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cacoetheswriting · 8 months

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honesty: the music video

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 2.3k summary: after a long day on set, you can't wait to get it on with your costar.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: mature themes, literally smut with a minor plot, established relationship, unprotected p in v, overstimulation, praise kink, dom-ish eddie, adult language, heavy use of pet names, mentions of aftercare — if i missed anything in this chapter, pls let me know!

celebrity skin. masterlist <- part of this lil' universe, but can totally be read as a stand-alone. timeline wise, this takes place somewhere after part 3 and before end part 5.

“We want it to be sexy.”

“But not too sexy.”

“Revealing.”

“But not too revealing.”

“Sounds like you guys don’t know what you want,” Eddie chimes in, interrupting the back and forth of your respective teams.

You stifle a giggle.

“That’s ‘cause of the two distinct styles,” someone from your team clarifies, “We wanna be respectful.”

“For sure,” one of the creatives on the Corroded Coffin side agrees. There’s a short pause. “We will have you two kiss at the end, though.”

At that, Eddie smirks. He looks at you from across the table and you could just about melt right there, blood rushing to your face, warming your cheeks.

“That won’t be a problem,” he says confidently and winks.

Honesty was a guaranteed hit. Top of the charts. Everybody that’s been so far involved in the project said it. They praised it. From the bass, drums, to the guitar and vocals. The production value was off the scale. A dream arrangement that would stand the test of time.

All the song needed was a music video equally as captivating.

A back and forth discourse began shortly after you first started recording with the band: whose style should the clip resemble more?

Corroded Coffin screamed all things dark, maybe a little gory. Their usual expression featured slightly melancholy undertones and a lot of references to all things Dungeons & Dragons. Imaginative, for sure. An artistry that had rarely been seen in the genre.

Although it’s been an artistry vastly different from yours.

The glitter hadn’t necessarily been your idea, but it certainly became a signature of sorts. Anything sparkly, always. And music videos that told a story. Most often one of love since that’s what you idolised ever since you were a kid — it obviously helped that love also sold millions of copies.

Eddie’s team argued that it’s the band’s song and you’re just a feature, therefore the accompanying video should lean into their style. Your management team was hesitant to agree. Calculating risk in case the lines get blurred a little too much and your pristine image shifts to the opposite end of the spectrum. Hours of arguments. Hours of negotiations. None of which you, or the rockstar were even mildly aware of. Too lost in each other's eyes and soft cotton sheets.

Eventually, a compromise, of sorts, was found.

Ernest Hemingway’s The Killers influenced, in part, a 1946 film noir of the same title, with Ava Gardner and Burt Lancaster taking the lead. The movie, in turn, inspired the black and white music video.

Done up in flair of the characters, Kitty Collins and Ole Anderson (aka Swede), you recreated iconic scenes alongside the brown-eyed rockstar. The rest of the band was also dressed to the nines. Side characters that played their instruments in the background of main shots. They blended in well, while adding a unique spin to the known story.

Overall, the Honesty shoot quickly became a big spectacle. Bigger than anything Eddie Munson and his band of closest friends has ever been lucky enough to be a part of.

Intricate sets. Glamourous. In front of cameras and bright lights, you and your scene partner, Eddie, mouthed along the lyrics to the song as if they were a script. And with every scene, as if the two of you were the only people actually there, no equipment and no crew, you got lost a tiny bit. Lost in the chocolate of the rockstar’s wide gaze. In the way he smelled. The style of that decade suited the brunette greatly, so you became lost in how he looked in this character. Dapper. Unlike you’ve ever witnessed him before. He committed to the role too. A certain swag in his movements. How he touched you so hesitantly, delicately because that’s what the video required.

By the end of the night, after the director yells, “Cut!” to signalise a wrap, a round of applause for all involved in this project, you’re feeling hot and bothered. Sweaty, though not because you just completed a full day’s work. No. Somehow, you found the Corroded Coffin frontman even more attractive than at the start of that day — something you didn’t think was possible. When you glance in his direction, he’s already staring you down, and you know he feels the same way.

Backstage, inside your trailer, you’re sitting cross-legged on the couch. Fingertips at your lips as you wait for that inevitable knock on your door. You know it’s only a matter of time considering the build up of tension throughout the shoot. From the lingering touches and that kiss the director had you two repeat over and over and over…

Logically, you could wait until the two of you were home. Back at Eddie’s Hidden Hills mansion, away from prying eyes and ears. In a bed that’s become all too familiar. Far from possible interruptions. Logic however, well, right now, logic was taking a back burner ‘cause you needed him now. Desperately. And without a doubt, Eddie needed you too.

A knock. Then again. But the rockstar doesn’t wait for you to answer. He lets himself in.

“What happened to the wig?” You ask, raising a brow.

“It was itchy,” he replies with a slight laugh, then shakes his head. “I much prefer my natural locks.”

“That’s too bad,” you say with a slight shrug, “You looked quite smart with that short hair.”

Eddie hangs his head with a smile, though his eyes don’t leave yours. Not even for a second. That’s when you notice the glimmer. That look, the reason he’s here, just like you predicted. So you return the expression. Only yours is a little more sly. Tempting him. Teasing.

“I had fun today.”.

“Me too.”

There’s a lot that happens in the seconds after you stand up. A lot that happens quickly.

Eddie reaches for your wrist, pulling you closer before wrapping his, for once, ringless hand around yours completely. He presses it to the middle of his chest, holding it against his heart. You can feel it beating and that’s enough to make you melt ‘cause it’s strong and you swear it skips at the contact. His other hand reaches for the base of your throat. He holds it gently, caressing upwards until he’s gripping your jaw.

“Kissing you in front of all those other people kinda got me going,” he admits in a low tone.

Naughty, that’s what you want to say, but you don’t get the chance ‘cause his lips crash into yours. Hungry. Desperate. Rough. Heat rushes through your body at the sudden contact, no different than any other time his mouth found yours. You’re at his mercy, always, and he knows it well.

His tongue glides along your top lip and you part your lips to accept him without hesitation. He wastes no time sliding into your mouth, letting this tongue work in tandem with yours as he tilts his head to further deepen the kiss. The hand holding yours lets go, instead finding home on the small of your back, pushing you as close to him as humanly possible. His other hand lets go of your jaw, albeit not completely. Ghosting along the side of your neck before you feel him wrap it around your throat, squeezing lightly. It’s nothing new for Eddie to be a little rougher with you, but there’s something about this moment, after a full day of moderate teasing and borderline foreplay, that causes a moan to burst through you when he squeezes again, only harder.

The rockstar pulls back, sporting a devilish grin. “Making such pretty noises for me and we haven’t even gotten to the best part.”

“Do your worst, Eds.” It’s a dare. Nothing sweet about it.

He smirks at the challenge and before you can register what exactly is happening, Eddie is lifting you up swiftly, hiking up your dress in the process, only to drop you down onto the sofa with a gentle thud. You’re wide-eyed as he unbuckles his belt with one hand, the other tugging at the pantyhose the wardrobe lady had you wear for the last scene of the video. He partially rips them off of you, then he hikes his index finger along the band of your underwear, eagerly pulling them down your legs until they’re wrapped around your ankles, with the reminisce of your stockings.

“The heels stay on,” the rockstar instructs, pushing your legs apart with force and positioning himself in between. All you can do is nod. Half-naked, half in costume. Same as him.

In the space of a heartbeat, his lips are on yours again. This time they don’t stay for long, instead moving downwards towards your chest. When he squeezes your breast through the silk material of your dress, he compliments how fucking good you looked, “I wanted to ravish you the second I saw you, baby.”

You whimper at his words, and at the fact that his now freed cock is gently brushing against your wet folds. Not quite breaching, just teasing you further. Only adding to the overall stimulation.

“God, you’re so fucking hot. So fucking pretty. And all mine.” Eddie’s breathing into your bare chest ‘cause somehow in the moment your dress has slipped down ever so slightly and your tits made an appearance. Fingers from one hand are digging into your hip, holding you in place, while the other has you by the ribs. Thumb brushing your soft skin while his hot mouth is sucking on your hardened nipple.

Your eyes are closed. You’re not sure when you closed them. He’s invading your senses all at once. Just when you feel like you can’t take it anymore, when you want to whither and plead for him to touch you where you need him most, Eddie plunges himself into you without warning and your eyes snap open.

“Oh God…” he groans, drawing his hips back only to slam them in again, making your body bounce against him. “Fuck, baby. Jesus.”

You sob in pleasure as Eddie knocks the wind out of you with each relentless thrust, still increasing his speed. Heavy panting and grunting fills the trailer, along with the sounds of where his cock slams against your sweet juices. He’s sitting straight now. Eyes are fixated on the mess you’re both making, where his length disappears in and out of you, while you admire the way his locks fall naturally in place. Although briefly, ‘cause you’re arching your back the next second, rolling your eyes to the back of your head when he hits that sweet spot.

“So. Fucking. Pretty.” He growls. “You’re so fucking pretty when you’re all stretched open like this, sweetheart. Your pussy was made for my cock, baby. You take it so well. You take this big dick so well, my good girl. Fucking made for me. Ain’t that right, dollface?”

“Made for you, Eds.” You just about whisper back, nodding your head feverishly.

Slap. His hand makes contact with your thigh and you practically wail. “That’s right,” he praises, “Made for me. So fucking tight for me.” Slap. Slap. Slap.

Eddie’s cock starts to swell. You can feel it expand inside of you, then again when he thrusts back in. It has you heaving. The speed he’s established is close to becoming a little too much for the two of you and he drops his weight slightly, allowing you to wrap your arms around him, nails digging into his bare back. He can sense that you too are close and he’s trying hard to hold back, make this moment last longer, but his body refuses to slow down. Chasing the way your glistening pussy chokes his length.

“Where do you want me baby?”

“Inside,” you croak out. “Cum in me, Eddie. Please. I need you to fill me up.”

“M’mph—” He chokes out, movements growing more and more erratic. The whole trailer is shaking at this point, that’s what it feels like to the two of you anyway. “Everybody out there will know what a good little slut you are. Not that innocent. Wanting me to fill you full of my cum, fuck.”

Slap. Slap. Against your thigh.

“Please, Eddie.”

Slap.

“Shh… I’ll give you what you want, sweetheart.” He coos, “Gonna pump you full. Gonna make you see stars while my cum drips out of you.”

That’s when you shatter around him, uncontrollable desperate squeals making him groan louder as he continues. It’s sloppy, messy, and once you’ve completely unravelled underneath him, the rockstar can’t contain himself any longer. He lets out a broken moan as ropes and ropes of his warm spend start to throb into your hole.

His body gives up at the last spur and he drops flat on top of you, although not without a loose kiss placed to your jaw. His cock remains inside of your pussy. You can feel it pulsing until, after a few minutes, it no longer matches the beat of your heart.

Eddie lifts himself then. He kisses you softly and you smile against his mouth. When he eventually slips out and stands, he tells you not to move, that he’ll grab a towel from the small trailer bathroom and will help you get cleaned up.

“Wardrobe is going to kill us,” you call after him, balancing on your elbows as you sit up slowly. “Pretty sure these clothes can never be worn again. Purely for the fact that they reek of sex.”

“At least your wig stayed in place,” Eddie points out lightheartedly when he returns, his pants once again buckled, a towel in his hand. “That’s something the hair and makeup team should be proud of.”

“I’ll be sure to tell them,” you say, meaning it as a joke ‘cause there’s no way you would ever admit to what sins the two of you just committed.

Eddie smirks. “Pretty sure they already know,” he says as if it’s no big deal, “We weren’t exactly quiet, sweetheart.”

as always, thank you for reading! pls comment, reblog & support your creators.

celebrity skin. masterlist | the killers (1946) reference

& the celebrity skin. taglist: @eviethetheatrefreak , @thirddeadlysin , @haylaansmi , @nope-thanks , @tlclick73 , @vintagehellfire , @ashlynnkennedy , @avalon-wolf , @sidthedollface2 , @astheni-a , @bebe07011 , @aysheashea , @papillonoirsworld , @vol2eddie , @spideyanakin-interacts , @rogers-sweatbands , @mimsie95 , @mmunson86 , @eddiesguitarskills - (if your user is crossed out, it means the tag isn’t working. pls check you’ve enabled tagging in your settings)

#this one is a little self indulgent ngl #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson filth #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x f!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie smut #stranger things #stranger things smut #celebrity skin.

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imperatorrrrr · 27 days

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another new Nico Hischier interview, this time in French, highlights below:

Q: Are you still living your dream? A: Yes, of course. It has always been my dream to be a professional hockey player. It is an honour to be able to do it, to have the health to do it. To do what I love. Many others would have loved to be in my shoes. I wake up every morning with the thought that I am privileged. I do my best to help my team win games.

Q: You are presented as a hockey star. How big is the pressure? A: It is enormous. It starts right away when you become a professional player. And it stays the whole time. In Europe and across the Atlantic. The pressure is everywhere, not just in hockey. It is about knowing how to manage it. To put yourself in a condition to release it. It is not always easy, when you have thousands of people scrutinizing what you do. You have to take the best of it. The pressure helps me give the best of myself in every situation. That is how I can go to bed with a good feeling without being disappointed in myself.

Q: "It's not always easy," according to you. What were the most complicated moments of your career? A: The most difficult period was undoubtedly the season marked by Covid. Also because of the injuries that affected me. I learned a lot from that period. There was the virus. I was injured, I trained in my corner. Fortunately, my mother was able to join me, even in times of pandemic, to be by my side during the operation. I realized at that moment that health was the most important aspect. These injuries affected me at the time, but they also sounded like an inner awakening. I was able to put the cursor on what matters and in sport it is health.

Q: How do you deal with loneliness and being away from your loved ones? A: That's not easy either. I love Switzerland. I love being here with my family and friends. It's very important, even more so during the summer, to be with the people who matter, to recharge my batteries. When I go back to the United States, my life pretty much revolves around hockey. Well, only around hockey. We play three to four games a week, we travel a lot. When my friends or family come to see me, it gives me a good boost. To sum up, I appreciate both situations: my life there but also being able to come back, recharge my batteries and go back to America to give my all in hockey.

Q: Who are your friends and how do you find the balance between hockey and everything else? A: In the team, I share a lot of things with Jonas Siegenthaler and Timo Meier. Guys I already knew from a young age. It's cool to be able to play with them. I'm also lucky to have been able to meet players from other countries, to meet new people. Americans, Canadians, Swedes, Czechs. It's very enriching to have all these cultures and to be able to come together around a common passion.

Q: Has life in the United States changed you? What is American in you? A: Open-mindedness. Being open to others, to meeting new people. You don't need to be friends with everyone, but it is important to listen to others, to take their opinions into account. Nevertheless, I remain very Swiss, I feel very Swiss.

Q: What do you mean? A: I don't know. I'm still very close to my family, my friends. I try not to attract too much attention. I'm content with little things, simple things. A good dinner, a raclette from time to time, a good glass of wine. These are moments that I appreciate.

Q: Let's talk about your club, the New Jersey Devils. A club that has evolved considerably since your arrival? A: That's for sure. It's very different from what I knew when I started. We were among the youngest on the team with Jasper Brett and Pavel Zacha. The other teammates were all more or less in their thirties. Everything was new to me. But it was good. I was able to learn a lot from all the experienced players. They made me understand a lot of things. What it means to be a Devil, how to take care of your body, it was very varied. In the middle of my journey, the team got younger and I had to take on more and more responsibilities. Today, there are obviously some younger than me. It's changed a lot in 7 years and that's normal. For my part, I try hard to present the best version of myself every day.

Q: You are seen as a leader. You are a leader. Was that natural for you? A: Absolutely. On the ice, it's clear. I've always wanted to do things well. I've always wanted to win. A true leader has to have that mentality, putting your ego aside for the good of the team. Off the ice, I'm not the most visible or the loudest but I also enjoy the camaraderie, the jokes and the outings. Maybe that's where I have the most to learn. But I'm still learning. I'm only 25 years old. There's still more to explore.

Q: You might think that communication is essential? A: It is very important. You never know how people react, what they need. You have to find a good balance between what you give, what you ask and what you receive. To be a leader, you need empathy, understanding but also firmness in your demands. Some aspects were more complicated for me but I try to find the right balance.

Q: Is the feeling of representing Switzerland even stronger when you have a career so far away like you? A: It's clear. They speak Swiss German in the locker room. I meet friends I had known in juniors. Hockey remains a small world, a small environment and not just in Switzerland. And it's always nice to meet up with people you know to share such an experience in a world championship.

Q: Are you ambitious, optimistic for the next big events, the 2026 Olympics and the 2026 World Cup? A: Of course. We have proven in recent years that we have a very good Swiss team. We know how it works in sport. Every piece is important, every detail counts to reach the top. But we have to believe in our chances. And we have a good group, as I said. I am looking forward to the next tournaments. The Olympic Games are certainly a dream for me, having never been there. It is different from a world championship but we will have the same ambition. You never know in sport.

Q: Your season is so long. You could skip the Swiss national team selections. Why is it so important? For the good times, the ones that remain. I grew up watching Switzerland. And to be able to represent them, it really means something special to me. It's always a pleasure to wear this jersey, to see the fans of the national team. It gives me a lot of joy. It hasn't happened yet, but the only reason that would make me give up would be physical unavailability or mental fatigue. If I feel fit, I'll go. If not, it's a matter of being honest and giving up, because it wouldn't be good for me or for the team.

#Nico Hischier #New Jersey Devils #NJ Devils #NJD #Devils #Swiss National Team #I didn't include every question but included most of them #Nico wine connoisseur confirmed #Nico Momma' boy confirmed #Nico my entire personality is Switzerland Hischier confirmed #him talking about the Olympics #also shout out to Timo and Siegs #AND Pavs and Jesp

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fandom · 2 years

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Queer TV

This is a strange time to be writing an editorial on queer representation. While the past year has seen an incredible uptick in queer stories being told with humor and heart on the small screen, 2022 has seen a record high of 238 proposed anti-LGBTQIA+ bills in the US—nearly half of them targeting trans folks. Representation is important, though, and demand for more queer stories is growing (and, to some degree, being met), with a lot of good books and comics making it to our screens. With that in mind, think of this as your selective chronological tour of all the times we won in the TV landscape of the last year (October 2021–October 2022).

Our dataset year started off with the much-awaited adaptation of Robert Jordan’s fantasy epic, Wheel of Time. With such extensive source material (15 books if you count the prequel, which is where the seeds of the sapphic storyline in Rafe Judkins’ adaptation are to be found), the viewership, generally speaking, was divided into book fans and show-only fans, and both camps shitposted and meme’d and reviewed with abandon.

The biggest queer-centric show we saw in the last year was the adaptation of @aliceoseman’s comic Heartstopper (@heartstoppercomic). Co-created by Alice Oseman themself, this adaptation was very sensitive to the much-loved source material. And, being native to Tumblr, these characters were bound to be welcomed with open arms when they hit the screen in an ebullient explosion of queer joy.

A run-down of the past year would be incomplete without the incredible queerdos of the Revenge who swashbuckled their way into our hearts. We’re referring, of course, to Our Flag Means Death’s Gentleman Pirate and his merry band of (living-wage-paid, no less!) shipmates. Your favorites included genderqueer Jim ‘not-a-fucking-mermaid’ Jimenez and Oluwande, Lucius Sprigg and Black Peter, Frenchie who just hates cats, and The Swede, who keeps his heart but loses his teeth. Then, of course, we have Blackbeard himself, or simply Ed, who is struggling with his identity (villain or softboi).

Based on the story by @veschwab and produced by @belletristbooks, First Kill was another adaptation that fans of vampire stories got very excited about. Add to that the fact that this was very much a sapphic enemies-to-lovers scenario between hunter Calliope and young vampire Juliette, and the pre-show excitement was palpable. The post-season disappointment even more so as fans turned to their dashes to vent about the lack of good lesbian and wlw representation in 2022’s TV landscape.

Where the cancelation of First Kill left us reeling, the Rockford Peaches from A League of Our Own came in clutch and soothed our sapphic souls. You love the show which you affectionately shortened, in good old Tumblr fashion, to a silly little acronym: aloto. Whether you’re in it for the gal pal aesthetics, the butch energy, or Uncle Bert, or some good old fashioned baller drama, there truly was something for all of your wlw whimsies here. Let’s go, Peaches!

@neilgaiman’s The Sandman series finally came out to much acclaim, and came out so gay that armchair reviewers of the homophobic sort really struggled to wrap their minds around quite how gay it is. We got pansexual serial killing Corinthian! Pansexual, demon-hunting, women-kissing Johanna Constantine! Some very loaded moments between Morpheus and Hob Gadlin! This is what dreams are made of (sort of)!

This whole list would be nothing, nada, a crumb of zilch whizzing around a black hole, if it weren’t for the writers who created many of these stories in the first place. So thank you to them. And to you, Tumblr, for celebrating the good and standing up for each other through another year. Here’s to a kinder 2023.

#year in review #queer tv #tumblr2022

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b14augrana · 4 months

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Lacy

Fridolina is perfect in your eyes. Too perfect, actually, and it drives you crazy

Fridolina Rolfö x reader

masterlist

Warnings: jealousy and reader lowkey has issues

A/N: i’m the biggest frido fan on this planet so this sucked to write ily frido 🙁. i wrote this at 12:30 am so it’s not very good + not proofread and i’m very sorry in advance

You grew up loving Spanish football.

The technicality of it was your favourite thing and later on, you tried to incorporate it into your own play style. It set you apart from your teammates and made you stand out… until she came along.

The Swedish talent, incredible defender, the attacking fullback of everyone’s dreams. Fridolina Rolfö. You had played against her a handful of times and she was nothing short of talented; she was probably the first fullback you had seen that dribbled so high up the wing with so much confidence and actually managed to make something out of it.

Your usual position was in the midfield, but when your starting right back got injured, you found yourself shoved into a completely new position. You loved carrying the ball up the field and creating plays or dictating the game, but from the back, you could hardly do that. Due to the lack of real opportunities to let yourself shine, Fridolina got all the attention. The more goals she scored, the more assists she got, the more headlines she made in German sporting media.

The worst part? She was genuinely nice, so you had no proper reason to hate her besides being extremely jealous. She was kind and always complimented you during training and encouraged you during every match.

Your transfer to Barcelona couldn’t have happened at a more convenient time. Just as you were nearing your breaking point with her perfectness, your contract expired and you signed with the Spanish club. You had no intention of renewing with Wolfsburg, not while she was there. You wanted that fresh start, you wanted to thrive in a completely new place and finally learn the Spanish way of football first-hand.

The first season was amazing. You were breaking personal records and putting up performances for your new club, solidifying yourself as a starting player. You made friends and learned many things both on and off the pitch, and on top of that, you won your first couple trophies outside of Germany. You were at the peak of your happiness.

Of course it had to be ruined by a certain Swede arriving at the club only a season later. “(Y/N), it’s such a coincidence! I loved playing with you, so I could never turn down the contract they offered me,” she happily said to you on her first day. You smiled back at her despite wanting to bash your head against a wall, because you couldn’t find it in yourself to be mean.

She stuck with you during her first couple weeks at the club until she got familiar with everyone else; to you, those were the worst weeks of your life as you were forced to confront the reality that she was perfect as ever and you were sickeningly envious of her.

Over the course of the next season, it became harder to understand how she had almost no room for imperfection. Her only flaw was something stupid like not being able to bake which was something you couldn’t do either, so that didn’t make you feel any better.

Everyone in your team loved her. She was a good player, an excellent one even. She was soft spoken and respectful, and a team player who fit right in almost immediately.

She loved cafés and coffee, like Ingrid. She enjoyed kayaking and swimming, like Lucy and Ona. She loved dogs, like Alexia. She liked to travel, like Aitana.

She was everything you wished you could be, and it made you curse her name in the dark emptiness of your bedroom after hours. It made you watch her for a second longer during training, even while you’re on the other side of the pitch. It made you smile at her in the changing room and ask her how she is.

She didn’t even have to try to be adored, whereas it felt like you had been trying to catch anyone’s eye since the beginning of time. She breathed and the media was all over her.

As the season progressed, the envious feeling became a regular thing when you were around Fridolina, so you had gotten used to it. You felt bad for feeling such a way but your heart overpowered your brain and the feelings persisted.

You were having the best season of your career so far, between qualifying for a Champions League semifinal and becoming a league champion once again on top of winning the Copa de La Reina and Supercopa.

During the second leg of the semifinal against Chelsea, you were taken out inside the box, granting your team a penalty. You stepped up to take it with the chance to put you and your team ahead, but before you could even walk up to the spot, blonde hair swished past you and before you could process anything, the ball hit the back of the net and you saw Fridolina running away to celebrate it. You couldn’t even afford to be angry on the surface, because then everyone would know something was wrong and you’d have to come clean and hurt Fridolina and say something that would surely upset her so.. you celebrated with your team. Like anyone in your position would.

That was your breaking point though — her being under the spotlight once again, proving that she’s so magnificent and better than you and perfect.

Perfect, once again.

The worst part was, even as you sat in the changing rooms on your own, fighting back tears, you knew you couldn’t entirely loathe her out of any amount of jealousy. You couldn’t loathe her more than you loathed your own mind, which betrayed you by worshipping her like some sort of idol.

The rude awakening that you worshipped her settled in as you tried to ignore the fact she was the type of person you prayed to be like, to a god you barely believed in.

Fucking perfect angel Fridolina. Damn you.

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woso-dreamzzz · 11 months

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Nightmares

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of the Big Adventures Universe

Summary: You have a nightmare and go seek comfort from your parents

You shuffle out of your room, hand on the wall to guide you.

The sun isn't up yet and you can't tell the time so the little blinking lights on the owl clock your Momma bought you is meaningless.

You sniffle as you walk, clutching tight to the swan plushie in your hand.

You reach the end of the hallway and stop, peering up at the door. Unlike yours, which is always left slightly open, it's closed. Your hand grasps the handle and you push, stumbling inside and shutting it after you.

Your parents are lying in bed - fast asleep.

Morsa is a lump in the middle of the bed, clutching the duvet and an extra blanket with her head buried into her pillow. Momma is lying a bit to the side of her, rolled up in the tiniest sliver of blankets she has managed to steal from Morsa.

You reach out and nudge her.

She doesn't move.

You sniffle and nudge her again, head turning when you hear the soft sound of the house settling around you - heart in your throat at the noises.

"Momma," You say in a hushed voice - strung through with fear," Momma!"

Her eyes flutter open for a second as she blindly reaches out for you. Her hand catches your face at first, wacking you straight in the nose before it repositions to catch the back of your neck as she nudges you forward.

"Princesse," She rasps," It's too early. Go back to bed."

"Bed with you," You insist," Bed with you!" You're halfway to tears and you sniffle louder than before, trying to muffle your cries into your swan.

Your Momma fully wakes up at the sound.

She sits up and, in an instant, you're cradled in her arms. "Oh, princesse," She coos to you, wiping your tears and holding you close," Don't cry, don't cry. What's wrong?"

"Bad dream," You sob out," Monsters an'-an' couldn't find you or Morsa and monster comin' to get us!"

"It's okay," Momma says, rocking you back and forth and wiping your tears away.

Pernille nudges Magda in the back, rolling her eyes slightly at the Swede's ability to sleep through anything. She nudges her again before resorting to pulling Magda's extra blanket away.

Magda wakes up slowly. "Wha-?"

"Magda," Pernille hisses," Wake up!"

Magda blinks into consciousness and rolls onto her side, already prepared to argue with Pernille for waking her up at three in the morning. Her face softens though when she sees you cradled in Pernille's arms with tears running down your cheeks and your favourite toy clutched in a grip so tight that your knuckles are turning white.

"What's wrong? What happened, y/n?" She reaches out to wipe some tears away before digging around on her bedside table for the sippy cup of water she keeps there for you.

"Princesse had a nightmare," Pernille says when it becomes clear that you're too busy sobbing to talk properly," About monsters coming to get us."

"No monsters here," Magda says, helping you have a drink by holding the cup for you," The door's closed. They can't get in if the door's closed."

You relax marginally at that as Momma combs through your messy bed hair. You're panting when Morsa finally pulls away your drink, satisfied that you've replaced the fluids you've lost from crying.

You sniffle one last sniffle as you relax your hold on your swan and lean back into Momma.

"Alright, princesse," Morsa says with a yawn," You ready to sleep again?"

You frown slightly, your exhausted, sleep-hazed brain trying to work out what she means. "With you and Momma," You say finally," In the big bed."

Magda gives Pernille a hard look, as if to say 'this-is-all-your-fault'. When you still lived in Germany and Momma still played in the green-Wolfsburg jersey, she let you sleep with her, in her big bed she didn't have to share with Morsa, all the time.

Morsa has been trying to break you out of the habit of co-sleeping with them when she got the rude awakening on the second day of the move to England when you had come into their bed uninvited at some point in the night and curled up on the pillow like some kind of feral cat.

"Magda," Pernille says in warning with a pointed look of her own," She's scared. She's had a nightmare. It's different."

Magda huffs a little but doesn't argue.

Instead, she plucks you from Pernille's hands and lays you down, tucked into her side as she tries to smooth down your wild bed hair.

You smile sleepily up at Momma, who passes over your swan and helps Morsa tuck you in.

You're out like a light after that, snoozing peacefully on Magda's pillow with Pernille looking down at you fondly.

#woso x reader #magdalena eriksson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso imagine #woso fanfics #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

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mommahughes19-23 · 4 months

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2 months - N.H

small note incase you dont know : (EDITED) Nina is Nico Hischiers sister irl and Sarah is Nico Daws girlfriend irl. NICO HISCHIER DOESNT HAVE A GF THAT I KNOW OF

momma.yn : from the late nights to early mornings, constantly having to pee, and wanting to kill everyone I think @nicohischier and I made a pretty cute baby 💓 Welcome to the world Sasha Hischier , you are already so loved

tagged : @nicohischier

nicohischier : the most amazing momma out there and thank you meine tochte (my daughter) for the past 2 months❤️‍🔥

dawson1417 : @momma.yn Ryleigh and me are so happy you popped, idk how much longer I could deal w your attitude

↪ nicodaws : for real , you drop ONE cookie and its over🤧

↪ momma.yn : EXCUSE ME FOR CARRYING LIFE AND BECOMING HORMONAL . NO CUDDLES FROM MY DAUGHTER FOR YOU @dawson1417 @nicodaws .

jesperbratt : I can't wait to convert her to a mini swede🇸🇪🇸🇪

↪ nichohischier : in your dreams buddy 🙅🏻 @jesperbratt

↪ tmeier96 : not about to let that happen sorry 🙅🏻 @jesperbratt

jackhughes : "omg jack that camera was the best baby shower gift I got" @momma.yn dw I know its how I do

↪ momma.yn : good riddance jacklynn😤🤫

↪ lhughes_06 : @jackhughes you act like you paid for it on your own bud 🤨

ninahischier : welcome to the family little one , Tante kann es kaum erwarten, dich zu verwöhnen 🤩😭 (aunty can't wait to spoil you)

↪ tmeier96 : Wer hat gesagt, dass du derjenige sein darfst, der sie verwöhnt? 🫷🏻🤡 (who said you get to be the one to spoil her)

sarakobel : dont listen to neeks babe, we are so happy for you two!💓💓💓

tofff73 : so when do I get to teach her to skate @momma.yn @nicohischier

↪ nicohischier : not even in your dreams bud @tofff73 🙅🏻🙅🏻🙅🏻

ehaula : 👶🏻👶🏻👶🏻👶🏻👶🏻

bssmith2 : 🤰🏻🤰🏻🤰🏻🤰🏻

john.marino97 : 🫨🫨🫨🫨🫨

pally_18 : vítej mé dítě (welcome my child)

A. N :

was supposed to be w quinner but I feel like Nico deserves some love too, I hope that's ok!

howdy there, this is part request/part based on the lil thing I posted earlier because my irl daughter turns 4 in 4 days and I MISS HER BEING SO SMALL. SAY HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO JASMINE EVERYONE -_- I FINALLY GOT HER A LIL DEVILS AND CANUCKS JERSEY omg shes gonna be the biggest hughes supporter there ever was. no we dont live in Canada or New Jersey so we can't go to home games but best believe when the panthers play either team INITIATE HER FIRST HOME GAME IN SOMETHING OTHER THAN A TKACHUK JERSEY BITCHES.

speaking of I prob won't be active Sunday or Monday because she has requested a princess hockey theme and idk wtf that means. also bc my ex sperm donor doesnt help im doing it solo.

any who Im off to do bath time where yes we will be watching nhl edits on tick tock. ( I swear I dont force her she just has a good eye like her mommy)

*EVERYTHING WAS GOOGLE TRANSLATED SO IF YOU HAPPEN TO SPEAK CHEZCH OR GERMAN PLEASE DONT COME FOR ME IF THEY ARE WRONG*

XOXOXOXOXO, M

TAGS: @lukey-pookie-hughes43 and @skylershines

#new jersey devils #nhl hockey #hockey #nhl imagine #nhl players #nhl #nico hischier #baby Nico #nico hischier x reader #nico hischier x y/n #instagram edit #blurb #jack hughes #luke hughes #quinn hughes #timo meier #john marino #dawson mercer #njd

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revengeismygender · 1 year

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They really said “Oh, y’all agree cringe is dead? Oh, y’all like muppet logic?” And fucking ran with it.

Romance novel dream sequence that ends with a fart joke? That’s our opener. We need a distraction? How about The Swede gives Spanish Jackie a very sexual back massage. 15 references to soup? Not enough. Better make it 30. How should Ed look when he attempts to murder the entire crew? Cute lil up-do hairstyle. Pirate queen born 50 years after Blackbeard’s death? Yeah she’s here, don’t question it. Need to amputate a leg? Just chop it off with an ax. No need to bandage it. Gangrene isn’t real. Then make out over the bloody leg stump, obviously. What is this intense purgatory hallucination missing? A 3-minute bit where Ed role plays being an innkeeper with a figment of his imagination. Smashed a guy’s head in with a cannonball? Only leaves minor scratches and he can be resurrected through the power of love and Rhys Darby wearing a practical effects goldfish tail.

Please never let it stop.

#ofmd season 2 #ofmd #ofmd s2 spoilers

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jaskierx · 11 months

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so there's been a lot of posting about things like ofmd not being a 'kind show' and no longer being 'the queer joy show' etc etc and. i just want to remind us of where everybody is in s1's finale vs s2's

let us begin

stede: stede ends s1 on a hopeful note (setting off to go get his man) but shortly prior to that he's kind of been through it (he nearly got executed and then two different people tried to murder him). stede ends s2 on an even more hopeful note, having got his man, ready to open an inn with him. verdict: slightly better off at the end of s2

ed: ed ends s1 in absolute despair. izzy has been a real dick to ed (depending on your interpretation, he's done something ranging from being a little tiny bit mean to ed to calling him a slur and threatening to kill him, but we're not having this discourse again) so now he's back in his blackbeard persona mere days after feeling some hope that he was finally free from piracy and ready to run away with someone who loves him for who he is. the last shot we see of s1 ed is him absolutely crying his eyes out in the bed nook. it inflicts d4 psychic damage on me whenever i look at it. anyway at the end of s2 he's been on an absolute journey, he's learned that he's loved, he's free from being blackbeard, he's stood beside the man that loves him and they're going to give everything a go. verdict: significantly better off at the end of s2

stede's crew: i mean. what is there to say. at the end of s1 they've just been marooned and social order on their little island is rapidly breaking down due to buttons and roach teaming up to try and eat the swede. at the end of s2 they're happily back at sea and the swede has spanish jackie to fight off anyone who would even consider having a nibble. verdict: significantly better off at the end of s2

honourable mention - buttons: ends s1 unsuccessfully trying to eat the swede. ends s2 having fulfilled his life's dream of becoming a bird. good job buttons. verdict: slightly better off at the end of s2

ed's crew: as above, the crew end s2 happily sailing away into the literal sunset. we finish s1 with jim presumably unconscious and izzy pointing a gun at frenchie. so not an ideal situation really. fang seems to be having a good time though and ivan gets killed off between seasons (rip king) so it averages out at a slightly better rather than a significantly better. verdict: slightly better off at the end of s2

honourable mention - frenchie: ends s1 hoisting his flag at gunpoint. ends s2 captaining the bloody ship. go frenchie. we love to see it. verdict: significantly better off at the end of s2

lucius: ends s1 soggy. ends s2 not only dry, but married. verdict: significantly better off at the end of s2

izzy: ah yes this old chestnut. so. two perspectives here. one is simply that he ends s1 alive and ends s2 dead. so. possible verdict: significantly worse off at the end of s2. alternatively, he ends s1 as his classic repressed self, smiling from ear to ear because ed cut his toe off and it sparked joy, disliked by the crew, resented by ed. he ends s2 having accepted himself and having experienced all the queer joy he would never have permitted himself in s1, having experienced more screentime and growth than any other secondary character in s2 (yes he's a secondary character no i won't argue with you about this), and dies exactly as he lived - being a pirate who can pull off a plan. he gets to have his deathbed deep and meaningful conversation with ed, which brings closure to them both. he gets buried beside ed and stede's new inn, on land where his grave will be tended, having been given a nice funeral by people who once despised him. so. possible verdict: slightly better off at the end of s2. he definitely seemed happier in s2, and died at peace rather than as a frothing little ball of anger, which is more than i could've foreseen in s1.

anyway. the eagle eyed mathematicians among you will notice that even if we take it as read that izzy is significantly worse off at the end of s2...

every single other character ends s2 in a better place than where they ended s1.

ofmd is a kind show that's full to the brim of queer joy. you guys are just sad that your fave died. and that's fine. the writers did a great job creating a story with characters that were so well written that people are genuinely grieving izzy's death.

but his death does not erase the inherent kindness and joy of the rest of the show.

anyway thanks for reading. i had fun playing with the tumblr post editor settings. by which i mean changing the text colour was unreasonably difficult and now i am stressed

#ofmd #izzy hands #the izcourse #lyse.jpg

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bowieandqueen11 · 11 months

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Moonlight Dalliance / Izzy Hands Imagine

Request: I wrote this a couple of weeks ago but I think I might have accidentally deleted it off Tumblr because I can’t find it now! Hope you enjoy and I’ll have another request out asap! 😘

Warning: spicy, implied sexual content, sword fighting, mentions of blood and some strong language!

(I do not own OFMD or it’s characters, all rights go to creators. Gif credit goes to @goodsirs.)

☆.。.:・°☆.。.:・°

Before you had even reached the deck, you could hear the clashing of steel reverberating through your bunk.

If it hadn't been for the pouring of sawdust through the cracks in the ceiling beams that rained down like ash over your nostrils: if it hadn't been for the graceful leaps of careful footsteps lightly stepping in box squares above your hammock, you might have chalked down the noise to Roach's snoring. In fact, as you swing your legs over to your side and try, as quietly as possible, to land on the floor of the recreation room without waking as many as your ship mates as possible, said cook was trying to do his best impression of what could only be called a foghorn mixed with an incredibly rusty blender.

'For God's sake-!' The sound of Lucius' voice disturbing you as you were trying to tip toe towards the door almost makes you jump out of your skin. Unravelling Black Pete's arm from around his waist, he gives a final groan into the side of his pillow before throwing it in a wide arch straight at Roach's head. 'If you don't stop snoring I'll stick my wooden thumb, splinters and all, straight up your ar-.'

Thankfully, the sound of you wincing as you grab onto the handle and inch the hinges slowly backwards is drowned out by a stout HMPH as Lucius' pillow lands on Button's stomach. You can't help but let out a snicker at the way the man shoots straight up from his slumber like a scarecrow being raised in a field. He arches one eyebrow and glanced around intently. 'Attack, we're under attack!' You take the opportunity of your fellow crewmates either lunging out of their hammocks, or being tipped out onto the floor during the frantic hustle and bustle that followed to escape out to the helm of the ship. In fact, Wee John seemed to take far too much pleasure out of twirling the Swede's hammock so that the man ended up a mess of tangled limbs, yelping like a fly caught up in a spider's web as Oluwande tried to grab his arm and pull him back out. You didn't mind the good natured jostle of your friends: you had spent so much of the evening tossing and turning, unable to get the thought of one arrogant prick in particular out of your mind, and so the excuse to leave your bunk and get some fresh air was more than welcome.

The sea air - god, the sea air felt so kind on your tired lungs.

The night seemed fragile, the moonlight tender as it spilt over the creaking boards of the ship and pooled in a warm puddle around your feet. It seemed to widen within your eyes, a fine mist spraying like a wicked phantasm from its shadows and coating the surrounding sea in thin tendrils of smoke. With a mind hazed with tiredness, you rubbed at the corners of your eyes and tried to chase away that dream-like glow only the late night could bring. The sails caught in the mild wind and groaned above you, masking out the sounds of Izzy's short pants as he wiped his forehead with the untucked end of his shirt. In fact, not realising yet that you were standing only a mere few metres away from him, he grabbed his shoulder and tugged his shirt off completely, discarding it with a frustrated throw at Stede's cabin doors.

Two hands grip tighter on the wood, willing its body to relax. The tang of salt could do nothing to burn away the fizzling want banging against your ribcage, nor could the cool pinch of the helm railings distract you from the fact that you had spent every second of that day restless; as if on repeat, every time you closed your eyes, or had your thoughts distracted away from repairing the helm, or talking to Lucius, or exploring the islands Stede had insisted you all stop at so he could take Edward off on some grand adventure, you were taken back to that afternoon. The feel of Izzy Hands, the soft ache in his eyes, so desolate, so hopeful: when he had been congratulating you on a job well done fighting off some remote Englishman who had tried to ambush your crew once you had docked, and behind the thrum of his beating heart he hadn't the wit to stop his arm from reaching out and brushing the back of his knuckles against the droplets of blood splattered on your cheek.

His smile had dropped almost immediately of course, and he had run like a gun was being unloaded against his heels back into his quarters and hid there for the night, but the look in his eyes when he had touched you... god, if it wasn't enough to make Davy Jones repent his sins, for even his adoration for Calypso would seem like hatred in comparison.

Yet only the smoky gleam of the moon melting over the champagne waves kept your aching head company. The moon, being a sneaky temptress, was in fact the one thing that drew you to the cause of your distraction; squinting down onto the deck, it took you a minute to remember the reason you had come up here in the first place.

Izzy Hands. In the flesh. And lots of it, if the sweaty gleam of his bare chest was anything to go by.

It takes a moment for your mind to shape the shifting umbra into a perceptible form: he looks angry, furious, even, as his sword slices the misty air like swiss cheese and gives lashes to the main mast. The cherry wood cracks easily under the weight of his blows, the poor shaved shards that land by his feet obviously taking the brunt of the walloping you can only assume is meant for your captain.

Swallowing your nerves, you call out to the fickle shape. 'What are you doing wandering about at a time like this?'

He startles as you wander across the ship towards him, perching back against the side of the mast he was currently tearing to shreds. Incredulously, he looks you up and down before bowing his sword. Your laughter sweetens the edge of his blade, and for a moment Izzy's step falters at the sound.

‘I could ask you the very same thing. Don't you know that all the horrifying creatures slink out from the depths after the full moon rises.' He tilts his head at you, pushing his tongue up against his teeth to stop a smile from breaking like welcome dawn across his face. 'Would hate to see you get dragged away by something... wanton.'

You scratch your cheek, trying your best to hide how you were growing flustered at his words. 'Well, at least if I get dragged away I'll be going with clothes on.’

He flushed at that, head tilting down as he crossed his arms gruffly over his abdomen and blinked languidly.

'What are you actually still doing awake?', you ask, crossing your arms and doing your best not to fantasize about leaping forward and ripping the rest of his trousers straight off with one tear.

'I couldn't sleep.' What he didn't tell you, was that he couldn't sleep because he was so in love with you his heart felt like it was going to bleed out of his fucking chest any time he tried to distract himself from thoughts of you.

'Yeah, neither could I.' What you didn't tell him, was that you couldn't sleep because you were dreaming of grabbing Izzy by that scruffy collar and kissing him silly.

A tense silence suffocated the two of you, sliced only by Izzy shooting his sword through the air with one last precise carve through the freshly hollowed mast. Izzy whips out his wrist, clenching his fingers into a tight fist to try and alleviate some of the burning tension running through his joints at the desperation to touch you.

‘You did well today. As much as I hate to admit it, you can fight better than any of those other morons.’

‘A compliment? From Izzy Hands? Pinch me, I must still be dream-‘

‘Your footwork is a little rusty, though. Could use some work, so you don’t trip over and fall on your own bloody sword.’

‘There we go. There’s always a but with you, isn’t there? You can’t just give the compliment and leave it hanging.’

'I'm just saying... it would be a real shame to pierce such a breast.' Your breath hitches as his eyes dip down to contemplate the sliver of skin still on show between the free flowing buttons of your dress shirt. He sniffles, fingers almost indiscernibly tightening around the metal of the hilt as he did his best to stifle the overflowing shiver that was running up and down his legs. He keeps a tight watch on you for a moment, before biting his bottom lip with his top teeth and darting his eyes out towards the ocean, both incredibly aroused and also incredibly sheepish from having shown such weakness.

'And to ruin such a fine blade.'

He runs his hand across his beard, motion tired yet calculated. Too jolted to speak, let alone run away back down to your bunk and hide your head underneath Oluwande's arm for the rest of time, you leave Izzy the perfect opportunity to pounce.

’Here… come here’, his knuckles fold as he beckons you forward with one hand, his other still resting on the hilt of his rapier as he jabbed it into the floor and let it drop after a moment. If he had let it go just then, as he watched the swish of your hips approach him, he had a pretty good feeling his knees would buckle underneath him. ‘I have far more experience than you do. You ought to learn from a real pirate. Not the hoity toity arsehole that runs around this ship like a headless chicken.’

‘If I remember correctly’, you say sharply with a growing smile, ‘you lost against that headless chicken.’

‘Don’t.’ Before you have time to realise what’s happening, Izzy has grabbed you by the waist and rugged you back. He prays you didn’t hear the hoarse groan that jilted from the back of his throat as your buttocks bounced back against the tensed muscles of his lower abdomen. His voice is gruff and warm against the shell of your ear, but his fingertips burn with the ferociousness of a thousand lantern fires as he snakes his free hand around your shoulders and grips onto the bottom of your chin.

'Don't tease me. It won't end well for you.' His thumb digs into your jaw as he tilts your head back, and you can feel his smirk branding it’s way into the bare strip of skin between the nape or your neck and the hollow of your earlobe. Your head is fully resting back against his forehead now, and his vice on you only lessens once he’s content that you’re too far gone to step away from him.

'Put your foot... here', he guides your right foot forward with the toe of his boot, almost sinfully slowly so he could feel every twitch and tense of your quadriceps against the inside of his thigh. 'There you go, lean your weight forward-'.

He tips you then, doubling you over so your back is pushed down against his groin. You swear you can feel the curls of his hair fall in loose curls down against the small of your back, gathering that his head must be hovering just above your tailbone. For your own sake, to stop your legs from turning into jelly and letting your full weight fall so easily into Izzy's grip, you pretend the haunting moaning sound you hear must be from the hinges of the sails as they turn through the night sky.

'Perfect form', he breathes out in a short gasp against the shell of your ear once he's collected himself, his arm tightening around your stomach as he places you. His right hand drags down your arm, teasingly burning a trail right down over the back of your hand and onto your fingers as he entraps them with his own. He turns your hand, his own clenching so they fold over your own. 'That's it, now jut forward and strike.'

His knee pushes against the side of your buttocks as he jumps the two of you forward; he shoves a little too harshly, though, and just before your feet nearly trip backwards over the rotund exterior of a rogue barrel, Izzy's hand has shot out like a viper to latch its teeth around your wrist. His fingers squeeze as he tilts you upright again, a sharp exhale whistling out of his nose at how close you come to falling into his chest.

'You're not a bad teacher', you manage to laugh out between gasps, 'but unless you're packing... who doesn't bring a weapon to a sword fight?' Straddling to the side, you manage to slide down and grab onto his discarded sword, sweeping the tip through the air until it landed just below his chin. Tilting the skin up, you gaze down at him through dropped eyelids, his fingers now nearly convulsing against your wrist.

You manage to break free of his hold, grabbing onto his bare arm and pulling him so now he was the one caught in your trap. Your bicep holds around his stomach, moving with each tremble of his breath as you graze the sharp edge of his rapier down across his face and jut it under his jaw.

The bastard only smiles as you hold the edge of his blade against his throat.

'Did you really think you could win this fight?', he asks between the tight lips of a knowing smile, and it takes you a second to realise that his free hand has wrapped round to hold onto yours on top of the handle. He shoves the blade away, kicking out with his foot so you trip backwards. He easily catches you before you hit the ground.

You dance your fingers up his chest as he holds you tight against him, dipped down like lovers do during the first dance. All the stars burn deep within the depths of his soul, pouring out like razing destruction from his eyes as he keeps darting a path between your nose, and back down to your lips.

'I don't think you won this either, Izzy Hands. In fact, I think we both lost something here.' You spread your fingers out over the bare skin across his pec, feeling the flittering thud of his heart pound out against your fingertips.

By god, if he had ever been so delighted to lose.

His lips ravish you like a man shrivelled under the island sun, desperate to drown; before your gasp can fully deflate from your lungs, your legs have been kicked out from underneath you by a swift and skilled kick from the side of his boot.

Oh, he had been planning this for a long time. Had been thinking of nothing but this since he had boarded this vessel. The tightness of his arm as it snakes around your back and stops your shoulders from taking the brunt of the bounce off the boards: the way he throws his rapier behind his back without a second care, instead replacing his clenched fingers with the reddened meat of your hip as he levers you down was far too precise and meticulous to be a mere spur of the moment, subconscious thought.

An uncomfortable heat shivers over your torso and settles as an anchor weight in the pit of your stomach as Izzy grazes his right hand over the top of your thigh. Plop. Plop. Plop. His leather gloves ball as he taps his finger one by one, teasingly, against your inner thigh, using them to shove your legs wider apart. His lips pull away with a sickeningly sweet pop from your neck only for a second, as he breathlessly glances his eyes in a jagged path across your face.

He looks wonderstruck.

You can't help but reach out to touch the tough muscle of his left peck, swirling your finger across the short strands of his chest hair. The soft scrape of your fingernail soon turns into your fingers fully spreading out like the tendrils of a swift current once you feel him bury his head into the curve of your neck; his chin juts into your pulse point and the bastard has the audacity to whimper at the feel of your palm brushing over the hardened tip of his nipple.

If he wasn't living out all of his deepest, darkest dreams, the man nearly collapsed on top of you may have felt embarrassed at the way his pelvis began to buck down and brush the tightening leather over the rising line of skin underneath your belly button. In your turn to be bashful, you can feel a flush crawl over your cheeks as Izzy grabs onto the bottom of your thigh and tugs you closer, fist clenching over your ankle as he throws your right leg up and over the side of his hip bone. His hands are surprisingly soft, surprisingly gentle as he claws and kneads and mewls into you, his lips dragging down and over to the side of your jaw now with quick, tempered nicks.

You're scared his skin is going to melt off at the bone with how it burns against your hip: it holds tightly to the side of your pelvis, his thumb toying with the tassels hanging from the band of your trousers as he impetuously grinds down against you again. You can feel his shit eating smirk as the flat edge of his tongue licks a hot streak up to the shell of your ear; he bites down, tugging at your earlobe and clenching his fingernails so tightly into the soft skin at the side of your buttocks that you were amazed he didn't draw blood.

‘What on earth was that noise?! What’s going on up here! Which hooligan is up making a ruckus on my ship? And so late! I know you wanted another bedtime story, but I told you, we all need our beauty sleep!’

The glim flicker of a handheld candle illuminated out from the stairway as the ruffled hair of your captain peered out past the door like a startled meerkat. With wide eyes, he mustered the courage to lift up the skirts of his nightshirt and take a step out onto the deck, away from the safety of Ed's gentle snores as they billowed out through the crack.

Before your captain can spot the two of you caught in such an awkward position: Izzy grinding against you like a needy dog, your hand bunched into a tight fist in his hair and your legs wrapped tightly around his taut waist, he shoves a gloved finger to your lips. Annoyed at being disturbed, you tilt the hand gripping his hair backwards and smirk to yourself as Izzy dips his head down to land between your breast bone to try and hide his groans.

Before you can tease him anymore, he's gripped onto your wrist and is tugging you up; he's near carrying you bridle style in his arms as he slips past the railings of the ship, mingling in with the shadows. His hand covers your mouth to stop your giggles, carrying you off down to the bunk of his room so the two of you can carry on your midnight dalliance where your poor, confused captain wouldn't be able to hear the pounding of the bed as its frame shudders against the wall and your screams echo out against the silent moonlight.

#Ofmd #our flag means death #izzy hands #izzy hands imagine #Izzy hands x reader #Con o’neill #ofmd imagine #israel hands #Israel hands imagine #Israel hands x reader #Our flag means death imagine

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