"Love Me Dead- Ludo" Part Two

I have a question for guys. does sticking that shit in peanut butter feel good or smth? like what tf is going on with your dicks. I need an explanation to this.

Hii❤️could you do something with Simon from twd where he babysits negan's daughter she's about 5 or 6 and she falls down and she hurts her keen and Simon is just so sweet with her

Thank you!

This one is on it's way!

"Broken A/C" p. hockstetter Oneshot

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“Admit it, you totally wanna blow me.” 

“I totally do not.” Y/N scoffed and adjusted her crossed arms, leaning back farther on the cold counter. It was the middle of the night and 82 degrees in Derry, and the air conditioning at her house had broken down from overuse.

Her dad, being the man he is, suggested they stayed at his friend’s house. Y/N didn’t remember her name, but her father told her to call her Mrs. Hockstetter. 

Y/N’s only objective was to get out of her awful hot house, so she agreed and packed a bag. She packed short shorts, a couple tank tops, a sketchbook, and her homework into a bag.

She thought she’d spend the night on Mrs. Hockstetter’s hopefully cold couch, but what her father had failed to mention was that she had a son Y/N’s age.

She was introduced to him when she and her father got into the house, and she wasn’t a big fan of his lingering gaze on her chest. She eventually stopped caring when she was greeted by the wonderful arms of air conditioning.

She had set up camp on the couch while her father and Mrs. Hockstetter talked to each other in the master bedroom, and while Patrick was up in his room doing only God knows what.

Y/N was sketching a bird in her notebook on the couch when she heard an odd thunk from the walls, and when she heard the air conditioning turn off.

Groaning, she rolled onto her stomach and shoved her face into the cushion, the immediate rush of hot air hitting her back. She threw her notebook off the couch and sat up before reaching into her bag and pulling out her short shorts and a white tank top.

She stood up and made her way to the upstairs bathroom to change when she heard noises coming from Patrick’s room. His head lights were off, but there was a small glow that emitted from underneath the door. She tilted her head and tried to be more silent as to hear what he was doing when she heard a very low and raspy “fuck” come from him.

Realizing what he was doing, she turned around quickly and went into the bathroom, softly closing the door and shaking her head. She changed into the clothes when she realized that she had grabbed her old tank top that she wore as a kid that no longer fit her, and that she had also grown out of the shorts.

They were supposed to be shorter than most, but they definitely weren’t supposed to show the underside of her ass. Y/N tried pulling them down to make them less revealing, but she gave up and accepted the fact that they rode up when she walked. 

She left the bathroom and was going to walk down the stairs when she saw that Patrick’s door was open and that he was no longer in there. Thinking nothing of it, she went down the stairs and back into the living room when she saw him looking through her sketchbook. She froze, and he noticed she was standing in front of him and grinned.

“I’m guessing birds are your favorite animal?” Patrick mocked, flipping the book around to reveal her recent drawing.

“Set it down, Patrick.” She sighed, and let out a breath of relief when he did. What made her tense again was when he walked into the kitchen that was conjoined with the living room and opened a cupboard to grab a glass.

She watched as he turned on the sink faucet and filled the cup to the brim before he steadily walked back to her and held it out for her.

“Thirsty?” He grinned, his gaze burning her as she licked her dry lips.

“A bit…” Y/N admitted and grabbed the glass, confused as to why he didn’t let go as well. She gasped loudly when he tilted it towards her and spilled some of it on her shirt, cursing him out as she walked into the kitchen to grab a towel.

He watched her wipe her chest off with the useless piece of fabric, and grinned even more when she realized it was doing nothing to absorb the water. 

She didn’t wear a bra as her tank top was too tight for one, and now her entire chest was revealed to a guy she barely knew at all. She groaned and threw the towel onto the counter, crossing her arms to keep at least a bit of her dignity.

She refused to look Patrick in the eyes, too embarrassed that she didn’t have anything to cover up and that she let a mistake like this happen. The guy in question frowned and walked towards her, leaning on the opposite counter that she was so that they stood in front of each other.

“Aw, ya shy?” He taunted, snickering at her face of disgust. 

“No, I’m mortified. You just spilled water all over me and made me flash you.” She deadpanned, unimpressed with his actions. 

“Not my fault you dressed like a whore.” Patrick only shrugged and let his eyes roam the rest of her body, from her head to her well manicured toes. “Cute nipple piercings, by the way. I really like the hearts.”

“Shut the fuck up.” Y/N sneered, readjusting her arms so that they covered more.

“D’ya want my shirt? It might make you less…cold.” He teased, watching her face turn bright red. Y/N rolled her eyes as he taunted her more and more.

That was how they got into their positions now, with her in his lap making out with him in the hot, thick aired living on the couch. His hands roamed over her torso, and hers grabbed onto the hair behind his head.

Patrick groaned when she tugged a bit too hard, and he bit her lip and grinded her hips down onto him as a response. She winced with a gasp and pulled away to catch her breath, his hands still moving her back and forth. He showed her the same devilish grin he had earlier in the night, and then the lights came on.

“Patrick!” “Y/N!” 

“Dammit!” “Dad!”

"Inserparable" Part Two

Y/N ended up staying the night at Patrick’s, mostly because he didn’t want to tell her anything and because she didn’t trust him enough to be alone. She looked at the clock, and it was just passed midnight. Sighing, she looked over at Patrick, who was drooling and hugging a stained pillow. She tilted her head, questioning the white stain near his chin. Y/N started playing with her fingers, picking at her nails. She was lost in her thoughts, up until Patrick started twitching.

“Patrick?” She whispered, sitting up straighter to watch him closer. Patrick started whining, his face pulling into a deep frown. He started muttering “no” and “stop”, and Y/N started to worry more. She tried to shake him awake, but he wouldn’t budge.

When Patrick eventually woke up, he was shaking and saying he didn’t want to go back to sleep, pleading that she stayed up with him. Y/N had never seen him like this, ever, and was deeply concerned. He kept saying how it was real. How all of it was.

She was shocked by this and kept asking what he meant, to which he couldn’t respond. Patrick said how he didn’t want to speak its name, how it would find him if he did. Y/N was very confused, and she didn’t know what to do. He was holding onto her waist as she played with his hair, hoping it was calming him down enough. She noticed he fell back asleep, and she used the blanket to replace her body as she stood up off the bed. Y/N started to make her way to his landline, dialing a number and watching Patrick while she waited.

“Huh?” A tired voice said, sounding like they just woke up. 

“Hey, Nicole. Sorry, did I wake you up?” She asked, biting her lip. Y/N didn’t know why she was so scared, she talked to her friend many times about Patrick. 

“Nah, you’re good. I was just watching The Outsiders, getting wet over Ponyboy and all that. What’d’ja need?”  Y/N shook her head at Nicole’s response, laughing lightly. 

“I found Patrick. He was running around in the sewage system. I don’t know what happened, but whatever it was, it scared him. Badly. He’s having nightmares now.” Y/N told Nicole, fiddling with the phone wire. 

“Damn, that sounds awful,” Nicole yawned, smacking her lips obnoxiously. “What’s his nightmare about?”

“I don’t know, obviously something bad. He mumbled something about a clown though, and a balloon?” Y/N waited for Nicole’s response, but the other end was silent. “Nicole?”

“What? Oh, yeah. So a clown, huh? Did he, I don’t know, happen to give a description? Or like, say what it looked like?” Nicole asked, clearing her throat after. 

“No, he didn’t. Why? Do you know something?” 

“No! Nope, noda. No, I uh, I do not. Was just curious, that’s all. Look, I love our late night chit-chats, but I’ve gotta be somewhere tomorrow. So, uh. Night!” And with that Nicole hung up.

Y/N got even more confused. Why was Nicole acting this way? Maybe she knew something Y/N didn’t. It didn’t matter now, anyway. It’ll be her problem in the morning. For now, Y/N just needs a good night’s rest. 

"fuckass picture" t. todoroki mha smau

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Summary: apparently eraserhead patrols the neighborhood near your hideout?? 😨

Warnings: Vulgar language, mention of smoking

A/N: somebody needs to fucking sedate me. one-sided eraserdust has my heart idc.

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"fine asf" t. todoroki mha smau

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Summary: You think a pro-hero is hot⁉️⁉️

Warnings: minimal vulgar language, spinner is a master of the art of stalking

A/N: here we go again

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Hi. I was wondering if you were still writing for George Foyet? If so could you possibly write about him targeting the reader but when he goes to kill her he has this odd attraction to her and takes her and they fall in love. Could be a little angsty with some reaper torture but ends in fluff

Hey babes, I'll be happy too! I'm thinking about making this one into a bit of a story, and since I write in bulk it might take a hot minute. Just know that this one is on it's way! (I'll always write for Foyet, he's so fine 🤭)

"Inseparable" Part Eight

“What the actual fuck, Penny!” Nicole screamed, throwing her arms into the air. A tall, somber clown was staring at the floor, shifting on Its feet from time to time. “You’ve done a lot of shit that I’ve dismissed, but this is something I won’t!”

Y/N sat on a dirty wooden crate, watching her best friend shout at It. Nicole put her hands on her face and turned around, continuing to degrade It. Pennywise slightly looked up and made eye contact with Y/N, glaring at her with It’s blue eyes. She shivered and looked away, gasping when she heard a jingle of bells and seeing he was gone. Nicole groaned loudly and kicked one of the rocks on the floor.

“Are you fucking kidding me!”

"Mr. Mechanic" p. hockstetter Oneshot

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Summary (Smut): What was supposed to be a fun field trip for you and Bower's gang turned into standing on the side of the road when the car breaks down. What could possibly happen between you and Patrick on this simple little trip?

Warnings: Vulgar language, oral (male receiving)

A/N: I'm at my breaking point too, Patrick, don't worry. I don't know shit about cars.

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“God, it is so fucking hot. Like, my hypothetical balls are sweating.” You said, sitting on the trunk of Belch’s car while fanning yourself with your hand. 

You and the Bower’s gang were heading towards Buxton, Maine, on a simple field trip. There was a popular street fair happening that you mentioned to the group, and you somehow convinced them all to go.

After much begging, and accidentally giving Patrick a hard-on because of it, you were all able to go. Splitting the hotel bill was easy, since it was your idea, you and Henry decided to split it together.

With his father being the sheriff, it was rather easy to get a discount from him. All you guys needed to do was drive up there and check in.

 So here you five were, on the side of the road because Belch’s car broke down halfway through the trip.

“Fucking piece of shit car.” You heard Henry murmur to your left and you sighed. You were leaning back, kicking your feet off the edge before an idea came to you.

“Hey, Vic?” You stretch out his name in a sing-song way and tilt your head sweetly with a smile, watching him and Patrick look up from their spots on the street curb and squint at you.

“What?” Unfortunately, he doesn’t respond with the same energy.

“You should totally go get the map from the car and find restaurants near here.” Your smile never falls and you playfully bat your eyelashes at him.

Vic looks unimpressed with your supposed flirting skills, and he stands up and walks himself to the car, jumping in and pulling out the map. 

“Thank you, Vic.” You beamed and he let out a sound of acknowledgement. 

To your left, Henry was playing with his switchblade on the trunk with you, a very bored expression on his face. On the curb, Patrick was watching cars speed by and messing with his lighter between his fingers.

You watch his hands as they skillfully flick open the lid, spark a flame, spin it around his slender fingers, close it, and repeat.

It was entrancing. The way the flame would move with his fingers, the way it somehow never got caught on his rings.

You liked it when he played with his lighter because there was just something so hypnotizing about it. 

His fingers had a couple burn scars on them and some normal scars on his pale hands, a couple of calluses. What you liked most though, was how long they were. 

How he had such good control over them, how they seemed to know when to move and how to move. How they would drag against your jaw, down your neck, wrap around your throat. How they would grab at all the right places, how they would pull up your skirts with such ease, how they would pull down your underwear so roughly. How they would tease you, carefully work their way into you, and curl themselves at just the right spot-

“There’s an ice cream shop just up the road.” You jump out of your thoughts and notice how Patrick’s fingers stopped, his blue eyes staring straight into yours with raised brows. Clearing your throat, you look away and turn around to look at Vic.

“Where?”

–

Vic, Patrick, and you all went up to the shop, letting Henry and Belch handle the car. The ice cream place was cold, and it felt amazing to all three of you. After ordering, you guys settled down at a booth to enjoy the air conditioning a little longer. 

“How long d’you think it’s gonna take?” Patrick asked from your right, his left arm strewn across the back of the booth behind your head. 

“A long ass time,” Vic snorted across from you, crossing his arms. His head was leaned back and his eyes were closed. “Belch may love his car, but he doesn’t know shit about it.”

Patrick snickered and looked out the window, watching people pass by the place. You hummed in agreement and watched people walk into the store and order.

It was silent, and the three of you were enjoying it for a bit. That was, until, some old lady got her ice cream and said something to her husband while leaving.

“Poor boy, having to third-wheel a date must be so tough.” She shook her head and her husband nodded.

Vic’s head shot up from its resting position and he stared at them while they left before looking at you two. You covered your mouth to try to hold in your laugh, letting a few giggles escape. Patrick wasn’t, though, and he laid his head on the edge of the table and was shaking and hollering. 

“Yeah, no. We’re fucking leaving.”

–

You three walked back, Vic pouting and walking in front of you the whole time, and were all now sitting somewhere around the car eating your ice cream. Belch was in the front seat eating rocky road, and Henry was on the trunk again eating vanilla. Vic was laying across the back seats and eating strawberry, and you and Patrick were both on the curb, him eating mint chocolate chip and you eating chocolate chip cookie dough. 

The both of you watched as a van sped past you, and you barely got to see the logo on its side.

“MARGO’S JUNK CARS”

Your eyebrows furrowed as a memory of Patrick telling you something crossed your mind. You gasped and swiftly turned your head to look at him, your left hand grabbing his bicep. He was already looking at you, a confused look on his face.

“Patrick Hockstetter!” You hissed quietly at him, “You know how to fix junk cars!”

He licked his lips before the corners curled up. “Mhm hm.”

“So fix the fucking car!” Disbelievement crossed your eyes and you scoffed.

Months ago, you and him were getting high in your basement when you had wanted to play ‘Two Truths and a Lie.’ It was his turn, and he gave you your choices. 

–

“There’s something in the forest nobody knows about but me. I lost my virginity at 12, and when I have nothing to do in my day, I work on cars.”

“Hmm. This is hard.”

“Yup.”

“Woah, wait. You, mister, lost your virginity at 11.”

“I did, yeah.”

“You work on cars?”

“Shut up and give me the joint, would’ya?”

“...”

“That’s kind of hot…”

“Is it?”

"Mhm. So, what's in the forest?"

–

“It’s his car, not mine.” Patrick replied, finishing the last of his dessert. 

Sighing, you pick your spoon around at your own sweet treat. “If you fix his car, and if we get a private room at the hotel, I’ll give you a blowjob.”

Patrick snaps his head over to make eye contact with you, and you stick your tongue out, put your spoon on it, and suck off the ice cream while giving him the best doe eyes you possibly can.

He stares and licks his lips again, deciding if he wants to think with his head or his dick. 

His dick always wins, though.

Patrick set his ice cream cup down and took off his black flannel shirt. It was your turn to stare, more specifically at his arms. He had a white wife-beater underneath, and his arms flexed while he handed the flannel to you.

Patrick stood up and grabbed at the hair tie you gave him a while ago on his wrist and he put his hair up. You marveled at the veins that ran up his forearms and crossed your legs, hoping he didn’t notice you clenching your thighs.

He did though, in the corner of his eyes, and his mouth twisted into a lopsided grin. Embarrassed, you looked away with a not-so-subtle blush on your face. 

Patrick started walking towards the hood of the car, and he slapped his hand on the driver's side door, startling Belch.

“Maybe if you’d pop the fucking trunk, you’d be able to see what’s wrong with it.”

–

After about 15 minutes of Henry complaining about how hot it is, Vic and you talking about what you hope to find at the street fair, and Patrick and Belch looking at the car, Patrick came to the conclusion that an oil change was needed, and that some random part needed to be changed.

You weren’t listening all that much to him though, focusing on Vic’s voice instead. You knew if you looked at Patrick, you wouldn’t be able to take your eyes away from him. 

Him and Belch went to go find some convenience store nearby, and you, Vic, and Henry found some cards in the backseat and decided to play some blackjack. 

When they came back with the motor oil, a bucket, and a new part for the hood, you all watched as Patrick got under the car to remove the current oil. Belch got to work on the front with a wrench, and the other two guys went to chat with him about what needed to be fixed and whatnot.

You sat on the curb again, leaned back on your hands, legs crossed in front of you, biting your lip while Patrick laid under the car and waited for the bucket to fill. 

You watched his face as his eyes followed the oil, his eyebrows scrunched together, hands resting on his chest, one leg propped up and the other straight. He blinked, and then his eyes were trained on yours, only this time, you didn’t look away.

The two of you stared at each other, admiring each other shamelessly. Your eyes roamed over his arms, his tank top that was soaked through with sweat. Down his lean torso, following where his shirt was slightly lifted up to show off his dark happy trail, right before it stopped at his jeans.

In your right hand, your fingers fisted around the flannel he tossed at you earlier, and you rubbed your thighs together to relieve at least a small ounce of friction. Patrick simpered, his canines showing against his lips, and continued to focus on the oil change. 

When he was done, he stood up and wiped away the sweat on his forehead. Grease and dirt littered all over his face, which unfortunately only added to the problem between your legs. 

“Why the hell isn’t this tightening?” Belch bellowed, catching both of your attention. 

“Lemme take a look.” Patrick winked at you before going to check it out, and you rolled your eyes playfully, standing up to follow him.

“Well, maybe if you’d twist it in the right direction, it’d fucking tighten.” He sneered, putting his arm on the edge of the hood while tightening the new mechanic piece.

Belch clicked his tongue and crossed his arms, and all of you watched Patrick work. Well, they were watching the new piece get put in, you were watching the way his biceps flexed and the way his veins popped behind the skin of his hands.

“Try the engine.” Patrick stepped back and popped the hood down, wiping his forehead once again with the back of the hand holding the wrench.

Belch did what he said, and they all cheered when the engine started. The five of you all got back into the car, Henry in the passenger seat, Vic to the left of Patrick, and Patrick to your left. 

Belch was talking to Henry about how long it’d take to ride back up the same road, what would happen if you went different streets, and you were about 70% positive that you all were supposed to be listening to him.

You couldn’t though, your mind only paying attention to the warmth of Patrick’s thigh against yours, and the way his hand was placed on your thigh, his thumb rubbing circles on the inside. 

Leaning into your ear, “This better be the best goddamn head I’ve ever had,” he purred and leaned back. You chewed on your bottom lip and lightly nodded, to which he responded with a tight squeeze on your soft flesh.

“Yes, Mr. Mechanic.”

–

Patrick slammed you against the hotel door, lips attacking yours instantly. You gasped and your hands immediately found his shoulders, your fingernails digging into them. 

His hands guided themselves over your body, up and down your waist, groping your breasts, and then finally resting on your ass. 

His lips were chapped and rough, an opposite to your soft and plush ones. Your lipgloss transferred to him though, slightly softening his lips just a bit.

He bit at your lip and shoved his tongue in your mouth, letting it roam around your mouth. You reciprocated and sucked on it, earning a low groan from the back of his throat. 

Your hands flew to the bun in his hair and you took it out, tossing the hair tie away from the two of you. You grabbed at it and pulled, harder than you probably intended. 

Patrick pulled away and looked at you, a predatory gaze in his eyes. Your mouth was slightly open with saliva on your bottom lip and your cheeks were burning up, your heart racing. 

You were a mess, and he loved it. 

He pecked your lips and started walking towards the bed, leaving you breathless against the door. You watched him take off his shirt, revealing a plethora of tattoos he gained over the years of highschool. He sat down on the side of the hotel bed and spread his legs, an obvious bulge in his jeans. 

You stood at the door and waited for him to tell you what to do. His eyes never left yours when he undid his belt with one hand and threw it behind him.

“Come ‘ere.” Patrick leaned back and you quickly walked over to him, kneeling in front of him without him even needing to ask. 

The grin on his face was large, and it grew when you reached for his groin and pulled him out of his pants and boxers. He sighed when he felt your soft smooth hands touch the base, a complete contrast to when his calloused ones do. 

The tip was red and leaking, and you brought your face closer to it, kissing just below it. Patrick’s hand rested on the top of your head, and he watched with amused eyes as you focused so hard on making him feel good. You did promise, afterall.

Your warm tongue slipped out and ran up the underside to collect what was building on his head, and then back down to trace over the vein underneath. His eyes closed tightly and his head tossed back, shivering with anticipation. 

He felt your warm lips wrap around the head and suck before pulling away to kiss down back to the base. His hips bucked upwards to show his impatience, and you ran your tongue back upwards along the vein, and sucked on the tip again. 

You didn’t pull away this time, though, knowing that he’d only push you down further. So you opted to suck on it and to languidly stroke the rest of his dick.

Patrick’s eyes stared into yours, taking note of the way your eyes would get glossier when he would push you further down his cock until he hit the back of your throat. Your hands came to tightly grip his thighs and you gagged, tears finally falling.

“Atta girl.” He hissed when your throat squeezed around his length, trying to get rid of the intruder that was making you choke. “Doing such a good job, dollface.”

You whined against him, the vibrations causing him the lurch forward. He cursed, grabbing your hair into a makeshift ponytail and roughly pulling you up and down his cock.

“If I’d known you be so good at this, I would’ve, shit, I would’ve fucked up Belch’s car months ago.” He panted, frantically matching the thrusts of his hips with his grip on you. 

You gagged again, and dug your fingernails so hard into his pants that you might have ripped them open. That seemed to be Patrick’s breaking point, though, and he faltered his movements before pulling you until your lips were wrapped around the head again. You sucked as hard as you could, and with a loud moan, he came. 

You swallowed as it coated your tongue and went down your sore throat, and continued to suckle it until every drop was gone and he went soft.  You finally pulled away and you wiped your mouth with your hand, the room silent and only filled with the sound of you two catching your breath.

“You, you fucked up the car?” You croaked out, your voice raspy and grated. Your hands rested on your own thighs, still kneeling in front of him. Your eyes caught his while he was putting himself away, and he snickered at how ruined you were.

“How the hell do you think I knew exactly what parts to get?” He huffed out, shrugging his shoulders and laying back on the bed. “I thought I’d get something out of going on this trip, so why not use your mouth for something good for once?”

You stared at the bed in front of you and leaned against his knee, closing your eyes. “You’re such a fucking asshole.”

“You love it.”

oh hey guys, i'm back