#except when you use them to ignore experiences
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LUCKY
carl grimes x reader
tags: angst but then fluff !
masterlist here!
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When the apocalypse started you’d lost all your family and were on your own for what felt like ages but you eventually found someone who made you feel safe and her name was Natasha. She was a stranger but she used to be a mother and had lost her son at the start. She’d protected you like you were her own; like you were blood.
She was everything to you, but she left too soon. She was attacked by a walker and you did everything you could. You got bit in the process and got so choked up over the fact you knew you’d die within the next twenty four hours, you let Natasha get swarmed. You ran away as fast as you could, basically sobbing. That night after finding shelter you patiently waited for the infection to take over. You couldn’t take the easy way out, you were too scared. Nothing happened for about two days straight when you realized, you might’ve just been lucky.
Ever since Natasha, you swore to yourself you’d never let anyone you cared for die like that again and you’d make sure of it with your immunity. Granted you could still get ripped to shreds but you knew you’d never let it get that far. Not after seeing what happened to Natasha.
After that, you traveled long and far, eventually finding yourself at a large gated community with a sign at the front that read “Alexandria Safe Zone.” They had let you in very kindly. You struggled to bond with anyone there, most of them had been there since the start and never had true experience in the world around you. Except Carl.
He, to you, was the most normal of all of them; your definition of normal at least. He’d seen it all, his whole group did but he was different from his group. He’d grown up in the apocalypse just like you. It wasn’t just a part of your guys’ lives. It was all you could really remember. It almost makes you feel bad for his baby sister. She’d never know what the world was really like.
So you two grew closer. You’d go out into the woods to ensure you’d never forget. You read comics, listened to music, anything that you could think of. It never occurred to you that maybe you should tell him about your immunity. You hadn’t told anyone before and you knew if you kept bonding like you were then he’d figure it out himself. You didn’t want to take the risk of him telling someone else, you don’t know what would happen to you.
You tried to ignore the topic as much as possible, you only have ever worn long sleeves and did whatever you could to ensure they would never see it. Carl had just assumed you were mostly comfortable that way so he never mentioned it.
One morning the two of you decided to go out to the forest to read. Although you’d heard talks of a horde of walkers that were supposed to travel through that day, you didn’t really listen. The communities horde tracking system wasn’t always accurate as it would usually be a couple days ahead.
You guys walked through the forest, your hands interlocked as you looked for your spot. You approached your fallen log and you settle into the ground as Carl begins to dig through a large black box filled with anything to entertain you both. “What do you wanna read?” He asks, focused on rummaging through the pile of comics. “I’m fine with whatever. Maybe Deadpool if you want.” You reply, also digging through your bag for the pretzels you had packed for you two.
He finds the comic and sits back next to you and you lean into his shoulder while you read. You loved this, reading with him. His presence helped you forget everything you wanted to. Losing your family, watching Natasha die, getting bit. Everything washes away when you’re with him. You focus on the comic for a while until you heard the irritating noise of walkers nearby. You completely forgot the warnings you’d heard this morning.
The both of you stand up and Carl tosses the comic back in the box. You look around to see that there’s a small horde. On a regular day you would go hide in the hallowed tree trunk behind your log but the walkers had already noticed you. “Shit. We’re just gonna have to take them.” You tell him. He pulls his knife from his belt and you do the same, preparing for the next step.
You handle a few, unfortunately not quite easily. Some of the skulls weren’t too soft and also you got quite a bit of blood on you. You handled about six of them, Carl handled 9. There was one final walker that you handled before you two could take a breath. You turn to Carl with a content look, almost proud of the work you accomplished. He nods and you’re interrupted by another walker which seemingly came out of fucking nowhere.
The walker pushes into Carl and your immediate instinct is to pull it off of him. You grab the walker just below its neck and before you know it, its teeth plunge right into your forearm. You didn’t know it but Carl’s heart completely shattered. His eyes went wide and he helped get it off of you. Your knife shoves into its chin and it’s finally dead.
You let it fall to the floor and for some odd reason, tears begin to flow from your eyes. It was too close of a call but you’d survived, Carl had survived. You were relieved; relieved that you’d saved someone from the fate Natasha had faced.
“Y-you’re bit.” He mutters. You look to him and wipe your tears, smiling slightly. His eyebrows furrow in confusion. How could you be smiling? “Why…what’s there to smile about?” He asks, his voice still quiet. You roll your sleeve up from your other arm, showing your old bite wound. He steps closer to see it and he gently runs his fingers over it.
“I-I don’t understand how’s that…” His voice trails off and he looks back to you for any answers.
“It’s from a while ago. I’m immune. I know I should’ve told you earlier but I didn’t know how, I didn’t know what people would do to me.” He looks back down at your arm before his hands move up to your shoulders. “I would never do anything to hurt you…I wouldn’t let anyone do anything to you.” You nod knowingly and look back at the floor as your tears continue to flow. “Why are you crying? You’re gonna survive.” His hand moves up to wipe your tears off.
“I guess I was just scared of losing you.” You explain. He tilts your chin up to look at you before kissing your forehead, leaning his on yours afterwards.
“You’re not gonna lose me.”
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a/n: yall it felt like going to WAR to get this shit out omg i literally couldn’t finish writing it for the life of me bc i’ve been soooo unmotivated BUT I FEEL BETTER NOWWW so i’m down to take even more requests i think i have one left in my inbox that will be worked on today and tmr and will probably be posted tmr :> THANK U ANON FOR THE REQUEST IT WAS PERFECT!!! (sorry for the ending being so shitty fhndnfnfnfn)
#carl grimes#the walking dead#twd#carl grimes twd#carl grimes fanfiction#carl grimes fluff#carl grimes x fem!reader#carl grimes x reader#carl grimes x y/n#carl grimes the walking dead#the walking dead carl#twd fanfiction#fanfic
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one of the weirdest things about *waves hands vaguely in the direction of my relationship* this whole experience. is this time around? there really isn’t a Taylor Swift song that captures it for me.
#even the MOST romantic ones? ones that I DO think capture something of the essence of love. none of them are right somehow!#i will still not be elaborating at this time#closest are probably Everything Has Changed (dust off your highest hopes everything HAS changed)#King of My Heart (is this the end of all the endings? my broken bones are mending)#weirdly State of Grace (love is a ruthless game unless you play it good & right! this is the golden age of something good & right & real!)#but there’s no hearing a song everything snapping into place like oh THIS is what it feels like#because none of those songs are about him you know??? the specificity is missing and the specificity is why I love him#Everything Has Changed is wrong because I knew a whole lot more than his name when everything changed!!#King of My Heart is wrong because it’s not QUIET enough. it’s too triumphant not awed enough#State of Grace is wrong because ‘you were never a saint we learn to live with the pain mosaic broken hearts’ just isn’t the vibe!#and neither of us have blue eyes!!!#and if this was a fictional blorbo song none of that would even matter because I can reach across miles to make a blorbo song work#but apparently not this time??#and the answer might be ‘well cate Taylor has never written a song about falling in love with an old friend’#(except for Glitch which lowkey sucks and Mary’s Song and INTHAF which go back TOO far; we didn’t grow up together)#but also…..it might be that this time it’s not primarily in my head and so I can’t twist it to fit a song#they say you know when you’re really in love because all the love songs make sense#but maybe that’s sort of the being in love with love stage??#maybe you know you’re really in love when none of the love songs can fully cross over into the uniqueness of your experience#anyway. ignore me#or send me song recs for friends-to-lovers lol#in which cate tells stories
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I wouldn't even necessarily mind a layout change if it were good but with the negative association I have with twitter, opening tumblr to the exact twitter layout is actually making me angry + the more time I spend on it it does feel cramped + the notifs on "following" (and now "home") are sooooo annoying somehow it's worse to me than the sparkling store icon and it's harder to just ignore than the notifs on "activity" because at least those max out and stay the same whereas this is constantly changing. the constant glitchy-looking appearing and disappearing of the following/for you bar as I'm scrolling was irritating enough without a changing number on it (also why would it make sense for that bar of all things to follow you down your dash. even if I used the for you tab, why would I switch in the middle of scrolling and lose my place?? it doesn't make any sense). but I'm getting off-topic. I don't understand every website copying all of twitter's famous-for-being-bad decisions right now. I hope all the things people are trying will work. looking forward to the probable xkit fix. thank you xkit devs for everything.
#also it's harder to find everything now! left that out of the post bc that just comes with moving things around but it's still annoying#this is so obvious it almost has me wondering if it's bad on purpose for some reason. except that they're making other bad changes too#tumblr update#this is actually a good reminder that there are probably things I conditioned myself to ignore that I might actually be able to change#with ublock or xkit#sometimes curating your experience also means changing the actual site#legitimately there are some things on a site you get used to and they aren't bad but there are Definitely other things#that when you get rid of them after a long time it's such a relief because it really was bothering you#'if you don't like it try to change it' are words to live by (with anything tech really) and easy to forget. I should look into it#personal
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I see this needs to make the rounds again. Fandom is a hobby. No one is forcing you to engage with stuff you don't enjoy. If someone is, maybe examine if that relationship is something you actually enjoy.
Go do something that makes you happy, and stop posting your hate in the tags where others are trying to find joy.
#but no im not going to call out any specific person or fandom#the point of this post is to avoid drama#im just very tired of having to avoid spaces specifically meant for things i enjoy#because some people feel the need to use those spaces to vent their negativity#i thought we agreed as a community to knock that shit off lile 5 years ago#if you dont like the show/album/person just ignore them#these are no longer the days of 2 tv channels and 5 radio stations#you have no excuse for not currating your experience#obvious exception to this is when a person or group has done something truly objectionable#this post is clearly about people who go into random fandom tags just to shit on it#don't be disingenuous in my inbox
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People in the discord server I'm in for game jam stuff are talking about different designs and things people do. And one person mentions they don't like playing suggestive games. Two people in the game jams make often... Idk how to put it. Big boob lady games. It's not Terrible terrible? But it does make me eye roll and make me be more careful with my words so I'm being polite and not like, talking down to them too much.
So shoutout to that other girl who was just like "nah I don't play those they make me uncomfortable" haha, you rock.
Also it made me chortle a bit cuz I realized that now three of my main characters in a row wear baggy sweaters and my first character before that was a small child.
Idk, I don't get the "bobba" thing. they'll all like, titter and laugh about it. Ohh, look at her walking cycle her pixel "bobbas" move, ohhh. It's weird. Can boobs just be boobs please. It's just. It's. ugh.
#is it just sexism? it might just be sexism#idk how to tag these things... maybe i should actually spend time in the tags I'm using lolol#it's so weird the runner of the game jam I'm doing now !!! ignores me!! in so many ways???#it's SO weird it's one of those really subtle things#and im positive it started when I switched my pronouns on the server to be she/her#cuz EVERYONE assumes you're a guy unless you say otherwise#but like lots of people post progress posts and he comments on ALL of them asking them questions and giving his thoughts#and he has never not once done that to me#or asked what I'm working on next or anything about my projects#i WON last game jam and he didn't even say anything or comment on my game#it's SO weird#should I just stop doing these? maybe but that feels like giving up and ...#like the dude running them not liking me cuz im a girl has 0 bearing on my experience in the jams except I miss out on his input#and who cares about his input lol#but it IS weird and sometimes I obsess over it too much cuz I end up gaslighting myself and being like#it's not that deep#but it is it is that deep it's definitely happening it's not in my head
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love when men cry about body hair bc "it's hygiene" and yet 15% of cis men leave the bathroom without washing their hands at all and an additional 35% only just wet their hands without using soap. that is nearly half of all men. that means statistically you have probably shaken hands with or been in direct contact with one of these people.
love when men say that women "only want money" when it turns out that even in equal-earning homes, women are actually adding caregiver burdens and housework from previous years, whereas men have been expanding leisure time and hobbies. in equal-earning households, men spend an average of 3.5 hours extra in leisure time per week, which is 182 hours per year - a little over a week of paid vacation time that the other partner does not receive. kinda sounds like he wants her money.
love that men have decided women are frail and weak and annoying when we scream in surprise but it turns out it's actually women who are more reliable in an emergency because men need to be convinced to actually take action and respond to the threat. like, actually, for-real: men experience such a strong sense of pride about their pre-supposed abilities that it gets them and their families killed. they are so used to dismissing women that it literally kills them.
love it. told my father this and he said there's lies, damned lies, and statistics. a year ago i tried to get him to evacuate the house during a flash flood. he ignored me and got injured. he has told me, laughing, that he never washes his hands. he has said in the last week that women are just happier when we're cooking or cleaning.
maybe i'm overly nostalgic. but it didn't used to feel so fucking bleak. it used to feel like at least a little shameful to consider women to be sheep. it just feels like the earth is round and we are still having conversations about it being flat - except these conversations are about the most obvious forms of patriarchy. like, we know about this stuff. we've known since well before the 50's.
recently andrew tate tried to justify cheating on his partner as being the "male prerogative." i don't know what the prerogative for the rest of us would be. just sitting at home, watching the slow erosion of our humanity.
#writeblr#warm up#ps edited so it is more clear where “half” of men is coming from:#15% literally don't even touch water#an ADDITIONAL 35% ''wash'' by just running their hands under water WITHOUT SOAP#15+35 =50%#like that is not washing ur hands. go back and use soap#btw the numbers for women are 4% never washing and 15% ''just water''#which is still gross but like. sooo much better yikes#ps i know we're all gay on this site but watching ppl ''correct'' my math on this has been wild#i have a learning disability im genuinely bad at math so i check EVERY time someone corrects me#but no they're just confidently wrong.....#182 hours is a week babes. 182/24 (number of hours in a day) is ~7.6#that's where i got that number from. also from rent we know there's 168 hours in a week.#ALSO btw if u read this and ur response is ''men are also struggling rn tho'' like babe you missed the point of it tho#this doesn't even make fun of men it's legit just pointing out that bigotry against women isn't founded#in anything men actually CARE about . like they don't actually CARE about ''being clean'' when they make fun of armpit hair#or they would be WASHING THEIR HANDS.#men pretend to be rollin' in cash and Apex Predators and instead they are trained to be lazy and unwilling to act in emergencies#i have never and will never make fun of men for asking for more support on important topics like DV and mental health.#this is so clearly not about men; it's about how common just being plainly misogynistic has become.#like they don't try to hide it anymore.
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And again, as always: It would be nice if you guys could stop making this about yourselves.
Whenever we post about our particular experience, people who normally can speak, but used to struggle with it, or struggle under certain circumstances, add on something to talk about themselves. This eventually leads to people talking about something completely different, and ignoring what the post was about at first.
Make your own post. We are constantly spoken over even in online spaces, and that's especially unfair because we struggle to communicate even more than other autistics.
Don't derail posts about people who never learned to speak from the very beginning and won't learn it ever.
That's unfair.
Sometimes I see people on here who want to be good allies to nonverbal autistics, but at the same time don't understand nonverbal autism at its core.
Most of us, who are nonverbal "from birth", struggle with language, to communicate, and to understand complex concepts. That's why we never learned to speak at all, ever.
But their strategy is to "hand us the mic" and ask "What are some misconceptions about nonverbal autism you'd like to discuss?" and expect us to respond.
"Misconceptions" is an abstract concept. Most of us can't just come up with an answer; my mind, for example, goes completely blank when I read this.
I wanted to talk about allies assuming that our brain works similar for at least 2 weeks, but it's only now that I am able to write something. 2 weeks!
Sure, there are autistics who can't speak due to apraxia, and who don't struggle with language otherwise, apart from the "not being able to speak with their mouth" part. But that's rare.
Even my ability to express myself well is rare. I am not your average nonverbal autistic. I am very skilled compared to the rest of us.
One thing about "never learning to speak" is that most of us really really struggle with language, and with understanding big words and topics. Not everyone, but many of us. That's why most of us aren't on social media.
Whenever I write "educational" posts, my inbox is flooded with follow up questions I just can't answer without help. Because most of the time I don't understand the text. I regularly have to close my inbox because people assume that I can process the text and respond like everyone else can. But having these abilities is an exception within autistics who never learned to speak from the very beginning. It seems normal, but those people just are the loudest. Because they're on social media and love to participate in discussions.
Most of us can't do that.
I'm glad that I made some speaking friends here who made an effort to understand us thoroughly, and they now often repeat what we think and want "but louder". Listen to them, most of us can't advocate for ourselves. They're not speaking over us, they're helping us to communicate without draining our energy.
And for everything else I have some posts linked in my pinned post because I can't just participate in discussions.
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The Doll House | M.List & Intro
doll!enha (hyung line) x fem!reader
warnings: smut (mdni), dolls, mentions of possession and demons, specific warnings on individual chapters
synopsis: when you're strapped for cash and an opportunity arises to help you out, you're stuck in a mansion with 4 human-like dolls who do anything but sit still.
taglist: closed!!
a/n: hi! so this was actually inspired by this ask and originally i was thinking of making it a long one-shot but then i was like, what if each hyung line member got their own chapter? so here we are! below is an introduction into the fic so make sure you read it before going into the chapters! they should be released every 1-2 weeks but i still have to write them so it's tbd right now.
warnings: fluff, smut (mdni), subby!jake, oral (m. rec), slight throat fucking, whimpering and whining, pet names (baby doll, pup), begging.
wc: 7.7k
read here
synopsis: it's your first week at your new job and you make a shocking revelation that puts your world in a spin and lets you experience something you never knew was possible
warnings: smut (mdni), unprotected sex, cream pie, oral (f.rec), fingering, dom!hoon (i didn't mean this, it just happened), begging but not really, horror elements obvs
wc: 8.9k
release date: 30th April
synopsis: once you find out the dolls' secret, you're on the hunt to find out how they became this way. in the library you stumble across something and you're left alone with park sunghoon who promises to keep your rendezvous with jaeyun a secret from their owner, but not without something in return
warnings: smut (mdni), soft dom!jay, oral (m.rec), throat fucking, gagging, begging, pussy slapping, multiple orgasm denials, punishment, mentions of hell, supernatural themes
wc: 10.7k
release date: 7th May (subject to change)
synopsis: your friend comes to visit you in the mansion and help out but her harsh words towards the dolls brings out a protective side, and jongseong lets you in on some secrets about the house
warnings: smut (mdni), oral (m&f.rec), throat fucking, rough, kinda dom!hee, doggy, choking, pet names (baby, angel), mentions of demons, revelations and conclusion
wc: tbd
release date: 14th May (subject to change)
synopsis: with only 2 weeks left, you have formed a bond with each of the dolls, well, all of them except heeseung. as you snoop around his room to find out more about him, he gives you all the answers you're looking for and more
“How long for how much?”
"Two months, 5k, just cleaning some woman's house," Mia responds, placing the newspaper in front of you with a dramatic flourish, the ad circled in pink glitter pen.
Taking the paper from her, you wrinkle your brow and examine the advertisement with scepticism and intrigue, "Isn't it strange that she's advertising in the newspaper? Who even reads these anymore?" Upon closer inspection, you sneer and return it to Mia, your fingertips leaving light smudges on the paper, "And she didn't even put her name, just 'Ms. Kim'."
This whole situation feels odd. What employer doesn’t post an ad on the internet like a normal person?
"She's probably ancient, Y/N. Old folks aren't exactly tech-savvy," Mia offers, attempting to rationalise the oddity.
Despite your reservations, the need for employment weighs heavily. Losing your job last month has left little time for finding a new one, and the bills certainly haven't stopped coming. £5000 for two months' work is an enticing offer, especially considering your previous job paid a fraction of that for an entire month's work.
You sigh, running a hand through your hair as you contemplate the offer. The uncertainty gnaws at you, but the allure of some financial stability is hard to ignore. Mia watches you, her expression a mixture of concern and anticipation as she awaits you to make up your mind. She could use the money too, giving her some extra cash to pay for her birthday trip in a couple of months.
"You know what?" you finally say, breaking the heavy silence that hangs between you. "Let's give it a shot. It's just two months, right? And we could really use the money."
Mia's face lights up with a grin, her enthusiasm infectious, "That's the spirit! Besides, how bad could it be? It's just cleaning."
You nod in agreement, though a lingering sense of unease tugs at the edges of your mind like a persistent itch you can't scratch. Pushing it aside, you focus on the prospect of income and the relief it would bring.
"Alright then," you say, mustering up a smile despite the nagging doubts that linger in the back of your mind. "Let's do it. But if anything feels off, we bail, deal?"
Mia nods enthusiastically, already dialling Ms. Kim’s number on her phone, her eagerness palpable as she eagerly anticipates the adventure that lies ahead.
_____
The drive to Ms. Kim's house feels never-ending, with each mile leaving the city behind and the surroundings blurring into an everlasting blur of trees and road. You check the satnav, hoping for a break from the monotony, only to see that, tragically, it still shows an hour left on the journey.
The scenery outside appears stuck in time, with the trees going past in a repeated rhythm that does little to break the spell of boredom. You peek at Mia, who sits next to you in the driver's seat, her expression conveying a similar mix of frustration and resignation.
The radio drones on in the background, a pitiful attempt to break the quiet that hangs thick in the air. You reach over and fumble with the dial, hoping to find a distraction, but each station either plays static or music you've heard a thousand times before.
“You seriously need to get a better car, Y/N. I told you we should have taken mine,” she snips at you, the journey clearly getting to her. You had run out of conversation in the first hour, discussing your non-existent love life and jobs that you have applied for. Since nothing was going on in your life, there wasn’t much to talk about.
“We said we would take mine so she would feel pity and give us more money,” you grumble, sinking into your seat in protest. If this woman has enough money to spend on random girls cleaning her house, she could have some more to throw at you as charity; you’ll take anything at this point.
The drive continues until finally, you pull up to Ms. Kim’s house. But calling it a house feels like a gross understatement; it's a mansion, a sprawling castle that looms larger than life before you.
A long gravel path stretches out before you, leading up to the imposing sand-coloured building. The mansion seems to bask in its own magnificence, the rustic feel and unkept garden only add a sense of eeriness to your wonder.
You exchange a glance with Mia, both of you momentarily speechless. This is not what you expected when you answered the ad in the newspaper. You expected it to be big, obviously, she wasn't going to give out 5k for a studio apartment, but this is on another level of anything you could have imagined.
Mia locks the car door, unsure whether to approach the large double doors. She outstretches her hand for you to take, seeking your comfort as she takes the first steps. You both look like you’re back in your first year of high school, scared that as soon as you step foot in the place, it will swallow you whole.
“We’re supposed to clean this every day?” you ask in disbelief.
Shaking her head, Mia tries to convey a sense of confidence in her voice yet it fails, “Surely not, the travel alone is too much for someone to do every day.”
With hesitant steps, you both make your way to the entrance, your finger reaching out to press the doorbell which rings a faint familiar tune, one you’ve heard plenty yet could never place the name. For a moment, there is only silence, and you begin to wonder if anyone is home. But then, with a creak that seems to reverberate through the very foundations of the mansion, the door slowly swings open, revealing a dimly lit interior shrouded in shadow.
A woman stands in front of you, her elegant clothes and neatly styled hair give her the appearance of a 90s supermodel. She doesn't resemble the idea you had of Ms. Kim. "Y/N and Mia?" she inquires, her voice smooth and melodious, a twinkle of delight in her eyes as she tilts her head with a smile.
You share a puzzled look with Mia. This woman could not possibly be Ms. Kim. For starters, she seems way too young to be the owner of this castle; she had to be just slightly older than yourself and you can barely afford to buy a loaf of bread. The advertisement plainly said that Ms. Kim was looking for help, hinting that she was an elderly homeowner in need of assistance. Second, the decision to advertise in a newspaper rather than somewhere like Indeed does not fit the image of a 20-something.
Your mind races with questions, but before you can express your reservations, the woman motions for you to follow her into the mansion. With a shared look, you and Mia exchange a silent agreement, remembering that you promised to bail as soon as anything got weird.
As you cross the threshold, the heavy wooden door slams behind you with a bang and you follow the mystery woman deeper into the mansion's maze halls, you can't help but feel like there's more to this situation than meets the eye.
“My name is Kim Soonyeol, Ms. Kim is probably how you know me. I am so happy you answered my ad so promptly! I was scared no one would answer it,” she explains.
Walking through the large hallways, you notice one thing that seems to be a prominent feature.
Dolls.
Lots and lots of creepy, old-timey porcelain dolls. They line the shelves, perched on antique furniture, and seem to stare at you with unblinking eyes as you pass by. Their features are fixed, ranging from serene to sinister, each contributing to the feeling of discomfort in the air.
Mia's grip on your hand tightens, and you can feel the tension radiating from her as she whispers, "Do you think they all have cameras in their eyes?" Her words send a chill down your spine, and you can't help but entertain the unsettling thought.
The woman leading you through the mansion seems unbothered by the presence of the dolls, her demeanour calm and composed as she gestures for you to follow. But you can't shake the feeling that there's something deeply wrong about this place.
"I am going away on some business for 2 months," she begins, her voice echoing through the cavernous halls, "and I need you to clean this entire house from top to bottom as well as a few...other errands."
Her words hang in the air, and for a moment, the only sound is the faint ticking of a clock somewhere in the distance. Soonyeol is ominous in her explanations, not delving any further into these ‘errands’. It's strange to you, why can’t her house stay stagnant for a month or two?
“There are a lot of rooms, Ms. Kim,” you comment, hoping she might open up and explain anything about this castle and why the fuck it is filled to the brim with porcelain dolls. It’s not exactly a young person’s hobby to collect these things - unless they’re haunted, then you know you need to take a sharp turn for the exit.
She smiles fondly, “Yes, each bedroom is designated to a precious doll of mine,” she offers as an explanation but fails to give any clarity.
“She is fucking crazy,” your friend whispers to you, her hand now gripping your arm as she walks slightly behind you, letting you take the lead in case of danger.
As Soonyeol gestures towards a room at the end of the corridor, she announces, "And this is your room. I've made sure I at least cleaned this before I left," punctuating her statement with a chuckle. With a flourish, she opens the door, revealing a space that dwarfs your flat and the corner shop it sits above.
But your confusion quickly turns to apprehension as Soonyeol's words sink in. "Wait, what do you mean 'our room'?" you interject, trying to mask the rising unease in your voice. "Isn't this just a cleaning job?"
Soonyeol's expression shifts, her eyes widening with a hint of anger as she leans back and places a hand on her chest. "Wasn't I clear in the ad that you would be housesitting?" she retorts, her tone laced with irritation. "I cannot leave my babies here on their own. They can't fend for themselves."
A chill runs down your spine as her words sink in.,"Babies?" you repeat, your mind reeling at the implications of her statement, "What do you mean by that?"
But before you can press for answers, Soonyeol is already ushering you and Mia out of the guest bedroom and into another part of the mansion. As you step into the dining room, you're met with a sight that you can't quite put into words.
Four figures sit at the dining table, their faces with different expressions and their bodies unmoving. At first glance, they appear to be ordinary people, but then it hits you like a bolt of lightning - they're not real. They're dolls, human-like dolls arranged as if they were waiting for a meal that would never come.
A shiver runs down your spine as you exchange a horrified glance with Mia. The realisation sinks in like a stone in the pit of your stomach - this woman is not just eccentric, she's fucking unhinged. And as you stand in that surreal dining room, surrounded by figures that seem to stare back at you with empty eyes, you can't help but feel a creeping sense of dread settle over you like a suffocating fog.
Despite Mia’s step back, you move forward, looking at them in detail. They are exquisitely done, each of them with their own unique features and life-like skin. You knew dolls like this existed but not to this level of detail. They must be worth thousands of pounds, easily in the double digits.
“If you cannot stay then I will have to look for someone else,” she starts to dismiss you much to Mia’s relief; she is already mentally back in the car and screeching out.
As Soonyeol's words hang in the air, the weight of her ultimatum settling heavily on your shoulders, Mia visibly relaxes, relief evident in her demeanour. She's already mentally back in the car, ready to screech out of this bizarre situation.
But your attention is drawn to one particular doll seated at the dining table. His eyes, although lifeless, seem to pull you in with an inexplicable allure. He's striking, meticulously detailed with dark cherry-red hair, wide lips, and a figure that exudes an almost ethereal charm, even in his simple white t-shirt. His eyes, though small, are framed by long lashes that only add to his beauty.
Before you realise what you're doing, your mouth begins to speak, surprising both you and Mia. "I can stay, sure," you hear yourself say, the words tumbling out with a sense of inevitability.
"What?" Mia's incredulous voice snaps you back to reality, her eyes wide with disbelief as she pleads with you to reconsider, "You can't up and move your life for 2 months!" she warns in a hushed tone, her concern palpable.
“I don’t exactly have anything to go back to,” you shrug, knowing that all that awaits you back in the city is unopened bills and mouldy cheese. Mia has much more to lose, a job and boyfriend aren’t exactly something you can just upchuck.
"You go home, and I'll do it," you suggest, a plan forming in your mind as you speak, "You can visit on your days off and help me out. I'll make sure you get half the money."
Mia doesn't look entirely convinced, but the thought of such a large sum of money for minimal work seems to appeal to her pragmatic side, "Will you be okay?" she asks, genuine concern etched into her features.
You consider the question carefully, a strange sense of reassurance emanating from the dolls behind you, despite their unsettling presence, "I will be. If anything happens, I'll come straight home," you assure her, your voice steadier than you feel.
Reluctantly, Mia agrees, nodding her head as she steps to the side to speak with Soonyeol and gather more information about the job. Left alone with the dolls, you can't help but steal one last glance at the cherry-red-haired figure that caught your eye earlier. But something is different this time - the smirk on his lips and the narrowed gaze in his eyes seem almost... knowing.
Was he doing that before?
#enhypen smut#enha smut#enhypen x reader#heeseung smut#sunghoon smut#jake smut#jay smut#masterlist#aj writes#i am excited!#; the doll house
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Silly Spicy Call of Duty headcanons
Characters: Simon "Ghost" Riley, Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, König, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, Alejandro Vargas, Rodolfo "Rudy" Parra, John Price, Valeria Garza, all x reader
Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI)
Themes: All NSFW but very lighthearted, nothing particularly triggering but ask to tag!
Word count: 750ish
These are just silly little headcanons about them, PLEASE if you have any like these send them to me i had such a blast writing them lol!!
Ghost
Sometimes his mask slips a little and he looks goofy as hell, you have to do your best to not laugh into his face because you know he won’t let that slide.
Uses British lingo sometimes. Has called your pussy a “fanny” before. Got mad when that made you giggle.
Once got so frustrated with trying to figure out how to operate one of your vibrators that he broke it. Was very apologetic and immediately ordered you another one afterwards.
Soap
He is clumsy as hell. Every time you have tried to fuck in a position that is anywhere near athletic, something goes wrong. It’s a miracle neither of you have broken your necks trying to get it on in the shower. He will always take the fall though, protecting you with everything he has and curling himself around you even if it means he will end up bruised or bleeding.
Makes a lot of typos when sexting, never notices. Called you “baby gorilla” once (you will never let him live that down).
Gets offended when you call him “Soap” in the bedroom. You know my name, what are you calling me that for? Dummy.
König
He doesn’t usually wear his balaclava under his mask when you have sex since it gets too sweaty but since his mask is pretty loose he will sometimes have to pft-ppf-tpftt when it gets stuck in his mouth. Has almost choked on his mask before.
Gets so flustered that he will just start sputtering nonsense. Has on several occasions been so out of it that he has messed up the nicknames you use for each other. “yes show me that I am your little babygirl, wait- no, you are… I am your boy… you’re… Wait, I’m sorry”. Not a gender or kink thing, which would of course be alright with you, just him being a dummy.
Is a bit of a crier and drooler sometimes which wouldn't be a problem except for the fact that he will sometimes accidentally waterboard himself in his mask and not tell you.
Gaz
Has called you mommy once and was mortified. Neither of you have really spoken about it but sometimes you will drop little hints around him to get him flustered.
Likes when you suck him off while he is playing video games but then gets too into the game and genuinely can’t help but get annoyed when he loses because you distract him.
Cpt Price
Is oblivious to any signs that you want him. Will go into Dad story telling mode and completely ignore the effect he is having on you until you grab him by the shirt and just tell him to fuck you.
Has a sex playlist called "sensual" with just the most cliché sex songs on it possible. Can unironically have sex to "Careless Whisper" and “Let’s get it on”.
Has given you rug burn with his beard before. 0/10 very unpleasant experience (you’d do it again, though).
Alejandro
Will say things that could be interpreted as sexist in the moment and then immediately get apologetic. Who’s my good slut? I mean… If you want to be. I’m sorry, I don’t mean to… Are you okay with that? Okay. Cool.
Will fuck you in uniform because he knows you’re into that and then get distracted by things he finds in his pockets like shopping receipts.
Doesn’t care whether or not you understand him, he will speak Spanish to you.
Rudy
Gets tormented by you with new pet names every day. mí amor, I don't know what a Zaddy is. I don’t even know if that’s a good thing.
In the beginning of your relationship he was completely oblivious to most kinks. If you ever expressed anything out of the ordinary to you, he’d raise his eyebrows in confusion and say something like “what? why would anyone want that?” but was always open to trying anything. Now he is probably even more of a deviant than you are.
Valeria
Has this roleplay thing going on where you are a traitor to her cause and she discovers it and gets to “punish” you. You find it a little silly but it gets her super riled up so you play along.
Secretly loves to bottom and to be taken care of by you but would never tell you (you know anyway). Thinks she is being very good at hiding it (she is not).
#call of duty imagine#call of duty x reader#oh lord there's gonna be so many tags on this help#ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#soap x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#könig x reader#konig x reader#gaz x reader#kyle garrick x reader#alejandro vargas x reader#rodolfo parra x reader#valeria garza x reader#captain price x reader#cod fanfiction#cod x reader#ari writes
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one of my most formative fandom experiences was a comment i had gotten on a fic i wrote for a halloween themed fandom event.
this was for a manga/anime, so the fic was a general ghost story obviously set in Japan. the beginning of it involved a pizza delivery and while writing it, i had spent like 30 minutes just double checking tipping customs and the types of pizza they serve and even fell down a wikipedia rabbit hole looking up the history of pizza in Japan.
now, i just like the research part of writing, i do stuff like this because i have fun doing it. and while i was writing this particular fic, i had laughed at myself for my 30 minutes of googling that amounted to 2.5 offhand lines in a 3500 word fic. i didn't think anyone would care about or even notice those particular details except for me, especially since none of them were relevant to the ghost part of this ghost story.
except, when i had sent this fic to a Japanese friend, the first thing she said to me about it was "OH MY GOD YOU GOT THE PIZZA RIGHT"
and that was the moment when it had really clicked for me. what had just been 30 minutes of effort on my part had become a moment of relief for her. my friend was far more used to reading ethnocentric fic that ranged from unintentional ignorance to outright superiority against part of her culture (the original story's culture no less). and even with the "innocent" ignorance (heavy quotes on that) far outstripping any outright maliciousness, that's still so many people saying her culture was not worth learning about. the pizza in my story was a small detail, but i had cared enough to put in some effort to check it. and for her, coming from a fic experience where her norm was bracing for hundreds of inaccuracies born of ignorance, especially at that time after a flood of stories centered around "Halloween as a cultural holiday in the US" premises instead of the "Halloween is a commercial gimmick in Japan" reality, seeing someone put in some effort even for minor story details meant something to her.
this also throws me back to the discourse that arose in a french show fandom a few years ago because there were a lot of fic authors that wrote 'dollars' instead of 'euros'-- but when people brought this up as a prevalent issue across the fandom but an easy one to fic/watch out for, many of these writers instead pushed back to complain that they were posting stories for free and it wasn't that big of a deal. which really upset a lot of people, but then this upset was met with a new wave of indignation that people needed to 'get over it' because they're writing fic ~just as a hobby~. but, even if 'dollars' instead of 'euros' wasn't a big deal, by digging in their heels about the issue, they were saying "your culture isn't worth even five minutes of my time or effort."
I've been thinking about these things lately because the ethnocentrism in Thai drama fandoms is...staggering. just over the turn of the year, there were waves of Christmas fic for Buddhist characters. and just. Christmas in Thailand is a tourist thing at best. sometimes a pop culture gimmick for international audiences or maybe an offhand high school thing to blow off steam between midterms. it's not a cultural thing. and even if a character is a part of the Christian minority, a Christian Thai's holiday customs and culture are going to be vastly different than a Christian's customs in the Americas or Europe. and while the Christmas fic is at least finished for now, I'm already bracing myself for the Easter fic wave that also seems to pop up for Thai dramas. it's so frustrating to see this sort of cultural overwrite all the time, especially since most Thai drama holiday works aren't about Thai holidays.
but the thing that really got me bristling about all of this again was i saw a post the other day where op said that they weren't going to write [thai drama] fic because they don't know much about thailand.
what an absolutely appalling statement to make.
google is right there. wikipedia is free. you don't even have to leave tumblr or AO3 to learn more because there are Thai natives in fandom who write essays to explain common elements of their culture. hell, even just watching these Thai stories and considering the values and messages imparted by the narrative framework and story lens tells you something about that culture. the audacity to look at a culture different from your own and say "this is not worth my effort or time to learn anything more about," are you kidding me?!?
the messages and values of a story tell you about the writer's values, which are going to carry their cultural values, beliefs, and biases. Thai culture is going to be heavily relevant to any Thai story, even the ones that aren't explicitly about Thai culture/customs/etc. (hell, Thai bl/gl as a genre alone-- just the fact that queer Thai writers are making these stories in Thailand's current political climate is highly political, even the "fluffy" ones that don't seem to make outright political statements.) to approach any story like it was made in a vacuum is to remove the writer(s)' culture and values and to overwrite them with your own.
especially because this is fandom. these are the lowest stakes to learn! it sucks to see people say things like "but i'm scared i'll get something wrong" and hold up that fear as a shield to justify their ignorance. no one's expecting anyone to get every detail right, especially not for a culture that isn't theirs, just make an effort to learn something new about it. pick out something that caught your eye as different to learn more about and see where it leads you.
and for the record--making a mistake trying to broaden your horizons is a far, far better thing to do than to superimpose your culture on everyone else's because you're scared to confront your ignorance.
edit: check out this reblog thanks
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I feel like disappointment in Biden is baffling to me because he was always a disappointment. He was the asshole who got to ride to power on the coattails of a better man. He told bizarre and repeated lies (despite getting caught at it and his team telling him not to) about having a Welsh coal miner dad when he did not and he stole that story from actual Welsh people. I read a profile of him years back that pointed this out and told the story of the time he straight up ignored good advice from an expert not to plant a certain kind of tree too close together and flew a bunch of them out to plant, at night because he was just too fucking excited about it, and they all died. He’s not a smart man! He’s charismatic ish and lacks principles and as far as I can tell doesn’t really care about abortion rights or a lot of things we’d consider pretty critical to preserving freedom. I sincerely thought he couldn’t become President because there were so many obviously better candidates in the pool. I underestimated the sexism and antisemitism in American politics, and when he became the candidate in 2020 I gritted my teeth and voted for him because the alternative was a man who is not only an idiot but also profoundly dangerous. Trump is not ha-ha crazy, he’s Mussolini crazy. He is not dangerous because he’s stupid, although that doesn’t help; he’s dangerous because he does not care about anyone except himself under any circumstances and if that means he lets the far right push us straight into forced birth for white women and sterilization for women of color he’s going to do that. If that means conversion therapy for queers and death penalty for homosexual acts he’s going to do that. He has literally no limits. If he gets back into power, a whole lot of people are going to die, again. It’s not a hypothetical because it happened the first time and he’s only going to get worse.
I am not, never have been, and never will be a fan of Biden. To pretend that he and Trump are in any way equivalent is wrong at best and another goddamn Russian psy-op at worst. To pretend that a third party candidacy is viable in the US is to completely ignore every election of your lifetime and your parents’ lifetimes, and to further ignore the lesson of Ross Perot.
You cannot save Palestinians by not voting for Biden in November; the best you can do is chip away at his margin, and the worst you can do is see Trump elected so he can decide to do the worst possible thing in ever circumstance. Biden has Palestinian blood on his hands and watching this when we could have had Bernie or Elizabeth Warren instead is maddening. (I would have preferred Hillary to Trump, but I don’t think she’d be any different than Biden here. They’re both old-school politicians.)
I hate everything about this, and I hate that saying “maybe don’t put the man who literally said he would kill his political enemies in power” is seen as supporting genocide. It’s acknowledging reality. Joe Biden as a person can eat rocks for all I care. I was kind of hoping he’d die sooner in his term so we’d have time to get used to and then vote for President Harris. (Remember when the line was “she’s a cop, don’t vote for her”? Funny how there’s always a reason not to vote for a woman or a person of color or someone you just “don’t like” and can’t put a finger on why except she “seems angry.” Oh does she. How would she not? When Michelle fucking Obama, the picture of grace , STILL got called angry for having the nerve to be a Black woman with an opinion? When Hillary Clinton lost to a man with no political experience to her decades and who openly discussed sexually assaulting women? Would you have voted for President Harris? Or would you let Trump win again because you don’t LIKE her personally and she’s made decisions and statements you disagree with?)
Biden has both less power than his critics give him credit for and more power than his fans give him credit for. He needs to do more to pressure Israel and although it’s a delicate diplomatic situation I’d rather see us fuck up our diplomatic relationship with Israel than watch more Palestinians get murdered for things like “wanting to eat” and “existing.” The line has been crossed, and he doesn’t see it. Because he wasn’t the best person for the job. Because they didn’t get elected, because of sexism/antisemitism/racism. Hell, I have no idea what bootlicker Pete Buttegieg would have done here, but I’d have given him a try. But no. We got Biden and we’re stuck with this reality where you can be as leftist as you want and still have to look at the situation and decide whether you’re comfortable contributing to a Trump victory through inaction. I want socialism—I want every single person on Earth to have clean drinking water, enough safe food, shelter, medical care, and education—and I’m going to vote for Biden, pissy as it makes me, because the only actual alternative is so, so much worse, for me personally as both a woman and a queer, and for everyone in America and the rest of the world who Trump would find reasons to hurt. What do you think the man who openly and repeatedly praises dictators is going to do when those dictators massacre their own people? Yes, we need to care about this genocide now. We also need to care about all of the other people who are at real risk, both at home and abroad. Would a Trump government agree to fund military intervention in Haiti without insisting on it being a colonial exercise in power? Would a Trump government roll back the restrictions on discriminating against transgender patients in healthcare? How would Trump respond if Orban started dragging people into the streets and shooting them en masse? How would Trump respond if China finally went for it and invaded Taiwan? There are more lives at stake here than mine or yours or even those of the Palestinians, who have deserved better for literally decades and are being mass killed in ways that should result in immediate sanctions, a war crimes trial, and the execution of Netanyahu.
The world deserves better from you than complicity in a Trump victory.
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Hot with brains
•WARNINGS: SMUT. Fingering (f receiving), oral fixation, dirty talk, praise kink and also degrading kink, corruption kink kinda??? Edging. Public space. The OC has a kink that attracts her to smart guys.
Pairing: ROTS!Anakin Skywalker x Female!reader.
Summary: Anakin falls for the librarian at the Jedi Temple, however, he soon realizes his adorable smile and golden curls won’t cut it with this one. No, she likes something different: brains.
Word count: 4.7K.
A/N: Pretty self-indulgent piece. I've been obsessed with Anakin's engineering brain ever since I got into Star Wars and this idea had be floating around for a whileeeee. Hope you all enjoy reading it, as much as I enjoyed writing it!
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You liked smart guys.
It wasn’t a kink per sé. You just couldn’t see yourself hooking up with someone with no brains, let alone establishing a committed relationship with them. You were swoon by guys with deep thoughts and admirable speech skills. The type of man that would go for a whisky instead of a beer, or use real shoes instead of plain sneakers.
You being a snob might have to do with your upbringing, after all you were the daughter of two scholars and professors of one of the most prestigious universities of Coruscant. You were raised to be logical and love intellectual conversations. You wouldn’t- No. You couldn’t see yourself enjoying a space with someone with a low IQ.
That was the reasoning behind taking the internship in the Jedi Temple’s library as part of your college voluntary program. You had to volunteer a certain amount of hours in order to graduate from your Journalism degree with honors.
You thought that even though this wasn’t exactly the area in which you were specializing, you would soak up some of the ancient knowledge of the Order, even make some great connections for the future. And so far it has been just that: A great experience. You got to read some really cool books and in the hours where no one would come, you got to finish some school work. The Jedi who would visit the library were nice and kind, always polite with a big smile. You even grew really fond of a young Togruta padawan that would spend her breaks in between training devouring books.
It was calm and quiet.
Until the storm broke through the door.
“Is this the one you’re looking for?” You yelled to Ahsoka as you climbed down the stairs with the title she asked for.
“Yes! Thank you, y/n!” She gave you a hug and ran to her table to start reading about the swamps in Dagobah.
You returned to your desk and kept registering the book’s codes into the control sheet when a loud sound made you look to the door, the one that was violently being thrown to open room for a tall, curly-haired man with dark robes.
You would recognize those robes anywhere. In reality, anyone from any point of the galaxy would recognize them.
Anakin Skywalker.
One of the few exceptions of Jedi men who didn’t live up to the sophisticated standard of the Order’s image. And definitely someone you would prefer to stay away from. For some reason he was the favorite warrior of the people; the citizens would line up in front of the Temple to scream “Hero with no fear” to that pretentious douchebag.
He was fine.
As what most people would call courageous, you would say careless. To others he was passionate, to you he was irrational. Not to mention how idiotic and unsubordinated he was; always talking back and doing things his way, ignoring what the guidelines said.
You didn’t like him. You didn’t like him at all. For that you were thankful that he never set foot into your sacred place. Until that doomed day.
“C’mon, Snips.” He shouted, approaching the desk where she sat. “We need to go. Council just called.”
“Can I have five more minutes? I’ve barely read anything about where we are going!” Ahsoka whined.
“You don’t need to read anything, we will find out anything that’s necessary there.” He huffed, finding his apprentice’s actions ridiculous.
You quietly sighed and rolled my eyes. Of course.
“Fine… but y/n really took her time fetching it for me.” She exhaled annoyed and closed the book.
Your eyes remained glued to your task at hand, not willing to look up and be involved in some type of pending argument.
“Who’s y/n?” Anakin scoffed rather loudly.
“Y/n! The volunteer?” Anakin frowned at the short explanation and shook his head in a negative motion. “You know, y/n! C’mon Skyguy, follow me.”
No, please no, you whispered to your insides.
“Hey, y/n!” You heard Ahsoka’s little footsteps running to where you were.
“What can I do for you, Soka?” You answered, still pretending that you were too busy to move your head from its position.
“Skyguy hasn’t met you. Here, Anakin, y/n. She helps us out here in the library.”
“Ahsoka, we’re not supposed to be having social meetings, we need to go-” You finally gazed up and in that moment, Anakin and you made eye contact for the first time; it was intense. It felt like something clicked for him. “You must be Y/n.” Anakin shook his head lightly, hinting a little smirk as leaned over your table with fixed eyes.
Hell, no.
“Yes, I am. How may I help you?” You were bitter, totally unbothered by his chiseled cheekbones, or his gorgeous hair, or his plumped lips. Not even the scar had any effect whatsoever. He was an ass and that was automatically a turn off for you.
“I’m sorry I haven’t met you. You must be new.” He explained with dreamy eyes, subtly checking you out. You cursed the moment you decided to come in today with a blouse who had a bit of a cleavage. “I’m Anakin. Anakin Skywalker.”
“Actually, I’ve been here for almost two months now.” You suppressed the soul-eating need to roll your eyes.
“Oh, really? Sorry, I don’t come here much.” He leaned over even more, trying to keep eye contact even when you sat down.
“Obviously.” You whispered on the low.
“Excuse me?” Anakin frowned, interrupting his beam to pout with confusion.
“Nothing.” You smiled widely with a fake grin.
“Okay…” His frown deepened before a smirk broke out his lips. “Maybe I will make it a habit and visit more often.” He shrugged his shoulders, tilting his head to the side, deciphering the effects of his statement on you.
“You should.” You looked at him and gave him a side-smile, making his eyes sparkle. “Books are good for you.” You returned to check the order of nabooian books on your computer.
“Yeah, books are cool but there are other things I would much rather check out.” He smirked shamelessly at you, the back-handed comment flying way over his head.
You felt like gagging. Not the good kind.
Before you could come up with a clever response and shut him down for good, Ahsoka spoke from behind him.
“Ugh, gross! Let’s go!” The kid dragged him out by his clothes and before he disappeared through the glass door, he winked at you.
That was the first time you have seen him. First of many, many more.
Since the day your paths crossed, he took every fleeting moment to come and “read”, when in reality it was just him eating, or drawing or doing anything but opening a book. Taking advantage of your breaks, or whenever you returned to your seat after doing rounds, he would come over and make conversation. About his battles, his accomplishments, his close-calls to death… or about random facts he collected from his missions and travels; Anything that would maybe impress you.
And when he wasn’t doing that? He would drown you in compliments, to see if in fact, you soften up to him. Anakin was already aware of your no-so-secret disgust towards him the day he caught one of your eye rolls.
Did he care? No.
He was persistent: admiring your hair, loving the way you had styled it in a little bun (even though it was because the heat was eating you alive). He would ask about the tasks you were performing, sucking at pretending to be interested in hearing about organizing books in alphabetical order.
And it would have maybe worked; his good looks combined to his natural charisma were enough to make any mortal melt at his sight. You almost combust when you saw him carrying some wood boards into the library, the primal part of you rejoicing at the sight of his strong muscles stretching. The man was eye candy, whether you like it or not.
But, boy, were you tough.
Anakin Skywalker was not your cup of tea to say the least. You wouldn’t collaborate in his attempts to get to know you. You were so uninterested in finding out more about him when you had already scanned him. Just a way-too-handsome-for-his-own-good guy who was lucky enough to be born as the Chosen One, because otherwise, he would have never made it in the Order. He was determined, you would give him that.
His approaches were never creepy or invasive enough to make you uncomfortable, only to drive you wild. Even when he was the worst part of your day, you had to keep the polite but distant charade going on, in order to protect your job. Your disgust towards him, instead of hurting him, amused him. He liked challenges and you were freaking Mission Impossible. Although he also saw the flaws in you: a pretentious prick girl who had probably achieved everything in her life thanks to nepotism. But he could see past that.
Because, boy, were you hot.
And he was sure you liked it nasty.
Underneath your goodie-two-shoes clothes hid the true you: he knew you loved being treated like a filthy slut.
“Hello, y/n!” Ahsoka squealed in an excited voice. You two have grown to adore each other.
“Hey, Soka!” You responded happily, finishing to put some encyclopedias on a shelf. When you turned around, you saw she wasn’t alone. “Oh… good afternoon, Anakin.”
“Nice to see you too, y/n.” Anakin huffed in a sarcastic voice before strolling to where you were, Ahsoka following close behind. “Is that a new shirt? It suits you.”
“No, it’s the same white button up shirt that I’ve always used.” You smiled and turned around to roll your eyes in peace. He was too busy devouring your bosom behind the fabric to ever notice the barrier between his eyes and your skin.
“Y/n, do you think you could grab me a book about loreeks? I’m doing a little presentation about them for my science class.” Ahsoka asked you with a sweet voice.
“Oh sure… just let me look oveeeer…” You walked, stretching the words as you searched in the countless sections. “...here. It must be on one of these shelves.” You announced when you entered the exotic animals aisle.
Digitating the code on your scanner you found out it was in one of the tallest shelves, only reachable with a ladder. Right when you were about to move it, Anakin came in.
“Don’t worry, Y/n. I’ll get it.” And he used the Force to bring the book down. “Here you go Snips, study hard.” He nudged her head, annoying her.
“Yeah, I guess… but it’s Friday. Can I read after I hang out with the other padawans? Barris and Meelo are going skating!” She gave her best puppy eyes, to which Anakin agreed, after giving it little to no thought.
“You didn’t have to give her the book, I could have done it.” You waited for Ahsoka to leave before dropping the bomb.
“Easy there, kitten. I was just helping out.” He furrowed his eyebrows. As if the unnecessary nickname wasn’t enough to drive you mad. Looking down, he saw the rest of your outfit and lingered his eyes more than necessary in your short, black skirt. “On second thought, I might have let you do it.” He smirked confidently.
“Just stay out of my way, okay?” You growled, walking away from him to your desk, not without bumping your shoulder with his on your way out.
“What the hell is your problem?” He asked with an incredulous face.
You were done. The build-up from the past month was beginning to choke down your sense of decency. Not to mention that your day was already going terrible before he appeared: the droid that would always help you out was broken, significantly delaying your work day. Also, it was laundry day and you had to use your uncomfortable lingerie.
“You know what, Skywalker?” You turned around with raised eyebrows. “You’re my problem.” He opened his eyes in bewilderment. “I don’t like you. I don’t appreciate you coming in, all macho-” You made a mocking manner. “-acting like a goddamn superhero, only after cleaning up the mess you created in the first place.” You crossed your arms in your chest.
“I’m a general, kitten, and I can assure you the war it’s not my fault.” He scoffed, he used the nickname again, knowing it would press your buttons.
“And how many times have you messed it up bigger than it was?” You squinted your eyes, only to see him run out of words. “That’s what I thought.” You came back to digitating codes. “It’s like you don’t think. You are just a machine run by adrenaline and praise.” You finally rolled your eyes in front of him without shame. You tried to run down the reports that C7, your assistant droid would do, only to fail and almost delete everything in your computer. “And I can assure you I have bigger problems than dealing with you!”
“Okay, back down-”
“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You yelled, getting desperate and throwing a tantrum at the device. You had enough for the day. You could leave, given that no one would come over this late, but your sense of responsibility prevented you from going home before finishing your work load. “I fucking hate this system!”
“Let me see-”
“Don’t! Just don’t, okay?” You swatted his hand away. “I’m not in the mood.”
“Could you stop being so stuck-up and let me help you?” He raised his voice, stepping up close to tower you. His eyes were on fire and you could sense that your previous comments did get to him, but for some reason outside of your understanding, he was still willing to help.
“Fine.” You chewed the words in your mouth, stepping down as you glared at him, giving him space to analyze the situation.
Instead of leaning down the computer, he went directly to C7, who lingered weakly on the side of your desk. He picked him up and put it on the table, moving him around his hands to examine the droid. He hummed after a couple of minutes, putting the mechanical body at eye level. “I see.”
“See what? What is it?” You pressed, trying to pick a glance from over his shoulder.
“I’m going to need my tools.” He murmured, dropping the droid back again.
“Wh-”
“I’ll be right back.” He exclaimed, before heading to the door in a rush.
“Wait! What?” You shouted, the shadow of his body the only thing visible.
You stayed alone for about fifteen minutes. You even got to thinking that he was pulling a prank on you, after yelling at him. But you stayed there, because well… what else would you do? You were beginning to fall asleep as you played with paper clips, when you heard the door being opened again.
“Finally! I thought you had left!” You sighed in relief, pushing your body off your desk.
“I was getting my tools, I told you.” He frowned, lifting the heavy, dark red box to the white marble. “Now let’s bring this one back to life.” He smiled, before busting the carcass open.
It took Anakin less than what you waited for him to get C7 up and running again. He flipped panels, snapped cables and pressed buttons, at an order that seemed random to you, until C7’s mechanical eyes opened again.
“Oh my God!” You laughed in disbelief. “He’s functioning again!”
Anakin smiled down at the table, as he finished up adjusting some screws. C7 sat up, analyzing his surroundings before getting up and going straight back to work.
“I-I-” You were speechless. How did he do that? So fast? “I can’t believe you just did that.” You mumbled, still looking at C7 like it was a ghost. “Thank you, Anakin.” You turned around with apologizing eyes, twitching an embarrassed smile.
“No problem. His transmitter was disconnected from the main system. I had to fix his-” The next couple of things that he mentioned sounded like pure gibberish to you, but he was very firm, so it must be true. Right? Sensing your bafflement, he spilled facts slower and quieter until he stopped talking, finalizing with a dry smile. “Yeah, it was nothing.”
He was starting to pack everything in his toolbox again and you had a pending need to say something. However, you didn’t know if you should kick off with a real apology or-
“How did you know all that?” So a pop quiz it was. In your defense, you were genuinely curious about the abilities he had just demonstrated. Mindblown, to be more specific.
“About what?” He furrowed his brows, closing the box but leaving on the table.
“About the transmitter, and the restraining bolt, and- and-” You were running out of technical terms.
“Mechanics are second nature to me at this point.” He shrugged his shoulders, picking up the box. “I know everything about the topic, so, it was an easy fix. I’d have rearranged his central system if I had the missing part, but it’s very specific. What I did will do for now, though.”
He was about to leave when he noticed the way you were leaning on the table, head on top of your fist to pay close attention to him. You were murmuring almost unhearable “uh-huh”s, totally lost in his words.
“Sooo, you know mechanics.” You were such a hypocrite, you couldn’t stand the man fifteen minutes ago and now you were drooling over the sight of him explaining complicated shit to you. Snob. “You often fix things?” You tried to investigate, see if the throbbing happening between your legs was worth pursuing.
“Sometimes… I often go to the hangar and repair the damaged ships or flip them.” He grinned without teeth. “The techs often ask for me. They say I have an eye for these things. Been working on droids since I was a kid, so.” Anakin wasn’t trying to brag, but his ample knowledge in mechanics was something that he prided himself on.
“That seems like a lot of work.” You continued the small talk, slowly losing yourself over this spontaneous crush.
“It can get tricky.” He dismissed, beginning to notice the glint on your eyes. He recognized the way your irises had darkened: He got those fuck-me eyes wherever he went. “Still haven’t found something I can’t fix.”
But it was involuntary. The fact that he was an expert on a matter as hard as mechanics scratched a part of your brain; It flipped a switch inside of you. Anakin was a different man under your eyes now. He was smart, hella smart.
“Gosh, that’s so impressive.” You giggled like the girls that would flirt at him. Pathetic. But you quickly regained control, not before sucking up some courage and getting closer to him, posing more seductively this time. “That brain of yours sure hides lots of secrets.”
He hadn’t quite figured out why the change of heart, so it took him a moment to replay your evening together. It lasted a bit more than he liked to admit, but it hit him. Of course. An arrogant smile cracked his face. Of course you would be attracted to someone who was a master of something you consider relevant. After all, you liked to consider yourself an “intellectual”. Just to test his theory, he consciously started to brag about something else… something that would have your panties in a bunch if his hypothesis was correct.
“Wanna know another one?” He cocked an eyebrow, resting his elbow on the table to stand inches away from your face.
Your face shined with a slight pink blush, but it was the way you bit your lip that drove him crazy. That and your enthusiastic nod. “Yeah.”
“There’s a reason behind why I’m the best pilot of the fleet. And it’s not just because of my background as a pod racer or the Force.” He whispered, snickering at how soft your eyes had grown. “It’s actually because… I use physics.”
“Physics?” You almost moaned.
“Yeah, physics.” He repeated, moistening his lips, a thing your eyes followed. “Self-taught, just like with mechanics.”
That ripped a subtle whimper out of you. Well, not subtle to him.
“You-you understand math?” If it wasn’t because you were visibly squeezing your thighs at the newly acquired information, he would be completely offended that you thought he was dumb as fuck.
“Love em.” He muttered, his intense stare glued to you, as his fingers put a string of hair behind your ear.
Like thunder, you were rushing to capture his lips and show him just how hot you thought he was now. Anakin freezed at first, taking aback by your sudden demonstration of affection, but when he understood that you were willingly -and enthusiastically- giving yourself to him, he wasted no time to embrace you back.
Wet kisses splashed everywhere; it was fucking mess. You hung onto his shoulders while he groped all of your body, starting with your sweet hips, fondling your ass like it was his personal stress ball and finally landing on your waist. You pressed against him shamelessly, but in reality, how much shame could you still have when the man’s tongue was down your throat? The only thing you knew with certainty was that the sucking sounds and moans you both dropped were intensifying the already sex-filled atmosphere.
“Anakin.” You tried to sound normal, but your voice was failing just like your knees were. “W-why haven’t you gone to a proper school? Maybe get a degree?”
Was that seriously so important to you? The opinion of others? Anakin questioned in his own head.
Anakin was the kind of person that wasn’t susceptible to the opinion of others, especially regarding his own image. He was sure of the shit he knew and didn’t need anyone validating that for him. No expensive universities, no uptight professors; Obi-Wan was more than enough. Nonetheless, he had found a shortcut to get inside your pants and God as his witness, he was gonna use it.
“Y/n.” He snickered right in your face, drinking in the power. “I don’t care about any of that. I'm a certified engineer, that’s how I got to build this myself.” Removing the leather, he revealed his mechanical limb to you, wiggling his fingers.
It was fancier than you ever thought a mechanical hand could be. Black with touches of gold; it was elegant and sophisticated, way more advanced than any technology you had ever seen in the orthopedics research field. And you knew it well, your mom was an orthopedic surgeon.
It was no surprise to him that after spilling that last fact you were now shamelessly grinding on his half-hard. The fact that he was an engineering mastermind was such an aphrodisiac. And as much as he wanted to have another taste of your full, pink lips, the ones he often imagined enveloped around his dick while you scolded him, Anakin wasn’t willing to make the first move.
You were going to have to beg for it.
“Anakin?” Your hands flattened on his pecs, back arching when he cupped your cheek with the cool durasteel prosthetic, kneading against it with soft eyes. He must have noticed how captivated you were by his invention.
“Yeah, baby?” He continued the soft ministrations up and down your cheek, redirecting your gaze to his face whenever your eyes would deviate to his artificial limb.
“You- Uhm, you built it from scratch?” You gulped when his thumb inched closer to your mouth, rubbing your bottom lip and pulling it open.
Little obedient you put no resistance, and instead, stuck out your wet tongue to happily receive his digit into your warmness. But this time it was his index, the one you were bobbing your head into, eye contact not faltering even when you were practically giving oral to his hand. Anakin smiled pleased at your enthusiasm for pleasuring him and added another finger for you to lubricate.
“From scratch.” He nodded, lustful irises boring into you. “Designed it too.”
You moaned around him, feeling content with being sandwiched between his firm torso and your desk, and with your mouth being fucked by his fingers. Saliva smeared all over your chin, you whined pitifully when your lips were no longer stuffed. On the contrary of leaving you all hot and bothered, Anakin lowered those same fingers to your leaky cunt, pushing your underwear aside for easy access.
He groaned when he first inserted a finger, your gasping a sign for him to slow down. “Baby, you’re tight.” He seemed to love that about you.
After adjusting to the size of his strong index finger, Anakin breached in with his middle one, repeating the process of you getting used to the coldness and girth all over.
“A-Anakin.” You closed your eyes, involuntarily standing on your tippy toes.
“That’s right, you’re doing so well. Taking my fingers like a true champ.” He bit down a condescending smile. “Atta girl.”
The initial discomfort was just a milestone you had to overcome to succumb to the pleasure that it was being fucked by Anakin Skywalker’s metal hand. His frigid thumb came to roll over your bundle of nerves, helping you relax into him and enjoy the sensation of fully riding his hand.
“That’s it. Fuck my hand just like that, kitten.” He chuckled, finding a spot on your neck to latch on, leave a little souvenir of your encounter, and hide his pitiful laugh.
Kisses were peppered along your exposed throat, your clavicle and jaw, his long eyelashes tickling you and making you clench around his metal hand tighter. Whilst you worried about not whining too loud for anyone to enter the library, Anakin was pumping his fingers at such an unholy pace to complicate your task.
“Shhh, baby. You need to be quiet. Wouldn’t like for anyone to come in. You could lose your job.” He mocked with a side smile and you had to gripped his bicep to keep your balance. “Could you imagine? Getting caught having sex at work? With a Jedi?”
You could perceive that the trespassing of the pseudo-celibacy Jedi code was turning him to no end, the mischievous glimmer in his eyes getting stronger when he said the last sentence.
“W-We’re not having sex.” You corrected him, like it mattered. Like having him knuckles deep into you was somehow less frowned-upon than to have actual coitus.
That made him laugh and you wiggled underneath him, fighting to not let your tears fall.
“You just wait.” His lips ghosted over yours, his breath fanning over your heated face. The increase of the movements of his hand was a sign that he had noticed the contractions around his digits, fully aware that you were close. “Ready to come, baby? Gonna gush all over me?”
You nodded, biting your swollen lip, losing the battle against your tear duct. Anakin used his other thumb, the one that was not torturing your clit, to liberate your abused lip. His mouth lowered to capture yours in a hot kiss, this tongue sliding on your inside until it hit your throat. So deep into you that you would never forget his taste; so deep you will never be able to deny him.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You whimpered against his smile when you reached your peak, dissolving into this meaningless mass between his arms. “Anakin…” You rode out your climax, still rocking your hips to prolong the pleasure.
Anakin waited until you regained some composure to help you fix your clothes, putting back your underwear as he found it and lowering your skirt. His actions had you frowning: Weren’t you two gonna fuck? You were already mentally prepared to welcome his enormous cock in your tiny canal.
He grinned at your puppy eyes and adorable pout, your flustered state funnier than it should be. It was almost enough to break him. But someone had to give you a lesson.
“At the end of the day, I’m just a soldier, Y/n. An incompetent one, according to you.”
Before you could protest that, he was tilting his head in an accusatory manner. Like saying: Don’t even try it. And before leaving with his head high, he spat:
“My apologies if that’s not fancy enough for you, ma’am.”
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I’ll follow you until you love me.
The moment Eddie Munson saw you, he thought you were perfect and once he finds your social media, it gives him insight into your world. But he can’t get enough of you. Eddie can’t stop himself from acting on his desire to follow you. Eddie is determined to make you his. But maybe he’s not as subtle as he thinks.
This is my installment of a shared universe with a mutual. Who will be writing her installment of this universe soon.
Warnings! Smut! 18plus only! Stalker! Eddie. Obsession. Oral! Fem recieving! Unprotected PnV! Fem reader is alternative/goth in this. Eddie is a Bartender. I’m sick and I edited once so if you saw mistakes ignore them.
Eddie knew he was breaking some sort of code. But he couldn’t find it in himself to stop. He was…addicted. You weren’t even friends. Friendly at best. He knew you for only a couple of weeks. Your parents owned his favorite music store and he was sorting through the collection of Black Sabbath CDs when he saw you for the first time in the same aisle.
He immediately fell for you. Everything about you was perfect. Your body. Your face. Your clothes. Your voice. Eddie was completely mesmerized when you both had a conversation about why CDs were essential to the music listening experience. It took everything in him not to kiss you and ruin your pretty lipstick.
As soon as he was alone in his van, he yanked out his phone. Typed in your name and hunted for any sign of accounts you had. He didn’t even use his social media but you would be the exception. You were everything. After several minutes, he finally found your pretty picture. He sighed and leaned back in the seat.
It was your instagram. And in your bio you listed your tik tok, twitter and even your Facebook. Jackpot. Eddie’s eyes scanned over your uploads, his breathing getting heavier. It was almost as if he had a taste of your life. Your world.
The whole week in between his shift at work and when he came home, he devoured everything you posted. He watched every video you reposted, he needed to know your humor, your likes, your dislikes. He couldn’t tear himself away from looking at you.
One night, you posted your work schedule for the next week at the music store. And that’s when he decided he needed to see you again.
His shift ended at the Hawkins bar two hours after he originally planned because some fuckwad didn’t know how to show up on time. The music store would only be open for another hour so he raced to his van and probably broke three laws speeding to the building.
He speedily parked, exited and practiced in his head what he would say. He needs a copy of the band you liked Bad Omens. You posted about them all the time. Eddie needed the physical copy. Something you both talked about so it wouldn’t be weird if he asked for a disc. He inhaled and pushed open the door, glancing around as the bell rung. A collection of people were here, he tried to keep his cool. The CDS. His hair was tied into a bun and he wore all black just like you always did. He shook his head and confidently strides to the shelves.
It was different. More organized. All the decades were correct. Everything was straightened. You had the magic touch. Eddie smiled when his fingers grazed over the plastic, you had touched these. He saw Bad omens right away, but he came here for help. He purposely took a step back and wore a confused expression.
“Eddie?” There. There you were. His cock twitched. Goosebumps rose on his skin. He didn’t turn right away, no. You wouldn’t get it that easy. As badly as he wanted to turn around and-
Your hand gently grazed his shoulder. He wanted to rip off his leather jacket to feel your fingers on his bare skin and his breath shuddered. Finally, he shifted in your direction. Eddie almost kissed you. He had to plant his feet heavily on the floor to prevent himself. Your eyes were soft, searching his brown irises. Small crinkles around your brows showed hours of work but your mouth was curved into a polite, curious smile. You wore all black, a bad omens shirt, leggings and boots. A small name tag was right above your heart. You looked perfect. But he focused on your lipstick, the same you wore that first day. He wanted to smear your makeup. Make it run down your face while you were on your knees. He wanted to grip your hair and guide you through-
“It is Eddie, right? Don’t tell me I forgot.” He jerked his head.
“Yes. It’s Eddie. I’m glad you’re here. I’m in serious need of a music recommendation,” Eddie internally melted when you flashed him a grin.
“Well, I’m happy to assist you. I’m assuming you want this in the form of a CD?” You gave him a knowing look.
He clapped his hands. “ You remembered that. Yes. Always.” You giggled and you extended your hand towards the collection of CDs on the shelves.
“What sound are you looking for? I know you like metal. But do you want a classic recommendation, something underrated or unknown?” You sounded so considerate. You were doing your job, he knew that. But he clung to whatever interest you gave him.
“Honestly, what are you listening too? I want something different. You can only listen to so much Metallica and Black Sabbath,” Eddie dramatically pressed a finger to his lips. “Don’t tell anyone I said that.”
You nodded in kind. “Your secret is safe with me. But I can’t believe you’re actually asking for my opinion.”
“Why? I mean, I’d assume someone who shares my appreciation for metal has great taste.” He saw you from the corner of his eye, you dip your head down for a second. He needed to pace this conversation, withhold what he knows. He just needs to keep hearing your voice. He was almost trembling from the way you were accepting his attempts at charm.
“I mean-If I’m being honest. My favorite band is Bad Omens.” Eddie raised his eyebrows and nodded towards your shirt. His shoulders relaxed. Finally. This was how it went in his head.
“I haven’t listened to them. I’ve seen them on tik tok, but I just haven’t dived in.” He hoped you believed his lie.
“Excuse me?” You both turned and a older man stood at the entrance. Wearing a guns and roses shirt and light blue jeans. “I need help.”
Eddie’s chest burned. No, no, no. He just got you talking. You face him with a shadow of disappointment dancing across your features. He wanted to scream at the man but he had to stay calm. He couldn’t risk you seeing him differently. You didn’t hardly know him.
Yet.
“I’m sorry, Eddie. Gotta help him. But the CD is right there, and if you ring the bell someone will check you out. It was nice seeing you! I hope you like it!”
He was struggling to bury his anger even long after he paid for the album and made his way home. Eddie paced his room. You. You were so beautiful. So sweet. He wanted to keep listening to you talk. He wanted to know every single band you loved. He wanted-no, he needed more of you. He dug his phone out of his pocket.
Settling on his bed, knees spread apart, his thump quickly found your profile. You had so many followers. So many people watching, commenting and sharing with you online. He clenched his jaw when he looked at your story. Eddie blinked at the loud music attached. You had a closed lipped smile and your eyes were shut. And the caption talked about how much you hated rude customers. But then he recognized the song. It was Bad Omens.
He chewed his bottom lip. Was that because of him? Were you thinking about him? The same way he thought of you? He turned up the volume. Listened carefully. Was this song on the album he bought? He picked up the bag and yanked out the plastic, reading the song list on the back . Yes. It was. Eddie pressed the CD against his chest. You touched it. He brought it higher, over his chin until his lips pressed against it. He held it against his mouth, while he stared at your photo.
Eddie had memorized your work schedule. Maybe he could stop by again tomorrow. Fuck, he couldn’t. He had to work and It was too soon. You would be confused.
He couldn’t fit anymore CDs on his shelf but he would fucking build a new one if that meant he could buy more from you.
The next day he was in his car. Parked across the street with a few cars giving distance from the music store. He didn’t plan it. He was going into work in a hour. But He just needed to see you. Just look at you. That’s it. A death of Peace of mind album was playing in his van and his jaw was clenching so hard from waiting for you to step out. He had fell asleep with his phone on his chest from frantically scrolling on your profile last night.
He didn’t know how his resolution disappeared so quickly. But he couldn’t stop thinking about how sweet you were. How quickly his conversation with you ended. He couldn’t stand it. He needed more. Eddie’s breathing shortened when the entrance opened and you stepped out. You adjusted your bag, shuffled to close the door behind you and cast your search around the direction of the street.
He gripped the steering wheel, so hard his hands trembled as you moved aside for a stranger. You smiled brightly then you started to walk in the opposite direction. His eyes trailed down your body. Black jeans, black hoodie and converse. They lingered on the curve of your thighs in those pants. But he frowned. Were you walking home? You didn’t have a car?
Without a second thought, he turned the keys. In the back of his mind, he knew he was going overboard. He had work. He needed to leave. Soon. But god damn he just needed to make sure you got home safe. His van came alive and he maneuvered onto the street. There was a stop light coming, and he sped up to try and beat it before it turned red. He didn’t know how he would remain invisible as he followed you, but he had to try.
Eddie wasn’t sure how he managed, but you didn’t turn to see his van. Your apartment wasn’t far from the store thank fuck. He settled across the street, behind two cars. The same tactic he used earlier. You jogged up the driveway, where there wasnt a car. His suspicions confirmed. The complex wasn’t big, it looked similar to his own.
He glanced at the clock. He needed to get going. He hated being late. But your address was seared into his mind. He would never forget it. Eddie pulled out his phone, frantically clicking on your instagram. You had a new story. You were smiling, an adorable grin and your fingers were held in a peace sign. The caption said you were finally home. He wanted to help you relax. Spread your legs and make you see stars and never think about a stressful day again.
His dick was growing hard as he imagined your sweet face. Covered in his cum. Your eyeliner running down your cheeks. His hand ghosted the center of his pants before he stopped.
No. No he wouldn’t touch himself. He needed you. He needed to cum inside you. You deserved better than him jerking off in his car before he had the privilege of being with you. Eddie exhaled, forcing himself to drive.
The night shift was always packed. Plus as the manager, he was responsible for training and handling reckless drinkers. His hair was tied up, his usual style for his shift and his sleeves were rolled up, muscles flexing as he slid a glass to a guest. But his mind was a whirlwind. He hadn’t been able to check his phone. What were you doing? Were you relaxing? He was buzzing with energy. He hadn’t even told Steve about you yet, who apparently was busy with his own infatuation. Eddie kept looking at the clock. He had to stay over again but closing was coming soon. Halloween was in just a few days. What were you going to do? Dress up? Go to a party? Fuck, he needed to know.
He had fucking fell asleep before he had a chance to look at your instagram when he got home well after 3am. He crashed on his couch, still wearing his work clothes with his phone in his pocket where it died. Eddie practically shoved the end of the charger into his phone, his leg bouncing from waiting for it to turn back on. He knew he should have charged it. Now, it would take longer to see you.
He wanted to touch himself as he imagined your lips wrapped around him, choking on his dick as his hand is gripping your hair. His hand even drifted to his crotch until he stopped himself. No, he promised himself he wouldn’t cum until it was inside you. You were his. He checked his phone again as it finally came back to life. His fingers were frantic as they clicked on your name.
You uploaded a new story. Eddie sighed in relief. As it came up, your face looked tired. You weren’t smiling, instead you were holding up a glass, clinking it with another glass belonging to your best friend. His chest tightened. He wanted to be there. He wanted to drink with you, hold you and take care of you. You had to walk home. And he had to fucking work. He swiped to the next story.
It was this morning, he knew only because of the time included. Just an hour ago. You were smiling this time. It was your day off and you were thrilled to to go the Halloween store today. Eddie couldn’t stop looking at your bright eyes, the excitement and he needed to see it again. In person.
He had to try. He would go the store. Pretend he was looking for a Halloween costume. But when? You didn’t give a time. It didn’t matter. He would stay all day and wait. It was his day off too.
Eddie threw himself in the shower, got dressed and drove to the store. It didn’t matter if it was an hour away. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t planned dressing up, or that he would have to swap schedules. You were on his mind. Whatever you were doing, he wanted to be a part of it.
Bad omens played loudly in his van as he came into the parking lot. Eddie’s heart started to hammer as he unbuckled and stepped out. His neck was warm at the thought of hearing your voice again so he tied his hair up.
Opening the door, he was greeted with gruesome decor, rows of costumes and several people shopping. Fuck, how was he supposed to find you? If you were even here yet? His shoe tapped impatiently as he was torn on where to go. Costumes. That’s where he’d start. But what kind? Sexy? Scary? in between?
As he walked down the section, he pretended to search. His rings occasionally getting caught in the fabrics and plastic. He wasn’t interested in this. He didn’t want to participate without you. Oh god, who drove you here? Were you going to be alone? He didn’t think about that. He just moved. Eddie dug out his phone from his pocket.
“Hey, Eddie! Is that you?”
He froze.
Eddie turned around and there you were.
This time, you were wearing a dress. A black one. With a matching sweater and combat boots. But his eyes fell to the tattoo on your chest. He hadn’t seen it because you always wore higher neck tops. Eddie almost salivated. Your makeup was dark again with your apparent favorite lipstick. He wanted to touch your skin, run his tongue along the art. He knew you would taste sweet. So sweet.
“Yeah, it’s me.” Eddie dropped into a serious expression. “Are you following me?”
Your eyes widened and you shook your head. “No, I just saw you-“ Then he grinned. He knew he was such a tease.
“I’m joking, sweets. I’m just here for my Halloween costume.” Such a fucking lie. But he needed to establish a common ground.
You sighed in relief.
“Me too. We had the same idea.” You didn’t protest at the nickname. Eddie tried not to smirk. You were happy to see him. He had to ball his fists to keep from touching you.
“What are you going as? I haven’t decided.” Eddie forced himself to sound light hearted but he truly needed an idea. You set the stage on his actions.
You gestured, “Follow me and I’ll show you.”
And then you stuck out your hand. Eddie thought he would bust in his pants. He accepted as you gently guided him to the other side of the store, where a large amount of costumes were hanging on the wall. Your grip was firm, warm and steady. You were confident in taking his hand. Eddie’s eyes were glued to your lower half, covered by the fitted dress. Your calves peeked out from the slits on the side. He saw more ink. How many tattoos did you have? He wanted to explore them. Compare them to his. You came to a stop and released him. Eddie wanted to stop you, grab your hand again.
“I’m going with this,” You pointed to the hanging plastic bag and Eddie followed direction.
The picture was a Sweeney Todd costume. Fake blood included and wig. It would be hot. You could pull off anything. But the wig he wanted to protest against. Covering your perfect hair? The hair he wanted to dig his fingers in and pull? Caress? Both? “That’s a great one. I think you’ll stand out. Not everyone knows that reference.”
You smiled again. Eddie felt like he won the lottery. “I like to stand out from the crowd, I guess. My best friend is throwing a Halloween party this year. And I finally had the day off to come here.” Eddie nodded, swallowing the urge to reveal he already knew that.
“I hope you’re not working too hard but I can’t stop listening to the CD. You knew exactly what I needed.” Your hands reached up, pressing against your chest. “You really like it? I’m not used to someone actually agreeing with me.” Eddie couldn’t believe that. Who could resist you? Who wouldn’t give your favorite band a try? He would fix that problem.
“Why wouldn’t I like it, sweets? I’ll have to get more recommendations soon, it makes my driving more exciting.” You opened your mouth to respond but something caught your eye and you excitedly beamed.
Eddie turned, desperate to find what caught your attention other than him.
“That’s my favorite slasher movie! If I hadn’t already decided on this, I would wear that.” Eddie’s eyes widened. It was a Ghostface costume. Why didn’t he know that? He ground his teeth. He should have looked closer at your posts. Maybe he would have seen it. You had amazing taste in movies.
“An amazing movie. That would have also been a perfect choice. But I’m not sure anyone could be scared of you, pretty girl. You’re way too sweet.” The names slipped out his mouth before he could catch himself. But you dipped your head and bashfully peeked at him through your lashes.
He couldn’t believe this was happening. He itched to say more, compliment you more but he didn’t want to freak you out. Especially considering he watched your instagram everyday to know exactly what you were doing but he needed you. He would do whatever he needed to make you feel the same way.
Your phone started to ring. Eddie wanted to beg you not to answer. No, stay here in the moment. You sighed, holding the device up. “It’s my dad. I need to take this. But I hope I’ll see you at the store again! And maybe we can talk more. You really get me.” And then you turned away, quietly speaking to your father.
Each time he managed to speak to you, get somewhere, it was interrupted. But this wouldn’t be wasted. No. Eddie moved away from you, as painful as it was and quickly picked up the Ghostface costume. He didn’t know how he would make this work but god damn it he would.
Eddies emotions went beyond his limit when he was hunched over, phone glued to his hand as he poured over your story on his bed when he got home. Your stories consisted of showing off the costume you bought and then several memes about Halloween being everyday for you. And then you posted your old looks. Most of them were edgy, skulls, prosthetics and some were even masks. Except one. You were wearing a short, thigh high black dress. Fishnets and heels. Your face painted with the Crow makeup. Your chest ink and your leg tattoos were on display.
The intricate thorns that wrapped around both thighs but on the left center was a large showing of multiple flowers. On the right was a skull, jaw slightly open to allow a dark snake to wrap around.
His cock felt like it was going to burst but he would not give in. He just didn’t know what to do. How would he get into the party? Sneak in? He was going insane.
And that’s when Steve hit him up. When Eddie answered the phone, Steve proceeded to explain that there was a Halloween party at a penthouse. And the owner just so happened to be your best friend.
Eddie thanked whatever universe, energy or even a God if he even bothered to look at him considering what he was doing. It was Halloween night. He wore the long, black gown. A black shirt and jeans underneath. Heavy boots. Most importantly, the Mask. Steve charmed the security, getting them both inside. The lights were off only to be be replaced with LED strips covering the edges of the wall and even the ceiling.
The living room was spacious, modern furniture and sleek tables covered in red cups, beer bottles and liquor bottles. He squinted his eyes, his vision obscured by the mask. No one paid much attention to him, most people had some sort of horror film costume, he wasn’t the only Ghostface. Fuck. How would you tell it was him? He did all of this for you. Music blared, he could feel it in his chest as he walked around the penthouse. Stepping on decorations fallen to the wood floor.
Steve left his side but Eddie knew he was looking for the hostess of this party. Where were you?
There.
His breath hitched and he froze in the doorway of the kitchen. You were pouring a drink in a solo cup. Your costume was perfect. The white puffed sleeves, black vest and striped pants. Fake blood coated your hands, darkening your fingernails. You weren’t wearing a wig, instead you had the signature white streak in your hair. Good. You didn’t need the wig. He opened his mouth to talk but you turned and started walking into the next room.
No. No. Why did he take so fucking long? He was here right now. He used so much effort to be close to you. Eddie took a steadying breath. And he walked directly behind you, he kept trying to tap your shoulder but you were quick. Nearly jogging. His boots hit against the floor, growing louder from speed. You maneuvered through the crowd. Where you going? He almost lost you but you started climbing the stairs where more cobwebs and pumpkins sat.
Were you running from him? From someone else? Was your best friend up here? His mind raced with endless options as he continued prowling behind you. No one was here. He almost slammed into you as you abruptly halted.
You spun around.
“Eddie, why are you following me?” Oh, fuck.
Up close, your makeup was messy. Eyeliner smudged heavily, your lips were dark and glossy. You looked up at him through lashes. But you didn’t sound angry. Or fearful.
You sounded…playful.
He tilted his head. “I was-“
“It’s okay, Eddie. I know you’ve been following me. I know every time you look at my pictures. I knew that you followed me home. And it wasn’t an accident at the store the other day. I was hoping you would buy this.” You reached over, grasping the material of the cloak between your fingers.
Eddie grew hot. He thought he could be subtle but apparently not. You knew the whole time. But why weren’t you upset? He didn’t want you to be. But that would have been naive.
He clutched your hand. “I couldn’t help it. You’re perfect. The moment I saw you, I knew I needed you. I needed to see you, make sure you were safe. I can’t get you out of my mind. Fuck. And I just wanted to be here tonight to finally talk to you without being interrupted. All I’ve done is listen to the album you love. I know you said you weren’t mad but please, god I need you. I need to feel you. I need to-“
“Fuck me?” You finished. “Did you touch yourself while looking at me, Eddie?”
He was buzzing, ignited from the way your lips were in a smirk. You stepped closer and with your free hand, you removed his mask. His hair was even messier and his nostrils flared as he took in your perfume.
He was almost against the wall but he couldn’t take it. Eddie’s hands gripped your hips and he smashed his lips to yours. You tasted better than he imagined. And you met his intensity. Eddie flipped so you were the one pinned against the wall, diving his tongue inside your mouth. His cock was so hard it hurt and he pressed his pelvis against yours, grinding into you. A moan escaped your mouth and he reached down, grasping your knee and pulling it around his hip. He could feel how wet you were through your pants.
Eddie ripped away from your mouth, moving to concentrate to the soft skin of your neck when you grabbed him by his arm and burst through a door he didn’t notice was there. He only had time to register a bed in the center of the room before you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pulled his bottom lip with your teeth. “I wanted you the first day you came in,” You murmured. Eddie pushed your back against the bed, landing him on top of you and he straddled your lap.
“I-can I-can I fuck you?” He had to ask, as frenzied as he felt, he needed you to want it as much as he did.
“Fuck, Eddie. Yes, I want it so bad.” You whined, arching your back into him as he buried his face in your neck, peppering kisses against your jaw before sucking the spot above your collar bone.
You tore off the cloak, before taking off his black shirt with it and running your hands down his chest, stomach before tugging his belt. Eddie lifted his head, helping you as he kicked off his jeans. But he wanted to taste you. He slid down, peeling off your tight pants and your underwear. Eddie got impossibly harder as you mewled as he separated your legs.
Your cunt dripped with arousal and he spread it apart, coating his thick fingers. He dove in, flattening his tongue against your clit. Eddie moaned at your sweet taste as he licked down your slit before slipping his tongue inside you. You were jerking your hips to hump his face, his nose continually hitting the sensitive nerves in the center.
“I’m gonna cum.” Eddie didn’t speed up, he stayed hungrily lapping your pussy and your movement locked, your thighs squeezing his head. The entire lower half of his face was glistening as he pulled away.
Eddie crawled over you and captured your lips in a bruising kiss. Smearing cum all over your mouth, messing your lipstick even further. Just like he imagined.
“Please, fuck me.” You whimpered and he clumsily took off his boxers, releasing his heavy cock leaking with precum.
Eddie lined his dick against you before pressing inside, stretching your pussy as you clenched around him. He groaned from deep in his chest and shuddered. Your nails dug into his skin as he started thrusting, deep and hard. The bed was slamming against the wall.
“Fuck, you’re so fucking perfect, baby.”
He couldn’t even speak anymore, you felt so good he saw stars and he loved the pain from you scratching him. “I’m-I’m close.”
He wanted to hold off for you but the way you cried out, burying your face on his shoulder, Eddie spilled into you. Fuck condoms, he thought. His breath came in choked pants as he pulled out and scooped you into his arms. He was completely naked and you only had a shirt on, that he planned on removing once he caught his breath.
“I can’t believe you knew the whole time. And I can’t believe you liked me back.”
Your head turned as he held you close to him, his arms tight around you. He never wanted to let you go. Now that he’s tasted you, he could never stop.
“Eddie, why do you think I let you follow my account? Why do you think I told you to listen to bad omens? I wanted you to think about me. Besides, your friend Steve pulling the same move on my best friend.”
Holy shit. My first Eddie fic. I’m back with fics! Huge thanks to my tumblr wife @xxhellfirebunnyxx for helping me with this, encouraging me and beta reading. And my little sister @scene-and-dandylover for always supporting me.
Taglist for this!
@reidsbtch @battymunson @take-everything-you-can @ifeeltoofuckingmuch @taintandviolent @hyperharlz @elaine-in-the-membrane @onegirlmanytales @randominstake
If I forgot about have mercy I am tired
#eddie munson series#eddie munson x fem!reader#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson fanfic#eddie x fem!reader#eddie munson x you#Stalker! eddie#eddie smut
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I saw this from the female separatism subreddit & the responses are some of the biggest reasons for separatism et al (or extinction if I'm being candid here). Moids cant be reformed they are fully aware of the hell they force women to live in. MaIe achievement & happiness is rooted in female exploitation & life. Their glory days are based on our horrific days. No amount of love, kindness or facts will change maIes and we cannot happily or even neutrally coexist with them.
Main points across answers:
Many want to experiment but not permanently be women
They dont want to be in constant danger or lose their autonomy at the hands of maIes for merely existing
They dont want to deal with childbirth (& periods)
They dont want to have to share spaces with species much stronger than them with ulterior motives
It makes me go crazy seeing people give moids benefit of doubt for their evil like "maIes just dont understand", "we need to teach maIes", or claiming that maIe violence is a result of maIes struggling with (expressing) their feelings. I get that women love maIes and it can be hard to imagine that people can intentionally be so evil but it is what it is. MaIes have no problems expressing themselves, abusing women is what maIes choose to do because they enjoy & benefit from it - that is their expression.
MaIes see the same news of women being abused, raped, and killed like we do except rather than be disheartened or alarmed they're either apathetic or satisfied. It isn't aliens that's committing GBV it's maIes & maIes have no problem reminding women of this when women anger them (such as rape threats & threatening women they'll end up on the news/true crime). The victim blaming, denial, and derailment of misogyny is part of the game to keep the system alive, they know the events occured & are a systemic occurence they just dont care. Hell not only do they not care, they rejoice in it or get off on it.
MaIes set up environments that work in their favour which simultaneously ensures that women will lose. They know women are set up to live in damn near impossible conditions for us. It's normalised for women to defenselessly share personal & private spaces with beings much more stronger than them with ulterior motives for us, it's trap. It's interesting how these moids aren't saying that they'll just cover up and *poof* harrassment gone, or they'll just pick a nice guy & they'll be okay. MaIes know the net negative they are towards women.
MaIes know that childbirth is a painful process & what do they do? Demand it happens and make it even MORE painful for women. MaIes that impregnate women do not love or care for them. Pregnancy itself is dangerous & sometimes lethal, often comes with a range of health issues, to cause someone to be in that condition especially in a environment where abortions are illegal is reckless & unloving. Now imagine how sinister & full of hatred one has to be to impregnate someone and abuse them on top of that. Many women risk their health & lives to reproduce with a Y and they get abused by said Y instead of being taken care of. Deranged.
Realising that maIes are aware of the evil they inflict is one of the things that radicalised me. It isn't a miscommunication or ignorance issue, their violence is intended. They want control. The cruelty is the point. Instead of wasting time & energy trying to change maIes or hope that they "understand" one day, focus on yourself & other women (who prioritise women). Moids aren't oblivious to female pain they enjoy it. A lot of women treat maIe evil like it's a mistake on maIes part but it's calculated terrorism. I know that this will go over many womens heads as they refuse to hold strong negative sentiments about moids as a collective so if you're not a woman like that, take this post as a sanity check. You aren't crazy, it isn't all in your head.
#Will women listen to any of this? Nope. But I will still speak anyways.#I say all of this as an osawoman so attraction is not an excuse. The time for reconciliation & reform has long gone.#And stop fucking creating more maIes ffs#While many women are under the impression that moids are clueless about our oppression; some want to believe so bc they dont want to come#to terms with evil moids actually are. Because if you want to reproduce or have a positive relationship w/ moids theres no way you can#consciously do that bearing in mind what moids are so many women push it away. Anyways#blackpill feminism#blackpill feminist#female separatism#female separatist#males know what they're doing they just dont care#radical feminism#radical feminist#feminism#moids are terrorists#feminist
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A Word of Advice About Critique Groups, Beta Readers, and Other Peer-Based Feedback on Your Writing
In my time as a professional editor, I've had many writers come to me with stories they've been trying to improve based on suggestions from critique groups, beta readers, or other non-professional feedback sources (friends, family, etc.). The writers are often frustrated because they don't agree with the feedback, they can't make sense of the comments they've gotten, or they've tried their best to implement the suggestions but now they've made a big mess of things and don't know where to go from here.
If this happens to you, you're not alone. Here's the deal.
Readers and beginning writers are great at sniffing out problems, but they can be terrible at recommending solutions. For that reason, critique groups can be a disastrous place for beginning writers to get advice.
Here's a good metaphor. Imagine you don’t know the first thing about cars. Someone tells you, “There’s oil leaking onto the driveway. You should cover the car with a giant garbage bag.” Alarmed, you oblige, only to be told the next day that “now the car smells like burning plastic and I can’t see out the windows.”
A mechanic would’ve listened to the critic’s complaint and come up with their own solution to the leaking oil, ignoring the amateur’s ridiculous idea, because they know how to fix cars and can use their skills to investigate symptoms and find the correct solution.
Critique groups actually aren’t bad places for experienced writers, because they can listen to the criticism, interpret it, and come up with their own remedies to the problems readers are complaining about. Beginning writers, on the other hand, can end up digging themselves into a deeper hole.
There's a great Neil Gaiman quote about this very conundrum:
Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.
So what to do?
First, try to investigate the reader's complaint and come up with your own solution, instead of taking their solution to the problem. Sometimes, in the end, the reader's solution was exactly right, which is lovely, but don't count on it. Do your own detective work.
Second, take everything you hear with a huge grain of salt, and run the numbers. Are 9 out of 10 readers complaining about your rushed ending? It's probably worth investigating. Does nobody have an issue with your abrasive antagonist except your cozy mystery-loving uncle? Then you might not need to worry about it.
Third, give everything you hear a gut check. Does the criticism, while painful, ring true? Or does it seem really off-base to you? Let the feedback sit for a week or so while you chill out. You might find you're less sensitive and open to what's been said after a little more time has passed.
Lastly, consider getting professional feedback on your writing. Part of my job as an editor is to listen to previous feedback the writer has gotten, figure out whether the readers were tracking the scent of legitimate problems, and offer the writer more coherent solutions. Of course, some professional editors aren't very good at this, just like some non-professional readers are amazing at it, so hiring someone isn't a guarantee. But editors usually have more experience taking a look under the hood and giving writers sound mechanical advice about their work, rather than spouting ideas off the top of their head that only add to the writer's confusion.
Hope this helps!
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DP X DC PROMPT #25
(#) = Notes at the end of post
(*) = Just me building off of other ideas.
✦
Family Reunion
Clockwork sends an adult Danny, newly appointed Ancient of Space, on a mission through time again. Except this time, it isn't located on Earth, but a distant planet he's never even heard of before. Clockwork didn't tell him any specifics on what he was supposed to do or when he was supposed to return to his own time, just to blend in and have an experience. He would know when it was time to return.
Needless to say, he has a blast! His core is bursting with happiness at getting the chance to explore this unknown corner of the universe with a sky full of constellations he's never seen and fascinating locals. Considering he might be here a while, he buckles down and learns all about their culture and their traditions and even eventually learns their language without having to use the two-way translator Clockwork gave him.
He spends decades there, not even having to worry about how he never appears to age, the people here being incredibly long-lived. However, he eventually meets someone. Someone he falls head over heels for. He gets married. He has kids. He watches them slowly grow into adults as well. It isn't until one of his sons informs him that he's expecting his own child(1) that Danny feels a tug at his core.
He ignores it, but over the course of a few weeks, it's gone from the occasional pull to a full-on yank at his entire being, along with a sense of dread that something was going to happen to this wonderful little planet. To his family.
He becomes restless and loses so much sleep, it's a miracle he can even stand. His family are worried for him, but he assures them that he's just feeling a little under the weather. One night, he's sat up in bed, unable to sleep again. His gaze is fixed lovingly on his spouse, but nonetheless sad.
He doesn't miss when all the soft sounds of the night stop and a green glow appears behind him.
"It's time to leave, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"There isn't any way I could stay? I can't bring them with me?"
"I'm afraid not. There are some things that can't be changed or stopped, even when they fall into your domain. I'm sorry."
"Why send me here just to make me abandon them like this? What was the point?"
Clockwork is silent, but when Danny turns to look at the ghost, he's gone.
Danny takes a few more precious days to spend time with his family. Kiss his spouse. Hug his kids. Feel the strong kicks of his grandchild he won't be there to witness the birth of.
The night he leaves, he places a letter on his spouse's nightstand, gently kisses their forehead, and disappears in a flash of green, never to be seen again.
Years later is when Danny gets the news. That the planet Krypton is no more and that his family is gone. He searched the Ghost Zone for them, but he never knew the location of Krypton in the cosmos. Their afterlife is beyond his reach, in a place that isn't even on the Infamap.
He nearly drowns himself in grief when he finds a sliver of reprieve in the form of a news broadcast. An extraordinary man in blue and red with the kryptonian symbol for such emblazoned on his chest is shown fighting off multiple enemies at once. He is the spitting image of his father and Danny as well.
He had a grandson. His grandson was alive.
✦
(1) This was Kara, not Clark. Danny left before he even found out about Kal-El being in the oven, so there will be a misunderstanding at first. Then Kara pops up later, and Danny just bawls his eyes out that he had two surviving grandchildren without even knowing it this whole time. How he first meets either of them is up to you!
(*) What this means power-wise for Clark is yours to decide. As well as what Clark already knows about his grandfather from the stored information his father left him. What his father thought of Danny disappearing without a word is also up for you to decide.
#dp x dc#dc x dp#danny gets sent on a mystery mission by clockwork#he gets sent to krypton#he settles down and has a family#even started to consider krypton his true home#until it was yanked away from him without explanation#danny and clockwork's relationship is a bit rocky after krypton is destroyed.#he learns part of his family is still alive#superman is his grandson#kara is his granddaughter#clockwork needed to ensure that two of the most powerful heroes would be born#trying to help ensure Earth had its next generation of heroes to defend it#danny still doesn't like you right now clockwork#danny phantom crossover#dp x dc crossover#dp x dc prompt#dpxdc#writing prompt#prompt#sleepy writes stuff
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