#ash no exit x reader

[rae-gar-targaryen]

Oooh for the dirty drabbles 21 for Ash (and maybe a bit of 32?)

You win. THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A BLURB. PLEASE ENJOY --

heated and hollow, just how you like it [ash garver ("no exit") x fem!reader]

Summary: Here’s hoping your neighbor from down the hall with the sinfully dark eyes and the glimmering, shark-tooth smile is all smooth talk, and no action (he isn’t). I hope you don’t mind the bitterness of dark chocolate in your teeth, and that you have the chance to catch your breath – baby, you’re gonna need it. Based on the prompts “bite me,” “if you insist;” and “you wanna have sex with me” (the latter is slightly modified for flow, sorry.)

Pairing: Ash Garver [“No Exit”] x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.6k (THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A BLURB) of an encounter as heady as perfume and bitter as black coffee, of viper venom in your veins, dragging your bones beneath the bounds of trouble .

Warnings: smut, so 18+ ONLY – p in v sex, unprotected sex, dubious/fearful sex (it’s dark, okay? He’s not a nice man), allusions to oral sex (fem!receiving), biting, mild choking, some degradation, coming inside (and f*cking it back in – WHO AM I). IM SO SORRY.

--

It’s like this: Your neighbor Anita is perfectly pleasant. She holds the door for you when she sees you coming with arms laden with grocery bags. She brings you cookies she’s baked for your floor every holiday season. Sure, she can be a little noisy for your taste – you could do without the pulsing of your shared wall on nights she throws parties – but what neighbor was perfect?

And, speaking of her parties, she always, always invites you, no matter how many times you’ve refused in the past. Yeah, Anita is goddamned neighborly. And, honestly, you felt bad for turning her down so many times when she was just trying to be nice. You concede. 

So, here you are, on a Friday night – one you would typically spend curled up on your couch with a glass of red wine and your favorite soft, stretchy joggers. Swapped out in favor of a high-waisted, front-buttoned leather skirt that your friend had insisted on you buying, and you insisted you’d never have occasion to wear. Standing in one corner of Anita’s too-hot apartment, the dimmed overhead ambience cut through with strung-up little twinkling party lights. A red Solo cup of Anita’s “famous” (she had assured you, as she pressed the cup into your hands with her mildly sticky fingers) punch, sipping every so often so as to appear busy. 

What was the appropriate time to stay at these things before you left? 

You’d had a day. The coffee shop near your office was closed, relegating you to the unsatisfactory bitterness of pre-prepared office coffee. You had missed lunch. You had been on the receiving end of a few choice passive-aggressive emails today. A guy had leered at you on the bus home (and no matter how much you’d wanted to snap at the creep, you didn’t have a death wish.) And to top it all off, you arrived home just in time to remember that you had agreed days before to be at this party, when you’d much rather relax in silence in your bathtub, in your home – you know, where your stuff was and where other people weren’t. 

And as you glanced around the room of packed-in partygoers (most of whom you assumed were friends of Anita’s), you made eye contact with him. 

Him.

Your neighbor from the opposite end of the hall. You were quick to glance away out of self-preservation, lest he think you were staring, while you tried to place a name to an admittedly devastating face.

What was his name? Andy? Adam? Something with an A…

“Hi,” a tanned hand entered your periphery, interrupting your musings and shaking you from your reverie. If you hadn’t been so busy worrying about remembering your neighbor’s name, you might have noticed that he made his way over to you, now standing before you with a hand waiting expectantly for you to shake. “I’m Ash.” 

Ash. That was it. 

You gave him your hand and your name, trying not to belay any of the molten gold rushing through you at the way your hand felt so warm in his (was that just the heat of the room, or was it him?), or at the way your name sounded from his lips as he repeated it back to you, before sidling to your side and taking a drink from his own cup, dark, glimmering eyes taking you in over the rim, never leaving you.

"I know," he admitted, leaning into your space to do it, lips just shy of your ear – and, in all honesty, probably too familiar for someone who had just introduced himself to you. Even if you saw him most every day.

"Know what?" You query. And really, you'd only been here for a bit, but the combination of the dim lights, the music, the punch, and now the man in front of you was doing a bit of a number on your better senses, heated and hazy.

"Your name," he smiled. Although, smile would imply congeniality, grace. The show of teeth was flattering, charming, brilliant, even on his angular face. But it wasn't… friendly.

 A Cheshire's grin, sinful and smirking. Potentially predatory, pernicious and pithy. Almost… pornographic, really, if you associated sexual attraction with flashing warning lights. 

And, you supposed, you had seen him seeing you, week after week, by the mailboxes. Out of the corner of your eye, like a shadow looming, before you slip back into your apartment. Unsettling. As if he was hoping to catch something of your correspondence, what packages you received from week to week. Something about you.

"And what else do you know?" You breezed, taking another sip of the sickly-sweet concoction, appraising the man before you – his inky dark curls shining in the low light, the flirtation of a solitary curl teasing and tempting along his forehead.

��I know that you wanna get out of here,” Ash’s voice was a little too smooth, a little too easy, still crowding you in the dark corner you were occupying. He paid you the courtesy of the swooping up-and-down of obsidian, oilslick eyes roving your form, biting his lip in brief pause before continuing. “You put on that skirt, but you keep eyeing the door like you can’t wait to make a break for it.” 

“Parties aren’t really my thing,” you conceded, turning to place your now-empty cup down on any available surface, when Ash’s arm met the wall beside your head, boxing you in and invading your senses with the woodsy smell of his aftershave. 

“So you do wanna get out of here,” his eyes flicked from yours down to your lips. “How about it? With me?” 

So, now, what did you know? You knew that he was smooth. He eased his way through conversations with your neighbors, through the building’s common spaces, with a facile air hat urges the edge of something, something like “charm, but practiced,” as though he had studied how to smile. How to seem just-so. And, like you said,  always, always on the edge of your peripheral vision. 

And maybe… maybe … maybe if you weren’t a drink-on-an-empty-stomach deep, and if your gut wasn’t already in knots at the heat coursing through you, you might have been more wary of him. Had overheard him once telling the old lady across from him that he was “originally from San Fran,” when you knew that no self-respecting California native ever referred to it that way  – it was always “SF,” or “The City.” 

But Ash’s lips on the shell of your ear were causing your skin to tingle to your toes – you nevertheless clung to your better senses by the very tips of your fingers when you replied with a snort, 

“Oh, bite me,” you rejoined, a playful roll of your eyes so as not to too-deeply offend. 

His responding grin was fully-predatory now, glimmering and shining teeth … waiting to devour. 

“If you insist,” he purred. 

And Ash does not just devour. (At least not yet.) Ash overwhelms, like a capsizing wave, the way he ushers you through your neighboring apartment door – crowding you in with strong arms and a solid frame in your interior hallway, pulling at your lips with his own, nipping your lower lip between those hunter’s teeth, groaning at the feel of you as he pressed a warm thigh between yours, parting your legs. 

His hands are warm on the peaks of your cheeks as they trail down to the hollow of your throat, tugging at the loose collar of your oversized sweater, taking in the flash of your crimson bra adorning your bare shoulder. 

“Aw, Cherry,” he breathed, the new moniker spilling from him as his full lips pressed to your neck. “That’s a pretty little piece of red.” 

He shucks the sweater from you, exposing your chest encased in the red lace to his narrowed, glittering gaze, drawing a heated hand down to your thigh and beneath your skirt, up, up, up to meet the clothed heat of your center, taking in the gasping part of your lips at his touch, your response garnering a smirk from him before devouring your lips with his own.

Ash maneuvered you through your living space to your bedroom as though he’d been there before – and how was that possible? What should have unsettled you tipped out of your head as Ash’s mouth fused to yours, his fingers roving purposefully along your clothed slit before he guides you back onto your bed. Thoroughly melted, despite not even having really touched you. 

“C’mon, Cherry,” Ash goaded, withdrawing his hand from your center, looking down his nose at you, and smirking at your resulting whimper, “I’ll touch you if you tell me you really want it.” 

And in the low light of your bedroom, you could swear his inkwell eyes, though heated, were empty – as though he was seeing you without really seeing you, taking in every inch of you with jet-black gaze and sinful touch alike as he roved covetous fingers over your form, drawing whimpers from your throat. 

And, if you were keeping track, this would be well-past strike three. But who could keep track when he was touching you like that? – Still … 

“I – I don’t even know you,” you sighed as his hands cupped your tits through the lace of your red bra, heated thumbs tweaking your nipples. 

“No,” Ash hummed his agreement as he swarmed over you again, drawing the bridge of his nose across your throat, lips following to trail the fine line of your neck, feeling the hum of your pulse beneath his lips. “But you still wanna fuck me. I see you, pretty girl,” his lips press again to the column of your throat. 

His hands are beneath your skirt again, shucking it up to expose your panties, half-hard already at the sight of you, in what is now clearly a matching set – all wrapped up like a gift for him. And maybe, just maybe, if he’d had his way, he would tie you up with a bow. And the thought of tying you up, the sweet, quiet little thing from down the hall – all gasping breaths from full lips, all wide, doe eyes – was sinful. And Ash was no stranger to sin. 

“Y-yeah?” you sighed, rolling your hips to place yourself more fully in Ash’s greedy hands, encouraging him to guide your panties down your legs.

“I see you down the hall,” a kiss to your throat.

“I see you in the elevator with your head down,” a kiss to your chest, a little tease of tongue behind it, as though he were tasting the beat of your heart, the pulse of you. 

“I see you waiting,” And he’s maneuvered down your body, between your legs, pressing full-mouthed kisses to the skin behind your knees. "Waiting for someone to come along and give it to you how you like it… how you need it."

And when had he lost his sweatshirt? His shirt? You take him in, now, eyes blown at his words, as he kisses his way up your legs, toward your aching center, his fingers following the blazing trail of his lips.

Ash’s fingers slide along your glistening slit, a perpetual tease, as he continues to press full kisses to the insides of your thighs, the firm line of his jaw sharp against your skin like a heated blade. 

And you’re basking in it, reveling at the feel of his thick fingers teasing your center, gathering your wetness and playing you like a game he knows so well. (And how would that be??) When –

You yelp at the jolt of pain, as the softness of his lips against your inner thigh is abruptly gone, replaced with a painful scrape of teeth. 

He had bitten you?!

You reach down to jerk Ash’s head from between your legs, moving your hips back and withdrawing at the hard bite he had rendered to your inner thigh. You glance down to see an imprint of teeth marks on the tender skin there.

“Wh-what the hell?” you demanded, “Too hard!”

“Sorry,” Ash bit, sounding not one ounce of sorry, cooly shrugging one bare, sculpted shoulder at your angry face. “You said to bite you, Cherry.” He smirked again, his face a puzzle of mismatched emotions as his bourbon eyes swirled with what looked like penitence, urging your forgiveness in their sincerity. While his mouth continued to play you with its soulless smirk. 

Red flag number… what was it now?? Just who was this guy?

And dd his mouth only know how to quirk in that one sinful, maddening way? 

He rocked forward on his knees, and you felt him then, fully hard in his jeans against your naked center, crowding you once more as he cupped the base of your jaw, fingers spidering back to tangle in the hair at the nape of your neck, eyes finding yours once more before kissing you.

Now his lips were penitent. Kissing your lips raw, like the scrape of crystallized honey – once smooth. 

Breathless, your heart stuttering, Ash pulls away, admiring your lips swollen from the nip-and-tug of his teeth, admiring your starry, lust-blown eyes with the heavy lids, the whole of you undone by his lips and his fingers, and he demands. Demands more. Wants you to need him as much as he desires to control you, the ache in him twisting like a knife between his ribs. The ache in you, fluttering and flush. He wants you to want it, to need it.

“Do it again?" He asks, busying himself with undoing his jeans and sliding them down his own legs, along with his boxer briefs. exposing more and more of his golden skin to your gaze before turning those obsidian-smoke eyes back to your piteous form, heated and wet for him. 

You quirked a brow, "Do what?"

"Pull my hair, Cherry," Ash replied leaning back over you once more to envelop you, a rolling shadow. A facile and firm wave, content to drown you in him. "Hard as you want."

And you're only too happy to oblige, moaning at the roll of Ash's hips into yours, his length sliding along your slit, weaving hour fingers through his curls and tugging – your reward a deep, desirous groan into your mouth as Ash slides his lips along yours, open-mouthed and wanting.

And he’s got you tied up in knots – figuratively, that is. Though you had the sneaking suspicion that if you’d vocalized any iteration of this, he’d only be too happy to do just that. And the thought of your shady neighbor tying your wrists to your own headboard shouldn’t make you wet. Shouldn’t make you groan while he’s kissing you, his tongue plunging into your mouth to taste your reciprocal moans. 

With a decided roll of his hips, he's inside of you, the drag of him heavy as he begins to thrust. He skates his palms along your legs, wrapping his hands around your thighs to hoist them up around his waist, satisfied when you lock your ankles around him.

He rewards you with a decidedly brutal thrust, pleased at the gasp it tears from your lungs.

He allows his hands to travel further upwards, to grip the leather skirt still bunched around your hips, using it as leverage to lift your hips and guide you, fucking you back onto his own cock at the frenzied pace he's set. 

It's almost overwhelming how just everywhere he feels, the drag of him inside of you heavy. The strange astrology of him, of your pairing, as he fucks you like you're a stranger to yourself.

Your headboard, you note faintly, is thumping against your wall in time with Ash's ministrations, but you're too out-of-body to care, the sound falling hollowly on your ears as the rest of your skin tingles and warms with in tandem with the building pleasure inside of you. You've never been more grateful for one of Anita's parties. Certain that no one on the other side of the shared wall could hear the headboard through the pulsing bass, could hear the hiccuping moans slipping from your lips.

And Ash must've had the same thought, his lips twisting as he rolls his hips, tearing his eyes from the sight of your now-heaving tits, to appreciate the headboard snapping against your lavender-painted bedroom wall.

Cute.

"D'ya think they can hear you, babe?" He croons mockingly, rolling forward and planting his hands on either side of your head, a heated roll of his hips causing a brush against your clit at this new angle. "Do you want them to?"

You shook your head mildly, the pleasure-pain at Ash's rough, repeated thrusts causing a blur in your eyes.

He's pleased at this, you note, whether it was your honesty or a blushing stroke to his own ego, Ash smiles again. All resplendent radiance that seemed so right on such a wrong face.

He's brushing your clit with a circling thumb, you note absently, and when had he shifted again?

"That's right," he murmurs to you, leaning forward to lick a line down your neck while he continues to rub your clit. "Only I get to hear you scream. No one else."

With a renewed vigor, his thrusts continue, his attention on your clit almost punishing now, punching the air from your lungs in a strangled moan that did, indeed, sound like a shuttered scream. Music to Ash's ears, like breaking glass, jagged and desperate. 

You were a wreck now, your arousal dripping down Ash's cock. The skin of your thigh burning where he had bitten you was now rubbing repeatedly against the taut skin of his waist. 

“Look at that,” Ash cooed, his voice a whiskey murmur of smoky haze into your ear, cupping your cheek as he used his thumb to drag the tears that had pricked in the corners of your eyes along your lower lash-line and beneath your eye, causing your eye makeup to smear and smudge. “Did you know how fucking pretty you are when you cry? When I make a mess of you?” 

He pressed his lips to your other cheek, dragging them along your heated skin and down to your mouth.

“No,” he murmured into your lips, catching your lower one between his full ones, chasing with teeth enough to lightly pull the plush of your bottom lip, “nonono… of course you don’t. You’re only pretty like this for me.” 

And, maybe you were addicted, now, to losing your senses. To throwing caution to the wind. To jagged little shards of danger. To pretty men with pretty curls whose words spilled like oil, thick and dark, from chapped lips. And you think you may be losing a bit of yourself at the feeling of him overwhelming you – what other reason would you be fucking your neighbor who always gave you the mild heebs? Fucking you dumb into your own mattress.

You snap at a particularly clever roll of his hips, coming on Ash's cock, the wet squeeze of your walls around him has a groan spilling from his lips like snake’s venom, blazing its way from his mouth through your veins – the whites of his eyes behind fluttering lids as they roll back at the feel of you around him, spurring his own orgasm as he came inside of you.

His mouth was covetous and prideful as he kissed you again, forceful, before withdrawing himself and guiding you onto your stomach.

You were too blissed out to care, too numb, dumb, and warm from your own release that you allowed Ash to shape your bones, running a palm down the curve of your spine as he guided your hips up. Allowing those glimmering, empty eyes to take in your swollen, abused pussy – to admire the way his own release leaked from between your lips.

He gathered a bit of himself on his thumb, causing you to shiver at the touch on your sensitive skin, before bringing it to your mouth. Wordlessly, you wrapped your lips around his thumb, hollowing your cheeks and allowing your tongue to run along the length of his digit, tasting himself on his own skin. A rare thing, as you realized, distantly, he hadn't really offered you to touch him during this entire encounter.

Ash groaned again at the sight and feel of your mouth on him as he took himself, still hard, and thrust back into your pussy, fucking his own come back into you with a few lazy thrusts, met with your mewls and squirming hips.

Content that you were full of him, he withdrew again, extricating his thumb from your lips before bringing it to his own, tasting your saliva before pulling it from his lips with a pop, smiling at you again. 

"Aren't you just a dream, Cherry?" 

You offer a wan half-smile in return, still hazy from the feel of him smattered in tingles across your skin, like fallen stars at the end of the world, eyeing him as he begins to bustle around your room, smoothing hands over his curls and making himself presentable. Seemingly uncaring for your boneless state, legs at an odd angle, like a fucked-out doll.

“See ya ‘round, alba,” he bids, tucking himself back into his pants and starting toward your door. Leaving you with the feeling of bad, wrong, want – in his destructive wake. 

“I truly hope not,” you murmur, unsure whether your words will reach Ash’s ears as he clicks open your door and begins to stride in the hallway. The ambiguity resolved for you, as you see him turn around to reward you with a blinding grin, a wall of white teeth. On a less pretty face, it likely would have served as intended – a warning. But then again, you clearly weren’t so good at heeding those when they were wrapped in handsome packages. 

Oh, you were so screwed… 

--

Tagging: @joaquinwhorres @withahappyrefrain  @thegirlwhowritesfics @xbamboowishesx @abibliophobiaa @clints-lucky-arrow @inklore @phoenixhalliwell @ohmagawd-life @mrshipsmcgee @p3mybeloved @letmeplaytheliontoo @vestrangel @moonlight-prose @aphrogeneias @levylovegood @thatredheadwriter @2clones-1kamino @zombieaurora @shadeds-library @writercole @ijustwantedplums @justalonelyslytherin @gretagerwigsmuse @fanboysfangirl @siriusfahey @gingerbreadandpaper @the-navistar-carol  @alexxavicry @jadore-andor @fanboygarcia @lavenderluna10 @thedaredevilsgirl @fluffyprettykitty @mickeyluvs @mothdruid   @maxmayfield @eagerforthesky @melinacalhounxo @marvelousmermaid @callmemana @spencer-is-amazing @mxgyver ​ @n3ssm0nique ​@mothdruid  @andrewrussgarfield @bioodforbiood @themarcusmoreno @the-purity-pen

#welp #here we are #unable to write a blurb to save our lives #ash no exit #danny ramirez no exit #ash garver x reader #ash no exit x reader #ash x reader #ash no exit x you #danny ramirez #danny ramirez smut #sinful saturday #thirst asks #danny ramirez x reader #no one writes for this character so uh thank anna everyone #dramirezedit #dannyramirezedit

[joaquinwhorres]

Eros ft. Ash & Nina

"Think you can handle it?" he asked, fingertips digging into her waist as if to prove the point, pulling her closer so he could roll his hips into hers, his jeans providing delicious friction against the fabric of her leggings.  

A desperate wave of desire, something like longing but strong enough to almost be a need, coursed through her at the question. It escaped in a small gasp as his teeth tugged at her ear, tongue running against the lobe in dizzying ways. There was no way she'd be able to form a sentence if he continued that. 

So, Nina tangled her fingers in his hair, tugging at the long curls so that his head tilted back and Ash looked her in the face. 

"Make me cry." 

The 7 Types of Love for the 7 Days til Valentine's ft. My OCs (1/7)

Tag List: @veetlegeuse @rae-gar-targaryen @bobfloydsbabe @hairringtonsteve @decennia @asirensrage @chrissymunson

#alexa play toxic by britney spears #7 Loves for 7 Days #ship: ashina #oc: nina #ash garver x reader #ash garver x oc #ash garver #ash (no exit) x reader #ash (no exit) x oc #ash (no exit) #danny ramirez character #series: are you nervous? #eros love #valentine's day celebration #when i tell you this is the best gif I've ever made #no exit #no exit movie #no exit hulu

[lunamoonbby]

Ash from No Exit has a gun kink don't change my mind

Also I want, no I need more ash (no exit) x reader fics he seems like a dangerously possessive man a toxic boyfriend but you don't want to leave cause he has that deceiving sweet side to him that makes you stay with him

#ash no exit #no exit #ash garver x reader #danny ramirez #hulu originals #joaquin torres #fanboy garcia #mickey garcia #ash garver #ash garver gives daddy kink #he's a murderer but he still cute #mama im in love with a criminal

[yoyokalicent]

soon you will be mine, oh, but i want you now.

pairing: felix catton x fem!reader

summary: you're felix's favorite girl, you had been since you were young. what happens when you're all he needs?

warnings: cursing, mentions of fucking and alcohol, felix is a freak and in love with his best friend.

a/n: this little fic is based off fallingforyou by the 1975 bc its arguably one of their most heartbreakingly good songs so!! (lyrics in bold)

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i'm so excited for the night all we need's my bike and your enormous house

the strobe lights were almost blinding as you search the large house for felix. felix, who all but got on his knees to beg you to accompany him to the house party you now wander around aimlessly.

"princess!" you barely hear felix over the booming sound of music being pumped through every speaker in the house, "lost you for a minute there, you ok?"

his hand finds yours immediately walking with you toward the sliding glass doors, "just need some air, fi."

"me too, i'll go with you." i'll go anywhere with you, he means.

his hand leaves yours and felix can't help the bout of disappointment he feels in the pit of his stomach, wishing he could hold your hand just a little longer.

felix watches you intently as you open the door with the hand that not long ago was occupied his own, and once the door is open enough for you to exit your hand slots right into his own.

"do you have a cig?" what a stupid question, you see he has a full pack in his back pocket, you don't know is that he wants to share one with you, to see the red smudges of your lipstick around the end of it before he takes a drag of his own.

"f'course." you rake your hands through your black handbag, the handbag he purchased for you while his family was on holiday in paris. once you pull out your worn pack of cigarettes you follow up with your light pink lighter, "hm?"

it was your signal for him to light it for you, he takes the lighter out of your hands and cups a hand around your lips, lighting the cigarette for you. maybe its the drinks, the cups of liquor you had poured for him making his head spin, or maybe it was you, the thought of you being his one day. just one day, but he wants you now.

after your long drag you pass the cigarette to him, blowing out the smoke and looking out toward the backyard where friends were dancing, and lovers were making out in the dark corner by the trees.

"i've always loved nights like this, its so easy." you say, reaching your hand back out for the cigarette.

"me too, fun." he responds, as you flick the ends of the cigarette and watch the ashes fall onto the concrete, "always have fun with you, princess."

the nickname fell from his lips easily, something he had called you since you were a princess on halloween in grade school, never failing to pick on you for it.

"wanna get out of here?" felix asks looking for your confirmation, just wanting to be alone with you, not having to deal with farleigh's knowing glare.

"i do, fi. walk me back?" another stupid question, but this time coming from you, "or am i staying with you?"

"you'll stay with me, princess."

i'm caught on your coat again you said, "oh no, it's fine"

the weather in oxford was completely contradictory to felix's mood. the grey sky with icy winds had no comparison for the light reflecting from his smile. he was sat in some dingy diner (somewhere that only you could get him to step foot into) waiting for the check with you beside him.

he completely rejected your idea of sitting across from him, arguing that, "i haven't seen you in ages, why would i want you to be anywhere but my side?"

your lips were wrapped around the straw of the strawberry milkshake you swore you needed, shamefully felix can't help but think about your lips. the way they break into a smile, the way they sing your favorite songs, the way they'd look wrapped around him.

you're his best friend for goodness sake.

"fi?"

fuck the thinks, "princess."

"do you think we could go to the corner store? i wanted to get those crisps you like. i've been wanting them since the other night." you ask him with hesitation, as if he has ever denied you anything, as if he ever could.

"yep," felix pops his p, mirroring something you had always done, "quite a walk, sure you want to in the cold?"

you take one last sip of your milkshake before responding, "i've got you to keep me warm, don't think that's enough?" he wraps his arm around you to pull you closer to him.

his silence is telling, for as long as you had known him he was never one for comfortable silence. but, with you he could sit for hours without talking, just to be with you.

once the check is payed, by felix, you are bouncing out of your seat, forgetting the jacket that was resting by the end of your back.

"forgetting something?" he holds the jacket up, opening it for your arms to slip into effortlessly.

before your hands have the chance to zip up your jacket his are working at the zipper, toward the middle of the jacket the zipper stops.

"huh?" he says, trying to find where it went wrong.

his mind is racing as he tries to find the flaw in your jacket, when he finds the culprit it almost warms his heart. the fringes of his own jacket were caught in the teeth of your own. a piece of himself was caught in a piece of you.

"sorry bout that, princess."

"oh, no s'fine." without hesitation he zips your jacket all of the way, not wanting to risk you catching a cold. going as far as to giving you his own scarf and putting your hood up for you.

"and what would i do without you?" you ask, hooking your arm in his own and resting your cheek on his bicep as you walk down the street.

"freeze, and possibly have to buy your own food."

feeling of your arms i don't want to be your friend, i want to kiss your neck

felix loved the feeling of your bed. the soft linens your mother had sent from southern italy, the fluffy blankets, firm pillows, the feeling of your arms wrapped around his waist with your head lodged between his shoulder blades.

he loved it, right now, he longed for it.

farleigh was next to him talking to some guy at the pub and all he could think about is what you were doing. felix truly tried his hardest to get you to go with them to the pub, but you swore up and down tonight was your night for rest and relaxation.

stupidly, so stupidly, felix thought he would have more fun at the pub entertaining girls he'd never go home with instead of entertaining you.

"wanna get out of here?" a girl asks, pawing at his chest. all he can do his feign disgust, why would he want to leave with anyone but you?

"no," he responds, and sees the look on her face drop, "thanks" his words are slurred and all he can do is think to count the drinks he's had. the liquor really has affected him, usually he has you mooching off of whatever he has in his cup.

but, not tonight.

"farleigh, i need to go." felix pats farleigh on the shoulder, signaling his leave of absence.

"tell princess i said hi." farleigh responds, mocking his nickname for you, and felix can only open and close his mouth with a nod. felix starts his walk out of the bar with a slight wave to farleigh.

the walk to your dorm was quick, and his legs moved in a brisk walk, quickly starting to border a jog. wanting to get to you, get into your shower, get into your bed as quick as possible.

he dodges groups of partygoers and their judgmental glares skillfully, if they knew what he was running to he's sure they wouldn't be looking at him the way they were.

he arrives at your dormitory and ditches the stuffy elevator that would take too long, he doesn't have time for waiting. his legs move up the stairs, slower this time. almost savoring in the excitement of seeing you.

the many cups have him thinking, what if he told you now? he waits in front of your door, waiting. not knocking, just thinking. thinking about happy he could make you. thinking about what he could do for you, what you could do for him.

just before his mind could catch up with his movements he's knocking on the door. reeling in what he could say to you, and then you open the door.

your hair is in your rollers, and your body is drowning in your light yellow nightgown. ignoring all signs of sleepiness you smile, "felix?"

"i do not want to be your mate." your smile immediately drops, and your eyes open wide, suddenly he wants to jump down the flight of steps he had just climbed.

"what the fuck, felix?"

"no, no, no, princess, not like that." his large hands take your face into them, so tightly that your cheeks are smushed together, not to hurt you, never to hurt you.

"then how felix? you come to me in the middle of night to tell me what?" your words are slurred to the grip he has on his face.

you can smell the whiskey radiating off of him, making this all the more confusing, his hands fall from your face to his sides, "i don't want to be your friend." he takes breath, a deep breath, "i wanna kiss your neck"

"huh?" you ask again, slowly getting at what he means, but needing him to say it. say what you had been thinking for the last year.

"there was a girl at the bar, and she wasn't ugly. at all. she wanted to go home with me-"

you cut him off, "felix."

"sorry. but, i didn't want to go with her, all i thought about was you. coming home to you, maybe even kissing you, hugging you, fucking yo-"

you cut him off again, "felix."

"i just-"

"you what, felix?"

"i really love you. i love you so much i only think of you, i only think about you so much i can't hear a song without thinking about you. i love you so much i've started to lose my mind! i love you so much, princess." his lips smash into yours, and you taste him. the whiskey, the mint lip balm, the cigarettes, you taste him.

you kiss him until his hands start to trail toward the end of your night gown, "can't give the neighbors a free show, fi."

"can't have them seeing what's mine."

your eyebrows raise teasingly, "yours?"

"you're mine princess, finally."

#felix catton #felix catton x reader #felix catton x you #felix catton x y/n #felix catton fanfiction #felix catton fluff #felix catton imagines #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader #saltburn #saltburn fanfction #saltburn 2023

[yikimiki]

>> bones and ashes

⚔️ sukuna x fem!reader | warnings for: violence, mentions of death, possessiveness (sukuna is as evil as they come so basically every red flag under the sun), non-con that turns into dub-con (Stockholm syndrome), mentions of virginity loss, anatomically impossible size difference (if u know what I mean), blood play, etc | around 5-6k words | also important to note that I absolutely assassinated the canon lore in some points but bare with me

Sukuna doesn’t really have the ability to love. But he thinks he gets close enough when it comes to you. Of course, in his own twisted, macabre way.

Sukuna isn’t familiar to the concept of fondness, let alone anything more profound or meaningful than that. He knows want, desire, possession, curiosity even. But none of those feelings have ever tilted towards the side of affection, nor does he want them to. They’re all narcissistic pulses that keep pushing him forward — towards more power, more control, more of what he can become. He’s not even fond of his own abilities. Arrogant? Perhaps, but not fond. He can’t be fond of something he knows is not at its peak yet, that would just be weakness.

And Sukuna is everything but weak.

He sees you in a cold winter morning and he does what he knows best: he takes. Takes your pride, your virginity, your blood. Takes you like he took the lives of the rest of your village, paints your skin red and watches as the tears wash it away. Sukuna takes and takes until you have nothing left to give, just like he has done countless times before and yet… this time, something switches.

This time, he decides to let you live. Trapped in a dark cell, of course, but alive regardless.

The days move slowly, and you learn to mark their passing by the loud, clanking sound of a metal dish being thrown through a cracked door. The food is mostly raw meet and, after a few days of disgust, you cave in and eat a little of it. Not enough to be satisfied, not even close, but enough to keep you alive for at least a few hours longer.

Sukuna comes by in irregular intervals, and you soon give up on trying to find a pattern in his visits. You know it’s him from the way the door creaks open even further to accommodate his size, and you watch as his large shadow observes your movements for a moment before he kicks the disgusting plate towards you. Most of time time he’s there, you force yourself to eat, afraid of what should come if you turn down his unspoken commands. Once he seems satisfied, he exits without a word.

There is one single advantage in being in a windowless, isolated cell: you can’t hear what goes on up there. You’ve heard enough the day that Sukuna came to your village — the shattering screams, the pleads for mercy, the babies crying, the sound of wood and bone breaking almost too similar to differentiate. You saw creatures beyond your realm and heard awful whispers and threats; held you family as they died and gave up as the snow beneath your hands became as red as the burning sky above. And you know enough about Sukuna’s legend to be aware that it wasn’t an isolated incident.

When evil incarnate arrives, there’s not much you can do but surrender.

Though, when it comes to the legends, you thought that his palace was more of a manner of speak than an actual location. Once again, though, you’ve heard enough legends to know when to stop inquiring about the details.

Sukuna comes in after a week with a plan and a cloud of amusement over his head — frankly, given the state you were in, he thought you would be dead by now. Your stubborn hold on life is as impressive as it is pathetic.

“You looked so small when I first saw you,” his thunderous voice breaks the silence. There’s no food in his hands this time, only the fire cracking behind his form. You’re sitting down on the cold floor, back against the wall, and you don’t even bother looking up at him. “You look even smaller now.”

You don’t answer, because you don’t know what to say. Of course you’re smaller — you’re weak, starving, lacking movement and sunlight. Every muscle in your body aches and the aftertaste of dried blood never leaves your mouth. Smaller is a compliment; you wish you were just bones and ashes by now.

Sukuna takes a heavy step inside the dark chamber. “I killed everyone you’ve ever loved that day,” he says, bluntly. There’s no amusement nor sorrow in his tone — it’s a neutral statement. He lowers himself to your level and, on the corner of your eyes, you see his four arms. He is so wrong, even in a physical sense. Like the scar of something that shouldn’t even exist. “And yet… you live. Do you want to know why?”

You sneer. “I wish you’d just let me die.”

He chuckles, and one hand meets the side of your head. His fingers dig into the dirty, messy strings and pulls on the roots. There are tears on the corners of your eyes but you refuse to let him see them. “That’s exactly why you’re alive,” he says. “I knew you were ready to die when I saw you — all bloodied up, on your knees in the snow. It was quite a sight.” Sukuna’s voice is a malicious whisper as he comes even closer to you — he smells rotten. The tongue that licks up your cheek makes you want to puke. He tastes you the same way as he did on the first day, and you have no idea what he’s searching for. “Tell me, why were you so ready to give yourself to me? Most try to plead at least.”

“Plead for what? Your mercy?” The sarcasm is clear through your tone. The words you mean to say are knotted in the base of your throat and the odor Sukuna reeks is making you dizzy; making you remember everything that came before this. “I— I didn’t have anything else to live for,” you stutter. “You killed… you killed my mother, my father, my baby brother… why would I want to live without them? Why would I humiliate myself asking for mercy from a creature that clearly doesn’t have any to spare?”

Through anger, you look up at him. His eyes are flames bursting through the darkness, and they shine as your words settle on his skin. “Do you only live for love, my little dove?” He asks. “What a purposeless life you have.”

“Do you only live for hate?” You ask back before you can hold your tongue. Somewhere in your mind, you know that he’s capable of unimaginable evil, but you are beyond the point of caution. “What a purposeless legacy you’re leaving behind.”

This angers him. The corners of his mouth twists as he speaks. “You people fear me. Even the strongest of sorcerers doesn’t dare to go against me.”

“I pity you and your ridiculous need for destroying what isn’t yours,” you spit. “And I hate you for keeping me alive. I hate you for everything you’ve done to me and to the people I love. And I hate that you even dare to come here and talk to me like I’m the smaller person for daring to care about something.”

The hands on your hair tighten and he pulls your face against his. Sukuna’s forehead is a furnace against yours, his eyes burn into your soul. “You little insect, I could kill you with a snap of my fingers if I wanted to.”

Your voice shakes but you say it regardless: “Do it, then, what are you waiting for?”

“No,” his answer is more cruel than death could ever be. And he knows that. “And you know why?”

“If you are keeping me alive to have your way with me, so be it, have it,” you say. The tears are obvious now. You wonder if he can smell how fearful you really are. “Violate me like you did before, I don’t care anymore, but just don’t keep me alive just to waste me away.”

His lips are touching yours now, but you can’t pull away even if you tried. Sukuna’s chest is heaving like he’s in the middle of a battle, his voice like a roar in your ears. “Then ask. For. My Mercy.”

“I w-would n-never…”

“Ask!” It’s a loud command that crashes against you like a wave. You sink like there is no adrenaline in your body to keep you afloat; the anger that moved you before is no longer within your reach.

The truth is clear: you’re human. He’s a curse — the king of curses, older than you could ever imagine; probably even more powerful than the legends you’ve heard. His eyes say that there are fates worse than death and you believe them. And maybe, just maybe, if you play by his rules, he’ll grow tired of you and let you wither away.

“P-Please,” you are sobbing now, tears falling down like a cascade. Sukuna licks them and hums in satisfaction, watching as you break apart into a mountain of hiccups and trembling limbs. “Please just… have mercy on me. I’ll do whatever you want just — please, stop torturing me like this.”

“Aw,” he coos. “Was that so hard?”

You want to say that yes, somehow, that took everything still left in you. You want to say that if he wanted to break your spirit, congratulations, he’s done it. But you don’t get the chance.

Sukuna kisses you with the same ferocity you expected, sharp teeth crashing against yours and tongue exploring your mouth with no prior warning. He groans as he tastes you — you, the blood in your food, the salt of your tears — and suddenly it’s all that he will ever crave again. You whimper against his lips as his two lower arms crawl up your thighs and hold onto your hips, pushing you against him as he stands up and presses you against the wall. You feel more caged now than you have felt these past few days.

“Silly little human,” he raps against your lips, then licks your cheek for more of your precious tears. He realizes how much he likes to make you cry. You wince and give out a little sob, which only makes him smile. Finally, his grip on your hair loosens. “What is my name?”

You blink, dumbfounded by the sudden question. “S-Sukuna…?”

He pouts. “Say it like you mean it or I won’t be so nice.”

“Sukuna,” you say more firmly this time.

“There we go, that’s a good girl,” he says. “See how things just work better when you don’t misbehave? Hm?”

You nod. He doesn’t like it. “Y-Yes, I see, I’m sorry.”

“Very good.” The hand that was on your hair moves to hold your face, and it’s so huge that you feel like it would crush your skull with one single movement. As the other two arms hold onto your thighs, the fourth limb squeezes your breast. “Now, this is what’s going to happen, my pretty little human,” Sukuna starts, “I will have my servants take you to my chambers. You will be washed, clothed, and taken care of. They will feed you proper human food this time, whichever it is that your heart desires. How does that sound?”

Sounds like a trap. “And, in return, what do I have to do for you?”

“What do I have to do for you…?” He raises his eyebrows.

“Sukuna,” you complete.

“There’s my perfect little girl,” he says. You hate that something inside you likes the praise. “You will have to wait for me there. Do whatever you prefer, but don’t leave my room. Any attempt at escaping or killing yourself will be futile, and I’ve already warned every single curse that your death will result in a much more dire future for them. So you will be brought back to me. And I promise I won’t be so nice.”

“I understand… Sukuna,” you correct yourself quickly. It doesn’t go unnoticed.

The hand on your breast squeezes tighter, and you bite your lip so you don’t complain. “I knew I was right when I brought you here, something made me spare you. Yet, I don’t know what it is just yet.”

Sukuna is a looming threat above you, his limbs trapping you, and his deep voice is like thunder about to break. You know why so many fear him — you fear him too. And the sooner you act like it, the sooner he’ll grow tired of you. Sooner he’ll realize he was wrong in bringing you into his fortress.

He smirks. “But I believe I’ll discover soon enough.”

- ⚔️ -

Sukuna’s chambers are as spacious and monstrous as himself — corners switching and adjusting like breathing flesh; furniture morphing into different shapes; the weird odor of something old; the feeling for something lurking. The large windows show a world between worlds; a reality that doesn’t seem right no matter how long you stare at it. His palace is in a dimension you can’t reach, and you give up on trying to understand it. If anything, the more you wonder about it, the more you shake under the weight of the sheer power it must take to keep it all existing like solid matter.

Your passage of time is morphed and unreliable, but you would guess that a couple weeks have passed by the time that you come to terms that, perhaps, Sukuna isn’t as easy to bore as you first expected. The fire in his eyes doesn’t seem to diminish as he sees you — if anything, his eagerness to have you all to himself only seems to expand — and the way he takes care of you makes you realize that he isn’t planning on letting you die anytime soon.

Life in his chambers is far more comfortable, you admit, but it’s a prison nonetheless. Still, you can’t say that you are mistreated. In his chambers, you are bathed and clothed, well-fed and pampered. You soon come back to your normal weight and the fatigue leaves your body; there is more space to move, more things to do. The curses that come to check on you seem to be strangely kind and human-like, though you know it’s out of fear and not out of worry, and they keep your mind occupied with several stories and legends as the days move on.

Sukuna is more absent than you would have imagined, conquering and killing as often as he can. When he finally comes to you he is clean, recently bathed, but you can still see he is fresh from a battle, some mindless corruption beyond the horizon that you would rather hear nothing about. There are shallow scars and deep cuts that heal unreasonably quickly; dried blood that hasn’t quite washed away and ashes beneath his fingernails.

You ask whose village he has attacked this time, but he says it doesn’t matter, because there are no survivors.

“I never leave any survivors,” he completes, kissing your forehead, “besides you, my little human.”

You don’t push beyond that information, but the feeling of being special, chosen, starts to blossom like a dangerous rose inside your chest. It stings and stings, but grows regardless, and you see yourself less able to fight against his possessive claims. You start to enjoy them. You start to wonder if life beyond those walls is worth fighting for when you seem to have everything you would ever wish for right here.

You can always tell when Sukuna is about to arrive in this world because the atmosphere switches into something darker, heavier. The air seems thicker and the clouds beyond your windows start to bleed into a deep shade of red. Sukuna returns with the apocalypse on his back, and, when he does, he uses your body as he pleases.

Like the room around you, there is constant change. Sometimes it hurts like hell; sometimes it’s pleasurable. Sometimes you wish it would just end and you end up crying in despair; sometimes you look at him like you might get used to feeling him inside of you. Some days, Sukuna is kinder, more patient, taking time to adjust you to his enormous size and even makes sure that you enjoy it before reaching his end; fucking you full of his cum until you can’t think of one single thing besides him. Other days, you know he is angry just by the way he walks through the door — and, in those days, you are left bleeding and bruised as he uses your body in every single way until he’s close enough to satisfied. That, on itself, can take a long, long time.

You realize that, during those violent days, he could use one of his curses to please himself, but he prefers to use you — because you bleed, you cry, and you suffer. As long as your pain exists, his interest is unwavering.

However, like everything else, you adapt, get used to it. Routine becomes familiar and you learn the tell-tale signs of his rancid mood; learn how to make it a little better and what things to avoid. You stop thinking about getting away — you don’t even have anywhere else to go — and start longing for his presence as he takes more time to come back home. Sukuna is warm, safe; next to him you know you are shielded from any harm. When he appears, no one dares to look or touch you, no one speaks until they are spoken to. Just by being in his gravitational pull, you are protected and no harm will ever come your way again.

Even if it hurts, you start hoping that he won’t get tired of you.

Sukuna, on the other hand, isn’t quite sure how he feels about it all.

It’s not love — he has gone over that one a few hundred times already, has marked off every possible scenario and imagined every possible feeling, and he is sure it isn’t love. To be frank, he doesn’t even think he’s capable of it even if he wanted to, he sold his soul too long ago to even remember how normal humans love. But if it’s not love, it’s something similar — a kind of tenderness, fondness. He has a soft spot for you, to put it bluntly. Though not in the typical sense.

Sukuna adores you like a painter adores his favorite canvas; like an exotic bird in a cage — he adores you with possession, obsession, with the knowledge that you can’t ever get away from his grip. He is fond of you in a way that he would murder anyone who would even dare to touch what is his; but would never set you free. He can hurt you, he can tear you into pieces and build you to his liking. Sukuna can kiss you or bite you; hug or break you, but it’s because you’re his little pet and no one else’s.

He is fond of the way you bend for him; the way you look at him with sheer adoration in your eyes even after he has taken everything from you. He is fond of the way that only he could kill you; that your small life is in his hands and you thank him for it. Sukuna is fond of the way your tight little cunt stretches so wide to take his fat cock; lives for the little whimpers you give out and the tears that stain his satin sheets when he finally allows you to cum for him. If he could crawl inside your soul, he would. If he could take it and eat it and have you forever, he would.

He doesn’t know why he craves you so much, but he knows that nothing else gives him the same high anymore.

So he keeps you.

It’s a heavy stormy night when he comes back the next time, and his room is only illuminated by a few candles and the lightening from outside. You’re in his large bed, looking as small as that day in the snow, and there is a touch of worry in your eyes that he doesn’t miss. But he ignores it.

“Undress,” he commands.

You rush to do as he says, throwing the faint fabric over your head. It falls to the ground as Sukuna walks towards the bed, his massive weight making it dip under his knee as he leans closer to you.

“My pretty little doll,” Sukuna muses. “Missed me?”

He always asks that. And your answer is always the same.

“So much, Sukuna.”

It’s more honest every time.

He hums, satisfied, and smirks as he pushes your hair away from your face. “I have something to tell you, and I think you will like it,” Sukuna says. You look at him with wide eyes as he settles over you, his four arms caging your body as you lay down. The mouth on his stomach open and closes, a large tongue coming out before it vanishes again — it always does it when he’s particularly excited. “Would you like to know what it is?”

You know he will tell you regardless. Like all the tales of his battles, he lives for the glimpse of horror in the back of your eyes. “Yes, Sukuna.”

“Seems like you are famous now,” he starts. You furrow your eyebrows. “Sorcerers are trying to save you. The poor little human girl that Sukuna took as a prisoner months ago.” He kisses your neck, then licks the skin. You shiver — months, it has been months then. “Two of them tried to enter my domain today, stupid little insects,” he continues. Another hand lands on your exposed breast, playing with your nipple. “You have no idea how enraged that made me, my little human. To have someone try to take you away from me; to try and to enter my domain and take you from me.”

His voice turns into a growl by the end of the sentence, and you feel the familiar pulse of terror running through your veins. He’s in a bad mood, that’s obvious, but there’s something hiding beneath that as well.

“What did you do to them?” You ask. “Did they get in?”

Sukuna chuckles darkly, and the hand that was on your breast now settles on your clit, massaging it softly. “I took care of them, my sweet thing, of course,” he says. Your breath hitches at the slow pleasure of his movements, and your eyes flutter shut. “No one will ever take you from me.”

“I don’t want to lose you,” you say without a thought. In your heart, you feel it’s wrong. But without him, you have nothing. “I’m yours forever, Sukuna.”

“I know you are,” he answers.

Sukuna holds you by the throat as he kisses you — not enough to suffocate you, but enough to make you a little dizzy. Your eyes cross mindlessly as his tongue invades your mouth; a deep groan coming from his chest as he tastes your lips. He always kisses you violently, possessively, like he wishes to suck your soul out of your chest. Beneath his size you can only shrink and hold onto his large biceps, the wetness between your legs growing as he takes what is his.

He pulls back, ignoring the string of saliva that connects you two. “Pretty little thing,” he muses, shoving his middle finger inside your mouth. “Suck for me.”

You do as he says and he smirks at the feeling of your pretty lips around his large finger. Soon enough, the same digit is invading your pussy, curling up so quickly that you see starts at your peripheral vision.

“Relax or it’ll hurt again,” he says — not like he cares about it. “I want you to remember tonight.”

“W-Why?”

“Because I’ll make sure that you’ll be mine forever,” he says, a devilish smile on the corners of his lips. “So no one can take you from me. No one would even try.”

Your breath is getting heavier, and you don’t even register what he’s telling you — he could do a billion things to you and you’d still let him. The time spent only in his company made your resolution vanish, and you became exactly what he wanted you to: another possession for him to do as he pleases. Because of him, you have nothing else. Besides him, you have nothing.

“You’re not cumming around my finger tonight,” he says and quickly removes his hand from your cunt. You whine at the sudden emptiness, walls spasming around nothing, but you know better than to protest. “It’s going to be around my cock, you got it?”

“Yes, Sukuna,” you say.

“Good girl,” he muses. His lower arms move to undo his pants as his mouth attacks yours once again. His sharp teeth drain blood from your lips and he groans at the metallic taste; drinks the little sob of pain you let out. “You’re all fucking mine. Forever,” he growls, “I’ll make you live forever with me.”

Months ago, that would be torture. But now, “It sounds like heaven, Sukuna,” you say. “I love you.”

Your vision falls to where his hands are working. His cock is massive, bigger than your forearm, balls swinging out of his shorts and falling heavy under his shaft. Your entire body tingles in anticipation as he strokes himself, aligning his cockhead with your opening. “Tiny fucking cunt,” he curses, rubbing it against your soaked folds. “I’ll train you to take my cock even better than now, kitten.” Your mouth falls open as he starts to push in and it hurts — no matter how many times you’ve taken him, it always burns. “Way too fucking tight for my fat cock, you know that?”

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll do better-“

He chuckles. “I fucking love it.”

In one strong motion, he shoves himself as deep as he can, pressing against your cervix as you whine at his size. It isn’t fair — it’s so thick you can’t even breathe, you can feel him in your stomach, pressing and pulsing until you can’t think of anything but the sheer size of his massive cock inside your poor little hole. Your walls hurt to accommodate his girth, stretching as far as they can, but it never seems like it’s enough.

“It’s t-too big, Sukuna,” you whine. And it is. You know he must be doing something to your body so you can even be alive right now, because it’s not humanly possible to take such a big cock. “I c-can’t…”

His hand lands on your head and pulls at the roots. “You are my special little human, my obedient little girl,” he reminds you. His cock throbs inside you and you whimper, the small movement alone makes you drool. “You will do anything I tell you to do.”

You nod. “Y-Yes.”

“So when I tell you to take it….” He rolls his hips even deeper and you call his name so loud that you’re sure the entire world will hear it. “You’ll fucking take it.”

You don’t even have the ability to answer as he starts to pound deep inside your soaked cunt, hard and violent, as he is. Your vision is blurry with tears as you look down to see his massive cock bullying itself again and again inside your cunt, taking everything you have to give.

“Look at me when I claim you,” Sukuna warns and you do it instantly. Your legs wrap around his hips and he squeezes your ass so hard it will bruise. There’s a malicious glint in his red eyes that never quite goes away, no matter how much he tries, and now it’s deadset on you. “My precious little girl,” he calls, voice strained with pleasure. You can tell from the way his cock throbs that he is close, but it doesn’t matter. He just keeps going. “You told me you love me. Do you only live for love, kitten?”

“I live f-for loving you, S-Sukuna,” you respond automatically. “I live for you.”

Sukuna groans like an animal — he adores what a stupid little fuckdoll he has turned you into. He can never get tired of this; he can never let it get away. “You’ll die for me, kitten?”

You nod so quickly you get dizzy. “Yes, a-anything… I’m yours f-forever.”

He calls your name like he has never done before, a little insane, a little sweet. If the sheer size of Sukuna’s genitals aren’t anything to go by, he cums a lot — it oozes out of your cunt before he’s even halfway through, cock throbbing and leaking again and again until you’re filled to the brim. His huge balls smack against your ass as he continues to bully himself inside you, a little more desperate now, intoxicated by his own pleasure.

There’s no rest, there never is. He only takes and takes.

“I’ll make you mine,” he groans.

“I’m yours, Sukuna, I’m yours…” you repeat like a broken record, half-aware of your own voice through the loud moans and hiccups. You watch in ecstasy as he uses one of his sharp nails to cut the palm of his hand, blood oozing out of it and dropping on your breasts. It’s like you know what he will say even before he says it. “You want me t-to-“

“Drink it.”

Perhaps you should be scared, but you’re not. Your mouth opens without a second thought and he presses his large palm on your lips, muffling your moans and allowing the hot dark liquid to invade your tongue. Sukuna’s blood is thick and it tastes like poison, but you do as he says, liking his flesh and drinking it until he seems satisfied and takes his hand away.

It strikes your body like an arrow, straight through your chest and expanding like deep roots. You feel as his blood burns your insides, changing something in your very existence. It’s hard to think through the sensations — the pleasure building up, the venom running through your veins, the mixture of devotion and fear that dances inside your mind. Your vision is double, black around the edges, and you think you might be cumming but you’re not sure you can even feel your body anymore. Sukuna’s voice echoes muffled in the background, and you can see his mouth moving in slow motion, but you don’t understand his words. You think you are crying. You think you can’t breathe. You think you are dying and being born at the same time and you don’t know why you feel so grateful for it all.

Your lungs are on fire and your throat is dry. You try to speak, but can’t. You have the vague flashback of the time your uncle made you drink alcohol, it burns just the same, but this time, no one is laughing. This time, you’re dying.

“… at me.”

This time, Sukuna’s voice rings sharp and clear. You stare at him, confused, as the flames inside your chest slowly subside.

“Keep looking at me,” he repeats, commanding.

You try to nod, but your head doesn’t move. You can’t see the room around you anymore. “H-Hurts,” you manage to get out.

“I know,” he says, and there’s a touch of softness in his voice you don’t ignore. “Focus on me. I’ll make it feel better.”

And that’s what you try to do, even if your soul seems to be floating miles above your body. You look down at where he is still moving in and out of you, at the white-coated mess that drips from your hole and soaks your inner thighs. It doesn’t seem to hurt as badly now, like your body is changing to accommodate him even better — in fact, it feels like heaven.

You look up at him, dumbfounded. “I t-think I’m going to cum, Sukuna,” the words come easier now, and you feel like you can move again. Though, it still feels like a dream. “It’s so g-good.”

“Cum on my fat cock, then, make me proud,” he coos. You close your eyes and nod, trying to focus on the paradise that blooms between your legs. You feel every ridge and vein of his massive cock; hear the lewd squelching sounds of his cum leaking out of you. It comes to you faster than you would have imagined, washing through your body like a wave as you cry and shake miserably. “That’s my girl, fuck, there we go, that’s my perfect little girl.”

The spasming of your walls manages to milk more cum out of him and he groans loudly as he releases inside you once more. Sukuna cums so much it makes you breathless, filling you again and again until he’s satisfied and the sheets beneath you have no salvation left.

“There we go, take everything,” he says in a strained groan, “every fucking drop inside this tight fucking cunt.”

Sukuna looks absolutely insane above you — fucking his cock so hard into you that it seems like he will never have the chance again; eyes blown wide and his teeth clenched. You cum again, this time a little softer, as you feel his thick cock shoot a specially large amount of cum inside your pussy, and wait until he’s done using your body.

Eventually, he settles, pressing his forehead against yours and looking deep inside your eyes. The redness in them is shining like flames, watching every movement of your face.

“Feels weird,” you say. “I feel dizzy.”

He chuckles and removes himself from you. Another white-hot wave gushes out of your cunt, and he sits back to watch it drip. “There we go, it wasn’t so bad, was it?”

You swallow, your tongue is still numb inside your mouth. “It was horrible, Sukuna. I felt like I was going to die.”

Sukuna smiles and uses two fingers to push some of his cum back inside you. “I can promise you it was better than when I did,” he says, and you’re confused for a moment. “But now we don’t have anything to worry about anymore, my sweet thing. Those pathetic little sorcerers won’t want you.”

“H-How are you so sure?” You ask.

“Aw, my sweet, stupid little girl.” He pouts, condescending as always. “No one will want to save a curse now.”

Your eyes widen. “Did you…?”

“I told you.” Sukuna licks his own blood at the corner of your mouth. “You are mine forever.”

#sukuna #sukuna smut #sukuna angst #sukuna x you #sukuna x reader #jujutsu smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #ryomen sukuna #smut #jjk smut

[eddiesxangel]

Take Me to the Lakes | E.M x f!reader ~ 1/6

AN: Hello! This is a very overdue, completely revised version of one of the first Eddie fics I ever wrote. Hopefully I fixed all of the issues and things I didn’t like. Fingers crossed I didn’t miss anything… hope you enjoy!!

Master list

Summery: This summer was suppose to be the summer to work at your favourite place in the world with your best friend. But things take a turn when it isn’t your best friend you end up working with.

CW: camp AU, counsellor!eddie x f!camp counsellor reader, popular!reader, 18+ content, drinking, weed consumption, angst, eventual smut, fluff, reader and Eddie are in their 20’s. Part 1/?

wc: 13.4k

Finally, your last freshman year of college exam was behind you. Summer was at your fingertips, and you couldn't wait to get it started. Summer was when you could escape the pressures of college life and the expectations of the people in your hometown of Hawkins. Growing up, you were incredibly popular. You were on the student council, a competitive dancer and co-captain of the cheer team in high school. Dancing was your passion; you enjoyed all styles, from jazz and contemporary to ballet and hip-hop. Cheerleading was also important to you; you made the team in your first year of high school. Although you never set out to become part of the popular crowd, your involvement in these extracurricular activities naturally led you to that status.

“Hey! Wait up!” You turn and see your best friend Ashley running towards you as you exit the university campus doors. “I can’t believe you’re trying to sneak out on me before you’re gone for the whole summer!” She exasperated. “It’s not my fault you didn’t send your resume in time! I put a good word for you and everything.” You huffed back with an eye roll. You and Ashely were supposed to work at the sleepover camp where you’ve been a counsellor for the past two summers. Yet Ashley conveniently forgot to submit her application in time.

When you started working at Camp Murdock, nobody knew who you were. It was a fresh start, a clean slate. The camp is located about four hours north of your hometown, and people from all over come to work there for two months during the summer season. Maybe it was the natural surroundings, but you broke out of your shell during your first summer there.

You were no longer labelled as the prude-popular-teacher’s pet cheerleader; you were just you, the loud, outgoing, funny, and goofy camp counsellor. The campers loved learning silly dances to camp songs with you, and you truly felt like yourself at that camp. This summer, you were looking forward to spending time with Ashley, the one person from back home with whom you feel comfortable being yourself. Unlike yourself, Ashley is a confident and independent girl who never adhered to societal norms or cared much about what others thought of her. She was always the one to speak her mind, dress the way she wanted, and hang out with whomever she pleased. Her free-spirited nature and carefree attitude were a breath of fresh air for you, especially since you've always worried about fitting in and what others thought of you. You had hoped that this summer, you could let your guard down and be yourself, only this time with your partner in crime.

You and Ashley were like two individuals from different worlds. While you were more inclined towards mainstream activities, Ashley had a unique taste in hobbies and interests. She was a passionate photographer who loved capturing the world through her lens. Ashley was also a big fan of the Dungeons and Dragons fantasy game and punk music, and she didn't care much about conforming to social norms. Then there was Ashley's style. She was equally distinctive and rebellious. She had short hair, which was always styled in an edgy way. She loved to wear dark, smokey makeup with lots of eyeliner, which matched her punk-inspired wardrobe. She often wore baggy flannel shirts, big jeans and combat boots – a look very different from your own.

Walking together, you two were like a study in contrasts. You attracted many curious glances from the people around you, especially freshmen not used to seeing such different styles. However, over time, people got used to your strikingly different looks and learned to appreciate the uniqueness of your friendship.

“Ash, why couldn’t you submit your application on time?!” You groan as someone catches your eye, walking out of the parking lot.

Him. The guy you’ve been crushing on since the tenth grade. The upper-class man who was supposed to graduate the year you discovered who he was but was held back a few years. When he finally graduated, you saw him around town occasionally, but now you watched as he exited the corner store across the street from the school.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me; you couldn’t have—” she cut herself off, noticing you were practically drooling at who caught your eye. “You know you could just talk to him? I always talk you up when we play DND.” she raises her brow. “And say what? Hi Eddie, I’ve been in love with you for three years now. Would you please go out with me?” Ash rolls her eyes in response. “Babe, you know you’re one of the most popular girls in Hawkins. You can have any guy you want! You need to try. Start with a ‘hello,” she said, pushing your shoulder toward his van. “Ashley Joanna Thompson, stop!”Just because you’ll never have boy problems…” you frown at her. “You’re right. I only have girl problems. Men are simple creatures, ” she states as a matter of fact. You once again roll your eyes and glance over one more time in Eddie’s direction, seeing him light up a cigarette as he drives off the lot, blasting his heavy metal. You sigh as you get into your car and drive you and Ashley back to your shared apartment.

After returning home, you took a moment to relax and celebrate your successful day with a refreshing drink. You then continued to pack your duffle bag, carefully considering which items you would need for your upcoming trip. As you packed your last-minute essentials into the bag, you couldn't help but feel a sense of nostalgia and sadness thinking about Eddie Munson. You remembered the brief encounter with him in the parking lot and realized that this would be the last time you would see him for the rest of the summer.

As the clock strikes 10:00 pm, you try to calm yourself and get some rest for the long trip tomorrow. However, your mind is preoccupied with thoughts of Eddie, and you can't seem to shake this crush off your mind. You've only had the chance to speak to him three times, and they were all brief and awkward "Heys" when you picked up Ash from the DND club. Despite the limited interactions, you find yourself constantly thinking about him and wondering what it would be like to get to know him better. The more you try to push him out of your mind, the more persistent the thoughts become, making it difficult to focus on anything else. You wonder if it's just a fleeting crush or if there could be something more to it.

When you settle into bed, you let your mind drift off to when you first saw him…. As you made your way through the labyrinthine halls of the school, your mind was preoccupied with the task of finding the drama room. You had promised Ashley that you would pick her up after cheer practice and didn't want to be late. After a few twists and turns, you finally saw the door you sought. Glancing at your watch, you realized you were already 15 minutes behind schedule, thanks to the practice running over its allotted time. Without hesitation, you reached for the door handle and pushed it open. “Hey Ash, I'm so sorry I’m late! Practice—“You stop dead, looking at the group of eyes staring up at you. Your cheeks burned, and you felt embarrassed when you realized they weren’t done yet and had interrupted. “Oh, I’m so sorry. I thought I was late.” Giving Ash a knowing look to say, “Help me.” “It’s ok, babe. We will be done in 15 minutes. Right guys?” She looks around at the rest of the club to confirm; your eyes watch each face to ensure they all nod. “Sit with me,” she smiles. You walk around the group of guys, plus Ashley, smiling meekly as they all stare with mouths open but one. As you saunter towards Ash, you notice all eyes follow your every move. When your gaze meets his, you feel a sudden and unexpected surge of fluttering in your stomach. His eyes are big, beautiful, and the colour of warm chocolate. They exude a softness and warmth that make you feel safe and secure.

His hair is longer than any other guy's at school. It falls in soft waves around his face, giving him an air of mystery and intrigue. You can't help but wonder what it would feel like to run your fingers through it. You notice the leather belt he's wearing, with handcuffs as the buckle. It's both alluring and dangerous at the same time.

His shirt is cut off at the elbow, revealing his forearm tattoos. On his upper arm, you see a group of bats, their wings spread wide as if ready to take flight. But it's the tattoo on his inside forearm that really catches your attention. It's a marionette puppet of a monster, but it was being controlled by a hand. It’s a strange and eerie tattoo, but it only adds to his mystique.

“What’s with pompoms?” One of the other guys asks, jerking you out of your trance. “Don’t be such a jerk, Jered. This is my best friend,” Ashley scowls back. Suddenly, you’re very self-conscious about the cheer practice uniform you had on. “I’m sorry to interrupt again; please continue.” You squeak, trying to keep the peace. The group of them roll their eyes, all but him.

You basically run out of there as soon as Ash is finished. “Who was that?!” You nod your head in his direction as you watch the group if them walk away. “Who? Eddie? He’s our Dungeon Master. He's really theatrical, and he makes you picture the scene,” she laughs. “Eddie,” You sigh. “Oh no, you’re joking, right? You’re a cheerleader, and you’re telling me Eddie Munson is your type?” she almost yells while they’re still in earshot. Clasping your hand over her mouth, you look at Eddie, hoping he didn’t hear anything. “Would you shut up? Why don’t you announce it to the whole town?” You spit through your teeth. “Besides, he didn’t even look at me. I’m some scrawny 10th grander. I’m probably not even his type! You see his tattoos, leather, and chains… he’s probably into rocker chics, and he’s what?” “12th grade,” she confirms, and you groan. “I’ll put in a good word,” she teased. “Would you?” You bite my fingers, giving her the best puppy eyes. “You owe me.” She rolled her eyes.

That was three years ago, and Ashley's “good word” clearly wasn’t doing anything. So you roll over in bed and finally doze off.

—

BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP

Your alarm clock jolts you awake, and as you groggily reach over to turn it off, you notice the bright red digits displaying 6:30 am. Your first summer day has finally arrived, but you don't get to savour it with a lazy morning. You stretch your arms and rub the sleep out of your eyes while taking a moment to appreciate the soft light filtering through your window.

As you start your day, you decide to wear your favourite camp clothes—a pair of well-worn jean shorts and last year's Camp Murdock heather grey tank top. Camp Murdock is printed in green to match the forest-green spaghetti straps. You slip on your trusty white Keds and take a moment to admire how perfectly the outfit fits you in the mirror.

Before saying goodbye to Ashley, you pack your food and prepare yourself for the long journey ahead. You have four hours of driving before you reach the camp, but you can't wait to get there. The day is filled with excitement, counsellor bonding, and cabin preparation - all in preparation for the campers' arrival in three days.

As you hit the road, you let your mind wander, thinking about all the camp activities you'll enjoy. The warm sun streams through the car window, and you can feel the anticipation building up inside you. You know the journey ahead won't be quick, but you're ready. You take a deep breath and let the adventure begin. The sweet smell of the nearby lake is in the air, adding to the excitement of being up north. It's so strong that you can almost taste the cool, refreshing water on your tongue. You can't help but feel excited as you imagine the adventures that await you at Camp Murdock.

The camp is 20 minutes from the main road, providing a sense of seclusion from the hustle and bustle of everyday life. As you inch closer, the aroma of the surrounding Birch trees fills your senses, as does the sweet scent of freshly cut grass and wildflowers. After an arduous 4.5-hour journey, you finally arrive at Camp Murdock.

Your blissful thoughts were rudely interrupted by a big van cutting in front of you, nearly hitting your front bumper. “Asshole!” You yell out the window while giving the finger. The driver gave a mocking wave as they sped off. This road only goes to one place. You’ll give them a piece of your mind. Minutes later, you arrive and pull up beside the van that had cut you off. You slammed the door as you exited your small red Ford sedan, still feeling furious. This was definitely not how you wanted to start your day. As you huffed and puffed, you noticed the van looked familiar… but no, it couldn't be the same. It was different; it had to be.

You look around the parking lot and notice other cars from past employees, but you don’t see anyone yet. You feel a small butterfly in your stomach, thinking, what if it is the van you think it is? As you take a moment to absorb your surroundings, you notice the quaint cabins, the inviting mess hall, and the mesmerizing beauty of the lake. You can't help but feel a sense of peace and tranquillity as you stand in your happy place.

The gentle waves of the lake, the rustling of the trees, and the chirping of the birds create a serene atmosphere you never want to leave. Every time you come here, you feel refreshed and renewed, ready to face whatever life throws.

“Bambi! you made it!” You whip my head around to see Robin, your best camp friend, whom you’ve worked with for the past two summers. Every year, counsellors are assigned nicknames a few days before the kids come. “Birdie!” You embrace her in a big hug, forgetting about the van and the possibility of who it belongs to. “How are you?! How did you get hotter? I didn’t think that was possible. Come, everyone’s already here! And you have to meet the newbies.” She smiles. You leave your belongings in the car and rush to the mess hall with all the other staff. “So, see any cuties so far?” You jokingly giggle. “Oh, just you wait,” she blushes, making her cheeks the same shade of pink as her tank top. Glancing around, you see our other alumni. “Hey, guys!” You wave enthusiastically. Your best camp friends, Steve, a.k.a. Moose, Nancy, a.k.a. Scout, and Billy, a.k.a. Coyote. They all embrace you in welcome hugs, and you cannot wait to catch up.

You stood scanning the vast wooden mess hall, taking in the rustic ambiance of the place. As you gazed down the rows of brightly coloured picnic tables, a sense of excitement and anticipation began to build up inside you. You were looking for new faces, hoping to meet someone interesting. But deep down, you knew that there was one particular face you were subconsciously seeking out - one that held a special place in your heart.

As you walk around up to greet more of your fellow coworkers, the memory of the van still lingers in the back of your mind. You can't shake off the ‘what if’ feeling you've been carrying since you saw it earlier. You try to push it to the back of your mind and focus on the task at hand—socializing with your colleagues.

As you make your rounds, exchanging pleasantries with familiar faces, your eyes quickly dart across the room. Out of the corner of your eye, you see a figure — a guy with long, curly brown hair dressed in all black. He seems to be in a hurry and is quickly exiting the building from the opposite side of the room.

You can't help but wonder who and what he's up to. You try to catch another glimpse of him, but he's already gone. Curiosity catches up to you, and you excuse yourself from the conversation. You ungracefully maneuver your way through the sea of people, weaving in and out of the throngs until you finally reach the red saloon doors to exit the mess hall. Taking a moment to pause and assess your surroundings, you are struck by the lake's serene beauty. The water is calm and placid; you know it will no longer remain this still for the next three months. The sun shines brightly overhead, casting a brilliant glow across the water's surface. The light is so intense that it almost blinds you, but you can't help but be awed by the breathtaking view before you. You quickly look over to the cabins and see no one. Then, looking to the left, you can see the sports field, not a soul. Where could they have gone? You think. “Bambi, where did you go?” You hear Coyote, a.k.a Billy, behind you. “I thought I saw someone… guess not.” You shrugged. “Don’t worry, you’ll meet everyone. We’re about to start introductions by the pit.” He smiles. “Ok, let’s get going!” You jump onto his back, and he piggybacks you to the fire pit. You met Billy last summer, and he became a very close friend. He and Steve were your go-to guys for anything.

As you and Billy approach the fire pit to greet the other counsellors, you can hear them chatting and catching up before sitting on the bleacher benches around the pit. “OKAY, CAMP, MURDOCK STAFF, TAKE A SEAT AND LISTEN UP!” The camp director, Carol’s voice echoed from the megaphone. You all listen, and you sit between Billy and Robin. “All right, councillors and staff. Let's review some ground rules before we get to the good stuff.” It's good to know Carol’s megaphone still works. “I know some of you are vets here at Camp Murdock, but we have some new faces, so we need a refresher.” You watch Steve roll his eyes as he sits across from you, and you stifle a giggle. Carol continues, “Basic ground rules: Staff are not to be out of their cabins after 11:30 pm, and staff are not to be in the lake alone or unsupervised by another staff member. Staff are NOT allowed to have a romantic or physical relationship with a camper... That said, staff can be with each other if it is consensual, just not during camp hours.” Carol’s eyes graze the crowd as the groans for the guys all come out in sync. This was not a new rule per se, but it was heavily enforced. Last year, Angela and Connor were caught making out in the barn while they were supposed to be on field duty, and both were fired on the spot. “We, here at Camp Murdock, value the experience of the campers and our staff; we know you want to have fun, and you can do whatever you like after camp hours, as long as it’s legal.” That got some giggles from the crowd. The staff were known to sneak in alcohol and pot from time to time on your off days between camper rotations or just in the evenings to blow off some steam. “What are camp hours? I’m so happy you asked! Breakfast is 8:00 am to Bonfire at 8:30 pm. Campers are in cabins by 9:25 pm. That allows councillors to do what they like before we all have to be in our cabins by 11:30 pm on the dot! Do I make myself clear?” Again, her gaze scans the crowd of young adults in front of her, and you see the crowd nod simultaneously. “Good,” she sighs. “Now, Each cabin will be assigned a bit differently this year. Four councillors per staff cabin instead of our usual 6, and camper cabins will be assigned with 2 councillors for 8 campers. Our ages of campers this year remain the same, eight to sixteen years of age. All cabins will be assigned randomly, and you cannot ask to switch with someone… I will assign that later, before the campers arrive, so you and your partner can set up the cabins as you see fit. Next onto the good stuff!” Carol explained the games and how she would divide the staff into six teams.

Those who had attended the event knew that having Steve and you on their team guaranteed victory. Due to your petite stature, you were small enough to blend in and navigate through the trees without being detected, while Moose, a.k.a. Steve, was the fastest kid in the state for three consecutive years. Together, the two of you were an unbeatable team.

“ALRIGHT, LISTEN UP!” Carol’s voice booms in the megaphone again. “Listen for your names to be called! First, we have the Green team…" your name is not called, “and Next is Purple…” still not called. “Okay, Red Team…” still nothing. “Fourth up, we have the Yellow team…” you hadn’t heard your name yet… “Ok Blue… Edward Munson…” At first, you don't realize it because no one at home calls him Edward, but then you lift your head abruptly when it hits you. Your eyes darted back and forth, scanning the area for a man whose name had been called.

Finally, you spotted him descending the bleachers two rows behind you. He had his brown curls tied back in a low bun, wearing a Black Sabbath shirt with the sleeves cut off, revealing his muscular arms, and his signature black skinny jeans hugged his lean legs. A cigarette dangled from his lips, adding to his rugged, rebellious appearance. You watched, transfixed, as he made his way down towards Carol. He flashed her his charming smile as he approached her and accepted his new counsellor shirt. “Edward, no smoking.” She grabs the cigarette from his mouth and puts it out with her foot. “Whatever you say, boss lady,” he smirks at her and walks to the rest of his team. You looked over to Robin, who was being called next, “Oh my god, it’s him!” You half-whisper to her as she gets up. “What?” she looks confused. “Robin Buckley,” you hear Carol call again. “From school! That’s the guy I’ve been talking to you about since last summer!” You glance in his direction. She smiled and wiggled her eyebrows as she went down so Carol would never call her again. “Miss. Buckley,” for the third time, sounding irritated. “Sorry Carol, I’m coming!” she grabbed her shirt and smiled. “OK! Last, we have the Pink team… Rebecca Dawson, Jason Adams, Connie Tilbury, Christopher Jenkins, Ashton Richards, and last but not least, Y/N.” She smiles, finishing the roll call. As you get up and walk over to Carol to collect your camp shirt, you look over to see if Eddie hears your name being called. As you stare over, he doesn’t even glance. He is too busy listening to Robin talking his ear off, pointing in your direction while standing next to Steve and the others on the Blue team.

As the day progressed, you took a lunch break and caught up with Steve and Robin in the line for food.

“That new guy is pretty badass,” Steve exclaims. “Oh, Bambi would know.” Robin winked. Your cheeks suddenly felt flush. “What am I missing?” Steve looks between the two of you. “Bambi looooooves him.” Robin smiles. “Bird, remember how we talked about you sharing too much? You’re doing it again,” you said in a singing voice to avoid sounding mean. However, your face was a dead giveaway as Steve looked down at you. “Edward? That guy is your type?” His voice was loud a little too loud “Would you shut up? Announce it to the whole camp, why don’t you?” You huffed. “No wonder Billy couldn’t get in your pants last summer,” he said half under his breath. “Hey!” you smack his chest with your empty cafeteria tray.

"Jeez Bambi, chill!" Steve defends himself.

“Coyote is just a friend, and there is no way he flirted with me last summer?” You watch, and Robin and Steve look at each other and then back at you, shaking their heads like you’re the crazy one.

“So tell us more about this, Edward.” Steve raises his eyebrows. “He likes being called Eddie.” You mumbled. You didn't enjoy discussing school and home when you were here. This was your escape, but Steve was a trusted friend. “He’s two years older, and he’s really good friends with Ashley. You know, my best friend from home? and I don’t know; I’ve had a big fat crush on him since the tenth grade.” “Billy’s not going to like this; he has competition.” Steve laughed. “No, he doesn’t because I don’t like Billy like that; now I’m not sure I even like him anymore, knowing he was only trying to sleep with me last summer.” You crossed my arms.

As you were about to continue, Billy and Nancy joined the group, and the subject changed. After finishing lunch and the last two activities, we were all called to the sports field to split into our capture-the-flag teams.

“ALRIGHT PEOPLE, LISTEN UP!” The megaphone was more ear-piercing than ever. “Remind me to bury that thing tomorrow.” You hear Eddie mumble to Steve, and you cannot help but giggle. “The teams will consist of Yellow, Red and Green as one and Blue, Pink, and Purple as the next team. However! I will split up Steve and Y/N to make things an even playing field this year.” Your head whips to Steve, and he mimics you before you both yell, “WHAT?!” in unison. “Common Carol, that’s so not fair!” Steve yells out. “Too bad, Moose. You’ll be with the Yellow, Red, and Green side this year; it's the final decision.” Your shoulders sink with disappointment as you watch Steve walk to the other team, cheering and greeting him with open arms. “Alright, I’ll give you 20 minutes to strategize, hide your flag, and devise a game plan. We meet back here at 3:00 p.m. on the dot!” She blows her whistle, and you move to our headquarters, the lifejacket shed. The group moves as one, and you notice who else is on the team. Birdie, Scout, and, most importantly, Eddie. The rest of your friends move to the front, taking on team captain rolls, while you linger behind, trying to summon the courage to speak to Eddie. This was your chance to get friendly; the universe gave you an opportunity, and you had to seize it.

Eddie lingered at the back of the group, and you slowed down just enough, pretending to tie your shoe so he could catch up with you.

“Hey, Eddie.” You smile at him. Eddie looked at you curiously and was a little caught off guard as if he wasn’t expecting anyone to talk to him. “Oh, uh, hi.” He was curious as to how you knew his name. “I didn’t think I would see you here this summer.” You giggle. “Uhh… yea…?” Eddie had no idea who you were, but he did know one thing: you sure were pretty.

Your facial expression betrays you as you attempt to force a smile, revealing the true emotions bubbling beneath the surface. He didn’t know who you were. You are only with Ashley twenty-four-seven back at home, attached at the hip, and he still has no clue. You feel a rush of heat creeping up your neck and spreading to your cheeks, a tell-tale sign of embarrassment. So you choose to give a slight nod, try to laugh it off and turn back so you can catch up to Robin and Nancy.

How could you be so stupid to think he would know who you are?! Of course, he wouldn’t know. He doesn’t care about cheerleading, pep rallies, or anything else. You reach up to touch the messy bun atop your head and yank out the white scrunchy so you can hide behind your hair, trying to make yourself feel better. As you catch up with your friends, they can see on your face that something is up.

“Oh, don’t get too upset. Bambi, we can still beat them even if Moose was forced to abandon us this year.” Nancy encourages, oblivious to the real reason as to why you’re flustered. “We saw you talking to him; how’d it go?!” Robin smiled. “I’m such an embarrassment; he didn’t even know who I was.” You bury your face in your hands. “I thought you said he’s mutual friends with your BFF,” Nancy, always the observant one, asked. “Ugh, he is! That’s why I’m so embarrassed.” You let out a groan and gazed up at the clear, blue sky. “I’m sure if you reminded him that you are friends with Ashley, he would remember?” Nancy reassured you. “I don’t want to talk about it. Let’s focus on the game." You and the girls round up the team. “Ok, we take this game very seriously here at Camp Murdock.” Nancy huddles you in. “We can still win this thing because Bambi is our secret weapon. Bambi wave so everyone knows who you are.” She smiles. You put on a fake smile and wave at everyone, avoiding one person’s set of eyes in particular. Robin then takes over, “I say we make a diversion. Everyone splits up into two, throwing off the other team. Scout and I will stand guard for our flag.” She points to herself and Nancy. “Now we need someone really fast,” you chime in. No one raises their hand but one. Oh god. “Okay, Edward, you and Bambi will be together, and we will use the same strategy she and Steve used last year.” “She can fill you in. The rest will be split into pairs, and we will point you where to go,” she finishes. “Uh, you can call me Eddie; no one calls me Edward.” He politely corrects.

After the instructions, Eddie makes his way over to your side of the huddle while the rest group off to their side on their own. You're going to kill your friends. They know what they’re doing… “Hey, Bambi? Right?” he smiles. “Uh, um. Yeah, obviously not my real name… but Bambi is fine.” Your mouth was dry, and you felt you had forgotten how to speak. “Sorry about earlier. It’s, um, you look familiar, but I’m not sure where I have seen you before… ” He scratches the back of his head, his bicep flexing as he reaches up, and you can’t help but gawk at him. “Yea!” You say a little too enthusiastically. “I’m y/n, you know…Ash’s best friend…” Suddenly it clicks, and you can see the realization in his eyes. How could he have not known? Maybe its because you’re in your natural state. You have no makeup on, and your hair isn’t all done up either. “I guess I’m not used to seeing you out of your cheer uniform or attached at the hip with Ash,” he chuckles. “So, what are you doing here anyway? I didn’t think anyone else from home would show up here.” You ask. “Well, you know, I had my side business as a dealer at school… that got me by, but after my little run-in with chief Jim Hopper a few weeks back, I decided to take a break for the summer, lay low.” He smirked as you listened. “ I thought Ash would also be working here this summer since she wouldn’t stop talking about it in Hellfire, which gave me the idea. I thought it couldn’t be that hard looking after the little twerps, it’s good money.” “Yea, she really screwed me over with that one,” You scoffed. “Same… we should get her back.” He smirks. “Yeah, totally.” “So, Bambi, huh?” He raises a brow. “Oh yeah, it’s um, just a camp thing. Don’t worry you’ll get an assigned nickname soon enough.”

A moment of more awkward silence fills the air before Eddie decides to speak again. “So, what is the master plan everyone talked about back there?” He asks. “Oh umm, uh, so, usually, uh, what happens, is um, that because I’m um smaller, I uh, hide in the tree line once one of the… uh, other team members finds where the flags are hidden, I sneak off to grab it, and then uh, I’d pass it off Moose—Steve, who’s like the fastest kid in the state, but he’s not here so I’ll be passing it to you and all you have to do is to our zone then we win.” You catch your breath. You’re totally rambling and sounding like an idiot. Why can’t you speak in front of him? “Oh…ok, sounds good.” he looks confused, like he is trying to process the jumble of words that fell out of your mouth, but he gives a reassuring smile. When he looks at you like that, your legs feel like Jello, your heart feels like it will fall into your stomach, and you hardly look him in the eyes. His smile is soft and tender compared to his rough and tough exterior.

So far, things seem to be going according to plan. You both have taken cover behind a fallen tree that has become a makeshift shelter. The tree is old and decaying, and the bark peels off in places. The silence between you and Eddie is palpable, and you can feel the tension building up. You want to break the silence and talk to him, but every time you try, your words get stuck in your throat. You can't help but feel slightly envious of Eddie's calm demeanour, which contrasts sharply with your nervousness. You wish you could be as composed as him, but your mind is racing a mile a minute. The longest ten minutes pass, and finally, you can see Robin running towards the two of you. Thank God. “Ok, the flag is by the infirmary; we just need to distract them.” You walked closely behind Robin as you both made your way through the field, with tall grass tickling your ankles as you walked. You could see the lake's shimmering waters in the distance, and the sounds of laughter and chatter from the mess hall carried towards you on the gentle breeze.

Despite the distance, Robin seemed to know exactly where she was going, her steps confident and sure. You walked closely behind Robin as you both made your way through the field, with tall grass tickling your ankles as you walked. You could see the lake's shimmering waters in the distance, and the sounds of laughter and chatter from the mess hall carried towards you on the gentle breeze.

As you walked, you couldn't help but wonder if Eddie was really as fast as he claimed. After all, if he weren't, it would be quite a defeat. In all your years at school with him, you’d never seen him doing anything physical. He was more of the theatrical, misunderstood musician type. “I hope you’re not lying about being fast.” You whisper to him, not thinking about anything else but the game. “What the freak can’t be quick?” He scoffs. “That’s not what I—” “There it is!” Robin cuts you off, but you can’t help but think about what Eddie said…Freak.

The thing about Eddie Munson is that he stood out from the crowd. He was unlike anyone you had ever met. He had a unique personality that not everyone could comprehend. He was always edgy and outspoken, and he never cared about the status quo. One day, during lunchtime, he even stood on the cafeteria table and screamed at one of the basketball players sitting at your table. It was a shocking event that left everyone in the cafeteria stunned.

However, despite his eccentricities, you always admired Eddie's courage to be himself. You didn't like how everyone at school called him a freak, and you always tried to defend him. You stood up for him whenever your so-called friends made fun of him, but they never listened to you. They would mock you for "sympathizing with the freak," and it made you feel isolated.

Despite all of this, you never gave up on Eddie… your attraction to him was too strong. You always knew that he was a kind and genuine person, and you appreciated his unique perspective on life. You hoped that one day, others would see him for who he truly was and accept him for his differences.

The neon yellow flag was posted beside the infirmary door, and you could see the guards on the lookout. Ashton was rounding the corner, and Robin approached the other side as a decoy. “Follow me,” you whisper to Eddie. You could feel his gaze on your back, burning a hole through the thin material of your shirt. “On the count of three, I’ll run over, grab it and bring it back here for you. One… two… three.” You scurry as fast as your legs can take you. You grabbed it easily, but getting back was the hard part. On the way back, you made sure to hide behind objects, making sure the coast was clear until you heard a “Hey!” Steve’s voice came from behind you, and you ran. “Eddie here!” You yell to get his attention. You should have worn your sports bra today. The straps of your tank top and bra are slipping down your shoulders. You totally forgot that you would be doing this when you got dressed this morning.

As you rush towards Eddie, you notice his eyes widen as he watched you run towards him. You hand him the flag, and he takes it from you, holding it tightly in his hands. You can tell that he is not sure what to do as he stares at you, unable to move. You watch him for a moment as he continues to gaze down at you, his wide eyes focused on your chest. “What are you doing? Go!” You give him a little shove, taking him out of his trance, and then he runs like you have never seen anyone run in your life. The guy was right; he was fast.

You can hear cheering from across the field as you try to keep up with him while running away from Steve, trying not to get tagged. “Eddie, run! He’s coming!” You yell to warn him and he looks back. His long hair getting in his eyes, but he can still see Steve on his tail. “Come on, Eddie, you can do it!” You cheer, hoping he can still hear you. You watch as he touches the team's safety zone! You did it! Your team won! “Sorry, Moosey, maybe next year.” You give him a mock pout as he bends over to catch his breath. “Congrats to the winning team!” Carol cheers. “Now you can make your way to the pit. I’ll give you your cabins, and you can set them up.”

“Hey, you were right. You are fast.” You hear Becca say as the group of you return to the pit. She batted her eyes and smiled at him. Was she flirting with him? The pit of jealousy that was forming felt like a rock in your stomach. You could not let this happen, so you marched over to them. “Hey, we make a pretty good team.” Bumping Becca out of your way. “Hey, yeah, we do.” Eddie spoke and you noticed the glint in his eye when he raised his hand for a high five. A playful smile tugged at the corners of his lips, inviting you to join in on the fun. You mirrored his action, raising your own hand to meet his. When both of your palms touched, a jolt of electricity ran through your body, making your heart skip a beat. You couldn't help but smile back at him as he beamed with delight. “I liked having you cheer for me; I finally get why those jocks have you around all the time.” He smirked, and your cheeks burned once again… maybe you can blame it on the sun. “Oh,” you giggled. Thanks…Um, you know, I don’t like it when you say you’re a freak…” The end of your sentence was hardly a whisper. “Oh, well, it was your friends who started it.” You wince at his words. You hate who he thinks you are, and it is all your fault for letting him believe that you are just like the rest of them. “I ask them not to, but they never listen.” You tuck your messy hair behind your ear. “Don’t worry, Princess. You don’t have to worry about that high school bullshit anymore. “Princess?” You scoff. “Well, you were the Princess of Hawkins High.” He says it is a matter of fact. “No, wasn't, you know nothing about me,” “Woah, sorry, didn’t mean to offend you.” he raised his hands in defence. “What’s going on?” Billy, out of all people, comes running up. “Nothing,” you say simultaneously. “Back off, man.” Billy was getting in Eddie’s face. Why was he acting so weird? “What the hell, Billy? Get away from him.” You tried to shove him, but Billy was a foot taller than you and much stronger. “Look, man, nothing happened.” Eddie backed away. “I’ll see you around, Princess.” He winked and walked off to the pit with everyone else. “That guy is-” “Billy, not now.” You huff, trying to walk away. “Come on, Bambi, what’s going on…” “Nothing, let’s get going.” You pull on his arm to get to the pit.

Eddie never meant to hurt your feelings or make you uncomfortable, but he couldn’t help himself; there was just something about you that he couldn’t resist egging you on. You were so cute when your face would scrunch up and think you looked all mean and scary, but in reality, he could compare you to the mouse from Tom and Jerry. His need to push your buttons was strong. Your perfect, cute, irresistible buttons. Eddie had an urge and wanted to see how far he could go. From the moment you first got flustered, he enjoyed it; he liked making you flustered.

At the pit, you were all lined up to get your assigned cabins. Every cabin was assigned by gender, so girl councillors were assigned with girl campers, and boy councillors were assigned with boy campers. Thankfully, you were assigned to cabin 8 with Robin, Nancy, and Cassie, a.k.a. Clover, one of the nicest girls you know. “I'm so happy we are all back together again this year!” Nancy jumped up and down. The three of you have been inseparable the past two summers. “You guys are so lucky you're bunked together; we’re with the two newbies, Eddie and Ashton,” Billy said while walking beside Steve. “At least we’re cabin neighbours!” Nancy observes, seeing that they were assigned to cabin 7. “Bambi, this is great; you have your own little spy squad,” Robin winked, and you rolled your eyes. “What are you talking about Bams?” Billy asks. “Bambi knows Eddie from home and—” You clasped your hand over Robin’s mouth, not wanting to make anything weird since Steve shared the information about Billy liking you last summer. “And nothing.” You finished her sentence. The boys looked at you confused, but you were sure Steve would tell Billy later, seeing as they’re best friends. You didn’t want anyone overhearing since Eddie and Ashton were coming your way. “Hey guys, what are we talking about?” Ashton approached the group with Eddie by his side. “Bambi was telling us how she and Eddie are from the same hometown,” Billy piped up. “Yea, Princess of Hawkins High here,” Eddie smirked. “Please don’t,” you begged. You hadn’t shared your home life with your camp friends, and you didn’t want that to follow you here. “What’s he talking about, Bams?” Nancy asked. “What? You haven’t told them about how you’re Hawkins it girl? Popular cheerleader, homecoming queen, or ringing any bells?” Eddie questioned. “So you do know who she is!” Robin gasped. “I’m more than a cheerleader.” Your eyes stinging, holding back tears. Was that how Eddie only saw you? You guess that’s the persona you were trying to give off; you cannot blame him. But that will all change; you will make it your mission to have Eddie Munson know the real you. Your friends look at you with puzzled faces. “I mean, that makes sense. Of course, you’re popular; you’re one of the best people we know.” Nancy piped up. “Thanks, Scout.” You gave a small smile.

—

Setting up Cabin 8 was a piece of cake. You took the bottom bunk, and Cassie took the top. Robin took the other bottom bunk across from you on the other bed, and Nancy took the top bunk. You got along great with your bunkmates; you were really lucky. If anything, you could have been bunked with Sarina and her group, and that would not have gone over well.

As you helped the girls unpack their bags after arriving at your cabin, you looked out of the window and noticed that you had a perfect view of cabin 7.

You took a moment to admire the lush greenery and the serene surroundings, but your attention was quickly diverted when you noticed Eddie walking in and settling down on his bunk. You could see that he had his guitar with him, and he placed it right across from your own bunk.

After helping others with their tasks, you suddenly realize you have left all your belongings in your car. You decide to inform the girls that you needed to run to the car and retrieve your duffle.

As you step outside, you hear the sound of another cabin door being opened, but you ignore it and focus on getting your stuff. You walk briskly towards the parking lot, scanning for your car. Once you locate it, you quickly unlock the door and retrieve your duffle bag. As you are bent over in the back seat of my car, grabbing your things, a voice startles you. “Could get used to the view,” Eddie smirked. “Ahhh!” You jerk up “fuck!” You turn to see Eddie getting his things out of his van parked beside your car. “Excuse me?” “The lake, God, you’re not that full of yourself, are you?” He chuckled. “Oh, right,” you say, rubbing the back of your head, knowing you will soon have a headache. “You know, I wasn’t going to say anything… but you cut me off,” you say, pointing at his van. “Wouldn’t have to if you drove faster.” “I was going 20 over as it was!” “You know, Princess, I see why Coyote likes you,” he smirked. “What? I, huh? Don’t call me that,” He just smiled and walked away carrying his duffle. His arms showed the curve of his bicep, straining to hold up the big bag, the sheen of sweat glistening on his skin, the tattoos being showed off. You bite your lip, watching him walk away. You really needed to get laid this summer.

—

After dinner, you and the girls had drinks to loosen us up before going to the bonfire. It had been a while since the last time you drank; with finals and studying the past month and a half, no one was partying.

The booze made you feel warm next to the fire, and you could see Eddie sitting on the other side of the bonfire. You couldn’t help but stare until he caught you, and you tried quickly to look away. The second time he catches you staring that night, it didn’t bother you as much as it would have if sober. That was until, the third time within half an hour, he got up. Oh god, you made him uncomfortable.

“Like what you see?” Eddie sneaks up behind you, and you jump at the sudden closeness. “I can’t see much; there's too much smoke in my eyes.” You try to play it off. “Oh, too bad, Princess, because my view was quite clear, had a great view.” he winks. “What did I tell you about calling me that?” You groan. “You’re not helping yourself by acting that way, Prince—” he stops mid-sentence, seeing that you’re giving him a side eye, but he continues on, “Princess,” “I’m not acting like a Princess.” You rolled your eyes, only further proving Eddie’s point. “Could have fooled me, ” He shrugs. “Obviously, you’re not very good on judgment of character.” “No? Enlighten me.”

“Is there a problem here?” Billy somehow appeared again out of thin air and wrapped a protective arm around you. Oh god. “No, Coyote, we’re fine.” You debated whether to take his arm off your shoulder, but you wanted to make Eddie jealous. “I’ll see you around, Princess.” Eddie turned and walked back to the newbies he was befriending. After Eddie leaves your sight, you exhale and shake off Billy, noticing that Eddie is no longer paying attention. “Next time he bothers you, you can come and tell me.” Billy was stern, serious; he had a look in his eye like he’d knock the shit out of him. “Seriously, I’m fine… I gotta go, have an early morning choreography to do.”

—

The sun was shining brightly, casting a warm glow over the campgrounds. The excitement of the upcoming campers filled the air, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation for the day ahead. As the camp's dance teacher, this was your favourite part of the summer. You loved watching the kids grow and improve their skills while helping those starting out.

As you made your way to the dance hall, you could feel the excitement building within you. The hall was empty, as expected, but you could already picture the kids dancing and laughing within its walls. You walked over to the stereo, put down your towel and water bottle, and tied your hair into a high ponytail, ready for the day ahead.

The room was stuffy and hot, with no airflow to speak of. You could feel the sweat starting to bead on your forehead, so you opened up all the windows, letting a refreshing breeze fill the air, and walked over to the standing fan, turning it up to the highest setting.

As you prepared to start your day, you reached for the mixtape you had created earlier to warm up. The tape was filled with various tracks that you thought would help get you in the right mood. You walked over to the boombox and inserted the tape, pressing play. The boombox was filled with all of your favourite songs, both new and old, from various genres. Your taste in music was eclectic, and you didn't like to limit yourself to a particular genre. You enjoyed everything from classic rock to pop, sometimes metal. If a song appealed to you, you liked it, regardless of its genre.

As the music filled the room, you felt yourself beginning to relax and get into the right mindset for the day ahead. The sweet lyrics of Whitney Huston filled the empty room, and you began getting into the movements but not really warming up anymore because the heat alone did that for you. The next song came on and you made a mental note not to use this tape when the kids came to class. The song that came on wasn’t the most appropriate.

You swayed your hips slowly, getting into it. You don’t dance like this in front of anyone unless you’re in class with friends or on stage. You typically hid your sensuality for only the dance floor or when you were having sex. You know that back at home, you are labelled as a prude, but if they only knew…

As the song progressed, so did your movments. You continued down to the floor, snaking your body before popping your hips up and down quickly before sliding back up sensually. As the music moved, you felt the need to let your hair down so you would incorporate some hair-ogropy. Deciding to get off the floor, you went to stand up but slid your hands up your inner thighs, grazing over your pussy lips, hardly being covered by your dance shorts, and continued to trail your hands up past your hips to your breasts.

You turned and swayed until you caught Eddie gawking at you in the mirror. He quickly shut his mouth when he realized you'd seen him. Honestly, if it were anyone else, you would have stopped immediately being embarrassed to expose yourself like this, but you were in your element, and this wasn’t just anyone watching. You wanted him to watch, so you continued as the song went on. Thinking of the sexiest moves you could come up with. The music suddenly stopped, and you felt thirsty. You hurried towards the sound system to turn down the volume and grabbed your water bottle. You sprinkled some water on your face and took a sip before realizing that Eddie was present in the room.

“Are you just going to continue undressing me with your eyes, or are you going to say something?” You smirked. Dance really brought out the confidence in you that normally you didn’t have. He was speechless, but you finally had the upper hand. “Uh..I…um… I thought this was the music hall.” Eddie gulped, but his mouth was dry. “No, it’s the next door over.” You smiled up at him taking one step closer so your bodies were almost touching. “You uh… you’re going to teach that to the kids?” He tried to joke, but he still sounded out of breath. “No, that’s usually reserved for a special audience.” You bite your lip. “Oh, who’s that?” His confidence coming back. You. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” You took another step closer, so close you could smell his aftershave mixed with his mint toothpaste.

His lips were plump and bright pink, probably from biting them, and his eyes were locked on your chest. You were sweating, and you could feel a bead trickle down between your breasts. He quickly looked back up to your eyes when you cleared your throat.

“I guess I was wrong about you, Princess.” He licked his bottom lip. “You don’t know the half of it.” You turn and walk back to the stereo to turn on the music again. You looked back as you turned the dial. “I’d love to continue this conversation, but I have some choreography to complete before they arrive tomorrow.” You nodded your head to the door, signalling him to leave. “Oh, uh…ok yea, I’ll just um. Thanks.” He picked up his guitar case and ran out.

-

After all the dances were complete, you headed to the communal showers. The water was always freezing, so you never wanted to stay there for long, but that cold water felt nice on your hot, sticky skin. You started to hum a random song as you ran the soap along your body.

You didn’t even realize that you actually started singing instead of humming. You must have felt comfortable enough because you only sing when you’re alone.

You're done showering by the time you’ve finished the one song; camp showers really were the quickest. You reach for your bath towel and dry off inside the stall before reaching for your clothes, but then remember that you didn’t bring clean ones. All you had was your sweaty shorts and sports bra… You quickly leave the stall, praying not too many people will see you walking back to the cabin in just your towel.

Unbeknownst to you, Eddie was walking by the communal showers when he suddenly halted because he heard one of the most beautiful voices he had ever heard singing an Ozzy Osbourne song. He couldn't resist stopping to investigate. He needed to know who was on the other side. Eddie had been hypnotized, so he didn’t notice that he had been creeping closer and closer to the door to try to hear better over the running water. He was mesmerized by that voice.

When the water turned off, the singing stopped, bringing Eddie back to reality. He realized where he was and what he was doing. Tripping over his feet, he quickly stumbled back, leaving enough space between him and the fire to not look like an absolute creep. But he decided to hang around for a minute or two, pretending to fix his guitar just so he could find out who the mysterious voice was.

As you walk out of the showers, you see Eddie looking just as surprised as you were. Just your luck; the one person you did not want to see while you looked like a wet dog was standing there as if he was waiting for you. You wrap the towel around you tighter, seeing as though you are naked, and you try to avoid him, but he starts speaking. “You know, Ozzy?” He asked, dumbfounded. Oh god, did he hear you? “Uh… yea.” “You have a beautiful voice,” he says without thinking. Of course, it was you. Was there anything you couldn’t do? Eddie thought. You’re extremely smart, athletic, kind to everyone, and you fuck with metal? Why had Eddie never noticed you before?

When you locked eyes with him, his stomach felt like a thousand butterflies had awoken simultaneously. Everything suddenly made sense when he looked at you. The feeling was foreign to Eddie; he didn’t like it. Sure, he had liked girls and had a girlfriend or two, but nothing serious; never had he experienced this strong of a crush develop in such a short amount of time. He tried to swallow it; he wanted to eliminate this feeling, especially because it was you; he was unworthy of it. You deserved someone better. Before Eddie could think his legs were bringing him close to you, he wanted to be near you.

“What?! You heard me?” “I didn’t mean to. You were loud, and I couldn’t help but listen… but not in a bad way!” he said, waving his arms in defence. Was he spying on you? “Fuck! I’m sorry you’re naked, oh god, I mean, I wasn’t looking or anything, I swear! I just needed to know who that voice belonged to! Im sorry, I'll let you go get dressed; I’m not a freak who creeps on girls, I swear!” Eddie was rambling; Eddie didn’t ramble, not like this. Eddie was cool and confident, especially with girls. Eddie was in trouble.

“Eddie, I don’t think you’re a freak. Maybe a perv if you keep walking in on me in these situations.” you giggled. “But this is Murdock, not Hawkins, clean slate for the both of us.” You gave a reassuring smile. “For the both of us?” He questioned “I’m not who you think I am back at home,” you smirked as you began to walk away.

“What does that mean?” He yelled before you were out of earshot. You looked over your shoulder and gave a wink, letting the towel slowly slip as you approached the Cabin door, but you didn’t let him see anything before you walked inside. “God, this girl is going to be my death this summer,” Eddie mumbled to himself.

—

You called Ashley as soon as you were dressed. You had to walk to the office swing as there was only one phone for the staff and campers to use.

Ring, Ring, Rong, Ri-

“Hello, Thompson residence,” Ash answered “You son of a bitch!” You laughed. “Well, hello to you too,” you can hear the smirk in her voice. “You just so happened to leave out the fact that Eddie Munson has also applied for a job here?!” “Oh yeah, did I not tell you?” “Is this why you didn’t apply?! because you knew I’d be alone with him?” You questioned. “No! I genuinely forgot! But happy accident, no?” she laughed. You twisted the cord around your finger and crossed your legs thinking about it. “I cannot believe you didn’t tell me this vital piece of information.” “I thought it would be more fun this way, ya know? I get the theatrics to keep me entertained while you’re gone.” She was such a little shit “Oh, I’m so glad that my infinite crush on Eddie entertains you,” you chuckled. “Babe, come on, you’re in such a good spot! You’re the it girl, you’ve always been; you gotta loosen up, show him the real you. You’re made for one another he doesn’t know it yet because you don’t talk to him.” she emphasized. “Don’t worry. I’ve talked to him more these past three days than I have in the past three years.” You smile. “Details now!” she screamed. “I think he flirted with me while I got my stuff from my car? And he keeps calling me Princess? He said I’m the Princess of Hawkins High. You know anything about that?” There was a clear silence. “Ash!” The slice told you everything. “Ashley” “What do you want me to say? I’m surprised you didn’t know. Everyone loves you; it’s not a bad thing…” “Whatever, I haven’t gotten to the best part!” “Finally,” she sighed, and you could picture her rolling her eyes. “So I was making my dance routines before the kids come, and I had my mixtape on, so you know I was doing my thing because I was alone, or thought I was alone…” “Stop! he walked in on you?!” She gasped. Of course, your best friend has seen the types of dance you do; she is one of the most supportive people you’ve ever met. “His jaw was on the floor! and I didn’t stop, I don’t know what came over me. I just kept going; it was like my body was on fire but in a good way, not sure how else to describe it.” “Babe, oh my god, you’re going to have him in the palm of your hand before you know it.” She reassured. “And to top it all off, he bumped into me after I got out of the shower just now and told me I have, and I quote a beautiful voice.” You sighed like a lovesick teenager. “Bitch! I repeat, you’ll have him in the palm of your hand. I know what he’s like; he’s one of my best friends.” she exclaimed. “Hey! I’m your best friend.” “What I mean is one of my best guy friends… I know how he is, what he likes; trust me, he’s going to like you.” Ash really was an amazing friend. “I just don’t know if I’m his type. That nagging feeling is in the back of my head again.” “He told me once that you’re pretty,” she said nonchalantly. “What?! You’ve never told me anything before?!” “eh, guess I forgot?” Ash shrugged her shoulders. “Forgot? Ashley, come on! Im dying here. I like him so much I feel like I’m going to explode, and that is vital information.” Why would she not tell you? Maybe you’re too annoying, always talking about your crush on Eddie? “Forget Princess of Hawkins, let’s crown you as Drama Queen,” she laughed. “Shut up, enough about me. How have you been?”

— As the new day dawned, the campers eagerly anticipated their arrival at the campsite. After settling into their cabins, they were introduced to their surroundings and felt a sense of excitement in the air. Each camper was eager to make new friends and start their adventure at the camp.

The first day was filled with the joys of getting to know one another, playing games, and indulging in meals that were prepared for them. As the dance instructor, you were given the task of planning your activities for the first week. While dance was your specialty, the campers would be exposed to other activities throughout the week to keep them engaged.

Mondays were dedicated to dance, with Tuesdays offering swimming and other water-related activities. Wednesdays were all about music, Thursdays for sports and nature, and Fridays for arts and crafts. Campers could expect to rotate these activities throughout the week to avoid getting bored with any one thing for too long.

The highlight of the week was undoubtedly Tuesdays, the day when campers could take a refreshing dip in the lake. Even though swimming was designated for Tuesdays, there was free time every day for campers to explore their interests and engage in other activities, individually and with their new friends. As the summer sun beat down, the opportunity to cool off in the lake was a welcome respite for all campers. The schedule ensured that everyone could try out different activities and make the most of their time at camp.

Nighttime was an all-around favourite. After everyone was settled in their bunks, tummy full of S’mores and smelling of bonfire smoke, you, Nancy and Robin walked together towards the mess hall to find the guys playing cards. “What are we playing, and what do I get when I win?” You asked as you opened the doors. Steve, Billy, Eddie and Ashton all turned their heads to see the three of you walking through the red saloon doors. “Don’t you have campers to look after?” Steve joked. “Could say the same to you,” Robin retorted back “Touché.” He smirked. “Well, now that you girls are here, we’re playing strip poker,” Billy laughed. “Always the charmer,” You winced. “Hey, I don’t make the rules.” He raised his hands up in defence. “Fine, I know I’ll be able to stay warm while you freeze your balls off because I’m going to win.” You stare him down. Billy seemingly always had a new way of getting on your last nerve this summer. After finding out he wanted to sleep with you, all of your fond memories of him have been tainted.

“Yeah, like some girl will beat us at poker? Right guys?” Billy chuffed. The other guys knew better than to start with you or the girls. They weren’t so blockheaded as Billy was. “Not that we are excited to see your tiny dick, but shut up and deal.” You sit down, and you hear Steve, Eddie and Ashton chuckle. Yes, you are competitive, and after that exchange, you were more than ready to beat his ass.

The game went on; Nancy, unfortunately, not the best poker face, was out first, forfeiting before she was naked. Steve, Ashton, and Billy were in their boxers, and Eddie and you were still somewhat modest. All you had left was your hoodie, bra, and underwear, where Eddie had his jeans, socks, and underwear still on.

When his shirt came off, you almost lost your cool. Never had you seen him shirtless before, and it was just as good as you pictured him. He was toned, more than you had imagined, and he had more tattoos than you knew about previously. You had only seen what was on his arms before, but now you got to see a spider tattoo under his left collarbone and a zombie head under that. He has another small heart right above his right hip bone, directly beside when his happy trial started… Robin has to nudge you to break your stare before he notices.

Billy’s comment still burned in the back of your mind. You had to get it together; you couldn’t falter, and you only had fifteen minutes before you had to get back to the cabins. “So you want to call it a night, or are you ready to show me some more skin?” you asked, biting your lip. There were audible “ooooohs” coming from the other's mouths. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you, Princess?” The game was getting too close until you picked up on his tell. His tongue would peek out of the side of his mouth when he was bluffing. You caught it just in time; you were about to fold when you noticed. “I raised you 15… and my bra.” You run your hand under your hoodie to unclasp it and place it on the table. Thankfully, you wore the nice red lacy one and not the boring brown one.

Eddie's big brown eyes doubled in size, which you didn’t think possible when he saw what you had been hiding under the oversized sweatshirt that hit your entire figure.

“Come on, we could have seen her like that all night if one of you were better at poker.” Billy some showing his true colours of being a total douche. You try to ignore his comment. “Nancy, do me a favour and kill Coyote for me, will ya?” You asked while staring into Eddie’s eyes. You knew you had him. “I gotta hand it to your Princess. You sure know how to keep a guy on his toes.” He folds, not showing you his hand. You breathe a sigh of relief that you didn’t know you were holding. “That, boys, is how it’s done.” You clap, and the girls cheer

The rest clear out, talking about the day tomorrow and their plans. You go to reach for your winnings bra, but Eddie's fingers clap around your wrist, not hard but firm enough for you to stop. He grabs the bra by the strap and twirls it around his finger before you comprehend what is going on. “I think I’ll keep this.” He admires it. “Uh, no, I won, I get it back. You scoff. “But did you win, Princess?” He pouts down at you. “You folded.” You say, standing up to reach for your bra. “Uh-huh, not so fast.” He lifts it higher over his head so it’s out of reach. “Come on, Eds, give it back.” You jump up to grab it, but obviously miss. Eddie liked it when you got visibly flustered, especially when you called him ‘Eds’ for the first time. “I couldn’t let those guys see you topless; what kind of gentleman would I be? Especially after you took your bra off? You heard what Billy said; he’s disgusting; how do you even like him?” Eddie shows you his cards, full house; he wasn’t bluffing. “You let me win? But I caught your tell?” you said with disbelief. “And no, I do not like Billy. He likes me, that’s it. I thought he was my friend last summer, but it turns out he was only doing it to get in my pants.” Eddie was glad and relieved to hear you don’t like Billy but also annoyed and angered that he would treat you like that. “Good to know.” He smirks. “So, my bra?” You try to give him your best puppy dog eyes, but he beats you in that department. “My winning token. I think I’ll hang this trophy over my bed and have the campers see what a real woman’s bra looks like.” He winked and turned around. Eddie couldn’t wait to rub in Billy’s face that he kept it. “Hey! I better get that back by the end of the week! You don’t know how much that cost!”

Sure, you were annoyed, but you were also a little exhilarating that Eddie wanted to keep it.

—

The next morning, you thought if you could bribe Eddie, he would give back what belonged to you. You got up early to get some coffee and bring it to his cabin to negotiate.

As you returned from the mess hall, you could see three little heads peeping into the window where Eddie’s bed was. “Hey! What are you creeps looking at?” You can’t help but giggle as you watch three petrified faces turn around. “N-n-nothing, BYE!” The tallest one stuttered, and the three of them ran. By that reaction, you had a feeling it was your bra they were gawking at. You knocked on the door three times and slowly opened it up. “Hey, it’s just me. Is it safe to come in?” you asked, not looking into the cabin in case they had been changing. “All clear, Princess, just me in here,” Eddie replied. You opened the door further and almost dropped the coffee you were holding.

Eddie stood there in all his glory, in a beach towel wrapped low on his hips. He must have just showered. His hair was wet and pushed back off his face. Water droplets still ran down to his happy trail. He had more tattoos on his legs and abdomen, but you didn’t catch what they were as he pulled his forest green Camp Murdock shirt over his head.

“Take a picture; it will last longer, Princess.” He laughed, and you snapped out of it. “I uh, um, sorry, here.” You stuck out your arm out to hand him his coffee. “You trying to poison me, Princess? That’s not very regal of you.” He smirked and took the cup. “It’s a piece offering… for my bra,” you stated. “Oh, I don’t think so; you can’t just bribe me with this sad excuse they call coffee. I have my standards.” He stepped closer to the bra hanging exactly where he said it would be. “I think I won this fair and square. I’ll need something much bigger than coffee, Princess.” he tilted his head, raising his eyebrows at you. “Fine, what do you want? A pack of Camels? Weed? Beer?” “You know I already have all those things, but I’ll think about it. Maybe I’ll ask for a favour? I’ll cash it in soon, but until then, it stays with me.” He took a step closer. “You know, a real gentleman would have walked me back to my cabin last night; I was defenceless, not even my bra to support me if I was being chased.” You mimicked him, taking another step closer.

Eddie had no clue what to think. Were you filtering back? No way. Girls like you didn’t go for guys like him?

Eddie had been around the block a few times regarding dating. He was no novice in the game of love, but he had a particular type that he usually went for. The girls he pursued were nothing like you. Unlike you, they were bold and unafraid of getting down and dirty. They were rocker chicks who were not intimidated by Eddie's tough exterior. However, as much as he enjoyed the company of these girls, he knew deep down that they could never be the ones he truly desired.

“You, Sir Lancelot, are no gentleman.”You laughed, unable to keep up the act.

"Lancelot, huh? Is that name anointed camp name?" He smirks, and you nod.

“My sincerest apologies, Princess.” Eddie bowed to you and you laughed again. Eddie swore he could listen to that laugh on repeat. “I’ll consider your apology if you give me my bra back. It’s my best one.” You bat your lashes and give the biggest puppy dog eyes. Eddie didn’t know how, but you broke him with that look. Your eye colour memorized him; it was quickly turning into his favourite colour. “I-I-I” what was happening to him? Why was he blubbering like a preteen asking out his crush for the first time? Pull yourself together, Munson. “Fine, I will because you are the Princess, and I am your knight in shining armour.” Nice. “Knight in shining armour, you say? I think you’ll have to prove yourself more before I believe you.” You brave another step closer, and the tips of your toes touch. “How can I do that, M’Lady?” “I have an idea.” You slowly raise your toes until your head is up and close your eyes. “Princess? What are y—“ “Oh hey guys, oh sorry, was I interrupting something?” Stevewalked in. You let out an annoyed huff. You were so close that you were sure he was about to lean in. “It’s fine. I was just leaving.” You gave Steve a death stare that Eddie had never seen grace your face before. “What did I do?” Steve looks at Eddie. “Beats me.” Eddie shrugged before he took the first sip of the coffee you got him. To his surprise, it was exactly Eddie’s coffee order.

Next chapter

Tags: @littlexdeaths @siriuslysmoking @peachysink @nailbatanddungeon @leelei1980 @daisy-munson @taintedcigs @take-everything-you-can @strangerstilinski @bl0ssomanddie @seb-buckybarnes @chickenandsheep-blog @lokis-army-77 @ali-r3n @erinekc @impmunson @snowflowersstars246 @micheledawn1975 @princesatracionera @bells-28

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson au #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #Eddie Munson x popular!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x f!reader #take me to the lakes #part 1

[sweets3rial]

bubbles and cuddles

inspired by this request

id!leon x fem!reader

summary: you haven't seen your boyfriend in a while though luckily, after a long mission and an even longer day, you arrive home just in time. you spend the rest of the night loving on each other gently before falling asleep in each others arms.

tags: tooth-rotting fluff, domestic fluff, so smut, smutty innuendos, canon universe, lots of kissing, bubble bath, bathing each other, little to no dialogue, reader works at bsaa and leon works at dso, undressing each other, mentions of violence and injuries, infinite darkness or death island leon in mind

word count: 3.8k

your radio was blasting the loudest music to keep you in high spirits and also to keep your eyes from shutting. you exited the freeway and tears were pricking at your eyes from holding them open for so long. you just needed to get home. you needed to.

your whole body was sore. you could barely lift your arm without wincing in pain. the bruise on your shoulder was only getting worse.

it’s funny how the body works. on the field, you couldn’t feel any pain. a sting here and there but most of the time you were able to fight through it. but the minute you stepped off the field, it was like every bone in your body had been reduced to dust.

the adrenaline was no longer running and your brain could finally rest, leaving your body in shambles.

the nurses said there was nothing wrong. A dislocated shoulder that they popped right back in was all they needed to do, now your shoulder is swollen, your blood busy on healing that certain area which left you light-headed and extremely exhausted.

it was rare that you and your boyfriend were put on the field at the same time. though, he works in a different division under the government. his job was similar to yours, keep the bioterrorists from spreading, investigate the area, eliminate anything infected, and report back to the higher-ups what you found in extreme detail.

you haven’t had time to sit down and spend a full night with your boyfriend in over a month. it was like the minute one of you got home the other had to leave, whether it was for a meeting, a mission, or just to be in the office as backup.

it was a constant cycle. you went home to sleep and awoke to go to work. it was on the clockwork. the minute you got a call, there was no ‘five more minutes’ or ‘i’ll just call out’. you had to get up and go or else lives would be lost.

it’s a cruel world you lived in, one that many many people weren’t aware of.

you smelt of blood, shit, and piss. your hair was oily and frizzy, it hurt to breathe, you could still taste the ash in your mouth, and gunpowder had made its way underneath your nails.

you couldn’t wait to get home; to your bed, to food, to safety, to peace. you couldn’t wait to get home to your boyfriend, the love of your life.

you couldn’t wait to cuddle into his warm arms and press your skin against his. he was your home, your escape from all the piss and shit in the world. he was your comfort, his embrace was like a barrier to you and the only person who protected you when you weren’t protecting yourself.

you could let your guard down around him. you could sink into him and cry, you could cry and sob in his arms and all he did was comfort you.

Leon was everything you wanted in a man, not only is he the most handsome man you’ve ever laid eyes on, but he was also such a great partner. he is caring and sweet, he’s structured, intuitive, and organized, he’s dedicated to his work and getting the job done and well he has humor.

he’s a bit sarcastic and cocky at times but all it does is make you laugh.

he’s intelligent, coordinated, and a great observer.

you truly believe you fell in love with him because of how he is on the field. the one time you two coincidentally ended up on the same terrain at the same time and when you truly got to see him at his full potential is when you knew you were falling for your coworker, basically.

he was quick. his eyes constantly moving, taking hints and notes of every movement around him. he was able to observe and analyze, which is why you couldn’t hide anything from him.

he knew what was wrong with you from one glance. he could read you like a book. he could see the pain, the sadness, the hurt. it got even worse as your relationship grew.

he took note of your behaviors and your words, what you did and said when you were upset. even the tone of your voice. you couldn’t lie to him, you were forced to communicate with him because he wouldn’t leave you alone until you told him what was wrong.

that’s why you love him. there were so many other reasons. you could go on a tangent as to how and why you fell in love with the D.S.O’s golden boy.

you turned the radio down as you pulled into your neighborhood, your fingertips itching to reach home.

it was late and quiet. the sky was clear and deep indigo color, letting the stars gleam to their full potential. the moon was full and you could see every crater from where you sat in the driver's seat.

the streets were lit up with the moonlight, a blue hue casting down onto the sidewalk and the roofs of the houses.

no one was awake, not even the stray cats, it was still and silent.

as soon as you pulled into your driveway, you could care less about how you parked and whether the car alarm was on or not. you stumbled out of your car heels in hand and made your way towards your door.

to your luck, just a few steps, the sound of a puttering motor was heard down the street. you knew that sound anywhere. who else would be zooming down the street loudly this late at night?

you couldn’t help the smile that arose on your cheeks as you turned to see your boyfriend just turning onto your block.

of course, he had no helmet on. even after telling him multiple times to wear one. he always shrugged it off and said he was fine. though you were always worried, there’s been many many times that he’s crashed and destroyed his previous bikes.

you were scared that one day it’ll be his head next.

his deep brown hair was whipping in the wind, his eyebrows furrowed to keep himself from falling asleep and he was gripping the handlebars with pure impatience. he needed to get home.

once he caught eye of your car and then your figure standing in the dark cold night, he couldn’t help but go faster. the sight of you eased every muscle in his body.

he needed to get to you and make sure you were okay. he was glad to see you standing on your two feet, home, and safe.

though you were wearing a thin white button-up, the sleeves rolled up and some buttons undone. in this shirt, you could move easily in and even though he loved the way it clung to your figure, he also wished you wore something warmer.

he’s told you many times to wear something thicker that way you didn’t come home sick. but you insisted on wearing something that gave you easy mobility.

guess you’re both stubborn.

there you were, standing with a hazy smile on your lips, holding your shoulder and slowly dragging yourself towards the end of the driveway to meet him.

he carefully pulled into the driveway and next to you. his heart filled with warmth as he got a faint whiff of your perfume. he put his kickstand down as he put a stop to the engine.

he couldn’t wait to hold you and kiss you. he could tell from the look on your face and the way you were carrying yourself, you were exhausted.

your body practically slumped into his and a heavy sigh left your lips. he ran his hand up and down your back and lifted you onto his lap, being weary of your legs making sure they wouldn’t burn on the pipes.

you wrapped your arms around him and went weak in his embrace. god, you needed this. you missed being held by him.

he guided your legs around his waist, rubbing his gloved palm up and down the skin of your thigh soothingly. no words needed to be exchanged as he lifted both of you up and off the motorcycle and over towards the front door.

you were glued to him, holding him tightly as he carried you up the porch steps. you nuzzled yourself further into the crook of his neck and took a deep breath of his cologne. it was such a comforting smell.

warm cedarwood, fresh pine, and hints of sweet vanilla. his shampoo smelt fresh like mint along with the scent of his gel and sweat.

one arm held you close to him while the other worked on getting the door open once he stepped inside, you hauled yourself onto him and the tip of your toes. you kept your hands on his shoulders, roughly massaging his tense muscles, ignoring your pain, and looking into his eyes.

bloodshot and glossy with heavy bags. he melted into your touch, eyes fluttering shut and a sigh leaving his lips. both of you had a long long day.

there were no words that needed to be exchanged, you walked backward as he walked towards you. your hands went from his shoulders to his zipper. slowly undoing his leather jacket until you could see his plain navy blue t-shirt underneath.

he shrugged his jacket off letting it fall at his feet. as you took a step backward onto the stairs, he wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you close to him.

he nuzzled his face into your chest, placing soft kisses on your skin. his hands traveled up and down your back, feeling at your figure. your shoulder blades, your spinal groove, the curve of your ass. he just wanted to feel you.

he caught the way you winced as he squeezed you closer to him and he loosened his hold on you.

no one knows how much he missed you, how much he missed holding you, and the feel of your skin against his. he was glad he got home when did, if not, you would probably already be asleep.

he looked up at you, his chin buried in your cleavage. you brought your nose to his, nuzzling them together and sucking in a deep breath from your nose. god, you missed him.

you brought your lips to his in a deep and passionate kiss, spilling all the words in your heart to him, all the lonely late night and all the bad days, all the words you never got to say while he was gone, and all the words you wished to say.

his hands traveled from your back, around to your stomach, and up toward the buttons of your shirt. he slowly began unbuttoning each one, he wasn’t in any rush and he wasn’t undressing you out of lust, he just wanted to feel you.

he swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, begging you to pry your mouth open so he could taste you. your legs went weak at the feeling of his warm tongue against yours and his hands slowly peeling your shirt off of your skin.

he threw it somewhere onto the steps, keeping his mouth on yours as he took a step forwards which further urged you to continue up the stairs.

you two slowly undressed each other as you made your way to the bathroom, neither of you daring to pull away from your kiss.

by the time you two got to the bathroom, he was left in his boxers and you were left in your underwear. your arms were wrapped around him, your body pressing closer and closer to his. he was all yours tonight, there were no missions or meetings or phone calls.

it was just you and him.

you turned around briefly, leaving his lips with a wet smack, bending over into the bathtub, and then turning the faucet on. the sound of water pouring into the bath drowned out the sound of heavy pants.

you shut the drain and reached for the jasmine bubble mixture sitting on the side of the tub. meanwhile, he was busy walking up behind you and rubbing up and down your sides. you stood up straight, leaning into his touch as you poured bubbles into the warm water.

he brought his head down onto your shoulder, kissing your bruised skin before slowly making his way up your neck and to your ear. his arms wrapped around you once again, pulling your back closer to his chest.

“missed you,” he whispered into your ear, playing with the hem of your panties.

“i missed you more,” you sighed out blissfully as you turned around to face him.

in a split second, your lips were on his again, teeth clashing and tongues morphing together. he worked you out of your panties as you worked him out of his boxers. his hands found their way under the purchase of your ass, giving your cheek a nice slap — prompting you to jump.

so you did, wrapping your legs around his torso and locking your ankles together. he stepped into the tub, the bubbles tickling his skin and the warm water soothing his sore muscles.

he slowly sat down in the water, more focused on keeping up with your pace. he could tell how much you missed him, you were kissing him without pulling away for a breath and you were clinging onto him like a koala would do with its mother.

your bodies were slowly succumbed by the soapy water, the smell of jasmine in the air, and the sound of smacking lips echoing off the walls. his hands traveled up your back, one hand working on splashing your back with water, rubbing the soap into your skin, and massaging your spine. the other hand worked on holding the back of your neck, keeping your lips pressed to his.

your fingers tangled themselves into his hair, scratching and rubbing at his scalp which earned you a satisfied moan. he pulled away briefly, throwing his head back and against the back of the tub.

you lifted yourself off of his lap and turned around to shut off the water. the water shut off with a squeak, a few stray drops escaping into the heap of bubbles and then there was silence. you leaned back against his chest, the water and bubbles covering your chest and ticking your chin.

he let his heavy arms come over your unwounded shoulder, his hands searching for yours in the water and eventually he found them. slowly gathering each of your fingers and intertwining them with yours.

you leaned your head back against his chest, shutting your eyes and letting out a sigh. you could hear the water sploosh and splash as he reached over for the washcloth at his side. he dipped it into the water, soaking it with the soapy water before lifting your arm.

he brought the warm cloth to your arm, continuing to place kisses on your shoulder and he washed your skin. he gently lathered the soap into your skin, even if he was exhausted he was never tired to help you.

he continued to lather your body, wiping away at the sweat and grime, kissing at the cuts, and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. his breath was hot and heavy, his words were like lullabies and his voice was like a drug.

you sank further into him, close to passing out until you remembered you needed to wash him too. you reached for a spare cloth, copying his actions and dipping it into the water. you turned to face him, straddling his lap and sitting on his thighs.

you placed a lazy kiss onto his lips bringing the cloth to his neck. you lathered at his shoulders while he lathered your back. your bodies stayed pressed together, not a single inch of space between you two.

he pressed kisses to your collarbone, not wanting to leave your embrace for a second, his body chased yours when you leaned away, his lips stayed on your skin and his eyes glued to yours.

it was moments like this you treasured the most. skin to skin and nothing but love. slow tender touches and silence. you two could be comfortable with each other without saying a word, every touch and every kiss spoke for itself.

the water had slowly become less warm, now murky from the dirt and grime that had stuck to your skin. he reached for the drain, unplugging it and letting the murky water drain.

both of you stood up at the same time, supporting each other as you stood to your feet. Leon turned on the faucet and switched the water to the shower head. you loved baths but everyone knew marinating in your bath water wasn’t ideally hygienic.

so, for the next twenty minutes you and Leon sat under the running water and at this point, the weariness was getting to you both. your eyelids felt heavy and your body was ready to shut down. a yawn left your lips and you leaned your head against Leon's chest.

“sleepy?”

you replied with a nod and he hummed, nuzzling his nose into your wet scalp and placing a kiss at your hairline. he wrapped one arm around your waist while the other reached to the faucet. he turned it off with a loud squeak.

silence filled the room, and only the stray droplets of water were heard. steam gathered at the roof, heavy with the scent of jasmine and citrus. you stepped out of the shower, your boyfriend not too far behind. he reached for your towel, fluffing it out in his hands before turning to you.

your arms were crossed over your chest, your teeth clattering and your shoulders bouncing up and down. he chuckled a bit, he found it cute.

he pressed the towel to your cheeks, squishing them together and intently puckering your lips for him to bend down and place a warm kiss on your lips. he continued drying you off, pressing the warm towel into your body until your skin was completely dry.

he scrunched at the ends of your hair, catching any stray droplets that fell onto your skin. meanwhile, he was pressing kisses to your face.

on your eyelids and brows, to the cold tip of your nose, to your soft cheeks, your chin, and the tips of your ears. he treasured every inch of you and his lips on your skin only lulled you deeper into a daze. you wanted to sleep so bad.

but you couldn’t leave him wet and cold. you reached for another spare towel, doing the same, squishing his cheeks and bringing your lips to his. he couldn’t help but smile against your lips, wrapping the towel around your neck and tugging you closer.

his lips moved against yours in perfect sync, he knew what you liked - a slow and passionate pace. he sucked at your tongue, moaning at your minty taste. he had you backed up into the wall, hands at your hips pressing you closer against his half-hard cock.

his lips left your tongue and then his teeth went to pull at your bottom lip. he knew exactly how to get you riled up. if you weren’t so tired, you would’ve fucked him so so long ago.

“let’s get you to bed, hun.” he hummed, you nodded in agreement, wrapping the towel over his wet hair like a hoodie and tugging at each side to pull him back towards your lips. you left a quick kiss on his lips before turning to leave the bathroom.

your bed was the same way as you left it. undone with blankets and pillows thrown everywhere. you didn’t care to get dressed, you needed to sleep naked, damp and all.

you slid into bed, your limbs completely giving out on trying to carry your weight. Leon watched you slump into bed, he wasn’t so far behind. he crawled in after you, chasing the warmth of your body.

you both got situated under the covers, rubbing each other's legs against one another - his hairy ones and your smooth ones. you couldn’t help but chuckle at the feeling. your bed was warm and soft and his arm draped over your side was heavy and secure.

you were at home. this is what you missed the most. him. even if you were sleeping on the cold streets as long as you had Leon, it was home.

home for you was wherever he was.

you nuzzled yourself into his chest, moaning comfortably as you entangled your legs further with his. your left thigh onto top of his and then your right on top of his other. he held the back of your head securely against his chest, massaging your scalp with the pads of his fingers.

you shivered, it was that feeling when you were so comfortable and so soothed to the point you just quivered. a small laugh erupted from his chest and then his lips found your forehead.

“get some rest, hun,” he whispered to you deeply. his command for you to fall asleep was like a switch. your body felt heavier as if it was sinking into the mattress, you couldn’t move even if you wanted to. your body was slowly succumbing into a deep sleep.

Leon waited for your heavy breaths to begin, he continued massaging your scalp and peppering kisses onto your skin. he wanted to wait to fall asleep, he finally has you in his arms after a very very long week. he isn’t going to waste a second.

he took a moment to admire your sleeping state, cheek squished against his bicep, damp hair splayed out onto the pillow above you, and lips agape. you sucked in deep heavy breaths, your chest pressing against his with every inhale, then falling with a light snore.

he tucked some of your hair behind your ear, away from sticking to your cheek. he ran his thumb over your eyebrow then over your lashes, careful not to bother your sleep. though, he was sure if the house collapsed you wouldn’t even budge.

your eyelids fluttered at his touch, your lashes tickling your cheek as you did so. he placed one last final kiss on your nose before turning away to yawn.

he rested his head back down against the pillow, further nuzzling himself against your naked body.

his limbs were becoming heavy. his eyes fluttering shut and the last thing he saw before he fell asleep was you.

the beautiful face that he would later wake up to. though for now, he’ll dream of you and what the future holds for you two. he’ll dream of a happy life with you away from the city, a dog or cat, children, and the weight of a ring on both of your fingers.

he’ll dream of your warm smile and your voice, your touch and your love. he’ll dream and dream until he has to wake up to reality. but at least that reality was with you by his side.

(divder cred to @saradika,, pics from pinterest)

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy fluff #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy fanfic #leon s kennedy #resident evil #leon scott kennedy #death island leon

[sky-is-the-limit]

'I make guarantees.'

Phillip Graves x F!Reader

Summary: As a member of the TF141, it comes naturally to be aggravated by Phillip Graves. Pair that with every fiber of your body, mind and soul desiring him, and you have a ticking bomb ready to explode. Basically, porn without plot.

CW: Angry sex, jealousy, possessiveness, degradation, violent/explicit language, mention of blood (minor), unprotected sex.

WC: 4,712 words (oops)

Notes: I'm not a writer!

Phillip Graves was no ordinary man. He was the sort to blaze through your soul like a wildfire, allow you to feel the kind of passion and intensity you only find between the lines of a fantasy tale and then leave ashes behind, forever engraved in your skin.

As if sensing his gaze, you turned to look at Phillip. You only spared him a passing glance though, smirking just before turning back to laugh at a joke Johnny told, too crest for the other man's tastes.

This was the second mission where you had to collaborate with the Shadow Company for a more effective outcome, meaning you had to be in his overwhelming presence once more. Someone outside watching in would think that you hated each other, whenever you'd interact. You always tested his limits, toed every line that you could cross with every action, with every takedown.

Perhaps you did, deep inside. Hated him for igniting feelings in you so intense that would only resonate to you either banging your head against a wall or let him fuck you against one.

Phillip showed his interest straight away, from the very first interaction the two of you had during your first mission, his arrogance and cockiness oozing out of him as though he had no ordinary blood running through his veins. Pair that with the way he was talking to Johnny, the closest squad member to you, you had to turn down his advances, which unsurprisingly, hurt his fragile ego and ever since, all remarks exchanged between the two of you were like bullets destined to kill.

Once more, you found yourself in the common area of your temporary base, left alone to face him. Your leisure time of listening to Soap's silly dad jokes and good conversation over coffee was cut short when Phillip walked in.

Johnny did not have the patience to ignore him and his snarky comments that he had to physically get away from him, and you did not blame him one bit. Was it your pride or something else forbidding you from exiting right after?

''It's pathetic really.'' His posture was starker than usual, his eyebrows furrowed, his lips tight as he leaned against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. Though you had your back turned on him, you could feel his gaze devouring you whole.

The abruptness startled you, but keeping your composure, you set your coffee down on the table and turned to look at him.

''Your entire existence? I know.'' The words came out in a furious rush and you felt a bead of sweat drip down your back under your black shirt. It was a nasty habit, at that point. You couldn't even finish one argument without starting another and the one brewing was the second one that day.

''How you flirt with him to get my attention, Y/N.'' Phillip's voice was low and irritated, and it set your emotions ablaze, a roaring inferno within your mind. 

“Of course, because it's always about you. I definitely talk to my squad member specifically to get your attention, silly me.'' The minute he walked in, you prepared yourself for this. It would be abnormal for an interaction between the two of you to not turn into an argument.

''He's so boringly predictable that I caught you looking at me at least 50 times. Go on though, I do enjoy the show.'' Arrogance was dripping off his tongue like second nature, along with that all familiar smirk that made your insides hurt.

''Don't you ever get tired of hearing your own voice, Graves? Or do you get off of ticking every box in the 'how to be a perfect narcissist' list?'' You shrieked, hating the way your voice came out your throat but the way in which he threw his shoulders back and laughed in a cruel tone made you see red.

Suddenly he was much closer, leering down at you. It wasn't clear to know who moved first, or who would next.

''Me? A narcissist? You're the one who wants every man's attention on you.'' He growled lowly and stood to full height, his demeanor making you swallow thickly as he loomed closer and stared you down. Out of habit you straightened your spine, lips curling back into a scowl.

''Shut your fucking mouth, Graves-" The blood running through your veins was pumping hot, you wanted to pour it out and paint everything around you red, so it matched the fury riding you with every word he threw in your way. Phillip's response didn’t ease you any.

''Is that what you did to earn your spot hm? Fuck your way to the top?'' His tone dripped with scorn as he responded to you, his words carrying an edge sharper than a sword.

''Say that again, Graves. I fucking dare you.'' Spitting the words with teeth bared, and fists clenched as you circled each other, you poked at his chest firmly, the muscles twitching beneath your fingertips.

Your gaze met his with stubborn defiance, nearly ready to just explode and punch him. Maybe that would make you feel better, knocking some sense into his enormous ego.

There was nothing you despised more than another man undermining your career and progress, belittling you as if you were not greater than all of them combined when holding a sniper riffle in your hands.

What made it worse, was that you knew Graves was doing that to get a reaction out of you, to push your buttons without meaning a single word pouring out of his mouth. It was a facade, you knew that. The first thing he ever said to you, was to compliment your skills, which made his intention even more infuriating.

''You could try that with the Shadow Company next, I promise to give you a higher rank if you use that mouth-'' It was as though your hand had a brain of it's own, moving automatically with force to meet with his cheek and the corner of his mouth, leaving the tender skin red to the touch and the corner of his bottom lip reddening with drops of blood.

''Is that all you got?'' He mocked, his voice gravelly as his fingers wrapped around your wrist tightly, preventing you from moving an inch. Your anger dissipated in the favor of fear the very second you saw his expression.

You were volatile and explosive, but that's how you craved it, and even then, your desire to be fucked by him had trumped all your wrath, in fact, your rage had just heightened it. It was pure madness and the was no rational explanation to it nor that you cared to find one.

Glowering, hands itching to hit him once more, you turned on your heel, aiming for the door and intending to get black-out drunk with Simon as you assumed that he was downing his fifth beer by then, when he grabbed you by the back of your neck and hauled you against him.

You struggled, clawing and scratching his arms as they banded around you and held you trapped. He was chuckling in your ear, you could feel how turned on he was, and your inner voice was crooning that you got just what you wanted, but you ignored it. You wanted to fight yet your body had something entirely different in mind while a flow of slick started to soak up your panties as Graves pressed his manhood into you.

''You fucking-'' The thoughts running wild through your mind interrupted your own words, the ebb and flow of your gazes intensifying by the second though it felt like an eternity of his blue eyes piercing through your soul like he could sense every filthy fantasy hiding behind them. You didn't dare to move and in the end, you didn't have to.

You were both breathing heavily, tension wrought to the extreme as you were staring at each other, not really fathoming how you ended up like this. It was pure excitement, trepidation, like you were desperately waiting for something to happen.

This was the culmination of whatever instinctive, subconscious game the two of you had been playing from the very first mission you'd embarked on collaborating with him, a game of push and push between the two of you until the breaking point.

Graves pushed forward, his lips brutally meeting your own. He bit down on them, hard and cruel, loving the cry you whimpered out as he savored you whole. His hand moved from the side of your head to the back of it, tugging the hair there to tilt your head to his.

The agony was a pleasure as you reciprocated his intoxicating kiss, angry and violent as you teared at his lips. Your sharp teeth aggravated the wound on his lip, and you tasted blood on your tongue.

''Fucking brat-'' He instantly pulled back, his fingers grasping your jaw to keep you in place.

You shivered at his words, a new heat blooming over every surface of your body. Your cheeks tingled and you squirmed in his grip, squeezing your thighs together as you calculated your next move carefully.

"You're such a bastard!" You quirked your head as you breathlessly yelped, almost fearlessly before sliding your arms free of his hold and threaded them into his hair before pulling him in to capture another kiss, hotter and even more passionate than the last.

Phillip responded in an instant, letting his tongue slide against yours, hungrily whilst he tangled his free hand in your hair, gripping painfully, deepening the kiss, like it could be the last thing he ever does.

Your body seemed to burst into a flame of mingled rage and lust, and you knew he felt the same from the desperate, almost angry growl he made the sensation overwhelmed you both. 

Sinking your nails into his scalp, you pressed your hips hard against his erection, feeling him gasp into your mouth before lifting his head to take another look at you, his fingertips never leaving your jaw.

Phillip licked his lips unconsciously as he stared down at you, but before you could say anything, he had brought his face once more closer to yours, his eyes half-lidded and full of desire.

''And you're a fucking slut.'' Once more your hand was lifted in the air, intending to slap him for a second time, but he caught it as it swung for his face and took hold of your other before you could attempt it again. With one swift move, he maneuvered your body around and pinned both of your wrists in a firm grip behind your back before your brain could catch up to what was happening.

Head shaking, arms straining as you tried to break out of his hold, huffing and giving in when he only held onto you tighter, walking both of you closer to the wall, pressing your front hard against it. Panting, furious, your heartbeat thundered somewhere in your throat. The Commander's form was a solid taut weight caging you in, imposing, all muscle, a hard line of his desire against your lower back.

''Someone needs to fuck that attitude out of you, Y/N.'' The words made your toes curl and your hips arch, betraying how desperate you looked, splayed out on his command center for his pleasure. The side of his face was so close to yours that you could feel him breathing down on you, his lips at the shell of your ear.

The other hand that wasn’t currently wrapped around your wrists moved to hold your jaw, squeezing tightly to the point of discomfort.

Briskly, he released your arms, spinning around to pounce on the man before you and quickly pressed your back against the wall once more so you can be chest to chest.

''And that's gonna be you, Graves?'' You met his fire with your own, staring unflinchingly into the heated pools of stormy sea. The question was as close to begging as your pride would allow.

''No one else can. No one else can fuck you the way you deserve but me, soldier.'' He stated, face lowering to yours and his tone low and menacing, the promise of retribution sent shivers down your spine.

The grotesque snarl of words should have made you put him in his place, despise of the outcome. Any other day you would have, but instead, your body had different plans.

''Is that a threat, Commander?'' You croaked out, a smirk settling on your face. How you managed to still be coy in a situation where you knew you had no power was insane and the look on his face confirmed it as his fingers around your jaw grew tighter and you winced in pain. 

''Oh, I don't make threats, Sergeant. I make guarantees.'' There was that deep chuckle again. The one that vibrated up his throat until it bubbled out to bless your ears and slither goosebumps down your spine.

Darkly, he challenged your moral compass that was screaming for you to get away from his intoxicating presence. The smirk formed on his lips was wicked, provocative. The prey was finally caught.

''Let's see how far your arrogance can take you then, Commander.'' With a hint of sarcasm, you challenged him back, deliberately imbuing his title with a sensual cadence. His skin was flushing to you calling him by his rank, a blotchy red slowly encroaching from his throat to his cheeks. It was an interesting kind of power to have over someone. 

For a few seconds he just stared you down, eyes adapting the darkest shade of blue. The sensation simmering down in your abdomen was quickening the pace of your heartbeat trying to burst out of your ribcage in a mingle of fear and arousal. It was taking over every single nerve in your body and there was no way of stopping it, not that you desired to.

With a quick use of his brute strength he hoisted you up, having you scrambled to wrap your legs around his waist while his hands moved to your ass to hold you up.

''You won't even comment on the fact that someone could walk in right now and see you in such a mess, Y/N?'' Phillip murmured gravelly, his lips biting the soft skin of your throat intending to break the skin as he was backing you closer to the table behind you, quickly hoisting you to sit on it. He settled between your legs, hands gripping just above your knees.

''God, you must be so fucking desperate for it, huh?'' He was right, of course. The possibility of someone walking in was more than enough to let shame start creeping in your system and yet all it took was one look at his face. The way the moonlight was shining through the window to define his cheekbones even more, experience visible through the wrinkles decorating the corners of his eyes as they stared into your soul.

''You're taking your sweet time with this, Graves. I'm starting to think that you're all bark and no bite.'' You can’t help the smug smile that spread across your lips as you saw the flare of anger flash in his eyes, finding the way he was so quick to be irritated, quite fascinating.

That little defiant glint still sat in your eyes, and he was absolutely determined to remind you who was in charge by the end of the night.

"Oh, I'll show you how I bite.'' He growled, thrusting his clothed erection against your center, a loud whimper escaping your lips to the friction. 

Gasping, you felt his lips leaving a wet trail down the length of your jaw before he settled in the hollow beneath your ear, an erogenous zone he’d discovered, devoting his attentions there. All your body could do in response was cling to him, mewls and sighs falling haphazardly from your lips.

“I dream about your cunt,” He stated, lifting his head up, smoldering eyes locked on yours as your elbows struggled to keep your balance against the wooden surface.

"How it feels.  How it looks.  How it tastes. I dream of fucking ruining you till you can't move to save your life." Every filthy word out of his mouth was a direct attack to your throbbing core as he maneuvered your hips upwards to yank the fabric of your jeans down to your ankles, legs exposed to the cool air of the stone room.  Your gaze followed his, eyes glued hungrily on the obvious wet spots in your panties.

''Fuck- Do it then.'' Clearly, you weren't thinking when your mouth formed the words, "Fucking do it, already-" But it was spoken harshly between the ragged breaths of your desire, and it was all the invitation he needed.

"You're not the one who gets to make commands here," He growled, taking a sinful pride in the drawn out whimper that he had dug out from you.

''Pathetic.'' And so he lifted one of those large hands to your face and pressed his thumb into your mouth, the pad of it resting on your bottom row of teeth as he dragged your jaw down, forcing your mouth wide open.

Trembling with a sudden onslaught of unexpected arousal at having someone else's fingers between your lips, feeling the flutter in your soaked cunt again only this time it was more intense, fiercely with your legs shaking to the sensation.

Your hands moved on their own as Graves' thumbs pressed deeper into your mouth, gliding and pressing at your tongue as you slid them down the length of his body, feeling every defined muscle underneath his blue shirt, going lower and lower, until you were curving one palm around the shape of the Commander's cock confined within his dark shaded jeans.

Impatience took over you, lifting the hem of your shirt, hastily tugging the fabric up and throwing it to the side and before you could touch him again, his hands were at your sides, sliding over the mounds of your breasts and then there was another tug and a louder ripping sound as he teared your bra at the front.

His own pupils, now blown with a heated desire, locked into your glazed expression. Having his fingers toy with your mouth earlier had already caused a small string of saliva to run down your chin and he couldn't help the smirk starting to flicker onto his lips. He had barely started to touch you and you already looked all sorts of fucked up. 

Your outrage couldn't even register before his warm mouth was on your skin, sucking at your nipples, pinching and biting and rubbing the soothing pad of his thumb over each one after any rough treatment. The chill of the night air was an electrifying contrast to the warmth of his mouth and hands as you were openly moaning and writhing to the way he massaged and teased every inch of nakedness before him.

''Me or you?'' You hum innocently to his previous remark as you pressed your palm against him, stroking the long line of heat firmly, and he hissed as his hips bucked forward just as desperately, his hands suddenly coming up to catch both of your wrists, bringing them down to your sides, the grip just tight enough to sting.

Indignation flashed in those midnight blue eyes. There was something off from his normal heated gaze. This look he was giving you was more than just argumentative, more than just fired up. It was absolutely primal. The heat had shifted. While usually he was more reminiscent of a volcano during an eruption, now he seemed to be the moments before, it was a slow heat. Dangerous. 

"I'm not in the mood for games.'' Graves breathed heavily, bending over you to nip at your lips before hearing the sound of his belt touching the ground to finish what you started, freeing himself.

You couldn't tear off your eyes from the obscene sight in front of you as he took himself in one hand while the other came to rest high on your thigh, his thumb brushing against your core, tantalizingly close. He stroked himself once, twice, pressing himself against you and pausing for a moment, just long enough for you to grow restless.

He sighed, the sound more like a growl than anything, steam escaping from his nose.

''I should've done this a long time ago.'' He ripped your legs apart, tugging onto your dripping underwear until it was on the ground, grunting as your slick coated his fingers before he rubbed his cock against your entrance. Every part of your body tightened, a bare spark of pleasure almost exciting you when his cockhead scraped your clit.

You couldn't believe that someone you absolutely despised was giving you some of the best pleasure you'd ever felt. Wanton moans fell from your lips as he jackhammered your cunt. His hand tangled in your hair and yanked your head back.

''You like that hm? You like being treated as a little slut?'' His voice was raspy and full of lust before he pushed forward, drawing all air from your lungs with a loud yelp as he buried himself deep inside you.

''Commander-'' Despite your efforts, the call was loud, urgent. He didn’t start slowly. He was rough, punishing, desperate, taking you with everything he had, as though he was claiming you right where anyone could walk in to see it.

Phillip sped up his pace exponentially, sweat breaking out across his forehead. ''Answer me-'' You became a boneless mess under the power of his ruthless thrusting, slamming into you with such force that you were sure there would be bruises where his hip bones met yours tomorrow.

''Fuck- Yes, damn you!'' You mewled loudly, then covered your mouth with one hand, fearful of passersby. He pulled your hand away, grabbing your chin and forcing you to look up into his eyes as he took you against the shaking table.

''I can tell by the look on your face." He said gruffly. ''You can’t get enough of me can you?'' You placed your forehead on his shoulder, embarrassed to look at him.

''Look at me, Y/N.'' He said in response to this. You slowly looked back at him. ''Good girl.'' He muttered, grabbing your hips and pounding into you.

His hips bucked slowly, riding his twitching length inside your warm folds as he withheld his own noises. ''Beg for it, go on." He gave a firm, sharp smack to your ass, gripping on it tightly whilst using the sound to hide the low groan he released.

He didn't want to hold back any longer, but he refused to let you have your way, especially when you were already so close to come undone under his touch. Your dripping cunt was leaking onto him with every deliberate thrust, letting him glide in and out with ease.

He hunched back over you , pressing his chest down onto you as much as he could without breaking his hold on your arms. "Fucking beg-" He gave a feral groan before sliding out of you without the intention of going back in. A strangled whine escaped you, once again, jerking your hips back against him, trying to provoke him, to get him inside, get him to continue, anything. He refused to relent.

"Whimpering doesn't count, doll." He whispered against your ear. His tone is hard, unyielding. Prick.

His stubbornness was torturous for the both of you. It was a battle to see who could break their composure first and he was about to go fucking berserk. Eventually, you lost it. It wasn't until he had pulled back and dragged his tip to the entrance of your sopping cunt once more that he finally heard you gasping a loud breath as he slowly prodded against the heat.

"Please- Fuck, just- please!'' Your desperate response seemed to please him enough, the sudden build-up of pressure and heat in your body was allowed to be released as his length was quick to plunge into your body, sending the entire table to lurch backwards slightly.

The sounds coming out of your mouth were obscene, not really caring that the two of you were doing such a private thing in a place that anyone could walk into at any moment.

He was not gentle, or tender but you hadn’t expected Phillip fucking Graves to be that. His thrusts came fast and hard as he took his pleasure cause that was what he thrived in. Take and take and take, though you gave gladly, growling out praise in ragged whispers that you couldn't barely grasp.

You grabbed tightly onto his shoulders, screaming out in delight as he fucked you into you in a brutal. You felt your legs tingle and your mind go numb. All you could focus on was the warm feeling in your stomach, the bundle of nerves within you going crazy.

The hot tears continued to pour down your cheeks with each merciless thrust ripping through your body as your teeth pierced the soft skin of your lip, the taste of iron touching your taste buds whilst the wet slaps of his body against yours filled the room, accompanying the pain shooting through your core.

''Crying? Is this too much for you, baby?'' There was sarcastic, mock-disappointment in his tone, the repetitive press into you and the wonderfully satisfying stretch of his cock only deepening the catharsis of the intimacy you were sharing with him.

He grabbed your hips and started pounding you with newfound vigor. You could feel yourself clenching around him. It wouldn't be long before you peaked. You dipped a hand between your legs and started rubbing your clit, willing the moment to come faster. You closed your eyes and sighed, both in pleasure and exasperation.

''Too good- Commander-'' This time, you needed no further prompting and there wasn’t a single hint of brattiness in your tone as you submitted to his request fully, whining for him. Waves of ecstasy pulsed through your body, overwhelming you. Noises you didn't recognize poured out of your lips as your body began to spasm and convulse around him.

''That's my fucking girl.'' His last words came out in a rough growl as he pulled out of you again, before thrusting back in, so hard that you started seeing stars and shriek with pleasure.

The room was filled with your sounds, no longer able to control the moans and whimpers that left you as pounded into you, white dots clouding your vision to your orgasm overwhelming your body hard, shattering as he thrusted and swirled, setting off a wild pulsing in your clit that triggered your insides, and you came all over his cock with a scream followed by a shudder of shaky breath.

Graves kept his ever-the-rougher pace, holding you tighter and tighter, but you felt the slight stutter in his hips that suggested that he was close to his own climax. He started gasping out sentences, heavy statements that surmounted to desperation. ''You're mine, fuck- all mine-''

You could feel yourself growing light-headed in the best way as his embrace restricted your breathing to a further degree, and you gasped sharply as he said your name, the syllables transforming into a vicious growl just as he sank his teeth into your shoulder, deep enough to draw blood and deep enough to make you cry out in pain. 

Cleansing, freeing pain, the kind that purged every transgression you knew you’d enacted against him, and him against you.

He followed shortly after as he began to shake subtly, his movements sporadic and wild as he lost control of his body. You surrendered yourself to his control as he pumped aggressively into you, dictating what he needed from your body as he arrived upon completion whilst tightening the grip on your hair almost painfully as he emptied himself inside you.

The weight of his body collapsing against you felt almost comforting in that moment, gasping and absentmindedly rubbing soothing circles into your scalp where he’d just been tugging your hair by the roots.

''So..'' he started, his voice strained and weak. ''Learned your lesson yet?'' Cocky bastard.

You chuckled quietly, and you could feel him smile against your skin.

''Think I might need a few more lessons, Commander.'' Shamelessly, you admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up as he lifted his head to take another look at you.

''I might have to thank the fucking Scot after all.''

#hereeeee you goooo #phillip graves #phillip graves smut #phillip graves x reader #phillip graves x you #cod smut #cod x reader #cod x you #shadow company #call of duty #call of duty smut #warren kole #task force 141 #tf 141 #141 x reader #captain price smut #ghost smut #könig smut #mw3 #mw2 #soap smut #gaz smut #captain price #simon ghost riley

[ghost-proofbaby]

twenty four hours (modern!eddie munson x fem!reader)

HOUR TWENTY TWO

in which eddie is honest. for real, this time.

→ tropes: enemies to lovers, forced proximity, slow burn

→ warnings: strong language, discussion of/allusions to smut from last chapter, angst, not edited (what's new though), upside down does not exist, minors dni

→ wc: 11.1k+

→ a/n: welp. this... yeah, this is a lot. i truly hope it's worth it. in the waiting, anticipation, and length. if it isn't... my bad. i'm sorry in advance. also, please note, pov change only applies to the memory.

masterlist.

spotify playlist.

◁ previous part, next part▷

22:00 ──────────────ㅇ─ 24:00

His regret turns to pain as you whisper, “What did you just say?”

—

HOUR TWENTY TWO – 1:00 PM

You can’t speak. It’s as if you’re frozen; every muscle, including your tongue, has gone rigid. Every racing thought escapes just beyond your reach. Every single one of the last twenty two hours pound behind your rib cage, and you think you might just faint. Right here, right now. The blood rushes your ears as your body goes ice cold, and even the railing cutting into your palm seems to drift away from you. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He doesn’t even try to deny it. He knows you heard what he said – he can’t take it back. It’s written plainly on his face that if he could, he would swallow back down those disastrous words. He’d grab that destruction four letter word right out of the air, no doubt, and set it aflame. He’d blow away the ash if he could guarantee you would have never heard it.

But he can’t. You heard him. 

I’ve loved you for so long. 

Everything is heavy. The air, your limbs, your godforsaken tongue. 

“Say something,” he suddenly begs. You’ve never seen Eddie look so desperate, eyes wet and voice cracking, “Anything.” 

You want to answer him. Your bones ache with the need – the need to reply, the need to question, the need to do anything but stare at him with what he must surely mistake for horror.

Were you horrified? Were you?

You don’t know. 

It’s why you can’t answer him. 

“I-” he starts up again, breaking down even further right before your eyes. You want to reach out, to coddle him, to tell him it’s fine. But it’s not fine. 

You don’t even get the chance to ruminate on just how not fine it is, or that heat beginning to come to a boil in the pit of your stomach, because the sound of one of the neighbors exiting out onto their own balcony interrupts the infinitely delicate moment. 

“Hey there, Eds-” You don’t know what actually interrupts the gruff man that steps out, who exudes familiarity with Eddie until he takes in the scene before him. 

Eddie, completely fucking naked. You, with only a shirt on. If it weren’t for the moment at hand and the trembling emotions coming to fruition inside of you, you’d probably find it comical. You’d probably find a way to join in the old man’s single guffaw before the two of you meet each other’s gaze and become aware of what exactly is happening.

But it’s not funny. You’re both fucking naked — physically and emotionally — and it’s not funny.

You’re mortified as both of you are scrambling across the balcony, a whirlwind of discarded clothes fisted and nearly tripping over each other to shove back into Eddie’s living room. That embarrassment now trickles down into the start of a boil, everything in you becoming red-hot from how flustered you’ve become and the way you can’t have a second to just process it all. 

When you turn to face Eddie once the sliding door has slammed shut, his cheeks are the brightest pink imaginable. 

“What the fuck,” you whisper out, trying to steady your breathing, trying to take it all in. 

Thump. Thump. Thump.

Your adrenaline is almost making you sick. 

“I’m so fucking sorry,” he catches your whisper amongst your stoic silence and seems to forget the moment that his neighbor had just shattered, voice clear as day as he pulls his curtains shut. You swear you catch the old man still staring, still laughing, and you’re just grateful that you’re not the one completely nude, “I had no idea Mr. Jenkins would come outside, usually none of those fuckers see the light of day before sundow-”

“Your neighbor just saw us naked,” you almost scream. You want to shout, want to throw everything in sight. You crave to flip that coffee table in the center of the room and throw a fit that outdoes even the most petulant of toddlers.

“I know, I-“

“If you say sorry again, I’m walking back out there,” you take a deep breath, but it does nothing to calm you’re shaking body, “And I’m throwing myself off the fucking balcony.”

Maybe you’ll be able to laugh about it in five years. A year, even. Hell, a month or as soon as next week. But you can’t right now; all you want to do is cry.

Some random man just saw you naked. Eddie apparently fucking loves you. 

It might be the sleep deprivation and it might be the fact that it feels like the Universe is laughing in your face at every turn right now. Whatever higher power exists seems to be waiting around every corner for the chance to kick you repeatedly as you stumble to this finish line. And you can’t fucking take it.

So you give in. You give in to that childish need to stomp your feet and scream until you’re blue in your lips.

“I just- Fuck!” Eddie jumps a bit at your exclamation, he’s still naked, “I can’t catch a break! I can’t catch a fucking break. First, I’m showing up here, and I’m stuck with you for twenty four hours. I’m stuck with the man I hate for a whole fucking day,” you’re full on pacing, not caring how ridiculous this scene would appear to anyone. Your hands wave erratically in the space around you, and all Eddie can do is stare, tense with wide eyes, “And I cry in front of you, have full breakdowns in front of you. I listen to you remind me over and over how much you truly despise only to now suddenly find out that, hey! I actually love you! And do I get to process that? No. Because now, some fucking old man that lives next door to you has seen my goddamn vag-“ 

Eddie’s entire demeanor collapses. “Oh, so now I’m back to being the man you hate?” 

You pause your ranting, realizing what you’ve said. 

You’re just angry. You should have thought before you spoke, before you opened your mouth and began to spew your venom, because you can see the way the words have struck Eddie. Not your intention.

“I didn’t mean that.”

“But you said that,” he flatly argues back. 

Your stomach twists.

“I’m just-“ your tongue is back to being heavy as the two of you face one another. Feet apart, worlds apart. “I’m fucking embarrassed, Eddie.” 

“You think I’m not?” he scowls, and you try to tell your racing heart it’s a good sign. But it’s not. You almost preferred his walls dividing the two of you, “Shit fucking happens. We got caught — we fucking dirty talked about getting caught! Big fucking deal! Karmic justice or whatever bullshit people spew. It doesn’t mean I’m going to- It doesn’t change-“ he’s stuttering now, matching that exasperation that had you pacing just moments before. He huffs, a hand reaching up and dragging his bangs upward, harsh at the root as he finally drops his hands in his own defeat, palms slapping his sides, “Everything changes. You said that, not me. You said everything changes, and all it takes is a little bit of fucking embarrassment to go back on your word?” 

He’s still fucking naked. You still can’t think.

“I’m not having this conversation with you naked,” you whisper, almost in disbelief as you shake your head, “I’m- Put your fucking clothes on. Please.” 

“Put my clothes on?” he scoffs, taking a step closer to you, “Put my clothes on? Do you mean the same clothes you just insisted I take off not even ten minutes ago?” 

“We were having sex!” you yell. You’re sure if the old man is no longer on his balcony, he can hear you through the walls. Hell, even if he is still outside, it’s likely he hears the screaming match beginning, “Why- Why are you turning this on me right now? You just said you fucking love me! The least of our issues right now is me telling you to get fucking dressed!” 

“Why are you lashing out at me right now?” Eddie’s voice is louder than yours, something more broken inside of it, “I-“

“Clothes,” you grit out, avoiding his eyes as you start to yank your panties on violently, “Now.” 

You can still feel him. His essence is dripping between your thighs. And you don’t find any sense of enjoyment in it, you don’t savor that quick-fading warmth nor the reminder of the pleasure he’d just brought you. It just reminds you of the words he had said all while not even looking you in the eyes. He couldn’t even face you as he had admitted it. 

One thing at a time, you try to remind yourself. One fucking thing at a time. 

Eddie’s own redressing is another sight that maybe, hopefully, one day you’ll look back on and laugh at. But right now, it can’t spark any amusement in you. Not as all your emotions slam back into you at full force.

You’re embarrassed. You’re confused. You’re angry.

“Happy?” he spits out once his boxers are on, shirt tugged back on so hard over his head that his curls frizz up.

“No,” your eyes are burning, and you feel it again. All those desperate emotions. Like a wild animal inside of you has begun to claw at your insides, making you bleed from the inside out. 

Eddie loves you — and he has, for a long time, apparently.  

Eddie’s neighbor has seen you naked. Saw your full bottom half exposed.

You’ve managed to hurt Eddie’s feelings, again.

Eddie fucking loves you and never thought to mention it. He has for a long time.

All your tempered strings snap, that wild and stricken thing inside of you finally cutting loose.

You don’t know what you’re angry at. You’re angry at him, and yet you’re not. You’re angry at the situation, and yet you’re not. You are bitter from words withheld and you are sour from every moment that paves the road that brought you two to this very moment.

You’re just angry.

“What did you mean?” the question comes out sharply enough to make his own defiant anger fade ever so slightly as he physically flinches, “I- I need to know what the Hell you meant, Eddie.” 

Anger is metallic on your tongue. It seeps from your skin, floods the air, only further dampens everything already so heavy. 

The longer he doesn’t answer you, the more smothering the entirety of the apartment becomes.

“Just tell me. Make it make sense, because right now?” you pause for a deep and shaky breath. Your eyesight is blurry now. Eyes red rimmed with tears that will surely sear your cheeks if they find the nerve to be shed, “Right now, I don’t get it. Over and over and over again, you have reminded me that you hate me. Prior to tonight, it was safe to assume that scorning my existence was one of your favorite pastimes. And I know, I get it — everything has changed. But- But-“ 

How can anything change if you weren’t honest to begin with? 

Did anything change for him? While you were discovering and tending to sore feelings that had been festering for a while but had never seen the light of day, was he only nursing an old wound? 

“But what?” his voice drops low. His entire demeanor has dropped, cowering down before you. His head dips down, his shoulders droop with prepared rejection, you watch the man before you, the man you had just let defile you and the man you had just worshiped on your goddamn knees, turn to dust.

A shaky gasp. Wobbly knees. The blood rushes through your ears again, flushing out any noise except the two of you breathing out of sync. His deep breaths, accepting and welcoming a rejection he was so sure he was receiving. Your shallow breaths, panting and rapid and trying to just get everything to slow the fuck down.

You were right. Once the tears shed, they burn a trail of Hellish fury right down the center of each cheek. “When I say everything has changed between us, what does that mean to you?” 

He’s undressing an old wound, an open slash that seems to be unable to form a scab. You’re pressing on bruises, aching parts of you that had purpled from his neglect long ago. It’s clear as day now — the difference.

You no longer care about the embarrassment of being caught.

“What do you want it to mean?” 

“Don’t do that,” the tears fall faster now. You can’t even begin to dig into this chasm of emotions. Are you angry at him? Are you disappointed by the circumstances? Do you love him? “I want an answer — I need your answer. You promised me your honesty, so give me it. Now.” 

His eyes meet yours, and your entire world seems to fold into itself, “It… doesn’t mean much. It doesn’t change much.” 

Everything has only changed for you. 

“So it means nothing, then? You have me at your disposal, you have me on my fucking knees for you, you tell me you fucking love me, and it all means nothing?” 

You’re twisting his words and you know it. But you can’t help it, can’t stop it. 

“I never said that!” his voice is no longer low and quiet. Sudden worry creases beside his eyes as his mouth goes slack in shock, “I never said it meant nothing.” 

“But it doesn’t mean much, right?” You hate your wet cheeks. You hate the way everything in you is somehow slow-breaking, yet suddenly shattering. An unnerving juxtaposition that is drowning you and sending you reeling over and over again, “It doesn’t change much, right? Because when I said that, Eddie, I meant it – everything fucking changed for me. It wasn’t- It’s not- This isn’t just some throwaway thing to me. Not even a day ago, I thought I had to hate you with everything I had. I thought I had to hate you.”

And I don’t. Not even a little bit. Even right now, when I should. 

“Is that what you think I’m saying?” his voice is low where your voice has risen, his face calm where yours has gone stormy. 

Where you’re on fire, he’s treading still waters. The opposite dilemma that has always existed, and the one you had the nerve to see as poetic. But water meeting flames is never poetic. It never ends well. You should have seen that coming from a mile away.

“What am I supposed to think?” you also quiet your tone to match his. You wonder if the neighbors really had heard a thing. You almost hope they had, that this argument is affecting someone else’s day the way it’s affecting you, “You’re standing here, and you’re telling me it doesn’t mean much, and-“

“It doesn’t change much,” he corrects, and you’re now the one flinching at the crack in his voice. “Not for me. Not when I-“

Not when I’ve loved you for so long.

He can’t even finish his own sentence.

“So what does it change?” you throw your hands out in exasperation, “If it doesn’t change much, what has it changed?” 

There it is again — his silence, your anger. 

“Is it not enough to just know it changes something?” 

If you were stupid, you’d take his tone as pleading. You’d mistake it for begging. But you can’t. For all your fury, you can’t believe that he’s actually stooped so low as to beg for you, especially after what he’s just said. Time and time again, you had repeatedly cracked yourself wide open for him, and he’d managed to rip your heart right out of your chest with such a simply yet damning statement. The most casually cruel bit of honesty he had offered you yet tonight: that nothing changes.

“We’re back to square one,” you choke out in realization, “I- Fuck. This entire time, you weren’t honest with me.” 

He opens his mouth quickly, and for a second you believe he’ll offer an explanation that can soothe over the ache. He’ll come up with an excuse that you can buy, he’ll explain himself in a way that proves you wrong, and the sweet oblivious bliss can return. 

“No,” he says instead after careful consideration, “I wasn’t honest with you.” 

Your tears are running rampant as you only nod slowly, pressing your lips together in defeat, “Awesome. Great,” you reach up, sniffling as you swipe at your nose, still silently quiet but no longer awarding him with any display of your rage, of your hurt, of anything but your acceptance, “No, really, that’s- Cool. Nothing changes. I get it.” 

I’ve loved you for so long. 

It didn’t make sense, but you don’t have it in you to dissect it any further. He had loved you the entire time, and still set out to make you bleed. His grand admission doesn’t change a single fucking thing. 

You don’t say another word as you grab your pair of jeans up into your fist, being sure to move slowly and not in the haste every nerve in your body calls for. You need to leave – you need out of this apartment, and you need to never see Eddie Munson again. It wouldn’t be a far leap from what your friends already deal with. If the friendships take blows of damage from it, so be it-

“Where are you going?” he asks, standing stiller than a statue as he watches you.

You grab your bag, “I’m leaving. The deal’s off. Or- I don’t know. Tell them the bet’s off-”

“The bet is not off-”

“It is,” you turn to him, absolutely frozen in your resolution, “It really, really is. You can even fucking lie to them if you want, I don’t care. Figure out a way to get the money but I don’t want it. I’m done.” 

“So that’s it?” he scoffs in disbelief. When you pull on your jeans, when you sling your bag back over your shoulder and begin to walk to the counter where your phone was left, he realizes that it’s really happening. He realizes you’re truly done, “No questions? I just told you I wasn’t fucking honest, and you’re just going to walk away, not even demand I tell the tru-”

“I’m tired of pulling the truth from you,” you finally move with some of the aggression you felt, hand smacking the counter beside your phone, “If you care so much, if you love me, I shouldn’t have to beg until my knees bleed for you to actually be honest with me,” you take your phone, shoving it into your back pocket before you look at him, “I can’t keep doing this. You were always right. They’re your friends. Congratulations, you got what you always said you wanted. You won’t have to deal with me anymore – consider this a farewell from your life. I’ll make sure no one invites you to my fucking funeral.” 

You assume he grabs you due to your cruel reference to his insult from the very beginning of the night, that he’s going to fight you for that bit of your oddly calm speech. But when his hands wrap around your bicep, and you face him with those silent tears still racing, what comes out of his mouth stuns you. 

“I’ll be honest,” he is pleading, he is begging, “Stay, and I’ll tell you everything. I don’t even fucking care about the bet — we can call off, everyone else can go to Hell. I don’t care about the money, I don’t care about the bet, I just-” he pauses, and you watch the desperation building taller and taller within him, “Stay and let me explain.”

You should tell him no. You should tell him to go to Hell. If you stay and hear him out, it will only end in pain for you. You should leave.

Instead, your bag begins to slip off your shoulder. 

“You have ten minutes,” you whisper as his hand finally releases its grip, “Explain.”

—

SIX MONTHS EARLIER - EDDIE’S POV

If he were smart, Eddie would’ve kept his word.

He’d told them he wasn’t showing up. He’d told them he had work (not a complete lie), and that he wouldn’t make it tonight. He just hadn’t felt like drinking anymore — not since two weeks prior, when he’d gotten black out drunk while hanging out with Nancy, throwing his own personal pity party. 

Pathetic.

It wasn’t just that killer headache that had been haunting Eddie since that night. It was much more than that; it was solid and palpable regret. He’d thrown back too many beers, mixed it with some sort of wine coolers that Nancy offered him once he started to feel the buzz. All it took was just a bit too much alcohol in his system, and suddenly, his rant that Nancy had agreed to indulge him in became so much more. One moment, he was just complaining about you. And the next, he was rambling, letting less harsh words slip between the complaints, more compliments than things he wanted you to change. One wine cooler in, and he was no longer complaining about the way everyone had been fawning over you after a full six months of friendship, but instead the way that your sad eyes and pouting lips following him around a room was cosmically unfair. 

He didn’t remember much of the rest of the night, and he was glad when Nancy had given him a pitiful look over the cups of coffee she offered. 

He’d told her. He knew he’d admitted his stupid, annoying, despicable crush on you to her. Probably whined about the way you and Harrington had clearly had something going on. Definitely spoke too much about how badly he wanted to experience your gentle hand in his calloused one, or to feel your arms wrap around his neck in greeting rather than daggers from your glare every time he entered a room. Hell, he’s sure there was a good thirty minute period amongst the fuzzy memories where he’d sat on the edge of tears as he continued to mumble about how he wasn’t good enough for you.

Nancy Wheeler, his best friend, finally knew. Six fucking months of keeping it under wraps, and Eddie Munson had finally slipped up.

And she clearly hasn’t forgotten as Eddie had prayed she would every single night as she’s the one to answer his knocks on Steve’s door, grinning with the hidden knowledge.

She’d texted him with one last plea for him to show up. Insisted everyone was here. Went so far as to make him a list, and made sure to add your name at the end. It had been phrased like an afterthought on the screen, but he knew her too well. He knew Nancy purposefully mentioned you.

“Munson! Finally! It took you long enough,” she squeals, clearly already halfway to drunk before she quiets down, “And you said you weren’t coming. Wonder what, or who, changed your mind.” 

“Fuck off.” 

It had been a bad day. Work, classes, a phone call with Wayne that had just left Eddie disheartened and terribly homesick. It was selfish, but the thought of seeing you in passing tonight, even if you did seem to dislike him just as he had intended, made it all a bit more bearable. 

Coming home. Seeing you felt like coming home, even if you’d slammed the front door on his face.

He follows Nancy down the hall, a pit growing in the bottom of his stomach, heavy as ever. He shouldn’t have even wanted to see you. The last time he had seen you, you’d been out for blood, blatantly ruining a date he’d managed to bag with Chrissy Cunningham. Chrissy, who never gave him the time of day in high school. Chrissy, who was clearly set on using him as a rebound during yet another break from Jason. Chrissy, who’s only flaw wasn't just the fact that she wasn’t you.

“Eddie, my man!” Argyle greets Eddie the moment he enters the living room. He’s lounging on the couch, Jonathan to his right and a space where Nancy clearly had occupied now empty. 

Eddie nods, still feeling the week weighing him down. No sight of you yet, “Hey, man.” 

He just wanted to see you. One glimpse, preferably before you’ve caught sight of him, and he’d be fine. He’d learned to live with those fleeting moments the last six months, he could keep it up for just a bit longer.

He’d get over you eventually. Even if it killed him.

He had to give his plan time to work. So far, he’d done well, easily offering you a cold shoulder and nothing more after that first night. It wasn’t easy — he doesn’t think anyone would find the task of being cool towards someone as radiant as you easy — but he’d done it. Brick by brick, his wall of invincibility was standing tall and strong between you two. It was safer this way, he had to remind himself. It was better to run off of brief glances of your smiles and laughter never directed at him than to risk anything more. He’d only disappoint you, or you’d magically disappoint him, and it would end in bloodshed. Someone like you, someone so good and kind and easy to gravitate towards, would leave Eddie broken beyond damage. 

You didn’t go for guys like Eddie. Steve had made that clear since day one.

Eddie takes the loveseat as Nancy returns to Jonathan’s side. He tries to make it subtle, the way he twists his head to glance around the room as he removes his jacket, eyes roaming until he finds you. In the kitchen, with Steve and Robin, tense back telling him you’d already noticed his arrival.

So much for seeing you smile.

He tries to keep up with the conversation going on. Argyle and Jonathan are having some sort of debate about aliens, nothing short of heated and passionate, and he’d normally be jumping in without hesitation. But his eyes can’t stop flickering to the kitchen and each time, he can see you downing even more alcohol. He knows you don’t like him, but did you hate him that much?

“You’re awfully quiet,” Nancy leans over to whisper as Jonathan grows in volume about another branch of a conspiracy theory.

“Just tired,” he flatly replies. He’s suddenly itching to get his hands onto some alcohol of his own. Fuck the lessons he should’ve learned a few weeks ago. Fuck his regret in confiding in Nancy.

“Was work rough?”

He hums pathetically in response, eyes glued to the kitchen still. To you.

Nancy’s eyes finally follow his focus, “Have you… I don’t know, ever tried just talking to her?”

He snaps from his daze at that, head turning quickly to Nancy, “I talk to her all the time.” 

“You do not.”

“I do too.”

“Never nicely,” she points out, narrowing her eyes, “You’re like a little boy on the playground, tugging on her pigtails until she figures it ou-“ 

“I don’t want her to figure it out,” he cuts off the assumption, eyes widening in horror at the thought, “Christ, Nance. I thought I made that clear when I ended up shitfaced on your couch.” 

Nancy softens. She can see what’s happening here, see every dampening thought that weighs Eddie down. He might not remember his drunken rambles, but she does. 

“The only thing you made clear is what a spectacular ass you’re making out of yourself,” her words hold no bite, only truth, “Who cares what Steve said that night? He was drunk.” 

“So was I,” Eddie’s eyes are back on you, palms running up his outer thighs until he curls them to fists by his hips, “I was drunk when I talked to you about her. Forget about it.” 

Surprisingly, his stubborn best friend leaves it be. Puts the pointless argument to rest.

Eddie’s feelings can’t rest, though. 

Every night, he tells himself it’ll all go away. The distance will make his heart grow harder, and he’ll eventually be able to wash himself of you one of these days. And every night, all the feelings you’ve sprouted inside of him only teem their way higher, up into his throat and choking him with every last breath before he falls asleep. He can’t forget those first few weeks, the way you seemed to think his coldness was a phase. You’d tried so desperately to seek him out at every function, sparked so many failed conversations with him that left him to burn. Every smile you’d offered him during that time, he’d taken for granted.

Even last week, when you’d interrupted his date, he’d let himself relish in the memory of your attention. Pathetic. 

Had you been jealous? Had you just been spiteful, finally giving him a taste of his own medicine? He couldn’t decide, wouldn’t let himself linger on the reasoning. But he’d remembered your touch, could still feel it scarring his skin wherever your palm of fingertips had rested as you’d scared off Chrissy. He’d even hesitated in the shower that night, pausing for a moment before washing over the shoulder you’d gripped when you’d first approached their table and embarrassed him without care. 

He deserved your spite. 

And he deserves to have to overhear the conversation you’re currently having in the kitchen. You’re going on and on about all the men you’ve had dates with, detailing out every one night stand for Steve and Robin who listen with eager ears.

It makes his stomach churn and twist sharply. Each new man you bring to your roster makes his throat burn with jealousy, plain and simple. And he knows it written all over his face when Nancy leans over and puts a hand on his knee, giving him a concerned look. 

Even the change of topic between Argyle and Jonathan on goddamn Bigfoot can’t overtake the sharp cut of your bragging. 

“I’ve never seen your eyes so green, Eddie.” 

He’s about to snipe back that his eyes are brown, and be unnecessarily cruel from his sour mood, when he realizes what she means.

“I’m not jealous,” he lies through his teeth.

“You very much are.” 

He doesn’t have it in him to bicker back and forth about this again. Not about you, and not with Nancy, “What does it matter? Like I said, me and her? Never gonna happen.”

He had said that. He remembers that, at least, from his drunken confession. He’s sure he reiterated that point several times once he’d made it past the point of coherency. 

“She’s lying,” Nancy casually whispers, pulling her hand back, “She- Us girls talk, you know? Just… she’s lying.” 

“I went on a date with Chrissy. It doesn’t matter.” 

And she has no clue how fucking hung up on her I am. She’ll never know if I have anything to do with it.

“You can keep saying that,” Nancy glances, making sure their other two friends on the couch are still too deep in conversation to listen in, “But we both know that’s not true.” 

Unsurprising. Even if Nancy hadn’t listened to him cry that night about all his miserable yearning, all his unrequited feelings born out of a mess he got himself into, she would have known. Eddie has tried to guard himself when it comes to you, but there’s some times his leashed affection can’t help but seep out. 

Whenever you stumble on sidewalks beside him, his arms and hands are the first to fly out. Whenever the group has gone out to bars altogether, he watches you like a hawk, almost daring the men surrounding you to disrespect you. Whenever your birthday came around, he’d bought that damn gift card to his favorite coffee shop, all because he saw you frequent it twice. Although, to be fair, he’d made Harrington be the messenger there. He wouldn’t have been able to look you in your eye, wouldn’t have been able to put up the bitter persona on a day that should be special to you. He didn’t want to ruin your birthday, so he’d simply sat on the sidelines. Let everyone else go out and celebrate with you. Let everyone else pour enough affection into your cup, even when he wishes his own could have been the final drops to cause it to overfill. 

He had to tread carefully. It’d be too easy — to let himself pour out all these silly feelings and meaningless attraction. One wrong move, and he’d cause his own undoing. His own destruction. It doesn’t matter if it would be by your hand; he’d only have himself to blame at the end of the day.

He’s lost in thought, still itching for a drink, when Nancy is suddenly standing over him. “We’re going out for a smoke, you in?” 

He shakes his head numbly. His mind is far away now, getting lost in all that he’s done wrong, all that he can’t have. 

He’s homesick. He’s watched the way you’ve interacted with Robin and Steve the entire night, and he’s goddamn homesick for a home that he’ll never hold the keys to. 

“You sure, man?” Argyle asks him, wiggling his brows, “I brought the good shit.” 

Numbing his mind with drugs. It’s tempting.

“I’m good,” he reaffirms, still speaking in monotone. He doesn’t have the energy to put up a brave face, too focused on his heavy chest and that miserable pit in his gut still. 

And everyone leaves. He’s sure there’s something poetic for his stormy mind to pick up on there, as he watches his friends gather without him and exit to the outside, but he’s more focused on a miniscule detail.

You’re not with them.

Meaning you’re still in the kitchen.

And God, he really should know better. He should stay planted in his seat and he should sit in his misery until they all return. Only trouble can come from not doing so. But then his body moves to its own accord, fueled by something wickedly cruel and terribly homesick as he grabs one of the bottles of beer off the coffee table. It’s Nancy’s, he’s sure of it. Her lipstick stains the opposite side of the rim he takes a swig from. The beer has long since gone lukewarm, but beggars can’t be choosers. He clears his throat as the bitter lingers on his tongue.

He should know better.

But he doesn’t. He really, really doesn’t as he enters the kitchen. You’re on your phone as he stands in the doorway, and there’s no time to hide what you’d been glancing over.

A dating app.

You spin to face him, and he imagines a world where your eyes land on him and light up. Something akin to that first night, to those first few weeks. Where you look at him with purpose, and he sees relief flood your irises rather than irritation or fear. 

No such luck. He only has himself to blame.

He can’t think of anything else to say, so like an idiot, he gestures vaguely with the bottle of beer towards your phone, “Those apps fucking suck.” 

That jealousy is still gnawing at him. Hateful, painful, reckless. 

You look down at your phone for a second, and click to exit whatever messages you’d been on. And then you look back up at him.

“You’ve used them in the past?” you question him, but he’s still stuck on all the recounts of your escapades he’d overheard tonight. Whether or not they were true didn’t matter. All he sees when he closes his eyes is you, with other men. You, looking at someone else with purpose, relieved eyes awarded to someone more worthy.

He’s lucky he can choke out a short, “Nope,” and make it not sound strangled. 

“Okay,” your attention returns to your phone screen, and Eddie’s returns to his internal battle.

He’s jealous. So goddamn jealous it’s insufferable. It’s not your fault – he chose to push you away, he chose to lash out like a child for his own sanity and his own safety. You’d ruin him; you’ve already ruined him without even trying. If he gave up on the act, on this carefully thought out plan, he’d be beyond leftover rubble of a man. He’d be gone beyond recognition, reduced to ash and smoke. A nameless, forgotten whisper of dust that people would only point to and say, see? Look at that. That’s what becomes of you when you never learn. 

He’s pined enough in his lifetime after girls like you. Girls who were too good for him. He’d done it with Chrissy, and it was still causing him nothing but trouble. 

That burden didn’t hang over Chrissy, or over you. It was all Eddie’s own fault. Neither of you could help that he wasn’t good enough; it wasn’t either of your jobs to fix him or lower your standards for him. You’d even been kind, you’d even nearly fallen into that trap. 

It was for the better. All of it was for the better this way. 

And yet the jealousy remains. The anger still thrives between his ribs, and begs for release. 

“Why are you even still on them?” he should think over his words more carefully as they begin to roll off his tongues. He knows he’s in the wrong before he even continues, “I heard you’ve been having a shit time with the guys on there – quite the opposite of what you’ve been telling Harrington tonight, might I point out.” 

Each word is sharpened so intentionally, glinting from raking against that anger inside of him. You don’t deserve their prick. Really, he should just be comforting you the way the others do – how Robin surely was, how Steve must be. 

But it’s part of the plan. So he tampers down the jealousy and he feeds into the anger, lets it consume him. Because making you hate him is easier than letting you like him. It’s easier to watch the one you can’t have sneer at you like the enemy than let them smile at you like you’re just a friend. 

“I-” you falter in your words, and he decides to straighten his back, takes a deep breath as he slips the mask on effortlessly. He hates how easy it’s become. He hates how quickly he turns everything with you into a fight, “You win some, you lose some. It’s the nature of the app.” 

Sometimes, it’s like a game. And he can pretend that your hatred, your distaste, is also all a facade. Like the both of you are two sides of the same coin. A playful banter rather than an actual argument between two people who can’t even call themselves friends. When he looks at it like that, blinded by his delusion, it makes the ache dull. Sends it away for a few fleeting seconds, convinces himself he really can carry on this way. 

“You haven’t made it sound like you’re losing at all, tonight. I nearly started a drinking game with Nance where we took a swig every time you said you managed to pull another ‘fuck ‘em and leave ‘em’. Quite the boy count you’ve got there, player,” he forces a grin as he leans on the counter, watching his words get under your skin exactly as he had intended. 

You’re cute like this. Clearly drunk, getting flustered. He revels in the way your face physically scrunches in annoyance, the way he can watch you gear up to fight fire with fire. A sick, twisted game of cat and mouse that always can entertain him in the moment and haunt him at night. 

“You’re bluffing. You couldn’t hear me from all the way over there.”

He wonders, for a second, if you’d caught him staring at any point. He wonders if you’d even care.

“We could.”

“No, you couldn’t.”

“Yes, we could.”

“You’re lying.” 

You cross your arms, and he can’t help but watch the way they push your chest up. He can’t help but ponder on how much better it would all feel if this were really playful banter. 

He has to refrain from physically shaking the thought from his mind. 

It’s for the better. 

He narrows his eyes, he grips onto the anger again, that hidden jealousy. He should know better. He should stop it. The words even feel heavy on his tongue, terribly forced. Because his anger isn’t at you. 

“I’m lying? You’re the one who’s been telling Stevie nothing but lies tonight,” and oh, how ironic, for the liar to be calling out someone’s little white lies, “Why do you need to even lie about all that, anyways? It’s not like the truth would be any more pathetic than the act you’re putting up,” the words come out a bit easier when imagines the barrel of the gun pointed at himself, as if he were speaking so casually cruelly into a mirror rather than at you, “Everyone strikes ou-”

He’s clearly struck a nerve. And it aches, but he reminds himself that that’s the point. That’s his goal.

 “I’m pathetic? Just last week, you lied to the group. You were trying to avoid being where I’d be and told them you had to walk your neighbor’s dog.” 

He wasn’t trying to avoid you. He was trying to avoid Nancy after his entire drunken confession fiasco. 

“I did!” he continues to lie. Even with no one to show for, he piles up his lies high. Buries himself beneath them, beneath his pathetic act and worthless reasons. It’s probably for the best that you had assumed that he was avoiding you. 

“Your apartment has a strict no pet policy, Eddie.” 

The act cracks for a moment as he freezes. Why did you know about his apartment’s pet policy? 

“How do you know that?”

It can’t be because you care, or even get curious about him. He’s done everything in his power to cause the exact opposite, to make you be repulsed by him and to run the other way if you can help it. 

“I didn’t, but Nancy did,” He doesn’t even react to the roll of your eyes, unable to get riled up as he usually would at that. It clicks for him; it makes sense, because Nancy had stormed down his door not even a day later, “It’s all I had to hear about the entire night. How she wishes we could get along, how she hates when you lie to her. Thanks for that, by the way.” 

Eddie does feel guilty about that. He doesn’t mean for his own self-destructive behavior to leach out to his friends, or even you. His goal has always been to make it so that when he’s not around, he’s not even an afterthought to you. But selfishly, part of him preens at the idea of you being reminded of him, of you thinking of him when he’s not in the room with you. It’s a conundrum. It’s almost deadlier than his other option. 

“It’s not my fuckin’ fault you go out with my friends,” he grumbles like a damn child, almost pouting in his guilt. There’s another selfish sliver of him that’s also upset at that – upset at the fact everyone else gets to bloom with your friendship and positive attention, but not him. Once again, it’s his own doing. He really shouldn’t be angry at you about it. 

“And it’s not my fault that you don’t.” 

Times like these make him want to give it all up. He has to physically tense his body, tick his jaw and bite his tongue to avoid throwing the entire act to the side. He wants nothing more than to grab you by your shoulders and shake you, scream that sometimes it is your fault. But you don’t know it – you can’t read his mind, see past his intentions. 

You don’t know what Steve had so generously reminded him of that very first night. 

“Whatever. Why are you lying to Steve?” his voice is devoid of all emotion despite the storm brewing inside of him. He can’t even blame it on alcohol – he wishes he could, but his tolerance to beer can handle the single sip he’s taken. He crosses his arms, wrapping them around his body, trying to protect that terrible vulnerability only he’s aware of. When your position mirrors his, he wonders for a moment if you’re also feeling it. 

But you’ve been drinking. This entire conversation, every emotion, can be blamed on that. You’re luckier than Eddie. 

“I’m not lying.”

“You are. With Steve, and with me at this very moment.” 

He lets a reaction at his own irony slip through for a brief second, eyebrows furrowing as the voice inside him screams hypocrite! Hypocrite! Hypocrite!

He wishes he could pretend to be oblivious to why he can’t stop bringing Steve up, but he knows better. He can bury the jealousy alive, but it still bites all the same. 

“How the fuck do you even know how my dating life is going? We aren’t exactly friends. Did Robin tell you? Did Steve tell you?” 

We aren’t exactly friends. 

He should relish that confirmation that his plan is working, that you truly don’t see him as a friend, but it just fucking stings. He swallows hard physically, as if it can help him swallow down the truth any better, but it does nothing for him. The truth only continues to choke him up. His tongue has momentarily frozen over in his mouth as he tries to push past the painful reminder and wrap up this conversation. He feels it, that sharp burn of an unattended wound, and he realizes at the wrong moment that whether or not he keeps you at an arm's length, bloodshed will always occur. 

At least this way, he tells himself it’s protecting himself. This way, the knife isn’t pointed at his own heart. 

“You’re right. We aren’t friends,” the words are poison on his tongue. They taste of dirt and rust, like a grave that screams to be dug up but he has no shovel. He’d tossed it once he’d sealed the tomb, like a fool, “But Rob and Nance are, and Nance and me are. See where I’m going with that one?” 

At least he wasn’t lying to you for a brief moment. Nance had told him. He’d throw you that bone, at least. 

“Well-” and with your own pause, you seemingly return the favor. You’re handing him yet another opportunity on a silver platter; exposing an insecurity that he should let live and let die, but he won’t for the sake of the wall he has bled to put up between you two, “You say that as if Nancy and I aren’t friends.” 

“Are you?” 

He’ll regret that taunt for the rest of his days. Two simple words, and he’s damned himself. The conversation that follows, about Instagram and followers and social standards of friendship, doesn’t even matter to him. It’s just a routine. Constant knives, clashing swords of words, lie after lie piling up with the bile in his throat as he shoots for kills. He hands over reason after reason for you to resent him, and makes sure that each punch lands. Ignores the ache, the one billowing in his knuckles as if each subtle insult he tosses your way doesn’t bruise his innards all the same way. By the end of the back and forth, it should be enough, for both of you. He’s accomplished the same thing he always sets out to do with every conversation: he pisses you off, putting another inch in that stretch between you two. 

But then you turn your back on him. And he deserves it. God, he deserves it. But he’s still full of bad ideas tonight, the awfulness of the last few days still suffocating him, and so he makes another decision to regret. He walks up behind you.

You open your phone, and he sees it. You’re on the dating app again, and the screen flashes with the face of your latest contender. 

He knows that face. He schools his face to remain even, but he fucking knows that face. 

The bartender at his local haunt. The only other person besides Nancy who had ever seen Eddie so miserable over you. He had been drinking alone that night, and the whiskey had him pouring out his guts to the poor guy. Slurred words of the girl who had slipped between his fingers, of the one who got away, of you. 

And that same bartender had been the one to sympathize with Eddie, claiming he understood. That he knew that feeling – dating around and doing anything in your power to get the girl you truly want off your mind. He said he had one of his own. He’d told Eddie that his pain-riddled speeches helped him make up his mind, that he was going to go after the girl he really wanted, that Eddie should do the same. 

Was this bartender your ex-boyfriend? Had the two of them been discussing the exact same girl?

Bad decisions. Over, and over, and over. It all comes to a rise within Eddie – not just the anger, but the jealousy and the hurt and the goddamn envy of the man on the screen. He hates the bartender, he hates himself, he hates the world at this point.

He tells himself he should add you to that list. But he doesn’t. He can’t. 

And it all spirals out of control before he can prove that to himself. Words grow sharper, small kindles of tension between the two of you finally explode to full blown flames, and he’s suddenly saying things he doesn’t mean. Things he’ll linger on for the days and weeks, the months to come. 

“You’re so dense, you never realize that you’re not wanted, Not by those assholes, not here-” 

He’s mid-lie, one finger on the trigger of the gun he assumed was aimed at his own chest, when it finally happens. A snap within both of you. Timed perfectly with the glass that shatters against the wall beside his head. 

Eddie learns two things that night. 

One, half of his plan worked. He’s succeeded. You hated Eddie Munson’s guts, and instead of him being content in his success, he’s sick to his stomach. It doesn’t bandage the wound inside of him, doesn’t pack away cotton nor cauterize the bleeding. It only worsens it. Widens it, impossibly so. He swears shards of that broken glass fly right into his unsuspecting chest, even if Nancy doesn’t find a trace on him when she comes back inside to see the aftermath. You hate him, he’s proven his point. He has proven himself to be the worst possible version of himself, the most unlovable man he had always seen in the mirror now residing in him staunchly enough that every single one of his friends sees it. 

He’d done it. He’d diminished any chance he had ever held of being friends with you. And he thought that, without a doubt, that meant he’d diminished any disastrous chance of letting you close enough to risk the chance of any more of his feelings getting involved. He thought it would have meant that he’d done it – he’d protected himself, and in some sick twisted way you, from inevitable bloodshed. 

But blood had still been shed. Even if his friends were only cleaning up broken glass in the kitchen, he could still see the stain of red across the floor and walls from you and him. He was bleeding out for you, but he had just driven the knife in deep enough that you would never return the feeling. There was no world where you would be bleeding out for him, only because of him. 

The second revelation comes a bit later in the night.

Closer to midnight, hours after the fight, when Eddie finds himself alone as per usual. He stumbles to his usual bar, thankful for the late hours, fully prepared to get so fucking wasted he can’t remember his own name. He’d wish to not remember your face, especially when he had spewed such hateful intent your way, but he knows there’s not a single brand or amount of whiskey out there that can cleanse him of that. Your name is just another ghost to add to the lineup. You’ll haunt him until his dying day. And he deserves that. 

But then, when he walks into the bar, he sees the bartender. 

The same man who had stood you up just the night before. The same man Eddie simply couldn’t understand. He was clearly on a date, a nice girl sat at the table across from him, laughing at every word he said. Eddie remembers their conversation, although a bit hazy. 

“I think you’re onto something, man. Some girls are just… irreplaceable. I’ve got a girl like that of my own – prettiest eyes you’ll ever see, a smile that could cure cancer – and… you know what? I think we should both go for it. Give up on the girls who could never compare.” 

He wants to vomit. The bastard had even poured a round of shots on the house, had fucking cheered with Eddie before throwing back the alcohol with him in the promise of moving onto the girls who matter. 

He had said cheers to discarding you. Brushing off you. To you being one of the girls who could never compare. 

Eddie’s vision goes red, and he knows half of the blame falls on himself. He’d been the reason this asshole stood you up. He had already been the reason for your pain tonight before he’d even said a word to you. His self hatred has never burned so deeply, so viciously.

But you can’t punch yourself. And so instead, Eddie doesn’t hold back when he approaches the table and lands his right knuckles right on the bastard’s cheek bone. Even goes in for a second punch. He would have gotten in a third punch, but the bartender hits back. Not as hard as Eddie, fists fueled by self-defense rather than ravaging guilt and crippling self-hatred, but enough to get deter him until security could gather both men up.

It’s in the alleyway that he has his second revelation. At the hands of the man who had just hurt you. It was like looking in a mirror. Eddie nearly does finally vomit as he leans against the brickwall, security a few paces away, ready to file a police report. But then, the bastard still manages to somehow be better than Eddie, throwing up a hand to stop them from dialing for the cops. 

���Don’t,” is all he says, leveling a stare when Eddie’s eyes fill with tears.

“Really?” Eddie cocks an eyebrow, pushing his luck. He needs someone to punish him. He needs to be thrown in a cell for the night, to be treated as the degenerate he truly was, “I just rearranged your fucking face and-”

“Why’d you punch me?” the bartender spits out some blood, nose crooked, “You- You’re a fucking regular, dude. How’d I piss in your cheerios?” 

Eddie’s feeling vulnerable. All his actual feelings boiling and burning in the back of his throat, begging to be released. He doesn’t need a drop of whiskey this time to be honest. 

“The girl,” Eddie rasps, tears threatening to spill as he pictures your face again, “I told you about the girl. The one no one else compared to.” 

The bartender’s eyes widen, “Jesus, fuc- are you telling me that we were talking about the same fucking girl? I- Vanessa told me she wasn’t seeing anyone else, I can’t believe she fucking lie-”

“Not her,” Fuck Vanessa, Eddie thinks bitterly, almost laughing. He has no right to say his next words, but he does, and they cause a pain worse than even the most nightmarish hangovers he’s ever experienced, “My girl is the one you stood up for her.”

You weren’t his girl. You never would be his girl. 

The bartender only looks more confused, and Eddie’s anger flares a bit more at the thought of him talking to more girls beyond you. The man before him had had everything Eddie wanted: he had had you. And just like Eddie, he had fucked it all up. It was easy to misdirect his anger in the moment. 

He says your name out loud, a searing iron in his throat that makes it come out garbled and strangled. Some recognition falls upon the man’s face. 

“Oh… her.” 

Eddie doesn’t hold back, “Her? That’s all you have to fucking say? You stood her up, you fucking- Jesus Christ, go burn in Hell,” He’s being irrational. He doesn’t care, “Call the cops on me. Tell them to let me rot in a fucking cell. I deserve it – but so do you. That girl… that… her. She’s one in a fucking million, she’s a thousand times better than whatever girl you have waiting on you inside, and you couldn’t see that. You’re a goddamn dick.” 

No one makes the move for the call. The bartender just shakes his head again, being far too patient. Eddie opens his mouth, ready to scream now as he demands they punish him. Make him pay for his crimes. Not just the punches, but everything he had broken tonight.

He broke you tonight. He deserves to burn in Hell far more than the man before him. 

“I knew you were in love with her, but-”

Eddie cuts him off, “I’m not in love with her.”

He hates the look he receives. It’s the same pity that Nancy now looks at him with. That same hidden judgment, like everyone else knows something that he doesn’t. 

“You may hate to hear it,” the bartender is choosing his words very carefully as he swipes in a contrasting carelessness at the blood pouring out of one of his nostrils, “But you don’t throw punches like that for a girl you’re not in love with. So I suggest you mind your business, and if she is as valuable as you keep going on about, you tell her rather than punching the dude he just serves you fucking alcohol.” 

He doesn’t even have to close his eyes to see you anymore. The image of you is clear as day, even with his eyes open. You, broken and vulnerable and full of hatred for him. Just as he had intended. 

Success tastes metallic and bitter. Eddie finally empties what little he had in his stomach onto that concrete alleyway.

He doesn’t leave the wall. Not when the bartender goes back inside with one of the bar’s bouncers, not when the remaining bouncer eyes him and nervously steps forward, not when they return with a paper declaring him banned from the bar. 

He can’t move. All he sees is you. He hasn’t drank more than that one pitiful swig of beer at Steve’s, but he feels like his world has gone incoherent all the same. 

He fucked up. 

He crinkles that piece of paper harshly once he’s properly left alone in the alleyway, angry enough that it tears a bit from his force. It doesn’t phase him; he didn’t intend on returning anyways. He carries it with him the entire way home, regardless, rolls it between his palms until it’s gone soft with the sweat of his hands. 

It’s for the better. He fucked up, but it’s for the better. 

He tosses the wadded ball into the trash when he gets home. Goes through the numb motions of taking off his shoes, tossing his jacket on the counter rather than the hook he’d put up for it, and leaves his bike’s keys beside it. Eventually, he makes his way to the bathroom, brushing his teeth but never once glancing up in the mirror. As a matter of fact, he avoided every single reflective surface in his apartment that night. 

He still sees your face, broken and teary, as he turns off his bedroom light and lays on his mattress that night. It doesn’t matter how many times he repeats it to himself, reminds himself over and over, the mantra of it being for the better doesn’t work. It can’t break through. All because of a pathetic revelation.

Eddie learns that night that he is, in fact, in love with you. And it doesn’t matter, because you hate his fucking guts, just as he had intended. 

—

You don’t make a single move once Eddie breathlessly finishes his explanation. Not even to breathe. 

He’s been in love with you since that night at Steve’s. 

You’d known that he had punched the bartender that night. You’d known that he had been banned from his usual bar that night. But you hadn’t known the entire truth. You couldn’t have ever imagined it, ever pieced it together, until now. 

And you don’t know if that speaks more on you and how dense you’ve been this entire time, or on Eddie and how dishonest he’s been this entire time. 

“God, I’ve loved you for so long, and I’ll never be fucking worthy.”

It suddenly makes sense. At a sickening and sudden pace, it clicks into place. 

“Eddie, I-” 

“Don’t,” he stops you, looking you directly in your eyes. You nearly shrink under his attention. Your fury is gone; you just feel empty, “You… You don’t need to say it back. You don’t need to say anything – the bet’s off. I’m not being honest to stop you from leaving,” he admits, every single wall crumbling at both of your feet, “I’m just being honest because you deserve it. I should have told you that night. I should- I actually should have never done any of this. Any of it.” 

You remember the girl you once were. In a bar, surrounded by strangers and new friends, with tunnel vision for the boy in front of you. You remember that feeling of coming home, the way you ached for him to let you in and had been fooled for one night that it was possible. 

A year later, and he was letting you in, too late. 

“Why?” your voice cracks. You should just pick up your bag and go, but you can’t. Not until you stick the final stitches into the wound, seal up this hurt once and for all. For you and for Eddie. “Why would you… Why would you do that? Why would you set out to make me hate you?” 

“Because I didn’t deserve you,” he says it like a simple fact, like it doesn’t shatter you apart, “Because I knew if I didn’t create the rift and kept letting you in, I’d fall in love with you. At first, I thought I needed you to hate me to prevent it. Figured you’d be stronger than me about it. If I made you hate me, I was… Honestly, I was saving myself. I’d tell myself it was about saving you, but it wasn’t. I was being fucking selfish.”

You nod silently, swallowing down tears. Tears for what could have been, tears for what you still want so badly that it aches. 

“All because of Steve making…” you trail off, head trying to wrap around all the honesty he had just presented you with, “Making some off-handed, drunk comment.” 

It was Eddie’s turn to silently nod. To swallow hard and flutter his eyes shut so you couldn’t see the hurt lit within them. 

“You said you hated me,” you’re thinking out loud more than you’re properly speaking to him at this point, voice broken and soft, hands fighting the urge to reach out for him. Even after it all. Every reminder of what he had done for you, and now having the pitiful reason behind it all, still couldn’t break what had formed here tonight. Everything has still changed for you, “When I said everything changes, I meant the hate – I didn’t want to hate you anymore.” 

“I know,” he bites his lip, as if he’s trying to hold back any careless words. Words that might hurt you, but not for the same reasons as they used to, “That’s why… not much has changed. I never hated you. God knows I wanted to. I told myself I had to hate you, because if I didn’t hate you, I’d love you. And I couldn’t do that again – I couldn’t handle falling in love with someone I couldn’t have. I knew I wouldn’t survive loving you when you’d never love me back. It wouldn’t be fair… to either of us.” 

“But you did it anyway,” you almost laugh at the awfulness of it all, terribly irony stacking up between you, “You fell in love with me, you said it yourself. You… you loved me.”

“Love,” he corrects, eyes now wide open, “I love you. It’s not- It’s not some feeling in the past tense. You should still hate me, because I still love you.” 

He’s right, you finally realize. You should hate him for all of this. 

“And all of this counted on the first part of your plan working,” he has to take a step closer, whether it be subconscious or due to how low your voice has dropped. The physical distance erased aches. Splinters each of your bones and all of your emotions, “Which you never even asked me if it worked, even now. You just assumed.” 

He takes a deep, brave breath before he quietly asks you, “Did it work?”

You both already know the answer now, “No.”

But it changes nothing. You know that, he knows that. It’s just as he said – the point of saying it out loud no longer has anything to do with repairing what’s been damaged just tonight. You’re both being honest only because you both deserve it. You both deserve to finally close this tomb. 

You don’t know if you’ll ever be able to close it, though. Not truly. Not properly. 

“I can’t stay,” you whisper, “I still… I still need to leave.” 

Especially now. 

“I know you do,” he responds. He’s gentle, understanding. 

It doesn’t stop the tear you see break from his lower lashes. He doesn’t draw any attention to it, doesn’t so much as move to clear it from his cheek. As if he’s scared if he does, you’ll notice it if you hadn’t already.

“The bet’s still off,” you continue, unable to meet his gaze as you pick up your bag once more. 

“I know it is.” 

He doesn’t try to stop you this time. And part of you, this time, wishes he would have as you slip back out the front door of apartment 2C and let the door shut with a quiet click behind you.

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#my writing #twenty four hours #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfic #my bad #surprise drop because... i am actually sleeping so peacefully right now haha #also might be more mindful of answering asks with spoilers for this round <3 just to give people a fighting chance to read first!!! #eddie pov truthers please rise because my GOD have i been excited to do this

[dilfartist]

Missed - short

Pairing; Yandere Las Plagas Leon Kennedy x reader

Synopsis; after healing Ashely from the Las Plagas, Leon is unable to heal himself. Now fully infected with the Las Plagas, Leon returns home to you.

Reader description; Female/GN

Word count; 1k

TW;dark themes, Leon being crazy is so hot.

!Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!

“Fuck, please start! Please start! Please start!” you cried ramming your car keys into the ignition. Regardless of the number of times you twist the keys, the car refuses to start. “No! Why, god!?” you choke, tears welling up and stinging your eyes.

You study the parking lot through the side-view mirror. Aside from parked vehicles, it was empty. Still, you felt the coil tightening in your stomach. Leon was bound to come any moment. And thanks to the abundance of entrances, he was free to enter wherever.

Instinctively, you press the lock button on the keys. All doors click reassuringly. Now you sit in your car, granting yourself the opportunity to settle your nerves.

What the hell had happened to Leon? One week ago you break up because of his constant absence, then today he’s pounding on your apartment building nearly taking the door off its hinges.

Leon pounding on the door wasn't too out of the ordinary, considering Leon, if given too much to drink, could be an obnoxious drunk. Nevertheless, his knocking was extremely harsh. Like he meant to knock down the door. Despite the clear red flag, you risked unlocking the door but completely halted when your cell phone aggressively vibrated in your pocket. Just as you answered the call, Leon’s banging ceased.

“Whatever you do, do not open that door!” a voice demanded urgently.

Without question, you compled. You simply backed away from the door. Again the voice commanded you sternly, “Grab a weapon. Use it if Leon manages to break in. And if he does, rush out of the door, do you understand?” you responded with an agreeing noise.

Leon begins pounding on the door once again. His muffled voice was audible, transferring through the door's thick wood to your ears. “I know you fucking hear me, (Name)! Answer this fucking door!”

You gape at the door. Leon never acted this way. Not even during arguments. Leon hated the idea of raising his voice at you, and even when he slipped, Leon corrected himself instantly. Something was terribly wrong. You reached over and clasped the largest knife poking outside the knife block.

Leon started hurling himself against the door, each hit included the sound of the door breaking. Before Leon could see you, you jumped into the closet adjacent to the front door. Not much after, Leon busted the door down; the door plunging to the ground with a deafening thud.

Placing your hand on your mouth, you watched through the thin closet slots as Leon stomped his way inside. Something undoubtedly was wrong with Leon. His peach-colored skin littered up to the bottom with visible dark veins. It looked unhealthy. Like Leon had been struck by lighting only a second ago.

He proceeded to your bedroom and you took the advantage. You bustled out of the closet, rushing out the door. Without looking back, you ran over to the elevator. Needing a distraction you pressed the down button on the elevator, hoping Leon would think you took the elevator and use the staircase beside it, whilst you utilized the exit on the other side of the hall.

The idea worked. The door slamming and footfalls descending the stairs was enough evidence.

So here you were in your car, chewing on your nails, fearing your ex-boyfriend’s arrival. You scanned the parking lot again, it stayed the same as the previous time. Just then your phone rang, startling you. Shaikly, you attain your phone from your pocket. The voice on the last call answers, “Miss. (Last name)?”

“Who is this? What the hell happened to Leon!?”

“I understand your stress, but please remember to keep calm.” the person advised calmly. “For starters, Leon works for us. Last week we sent him on a trip to Spain, unfortunately for Leon, he has obtained a virus. Fortunately for us, the woman he was sent to retrieve is safe and sound.”

“So?! I don’t care about the girl, whoever she is, I care about Leon!” you bark, voice quivering with anger.

“Well, when Leon returned to headquarters, he blacked out. It was impressive seeing how far he made it, evaluating the progress of the virus. We kept him safe, testing on him; and endeavoring to cure him. Sadly we haven't still. And that brings us to your situation. Leon, earlier this afternoon, escaped from containment. All week Leon spoke of his girlfriend, so we assumed he made his way to your apartment. We were right.”

“Now, I must warn you, Leon is dangerous. He’s not in his right mind at the moment. We’ll be able to further examine him, and help him if you lead him back to us. Are you able to do that?”

You shake your head, “No. The damn car won't cut on.”

“Alright, then we’ll send someone to your coordinates. Stay inside the car.” the person insists.

“Yeah. Okay, I will.”

The call ends and you are left gazing at the screen, slowly processing what was explained. You knew Leon worked in some secret agency, but this was on another level of strange.

“(Name)!” your name is roared malevolently. You shriek at the sight of Leon peering inside the car, hands pressed against the glass, red eyes meeting yours. “(Name), baby, open this door,” Leon spoke in his usual soft tone that only you experience. The tone that makes you malleable, and weak in the knees. “I’ve missed you. Been thinking about you all week. Those assholes kept us apart, but I'm here now.” Leon conversed with such sweetness it was beginning to make you physically sick.

Leon's visage also was painted with dark veins, his skin paler than before: Reminding you of how sick Leon really was. You wanted to help him. Wanted to hold him. But you wouldn't.

You shook your head, avoiding eye contact. “No, Lee,” you professed. “Y-you aren't okay, I won't let you in.”

Leon merely smiled. A sicking smile that sent chills dancing up your spine.

“Oh, but I am baby. Now open the door, I’ve missed you.”

Part 2

#leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #yandere leon kennedy #Yandere Leon #yandere resident evil #resident evil 4 #resident evil x reader #leon s kennedy #dead dove fic #yandere themes #yandere #las plagas! leon

[rae-gar-targaryen]

#ash garver vibes #ash no exit vibes #just how you like it vibes #ash x reader #dropping today #Spotify

[quizzicalwriter]

can u plsss do smut dallas x reader where he ties a vibrator to you? thank uuuu

Torment

Pairing: Dallas Winston x Fem!Reader

Summary: Dallas had never been one for toys, but your cute pleading may have swayed him - maybe.

Warnings: SMUT. MDNI. Porn with very little plot. Kissing, touching, fingering, rough sex, titty attention, toys. A whole lotta stuff.

A/N: Thank you for the request!

Word Count: 3.7k

Curiosity had always been your weak point, pure stupid curiosity. It’d wound you and Dallas up in your fair share of odd and semi-expensive situations; one he’d never let you live down being the impromptu visit to a restaurant in the middle of town, the very place where you’d spit your food into your napkin and pouted at the shitty quality until Dallas relented and drove you to a nearby hole-in-the-wall diner that served way better food for half the price.

Sometimes, to your benefit, your curiosity led you to funny or pleasurable paths - which was the main contender for why Dallas could never turn you down, that and your pout worked on him better than an offer of a cigarette. That said pout was exactly how you wound up in the passenger side of Buck’s T-Bird, humming absentmindedly to whatever song buzzed across the static-ridden radio during your thirty-minute drive into the center of town.

“I suppose I’m buying this thing?” Dallas asked around his cigarette, eyes half-squinted from the blaring overhead sun. You smiled over at him, bright smile and all as you nodded. He shook his head through a laugh, removing his cigarette from between his lips to rid the end of its built-up ash. “It better be worth the money.”

You knew it would be, how could it not? You and Dallas were fairly adventurous in bed, so when you prompted the idea of including a ‘toy’ into your time beneath the sheets he was naturally curious himself - until he heard the price. You’d ended up begging, peppering his still-tired face with small kisses until he relented and pushed your face away with a grunted-out laugh.

That’s how you got him to drive you nearly forty minutes into the town over, the only town that had a sex toy store. It was still new, something that wasn’t relatively talked about, but your friends had been raving about the thing and you couldn’t help but want one of your own. You’d promised Dallas that you two could try it out as soon as you’d gotten back to his apartment, something that noticeably excited him, his excitement made ever so apparent by the subtle bulge against the denim of his jeans.

If there was one thing you were eternally grateful for when it came to Dallas, it was his nonchalant nature. You’d seen the man trip and bust his ass right outside of a grocery store, only to get up and pick up his cigarette and continue walking off as if nothing had happened - that and he’d done his fair share of voicing his foul-mouthed opinions loud enough for the damn neighbor to hear. In all honesty, you didn’t think he could care what others thought of him. You admired him for it.

It certainly came in handy when he pulled into the semi-vacant parking lot, right outside the store that overtly advertised what it sold indoors. Sex toys; vibrators, dildos, lube - everything you could need and more, and by God did everyone and their grandmother watch as you two exited the car. Dallas smiled over his shoulder, flicking his now-dead cigarette to the asphalt below before snubbing it out with his heel. His arm hooked around your waist, escorting you inside and away from prying eyes.

“Hello!” Sounded an employee from behind the counter, a very kind-looking older woman, someone you wouldn’t have expected to work in such a store. “Do you two need any help?”

Dallas waved her off with a small smile, leading you through the aisles as his eyes drifted over the various items. You could feel yourself flush, despite there being nobody else in the store besides you three, you couldn’t help but feel bashful over it - especially when Dallas loudly laughed as you both passed an aisle that had nothing but pornographic movies. Very, very lewdly labeled pornographic movies.

“Should we get one?” He joked, smiling over at you as he picked up a box, waving it like he’d just scored something worth hundreds of dollars. You scoffed out a laugh, pushing his hand down with a giggled, “Put that away, Dal.”

It didn’t take long to find the aisle that seemed to be dedicated to vibrators, they ranged from all sizes, from pinkie length to nearly a foot. You knew exactly which one you’d come for, the infamous body wand. It was a hefty thing, the box as long as your forearm. Dallas looked over to you, raising his eyebrows as you held the box to your chest.

“You want that one?” He asked, hand reaching behind himself to grab his wallet. You smiled, nodding as you rocked forward onto your toes. He sighed out a laugh, free hand moving to the small of your back as he guided you toward the front of the store.

You’d hardly placed the box down on the front counter before the woman gasped, a bright smile on her face as she rang up your purchase with a hushed, “I’ve sold so many of those! Nearly twenty this week alone!”

The words made you laugh, the two of you exchanging pleasantries until you and Dallas left the store, merchandise hidden in a discreet brown paper bag. As you situated yourself in the passenger side seat, you peeked into the bag, reading over the claims that’d been etched into the side of the box. The reviews alone had you giddy to try it out, thighs clenching together in excitement as Dallas started the car, peeling out of the parking lot less than a second later.

“How’s that thing work anyhow?” Dallas asked, eyebrows furrowed together as he looked between you and the road. You shrugged, freeing the box from the paper bag before twisting the package around, face flushing slightly at the look of the thing.

“Says you plug it in,” you mumbled, eyes squinting as you read the finer print near the edge of the box. “Plug in and enjoy, that’s all it says.”

Dallas choked back a snort at the instructions, eyebrows lifting in both amusement and intrigue as he pulled down his street. It was only four in the afternoon, so Buck’s bar would surely have quite a few people in attendance. It’d never stopped you two before and Buck sure as hell never complained, not that he had any right to, you and Dallas had heard your fair share of Buck’s lady friends he kept well into three in the morning.

The air felt charged around you as Dallas pulled into the half-filled parking lot, his eyes flickering over to you with every chance he could grab. You couldn’t ignore the budding arousal and excitement settling heavy in your stomach, each step toward the bar leaving your legs feeling weak beneath you. Your heart thudded in your chest, hard enough to be felt in your throat as Dallas’s hand pressed against the small of your back, gently guiding you through the bar and toward the back steps.

Neither of you stopped to greet anyone, but luckily for you both everyone was either inebriated or caught up in a game of pool or poker. By the time you reached Dallas’s room, your underwear were slick to your cunt, soaked in your arousal. You kicked your shoes off, tossing the paper bag onto his bed as Dallas closed the door behind you.

“Nervous?” He asked, noticing your jittery behavior as he moved behind you. You huffed, trying to hide your feelings but failing miserably. Dallas only hummed, brushing your hair back from your neck, leaning down a fraction to press delicate kisses along the curve of your throat.

You brought your hand up and behind you, threading your fingers through his thick hair as he kissed and nipped at your neck, his hands working on unbuttoning your jeans. You let your head fall back against his shoulder, giving him full access to your throat as he pushed your jeans down your thighs. You did the rest, kicking the denim to the floor along with your soaked underwear.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered, pulling away only to pull your shirt up and over your head, leaving you completely nude while he remained dressed.

You obeyed, hurrying over to his bed as fast as your feet would carry you. The bag sat toward the end of the bed, soon lifted and opened by Dallas who tossed the bag over his shoulder, attention focused solely on the semi-heavy box in his hands. You crossed your legs, shifting your hips in anticipation as he took out the body wand.

You’d been right in the car, there were no other needed instructions besides plugging it in. Dallas gave you a brief smile, moving beside the bed to plug the body wand into the wall outlet. The cord connecting the wand to the outlet was relatively long, long enough for you to use it comfortably on the bed - or for Dallas to use it on you.

He situated himself behind you, helping you to lean back against his chest. His warmth radiated through his clothing, calming you immensely as you settled back against him. The coolness of the body wand startled you as Dallas rested it against your thigh. He didn’t seem intent on using it on you just then.

His hands brushed over your body, fingertips trailing over your stomach, down your hips, and onto your thighs. Each touch was followed by a shiver on your part, your arousal thick enough to leave you shaking, desperate for some form of attention to your eager cunt.

Sensing your desperation, his right hand dipped between your thighs, touch featherlight against your soaked folds. Your hips bucked, a mumbled plea for more leaving you as he grazed his index finger over your clit.

Your plea was not met with mercy, instead, Dallas pulled his hand back, his touch drifting upward to your breasts. His lips met the nape of your neck, kisses slow and methodical as he kneaded your breasts, brushing his thumbs over your hardened nipples.

“You can wait,” he whispered.

You weren’t sure you could, your cunt clenched around nothing and dripped cum onto the bedspread beneath you. A heavy pang of need throbbed between your thighs, clit aching with each leisurely touch of his hands, focusing everywhere except where you needed him most.

Just when you thought you’d sob from the torment, his right hand moved back between your thighs, finding your cunt drenched in your juices. You could feel him smile against the nape of your neck, a breathy laugh leaving him as he circled your clit.

The soft pads of his fingers against your clit moved in slow, deliberate circles. His lips were hot, leaving lingering kisses along your throat as your head lulled back against his shoulder, giving yourself over to the ecstasy he gave freely. His free hand continued gently kneading the soft flesh of your breast in tandem with his fingers. His thumb and forefinger gently tweaked your nipple, the other hand busying itself swirling around your clit. Your hips bucked up into his touch, desperate for some form of release as his fingers glistened with your arousal. Instead of relief, he gave you cruelty, removing his fingers from your aching cunt with a click of his tongue against his teeth.

“So desperate,” He cooed, tone ever so condescending. The cruel words went straight to your cunt, leaving you clenching around nothing as he watched on in lust-riddled amazement. Your back arched from his chest, unable to do anything further with the position he’d put you in. Laughter rumbled in his chest, the noise making you pout as your eyes batted open to look at him. He feigned a pout, bringing his hand up to cup your chin with a soft, “Poor thing.”

Only when you felt tears lining your vision did he relent, resuming the same featherlight touches against your throbbing clit. It felt perfect, almost enough to bring you to the brink of an orgasm – but nowhere near enough to push you over the edge. A desperate whine fell from your lips, eyes squeezing shut as you begged yourself not to cry over being fingered – it felt stupid, but in your orgasm-deprived mind you were certain you’d go insane if he didn’t let you cum.

With a kiss against your shoulder, he curled his middle and ring finger into you, fingers meeting no resistance as he pushed them up against a spot within you that had your knees bending, thighs clenching together in a silent plea for him to never remove his fingers from your cunt. You could feel him smile against your skin, his thumb brushing against your clit as he slowly pumped his fingers into you, the lewd sound of your cum coating his fingers echoing throughout the room. He could feel you holding back, the way your eyebrows would scrunch together, how your breath caught in your throat, all for a soft, nearly inaudible whine to fall past your parted lips.

“Let them hear you,” he urged, tone nearly pleading. “Let them hear how good I make you feel.”

Dallas wasn’t one to beg, yet the way he spoke conveyed the desperation he poorly concealed underneath his reserved facade. You could only nod as his tempo increased, fingers slicking in and out of your cunt at a pace that left you delirious. Your head rolled back against his shoulder, eyes fluttering shut as moans fell from you, pleas for him to go faster, harder – neither you were sure you wanted, but you needed him and everything he could give you.

He obliged.

“That’s it,” he whispered against the shell of your ear, placing a chaste kiss on your temple as he pumped his fingers into you. “Can feel you clenching around my fingers, doll.”

His crude words pulled another moan from you, one that caught in your throat as your hips rocked with the thrust of his fingers. His other arm hooked around your waist, keeping you pulled back against him as his hand worked between your legs, expertly bringing you to the cusp of your orgasm. Your thighs began to shake, calves tensing as he pushed his fingers deeper into you, the heel of his palm bumping rhythmically into your clit. Your arm moved up to encircle the back of his neck as you buried your face into his throat, moans and whimpers of his name tumbling past your lips like a broken prayer. Before you could register the feeling, you were coming undone around his fingers, cunt pulsing around the thick digits as your voice broke off into a silent scream. You could feel your cum coating his fingers, gushing out of you and onto the bedsheets below. He whispered words of praise, still fucking his fingers into you throughout the throes of your orgasm, not bothering to slow down an inch until your thighs were twitching against the soaked bedsheets.

Your cunt twitched with oversensitivity as he removed his fingers, bringing the wet digits up to your lips. You took them without objection, breath labored as you sucked them clean. He groaned at the feeling, your tongue laving the underside of his fingers as you stared up at him, expression the picture of fucked out.

He slowly lowered his hand from your face, your lips glistening with saliva and cum. He couldn’t help but lean in, capturing you in a wet kiss as his hips rocked against your ass. The subtle friction pulled a grunt from him, his brows furrowing as his hold around your middle tightened. He could taste you on his tongue as he pulled away.

“Lean forward,” he instructed, words barely audible over his heaving breaths. You obeyed, looking over your shoulder toward him as you bent over a nearby pillow, your hips comfortably resting against the fabric. He moved from behind you, sorting through the bedsheets, cursing under his breath until he found what he’d been looking for. You watched; curiosity peaked as he moved to sit down beside you. He smiled at you, leaning down to press a kiss to your forehead with a hushed, “Can’t let my money go to waste.”

His hand guided your hip up, nestling the head of the vibrator against your cunt, just above your clit. With a kiss on your shoulder, he helped you settle back down against the pillow, pushing the vibrator flush with your skin. The metallic clang of his belt buckle hitting the floor and the subtle sound of his zipper being undone followed. You arched your back, face pushed to the soft bedding beneath you. He hummed at the sight, right hand grasping your hip tight as the other trailed the back of his fingers along your folds, the touch causing your hips to quiver.

His arm looped around your middle, hand fumbling with the base of the wand until it buzzed to life, the sudden vibration pulling a yelp from you as your hips jerked away from the sensation. You’d thought you were no longer sensitive from your previous orgasm, but the vibrator pulled that confidence right out from under you. Dallas only stifled a laugh, his hand moving to the small of your back where he pressed down, forcing you flush with the vibrator. A broken moan fell from your lips as your hands grasped at the tangled bedsheets, knuckles white as the large silicone head of the vibrator shuddered against your clit.

“You’re alright,” Dallas taunted, right hand still steady on your hip as he pumped himself with his left, thumb swiping over his tip. You could hardly focus on the lascivious moans coming from Dallas due to the intense vibration of the body wand. He pushed your legs farther apart with his knee, shifting himself behind you until his thighs were flush with the plush of your ass. He swiped his tip along your folds, gathering your slick cum against himself before stroking it down his shaft.

Your cunt twitched, clenching around nothing in anticipation as he slowly pushed himself into you, easing in each inch. The moan that came from you once he’d bottomed out was near pornographic, with pure relief and ecstasy flooding your veins before he’d even had the chance to rock his hips. You pushed back into him, the movement earning you a groan as he grabbed at your hips, stopping you from moving any further.

“Wait,” he ordered, tone strained. You’d half a mind to disregard his words, but the steady pulse of his cock inside of you rendered you obedient, mindlessly whining into the warm bedsheets as you waited for him to move. Only when your breathing settled did he pull out, slowly pushing himself back in after – repeating those movements until your hips were rutting into the vibrator beneath you.

You could feel your cunt stretching around his cock, desperately trying to accommodate his addictive size as he pushed into you, each thrust being paired with a choked-back grunt from Dallas. His fingers dug into your skin as he quickened his pace, the sound of skin meeting skin echoing throughout his bedroom. His hold on your hips grew tighter with each thrust, effectively keeping you cemented to the bed and the vibrator beneath you.

The tip of his cock pushed against your cervix, leaving you clenching around him whenever he’d pull out, your cum leaving a veneer against his shaft, steadily dripping down his body and onto the bedsheets below. The vibration of the body wand thrummed against your clit, your hands tightening their grasp on the bedsheets as you felt your orgasm building in your lower stomach. Each thrust of his hips left you breathless, the position causing him to hit impossibly deep inside of you.

He could feel you clenching around him, the sound of your moans picking up an octave, your hips involuntarily rutting back to meet his thrusts. His hands moved from your hips to the small of your back, pushing you flush with the pillow and vibrator beneath you as he slammed into you. The pace was brutal, small whines forced from your lungs as he stretched you again and again – hitting that same spot within you that sprung pleasure-fueled tears to your eyes. You were left sobbing into the bedding, hands moving behind you to grasp aimlessly at his body as you came undone around his cock.

“Fuck yes,” he grunted, not slowing his pace in the slightest as you gushed around his cock, soaking the bedsheets along with the pillow beneath you. Your eyes squeezed shut as he fucked you through your orgasm, the pleasure soon giving way to mind-numbing oversensitivity. A low laugh reverberated within his chest at your fucked-out state, his hand moved to cup your jaw as he rutted into you with a groaned, “You take me so good, so fucking good.”

All you could manage was a broken-off moan of his name at the words, cunt squeezing around him. He buried his face into your shoulder, choking back moans of his own as he pumped you full of his cum. You let your head fall forward into the bedding, heavy pants muffled by the sheets, hips lifting yourself away from the persistent vibration of the body wand below you. As if reading your mind, his arm hooked around your stomach, shutting off the body wand a second later before pushing it to the floor. He rested back down against you, pressing gentle kisses to your shoulders and along the nape of your neck, only pulling out when his cock had finally stopped twitching inside of your cunt.

“Did so good,” he whispered, hand smoothing up the curve of your back as he rested back on his knees. “So good, doll.”

You hummed, the best response you could manage in your current state. He chuckled, swatting your ass before moving from the bed. You didn’t bother watching where he went, knowing him well enough to know he’d disappeared into the bathroom. Only a moment had passed before you felt the bed dip beside you, followed by the coolness of a wet washcloth against you as he cleaned you up. Once he’d cleaned himself, he hooked an arm around your middle, pulling your back flush to his chest, his free hand moving up to wipe your damp hair from your face.

“You alright?” He asked, words so quiet you’d hardly heard him. You tilted your head back, meeting his gaze with a tired smile and nod. He returned your smile, pressing a kiss to your temple as you resituated yourself against him.

“Definitely worth it.”

A/N: I had to research 70s sex toys for this. Because if Dallas didn’t have the whole gunshot ordeal he would’ve lived to see the 70s and the rise of sexual liberation - and by golly gee were there a LOT of sex toys. Anyways, I hope you guys liked this one! I don’t write rough smut too often so I hope I did this one good. I appreciate all the love and support you guys show my work, more than you know! You can find all my work over on my AO3 under the user, “Unscriptural.” Thank you again!

#my work #the outsiders #dallas winston #the outsiders fanfic #the outsiders fanfiction #the outsiders writing #request #dallas winston drabble #dallas winston imagine #dallas winston x y/n #dallas winston writing #dallas winston x reader smut #dallas winston x reader #dallas winston smut #the outsiders dallas #dally winston x reader #dally winston smut #the outsiders dally #dally winston #ask

[sturnsdoll]

Matt and Fwb!reader

at a party she decides to flirt with someone else, i mean she is still single after all

Matt doesn’t like that much

BELONG TO ME ੈ♡˳ - M.S

pairing: (fwb!) matt x reader

summary: when you catch your fuck buddy bestfriend flirting with another girl at a party, you decide you need to distract yourself with a different guy. matt doesn't like that at all. you belong to him.

warnings: rough dom!matt, jealousy/possesivness, fingering, thigh riding, p in v, hair pulling, degrading, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, this one's wild so lmk if i missed anything!

word count: 3,137

authors note: i know nobody asked for me to write about thigh riding but i truly dgaf cause it's sexy ash. hope y'all enjoy <3

"pink" - reader speaking "blue" - matt speaking

suggested song while reading:

「 ✦house of balloons/glass table girls by the weeknd ▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 0:10 ᯤ✦ 」

the walls in the house were vibrating with music. voices rose over one another. alcohol and perfume filled your nostrils and you were wandering around like a headless chicken to find your bestfriend matt, who had brought you here.

there was a good 10 minutes of being caught up in conversation, being pushed and shoved, as well as just pure confusion of the crowds of people that halted you from your search. but alas, through the crowd of people you recognize matt's black hoodie and grey tank. a smile returns to your face. you adjust your dress down from where it had risen as well as fix your hair a little. mouth open, you're about to call for your friend when you realize he wasn't just standing there conversating. there was a girl stood beside him. with the way his arm cradled her while she leaned on him there was practically no space between the two.

you wanted to keep walking up to him. wanted to not care. but something inside you physically ached at her being on the guy you were so close with. so intimate with. you had been so naked with. your bestfriend. without thinking you turned around, storming off in the other direction.

it took a few minutes, but not many for you to find a guy. handsome, but not matt really your type. it wasn't hard to convince him to come out to the backyard for a little space to have fun. once outside, the strangers hand grazed your thigh as the two of your lips mushed together. he tasted like beer and cigarettes. quite honestly? he kissed like a complete fucking idiot.. nothing like matt

but, he was decent looking. tall with a typically attractive (but douchey) face and damn well good enough to distract yourself from caring about someone else's endeavors. unbeknownst to you though, this would lead to just about anything but 'distracting yourself' from your bestfriend.

when you had seen matt with that girl, it was only as you were walking away that he saw you. matt had not as kindly as possible told the girl he had to go before chasing after you. he had been excited because he hadn't caught sight of you in about an hour or two- or at least he was excited till he watched you drag some random guy outside.

even though it was none of his buisiness, matt followed curiously until you, as well as the stranger, both exited the party. he stayed insde near the window to see what was happening. for two minutes he disgustedly obeserved a heated makeout that made his stomach turn. matt was finding it impossible to decide wether he had a right to go out there and stop it or not.

he wasn't your boyfriend after all. only the friend you fuck... right?

wrong. because the second that guy's hand brushed too close to the hem of your dress, matt was throwing open the back door. he came uncomfortably close to you and the stranger. you caught sight of his enraged features right away. you assumed something had happened and were immedietly concerned "matt hey what's wr-"

through gritted teeth, he interupted "we're leaving now. please." matt's tone was stern but he was trying not to upset you by being irrationally angry. you backed away from the stranger enough to take in matt's whole body language."what? why? the party isn't eve- matt!" matt had firmly but not too aggresively pulled you infront of him by your arm. away from the other guy. the other guy was completely dumbfounded and frozen, no clue what was happening. matt looked down at you with urgency "are you staying here with him.." he eyed the stranger with threat "or are you going with me to your house?" you could tell that whatever was wrong, he was angry enough that he was trying not to have some kind of outburst. although... you'd beg to differ that he already was.

you finally respond "you?" your tone was telling him 'obviously?'. before you can question him further, matt nods as he grabs your hand to drag you through the backgate. the whole way to the car you were asking matt why he was so eager to leave but it just fell on deaf ears.

the entire drive to your apartment his hand aggresively kneaded at your thigh so now you were assuming he left because he was horny. he made it clear that he'd tell you what was happening when you'd get home.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

the second the two of you entered your home you started asking questions while he slid his sweater and shoes off. "if you were horny we could've found a room there matt?" you said, still confused. he didn't respond to you as he undid his shoe laces. now you were concerned. "matt? say something c'mon"

once his shoes were off he stood to face you. he didn't wanna be toxic by yelling at or harassing you about some guy. but he couldn't just let it go either.

"who was that guy?" his voice comes out colder than he means it to. you shrug mindlessly "just some guy" you respond. before he can ask anything else you mutter "not that it's your buisiness". he looks down at you with a million emotions coursing through him, jealousy overcoming most of the others. "excuse me?" he seemed offended and it pissed you off since he started all this. "well since you were busy with some girl i figured i'd keep myself busy too." you stated.

he laughs sarcastically "i had an arm around her because she was drunk and i was physically pointing her in the right direction of where she was going. and yeah, i may have flirted a little" he steps closer to the point where you can feel his breath fan your face "you however- had that guys hand halfway up your fucking dress." even matt's surprised at his own tone. but you both know he'd never intentionally upset or hurt you though. "i was stupid for being jealous but at least i didn't drag you outta there. it's not like i'm your girlfriend matt. i'm not yours" you even hurt yourself with your last few choice of words.

"were you gonna let him touch you?" matt's voice shows that he's desperate for an answer. you roll your eyes. "not your buisiness." the second the words leave your lips he steps forward again, making you back up. he grabs your arm to keep you in place so now your noses brush and lips ghost one anothers. "were you?" he repeats. you can't believe how jealous he seems but something about it makes your thighs clench. "okay, jesus matt, yes. i was." you reply quickly. there's a moment where you can see his mind pool with thoughts. but before any of them come out, his lips smash onto yours. his hand going to the back of your head, in your hair. your lips meld into one anothers, but there's nothing gentle about it. his grip on your hair tightens as he backs you into a nearby dresser.

once he's done with kissing your lips practically raw, he begins to leave marks down your neck. "i don't care if i'm your friend-" he stops to suck at your neck "your bestfriend.." another harsh suck to your collarbone "your fuck buddy.." his free hand pulls your dress up a little "or the biggest pain in your ass ever." he cups your pussy through your underwear as he pulls your head back by your hair, elicting a whine from your throat "you're mine" his hand slithers into your panties and two fingers enter you as he seethes out "you belong to me." into your ear

"matt!" you cry out. he gives you no time to prepare before his long fingers are fucking you faster than you can even think. once he's studied your face and confirmed to himself that you're enjoying this side of him, he uses the leverage of his grip in your hair to pull your face to his, sloppily making out as his fingers abuse your cunt.

a moment later he pulls back again "think he would've known how you like to be touched?" matt questions as he thumb presses down on your clit just the way you like. shaking your head no, you grip his shoulders for support. he answers his own question "no. but i do. so are you his?" his question makes you clench around his fingers because you know where this is going. "n- ngh- no." "well than?"

"liste- uhh mm- i'm sorry i-" he cuts you off "no. i don't care. jus wanna know who you belong to" his thumb circles faster on your clit now, adding more pressure as well. "yo- mm!" he purposefully ruined your chance at speaking by curling his fingers into that one spot. the spongey spot inside you that makes your head spin and stomach turn.

his gives a look of faux sympathy "sorry sweetheart i didn't get that" his tone is convincingly sweet but you know better. giving him a glare, you repeat yourself "you, you asshole". a grin plasters on his face at the satisfaction. you said you belong to him. he also loved the way you mouthed off to him even if he wouldn't admit it "that's how you're gonna talk to me when im knuckles deep in you?" proving his point, he manages to push his fingers just a little deeper. this time when they curl you gasp and moan, gripping his shoulders. you lay your forehead on his chest, embarassed by how your cunt squeezes his fingers at every dirty word and little touch from him. he knows what he's doing. "matt c'mon" you beg.. even though you don't really want him to stop.

"what? you were shamelessly gonna let a stranger finger fuck you but now you're all shy, hm?" he releases your hair so he can pull the top of your dress down, exposing your tits. you only respond to him with a whine as his lips attach to your left nipple. you start to feel the knot in your stomach forming.

his teeth nip and suck making you arch your back, your chest pressing further toward him. your mouth opens, head tilted back. you're getting right to the edge. you're about to tell your bestfriend you need to cum when he slowly pulls his fingers out, hand emerging from under your dress.

you sigh and eye him annoyidly "matt." you complain, clenching around nothing. he releases your tit with a pop. "considering you were gonna let someone else touch you, you clearly don't appreciate how good i am at making you finish" as he talks he's guiding you over to your couch "so i think you should do it yourself so you can learn to appreciate how good i am to you" there's a cocky little smile on his face that he's trying to supress. before you get a chance to respond to him, he sits down and pulls you gently onto his thigh.

your dress bunches around the very tops of your thighs now, underwear still on you, completely drenched from him fingering you. staring at him, you don't process what he's telling you to do until his long fingers come up to grab your jaw, gently forcing eyecontact "ride my thigh." he instructs right before pushing his leg up, the light friction is just enough to effect you.

with how sensitive you already were, the lightest touches have you gone. your hips instinctively began rocking over the rough material of his jeans. your hands find his shoulders to steady yourself once again. his eyes are glued to your frustratedely needy expression. the way your lips part and your lashes flutter as you close your eyes makes his dick throb to be inside you.

although your clits getting some friction, the lack of having his fingers or more disirably his dick inside you is driving you insane. there's already a wet patch on his jeans from you. not surprising considering he has you completely soaked. your hips are already beginning to slow, finding it impossible to chase your orgasm just by fucking yourself on his thigh.

matt notices this. "tired, baby? you need help?" he teases. to add to it his thigh flexes again making you whine his name. it feels good but you need more. "fuck matt, please" you sigh out desperately. his long fingers take hold of your hips and begin rocking you at a steady pace, pushing you down onto his thigh. "this feel better?" he asks. you nod. there's a cockiness to his voice that makes you close your thighs tightly around his.

he looks down to see where you've already soaked his jeans as well as to see how your pussy's desperately grinding on him for whatever pleasure you can get. he looks back up now to see how your eyes are closed, focus in your features. pretty whines and moans spill one after the other. the more needy you get, the higher in pitch your needy little noises get. matt loves when he gets you like this. nothing in your head besides hoping he'll let you cum.

he himself is beginning to find it impossible to ignore the buldge that's straining the fabric of his jeans. for the second time tonight you start to feel your stomach twisting with the familiar ache of an upcoming orgasm. your thighs squeeze around his thigh even harder now.

"can i?" you whine. matt already knows what you want so his grip on your hips tightens bruisingly, forcing you to a sudden stop. your eyes open wide and you stare at him pleadingly, so worked up and out of breath that you can't bring yourself to protest or complain when he lifts you off him and sets you on the couch so that you're on your knee's, hands on the arm rest. he's standing now, removing his clothes. once he's finished, he gets comfortable behind you good thing you have a wide enough couch for the both of you and helps you with getting your panties off. he lines himself up, his tip teasing your hole.

your hips push back toward him needily but he grips them again to force them back into place. there's a long moment of nothing. you open your mouth to ask him what the hell's taking so long but it's replaced by a nearly pornographic noise at the feeling of his length filling you completely with 0 warning.

he pulls out with only the tip in before filling you completely again. "matt!" you cry out in pleasure (and a little pain from the stretch.) loving the way his name sounds from you, he wants to hear it again. he pulls out then fucks back into you. just like he wanted, his name falls from your lips.

his pace is on the slower side but every thrust is deep, hitting all the right spots. your nails are threatning to pierce the fabric of your couch. his name mixed with moans of pleasure come over and over again. matt's not a huge egotistical asshole or anything but he'd be lying if he didn't say that the control he has over you right now wasn't getting him off. he loves that you only become such a mess for him.

he loves that you belong to him

his hips are twitching and his thrusts are faster, needier. his hand finds your hair and he pulls you up so your back is against his chest. he knows he's close but he needs to make sure his girl his bestfriend comes first, so his other hand leaves your hip to come to your clit, rubbing fast circles that make you see stars.

he feels you clenching, hears your choked moans but decides to ask anyway. he wants to hear you say it. "you wanna cum for me baby?" he asks right in your ear, his voice goes straight to your cunt making you impossibly more turned on. you nod your head but that's not enough for him.

"use your words" "n-need to cum f- mph fuck!- for you" at the sound of your begging he nearly finishes but there's one more thing he needs to hear before he's done with you. "i'll let you cum if you- mmph- tell me who you belong to, y-yeah?" you can hear it in his voice, he's desperate too. but he wants needs the satisfaction of hearing that you're his. you groan with frustration "you, matt." your spit out at him. you don't care for his antics right now, just wanting to cum.

he uses his grip on your hair to tug your head to the side so he can make eyecontact with you. he can hear the ingenuity in your voice and he needs you to say it like you mean it. "say it again sweetheart." he demands, landing a light slap to your clit that elicts a whine from you. you can't take much more of this. "matt i need to cum pl-" "say. it. again." between each word he slams inside of you. you feel your legs begin to shake and mind going fuzzy.

"i'm yours, m-matt. i'm all yours"

"good girl. now go ahead and cum for me"

the words aren't even fully out of his lips when you coat his dick with your cum. your legs shake, mind a complete haze as he's fucking you through it. it doesn't take long before your body is basically limp. his grip on your hair and arm around you keeping you up.

he thrusts into you harshly just one more time before stilling, then you feel his seed fill and spill out of you. he stays there for a few seconds before pulling out, releasing his hold on you and gently guiding you to lay on the couch. he drops down behind you to hold you close, pulling a blanket from the top of the couch over the two of you.

for the next ten minutes your "bestfriend" lays behind you, his mouth peppering kisses along your shoulder silently, soothingly. you're the first to speak. "matt?" your voice comes quiet. "mhm?". "i'm assuming that meant you don't want me seeing other people?"

he pulls you closer against him "yea- well.. not unless you want us to be seeing other people??" there's a hint of concern in his voice. "absaloutely not." you say with no hesitation. you hear him let out a sigh of relief. there's a pause before you speak again "and matt?"

no response. "matt??" nothing.

you turn your head to see him fast asleep like a little baby.

idiot.

tags: @mattsrod @sturncakez

#matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo triplets fanfic #sturnsdoll

[wzrd-wheezes]

Riled up. remus lupin x reader

I got it, Remus and reader fighting because she’s complaining about something and he’s in a mood because the full moon is soon and he’s all riled up about it, end it with either smut or fluff I don’t mind either ;)

AN - no this is the smuttiest thing I've ever written so I hope this is okay and not too filthy jsjjfjs. If there's one thing about me.. if ur gonna give me the option to end it with fluff or smut - im gonna end it with smut every time.

1.5k

Warnings: kinda toxic!remus like hes just a bit of a prick in this, n this is not a good example of a good relationship. a whole load of sex, daddy kink, choking, smoking and the like. as always minors dni and wrap it before you tap it. Enjoy!

“Remus, you know I hate it when you smoke like that.” Y/N said, looking over to her boyfriend that was chain smoking cigarettes on the balcony of their apartment. 

“And I hate it when you nag at me about it, love.” he replied, tapping ash into the ashtray next to him, “yet, you continue to do it.” 

“I’m just worried about you. There’s no need to jump down my throat about it.” she scowled, turning around and taking a large sip from her coffee. 

“God forbid I want to do something that calms me down when the full moon is soon,” he stubbed his cigarette out harshly, as if to make a point, the glass ashtray rattling against the table with the sheer force of it.  

“Oh, grow up, Remus,” Y/N spat, the grip on her mug tightening as she spoke, “You act like you’re still a fucking teenager sometimes.” She walked over to the kitchen and slammed her mug down on the counter. She hated it when he got like this. The days leading up to the full moon made Remus impossible. He was constantly tired and grumpy. He didn’t have a great temper at the best of times but the full moon only heightened it. It also didn’t help that Remus not sleeping meant that Y/N hadn’t been sleeping, resulting in them both being extremely irritable.  

She heard his footsteps approaching the kitchen and swiftly made an exit, shutting herself in their bedroom.  

“You can’t avoid me all day, darling.” he called out. Even though she couldn’t see him, she just knew that he had that cocky grin on his face. The one that made her feel weak at the knees. The same grin that Remus knew could get him out of anything. They could be arguing and he would flash her that smile and it was as if she couldn’t be mad at him anymore. It infuriated her that he knew exactly how to get her. Y/N sighed, knowing that he was right and opened the door. 

Remus was stood on the other side, leaning against the doorframe, cigarette hanging from his mouth.  

“See? I knew it wouldn’t take you long to come around,” he grinned.  

“It’s like you’re purposefully trying to wind me up today. I fucking hate it when you smoke inside,” she sneered, “and you can wipe that fucking grin off your face as well.”  

“Aw, don’t be like that, baby.” he smirked, leaning back against the wall and taking a drag of his cigarette. “You’re getting all upset over nothin-.”  

He didn’t even have chance to finish his sentence before Y/N had stormed off. She made it all of five steps before Remus swiftly grabbed her wrist and pulled her back. 

“Don’t fucking walk away from me when I’m talking to you.” 

“Talking?” she let out a laugh, “You’re such a condescending prick sometimes, you know that?”  

“And you’re a whiny, little, brat sometimes.” he barked, his voice significantly louder now. 

“Fuck you.” 

As fast as lightning Remus had flipped them round so that Y/N’s back was pressed against the wall. Remus had one had above her head, bracing himself on the wall as he towered over her. The grin that was plastered on his face had disappeared. His jaw was clenched and his lips were pressed into a line.  

“You need to watch your fucking mouth before I have to do something about it,” he said roughly, his fingers tangling in her hair.  

“Oh, really?” she retorted, “what are you gonna do about it?” 

 Just as quickly as he did before, he flipped them back around and roughly shoved her down on to her knees. Y/N let out a gasp as her knees hit the floor and she looked up at her boyfriend. 

“What? Cat got your tongue?” Remus goaded, the infamous smirk back on his face. 

“Not at all,” Y/N smirked back at him, reaching up to unzip his jeans. Remus smiled down at her as he leaned against the wall. Y/N took his dick out and eagerly put it in her mouth. 

“Atta girl,” Remus grumbled, taking a cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it, “Look so pretty down there with my cock in your mouth.”  

He took a drag of his cigarette while she sucked him off, lazily grabbing a handful of her hair to keep her in place. Letting out a groan, he leaned his head back against the wall, cigarette hanging from his lips as her began fucking her mouth. 

“That’s it, baby. Can’t whine with my cock in your mouth, can you?” he chuckled darkly, “Jus’ what little brats like you need, isn’t it?” 

Y/N looked up at him, tears streaming from her eyes. Remus pulled himself out of her mouth. Her lips were swollen and drool was running down her chin. 

“Fuck, you’re so fucking gorgeous,” Remus whined, “Gonna be a good girl and let me fuck that pretty pussy of yours, yeah?” 

“Remus, pleas-” 

“S’not my name, baby.” 

“Please, daddy.” she whined 

He smiled down at her smugly and scooped her up in his arms, carrying her into the bedroom. He threw her roughly on the bed, and she scrambled to remove her clothes, throwing them in a heap on the floor. Remus followed suit, his belt dropping to the floor with a clatter as he threw his jeans down. Y/N was spread out on the bed, looking at him needily as he stood over her. Remus dropped to his knees at the edge of the bed, grabbing her ankles and dragging her down the bed roughly so that her core was level with his face.  

“Dripping already, baby?” he mused, “Haven’t even touched you yet. If I knew you’d get this turned on just from sucking my cock, I’d have you do it more often.” 

“Can you stop being a cocky little shit and just fuck me already,” Y/N moaned. 

Remus looked at her, grin instantly disappearing from his face.  

“You just don’t learn, do you?” he snapped, “always have to be such a brat.” 

Pulling her underwear to the side, he plunged two fingers inside of her, drawing a sharp gasp from her lips. If there was one thing about Remus, it was that he knew exactly what to do to get his girlfriend going. He knew exactly how to make her tick and he prided himself on the fact that he could bring her to the edge in a matter of minutes. He licked at her clit as he pumped his fingers inside of her, smirking against her as he listened to her moans. 

“Please, daddy, I’m close, I’m-” 

He withdrew his fingers abruptly, wiping them on her thigh. Y/N let out a loud gasp. 

“You fucking dick.” she groaned. 

“Watch your fucking mouth. I won’t tell you again.”  

“I just need yo-”  

He cut her off, quickly removing her panties and shoving them in her mouth. Y/N whined in protest, her eyes widening in shock. 

“I won’t tell you again. You better keep those in that pretty mouth until I tell you to take them out, understand?” she nodded in response.  

“Good girl.” 

Remus positioned himself between her legs, looking down at her as he lined himself up. With one fluid motion he was inside her, letting out a deep groan as he felt her clench around him.  

“Feel so fucking good baby. Take my cock so well.”  

He wasted no time and began fucking into her roughly. His hips snapping against her at a quickening pace. Y/N’s moaned were like a drug to him and he couldn’t get enough. He thought that she sounded so pretty when she was whimpering underneath him, the panties in her mouth feebly trying to stifle her moans. She reached up to wrap her arms around him, legs trembling as she chased her high. He grabbed her wrists and pinned them above her head with one hand. He smirked as she clenched around him, her moans getting louder and louder. 

“You close, baby?” he asked, looking down at the girl laying beneath him. Y/N nodded frantically and moaned through the makeshift gag. He thrust into her roughly a few more times before pulling out of her again. “Didn’t think I’d let you cum that easy, did you?”  

He reached down pulling the panties from her mouth and tossing them on the floor. He manoeuvred her roughly so that she was on her knees with her face pressed against the mattress. Once again, he entered her, grabbing handfuls of her arse as he fucked her. He smacked his hand against the flesh sharply, earning a loud moan from Y/N, and leaving a large hand print on her skin. Remus’ thrusts became more sloppy as he reached his own climax, reaching round to pull Y/N up so her back was flush against his chest.  

“Want you to look at me when you cum, baby. Gonna come on my cock, yeah?” he said gruffly. 

“Y-yes, daddy.” she let out a strained moan, “so close.”  

Her eyes all but glazed over as she reached her peak, seeing stars as she clenched around him. Remus wrapped a hand around her throat, holding her in place as he fucked into her. Letting a strangled moan, came inside her, her body going limp against him. 

“Fuck.” she gasped. 

“You okay?” he asked, collapsing on the bed and pulling her towards him. 

“More than okay.” she smiled, her eyes fluttering shut as she snuggled into him. 

#remus lupin #remus lupin fanfiction #remus lupin xyou #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin smut #remus x reader

[thyme-in-a-bubble]

the smouldering scar

fused with the foe, chapter three

a/n: big reveal in this one, you guys. hold on to your butts!

summary: you didn’t know how long he remained silent, frozen in the depths of the answer your simple question apparently had, but eventually, you heard him say, “I wanna show you something.”

warnings: king!steve rogers x reader, fantasy AU (monsters, but not much magic), original fantasy world, enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, slow burn, innocent!reader, violence, gore, injury, crying

word count: 3430

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It nearly looked like snow. But you knew it wasn’t. It was ash that swirled around in the smoky air outside of the small windows. 

Sitting on the floor of the chamber that shot off of the grand throne room, your back was pressed back against the stone wall. Numerous servants, mostly elderly ones or others who couldn’t join on the battlefield, had, with a handful of wardens, all gathered in that meeting room. Some were seated at the round table in the middle while others had opted for the floor like you. 

Hugging your knees to your chest, one of your hands slowly slid up and down your shin in a self-soothing caress, the movement eventually came to a stop on the top of your knee. Glancing down, you couldn’t help but turn your wrist and stare at the symbolic scar that marked your palm. Without really realising it, your other fingers came up to trace it gently as the terrifying reality of what was occurring just outside of these castle walls nearly ate you alive. 

With every hellish thought that fluttered in your mind, you became nervous that you were mere moments away from throwing your breakfast back up. 

What if Steve didn’t make it back? What if he was lying dead somewhere right now? What if he was just charred enough to make his demise inevitable, but draw his last few moments out in a torturous wait? What if you had to rule this kingdom, that you’d barely even gotten your footing in, all alone? 

Suddenly, doors on the other side of the room were forced open so loudly that it ripped you from your paralysing thoughts and made you jump. Lifting yourself up to your feet, your eyes stayed glued to the exit.

But when the door to the chamber was pushed open, all of the air slipped out of your lungs in an instant. 

With soot and scrapes tainting their features, there stood the royal who wouldn’t escape your worries, alongside numerous soldiers behind him. 

“Turner, Hardy,” not even taking a second to breathe, he instantly called to the wardens who had been guarding the chamber, “go get some supplies, blankets, food and water, as well as some healing supplies to the throne room,” he commanded, “we’ll use it as a sanctuary and gather the people who lost their homes as well as prepare for some of the injured since the hospital is already dangerously close to full capacity–”

Before you even knew what was happening, you’d crossed the room and nearly tackled the king from how forcefully you threw your arms around him. A breath of air seeped out of his lungs at the blow. It wasn’t till his touch slowly found your spine that you realised what you had done. Scurrying back like his touch had shocked you, “I’m sorry,” your wide eyes blinked up at him and your stomach twisted at the reality of what you’d just done, “I didn’t–…” though when you met his gaze, your shoulders melted back down into place as you uttered, “hi.”

“Hey,” he breathed, staring down at you as guards rushed around him, dashing to fulfil his commands, “are you alright?” 

“I’m–…” for a split second you were gonna spill to him just how terrifying it had been, how scared you still were, but looking back at him and the other knights, seeing the obvious signs of the fire they’d just walked through, you instinctively withered down and replied, “yeah. I’m fine,” you tried your best to keep your tone steady, “are you? What happened? Did you–…”

“Steve,” haven already migrated into the chamber, Bucky then tossed the king a roll of bandages, “we’ve got this here, you go take care of your side.”

Watching Steve’s quick reflexes catch the cloth with one hand, your gaze then grew again as it scanned his frame, “your side? What happened to your side?”

“It’s nothing,” he tried to relax his clenched jaw as he said, “it’s fine.”

With chaos buzzing all around the room, you searched his steely eyes a moment before you then turned on your heel. Snatching up one of the healing kits resting on the central table, you then glanced over your shoulder and gestured with your head, “come.”

Weaving through the crowd, you slipped into the vacant war room. A thick table, littered with maps and little markers, grounded the space. Not glancing back at him as you heard him shadow you, he slowly began to lay down the weapons still strapped to him as you pulled out a chair and sat the wooden box down on the table, the glass vials within it clinked against each other at the force. 

“You don’t have to help me,” his deep voice was quiet as he stayed near the door, “this isn’t my first burn.”

Unlatching the lid, you glanced back at him as you opened the box, “do you not want my help?” 

“No,” he shook his head and lowered his shield and axe to a chair he passed when his feet finally began to shift. 

“Then take your armour off,” you nodded clinically as you returned your gaze to the herbs before you. 

As he began to near you, he slowly started to loosen the straps of his leather armour, gently shedding it as he watched you search through the kit. 

“Where is it, where is it…” you muttered as you plucked up the bottles and read the scribbled labels, looking for the right thing, “ah!” you exclaimed as you located the elderberry and milkweed salve, “there!” 

Steve’s brows knit together gently as he placed one of his layers on the chair beside the one you sat in, “…you know how to treat a burn?”

“Yes,” you met his eye, “why? Did you not think someone like me would know about the art of healing? That it would be too grotesque for my fragile little soul?”

“No, I just–… I didn’t know that about you,” he leaned back against the table. 

“So, what happened out there?” your eyes flicked down to the crimson stain on his ivory tunic. 

Letting out a low exhale, a moment passed before he uttered, “I don’t know if maybe we’d been more prepared that we would have been able to win… we tried everything, but it got away… flew out west… with barely even a fucking scratch…” his eyes stayed locked on the same crack in the floor by his boots, “people that I’ve known and fought beside all of my life got turned to ash in seconds… houses were burned down, fields were set a flame… it just doesn’t make sense… none of it does… I’ve studied dragons and never, anywhere, have I come across an account of them just stopping by a town to kill a few folks before up and leaving again. Dragons are greedy, they’re solitary, they’re highly intelligent, I–…” a heavy sigh then seeped from his lungs, “it just doesn’t make sense…”

A knock then echoed at the door. 

Clearing the thickness in his throat, Steve lifted his gaze and said, “yes?”

An elderly servant, balancing a tray, creaked the door open, “I thought some refreshments might do you good, your majesty.”

“Thank you, Hilda,” the king mustered a small smile as she sat the pitcher and glasses down beside him before disappearing out the door once more. 

Carefully, Steve then peeled his soot and blood-stained tunic over his head and revealed the nasty burn that stretched across his left ribs. 

It was terrible, but for a moment you grew thankful for his distracting injury as you tried your hardest not to make the face that his burly physique conjured. 

As you began to smear the salve carefully over the burn, a stifled groan slipped out of him at your first touch. 

“Sorry,” the muscles in your body tensed as you could only imagine the pain he was in. 

“It’s alright,” he uttered through controlled breaths as he watched your fingers glide over the angry blisters that bubbled at his scorched waist. 

Popping the cork back into the stout glass container when the salve had been spread over his wound, you then picked up the bandage and your efforts almost caused you to hug him again as you wrapped it around his abdomen. 

When the clean cloth was secured and you’d turned to pack the supplies back up, Steve suddenly remembered, “oh, you should probably have this back,” and removed the borrowed chain you’d been too blind to notice dangling from his neck. Placing the necklace in your palm, a small smile twitched at his lip, “thank you for lending it to me. One could always use a little more bravery and not just when an actual dragon’s spewing off fire over your head.”

“I guess so,” your head cocked slightly, unsure what prompted him to say that. 

Searching your expression, he said, “you know, because of the rune.”

“What?”

“Because it means courage,” he pointed down to the scratch in the opalescent stone, “did you don't know that?”

“It does?” you glanced down at the necklace like you were seeing it for the first time. 

“Yeah. Is that not why you wear it?”

“No, I’ve just always worn it,” your head gently shook from side to side, “kinda thought of it as a good luck charm since it’s the only item of my mother's I’ve ever had…”

“Cosima, are you sure there isn’t anything more we can do to help?” Steve asked the farmer sincerely. 

Shaking her head, her grey locks were cropped so short that they only offered a silver shadow of hair, “you’ve already done so much, your majesty.” 

Glancing around at the charred remains of the farm that had gotten the brunt of the dragon attack, the king spotted the gloomy girl that shyly shadowed Cosima’s wife as her fingers stayed weaved in the spotted fur of a young sheepdog. 

“Is that your granddaughter back there playing with that puppy?” 

Glancing back over her shoulder, a sombre smile twitched at her lip, “yeah, that’s our little parsnip.”

“How is she taking it?” he asked slowly. 

“I think our attempt at distracting her is actually working, even just a little bit…” her eyes stayed on the dog a moment longer before she glanced back at the king and you beside him, “the attack turned too many children into orphans. We’re staying with the blacksmith and his wife while we rebuild the farm,” she spoke, “and his brother and sister-in-law didn’t make it as well, so now they are taking care of their nephew.”

“Wait, Mary and Richard?” Steve’s eyes widened slightly, “I didn’t know they were among the deceased.”

“I’m sorry to be the one to tell you.” 

Standing by his side, you’d let Steve do most of the talking. Not just because he knew the people better, but you also just didn’t know what to say without bursting into tears. 

Staring at the kid slightly obscured by her grandmother, your feet couldn’t help but shift closer to her and Steve’s voice, “…I was thinking of gathering the town council again tomorrow if you could spread the word to the rest of the members,” slowly faded away as you neared.

Kneeling down before her, you mustered a gentle smile as you asked, “is this your dog?”

Staring up at you, her weary and bloodshot eyes were wide as she quietly replied, “yes.” 

“What’s its name?”

Scarcely breathing in your presence, the girl timidly said, “his name is Oak.”

“Hello, Oak,” you scratched the puppy’s fluffy ear, “aren’t you adorable…” 

“Excuse me, what?” you glanced up from the expansive map that screeched across the table of the war room and blinked back at the king. 

“I said, what do you think we should do?” Steve repeated, “what do you wanna do?”

“You want my opinion?” your shock shined clear through your tone, “really?”

“Of course, I do.”

Letting your gaze flutter to the seagulls flying by outside the window, you exhaled, “well… I’m not sure what I could do to help. I honestly feel kinda helpless,” you shared, “I’m not a carpenter, I can’t help rebuild the homes that burnt down…” but then an idea tickled the back of your mind, “where is it again that the orphanage is located?”

“In The Dandelion Quarter, down by the docks,” Steve’s chin tilted slightly, “what were you thinking?”

“Well, it’s not much, but I kinda wanna go down there, visit the kids if they’ll let me. I don’t know if that’s dumb, but maybe it wouldn’t be nothing if I put some effort into distracting them a bit or whatever they might need. Is that stupid? To do that for as long as they’ll let me?”

“No,” he shook his head, “no, not at all.” 

“Really?”

“Yeah,” letting his fingers ghost over the backs of the chairs, he slowly curved around to the side of the table where you stood, “we both have an idea of what it’s like to lose your parents. I think it’s a great idea.”

As your lips twitched up into a smile, so did his. 

Though as you stood there and momentarily let yourself disappear into his gaze, a thought struck you and you soon found your lips parting once more.  

“Hey, Steve?”

“Hm?” he simply hummed. 

“Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

Noticing that you were gnawing at the inside of your cheek, you forced yourself to stop before you uttered, “why is it that you call me dove?”

You didn’t know how long he remained silent, frozen in the depths of the answer your simple question apparently had, but eventually, you heard him say, “I wanna show you something.”

“Alright,” slowly nodded before following him out of the chamber. 

You’d never before entered the room he then showed you to, never even realised there was anything down this corridor. Though a bit dusty, the magnificent office he’d led you to only granted you more questions than answers. 

“This was my mom’s study,” Steve said slowly as he stepped aside and let you explore the space, “I haven’t changed a thing in here since she died. Everything’s still exactly as she left it.” 

As you glanced around the room, from the polished desk to the untouched tea set still sitting by a soft armchair, a painting on the far side wall caught your eye and made all of the hair of your body stand up.

The portrait was in an informal style, depicting a teenage girl with her arm around another. One of them you knew to be the same lady illustrated countless other paintings within the castle, but the other, the young plump woman depicted in a pair of billowy pants, her you recognised as well.

“Oh my–, is that–…” scarcely breathing at all, you tore your stare away from the painting, “Steve, why is there a portrait of my mother in here?”

Sucking in a breath, his low voice then found your ears once more, “because that is a painting of my mother and her best friend.”

“H-her–,” you felt as if the world might fall out from under you, “what?”

“Our mothers were friends,” he shared slowly, “they grew up together.”

With brows tightly knitted together, you blinked between the king and the painting, “she was born here?” 

“She was,” he nodded. 

“I–… I knew my mom wasn’t from Obelón, but I never knew she was from here…” tears began to blur up your vision as you stared up at the portrait, “this doesn’t make any sense… I always thought my mother hated this kingdom… she was on a diplomatic mission here when she died, trying to stop the war our marriage eventually put an end to.”

“No, she wasn’t,” he softly corrected. 

Whipping your head back at him once more, “what?”

“She wasn’t here for any political reason,” he disclosed, “it wasn’t unusual for her to visit her home, but even that wasn’t the reason why she was here when she passed,” he sucked in a breath before continuing, “Y/n, she was trying to escape. Trying to find a way for both her and her children to leave your father.”

“She was? I always thought they were happy together, that they loved each other.”

“They might have in the very beginning, I don’t know,” you slowly sank down into a chair as he spoke, “but I do remember the way that she spoke about him back then and it was with anything but love. I might have been young, but I wasn’t a complete idiot about what was going on around me.”

“You knew her?”

“I did,” he exhaled, “I mean, I was just a small child, but yeah, I remember her well.” 

Feeling your body tremble at the discovery, you hazily heard yourself ask, “would you–… could you tell me about her?”

Offering you a small nod, he then sat down in the armchair opposite the one you found yourself in.

“My mom always told me that she and Saoirse were practically attached at the hip as kids. Where the crown princess went, your mother followed and vice versa. But at my mother’s coronation, Saoirse met King Ivan and it didn’t take long before he swept her with him. They tried to keep in contact, the best that they could, but at one point the letters were so few and far in between that my mom had nearly lost all hope in the kinship. But then, one day, after I was born, your mother started coming around again. She became like family to me as well. Taught me how to skip rocks, how to throw a punch, she even told me stories of the gods. But the last time she was here it was different, everything was different… my memories from that far back are fairly spotty, but I still remember every single thing from that night… the night that you were born… when Saoirse realised her fate, she made my mother promise her that she’d look out for you, that she’d protect you no matter what. We tried to keep you here, to keep you from going back to the very place your mom had worked so hard at freeing you from, but at the end of the day, all we had to prove you staying here were the dying words of a mother, not the blood you shared with a king. My mom always kept an eye on you for the remainder of her life. And then she made me promise to do the same.”

Feeling a heavy tear drip from your chin and down into your lap, you uttered, “so, that’s why you married me?”

Meeting your eye, he uttered, “I married you to protect the daughter of a very kind lady I once knew. I married you to keep up a promise I made to my mother.” 

“I see…” the fact that he wed you out of kindness and duty somehow didn’t help how overwhelmed you still felt, “I still don’t understand though why you call me dove. I get why you told me all of this, and I’m-… thank you for doing so, but what does it have to do with that nickname?”

Weaving his fingers together, he glanced down at them, “your mom, uh… it’s what she called you whenever she’d talk to her belly,” unclasping his hands, one of them briefly fluttered up to scratch the nape of his neck, “hell, my mom even continued to call you that long after your father gave you a proper name. I didn’t really realise I was doing it, guess it subconsciously just kind of slipped out when I met you, but I can stop if that’s what you’d prefer.”

“No,” you swiftly shook your head, “you don’t have to stop.”

Glancing up at you, he offered a light nod, “alright.”

Letting your vision flutter back to the youthful depiction of your mother, your eyes took in every little detail as a stomach-turning thought haunted your mind till you couldn’t ignore it any longer. 

“Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“…do you remember what chamber it was that she–…” turning your head to meet his gaze, you couldn’t get yourself to finish the sentence, though thankfully, the king didn’t need any more words to understand. 

“I do…”

Your eyes flickered to your lap to spot the few splotchy tears that had stained the silk.

“…could you show it to me?”

© 2024 thyme-in-a-bubble 

#lea’s writing #eflorr au #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers au #steve rogers series #king!steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x y/n #steve rogers x female reader #steve rogers x f!reader #steve rogers fic #steve rogers fanfic #captain america x reader #steve rogers angst #steve rogers fluff #chris evans x reader #steve rogers hurt/comfort #chris evans au

[floralcyanide]

𝐢'𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐢𝐝𝐞 - 𝐜𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧!𝐨𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫

cillian murphy!oppenheimer x reader

DISCLAIMER: this is fanfiction. it isn’t real. Oppenheimer is a real person, however Cillian!Oppenheimer is not. he is a character. if you have something bad to say just keep it in the drafts (:

“let's all go play Nagasaki, we can all get vaporized. hold my hand, let's turn to ash. I'll see you on the other side.” - 137 by Brand New

warnings: spoilers for Oppenheimer, descriptions of nuclear bomb/ explosion, fear

word count: 1316

author's note: I love Cillian so much, and he did so good in Oppy!! I just had to write about it. please keep in mind there are spoilers in this, don't read if you haven't seen the movie. also, there's only like, one other fic on here for Cillian!Oppy which is sad but I'm sure there'll be more soon. (:

masterlist | add yourself to the taglist here

For the last few nights, Robert has woken up abruptly from his sleep. He’ll sit upright and pant, trying his best to catch his breath. It alarms you every time he does this despite him acting like it didn’t happen. But you know he doesn’t go back to sleep after because you feel him toss and turn until morning. Test day is tomorrow, and you can feel Robert’s nervous energy radiating off him. This was it- this was the epitome of his life’s work, and if it failed, he would be lost. And you’re torn between wanting it not to work for humanity’s sake and wanting it to work for Robert’s. 

You have worked alongside your husband for many years despite the pushback from society. But he knows your intelligence and insisted you be involved in the Project. He refused to have anything to do with it unless you assisted him. Lieutenant Groves reluctantly agreed, but he still knew just how capable you were to help with the Project. 

You’re very much a housewife outside of work, though. Despite being a knowledgeable person, you still have duties at home. You’re busy folding laundry when Robert exits the bedroom after getting ready for a meeting. It was the last one before tomorrow’s events. Robert doesn’t say much to you before bidding his farewell and heading out. It wasn’t abnormal for him to mumble a goodbye before putting his hat on and leaving without anything else said. He was reserved unless it was necessary to say something. That’s one thing you admired about Robert; he could be cynical and sarcastic yet humble and a man of few words. 

You would attend a later meeting that evening, so it’s possible you may not see Robert until bedtime. You aren’t worried about him not kissing your son goodnight or missing dinner. You mostly worry he won’t sleep enough.

Later in bed, you and Robert both lay on your backs, staring at the ceiling wordlessly. 

“How are you feeling?” you suddenly ask, breaking the eerie silence.

Robert opens his mouth before shutting it again, shrugging.

You sigh, turning on your side to face him, “I can feel you have nightmares, you know.”

Robert cuts his eyes toward you before giving in and rolling over to face you as well, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” you furrow your brow, “There’s nothing to be sorry for. What we’re- what you’re doing is incredibly stressful and world-changing. It’s normal to be anxious over it.”

“That’s exactly why I’m anxious.”

“Which part?”

“The world-changing part.”

You’re quiet for a moment before answering, “What do you dream about?”

Robert’s eyes study yours closely, searching for any instance of potential recoil from what he’s about to tell you. He searches even though he knows he won’t find it because Robert knows that you’d never leave him no matter what. Even if his nightmares were incomparable to even the most descriptive horror stories. What’s worse is that Robert knows no one has ever seen the results of a bomb the magnitude of the one he’s created. So it’s up to his imagination. And his imagination is one of grotesque imagery that he hopes won’t come to fruition.

“Death,” Robert says plainly, with a cold look, “Destruction. Everything in my dreams is obliterated by fire and disintegrates into ash, and even the ash turns into nothingness.”

You purse your lips, gently reaching your hand up to touch Robert’s cheek, running your thumb over his cheekbone.

“I don’t fear for me or for us. I fear for our children,” Robert gives a watery laugh, “And the world they’ll have to grow up in knowing that such weaponry exists.”

You tuck Robert’s head into your chest, “You are merely the creator, darling. You have no control over how they use your creation. And I know that worries you, but you cannot do much about it.”

“I know. You’re right. But the fact I’m the one responsible for such a destructive device,” Robert trails off.

“Your creation is for science exploration and nothing more,” you say, “Remember that tomorrow.”

When you awake at two in the morning to prepare for the test, Robert has already gotten up from bed. You figure he didn’t sleep and has already made his way down the street to prepare. You hurriedly get dressed, grab your son, and walk out the front door. You let your neighbor, one of the wives of another scientist, watch over your son while you and Robert are away. A vehicle has been sent to your home, probably by Robert, to retrieve you. The ride is quiet and bumpy. You figure they would take you to the main hall, but they keep driving into the desert. Everyone must already be at Trinity. 

Trinity is alight, with people who worked on the project scurrying around to find the perfect spot to watch the explosion. You climb off the vehicle and run to the tent where Robert resides with the others. A relieved smile grows on his face when he sees you walk in.

“I didn’t want to see this without you,” he says, pulling you in for a tight hug.

“Did you sleep at all?” you mutter into his shoulder.

“Unfortunately, no. But sleep can come later,” Robert says, returning to the detonation station. 

You cross your arms and walk around aimlessly, watching the scientists scramble to take their places and put sun shades on.

“Ninety minutes,” Robert says from behind you.

You turn around to look at him, a half smile growing on your face, “I’m proud of you.”

“And I’m proud of you, too. Without your suggestions, we may not be here,” Robert plays with a loose strand of your hair.

“I doubt that,” you chuckle, “Your brainpower alone has done the job.”

“I’ll see you on the other side,” Robert says.

After a little under an hour and a half of checking that everything was perfect and prepared, everyone took their places where they wanted to view the test. You’re next to Robert, with goggles on your face that match his. Both of you have ports to get a fantastic view. The countdown begins.

Everyone becomes dead silent as the bomb is detonated. The flash causes you to gasp, your eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness despite the goggles. When the light subsides, you see a mushroom cloud of nothing but fire beginning to rise to the atmosphere. Beside you, Robert grabs hold of your hand and grasps it tightly. 

“Now I am become Death, the Destroyer of Worlds,” Robert says with a haunting tone.

You remove your goggles along with everyone else as you squint against the harsh brightness. Before you is the most terrifying, breathtaking thing you’ve ever seen. A firestorm that is capable of mass destruction. A scientific miracle. But before anyone can relax, the sound of air rumbling and rushing toward the tent is heard. The sound of the explosion hits the viewing base violently. The blast wave smacks everyone as they brace themselves against the high wind. Once the hot gust of air subsides and the explosion tapers down, everyone begins to cheer and clap.

“We did it,” Robert says in disbelief before he looks up at you, “We actually did it.”

You nod, smiling at him proudly before engulfing him in a hug.

“I have destroyed the world,” Robert whispers in your ear, and you pull away to see an odd flash of emotion cross his face.

“You haven’t,” you whisper back, as people begin to approach your husband, “But you’ve changed it forever.”

As colleagues surround Robert and move him outside, you remain in the tent for a moment. You replay the mushroom-looking explosion in your head. You begin to ponder what the Manhattan Project’s creation will do for the world. And whether it’s good or bad.

Either way, everyone has been forever changed.

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