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caraphernellie · 4 months

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build god, then we’ll talk // e.w.

a/n: preacher!ellie part 2!! yay! once again heavily mcr inspired lol, also mm a fever you can't sweat out aka the best p!atd album. i got super freaked out because this accidentally posted a few days ago and i dont even know why what the actual fuck. im super nervous about this one. this one is significantly worse than the first and if i wasnt already before writing this i certainly now am never seeing the pearly gates. AGAIN IF THIS ISNT UR THING DONT READ

read part one here!!

word count: 2.6k

warnings: preacher!ellie , christian!reader . some random bitch named paisleigh i tried to go for names karen would pick. fem!reader , dom!ellie , sub!reader . rough sex . church sex they are in the church please dont be mad at me LMFAOOOO . oral (e!receiving) , inappropriate use of holy water?? lol. established relationship (secret lovers). internalised homophobia + religious trauma , mean!ellie , she’s mostly very nice , just punishing reader and suuuuper clouded by internalised homophobia. degrading/slight humiliation kink , corruption kink if you squint , dacryphilia , spanking (r!receiving) , fingering (r!receiving) , hair pulling. dialogue heavy tbh ,, . use of the word whore. use of pet names : angel , sweet girl , good girl.

towards the back of the church, you sit next to ellie during the evening service. her warm palm covers most of your thigh, thumb rubbing gentle circles into your skin. it’s secret moments shared in plain sight that get you going, that make your heart flutter and knees weak.

it’s moments like these that increase the doubts you are having about your faith – not like ellie knows, and absolutely not like you would ever tell her. she is your lover, and you have trusted her with so much, but she could never understand this. she’s dedicated her life to the church like it’s her purpose, and you’re haunted by it.

so even as you feel yourself losing sight of the need for salvation, and as you find that you can only feel happy and free once you let go of religion, you will sit through every mass. you will pray with her. you will continue to live this hidden, shameful life, living with the knowledge that nobody else would approve of the way you love ellie.

and it gets difficult, hiding it. you’ve lived in fear, hiding the secret of your sexuality for so long, but ellie’s warmth and her gentle touch is something you wish you could show off.

the service ends, and ellie stays back as she often does to talk to anyone who needs her guidance. you sit and wait for her in the pews, growing impatient, and growing guilty as your thoughts run wild and you realise what an apostate you have become.

you fidget in your seat, antsy and itching for ellie to come back to you, so you’ll be alone once more, and free to feel her touch and her kiss that you so desperately crave. but she’s having a chat with her neighbour paisleigh, of course, who is asking ellie with some not-so-subtle judgement when she’s going to settle down to become a typical housewife. you scoff at such an idea.

ellie? settling down with a man? that’s laughable.

but watching her talk with paisleigh, the way her chapped lips move and the moonlight shining through a stained glass window hits her eyes, you need that kiss more than ever.

almost on autopilot, you trail towards ellie, standing beside her with a blank face.

she interrupts paisleigh for a moment, turning to you, there’s always that undeniable look of adoration in her eyes, how she always tries to make time for you, and be attentive towards you, and it curls the corners of your lips upwards.

“you alright?” ellie asks, quirking a brow in your direction, “somethin’ wrong or you’re just bored?”

and you realise you’re actually not sure why you came up to ellie – or, you do know, but it’s not something you could ask right now. so you just grab her hand instead of replying, and ellie’s gaze hardens. in an attempt to appear professional, she squeezes your hand before dropping it.

“is something wrong?”

“uh…”

paisleigh utters something under her breath, something that sounds a little mean, before she speaks up. “i should get going. i will see you tomorrow.”

“for sure,” ellie nods, smiling. “see you.”

and ellie doesn’t even spare you a glance, waiting until paisleigh exits the church. you’re alone, the church is empty, and it’s so silent you could hear a pin drop.

at this point, it’s a matter of who will break the silence, but ellie beats you to it. you know she’s not happy – she’s always bitching the second you come close to even subtly showing love to her when someone else is around.

“jealous or something?” ellie says, crossing her arms. she leans against a pew, crossing her ankles. “couldn’t handle hearin’ about me possibly settling down? or were you just in the mood to get us caught?”

“ellie, it’s not like that, i just–”

“then what was it like?” ellie challenges, raising her eyebrows. she’s got a real mean streak, and it only comes out when she wants to protect you.

“it was- j-just– i just wanted to be close,” you mutter, looking down, a newfound meekness in your tone, “it was just me holding your hand, i–”

“and if someone takes you holding my hand the wrong way, then what? hm? you’re willing to lose everything just to hold my hand? what, you’re that desperate for some attention?”

“i wasn’t thinking, i just–”

you don’t know when ellie got so close to you, but her hand grabs your chin and lifts your face so she can stare into your eyes. there’s not much of anger there. you know what it is, it’s her own internal struggle, that she’s only taking out on you because she saw an opportunity.

“not thinking, huh?” ellie snorts, then caresses your cheek, a far cry from the callous tone she’s giving you. “poor girl, wanted me so bad, is that it?”

your lips are sealed, a doe look in your eyes that makes ellie smirk.

“talk. you wanted me, hm? use your words.”

“i just wanted a kiss,” you say quietly, “or at the very least, j-just a hug.”

“awe,” ellie croons, pulling you close. her heart isn’t calm like usual and you can hear it, the harboured speed she gained in fear of your secret being revealed. she’s warm as ever, her hands on your waistline and chin resting on your shoulder. “well here’s your hug, angel. but you know what i think?”

“...what?”

“you’ve forgotten where the fuck we are.”

ellie pulls away from you, and shoves you in the direction of the altar, causing you to gasp and catch yourself with your arms on the white table.

“we are in a place of worship. in the house of god, sweet girl, do you know what god thinks of people like us?”

you look down at your hands. “we’re… sinners.”

“that’s right,” ellie hums in approval. she ends up behind you, a hand gripping your throat to pull your back against her chest. “we’re sinners. and you went as far as to want me, to be thinking these kinds of thoughts during our service, in which we are to honour him. if you’re that much of a whore, i’ll give you what you want right here, right now.”

you splutter, quick shock taking over completely. “i- wha- here? in church? ellie, y- we can’t, this isn’t priv–”

“nobody’s watching,” ellie murmurs into your ear, leaving a kiss right where your shoulder meets your neck. “nobody except god himself. so why don’t i teach you a little lesson, show god how sorry you are?”

oh.

“i…”

ellie’s hand slides down your neck and to your back, pushing, pushing, until you’re bent over the altar. she tugs at the hem of your dress with one hand, the other trailing up the back of your thigh, leaving goosebumps in its wake like little electric sparks.

“let this punishment be our prayer. our repentance,” ellie suggests, holding your dress up. a finger traces slowly over the outline of your panties, such a feather light touch you almost don’t feel it, until she’s tugging them down and letting them pool on the floor over your mary janes. “remind me, what are we?”

you’re preoccupied, trembling over the altar and mulling over in your mind the way the air brushes against the heat in your cunt.

preoccupied, until there’s a stinging pain spreading over your ass, and a slap echoing through the empty church, followed by your own yelp.

“i said,” ellie speaks through gritted teeth, repeating herself, “what are we?”

“sinners,” you answer, voice wavering. “so sorry, i– ah!”

another spank, right on the other ass cheek this time. ellie chuckles, her large hands kneading over soft skin to soothe the sting of it.

“we are sinners, and we always beg for forgiveness, don’t we, my angel? so how dare you–” the word dare is punctuated by another spank over the middle of your ass. “-think something so sinful in a time where we are supposed to be holy?"

a pathetic mewl whines past your lips and you tremble even more, “i’m sorry, ellie, but the–”

“don’t be apologising to me,” ellie says, chuckling. she cups your cheeks in her hands from behind, tilting your head up. your eyes focus on the large wooden crucifix hanging on the back wall of the cathedral. “apologise to him.”

“oh,” you whisper, the heat of embarrassment bubbling inside your stomach, rising to your face. “yes. of course.”

ellie’s face appears beside you, a soft kiss pressing against your shoulderblade. “i love you,” she whispers, and she loses sight of herself for a moment – forgetting where her values are, forgetting her internal battles for just a moment to show you something tender, a warning, a reminder that she is playing.

and just when you think the harsher treatment is over, she gives you this short warning that almost doesn’t register in your mind. she slaps your cunt, and she laughs at the way you buck your hips away from her hand.

“this is not going to be gentle. you didn't think your punishment was over, did you?” ellie teases, two fingers spreading open the soaking folds, gathering creamy slick over the pads of her digits. she lives for every reaction you have, every shudder and every little gasp. “tell me, sweet girl, what happens if you sin?”

“y-you’re damned,” you reply, trying to focus your gaze over the cross, and your back arches when two of ellie’s fingers slowly slide inside. “damned to hell.”

“yes,” ellie answers, an audible strain in her voice, where she grits her teeth over the feeling of your walls clenching around her long digits. “and is there a way to save yourself?”

“by… oh, el– by looking to god,” you say. your voice is barely above a whisper, but ellie nods anyway, slowly beginning to move her fingers. “and by apologising, a-and seeking forgiveness from the lord, and y-you can be absolved of s– ffuck.”

ellie is hardly listening to your answer at this point. you can’t see her, but if you could, the look on her face would be tantalising enough. lip pulled between her teeth, thick brows burrowed over narrowed eyes as she watches her fingers coat with your wetness.

“you’re right,” ellie whispers, flitting her gaze up to the back of your head again. “so what are you gonna say now, angel? do you want to be an angel? or keep being a whore?”

“i-i’m sorry, lord,” you plead, a moan choking out as ellie speeds up her pace, thrusting in your pussy, squelching, wet sounds echoing in the church and increasing your embarrassment. “please f-forgive me, for disrespecting you, in a t-time meant for w– ellie!”

the shriek comes as ellie’s free hand spanks your ass again, and she growls, “now apologise for both of us. like we always do.”

you nod, panting softly, but there aren’t many words coming to mind at the moment. think, think, we pray every time. this shouldn’t be hard.

ellie’s fingers slide in and out of you, and she smirks when she feels your clench around her again. the pace is so fast you can’t keep up, and her fingers pound so roughly it almost burns. a knot builds in your stomach, tears in your eyes.

pulled out of your daze, ellie rips a cry out of you as she grabs a fistful of your hair and tugs your head upwards to look at the cross after noticing your head fall. she keeps her grip tight. a hot tear slides down your cheek.

“aw, angel, this shouldn’t be hard,” ellie coos, almost as though she read your mind. “are you sorry?”

“yes, yes,” you whine, hands holding onto the edge of the altar for stability. “please, oh f-fuck, ellie.”

“please? please what, angel?” ellie asks, smirking. “you’re not cumming until you can show god you’re sorry for this.”

“i’m sorry!” you cry, a tear or two dripping onto the white tablecloth on the altar. “please, lord, f-forgive us, we have- are sinning, again, a-and- ahh, mmff,..”

ellie almost rolls her eyes, a large grin on her face that she can’t wipe off for the life of her – you can’t get a full sentence out, and she’s proud.

“please guide us, and p– protect us from future error,” you continue, “thank you for your f-forgiveness.”

“good,” ellie murmurs, easing up some of her relentless pace only to make you more comfortable, “keep cryin’, maybe your tears’ll convince someone to believe you.”

you can’t bother to reply, though ellie’s finally, for once, acknowledged how unapologetic you both are. not sorry, just guilty.

“el– ellie, i’m going to– mm, right, yea, like that please-”

ellie releases her grip on your hair, and hooks a strong arm around you. she laughs as your cunt twitches when her hand begins rubbing at your puffy clit, now with nothing on her mind but the goal of making you cum.

it doesn’t take long after that. a cord in your stomach snaps, unravelling as you shake and tremble and jitter, loud, lewd moans filling the silence of the empty church.

pulling away, leaving your wrecked hole empty, her fingers poke at your lips. as you still come down from such intensity, ellie lets you lean against her while your lips part and take her fingers in, sucking the slick off of them.

“good girl,” ellie whispers, her other hand smoothing your dress down and patting your ass. “you’ll make a perfect angel, so obedient like that.”

you hum around ellie’s fingers, hands lazily grabbing at her wrist, half lidded eyes trained on the veins in her hand.

“i need you to do one more thing for me, can you do that?” ellie asks, taking her fingers out of your mouth. she kisses the corner of your lips, and then grips your shoulders, beginning to push you down. “kneel.”

glassy eyes peering up at ellie, tear stained cheeks and a small pout on your lips, she grunts and reaches for her belt. “ah, fuck...”

she’s ruined you.

unzipping her pants, ellie takes down both the slacks and her grey boxers at once. there’s no time to process anything before she’s got a hand on the back of your head, gently prompting you to move closer, enticing you towards her messy cunt.

ellie looks down at you, huffing a breath out of her nose when she meets your eyes. “c’mere, angel, let me mess up that pretty face even more. just– aw, shit, uh-huh.”

your nose tickled by auburn bush, you press your face against her and flick your tongue out, lapping over her clit. the memory of your dwindling faith is hazy in this moment, nothing but ellie’s moans and taste filling your senses.

“that’s it,” ellie praises, leaning back against the altar to keep herself from growing weak. her hand begins to move your head, and you almost can’t keep up with it. “just so– mmm, ffuck yeah, shit, you’re so fuckin’ pretty.”

hands folded in your lap, there isn’t much you can do but take this, especially when ellie begins rutting her hips towards you. lips and tongue melting between thrusts and the hand moving you up and down, meeting ellie’s pulsing cunt, tasting her essence.

“sh– fuck,” ellie grunts, staring down at you, pretty green eyes jaded in pleasure, bushy brows knit together, and chapped lips groaning explicit praise while she teeters on the edge of orgasm.

“so, so, nnng, s-so fucking good, that’s my girl.”

your desperate whimpers vibrating through ellie’s core are what does it. she fucks her pussy against your face with a guttural moan, head tipped back in pleasure.

and when it’s all over, she lifts you to your feet, redresses herself. chuckling at the sight of your wrecked face, lips and chin covered in spit and slick, ellie kisses you with the gentlest affection.

“good girl, you handled that so well. hm, shit, you’re messy.”

looking for something to clean you off with, the only thing ellie can find around is holy water. smirking, she pours some onto her hands, and massages it over your face.

“amen,” she whispers, nodding her head.

and ellie’s smile grows genuine when half lidded eyes meet her own, and you bow your head.

“amen.”

tags: @dinasvampgf @fadedin2u @eurewili @diddiqueen @machetegirl109 @craz1er4you @divinediorss @onlinelesbo @thecowardwrites

i may consider a part 3 let me know if you want it :) it would be fluffier 😭 maybe they'd leave the church? mybe consummating a marriage iywim... hmm...

#ellie williams x reader #tlou2 x reader #ellie williams x fem reader #⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ fanfic #ellie fanfic #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x yn #ellie x you #ellie x reader #ellie x fem reader #preacher!ellie

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tboygareth · 1 year

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here, have a little modern steddie meet-cute. meet-ugly, maybe? idk. 1k words, mostly dialogue

"uber for, uh," the guy in the beemer at the curb looks at the phone in his hand, "eddie m.?"

"hey, that's my name!" eddie shouts, stumbling toward the car. the world is tipping sideways a little, but it's been a good night.

he wrenches open the passenger side door and slides in.

"cool if i sit up front, man? i get motion sickness sitting in the back, and you would not like me when i'm motion sick."

"uh, sure?"

eddie pulls the door closed behind him and says, "so what's your name, pretty boy?"

"you don't check the app before getting into some random guy's car?" the guy asks with a huff.

"oh, no, i never order these things for myself." eddie laughs. he tries to think back, remember how many jameson shots he put back tonight. can't. oh, well. "my roommate always sets it up beforehand when i come down to the styx for a show."

"a show? like a concert?"

"uh, no. drag show. styx is a gay bar." the guy's quiet at that. "that a problem? still dunno your name."

"oh. steve," the guy - steve - says shortly. "no, it just... looks more like a... metal bar, or something."

"sometimes things are both, can you believe it! they do a drag show last wednesday of every month. good show tonight, all the girls looked great." he kicks his feet up on the dashboard of the car, watches steve's eyes cut sideways at them as he does. "do you like drag shows, steve?"

he's testing the waters, feeling steve out to see if he should be worried about getting into some random guy's car outisde a gay bar with a dead phone. eddie's definitely had a little too much tonight. he's probably got glitter in his hair. there's definitely black lipstick smeared across his cheek from when allison chaynz planted one on him earlier during her set.

"only been to a few, but yeah. they're a good time. good show."

safe, then. tentatively.

eddie studies steve for a moment, trying to figure him out. he's got this thing he does sometimes, in an uber; eddie's an easy read - he gets into an uber and the driver immediately flips their spotify over to a metal playlist.

the driver's are usually easy to read too, and it's eddie's favorite game; he tends to know when he's got a country boy behind the wheel, or an emo transplant from the mid aughts, or the indie girlies with their iced coffees and perpetual dark undereye circles that all the concealer in the world can't hide.

the guy looks like he wears teenage boy deodorant and smells like repressed trauma. he has the indie girlie dark circles under his eyes, an apple watch strapped to his wrist. rich boy. drives a beemer. good hair, stupid highlights. there's a tube of burt's bees cherry lip balm in the center console and a days old energy drink in the cupholder.

"hmmm, the front bottoms," he decides at last, after staring at steve for what must have been an uncomfortably long time.

"i'm sorry?"

"i said, the front bottoms."

"is that a... what's the word... a euphemism?"

"no, steeeeve. it's a band. check 'em out sometime, your daddy issues'll thank you. do you like music, steve?"

"sure."

eddie clicks his tongue. "smells like bullshit. no one who likes music says sure when someone asks if they like music."

they're stopped at a stoplight. from behind the wheel, steve is studying him right back, looking him up and down, his gaze coming to rest once again on eddie's shoes on the dash.

"get your feet down," steve says, pushing at eddie's shins. "do you have any idea how dangerous that is?"

"fine, fine. so if you don't listen to music, steve, what do you listen to in this fancy bmw?"

"sports, mostly," steve shrugs. "podcasts sometimes."

"oh, boy, you are a walking red flag, aren't you? shame you're so pretty."

"well what about you? what do you listen to?"

"guess."

"i dunno, probably that metal shit. five finger whatever, or something."

eddie presses his hand to his chest. "five finger - oh, stevie, i am wounded. i wouldn't be caught dead listening to bro rock."

out of the corner of his eye, he definitely catches a smile from steve.

steve holds an aux cable out to him. "here, then. wow me. show me some real metal or whatever."

"god, i'd love to take you up on that," eddie says, huffing out a little laugh. he holds his phone up. "this sucker's been dead for hours."

this time steve's the one to click his tongue. "shame."

"truly. so what's your story, steven? what's got you out at three in the morning?"

"it's my night off," steve shrugs. "just started night shift at the hospital, trying to get used to the new sleep schedule."

"mmm, the hospital. you a nurse?"

"i am. trauma nurse."

"nice. ever see any gnarly injuries?"

"had a pretty fucked up dog bite come in the other night."

"shit."

"yeah." another stoplight, another unsubtle once over from steve. "so what about you? what do you do?"

"line cook."

steve's eyes linger on him a little longer than necessary. "oh, but i'm the walking red flag. got it."

"whoa," eddie laughs. "what's that supposed to mean?"

"i've dated line cooks. everyone's dated a line cook."

"sounds like something a slut would say, steve. craziest dick you've ever had, huh?"

"mmm."

it's not a denial.

they're getting close to eddie's building now, and that's an actual shame. because steve's cute. he needs a haircut maybe, and the stubble around his mouth and chin is just on the wrong side of five o'clock shadow, but he's got these distracting little moles along his face and neck and arm that eddie's been itching to play connect the dots with since he got in the car.

"wait, i know this building," steve says as he slows at the curb and looks at the address on his phone again. "my roommate's girlfriend lives in this building."

it clicks into place, then, for eddie.

"oh, shit! you're robin's steve!"

steve's eyebrows draw together as he gapes at eddie, and then his eyes go wide with realization. "chrissy's ed?"

"eddie," he corrects. "gotta be a level twenty friend to call me ed. and chrissy's the only level twenty friend i'll ever have."

"noted. good to finally meet you, man. i, uh. i guess this is you, then, huh?"

"yeah, sure is. maybe i'll see ya around." eddie goes to get out of the car.

"oh, you will," steve says, his smile lopsided and goofy. "i'll make sure of it."

"hold ya to it," eddie promises with a wink.

steve wiggles his fingers in a flirtatious wave as eddie walks backward on the sidewalk toward his building.

so robin's steve is cute. maybe he should have been letting chrissy set them up this whole time.

still. sports and podcasts. guy's a walking red flag. who knows, maybe they're green. eddie's never been able to see the difference anyway.

#steddie #steddie fic #bee's blurbs #idk what this is honestly #it came to me in a vision #buckingham #if you squint

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pinkerthings · 2 months

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the significance of mileven simply not understanding each other (pt 1):

(others have brought this up before but I think it’s a bit overlooked imo)

There are numerous times throughout Stranger Things where Mileven is shown to not be on the same wavelength, and the Duffers like to make it quite apparent to the general audience.

Starting with the obvious scenes:

“BLANK makes you crazy”

El is literally staring at Mike like she has NO idea what he’s trying to say.

Shes STILL confused even after he tells her it’s something old people tell each other:

Like girl…. i KNOW you were watching them soap operas and old timey romances during that year in Hopper’s cabin. You really expect us to believe you have no clue what he’s trying to say?

This scene was written like this on purpose for two reasons: comedic effect and diving deeper into mileven.

Back to not ever being on the same wavelength:

I talked in this post here about Mike being okay with El standing up to bullies in the past when it came to Mike or Will, but Mike suddenly not understanding when it comes down to El defending herself against Angela, showcasing the idea that they are definitely not in agreeance over what happened at Rink-O-Mania.

The Duffers like to purposefully write Mileven out of step with one another.

It seems as though every season has something negative in store for the couple, and not in a fun, slow-burn agonizing romance type of way, but in the frustrating “why can’t they just work it out” kind of way.

Season 1 obviously has El “dying” and leaving Mike for a year, but on a smaller note also has Mike trying to explain to her that if she moved into his house, Nancy would be like her sister, but he would not be like her brother. She does not understand this, and has her classic confused face on.

Season 2 has her being gone and coming back to see Mike with Max, and even though nothing happened between the two of them, El was still cold to Max when they first met, showing even if El is incapable of knowing what the word “love” is, she still somehow knows what jealousy is.

Season 2 also brings us an interesting scene with Erica and Lucas, where the dialogue just seems….really off and random.

Lucas catches Erica playing with his He-Man action figure and gets mad, taking it from her. To which she says, “Hey! They’re in love!”

Lucas responds with:

The scene is extremely random and the dialogue is just weird to me, the only explanation it being a metaphor for something in the show, and the only viable explanation is Mileven.

Season 3 has the entire “boyfriends lie” side plot, resulting in El dumping Mike for lying to him about his grandmother after Hopper’s talk with him. Their relationship the entirety of season 3 is the epitome of immature pettiness caused by jealous and hormonal teenagers who don’t understand what being in a real relationship entails--

We get El and Max spying on the boys:

Eleven is a mystery to Mike, he pretty much says it himself.

Their whole relationship is based on immaturity, and the audience knows that. The audience can see that the two of are clearly immature and don’t have what it takes to be in a real, committed relationship. That’s the point. Their relationship in season three is almost entirely to move the plot around in whatever way the Duffer’s want, and to showcase the idea that their relationship in screen is nearly always shown in either a comedic, pre-teen immature light, or a jealous, misunderstood, and petty light. There is almost no stable relationship between the two of them in season 3. It’s either too clingy or too toxic or full of lies or immature, blah blah blah. The only scenes of them either not making out or fighting is the last scene of them together right before the Byers move, and that’s a whole scene in itself to unpack!

Season 4 is where things get a little chaotic, as if things weren’t chaotic enough.

There are so many miscommunications and misunderstandings with Mileven this season, but the big ones include:

El feeling like Mike thinks of her as a monster-

and Mike looking at her like she just spoke badly about his favorite Star Wars movie-

Directly after that we have Mike saying El is being "ridiculous" because she's upset that he won't tell her he loves her, and him calling her a superhero, the complete opposite of what she wants to hear in that moment, but Mike doesn't understand that, because who wouldn't want to be called a superhero? (his way of thinking)

Later on we get Mike recounting this to Will, saying, "and if I would have said that thing..." etc.

Mike can't even say that he loves El to other people, and we're expected to believe it's still true?

We also get this:

another misunderstanding on Mileven's part. El thinks Mike doesn't love her (at this point, does he?) so she finishes her letter the same way he has: From, El.

Next we have Will and Mike's conversation on top of the car:

"I think it's just scary to open up like that, to say how you really feel, especially to people you care about the most, because...what if they don't like the truth?"

I've said it before and I'll say it again,

why would El NOT like the truth if the truth is that Mike loves her?

Mike nods at Will's words and looks away, seemingly lost in thought. Why would he agree with Will---that it's hard for him to open up to El because she might not like the truth---if the truth is exactly what she wants to hear?

It literally makes no sense.

We also get the Byler van scene, where Mike compares her to a superhero yet again, something she clearly does not like (I don't have a vid but here's the official script, where he says the same thing):

Also El being Superman and him being Lois Lane in the analogy....okay.

Next we have him calling her a superhero YET AGAIN ! during his monologue:

Like girl if I was El I would just give up at this point. This is the last thing she wants to hear. She doesn't want to be a superhero all the time, she just wants to be a person ! a girlfriend ! a friend ! a daughter ! yet Mike is making it seem like the main reason he loves her is because she's a superhero, which she hates.

And lastly we have:

"Did she...talk to you at all?"

"Not much, I mean...a little bit."

Let me get this straight......you finally confess your love to your longtime girlfriend in the midst of her fighting a literal monster & monster from her past while she is being strangled and held captive all while she's also trying to save her friend from death, and she doesn't say anything to you for TWO days after?

Ladies...the Mileven break up is writing itself, really.

And that is a thread on how the Duffers intentionally write Mileven to be on different wavelengths with each other every single season without fail to showcase how incompatible they really are.

They are setting this relationship up to where you want more for both parties; El deserves to be loved the way she wants to be loved, and Mike deserves to be loved the way he needs to be loved (if u know what i mean)

In part 2 I will discuss the importance of byler understanding each other, juxtaposed to mileven hehe bye !

part 2 analyzing Mike & Will here !

#stranger things #byler #mike wheeler #will byers #eleven #stranger things 5 #finn wolfhard #jane hopper #st5 #mike and will

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drudyslut · 1 month

Text

Pretty Blue Eyes — R.C

— summary: you see rafe at a party after he’d dumped you, and it hurts more than you thought it would.

— CW: 18+ only! angst, strong language, alcohol consumption, drunk!reader, hurt/no comfort.

— a/n: i’m so sorry. i love angst and when i’m sad, i have to make y’all sad too. this angst prompts list gave me ideas and i used dialogues 3, 14 and 20<3 likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated <3

I never knew losing him would hurt so much. Losing the one person I’d spent the last six months of my life with.

Six months might not seem like much to some, I understand people have gone through greater losses. But I’d fallen in love with him. Fallen in love with all the meaningless words he’d said. Fallen in love with his scent, his touch, his pretty blue eyes.

But he never loved me. I was just a game. Something to use to pass the time. I boosted his ego, made him feel special. And all the while, he was using me. Playing me. Making me fall in love with him, just so he could break my heart. It was random, and very unexpected. Four words was all it took to shatter my heart into a million little pieces — “I never loved you.” is what he’d said.

To make matters worse? He’d told me this right after we’d had sex. I gave myself to him. My whole self. And he took. He took and took, but never gave. He took until there was nothing left for me to give. He owned my soul, my heart, my body. He owned me, but I never owned him.

That was three days ago. Three days of crying myself to sleep, three days of not eating and drinking myself to death. Three days since I’d seen his face. I’ve tried to avoid him, but I knew I’d see him again. We live on a small fucking island for Christs sake. And he’s everywhere. He’s very well known. There’s no escaping him. And tonight proves that. He’s here. His pretty blue eyes watching me from across the room. I wish I could show him I don’t care, that he didn’t rip my fucking heart out and stomp on it…

But I can’t. I still love him.

“Are you okay?”

My best friend, Ashlyn’s, voice pulls me from the darkness I’ve allowed myself to crawl into. I slowly turn to face her, light brown eyes filled with concern intensely stare back at me.

I put on my best fake smile. “Yeah. Fine, why?”

Lie. I’m not okay, and I don’t know if I ever will be. But I can’t admit that.

She frowns. “You’re not okay though, I can see it in your eyes. Do you wanna leave? We can lea-”

I quickly cut her off. “No, no. It’s fine. Let’s just go get another drink. I’m gonna need them if I’m going to last here all night.”

Her frown deepens, but she nods her head. I internally thank the Heavens that she dropped the subject. I don’t want to talk about Rafe and how he’d absolutely obliterated my heart.

She grabs my hand, lacing her fingers with mine before pulling me off to the kitchen, and out of the eyesight of the beautiful, blue eyed man I once had all to myself.

“I’m thinking shots of fireball. Shit will get you drunk so fast.”

I laugh. “The alcohol version of red hot gum, I’m down.”

Laughing at my lame attempt at a joke, she grips the neck of the bottle, grabbing two shot glasses next and filling them both to the rim. I quickly grab mine, tossing it back and swallowing the harsh amber liquid. A shiver wracks my body as the burning liquid makes its way down my throat.

I cough, placing my hand over my stomach. “Fuck, I forget how much that shit burns.”

Ashlyn chuckles. “Yeah. But that’s what makes it great. The burn of this can help erase the burn you feel from Rafe being a royal douche.”

I can’t help but laugh at that. She’s right. I prefer the burn of the liquor over the burn of Rafe and his heartbreaking words.

She quickly fills the shot glasses again, handing me mine and watching as I down the amber liquid once more.

I slam the shot glass back on the counter. “Another, please.”

She smiles widely. “Atta girl. You’ll forget about the smug bastard by the end of the night at this rate.”

***

Ashlyn was right. I was…. twenty shots in?? I don’t fucking know, I was drunk. And I wasn’t thinking about the pretty blue eyed man.

I’m about to take another shot when a voice I didn’t want to hear anytime soon has me dropping the glass on the floor, clear liquid spilling at my feet as the glass shatters — representing my heart because of him.

“Y/N… I think you should cut yourself off and go home.. I’ll take you.”

I snap my head in his direction, those damn pretty blue eyes staring down at me. Looking at me like I actually meant something to him. Lies. He doesn’t give a fuck. He just doesn’t want me embarrassing him tonight. Fuck him.

With shaky hands, I grab another glass from the counter, my eyes never leaving his. I reach out and find the tall, glass bottle of Tito’s, pouring myself another shot and then downing it with my eyes on his.

“Fuck you, Rafe.”

He sighs, setting his beer bottle on the counter and placing his hands on my shoulders. His blue eyes search my face.

“Y/N. Please, go home. You’re drunk, and you’re hurting.”

I roll my eyes and scoff. Fuck him for trying to pretend he cares. He doesn’t give a shit about me. And I’m done caring about him.

“Stop acting like you give a fuck about me, Rafe. You dumped me. So it’s done. I just want to get drunk, and fucking forget I ever loved you.”

He glances behind me, his eyes taking in everyone that’s watching us. “Hey, can we please go talk outside?”

I open my mouth to tell him to fuck off, but he grabs my hand, pulling me outside. I’m so drunk I can’t fight him off. He pulls me all the way down the stairs of the front porch and down the long driveway until we reach his truck.

He opens the passenger door, tossing me inside and slamming it shut behind him. My heavy eyes watch him round the front of the truck before he hops inside the driver seat. He pulls the keys out of his pocket, sticking them into the ignition and bringing the truck to life.

I cross my arms over my chest with a huff. “Where the fuck are you taking me, Rafe?”

He glances at me from the corner of his eye before placing them back on the road. “Home.” comes his clipped answer.

I lean my head against the window. Why does he do this? He left me. Why does he care if I’m drunk at a party or not? Why can’t he just leave me alone and let me heal?

The smell of leather and his cologne fills my nose. I feel the tears begin burning the backs of my eyes, and I swallow the lump that’s formed in my throat. I lift my head, turning my head to the side to look at him. He still looks so good, and it hurts. He has one hand firmly gripping the steering wheel and the other lays lazily in his lap.

He has on a tight baby blue polo, and khakis with a backwards hat on. I want him to kiss me, and tell me everything will be okay. Tell me that he made a mistake and he does love me. But I know that won’t happen. He meant what he said, and there’s no getting him back, no matter how badly I want him back.

A few minutes later, he’s pulling into the driveway of my parents house. He puts the truck in park and hops out, rounding the truck to my side and opening the door for me.

He reaches his hand out, and I take it. My heart pulls in my chest at the feel of his touch again. I miss him.

He helps me out of the truck, and walks me to the front door. I turn and face him, wanting to get some things off my chest before he goes.

“Why’d you do it?” I ask softly, tears stinging at my eyes and threatening to spill.

He sighs, and the look in his eyes hold slight regret. “I can’t answer that… I just, I didn’t want to be with you anymore. And I’m sorry I hurt you in the process, but I couldn’t pretend to love you when I didn’t.”

The first tear falls, and I blink rapidly, swiping at my cheeks with the back of my hand. “I still don’t understand what I did wrong..”

He places a hand on my shoulder, and I can’t stop the sob that is pulled from me.

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Y/N… I promise. I know this is so cliché, but it’s not you, it’s me. I just couldn’t commit.”

The tears are now flowing uncontrollably down my face and my body is shaking. I’m in pain. And he’s making it worse.

“I love you, Rafe. I don’t want to lose you.”

“I’m sorry.. I just can’t. You need to stop loving me.”

I choke out a sob. “I don’t want to love you anymore. But I do.”

He sighs, letting his head fall and his eyes look to the ground.

This is the worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my entire life. I’m not getting him back. I’ll never have Rafe Cameron in my life again. And that thought alone has me spiraling into a depression I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back from.

“Say something, Rafe.” I choke out.

His head lifts, and his eyes find mine again. He’s went from looking regretful, to angry in just seconds.

“What do you want me to say? I left you. And now you’re showing up to my friend’s house, getting fucking wasted and causing a scene. What the fuck do you want from me? I can’t fucking force myself to love you! I just fucking can’t! I’m sorry, but that’s the fucking truth. I never fucking loved you, Y/N. Let it the fuck go.”

Another harsh sob wracks my body as I come to terms with the fact that he truly never loved me. He never cared about me. He used me, and I let him. I grab my house key out of my small purse and stick it into the lock. I push open the front door, turning to face him before I walk inside, I say, “I could have lived without knowing you never meant anything you told me. You fucking broke me, Rafe. You ruined me. A once bright and happy fucking woman, and you’ve shattered me. I fucking hate you, and I hope you’re happy. Please, just leave me the fuck alone.”

He opens his mouth to speak, but I slam the door in his face, quickly locking it and sliding my back down the door until my ass hits the floor. I bring my knees up to my chest, curling in on myself. I let out a loud scream, knowing my parents aren’t home tonight. Sobs wrack my entire body and I feel the physical pain in my chest from where he once lived. He fucking broke me, and I will never forgive him for that.

RAFE TAGLIST: @rafeism @f4ll-for-you @drewstarkeyslut @lorelai-lilith @lizcameron @dilvcv @thewitchesofart @rafesgfxo @unsaidjaelinrose @itsmytimetoodream @thatsthewaythechrissycrumbles @r1vrsefx @rafetopia @rafemotherfuckingcameron @anqeliclust @presleyanswrites @carma-fanficaddict @madzzz0797 @slytherhoes @jscameron @ijustwanttoreadlols @luversgirl @sugarcoatedstarkey @skyesthebomb @stvrkey @vhour @emma77645 @rafeinterlude @superlegend216 @mannstarkey @digitaldiary111 @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @crgirlsworld @atorturedpoetx @carolinaxvz @maybankslover @cantstoptherecs @pradabambie @slut4ani @biggesthat3r @wearemadeofstardust @sylverdragon @ditzyzombiesblog @the-sylver-dragon @nattywatty @urfavpersonality @stupidbxnny @mattyskies @corpsebridenightamare

rafe cameron masterlist | taglist form

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron x you #obx rafe cameron #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron brainrot #obx angst #rafe angst #heartbreak #hurt/no comfort #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe x reader

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ozzgin · 3 months

Note

I can't get your yakuza headcanons out of my mind, Daitou's got me in a chokehold and I'm not complaining, like--

in regards to that doodle you made to show height difference between reader and the boys [I love your art btw (●♡∀♡)] - I can't picture myself in reader's style, I'm currently going through my goth phase in my 20s lmao; picture a big bitch with tattoos and messy hair who's listening to nothing but 2000s hits and screamo bands - so I'd like to request a headcanon of how Daitou would react to a gender-neutral reader like this :D I also like to incorporate the idea of them once being in a famous band that he's a fan of! (sorry if this seems like a lot, I have a huge imagination hehe)

but if he's more into the cute and helpless type, I'll just walk my ass out the door and yeehaw my way into another yandere's arms ✌😔

That's on me for not drawing the reader inserts as cartoonish cinder blocks :') In truth I'm a little bit embarrassed seeing how many likes that doodle has gotten, it was something I put together in a hurry and the clothing was meant to be baggy, shapeless, with not too many folds for the sake of simplicity. I myself am more of a pilgrim goth, just to emphasize the randomness of the choice.

Drawing reader inserts always leaves me a little anxious. If I use a light shade of gray, will people think I'm excluding poc? Will plus sized readers feel like they've been disregarded? What about masculine readers? As someone who's demiromantic I always struggle taking appearance or gender into consideration, because to me it has no influence whatsoever. Which is hard to express when you want to offer blank slate visuals as an extra to the story.

What I'm trying to say is that all of my characters would like you for who you are. Sure, they find your looks cute, but it's not the defining reason. Maybe you have similar traits to them, maybe you're the complete opposite and they find it intriguing. You could be a buff man and Daitou would be just as grateful to have someone who isn't afraid of him. I usually stick to a female reader for bigger stories to avoid messing it up long term, but in the grand scheme of things it makes no difference. I always imagine reader to be a shapeless blob that provides the dialogue I need for the story mood. There's no concrete preference or type for any of my OCs. I mean, ideally you'd like them back and not hang them upside down above a BBQ pit but I feel these are sensible requirements (?).

And now for the actual headcanons since my ramble is over.

First encounter is comically awkward but for reasons you’re unaware of yet. You’re obviously used to people staring at you (more so in a country like Japan), so you were expecting the curious glance every now and then. On the other hand, being under scrutiny, from a man even more unusual looking than you at that, is odd. Mildly uncomfortable. You’re shifting yourself from one leg to another, hoping to be done with the introductions soon.

On his end, Daitou is anxiously fidgeting and trying his best to focus. He’s seen this face before and he can’t shake off the familiar feeling. Where the hell…He obviously can’t downright gawk at you, and he isn’t sure how to politely formulate a question. After several sheepish peeks, it finally dawns on him: weren’t you part of that band he really likes? No, what would the chances be? Then again, how many people out there would look exactly like you? Is it rude to ask? He has no idea. He resumes his mumbled description of the apartment and hands you the papers to be signed.

Back at his place, he finally digs through his merch and sprawls out the available clues. “I didn’t know you were into this kind of music”, Kazuya comments as he looks over the man’s shoulder. He’d come over to ask about the new tenant. “I’m pretty sure it’s them.” He concludes, confidently placing his index over a CD cover. “Huh? Who? The tenant?” Kazuya holds back his chuckle. “Why would a celebrity show up for a shady apartment offer? You’re tripping, man.”

“I’m sorry, this is getting ridiculous.” You finally exclaim, annoyed by the persistent stares of the now two men facing you. You’re standing in front of the apartment building, arms crossed, huffing at the tall scarred man and his blonde friend. “No, I’m sure of it. Even the tattoo is the same.” Daitou turns to whisper to Kazuya, oblivious to your complaints. In turn, Kazuya lightly elbows him, mouthing something about being rude. “Just ask them, man.” He adds, this time louder. “Ask me what??” You groan. “W-were you…um…in this band by any chance?” Daitou manages to blurt out, searching his pocket for the CD case and ceremoniously laying it under your eyes.

Ah. It finally clicks and you exhale, relieved. You confirm their suspicions and show them some backstage photos to solidify your claim. You ask Daitou if he wants an autograph or something, then swiftly scribble your signature on a piece of paper and hand it out to him. He holds it with a wide, childish grin. “You’re a weird one, you know? You could’ve just asked. I guess I didn’t expect to find a fan in the wild, especially here.” Daitou carefully folds the souvenir, eyes lidded with nostalgia. “Oh yes, it’s great. Drowns out the screams.”

#yandere yakuza #yakuza x reader #daitou

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gamermattsgf · 2 months

Text

Coming of age movie hot takes // Matt + Chris

YES, I realise that this is not a proper piece of writing, but don’t worry babies, mommy has got u covered for the weekend coming (hopefully) *nervous laugh*.

You guys can ignore this absolute yapping if u want but it’s really something that I must get off my chest because I think about it an unhealthy amount and make up too many scenarios for each of them in my head with themes and certain plot lines included. Plus, I feel like some of u are absolutely gonna eat this up lol.

But… here are my individual hot takes for both Matt and Chris and what kind of coming of age films they look like they’d star in + with specifically random but accurate details included. (Obviously these are all my own ideas and they may be vastly different to someone else’s, but I felt as though tumblr was the perfect place to brain dump this onto all of u lovely readers)

Matt:

So first up is Matt. Matt gives very much one of those low budget indie coming of age movies where the quality may not be as good but the cinematography is beautiful, as is the plot line. Matt’s movie is the kind of movie you would go to watch and sob at for the entire time because it’s so irrevocably soul-crushing that it tears your heart up piece by piece. If he were to be in an indie movie I feel like it would low-key give off the same kind of energy as something like ‘All the Bright Places’ or possibly even ‘Five Feet Apart’.

Something absolutely tragic is bound to happen in Matt’s movie, and I feel like him dying due to some kind of terminal illness is a high possibility because I don’t know why, it just fits his vibe in a really weird way? Like- his coming of age movie has to be unbareably depressing for some reason.

He’s delicate and gentle, one of those really interesting characters that has so many layers/complications to him. Him and his main love interest share such an odd but heart-warming relationship that you just can’t help but be stuck thinking about the movie days after it’s finished. It bothers you so much that their happy ending was just out of reach.

For the soundtrack, I’m mostly getting Phoebe Bridgers vibes (specifically her Punisher album), something that’s mind-numbingly sad and fits the overall heartache of the cinematography so well that you just want to cry whenever something like ‘Smoke Signals’ or ‘Halloween’ plays beneath the ensuing dialogue. Also, in addition to Phoebe, I also get heavy Current Joys vibes such as ‘In a Year of 13 Moons’ and ‘A Different Age’. The very thought of imagining it makes me want to flat out sob.

Outfit / aesthetic wise for Matt, I envision very much warm brown leather jackets and baggy blue jeans with beat up sneakers and knitted sweaters. He always carries a tattered notebook and drives around a beat up pick-up truck. He smokes red Marlboro cigarettes and constantly seems to have one neatly tucked behind his ear (what-? It would literally look so pretty matched up with his beard and fluffy hair combo… don’t kill me). He’s shy and likes to keep himself to himself but is also hopelessly in love with our main character that also sort of keeps to herself, so he decides to pursue her before it’s too late.

I also feel like this Matt would for sure write 100 love letters to the main character but she would only discover them hidden within his notebook after he had died because when he was still alive he would never tell her what he was writing down whenever they shared moments together. Possibly Matt never got the chance to confess his feelings whilst he was alive, so they stayed forever friends and nothing more right up until he slipped through her fingers at the very end…?

(Bye I’m sobbing, why the fuck does my mind have to be so vivid and imaginative??)

Chris:

For Chris I feel like it’s a little different. His coming of age movie would definitely be a mix between a light-hearted comedy of the classic ‘underdog that finally gets the girl’ whilst also incorporating really important life lessons into the mix of the colourfully bursting screenplay. In contrast, the cinematography is just as beautiful as Matt’s, but in a hazier way, so I’m getting very much party + late night hang out vibes from what Chris’ gives off. This includes darker, more moodier lighting, almost like ‘Euphoria’ in a way. I think his movie would more so correlate with either something like ‘Perks of being a Wallflower’ or even something like ‘10 things I hate about you’. I think the added comedy matches up with Chris’ personality in real life perfectly.

There’s definitely got to be one of those cliche scenes where they lock eyes at a party and all of the other guys on the football team are staring at the most well-known girl in school but Chris only has eyes for our main character. There’s some form of blue/pink/purple flashing lights and everything seems to take place in slow motion as they tentatively peer at each other from opposite sides of the random fish tank before them (Romeo and Juliet style) or some other form obstacle in the way.

For Chris’ soundtrack, I’m thinking something a little more upbeat, and I was possibly debating on Lorde, her songs fit Chris perfectly in my opinion, and no one understands the young mind quite like she does. The emotional vulnerability of her songs mesh together beautifully with Chris’ love language of touch and teenage curiosity and I can just envision something like ‘Perfect Places’ or ‘Hard Feelings’ playing over the back of one of those ending monologues where the movie cuts to a bunch of different scenes as maybe Chris says something really sappy and sentimental over the top of them in his voiceover.

Finally, outfit / aesthetic wise for Chris, I would normally put him in his baggy light-wash jeans and then pair it with a white t-shirt and some form of a zip up hoodie with a backwards cap, but to be honest, most of what Boston Chris used to wear way back when works pretty well too. I’m thinking, typical high school student attire, he’s on the lacrosse team, and is always wholesomely trying his best to impress the girl he’s had a crush on for years with his skills, giving the movie that light, feel-good atmosphere that leaves you with a fuzzy glow after you’ve rewatched it for about the 5th time.

(Again, actually sobbing, I wish these two brief ideas of movies actually existed wtf)

Author’s notes: I’m sorry if this is literally so stupid but I think about it so much, and I think about a lot of other possible movies the triplets look like they could star in. In fact, I even have a whole entire second series sitting in my camera roll of me explaining what horror movies I think each of them would look good in, so if u guys end up liking this one, then I would consider giving u a breakdown of my horror movie ideas if anyone were to wish it hehe. But thank u for listening to my rant and I hope it makes as much sense in your head as it did in mine… 🎀

People who I think would entertain this yapping and enjoy what I have to say here: @luv4kozume @luverboychris @lovingmattysposts @luvmila444 @rootbeerworshiper @nicksmainbitch @lacysturniolo @thesturniolos @strniohoeee @asturniolos @sturniolosreads @sturniolosstar @meanttomeet @sturniolowhore @mattscokewhore @matthemunch @mattestrella @vecnasnose0 @ellie-luvsfics @imwetforyourmom @breeloveschris @kvtie444 @stursweet @bernardsgf @fake-sturniolos @mattslutt @1800chokedathoe @orangeypepsi

#matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo smut #sturniolos #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo x reader

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mouschiwrites · 6 months

Text

Creepypasta/MH - Doing Halloween Stuff With Them :)

(Characters: Tim/Masky, Eyeless Jack, Jeff the Killer, Nina the Killer, Jane the Killer, Ticci Toby)

Tim/Masky

Hear me out... corn maze

I believe that Tim enjoys a good puzzle every now and again

He loves trying to figure things out (specifically when there's nothing at risk)

Getting to show off his navigational skills is also a major plus

He just likes to impress you, even if it comes off as annoying sometimes

"See? What'd I tell you? The exit's right there."

Though he does like the satisfaction of completing the maze, what he really treasures is that time you spend together figuring it out

Once you finally find the exit, you'll celebrate with hot cocoa :D

Eyeless Jack

This man LOVES carving pumpkins

He goes all out; definitely one of those people who makes the crazy intricate designs that look like they take hours

He'll love it if you help him!

If you have a steady hand, he'll let you do the details

If you don't, he'll task you with gutting the pumpkin/handing him tools

You guys collaborate on multiple pumpkins throughout the month, setting them in random locations for everyone to see

If there's a design you want to do, just show it to him, there's no question he'll be down

If it's too simplistic, he'll try to add more details

"Ooh, Jack, look at this one. Can we try to re-create it?"

"Of course! Though I do have some ideas on how it can be improved..."

Jeff the Killer

Another pumpkin carving enjoyer

But for a different reason... a very different reason

He loves the goriness of gutting the pumpkins

He couldn't care less about making actual designs, he just wants to get messy stabbing the pumpkin and gouging out its insides

That being said, he'll 100% gut your pumpkin if you ask him (he'll probably end up doing it even if you don't ask)

It's honestly a little disturbing watching him work

He just gets this look in his eye...

"You, uh... you doing okay there, Jeff?"

"Hm? Yup! Never better!! Say, can you grab the big knife from the kitchen for me?"

Nina the Killer

You best bet she's the costume queen

Spends the whole year planning matching horror-themed costumes

She'll settle for no less than creativity and perfection

High-quality props and articles only!! She'll even make them herself if she has to!

You can expect to spend at least an hour in front of the mirror while she does your makeup/adjusts your clothes

She's an SFX makeup legend, loves incorporating as much gore into your costume as possible

Don't ask why it's so realistic (it's not like she knows how the wound would look if it was real or anything)

"Wow, Nina... It's almost like I can feel it! It's so real!"

"No, no. If you were feeling it, you would be screaming pretty loud right now."

You can also expect to attend multiple parties where you show off your costumes

You guys dominate costume competitions

Jane the Killer

Horror movies!!

Specifically, making fun of them

You both pick apart the plot, the characters, the dialogue, the special effects, everything

No horror film is safe from your scrutiny

If you're the type to get scared during horror movies, her snide comments will help distract you

"Ooh, I can't look!"

"Oh, come on. Look—I bet they used corn syrup for that fake blood. It's way too thick."

When the movie ends, you're both feeling more amused than scared

She doesn't like to see horror films in theaters because she doesn't get to make commentary, plus she doesn't want to "waste" money on a "stupid tryhard-horror flick"

She'd much rather dig up some old indie DVD/VCR and have a home movie night with you

Ticci Toby

Halloween sweets are his bread and butter

Candy apples, fun-sized candy bars, candy corn, pumpkin bread...

He would perish if you made anything homemade for him

Spends the whole month gorging on sweets almost as fast as he can get his hands on them

He will not share with anyone but you

And even you only get a small portion of his goodies

Robs at least one child on Halloween night, mostly for the candy but also because he likes scaring little kids

"Where did you get all that candy?"

"Got it from a little birdy. By that I mean a kid in Falcon cosplay."

"Toby! ... save me the (favorite candy)."

Thank you for reading! Have a good day/night my spooky pookies <33

(divider by saradika)

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #masky x reader #eyeless jack x reader #jeff the killer x reader #nina the killer x reader #jane the killer x reader #ticci toby x reader #masky #tim wright #jeff the killer #nina the killer #jane the killer #ticci toby #marble hornets #marble hornets x reader

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zarla-s · 3 months

Note

Do you get anxious whenever you start drawing comic pages? Is that connected to ending of Handplates? It's like you're trying to find any random activity to avoid drawing comics. And your usual sketches get less and less dialogue. I'm asking because I'm worried and I don't know what's happening. D:

Hmm... I haven't really thought of things in these terms? I was like "eh that can't be right" but then I did a quick look back and it does look like I've been doing solo shots or single/two panel comics for a while, haha. I've just got a lot of small ideas or images I wanted to get out recently. And I've been writing a lot of fic! Which I haven't done in a while, which is nice. Writing a fic (particularly lengthy ones, like the Hell jailbreak or the hanahaki one) is a lot more time consuming than people might think. I started the hanahaki one in early December and only just posted it a few days ago...

I was doing Handplates for such a long time, like seven+ years and all, that I'm assuming the vast majority of you out there never really knew me when I wasn't doing it. The thing is that Handplates is a massive outlier - I never did any project of that scale before, or one that updated that consistently or took that much constant effort. Never! Most of the time before when I'd start a big project I'd get distracted and never finish it, or there'd be huge hiatuses between updates (Vargas). It was super weird to have such a big project I so consistently updated and worked on. It's not common for me! I'm amazed looking back on it all that I was so committed to it when so many other ones fell flat.

Handplates took up a LOT of my time, so with it over I've been doing some other things I wouldn't have had much time for before. Playing some games, taking screencaps, writing fic, web design, little small experiments like all my pixel stuff. Just trying out different things! I don't think I'd say I was anxious about doing a comic page... it's more so that I'm just tired, I think. I was doing these huge elaborate pages that'd take days to finish for so long - now that I don't have to do it anymore, my brain just wants to relax, haha.

The reason for the slow updates on Defrag is really that I keep getting stuck lol. It's not really focused like Handplates and I still don't really know how it'll end. I keep getting stuck on what should happen next, so I keep putting it off. It's just me being a lazy writer rather than having anxiety about doing a page. |D

At least, I think that's what it is...

#asks and answers #morning8magpie #to be fair i kept getting distracted while doing the hanahaki one #case in point #been hard to focus lately!

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norrisleclercf1 · 8 months

Note

I'm feeling so excited about your celebration and New drivers to your list so, may i request

Poly Seb x reader x mark

Stay with me tonight #7

Random dialogue #50

I'll apreciate it so much if you do it but if you didn't like the idea, that's ok!

7. Constantly smiling or giggling when your partner is around

50. “Your heart’s always on your sleeve.” “Only around you, because you’re the only one who knows me so well. Too well, in fact.”

A/N: HEHEHHEHHEHEHE ugh love this, love this love this. BTW This is set when Seb was still in RBR and Mark and him are teammates also this is set in 2011 and you're close to Seb's age while Mark is older than both obvi

"She's always giggling when they're around." A mechanic points out, watching as you kick your feet ontop of the box as Sebastian and Mark stand around you. "Yeah, but it's kinda cute no?" Mark turns his head, looking at both mechanics staring at them, which has them rushing off.

"So you think I'll win hm?" Seb teases, sticking his tongue out, hand resting on your knee. "You always win, Sebby." Smile spreading out on your face, Mark can't help but smile with you. Normally the two of them would bicker about who'd win but when you smile, they can't help but smile with you.

"Cute." Mark leans in close, looking around before he kisses you quickly and pulls away. "Gross." Seb sticks his tongue out, earning a smack on the head from the older driver. "Hey no hitting." Slapping Mark's hand. "You hit me." Mark argues, smirking as he leans in close, but you lean back.

"Nope, you don't kiss from me. Apologize." Pointing to Seb who milks the slap, holding his head. Mark stares but looks around before leaning down and kissing the spot, Seb chuckling and pokes Mark who just playfully slaps his hand.

"Guys get ready!" Someone yells, your two playful men are no longer there getting their game faces on. "Hey!" They turn, seeing the worry in your eyes. You always got so worried, but you try hard to keep it together.

"Just know," "We know." They cut you off, looking shocked Seb smirks. “Your heart’s always on your sleeve.” He explains. “Only around you, because you’re the only one who knows me so well. Too well, in fact.” Mark smiles at your words, and kisses you on the cheek, Seb kissing the other one. Your silly smile comes back, unable to help yourself.

"Come back to me, both of you." Nodding the high five and head to the cars leaving you there to watch them walk off.

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shawnxstyles · 11 months

Text

the list

DATE: JUNE 15, 2023

summary: tom offers for you and your writing partner to work at the empty frat house when you have no other options. even though you hate tom with a burning passion, you can’t fail this class. when all is going fine, your partner has to leave abruptly for an emergency, leaving you with no way home (wink). thinking you’re all alone, you decide to snoop through tom’s belongings to try to find his rumored list.

request: yessss

song: Hot in Herre- nelly

words: 9.2k

warnings: SMUT (f- receiving [oral, fingering, cock-thumping, nipple play, choking, deepthroating], m- receiving [blowjob], [small] daddy kink, degrading kink, rough/protected sex [not clearly consensual, but implied], mention of reader going under/slight subspace), pet names (princess), a lot of language, and a lot of dialogue.

note: I’M BACK and i’m with this big baby right here. i hope you guys enjoy this because it took me a few days to write. i’m glad to finally have some time to write again!

frat!tom x college!reader

–

“I’m really glad we got to be partners on this,” You smile as you hug your textbook and notebook to your chest.

“Yeah, me too. I think we’ll do great,” Brandon replies, and then the conversation basically stops there. It was dry and kind of awkward, but he was pretty nice, so it’s alright with you.

Your Creative Writing class was assigned a project that consisted of writing a short story with another person. Your teacher picked the partners and you got Brandon, which you were thankful for because he is original and creative, also known as not being a plagiarizer. But you weren’t sure how well your guys’ genres mixed.

You wrote a lot of old realistic romance stories, whether it was for free-writing in class or on your own time. Brandon apparently wrote a lot of futuristic science fiction and read a lot of comic books. You weren’t against the idea that he was a nerd or a geek, but you just hoped it didn’t overwhelm your writing process. But again, he was nice, which you didn’t get from most guys.

The campus is bussing like usual. All different kinds of people roam the concrete ground waiting for their classes to start or trying to leave without dropping all their things or wandering because they don’t know what else to do. It’s a balance that you’ve been accustomed to for the past year. Yeah, you took a gap year at 18 and are now a 20 year-old sophomore in college, but that doesn’t mean you have your shit figured out. No one does, and that kind of comforts you.

With these random thoughts, you and Brandon walk through the crowded campus until you reach the library.

“What the hell,” You squint your eyes at the paper sign that is taped to the glass door. You suggested the library as your work spot because Starbucks may be a little loud and you needed a lot of silence while writing. You’re also very picky with your own stories, so you can’t even imagine how it’s going to be when you combine ideas. Maybe you should just be less conceited…

As you read the surprisingly fine print, you find out that the room is having an inspection check.

“The librarian told people not to eat in there,” Brandon shakes his head in disappointment and you sigh in subtle annoyance.

“Well what are–”

“Oh, shit, it’s closed?” A voice appears from behind you and you nearly turn around and swing at the body. Only because you know whose body it belongs to.

A body with perfect fucking arms and a stupidly good-looking face–

Stop it.

“No, it’s just locked and has a sign that says it’s closed,” You roll your eyes as you spin around, facing Tom in all his stupid glory. A slight smirk creeps up his face as his eyes look down at you. You watch as he chews his gum, and you hate that it’s kind of hot.

Stop. It.

“What’s with the attitude? I just asked a question–”

“Well, it was a stupid question,” You snarl, biting on your lip in irritation. Even looking at him gets you all riled up because you know how he is.

You’re not sure exactly when you started hating Tom, but you know exactly why. Hate might be a strong word, but it goes well with the feeling you experience every time his name is mentioned or you see his smug face. You hate the way he talks about girls. You hate the way he treats girls, like they’re on some type of list and he’s just checking them off. Every time he even looks at a woman he finds mildly attractive, she’s instantly on said-list. He probably has a handwritten copy somewhere. You wouldn’t be surprised because you’ve heard that rumor before.

You heard a lot about him before you actually knew him. You heard through the grapevine that he lost his virginity to a girl in college when he was only 15, and now he’s a senior in college. And that he fucked three different girls in the same day during his senior year of high school. And a new one that you’ve heard is that he has sex every single day with a new person because he can’t live without it. You’re not sure if all of these are true or correct, but after you got to know him just a little, you know that it can’t be too far from the truth.

Tom was in your Film Analysis class last year. You purposely sat next to him because you thought he was cute, and you weren’t wrong, but you paid for it at the end of the year. He would constantly peek at your papers, and at first, you thought it was a sign of flirting. But he was just too involved with his phone during the films that he never knew what was going on once the assignments came. Your professor didn’t let you guys change seats because it was easier to take attendance with a seating chart, and he had “hundreds of students every day” blah blah blah. Why did your teacher have to be so old he was on the brink of death?

Throughout the entire year, you would overhear Tom talk about girls and what he was doing with them. It disgusted you that someone could be so objective and still get the girl (or girls), but you tried not to get involved with it. Then one day, like a random switch, Tom tried to hit on you. He tries to deny it, saying “Why would I do that?” and “You’re not my type” and shit like that, but Tom is only in it for the sex. He doesn’t care too much about appearances, so that’s how you know he was full of shit.

To this day, you swear you’re still on his list, whether it’s a physical or mental one. Tom flirts with you like he can, and yeah, sometimes that fucks with your head, but you remain composure. Because of your curiosity, you want to find out, one, if he actually has a list and two, if you’re on it. But your hate for him overpowers your curious wonders. If you did find this “list,” you wouldn’t stop making fun of him for it. And, he wouldn’t be able to survive if you were actually on it.

“Can we work at your place, Y/N?” Brandon asks, completely ignoring Tom.

“Can’t,” You reply, “my roommate asked for the evening, so she can…have her boyfriend over.”

“Oh,” he stares at the ground awkwardly and scratches his neck.

“Oh, you mean have sex?” Tom inserts himself into the conversation. You glare at him with searing lasers in your eyes. “What? You can’t say the word sex? Does it turn you on too much or something?”

“Tom!” You whack him in the arm with your heavy textbook and he simply laughs. It was whole and deep, and it made you feel all warm, but so did your hatred for him, so what’s the difference? “What is wrong with you? Do you have any filter?”

“I’m going to say…no,” he winks and crosses his arms like he is the coolest person to walk this earth. His smugness makes your fists clench and your blood overheat with fiery.

“Okay, before this gets into an argument, where are we going to work?” Brandon chips in with his hand on your shoulder. You take a deep breath, trying to think rationally.

“You can work at my place,” Tom licks his pink lips and infamously smirks again. Your body is so hot that it melted your brain into a mush of incomprehension, so you can’t even respond to his idiocracy before Brandon very unsurely says why not.

Fuck.

–

“Welcome to The House,” Tom introduces dramatically while flinging the door open for you both. You swear that was the most gentleman-like thing he’s ever done.

“At least come up with an original name,” You roll your eyes again like your body has been programmed to every time Tom opens his mouth.

“So much attitude for such a tiny person,” he taunts, shutting the door behind him. Brandon walks quickly into the dining room with his backpack, leaving himself out of the very heart-felt conversation between you and Tom. Your jaw ticks a tad at his words. “I love when you roll your eyes.”

Your face scrunches in disgust, but can’t help it when your curiosity slips from your mouth, “Why?”

“Because then I know I’ve done my job,” A hint of a smirk rises on his lips while your eye twitches at his arrogance.

“And what is your job? To annoy the shit out of me? ‘Cause if it is, congratulations! You get promoted every time you talk to me,” No matter how badly you want to, you resist the urge to roll your eyes just because you know how much it would please him. Even with your irate words, that all-too familiar smirk lingers like he’s proud.

He likes when you fight back because no one ever does. It’s easy for him. Too easy sometimes. Yeah, he likes when he can sleep with a girl without having to try too hard, but once he met you, he realized he liked a bit of a fight. Tom craved the passion and bubbling tension that strangled the air between you both. It was thrilling and enthralling, and he knew with enough poking and prodding, you would snap. That was his job; to make you snap.

“Close, but no cigar.”

“What are you, like, a hundred?”

“I’m surprised you’re still talking to me, princess.” There’s that name. That stupid fucking name. You know that he throws that title around like candy to women. You know that the sweet undertone of the tag is what it does for them and what gets them in his bed at the end of the night. It angered you that he thought you were so easy, so gullible. But no, you weren’t going to let him smooth-talk you all the way to his bedroom. Even if it was just upstairs…

“Actually, I’m not anymore,” You finished the conversation and walked away. After you stopped facing him, your eyes immediately went to the back of your head in a dramatic roll. As you enter the dining room, you are suddenly aware of the heat radiating off your skin. You lift a hand up to your beaming cheeks, which turn out to be flaming with the fury bubbling in your blood.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Brandon asks, being the nice guy he is. You swallowed and inhaled.

“Yeah. Let’s get started.”

–

Not even ten minutes later, Tom comes bustling into the room. He says he was just checking up on you guys, but he was just trying to annoy you. After half an hour, he comes back again, saying something about the last football game and if you two have watched it. You inhale a few times, squeezing your pencil in your hand. He walks into the kitchen ajar and grabs something from the fridge.

“Tom, can you leave us alone? We have to get this done by Friday.”

“But it’s my house. I should be able to go wherever I want in my own house.”

“You literally invited us here, so we could work in peace!” You didn’t mean to shout, but Tom brought out the worst in you.

“I never said anything about peace–”

“Look, Tom, just please leave us alone, yeah?” You lowered your voice a bit, hoping maybe he would hear you. To your surprise, he licks his lips and re-enters the dining room, standing near your chair at the end of the table.

“All you had to do was say please, princess,” he winks and struts away, and somewhere inside of you is annoyed that he got the last word. But a big part of you was…affected. Badly. You never thought in a million years the name princess coming from his mouth would hit you, but for some odd reason, it did. Maybe it was because of his impromptu alliteration. Or the wink–no, it couldn’t have been the wink. Maybe it was the octave of his voice? You noticed how it got a tad deeper when he talked to you compared to how he did earlier. Were you looking too far into it?

Fuck, now he’s got you in your head.

Was this his job all along?

“How does that idea sound?” Brandon’s voice pulled you from your overwhelming thoughts, but not fast enough.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t catch what you said,” You apologize with a head shake. He repeats, and you write it down. This goes on for about an hour or so; you two throwing ideas back and forth.

You tried to find middle ground. You assumed you would be writing some sci-fi romance, and you were correct. Although you wanted to be there in the moment, you couldn’t stop thinking about Tom, and just the thought infuriated you. If you were present, you wouldn’t have complied and agreed to some of Brandon’s suggestions without more of a fight. The more ideas he spouted out, the weirder they got.

“Robots…God, I love writing about robots. Robots falling in love?” he pauses for a moment. “while trying to take over the world! You have to write that one down.”

You wrote it down, but your mind was moving differently than your body. As he suggested more topics, you zoned out completely. He was clearly very into the process and you…couldn’t have been farther from it. Like an echo, Tom lingered in your mind.

Where was he? What was he doing? Was he having sex right now? Why wasn’t he bothering you anymore?

You might have told him please, but Tom is just as stubborn as they come. You can’t say much though because you’re just as stubborn yourself. Maybe that’s why you two always bicker. You wondered if he fought with anyone else like how he battled you. Was he trying to make you mad just for the fun of it, or did he want something more?

Was there really a list? You can’t be the only person who’s considered that, right?

“Oh no.” The two words out of Brandon’s mouth brought you back because they were different from one of his absurd ideas. His eyes are staring at his phone screen once you start focusing in on him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked.

“It’s…a family emergency. Shit, Y/N, I have to go up North. Like right now. Do you think we can pick this up in a few days?” He wavers out nervously and clearly full of panic.

“Y-yeah, of course!” You blink rapidly at the sudden change and nod to every word without really thinking.

“Are you sure?” He questions, but he’s already standing up from the table with his backpack tight around his shoulders and his keys in his hand.

“Yes, now go!” You flee him from the house, so he can get a head-start on his drive. As his car zooms down the street, your eyes wander to the empty driveway of the house. And then it gets you wondering again.

How are you going to get to your dorm?

“Fuck,” You grumble in the evening air, the sun barely beginning to set.

You had no money on you, and of course your card wasn’t linked to your phone, so you couldn’t buy an Uber, Lyft, or anything. You creep your way back into the frat house with slugged shoulders. You drop yourself onto the small couch as silence roams around. You never in your life thought that a frat house, or any house with just guys, would be this quiet. It makes sense that they’re all out though because they’re all social butterflies trying to get laid at the latest party. Woo hoo. Sense the sarcasm?

Feeling sorry for yourself, you wander around the house. You pad the entire downstairs area before making your way up the staircase. The second you touch the top step, your curiosity starts to plague you.

Where’s Tom’s room?

Yeah, okay, maybe it’s rude, but you don’t know what to do. And, come on, it’s Tom. He doesn’t care. More specifically, you don’t care. You don’t care that you’re about to snoop his room because no one is here and it’s not like he’s going to know, right?

There’s about five bedrooms upstairs and three of the doors were open. With delicacy, you barely pushed open the doors that weren’t closed completely as if they would creak loudly and someone would find you. You peeked in a few rooms, glancing at the designs to see if you saw something that related to Tom. None of the rooms seemed fitting.

And then, like a lightbulb, you remembered that Tom was the leader, or whatever bullshit they called him. You know the title only ever gave him an ego boost. In most cases, the “leader” gets the biggest bedroom, well, at least that’s what it was like at your friend’s sorority house. So, testing your theory, you trail down the carpeted hallway until you reach the last room, which you assumed was the largest. Turning the knob, your eyes stare at the master bedroom before you.

Called it.

The room had white walls, just like the others. But Tom had a lot more personality through his decorating than you would have thought and it was…surprisingly…well-kept. Maybe it wasn’t his room.

As you stepped a foot inside, you got the hint that his favorite color was blue; navy bed sheets, baby blue desk lamp, midnight-colored nightstand, cyan desk chair, and a few other accessories that solidified the idea. Your eyes stay glued to his bed for a moment. It was a little ruffled, like he had been sleeping in it, but you knew that bed had been through more than just sleeping. You never thought you’d feel bad for a mattress and some sheets.

Before you know it, you’re traveling towards his desk, which was white (everything was very randomly assorted). You nibble on your bottom lip, debating on if it’s worth digging through the four drawers to find the one thing that’s been nagging you for months.

The list.

Something deep inside of you is warning you that searching through his belongings is a bad idea, but there’s really nothing that stops you from pulling open the first compartment. Carefully, you shift around the assortment of pens and pencils until you admit there’s nothing but those in there. Moving on to the second drawer below the first, it’s extremely heavy. Then you realize the weight is from three hefty textbooks that look completely untouched.

Makes sense.

In the next top drawer, there’s nothing useful beside clean, unused binder paper. Losing all hopes of being right, you check the final drawer. Just in case.

You didn’t know what you were going to find inside of there. But whatever you may have thought, it wasn’t this.

In the deep compartment was a bunch of clothes. Women’s clothes. A few shirts, even some socks, but mainly bras and panties. You almost touched them to sift through it, but immediately retracted your hand before doing so, assuming these articles haven’t been cleaned. Your face is frozen in disgust at the pile as if your gaze is going to burn all of it away.

“I thought it would take a lot more work to get you into my bedroom,” A deep accent says, causing you to jot and slam the drawer closed.

From your crouch, you fall to the ground, heart racing erratically at the sight of Tom. Every nerve of your body was screaming in alert because you thought you were alone. Layers of goosebumps litter your skin when you visually take in his appearance; frizzy, damp hair, dark blue briefs, and a white towel draped over his buff shoulder. You swallow every bit of your saliva and leave your mouth completely dry as your eyes shamefully trail down his entire physique.

It’s not like he’s trying to hide anything.

“It’s a bit rude to stare, yeah?” he ticks, using the towel to dry his hair a bit more. His briefs were a little tight, and you wondered if they were the wrong size. Especially from your seat on the floor, you got the perfect view of his bulge outline. Your stomach burned and your eyes couldn’t stop blinking, trying to make the image go away, but it didn’t. It was real. At this point, he’s basically just giving you a free show. You mentally hated yourself for enjoying every second of it.

Stop it. Now, how are you going to get out of this?

“What were you looking for?” Tom asks almost innocently with a lick of his pink lips, trying to hold back a little smirk. Tom liked watching you snap, but he loved when you were flustered. He loves watching you get embarrassed because you feel hot all over. It’s a sight to see.

“Something to get you arrested,” You reply just as lightly, trying to hide your startledness before awkwardly pushing yourself on your feet. You try to keep your eyes away from him, but it’s difficult when his body is practically glistening in all its chiseled glory.

“Like what? A gun?” he jokes with a charming smile, slowly striding closer to you. Your breathing staggered a tad, but you kept your composure. Mostly.

He honestly looked like he had a gun in his briefs.

He laughs.

“I hope you know it’s not a gun, princess,” That lingering smirk is plastered on his arrogant face again and you wanted to punch it off of him. You couldn’t believe yourself for thinking out loud, especially because it was the last thing you wanted him to hear. You knew it was only an ego-booster. Your entire body flushes in overwhelming heat, wondering how you’re ever going to escape his looming presence.

“I-I obviously know that’s not a gun, Thomas,” You grind your molars at your stuttering because it makes you look and sound weak. Your trembling fingers turn into heated fists that have been ignited by only one thing; your arousal.

“Thomas? That’s a new one,” While you’re stuck in place, Tom doesn’t shy away from inching closer towards you. You don’t even realize it, but you’re holding your breath. “Are you okay, Y/N? You look a bit…flushed.”

Your heart unconsciously stammers against your chest, attempting to find an outlet. But there is none. Just like there is no escape from Tom as he stands in front of you unmoving. He’s so close, impossibly so, that your pounding heart is lurching towards his.

“It’s…hot in here,” You reply with an observation. Your voice was whispering as if your voice was afraid to speak any louder. With his proximity he could probably hear every heated pump of your blood.

“Like the song,” Tom smirks because he knows the real reason why you’re all hot and bothered. It’s something deeper than the temperature of his bedroom (because it really wasn’t that warm). “You know it, right?”

“Yeah, who doesn’t?” You almost roll your eyes before you stop yourself.

“Remind me, what’s the next lyric?”

A wave of heat crashes over your neck at his words, deep and low. Your stomach was burning with desire while your clit was throbbing in your underwear. You never would have thought that you’d be turned on by Tom, but you were doing only the impossible today.

Escaping this situation has left your mind. The only thing in your head now is staying in it.

“Take off all your clothes,” A breathless sound wavers out of your throat and you’re surprised you were even able to respond. Tom’s face is smug, almost proud at how flushed you are. His hand reaches up and ever-so delicately traces over your jawline. It was so gentle, but because he was finally touching you, you nearly moaned. You’ve never needed someone so badly before, and you never thought the person you’d be needing the most would be Tom.

You keep thinking that, but it’s just so hard to comprehend the idea of anything Tom.

“Is that something you want?” Tom’s husky voice fans over your heated skin as his fingers trail down your neck. Your chest raises up and down, and even if you’re trying to fight the feeling, you can’t. Your entire body wants him–no, damn-near craves him–to the point where you can’t even speak. Your subconsciousness hates you because you know how much he is just loving this. You hate to give him such satisfaction. “D’you want to strip? Right here in front of me? Or do you want me to do it for you? Because–”

“Yes,” You whisper with your eyes facing his chest, too afraid to stare into his lust-taken eyes.

“No,” he says, and for a moment when he took a breath, you thought he’d just rejected you. “I need to hear you say it all. I need to hear you tell me what you want. Tell me how bad you want it. I bet I can give it to you. I’ve been waiting long enough.”

His words practically made you a puddle at his feet, but they also made you want to slap him with those heavy textbooks until he learned some manners. Has he really been waiting for you? Or is that just another one of his lines? One that he uses on every single girl he gets in his bed?

Your mind might have cared at any other time, but your body overruled.

“I want…” Your mind was filled with so many possibilities, it was crowding your brain. Tom’s hand that was tracing your jawline then cupped your neck gently, causing you to sigh. You couldn’t resist swallowing all of your saliva again along with your pride. Because you were about to do something really stupid. If you were in a clear mindset, this would have never happened, you’re sure of it. But common sense isn’t here to guide you right now; only desire and lust. “I want you to fuck me, Tom. Hard. Harder than you’ve ever fucked anybody before.”

“Not quite what I was looking for, but I’ll get you there.”

Tom doesn’t hesitate to wrap his hand completely around your neck while crashing his lips to yours. They mush together so sloppily, you could barely call it a kiss. But, damn, did it feel good. Fire and passion laced your lips, and it was so intoxicating that you thought you would overdose on his euphoria. Your mind couldn’t even react properly while your body was going haywire. One of your hands snaked up to the nape of his neck while the other was squeezing his naked bicep tightly.

The proximity of your bodies was about to make you pass out from a heat stroke.

In the misty moment, he leads you towards the bed. If you’d known better, you would have pushed him and told him to fuck off because he would not get to sleep with you. But you didn’t know better. Matter of fact, the only thing you knew right now was Tom Tom Tom.

When your knees hit the edge of the mattress, your body goes tumbling backwards, causing your heart to race even more than it had been. You break the kiss in a gasp, but Tom doesn’t let you fall too far, holding you securely with one hand on your waist and the other on your neck.

“Already falling for me. It’s a bit soon, yeah?” Tom flirts condescendingly with a single chuckle, standing on the edge after dropping you onto the bed. Good, you thought. You didn’t want delicacy anymore. You wanted roughness. You couldn’t allow yourself to be sweet and intimate with Tom. Not if you didn’t want to fall in love with him or get attached.

Not that that was possible.

“Fuck you.”

“I’m trying to, princess,” Even with the insult, his smirk lingers on like a tattoo. Although you despise that ridiculous nickname, your body didn’t care. When the word rolled off his tongue, your stomach erupted in needy desire and your cunt clenched around nothing. Tom isn’t new to a woman’s arousal. He knows when someone is turned on. It appears in their voice, their body obviously, but always in their eyes. And that lust was laced within you: in your voice, body, and eyes.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” he taunts, hovering over your trembling body while your mind still tries to come to terms with what the fuck is happening.

“Of course not,” You grumble, but it comes out all quiet.

“Keep tellin’ yourself that. Maybe you’ll be surprised,” he infamously winks before traveling down your neck in harsh kisses. You try to withhold the whimpers he’s causing because it's impossible with the amount of pleasure you’re feeling.

Kneeling on both sides of you, Tom’s hands weave their way under your top, exploring your torso mindlessly. His palms are heavy and rough, the only type you wanted to feel when it came to him. You were wearing a simple bralette that you would feel his fingers trace over impatiently.

“Take it off,” You moaned when he nimbled a bit hard behind your ear. You felt him breathe a chuckle, and you just knew he was smirking. As per usual.

“That’s not very nice,” Tom tsks, halting all his movements and hovering over your flushed face. You were in a daze and he hasn’t even done anything yet. Your core was on fire waiting desperately to be taken care of by the so-called “sex god.”

“I didn’t want it to be,” Grumbling, you grind on your teeth again in impatience. “This was a mistake–”

In complete irritation, despite your body’s desires, you force yourself to sit up. However, Tom does not let that slide. Within seconds your arms are being pinned above your head and he is straddling your hips snuggly. There was no escaping him.

In this position, you could feel his bulge barely pressing against your lower tummy. The thickness nearly made you moan because you were so desperate for it, but God knows you would never get on your knees and beg for it. That’s the last thing you’ll ever do, especially for someone like Tom.

“Slow down there, princess. We haven’t even started yet, and you’re already trying to do the walk of shame.”

“Because you’re being an asshole!”

“I just wanted you to say please, princess,” Tom says innocently, but the most devilish smile rises upon his lips. It’s cruel how contradicting the two are, but you loved it. It spiraled you on even more. “Now, I don’t really care what you say.”

Following his word, Tom didn’t listen to a single word you said. Even though they only consisted of calling him a dickhead, asshole, and fucker, but that’s not the point. Before you know it, your clothes are stripped completely from you and you’re basically in the same predicament as Tom. He clips off your bralette and hastily rips it from your body, tossing it to some unknown place on his surprisingly well-kept floor.

Your breath hinges at the new vulnerability. Tom licks his lips lustfully at the sight of your near-naked body, but doesn’t say anything. No two-cented comment or some witted joke. Nope. Nothing. Something inside of you tingled.

His aggressive hands roughly massaged your breasts. He twisted and flicked your nipples with no care in the world, and that’s just how you liked it. You released a breathy moan when your nipples reached their peak, but he didn’t stop his miniature torture. Mindlessly, you bucked your hips up, right into him.

“Getting off just from some nipple play? God, you must be desperate,” Tom dryly chuckles.

“Shut up,” You groan when his mouth latches onto your raw nipple, intensifying the pain and pleasure that’s firing up in your body.

Tom’s wandering tongue finally makes it down to your underwear, which is soaked through with your arousal. You’re embarrassed to discover his reaction because you know it’s only going to make him even more air-headed than he already is. Your legs are tightly closed, but you widen them just a tad more. Tom isn’t having it.

“Open. I want to see what I do to you.”

You swear your heart skipped a beat because you nearly fucking died right there. Annoyingly obeying him, you open your legs more, giving him more access to your vulnerability. Also, giving him more ammunition to use to make fun of you. You knew for a fact that you would regret all of this in the future, but right now, for some fucking reason, you didn’t give a damn.

“Fuck,” Tom growled so low that you almost didn’t hear him. His face was now so close to you that you could practically feel his grumble vibrate through your thighs and straight to your cunt. “This is what I do to you? This whole time? And you’ve been running away…how selfish of you. To keep this from me.”

“I’m selfish? You are definitely the last person that’s–” The power of your words are cut short when he slides down your panties without hesitation. “–able to say that.”

“How about you stop saying stuff and let me get on with it?”

“Oh, please! Like I’m the one that’s stopping you.”

“Look who learned how to say please,” he smirks, hands prying open your thighs even wider than before. You inhale sharply as your cunt opens completely for him, dripping in your arousal. “Now, shut the fuck up unless you’re crying my name. Got it, princess?”

In the midst of an eyeroll, Tom places his mouth onto your clit. Places might be the wrong word. He latched his mouth hungrily onto you, like he would starve if he didn’t have you right now. Your eyes squeeze shut in shock, trying to decipher the incredible feeling of his mouth on you. Slurping and licking, Tom devours you whole and you can’t stop your body from squirming all over the place from the overwhelming euphoria.

To make you even more insane and to make you lose a bit more of your brain cells, Tom slyly slips one of his fingers in your cunt. It was undeniably soaking, so he slid it in easily. His pace is rigorous, thrusting in and out while sucking harshly on your clit.

Like Tom had requested, you were moaning. At first, it was just a few noises, but then, it turned into his name. The only word you seemed to know was Tom as you wailed and cried from his attack on your cunt. Even as your hips bucked into his face, he held you securely down with his forearm and continued to ram into you until you eventually came.

When you came, it was like you were hit by a freight train. Your orgasm slammed over you so powerfully that you saw stars for a moment. Oh, and you squirted, which you’ve never done before. Your wetness dripped down Tom’s face, and it was kind of funny to you, even if you felt a little bad about it (not really). But Tom had that tattooed-smirk on his face that let you know he was enjoying himself too much. Conceited as always.

“Didn’t know you were a squirter,” Tom wipes away your orgasm with his shower towel while your entire face goes hot again.

“Neither did I.”

“First time? What a pleasure.”

“Oh, shut up,” You roll your eyes, forgetting that he actually likes that. He smiles, but hides it with a smirk. Then Tom pulls down his tight briefs. Looking at his equipment, you nearly choked. It was thick and veiny, and the tip was an angry pink.

You wanted him inside of you, but if this was going to be the only time you do this, might as well get your fill.

“Actually,” You start, heart thumping rapidly. “Can I…”

You didn’t even really ask, you just slowly lowered yourself onto the floor. Tom didn’t stop you, just watched as you kneeled. Your eyes flickered from his eyes to his cock, waiting for him to terminate your movements.

“I’d never say no to a blowjob, princess.”

Rolling your eyes, your warm fingertips rub over his leaking slit. He hisses at the sudden contact, but moans gutturally when your tongue touches him. You lick up his shaft, soaking the entire surface with your saliva. Tom’s hefty hands find themselves tangled in your hair, using it for balance.

Once you take him deeper into your mouth, the urge to pump himself down your throat gets tougher. You hollow out your cheeks, slurping up and down until your face is burning. With confidence, you push him lower down your throat until you gag around his length.

“Fuck, you take me so well,” he groans, his sounds echoing on his blue walls. His stomach contracts, abs tensing as he senses his high approaching.

A few tears twinkle in your eyes, and to kill Tom even more, you decide to stare up at him through your lashes. Your expression appears innocent, but he knows you’re anything but with the way you’re taking his cock amazingly.

When Tom can’t restrain himself anymore, his hips start bucking into your face. He feels you moan against him even if he caught you off guard, sending a wave of vibration through his whole body euphorically. His grip on your hair tightens while the tears that were brimming your eyes start to fall down like a waterfall.

The picture of you crying while his cock was shoved down your throat was enough to get him off through the rest of college. Maybe even the rest of his 20s. You wanted it rough, and you took him like a champ.

With your fingernails digging into his thighs, Tom was sure to come soon. And in the next few moments, he did. He was so blindsided that he didn’t warn you, didn’t tell you to get off of him so you didn’t choke on his cum. But then, you swallowed him without any hesitation.

Tom was nearly hard again because of it.

His remaining orgasm leaked from the corners of your lips, which you wiped away with the towel on the bed. Tom was trying to not appear dumbstruck while you were trying to rid the tears from your face, even though you were almost positive that Tom got off on them.

You had done a lot of blowjobs and deepthroating throughout your college years because again, men aren’t too nice or generous. You just so happen to be both.

As you stand up from the ground, Tom doesn’t wait to push you onto the mattress again.

“That was…” he starts before groaning quietly. Was he reliving it? “I need to be deep inside of your cunt.”

You blinked at the suddenness of his words. He couldn’t give you a single compliment? At this point, you weren’t going to waste anymore time fighting about it. Looking at his cock, he was basically hard again. That seemed like a compliment in itself. His angry tip and thick veins looked like if he knew how to use his dick, it could potentially destroy you. Isn’t that what you wanted, though?

Hell yes.

“Get on with it then,” You pressed, trying to widen your legs a bit more. After your first orgasm and Tom’s, you’re not as shaky as you’d been in the beginning. You got some of your wits back.

“Impatient much? Didn’t the palace ever teach you manners?” Tom jokes with a knowing smirk before hovering over you. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes irritatingly at his extra comment. His cock thumped over your clit a few times, causing you to gasp at the weighted feeling. You didn’t even know he had put a condom on, but the texture of his cock felt like latex, so you assumed.

Even though you told him to get on with it, he doesn’t. Tom’s lips kiss and bite your neck while he continuously slaps your clit with his heavy cock. Whimpers elicited from your mouth at the friction; it wasn’t a lot, but you were still sensitive from your last orgasm. Every time his dick hit the hood of your clit, shots of electricity fired inside of you.

“T-Tom!” You shouted annoyed, attempting to get his attention. But of course, your voice came out as a wavering moan and you saw his ego fly into the sky like a rocket. You can never win, can you? “Can you just fuck me already? What’s with all the foreplay?”

“Can you just shut the fuck up?” Tom stops all of his movements and grasps your throat in his hand. You glare into his blackened-eyes with an angered lust that he’s never seen before. But he likes it. He really likes it. “I’ll fuck you. Yeah, and I’ll keep fucking you until I’m done.”

His last words come out as a growl, one that was so primal and aggressive, you couldn’t stop the arousal that leaked from you. Finally, Tom pushes himself inside of you with no mercy.

Tom’s fingers are still wrapped around your throat, his pressure on and off so you get a millisecond to breathe. His cock slams into you at a meticulous and quick pace. Even with the condom on, you can feel every inch of his length sliding through you like it was raw.

You couldn’t even imagine how good it would feel if it was raw.

With no warning, Tom begins to flick his hips up into you. A broken croak elicits from your trapped throat while your cunt squeezes his cock harshly.

“Fuckin’ love this, aren’t you? Love how I fuck you? Love how I talk to you like you’re nothing?” His voice is guttural and low, laced with lust and degradation. “You’re just a hole f’me. A hole so fucking tight I can barely get my big cock through.”

You hate how egotistical he is, but your core is still on fire with every one of his words. He releases pressure on your throat for a bit longer, and you cry out in moans. His now free hand gropes your breast, slapping and twisting the nipple without care. Your back arched so aggressively, you thought you might cramp up.

Tom rammed into you like there was no tomorrow. His balls slammed against you while his light pubic hair tickled your clit and gave you just a bit more stimulation. Everything was making you float. Your body was just taking everything he was giving you and you were loving it. All the other times you’ve had sex they were gentle and sweet, but now, you’ve realized that it was just boring.

Tom somehow manages to curve his cock inside of you in such a way that it hits you in the perfect spot. A scream of his name flies out of your mouth before you clench snuggly around his shaft again. His name is the only thing your lips know.

“Daddy! Fuck,” You gasp at your own words, the title just slipping out. Your hand covers your mouth in a haste, shutting yourself up before you say anything else. Your eyes screw shut in embarrassment, hoping he didn’t hear you. But it was hard not to when you fucking screamed it. The neighbors probably heard you.

When you got too deep into it, you tended to say things like that. However, you’re usually able to compose yourself before you let it slip. But the way Tom is absolutely destroying you gives you no time to think, no time to do anything but feel.

“Of course, you’re fucking filthy. If I knew you were such a slut, I would’ve made you beg for my cock,” Tom growls in your neck, pounding into you with no remorse. Your mind is in a haze and your body is still on fire from embarrassment and passion. You tried your hardest to hold in your moans after satisfying him with that title, but Tom won’t let you.

He rips your hand away from your mouth, and for leverage, you instantly grip onto his shoulders. With each hostile thrust, your nails dig deeper into his skin, creating red curves all over him. Somewhere inside of you felt a sense of pride because you know that there will be marks later on. Is this what Tom feels like all the time?

Your cunt clutches his dick again, but this time your orgasm is near. Your hand travels down in between you two to rub your clit, but Tom beats you to it. His rough fingertips violently circle the little nub, sending your eyes rolling backwards. When you feel his pace slowing just a tad, you assume that he’s just as close.

“Daddy,” You mewl, scratching his arm as your hips thrust up towards his. Yeah, you were pretty deep.

But so was he.

“Know you’re close, baby. Feel you squeezin’ m’cock,” Tom grumbles gravely in your ear, and his voice sends a tingle down your arched spine. Although it was rough and raggedy, it was the softest he’s been to you all night. “Come, right fucking now, princess.”

Yeah, you might despise him outside of the bedroom, and maybe a little bit in it, but who are you to disobey such a thing?

Your entire body tenses and your heart stops. You don’t even feel yourself breathing as your orgasm washes over you like a never-ending tsunami. Your brain is overwhelmingly fuzzy, your breasts are sore, and your cunt is aching from all it. But you loved every bit of it. It was something you didn’t know you wanted, but when you got it, it changed your views and feelings on everything.

Sliding in and out of you slickly, Tom comes soon after you with a string of profanities falling from his pretty lips. Even if he was conceited, he was a striking man. His body was hand-crafted by God in addition to going to the gym every day. When his muscles contracted over you, you couldn’t stop fawning over him. And his face was remarkable, it was unfair how someone could be given so many good social-standard genes. You wished you could say it was all a rumor. But it was hard to insult his looks when everything he gloated about was true. It was just annoying that he was aware of it.

Funny, right?

“Y/N,” Tom repeated your name over you, hoping you would wake up in the present moment. You were clearly in your head and Tom was a little concerned to say the least. Maybe he sleeps with a bunch of different women and maybe he’s arrogant, but that doesn’t mean he’s heartless.

Blinking several times, you snap out of whatever mindless daze you’ve been in. He’d already thrown away the condom and put on some boxers, not briefs. He gently wiped any excess orgasm away with his towel, your body subtly squirming from the stimulation. When Tom finally sees you coming to your senses, he slowly leans away from you, assuming you want space.

“Wait,” You find yourself saying without knowing what you want him to wait for. When his body rose from yours, you felt cold. It was so uncomforting, knowing that you’ve been so warm this entire time. Tom stares down at your naked body and watches goosebumps fan your skin. Your nipples pebble and stomach contracts. You feel so vulnerable.

“What?” Tom asks a little breathily, one arm holding himself up for balance. He couldn’t really say anything else. For the first time in a while, he’s completely starstruck by you. Your bare figure with your lion-like frizz of hair on his bed, tangled in his blue sheets is a sight he’ll never unsee. He honestly thinks he needs a moment to collect himself before staring at your beauty again.

Have you always been this beautiful?

“It’s…cold.”

“Now, it’s cold? I’m not the weatherman, princess,” Tom smiles like a child with a slight tilt. Your eyes roll like usual, but a smile is tugging at your lips this time. “Maybe you should put some clothes on.”

“Maybe you should shut up,” You retaliate, pushing yourself up. You’re face to face with Tom, merely inches away from each other.

“I love when you fight me,” he compliments, moving his head in little shakes like he adores you. Your heart skipped a beat at his words.

“Why? Because I put you in your place?”

“Something like that,” Tom sits next to you on the bed while you wrap yourself in his sheets. You really didn’t feel like wandering around the entire room completely naked with his eyes watching you. “Also, what were you looking for earlier? I know it wasn’t a gun.”

That familiar wave of heat flushes your skin and your mouth gets all dry. Are you sweating?

“Pfft, I don’t even remember. Must have slipped my mind,” Out of all the things you could have said, you decided to act stupid. Good going.

“C’mon, it can’t be that bad. I’ve probably heard worse,” Your wide eyes meet his, full of embarrassment. “Yeah, I’m assuming it’s some rumor thing you heard, right?”

“Yeah…”

“Tell me.” You’ve already had sex with him, and that’s the lowest you could go. So, it can’t be worse than that.

“I was looking for the list.”

“Not even a list but the list? Must be some pretty special list,” he smirks with an arrogant lick of his lips. One of your hands rubs your arm for comfort while you explain the entirety of what you’ve heard. It took a few minutes, but Tom was listening to every word. He nodded along with a sly smirk on his lips.

“So, it’s a list of all the people I want to sleep with. Is this list in order?” Out of all the questions he could have asked, that’s what he said? Maybe he is completely conceited.

“I guess so. I assumed you could rearrange it if you’d like.”

“Are the women rated?”

“What? That’s disgusting!” Physically writing down how well someone was at sex was pathetic to you. But the curious cat in your mind was wondering one thing:

What would Tom rate you?

“Well, if I had a list, you’d probably be near the top.”

There is no fucking way you said that out loud.

“You did, though,” Tom laughs while your fists clench his sheets embarrassingly. You fall backwards onto the mattress, covering your face with the bedding.

Why are you still in his room? Why have you not felt the urge to flee yet?

Your skin was burning from embarrassment and your heart was beating sporadically, but your breathing was steady and your mind was decently clear. So, why were you still lying in Tom Holland’s bed naked without a single thought of leaving? Did you…like it?

Or maybe because you have no way home and what’s the rush?

“Hey,” Tom says while you’re still beneath the covers. “Are you still cold?”

“Yes,” You mumble quietly.

“Do you…want to take a bath? Or a shower if that’s weird–” Your head slowly peeks out from the navy blue, finding Tom’s wandering eyes. His large hand was scratching the back of his curly head. A single tingle shot through your body, making you a degree warmer. It was the first time you’ve seen him even a little bit unsure of himself, and that made you smile. Just a tad because it let you know that maybe you’ve made him snap out of whatever bubble he lives in. Even just for a moment.

Discarding the sheet, you sit up on your knees at the edge of the bed. Like before, you’re face to face with Tom, and you can see the struggle in his eyes to not look down at your bare breasts. It nearly makes you break out into a fit of laughter, but you carry on.

“I’ll go with the bath,” You whisper seductively and don’t hide the way you stare down at his pink lips. You couldn’t help it. They just look so kissable.

What is wrong with you!

“I’ll, uh, leave you to it then,” Tom coughs awkwardly. He’s never been like this before. He’s good with the flirting, seducing, foreplay, sex, and even the aftermath of leaving right after. But the second it even gets remotely romantic or intimate, he shuts it down quickly before anything else can happen. Though right now, he’s the one who made it sweet and offered you a bath. A bath is cute and domestic, which is so unlike Tom. He would have never offered something like that before, especially with no one home. He should’ve just kicked you out.

What’s different?

“Oh,” You look at the floor in pretend disappointment. Just to note, you’re still completely naked, standing in front of his bathroom door. You’re so glad he has his own bathroom. “You don’t want to join me?”

Tom blinks, wondering if you’re being serious. He never thought you out of all people would want to have sex in the bathtub, let alone with him. He swallows, trying to keep his cool.

“Yeah, obviously, I was just letting you get a headstart,” Tom rapidly removes his boxers while you strut into the bathroom, shaking your ass in your trail. Streaks of curses leave his mouth while he slams the door closed, not forgetting to lock it.

For the record, the rumor was true; Tom did have a list. It was in a spot he knew no one would check; his textbooks in his desk drawer. A single sheet of paper that has a list of the girls he’s been with and the ones he wants to be with. It’s crazy how such a rumor was developed when no one knew about the list except for himself.

Yes, it was listed in order and he reorganized it whenever he needed to. That’s what erasers are for. He writes it in pencil because nothing is set in stone. It’s honestly hard for him to remember who’s in his top five right now. Yeah, Tom sounds like a complete douchebag, but he didn’t really care.

Tom said that your name would be “near the top” if he had a list. What a liar he is.

Ever since he met you, you’ve been the first on his list. You’re the only name that hasn’t been erased since he wrote it his junior year. Also, you’re the only person who has a little note on the side of her name:

1. Y/N Y/L/N -The one

Tom had a feeling that he won’t have to write any names down, or even need the paper anymore. Even if he never had a list to begin with, he would have never needed one to remember you.

—

i hope you guys liked this i worked hard!! likes, comments, and reblogs are all appreciated <3

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