#the sexiest couple in rock and or roll

[nadja-antipaxos]

Bruce Springsteen and Patti Scialfa guest with Levon Helm and his All Stars (who feature Max Weinberg at the time) at The Stone Pony, Asbury Park, NJ, August 22nd, 1987

Setlist: Up On Cripple Creek/Lucille

(📸: ©Debra L. Rothenberg)

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Whiskey, Neat

Summary: Y/N is sweet and awkward, how will that work out for her when she meets the world's hottest rockstar.

Pairing: Rockstar!Jensen x Reader (Y/N)

Warnings/18+: Smut. Unprotected PinV sex. Oral (m&f receiving). Vaginal fingering. Bit of dirty talk. Shy/Awkward reader. Jensen being an absolute rock god. Jensen being irresistible. Jensen being the hottest mofo on the planet.

Word Count: 5,154

A/N: So I got a couple of requests (here and here) for a rockstar!jensen fic after the shows in Austin that murdered us all. I already had every intention of writing something to try and slake our thirst, so I hope this satisfies what you were looking for my friends! Got it out a day earlier than I thought I would! Yay! 😁

I also took some inspiration from this unbelievably hot TikTok. 🥵🥵

As always, of course, this is a single, multiverse version of Jensen. This is a complete and utter work of fiction. ❤️

Jensen Ackles was a fucking, rock god; Y/N wasn't denying that. 

Her friend, Angela, was shaking her head at her and throwing her arms wide. 

“He's fucking amazing! Girl! Why wouldn't you go? They're backstage passes and he is the sexiest fucking man on earth! How can you pass this up?”

Y/N's face became pleading, willing her friend to understand her trepidation. “Because he's the sexiest fucking man on earth, Angela! And what am I supposed to say when I meet him? ‘Hi my name is Y/N. I have four cats, and an inability to speak without horribly embarrassing myself. Please don't look directly at me or I might burst into flames.’”

Angela rolled her eyes. “All you need to say is, ‘Hi, I'm Y/N and I'd be happy to suck your dick.”

Y/N felt her cheeks get warm. “Not likely.”

“Y/N!” Angela whined. “You have to come. You won the passes and they're in your name. If you don't go, I can't go, and you'll be denying me my god given right to maybe fuck Jensen Ackles.”

Y/N scowled at her. “Your god given right? Really?”

“Okay, fine. My god given right to go drool over him up close!” 

Y/N was hesitating and Angela could sense she had her on the ropes as she continued. “Look, you've been looking for ways to get over your shyness, right?”

Y/N scoffed. “Yeah and those ways don't include making a fool of myself in front of a rock god.”

Angela pouted. “Please? It will be so much fun.”

Y/N felt her stomach clench at the idea but finally relented. The truth was that alongside the unbelievable fear at the idea of meeting Jensen Ackles, was an equal amount of ridiculous excitement.

She sighed. “Fine but if it looks like I'm gonna throw up, you need to promise to get me out of there.”

***

The crowd was screaming and jostling Y/N around as she stood in the floor section, about five feet from the stage. Jensen hadn't even come out yet, but the musicians that backed him on tour were coming on stage, and everyone knew that meant he was minutes away from coming out.

Angela was quite possibly screaming the loudest. It was a lot for Y/N to be immersed in the noise and chaos. But she also had pleasant butterflies in her stomach, allowing the excitement to override her extreme nervousness.

Finally the lights went down in the house and the lights pointing at the stage came up, bright and colorful, and zooming around the stage. 

The first blaring notes of Jensen's latest hit started just as he leapt out on stage. He began to sing the driving melody, using his rough, powerful voice to give the lyrics the feel of a battle cry.

The first four songs were performed one right after the other, whipping the crowd into a frenzied, frothing mob. 

After that, he slowed things down a little, introduced the band and promised them all an unforgettable night. 

He did a couple of medium tempo songs from previous albums, and one of his slow, slightly melancholy hits. Y/N sang along with every word. 

She could have sworn that when he was close to the edge of the stage and looking down at them all, he made direct eye contact with her. It was only for a moment, and he may have been looking at something behind her, but that stare still made her toes curl.

The rest of the concert was incredible. Jensen dripped sex on stage, his body drenched in sweat. His voice cast a spell over the crowd as it moved back and forth from rough and full of grit, to velvety and full of warmth.

He did two encores before he left the stage for good. When he was gone, Y/N stood in the aftermath feeling like she'd been given a pleasure overload.

And now she had to go meet him.

Angela grabbed her hand so they wouldn't get separated in the throng, and followed the signs pointing the way for those with backstage passes.

They walked down a long rope line until they reached the very end. They waited behind the velvet rope for Jensen to arrive and start signing autographs.

It was easy to know when he emerged from the stage door because a wave of hysterical screaming started up once again.

Y/N could see him approximately twenty feet away, making his way down the line, smiling at fans and taking selfies with them, signing CDs and posters of him. More than one woman pulled down the neckline of their t-shirt so he could sign the heavy swell of their breasts.

As he approached them, Angela started screaming for him and waving her CD towards him. It was at that exact moment and not a moment sooner that Y/N realized she had nothing for him to sign. She carried nothing with her and there was no way she was bold enough to get him to sign her boobs.

Jensen approached Angela and smiled at her before shooting a quick look at Y/N. He focused his attention back on Angela as her friend gushed and yelled at him over the crowd.

“You're the absolute best! The show was incredible!” She told him. 

He smiled, thanking her and handing her back the signed CD, before obligingly leaning in slightly to allow for a selfie.

Finally Jensen reached Y/N, the very last person in the line. He stared at her for a moment and Y/N just stared back, falling head first into the green magic of his gaze.

He raised an eyebrow and leaned a little closer to be heard over the crowd. “Got something for me, Sweetheart?”

Angela's voice was in Y/N's head and she was about two seconds away from shouting. “Sure, I can suck your dick.” 

Thankfully before that happened, he made a motion like he was signing something and she realized he meant, did she have something for him to sign.

She shook her head. “No, I…I'm sorry, I didn't think. I don't have things.” She said, slightly rambling.

He smiled warmly and Y/N practically melted into the floor like the Wicked Witch of the West. 

“Well, we gotta fix that.” Jensen said, nodding to the bodyguard standing at the end of the rope. The giant man unhooked the velvet barrier from its pole, holding it out wide so that Y/N could leave the line. 

Jensen leaned towards her to make himself heard again and she was almost completely undone by the scent of him; clean sweat and salty skin combined with something masculine and tangy that made her desperate to bury her face in the t-shirt that clung to him like a second skin.

When he spoke into her ear, goosebumps spread over every inch of her body, and it took her a minute to actually process his words.

“Come on into the green room with us and we'll find you a CD so I can sign it for you.”

Y/N swallowed convulsively and then waved at Angela vaguely. “My friend…”

He smiled at Angela again and waved her forward. “She's welcome to come too, the more the merrier.”

Angela shoved Y/N forward in her excitement to follow him and Jensen reached out to steady her.

He grinned at her. “You good?”

She just nodded emphatically.

“What's your name, darlin’?” He asked, and his soft Texan drawl made her woozy. 

“Y/N.” She answered in a shaky voice.

“Well hi, Y/N.”

Jensen ushered them forward, letting them precede him into a short, slightly dark hallway. As they turned a corner and continued down a longer, better lit hallway, the noise of the crowd slowly receded. 

It was only a minute until they reached a big brown door and the bodyguard opened it for them. 

Inside was a party. There was a makeshift bar at the back of the room and the band was already a couple of drinks ahead. They’d obviously brought friends too, some men, some women. Music played loudly and everyone gave a cheer as Jensen walked in. 

They were quickly surrounded by people clapping Jensen on the back and congratulating him on a great show. There were some press people there as well, wearing press passes and snapping photographs. 

Y/N was overwhelmed by everything happening around her, and she turned to Angela to silently freak out with her, but her friend had been immediately and completely distracted by the drummer who had approached her. She seemed to be very caught up in him as she wandered away from the group to chat with him quietly. Y/N shook her head, trying to snag Angela's attention again and force her to come back, but that was apparently impossible.

Finally as the crowd around him parted, Jensen looked back at her. 

“Give me ten minutes to shower and change and I'll be back. Can I get you a drink first?”

Y/N shook her head no and then answered anyway. “I'd like a water.”

Jensen seemed slightly surprised by her choice, but smiled and took her hand to lead her to the bar, where one of the bodyguards was doing double duty as a bartender.

Jensen leaned over the makeshift bar and spoke loudly, above the music. “One water and one whiskey, neat.”

Y/N felt ridiculous as the bartender passed her a water bottle before pouring out about four fingers worth of Whiskey for Jensen. She wasn't a big drinker, but she'd certainly drank before. She liked vodka, she could have asked for something with vodka.

Jesus, I'm completely out of my element here. She thought, starting to feel a bit claustrophobic even in the wide and spacious room.

She looked down at her feet as she spoke to Jensen. "You know, you don't have to sign anything for me. I mean...I don't wanna trouble you. I don't need anything."

Jensen tipped her chin up with his forefinger. "I'll let you in on a little secret sweetheart."

He smiled flirtatiously and his bright green eyes sparkled. "I didn't actually bring you here to give you an autograph. I just thought we could get to know each other a little."

Her heart started to hammer against her ribs and she blinked owlishly at him. The sexiest man alive just wanted to spend time with her?

His flirty expression softened a little and he dropped his hand, taking a step back.

"But if you just wanna go, that's no problem."

Y/N shook her head adamantly. "No, I wanna know you. Get to know you."

Jensen nodded. "Good."

He took a quick sip of his whiskey and then set it down beside her. "Then, guard that, will ya? And I'll be back in ten minutes max, and then maybe we can get some fresh air? You look like you could use it."

Y/N nodded in relief. "Yes." She said quietly. He reached out and squeezed her hand before striding off to disappear through yet another door.

Y/N stood awkwardly by the bar, occasionally making eye contact with someone and quickly looking away. Angela seemed to be the only person who's eye she couldn't catch, mainly because she was in a lip lock with the drummer.

Thankfully Jensen was as good as his word, because ten minutes hadn't passed before he returned.

His hair was wet from the shower now, and he wore a clean white t-shirt and pair of black jeans. He looked utterly scrumptious.

He picked up his glass and took a sip before smiling at Y/N. "Thanks for keeping it safe for me."

She shrugged. "I live to serve." She frowned at her stupid response and wanted to take it back, but Jensen chuckled and thumbed towards the ceiling.

"So there's a rooftop patio if you don't mind climbing a couple flights of stairs."

Y/N nodded. "Okay."

He place his big, warm palm on her lower back, guiding her through the room and making a shiver run up her spine from where he touched her.

As they left, she still couldn't get Angela's attention, so Y/N just took out her phone and sent her a text to let her know where she was so she wouldn't worry.

If she even noticed.

After walking up a couple flights of stairs, Jensen pushed through a metal door and they emerged onto the rooftop. There were a few tables and chairs set up, as well as a very comfortable looking, if slightly worn, leather couch. It was sitting inside a big canvas tent - likely to keep it from getting ruined if it rained.

There were a few other people sitting around the tables chatting quietly. A cool but gentle breeze blew and Y/N sucked in a big breath of it, exhaling slowly.

“Better?” Jensen asked, a smile in his voice.

Y/N nodded. “Much, thank you.”

“Good. You looked like you might pass out if we didn't relocate quickly. Even in the autograph line you looked a bit shell-shocked by everything.”

He was smiling but Y/N felt her cheeks get warm. Had she really looked so stunned and out of it standing there?

“No, I was…I mean I loved it. The show. You're so…you were so good.”

She wanted to scream at herself for using such an uninspired word. "Good" didn’t really describe the experience of watching him command the stage and hold every single person there in the palm of his hand. 

H

But he just nodded. “Thanks. Glad you enjoyed yourself.”

“I really did.” She said trying to imbue more of her true excitement into her words.

Without discussing it, they wandered over to the couch, and set their drinks on the small table beside it.

“So, what do you do, Y/N?” Jensen asked as they sat down.

Their conversation was slightly stilted for the first little while, which was completely down to her. She was trying, but her words tended to be choppy and stiff as she second guessed everything that came out of her mouth and awkwardly tried to explain away her awkwardness…which in turn caused things to be…awkward.

Slowly but surely, though, as a couple of hours went by, Jensen pulled her out of her shell - charmed her out of it, really. He was funny and warm and his calm demeanor and patient, understanding vibe eventually made her feel relaxed and happy. Soon they were sitting close together, talking about when he’d started playing the guitar.

“I was about six.”

“Six?” Y/N asked incredulously. “Could you even hold onto the guitar at six?”

Jensen chuckled. “Amazingly, yes. And it was good I started young cause you need years of practice to build up good calluses on your fingers.”

Jensen picked up her hand, turning it palm up in his.

He clicked his tongue and shook his head like he was disappointed, but his voice was soft and teasing. “Could never make a guitar player out of you with these soft hands.”

He ran his fingertips over her smooth palm before raising it slowly to his lips. He placed a small kiss there and Y/N's stomach fluttered and her heart beat fast. Her breath was shaky and shallow as Jensen shifted his gaze to her mouth. He let go of her hand to cup her cheek and run his thumb across her bottom lip.

“Its got me wondering if your lips are just as soft.”

Y/N swallowed loudly and shocked herself with her response.

“You can check if you want.”

“Thanks, I think I will.” Jensen said with a wicked grin as he lowered his head, breathing softly against her lips. The whiskey on his breath made her dizzy, or maybe it was his scent surrounding her again. Either way her heart was pounding and her lower belly tightened almost painfully.

Jensen pressed his lips to hers and they were soft like silk, but warmer. Before he could even press his tongue to her lips, she opened up inviting him in immediately. Jensen groaned quietly as he slid his tongue inside. He tasted like whiskey and mint and she was instantly starving for him. 

He kissed her senseless for several minutes, pulling gasps and groans out of her easily. He began to let his hands roam as he moved his lips down the side of her neck and Y/N let out a soft, breathless cry, throwing her head back as his big hand palmed her breast through her t-shirt.

Her mind whirled as he laid waste to her senses. She couldn't believe any of this was happening, but she chalked it up to a vivid dream, and she refused to do anything that might derail it. So she urged him on as he let his hands reach up under her shirt to squeeze her lace-covered breast and tease her skin where it swelled above her bra.

“Yes, god, your hands feel so fantastic.”

“Mmm…” Jensen moaned as he licked her pulse point. “Calluses aren't too rough? Cause, fuck baby, you’re soft all over.”

Y/N shook her head. “No, I like them rough.”

Jensen pulled his hands out of her shirt and sat up slightly, making Y/N whine at the loss of his hands pressing firmly into her flesh.

He nodded sideways towards the tent opening. “Should I close that?”

Y/N remembered suddenly that there were people at the tables barely thirty feet away. She was surprised to find she didn't actually care that they would likely hear them and guess what was going on inside their little enclosure. 

She nodded at Jensen and he rose quickly, pulling the sides of the canvas together and tying them closed.

He moved back towards her, but instead of sitting beside her again, he pressed his hands into the back of the couch on either side of her shoulders and rested a knee on the seat between her legs. He hovered over her for a moment, fixing her with a stare that made her toes curl, just as it had when he looked at her the same way during the concert.

Her voice was hoarse with desire when she spoke.

“Was I imagining things, or did you notice me in the audience tonight.” It was a bold question, and ordinarily she wouldn't have the courage to ask it. But the look of heat and need on Jensen’s face as he stared at her so intensely made her feel fearless.

He shook his head in answer to her question. “No, you weren't imagining it. You were just so beautiful, you snagged my attention and made it hard to look away. Your expression was so wide-eyed and sweet.”

He leaned down a little and kissed her softly. “You sure you're okay being here with me, sweetheart? I don't wanna pressure you into anything.”

Y/N was shaking her head before he'd even finished his sentence; she spoke loudly as she desperately tried to reassure him. 

“No, trust me. I wanna be here. So much wanna be here. Never in a million years would I have thought that I WOULD be here. Like, if you'd asked me which was more likely to happen tonight…aliens descending from the sky in hot pink convertibles to take over the world, or me having sex with Jensen Ackles, I can tell you I would have been looking for our alien overlords.”

Jensen looked slightly bemused at her rambling. “Wow.”

Y/N blushed. “Sorry, I’m quiet to start, but once you get me going, I can be pretty loud.”

A slow, sexy mile spread across Jensen’s face and Y/N blushed a deeper red. “Sorry, that sounded a lot dirtier than I meant it.”

Jensen shook his head, still hovering over her, trapping her between his arms braced against the couch. 

“Don’t apologize, sweetheart. I like dirty.” He kissed her softly. “I like sweet too. They make a pretty incredible combination"

He pulled back from her and slowly lowered himself down till he was on his knees in front of her. “Just two things.” He said, raising two fingers. “One - I’m just confirming that you did in fact say you were going to have sex with Jensen Ackles, right? That wasn’t me just hearing what I wanted to hear?”

Y/N laughed breathlessly. “No, you heard right; there's no way I wanna stop at just a make out session.”

Jensen bit his lip, and his gaze smoldered hot enough to burn her to a crisp. As a result, her voice was barely a whisper when she spoke. 

“And what’s the second thing?”

“I just wanted to tell you that, when I make you scream my name? You don't have to call me Jensen Ackles. Just Jensen works.” He smiled mischievously. "Course, 'Oh Daddy!' works too.” 

He shrugged. “I’m easy.”

He winked at her and Y/N felt her breath leave her body as he pushed her t-shirt up a bit and began to lick and nibble at her stomach, before he pulled it all the way off and tossed it aside, leaning forward to gently bite her nipple through her lacy bra.

Y/N shivered and stifled a moan. He slid his hands around to her back, unhooking her bra, which she pulled off. Keeping his strong hands pressed into her upper back, Jensen held her in place while he licked her nipple into his mouth, sucking on it hard before letting it go so he could flick the tip of his tongue against it.

He paid the same attention to her other breast and then alternated back and forth between the two. Soon her breasts were heavily marked with small purple bruises he’d sucked into existence. 

He let go of her so she fell back against the couch, as he deftly unbuttoned her jeans, and slid his fingers under the waistband to pull them down. He nodded to her. 

“Lift?”

She obliged and he slid her jeans over her hips and down her legs. He quickly pulled off her shoes and then took her jeans all the way off. He ran his big, calloused palms up and down her thighs and she trembled. 

Everything still seemed a bit surreal, and the sensations he was evoking in her only made it seem more likely that she was dreaming. Outside of her own imagination, she never thought she’d feel this kind of thrumming need run throughout her body.

He spread her legs wide with his broad shoulders as he settled between her them. He pushed her panties to the side so he could lean forward to teasingly touch the tip of his tongue to her clit. He swirled it there for a moment, making her buck her hips and push her hand into his hair. It was still slightly damp from his shower, but incredibly soft between her fingers.

Jensen spoke and his breath was hot, even against her burning skin. “God damn, baby, you really are too sweet.” He said licking his lips. 

He paused to slide her panties down and off of her, and then quickly buried his face in her cunt. She yanked hard on his hair, surging up against his lips and clamping her thighs tight to his ears. He wrapped his arms around her legs and pried them open again, holding them in place, while never once stopping his oral onslaught.

His tongue was magic, his mouth was heaven. Pure. Heaven.

He quickly had her on the brink of climaxing, but he pulled away, making her gasp in dismay. “Please, Jensen…” She begged, tugging a little on his hair and trying to direct his mouth back to her. 

“Patience baby.” He cooed against her thigh as he nibbled on it. “Just let me take care of you, just let yourself feel it.”

She could definitely feel it. Blood pulsed in her throbbing clit and her muscles shook with her need. Still Jensen just teased her, sucking more marks into her inner thighs and occasionally lapping his tongue through her slick folds, making her jolt upward as though she’d been electrocuted.

Finally, when she was whimpering quietly and begging him to end the pleasurable torture, she felt his thick middle finger slide through her folds, teasing her clit briefly before pushing inside her slowly. 

“God! Fuck!” She moaned as Jensen added a finger and stretched her open.  

“That’s it, baby.” He said as he began to feel her walls flutter and tighten around him. “Come for me now.”

Proving he had complete control of her body, Y/N felt him press against the spongy spot inside her and she immediately followed his command and came fast and hard, clamping down on his fingers. He stopped pumping them, keeping them buried inside her, pressing on her g-spot over and over again, bringing on two more orgasms in quick succession.

As she was laying there trembling like Jello and recovering from her third orgasm, Jensen stood up, stripped off his shirt and yanked down his jeans and underwear. Her slightly blurry vision cleared immediately and she quickly focused on his cock, semi-hard and jutting out from his body. 

Without even thinking about it, she just melted off of the couch and onto her knees, leaning forward to suck his tip into her mouth. 

“Unf - fuuuck.’ Jensen groaned, drawing out the word. 

He pushed his fingers through her hair, so that he could cup the back of her head with his hand. He slowly pushed her further down his dick before making a fist in her hair and pulling her off of him just as slowly. 

She gasped as she came off of him, spit and cum keeping them linked. He took hold of himself with his free hand and tapped his cock against her lips. 

“Open up, sweetheart. I wanna see you stuffed full of my cock while you look up at me with those beautiful eyes, gone all wild and needy.”

Y/N moaned and opened her mouth immediately to let him push further down her throat. Her eyes watered and saliva dripped out of the corners of her mouth as she looked up at him, and began moving up and down his thick cock. 

He guided her head as she bobbed on his dick, and praised her with disjointed compliments. 

“Fuck, Y/N, yes. So fucking perfect. You’re doing so good, baby…just…fuck me! Just like tha-” 

His words cut off with a deep guttural groan as she slid slowly off his dick, hollowing her cheeks and sucking hard.

He threw his head back, and she could see sweat glistening on his neck. His face was contorted in pleasure and his teeth were sunk into his bottom lip, making her clit start to throb at the sight of him.

He whimpered slightly as she popped off of him. “God, baby!” He said, pushing her back down his length, even though he was shaking his head. “You gotta stop now or I’m gonna come down your throat and I’m way too desperate to ruin that fucking pussy for that.”

He tugged her off of him again and he helped her up off her knees, pulling her close against him so she could feel his burning skin against her own. She ran her fingers across his wide chest and over his flat belly, sighing as he slotted his mouth over hers to kiss her deeply.

She could taste herself on his tongue, overriding the whiskey, and it made her pussy clench just thinking about everything that very talented tongue had done to her.

Finally he pulled away and cupped her cheek, rubbing his thumb across her lips and then pushing it inside, pumping it shallowly. He raised an eyebrow. 

“How do you want it, baby? I can put you on your knees on the couch and fuck you from behind, or bend you over. Or you can sit in my lap and ride me; I can lay you down beneath me and just bury myself in you so deep.”

His voice felt like warm chocolate and was just as delicious. Y/N nearly stopped breathing as she contemplated her choices. 

He pulled his thumb out of her mouth as she finally she decided. “I just wanna be able to see you, that’s all I care about.”

Jensen kissed her again, soft and sweet, walking her backwards a few steps. He lowered her to the couch before following her down, placing a knee on either side of her hips. She looked up at him as he towered above her and felt a shiver of want run through her body. Her pussy was clenching painfully around nothing, desperate to have him inside her.

Taking hold of his cock, he pushed inside slowly; when he was about halfway in he stopped to give her time to adjust. He was very long, and very, very thick so she appreciated the time to get used to his size.

But very quickly she was desperate for more, pushing her heels into his thighs to urge him in deeper. When he was sunk into her completely he groaned and collapsed on her, holding some of his weight on his forearms, but still crushing her into the couch cushions, which felt absolutely incredible.

Then he began to move in and out of her in perfect rhythm, pumping his hips in long, fluid strokes. Y/N moaned deeply as she scored her nails across his shoulders. The action made him grit his teeth and increase his pace. She gripped the sides of his hips with her knees, her whole body tightening as he began pounding into her like a freight train. 

She was crying out in ecstasy seconds before her climax even hit. The feel of him ramming into her body so deep, making her breasts bounce with each thrust, was just too perfect, too incredible to hold back.

As she was coming down, he rubbed her clit in fast, tight circles with his middle finger, making her scream and fall over the edge again. She opened her eyes in time to see him throw his head back again, a harsh, prolonged groan ripped from his throat as he thrust deep one more time, and came inside her, flooding her cunt with warmth.

He shuddered a few times, hips bucking sporadically as he emptied into her completely before his muscles went slack and he crushed her even further into the couch.

She laid there, happily running her hands up and down his beautifully muscled back until he pushed his torso up so he rested on one elbow, looking down at her, and pushing her sweaty hair back from her forehead.

“How you doing, sweetheart.”

Y/N nodded dreamily.  “So good. Like…SO good.” She emphasized, making Jensen chuckle.

“Good.” He said, kissing her lips briefly. He shifted their position so that he laid with his back against the couch, stretched out on his side. He pulled Y/N back to spoon against him, tucking her head under his chin and offering his bicep as a pillow.

He nuzzled against her ear. “You were amazing, Y/N. This was amazing. I gotta admit when you ordered the bottle of water, I wondered if maybe you were just a bit too sweet for me.” He teased, chuckling low in her ear and making her stomach tighten pleasantly again.

Y/N reached over her head to grab his glass of whiskey. “Definitely not.” She said, arching a brow and taking a sip. The liquor burnt a path down her throat and she started coughing and choking almost instantly. Jensen calmly took the glass out of her hand and handed her the bottle of water.

His eyes danced and his smile was wicked as he watched her gulp down the water. “So, it might be a while before you’re ready to drink whiskey neat, but we can start with like, a wine cooler?”

She wheezed at him. “Good plan.” 

He laughed softly before lowering his mouth to hers and sucking the whiskey from her lips.

Jensen RPF and Any/All Characters:

@lyarr24

@lacilou

@deans-spinster-witch

@globetrotter28

@suckitands33

*

@alwaystiredandconfused

@evznackles

@jackles010378

@impala67rollingthroughtown

@krazykelly

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@candy-coated-misery0731

@envyaurora95

@spnwoman

@deans-baby-momma

@luvr4miya

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@arcannaa

@viviwatchestv

@winharry

@ladysparkles78

@kr804573

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Any/All Fics Regardless of Character or Fandom:

@kazsrm67

@slut-for-evans-stan

@sexyvixen7

@nancymcl

@hobby27

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@waywardcheshire

*

Everything Incl. Fan Edits:

@k-slla

@leigh70

@eevvvaa

@kickingitwithkirk

@foxyjwls007

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@notinthislife50

@roseblue373

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@avanatural

@mrsjenniferwinchester

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@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@deangirl96

@stoneyggirl2

@fanfic-n-tabulous

[bullet-prooflove]

Reputation - Donovan Rocker x Reader (NSFW)

Tagging: @oliviah-25 @luckyladycreator2 @crazy4chickennuggets @one-sweet-gubler @janeaustenlover @victoriajhyde @telepathay @genius2050 @irishavengersassemble @crimeshowjunkie

Rocker knows you have a reputation. You’re a good girl, one that follows orders with precision, who always play it safe. In the field no one has to worry about you, you’re solid and dedicated, loyal to a fault. You haven’t got a rebellious bone in your body, at least that’s what they thought.  

They didn’t know you the way he did. They haven’t seen that reckless side of you, the one that comes out to play in the depths of the night, they didn’t know you’re secret.

Rocker discovered it by accident. He’d been listless after the divorce, instead of hitting the same old places he wanted something fresh. That’s how he’d come across Noche, a club known for its ambience and music scene. It wasn’t like the other clubs in L.A with the booming beats that makes your skull throb, it’s dark, a hole in the wall shrouded in mystery and the perfect place for him to disappear for an hour or two.

He’d been on his way home after having a couple of beers with Stevens when he heard the serenade of a violin. He wasn’t into classical pieces but the music he was hearing was an entanglement of soft rock, something more his speed. The notes tapered over the drums, touching something deep down inside of him. He was enthralled by it, ensnared. He found himself seated at the bar, another beer in his hand, his attention drawn to the stage. His gaze came to fall on the violinist, head cradled against the instrument, and it was like he had been struck by lightning.

He knew it was you, he would know your stance, your movement, your posture anywhere. You wore a black sheer Victorian style top, with a high collar and long sleeves with a lace bralette underneath. It accentuated your body, showcasing the lines of your form as you swayed in time to the music. The leather trousers clung to your lower body as your hips swung from side to side. It was the first time he’d seen you with your hair down, normally you wore it in a plait or a tight bun but tonight it was gloriously loose. He wondered what it would feel like to run his hands through it, to kiss you on the mouth and smear that red lipstick you wore. Your eyes, always so expressive were framed with dark eyeliner, making you look just as dangerous as he knew you were.

You up on that stage right now, was the sexiest thing damn thing he had ever seen.

The way you played, it was dynamic and passionate. A sensual experience and he couldn’t tear himself away. He had no idea what you did after work, you played your cards close to your chest but he had never expected anything like this. He’d always had an affinity for the darker side of things, his marriage to Val had been pretty vanilla. The two of them had been college sweethearts but there were things he’d wanted to try, things he knew didn’t fit into her puritan view of sex.

He doesn’t realise you’ve noticed him until you appear alongside of him at the bar. Your set is over and he’s been toying with the idea of approaching you or simply slipping out when your hip bumps against his. The sultry scent of your perfume clings to your skin and it just adds to the allure.

“I didn’t think you saw me.” He says to you as you tilt you head towards him.

“You’re a striking man.” You inform him, taking a sip of your water.

He blushes, he can’t help it. No one has ever said that to him, Val used to call him her prince, it reminded of something out of Disney. The way those words roll off your lips, especially the term striking, it does something to him. He isn’t used to this side of you but he likes it.

“You wanna get out of here?” he ventures.

You smile, before tossing your hair back over your shoulder and giving him a look that makes him weak in the knees.

“Are you hitting on me Sergeant?” You ask him.

“How about we drop the titles for tonight?” He requests, setting his beer bottle down on the bar.

That reputation you have as a good girl, it completely goes out of the window. You ruin him that night, with an inquisitive mouth and fingertips that trail over his scars as your thighs hug his hips. You keep him on the cusp, drawing out his ecstasy until his fists grip the sheets and he begs you to let him come.

Not until I do, you had whispered in his ear.

Fuck he’d never had a woman straddle his face before, it was something he had always wanted to try but Val had never been into it, but you…

He had lost his mind when he got his mouth on you, you tasted like candied honey on his tongue, he’d taken you apart slowly, learning what you liked, what made you say his name. You liked it when his tongue delved deep, his palms grasping your thighs to hold you in place. When you climaxed, he didn’t want to stop, he sucks your clit before pinning you against his mouth and ruining you all over again. When he makes you come for a third time, he’s deep inside of you, his fingers threading through your hair as he grips it in his fist and pulls your head back so he can stare into your eyes. There’s intimacy in the eye contact and he watches your face, your lips parting as he makes you say his name.

The next morning, he wakes up alone, tangled up in his sheets with your lipstick marks decorating his skin. He sees you in work and it’s like it never happened, like he doesn’t know you sound like at the height of pleasure or how sinful that mouth of yours really is.

That night he turns up at Noche again, he sees you there up on that stage. You are a force to be reckoned with, a wildfire, untamed and untethered as you play, and he drinks it in. There’s an erotism to what you do, and it taps into something deep down inside of him. He’s like a moth to a flame, he can’t stay away, he doesn’t want to. Instead he clings to the nights that he has you, the ones where you’re his and only his.

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[rocknrollflames]

Hi, I’m new to the fandom. Do you have the list of the 30 day band list? I would love to participate. I blog about guns n’ roses, bon jovi & motley crue. I make gifs and write fan fiction but i understand that my writing style is dark and might not be for everyone. My favourite song of all time is rocket queen by guns n’ roses. I want to thank everyone in the tumblr fandom for introducing me to it. I look forward to hearing from you. 😊

Dear Rocket Queen,

So nice to meet you and hear from you! I'm so glad you were introduced to one of GNR's masterpieces, their best dance track, and their all-time sexiest song. And I'm so glad you love and appreciate it as much as I do. (You can also dance to parts of It's so Easy and Mr. Brownstone.) I'm always happy to know fellow Guns fans. (Well ... except pseudo-fans who like to dog on Izzy, lol. They don't enjoy meeting me. 😊 But they definitely don't forget crossing my path. 🤗)

Keep up the writing, and do your thing. I love that people write for GNR. I must admit I don't read much fan fic, so if you don't get any likes from me don't ever take it personally! I will try and read at least one, though! I also like Motley. I'm not a huge Bon Jovi fan, but had a friend from Kentucky who was a diehard! I do have a lot of respect for them though, and I LOVE Livin' On a Prayer.

I write myself, but can't say I know what my style is as of yet. I guess I try to add a little humor where I can, lol. But I love research, so I am working on a couple of non-fiction books, as well as a novel set in the 80's. Oh! I have written ONE fan fic, but I've never shared it! 🤭

Here's the 30-day Band Challenge. I got it from vancruejovi. I'm so glad you reached out and want to do it! Keep listening to Guns N' Roses, and rock and roll. 🎸 (Rock is not dead.) And welcome to fandom, DD. 😘 ❤️ 😉

Love,

Flames 🔥

[marvelobsessed134]

Vince had a sex tape that was released when Tommy and Pamela had theirs leaked

How come the media never got on him about that because its all over the internet to

Hmm I’m not sure honestly. Maybe because Pam and Tommy were like the “it” couple of rock n roll at the time and she was considered one of the sexiest women alive. Vince’s tape was a random threesome that I don’t think people paid too much attention to.

And I honestly didn’t know he had a tape until a few months ago.

[cosmic-hoboandthehighlander]

Look, I just want everyone to know that if you think dnd is just a bunch of cringey freaks who live in their moms basements and never get laid, awkwardly roleplaying combat scenes, you’re wrong

It’s actually a bunch of horny little weirdos rolling to see if they can score with the sexiest pirate captain, a collective of queers cheering on their half-orc criting their roll to rock their impromptu drag performance, a tiny little cat person throwing a dagger onto the arena during a steam skating match and nearly killing their team mates (who still won anyway)

Everyone has like, 4 d20s each just in case you gotta put one in dice jail, my dm has a tiny little set that you have to use if you forget your dice at home, and our favorite npc is a pirate named Smithy who straight up has half a wooden body.

And more often than not, you get a couple of these gems:

“Jonathan, you’re gonna be Gonathan if you don’t get out there!”

“So you’re less likely to be Gonathan and die! Do you like living?”

And my one of personal favorites… “If we keep waiting, we’ll have ourselves a little army…of idiots.”

[sca3a]

Despite everything - (nsfw) Jubal Valentine x OC

Siri was sitting in front of him on the couch, her legs on either side of the divan. She was dressed in a simple black t-shirt dress, which was hiked up to her hips due to her position, and Jubal could notice the  faintest silhouette of her lace panties - making his throat go dry.

He was sitting on Siri's couch, having decided that the easiest way to keep her safe was to stay at her place. She had agreed, but the smile she had given him made him know that there might be other… reasons as to why she wanted him there.

But now, sitting here, his heart's hammering in his chest. He has been dreaming of this for almost three weeks. Dreaming about her lips, the feeling of her soft curves beneath his hands, the taste of her on his tongue. 

Jubal's brought back to reality when he feels Siri's hand caressing his jaw, her thumb tracing his cheek. He looks at her, realizing that she's now kneeling on the couch, her other hand resting in her lap. 

He leans into her touch, his body already reacting. Tilting his head lightly, he presses his lips to the soft spot on her wrist. He can hear her breath hitching and he smiles against her wrist, loving the reaction he has on her. 

When he turns back to look at her, his mind's been made up. He reaches out and pulls her into his lap and as a surprised chuckle escapes her, he drowns it by pressing his lips against her. The kiss is careful at first, testing, but as he feels her reaction to it he pours all his feelings and desire into it.

Siri's hands come to rest on his chest, playing with the buttons on his light blue shirt. Her thighs press against his hips and he loves the feeling of her against him. It's like she was made for him - made to fit against him. 

Her hips begin to rock back and forth and he moans into her mouth. He's already hard, and he can feel his cock strain against the confines of his pants. Desperate to feel her skin beneath his fingers, he hikes her dress up and over her head, throwing it on the floor. His hands then begin to trace her thick thighs, her ass and up her sides. He gently squeezes her back rolls and the proceeds to lovingly trace her stomach rolls. 

Jubal notices that she squirms a little and it's at that moment he realizes that no one has ever treated her like this. No one has loved her like this - loved all of her. 

He breaks the kiss, and while holding her gaze, lets his hands caress her stomach, her breasts, her arms. Pouring all his love into his touch. He wants her to feel, to know, how attractive he finds her. How much he loves her. 

Siri kisses him again, her tongue battling his feverishly. She is making quick work of his shirt and pulls it off, throwing it on top of her discarded dress. Running her fingers through the hair on his chest, she's working her way down to his pants. 

Jubal helps her unbutton and unzip them, and he moans into her mouth when she works his cock free of its prison. He slips one of his hands between them, tracing his fingers over her clit. 

He can feel how wet she already is for him and hooks his fingers in her panties, moving them to the side so that when she rises slightly, she can guide his cock to her entrance. 

As she slowly glides down he can't help the guttural groan that escapes him. He moves against her, watching as her head tilts back and a couple of words escape her in her native tongue. Her, like this, naked and riding his cock, is the sexiest thing he has ever seen. 

His hand cradles the back of her head and guides her mouth back to his - he can't get enough of her. If he could survive by just kissing her, he'd swear off food in a heartbeat. 

Jubal can feel himself getting close, but doesn't want to cum before her and so his free hand finds its way between them, his thumb running circles against her clit. Siri moans loudly, her breath hitching at his touch. She's also getting close and he breaks their kiss, desiring nothing more than watching her facial expression when she climaxes. 

He feels it when she does, the walls of her cunt clenching around him and her moans becoming more erratic. Her head tilts back, her nails digging into his shoulders. But it's when she moans his name that he falls undone - utterly and completely at her mercy.

***

It's after, when they lay entwined on the couch, and he's tracing the lines of a tattoo that goes from her stomach, over her hip and up her ribs, that he feels at home.

"Was this your plan," she asks as she traces patterns across his chest, "that day at the coffee shop?"

Jubal chuckles lightly. "I doubt I had a plan," he replies. "But even if I had one, it turned out better than I'd ever imagined."

"Despite everything going on?"

He could hear the hesitation in her voice, and she avoided looking at him. He realizes that she must have lost so much to the man stalking her, that she's afraid to relax - to allow herself to believe that he'll stay.

Jubal cradles her jaw, his thumb ghosting over her cheek as he guides her mouth back to his. He kisses her, pouring his whole heart into it.

"Despite everything," he says then, meaning every word. "I'm not going anywhere."

[southerngirrl]

Still can't believe "The Queen of Rock n' Roll" has left us. Although she had one of most publicized and turbulent marriages ever known, I still believe she and Ike were one of the most sexiest couples to exist on this planet. ... 💔

[kneelesssharks]

Ramble On

Content: Eddie Munson x fem!punk!Reader

Named after the Led Zeppelin song that has the same name, but not necessarily inspired by the lyrics or anything.

Warnings: some swearing, reader gets knocked over and goes to the nurse but nothing graphic, over all pretty fluffy

A/N: i’ve been reading so much eddie munson fanfic recently because i l o v e men with that eighties hair rock hair with a punk style who has a thing for rock and roll, is a little stupid and an asshole, but is also a huge nerd, because that’s me. and while i love everyone who’s pumping out these fics for him i keep seeing people wanting to see him with a shy type or a really hyper femme type and i appreciate that and that those people are being represented with a character that they want to be paired with. but as someone who very much dresses in the punk style and listens to a fair amount of eighties and earlier classic rock who has a tattoo and dyed hair and piercings i thought ‘hey i’d like to see him with like me, i think we’d really like each other’ and instead of bothering someone else with it i thought i might as well give it a go. again i’m really not a super experienced fic writer and i have thus far only written harry potter but i wanted to dip my toe into the stranger things world. NO SPOILERS IN THIS.

Eddie Munson and you seemed like you were bound to be together, right? I mean you had the punk rock look, wore the leather jacket and the sturdy leather boots. If you weren’t wearing a pair of ripped patch jeans you would no doubt be sporting a pair of fishnets that maybe had one too many holes in them. You’d given yourself a couple stick and pokes before you turned eighteen and could finally get something more serious, and you’d put at least one too many holes in your body than most people around town deemed fit.

But somehow you went unnoticed by the leader of the Hellfire Club. Sure you didn’t feel the need to go walking around on top of the cafeteria tables at lunch, but you’d gotten enough stares just walking down the hallway.

Sure, maybe you and Eddie only had like one class together this year, and before he had been above you in grade so you couldn’t share a class. You thought he probably just saw you as an underling. Just someone else who went to this stupid school that would move out of town for good or be stuck here like the rest of them.

You weren’t shy, at least that’s what you told yourself. You could talk to anyone who approached you, give a compliment to a stranger, help someone in class, and besides some brief name calling no one really tried to fuck with you. You weren’t a pushover that’s for sure, but something about Eddie fucking Munson made your heart speed up.

Now Eddie had an entirely different perspective on you. He thought you were the most badass chick he’d ever seen. You walked down the hall with your headphones on blasting whatever cool ass music you had picked out that morning. He knew you had a major collection because of how often he’d seen you in and out of the only record shop in town.

You’d often worn the t-shirts from the band you enjoyed the most, able to hunt them down through some family in the city. Led Zeppelin, AC/DC, Quiet Riot, and Eddie’s personal favorite Black Sabbath.

He thought the pins through your ears were badass, and the small tattoos he could see were the sexiest thing on the planet. You were his punk goddess and he could only worship you from a distance.

Walking down the hall with your music a little too loud you’d been searching through your stack of papers to grab the one you needed to hand into your teacher when you’d run into something. Or someone, or multiple someone’s.

“Shit I’m so sorry,” Dustin exclaimed as he and Mike scrambled to pick up some of the papers you dropped.

You were laying on the tile in the hall blinking slowly up at the ceiling. With your headphones knocked off your ears and the back of your skull lightly throbbing you were slightly dazed. Dustin entered your line of sight waving a hand in front of your face. He looks up when you don’t make a move to get up and before you can register anything you see the man of your dreams lean over you. His hair falling around his face, his brows knitted together with concern.

“Y/n,” you hear asked, almost through a haze. Part of you can’t believe he knows your name, the other part of you is realizing you’ve probably been on the floor for a concerning amount of time. You move to sit up in order to save yourself from further embarrassment. “Hey,” Eddie lightly smiled as you slowly push yourself up, “don’t rush, you got knocked down by a couple natural disasters,” he joked.

You let out a soft laugh as you took Dustin’s outstretched hand to help you stand up. You’re a little wobbly on your feet but Eddie’s right there behind you, wrapping his arm around your waist as you lean a little bit too far to one side.

You laugh, “What had you two in such a rush,” you look between an embarrassed Mike and Dustin, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach for the fact that Eddie has yet to let go of your waist.

Mike rubs the back of his neck, “We were on our way to a Hellfire meeting before lunch.”

Well that explains why Eddie was so close by.

“Go tell the others the meeting can wait until after school, I’m taking y/n to the nurses office to get this bump on her head checked,” Eddie instructs the two freshmen who just nod their heads and hand Eddie the stack of papers you’d been carrying, before scurrying off behind you.

“You don’t have to take me to the nurse Eddie,” you turn your head to finally look up at the man, who’s currently laser focused on getting you to the nurses office. “It wasn’t that bad of a fall, I was just listening to Sabbath a little too loudly and not paying attention when Dustin and Mike ran into me. Really I’m fine, plus I need to get that paper to O’Donnell’s before lunch or she said it’ll be late.”

Really you just didn’t want to spend any more time feeling your legs turn into jelly because of your proximity to the long haired man, whose silver rings you could feel through your shirt. You didn’t want to spend anymore time thinking about how his hand fits so comfortably on your waist, his arm sitting against the small of your back and how he smelled just ever so lightly of weed. You’d found it funny really, how it just engrained itself into his very being. Around him you didn’t think you’d ever need to smoke, you felt higher than you could have imagined.

“We’ll we’re already here,” Eddie huffs finally looking down at you. You’d already been staring at him, and he had definitely caught you.

You quickly turned your head and pushed open the door to the nurses office, Eddie still supporting you as you walked in. The nurse just motioned to the bed for you to sit on it. You reluctantly leave Eddie’s hold to sit on the knock off hospital bed.

“What happened,” the nurse asked barely looking up from her paperwork.

“I-,” you started before getting cut off.

“She got knocked on the ground and hit her head, has a bump on the back of her head,” Eddie informed the nurse.

Setting her pen down the nurse stood up and made her way over to you. She used the small light to gauge your pupils to decide whether you had a concussion.

“Doesn’t seem like you have a concussion at all, your eyes look fine.” She pulls a glove on before gently pressing at the back of your skull, you wince as she puts pressure on the aforementioned bump. “You do have a bit of swelling here but it should go down by tomorrow, there’s no blood and doesn’t appear to be any scrapes.” Tossing the glove in the trash she tells you, “Make sure you eat and stay hydrated in case you have a minor concussion, but you should be fine.”

“Thank you,” you tell her, scratching the back of your neck. “Um,” she turns back to you with a questioning look, “could you write me a note for Ms. O’Donnell? I need to turn in a paper before lunch and,” right on cue the bell releasing classes for lunch chimes through the halls.

She gives you a soft smile before turning and writing the note. As she hands it to you you’re standing from the bed. Before you can really say any further thanks to her you’re being dragged out of the room by your hand by the boy you had forgotten was in the room with you.

“To O’Donnell’s room,” you say catching up to Eddie, who was still holding your backpack, with the mess of stuff you’d been carrying in your arms when you’d been knocked over, stuffed in. You were still holding hands and you could feel the heat in your face from the action.

“You know you’re kind of surprising,” Eddie says looking down at you. Your brows furrowed and you tilt your head. “What I mean is, you’re a lot more responsible than I would have guessed.”

You snort out a laugh. “Hey, just because I listen to heavy metal and rock music doesn’t mean I can’t still be smart. I just want to graduate man, I mean, I can’t stand most of the people around here.”

You stop in front of the now empty classroom of the teacher who’s class you dreaded the most.

“I’m the exception right,” he smirked, trying to play it cool but internally his heart was beating wildly like an animal in a cage. Your hands were still locked together, becoming a little sweaty from both of your nerves, and now you were standing face to face, just looking into each other’s eyes.

“Yeah,” you quietly breathed. You cleared your throat, looking down at your boots that were a little worn out. “You are.” When you looked back up to meet his gaze his eyes were shining and his smile grew from a teasing smirk into his beautiful genuine smile.

Feeling the buzzing in your face from the excitement and nerves, you grabbed your bag from him, letting go of his hand in the process. You felt a little disappointed but turned to go into the classroom anyways, one hand still gripping the not you got from the nurse.

“I’ll wait for you out here,” Eddie called out to you. You turned back to him with a small smile you were trying to stop from growing. You just nodded your head with confirmation.

Eddie had never felt better as he leaned against the lockers smiling to himself and staring off into the ceiling.

“What’s up with you,” Gareth asked, shoving Eddie’s shoulder.

“I just got an opening to hang out with the coolest, hottest, most badass chick in the whole fucking school that’s what,” Eddie boasted. “All thanks to those Dustin and Mike not watching where they were going.”

Gareth was about to question who Eddie was referring to when you quietly walked out of the classroom and stood next to Eddie, picking your flaking nail polish from your fingernails. With a nod to Eddie he just walked off laughing to himself.

“You want to sit with the Hellfire Club at our lunch table,” Eddie opened, after a beat of silence.

You nodded your head, adjusting your backpack strap on your shoulder.

He’d decided against initiating physical contact again, figuring that he’d already been holding your waist before he’d grabbed you hand. If you wanted to hold his hand though, he would not stop you.

Instead you’d elected to just walk at an easy pace right next to him, your shoulders brushing every couple steps.

“Thanks for taking me to the nurse’s office by the way,” your head turned to see him already looking you, “and for grabbing my stuff. It would have been a pain in the ass to have to go grab my stuff after everyone had walked through the halls and shit. Who knows if someone would have taken it, you know being one of the outcasts.”

He just smiled and knocked your shoulders together. “I think being an outcast is cool. I mean,” he gestured to himself, “look at me. I’m like the king of the freaks, I think they’re much more interesting people. Plus you’re like a total badass, no one would fuck with your stuff.”

You laughed, “You think much higher of me than most. I mean, yeah I definitely intimidate people but that’s because I walk around looking like I hate the world,” you laugh at yourself. “They think because you wear black and listen to heavy metal and like tattoos and piercings and shit that you’re possessed or some shit.”

“That’s a fact, but if it helps, I think you’re the second coolest person in this school.” You’re about to ask him who’s the first when you look up to see him smirking.

You laugh and he joins you, throwing his arm around your shoulder as you’re rounding the corner into the cafeteria.

Part of you feels like no one cares and no one’s looking at the two punks walking into the cafeteria cackling holding each other, and the other part, the part that can actually see people, knows you two are the biggest spectacle currently taking place. Following Eddie’s lead you just ignore them, letting him guide you to his club’s table.

All the other kids are staring at the two of you when you reach the edge of the table.

“Everyone, this is y/n,” Eddie present you to the table.

You just smile and wave. “I only know Dustin and Mike,” you state looking over the faces.

Eddie chuckles next you you, “Yeah your own personal natural disasters.” The two younger boys look embarrassed as they wave at you. Eddie goes around the table and introduces everyone else to you before pulling you down to sit next to him at the end of the bench. It’s a little bit of a squeeze so you lift your leg to put it over his to make you both more comfortable.

You can feel him tense up at your position so you lean over to him, “Is this okay? I just figured it would help with space.” When he turns you’re just a couple inches away, he swears you looking into his eyes like that was his new favorite thing on the planet.

He leaned down to your ear, “It’s more than okay,” his hand slid around your waist and your eyes widened a fraction.

Lunch with the club had been more fun than you’d expected. You’d normally eat lunch out by your car listening to music and working on homework if you needed to. You’d never pictured you’d enjoy a group’s company as much as you did with the Hellfires.

As lunch was coming to an end and you’d have to head to class soon, one you didn’t have with Eddie much to his dismay.

“Hey,” he grabbed your arm as you stood up with everyone else when the bell rang. Everyone else was waking away from the table with their stuff and whatever lunch trash they’d had, while you and Eddie stayed back. “Would you maybe want to go out sometime? Like go get food or go to the record store together or something,” his eyes were darting around you and his fingers were drumming a little beat against the table.

You smiled at how nervous he seemed to be. Like, how could the coolest most confident guy in school, the one who literally waltzed around on tables in front of everyone, be scared to ask you out. You felt like just a plebeian in his presence.

“Or you know you don’t have to or anything,” Eddie started standing up still avoiding eye contact.

Your eyes widened as you realized you’d taken way too long to answer him. Your hand grabbed his arm, gripping his wrist to stop him from walking away. “Yes,” you say quickly. You cleared your throat, “I mean, yeah, I’d love to go out with you.”

He let out the biggest most dramatic sigh of relief you think you’ve ever seen. “Oh thank god,” he sat down, draping himself over the table and the attached bench.

You laughed, rolling your eyes. You started walking away, needing to go to class. He jumped up and grabbed your wrist this time. “Wait, I need your number so I can call you,” he smiled. Your head felt fuzzy and your stomach was full of butterflies. You nodded you head before grabbing a pen from the side pocket of your backpack. You rolled up his sleeve and gripped the wrist of the arm that was still holding yours before writing down your number, drawing a little heart next to it.

“Don’t mess it up,” you wink as you walk back through the cafeteria to get to your class, passing period almost up.

Eddie smiled stupidly at the number on his arm, right before pumping fist fist in the air letting out a whoop in the practically empty cafeteria. He planned to call you that very night.

This was the start of something epic.

[slut4weasleylolz]

Fred Weasley x Reader (smut)

Steamy Showers 😩

LINK TO PT. 2: https://slut4weasleylolz.tumblr.com/post/660792325005590528/fred-weasley-x-reader-smut

warnings: smut

pairing: Fred Weasley x muggle-born Slytherin Reader

summary: Shower sex w Fred at Hogwarts. That is all.

“Hurry up, George will be back in less than an hour!” Fred said, rushing you up the stairs. You had just finished studying and Fred had just gotten done with quidditch practice. George and Lee went to grab some lunch, leaving you and Fred alone. Since Fred was gross and sweaty anyway, you figured this was the perfect opportunity for shower sex. “I doubt that. Him and Lee always end up hanging out after they eat and go to Honeydukes or something. We’re fine.” You replied as he was about to pick you up and run to his room. You couldn’t tell if he was rushing so much because he was genuinely worried about George coming home, or if he was just that horny. It had been a couple of weeks since you were able to get some time to yourselves, so it’s possible that it was the latter. You reached his door eventually, chuckling as he struggled to get the door open. As soon as he opened the door, he pulled you in ran into the bathroom, turning in the water. “Get over here, sexy lady.” He said sarcastically, raising one eyebrow and smirking like the idiot he was. You loved it, though. You laughed and ran to the door, immediately kissing him as soon as you were close enough. He had already taken his shirt off and you gently placed your hands on his chest. He crept his hands down your back, grabbing your ass. “Slow down, buddy, you wanna actually get in the shower first?” you said, giggling at his excitement. “Well…” He said looking you up and down. “Do you prefer to shower with your clothes on or off?” He asked, raising his eyebrows then chuckling. “You do the honors.” You said, smiling and closing your eyes, placing your arms up for him to take off your shirt. Smirking, he gently grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head. You undid your bra for him to save him the embarrassment and awkwardness. “I’ll get to you ladies in a minute.” He said to your boobs. You chuckled and pulled down your pants, underwear, and socks, as he did the same. Both of you now completely naked, stepped into the steamy shower. “Where were we, darling?” He said, breaking the silence. He leaned down, sucking on your left boob while gently squeezing the other. You tilted your head back and closed your eyes in pleasure. He began kissing up your neck until he got to your lips, kissing you as passionately as before, reaching down to grab your ass again. “You know, you actually do need a shower. You’re not fucking me when you smell like a wet rat.” You said, smiling softly. He gave your ass another squeeze before smiling and grabbing the shampoo and handing it to you. You poured a dollop into your hand and began to massage it into his hair, using your nails to lightly scratch his head, his favorite thing ever. After about a minute he washes it out and does the same to you. While you’re turned around letting him wash your hair, he slips one of his fingers down your front and starts rubbing your clit. You slightly arch your back against him, causing his erection to poke you in the back. “I’ll help you with that right after i wash this out,” you say, pointing to your hair. “I don’t want to get soap in my eye, it’ll make this really awkward.” You say. you rinse out the shampoo and turn to face him, running your hand down his freckled stomach and grabbing his dick. You begin to slowly pump him up and down as you watch his head fall back, making you hornier by the second. “Come here.” He says in the lowest, sexiest voice you’ve ever heard. He picks you up and pushes your back against the wall. You wince slightly at how cold the tile is. “May I?” He asks, smirking and looking into your eyes. “You better.” You reply, smirking back. He pushes you up a little more, then gently pushes into you, his dick hard as a fucking rock at this point. He gives you a moment to allow you to adjust until you tell him it’s alright to move. He pushes in and out of you, keeping you pressed against the wall (which, while very hot, made you feel a little insecure because it emphasized your tummy rolls quite a bit, which he couldn’t have cared less about). Cont. in pt. 2!

[nadja-antipaxos]

Bruce Springsteen's guitar getting stuck on Patti Scialfa's shirt. The second time he makes a big gesture of swinging his guitar away from her and she puts her head on his shoulder. 30+ years and they’re still so cute together.

“Tougher Than the Rest” July 27, 2024

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Love; for the First Time

Summary: Y/N's first time with Dean may reveal other firsts for both of them.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Smut. Fingering, Thigh Riding, oral (m/f receiving), hint of overstimulation, virgin!reader, age gap, loss of virginity, unprotected P in V sex, fluff, angst if you squint, Dean being the sexiest motherfucker ever.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Y/N

Word Count: 3,843

A/N: Okay, so here is the Masterlist for the whole First Time Series even though it's not a traditional series. But the stories are definitely more enjoyable if they're read together/in order. But if it's your preference, you can still read them on their own. I've started this one with a small excerpt (in italics) from the last part, since the story picks up exactly where it left off.

A/N 2: For all intents and purposes, this is the final chapter of this little one shot series. But I have a tendency to revisit my couples, so I may return to them in the future, you never know. But for now, I hope you've enjoyed this slightly odd "series" that isn't really a series. Lol!

The beautiful divider at the bottom was made by @talesmaniac89

“Please Dean.” She begged, dropping her forehead to his shoulder and rocking herself back and forth on his thigh. “I need you. I need…need…”

Dean tipped her chin up so she was looking at him again. “What do you need, Y/N? Say it.”

Her stomach clenched tight at the look of fierce desire on his face; she knew it was only echoing her own expression. With all the boldness he’d taught her and all the confidence he’d instilled in her, she lowered her hand to cup the hard bulge behind his zipper making him grit his teeth and growl.

“I need you, Dean. I need all of you. I need you to fill me up. I need you to touch me and make me crazy. I need you to make love to me. I’m ready.” She ground down against his thigh again, and her voice was ragged. 

“I’m so ready.”

Y/N watched Dean’s eyes darken, and his jaw clench. His voice was low and ragged, desire making it rough. But his words were reassuring, kind, loving - as they always were.

“Are you sure, sweetheart? You know there’s no rush, no pressure. I can make you feel good, make you fall apart, get you to scream my name even without going all the way.” He said the last with a grin, but his eyes still burned.

Y/N smiled and kissed him, commanding and controlling the kiss, so that Dean hummed in a tone of surprise. She pulled out of the kiss and rolled her hips, grinding down against his thigh again, catching her bottom lip in her teeth as pleasure shot through her body. She continued to ride his thigh, hips rolling, as she spoke breathlessly. 

“I know you can, Dean, and I wanna take anything and everything you give me. But I wanna…” She leaned her forehead against his and stared deep into his emerald eyes so he’d know she meant it. “I also wanna give you me. All of me.”

She shook her head. “I’m not afraid, I’m not scared or nervous. I’m just on fire, and I need you, more than I’ve ever needed anything - more than breath.” She rolled her hips against him again, hard and desperate, bunching her hands in his dark gray Henley, and speaking against his plump lips. “Make me breathless, Dean.”

She exhaled into his mouth, and ran her tongue along his bottom lip. Dean growled and then captured her mouth, plunging his tongue deep inside, nearly reaching the back of her throat. She whimpered slightly and his hands tightened at her waist. His mouth and hands flew across her skin. He pushed her shirt up over her head, tossing it to the ground before he dipped his head and nipped at the puckered bud of her nipple through her lacy bra.

Seconds later, he flicked open the hooks at her back, and ripped the garment from her body. His hands slid up from her waist, passing over her sides and then spanning her upper back so he could hold her in place against his mouth. He laved her breast with his wide tongue, before sucking on it deeply, and causing her to let out a harsh groan.

With her head thrown back she wrapped her arms around his neck and rode his thigh, drenching his jeans through her panties, her denim skirt now bunched around her hips. Dean moved one hand down from her back, shoving it between their bodies, and pushing her sodden, cotton panties against her sensitive clit, making her cry out again.

“God, Dean.” She rasped out. “Uhn, please, please.” She chanted into his ear. “I need you.” She repeated. Dean shifted to her other breast and bit gently into the soft flesh, making Y/N shout out in surprised ecstasy, and dig her nails into his back muscles, rippling beneath the dark cotton of his Henley.

“Dean!” His name was just a keening moan, and she felt him harden even more beneath her; his cock straining behind his zipper. It must have been painful but, ignoring his body’s rigid heat, he pulled away from her breast, and set his big hands on her cheeks to pull her into a kiss that once again left her breathless.

He shifted in the seat, scooping her into his arms, so he was holding her like a bride as he rose from the chair and walked slowly down the hall towards his room.

When he got there, he set her on her feet, and turned on the light. He wasted no time in shedding his clothes. She watched intently as inch after tantalizing inch of his skin was exposed to her hungry gaze, until he was naked and glorious in front of her. His cock was tall and thick, resting against his stomach and Y/N bit her lip, unable to look away. 

She wasn’t scared, she trusted Dean completely, but she was curious, because he simply seemed too big to fit into her body. Where was he going to go?

Dean’s voice was gravelly and tight. “Do you want to touch me, baby? You can if you want.”

Y/N nodded and then caught his eye; his expression said he was holding himself in check. His jaw ticked, and his muscles were strained, his fists clenching and unclenching at his side. She walked forward and reached out her hand to wrap it around his cock. He hissed and then groaned as she rubbed her thumb across the slit that topped the head of his cock. As she pressed there, a bead of white bloomed and then dripped down over his velvety skin. She circled her thumb around his spongy head, spreading out the slightly sticky liquid evenly.

Experimentally, she tightened her grip slightly and slid her hand up and down his erection. Dean’s hips bucked forward, seemingly of their own accord, and the hot, hard shaft in her hand throbbed, making her mouth run dry.

She continued to explore his body, running her hands over all his skin, and moving behind him to pet and massage all the beautiful muscles that rippled there. Feeling bold and encouraged, she ran her hand over his plump backside, squeezing it as she walked back around to the front of him. It was firm but giving beneath her hand and the feel of it made her heart race.

As she looked back up into his eyes, she reached forward once again to grip his cock, entranced as she watched a vein bulge in his neck as he strained hard, desperately keeping himself in check while she touched him all she wanted. She shook her head in awe.

“You’re so unbelievably beautiful, Dean.” She leaned forward, his dick still throbbing in her hand, and pressed feathery kisses across his chest. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes. “So, beautiful.”

Dean smiled warmly even as she felt his heart pounding beneath her lips. “I pale in comparison, sweetheart.” He said softly, tucking her hair behind her ear. Y/N smiled shyly and stepped away from him to shed her jeans and panties. She stood before him naked, and the blatant want and desire she saw in his face made her body glow.

She took up his hand and then pulled him after her. She turned to face him, walking backwards towards the bed.

“Make love to me, Dean? Please. Please show me everything.” She pulled his other hand into hers and placed them both on her breasts. She arched into his hands, and wrapped her fingers around his thick wrists. “I’ve wanted you for so long. I’m so grateful for your patience, for your good heart, and for the way you make me feel so safe.”

She ducked her head. “Maybe this isn’t the right time to tell you, but…I love you, Dean.” She looked up into his unfathomable gaze and admitted the truth. “I’ve loved you for a very long time.”

He didn’t respond immediately, and Y/N wanted him to understand something. “Please don’t think you have to love me back. I don’t want to scare you or pressure you. But everything here in this place, between us, has been based on truth, on saying what we feel, and leaving no space for lies. So…I just felt I owed you the truth.”

Dean’s expression clouded over for a moment, a deep furrow settling on his forehead, making a line appear between his brows. He reached out to run his knuckles gently down her cheek, shaking his head.

“It’s such a bad idea to love me, sweetheart.” She saw fear spark in his expression before he stepped closer and cupped his hand under her jaw. He pressed his thumb to her bottom lip and closed his eyes.

“But I won’t lie to you here either.” He opened his eyes and bent his head forward to pull her top lip into his mouth and suck at it gently. He let it go and dropped his forehead to hers, letting their breath mingle for a minute more before he spoke, so softly she almost couldn’t make out the words.

“I love you, Y/N, all of you and completely.” He shuddered slightly and the fear entered his voice this time. “It scares the shit out of me, and I need to warn you that there might always be a part of me that’ll be sure I’m gonna lose you.”

Y/N tried to speak at that, but he pressed a finger to her lips and shook his head. “No, it’s okay, sweetheart. I’m just telling you because…well, because no lies, right?” He shrugged. “I’ll work it out. And every day you're here beside me will be one more day to push away the fear.”

She nodded and tears sparkled on her lashes before spilling over. This moment was more than she’d ever hoped for, and as Dean settled his hands on her hips and pulled her against him, she felt the heady combination of love and want, lust and tenderness wash over her, making her dizzy. 

Dean ran his hands over the swell of her hips and down over her backside before he wrapped one arm around her waist and reached his other hand between her legs from behind, pressing gently at her entrance and making her legs give out. If he hadn’t been holding on to her, she would have melted into the floor. 

She threw her head back and let out a guttural moan as he eased his thick finger inside her. Dean took advantage of her exposed neck to lay a trail of blistering kisses across her skin. He licked and nipped at her pulse and Y/N felt like she might burst into flames as she rode his hand. She instinctively lifted her leg up to wrap around his hip so that he could sink further into her body. He added a second finger and pushed them both in deeper, pumping them faster, as she clung to his neck and panted, dewy and warm across the tattoo on his chest.

He scissored her open on his fingers, stretching her with a pleasurable burn, before pressing his fingers back together and pushing hard on the sweet spot inside her, the spot that made her see stars, and nearly pass out from pleasure. He pressed it repeatedly, until her thighs trembled and she clenched hard around his fingers, ripples of rapture spreading out across her body.

She fell, boneless, against him, and he scooped her up again to lay her out on the bed. Instead of laying beside her as he’d done in the past, though, he climbed onto the end of the bed, shuffling forward so that he knelt between her feet. He let his fingers trail lightly over her soft curls, and caught her eye.

“I wanna kiss you,” he dipped his middle finger into her folds, causing Y/N to lick her lips, her breathing picking up, “I wanna kiss you, here.” The rough pad of his finger pressed against her clit and Y/N raised her hips, trying to get more friction. But he pulled his hand back and simply stroked her sex, giving her only a tiny bit of pressure when she desperately wanted more.

“Can I kiss you there, Y/N? Can I taste you? I wanna see the view from between your thighs when you come. I wanna take you apart and feel you explode on my tongue. Want you to dribble your juices down my chin. Say yes - tell me I can devour you.”

Y/N listened to the heated, intimate, and arousing words that were dripping from his lips and all she could do was nod, and croak out her agreement. “Yes. Yes.” She said quickly.

“Good girl.” Dean said warmly, rubbing the delicate skin of her pussy, and scratching his blunt fingernails through her curls. 

He sank down onto his stomach, and his face disappeared from her view just seconds before she felt him lick a stripe, wet and messy, through her folds. She let out a completely shocked shout, having no time to recover from the unexpected delight of his talented tongue, before he was pulling her bundle of nerves between his lips and sucking lightly.

This time she screamed and clawed at his shoulders. It took him less than thirty seconds to rip her second orgasm out of her. But he didn’t stop there. He took her over the edge again and again, sucking, licking, nibbling at her sensitive flesh. The blankets and bedsheets beneath her were drenched and completely twisted from her thrashing body.

But Dean never slowed. His tongue speared her, it twisted in circles around her clit, the tip flicking back and forth against her. He pushed his fingers into her welcoming body once again, continuing to stretch her, pushing in a third finger slowly, inch by inch while his tongue licked patterns into her tender flesh. He did take her apart as he said he would, over and over. It wasn’t until she was a shaking mess, her body quivering and her throat raw from her shouts of bliss, that he finally moved his body up hers, settling his hips between her legs.

She could feel his heavy cock resting against her slick folds as he leaned on his forearms, his strong arms on either side of her shoulders, keeping her safe under his weight and within the shelter of his arms. He pushed her sweaty hair from her forehead and then trailed his forefinger down the bridge of her nose and then over her parched lips.

She opened her mouth and sucked on the tip of it, before she let it go to smile at him. “You know,” she told him quietly, creakily, “the first time I ever saw you, I remember thinking that your hands looked so strong, like they could keep me safe.” She reached up to take his hand, and pressed all four fingers to her lips.

She shook her head, her eyes shining. “I had no idea just how right I was.”

Dean nodded. “I will always, always do whatever I have to, to keep you safe. I swear it.”

Y/N felt a tear slip down her cheek, happiness bubbling over. Dean sipped it from her skin, and then moved to kiss her, soft and sweet. He took hold of his cock and slid it through her slick; the contact with her overly sensitive clit had her biting her lip and pressing her head back into the pillow. 

Dean kissed the underside of her jaw, and spoke softly. “Keep your eyes on me, baby.” She looked at him, her eyes unfocused with lust. “I need to know how you’re doing.” She felt the spongy tip of his cock press bluntly against her entrance. “No matter what, if you need me to stop, I’ll stop, okay?” 

Dean’s voice was strained and his muscles were tense with unreleased tension and power, but she didn’t doubt him for a second; so she nodded to tell him that she was good. “I’m good, Dean.” She pushed her heels into the backs of his thighs urging him forward. “Please, come into me.” 

Dean groaned at that, and pushed forward.

Y/N felt herself stretch as he moved into her; there was a mostly pleasant burn as he opened her wide. He entered her slowly, giving her body plenty of time to adjust to him. She could feel the way his muscles vibrated with his restraint. As he finally sank into her to the hilt, he groaned savagely and buried his face in her neck.

“Fuck, fuck.” He mumbled. “You’re paradise, sweetheart. Hot, wet, paradise.” 

Y/N chuckled softly. She knew the feeling. Having Dean joined with her so intimately, to be so stuffed full of him, to feel him throbbing deep inside her, did indeed feel like heaven. She couldn’t imagine anything feeling better. 

Then he moved.

He moved slowly and shallowly, pulling back barely an inch and then pushing forward again. Again the stretch of him burned, but the friction of his hard cock gliding over her pulsing core walls made fire explode in her body. She wanted more, she wanted him harder, deeper.

He moved slightly again, easing her body open carefully, slowly carving a path for more vigorous movements as he slid out further every time. Until he was pulling out all but the tip before rocking his hips forward languidly. He gritted his teeth against his need to slam into her, trying desperately not to hurt her. 

But thrust by thrust, Y/N was losing any need for gentleness. It stung a bit, but she didn’t care, she needed him to ram into her body, she needed to feel him so deep, he’d leave an imprint, brand her, mark her. 

“Please, Dean. H-h-harder.” She gasped out. “Please!” She begged.

Following her urging he pulled out almost completely and then slammed himself back into her so deep she felt as though he was breaking her in half. But still she didn’t care. She wanted him to break her.

“Dean!” She shouted, her throat raw and scratchy, “Break me open!” She cried, half insane from her unfulfilled desire. But Dean heard the desperation in her tone, and knew it matched his own. So, he began to jackhammer his cock into her hot, dripping, body, watching her closely as her climax built and then exploded across her face. Her nails dug hard into his sides where she gripped him, and he shouted out his pain and pleasure, as he continued to ram into her with abandon. 

He was vaguely aware that she came again as he pounded into her body one last time, spurting into her, hot and thick. It felt like his orgasm wouldn’t end. He just kept shuddering and thrusting, pumping more and more ropes and of cum into her tight, clenching heat.

Finally his muscles gave way and he landed heavily on top of her. He meant to move off of her, but before he could muster the energy, she wrapped her legs tighter around his thighs, and her arms around his torso, keeping him where he was - head pillowed on her breast, listening to her hammering heart slow down in sync with his own. 

They laid that way for a long time, basking in the aftermath. Finally Dean worried he was crushing her, so he very reluctantly rolled off of her and out of her body. Y/N made a incoherent complaint that ended when he pulled her across his chest. They both dozed for a while, replete and more at peace than either of them could ever remember feeling.

Eventually they roused, Y/N kissing Dean’s chest as she drifted in and out of consciousness before finding his nipple and licking. Dean woke fully and growled, so Y/N woke too, and began to nibble his skin. And they began again.

They turned to each other two more times in the night. The last time, Y/N was too sore to take Dean inside again, so he just feasted on her instead, licking her soothingly, and undulating his tongue against the abused entrance to her body, dulling the throbbing there while still increasing her pleasure until she came on his tongue. 

Then he taught her how to take him into her mouth, how to suck him tightly, and how to pleasure him with her tongue. As his climax crested, he tried to pull away so he wouldn’t explode in her mouth, but Y/N wouldn’t let him, trying to swallow him down completely. She came close, licking her lips and scooping up what slid down her chin.

The whole night was spent in intervals of fierce rapture and idyllic tranquility. It was the most beautiful and soul-fulfilling thing that had ever happened to either of them. 

When they eventually fell asleep for good, they slept straight through until one o’clock in the afternoon. Dean woke up first, a delicious kind of ache in his muscles causing him to stretch long, and groan deep, rousing Y/N with his movements. Being unaccustomed to such vigorous night time activities, her body ached more, and her pussy was raw and tender. She hissed as Dean cupped a hand over her gently. 

Contrition shone in his eyes. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m gonna go run you a bath, and we’re gonna make that feel better.” Y/N nodded, but pulled his mouth down to hers for a long, passionate kiss. 

They were gasping as she pulled away and grinned at him. “It was worth every owie.”

Dean grinned back and then began to get up, but Y/N sat up and pulled him back down beside her. She smiled at him, a little shy, but beaming. 

“Dean, I meant every word I said last night. And it was an absolutely perfect first time, I couldn’t have asked for anything more incredible.”

Dean smiled back and brushed his lips across hers. “Me too, sweetheart, me too.”

Y/N giggled lightly. “It was your first time too?” She said, pretending astonishment.

Dean chuckled, and then shook his head, his face becoming more serious. “It was actually.”

Y/N frowned at him, still smiling. “What?” she asked in confusion.

Dean looked down at his lap for a moment before looking back into her eyes. “It was the first time I’ve ever slept with someone…someone I love.” He blushed slightly, and Y/N couldn’t believe what she was seeing; her confident, sexy hunter looked shy and unsure for once. 

He cleared his throat. “First time I was with someone that I plan on making a life with.” He shrugged. “I’m not sure exactly how this goes now.”

Y/N smiled widely and climbed into his lap to wrap her arms around his neck. “Well, looks like we have tons of firsts to explore together then.” She kissed him softly and then smiled against his lips.

“First time for everything, after all.”

@lyarr24

The End

1 - Jensen RPF + Any/All characters Jensen plays.

@deans-spinster-witch

@impalaslytherin

@maggiegirl17

@akshi8278

@candy-coated-misery0731

@deanswaywardgirl

@slytherinlyn314

@globetrotter28

@jensensgirl

@perpetualabsurdity

@tristanrosspada-ackles

@djs8891

@muhahaha303

@kayyay1219

@emily-winchester

@recoveringpastaaddict

@maximumkillshot

@mimaria420

@sacriceria

@envyaurora95

@lacilou

@jc-winchester

@spnwoman

@mimi-luvzyu

2 - Dean Winchester Fics Only.

@carryonwaywardgirl

3 - Any/All Fics (regardless of fandom/character.)

@kazsrm67

@sexyvixen7

@alexxavicry

@nancymcl

@spalady26

4 - Everything (includes fan vid/DOOL edits as well)

@unabashed-lover-of-fictional-men

@maliburenee

@supernatural4life2022

@spn730015

@kickingitwithkirk

@waywardbaby

@foxyjwls007

@deanwanddamons

@deandreamernp

@deanwithscissors

@myloversgone

@snowlovespie

@leigh70

@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone

@charred-angelwings

@hopefuldreamers-world

@jensensgotyoudean

@thoughts-and-funnies

@magssteenkamp

@princessmisery666

@eevvvaa

@mishkatelwarriorgoddess

@waynes-multiverse

@mrsjenniferwinchester

@bernasaurus

@jensenslady79

@courtn92

@avanatural

@ellie-andthemachine

@this-is-me19

@roseblue373

@katbratsupernaturalwhore

@fanfic-n-tabulous

[royallyprincesslilly]

Title: Poison & Sin {1}

Nick Sagar AU x OFC Dove Albright

Warning: Tease, Mild Cursing, Plot

Words: 4.4k

Summary: Nick "Nightshade" Sagar is rich, he's sexy, he dangerous and he gets whatever he wants when he wants it. No exceptions. He says jump, and everyone asks how high, and for how long. There is a reason he got his nickname. He owns Vegas. 

Men are afraid of him and know better than to get on his bad side. Women would kill for one night with him. Four actually have. He loves that power. Everyone but Dove Albright, a background cabaret performer at Vegas's hottest Cabaret & Burlesque club, Poison & Sin. 

She is hell-bent on keeping him as far away as possible, especially since she is already in a relationship and wants to stay away from fire because she knows it burns. Dove's motto is don't rock the boat and keep your head up. However, the star of the establishment, CoCo is the polar opposite. Her motto is all eyes on me, and I can take your man if I want to. She wants two things, Nick, and to keep her coveted spot as number one at the club no matter what. 

Nick has something to say about both matters. His motto, I see It, I like it, I want it, I will have it and he wants Dove though neither of them can quite understand why, especially when she proves to be different from all the rest. She will be his and nothing will stand in his way. However, nothing is as it seems and there is plenty more than what meets the eye when it comes to Nick “Nightshade” Sagar. It is Vegas after all.

Note: We all need more Nick Sagar in our lives. Behold, an AU all for him. Also, I didn’t tag anyone because I am not sure who is feeling Nick Sagar. If you are feeling this, send me a message/ask if you want to be tagged for fics about him. 

As Always, thank you for reading! I appreciate the support. 

If you enjoyed this, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!  ❤️❤️

***Not Edited/Proofread***

***Interactive***

 ~~~~~~~~~

Tonight, would be different, you said to yourself as you glanced over your reflection once more. You took a deep breath and slowly blew it out, allowing yourself to get used to the weight of the crown atop your head. The thought that flashed through your mind was a cheesy one.

 Heavy is the head that wore the crown.

 In your case, it was an exquisitely made headdress that looked like it could belong to an Egyptian goddess. You’d seen the headdress tons of times in the closet where all the show costumes were held, and you’d trailed your finger along its gold spray-painted exterior several times imagining what it would be like to wear it in front of an audience as you performed the routine that CoCo did two nights a week. The routine that had every man in the audience salivating. You’d seen firsthand the compliments and attention she got after the set was complete. They were compliments reserved for her, not any of the background performers.

 You were one of the background performers and had been for the last year you’d been working at Poison & Sin, Vegas’s hottest and sexiest cabaret and Burlesque club. You’d been hired to compliment CoCo, the star of Poison & Sin—you all were. She’d held the starring spot for the last three years and no one had been able to dethrone her though many had tried. You’d never tried. You tried to do the opposite, stay unseen, show up perform, and leave every night with the couple hundred in tips to hold you over until your payday at the end of the week.

 Unlike the other background performers at Poison & Sin, you didn’t want the starring slot. You didn’t want to climb the ranks and claw, or hair pull your way to the top. You were happy enough to do something you loved to do every night—perform. You had your reasons for wanting to stay in the background. Still, you did imagine what it felt like to be the one drawing the eyes and everything that went along with it.

 CoCo got hundreds in tips just like the rest of you, but she also got showered by Vegas’s top tier. Ballers, CEOs, company Presidents, celebs, even NASCAR drivers who rolled through for the South Point 400 all showered her with attention, gifts, and extravagant nights plenty would dream of. Over the three years, she’d let it all go to her head. By the time you got to the club, she’d turned into a diva and fully believed her shit didn’t stink and all the background performers were beneath her.

 “5 minutes, Dove.”

 You nodded and took a few more deep breaths.

 Tonight, would be different, very different. Rather than being in the background, tonight would be your night center stage—starring. You did your best to drive away the nerves that tried to take over. They were trying to make you doubt yourself. You knew the routines and could do them in the dark, you knew all the songs and could easily make the pitch and your rapport with the other background dancers was strong, so you knew they had your back. There was no reason to be nervous, you knew that, but still, the nerves persisted.

 “You got this. Knock em’ dead,” you said to your reflection before you walked out of your dressing room—well CoCo’s dressing room. It was yours for the night.

 As you walked to the stage entrance, you said a silent prayer to the performing gods wishing for good luck and no slips or stumbles.

 “You’re gonna kill it tonight.”

 Glancing to your left, you saw Atianna one of the other background performers. Her smile was wide and sparkling with genuineness.

 “You think so?”

 “Of course. Come on Dove, you know every song, every step to every dance and you have that it factor. I’m surprised it took Thomas this long to put you center stage,” she clarified.

 A small smile spread across your face, and you tried to let her praise wash over you.

 “I also never knew why you didn’t fight the wicked bitch of the southwest for center stage. Yeah, she’s good, but you bring so much more to the stage.”

 Atianna and CoCo didn’t get along and it was all because of one sabotage move CoCo pulled on Atianna a few years back. Since then, there was bad blood and a hatchet that neither of them wanted to bury, unless it was in the other’s back.

 “Ready to bring the roof down ladies?”

 You and Atianna clapped once you heard Sati’s voice on your right.

 “Here we go.”

 You heard the club DJ beginning to hype up and welcome the audience and you and the others took your place on the stage waiting for your signals. While Sati and Atianna took their spots, the curtain dropped separating you from them. They would be opening first before you made your entrance. You sat backward on the chair, waited, and tried to get the butterflies under control.

 The DJ Carlos finished his welcome, and the music began. As soon as it did, most of the butterflies dissipated. You knew you had this. You smiled as you went over the moves in your head that Sati and Atianna were currently performing. The song was about being a woman showing and entertaining she was a god and anyone else was an imposter. The song screamed powerful and sensual, and the performance was supposed to exude just that.

 After about thirty seconds, you steeled your spine and braced yourself for the curtain to rise. The audience erupted into applause and cheers, and you knew the girls had hit their impossible poses that showcased their acrobatics and flexibility.

 “Showtime, Y/N.”

 Slowly, the audience quieted down and gave you, their attention. You straightened your spine sitting up then rolled your shoulders to the beat. In seconds, you bent backward touching your palms to the wooden floor of the stage creating an arch with your body. You brought your legs over your body flipping into a front split showing off your flexibility. A few catcalls echoed around from the audience encouraging you onward. Digging deep to overcome the last bit of nerves, you began the song. You followed the steps of the floor routine that you knew even in your sleep, putting all the emphasis on each and every move you could muster.

 By the time you were to your feet and dancing along with the other performers, the audience was engaged and focused on everything happening on the stage. You felt in the zone as you normally did with every show. The only difference this time was, you felt even more powerful. By the end of the song, you felt like you owned the stage. Seeing the audience give you a standing ovation your chest filled with pride. It felt like everything you’d ever dreamed of.

 The curtain dropped and you and the girls ran off the stage to change for the next set as the filler performers flooded the stage. Their job was to keep the audience entertained for the minute you and the other girls were allowed for changing. In the beginning, a minute to change seemed impossible but by now it was a piece of cake.

 “Keep it up, Y/N,” Archer, one of the bouncers said as you passed him on your way to the dressing room.

 “Thanks, Archer.”

 Not bothering to pull the curtain of your changing room, you unhooked your bra top, then yanked your next costume off the clothing rack and hurriedly dressed in half measures. By the forty-second mark, you were dressed and buckling your heels getting ready to run back to the side of the stage. Once there, the stage mother double-checked your outfit and appearance making touch-ups where necessary all to ensure you were one hundred for the performance. For this performance, you would be first out for half the song. You rushed to the stage and got onto the lowered glittery swing and hit your pose. Mike the sound guy lowered a microphone to you, then gave you a thumbs up to say you were all set.

 At the sound of the intro to the song, you took one final breath and prepared for the curtain to rise. When it did, you were welcomed by the applause of the audience. After almost a minute, their applause hadn’t died down and you couldn’t lie you felt like a damn queen because of it. You waited for them to quiet down to begin. When they did, Carlos started the track. You allowed the soft melody to fill you then you began singing. On the third line, the swing began gently rocking back and forth. You knew it was Leon, the props director taking charge of the mechanisms.

 You looked across the audience not focusing on anyone or anything. You trained your eyes to the bar at Deron the bartender and stretched your note. Deron smiled then winked your way as he held up a thumb. Keeping on track, you looked across the audience again. Your eyes passed a tall, dark, and bearded man and they kept moving but almost instantly they returned to him. Without thought, your mouth continued to move, belting out the ballad that was both hauntingly romantic and sad, however, your eyes were stuck on him.

No matter how you tried to look away and focus on the rest of the song to complete the show, you couldn’t. The way he looked at you made your skin prickle with goosebumps, your heartbeat quicken, and your throat tighten as if he held a grip on it. The most ridiculous idea popped into your head as the struggle to go back to normal continued. Was this man even human? He was gorgeous enough to be some sort of fantastical being. His dark eyes had to have some power, some sort of magic in them to keep you this transfixed. Never in your life had you struggled like this.

 He raised his glass to his lips, and you watched his Adam’s Apple bob as he swallowed. Then, your eyes instantly went to his lips that were moist from whatever was in the glass. Lips that looked prime for kissing, biting, and much more. He looked like a cognac man or even a rum one but only the expensive kind. Slowly, his tongue slicked out to roll across his bottom lip adding to the moisture that was already there. The tightness in your throat intensified making you almost stumble over the words you sang.

 “Get a fucking grip, Y/N,” you reprimanded in your mind exercising your control and stubbornness.

 With much effort, your eyed darted to the side but quickly returned to the alluring stranger in the audience. His head cocked to the side just a little bit and you watched the muscle in his jaw jump.  Again, your eyes darted to the side but strayed for a few seconds before again returning to him. He looked confused now with his wrinkled brow and half-smirked mouth. It wasn’t an amused smirk either, it screamed dangerous and lethal. Your stomach flipped and that was when you managed to look away just as you stretched out the last word and held it in a soulful high note, finishing the song. The audience’s applause and cheering were the rewards you received, and it was enough, but you felt like you needed to go anywhere that wasn’t in front of that beautiful stranger.

 The rest of the nearly two-hour show only intensified every single feeling you’d ever had. The way Thomas had set up Poison & Sin was as the show progressed its steaminess increased, which meant more and more skin was shown and the acts sexier and sexier. It drove the audience wild and made Poison & Sin really stand out. Every night the place was packed and made a killing. Tonight was no different.

 By the halfway mark of the show, the costumes you wore had less and less fabric and the dance moves became more and more suggestive. When you’d started at Poison & Sin, you’d told Thomas you didn’t want to do topless like CoCo. You were fine prancing around in the tiniest of thongs but when it came to baring your breasts you didn’t want to. It was a worry that Thomas would rip your application in half because of it but he agreed. You were going to be in pasties but after the first rehearsal with CoCo when you tried them out, she disappeared with Thomas in his office and the next rehearsal you were told you’d keep your bejeweled bra top on, no pasties necessary. You didn’t care why the change happened it was a win for you.

 With every song, the dark and beautiful stranger never tore his eyes from you. Though it made your skin prickle, it warmed your gut. Usually, it didn’t matter the effect you had on anyone in the audience, it was always best to keep it separate but tonight you liked that he didn’t look away. Somehow it made you feel powerful. It was an addictive feeling. That addictive feeling made you bold with how you glanced at him. Looking away became more and more difficult but the thrill increased with every glimpse and the electricity between you thinned the air in the club but only you seemed to feel its effects.

 Once you’d psyched yourself up enough in your dressing room for the topless finale, Thomas appeared with a message.

 “Eighty-Six the topless closer. You keep your top on and improvise. The girls know what to do.”

 That was it before he walked off disappearing once again. You stood there for a moment, lost. What the hell were you supposed to improvise with? Those who’d seen the show before knew what was coming. Anything else would be a letdown. As you sang the first half of the final song, you wracked your brain trying to come up with an equal or close to equal move. The last thing you needed was a review that said CoCo’s performance was better. You’d never see center stage again and CoCo would use it as ammo for every conversation henceforward. She already had a huge ego you didn’t need to add to it.

 As you got closer to the end of the song, you formulated a half-assed plan and prayed Marta the costume designer wouldn’t rip your head off backstage. Coming to the end of This is A Man’s World, you got ready for your ending. You yanked your bra, snapping the Velcro straps, tossed it into the audience without thought. You then bent forward hugging your leg quickly before anyone caught sight of your breasts. Looking back through your legs, you locked eyes with the stranger again. He was slowly sitting up at full attention, but something was different—out of place.

 Ripping out the jeweled feather fans that were attached to your knee-high heeled boots, you dropped down into a front split showing off your flexibility, then laid back slipping the fans onto your chest covering your nudeness precariously but perfectly. The arch to your back gave plenty of cleavage views and you were sure it looked sexy enough. No one in the audience seemed to realize it was an improvised ending. They were too busy clapping, cheering, and losing their minds. Most of it registered but then your eyes met the stranger again and you realized what was different. He had your discarded bra top dangling from his finger. The look on his face was an unspoken challenge, the clench of his jaw made him look domineering while his stance said one thing. Power.

 When you got backstage, everyone congratulated you on a great show. You were met with hugs, pats on the back, and plenty of thumbs-ups. The pride bubble in your chest was so inflated that you felt as if you were floating. Once you were in your dressing room, you stared at yourself in the mirror for a few moments before you exclaimed a soundless scream. You couldn’t get away with a full scream. You danced around relishing in the feeling of your first successful center stage performance.

 “Y/N.”

 Thomas’s voice outside startled, you cutting your celebration short.

 “Em, yeah?”

 “Great show!”

 You smiled again then pulled the curtain coming face to face with the red-headed owner of Poison & Sin.

 “Thanks. I know you said to keep the bra on, but you also said to improvise,” you rushed out hoping to smooth out your disobedience.

 “Forget it, you did good. I have an opportunity for you.”

 Your interest piqued. “Opportunity?”

 “Yeah. Normally CoCo is the one getting these proposals, but you were requested,” Thomas explained.

 “By who?”

 “A VIP.”

 That was all he said like that was all you needed to know.

 “What does he want?”

 “A private show of your talents,” Thomas replied.

 Your interest remained but your alarm was also up. That sounded very pervy.

 “You don’t have to accept but just know there is an extra 1k in it for you on top of your tips for the night.”

 Your eyes bugged and you had to fight to keep your shock at bay. Clearing your throat, you leaned against the doorway and thought about it. Every night CoCo got almost two and a half in just tips, and you’d seen her do a handful of private shows. It was possible she ended every night with at least six grand. With six grand you could finally finish rebuilding Rome’s custom GTO that was totaled in his last speed race. The car was his baby and you wanted to get it done as a surprise.

 “I’ll do it.”

 Thomas smiled then nodded. “All right then. Change, he likes black then get to VIP room one.”

 You nodded and went back inside your dressing room to rummage through the rack of costumes. You ignored your nerves and kept your eye on the prize, the pimped-out GTO. It won’t be weird, you assured yourself. Plus, this wasn’t a sex club he wasn’t expecting ass and pussy, maybe a sexy striptease. You could handle that.

Five minutes later you were standing in front of the VIP room dressed in one of the sexy black costumes from the rack and a belly full of butterflies. You took a few calming breaths and tried to call on your inner goddess who knew she was the shit to take over. After a minute you knocked twice on the door.

 “Come.”

 The voice was muffled probably thanks to the material of the door. Atianna told you your first week there that all the private and VIP rooms were made with material that was as close to soundproof as possible to ensure the privacy of the guests for whatever they wanted to do. On a silent prayer, you stepped into the room stopping in your tracks you hesitated, realizing it was pitch black inside.

 “Uh--.”

 “Come in and close it.”

 His voice said it was a command, not a request. He expected to be obeyed. Instantly, your danger senses turned on but that only piqued your curiosity more. Which one was higher? You didn’t know.

 “I will not say it again.”

 It was then you realized you still stood in the doorway, so you cautiously walked inside closing the door behind you and sealing your fate. Unsure where to go, you took a few steps forward hoping you didn’t collide with anything. A full minute passed with you standing there with your hands in front of you, toying with your nails. He didn’t speak not one word and you wondered how he planned to see you in the darkness of the room. Then you wondered if he really was a creep and planned to harass you in the darkness so you couldn’t ID him.

 “Relax. I don’t harass my women.”

 It was said matter of factly, with no emotion. His women? Your brain mulled that over for a few seconds before he spoke again.

 “What’s your name?”

 “Dove.”

 You waited for him to deny it as many others had. You’d gotten so many “no it’s not”, “you’re lying” to last you a lifetime. Though you waited for the words, they didn’t come which made you cock your head to the side and crook your brow. A deep chuckle came from across the room before it filled the entire space making it sound like it came from everywhere all at once.

 “Why do you look so confused?”

 “Well I’m so used to--,” you paused registering his words. Look? It was pitch black in here. There was no way he could see you. Right?

 Another chuckle echoed, this one sounded closer before it bounced back across the room. What the fuck, you thought.

 “Tell me.”

 “Uh—well--no one ever believes it’s my real name. They think it’s a stage name.”

 Silence stretched and you wondered what the heck was happening. This was getting weird.

 “I like it. I think it suits you.”

 Suddenly, the neon glow in the dark lights switched on lighting up the room like it was a Putt-Putt golf place. The sudden change had you blinking a few times as your eyes adjusted. Across the room, a figure sat cloaked in darkness. The light in the room looked as if it wanted to shine on him but it stopped right at his lap only giving you a view of his fancy black loafers that housed a lone gold chain across it. Gucci, you thought. His matching black slacks hung loosely at his legs but then hugged his thighs perfectly showing off how toned and primed they were for sitting.

 “You can if you want.”

 Your eyes snapped up to where his face should have been if it weren’t hidden.

 “Can what?”

 His hips lifted slightly as he readjusted his seated position, slipping a little lower. You held your breath in anticipation that the light would illuminate his face but just as his beard-covered chin came into view the light rescinded and he was again concealed from you. You took a breath and released harshly released it. It came out sounding of impatience rather than frustration.

 “Am I boring you? You are welcome to come over here and entertain yourself.”

 A weird electric heat zapped down your spine heating your body to the temperature of your morning cup of coffee. A quick thought of obeying occurred but it was gone after a few seconds.

 “You are an interesting creature, Dove. Tell me, are you seeing anyone?”

 Tell them what they want to hear, you thought. This was people-pleasing 101.

 “No.”

 A slight feral growl sounded making you stand straighter.

 “What was that Dove?”

 The urge to tell the truth overtook you, “Uh—yes, I have a boyfriend.”

 The groan of bending metal echoed in the room distracting you from him as you looked around trying to figure out what it was. Movement from his side brought your eyes back to him to catch him crossing his leg over the other resting his ankle on his knee.

 “Is he here tonight?”

 Again, the truth came out, “No.”

 “Why?

 “The sight of other men riled up looking at me makes him uncomfortable,” you blurted out.

 A disgusted scoff came from him. “Ah, a little boy who doesn’t know how to handle the beauty or true sensuality of a woman. A little boy who hasn’t grown into a man who takes pride in you unleashing your power—your goddess.” He laughed but it didn’t sound like he was amused, it was a sinister laugh, one that had a hidden meaning.

 You should have been alarmed but you weren’t and for the life of you, you couldn’t understand why.

 “Let me guess, you’re a faithful girlfriend to him.”

 It wasn’t a question.

 “Does he deserve it, Dove?”

 You paused hearing the question from him that you’d asked yourself a few times in the last few months. Your head felt muddled, hazy like it was filled with smoke, and it was making it impossible to think, impossible to hold to who you were and what you believed. The only thing you could focus on was the haunting voice that spoke to you telling you to give in. You closed your eyes for a few moments and tried to push through it, but when you looked across to him you felt as if the room was spinning, and you were floating through the neon colors in the air. Even floating through the air, you felt off-balance, but your logical mind knew you were standing firm.

 “Does he?”

 The voice was more sinister this time, almost sounding inhuman. The faint scent of cognac filled your nose making you feel like someone was in front of you, but you saw no one.

 “Does he deserve you?”

 This time the voice came from behind you, and you felt the heat of breath curl around you awakening something inside you that made you grip your head. As quickly as these feelings arose, they disappeared. You looked around the room. It was fully lit this time and you were the only one standing there.

 “What the hell?”

 You knew you were with someone just now, but the only evidence was an envelope sitting on the empty metal chair across the room. As you approached it, you took notice of the warped arm of the chair that looked like it had been melted or bent out of shape.

 “What?”

 Again, you glanced around. You were alone, the door was closed, and no other exit existed to this room. Pushing away the confusion, you reached for the envelope and saw at least ten one-hundred-dollar bills inside.

 “Oh my god.”

 You quickly counted it and gaped at the total, twenty-two hundred dollars. You dropped into the chair and scoffed. Twenty-Two hundred dollars for a conversation? He must be insane. A black card in the envelope caught your attention. When you pulled it out the smooth feel of it screamed expensive. It felt similar to silk or satin. Could it have been? On the other side of the card, there was a gold embossed flower that changed color to a deep plum shade when you angled it differently. You had no idea what it was and there was nothing else on the card.

 “What a weirdo.”

 Shrugging off the weirdest night of your life, you gathered the envelope and money then walked out ready to pack up and go home. Exhaustion was washing over you quicker than ever.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanna be tagged? No problem. Lemme know, send an ask. 

[90sstuffidk]

POP MUSIC : In Love With Courtney : She may be married and expecting, but Hole’s Courtney Love hasn’t toned down

(Rare? Courtney Love Interview August 16, 1992, Los Angeles Times)

An hour with Hole’s 1991 “Pretty on the Inside” album might be one of the most harrowing experiences in rock ‘n’ roll, a black, labored, twisted hour that is closer to a gruesome-sex Mary Gaitskill story than to anything you might think of as popular art, a slack, grinding hour that imprints itself on your consciousness like an extended fingernail-screech.

Most of the songs are about bad sex, bad drugs or a bad day at the abortion clinic. The most famous song from the album begins “When I was a teen-age whore. . . .” If “Pretty on the Inside” were a horror movie, it would be all the parts that you have to look at through your fingers.

Sometimes it is good to experience excruciating things.

On a quiet back street of Los Angeles’ Fairfax District, a quick walk from Canter’s and a stone’s throw from the hippest record stores on Melrose, Hole auteur Courtney Love sprawls in the living room of her groovy railroad-flat apartment, smoothing the week’s British music tabloids around her on the floor, listening to the new Pavement CD, tugging at her tight, black skirt.

At one end of the room, a line of well-worn books leans against the wall; on the floor by the couch, an exquisite thing in cream Atomic Age Naugahyde, is a vividly colored textbook chart of the female reproductive tract. Love looks up only occasionally, to say something snotty about the blaring music or to read a particularly juicy notice aloud. She puts down the copy of Sounds and picks up a New Musical Express.

Her new husband, Nirvana singer Kurt Cobain, has spent the afternoon straightening up. Sprawled on her clean living-room floor, Courtney Love is happy and in love. The British music tabloids have all mentioned her, she has a baby on the way, and she’s been signed to Geffen Records for a lot of dough. Love has more money than she can count and a husband the world desires, a singing voice that could crack glass, and cool pads in both Los Angeles and Seattle. She loves the British music tabloids almost as much as they love her, which is more than plenty.She reaches over to the coffee table and leafs through a packet of letters that teen-age girls have written to Sassy magazine about its recent Kurt & Courtney cover, half of which are admiring and half of which say that she’s a skank. Love is obsessed with people who are obsessed with her.

About a year ago, Everett True, the American-underground correspondent for Melody Maker, found something deep and unsettling in Love, and the English weekly ran a full-page article on Hole at a time when the band was still third-billed at small club shows in Los Angeles, its own hometown. True called Hole “the best . . . no, scratch that . . . the only rock ‘n’ roll band in the world,” and positioned Love as sort of the underground’s answer to Madonna. The rest of the British press followed suit.

Love, who does not think of herself as a beauty, was named the third sexiest woman in a recent Melody Maker readers poll, just behind Madonna and Kylie Minogue. Overseas, she is a paradigm of damaged slutty glamour. Over here, within the very glamorous world of underground rock, Love is notorious, and people who barely know her often gossip about her for hours.

But happy as she might be, at the moment Love is miffed. She shuts the latest issue of NME hard.

“All of a sudden,” she whines, “all these boys from all these papers are turning into New Man Feminists. Until they turn into something else next month, in which case they’ll take it out on Patti and Debbie and Chrissie and meeee . I was reading one of these last week, and every single article had my name in it. And it’s not like I’ve written a ‘Brass in Pocket’ or anything. It’s all because I took a couple of pictures with my eyeliner smudged.”

Love is to smudged eyeliner what Karen Carpenter was to denim leisure suits.

“This whole ‘underground’ thing is really scary,” she continues, twisting around her finger a platinum strand of hair, “because there’s such a frenzy going on right now, and the industry thinks they can purchase it and make it pay. People are offering a million dollars to these scruffy little dirty stoner bands. And--I can just see--it’s going to be like new wave: ‘Get that kid into an old sweater!’ What’s going to happen is that these underripe bands are going to put out these underripe records that nobody is going to buy, and it will ruin it for the rest of us.”

She stifles a yawn.

“I think there should be a standard, almost like socialism, where bands that deserve to get as big as the Pixies get as big as the Pixies and not any bigger because money will ruin everything. All the pomposity, all the crap . . . all the creme brulee.”

The phone rings, and she trips in her hurry to get to it. She says hello; her face contorts into the most remarkable fright-mask expression. She covers the mouthpiece, and yells out to her husband: “It’s Kiii -iirk from Me- tallll -ica, darling. How in the hell did he get our phone number?” before hanging up the phone and sinking back down to the floor in a slump. She puts her face in her hands.

“I’ve always been comfortable with notoriety,” she says, “but I feel like I married Bobby Sherman. It’s like that bad, you know what I mean: ‘She keeps him locked in the closet, and she doesn’t let him take his phone calls, and everybody knows they’re sitting around shooting smack.’ Y’know. Please. I’m pregnant, and it’d be my baby sitting around doing smack, my fetus, about eight inches, and it’s got little legs and hands. I am not stupid.”

(Then again, she recently admitted heroin use after she got pregnant to Vanity Fair. Or did she? See article on Page 54.)

She sighs: “You know, I think the worst thing about L.A. is how I’m somehow considered accomplished because I nailed a rock star. You know what I mean; that makes me scary, that makes me dealable with people. . . . Now Kirk Hammett knows who I am. And that makes me sick.”

*

Love, 25 or so, grew up near Eugene, Ore., spent some time in Los Angeles, hung out in Liverpool with cult new-wave singer Julian Cope, spent time in San Francisco and fronted an early version of Faith No More, all the while studying British music papers as if they were the Scriptures.

She auditioned for the Nancy Spungen part in “Sid & Nancy"--she ended up playing a minor role in the film--and director Alex Cox built an entire movie (the megaflop “Straight to Hell”) around her dark-star punk charisma. She heard the Replacements’ “Let It Be” and moved to Minneapolis for a while in the mid-'80s.

Minnesota was a place that she had always thought about.

Still on the floor, Love blushes. “I had a Bob thing,” she says. “People are ashamed of their Bob things, but I grew up on Bob. When I went to Minnesota, I went to Hibbing right away. It’s right near Duluth. I totally went to Hibbing . . . isn’t that scary? I went to the house, they had a little museum there, a Bob museum. I went to dinner a couple times with Jesse Dylan, Bob’s son--I was about 19 at the time.

“And then his uncle, Bob’s brother, owned a theater in Minneapolis. Me and my friend Lori decided to put on a show at that theater with the Butthole Surfers and like nine bands, and we overpriced the tickets and nobody came, and we lost a whole bunch of money. Biggest disaster of my whole entire life: I got on the outs with the Butthole Surfers and the Dylan family in one evening.”

Denied a career as a rock promoter, Love supported herself as a stripper, was in a series of all-woman bands, including one in 1986 with guitarist Kat Bjelland, who went on to form Babes in Toyland, and bassist Jennifer Finch, who helped start L7.

She moved back to Los Angeles in 1989 and formed Hole, settling on the eventual lineup of Eric Erlandson on guitar, Jill Emery (formerly of the Hollywood death-goddess trio Superheroines) on bass and Caroline Rue (ex-Omelets) on drums. (Emery and Rue recently quit the group; the band is more or less on hiatus until the baby comes in September.) Hole recorded the well-regarded “Retard Girl” single on the Long Beach indie Sympathy for the Record Industry, and the harrowing “Dicknail” seven-inch for Sub Pop.

Love talked Sonic Youth’s Kim Gordon into co-producing Hole’s album, thereby ensuring her entree into that in-group underground cool sort of vibe, which she surfed like an expert power-floating six-foot peelers.

After the British music tabloids got through with her, Hole became the subject of a major-label bidding war, eventually won by Geffen. Love seemed to particularly enjoy spurning a personal offer from Madonna to become the very first artist on her brand-new Warner Bros. custom label, Maverick.

(A representative for Madonna confirmed that the company did pursue Hole, among other acts.)

“Madonna has a clipping service send her everything about me,” Love says with a sneer, “and I totally figured out what it is--it’s like Madonna wants to be the goddess of everything blond. She wants to own any piece of the blond experience she may have forgotten about--in my case the rape victim/battered child persona--and she wanted to swallow me whole.

“I could never have worked for Madonna, because she’s too short, and she’s never been a fat girl, and she has like this Napoleon thing going. I could never deal with a boss that has never been fat. But Madonna has got good taste in art. And she also, like, knew some of my lyrics by heart. To me, that was amazing.”

Love lifts herself off the floor and walks over to the CD player in the next room, where she takes off Pavement and puts on the Tori Amos piano-ballad version of Nirvana’s “Smells Like Teen Spirit.”

Cobain appears from the next room, wearing a moth-eaten fuzzy sweater, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, and imitates high-voiced Kirk Hammett trying to persuade him to go on tour with Metallica and Guns N’ Roses. “We’ve gotta wipe the stage with the Gunners, maaaan ,” he whines, and then dissolves into smirking laughter.

She reads him some of the better items about them that have appeared in the week’s tabloids. He grabs Melody Maker and reads some back to her. They share a perfect, quiet media moment together, man and wife and newsprint. Then Cobain leaves to have supper with his friend Mark Lanegan of the Screaming Trees, and she takes off the Amos album and replaces it with the new one from Teenage Fanclub. “Have you heard this band?” she asks. “They’re trying to sound exactly like my husband.”

Love settles onto her Naugahyde couch.

I have this thing about me, this catalyst, that brings out hate in people, and I wonder about it,” she says. “I think I may have always worn it around me, I think it is why I was always picked on, which is why I don’t blame anybody. No matter where I go, or what context I’m in, I seem to provoke people, and I enjoy it. I was the ultimate Christ of the schoolyard. “One night at the Underworld in London, on our first English tour, there was this entire contingent of guys who kept yelling, ‘Slut, whore,’ and I dived on them, and they just shoved their . . . it was intense. I got (groped) by the crowd, and it was very insane. And I got back up on stage with nothing on, and then they rushed the stage and started grabbing us, and Jill and Caroline just couldn’t deal with it. That’s why they’re not in the group anymore. . . . I want a bass player who will be like Elvis Presley. I want a bass player who will stand on stage in front of 80,000 people with her shirt off.”

Bigger than the Pixies, then!

“A few months ago I went to Martin Luther King Day at my old junior high in Eugene, which used to be an ass-kicking, Led Zeppelin, evil, stoner high school,” she says. “Now all the girls are like Sassy readers with Nirvana shirts and little dreadlocks and nose rings. My God! No matter what has happened, no matter the order of being, if the charts were just and fair and the Pixies and Nirvana and Hole were the most . . . I’d probably start listening to Poison. I don’t want utopia, I want cacophony.”

[waugh-bao]

Matt Lauer: Let me get a couple of adjectives out there that have been used to describe this band. 'The sexiest band in rock 'n roll.'

Charlie: Yeah!

[ramp-it-up]

Scene Stealer

Pairing: Rafael Casal x Reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: Minors DNI, a little angst, some language, a smidge of jealousy, but mostly just fluff! No smut! 😃 All errors my own.

A/N: This an ask from @wreakhavoconmacroissantdiggs for the Show Runner AU.  I really love these two. Hope you enjoy, Loves! 💚

Read the previous part, Sundancer .

Hi lovely! Idk if your still doing requests right now? If you are can I have a fluffy/soft-ish moment between Rafa and reader? In the Showrunner AU and reader is actively filming a scene and Rafa's being difficult, lol

Your relationship was the talk of the town, especially since you accompanied Rafael on the red carpet of his latest win; it also happened to be your first nomination.

Ever since you went public, you were content with being ‘partners.’ You, especially, said there was no need for anything more. You didn’t want to tie Rafael to you, because you didn’t own him. 

Art was the most important thing, not a conflict diamond and a piece of paper.

Rafael quickly agreed. After all, it had been his manifesto. You two had a perfect understanding. Until you got this role. 

This gig required you to dance, and you hadn’t used your classical training in a while. You were nervous as hell.

“Who does music videos with this big a budget any more?”

You just rolled your eyes as Rafa as he delivered the shade. He would never outright say that he didn’t want you to do it; he always supported you, but you could tell it bothered him.

There was a slight tension in the air in the days leading up to filming, but you both pretended nothing was up. You were busy with rehearsal, so you brushed the thoughts of this shift in your relationship aside.

Maybe he was a little tight because you told him that the singer could definitely get it during a cast party before you two were a thing. Except in Rafael’s mind. 

Rafa had taken mental notes on everything about you, and this one he didn’t forget. But, he loved you, and he was going to ride for you.  Right?

----------------

On the day of the shoot, Rafa pulled up to the studio at about 1:30. He agreed to meet you there when you invited him for moral support.  You’d been there since 11 am.

He shook his head to himself as he was shown to your dressing room, lamenting the fact that he didn’t bring Diggs, because he would be the one needing moral support today.

Rafael knocked on the door and heard you say, "Come in!"

He walked in and saw you in a big, poofy, but short wedding dress. A more elaborate ballet tutu, but still definitely a wedding dress. Rafael was thrown for a loop, so he just stood there, taking you in.  He felt like he was breaking a rule, looking at you in this dress.

You looked absolutely amazing.

The make up artist was working on you, but you turned around and grinned when you saw him in the mirror.

Rafa felt like he needed to sit down. 

"What do you think?"

Rafael actually couldn't think. He looked down and noticed that you had your pointe shoes on. They matched your skin tone perfectly and extended your lovely legs. 

He began to feel warm, a heat which began in his chest and radiated throughout his entire torso. But he was a thug.  He tried to express it.

"You look beautiful...." 

His throat was dry. What the fuck was wrong with him?

To you, Rafa looked a bit like a fish, his mouth opening and closing with no sound coming out.

"What?" You cocked your head at him.

Rafa recovered and moved toward you. ‘Keep your cool,’ he thought.

You  shrugged at him, turned back around to the mirror, and continued. 

"I would never actually wear anything like this. It's too poofy and big. Too princess-y. Not my style." You grimaced.

"You look beautiful." It finally came out.

Rafael smiled, feeling an overwhelming desire to kiss you. The makeup artist exited and Rafa was left staring at you in the mirror again. You were a vision. 

He cleared his throat, deciding to lighten the mood.

"Can I climb under that dress and do what I want to do?"

You threw your head back and laughed. Once again, Rafael was caught in your spell.

"I'm working babe, but we can arrange something later..."

‘Whatever you say, my love,’ Rafael thought. 

But what he said was, "Cool."

--------

When filming started, Rafael stood out of the way behind the camera to watch. It was a church scene and apparently what you had to do was dance down the aisle to the altar for the wedding scene.

You were lowkey checking for Rafa, and everytime you looked over, he was glowering at you, the set up, or back seat directing. You could read him like a book, and he was not amused or positive about this.

That only made you more tense and out of the zone. You began to regret inviting him.  What was his problem? Was he jealous? He was being an ass, and you were going to tell him about himself later.

You ignored him as you stretched to get ready for another take. You were not going to let him ruin this for you.

---------

Rafael saw you and melted. He watched, mesmerized, as you danced toward the star of the video. Rafael’s heart clenched when you reached them and kissed them lightly on the lips. 

It happened at least six times for the different takes and angles, and Rafa had visions of dragging you away from there, but he remained calm.

Rafael had no idea that his emotions were so loud. All pretense, all acting skills, all professionalism went out of the window the moment he saw you in that wedding dress.  

He just did not think this production was up to the standard of you. And he caught on to the interactions between you and the star of the video between takes. It was not cool

You  ran through a couple more takes and finally it was time for the last scene, the love scene.

You were whisked back into your dressing room for a wardrobe change. Rafa paced up and down in the hallway to calm himself down. After a few minutes he thought it worked.

Until you came back out.

You were in the sexiest black nightgown he'd ever seen. And those heels. You looked hot as fuck. But when he looked into your eyes, it was clear that you were terrified. 

"Rafa, I don't think I can do this. I'm not feeling it…” Nerves were getting to you. 

“They are sooo not like I thought they were. They're kind of…. There’s no chemistry. And I’m a hack actor if I can’t do this…”  You bowed your head, ashamed.

Rafa hooked his fingers under your chin and brought your head up. He looked at you sternly. He was angry. But not at you.

“Energy up. Expectations down.” 

You tried to respond with a brave smile, but you were really about to burst into tears. Rafael grabbed your hand and pulled you back into your dressing room. He made sure to lock the door.

You thought you knew what he wanted.

“Rafa, we don’t have time for that, I…”

“C’mere.”  

Rafael hushed you and grabbed your hand, pulling you into his embrace. His large hand was on your lower back, and he held your other to his chest, beginning a slow dance to music only he could hear.  

You looked up at him quizzically and raised your eyebrow.

“Rafa, what…”

“I know that we talked about not seeing the need for marriage in this crazy world, and that we are married to our art, but take a little mind excursion with me…”

You fell into rhythm with him as he began to whisper-sing “Hideaway.” 

…See you’ve had the wrong plan

been sipping the wrong wine

Ay ay… let me put you on my vibe.

“Imagine we’re dancing at our wedding…”

You snapped your head up and looked in his emerald eyes. They twinkled down at you.

“I said, ‘imagine.’ This is just an exercise.”

“I would write a new song just for you and sing it while we’re dancing and get you wet for me but make you wait until after we party all night with our friends to get some.”

He smiled down at you and you were with it, getting into the fantasy. You swayed with him a little longer and smiled back up at him. Rafael’s stomach flipped.

So of course he twirled you away from him and back into his arms. His hand moved down your back to your ass.

“Seeing you in this would be the perfect wedding present. Imagine me waiting on you, not wanting to wait any more to touch you, taste you. Make you a mama.”

You stopped and stared at Rafael.

“….That’s quite the imagination you have there…”

Rafa stared back at you. “I am a creator. I create wild musings.” He turned you around to face the mirror. 

“Use it.” 

He put his hands in your satin covered hips. 

“Pretend you’re a woman who would want that. Marriage. A husband who would cherish you and try to make you happy.” 

Rafael bent down to hug you from behind, pressing his cheek aside yours.

You gazed at your reflections in the mirror. In that moment at least, you were that woman.

Rafael kissed your neck. You closed your eyes and you felt it before you opened them, but when you did, he had stepped away.

“Now go out there and pretend that person is what that woman wants.” Rafael looked at you in that way one more time before he cleared his throat and looked down.

You straightened up and walked toward the door. 

“Thanks for the fantasy, Cash.” You looked back at him.

Rafa winked at you. “Anytime.”

——-

Three hours later, after you’d killed the scene and production had wrapped, Rafa waited for you in the parking lot, smoking and dialing Diggs on the phone.

“Whattup. D. I need you to talk me out of buying a rock.”

--------

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