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urdinosaurs · 9 months

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Hello, I love your hobie x reader where reader is giving a bj, can I have something similar but the reader can fully deep throat him and lick his balls at the same time 🤭 (it's my special move. 🥴) I just wanna know how he'll react, maybe he'll bust early 😝

╰┈➤ ❝ 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐏𝐏𝐄𝐑 ❞ | 𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍

PROMPT: going to hobie's shows is something you've done for as long as you can remeber. watching him perform on stage with his band never failed to render in a state of awe. only this time your boyfriend meets your heated gaze and decides to do something about it.

WARNINGS: nsfw 18+, exhibition, afab reader, canon divergence, no p in v, blow job, come eating, throat fucking, itty bitty degradation (slut, whore), the reader sucks him off in a dark corner, exhibitionist rockstar!hobie supremacy ♡, 1.6k wc

A/N: ahhhh ily *giggles cutely* this is such a slutty and silly idea fr!!! i tried to do my last fic from hobie's perspective, so now i'm doing it from the readers, so yay me!!!

out of all the ways the night could have ended, this wasn't totally out of the ordinary.

hobie played shows often with his band. who, in all honesty, were just a couple of kids who had the same political beliefs as him and translated them into music to play at any venue that would let them. not that there were many of them left anyways after having many instances of being "disruptive," causing property damage, a few cases of assault, although very justified, ended them up with quite a few permanent bans.

however, tonight was a good night for them: high energy from the audience, lively interactions, tips, and an atmosphere that could pump up your adrenaline until you were drunk on it. you're adrift in the crowd, hands in the air, and your voice lost in the sea of hundreds. you know the lyrics by heart, having heard hobie play these songs more times than you could count, you sing along, your head bumping to the beat. lights flash, and the rhythm vibrates in your chest. it felt good to let loose like this, dance with wreckless abandon in a scene of like-minded people.

through the dancing and singing, the moving bodies and screaming, your attention remains on hobie, in awe of him throughout the show and his expert fingers moving over the cords under the colorful lights blinking on stage. sweat drips off his face, gliding down his skin and trailing under his shirt, worn and ripped in places from so much use. you could never get over how gorgeous he looked in his element. entirely absorbed in the throws of music pulsing through his veins, the audience's energy pushes his body to perform to its absolute limits. fueled by the show's intensity, he takes its thrill like a drug.

it was as you were admiring him that he finally caught your gaze from the crowd. when your eyes meet, a smirk pulls at the corner of his lips, accentuating his pearly white canines, his studded tongue flicking over them sensationally as he finishes off the last couple of notes, the song ending in roaring applause. almost as if he could see right through you regarding him hungrily, he subtly adjusts his pants with his boney fingers decked in rings, and it's then you see his distressed jeans tent, begging for attention against strains against the fabric.

gawking, you blink at the bulge in his pants, and his eyes light up with barely contained mischief at your shocked expression. he grabs the water bottle next to the drums, the other members taking a water break as well, an unusual act for most performers, but then again, they weren't like most bands, as clearly shown by hobie's bold display of lust toward you.

he's told you before how much he loves watching you dance at his shows: your face lit up in excitement, and eyes that stare at him like he's someone to be admired. it's a rush, he told you once after a show, cornering you behind the stage so you could squeeze in a quick fuck before he had to meet the rest of his band. despite how his cock twitches in his pants when he watches you, hobie loves it- lives for your engagement that brings heat pulsing through his body like a live wire. so really, it should have been no surprise that he was sporting a hard-on halfway through his own show.

hobie's head tilts back, beads of condensation running across his skin and adam's apple as it bobs. observing him with bated breath, his focus stays on you while he caps the bottle, his band getting ready to play again, but not before he shoots you a wink, lips quirking into a smug smile.

under such a heaty gaze, glinting with the whisps of arousal starting to fill them, it shouldn't have been a surprise to you that you ended up on your knees in a shady corner of the venue, hobie's cock shoved halfway down your throat. he manhandles you in a way that's positively addicting, furiously bullying more of his dick down your crowded windpipe, a groan hitched in his.

"good girl, such a good girl f'me, taking what i give you– fuck," hobie hisses, his choker bobbing deliciously at the nape of his neck, constantly shifting over his sweaty skin from the throaty moans spilling out without respite. your jaw is sore from going down on him for so long that drool drips down your chin.

he graciously swipes away the spit with his hand, and instead of placing it back on your head, he brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking on your saliva. his eyes roll into his skull pleasurably at the taste. the moan of satisfaction he relinquishes is muffled, and you can't help but gape at him, stunned by how a simple action can make your core ache so badly.

at this point, all you crave is his release, so you can get yours. selfish, yes, but you're sure your panties are sticking to your skin, soaked in your juices, and the utter desire for something other than the heel of your foot rubbing against your clit is almost unbearable. you trace the veins of his cock with your tongue, fully committed to speeding up his building climax with your newfound goal in mind. the hitch in his throat is distinct, his fist tightening over your hair for leverage while his dick twitches.

"that's a girl. fuckin' minx with that mouth, yeah?" his breathing grows more labored, and the chatter filtering into the corner you've secluded yourself from the rest of the pub has become background noise.

"finna fill you up early if you don't slow down, baby." his head hits the wall behind him, hips bucking into your mouth, and your vision burns with unshed tears. "but that's what a slut like you wants, innit?"

you clench around nothing, whining into his cock as you double your efforts, fueled by his dirty words. he thrusts down your throat, your jaw stretching wide to take him as far as possible. he guides your head, using it to bring himself closer to the edge. his grunts are escaping them faster than he can think to muffle them.

each sensation is multiplied by the feel of his fat tip hitting the back of your throat repeatedly, and you fight the urge not to gag. he's becoming more desperate by the second to cum, and despite the rough force he's using to shove your head to the base of his shaft, he's unable to fall into the oblivion of his orgasm. you can tell he's struggling and growing frustrated by the pathetic whines replacing his grunts, and before you can think about your actions, your tongue extends and glides over his balls in one swift motion.

he moans loudly, his back arching and his breath stuttering in a scene you can only describe as pornographic. slurred cries serve as your only warning before his body convulses, and he's shoving your face into his pelvic bone, your nose smashing into his pubic hair. his legs shake just as hot spurts of cum rapidly fill your mouth. you desperately gulp down what you can, but it's more than you're used to, and it dribbles out of the corner of your mouth.

when he finishes and his hand loosens, you tear yourself off, coughing and straining to catch your breath. each scratchy inhale is a reminder of your raw and well-used throat and the pounding it took. you message it, moving your sore jaw around while hobie comes down, slumped against the wall. now that the high is wearing down, your knees throb. not too bad, thanks to hobie's jacket underneath them, but it's enough to where your body is going to hurt the next day. the rest of your legs are sticky from who knows what on the floor, and your shirt sticks to your body, your thighs uncomfortably wet from your neglected pussy.

but despite all that, you look up at him with that glazed expression you know he loves, and he meets it, brown eyes practically black with lust as they flicker over your features. a gentle hand caresses your face admirably, the callouses from the guitar creating a pleasant contrast against your smooth skin. you lean into his hand, longing for the reassurance only he can offer.

"missed a spot." hobie mumbles, thumb swiping at the corner of your mouth to catch the droplets of cum that had spilled. he brings his thumb to your lips, and instinctively they part, expecting him to push the digit in, but instead, he presses his finger to your lips. carefully he smears his cum across them in a mindful motion, like he was applying lip gloss, leaving a thin residue of his seed behind. hobie leans back to take a look, a satisfied chuckle vibrating through his chest. he pats your cheek, his pupils gleaming with amusement and a devilish smirk pulling his lip piercing taut.

i hate the beginning and i've tried to rewrite it a hundred times and it's still bad, but atleast the smut's decent. honestly im a little ashamed to post this. tumblr…please…for the love of god, don't flag this

"now you look like a proper whore, aye?"

TAGLIST: @alicefallsintotherabbithole

#🦕 ⊹ ࣪ ˖ 𝓁𝓎𝓁𝒶 𝓌𝓇𝒾𝓉𝑒𝓈 #hobie brown x reader #hobie brown smut #rockstar!hobie x reader #hobie brown #hobie brown atsv #hobie x reader #hobie brown x you #atsv hobie #hobie x you #hobie smut #hobie spiderverse #urdinosaurs spider verse

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steddielations · 11 months

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Famous Eddie who's not a rockstar, but instead an actor who's known for playing incredibly complex villains, or creepy weird little thriller roles.

He does method acting sometimes, he used to get a little carried away with it when he was younger, but he condemns people who just use it as an excuse to be an asshole. His ways of getting into character don’t disrupt anyone else, except maybe his family sometimes.

For instance, for the role of a horror novel writer who slowly goes insane living alone in his apartment, he spent 3 hours in a dark closet every day. But his daughter didn’t understand how that was Daddy’s “work” and she kept sliding cookies to him under the door.

Or the time he was playing the role of a sex addicted cowboy who owned a traveling rodeo where people mysteriously disappear, and his husband finally let him get that swing he’s been wanting for years and— whoops, maybe Eddie shouldn’t have said that on national TV.

All his media training is pretty much useless but that’s part of his intrigue. He is who he is. He only resurfaces every couple years to promote a movie and the public is always so shocked at the reminder that his husband looks like that. Eddie just loves it. Yeah, he takes pride in being the freaky little actor nerd walking the red carpet with a guy who looks like he’s the movie star of the relationship.

#actor eddie has been on my mind lately #steddie #my fics #steddie headcanons #eddie munson headcanons #rueswriting #steve harrington #eddie munson #famous eddie munson #actor eddie and teacher/coach steve yeah #mp

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bippiti · 2 months

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baby said

lando norris x rockstar! fem reader

wc 551

an my first time writing for f1! lmk if you have any suggestions and if you’d like a part 2

(not proofread)

it was hot. you could feel your skirt start to stick to your legs as you finally got up on the stage. your band had been invited to sing at an after party for the las vegas gp. to be honest, you didn’t really know much about formula one. neither did any of your bandmates, but a gig is a gig.

humming, you went through the set list one more time in your head. your manager had forwarded you the information a couple hours before. apparently one of the drivers was a fan of you guys and requested a song. you scanned over the room quickly, trying to gauge reactions to figure out who it could be, but you snapped out of it once you heard the “1, 2, 3..”

it had been going smoothly, people seemed to enjoy the music, and it wasn’t so loud as to disrupt conversation. soon enough, it was getting late and the last song of the set was creeping up.

you danced to the music before bringing the mic to your lips. as you sang you locked eyes with a man across the room. he had curly brown hair, and his face looked as if it had been sculpted by some greek god. you held eye contact for a bit, before smiling and looking away

“baby said ‘let me taste your silhouette you can talk between my legs’ ”

as the song ended, you thanked the few who had stopped in front of you to listen, and stepped off the stage. as you were planting your foot down your ankle gave out, just great everything goes smoothly and i end it by falling on my- before you can finish your train of thought, you’re face makes contact with something solid. it’s not the floor, no- it’s too warm for that. you hear a beat and a moment skips by before you jump back, apologizing profusely.

as you do you hear the man in front of you start to laugh. it’s nice, you look up to see the man that you had made eye contact with a bit earlier.

“ s’alright, don’t worry about it. i was coming over here to talk to you, actually. im a bit of a fan” he says sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck as he looks at you

a smile creeps on your face as it clicks

“so you were the one that requested baby said”

“what can i say it’s my favorite song” he says smiling and shrugging his shoulders

he has good taste. eyeing him up you look behind him to the bar.

“can i buy you a drink?”

#lando norris x reader #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #lando norris imagine #f1 one shot #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #lando norris #f1

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cacoetheswriting · 24 days

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celebrity skin. (part eight)

pairing: rockstar!eddie munson x popstar!fem!reader word count: 5.2k summary: a reconciliation in New York leads to a rediscovery of not-so-hidden feelings and answers to previously avoided questions — plus more.

content warnings: 18+, minors dni: suggestive & mature themes, adult language, post-breakup emotional hurt / comfort, use of pet names, mentions of alcohol consumption, mentions of blackmail, & kinda rough smut (unprotected p in v sex) — if i missed anything in this chapter, pls let me know!

& psa: images used in the header don’t depict readers physical attributes! these are also described vaguely in the story, only that she’s a little shorter than eddie.

celebrity skin. masterlist

One thing Eddie had been absolutely sure of: Stevie Nicks was right.

The trip to New York City was carried out solely on a whim. A gut feeling that the brunette rockstar could not quite shake. He had to see you, despite the possible consequences, and Eddie was smart enough to know there would be a lot. He acted like an ass and whether you would admit it or not, he knew he broke your heart.

Ever since his rise to fame, the Corroded Coffin frontman felt this bubble around him. A bubble created by his team, his band, his past, and his own disruptive behaviour — don’t do drugs was a warning he witnessed (and ignored) many times on posters too colourful for the subject matter, plastered on the walls of Hawkins High. Seemingly, the bubble protected Eddie from predators. Leeches that wanted to take advantage of his fame. Unfortunately, the bubble also shielded him from love.

Love.

If the rockstar wasn’t so afraid of the feeling as a result of that bubble, perhaps he would have made different choices in all of his past relationships. Most importantly, perhaps Eddie would have made different choices in the one relationship that’s meant more to him than any other. If he wasn’t so afraid of love, and being in love, perhaps he would’ve fought to be with you a little harder.

And love is definitely how Eddie would describe what he felt towards you. Correction. Feels towards you to this very day. Maybe more, if that was possible considering he hasn’t seen you in months.

So yes, Stevie Nicks was right. The concept of Silver Springs was right.

Seeing you again only affirmed that belief. Talking to you again, witnessing your smile for the first time in months… Well, Eddie never wanted to be apart from you for longer than he already had been. Unfortunately, that wasn’t up to him. Not for as long as your grandmother had her claw all up in your business and stuck her nose where it did not belong.

“So, what happens now?” The rockstar asks, only slightly afraid of the answer.

You hum under your breath, taking a moment to think, gathering your own thoughts. The sun is slowly rising in the distance, so the first response that comes to mind is that you should go home, and Eddie should go back to his hotel, Max’s place, or wherever the hell he’s been staying, before this place starts crawling with people. That would mean saying goodbye for lord knows how long and you were just starting to get comfortable with being around the rockstar again, although, not like that was insanely hard. Whatever. Simply, you didn’t want to say goodbye.

“We could go get breakfast,” you finally say.

Eddie smirks. “As much as like that idea, sweetheart, I didn’t really mean now in the full sense of the word.”

You laugh softly.

“Okay, hotshot.” Turning your head back to look at Eddie, you raise a brow. “What do you think should happen?”

The rockstar smacks his lips together before resting his elbow on one of his knees and bringing his thumb to his mouth. A nervous tick.

“Putting whatever reason I came here for aside, starting over seems like a bad idea since we’ve done that once before and it didn’t really end the way either of us hoped,” he says after a beat of silence, avoiding your gaze.

“Yeah,” you exhale, “Bad idea. Plus you said so yourself, you’re not the relationship type. Getting back together would be redundant.”

“Right,” Eddie agrees quietly, although he really doesn’t want to.

There’s another moment of silence. Nothing but the sound of morning birds chirping melodically and wind gust hitting the water ahead. In the quiet, there is solace. In the quiet, Eddie doesn't have to answer difficult questions or have conversations neither of you really wants to have. A blissful ignorance of what’s really happening here.

He still loves you. You most likely still love him.

It’s all just terrible timing for two people who are — in his mind, at least — made for eachother, but for one reason or the other, can’t be together. Not in this lifetime. Not with people controlling what they can or cannot do. Not with the whole world watching their every move. It hurt. Hurt that a life you both chose was also the life that’s actively destroying something good.

“We could try being friends?” Eddie offers eventually, looking at you then.

You smile. “Friends. I think I like that.”

Holly is the only person you’re fully comfortable talking to about all of this. She listens, actively nodding along as you spew your thoughts and feelings out loud, until the rambles become too hard to follow. Holly, ever the best friend that she’s always been, places her perfectly manicured hands on your shoulders and gives your body one shake to get you back on track when the story becomes a little too convoluted. And this one is all over the place.

There’s the run in at Saks, the meeting with Max, the plan, the date with Steve, all that leads to Eddie Munson banging on your front door until you let him inside. There’s the emotionally heightened conversation that doesn’t really amount to much. The dinner with your family that opened things up to questions from your nosh sisters and scrutiny from your Nana. Then there was Coney Island.

You pause.

It’s messy, for sure, and your feelings are all over the place as you recount each and every minor detail, which leads you to why you invited her over in the first place: what the fuck do you do about Eddie Munson?

Holly usually gives you advice. Parts of which you want to hear and take on board, parts of which you both know will be ignored. This time however, as you do your best to explain what’s been on your mind — and heart — since the rockstar arrived in New York, this time Holly doesn’t know what to say.

“I don’t know if I should forgive him.”

“Jeff says he’s been, like, super sullen all summer long. Locked in that house of his, or at the studio, working on shit he won’t let the band see.”

“That’s supposed to make it easier for me to do what, exactly? He’s secretive, that’s for sure. Hiding stuff from his band, from his sister, from me…”

You reach for the packet of smokes that Holly brought with her and light one, hand shaking ever so slightly.

“I got virtually nothing from him that night in my apartment. Slightly more under the Wonder Wheel, but still not enough to understand why he did what he did,” you exhale a puff of smoke, “Yet I can’t help but think that despite everything, especially ignoring the weeks I spent in bed because of him, we’re like meant for each other, you know?”

Holly too lights a cigarette. She also doesn’t answer you.

“That’s kinda pathetic, no?”

“I think until you get the entire truth, it won’t matter whether you get back with him or just be his friend, or whatever, ‘cause you’re not going to be fully happy. Not really,” she explains, avoiding your question because there’s close to nothing worse than admitting to your friend that they’ve lost it completely.

“So I should confront him?”

“Jeff says Eddie doesn’t do well with confrontations.”

You groan. Head falling back on the cushioned sofa.

“Maybe I should just fuck him,” you think out loud, “Get all this frustration out and then just move on with my life.”

Holly laughs. “Just don’t let him finish,” she says, “Karma’s a bitch, and whatnot.”

New York City is your favourite place on Earth.

Despite your years of extensive travel to tour your various albums or attend different global award shows, New York, your home, has always been top of the list. Elegant, albeit slightly messy. Organised, although a little rowdy. It’s colourful, but dull. Full of people from every corner of the world, which only added to its pre-existing charm. You didn’t really think it was possible to fall in love with it even more until you’ve started to explore it all over again with none other than Eddie Munson — under a new guise of something called friendship.

The rockstar decided to extend his trip. Currently, there is no return date. Exploring New York became the only thing on his agenda.

The two of you did your best to stay under the radar, away from prying eyes. Although, not like it was necessarily needed as Eddie’s idea of sight seeing involved bar hopping. Old-ish, rather shitty places that have definitely seen better days, but Eddie, he was like a kid in a candy store. With every beer poured and every bowl of peanuts shared, he lit up more and more.

“They remind me of home,” he finally explains, two days into your NYC adventure. “Of Hawkins.”

You smile at him, but don’t say anything.

“What?” Eddie asks when he notices the look, mouth now full after taking another handful of the perhaps hundredth packet of peanuts the two of you have shared over the last few days.

“I don’t know,” you shrug, swirling the gold-ish liquid inside your beer bottle, “I guess it’s just nice that some small part of my home reminds you of your home.”

Eddie returns the fond expression. Friends is good, he thinks at that moment while catching another peanut with his mouth, not ideal, but good.

“There was this bar,” he says, leaning across the table so that he could be a little closer to you, “The Hideout. Our first venue, outside of Gareth’s garage, and the only place in my crappy hometown where I didn’t feel like an outsider.”

“Places like the Hideout, places like this.” Eddie swirls his finger in the air to show he means your current location, “They’ll always have a special place in my heart, I guess. They’re a part of me. Part of Corroded Coffin history.”

He stares at you for a minute. He’d never share this much with a friend, so perhaps this new concept you’ve both found yourselves in is not as good as the rockstar would like to think. “We could try being friends?” — Eddie’s second guessing his suggestion just as fast as he came up with it.

“We should see more of your home,” he finally states, “As much as I love them, I think we’ve seen all the dingy bars New York has to offer, so I’m open to suggestions.”

You bring the beer bottle to your lips and take a slow sip of the now semi-warm liquid, pondering his request.

Where could you take Eddie that would represent your love for New York. The Statue of Liberty seems a little basic, as does Times Square — especially since you’ve both performed there in the past. Rockefeller Centre to see the street performers? The Met, even though both of you will most likely be invited next year to the exhibit. In reality, all of the touristy spots like Central Park, for example, would be a little too crowded for either of you to feel safe and remain unseen.

Then your eyes glisten with an idea.

What’s more homey than a home itself: Cove City Sound Studios.

To any average person, it was just another recording studio found in New York. One of hundreds. To you however, it was heaven on earth.

Located in Glen Cove, New York, Cove City Sound Studios had been home to many artists before you came along. A lot of albums were recorded here. A lot of number one hits — the list of which you were lucky to join more than once.

You always thought the ambiance of this place fueled your creativity. Often said the reason behind your resounding success was because you got the opportunity to record here. Of course Holly, Val, and especially your Nana, corrected you every time those words had left your lips. “You’re the reason behind your success,” your Nana would affirm, “Not some recording studio.”.

But you knew. Felt it deep within your bones. Cove City Sound Studios was magic.

“Damn,” Eddie mutters under his breath, fingers gently running across the various buttons as his doe-eyes dart across the posters on the wall — one of which features your 1985 album cover (a record once hidden under Eddie’s bed back in Hawkins).

“Here I thought the place we recorded Honesty in was impressive,” he admits, “This though, this is another level.”

A smile circles your lips.

“Welcome to my home, Eddie Munson.”

The rockstar dips his head, sort of in a way of a little bow, and smiles so wide it makes your insides flutter. Friends, friends, friends. You repeat inside your mind, same thing Eddie is doing, although neither of you are aware. Friends hiding their true feelings.

“I’m honoured, sweetheart.” Eddie adds, placing a ring-clad hand on his heart.

“As you should be,” you tease and walk past him, pushing open a door into the vocal booth.

The Corroded Coffin frontman follows you with zero to no hesitation. He watches as you slowly circle the small room before standing in front of a microphone, adjusting it to your height.

“I recorded every single one of my songs here apart from Honesty,” you reveal without looking at him. Focusing instead on tightening the metal rod in place. “Hundreds of records that will probably never see the light of day because my label doesn’t think they are good enough.”

Eddie snorts. “As if you could make something that wasn’t deemed good. We wrote shit together, remember? I know how good you are.”

Your lips twist into a timid smile and glance up at him from your lashes. “I appreciate that Eds, but unfortunately the industry doesn’t work that way and you, of all people, should understand.”

“Well, yeah, but doesn’t your grandmother have some sort of special power to get you whatever the fuck you want.”

It’s your turn to snort. “She may be resourceful, but she’s got no control over my management team. Even if she likes to think she does, the only real ability my Nana possesses is tell me what to wear and how to act.”

Eddie nods, taking note of this information. Knowledge he can use to free himself from deceit, blackmail.

Valuable insight into the evil woman that ruined his life since, as you’ve now so beautifully explained, she’s not nearly as formidable as she presented herself to be. A light at the end of the tunnel.

“Perhaps that’s why I can’t bring myself to listen to it,” you say, breaking Eddie away from his thoughts.

“What?”

“Perhaps that’s why I can’t bring myself to listen to Honesty. Because I didn’t record it here.” Nothing to do with the fact that it’s soiled by the memory of the last morning we saw each other, you think, clearly lying to yourself, and him.

Eddie swallows his breath. A twinge of guilt rushes through him. Actually, more than a twinge. A gush, like a waterfall out of control. He’s sure of it now. The two of you could never be just friends. Not until you knew the whole truth about why he did what he did and now that he knew your grandmother had a weakness in her armour, perhaps offering you the truth is something he could do sooner rather than later.

“Then maybe we should change that,” Eddie offers and proceeds to quickly shuffle out of the room, leaving you alone for a second.

You watch through the glass separating the two spaces as he scans the buttons, hands on his hips, tip of his tongue out to indicate he’s thinking. He looks cute and you fail to conceal a smile, so you opt to hang your head and stare at your shoes because you can’t afford to think he’s any sort of desirable. Just friends.

After taking a moment to familiarise himself with a new system, Eddie finds what he’s looking for and switches it on, before hurrying back to stand next to you.

“Ready?”

“Ready,” you affirm while putting a pair of headphones on.

For the next four minutes and twenty-two seconds, you get lost in the chocolate of Eddie’s eyes as you once again sing the song he wrote about you.

“Honestly, you got me fallin’ to my knees

It’s like ecstasy, this feelin’ inside of me

Let’s call it honesty”

Cove City Sound Studios creates magic. You’ve always believed it and now it’s only been affirmed because the way your voice melts with his — no band, no distractions — is nothing short of perfection.

“You’re a devil in disguise

No, that’s what I want you to be

‘Cause in reality, hon’, you’re a hypnotic dream

An angel for sure

To a non-believer like me

Oh honesty, what have you done to me, honestly”

That’s why the song was a hit in the first place. Now you understand why your management team pushed you to do this collaboration in the first place. Magic. And as Eddie draws the last syllable without breaking eye contact, you’re transported back to the night you met. The night that inspired this song.

The night that started all of this.

His mind wanders to the same moment, same place, same spot. Friendship is a word that no longer makes sense, but the rockstar doesn’t want to ruin anything (again), so he drops the headphones and exits the booth without saying anything.

You follow him with your gaze. A feeling of longing spreads through you faster than you know what to do with it. It’s unfortunately accompanied by fear because you’re not stupid, far from it. Eddie’s hurt you twice before. Going back in only to get burned a third time would be a grave mistake and you know better than to go down that road again. ‘Cause you do know better, right?

Then this morning’s conversation with Holly enters your mind. Your best friend was right. You could never be happy around him if you didn’t know the truth.

“Eddie, can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Do you think if you didn’t end things when you did, we’d still be together? Or do you think we were doomed regardless?”

He takes a moment to answer. Avoiding looking up through the glass to meet your curious gaze, anxious for an answer.

“I already told you.” His deep voice eventually booms through the speakers. “I’m not the relationship type.”

“Bullshit,” you’re quick to state. It comes out harsher than intended.

“Sweetheart—” He’s shaking his head, still without looking at you.

“No, don’t you fucking dare,” you interrupt, suddenly feeling deflated by this whole situation, defeated in the fight against your feelings towards him. “Like I said before, you don’t get to sweetheart me and give me some bullshit vague answer.”

Eddie’s eyes are now closed. He’s hoping if he shows how he wants no part of this conversation — not right now, not before he gets to speak to your management and then offers you up the truth — that you will let it go. Like you did that night in Coney Island and those last few days too. You seemingly let it go and everything was okay. Fucking friends.

“I gave in too quickly. Into your presence. I missed you so much that when you showed up at my door, it didn’t matter how angry or heartbroken I was. All that mattered was seeing you again and being around you again. But I should’ve stood my ground.”

You’re now standing right in front of the glass window. Arms hanging by your side, nails digging into your palms to pump the adrenaline that’s fueling this fight.

“No matter how many times you tell me that you’re not the relationship type, I won’t believe you. I refuse to believe you because that guy I met in an empty kitchen of a Hidden Hills mansion was looking for something more than a random hook up. He may not have said it, but he proved it with his actions,” you continue your reasonings, “He craved something meaningful. I saw it in the way he smiled every time his eyes met mine, and sensed it in the way he held me close.”

Then you exhale.

“That guy, although hiding behind a mask of an arrogant dickhead, he wanted to be loved and Jesus Christ did I—”

Eddie’s gaze snaps to you then, widening.

“But if I got it all wrong,” you continue after a few seconds, “If I misunderstood that guy and what he really wanted, then all I need is for him to be straight with me,” you conclude, “No bullshit excuses, Eddie. If you simply didn’t like me, if you simply didn’t care, just say that and we can both carry on with our lives as if nothing ever happened.”

The door slams. Eddie stands in front of you in a flash, brown eyes holding onto yours with force. He’s agitated. He runs a hand down his face before reaching for your shoulders, then dropping his arms back by his side just as fast.

“I cared, of course I cared!” He exhales to compose himself before continuing, “I still care.” It’s barely a whisper.

“Then why?”

“I-I… Well, I just…”

His mind is racing to find the right answer. The truth is what you’re after, unfortunately that’s the one thing he can’t give you yet. Not if he wants to continue witnessing your success. Because, at the end of the day, his own fame and fortune is no longer important. He could care less if it burned to the ground. Your fame however, your fortune, that’s not something Eddie’s willing to gamble. So again, until he can speak to your management, get ahead of your grandmother’s scheming, the truth will remain sealed.

At least some part of it.

“There was this girl. Back home.” Eddie begins, voice shaky, “Before you, she was the only girl that ever saw me for who I really was.”

“Chrissy Cunningham,” you say her name.

Eddie nods.

“Yeah, Chrissy,” he repeats the name. It tastes a little foreign on his tongue after all this time. “Seemingly the classic cheerleader type, you know? Blonde, preppy, always fucking smiling. But Chrissy, she uh… she was far from just a cheerleader. Like me, she was a little misunderstood and that’s what initially brought us together.”

“What happened to her?” You ask. “You keep saying ‘was’. Chrissy was, as if she’s no longer—”

“Look, sweetheart,” Eddie interrupts, “I-I don’t really talk about her. I don’t like to. Too many bad memories.”

“Right,” you murmur, nodding slowly.

“Long story short, I cared for her and it didn’t end well, so when my care for you started to surpass that feeling… I just got scared.”

“Then why not tell me about her in the first place?” You query, “We could’ve talked it out. Pumped the brakes on whatever our relationship was starting to become.”

Eddie doesn’t mean to, but he scoffs. “And then what, huh? Just tip-toe around how we’re actually feeling until that builds resentment? Then it just ends anyway, but it hurts a lot more, no?”

He’s running a hand through his wild locks. Frustrated wouldn’t be the right word. Annoyed feels borderline the same. Angry, yes, but not at you. Angry at the world for introducing such a perfect character into his otherwise shitty life because he’d be better off without you. No. You’d be better off without him? Also no. Jesus Christ, he’s fucking confused.

“That’s what you asked. If I didn’t end things, would we still be together. The truth is, sweetheart, I don’t know because I attract bad shit and people get hurt and… And I need you to be happy, with or without me.”

Silence falls upon the two of you. It’s heavy with the half-truths that were just revealed. Heavy with the underlying tones that are telling you Eddie still cares, and telling him that so do you — more than either of you were willing to admit back then, and even less now.

And there’s definitely feelings there. They bubbled up the second you laid your eyes on him again and as your few days together passed without a major blowout, they only grew stronger — something you explained to Holly, who said that Eddie was so unlike you, it only made sense to feel something towards him. Love him, even.

Perhaps the hurt was worth it.

“Oh, fuck.”

“What?” Eddie’s brows string together as you momentarily glance at your feet before settling your gaze back on the rockstar.

“Guess we were never supposed to do this right.”

“What?” Eddie asks again.

“You said that to me. Back in LA after that picture of us was leaked to the press, remember?”

“Vaguely,” he answers.

“What if you were right?” You ask, tone a little quieter than seconds prior.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’m not sure I’m following.”

Decided on your next move, in what you want to happen, you take a step towards the Corroded Coffin frontman so that the tips of your heels are touching his loosely tied Converse. You then place a hand on his chest, albeit hesitantly, and Eddie inhales a sharp breath (loud enough for you to hear).

“What if all of this, everything that happened between us, is because we were never meant to do this right in the first place, Eds?”

A timid smile circles your lips as the question you asked settles in the air. Loaded full of uncertainty for the future and everything that time ahead holds for the two of you. Your Nana would say that a person of your stature shouldn’t give into uncertainty, something that in Eddie’s case was often repeated by Marianne. Everything is always meticulously planned. No room for error because uncertainty leads to mistakes and those are a nightmare for your respective PR teams. Unfortunately for those teams, uncertainty is what drew you to each other in the first place.

That, and insane fucking attraction.

“I did come here because I regret my decision,” he says while you say, “I miss you.” Both come out at the same time. Mumbled, jumbled together. It registers though.

Without giving it a second thought, Eddie dips his head lower while his hands reach for your face, ring-clad fingers now holding your cheeks. In that same breath, his lips crash against yours in a yearning kiss — one that is fuelled by months of pent up tension and a desire you both shared since your first meeting back in August of ‘92.

It's a dance of fire. One that is burning bigger and brighter with every second his mouth is attached to yours. Dangerous, would be a good word to describe this moment, but the line has been crossed yet again and since there’s definitely no going back now, your fingers tangle themselves in his brown locks as you push your body closer. Eddie also gets braver. He bites down on your bottom lip and when you gasp ever so softly, the rockstar slides his tongue in with ease.

You feel elated. This is exactly what you’ve been missing and by the way Eddie’s tongue twirls within your mouth, hands squishing your face, afraid to let go, you know it’s what he’s been missing too.

It’s destructive, for sure. But the hurt is worth it. You know that now. You feel it. Every single fibre of your being grows more and more alive as Eddie presses into you further, as he caresses your skin with so much tenderness. And you’re beyond cloud nine. Beyond touching heaven. It’s destructive, but it’s bliss.

“If we keep kissing like this,” he whispers against your lips, forehead pressing against yours, “I’m afraid I won’t be able to contain myself.”

“Who says you have to?”

Eddie groans against your jawline before continuing to trail soft pecks along your skin until he reaches your ear, biting it gently.

“We should probably talk about what this means,” he says, but you just shake your head. “‘Cause friends don’t kiss like that, sweetheart.”

“I don’t care about that now, Eds.” You affirm, sure of what you want. Sure that you don’t ever want to forget him or move on. He is a part of you, forever. “I just want you.”

And with that your lips finds his again.

The kiss is feverish, messy. You’re tugging at each other’s clothes, desperately trying to get them out of the way as fast as possible. In an attempt to be even closer, propelled by an indescribable urge, Eddie shifts your positions so that his back is the one to the room, you’re by the wall, and mere seconds later, your back is pressed firmly against his chest.

His strong hands send shivers through your body as they make their way down until they reach your panties, skirt long disregarded, a garment on the floor. He no longer hesitates about what this means, ripping the material down before his feet are kicking your legs apart. Ring-clad fingers slide along the curve of your ass, kneading the flesh, desperate to feel you. All of you. And as one hand works to unzip his pants, the other works its way to your wet entrance, feeling along your slit.

“Please, please…” The excitement causes you to grow warm and moist in his hand.

He can’t contain himself. Removing his hand in a rapid manner, he pushes his cock inside of your starved pussy. You close your eyes at the contact and Eddie begins to fuck you, hard. Rhythm picks up rapidly and you’re clenching around him in a matter of minutes, lower muscles seizing at the contact they’ve long forgotten, but were now more than pleasantly reminded of.

“God,” he groans, “I fucking missed you.”

The moan that escapes your lips is nothing short of pornographic. It’s a direct response to his words, as well as his actions. He’s pounding into you relentlessly. There’s no time for pleasantries or any sort of softness. This is all about fulfilling a need-based desire and you’re more than willing to comply, high on his voice when he praises “Fuck, baby”, and “You’re doing so good for me, pretty girl.”

When you feel his hands grip your hips, you moan his name. Loud, pathetic. Undone. The rockstar begins to bounce you against him. Your knees weaken and you fall back onto him, head now resting on his shoulder, losing yourself completely in the moment and the pure ecstasy that you’re feeling. The pleasure is almost too much for you.

“Eddie, I’m so close,” you whisper, looking up at him through your lashes.

The Corroded Coffin frontman captures your mouth with his. Short, but far from sweet is the kiss. Hungry and devilish. He bites your bottom lip as he pulls away, drawing just a prick of blood.

“Let go for me, baby.”

When you do, obeying his request, your whole body shivers harshly in his embrace. Eddie keeps going, only his pace has slowed. He’s whispering sweet-nothings into your ear, continuously praising you for being his good girl, and you promise yourself that no matter what happens next, you’re going to be that forever.

The high soon ends and Eddie pushes you forward gently. You then feel the rockstar’s cock leave you, warm cum spurting over your ass without warning. You’re delighting in the feeling of his juices on your skin. He delights in it too, trailing his fingers over your rear until you turn around to face him.

There’s a smile on your face. Devious, yet benevolent.

Yes, Eddie thinks, Stevie Nicks was definitely right. ‘You'll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you.’ Not like he’d ever want to anyway.

thank you for reading! really appreciate the endless & continuous support!

celebrity skin. masterlist

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

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader #celebrity skin.#rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie x reader #rockstar!eddie smut

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rosewaterandivy · 5 months

Text

got lovesick all over my bed

Summary: it might be worth it for once.

Warnings: facetime shenanigans, rockstar!gf had one too many glasses of merlot, my usual brand of filth™️

a/n: be a slut, do whatever you want!

🎶 everyone wants him, that was my crime, the wrong place at the right time 🎶

It was stupid.

Borne of desperation and one too many glasses of red wine, and it seemed like a good idea at the time.

Steve was off filming for the next few weeks and you were back in an empty house in Laurel Canyon. You tried, unsuccessfully, to not be a bitter Betty about it all; oh, woe is me! My incredibly talented boyfriend has to go back to work.

Were you even his girlfriend?

Jesus Christ.

It’s been what, less than two weeks and you’re already spiralling.

Shuffling from the couch you pocket your phone and try to ignore the desire to double-text.

Hey

Could you be any more pathetic? Hadn’t even “defined the relationship,” whatever that meant, and already slipping. You know he’s busy, on-set, and suffering through night shoots in the desert somewhere.

Leaning against the island of your kitchen, you uncork some wine and pour it into a glass. Watching as the crimson liquid sloshes against the curved glass, you idly wonder if you should seal the deal and live your best Olivia Pope fantasy by having popcorn for dinner.

Before you could think better of it, you felt the subtle vibration of your phone in your pocket,

S.H.: Hey yourself

wow, so clever

wow, so bratty

You bit your lip and took a sip of wine in an attempt to quell the low swoop of your stomach.

The texts were intermittent for the next hour or so before he was called back to set. It was a nice distraction from the utter lack of plans you had for the evening. Your producer had sent over the final mix of your new album that you needed to proof and sign off on, so that was the plan while Steve was off filming for the next few hours.

He’d asked if he could call you later, once filming wrapped for the evening and you’d agreed not realizing that it would be nearing 2 a.m. and you’d be half a bottle in.

Settled back in your bedroom freshly showered and laptop atop the duvet cover, you’re only briefly startled when the FaceTime ring trills out.

“Shit!”

You quickly pause the song you were listening through and hope you look halfway decent before answering Steve’s call. Mussing your hair, you minimize the image of yourself and enlarge the one of him.

“Hey sweetheart.”

Steve smiles slow and sweet, huffing a laugh at your poor attempts at primping.

“Stop messing with your hair, you look great.”

“Uh huh,” you brush off with a smirk, “Watch me make red wine drunk the next trendy TikTok look.”

He looks to be back at the Palm Springs house, settled against the headboard of the bed that you swore was going to fall off the wall from the sheer amount of times he’d fucked you into the mattress the last time you visited.

Your skin warms at the thought.

“Can’t wait.” He smiles and takes a screenshot as you flip him off, he’s always doing shit like that— his iPhone or one of his many film cameras or, your least favorite, FaceTime. Says he has to have up-to-date photos of you for the Missing Person posters he'll make once the coyotes finally get you out in the Canyon.

What a dork.

“How was your day?”

“Oh fine,” you say with a sigh. “Did a whole bunch of nothing, showered, I was proofing the final tracks for the album and then you called.”

“Oh,” he pulls a face, grimacing because he thinks he’s disrupted you at work, “I can fuck off if you—”

“Harrington, if you finish that sentence I swear to god—”

“Fine, fine,” he relents with a chuckle and runs a hand through his hair, knocking the glasses off of his head. “So that’s where these went.”

You roll your eyes, this man, honestly.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, just tired is all.” He heaves a sigh. “These night shoots are the fucking worst.”

You hum, “I can imagine. The cold desert at night?” You blow a raspberry, “And you’re worried about coyotes carrying me off?”

“I have a vested interest in your safety, y’know.”

“Oh, I’m well aware.” You tease, taking another sip of wine. “I got thick thighs and a fat ass, and the only person I want to eat me is you.”

“Aww, I’m touched.” Steve laughs, hand to his heart. “Look at you, gettin’ all sappy and borderline cannibalistic over FaceTime.”

“I know,” you demure and bat your lashes. “I’m so emotionally mature.” Setting the glass on the nightstand, you lean forward inadvertently giving him a generous view of your tits.

“Anyway,” you sit back against the pillows of your bed. “What’re you wearing, honey?”

It’s like his brain glitches for a moment or two, and he needs to reboot.

“Uh,” he glances down with a furrowed brow. “Boxer briefs.”

“Thrilling.”

Could it be that Steve’s never done something like this before? It hadn’t been exactly discussed between you, but he was looking so delectable and you missed him so much.

Fuck it.

“What about you?”

A slow smile splits your face, a waggle of your brows. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Instead of a verbal reply, you pan the camera down to display your latest lingerie acquisition— pale pink and adorned with tasteful floral embroidery, because Steve is a sucker like that. You can hear him swallow and his shallow breaths from the speakers.

“D’ya like it?”

“Fuck.”

There was a rustling sound as he settled more comfortably on the bed. The room lights were dimmed casting shadows across his bronzed skin, an errant lock of hair falling in his face. His voice was so low when it came through the speakers that it sent heat straight to the pit on your stomach, “Wish you were here.”

“Me too baby,” you purr and set the macbook further down on your bed. “Tell you what,” you say taking a final sip of wine, “Why don’t you go ahead and record this for those lonely desert nights, hmm?”

His eyes nearly fall out of his skull. “Y’sure?”

“Course I am handsome.”

He was leaned over in front of the camera, undoubtedly attempting to prop it up on something and hit record.

“Gonna be good for me?” you rasp when he comes back into view, “Let me take my time with you?”

Steve nods, eyes finding yours as his breaths even out. You watched him hook his thumbs into the band of the boxer briefs and drag them down his toned thighs on screen. His hard length sprung to his stomach once the waistband passed his tip, hard and thick where it lay. You licked your lips.

He took himself slow, his fist tight at his tip as he slid down his length at an excruciating pace. That was how he usually slid into you, savoring that first push as you surround his cock in your warmth.

Your core fluttered in time with the stroke of his palm, slow and deep passes up and down his length that would no doubt feel like ecstasy inside you.

“Feel good baby?”

You own hand skates down your torso, lingering here and there before ever so gently brushing against your clit.

“Thinkin’ about my pretty mouth wrapped around your cock?”

He let out a moan, eyes rolling back at a particularly good stroke.

Fingers stuttering over your clothed clit, your free hand snakes behind you to unclasp the bra and let it fall down your arms.

You watched as he fell back fully on the bed, his hand picking up pace as the other reached down to cup his balls. A choked moan came from the screen followed by even more hushed words.

“Miss you daddy,” you whine. “Want your big cock fucking my mouth n’ gettin’ me all messy.”

Barely able to swallow around your dry mouth, you watched him lift his head and watched his hand stroke his length. Steve’s face was obscene; eyebrows furrowed deeply and mouth hanging open in pleasure.

You were overstimulated if anything, never imagining you would have such a visual of him getting off while you were beyond wet, almost uncomfortably so. Your clit pulsed as you caught on screen Steve moan a choked fuck as he writhed on his borrowed bed.

Fingers pressing headily against your clit, you rubbed tight circles around the slick bud at the sight on the screen. Couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this wet for long-distance sex, no matter the hour. Dipping your fingers beneath the lace of your underwear, the slick of your slit wetting your fingertips.

A small whimper left your lips as the contact, wishing that they were Steve’s fingers slipping through your folds instead.

“Fuck, I’m so wet for you.”

He cursed deeply as he slowed his pace, mostly likely trying to hold out from coming too soon. Everything made it hard for you to articulate what you wanted at that moment.

On screen Steve brought you back, his head tilted back as he pumped his length beautifully. You could see his stomach tensing. You could see the tops of his thighs jumping before they disappeared from the camera’s view where they hung off the edge of the bed. You could see his jaw clench every time his tight fist circled his tip. The sound of him spit slick and stroking himself was so lewd paired with his pants and moans.

While you were enamored with the screen, the fingers of your free hand brushed your nipples. You couldn’t stop your gasp if you wanted to. Every touch had your cunt clenching and begging for attention.

You could tell he was close, and kept teasing your skin but refrained from dipping a finger into your slit. Your breathing was labored, soft whines elicited from the back of your throat as on screen Steve moaned your name.

“So pretty daddy, wanna see you come so bad.”

He was breathless at hearing your words, the low rasp of your voice filtering through the speakers. Fuck, does he miss you.

You sigh again, whimper like a little punctuation, sheets rustling. “Thinkin’ bout your tongue and how wet you make me,” and your voice is so low, so needy, “I wish you were here. Touching me all over.” And the picture in his mind of you, so pretty and open, wild at the mere memory of him—

“Keep going. Think about me riding you, baby. Slow at first, how you like, taking you a little bit at a time. You’re always so hard.”

There it is, egging his own fist on to match the pace of a subtle and steady sluiced-up rhythm, your fingers working over, inside, back out, twisting and turning.

He’s lost in the way his heart pounds all the harder at the sounds you make because it means you’ve let yourself go. How you’d scramble for his fingers next, lacing them through yours, squeezing him there and everywhere.

And oh, how exquisite you look with that sheen of sweat across your chest. Hovering over him like a goddess and fucking him like a wet dream.

“Baby,” red lip pulled pale between his teeth, hands working in tandem—imitation and imagination constructing a well-oiled machine in your absence. “Baby, fuck. Miss you on me—miss you fucking me. God–”

“Yeah? Gonna come?” You’re panting, too, noises high and obscene, the background echo of your hand growing more frantic and unrestrained. “Me too, pretty boy. I want to do everything with you—have all of you. Your hands, your mouth, your cock.”

It’s all too fast. Your words, his words, your hands, his hands. Feels like he’s barely started when his eyes roll back against his lids. He’s spilling out, over his fist, up his clenched abdomen, body pulled tight, panting heavy and hard as he tugs at himself a few more times, breathing and listening, heart rattling against his ribcage when you whimper one last time.

Watching him come was enough to bring you hurtling over the edge, fingers pumping messily in and out of your sopping cunt, imagining yourself there and clenching around him instead. Your eyes flutter close, your release drenching your hand.

Steve aches then. His eyes flutter open. Heat smothered cold and lonesome like the embers of a dying fire. His neck hurts. His heart hurts.

“Babe,” you say and he hears it in you, too—the same ache, the same want. Like at the end of every call you’ve made to him since you’d left Palm Springs.

“When you get back,” you sigh, the telltale mantle of sleep falling over you, “I’m gonna let you know just how much I miss you.”

He’s hot all over, chasing the ghost of your doting kisses, the phantom touch of your skillful hands. “Jesus, sweetheart.”

A cheeky wink followed by a sleepy wave, and then you’re gone.

He closes out of FaceTime and types out a text to Robin.

Need an appointment with Lorraine Schwartz ASAP pls.

And if he peruses the jeweler’s instagram studying engagement rings for the next hour, well, no one needs to know.

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington smut #stranger things fanfiction #modern!actor steve #hmlhr #Spotify

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firewalkzwit · 10 months

Text

arabella // hobie brown x reader (one-shot)

oneshot of hobie trying to pursue a reader who's effortlessly cool and has strong arabella vibes cuz i love that vibe. inspired some on slc punk and sex pistols lore, cool fic for the music enthusiasts

New girl's hip New girl's cool New girl's interesting New girl's hot.

"She came straight out of 70's New L.A. She's no rockstar's girlfriend, she's a rockstar herself! Crazy hair, mysterious bassist, she's from outer space."

AO3

And when she needs to shelter from reality she takes a dip in my daydreams...

"Ay, who's the new girl?" Was the first thing Hobie asked as he nudged Pav's shoulder, not breaking his intense stare at the new recruit.

"New girl? Oh that's YN." Pav shifted his narrowed eyes into Hobie's, a teasing grin drawing on his face.

"Yea' but what's her full name...?"

"Go ask her yourself man, everyone calls her YN." Hobie never got her name, she refused to be called anything but those particular initials.

To say she was pretty was an understatement. She was stunning, show-stopping, alluring.

At least to Hobie, all adjectives were perfectly applicable.

She had this quirk, this confidence and these slight Chrissie Hynde vibes, boldness when she spoke that made her so attractive, and to top it she was a great musician.

Back in her dimension it was the seventies, and she was the leader of a girl band where she played the bass, doing small gigs in downtown New L.A.

She wore flamboyant black cowboy boots and scandalous skirts, with chunky sunglasses that looked like the eyes of a bug. She had crazy hair and wore Vivienne Westwood's accessories on her pierced ears and fingers before it was even cool in the US. Her dark tights were always ripped but she didn't care, she called it a fashion statement. So did she call her Spidey suit, which had a unique design that caught anyone's attention.

Love was for posers Hobie thought, but what's more punk than going against your own structures?

"Gwendy I gotta' talk to this girl more." Hobie's frustration was something Gwen wasn't used to seeing. His nature was often relaxed, only energic when invited to disrupt the order, but hardly ever frustrated.

"Well, you don't have to." Gwen shrugged as she tried to mask the frown that was forming in her face, but her wrinkled nose gave away her displease of jealousy.

"I know, but I want to." His attention was fixed on YN, how she moved and talked. "I wanna hear her play. You're a girl right? When you girls think a lad's fit, how much of that comes from his coolness?" He asked as he leaned on Gwen's side, resting his body weight on her. She scoffed in disbelief at the absurdity of his question, something only a man could ask.

"Since when do you want to conform to the arbitrary standards of women?"

"I don't, I just wanna' know how many I can get away with breaking and she can still like me yea'?" Hobie chuckled before getting up again. "Don't get too jealous on me alright?" He joked, patting his friend's shoulder as he jumped down from where they were sitting, approaching her once again.

"He's never gonna give up is he?" Miles sat once again close beside Gwen, who sighed at the sight of Hobie attempting to come off as nonchalant with a girl who only seemed to curve his insinuations over and over.

"That's such a man thing to do, no offense." Gwen spat as her hand slid down her face, pointing at what she could only describe as a humilliation show.

"Yeah... right."

It's not that she didn't notice, she just dodged him. She thought there was more important things to do than let herself be conquered by some co-worker. But she was lying if she said he wasn't winning her over.

He also was so her type.

The funky hair, the spikes on his leather vest, the stickers and carvings on his guitar, his Iggy Pop vibes and his weird slang. But he thought he was so it, he was a nice guy but he needed some humbling. Their first conversation was about Bowie, and he played her a bit of Moonage Daydream as she recalled when she saw him live, getting all starry eyed whenever she'd narrate the part where she gave him a ride in her car.

"You gave Bowie a ride?"

"Spider's Tour, yeah..." She giggled, flipping her hair in a way that had him starstruck. "In my mom's car."

"In your mum's car? Oh get out." She went on to talk about how that changed her view on music, going on about her gigs in New L.A and how she moved there to make it big.

Hobie was sure he was listening, but as much as he tried to contain himself, keeping in comments was not in his book.

"You always dress this mad? Like, all the time?" He bursted out with a smile, cutting her off. They were sitting on a counter table, with his guitar on his lap. He leaned closer to pick on the fabric of her coat.

"Always. Do you always dress so pretentious?" She retorted with a smug grin, pushing her hair out of her face. His eyes shot up to look at her, puzzled. "I mean, aren't you like... rebelling against society?" Hobie let out a slight laugh, his head tilting in interest as he looked into her eyes.

"Well, yea'. Why?"

"Don't you think it would be more of an act of rebellion if you didn't spend so much time buying stickers and pins and going out to get punky clothes? Stop me if I'm being offensive, I think the style's hip, but it just seems counterproductive to your cause."

"Na' its cool, keep going." He struggled to discern if he was actually listening, or simply invested in watching her mouth smart words as her long painted nails tapped on the counter.

"You want to be an individual, but it's like you wear a uniform. It's just punk fashion, not rebellion." Hobie's eyes fixated on her's, leaving a strong silence as she ended her phrase.

"I'm not judging you, just kind of a general critique to what they call punk movement."

Hobie brushed her off with his usual humorous comments to maintain his pride, but he was dazzled. Even if she had criticized his way of thinking and how he dressed, she was so outspoken, without caring what he had to say or thought about her opinion, and he was crazy for his first impression of her, as much as he hated to admit it as he'd call 'Love is for posers'. Hobie was sure he was just trying to win her over, to prove a point he'd say, but deep down he loved the way she smiled and shook her head whimsically everytime he'd say something or take time off his schedule to nag her.

It was a few times that she gave Hobie the chance to play with her, to which she soon learnt that he did not know how to read tabs. Of course the punk kid is self-taught. Trying to lead, they would play messy numbers and solos. It was ocasionally just her and Gwen, who had let YN grown onto her sharing her love for girl bands, doing some jamming with their instruments as Hobie payed vague attention. But he would pound on any chance to be alone with her and try to take her out.

She didn't know what was in her that day, but she let him take her out.

He toured her around his universe, before taking her to what he called "his palace".

The small canal boat was ridiculously a very Hobie place to live. If she were to guess, she'd think he lived in a tree somewhere in Birmingham. However it had it's charm, it was very humid and it wobbled when they walked, but it was unique and she loved it. Hobie showed her the collection of things he had stolen, proving himself to be a brilliant thief. He owed most of his 'talent' to his Spider-Sense and speed, but he'd never bring it up.

As she sat on the mattress where he slept in, Hobie picked up one of his records, sitting beside her to show her the signed insides of the vinyl. Her eyes paced from the inscriptions to his face, as he ocasionally caught a glimpse of her through the corner of his eye. He left the vinyl aside to go on about his encounters with the infuential musicians on the area, how he attempted to steal the microphone the Bowie of his dimension had used when he was touring in his city. Her gaze shifting from his eyes to his lips back and forth.

He was hesitant about making a move, afraid he'd mess up what had taken him so much work. But wasn't even given time to think it through before the proximity between them grew, and her hand softly caressed his bony cheek and down to his neck, inviting him to lean into a kiss. As they made out, his cold piercing was quickly warmed by her damp tongue and soft lips that sucked and kissed his. His hands caressed up and down her waist, undoing the buttons on her blouse with his slender fingers as she revealed her naked torso, no bra underneath. YN did her usual hair flip to watch him undress her, and himself, jumping on her once finished to continue what he had briefly interrupted.

"We won't sink, will we?" She asked between soft giggles as the boat quivered at his abrupt movement, Hobie nibbling down her neck and kissing her chest.

"I wank pretty crazy here every night, we won't." He teased before crawling backwards, kissing down her navel.

songs i listened to while working on this:

(ofc) arabella - arctic monkeys

moonage daydream, lady grinning soul and starman - bowie

hey, velouria - pixies

rhiannon, gold dust woman - fleetwood mac

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viranellee · 1 year

Text

freak out on me

synopsis: your feelings for eddie come to a head.

warnings: slight angst (can you believe i didn't write porn without plot this time, me neither!), light smut, mention of drugs & alcohol

a/n: to the wonderful @atrimmunson!

~~~

In a world, a life and a band full of uncertainty, you knew at least one undeniably true fact about yourself - one-night stands are absolutely not your thing.

On the rare drunken evenings when you did welcome a stranger into your bed, you were quick to find out that the shitty, uncomfortable feeling in the middle of your chest the morning after overpowered any sense of pleasure you might have felt during the night. It varied from guilt to sadness to dissatisfaction to even anger. You weren't exactly sure why it happened, or what it meant, but you didn't let yourself linger on it for too long anyway. Like a good, responsible citizen of society, you decided to simply stay away from what you knew made you feel bad.

Despite your fellow bandmates finding your decision fairly strange at first, you stuck to it with such determination that they couldn't help but get used to your "self-induced celibacy", as Daisy had so affectionately called it one time. Every evening you drank a bit, you did a few lines here and there, and made out with whoever took your fancy. Afterwards, you returned to your hotel room and either practiced a bit on your bass guitar or just climbed into bed immediately.

Was it boring for a rockstar? Definitely. But it was a safe and comforting routine, one which you so unfailingly followed that nobody dared to try and disrupt it.

Well, until this morning.

The first thing you notice when you open your eyes is that the colour of the bedsheets is different from the ones you're used to. The first thing you feel is the soreness between your legs. The first thing you hear is the quiet snoring from someone behind you.

Holy shit, you think to yourself as panic starts to creep in, this isn't real. There's no way this is real.

You allow yourself to realize that, despite your growing anxiety, you feel good in a specific way that you've only felt after having been well fucked. It's a sensation you've only felt once or twice in your entire life and something you had nearly forgotten as you grew accustomed to the sheer mediocrity that was your sex life.

You try to dispel those thoughts from your mind as you turn around, trying to see who the sleeping, apparently good at sex man beside you might possibly be and gasp when you see the mop of light brown hair you've fantasized about running your hands through.

He has his back turned to you, but you recognize him immediately. After all, you've had a massive crush on Eddie since the moment he convinced you to join The Dunne Brothers as a bassist when Chuck left.

As your breathing picks up, you try to recall something, anything about last night. You turn your head around, hoping to see clothing on the floor so you'd at least remember what you were wearing. When your eyes land on your dress, a nude mini, and shoes, a pair of beige stiletto heels, the only memory from last night that manages to emerge is Karen complimenting you and telling you something about how Eddie's been looking at you all night.

After a couple minutes of failing to remember anything else, you sigh and run a hand over your face, deciding it'd be better for you to just wash your face with cold water and choose where to go from there.

You walk towards the bathroom, grabbing Eddie's shirt and half-hazardly putting it on, all the while slightly limping, which you can only guess is the result of your more than satisfactory late-night shenanigans with Eddie. You look down when you step on clothing half-hidden under the bed. In particular, Eddie's blazer.

And it all comes flooding back.

---

"Hey, how are you doin'?" Warren greets you good-naturedly from his place on the couch as soon as you enter his incredibly big hotel room, full of people mingling. "Is it just me or do you look sexier than usual?"

Before you can respond, Karen appears and wraps an arm around your waist, eyebrow raised at Warren.

"Back off, Rojas. She's mine." She tells the drummer, who defensively raises his hands in the air.

You laugh at the interaction as Karen turns to look at you.

"Seriously though, you look incredible. That dress is stunning." She tells you, smiling, and you return it.

"Thank you! Almost didn't wear it, but I'm glad you like it."

"Oh, trust me, I'm not the only one." Karen replies, smirking, as she subtly nods her head towards the other end of the room. You turn around and see Eddie, whose eyes widen when your gazes meet. He promptly resumes his conversation with Graham, cheeks slightly flushed.

You look him over, taking note of his dark red velvet blazer that hugs him in just the right places and the unbuttoned white shirt underneath which reveals just the right amount of skin, and you start feeling a little warmer yourself.

"He's been looking at you since you arrived." Karen elaborates, adding fuel to the fire, and you smile to yourself. Ever so perceptive, the keyboardist notices that too, and links her arm with yours, leading you to the drinks table. You can feel Eddie staring at you as you walk away and you have to put in an embarrassing amount of effort just to not trip on your own feet.

When Karen hands you a shot, you drink it immediately, hoping that the taste distracts you from even thinking about Eddie. It doesn't. In fact, it only heightens your senses to the point where all you can focus on is him. You steal glances at him when he isn't looking, silently admiring him until you lose track of time. Various people come up to you, at one point Karen leaves you alone for a bit to go talk to an old friend, and you really, truly don't know if it's been minutes, hours or millennia since this damn party started, but when you look up from your whiskey and see a girl touching Eddie's arm, flirtatiously laughing at something he said, everything snaps back into place. Suddenly, your dress is too short, your heels too uncomfortable, makeup too sticky, hair too tangled, and you feel like you can't breathe. You're drunk and the room is closing in around you.

You're at homecoming again, watching as the homecoming queen leaves with your date. You're at graduation, looking at your boyfriend of two years through teary eyes, as he tells you that he "just isn't feeling it anymore". You're at Warren Rojas's party, loving someone who will never love you back.

You stumble towards the balcony, wiping a lone tear from your cheek. Karen calls out after you, and you really don't want to ignore her like this, but your mouth isn't even capable of forming the words to tell her that you just need some air. You shakily wave a hand towards the direction her voice came from, trying to dismiss her worries, as you step out onto the balcony and feel the cold evening air hit your face.

You inhale sharply, choking on the wave of tears that had threatened to drown you just a second ago, greedily gulping the freezing breeze in hopes that it would kill the poison inside your stomach. Wrapping your naked arms around yourself, you look up towards the starry sky.

"I look like a mess." You mutter to yourself, voice hoarse although you've barely said anything all night.

You hear the sliding doors open and close behind you, and just as you're about to turn around and politely tell the intruder to piss off, a velvet blazer is being wrapped around you.

"Never." A familiar voice responds and your sluggish brain can barely process that the whole reason for your mini-breakdown in the first place is now in the cramped balcony space with you.

"Eddie, what are you doing here?" You question as you slowly turn around to face him.

He looks beautiful, you think for a moment,

but he isn't yours, a second voice berates you a beat later.

Eddie looks at you like you've just asked him what colour the sky was.

"You're upset." He puts it bluntly, eyes frantically looking over every part of your face, as if you being upset and him coming to your rescue correlate to each other whatsoever. As if it's a given.

You blink up at him. He reaches and wipes off a tear that escaped from the corner of your eye. You can feel the calluses on his fingers, the ones only a guitarist could have, the ones you have as well.

"Are you..." He swallows and his nervousness almost makes you smile. "Are you okay?"

You're tempted to lie the way you usually do when you're asked something like that.

"It doesn't matter." You brush his inquiry off instead, looking down at your feet and starting to pull his blazer off your shoulders. "Here's your-"

In the blink of an eye, the sides of your neck are being enveloped by warm hands and your head tilted upwards. Empty eyes meet urgent ones.

"I don't buy that for a second, don't give me that bullshit!" He tells you, desperation laced within anger, helplessness hidden underneath fury. "Don't, don't fucking shut me out again, the way you always do. I'm sick of it."

The air itself hisses back, responding on your behalf with a sudden, unforgiving breeze. Eddie's panting like he's been waiting centuries to say that, while you shiver in his hands.

"Don't act like you give a shit, Roundtree, because I know you don't." You tell him and his mouth opens slightly in surprise. "Don't act like you care."

He's so close to you that your foreheads almost touch.

"Well, I do care. A fucking lot, actually." He fires back and you sigh, closing your eyes.

"Why?" You simply ask, exhausted by the turn the conversation has taken, but you still allow yourself the liberty to bury your head in his chest. You wouldn't have done so normally, but the alcohol in your system makes you braver. He puts his head on top of yours and you feel his heart beating rapidly as he opens his mouth to speak.

"Will you freak out on me if I told you I love you?"

Your head snaps up so fast it’s a miracle your neck doesn’t break. Eddie is looking at you, lips parted and anxiety swimming in his eyes. You open your mouth and close it, like a fish out of water, unable to think, say or do anything at all.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, forget I even said anything, I’m probably drunk.” Eddie apologizes needlessly, shaking his head, interpreting your reaction as rejection and turns to leave.

You grab him by the collar of his shirt, stopping him in his tracks. Before he has the chance to apologize again, which you know he will, you kiss him. His lips are soft, softer than yours, and you suddenly realize that there’s no drug, no food, no man better than this. He stands still for a moment, in shock, but when your hands press against his chest, he grasps the sides of your face, leaning into the kiss.

You don’t know how long you stand there, kissing each other, but when you have to break apart for air, you force yourself to ask him a question instead of continuing to kiss him the way you want to.

“Are you serious? About loving me?”

Eddie smiles at you so brightly that the stars above don’t even hold a candle to him.

“I’ve never been more serious in my life.”

---

"You look good wearing my shirt." His sleepy voice behind you compliments and you turn around to face him.

Half of his face is buried in the pillow, but it still makes your heart flutter. He reaches out towards you, opening his hand and closing it and you can only interpret it as him wanting you to come back to bed.

You comply, anxiety gone, and he rolls on his back, letting you lay your head down on his chest. He wraps an arm around your waist and you can feel him kiss your forehead.

"Eddie..." You start, one last question on your mind. "How exactly did we end up here?"

He turns to look at you, fingertips brushing back and forth against your skin.

"Well, uh, Billy almost caught us making out, and I suggested...taking things back to my room." He sums up and you blush at his choice of words. He doesn't seem to be as affected as you, a smug smirk pulling up the corner of his mouth. "You enjoyed yourself. I made sure of that."

You almost scoff at him, but you know he's telling the truth. The evidence is all over your body.

"Really?" You say, on the verge of smiling as you climb into his lap. His hands grab your hips to balance you with such casualness, you almost forget you kissed him for the first time yesterday. "I don't remember much. I was hoping you could refresh my memory."

As soon as the words fall out of your mouth, Eddie's sleepiness vanishes comically fast - in an instant, he's grabbing and kissing you. You thought it'd take a bit longer to convince him, but you aren't complaining at all.

You return the kiss immediately, and you're happy to find out that the feel of his lips is so much better when you're sober. Soon enough you can feel him hardening beneath you. You start taking off your (his) shirt, but he stops you.

"Don't. I want to have you like this." Eddie explains and starts kissing down your neck, rushing like he might die if he isn't touching your skin.

You're about to moan out his name as his hands slip underneath the shirt, gently scraping the skin with short nails, when the door opens.

"Eddie, man, you won't believe who I sa- Holy shit, I'm so sorry, Jesus Christ!"

---

WARREN ROJAS: That shit left me scarred for life. Should I have knocked? Yeah, I mean, probably. But man, was it traumatizing. [silence] I'm happy for them, though.

#daisy jones & the six #daisy jones and the six #eddie roundtree #eddie roundtree x reader #karen sirko #warren rojas #graham dunne #billy dunne #daisy jones #djats #djats fic #eddie loving #eddie's a rhythm guitarist in this because i said so!!!!! free him from bass #warren always at the scene of the crime i swear

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stvolanis · 6 months

Text

Don’t Wanna Grow Up.

( one shot )

PAIRINGS: Rockstar! OC X Mean! Jim Hopper

WARNINGS: guys Hopper is really mean in this, small plot, OC is in a band (corroded coffin), she’s Eddie’s best friend/step-sister, age gap (OC is 19 and hops in his 40s), dubcon, drinking, usual rockstar things, OC is also kinda an asshole,nice jim at the end, hop being a cop (that rhymed lol)

NSFW INCLUDES: anal play, degradation (slut, brat, bitch), spitting, (hard) slapping, hair pulling, breeding kink, breath play, power play, size kink, manhandling, choking, oral (m receiving), praising (if you squint), heavy sir kink, humiliation, public sex (parking lot), p in v sex, overstimulation, cum eating, SORRY IF I MISSED ANYTHING<3

Istg I got horny while writing this so I hope y’all enjoy !!<3

please lmk if you guys are interested in a part 2!!

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

the night was lively and booming in the small town of Hawkins, Indiana. It was a big contrast to the usual boring nights that the locals were used to, and it was surely a huge difference for on-duty chief of police, Jim Hopper.

Rowdy teens were one thing, but full grown adults plus teenagers being loud and obnoxious was not how hopper wanted to spend his night. Of course the big commotion would only mean one thing, lots of paperwork and phone calls.

It was a Tuesday night. A school night. A work night, even. What could have possibly caused all this up roar in the town? This much disruption and constant noise complaint phone calls from a small, quiet and local bar were unusual. But, nonetheless, the chief loaded up in his cruiser and made quick work of heading to the busy bar.

Jim could hear the faint blaring music from down the road, much to his dismay. As he pulled in and got out of his car, slamming the door shut, he quickly took notice of the locals stumbling out of the bar drunkenly, hollering only god knows what as he watched one fall into a bush. It was gonna be a long night.

Hopper walked into the noisy bar and was instantly met with the smell of strong alcohol and must coming from the sweaty bodies dancing around in the crowd. Unfortunately, he could also smell the lingering remanence of throw up, cause his face to crinkle up in disgust. Suddenly, the bright stage that was flashing every color under the sun caught his attention.

Of course she would be what was causing all of this nonsense.

Blood red hair sticking up in all kinds of directions bounced up and down while singing wildly. One of her dainty, fishnet covered hands in the air as her other held a microphone. The deep red lipstick she was wearing was slightly smeared, as was her eyeliner and mascara. Her honey brown eyes peering over the crowd with a wicked smile dancing on her lips at the mess she’s stirred. The lead singer of Corroded Coffin, Cherrie.

A Highschool drop-out who was on the upcoming charts with her band, soon to be leaving the small town to start touring across America for a hefty price. A delinquent since she became friends with the Munson boy, who she’d met in the 5th grade after she stabbed him in the thigh with her pink pencil.

Cherrie was a force to be reckoned with, and Hop can’t even count on his fingers anymore how many times she’d spent the night in the county jail either high out of her mind or drunk on gin. She’d spent her whole life in and out of the system, till Eddie Munsons uncle, Wayne, decided he’d take her in. Her love for music started when she’d stumbled across Eddie’s massive music collection. Once Eddie got his guitar and she had a microphone in her hand, the rest was history.

The band started off as something they did for fun with their friends, but then it turned into something they couldn’t even imagine. Once their producer released their first album, it went flying off the shelves after about a lingering week of nothing. Before they knew it, they were ushered to go on tour in 2 weeks times. Cherrie always felt she was destined for more than the small town had to offer, but she could never quite place it till now. She had wanted an escape for as long as she can remember, and now that she finally had one, she wouldn’t be coming back anytime soon.

The small town she lived in seen the worst in her, even the ones who were much worse than her. The difference between them was that she wasn’t afraid to show it. She didn’t need to put up a facade for people, because they’d always just see her as the burnt out Highschool drop out. But when she was on stage, it was like she was on top of the world. For once, the people who’d whisper terrible things about her and spread ugly rumors were looking up at her and cheering their hearts out. It was a nice change. It was a euphoric feeling.

Cherrie was no stranger when it came to the male gaze, as she’d dealt with it since she was only about 14. It’s always made her uncomfortable, for sure, but after a while she’d learned how to use it to her advantage. So it was no surprise when she’d tried attempt to seduce Jim Hopper a few months prior when he’d threaten to lock her up for good. She’d ended up spending the night in a jail cell. Ever since then, Jim’s felt uneasy around the ball of fire. Almost afraid she’d pounce at any moment on him.

But right now, it was almost as if he was in a trance as he watched her body move enchantingly. The lighting made her deep olive skin appear more vibrant, and hopper could see the sweat dripping down her chest and into her open cleavage. She wore a tight strapless corset that was laced and a small mini skirt that was so short, he was sure if she turned around he’d be able to see her ass. The fishnets that adorned her arms and legs had skulls embroidered onto them, but hopper could still see her colorful Paul Stanley star-man tattoo on the side of her thigh.

The choker she wore had protruding spikes on it and the chains she wore along with it complimented her slim neck. Hopper instinctively locked his dry lips as he stared at her for a moment longer before their eyes connected, and he felt the hairs on his arm stand up and his back straighten.

Cherrie watched Hopper walked to the side of the stage with furrowed eyebrows as he unplugged Eddie’s amp and the strobe lights, effectively making everyone let out noises of confusion and annoyance. Cherrie rolled her eyes and groaned as she dropped the mic onto the ground angrily before hopping off of the stage, pushing her way through the crowd to get to Jim. Eddie was hot on her tail, trying to calm down the fire he could’ve swore he saw in her eyes begin to spark, but he was soon lost in the crowd as he called out to her.

“What the fuck are you doing, shithead?!” Cherrie yelled out as she stood in front of Jim. “Doin’ my job, Cherrie. But you always gotta make it harder f’me, huh?” He huffed out with annoyance as he pushed past her towards the crowd of rowdy people.

“Everyone out! Right now, unless you’d like to spend the night with me at the station.” He yelled to the crowd, who quickly dispersed. Many sending Hopper ugly glances, but he was too over everything to care. “No, this is my scene, why’d you have to come fuck it up?!” She said with a groan as she stood chest to chest with him, though she was much smaller than him.

“Noise complaints, from multiple people.” He replied dryly. “Why can’t you just stay out of trouble for 2 fuckin’ minutes, is it that hard?” He added with a scoff. Cherrie didn’t process what happened as she felt her fist connect with his cheek, wincing as she rubbed her knuckles before slowly looking back up at an angry chief.

“Shit—Wait—” she muttered as she tried backing away from him, but Hop wasn’t having it. He harshly gripped her upper arm before slamming her front into the wall. “Cmon, yknow I didn’t mean to.” She said as she tried to wiggle free from his tight hold. “Shut up, brat.” He replied through clenched teeth as he snapped his cuffs onto her wrists.

“Ow!” She shouted as the cuffs tightened around her wrists painfully. Hop ignored her please as he dragged her out of the now almost empty bar. Eddie was by his van as he watched Cherrie get taken out in handcuffs with a shake of his head and a frown. “M’ sorry, Eds!” She shouted to him across the parking lot with a shrug of her shoulders. Eddie sighed as their band loaded up their belongings into his car.

Hopper pushed her forward towards the car. “We ain’t stoppin’ for chit-chat.” He grumbled under his breath. Cherrie merely rolled her eyes in annoyance. “Asshole.” She muttered under her breath. Hopper gripped her wrists in the cuffs tighter and he watched as she winced in pain. “What was that? Hm?” He muttered lowly in her ear.

She could feel his warm breath against the shell of her ear, and that’s all it took for her body to feel like it’s on fire. His grip on her wrists and the way she could feel his crotch area brush against her ass as they walked to the car from how close they are had her body on edge. She bit her lip as he opened the backseat door for her before roughly shoving her in and slamming the door shut.

Hopper got in his seat and fumbled with his keys with a huff before starting his cruiser. “Yknow you’re kinda hot when you’re mad to me, chief.” Cherrie giggled as she batted her lashes. Hopper eyed her through the rearview mirror, his eyes briefly trailing down to her open cleavage that was now free of sweat before rolling his eyes and adjusting the mirror to see better behind him, but really it’s just so his boner wouldn’t further harden from the sight of her in cuffs in his back seat.

Cherrie giggled lightly as she made herself comfortable in the backseat as Jim began driving to the police station. And then an idea hit her. “Yknow, I always thought you were a pretty shitty cop.” She said aloud as she looked out the window with a smirk. “Excuse me?” Hopper said, taken slightly aback.

“You heard me. I don’t even know you you became chief—I mean, aren’t you always drinking on the job? Yet you wanna make me seem like I’m the worst person ever.” She scoffed out with an eye roll. Hopper slammed on the breaks, making Cherrie hurl forward, hitting the head rest with a loud ‘thud’.

“Shit—what the fuck, Hop?!” She yelled out with furrowed brows. Jim’s breathing was erratic and hit fists were white from gripping the steering wheel so hard. “Yeah? You think I’m a shitty cop? Alright, y’little bitch.” He muttered with a dark chuckle as he drove into an empty parking lot that was some what hidden behind trees.

“What’re you doin? you aren’t gonna kill me are you?” Cherrie giggled, feigning fear. Hopper didn’t respond as he parked the car and swung his door open, quickly opening Cherries too. “Hey—” she started, but was cut off when hopper gripped her upper arm tightly, yanking her out of her seat and onto the ground. Cherrie sat on her knees in front of the cop, looking up at him through her thick lashes.

“Y’gonna hurt me, Hop?” She challenged with raised brows and a taunting smirk. Hoppers hand harshly made contact with the side of her cheek, roughly slapping her, making her head spin to the side as a stinging pain overtook her cheek. Cherrie whimpered lightly, making Hopper chuckle. “Thought this was what you wanted, brat.” He said tauntingly as he gripped her hair, making her look up at him.

“Now here’s what’s gonna happen—” he started . “Y’gonna suck my cock like a good girl n then I’m gonna fuck that tight little cunt until I’m through with you, n maybe your ass if I feel like it. You’ve been a little bitch all night so don’t expect to fucking cum, y’hear me?” He stated as he peered down at her. Cherrie felt her pussy begin to ache with need, but this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. She wasn’t supposed to actually want him the way she does now.

Cherrie nodded and Hopper slapped her once again, but on her other cheek. “Words, slut.” He spit out. Cherrie moaned at the slap, making hopper chuckle. “Yes, sir.” She muttered as she bit down on her lip. Jim groaned at the name. “Good girl.” He praised as he began to unzip his pants, letting them fall to his knees.

Cherrie could see his large bulge and a small wet patch where his tip is that’s seeping through. “M’gonna teach you how to suck cock properly, little girl.” He said as he let his hard cock spring free, long and so thick. A vein ran along the underside of it and Cherries mouth watered at the sight, but she wasn’t gonna let up so easily. “S’ not gonna fit in my mouth. Don’t want it to.” She said.

“I don’t give a fuck, you act like a brat n’ you get treated like one.” He said as he slapped his cock against the side of her cheek with a smirk. He soon forced Cherries mouth open with his thumb and shoved his throbbing member down her throat without warning, making her gag aloud. Cherrie could feel her eyes watering as his cock hit the back of her throat with no mercy. It was getting hard to breathe, and it didn’t help when the mean man above her pinched her nose shut as he held his cock in the back of her throat with a loud groan.

After a few seconds he let her nose go and she released his throbbing dick, gasping for air, hee chest heaving. “Please—” she begged through breaths of air. Jim quickly shoved his cock back down her throat that was now becoming unbearably sore, along with her jaw. She moaned around his cock as she began to grind her sopping cunt against the chiefs freshly polished boots.

Hopper felt his end coming near at the sight it. “Look at you— h-humping my boot l-l-like a bitch in heat.” He moaned at through clenched teeth as he watched her mascara and eyeliner run down her cheeks from her tears that he caused. The way she feverishly humped against his boot harder after his comment made him cum down her throat with a groan and a string of ‘fuckkk, just like that’ and ‘so fuckin good’.

Cherries senses were overwhelmed as she tasted him down her throat and on her tongue. Salty, but not bitter. Hopper slightly pulled out and released the rest of his cum on her tongue that was hanging outside of her mouth with a satisfied moan. Cherrie made quick work of swallowing his generous load. “Whaddya say, baby?” He mocked.

“Thank you for your cum, sir.” Cherrie said as she gripped at his leg, her panty covered pussy still dripping on his boot. “Needy little girl, aren’t you, Cherrie?” He asked as he clicked his tongue. She nodded and muttered a small ‘yes, sir’ as he surprisingly, gently pulled her up from the ground. Hopper gripped Cherries throat and pulled her face close to his, just enough to where their lips were brushing against each other.

“‘M gonna fuck you so good.” He muttered, and Cherrie groaned as he lips finally crashed with his. The kiss was messy and heated, and their teeth clashed together as did their tongues. They fought for dominance, but Jim over powered her as his tongue danced with hers. “Fuckkk, y’taste so good.” He groaned against her as his grip on her slim throat tighten just above her spiked choker that he adored so much on her.

He opened her mouth before spitting into it, his boner growing larger as he watched her swallow it obediently. It was just something about making her go from a bratty, loud, rude and arrogant little girl to a submissive, hot mess with not much to say now that made Jim Hopper go absolutely fucking feral. The need to be inside of her hurled into his senses as he dragged her to the front of his cruiser, bending her over the hood.

Jim got down onto his knees, now eye level with her wet, fishnet covered baby pink panties with lace on the trim of it. “So cute, baby.” He muttered as he kissed the flesh of her ass before gripping both cheeks in his large hands. He pressed his nose into her panties and inhaled her scent deeply, his dick throbbing at the smell of her arousal. Cherrie whimpered as his nose brushed against her aching clit as she tried to wiggle her pussy even closer to his face.

Hopper chuckled at his needy girl and licked a long stripe over her panties. Cherrie let out a pornographic moan as he sucked her panty covered clit into his mouth. “Please, sir, ‘m sorry for bein’ a bad girl, need you so bad. promise I’ll be good.” She whined out as her eyes began to water again.

“Since you asked so nicely f’me, whore.” He said as though he were pondering it. He stood up and easily towered over the small girl bent over the hood of his car as he ripped her fishnets big enough to wear he could push her panties to the side. He groaned as he watched her slick drip out of her pussy and down her thighs. “Hop, my fishnets..” she muttered breathlessly.

“I’ll buy you new fishnets, baby, whatever you want.” He muttered as leaned over and kissed her shoulder. He slapped her ass, once, twice, just to watch it jiggle against the impact before spreading her ass once again to get a better view of her pussy. “So wet..” he murmured to himself as he slapped her gently slapped her cunt, making her let out a soft groan.

Hopper aligned his massive cock to her entrance and pushed in forcefully before pausing for a moment to get the smaller girl used to his size. Her cunt squeezed around him in a vice grip, almost painfully as he hissed. Cherrie moaned as she felt him fill her small cunt to the brim, kissing her cervix. She could feel him throbbing inside of her, begging to move.

“Please, sir—” she started, and Jim wasted no time in pulling out just to slam back into her again, causing Cherrie to let out a gasp. Hopper began pounding into the red haired girl, one of his hands gripping her wrists that were still in handcuffs while the other harshly smacked her ass hard enough to leave a deep red hand print, making Cherries eyes water.

Her eyes rolled to the back of her head as she moaned out loud ‘uhs’ each time he slammed back into her. As his pace began to gradually increase, the sweaty sound of skin slapping together could be heard throughout the parking lot and Jim felt like he was on cloud 9. Her cunt was so warm and tight. Almost as if she were a virgin.

Hop imagined her stomach swollen and her breasts enlarged and swollen with milk. How she’d become domesticated and obedient, much to his pleasure. He imagined her whimpers and moans as he’d fondle her nipples and squeezed the bundle of nerves just to watch the milk come out of them.

His hips slammed into hers harder and faster, taking Cherries breath away as her moans were uncontrollable and throat sore. Her mind was blank and all she could think about was the way he was filling her up. “Like the way I fuck you, hm? Stuffin’ this little pussy just the way you like.” The older man said as he threw his head back with a loud moan.

God, she loved how vocal he was. It made her pussy clench around him as she felt her orgasm approaching. “Sir—‘m gonna cum, gonna cum, oh my god—” she moaned out, her voice a higher pitch as she whined at the stimulation. Hopper sounded almost animalistic as he let out a what sounded close to a growl. “I told you you’re not gonna fuckin’ cum, you hear me?” He said through pants. Cherrie could tell he was being serious, but she just couldn’t hold it.

“please, ‘m sorry, sorry, I c—ca—can’t hold it.” She gasped out as her mouth formed into an ‘O’ shape as her orgasm slammed into her. Cherrie squirted all over Jim’s lower body, making him let out a groan. “Fuckkk..” he groaned out again. Cherrie thought Hopper would let up since she’d already came, but it seemed like the man had other plans.

Her pussy was so sensitive as he continued his brutal thrusts in and out with no remorse to her aching cunt. “please—stop, I can’t—“ she begged loudly as she tried to push her cuffed hands against his lower stomach, weakly trying to push him away from her but failing miserably. “No, you wanted to cum so you’re gonna fuckin cum for me as many times as I tell you to.” He said as he watched her ass jiggle each time his hips hit hers.

Hopper moved his hand that was around her wrist to her ass cheek, spreading it before spitting down into her puckered hole. He used his thumb to smear around his saliva before he slowly pushed it in, making Cherrie hiss out in pain. “This is what little girls who don’t listen get. They get their assholes used and violated.” He said with a chuckle as he began to fuck her tight ass with his thumb.

Broken moans left her throat as she felt herself go cross eyed, body shaking at the stimulation of her clit dragging against the hood of the car with each violent thrust delivered to her over-used cunt, paired with his thumb fucking into her ass made her orgasm quickly approach again.

“Sir, ‘m gonna cum, please let me cum, please, please, please!” She yelled out like it was a chant. Hopper bit down harshly on his lip, drawing blood before speaking. “Hold on, ‘m almost there, slut.” He huffed out as his thrusts became erratic and sloppy. “Y’want me to cum in this pussy? Make you nice n’ full? Make you all nice n swollen with my fuckin’ babies?” He moaned out.

“Yes, yes, yes, oh my god, need your cum, please cum in me. Need it so bad.” She moaned out, drunk on his cock that was drilling into her now more sloppy. “Yeah? Fuck , yes. Cum f’me right now, Cherrie. Cum f’me.” He repeated over and over till she squirted all over his cock for a second time, her body shaking and spasming with each dragging thrust he blew.

His hips stilled as his cock stuffed her full, and she could feel him getting soft inside of her before lazily pulling out. Hopper dropped down to his knees again and began licking up both of their release from her hole, savoring the taste of her juices that were now dripping down the starved man’s chin, making his beard sticky. “Oh my god.” Cherrie moaned as her legs shook violently at the harsh overstimulation of him fucking his cum back into her pussy with three of his large fingers.

Jim let up and slapped her cunt a few times for safe measures before he grabbed the keys to her handcuffs and took them off. Hopper put her panties back in place to make sure none of his valued cum can get out of her used cunt. He let her body fall limp against him as he picked her up bridal style as he opened the passenger door, gently putting her in.

“‘M takin’ you to my house, baby. Gon’ take good care of you, Cherrie.” He murmured gently as he kissed her temple. Cherrie nodded and blushed madly at his gentle, loving tone. A tone no one besides Wayne or Eddie used for her.

Maybe Jim Hopper wasn’t so bad after all.

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

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kirkycurls · 7 months

Text

What Do You Call...

Warnings: none, bad joke lol

You'd long since drained the last dregs of your cappuccino and had resorted to chasing the raindrops sliding down the window with your eyes.

Forty-five minutes you'd been sat in the corner while you watched your boyfriend pose and play, pose and play; get made up; hair primped and preened...forty-five long minutes that felt like four-hundred and forty five.

"Babe", you called half-heartedly.

Click. Flash.

You groaned, hopping off the stool Kirk had left you on earlier with a quick kiss on the nose as he'd slung his guitar around his torso and headed over to the opposite corner for what seemed like the millionth shoot this week.

A few steps closed the distance between you and your lovely model. Up close from this angle you could see the sheen of hairspray in his dark curls; smell the cologne he only ever wore for shoots.

Makes me feel extra sexy, he'd say with a wink.

"Babe", you tried again.

"Not now", he whispered through almost closed lips, not looking.

"And another one with the guitar held up, please", the photographer's rumbling voice instructed from behind the camera.

You wandered a little closer, taking care not to step across the line that marked the edge of the shot.

You sensed Kirk stiffen, less focused on the task at hand at the feel of your presence.

Click. Flash.

"I have something to tell you." No response.

"Psst, babe!"

Kirk cleared his throat, shifting his guitar and repositioning his feet as the photographer called more directions. You knew he knew you were toying with him. You did this every time he had to pose for photos and he secretly enjoyed it, no matter how much he tried to act the professional. He was still just a big kid who loved the thrill of mucking about when he shouldn't, and you were excellent at providing just enough pressure to a serious situation such as this—pressure that would eventually make him crack.

You liked to drag these things out so the result was extra satisfying, but today, bored as you were, you decided to cut to the chase, leaning in as far as possible without interrupting the shot.

"What do you call a dog that can do magic tricks?"

Kirk's moustache quirked.

"Keep it up. Yeah that's right, hold it straight up."

Click. Flash. Click. Flash.

You suppressed a giggle as you prepared to deliver the answer to your newest favourite joke. The tension coming off your boyfriend was growing with every second of delay...

"A labracadabrador."

The photographer stood up from his crouching position to observe the disruption, glaring at you like a possessive ex.

"I...can't...". Kirk threw his head back in laughter, his guitar shuddering under every amused muscle in his upper half. A devious smile crossed your lips as you watched him come undone by the corniest joke you'd ever heard.

You shot an apologetic glance at the photographer and stepped over the threshold of the shoot setup, holding Kirk's shoulder still with one hand and pressing a kiss to the crease in the corner of his eye.

"Always a pleasure with you", you whispered, smirking.

You sighed and turned to take up your previous spot on the stool in the corner, listening to the photographer attempt to calm your silly boy so he could finish his job. Little did he know the professional rockstar would not be returning, not today at least. He'd have to wait until next time, but of course then you'd have another joke, fresh, hot and ready to serve. You smiled at the thought. Can't wait.

#Kirk hammett #oh what did I do hehe #this is inspired by my last post #enjoyyy #kirk hammett fanfiction #Kirk hammett fluff #kirk hammett x reader

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skinomyteethh · 7 months

Text

to be or not to be?

pairing; kelly nickels x fem! reader

summary; thoughout kelly's newfound fame as bassist of L.A guns he had been acting different though you weren't sure if it was due to the restless nights they'd spend preforming or another aspect

contains/warnings; mentions of cheating. oral (female receiving). fingering. teasing. slight cum eating? little to no dialogue. may contain spelling errors :(

authors note; I need kelly nickels' magic stick in my mouth. also it deleted the damn ask so </3 anyways I hope y'all enjoy reading this!!!

cheating in the eighties or seventies rockstar scene was not at all unusual or taboo, it was extremely difficult to find a rockstar who hadn't cheated on their spouse. hell, robert plant not only had his wife maureen he also had a tour wife and a multitude of other groupies alongside him. these stories seemed to absolutely terrify [name], the thought of her boyfriend cheating on her while on tour was extremely stomach churning.

she sat on the sofa of their shared apartment, staring at the television emotionlessly and in deep thought until a phone call disrupted her thinking. a soft sigh parted her lips as she stood up and turned off the television, walking over to the phone in the kitchen, answering it.

"hello, this is [name]." she stated rather blandly, hearing the stumming of a guitar and clashing of cymbals as well as loud laughter. "hey babe, it's me, I just wanted to check up on you." his voice was somewhat raspy, it signaled that he had continued his excessive smoking habits. this whole rock 'n' roll scene seemed to be fueled off of addictions.

[name] hummed, maintaining her hold of the phone against her ear as she laid against the wall, fooling around with the coiled cord of the telephone before finally responding. "i've been alright, how about you? are you enjoying the tour?" her tone seemed curious yet curiosity was far from what she was feeling, she had her suspicions.

a short moment of silence came upon them, though it was shortly broken by the sound of Kelly chuckling. "it's been hectic, but i'm glad you're doing alright. we're heading back to Los Angeles later today!" just as she was about to respond she heard another voice, it was the voice of another female, she sounded extremely flirtatious and seemed to have a stupid valley girl accent.

"babe, sorry for cutting the conversation short but I have to go." he remarked, letting out a small laugh before hanging up. [name] stood still for a minute, the phone still in her hand, that whole predicament was strange, unsettling even. perhaps now Kelly was apart of the bunch of idiot rockstars who cheated on their partners/spouses.

she sauntered back to the sofa, turning the television back on. overwhelming thoughts began to fill her head as she leaned against the headrest and closed her eyes. what if Kelly had been cheating on her during these past months? what if he had been cheating on her prior to those months? those thoughts filled her head as she slowly drifted to sleep.

at around mid-day the loud, almost uncanny creaking of the front door both opening and shutting startled [name] out of her sleep. she sat up, feeling slightly dazed, not fully awake. her eyes glanced back as she heard the rather heavy bass guitar case drop onto the floor. Kelly hummed placing a soft, quick kiss on her forehead, taking a seat next to her.

upon feeling his lips against her forehead all thoughts prior to his arrival began swarming back, causing her mood to sour. he noticed her sudden and rather drastic mood change, wondering what on earth could have caused it. "did you have fun with her?" her question caught Kelly off guard, what could've caused her to think he was with another woman, despite what others may think he was a loyal, committed man with no desire for anybody but [name].

"what are you talking about?" he queried, raising an eyebrow in confusion. [name] responded with a scoff, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "you think i'm stupid? I heard that girl Kelly." flashbacks seem to hit him like a wave crashing onto the shore. the girl whose voice she had heard was tracii's new groupie girlfriend, he would never and could never cheat on [name].

"that was tracii's girl." [name] rolled her eyes, her expression was tainted with judgement, she still thought he was lying. Kelly sighed, closing his eyes. he was somewhat irritated at her accusations, out of all the people in this horrid world Kelly thought [name], his girlfriend of however many years would know he would never even think of doing something like cheating.

and he was going to prove it.

Kelly was going to make her realize he still loved her. she was slightly by his abrupt actions as he somewhat roughly threw her onto their bed, haphazardly taking his clothing off. his eyes trailed down to her white lace panties, he trailed down and slotted his hand in between her thighs, tugging at the waistband of her panties with his pearly white teeth.

a soft, desperate whine escaped her lips as he tugged them down. he hadn't bothered taking them off of her completely, they were low enough for him to engulf in her pretty little cunt. his warm tongue began to eat her out rather messily, his chin was dripping wet with her arousal as he slightly nudged his nose against her clit, licking up and down her folds as if she were to be his last meal ever.

her hands roughly tugged at the roots of her jet black hair, moaning out random praises as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. Kelly circled his tongue around her clit painfully slow, [name] glanced down at him, absolutely breathless, finally muttering a coherent sentence. "babe, please.."

desperation and neediness were clear in her tone as she quietly spoke. he hummed, bringing his pointer and middle fingers up to her lips. [name] shakily opened her mouth, enveloping his fingers in the warm of her mouth, coating them in her saliva so he could prep her and finally give her what she desired the most. after a minute or two he pulled his fingers out of her mouth, bringing them down to her entrance, inserting his pointer finger, then his middle finger.

[name] bit her bottom lip roughly, gripping the cool, white sheets below her as he slowly and rather gently fingered her. soon enough, one of her hands wrapped itself around his wrist, maintaining his fingers in place as she eagerly fucked herself against them like an absolute whore. Kelly simply watched her in amusement, placing soft, teasing kisses on her inner thighs.

her movements eventually became sloppier, less desperate and calculated, it signaled that she was getting extremely close to reaching the edge. he simply removed her hand from his wrist, pulling his fingers out of her. at that moment she seemed to despise the feeling of emptiness in her, whining as she took off his underwear.

Kelly desperately slotted his dick between her wet folds, the head bumping against her clit as he moved his hips back and forth, up and down. her arms reached up, and wrapped themselves around his neck, desperately holding onto him, loving the feeling. he halted his movements shortly after, grabbing the base of his dick, breathing heavily while he lined himself up with her hole, reaching his hand down, slapping her cunt before inserting himself into her slowly.

he moved his hips closer to her, watching as her soaking cunt absolutely devoured every inch of his cock. Kelly sighed euphorically as he finally inserted himself completely into her, bottoming out. [name] began to crave him even more than before, slowly moving her hips against him, his hands gripped onto her hips tightly, stopping her movements as he began to roughly thrust in and out of her.

each time their hips met her body felt an overwhelming wave of pleasure, her tits bouncing to the rhythm of his thrust. Kelly leaned down, pressing his chest to her back, placing soft kiss on the back of her neck as she moaned breathlessly. he reached his hand under her, groping one of her tits, adding even more pleasure into the mix.

every thrust, every groan, every touch drew her closer and closer to her orgasm. her moans began to grow louder and her body became somewhat limp as she finally reached her high, cumming all over his cock. "that's a good girl.." he mumbled, continuing to thrust into her, overstimulating her sensitive cunt.

his hip movements became sloppier by the second until he finally spilled his load deep inside her. slowly and shakily he pulled out, once again slotting his head in between her thighs, spreading her folds open with his fingers, pushing whatever mixture of their cum spilled out back into her.

finally, Kelly sat up, laying his head against the headboard, breathing heavily. "I hope that showed you how much I absolutely love you and how I would never cheat on you hun." he mumbled, bringing her closer to him. [name] let out a breathless chuckle, laying her head down on his abdomen, glancing up at him.

"it definitely proved something like that."

#fanfic #kelly nickels #kelly nickels smut #kelly nickels fanfiction #la guns #kelly nickels imagines #la guns x reader #smut #kelly nickels fanfic

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mybrokenveins3000 · 7 months

Note

Hey I just read all of your college Ross pieces and I love them!!

What about one night if reader goes out and ends up too drunk and calls Ross so he comes to pick her up and takes her home. Maybe she's trying to talk about her feelings for him but he doesn't want her saying anything she'll be embarrassed by. Or she asks him to stay the night so he sleeps on her floor

A/N: Oh. My. God.

FIRST AND FOREMOST, thank you for the love and for readingg <3 It really means the world to me. SECOND OF ALL... ANON... YOUR BRAIN IS SO LARGE. I am going to PASS OUT. Thank you for this request, my heart might just burst. I might have gone over board, this is the longest thing I've written thus far. Anyways, here goes nothing... enjoy ;)

Drunk Call - College!Ross Macdonald

word count: 1.5k

♫ Heavenly - Pale Waves

This party is excessive and headache-inducing - the music is bad, the people even worse. You don't even know why you're here. When your flatmates asked "why that party?", you simply replied, "just for something to do".

You're slumped down by the foot of the couch, tangled between legs, empty bottles, empty cups. No matter how much you hammer at the side of your phone, all that blinks back is a fat 0%.

The liquor is not sitting right in your stomach, you're not in the mood, and each thrum of bass reminds you of him.

You haven't seen Ross for what feels like forever. He had gone back to his hometown for the week whilst you stayed in the city. There was something noticeably different about the setting without him, the lights felt dimmer, the air felt colder.

You were conscious not to disrupt his week at home, spending so many nights staring at an untouched keyboard. Oh, the amount of text messages you thought up but never sent.

But you knew he would be back today, which was your main source of hope in this tragic, alcohol-punctuated moment.

Without a second thought, you pull at a semi-familiar friend's trouser leg and ask if you can borrow their phone. After a reluctant "yes", you're punching a familiar number onto the screen, then the bright and inviting call button.

The phone buzzes softly in your hand as you lift it to your ear.

Pick up pick up pick up pick up--

"Hello, this is Ross speaking."

You relax at the sound of his voice. You were beyond the border of missing him.

"Hello!!" you exclaim, loud enough to hear yourself over the music - which is to say deafening from his side of the line.

"Whoa," it's like you can hear him wincing, "is that who I think it is?"

"Mhmmm"

"Where are you? Are you okay?" You selfishly smile at the twinge of panic in his voice as he registers the state you're in.

"My phone... it died... This is the only number I know," you gulp, "off by heart."

He's speechless, already devising a plan to save you. If only you could see him now, a blushing mess, half worried, half desperately in love.

"Are you busy?" you add before he can react to the former statement.

"Uhh no, just finished practice. Where are you?"

"Oh, practice... GUYS, I'M ON THE PHONE WITH A ROCKSTAR!!" you announce with such pride to a room full of strangers and acquaintances, once again almost deafening him on the other side of the line. And yet he's hanging onto every word, even if it hurts him.

"Okay, I'm coming to get you," he laughs, "don't worry, I think I know where you are."

"My hero!" you tease, "but please come soon, the music is so bad and I miss you, Ross, I FUCKING MISS YOU--"

You accidentally hang up.

---

Not two minutes later, you see a familiar, flushed face enter the room. Did he run here?

The scene is hazy and fragmented, but you could recognise the space he takes up in any room, even in this state. Ross towers over the crowd, a vision in black denim, searching over moving heads and smoke. Then he locks eyes with you.

You wave at him, still sitting on the floor by the couch. He seems to sigh in relief, hand on his heart.

You spring up as he approaches, unaware of the bottles and cups you've knocked over. He takes you in - you, slightly unravelled but the same as ever. Still beautiful as ever.

"ROCKSTAR!" you cry as you flop into him, catching his eyes crinkling at the name. And you're back in his arms, so inviting, not so dissimilar to the comfort of home. "How did you know I was here?!" you beam at him.

"Matty mentioned it. He wasn't invited," he laughs.

"Lucky him."

You stand there in the middle of the room holding each other for a while, both revelling in how much you've missed each other. For a second, it's warm and quiet. If it took one long week and a bad party to experience this, you think, then it was all worth it.

Suddenly, the song changes to a particularly insufferable one. You both groan like you're one body, one mind.

"Let's go?" he says.

"Let's go."

---

You dance in and out of streetlights down the path to your accommodation, humming one of his band's songs, one from the night of the gig. Ross's walking right beside you, arms at the ready in case you fall or turn where you're not supposed to. Even as you stumble, he gazes at you with amazement at how beautiful you look without even trying.

"What was that thing?" you blurt out.

"What thing?" he hums in response, his alertness veiled by a sense of calm, eyes still glazed with wonder.

"You know, that thing you said when we first met? I'm someone you want to keep, was it?"

"I don't know what you're talking about. I never said that." he teases, his playful grin giving away his lies.

You throw your arms out and scream into the night, "I'M SOMEONE YOU WANT TO KEEEEEEP!!"

He laughs awkwardly, eyes widening at your sudden outburst. But he adores you. In this moment, that's his only truth.

"Ah, okay, let's take a break"

He settles you down onto a nearby bench. You take in a deep breath of fresh air which turns into a yawn.

Your head starts to droop, but he quickly rests it on his shoulder as he lowers down to sit next to you. Always ready to take care of you, to save you when you let him.

"So suave, so so nice, so nice" you mumble drowsily, half to him, half to yourself.

"What was that?"

"You're so nice... And so good-looking," you can't stop your mouth from moving, "I really like being around you and I missed you so much, but I don't know if you felt the same!! But you're so nice, sometimes I just want to--"

"Okay, okay, that's enough," he slithers his arm around your waist and hoists you back up onto your feet before you say something you'll regret.

But he's unable to bite back a smile. In another world, he would let you speak, but he knows you and knows better than to let you talk yourself into a hole you can't escape.

Not yet, he thinks, not like this.

"Hey! You could compliment me, you know," you nag as you start walking again.

There's a pause as he really considers his response.

"...you know you're gorgeous, right?" he finally sighs, breath visible in the crisp night air, "besides, everything I'd say, I'd want you to remember."

---

He gently lays you down in your bed, but you can't seem to let go of him.

"I don't want you to go", you whine, "won't you stay?"

"For how long?"

"Stay forever."

His eyes soften as he looks down at you, your arms still clasped around his neck. Only you have the power to render him speechless like this. It's so easy for you to get what you want.

You let go of him, aggressively patting the empty side of the bed.

"Call me old-fashioned, but I don't share beds with drunk girls," he says. He takes a stray pillow and blanket, and plonks them onto the floor beside you so he can monitor you as you sleep. By this point, you've already passed out.

---

Ross can't sleep. He doesn't mind the floor, but stirs at every sound and movement you make, constantly checking if you're okay.

Throughout the night, he finds himself looking at the details of your room, at books, concert tickets, and photos of friends and family - pieces of you that he wants to know more about.

He watches you, so peaceful, in awe how he has someone like you in his life.

My life would be so boring without you, he thinks.

---

You wake up just as he walks into the room with a cup of tea. He sets the cup down by the bedside table with a soft smile. The air of domesticity is something you could live in forever.

"Hi," you mumble through fluttering eyelids, filtering the Sunday morning sun.

"Hi. Are you doing okay?"

You nod as you sit up. He sits on the bed, brushing the stray hairs from your face, the warmth of his hand like a healing force. You can't tell he hadn't slept because of how happy he looks just to be there.

You reach over for the tea with the comfort of knowing he made it just how you like it.

"I didn't say anything weird, did I?" you croak, sipping the tea.

"No, not at all," he replies.

There's a moment of silence. The morning birds fly past the window, the steam of the mugs mists your eyes.

"I missed you too, you know," he finally says, "I missed you so much."

A/N: Didn't proofread this but HOPE YOU ENJOYED. I'll probably edit it a bit when I come back, but I wanted you to have this sooner rather than later, anon. THANKS FOR YOUR REQUEST AGAINNNN

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oneforthemunny · 4 months

Note

Aw, this anon had me thinking about Rockstar!Eddie and Nepo Baby unraveling their relationship more!

Following "Dark Shadows," Eddie does make an appearance in Nantucket. Sitting on the beach, Nepo Baby is unwinding and reflecting on life, toes digging into the white sand, as the waves cause a chilly breeze, and her white linen shirt is flowing through the wind, when suddenly a voice from behind her disrupts her thoughts.

"You really weren't kidding, huh?" She looks back to see Eddie standing behind her, looking at the ocean crash against the sand, before her eyes follow his movements, as he sits next to her.

And she gently speaks, "You came." Forcing him to crack a genuine smile at her.

"Yeah, I came." He reaffirms. "And like I was saying, you were right."

"That's a first." They both quietly laugh. "But about what?" She asks.

And he's just staring deeply into her eyes, as his heart is palpitating in his chest. "Just things seem a lot prettier over here." And he's obviously talking about her, because of how intently he's looking at her, and they both become flustered and awkward, just totally different from their loud and abrasive attitudes.

Okay, I gotta see myself out- they're too cute (before the drunken "I love you" during sex happens, lol).

he shows up to nantucket and absolutely rocks their picture perfect world (and hers).

brb sobbing at them starting to be soft with each other and all giggly and crushy and then trying to be mean. at this point in the relationship, they’re literally flirting like middle schoolers and somehow it’s so precious.

#oneforthemunny #munnytalks #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie munson x nepo baby!reader

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moriartyluver · 3 months

Text

ARE YOU MINE CHAPTER II

"THEY SEEMED LIVELY," An emerald eyed young man chuckled

Herder shook his head with a sigh "Too lively," He said in a thick german accent "They always come here to mess around with the instruments. In fact I can probably count on one hand how many times those delinquents have bought anything."

"Delinquents? I believe you've caught my attention now, Herder." Albert smiled as the German walked over to where William's piano was, ready to check through it by the young man's request.

"Well, for what they lack in basic respect for finely crafted instruments they make up for in being interesting," He said as he opened the large piano.

It had taken quite a while to get to Q's but William had insisted that it be taken there, rather than being operated on at home. William had told his older brother he didn't want his mother finding out something was wrong with the piano or else it may ruin the surprise he had planned for her birthday.

"They didn't seem that interesting." William scoffed as Albert narrowed his eyes at him "I mean, they were rather rowdy over a mere guitar, I don't suppose they have any hopes for their futures, causing disruption like that."

"I'm sure you wouldn't care for the disruption if it weren't in your presence." Albert said harshly

"Mm.. they are quite ambitious, especially that girl, (Name)." Herder hummed as he peered inside the piano, inspecting the keys mechanisms carefully. "She believes she's going to be the next big thing, a rockstar if you will. Her skills aren't too bad either but she did mention that she was struggling without an experienced manager to guide them, she is just a child afterall..."

If his interest hadn't been piqued already, it certainly was now. An idea had sprung to mind, but Albert was unsure as to whether he could bring it up without meeting this supposed band first. Besides, he already had alot on his hands with all the businesses his father had left him.

"You've heard them play?" Albert asked

"Indeed. Just a few small bits though, but they do performances on occasions, although I refuse to go." Herder said, feeling around the inside of the piano "Personally I prefer Jazz."

"So they're just some wannabe rock band? As expected of them," William sighed "Everyone thinks they can be a musician nowadays, I blame tiktok."

"Aha!" Herder exclaimed in satisfaction "I see your problem now. This key was disconnected, that's why it was making such dreadful noises." He said as William peered into the piano from beside him, watching as Herder explained it to him.

"Alright, can you fix it?" Asked William

Herder nodded with a smile. "Give me five minutes and it'll be as good as new."

"Thank the lord," Albert muttered in annoyance "You wouldn't mind telling us more about this band?"

"What more is there to say?" Herder asked rhetorically as he pulled out a tool and began fiddling around in the piano "There's 4 of those trouble makers, especially the bassist and the backing guitarists, always breaking instruments and refusing to pay for them..tch..the drummer is alright but he doesn't exactly fit the image for their little band. I think the others consider themselves as anarchists of some sort, but that drummer of theirs sticks out like a very well behaved sore thumb."

He continued as he tinkered with the piano "Actually I think yesterday was the first time (named even bought anything here..a little red electric guitar. A fine piece for an aspiring rockstar. She said she came back to get the amp that came with it," His little German accent echoing within the piano walls "But personally I think she was just looking for someone she saw yesterday..probably took a fancy to him."

"I could care less about some garage band.." Albert's younger brother huffed, crossing his arms "Aren't you done yet?"

"Looking for who?" Albert asked curiously

"Oh none other than your little brother..the William with more yellow-y hair." Herder finally stood up straight with a smile as he shut the piano "It seems that is all." He said, turning to Albert "I'll have it delivered back immediately, boss."

Albert nodded, placing his hand on William's shoulder while they left through the door. "Yes, thank you again Herder."

'..I wonder what her name was..'

Pale, nimble fingers pressed down on black and white piano keys, prompting an elegant tune in it's wake.

'She did say she had a band..didn't she?...what did she say they were called again..?' The blond attempted to recall, reminiscing on the encounter, only a day prior.

The melody of piano echoed through the halls, the same few keys being played repeatedly to replicate the same bridge over and over - almost obsessively- like a broken record. It was as if he was trying to summon a ghostly image of her his thoughts, shutting his crimson eyes to visualise the memory. By now, he had been playing so quickly, not missing a note, that the once beautiful song had turned sour while his fingers moved robotically.

Faster.

"William!"

DUNG

William winced, both at the sound of the dull note he had mistakenly hit, and because his younger brother was calling out to him from behind, a concerned frown on his face.

"Louis?" He whispered softly, turning to face him on his seat.

"Are you alright, brother?" Louis asked, fiddling with the frame of his glasses "I was trying to tell you to quiet down, but you weren't answering me-"

"Good afternoon," Albert smiled, entering the large estate with his other brother while the others by the piano turned to look at him, smiling politely. "Was Will playing Tchaikovsky again?"

The dirty blond pulled a face, a mixture of confusion and disgust while William and Louis greeted Albert upon seeing him enter.

"He has." Louis stated "All day."

"Ever since yesterday afternoon, you've just been coming back to that piano, haven't you?" Albert chuckled "And swan's lake of all things?"

The older William scoffed, moving past the brunette "He's been doing that since yesterday? How weird can you get..." he said, furrowing his eyebrows

Of course, his brothers were unaware of the encounter that he had had the day before, so they hadn't understood the significance that swan's lake held.

"It isn't that much of an issue, brother." Louis said reassuringly "But I'd prefer a calmer environment to study.."

"I, I apologise.." William spoke "I've had a lot on my mind, that's all."

Albert furrowed his eyebrows, approaching his brothers and leaning against the wooden piano. "That's rather typical of you."

"Yes, well I'm always thinking." The blond said, his lips thinning in a frown.

"About university perhaps?" Albert said, raising a brow curiously. "I don't blame you for being nervous of course, it's quite a change and it's less than a couple of months until freshers week at Oxford."

"Still don't get why you wanna study maths," The other William chimed in as he held his phone in his hand, scrolling aimlessly through some social media app. "I mean Oxfords cool and all but what do you even do after that? Become a teacher?"

The older William, Albert's biological brother, had been studying finance and marketing at King's college London university for the past 2 years, and in October, he was to return for his third and final year. Afterwards, he secretly hoped to work for the Moriarty family company, lead by Albert following their father's passing.

"If Will likes maths then I don't see why he shouldn't do it," Albert glared at his little brother. "He's good at everything, but maths is his passion, and he's pursuing it for that reason, unlike some of us."

Chestnut coloured eyes looked up from the phone screen to the side of Albert's head "yeah well I don't think you liked business management much either,"

Louis let out an 'ahem', cutting between a potential quarrel between the two brothers.

"I'm not worried, Albert." The blond William reassured "In fact, I'm rather excited."

"I should hope so..honestly you could have gone a couple of years ago if it wasn't for the admissions board." The brunette sighed "Anyways, we fixed the piano and mother will be here in a bit to take William home, because he can't drive." Albert said, putting his hand on the dirty blond's shoulder

Offended, the older William turned to Albert, glaring with his mouth agape. "I'll have you know I have my provisional license!"

"Not enough to drive."

"I don't have my driver's license," Louis said in attempt to avoid conflict once more.

Out of all his brothers, he was likely the most sane. Albert was possibly an insane alcoholic who almost smiled when he heard his father died, the older William had a strange imposter syndrome which he disguised with narcissistic tendencies and the younger William didn't even use his real name and probably had a bookshelf fall on his head when he was a kid leading everyone to think he was autistic or something.

"That's because you're barely 17," The younger William said.

"Oh well forgive me for being too busy to do the test because I was preoccupied after the divorce because I was practically the only one there for-!"

The door swung open once more.

"Mother?"

"William?" A dirty blond middle aged woman greeted "You and Albert are here early." She turned to the younger William and Louis by the piano "Other William, you're here too. Hello, Louis." She smiled, giving Louis a wave.

"Hello," Louis stood up straight from leaning against the piano, as his brothers followed.

"Mother, hi." The dirty blond William said, somewhat surprised "Thank goodness you're here. I think I was starting to lose it. This one," He pointed his thumb to the other William who was still sat beside the piano. One could compare him to a little sad puppy. "Has been playing Tchaikovsky all day apparently."

"Don't be rude William, I'm sure it sounds lovely," Mrs moriarty furrowed her eyebrows, then turned to her other son "Albert, how have you been? I've heard you've made a few more investments."

Albert nodded as Louis left to make some tea "Just a few more shops, nothing too major...although I've considered an entertainment agency, but that's yet to take off." He said "How have you been mother?"

Previously, Albert, as well as his adopted brothers, didn't have the best relationship with Mrs Moriarty. After years of being married to the psycho she called her husband, it had made her a much different woman. She became constantly paranoid about her husband leaving her for another woman (even though she didn't like him much at all) or afraid her children were constantly in danger.

At one point, she was convinced her second son, William was being bullied when he was in primary school because he had a bruise on his leg and ended up screaming at his teacher so hard she cried.

Following the divorce though, that same William had convinced his mother to get therapy and ever since, she had been getting better, slowly but surely. She didn't even seem that affected by the death of her now ex-husband last year.

"A lot better than I was this time last year," she said with a melancholic smile. "Congratulations by the way," she turned to William "Attending Oxford in the autumn...it's quite the accomplishment. It's a family tradition amongst the Moriartys..of course there would be no shame in not following it, traditions are meant to be broken in a time like ours, but I say it's the best place for a boy like you."

William, who had often been treated coldly by Mrs Moriarty, before she started going to therapy, seemed a little surprised at the passing compliment. Even after she had started getting better, it was rare that Mrs Moriarty would come visit Albert, let alone her two adopted sons and they had only recently called her 'mother' for the first time too.

Louis began to walk towards the kitchen "I'll get you some tea, mother,"

"Thank you Louis, two-" she started, cut off by Louis who flashed her a smile

"Sugars and green tea, I remember." He said, leaving the large lounge.

Once Louis had finished brewing Mrs Moriarty her tea as well as for his other brothers and himself, they had all sat in the lounge, somewhat awkwardly until the older William made some comment about his plans for his final year

"I'm rather excited for the second term," he told his mother. "I wonder if Colombia is as big as Kings..I used to get lost all the time when I first started."

"Are you sure you even have the capabilities to study abroad by yourself?" Albert asked as he placed his teacup down on his saucer "And you'll be studying with the fourth years too..doesn't that trouble you?"

Albert had just graduated a couple of months ago and was already swarmed with work, he didn't need to worry for his little brother getting lost in a city he barely knew.

William was to go on an exchange programme in January to New York, which was quite the challenge for a boy who could count the number of nights he had spent away from home on one hand. There wasn't any particular reason for it, but his two adopted brothers both suspected it was because Albert was to do the same until the abrupt death of his father in his second year. Since then, he'd only ever taken care of his fathers affairs (financial, not romantic...Albert wasn't a predator after all)

"I'll be fine, I'm not a child." He frowned "I'll be there until Easter and then return back to London just in time for finals and graduation."

"I think it's a good idea," Louis spoke, "In fact, I'd like to go a year abroad myself when the time comes..it does foster independence after all."

"Indeed," The younger William agreed, picking his teacup up "Sometimes you don't necessarily need to be ready to step outside of your comfort zone."

"Well said," Mrs Moriarty smiled "University is the best opportunity to do so..in fact, that was how I was introduced to your father," she said to her two older sons.

Cue another awkward silence.

"My, would you look at the time," Albert looked at his Watch-less wrist before being nudged by Louis. He promptly fixated his gaze on his other wrist. "I should be going to bed soon."

"At 7pm?" William raised an eyebrow as he looked to his mother in disbelief "how old are you, Albert, eight?"

"Well I-"

"Brother has a long day ahead of him tomorrow." William said calmly, standing up "he has to wake up at 4 am tomorrow morning to prepare for a meeting at work..it's a rather important one too."

He wasn't lying. Albert had a packed schedule tomorrow from travelling all the way to York for a meeting then back to London by midday and then to his office for another few hours to finish up on some projects, then he had a colleague's , a big stakeholder, wedding to attend as well as going shopping for a new suit and all that with barely any breaks in between.

"Ah, my apologies, Albert," Mrs Moriarty said sympathetically "Come along, William. We must be going now if you want to finish buying your back to school essentials tomorrow..we have a long day ahead of us after all, of course not as much as Albert's.."

"Bye then." William sighed and got to his feet, reluctantly saying his goodbyes as he left with his mother.

For a moment, the three brothers stood in silence, the memory of Mr Moriarty death washing over them, before Louis eventually spoke.

"I'm going to go revise.." He said quietly, slowly leaving the room as Albert let out a teasing remark.

His green eyes twinkled mischievously "Why exactly were you playing Tchaikovsky, Will?"

William looked down, his long hair covering his face slightly, "I just remembered, I have something to do as well." He murmured following his brother out of the room.

"If you say so," Albert chuckled, watching his brother rush off, uncharacteristically flustered.

A/N: Mr moriarty fucking died 🤣🤣 deserved L + bozo + skill issue. bro u guys have no idea how hard it is to write a scene with the Moriarty brothers. Like I’m losing it with the two similar names and shit. Also to those of you who thought I’d make Mrs Moriarty dead or an abusive bitch, you thought wrong!! She and the og will are alive and getting the therapy they deserve!! If anyone gets mad at me for this, just say you don’t like character redemption with actually evil characters 🙄 anyways less about these stupid rich mfers, next chapter is focused on (Name) and her band of brokies

#moriarty the patriot #william james moriarty #william moriarty #william moriarty x reader #yuukoku no moriarty #mtp william #moriarty the patriot x reader #yuukoku no moriarty x reader #—are you mine 🎸

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