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steddielations · 9 months

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nsfw text, bdsm, sub eddie

Eddie’s always the more dominant one running the show with his hookups. It’s nice but it’s been so long since someone put him down, cleared his mind of everything except pleasing and being pleased.

He doesn’t know why he complains about it to Steve, who’s as golden vanilla as they come, who only offers a snort as he passes the joint back, “Eddie Munson can’t find someone who wants to slap him around? I can’t believe it.”

Eddie takes a disgruntled puff as Steve suggests he looks through their old high school yearbook, call up some of those guys that would gladly take a swing at him.

Eddie tries to tell him it’s not just about getting slapped around, it’s the whole mentality of it. The weed must be getting to his head, he can’t find the right words, but Eddie being Eddie, nerdy about anything that piques his interest, from dnd to submission, he’s got it all written down in his journal.

He’s not even all that high, doesn’t know why he willingly hands it over to Steve beside him on the couch, or why his neck prickles with heat even though few things truly embarrass him, or why it feels kinda good.

Steve almost teases him again but Eddie already looks strangely timid about showing him. It’s Eddie, so writing a guide for his weird sex is a very Eddie thing, and maybe Steve’s a little endeared by it, whatever. So he doesn’t joke, he blinks the glaze from his eyes and scans the page.

He doesn’t know a ton about this stuff, nothing beyond a couple girls asking him to spank them a little or rest a hand on their throat, it gave him a rush too but he tried not to think too hard about why. He expects to see things like that in Eddie’s journal and yeah there’s some, but also, Eddie’s written out why he wants what he wants.

His mind is loud. That riot of energy that surrounds Eddie, it’s hectic inside too, buzzing next to Steve even now. Almost a magnetic pull, sometimes Steve gives in, touches Eddie’s shoulder or his knee, just to feel his static, how it flutters and then calms under his hand. To be settled, Eddie’s journal says, to let his mind float, to feel nothing but intensely good, to trust someone else to think for him.

Steve’s seen Eddie parading around, the way he basks in any kind of attention and clearly enjoys having his way, but Steve can see the thrill of having that taken away from him. To be put down, the journal says, made to feel small with words, some mean and some sweet, with hands, both rough and soft. Eddie wants to be held down and fucked, overwhelmed to tears and praised for taking it, to be told he’s a good boy despite himself.

Steve’s face heats, doesn’t know why he’s thinking about what it’s like to make Eddie Munson feel small, to turn all his big fancy words to mush in that loud mouth that drives Steve crazy sometimes, to be the one this absolute hell of a boy wants to be good for.

Eddie suddenly reaches out, “Okay I think that’s—”

“Wait, I wasn’t done,” Steve holds onto the journal, but doesn’t keep reading, seeing how Eddie looks more flustered than Steve’s ever seen him.

“Harrington, this is getting kinda humiliating, man.”

Steve smirks before he can stop himself. “Thought that’s what you wanted.”

Eddie’s eyes go wide, sinking back against the couch. His face flushes slightly red in a way that puts a strange flutter in Steve’s stomach, seeing how he affected Eddie like that. His hand lands on Eddie’s thigh before he realizes he’s reaching out, feeling how he tenses then relaxes under the touch, looking as silently shocked as Steve feels.

“Not judging, Eddie, I swear. Just let me finish reading, okay?”

Eddie scoffs a nervous laugh, fidgeting and covering his mouth as he nods.

Steve goes back to the journal and his hand tightens just a bit when he sees what’s there. Eddie mutters something, biting down on his knuckles but he doesn’t pull away. It all makes Steve‘s palm heat up against his thigh, reading the next thing Eddie wants.

To be spanked, just hard enough, it’s more about the shame of the sting, the rush that comes from being a little helpless, the release that comes when his body accepts it all as pleasure. Steve pictures it, Eddie Munson, who treats life like a stage only he was meant to walk on, bent over and taking each hit. The way he’d writhe and bask in the humiliation, finally getting treated like the little star of the freakshow he loves to be.

The flutter in Steve’s stomach twists tight and hot because in his weed-hazy mind, it’s his lap that Eddie is lying across, it’s his palm stinging and making Eddie whimper, it’s him that Eddie’s looking up at with watery eyes begging to be ruined.

Steve swallows thickly when he comes to the next thing. The handcuffs. He’s always been transfixed by Eddie’s hands, how nice they look in all his bulky silver rings and chain bracelets.

He wonders if Eddie would look even better in handcuffs.

His eyes wander over to Eddie’s hands again, where he still happens to have two fingers bitten between his teeth, cheeks flushed and eyes widened at Steve. It’s a sight Steve doesn’t have time to really revel in how it makes him feel because Eddie darts forward, snatching the journal.

“Alright okay, I think you get it, the freak is into freaky shit, big surprise.”

Steve drags a hand through his hair, plays it cool even though he’s hot all over for some reason. “Yeah, you’re pretty freaky, but it doesn’t seem like much you’re asking for. I mean, nothing I couldn’t see myself doing.”

And Steve didn’t mean it like that, did he? Eddie seems to think so, he starts floundering to put the journal away, nervously laughing and muttering again. Steve watches him, trying to figure out why he likes seeing Eddie so flustered, then Eddie suddenly stops.

His eyes flick down to Steve’s lap and—

Oh.

“Steve… why do you have a boner right now?”

#this one’s from twt hehe #steddie #steddie smut #eddie munson #rueswriting #steve harrington #steddie fic #steddie ficlet #mp

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ghcstao3 · 4 months

Text

“Come on, stupid thing. Work.”

Soap has been toying with an old radio for the better part of an hour now, ever since he’d gone digging through the safehouse’s storage and discovered the thing. Ghost’s headache has only grown since.

“This fuckin’—“ Soap mutters a string of curses under his breath. He smacks the side of the small device. “Is a spot of entertainment too much to ask for? Christ.”

Right. Because they’re trapped in the cabin overnight at least, and according to Soap, that demands they find something to pass the time. Unfortunately the deck of cards Soap had also pulled out was missing half its count, and the books on the shelves have too-faded print between their insect-eaten pages, so the radio it is.

God forbid they sit in silence and mind their own.

Finally, the wretched thing crackles to life. It’s all static as Soap searches through frequencies, and Ghost has to suppress a groan. Even Soap’s mumbling had been more bearable.

“Hold on… I think… yes!”

The faintest melody filters through the ancient speaker, just a channel of classical music since it’d be unlikely that much else would be reaching them where they’re holed up.

Ghost is making a mental count of his inventory for the nth time when a hand appears in front of his face, beckoning. Ghost raises an eyebrow at the mischievous look on Soap’s face.

“Dance with me, LT,” he says. “Not taking no for an answer after all the trouble I’ve just been through.”

“I don’t dance, sergeant,” Ghost replies flatly. “Find a better partner. That’ll waste your time.”

“You’re such a wet blanket.” Soap rolls his eyes, but still doesn’t retract his hand. “It’s just us. I won’t tell anyone if the big, bad Ghost does a bit of dancing. Swear it.”

Ghost scoffs. Soap snatches his arm and hauls Ghost to his feet despite his resistance. The music fades and resurges with the radio’s signal as Soap drapes Ghost’s arms over his shoulders and settles his own hands on Ghost’s waist.

“Not takin’ the piss, are you?” Ghost grumbles. “Gonna teach me how to waltz, Johnny?”

“Maybe I will,” Soap says matter-of-factly. “‘S that a problem, Lieutenant Riley?”

Ghost frowns. “Is when you use my full name.”

Soap snorts. “Yeah, okay. Just shut up and sway to the music. Indulge me a smidge, would you?”

Though Ghost huffs, for whatever reason he can’t find it in himself to pull away.

As they do, in fact, sway—for a brief, terrifying moment, he thinks that maybe this isn’t the worst thing in the world, like he thought it’d be at first. Like he is trying to argue his brain into believing.

And he doesn’t mean the dancing part itself.

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #soapghost #ghostsoap #ghost x soap #ghoap #writing

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circeyoru · 2 months

Note

Yandere Alastor react to soul owner reader it hurt [ again ] but this time it's a badly injury.

Let's just say the reader got sneak attack by some demon.

[ Who ever that demon is Alastor not going let that demon go in the most peaceful way ever ]

Nothing much I just want to see Alastor being really protected and in his true form.

After he's finished with that demon Alastor quickly helped the reader and being really really protected if anyone getting a bit just a little bit too close Alastor well standing at deadly also really clingy like cleaning more than usual.

[ I think the reader understand why but get a bit annoying but understand why ]

That's all I got like I said before stay healthy and strong don't forget to drink water too!

Go to MASTERLIST for the works. This ask is for {Unwanted Souls}.

I gotcha! I'm setting this as before Alastor gave you his soul. We don't have enough moments for those times. So this one will be a bit long~

Enjoy!

It was a simple shopping trip. One simple shopping trip. In and out. As simple as that. A 3-year-old would have gotten things done as easily. But nooooo. This is Hell, things are bound to be troublesome.

Like this stupid scene.

"Ugh..." You gripped onto your dominant arm, a big gush that covered your arm with blood oozing out of it. One of your eyes squeezed shut from the pain, and you sat in the debris of what remained on the shelves of canned food. Your legs had long given out from the knockout and impact. "What's your problem?"

"Maybe you should have given me everything, instead of being such a f**ker and act all cool and sh*t." The demon snarled, picking up a random beer bottle to aim another throw.

You closed your eyes shut; you just have to take it and let this stupid demon have his fun unless it was of a sexual nature, then you can heal yourself and get home to your comfortable anime and music. Your body tensed as you mentally prepared what's to come.

Only, it didn't. Instead, there was a loud static that rang.

Your good eye opened and widened a bit when you saw the scene in front of you.

"Dear, you were taking a while. I knew I should have come with you instead of standing guard." Alastor's radio-filtered voice growled threateningly while his antlers grew in size and length. His sclera turned black, his iris glowed red, and his form enlarged to tower over the market shelves.

"Your funeral.." You sighed as your book holster, picking out your book and turning to a page to rip it out and blow at it. A transparent jelly-like substance dome formed around you, a barrier. "Honest, I warned you."

The demon laughed, "You think this is intimidating? Sure, go ahead and kill me. Demons can't die unless with those flying f**ker's f**king weapons anyway!"

You rolled your eyes. At this point, this demon was being a complete idiot that death was too good of an end to give. "Yeah... A quick and painless death is not exactly his style." Your eyes wandered to the side, "Ask the souls in his broadcast later on."

"Broadcast?" The demon turned its head back to Alastor, fear and regret on its face. "What..."

You tried your best to ignore the demon's screams and Alastor's maniacal laughter. The nearby demons also tried but failed to leave the vicinity. But it was hard to ignore the occasional blood splatters that came in contact with your shield dome, every time red came into your peripheral vision, you unconsciously flinched. It has gotten to the point that there were limbs thrown all around the place. You shouldn't have glanced over to Alastor because you saw him devouring a demon whole in his giant form.

You turned away. Sure Hell was disturbing and you watch similar things, but this was so much different when experiencing in real life. Not to mention, Alastor was your roommate at the moment. At times like these that you wonder if he even needed you saving him from that time.

Silently, you took out your pages to weakly scribble on the page for a light form of healing. When you were done, there wasn't a wound on your body to prove your pain or the torn clothes. Still, you didn't move because you didn't want to be a moving target to the crazy psycho demon who was having his fun.

The last straw was made when the demon's mangled body was dragged into the shadows while claws tried to save its fate. "Hey! Help me! Please! I'm sorry! Mercy!"

Alastor grinned, enjoying and savouring the pleading demon that was showing the two of you such a pitiful display. The sick joy he felt when he brought the poor thing to your mercy. Oh, this has to be love. He can't imagine another being taking away attention that was rightfully his but you.

And that cold and indifferent in your eyes, that pretty face that only displayed the hint of annoyance and disgust to the demon. "Like I told you when you first stupidly approached me: You'll regret talking to me."

Alastor's head snapped to the side, the shadows dragged the demon into his cane. Screams of the demon echoed but then silence came. Another voice of screams to the endless broadcast of torture.

As quick as it started, it ended. Alastor shrank down, fixing up his outfit before his eyes wandered to where you were. He made quick strides to you and bowed in a manner that was so familiar to a certain character. "My Dear, everything's dealt with."

The barrier dropped after a few seconds when you accessed that he was speaking the truth. It was more in the way of knowing he wouldn't direct his bloodthirsty destruction onto you as well. Since you weren't very nice to him, "So it would appear."

Alastor's eyes narrowed while his smile grew, solely focused on your weakened self. "May I carry you back? I can't imagine letting myself watch you limp through the streets!"

You looked away with a scowl and a slight frown, you didn't want to admit it, but you were in no condition to walk back and your healing took a bit out of you. "Fine. Just this once."

Swiftly, without missing a beat, Alastor already had you in his arms like one would carry a princess or lady. "Wonderful! I'll treasure this moment!"

You made yourself comfortable, you knew Alastor would take the long way home, you played with your fingers while you listened to his heartbeat that was a bit fast. You peeked up at him, he was keeping a watchful eye on the demons around.

"Don't get used to this. You're leaving soon."

Alastor didn't say anything, but his laugh told you he saw it as one hell of a joke.

Later on when you look back on this moment, you'll be wondering if that was meant for him to hear, or yourself.

#Circe's Nighty Writings #alastor imagine #alastor x reader #alastor x y/n #alastor x you #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction #alastor #hazbin hotel oneshots #yandere alastor #yandere alastor x reader #yandere hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #hazbin hotel imagines #Unwanted Soul

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emotionoitme · 10 months

Text

human, for a minute

part three of about a girl

read part two here

carmy berzatto x reader

warnings: angst, mentions of a stalker, mutual pining feels, crying, carmen in denial, a hint of steaminess

wc: 4.7k

a/n: angst chapter!!!!! i hope i make u all cry >:) please leave me a comment to let me know what you think! <3 i’ll be posting a spotify playlist link on my page for the series soon. if you’re enjoying the story stay tuned for one more part!

shame - human, for a minute

the phone rings again, for what seems to be the fiftieth time, blaring through the restaurant in a piercing shrill. clamor of utensils and dishware, the occasional shout of instruction breaking the static noise. the man feels a headache creeping on, trying to force himself to not check the clock again. it hadn’t been long since he last checked it, and he knew he would regret it the moment he did. his eyes dart upwards. it’s 1:35.

she wasn't supposed to come in until 3, scheduled to close that night, he reminds himself. in that moment he craved the sense of peace she brought to the environment, the noticeable ease in dinner services within the past five months of her employment reasserting her essentiality. orders were smoother, customers were happier, shifts seemed shorter. he also found it thoroughly grounding to be able to look up from his work, through the expo window and watch her for just a moment, not that he would admit to it. he had dropped her off at home on his way to the restaurant that morning, watching her walk up her complex stairs clad in a white shirt and a pair of hanes, both borrowed, and noticeably oversized.

he cuts back to his task at hand, setting a plate down, drizzling a sauce over the surface, not checking the clock.

he thinks back to when he had gently woken her hours earlier. slipping out of bed at the sound of his alarm, hand groggily coming to rub his face, making his way to the bathroom. he practically forgot she was there in his tired haze, the memories of the night flooding back to him when he returned to the bedroom, staring at her sleeping form. his heart inexplicably ached at the sight as he gently opened his dresser drawers, beginning to get ready for work. he dresses, mentally rattling off things that need to be done at the restaurant, running his hands through his unruly bed head. he brushes his teeth, locates his keys and wallet, and puts on his socks all before making his way back over to the sleeping girl.

he wanted to leave her there, come back home and find her waiting there just for him. the man checked the time on his phone, nearing 7 o’clock. he leans over the bed, placing a hand on her side and lightly rubbing. she shifts, blinking awake, meeting his eyes.

“hey,” he greets softly, brushing her hair behind her ear, resting his hand on her for a moment. she sleepily smiles, eyes bleary.

“morning,” she responds quietly, looking him over, “you gotta go?”

he nods, internalizing his disappointment, removing his hand from her hair.

“okay,” she responds, rubbing her eyes, “i’ll get up.” she slowly sits up, holding the blanket to her bare chest, trying to blink away the sleepiness. carmy notices the slight sway in her seated form, eyes heavy, watching a small shiver pass over her.

“you can stay,” he tells her, “go back to sleep if you want.”

she looks up to his standing form, tempted to accept his offer, wanting nothing more than to stay cozied up in a bed that smells like him. she rationalizes the situation, though, tying her hair up out of her face. she wasn’t going to overstay her welcome, telling herself, he’s just trying to be nice.

“you’re not scared of me snooping through your stuff?” she asks, eyebrow raising a bit. he lets out a laugh, slightly taken aback by her question.

“would you?” he asks.

she thinks for a moment, head tilting.

“probably not…but you would never know if i did,” she answers, grinning. he smiles in amusement, quickly raking his eyes over her face, trailing down to her collarbones, shoulders, exposed back.

“do you think you could take me home?” she asks, “on your way to work?”

“yeah,” he answers, “yeah, of course.” to which she smiles in response.

she goes to get out of bed when she remembers her nudity concealed by the sheet, pausing, embarrassment evident on her face. he smiles at her hesitation, the girl acting as if he hadn’t seen her stark naked the night before. she turns to him, “can i also borrow something to wear home?” she asks, “please? i wanna get back in bed.”

in that moment he couldn’t fathom saying no to her, immediately grabbing her a few things she could choose from, her selecting a plain white shirt and a pair of his checkered boxers. she gets out of bed, skin raised in goosebumps from the chill morning, slipping his shirt over her head, then walking past carmen to the living room, searching for her discarded panties. the man watched her, entranced, surprised at how viscerally affected he was at the sight. he loved the way she looked in his clothes, debating telling her to keep them forever.

he tries to ignore the implications of their time together, as he stands over the finished plate, phone on the wall still ringing.

“hands!” he calls, moving away from the dish, wiping his hands on the rag draped over his shoulder.

fuck, he thinks, what am i doing?

everything had been moving so fast— having told himself prior he wouldn’t pursue her at all, let alone invite her to stay the night wrapped in his arms, mind completely clouded with the thought of her. he thinks to his initial intention, a quick hookup, something to help him let off some steam, alleviate the pressure that built within him the second he laid eyes on her. it didn’t alleviate anything, though, finding himself stuck on the thought of her more now than ever.

“fuck, can i get some hands, please?” carmen yells out, already busied by the next task, eyebrows furrowed and jaw tight.

it was like he was trying to quit a drug by injecting it directly into his veins, incessantly tortured by his inner dilemma surrounding her. it was apparent to many that the restaurant required her help, especially amidst a rush much like the one happening now. he knew this. knew that she couldn’t continue to work here if the two of them were to grow closer than they already had, their current relationship being a major conflict of interest, to say the least.

gotta put an end to it, he tells himself, chest tightening at the thought. he shakes this away, takes a deep breath and refocuses himself on his work. he glances up at the clock again. an hour left. he rips his eyes away, mentally chastising himself.

i have to tell her today, the thought creating a sinking in his stomach.

—

she flings open the heavy metal door, quickly finding safety inside, heart rapidly beating from her rushed pace. she lets out a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. she walks further inside, opening a locker and setting her bag down, zoning out for a second, deeply perturbed by what she had experienced on her commute.

“hey, welcome in,” she hears a chipper voice, turning to see sydney.

“hey. thanks chef,” she responds softly, taking a moment to process the simple greeting, tying her hair back out of her face. the girl, heavy in thought, slowly makes her way to the front of store, passing by carmen’s office, his door ajar.

“hey, chef,” she hears him call out to her. she pauses, turning to the seated man.

“hi,” she gently greets, attempting to silence the waver in her tone. she pauses, looking at him, debating to tell him what happened.

“you okay?” he asks, concern on his face. she decides to shake it off, wanting to get through this shift without any tears, go home, crawl under her covers and never come out again.

“yeah,” she nods, “i’m okay.”

carmen keeps the same expression, tilting his head slightly, not fully believing her. she looks away from him, feeling as if by locking eyes she would bare her soul. he narrows his gaze, studying the girl, and she feels herself cracking.

“i’ll tell you later,” she compromises, crossing her arms.

“okay,” he accepts, nodding, eyeing her form before she turns to walk to the front of house.

the man feels a slight churn in his stomach, wondering if she would beat him to the conversation he wanted to initiate. except she had looked pale, almost like she had seen a ghost. he rubs his hand over his face, leaning back in his chair, letting out a heavy sigh.

the dinner shift that night was hectic beyond belief. broken dishes, incorrect tickets, increased waiting times— the kitchen was tense, carmen rounding off orders, sydney bustling back and forth between stations to assist. the usual rhythm the dinner crew seemed to fall into proved to be virtually nonexistent. the young woman at the front blamed herself for his, her head completely out of it tonight. she had punched in orders wrong, mixed up drink requests, misplaced seating sections. she brought her hand up to rub her forehead, trying to fix an error she had entered into their system, brain pulsing with a headache. she refused to check the clock, knowing she must be only four or five hours in at this point. her brain felt foggy, clouded by the jarring things that had been said to her on her walk to work.

i’ll get some cold water and go take a breath in the back, she thinks, trying to mentally encourage herself through the shift. she quickly walks to the back, trying to be as fast as she can, squeezing through the kitchen and darting for the back room. her body feels hot, panicked, as she nears the last turn.

“corner!” she hears all too late, slamming face first into a firm chest, the impact knocking the air out of her lungs for a moment.

“shit!” he curses, tightly grabbing her hips on instinct to steady her. she lets out a labored breath, bringing her head up to her forehead, pounding even harder. she looks up to meet carmy’s gaze, embarrassment on her face.

“corner, chef?” he asks, brow creased, letting his hands linger for a moment before letting go of her.

“i’m sorry, chef,” she breathes out, tears brimming at her eyes, a waver in her tone. the frustration on his face is replaced by a look of concern, bringing his hand to touch her arm.

“hey,” he says softly, “you alright?”

she takes a deep breath, knot heavy at the back of her throat.

“i’m alright,” she answers gently, “i just need a second.”

he softly says her name, deeply searching her eyes as if they would present to him all her troubles.

“i just don’t wanna think about it right now,” she whispers, lip beginning to tremble.

“okay, sweetheart, that’s fine,” he reassures her, the name slipping off his tongue unintentionally. she wants to cry, dive into his arms hearing his soft tone, quickly wiping a tear before it can slip down her face.

“why don’t you go sit in the office, huh? take a breather,” he suggests.

she nods, looking down to her shoes. he gives her arm a soft pat before removing it altogether, walking past her to the kitchen. the sight of her anguish was admittedly difficult for carmen to see, his mind rattling with possibilities of what could be upsetting her so badly. he waited in anticipation for closing time, trying to keep a close eye on the girl throughout the night, who seemed to be falling back into rhythm after her short break. the last three hours of business wrapped up quickly, staff numbers dwindling more and more as the night progressed. carmy spent the last thirty minutes of the night in his confined office, sorting through licenses and finalizing next week’s schedule into the system. he turns the computer off, closing his eyes for a moment to alleviate the strain he felt, reveling in the quiet. rising from the chair and stretching, he walks through the small office door, turning the corner to come into the kitchen. his eyes land on her, wiping the pristine flat top with a dry rag. she looks up at the movement, hard gaze softening at the sight of him.

“hey,” she greets softly, “i’m all done. just finishing the counters.”

“looks great, thank you,” he returns, nodding. she gives a small smile at the praise but he can still notice a heaviness upon her demeanor, eyes more dull than they usually are.

“i’m, uh, just gonna smoke,” he continues, “then i’ll take you home, alright?”

she nods. “thank you,” meeting his gaze, drifting her eyes over his incredibly handsome face. she doesn’t make any small talk, drying the last wet spot and walking to the back to toss the dirty towel in a hamper. carmen walks back into his office, removing his apron and pulling his wallet, keys, cigarettes from the drawer. he then switches off the small desk lamp, coating the room in thick darkness. he emerges towards the glow of the kitchen fluorescents, the girl washing her hands, drying them, and walking to retrieve her belongings out of a locker. they silently make their way outside, carmy turning off the lights behind them and shutting the back door. they both revel in the fresh air of the cool night, a sense of serenity in the silence that engulfed the alleyway. he hears her take a deep breath, fishing a cigarette from his carton and placing it in between his lips. he shoves his hand into his pocket, finding only his wallet and keys. he checks his other one, then the back pockets.

“fuck,” he swears, head falling back against the metal door, nerves pricking with inclination. he turns to the non-smoker in a glimpse of yielding hope, “you got a light?” he asks. she stares forward, fixated on the same point, leaning against the same door. it takes her a second for her to meet his eyes in a glance, her response delayed

“lighter? uh, yeah i think,” she answers, beginning to dig through her bag. she pulls out a bright blue bic, and he chuckles in relief. she hands it to the man, his fingers sliding over hers as he takes it from her. carmy ignites the flame, bringing it to the tip of the cigarette and deeply inhaling, a noticeable tension subsiding within him. he goes to hand the lighter back to her.

“keep it,” she tells him, bumping her shoulder against his lightly. he smiles, pocketing the blue object.

“thank you,” he responds, genuinely, taking another long drag. the two share a beat of silence, the girl unmoving from her position, shoulder flush against his. a breeze sweeps through the street, calm after the storm.

he clears his throat.

“so you, uh, gonna tell me what happened?” his tone soft, keeping his eyes trained forward. he feels her deeply inhale, mentally preparing himself for the worst. she thinks for a moment, piecing together her explanation. a cloud of smoke seeps through the alleyway from carmen.

“you know how i used to work at ricky’s?” she starts. he glances at her, nodding. “well, um,” she continues, “there was this regular that we had, some older guy. he was always there during my shifts,” she hesitates, “and, uh, he turned out to be kind of a creep.”

carmen turns to her, watching her closely now.

“like, he would wait for outside for me until i was off and try to talk to me,” she explains, voice beginning to strain, “and, uh, he got my phone number somehow? and started sending me these terrible messages.” the man holds her in an unwavering gaze, his jaw tightening. he takes a drag of his cigarette, watching her.

“so, i got a new number,” she clarifies, “and uh, a new job,” glancing at him, “and everything stopped.” her eyes start to brim with tears.

“okay,” he encourages, eyebrows deeply furrowed, but tone soft and sweet. he stubs his cigarette out, tossing it. she takes a shaky breath.

“and then this morning i was walking here,” quickly bringing her hand up to wipe a stray tear, “and this truck pulled up next to me,” her throat grows tight and hot, “and it was him, carmy,” she lets out in a sob. he instinctively pulls her into his arms, wrapping around her tightly, resting his head on hers. his gaze was fixated behind the girl on the ground, a hot wave of anger burning beneath his skin.

“what happened?” he asks, an urgency in his words.

she buries her face into his chest, slightly shaking, tears soaking his white shirt.

“he said all these…horrible things to me,” she sobs out, grabbing onto him as if he were her lifeline. he puts his hand on her hip, pulling back slightly to look at her, worry spread over his features, tears pouring down her cheeks, face flushed.

“hey,” he says in a concerned tone, her puffy eyes coming to meet his. carmen tightens the arm around her back, whispering her name, “what did he say to you, baby?” he really never means to call her that, it just slips out.

she bites back a sob, wishing she could melt into the man— escape from everything, remain engulfed in the soothing warmth of his safety forever.

“i can’t, carmy,” she cries, shaking her head. he feels a pit in his stomach, anxiety prickling through his body.

“okay,” he concedes, nodding, “that’s okay, you don’t have to right now.” he scans her face, bringing a hand to her cheek and gently wiping the tears from her eyes.

“you don’t have anything to worry about now,” he tells her, voice low, “i’m gonna take care of you, okay? that fucko isn’t gonna come anywhere near you,” he asserts, gripping her tightly.

“okay,” she whispers, the weightless feeling of the tremendous fear alleviating in her chest.

“let’s get you home, yeah?” he asks her, watching the girl shut her eyes, nodding, a few stray tears rolling down her cheek and sliding off her jaw, bringing her sleeves up to dry them. carmy keeps his hand wrapped around her hip, turning to slowly walk her to the car. he felt an overwhelming possessiveness clouding his rationality— an unyielding urge to do whatever he can to protect her, the thought of another man even looking at her wrong electrifying him with anger. they arrive at the passenger’s side, carmy opening the door for her and helping her into the car as she mutters a soft thanks. he closes her door, letting out a deep sigh, plagued by indecision, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the dark car window. the answer would be incredibly simple had he chosen to go with his heart, but carmen was reluctant in trusting something that had previously brought him only distraction and turmoil. he’s gonna be logical about this, he decides, reassuring himself no good boss should be fucking around with his young employees. he wanted to be a good man to her, too, feeling undeserving of her attention, her loving gaze. he makes his way to the driver’s door, getting into the car. he starts the ignition, pulling out of the alleyway into the street, turning in the direction of her apartment. the short ride was quiet, the exception of a few spare sniffles sounding from the girl. a soft melody played on the radio, drowning out the hum of the road. he glances to her, the girl’s gaze fixed on the passing surroundings outside her window. he turns down the music, slightly.

“you did good today,” he praises, impressed by her resilience. she lets out a scoff.

“i cried in your office for like ten minutes straight,” she responds, watching the light of the moving street lamps bleed together.

“i know,” his voice gentle, low, “i’m still proud of ‘ya,” he tells the sulking girl. she finds herself start to smile very softly at this, the man’s words warming the chill she had felt since being approached by the strange man. he slowly pulls up to her complex, shifting the gear into park, the girl undoing her seatbelt.

“carm,” she calls, directing the man’s attention to her, eyes expectantly meeting hers. she feels at a bit lost for words, unsure of how to express the tremendous gratitude she felt for him, how to express to him how much she feels she needs him. so instead she just leans forward, throwing her arms around the man, burying her head into his neck. he lets out a breath at the unexpected touch, wrapping his arms around her, bringing a hand up to grasp the back of her neck.

“thank you,” she whispers into him, “for everything.”

his heart clenches, a deep ache growing in his chest.

“you shouldn’t thank me,” he softly responds, holding her close to him, feeling entirely unworthy of the gratitude, knowing soon enough he would have to hurt her— end things completely.

she pulls back, bringing her forehead to his, closing her eyes.

“come inside?” she asks him, breath gracing his lips, “please,” she pleads.

carmen’s eyes flutter shut, sliding his hand from the back of her neck to the side, grabbing, savoring her sweet scent. he feels something ignite within him touching her like this, nose brushing against hers. he wants so badly to lean forward, engulf her lips in his, taste her. he lets out a groan, forcing himself to pull away from her, dropping his hand from her neck. he sighs, hesitating for a moment, fighting against every urge within him.

“i, uh… i can’t,” he tells her, drawing his gaze away from her, towards the illumination of his headlamps on the asphalt. she presses her hands onto the center console, turning and leaning over it to the man. she brings a hand to his face, pulling him in slightly, dipping her head into his neck to gently pepper kisses along his skin. her hand slides to his firm chest, pressing into him. his head falls back, clenching his jaw, rationality crumbling rapidly beneath her lips.

“please, carmy,” she prays into his skin, “come make me feel better,” biting to leave a small mark. he feels hot from the inside out, blood rushes through him, a growing pulse beneath his pants. he takes a deep breath, trying to recenter himself, focus on anything but the feeling of her against him. he says her name, sternly, the girl pulling away at his tone, meeting his gaze. he shuts his eyes tightly, running a hand over his face.

i guess it’s now or never.

“we, uh… we can’t,” he sighs, pausing, piecing his words together. “we can’t do this anymore.”

her expression remains flat, brows slightly furrowed.

“do what?” she asks carefully, sitting back in her seat, away from him. he just looks at her, implication in his silence. her brows set further, biting her lip to stop it from trembling. the look in her eyes is almost disbelief, a gnawing forms deep within carmen’s stomach. she shakes her head, slightly.

“where is this coming from?” she asks, voice quiet. he can’t bring himself to meet her eyes in the moment.

“i don’t want this to go… too far,” he hesitates, throwing her a quick glance, “I don't-,” pushing his hair back, taking a breath. she brings her hand to rest on his, moving closer.

“i don’t want to hurt you,” he admits, locking eyes with her, finding serenity in the depths of her irises, his shoulders noticeably untensing, leaning further in towards her when he doesn’t mean to. she scoots closer, her hands cold on his, falling deeply into his cerulean gaze. he selfishly pulls her into him, once more, strong arm coming to wrap around her, holding her against him, her arms coming to clutch his shirt. he smells her sweet perfume, deeply inhaling, feeling almost human for a moment. she pulls back just slightly, her cheek brushing against his, coming to rest her forehead against his once more, almost as if it would ease the pain. she shuts her eyes, inching impossibly closer, eager to feel him pressed against her.

“i don’t want you to either,” she whispers, tears burning behind her tightly shut eyes. his hand comes up to the base of her neck, carding his fingers up through her hair, softly grabbing. she sighs against his lips, yearning.

so close.

hearts pounding, skin hot, faces flush.

fuck it.

she leans forward, finally pressing her lips against his— warm, plump, so incredibly soft— the two moaning in tandem at the sensation. it’s almost overwhelming for carmen, his breath hitching at the contact, selfishly letting himself melt into her, the best thing he’s ever had on his lips. he knows this will blur lines between them even more, complicate, hurt, but he didn’t care, their kisses soft and slow, electrifying nerves. he grabs her hair, tighter, pulling her closer to him, gently sliding his tongue along her bottom lip. she accepts it, kissing him deeply, letting out a whimper, grabbing whatever she can of him, desperate to fully feel him against her. her hands fall onto the muscle of his bicep, squeezing, the pressure of his lips hot against hers, marveling at the intensity of the kiss. teeth clash, tongues embrace, pulling, grabbing, each exchanging a small piece of their soul through the heat of their lips. his free hand grabs her waist, slow, hot kisses increasing in ferocity, his mind feeling completely numb to any previous objection. she sucks his lip, lightly, the man groaning deeply, the sensation of her mouth greater than anything he’d ever experienced. he deepens the kiss. her core aches, wanting to hoist herself up, slide in between him and the steering wheel, have him take her right in his car. but she pulled away with a final few kisses, the two breathing heavily, car windows fogging with condensation. he frowns at the loss of contact, opening his eyes, meeting her face, lips swollen, eyes low.

“you’re right,” she admits, quietly. he looks at her in confusion, needing to feel her again. she bites her lip, a few tears growing in her eyes. “we need to stop,” a whisper.

his lungs tighten, pit in his stomach. he shouldn’t have kissed her back, he thinks, head spinning.

she wipes an escaped tear, leaning forward to hug him once more, savoring the feeling of him, safe and solid. he doesn’t know what to say, so he just holds her tightly, for what he knows to be the last time. she sniffles, coming back to kiss his cheek, then pulling away completely, grabbing her bag off the floor of his car.

“thanks for the ride,” she tells him quietly, opening the door, locking eyes with him, the two with a mutual look of pain behind their gaze. he just nods, not trusting his voice. she steps out into the summer night, taking a deep breath, turning back to him.

“goodnight, carm,” shutting the car door and walking to the stairs of her complex. once her back is to him, she lets the salty tears stream down her face, knot in her throat, face hot with embarrassment, heart clenching inexplicably. she knew this would happen, so why did it hurt so bad?

it was never supposed to go this far, but it did.

small fragments of heart scattering behind her like crumbled porcelain, leading back to the idling car where he sat, numb.

fuck, he curses himself as soon as the door shuts. he tries taking deep breaths to calm himself, to no avail, the space of the car now feeling confined as if it were closing in on him.

“fuck!” he yells, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. it was supposed to be the right decision— things were never supposed to go so far. so why did it feel like his heart was shattering beneath the weight of his ribs?

he watches her trudge up the stairs, her shoulders visibly shaking.

—

i really hope you liked it! final part coming soon, and will be a long one! <3

thank you for your continued support on this series!! :)

part 4 - under the moon

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmy berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto imagine #the bear imagine

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williamswifey · 1 year

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hiii i love all of your fics! could i request a bella ramsey x reader where the reader is part of a well known film like stranger things or a marvel movie and everytime bella and them are in an interview they gush about the reader’s character in the other film, which fans notice and think is adorable😭

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 - 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐘

pairing ; bella ramsey x fem!reader

summary ; bella thinks you’re a fantastic actor and rants about it 🤷‍♀️

content warnings ; none, intense fluff

a/n ; sorry for the filler posts lately, i’ve been lacking in the creativity department for actual plots, so plz send in asks to get my creative juices flowing

masterlist

stranger things season four recently came out, and being one of the main characters, you had been extremely busy with interviews and premieres.

it was all so exciting, you loved seeing fans reactions to the show. you loved being tagged in fan edits, and you loved replying to dm’s and tweets.

just when the buzz from the recent dropping of the season began to die down, you and bella had been invited for an interview by vogue, to give a tour of your shared apartment while answering questions.

you had gotten the email from your manager while you had been finishing up a load of laundry, and you we’re static. you and bella’s relationship had gone public about a year ago, even though the two of you had been dating for longer.

there wasn’t much content out from the two of you, aside from social media posts. now that you thought about it, you and bella had never actually been in an official interview together.

sure, the two of you had been interviewed during premieres together, and the paparazzi took photos of you two together all the time—you had never actually sat down with them for an interview.

you excitedly walked downstairs, seeing bella curled up on the couch with a book in their hand. their head peeled upwards when you came into their line of vision, a small smile tugging at their lips.

“hi, darling,” they said in a soft voice, patting the spot next to them.

you grinned and laid besides bella, your head resting on their lap. bella began to play with your hair, successfully beginning to lull you into a gentle sleep.

just before you allowed yourself to slip into unconsciousness, your brain reminded you of why you went to find bella in the first place.

you opened your eyes, and rolled over to face bella. you gently pried the book out of their hands, placing their bookmark you bought for them on the page they left off at.

you yawned before you began to talk, causing bella to chuckle at you, poking your cheek.

“i thought you were a sleepy girl,” they said, tilting their head to the side.

“i am,” you said, rubbing at your eyes, before sitting up straight, “but i had something to ask you first.”

“oh?” bella said, their interest suddenly peaking as they leaned forward slightly.

“nothing bad,” you assured, taking their hand as you fiddled with their rings, “but i got an email from my manager, asking about a vogue interview with us. we’d have to answer a few questions about each other while showing them our apartment. i think it’s an awesome idea, but if you don’t want to it’s totally fine and—”

bella noticed you beginning to ramble as they placed their free hand under your chin, your eyes meeting theirs.

“i’d love to.”

you smiled, and made a mental reminder to email your manager back. in the meantime, you resumed your previous spot on bella’s lap, feeling their gentle hands against your hair as you fell asleep.

***

two weeks and days worth of cleaning later, you and bella were sitting on your couch, waiting for the camera crew and interviewer to arrive to your apartment.

your apartment was in the heart of los angeles, so traffic was always pretty intense, especially in the late afternoon. you were attempting to mentally prepare yourself to answer questions while bella scrolled aimlessly on their phone.

eventually, you grew bored of staring into space and looked over bella’s shoulder to see whatever they were doing on their phone. you giggled when you saw bella staring at a photo of you from your most recent press event.

“…bella my love, what are you doing?”

bella grew startled as their phone nearly flew out of their hands, face pink. however, bella wasn’t embarrassed about the fact they were looking at photos of you—in fact, they were proud.

“just looking at photos of you, reminding myself how lucky i am.” bella replied, and your face now turned the shade of pink bella’s was moments ago.

bella was such a sap sometimes.

“you’re cute, you know that?” you said, pressing a few kisses to bella’s face.

you two began to play fight, and a few seconds later, bella had pinned you to the couch, and was kissing your neck playfully while you giggled.

your fun was cut short by the doorbell. you groaned, sliding out from underneath bella as you made your way to the door, quickly fixing your hair and lipgloss.

the interviewer arrived with a camera crew, and you and bella began the tour.

***

after a brief tour of your apartment, the camera crew and interviewer got settled on your couch as they began to prepare you both for the interview.

they promised nothing too invasive or intense—but you weren’t worried. your manager promised your assistant had reviewed and approved every question on the list.

bella seemed to be a bit more jittery, and the obnoxious interviewer clearly took advantage of that—as they decided they’d ask bella a few questions first.

“so, bella,” the interviewer began, turning her attention towards bella, “have you gotten the chance to see stranger things season four yet?”

bella shifted in their seat. you honestly had no idea if they watched it or not, and their reply was a complete surprise.

“i have!” bella replied enthusiastically, beginning to fiddle with their rings the way they did when excited, “y/n was absolutely fabulous, as always. and her character? my god. i’ve never rooted for a protagonist more. y/n’s acting is incredible. sometimes i’d be watching the show in our bedroom while y/n was in the living room reading…and i’d just be like—holy fuck. i live with this person.”

bella’s response to you and your character had you blushing manically. your cheeks were bright pink as you fought back a smile, intertwining your hand with bella’s.

their eyes met yours.

“do you really mean that, bels?” you asked softly, heart fluttering as bella nodded.

“more than anything. but i have to admit, your character is way cooler than you,” bella joked, ruining the moment as you gently shoved their shoulder and playfully stuck their tongue out at them.

bella giggled, the both of you completely forgetting that the interviewer was still there, and the camera was still recording.

the two of you were quick to pull it together again, professional as can be.

“but, yeah,” bella said after a moment, “i saw stranger things and it’s probably my favorite tv show at the moment—but i might also be biased.”

this made a chuckle slip past your lips.

you rested your head on bella’s shoulder as the interviewer glanced at the pair of you.

“now y/n,” the interviewer began, “now i guess it’s your turn. i assume you’ve seen the last of us, so what did you think of it?”

your grinned was so large you felt your cheeks widen. as you opened your mouth to speak, you knew your words would rival bella’s previous in an instant.

#bella ramsey #bella ramsey blurb #bella ramsey drabble #bella ramsey fic #bella ramsey imagine #bella ramsey x fem!reader #bella ramsey x reader #bella ramsey x y/n #bella ramsey fluff #bella ramsey x you #bella ramsey imagines #bella ramsey fanfic #ellie williams x reader

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meatyarms · 9 months

Note

Imagine, if you will, wifey comes home late one night after a clearly long and stressful day. After she's eaten, you offer to go straight to bed with her. After all, she's clearly "too tired for anything else wink wink," and she just looks at you like this

Sleep will have to wait

Ah, I love your prompt-like asks that come in with suggestive pictures of bubu Sevy(I perceive them as prompts because I cannot keep my exploding ideas in for the life of me). Sorry if this is all over the place I'm just tackling writing again after a while.

ּ You'd never see it coming too! But on a somber note, after work for wify Sevika must be a mental mess. Given the treacherous nature of the job grounds, her endurance is often tossed in deep water, together with time. One coming home way after dark only promised another, then dinner’s overdue, routines, catch-ups. Between not wanting to come off ornery, and upholding the border keeping life in and out of the house apart, when the want to storm at the walls with her fists looms closer to enact each one of those nights. Sevika goes dead static, and all for you she..

She tries. Perhaps too hard. Puts on her best act...laying it on a bit thick.

Lands at your doorstep like a mourning dove perching in its roost, carried home by the wind. Consciously prudent, she disrobes from her cloak, loosens her shoelaces for just enough relief to make it to the table. What would come out of her this evening was far too unnatural to miss. A poise, too mighty; footsteps, featherly; and typical nocturnal table talk, outweighed by silence.

Sevika is tired. But holds out an easy front, lest her person sees through.

Signs of life ebbed off her face since you parted from the warm welcome, as did yours when subtle wrist joints cracking wavered your ears and concern snowballed the tip of your tongue.

Only you silently fall in with the mood. The last thing she wants is a wind of worry flickering your innate verve that never goes out, or to be broached on the day's burdens.

Then all’s in blue undertones as you bid your turning-in regime. Hushed hours pass dimming any hope of today, brightening that of tomorrow’s.

Until...........

Sevika's scoff tickles your spirit, stopping you in your tracks and jerking your face back halfway through the bedroom door. Something blended with the dinner or laced in the cups may explain the mystery behind her sudden show of elatedness, but not the mocking smug over the hair clip you only just hooked to the back of your head.

“....oh….”

Telling eyes suggest a different proposition from any plans to retire for the night, and the familiar beginning of an impending disaster waves in..

ּ *riffling through the nearest book I found and stopping at a random page* according to the gospel: Sevika absolutely uses sex as stress relief(you agree-you know you do).

ּ Instead of entertaining the thought of putting someone’s head on a spear as a hard day’s resolve, why not feed her soaring sex drive? Demands the same backbreaking, challenges her controlling emotions till they strip off, that way waking up with a fresh head and no regrets of rash bloodshed is guaranteed.

ּ Note that Sevika wouldn't think to pass on the weight of her day to you—albeit in sexual bliss—if you didn't make those faces. You put no effort into hiding anything(anymore), the back clasping with the legs you do in great relish which Sev denies it ever being why her cheeks turn rosy.

ּ You'd melt into the sheets under her, and Sevika sighs in solace at that.

ּ She'll recount the day's 'fuckery’, just as you hoped, but don’t be alarmed when the brain buzz resonates for a day or three more.

ּ Your pussy will be hurting as much as her head and bones were ⌣〃ᶸ〃⌣—was my original answer to you for this hehehehehehe.

#❥ thehollowartist #ask #arcane sevika #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika fanfic #sevika imagine #sevika smut #sevika x reader #sevika x you #meatywrites

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reimenaashelyee · 6 months

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I think I've never detailed your website until now, it is incredibly organized! As an artist who knows only the basics of programming and creating webpages, but is very interested in having one, may I ask, what site hosting do you use? or which one do you recommend? i don't really know anything about that. I would love to see the resurgence of the personal website/ blog.

Thank you!! My website and the infrastructure I've built surrounding it is my pride and joy! More and more lately I've come to appreciate the security it's given during these trying internet times.

I use Wordpress and a drag-and-drop builder called Live Composer (I wouldn't recommend it over its competitor, only because Live Composer has very bad documentation). My hosting is SiteGround. All those tools are stuff I adopted 10 years ago, since I started The World in Deeper Inspection. This way of using Wordpress - being accessible but labyrinthe and too-much - suits me, probably because my personality is like this too.

But a lot of people want something simpler. I'd recommend pursuing resources from MelonLand, The Cheapskate's Guide and Sadgrl to get started. They are more for static site generation, of the neocities type. And in their simplicity, they offer you more control compared to my set-up. They are also part of a movement called the Indie Web or Retro Web, which I consider myself a part of mentally and spiritually, if not fully. These are folks who are bringing back blogs, webrings, web surfing, and all the ways that made the internet fun and fresh back then.

If my website seems super organised, it's less about the tools used and more due to the thinking I have developed for it - coming up with an approach of how I want to be presented online, imagining my ideal site experience and implementing it, as well as solving the problem of having both a Professional Site + a Casual Personal Online Home under the same URL. Here's a blog post I made recently about A Personal Website VS A Portfolio, and an older post, Site Revamp + Artist Sites Should Be More Fun Maybe?, that describes my website/internet philosophies. From those two, the main point to take away is that establishing the landing page as a signpost that allows the visitor to choose their destination solved basically my problem of profesional/personal separation.

TLDR I have a lot of thoughts about making artist websites and returning to the independent web!! This has been a 3 years journey for me!!!

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olivv33z · 3 months

Text

ೃ⁀➷ WATCHED.

Pairing: Eyeless Jack x Fem! Reader

Content/Warning: Stalker!Jack, Brief Mention of Torture, Brief Suggestive Content (no smut), Character Death

Note: I had this somewhere in my docs and I need something to post now. Art found on Instagram, could also be found on Tumblr by @angrytyrantgentlemen (PART 2)

check my pinned post for request page

A hand fell through her hair, caressing it gently like it would shatter in seconds. He couldn’t help but catch a whiff of her hair. The same shampoo she always used filled his strong senses. The scent was engraved in his head due to how often he has been in her room. It was a euphoric scent.

He couldn’t help but continue to glide his claws through her hair, he made a mental note of how soft it was.

How long has he been there? Watching, touching her? He couldn’t remember when he entered her house, or how he ended up next to her. He couldn��t care. He was enchanted by the beauty that lay peacefully. She was so vulnerable to him. Something stirred up in him, a primal instinct?

Air-popped from your arms when you propped up from your bed— another exhausting night. Sleep is relaxing for everyone— everyone but you. The feeling of being watched was always there. You weren’t sure if you were afraid of someone or if it was all the movies you’d been watching.

You yawned, mentally preparing yourself for the day ahead of you. You stumbled out of bed and began the long day ahead of you.

You picked up the toothbrush to brush your teeth until you heard your phone ring from your room. The phone rang until you picked it up. “Hello?” You murmured, noticing it was your boyfriend’s mother calling you. A frantic cry was heard on the other side, “Is Griffin with you?” She was breathing heavily. You raised an eyebrow at no one, “No? I thought he was visiting you.” You carefully formed your words.

She cried at your words, “It’s true then!” What’s true?

You repeated your mental question out loud, “What’s true? What happened?” The sound of panic is heard in your voice. You paced around your room in anticipation— it was starting to eat you alive. She was known to be a calm and collected woman, so why was she freaking out? She choked back a sob before she said anything. Anyone can tell that she was slowly breaking down inside. “Griff-Griffin! He’s been murdered!” She cried.

It took ten seconds for her words to sink in. The toothbrush that you held in your hand fell with a small thud against the carpeted floor. Your mind is blanked out, staring at the wall in front of you. Nothing could be heard, the sound of static filled your head.

“You’re lying. I just saw him yesterday!” You were quick to deny her. Instead of sadness clouding your judgment, it was anger and rage.

You hung up before she could answer back. Your phone could be found on the other side of the room where you threw it. All of your memories of Griffin played through your head— the bad, good, the funny, and the sad memories that you both made are down the drain.

Your phone buzzed. The screen lit up. Your eyes darted up to the screen— it took all your strength to move your body. Unlocking your phone, an unknown number texted you.

Seems like poor Griffin is gone...

Your eyebrows furrowed in disgust. The number gave a mocking text.

That’s not funny.

The text finally made your brain understand the situation. All of your emotions came down at once. Tears drop from your eyes, and your face feels hot. Your knees buckled— dropping down to kneel on the bedroom floor. You sobbed into your hands, this feeling of sadness felt surreal. How were you going to get through this? Your tears dropped onto your phone making it light up. From your cloudy vision, you can see that the unknown number replied to you.

With a trembling hand, you gripped your phone tightly. You swiped into your phone and looked at the text. Due to your blurry vision, you couldn’t make out the words until you wiped your tears against your sleeve.

But it’s so funny.. It was funny hearing him beg and plea for forgiveness and mercy. It was funny when I took his senses away, one by one. Watching him slowly die was funny.

The look on your face was clear. Fear. Another series text came through making the fear inside you rise.

Don’t be scared. I did it for you. Griffin didn’t deserve you. He treated you terribly.

You scoffed at the message. They didn’t know anything about Griffin. He was, honestly, the kindest and most honest man you had ever known. Keyword: known. Now he was gone. Knowing that is a fact makes your stomach churn.

You didn’t know him.

You defended Griffin’s name, but it didn’t matter.

Don’t make me laugh. I watched you both for months. Haven’t you suspected anything when he was gone?

You gulped down your nerves, they seemed to reach a curious section in your mind.

What do you mean? Watching us for months? What is wrong with you?!

You typed furiously, this sick game they're playing is driving you insane. You weren’t sure what caused you to continue playing this taunting game— nor were you sure if they were telling the truth but what’s the harm of asking?

So many things are wrong with me. You wouldn’t want to know. I’m your friend, don’t paint me as your enemy. I saved you from heartbreak, it would’ve been worse if you found out.

You stared confusedly at the texts. Heartbreak? If you found out? How confusing.

I’m calling the cops on you. This isn’t a funny joke. You're sick.

You waited for a reply but there was nothing for a couple of minutes. Groaning in the process, you started to press in the number for the cops. As you dialed the final number the phone ping rang through the quiet room. They messaged you again— gulping down your nerves you opened it. There was a video attached to the text.

You seem to enjoy my company since you waited five minutes… Attachment: 1

You paused to look at the video. The play button was just a couple of centimeters from your fingertip. Their text coursed an emotion through you. Waited? How did they know? Your head whipped towards your windows. Between the two windows was the gray sky. It wasn’t dark out but it wasn’t bright out. Nothing seemed to be out there however that didn’t seem to stop you from moving. You slowly picked yourself up to move yourself inside your bathroom. Your trembling legs couldn’t carry you very far. You closed the bathroom door quietly and secured it.

Your back against the wall— sliding down it. Focusing back on the phone, the video stared back at you. “Fuck it,” You whispered— clicking the video. You made sure to turn your sound up a tiny bit to make sure you heard everything. The sound of the video filled up the void of silence in the bathroom.

The video screen was pitch black but there were moans and groans sounds following after a few seconds of silence, and then Griffin’s voice came on. “Fuck! You make me feel so good.” More sounds came along. A woman’s voice followed, “Why are you even with Y/N if I make you feel good?” Her voice was small and fragile.

Not daring to finish the video, it was paused. The video was over twenty seconds long and you couldn’t bear the fact that it only took seven seconds of the video to make you want to throw up. He’s been cheating on you. How long? You typed out a response.

Who are you…, how do you have this video?

Even if you didn’t see anyone in the video you know what Griffin's voice sounds like and that was him. No doubt. The only question that lingered in your head was who was the lady? Too many unanswered questions.

Well you know I was around the neighborhood and stumbled across him and a lady who wasn’t you…. And you know…. Who I am? I believe we all are trying to find ourselves, don’t you think?

Just tell me. Please.

You typed out. It was foolish to think that you would get the name or anything of the person who murdered your ex-boyfriend but—

An envelope slipped through the crack of the door. You froze in place. A creak was heard on the other side of the door— walking away from you. Not daring to move a muscle until you were sure that you were safe. You subtly dropped your phone next to you and got onto your hands and knees to crawl toward the paper.

Once you get near the paper, you snatch it. Quickly getting back into your original place in the bathroom you clutched the envelope in fear. Your breath hitched when you opened it. They were photos of you with captions on each photo. Even some unflattering photos of you but it seemed like he found you beautiful since each caption would have a compliment about you and the date following it.

Your phone buzzed and lit up— it was from him.

See you soon, sweetheart. - Jack

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#Olivv33z #creepypasta x reader #crp #eyelessjack #eyeless jack x reader #eyeless jack #xreader #x reader #crpxreader

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ofmymuses · 2 months

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i don't really know how to start this; i'm at a loss for words to describe how disappointed and upset i am right now. i don't want to go into too much detail about what's going on or add any pictures to this post for the public to see (but please dm me if you want proof or more detail, etc).

i made a post a few days ago but if you didn't see it, i'll explain super briefly — my boyfriend recently lost his job and i haven't been working due to my mental health along with a few other series of unfortunate events that have happened since. we aren't able to pay our $800 rent this month or pay for much of anything right now. i'm trying really hard to get a job (and have made it a goal to find one by the end of march break - on the 15th) but not getting calls back. my boyfriend has a job lined up with his brother but we're waiting for a call from them and who knows how long that could take.

i'm not going to lie, i can't offer much. right now, the best i can do is indie / rpg makeovers (or making them over from scratch for you, so you don't have to worry about doing anything) and anything on my what i do page. i could also potentially make static icons but i don't have access to photoshop at the moment so i can't get much more adventurous than that.

here's a direct link if you're able to help (though reblogs help just as much too); if you would like something in return, please include the tumblr/discord username i can reach you at and what you would like in the "what's this for?" section. i'm a bit cramped with stuff to do today but i'll reach out to you asap. you have my absolute deepest and sincerest gratitude and thanks for taking the time to read through this and for your consideration ♡♡

#literally want the ground to swallow me whole #noninspo #idk what to even tag this as #donations

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lemon-natalia · 24 days

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Harrow the Ninth Reaction - Chapter 2

‘i’m not a monster’ the fact that you’re saying that makes me think its not true buddy

the Emperor makes static sounds so he doesn’t have to speak to his Lyctor?? this guy is hilarious, glad someone’s providing the Gideon-style humour again

i spent half of this chapter being very confused as to whether ‘the Body’ was quite literally referring to Harrow herself, like she was that detached from herself? but now i’m pretty certain it is the Locked Tomb body

if he needed Lyctors so badly, i feel like there were more efficient ways of getting them than giving everyone an extended vacation in an abandoned building and just hoping they figured it out, dude

ohh i didn’t think that he was quite literally going to repopulate the Ninth with lab-grown people but okay

not the empty coffins for half of the Houses 😢 and a rose for Cytherea…

hmm the black cornea in the Emperor’s eyes reminds me of how Colum’s eyes became totally black in his last fight

good thing necromancy is second nature to Harrow, i wouldn’t be able to have this convo while this mentally out of it

if i’m understanding this correctly, the Resurrection Beasts are the revenants of dying planets?? thats a sick concept. also nine revenant beasts = nine planets?

and yeah, his offer to let Harrow go home really was false - she can’t no matter what with these things chasing her

uh ok we’re talking about Ortus now again i guess. dude is getting more page time now than when he was alive

#the locked tomb #the locked tomb liveblog #tlt #harrow the ninth #lemon natalia reads the locked tomb

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entomolog-t · 2 months

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GtWAC Day 14 : Date Night

A promise of something spicey to come~

A little (not canon but absolutely could be) short of June and Aedes as a late Valentine's day prompt (Also combined with the G/t Valentine's prompt list prompt Card). For context this would take place not too long after Chapter 10 in Bite Me.

- - - -

Part 2: Comings Soon

Word count: 608

CW: Suggestive

Consciousness drowsily scratched at Aedes senses, rousing him, rather unfairly, from the far too luxurious comforts of the pillow he lay splayed out upon. Even with his eyes closed, the warm glow of the sunset still managed to shine through, pulling him, albeit unwillingly, from his sleep.

Movements slow and lazy, Aedes stretches himself out, a yawn escaping him as the remaining daylight slowly bleeds away. A shiver passes through him- the room both oddly silent and oddly cold. Aedes frowns. He’d expected June to be home by now. She’d mentioned something about a human holiday, though he’d never paid much attention to what humans thought to celebrate. Despite that, he’d managed to pick up a few details in passing over the years, and one thing was abundantly clear…

This was a lovers holiday.

Aedes swallows. His throat suddenly much too dry.

Lovers…

Staring up at the ceiling, his mind feels paradoxically both full and blank- his thoughts like static, busy yet incoherent.

Lovers… the word seemed to echo in his mind, Is that what we are?

They were certainly something… Though what exactly was a question that Aedes had been avoiding for… well, reasons.

He sighs, a cool breeze from the open window sending a chill through him, and he mentally scolds June for leaving it open once again- The irony not lost on him that it was precisely this habit that led to their… something.

Though it’s what the breeze brings with it that truly chills him.

Aedes freezes- body rigid as his heart seems to stop dead mid beat.

Something sweet danced on the breeze, rich and creamy and all too familiar.

Immediately Aedes swivels around, unnerved he hadn’t noticed her upon waking up. Though, it wasn’t June that caught his gaze, in fact, she wasn’t there at all. Instead, his eyes fell on a foreign object carefully placed on the windowsill.

Oh-

A card.

Scrawled out in an intricate deep red cursive was nothing but his name- his name, and a bow tied delicately along the width of the cream coloured paper.

Aedes stood, eyeing the card. Despite any pretext the holiday may suggest, he couldn’t shake the almost ominous feeling as he climbed up towards the window sill. As he drew nearer, the feeling only seemed to increase, his thoughts groggily trying to piece together what exactly was so unnerving. Only after reaching the card did he realize its source- his heart seeming to almost shudder in his chest.

The paper, the bow… it all smelled of her.

June’s perfume lingered in the air around the card- and greedily, Aedes breathed it in, not unaware of the heat that rushed to his face.

Curiosity rampant in his mind, Aedes opens the card.

The sight made his breath catch in his throat.

The card was simple. Just one sentence, if one could even call it that. And yet, the contents stirred something within him. Aedes found himself frozen, staring blankly at the page, fumbling with his thoughts as the dizzying scent of her that clung to the paper toyed with his emotions. But while the smell of tonka and cream that hung in the air was enticing, it was what quite literally clung to the paper that caused heat to pool somewhere other than his face. That- and those two simple words.

An imprint of boozy red lips stood out on the cream coloured paper of the card, interrupted by the ribbon laced around the card precisely between the lips, their color far too familiar to be merely coincidental, a promise of satiety- both carnivorous and carnal.

His knees felt weak.

8:00pm, Blindfolded.

#This two make me want to howl #I was STRUGGLING with how to use the prompt card and JUNE CAME IN CLUTCH #Girl same #g/t #giant/tiny #g/t community #g/t prompts #g/t fluff #g/t writing #GtWAC #G/t Valentine's #Bite Me #JuneOC #AedesOC #cw suggestive #Entowrites

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bitciziad · 9 months

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got cockblocked by art block i fear

anyway pathetic loser doodles + other drawings under the cut while i work through it and back with yet more music stuck in my head like a broken record;

bitciziad rambling nonsense btw bc i like talking to u maybe probably : binge’s radio station moment of last week was pretty ricky lyrics 24/7 (i dont know why bc i haven’t even listened to them in y e a r s it hit me out of the blue i was over here thinking “yessirrr”, “hotter than a bisquick biscuit out the oven”, “i’m rolling down 95”, “dudes on my chevy, girls in my chevy” etc. for forever with other stupid shit y’all know how your brain gets when you have relentless music stuck in your head)

this week is smashing pumpkins (and sublime like always) so the drawing below is bc of that cuz i reference a song or something every single time somehow with no relevance even in an entirely unrelated post/comment and i forget we aren’t mentally connected and you might not know what i’m thinking/referencing no matter how obscure it is (yet.. we aren’t on the same wavelength YET… just u wait tho) BUT it’s temporary give me like a week or two and i won’t have radio static on repeat i will be a functioning member of society but unfortunately for those of y’all that read my post all the way through u weren’t spared my nonsense whatsoever have a complimentary water or redbull or something from me to u

OKAY BUT DOL i’m going to forget this as soon as i post but how neat would a drawing of some of the DoL characters be of like smashing pumpkin faces (not the band i mean like actual pumpkins but yes 100% inspired by once again music i was thinking of/listening to i promise it’s relevant to the rambling this time. idk i haven’t even touched the game in a month i’m just drawing some characters and thinking of building another world unrelated to my other ocs)

ima just use kylar as an example cuz he is the only one i can draw rn but like one of those graphic in-your-face style dynamic poses (ex: falling into the canvas) that kinda takes up the whole canvas but it’s a splattered pumpkin face with a grunge(? not really the word i’m tryna say but yeah) vibe and add some word or something in those big bold letters across the page, like the word “disarm” idk (i’m using bits and pieces of this blog as an excuse to ramble atp)

+ one more sketch featuring other unrelated things but there is one kylar at least im just feelin’ lazy with it LMAOOO

idk what’s up with my timeline thing i don’t see like 80% of my mutuals’/people i follow posts but i will fix it (insert saluting emoji cuz i can’t find it rn)

#degrees of lewdity #degrees of lewdity kylar #kylar the loner #dol fanart #binge!myart #bitwip

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jifanjiang0710 · 1 year

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Yandere Scaramouche x reader Written by: Leo Warning: 3.2 Archon quest spoilers, stockholm syndrome

“I’m going to become a god.”

You look up from your light novel, one that Scaramouche has so generously provided for you. “What?”

“Tsk,” his eyebrows furrow, as if offended by your ignorance, but he lacks his usual bite. “Such insolence. Were you any other mortal-”

“You would kill me? That implies that I’m special, right?” You reply with a cheeriness unbefitting of the situation, fully aware of the Harbinger’s growing ire. “You must love me so. I’m so lucky that I caught the attention of such a merciful individual. I will kowtow and shout praises by your feet.” You feel a mild prickling of static and the hair behind your neck stands.

“Know your place, brat. You are as worthless as the sand beneath my feet. You are lucky, for those who do not have anything, have nothing to lose. When I am divine, I should label you a heretic and feed you to the serpents.”

Sighing, you turn your attention back to nothing in particular. “You shouldn’t say such hurtful things. Not everyone is without a heart like you.”

You flip a page. This conversation proves far more engaging than the novel in hand, and the theatrics of nonchalance are a front to continue conversing with your husband in this manner. It’s not as if there are many opportunities to get under his skin. Of course, rebellion comes at a price. Fortunately, there is a valuable skill one tends to pick up over time in his presence, to know when to draw the line.

Now is not one of those times.

Electricity crackles and you swear you hear thunder outside, attuned to his moods. It is as if the world bends to his whims. Not possible, right? Perhaps backtracking is the wiser option, forgo the satisfaction of petty disobedience today.

“I jest. I know that I am the sole individual which your lonely soul longs for.”

The skies clear. Almost.

“If you weren’t, you would not be sitting here as my wife today, rather rotting away, long forgotten, along with every other mortal who dares cross me.”

A moment of weakness allows a light chuckle to escape your mouth.

None of you say a word. But you know he wants to. He refuses to succumb.

…

“What’re you laughing at?” His tone suggests that you tread very, very carefully in what you decide to say next.

Ah, forget always taking the safe route. It’s the stuff of cowards.

“Well, not every mortal…”

Outside, a deafening rumble shakes the very foundations of the ground.

“Not once have you managed to one-up the Traveler, have you?”

“YOU INGRATE-!”

---

“Scaramouche.”

“…” He says nothing, but the clenching of his fists is enough.

“Scaaaaraaaamouuucheee?”

“What.”

“We made progress! You didn’t tell me to piss off! Warming up to me?”

“Tsk…”

This is a chore you wish need not be completed. After succeeding in angering the little puppet beyond words (and earning yourself a hefty punishment as a result), you have set yourself the task of soothing him from this never-ending temper tantrum, if not for his then for your sake. “Are you still angry?”

Scaramouche turns to you for the first time today. “What,” voice dripping with venom, “do you think?”

“I think we can move on from this unfortunate incident!” You smile, too wide to be true, and open your arms. “I’ll give you a hug.” This is killing you inside. Archons have mercy.

At his refusal to comply, you bite the bullet and hold him from behind. For his stone-cold artificial heart, he is deceptively warm. He recoils almost immediately.

“How dare you!”

Your smile drops a fraction. “I was merely offering you some semblance of comfort.”

Scaramouche has no words, for once.

“…don’t lie to me. You plan my death several times a month.”

He seems to love his made-up accusations and falsehoods. You are still smiling, a sight which infuriates him. You know something he doesn’t. Do you expect him to continue entertaining all those foolish mental games you play? Do you think he will so easily quail to desires of the flesh. He is a god! He is above all of those wretched mortals and archons, above all weaknesses-!

“I never said you could let go.”

As you wrap your arms around him, offering a breathy laugh like a songbird’s melody. He decides not to ask, this time.

---

He stands proud. He is invincible. His name shan’t be tarnished nor sullied. He is feared and respected in volumes, while the commonfolk cower at the mention of his name. He is Scaramouche, 6th of the Fatui Harbingers. He is a future god, worshipped, and loved.

“So why…?”

The Electro Archon’s gnosis lies forgotten on the ground. A scene of carnage as far as the eyes can see. Bodies are everywhere, evidence of his uncontrollable rage, and unending sorrow. Everything going up in flames and lives razed to the ground, leaving behind a barren, deathly piece of land, so reminiscent of that day, 500 years ago.

Blood, on the corpses, staining the sky and ground and everything in between, smeared on his face, dripping from his palms. Not enough, it was never enough, so many years and…

“Scara?”

He whips around, eyes crazed and bloodshot, instincts flared for another round of bloodshed. The fire dies down when he recognises the figure before him. He should relish this. Scaramouche revels in reminding you of your hopeless situation and takes pleasure from the fear in your eyes, but you are not afraid.

Scaramouche does not know what to do, mind too preoccupied with the wreckage before him. He cannot fathom anything else. How could they? How dare they? Did they not care? How could she? Who was she to do that, as if he were some toy to dispose of if she were dissatisfied? Was he not enough? Was he lower, inferior? How dare you? How could you? Who are you to do this? Howdareyouhowdareyouhowdareyou-

He feels a tug at his hand. You hold tight, and with a nod of reassurance, you lead him away.

You dare not let go.

---

Please. Don’t.

Like a puppet cut from his strings, the mechanism collapses, and so does he.

It’s over. The Gnosis is gone, what for does he need to fight?

“KUNIKUZUSHI!”

The call of his name is chilling, like a needle straight through his heart. Perhaps for the first time since becoming a Harbinger, Kunikuzushi is frightened. He knows that voice all too well. He wishes he did not have to hear it now, of all places. You remind him of everything he stands to lose.

He can hear you shout obscenities at the Traveler, as the final harness on his back prepares to snap. You scream and demand, nearly begging for them to leave him alone.

Do not lower yourself to them in such a way. You are far worthier.

The endless assault finally comes to a halt. His body feels like stone and iron, he cannot move his legs, and the ground gives way.

You are free, aren’t you? You’ve always wanted escape from me. Now you can live out your life as you want to…while I am left to rot.

The wind whistles past his ears. His last thought is selfish, but Kunikuzushi is long past the point of caring.

Don’t forget me. Never stop loving me.

#yandere scaramouche #yandere genshin impact #yandere x reader #leos works #yandere genshin #i dont like scaramouche #but that cutscene broke my heart

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fastlikealambo · 9 months

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C+|| Professor!Eddie Munson x Black!Fem Reader

Summary: After receiving a less than stellar grade on assignment, you receive a request to attend Professor Munson’s office hours. Stuck in a cozy office with your extremely hot professor, your anxiety takes hold and office hours take an unexpected turn.

Triggers: Panic attacks, Mental Health

Minors, please dni.

Let’s chat during my office hours this week!

You thought about throwing that little post-it stuck to your failure of an essay on the romantic poets right into the garbage and pretending you never got it. Class was hard enough, the material was engaging, you were learning so much yet at the same time, you weren’t paying any fucking attention at all.

Those salt and pepper curls, the way he chewed on his glasses, that weird little dance he did when someone made an interesting point or gave a correct answer.

That smile....

No, absolutely not.

You had a master’s degree.

You had a perfect GPA.

You qualified to be a Rhodes Scholar.

In kindergarten, your teacher said you were a pleasure to have in class.

You were pristine.

And now you were pristinely sweating in front of your professor’s office, desperately trying to ignore that prickling feeling in the back of your neck. You knocked firmly yet politely, about a few seconds from turning and running away when music from the other side of the door turned off and it was now or never.

The door swung open and there he was, tweed blazer gone, crisp white shirt a little more open than usual, sleeve rolled up to the elbow displaying tattoos you didn’t expect a professor of poetry to have.

“Come in, I’m so glad you had time to come today!” He said brightly, pushing his tortoiseshell glasses to the top of his head, flattening himself against the door so you could pass.

A faint whiff of cigarettes and some sort of earthy cologne had you melt but you straightened up immediately, pulling out your paper and notebook. He takes the chair opposite you, legs crossed, reaching for his own notes.

“So, how do you feel about this paper? Let’s start there.” He said brightly.

The prickling on the back of your neck starts to become a buzzing and it feels like your whole head is vibrating but you ignore it.

“I felt pretty solid about it.I gave thoroughly checked research, provided more than necessary sources to support every claim about Keats’ work I presented, there were no grammar errors, and I ran it through six different plagiarism checkers. The word length is exactly as you required so I’m not sure I understand what I did wrong.” You said, honestly.

He gently took the paper from your hands to inspect his own writing, your hands starting to shake as he went through each red marked page.

What else could those fingers do, you wondered.

“Your research was impeccable, your grammar and analysis were great, and there are exactly 5,000 words. However, as this was an opinion and analysis assignment, your opinion on the poem itself seems to be missing. You did an amazing analysis but that was only half the assignment and that’s why you received a low grade.”

“I don’t understand.” You said quietly, your hands started to shake and your chest felt really tight all of the sudden. His voice faded into static in your ears and you were really struggling to stay focused.

“I want to know how Keats' work made you feel as well as how the work has been regarded over time. You’re a person, not a research archive. Do you understand what I’m saying?” He asked, leaning in to meet your gaze.

“I read the instructions fifteen times, I analyzed the poem, I gave opinions, strong opinions.” You choked out.

“Other people’s opinions, dead old guy opinions, I wanted yours.” He said, leaning back in his chair.

Failure.

All that work, all that money, two degrees down and you were still just a failure.

“I did a full assignment, I didn’t do half the assignment, I would never do half the work required.” You muttered, trying to take a breath that wasn’t coming.

Eddie leaned forward, confused, studying your face before his own face softened with concern as he said your name, once, then again with no response from you.

“Can you hear me, sweetheart? Are you alright?”

You couldn’t breathe.

Okay, five things you could see.

Dirty carpet, empty coffee cup, worn books, your professor’s big brown eyes, oh fuck this was happening in front of an audience.

Another failure.

“Look at me, you’re okay, everything is okay. Fuck the paper, I’ll give you an A if you just take a breath, please breathe!” Professor Munson said, somehow looking worse than you felt.

You tried to take a big breath but nothing but a rasping noise came out and the office was starting to get very blurry very quickly. Eddie crouched down in front of you, hesitant.

“Can I touch you, is that okay?” He asked, voice soft and quiet as to not to scare you even more than you already were.

Please do.

How the fuck were you anxious and horny? One of those should cancel the other out.

You managed to nod and Eddie covered your hands with his own, squeezing gently.

“ You’re okay, nothing in this room or in your head can hurt you, I’m right here. Breathe with me, okay? A nice deep breath, we’ve got all the time in the world.” He said slowly, taking a big breath and you mimicked him,allowing yourself to inhale deeply.

“Good job, sweetheart. Let’s try again, shall we?” He asked, thumb rubbing against your knuckles as you breathe together an additional time. It takes a few minutes before your breathing goes back to normal but he doesn’t let you go.

“There she is, welcome back, sweet girl.” He said with a soft smile, his hand reaching up to stroke your cheek and you put your hand over his time, closing your eyes. You both relaxed into each other’s embrace in the quiet of his office, breathing and being as one.

“I should let you go now.” He said, leaning back first with an awkward cough, looking anywhere but your face, running a hand through his hair.

“But-” You started.

Eddie looked back at you, eyes dark.

“But what?”

You brought your face close to his, not breaking eye contact.

“But what if I don’t want you to?”

Hope you liked this!

#eddie munson x reader #older!eddie munson #eddie munson x black!reader #older!eddie

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