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bruisedboys · 1 year

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Eddie loves his shy girl so much, he’ll always call her “my girl” or “the wife” “the mrs” around others just to watch how red she gets 🥹🥹 but soon he finds that calling her the wife feels natural and right, he realizes she’s the only girl he ever wants

he totally does omg. bro def calls you his wife with absolutely no shame. thank u for the ask angel!!

summary: eddie calls shy!you a lot of names. all of them make you flustered beyond belief

shy!fem!reader 1k words

Steve’s invited you all to drinks to celebrate him and Robin finally copping a job that isn’t slinging ice cream or sitting behind a video store counter all day. Eddie’s helping you pick out an outfit. It’s taking longer than you’d expected. Something about posing for Eddie makes you so nervous you can barely walk.

“Are you done yet?” Eddie’s voice on the other side of the door is far from impatient, even though it should be by now.

You grumble something incoherent instead of answering. Eddie heard you and laughs.

“Y/N,” he says seriously. The effect is ruined because you can hear his smile in the way he says your name. “We’re gonna be late, baby. Come out and show me the dress. I bet this is the one.”

You stare at yourself in the mirror for a few seconds. It is a nice dress. It’s a good length and makes your chest look nice, the colour looks pretty on your skin. Still, you’re embarrassed. You don’t like dressing up. It feels attention-seeking.

You scrub your face with both hands and take a big breath. “Alright, fine.”

You turn away from the mirror before you can stop yourself and yank the bathroom door open. Eddie’s waiting for you on your bed, sitting pretty, if a little slouched. He has bad posture. But his back goes rigid when he sees you — he sits up straight and lets his jaw drop.

“Babe,” he half-whispers, totally in awe, his eyes blown wide. He’s definitely laying it on thick but you can sense the genuineness underneath it all. His eyes traverse a path down your body and back up again, leaving your skin burning. And he hasn’t even touched you yet. “Baby. Honey. Darling. You look amazing.”

You flush all over despite yourself. “Eddie,” you say, chiding.

Eddie pretends to look offended. “What?” He leaps off the bed and gets one hand around your waist, the fabric of your dress shushing under his touch. “I’m serious, Y/N. You’re a real stunner, you know that?”

His other hand finds your elbow and pushes all the way up to your bicep, his fingers pressing into your skin. You burn like a furnace where he touches you. You knew this part was coming.

“Thank you, Eddie,” you say, genuine underneath all the shyness.

Eddie looks like he’s about to say something more but you’re saved from his doting by the phone next to your bed ringing loudly. You make to get it but Eddie beats you to it.

“Hello?” He says into the phone, sounding half-annoyed. “Oh. Hi, Steve. Yeah, no, we’re coming. The Mrs is just getting ready.” A pause in which Eddie meets your eye and winks. You flush even worse than you already were. Eddie goes back to talking to Steve. “Uh-huh. Yeah, we’ll be there in ten. Bye, Harrington.”

Eddie puts the phone back and you try to compose yourself. The Mrs, he’d called you. You feel like you could die.

Meanwhile Eddie’s grabbing his jacket from the bedpost and shrugging it on. “He’s badgering us about being late,” he says, pushing his arms through the sleeves. “We better get going, dove.” He looks up at you, half in his jacket. “Do you need me to carry anything for you?”

My heart? You think. Then maybe your chest wouldn’t hurt so much. You shake your head.

“No, um. That’s okay.” You push your hair behind your ears and try not to show how much he’s undone you with his antics. “I’ll just grab my purse.”

Eddie smiles at you. “Okay. I’ll meet you in the car?”

You nod. “Yeah.”

Ten minutes later you’ve arrived at the bar and Eddie’s leading you inside with a hand at the small of your back. He smells good, like the cologne you’d bought him forever ago that he wears basically every day.

You step inside the semi-crowded bar and Eddie spots your friend group before you do.

“They’re over there, by the window,” he says, pointing. “C’mon.”

He takes your hand and pulls you in the direction of your friends. You let him guide you and he pleases, his hand a warm weight in yours. You stare at the back of his head until you arrive at the table. Steve, Robin, Nancy and Jonathan are all here.

“Munson!” Robin cheers. Your eyes zero in on the drink in her hand and you think she’s maybe already a bit tipsy. Then she spots you and beams. “Y/N!”

You smile back. “Hi, Robs. Hi, everyone, sorry we’re late.” You give a sheepish laugh and glance at Eddie. “My fault.”

“It was worth it though, right?” Eddie says enthusiastically, to the group at whole. He throws an arm around your shoulder and jostles you gently. “Doesn’t my girl look great?”

My girl. Your face burns. There’s a chorus of agreement from around the table — it makes you feel better but not better enough that you’re not still flushing furiously.

“Eddie,” you mumble, avoiding everyone’s eyes and staring at the tabletop instead. You elbow him in the side, too gentle for what you feel he deserves.

Eddie laughs loudly. “What?” He asks, even though he knows exactly what.

You huff and wish the floor would swallow you up. When it doesn’t, you let Eddie pull you into the booth next to Robin. It’s a tight squeeze and Eddie’s thigh presses into yours, his jeans warm and rough on your skin where your dress rides up your thighs.

You think Eddie notices this too because he lets his hand fall to your lap instead of his own, spreading his hand over your thigh, his fingers grazing your bare skin. He squeezes you and you try not to show how much he affects you.

“Drinks?” He asks you, like everything is completely normal and you’re not a nervous, flustered wreck right now.

“Okay,” you say, unable to get more than one word out.

Eddie grins wolfishly. You think he’s probably planning on being like this all night. You don’t mind as much as you should.

“Okay,” you say, unable to get more than one word out.

Eddie grins wolfishly. You think he’s probably planning on being like this all night. You don’t mind as much as you should.

#★ mal writes!#ღ eds #eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x shy!reader fluff #eddie munson x shy!reader #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson drabbles #✉️

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vivwritesfics · 9 months

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Keep On Rolling - MV1

Chapter One

Summary: Lando's best friend having feelings for anyone on the grid? Impossible, right? She worked with them, sharing her friendship with the grid with the world via the FormulaY/N youtube channel.

After film a video including... spicy water (alcohol), everything changes between her and a certain world champion. Good thing she hasn't had a crush on him since his F1 debut, right?

Right?

2K words

Hello everybody! Long break, I know (life throws curveballs), but I'm taking the blog in a different direction. Hope you guys like my first F1 imagine, I'm really passionate about it.

Series Masterlist

"Hello everybody and welcome back to another episode of Paddock Pals," Y/N said to the camera, holding her microphone in her hand. "Now, if you're new to the channel or don't remember the first installment, Paddock Pals is where cameraman James and I go around the Formula One paddock, dressed in the best disguises, and try to have the weirdest interview possible with the drivers," she explained. "Whoever recognises us first wins the game."

Y/N L/N was maybe the biggest name in Formula One youtube. She brought something to the game that nobody else had - access to the drivers.

Growing up as best friends with Lando Norris had its perks. She got to make a career out of her friendship and got to travel the world. She wasn't much into the sport until she met Lando. Now, she was a woman obsessed.

"As you can probably tell, James and I are not yet in disguise. We're filming this the night before so we had head straight there tomorrow, catch them bright, early, and unaware." She was stood in her hotel room in Australia, going over the previous installment of Paddock Pals. "Last time we got caught out by the honey badger himself, Daniel Riccardo. So, this time around, Danny Ric is going to be helping us out by letting us do a pretend interview with him when we need to."

The cameraman walked over to the mirror, showing himself. "This year we're making predictions on who we think will catch us out. I think it'll be Charles this year," he said. "He's been suspicious for a while, always asking when we're doing the next episode."

"As always, I think it's going to be Lando," said Y/N when the camera turned back to her. "I always try to leave him until last because, if anybody is going to catch us out, it's going to be him."

After that, James cut the camera. They needed a break, a moment to gather themselves together. "You really think Charles?" Y/N asked as they changed over the head of her microphone. Usually, it was the FormulaY/N microphone, but she changed it to a generic black one for the Paddock Pals video. "Not Max or Oscar?"

"And why would I say Max?" Asked James with a grin. Y/N glared, but she didn't push. Charles was a good choice. He spent almost as much time with Y/N as Lando did. Her audience loved him, and she lived to keep her audience happy. That was what brought in the money. "Want to put a wager on this one?"

Y/N shook her head. She positioned herself ready to start filming again. They filmed late into the night, Y/N showing off the props and the outfits they were going to wear for the rest of the video. Her phone buzzed once, and they had to film the whole section again.

By the time they were finished they had barely any battery left in the camera and were ready for bed. James had left to go to his own room but Y/N was sitting on her bed, texting Lando. It wasn't anything important, wishing him good luck for tomorrow and complaining about the heat in Australia.

And then it was a restless sleep. When Y/N woke up in the middle of the night, she stayed up scrolling through her comments. It didn't make getting to sleep any easier for her, scrolling through the comments on her youtube videos and social media posts. There were positive fans, most of them seemed to be young women. But there were some, commenting on her appearance and calling her friendship with the grid fake. Some said she didn't know what she was talking about when it came to Formula One, that she was only there because she was sleeping with Lando.

Of course, none of it was true. It played over in Y/N's head nonetheless. Normally, Y/N would text Lando when this happened, but he was asleep. And sleep was desperately what he needed leading up to the qualifying.

Eventually, Y/N fell asleep, her phone still in her hand.

Y/N and James woke up to their alarms in the early hours of the morning. They got up, set up the camera and got into their disguises. "You're so lucky I was obsessed with special affects as a kid," said James as he attached the fake nose to Y/N's face. He placed a bushy moustache under it and handed her the coloured contacts to put in.

Y/N's clothing was heavily padded, hiding her shape. She had her hair hidden up in a cap and an obviously fake press pass. She just had to help nobody looked too closely.

James did his own disguise. He changed everything but the camera, but they just had to hope nobody noticed that, either. Once they were ready and had given an update to the viewers, Y/N and James made their way down to the paddock.

"A lot of people have been asking us to include Alonso and Stroll in these videos. Truth is, I only do these videos with the guys I'm close with. Fernando is such a legend that I get nervous around him, and I just haven't spent that time with Lance," she explained to the camera as they walked.

"And now, for our first victim," said James.

The drivers that walked past were the ones Y/N didn't have anything planned for. Sargeant, Stroll, Checo Perez. Y/N and James waited and waited until somebody came by.

Oscar Piastri. The poor, young Australian was Y/N's first victim. "Oscar! Welcome to your first home race in Formula One!" Y/N shouted, calling him over for an interview. The second question was normal, something Oscar was happy to answer. But then Y/N got a little strange. "As all F1 fans know, the man who had your seat before you loved to do a shoey. Have you managed to try one yet?" The question itself wasn't strange, but it was about to be.

Y/N slowly eased off her shoe as Oscar answered the question. When he answered no, not yet in Formula One, Y/N passed him her microphone. "Hold this for me," she said and picked her shoe up from the floor. She grabbed a can of beer from her coat pocket and poured the contents of it into her shoe. "Here, try mine."

Oscar's eyes went wide. "Uh, no thanks," he said and passed the microphone back to James. Without finishing the interview, Oscar walked away. Y/N couldn't blame him, she would have done the same.

"Warm up complete. Time for the real thing," said Y/N brushing down the hairs of her fake moustache.

The next driver to walk past was poor George Russell.

Y/N went on and on, asking the drivers the weirdest questions she could think of. Most finished the interview, or walked away before it had finished. Halfway through, Y/N had her interview with the honey badger himself, Daniel Riccardo. It wasn't a real interview, but they made it look as such. The end of the interview was made to look like a success.

After that, Y/N interviewed Ocon, Tsunoda, and Leclerc. Charles went on the longest out of any of the drivers. Y/N asked him questions about Ferrari and how sad he is after almost every race. He looked at her with confusion when she spoke, and Y/N thought she had been found out.

Y/N moved on. It was Verstappen next. Y/N asked weird questions and got the perfect response. He definitely knew, she thought as he laughed. Towards the end of the interview, Y/N felt the hat come off her head, revealing her hair. She gasped and turned around to see Charles stood there, her hat in hand. "I knew it!" He cried, using her hat to smack her shoulder. "I knew it was you!"

"And there you have it, folks," Y/N began, placing her hat back on her head. This time it didn't hide her hair. "This years winner of Paddock Pals is Charles Leclerc! What do you win, Mr Leclerc? Bragging rights, of course," she said and passed her microphone to the Monégasque.

Charles did an acceptance speech. Like everything he and Y/N did together, it was all for a laugh.

"That concludes this years episode of Paddock Pals. Thank you everybody for watching. Don't forget to like, subscribe, and join us next week and in Azerbaijan for the next race."

James cut off the camera. "And we're out," he said and pulled off his fake nose.

Y/N did the same, pulling off the fake nose and the moustache from her face. "Did you have any idea?" Asked Y/N, turning to Max. The heat in Australia was sweltering. Y/N worked on taking off her multitude of padded jumpers, leaving her in a loose, classy shirt and a pair of shorts.

Not answering, Max looked away and let out a laugh. Of course, he knew, thought Y/N. Shaking her head, she turned away from him. "Good luck, Super Max," she said and took her leave, walking away from the Paddock.

It wasn't race day, but her viewers didn't have to know that. It was qualifying and Y/N wouldn't miss it for the world. James left the paddock, going back to the room to begin editing the video. Y/N made her way to the grandstands to watch. She loved nothing more than sitting with the McLaren fans to watch the qualifying and the race. In most laces Lando's fans were her fans, but they were also respectful, asking for selfies before the qualifying began so she could watch in peace.

***

Race day meant race day vlogs for Y/N. Everything from getting ready to after the race, the people wanted to see it all. Y/N tried to dress her best for every race, this time a McLaren shirt with a white tennis skirt.

Cameraman James didn't accompany her for race day vlogs. Sometimes he was in them, watching the race alongside her, but that was a rarity. Y/N had a separate camera for her vlogs. The video quality was worse than when James had his big camera, but the quality wasn't what people were there for.

After having breakfast and getting her final bits ready, Y/N headed down to the paddock. It had become a tradition that she heads down there to wish Lando good luck. She filmed herself going down to the paddock and wishing Lando luck, but turned off the camera after that.

"You look tired," said Lando as Y/N put the camera down.

Y/N shrugged her shoulders. "I thought my makeup covered it up," she answered, leaning against the wall.

Rolling his eyes, Lando put his arms around her shoulders and pulled her away from the wall. "You could have texted me if you couldn't sleep."

"And make you tired before the race? No way, Norris."

Lando laughed. "You better get going to the grandstands," he said, walking her to the edge of the garage.

Nodding, Y/N followed him. "Good luck out there, Lando Norris," she said and kissed his cheek.

Y/N filmed herself making her way to the grandstands. She turned off her camera for more selfies with the fans and waited for the race to begin.

The race started smoothly. Of course, Verstappen was on pole, but that's why they called him Super Max. He had Sainz, Hamilton and Leclerc behind him. Lando was stuck in the midfield, but Y/N still cheered him on.

Lap twenty and Lando was taken out of the race. "Shit!" Y/N cried, standing up. She watched as he was stuck in the barrier and thanked God he was near the pits. He drove the car into the garage and Lando climbed out.

Biting her nails, Y/N pulled out her phone and texted Lando.

Letting out a breath, Y/N pulled out her camera. "Update on the race, Lando has just retired after a crash. He's okay. He's in the garage right now and the race is still ongoing. Our favourite driver might be out of the race, but our second favorite is still going," she said and put the camera down.

Y/N sat back in her seat. She turned her attention back to the race, keeping her phone on and in her lap in case Lando needed her.

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hughmanbean · 4 months

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Titles I've Acquired

So I've decided to just jot down all of the titles I made some time ago in older posts and some more recent ones @jedipirateking helped with.

Danny:

First of Holy Name, The Reluctant King, The High Queen, Queen of the Cosmos

Bringer of Balance, Embodiment of Space, Mother of Wrath and Trickery, Siren of the Stars, The Great One, The Inevitable Authority

Danno, Little Badger

Ones we made on a recent post, focused on a joke. Not meant to signify Danny's Rank:

Avatar of Outta Here, Knight of Nope, Sir Scurry Scatter and Scram, God of Getaways, Emperor of the Bounce, Queen of Quick Exits, Prince of Poof, Zealot of Zoom, Duke of Dodge, Duck, Dip, Dive, and Dodge, The Great Gun It, Valet to Vamoose and Vacate, Baron von Bail, Scenechal of Scatter, Coup to Clamor and Climb.

Dante:

First of His Name, The Wrathful Prince, The Erratic Prince, Hate-Filled Union Born Anew, The Watchful and Filial Son

Dani/Ellie:

First of Her Name, The Mischievous Princess, The Wandering Princess, Mirror Turned Painting, A Futile Chase of Desire Remade, The Protective and Loyal Daughter

Vlad:

The Avaricious Duke, The High Queen's Rival, The Greedy Interloper, Creator of Shattered Mirrors, He Who Desires That Which Is Unattainable

Fruitloop.

Lady Gotham:

Home of Many, Perseverance in Protection, The Lady Who Commands the Knight, Bird Keeper

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #I mean not really but these are most relevant for it considering my writing so #ehhhhhhhhh #tell me if I should change em #danny fenton #danielle phantom #dan phantom #vlad plasmius #high queen danny phantom #lady gotham

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 3 months

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The Kilt Stays on | John “Soap” MacTavish x AFAB/Female!Reader

Summary: You and Johnny attend a wedding together. You fuck. That’s it. Fluffy Smut. W/C: 3,657 [AO3] Warnings: semi-public sex, car sex, fingering, praise, the kilt stays on, unprotected PiV (no mention of BC, wrap it up in real life folks), established relationship, idiots in love, confessions, voyeurism, voyeuristic badgers. Thank you @noxturnalpascal and @angelofsmalldeath-codeine for doing beta and proofing work for me <3 ILU.

CoD Masterlist

18+ content below the cut, NSFW, minors DNI.

“Johnny!” You call from the hotel bedroom as you smooth down your dress, letting out a heavy sigh as you look yourself over in the mirror for what must have been the hundredth time this morning.

“What’s up, hen?” Soap asks as he pushes the door open with a broad palm. You look over your shoulder and your heart skips a beat as you see him in his finery.

He’s wearing a kilt in his family tartan, poppy-red with differing shades of blue interlocking in the traditional weave. His matching Fly Plaid affixed on his left shoulder, accenting his black kilt jacket and waistcoat as it flows over his shoulder and down his back.

A black bowtie dangles loosely from his neck where he’s clearly tried and failed multiple times to tie it himself. Your eyes wander down to the sporran and you can’t help but wonder if Johnny had followed tradition to the letter and forgone underwear.

“I need help with my zip,” you say as you catch his bright eyes looking you up and down in a perfect mirror to your wandering gaze.

“Funny,” he says with a chuckle as he closes the distance and lets his hands trail up your sides, “I need a hand with my tie, how ‘bout we do a trade?”

His fingers skirt up to your ribs and you sigh, leaning back against his hard form as he reaches around to cup your breasts gently. His mouth finds the side of your neck as his stubble scrapes delightfully against your skin.

“Johnny,” you moan as he hums contentedly, sucking softly as he noses against your neck, “Come on, stop fooling around, we’ve got a wedding to get to.”

“Mmm,” he hums as he teases his tongue against you, trailing his hot mouth up until his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your earlobe, “Not like it’s our wedding, ‘can afford to be late.”

“MacTavish,” you whine as he slides his right palm down over your sternum, sweeping over the curve of your stomach, “I mean it.”

“I know, hen,” he growls against the shell of your ear as he slowly retreats his thick fingers from your body, “You just look so bloody good.”

The metallic slide of your zip being pulled taut brings you back to your senses as you look at Johnny in the mirror. The pair of you are a picture, a glimmer in each of your eyes, you smile at him before turning to help him with his tie.

“You look rather handsome yourself,” you admit, looking him up and down as you finish up his tie, “Even if you shouldn’t be wearing a dirk in public, Johnny.”

“It’s ceremonial,” he protests as you lean down to snatch it from his sock.

“Yeah?” You challenge as you inspect the blade with your thumb, the scrape of the sharp blade against the grain of your fingerprint proves your point, “It’s an offensive weapon, John.”

“Aye,, do you have to say John like that?” He pouts and you hand him the blade, handle towards him, “Besides, I am an offensive weapon, blade or nae.”

“I know you are,” you roll your eyes playfully as he reseats the knife into its sheath, “Save it for the reception, yeah?”

“Anything you say, love.”

~*~

You’re swaying on the dance floor, shoes long discarded, as tiny feet rest atop your own. The flower girl, Anna, is one of the few kids still awake, her bouncy curls swaying with every movement as you move her around.

“You have a good day?” You ask as you smile down at the young lady, she’s one of Gaz’ nieces and she took a shine to you from the moment the wedding reception kicked off.

“The best,” she says with a big yawn, the events of the day finally catching up with her it seems, “I ate so much food.”

“Me too sweetie, me too,” you say as you cast your gaze around the pavilion. It must be late, most guests have left, and Gaz and his bride absconded at least an hour ago.

“Think it’s time for you to head to bed,” you hear Anna’s dad say from behind you and you slowly spin around, Anna’s little feet still glued to yours.

“But, dad!” Anna groans in protest but when she looks up at you, she’s met with a raised brow.

“I think your dad knows best, kid,” you say with a soft smile, “But thank you for the dance.”

“Thanks for looking after her,” her father says with tired eyes.

“No bother,” you wave him off as you hear a loud roar of laughter from a table behind you, “I’ve got a Scotsman to send to bed, so wish me luck.”

Anna’s dad gives you a sympathetic look before scooping her up into his arms and carrying her off to bed. You slip your shoes back on before scanning the nearly empty pavilion for Johnny.

You turn to see a throng of familiar faces sat at a table near the far edge of the marquee. Price and Simon are shaking their heads as Johnny splays out in a chair, kilt draped across his lap as he looks over at you. The moment he sees you, he downs the last of the amber liquid in his glass before mumbling something to the other men. You watch a blush spread up the back of his neck as Simon says something you don’t quite catch. You almost don’t want to know.

“Hey,” Johnny says with a slight slur to his voice as he wraps his arms around your waist, tugging you firm against him as he presses his lips to yours.

You gasp as his tongue darts across your bottom lip, your arms loop around his neck as you lick into his mouth. He groans at your dominance as you taste whiskey and cigars. You press your front against his, smiling at the jingle of his sporran as he pulls back to look down at you with lust-blown eyes.

“Take me to bed, lass?” He whispers as he rubs his nose against yours.

A sharp wolf whistle form Price jolts you out of the moment and you flip him off over Johnny’s shoulder, just as you hear Simon yell “Get a room!”

“Should do as we’re told,” Johnny chuckles as he presses a kiss to the corner of your mouth, “I’m not one for disobeying orders.”

“You’re a terrible liar, Johnny,” you say with a sigh as you step out of his embrace, holding your hand out to him with a sly smile on your face, “But yes, for once, do as you’re telt.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“God, I hate it when you call me that,” you say as you pull your phone out of your purse, booking a taxi as you lead Johnny through the venue’s gardens.

“Force of habit, lass,” Johnny chuckles as he wraps his arm around your shoulder, “Strong women are my weakness.”

The crunch of loose stones beneath your feet and the soft calls of owls fills the silence as you lean against him. As ever, he’s positively radiating heat, keeping you warm from the chill of the night air. He smells of the aftershave you bought him for his birthday, mixed with the tang of cigars and whisky and his own natural musk. You breathe him in as you feel your chest flutter, you’re in love with John MacTavish, you’ve known it for a while now. But never have you felt it more in this moment, alone under the stars, walking along a moonlit garden path.

“Hey, Johnny?” You say, voice barely above a whisper as your phone vibrates, alerting you that the taxi is waiting for you at the end of the path ahead.

“Aye?” He turns his head to look at you, cerulean eyes swimming with affection as his lips turn up into an instinctive smile.

You want to tell him now, profess your love to him under the starry sky.

“Thank you for asking me to come to the wedding,” you chicken out last minute, and he gives you a look, as if he knows that’s not what you were going to say.

“I mean,” Johnny says ponderously as he scratches his stubble with his free hand, “Ghost already had an invitation, so I couldn’t exactly ask him…” He trails off, face neutral, as you narrow your eyes at him.

But any anger quickly melts away as you see the smirk threatening to break out on his face the longer you scowl.

“You’re a right pain in the arse sometimes, John,” You huff as you give him a taste of his own medicine, shrugging off his shoulder as you stride ahead, waving at the taxi driver as you make a beeline for the car.

“Aw, hen,” he calls after you as he quickly matches your pace, grabbing you by the wrist and spinning you to face him, “Dinnae fash, I was kidding.”

You fall into his arms, pliable and willing as you grin up at him. The worried knot in his brow eases as he realises your ruse.

“You’re a devil,” he growls as he cups your cheek with his right hand, framing the side of your face as he dips his head down, “You know you mean the world to me,” your name slips from his lips, and you nod slowly.

“I know Johnny,” you whisper, “I know.”

Your lips fuse together and your arms loop around the back of his neck as you let him claim your mouth with his tongue. His free hand presses flat against the base of your spine as he holds you to him.

It’s heavy, charged with emotion as you feel the scrape of his coarse facial hair on your skin. Your tongues slide over one another as you groan into Johnny’s mouth. The beep of the taxi’s horn cuts the moment short.

You part, lips swollen and glistening as you pant into each other’s mouths.

“C’mon, Johnny, I need you,” you whisper against his lips as you glance towards the car, “And I’m not letting you fuck me in a bush again.”

“C’mon, it wasn’t so bad,” Johnny chuckles, but relinquishes his grip on you, instead keeping his hand at the small of your back as he guides you to the cab, “Besides, I thought being peeped on by a badger was kind of hot.”

“You’re gone in the head, Johnny,” you laugh as you let him open the door for you, “I’ve never been able to look at badgers the same again.”

Johnny simply shakes his head as he chuckles, shutting the door behind you before walking around to the driver’s side window. You arch an eyebrow as he whispers something to the guy in the front seat before handing him a handful of notes.

“Johnny MacTavish,” you say with accusation in your tone as he slips into the seat next to you, “What on earth-?”

You yelp as he pulls you onto his lap in one swift motion, you feel heat prickle over your cheeks as you feel his bare thighs on your own.

“Shh,” he coos as you feel his hands push up the fabric of your dress, bunching it up around your hips, exposing your lace panties to him, “Driver’s happy for us to fool around, just no getting come on the seats.”

“Johnny!” You slap his chest in admonishment as you look down to see his kilt bunched up around his thighs, his cock erect and leaking as he grins up at you, “This is so wrong.”

“Tellin’ me this doesn’t get you even a little wet, hen?” He hums as he trails his broad hands back down to your knees. His thumbs swirling patterns up your inner thighs as you feel the car lurch forward. You tremble above him as you feel arousal licking through your veins like fire.

“You know it does,” you whisper, not wanting to make too much noise with the driver directly behind you, “Christ, Johnny.”

You whine as his hands find their way back up to the apex of your thighs. His coarse thumbs brushing against either side of the drenched fabric of your panties as your eyes roll into the back of your head. You brace your hands on his shoulders as you lean forward, foreheads pressed together as you slowly relax.

“There you go,” Johnny whispers as he brings one hand up to take your chin between his thumb and forefinger, “Such a good lass,” he says, his voice thick with desire as he slips his free hand under the flimsy lace.

You gasp as he slips two fingers through your slick folds, bumping over your clit rhythmically as you bite your lip.

“Kiss me,” he commands in a hoarse whisper, and you moan into his mouth as he slides his fingers from your chin, wrapping his hand around to the back of your neck. He pulls you down to crash his lips into yours as his middle and ring finger ease the gusset of your panties aside.

“Johnny,” you pant into his mouth as his thick digits ease into your tight cunt, “Fuck.”

“Shh,” he hushes as he pulls your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling just hard enough to make you whine, “Y’take me so well, gorgeous,” he growls before pressing his thumb down hard on your clit.

You feel like your body is on the brink of shattering as you vaguely register the dark, peaceful countryside outside the windows blurring into the bright lights of the city.

You’re almost at the hotel.

You grasp for Johnny’s cock, your fingers ghost along his precome smeared tip for a second before he snatches your wrist, letting go of your neck as he tuts at you.

“Not yet,” he admonishes you as he moves your sticky fingers to rest on his Fly Plaid, “Can’t risk coming until we’re out of the cab.”

“Fucking need you, Johnny,” you whine as you feel the way your walls clench around his thick fingers, you’re so close.

“Come like this for me,” he says with a hum as he swipes his thumb back and forth over your swollen bud, “Hurry babe, we’re almost there.”

You kiss Johnny, a flurry of tongues and teeth as you add to the friction by fucking yourself on the digits impaled in you. Your teeth knock against his as you come hard, a desperate whine escaping the back of your throat as he continues to pump his fingers up into you.

“Good girl,” he coos in your ear as you drop your head to his shoulder, “Good fucking girl.”

“We’re here,” the gruff voice of the cab driver makes you yelp, like ice water sliding down your spine as you remember where you are.

“Thanks, Drive,” Johnny says cheerily, as if his fingers aren’t currently sliding out of your cunt. He pulls your panties back into place with a wolfish grin on his face as you feel the tips of your ears burning with embarrassment and arousal.

“Y-yeah,” you breathe shakily as you slide off Johnny’s lap, “Have a good night.”

The driver scoffs noncommittally as you clamber out of the cab, your panties clinging to your drenched folds as you stumble onto the pavement.

“You’re an absolute menace, MacTavish,” you hiss as you watch him awkwardly adjust himself under his kilt. The tenting material beyond conspicuous without underwear to keep his cock contained.

“Yeah, and you fuckin’ love it,” he purrs as he slaps your ass, “Come on, let’s get moving, I might get arrested for public indecency like this.”

“Fucking hell,” you laugh as you push him inside, the two of you giggling as the clerk at the front desk raises an eyebrow at you both. She quickly notices the tenting in Johnny’s kilt and smirks before winking at you. You grin back sheepishly before pressing the call button for the elevator.

Johnny pushes you through the doors as soon as they open, pinning you against the back wall as his lips find your neck.

“Looked fuckin’ stunning tonight,” he rasps against your skin in between wet drags of his tongue and hard sucks against your pulse point that threaten to leave marks, “Was at half-mast most of the damn day, d’ya know how hard that is to hide in a kilt?”

His tone is feverish as he nips at your earlobe, groaning as you trail a hand up his thigh, feeling under his kilt.

“Isn’t that what a Sporran’s for?” you ask with a groan as you finally wrap your hand around his length. Soft, velvet foreskin gliding under your touch as you pump him slowly. You don’t care that you’re still a few floors from your room, there’s even a little thrill at the thought someone might walk in.

“Sassy fucken’ mouth,” he growls as he nips at your jaw, his stubble catching on your skin as you press your cheek against his.

“You love it,Johnny,” you whine as you feel the elevator shudder to a halt, two floors before yours.

The doors glide open, and you look on in horror to see a group of men in their twenties appear before you.

“Take the next one!” Soap barks as he looks over his shoulder, you catch the fire in his eyes, and you can’t help but shiver at the way his body presses harder against you. It’s possessive, protective, as he bucks his hips into your hand. The doors close again as you hear the hollers of encouragement from the young men as the elevator continues its ascent.

You arrive at your floor, stumbling out together with breathy giggles and barely concealed groans. You fall over the threshold of your room, mouths fused together as Johnny kicks the door closed behind you.

You fall back onto the freshly made bed and pull Johnny down on top of you, parting your legs wide, granting him access as he practically crushes you into the mattress. He starts to pull off his jacket and Fly Plaid, but you stop him. Your hands circling his wrists as he looks down at you with exasperation.

“Fuck me like this,” you breathe as you lower his hands down to your hips, “Keep the kilt on.”

“Don’t have to tell me twice, love,” he groans as he yanks your panties down and off, flinging them somewhere in the room before lining himself at your core.

“Fuck me, please, Johnny,” you plead as he runs his tip through your drenched folds.

“So fucken’ wet,” he groans as he bumps your clit with his tip before guiding it back to your entrance, “Didn’t know you were such an exhibitionist, hen.”

“Jonny, please,” you mewl as you buck your hips up, pushing his tip inside you.

“So needy,” he rasps as he buries himself inside you in one desperate thrust.

You cry out at the stretch; you’re impaled on his thick length and your vision blurs at the edges as he splits you open.

“Touch yourself, hen, I’m not gonna last long,” Johnny growls as he falls forward, elbows either side of your head as he captures your lips in his.

You moan into his mouth as he slides his tongue past your lips, licking into your mouth as he drags his thick cock almost all the way out before snapping his hips back down into you. You slip your dominant hand down to your clit and rub at the swollen bundle of nerves in earnest as he pounds into you at a desperate pace.

“Looked so fucken’ sexy today,” Johnny rambles in your ear as he pulls back, gasping for air as he locks eyes with you, “Couldn’t stop imagining you impaled on this cock.”

The wet sound of skin slapping against skin fills your ears as you feel the burning heat rip down your spine as your orgasm builds. Johnny’s breath is hot on your face as his pace begins to falter, he’s close. You redouble the pressure on your clit as you chase your own release.

“Where’d you want me?” He pants as he ruts into you with erratic, devastating force.

“Inside Johnny, fill me up,” you beg and that does it.

You feel the tight twist in your navel as you come hard, your cunt squeezing hard around Johnny’s cock as he buries himself deep inside you as he comes. You scream as you feel euphoria wash over you, the hot pulse of Johnny’s come coating your walls has you floating as your back arches off the bed.

You wrap your ankles around his waist as you pull him in closer, making him groan in your ear as he collapses on top of you.

“Fuck,” you breathe as Johnny’s weight presses down onto you, almost suffocatingly heavy as you press soft kisses to his temple.

“Yeah, fuck,” he responds breathily as he nuzzles into your neck.

Eventually you peel yourselves apart, making sure to pee and wash up before diving under the covers and nestling against Johnny’s chest as his strong arms wrap around you.

“I love you,” he breathes against the crown of your head as he places tender kisses in the wake of his words.

“I love you too, Johnny,” you sigh as you loop your leg over his hips, nipping gently at his chest as you nuzzle your nose into the tight curls of his chest hair, “Was going to say it earlier.”

“I know, didn’t want to push,” he sighs as he trails his fingertips down your arm, sending goosebumps rippling across your skin, “Just needed you to know I feel the same.”

“You’re a sweet man, Johnny,” you smile as you take his nipple between your lips and hum.

“Only for you, lass,” he chuckles as he peppers more kisses about your head as you snuggle in even closer.

Tags: @amyg1509

CoD Masterlist

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lxndonorris · 5 months

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badger workout - Daniel Ricciardo

Y/N x Daniel Ricciardo Theme: Smutish, Teasing, Touching you're aiding Daniel with his daily work out x word count: 1540+ taglist: @game-set-canet gif by me. open for requests :)

The morning sunlight streams through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room where you spent the night with your boyfriend, Daniel.

However, you find an empty space right next to you, where Daniel slept just moments ago. Then, your ears make out a distant yet familiar sound.

The faint sound of clinking weights and low groans echos through the hallway, drawing your curiosity. With a yawn and a stretch, you follow the rhythmic noise to discover Daniel's own little sanctuary—a home gym tucked away in a spare room.

As you approach, the intensity of the workout becomes more apparent. The scent of sweat lingers in the air, a testament to his dedication.

"Fuck." You hear him groaning loudly when you catch a glimpse of him bench pressing heavy weights through the slightly ajar door. His muscles flex with each controlled moment, showing off his athletic build, and his gym attire—a snug white shirt and short shorts—accentuates his sculpted physique, leaving you momentarily captivated.

You lean against the doorframe, silently admiring the focus etched on his face. The beads of perspiration glisten on his forehead, evidence of the effrt he pours into each repition. The play of muscles beneath his skin showcases the result of his consistent workout, and you can't help but marvel at the strength and determination he exhibits.

You enjoy how his body moves with every deep breath he takes, with every moan leaving his mouth, and the way his shorts just barely cover the tattoo on his thighs.

Lost in your thoughts, you continue to watch as he pushes himself further. The room resonates with the soft clinks of the weights meeting their metal counterparts. It was a mesmerizing symphony of dedication and resilience, a private performance speaking volumes.

Suddenly, he pauses mid-lift, and his eyes meet yours in the mirror. A mischievous smile formed on his lips as he set the weights back in their resting place. The playful glint in his eyes hints at the acknowledgement of your presence. Sweat drips down his face, yet his expression exudes a sense of satisfaction.

"Caught me in the act, huh?" he quips, his voice a blend of exhaustion and amusement. You can't help but smile in response, enjoying the view of him working out.

"It seems like it." You step into the room as he grabs the weights again, going for even more repetitions. "Need my help?"

Daniel stops again, looking at you, his expression a mixture of curiosity and excitement. "What do you have in mind?" The words fade into a low moan when you stand right next to him.

Locked in a gaze, the room seems to pulse with an electrifying tension. His eyes, deep and intense, meet yours with an unspoken anticipation.

A playful smirk tugs at the corner of your lips as you climb on top of him, sitting down on his lap. Right away, he lets out a low groan, stops mid-lift, and leans his head back. His desire is building up inside his shorts, partly due to the workout and partly because of your presence.

"How about that?" You lean back slightly and run a hand down his thighs, tracing the outlines of his tattoo with your fingertips.

"That feels good." Daniel takes a deep breath and manages to set the weights back into their resting place before he lets out a long, low sigh.

Bending down, you run both of your hands across his chest, feeling his muscles tense even harder through his tight, wet shirt, making your way across his upper body until you reach his neck.

Meanwhile, he runs his hands through his curly, messy hair, steadying himself against the back of his head. "That's what I need." Daniel purrs happily, looking for eye contact again.

Your eyes meet, and the two of you are enjoying yourselves, with his eyes sparkling brightly through the dim light of the gym.

"I hoped so." Licking your lips, your face is now hovering just inches away from his, causing his eyes to wander all over you, from your eyes to your nose, your lips, and back to your eyes.

The room fades into the background, and all that remains are the magnetic currents pulling you closer. His hand gently cups your cheek, fingers tracing a delicate path. The warmth of his touch sends shivers down your spine, a tangible confirmation of your connection to him.

As your lips meet, the tension disperses into a surge of passion. His hands wander down to your back, stroking the small of your back while you grind your body against his—a sensational feeling.

With every little move, you encourage him to respond, either by him letting out a low, guttural moan or by his body growing stiffer and firmer, yet even then, it is good to be so close to him.

"Y/N." He growls deeply into your mouth, causing you to tilt your head to catch your breath just slightly. But Daniel just keeps going, placing kisses all over your neck, leaving your skin burning everywhere his warm, soft lips touch it.

Smirking, you run your hand across his chest again and again, stroking his pecs, his nipples, and his abs—just the way you did the night before.

"You're enjoying that, don't you?" You smirk, teasingly running a hand even further down his body, tracing the tangible outlines of his growing length bulging inside his tight clothes.

"Oh yeah." Daniel tries to hold back a long, loud moan, but he fails. "So good." Rubbing his face against your neck, he tries to regain his composure, but he is just going deeper into this state of blissful desire.

Your breath quickens when his hand reaches your arse, touching you firmly. He then rocks his hips against yours, sending rhythmic waves through every fiber of your body.

"That's one thing to wake up to." You bite your lower lip as your bodies move as one.

"I could do that every day." Daniel smiles, tilting his head toward yours to kiss you passionately. You embrace him fully, both of you exploring each other's bodies with your hands.

"We should get off the bench." He giggles, and that's when you remember where you actually are.

Carefully, you help one another get up, holding each other's hands.

"I think I need a shower." He smirks, sweat dripping down his entire body now.

His gym clothes cling to his sculpted form, accentuating the contours of his body. The now-tight shirt outlines the defined muscles of his chest and arms, while the shorts show off his huge thighs and his burning desire.

As he moves closer, each flex and contraction of his physique draws your attention. Gently, he lifts your chin with two fingers, and your eyes meet again. "Do you care to join me?"

His voice sounds so deep and alluring, giving you goosebumps.

"I would love that." You nod, and he intertwines his fingers with yours, leaving you through his house and into the bathroom.

Together, you undress each other, with Daniel taking the lead.

Lovingly, he removes one piece of clothing at a time. You're embracing his hands all over your body, down your back, along your arms, your thighs, and your breasts.

Once you're naked, he approaches you again, pulling you into a tight hug and kissing you longingly.

"Mhmm." You moan, but then you separate from him by pressing a finger on his lips. "Not so fast." Daniel smiles softly, kissing your finger instead. "First, we need this gone." You run a finger down his chest, through the visible outlines of his pecs.

Returning the favor, you caress his form, his broad shoulders, his firm chest, his back, and his thighs lovingly while you undress him. You love to trace the outlines of his beautiful tattoos, and he watches your fingers, entranced by your precise movement.

Subconsciously, he keeps fondling himself, feeling his body react to the slightest touch of your fingers. You can't help but notice it, making you smirk again.

"Feels good, huh?" You place your hand on his chest, moving rhythmically with every deep breath he takes.

"So good." He closes his eyes and lets out a low moan before regaining his composure and turning his head to meet your gaze.

With all of your clothes on the floor, you step into the shower. Daniel is standing right behind you, kissing your neck, his beard tickling you, while you turn the shower on.

Refreshing cold water pours all over you, sending shivers down your spine—the sensation of water on your skin—just what the two of you needed.

Daniel hugs you tightly from behind, kissing your neck and stroking your thighs. Giving in to his touch, you lean backwards against his firm chest, with him catching you easily.

His hands run down your back and your arms, seemingly tracing the countless drops of water leading the way.

"That feels good." You purr before turning around slowly, steadying yourself against his chest, and stroking him firmly.

Daniel smirks, "I think I need your help tomorrow, too," running his hands down your chest, along your waistline, and back to your arse, holding you in place.

"I insist." A playful smile spreads over your face as you lean in for another kiss.

#daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo smut #daniel ricciardo fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 x you #formula 1 x reader #formula 1 imagine #F1 smut #Formula 1 smut

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sniffanimal · 4 months

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I have a cute little crab sticker on my phone case and whenever I get asked about it I get the proudly tell them it's to commemorate Henry Kissinger dying. I would love nothing more than to add more crabs to this case

#sorry i picked the worlds dirtiest mirror to photograph in #badger rants

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livwritesstuff · 6 days

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boston pride is today so here have an edited repost from when i walked in the parade last year

Steve is getting boring in his old age (forty-four, almost).

It was inevitable, he supposes when he looks back, and he likes being boring.

He likes the steady routine of the life he and Eddie (married for seven years, now) have built with their three daughters (four, seven, and nearly ten, a notion Steve is choosing to ignore because there’s no goddamn way Moe nearly has an entire decade under her belt already), and he doesn’t find himself making attempts to mix things up all that often.

Naturally, Eddie is the one to suggest they make the trip into Boston with their daughters for the annual Pride parade, and when he does, Steve isn’t automatically inclined to agree.

Look – Steve knows it’s important for kids to see the world and do new things and all that enriching shit, but maybe he still bears some of the scars from keeping a semi-feral pack of teenagers alive amidst the eldritch hellscape of their hometown, and it’s not like they don’t keep themselves entertained at home – Hazel had finally got the gist of Go-Fish not too long ago and that’s been a whole new ballgame Steve is perfectly content to continue exploring.

In the end, however, the logical side of him (and Eddie’s ever-persistent badgering) wins out, and come mid-June of 2011, they all make the drive into Boston to see the parade.

It doesn’t take Steve long at all to acknowledge that it was a good idea. He hadn’t been to Pride in many years (again – he’s boring in his old age), and he’d forgotten how much fun it is – a true celebration of love and happiness in the face of a lot of fucked up shit and all that. The parade’s pretty good too (definitely a few floats he hopes the girls are too distracted chasing after candy to notice and ask questions about later, but only time will tell), and so is the festival afterwards. It ends up being a really great time for all of them.

Of the whole day, though, Steve’s favorite part is the trip home, a drive that should have only been thirty minutes, but turns into nearly two hours with all the traffic on I-90.

The girls are still riding the sugar rush of an afternoon’s worth of lemonade and fried dough and candy thrown from parade floats (Hazel might be succumbing though, if Steve’s quick glances in the rear-view mirror at the way her eyes are drooping closed are anything to go off of), and it seems as if the day’s contagious joy had followed them into the car. Robbie and Moe have been asking a lot of questions – mostly chatter about what floats were everyone’s favorites and who got the best face paint until Moe, perceptive as she’s always been, hits them with, “What’s Pride for?”

Which turns into, “Why do people think it’s a bad thing?” and that becomes, “So how did you and Papa fall in love?” at which point Eddie, who’d been fielding their daughters' questions so Steve could keep his focus on the stop-and-go highway traffic, launches into a dramatic and involved retelling of how their relationship had begun nearly eighteen years ago.

“So I told him that I liked him and what do you think Papa said?” Eddie eventually asks as he approaches the end of the story.

“What?” the girls ask with eager smiles and wide eyes.

“Nothing,” Eddie says ruthlessly, a wicked grin on his face.

“Alright,” Steve cuts in over the laughter coming from the backseat, “Let’s not be dramatic. I said something...eventually, and it wasn’t even that long later – four hours tops.”

“That’s right,” Eddie concedes, “And then we all lived happily ever after and all that jazz.”

“Good,” Robbie says, “’Cos if you hadn’t, today wouldn’t happen.”

“Hate to break it to you, sweet pea,” Steve replies, “but I’m pretty sure Pride would still happen even if Dad and I weren’t there for it.”

“We wouldn’t be here," Moe corrects him, "All together.”

Steve blinks.

Jesus Christ, these kids are gonna be the death of him. Can’t drive the damn car if his eyes are misting over, can he?

“Yeah,” Eddie says as he reaches over to curve his hand around the back of Steve’s neck, “Yeah, bug, that’s true.”

And thanks goodness for that.

#it's a very sweet moment and then robbie hits them with “so am i gay because you're gay?”#and eddie has to be like “uhhhh no it's not like genetic or whatever”#eddie: also......you're adopted so that's not relevant either #and then they have to explain to hazel what being adopted means (again) and she cries about it (again)#liv's steddie dads verse #steddie #steddie dads #steve harrington #eddie munson

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kheahyena · 2 years

Photo

My favorite is those two at the bottom.

#artists on tumblr #furry #furry art #furry artist #art #digital art #doodles #kheahyena #hybrid #striped hyena #honey badger #genet #smoking #mirror

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storiesofsvu · 2 months

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Decadent Desires Ch 2

Future Emily Prentiss x reader Warnings: language, alcohol consumption, sexual situations alluded to. Okay y'all were super interactive on the first chapter so I figured I'd give you an early chapter as a treat. Lol.

A full week had passed, another one full of overbearing work, handling the slight squabbling from the team while also dealing with constant badgering from the higher ups and Emily was over it. She scooped the final bite of linguine out of the pan, chewing it down while she moved the dish into the dishwasher thankful at least that she didn’t have to hand wash things tonight. It had been an annoying week and the bottle of wine on the counter had been calling her name since about two in the afternoon, the thought of an orgasm to relieve some stress on her mind from the moment she got home. However it wasn’t close enough to shower or bed time yet so the wine would have to do for now.

Emily refilled her glass, picked up her phone and opened the door to the patio, figuring at the very least she could enjoy the warm evening and actually get some fresh air after being cooped up in the office all week. Settling into one of the chairs she swiped open her phone and immediately had to resist the temptation to check her email, reminding herself she wouldn’t be so frustrated if she left work at work unless it was completely urgent. So she scrolled through a couple of social media apps, wasting time looking at pictures posted by friends, which in turn made her feel even more like she was missing out on something. She closed Instagram and her thumb hovered over the screen while she tried to figure out what to doom-scroll on next, finding herself staring at the little red apps Heather had installed. She took a breath, a large sip of wine and bit the bullet, opening the first one and she was pleasantly surprised she could scroll through a handful of profiles without setting one up for herself first.

‘Caitlin. 21.’

“Okay well you’re barely legal.” Emily muttered to herself, scrolling down further.

‘Steven. 32.’

A better age, but still a step in the wrong direction.

‘Kyla. 38.’

Better. But she could only see the main picture, age and location. Pulling her lip into her mouth she flicked around through a couple of pages until she found the how to tips and realized she would have to make a profile after all, even if it was just to see more information. She let out a huff, closing the app, hesitating only a minute before she opened up her text conversation with Heather.

‘Are you SURE this is a good idea?’

Her phone buzzed only a few seconds later.

‘The apps are fine. I’m assuming you haven’t even made a profile yet and it’s just pushing out what it thinks people want to see. You can curate your own experience once you put in your preferences.’

‘And if it still sucks?’

‘Oh come on, what’s the harm in one date? At the very least it’ll keep you entertained.’

‘Who said I’m not entertained?’

‘It’s Friday night and you’re texting me instead of being out somewhere.’

‘And you’re answering.’

‘I’m waiting for Rob to pull the car around; you just caught me at a convenient time.’ ‘Make a profile. There’s no harm in seeing what’s out there. You can blame me if it’s terrible.’

‘Add on a free lunch.’

‘Tell you what, this doesn’t work, I’ll bump it up to dinner and show you a couple of the discreet clubs around the city.’

‘Mark me down as intrigued. Deal.’

Emily let out a huff, swigging back a mouthful of wine before finally reopening the first app to start to put together her own profile. Maybe there really was a chance that this could work out.

Carly. 35.

Emily was almost late, one work call turning into another, turning into getting put on hold meant she didn’t have time to go change after work, arriving at Smoke and Mirrors still in her business casual. She was just in the nick of time and instantly found her date nestled into a cozy table on the patio overlooking the river, martini already in front of her.

It wasn’t necessarily that she slipped back into work mode, but her job did help her meet and interact with new people on a regular basis fairly easily. A warm smile and greeting, unsure how awkward something like a handshake would be considering the situation. A few rounds of drinks, a couple of split appetizers, and a decent enough time. While Carly could hold a perfectly good conversation and Emily could see them perhaps being friendly in the future, it wasn’t the right vibe. It certainly wasn’t helping that Emily could practically feel every set of eyes in the lounge on them throughout the night and that you didn’t have to be a profiler to put it together what kind of a situation was going on. It made Emily uncomfortable, like everyone was judging them, more specifically, her. If the two of them had been more friendly to each other right off the bat you might have been able to tell that it wasn’t a date, that they were colleagues or friends but that simply wasn’t the case. Her mind wandered to the thought that there was someone in the room that likely just assumed they were mother, daughter and that made her skin absolutely crawl and instantly ask if they could get the check. She at least felt a little bit better when Carly offered to split it, offering her a small smile that meant she was about on the same page.

Alice. 36.

This time Emily gave herself more than enough time to get home, have a glass of wine to help her relax and change into something more date appropriate. Alice had recommended Fiola and Emily had simply gone along with it, not realizing just how high end it actually was, her eyes widening at the fact that a single cocktail could set you back twenty-five to almost thirty dollars much less the food menu. At the very least, it seemed like the restaurant’s lounge was the place to be for date night on a Thursday, couples scattered throughout the place in various levels of dress. She noticed something on the menu advertising it being the place to be prior to theatre events and their server asked if they were attending a show tonight.

Emily had a little bit more faith in this one, feeling more comfortable considering the setting, actually relaxing as she laughed over her very expensive drink. It didn’t take long for the conversation to roll around to what one did when not out on the town and she let it slip that she worked for the government, a few more carefully worded questions and Alice had enough to figure out she was a fed, excusing herself to use the bathroom. When the room started to clear and Emily realized the other woman’s purse was gone from the back of her chair she let out a soft groan, realizing she was definitely stuck with the pricey cheque.

Lily 31.

Emily knew going in this one could be risky based off age alone. Lily’s profile seemed like she did this full time and she already wasn’t sure about things by the time she set foot into 1798. Her suspicions were confirmed when her phone went off with an urgent call she had to take, letting out a sigh as she returned to the table explaining that she had to leave for work and likely wouldn’t be back for a few days at least. In return Lily let out a huff and a whine like she was a toddler, crossing her arms over her chest and demanded that Emily pay for a three course dinner and send her roses each day she was going to be gone since she had wasted her time. Emily outwardly laughed, saying drinks were the only thing she’d even agreed to have, much less pay for and left as fast as she came in.

Kimberly. 39.

This one got postponed immediately as a case kept them out of town longer than anticipated. They were still only chatting back and fourth on the app and Emily was venting about being the one in charge and how her team were agents and you’d think they could handle certain things themselves but apparently not. She woke up the next morning to find a couple of messages that insinuated Kimberly might have been doing other things for money that weren’t exactly legal and thought it wasn’t a good idea to get involved with a cop. After Emily sent a reply agreeing, the match disappeared.

Emma. 34.

This one started off slow, a match, Emily shot off a message and waited a while to hear back. She was pleasantly surprised when her phone pinged with the reply she’d been hoping to get for a few days. They got along wonderfully, everything seemed to be falling right into place, their opinions, expectations, they shared a handful of the same favourite movies, foods, for once it seemed like things would be perfect. Emily opened the app when she got home from work that night to ask her out for drinks that weekend to find that she’d been completely ghosted, unmatched and no way to find Emma again.

Kori. 40.

The second match that had gone off without a hitch and a plan to meet at Blue Duck Tavern that coming Thursday night. Emily arrived a little bit early thanks to a complete lack of traffic and figured she would just grab a drink at the bar while waiting. You could only imagine her confusion when she was tapped on the shoulder and turned around to see an older than middle aged man with a timid smile introducing himself, apologizing that he didn’t look like his pictures.

That one earned an eye roll and a ‘yeah, right’ before Emily was heading for the door.

The week had finally come to a close and Emily had dismissed the BAU shortly after lunch, telling the team to get out of there while they still had the chance and everyone was quick to leave the building, herself included. Construction rerouted her normal commute home and when she ended up in the same neighbourhood as Heather’s office her mind wandered back to how unsuccessful her past two weeks had been and before she even really realized it, she was pulling into the parking lot.

“I’m being serious Heather, it’s fucking terrible.” She groaned, dropping down into a chair across from the other woman’s desk. “This is almost as bad as dating men was.”

“From what I heard some of them are men.” Heather replied with a tease and Emily shot her a glare.

“I just thought this would be easier.”

“Finding the right fit is the hard part, it’ll smooth over once you do.” Heather flipped the book in front of her closed, standing from her chair and crossing over to the liquor cart, filling up two glasses of scotch.

“I didn’t want to deal with the hard part though.” Emily continued to mope, thanking her for the glass.

“Drink. You’re too pent up.” She settled back at her desk, “you really do need to get laid.”

“Don’t you think I’m trying!?” She sucked back a mouthful of the liquor, stewing in her thoughts for a moment. “Please tell me you’re having more success in this than I am, how’s your bartender doing?”

“Are you kidding?” Heather laughed, “you saw her. She’s practically pathetic. She was pretty enough, but my god the level of insecurity? The constant whining and worrying? Don’t get me wrong, I love a good brat but there was no way she wouldn’t have been crying on my doorstep begging me to leave my husband in a week’s time.”

“Have you had that happen before?” Her eyes widened at the sheer thought of it as Heather nodded.

“Best piece of advice I can give you, don’t let them know where you live. Stick to hotels.”

“Noted.”

“What are you having the biggest trouble with? Maybe I can help.”

Emily sighed softly, swirling her cup as she stared into it, sorting through the string of failed dates, “honestly I don’t even know. Maybe I just need to play around with the age range…. Would probably help to bump it up a little it.”

“Anything under thirty-five does usually end up getting messy.”

“I want someone who has their life a little bit more put together; you know?”

“Mmhmm.” Heather replied over the rim of her drink, “you need to make sure that this isn’t their only source of income, that they have something else going on to fill their time and bank account up. Maybe someone who has an actual partner.”

“I don’t know about that.” Her nose crinkled, “would feel wrong. But someone who has a full time job and wouldn’t be completely dependant on me certainly would be nice. I don’t have the time or energy for that.”

“You need a gorgeous, ambitious girl who knows how to be discreet in public and likes get her brains fucked out in private.”

“Exactly.” She laughed, taking another sip of her drink as Heather tilted her phone screen towards her, hitting a couple of buttons before returning her attention to the other woman, “you know, if you ever think of changing career paths…”

“Become a matchmaker for sugar babies?” She chuckled, “there would likely be a market for that, maybe after retirement.”

Emily laughed, shaking her head as she watched the wheels start turning in the other woman’s head. She heard a brief knock on the door behind her before it swung open,

“I didn’t realize you needed this by the end of the day, sorry.” You swung through the office, coming to perch on the side of Heather’s desk as you handed her the file.

“It’s alright, it slipped my mind too.” Heather replied as she opened the file, skimming through it.

Her eyes flicked over to Emily briefly, watching the way her gaze drifted from the designer heels on your feet all the way to the necklace laying against your collarbone. You were dressed professionally yet incredibly stylish, dark pencil skirt, a peach sleeveless blouse tucked into it, blazer no doubt laying over the back of your desk chair. A delicate silver watch around one wrist, perfectly manicured nails and eyes that were suddenly set on her.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt. You’re FBI, right? Prentiss?” Your words jolted her out of her trance and she caught herself scrambling over the fact that you knew her name, wondering if she’d left her ID badge on after work.

“Well now I feel bad.” She laughed.

“Don’t.” Heather cut in, her eyes back on the file, “she just does checks on anyone that comes in here.”

“Ignore her.” You replied with a grin, sticking out your hand to introduce yourself, “y/n Walton.”

“And you’re what? Secret security?” Emily asked with a tease and you laughed as Heather tucked the file away into her desk.

“She’s the head of my PR team, does incredible work.”

“I should hope so, you practically groomed me into the assistant you needed.”

“I did not—” Heather scoffed, “you’re a horrible tease.”

“I do my job and then some, and I do it phenomenally.” You showboated for a second, grinning over at Emily before looking up at your boss, “which is why I’m double checking it’s still okay to duck out early tonight?”

“Why?” The other woman asked with a smirk, “you have a hot date or something?”

“Heather, please.” You barked out a laugh, “you’re a slave driver! You know I don’t have time to properly date with my schedule.”

“So why the need to play hooky?”

“A new Netflix special drops at six and I have a frozen pizza, a pint of ice cream and that bottle of Bordeaux screaming my name.” You slipped off the side of her desk, “besides, you still owe me the OT for putting together the gift baskets and flower arrangements for Senator Reeves. You do remember you have an assistant for that kind of shit, right?”

“Oh but sweetheart you’re so much better than them.”

“I know.” You grinned at her, “which is why I’m leaving early.”

She laughed, shaking her head, “keep your phone on.”

“Of course.” You turned, smiling across at Emily, “nice to meet you Agent Prentiss.”

Emily couldn’t help the way her eyes followed you out of the room before she finally turned back to Heather who was grinning like the cheshire cat over the rim of her drink.

“What?” She asked, feigning confusion and Heather chuckled.

“You liked what you saw.”

“Hard not to.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you drool like that over someone before.”

“I—I was not drooling!”

“Maybe not from your mouth.”

“Heather!” Emily felt her cheeks begin to burn, attempting to hide behind her glass as the brunette let out a dark laugh.

“Here, at least take her phone number.” Picking up a pen she scrawled the digits out onto a post it note, handing it to Emily.

“I don’t have time to date, you know this.”

“And you heard her.” She gestured toward the door, “she doesn’t either. You wanted someone with their head on straight who is comfortable occupying themselves when you’re working. I make her schedule; I guarantee she works as many hours as you do. Besides… she’s done this a couple of times before.”

That caught Emily’s attention, looking up from the yellow paper in her hand with her brow furrowed, “really?”

“Yes.”

“With women?”

“She needed some help through college, I was bored.” Heather shrugged, “worked out for both of us and now she’s on my actual payroll.”

“She’s been working for you that long?”

“Mmhm.” Heather nodded.

“So you really did groom her?” Emily teased and it was Heather’s turn to scoff, rolling her eyes.

“Just call her.” She half glared, “god knows she could use a night out, and one where she doesn’t have to rub elbows with politicians the entire time. She deserves a break and likely needs a good fuck, both of which I’m sure you can give to her.”

“We really don’t need to have that conversation.” She laughed, tucking the post it into her pocket, “but thank you. I will think about it.”

“Don’t think too long.” Heather smiled as Emily got up from her chair, scooping up her jacket from the back of it. “If you come back here in two weeks complaining about the shitty apps and you haven’t called her yet I’ll start feeding her lies about how much you suck.”

“Okay, okay.” She laughed, “I’ll call. And I’ll see you later.”

_________________

@mickey-gomez @momlifebehard @daddy-heather-dunbar @maybe-a-humanbean @rustyzebra @leftoverenvy @kades95 @dextur @supercriminalbean @emilyprentisssluvr @lex13cm @zizzlekwum @emobabeyy @riveramorylunar @scorpsik @onmykneesformarvel @inlovewithemilyprentiss @regalmilfs4me @ara-a-bird @five-bi-five-mind @inlovewithmiddleagewomen @hotchs-bitch @ollysmulti @kmc1989 @irishavengersassemble @hopedoesntknow @venromanova @waitaminuteashh @noahrex @imlike-so-gaydude @wittygutsy @cx-emerald-cx @momily @nilaues @borinxnovak @soverign @v3nusxsky @blackbird-brewster @mccdreamys-writes @l4yne @obsessedwjill @supercorpstan97 @asolitaryrose3 @honeyycatt @trauma-factory @lisqueen

#emily prentiss #emily prentiss x reader #criminal minds #decadent desires #criminal minds fanfic #emily prentiss fanfiction #heather dunbar

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turbulentscrawl · 5 months

Note

Since you asked for some angsty stuff...Hunters of your choice (can Fool's Gold and/or Ithaqua please be included if you have inspo for them🙏) accidentally fatally injuring their SOs during a match? Maybe they're sad/guilty and they expect their SOs to be fine after the match but then it turns out this death was permadeath/their SO is gone for good?

You…you wanna make those two guys MORE unstable? I like you ewe

Warnings: angst, very intense emotions, extreme violence, character death

Fool’s Gold

The relationship between Norton and Him was as odd as it was volatile, but they shared some deeper-than-understanding connection to one another. Which was why he’d been chosen to break the news to his alternate self, against all his protests. It wasn’t fair. Norton and Fool’s Gold were, at their cores, the same person with all the same desires. The same loves. Norton was hardly given a second to process your death himself and now he had to put himself in front of the broken mirror who’d done it.

‘Fool’s Gold’ stood in that crooked, stiff way of his while staring down Norton with a goading smile. It was just them in the garden—in the spot everyone knew the two of you would meet on full moons.

“Get lost,” Fool’s Gold croaks out. “You know this isn’t your place.”

“Yeah, well, it will have to be for right now,” Norton spits back, crossing his arms tight. It’s a poor comfort, a poor self-restraint. “I’ve got something to say to you.”

“Important enough to interrupt my date night,” He cackles. He rolls his neck, body rumbling and cracking as the coals of his torso shift. “Get on with it, then. Then get out of my wa—”

“They’re dead,” Norton says quickly. There’s no sense in delaying things. No amount of sugar coating will help calm the wrath Norton knows the amalgamation of all his worst parts is capable of conjuring. Fool’s Gold tilts his head a fraction. His grin wavers. “For good. We don’t know how or why. But that last match with you this week, when you…. You killed them for good.” Norton doesn’t try to hide the venom in his voice, but at least spares his counterpart a recounting of the gory details. Of how you suffered, burnt and broken.

“The fuck they are,” Fool’s Gold growls. “You think I’ve got rocks in my head, too? There’s no such thing as death here. Where are they? They’re mad about that hit, huh? I told them not to body block for that--”

“They’re dead!” Norton shouts. “You fucking killed them! They’re gone—for real, forever! The sooner you accept that, the sooner I can fuck off and go back to ignoring your worthless existence!”

Norton was suddenly dangling in the air by a crushing grip on his throat, having been drawn into Fool’s Gold’s rocky hand by the very polarity that had saved his life so many times before. But they shared that, too, and now he was stuck with that dead, enraged eye staring into his.

“Don’t you fucking lie to me!” Fool’s Gold roars, coughing and spitting all the way. Norton is wheezing too, both of them to quiver and suffocate with hurt carefully concealed under the blame and hatred for one another. “If anything…if anything, you’re hiding them. Think you’re so much better than me that you can steal the one good thing I got? I’ll crush you. I’ll CRUSH you. I’ll bring down that whole worthless fucking manor right to the ground and dig them out myself if I have to—WHERE ARE THEY!”

“It’s…your fault,” Norton chokes out with his last breaths, looking into his own murky eyes. “If you’d…n-never…existed—"

Fool’s Gold slams Norton’s body into the cobblestone like a ragdoll, rumbling the gardens and covering the grass with moonlit blood.

Ithaqua

He was not a man known for his patience—especially when it came to you. Ithaqua had been unbearable to all the other Hunters since your match with him, first enraged, then worried sick, it was completely pitiful. Somewhere between a kicked puppy and a snarling badger. Now, it was the survivor manor’s turn to be subjected to him.

Ithaqua paced in front of the Survivor manor, twitchy and impatient. Anyone who stepped foot outside was whipped into his clutches by a gust of wind and interrogated. He didn’t understand why they all had to make this so difficult. All he wanted was his lover. His other half. Why were these pitiful dolls denying him that?

“Bring them out here,” he’d growled at the squeaky little dancer. She got off the easiest, and that could have been the end of things, if she’d listened.

“Where are they?” he’d asked the psychologist, crushing her throat in a clawed hand while her pet beat at his stomach desperately. He’d let them go, too, because they reminded him of you and him in some pathetic way.

The third wasn’t so lucky. The batter had the nerve to claim you were dead. He was no fool, he knew that didn’t happen. He knew you were inside that stupid building, probably locked away by the rest of these survivor maggots out of some twisted sense of ‘protectiveness.’ Who did they think they were, to keep you two apart?

“You killed them,” the batter spat up at Ithaqua, who loomed over his crumpled body. “You beat them to death…like you’re doing to me now!” Ithaqua laughed maniacally. He’d hit you, sure, but only because you threw yourself in the way of the little blind girl. He’d told you before not to do that. That he didn’t want to hit you, that he couldn’t stop a swing in motion! But you did it anyway and took a detention-ed crack over the head. “They’re dead for good! They didn’t heal, they didn’t regenerate! We had to bury a corpse for the first time ever!!”

That gave Ithaqua some pause. Irrationally, impossibly…he didn’t hear lies in the bleeding man’s words. Something inside Ithaqua snapped with the realization, the thought that you might well and truly be gone. Without word or smile, he raised his axe and brought it down on this survivor’s head. He splattered open like a pinched grape.

It made no sense for true death to happen now of all times. To you of all people. If it were real, though, then there was a reason. Something was waiting beyond this cage. You were waiting, alone.

And Ithaqua would send everyone to meet you there, himself included.

Antonio

Antonio had brought flowers for you, but it was Alva and Michiko waiting for him at your tea party spot in the gardens. They were his friends, but their expressions did not bode well for this visit.

“What’s happened?” he asks, without preamble. “Have they refused to see me?” In your previous match, one in which he was the Hunter, he had killed you. Quite brutally, in fact, though everyone knew by now that whatever happened in matches was not by his choice. It was the reason he’d gathered a bouquet for your meeting today. He wanted to beg forgiveness.

“I’m afraid it’s something else, friend,” Alva says. “Would you sit with us?” he gestures to a seat at the garden table. It’s your chair, the one with a little bow tied to the armrest.

“If it’s all the same, I think I’d rather stand. But if this is not in regards to my love, what is it?” He couldn’t shake the sick feeling in his stomach, despite the small reassurance that you weren’t ignoring him.

“I received some concerning news in my last match,” Michiko spoke. She finally met Antonio’s gaze, and he realized, finally, how exhausted she looked. Like she hadn’t slept in days. “It seems there’s been a change to the rules of the manor. Or perhaps…an exception.”

“Lady Michiko has been punished for nonparticipation,” Alva took over, having noticed Antonio’s focus. “She’s been plagued by night terrors for throwing her most recent match.”

“Why would you do such a thing? What change of rules could have compelled you to take such torture?” Antonio wonders aloud. He creeps closer to his friends, setting your flowers at your seat.

“The survivors were terrified they’d be dead for good if I killed them. They had…proof. I would not be the one to test the theory,” Michiko said. Antonio opened his mouth to question again, but Michiko’s stare cut him off. She gazed deep into his soul, or where it would be if he had one, and he understood. His throat suddenly felt as if there was a stone lodged in it. He fought against his stitched smile with all his might.

“They…?”

“They are gone, Antonio,” Alva said. “I am truly sorry.”

Antonio felt his thins legs quivering beneath him, and suddenly he was in your chair, having fallen into the seat Michiko slid underneath him. He touched the armrests, wishing your hands were there to hold instead. Alva placed a hand on his shoulder and offered a handkerchief with the other.

“You should get away from me,” Antonio told them. He felt his body slipping with his sanity. A dark hole was underfoot, opening to swallow his entire, grief-broken being. He didn’t think he could ever recover from this. His everything was gone, his life, his love, and now the light itself was being swallowed by a devil’s shadow. He knew Michiko was over his shoulder, ready with her knife.

“Let us worry about that, friend,” Alva said. “We’ll be here for you, one way or another.”

Maybe, Antonio thought, he’d get lucky in the coming struggle and be killed for good himself.

#idv x reader #identity v #fools gold x reader #antonio paganini x reader #ithaqua x reader #idv night watch #idv fool's gold #idv violinist #norton campbell x reader #if you squint

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noosayog · 1 year

Text

wc: 800

part 4. directory here.

warnings/content: angst, tw cheating(?)

Despite your reluctant affections for Atsumu, much about your dynamic remains unchanged. He still makes you mad enough to yell at him at least once a day, all while wearing that cheeky grin that you hated that you loved.

Something that has changed, though, is Atsumu taking you out and showing you off, teasingly introducing you to all his teammates and friends as "his girl." You, bonafide relationship-newbie, do not have the courage to ask him directly as he continues to toe the line between dating and… not.

The most degrading part of it all is the fact that you know why you don't just talk to him. It's true that you just don’t know the proper procedure for the natural progression of a romantic relationship, but that's an excuse. You're scared of what you'll find when you ask wonderboy Atsumu, well-liked by most everyone and incredibly physically blessed, what he's doing with a rain-cloud grump like you. If prolonging that conversation would mean that you get to enjoy this limbo of having his attention and affections in private, there are worse games to play. Probably.

It's not unusual to find yourself in Atsumu's apartment these days. You’re a mainstay when he throws parties after games. Ironically, it's been a whole semester since your first encounter and it's once again finals week when Atsumu had begged you to at least show your face at his party. It was the least you could do for him since he allowed you to skip his game in favor of studying for your last final, consequently making you miss his game-winning service ace. In your usual grumbly fashion, you had agreed and let him press a sweet, indulgent kiss to your cheek. He had gotten a smile out of you in reward when he cheered rambunctiously at you agreeing to merely grace the party with your presence.

The time is far past 10 PM when you finally look up from your notes and you curse, getting up to bolt for Atsumu's room to keep your promise. You run past your mirror on your way out to be greeted with your eye bags and creasing on your cheeks from when you took a brief nap on your textbook. You scrutinize your face and figure you'll try to look a little nice for Atsumu tonight. After all, he had a big win today and you're already a bit late, so what's the harm in a few extra. In a manner truly unlike yourself, you take some time to doll up before heading out. You're practically skipping on your way to his door, looking forward to the look of shock Atsumu will give you then the subsequent teasing. You can already hear his lazy drawl, smugly grinning as he says "all dressed up for me, sweetheart?"

When you knock on the door, his teammates answer, all greeting you pleasantly and politely making comments about your appearance. They all sweep you into the kitchen, offering you drinks and snacks and asking how your day was. Had you been a little less excited and a little more yourself, you would have noticed the tense looks on their faces.

It becomes a bit strange when even Sakusa continues to badger you with questions about your semester, finals week, and vacation plans. You level them with a look containing the usual sharp glint in your eyes and ask where Atsumu is. Shifty eyes don't meet yours as they all scramble to respond simultaneously.

"Out."

"He's actually asleep-"

"Went to find dinner-"

You frown and push past the wall of hulking athletes towards Atsumu's shut bedroom door. Your fingers are curled around the doorknob when Sakusa places a hand on your shoulder. He doesn't say anything and you don't turn to face him, only turning the knob. His hand on your shoulder falls away.

You're not sure what to expect when you enter Atsumu's room but this is certainly not it. Cliché as it is, you have never imagined yourself in a situation where you would see someone who filled you with so much hope and took so many of your firsts and inflicted you with so much of an unfamiliar emotion kissing someone else.

You see Atsumu lying on his back, on his bed, with a woman you've never seen before straddling his hips and hovering incriminatingly close to his face.

At your intrusion, Atsumu's eyes fly open. You can see the thoughts and excuses flash across his eyes in one second, but you've seen all you need to so you back away without a single word, fleeing the scene.

That's when you realize that you and blondie have maybe been playing different games this whole time. Or at least playing the same game, but there you were, perfectly content with your measly houses on Pennsylvania Ave on the Monopoly board while Atsumu's building hotels down the street on Park Avenue.

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