#Bearded Madonna

[luminarai]

And that was the last time anybody on the team attempted polite small talk with Beard.

I’ve been working on this since eurovision and got it done just in time for the s3 finale 🥲 speaking of eurovision, if you look really really closely at the interval show you might just be able peep Beard in the background…

[alex003sworld]

I was looking for me…

[carmelath3cvnt]

She’s a madonna fan!!

[atilaouno]

[jmrgby1988]

Went down to London and saw the Queen of Pop.

[jorgiedelaigle]

[cajutopia]

La isla bonita

Last night I dreamt of San Pedro

Tropical the island breeze All of nature wild and free This is where I long to be

[jonnywaistcoat]

Has anyone ever told you you actually look a bit like Christopher Marlowe?

Image from the Poisoner’s Cabinet podcast on the guy added for reference

While Kit Marlowe did broadly rule (with a few notable exceptions) and I am inclined to agree that "they who love not tobacco and boys were fooles", I unfortunately have come to the conclusion that I look like the portraits of a lot of late 16th century men with beards because when they painted those fellas, they made the faces quite round and really didn't skimp on the forehead.

Sometimes people just look a little like a particular historical period in art. Like how all medieval madonna statues look a bit like former prime minister David Cameron.

[eddiernunson]

Be Quiet | Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader | 18+

Blurb from my long form Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader story Trapped (Go check it out if you're in the mood for a long read)

[I'm not letting the notes I've gotten in the last 24 hours get to me, I swear]

Context? Meeting Uncle Wayne for the first time then fucking off to Eddie's room.

Word Count: 3.7k

Warning: squirting, light ball worship, oral (both), riding, slut shaming, dirty talk, *parent in the next room so shut up*, teasing/begging

“I know you’re nervous but it’s gotta happen some time.”

“Like you are meeting my mom and dad?”

Eddie’s eyes bulge, forgetting you had a normal set of parents he still had to meet. “Damn. Right. Anyway. It’ll be fine.”

The door swings open without needing a key. The two of you walk in, seeing Wayne Munson perched on the couch with his legs bent and feet on the coffee table holding a beer and watching a rerun of Cheers. A cigarette in his mouth, inhaling, laughing, and coughing as Ted Danson says something rather funny.

He jumps as the door closes, apparently not hearing Eddie’s loud engine. “Oh, hey kid.” Wayne grunts, putting his feet off the table and getting up to greet his nephew. “I see you brought a friend?”

“Of sorts.” Eddie shrugs, his hand flexing in yours.

“Hello,” you greet him, your nervousness obvious in your voice as you greet him. You face him for the first time, taking in the man who you assumed is the one who raised Eddie. Wayne Munson looks like what someone would define as a blue collared man. The plaid he’s wearing, the scruff on his jeans, and the smell and tint of dirt on his skin. He has thin hair on his head, completely thinned out in the middle.

Bald. He’s bald.

He has a scruff beard, and he doesn’t look like the most approachable person in the world. However, the way this man smiled at Eddie told you everything you needed to know about him. You hold your hand to him, testing the waters. Eddie muffles a laugh, smiling over you at Wayne.

Wayne laughs silently at the extended hand, grabs it and yanks you into a hug. It startles you, but the smell of the same cologne you smell on Eddie mixed with his gruff laughter as you yelp is oddly comforting. “Oh sunshine, I found my nephew singing a pop song in the shower last Sunday morning. I think we’re way passed a handshake.”

Wayne gives you one last squeeze and lets you go. You turn back to face your boyfriend, anticipating his reaction to this.

Eddie was looking at Wayne, the face of one who was severely betrayed. “You really gotta bring up singing in the shower?”

Wayne put his hands up in surrender, laughing as he goes back to return to the couch where his beer was sat and his cigarette out from lack of use. “Hey, man. You haven’t sung like that for a couple of years. I just had to let this kid know how much she means to you. In case you haven’t gotten the message across.”

You smile already fond of his uncle. “Wait until you meet my mom” you say, attempting to make him feel better. “She has stories on stories against singing in the shower. Though I gotta know the artist.”

“Not saying shit.” Eddie states, bouncing onto his toes and back onto his heels, representing his stubbornness.

Wayne jogs lightly to you, and whispers “Madonna” right near your face and giggles as Eddie loudly protests this second act of betrayal.

“I don’t know how I didn’t see my girlfriend and my uncle teaming up against me coming. This was bound to happen with you two.” He says, sounding disappointed but there was a hint of a smile his face.

“You picked a good one, that’s why,” Wayne says, sat back on his couch and grabbing his lighter and cigarette. “Nice to meet you, sunshine.”

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Munson,” you reply, the feeling of Eddie’s hand grabbing yours.

“Please, Mr. Munson is my shit brother. Call me Wayne. Please.”

“Okay. Will do.” You smile, your breath taken away as Eddie tugs you straight to his room.

“Edward!” Wayne calls as you almost reach his room.

Eddie sighs and turns around to ask what he wanted.

“Either be quiet or turn some music on. I don’t want to hear anything. Capiche?” He asks, a mildly smug but mostly a tired man who did not need to hear that on his one night off this week.

“Got it.” And the door closes behind you two.

-

You land on the bed with an oof as you lie onto your back, Eddie running around his room like a headless chicken. Eddie puts on some Journey, a tape he once received as a gift and only plays as background music for more tamer things. He turns up the volume enough, but not enough to drown your voices out.

Sitting up, you give him a look with an eyebrow raised, and your core heating up from the mere indication of putting on slightly loud yet tame music. You watch Eddie as he yanks off his jacket and vest, pulling off his shirt as well. He slips his hair back half up, and finally turns to face you with a knowing smirk.

“What are you up to?” You ask as he crawls on to the bed.

“Shh. Time for kissing.” He whispers and leans in with his delicious lips.

No matter how many times you have seen the sight of Eddie leaning in to kiss you, it never gets old. You’re absolutely positive it won’t ever get old.

Eddie’s lips are on yours, leading with a confidence that grows each time. If you’re not careful he will become hella cocky in his abilities. You meet his kiss with enthusiasm, opting to open your mouth ask for permission for your tongue to enter his. He grants you permission, a dark chuckle in the back of his throat as he sharply inhales. He places a hand into your hair, his thumb caressing the skin right underneath it.

You don’t know how, but you were getting wetter from kissing him alone. You could feel an urge to start to grind, your thighs clenching tightly. Lying down on your back, Eddie follows you down, slipping one hand underneath your shirt, the contact of his hand on your waist making you whimper.

“Feeling needy, princess?” He asks, his voice light. “You want me to do something?” Eddie starts kissing your neck, his tongue teasing by barely gracing your skin.

One arm is around your torso, his body lined up against yours and propped onto his elbow. You nod your head yes as he continues his assault on your neck, starting to use his teeth.

“What do you want me to do, use your words.” He whispers against your neck, his voice nice and smooth. He feels you clench your thighs, most of your lower body tightening right up. “Oh you are very needy, my love. But you’re going to have to tell me if you want me to do something, otherwise I’ll continue to do PG rated things on your neck.”

You whimper, thinking he wouldn’t be as cruel as to only stick to over your clothes type touching for the sake of teasing you. “Please, please touch me, Eddie. I need it. I need it so bad.”

“I am touching you” he mutters pressing his hand under your shirt on your torso a little harder on your skin.

A sound comes out of you that sounds like a sob, a pathetic little noise from being riled up so much already. You know if he were to take off your pants your panties would have a nice little wet patch on them. “My pussy, Eddie please. Touch it, I’m so fucking wet.” You beg him, whimpering.

Eddie admires the way he was able to make you fall apart simply by kissing you. He has been thinking of attempting something like this with you for about as long as he could handle. Your face was already scrunched up from the teasing, whimpering from the way he was teasing you and almost denying you what you so desperately craved.

“There you go sweetheart.” Eddie sits up, you with him. He crawls down to your waist, starting on the waistband of your pants. He tugs on it, forcing you to lift your hips. He throws them across the room and gets a good look at your pretty yellow panties with the bow on it you decided to wear, nearly groaning at the sight of the darkened patch at the centre. “Look at you,” he nearly chokes on air, catching his breath at the way your hips are so easily separated and you panting, staring up at him. “Is this all for me? Just from my lips kissing yours?”

“I’ve been wanting you all day,” you mumble, embarrassed. “Been thinking about your cock in class.”

“Oh, you dirty girl,” he mutters, entirely too turned on at the idea of you sitting in class and writing notes while thinking of him bending you over a desk in a nearby empty classroom. He rewards your confession with a kiss on your thigh, causing it to shake on almost immediate contact, the lick sending pleasure shocks up your body. He looks at you, surprised at the reaction, but it only encourages him to continue.

He laps further up your thigh causing your pussy to start to clench at the very idea of being in contact with his fucking beautiful tongue. Finally, he gets to the centre, the heated core where your pussy is begging for any sort of contact. “Baby, please” You beg him. “Lick my pussy. Eat me out. Fuck please.”

Usually, Eddie is the more verbal one, but you’re starting to catch on to the fact that every time you beg or confess something he rewards you. So here, instead of teasing you over your undies like he was planning, he rips them off in a singular motion. As soon as your panties are off, he attacks your clit with his tongue, your pussy already completely covered in your slick.

“Look how wet and pretty this little pussy is,” he mutters against your clit, the vibrations sending waves up your stomach. If he continues like this, you won’t last much longer. He slips in a finger, pumping it and sucking on your clit at the same time. “How does this feel, baby?”

You were so far gone you were surprised it even registered to answer, your stomach starting to tighten in the all too familiar way. “Feels- feels so good, Ed. Keep doing that.”

Eddie sucks on your clit even harder and adds a finger. You feel fuller and a red-hot heat starts on your clit, spreading in your legs and your stomach. It felt intense, and new. There was a very small part of you that remembered Wayne was in the living room. Instead of the loud moans you wanted to let out, it ended up being choked out moans, staying in the back of your throat.

You struggling to keep quiet was like music to Eddie’s ears. The way your legs were entirely tensed up was telling him you were close. He was surprised how little he did today to get you so close to the edge, wondering how long you must’ve been revved up for. He sucks as hard as he can on your clit, adding a third finger to you.

Suddenly, you’re hit with a wave of heat, something inside you tells you to push and relax a muscle you didn’t know you had. You feel heat all over your body, focused on your pussy and thighs and you hear a gushing sound. It takes you a second to come back to earth, your heart racing and giggles forming in the back of your throat. You sit up slowly to ask him who the fuck taught him to do that cause it wasn’t you when a large wet patch underneath your ass startles you.

It didn’t even occur to you that you have squirted, you were so blissed out. Confused you look at the darkened patch on the bed and then up to Eddie’s face. It’s covered in your slick, and he looks as stunned as you were. “Holy shit I made you squirt.” He mutters, taking one thumb and running it along his face to suck on your slick.

“I-I didn’t know I could even do that.” You whisper, starting at the large wet stain on his bed.

“That was so fucking sexy, baby.” He whispers back, leaning in to kiss you.

You lean back after receiving one kiss, the taste of your pussy/cum turning you on more than you thought it would. “You don’t want to wipe your face off?”

“Are you fucking kidding me, sweetheart?” He asks, dead serious. “I’m wearing this like a fucking trophy. I, a man who has fucked a total of three times, have made my girlfriend squirt. If I can do it any guy can.”

“Not just any guy is willing to go down on a girl like that, though.” You mutter, searching his face.

Eddie rolls his eyes, pouncing on you so you lie back onto the bed. “A guy who refuses to go down on a girl is a fucking whimp. It’s one of the best acts of worship you could possibly do.”

This sentence turns you on so much that you moan softly, leaning in for another you-tasting kiss. You reach down for his pants unbuckling his jeans and belt, needing to feel the weight of his cock on your tongue as lust overtakes and overconsumes your body. “Wanna taste you, now.” You mutter, leaning away to focus on getting his pants off.

After fidgeting for too long, you maneuver him onto his back getting a better angle to blow him.

“Oh, fuck please.” Eddie mutters, a fraction of his confidence gone in the idea of your mouth around his cock.

You yank his briefs and his jeans off all at once, having teased him a bit last time. You just wanted to show him how much making you feel so damn good made you feel. You crawl up to his cock and start fisting him without any warning. Eddie lurches in your hold, his chest lifting with is legs. He really needed the release as well, it seems.

Your hand stops moving, and you lean down, gently kissing along the shaft in different spots. You go up and down several times, not wanting him to know when you were taking him in his mouth. After your third round of up and down Eddie’s hips buck up, silently asking you fucking suck on his cock already. You giggle softly and decide to take pity on him. You open your mouth and finally take him in, his cock going to the centre of your mouth.

Eddie moans softly and you feel his thighs tense. You start sucking and bobbing, getting a rhythm started. “Oh Jesus you do so fucking well with your pretty little mouth, baby.” He rambles, his mouth talking out of habit.

You hum, causing a vibration sent down. Taking your mouth off, you decide something spontaneous, and take one of his balls onto your mouth, sucking on it loudly.

Eddie jerks up in response to this, eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling. You feel proud of yourself for getting this reaction and you move to the next one. You bring his heavy cock back into your mouth and take him in as much as you can. You start the rhythm again, and you can feel him getting more desperate as you continue.

Eddie taps your head, asking you silently to come up to him. You wanted to continue sucking him off, but you obliged anyhow. It was proving that listening to him paid off.

“Come here.” He says when you crawl up to him. “You do so well, baby. Be a good girl and put your cock in, yeah? I wanna fuck you so bad now.”

You take off your baggy shirt, revealing you wore no bra. Your nipples were nice and hard, Eddie grabbing one of your tits as soon as he saw them. You whimper at the sensation, feeling nice and tingly. Finally, you were both naked. You move your leg over his lap, straddling him. You haven’t ridden him yet and you were fucking excited to. As you sit down, Eddie grabs his cock, lining it up with your entrance but just off. He takes his hand off his cock and you whine at the loss of the possibility of you finally being full of him. “No, no. Remember, I told you to put it in. You can do it, my little slut. Go ahead.”

You reach down between your legs to line up his cock with your entrance. Eddie looks down as the head starts to go in, moaning at the sight of your hand doing such a thing. You moan as his cock enters, both at the slight pain and the immense pleasure already pooled in your tummy again.

As the pain settles after a shorter period than last time, you go as far as you can go, not warning Eddie and making him moan loudly. “Shh.” You say, placing your hand over his mouth. “Remember.”

Eddie nods, his eyes wide, but you feel his cock twitch. You almost remove your hand when he desperately grabs it and places it back over his mouth, nodding. You smile, this being far too hot to handle. You add light pressure with your hand, and finally, you’re able to finish sinking onto his cock. “Holy fucking- holy shit.” You whisper as he moans loudly into your hand.

Slowly, you start grinding on his cock, unable to remember when the last time you rode anyone was but knowing you still had some skill regardless. He was longer than you figured, sliding up and farther than you thought you could. As you slam down onto it again Eddie rolls his eyes and is muffled as he moans in your mouth again, a strain of profanities you wish you could hear.

Soon, you find your thighs aren’t doing the job you needed them to, and you stand onto your feet in a froggy style and start bouncing on his cock. This causes a moan so loud your hand barely hid it, Eddie pussy drunk as you stare half lidded into his eyes. His cock is hitting the right spot and you can feel your self getting close as he starts assisting you, moving his hips.

Before you knew what was happening, he got impatient and grabbed your waist and turned you onto your back. You were so surprised your hand flew off his mouth. He put his hand on yours, wanting to be in control. “Now you can moan as long as you want, you little slut,” he whispers, his hand hard on your mouth but literally the hottest thing in the world. He changes from missionary and hikes your legs up so you two were in an L.

You were accidentally edged earlier, but you felt it coming just as fast again, and the way your knees bent on his chest was the dead giveaway. “Are you close, princess? Come on, cum. I wanna feel you as you moan onto my hand. Come on. Come on you slut. Come-”

Eddie got more aggressive, but it did the trick with the slut shaming doing more than you ever expected. The coil in your tummy snaps, sending waves of pleasure through your body and a white-hot flash past your eyes. You yell loudly into his hand, yelling words you weren’t sure they would make sense even if you didn’t have his hand clamped over your mouth.

As Eddie felt you come around his cock, your wet heat spasming it drew him to his orgasm faster than he was expecting. “Holy shit – Im gonna,” he stops, white hot cum shooting into your pussy, his orgasm overtaking him far faster than he expected.

His hand leaves your mouth, and he falls next to you. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to-” he starts to say, but you crawl into his arms and cut him off.

“Don’t care. I will need a morning after pill to make sure we don’t fuck over your uncle a second time, but I don’t care. I love the feeling of your cum in me.” You tell him honestly, leaning in for a kiss.

“I’m pretty sure I made you up,” Eddie mutters as he musters the energy to get up. He does, grabbing a towel and coming back to clean you up. “Hold on, be right back.”

Eddie gets changed into sweats and a band t shirt and runs into the trailer to get a glass of water. When he returns, he has a wet cloth as well and a shit eating grin on his face.

“What happened?” You ask, afraid to know the answer.

“He left a note.”

You didn’t see it when he first came in, a cloth against the mug of water he brought. “What does it say?”

Eddie giggles as he lifts it up and clears this throat dramatically. “It says, ‘You kids don’t know the meaning of the word quiet. I went for a walk. I’ll be back at 11.”

You put your hands over your mouth, mortified that after meeting his uncle its followed by fucking too loud and forcing him out of his own trailer. Eddie doesn’t seem to find this embarrassing, but rather funny. Silently you ask him why he’s laughing. “I didn’t think I would ever be able to fuck so loud that my uncle had to leave, seeing as my virginity status was bound to last until college.” He sighs looking off into distance. “Dreams really do come true.”

You get up, knees weak to grab the cloth in his hands. “I’ll take that.”

“AH ah ah.” He yanks it out of reach. “Lie down. Let me take care of you. Then we’ll go watch something in the living room before I drive you home, ok?”

You lie back down, Eddie placing a nice warm cloth on your pussy to clean it. When he’s done, he gives you some water. “Do you need a shower?” He asks, offering a clean towel from the linen closet. You nod your head no, thinking you’ll just take one at home and you wanted more time together.

Eddie shrugs and gives you your clothes and lets you know he’ll meet you in the living room and it’s his turn to pick the movie.

After Wayne gives you an extra half hour of wiggle room, he finds you sitting on the couch, you refusing to make eye contact as he walks in. He sits next to you anyway, already forgotten.

-

You guyssss have blown me away with the love you have shown these little blurbs I cannot thank you enough. Please let me know what you thought pls I love reading it... xoxo

Again there are more smut scenes in the long story that I won't be posting as a stand alone (like Eddie's their first time.)

[ohbo-ohno]

A small flower that sprays spores you happen to inhale in an attic

From the prompt list thing for Price x Reader? Please?

1k game here - no more please!

yknow im not really a big fan of sex pollen, but i gave it my best shot <3

2k of sex pollen smut with price! usual dubcon stuff because of sex pollen, but you and price are married so you're totally down <3 this is just pwp

"Hey, honey?" You call down the ladder, turning your find over in your hands.

"Yeah?" Price calls back, grunting as he drops a box on the floor below you.

You'd only felt bad for a few moments having him do all the heavy lifting, but you're perfectly content to dig through the contents of the attic. Neither of you had realized quite how full it was when you bought the house, but you'd much rather spend your day digging through old boxes than carrying them in from your moving van.

"Come take a look at this for me!"

You turn the little jar over again, shaking it just a bit and making the little flowers inside shift around the bottom. They're quite pretty - a bright pattern of red and pink, with a bit of black at the center - but you've never seen them before.

"What is it, love?" John asks from over your shoulder. You scooch closer to where he's propped on top of the ladder to the attic, forearms resting against the floor.

"Have you ever seen these before?" You pass the jar off to him, folding your legs beneath you and admiring John's shirtless form. He's a little red in the face, a lot sweaty, and you can't help but think about taking a short break from moving in...

"Hmm..." he turns the jar in his hand, just like you had. "I've never seen them before. Not too surprised, though." He shoots you a grin, offering the jar back. "Never did have much of a green thumb."

You take another peek, then pop the top of the jar open. The flowers are much more vibrant without the grime of the glass covering them, and you tip a few into your palm.

"Look," you say, offering your palm out to John. "They're so pretty!"

He takes a deep breath, leans a little further into the attic. "Not as pretty as you, love."

You roll your eyes, but can't resist the small smile. "That one was bad, even for you."

His grin is cheesy, his whole expression lovesick as he rests his chin on his folded arms. "I only speak the truth, love."

You can't help but giggle, tucking one of the flowers behind his ear. It's one of the only ones with a stem long enough to fit, and it looks quite silly next to his sweaty face and thick beard.

"There," you pat his cheek, shifting away to go back to your boxes. "Now you're as pretty as me."

"Now that will never be true."

———————————————————————

You don't see John again until that evening, when you're in the shower.

He'd spent the day downstairs, moving all your furniture about with his classic rock playing loud. You'd spent the day upstairs, finishing up your work in the attic and getting your bedroom and bathroom ready for the night while trying to drown his music out with the likes of ABBA and Madonna.

You'd brushed by each other a few times - playful dances, a bit of heavy petting over lunch - but had worked through what should have been dinner. As you wash the conditioner from your hair, you decide you should suggest pizza in bed for tonight.

You're humming to yourself when the shower door opens behind you, your husband already naked.

You smile when you get over the slight scare. "Hey, honey. Gonna join me?"

That's when you notice that something is a bit... off. He's naked but for the little flower behind his ear, which makes it easy to see how flushed his entire body is, and how obscenely hard his cock is between his legs.

"Oh," you can't help but blush a bit, turning to face him. "Feeling a little desperate, John?"

You mean it as a tease, but the sound that rips from your husband's throat is nearly broken. He's tearing into the shower before he bothers to answer, shoving you back into the slick tile and pressing every inch of skin he can against yours.

"John!" You gasp, giggling a bit when one of his rough hands jerks your thigh up and around his waist, the hot length of him resting between your folds. "Slow down, sweetheart, there's no rush."

He drops his forehead to yours, and you start to really see for the first time how needy he is. His face is almost tomato red under his whiskers, and his eyes are screwed up tight, almost like he's in pain.

"John?" You ask tentatively, one hand resting on his shoulder and the other cupping his warm cheek. "Are you alright, love?"

He shudders against you, only growing more tense. "Yeah, yeah love. Just... need to be inside of you, need it so fuckin' badly."

There's an edge to his voice you rarely hear, and there's a part of you that sparks in confusion, a bit of concern. But you arch your back for him, hike your leg a bit higher on his hip to truly spread yourself. "It's alright," you reassure, petting his cheek. "I'm always here for you, John, you know that."

He pushes into you too quickly, your body far from prepared to take something the size of him. But the slight pain melts into pleasure quickly as you melt in your husbands arms.

He's rough, rougher than he almost ever is, and you know your back will be bruised come morning. Every thrust in forces a loud gasp from you as you try desperately to breathe around his pace, your breaths syncing with his.

"Ugh," he moans against your neck, head dropping. "You feel... so good, so fucking good, love."

"You feel good too, John," you just barely manage to gasp out, nails digging deep into the muscle of his shoulders. "So- so big."

His moan is carnal, a rumbling sound that you can feel in your toes, and his thrusts somehow gets even rougher. The sound of his thighs slapping against yours is loud in the quiet bathroom, the sound of water dampened where it sprays against his back.

"God, you're like a vice," he hisses. "Tightest cunt, so good for me... perfect for me, just for me."

"Yes, yes," you chant, head resting against the tile. You rarely come from penetration alone, but hearing John's pleasure is enough for you to feel satisfied already. "Just for you, love, promise."

That's what finally pushes him over - he latches onto your neck, sucking a bruise there as he buries himself to the hilt, grinding himself as deep as he can go while moaning into your throat. You feel the spurts of his come inside of you, familiar after all these years together.

You're both panting in the aftermath, caught up in the pleasure.

You only realize he's still hard when he stands up fully, gripping your other thigh and helping you wrap it around his waist so he's fully carrying you.

"John?" You ask, shifting against him and causing you both to moan. "You're still...?"

He groans low in his chest as he carries you out of the room, confidently striding towards the bed. "I know."

"How... did you take something?"

He makes an offended sound, dropping you onto the bed and following you quickly enough after to keep himself inside of you. "Course not. Never needed any help in that department, not with you."

You're flattered, of course, but can't help but feel a little disconcerted by the fact that you can feel his come even though he's completely hard still.

"Alright," you say a moment later, tucking your legs as far up on his sides as they'll go.

He lifts his head just far enough for you to see him cock an eyebrow. "Alright?"

"Let's see how long you last, Captain."

You can feel his cock twitch inside of you, and he swallows your giggle with a kiss. He doesn't even bother to tease you back - to your slight disappointment - and instead begins to work his hips out of you, a slow drag out and a harsh push back in.

You both moan in sync, loud in the silence of your bedroom. You can't help but arch beneath him, trying to open yourself up more. As he starts to hit his stride, your knees tucked over his arms and pushed as high as he can without you pulling something, you feel the way the base of his cock rubs against your clit on every thrust in.

"Jo-John," you gasp, clinging desperately to his shoulders. "That feels so good, so good, love... oh, fuck, honey!"

"Yeah?" He grunts, face pulled tight above you. "Feel good? Gonna come for me, love? C'mon, attagirl, squeeze me tight... fuck, just like that, yes..."

He manages to get off much faster this time, but that doesn't seem to dull the intensity of his orgasm at all. He's still vocal, throwing his head back and letting all of his sounds out for you to hear. You manage to work your hips in just the right way to grind yourself against his flesh, and quickly find your own peak beneath him.

And still, it's not enough. You feel him working himself slowly against you minutes later, when you come down from your high.

You can't help but whine, your pussy oversensitive so soon after your orgasm. John doesn't pull out, though. He leans down enough to pepper kisses over your face, and begins to slowly fuck you again.

"J-John," you weekly protest, channel squeezing tight around him against your own will and drawing moans from both of you. "T-too sensitive, honey, I need a break."

"'m sorry," he pants against you, lips pressed to your cheek and leaving a small trail of spit. "I can't... I can't, love, need you too badly.

"John..."

"I know, I know, I'm sorry..." He sounds almost choked up above you, his voice cracked as he starts to pound into you faster and faster, forcing your legs higher. "I need to fuck you, love. Need to come. Can't... can't go another minute without- fuck, without you."

"You have me," you try, unable to keep yourself from trying to squirm away.

He snarls suddenly, forcing your legs so far back that your knees nearly brush the mattress. "Not yet," he spits, more beast than man above you. "Haven't... haven't given you enough."

You can only keen loudly, spine arching as the aftershocks of pain slowly morph themselves into pleasure.

Every thrust drags against oversensitive nerves, the clap of skin almost deafening. He brushes against your clit with just enough force to keep you on edge, keep you whining and moaning beneath him.

"Close," he pants, battering into you. "Just.. just a little... fuck, so close..."

"Come, John, please!"

Your own begging is what pushes him over the edge, your hole milking him for all that he's worth, even as you remain on edge.

He finally lets your legs fall from his arms, and you lightly shove at him until he falls away from you.

The both of you are panting as you lay side by side, staring up at your ceiling fan.

"Holy shit," you whisper, minutes or hours later. Your nerves feel like they're on fire, buzzing beneath your skin.

"Ditto," John echoes, sounding equally as rattled as you. It's almost impossible not to giggle at your poor husband sounding so shocked at his own stamina, and you roll into him so you can bury your face in his chest.

"What?" He asks, smile audible already. You don't even have to say anything for him to laugh too, your happiness always contagious. Soon enough he's wrapped himself around you, tucking his face safely into your hair and hiding his smile.

You fall asleep just like that, thoughts of pizza in bed long forgotten, and wonder if you can convince John to take whatever it is he must've had again sometime soon.

[randomfoggytiger]

The X-Files: the Madonna-Whore Complex

(Credit to @cecilysass, whose comment got these thoughts going.)

I have a theory.

In the fandom, the Madonna-whore complex is often attributed to Chris Carter's handling of Dana Scully. And, while I didn't give it much weight at first, going through his old interviews gave me pause.

THE CHRIS CARTER ANGLE

From 1993 to 1998 (where I stopped reading), Chris repeatedly stated that Mulder and Scully were (are) both sides of himself: “I’m equal parts of both characters,” says their creator. “I’m a skeptic like Scully, but I’m also ready to be enraptured, like Mulder.” Mulder represented his want to believe (and inner darkness-- which he doesn't outright state... but doesn't dissuade others from thinking, either) and Scully represented his skepticism with the paranormal or faith. A lot of his personal details leaked through into their lives-- Hegel Place, California childhood, a sunflower seed habit-- and his personal philosophy-- “Trusting people, generally, is bad,” he says with a slight smile-- became the backbone of the show. He used interesting turns of phrase when discussing his characters' names: "I grew up in L.A. where Vin Scully was the voice of God. Dana is just a nice soft woman’s name I like" and Carter gave The X-Files’ Mulder his mother’s maiden name.... And, as we all know, the repeating 10/13 and 11/21 are his (and Mulder's) birthday and his wife's birthday, respectively.

It could be as simple as a showrunner incorporating himself into his work... or it can make a lot of sense regarding Mulder and Scully's sexual misadventures.

Does this point to Chris Carter being a "puritan", shunning all sexual allusion? He seemed to be willing to hint at more-- letting Tea Leoni suggest a naked Gillian be cheek to cheek with David Duchovny, and teasingly gazing at David's deleted rear shot-- and was even persuaded to leave in the Millennium and Existence kisses (not to mention writing or cosigning the I Want to Believe "scratchy beard" scene.) But does a little lip-locking or a little nudity knock down the "never-nude" angle?

Ultimately, I think speculations on CC's "quirks" are fruitless: unless the man himself sits down and gives a clearer "yes" or "no", it would be equivalent to shooting blanks in the dark. Besides, the parallels don't need to be directly tied to his personal life to inform the decisions of (and for) his characters.

The parallels, though, can't be denied.

MADONNA-WHORE, SCULLY-MULDER

To draw back to the main point: both Scully and Mulder had complicated sexual hang-ups.

Scully wasn't "allowed" to definitively have sex with Ed Jerse while Mulder was only "allowed" sex under duress. Scully was "allowed" to go on normal dates while Mulder was only "allowed" porn fantasies (Chinga, Kill Switch, First Person Shooter) and an on-call phone sex operator. Scully was "allowed" past healthy relationships (except for the one Gillian created, ahem ahem) while Mulder wasn't "allowed" to have anything resembling joy or stability in his past.

All this to say: I think Mulder and Scully are two sides of the Madonna-whore complex: Scully is the Madonna, Mulder is the whore.

It makes sense, too: Scully followed the rules and was "too smart" to get entangled with people who degraded or hurt her-- which made her a little inhuman (according to Morgan, Wong, and Gillian.) Mulder too easily blurred professional lines-- which made him easily seduced by those who intended to harm him. Phoebe Green-- as written by CC-- mentioned Mulder's illicit past activities to draw him back in; and Never Again-- as vetoed by CC-- kept an element of denial about Scully and Jerse's bedroom activities.

(Scully herself was compared to the Virgin Mary once in canon-- though it was not, it appears, Chris Carter who gunned for the imagery; nor was it the writers' and director's intent to be anything other than a metaphor that was "on-theme" for the seasonal episode:

March 14, 1998

Q #16 – Hi, my name is Deborah. Two of my favorite episodes from this season are “Christmas Carol” and “Emily” and I found myself in some heated discussions with other fans who felt Scully was turned into a mere victim, that the religious iconography was heavy handed, being beaten over the head with the Virgin Mary / Scully kind of thing. None of which I agree with. I wondered if you could talk a little about the religious iconography in those two episodes and how you work that kind of thing in and was it as self-conscious as everyone else thinks it is?

FS – ...When we began again, we also took the Dickens story, A Christmas Carol, as our lead. So suddenly the story came together very fast and actually was one of the most satisfying to write for the three of us.

The use of the manger at the very beginning of “Christmas Carol” was deliberate. The idea of a “virgin birth” was conscious. I think the one image in that two parter that people really felt was heavy handed or was laying onto Scully as Virgin Mary idea was at the end of “Emily” there is a very slow dissolve to the stained glass and that was an image that the director chose to use because it was there on the set that day and all of us liked it. But I don’t think that we meant to suggest that she was anyway equivalent to the Virgin Mary and simply thought that, you know, it was a Christmas story and those parallels deepened the story we were telling.

Still.)

The Madonna-whore/Scully-Mulder complex explains a lot a lot a lot about their complicated sex lives.

If that be the case (whether consciously or subconsciously), it makes sense why Chris Carter only wrote a kiss for them after the world didn't end. Biblical mythology and fate were always his favorite tools, after all.

A RUN DOWN

The Jersey Devil-- written by Chris Carter-- is the first episode to tackle the boundaries of this theoretical complex.

Mulder introduces the theme with a porn magazine, at work.

Scully has to drive back to a birthday party, and Mulder immediately balks over the idea of her on a possible date.

Scully considers "a life", agrees to go out with Rob to a perfectly respectable establishment, and dances around the topic uncomfortably with Mulder later.

Mulder wants her to cancel-- not out of romantic jealousy, but because their working relationship might be hindered if her interests were divided elsewhere.

"Unlike you, Mulder, I would like to have a life"/"I have a life" brazenly slaps that motif down; and Scully on her respectable date, Mulder drawing nude jersey devil women at work, Mulder forming a charmed connection with a wild woman, Mulder getting peeved over Rob's call, and Scully leaving Rob for a place by Mulder's side continues to nail it home.

Mulder lunges for the lurid, the alluring, the impossible, with nothing but empty promises and unfulfilled expectations to show for his efforts. That pattern holds for romantic-- Fire, 3, War of the Coprophages, Syzygy (to a degree), The Field Where I Died, Kill Switch, Amor Fati, First Person Shooter-- and platonic-- Deep Throat, Krycek, CSM, Diana Fowley, sundry allies in-between-- relationships. "You think he [Deep Throat] does this because he gets off on it?" he challenged Scully, stunned when she responded, "No. I think he does it because you do."

Scully strides expectantly towards the normal, the stable, the predictable; and leaves all unsavory entanglements before they besmirch her dignity or self-worth (including the unconsummated romance with Daniel Waterston, according to Gillian Anderson.) Ed Jerse is an outlier, a symptom of how out-of-control Scully felt her life had become-- a rebellion against her expected or self-imposed or self-inflicted Madonna pedestal. "Hard to imagine, this day and age, someone having sex with a perfect stranger" played well with the medical concern of the AIDS epidemic and her distaste for losing control completely in the throes of passion.

When the Genderbender detective stated, "Guy blew an artery-- must be some roll-in-the-hay", Scully was annoyed immediately while Mulder looked a little too amused and intrigued.

CONCLUSION

I rest my case, Your Honor.

Thanks for reading~

Enjoy!

[shefightslikeagirl]

Hobby Drama: Emilie Autumn's Asylum [Part 1]

u/pillowcase-of-eels posted a link to their fandom-and-EA-history write up to the r/EmilieAutumn Reddit, and I thought it would be a fun project to share! 2 out of 7 parts have been posted to r/HobbyDrama so far.

Picture this: it's the early 2010s, somewhere in the western world. Instagram is a novelty, Harvey Weinstein runs Hollywood, almost no one on Earth leans one way or the other about RNA vaccines, and Donald Trump is that one real estate guy you vaguely remember from Home Alone 2. New player Lady Gaga is the most interesting thing to have happened to pop since Madonna, and the whole industry is attempting to catch up; Miley Cyrus is the chick who used to be on Hannah Montana; Melanie Martinez hasn't hatched yet. The time of Oddball Concept Divas is dawning just below the horizon.

You're a Bowie-loving student who skipped goth night at the club to tag along with your art school friends for a very special evening. You're a giddy sixteen-year old rocking cat ears, purple Wet 'n Wild eyeliner, a polyester petticoat, and a coffin-shaped backpack. You're an effete theater kid who sewed his own waistcoat for the occasion, but won't dare wear it to school the next day. You're a buff, bearded dude in a Venom shirt who's trying not to look too excited, since your girlfriend supposedly had to drag you here. You're a slightly bemused parent leaning against the back wall of the venue, sipping a warm half-pint, wondering if this isn't all a bit dark for a tween. ("It's called 'Victoriandustrial', mom," you've been told in the car, "and it's not dark, it's art.")

On stage is a pink-haired woman, with red porcelain-doll lips and a heart painted on her cheek. Among a set of antique consoles, twee tchotchkes, teacups and plastic rats, she pounces and twirls in glittery platform boots, tattered striped stockings, and a tightly laced crystal-studded corset that looks like it's splattered in blood. This is ostensibly a concert, but there is no live band. Where one would expect a drum kit or a bass, three bedazzled burlesque vixens act as back-up singers and dancers, with the occasional vaudeville act a fire-twirling number, a fan dance, throwing pastries and spitting tea into the audience. Lots of wholesome girl-on-girl kissing, too. The music on the backing track is a genre-bender of clanging beats and beeps, lofty orchestral strings, and the frantic hammering of a MIDI harpsichord, as the pink-haired frontlady sings of heartache and betrayal and drowning. Think if the Brontë sisters had invented industrial rock.

The audience gasps in excitement when the lady whips out a vamped-out wireless electric violin. With rockstar cool and virtuoso poise, she leans into the instrument, touches the bow to the strings, and tears out a single plaintive, impeccably distorted high note. Then her fingers go wild, and for a few seconds, everything is perfect suspended animation. Uncannily perfect, almost. Just behind you, you hear someone whisper: "Wait, is she miming it?"

[aliciavance4228]

Here Are Some Of My Headcanons About The Greek Gods

Zeus' favourite songs are Lightnin' Strikes by Aerosmith and Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin;

Hera watches Desperate Housewives,The Tudors and Game of Thrones (brother-sister incest supremacy);

Poseidon watches Finding Nemo and The Little Mermaid with Triton;

Hades hates NASA since 2006, when they declared that Pluto is not a real planet.

Demeter likes corn flakes and dislikes candy corn;

Hestia hates Santa Claus (he's desecrating chimneys with his long beard and big fat ass);

Athena knits mini clothes for her owls;

Hephaestus plays Minecraft in his free time when he's alone;

Ares plays God of War and thinks that the plot is stupid because no mortal could ever defeat Ares the Boss;

Aphrodite listens to Madonna, Beyonce, Rihanna and Christina Aguilera (and you know that lol);

Apollo has a Magic 8 Ball and sometimes asks it before making a decision;

Artemis also hates NASA since they named their spaceflight Apollo 11 instead of Diana 11;

Hermes loves pick pocketing and letter writing (it's a very underrated form of art);

Dionysus enjoys Oktoberfest and listens to Bach, purely because of his name;

[fiamat12]

I can’t get on board with any version of JD whether it’s real or a beard. He’s 24. Twice the age gap of L and A. It’s not positive publicity for N to be dating someone that young - it’s something Cher or Madonna do but only in their 60s😂

People have their own barometer of what's acceptable & that's perfectly fine! While I personally don't think I'd have enough in common in my late 30s w/an early 20s man, age gaps don't bother me as much as power imbalances do.

JD has been part of N's friend & colleague group for a few years now, so he's a trusted entity for her. He's also a working actor in his own right, having been on 2 high profile TV shows. He's not some schlump hanging on to N for clout.

L, on the other hand, couldn't say the same w/ A - although I do believe he always intended to keep it casual as he waited for another chance w/N. But L's down badness for N is another story...

With that said, I do think N & JD are just friends and whatever meaning people want to assign to some fun festival pics & a possible trip together, N is letting be assigned. Imo, her goal is to take the heat off of L - esp. after the pic. his groomer posted reignited ire toward him.

If I'm wrong, and she & JD are legit dating, don't worry. You'll only have to bear it until S4 starts filming. Her soulmate will always trump her Hot Girl Fall affair... 😏

[romana-after-dark]

Symptom of Being Human (A Room's on Fire FishBen Bonus Chapter)

Francisco Morales x Benjamin Miller

Series Masterlist: Main Masterlist : MainTaglist

Spotify playlist

Summery: Frankie and Ben share in intimacy

Warnings and Content: Read warnings for the full fic, but for this bonus chapter, repressed queer love, mentions and references of forced breeding and brainwashing Madonna. Poor communication. Deluuuuuusions!

Song fic to Symptom of Being Human by Shinedown, a song found on the spotify playlist for the fic.

***************

I can still remember me and Miss November Rain Beautiful and strange Always so inclined, coloring outside the lines Yeah, you were never on time

Francisco slammed his dresser drawer closed after yanking some pyjamas out. Maybe he kicked it a little, he wasn't sure.

He could sense the moment Ben walked in through the door even if he hadn't heard him. Ben was good at sneaking around.

"Why are you so pissy today."

It was the glib in his voice that irked Francisco the most, the stpring in his step as he padded over to where Francisco was braced over the dresser.

"I'm not pissy." But even still, he stiffened to Ben's touch as he wrapped his arms around his lovers middle.

Benjamin kissed Francisco's neck in an attempt to relax him, closing his eyes to his scent, but Francisco rolled his shoulders and jerked himself out of Ben's grasp, taking two steps away. He hated this, he hated caring so much, he hated it being a secret, he hated having to sneak around when Pope could just have them whenever and however he wanted. It wasn't fair.

Ben's arms dropped to his side. "Hey. What's wrong?" He asked, genuine, but Francisco was still irritated. "C'mon, baby, talk to me..."

The older man scoffs. "You're surprised I don't wanna suck your dick when it's gonna taste like her?"

You've always been slightly awkward, kinda weird Upside down and not all here What's wrong with me and you is crystal clear

Benny's laugh was sardonic. "Oh, is that what the issue is?"

"Yes, that's what the issue is, Ben!"

He wanted to scoff at him, but sensed Francisco wasn't in the mood to be teased for his jealousy. "Frankie, baby," Benny placed a careful hand on Franciscos shoulder, turning him. Frankie faced him, but his head was hanging and not making eye contact. "Baby please look at me." He cupped the patchy beard and coaxed Franciscos face up to look at him.

"You were late..." Frankie mutters, eyes ever-avoidant. "You were late to be with me because you wanted her."

"Frankie..." Ben places a soft kiss on his lips. "I'm sorry, okay? But it's not any different than you and Santi-"

"Yes it is!!!" Frankie steps back, but the bed was right there so he stumbles. Ben reaches for him, both of them falling onto the bed but sitting upright.

Benny's hand is on Francisco's chest. "Easy now..." He kissed the mans cheeks, then the corner of his mouth, then his lips. "I'm doing this for us, okay? The sooner she's pregnant, so sooner we can be together."

Sometimes I'm in a room where I don't belong And the house is on fire and there's no alarm And the walls are melting too How 'bout you?

Francisco was hesitant to believe him, but the way Benny looked at him, adoring blue eyes and his face framed in shaggy, dirty blonde hair... it was hard not to fall into his promises. "What do you mean..."

His eyes lit up, knowing that Francisco was listening. Ben smiled. "Once Madonna has the savior, everything will change, don't you understand?" He grabbed Frank's hand, pulling it to his chest as he scooted closer. "Pope will be so busy, his only focus will be raising the savior with Madonna, fullfiling the prophesy... he'll be too preoccupied with her to want you like that, it can just be us."

Shaking his head, Frank was not convinced. Pope wasn't like that. Pope was obsessive, possessive, he needed everyone and everything to belong to him. "Benjamin, that... I don't think that's what's gonna happen."

"But I do!" Ben was practically bouncing on the bed with excitement; his evergy never ceased to amaze Francisco, constantly animated by the next new exciting thing, but always coming back to Francisco. "Once the savior is born, well, the world will change, Frankie! Things will finally be allowed to be good." He kissed his lovers knuckles. "And what can be more good than us being together?"

Frankie didn't believe any of this for a second. He didn't believe there was a savior, or that they were gods... Ben did, and Benjamin Joseph Miller was an unstoppable force... but Santiago was an immoveable object. Still, as Ben began kissing his lips, his tongue sliding into his mouth, Francisco was, in fact, a moveable object. To Santiago, he was a stoppable force. Franisco felt like the rope in a game of tug of war, and push and pull between the two men in a covert battle.

Ben would never ever outwardly disrespect Pope. Pope was what Ben wanted to be. He admired Pope in a way he used to admire his older brother, long before jealousy and anger and drugs tore them apart. Benjamin would do anything for Santi's approval, and the look on his face when Ben was under him always made Frank jealous... then he had to remind himself that was a rare occurence compared to how often Ben was the voyer in those situations, and how much harder it much be for him knowing how often it happened behind closed doors.

He never even spoke badly about Pope in these intimate moments, Frank learning quickly to not say anything negative about their leader or even hint at disloyalty, because it always turned into a fight. Ben defended their friend to the death. What Ben couldn't understand, however, was that Frankie loved Pope too. Santiago was a good leader, he kept things prosperous in their community and he was like a brother to Frankie. He'd never known a life outside of Pope... but he was not perfect, and he wished Ben could see that. Unfortunately, to Ben, questioning Santi at all meant questioning his infallibility as a God, and if he questioned that... Ben's entire reality fell.

I've never been the favorite, thought I'd seen it all 'Til I got my invitation to the lunatic ball And my friends are coming too How 'bout you? Don't worry, it's all just a symptom of being human

"Benjamin..." Frank moaned into the boys mouth and he palmed him over his jeans.

"Fuck, love when you say my full name."

He knew he was irresistible, he know he was attractive in both looks and charm when he wanted to turn it all, that's why he spent so much time between the legs of women in their commune, on top of Frankie or under Santi. Everyone wanted him, and those that didn't... well, they got him either way.

"Off." Ben ordered, unzipping Frankie's pants and tugging them down when he lifted his hips up. Francisco soon found himself laying down on his bed in his boxers with Ben grinding into him. His pants were still on, the rough material adding to the pressure of their cocks grinding together.

Their hands explored each other's bodies as if this was a new landscape, as it they weren't intimately familiar already. Ben squeezed the soft of his sides as Frankie felt the hard of his chest. It didn't matter how different they were, quiet and loud. Fire, and a gentle flower waiting to be scorched like the earth around it. The flower simply basked in the warmth of the sun, unaware it was withering away.

Unpack all your baggage, hide it in the attic where You hope it disappears This all seems so familiar, but it doesn't feel like home It's just another unknown

Nothing mattered in these moments; Benjamin was the only thing that would calm his racing mind.

Ben sat up, still straddling Francisco and pulled his shirt over his head. Francisco was always mesmerized by this view, the way Benjamin's muscles flexed and moved, the dim light of the shitty lamp casting shadows across his chest. Taught and strong, lean muscles gave way further down to the jutting of his hipbones and golden tan skin. Right at the ends of his abs was a trail of brown hair, much darker than that on his head and face, cut off just barely before his pubic hair by his low-slung jeans.

Frankie couldn't help but gaze up at the sun god... in moments like this, with this view... Francisco could fool himself into believing the god-hood of his paramour. If God was real, Benjamin was his divine gift. Nights alone with him were the closest to heaven that he'd ever be, considering all Francisco had done in his lifetime.

"You're beautiful..." he murmured up him.

Ben's wide grin softened, folding back over Ben to pepper kisses all over Frankie's aged face. "Not as beautiful as you, darl'n"

You've always been slightly awkward, kinda weird Upside down and not all here Right or wrong, it's all so crystal clear

Francisco was not an open person. He didn't let his emotions show, good or bad. Not the way Will expressed his pain or his love, the way Pope expressed his rage, or how Ben expressed his joy. Nothing like that came easy to him. He was aware of the way Madonna watched him pensively, probably wondering why he didn't talk to her, why he didn't fuck her outside of when Pope dragged them together for a threesome...

With Benjamin, he was laid bare, naked and venerable, allowing Benjamin inside him physically and emotionally into the deepest reaches. They were as connected as two people could be, and no one saw Frankie's heart the way Ben did. No one could fill him the way Ben did.

"Perfect, fucking perfect." Ben grunted into Frank's ear as he fucked into his hole, spreading him open. Francisco laid back on the bed, his knees bent and pressed up against his stomach where Ben held there, squeezing his aching member between himself.

Frankie whispers, a contrast to Ben's loud noise, "I love you, Benjamin."

"I love you too, Francisco, don't you ever forget that" Ben moved to his mouth, kissing him and only stopping to mumble against his lips. "She can't compare to you, okay? She doesn't matter. No pussy can compare to you, got it?"

"Got it." He did. Later, when Ben left before daylight and Francisco was there alone in bad, reaching over to Ben's side just to feel the bit of his body heat left behind, doubt would creep in. When he heard Ben bragging to Will about the latest girl he railed over a fence post or against a wall, he would wonder why he wasn't enough for Ben. When he saw his handsome lover trying to fuck a baby into Madonna or kissing Santiago, he'd be reminded that the sex they shared was not unique to Benny, he didn't need him for that.

But as Ben spread his legs, jerking Frankie's weeping cock and thrusting into him, never stopping kissing him, not even long enough for them to breath. He felt like he was Ben's entire world.

The dizzying orgasm made Francisco feel like maybe, just maybe things could be different. Maybe, if Madonna got pregnant, Pope would lose interest in Francisco; what use is someone who couldn't give him children?

Maybe then, him and Ben could hold hands out in the open.

We're all just passing through Passengers on a ship of fools We're all just passing through Passengers on a ship of fools

********************

Not gonna lie, friends in my phone, I teared up writing this.

I write some FishBen on my main, and it's always a lil angsty but happy ending bc they love each other. Deeply. Even when I don't write them romantic, they are very very close, Like in Leather and Lace Universe.

Here, though.... :( they can't be out, they are just angsty and love

Anyway Im obsessed with this song and listened to it for an hour on my drive planning this fic.

Up next, Steve x reader x javi for toxi <3

Please interact with the story in one way or another, im reaching the limit of tags per post so i may be removing people from the tag list if you dont interact at all. I should recognize your name.

How to keep up with the story!

Comment on this masterlist that you want to be tagged and I'll tag you in updates (If you ask to be tagged, I ask you at least like the fic. Likes dont do anything to spread the work, but it at least lets me know you're still reading.)

Follow @romana-updates and/turn on notifications

Follow the tag Rooms on fire

@hon3yboy @winniethewife @femmeanonymelives @yorksgirl @pockcock @neverwheremoonchild @casa-boiardi @meveispunk @survivingandenduring @criticalarchitecture @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog @obscurexsorrows @hellfire-state-of-mind @christinamadsen @pimosworld @princessanglophile @rubyfruitjungle @simple-lovebot @missdictatorme @campingwiththecharmings @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @javier-penas-wifexx420 @stefani-topaz @alwaysmicado @mjnomaryjane @incorrectclassicbookquotes @axshadows @ghostslillady @movievillainess721 @justagalwhowrites @charethcutestory02 @gogh-with-the-flow @justafandomgvrl @katw474 @loveable-liar @arrozconpepitoria @minigirl87 @runa-falls @pedge-page @angel-of-the-moons @beefrobeefcal @pixielou5 @miraclesabound @oliveksmoked @mjnomaryjane @bubble-pop-eclectic @corazondebeskar-reads @charethcutestory02 @pedroshotwifey

If I forgot someone or you'd like to be added/removed LMK!

[b4mpyre-k1zz3s]

Hiii! I was wondering if you could write a angst/fluff fic on Bam, where the reader is a female dirt bike rider, and they absolutely hate each other but they have to work together bc they're both in Jackass, and the reader ends up getting severely hurt doing a stunt on the dirt bike? maybe this is based in 2002ish. I luvv ur work btw <333

Crash and Burn

Bam write Y/N off immediately, and her teasing doesn’t help her case, especially after she gets a leg up on him, but Ryan makes a bet that helps him see things in another light.

Bam Margera X Fem!Reader, Ryan Dunn X Fem!Reader

(Fluff, angst)

3k Words

Warnings: Highly suggestive content, Madonna-Whore complex, misogyny, injury, blood, hospitals, broken bones, alcohol, flirting, enemies to lovers

An: Thank you so much for the request! Yet again, me returning to the whole Madonna-Whore complex thing XD I love writing for bolder Y/Ns, and this lady definitely fits the bill! I got to doma lot of research on motocross for this fic, and I always enjoy the more research intensive focus, so no matter how niche, please feel free to send any requests my way!

After Bam got word they would be flying out this female motocross rider alongside Tony Hawk and Matt Hoffman to film the loop, he kind of wrote you off without a second thought. Just went back to helping the guys set up. So when you pulled up on set that morning and took off your helmet, he was a little confused at how…normal you looked. In fact, you were pretty damn hot. Holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the sun, Bam peered around a ramp to squint at you watching like some weirdo as you, Matt, and Tony chatted it up with Knoxville by the lake you were set to jump into. “The hell’s she doin’ here?”

Ryan, who was helping carry a large piece of plywood from the bed of Chris’ truck, leaned the board against a half built structure before glancing over towards you, “You mean Y/N?” Blinking in disbelief at that, Bam’s jaw practically hit the ground, “Wait, that’s Y/N?” He had this idea of you before you even stepped foot on set. You know the type: the tattoos, a couple holes in your face, or some kind of edgy hair color- in his eyes, as masculine as a girl could get without growing a beard. I mean, there were attractive women in the skateboarding world, but Bam wouldn’t look at them the same way he looked at hot chicks at the bar or something. Whatever. Who did you think you were anyways, walking around like you were hot shit? Probably only there because MTV was desperate for them to get more sex appeal on the show. It’s not like you would be doing anything crazy.

How wrong Bam was. Your stunt was first, and after they got you suited up in all the compulsory safety garb as dictated by standards and practices, you actually landed the thing in two tries- two fucking tries! After that first attempt, Bam didn’t think you were even getting up after he saw that spill you took off your bike, the way you hit the ground like a ragdoll. The air swam with that silent worry while everyone was kind of scared to say anything, (and you know it’s bad when that group of guys shut up) but before Jeff could punch in that last digit of 9-1-1 into his phone, there you went, stumbling up with a smile to excitedly shout over to Rick, “Can we try that one again?”

After you trugged out of the lake to much applause after your second and last attempt, Tony and Matt went off to film their segments, and while you always like watching the big air that bikes can get, you had something else on your mind. You walked over to where Bam was sitting off to the side and strapping on a pair of wrist braces. Glancing down at where he sat on the grass, you toweled off your hair. “What’re you gonna do?” Your shadow blocked out the sun as you looked over Bam, who shot a scowl up at you, “Huh?” A fat drop of water dripped off of your clothes and hit him right between the eyes, making him flinch. You didn’t seem to care, “BMX, dirt bikes- what’s your deal?” Bam stood up to meet your gaze, which he literally could, given the fact you were pretty similar in height, “I skate.”

You already knew who he was and what he was gonna do- I mean, in 2002, who didn’t know who Bam Margera was? And that’s exactly why you wanted to fuck with him. “Wait- seriously?” There was this glimmer of disbelief in your eyes at his simple answer before your knees buckled a little. “Holy shit!” And you started laughing. “That is just…god, that’s adorable…” It's not like you could help yourself- he sounded so proud of himself and that little boy sport of his. If Bam didn’t hate you before, he certainly did now. And while he could bring up the fact that you seemed totally cool with the fact that Tony skateboarded to try and call you out on your bullshit, he had a better idea.

He couldn’t do it. Five attempts, and Bam still couldn’t make it all the way around the loop. Maybe it was something wrong with his stance or the way he held his legs- he would’ve tried it until the sun went down if it meant he could spite you, but Jeff cut him off after that last try where he missed the pad completely and fell about ten feet to the patchy grass to land directly on his head- something about liabilities and the blood that was now dripping from his forehead. And guess who was the first person he saw when he groggily blinked his eyes open to someone knocking on that dumbass helmet they forced him to wear. “How’d that go for you?” See, he wanted to sound all confident and badass telling you off, but it came out a lot more pathetic than he intended as he mumbled out, “Fuck off…”

“Aww, don’t be mean…this is one hell of a first impression from you. Keep this up and the only thing you’ll be sleepin’ with tonight’s that dinky little board’s yours.” Yeah, you think you’re soooo fucking funny, huh? He got plenty of ass, thank you very much- enough to not feel the need to suck up to you just because you were a chick. “Listen, Y/N- whatever the hell your name is,” Bam tried to gather his bearings as he staggered to his feet, “I couldn't give a fuck if you were Ricky Carmichael’s secret love child-“ He got all up in your face as he continued like some kid getting into a fight on the playground while also trying to sound totally nonchalant, “I don’t need some amature dirt bike chick like you gettin’ all on my ass about my shit! Just- leave me the fuck alone.” The crew gathered around to get a front row seat to the action, but nobody was backing Bam up. Not even Ryan, who always had his ass even when he was blatantly wrong. In fact, when he looked back at him for some sort of escape here, he could’ve sworn his best bro was making cartoon heart eyes at you behind those sunglasses. Holy shit. How could this get any fucking worse?

Well, there’s something in seeing a very angry, fully grown man in protective gear that doesn’t quite fit him right that you found hilarious. There was this holding back a laugh sparkle in your eye that told Bam exactly how seriously you took his anger, “Alright, tough guy. Don’t get your knee pads in a wad...” His jaw clenched as you reached out to pat him on the shoulder condescendingly, delivering one final blow to Bam’s fragile little ego, “Maybe you should stick to something you’re good at, like pushing your buddies around in shopping carts or throwing yourself into bushes?”

Cocky MTV millionaire skater boy, walking around like he’s the best thing on wheels with those shitty tattoos and that dumbass facial hair and those big eyes that almost made him look like a baby deer. Yeah, like Bambi- you’d have to use that one later. But there was something to his blind overconfidence that you found, for lack of a better word, sexy.

Thank god for the fact they went to the bar that night: a chance to get away from the host of shit that happened that day- or at least, it would be if Ryan was able to keep Y/N’s name out of his mouth. The fact that he was so smitten with you was starting to make Bam believe that his best friend was either completely blind or some kind of masochist. “She is such a fucking cunt- what god’s name do you see in her?” Thank god the bar was loud enough that their conversation couldn’t be heard over the chatter and the other guys’ bad behavior. Ryan just shook his head at his obliviousness, “You’ve got no idea what’s going on, do you?” Bam, who couldn’t usually see beyond his own nose, still had no clue what he was saying- this chick was a bitch who hated him for no reason, end of story.

Taking a swig of his beer, Ryan had this demeanor about him like he was imparting ancient wisdom onto him, “Let’s ignore the fact that she’s ridiculously hot, because all motocross chicks are hot-“ Bam cut him off, “The hell you mean?” Dunn sighed before he began to explain, “Have you ever watched a woman ride a dirt bike? It's the goddamn hips, man. I can’t explain it- point is, she was flirting with you all day- frankly, I’m jealous!” He made it sound like basic logic because, to everyone except Bam, it kind of was. In the other corner of the room, Steve-O just broke a cue stick over his thigh and was using it’s splintered remains to threaten a guy who he swore cheated him out of a hundred bucks, but the entire bar might as well have been dead silent as Bam tried to process all of this. He could only scoff at his best friend’s words- clearly, he was under the influence of this she-devil. “No way...” He was used to chicks throwing themselves at him left and right, so he took any signs of boldness from a woman as a threat to him and his masculinity.

“I’m serious! Some women just work like that…You know what?“ Ryan loudly put his pint glass down on the sticky bar top and turned to him, “I’m willing to bet money- actual money on this.” Bam was a little surprised at his eagerness, but more than that he wanted to prove him wrong. “You know what? Sure. If this chick flirts with me tomorrow- by your definition- I owe you fifty bucks.” “Deal.”

Luckily for Bam the next day, most of the other guys were too distracted filming that slip & slide stunt on the repurposed plywood loop that got configured into some sort of hellish ski jump to notice what was going on between him and you. As they went through filming their bits, you had a lot of time to yourselves to fuck around. Bam would’ve completely ignored you that next day filming after all that bullshit yesterday, but Ryan’s little bet seemed to motivate him to be more of an obnoxious ass (which, mind you, he was really good at). You were idly chatting with Dunn about which of the guys you thought was going to eat the most shit with this piece, when Bam suddenly jutted into your conversation, “Y’know, I don’t get what the big deal is with the whole dirt bike thing-“ Plopping down next to where his buddy was sitting on one of the various plywoods structures that littered the shoreline of Camp Payne, that slight defensive tone seemed to slip through, “I mean, skatin’s way harder- you don’t have some thing between your legs doin’ all the work for you...”

Ryan actually choked on his beer, but honest to god, there was no euphemism behind Bam’s words. You would’ve thought he just got slapped by the speed the visible realization hit his face after those words left his mouth. Idiot. He tried to play off the fact he just said that to a chick by pretending it was totally intentional, but his laughter was tinged with nerves. But you didn’t feel threatened or try to defend yourself- in fact, his whole “open mouth, insert foot” slip up gave you an idea. Coyly cocking your head to one side, you took a few slow steps toward Bam who was starting to turn this really cute shade of pink. “Really?” Everyone was in their lake gear for the stunt, so the fact that you were half naked didn’t help the tension as you leaned in close- a breath shy of touching him- to whisper right into Bam’s ear slowly, drawing your words out, “Well, i think your problem is that you don’t understand that feeling of riding something so powerful…” Teasingly, your hands slid down the length of your thighs, “The cold, hard steel between your thighs, the-”

Your little tease was cut off by Ryan toppling backwards off of whatever he was sitting on, because even though your words were this soft, drawn out coo only intended for the ears of the embarrassed, flustered mess in front of You, you were apparently barely loud enough for him to overhear. Not that you cared. You were more preoccupied with the wide eyed, borderline slack jawed expression plastered on Bam’s face. Satasified, you spun around on your heel, slapped your ass, and walked away, leaving the two men alone in the silence. “Holy shit…” Well, that is until Ryan eventually spoke up, ”Dude, you owe me fifty bucks.” Still trying to process what the hell just happened, the only response Bam could conjure up was a nod, “Yeah. I guess I do.” “So pay up.” Turning to Ryan, Bam slapped his outstretched hand away, “I ain’t got no pockets! I’ll get’ya later...”

From that day on, the teasing between you and Bam started getting less mean and more playful. MTV wanted more seasons, then a movie, and as such you’d be seeing Bam a whole lot more. Although he got on your nerves half the time (yet again, anyone who spent more than a minute around him would say the same), a part of you found the way he could be such a little bitch really endearing, not to mention that it was equally as fun to piss him off as it was to fluster him, neither of which took much effort. Sure, to the rest of the world, Bam was this insane badass with no regards for his own safety, but all it took for you to make him melt was you wrapping your arms around his shoulders from behind and squishing your boobs up against his back. While totally innocuous to you, that one encounter by the lake completely changed his mind when it came to that hot motocross chick. What simple creatures men are…

You couldn’t remember for the life of you what magazine wanted that photo shoot they flew you in for while they were promoting the second movie, because you were more excited at the prospect of messing with your favorite boy toy. “I’m still surprised you got that Right Guard commercial, seeing as you care so much about bathing and staying clean…” Standing behind in the cover of a trailer, you stripped down to your underwear to change into the tight, black riding gear they had for you, not even bothered by the way Bam was shamelessly watching you from where he leaned against the trailer wall. “Yeah- An’ i'm wondering whose bright idea it was to dress you in that…” Turning to press your hands against Bam’s shoulders, you put on a mock pout, “Aww, c’mon Bambi! I thought you’d like a woman in leather…” The little back and forth the two of you had wasn’t the only thing that made Bam crack a grin, judging by the way he was shamelessly sneaking glances at your half naked body, “Not saying I don’t like it…”

Now, what you were slated to do was a pretty basic jump, one you’ve done maybe a hundred times before: one ramp, over a gap where the cast was lined up underneath you, and down to the other ramp. Your overconfidence here may have contributed to the outcome of your stunt. Picture, if you will, this photo sequence in some magazine: first shot, you making your way up the ramp, the next moment you’re airborne, soaring up- photo two, photo three- then the fourth, after you began your decent, when your front wheel barely grazes the lip of the ramp, and the fifth, when helmet makes contact with plywood and your bike goes flying off into the background. In fact, the moment when you felt your brain bump against the back of your skull as your head sickeningly cracked against the wood was the moment anyone noticed anything was amiss, and who was the first to run to your aid after you skidded down to curl up at the base of the ramp? “Jesus- fuck!” Yep, there Bam went after you, practically shoving Dunn out of his way to dash towards you like a gazelle on the Savannah. The shouted orders not to move you from the medic were mere white noise in his ears next to the thrumming of his own heartbeat.

Bam showed up at the hospital quickly, around the same time you got there, but the only reason he didn’t run into you sooner was that he spun on his heel halfway through his dash towards the elevator to make a U-turn for the gift shop and grab you flowers. Even so, his concern was palpable when he actually got to your floor and started questioning the nurses on where you were, despite you not even being there for five minutes. Though you could very well hear Bam and his little tizzy through the door that was left open as he asked fifty nurses where they took you, he was completely, totally chill when he walked in the door, like some switch flipped in his head.

“So, how is it?” Sitting across the room in one of those stiff hospital chairs, Bam dropped the bouquet of periwinkle bellflowers onto the white sheets at the foot of your bed. Glancing down at it, you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut at the shooting pain going up your arm, “Dude- this sucks fuckin’ ass…” Ask him when he met you what he would do if you broke your elbow, and he would probably say something along the lines of high fiving Dunn or having a drink to celebrate, but not now. “Don’t sweat it. I broke my elbow seven times- you’ll be fine, I promise.” You smiled softly at Bam’s comforting words in the silent ER room, thinking about how he must really care about you.