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horrorwhores-posts · 1 year

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Halloween haze

Summary: you lose your boyfriend at a Halloween party and things get a little hazy.

word count: 2,605

warnings: SMUT (minors do not interact), plot before porn, gore, murder, infidelity.

Authors notes: first time ever writing smut so if it bad please let me know 🥹

Halloween has always been one of my favorite holidays. Dressing up, whether it be spooky or sexy, was always fun. This year my boyfriend decided to take me to one of his frat parties to celebrate with booze and music. I waded through the crowd of tightly packed bodies, balancing my drink above my head to keep it from spilling. When I was finally free from the mob of drunk party goers I smoothed down my skirt. Today I was dressed pretty simply, just a black tutu, a white crop top with a bow tie, and clown makeup adoring my face. It was the easiest thing I could muster at the last minute. I made my way back to where I left my boyfriend, before I went to get my drink. The spot where he was sitting on the couch was empty and I scanned the bodies around me to see if I could see him. Slightly tipsy and not minding my step I accidentally bumped into a hard, warm body. My hand gripped onto a white, satiny costume to try and balance myself despite my spinning vision. I craned my neck up the tall figure to see a fellow black and white clown. His costume is a lot more intricate than my own. I finally looked at his face and he smiled down at me with a big smile.

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t paying attention. But hey, at least we’re matching.” I giggle my last words as I let go of his costume. His smile seemed to widen as he gestured to himself and then back at me, giving me a thumbs up. I drunkenly giggle again before I ask my next question. “Hey have you um- seen my boyfriend? He’s brunette, dressed as the Grim reaper. He was just over there.” I gesture over to where he was sitting on the couch. “But now he’s gone.” I look back at my fellow clown companion with the best puppy eyes I could muster. The clown frowned at my face before shrugging his shoulders and clasping his hands behind his back. I huffed with annoyance. Not at my new friend of course, but at my boyfriend who was notorious for ditching me and showing up out of nowhere an hour later with a plausible excuse. “Well..” I sighed. “Thanks anyway, if you see him tell him to find me, alright?” I looked at the clown expectantly. He placed his palm to his forehead in a salute and marched away. I giggled as we parted ways.

Continuing my hunt for my boyfriend, I found myself on the second floor with the bedrooms, bodies pressed against the walls in feverious making out. My eyes landed on my boyfriend’s room, the door was shut and I could see his red light emanating from under the door. My stomach sank even in my drunken state. I was VERY familiar with that red light, with all the nights I spent under and on top of him. Everything started to spin as I got closer to the door, the cold metal of the knob nipped at my hot skin. With a shuddering breath, I twisted my wrist, cracking the door just a smidge. I could hear faint moaning and the sound of skin slapping skin. I closed my eyes as I leaned towards to crack, praying silently that I was overthinking. With one last shaking breath I willed myself to open my eyes. My world came crashing down as I confirmed it was him. I know that head full of brown mussed hair, those broad shoulders, and that big tattoo on his back. My eyes watered as I fought back the urge to sob, or to wretch, I’m not fully sure. As I backed away from the door my body collided with a familiar body. I craned up and saw the clown from before. He frowned at the crack in the door and finally back at my tear stained face. He gently caressed the side of my face, his thumb wiping my tears away. The surprising act of kindness caused the dam to break behind my eyes. A sob ripped from my chest as I roughly pushed past my new found friend, running to get as far away from the scene as possible.

Before I knew it I found myself in the backyard, on my hands and knees, gagging into the grass. The cry’s that came from me were almost animalistic, as a crowd gathered around me. A body gently kneeled next to my shivering body and wrapped a thick, heavy object around my shoulders. I looked up through wet lashes and saw Trevor. My boyfriend’s best friend. He gave me a look of pity and understanding as he gently rubbed my shoulders in a reassuring manner.

“Come on, leave the girl alone!…” he barked as he picked me up and made his way through the crowd. “Get out of my way!” He pushed us through the crowd and led me away from the wandering eyes. We ended up in a little gazebo surrounded by tall, dense bushes that provided us the isolation we needed. Gently placing me on the bench, he sat next to me and gently rubbed my back. My crying had died down to sniffles, gazing at the ground. Trevor moved his hand away from my back and I heard him shuffle around for a little bit until I heard the unmistakable sound of a lighter click. Before I could fully register there was a cigarette in my line of sight. With quivering hands I grasped into the small stick and brought it to my chapped lips. Inhaling the smoke deeply, I felt the familiar burn at the back of my throat. “How long.” I felt my raw voice croak. I felt Trevor tense next to me and I slowly moved my head to look at him. He sighed and shook his head. “You don’t want to know.” I felt my heartbreak even more and something bubbled in me. Taking a drag, I tried to calm my nerves but I couldn't help the question that came out of my mouth. “Has it been the same bitch?” I asked him, a hint of anger lacing my words. He looked up from his fidgeting hands in surprise and when he made eye contact he knew I was playing. “At first, no. But he’s been consistently seeing this one girl lately.”

“Lately.” I chuckled in disbelief, taking a puff of my cigarette.

“Yeah. A freshman, Cassidy smith. He’s been fucking her for three months now.” He murmured. Something about that sentence stoked the fire in my chest. I took a final hit of my nicotine stick before throwing it down the ground. I stood and pretty much marched back to the house, completely ignoring Trevor’s pleas to come back and not to go in. My chest heaved as I walked through the back door, my rage spiked as I looked around the crowd. I must have looked feral because all the eyes I met had fear laced through them. I stomped towards and up the stairs with a passion. Once again I was face to face with my boyfriend’s bedroom. The same red light was glowing around the border of the door. I debated on pounding and screaming on the wood, or just barging in. Deciding on the latter I gripped the handle and pushed the door open. “You stupid son of a-“ My eyes finally focused on the scene in front of me, and all the rage drained from me. The only emotion I was left with was terror as I slowly backed away from the horrid sight in front of me. My boyfriend, or what was left of him, was laying on the ground. His head resembled ground beef and his body was mutilated, his arms were broken at the elbows and one of his legs was crushed. His stomach was gutted open and his insides were spread out everywhere. Even some of his intestines hug from the ceiling fan. Still backing up, I heard the door shut behind me. I jumped and turned to see my new friend. His black and white Silhouette was covered in blood and his face was emotionless. He stepped towards me and I took an unconscious step back.

“Did you do this?” I asked cautiously. He smiled and opened his hands out in a tada motion. My head was reeling with a lot of different emotions as the clown stood in front of me, his smile faltering as I stayed silent. His eyes lit up and he stuck a finger out towards me, telling me to wait. He turned and fumbled around until he finally turned to me, his hands clasped around something. He knelt down on one knee and opened his hands to reveal his gift. In his large palm sat a severed female finger, with a beautiful pearl ring adoring it. “For me?” I asked in shock, my hand flying to my chest, feeling my heart beat rapidly. He nodded enthusiastically and then finally looked at the gift himself. Scrunching his eyebrows together he tried removing the ring from the finger, but it seemed to be stuck. Anger flashed on his face as he stuck the digit into his mouth and yanked back. That seemed to cause the ring to dislodge and he spit the phalange onto the floor. The pearl band sat in his large hand, sticking my left hand out, he slid it onto my ring finger. Before standing back to his full height he gave my hand a gentle kiss. I felt a blush creep over my face as I shyly hung my head, looking at the ring on my finger.

I felt a large hand softly stroke my cheek, slowly dipping down to my chin, pulling it up to look at the man in front of me. My breath caught in my throat as he bent over to my height. His dark eyes were swirling with emotion, and his long nose lightly tapped against mine. I let out a breathy chuckle and his shoulders shook with a silent laugh. I finally closed the distance between us and pressed my lips to his. They were surprisingly soft as our lips melded together. I felt the man let go of my face and slowly let his hands travel down my sides.

His hands halted on my hips, deeply kneading the skin there. The kiss deepened as I softly whined into his mouth. Our tongues danced as his hands slipped from my hips down to the swell of my ass, roughly grasping it, lifting me to his height. I wrapped my arms around his neck as my legs went around his waist, moaning as he lifted me like I was weightless. He broke the kiss with a smirk as he quickly turned and pressed my body against the cold wall. A shiver wracked up my spine as he pinned me there, his arms braced on either side of my head with his thigh bracing me up, and meeting with my thinly covered core. I needily ground my hips down as I whined. The friction caused my sensitive clit to throb. The clown in front of me watched me with his full attention. His mouth hung open as his hand slowly moved from the wall, sneaking up underneath my top and grabbing onto my bare breast. His thumb swiped over my nipple right as my clit rubbed perfectly against his leg, and my orgasm came to me in waves. The clown muffled the loud moan that escaped me by crashing his lips against mine, continuing to tweak my nipple to help me ride out my high as my hips slowly stopped jerking against him. Breathing heavily, I slumped against the wall as he grabbed my ass, lifting me up yet again. My arms limply supported myself as he turned back around and started walking. After a few steps he came to a halt, and I suddenly felt the sensation of falling.

I landed on something soft and wet. Realizing the clown dropped me on to my boyfriend's blood soaked bed, I felt another wave of want flow straight to my core. I perched myself on my arms as I looked at the black and white clad man in front of me. His smirk grew as he watched my eyes follow his hand down to the very noticeable tent in his outfit. His head was thrown back as he palmed himself over the satin material of his costume. My legs slowly widened for him as my cunt clenched around nothing. He looked back at me with hooded eyes and watched as I slowly slid my panties to the side. I dipped my fingers into a puddle of blood that was next to me; the thick slime coating them. I watched the man in front of me, his eyes locking onto my hand as I slowly led my fingers back to my aching cunt. The cold liquid caused me to close my eyes and hiss in pleasure as I dragged my fingers around my still tender bud. The sound of ripping fabric caught my attention, suddenly looking back at the clown. There was a new hole on his costume and his hard dick poked through. It was red, hard (almost pulsing), long and curved. My mouth watered and he gripped the base and slowly stroked his length. Precum dripped from the tip as he leant over me, slowly dragging his tip through my slit. I fell onto my back as his head nudged my clit, moaning embarrassingly loud. Slowly trailing back down, his tip sat at my entrance. I locked eyes with him and whispered out a breathy “please”, he slowly slipped into me. My eyes rolled back with my mouth hung open, he stilled as he was fully seated inside me. His hand gripped the back of my neck and yanked it up a bit. My eyes fluttered open and he looked back at me, almost as if waiting for the go ahead.

“Fuck me.” I almost commanded the man as a sinister smile broke out across his face. His hands immediately gripped my hips with a bruising strength, and snapped his hips out of me. With the tip barely still inside me, his dick snapped back into me. I yelped as he continued the fast and brutal pounding, the tip of his dick dragging right against that special spot, causing me to see stars. The knot in my stomach continued to tighten as the sound of my wet pussy taking him filled the room. Tears fell out of the corner of my eyes as my mind melted into pleasure. I could feel my knuckles turning white with how hard I was gripping the sticky sheets below me, almost at the brink or my climax. I suddenly felt a tight grip on my throat as my oxygen and blood supply was cut off. The room started spinning as I felt my pussy clench him with a vice grip. My orgasm crashed through my body as my vision blurred and my pulse pumped in my temples. I clawed at his arm as his hips stuttered and I felt him cum inside me. Finally his hand released its grip from my neck and I heaved a breath into my burning lungs. His large figure laid limp over my body and I felt sleep overtake me. As I curled up under his warm body like a blanket, I finally felt protected and at peace.

#art the clown #terrifier 2 #david howard thornton #slashers #terrifier movie #art the clown x reader #art fan fiction #terrifier x reader #terrifier art the clown #terrifier smut #art the clown smut

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bettyfrommars · 1 year

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I'm on Fire

Chapter 2: Edgy and Dull

biker!Eddie Munson x fem!artist!reader

🚨18+ONLY, mature themes, eventual smut, mention of poverty, mention of hard times at home, alcohol consumption, smoking, some physical violence, cheating (not on reader), angsty situation, I'm not sure what else to put here, please let me know if I missed something. Word count: 4.4k

Series Masterlist Playlist

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“Sometimes it’s like someone took a knife, baby, edgy and dull, and

cut a six-inch valley through the middle of my skull”

“You know that saying, ‘shit happens and then you die’?” You had your headphones around your neck, makeup done, but only your sweats and ratty t-shirt on as you walked through the kitchen. “Shouldn’t it be, ‘shit happens and then you live’? Cause that just feels more accurate.”

Your roommate Katie had the day off, and she was reading a book in the love seat by the window, but you had to be at work by 2 to get ready for the gallery opening.

“I think we should get the latter one tattooed on us,” Katie responded, her eyes never leaving the pages of her book.

It had just occurred to you, only moments earlier, that you were missing an earring. Not a big deal, they weren’t expensive or anything, but you didn’t want to step on it in your bare feet or find out that your cat Charlie ate it by accident. You tossed your bed and couldn’t find it, and later you were on your hands and knees going through the carpet with your fingers when Katie brought her book down so that just her eyes were showing over the top.

“You lose your dignity again?”

“Yes, but also,” you stood up with a sigh, brushing yourself off. “I lost the pair to those silver hoops I always wear. Oh well,” you were running late, per usual, and getting distracted with the chore of looking for an insignificant piece of your jewelry was not helping.

You just didn’t want to go into work, that was the problem. You got dressed listening to Supernova by Liz Phair, and then you had to go into the third bedroom you used as a studio to grab something, and the three works in progress sitting there glaring back at you made you pause. The irony of it was, you'd started working at the gallery to be closer to the art world, but you worked so much, you rarely had time to paint. It was the definition of madness.

“See you at 5:30,” you called to Katie as you walked out the door. You were both suckers for any event that offered free snacks and booze. “Oh and please check Charlie’s food dish before you leave. Okayloveyoubye.”

As you approached your car where it was parked at the curb, your eyes locked on the brand new, passenger side tire, and you couldn’t help but think about the hands that put it there. You had a flashback of his smile, the way his mouth moved when he talked, the way the back of his hand grazed your knee when he was reaching for the CB. You had experienced an instant familiarity that didn’t make any sense to you.

You know what else didn’t make sense? You forgetting your keys inside because you’d be shit out of luck trying to get your car started without them. Also, you still had your slippers on.

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The sign in the window of Moon River Gallery announced the showing of original paintings and sculpture by Anna Stavros and Beckett Miller, and you were setting up the beverage table when the owner of the gallery, Judith, showed up. She only came for the events, to mingle and show off to her friends, but she wasn’t one to lend a hand, and she was never available when you had questions. In some ways, it was nice, because you could take care of the space and the other employees without too much micro-managing, but when she did show up---it was always emotionally taxing.

“You’re not wearing that today, are you?” Judith asked you, the sides of her mouth jerking down, her brows clenching together.

What you had on was similar to what you always wore at the gallery; it was simple and classic so that the customers and clients could focus on the artwork and not on you. But, it wasn’t cashmere or Ralph Lauren, and Judith was an honest to god snob. If she knew that most of your clothes were bought second hand at thrift stores, she’d have a stroke right in the middle of the showroom floor.

You looked down at yourself. “Um, yes. Yes I am,” even though you knew what you had on was fine, her comment still made you self-conscious and you crossed your arms over your chest.

You walked the floor with Judith to show her how you set everything up, and to give her an idea of how many had already RSVP’d. You were looking down the list of confirmed clients when a name toward the bottom caught your eye.

...Charlene Gregson & guest….

A few guests arrived early and Judith went over so that they could sing their praises to her. You caught the eye of one of your helpers, Jeffery, and waved him over, mouthing for him to meet you around the back of the stairs.

“Hey,” you brushed a piece of hair off of your face. “First of all, you’re doing great. The artist statements look amazing. But also, are you the one who took the confirmation for Charlene Gregson? I don’t remember her being on the original list.”

At first, Jeffery looked worried, like maybe had done something wrong, but then he softened and got a little flustered. “It’s one of Judith’s friends, they know each other from the country club.”

Judith was supposed to run all of the invites by you, so that you could be prepared, but she usually just expected you to read her mind.

“Do you know who the guest she’s bringing is?” You ask, thinking it would be her husband, and how you were curious to get a good look at both of them.

At the front of the gallery, Judith had her arms wide, taking bold credit for how everything was set up.

Jeff inched closer and whispered. “You’re going to love this. Apparently, she has a bodyguard that she takes with her to events.”

You turned to Jeff with your mouth open, assuming it was a joke, a permanent look of surprise frozen on your face, and it made him stifle a laugh.

The two of you stepped further to the side, behind one of the dividers. “A bodyguard?” You repeated what he just said, thinking maybe you got it wrong. “Is she running for president of the United States or something?”

“It’s so strange, right?” Jeff looked to see where Judith was and then kept talking. “The rumor is, she was robbed at gun point a few months ago, and ever since then, she’s been paying a member of the Coffin Kings to be her driver and her bodyguard whenever her husband is away.”

You held your breath at Coffin Kings. Wasn’t that the motorcycle gang rumored to have a clubhouse at Munson’s Garage?

“Did you get the name for this body guard by chance?” You had a weird feeling, but passed it off as sampling too much of the pre-packaged deli cheese.

“No, I’m sorry,” Jeffery looked so sad, like he had just let you down in the biggest way.

“It’s okay, it’s okay, “ you patted his arm, and then noticed that Judith was beckoning for you. “We’ll find out soon enough anyway.”

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Soon enough came exactly 42 minutes later.

You were in the middle of explaining the nuances and inspirations for a large mixed media piece by the artist Anna Stavros for a handful of people when Jeffery scooted up to your side and took your arm, whispering, “she’s here,” into your ear and, rightfully so, you completely lost your train of thought.

You excused yourself from the group, and asked one of the other employees to refill their wine glasses---because drunk people buy more art.

The gallery floor was packed. There was an art walk happening on the entire street, so some of them came and went, but a few were lifers who only bought art from Judith because of her family name.

You followed Jeffery around so that you could have a clear view of the front door and, there she was: tall, blonde, and tan. She was probably in her late thirties; she had a face like Bridget Fonda with the body and style of Sharon Stone.

You gulped.

But you choked on your own saliva and started to cough when you saw Eddie out on the sidewalk waiting for her, smoking a cigarette. Turns out, your gut had been right; it hadn’t been the cheese after all.

He looked...really good. He had on a black leather jacket, heavy with buckles and zippers, on over a button down dress shirt that was undone all the way to the middle of his chest, allowing the hint of several tattoos to peak out. He wore black jeans with boots, and his hair was down, long passed his shoulders. It was kinda messy and curly and you wanted to touch it.

“10 out of 10 would let the bodyguard bend me over in a dark alley,” Jeff said in your ear, and you silently agreed.

You turned to say something else to Jeff, but just then a guest touched his arm and engaged him in conversation.

You made a beeline through the crowd to introduce yourself to Charlene, but Katie intercepted you breathlessly. “I know I’m late, I’m so sorry, I took a nap and I didn’t set the alarm and---”

“It’s okay,” you tell her. You’re not looking at her though, your eyes are on Charlene who has now gone over to talk with Judith. “I’m glad you made it. Here, have my wine. Eat all of the shrimp you want. I’ll be right back.”

You watched through the front windows as Eddie sucked on his cigarette, hooked one thumb into his front belt loop, and leaned back against the lamp post at the edge of the sidewalk. You took another look around you, and then grabbed a beer from the ice bucket at the beverage table and headed out.

“Did you come to take my tire back?” You called out to him as you stepped from the threshold and started to close the distance between the two of you.

He threw you a dirty look at first, but then recollection dawned, and he offered not a smile so much as little quotations appearing on each side of his mouth. He straightened, sliding his back up the lamp post and flicked his cigarette.

“Well, well, well,” he jerked his chin at you. “Fancy meeting you here.”

“You’re on my turf now, buddy,” you said, spreading your arms wide after glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one could see you from the window. “Thirsty?” You asked, extending the beer to him.

“How did you know what kind of beer I drink?” He asked with a few creases in his forehead, appraising the can as you handed it to him.

You shrugged. “It’s the beer I like, so, I guess that means you have good taste.”

Eddie looked tired. You noticed the dark circles under his eyes right away, and even though he put on a good, tough front, you could tell that he hadn’t slept well in days, maybe weeks. He dropped the butt of his cigarette to the sidewalk and crushed it with the toe of his boot as he cracked the can and took a swig.

The sidewalk was narrow and you pressed your back against the brick wall of the building across from him, allowing other art walk people to pass by as you talked.

He waited for a few pedestrians to pass by before he spoke to you again. “So, you’re gonna make me drink alone?”

“I’m on the clock,” you tilted your head, placing your hands behind your lower back so that your fingers grazed the brick behind you. “One of those beers and I won’t be able to stop.”

“I’d like to see that,” he said under his breath, putting his lips against the rim of his beer for another drink, trying is best to contain another grin.

“Wait,” he seemed to catch something a bit later than you gave it. “You work here? At this gallery?”

You could see that his face was a genuine mix of being shocked and impressed. His eyes shifted to the door a few times, and you wondered---was there also a hint of worry there? Fear that Charlene would come out and see him talking to you?

“I suppose you could call what I do work,” you returned, flippantly. “I can’t change a tire or do what you do, that’s for sure.”

“You don’t even own a tire,” he teased.

“Hey, that’s not true, I have the required number now, thank you very much.”

“You need to carry a spare in your trunk, just in case,” he wiped his mouth and put his chin to his chest, and then looked up at you from under his lashes. “Come by the shop some day, I have a few to spare. I won’t charge you.”

You were touched by the generous offer and it was a challenge to think of a new sarcastic thing to say.

“Do you want to come inside?” You knew deep in your soul that he wouldn’t; it was absolutely not his scene. Hell, it wasn’t even yours, to be honest. “There’s a lot of free food in there. Pounds of it, actually.”

His stomach grumbled and he worried for a beat that maybe you had heard it. He’d be able to grab a bite after he dropped Charlene off and she paid him. Every time he thought about her paying him, it made him cringe internally, like he was some kind of fuckboy escort service. But ever since Wayne got sick, he let her stick a couple hundred dollar bills in his pocket every now and then, because every dime helped.

“No thanks,” he shook his head, waiting again for another handful of pedestrians. “I don’t want the cops to get called on your party.”

You wondered why he said that. Was it because of how he looked? Or was there another reason? You wanted to ask, but then Jeffery came scrambling out onto the sidewalk, arms flailing.

“Hey, I need you!” He was in panic mode, but when he saw that you were talking to someone, he bashfully locked his fingers together in front of him. “Pardon me. I mean, I am in need of your assistance madame, posthaste.”

You pushed off from the wall and said, “duty calls.”

But then, Eddie pushed off of the lamp post and suddenly you were both close together in the middle of the sidewalk. You looked up at him, waiting, watching the way his lips parted as if he were about to say something.

“You should...if you’re not...if you have time later,” God he cursed himself for how he was babbling. Fuck, Munson, spit it out for godsake. She already thinks you’re a pimp and a loser, what else could go wrong?

“I mean,” Eddie cleared his throat. “If you’re free after this, my band is playing at The Hideout tonight. It’s a total dump, but the beer is cold.” He ended it with a little self-deprecating laugh that you recognized because you used it often.

You waved Jeff back inside and turned back to Eddie. “Um,” the answer you wanted to shout at him was YES, but you had a few things to consider.

You’re such an idiot, Munson. His internal monologue continued. Why would a woman like her ever be caught dead in a place like that with a guy like you?

“I’ll be here cleaning up until after 10. Will you still be there?”

It took him a few blinks to realize that you were accepting his invitation. “No, I mean yeah, that’s---we won’t even go on until after 10.”

“Okay, then, maybe I’ll see you later.” you started walking and smiled at him over your shoulder.

“Oh, wait,” Eddie called to you, remembering the earring he’d been carrying around in the pocket of his jacket, but you were already inside.

Just as you entered the gallery, Charlene Gregson was hugging Judith goodbye, and she brushed by you on her way out the door, smelling like suntan oil and Chanel No. 5. You waited, and then turned to see her go up to Eddie and kiss him on the cheek, before he went around to open the passenger side door of her black Porsche for her. She kissed him on the cheek? Why did this feel so… off? They weren’t dating and he wasn't just her driver/bodyguard. Something was fishy about it and you had the right might to find out.

------

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” Katie whispered as the two of you made it on foot around the block from where you parked to The Hideout entrance. The venue was situated in a part of down with very few street lights, and so the only illumination as you approached were two neon beer signs in each window and a soft green fluorescent glow coming from inside the door. You could hear the music clear as day from outside, the beat thudding in your chest. It was coming from a jukebox: Possum Kingdom by the Toadies.

You passed by a long row of motorcycles parked out front and you thought about the biker bar scene in Pee Wee Herman’s Big Adventure when he accidentally knocked all of the bikes over and it made you laugh and bite your lip.

“Make up your mind,

and I’ll promise you

I will treat you well,

my sweet angel…”

Once the cloud of cigarette smoke cleared, you could see the stage in the back was empty, and you didn’t see Eddie.

To the right was a bar with a bunch of pull tabs in plastic boxes on the wall and three guys with beards wearing leather biker cuts, sat nursing their drinks.

“Do you see him?” Katie had her arm interlocked with yours now and she elbowed your ribs. She knew what he looked like from the few times she bought weed from him, but that felt like a bazillion years ago.

You shook your head, looking for a place to sit.

“Give it up to me

do you want to

be my angel?

So help me..”

That was when you felt a warm body come up behind you, breaching the wall of your invisible bubble, and you were about to kick whoever it was in the shin when you heard his voice in your ear:

“Now, you’re on my turf,” Eddie said. He took two long strides until he was in front of the two of you, and then he cocked one eyebrow up.

“This whole turf thing is getting serious,” you made eye contact with him and tilted your head. “We probably need to have some kind of dance off to settle it.”

He just licked his lips and made those familiar quotations show up on either side of his mouth, as if to announce that his lips were a statement in themselves.

Turns out, Eddie’s band Corroded Coffin wasn’t able to perform that night because their drummer broke his foot in a motorcycle accident.

“He’s loaded up on pain pills, he’ll be fine,” Eddie assured you after seeing the horrified look on your face. “We have someone who usually fills in, but he wasn’t available either.”

“So it’s just been me and my buddy Steve here hanging out,” Eddie finished. “I didn’t have you number, so I thought I’d just wait and see.”

Eddie was starting to make you feel a certain type of way, like when you put a chocolate chip cookie in the microwave for the perfect amount of time and it melts in your mouth.

“What do we have here?” A guy came up next to Eddie, and he had a thick head of dark hair with eyes all brown and pretty just like Eddie's. When he smiled, you could see that his right incisor was a gold tooth. He also had a leather biker kutte, or cut, on like the guys at the bar, there was a big tattoo on the side of his neck.

You felt Katie stiffen at your side. You had already made the introductions between her and Eddie, and they remembered each other, but now this guy was staring over at her with a certain level of elevated interest.

“Ladies,” Eddie gestured to the guy with the tattooed neck. “This is my buddy Steve. Steve, this is Y/N and her roommate Christie.”

“Katie,” she corrected. "Gosh, Munson, my feelings are hurt. How many times did we get stoned together back in the day?"

“Right, Katie, that’s what I meant.”

“Katie.” Steve Harrington repeated her name, blinking his big doe eyes, seemingly oblivious to everyone else in the room. He had a natural charisma and magnetism about him that was undeniable.

You could feel Katie’s skin getting hot. She was naturally funny and talkative, but she was suddenly retreating into her mute phase.

The boys invited you over to their table, and Katie made wide eyes at you as you went, wordlessly announcing that she thought Steve was hot. The next song on the jukebox started: You Could Be Mine by Guns n’ Roses, and that was when all hell broke loose.

Steve was about to reach the table when a big guy coming in the other direction shoulder checked him, knocking his arm back. You grabbed onto Katie and the two of you froze as Steve and the guy exchanged a few intense words. Eddie stepped in between with his back to you, acting as a shield for both of you in case it escalated.

“Get over it, man, that was fucking years ago,” Steve spat, standing his ground as the two had a bit of a stare-off.

The guy confronting Steve was maybe the same age, but he had more of a “clean cut” look so to speak, like he still clung to his glory days of being the captain of the football team in high school and tried to make it his whole personality. He was clearly wasted and stumbling on his feet a bit. You couldn’t understand what the whole thing was about, but it sounded like Steve might’ve had sex with the other guy’s girl at one point.

“Wrap it up, kids,” Eddie stepped forward. “We’ve got ladies present.”

The guy confronting Steve snapped a look at Eddie, and then his eyes landed on you and Katie, and he snorted.

“If they’re with you two, they’re not ladies. They’re nothing but cock sucking whores.”

Both you and Katie opened your mouths, shocked at the vitriol directed at the two of you for absolutely no reason, but as you were trying to understand why he said it, you noticed Eddies hands turn to fists at his sides.

“Someone needs to shut your mouth, it might as well be me,” and then Eddie swung at him, connecting his metal rings to the side of the guy’s face with a crunch of cartilage and bone. Katie yelped and stumbled back, taking you with her.

The guy Eddie punched recovered, his face already bleeding, and he lurched forward with an animalistic yowl, a long arm punch connecting with Eddie’s chin. Steve pushed the guy back, tackling him to the ground, wailing on his face with his fists as he went and people scattered. A wooden chair broke their fall and the arm rest splintered off.

The clean cut guy had two other friends, and they were both headed over to join in.

Eddie turned to you, his lip bleeding, piece of hair sticking to his cheek, his eyes wild. “Run! Get out of here!”

You didn’t want to leave him in that mess, but Katie was shouting your name and pulling at your arm, and the last thing you saw over your shoulder was one of the other friends try to swing on Eddie, but Eddie grabbed the guy and threw him to the ground.

“I’m too old for this, I’m too old for this!” Katie was repeating as you both raced to her car. She fumbled her keys twice. Just as she unlocked your door from the inside, you heard the sirens closing in: the cops were on their way.

You couldn’t let Eddie and Steve go to jail for defending you.

“Go around front,” you shouted as you slammed your door. “We need to get pick them up.”

“We need to WHAT?” Katie blanched, muttering to herself as she shifted into reverse. “I knew I should’ve never woken up from that nap.”

Her tires squealed as she rounded the corner, adrenaline rushing though both of you, your hearts racing. You rolled down the window as she screeched to a stop in front of the entrance. You couldn’t see Eddie, but you screamed for him, and you told Katie to honk the horn.

The sirens were getting closer.

That was when Eddie and Steve stumbled out of the door with a few other patrons, both with bloody lips and hands. You could tell by their faces that they hadn’t expected to see you there, but they were grateful. Speeding away on a motorcycle was not ideal in that moment, because two cop cars were already fishtailing around the corner, headed in that direction.

“GET IN!” You yelled, and the two of them realized in a split second they had no choice but to obey. Steve dove into the back seat first, followed by Eddie, and then you were shouting, “Gogogogogogo,” to Katie as she floored the gas and cursed you, saying she’d never go anywhere with you ever again.

Part 2.5

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #90s au #1990s music #eddie munson smut #stranger things #stranger things au #eddie munson x fem!reader #fem reader #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #I want to go back #to the 90s

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ladykailitha · 6 months

Text

Royal Pain Part 25

I make two promises about the end of this chapter. It's not what it looks likes, and that it WILL be fixed in the next chapter.

Pt 1 Pt 2 Pt 3 Pt 4 Pt 5 Pt 6 Pt 7 Pt 8 Pt 9 Pt 10 Pt 11 Pt 12 Pt 13 Pt 14 Pt 15 Pt 16 Pt 17 Pt 18 Pt 19 Pt 20 Pt 21 Meta Pt 22 Pt 23 Pt 24

****

Steve was keeping busy. He was! Running a shop full time and his apprentices were only half way through their training, he didn’t have time to moon over Eddie.

But as much as he wanted to lie to himself he knew that there were too many times that he spent checking his phone for text messages, voicemails, and IG DMs. It was lame. And worse?

He had to watch this.

Vickie walked up to Robin. “Hey, babe. Can you show me how to do the multiple scheduling again? The time I tried, I accidentally scheduled all the way out to the year 3025. Which really, really shouldn’t be possible.”

Robin giggled. “I think they had to put in an end date and went as obscene as possible thinking that they wouldn’t have to update it in their life time.”

Vickie blushed and ran her hand up and down Robin’s arm. “Thanks for showing me again.”

Robin nearly fell out of the chair. Vickie quickly grabbed her and barely managed to prevent her from taking a nosedive.

“Right,” Robin said, ducking her head to hide her flush of embarrassment, she showed Vickie how to do the scheduling again.

He turned to Chrissy. “Please save me from this disaster, Duchess. It’s killing me.”

“You wish is my command, my liege,” she purred and stalked toward the reception desk.

Her outfit was barely this side of professional, but considering what other artist wore in their shops, he couldn’t call her out on it. It was pretty much the preppy pastel version of those other shops. Tight, light blue, skinny jeans with a baby blue tank top and white suede jacket, draped artfully on her elbows to show off her tattoos.

She leaned over the desk giving Robin and Vickie an eyeful of her perky breasts. She reached over and curled one of Robin’s loose strands of hair around her finger. Robin turned absolutely red.

‘You coming to Club Rainbow tonight?” Chrissy simpered, using the easier to say nickname for the Rainbow High Club.

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she said, glancing over at Steve and then back to her. “With E–with it being so quiet lately, I figured we weren’t going.”

Chrissy smiled. “I’m always down for bright lights, pumping music, free flowing booze, and...” she leaned closer, “pretty girls.”

If Robin had been red before she positively scarlet now.

Chrissy twisted so she was leaning back on the desk. She flicked a long nailed finger under Vickie’s chin. “How about you, green-eyed girl? You coming, too?”

Everyone’s jaws dropped.

But it worked.

Suddenly Robin was tripping over her feet to say that of course she was going clubbing tonight, that of course she was. And that she was clearly out of her head to even think to stay home.

“Good,” she said, tilting her head back to look at Robin upside down. “Now convince your boy over there to join us.”

Steve gasped. “Traitor!”

Chrissy laughed. “Come on, Steve, you need to get out and feel the earth move under your feet for a night!”

His phone rang and suddenly his was on his feet in an instant.

“Hey, Eds...”

“Baby,” Eddie breathed into the phone. “You sound tired, you okay?”

“No, I’m good.”

“That’s good to hear, sweetheart,” Eddie said softly. “You doing anything fun this weekend?”

“We were thinking of going to the club tonight,” he murmured. “It won’t be the same without you.”

“Go, have fun, babe,” Eddie said. “You deserve it.”

“I guess.”

“Hey, while I’m thinking about it,” Eddie said nervously. “Did you find someone to fill my tattoo slot?”

“Oh, no. I didn’t,” Steve replied, pained. “I wouldn’t just have someone come in and fill your spot, Eds. That’s your three hour block of time, because you’re coming back, right?”

“Of course, I am, Stevie,” Eddie said gently. “I just worry about you losing money you could be making.”

“I know it’s twelve hours I could be making more money, I know that. It’s just–”

“Hey, babe,” Eddie said. “I’m being rushed out the door. I’ll talk to you soon.”

“No, of course. Miss you lots.”

“Miss you more.”

He hung up feeling worse than before he got the call. It had only been three days, but he felt his heart had been ripped out of his chest.

He walked back to the reception area, rubbing the end of his nose. He cleared his throat. “You guys go on ahead without me tonight. I don’t feel so good.”

The three girls shared glances but nodded.

Argyle took a deep breath. “Why don’t Jonathan and I come over with pizza while the girls go to the club?”

Erica came out her room with a grin. “Did someone say club?”

Chrissy cheered. “Hell yeah, girlie. We are going to have so much fun.”

Steve thought about the offer while the girls made plans, then nodded. It was better than being alone and he was really starting to like Jonathan now that he had broken it off with Nancy.

“Yeah, let’s do that.”

The entire shop breathed a sigh of relief.

The club would have been better with its loud music, lots of people, and free flowing beer, but pizza night with the guys was good, too.

“Wait!” Steve said, his brain catching up through his fog of misery. “Erica is only eighteen!”

“Buzzkill.”

Sunday was awful. Dustin and Suzy kept gushing about how cool it was that they knew someone who was playing with Metallica.

He was thankful when his phone rang. He walked out to the front porch to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Hey, kid,” came the warm voice on the other end of the line.

“Wayne?” Steve looked at the time on his phone. It was a little after seven.

“I figured since we were both missing our boy, I’d give you a call.”

“I didn’t really think about it,” Steve murmured, pinching the bridge of his nose, “but yeah I guess he can’t call you if he’s on stage.”

“This is alright, yeah?”

“No, course it’s okay, I appreciate you thinking about me.”

“How have you been holding up?”

“It’s only been four fucking days and it’s liking I’m missing a limb. I can’t imagine what you felt when he moved to Indy.”

“That’s different,” Wayne murmured, “I knew it was coming. This was sprung on ya, it was bound to feel like shit. What’s eating ya?”

“God, I don’t even know. It’s just when we were finding our feet, the rug got pulled out from under us and I feel like I’m the only one that fell on my ass. And I know that’s not fair to Eddie. I get to live my dream, but he’s not allowed to live his? What kind of shit boyfriend would I be?”

“A hurt one,” Wayne muttered. “I always tell Ed when he gets like this he has two choices with me. You do all the talking and I listen. Or I do all the talking and you let my voice wash over you like a warm, comforting blanket.”

Tears slipped down his cheeks and he hurried to scrub them away.

“You talk, I just need a kind voice on the end of the line.”

Steve listened to him talk about the book club and a used car he bought recently when his truck finally gave up the ghost. He let the warm slow Southern drawl just wash over him and soothe his soul.

Finally Wayne ran out of things to talk about, but by then Steve was feeling better and they said their goodbyes.

And somewhere in Hawkins Wayne stood his kitchen with tears of his own streaming down his face, missing both of his boys.

Steve’s heart leapt every time he got a call, a text, a voicemail. He tried not to sound disappointed when it wasn’t Eddie. He made doubly sure he didn’t sound like that when Wayne called. They were both missing Eddie and he wasn’t about to take it out on him.

Robin was getting more and more concerned. She knew that he wasn’t sleeping, that he was barely eating enough to function and was pretty much living off Monsters and coffees too large to be sane.

She really got concerned when he ordered a six shot espresso and downed it in one gulp.

“Steve...” she said warningly.

“I took it slow like everyone wanted,” he spat out bitterly. “I respected his space and his pace. I rescued him from his evil ex. I dotted all the Is and crossed all the Ts and I’m stuck here wondering if he’s going to find someone better than me. Someone who likes metal, not just go to his concert because he’s the playing. That he’ll find another tattoo artist. A better one. One that will really let him fly. That he’ll pack up and move to LA and I’ll be here with a broken heart and shop I will learn to resent.”

“Oh.” Because what else could she even say to that. Because sure, he could do what Max did and just follow Eddie to LA, but he couldn’t do it immediately. He still had at least four months mentoring Chrissy and Argyle. Eight months on the outside. And by then what would be the point of moving out there.

If Steve was like this after a week, six months would kill him.

“You don’t know what’s going to happen,” Robin said. “You just have to trust him to talk to you and do what’s best for both you. How has he sounded when he calls?”

Steve frowned for a moment. “I guess like me, happy to hear my voice, sad that we’re apart. But there is this tiredness underneath and a hint of anger.”

“At you?” she asked, putting her arm around him.

He shrugged. “I don’t think so, but he won’t talk to me about it.”

“He probably doesn’t know how to say it,” she said wisely. “Just give him time.”

Steve nodded.

Steve made the first impulsive decision he’d made since deciding to be Hop’s apprentice.

He was going to get a tattoo. He made the appointment with Hop and calmly explained what he wanted and where.

Hop leveled him with a glare. “You sure you want this? You’re an artist yourself, Steve. You know how hard it is cover up a mistake. If I do this there is no going back.”

Steve nodded. “I want it because even if it doesn’t work out, even if we go our separate ways, I want something to remember him by.”

Hop took a deep breath and started his work. It didn’t take long. It was a small tattoo, simple enough in its design. He would have done it himself if Robin hadn’t stopped him.

Soon it was done and Hop scooted back on his chair. He cleaned Steve up, bandaged it, and wrapped it in plastic wrap.

“There you go, kid,” Hop said. “I hope it’s what you wanted.”

Steve nodded. “It is. I promise I won’t regret getting it.”

Hop sighed and got to his feet. “You’re smart man, Steve. A good tattoo artist, too. You’ve been through so much in such a short time. I think you need to take a break and just think. About the shop, your apprentices, your employees, friends, Eddie. Decide what you want and then go for it okay?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah. It’s just I’m the only full artist at my shop, I can’t take time off without closing it.”

Hop nodded back. “I’ve been there. I just worry about you.”

Steve sighed. “I worry about me too.”

Steve was vibrating out of his skin. The band was coming home today. He was going to see Eddie today.

But when the bus pulled up to the depot and they all filed out, there were only three of them.

Miranda and Jeff were hugging and kissing, Brian and Cecil were hugging. Even Gareth was getting swamped with hugs from his twin and mom.

But–

“Where’s Eddie?” Robin asked first. And Steve was grateful that she was there.

The other three members of the band looked at the ground, around them, anywhere but at Steve.

“He made us stop in Hawkins,” Jeff murmured and even Miranda was starting to look concerned.

“He wanted to spend a couple days with his Uncle Wayne,” Gareth said.

Steve heart plummeted to his stomach. “He’s not coming home?”

“It’s just for a couple of days,” Brian hurried to explain. “The tour just gave him a lot of things to think about.”

“Oh.”

Steve turned on his heel and ran out of the depot, shouts of his name following him out.

****

Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Epilogue

Tag List: @spectrum-spectre @estrellami-1 @zerokrox-blog @artiststarme @swimmingbirdrunningrock @gregre369 @pyrohonk @bookworm0690 @chaosgremlinmunson @goodolefashionedloverboi @chaoticlovingdreamer @maya-custodios-dionach @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence @plyerice27 @thedragonsaunt @sapphirecobalt-1 @a-little-unsteddie @i-must-potato @danili666 @carlyv @rozzieroos @wonderland-girl143-blog @itsall-taken @justforthedead89 @emly03 @aizawa-emma @yikes-a-bee @redfreckledwolf @thesuninyaface @bookbinderbitch @archermightbegay @littlewildflowerkitten @scheodingers-muppet @hallucinatedjosten @ellietheasexylibrarian @anne-bennett-cosplayer @cinnamon-mushroomabomination @bestwifehaver @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @oldwitcheshat @nightmareglitter @tinyplanet95 @novelnovella @jonesn4coffee @slowandsteddie @awkwardgravity1 @steaddie-on

#my writing #stranger things #steddie #ladykailtiha writes #tattoo artist steve

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once-upon-an-imagine · 11 months

Note

Hi darling. I would love to help you with inspiration and with a request if you feel like writing it. So could I please ask for a prompt with this “You owe me.” “I owe you $20 not a day of pretending to be your boy/girl-friend to get your parents off you’re back.” and Harrington!Reader & Eddie Munson. I just chosea pairing from the poll that I feel would work perfectly. Especially if it's a family dinner and Steve is also looking for a fake date for it. Thank you

OMG YES! I love this so much! 😂 I also think it fits perfectly!

"Eddie, please!" you begged, giving him your best puppy eyes as you followed him down the hall.

"Nope! There's no way I'm doing this, Harrington!"

"But... you owe me!"

“I owe you $20, not a day of pretending to be your boyfriend to get your parents off your back!” he chuckled once he finally stopped at his locker with you by his side.

"Come on, it's only for one night and you'll get a free dinner and there's free booze" you tried to convince him. You knew it was working when he raised his eyebrow and turned to look at you.

"Why?" he asked all of the sudden.

"Huh? W-why what?"

"Why me?" he asked, resting against his now-closed locker. "You could ask anyone else" he told you.

"Well... because you owe me $20-"

"Princess, we have been friends for a very long time now. I know when you're hiding something" he smirked. "Tell me why me and then I might just say yes" he offered and you sighed frustrated.

"Fine, I'll tell you but... you have to promise me you won't get mad" you told him.

"I'm your best friend, of course, I will get mad" he said, making you glare at him.

"Okay, well... you know that Steve and I don't really get along with our parents, right?" you started and Eddie nodded. "Well, since they're rarely here, whenever they are and they throw these stupid big dinner parties, Steve and I have a... bet" you said, looking away.

"A bet?"

"Yeah, we always bet who could get the date that would well, bother them the most" you said looking back at him. "Steve has beaten me every single time!"

"So... you think that I'll make you win?"

"Are you kidding? With your long hair, your tattoos, and the whole metal look? There is no way I lose this year!" you said, making him laugh and you smiled relieved.

"Anything else?"

"Well, if I'm being honest, you're probably the only person that would make the night tolerable" you said, feeling your cheeks burn a little and he smiled sweetly at you.

"So all of this is to win a bet against your brother?"

"Yeah" you nodded.

"And piss off your parents?"

"Y-yes" you smiled hopefully at him. Eddie's grin got wider as he offered you his hand.

"You've got yourself a deal, princess" he said as you gladly took it, smiling back at him.

#stranger things #stranger things imagine #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson dialogue

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blueparadis · 2 years

Text

𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐈𝐍𝐔𝐈 𝐒𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐔.

—» content warnings : afab-reader,she/her pronouns, mature themes, smut, implied voyeurism, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, threesum,mirror sex; mention of brothels,sex workers and mentions of Kokonoi Hajime. worc count — 0.95k LINKS SECTION

BONTEN INUI SEISHU is reserved and doesn't talk much unless he notices Kokonoi's eyebrows growing closer. And the moment he opens his mouth, the rest of the visitors are silenced. Rumor along the underworld is that he is just the bodyguard of the handsome treasurer of Bonten, Kokonoi Hajime but Inui didn’t care as long as Coco seals those deals smoothly. He is the eyes and ears for him and he is quite tactful in his works.

Kokonoi was quite worried about him. What if this life of blood and violence rubbed off on him? Koko didn’t want him to be the reason he resorted to violence and his prayer glistened with hope when he saw inupi visiting clubs, enjoying the glint of neon lights just to gather intel, just for him.

While Kokonoi handles the deals, BONTEN INUI SEISHU takes care of every gawking eye, every prying ear that might hinder their plans. And sometimes when they are off to seal a deal in a nightclub, he doesn't fail to notice that familiar face that has been there every time he visited the clubs. Initially, he thought that it must be Coco’s charms, and in moments like that he never fails to put it to good use but this time it was quite odd.

“Ya’know Coco doesn’t make it a habit of picking street girls unless you …”, he took a pause eyeing you up and down as he lets out a puff of smoke into the air yet his sapphire pearls were bestowed on you. “To be useful”, he whispered into your ear.

And before he could retreat you placed your palm over his firm chest exclaiming in a low voice, “You might wanna hide that tattoo of yours, there are people looking for both of you, sir. ” and that was all.

And before you could vanish into the thin air, Inui grabbed your hand pulling you against his body and exclaiming, “I will find you if are a snitch” He noticed your silence and released your hand unwillingly.

While you faded into the back of the alley, he rolled down his sleeves hiding his bonten tattoo that was marked on the side of his inner wrist. No, of course, he didn’t have to worry about handling a few bugs, and hence, he brushed it off thinking she might be new on the streets who still doesn’t know that every ounce of information could turn your world upside down.

OH! His life was not all roses and sunshine, and neither was Coco’s. When they failed to close a deal both the men went to clubs, especially sex clubs. Kokonoi watches Seishu as he tames the brattiest girl on the shift, while Kokonoi enjoys the booze and the show.

And, when she is a little weak, they either take turns or he holds her until she loses the count of how many times Koko came inside her. Something about watching Koko fuck a girl, breaking the bonten code just turns him on. Most of the girls know about them since Koko lavishly spends money whenever they close an important deal.

BONTEN INUI SEISHU is very observative and doesn’t fail to notice how that girl who just served the drinks is occasionally staring at him. Most of the time, he doesn’t pay much attention but when he can sense the deal is on, he doesn't waste any further to have a little chat with his partner.

And the next moment, he is busy spreading the girl’s legs , putting them on his shoulders to rub his hard cock against the leaking pussy. Nah! He doesn’t go all in until he gains some info about the opposing party. He prefers to raw dog a girl since he knows all the girls are clean and what’s the worse that could happen? After all, they’re the popular ones, especially him being the familiar face has its own perks.

Sometimes, BONTEN INUI SEISHU sneaks out of a meeting because he just wants to annoy Coco a little. So, he just picks the girl who was recruited for serving the day’s meeting and takes her to the bathroom to watch her moan and roll her eyes as he fucks her from the back.

Something about rolling the hair around his hand, watching the reflection of his bonten tattoo in the mirror, and hearing the girl beg for more just makes him more addicted to the taste of breaking the rules.

Even though he searched for you, who saved their lives all he could do is to be a regular customer of that bar where he met you. And one day, when he was sitting at the bar enjoying his drink alone while Kokonoi is busy with negotiations; he noticed the bracelet when he was served with another whisky sour.

“Told ya I would find you! Had to run through hell … but I did find you”, he utters majestically taking a sip and watching your ears burn in red hues.

One thing that BONTEN INUI SEISHU learnt in this world of violence is not to keep debts pending but he didn’t exactly know how to clear your share. He knew money or sex wouldn’t amuse you so now he occasionally visits your bar to watch you, to listen to your songs, and to think how to pay you out.

No, violence didn’t rub off on him, affection did and that’s how Koko noticed how Inupi has been a little sneaky on their every meeting.

+networks— @tokyometronetwork @downtown-roponggi

+tags—@zoraedits @etheralyonn @1900-aria @ily-inupi @haitaniapologist @rayfuyu Ik you'll love this :")

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alarrytale · 3 months

Note

Hi Marte - do you think Louis & Harry argue about how much Louis drinks? Harry's tattoo 'you booze, you lose' seems a bit pointed.

Hi, anon!

You said grass was a dirty drug

You like to preach with a vodka in your mug

I think they probably have, yeah. Or not just the drinking but substance (ab)use in general. I think they do it out of concern for each other. I also think they each prefer different substances, and they have different effects, so it's probably hard to understand the others pov. I think Louis use is more regular, but the substances more socially acceptable (alchohol, cigs and weed). Harry's is less frequent, but he's done less socially acceptable substances like shrooms and coke. Harry drinks too, but it's hard to say how much and how frequent. Louis is so public about his drinking. Louis also seems to use substances as a coping mechanism to a larger degree than Harry. But Harry's done that too, when he's stunting for example.

I think they both know how much they've both been through over the years and how hard things still are for them. So i don't think they judge each other. They also know how addictive and damaging substance abuse can be (Liam, Fizzy and Troy). So i think they keep an eye out for each other. It's so hard to tell with Louis, what's him bragging and trying to look cool, and what's an addiction problem. I hope he's got good people around him who can guide him in the right direction.

#drugs tw #alchohol tw #louis image #harry image #their lifestyle isn't exactly compatible with a sober life #i'm more concerned about louis chain smoking than his drinking tbh

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ianthonydeftones69 · 3 months

Text

The day had started cold and wet, much to Ian and Anthony’s surprise. The news channel lied, predicting the average Californian morning, but alas, the rain continued to pour. Wow, a rare occurrence.

“So, what do you suppose we do now,” Ian questioned, running his hand up and down Anthony’s chest, “big boy.”

Anthony’s skin raised as his brain processed the nickname. Ian always knew he had a soft spot for nicknames. “Well, I don’t know,” he practically spat out out, trying to keep a level head as Ian’s fingers continue to work their dexterous wonders over the second man’s bare chest.

Ian watched the goosebumps form on his best friend’s skin, carefully observing as a yawn escaped from his lips. They had a busy night, after all. “You know, I got Rhett and Link to watch Charlie for me, he’s still at their house right now,” he whispered, fanning his hot breath on the shell of Anthony’s ear. “You know, that means we’re all alone.”

Anthony shuddered, feeling his face flush bright red. “All alone,” he repeated to himself. He knew it would only be a matter of time before him and Ian would lose their patience and go back at it. “You know, Charlie’s only a few months old,” Anthony continued to rile Ian up as an attempt to return the energy, “Don’t you think Charlie’s a bit,” he paused to play coy, “lonely.”

“Lonely, how so?” Ian held intense eye contact with Anthony, waiting desperately for an answer. The atmosphere in the room had become thick, so dense it could be sliced in half with a knife. It was then that Ian had become aware of his own erratic breathing, and the unfortunate hardness becoming evident in his pants.

Anthony giggled, realizing he had flipped the switch completely on Ian, he was now in control. “Ian, my big, strong, alpha,” Anthony continued to butter his best friend up, “I’m saying, why don’t we give Charlie a brother or sister. You. know..” he batted his eyelashes at the other, feigning a sexual innocence, “I am in my omega heat cycle.”

The rain, though cold and wet, vastly differed from both Ian and Anthony at the moment. Though the rain had been a harsh and cold wet, unforgiving to the two Californians, the wet the two had experienced was practically that of a fire. It was hot, and blazing, and urgent. Much like the kiss the two had promptly shared, following Anthony’s suggestion regarding Charlie’s siblings.

“Fuck,” Ian muttered out between staggered breaths, “You know I’ve always wanted to see our house full of a bunch of little guinea pigs,” He smashed his lips back against Anthony’s, the two of them practically fighting for dominance, “I know Charlie will be happy to get a sibling. As long as we remember to fill both of their bottles with booze.”

Anthony chuckled into Ian’s kiss, grinding his slicked, omega heat against Ian’s leg. “Ian,” he begged with a hoarse voice, “You know how much I love my tattoos, why don’t you go ahead and add some new markings for me.” He dug his claws into Ian’s back, the two now rolling and switching positions during their furious need.

Ian was about to foam at the mouth. Anthony knew what he was doing. Though he was a feeble omega and Ian was the alpha, Anthony knew how to push every button of Ian’s. He knew how to rile him up, how to get him going, and he knew how to get Ian hot and bothered. It was a skill he only knew, all of Ian’s past mates had failed to excite Ian the same way he did. “You’re awfully needy today, what happened?” He laughed, trying to mask his own extreme desire.

“I just want my alpha,” Anthony fake-pouted, following it up with a cackle as he saw Ian’s face change. He began to slowly make his way down Ian’s body, trying his best to get Ian to fold before he did. Even though he was the omega and Ian was the alpha, he just loved to see Ian vulnerable, and in touch with his more omega-side. Leaving sloppy, wet kisses down the man’s happy trail, Anthony had eventually reached the beginning of his alpha’s furiously-red schmeat.

“Darling, you’re hungry tonight,” Ian put his hand in Anthony’s hair, feeling the softness of it and the vague sweat forming on his scalp from his omega heat cycle and his excessive hormonal reactions.

“What? A man’s gotta eat.” Anthony said before taking his alpha’s cock into his mouth. Ian’s head fell back with a grunt, the softness of his omega’s mouth and throat fueling his want to fill Anthony with more little Charlies. He wanted it, no, he needed it. He started bucking his hips and thrusting into his best friend’s throat at a rapid pace, imagining it was his omega-slicked asshole instead. “Fuck, Anthony’” he said through gritted teeth, accompanied by a particularly sharp thrust. “Charlie will be so happy with a brother or sister.”

#ianxanthony #ianthony #ian and anthony #ian hecox #anthony padilla #smosh fanfiction

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brabe · 2 years

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i swear i'm not even one for jealousy or possessiveness in general, but apparently hangster has direct access to my hindbrain because i cannot stop feeling unhinged about rooster's possessive streak (that we all seem to agree on) specifically. even better because i believe that he has always prided himself in being a pretty chill and laid-back kind of guy; jealousy, clinginess and the likes a turn-off in partners. but then comes hangman. and when the deep-seated origin of all their animosity finally crystallizes into a starving kind of hunger for each other, rooster is overcome with this almost animal instinct to make him his and no one else's, to claim him for all the world to know exactly whom he belongs to and with. he's kind of surprised by his own intensity, but then again not really; it’s consistent with all the million different ways jake seresin makes him lose his mind.

anyway, this train of thought lead me to the devastating idea of TATTOOS, and the fact that they're insane enough about each other that i think they would.

i've come up with two scenarios:

- they've been giving dating a go after the mission, and it's been so insanely good. it's wildly way too soon to probably even think it, let alone voice it, but this truly feels like it.

one night in the heat of the moment rooster (he def TALKS a lot) presses his fingers into a gnarly hickey he left on hangman's body, and says something along the lines of wanting to tattoo it on him, to make his mark permanent on his skin for everyone to know he’s off-limits. hangman completely short-circuits. he loves this intense side of rooster. he preens, basks in it, loves the feeling of being wanted—loved—like this by him.

it was meant to be a throw-away line, right, rooster says a lot of stuff in those moments (the thing is, he actually always means it too).

maybe they start joking about it... until it's the night before both of their deployments, to different places. they end up giving each other stick-and-poke tattoos. it would be something small and visible only if you were to get acquainted intimately with their bodies. which, if they both had their ways, no one but each would ever again. despite all of rooster’s big talk, something only for them to know it's there.

now i'm ruins thinking about them lying awake at night in their respective posts, missing each other something fierce and stroking gentle fingers over their tattoos (and sending sappy-sexy snaps).

- it starts as a stupid stupid bet the first time around at top gun 'to make things more interesting’. the one getting second place—in their minds it's a given that it's going to be one of them to get the trophy, the other right behind—has to get a tattoo of the other's choice. they’re so going to regret this, but no way in hell either one of them is backing down. it’s settled. they spend every second in the classroom and in the air at each other's throats, and every one that they can spare in each other's beds (too-big feelings are staunchly ignored, but deeply felt nonetheless).

hangman wins by one single point in the end. on graduation night rooster shows up to hangman's room with booze because no way in the hell he's doing this sober. hangman is surprised that he came, and says that they don't have to actually do it. rooster says that a pact is a pact. after jokes that he's going to write something like 'hangman is too good to be true', followed by loud threats, hangman tries to steady his trembling hands and pokes the ink into rooster's skin. neither of them breathes during the whole process. it's something small and hidden, like a secret. you would have to get intimately acquainted with rooster's body to find it. it stabs at hangman, the thought of anyone else having rooster the way he has him in this moment almost suspended in time, in this bubble they've created in hangman's room, in his bed. suddenly he never wants this night to end. suddenly he's overwhelmed with the need for rooster to mark him back, to give him something tangible to remember rooster by in case that this is it; his own secret to keep—well, a second one, the first one being how he’s fallen in love.

so hangman plays up his inebriation and says something something about how it's only fair if rooster gives him a tattoo back, in the end it was only a point anyway. rooster is like, 'are you a pod person?? what have you done with jake 'hangman' seresin? there's no way he’s not lording his one point over me for all of eternity'. hangman, feeling raw and esposed and like maybe he finally gave himself away, says, 'nevermind', and tries to backtrack, but rooster stops him mid-sentence and says, 'i'll do it'.

it ends up being the last time they sleep together make love. they crash and burn, like they seemed destined to from the start. too many sharp edges and protective barriers, and anger, so much anger; words unsaid, others said too recklessly; too much pride and expectations, and what feels like the weight of the whole world on their shoulders.

not ready for the one yet.

over the years they both think about getting the tattoo removed, but end up never having the heart to. various partners' questions about it brushed off with a dismissive 'just a drunken mistake'. that's what they repeat to themselves anyway (even when they still avoid scrubbing the skin there too hard).

by the time they get back to top gun for the mission the tattoos are mostly faded—you wouldn't notice them in the showers if you weren't staring—but still there (maybe there's a metaphor for them as well in there somewhere).

they're frantically tearing each other's clothes off after having only just made it back alive and probably having spent their lives' worth of miracles. rooster is kissing his way down hangman's body, when he stops suddenly. hangman is already starting to spiral about rooster having changed his mind until he touches where the tattoo is. in the craze of it all hangman had completely forgotten about it. he turns crimson and is ready for the earth to open up and swallow him whole because there is no way that... rooster catches hangman's hand and brings it where his own tattoo is, hangman’s gaze follows: it’s faded, but it’s still there.

they reink the tattoos.

this time they are ready.

#this wildly got away from me #don't even breathe in my direction or i'll shatter #good god how they make me FEEL #hangster #hangman x rooster #top gun #top gun: maverick #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 2 years

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what are Austen's tattoos

Okay so I spent a bit thinking about her personality and what would suit her and I’ve decided on a few major ones!

For her chest tat, she has an open book centered along her underbust and down her sternum, she has a feather quill dripping ink onto the pages below (I don’t have a pic for this one, I couldn’t find one that fit the image in my head).

Then she has two big symmetrical skeleton hands on the front of her thighs (one hand on each leg) and the shading makes it look like the hands are gripping onto the skin. Here’s a basic reference picture, just mentally add the extra details I mentioned!

And then down her spine she has a type of nsfw line art tattoo of a woman’s figure

And then she probably has random little ones littered around her body in other places. Y/N and Harry would be talking about their tattoos one night and they’d bond over how they had both gotten some stupid ones in their lifetime.

“I have the word ‘big’ on my big toe.”

“I have ‘fuck you’ written down the side of my middle finger.”

“I had to get ‘you booze, you lose’ from when I lost a bet during beer pong.”

“I have ‘Andy’ printed down the center of my left foot; I got shitfaced during my twenty-first birthday and spontaneously decided to commemorate my favorite childhood movie.”

“That’s pretty cute, actually.”

Y/N scoffs knowingly. “My mom didn’t seem to think so.”

“Mm.” Harry nods in solemn understanding, keeping his sight trained on her delicate fingers as they absentmindedly trace the scales on the mermaid inking sketched upon his forearm. Her touch is practically addictive. “Mine nearly had a stroke when I got back home for winter break after my first semester. Walked into the house with a half sleeve she knew absolutely nothing about.”

Her attention jets up to his face, her digits stopping their soothing caresses as her lashes flutter with newfound curiosity. “What’d you say?”

Harry swallows down the noise of protest hinging along his teeth, opting to let the corners of his lips twitch at the funny memory instead. “I told her that I fell asleep on the plane and the kid sitting next to me decided I was the perfect canvas.”

Y/N sputters into airy laughter, shaking her head in amusement as she retakes her feathery motions across the drawing on his arm. “Did she light you up?”

“Brighter than our tree-topper, yeah.” Harry chuckles in return, sighing lightly through his nose as he reminisces the story. He then proceeds to square his shoulders grandly and clear his throat dramatically, pitching his voice higher and emphasizing his accent with a certain female twang, obviously intent on imitating his mother with his following monologue. “‘Harry Edward, what the bloody hell have you done to yourself?! You think you’re hot shit now just because you’ve been mucking about the States, is that it? Wipe that stupid smirk off your face before I shove your head into the fireplace and burn it off myself!”

Y/N’s giggles rise in volume at Harry’s little act, and he can’t help but quietly appreciate how beautiful she looks when she’s grinning so freely. She appears softer and less intimidating— her features supple and her smile lines more prominent— and he has to resist the urge to reach forward and pinch her silky lips fondly.

“Fuck, that’s priceless.” Y/N snorts faintly, knuckling at her glossy eyes and wiping away the tears of joy that had gathered along the ducts. “It’s a wonder you made it back alive.”

“A proper Christmas miracle if I’ve ever seen one.” Harry agrees sagely, fiddling with a loose thread on one of his mismatched socks in order to give his itchy hands something to do. “The holiday spirit convinced her to spare me, it seems.”

“I think she just didn’t feel like scrubbing blood out of the stockings hanging from the mantel.” She counters sarcastically, shrugging her brows jestingly. “Is she okay with them now? Your tattoos, I mean.”

“She couldn’t care less about them now. Thankfully.” He twists the frayed lining of his Nike accessory around his index finger and gives it a rough tug, snapping it off and tossing it onto the concrete floor of his balcony, to be carried away by the wind. He wants her to keep touching him in more places than just his forearm. “Got used to my bullshit, I suppose. Though I reckon that would change if she knew about the miniature hairy dick and balls I have stamped on one of my arse cheeks.”

“Pause.” Y/N blinks at him owlishly, her fingertips faltering yet again, much to his dissatisfaction. “The what?”

“Dick and balls.” Harry repeats slowly, gesturing vaguely towards his crotch for extra significance. “Cock and sack. Peter’s pecker and pickled peppers.”

“Oh, I understood you the first time.” She clarifies, waving away his immature synonyms with a flick of her wrist and a wry tilt of her head. “I’m just trying to gauge if it’s true.”

Harry’s two front teeth dig into his bottom lip suggestively, his gaze flickering down to his belt buckle with a certain devious glint shining in the olive hue of his eyes. “Only one way to find out.”

#anthropologyrry!ask #anthropologyrry

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taraa-dactyl · 1 year

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It's Always Sunny Headcanons

Frank's forgotten Lake House is being foreclosed by the bank so the gang make the trip up to clear out the house, Mac and Charlie put an inflatable raft on the lake and promptly lose the oars and are stranded in the middle of the lake as the inflatable slowly deflates. Dennis and Dee accidentally lock themselves in the creepy basement which served as Franks sex dungeon, obviously Dennis is weirdly intrigued by the room and wants to take the devices back to his apartment and Dee has to endure Dennis' slow descent into horny madness.

The gang take a trip to Vegas, Frank is involved in the booze and strippers side of things and doesn't realise the strippers are actually drag queens and vehemently argues that they're babes. Charlie doesn't even know what gambling is but wins bank, is brought into a back room by the casino owner because they think he's cheating and is threatened with a beating. Mac, Dee and Dennis go on a bender and have hangover esc shenanigans, they also think one of them had sex with Dee again.

Dee gets an abortion, Mac berates her and tries to convince her not to do it based on his religious beliefs, Frank is against it because he thinks having a kid run around the bar would be great for their schemes (something about how often they need someone to climb through vents but can't fit), Dennis is against it because he wants to use the baby to make moves on women and get them to think he's a sensitive guy because the mother abandoned him and the baby. Charlie doesn't know what an abortion is and Mac teaches him a very wrong and religious version on it to get him to agree with him.

Dennis somehow makes his way onto a love island type of reality show, he scares the other contestants due to his serial killer vibe and the women see him as too old, making him question everything about himself. Mac and Dee are very jealous they weren't invited onto the show and tries to force their way on, interrupting other people's interviews. Frank wants to see the women in bikini's and also tries to force his way in, Charlie is just along for the ride.

Mac brings the gang to his church, they force their way into the choir and derail masses when they sprinkle in Boyz to Men songs.

Charlie buys a tattoo gun from amazon for shits and gigs, the gang day drinks at the bar and give each other tattoos, you best believe it is not a sanitary process.

Frank and Charlie have worn each others underwear before, not on accident, Charlie suggested it to understand each others world.

#Its always sunny in Philadelphia #It's always sunny #dennis reynolds #dee reynolds #frank reynolds #charlie kelly #mac iasip #mac mcdonald #iasip #headcannons #it's always sunny headcanons #iasip headcannons #taraa-dactyl

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twopoppies · 11 months

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Hi Gina! I was looking at pics from last night’s show and I noticed a tattoo on H’s under arm that I never noticed before. It’s kind of a faded script one between i booze you lose and the handshake one. Do you happen to know what it says? Thank you!

Hi sugar. I’m not quite sure which tattoo you mean because there isn’t exactly something between those two, but maybe you mean his Late Late tattoo?

He got that one when they did tattoo roulette on James Corden’s show in 2015.

If you were thinking of something else, LMK!

#Late late tattoo

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farmlesbians · 2 years

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you booze you lose tattoo you will always be famous i will always remember you babygirl

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rottinghouseplants · 5 months

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In the quiet town of Newcrest, Iris is a talented young tattoo artist that has spent her entire life putting others' needs before her own, caught in a relentless cycle of people-pleasing. But when she finally decides to break free from her past and embark on an exhilarating new journey in the bustling metropolis of San Myshuno, her life takes an unexpected and thrilling twist. Surrounded by a mischievous and enigmatic crowd who challenge her every notion of right and wrong, Iris discovers a side of herself she never knew existed. Will she succumb to the allure of her newfound freedom, transforming into the captivating villain she tried so hard to protect others from her whole life?

Trigger Warning: mentions of depression, and parental drug use, and other heavy topics

Made For Mercy: Prologue: Suburban Hellscape

I have uncovered a sinister truth, one that many people overlook, or their souls forget in time. The real monsters aren't lurking in the shadows, or under your bed. They don't have razor sharp teeth or claws that could tear through you. They lurk in plain sight. You pass them on the street everyday, oblivious to the danger around you. The real monsters aren't the ones in bedtime stories and folklore, they are those that smile in your face while they twist the dagger that lies buried deep in your back. Their presence is so pervasive it can almost be felt, like a cold chill that slowly creeps into your veins. Their malicious intent lingers in the air, and they leave behind a trail of broken promises and shattered dreams. They are the true monsters, hidden in plain sight.

I could feel the warmth of the daylight pouring through the blinds, beckoning the alarm bells from my bedside table. I remember a time where this was easier, getting out of bed in the morning didn't feel like such a chore. I longed for the time when my reality felt better than my dreams. These days, I'm not sure if I've been stuck in one of those nightmares for years. My eyelids were heavier than even the day before, but I had to push through. That's what adults do, right...?

The only thing guaranteed is that I have to work in order to pay to survive, but that feels so hopeless. Another day in paradise, seems like such a joke now. I knew that I had to keep going, even though I wanted to give up. My mental health was unravelling and I was becoming more exhausted with each day, but I couldn't stop. I felt like I was trapped in a cycle of having to do something I didn't want to do, just to be able to survive. I had no other choice - I had to keep pushing, even if I didn't think I had the strength to do it. I felt like I was betraying myself and my principles, but I had no other option. After all, who would take care of the cat?

I rolled over and grabbed my cellphone off the bedside table, silencing the alarm. I let out an audible sigh, three unread texts from my mother, if you can even call her that anymore.

I'm sorry. Please forgive me.

I'm your mother. Please call me back.

I promise I'll go to AA. I'll get clean, I promise. I love you. I know you're tired of me apologizing.

I tossed my cellphone to the floor, I feel a pang in my chest. I can't count the amount of times I've opened those same messages, and I didn't have the heart to engage in it anymore. There's something about losing your parent to drugs and booze, that tears you in half. I don't recognize her anymore. I push the hair out of my face, and get out of bed, struggling with the internal battle within my mind. On one hand, I want to forgive her and be her emotional support, but on the other, the endless cycle of promises and apologies has left me feeling jaded and broken. I look down to see Pixel holding a ball of yarn in his mouth, staring at me.

"Hey buddy, do you want to go outside for a little bit?"

He turns and trots off towards the door, yarn ball in tow. I trail behind him, grabbing my cigarettes and lighter off my drawing desk. I pause for a moment, my hand hovering over the lighter. Am I really any better than her or dad? I know that I should quit smoking but I also know that the nicotine will help sooth my frayed nerves. I sigh heavily, feeling the inner conflict between doing what I know is right and giving in to vice. I reluctantly light the cigarette and step outside onto the back porch.

My mom used to say something to me when the depression got bad, and it has lived in my brain rent free for years. I hear her say it every time things get bad again. She really loved Alice in Wonderland growing up.

Don't go down the rabbit hole again.

I can't go back there. Never again.

But I can feel the darkness creeping in, the despair and anguish threatening to take over my soul. I know I can't ignore it forever. I'm so scared, so scared of what I could do, what I could become. I'm scared of the person I'll transform into if I let it consume me.

I look around and see the void my mom has left. Everyone always talks about forgiving the addict because you have to hate the addiction, not the addict. But no one ever talks about how the children of addicts have to cope with the feeling of being torn in half. Spending your whole life, feeling like you have to downplay your accomplishments and small victories, because you don't want to take the focus of their healing. Feeling like you can never share the things that bring you joy, because they can't focus in active addiction. It's hard to navigate those feelings, it's hard to heal from that, but god damn it, you have to try.

I looked down at Pixel, rolling around the porch with his yarn ball. I took a deep drag of my cigarette and smiled. I don't know who I'm trying to convince, the world around me or myself. I decided about two weeks ago that I'm going to move to San Myshuno. Call me a quitter or a runner if you want, but I need to get out of this place. I can't let the darkness take over me, I can't let it win. Pixel and I deserve a new beginning. I have to rewrite this story, no matter how hard it is.

#sims 4 story #sims story #ts4 #long post #creative writing #ts4 storytelling #ts4 stories #madeformercy

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