#just fuckin tired like everyone else
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“I’ll be fine i just need to uhhhhhhh idk kill” but like…what if i did haha
#my stuff#dear diary and the several thousand mfs who can see it. Despite arguably good academic performance today feels like a bad day#bc i skipped lab to take a nap#and i feel lonely and incapable of connecting more than superficially with my classmates#like i can talk to them and i do and we get along well but i never…hang out w em#or at least not as much as they seem to without me#it’s not a malicious thing i think a huge part of it is groups of ppl living or working in the same space#and i’m in a different lab building than a lot of ppl#idk…struggling to find anything that sparks joy. unable to see the future with optimism#it’s just day after day of Job where i’ll beat myself up on weekends if i don’t do Even More Work#bc that’s the nature of grad school. always homework or literature review to do like i give a shit abt the latter#i don’t care what other people are doing i don’t wanna obsessively comb through journals to make sure i’m doing Brand New Shit#i want it to stop#i don’t want to read anymore. i don’t wanna have to worry about my job outside of work.#i want to cry and scream and#like i don’t wanna quit after i worked so hard to get here#i don’t wanna wuss out#but i’m always tired. i’m never rested or relaxed or truly enjoying myself#why is this only hard for me…how tf is everyone else able to read and remember and understand this much??#like yeah maybe i should be on adhd meds but those are fuckin spensive and a pain in the ass to get#i’m tired of being tough#i want to curl into a ball and be told it’s going to be okay and that i can rest and have it not be a lie or a half measure
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Love having to help hold everyone else’s lives together but the second I’m struggling and need help then I’m too needy and being a problem
#god just once I want what I put into a person given back in return#I schedule and plan everything I make meals for everyone and drive people around#my whole life it’d always be my job to clean my brothers room and even now I’m the one that keeps others shit clean instead of themselves#and I really wouldn’t mind if any of it was returned#or at the very least don’t make me feel like shit#or like I give people rides but don’t get gas money and I make meals but no help paying for the groceries to make the food#and I can’t afford to sustain myself much less someone else#and I’m so tired#I work all the fuckin time#just once I want to get off and relax and not have to go and take care of a whole ass adult who’ll throw a fit if I dare say I’m hungry#or get mad at me when I run out of energy when I’m going non stop#ghost rambles#hh I’ll have some time to myself tomorrow morning before my blood tests at least#before I have to go home after and prepare for a taco night with friends#gonna go wander target I still have a gift card and maybe get a new piercing#I am excited for tacos and games with my friends I’m just so tired and tomorrow morning is my only break for the next week#I have so many appointments coming up and I picked up extra shifts
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well. That went quite shittily
#vents 🌧️#who up crying their eyes out in front of a test#I was literally the last person in that godforsaken classroom. Everyone else finished#I’m so so SOOO tired of feeling stupid. Those questions were easy. I know they were#But for some fuckin reason I couldn’t figure them out. Absolute bullshit#I miss being smart#I took my first anti depressant today. Maybe eventually it’ll help me#But I guess until then I’ll just have to settle with being an idiot#Fun fact about me: my worst fear is public humiliation so being the last person to finish is like. Nightmare material#At least I don’t think they knew I was crying. That’s good or something#Sick of this shit. I’m sort of starting to really hate school#Sorry that was a Lot. This blog is starting to turn into a personal blog too. Whatevar
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take this with a grain of extremely drunk but at this point I'm my journey? now? I'm like literally the idealest person in the world and I think everyone else has something wrong with them
#is it autism? is that why people don't just fuckin communicate with me?#my autistic superpower is im TOO GOOD at communicating and everyone else is behind me.#im already in the 'so how do we meet our needs' stage when other people are in the avoidance stage or the self awareness stage#idk. idk. fuckin tired of it#tired of games tired of excuses tired of IMMATURITY#tired of being more grown than people in their mid 30s. tired of being more grown than my parents in their mid 50s#tired of being the ONLY person i know ACTIVELY working on their flaws and making progress#maybe others are just working on things i dont notice and maybe others dont notice what im doing. but idk. people have seemed to notice.#is it because im becoming buddhist? am i like more fucking enlightened or something?#i would hope that wouldn't be the only thing causing such a disconnect cause that sounds fucking pretentious#im drunk cause i was upset. remember yhis if you're reading these tags#im not upset anymore cause i got drunk. and made a really good omelette#but yeah i feel so different from other people. so much better and also so much worse. hashtag paradox#best communicator deepest thinker most compassionate soul. also most horrible awful sinner#↑obsessed with the concept of sin in a fascinating way for someone who doesn't Believe in it#yes im a sinner yes im a real sex demon from hell no hell doesnt exist yes reincarnation is real yes i am buddhist yes i believe in ghosts.#i contain multitudes#anyways#i was supposed to *** ** ***** *** today and i didn't so I got grumpy i guess#i really need to practice the principles of detachment#I've gotten a lot better at patience and calm and meditation but i still care so much about inconsequential shit. enough to drink it away i#i should sleep i was trying to fix my sleep schedule the last two nights#but i don't want to. i want to drink and have fun and maybe cry#we'll see#doubt anyone is gonna read this it's mostly for me#gonna tag this#therapy#so i can find it if i need it#i just miss my girlfriend man. but she stood me up again without a word and it's disrespectful#and i know I'm gonna forgive her
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I'm just gonna complain in the tags tw medical stuff tbd etc
#its the final stretch and i refuse to will anything into this universe other than this is the final stretch im having treatment and it ends#this is the end of this here and now i will not continue to live like this i cannot continue to live like this i cannot carry this fatigue#any further genuinely i cannot its not a matter of will not anymore i just... i cannot. im legitimately still hiding at the office#despite everyone else having gone home because it takes too much effort to gather my things and walk to my car and im afraid of falling#i forgot my cane at home and its cold and my body struggles with temperature regulating and seizes up so badly#but the fatigue has finally reached a point where its hard to lift my bag or put my coat on or my jewelry without help#or walk across the parking lot just to get to my car and its not like the usual hey we have to adjust to new level of disabled#it's fatigue kneecapping you put of nowhere with a tireiron until you can barely loft your bag or fix tea or prepare dinner#and the fact the all the joy of food has been robbed from me because everything takes so much goddamn effort now#everything takes ten more steps and an hour more planning and special ingredients and yes i know lots of people live like this always#but i haven't and its been a forced short term adjustment period with absolutely no support from medical professionals#and im the only cook in my household/family/immediate social circle so all the labor inevitably falls on me not out of malice#but by default even if they try to help they can only do so much because they dont know what to do#i am literally on the verge of a meltdown just thinking about how much effort dinner is going to take because i cant just#eat a fuckin box of easy mac or ramen with an egg and go to bed no I've got to make a special soup with special ingredients#or a proper balanced meal with protein and veg and whole grain and certain seasoning#and im just so fuckin tired im so goddamn tired if this radiologist doesn't come back and say i can eat freely come Friday#i genuinely dont know what im going to do#food is one of my greatest joys and to be limited even in such bizarrely simple ways requiring so much excess labor#is too much. its too much on top of all this hypothyroidic fatigue. i cant do it.#i dont want to go home and make a fuckin soup. i want pizza. i want take away. i want lamb curry and rice. i want food i dont have to cook.#god im so fuckin tired my body feels so ancient like something wrecked in the seabed being involuntary hoisted to the shallows again#and im not sure its going to survive the process. i mean it has to. we dont have a choice. but fuck.
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i keep retrying outpatient programs at my local treatment center and every year like clockwork i realize that i hate every thing about it so much
#also this is the only way im ever able to function at over like 40% capacity so#also they got me clean 6 yrs ago so i cant say shit about some people but others I CAN#me in the corner shakily sitting there after i just got back from smoking 3 cigs in 5 mins avoiding the eyes#of the woman who thinks shes better than everyone else cause she cut out all substances completely#and i had to listen to this girl talk about how shes scared of people who are emotionally unavailable. i am so tired of u#i should have done fuckin yoga or something instead of group#doing my ACT work by being sooo compassionate rn
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I'm gonna be whiny for a while lololol
#ummmmmm#so how much can i#like...#frfr endure#before i just#start.#breakinig#genuinely asking here#because i dont know anymore#im so fucking.#sick and tired of always.#faking good moods. im tired of being the shoulder for everyone to cry on. i dont mind it but i feel like i cant cry on anyone else#shoulder when i really need to. bc all i do is complain complain complain#i grew up in **** and endured ///////////////// and have fuckin depression. and anxiety!#how fun!#oh dont forget the PTSD too lol#but the real kicker is the fact that even though i still have the urge to just slice my own skin open#or do smthin equally gruesome to myself. even tho so fucking often i feel as though i cant fuckng breahte#bc everything fucking hurts so badly and it feels like i have absolutely NOTHING to lvie for#why am i living. why am i here. why do i exist.#i cant even take any antidepressants bc they apparently cancel out my seizure meds#its like life is just fucking laughing at me and seeing how much i can be forced to endure until i just#end it all one day.#ik im a fucking annoyance to people. i know i act like a bigshot and shit but how else can i at least#SOMEWHAT pretend i have people who give a damn about me???#if i disappeared ik people would forget abt me...just like my first few online friends did after a few years...#im unremarkable. im a fucking mess. i want to scream but i cant. i dont want to be here anymore.#im disgusting. my body is disgusting. everything about me is disgusting.#i want it all to end.
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All of my birthday plans have been cancelled but one.
PLEASE, Universe, please don't let them fall through as well.
#birthday#everyone is too busy for me#friends cancelled on me#family cancelled on me#my birthday is in a week#and it looks like i'll be spending it alone#like every other year#i'm just so fuckin tired of being an afterthought#i am literally nobodys priority#and yet i'll continusously go out of my way#to make sure everyone else#is happy and feeling loved#happy birthday to my pathetic existance i didn't ask for#i guess
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i am genuinely so nocturnal it's not even funny. i "fixed" my sleep schedule for the women's fest coming up and now i can't get anything done, i just lay around exhausted and irritable all day until the sun goes down and then i get in bed and can't fall asleep bc i'm full of energy
#and if i take something to fall asleep i sleep for 14 hours bc my body is trying to correct itself ghdkfhdh#i still think it's non-24 hr and not delayed sleep phase bc i cycle thru every possible sleep schedule#but the sleep monitor the doctor wanted me to get was like >$1k and not covered by insurance sooo fuck that lmao#and not to rant but i hate it when people say ''night owls'' aren't real and it's just bc ur on ur phone or playing video games#i didn't have a fuckin smart phone when i was six years old staying up till midnight i just wasn't tired!!#and i have tried everything. i hate ppl being like ''well have you tried-'' yes. didn't work. i have decades more experience w this than u#i know people think i'm just lazy. even more so now that i also have chronic pain.#that i should be able to wake up every morning like everyone else.#i was so excited abt this new sleep doc because he was the first one to say ''why don't you just follow your body's schedule''#and he had this great care plan too but his team sent me on this wild goose only to find out this device would be over $1k#ppl think wow she doesn't even work like it's not humiliating to see your peers advancing their careers#while you had to give up on your dreams#i'm so lucky to be financially supported by my parents bc i would be dead otherwise#but that doesn't mean i don't feel worthless bc all my hard work in school amounted to nothing#who would hire someone who can't keep a consistent schedule? my only hope is IT but i can't handle traditional college again#it nearly fuckin killed me the first time#but will my online degree even help me#i want to work i want to contribute i want to be financially independent#i wish the rest of the world was wide awake at night like me
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god i forgot how much i liked that cohost hid a lot of metrics…
(much ranting in the tags…)
#im despising the note counter again….#ramblin but not a gamblin man#but i really REALLY didnt like how cohost completely felt like a void#…like genuinely felt like an isolation room or smth…#why can’t i just opt out#i have my notifications turned off again for sanity#but I don’t like seeing everyone else’s lol#…they make me feel bad….#and yeah i guess it has to do with smaller fandom but that’s kind of part of why it sucks#i want new content that’s not just made by the small group that we are#i want fuckin dedicated tags and a line of people making new things….even if the stuff we use is old#there are so many smasmas that have NEVER been giffed#so many dramas#(even though for a lot of these there’s like negative incentive to make anything for….)#but you know what sucks the most….#no matter how much we love the stuff and do it because we like it….we are hoping that it will get shared….be known….#im trying so hard not to pressure myself to gif every little thing#which is part of why im posting more and more clips#but it hurts seeing the note count that other fandoms get even in such a short time….and just being grateful-enjoying the ones i receive#i don’t know how much this shit makes sense#and im honestly so tired of getting upset by this time and time again but it hurts#i hate being part of an actually small fandom lol#..that’s basically it….i guess#or one that’s small until someone random reblogs it and shoots the note count up#and I really can’t explain why that makes me more upset than happy but it actually really does lol#how many times am i going to talk about these and go in circles? way too many#i ruminate….its what i do…always been that way…got on my ex’s fuckin nerves lmfao……
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read something kinda off-putting on twitter and now I'm sad :(
#it's something like. i can't say it cause it's easy to tell who said it. but idk#being a writer already is so frustrating and you're very unappreciated and like#it breaks my heart to spend weeks and weeks working on something just for people to say the tag is empty and they need more things to read#like idk. maybe support the fics you do have and acknowledge all that work that's been done already#i was fine and like. i'm selfish so i check the tags to see if people mention the 10.5k fic i JUST fuckin posted two days ago and no#it's just. idk i want to cry#and i don't mean for people to pity me but i worked hard but i am not popular at all so idk. i want to be acknowledged at least#fan writers do so much to keep a community going just for people to eat your work up like it's nothing#idk. it's nothing if it's me#maybe it's me. idk what i did for everyone to just ignore and avoid me so much. i#i see people want more post canon fics like okay i will write one. then they're over it by the time i post. then they're like oh so empty#then they want college fics. but if i write it then by the time i post it they want something else. and it makes me want to fuckin scream#is it just me? like do people just not like me idk. i wish they'd say so so i can pack up and leave and stop trying to please people#idk i'm just in a bad place. i'm tired and sad and i love writing but having written is just it feels like people stomping on my heart#idk i'm sorry i'm sorry
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The Radio Demon has a WIFE??? And She was a WHAT??? (Alastor x Fem!Reader)
Summary: Mimzy stops by and brings up a little detail that Alastor forgot to mention: he has a wife...oh yeah, and she used to be a nun. How the fuck did that happen???
-Or-
I was watching 'Call the Midwife' and got Alastor brainrot ideas while watching the romance between Sister Bernadette/Sheila and Dr. Turner.
Tags: Fem!Reader (for obvious reasons), She/Her pronouns, No Use of (Y/N), everything I know about being a nun is from a TV show (don't kill me pls), Husk is...so fucking tired, also I couldn’t find a midwife house in New Orleans so I made one up (don’t kill me pls x2)
TW: None, other than my possible terrible idiocy regarding nun shit and Catholicism, I feel like me being the author should also be a TW in and of itself ngl
Word Count: 2.4k
Read it on Ao3 <3
"WHAT?"
Husk winced as Angel's voice echoed throughout the lobby, loud and full of indignation.
"There is no fuckin' way tall, dark, an' creepy is married," he insisted, staring down Mimzy as she took another swig from her glass, "you've gotta be fuckin' with us, right Husk?"
Husk pointedly ignored the question, turning his back to the two idiots and their quickly gathering crowd of spectators—the other residents of the hotel. Alastor didn't like people talking about him unless it was with hate, fear, or admiration- (the arrogant fuck) -and he liked people spreading his personal business around even less.
He wasn't stupid enough to get involved in this conversation, even if Mimzy and Angel apparently were.
Mimzy laughed, "oh please, that's not even the best part! Alastor's sweetheart actually used to be a sister!"
"A sister?"
"Yeah-"
'Don't fuckin' say it-'
"-like a nun!"
'Motherfucker.'
That statement had Angel choking on his drink, everyone else letting out various exclamations of disbelief—all of which only made Mimzy's smile widen. She was enjoying the attention.
"Yeah," she continued, "the pretty thing was actually part of one of the few nunneries that were up and running back in our day—although hers also served as a sorta home base for the midwives in New Orleans before it all became a hospital affair."
"So not only did Smiles somehow manage to get 'imself a sweetheart, but he managed to bag a fuckin' NUN?!" Angel asked incredulously, "how the FUCK did that happen?"
Mimzy grinned mischievously, "well-"
"Mimzy," Husk said, caution and warning in his tone. It was one thing to drop a couple facts and then shut up—Alastor was fond of her- (as "fond" as the bastard was capable of) -so she might be able to get off with a warning—but to start telling stories about his life? Spilling all his carefully guarded secrets?
Yeah, that'd get her killed. Or worse.
Even so, Mimzy either didn't know how secretive Alastor was- (doubtful) -or she was just under the delusional belief that he wouldn't hurt her for her slight- (bingo) -because she just waved off Husk's warning.
"Hm...where should I start?"
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What everyone in Hell tended to forget was that the cruel, bloodthirsty, "Radio Demon" they all feared...used to be a man, used to be human just like all the rest.
Quite the human he was, though.
Obviously he did his fair share of terrible things, he didn't end up in Hell for being a saint, but before any of his...transgressions came into the public eye, people truly thought he was. He'd come from a poor home, his father ran off when he was young, and yes he was an odd child—but all of that seemed inconsequential the older he got.
He worked hard in school and worked his way up in the world until he finally became a famous radio host, the crown jewel of the French Quarter. Even so, all of the attention never seemed to go to his head. His mother's son, always his mother's son, he was the picture of a true gentleman—always polite, always chivalrous, always helping others. It certainly didn't hurt that he was handsome too, and his charm was unmatched by any other man in the city.
As such, it was no shock that he attracted all manner of attention from people vying for his affection, but no one seemed to catch his particular eye. That was, until he met her...
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“Now, keep in mind, I don’t know very much about his missus before they got together,” Mimzy admitted, “but, from what I can tell, she'd always been a mystery, so I don’t think it really matters-“
“Obviously it matters!” Angel interrupted, his drink and everything else long forgotten, “for someone to get together with Smiles willingly, they’ve gotta have some of their own skeletons in the closet! C’mon toots, you gotta know something.”
Mimzy circled a finger around her glass, playing coy, “well…maybe I might know a thing or two…”
Husk wanted to bash his head against a wall.
Fine, fine, fine. It was one thing—one really fucking stupid thing—to talk about Alastor, but to talk about his wife? Especially to fucking gossip about her?
Yeah, no, these morons were definitely dead as soon as Alastor found out.
“Well?” Angel pressed, looking downright desperate for more information.
“Well…”
---------------
Alastor's sweetheart had always been an enigma since the day she arrived in New Orleans, every bit of her covered in that modest black and white clothing—all except her face and hands, of course.
By all accounts, she was a sweet girl—kind, attentive, always willing to help—but she was also very…secretive, one might say. It wasn't that the other nuns weren't reserved, because they were, but she was especially so, and her brand of reservation came across as more underhanded than anything else.
She never talked about her hobbies, her family, her life before taking her vows—hell, she never talked about her life before she moved to New Orleans. So it was no surprise that a fair amount of rumors followed her around, no matter how sweet she appeared to be.
Some said that she was a runaway, trying to escape an abusive father; others said that she moved there to get out of a loveless marriage; and a few even claimed that she was on the run from the law. There was never any evidence to support any of those rumors, of course, but people loved to talk.
One might think that Alastor was drawn to her because of all of those whispers, just chasing down another story for his radio show, but it was actually a mix of pure luck and her work as a midwife that brought those two together.
You see, midwives didn't only deliver babies, but they also offered all sorts of medical assistance to anyone who needed it. These services eventually brought her to his mother’s home one day, and it just so happened that Alastor was also visiting his ma at the time.
The two started talking and, between his magnetic charms and her sweet demeanor, it was no surprise that the two got along like a house fire.
From then on, every time she visited his ma to take care of her, he was there too. Then he started showing up at all of the events hosted by Saint Charlene’s, always finding his way to her side. And there even came a time where he started visiting her frequently, always welcomed by her fellow sisters and the other midwives with open arms.
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“Wait a minute,” Angel interrupted, “I thought nuns weren’t allowed ta be in relationships. It goes against the whole point of bein’ a nun, don’t it?”
Mimzy huffed, “I was getting to that part!”
---------------
Obviously nuns weren’t allowed to have relationships, romantic or sexual, and most people of that time didn’t believe that men and women could simply be friends—so the friendliness they both shared fell under quite a bit of scrutiny. Everyone that knew a thing about that sweet girl knew she would never betray her vows, and everyone that knew a thing about Alastor knew that he’d rather die than be anything less than a perfect gentleman.
But, like I said, people in New Orleans liked to talk.
Neither of them paid any mind to it, though. Alastor was already dealing with the bullshit that came with showbiz and his sweetheart already had a bunch of rumors circulating about her, so what did they care if a few more whispers were added to the pile? But eventually, a painfully long time after the two first met and became friends, there came a day when something that wasn’t quite platonic bloomed between the two of them.
Obviously the two of them were horrified by this; Alastor, because he would never ask her to forsake her vows for him, and her, because she was worried that she was betrayin’ her God by feeling that way.
Eventually she talked to the other nuns, though, and got some help figuring out her emotions and what she wanted to do, and Alastor talked things through with his ma—who was, frankly, overjoyed that he’d finally found someone who he fancied.
Let me tell ya, even with all of the others helpin’, it took fuckin’ forever for those two to finally get together. Between their shared emotional constipation, everyone’s expectations of them, the worry that the other didn’t feel the same way, and the fear of crossing each other’s boundaries…yeah, it took over a year after the two of them figured out they liked each other for them to actually say something.
By the time they finally got their shit together, Alastor’s mom and the other midwives were already planning their wedding. Hell, the nuns were just about ready to rescind her vows themselves, they were so sick of the pining!
Everything worked out in the end, though. The two confessed, his sweetheart did the whole dispensation thing, and the two eventually got married.
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“Blah, blah, blah…they got a happily ever after and a white picket fence,” Mimzy finished with a lazy wave of her hand, “so, that's the story."
Angel just stared at her, mouth hanging open slightly, “huh, I didn’t know tall, dark, and creepy had it in ‘im.”
Mimzy hummed, “yeah, he might seem all big an’ scary, but underneath all that he’s a total doll!”
Husk shuddered as the prickle of static suddenly made his hair stand on end, signaling Alastor’s entrance into the room—along with Charlie, Vaggie, and Lucifer himself. His eyes immediately found the small group that had gathered by the bar, and it probably wasn’t hard for him to figure out what exactly drew everyone there.
“Now, now, Mimzy, what have you been telling everyone about me?” Alastor chastised, making his way closer to their group. His tone was teasing, but it had a subtle warning at the end—one that said he wasn’t asking for shits n' giggles. It made Husk want to disappear into the wall, to get out of the way of what would follow if Alastor found out the subject of their conversation. Hopefully Angel and Mimzy would have enough sense to keep their mouths shut, but he doubted it.
“Oh, nothing you need ta worry about!” she said, waving him off playfully, “just a couple old stories from back in the day.”
“Is that so?”
Mimzy hummed her affirmative, finishing off her drink, and for one blissful moment Husk thought that the subject would drop and everything would be fine. He was wrong.
“Yeah, and I gotta say I’m surprised atcha Smiles,” Angel snarked, “who knew ya had a missus back home keeping ya on a leash.”
The room went dead silent.
The lights suddenly flickered, a dark red glow casting across the room as they did—mangled shadows dancing on the walls. Husk shrank back, trying his best to blend in with the bottles of alcohol that lined the shelf behind him.
Alastor’s voice was pure radio static, barely restrained rage filtering through, “w̶͚̫̰̰̟̌̆̓̚̚h̵̩̤̹͓̗̾̔͗̇̉å̴̱̩̝͚̎́̐̔̏͜†̸̡͔̲̠͔̔̎̆̀̕ ̸̲̠͔̟̗͗͑̾͐͘Ð̷̡̠̥̞͚̔̾̋̋͘ï̶̩̼̻̱̣̓̀̅͆̑Ð̸̣͍̞̬͖͋͑̽͗̚ ̶͈͙̤̺̲̒̒̒̎̀¥̷̭̻̥̘͈̇̓͑́́ð̵̢̲͕͈͇͐͊̓̀̓µ̴͕̬͕̟̟͊͊͂͗͘ ̵̪̲̫̳͍͑̑͒̔͐j̶̨̦̹̪̟̄̽̽̄͘µ̸̧̭͖͇̞̈́̔̀̒͒§̵̺̠͚͓͓̓͂̚͘͝†̷̛̖̤̰̗͓͋̄̇̑ ̸̢̩͙̙̫̊͗̃͘͝§̷̻̣̼̼͙̎͋̂͆͝ą̸̡̛̱̣̻̊̈́̈́̑́¥̶̢̟̼̘̲̃̿̐͑͠?̴͉̞̠̞̦̒͌̋͗̓”
‘Fuck.’
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You hummed quietly as you sat on the couch in your and Alastor’s shared home, sketching whatever came to mind in one of the small notebooks he’d bought you—working away the time and trying to ignore his glaring absence. It wasn’t often you were left yearning for your husband’s presence, finding plenty to do during the times he was gone, but today you wanted nothing more than for him to walk through the door. Luckily, you got your wish, although things certainly weren’t how you expected.
As soon as Alastor walked in, you could tell he was pissed. It was in his posture, his strained smile, the violent crackle of interference in the air. Even his shadow seemed agitated, flitting from one spot to another as if it simply couldn’t sit still.
“Al?” You asked carefully, “is everything alright?”
He turned to you, obviously trying to pass off the illusion of placidity, “everything is fine, my dear, why do you ask?”
“Well you just seem–” the lights around the house flickered, and you could hear a few of them bust in the other rooms, “...tense.”
He kept up the mask for a moment longer, still trying to fool you, but it dropped soon enough and he let out an irritated sigh.
“...certain people need to learn to keep their insignificant little mouths shut.”
You set aside your notebook and gestured for him to sit next to you, a request he obliged. Almost immediately your hands went to his shoulders and you began massaging them, trying to alleviate some of the tension practically radiating off of him—drawing an almost relieved sigh from his mouth.
You pressed a barely-there kiss to the back of his neck, “what happened, love?”
…
“Mimzy stopped by the hotel today and during her stay she decided to fucK̶̝̥̘̪͍̉͋́̈̅Ḭ̴̛̭̪͇̀͋̐̍͂͜ñ̷̡̤̩̖̰̈́͂̑̐͝G̴̞̯̭͈̘͋̒̑̅̚ ̵͇͕͓͕̗͆̃͛͊̂Ġ̶̝̱̪͈̘̽̌͗͝Ö̶̼̲̬̪̟̏̌̄̚͝§̴̺̱̲̫̝̍̈͆̃́§̶̧̞̣̼̮̂͊͋͌͠Ì̷̲̰̹̰͚͌̀̌̇̂þ̴̢̥̰̖̬͒́͌̏̿ ̸̝̺̪̟̈́͊̅̏̆ͅÄ̷͎̘͓̬͇̋̍͑̏͠ß̵̢̫͇̣̻́̊͆͆͝Ö̸̡̤̤̤͙̀̎̿͛͝Ú̸̟̯̺͈̪̇̓̊͐̊†̸̘̺͎͖̣̂̍̽̋̚ ̷̪̺̖̜͇̀͂͒̚͝Ö̴̮̯̗͙̑̆̽̄̚ͅỨ̸̫̯̰̺̼̈́̄̐͝R̸̨̢̧̭͓̒͊̋̇͘ ̵̧̥̗̰͖̅̌̒̿̃þ̶̦̞̫̙͕̈̒̀̿̚Ȩ̵̞̖̲͖̀͗̂̎͝͝R̸̢̪̟̜̮̉̌͒̉̃§̴̢̣͇̠̫̓̀̈͗̽Ö̴̟͕͓̤̀̈́̒͘͜͠ñ̶̛̙͍̼͖͔̎̓̐̋Ä̶̢̬͇͙̟̌͌̃̈͌L̴̨̪͎̟̦̄̇̈̓̿ ̶̨̧̰̼̮̈͒̀̒͝L̸͖̬̙̮̗̂̓̀͘̚Ì̴͙̠͈̺̣͌̓͊̓̓V̷̯̭̞̙͖͆̐̾͗̔Ę̴̪̻̤̀̾͑͆͜͝͝§̷̛͚̤͇̫̘̑͆̾͘.̵̡̥̪̫͇̽̋̑͝͝ §̶͎̣̝̳͓͋̊̀̌͆ð̵̢̼̖̝̭̏̇̕̕͝ ̵̘̜͚̠̫́͊̈́͐̽Ì̷̢̧͖͚͙̆̔̌̓̏ ̸̻̩̪͓̞̀͑͒̇͋†̴̧͉̯̻̳̒̽͋̾̋ð̵̟͙͍̳͈͒̈́̑̍̑ð̸̲̤̞̞̙̄̅͛̓͠k̷̖̪̩̭͇͋̒̀͘͘ ̶̢̛̗̞͍̱̒̅͐͘ï̸̢̢͕̩̰̍̍̽̈́̈́†̵̠̥̖̗̌̌̾̿͠ͅ ̵͙̹̦͎̬͆́̈͗͛µ̸̧̼̲̮̙͊͂̑̓͌þ̶̹̬̫̥̹̓̑̆͘͝ð̷̡̺͖̣̇̅̔͐͑ͅñ̸̼͙̦͕̼̏̐͗͘̕ ̵̢̱̺͖͋̄͌͊̊ͅṁ̸͉̜͙͖͍̓̍͗͝¥̶̨̠̜̮̜̑͑͗̎̌§̵̧̜͉̣̓́͛̇̓ͅḛ̸̠̲̝̤̂̓̎̓͌̈́ĺ̵̛̻̭͚̝̹̽͐̍£̵̠̫̲̹̬̍̊̾̍̕ ̴̧̭̘̞̀̀͋́̄͜†̵̨̰̠̫̖̎̋̃̂͘ð̴̨͍̭̤̙̄̑̎͝͠ ̴̯̟̟̖̜͒͂͌͒̉§̶̪̜̙͎͎́̒̍̾͝h̷̝̻̞̖̄̅̔̆̕͜µ̵̨̨̛̣̬͓̍̑͋́†̶̨̢̰̤͙̌̀̈̈́͆ ̴͔̟̻̫̐͊̓͑̉͜ĥ̴̢̯͔̯̈́̇̑͋͜ê̵̡̳̠͖̺͋͒͐̍̇r̸̝̘͍̙̂͑́̃͊ͅ w̷̸̼̠͓̟͍̣͓̪͚͊̈͗̉̄̊̍̍̇̀͜h̵̥͓͕̲͉̋̓͊́̈́ð̴̨̡͚̲̦̄̃̄̓͋r̸̖̲̮̮͐͌͑́̃ͅę̴͖͇͙̥̂̐͛͌͒̽ ṃ̷̨̱͈̭̀̃͂́͘ð̵̧̛͎̗̟̒̇̈̊ͅµ̴̨̛̖͈̱͈̑̋́̕†̵͚̝̜̟͍̔̈̀̈́̆h̵͚̞͔̗̖̀͒̀͛͘.̴̳̙̞̗̬͒́͆̂͂”
The sudden surge of static and shadow didn’t phase you, even as Alastor struggled to not shift into his demonic form—sharp cracks of green light appearing on the walls.
When you’d first found out about his…extracurricular activities, you had been afraid and confused, but now it was nothing more than background noise. He was still the man you fell in love with, still your husband, even if he occasionally killed and ate the degenerates of the world and anyone that pissed him off.
All things considered, you were just glad that you’d ended up in Hell with him, even if the things you'd had to do to ensure that were...distasteful.
You wrapped your arms around him, nestling your head into the crook of his neck. A luxury that no one else enjoyed but you.
“That does sound stressful. Is everything handled now, at least?”
“Yes,” he drawled, leaning back further into you, “unfortunately I was unable to get rid of the other l̷̡͈̼̘̩̾͌̉͝͠ï̸̗̭̝̥̺̈́̓̐̿̚†̴̢̡͕͖̹͌͌̋̈́͗†̸̢̣͖͚͔̓̌̉̾̐l̶̡̪͙͕͗͐̍́̕͜ę̴̡̦͕̜̂͋̏̅͘͝ ̵̰̥̩̺̪̀̋̉͑̍§̸̖̥̦̗͓̏̋̉̈́̃h̶͓͙̯͔͇̎̏̾̕̚ï̴̧̡̱̗̻̈́͗͆̃̀†̴̣̖̯̭͉̂͐͒̍̀§̵̧̡̹̼̹͒̿̍̋͠, as Charlie has taken a liking to them, but I trust that I got my point across.”
“Good.”
You pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.
“Now…when do I get to meet these ‘little shits’ that get on your nerves so often?” you teased, drawing an amused chuckle from him.
“Don’t even start, darling.”
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#hazbin hotel fanfiction#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor x reader#devotion’s posts: fic stuff 🪻
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really wish my life wasnt so unnecessarily hard all the time
#i dont like to talk about it. bc too many people take joy in my suffering#and in a lot of cases i cant talk about it for reasons#but yeah#just kinda like. all i wanted in life was to be loved for who i was...? and thats apparently the tallest ask in the world....#so now i kinda resent everyone bc in spite of my efforts people just like. never wanna see my value or see how or when im good#they just wanna laugh at me like... what am i even doing wrong..#and i sit here begging people to fuckin tell me and they just dont. they just use me as funny fuel#its like why should i try for anyone ever when they dont even tell me how im Not Good Enough#and just want to remind me that i am vaguely bad#theres nothing i can say or do that will ever make me good enough for them its just never enough no matter what#its why its just me. alone. validating myself. trying to love myself. trying to let myself feel like i matter for once.#and everyone else constantly trying to tear me down#and it just feels like theres no one who cares to ever actually build me up#im so tired of trying to guess what peoples issue is
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part 3. of the toxic!simon adventure (contains smut)
alex begins making many more appearances in your life and simon can’t fuckin’ stand it. tells himself that there’s just something off about that guy, doesn’t seem like he could protect you if it came to it. this statement made price let out a scoff in response
“he’s one of the best soldiers i’ve ever worked with, simon. besides, they’re just bein’ friendly with each other.”
“too friendly…” simon mumbles under his breath, narrowing his eyes as he watches you laugh at one of alex’s silly puns
simon spends a lot of time at the Price household. he says it’s because your old man lives closer to base but the truth is he can’t stand being alone in his flat in manchester, haunted and plagued by the chaos he’s seen on the field
he didn’t appreciate how often he was bumping into alex keller when he came to visit. price claiming that alex has to some work to conduct in the UK and offered him a place to stay. nothing to overthink, he says.
except for the fact that you’re both attached at the hip. watching tv together, joining alex on his morning runs, driving you around to help you run your errands. simon watches with a twitch in his eye, a mean feeling bubbling up in his chest as he watches his favourite toy get snatched up by the new kid in the playground
simon is constantly finding opportunities to get in your way, or more specifically, get in Alex’s way. He’ll watch from the kitchen as Alex’s hand twitches to reach out for yours when you’re both watching some show you were both talking about at dinner…
so simon decides he wants to watch that show too, planting himself right beside you, if he was any closer he would be sitting in your lap.
he caught a peek of the two of you stood in the back garden, alex pointing up at the night stars and leaning over to whisper something in your ear, making you giggle
so simon decided he needed to have a cigarette right that second, stalking out into the garden and slamming the door to announce his presence
“not interrupting anythin’, am I?”
you both sheepishly smile and shake your heads, seperating from each other
later on that night when the house is quiet and everyone has headed off to bed, simon finds himself unable to sleep. he thinks about going for a smoke or having another glass of bourbon but instead finds himself with his hand down his sweats, sloppily pumping his cock
in his other meaty hand, he holds his phone. a picture of you clad in some stringy lingerie that you sent to him one late night a few months ago. these pictures were always the product of you having a bad day and then being ignored by simon
crying in your room because he’s an emotionally unavailable prick, telling yourself that you’re over it and you’re gonna ignore him too. and then less than an hour later, your posing for your camera in a desperate attempt to get him to come to your room
well, at least, that’s what you used to do. simon never responded to these pictures. not even a thumbs up. perhaps you got tired of being ignored by him, simon thinks. or maybe you want him to send you a picture this time. or maybe, just fucking maybe, you’re sending these pretty pictures to someone else…
the thought makes simon yank his hand from his trackies with a curse falling from his lips. his cock aching and leaking against the material of his boxers, desperate for release. he snatches his mask from the bedside table and trudges down the hallway, only to stop at the sound of breathy moans coming through the crack of your door
it’s nearly 2AM. why is the light on in your room? why are you awake? simon’s brain runs a mile a minute with thoughts of you. when did he start thinking about you?
he places a hand on your door and slowly pushes it open enough so you can’t see his bulky frame in the dark hallway
and there you are. laying on your back with your forearm over your eyes, loud moans escaping your throat as desperate sobs. for a second, simon’s brain doesn’t even notice there’s another person in your room, too focused on watching your blissed out expression to notice that Alex was on top of you, pushing on your thighs to tuck your knees behind your ears
the slick sounds of your pussy being fucked would probably have been enough to keep simon’s cock hard, but not when he’s watching you fall apart in another man’s arms
he’s got you folded into a mating press, repeatedly slapping his hips into yours. he nearly vomits from rage when he hears you cry out his name
“Alex! fuck, I can’t… ‘s too much…” you whine out, bracing your hands on his shoulders when Alex reaches up to grip the headboard of your bed
“yeah, ya can, sugar. so good for me. such a good fucking girl. all pretty for me, ain’t that right, baby?” he whispers in your ear, but simon heard it. and it makes him fucking rage that this is what has become of him. standing in the pitch black corridor, watching you get fucked by another man like a pervert
but simon isn’t getting off on this. no, how can he enjoy staring at your panties dangling from your ankle knowing he wasn’t the one tugging them off your wet pussy? how can enjoy the sound of your moans when you silence them by pulling on Alex’s dogtags for a kiss?
you look so pretty when you come, simon thinks to himself as you squeal and kick your feet against Alex’s back. so pretty when it’s too much for you…
not that simon would know. he always turned your face away from his when you fucked, putting you on your knees and shoving your face into the mattress.
simon decides it’s too much for him to handle when he hears you begging for Alex to come inside of you. stalks back to his lonely room and unlocks his phone, shoving his hand back into his boxers and loading up a picture of you…
#mw2#cod mw2#ghost#simon ghost riley#simon riley#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#toxic!simon#alex keller#alex keller x reader
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— late night blues
pairing: roommate bsf!eddie munson x f!reader
summary: you can’t seem to sleep, so eddie offers to drive you around, but you have something else in mind that can make you relax and help you fall asleep faster; his fingers. (wc: 3.1k+)
author's note: not proofread. entirely self-indulgent. and normally i would gaf about interactions but i literally dont rn. i needed this <3 and for all my insomniacs out there... i appreciate u and i am u. hope this is like a warm/horny hug to all of u as much as it is to me. bc i need it desperately. the ending is kinda rushed i am so v sorry. pleaseeee reblog to support me. ty!! mwah.
Hogging the blanket you sank deeper into the couch, the light illuminating from the TV screen enough to have you squinting, but never enough to lull you into sleep.
You huff, impatiently, trying to shut off the voices in your head, thoughts swirling around everywhere and anywhere, making it impossible to let you embrace the sweet sleep you so desperately need.
"Why are you awake?" A low groan of Eddie's voice almost startles you, slight gasp leaving your lips, making you sit up straight with a deep breath.
"Couldn't sleep," you shrugged, "didn't wanna wake you."
"Should've," he grumbles, stomping on his way next to you, "y'know I can't sleep knowing you're awake, right?" A lazy smile is placed on his lips when he slouches right next to you.
The couch sinks with the impact and so does your stomach, the implications of his words not going unnoticed, the two of you have always been close, too fucking close to being considered as just friends.
Yet, none of you ever made any effort.
And you were growing tired of it, because, shit, did you like him. And a part of you, as well as everyone else in the gang kept teasing you about, told you he liked you too. Just waiting to be pushed.
"Wanna smoke?" He asked with a hum, "might help you sleep better." The brunette placed a lazy kiss on your forehead, another act the two of you always did, affectionate, too affectionate to be just friends, yet none of you ever dwelled on it, despite it leaving your entire body on fire in its wake, and Eddie's stomach churn with delight as you always smiled up at him. Sweet, almost peaceful, making you nod quietly, looking so fatigued that his chest ached for you.
"Was t'tired... couldn't roll one." You point toward the mess on the coffee table, grinder open with strains stuck in it, crumpled-up rolling papers, and a bunch of filters sprawled everywhere.
"How about we take a drive, princess?" He asks with a slight tilt of his head, the pad of his thumb slowly circling your face, tender and making you melt into him.
You shake your head quickly, not wanting to bother him in any way. "Eds, it's too late, I don't want you to-"
But he's quick to scoff. "Don't be ridiculous."
"Eddie, I mean it, we can just smoke this here and-" He tuts you quickly, already getting up, his Garfield sweatpants fully in view, making you giggle.
He takes your hand in his, dragging you while you huff and puff. "Grab a jacket or one of my hoodies, and let's fuckin' roll, honey."
Once you throw over one of his oversized hoodies, he almost carries you to the car, not wanting you to lose that sleepy state, knowing that it'd be hard for you to get it back.
You buckle your seatbelt, just watching him in his groove, head falling into the headrest as you admire him rolling a joint so quickly that it makes your head spin. "How the fuck can you do that?" You groan, "'s not fair." A pout overtakes your lips, causing him to grin. He wants to kiss it away, yet all he does is tuck the strands of your hair that are covering your features, turning your lips into a mellow smile, matching his.
"Well it helps if you were a dealer in high school." He rambles, a hearty giggle escaping from your lips, "I'll teach you some time too, honey, promise." You nod in acceptance, and another kiss is planted on your forehead, one you happily accept, let his warmth overtake your skin, eyes glazy and lidded as you look up at him, sleep deprivation so apparent in your face that it tugs at Eddie's heartstrings, seeing you this miserable. And not being able to do anything about it. Yet.
Quickly retrieving the lighter from his back pocket, he places the rollie on his lips, letting the igniting flame heat it quickly, sizzling sound as he inhales a small huff before passing it onto you calming you further.
You suck on it with a hum, watching the way Eddie quickly turns on the ignition, windows rolled down, the same relaxing tape playing over and over again, volume dimmed, Good Feeling by Violet Femmes serves as a background drop, one of your favorite songs, and of course, Eddie knows it.
The velvety dark sky steals your attention as you once again suck on the fragrant joint gently cradled between your fingers. Letting it engulf and numb you, for your bloodshot eyes to have a reason other than being restless.
A gentle breeze whispers through the cranked windows, rustling your hair in front of your face, making you giggle lightly. Three puffs, and you are already feeling giddy, "not too strong is it?" he asks, glancing at you with the biggest grin on his face, amber hues watching you intently.
"Nuh-uh," you hum, and his hand tenderly droops down to your thighs, giving you three gentle squeezes as a form of comfort. At least, he intends it to be for comfort.
But all you can think about is how thick and warm his fingertips are, cladded rings bringing a coldness that makes you hiss, tummy doing a flip as your hazy mind craves more.
It is the last piece of the puzzle you need to finally fall into that deep slumber, Eddie making you cum on his long fingers, curling inside of you, rings slicked with your juices, it's all you can think about.
You whine at your thoughts, throat growing dry at them, not knowing if it is cotton mouth or how stunning Eddie looks while focused on the road.
The perfect side profile that you can't help but admire; chiseled jaw with the slightest stubble that you'd do anything to have it rubbing against your clit right about now, Adam's apple bobbing slightly the more he gulped, lips plushy and so soft that you wanted nothing more than to bite into them, have them suckling your neck.
Fuck, this could be it, couldn't it?
You were already a bit dizzy, giving you enough courage to ask him to, and if he rejected you, you could always just turn it into a joke, couldn't you?
You rasp a desperate breath when his hands squeeze your thigh again, prominent veins making you mewl. His head cocks towards you in worry at the sound, "you okay?"
You barely register his words, gaze too focused on the tempting hold he has on you, "hmm?"
He quirks a brow, a smirk playing on his lips when he realizes how hazed you are, "are you hungry or something, sweetheart?"
Yeah, you were. Hungry for him.
You shake your head slightly. "You sure?" He asks, more attentive, and you can feel your wetness pool around your thighs, slicking you.
"Mhmm," you reply, head turning to meet his gaze, and when he slightly tilts his head, his shaggy bangs fall onto his forehead, making you gulp physically, he looks beautiful.
"Do you want anything?"
If he was any more attentive, you were going to crawl into his lap and grind on his bulge that hugged the print of Garfield on his sweatpants, "Nope," you gulped, prying your eyes away from the outline of his huge cock forcefully.
"Need anything?"
"You." The words slipped past your lips without any interference from you, it's like your subconscious was doing all the talking you had been so afraid of.
The insomnia and weed becoming a dangerous combo.
He choked out a laugh, cheeks crimson red, spreading across his bone like crushed raspberries. "Hah, funny aren't ya?"
He avoided your gaze, yet your head snapped to meet his. "Eddie- I-I mean it."
"Sweetheart," he mumbled, a low groan awaiting in his throat.
Doe-eyed, melting, and pleading hues finally met his. "P-please, Eddie, need it so bad, need to cum, relax," you coaxed, hand placed on his, squeezing it back, causing a drawl of sigh out of him.
He can't bring himself to ease into your touch, his lips quivering at the thought of finding you soaking for him, "Honey, you're high," he tries to reason, voice squeaky pitch, he wants it, so goddamn bad, but he can't take advantage of you in any way.
You huff, disagreeingly. "Oh, c'mon, Eddie, I just took like three huffs, you know I'm not a lightweight!"
"Sweetheart, I know but it doesn't feel right-"
"But I'm begging you to!" Your pleading voice crushes him, cock stirring just at your squeaky tone, you're going to be the fucking death of him.
"Y-you have no idea how fucking stupid I feel for turning you down when all I want to-" He sighed. "I don't wanna do anything that you might regret."
You huff at that, does he not realize how desperately you want him? How badly you have wanted him all this time?
"Fuck, Eddie, just-" Fingertips graze his once you grab his rough hands, they are powerless in your hold, and you're quick to dip them down your pajamas, rubbing them against your cotton panties that are now entirely soaked with your juices. "Do you feel that?" Your voice is shaky, and low groans rumble in his chest, his focus on the road becoming dizzy.
It feels surreal, you begging for him, for his fingers, how wet your panties feel just because of him. His brain can't comprehend a thought, your name slipping past his lips like prayers.
He can't help but press his hand further against your panties, just to feel more of you, cock straining against his own cage of boxers, knuckles white from the harsh grip he has on the steering wheel.
And you can see the desperation in his eyes, spurring you more and more. "How fucking wet I am just because you squeezed my thigh? Do you think I'd regret anything when I'm this soaked for you?"
He can't help it, roaring the engine again before he abruptly comes to a stop on the side of the road, his mind too dizzy to comprehend anyfuckingthing. "Fucking christ, baby, I-"
You interrupt him again, head lulling to his side, giving him those desperate, lewd eyes again. "I've wanted this for so fucking long, Eddie, p-please, you said you'd help me sleep... relax, I'm more than okay with it."
You know he's on the verge of caving in, he wants this as much as you do. "Angel..." he mumbles, tone so pornographically lustful that you feel the need to show him how much you want him.
You shove his hands inside of your panties in frustration, and he groans lightly at it, fingertips run up and down your slit, never entering your hole, taking his time to fully feel how badly you want him.
He collects your wetness at the tip of his digits, smearing them over the hood of your clit, earning a shallow gasp from you, just enough to break him, "Oh, Jesus fucking Christ, you're soaked," he grunts, eyes watching you hungrily.
"Mhmm, all for you," you hum, head thrown comfortably into the headrest, eyes lulling. He runs his fingertips over your sides, teasing, covering you in your juices, and all you can do is mewl for him.
A digit slips inside of you easily, making you moan so loud that Eddie's cock aches in the confinements of his sweats, admiring the way your mouth gapes at how good his fingers feel. "God, you're perfect like this, princess," he hums, fingertips circling around your clit, knowing exactly what to do to get you worked up.
It makes you whimper pathetically, turns out Eddie really does know you. So much so that all you want to do is cum on his thick fingers, have him take you home, make you bounce on his cock again and again.
He pushes another finger inside of you, watching the way your cunt takes his fingers all greedily. You're the one who's supposed to be high, yet he feels dizzy, so fucking dizzy that he can barely comprehend it.
This is all real, you just begged him to finger you, and now you're mewling on his fingers, pussy throbbing as he stretches you out slowly.
"That's it, baby," he encourages, listening to the sweet sounds of your whimpers, "doin' so good f'me," his praises drive you even crazier, and loud moans escape from your parted lips the more his thumb circles around your clit.
"So greedy, hmm?" He coos condescendingly, relishing in the pretty faces you make, his ring finger joining inside of your soppy cunt easily, "E-Eddie," you mumble, lost in him, fully.
His fingers pump in and out of you at a rough pace, getting you closer and closer to the edge, he can feel your cunt squeezing his ringed fingers desperately.
"You close, angel?" He grunts, and a sheen of heat creeps its way across your chest and up your throat at how good he is, all you can do is nod pathetically, too dizzy and too lost in his fingers to even speak.
You take your plump bottom lip between your teeth in an attempt to stiffle your pathetic moans, but once he adds another finger, cold rings brushing against your clit, you can't help yourself.
"E-Eddie, fuck!" You moan, and he watches in awe, keeps his praises up, eager to see what you look like when you cum. He knows you'll be even prettier, screaming out his name, soaking his fingers in your pretty juices.
Your chest heaves with how much you're feeling him, stuffed full of his fingers, you can't even begin to imagine what his cock would feel like inside of you. Shit, maybe next time.
You pathetically rut your hips into his fingers, and he groans so filthily that your body feels frail, "That's it, baby," he praises. "Use me, honey, use my fingers to get yourself off."
Your face contorts with the sweetest pain and pleasure, his fingers plunged deep inside of you, padded thumb still continuing it's circles. Once his fingers curl inside of you, you know you’re a fucking goner.
Each of his movements, his touch, ignites a fire within you that is heightened by the weed, you are so desperate to cum that you don't even realize how pathetically you've been soaking his fingers, so wet and Eddie relishes in it.
"Oh, f-fuck, I'm gonna cum!" You moan out once you feel that dizzying pleasure bubbling in your chest, he can feel your pussy flutter around his thick fingers, making his chest swell with pride. "Mhmm, just like that, darlin', cum on my fingers."
It's all the confirmation you need before you cry out his name again, back arching as pleasure explodes inside of your stomach, vision growing white and dizzy. Your fucked out face, pathetic moans, and your gaping mouth making Eddie's cock strain tighter and tighter, as if that’s even possible.
His fingers don't leave your soppy cunt until he makes sure you ride your orgasm out, relishing in the pretty expressions your face contorts to as you fall apart for him.
Bringing a stupid wide grin to his face that has you feeling giddier. The weight of what the two of you did doesn't dawn yet, you're too tired, too fucked out to care, and all Eddie can think about is going back to the trailer and rubbing one out while thinking about the pretty sounds you made, the pretty shapes your face took as you came on his fingers. His.
He'll think about how pretty your eyes look rolled all the way back inside of your head when he's slamming into you, cock stuffed inside of you, parted lips repeating his name like a fucking prayer. Your tight cunt fluttered around his cock, milking him dry.
With a groan, he brings his fingers to his mouth, licking clean the remains of you, pathetically groaning at how sweet you taste. You watch him with lulled eyes, breath growing heavier, and if you weren’t about to pass out, you’d beg him for more, have his hard cock stuffed inside of you.
“Tastes so goddamn sweet,” he grunts, licking any taste of you left off his lips, your sweet juices engrained in his tastebuds.
You blink quickly to process all of it, mind numbed out. Fuck, he’s making this so goddamn hard for you.
“E—Eddie,” you say breathlessly, chest heaving as a shy smile appears on your lips, mind hazy as you try to form words. "T-that was amazing, shit."
"Yeah?" He beams, the praise is all he needs. “Anything for you, sweetheart.”
Your eyes glimmered at his words, air between the two of you was charged with a sweet tension. Breaths almost synchronized with the way both of your chests rose and fell on the rhythm of what just fucking happened. And all the feelings that led up to it.
You wanted to talk about it, take this further, maybe even continue back home.
But sleep began to settle inside of you, eyelids betrayed your pent-up feelings for him, already drooping in surrender.
And of course, Eddie knew by the sheepish smile you gave him, you were almost on the brink of sleep, and it was more important than his stupid feelings because the two of you had all the time in the world to talk about... whatever this was, tomorrow.
But if you lost your sleepy state, he knew you'd never get it back, “You sleepy yet?" He asked, thoughtful, caring gaze watching you intently, making you nod.
"Mhmm," you hummed, "But, Eddie..."
"Yeah?" He prompted, eager to soak up each and every one of your words.
"I don't want this to be a one time thing," you admitted, shyly, your heart leaping out of your chest in excitement.
"Thank fucking God." Slipped past his lips unintentionally, causing a hearty giggle to bubble up within you, easing away all of your worries.
Pools of warmth swam in his gaze, fully melting into you. "Me neither, sweetheart," he whispered, starting the car again, engine humming to life.
He met you with a saccharine smile. "But we have all the time to talk about that tomorrow, promise."
It hung in the air, the promise, almost like a warm hug engulfing you. All the confirmation you need.
"You just go to sleep, now, honey, I'll carry you inside," he urged, pressing a light kiss onto your forehead.
"T-thank you," you hummed, resting your head comfortably, deep slumber not taking long to find you while he watched intently, mind still running with thoughts of you.
Both of you had no clue what would happen with this; yet, you were now sure that this wouldn't remain as a one-time thing.
After all, you had a hard time sleeping almost every night, thankfully, you would now have Eddie to fix that.
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fics#eddie munson oneshot
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Text
Free Use, Full Plate
Joel Miller x F!Reader
Masterlist
Wordcount: 1,741
Summary: Joel's frustrated after a long day at work and takes it out on your pussy. Basically just pwp
Warnings: 18+, unprotected p in v, assplay, fingering, f!oral receiving, consentual freeuse, breeding & house wife kink, food waste, reader has hair, breasts, and wears yoga pants. Joel calls reader sexy momma.
Notes: Just a life I wanna live, tysm to everyone who voted in this poll this was the winning vote. Ty @saradika-graphics for the divider.
Joel walks through the front door, tired and frustrated after a long day of work. The smell of dinner cooking fills the air, and he sees you bent over, grabbing a pot, your shirt riding up, revealing the small of your back.
You've had an agreement for a while now - free use, where Joel can take what he needs without any hesitation or resistance from you. It's a release for him, a way to let go of the frustrations of the day without taking them out on anything or anyone else.
As he approaches you, he can feel the tension in his body begin to ease. He reaches out and runs his hand over your shoulder, feeling the warmth of your skin beneath his fingers. You don't stop what you're doing, but he can hear your breathing quicken as he continues to touch you.
He pulls your shirt up and over your head, exposing your bare back. He leans down and presses his lips to your skin, feeling you shiver beneath his touch. He unclasps your bra, letting it fall to the floor.
As he cups your breasts in his hands, he can feel himself getting harder. He moves closer, pressing himself against you as he continues to touch you. You're still cooking, but he can hear the soft moans escaping your lips as he kneads your flesh.
He reaches down and undoes his pants, freeing his cock. He slides it between your legs, feeling the heat of your body through your stretchy yoga pants. No matter what was agreed upon Joel never pressured you to dress or look a certain way and it made you feel much more confident in yourself and your relationship. He rocks his hips back and forth, letting himself enjoy the sensation of touching you, even if it's just through your clothing.
“Mmm, Joel, you're home," you say, looking over your shoulder at him with a smile. "How was your day, my love?"
He doesn't answer right away, instead focusing on the feeling of your body against his. He can feel the heat of your pussy through your pants, and he presses himself against you harder, grinding his hips in slow circles.
“Don't wanna think about it. Just tell me what you're makin' baby," he finally says, his voice weak with desire. He slides his hands down your sides, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your pants. He pulls them down, exposing your bare ass. He takes a moment to appreciate the sight before him, getting on his knees and pushing his face right in there, taking the globes of your ass and making them jiggle onto his cheeks.
You giggle at the feeling, but you can't help feeling aroused as his large nose hits some of your folds as he shoves his face in as deep as he can, almost like he wants to suffocate the bad day away. "Just pasta," you reply, focusing on stirring the sauce so it doesn't burn.
He finally stands up and replies, "Smells delicious baby, just like you." he says, leaning down to press his nose into the crook of your neck, taking a deep inhale of your sent. “Mmm fuckin’ heaven.” He wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you back against him as he continues to grind his hips.
You let out a soft moan as he nips at your shoulder. You can feel yourself getting wetter, your body responding to his touch, but you try your best not to let dinner burn. He reaches down and slides a finger inside you, feeling how wet you are. He groans at the sensation.
"Joel," you say, your voice trembling with pleasure. "I'm almost ready to serve dinner."
"That's alright, love," he says, his voice strained with desire. "I can wait."
You turn around in his embrace to kiss him, but he stops you, his eyes darkening. He pats the countertop beside the stove. "C'mon, get up here darlin'."
"But the food." You point at the pan.
"You know, I could eat this whole dinner and still not be satiated in the right way. Now get on the damn counter, you sexy momma. Gonna fill you up real good.”
With those words, you scramble to the other side of the stove, sitting on the countertop. He starts rubbing his hands across your naked thighs, slowly working his way up until his hands reach the center of your chest.
“Come closer, sweetheart,” he whispers. “Wanna taste you.” He leans close then lowers his head and bites the tip of your nipple. Your nipples start to erect instantly, and your core feels tight. “Fuckin’ perfect.” He gets lower so his face is right between your legs.
Your stomach clenches as he kisses your inner thigh. “Joel…”
His eyes look up into yours. He pulls his mouth away just enough from your skin so he can talk, "Worry 'bout the sauce, I'm busy havin' my appetizer." His tongue swipes your clit, licking it gently before he begins sucking on the skin. You let out a soft sigh when his warm tongue touches your clit once more. You try to tend to the dinner currently cooking but it's near impossible to do so with him rubbing and sucking at you. “Keep stirring," he adds with a playful smirk. He slips two fingers between your legs, sliding them into your folds and circling one slowly before he plunges two more in. He starts moving faster. Your orgasm starts building in your belly.
"Mmmm, Joel..." you whine, grabbing onto the edge of the counter, digging your nails into the wooden surface. "I'm gonna come…" You start thrusting against his hand.
Joel stands up, not letting you finish and takes a step back, his eyes roaming over your naked body. "You're so fucking beautiful, baby, I'm the luckiest man," he says, his voice loaded with desire. He reaches out and runs his hand over your breast, tweaking your nipple between his fingers.
You gasp at the sensation, your body already on edge from his earlier ministrations. "Joel, I need to finish dinner," you say, trying to keep your voice steady.
"I know, darlin," he says, his hand sliding down your stomach and between your legs. He starts rubbing your clit in slow circles, making you moan with pleasure. "I won't let you burn it."
He helps you off the counter and turns you around so you're facing the stove, your naked ass pressed against his hips. He reaches around you and grabs a pan of garlic bread, placing it in the oven. "Now, let's get back to work," he says, his voice low and seductive.
He slides his cock between your legs, the head of his shaft pressing against your wet folds. He starts rocking his hips back and forth until he slides inside you, fucking you slowly and deeply. "Keep stirring, baby," he says, his lips pressed against your ear.
You cry out as he hits that sweet spot inside you, your body trembling with pleasure. "Joel, I'm gonna come," you gasp, your fingers tightening around the spoon.
"Not yet," he commands, his hand reaching around to rub your clit.
He starts fucking you harder, his hips slapping against your ass. You can feel yourself getting close, your orgasm building deep in your belly. "Joel, please," you beg, your voice trembling.
He reaches up and grabs your hair, pulling your head back so he can kiss your neck. "Uh-uh, you wait till I say so," he growls, his teeth scraping against your skin.
Joel continues to thrust into you, his pace steady and relentless. You can feel your orgasm right on the brink, your body feels like it might explode "Joel, please," you whimper, your fingers tightening around the spoon you were supposed to be stiring the sauce with. "Joel, I can't, m'gonna come please," you gasp, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts.
“Yes you can, baby just a little more,” he says, pulling your hair and kissing the side of your head, holding onto you tightly. “Wanna fill you up, make you round and beautiful.” He slams into you, his balls hitting your ass. You feel juices dripping from his length, mixing in with your own fluids as they drip down your leg and onto the floor. He pushes his hips in harder and harder, causing you to cry out as you feel the intensity of his hard, thick flesh hitting your walls.
You can feel your heart racing as well, your mind clouded with lust and pleasure. "Oh fuck, oh god, Joel,” you pant, squeezing your eyes shut and gripping the edge of the countertop for dear life as you feel your climax building. “Oh Joel! I'm coming'!" You cry out as your body convulses against him. You hear him release a long, loud, gutteral moan, releasing into you.
As you come down from your high, he presses his forehead against your shoulder, breathing hard as he lets go of your hips. He finally pulls out, his cock glistening, soaked with your juices. He turns you around pulling you in close. "I think dinner's ready," he says, smirking.
You laugh and wrap your arms around his waist, "I think you're right," you say, your hands running over his chest. You open the oven door to be met with disappointment. The garlic bread is burnt to a crisp, and so is the sauce.
Joel walks up behind you, "you orderin' or am I?"
You both can't help but chuckle at the situation and decide to order pizza, knowing it's a quick and easy solution. Joel wraps his arms around you as he gives you his phone to search for a local pizza place online, placing the order together.
Once the order is placed, you turn around in his arms, looking up at him playfully pouting, "I guess we'll have to settle for pizza tonight."
Joel leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips, whispering, "I'd eat pizza every night if it meant I could come home to you like this."
#joel miller x reader#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller smut#joel miller#pedro pascal#tlou fanfiction#pedro pascal fanfiction#joel miller x f!reader#dom!joel miller
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