#thank you for inspiring me to post my writing Electric | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reiderwriter · 9 months

Text

Everyone Looks Better in a Sundress

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (GN + AFAB)

Summary: The AC at the BAU decides to take a holiday during a summer heatwave, and when you decide the FBI’s dress code is merely a suggestion, you unwittingly catch Spencer’s eye.

Genre: smut (18+, minors DNI)

Warnings: Dom!Spencer, sub!reader, semi-public sex, fingering, car sex, degradation, name-calling, edging, praise-kink, dumbification, basically Spencer is a tease and the reader really gets off on using his official title.

Word Count: 3.8k

Authors Note: Hello! This is my first posted fic, so any feedback is welcome and absolutely appreciated (I tried to keep it GN!AFAB but if you notice any gendered pronouns pls lmk immediately!) I finally decided to start writing again after a few years, so I might be a bit rusty but I recently started rewatching Criminal Minds and I am so in love with Spencer! This little fic was inspired by @imagining-in-the-margins CM Summer Sunshine Fic Challenge, so big thank you to them for the inspiration! This could also develop into a multi part fic in the future, so if that’s something you’d be interested in, please let me know in the tags and comments! XOXO K

Part two!

After three years in the BAU, you should know that summers in Quantico, Virginia are nothing to play about. Sure, it could be cloudy sometimes, and summer rain did allow for some relief, but with a heatwave on the way and a week of office work ahead of you, it seemed every member of your team was excited for the office AC.

That was, of course, until the maintenance department sent out an office-wide email telling you it was “undergoing work” for the foreseeable future.

You received the email during your commute, and immediately turned around to change. There was no way you were surviving in your slacks and long-sleeve shirt, and, truth be told, you knew that your bosses wouldn’t mind if you were a little more relaxed in your workplace attire if you weren’t going to be spending time in the field.

It took all of thirty seconds to shoot a message to Garcia, telling her that you’d be a few minutes late for your daily carpool, letting her know the situation so she didn’t hack into your car GPS (which she still claims she absolutely did not do the last time you accidentally slept in, but would in an emergency just to know you were safe).

She quickly sent you a reply: “put on that floral number we picked up last week! Between you and Morgan, I'm hoping my eyes will be feasting today 😉.”

You let out a little chuckle as you read the message, and quickly complied. A sundress didn’t sound too bad right now at all.

The dress in question was perhaps pushing it slightly for office work. It was short, and you knew immediately when putting it on that you would spend the day pulling it down to a more appropriate length. But the shade of blue fit your skintone perfectly, and the floaty material was exactly what you needed to beat the heat.

Grabbing your keys again before you could second guess yourself, you didn’t let your mind linger quickly on the thought that perhaps the dress was a little attention grabbing. And perhaps there was someone in the office whose attention you wanted to grab.

-X-

The commute into the office wasn’t bad, but stepping out of your nicely temperature regulated car into a wall of heat made you thank yourself for your foresight. And it seemed that the rest of your team was dealing similarly. Walking into the office, you noticed that Prentiss had divested herself of her shirt, sitting comfortably with an iced coffee and red tank top, an electric fan inches from her face. Morgan was similarly outfitted in lighter clothes than usual, and you could audibly hear Penelope’s brain working to come up with the best heat related compliment for her work husband. You couldn’t see Hotch or Rossi, but you knew they kept their own back-up units in their offices, so they wouldn’t be struggling at all today. You assumed JJ, too, was in her office.

“Well, look at you Cutie. You’re gonna break some hearts today, I know.” You roll your eyes as you throw your bag down. You were used to Morgan’s playful teasing by now, but compliments and affirmations were always welcome. You grimaced looking down at your desk chair and realised you had another problem. Your very recent purchase of a black leather office chair was going to absolutely make your day a living hell. Before you resigned yourself to a day of sitting in the orthopedic seventh layer of hell, your heard the angelic call of your office BFF.

“It feels like the devil’s armpit in here, god, do not expect an miracles from me today, I’m collecting my laptop and immediately moving away from all the heavy heat-producing machinery in my cave. Anyone got any space at their desk for me to work at?”

“Yes!” You replied a little too quickly.

“Feel free to make yourself at home, Pen, I have to look over some files with Reid later anyways so I’ll just pull up a spare chair to his desk, it’s all yours.” You thanked your lucky stars that everyone was too hot to tease you about your imminent proximity to the office’s Boy Wonder.

It turns out hiding a small, tiny, stupid crush from a team of FBI profilers wasn’t the easiest thing to do, but you were confident in thinking the only one who had clocked on so far was Penelope. And that was only because of your weekly girls nights and an unfortunate habit of spilling secrets while intoxicated. Sure, the others still teased sometimes, but that was only because the two of you were the easiest targets. And they just didn’t know how on the nose they were sometimes.

She gave you a quick look, of the ‘we will be discussing this later’ variety but didn’t say anything else and quickly excused herself to collect her things.

You quickly pulled up a (non-leather) chair next to Reid’s and straightened out your dress as you started searching for the file you were looking for. Although you absolutely had an ulterior motive to intruding on his space, you actually did have work to do. But the heat, and the knowledge that you’d be working closely with Reid again any minute now did nothing to help you stay focused.

Of course, having worked on the same team now for three years meant that you’d been alone together before. In all honestly, he was your partner of choice for any field task and you complimented each other well. The two of you worked together on Geographical Profiles for the majority of your cases, using your people skills, and his practical knowledge to gain insight into the locations unsubs lived, worked, murdered and hid their victims. And of course, you were friends outside the office, too. But you felt there was a distance between the two of you that made itself known the minute you stepped off the Jet or out of the bullpen.

As you searched the desk, you let your mind wander to what he would look like in this heat. You knew he didn’t deal with the heat well, and could often be found with his shirt sleeves rolled up and top buttons undone on the cases in the warmer climates. You thought about him panting in the heat, pushing his hair out of his face, glistening with sweat and grumbling quietly about the heat. You specifically thought back to a case from a few weeks back, where the two of you had an awkward run-in with an automatic sprinkler when you made your way to interview a witness. His purple shirt had ended up soaked, and on day six of the investigation, his go bag was thankfully short of replacement clothing. So he’d sat in the precinct, shirt semi-transluscent, completely oblivious to your brazen oggling and sudden lack of anything intellectual to say. Or anything to say in general.

It was only as you felt yourself getting warmer (a particularly impressive feat on today of all day’s) that you had to pull yourself out of the fantasy. But of course, as you stood up to get yourself a cool drink, you realised you were face to face with the man of your fantasies.

“Y/N? Did you need something?” He looked down at you, with a soft smile on his face.

“Oh! No, it was Garcia, she, um, she needed somewhere to work because her office is practically a sauna with all those computers. And I was thinking, we still need to work on that report on the geographical profile from the last case, so I offered her…my…” You trailed off, noticing you were rambling and allowed yourself a second to look at the man in front of you properly for the first time that day.

It was going to be a miracle if you got any work done ever again.

Like you, he’d opted for a change in uniform. He’d rid himself of his usual waistcoat-cardigan combo and was left in a button down shirt. It was, as you’d hoped and prayed, open slightly more than usual at the top. You frowned unconsciously as you realised he had also pushed his shirt sleeves up to his elbows, unhappy that you wouldn’t get to watch him do it in-person, his veins popping out as he exerted himself in the smallest way.

A few seconds of silence passed, and you had to make yourself tear your eyes away from a droplet of sweat that was neatly making its way down his throat, tracing a line that you could only hope to one day follow with your lips. When you snapped your eyes up to his, he nervously did the same, gripping his bag a little tighter to him.

“Oh, yeah that sounds good, um, let me just put my bag down and we can, uh, get started I guess.”

“Yeah of course. I was just gonna grab a drink first, do you want one?”

“Sure, yeah, a coffee would be good.”

“Okay, I’m no expert but that cannot be healthy in this heat. I know you’re practically a caffeine addict at this point, but I’m getting you a glass of water and you’re going to thank me, okay Doctor?”

He rolled his eyes and settled comfortably into his seat, but made no complaints as you walked away.

-X-

“This is ridiculous, how can they expect us to work like this?” Agent Prentiss grumbled from her desk.

“Oh, come on now, Prentiss, you can’t be complaining about a little heat, now.”

You rolled your eyes at your coworkers playful back-and-forth, doing your best to not melt into your borrowed seat. You’d been working side-by-side with Reid for the last three hours and the heat was now unbearable. You were stuck to the seat in an uncomfortable way, especially with the extra exposed skin from your dress. It had ridden up your legs more than you expected it would, so you were constantly shifting in your seat attempting to keep yourself decent.

The heat rolling off your teammate didn’t help. You had assumed that his love of cardigans, scarves and layers in general meant that he usually ran on the cooler side, but he was practically burning up next to you, making any and all accidental touch near intolerable.

Each accidental brush of his fingers as you passed files between the two of you, each knock of your knees together under the desk as you moved to read over one-anothers shoulders, and every time you got up for another drink, it’s like he’s read your mind because he stood up at the same time and you had to awkwardly untangle yourself from the mess of desk chairs and office furniture. With every touch, you feel yourself getting hotter and hotter, the heat pooling between your legs embarrassingly.

It’s only when, later in the day, he brushes the seam of your skirt with his fingers when reaching over you with his other hand for a file you know for a fact he does not need, you realise that all of those accidental touches may have been absolutely intentional.

Lowering your voice to a whisper, you bring your lips closer to his ears.”Spence, what was that?” You try to keep your voice steady, but his fingers are stil lingering closer to your sensitive areas than you found comfortable.

He drops his eyes to yours, looking you in the eye for the first time since you started working together in a comfortable silence.

“What was what?” He asks innocently, his cheeks flushes as he starts drawing small circles on your thigh.

“You’re touching me. You’ve been touching me a lot today, Doctor.”

“Oh, I’m Doctor now, am I?” He smiles at you before quickly moving his attention back to the file he was reading.

“Don’t change the subject.” You feel your whole body flush, as he ignores you and continues his reading, not removing his hand from your leg the entire time.

“S-Spencer, I’m serious.” He looks at you again then, and your heart jumps into your throat as you realise he’s removed his hand from the hem of your skirt, only to have it return under the material, moving closer and closer to where you really wanted him.

“You know,” he whispers under his breath, so quiet you’re sure that no one could overhear, “you look really pretty in this dress.”

Your brain is short circuiting as you feel his hand on your inner thigh, failing to register the implication of his words as you do your best to stammer out a reply.

“A-actually, Garcia chose it out for me. She said that you would-” you cut yourself off before you can say anymore. You’re surrounded by a room of your close friends and teammates and you’re doing your best not to beg your incredibly attractive coworker to push his fingers into you right then and there. Biting your lip so you don’t say anything else, you try to stand and shift away.

But Reid is there, and with his other hand he maneouvers you even closer to him somehow.

“She said I would what, beautiful?”

He’s so close now and you find yourself again staring at his exposed neck, wanting nothing more than to bury your head in him and kiss and lick and bite until he gives you what you want. The little circles he’s drawing on your legs are removing your inhibitions quicker than any alcohol could.

But then he grips you a little tighter, and forces you to look up into his eyes again and respond.

“She said that you would, uh, she said that you would’nt be able to take your eyes off of me. We were shopping together and she was just teasing and, well, yeah.”

“All dressed up for me, then? You thought you’d test the theory and see if she was right?”

And suddenly he’s ghosting his fingers across your panties and you’re doing your best to not make any other noises as he looks you deep in your eyes.

“Do you think she was right, Y/N?” He asks. But before your brain can catch up and choose whether or not to answert, he’s pulling away. He’s standing up and he’s walking over to Morgan, file in hand, asking questions about another previous case file, and you’re left sitting at his desk questioning if any of that actually just happened.

-X-

You spent the rest of the day in a daze. Luckily, your team was so busy complaining about the heat that you were sure none of them noticed the tension you carried through the rest of your day. With the AC still not working, Garcia had gained permission from Hotch to head back to her own apartment to finish up the day with more appropriate equipment, and had quickly evacuated your desk, allowing you to retreat back to your own space.

Emily had finished her own paperwork early due to a well-timed bet with Morgan, and had taken herself off to JJ’s office, and Morgan was meeting with Hotch in his office to discuss a potential death row intervew. So with the end of the workday in sight, only you and Reid remained in the bullpen.

After your little run in, you knew that you weren’t going to get any effective work done. Emily had once joked that Reid’s high IQ gets slashed to 60 every time he comes in contact with an attractive woman. At the time, you’d laughed, joked along. Nowthat it was your reality, it wasn’t as funny to you.

He’d played with you, called you beautiful, had his hands on you in the most frustratingly dizzying way- and then just as soon walked away from you. It wasn’t as if you wanted him to take you right then and there, in front of the entire office.

In fact, you’re quite sure that no matter how horny you were, you’d have stopped him before he went any further that publically. But you weren’t as sure you wouldn’t have dragged him off to a supply closet and forced him down on his knees and under your skirt.

To be short, you were pissed. He had left you, hot and bothered, on a day where you literally could get no relief from the heat.

You watched him work for a while after that. His desk faced away from yours, which meant you could covertly watch him whilst he worked and he would be none the wiser. After catching yourself staring a hole into the back of his head for the fifth time in an hour, you grunted out a curse and started packing your things up for the day. Unfortunately, you were just loud enough to catch the man’s attention.

“Leaving so soon, princess?”

“Yes. It’s hot and I’m tired and I just want to go home and take a cold shower and get into bed.” You started packing your things up again, but you quickly noticed that Spencer was doing the same.

“Are you leaving as well?” You asked, your stomach doing a small flip in apprehension of his answer.

“Yeah. I’m also hot, and tired and a cold shower sounds amazing right about now.”

You flushed at even the slightest change of a double meaning. Did he want to shower with you? Was he really going to step over that line?

He continued to pack up his things calmly, and you did the same. You walked towards the elevator, and it wasnt until he reached from behind you to press the call button that you realised he was so closely following you.

“And besides, your bed sounds amazing right about now.” The hairs on your neck stood up as he whispered into your ear, his hot breath fanning against your neck as you felt heat pool between your legs for the second time that day. You froze up like a deer in headlights, and as the elevator dinged open, you felt Spencer walk you in, press the button, and close the door before making his next move.

“You didn’t answer me earlier, you know? When I asked about the dress? Do you think Garcia was right?” He had crowded you into one corner of the elevator, and your brain was still short-circuiting. Shit, maybe you were the one whose IQ was cut in half, because the man in front of you seemed more confident than you had ever seen him before.

His placed his hands on the guard rail either side of you, as one of his legs found its way between yours and you let out a small whimper, then cursed yourself when you saw the smirk growing on his face.

“Come on, Princess, use your words.” He teased again.

“She wasn’t right.” You breathed out. “You looked at me a few times, but nothing too long and nothing…inappropriate, but-”

“But what?” He pushed his leg further into you, moving his hands to grip the fabric at our waist, and suddenly you were counting your blessings that no other agent in the building had decided to use the elevator right now.

“But you can’t keep your hands off of me.” His lips crashed into yours the second you finished your sentence, as you desperately grabbed at his hair, desperate to feel more and more of him against you despite the sticky heat.

He pulled away reluctantly as the elevator came to a stop in the basement carpark, but you still desperately clung to him, pressing kisses into his jaw and down his neck as you breathed in the scent of his sweat on his skin. Your words had failed you, but your body was desperate to communicate exactly what you needed.

He chuckled as he pulled you off of him, stroking your hair as he pulled you to your car. Opening the passenger side door for you and taking the keys from your bag, he placed a kiss to your temple, pulling away only enough to whisper into your ear. ”Which one of us can’t keep their hands off the other now?”

You were hot and delirious and you were not going to interrupt him now. He climbed into the driver’s seat, something you knew he didn’t do often, and placed his hand on your leg again as he drove.

“Spread your legs,” he ordered as soon as you were far enough away from the building. You complied immediately, not wanting to interrupt anything the man might do to you. “Good girl,” he mumbled as he immediately picked up where he left off earlier, rubbing your sensitive nub through your underwear. Your dress was pushed up now

“You know, Garcia was right” he spoke again, his fingers snaking their way under the elastic of your underwear. You could only moan in surprise, desperately close to getting exactly what you wanted.

“I have been staring at you this whole day. You came in this short dress, practically on display for anyone to see.” His fingers were now slowly circling your clit, going torturously slowly as you bucked up your hips for some much needed friction.

“When you got me that glass of water, I followed you, you know. Watched you reach for the glass on the top shelf, saw your skirt riding up. We’re you so desperate for me to notice you that you put yourself on display for the entire office like a little whore?” You moaned in surprise as his words registered in your mind.

You tried to reply, to deny and protest your innocence, but he chose that minute to thrust a finger into you, the awkward angle forced by your position in the car creating a beautiful friction. You started rocking your hips quicker against his hand, opening yourself up to him fully, and grabbing his wrist so he couldn’t pull away for a third time that day.

“You can’t even deny it, Look at you using my hand to get yourself off. Are you gonna come for me? Gonna do it right here in your car?” You moan out a yes as he adds another finger, stretching you out further as you whimper around him.

“Fuck, yes Spence, I’m a whore, your little whore.” You feel that familiar coil in the bottom of your stomach tighten and soon your releasing yourself all over his hands. Gasping for air, your head falls back on the passenger seat, and you release your grip on Spencer’s hands.

“Good job, princess, you did so well for me. We’re almost home now, let’s get you in that shower.” You whimper a little, nodding as you allow your brain to settle once again, completely comfortable with letting Spencer take control and do whatever he needs to do with you for the rest of the night.

-X-

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #Criminal minds fandom #criminal minds fanfiction #Criminal minds fic #Spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x y/n #Spencer reid x you #spencer reid x self insert #Spencer reid x oc #Spencer reid drabble #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid imagine #Criminal minds smut #maturereiding

7K notes · View notes

machetegirl109 · 10 months

Text

Synopsis: During a hot day at the beach with your friends, the sexual tension between you and Ellie leads the both of you to the passenger seat of her truck; again. *inspiration: tudo aconteceu by mc du black*

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, F/F, modern!AU, suggestive and offensive language, weed&alcohol, smut, dry humping, very good vibes, loser!ellie x reader

important info about my stories here

©machetegirl109 (credits to tudo aconteceu by mc du black that inspired me to write this) DO NOT copy/steal my work OR post it on any platforms

Word Count: 2.2k+

Oneshot: It All Happened

❝︎i fell in love

now i miss you endlessly❞︎

It was a hot day. The sun shined bright and no dark clouds were visible in the sky; it was the perfect day to go to the beach, and oh, Ellie was dying to. As soon as Dina texted her, demanding that she’d meet her, Jesse and you at the beach, excitement formed at the pit of her stomach as she hurriedly changed from her sleepwear to a black triangle two-piece set, anticipating seeing you again. She wondered what swimsuit you would wear this time, if it was the colored one that flattered the tone of your skin, or that Brazilian cut bikini that perfectly displayed your pretty ass.

Ellie put on a pair of light washed jean shorts, not bothering to put on a shirt and stepping into her simple havaianas. Grabbing a tote back and packing it with some necessities like a towel, water bottles and sunscreen, as well as a tin of Altoids that was filled with some pre-rolls. She gets into her truck and makes her way to the beach, quietly singing along to the song that plays on the radio. The memory of you on top of her, wearing nothing but a wet bikini bottom and a blunt between your fingers replayed inside her head – What I’d give to see her all high and fuck out on my lap again she thought and her blood felt like electricity as it flowed through her veins all the way down to her core.

After driving for about an hour, she finally arrives and parks her car in a more secluded area before the entry of the beach — The spot was hidden behind some palm trees that blocked surrounding vision, making it the perfect place to spend some alone time with you later. Ellie takes her things and heads to the beach, her eyes wander around until she spots Jesse sitting on his sunchair; head laid back, eyes closed towards the sunny sky and body spread on in as he holds a cold Heineken can. Upon hearing someone approach him, Jesse turns his face to his side, looking at Ellie who’s setting her tote bag onto the burning sand and taking a seat on the chair next to his.

“Ellieee, ‘sup, my friend!” He reaches his hand towards hers, exchanging a dap greeting. Ellie smiles and he continues. “There’s some drinks on the cooler right there,” Jesse points to a small light-blue icebox a few steps from them. “And some snacks on the bag beside it,” She nods looking at the black backpack. “Feel free to take whatever you want; Dina and Y/N are taking a swim.” Ellie turns her gaze to the wide blue ocean, watching as you and Dina laugh splashing the water around.

“Thanks. You getting in, too?”

“Yeah, just wanted to drink a bit and catch a tan first.” Ellie stands and walks towards the cooler, opening and getting a beer. Going to sit again, she opens it and takes a sip, the cold liquid refreshing her throat as she lays her back onto the beach chair. “What about you, gonna take a dip with Y/N?” She chuckles and turns her face away from him.

“I don’t know what you mean by that,”

“Haa, I’m not so sure about that. You think we don’t know what y’all were up to in your car when we came to the beach last week?”

“We just… Talked. And- and we hotboxed.” She trips over her words, shy over the little escapade you two had.

“Whenever two people who have insane sexual tension are together, in a closed space, they do a lot more than just talking.” Jesse proclaims as if it was a matter of fact and Ellie rolls her eyes.

“Whatever… You’re so annoying.”

“I know,” He says proudly as he places his drink on the sand and stands up. “I’m gonna go play mermaids’ with Dina now, wanna come?”

“Not now, go ahead.” Ellie watches as Jesse lets out an alright and he begins to walk towards the crystalline water, swimming towards you and Dina who smiles as he approaches. Soon the three of you engage in a conversation following up by Jesse making an exaggerated mermaid act, causing you and Dina to swim a little further from him.

“Can you two please stop being boring bitches and have fun?” He pleads, upset over the fact you nor his girlfriend wanted to act like kids in public.

“Yeah, no. I’m not gonna swim around and act stupid like you.”

“You’re just mad I have childlike wonder, Y/N.” He goes closer to Dina and wraps his arms around her. “Will you play with me, Dina? You can be Ariel and I’ll be Prince Eric.”

“We can reenact that scene where he drowns but instead of saving you I just swim away.” Dina suggests and he lets an annoyed huff out.

“Wow, I thought you loved me.”

“God, Jesse, when did you get so dramatic?” She hugs him back and he kisses her cheek. “I’ll play with you.”

“Y/N?” Jesse looks at you with puppy eyes and you hum. “Will you play with your dear friends?”

“No, but thanks for asking.” He kisses his teeth and throws the salty water in your direction. “Jesse!”

“You should go be boring with Ellie,” He says, pulling Dina closer to where the ocean got deeper. “She's by our stuff.” A smile appears on your face as Jesse lets you know she’s already here, you begin to swim back hurriedly, excited to see Ellie again. “They’re down bad for each other, huh?” Dina nods in agreement, the two of them watching you running towards the spot you all settled in when you arrived at the beach earlier this morning.

When Ellie sees you walking towards her, her green eyes sparkle with desire as she looks down at your body, almost exposed under the tiny bikini you’re wearing. You two exchange smiles with hidden intentions on it. When you finally stop in front of her chair, you lower yourself on her lap, pulling her into a hug; her body shivers as your cold wet body touches her hot one. Ellie takes in your scent, the mixture of sand and salty water into her nose as she presses her face onto the crook of your neck, making you only hug her even tighter.

“Hi Els,” You say softly as you pull back, looking at her face — Cheeks slightly red from the sun and her freckles more intense. “I wanted to see you so bad.” You confess shyly; not being able to take her off of your mind since the last encounter you two had.

“I wanted to see you, too.” Her hand comes up to your cheek, softly caressing it. “Did you not want to play mermaids with Jesse?” Ellie asks with humor in her voice and you chuckle.

“Yeah, I'd rather be around you,” Her smile widens and her hand falls to your naked thigh and your heartbeat falters. “Why didn’t you get in?” Ellie raises her other hand that holds her beer and gives it a little shake.

“I was just finishing up, and–” Ellie fingers trace up and down your soft skin, she looks down at your chest, covered by a small burgundy triangle top, and then backs up your eyes as she clears her throat. “To be honest, I was hoping you'd come here. I brought you something.” She leans forward on her beach chair with you still seated across both her legs, and places her can onto the sand, grabbing her tote bag. You observe her attentively as she removes a scratched metal tin and places it into your hands. Opening it, you see four perfectly wrapped blunts.

“Really? They're for me?” You give her a toothy smile, making her heart melt.

“Uhm. Just for you.” You close the tin and press a kiss onto Ellie's freckled cheek, who instantly holds your hips closer. You lean into her, moving your lips to her ear; giving a soft bite on her lobe. You can feel her body slightly shake under you – A naughty smile creeps up your face and you place one to the back of her neck, gripping it harshly as you pull her impossibly closer to you.

“You should take me to your car.” Your warm breath hits down her ear as you whisper and an almost inaudible moan escapes her lips. Ellie stands causing you to be back on your feet again and she quickly holds your empty hand, pulling you towards the beach entry with her. You try to keep up with her pace as you follow behind, and soon enough you two reach her old truck that hides behind the palm trees. Not being able to wait anymore, she presses you against the door and smacks a kiss onto your lips. Her soft lips carry a slight taste of the beer she was previously drinking.

You place your arms around her shoulders and Ellie clutches your hip with one hand as the other one moves down your thigh, grabbing it and bringing it up making you close your leg around her waist. She bites your bottom lip and pulls it forward with her teeth, her head going back as you reach her face to kiss her again. Before you're able to press them together again, she lets go of it and drops your leg back on the ground: giving your ass a slap as she pulls you away from the door.

Ellie opens the passenger seat door and enters; getting comfortable onto the seat as she pats both her hands over her thighs that are uncovered on her small low waist jean shorts.

“C’mere, pretty.” With no need to tell you twice, you get in, setting yourself on top of her with each of your legs divided on her sides; you throw the small metal tin on the driver’s seat. You press a small kiss on her lips before they make their way down her neck – One of her hands meets your ass again; she squeezes it roughly, earning a moan from you, and the other closer to the door reaches for the handle, shutting it close. “You look for fucking hot wearing that,” You move your lips back to hers and soon you two start a heavy and messy make out session.

Sinking your teeth into the plumpiness of her bottom lip, she opens her mouth allowing your tongue to move in and hers, too, explores the inside of your mouth. You grip her short locks tightly and she groans inside the kiss; both her hands holding onto each side of your asscheeks, rocking you back and forth above her crotch.

As the moans of you two start to get louder and louder each time your hips hit towards hers, you break the kiss; planning your hands on the sides of the headstand as Ellie tries to open her legs as much as she can in order to feel your clothed cunt rub against hers. She stares deep in your eyes, holding onto you as if you were about to run away, Ellie starts to move you against her even faster and rougher.

“Shit–” Her chest raises up and down fastly, her lungs losing air as she sees you untying your top and discarding it beside the joint-filled altoids. She feels herself getting even wetter at the vision of your perky nipples; lowering her mouth on your boobs, she alternates between the two as she sucks and licks, bites and kisses. Adrenaline and lust run through your veins as you feel her warm muscle on your sensitive nipples.

“Els– ahh,” Pornography moans leave your mouth, you two reaching closer and closer to that final snap inside the pit of your stomachs. “Don't stop, don't stop, pleasepleaseplease,” Upon hearing your cries, Ellie moans along with you as she deliciously rubs your cunt more violently against her own. Her eyes roll back as she feels your hand move from her naked stomach to her covered chest, sliding it under her top and flicking her nipple.

“Baby, baby– I'm gonna cum,” Ellie announces as her mouth lets go of your tits with a wet plop. You nod your head, letting her know you will, too. “Kiss me,” Tending to her wish, you put your lips on hers, kissing it one last time before you two reach your releases’. As Ellie feels the creamy liquid drip inside her bikini bottoms, her guidance on your hips falter, making you slow down, too, riding out your high. “Holy fuck.”

You let yourself fall into her as tiredness hits you. Ellie moves her hands to your back, giving you a bear hug. As the two of you take your time to catch your breath, she presses kind and loving kisses over your face, making you giggle with adoration.

“You want to smoke a little?” Ellie asks, a hint of desperation on her voice as she has finally met the opportunity to get you looking all pretty with your eyes red and horny on her lap, again. You nod your head, excitement making its way through your body.

“Yes, I do!”

ೃ⁀➷ thank you for reading! feel free to comment your thoughts, reblog, leave a heart and follow me˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

x-18 banner by @fic-dumpster

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie x y/n #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou smut #loser!ellie #it all happened ellie williams #©machetegirl109

532 notes · View notes

cringefailvox · 2 months

Note

i absolutely adore all of your hazbin fics theyre so good!! and well-written as well. u just get these guys ,,,🫠 what r some of ur fave hazbin fics >_<

ahhh thank you so much!!! that means so much to me <3 i've written 44k words of hazbin fic since the show came out which. is absolutely insane for me, but we're rolling with it LMFAO. i have a lot of fav fics but i'll try to limit myself and not let this post get totally out of hand:

Vintage Electronics by ckret2 — absolutely hysterical radiostatic fic written pre-s1 where vox replaces his dick with a microphone to seduce alastor. made me cry laughing. furthermore, anything written by ckret2, they're a fantastic author

a poor sinner's hand by vintagecassette — chronicle of husk & alastor's relationship, a brilliantly imagined backstory for how husk eventually ended up selling his soul

666: Live On Air! by @prince-liest — everything bel writes is fantastic, but this series in particular is incredible; radiostatic au where alastor lets vox fuck him ironically and then. well. it gets out of hand

BossaNova.EXE by vol_ctrl, XIntensity_FallsX — another pre-s1 radiostatic au where alastor attempts to manipulate vox by pretending to reciprocate his feelings, and again things get way out of hand. the experience of reading this one is electric, and if you commit to syncing the linked playlist with chapter 13 i guarantee you won't regret it

'tis but a flesh wound by leoandromeda — radiostatic, alastor accompanies rosie to an overlord party, dances with vox, and causes a brawl

pancakes, small talk by mirotic_chess — post-s1 reluctantly domestic radioapple. the summary says it best: lucifer makes pancakes and alastor keeps making jabs at him about his wife missing. they definitely get along!

Pornstar Martini by blatantblue, brightened — achingly soft series about husk & angel learning how to love each other as best as they can

Static Shock by @birdsaretoddlers — in progress, darkly hilarious and insightful radiostatic slowburn where vox drags alastor's unconscious body out of a dumpster 6 months after the finale

Strange Appetites by Gotllphi — in-progress, radioapple not-quite human au where lucifer & charlie go on vacation from hell to new orleans in the 1920s, where a certain serial killer is in desperate need of inspiration. literally a wacky dark romcom

Ye Mighty, Lay Down Your Arms by Expectosplendiferous — post-finale, alastor gets stitched up by rosie and subjected to dubcon cuddling by vox, respectively

No hiding place down here by ReminiscentBells — post-finale radioapple, tense and sweet and difficult by extremely satisfying. my fav "lucifer heals alastor after s1" fic and one of my fav explorations of sex-favorable asexuality. delicious

i'm realizing this list makes it exceedingly clear what characters and dynamics i tend to gravitate towards, but hell, i already reveal too much about my proclivities in my writing, why not commit to it

#honestly also if anyone just wanted to comb through my ao3 bookmarks you can do that too #that shit is way more revealing than this curated list tho LMFAO #thanks for the ask i really appreciate it!!! :]#hazbin hotel

87 notes · View notes

undead-supernova · 2 months

Text

I'll Pay the Price, You Won't.

It's a Delicate Need

Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5

18+ minors DNI

Masterlist

plot: you've never met eddie munson before...and even if your reputation's never been worse, desire is the sound of the whiskey and you're prepared for the risk. but are you willing to let it go to waste?

Pairings: modernrockstar!Eddie x fem!popstar!Reader (curvy!reader, bisexual!reader)

Warnings: drinking, mention of weed, there's genuine smut in here so sorry for the length, mention of body shaming

easter egg count: 32

wc: 6.9k

This chapter is inspired by the sound and lyrics of “Delicate” and her unreleased Lover track “Need” that I haven’t stopped thinking about since it leaked. This is one of my favorite things I've ever written and I can't believe I get to share it! Okay, have fun! I love these two so much! (special thanks to @munsonsbtch for helping chill out my frantic screaming about writing smut)

Late April, 2024

You met him in those weird ways celebrities do. Usually, it’s an award show or some house party thrown by mutual famous friends. For you, it was the Grammy after party.

Corroded Coffin won Best Rock Album for “Fire Shroud” and Best Metal Performance for the title track. (Ozzy Osborne presented their award and you couldn’t believe how jealous you were.)

You’d won Song of the Year for “Cradle Me”. The night was electric, one that would go down in history for you and your ever-growing career.

Because you’d done it. You won a Grammy.

And that was the only reason you decided to even go to the after party, really. You rode the high of your adrenaline, your tears. The squealing and stomping of victory as you basked in a kind of pride you’d never felt before. A kind of pride that you didn’t even know existed.

The room boomed with music, everyone seemingly on the same wave as you. You’d been practically shredding up the dance floor all on your own, taking time to close your eyes and feel a release for what seemed like the first time since you’d started your career. You were on top of your game, on top of the world. Nothing could derail you now.

As a remix of Miley Cyrus’ “Flowers” came to a close, you remembered where you were. Opened your eyes to look around you as another song sounded, the bass pulsating in your ears.

And despite the noise, everyone noticed when Corroded Coffin walked in.

Even you.

Here they were, all five members decked out in lavish outfits, all five shimmying their way through the parting crowd with drinks held high in the air. If it was anyone else, they’d look obnoxious and lame. But each one of the members of Corroded Coffin acted like real people. They were in sequins, dark makeup, designer suits and dresses…and they were normal. Just laughing their way through the crowd and dancing like idiots.

And that’s when you saw him.

About an hour after their arrival, Eddie Munson snuck away from the rest of the group. He was at the bar, nursing some whiskey, a smile on his face as he chatted with the bartender. Leaning sideways against the counter with his legs crossed, just lounging as he socialized.

And maybe it kind of seemed a little stalkerish that you were watching him across the room, sipping on your third Shirley Temple—with, yes, copious amounts of vodka—but you were merely observing.

You weren’t his biggest fan or anything, but you were still fascinated by him. By his effortless charm, the sheer effect he seemed to have on everyone. Some had called him the New It Guy, others had called him a Soon To Be Has Been. But, for the most part, he was considered the man of everyone’s dreams.

Not only that, but he was genuinely talented. Corroded Coffin was killing it, having reached newer heights. Those Grammys they won? Yeah, they’d already received two the year prior. In the last two years, they’d collaborated with Post Malone, Joan Jett, Bring Me The Horizon, Nova Twins, Amy Lee, Poppy… The list was starting to get rather full from how desirable it was to work with them, especially smaller artists they’d been bringing into the limelight.

Plus, they were bringing metal to new heights. Tearing down the walls of what it meant to listen to metal and defying how it was “supposed” to sound. And you could go on and on about their lyricism, the way that they wrote about more than just testosterone-driven rage. They talked about mental health, about heartache. Addiction. Loneliness and the way isolation stung. Even the intense weight of fear that comes with falling in love.

They were raw. They were real.

And you kinda wanted to talk to Eddie Munson.

He was alone, for God’s sake. Just a sitting duck by himself, clad in that outfit. The sequins on his blazer casted light over his cheek, reflecting off of the LED lights. His blazer was a deep eggplant, all velvet and cool and fitting perfectly tight against his toned muscles. There were patterns of small black roses strategically placed throughout. Not enough to be overwhelming, but enough to give the drama.

Oh, yeah. One more thing.

No. Shirt.

Just his lean stomach with an attention-grabbing happy trail that led to his incredibly tight leather pants. The color even matched his blazer. Combat boots. Rings adorning his fingers and some black nail polish. Layers of diamond bracelets and chains resting against the dark ink of his tattoos. A guitar pick at the center of a black velvet choker around his neck.

Yeah, you really wanted to talk to Eddie Munson.

For a second, you stared down at yourself. You had a momentary lapse in confidence, wondering if what you were wearing was acceptable for a metal lead. Because you were clad in a silk knee-length dress, blush pink. One that hugged your curves and twirled around you wherever you moved. It was Old Hollywood. It was graceful. It was you.

Fuck it.

You approached, handing the bartender your empty glass and kindly asking for a refill. When you glanced over at Eddie in your peripheral, you knew he was being respectful, looking down at his drink rather than you.

It was up to you to deliver the opening line.

“You know,” you started, catching his attention immediately. “you’d kinda look like Lord Farquad if you got a bob.”

Eddie’s eyebrows lifted, trying to stifle a chuckle. “Yeah? You think so?” You nodded and watched as he tried to tuck in the bottom half of his hair to create the illusion of a bob. “‘Run, run, run as fast as you can. You can’t catch me, I’m the Gingerbread Man!’”

You were right. He kinda looked like Lord Farquad’s taller, hotter, more glamorous brother.

“That is perfect,” you said, slow clapping. “Brilliant.”

He laughed, moving his whisky as a subtle invite to stand next to him. “I’m glad you think so. I’m Eddie, by the way.”

You smiled, telling him your name, watching as he nodded. He was wearing some eye shadow, all deep purple and bruise-y. He seemed to have had a coat of lipgloss on that was now lining the rim of his glass, with only a slight residue remaining. It was still effortlessly beautiful. He was effortlessly beautiful.

“Yeah, I actually know who you are.”

Your eyes widened. He knew you?

“I didn’t think it was your genre,” you said honestly.

Eddie shook his head. “Nah. Come on, give yourself a little credit. ‘Tetris’ had a bit of a rock vibe to it.”

“Yeah, true,” you agreed, rolling your eyes. That was a single from your last album, one that hadn’t even gotten much traction from audiences. “But it’s nothing like A Rush of Hellfire.”

Eddie’s eyebrows shot up again. “You heard our first album?”

Confusion flooded your features. “Well, yeah. Hasn’t everyone?”

“No one talks about it anymore,” he responded, shrugging as he scratched the top of his head. “You a fan?”

“Not, like, a diehard fan or anything, you know? It’s fun to work out to. Or scream in the car. You did that remix with Post Malone. ‘Something Real’, right?” He smiled, nodding. “Yeah, I can’t get enough of it. The original is heavenly, but you guys put a spin on it that made it transcend the meaning and give it an extra boost of emotion that didn’t even seem possible. And your added verse? I mean, it was just so raw and…”

You stopped yourself, starting to feel embarrassed from practically fangirling about this guy’s music to his face. He may have been actively listening, or was pretending to, but you had to stop before it got to be too much.

“Anyways,” you finished. “I really like it.”

His smile grew and it was like something flutter-y-ish was rushing to your heart. What was that about?

“I’m flattered,” he said. “Unexpected, but flattered nonetheless.”

“Why unexpected?”

“Well, I mean. Well, your music—I just assumed—”

You laughed at that. “I like way more than just pop. That’s just the music I make, you know?” He gave you another silent nod, making you feel a little self-conscious. “So, I’m guessing you’re not really into my stuff?”

“No, I really like it. I just don’t want you to think I’m a diehard fan or anything. Actually, it’s kinda funny. I saw your cover of ‘Lolita’ by…” he trailed, waving his fingers around in thought until he pointed at you with a smirk. “Lana Del Rey, that’s it. Saw it a few weeks ago. Very cool. I liked the way you changed the sound. It seemed a little sadder than the OG, even with the synth.”

You smiled. You’d done that cover in the BBC Live Lounge to make fun of the way the media portrayed you. A player on both sides, leading everyone on and leaving them high and dry. Being a temptress of some sort, always on your best misbehavior. It was a common story, something that was far from realistic. But the media circus wasn’t about reality. It was about the fantasy.

And a lot of people misinterpreted the song choice as a confirmation of your reputation. It was mortifying. And annoying. Mostly fucking annoying.

And as the bartender handed you your drink, you prayed to whatever God was out there that Eddie didn’t think the same about you.

“I did it as a joke,” you defended sheepishly. “You’ve probably heard about me, but I’m not actually like that.”

And you knew that there was no reason for you to justify yourself to him, especially someone rumored to be a player himself. Eddie was known to the public as someone who collected groupies like a goddamn claw machine, but it was seen as something desirable. He was hailed as some kind of Metal Prince of Darkness. (Though, you’d never come into contact with anyone who’d actually been involved with him…)

So why were you nervous all of a sudden?

You studied his reaction, the way he barely had one. He just kept smiling like that, this kind of half-smile as if you were the most interesting person he’d ever met. You were sure he smiled at everyone like that.

And if it was a trick, well fuck, it was working.

“I definitely got the joke,” he said, chuckling as your eyes widened. “What, did no one else?”

You shrugged. “Not a lot of them, no.”

“Well, I guess the world is as dense as I thought.”

You couldn’t stifle your giggle as you lifted your drink to your lips, nearly spilling it on yourself.

And maybe Eddie thought he was being smooth, but he took a small step forward, closer than he’d been before. “Just letting you know,” he said. “as someone who is also not like that, I thought it was amazing.”

You could smell the tobacco wafting off of his jacket, mixed with something like amber or bergamot. His pinky finger was dangerously close to yours, seemingly inching forward. The closer he got, the easier it was to decode the exact shade of his eyes. Brown had been wrong. No, they were hickory. They were umber. And these hickory, umber eyes were looking at you.

It wasn’t fair in the slightest.

Something in you wanted to call him out because there was something definitely happening between you. Maybe it was a game he was playing, taking shots at your weak spots to lower your defenses. Or maybe it was genuine chemistry, luring you in with a dangerous kind of desire that you’d never felt before.

It was something you couldn’t even explain to yourself.

Out of seemingly nowhere, Eddie asked, “Beatles or Stones?”

You snorted. “Easy. Beatles. You clearly haven’t listened to my album.”

“Oh, I’ve heard Acacia My Dear. How could I not?” Your eyes widened. “But I thought you were sane. Guess I was wrong.” He sighed, waving you away. “This has been fun but get out of my sight.”

“Okay, wow. How does it feel to be a loser?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“How does it feel to be wrong?”

“The Stones do not have half of the amount of hits that The Beatles had. Name any Beatles album, which I bet you can’t, and I can tell you the plethora of well-known songs from each one. You can’t fight me on the factual evidence—”

“Do you wanna dance?” he asked suddenly, cutting you off.

You froze, confusion and intrigue colliding inside you.

“Didn’t you just tell me to go away?”

“As a joke.”

“Are you going to continue to insult my preferences?”

He leaned in just a bit further. “Is that something you’d want?”

“Maybe a little,” you admitted, trying to catch your breath as he took it. “As a treat.”

“I’d be honored.”

Eddie took you to the floor like a gentleman in a ballroom, one arm pressed against his back with the other holding your hand up. As if he was wearing a luxurious tux and you were in a ballgown. As if this was something serious, something more than it should’ve been.

And, god, whatever he was doing was fucking with your head.

Because the two of you started dancing to one of the popular hits of the year, a song you hadn’t cared to listen to. But it didn’t seem to matter to either of you, going back and forth with each other as you moved through the dance floor. Eddie shimmied his shoulders and rolled his hips. You gladly followed his lead.

As the song hit its bridge, he leaned in. “By the way, I don’t know this song.”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, I don’t either. I’ve been religiously listening to Maisie Peters for the last year.”

He nodded before looking at you with a bit of a sheepish expression. “I don’t know who that is either, I’m afraid.”

“That’s more offensive than your Beatles comments,” you teased.

He rolled his eyes before taking your hands and spinning you around. Laughter fell from your lips easily, finding the sensation quite dizzying.

God, how was his energy so infectious?

He tried to bring you back up, to let go. But you were done for, wobbling in his arms from the dizzy spell coming over you. One of your held hands was placed against his chest, the drumming of his heart nearly matching the beat of the song.

“Woah there,” he teased.

You sighed, your grasp on his hand tightening. “Don’t blame me,” you said. “That was all you.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, you’re right.” When you were stable enough to stand properly and the room stopped spinning, he asked, “Favorite Beatles song?”

You scoffed. “Why should I tell you if you’re just going to make fun of it?”

“You wound me.”

“I have evidence. Exhibit A, five minutes ago you told me my opinion was wrong. Twice.”

“I’ll behave myself.” You raised an eyebrow. “Scout’s honor.”

You decided to answer truthfully. “It changes every day, I think.”

“So, what’s todays?” he pressed. When you gave him a quizzical look, he shook his head. “Don’t leave me hanging over here.”

Your smile returned. “Today, it’s ‘Sun King’.”

“Ah, a highly underrated track from Abbey Road. Mine’s either ‘I Want You (She’s So Heavy)’ or ‘Why Don’t We Do It In The Road?’ from the White Album.”

You couldn’t believe your ears. “You know their discography and yet you disrespect them.”

He wagged a finger at you. “You’re mistaken, young maiden. I never said The Beatles were bad. I said they weren’t as good as The Rolling Stones.”

“I think I hate you,” you said without thinking. Without even knowing how he was going to take that.

But then Eddie’s small smile grew into a grin. “Oh, yeah?”

You couldn’t help but smile back. “Mhm.”

“Does that mean we’ll never speak again?”

“No,” you admitted, showing him your cards.

Eddie smirked. “Good.”

Apparently, he was showing his, too.

Another drink and a round of bickering later, you and Eddie were promptly interrupted by a rumbling of voices calling out to you.

Well, not you.

“Ed!”

The two of you turned and watched as the rest of Corroded Coffin rushed over. Well, Ronnie was trailing behind, still in her heels. And you commended her for not running like the rest.

Eddie let out a chuckle and you watched a grin stretch across his face, lighting him up more than anything else seemingly did tonight. It was a look of love, of appreciation. Friendship.

And when he looked at you, you swore that it intensified.

God, he was something else.

“This is Grant, Gareth, Ronnie, and Jeff,” he introduced, gesturing to the group.

As if you didn’t already know.

“Nice to meet you all,” you said, giving each one a handshake and a smile.

“Jesus, you’re prettier in person,” Ronnie said, giving you a look over. “Love the dress.”

You could help but smile, especially with how beautiful she was. Ronnie Ecker. A legendary fucking female drummer standing in front of you. Her satin dress hugged her hips, a slit running up her thigh as the tips of her fingers rested against the opening. And, sure, Eddie was standing next to you, and you were extremely interested in him. But you’d be lying if you didn’t feel heat rising to your cheeks at the sight of one of the hottest women alive.

“Right back at you,” you replied, trying to stop sounding so nervous. “You’re incredible at the drums. It’s such an honor—"

“We’re heading out, actually,” Gareth said loudly, catching your attention.

“To do what? Go to bed?” Eddie asked, snorting. “Did you grind the indica by mistake?”

Grant shrugged. “We came to see if you wanted to go back and do a one-shot…” he trailed, eyes flickering over to you. “But then we saw you over here and, well…”

Jeff pointed at you. “We decided we wanted to meet you,” he said plainly.

“Yeah, exactly,” Gareth confirmed.

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “Oh, please. I’m really not that interesting.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Eddie said, catching your gaze. “Not to us or anyone else.”

There was something about the way he said it that made you wonder exactly what he was thinking about you. Because there was that hint of a smirk again, one that you couldn’t help but interpret as: You should see yourself the way I do in this moment.

And even though the others fell headfirst into their own tangent, you decided to lean over to Jeff.

“A one-shot, you say?” you asked. “Like for D and D?”

A grin spread across his face. “Precisely.”

“You guys play a lot?”

Jeff nodded. “Yeah, Eddie’s, like, the best DM I’ve ever seen.”

“Better than Brennan Lee Mulligan?” you questioned.

“Close enough,” he admitted.

Eddie tapped Jeff on the shoulder. “Did someone just mention Brennan?”

“She did,” Jeff said as he patted your shoulder. “Wanna get super jealous?”

You raised an eyebrow as Eddie gave you a shit-eating grin. “I’m guest starring in his upcoming campaign.”

“Oh, fuck off!” you exclaimed. Stomping your foot, you shook your head. Your lips twisted into a smile, all jealous and playful. Because you were extremely envious, having watched D&D for years but never playing it yourself. And here Eddie was, getting the opportunity to work with one of the best DMs there were. What a cool fucking asshole.

“Well, if you ever wanted to plaaaaaay,” Gareth exaggerated, clasping his hands together and grinning. “We could always head back and get you a character sheet.”

Eddie flicked his forehead, giving him a hard stare that you couldn’t understand. “Gareth, we are not doing a one-shot tonight.” When both men’s eyes flickered over to you for a moment, you began to pick up the meaning. “So you better scram.”

And then it was its own conversation, one that started with goodbyes but led into another whirlwind of comments. You tried to follow along, tried to understand what they were even talking about in their shared campaign. There was something about a powerful wizard, another realm underneath the one you called your own. A world that seemed upside down, a world that you were glad you didn’t live in.

And as soon as it began to descend into chaos, Eddie sighed and held up his hand. “Alright, I’m cutting us off. Go to bed, you lovely dumbasses.”

“I like you,” Jeff said as the others hugged and bumped fists. Your eyes widened. “I like you a lot.”

Without a chance to ask him what he meant by that, Jeff was filing behind Grant and Gareth, all three sneaking glances back at you as they walked away.

Ronnie gave you another look over before leaning in. “Some advice? Don’t break his heart,” she said, patting your shoulder before she hustled to catch up with the others.

Shock ran through you at the sheer idea of feelings being involved between you and Eddie Munson of all people. As if he would ever actually want something like that. The idea was so absurd that you almost had to scoff.

“Did you want to keep talking?”

You turned to Eddie whose stare was becoming almost too magnetic, having to look away every few seconds. If you didn’t, the eye contact was going to send you into cardiac arrest.

“Talking?” you asked, lifting an eyebrow.

He played innocent, shrugging. “Well, we could always talk. We could do other things, too. If you’d like.”

“You want me to go home with you?”

“To my hotel room, maybe?” Eddie paused, clearly trying to interpret your expression and failing. “Uh, unless I’m reading this all wrong.”

“You’re not,” you said.

Without breaking eye contact, his fingers found your palm before lifting it and pressing his lips against the back of your hand. You could only hope the music would mask your sharp breath.

“I have fewer scarlet letters than people think.”

Another kiss. Another lodge in your throat.

“So, don’t think I’m doing this because I’m a whore.”

You could only nod. “Likewise.”

“I just…” he paused, a hint of something covering his features. “I think you’re really cool.”

“Likewise,” you concluded, disconnecting your hands before his touch could electrocute you further. “See you at the hotel.”

“How many scarlet letters do you have?” you asked Eddie.

How the hell you’d managed to be alone in the elevator was beyond you. In fact, it was a miracle on its own that the two of you were able to leave separately, arrive at the hotel without paparazzi standing out front, and casually make it to the elevator without anyone taking notice. It was a rather close call.

Or maybe it was a sign.

You nearly rolled your eyes at the thought before Eddie’s laugh brought your attention back.

“Ah, man,” he said. “Three, the first two being in high school. What about you?”

“Four,” you said plainly. “All post high school. I wasn’t very popular back then.”

“Neither was I.”

You looked over at him, curious about what else was there.

“Really?”

Eddie snorted. “Are you kidding me? Of course not. Look at me.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He shook his head. “Uh-uh. Those first two? They used me to get back at their boyfriends. Thought the local freak would, I don’t know, make them jealous?”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “I was also the freak.”

“Really?” You nodded. “Could’ve fooled me.”

And there that stare was again, burning a hole in your chest that you weren’t sure how to make go away. But did you really even want it to?

No words were exchanged as you made your way down the hallway. You looked back, always alert at the potential of a camera or wandering eyes. And when you made your way inside his hotel room, thick with the scent of him, you felt the prickles on your neck that always came when you feared danger.

For some reason, you couldn’t help but look at the door, making sure it was locked. Making sure that the shadows underneath the door were passing by quickly. Muffled voices came and went, but your guard never wavered.

“You don’t have to worry about anyone seeing us,” Eddie said. You turned slowly, watching him unlace his boots. “This floor is all booked for the band. No need to risk anything. That’s probably just my guy, James. He’s a hardass, but he loves a good party.”

A small chuckle left your lips. “It’s not that I’m scared to be seen with you,” you explained. “It’s just a nasty habit.”

“I don’t blame you. Las Vegas can drive people crazy.”

You took the moment to undo your heels, finally able to let your feet breathe after a long, long night of discomfort. There was a stinging pain the moment your bare feet hit the carpet.

But you couldn’t wait, taking tentative steps towards him. Like you were assessing him, assessing the risk. Watching as he watched you, standing like you’d made a silent request that he couldn’t say no to.

“I won’t bite,” he said, hands reaching out to yours. Taking your fingertips and pulling you towards him. Like you were still on that dance floor, like he was as lost in the moment as you were.

As you drew near, you caught a glimpse of his smudged eye shadow, the way it was starting to smear. His eyes, darker than before in the low light of the lamp, only on you.

Yeah, you weren’t thinking about consequences anymore.

“I have to be up early in the morning,” you whispered, nearly chasing his lips with yours.

He nodded. “You can leave whenever you want,” he said softly, thumb brushing your lower lip. “I do want you to know that I want to kiss you so bad it’s going to kill me.”

“Well, why didn’t you just say—”

Eddie kissed you fiercely, nearly knocking you over.

It was like he was chasing after you. Wherever you moved, he moved. Whenever you gasped, he gasped. Your hand met the back of his neck, so his moved to yours.

It was the kindling of a fire.

If you dared to utter it, you would call it passion.

You slowly made your way to his neck, scratching against the choker as you went. Eddie inhaled sharply, trembling as you made your way down his chest. Desperate to feel all of it. Desperate to understand where he started and where he ended. Wondering if you’d truly be granted full access.

But it was his fingers that flipped a switch. Eddie carefully moved the tips along your jaw—gently, like he was trying to learn exactly what you felt like. And before you could register it, Eddie pulled your head to the side and latched his lips to your throat.

There was a release of a moan, the high pitch shocking you.

Because here you were, feeling a lightning strike against your neck, rumbling like chills down your back. Before you knew it, you were limp in his arms.

You were giving in.

Slowly, Eddie helped you out of your dress, trying to take his time. But you were a little more fast-paced, nearly ripping off your own underwear before reaching towards him. Mainly because he only had a jacket on, but you were also extremely close to losing your mind if you didn’t have him inside you in the next ten minutes.

“Now, why’re you going so fast?” Eddie asked, voice hushed in the silent room. His lips met yours again, leaning back just enough to look into your eyes. “Shouldn’t you give yourself some time to enjoy it?”

Dumbfounded. That’s the only way you could describe yourself. Eddie was standing in front of you, offering you the chance to experience not just sex, but pleasure.

“Can I?” you asked him, desperate to be told again.

He kissed your forehead.

“Yes.”

Eddie gently lowered you to the bed, helping you scoot up to rest your head on the pillow. He paused, peering down at you as he unhooked his choker. It was the tucking of his lip into his mouth that captivated you, beckoned you to reach up to his lips.

You couldn’t remember wanting anyone else’s mouth this much.

And amongst the kissing and the harsh breaths, Eddie had his pants off, quickly kicking them aside to focus on you. You immediately clocked how he had not worn any underwear.

Fuck.

You had no time to look down at his length, instead feeling it as he rocked his hips against your mound. With lips against skin and a fever building, you hardly formed a thought as you tried to push his hand towards your pussy.

“Eddie,” you whined. “Please.”

“Whatever you want,” he murmured. “Promise.”

His fingers danced around your entrance, the calloused tips stroking your clit as he went along. Your hips bucked, but it was nothing against his grip on you. Instinctively, you moved your face to the side, wanting to hide your face in the pillow.

“Shh, it’s alright,” he whispered, placing a small kiss to your nose. “Let yourself go.”

Before you had any time to respond, Eddie was inside you. His fingers pumped in and out, the squelching sound of your wetness filling the near silence.

Eddie wasn’t done annihilating your neck, leaving more and more marks as he went. There your sounds returned, nearly choking on your breath as you whimpered.

It went on like this for a while, Eddie taking his time to bring you to the brink of an orgasm. Once. Twice. Unable to edge you a third time when you came uncontrollably and suddenly. You’d come down only to find his fingers on your clit again, beckoning you.

“Can you do it for me again?” he asked.

Feverish nods, hushed confirmations.

Another orgasm. Another bout of emotions that were ripping through you.

When you finally came down from your third orgasm, you knew you needed more. It wasn’t a want. It was a need. Eddie hadn’t touched himself, hadn’t given in to his own pleasure. It was all you.

All you.

“Can you, um,” you tried to start, breath still heavy.

“What is it?” he asked.

With shaky fingers, you reached down between you, lightly stroking his cock. Eddie let out a hiss, arms struggling to hold him up. It was his turn to quiver.

“Ah,” he finally said, a nervous chuckle eliciting from him. “I, uh, would really like that.”

Without another word, he ran his tip over your clit, a groan leaving your lips before you came back to reality.

“Wait," you sighed, pausing. "What about you?” Gently, you pressed a hand against his chest. “Don’t you want me to, uh…”

You were too embarrassed to ask him point blank if he wanted his dick (cock? Big Ben? Woodpecker?) sucked. Because you knew that if you were to say it out loud, you would be a fumbling mess of Do you want me to suck your cockbenpecker? And then you’d have to leave and kill yourself out of sheer embarrassment.

But Eddie didn’t laugh at you. Instead, his lips found your shoulder. “No, I’m alright. Thank you for the offer, though.” He slowly trailed his tongue to the other side. “Rain check for that?”

You nodded. “Y-yeah, absolutely.”

He carefully slid in, eliciting strained moans from both of you. You watched his eyes widen; mouth agape as he looked at you. Took your silent nod as confirmation to rock into you. He didn’t go too quick, seemingly taking his time to feel you.

And as he built his momentum, you couldn’t help but find yourself becoming a a mumbling mess.

His cock was filling you, completing you. Aching as though you’d been missing each other your entire lives and you were finally colliding.

He lifted your leg over his shoulder, seemingly desperate to go deeper. You felt as he shivered, like he was unable to control himself while trying to maintain the control he already had. It drove you wild, moving with him to get him to keep going. Getting as close to him as you could to keep him vibrating above you.

It was addicting, keeping your eyes connected as you tried to give back what he was giving to you. There was a silent connection forming, one where you were desperate to make him feel the way you did. Craved the ability to make him bend at your will, a carnal desire to make him fall apart at your hands.

Eddie smiled, nearly laughing as you grabbed his ass and pushed him deeper into you. And even though you were close to cracking a smile, it was quickly taken away. He thrusted again, harder, intensifying the wave of ecstasy washing over you. You cried out, unable to hold it in anymore.

“That’s it,” he said. “You sound so pretty, you know that?”

A fourth orgasm ripped through you at his praise, cum coating his cock as he continued to rock into you. He slowed, only for a moment, just enough to help you down before he picked you right back up again. Cradled your face in one hand, his other lightly running up and down your calf. For the first time, you weren’t thrown into overstimulation.

For the first time, you experienced true pleasure from sex.

As you continued to writhe in his arms, trembling as he left you in wave after wave of euphoria, you felt something shift in your chest. You couldn’t see it then, but there was a part of you that would want him the moment he was gone. Because when he finally came, pulling out and spilling onto your stomach, you were disappointed that he hadn’t cum inside you.

It was in the way he took his time with you, treating you like a lady, praising you with each orgasm. Instead of whatever you imagined, something fast and filthy and rough, you were… Well, you were worshiped.

It was much more than whatever a one-night stand between strangers was supposed to look like. And you’d never had a one-night stand, but you were ninety-nine percent sure it was not this. Strangely, you were very, very okay with that.

When you two were officially finished, he pulled you into his chest, your head resting above his thrumming heart. And you stayed there. Without any thought of the future, without any thought of your hotel room or your manager or the flight you had to take tomorrow. No, you were somewhere else. Somewhere lovely. Somewhere safe.

“Tell me something true,” you whispered in the dark.

“What do you mean?”

“Something you probably haven’t talked about to the press or whatever. However personal you’d like to get.”

“I have two cats,” he said. “And I’m actually considering getting a third.”

“That’s really cool,” you responded. “But I’m curious.”

“Hm?”

“How do you have cats when you’re always away from home? I’ve always wanted to adopt one, but I’m scared we’ll have separation anxiety.”

“Easy. I bring them with me.”

“You do?”

“Yeah, I have special bags for them and everything. They fucking love traveling if you can believe it. Goddamn angels on airplanes.”

You couldn’t help your jealousy. It had always been a dream to have a cat. A companion, a friend to curl up next to at night. But your parents despised animals and then, well, you were suddenly never home. You wondered what it would feel like to be able to bring a piece of home with you wherever you went.

“What about you?’

You peered up at him. “Me?”

“Yeah, you,” he said with a smile. “Tell me something true.”

“It’s so stereotypical, but…” You took a deep breath, contemplating if it was okay to be so vulnerable so soon after meeting him. “I get really sad when people talk about my body.” You watched his eyebrows furrow. “I like myself, but it’s hard to be, like, not skinny and still be the artist I am as if my body determines whether I’m good enough at my job.

“Sometimes I wish I could just be a person who happens to have this body and that was that. I’m healthy…what more do people want out of me?”

Eddie’s arms tightened around your waist, fingers brushing against your tummy. “People are fucked up. Genuinely.”

“I agree. It’s like… Either I’m too big for someone to love me but my reputation is that I’m fucking everyone within a ten mile radius at any given time. Like a fucking fuck radar.” Eddie laughed. “Like which is it? ‘Cause I clearly can’t be both and I can’t be neither.”

“You know what I say to that?” he asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Hm?”

He raised his fist. “Fuck ‘em.”

You gave him a fist bump, nodding. “Yeah, fuck ‘em.”

“Also, if I may add, you’re fucking beautiful.” You shook your head. “No, I’m serious. I saw you walk up to accept your award tonight, which you totally had in the bag by the way, and I couldn’t help but think, ‘Wow, she’s more stunning in person.’ And I was at one of the tables in the back.”

“You really thought that?”

“Please, I think Jeff was getting annoyed at how much I was staring. Said Radiohead wrote ‘Creep’ about me.”

A laugh fell from your lips but you still shook your head.

“I genuinely like you for you,” he whispered, lightly lifting your chin up. “It’s something true.”

“I think…I believe you.”

“Please do.”

But when you finally fell asleep, you were thrown into something ferocious. The sky turned black, with crows and ravens circling the trees. You ran along a path, trying desperately to find shelter. In the distance, you saw Eddie, walking with some other girl. One arm behind his back, his other hand holding hers. Just like he did with you.

And then it occurred to you: Now that you’d gotten a taste of Eddie Munson, you didn’t want to share.

It was supposed to be a random hookup. Just a fleeting glance at the unusual mixture of metal and pop, leather and lace. But when you woke up to the sound of your alarm, having to get on a plane as soon as possible to do promo in Chicago, you decided to wake him up.

“Hey,” you said. “Wake up, sleepy.”

He opened his eyes slightly, taking in your already dressed appearance. “Where are you going?”

Sitting on the edge of the bed, you shrugged. “Chicago. I have a podcast to go on to talk about the Grammys and bullshit about having anything written for the next album and do promo and all that.” You looked down at the white duvet, all wrinkly from the long night (with a hint of his smeared eye shadow.) “I just wanted to thank you for last night and tell you that I had fun.”

“Yeah?” You nodded. “I did, too.”

For a moment, you were quiet. Watching as he bit his lip, noticing how you were chewing on yours. Wondered what to say. What to think. How to end an interaction you really didn’t want to end.

“Favorite Beatles song this morning?” he asked.

You tried not to smile, but you couldn’t help it as you looked up at his cheeky expression.

“‘I’ve Just Seen A Face’.”

“Help!” he nearly shouted in a fake scared voice, clasping onto his face.

Rolling your eyes at his antics, you said, “If I didn’t know better, you know every album they’ve ever done.”

“Maybe I’ll tell you the answer next time I see you.”

You chuckled, telling yourself that this was just something people say. Next time this. Next time that. And there’s no follow up. Just a glance here and there at events. No one calls. No one cares.

You tried to get up, but Eddie gently grabbed your hand, rubbing his fingers along your knuckles. “Actually, in all seriousness…I wouldn’t mind seeing you again sometime.”

“Do you really mean that?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Without a word, you disconnected your hand from his and started towards the door. Started towards what was ultimately going to be a long day with endless naps and replacing the water in your body with coffee.

And as you placed your hand on the cold doorknob, Eddie said his last words.

“I’m going to miss you.”

You glanced over at him, your armor starting to come loose.

But it tightened as soon as the weakness was identified. Because there was no way to make any promises, no way to guarantee anything more than what this moment in time had provided.

“I’ll see you soon, Eddie. I’ll make sure of it.”

After that, you couldn’t stop thinking about him. The way he was just so honest. Upfront. Wanting you close.

He told you he was going to miss you. He told you that he liked you for the person you were, not the person that everyone expected you to be. And he was the same, his reputation being nothing more than a façade for the lovely human being underneath.

The rest of that day, that week, you could only think of him.

Shouldn’t you give yourself some time to enjoy it? his voice echoed.

It’s alright.

Just let go.

Early October, 2024

His makeup smeared down his face as he held your eyes. You’d never seen him so soft, so gentle. Full of emotions reserved just for you. Desperate for the one thing he ever wanted.

You.

And in that moment, it all froze mid-air. The laughter and gasps of the crowd. The sound of the photographers shouting his name, shouting yours. The videos and the comments that felt like sticks and stones. Ronnie’s hurling words that felt like daggers.

It dissipates as you remember the start, as you remember why you were there in the first place. Why it mattered.

“Okay,” you murmured.

Eddie's eyes widened.

“I’ll stay.”

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson x you #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson angst #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #Eddie Munson x female reader #boyfriend!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie x you #rockstar!Eddie x popstar!reader

54 notes · View notes

ynscrazylife · 1 year

Text

Us against the World

Summary: It’s one of those days where everything feels utterly hopeless. Joel reminds you that you’re not alone.

Disclaimer: Set post-outbreak, before the show starts.

Warnings: Talk of depression, hopelessness, reference to suicidal talk but not explicit

Request to be on a taglist (or multiple) here! (Taglists are at the end of the fic)

Main Masterlist

PSA: Do NOT copy, steal, translate, plagiarize, republish, etc any of my works on Tumblr or any other platform. Also, do NOT claim any of my works as your own. All of these works are either requests I’ve gotten that people have wanted me to write or original ideas I’ve had for works. If you happen to take inspiration from anything I’ve written and want to write something inspired by that, please a) ask me first and b) IF I say yes, credit me as inspo in your post by tagging me and link whatever work of mine that inspired you. Thanks.

Safe-house. Safe-house. Safe-house.

You repeat those words like a chant, a mantra, in your head as you keep on forcing your feet along the dirt and pebble-filled path. A couple days ago, you and Joe had found a miraculously abandoned building that seemed like it used to be a Firefly safe-house. There wasn’t any electricity, but there was some water and heat. You had gone on a simple supply run only to be ambushed by FEDRA officers. Now — you were going home.

You weren’t foolish enough to think of the safe-house as home. No — you and Joel would be moving on in a few days, probably. So when you said home, you meant him. The love of your life. Your reason for living: Joel Miller himself.

You manage to smile at the thought of him and that allows you to go a little faster. When you finally look up to see the rusted door, you nearly collapse in relief right then and there.

Stumbling against the door, you have just enough strength to do the rhythmic knock that you had decided upon with Joel as your signal. Then, you simply rest, limp until he opens the door and you quite literally fall into his arms.

“Oh, shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Joel mutters as he quickly reacts and tries to catch you. You can hardly support your own weight at this point and can only flail in his arms. Your legs fail you as Joel’s arms wrap around your torso — him having to essentially drag you inside until he can set you down on the wood floor as gently as possible. His heart is pounding with alarm and concern, but he tries not to let that overwhelm him. First and foremost, you have to be stable.

“Stay here,” he grunts, wasting no time in stepping over you to close the door and lock it. Once he is sure it’s secure, he turns back around, only to see you curled up on your side.

“Y/N!” He yells, dropping to his knees and pulling you close. His eyes scan you over for injuries and he doesn’t like what he finds: multiple bruises and open wounds. Your knee is bent in a way it definitely shouldn’t be and the most concerning wound is a gash reaching from your stomach all the way to your hip.

He scoops you up in his arms, trying not to worry even more at your limp-ness and the way your head just rolls against him like a rag doll. He carries you to the tattered couch and sets you down, leaving for a second to grab the med-kit which thankfully wasn’t far. It was by no means enough, but he’ll make it work. He always does.

“What the hell happened?” Joel grumbles, anger seeping through his tone — but not at you, never at you, just at this goddamned world. It would never stop finding ways to hurt the two of you, would it? He makes quick work of assessing the med kit but when you don’t answer, a glance your way made him feel like he’ll explode.

You’re barely conscious. The only indication of it is that your eyes aren’t fully closed, but not fully open either. He can still see how dazed you were, staring off into space and showing no sign that you had heard, much less understood, him.

Don’t push it, he tells himself. It takes all his will to follow his own words. He gets to work, first cleaning up the big gash. But you quickly begin to flinch and whine at how it stung and hearing that, seeing it, brings out a softer side to him that he only shows to the people that he cherishes.

“Shh, honey, shh,” he soothes. trying to continue to work but he soon realizes that it isn’t working when you begin kicking, and then cry out when it aggravates the pain in your knee. Joel sighs, the guilt raining inside him. “Baby, please.”

He knows he’ll have to hold you down somehow if you don’t stop soon. In his head, he’s willing for you to break through the pain and exhaustion that’s clouding your judgement and realize that he needs to do this. But you don’t, and honestly, he can’t blame you. He can’t imagine what happened — he doesn’t really want to. And if he can’t stomach it, how are you doing it?

You twist and turn — nearly hitting Joel. He has to almost manhandle you, pulling your legs into his lap and being mindful of your knee as he pins down your legs with one of his own over yours. You squirm. but don’t seem to have the energy to fight him. He gently keeps you against the couch with his right arm and with his left, is able to clean the wound. Then, he stitches it and finally bandages it up. When that’s finished, he turns his attention to your knee and mutters curses.

It’s definitely dislocated, which means he’ll need to set it. Taking a second to look at your face, already scrunched up as if some part of you knows what’s about to happen, he whispers, “I’m so sorry, sweetheart.” He gently pressed his hands to your knee and quickly sets it.

You quickly shoot up with a strangled yelp, tears springing to your eyes. Joel moves to sit down on the couch and pulls you into his lap, holding you and allowing you to cry and let it all out. You don’t cry often, so he knows that something’s really wrong, and it almost makes him cry but he closes his eyes and peppers you with kisses.

It takes a while, but eventually you calm down enough to be able to talk. “Joel, I can’t—I can’t—” you pause, struggling to breathe for a second. You sniffle and Joel waits patiently for you to swallow and continue. “I’m so tired of this.”

Unfortunately, Joel knows exactly what you’re talking about. The two of you have had moments like this before, you’ve had conversations about it — the moments of depression, where it all feels hopeless and pointless and you start wondering what you’re even doing. But it’s never gotten as bad or as overwhelming like this, not when one of you is injured. Joel doesn’t know what happened, but he can tell that it was all too much.

You press your head against Joel’s chest, tired. It takes a few more minutes for you to begin telling your tale. “It was those stupid FEDRA officers,” you say, venom lacing your words. Joel bites his lip — that’s what he suspected when he saw your injuries. They weren’t made by any of the infected and you didn’t usually get into fights. “They started to question me, thought I was stealing. I didn’t get the supplies, I’m so sorry.”

A fresh round of tears spill. You hide your face in Joel’s shirt. “I’m sorry,” you whimper, shaking. Joel holds you closer, pressing a kiss to your head and resting his chin on your head after.

“It’s not your fault,” he assures you. He doesn’t say he’s not mad, because that would be a lie. Once again — not mad at you. He’s mad at FEDRA, at the entire goddamned world.

You quiet down and continue. “They roughed me up real good. Even tased me. The only reason I got away is cause a couple of the infected came out of nowhere. One tackled me to the ground, FEDRA shot ‘em and I ran away while they handled the other ones. I made it all the way here but when I woke up . . . It’s all getting to be too much. It’s so much. I’m so tired of this. All the running, the hiding, the crappy food and the crappy water and the constant fear.” You begin sniffling and Joel wipes your tears, nodding.

He doesn’t say anything for a bit. At first, he doesn’t have anything to say because you’re right. It’s not fair. You shouldn’t have to live like this. No one should. And you both know it won’t stop anytime soon — it might not ever stop.

He wants to have the right words to say, but he’s just not that kind of guy. For you, though, he’ll try. He hates subjecting you to silence, but as his mind conjures up words, he tries to believe that they’re not sappy or poetry. “It’s us against the world, sweetheart,” is what he finally lands on. “And I know sometimes it doesn’t feel worth it, but I refuse to give up if I still have you. I’ll do this every day until I die just to see you smile, just to hold you and kiss you, just to hug you. You’re what keeps me going. You’re worth it.”

You take some shaky breaths, leaning into him. “You know the same goes for you, babe. It’s just—it’s so hard sometimes . . .” You trail off.

He nods. He knows. “I can’t believe I’m the one saying this — but you gotta have some hope. That we’ll survive and we’ll be happy and the Fireflies will kick FEDRA’s ass and someday, we’ll start to rebuild things. We’ll be apart of history. There will be a future,” he says.

You sigh. It’s a long sigh. “You know as well as I do that there’s a pretty good chance that stuff will never happen,” you point out, tone dull. Any other day, you’d be the one telling Joel all the things he’s telling you but it’s too much right now.

That breaks Joel’s heart. It’s like the two of you have completely switched roles. He’s not good at expressing it, but he needs you. He loves you.

“I love you.”

“I know,” you say softly.

“No, I don’t think you do. I love you. So much. More than anything in the world. I know you know but you gotta really know, let your brain fully get it. I love you.”

You blink, truly thinking about it. Remembering your times with him. How he makes you smile and laugh and forget about all the chaos around. It’s enough to give you a little hope. His love is enough. To convince you that you guys can do this. And you can be happy, too. Together.

“And we’ve known that things are shit for years now and you haven’t stopped. Even before you had me and I had you, you did it. You survived. So you’re not gonna stop now. I know you’re not saying fuck it all or anything, I know you need to get it out — so do it, cry. I’ll hold you. But I want you to know that I’m not giving up on you. I’m not giving up on anything while I have you,” Joel continues, letting his heart pour out for once.

You sit up and twist around in his arms, heart thumping wildly in your chest. “You’re not just saying this to make me feel better?” You asked, hoping and praying that that wasn’t the case.

He stares into your eyes, cupping your face in his hands. “No, darling. I really fucking love you and you know what, now’s as good as time as any to remind you of that,” he said. He has trouble saying it as often as he wants to, but he’s saying it now. He’ll say it everyday.

A grin breaks out on your face. He’s right — it doesn’t make everything better. But it’s a start. And it definitely made you listen. His words seep into your skin, start to heal your invisible wounds. He’s right. He’s got you and you’ve got him. It’s the two of you against the world, and that’s enough. “I really fucking love you, too,” you say, and with that you’re leaning in to kiss him.

The kiss is sweet and calm, but the passion is there. When you pull apart, you’re leaning into his chest, your eyes starting to droop. Joel looks down at you and laughs. “You’re really cute, honey, you know that?” He teases.

“Stop,” you whine, lightly hitting his chest which only makes him laugh more. You and he are well aware of how much he loves to tease you and see you blush, which he is convinced is adorable.

“Aww, that’s too much for you?” He teases even more. He can’t help it.

You groan and shut your eyes, which makes him shift you a little bit. “C’mon, let’s go take a shower,” Joel says, swinging his legs down.

You groan again. “I can’t even stand, J,” you remind him with a small huff annoyance that yes, Joel finds so cute (sometimes he starts small arguments just to see you get a little frustrated).

“I’ll help you,” he says. Before you can answer, he’s lifting you up with the gentlest touch he’s used in decades. You let him, because you know you need it. He tucks your legs around his waist and your arms loop around his neck.

Joel carries you to the bathroom and sets you down on the counter. He turns on the shower, getting it to the best temperature he can before helping you out of your clothes and changing into just a pair of shorts himself. Joel picks you up again, helping you into the shower. You let out a breath as the warm water hits you, Joel allowing you to lean against him and get the weight off your leg that has the dislocated knee.

After simply standing in the water for a few minutes and holding each other, Joel props you up against the wall. He grabs some soap but you let out a whine. “I can do it myself,” you mumble, reaching out your arm limply for the soap.

Joel can’t help but let out a small chuckle. You’re half asleep as it is and he honestly thinks that it’s adorable that you’re still trying to be independent. “Let me help you. I want to,” he says.

You pout at him, but ultimately give in with a nod. You have to admit, you like when he takes care of you, and you have a feeling he knows that, too. Joel helps you wash yourself and then washes your hair for you. At the feeling of his fingers in your hair, that nearly sent you to sleep. By the time he was done, you were leaning heavily against him, Joel supporting your weight.

He sets you down on the floor of the shower while he steps away to turn off the water. Then, he ties a towel around himself before grabbing one and wrapping it around you. As he helps you stand up, you can’t help but wonder what life would be like with Joel before the outbreak. What life would be like while things are normal. Perhaps this was a little glimpse into that alternate world. A peek.

Joel’s arm is wrapped around you as he leads you into the bedroom, helping you into bed. You roll over, intent on just falling asleep, but Joel returns a moment later. You must’ve dozed off for a bit, because now he’s dressed and holding out some clothes for you. You go to whine at not being allowed to sleep yet, but stop when you spot that Joel brought you his clothes. He wears a knowing smirk when you shut your mouth.

Joel helps you put the clothes on and then climbs into bed beside you. He pulls you close to him and you smile, liking that he’s initiating it. The bed isn’t too comfortable but it’s okay, because you’d rather be in his arms. You’re not quite sure when you fall asleep but when Joel sees that you have, his smile just grows bigger. He kisses your forehead and runs his fingers through your hair, watching over you until he falls asleep, too.

And just like that, things feel like they’re getting a little better.

427 notes · View notes

bluecatarts · 23 days

Text

I hope this post will not cause any negativity…

Since I signed up here, I've been wanting to draw characters in the Idolverse setting. I'm not much of a designer, but considering that Black and Volt are essentially beginners, you can write it off.

Personally, I see that these two decided, filled with enthusiasm and inspiration from other artists, to try themselves in the musical field. Voltage plays electric guitar, but sometimes sings on backing vocals. Black, in turn, is just a vocalist. They would perform alternative rock songs.

Due to the small amount of experience, they would have been little known to anyone, but they tried to grab any opportunity to speak and show themselves.It is in this that Dark would help them, in the role of a kind of producer.

But Kyle would have stayed away from all these topics and would have been a kind of "hater" of idols. He loves music, but the fact that most artists do it for a living annoys him. Because of this opinion, Kyle and Black often have conflicts that Volt and Dark have to solve.Although he himself is not averse to playing an acoustic guitar in silence.

Something like that. It was important for me to make this post. I hope someone likes this topic. Thanks for your attention

Idolverse belongs to @zucchiyeni

Black, Dark, Voltage and Kyle belongs to me and my friends

#idolverse #idolau✨#undertale #art #au #sketch #undertale fanart #sans #sans au #black sans #armageddontale #kyle #dark sans #darktale #volt sans #undertale au #utmv #undervoltage

22 notes · View notes

coconutcordiale · 2 years

Note

Congrats on the 500 followers, m’dear!!!

For the drabble request bingo, am I going to be totally predictable and ask for “please daddy?” with Jake? I think I am.

here's the thing

pairing- hangman x female!reader (no y/n)

warnings- 18+ minors & glen you know the drill DNI, sexual content (daddy kink, public teasing / fingering), jake's perspective, man's always horny it’s cruel to leave the hotel room with him on vacation, my ridiculous habit of writing ending lines that make it seem like there's another scene coming

length- 1.2k because i apparently don't know what a drabble is and hangman’s so hot he deserves more words anyways

an- thank you so much lovely!!!! the fact that i basically sprinted to write this as soon as i saw your ask because i am also predictable 🤝 (great minds) sorry i got kind of carried away but your sugar daddy jake fic look away (everyone go read!) gave me lots of hangman + swimsuits + vacation + public indecency thots

also hangman's utter inability to keep his shit together when called daddy casually is inspired by this post from @sebsxphia

Here’s the thing.

Jake is starting to think you don't fully understand the effect you have on him. That you honestly don't know what you look like every time his gaze inevitably slides over to you, reclining blissfully in a padded lounge chair, nose buried in a book. That you don't realize how many times he's had to adjust his swim trunks or go jump in the ocean because you look like absolute sin laid out next to him, soft skin on display and begging to be touched.

“Jake, do you mind getting me another drink?" You ask, turning onto your stomach and reaching back to release the neat little bow holding your swimsuit top together.

He can’t help it when a groan rumbles out of him at the clear indication you have no intention to leave anytime soon. Can't help the way his eyes flicker around the quiet beach, trying to calculate the likelihood of someone calling the cops on him for taking you right then and there.

“Honey, I just sat down, why didn’t you ask earlier when I went to the bar?” He thinks he might sound like a whiny child, but he doesn’t care much at this point. He's frustrated, because his hands are constantly flexing with the need to touch you. Because every hint to go back upstairs to your hotel room has been met with a breezy, okay babe I'll meet you up there later, want to finish this chapter.

A blonde eyebrow raises as he watches you smile guiltlessly. “I forgot, I’m sorry. Besides, you seem a little bored over there."

He shoots you a withering glare, but he's pretty sure the scornful effect is greatly diminished by the fact that his eyes can’t stop roaming over your bare back.

Obviously he’s going to get the drink for you. He just likes seeing you sweat a little bit. Serves you right, since you've been torturing him for hours down here.

(It's been 45 minutes)

You sigh and Jake can see the gears turning in your head. Your fingers wiggle around your book, like they're getting ready to reach behind and retie your bikini so you can get up to grab it yourself. He's about to laugh, about to say just kidding, of course I'll go get it for you, when you bite your lip.

The hair on his arms raises in anticipation, knowing what's coming from your mouth next is surely going to fuck with him.

“Please, daddy?”

Jake stills.

You think it’s cute, that you’re being sassy, just teasing him a little.

That’s the thing.

Sometimes, Jake thinks you don't realize how little effort it takes to have him aching for you. You don’t see that watching your pretty lips form those words sends electricity thrumming through his veins. That it makes him vibrate with the need to hold you down until that's the only word you're capable of forming.

His tongue flits out to wet his lips, eyes never leaving you. Takes a steadying breath.

"Sure, honey. I'll be right back."

When he returns with your Mai Tai he swears your bikini is riding a little higher, cheeky bottoms giving him a perfect view of your backside. He's practically salivating with the urge to lean down and put his mouth on you.

"Thanks, daddy." You're full-on smirking now, dropping any pretense of not taunting him.

Jake exhales audibly as a lightning bolt zaps through him. The hold he has on his phone tightens once with a fleeting thought about trying not to break the stupid thing, before he forces himself to let go and toss it onto your beach bag.

He reaches over to you, rubbing your shoulder affectionately, runs his large hand down your side. Your hardcover drops to the chair with an unceremonious thump when the pad of his thumb brushes right against the side of your breast, exposed by your untied top.

You eye him mock suspiciously, taking a dainty sip of your cocktail. "Jakey, whatcha doing?"

"Oh it's Jakey now, is it, princess?" He tuts, gaze focused on the shapes he's tracing on your skin. "No more daddy now that you've gotten what you wanted?"

He skims his hand across the edge of your bikini bottoms, dancing dangerously close to where he suspects you're already soaked for him.

"Daddy," you whisper, sunglasses sliding down your nose as you dip your head, giving him full view of your blown pupils.

“Wanna stop me, princess?” He asks, trailing fingers down your hot skin, playing with the ties holding your bottoms together. “Or are you gonna let daddy play with his pretty pussy right here, where anyone could see?”

There's no one within his eyesight, but he doesn't mention that part.

You bury your head in your arms, seemingly embarrassed, but Jake doesn’t miss the tilt of your hips, the subtle arch of your back, pushing your ass ever so slightly into his waiting hand.

"That's what I thought," he quips, trademark Hangman confidence dripping from every word.

With one last glance around and a squeeze to your cheek, he slips his fingers under, groaning quietly at the wetness he knew would be there. He pushes a finger in, quick and dirty, because there might not be anyone around right now, but you both know that could change at any second.

The breathy little whimper that escapes as you squirm around his finger is music to his ears. His cock throbs painfully in his swimsuit in response and he shakes his head to clear it, forcing himself not to get sidetracked. But the dirty look you send him when he pulls his finger out, using your arousal slicked on his finger to help stroke figure eights on your clit, is even better. He knows you can come like this, but a part of you will be disappointed having to come clenching around nothing.

Perfect, he muses, because the sooner you're begging for daddy's cock to fill you, the better.

He switches his onslaught on your center to pressing strong, decisive circles, your hips rutting against his hand that's trapped between you and the chair. It's one of the hottest things he's ever witnessed, you taking what you need, hips moving unprompted and a little wild as you get closer and closer to the edge.

Jake grins as your legs tense, watching your climax roll through you. You bite your arm to muffle your whimpers, ice cubes rattling in your cup as you shake, riding out the high.

He has to stifle a groan of his own when he raises his hand to his mouth to clean his fingers, the taste of you going straight to his aching cock.

Smiling happily at him, you look almost grateful, like you might thank him for making you come in broad daylight with waves crashing in the background. Like it wouldn’t occur to you that it should be the other way around, him worshipping at your feet for letting him run away with his dirty thoughts on a chaise lounge by the ocean.

That's the thing.

Jake knows you don't realize how much power you hold over him, how effortlessly you have him wrapped around your finger. You'll figure it out someday, but for right now he'll keep that secret to himself.

At the moment, he has much more pressing matters, like getting you alone so he can listen to your pretty voice moan please, daddy over and over again.

"Finish your drink, princess. We're going upstairs."

#hangman x reader #hangman x you #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin #hangman top gun #hangman drabble #jake seresin drabble #hangman smut #jake seresin smut #jake seresin fanfiction #hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin imagine #hangman imagine #top gun hangman #500 followers celly

751 notes · View notes

jksprincess10 · 1 year

Note

Hi! I hope you’re having a great day!

I would like to request you joel x fem.

Something fluff, like bathtub scenes, cuddling, sharing hobbies. I don’t know if you’re confortable in writing age gaps, if you’re not it’s totally fine! She would be in her 20s and Joel in his 50s.

He is totally obsessed with her name (I would suggest Chiara) but if you don’t like using names it’s fine. She has italian origins and he is totally fond of her and her history/past. She speaks a few languages and loves Joel with her whole heart, she would do anything for him. Would you mind adding a bit of drama too that then solves itself. Joel is really funny and would always make fun of her in a loving way. And maybe add a deep loving quote from Joel to her? I would like post outbreak but do whatever resonates!! Thank you and enjoy your day :)

Hiii ! This is a little drabble inspired by your idea. Your request totally deserves a full fic, that I can't provide hahah ! But I do hope you're satisfied with the outcome :). Thank you for your patience.

CW: age gap, fluff, a little angst, a bit out of character ! joel.

“Would you have liked to see what your parents’ country looked like before the outbreak?”

“Yes… Well, I’ve seen old, printed photos of Italia and found some magazines.”

You and Joel were sharing a well-deserved bath in Bill and Frank’s home. They were gone for a few days and let you stay over so you could enjoy the luxuries of electricity and running water.

Your back was against Joel’s chest, while he was holding you.

“Sometimes I like to imagine us going on a trip, but without all of this… craziness.” You closed your eyes, letting your dreams taking over you.

“Too bad you were barely born before the outbreak.” Joel smiled.

It was crazy to think that he had this whole life before you. It’s like Joel had two identities, the loving dad before the outbreak, the broken man after the virus took everything away from him.

You slapped his knee as he reminded you of his age.

“Stop patronizing me.”

“M’not, bella.”

You sighed and got out of the bath to dry yourself, not looking at Joel. You heard the soft waves of the water as he was coming out of the bathtub, before you felt his wet chest pressing against your back. He leaned down and left a kiss on your shoulder.

“Look, mio amato (my love)… can we not talk about our age for a second?” You said in a broken voice.

He frowned and looked at your eyes through the mirror.

“Why are you so upset?”

“Because I wish I could’ve shared that past life with you.”

Your bottom lip was trembling as tears ran down your clean face. You turned around to look at Joel, as he embraced you.

“I’m scared we don’t have much left.” You added.

He looked at the floor. It was true, he was getting older, approaching 60. He wasn’t as fit anymore, he couldn’t run as much, he couldn’t protect you.

“I’ll be with you as long as I can, bella. I promise. If not in this life, in another one.”

You nodded and hid your face in the crook of his neck, as he was rocking you slowly to comfort you.

#writing requests #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #joel miller x yn #joel miller x y/n

126 notes · View notes

mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess · 1 year

Text

Dancing through the night

@incorrectly-quoting-mxtx here is the ficlet that resulted from your prompt marinating in my brain for the past two days. Thank you for the wait and the sweet words, I hope you like this!

If any of you have any ideas you'd like me to write, feel free to mention me in a post and I may write it if the inspiration gods bless me!

---

"Is there anything you can't do to perfection?" Wei Wuxian begins, a fond look in his eyes and a teasing smile on his lips as he and his husband walk into their inn suite. "I don't think there's anything you don't excel at!"

Lan Wangji's eyes color a light pink at that as he sits at the table, a pot of wine awaiting, courtesy of the innkeeper.

Though he is used to hearing such words left and right, praise an appanage of his reputation, his heart always stutters whenever Wei Wuxian sets on a tirade about how great his Hanguang-Jun is. The words flow so easily out of him, like he's laying out obvious facts that anybody would see, poorly pretending to be unaware of the effect he has on Lan Wangji. It hasn't been a rare occurence for the man to have to shut Wei Wuxian up with kisses - otherwise he would have gone on for hours, waxing poetic about his husband's everything.

However, tonight is going to go different.

"There is something." Lan Wangji responds, pouring a cup of wine for Wei Wuxian, who gratefully downs it before taking his seat on Lan Wangji's lap, arms coming to circle his neck loosely. The closeness is both comforting and electric, eyes locked lovingly.

"What could there be that the great, unparalleled Hanguang-Jun hasn't mastered yet?" Wei Wuxian asks, letting one of his hands cup Lan Wangji's face, thumb stroking his cheek.

"Dancing."

"Oh?" Wei Wuxian feigns shock, "We cannot let such a simple skill evade someone as amazing as you, can we?"

Lan Wangji lets his hands caress over Wei Ying's thighs, parting robes. "Hm? What do you suggest?"

"Fortunately for you, I am an amazing dancer, and I can teach you!"

Before Lan Wangji can protest, Wei Wuxian pulls him up to his feet, and he has to catch himself out of the saccharine sweetness of having been held and holding his beloved before he falls flat on his face.

"We need music." Lan Wangji attempts a protest, though his hands come to rest around Wei Wuxian's slim waist nevertheless.

Wei Wuxian smiles, winding his arms around Lan Wangji again and begins humming a familiar tune, his voice melodious around the unspoken lyrics. He urges Lan Wangji to move, steps slow and close together, a simple sequence of moving together into an imaginary circle.

Lan Wangji's brows furrow in concentration, and Wei Wuxian finds the sight adorable enough to let a small giggle escape him before he leans to leave a butterfly kiss on the tip of his husband's nose. He stops humming to do it, and Lan Wangji stills, embarrassed.

"Wei Ying. The music."

"You know it too."

Lan Wangji wraps an arm around Wei Wuxian's waist, firmer, and fills up the tiny space between them. He picks up the song where Wei Ying left off, and tries to mirror the movements Wei Wuxian just showed him.

He thinks of the way he composed that song, how easily it had come to him and how difficult it had been for him to understand what he was feeling for this annoying, rule-breaking, intelligent, beautiful man that's now his companion for life.

He thinks of how he hummed this song thinking of him, when he was missing, when he wasn't himself, when he died.

He thinks of how he'd sang it as lullaby for A-Yuan.

He thinks of how it had been the first song Wei Ying played when he returned.

They move in tandem to their song, little circles around the wide room, and some time between gazing at his beloved like he hung the moon and the stars in the sky, and delighting in how easily he picked up those simple movements, Wei Wuxian joins in the duet.

They hum and dance like that for a while, unhurried, enjoying one another and the memories they had with their song, adding yet another one to cherish with Wangxian as a background melody.

One day, perhaps, they'd write a sequel.

#mdzs #mo dao zu shi #wangxian #writing attempts

66 notes · View notes

gotham-ruaidh · 1 year

Text

Little Bit Better Than I Used To Be

Catch up: Chapter 1 (Starry Eyes) || Chapter 2 (Save Our Souls) || Chapter 3 (Dancing On Glass)|| Chapter 4 (Merry-Go-Round)|| Backstage (1) || Backstage (2) || Chapter 5 (Danger)|| Backstage (3) || Chapter 6A (Love Walked In) || Chapter 6B (Without You) || Backstage (4) || Chapter 7 (Stick To Your Guns) || Chapter 8 (Time For Change) || Backstage (5) || Chapter 9 (Take Me To The Top) || Backstage (6) || Chapter 10 (Home Sweet Home) || Backstage (7) || Chapter 11a (Nightrain) || Chapter 11b (Nothing Else Matters) || Chapter 12a (Handle With Care) || Chapter 12b (I'm So Tired of Being Lonely) || Chapter 13a (Angel) ||| Also posted at AO3

Chapter 13B: She's My Addiction

Soundtrack: “She’s My Addiction,” Fozzy, 2012 [click here to listen]

“Thanks again for doing this, man. That was a killer set.”

Jamie popped open a Coke bottle, took a long swig, and set it back on the card table that a roadie had hastily set up. “Colum said you’re a fan. Is that true?”

Geordie Ash had been nothing but professional since Colum brought him backstage as soon as the gig finished. Jamie had introduced him to the other 2 members of Print – Ian Murray (bass, Jamie’s childhood friend and brother-in-law) and Angus Mhor (drums) – and Claire, of course. Then Ian had walked away to call his wife (and Jamie’s sister) Jenny and talk to the kids before they went to bed, and Angus had drifted away with the two giggling groupies who had diligently followed the band on every stop of this acoustic tour (nice girls who had absolutely nothing going on in their heads).

And Colum had led Jamie, Claire, and Geordie to Jamie’s dressing room. On the short walk there, Jamie’s guitar tech pressed the now-customary post-show apple and bottle of Coke (the drink, not the drug) into his hands, and Claire whispered a short, private message to Geordie – a stranger who could reward or ruin their lives.

“I’m definitely a fan.” Geordie settled in his (uncomfortable) seat, drumming his fingers on the table. No notebook, pen, or recording device – as Colum had promised. “Went to a couple shows on your tour in ’86, too. You’ve got a sound like nobody else. I won’t lie, when people found out you were in rehab there was real concern that that was the end of the band. Clearly that’s wrong.”

Jamie took a bite from his apple, and wiped the last sweat from his forehead with the towel that always waited for him backstage. “Colum says you two go way back.”

Geordie smiled. “I cut my teeth as a reporter for Creem in the late 60s and early 70s. Got paid next to nothing to travel around the country, writing about the bands I idolized. I remember Colum as this crazy little shit who was a foot shorter than Jimmy Page and Robert Plant, but he could haul wires and amps better than anybody else on that crew.” He paused, sipping a cup of coffee. “But he got me time with those guys on the Starship. And at the Riot House. Robert Plant proclaiming to the world that he was a golden god? That was me. So Colum really helped me get to the next level. Even though he stole the girl I’d had my eye on all summer.”

There were parallels that Geordie could draw to Jamie – but neither man said anything.

“Anyway, the new stuff is really, really good. Have you played it electric yet?”

Jamie paused. “No, not yet. The guys and I, we hadn’t even been in the same room together until six weeks ago. I played for them all the stuff I’d written in rehab, the way I’d written it. On the acoustic guitar. And that inspired Ian to write a few songs of his own, and all of a sudden we’ve got an album’s worth of material. And we’d just taken on Colum as our manager, so I said, let’s do it. Let’s get back on the road.”

“Would you consider doing an all-acoustic record for your next album? That could be really interesting.”

Jamie spun the bottle cap on the table. “It’s a good question. To be honest, I hadn’t considered it. It’s certainly a slower pace, this acoustic thing. But I miss my Strat. I miss Ian’s Rickenbacker bass. And Angus is being a really good sport with the acoustic stuff, but he’s just dying to hit the shit out of his drums.”

Claire still knew next to nothing about the music industry – or the lives of professional musicians. Aside from the past few weeks, she’d never seen Jamie at work, either. But she could tell when he was really engaged in conversation with someone. And this Geordie guy seemed to be the real deal.

“I get that. Do you miss playing the older stuff on this tour?”

“Yeah. But I really needed the time away from all those songs. It reminds me of…some not so good times. Getting sober was hard, and staying sober is so much fucking harder. This acoustic tour has been a good way to ease back into everything before it all starts again.”

“When you play the songs you wrote in rehab, do you think about being in that place?”

Jamie looked over Geordie’s shoulder, at Claire perched in her chair.

“Sometimes. Mostly I think about where my head and heart were at. Not just in getting clean, and learning new habits. But also about Claire, and how fucking terrifying it was to be falling for her. I told her that I’m the last thing she needed in her life. I still feel that way.”

“What does it mean to have her with you on this tour?”

“Everything.”

Claire’s eyes shone.

“It means fucking everything to me.” Jamie looked straight at Geordie. “I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for her. She’s the reason I wake up, and try my best to live a good life. She chooses to be here. I appreciate her, and I sure as hell don’t take it for granted that she’s here.”

Geordie unfolded a piece of paper from his pocket and set it on the table. “Like I said, I’ve been a fan of yours for years. I’ve been to two other shows on this tour. And I’ve written down the chorus and bridge from ‘She’s My Addiction’ because I’ve been wanting to ask you about it. May I?”

Jamie nodded, clearly surprised.

Geordie began to read:

She’s my addiction // No rehab can break this chain She's my addiction // Her poison shoots right through my vein She's my addiction // A one way ticket back again She's my addiction // This damn woman's drivin' me insane

“It’s catchy as fuck, Jamie. I guarantee it’ll be a big hit. But you know that everybody – and I mean everybody – is gonna ask you more questionsabout who this woman is, than they’ll ever ask you about all the sordid details on the kinds of drugs you went to rehab for. You get me?”

Jamie nodded. “I get it. Claire and I have talked about it. We’re ready for it. Besides, everything I wrote is true. She is my addiction now. Being with her is better than any drug I ever took, better than any alcohol I ever drank. And you know what the best part is, man? I want it. And she wants me. Fucking magical.”

Geordie nonchalantly re-folded the paper and slipped it back into his pocket. “Are you saying that it’s a long-term thing between you two?”

“Forever, if she’ll have me.”

Claire snorted audibly.

“Would you believe it if I told you she didn’t know who I was, when we met at The Ridge? Do you know how awesome that is?”

Geordie smiled. “It’s not that much of a surprise. But after you record this new stuff, and it hits the radio – I guarantee that there will be even fewer people in the world who don’t know your face and voice. Or your story.”

Jamie took one last bite from his apple. “That’s OK. I want to enjoy every damn minute of it. I look forward to it. It’ll be a hell of a ride, but I won’t be alone this time.”

#outlander #outlander fanfic #little bit better than i used to be #jamie and claire

88 notes · View notes

theloveoftoms · 2 years

Text

Singing to You - Kit Connor x Reader

Summary: You go over to your friend kit’s house and the two of you play the piano together. more of that cute hand stuff :)

A/N: okay, so since my other post about Kit did super well (like seriously more than 50 likes in less than 24 hours, thank u so much:)) and I have a huge crush on him, I decided to write yet another Kit x reader. I hope you enjoy! I LOVE YOU xxx -m

You had known Kit for quite some time now. The two of you had laughed tougher, cried together, and seen each other on a regular basis despite your conflicting schedules of work and school.

Tonight, you were over at his family’s home, a place you had come to love and know quite well over the years.

“Hi y/n,” Mrs. Connor greeted you as she welcomed you inside from the cool evening air.

“Hi,” you said, “is Kit around?” You asked, knowing damn well that your close friend had nothing better to do on his Monday night.

“He’s up in his room,” she said, smiling gently, “lovely to see you around again.”

You nodded politely as you made up way up the flight of stairs.

Kit’s room was cozy and decked out in all sorts of cool posters and photos that reflected his personality. He had band posters, Polaroids of his friends and family, and photos that inspired him.You knocked on the door lightly as you leant onto the frame.

Kit, who was busy typing away at his computer turned to face you, the corners of his mouth folding up into an easy smile. “Hey y/n” he said.

“Hiya Kit,” you said as as you walked into his room, taking a seat on the grey armchair in the corner, shrugging off your jumper. You noticed his guitar was out, resting on the bed. “Have you been playing the guitar lately?” You asked, gesturing to the soft-toned mahogany guitar.

Kit turned in his swivel chair and got up, walking to the bed picking it up. He strummed it lightly, “a bit,” he said, “I’ve been trying to get back into it again.”

You gestured to the guitar, “can I give it a try?”

Kit handed you the guitar gently, “by all means.”

You knew a couple of chords on the guitar which made you a bit more experienced than Kit. But you owned an electric guitar while Kit had an acoustic one. It played differently, but you loved how soft it sounded, especially against the gentle tones of night in the background.

You played a couple cords, picking and strumming away to the opening bars of Hotel California by the Eagles. Kit watched you with intriguing eyes as you finished your lick. “Woah,” he said, “that’s really good y/n!”

You blushed, “thanks Kit.”

Kit took a seat on his bed adjacent to you, “maybe you could teach me some time?”

You nodded, setting the guitar down, “only if you teach me something on piano first!”

Kit grabbed your hand, standing up, “come on then,” he said, leading you out of the room, “to the piano we go!”

You followed Kit back down stairs, through the kitchen and living room until you reached his smaller family room where along with a couple of lofty book cases and a vintage typewriter, was the piano standing up against the back wall.

No, it wasn’t some sort of black and white piano that belonged in the London orchestra. It was not a piano in a cool monochromatic pattern, but instead it was a dark mahogany piece that had been made in the early 1900s.

It had belonged to kit’s great-grandmother, and despite its age, being well over 100 years and all, it was in marvellous shape and had a unique voice whenever it was played.

You had seen the piano a few times before, played it once or twice with Kit, and you loved it.

Kit opened the door to the room for you and then closed it behind for privacy, after all, the two do you wouldn’t want his whole house hearing your attempt at a musical number!

You took a seat on the rectangular bench and scooted over for Kit to take his seat. Sitting beside you, you could feel the warmth of his body radiating next to you, his side gently pushed up against yours. His smell, a woodsy, citrusy, clean sort of smell filled your brain. He smelt like home.

“Okay,” Kit begun, “what song do you wanna play?”

“Vienna,” you said confidently after thinking about it for a moment, “if it’s not too hard. “

Billy Joel and his music always held a special place in your heart, and Vienna, a song you had loved for years, was one of your all time favourites.

“I should have knows you’d pick that one,” Kit said, pulling his phone out of the pocket of his grey jogging pants.

He typed something in and you warmed up your fingers by doing some easy scales you had remembered from the lessons you had taken in primary school.

He put the phone up on the piano, so the two of you could see it, “this one isn’t too bad. We’re just going to start with the basic chords.”

You placed your hands on the piano, and let Kit show how where to press your fingers. Kit let his fingers curl slowly over yours. His hands were soft and warm and oh how you wanted him to keep his hands exactly where they were.

As you began to play, memorizing where to put your fingers, kits hands slowly let up, letting you try it on your own.

It wasn’t the same piano tune as it was on the original song, but you could hear the words flowing out against the base notes. And after a little while of practice, it made sense to you and you could play

“Let’s try it from the top,” Kit said, “and we’ll do it all the was though.”

So, you did just that…

“Slow down, you crazy child,” you said, half singing half talking, knowing you singing voice to be not the strongest.

“You’re so ambitious for a juvenile,” kit sang, his hands over yours, gently there, guiding you to the next chord on the piano.

You had heard Kit song a couple times before, and you wished he would sing more often. His voice was deep and smooth like a Smokey bottle of whisky or a tin of honey in the lazy summer sun. His voice was relaxing and tender. It sounded as if the lyrics were made for Kit to sing them, they came so natural from him.

“If you’re so smart, tell me why are you still so afraid” the two of you sung lowly, “hmm,” Kit added in the short break between the next line.

The two of you played on, you playing the chords, Kit singing, you humming along until the last bar of the song.

“When will you realize…” Kit sang, you joining in for the final lyric, “Vienna waits for you!”

You smiled, looking at Kit, taking your hands off of the piano, “you are such a good singer Kit!”

He smirked, “thanks, but you did really well on the piano too!”

You laughed, leaning onto your friend, resting your head on his shoulder, “perhaps we should start a band”

Kit laughed, “for sure!”

#kit connor #Kit #heartstopper #crush #piano #Kit connor x reader #one shot #x reader #Kit connor x y/n

605 notes · View notes

riddle-me-ri · 11 months

Note

Congrats on 500 followers! I love your writing style and always smile when I see a new post from you.

Anyways, I'd like to request the shower drabble with secret six Jervis, please make it nsfw

Love ya!

A/N: asdfghjj hnnnggg he'd be so down for this, he’d be down for anything really. I can imagine this is the only way to get him to shower, period. Anyways, thank you sweet anon! I'm glad I can make you smile, I hope you enjoy!

Trigger Warning: explicit sexual content (shower sex, shower head play? Iykyk,not sure what it’s called but jervis gets off humping against you rip), reader is afab but otherwise uses gender neutral pronouns, hint of temp play? and heavy touching and kissing.

Word Count: 501

Secret Six Mad Hatter - Sharing a Shower

A stream of warm water lubricated your bodies as you two got tangled up in each other’s touches. You had to be on your knees on the shower floor in order to be face to face, but your knees going numb was a small price to pay for this sweet and passionate moment.

Jervis’ calloused hands were everywhere his hands could reach. Your chest, your waist, unclipped nails every now and then biting into your flesh.

Your lips and tongues were just as entangled as your arms and hands. Every now and then Jervis nipped on your bottom lip or your tongue, which caused you to giggle and strive to get back at him.

After some more intense lip-locking, a mischievous idea formed in Jervis’ mind.

“Oh, my dear, could you bring nozzle down to here?”

Confused, but nevertheless intrigued you brought the shower head down off it’s holder and Jervis quickly gestured for you to hand it to him.

Jervis then circled around you, with the nozzle still spraying asteady stream. Now he was behind you, giggling and humming all the while.

“Jervis…what’s you do-”

Jervis shushed you, “relax, darling…rest assure, this is for your utmost pleasure.” He chuckled. You didn’t notice him rising the temperature of the water and changing the speed of the spray.

Before you knew it, his arms were around your waist and under your own arms. You were sitting now on the floor with your back leaning against Jervis’. He leans his head in to bring your lips back to his.

As his lips distracted yours, he was able to bring the nozzle and aim the stream to your unsuspecting clit.

You almost jolted out of your skin, a moan ripped out of you that caused you to break the kiss. Jervis looked on as your eyes rolled back and you laid your head against him.

“J-J-Jer-Jervis…” You moaned, as your limbs and joints continue to curl with every tantalizing spray and vibration from the nozzle.

As much as your mind was clouded with pleasure and the overwhelming knot in your gut, you couldn’t help but feel another pressure along your back. It began rubbing against you in a harsh pace.

You could hear Jervis whimper in your ear, as he pressed the nozzle harder into you, before he began a deliberate rubbing motion.

Between the oncoming assault from both the front and back of you, the noises Jervis was making, and the steam from the shower caused you to be overwhelmed in a cloud of euphoria as you finally reached the precipice.

“Jervis-Jervis!” You cried as your legs convulsed and your nerves were lit up with electricity. He joined you soon after based on the breathless sigh that breezed in your ear and a sticky fluid clinging to your back.

Once you two regained some composure, Jervis brought the nozzle back around and rinsed off your back.

Jervis snickered. “Not matter how clean we be, you never cease to inspire naughty thoughts for me.”

#ri writes #ri 500 #secret six mad hatter x reader #secret six jervis tetch x reader

29 notes · View notes

heavenlydevine · 2 years

Text

MASTER OF PUPPETS ⇥EDDIE MUNSON.

FANDOM ⇥ STRANGER THINGS.

SUMMARY ⇥❝HE HAD YOU BY THE STRINGS, YET HE KNEW YOU WERE THE TRUE MASTER.❞

WARNINGS ⇥EXPLICIT CONTENT. PORN WITHOUT PLOT, OR IS IT PLOT WITH PORN? SELF EXPLANATORY. ROUGH SEX. ORAL (MALE RECEIVING). MINORS DNI.

EXTRA NOTES: Hello to all. Thank you for your continuous support and kindness. It really means the world to me. I'll be posting more content soon, but at the moment, my writing inspiration has taken a tumble down the rabbit hole, yet knowing that my work is appreciated and well received, well it makes me feel all warm and fuzzy, so thank you. I really poured my heart and soul into this one, so as always, reviews and reblogs are insanely appreciated.

You are the epitome of innocence as you hesitantly inch closer, a flurry of emotions visible in your eyes as you contemplate whether to succumb to peer pressure or tuck tail and run.

He sees this, yet he says nothing. He knows why you are here. He knows the internal battle raging within and yet he stays silent in fear that should he voice his quiet concerns, you’ll stop coming—and then he’d be bereft of the sweet little smiles you give him at the exchange of dollar bills and rolled up joints.

You are the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, yet he keeps his distance. Your naivety makes him often regret tempting you towards the dark side, but you had told him the truth.

You had confided in him that he was your saving grace against the mental battles you fought with your demons. He knew this, because he had his own battles to fight, and yet he’d still gladly take on your burdens, if it meant that you’d still smile at him like he was your personal little ray of sunshine.

“Hi, Eddie,” you approach him, standing silently in front of him with a nervous expression that makes him raise a questioning eyebrow, “I have a favour to ask.”

This isn’t unusual, he thinks to himself as he gives a subtle nod for you to enter his quaint little trailer, a warm yet shy smile fluttering across your face as you squeeze past him.

Fuck you smell good.

But he doesn’t say this. Instead he watches as you take the time to inspect your surroundings and this is the first time you enter his zen of peace and tranquillity, he realizes as you zero in on his baby, his pride and joy.

“Is that a Warlock NJ electric guitar?” He swears he wants to melt at the thought you a recognizing a piece of art, and yet he is intrigued on the notion that he didn’t know you were into music, let alone knowing what type of guitar he had. He’s never seen you with your Walkman.

He rubs the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you, “Yeah, custom made.”

You nod your head and glance at him, an expression that he can’t quite place forming on your face and suddenly he’s nervous, drooping his shoulders, “I do credit, if you are short on money. I have a book that keeps tabs. Though don’t tell anyone I said that, only for special customers.”

He swears his heart stops when you laugh delightfully at his words, confusion flashing across his face when you shake your head, “No, you dweeb. I don’t need a hit. I wanted to know if you wanted to go with me to see Metallica perform live at—,” he zones out, eyes widening as he looks for every sign known to man on whether you are pulling his leg or not, and when you snap your fingers in front of his face, he is overcome with a need to fucking kiss you senseless.

“Eddie, you are actually starting to scare me. I have an extra ticket cause my dad can’t go with me anymore, and you’re the only—.”

Fuck it.

He moves without hesitation, cupping your face between his hands before kissing you like his life depended on it, swallowing the gasp of surprise with a groan of his own, cause fuck, you taste like honey and he wants more. “Jesus,” he looks ashamed as his cheeks redden, not quite believing he had just kissed a girl like a prepubescent teenager unable to control his roaring desire. “You act like I just asked you to marry me.”

To him, you did, but he doesn’t say that, coughing slightly as he moves away from you. He can’t look at you, because there you are, lips swollen and chest heaving, looking like a delicious little morsel he wants nothing more than to devour, and you’re fucking smiling at him like he’s your entire world.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” you lean back and forth on your toes, sneakers squeaking at the movement, “—the concert is next Saturday, so don’t make any plans.”

And as you move to leave, you do something that makes him fall fucking harder. You lean upwards, placing a light kiss on the corner of his lips and then you’re gone.

After that, everything fucking changed.

He’s staring.

He’s always staring.

You have caught him off guard, because he looks for you throughout the week, anxious anticipation that you might change your mind and offer this once in a lifetime opportunity to someone else, and yet there you are again, reassuring him with a small smile and a gentle wave of the fingers.

Relax, your smile says and he does exactly that. His heart beats a little faster when you are around him and the others pick up the sudden change within their dungeon master.

Especially when Dustin mentions that you might attend the next campaign and fuck he can’t breathe. What else couldn’t you do? What other surprising things did you have hidden under your sleeve?

You stare back at him from across the hallway and it’s then that he notices the binder in your arms, his heart skips a beat and its confirmed.

Eddie Munson was hopelessly in love.

It starts with lingering stares throughout classes, you sitting at the front, yet situated so that you can see him from the corner of your eye. You smile.

It's torturous

You make him go wild.

You make him forget things.

Especially when you smile sweetly at him from your seated place at the cafeteria, chatting animatedly with your fellow friend, Chrissy Cunningham.

He chokes on a piece of bread.

You hide your amusement behind a quirk of the eyebrow. His desire grows like a thundering storm trembling to unleash its fury.

“Are you excited for the weekend?” You ask him one evening, he think it’s Wednesday, as he walks you home, and though he wants to respond, he can’t breathe. Not when you’re looking at him like that.

He thinks back to the first time the two of you had met, hitting off a mutual relationship with dealer and buyer, and yet there he was, imagination running wild with desire.

Would you taste like honey again, or would you taste different this time?

You pause. “Fuck,” you curse silently, gripping his hand and pulling him backwards. When had you stopped moving? “My dad’s home early. That only means one thing.”

He knows.

He always knows, because he sees the fear behind your eyes as you take a step backwards, tugging him with you.

“Eddie,” he looks at you and he groans, “—can I spend the night with you? At your place?”

He knows what will happen if he says yes, but the thought of him saying no causes far more pain to his aching heart that he nods his head and firmly holds your hand, “Yeah, sure.”

You follow him like a lost puppy back to his trailer, palms sweaty and a desire sparks within you.

The two of you share a joint, a warm smile on your face as you listen to him idly playing the familiar tune of Master of Puppets on his guitar, head bobbing in tune to the beat.

“I have a shirt you can wear, if you wanna get dressed in something else,” he blushes at the thought of you wearing the shirt he had in mind, but he doesn’t expect you to nod your head in barely restrained excitement.

He gives you the shirt.

You leave and he’s swallowed by a deafening silence. He shouldn’t be having these thoughts. But he can’t get it out of his head.

He wonders what you’ll sound like as he coaxes you into the throws of euphoria, his cock driving into you at a brutal pace, because he thinks you need it hard and fast.

He moans at the thought of your mouth suckling him dry, cheeks hollowing and saliva dripping down his shaft, because not to brag, he knows he’s too thick and too long for your mouth to take all of him.

No.

He couldn’t take advantage of you.

You were the only good thing in his life at the moment and he doesn’t want to ruin that. “Eddie.”

He doesn’t see you standing in front of him, his shirt barely covering your ass, and he doesn’t see the desire burning within your eyes.

The soft tune of the radio sparkles to life and lo and behold, Master of Puppets is streaming through the speakers and God your thighs clench together.

“Eddie Munson,” he startles as you tap his shoulder and you frown down at him. Something dark and sinister flashes through his eyes and your heart plummets towards the ground, “—this shirt makes me look fat.”

And then you pinch your stomach and he stands so swiftly that his firm hands holding you against him is the only thing keeping you from falling flat on your ass. “No, baby,” he murmurs darkly, “—it makes you look like a fucking goddess.”

Your mouth runs dry.

He throws caution to the wind and his lips descend, stealing the sudden gasp that tumbles from your lips, his tongue invading and prodding against yours—beckoning you towards the dark side.

He tastes like apples and cinnamon, you silently add within your thoughts, moaning into his mouth as his firm, yet gentle hands pull you closer against him. “Eddie,” you murmur against his lips and for a moment he is snapped back to reality, cursing himself that he had lost control so easily. “I want you. I want you so fucking much.”

He wastes no time and just as he’s about 5o kiss you like his life depends on it, you push him back, the back of his legs hitting the edge of his bed, “Let me make you feel good,” and dear God you push against him harder until he falls back unto his bed with a resounding plop.

“Fuck me,” he curses at the sight of you lowering yourself to your knees and he catches a small glimpse of a dampness soaking through your panties and fuck that strokes his ego, knowing that he was the cause of the mess between your legs.

Taste me and you will see more is all you need.

God taste him you did.

He barely remembers the sensation of you tugging the zipper of his jeans down, slender fingers seeking its prize until you had robbed him of all his senses, diving down unto him like a woman starved.

Dedicated to how I’m killing you…

You were killing him, tongue swirling around the head of his cock like a siren seducing a wayward soul, suckling on the tip like a newborn babe, pumping away like your life depended on it.

Fuck he can’t control his breathing, grunting against the sensation of your head bobbing up and down. “That’s it, pretty girl,” he murmurs breathless, “—take it. Take it all.”

His fingers take their place on your head, threading through your hair, guiding you towards his inevitable end.

Come crawling faster, obey your master…

He can’t think.

He can’t move.

He can’t breathe.

“Jesus!” and then you swallow him whole, moaning against the sensation of fulfilment, the tip of his cock hitting the softness of the back of your throat and for a moment he thinks you might gag, he doesn’t mind, only to throw his head back what you hollow out your cheeks and moan loudly.

Your life burns faster…

Obey your master…

You are pulling him apart at the seams, bobbing your head up and down at a furious pace that unleashes something dark and twisted within him, and without hesitation, he abruptly stands and watches as his cock pops out your mouth, “Eddie?”

Master….

You were the puppet pulling his strings, and God be his witness he’d twist your mind and shatter your dreams. “Get on the bed, pretty girl. I can’t take it anymore.”

He was so close to his end.

So fucking close.

But he wanted you. He wanted to feel you come undone beneath him.

You do as your told and yelp as a firm slap against your ass drives you forward, falling face first against the mattress, bouncing and breathless he watches, “I’m gonna fuck you, pretty girl, and you will take it like the good little girl you are”

He doesn’t give you a chance to back away from this, his sanity standing on the precipice of no return, because fuck it all. He was so lost in you that he couldn’t even think properly.

Blinded by me, you can’t see a thing…

Your ass is on full display, his handprint proudly marking your skin as he crawls towards you, cock pulsing with the need to bury deep within your tight little cavern, and yet first he wants to be the one pulling you apart. He wants to see how far he can push you. He wants to test your limits.

“Eddie!”

But his face is buried between your ass cheeks, the scent of you driving him insane as he plunged his tongue inside your pussy, licking and sucking in a way that made your arms tremble and cave beneath you, face pressed against the sheets as you are lost in the burning pleasure Eddie Munson was coaxing through your body. He groans at taste of you, fingers now gripping and fondling with your ass cheeks, spreading them and kneading them, flicking his tongue in and out.

You couldn’t.

Just call my name, ‘cause I’ll hear your scream.

“Eddie!”

Master…

He can’t.

His cock weeps painfully, bereft of attention as his fingers take the place of his tongue, scissoring and curving within your moist cavern.

Just call my name, ‘cause I’ll hear your scream.

You scream his name once more and he fears that you might have broken you. He grins in amusement, watching you come undone beneath him.

He's not done with you.

No.

Not by a long shot.

He rids himself of all his clothing, and you know what’s coming. He sees it in the way you curve your back to accommodate him, legs spreading apart.

His fingers ghost across the curve of your ass, prodding your tiny little hole and taking pleasure in the way you push against his thumb.

Who knew you were such a dirty little thing?

But no.

He’ll entertain that fantasy another time, because he makes swift work of pumping his shaft in his right hand, left arm propelling forwards to grip your shoulder, “Deep breaths, pretty girl.”

And then he plunges into you with one full snap of his hips and you scream his name, eyes rolling back as pain and pleasure mix together.

He is brutal and merciless, pounding into you at a pace that makes his heart hammer against his chest and his lips pull apart to hiss out in absolute ecstasy.

Because fuck you feel so good wrapped around him. “Take it, sweetheart.” He yanks your head backwards, shushing your cries of pleasure with his lips slanting over yours, swallowing every sound you gave him. “I got you, pretty girl.”

You took his cock so well, your pussy swallowing him whole with every snap of his hips, ass jiggling at every brutal thrust.

I will occupy…

I will help you die…

He never seizes in his punishing pace against your trembling form, perspiration clinging to his skin as the sound of your moans mingle with the grunts of his undoing.

I will run through you…

You turn into jelly in his arms, head lolling backwards. His arms are now wrapped around you, muscles constricting painfully against as he fights against his own release, chasing yours with reckless abandon.

You scream his name once more, using the strength of his right arm to keep you firmly in place against his chest, whilst his left arm preoccupies itself with seeking out your precious pearl.

Fingers tweaking your nipple, your cries growing louder with every second, Eddie knows he’s losing control, and so without warning, he pushes you down with a force that makes you cry out, fingers digging into the supple flesh of your ass and he snaps.

He pounds into you brutally, faster and stronger like a man possessed. You are a squirming mess beneath him, yet you take what he gives you with a iron fist, teeth biting down on the pillow you had grabbed moments prior, “Jesus, fuck!”

He knows he’s hurting you but you don’t complain, meeting his thrusts at every step, eyes bloodshot as you watch him pound in and out of you.

Obey your master.

“Cum.”

You come undone at the same time he pulls out of your quivering heat, spilling his essence on your ass with a hiss that robs him of his sight. “Jesus,” he gasps out as he watches you still tremble and shake, breathless and wide eyed.

“That was—,” he starts.

“—amazing.” You finish.

He inhales sharply as you smile shyly at him, humming in silent pleasure as you squeeze your thighs together, turning on your side before lazily gliding your finger across his chest, grazing the soft tuft of dark hair surrounding his softening cock, “I want you to cum in my mouth next time. I didn’t get my dessert.”

He laughs sharply, leaning over you to place a gentle kiss against your sweaty brow, “I’ll go get you clean clothes. Just need to clean myself up.”

He sees that he has worn you out, eyes drooping slowly, mumbling incoherently as he retreats towards his bathroom.

He can’t believe what had transpired between the two of you and yet as he cleans himself up and marvels at the red tint of his skin, he can’t help but grin.

He doubted you’d be walking straight tomorrow, or the day after. He grabs a new cloth, rinsing it out with lukewarm water.

You are fast asleep when he returns, smiling softly to himself as he watches you for a moment.

He cleans the mess he made, watching as goosebumps explode across your skin. A content sigh escapes your lips and you shift, mumbling inchorent nonsense and he huffs a breath.

Because fuck it.

Eddie Munson is so fucking in love with you it threatens to tear him apart from the inside out, because he’d be damned to hell if he let you slip through his fingers.

He had you by the strings, and yet he knew you were the true Master.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things imagine #Master of Puppets #stranger things #Eddie Munson Fanfic #Eddie Munson Smut Imagine #Eddie Munson Fic #Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader #Reader Imagine

172 notes · View notes

bobfloydsbabe · 6 months

Note

Helena.......my lovely, dearest, darling Helena, I can't thank you enough for putting up with me in such a short amount of time. I know I send in an ask once a day, but as always, thank you for letting me do so, you, Becca and so many others are the absolute best!!!

I was still thinking about Teacher!Bob x Teacher!Reader doing that joint literary history class on the Vikings and about the poor cat at home having a few sticky notes stuck to her (lol). I'd imagine too that both you and Bob are really big on the immersive learning with your students so when you do read from the Sagas, Beowulf or even from the ones from Finland, Bob will set up one of those little electric campfires that has flickering lights, make the room dark enough for the campfire and absolutely loves it when the snow is falling outside.

Bob's also very big on the visual learning so with the chalkboard in the classroom, he'll do these really impressive chalkboard drawings alongside the notes of the day. He even brings in the old, battered books which your students love the smell of (he swore it got one of the students to quit sniffing Sharpies all day long, lol).

*BONUS*

I did put it in the reblog last night, but I imagine that when the school signs up for the trips abroad to Europe, you, Bob and the other teachers get to take the kids to Norway, Sweden and Denmark. One of Bob's bucket list places was in Norway and is known as "The Troll's Tongue". I'm not sure if you've ever been but it's near Odda and it's in the middle of this giant fjord (I swear to God this place was the inspiration for Anduin in Lord of the Rings) and it's a long, flat topped rock structure on the cliff that juts out over the river and is about 2,000 ft off the ground. Needless to say, you loved it because Bob was there with you, but damn if those heights didn't freak you out (lol).

Okay, I love this so much!!! My ability to string together a coherent sentence is questionable right now (it's after midnight lol), so forgive me if I don't make a lot of sense.

I believe in Bob is a cat person supremacy. It's a black cat that was the runt of the litter and she runs around the house with bright pink post-its attached to her fur. You and Bob set up camp in the library with hot coffee, blankets, the cat, books, the electric fire while wind rustles the windows of your old home and snow falls like blanket on the ground. He's so ridiculously in love with you, and every time he thinks he can't love you more, he looks at you and feels his heart swell. And yes, you do get down and dirty in that home library. I'm not saying your first kid was conceived there, but...

I have not actually heard of Trolltunga, but I looked it up and damn if it isn't the most gorgeous thing I've ever seen. It looks incredible. You and Bob encourage the kids to explore while staying safe, and he sees you with the students and knows he's found the one. He holds your hand, kisses your cheek and even sneaks one to your lips, but the kids catch you start singing the song about kissing in a tree. It's cute and you laugh. His cheeks go red from the cold and you make sure to pull his woolen hat down over his ears to protect them.

I just love this AU so much, and while it's not something I'll write, I do adore talking about it. I have my work cut out for me enough with librarian!Bob and eccentric professor!Bob.

#mail #answered #auroralightsthesky #teacher bob #bob floyd #teacher!bob #bob floyd x reader #teacher bob thots

10 notes · View notes

pagerunner-j · 5 months

Text

All right, all right. This is a bad idea! I've been trying not to cross these streams for a long time! But: fuck it. Who fics ahead!

Long story short: I used to write under another pen name. I stopped using it and deleted my old journal after some personal crap, which still makes me feel sad and stupid, and I'd wanted at the time to scrub the slate clean. Some of what's still kicking around under my old username, though, includes stories at whofic.com, which predates AO3 and still exists, doing its Whovian thing.

So after recent fandom flashbacks, I've been rereading my old stuff. Which has been...interesting!

Obligatory disclaimer: oh, god, do I want to edit everything. These date back as far as 2005, and so certain old habits linger, like the fact that I hadn't yet gotten over my torrid love affairs with the semicolon and the ellipsis. I want to fix the occasional dips into overwrought nonsense. I'm also looking at some of the more adult content and thinking, "Okay, that went from 0-60 a wee bit fast. Calm the hell down, self."

BUT: there's also stuff here I like! And about which I'm thinking "crap, I used to be good at this," because I can never leave myself alone!

Anyway, here's a few stories from the "this does not shame me" pile, plus notes:

Gen

Translations (Ten/Rose) Original description: There are some things the TARDIS doesn't translate, and some secrets of the Doctor's left unexplained. Rose is setting out to find out why.

Probably the best thing of mine on this archive, and one of the most developed narratives. The sneaky, sneaky merchant, whose storyline never quite gets resolved (on purpose), was one of my better ideas. The other was Rose interpreting the TARDIS console's layout as looking like a Gallifreyan word. And, for that matter, Rose's name looking like an actual flower. Thank you, DW designers, for a completely impractical but extremely cool-looking written language. Also, the fact that the marketplace has thirteen floors, and they were on the tenth? Yeah, yeah, that was on the nose. I note that since then, the showrunners have thrown the Doctor's thirteen-regenerations limit out the window, for perfectly understandable reasons, but it was still kicking around at the time.

Roundabout (Nine/Rose) Original description: Time and possibilities keep turning. an exploration of the Doctor and Rose's relationship throughout the series. Spoilers for all [first season] episodes.

The other one that I'd file under "hey, you wrote a story! And it's not bad! Good job, self!" file. I really loved Nine and Rose, and I went to town with it here. I also got completely self-indulgent in a few places. As one does. The scene at the club is my favorite on that account. This quip of Jack's to the Doctor was, among other things, a sidelong nod to a few of my feelings about American polarization, and believe me, It's worse now: "It's Saturday night. We're in one of the last great cities of post-Dissolution America. And the most handsome man in the club has just bought you an Electric Comet. Do yourself a favor. Get drunk." Also, the reason Rose thinks she knows the music that's playing is that it's 110% a quote from a Billie Piper song. I don't think anybody ever noticed, but it's there.

Outgeniused (or: How to Get Fired From the Apple Store in Three Easy Steps) (Ten, OC) Original description: Kate Stowe's seen a lot of strange problems come up at the Genius Bar, but this one qualifies as the strangest she's seen yet. Presenting a bit of shameless insanity, featuring the Doctor, a race of aliens with quite inconvenient taste, and several unorthodox ways to break your iPod's warranty. (In other words: crackfic ahead!)

I really wasn't kidding about that last line. This one is unabashed ridiculousness, inspired by your author doing a seasonal stint in Apple retail that left a goddamn mark. Sadly, the Doctor never swung by my store. A lot of real-life tidbits did make their way into this story, though. And despite all odds, it's got a plot! Fun facts (for nerds): the product line was accurate as of the time I wrote this. The iPod shuffle disclaimer I was talking about? That was absolutely a thing. And my favorite line is still the Doctor apologizing for not getting AppleCare, because I had to pitch that to so many people. I have never once bought it for myself. No regrets. Don't tell Tim. Also, apparently the UK really has gone all-in on Black Friday since I wrote this. I have to ask: why? Why must you import the worst of our capitalistic excesses? You really didn't have to! Le sigh.

The Naughty Bits

A Matter of Timing (Ten/Rose) Original description: In matters of love, sex and the technicalities thereof, somebody better be thinking ahead. Rose/Ten, post-Journey's End.

Short, sweet, and silly. This one's about Rose and the clone of Ten off in their parallel universe, and exists for the sake of the conversation they're having, which is in part about the mechanics of that whole cloning thing. Although it's mostly about the sex. Which they are absolutely and enthusiastically having the whole damn time. ("Haven't ever seen that on a clock" is still my favorite line.)

Slightly Psychic Confessions (Nine/Rose/Jack) Original description: Getting caught with slightly psychic paper in one's hands can be a dangerous thing indeed.

Like it says on the tin. 90% of the reason this was written was so I could play with the props, and the dialogue (both spoken and psychically transcribed) is the part I most enjoy, although I've been told the rest of it's pretty okay too. ...yes, the rest of it is a threesome. Stop looking at me like that.

Selfish Dreams (Ten/Rose) Original description: Wherein solutions to lingering nightmares lead to a different sort of sleeplessness. Slightly spoilery through "The Satan Pit."

Sometimes I get creepy, even with characters I love and will ship forever. This one was mostly me thinking through some of the...potentially fraught...implications of Ten's psychic abilities, and is one of my "I guess I'm preoccupied with nightmares and dreams, because I'm gonna come back to that in a few different ways" stories in this archive. Anyway, none of what they're up to here is what I'd consider a good idea. At least Rose enjoyed herself, though.

Forgetting the Nightmare (Nine/Jack) Original description: In which neither the Doctor nor Jack can get any sleep, but for very different reasons.

As I was saying. This is about a plot point from the show I'd forgotten about since writing this: Jack's two years of missing memory. (So, yes, apparently mine's missing too. It's been A LONG TIME, okay?) He's having some issues coming to terms with that. So how do I decide to have them address it? Boinking on the TARDIS floor, apparently. ...ahem. Anyway, as is the case with a lot of the shit I wrote, it's a little emotionally messy. It also hints at a few things that are still very much up for interpretation. Less in need of puzzling out is that yes, the two lost years are represented by the two burned-out lights on the console they're trying to fix, because I am occasionally as subtle as a brick.

Beyond Locked Doors (Ten/Reinette) Original description: A glimpse into Reinette's memories and dreams throughout the events of "The Girl in the Fireplace."

Yeah, this is one of those that dips into being overwrought, and yes, my inner editor is bitching at me about sacrificing clarity in the process. But writing from Reinette's POV was a fun exercise. It's a very different flavor from everything else here. Also, just to get this stated, you still can't tell me that the "dance with me" line in the show and those two disappearing off screen together wasn't also Moffat being subtle as a brick with his metaphors, so I still feel justified in writing this one. The (implied) sex was canon and I will die on that hill.

So Brief, In Bloom (Ten/Reinette) Original description: Wherein the Doctor thinks of other ways this could have gone.

And now...things go south. I'm pretty sure I'm the only weirdo who cared about this story. It is, let's be fair, also weird. This is about Ten being haunted by the idea of what might have happened if he did get Reinette to come along with him, and what the ramifications of that change might be. Not overtly stated, but it's there, is that in this alternate timeline, Rose didn't take well to this idea, and eventually left. The result is some Seriously Conflicted Feelings. And some ill-advised attempts at banishing them. I once got a comment on my old journal from somebody who didn't understand the last line. it's oblique on purpose, and you're invited to imagine your own version, but what was going on in my head was that back in the actual timeline, Ten absolutely had his way with Rose against that very same wall to try to scrub the idea of the other timeline out of his head. Considering that the wayward strand of hair he found could have belonged to either her or Reinette, though? It...didn't exactly help.

A Laugh Like Thunder (The Master/Lucy) Original description: The Master and Lucy on the eve of destruction, thinking of what's to come. (Spoilers through "The Sound of Drums.")

I'm including this here solely because I'd forgotten about it until I trawled back through my archive, and was thus smacked upside the head with the facts that A: it existed at all, B: this thing went places, and C: I started it off with, "On the eve of destruction, the Prime Minister tied his wife to the bedposts and began to think of another man." Go off, self.

#doctor who #fics

8 notes · View notes