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landwriter · 1 year

Note

13!

Shut Up by Stormzy.

Hob is a literature professor. Dream is an underground electronic music artist who goes by Morpheus. They never would've met. Never would've even known about each other.

Except. Hob is bit addicted to Twitter. Except. Hob has a bit shit taste in music. Except. A student cancels her presentation because she got last-minute tickets to a Morpheus show and Hob looks him up and gets irrationally mad at a stupid skinny little goth that doesn't even play any real instruments or sing and whose photo of a sneaker drop, whatever that is, got a thousand retweets within hours.

This is the story of how Hob sends a petty tweet and then sort-of-accidentally starts iconic Twitter beef with Dream.

Death, acclaimed hip-hop artist and meddling older sister, is delighted by a random man in a sweater-vest rudely insulting her brilliant baby brother, and insists on catching up with Dream so they can collab on a diss track, because it'll be very interesting. Hob finds out about it at a lecture and plays it in front of his whole class. It's clever and funny and absurdly referential. He falls a little bit in love with the wrong person, because he thinks the lyrics are Death's.

He slides into Dream's DMs to tease him about his older sister to protecting him (and maybe ask for her number), and Dream cops to writing it. Hob reacts with so much earnest wonder that he has to swiftly follow it with calling Dream a pretentious cunt, just to balance things out. They continue talking, under the flimsy auspices of being mean to each other.

One day, Dream video calls him while stuck at an airport, wearing stupid glasses and a stupid hat like a some kind of celebrity traveling incognito - because he sort of is, Hob belatedly realizes - and that's when he sees Dream laugh for the first time. It's because of him. He realizes he wants to kiss the stupid skinny little goth. Wants Dream to be his stupid skinny little goth. Has no idea how to do that. He pines. Dream pines.

When there's a show playing near Hob, Dream sends him a VIP ticket, day-of, with no other message or context. Hob goes, of course, feeling tremendously uncool at the venue. But during the show he finally understands, in a way he didn't before, how Dream pulls whole worlds to life with his music, how he weaves something new and incredible from samples alone. How he tells stories without words.

After, awed, he goes backstage, and almost regrets it when he has to face half of Dream's entourage, whose ruthless teasing is absolutely secret screening to see if he's Good Enough For Our Morpheus, but he gives as good as he gets, and, unable to bear it any longer, Dream tells them all to fuck off. Then it's just them, and Dream makes some vulnerable little joke about whether Hob still thinks it's not real music, but Hob is just standing there, bluescreened before the sight of this man, who he wants to be his, who he's spent hours with online, who he's never even touched, so human and real suddenly. Dream is flushed and sweaty and a bit of his hair is plastered to his forehead. The energy of the crowd is still glowing underneath his skin. Hob is hapless. Hob can only think to ask to kiss him. So he asks, and that's how their first time ends up being in a shitty little greenroom in Manchester. And their second. The third, at least, is in Dream's hotel.

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peachesofteal · 4 months

Text

Dead Disco / Chapter 11

Dead Disco masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 2k words - AO3 Warnings-tags: no smut but this fic contains mature themes. Relationship issues, arguments. Angst. Toxic behavior. Johnny is struggling. Everyone is going through it. Johnny struggles.

"No contact?!" Johnny chokes, and you hesitate on the other end of the line, sharp breath rattling through the speaker phone.

“My… my therapist thinks it would be good, to try it. For thirty days. Just to see how I feel.” Johnny’s fingers stretch across the front pocket of his pants.

Thirty days?

You’ve already been gone five, and it feels like five years.

He balks. No. No, this. This can't be. You have to be home, with them. Where you belong. Where they can fix it.

“Ye… no, I thought… I thought this was just a break?” He doesn’t recognize his voice. It’s ragged and torn to shreds, and now fear makes it tremble.

What does this mean?

“It is, it is. I just… I have to try this.” You sound as sad, as fucked up as he does, and he wants to scream, throw the phone against the wall, say screw it all to hell and go over to your rental, bang on the door until you let them inside.

“Of course, darling.” Simon soothes, and Johnny stares at him like he's lost his grasp on reality. Of course? Of course?! “We understand, we… we can do that. We’ll do whatever you want.”

“No.” Johnny cuts in, he can’t stop himself, can’t control his mouth. He can’t agree to this, to not talking to you, or seeing you for thirty days. He can’t do it. “I-“

“ Johnny.”

“Johnny-“ You both say his name at the same time. Yours is a plea. Simon’s is cautionary, finger seeking the mute button, cutting you out of the conversation for a split second, long enough for him to utter a warning.

“Do not push her on this. We need to let her decide right now. She’s in control.”

“Hello?”

“We’re here.” Simon assures you, unmuting the phone. “We understand. No contact, thirty days. Will you reach out, afterwards?”

“I… I will, I promise.”

“And you’ll take care of yourself?” There’s a pause on the other end of the line, a gulp. Simon’s façade cracks, enough that Johnny can see the fear that lurks there, the worry.

“Ye-yeah. I am. I will.”

“Will you come to bed?”

Johnny’s thumbs press together, overlapping where his fingers stay knitted tight, grasping onto one another like he’s holding onto himself for dear life.

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath in and then releases it slowly through his nose. It’s a self-soothing technique, one he’s seen you do a million times. But once he’s done, his response is no less acidic. “I cannae sleep.”

Silence is his answer, until-

“Johnny.” Simon’s forearm wraps across his shoulders, pulling him backwards from the stool and into the cushiony warmth of his chest, heat burning into his back. Simon’s always been a furnace, a giant, weighted, heated blanket, his touch one of safety, security. Care.

But right now, all it feels like is anguish.

“Si.” He croaks, tears welling up behind his eyes. “I cannae do this any longer. I cannae… I need her back.”

“We need to be patient, and respect-“

“Respect?” Johnny blurts, incredulous. “No, No, I… We should be there, right now. We should be standing outside her door, we should be fightin’ for her, nae sitting ‘ere, waiting. Showin’ her how much she means; how sorry we are.” The warmth pulls away, an exasperated sigh blowing across the back of his neck.

“I’m not having this conversation again.” Simon is curt, growing cold, and it fuels the burning rage building inside Johnny’s stomach.

“Of course, because why would ye? It’s already settled in yer mind, isn’t it? That we just sit here, and wait, and let her slip away because ye coudnae keep yer mouth shut!” He’s said the same thing a thousand different ways over these last three weeks. Dressed Simon up and down six ways to Sunday over it, different verbiage each time.

The conversation always ends the same.

“Can you forgive me?”

“Of course I can but I’m still mad at ye.”

The anger foils away, ebbing into sadness, despair, and Johnny’s sight goes black when he buries his face in his hands.

“I miss her.” He whispers to the floor. The warmth returns and wraps him in a snug embrace, soft words hummed against the shell of his ear, each one punctuated with a kiss.

“I know, I know you do. I do too.”

“You nearly got yourself blown up!” Simon roars, and Johnny nearly flinches, steeling himself against his partner’s anger. “You can’t be makin’ stupid decisions like that. You jeopardized-“

“I knew what I was doin’. Dinnae question me, ye dinnae know anything about the tech behind those explosives, and ye know it.” He stands a little straighter, indignant, insulted, and Simon’s eyes narrow, before squinting, tension shoving his shoulders down in a slump.

This isn’t like them. They’re always in lock step. One unit. One person, two hearts.

The cot creaks beneath Simon’s weight, elbows against his knees.

“Johnny, what’s going on?”

“What do ye mean?” Dirty, cheap laminate flooring stares up at him, patterns in the grit swirling together like sand.

“You’re not yourself. Price mentioned-“

“Ye and Price talkin’ ‘bout me?” Unsettled anger rattles him, immediate demand rising through his blood. Simon holds his hand up.

“No. He was concerned, said you were a little rash the other day, on the recon. Asked if everything was alright.” He blinks. Blinks over and over, tries to quash the surging agony, the upheaval of his stomach. He fights it, tries to breathe through it, tries to stop it in his tracks, but a big grip wraps around his wrist, and tugs.

He’s settled into Simon’s lap without another word, his nose to his neck, fingers stroking through his mohawk.

“It’s going to be alright. You’re alright. We’re going to get her back, love.”

“I cannae do this. Ye dinnae know-“

“I know.” He squeezes him, calming him, and Johnny melts a little, sharp blade of the pain turning dull. “I know that the best thing we can do right now is be patient, and respect what she’s asked us to do. When she’s ready, she’ll let us know, and we’ll do everything we can, to try to fix it. To make it better.”

“I feel like there’s a hole-“ His hand rubs his chest, over and over, until the skin burns. “Like there’s a piece missing. I dinnae think I can do it, without her.” His voice breaks, and Simon’s attempt to calm him comes out like a strangled cry. “It hurts, Si.”

“We won’t. We just have to be patient, Johnny. We have to. We have to show her we can do it.” Simon murmurs, and then they both slip into a sad silence, Johnny huffing through his tears against Simon’s chest until he’s dragging them both down into the little cot, escaping into the comfort of uneasy sleep.

The flat is too quiet.

Lately, he’s been putting your favorite movies on in the small hours of the morning. Simon sleeps in now, restless until the sun starts to come up, and then he finally sinks beneath pull of dreams, or nightmares, whichever comes first.

So, Johnny curls up on the couch by himself, with your favorite tea, flip flopping between the rotation of movies that you always had rolling in the background, when you were painting, when you were cooking, or even reading.

But today, he paces. Back and forth from the bedroom, the kitchen, to the art room, the one you left half barren, the one that still holds nearly finished paintings, dried tubes of paint, stiff bristled brushes, long discarded for new ones, but not thrown away.

“I’m going to the gym, want to come?” Simon is hovering just outside the door, brows fixed together. He hasn’t stepped foot in here, Johnny has noticed, not since you left nearly a month ago. In fact, he avoids this room like the plague.

“No, ye go on.”

“You sure?” His head cocks in consideration, and then he nods.

“Yeah. Love ye.”

“Love you too. Be good.”

“Where the bloody hell have ye been?” Johnny seethes, arms crossed. Their half-eaten plates still sit cold on the table, mocking him since Simon left in the middle of the meal an hour ago.

“Out. For a walk.” The hoodie comes up and over his shoulders, and Johnny catches a whiff of it.

Cigarette smoke.

“A walk, eh? Ye out walkin’, and smoking?”

“Johnny.”

“Dinnae Johnny me, ye’ve been smoking, I can smell it.”

“I don’t want to do this right now.” He snaps, turning his back, heading into the bedroom, the bathroom.

“Ye dinnae want to do what?”

“This. Fight. Argue.” The shower clicks on, steam slowly building from the floor as Simon shucks his joggers, his boxers, Johnny’s eyes struggling to stay fixed on his partner’s face.

“I’m not arguing, I… I dinnae understand how ye can be so casual about this, it’s-“

“What am I supposed to do?” Simon turns on him, still angry, still hurt from their conversation earlier. It brews beneath the surface like a finely veiled stormed, just barely held back. “Lose my head? Fall apart?”

“I dinnae, talk to me?” Simon’s jaw clenches. Every scar on Simon’s back speaks to him, tells him stories, corroborates his witness accounts. Johnny wishes he could take them away; wishes he could kiss them.

But Simon feels so far away now. He’s felt miles away since you left, since the bed slept three, table slept three, couch held three.

“I’m right here, Si. I’m here.”

Johnny knows what he’s doing is wrong. He’s fully self-aware, but completely out of control. His legs carry him down the street on autopilot, barrage of requests and demands from his rational self trying to break through the encasement where he’s locked them away.

He shouldn’t be doing this. He shouldn’t.

He can’t help it. He can’t do this… anymore. It’s killing him. It’s killing Si.

He worries it’s killing you.

He tells himself he’s just going to check on you, make sure you’re okay. He’s not going to bother you, just make you’re alive. He’s not going to stay, he’s just going to say hi, ensure you’re safe, healthy, and then leave.

If you even open the door.

Guilt, anxiety, fear all turns over in his stomach, freezing through his blood as he climbs the stairs to your long term rental. He just needs to see you, needs lay eyes on you, just once, and it will all be okay. He’ll be okay, once he knows you’ll be okay.

Simon is going to be so bloody pissed. He grimaces. He knows there will be hell to pay. That Simon will be enraged, disappointed. That he’ll be upset.

They made a promise. He made a promise.

And now he’s going to break it, just like that.

He stands outside your door for too long, contemplating. Trying to sift through every decision he’s ever made, that led him to this point. He could still turn around, still go home, even though his finger is itching to ring the bell, a burning desire searing through his mind, urging him forward until his forehead is thunking softly against the wood, eyes closing.

Darling.

He can still see your face, your smile. The ways your eyes light up, the way your voice sounds when you say his name.

“I need ye, we need ye.” He whispers to no one, and then his finger presses the button, breath holding in his chest.

A few seconds pass. He strains to listen, latching onto the sound of footsteps inside, the click of a lock, the creak of the hinges, and then the door opens wide, revealing you on the other side.

“Darling.” You’re haunted, a flicker of a memory, a sharpened shadow sawing into the soft matter of his brain. You blink like you're trying to clear your vision, like you're struggling to see him, and he offers you an uneasy smile, something nervous and unsettled. You shake your head, mouth open in surprise, confusion, eyes wide.

“Johnny.”

#peaches writes #dead disco #ghost x soap x reader #ghoap x reader #soap x ghost x reader #ghost x reader x soap #simon riley x reader #simon riley #john soap mactavish #john soap mactavish x reader

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usedtobecooler · 1 year

Note

Stocking Stuffer prompt: phonesex with Eddie and the not so innocent reader?

smutty stocking stuffers day five — eddie munson x reader

Pairing | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Warnings | sexual content (18+ minors dni), phone sex, masturbation, dirty talk

Word Count | 2k

A/N | just when i think i’ve almost exhausted all sexual scenarios involving eddie somebody will suggest something i’ve never done 🫣🤍

It’s pitch dark in your bedroom. You know that much as you groggily rouse from your deep sleep to the shrill ring of the telephone by your bedside, unaware of how long you’ve actually been asleep for. It’d been a long day, you’d gotten home and just passed out the moment your head hit the pillow, blocking out the world in favor of a peaceful nap.

You pick up the receiver, holding it to your ear, “Hello?” You whisper, voice gravelly and throat dry, and you so desperately wish you’d thought of taking a cup of water from the kitchen before descending the stairs earlier.

“Hey, sweet thing,” Eddie Munson’s cool voice echoes down the phone, and you find yourself struggling with not rolling your eyes, because of course it’s him calling at this hour, “I can’t imagine O’Donnell would be happy to find out her best student didn’t show up for tutoring her worst student tonight.”

“Shit,” You mutter, rubbing at your sleep crusted eyes and groaning, “Sorry, Eddie. I fell asleep, forgot we were meant to study tonight. I can do tomorrow instead?”

“No can do, sweetheart, got Hellfire tomorrow night,” Eddie shuffles around on the other end of the phone, and you wonder what the fuck he could be doing, “What am I meant to do now, hmm? It’ll be your fault if I fail this class again, babe.”

“If you were that concerned you’d bail on your silly little club to study tomorrow,” You hum in disapprovement, flicking the switch on your bedside lamp and flopping down onto your back, hand splayed out on your belly – comfortable, “What time is it? I can maybe come now?”

“It’s one in the morning, I don’t think mommy and daddy would like their little princess sneaking out at this hour to meet up with a delinquent,” Eddie’s chuckle is deep, and you find your stomach doing flips because of it, “They might think you’re up to no good, we can’t have that, can we?”

You wriggle around a little, cheeks flushing hot, “Maybe I want them to think that,” You speak honestly, a breathy little sigh escaping you, “‘Good girl’ like me corrupted by the town freak? People would eat that shit up.”

“Maybe she’s not as good as everybody thought,” Eddie muses, and you can tell he’s grinning by his tone, “Have a feeling you’d get a sick thrill out of that, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, maybe,” You agree, hand gliding down your belly to dip into the waistband of your pajama shorts, unable to contain yourself, your pussy fluttering just at listening to him speak, “Hey, Eddie? I might have a way I can make it up to you.”

“Really, do tell,” Eddie’s humoring you now, he’s already right where you are, bare cock slapped up against his belly. He’s never been so fucking glad to sleep naked in his life.

“Yeah,” Your breath hitches as you dip your hand into your pretty underwear, fingers gliding through your folds to find them already soaked, you shudder at the feeling, “What’re you wearing?”

Eddie barks out a laugh, the unexpectedness of your bold question catching him completely by surprise, “Nothing,” He answers honestly, cock kicking up against his belly, leaving a smear of precum behind, “What about you? Probably a virginal white nightgown, knowing you.”

“Shorts and panties, some ratty old shirt – they’re black, though. Good girls don't always have to be virgins,” You remind him, and you catch the strained noise that comes from his throat on the other end, vibrating straight to your cunt. You swipe your fingers over your clit, sating the hunger only momentarily, “Wanna touch yourself?”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing?” Eddie feigns idiocy, even as he leans over to rummage in his bedside drawer for his bottle of lube. He uncaps it quickly, squirting a heavy amount onto the thick underside of his cock. You make a shocked noise on the other end, “I like it wet.”

“Lucky for you, my pussy is always wet,” You deal the first gut wrenching blow, and Eddie whimpers in response. You hear his fist wrapping around his cock, sliding up and down to get him nice and soaked with the lube, “Go on then, tell me what you wanna do.”

“Finger yourself for me, sweetheart,” Eddie’s voice is gruff on the other end, clearly overcome with the pleasure of his own fist on his hard cock. It does things to you, makes your pussy flutter.

You don’t know why you do it with zero issue, slipping your middle and ring fingers deftly over your hole, catching and dragging on the entrance so you can get them nice and slick, “Fuck,” You sigh quietly, sinking them both into your cunt in one swift motion, “My fingers are too short, I can’t reach that well. Bet your thick fingers would feel so good.”

Eddie chokes on his own spit, face flushing hot, “You’ve noticed my fingers before? Dirty girl, maybe you’re not so innocent after all.” His breathing hitches as he thumbs over the head of his cock, hand working himself and wrist twisting at the top few inches.

"Hard to ignore them, Eddie," You moan, tilting your head to the side so that you can rest the phone between your ear and your shoulder, dipping your other hand into your panties so you can thumb at your clit, a raspy little contented sigh escaping you, "Those fucking rings bring all the attention to them."

"Bet you'd love it if I fingered you with them on," Eddie squeezes his eyes shut, trying hard to rid himself of the image in his head otherwise this'll all be over too quick, "Wanna see you come all over them. I'd make you lick them clean, but you'd like that, huh?"

You gasp quietly at his words, voice going straight to your core, "I would, Eddie." You admit, thumb swiping over your sensitive nub in time with your fingers fucking in and out of you. You're so wet that the schlicking noises boom in the otherwise quiet room, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on even more, "Then I'd sink down on that big, fat cock. It's big, isn't it? I know it is. Can see the outline of it in your jeans."

"You're sick, baby," Eddie loses composure but only for a moment, slicking up and down his cock almost languidly, not quite tight enough to send him reeling but just enough to feel nice, so that he doesn't fuck himself over and come too quickly, "That pretty little mouth needs shutting up."

"Maybe you should do it for me, then," You're bouncing off of each other in an odd fight, and you're unable to tell if you're both equally as submissive or equally dominant, "Stuff those fingers in my mouth and choke me. You freaks are all into that shit."

Eddie can't help the groan that escapes him at that, almost admitting defeat, squeezing his cock a little tighter, hips betraying him and fucking up into his fist, the name calling always did it for him, "That makes you a freak too, no? Wanting me to choke you with your cunt stuffed full."

"Maybe it does," You shrug, fingers slipping in and out of your wet pussy like it's nothing, and you grow frustrated, "Don't feel full enough, Eddie. Wish you were here, your dick would slide into my soaked pussy so easy. You'd love it, I promise. I'd let you be so rough, wanna feel you in my throat you're that deep."

“You’d like that, babygirl? Like my big cock rearranging your guts?” Eddie gasps, hand flying up and down his cock with a renewed fervor, the wet noises of his lube covered hand ringing through your ears down the phone, and you’re gasping out loud, crooking your fingers to seek out that spongy spot.

“Mmph,” You garble in return, and Eddie’s deep chuckle has you clenching around your own fingers, thumb slipping over the soaked nub of your clit, sending you reeling, body like a livewire. Eddie always had such a mouth on him even in public, you might’ve known he’d put it to good use in the bedroom.

“You’re such a good slut for me, aren’t you? You’ll let me take that tight pussy whenever I want, yeah?” Eddie’s demeanor doesn’t falter, as he focuses his attention on the mushroom tip of his cock, fist twisting around it until his hips are bucking up.

“Anytime, Eddie. I’m your dirty slut,” You cry, the slick sounds of Eddie’s hands on himself making your skin burn up, doing things to you that you never expected. He’s insatiable, knows what you want before you even know yourself, knows just what to say and how to say it to get you going.

“Oh my fucking god, y’r killing me, sweetheart,” Eddie groans, watching as the head of his cock slides through his fist, stomach coiling and muscles tensing, “Wish it was your cunt I was fucking right now, need it, baby.”

You whine in response, the slick from your pussy drenching your inner wrist as your fingers sink in and out, making a mess of yourself and the sheets, “Gonna fuck me in the van before school tomorrow, Eddie? You promise? Make a mess of my needy pussy?”

“Shit, you want that?” Eddie’s stuttering over himself now, gasping and clamping his hand down at the base of his cock to stop himself from coming on the spot, “Wanna go to class full of my jizz? Leaking down your thighs in that pretty little skirt?”

You nod. It’s redundant because he can’t see you but you don’t care, “I’m gonna come, Eddie. Keep talking to me like that please,” You plead, thumb relentless on your own clit as your body starts to wind up in a tell tale sign of an impending orgasm, fingers crooking and just barely reaching your g-spot, you ache for Eddie’s skilled fingers inside of you, finding all the spots you struggle with.

“Right there with you, sweetheart,” Eddie moans, throwing his head back and baring his throat, hand going straight back to working his cock, fist tightening, chasing his own high, “Can’t wait for you to ride my cock, like the good fucking girl you are. Tell me you wanna take it,”

“Wanna take it, Eddie,” You cry, walls clenching sporadically on your own fingers, tummy coiling up tight, “Wanna feel you in my guts, fuck, fuck,”

“That’s it, sweet thing. Come thinking of my fat dick in your tight pussy, pounding it ‘til you can’t take it anymore,” Eddie’s hips fuck up into his own fist, precum weeping from the slit of his cock, “Baby, you’re gonna make me come. Come with me, yeah?”

“Ed– Eddie!” You squeal, tummy unraveling as you come, unable to handle Eddie’s words any longer, clamping your thighs together uncontrollably as you gush all over your fingers, making a mess of yourself – the receiver drops from between your ear and shoulder, but you still make out Eddie’s gruff moan of your name as he spills into his own hand.

You lie there momentarily, catching your breath as you slide your soaked hands from your soiled shorts, grimacing as the cold, wet material snaps back onto your puffy cunt. You pick up the receiver, “Still there?” You ask quietly, trying hard to contain your smirk.

“Pick you up at seven tomorrow for school?” Eddie pants down the phone, trying hard to ignore how good you sound after coming for him, in fears his cock will kick up again too quickly. He needs to ask before you hang up and it becomes a forgotten thing that’ll never happen.

You grin, rolling your eyes, but your belly does flips thinking of Eddie’s big hands all over you, thinking of getting to see his cock for the first time, “Okay... bring condoms.”

“So long as you bring your pretty ass in that tight little miniskirt.”

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #my fanfic #mine #smut #x reader #joseph quinn x reader #joseph quinn smut #joseph quinn x you #joseph quinn fic #candy’s smutty stocking stuffers

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daycourtofficial · 7 days

Text

We started alone, in the end we’re okay

| Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Rhys’s sister!reader

| Summary: on a rare night alone, Eris reflects on the loneliest night of his life, and how he’s a long way from the person he had to be.

| Author’s note: yes this is inspired by Pretty Little Girl by Blink-182 how’d you know the last 45 seconds of that song are everything to me

| TW: mentions of physical abuse, blood, death

| WC: ~2k

Servants bustled up and down the halls of the Forest House, preparations being made for the Starfall holiday, one he and his family won’t be attending.

He was the only one left in the house - you had taken the kids to Night a day early so they could have a sleepover with their cousins. Meanwhile Eris had a meeting with some advisors in the morning he was unable to reschedule.

Eris strode toward his chambers, his long legs carrying him through the halls that have been the only witness to his comings and goings during his long life. He walked a path so familiar to him he could be reincarnated and still, his feet would carry him where he needed to go.

He had broken tradition when he became high lord, opting to stay in his previous chambers over taking Beron’s previous ones. He wanted to burn those rooms down, wanted to feel his fire consume every remaining remnant of Beron on this plane of existence.

He turned it into additional servant’s quarters instead. His father would have hated it. Lucien was delighted at the news.

Walking through his chambers, a pang echoes through him at the missing toys across the floor, especially the wooden sword he had been tripping over all week, asking Atlas to put it away, his request falling on deaf ears. The floors looked so empty, the room too quiet, despite his children being gone for only a handful of hours.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he breathed in deeply, the scents of his family already several hours old, the rooms slightly colder without their body heat warming them, especially the younger ones, unable to properly regulate their powers yet.

He poured himself a glass of whiskey, sitting in the old leather chair that’s been in this room as long as he has. His amber eyes roam about the room, taking in every detail, despite very little physically ever changing about the room.

His mind wandered, opening doors into his past he had sealed shut. Doors he would give anything to forget where they sit, doors that he can hear screams from the other side of.

Without intending to, he stumbles through one of those doors, perhaps the largest and most foreboding of all.

The rag made a disgusting squishing noise as it met the tile of his bathroom. The pile was growing larger, his blood seeping out of the rags onto the floor.

He braced his hands on the counter, fingers gripping tightly to the marble counter, sucking in a breath through his teeth, trying not to think, to feel.

He grits his teeth, grinding them together as he pours more alcohol on the fresh rag, preparing himself for the sting.

He quickly placed the rag on his back, a small gasp coming from his lips at the pain. He bites his lip hard enough to draw blood, and he sparks a flame on the tile, needing something to distract him.

He skitters the small flame across the floor, rubbing the rag across his torn and shredded back, the alcohol seeping into his wounds, sterilizing them from Beron’s cruelty.

If only he were given the same treatment.

He closed his eyes, breathing deep and slow, trying to stop the images flashing behind them.

Lucien, his baby brother, the best of them, running through the woods, intentionally taking the paths most covered in root.

Lucien, whose long hair resembled Eris’s, and whenever they smiled, they both had the ability to unsettle people.

Lucien, who was slightly taller and stockier than his big brother. Lucien, who spent his young and vulnerable years searching for Eris in every room. Lucien, who Eris took on walks through the woods, teaching him how to snare rabbits.

He was too late to save his lover, had barely arrived in time to send word to Tamlin and redirect Lucien’s running towards the border with Spring.

He had warned and warned and warned Lucien not to test Beron, that he would fail as a father, fail to do the right thing every time.

Lucien, the snarky bastard, could never resist biting back, always testing the boundaries of those around him.

Eris wasn’t surprised when his father had called him to his office one night, desperate for answers to how any son of his could dare be enchanted by a lesser fae. He was, however, more than surprised at Beron’s ridiculous plan for punishing Lucien: forcing Lucien to watch as they killed Jesminda and then killing Lucien.

He couldn’t look at himself, couldn’t believe that they had gotten here, to this point, to this ridiculous sham of a family.

He didn’t know what he was doing until the knife was in his hand, blindly sawing at his hair until the ground around him was covered in strokes of red.

He ignored the throbbing in his back as he moved his hands, ignored the warmth spreading down his back as the wounds reopened. The hacked hair began coating his chest and sticking to the blood on his back.

He stood in a pool of his past, years and years of decay around his feet, a ghost looking back at him in the mirror.

At least his hair was dead before he took the blade to it.

There was no sign of his brother in his reflection. Just a short crop of red hair and some creature looking back at him. Something new roared beneath his skin, some new sense of purpose.

He dropped the knife, the blade clattering against the floor, the sound echoing through the room, but he couldn’t hear it over the rushing of his thoughts, the one thought consuming him.

He knew what he had to do. He would kill Beron. For Lucien, for his mother, for his brothers, for Jesminda.

For himself.

He walked out of the bathroom, into his chambers, opening the large window. The wind was sharp on the wounds on his back, but he couldn't help being drawn into the night sky before him.

An endless sea of stars above him, ones he knows are watching him make poor decision after poor decision. But still they call to him in some language he can’t understand, something deep within him yearning for their company.

He put on a loose shirt, the fabric suffocating his wounds. He slipped through the open window, the night sky infinite before him. Treading through the woods, he walks through unmade paths, paths that one day his children will forge in these woods.

They will never know the path he took that night, searching in the moonlight for a body, disrespected and desecrated. It took him a few hours, but he found what remained of her, parts of her body missing from predation. He waves his hand to shoo off some birds, their annoyed caws growing softer as they flew away.

He uses the shovel he brought to break ground, the wounds in his back that had began healing reopening, fresh blood mingling with the sweat dripping down his back.

All he could feel was the night air, somehow colder without his brother. His hands blister as he digs and digs and digs, offering penance for an atrocity not of his own.

He didn’t know why he did it. Maybe it was the right thing to do, even though Eris was never able to properly discern between right and wrong. Was it out of respect for Jesminda, whose last moments were filled with nothing but terror and the worst the fae had to offer? Was it out of mourning for Lucien, his youngest brother gone forever? Was it penance for all the terrible things he had done in his life so far?

He pulls himself out of the hole, grunting as he gets out of the grave. He looks into it, thinking how easy it would be to just bury himself instead.

Will this be his end? A burial under the cover of darkness by someone he hardly knows?

Knees meet the dirt, his hands moving to her face. He never knew her, not really. Met her in passing at one of the markets in town. She gave him some pastry, her little stall so homey despite its impermanence.

Her eyes are open, not seeing anything. He offers a prayer to the Mother - for Jesminda, for Lucien, for everyone who comes into Beron’s orbit. He asks for safe passage for Jesminda, into whatever afterlife exists.

He closes Jesminda’s eyes, his movements slow and deliberate. He takes her arms - what’s left of them - crossing them against her chest. He fishes from his pocket, putting a gold coin in one hand and an apple in the other.

Food for the journey, to nourish the soul. Gold for enlightenment, a hope that Jesminda will receive some peace in the journey before her. He delicately kisses her on the forehead - a last touch, performed with love and selflessness. Words never before used to describe Eris Vanserra, words that won’t be used to describe him for centuries to come.

He gently scooped her into his arms, taking care to keep her head from rolling back. It shouldn’t matter. It didn’t matter.

Except to Eris it did.

He walked with her over to the grave he had dug, gently lowering himself into the grave. His knees bent, delicatelt placing her on the ground as his chanting continued, pleading for safe passage, for a better ending than this. For an opportunity to come back, for her to get anything better than this.

Her body presses into the ground, relaxing into what will be her final resting place. Eris climbs out of the grave, peering down at his brother’s lover. His brother’s hope for the future, cruelly ripped from him by their father.

He grabbed the shovel, beginning to scoop dirt over her. It felt wrong to do so without Lucien or an audience. But it had to happen.

Once the grave was completely covered, Eris walked over to a patch of asters, using the shovel to scoop several of the flowers up. He lowered them onto her grave, a marking of sorts as he patted the soil around it so the roots would stay in place.

He looked at the asters, their purple hues looking so bright in the moonlight. Words are on the tip of his tongue, begging to be let out to pay some form of respect for Jesminda.

But nothing comes out. After a long time, the inly noise around him the chirping of insects, he turns, treading back to the Forest House. His footsteps are quiet, but much heavier. He finds his window easily, taking one last look towards the night sky, wondering what their everlasting gaze would have to say about what they’ve seen before slipping back into his room.

But Eris isn’t there anymore. Many sleepless nights had been spent since then gazing at the stars, dreaming of a better life. Dreaming of the day he would get to see Lucien again, silently asking the stars for any help they could provide.

Eris never put much faith into the Mother, assuming she had forsaken him and left him to be on his own. Until he met you. You who walked on stardust and moonlit skies. You who facilitated a reconciliation between himself and Lucien.

Eris’s fingers push through his short hair, reminding himself of how far he has come since that fateful night. For the first time in a long time, his fingers ache to feel more length.

#eris vanserra x y/n #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra x reader #eris x y/n #eris x you #eris x reader

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outerbankies · 29 days

Note

“it’s late, come back to bed.”

PROMPT CELLY GO BRRRRRRRRR. thank u for requesting this one (forever ago) bestie!!!! 💓🤩👯‍♀️

—

new light: space and time

rafe x reader, part of the 2k prompt celly for new light (masterlist if ur not up on NL). we’re back in the present!

A stubborn knot about the size of a fist had settled into place at the top of Rafe’s spine slowly over the last few weeks, right in between his often-taught shoulder blades.

He guesses it was during the late nights like these that it began to form, when he’s hunched over his sketching table in the garage lit only by the warm lightbulb in the work lamp over his head—drawing and erasing and scrapping to start over again and again. Or when he’s on his laptop tinkering with his website or any of the platforms he uses for invoicing and processing orders, easily his least favorite part of all of this, until his eyes are irritated and red.

Though it’s certainly not made better by the other half of his day, where he’s hunched over or crouching under his projects as he brings them to life, doubting himself the entire time, twisting himself into weird angles just to make sure everything holds and looks how he pictured it. But at least he likes that part.

A hand, holding a warmth that Rafe can feel through the cotton of his long-sleeve t-shirt, settles directly into place over that knot at the top of his spine, and he feels himself take a deep, steadying breath as he leans back into your touch.

“What’s this, baby, the built-ins?” you ask, your voice softer in these midnight hours.

“Yeah,” Rafe sighs, immediately rubbing his hands into his eyes, his knuckles turning his vision bleary momentarily. “For Beau’s friend.”

“Mmm,” you hum, slightly digging the heel of your palm into his back. Rafe lets out a groan. “There?”

“Right there,” he confirms, letting his head drop back gratefully, accepting a few sleepy kisses once he goes.

You place your other hand on his shoulder for some leverage, leaning over him to peer at his catastrophe of a workstation. “I thought you’d already gone over the sketches with them?”

“I did,” he says. “But they go in tomorrow.”

“Right,” you nod, scrutinizing them again, looking to see if they’d changed at all. “I remember.”

“So I’m just making sure—” Rafe stops momentarily, letting out a hiss. “Careful, baby.”

The pressure on his back eases immediately, and you take to rubbing your hand across the span of his shoulders instead. “Sorry. What were you saying?”

“I’m just making sure I have everything down,” he continues, leaning forward again. “I wanna know my stuff before I head in.”

“What if I quiz you? On measurements and colors and finishes and—”

“I appreciate the enthusiasm,” he interjects, his smile rivaling yours when you finally settle into his lap like he’d been angling for you to since he heard the garage door open and knew he’d be getting that reprieve from the mess inside his head. “But it doesn’t really work like that, sweetheart.”

You roll your eyes, snaking your arms around his neck anyway, the pads of your fingers rubbing circular motions into his trouble spot again. “Then how else can I get you to come back to bed?”

Guilt settles into Rafe’s stomach like a rock, the soreness in his back momentarily forgotten as he sees the plea in your eyes. “I swear I’ll be up soon.”

“Rafe, it’s late.”

“Coming from you,” he retorts, virtually no bite behind his words. Because as Rafe had left Beau’s company months ago and only since then become more entrenched in his new job, in starting his own business, you’d seamlessly settled in at your job at the publishing house, not overworking yourself nearly as much as the two of you used to argue about. Still more than Rafe would ever prefer, naturally, but he’s not sure he has room to talk anymore.

“We’re turning into perfect little Figure 8 capitalists right on schedule, aren’t we?” you say, wiggling around in his lap in a way he isn’t convinced isn’t a punishment for abandoning his side of the bed a few hours ago.

You lean forward, grabbing one of the pencils Rafe had discarded and tapping it on your chin while he checks his watch, feeling his eyes widen.

“God, I’m turning into my dad.”

“No you’re not,” you laugh, still leaning out of his reach as you seem to start writing something in one the margins. You pause, pointing the pencil at the long-cold cup of coffee next to his pencil cup. “Unless there’s secretly liquor in your decaf over there. You know decaf still has caffeine in it, right?”

At Rafe’s silence, you turn to him with your eyebrows raised, the pencil dropping out of your hand and clattering onto the table.

“Like… trace amounts, right?” he asks sheepishly.

“My sweet, sweet boy,” you sigh, running your fingers through the hair on top of Rafe’s head that’s really beginning to need a cut.

“Probably need it,” he shrugs. “I’ll only be up a little while longer though. Promise.”

“You’re really worried about this one, aren’t you?” you ask him softly, some of the mirth fading in your eyes as you trace a finger around the shell of his ear.

“It’s Beau’s friend, baby, I… these guys could have anyone working on their houses. And Beau was really good to me about quitting. I just wanna nail this one and be done with it,” Rafe admits.

He doesn’t tack on the bit about how this feels like one of his first big tests; his first custom, built-in piece period, outside of the ones he’s made for his most forgiving audience, his sisters and you. Because it’s one thing to make a piece for a friend of a friend of a friend, or even to sell one in a store where someone can see it and touch it and decide that they hate it before they have to commit. But it’s another to have someone counting on him to deliver exactly what they envision, let alone someone who could be Rafe’s foot in the door to a wealth of opportunities. He wants to be done with it at this point, sure, but he doesn’t want it to be the end of this road.

“Exactly,” you say, shrugging. “They could have anyone. And I love you, Rafe, but I mean literally anyone else. But your designs are good. Really good. And your craftsmanship is impeccable. They want you.”

He feels his cheeks heating up, and knows it’s showing based on the twinkle in your eye. “You’re an expert in furniture and carpentry now, are you?”

“I am, because I’ve now lived in two Pinterest-level apartments without ever having to hire a contractor. And I’m a picky bitch,” you say, laughing around the last bit.

“You are not,” Rafe laughs. “And half of that is your decorating. Maybe 70, 75%.”

“Your modestly will never not exhaust me,” you declare, smacking one last kiss onto his lips before standing up. “You’re gonna be fine tomorrow, alright? But you’ve got to get some sleep.”

“Ten minutes?” he pleads.

“I will generously give you ten seconds instead. It’s your lucky day,” you say, shuffling toward the doorway back into the house, where two curious dogs await your return.

“Thanks,” he answers sarcastically, before standing to check everything over one last time. These guys could have anyone, he tells himself. They chose him.

He’s gathering his pencils to deposit back into the cup, just about to reach over his head and turn off his work lamp for the night when he sees it, what you’d been scribbling into the margin on one of his designs: you got this RC. hurry home!

At just the same moment that he’s he’s tracing over your loopy “y” and the heart you’d finished your note off with, you call out his name from the doorway, his family waiting for him.

You give him a saccharine-sweet smile, your arms crossed over your chest. “I wasn’t asking.”

#answered #cognacdelights #frankie so very sorry ur being tagged in rafe x reader fic but u asked for it by being my long distance tumblr mutual #new light hcs #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks fanfiction

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 1 year

Text

Oh No, There’s Only One Bed

Bradley Bradshaw x reader 2k words summary: The hotel is all booked out and now you have to share a room with Bradley Bradshaw. Worse, you have to share a bed.

there’s not much plot in this. so like dont get your hopes up. im not happy with how it turned out

prequel to “Oh No, There's An Arm Around My Waist”, can be read seperately tho

top gun masterlist

“You have got to be kidding me.”

You couldn’t help yourself, already regretting the words once they’d left your mouth. The poor receptionist played no part in this - it wasn’t his fault. You weren’t usually this rude to hotel staff.

“I’m sorry ma’am, but we’re all booked out for tonight. It’s a twin room or no room at all.”

“C’mon, we can make it work.”

You looked up at Bradley like he was out of his mind. And he even had the audacity to grin at you. “It’s just one night.”

“You can’t be serious.”

You couldn’t believe that he was actually supporting this dumb fucking idea. “We can’t share a room. We can’t share a bed, Bradshaw.”

He raised his eyebrows and you bit your lip, mentally roundhouse-kicking yourself in the face. Why did you have to be so obviously avoidant? Your fight-or-flight was kicking in at the mere proposal. It was too obvious. Were normal people as desperately opposed to the idea of sharing a bed with a friend? Probably not. So why the fuck were you?

Because maybe Bradley was not just a friend.

Because maybe you were totally in love with him. And because maybe you’d rather die than ever admit that and get rejected.

“I mean-” You scrambled for words, for a quick excuse that would make sense, that would save you from at least some of the embarrassment. “You know, like, we’re friends. Friends don’t share a bed.”

Welp, that did not work. Horrible miss. Dart stuck in the wall-kind of miss.

“I’ll build a pillow wall if that makes you feel better”, Bradley promised, failing to hide his amusement. You clenched your jaw.

You shouldn’t. You really shouldn’t.

“There’s other hotels”, you tried, desperate to find a different solution.

“Yeah”, he nodded, almost too enthusiastically. “Sure. Because those aren’t booked out.”

Alright. So maybe he had a point.

The only options here were sleeping on the floor of a subway station in San Diego or sharing a bed with him. And the fact that you actually took two seconds debating whether getting chlamydia would be worth not having to sleep pressed up against Bradley’s (warm and very comfortable) chest in a clean bed told you enough about just how far you’d fallen for him already. You were in too deep. And after tonight, you’d be a goner.

But you really, really did not want to spend the night on the subway.

“Fuck this”, you muttered, turning back to the poor receptionist who looked like he’d rather be on the subway getting chlamydia himself than here and forcefully smiled at him. “We’ll take the room, thank you.”

...

The door swung open and you blindly reached for the light switch, flipping it on before trudging into the room with your suitcase in one hand and the keys in the other.

You parked the suitcase in some random corner, threw your jacket onto the tiny table and looked up only to see that Bradley had already claimed the left side of the bed, arms and legs spread out, eyes closed. There was a lump in your throat as you watched him breathe that should not have been there. Neither should the flutter in your tummy. Neither should the heat in your cheeks when he opened his eyes and caught you staring.

“This is like some fucked up scene straight out of a shitty rom-com”, you complained - the only thing you knew how to do so you wouldn’t drool. He looked way too attractive doing literally nothing. You were not okay with that. Especially now that you had to share the bed with him.

He tucked his hands behind his head (his biceps flexed ridiculously) and chuckled.

“You love rom-coms”, he reminded you.

“Yeah, but only good ones with actual plot and characters that have personality.”

(This was, in itself, an absolute and total lie and Bradley definitely knew that. He was right - you loved rom-coms. You loved all of them. Especially the shitty ones with no plot whatsoever except “Oh we’re two idiots in love”. But you’d thought it would be much more fun if life played out like that - you hadn’t thought it would be like this.)

“You’re a bad liar”, he laughed, propping himself up on his elbows to get a better look at you.

“Am not”, you protested. He hummed.

“You definitely are.”

Then he patted the other side of the bed again. “Stop pouting and get in.”

You rolled your eyes and turned away from him, bending down to put your suitcase on the ground and undo the zipper.

“Gotta change first, Bradshaw. You can build that pillow wall while I’m in the bathroom.”

His chuckle followed you even as you closed the door behind you half a minute later and it took you longer than it should have to change into pajamas - shout out to your shaking hands - partly because you spent five minutes brushing your teeth, looking at yourself in the mirror and trying to calm your nerves by telling your reflection all kinds of reassurances. (”It’s just one night” and “If you stay on your side you won’t even know he’s there” and “You’ll both be asleep anyway”)

You almost had a heart attack when you left the bathroom again.

Because yes, Bradley was still in bed, and that in itself was stressful enough. But mainly because he’d kicked the covers to his feet and his pajamas, if one could call it that, consisted only of his briefs.

At least he had the decency to look apologetic.

“Sorry”, he said, gesturing at himself. “I don’t have sleepwear with me. I usually sleep naked.”

Because of course he did. Of course Bradley fucking Bradshaw slept naked.

“Uh”, you managed, mind completely blank. You were very, very much aware of the fact that you should say something. You just did not have the mental capacity to come up with anything whatsoever.

There was a goddamn Adonis in your bed.

If you’d thought you weren’t wearing much before (because you really weren’t, you’d expected San Diego to be warm and had only packed a skimpy little nightgown) then Bradley was wearing literally nothing.

And, well, he kind of was wearing nothing.

Couldn’t he at least have kept the covers up? But no. You knew him. He was basically a live heating pad. He’d die if he pulled them up.

“Okay”, you eventually managed to croax out, forcing your feet to work, to carry you to the right side - your side - of the bed, to flick on the lamp on your bedside table and turn off the big one, all without thinking. “Yeah, no worries.”

“Good.” He nodded his head for what had to be the better part of ten full seconds. “Good.”

The silence felt awkward. You were just sitting on the edge of the bed and he was propped up on his elbows on his side, staring holes into the air, not saying anything. Eventually he cleared his throat.

“Wanna, like, sleep?”

“Oh, yeah.” You busied yourself with the covers so you wouldn’t have to look at him, carefully sliding underneath them. “Yeah, we probably should.”

Only the rustling of the sheets filled the room until you were finally lying flat on the mattress, head resting on the pillow, and then there was silence again and you wanted to scream. This was more uncomfortable than anything else had ever been with him. Usually it was easy and light and that was why you liked him so much, that was why the two of you had initially become friends at all, but this... this was so heavy. Like something looming over the two of you that neither was addressing, just staring at it, aware that it was there but not doing anything about it.

This time, you cleared your throat, reached for the bedside lamp and turned that off too. The room was dark without it. You could only make out his contours next to you, hear the sound of his breath.

“Good night then”, you whispered, listening as his sheets rustled as well as he lay back, turning onto his side so that he was facing you. For a moment you felt the urge to do the same, but before you could even think about moving you were already swatting the idea away with an imaginary broom and locking it out of your imaginary house. Like hell you were gonna face him. Nuh-uh. You’d rather take the subway and the chlamydia after all.

“Good night”, he said softly, adjusting his hands one final time before the quiet of the night enveloped the two of you.

You tried to even your breathing, to focus on anything but him so close to you. You needed to sleep and you needed to sleep quick. But your mind was racing, your heart was beating so fast and so loud that you could hear it, your skin was burning up and you felt like you were about to lose it.

You managed about five minutes before you turned away from him, onto your side, in hopes that that would make it better.

It didn’t.

Five minutes after that, you tried lying on your stomach. Which, to nobody’s surprise, worked no better. It took almost fifteen minutes for you to find the courage to turn onto your right side, to turn so that you were facing him after all. He hadn’t moved an inch.

In fact, he hadn’t tried to sleep at all.

When you turned and caught sight of him (bare chest and messy hair and fuck) you almost screamed. His eyes were wide open, watching you, reflecting the little moonlight that was flooding through the windows.

“Jesus”, you whispered, pressing a hand to your chest as he grinned, his face mere inches from yours. “Bradley, you scared the hell out of me.”

He didn’t even react to that.

“Can’t sleep?”, he asked instead. He was so close that you could feel his breath on your skin when he spoke. You had to swallow.

“No”, you admitted. For a moment you thought maybe he hadn’t heard you, maybe he’d fallen asleep, but then he moved his arms and you felt a shiver down your spine when his fingertips brushed over the exposed skin of your arms. He wrapped one arm around your waist, his palm resting on the small of your back, and pulled you closer to him. So close that your knees bumped into his thighs. So close that your hands bumped into his torso. So close that your nose bumped into his throat.

All of them were innocent touches: chaste, easy, light. His skin was barely grazing yours. But they were enough.

Enough to go crazy over. Enough to hold your breath for a good half minute.

“Relax”, he muttered, his other hand threading through your hair and holding you just as close as the one on your back.

You swallowed hard.

“Bradley”, you murmured, not knowing just yet what you were going to say. Maybe you would have pulled away. Or maybe you would have bit the bullet and, for once in your life, taken the chance - maybe you would’ve told him right then and there just what you felt for him. Because friends certainly didn’t do this.

“We’ll talk tomorrow”, he muttered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head and immediately silencing your inner monologue. “Tomorrow. Just sleep for now.”

#top gun #x reader #top gun x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster #rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader

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toxicanonymity · 11 months

Note

when will the next raider be out?? my desperation is almost concerning at this point😪😪

J. Miller

2k / DARK raider!Joel x f!reader / raider master

mood board by @serenaxpedro

Picks up from Raider: Failed Escape.

Credits/shoutouts: @chernayawidow & commenters, rope kink anon, anal anons, prob more. switchblade gif

WARNINGS: I8+ mdni. DEAD DOVE painful skin carving, manhandling, rope restraints, dubcon via captivity, unsafe P in V, overstimulation & noncon anal creampie, fingering, angst, crying, dacryphilia, pet names.

This one is skippable (as are most) if you're not into the warnings. Just go ahead to Raider: Home (fluffier).

Joel drags you to a back room in the stash house. His cum is trickling down your thigh from the van ride as he pulls you by the elbow in your forlorn dress and the men look away obediently. The room has two cots. He throws you down on the one with the radiator behind it. Then he gets on the mattress and puts his weight on the radiator, trying to move it, making sure it's solid, not too rusted. When he's satisfied, he puts his hands on the filthy mattress, hovering over you. Your eyes try to meet his, but it's like he's looking past you. His brow furrows and he sighs regretfully.

"Ya had to run,” he laments ominously. “Why'd ya do it, sweet pea?"

"It's not you. The others, they scare me. They look at me when you turn around, and I heard-" you think better of telling him what you heard in the van, for now.

His face hardens. "You heard what?"

"Nothing"

He firmly grabs your jaw. "You better tell me right now."

"They said you couldn't watch me every second."

He lets you go and his nostrils flare as he fumes. "WHO said it?"

"Jackson. I think."

He nods, unsurprised, then takes a deep breath and cracks his neck without using his hands. "We'll deal with Jackson, I promise. Got somethin' else to take care of first."

He takes some rope out of the duffle bag. "don't need this yet if you can be a good girl for me."

He straddles you, sitting on your crotch but not with all his weight. "only take a minute." He backs down toward your feet and his warm package meets your thighs as he leans forward. He squeezes your legs together with his. Then he pulls out his switchblade and pops it open.

“What are you doing??”

“We’re gonna make sure everybody knows you're mine.” He caresses your collar bone with a calloused thumb. "So they won't hurt you." He looks at you with soft eyes. "Wanna pick a side?”

“No.” You’re too tired to think about it.

“You sure?”

“I don’t care.”

“Then we'll do both."

You whimper.

"C'mere, sweet pea. Close your eyes," he says soothingly. He bends down and holds your skin taut with his left hand while the tip of the blade begins to puncture it, sending a cold chill through you. He glances down to your nipples which have puckered to form little tents under the thin dress.

The blade digs into the skin on your right collar bone, drags, then curves. The cold heat of it burns and you squirm as he ends his first stroke. "Owwwww," you whine.

"Shhhhh. It's okay, baby. Sit still.”

He does the next stroke faster, carving one quick line to finish the J. Then he carves a tiny “x.” You manage to sit still even though it hurts worse than the first strokes: J.

"Doin' great, sweet pea. Be over in no time."

He moves to your left collar bone and carves a few straight strokes, making the beginning of an "M."

When the point of the blade comes down in a place he already carved, pain shoots through your chest, making you flinch. Joel's face goes dark then he firmly grabs you and gives you a frustrated shake against the bed.

"Stop movin', damnit. It's for your own good."

He digs his elbow and forearm into your ribcage and pins you with his body weight. It hurts, but what’s worse is that he's mad. You deserve it, though. You tried to run today and that might have hurt him.

He resumes carving. You flinch again with the first "L" and his massive hand wraps around your throat.

"What'd I just say?"

He loosens his grip enough to let you answer.

"Stop moving. But I couldn't."

"You're makin' me do this, sweet pea. I don't wanna." He lets go of your throat and picks up the rope.

He ties you down on the bed, tighter and more elaborate than necessary with the rope firmly digging into your breasts and arms. He uses a separate rope for your ankles. Then he settles back in on top of you. You admire his biceps and perfect facial hair. Such a handsome man. Such a bad man. But worse of all, so disappointed in you. You start sniffling, then the tears start falling.

"Shhhh. I know, baby. I know. We're halfway done."

He carves again and you feel a trickle of blood run toward your neck. You sob.

He pauses to look at your face and briefly tugs at the crotch of his tight jeans where a bulge is growing. He adjusts his hips and moves upward so he has to curl his spine to reach where he's carving, but can rest his hardening cock against your cunt. Arousal washes over you, numbing some of the pain.

He carves the second "L" and your back arches with the pain.

"Keep your chest still," he grumbles. "'less you wanna get real hurt."

The "E" has so many lines, so many connecting points, you can't. When the middle line connects with the vertical line, the pressure of his arm and the rope keeps your chest down but your hips lift into his, making his hardness swell against you. He pushes back with it and takes a loud breath in, then a vocal exhale.

He doesn't take his eyes off your chest as he says, "Careful, sweet pea. You'll get what you ask for and a whole lot more." He reaches back and unties the rope from your ankles. Then he spreads your legs and lays his hard bulge between them, making your pussy purr. You weren't trying to fuck him, consciously at least, but the insinuation makes you wet.

He gently thrusts against you as he carves the “R" and you manage to stay still. But then he goes back and improves some of his previous lines and the pain is unbearable. You flinch and squirm.

"God damnit, you were doin' so good," he mutters. He closes the switchblade, then pockets it. Then he shoves his hand between your naked legs, engulfing your wet cunt.

"Turn you on, bein' bad? When I'm tryin' to keep ya safe?" He plunges two thick fingers into you.

"No," you shake your head. "It just hurt, that's all." Your nose gets snotty with your tears.

He pulls out his fingers and pulls them apart, a clear string hanging between them.

"I wanna be good, I'll be good, I swear."

"You're goddamn right you will." He puts his slippery fingers in your mouth and you suck them clean.

He strokes the skin next to the J on your chest and drags his finger a few inches. “room for three more letters if ya need'em."

He starts unbuttoning his tight, stretchy jeans and your breath hitches.

"Ya know, there was a girl at that house today. Sucked some damn good cock."

It's not rational, but your heart aches thinking about him doing anything with or even to anyone else.

"I can do it," you offer. "

"Coulda left ya with FEDRA, taken her home. Woulda been easier."

You whimper. "I’m really sorry."

"There's somethin' about ya, sweet pea." He looks concerned by what he's saying. "Not everyday I make someone mine." He sighs. "But god damnit, you better behave."

You swallow and aren’t sure why you say, "Yes sir."

He raises his eyebrows. "Goddamn right. Know why?"

"You protect me"

"That's right. . . and I like takin' care of my good girl. But only my good girl, and if that ain't you, I got no use for ya."

You can't make one wrong move at this point.

He takes his imposing erection in his hand and readies himself under your dress. He wastes no time shoving it into you with such force that he bottoms out in one go. "There ya go, baby." He plunges in hard and deep, nudging that special spot inside. You moan, his eyes darken, and he repeats the motion nice and deep.

With the rope holding you still, he rails you harder than ever. His thrusts are rough, powerful bursts, not smooth or continuous. A drop of sweat falls into the carving on your chest. It stings and you whine. The rope rubs and burns your skin. But soon, he's fucking you so hard it drowns out every other feeling. His power and pace are relentless. It's the opposite of what you felt in the van. You remind yourself what he said - you come when he says. Your face contorts as you try to hold off.

"It's okay baby, you can come."

His thick cock now impales you continuously, and soon you're unraveling, clenching around his cock, the rope digging harder into your skin as your spine arches. As soon as you contract around him, he slides his hands up your stomach to your tits, groping them roughly as he keeps pounding you and your climax continues.

Then as you’re almost finished coming, he slows down and brings a hand to your clit. He starts going to town with his fingers while his cock is still inside you, fucking you in small pulses. The overstimulation has you squirming.

"Too much," you whine. Your eyes well up in tears. This is what he wants.

He picks up the intensity of his fingers. It's killing you. Your poor clit is aching to rest.

"You come when I say. And you're gonna come again."

"I can't, it's too much, it hurts."

He keeps a thumb at your clit but intensifies the thrusts of his huge cock until he's full-on railing you again. He puts your ankles over his shoulders, pounding you even deeper, the head of his cock pushing your g-spot.

You whimper, clawing at the mattress beneath you as you reach the edge of bliss again and implode with pleasure on his cock. Your body jerks and a tear rolls down your cheek.

"Good girl."

“I’m gonna be sore,” you sniffle. His face hardens. “But I wanna be good."

He pulls out and just as you're feeling some relief, you feel his wet tip at your asshole.

“Wait-” you’re not prepared for this. Joel pauses, to your surprise.

“I’ve never really done it,” you tell him, then quickly add, "but it's okay." Wouldn't matter to him if it wasn't okay, you just want points for behaving.

“Aw, sweet pea. . . try to relax for me.”

You take a deep breath and before you can exhale he slowly pushes his slippery cock into your ass. Your eyes go wide and sting.

It's hard to tell if it hurts so bad you're numb, or if it's just such a shock. He holds your legs up with his hands around the front of your thighs as he fills your body with his massive cock, claiming another hole for himself. He's prodding something deep inside you, something you didn't know about. It's like when he fucks your cunt nice and deep, but you feel fuller.

Somehow, another climax is building, and it overwhelms you. It's almost like you like the pain. He pushes into your ass again and again until finally his chest is swelling more with each breath and his grunts become erratic.

He slams into your ass once more, then pulses his warm load into your guts. As he finishes emptying his balls, you start to come. He pulls out and brings his mouth between your legs, making it far too much for you as you whimper, "Joel, please!" But the best he'll do is slow down. He won't stop until he's made you come one more time. Then, he finally puts his dick away. Your body is limp and spent.

He sits on the bed with you and holds the FEDRA handcuffs in his lap, looking at the radiator contemplatively. He whispers, "Jackson said that, huh?" The paradoxical softness of his voice makes you swoon. You're silent with regret for bringing it up.

He cuffs you to the radiator. "For your own good. Back in a minute." Joel whistles to summon your designated guard and reminds the guard what'll happen to him if anything happens to you.

It starts to sting while he's gone. Within a few minutes, Joel returns disappointed. "I'm sure he’ll be back in a few days," he says as he unties you. He squeezes his hand into his tight pants pocket to retrieve the key to the cuffs. "C'mon. Let's get away from these animals."

He packs up, grabs the duffle bag, and takes you up the hill to his trailer. On the walk, he says, "you gotta talk to me, sweet pea. Someone botherin' ya, tell me. Runnin's not the way."

Next: Raider: Home

Thanks as always for your support and engagement.

All Joel: @ethanhoewke @silkiers @eiviea @evyiione @xdaddysprincessxx @queerly-anxious @chernayawidow @ambassadortotrilliusprime @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @jasminespringtime @romanarose @fandomsfallnomore @djarinxore @lokanda @blackvelveteen1339 @manazo @wolvesandvampires @taeslarityy @str84pedro @kyloispunk @filthfairy @fieryglutenfreechickennoodles @harriedandharassed @moonlightdivine @worhols @fan-fiction-floozy @cutesyscreenname @weddingfairy @feministfanboi

Raider: @randomhoe @princessloveweird @mugshotqueen @anas-dreamer @eggnox @dindjarins-brown-eyed-girl @tulipsatmidnight @imaginary98 @zliteraturehoe @neobanguniverse

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #dark!Joel Miller #possessive!joel miller #raider!Joel Miller #raider!Joel #dark!Joel #possessive!joel #pedro pascal fic #joel miller/reader #joel miller/you #toxicanonymity ☠️#tw: noncon #tw:everything #tw: violence #cw: injury #dead dove

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soulofapatrick · 1 year

Text

The Beauty and the Brawn - Emmett Cullen x Reader

Summary: You try to prove to Emmett that he won’t hurt you with his enhanced strengths

Words: 2k

Warnings: Oral (F!recieving)

Notes: idk what this is really, just had the idea for a few days

Y/N’s POV

Emmett is strong, stronger than most vampires having gotten enhanced strength when he was changed. He’s always seen it as an added perk as it’s not something drastic like Alice’s future telling or Benjamin’s elemental manipulations, it was just that he was a little stronger than the others. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then he met me and now, as much as I tell him otherwise, he sees his strength as a curse. He gets scared he’ll get too carried away with me, forget I’m still human and accidentally hurt me or kill me. As much as I reassure Emmett that he could never hurt me he will still try and avoid the topic, kissing me the most he trust himself to do. Every time we get hot and heavy and I guide things on a little he backs up with that pained look in his eyes. Everything about him screams that he wants me back but the pain in his eyes tells me he’s scared which always catches me off guard as this is Emmett Cullen. Outgoing, loud and loving Emmett… too scared to even touch me at times despite how much his feelings were mutual.

Today is no different and I decide to take a different approach, even if it doesn’t mean sex. I just want Emmett to see that he can trust himself with me and that I’m not as fragile as he thinks. We’re sat on his bed, a bed he got Carlisle to get without specifying why. The Cullen’s don’t know me yet except maybe Alice and Edward because of their gifts but they apparently haven’t said anything to the others. Emmett doesn’t want them to all bombard me and he’s also worried about how Rosalie will take it that he’s moved on already which I understand and I agreed to take it as slow as he wants with meeting them.

Emmett’s hand is on my thighs as we sit shoulder to shoulder, watching a movie on the TV he also had installed. I’m barely paying attention to it though, focusing on his icy touch on my bare skin, being in only shorts as it’s just us here for another day to two. Emmett said the others had gone on a hunting trip and he elected to say home. I say fuck it, it’s now or never so I’m turning my body to face him, reaching over to cup his cheek and I ask, “Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do, why-“ He’s frowning until I begin shifting, moving onto my knees and turning my body towards him, “Y/N, I-“

“Just trust me baby,” I stroke his cheek reassuringly, watching him lean into my palm and those beautiful golden eyes flutter shut for a moment. With Emmett’s eyes still closed I shift my body further until I’m straddling him, legs either side of his thick thighs. His muscles tense as he realises I’m seated, arms resisting ever so slightly when I guide his hands to my hips, holding them there to show him that he won’t hurt me. The heat seems to rise between us as I lean in, lips almost touching his as I whisper, “Emmett, I trust you. I trust you with everything.”

His eyes fly open at this, the confusion and fear in them until he sees I’m not lying to him, keeping my face open and honestly so he can see the trust and love and it works as his expression softens, “Y/N.” He’s whispering, voice filled with emotions that I can’t quite decipher so I just lean forwards again and capture his lips in a gentle and pliant kiss. The kiss is tender and slow, as if we’re exploring each other for the first time. My heart is racing as I feel the softness of his lips against mine, the taste of him sweet and familiar, the tension in Emmett’s body slowly melting away as he gets lost in the kiss so I take another risk and deep it. Emmett’s hands are moving up and down my sides and back, testing the waters cautiously and the feel of his hands on my skin sends shivers down my spine, knowing I want more.

Too soon am I having to break the kiss as unlike Emmett I still need to consume oxygen. His golden eyes have darkened a little with love and desire, a soft sound leaving him when I caress his cheek gently, “Emmett,” My voice is a barely above a whisper, as if scared to break the moment, “I need you. Need all of you.”

Emmett’s eyes widen in surprise at the bluntness of my words, looking at me intently as if trying to decipher if I’m really serious about what I said. I can see the mixture of emotions playing across his face - desire; love; fear and protectiveness. I stay seated in his lap as I wait for his response, letting him work through his emotions and letting him decide. He wants me but he’s afraid of hurting me, his hands retreating again so I catch them in mine and squeeze reassuringly. His eyes flick down to our interlocked hands before back to my face before he’s swallowing and mumbling out, “Start with a shower first?”

“Whatever you want Pretty Boy.” I’m nodding, guiding one of his large hands to my cheek and pressing a kiss to his open palm before he’s surprising me and drawing me into another kiss. This one’s different, he’s not holding back as much, it’s hungrier almost. There’s an urgency to the kiss, his lips moving with more purpose as his moves to the back of my head, deepening the kiss. His other hand finds it’s way back to my waist, pulling me flush against him. It’s like he’s been holding back for so long and how he’s finally allowing himself to let go and now he can’t seem to get enough. I respond with equal fervour, my hands tangling in his hair as we explore each other’s mouths.

Emmett’s breaking the kiss before me, standing up effortlessly and cradling me in his arms as if I weight nothing which I guess I really don’t for him. I’m wrapping my arms around his broad shoulders, holding on tight as he carries me to the bathroom, feeling his muscles tense and flex under his shirt with each step. He’s setting me on the counter, a playful smile on his face and a rumble in his chest when I squeal at how cold the counter is. He’s stealing another kiss from me before moving to turn on the shower, letting it heat up and moving back over to me, standing between my legs. He’s looking at me with a soft expression, making sure this is what I really want, his hands running over my waist and pulling back slightly to ask, “You sure about this, honey?” His eyes are filled with concern and love, making me feel even more secure in my decision.

To prove my point I pull my shirt over my head and letting it fall to the floor, watching Emmett’s lips part slightly in a hitched breath at the sight of me now bare except for a pair of shorts. Emmett’s eyes are skimming over my body, taking in every dip and curve and scar on display to him. His hands coming up to gently trace along my arms and down my sides, as if savouring the feeling of my skin against his fingertips. Despite his obvious desire he still checks with me if this is okay, eyes flicking back up to mine every few seconds until I’m guiding his hands up to my breasts, watching his reaction. He surprises me by dragging me into such a tender and loving kiss as he explores this new territory.

Our bodies press together, Emmett’s hands now tracing circles on my back as he deepens the kiss, his very obvious arousal pressing into my thigh but he’s taking it slow as if he’ll spook me. His lips move down my neck as he murmurs against the skin, “You’re so fucking beautiful.” His large hands grip my hips and I’m soon standing again, feeling cold fingers dip into the waistband of my shorts.

“Please.” I’m practically begging and Emmett’s groaning into the crook of my neck, surprising me again as he sinks to his knees as he slides the shorts down my legs, throwing them aside before his gaze finds mine and I’m having to bite my lip at the sight of Emmett on his knees for me. His strong hands grip my hips as he begins nosing at my thighs, lips ghosting over them and teeth grazing until he’s nudging my legs apart enough blow cold air over my slickness, making me gasp and squirm. Before I can say or do anything those skilled lips are kissing my folds, nose bumping my clit before he licks a confident stripe up, gauging my reaction. His tongue flutters against my clit before he’s eating me like a starved man, hands gripping my hips tight enough that I can’t wriggle away from the pleasure.

My hand is gripping his hair, the other bracing myself against the counter as he moans, sending vibrations through that oversensitive bundle of nerves. He’s dipping his tongue in and out of my core with precision and sloppiness before he moves back to my clit, my body trying to jerk away but his grip is tight enough to promise bruises and fuck that just makes everything more intense. All too soon I can feel myself starting to pulse around his tongue that hasn’t stopped fucking into me and my hands tugs almost painfully at his hair while my head falls back with a whine, my thighs trying to clamp around Emmett’s head as my vision partially whites out and all I hear is white noise, unsure if I’m crying out Emmett’s name.

“Emm, fuck Emmett, too much.” I’m begging and he finally pulls back, looking up at me with half-lidded eyes and he looks fucking dirty, his mouth and chin shiny with my juices and his golden eyes have darkened even more. His thumbs caress my hips as he pulls himself to his feet moving to kiss me with a cheeky grin when I lightly push his face away saying, “No, clean your face first.”

“I do believe a shower was suggested.” He agrees and I’m nodding, tugging at his shirt to which he complies, pulling it over his head and I can’t help wet my lips at how good he looks. Sure, I’ve seen Emmett change but this is different, he’s baring himself for me and me alone. His shirt reveals his chiseled abs and braid chest, my eyes roaming over his muscular physique with appreciation. His defined biceps and broad shoulders are evidence of the immense physical strength he possesses and the way his tone torso tapers down to his waist makes me want to run my hands over his hard body. As he undresses further, my gaze is drawn to his thick thighs, my heart racing against as he’s straining against his boxers and fuck, he is in no way small. The boxers barely able to contain him, the angry red head slipped past the waistband, precum wetting his v-line a little, “Come on lovely, eyes up here.”

I tear my eyes away from his enticing bulge, feeling heat rising to my cheeks at being caught. But I can't help the desire that courses through me as I watch him step out of his boxers, completely naked before me. My heart is pounding in my chest, and I can feel the anticipation building between us as we move towards the shower. As we step under the warm water, Emmett pulls me close, his hands roaming over my wet skin as we continue to explore each other's bodies. I know this is only the beginning, and I can't wait to see what other surprises Emmett has in store for me.

-----------

Twilight Masterlist

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little-diable · 1 year

Text

Summer Storm - Dean Winchester (smut)

Written for my lovely @smellingofpoetry 400 followers celebration – congrats again, love! Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this. Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Dean and the reader are sworn enemies, enemies that keep hunting together. As Baby runs out of gas the two find themselves trapped at a beach, waiting for the summer storm to pass. Perhaps it is finally time to let go of their hatred

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, car sex, enemies to lovers, please don't be like these two idiots and go for a dip in the ocean when a thunderstorm is raging

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (about 2k words)

header by @deathofpeaceofmind

There was an uncomfortable silence lingering in Baby, filling the thick tension that grew with every breath exhaled from Dean and (y/n)’s lips. Dean had his green eyes focused on the road ahead, while (y/n) tried to follow the dark clouds moving by, gaze flickering between the ocean and the sky. They were on their way to a new town, set on finding a demon that seemed to keep the town’s citizens on their toes, forcing them to abide by its games.

It wasn’t the first time (y/n) and Dean were on a hunt without Sammy near, wasn’t the first time both were forced to spend time together, and yet they still clung to the hatred simmering deep inside of them, calling one another their worst enemy. It was pathetic, bound together by a strange kind of hatred they’ve fuelled ever since they’ve met as teenagers, sticking to their routines, trying to avoid one another at any given cost.

“What was that?” An unfamiliar sound echoed through the air, eyes snapping towards Dean to figure out why Baby was suddenly slowing down. A silent “Fuck” ripped from Dean’s plush lips, hands tightly grasping the steering wheel as Baby came to a halt on the side of the road.

“We’re out of gas.” It took (y/n) a moment to reply, eyes wide, full of annoyance as she watched Dean close his eyes, head pushed against the headrest. “Shut it, I don’t have the energy to bicker with you right now. I’ll call the nearest gas station, it shouldn’t be that far.”

With her lips parted, (y/n) gaped at Dean, not used to him speaking with words this rough, dripping with an unfamiliar annoyance. Both were all too used to their back and forth, to the words they’d growl, knowing that the other would react with matching energy. Not once had Dean backed down from a fight, not once had he pulled away, feeling a sick sense of pride in seeing (y/n) growing angry, fueled by his teasing words.

While Dean pulled out his phone, googling for the right person to call, (y/n) stepped out of Baby, letting the warm Summer air engulf her. Before she could stop herself, her feet had already started walking, sinking into the sandy beach, drawn closer as if the ocean was calling out to her, forcing the woman to embrace the salty air stroking her limbs, eyes meeting the black sky above.

It took her a moment to notice the raindrops falling from the fast moving clouds, dripping onto her frame. It felt as if the sky was crying, begging the woman to find her way back to Dean, who kept watching her from Baby. (Y/n) was all too oblivious to the way his eyes kept moving with her frame, always watching out for the woman he hated – at least that’s what he forced her to believe.

“(Y/n)!” Dean called her name, hoping that she’d find her way back to the Impala before the rain would drench her clothes, but she didn’t move. Her eyes didn’t leave the sky once, feeling a strange sense of safety, with the summer rain resting on her shoulders and head, with the roar of thunder breaking through the afternoon. For months they’ve travelled from one town to another, hunting supernatural creatures without getting a day or two to breathe. This right here is what her heart had been aching for.

“Didn’t you hear me? Come, before you get sick.” Dean’s growling voice forced her to turn towards him, watching the hunter with an almost stoic expression. For a few seconds all (y/n) did was stare at him, studying his handsome features, a face she’d curse at any given chance, not wanting to give into the pull she felt deep inside her chest. Only now did she seem to realise how tired Dean looked, exhausted just like she was, graced by the past months. “Alright, then stay here and get sick, see if I care.”

He turned from her, frozen in his step as she whispered his name. Slowly he turned back towards (y/n), watching her with raised eyebrows. “Let’s go for a swim. We haven’t been near the ocean for months, I don’t want to miss out on this chance.”

(Y/n) had started undressing before Dean could reply, wide eyes following the quick movements of her fingers. Even though his mind screamed at Dean to turn away, to find shelter inside his car, his hands started moving, pulling his shirt off his head. With only her underwear on, (y/n) moved towards the ocean, gasping in surprise as she felt his hand finding her wrist, pulling her further towards the rising waves.

Both didn’t seem to care about the danger laying ahead, bodies lured into the ocean with aching lungs and trembling limbs. The cold water engulfed them, wrapping itself around them like a second layer of skin. Neither of them dared to speak up, bodies not parting as Dean pulled (y/n) into his chest, arms tightly wrapped around her middle.

“What are you doing, Dean?” She whispered her words, eyes trapped by his piercing ones. Another roar of the strong thunder echoed through the air, followed by more drops falling from the sky.

“Not missing out on any chances.” Before she could even begin to realise what Dean was talking about, he had pressed his lips against hers. Their lips moved in sync, drawing a soft moan from (y/n), arms slung around Dean’s neck. The kiss was soft, testing the waters as the waves kept clashing against their bodies. Only as their lungs begged them for more air to breathe did they part, eyes not daring to break contact once. A bolt of lightning danced across the black sky, finally forcing the two to leave the ocean, grabbing their wet clothes.

With their fingers interlaced they ran towards the shower placed near the Impala, washing off the sand sticking to their bodies. Not one word was spoken, caught in their racing thoughts, unsure what to make of the past moments, wondering where their confidence had come from, breaking through their old patterns. The kiss had felt all too right, as if their bodies had been aching for this to happen ever since they’ve crossed paths, pushing them into their anger to protect their hearts from ending up broken in half.

“Here, this should work as a towel.” Dean pushed a clean shirt of his into (y/n)’s hand, helping her into the backseat before he rounded the car. With another shirt of his Dean also started drying his shivering body, not yet ready to break the silence. Both were sitting next to one another, just in their underwear, with their eyes focusing on anything but one another. (Y/n) was shuddering in the seat, hands moving up and down her arms in a desperate try to warm herself up as she watched the raindrops roll down the windows.

The whisper of her name filled the car, eyes slowly moving towards Dean, meeting his eyes that were filled with pain, wordlessly begging her to give in, to stray from the hatred they’ve clung to. As if their bodies knew how to tear down their walls, they moved closer, tangling them in a mess of limbs and lips, kissing one another as Dean pushed her down on the seat, towering over her. Perhaps it was their try to warm one another up, forgetting about the cold lingering inside their bodies, but perhaps it was their lust they’ve tried to bury six feet under years ago, finally giving in.

“Fuck, let me touch you, please.” Dean murmured his words against her slightly swollen lips, fingers dancing up her sides, toying with her bra. Wordlessly (y/n) nodded her head, unable to use her words with her tight throat and her dry mouth. She wasn’t used to feeling something this intense, wasn’t used to her body reacting like this to Dean’s touch, but fuck, she never wanted to let go of this feeling ever again. Her bra was tossed to the front of the Impala, long forgotten as Dean’s mouth found her chest, kissing every inch of her body, making sure to love on every part of her. “So beautiful, fuck, been wanting to touch you for years.”

His words drew a moan from her lips, eyes fluttering close to focus on his touch, on the way he kissed his way down her stomach, pushing her panties down her legs. With trembling hands (y/n) pulled Dean back up towards her for another bruising kiss, gasping as his hardening cock rubbed against her dripping cunt, giving her just the right amount of friction.

“Fuck me, Dean, need you inside of me.” Her voice trembled, struggling to form any words as Dean kept grinding his middle against hers, distracted by the heavenly feeling. With one last kiss pressed to her lips, he let go of her, reaching for his wallet to pull a condom free. She watched him free his cock, watched him roll down the condom before he aligned himself, eyes searching hers. He pushed into her slow at first, allowing them both to adjust, not used to their bodies meeting like this, moulding together.

With one hand placed next to her head Dean moved his other hand down her body, fingers finding her cunt, rubbing circles on her bundle of nerves, drawing sinful moans from her. (Y/n) was trembling beneath Dean, eyes struggling to stay open, drawn in by the intense sensation, clinging to the newfound mixture of emotions filling her veins. Her head was spinning, unsure what to focus on, on the groans leaving Dean whenever she clenched around him, on the way his eyes were filled with such an intense gaze, or the nearing orgasm he forced her closer towards.

“Feels so good, shit, don’t stop.” (Y/n) kept blabbering away, gasping for air whenever his cock met her swollen spot, unsure how long she could keep holding on. Both were urged on by the tension that had grown over the past years, bodies begging them to touch one another, finally allowed to do so, thanks to the summer storm and the gas Baby was aching for trapping them here. Her fingernails left scratches down his arms, clinging to him, needing to feel every part of him close.

“It’s okay, baby, let go, I got you.” Her moans filled the car as her orgasm clashed through her like the waves rolling ashore, a beautiful spectacle Dean couldn’t help but marvel at. He gave it a few more thrusts, letting go with a moan rumbling through him, trying not to collapse on top of her.

“Fuck, whatever that was, we need to do it again.” Dean murmured the words against her neck, face buried in the crook of it, deeply inhaling her sweet scent, mixed with the salty water still somewhat clinging to her. Her body shook beneath him, soft laughs filling her as she combed her hand through his hair, still trying to catch her breath.

Both would have enough to talk about, needing to figure out where to go from here, but for the next few moments, they’d just listen to the sound of the summer storm, to the waves roaring near, and to the singing of their racing hearts.

#Dean Winchester smut #Dean Winchester imagine #smellingofpoetry400celebration #supernatural imagine

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loveshotzz · 1 year

Note

🤔 surprising virgin Eddie w roadhead ?

Anything for my twin! (We’re both suckers for virgin!eddie and Danny D)

Eddie Munson X Fem!Reader 18 PLUS NO MINORS

warnings: virgin!eddie with experienced reader. Road head (m receiving). Slight corruption kink. Cum swallowing.

Likes, comments, and reblogs are always very appreciated.

Word Count: 2K

Whips of muggy evening air brush across your face from the open window of Eddie’s passengers seat. One hand outside you trace the curves of the road with the edge of your palm, eyes following the path of the faded street lines against the glow of his headlights. The soft beams of the moon mesh with the lights of his dashboard and when you look over they hit his face in a way that makes your heart flutter and your thighs press together.

Tonight had been date number four and you were determined to get him to do more then just kiss you. Shutting it down every time it would get too heated with the promise of next time, the nerves that jangled in the shake of his voice gave him away. You’d always figured Eddie might be a virgin having never seen him with any type of girl or guy through out the many years you’d gone to high school together. You weren’t exactly sure what happened after you’d graduated and he got held behind but you definitely knew he wasn’t pulling anybody at The Hide Out

Picking up a summer job bar backing the two of you reconnected when his band started playing their weekly gigs. Charming you with his goofiness and big doe eyes the crush you had on him for all those years came roaring back to life. So when he finally got to courage to ask you out a few weeks ago it had become harder and harder to keep your hands off of him. Quickly becoming addicted to the crimson that spread like a wildfire across his cheeks at your advances.

Messy curls blow lightly in the wind from your window and thick ringed fingers tap to the beat of the music on the steering wheel. His chocolate eyes are focused on the road ahead of him, biting his bottom lip you wonder what’s going on in that pretty little head of his. Pulling your hand back in you crank the window shut, the difference in sound ringing in your ears temporarily before the unspoken tension thickens in the van. Eyes darting to yours he gives you a shy smile before returning his attention back to the empty road.

Remembering the way he had you pressed against the van before this, hungry lips leaving a mess all over your neck and chest had you feeling bold. Tucking your hair behind your ears you take a deep breath before turning to the side in your seat. Catching your movement in the corner of his eye, Eddie looks over at you with an arched brow

“Everything good sweetheart?” Confused by the heat of your gaze you watch the beginnings of pink start to flush his cheeks.

“Yeah, everything’s great.” Grinning sweetly you place a hand on his thigh giving it a light squeeze. “Why don’t you keep your eyes on the road?”

Shooting you another confused look and a double take he gives in fixing his attention back to where it was. His grip tightening against the steering wheel, you can feel how worked up he is from your seat just from your stare.

Taking your bottom lip between your teeth, the taste of cherry from your gloss hits your tongue. Pushing your hand up the muscle of his thigh the denim is rough under your palm. Eyes catching the way his pants were already tightening you fought the smug grin that dared to break across your face.

“What- what are you doing?” Eddie’s eyes are big when they meets yours and despite his nervous demeanor you can see the same want darken the warm chestnut of his iris’s.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Pushing yourself closer your fingers ghost past the bulge that was fighting against his zipper. Trailing your way up they rest against the top of his jeans.

Swerving slightly he mutters a ‘fuck’ under his breath. Cheeks burning hot, his eyebrows furrow in concentration. His grip on the steering wheel becoming so tight the whites of his knuckles showed.

“Do you want me to stop?” It definitely didn’t feel like he wanted you to but you had to hear him say it. When he takes a minute to answer you start to pull your hand away but he’s quick. Calloused fingers grip your wrist just hard enough to stop you.

“N-no.” Letting go of your wrist his sweaty fingers stick to your skin slightly before returning back to their home on the steering wheel.

Smiling to yourself you eagerly pop open the front button of his pants before slowly pulling down the zipper. Hissing under your slow movements, Eddie exhales loudly through his nose when the restricting metal is finally out of the way.

Placing a hand on his arm rest you push yourself up so your lips rest against his ear, your close proximity enough to make him groan.

“Lift your hips up for me baby.” Making sure they brush against the shell of his ear with every word he shudders under your smooth voice.

Nodding frantically he lifts them up just enough for you to shove them below the curve of his ass. Blue and white checkered boxers are revealed already stained under the hardness of his cock that is begging to be released from its cotton confines.

Licking your lips you press an open palm against the length of him, wrapping your fingers loosely around the curve.

“Jesus Christ.” Swerving again the motion makes you squeeze him hard out of reflex eliciting another moan from his lips. The redness that takes over his cheeks you could tell he was starting to get embarrassed about how sensitive he was.

Squeezing him again you watch him bite his lip to try and keep quiet too shy to look at you in the wrecked state he was already in.

“Don’t hold back, I like it Eddie.” Reaching into the hole of his boxers your fingers wrap around the smooth skin of his cock, pulling it free you give it one hard pump before bringing your lips back to his ear. “Let me hear how good my mouth makes you feel.”

Gulping loudly Eddie’s wide eyes meet yours, a devilish pushing across glossed lips.

“Eye’s on the road big boy.” Stroking his ego a little bit to soothe some of his nerves you throw him a quick wink before lowering your head to his lap.

You weren’t necessarily stroking his ego, Eddie was big. You’d be lying if said you weren’t intimidated when you felt the weight of him in your hand, and even more so when it sat directly in front of your face. Slick starting to build in your panties at the thought of him splitting you in two with it.

Leaning further over you balance yourself on your knees on the passengers seat hiding yourself from the view of unsuspecting cars that might catch a glimpse. Gripping the base of him with a firm grip you let your lips hover over his pink leaking head. When your hot breath tickles against the sensitive skin he shudders underneath you. Brushing your lips against the tip you swipe your tongue out, it’s quick and teasing only collecting some of the salty precum that glistened on top.

“Holy fuck!” Swerving off the side of the road his bad driving is almost enough for you to lose your balance.

“Eddie, if you are going to kill us I’m going to have to stop.” Only slightly annoyed your chest swells at the power you already had over him. Looking up at him from underneath your lashes his brown eyes meet yours in apology.

“I’m good- I’ll be good. Shit, sorry.” Rubbing an exasperated hand over his face he refocuses his attention back on controlling the van.

It takes you a moment to get situated again, positioning your mouth right above his angry looking head. You let one more long breath fan over his length. Twitching in your hands you swirl your tongue around the tip collecting the rest of the pre cum before taking him into the heat of your mouth flattening your tongue along along the vein that protruded from the side.

Car jerking slightly you can hear Eddie cursing under his breath above you. Humming around him, you start to move yourself up and down in a slow and steady rhythm, tongue wrapping around his length with every bob of your head. Pushing yourself down on him till your sticky lips hit the side of your hand, it’s still enough of him to have you drooling down your chin.

The feeling of a tentative hand on the top of your head breaks you concentration, and you let him fall from your lips with a loud pop.

“Is this okay?” He sounds nervous when asks like he’s ruined the moment.

Without a word you free one of your hands from his length to guide his fingers to your hair, curving them with yours encouraging him. Bringing your attention back to his cock that stood tall and painfully hard in you hand you wrap your lips tightly around him again. Moving your hand out of the way finding a new home on his thigh you try to fit the entire length of him in your mouth.

Gagging slightly when he hits the back of your throat, his fingers tug harshly at your hair when he feels the wet walls of your mouth constricting around him. Nose pressed against the rough patch of hair at his base you twist your head from side to side sucking harder as you make your way back up his length.

The van feels like it’s moving faster then it should but the way he starts pulsating in your mouth tells you he’s close, and you can’t find it in yourself to care.

“I’m fuck- baby, that feels so good. Jesus you’re gonna make me fucking cum.” His voice sounds raspy when he talks, thick with want while your mouth continues to swallow him whole. Pushing yourself further down your eyes start watering as you gag around his length, a wet patch of drool forming on the crotch of his boxers underneath you.

Pulling the van over with a harsh crank of the wheel to the side of the road, his foot hits the break hard as hot ropes of cum start shooting down the length of your throat.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, baby, baby.” Throwing his head back with eyes closed tight his fingers slowly loosen their hold in your hair, his body going limp underneath you.

Greedily swallowing every drop you let his already softening member fall from your lips, landing on the wet spot on his boxers.

Untangling from your hair his hand rubs across his face, the intensity of his orgasm leaving him a shuddering mess. Sitting up you plop back down in your seat wiping your mouth with the back of your hand with a satisfied hum. Keeping his eyes closed with his head pressed to the against the headrest you watch him take a moment to catch his breath. When his big eyes meet yours, a shy smile crosses his lips before a laugh bubbles out. Shaking his head he adjusts himself back in his pants before putting both hands back on the wheel turning his attention back onto you.

“That was, that was incredible.” Shaking his head in disbelief he leans over encouraging you to meet him half away which you do gladly.

Pressing a soft kiss to your lips he pulls away just enough to look in your eyes, ringed fingers reaching out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. Despite having his cum in your mouth moments ago your own cheeks heat up under his gaze.

“You better get used to it baby.” Stealing one more kiss you let yourself fall back into your seat stealing on of his hands in the process, excited for whatever was next for the two of you.

@munsonmunster

#request #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfiction

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flowersandbigteeth · 1 year

Text

Meeting your lich boss

General Plot: You get a new job working for a very strange man

Lich (Lauden) x female reader

Part One, Part Two

Word Count: 2k

W: sfw monster fluff, descriptions of domestic abuse and old injuries eventually in part two, so you might not want to start this if that bothers you, yandere behavior

“These are…all…the files?” you asked the woman who hired you, Sherry, as she piled a bunch of folders on your desk.

“Yup this is it,” she said flashing you a sympathetic smile, “the last girl wasn’t much help so they are a mess. We’re lucky what we do have doesn’t have gum stuck to it.”

She put a hand on yours.

“Don’t take anything Mr. Heron says personally,” she reassured you, “he’s good looking, but he’s a dick.”

This wasn’t the first time one of your new coworkers had said this about your boss Lauden Heron, CEO of Heron Consulting. You were his new secretary after the last one had been chased out in tears. Apparently Lauden wasn’t a nice man.

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” you assured her. You were an experienced secretary. You’d worked with one of the most well known, discerning CEO’s in the area, Gloria Errolt. She was a titan in the shipping industry, energetic, and had put you through your paces. Now you were a confident, professional who could handle any situation set in front of you no matter how challenging.

Sherry glanced at her watch.

“Oh, I’d better make myself scarce, he’ll be here soon,” she said, then looked at you apologetically, “I’m sorry…I mean…”

You waved her away and gave her a placating smile.

“I’ll be fine, Sherry,” you assured her.

She winced at you, but nodded and scampered away.

You flipped through the files, quickly organizing them by date and urgency based on what you had already learned from Sherry about Lauden’s accounts. You were a really good secretary and had them quickly in perfect order.

As the doors to the executive suite opened, you hopped up to greet your new employer.

“Good morning Mr. Heron,” you beamed, sticking out your hand, “I’m (Y/N), your new secretary. I look forward to working with you. If there is anything at all I can do to make your life more streamlined please let me know.”

The man in front of you was huge with broad shoulders stuffed into an immaculately tailored designer suit. His blonde, almost white, hair was cropped and slicked into a neat coiff. He was good looking as Sherry had said, but you noticed his skin was far paler than you were used to seeing. It almost looked a bit gray. He looked down his straight nose at you with disdain in his ice blue eyes. You were confused for a moment as he almost seemed to be sniffing the air like he smelled something foul.

“You?” he asked flatly, raising an eyebrow.

You frowned and pulled your hand away, smoothing your pencil skirt.

“I assure you I come with the best qualifications,” you explained, “I graduated from (Y/C) and worked for Gloria Errolt for five years. I’m sure you’ve heard of her.”

He thought for a moment, but his eyebrow didn’t lower.

“Yes, I suppose I do know Ms. Errolt,” he said, his voice deep and crisp.

You picked up a notepad from your desk and a pen.

“I’m here to streamline your workflow,” you said, “so I’ll need to know the personal appointments you need me to manage. Your former secretary didn’t leave me any notes on your preferences. So I’ll need to know how you take your coffee, as well, and a few other things, but baby steps. You have an appointment this morning so I can’t take too much of your time.”

He blinked at you as if no one had asked him this before. What had his last secretary been doing?

“Personal…appointments?” he asked.

You waved at him.

“Oh you know, wife I need to buy flowers for, kids I need to remind the nanny to pick up from school. Work and life overlap, I have to manage all of that for you for things to move along smoothly,” you explained, “I saw all of your appointments on your calendar, but nothing about your family. We can’t expect you to remember your wife’s birthday, can we?”

You chuckled nervously, trying to lighten the mood with a little joke, but Lauden’s mouth was a flat line.

“No.” he said as if that meant something.

“No…? What?” you asked, your pen hovering over the pad of paper.

“No,” he snapped, sidestepping you and marching into his office, slamming the door behind him.

You blinked after him. Your coworkers were right, he was kind of a dick.

It took you a few hours to strategize your next meeting with your boss. You’d worked with flighty CEO’s before. They all thought they were eccentric geniuses and had to be handled with kid gloves. Lauden’s attitude did nothing to put you off, you only needed to figure out how to approach him.

You knocked lightly on his door, carrying the stack of files you’d carefully reviewed, highlighted and tabbed where he needed to sign. Ignoring his disgruntled glare as you entered without being invited you shuffled around him, carefully laying out the files by which was more important.

“You will need to complete these this morning so I can send them off this afternoon,” you told him, then pulled out your pad, “and I’ll need to know your regular club to make reservations for lunch.”

Gloria had taught you that every CEO had lunch at a private club where they could schmooze with their peers. He examined the files, his mouth opening slightly.

“You did all this?” he asked, thumbing through the papers.

“Is there a problem?”

You looked over his shoulder for errors, but everything seemed in order.

He frowned.

“It’s all organized…and labeled.”

That sounded a bit like an accusation but not a complaint so you ignored it.

“Your regular club?” you prompted. You couldn’t let CEO’s get lost in their own thoughts. They had a tendency to be flighty and needed to be redirected or you would never get them back on task.

“No.” he grunted.

You looked down at him.

“You prefer to eat at your desk?” you asked, surprised.

“I don’t eat,” he hissed and your eyebrows went up.

“Ooookay,” you said, jotting that down on your notepad, no family, no food.

“You know, sir. I’m extremely discrete. You don’t have to worry about me sharing any of the details of your personal life, I’m here to make things easier for you.”

“Get out!” he snapped.

You folded your notepad in your hand and marched back to your desk. He was a tough cookie, but you were going to figure him out. You’d figured out Gloria and you’d get him too. You were a really good secretary.

The next few weeks you enacted your plan of being the world’s best secretary, but you couldn’t help but notice some strange things about Lauden.

One, he appeared to have no family or friends. He didn’t make or take any personal calls. He never texted anyone and as far as you could tell he didn’t even have a personal email account. No one came to visit him and he never met anyone for lunch. He simply worked through the hour as if it were any other. You knew he went straight home after work because you organized the car service that took him there.

The second strange thing was he didn’t eat. Not in a health nut sort of way, picking over calories and drinking loads of water. He didn’t consume anything...at all. You never saw him drink a cup of coffee or even eat one of the little candies you kept on your desk. You’d asked him if he preferred coffee or tea so you could stock some and he just ordered you out of his office.

Third, when Lauden did actually address you it always seemed like he was sniffing you. Occasionally you’d glance down to see him leaning into your sweater while you arranged his daily documents on his desk. You’d tried to drop hints to see if he had some problem with certain smells, but he never picked up on them. You finally stopped wearing perfume, afraid it was bothering him.

After two weeks of hard work he wasn’t any nicer to you. He ordered you out of his office as an answer to 70% of your questions, but you still plugged along, arranging his appointments and organizing his documents, doing your best to make his life easier.

Lauden thought he was going mad. You were the best secretary he’d ever had and you smelled like sugar cookies. Everywhere you went you trailed the sweet smell of sugar and vanilla behind you. It was all over his desk. In every hallway. There wasn’t a place he could go in the office to escape it.

He hadn’t eaten a sugar cookie in hundreds of years but his mouth watered every morning when you bent over his desk with his papers for the day. It was driving him insane. He wanted to fuck you then eat you.

It was unusual for many reasons. After he’d surrendered his mortal corpse and a virgin sacrifice to the dark god for eternal life he hadn’t really had a sex drive. His senses had dulled with death and his cock was one of the first things to go cold. But with you around he spent eight hours with an almost constant erection. You didn’t help wiggling around in those tight little pencil skirts.

Additionally, you weren’t his usual type of meal. He liked to suck the life force from twisted victims who really deserved their bodies to be shriveled and desicated before their eyes, while they still lived. Only after death to find themselves trapped in the limbo of a void in his chest.

He had thousands of wailing souls floating around in him begging for the mercy of release, but as long as he lived that would never happen and he could torture them for their misdeeds. He thrived off of their pain. You were too sweet to be a satisfying conquest. It would be like killing and eating a baby chick. He would never stop hearing your sad wailing inside of him and the idea was crushing.

He did his best to keep you away from him. He would have fired you if you weren’t so damn good at your job. You knew everything he needed before he anticipated it and his productivity had tripled since Sherry had hired you.

The secretary before you had no idea how to use a cloud based appointment platform that provided him with your carefully written meeting notes fifteen minutes before his appointments directly to his phone.

She’d barely been able to use a word document, but somehow you’d managed to link the database you’d created for expenses to Quickbooks to streamline the reporting process with accounting.

That was just the start.

You were a really , really, really good secretary and now that he’d had a few weeks with you, he realized the truth…he couldn’t live without you.

#monster romance #monster lover #monster fluff #monster x reader #monster x human #yandere fluff #male yandere #yandere x reader #x reader

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k-slla · 4 months

Text

You let go of me, so let me go.

A/N: part 2 of Hello, Goodbye. - I was sent an ask by anon, who thought that in the first part Jensen threw everything away too easily and should have some regrets- so now he does. But it's a little too late already.

This is also the one I did the poll for, but I've decided not to use any certain characteristics for Tom, so you can imagine here any Tom you want (for me it's Hardy 🤍 but Hiddleston, Holland or I'm sure even Selleck would work- whatever floats your boat😘)

Warnings- language, angst, fluff

WC: ~2K

My Masterlist

Dividers by @saradika-graphics

As always- feedback is golden! 🤍 All mistakes are mine.

Hope you'll enjoy!

You arrived at Gen and Jared's home and waited at the door with Tom. It was their annual New Year’s dinner party again. This time Jared didn’t allow you to miss that. In his words he had “just been lenient with you” last year, because your divorce from Jensen was so recent, but now you had no excuses not to go.

You squeezed Tom’s hand hard. “Wait.” You said anxiously when he almost started to knock.

“What’s wrong, Doe?” Your felt insides melt a little hearing him say his nickname for you.

“I’m a little nervous. Jensen’s probably going to be here and I haven’t really heard from him since…you know?”

You felt dumb for being all worked up for such a thing. He was the one who wanted to divorce. And even though you initially reacted rather calmly at that, it really got to you when you had moved out from your sister’s and got your own place. For months, you waited and hoped every day for that one phone call from him telling you that he'd made a mistake. That he regretted leaving you. But it didn't come and as the weeks went by, you started to think about him less and less.

For a while you just kept to yourself, stayed home, and tried to get used to living alone again. Well, you were alone a lot even when you were married to him, but this was different from that. Call it a force of habit, but your mind still wandered around, thinking when he'd be home again, and unconsciously every now and then you reached for your phone to call or text him. It took a lot from you to completely get over him, but you managed to do just that.

And now you had Tom, who stood like a rock next to you, when you slowly took your time to climb out of the hole that Jensen had thrown you into.

“I am right here with you. Take a deep breath.” You looked into his eyes that almost sparkled, illuminated by the porch lights. He breathed deeply in sync with you, calming you down.

“Ready?” You squared your shoulders and sucked in a quick breath.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.”

Both Jared and Gen welcomed you with big smiles on their faces. “Y/N, hi, you look gorgeous! Tom, so glad you could make it, too!” Gen offered both of you flutes of champagne.

“Thank you, sweetheart, you do, too. We’re glad to be here, Gen!” You smiled back at them, but Jared eyed you with suspicion.

“Well, I couldn’t help but to come when I've heard such stellar things about your parties.” Both men greeted each other with a quick pat on their shoulders. Gen blushed deeply at the compliment and pulled both of you into the house. Jared hanged a little back.

“Y/N.” He called after you when you started to walk into the house. “Go on, I’ll be right behind you.” You smiled at Tom and placed a quick kiss on his cheek.

“As you say, dear.” He turned to follow Gen to the kitchen.

Feeling Jared’s eyes on you, you started to anxiously fiddle with your clutch. “Y/N, how are you?” He knew exactly what buttons to push to get you talking. But you didn’t want to make him worry, not more than he already is all the time.

“I’m okay.” You kept your eyes down because you knew he’d see right through you.

“Are you really? It’s about seeing Jensen again, right? You know…” he lowered his voice just a little. “He’s not doing very well. He was nervous about seeing you, too.”

Involuntary scoff slipped past your lips. “Well, as I said, I am doing okay, couldn't care less of him.” You snapped a little too harshly and apologized immediately. “I’m sorry. I just... I don’t really want to talk about him today.”

You turned around and almost bumped into Jensen. “Sorry!” You smiled at him quickly, brushing off the fact that he probably heard your and Jared's conversation. “Hi, Y/N! You- you look beautiful.” You saw hesitation in his eyes. “Can we please talk for a second? I really need to-”

“Sorry, Tom's waiting for me.” You pointed behind him towards the room where Tom was making small talk to other guests. The truth was, you just didn't have anything to say to him. Not something nice anyways. Jensen didn't push for more, just nodded sadly and walked past you. “Right. Okay then. See you later.”

You took a deep grounding breath and plastered a smile on your face when you joined Tom and other quests. You tried to blend into the conversation, but couldn't really pay attention to them. Tom saw you zoning out, and pulled you aside and guided you out to the garden.

“Hey, is everything alright?” He waited patiently. You moved closer to him, silently asking for him to hug you. He wrapped his arms around your small frame and you closed your eyes, enjoying his body heat that was now surrounding you.

Finally you managed to speak. “I ran into Jensen just now. He wanted to talk.” Your voice was quivering a bit. You wanted to think it was from cold, but you knew inside that it was not.

“And?”

“And what?” You were confused.

“Did you talk to him?”

“No.”

“Are you going to talk to him?”

Your eyes focused on the vapor from your breaths floating around you, almost if the answer to his question was to be found there.

“No.” Your heart felt heavy, saying it out loud. He pulled you in thighter.

“But maybe you should?” He asked cautiously. You weren't expecting his reaction to be…that.

“What? You really think so?” You looked up at him surprised.

“Hear me out, dear. Just listen to what he wants to say. I know that it might be hard, but maybe it will be good for you, too?”

You were thinking hard at what he said. Maybe it would be good for you. But you're not going to look for him. If he wants to try to talk again, you'd listen, but that's it.

“Ugh, I hate it when you're right.” You smiled through the quick kiss you pressed on his lips.

You and Tom went back inside the house and Jared immediately pulled him along to play charades they had going on. He was a little bit hesitant at first, but quickly let it go. You settled on the couch in the corner to relax and cheer him on from the sidelines.

While you were quietly sipping your champagne, you saw Jensen approaching again. Now that you got a good look at him, you saw that he really did not look very well. He looked at you expectantly, waiting for permission to sit down.

You looked at Tom, who gave you a quick encouraging wink, and then you turned to Jensen again. “You can sit down, I'm not gonna bite you, you know.”

“Can we maybe go somewhere more private?” You really were not looking forward to this talk, but decided it would be best to try and be open-minded.

“Alright, we can go outside. I'll be right there.” You put on your jacket and walked out to the outside seating area.

Jensen was sitting down already on a garden bench, and clearly hoped you'd join him there, but you decided to give yourself some distance and sat down on a chair a bit farther.

“Y/N, I am so fucking sorry about everything.” He stared into your eyes and you didn't turn away your gaze either. “I- I love you, and I miss you so much, sweetheart. I have now realized what a huge fucking mistake I've made.” You cringed internally at his nickname he'd given to you when you were still together.

“Is there any way possible that you still feel the same? That we might still have a chance?” His voice was quiet, broken.

You stared at him in disbelief and felt yourself almost burst from frustration. “Are you serious?” You kept your voice at a quiet tone and you knew he must've heard it the wrong way, when he looked at you hopefully. And you knew you were going to crash it. Did he deserve it? Maybe, maybe not. Tears started to prickle in your eyes.

“Where do you get the audacity to come here and tell me that you miss me? Tell me that you still love me? It has been over a year, Jensen.” You breathed in and out deeply through your nose, to keep your tears at bay. “Where were you, when I left you countless messages, wondering, where you are, when you were just blatantly ignoring me? Oh, right....” His eyes fell down to the ground.

You went and sat next to him, waiting for him to look up. But he didn't. “Look at me.” You begged him and he finally did. “Where were you 8 months ago, when I still hoped for you to call to say that you've made a mistake? Where were you then, when I was still waiting every day for you to come back to me?” Jensen turned away again.

“I didn't know tha-'' you cut in before he could finish his sentence.

“You didn't know what? That I still loved you, even after you broke my heart? You knew that I did, I even told you that then.” You couldn't control your trembling voice.

“You could've called..”

“Oh, please, I have more self-respect than to go beg for someone to take me back after I've been dumped.”

He looked at you, brows knitted together. “That's not what I meant, you know that.”

You stood up from the bench and looked down at him. “Doesn’t really matter anymore. You're a year too late to come here to talk to me. I have finally moved on and I’m actually happy. As I said then - I want the best for you, but you can honestly now go screw yourself for even thinking that I’d take you back.”

You turned to leave, not waiting for his answer, and saw that Tom was waiting for you by the door.

“Ugghh..” you groaned loudly, letting him clearly know, how the conversation with Jensen went. “You probably heard everything, right?” you looked up at him.

“I wasn't eavesdropping, if that's what you mean,” he kissed your temple. “But yeah, I caught the last bit. You okay?”

You let out a deep sigh. “Not right now, but I will be, I guess.” He held you still in his embrace.

“Do you want to leave? I'm sure Jared and Gen would understand.”

“No, that would look.. I don't know…cowardly. I'm not afraid of being here with him. I just wish…” you stopped to think what to say, and finally sighed. “-I didn't have to see him tonight.”

You heard heavy stomps in the snow behind you, and a second later, Jensen walked into the room without another word. Tom didn't even have to say anything, you already knew exactly what he was thinking. “Were you too hard on him?” Like it mattered now.

You smiled at him, but it didn't reach your eyes. “He'll get over it. I did.”

You let go of him and took his hand into yours. “Let's take a little walk, before we go back.”

You were walking in silence around the snow covered garden, occasionally throwing a look up at the starry night sky.

You knew you weren't lying to Jensen. You really were happy again. You stopped so suddenly that Tom almost slipped when he continued walking. You pulled him back, and put your arms around his neck, gently pushing your fingers through his hair. With your eyes closed, you kissed him sweetly before whispering close to his lips: “Thank you.”

“For what?” He smiled down at you.

“For everything. I love you.”

Finally you could say for sure that Jensen and everything he did was put behind you, and you could look forward to your future with Tom.

Tags: @jackles010378 @cevansbaby-dove @alternativeprincess94 @deanwinchestersgirl87

#jensen ackles #jackles #jensen ross ackles #spn cast #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles fic #jensen x you #x reader #x you

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elliereject · 7 months

Text

angel .1

* ellie meets you at a party and is immediately enamoured, events pursue which cause her to fall for you even more because you’re just so sweet and nice and perfect for her in every way! practically an angel, except..you’re not.

* absolutely whipped loser!ellie, soft dom!femme reader, meanish!reader, thighriding, oral!e receiving, uhhh pretty sure that’s it lmk if I missed anything.

* shits been in my drafts for a month, there’s gonna be a second part I just dk..how I want to continue this (should’ve made it a oneshot but we’re in too deep now), this was based on beabadoobees Angel so don’t be surprised if it gets a little angsty..also guys plz stop unfollowing me _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): I’m inconsistent but I follow thru! more coming soon ty for the love <3 PLS PLS for the ppl who want to be on my perm taglist LMK!!

* mdni

* wc ~ 2k

★ white angels come, intoxicate my blood.

Pure, innocent, kind, delicate, beautiful.

Those were the words that spun through Ellie’s mind when she first laid her jade-green eyes on you.

An angel.

It didn’t help that the blue glare of the LEDs that illuminated the crowded living room highlighted you so divinely it looked like you were glowing.

You sat next to some stupid guy, letting out soft giggles as he showed you stupid niche memes from some stupid ass game.

She was infuriated, at him, but also, a tad bit, you. How could you sit there and laugh so beautifully when she was but a few feet away from you? She knew she could make you laugh so hard the cherry-flavoured seltzer you’d been nursing would shoot out of your nose, she could be way better than him.

She needed to get close to you, to get to know you, to have you.

Determined, she rolled up the sleeves of her signature dark red flannel so her forearms were on display, (the tattoo always had girls swooning) tucked that one defiant piece of hair behind her ear, and snubbed out the roach she’d been smoking onto the ashtray next to her before hoisting herself up off the couch to walk over to you.

When you saw her approaching you, you greeted her with such a sweet smile she could practically feel her teeth start to rot.

She shot the poor guy a piercing glare that said get the fuck outta here before I make you. and he scrambled away so fast you didn’t even get to say bye.

But god was talking to you even better than she had imagined.

You told her your name after she asked and complimented her tattoo when she complimented your smile. You traced your manicured nails over the dark ink and when that damn strand of hair fell from her ear again you tucked it back without a second thought. If she wasn’t completely whipped before, she was now.

After talking for what felt like an eternity (2 hours and 17 minutes), the music that had previously been semi-quietly floating through space was abruptly turned up and she had to strain her ears immensely to hear your soft voice, so you fidgeted with the gold necklace draped around your neck and averted your gaze when you asked her if she wanted to take the conversation somewhere more quiet, more private.

She immediately agreed, trailing behind you like a moth to a flame as you gracefully made your way up the frat house’s stairs toward an empty bedroom and she tried desperately not to watch the way your hips swayed and ass moved in that flowy pale blue dress you had on, but she was no better than a man.

She closed the door behind the two of you and felt her heart constrict when she turned to see you sitting on the bed, patting the spot next to you, signalling her to join you.

She sat down and tried to discreetly wipe her sweaty palms on her jeans. She was nervous, and she never got nervous. She was Ellie Williams for Christ’s sake, girls practically dropped their panties whenever she flashed them that suave smile and her gorgeous green eyes, she was a stonecold playgirl.

But this time it was her turn to drop her panties—uhh, boxers. She had just met you and you were already turning her into mush, hell, she was ready to bark if you asked her to.

this can’t be healthy, she thought.

Regardless, her breath quickened as your hand interlocked with hers and your face inched closer and closer, your glossed lips fanned over her slightly chapped ones as your other hand lifted to her cheek, tracing over the array of freckles that dotted her face.

Her eyes locked with yours as you whispered loud enough for her to hear, “Can I kiss you?”

She doesn’t think she’s ever acted so fast in her life, her lips immediately fell into yours as your eyes fluttered closed. Surprisingly, she found herself opening her mouth to let you in, your tongue dancing with hers, swirling around her mouth like you were fucking born to kiss her. If it wasn’t for your hand holding hers, she’s pretty sure she would’ve started floating upwards.

You tasted just as she thought you would, like cherries and candy floss and heaven and light and happiness and—

You pulled away and distress immediately flashed over her features,

did her breath stink?

was she, not a good kisser?

were her lips too chapped?

You giggled softly at her demeanour and she felt her confidence deflate like a balloon.

“Sorry I–“ she started but you cut her off, your lips meeting hers again.

“Didn’t mean to laugh, just thought you looked cute,” you said after pulling back.

Heat crept up her freckled face and she cleared her throat, you thought she was cute? Pretty? Alright. Handsome? Cool. But cute? She’d never heard that term be positively used with her before, usually, it was used by asshole guys who decided to undermine her and be misogynistic before getting their lights punched out. She wasn’t even sure how to react, what the hell were you doing to her?

She rubbed the back of her neck, muttering a small thanks as her eyes wandered around the room. She was staring at the lava lamp on the right bedside table when she heard you messing with the sleeves of your dress.

You tilted your head and with the sweetest voice she’s ever heard asked, “Are you going to help me take this off so we can fuck, or do I have to do it myself?”

She could practically hear the ‘woosh’ of slick gushing out of her and dampening the in-between of her underwear, you were seriously going to kill her.

She shook her head, “Sorry, I didn’t think–“

“That’s alright,” you reassured her, “now help me unzip this.”

You turned around so your back was facing her and pulled your hair to one side. She cautiously lifted her hands toward the zipper of your dress and pulled it down, revealing the beautiful lace of the white bra you had on.

She let her hands rest on the bare skin below your neck for just a beat before sliding them back down to push your dress down to your hips. You lifted yourself briefly to tug it the rest of the way down before placing it gently on the floor.

You turned back around to see her already staring at you, she admired the tiny pink bow that sat in the middle of your bra and the way it hugged your chest so fucking beautifully, as well as how if she angled her head right she could see your nipples poking through the light material.

You giggled that amazing soft giggle again and noticed the dusting of pink that grew on her cheeks. Honestly, she could’ve stared at you for the rest of her days but she realized she should probably strip too.

Her hands made quick work to unbutton her flannel and rip off the white tee she had under. You aided her in pulling off her jeans after she unzipped them and felt wetness pool in both your mouth and your panties when you noticed the huge dark grey spot on her boxers.

You moved closer to her, pulling her in for another kiss and unlike the others, it was heated and hungry. Your tongue expertly slid over hers and the little bite you gave to her bottom lip when pulling back had left her breathless. She grabbed the sides of your hips and lifted you onto her lap so you were straddling her and moved to leave strawberry kisses along the sides of your throat.

You placed your hands on her shoulders to provide stability as you slowly started grinding on her thigh, the course material of your panties along with her thigh providing immense amounts of pleasure.

The feeling of your soaked heat against her thigh had her head reeling and her clit aching. And the sounds you made when she started to bounce her leg almost sent her into cardiac arrest. She committed every whimper, moan, and mewl to memory.

You rolled your hips against her faster as she moved one of her hands from your hip to the plush of your boob, lifting the lacey material to circle your nipple with her thumb before popping it into her mouth.

“Fuck–Ellie.” You moaned out, arching into her touch. When your movement began stuttering she knew you were close and gripped your hip to help you move against her as her tongue ran over and circled your nipple.

“‘I’m close, so cl–“ Your mouth fell open in a silent scream when your orgasm rushed over you, drenching your panties and Ellie’s leg.

“So pretty..” she mumbled, relishing in the sight of your post-orgasmic face. She wanted to see it again, and again, and again.

She helped you off of her and onto the floor so you could settle between her legs. You rushed to pull off her boxers so you could get to work on her cunt.

Now, Ellie Williams is pretty famous around campus for giving astronomically good head. Some would even say the best, but she was ready to toss the title out the window without another thought the second your tongue started working its magic on her.

She wasn’t known to be very vocal in bed, but the way you dove into her had her going insane. She shoved a ringed hand into your hair and slapped the other over her mouth to muffle the grotesque sounds she was making.

Your lips expertly sucked on her clit and your tongue made her moan out a small “fuck” when it slid into her slit. She was so close, of all the girls she’s been with she doesn’t think she’s ever gotten so close to cumming so fast.

The hand that was in your hair tugged you closer into her as she practically rode your face to chase her high.

“‘s close. please, angel right there.” Her mind was so muddled with thoughts of her approaching orgasm that she didn’t even process what was spilling from her lips.

You moaned at her use of a nickname and the vibration it sent throughout her body was enough to send her over the edge, stickiness flooding into your mouth and over your tongue, as you continued to slurp her up before she started pushing you away gently from the overstimulation.

You leaned back, the same sweet smile adorning your features, the only difference being her cum dripping from your face.

Shit she thought, still catching her breath, how could someone so sweet looking give such great head?

She was still basking in her post-orgasmic bliss when she heard more shuffling, she tilted her head up to see you putting on that sweet little dress of yours.

She shot you a puzzled look, that’s it?

You shot her the same look, “Is something wrong?”

“Where are you–what are you doing?”

“Putting on my clothes, silly,” you said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“I see that, but why?”

Confusion still framed your face before it switched into one of understanding then…pity?

“Don’t tell me you thought…” you giggled again, only this time instead of filling Ellie’s head with images of marshmallows and bunnies, it was bright red blaring alarms.

“I thought we were like I don’t fucking know vibing, and then we’d exchange numbers or some shit.” she said.

To which you laughed, “No no, you were cool but I don’t become friends with the people I fuck at parties.”

What?

“What?” She exclaimed, sitting up fully so she could pull on her boxers.

you tilted your head, “You didn’t think that this would be more than just a quick fuck, did you?”

She didn’t know what to say, because she did think that. The two of you talked for hours and you laughed at all her jokes and she was 90% set on calling Jesse to drive over and deliver his great-grandmother's ring so she could propose and you tucked her fucking hair behind her ear…

“I kinda did yeah, 'cause you made it seem like it would be.”

You paused before that same fucking sweet smile crept up on your face, it was really starting to piss her off now. “I’m so sorry you thought that.”

“What the fuck?” She scoffed.

You shrugged, walking over to the vanity to touch up the makeup that had been smudged like you weren’t just eating pussy like your life depended on it.

She just watched as you fluttered around the room, collecting your belongings. She was at a loss for words, what else could she say to you to make you stay? Talk to her longer? Kiss her so she could taste herself on your tongue?

Nothing. she figured as you waved her goodbye before slipping out of the room as well as her life.

angel my fucking ass.

#ellie angst #ellie au #ellie fic #ellie fluff #ellie smut #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #ellie williams #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #IS THIS PROOFREAD #WHOKNOWS?#elliereject

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strangerquinns · 1 year

Text

Deadly Reunion | Chapter 2

Eddie Munson x female!reader // a stranger things apocalypse au

summary: You and Eddie have been best friends since childhood. But when the outbreak happened five years ago, you were torn from one another in the chaos. but now you're left alone, after your group was killed by another radical crew, leaving you to seek out what was once home.

warnings: angst + adult themes w/ descriptions of violence, blood, torture + other zombie apocalypse related issues

word count: 2k+

⪻ previous chapter | next chapter ⪼ | stranger things masterlist

Chaos began to erupt. You could hear familiar and unfamiliar voices mixed with the sounds of screams, whimpers, and gun shots. You weren’t sure how long you’d been there, it felt like forever, but the door of your tent soon opened with force. Before a scream could even rip from deep within your chest, the face of your mother appeared.

“Baby, we gotta go! We’re under attack,” She spoke quickly, nearly diving into the tent and grabbing for her pack along with your own.

“A-Attack? By whom?”

“Doesn’t matter.” She spoke quickly, her breath hard and labored as she rushed to gather some more things, “We gotta go!”

Your mother reached and grabbed your wrist to pull you out, and that seemed to be the spark you needed to move. You scrambled from beneath the sleeping bag you were inside and took your pack from her hands, along with making sure you had your gun and knife. When you first stepped out of the tent, you couldn’t help but look around.

Shelters and tents were on fire with screams coming from within.

Screams of help, screams of pain, screams of death.

Already you could see dead bodies across the floors, slumped against trees with their blood mixing in with the dirt beneath them.

“Let’s go,” Your mother didn’t hesitate as she grabbed you and pulled you towards the woods.

It wasn’t long into your escape that bullets began to fly beside you. You cut through the main part of the small camp your group had made, making sure not to trip over the bodies of those you had started to consider family over the last couple of years.

“Keep running!” Your mother screamed, quickly raising her gun as she ran to fire back at those that came to destroy your home.

You ducked as another bullet nearly missed you causing you to stumble slightly as you ran. Your mother came up and wrapped her arm around your body to guide you more.

The safety of the tree lines was right there in sight for you both when you felt the weight of your mother drop away from you along with the cracking noise of gunshots. You scream as a pain ripped through your upper arm and you fell with your mother’s pulling weight. The wind was knocked from your lungs as your body smacked into the ground beneath you.

“Mmmm, fuck…” You groaned as you tried to catch your breath. Your hand moved to your arm and already you could feel the stickiness of your blood against your palm. “…Mom?”

The silence was the answer that you’d gotten.

“…Mom?” You coughed as you moved to look for your mother, catching her slumped over form not too far from you. “Mom?”

She wasn’t moving.

You whimpered slightly and moved despite the pain that ripped through your body and the burn of your arm. You moved toward your mother and gently grabbed her and rolled her onto her back. Scanning over her body quickly you already saw the blood starting to stain her clothing from the three bullet holes in her chest and stomach.

“Mom!” You screamed as the panic started to set in. Your hands frantically moving to caress her face.

Deep down you knew she was already gone.

Knew there was no saving her.

But for seven years it had been you and your mom and now she was taken from you.

“I love you, momma,” You whispered gently, kissing her forehead, before reaching over and taking her pack.

You gave yourself one final moment with tears streaming down your cheeks to look at her, before disappearing into the tree lines and the safety of the dark woods.

It was several long, dark lonely months till you’d finally made it back up to Indiana. You tried keeping track of time, but it became more and more difficult since it felt like the days blended. What you did know was that the summer days were becoming cooler and cooler. The leaves change to yellow and red before falling dead to the floor beneath you. In those months you felt yourself grow up faster than you ever had before. No longer had friends and family to depend on when in need.

You were alone.

Nights were riddled with nightmares behind the soundtrack of screams.

Days were riddled with the heavy fatigue of survival of not only Flayed but also other humans. You weren’t sure which one was worse to run into.

Being a woman alone on the road wasn’t exactly the safest thing.

Your body was riddled with scars that told stories of your survival.

But when you were walking down the road and saw the “Welcome to Hawkins” sign coming into view, you couldn’t stop the relief that sagged through your body with tears. You sat there in the middle of the broken-down highway and cried as you looked at the brown and white sign. Faded from the years of being in the sun with no one to maintain it.

Finally making it to Hawkins was days ago and, in those days, you hadn’t seen anyone else but those of the Flayed.

Downtown was left abandoned. Nothing but dead bodies and Flayed lying amongst the broken-down cars and debris that covered the streets. You walked through a few of the neighborhoods and those were even worse than the main part of town. Seeing once happy homes being left with nothing but the memories of those who lived there was depressing.

Now your feet walked along the broken-down railroad that traveled through the middle of town. Most of the earth beneath started to overgrow over the wood and iron of the tracks. But memories of years came rushing back to you as you walked along. Memories of happy times with friends as you skipped class to head down to Lovers Lake to smoke.

But the silence of your home town was starting to worry you.

You’d come back here hoping to find something or someone. But now you were coming up empty handed.

-x-

Eddie watched as the unknown form moved through the woods slowly as if they were tracking something. A hood popped up over their head making it hard for him to make out their face. The only thing he could come up with, due to their stature, was that it was most likely a woman.

“What do you think we should do?” Robin whispered to Eddie as her blue eyes stayed on the stranger as they moved further north.

“Steve is going to be closer,” Eddie sighed softly and quickly looked down to check that his safety was off. “I say we sneak up behind, close in, make it harder for them to escape.” Robin nodded her head slowly, agreeing with the plan. “If they are part of that group, we bring them back to Hooper.”

“Got it,” Robin spoke, before starting to move forward, separating from Eddie for only a moment, before they ducked behind a larger bush.

A few feet ahead Eddie could see Steve and Nancy, their eyes connecting, before Steve’s hand moved up to give off signals. Eddie’s eyes watched as Steve’s fingers moved, before nodding his head, letting him know that he understood.

“Steve’s going to move forward,” Eddie reported back to Robin, “He wants you and Nancy to come from the east, I’m to come from his other side. It’s four to one, we got this.”

-x-

You were naïve to think that nothing was going to happen to you in the woods that you’d grown up in. Becoming too comfortable in the silence of everything and thinking you were truly alone. It wasn’t till a weight slammed against you that you quickly learned that you weren’t. First instinct was that it was a Flayed that was able to sneak up on you before you were able to see them.

Thankfully you were no longer the girl that let her fear take over and caused her to freeze. You fought back. As the weight slammed into you, and caught you off guard, you reared your head back. The familiar crack of your skull ending into their nose could be heard. A deep voice yelled out in pain, giving you the upper hand. You moved quickly and spun around, ducking low to bring your leg across and sweeping the stranger off his feet. As you moved, your hand reached back into the sheath and grabbed the handle of your gun.

“Jesus fuck!” the stranger yelled out as their body slammed into the forest floor.

You moved to stand over them and pointed your gun toward them, finger hovering over the trigger.

It wasn’t a Flayed, it was a person.

But the sound of footsteps rushing at you quickly snapped back your focus, causing you to look up and around. Of course, they weren’t alone. You pressed your foot down on the mans chest, before pointing your gun forward. But nothing came from in front of you.

“Don’t even think about it,” a voice came from behind you, the barrel of a gun pressed against the back of your head.

A sharp intake of breath cut through you as you froze.

“Toss your gun.” He spoke, pressing the barrel a little harder.

“Not gonna happen,” You chuckled and shook your head.

You ducked and twisted fast, before you moved out of the way of the gun, sending your foot into his chest. Catching him off guard and tossing him back toward the tree behind him. Even with the all too familiar bandana tied around the bottom part of his face – you recognized him immediately.

His hair was longer, curlier and somehow darker, tendrils of curls hanging from in front of his face as they’d fallen loose from the bun he had sitting at the base of his neck.

“Holy fuck,” another voice spoke, your head turning to see Nancy Wheeler from behind him.

But the soft whisper of your name caused you to look back at him. His dark eyes wide as he stared toward you. Eddie’s ring clad hand rose and pulled his bandana from his face as he took a small step forward.

Tears quickly welled up in your eyes, “Hi, Eddie.”

At the sound of your voice, Eddie charged toward you, dropping his gun so his arms could wrap around your body. A cry of relief came from you the moment he was in your arms, not caring at the painful tight grasp he’d pulled you into. A sob rocked through you as your best friend for the first time in over seven years finally held you.

And for the first time in months, you felt safe.

AN: I am honestly amazed and grateful for everyone that read the last chapter. I wasn't expecting the response that I got, but I am deeply appreciative. I hope you enjoyed this one just as much! Learned a little more about the reader before she was found again by Eddie and the crew. Please leave your thoughts in the replies or come and message me! I love reading them, they are motivating.

reblog + like if you enjoyed

tag list: please let me know if you would like to be added (if your name is crossed out your @ is broken)

@mopeymopeymouse / @aris-house / @brxkenartt /@akiratoro420 / @stylesxmunson / @aactuaaltraash / @fandomgirl17 / @ches-86/ @chaoticcancer / @munsonology / @bellamy-barnes / @theonlyh3artbreaker / @idkidknemore / @familyvideowithsteve / @eddiesdingus / @thefemininemystiquee / @the-world-is-a-mess-and-so-am-i / @xdarkcreaturex / @lunr-flwr / @cherry-omi / @im-emma22 @munson-enthusiast / @munsonmecrazy

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #stranger things x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #joseph quinn x reader

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louloulemons-posts · 3 months

Text

The Criminal And The Princess II

Grumpy!College!Eddie X Sunshine!Skater!Reader

Summary : Edens dad is pushing her to breaking point, but when Steve Harrington suggests going to a gig, they stumble upon who she never thought she’d see.

Word Count : 2k

Warnings : not much eddie (i’m sorry), shitty parents, once again talk of eating, girlhood, nancy is sad, swearing, billy hargrove.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Again!”

“Dad I have to go I have class,” I sighed, skating towards him. “Regionals are coming up how are you expecting to win if you’re still so sloppy?” he snapped at me.

“Maybe I don’t want to win! Maybe I don’t even wanna go to fucking regionals!”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that!”

“I’m telling you the truth!”

“Your mother-“ I didn’t give him the chance to finish, “I’m not mom!”

With a deep breath, i spoke calmly, “I know you miss her, god dad I do too, but me skating, won’t bring her back.” The man who I love so dearly didn’t say a word, his dark eyes stern. “Just go Eden.”

“Dad-“

“And don’t worry about dinner on Friday.”

“Dad come on-“

“You need to lose the weight anyways.” I sucked in a breath, but said nothing more as I watched the greying man walk up the stairs and slamming the door to his office.

Rubbing my hand to my face I sat down on the cold plastic bench, taking off my skates and replacing them with my trainers. Throwing my oversized hoodie on, I headed out of the rink and to my car.

“E!” a voice called out.

“Harrington,” I replied, as the brunette jogged over the parking lot to me. “Hey- woah you look like shit!”

“Yeah 4:30 starts will do that to a girl,” I shrugged, throwing my bag in the back.

“Sorry that was rude of me,” he said, but I brushed him off with a smile. “What can I do for you Stevie boy?”

“So my friend has gig after the match on Friday, I was wondering if you wanted to come? Obviously I’ve invited the rest of the gang.”

“Did you really just say gang?”

“Yeah, I regret it, shut up. Do you wanna come?”

“I have training the next-“ my brows furrowed, dad’s words echoing in my head, “You know what, yeah it sounds fun.

“Great, I’m gonna text Robin all the details so, I’ll see you around.”

“See you.”

Well that was something to look forward too.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Sat in class the professor droned on and on, Vickie was almost asleep besides me. I felt my phone buzz in pocket, taking it out I saw a message from Robin.

Robs : soooo a little dingus said you’re coming to a certain gig this friday? 👀

E : figured it was time i had some fun

E : lets be honest its a rare occasion

Robs : im actually so excited for this!!!!!

E : yeah me too, and you’re gonna be extra excited when i tell you who else is coming 😚

Putting my phone down on my notebook I nudged Vickie. “Hm,” she said rubbing her eyes, then brushed an auburn curl from her face.

“Sorry did I fall asleep?” I huffed a laugh,

“A little, but that’s not why I’m waking you. Are you free Friday?”

“I think so yeah, what’s up?”

“Wanna come to a gig?”

“Who’s gig?”

“Not sure yet, but me and a few friends are going, Nancy, Steve, oh and you know Robin right?”

“R-robin?” she stuttered.

“Yeah! I could text you the details, it’d be nice to hang out when we’re not studying.”

She nodded, cheeks flushed slightly, “Yeah cool, just text me.” I returned the nod, picking my phone back up.

Robs : who???

Robs : ????

Robs : did you die???

E : lmao no very much alive

Robs : who’s coming???

E : Vickie

Robs : …

E : love youuuuuu 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

Robs : EDEN I SWEAR TOENDJSKSJSKSJJDJD

With a laugh I put my phone away and attempted to focus on this mind numbing lecture.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

Friday rolled around really quickly, people were so ready for the weekend already. Who knew summer break would be missed already.

“I’m still not over the fact your dad said that to you?” Nancy said, whilst taming her curls.

“It’s fine, it’s not like it’s out of the ordinary.”

“Are you sure I can’t kick him in the throat?”

“I really don’t wanna have to bail you out of jail Robs.”

She hummed, “Yeah that’s true, would not look good for my future.”

“Dads are so shit!” Nancy exclaimed out of nowhere. “Nance-“ I began.

“No! I Robins dad walked out, your dad bullies you and my dad acts like I don’t fucking exist. Why do these men have kids and then treat them like trash?”

The girl was flinging her arms around like crazy, huffing angrily. “Nance, but the hairbrush down you’ll hurt yourself,” Robin said. The girl placed it to the floor, kneeling down behind her, I met her gaze in the mirror.

“What happened?” I asked. She looked at me with glassy eyes. “Mom called, yesterday she was going out to that meal, you know the one for her friends birthday?”

Me and Robin both gave her affirming nods, “Well Mike was working a shift at the record store and dad was picking Holly up from school,” she let out a shaky breath.

“It’s okay,” I said, hugging her from behind, resting my chin on her shoulder. “He forgot her, was sat at home watching a game. She was there for hours, when Mike came home he found him passed out on the couch.”

“Is Holly okay?” Robin asked, sliding off Nancys bed and down next to us. The brunette nodded, “Yeah, a teacher stayed with her and Mike went to get her. Mom got so mad and then you know what he said?”

I rubbed her shoulder, and Robin squeezed her hand. “He said, ‘Oh Nancy was supposed to get her,’” she choked on a sob, “He didn’t even know I was gone!”

“Oh Nance,” I said, pulling her back to hug me, Robin went to her front, wrapping her arms around us both. “Dads are the worst,” Robs said. “They really are!” I agreed.

“I swear Jonathan, Will and El are the only ones who got a decent one!” Robin laughed. “H-Hoppers a good man,” Nancy sniffled.

“You know what we’re gonna do tonight?” I asked pulling away from the hug, going to face Nancy, I wiped the tears from her face.

“What?” she asked.

“We’re gonna go to that game and cheer on our guy Harrington! And then, we’re gonna go to that gig and drink and dance and celebrate the badass women who raised us!”

“That sounds like the best plan,” Robin smiled, “You up for it Nance?”

“Yeah! Let’s go celebrate our moms.”

“And also get Robin a girlfriend!”

Me and Nancy laughed as Robin fell back, groaning into her hands. “What about you? You got your eye on anyone?” Nancy asked, cleaning up her tear stained face.

“Nah.”

“Oh come on E!”

“Seriously there’s nobody,” I laughed. “Plus I’m happy enough being wingwoman, I mean you and Johnny are getting to 2 years now?”

“Yeah,” the girl couldn’t hide her smile, “Speaking of, he’ll be here soon so, get ready!” She shooed us out of her room with a laugh.

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

“Come on Harrington!” I cheered, jumping up and down. The game was almost over and our guys were down 6 points. Jonathans friend Argyle let out a loud whoop as the puck hit the back of the net.

“Let’s go dingus!” Robin shouted. I looked up from the ice briefly, my eyes meeting my fathers. His face looked like its normal stern self, but he looked sad?

I know I shouldn’t have yelled at him, specially not about mom, but god he shouldn’t have said the things he did either.

Suddenly I felt arms wrapped around me and the siren went, signalling the game was over. “We won!” Robin screamed. I looked at the score board, we were up by 2 points.

With a smile, I put my arms around the girl, giving her a squeeze. Leaning over the side of the seats, Steve walked past, “Go on Harrington!” we all cheered for him, making him smile bashfully.

“I’ll meet you guys after,” he said walking away. “No cheers for me Eden?” a vile voice came. “In your dreams Hargrove.”

“Oh they’re more than cheers in the dreams gorgeous.”

“Gross, “Robin said from behind me.

“You okay Benny?” Jonathan asked. Benny was a nickname he’d decided on when we were in kindergarten, apparently Eden was a weird name, but I thought Johnathan was too old so,” All good Johnny.”

The rink soon cleared out and we decided to wait by our cars for Steve. “Eden,” a deep voice called from behind. Dad was stood at the end of the hallway, Robin held my hand, Nancy appearing on the other side.

“It’s okay, I’ll catch up,” I said, walking towards the man. “What’s up?” I asked.

“I … I just wanted to apolo-“ he was cut off when the team of hollering boys ran by, Steve being one of them.

“Coach Bennett,” the boy smiled, swinging his arm over my shoulder. “Steve, good match,” the man offered him a smile, I hadn’t had one of those in a long time.

“Sorry I interrupted,” Steve spoke.

“It’s okay, what did you want to say dad?”

“Take a break this weekend, no training, but I expect you to do a morning and evening practice on Monday. Yrene is back from maternity leave so she’ll be training you.”

I sighed, but spoke through gritted teeth, “Great, thanks dad.” I turned to Steve, “Let’s go,” almost dragging the boy down the hall.

“We could get lunch on Sunday?” My dad called after me.

“What?”

“Lunch. I know dinner isn’t an option tonight, go have fun. Let me know if you’re free Sunday.” I gave him a nod, before I did drag Steve down the hall.

“That was weird,” he said when we got out into the fresh hair, you could feel that autumn was rolling around fast. “I know, who knew that Ethan Bennett wasn’t always an ass,” I said.

“Everything okay?” Nancy asked as we headed to the car. “Yeah all good, now let’s go!”

“What’s the name of the band your friends in again?” Jonathan asked.

“Corroded Coffin, and I gave you the address right?” Jonathan nodded, consuming, “The hideout right?”

“Yeah that’s the one, E does that friend of yours need a ride?”

I felt Robin go stiff beside me, “Vickie? Nah she’s being dropped off by her brother.”

“Cool, let’s go then!”

“I swear I’m gonna kill you,” Robin muttered. “What was that?” She gave me a sickly sweet smile, linking our arms, “Nothing!”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

The bar known as The Hideout was packed, I recognised some faces from college, everyone was here to have a good time. Onto your second drink, I smiled as I saw a familiar redhead.

“Vickie!” I called out.

“Hey,” she smiled, making her way through a crowd of people. “Come and meet the guys.” Taking her hand I led her over to my friends.

“Everyone!” I shouted to get their attention, “This is Vickie, we’re in history together.”

She raised a hand, offering a smile to them. “Vickie this is Steve, Nancy, Jonathan,” he cringed when I said his name,” Argyle and you know Robin.”

“Yeah, hi,” she smiled.

“Hey um … can I get you a drink?”

“Uh yeah sure, cool.” Oh my god they were so cute. When the pair walked away me and Nancy squealed.

“Alright folks we have our next act of the evening for you, give it up for Indianas own, Corroded Coffin!” A man shouted into the mic.

The five of us walked into the crowd getting to the front, standing by the stage, I was excited to see Steve’s buddy.

Out walked 3 boys, one sitting behind the drum set and the others picking up guitars. Taking a sip of my drink, I regretted it right away, almost choking when I saw the final member walk out on stage.

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed.

“Good evening Indiana!” he shouted. He looked so different, so alive, his curls falling down his back, freely allowed to do so. His dark eyes shining with mischief and joy.

“We’re Corroded Coffin and we’re here to rock your world for the next hour or so! Are! You! Ready!”

~ / / / * \ \ \ ~

They meet again 👀

This part was mainly me healing the parental issues in stranger things with friendship lmao.

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junkissed · 1 year

Text

finals season

day one of junkissed's svt seasons greetings event

member — tutor!seungcheol x student!reader genre — fluff, mild angst, hurt/comfort ?, college au word count — 2k synopsis — getting a degree isn't easy. fortunately, your tutor that you maybe have a crush on is here to help. warnings — frat president!cheol, mentions of math (yes this is a warning), mutual crushes but they’re both kinda idiots, friends (?) to lovers, really awkward confession scene oops, there's 2 screenshots at the beginning bc i wanted to! notes — lowercase intended; honestly idk how this happened i promise the rest won’t be angsty like this sjdgkfs it was supposed to be cute but then my brain just kept chugging so. um enjoy !

one reblog = one snowy frat party

you sigh and stand up off the couch, wrapping your scarf around your neck. as much as you hated doing math, you always seemed to jump at the chance to study with seungcheol. the weather had made you reluctant to leave the comfort of your home, but the promise of coffee (and your unfairly attractive tutor) was more than enough to lure you out of the house for a couple hours.

even though your major had almost nothing to do with math, you’re still required to take so many credits of the subject to meet your requirements.

you shrug on your coat and grab your backpack in the dark, shoving your laptop and charger in with notebooks and folders. turning to take one last look around to make sure you aren’t forgetting anything, you shut the door quietly and lock it.

the lady working the shift at the front desk smiles and waves as you walk through the lobby of your apartment complex. “where are you headed?” she asks, setting down her nail file.

“tutoring,” you say, pulling the strap of your backpack higher up your shoulder.

“ooh, that hot guy that comes through here every thursday?”

you giggle. “yeah.”

“well, good luck, baby,” she grins, giving you a very indiscreet wink. “have fun with you man!”

“no– we’re not together,” you explain, feeling your cheeks start to heat in embarrassment. not that you don’t want to be together. you don’t even know if he’s single or not.

“not yet! you never know!”

“i’ll see you later,” you laugh, walking out the front door with a wave behind you.

seungcheol’s house is on the other end of campus where the fraternity houses are. it’s not a far walk, but with the snow still coming down heavily you decide not to risk showing up at his door looking like a total mess. so instead of walking like you usually do, you wait at the bus stop outside your apartment, rushing to find a place under the overhang with a crowd of other students waiting to get to class.

fifteen minutes later, you step off the bus, trudging through the quickly growing piles of snow on the ground up to the door of cheol’s apartment.

it’s only friday afternoon, but lambda phi epsilon is already gearing up for whatever party they’re hosting this weekend. you can hear faint music playing from one of the houses across the street. you wonder why cheol, the current president of the frat, isn’t over there with them, but you don’t dwell on the thought.

you smooth down your jacket and check your hair in the reflection of your phone screen, then take a deep breath and knock twice.

the door swings open immediately, revealing your tutor dressed in his… pajamas. you almost choke, your eyes falling to his flannel pants and collared pajama shirt, the top buttons undone revealing an expanse of smooth skin. the material looks soft, so soft, and you have to physically restrain yourself from reaching out to touch him.

“hey! come on in, it’s cold out there,” he smiles warmly. you snap back to attention, drawing your gaze back up to his face.

“thanks,” you manage, stepping inside. “you look, um. comfortable.”

“i love the snow,” he explains. “perfect weather to stay inside and get cozy for the weekend.”

you raise your eyebrows. “you’re not going to the party later?”

“no?” he questions. “why, are you going?”

your cheeks flare. “no, i’m– work,” you laugh awkwardly as the entirety of the english language disappears from your brain.

he smiles. “cool. you can stay as long as you want, then, i don’t have plans. we can work until you have to leave.”

“sounds great,” you squeak out.

oh, it’s gonna be a long night.

but the night isn’t as long as you thought it would be. it actually goes by pretty quickly, once you sit down and start working. as distracting as seungcheol is, you’ve really gotta learn these concepts before your final.

after many tutoring sessions you’d already figured out that cheol is insanely smart, but it never occurred to you before just how smart he is. not only does he understand the material, he understands it enough to explain everything in a way that makes sense to you— something your teachers could never do. everything just seems to click in your brain when he tells you things like why the angle of elevation is below the shape and not above it. hell, he’s even made his own practice problems for you that aren’t in your book, and after hours of teaching you get them all right, all on your own.

“try using this equation,” he says, gently nudging your elbow.

“huh?” you realize you’ve been staring at him and you whip your eyes back down to the workbook in front of you, embarrassed to be focusing on him and not the actual reason you’re here.

what is the reason you’re here? you wonder, your mind wandering. you went to the math department and signed up for a tutor, and a week later you met him in a private corner of the library to get help before your exam. and after a while, you started meeting him at your apartment, because your sessions ran long after the library had closed for the night. and now you’re sitting in his living room, contemplating every life decision you’ve made up until this point and wondering how the hell you ended up studying triangles with him in his pajamas.

he calls your name again, and you turn your head to look at him. but when you make eye contact, you suddenly feel the overwhelming urge to cry.

“do you wanna stop for now? we’ve been on this for a while, we can switch to something else if you want,” he asks. his eyes are full of concern at the sudden way you’ve stopped responding.

how did you end up falling in love with him?

“i… i think i should go home now,” you choke out. your throat feels like it’s closing up from the effort it takes not to burst into tears in the middle of his house.

“oh,” he says quietly. “are you sure? i have more practice problems for you, here, you can take–”

“why are you so nice to me?” you say abruptly.

he pauses. “i– what?”

“our study sessions go way past the hour set by the university, you make practice problems for me, you invite me to your house in your pajamas. you don’t have to do any of that. you get paid no matter what. why?”

his gaze shifts around the room, from the workbook still lying open on the table to the posters on his wall behind you. “i’m sorry about… this,” he says finally. “we can meet in the library again if you don’t like meeting here. and i would’ve changed, if i knew the pajamas made you uncomfortable.”

“it’s not the pajamas,” you whisper.

“sorry?” he says, not hearing you.

“it’s not the pajamas,” you repeat, louder this time. “it’s you. i… i don’t think i need a tutor anymore,” you say.

your vision begins to blur with tears when you hear him say softly, “okay.”

you grab your things and pack your backpack in record time. cheol holds the door open for you as you shrug your bag onto your shoulder.

“i’ll, uh, talk to the tutoring advisor and tell her you don’t need help anymore,” he says awkwardly as you rush out the door.

“goodbye, cheol,” you say, and turn down the steps to leave.

the sound of the door closing quietly behind you is what finally breaks you. tears stream down your face, burning your skin in contrast to the freezing air.

the snow had stopped while you’d been in his house, slowly turning into slush. you plop down on the sidewalk, not even caring that you’re sitting in a puddle of dirt and ice. not only had you just lost your free homework help, you’ve lost a friend who might’ve maybe been something more, if you hadn’t panicked and run off at the first thought of him.

your nose starts to run and you cry harder, wiping your nose against your sleeve, but it does nothing. you sit on the curb outside in the cold for so long you start shivering, but you don’t have the motivation to get up. a part of you doesn’t want to leave, and you don’t know why.

without the extra practice from cheol, you’ll probably bomb your final, which means having to take even more classes for even more credits next semester.

you hear a squeak behind you, but you don’t look back. whatever it is, it doesn’t matter.

“are you okay?”

a familiar voice calls out, and you force yourself to turn around.

“i mean, you don’t look okay,” he adds. “you’re sitting in front of my house, in the snow.”

you hadn’t even noticed it had started to snow again. “oh.”

“do you want to come inside?” he asks gently.

“no,” you answer immediately, but the cold is starting to get to you. “yes.”

he smiles, and just that makes you feel better. he moves out of the middle of the doorway, leaving room for you to come inside.

you stand up, trying to wipe the snow from your backside, and walk back into his house.

a pot of coffee is already steaming on the countertop, and he pours a mug and hands it to you. “why were you sitting in front of my house, in the snow?” he asks after a moment, giving you a minute to warm up.

“i don’t know,” you admit, sniffling. he hands you a tissue. where did he get that?

as you start to calm down and take in your surroundings, you notice he’s changed into jeans and a sweater.

“you didn’t have to change,” you say quietly.

“i know,” he says. “i, uh… i decided i’m going to the party later.”

“oh.”

“yeah.”

the tension in the room is almost unbearable, but you purposely ignore it, bringing his mug to your lips to drink with shaky hands.

“what did you mean, ‘it’s me’?” he says finally. “what you said earlier.”

you swallow. no running away this time.

“well. um. because you’re too good. at everything.” you close your eyes and sigh. “you’re good at math and you’re good at tutoring and you’re a good person.”

“oh?” he asks cautiously. “is that… a bad thing?”

“i don’t know,” you say,. “i don’t know. you’re too nice to me. i can’t figure it out.”

he smiles, and his hand moves at his side, as if he wants to reach out and touch you, but he stays put. “i–” he swallows. “i think you’re really great. and nice. and i wanted to, i guess, get to know you better. that’s why i suggested meeting outside the library. and why i help you so much. because i do want to help you, but, uh…” he trails off, staring at his feet. “i also want more than that.”

“you do?”

he looks up at you nervously, waiting to see if your reaction is good or bad.

“i also want more than that, i think,” you say quietly.

"do– do you wanna stay for a little while?" he asks, glancing out the window. "it's started snowing again."

you smile. "yeah."

his face brightens. "we can order food or watch tv, or– we could keep studying, whatever you want," he says shyly.

"i thought you were going to the party?"

"nah," he grins. "i’d rather stay right here.”

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