#and it comes out meaner than you thought! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

sinner-as-saint · 1 month

Text

meaner than my demons

Dark!Bucky x Avenger!Reader au

Run-through: You wake up in a manor in the middle of nowhere with no recollection of how you got there. All you remember is that you and Bucky were out on a mission, and then nothing. Bucky…? This wasn’t his doing, was it? What you didn’t know was that Bucky, of all people, had all the reasons to become the bad guy. To avenge himself, what was done to him, and all that was mercilessly taken from him. Nobody knew just how close he’d gotten to just giving into the twisted temptations that beckoned him over. All he needed was a slight nudge, a purpose – and you gave him that unknowingly. So he went, and he dragged you over to the darkness with him.

Themes: angst, dark!bucky, kidnapping, sort of beauty and the beast vibes, mentions of bucky’s traumatic past as the winter soldier, smut, fluff, praise kink, HEA but slightly ambiguous ending ;)

a/n: the angst is strong with this one. Also, I was merely experimenting with this character so take nothing too seriously <3 ily (p.s: this is long, grab a snack)

There’s a minotaur in the middle of the maze.

That sentence echoed in your head as you slowly blinked your eyes open. Your vision was blurry, your head spun even as you laid down looking up at the shiny, intricate chandelier above the canopy bed you were currently in.

You focused on the bizarrely alluring chandelier, blinking as you tried to bring your vision back to normal, trying to get your head to stop spinning.

It felt like you were waking up after a night of heavy drinking. Slowly, as if not trusting your body, you sat up on the comfy bed.

There’s a minotaur in the middle of the maze.

There was that damn sentence again. What the fuck is even that? Where did it come from? You squinted as you looked around, feeling a throbbing headache forming. Nevermind the strange sentence, where were you was the real question here. How did you end up in this bed?

Panicking you quickly assessed your body. You were still in your mission gear, except none of your guns were in their holsters. Other than that, everything felt fine. You weren’t hurt anywhere, except for a pain at the back of your neck. You moved your head, trying to figure out what the cause of the pain was, but other than some sore muscles, nothing hurt.

You carefully sat on the edge of the bed, planting your boots on the ground and looking around. Judging by the light coming in through the ridiculously large georgian windows, it looked like it was well into the evening. And the room was… beautiful in a gothic, dark way.

Apart from the fireplace within which was lit a small fire, and the golden scones on the walls and the chandelier above the bed, everything else was dark. The walls were dark green, the large canopy bed was all-black with dark grey bedding, the high ceiling was covered in detailed moulding. Dark, wooden coffee table and bookshelves, black leather upholstered sofas, a huge chest drawer in the corner.

If you were kidnapped, you thought, you’d likely be in some dark room with no windows – like a dungeon. Not in a properly furnished, clean bedroom.

You frowned as you tried to go back, trying to figure out how you got here. You got up from the bed and approached the windows, looking out. For a moment you were mesmerised by the view outside. From this window, you could see the sprawling wings of the house on either side of you. A manor, then, not a house.

Situated at the foot of hills which rose behind the manor, partially shrouded in dense fog. Some countryside, then? You tucked that information away as you scanned the area even more. The manor it seemed was surrounded by thick woods. The hills, the fog, the dark green woods, it all seemed like it was a scene out of a mysterious, dangerous novel. The silence, the secrecy…

You looked further around and noticed a walled garden not too far to the right, and to the complete left a… huge hedge maze. You could only see part of it but–

There’s a minotaur in the middle of the maze…?

The memory came flooding into your brain, and you almost lost your balance for a moment.

You had been hiking up these hills for days. But a mission was a mission, correct? You looked behind you and noticed Bucky frowning in deep thought.

“Are you sure about this?” You asked your good friend. You and Bucky had been paired together for many missions recently, all of them successful. You two made a great team. He wasn’t much of a talker, and you enjoyed silence and solitude.

“Yeah,” He mumbled, coming to a stop beside you. “I received solid intel about a house just beyond these woods. The owner deals in illegal substances,” He added in his usual, dark-humoured, self-deprecating tone, “the kind that can create worse creatures than super soldiers.”

“Hey!” You tapped him on the chest playfully, disapproving of his joke. Still you said, “I, for one, am glad they made you.” You added to his weird humour, “I get a good friend and a perfect bodyguard all in one.”

Bucky gave you a rare smile. It made him look boyish and young, and… handsome. You looked away quickly. It always did something to you, that smile. It was a useless little crush you’d been nurturing since that day – months ago – when Bucky took a bullet to his shoulder to save you during a crossfire.

“You can stay here if you want,” Bucky suggested, “I’ll go take a look and come back.”

“No,” You reached into your backpack and pulled out two fancy binoculars, handing one to him, “We just need to get on top of this hill, and then we’ll keep an eye on the house and its ground for a while,” You explained as you began hiking up the hill again, Bucky following you loyally like he had this whole time, “And then we’ll make a plan. Okay?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Getting on top of the hill was no big deal. The hike was easy and the hill was high enough that you had a clear vision of the manor and its grounds even with thick woods between the hill and the manor.

You let out a gasp the moment you looked through the binoculars. Bucky beside you did the same thing, not gasping at the beauty of it all though. Then again, few things impressed Bucky. You supposed this luxurious, gothic manor and its elegant grounds weren’t on the list.

“Whoever this is should be ashamed that they’re using this beautiful place for something so dark.” You whispered, looking and taking in the details of the manor. It looked enchanting in the morning light.

“You like it?”

“Bucky, one would have to be an absolute idiot to not appreciate the beauty of this place. No neighbours, no one to bother you. Just foggy hills, dense woods and… ooh!” You exclaimed with genuine happiness, forgetting for a moment that you were here on a mission and not sightseeing. “Bucky! There’s a maze!”

“Really?”

You couldn’t look away. You zoomed as much as you could, trying to take in the details. “Yes, an actual maze and it’s huge!” You had the biggest smile on your face. “Oh this is a dream, and… oh look! There’s a minotaur in the middle of the maze!”

Bucky let out a chuckle. “How cliché.”

You kept watching, letting your guard completely down for a moment. You didn’t see Bucky approaching, you didn’t notice the shift, not until it was too late.

“I’m sorry, doll.”

That was the last thing you heard before feeling a burning sensation at the back of your neck, and then darkness and the warmth of Bucky’s chest as he held you to keep you from falling on the ground.

Fuck.

Bucky?

Why would he do that? You didn’t do anything. You were breathing heavily now, looking around for a way out. These windows didn’t open, and the door must be–

It opened right as you stared at it, and in walked Bucky. Dressed differently. He wasn’t in his usual mission gear. No leather jackets, no gun holsters, not even his knives. Just a casual shirt, and comfy trousers. Like this was normal. Like he was at home.

Your eyes widened as this started to make a little more sense. But you didn’t dare think about it properly. He wouldn’t… right? He was your friend. You two had fought together for years. He was one of the good guys… right?

“Buck?”

He shut the door behind him as he stepped further into the room. “I came as fast as I could when they told me you were beginning to wake up.” He said a little sheepishly.

What? But most importantly, “Who’s ‘they’?” You asked, trying your best to put all your training into practice and keeping your calm.

“My housekeepers.” He answered like it was the most obvious thing.

You noted the way he avoided your eyes, the way he kept flexing his metal hand. Bucky was slightly nervous.

You took a step back, pressing against the cold windows. “What is going on? What is this place? Did you…” Your voice cracked as you asked, “Did you drug me?”

“You wouldn’t come willingly.” He answered, staring deeply at the fireplace as he approached it and placed his metal hand on the mantle above. “And you wouldn’t be willing to listen to me.”

Your heart pounded. What was he talking about? “This place, this house is… yours?”

Bucky nodded.

“And there is no guy dealing in dangerous substances, is there?” You figured this was a trap and you walked right into it.

“No.” He answered truthfully. “There isn’t. This is my home. Well, one of them.”

“Bucky,” You whispered, cautiously. Afraid. Wary. His home? Since when? “Why?”

He finally looked at you. The soft fire in the fireplace lit one side of his face and hid the other side in shadows. Fitting, you thought, despite it all. “You don’t have to be afraid of me.” He said, almost like he was offended that you would think so. “I would never hurt you, doll.”

“I want the truth, Buck.” You stared deep into his familiar blue eyes, trying to find your friend in there. And he was there, but he was behind a dark smoke screen. “Please.”

Bucky sighed. “Take a seat.” He said softly, settling down on one of the many sofas scattered around the spacious room.

You didn’t. You remained there by the windows, like the distance between you and him would save you from the dangers you weren’t aware of yet.

He sighed again, “Fine, be difficult then.” He got up, and began walking towards you.

You panicked, remaining frozen in place for a moment. But by the time you moved to get away from him, he was too close. You went to run away but his metal hand firmly around your wrist stopped you.

“I won’t hurt you.” He repeated, pulling you close until you hit his chest, then wrapped his other arms around you. “Believe me,” He said.

You shook your head as you looked into his eyes, the hidden darkness in them. “What happened to you?” You whispered, “Why are you doing this?”

He frowned as if you were the one being ridiculous. “Don’t you see? This place is perfect for us.”

For us?

You noted the strange haze in his captivating eyes. Something was different about him.

“What?” You blinked, ignoring the many questions you had. “Bucky, our friends, they need us.” You tried reasoning, though in vain, “We need to go back. And keep fighting–”

“Back to what?” He argued, cutting you off. “Fight for who?”

“The innocent people, Buck. The ones who are constant victims of our enemies, and–,”

“I was a victim too.” He said, silencing you at once with a dark tone. “No one fought for me.”

He rarely ever brought up HYDRA, so this was new territory to you. You approached it carefully, softening your voice as you said, “Steve did.”

Bucky surprised you by scoffing carelessly. Dropping his voice he said, “And yet, all I ever was to him in the end was disposable.”

That shut you up.

For a moment you felt a fraction of the pain he felt. You always empathised with him, even before you started nurturing that little crush you had on him. “But you have the chance now, Buck.” You tried reasoning, calmly and no longer resisting his grip on your wrist. “Let’s go back, and fight so no one ever has to suffer like you did.”

“No.”

The finality in his tone made you shiver. “So what? You’re gonna keep me captive here and we’re gonna let the bad people win?”

Bucky sighed. “They already won. Don’t you see the state of this world?”

You flinched. “That’s your goal then? To punish the world and everyone in it?”

“Punish it?” He scoffed. “No. I want to see it try and fend for itself. Or watch it die trying.”

“Bucky…” You didn’t recognise the man you were looking at. “We can make a difference, no matter how minor. We’re the good guys, remember?”

He let go of your hand, turned to face the windows pensively. “I’m done being good.”

You remained frozen in place, assessing the situation quickly. He had his back to you, so he was confident you wouldn’t hurt him. He had shut the door on his way in but never locked it. That must mean even if you got past the door, he must’ve made sure you wouldn’t make it out of this house.

But you couldn’t leave, could you? You believed him when he said he wouldn’t hurt you. You wouldn’t leave him here like this. Bucky was hurting, and he was acting this way because of that. But the house? Why bring you here? Why drug you? What did he want?

“Bucky,” You said after taking a deep breath. “You’re my friend, we’ve fought together for years. You rescued me so many times. You took a bullet for me. I know you’re good.”

He shook his head, looking out the window. “I’ve been good, all my life. I was good when I followed Steve and believed in what he stood for. I was good when I was captured, and forced to be a killing machine. I was good, deep down I know I was still good, even when they wiped my mind each time and made me perform however they wanted.”

You flinched, your heart sinking with each word that came out of his mouth.

He continued, as if numb to it all.

“I was desperately good even when I found myself stuck in a wrong, superhuman body. I was good even when everyone around me expected me to get over it and keep fighting like a good little soldier.” He finally turned to you and said, “I’m done, now. What did it ever give me?”

His words hit harder than a punch to the face. “Buck…” You almost comforted him, because there was still your dear friend, broken. But wrong. So wrong to believe there weren't still good things to fight for. “You have people who care for you.”

“Do I?” His tone was mocking. And you didn’t dare reply, so he continued. “I’ve been used in experiments that had no ethical limits. I’ve been a weapon, a commodity. I’ve been a mindless soldier. I’ve been stuck in the body of a murderer. I’ve been a throwaway friend. No one ever cared.”

“I do.”

Bucky was quiet. His shoulders moving just a little as he breathed deeply.

You continued. “And Sam does. And so do all of our friends.” You argued, trying to find something, anything to prove a point, “I mean, all of Wakanda believed in you when they helped you.”

“They did.” He almost smiled in gratitude. “But they never trusted me.” He sounded genuinely sad. “I remained a weapon.” He looked down at his shiny metal arm and added, “So easily dismantled.”

Was this really how you would lose him? To the darkness in his head? Your heart pounded as you looked at him. Standing proud and tall, looking out the window as the darkening evening made the room even dimmer. The last logs in the fireplace cracked. And Bucky was still so beautiful standing by the window, but broken. Like a tortured and grim lord of the manor.

“It doesn’t have to be like this, Buck.” You took a step back when he turned to face you.

“No, it doesn’t.” He agreed, weirdly. Then added, “I don’t want to fight anymore. I don’t care about the rest of the world, I’m done being a good little soldier. I just want to be a man.” He took a few more steps until he was right in front of you. His handsome face so close to yours. “And be with the woman I want, in our own quiet little paradise.” His hand reached out to gently stroke your cheek. His metal hand found itself on your waist, tugging you closer gently. “Isn’t this perfect, doll? Hmm?”

You were so surprised that you didn’t even properly register the meaning behind his words until you replayed it in your head a few times. “You… what?”

“You know,” He smirked, fingers now tracing your parted lips. “At first I wondered what was taking you so long to realise. I’m not very good at being subtle with my feelings, you see. But you never caught on.” His smirk widened. “And then I found out why in the best way possible.”

You were afraid to ask for some reasons. “Why?” You whispered.

Bucky leaned in, brushing the cold tip of his nose against your cheek, and said, “Because you like me too, and you were too busy hiding your own feelings that you didn’t pay attention to mine. Wanna know how I know?” He chuckled, “I heard you whispering my name under your breath as you touched yourself. Too many times to count.”

You gasped in surprise, unable to move.

“Well,” He said, “That’s a figure of speech, of course I know exactly how many times. I kept count.” He continued, loving the way you began squirming in embarrassment. “It’s the metal hand, isn’t it? It turns you on?” He chuckled.

“You…” You finally found your voice and stumbled on your words, “You had no right.”

He laughed, pulling away to look at you. “To listen to you moaning my name? Not my fault you’re so loud to my very, very sensitive ears.” He teased.

He was so close. His chest, so warm. His arms around you, so perfect that you almost forgot all about the conversation you had before all this.

You stepped away, and out of his embrace. Taking a deep breath, you tried to focus on the important thing here. “What do you want, Bucky?”

He shrugged, “Well right now I want us to have dinner, it’s getting late and you haven’t eaten all day.”

You sighed. “Then? When I want to leave, you’ll stop me?”

Bucky was so very still. It was inhuman. Then again, he was not exactly just a regular guy. “If I wanted you trapped here you would have woken up tied to the bed, doll.”

“So I can walk away from here if I want?” You asked. No. That would be too easy. Wouldn’t it?

“You could.”

Another trap, you figured. For the first time since this absurd evening started, you straightened your back and faced Bucky with a little less fear, and embarrassment. “You won’t win, Bucky. Not like this.”

He gave you a handsome, smug grin and said, “We’ll talk about all that later. Now, do what you need to do, freshen up,” He pointed at the door in the corner of the bedroom, the bathroom you assumed, “And join me for dinner downstairs.” He leaned in and too casually kissed your forehead. “Don’t keep me waiting, doll.”

And he left. Leaving you even more confused than when you didn’t have any answers.

You thought about it as you reluctantly made your way into the bathroom which was just as dark and luxurious as the rest of the bedroom. Dark green walls, a large white and gold tub, mouldings on the ceiling matching the bedroom, large gilded mirrors and sinks. A spacious shower booth, with fancy faucets and shower heads.

You checked the many cabinets and found everything one could need. The skin care products looked inviting but first of all, you needed a hot shower. You grabbed a neatly folded bathrobe and some body wash products and stepped into the booth.

Then you spent your time thinking about everything. What did you know as of now? That Bucky owned this place, it was his home. That Bucky was done fighting, he had plans to say ‘fuck it all’ and retire. That he liked you back? Fine, he did. He wanted you to stay here with him? And never fight again? That was a whole other thing you had to worry about. But first, how to get out of here?

Also how did Bucky afford this place? Had he always been filthy rich?

What was the endgame here? And if he managed to keep you here, would any of your friends come looking for you? No one even knew where you were, that’s how much you trusted Bucky. The moment he brought this fake mission up you agreed to come with him immediately. Alright, your little crush had had an influence on your decision making but still.

Could you trust Bucky now? It felt foolish to admit, but yes. Yes you could. Bucky would never hurt you.

So you got out of the shower, with more questions and made your way back to the room and found neatly folded clothes on the bed. Soft, comfy, casual clothes. You put them on and took a deep breath before you stepped out of the room.

As you made your way down one of the two ornate staircases, you hoped you’d find Bucky again somewhere down here. Meanwhile you couldn’t help but admire his home. It was… hauntingly beautiful. It was more dark than lit. Rich colours: dark green, dark red, black. Gilded picture frames along the hallways, large foyer, high ceilings, carved designs on almost all the furniture. Everything screamed luxury, expensive taste, old money, and like a home out of another era. An older era.

You couldn’t see any of the housekeepers, but you soon found Bucky sitting at the head of a ridiculously fancy dining table in the dining room.

“There you are,” He said, placing his wine glass down, “I was beginning to think you must be trying to get away.” He teased.

You rolled your eyes and then quickly took in the room. Just as spacious as the rest of the house. A fireplace in a corner, tall arched windows, dark red curtains which allowed just the briefest amount of moonlight to come in. The room was well lit, and you couldn’t miss the grand chandelier above the adorned table and chairs.

Sitting at the head of that table, Bucky reminded you of a bored prince – surrounded by unexplainable luxury which suited him too well.

You took a seat at the other end of the table, facing Bucky fully. He noted your tactic and smirked. Then you said, “I didn't know you were rich.” Because surely super soldiers aren’t getting paid this much.

He shrugged like it was no big deal, “I’m over a century old, doll. I would be an absolute idiot if I didn’t amass a fortune that could last me a couple more lifetimes.”

You also noted the way he used your own words against you, but kept quiet. “Right. But how exactly?”

He explained. “A lot of the people I was asked to... get rid of for HYDRA were influential people. Rich, wealthy, borderline royalty. And they would always try to bribe me just to be spared. They offered me everything I wanted if I let them go.”

He sighed, almost in annoyance of the memories.

He continued, “I couldn't let them go of course, but they always revealed all their secrets during their last moments.” His stare was distant. “And after the job was done, whatever they left behind, whatever they offered, locations of their hidden wealth and riches, it was all mine for the taking.” He added, “And since I was a good little machine, HYDRA never looked too deep into what I did as long as I got the job done.”

Everytime Bucky opened up about his past, you realised that there was so much about him that you didn’t know. “That’s a lot of secrets.”

“Indeed.”

“And this manor? It’s one of the secrets left behind by someone you got rid of as well?”

“No,” He said, “This was built from the ground up. Decades ago.”

Decades. Again, another reminder of how many lives he had lived in the past century. It was almost fascinating. You opened your mouth to ask another question, but the door behind Bucky – which you hadn’t noticed earlier – opened and in walked two ladies with full trays in their hands. One of the trays filled with food, including a glass of wine, was brought over to you.

You eyed the tray for a moment before you sent a questioning glare at Bucky.

“What? Is it a surprise that I know what you like?” There was that smug grin again on his handsome face.

Hunger won over confusion and anger, so you took a bite out of some food before you asked, “How did you put up such a good façade? For so long?” Hiding all of this couldn’t have been easy, right?

“I didn't.” He answered. “I thought a broken soldier was what I needed to be, all I could ever be.” He smiled, “Then I met you and for the first time, I craved a simpler life. One where we could have nothing but time to do what we wanted, and no longer have to partake in fights that aren't ours.”

You genuinely wanted to know, so you asked softly, “Is this truly what you want, Buck? To sit here and say to hell with the world outside?”

“Isn’t it peaceful?” He questioned, “No meetings, or briefings. No country out to get us, no enemies out to kill us.”

You remained quiet. For a little while, you both ate in silence. You could feel Bucky’s eyes on each one of your movements. He kept quiet though, and then you asked, “Why is no one out to get you? Given who you are and who you used to be, one would assume you’d have the most enemies out there.”

“I have friends in all the right places.” He answered.

You frowned. “What does that mean?”

He smirked, “Now, I can’t give away all my secrets, can I?” He said as he stood up, wiping the corners of his mouth with a napkin. “I have some things I need to do, you’ll find your way back to your room?”

You nodded, though suspicious at the sudden freedom.

He whispered a quick ‘good night’ and left. Which made you frown in confusion because why would he leave you here? When you could easily walk out? Was he expecting you to try and escape? Was he hoping you would?

You got up from the table, and carefully walked out of the dining room, stepping into the hallway. You didn’t take the time to admire the scones on the walls, the paintings, anything. All you saw was the foyer and beyond which was the grand entrance of the manor.

Even from the inside you could see the foggy air outside. The fog swirling around like smoke. It looked cold out. Even if you made a run for it, you would be sick and frozen by morning.

You stood there for a moment, steps away from the foyer. There were no cameras, that was the first thing you looked for in the house. None of the housekeepers could be seen, you realised they made themselves scarce.

You should’ve taken the staircase and gone back up to the bedroom. Maybe you’d question Bucky tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow he’d listen. But the front doors looked tempting. And that part of your brain which always went seeking trouble, the part that always pushed you into doing bold things, that part made you move towards the doors.

Chances were that Bucky was watching, and you almost wanted him to see. To see that you couldn’t be kept here. So you went for it. You waited for some kind of alarm to go off as you turned the door knob and pulled open the door, stepping a foot out and then the other. But no alarm came.

The fog messed with your vision, you couldn’t see further than the white marble steps. It was cold and you had no extra layers on. This was stupid. And yet, you took a few more steps down the marble stairs which led to what you assumed would be the front yard.

You were about five steps down before you stopped. There was the silhouette of a male figure standing at the bottom of the stairs, engulfed by the fog. The moonlight made him look like a dark villain. Yet the shiny metal arm gave him away. “I thought you said I could walk away.” You tested the waters.

“I did say you could.” He took a step up the stairs, “I didn’t say I would let you get too far.”

You scoffed, trying your hardest to hide how you shivered in the cold night. The fog was all around you by now. All you could see was the faint outline of Bucky and the white stairs.

“Get back inside,” He ordered. “It’s cold out.”

“I won’t let you make a prisoner out of me.”

“That’s not my goal here.” He sounded reassuring.

“Then let me go.”

“You know I can’t do that, doll.” He took another step, getting closer. You could tell by his stance that he was ready for it, should you want to fight your way out of here.

And you did. You went for it.

First a punch, then a kick. It was hard to keep your balance on marble stairs, but you did your best, just like when you two used to spar while training.

You gave it your all, you tried your hardest to get him off his feet and on the ground and possibly make a run for it, but he anticipated each punch, each kick. You put up a decent fight for a few minutes, grunting at each failed punch and kick.

“I don’t want to hurt you!” He growled, blocking yet another one of your punches.

You didn’t stop, you kept trying until it hurt. Until he managed to have you pinned to the ground, your back hurting against the marble stairs, metal hand around your throat, his muscular body straddling yours right there on the cool marble stairs, the edge of the steps digging into your skin, making you hiss in pain.

“Let go!” You spat bitterly at him, looking up and finding him glaring down at you. His breath fogged against the cold air.

Bucky chuckled. “You forgot you trained you, doll? Hmm? You forgot who taught you everything you know about combat?” Bucky smirked as he leaned down. His face was directly above yours, his nose touching yours. “Do you know how many times I’ve had to walk away all hard after sparring with you?” He leaned just a little closer so his mouth hovered over yours. “It turned you on too, didn’t it? I could smell it then. And I can smell it now.”

That did it. You managed to find enough energy to push him off of you, you were on him the moment his body hit the marble floor, straddling him and pinning him to the ground by the throat just like he did you. You could tell the edges of the stairs were digging into his back too by the way he hissed. But you didn’t let go.

“Enough.” You tightened your grip around his throat. “I won’t play this little game with you.” You breathed heavily, exhausted by now, “You want to stay here and pretend to be some tortured, gothic lord of the manor? Fine! Go ahead. But let me go.”

“You don’t want to go.” He whispered, confidently. He just laid there, under you. Arms limp by his sides even though you knew too well that he could flip you around at any moment he wanted.

“Oh yeah? Is that what you think?”

He smirked. It annoyed you how handsome he was. “I know. If you so desperately wanted to get out of here then by now you would’ve used the knife you snuck into your pocket from the dinner table.” He chuckled. “Can’t do it, can you?”

Damn him. And here you thought you were being slick. You didn’t realise his hands had moved, no longer limp on his sides but now on your legs, fingers reaching for the crease of your thighs, rubbing your skin through the thin PJ pants you wore.

You gasped when his metal hand found its way between your parted legs, caressing you through the layers of clothing you wore. “Don’t you see?” He said, cold fingers moving along your waistband, “I’m doing this for us.” His fingers slipped into your pants, making you gasp even louder as you felt him touching you.

Your face burned as you thought about how many times you’d dreamt of this moment. How many times had you pretended it was his hand touching you. But it was never in these circumstances. Never had you thought it would happen on marble stairs, surrounded by dense fog, in some mysterious manor.

“Bucky,” You whispered, feeling his fingers slowly separating your wet folds, inspecting your slit before he slid one, then a second metal finger into you.

“Yes, baby?” His other hand wandered all over your body as you straddled him, reaching up to cup your face. His thumb traced the shape of your mouth while his two metal fingers slid so perfectly in and out of you, making you ride his fingers just briefly to chase the feeling of them against you. “Doesn’t it feel good? Hmm?” He thrust his fingers deeper into you, his metal thumb gently rubbing your clit, “Does it feel better than your fantasies?”

Damn him.

You couldn’t help but grind against his hand, wanting more and more. You didn’t care about anything right now, all that mattered was how good it felt. How much, much better than your fantasies it was. But you wouldn’t tell him all that.

He didn’t need to be told. He could see it. The way you moved your hips, the way you bit your lower lip to hold back your moans and whimpers, the way you clenched around his fingers. “Come for me, doll.” He whispered, feeling your grip loosen around his throat. “Come all over my fingers like a good girl.”

You hated how quickly you came, grinding against his hand and riding his fingers like a desperate woman. The cold, the fog, your knees digging into the hard marble, none of it mattered as you came, panting and trying your hardest to catch your breath.

“We should head back inside,” He said, catching you just in time as you were about to collapse on top of the stairs, cradling you carefully. “Don’t want you to catch a cold.”

—

Two days later, Bucky asked you during breakfast if you wanted to see the walled garden.

The two of you hadn’t talked much these past two days. You only saw Bucky at meal times, and kept to yourself mostly. The weather had been mostly rainy as well, even thunderstorms at night. It suited the foggy environment really well.

Neither you nor Bucky brought up that night you two fucked. You crossed paths with him these past two days in the dining room, the hallways, and the main living room, but you didn’t say a word to each other. It was painfully awkward.

You didn’t hate what happened. You just didn’t understand. You didn’t understand him, nor this situation. None of it. How can Bucky just switch like that? How did he manage to hide all this? What else could he be hiding?

And this morning, now that the rain had temporarily disappeared and a soft sun was shining, when he offered to show you around the walled garden, it felt like he was extending a peaceful hand. So you agreed immediately. You could use some fresh air. Plus, you figured, you and Bucky would have to talk at some point.

So by mid-morning, you followed him out into the yard. The walled garden was closeby, and it was one of the most beautiful things you’d ever seen. It was huge. The landscaping was incredible, you could tell a lot of care went into it.

This is...," You couldn’t come up with the right words.

There was a pond in the middle. The four stone walls were covered with vines and the tiniest little flowers. The entrance was a moon gate, the entire thing was filled with brick pathways, a small section was dedicated to herbs, but most of the space was occupied by well trimmed hedges and bushes.

"Beautiful, isn’t it?" He looked around, as if trying to see what it looks like from the eyes of someone seeing it for the first time. "I spend a lot of my time here." He sounded so calm as he said it. Like it brought him genuine happiness.

"It's so peaceful here."

You could hear the birds in the nearby trees. You could feel the breeze. The sweet smell of the flowers and slightly stronger scent of the herbs. The cool, damp ground while the smell of the rain lingered. The lush green vines surrounding the walls of the garden. It was more peaceful than it was breathtakingly beautiful.

Its owner looked no less breathtaking. Dressed in simple dark trousers and a dark green sweater, he looked every bit the master of these grounds. He looked so different now, compared to the Bucky you used to know.

"We should talk, Buck." You looked down, playing with the fabric of your soft sweater.

"Yes," He agreed. "You've been ignoring me." He accused.

You couldn’t look up at him, not even when he stepped closer. “Not ignoring you, I just… it’s hard to understand you, Bucky.” You explained. “One moment you were someone I knew for years, a constant in my life and now you’re… I don’t know this new you.”

He remained quiet, listening.

You continued. “Plus you talk about us living here like it was the plan all along.”

“Wasn’t it?” He said, clenching his jaw then unclenching it. You hated how much you liked that. “Finding peace and a home. Wasn’t that the end goal? Or did you plan to sacrifice yourself in combat?”

“Our job is to fight, Buck. We–”

“Who said that?” He argued. “Haven’t we fought enough? Haven’t we given enough?”

You sighed, looking away at the pond like it would have some answers. Then you said, “We can’t just live out here, away from everyone, leave the world to burn and pretend that this isn’t selfish, Buck.”

Bucky shrugged, “Why? Nobody batted an eye when Stark did it.”

“It was different for him.” You said, taking a few steps to reach the nearest rose bush. It had no flowers but you admired it all the same. “He had a family, a kid. He was a married man.”

Bucky scoffed, “That’s it? That’s what it’ll take, then? I can marry you and give you a child.” He sounded partially playful. And it made you roll your eyes.

“Shut up, Buck.”

He chuckled. For a moment it sounded like the many bickerings you two always had as friends. For a moment all of this felt normal, comfortable.

But it couldn’t be, could it?

“You’re gonna have to let me go at some point.”

“No.” He answered, sounding sure of himself as he pulled you into his arms. “I won’t let you go back and fight till it kills you. All so you can protect a world or its people who won’t even care that you died for them.”

“That’s not your choice to make.” You looked up at him, unable to help yourself as you looked down at his soft lips, wondering what they tasted like.

“It is.” He argued, leaning in so his mouth brushed against yours. “We could live normal lives, away from all that. Just you and me. We could travel, see whatever little beauty is left in this world. And just be free. Be us.”

You pushed him away even though all you wanted was to be close to him. “And then what?” You asked, “We’ll be together forever? I have a couple more decades at best. I’m human, remember that.”

He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets and said, “You could change that.”

You frowned. “What does that mean?”

Nothing could’ve prepared you for what he said next. “I have vials of the serum used on me. Not all of it was destroyed over the years.” He sent a curious look your way. “Maybe if you–,”

You shook your head, rushing past him and almost running back into the house. “You’re insane, Bucky Barnes!”

Bucky ran after you, “Wait, I didn’t mean it like that, baby. I didn’t mean right now!”

“No!” You stopped and turned to face him, pointing a finger at his face. “After all that you told me the other night, about being trapped in an alien body and all, now you suggest that you’ll have me take the serum just so you can live out this sick, twisted fantasy you created of us in your head?”

Bucky stepped closer to you, reaching out with his metal arm and pulling you closer to him. “I’m saying you’d have the choice. I would never force you. And you know that.”

You were quiet for a moment, breathing heavily as you stared into his deep blue eyes. You didn’t know why, maybe it was the stress of these past few days and this conversation you two had just had, but your eyes burned as you began tearing up. “What happened to you, Buck?” Your voice cracked as you asked.

You closed your eyes, letting the tears fall down your cheeks. You felt his face getting closer and closer until he pressed his forehead against yours, both his arms circling around you.

“I’m sorry,” He said, “I shouldn’t have said that. I… I don’t know how to keep you close to me.”

You didn’t say anything. You just let him hold you, while you felt that inner turmoil growing.

—

You ignored Bucky again for the next week or so. You stopped showing up to join him for meals, so he resorted to having your food sent up to your room for you. In that week of silent treatment, you’d began talking to the lovely ladies who worked in his home.

The oldest of the two was the most affectionate, and she always brought you extra servings of your favourite desserts. Which you had been ignoring.

One night as she brought your dinner in she said, “He hasn’t been eating well either, you know?”

You pretended you didn’t care. So you didn’t say anything.

The kind lady spoke again, “He’s not bad at heart.”

You couldn’t help but ask, “How long have you known him?”

She smiled fondly, “Decades. I came looking for work when the house was being built. I’m from the nearby town, you see? And my family… Well, they disowned me after I had a child out of wedlock. I had nowhere to go. But James took me in.” She chuckled, “Of course, I’ve grown old since.”

But he remained the same.

She continued, “He’s always been kind. A little cold, maybe. But he’s kind.” She paused and added, “And he’s lonely. He’s trapped, you see? In a world he should’ve never been in. Companionship, perhaps, would make this a little more bearable for him.”

“It’s not so easy to give up what he’s asking me to. He’s asking me to give up everything, to leave it all behind.” Granted there wasn’t much to leave in the first place. You had no family, and the only friends you had were the ones you fought alongside with.

She carefully reached out and touched your cheek. The warmth of her hand made you smile faintly. “We all make sacrifices for love, don’t we?”

You sighed, “I think he’s hurt, and confused.”

She laughed quietly, “Oh James is many things, confused isn’t one of them.”

You frowned. “Do you not see that he’s wrong?” You sounded unsure of yourself for a moment there.

“For choosing to live his life how he wants to? For wanting a better life for you? No.”

Fine then. “What about how he’s keeping me here?”

She smiled again. “You know, he always talks about you since the day you two first met years ago. And he always told me how brilliant you were, how strong and brave you were in combat. How well you did in training and how easily you took down men twice the size of you.” She smiled proudly, even though she’d just met you. “And you know what I think?” She paused, “I think if you really wanted to leave, you would’ve fought your way out of here already.” Then before she left your bedroom she added, “Don’t underestimate how much that man loves you.”

You didn’t sleep all night because you kept replaying that conversation in your head. Over and over again. Were you here, truly, on your own volition after all? Did you subconsciously want this over the violence?

—

The next morning, Bucky was surprised to find you making your way into his library. He watched quietly how you paused at the doorway, wide-eyed and startled.

“You have a library.”

It sounded less awe-struck and more like an accusation. Like how dare he have a whole ass library and not show it to you earlier? Bucky saw a glimpse of the normal you, and he couldn’t help but smile. This was a gift after a whole week of you ignoring him and him pretending like he wasn’t walking around sulking. “Did you lose your way or did you mean to ruin your streak of giving me the silent treatment?”

He smirked when you glared at him.

Damn, his smirk. The way it lit up his handsome face… it had been too long since you’d come. And given he had admitted to having heard you masturbate before, you didn’t dare do it under his own roof. So it was safe to say that you were, maybe, just a little touch-starved and needy.

And him looking this good early in the morning was not helping. Tight black t-shirt, and soft, grey PJ pants. How dare he look this good while you were barely able to make sense of all that was happening?

“We should talk. Properly. No fighting, no arguing.” You said.

Bucky nodded, leaning against a nearby bookshelf. “What about?”

You took a deep breath, “I think I know why I haven’t fought my way out of here yet. Because let’s face it, I could kick your ass if I really wanted to.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

You took a few steps around the room, eyeing the many shelves. It was a grand, two-level library. With ornate metal stairs that led to the top level. It would take a couple of lifetimes to read all the books here. Or maybe just one long super soldier lifetime.

“Because I’m curious.” You admitted. “You were simply my friend before. But–”

He added pompously, “One you have a crush on.”

You ignored that, for now. “But now you’re… someone I don’t know. It’s hard to– it feels different. You feel different. And I can’t help it, but I want to know more. About this life you’re choosing to live. How is it so easy for you to make that choice without any guilt? I want to know.”

Bucky took a moment to process, then asked, “Are you giving me a chance?”

“I’m tired of being angry at you for kidnapping me.” You said, sighing. He opened his mouth to argue but you raised a hand to stop him. “I don’t agree with the way you did things, how you’re keeping me here, but I… I miss you, Buck. I miss us.”

Well, since you were having an honest conversation, Bucky felt comfortable to ask, “Do you still like me?” There was a rare vulnerability in his tone.

You allowed yourself to take a step closer to the shelf he was leaning against. Inching closer to him you murmured, “I would’ve stabbed you that very first night if I didn’t.”

He smiled. You smiled back.

—

Things were gradually getting back to normal after that. Well, about as normal as things can get when you’re forbidden from leaving the grounds of your friend’s manor.

You’d missed your usual morning runs, so you resumed going on runs in the mornings. The grounds were more vast than you thought, it took you days to finally map out the entire place. All except the maze. You always ran by it, or around it, never daring to go inside it. Not yet.

After your runs, and a quick shower, you’d always join Bucky for breakfast. Over time, you learned so much about him and the life he had here. It wasn’t just this magnificent home he owned, but numerous farms and multiple businesses in the small town nearby.

Your ‘relationship’ with him changed as well. While the two of you didn’t have sex again, the tension was beginning to get too much to ignore. Quick kisses in the mornings, and lingering kisses at night. Oftentimes you were tempted to ask Bucky to spend the night with you, but you thought it’d be best to wait. After all, this was all so new.

For the first time in years, you were actually contemplating leaving the ‘superhero’ duties behind and choosing yourself. It was hard not to constantly taste the guilt whenever you found yourself so close to giving into Bucky, and choosing what he was offering.

—

“Do you really have the serum?”

You asked one morning, while the two of you chose to have breakfast in the library. It was a rainy morning, and the library had massive windows so Bucky suggested you spend the morning there, knowing how much you liked it when it rained.

You agreed. Who would say no to breakfast, good books, and a rainy morning?

Then you got curious, and asked about the serum.

Bucky nodded. “I managed to get my hands on a few vials.”

Your eyes widened. “A few? How the hell did you do that?”

Bucky had a humourless smile on his face. “They tended to give me some freedom whenever I took part in their…more peculiar experiments.”

You were quick to say, “We don’t have to talk about it if–,”

He cut you off and explained nonetheless, “They were trying to see if they could create a new generation of super soldiers naturally.”

You wanted so much to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Not out of pity, no. Just to remind him of how strong he is and how far he’s come. How he didn’t deserve all that he went through.

“I had the chance, and I just took some of the vials and hid them out here.”

“Can I ask why?”

He kept that same humourless smile. “Out of desperation I guess. I secretly hoped that one day someone might want to be with me. And if needed, I could keep them with me for longer than their human life would naturally allow.”

“Oh, Buck.”

You couldn’t help yourself then. You stood up, walked around the small coffee table and sat on the arm of the sofa Bucky was currently sat on. Behind him, rain hit the window mercilessly as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling him into you.

He leaned into the hug for a moment, before pulling onto his lap then properly hugging you. He shoved his face into your neck, just breathing. His arms around you were not letting you go anytime soon.

“I need you.” He murmured against your neck, beginning to lightly kiss your skin. “Please,” He whispered.

The desire in his voice couldn’t go unnoticed, and you were barely able to hold back either so you quickly straddled him properly. Thankfully the dress you’d chosen for today allowed you to move comfortably.

Bucky hands were eager, touching you everywhere he could, greedy for more. He grabbed you by the hips and pressed you down, onto his prominent erection. He watched how you whimpered, how your hands found themselves under the tight fabric of his shirt, pressing against his chest, feeling him.

Bucky smirked when he felt your hands moving down his chest, further down until you were rapidly undoing his pants and freeing his throbbing cock. He caught the way you whimpered under your breath at the sight of him, then you went on to wrap your hand around him, slowly stroking him, making him throw his head back and groan under his breath. “Fuck, that feels good, baby. That’s it, keep going.”

You leaned in close to him again, “I want you,” you whispered against his lips and then pressed your mouth to his. You slipped your tongue past his lips and slowly stroked the top of his mouth, unable to pretend any longer.

He growled into your mouth, into the kiss as his hands rubbed up and down your sides lovingly. “Take me then. I’m all yours.”

You didn’t waste any more time. You pulled away from the kiss briefly, lifting your lower body off his. Bucky helped by pulling your thin underwear to the side – both too impatient to properly take your clothes off – and he watched how you slowly lowered yourself down on his cock.

Your body resisted just a little to fit him inside, but then he pulled you down till you sank down on him completely, both of you moaning at the feeling.

Bucky grabbed your hips in place and gently thrust his hips up and you moaned wantonly as you felt him fill you up. “Fuck, baby… such a good girl for me.”

You whimpered as the tip of his cock reached sensitive places you never knew existed. You took a good look at the man beneath you. He was beyond beautiful. Lips parted, breathing heavily. It gave you a warm rush to see him this worked up knowing you were the reason why.

You moved faster then, impaling yourself down on his cock. You whimpered shamelessly as you felt him filling you up completely each time, feeling him reach deeper into you with each thrust. His metal hand slipped between the two of you and found your clit, he rubbed it lazily.

“This little cunt was made for me, wasn’t it?” He groaned, looking up to watch how you frowned in pleasure. “All for me…”

You leaned down to kiss him, biting down and tugging at his bottom lip while you sped up, and his cock stretched you out each time he filled you up. “You feel so good,” You mumbled.

Bucky pulled your warm body closer to his. Your lips brushed against his each time you moved up and down his cock. “You’re mine.” He said. “You hear me?”

You nodded, feeling him stretch you out as you stared into his eyes. Bucky held you at your waist and rhythmically thrust his hips up each time to match your movements. Brows furrowing and panting while you rode his cock.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He panted against your cheek, kissing the side of your face and gripping your jaw with his hand. “Tell me you’re mine to fuck, to love, and care for. Tell me.”

“All yours…” You didn’t slow down as you felt your orgasm wash over you, and he kept thrusting his hips up into you as your eyes rolled back and you moaned out loud as you came, hard, feeling your walls squeezing and clenching around him as you came undone. You panted and leaned forward, pushing your face into his neck to catch your breath.

Bucky came right after you, his warm load spilling inside of you, filling you up as he wrapped his arms around you and pressed your trembling body closer to him.

You laid your head on his shoulder, catching your breath, as you thought of a lot of things. The main one being, you didn’t hate this at all. You wouldn’t mind if this was your daily life. Maybe it was the post-sex brain but, this felt so right and you didn’t ever want to leave this moment.

—

It was hard keeping your hands to yourselves for the following days. You and Bucky began sleeping in the same bed.

On days when the weather was good, Bucky would take you out and show you around the little town. It was cosy and perfect, and had the best bakeries in the world. Then he would take you to the many farms he owned, and you saw genuine happiness on his face. Like this calm life was indeed all he wanted.

And time just flew by. You no longer kept track of days.

One evening, Bucky asked, “Have you been in the maze yet?”

You linked your elbow to his as the two of you made your way downstairs, and said, “Not yet. It looks… I don’t know, intimidating. And it’s huge, I worry I’ll get lost.”

Bucky chuckled. “Want me to take you?”

“Right now? But it’s getting dark.”

“Come,” He led you to the front door, crossing the foyer, “It’s prettier at night anyway.”

It was dark out, but there were golden lights placed all around the tall hedge maze. It wasn’t too lit up but just enough to create the right ambiance and allow one to roam around comfortably. It was colder inside, you realised as you held onto Bucky’s hand and let him guide you deeper and deeper inside.

The fog was beginning to float around, settling just above the ground the deeper you went inside the maze. You shivered, despite the coat Bucky insisted you wore before stepping out of the house.

“Don’t be scared, baby.” Bucky reassured you as he wrapped his arm tighter around you. “I’m right here.”

The maze wasn’t creepy by any means. Like everything else on these grounds, it was hauntingly beautiful. Timeless. Like it knows too much, like it was alive and it remembered. It was inviting, even as you went deeper and deeper until you reached the middle. And faced the gigantic water fountain, in the middle of which, placed on a stone pedestal was the minotaur statue.

It felt alive too. Like he was waiting for a command to move.

The middle area was spacious, tidy and beautiful. With alcoves, benches, bird feeders, and brick pathways. And in the dark, with fog swirling around, it looked like a scene from a movie.

Bucky stood back and let you take it all in. He watched how you slowly walked around the fountain, admiring the intricate details, admiring the statue.

Then you asked, “Why the minotaur?” You stopped at the other side of the fountain, watching Bucky through the soft streams of water that fell.

Bucky smiled. “For dramatics, mostly. I like the myth.”

You chuckled. “I see.”

Bucky shoved his hands into his coat pockets and asked, “You ever wonder what truly happened to the maidens that were sent into the minotaur’s maze?”

“They were never seen again. He either ate or killed them according to the myths.” You answered.

He nodded, “Or maybe he didn’t hurt them. Maybe they just never wanted to leave.”

Ah. So he was speaking in riddles again. “Like how you don’t want me to ever leave?”

“You won’t.” He sounded too sure, yet again.

“You sound very sure.” You watched him carefully.

Bucky smiled, “You forget that I know you, doll. Better than you know yourself.” He paused, then added, “You find comfort in the darkness too.”

“Comfort?”

Bucky remained on the other side of the fountain as he spoke, the fog swirling around him almost like he ordered it to. “You think I don’t know you have trouble sleeping? That the nightmares bother you too? Of all the missions we’ve been on, the people we’ve had to kill for some greater good? Cities we demolished? Houses and families we tore apart? All in the name of being altruistic heroes?”

Suddenly you had trouble breathing.

Bucky continued, this time walking around the fountain and slowly getting closer to you, “That’s why you like running, isn’t it? You pretend you’re running from it all. You pretend you’re free. That you can finally escape it all and put an end to it. You run till your legs get numb, till your lungs burn. Till each breath hurts. So it can finally feel like well-deserved punishment.”

“Stop.” You audibly gasped for air this time, as your eyes began watering. You no longer felt the cold. No longer felt the dampness of the fog. Nothing, but the ache in your chest.

“I’ve been there, doll. No matter what you do, it doesn’t go away. The guilt doesn’t go away. Not until you stop and walk away from that life.”

“Bucky, please…” You turned around, not able to face him anymore as the tears fell down your cheeks. You heard him getting closer. You felt his warmth against your back as he placed his arms around you, pulling you in.

“Maybe that’s why the maidens never left the maze.” He said. “Maybe they realised that his darkness was better than the cruel world who reduced their pure hearts and souls to being mere sacrifices.”

The night had gotten colder somehow. The wind had picked up, like it was about to rain. The fog clinging to the hedges was thicker now.

“Stay with me.” He whispered into your ear. “It’s chaos out there. Stay here with me.”

You sniffled quietly. “I’m scared, Buck.”

The rain came then. Light drizzle, then slowly getting heavier. Bucky pulled you to the nearest alcove and kept you safe and warm between the stone wall and his muscular body, sheltering you from the rain.

“I’m here.” He reassured you.

“I’m scared.” You repeated, holding onto him like he was the only thing you’d ever hold.

Bucky pressed his lips against your forehead, “I know, baby. I know.” He murmured. “But I see you. You'll never have to pretend with me. I know you’re tired, of fighting, of being good and getting nothing in return. It’s okay to stop, baby. We’ll never have to fight or kill again.” He sounded hopeful. “We’ll be happy here.” So hopeful, and pure that it hurt. “I’m here, doll. It’s okay.”

You couldn’t help but kiss him. Bucky kissed you back ferociously, like he’d held back all those times before, but now he no longer could. His hands wandered, pulling your dress up quickly as he knelt in front of you before you could even process it.

He pressed his lips to your inner thighs, kissing you wherever he could as his fingers lowered your underwear down to your ankles. You stepped out of it as his mouth got closer and closer to your dripping core.

“Bucky…” You sighed, as you felt his breath against your wet folds. You couldn’t help but slide your fingers into his soft hair, as he brought his mouth over to your clit, sucking on it hard enough to make you squirm in pleasure, your back digging into the stone wall of the alcove.

His tongue slid up and down your folds, teasing your entrance, occasionally flicking your clit. “So fucking good,” He whispered, hands caressing and groping your thighs as he ate you out. His tongue slowly circled your throbbing clit.

He parted your legs further as he slowly brought a metal finger up to your clit, watching it sliding agonisingly slowly down your slit, parting your wet folds.

You shivered under his cold touch, then bit your lip to refrain from moaning too loudly. You sighed, then gasped audibly as he slid a metal finger inside you, stroking your walls gently while he placed his mouth back on your clit. “Please…” You begged, wanting more.

Lips brushing against your wetness he asked, “Will you promise to stay here with me? Forever?” He growled as you kept whining and squirming under his addicting touch, “Answer me.”

“Yes…” You whispered, breathless and wanting. “Yes, I will.” You moaned.

He smirked against your wet skin before standing back up, enjoying the way you whined in protest. “You’re mine.” He said.

You whined again, “Bucky, please…”

He chuckled and undid his pants before picking you up and kissing you deeply as he pinned you to the wall. Your legs wrapped around his waist and his cock briefly brushed against your wet folds, making you shiver at the brief contact.

You couldn’t take the teasing anymore. Moaning into the kiss you said, “Bucky please,” You begged, “I need you. I need you… please.” You whispered.

Bucky kissed down your neck, peppering it with kisses as he aligned his throbbing tip with your entrance. Slowly, he pushed himself into you. His fingers digging into your skin as he held you by your hips, and yours holding on to his shoulders as he filled you up nicely.

“This is all you wanted? Hmm?” He groaned, moving just the slightest bit. “You’re so perfect, baby.”

He held you up against him as he sped up into you. He dipped his head into the crook of your neck and mumbled, “You’ll always be mine.” He growled, “And we’ll be happy forever here.”

Behind him, just beyond the shelter of the alcove, the rain was getting heavier. Louder. But with your heartbeats echoing in your ears you could barely focus on it.

You whined just a little louder this time and his mouth soon found yours again. He nibbled on your bottom lip and you let out shaky breaths as he kept fucking into you relentlessly, earning more and more moans out of you each time his cock stroked your walls perfectly.

Bucky nibbled on the skin under your ear and you lost it. Your thoughts became cloudy and all you could focus on was his body and his cock inside of you.

You whimpered, “Can I please come?”

“Go on, baby.” He mumbled softly against your skin while he fucked you like an animal, “Come all over my cock,” He spoke, fucking you harder and deeper.

Your throbbing clit rubbed against his pelvic bone each time he buried himself completely in you and it was hard to even think coherently.

He quickened his pace, whispering, “Mine… ” in your ear as he pounded into you as fast as he could, your back slamming into the stone wall with each thrust.

You could hear the sounds of your skin slapping against each other over the heavy rain. Your legs started to shake around him as he quickened his pace, now pounding into you mercilessly.

“Come for me, doll.”

You couldn’t hold back anymore. So, you came undone around his cock, whining and whimpering. Walls clenching around him, nails scratching down his neck and a strained moan escaping your mouth as you came hard. More tears streaming down your face.

He came right after you did, cock throbbing against your pulsating walls, moaning into your ear when he felt your walls clenching violently around him.

He didn’t pull out immediately. He just kept his cock carefully buried in you. He relished your warmth and leaned in to kiss you again, passionately, much more gentle than before. “I’ve got you,” He murmured. “You’re safe with me.”

The epiphany of it all made you unable to stand on your two feet for too long. You briefly remembered Bucky carrying you all the way out of the maze, into the house and up the stairs.

You fully came back to your own body only after Bucky had submerged you in a warm bath. With him seated behind you and caressing your spent body.

“Are you okay, doll?”

You nodded, sitting with your back to his chest. “I’m okay.” You whispered.

Bucky’s hand rubbed your back in a soothing way that had you sighing in bliss. Then he said, “I’ll take you somewhere nice tomorrow.”

You smiled with your eyes closed, leaning into his touch. “Where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“How many more secrets have you kept from me?”

He chuckled. “Enough that it would take you a lifetime to uncover them all.”

“You have a lot of faith in the durability of this relationship.” You teased.

“Hmm, I do.” He sighed as he left soft kisses all over the side of your face. Outside the rain was getting harsh and loud again. But here, everything was warm and perfect. “You can’t run from me.” He teased.

Couldn’t you? You sighed. Did you even want to anymore?

Maybe you would end up finding comfort in the darkness with him. In the familiarity of his arms. In the warmth of his touch and smiles. Hell, maybe you’d be willing to take the serum one day. But all that for later, being here was all that mattered right now.

You leaned your head back onto his shoulder, back pressing against his chest as you let him hold you.

A lifetime… yeah that didn’t sound too bad.

Bucky kissed your forehead as you leaned your head back, resting it on his shoulder. Safe, satisfied, and in his arms. He often dreamed of this. He kissed your forehead again as he smiled. He knew what you must be thinking about. He could almost hear it.

He knew you were having a slight hard time accepting all this, choosing it. The guilt would go away in time. He would do whatever it takes to help you adjust to your new life. And everything would be perfect then.

There was a small voice in his head that told him that he shouldn’t ignore the possibility that this could be a ruse. That you were playing along, trying to earn his trust, waiting for him to have his guard down so you could run from here.

Bucky smirked as he leaned his head back against the edge of the tub, his arms firm around you as you both soaked in the last few moments of the warm water before it got cold.

He wasn’t stupid, and you were a very smart woman, so of course he’d thought about that possibility. And though he knew the chances of this being true were very slim, he couldn’t just sit and wait. Could he? That’s why he took all the precautions he could beforehand.

He made sure, even if you were to leave him and run back to what used to be your ‘normal’ lives, that there was nothing left for you to go back to.

There was no one left. Another secret of his, tucked away.

But he would always be here for you. Bucky turned his head and kissed your forehead again. He vowed to love you enough that, like the maidens in the myths, you’d never want to leave his maze either.

Fin.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes au #bucky x reader #bucky barnes smut #marvel #avenger!reader

937 notes · View notes

spiderlyla · 8 months

Text

Irrational — Miguel O'Hara

synopsis: miguel finally mans up to ask you out—only for a misunderstanding to insue.

tags: eventual fluff, alchemax scientist!miguel × co-worker!reader, jealousy, misunderstandings, reader's gender is not mentioned (gn reader)

inspired by @general-dweebous 's idea.

Silent and cold. Two words that perfectly described the state of Miguel O'Hara's office. Two words that perfectly described the state he was in.

His eyes were transfixed on the box infront of him—or rather the two boxes infront of him. He'd brought extra food to share today, a habit he only picked up lately, mainly because he never had anyone to share food with until recently. The previously warm boxes were now stale and cold, and so were the empanada's inside of them. Doesn't matter. He lost his appetite, and you weren't going to have lunch with him.

He just sat in his chair. Fingernails—or maybe talons, he was unsure— digging into his palm to the point where little scars formed. His thoughs were all mangled up, as he failed to distract himself from the little interaction that led him to be sitting here in the first place.

It was suppose to go so well. He'd even rehearsed it all the night before.

You'd come up to him at his station just before lunch break with ten minutes, asking him if he'd like to sit with you— you did, he agreed.

The two of you would walk to the cafeteria, you'd tell him all about your incompetent co-workers trying to sound as nice as you could, it was sweet, but he was blunt, rephrasing your words to make it sound meaner than what you probably intended. You would laugh. He would laugh—He did laugh. He noticed that you didn't have the little tupperwear box you get everyday in your hands, maybe you were in a rush? No problem, he already had your share of food ready.

You'd sit at your usual table, you did.

You'd ask him what he's eating, he told you.

It was then he would push the small box towards you, telling you he got you one too. You'd take it and take a bite, and you'd compliment the taste of it, probably asking where he got them. He'd tell you he made them. And he did. He woke up extra early this morning just to make these. You'd probably say how much of an excellent cook he is, and that's when he'd do it. He'd ask if you'd like to come later today for dinner at his. He'd be delighted to cook for you.

That's how it was suppose to go, and he hoped you'd agree—he spent hours telling himself that you would agree just to encourage himself to finally get to do this.

But when he tried to proceed with his plan, everything he'd built up came crashing down on him.

He was about to push the box towards you when a man approached your table. He was unfamiliar to Miguel, he didn't work there, that was apparent by his casual sport attire. He tapped your shoulder and you stood up when you saw him, the look of surprise on your face quickly replaced with an affectionate one.

"Hey, what are you doing here?" The guy held up a box—your box. "You forgot to pack lunch this morning, packed it for you and thought I'd drop it off." He handed you the box with a grin, and when Miguel looked back at you, you had the widest, prettiest smile he'd ever seen.

Packed it for you? You live with this guy? But he remembers the time you invited him to that party you threw during New Year's, there was no indication you lived with someone—let alone another man.

"That's so sweet, Ned, thank you." You tip-toed and gave him a kiss on the cheek. A kiss on his cheek, your hand on his shoulder. A harsh sensation, undescribable, clawed at Miguel's racing heart.

"Don't mention it—Sorry to intruppt your talk though!" The man—Ned's eyes fell upon Miguel, who was looking at his lap, fiddling with his watch. Trying to rationalise this, never reaching a rational conclusion. "You must be Miguel O'Hara right? I hear alot about you—I mean, alot."

"Ned, don't—" You laughed, putting your hands on his chest as to push him away a little. "He's just embaressing me—Ignore him—" Ned laughed too, putting his hands on yours to prevent you.

"I am Miguel, yes." His voice was hoarse, gruff, it was a miracle anything came out at all with that lump he felt in his throat, suffocating the everloving fuck out of him. "If—If you'll excuse me." He got up, picking up his boxes, and immediately heading to the door.

You didn't even come after him, too occupied with laughing to even notice he was gone.

And here he was, sitting all alone, eyes shut as he tried not to remember the scene of your lips on another man's skin. He grunted, hands tangled in his thick black hair.

"Maybe it's not what it seems," A familiar golden glow appeared by his shoulder. "Maybe you misread the situation—"

"There is nothing here to misread, LYLA." He replied sharply. It was unlike him to not try to even make sense of a situation, but what is there to rationalise? You lived with this guy. He packed you lunch because you forgot it and came all the way to Alchemax's headquarters—which by the way, were on the outskirts of Nueva York—just to give it to you.

How stupid of him to think you'd stay single until he gets the courage to ask you out. How foolish of him to think it was a good idea to get his hopes up for once. How incredibly dumb of him to think this would go in his favor, because when did it ever.

"We don't even know who that is! It could be a friend—"

"LYLA, stop." His head snapped towards the floating hologram of his assistant, "You're the one who encouraged me to do this, and it failed before I even got the chance to try. I am not about to make scenarios up just to be let down again."

She ignored him, of course she did. "—I could always do a quick search. I'm sure I can find out who that is—"

"No," His refusal was immediate. Of course, curiosity and jealousy were eating him from the inside, but with you, he wanted to do this right. He would never breach your privacy like he would any other person. "Enough. We're not discussing this anymore." Miguel tapped his gizmo, and LYLA's hologram immediately dissappeared with a loud protest.

The office was queit again, Miguel wondered if you truly hadn't noticed that he was gone at all. Maybe you did notice and were relieved that he was.

Did he truly misread the situation? Or did he misread what he thought the two of you shared?

The brushing of hands when you walked next to each other, the sweet smile you flashed him everytime you saw him, the way you were so touchy around him, always hugging him and putting your hand on his shoulder to comfort him, the way you caught his stare whenever the two of you were in the same lab, that shy smile that would appear on your face and your reddened cheeks.

Was it just him interpreting it all wrong?

His thoughts were quickly intrupted by a cheery knock on his door, a pattern he knew all too well. Just before he could reply, the door swung open, with you waltzing into his office like you always do.

"Hey, I was looking for you everywhere!" Miguel grunted, shuffling with some paper on his desk to make himself look busy. "You went running off—"

"I have work to do." He replied dryly, not raising his head from the seemingly empty papers. You stopped by the door, and he was sure if he looked up, he'd see that cute pout of yours.

"You're not having lunch?" Miguel glanced at the two boxes he set aside and shook his head. "No, you should though."

"Who am I suppose to have lunch with then?"

"Your boyfriend isn't going to keep you company?" He looked up, anticipating your reaction. Your face contorted between confusion and absolute shock, then your eyes lit up. A wide grin made its way onto your lips, and you took a few steps towards Miguel's desk.

"Ned's my brother." You chuckled, tilting your head. Miguel felt his neck and ears heat up. He could practically hear LYLA in his ears, teasing him endlessly about this. How would he even know? You never mentioned a brother.

"Oh, I thought...because he said you—I guess—"

"Are you nervous, Miguel O'Hara?" You teased, and he grunted, rolling his eyes. "Ned is always busy, and always out of the country, but he's on vacation and currently living with me."

Of course, why didn't he think of that?

"Oh."

You giggled, fucking giggled at him. He was seething for the past 20 minutes, at the possibility that another man that wasn't him had you all to himself, only for it to turn out to be your brother.

"Not used to being wrong, huh?" You placed a hand on his fisted ones, and he immediately relaxed. "I rarely am."

"Awh, were you jealous, Miguel?" A scoff escaped his lips, he refused to let you tease him.

And you decided to play nice for once, deciding to let it go just to salvage his crumbling pride. "Anyways, those empanada's you were telling me about—"

"One of them is for you." He intruppted, "I...made it. In the morning. They're cold now."

"We could microwave them."

"Or you could come over and make a fresh batch with me." The words slipped off his tounge before he could think twice, something he often found himself doing whenever he was around you. He was about to apologise for being too bold, but then he looked at you.

With the prettiest smile and most bright eyes he'd ever seen, you nodded. "I'd love to."

Seems like his plan did work after all.

A little off, but still, it worked.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #astv #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv miguel #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o hara #spider man atsv #spiderman into the spiderverse #miguel fanfic #miguel o' hara #miguel o #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel x you #alchemax scientist miguel o'hara #alchemax

1K notes · View notes

peachie-bumblebee · 10 months

Text

THREESOME HEADCANONS WITH MONTGOMERY GATOR

NSFW MINORS DNI

for my partner whom i love more than anything and who requested more Monty content <3 come get your food babe

CW: JEALOUSY, MARKING, TOYS, FREE USE

SCENERIO- You (reader) and Montgomery Gator are in a relationship when he brings up the topic of a threesome with you. It’s dealers choice- he’ll share you with any of his fellow main stage animatronics.

IF YOU PICK:

FREDDY

Slow turn. Full stop.

“ w h a t . ”

he straight up doesn’t understand. not one bit. he’s also DEFINITELY not jealous (he 100% is) of Freddy. this totally doesn’t bring something out of him.

but seriously though. explain to him why you want Freddy Fazbitch inside of you.

what does Freddy have to bring to the table? he’s not gonna say no- you get to pick whoever, and that’s the deal

but WHY FREDDY?!?!?!?!

don’t count Freddy out though. he’d be taken aback by the request but after much thought and giving his answer, he’s ready to have a dick measuring (figuratively and literally) with Monty and he WILL prove to be competition.

If any returning people are reading this… Competition fic rewrite???

it’s happening in Monty’s room. not Freddy’s. you stay on his turf.

he will constantly try to outperform Freddy. he can’t help himself. he’s gotta prove why he’s the best out of the two of them.

they’re bickering the entire time they’re fucking you, but not in a way that isn’t hot. you’d be sandwiched between them as they say things to each other through gritted teeth, occasionally commenting on how the other should be treating you or touching you or anything.

they’ll only agree on one thing- how good you feel and how fucking hot you are.

Freddy’s NOT cumming inside. Oh no. don’t even think about it. he’d sooner maul him. and when his dick starts vibrating Monty almost goes “FOR FUCKS SAKE” right then and there and flips you over to fuck you into the ground. he doesn’t though. he shows restraint. be proud.

at the end of the day, Monty is gonna prove to Freddy why you’re his and only his. Freddy will leave after aftercare with Monty waving him goodbye with a cocky expression on his face.

but Freddy still knows it’s his claw marks on your hipbones underneath your clothes when you walk by.

CHICA

“Ohhhhkay?”

He wasn’t expecting that. he’s not mad about it but he’s not sure why exactly. out of everyone, he knows the least about Chica. he doesn’t know WHAT to expect.

but you know, at least it’s not Freddy.

when Chica gets the request she pretty much giggles and says “Sure! You’ve got a cute one, i’ve had my eye on them for a while!” which confuses him even more. eye??? on his partner??? wtf???? but now he’s kind of intrigued.

the day of, he’s CERTAINLY not expecting to show up with you to her room and for her to have a chest sitting on the floor. he’s straight up got whiplash when she starts talking about hard and soft limits and negotiations and whether or not you wanna use the sex swing.

she points up and he looks and sure enough- there’s the telltale two hooks bolted into her ceiling for her to string it up. he thinks he’s dreaming.

and THEN she opens the chest which has three unfolding layers and a bottom compartment and he thinks he’s hallucinating. she has 5 different flavors of lube. what the fuck.

the whole time he’s just hugely impressed by her. at one point he straight up starts laughing a little incredulously and goes “Yo Chica- where the fuck didja get all of this shit?” and she just winks at him.

kinda gets nervous when she pulls out the strap?? he starts competing a little bit with her until she looks up at him from under her eyelashes and tells him to cool it.

suddenly Chica is the only person to ever put him in his place besides you.

they both talk about how good you are with your mouth. Chica’s more of the praiser, but Monty’s fully agreeing with some meaner degradation thrown in there. Her degrading is said in the sweetest tone in the world, which gets a different reaction from you than his normally does.

so yes, she teaches him something.

after that, he and Chica are a lot closer than they used to be. they’re not exactly friends, but now they share passing knowing glances and there’s almost a sense of kinship between the two.

and maybe after a while, a note written in pink glitter gel pen that smells like cupcakes shows up on his desk with the question of “Round two?”

and who knows. maybe- just maybe- he feels like he wants to say yes.

ROXANNE

yep. that’s the answer he expected.

he’s cool and calm about this one. he and Roxy are close. they’re the two “new” ones. the original rockers. the ones with attitude. he’s seen the way Roxy’s eyes follow you every once in a while, and he’s not threatened by it.

when he brings it up, they’re both just casually hanging out during a moment of quiet at day. she laughs under her breath, looks at him, smiles, and tells him she’ll be ready whenever.

this is the pair that you’re most likely to get into a fun situation with. If any of y’all remember my fic Animalistic (also open to doing a rewrite) where they borrow Chica’s maze and hunt you down in the dark- it’s that type of shit.

she’ll come to y’all, or y’all will come to her. either way works. this is a meeting between friends.

he’s impressed that she can deliver the amount of intensity that he can. you’re certainly dealing with a lot, and they’re sure to make a comment on how well you handle it.

i think he’d make her watch for a little bit that first time. you’d feel her gaze on you from across the room- two natural predator animals watching you like you’re their next meal. she’ll enjoy the view and the lesson on what you like

they’ll help each other out with pleasing you. if Monty’s inside, Roxy might reach over and put pressure on your lower stomach for him. if Roxanne is putting pressure on your chest with her claws, Monty is behind you running his hands down your ass.

it’s a collaborative effort.

out of all these pairings this is the only one where i can see them doing things to each other. it’s in a very casual way- and no way is Roxanne gonna suck his cock. she especially refuses to get on her knees for him. but he might pinch at her nipple piercings, and she might reach over and give his dick a few strokes.

they might even toss you around a little between them. in the future he might offer you as some stress relief while they hang out. it wouldn’t be a big deal for her to tune her guitar in on the same couch as him while you give him head, or for him to be doing his hair while she fucks your mouth. you’ll get your reward for being good in the end.

it won’t be discussed between the two of them outside of the request and event itself. they’ll perform side by side the same way they always have- and Monty will go to Gator Golf and Roxanne will go racing, and they’ll catch a break in the same unused room every once in a while.

but every so often, he’ll let her know she can stop by.

and you bet your ass she will.

I HOPED YALL ENJOYED THE MONTY CONTENT! as always, reblog with comments, request, and let me know what you thought below <3

1K notes · View notes

charliemwrites · 4 months

Text

Uhhh this is sort of to get me back in the swing of writing since some people may have noticed I haven’t done much this week. It’s… it’s been a week, but that’s fine, those happen.

Anyway, concept comes from @ceilidho’s concept/drabble of “military asset Soap” and heavily inspired also by @391780’s Nikto version. Please go check out theirs because they’re brilliantly written.

(There will be a part 2 because this got longer than expected.)

Content: Verbal Threats, Dirty Talk, Objectification, Dub-Con, Name-calling. Please stay safe! 💕

You thought you were done with this.

Got out by making the best of a bad situation. Honorable discharge following an injury after your last base was infiltrated. “Data analysts” (hackers) can’t have unpredictable hand spasms in the middle of time-sensitive decryptions. So, you got out.

And now you’re all but being dragged back.

You don’t recognize the two stone-faced men flanking you, but you recognize the woman they sit you in front of.

“Laswell.”

She doesn’t look older, but she looks more tired. Like she hasn’t slept since she informed you of your discharge.

“It’s good to see you again,” she says without smiling. It’s good to see you; it’s not good that you’re seeing her. “I wish it was… I wish this wasn’t the situation.”

You arch your eyebrows. Have never known her to speak without measuring the exact dimensions of her words first. She always slides them into spaces perfectly designed for them, builds towers and forts out of syllables.

There’s a treacherous unintentional volume to the word “this” that prickles across your neurons.

“And what’s ‘this’ exactly?” you ask.

“A recently recovered asset,” she explains. You expect a dossier of some kind to be set in front of you. She links her fingers together on top of her desk and looks you in the eye. “He’s asking for you.”

You blink. Never was any good at staring contests with anything but a screen.

“And who,” you speak slowly, poking at the edges of whatever she’s hedging around, “is he?”

A pause, heavy enough to slowly start pressing the air from your lungs.

“Do you remember John MacTavish?” she asks.

You frown, rifling through mental files.

John MacTavish of Task Force 141. Soap. You remember liking him, even though he made a shy, anti-social part of you uneasy. He had a starting problem, and a smiling problem. Or maybe you were the one with the problem - with the way he would often stare and sometimes smile.

You taught him how to find files out in the field. How to take from the enemy and corrupt entire systems. He was good at it. A digital pyromaniac. Used to hand-deliver drives and disks to you, sometimes still bloody and bruised from getting them.

You heard through the gossip vine that he was MIA (or maybe went AWOL?) at some point. Was shipped out to your final assignment soon after.

“Is he the… asset?” you ask.

Her eyes do this funny flicker thing then, and the corner of her mouth tenses. You press your thumb into your palm as your fingers twitch.

“He’s asking for you,” she explains, “and he has information we need.”

Between the lines: we need you to get the information from him. The error code flashing in your mind demands to know why.

“Why?” you wonder.

Maybe you’ve been out too long; forgot that “why” is blasphemy to the government. The answer will always be “because we said so.”

You already miss being out.

“You’ll have to ask him yourself,” she answers and stands.

—

Laswell takes the lead, the same blank-faced guards bring up the rear. This doesn’t feel like you’ve been volun-told to do them a favor. It feels like you’ve been sentenced without a trial.

You’re led down silent, nondescript halls, through heavy gray doors, and into shiny metal elevators. Everything needs a keycard you’ve not been given. The quiet gets heavier, meaner the deeper you go.

There’s the vague sense that you’re underground when Laswell finally stops at a heavily guarded door. She pauses, steals a glance at you that starts a high-pitched alarm in your head.

“He’s different now,” she says finally, “I’m sorry in advance.”

A guard unlatches the door. She nods you ahead to enter first. You hesitate, don’t like the change in light beyond. Behind you, one of the guards shifts. Don’t like that either.

On tingling legs, you slink through the cracked door. It shuts with a gavel’s finality behind you. Alone.

The room you’ve been tricked into barely deserves the word. It’s more a tiny patch of sequestered floor, little bigger than an office cubicle. Clean linoleum and unmarked walls. In the corner, a camera blinks.

But in front of you are bars; a wall of them. A door interrupting the grid-pattern. Beyond, it’s pitch black. You almost make the mistake of stepping forward.

“Stay there,” Laswell’s voice commands. Staticky. An intercom.

From the shadows, a growl. Low, rough. Just this side of human. You plaster yourself to the door you came through, hair standing on end.

The lights come on. It’s only because you’ve frozen that you don’t scream, all of it trapped up in a constricted throat.

The man in front of you is not Soap. It’s not even John MacTavish. It’s a very convincing beast wearing his face. Sort of.

More scars than you remember. A thicker beard too. His signature Mohawk is just a suggestion in the dark brown mess of his hair - like he’s been running his hands through it and ripping out any tangles along the way.

He’s not moving now though. Not except the deep heave of his broad chest. Could be a statue save for that. He’s staring; his eyes are bluer than you remember. Bluer and blanker. Nothing in them except a flicker of something vicious, something covetous. Something that’s peering out from this man.

“We brought her, just like you asked.” Laswell’s voice again, wary and expectant.

Soap doesn’t respond. He inhales deep, gaze still locked with yours. It’s loud, purposeful. Your stomach twists.

“Just as sweet as I remember.” His voice is gravel on ice, resonates in his barrel chest. Fills up the room like a rockslide. You curl your fingers against the door behind you. “You remember me, bonnie?”

It takes your brain a second to realize he’s talking to you. As if he could be speaking to anyone else. Your shadow maybe; she’s always been braver than you.

His eyes twitch, narrowing ever so slightly. His patience winding down, tick, tick, tick.

You jerk your head in a nod. His eyes burn.

“Good.” He cracks his neck. It feels entirely inorganic that he can move just that part of his body. “Would have to punish you if you didn’t.”

You swallow, dig up your voice from the crevice it slunk into.

“Laswell.” Your voice is too high, too nervous. Soap bares his teeth, slams his fist against the all-too-bendable barrier between you two. It shocks you, frightens you. How he could be so still and then so alive all at once.

“John, we brought her. That was the deal.”

You feel sick with something unspoken as he shakes his head.

“No, the deal was you give her to me. Do you see my fuckin’ hands on ‘er? My teeth?”

“The information first.”

You feel sick with rage. Like you’re going to throw up with the disgust that poisons your blood. Your legs nearly give out as you slide to the ground, pressing a hand over your mouth, filling with saliva. Stomach rolling.

Force yourself to breathe through your nose. Would work better if you could close your eyes but prey instinct won’t let you, survival too strong to dare look away from the predator now pacing at the bars. He’s agitated, devolving quickly into anger. You’d tell Laswell to stop pissing him off if that didn’t mean tossing you to him. More than she has, anyway.

“We will take her back if you don’t deliver your end of the deal.”

Like you’re some reward to be given and taken at someone else’s will. An incentive for good behavior.

The military used to make you feel like a dog - sit, stay, bark on command. But you’d take that over being the training treat any day.

Soap snarls. He sounds feral. Spits out a set of numbers, eyes pinned to you. When he’s done, he crouches down. Knees against the wall of bars.

“S’alright, little bird. C’mere and I’ll make it all better,” he coos, beckoning you with two fingers.

You press your lips together against a whimper. His expression twitches. You suck in a breath—

“We’ll need to verify those coordinates first,” Laswell says.

The noise that rips out of Soap makes you shake. You didn’t know people could make sounds like that; like something with teeth and claws and blood matted in its fur. He stands, huge and terrifying.

He curses and threatens (awful, cruel) but Laswell doesn’t respond again. You doubt she’s even listening. And you just stay still and quiet, hoping to avoid his attention altogether, pancaked to the wall.

As is the pattern today, your reasonable hope is eventually dashed. Can almost feel the exact moment Soap’s attention refocuses on you. Like a the click of switch.

And he’s down again, crooning at you so sweetly. Like you didn’t just watch him come within a breath of destroying his cell.

“You know it’s not fair, don’t you,” he murmurs. “You know that I’m owed you. C’mere.”

“I’m not a thing,” you snip, still too high. Almost petulant if not for the frightened crack in the middle. He flashes teeth.

“‘Course you are, hen,” he says, almost laughing. You realize with a jolt that you’ve amused him. “You’re my sweet, pretty thing with the sweet, pretty cunt that I’m gonna fuck and breed.”

Your voice slithers back into the abyss, snatched away by the smoke and shadow promises in his own.

“And you know that’s what you’re for, don’ you?” he continues, voice dripping lower and lower. “You know that you’re mine.”

You shake your head, want to explain that you didn’t have a choice. Government goons have been shuffling you about from place to place, only the illusion of free will, like horse blinders. Keeping you docile and complacent.

You don’t think Soap cares about things like logic or personhood right now though. Or at all.

“Come. Here.”

Hard metal between you, and every atom in your body screams not to comply. So you don’t.

When you shake your head, he snarls and slams his fist into the barrier again. You squeak this time, can’t help it, and try to become one with the wall.

He rages for a few minutes. Demands you, your compliance. At some point you just have to draw your knees up to your chest and lean your head against them. If he could get through, he would have by now. Let his anger become a terrifying background noise, a soundtrack for fear.

It’s when he goes quiet again that the fear returns. Your head snaps up. He’s staring again, still. Just like before. His arms are crossed - biceps huge, straining. There’s a sizable bulge pressed against the bars. Obscene.

“Best get your rest now, little girl,” he rumbles. Even and deceptively calm. “Because when that door opens, I’m not gonna be nice about it.”

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Stop it.”

A puff of air. You can’t tell if it’s amused or annoyed. “Say it while you can, ‘cause it won’t make a difference later.”

You shudder through your next inhale, heart pounding. Try to wrestle yourself under control, convince yourself that Laswell won’t actually give you up to him. Not when she’s already gotten what she wanted from him.

A sound breaks you from your frantic meditation, slick and wet. You look up without thinking. Soap is fucking viciously into his fist, eyes trained on you. The head of his cock is flushed an angry red, dripping with precum, shiny and needy.

“Regret being a little bitch now?” he growls. “Now that you see what’s going in that prissy little cunt?”

You clench and cramp at the very thought. He’s massive, not just long but thick. You wouldn’t be shocked if your fingers didn’t touch wrapped around him — not that you should be considering those logistics. It’ll just freak you out more.

“Can smell your wet pussy from here, hen. Bet I’ll knock you up on the first try.” He squeezes almost cruelly, knuckles banging against the bars as his hips jerk.

You press your thighs together, trying not to think about it. Not to think about all that bulk pinning you down and using you. Big, rough hands and sharp, mean teeth while he—

“Stop,” you grit out, to yourself this time.

His breath shudders, a rough noise dragging up his throat. You twitch back as cum splatters the floor, coats the metal in milky drops. You stare at the mess, mortified.

“Well?” he rasps and your eyes snap back to his. “Going to lick it up like the bitch you are?”

You swallow and curl up tighter. He takes that for the denial it is.

“S’alright,” he says, “you’ll get a taste soon enough.”

#cod #my writing #fanfiction #reader fic #dark fic #asset soap #asset John soap MacTavish #johnny soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader

887 notes · View notes

upsidedownwithsteve · 11 months

Note

i've always loved the idea of a sunshiney/hippie reader with grumpy metalhead eddie, possibly involving her crystal collection or a tarot reading lol

Eddie was used to finding things in his van, his trailer, his bag - shit, even his pockets - that weren’t his.

It was collateral damage from running a bunch of preteens around, sharing babysitting duties with Steve, playing taxi cab and breakfast club. He’d find DnD die that weren’t his, old batteries from walkie talkies, sticky candy wrappers and lost baseball hats, trading cards and half empty bottles of pop that El wasn’t really supposed to drink.

And every time, he’d fuss about it, pretending to be meaner than he was, but fuck, sometimes it got a little too much. His trailer wasn’t big enough for him and Wayne as it was, and finding Lucas’ basketball uniform in his laundry only added to the list of things he needed to get done.

(He always washed it.)

So he’d chew everyone out and throw back their belongings to them like grenades, ranting about personal space and how his van wasn’t a trash can on wheels.

(“Yes it is,” Mike would always interject.)

And then you came along. Bright and bathed in colour, a pop of sunshine beside Eddie’s black and silver get up, always smiling even when the boy was scowling. It took a month, maybe two, of dating when Eddie started finding your things amongst his. It wasn’t anything overwhelming, like a toothbrush at his sink, or your clothes in his wardrobe - no, it was too early for that.

But he’d work a shift at the garage and sneak out the back for a unauthorised smoke break, hand shoved in his pocket to search for his lighter. He’d come up with a handful of rocks instead, pretty, colourful crystals that shone in the sunlight.

He didn’t need to ask to know that they were yours.

And when he drove home, his van rattling and the music blaring, another shiny thing caught his eye. Tucked amongst his cassettes, a lump of something smooth and dark, so black it was almost purple, hints of blue in its depths. He ran his thumb over it, smiling, and tucked it in his pocket with the rest.

By the time he saw you the next day, he’d collected a dozen of the things, scattered around his room, a tiny purple stone that looked like glass in the corner of his shower, a sky blue rock under his pillow.

He held them out to you like a handful of candy, pretty, shiny and colourful, dazzling in the sunlight - just like he thought of you. Eddie smiled when you scrunched your nose at him, looking a little embarrassed. But he took your hand in his free one, helping you clamber onto the bed beside him, your back to his chest as you sat between his spread legs.

Your pink dress clashed with his red shirt, an angry skull logo on the front of his, tiny daisies on yours.

You watched Eddie line up the crystals by size, a neat stripe of bright colour on his dark blue bedsheets. The boy hooked his chin over your shoulder and you could feel the smile he pressed against your cheek, one he’d saved up all day, just for you. He kissed your jaw, nuzzled his face into the crook of your shoulder, stubble scraping your skin until you squealed and laughed.

“These are pretty,” he finally said and you hummed, agreeing. He pointed to the black stone he’d found in his van. “What’s this for?”

“It’s obsidian,” you told him, picking the crystal up and turning it over in your hand. “S’meant to help with protection.”

Something inside Eddie’s chest bloomed, a pretty warmth that he was quickly associating with you. He smiled, hid it in your shoulder and tried not to turn as pink as your shoulder.

“Yeah? That’s awesome.” He pointed to another one, glittery and jagged and lilac coloured. “What about this-?”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #Eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #Eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson oneshot #eddie baby blurb

1K notes · View notes

starsinmylatte · 2 months

Text

18+ Gallagher thoughts incoming minors DNI

TW: afab!reader, she/her pronouns, sex while under the influence as a consensual dynamic, etc.

Just thinking about Gallagher, who loves his sweetheart so much, but she’s been so stressed recently and he just can't have that :(

The security officer knows his lover is capable and wouldn’t want him to solve all her problems for her, but that doesn’t mean that he can’t at least take her mind off of them for the night.

It'd be such a waste of his fantastic bartending skills for his baby to have a steady mind right now, especially when he could have her all soft and pliant beneath him, mind hazy from a potent mixture of liquor and the aphrodisiac ingredients he's so lovingly layered in.

—

“Feelin’ good baby?” Gallagher nearly growls as the thick, swollen head of his cock rubs against your cervix just right. “Is my pretty girl’s head all up in the clouds like she wanted?”

You mewl and cry but no discernible words come out as your back digs even further into the bar top and your core flutters greedily around his shaft. The world is so hazy and there’s just so much of your lover filling you so deeply, surrounding you in every possible way. All you can do is cling to whatever bits of him you can reach, desperate for another caress or sloppy kiss.

Gallagher’s head tips back in sheer bliss and he laughs, deep and gravelly. The way you’re squeezing around his cock is more than enough to answer his question for him.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he rasps as he tucks your legs over his shoulders, and his steady thrusts grow even meaner. “You just lay there and look all pretty for me.”

#gallagher hsr #gallagher honkai star rail #gallagher headcanons #hsr x reader #hsr x you #honkai star rail #gallagher x reader

306 notes · View notes

eddiesxangel · 5 months

Text

buy me presents | Santa!Eddie x Reader

Summary: your ex seems to be popping back into your life at the most inconvenient times, and your new boyfriend isn’t so jolly about the whole thing.

words: 2.3k

CW: Eddie is mall Santa; Eddie is possessive and protective over reader. Reader has ex-boyfriend who cheated and who makes unwanted advances. Smut, breeding kink, Christmas dirty talk. Reader and Eddie are in their 20's, but Eddie is a few years older. MDNI 18+ only

December 15th

Back at the mall, unaccompanied by your nephew Christopher, you were holiday shopping for your friends and family. The mall was packed; there are only ten days left until Christmas, and it seemed like everyone and their mother were out. The one good thing about being here is that you knew your boyfriend would be working today, and you hoped to catch him on his lunch break. You'd seen many familiar faces but had no time to stop for pleasantries; you were overwhelmed by the busy mall's commotion and noise, and you wanted to get your stuff, see Eddie and get out.

You'd been on seven dates since you first met Eddie two weeks ago. He had asked you to be his girlfriend on your last date two days ago. Were you moving fast? Maybe, but you were so into him. Your previous boyfriend, Kevin, was a total jerk and hadn't done half the things Eddie had done for you in the past two weeks in the two and a half years you were together.

You'd broken up with him three months ago when you found out he had been fooling around with Katrina, his "coworker," behind your back. He thought he was hot shit because he had Daddy's credit card, and he got him a swanky office job. It's too bad he wasn't actually doing any work and spending all his time and Daddy's money on the pretty pencil skirt during working hours.

"Well, well, well, look who it is" A shiver fell down your spine as you were knocked out of your own thoughts. You were looking at a window display in the middle of the mall where the Santa display was waiting for your boyfriend Eddie.

"Oh, it's you." You deadpan seeing Kevin and his friends approach you.

"What have we got here?" Kevin reaches down to the bag labelled Vctoria's Secret and grabs it from your hands. As he reaches inside and pulls out the lingerie you had bought to surprise Eddie, your blood boils. You're eyes are threatening to fill with tears as Kiven then asks if this is what you were planning on wearing to get him back.

Eddie could see you waiting for him; he signalled to you that he had five more minutes until his break. You gave him a smile and a thumbs up and turned to the window display behind you. Eddie's focus went back to the child approaching him.

"Leave me alone Kevin!" Eddie's head snapped from the child in his lap and filled the sound of your voice.

He saw a tall blonde guy talking to you with a bunch of what he assumed to be the guy's friends surrounding you.

"Come on, baby, you know you miss me." He went to grab your arm, and you flinched away. Eddie was seeing red. Who the fuck was this guy, and why was he touching his girl?

Eddie jumped up after the last child in line left, and he beelined to you, not caring. He was still dressed as the jolly head elf.

"What do you think you're doing?" You jumped at the sound of Eddie's voice coming from behind you. You turn to see your boyfriend looking meaner than usual when he is dressed up as Santa Claus.

"Oh, good you're here," You say to Eddie, taking his hand before turning to Kevin. "I'd love to stay and chat, but we have to go."

A burst of laughter falls from Kevin and his douchebag friends. "OH, don't tell me you're banging fatso." He laughed, poking Eddi's fake belly. "Fuck, who knew you were so kinky? Why are you holding out on me, baby?"

"You wanna say that again, pretty boy?" Eddie threatened. How dare he speak to you like that. Who the fuck even is this guy.

"Eddie baby, let's just go." You pleaded, pulling his arm, not wanting to make a bigger scene.

"No, babe, who the fuck is this guy? And why does he think he can talk to you that way? " You saw the look of concern in his eyes. He truly cared for you. It was a look you never saw Kevin I've you, not once in the two and a half years you were together.

"I'm her boyfriend," Kevin puffed out his chest.

"Ex-boyfriend," You corrected right away.

"Oh come on baby, stop playing this game, I know you want me." he went to reach for you again, but Eddie stepped in front of him. Eddie towered over him even though Kevin was tall, Eddie was taller.

"You touch my girl again, and that pretty boy face of yours isn't going to look so pretty," Eddie growled through his white synthetic beard.

Eddie tried his best to look intimidating; however, his cutie rosy nose and cheeks were not helping.

"We got a problem here?" the mall security guard butted in just as Kevin was getting into Eddie's face. You sighed a breath of relief that this was finally ending.

"No problem, officer, we were just leaving," Kevin replies smugly. "See you around, baby." He smirks and your stomach churns.

" You're getting coal in your stocking, young man!" Eddie replies as he realizes all the kids are watching him, and he is still, in fact, dressed as Kris Kringle.

December 18th

You were at the local coffee shop in your regular booth waiting for Eddie to come out of the bathroom.

"Surprise, surprise, fancy seeing you here, baby." Your skin crawled as the voice of the one and only ex-boyfriend filled your ears.

"Don't call me that, I broke up with you ." you grit through your teeth.

"Come on, baby," He slid into your side of the booth, blocking you in with no way out. "I know you want me." you cringed back as Kevin's unwanted hand came tracing up your arm and across your chest, groping you before he was jerked backwards by the hood of his jacket. landing on his ass.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?" Eddie, your Eddie came barling out of the bathroom to see you in distress because of the fucker from the mall.

"Who the fuck are you?" Kevin scremed. His eyes went wide when he examined Eddie. He looked scary; he was all combat boots, leather and heavy metal, while Kevin was all polo shirts, country clubs and Sperry's.

You watched with wide eyes as Eddie picked up Kevin off of the floor, "I told you last time, you lay a finger on my girl one more time; I was going to fuck up that prettyboy face." Eddie growled.

"Santa?" Kevin's lip quivered before Eddie pushed him out the door.

Your coffee was long forgotten as you scrambled to get your purse and chase after Eddie. The last thing you need is Kevin pressing charges.

Just before Eddie was about to knock the shit out of your ex, you yelled out to him, breaking Eddie's trace. He had totally forgotten you were there, watching him.

"Baby, please let's just go," You gently grab his raised fist and open his hand to interlock your fingers with his. Eddie was still snarling with his other hand still wrapped up in the collar of your ex's shirt, pressing him up against the brick wall. The fear in Kevin's eyes was pathetic; you knew he had never gotten into a fistfight a day in his life.

"Please," You begged. As you turned Eddie's face from Kevin's to yours, the anger from his face slipped away once he saw your pleading eyes.

"You're lucky, pretty boy." Eddie gave him one last shove before wrapping a protective arm around you and turning you to the car.

"Thank you, baby." You kiss Eddie's cheek as he opens the car door for you.

"You don't have to thank me, Sugarplum." He brushes it off as no big deal. It was a big deal. He was your protector. Your knight in shining armour. And you knew just the thing to do to thank him.

"Baby, I have a surprise for you when we get back to mine... You can come in for a little while, yeah?" You were going to wait for Christmas but you thought he deserved his gift a little early.

Seeing Eddie so worked up and protective over you was such a big turn-on that you sprinted to your apartment because you couldn’t wait to give Eddie his gift. You told Eddie to wait outside the bedroom door and not to come in until you said so.

You pulled out the Christmas theme lingerie from your drawer. You washed it after Kevin's grubby fingers were on it. You stripped as quick as possible and stepped into the sexy little outfit. You were wrapped up like a Christmas present as a big silky red bow was tied around your chest that pushed your boobs up just right. You paired it with a matching silk thong that has a smaller bow on the back just above your ass. You had sheer red thigh-high stockings and these cute little red reindeer antlers that you clipped onto your head.

Eddie was bouncing on his heels the whole time you were in the room getting ready he had no idea what he was walking into.

"Baby, come in," You cooed, and his jaw hit the floor as he opened the door.

There you were wrapped up for him like a perfect little present.

"Fuck baby when did you get this" He reached out to examine the outfit.

"When I was at the mall, Santa needed a gift, too, you know?." You bit your lip.

You felt Eddie grope your ass as he landed in to take your mouth in his. He kissed you deep and smooth as he pushed you gently onto the bed.

"Fuck I'm so glad you dropped that douchebag." He hummed into your mouth before his kissed and sucked down your neck.

"Let's not talk about him." You hummed back. "How about we focus on you unwrapping me." You arched your back so that your breasts could graze Eddie's chest.

"Fuck, don't have to tell me twice." Eddie pulled apart the bow that was holding you together.

"You're my perfect little present, aren't you?" Eddie praised before he latched his mouth on your exposed nipple. He nipped and licked and sucked until you cried out with pleasure. He knew your body like no other man before him.

Eddie trailed a finger down your sternum right to the waistline of your panties. "What am I going to find if I fully unwrap you? Am I going to find a toy? Is that it? You're going to be my little fuck toy for the evening?" He circled a single digit around your clothed mound, teasing you.

"Yes," You sighed.

"Fuuuuuuck baby, then what am I waitin' for?" He flipped you over so you were on all fours. You arched your ass out so Eddie got the perfect view of the little bow perched right above your little hole. Eddie let out a groan of pleasure at the sight in front of him. He didn't know about the little bow on your panties, and he swore, right then and there, he would marry you. "I swear you're trying to kill me, Sugarplum." You giggled as he gripped each of our cheeks in both hands, and he spread you apart to get a better look.

"Shit baby you're already soaked through your panties." He sighed before leaning in to lap and you're clothed cunt.

"Oh god!" You cried out as Eddie's warm mouth consumed your heat. Eddie's hands massaged the thick muscle of your ass as he continued to lick at the juices leaking from your panties.

"What are you waiting for, baby? Unwrap me." You look back at him from over your shoulder, arching your back as far as you can.

Eddie peeled your panties off, pulling them down slowly. He was savouring and memorizing the sight of a string of your slick being pulled with your panties. He then turning to lay under you so your cunt was hovering over your face. "Sit on my face," Edde instructed before pulling you down directly on him. His tongue worked its magic, and you saw stars. As he hummed into your pussy your body shook.

"Oh my god I’m gunna cum!" You scream. You could feel Eddie smirk against your pussy; he was so smug he could have you coming on his face in two minutes flat. "That's it, baby girl, need you nice and wet so I can fuck this pussy right." Eddie's mouth never failed to make you wet; whether it was his words or his tongue, he always could make you soak your panties.

After your first orgasm washed over you Eddie slid from under you and propped himself up on the pillows. You followed him as you straddled his waist.

"You wanna be my little toy tonight? Gunna use this pussy like my own little fleshlight." Eddie aligned his cock with your entrance and pulled your hips down onto his cock, splitting you open.

“Fuck baby, you gunna cream my cock? That’s what you’re made for right? Designed to be my dirty little toy, hmm” he bounced you up and down in his cock. His cock hit that spot inside of you that made you feel snowflakes in your lower tummy.

“Yes-yesss, only for you” you panted as your muscles in your legs started to burn. You held yourself up by gripping Eddie’s shoulders. He kissed and panted into your mouth. It was messy, it was hot. The feeling of his cock brushing your inner walls made your eyes roll back in your head.

“Fucking me so good” you cried as your second orgasm snuck up on you.

“You love being my little fuck toy don’t you?” Your pussy clamped itself around Eddie at his words, also making him cum instantly.

“Fuck you milk this cock so good. Gunna fill you till you’re leaking me for days.”

“God you fuck me so good” you giggle resting your forehead against his.

“Best Christmas gift ever” Eddie panted before he flipped you over for another round.

Reposted 🎅🏻

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson #eddie fanfiction #Eddie x you #Eddie smut #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x reader #Spotify

534 notes · View notes

carolmunson · 1 year

Text

let's go, don't wait: part II (e.m. x f!reader)

inspired by this prompt by @edsforehead - it's not exactly the same but i did my best! series masterlist summary: modern!eddie's been single since 2020 and aside from getting his dick wet after weekend shows at the hideout, he hasn't been going out of his way for love until his friends make him. cw: 18+ for adult themes. alcohol use, swearing, phone sex, smut, oral (f receiving). some sad childhood talk, all around this is a fluff piece so nothing too bad. (19K words.)

With how easy the first date had been to make, Eddie wasn’t expecting it to be so hard to pin you down for the next one. Neither of your schedules had lined up for the rest of the week, and up until next Friday neither of you had much free time. You either had to stay at work late or he had to stay late for the three extracurriculars he was running (jazz club, D&D club, and co-runner of the school’s GSA) – which he’d only be annoyed about running if he didn’t absolutely love the kids. The extra overtime didn’t hurt either, perks of working at a rich kid private arts school.

At first he was nervous you were busy going on dates with other guys until he called you one night and he could hear your boss in the background waxing poetic about the shift to lab grown sapphires. Then he’d feel bad for feeling so accusatory to start – you’d never said anything to each other about being exclusive. Hell, you’d only been on one date. But you talked every day, and fuck did that feel good for Eddie.

g’morning pretty ew you’re obsessed with me. good morning, boy

He’s happy he knows you’re joking because he’s certain no other guy would get it. He knows you read his text and screamed into your pillow, cheeks hot and chest thrumming. That’s why you always have to respond so mean so that he doesn’t know how much you like him back. This backfires, because he can tell that the meaner you are, the more you like his attention.

what’s your weekend look like? i know you leave for AZ on sunday but i’d really like to see you before you go.

You were headed to a gem trade show in Tucson on Sunday for a few days. You went every year you’d been working for your boss, you told him all about it on the phone. You’re cute when you’re excited but he didn’t want to embarrass you by saying so – just let you rattle on about all the things you get to see. You promised to send him pictures of some of the cool fossils you might come across, all of the big crystal furniture. “You were a weird dinosaurs kind of kid, right? You’d be into pictures of fossils?" “Why are you so mean? Would you go up to nine year old me and call him a weird kid that’s into dinosaurs?” “No, he’d be so sad.” “So next time you wanna say some mean shit, imagine you’re saying it to nine year old me.” “I bet you were a cute kid,” you thought out loud, “You’re a really cute adult.”

“You think I’m cute?” “The cutest.” His face burned at every compliment you offered him, flushing dark pink at every sweet word you said. He was a mess. Embarrassment would flood him when he’d check his phone during class, the kids would never let him hear the end of it. “Did you meet her on Tinder, Mr. E?” “This is not appropriate class discussion guys,” his eyes would shut tight in frustration when they’d catch him texting you back and he’d reluctantly tuck his phone into his back pocket. They were way bolder than he was at their age. “No because like, you’re so happy though. Look how you’re smiling when you text her.” “Mr. Munson’s got that W rizz.” “Is she hot?” “Be fucking forreal. He’s blushing so hard right now.” “Smash or pass, Munson?” “Guys, can you relax? You literally have a test right now." Bzz. Bzz.

i gotta run errands on saturday and go then leave sunday night :( working late friday cause we need to take gem inventory essentially He sighed, he didn’t want to wait until next Friday to see you again.

i could run errands with you if you’ll have me. i’ll drive! you sure? it’s not super exciting stuff. you make it exciting. :) i’ll take you out to lunch. sound good? okay :) okay :) see you saturday, cutie omg shut up 🙄 but yeah. see you saturday. :)

He was nervous you’d notice he got his interior detailed the night before, but he was too embarrassed to let you get into the car in its original glory. He honked the horn in three short bursts, being mindful of the neighbors even though it was around 9:30 in the morning. You inch out of the door of your place, the first floor of a quaint three family home, in your Princess Diana best. You dressed for errands and his heart swells, leggings and a big sweatshirt, little white sneakers and socks. You look cute like this, hurrying outside with your paper Old Navy bag blowing in the wind, relaxed and laid back. But you aren’t for long, you take a step outside only to feel the chill in the ‘second winter’ air of March and raise a finger to him before running back inside — reappearing with a lightweight parka haphazardly thrown on. You patter to the car and he tries to ignore his heart rate speeding up while he leans over to open it for you. “Hey you,” he smiles, “Good morning.” “Morning,” you say with a coy smile. His chest leans forward slightly to kiss you as you settle in but he stops short. Are you there yet? You only kissed that night last week. What if you weren’t ready to kiss again? He swallows, settling back into his seat but recognizing how his car fills with your scent. You smell so fucking good he could eat you. “So what’s the agenda, sugar?” he asks. “Okay, agenda: Target, Old Navy for a return,” you say, raising your bag, “I have to run into Sephora to pick up some sunscreen for my boss, and um…I think that’s it? They’re all in the same shopping center over by um – by the movie theater.” “Oh yeah,” he nods, “I know the one.” He reaches for the sound system, turning the volume up a little, Lamb of God’s Vanishing crunching through his speakers. He watches for your reaction and can tell you don’t know it, but you don’t seem appalled or repulsed. “Do you have a tunes preference?” he asks, voice velvety smooth, eyes catching on your parted lips, “It’s a long drive.” “Uh…” your knee bounces faster, “I mean it’s your car. We should listen to what you wanna listen to.” “Honey, I’m like your Uber driver today,” he offers, head tilting while he looks over at you. Eddie’s gaze lingers on your face with soft eyes, lashes a shadow over his irises, “How’m I gonna get a five star review if you don’t like the music?”

“I do!” you assure aggressively, “I do like it.”

“Here, I have a plan,” he nods, holding his hand out, “Gimme your phone.”

You toss him a look which triggers an eye roll from him, “Just trust me, give me your phone.”

“Here’s the bargain, I connect your tunes to my car,” he mumbles while he disconnects his phone from the car’s Bluetooth and connects yours instead, “But I get to pick the songs. Deal?”

A giggle bubbles out of you, shoulders shaking loosely, “That’s ridiculous.”

“But is it a deal?” he asks again. He takes a breath that inflates his chest, while you consider it. It’s not fair that you look so cute this morning, it’s not fair that he doesn’t have the confidence to just reach over and lay one on you like they do in the movies. He wasn’t lying when he said you were so kissable.

“It’s a deal,” you nod. He watches your knee slow down to stopping. Eddie swallows, eyes traveling from your knees to your full thighs sitting fat in his passenger's seat with a quick scan that you don’t notice.

“Okay, so let’s see…” he mutters, going into your music and scrolling through your artists, landing pretty early on with an enthusiastic nod that makes his waves bounce around his face.

“Blood Brothers?” he asks, “Wow, you really did hate your dad, huh? I haven’t heard this album in years.”

“I started liking them for a boy back in high school,” you shrugged while he thumbed through the tracks, “Then started liking them forreal.” “That’s okay,” he smiles over at you, “You’d be surprised to see my Spotify wrapped every year. Never as mean and scary as you’d expect.”

“No?” your brows raise, “Not a bunch of ‘Stabby Metal Scream Crunch Stab’ in your top ten?”

He scoffs, settling on ‘Set Fire to the Face on Fire’, the opening Fire! Fire! Fire! leaking through the speakers, “I married the head cheerleader at my high school – I’d like to think my music taste is pretty eclectic. Metal’s just, y’know, the main course. Plenty of side dishes on my roster.”

“You a big fan of having something on the side?” you quirk a brow at him through the rear view mirror while he puts the car in drive. He scoffs again, lips twitching up into a smirk. You’re quick and it makes his blood rush, his fingers drum nervously on the wheel while he keeps the car in place.

“Why’re you so mean, huh?” he teases, “Do I look like the kind of guy that’s had a lot of side pieces?”

“Oh,” you start, giving him a once over, “Not even close.”

“You’re here with me, aren’t you?” he asks, putting the car in park again. He turns down the volume, turning his body completely towards you. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” you drone, turning yourself toward him in return, “I guess I am.” Eddie clears his throat, tongue flicking over his full lips to wet them.

“So uh…before we hit the road,” his voice cracks, heart rattling in its cage, trapped in his chest, “D’you-think-I-could-steal-a-kiss-good-morning?” It pours out of his mouth while his body goes numb – like the bandaid was ripped off but someone else did it for him. His hopeful voice when he presents the offer sounds foreign to him, but he knows what he’s asking you. Blood rushes in his ears, the steady thump of his heart pounding through his veins. Your bottom lip tucks into your teeth, eyes shutting briefly with anticipation, a tiny chuckle huffs through your nose. Your knee starts to bounce again.

“Yeah, but it’s not stealing if I’m letting you have one,” you reply, your own voice becoming delicate and girlish, teenage nerves coasting down your throat through the back of your neck. He leans close to you, engulfed again in the scent of your perfume, head leaning to the side slightly while your movements mirror his. Eddie brings a hand up to hold your face, keeping you steady while he goes in for the kill, one he’d been hoping to make since he saw you last. Heart stuck in his throat, he almost feels a sob shoot through his chest when his lips touch yours. It’s as soft and warm as he remembers. As soft and warm as the moment he’s been replaying in his head since last Monday.

You both break apart but he doesn’t move away from your face, hand dropping from your cheek to your bouncing knee where he gives it a gentle squeeze, “Are you nervous?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I think maybe, yeah. But I’m excited, too. Y’know, to spend the day with you.”

It’s his turn to feel giddy and embarrassed, a flush building steadily on the apples of his cheeks, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m nervous, too. But it’s just gonna be a nice, chill day, okay?”

“Okay,” you nod, both of you wearing matching smiles.

“I do have a rule, though,” his brows furrow, implying he’s serious. You look very seriously back at him.

“I gotta kiss you every time you’re startin’a look a little too good,” he gives you a shrug of one shoulder before settling back into the driver’s seat while he pulls onto the road, “Cause I don’t know if you saw, but the way you look this morning is fucking illegal.”

You let out a soft tsss from between your teeth, shaking your head while you settle back into your seat, “You’re so stupid.”

“I’m just a man, sugar,” he tilts his head, readjusting behind the wheel before putting the car back in drive. He restarts the song before pulling onto the road, feeling like maybe this errands date would go much, much better than he’d planned. He drums on the steering wheel again, head softly bouncing along with the beat of the song while the lyrics scream through the car. You mouth along with them, staring out the window while you do.

‘Those cold hooks, cemetery claws raking at the infant's jaws,Set fire to the horse on fire,Set fire to the dress on fire,Set fire to the stage on fire,Set fire to the stars on fire!’

“Damn, me and the band shoulder cover this,” he nods to himself, “We’d fuckin’ crush.”

“Can you scream like that?” you ask, turning your head to face him, “I feel like I’d blow my vocal chords.”

“Eh, sorta kinda,” he tilts his head from side to side, “I got plenty of practice. Do plenty of screaming with our own stuff, you sorta train your voice up to do it. I might not be able to scream as high but, I could harmonize with Jeff – lead guitar if you remember –” “I remember,” you smile, “And his wife Alycia.”

“And is wife Alycia! Damn, look at you,” he smiles, “You should write my memoirs. But yeah, surprisingly Jeff can get pretty high up there – it’s super impressive.”

“Well when you cover it, I’ll come watch,” you nod, “You still haven’t really told me about your band.”

“Corroded Coffin?” he asks, turning into a coffee shop drive-thru and pulling up behind a short line of cars, “Not much to tell. We play shows every couple weeks, in the summer every week, at a few bars around the city that are into that scene. We have fun – still play at our old stomping grounds in Hawkins, too. Same five drunks cheering us on for the last twelve years.”

His eyes widen at the realization, “Twelve years, Jesus. I’m so fuckin’ old.”

“Oh, thank god I only have two years until I’m fuckin’ old,” you laugh, “You don’t look old.”

“You don’t look old either,” he smiles, giving you a once over that you immediately feel shy under, “What can I get you?”

“Oh no, no,” you shake your head, reaching for your wallet in your Old Navy bag, “I’ll get it, seriously. You’re driving me.”

“No, please, I’ll get it,” he says, pushing your hand down gently while you offer your card.

“I wanna pay for it, you’re already going out of your way to do all this boring shit,” you offer again. He plucks your card from your fingers and flicks it into the backseat. He shrinks when your smile falls, you’re very obviously not taken by his actions.

“Look,” he shrugs, voice lowering, “I didn’t wanna say anything cause I didn’t know how you’d react. But this location actually doesn’t accept money from women. I know, crazy right? So sexist. Its so gross of me to still go here when it’s totally against all my shit. But since they don’t accept any payments from women, I’m gonna have to pay or else we can’t get coffee.”

You roll your eyes but can’t hold back your laugh, “Fuck, why do you have to be funny about it?”

“You think I’m funny, huh?” he grins, pulling up to the microphone box.

“Yeah, funny lookin’,” you tease. Eddie ‘tsks’ a few times with a shake of his head, looking back at you.

“What can I get you?” he asks again.

“Medium, iced, caramel. Almond milk if they have it, regular if not,” you respond, crossing your arms. He orders and can feel your eyes on him, he wants to turn back around and kiss that pout right off your lips. You’re not used to having someone take care of things and he can tell, you don’t like it either. Or at least you don’t know how to let yourself like it. Two givers stuck in a car running errands with each other – he wonders if you’ve ever known how to take.

He gets the coffees, yours with your milk and flavor, his iced and black. You say thank you when you take it, there’s something about your face when you do, a softness he feels like he’s not supposed to see.

“Hey, you know my rule,” he says, leaning in again, “You’re startin’ to look at little too good right now.”

Your embarrassed smile says enough when you close the gap between the two of you, lips pressing together in a soft and gentle peck.

“Thank you,” he expresses, big brown eyes looking into yours before pulling back onto the streets. He turns the sound system up again, the opening of Cam’ron’s Hey Ma flows through the speakers, he nods enthusiastically.

“Another banger,” he exclaims.

“You know this song?” you ask with surprise.

“I grew up in a trailer park, baby. You hear a lot of different music out there,” he shrugs. Eddie feels his throat choke up when he realizes he called you baby. But at least if you hated it, you weren’t showing any sign that you did.

“Got drops. Got coupes. Got trucks. Got jeeps. Alright, 'cause we gon' take a ride tonight So ma. Wassup? Let's slide. Alright. Alright, and we gon' get it on tonight.” He likes that you’re impressed that he knows the words, of course he does. He grew up hearing this song all of summer 2002, running through the hose with the little kids, while his old baby sitters sat out in lawn chairs to work on their color. Playboy Bunny stickers on their hip bones to show off their tan lines.

You both sing the opening verse to the windshield, windows coming down an inch as you turn onto the parkway, voices booming over Juelz Sanatana’s.

“Now I was down town clubbin’, ladies night, Seen shorty she was crazy right, And I approached baby like, ‘Ma, what’s your age and type?’ She looked at me and said, ‘Yous a baby right?’” He hits the last red light before the long stretch of the drive, turning to you to deliver a passionate line reading of the lyrics. He’s surprisingly smooth, even impressing himself at how actually cool he’s being about it.

“I told her, I’m eighteen and live a crazy life, Plus I’ll tell you what the 80s like, and I know what the ladies like, Need a man that’s polite, listens and takes advice. I can be all three, plus I can lay the pipe. Come with me, come stay the night.”

He winks when he finishes the line and by the way you stop singing, he knows he’s got you flustered. You are easy. He wants to see how much easier it is.

“You better be careful,” you warn, tongue caught between your teeth. “Yeah? I better be careful?” he grins, car pushing forward when the light changes so he can turn onto the highway.

“You’re trouble, Munson,” you shake your head, turning your attention back to the stretch of asphalt ahead of the both of you, “You’re big trouble.”

“She looked at me laughin’ like, ‘Boy your game is tight.’ I’m laughin’ back like, ‘Sure, you’re right.’”

“D’you need a cart?” Eddie asks, taking a side step over to the push carts neatly pushed into each other in between the double doors of Target.

“Nah, if I get a cart I’m just gonna use it as an excuse to buy more stuff,” you pull a face, shoulders dropping dramatically, “And while I’d love to have an excuse to buy more stuff, I just need a basket.” “Basket it is,” he grins, hand wrapping over the hard plastic of one of the handles, tugging a basket loose from where it’s encased with its brothers. You reach your hand out, taking a step closer to the entrance, our step triggers the automatic doors and he files in after you.

He looks at your outstretched hand behind you and then up at your face, “I can hold it, Ed.”

He gives you a small shake of his head, “Nah, I’ll carry it. You lead the way. What’s on your list?” “I mostly just need to get travel stuff…like toiletries,” you think out loud, “I guess this wasn’t really much of a big errand now that I think about it.”

“That’s okay,” he says, and he means it.

You don’t go straight to the beauty section. You’re taken by the $5 and under shelves at the front of the store, full of small decor knick knacks that he recognizes from his own apartment. This is where Tati’s always picking up those little gold tchotchkes for the coffee table and bookshelves every other month. The same way Chrissy would always have new, tiny holiday themed pieces every year to sneak onto their mantle.

“So, do you want me to keep you on task?” he asks, falling in step next to you, watching your fingers toy over a felted bunny figurine for Easter, “Or do you want me to aid in you not being on task?”

You look over at him, eyes scanning over his frame. He catches the way your eyes linger on the way his t-shirt fits him under his leather jacket and denim vest. Dark olive green, a touch too tight in the chest, collar worn out just enough so that the ends of his collar bones peeked through.

“We have all day, right?” you smirk.

“All day,” he nods, “You a walking through the aisles type of girl?”

“Is that a deal breaker?” you ask, attention captivated by a lavender ceramic pencil holder in the shape of a rainbow.

“No, not at all,” he assures, taking you by surprise when he presses a kiss to your temple, “I’m a walking through the aisles type of guy.”

“Was I looking a little too good while perusing the five dollar shelf?” you tease while you move onward into the store, stopping to thumb through a rack of jeans.

“Well that’s the thing,” he says with a tilt of his head, “You’re always lookin’ a little too good.”

He hums when you roll your eyes, “Hmm. How’d I know that was coming?”

“Why’re you so nice to me all the time, huh?” you fake argue, bored with looking at clothes and taking deliberate steps towards home goods to the bath section. Eddie hurries to keep up, basket clicking and clacking in his hand.

“I guess I can be mean to you, but I feel like that would make me a shitty date,” he jokes back, “And an even worse Uber driver.”

“So true, actually. Zero stars,” you nod, running your hand over a towel that matches the color of his shirt, “Y’know green’s a really good color for you? Makes your eyes pop.”

“Oh…” he can feel himself turning red when you say that. So she’s been looking at my eyes? Is she always secretly sort of checking me out the way I’m always secretly sort of checking her out? Does she think I’m cute or something? Why am I trying to propose to her right now? Is it ‘cause we’re looking at towels?

“Um, thank you. I’ll um, I’ll wear it more often,” he runs a hand over his face while you continue to look at towels, turning the corner to look at the fancier ones. You laugh at his jittery response, not so much at him, not teasing, but – this guy covered in tattoos, stomping in combat boots, definitely has a knife in his back pocket, chains dangling down the side of his pants, is blushing bright red just because you said he looks good in green. This guy?

“You should,” you encourage, turning to see his reddened face, “What happened to not being nervous?”

“That’s a rule for you,” he says, walking a few steps ahead of you. His eyes catch on a soap dispenser, it’s the same one he had in the master bathroom back with Chris, “I can be as nervous as I want.”

“Ah, I see, rules for thee, not for me,” you nod slowly.

“See! Now you’re getting it,” he says over his shoulder. He reaches his free hand back toward you, eyes meeting yours, tossing you a smile when you look at his hand and back at him, “Yeah, I want you to hold it.”

When your fingers slide in to lace with his he realizes his hands are a little sweaty. They weren’t last time you saw him, with your hand cradled in between his on his knee at the bar. He was a couple drinks in then, not forced to face the action fully. Not aware enough to realize he was holding a pretty girl’s hand in public on a domestic date and all he can think about is railing you in the backseat of his Honda Civic and also making a mental note of all the color choices you like so when you eventually move in together he already knows what you — Jesus fucking Christ you have soft hands. You guide him through the rest of the bathroom section, stopping briefly to consider whether or not you need more hand towels for your apartment and then shaking it off. He let’s you take him around the corner to mattress covers, you talk about your Casper mattress and how you still aren’t sure if you really like it two years later. He hears himself respond in a fog but he’s caught up on how right it feels to be here with you, to be holding your hand, holding your Target basket for you, listening to you talk about whatever.

You get to bedding and stop at the throws, Eddie’s fog lifts when you let go of his hand to take one of them off the shelf. A dark green knitted blanket replaces his hand, folded up neat and tidy in its wrap-around casing.

“This is so perfect for my living room,” you murmur to yourself, “It’s so cute.”

Eddie leans against the shelf while you let your senses absorb the knit: touch, sight, smell. You peer at the other colors, unhappy with the rest, balancing the blanket on your hip while you look back at the empty spot where it once sat. Your eyes roll again, shoulders slumping for real this time.

“Not seventy five dollars cute,” you grumble, putting the blanket back on the shelf.

“Seventy five dollars?” he asks, aghast, brown eyes rounding in surprise, “What, did they shear the sheep here or something?”

“That’s capitalism for ya,” you click your tongue, giving the blanket one last look with a little pout, “Oh well, I’m sure I can find a dupe or something at TJ Maxx.”

“M’sorry, sweetheart,” he consoles, taking your hand back and giving it an apologetic squeeze.

“Sweetheart…” you repeat back, “That’s cute.”

“That’s cute? Okay,” he smiles down at the tile under his feet, teeth showing, “I’ll keep note of that.”

You both continue your journey through bedding, crossing through the Hearth & Hand showcase where he listens to you gripe about how you swear it’s a scam. None of this shit should be this expensive. Like, I could get all this shit at H&M Home online for twenty dollars less. What, just cause they’re on TV? Frickin’ ridiculous. He still stands by thinking that you’re cute when you’re mad. He can’t let go of your hand. He doesn’t even care that you’re both so far from travel toiletries, that you likely forgot why you were even here. He just likes this, being in Target with you, holding your hand while you yell about something.

“Oh, hold on, I gotta look at these,” you squeeze his hand before you let go again, walking ahead of him while Matchbox Twenty’s 3AM fades into Des’ree’s You Gotta Be.

“Decorative wicker baskets?” he asks, stepping back to look at the wall of wicker baskets of all sizes in the back of the store.

“I need two for under my dresser,” you say, reaching up to grab one and looking at the tag for the dimensions, “S’for my socks and stuff.”

He tosses you a look and you look back at him, “Don’t ask.”

You get lost in the task, two stepping with a little sway to your hips, small movements. You sing along to the song while you pull one basket down and put it back, and so on. You gotta be cool, you gotta be calm, you gotta stay together. You aren’t mocking him when you sing along but the lyrics feel like they are. You’re so into it, too. He guesses this is what you’re like when no one’s around to watch you. How unfortunate that you’re so kissable even when you think no one is around to see it.

“Hey,” he says, putting the basket down, “What did I say about looking too good?”

“What?” you turn around, eyes rounded, almost startled, “Am I taking too long?”

“No,” he says with a furrow of his brow, approaching you gently while he crosses into your personal space. His voice drops a little lower, lips lingering close to yours, “No baby, not at all. Just looking really cute over here.”

You can’t help but feel girlish when he’s like this, giggling while heat floods your cheeks and chest.

“C’mere,” he whispers, pressing you back with his body so you’re flush with the shelves against the wall. His nose brushes yours, fingers finding your chin to tilt you up toward him where his mouth can taste you and you can taste him. He starts slow, just a test, shrouded in the lower light of the back decorative basket aisle, lips parting slightly to see if you’ll match it. He puffs a small breath against the ridge of your upper lip and it’s enough to send you into a frenzy. His body presses close up against you, kiss gaining fervor, hands coming up to cup around your cheek and neck to guide you with him

“Wait, wait,” you gasp, breaking away, “We’re gonna get in trouble.”

“You think I’m scared of getting in trouble?” he clicks his tongue before grinning at you. Looks like you don’t do trouble. His lips ghost over yours, skating softly over your cheek to get to your ear, “I’ve been gettin’ kicked out of Targets since 2007, sweetheart.”

His teeth graze your ear lobe, your hands reaching to clutch the soft leather of his jacket, a small sigh puffs out of you. He’s not sure if it’s pushing it, but the aisle is empty, and whatever he’s doing, he’s pretty sure you like it – his lips drop from your earlobe to the edge of your jaw, settling on a slow, wet open mouth kiss on your neck before meeting your mouth again.

“Ed,” you mumble quietly, “I can’t be turned on at Target.”

“Yes you can,” he giggles, stealing another gentle kiss from you.

“Uh…hey folks,” a timid voice calls from the end of the aisle. You both break away, embarrassment clearly taking you over while you cover your face in your hands. A younger guy in a red t-shirt and khaki slacks waves awkwardly when he has both of your attention.

“Sorry to uh, to interrupt but, um – y’know, this is a family friendly store and we just – yeah, I’m sorry. You’re not in trouble or anything,” he offers, stumbling over his words.

“Thanks man,” Eddie says genuinely, giving him a wave back, “Sorry about that, just uh, caught up in the moment I guess. Baskets really do it for her, y’know?”

The guy nods, walking away when a small thwap of the back of your hand hits his chest.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you laugh, changing your voice to mock him, “Baskets really do it for her. Fuck all the way off.”

Eddie laughs with you, picking up the Target basket and placing it in your hand, “Look, I gotta pee so bad. Do you think you can man the aisles yourself while I go and take care of that?”

You nod, “Just text me when you’re done and I’ll tell you where I am, okay?”

“Cool,” he nods back, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek, “See you in a bit.”

hey, where are you at? easter stuff, i got distracted very godly of you

He bustles through the aisles, realizing now that you’re on the totally opposite side of the store than you were before. He spots you where all the candy is, your basket full of your toiletries. “Easter candy?” he asks.

“It’s the best holiday candy, easily,” you confess, “I know people will probably say Halloween since that’s the candy holiday, but dude, there’s something about Cadbury eggs.”

“Yeah?” he reaches out and takes the basket out of your hand gently, you don’t protest when he does, “Isn’t it supposed to be from the UK? Don’t they have better chocolate by proxy?”

“I think so,” you agree while Eddie strolls a little further down the aisle, “Have you ever had them?”

“I’m sure I have,” he says, fingers tracing over a chocolate bunny in a box, “I guess I’m more of a Halloween guy.”

“Boring,” you sing, holding two small bags of Cadbury eggs in your hands. Eddie holds the basket in front of him while you gear up to toss one in.

“Kobe!” you shout, the candy leaving your fingers in a lay up toss, floating through the air only to fall at Eddie’s feet on the tile.

“Too soon,” Eddie shakes his head solemnly, reaching down to grab the chocolate and put it in the red basket in his arm, “How’re you gonna call out a legend’s name and then miss?”

“I feel like you moved it so that I’d miss,” you accuse playfully.

“I kept it exactly where it was, I think you’re just not very good at basketball,” he says, making his way towards you. You put the other bag in with the rest of your stuff and look up at him through half lidded eyes. He matches your gaze while he looks at you.

“You just don’t wanna see me be great,” you tease.

“Oh, stop,” he tutts, “You’re very great.”

Neither of you can help but kiss again. It feels natural to do it at this point.

“You get everything you need to get?” he asks against your lips. You nod, a little ‘mhm’ squeaks out of your throat, “Good, cause they can’t yell at us for making out in the parking lot. So we should head out of here soon.”

The remainder of the errands and lunch go by like a blur to him. Saturday meant busy restaurants so instead you opted for fast food in the parking lot, starting the drive home sharing Wendy’s waffle fries over the center console.

Before you pull out of the lot, he flicks your music on again, opting to just leave it on shuffle because he feels like he learns you better that way. What’s going to come up next that’ll surprise him? What’s he gonna find out about you?

‘Baby, I know you’re hurting, Right now you feel like you could never love again. Now all I ask, is for a chance, to prove, That I love you.’

Eddie barks out a laugh, takes a sip of his Sprite, and then laughs again, “Oh shit. I haven’t heard this song in years!”

“You know this song, too?” you ask, surprised again at his music repertoire.

“You really don’t think I’m cultured, do you?” he jokes, “I have a deep affinity for the Backstreet Boys, though I will admit I was an NSYNC boy myself growing up.”

“Of course,” you murmur with an eye roll, “What’s your favorite NSYNC song?”

“Ooh, let me see,” he thinks while he turns onto the highway, “Definitely Drive Myself Crazy. I’d always try to hit JC’s runs.”

“You knew their names too?”

“I told you already, I grew up in a trailer park. I had the same babysitter from two to eleven,” he explains, “Mrs. Grandy watched me until her daughter Summer turned thirteen and then I’d go and pal around with her and her friends. I was like her little brother, I practically lived there.”

“Were you always there?” you ask, “At your babysitter’s house?”

“Yeah. My uh, my mom died when I was seven but she was always working and tryna stay out of the house when my dad came home so I was always at the sitters. He’s y’know – he’s in jail but he was in and out of it when I was a kid, too. Got arrested for beating on her a couple months before she died and my uncle moved up from North Carolina to take care of me. But he worked nights so – if I wasn’t at school I had to have someone watch me while he slept and then someone had to be at the trailer while I slept. It was way easier when I was in school – but anyway – wow – off topic there – yes, I spent a lot of time with my babysitter and her mom,” he finishes.

“I’m sorry,” you offer, reaching over to give his knee a reassuring squeeze.

“No, don’t be. It’s okay. I’m okay – I turned out pretty cool, I think,” he shrugs.

“You’re really cool,” you smile, Eddie smiles back.

“What’s your favorite Backstreet Boys song?” he asks.

“Hey Mr. DJ, easy,” you tell him, “It’s the most fucknasty song they’ve ever made and it still holds up. Like, I want it played at my wedding. I’m trying to make a child to that song.”

Eddie loses it at fucknasty, head falling back on the headrest while his chest bounces, “The most fucknasty song? We’ll have to play that next.”

“You won’t be disappointed,” you say, “AJ sings it and he was my favorite.”

“Oh, baby, that does not surprise me at all,” he grins. Calling you baby sounds comfortable now, even after just talking for a week. He’s not sure how fast or slow these things are supposed to go, but your little smile every time he says it makes him wanna say it more.

“I saw them in concert, when I was like, nine or ten or something,” Eddie says, “For their Millenium Tour – was when I Want It That Way was huge.”

“You got tickets?” you ask, a teasing grin splitting your face.

“Summer was a huge Backstreet Boys and NYSNC fan, like, posters all over her room. Had every magazine they were in that she could find, everything. So all we would do when she would watch me was listen to them and talk about them, so I liked them because she liked them and I thought she was cool,” he starts.

“So anyway, she finds out on the radio that they’re giving away tickets to a show in Columbus – cause like, no one fucking comes to Indiana to play shows – and she calls in and wins! She literally went into shock. But we ended up going and she brought me instead of her friend because she was like ‘Mom, he’s family’. Which as an adult, makes me fucking melt y’know? But as a kid I was like ‘Damn you’re gonna drag me to Ohio to see a boy band? I wanna see Tool.’”

“Not Tool!” you laugh.

“But it was cool cause we got to stay in a hotel for a night and all that other shit. It felt really special, her mom got us t-shirts which I’m sure cost her a fortune but – damn. I had a lot of fun.”

“It sounds like you did.”

“The most crazy thing though – which I’ve never told anyone so, I hope you feel special – was when I saw them perform, I thought like, ‘Wow, I wanna do this when I grow up.’ So in a way, if it wasn’t for the Backstreet Boys, I would’ve never realized I wanted to be a rockstar,” he confesses, “And I mean, obviously I was really into rock, and metal, and folk-punk stuff ‘cause of Wayne, but seeing those guys on stage? Everyone screaming? I was like ‘Damn, I wanna be up there! I wanna be shredding up there!’”

“I love that,” you reply, a warm smile spread across your face while you watch him relive the memory in his head.

He shrugs, “It was a cool dream to have but, I don’t know. That ship has long sailed.”

“What do you mean? Long sailed? You can still be a rockstar,” you argue, a fry crunching soft between your teeth.

He shakes his head, slight defeat caressing his tone, “No I can’t. I’m too old now.”

“Too old? Shut up,” you assert through a mouthful of waffle fry, “Metallica’s still out there playing. Iron Maiden is literally on tour right now. And they’re all like – in their sixties for fuck’s sake.”

“Okay?” he huffs back, the red from the hazard lights of the car in front of you flashes against his face, “And? They all got famous when they were like, twenty or younger. I’m fucking…thirty-two.”

“Exactly! You’re only thirty-two,” you exclaim while he rolls to a stop at a red light. Your hand reaches out to squeeze his arm, “You have so much time. You can literally be a rockstar whenever.”

Eddie’s chest gets tight when you say that – it had been a while since he heard that type of encouragement. He’d missed the feeling of someone cheering him on from the bar while he was on stage, Chrissy’s praise when they’d get home. Wayne calling to tell him he saw a review of their set in the paper. Lately the shows felt sad to him, he felt lonely, even though he was always the happiest when he could make it on that stage.

“You can’t be saying shit like that to me,” he says knowingly, maneuvering his arm so that he can take your hand in his.

“Why not?” you ask, your voice holding a hint of sullenness that breaks his heart. He kisses your knuckles before resting his and your hand on your thigh, the light changing to green.

“‘Cause you’re gonna make me fall in love with you.” Your eyes cast down at his hand on your thigh, your smile tight, stretching painfully across your cheeks, “Oh, okay. I’ll be meaner if that’s not what you’re going for.”

“It’s definitely what I’m going for,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand softly.

The mood in the car shifts to comfortable silence, I’ll Never Break Your Heart fading out into the opening croons of Leon Bridges’ Coming Home. You lean your head on the window, looking at the cars passing you on the highway, the light flecks of rain hitting the glass as the car keeps its speed. Eddie lets go of your hand, palm stretching over the mass of your thigh, running soothingly up and down on your leggings. His thumb rubs soft and slow over the outside of your quad, he just wants to touch you. It’s a comforting touch, no implications other than – I like being here with you right now.

‘The world leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, girl. You're the only one that I want, Wanna be around. Wanna be around, girl, Wanna be around, girl, Ooh, wanna be around, girl...’

“I like this,” Eddie says, his voice soft, “Who is this?”

“Leon Bridges,” you answer, “The whole album is so good. It honestly sounds even better on vinyl.”

“I was just about to say, I bet it sounds great on vinyl,” he enthuses, “I like the old timey vibe.”

“It’s cozy, right?” you ask.

“Very cozy,” he nods, tossing a look over to you. Your eyes are heavy lidded, breath steady in your chest, “You gettin’ sleepy?”

“Kinda,” you yawn, “You’re not boring me or anything, I promise.”

“That’s okay,” he offers you a soft pat on the thigh, returning back to the slow back and forth that was putting you to sleep, “We’ll be home soon-ish, just take a nap.”

You frown, “You sure? Am I being lame?”

“Nah, you’re not being lame,” he assures. Your eyes flutter closed, the warm cascade of his hand continues while they do.

After a long stretch of highway, Eddie turns the car into your part of town, a sadness washing over him that he has to drop you off and then go home to his apartment for the remainder of this rainy evening. For a flicker of a moment he wants to be selfish and ask if you wanna just kick it at his house, but he knows you have stuff to do before this trip. Envy seeps into his sadness that your boss gets to spend so much time with you, gets to watch you laugh, gets to watch you solve problems, gets to watch you do anything all day. Is it healthy to feel like this so quickly? I don’t know her like that, he wonders, Is it that sort of thing where like, if you know you know? Or am I being kind of insane right now?

“What’d I miss?” you ask, rising from your mini-nap in the car. You frown when you see your surroundings, so much closer to home than you hoped.

“A few showtunes and Mariah’s Vision of Love,” he says, your sleepy voice tugging on his heart and lips, “I’m partial to My All but that’s cause I’m a professional sad boy.”

“My All is on there, but it’s probably good I was out for Vision of Love – you didn’t have to hear me screlting it in the small confines of this car,” you laugh.

“Do you sing?” he asks. You shake your head no.

“I did musicals in high school, as you can see by the showtunes,” you explain, “But I wouldn’t call myself much of a singer.”

“I’m sure I’ll find out if that’s true sooner or later,” he offers. It’s part way through Good Charlotte’s Girls & Boys, volume low so he didn’t disturb you sleeping.

“This song makes me laugh,” you say, he feels your hand find his, still sitting firm on your lap. You play with his rings, twirling them around his fingers, he swallows hard.

“Like, so many songs that came out around this time, even a couple years after – now they just sound like women’s empowerment.”

“Tell me more,” he says, turning onto your street, the ache creeping back up again.

“Like, ‘Girls don’t like boys, girls like cars and money.’ Is that supposed to be a dig? Of course I like cars and money – I’m a person. ‘Paper or plastic, don’t matter, she’ll have it.’ Like it’s a bad thing! Sounds like she’s thriving, he’s paying for everything and she didn’t even ask him to, she’s just sitting there looking hot!” you continue, “Sounds like a dream to be honest!”

“Yeah!” he nods, mulling it over in his head, “Fuckin’ – good for her!”

“I’m happy for her!” you laugh, he laughs with you. It’s nice to laugh so much with you, he likes that you’re sort of goofy in your own right. He pulls up to your house, pulling in to park in front of the walk way. Both of your laughs quiet down, you both look at the house through your window and the air in the car changes.

“I don’t wanna go,” you frown, shoulders slumping, “I wanna keep hanging out.”

“I know,” he says gently, “I wanna keep hanging out, too – but you got stuff you need to get ready for tomorrow.”

“I know,” you scrunch your nose, “So stupid.”

“So stupid,” he agrees, “How dumb that you have to go to a really cool expo where the weather’s nice.” “Well when you put it like that,” you say with a tilt of your head and a smile.

“Let me get your stuff out of the trunk,” he offers, getting out of the car into the smattering of rain. He pops the trunk and grabs your bags, coming over to your side to open your door for you.

“Here,” he says, offering you your toiletries, Old Navy exchange (and a few other purchases), and a Sephora bag with definitely more than just your boss’s sunscreen in it. You thank him and lean in for a kiss but he grins, turning away from you to go back to the trunk, “Sorry, forgot a bag.”

He reappears with the trunk closes, another Target bag in his hands that he passes to you. The weight reveals what it is before you look, but you peek to be sure, “Ed…”

“I didn’t really have to pee,” he confesses, “You just really liked it and you looked so sad when you put it back so, you know, I just wanted to do something nice.”

“It’s really nice,” you smile, looking down at the green Casaluna blanket nestled in the bag, “I just don’t want to like…feel like I owe you something.”

“No, no, no,” he hurriedly shakes his head, “Please don’t feel like that. This really was just like – it’s not like a power move or anything I’m not like that, I promise – I don’t want anything in return, seriously.”

“Except maybe a picture when it’s all set up nice in your living room,” he grins. Your eye rolls make his heart flutter because so far, you always kiss him after you do it and this time is no exception.

“I’ll see you when I come back,” you say, wincing as the rain starts to pick up. “You act like you’re going to war, sugar,” he teases, “Like you’re not gonna text me in five minutes.”

“Ew, bye,” you scowl, giving him a peck before hustling up the walkway to find refuge on the covered porch.

“Bye,” he calls out, bottom lip tucking between his teeth in the afterglow of another good date. He gets back in the car and waits for you to get in safely before driving away towards his own apartment. At a red light, his phone goes off, just five minutes since he’s pulled away. He opens his texts, a full belly laugh barking from his mouth. it looks great in my living room. oh shit it’s only been five minutes. 😡 fuck you.

By day two of your trip, Eddie was already homesick for you. Savoring every message you could send his way when you weren’t busy, but also trying his best not to text you back immediately so he didn’t seem needy. Or worse, desperate. He liked it the most when you’d send pictures: big pink quartz bathtubs, amethyst arm chairs, huge chunks of malachite that were the size of his hand.

these would make cool dice for d&d, right? the coolest. you should buy that and then hand carve the dice for me. let me pull a grand out of my ass real quick so i can get to work on that. so needy. oh, so you miss me? of course i do :) i miss you, too :)

“So when’re we gonna meet your mystery girlfriend?” Robin asks, swirling her rum and coke with her straw, “Or does she go to a different school in Canada that we wouldn’t know about?”

Steve snickers with Robin, two mean girls who always mean girl together. It was a Tuesday, which meant Robin and Steve would meet up for Happy Hour at a bar near Nancy’s office for the paper and then bother everyone else to come meet them until everyone showed up. The three sat at the corner of the bar, Steve in the center in his business casual. Patagonia vest over his blue button up, hair perfectly windswept with his sunglasses tucked into his t-shirt collar. Picture perfect finance bro with his mean lesbian guard dog to bark at any woman who might hurt his feelings. Eddie was convinced that if Robin wasn’t gay, they would’ve gotten married the day that they met.

“Well she’s not my girlfriend yet, for one,” Eddie starts, defensively, “And if you wanna know if she’s real, here’s her Instagram.”

He passes his phone to Robin who swipes through your photos with a nod, a smile pulling across her face, “Not bad at all, Munson.”

“Let me see,” Steve demands with a slight whine, plucking the phone from her hand. He scrolls, a touch of a salacious smirk spreading across his face, “Oh, smash. Immediately smash.” Steve passes Eddie’s phone back to him on the table, screen open to a risque picture of you on the beach, “You didn’t fuck?”

“Not yet, Harrington,” Eddie sighs, “I’ll be sure to let you know the moment I slip it in, okay?”

“I’m just saying,” Steve shrugs, “I would’ve fucked her already.”

“Yeah, we know loverboy,” Robin teases. Eddie’s shoulders tense a little because if Steve wanted you, he’d definitely be able to take you. He’s hot and charismatic, he has more money than he knows what to do with, and at the end of the day – Steve loves women. All kinds of women. Eddie swore Steve would leave college with a taste for thin blondes that were in his frat’s sister sorority but every night it was someone new. And every night, Steve Harrington got what Steve Harrington wanted.

“Tell her to follow me,” Steve winks.

“It’s the first thing I did when I met her, actually – told her to follow you,” Eddie jokes back.

what’re you doing? happy hour with the group. well right now just rob and steve but everyone else is on the way. fun! i bought a new bathing suit at a vendor because i have bad impulse control. also look at these cool rocks. oh, sick – what kind are they? the vendor said they’re ocean jasper do you want one? will you get a matching one with me? also linger is playing at the bar right now and it’s…making me think about you? stupid as hell. absolutely will get us matching ones. i love that song. who said you could be this cute? pretty sure i did. steve says hi by the way, he’s ‘linger’ing over my shoulder. lmao you’re so corny “Is she gonna send you a picture of her in the bathing suit or not?” he asks impatiently. “She’s still working, man,” Eddie flips his phone over so the screen can’t be seen, “And even if she does, I’m not gonna show it to you.” “Yeah, don’t be such a perv Steve,” Robin sasses, “Get me another rum and coke instead.”

After an hour, the rest of the group has made it and Eddie’s had three beers in a short span of time. Not enough alcohol to feel drunk, but enough alcohol that he keeps getting lost in the thought of your thighs on that barstool last week. The little overflow of your tummy in your jeans, your hips, what you might look like out of those jeans. What sounds you might’ve made if he went to your house after Target and he peeled those leggings off you. You’re busy and he’s bummed out about it only because he selfishly wishes you were here at happy hour instead of looking at cool rocks. “You look so sad right now,” Tatianna says from across the table the group has gathered round, “You miss your girl?”

Eddie pouts dramatically, nodding, “I do.” “Guys this is the one, I’ve never seen him like this before,” Tatianna grins, “He’s down bad.”

Tati reaches next to her to hold hands with Gareth giving it a squeeze, “Hinge is the truth, I’m telling you.”

“I mean, you sure? He thought Chris was the one and look how that turned out,” Mike says from the other end. Everyone sighs and groans, whines of ‘C’mon Wheeler,’ sound out of a few of them.

“When you know, you know, kid,” Gareth offers softly, “And I think Ed knows.”

“When’re we gonna meet this girl who likes your nerdy ass?” Erica giggles next to him. “Exactly what I was saying earlier,” Steve adds.

“I don’t think you need to meet her, Steve,” Dustin laughs, “Let him have something, for God’s sake.” “Well,” Nancy starts, “I mean, Steve’s party at Barcade is next week. Might be a good sort of low stakes way to ease her in.”

“That’s actually such a good idea,” Tatianna agrees.

“But I have the jazz concert for my kids that night,” Eddie sulks.

“Yeah but that ends at like, eight thirty,” she argues, “You should tell her to come. We’ll take care of her before you show up.” “I’ll take realgood care of her, Munson,” Steve grins.

“Steve.”

Eddie’s head is down on his forearms so he doesn’t know how many people started scolding Harrington over his head. This was overwhelming again – this part. Eddie thought maybe all the fussing over starting to date would be the worst but now it’s every day that they ask about you. At least twice a day in the group chat – Your girl coming to D&D? How was your date last weekend? Is she with you right now? Tell her we all said hi. Are you gonna bring her to Tati’s art show?

He doesn’t have all the answers yet and he doesn’t know where you’re at either. Do you want to meet his friends? Would you even like them?

Everyone yelling at Steve is satisfying, but it would be cooler if you were here to see it.

The following night he was up late grading papers he should’ve graded a week ago but he was too caught up in his personal life to care. Conversation with you had dwindled quickly last night as he spent more time at the bar and ended up planning the next campaign. You hadn’t reached out at all today and he felt too proud to be the one to text you first, a twinge of resentment plucking at his heart strings in his chest. Hollow loneliness drumming at his ribcage.

The papers were graded, neatly stacked and put away in his bag for tomorrow, red pen capped and put back on his desk. Eddie groans as he stands up to stretch, peeling off his t-shirt and slipping off his sweatpants, tossing them haphazardly in the corner of the room by his hamper. He kicks off his socks, finally comfortable in his boxers and silver chain, before trudging down to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He comes back to a quiet buzz on his phone, screen glowing to life while he swipes it off his dresser.

hey, sorry i was so MIA today. things got really busy and hectic, surprise zoom meeting with bloomingdale’s and then a second surprise offer call with bergdorf goodman and then a few vendors wanted to get dinner and schmooze. it’s no excuse honestly but i should’ve messaged you to let you know i was busy. i’m sorry, handsome :( thought about you all day if that helps

Eddie’s heart leaps in his chest, cheeks already hurting from the smile splitting his face open. You thought about him all day. You thought about him all day. The same way he thinks about you all day. He climbs into bed, snuggling in under the covers with the glow of his phone illuminating his grinning face in the dark.

don’t apologize, sweetheart, i know you’re busy. glad that your hectic day is over at least, now you can relax! thought about you all day, too. one of my kids kept trying to play juicy by doja cat on the sax at jazz practice, so you came to mind immediately. LMAO. i’ll take that as a compliment. what’re you doing up so late? grading papers, but i’m done now. i’d ask why you’re up so late but it’s only nine thirty there. what’re you up to? trying this bathing suit on, finally. do you wanna see it?

“Do I wanna see it?” he murmurs, exasperated with an eye roll to no one, “Of course I wanna see it.”

yeah, show me :)

He waits with bated breath, trying his best to swipe out of the text conversation and do something else instead of counting the minutes until you reply. His heart hammers in his chest while he waits for the familiar buzz in his hand.

And there you are, dark red spandex hugging you tight, cinching you in all the right places. His eyes linger on the high cut of the bottom, the way some of the pudge of your hips pokes out at the seams and he bites his lip. ‘Fuck,’ he mumbles quietly. Your thighs on full display for him, thick and begging for him to grab, you’re so fucking grabbable he can’t even stand it.

jfc you know what you’re doing whaaaaat? what do you mean? ‘what do you meaaaannn 🤪’ you know what i mean. do you not like it? i like it a little too much you wanna see it from the back?

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters into the darkness. He feels the blood rush to his pelvis like an army command, cock partially at attention while his hand palms delicately over his boxers.

of course i do

He gulps when the picture comes in, you posed like that on purpose. One ass cheek propped up on the bathroom counter, the other lifted and perky from your stance. The soft rolls of your back on display from how you’re turned to still have your pretty face in frame. He’d fucking wreck you. Lovingly, of course.

do you want me to hop on a flight or?? how much are tickets to az? i’m about to come thru. you got enough blood in your brain to make that trip rn? lmao you know i don’t 😏 sorry i’m all the way in a different state, i’d help take care of it.

“Yeah?” he chokes out, palming turning to full slow strokes over the fabric, “You wanna take care of it for me?”

yeah? you’d take care of it? only if you asked nicely :)

“Fuck,” he whispers, tossing his phone down to reach for his side table drawer to reach for the tiny bottle of lube he kept there. He tugs down his boxers hastily, squirting some of the liquid in his palm before picking up the phone again with his clean hand.

i’d ask very nicely. i’d even say please. what a good boy. :)

“M’such a good boy,” he huffs, hand wrapping tightly around the base of his cock and dragging upwards, “I’ll be so good for you.”

would you want me to use my hands or my mouth?

“Oh my fucking God,” he groans, brain short circuiting at the thought of you on your knees while he stands over you. Eyes looking up at him with a hand tangled up in your hair, desperately trying to not thrust deep into your throat while you go to work on him. He bites his lip while he fucks his fist, palm and fingers gliding in time with his foreskin, teasing his tip. A fire lights in his belly, cooking up thoughts in his head on how he’d want you first.

i like the idea of keeping your mouth full oh you wanna shut me up? is that it? i don’t think it takes much.

His head leans back on the wall behind his bed, eyes closing while his hips roll up to meet the speed of his hand, slower now to stave it off.

“Yeah, suck it just like that…” he hums out, “Please more.” His brows pinch while he looks back at the picture you sent, your glossed lips gleaming back at him. They’d look so good around his cock, your eyes would look so good filled up with tears when you tried to deep throat him.

“T-take all of it,” he stammers out, unsure of his own dirty talk to himself. Would he actually say that?

Bzz. Bzz.

oh yeah cause you’re soooo big 🙄

“Psh,” he hisses out with a roll of the eyes, hand lifting off his cock to type back. He guesses when it comes to you, he would say that. Just so you’d stop being such a brat.

you’re gonna feel so stupid when you see it you sound very confident because i am is it big?

He looks down at himself confidently, laying fat and dense up his stomach, kicking up at the thought of you seeing it for the first time. Chrissy always gawked at it, despite how many times she’d seen it, it was always like she was seeing it for the first time. The girls he’d pull into the bathroom at The Hideout and other bars would whine at the sight. Both him and them slurring together about how they can make it fit.

its big, sweetheart. but i think you can take it. i know i can take it. so sure of yourself tonight, huh? bet you wouldn’t be so cocky if you were here. so i could watch you jerk it in your bedroom? puhlease. 🙄 i can tell by how you’re talking that you really like the idea of that. so you are jerking it in your bedroom? the same way i know you have your fingers between your pretty thighs

He doesn’t know that, but it was worth the shot. His mind reels, thinking of you barely changing out of your swimsuit into nothing to lay back on your hotel bed to touch yourself to him talking to you. He grunts when his hand wraps around his length again, fisting himself with more intention, thinking about your hips writhing in time with his. He wishes he knew how you sounded when you felt good, how you’ll sound when he makes you feel good. And god does he wanna make you feel good.

🙈 stop yeah? i can stop. don’t actually, i’m just embarrassed 😩 how come? cause i do have my fingers between my thighs

“Fuuuuuck me,” he groans into a whimper. He shudders a gasp while his hips buck up to meet his hands thrusts, imagining you on top of him, under him, below him, above him. Mouth, hands, pussy, anything of yours bobbing over his cock. Wiping the images clean and starting over with you splayed out on the hotel bed again, trying to keep quiet so your boss won’t hear you through the hotel’s thin walls.

does it feel good, sweetheart? it would feel better if you were doing it for me. can i call you?

“Can I call you?” he reads out loud, in a whisper, “Can I…call you…”

absolutely.

Your face pops up on his phone within the minute, phone buzzing rhythmically in his hands. His heart rate jerks alive, stomach dropping like he’s on a roller coaster while it continues to ring.

He accepts, swallowing thickly as he does.

“Hey there,” he murmurs.

“Hi,” your voice is shaky on the other end, he holds back a moan.

“Hi,” he says back to you, squeezing himself softly at the base again.

“Do you wanna hear something embarrassing?” you laugh, following up with a soft needy sigh.

“Always,” he swoons out, low and warm.

“Your voice is so hot to me,” you giggle, “I don’t think I could finish if I didn’t hear it.”

“Ah, there you go again, thinking your compliments to me are embarrassing,” he smirks. You sigh again and he lets out a heady breath while he strokes himself, teetering towards a climax.

“Sorry,” you smile, and he can hear it in your voice, “You having a hot voice isn’t embarrassing. Me getting off to it is embarrassing.”

He pauses, hearing your shallow breaths pick up, waiting for the right time to strike. His thumb trails over his tip to smear the precum oozing out of it over the head — his eyes roll back as he thinks about your tongue there instead.

“S’not embarrassing,” his eyelids lower, settling deeper into his pillows. He groans low in his chest before speaking again, “You all wet for me, sugar?”

“Yeah,” you whine to him.

“Wish I could be there to take care of you,” he huffs, “I’d make you feel so good.”

“How?” you ask breathily.

He smirks, biting his lower lip, letting out a low laugh, “I’d take my time with you. Sounds like you get real needy.”

“I’m not needy,” you protest.

“Not needy, but calls me from the other side of the country to cum to my voice?” he argues playfully, “Oh yeah, not needy at all, baby.”

You whine again, a few huffs of breath sound in the receiver.

“You like that?” he asks lowly, “When I’m a little mean to you?”

“Yeah…”

“Fuck…” he whispers back, blood rushing to the tip, twitching while he works his hand up his shaft.

“Wait – are you actually jacking it right now?” you ask with a laugh.

“Yeah,” he sighs back, “Are you surprised?”

“How long have you been doing it?”

“Since you sent me that picture with your whole ass out,” he confesses with a giggle, it just makes sense to him to answer honestly.

“Is that how you wanna fuck me?” your voice is laced with depth and sex, his hips buck up at the sound, “From the back?”

“Maybe not at first,” he starts, imagining he’s in the hotel with you, eyes locking on yours while you touch yourself. Meeting your pleading eyes with a salacious grin while he pumps his cock, climbing on top of the mattress. Climbing on top of you.

“I’d probably want you on your back so I could see your pretty face,” he offers, “Watch you take it.”

You sigh into the receiver again and he groans quietly while pleasure starts taking him over.

“But if I’m being honest…” he starts again, voice lightly teasing. Your breaths pick up, and if he thinks he’s hearing right, you’re very wet. Just because of him, the way he’s talking to you. He shudders before regaining his composure, voice dropping dangerously low.

“I can’t wait to get my mouth on that pussy,” he slurs out, drunk on the idea.

“Mmm, fuck,” you mewl out. Okay Munson, maybe you still know how to do this shit. “Oh, you like the sound of that, huh?” he asks, a light raise to his voice, “You like thinking about me between your legs?”

“Yes,” you huff through gritted teeth. He feels his orgasm creeping up on him quick, your little whines hitting his ear and gliding down his chest to his pelvis. Every soft puff of your breath feels like he’s the one making it punch out of you.

“I know you’d take it so good, too. You’d get so messy for me,” he groans again when his palm grazes over the underside of his tip, cock leaking cum unceremoniously, sending shockwaves through his system, “Just like you are right now, hm? Waiting for me to come over ‘n’ fuck you stupid?” “Please,” you whine into a growl, “Please fuck me stupid.”

“Oh baby, I will,” he moans while he feels his balls tighten, closer and closer to the edge, hearing you pant and beg like that. Just for him. He grunts, breath huffing from his nose like a bull while his orgasm takes him over, cum shooting onto his belly in thick ropes, “F-fuck till you can’t fuckin – mmmf – can’t fuckin’ think.” “Oh! Oh my god, fuck. Fuck!” you cry out into the receiver. He grins, satisfied at that reaction, both of you taking deep breaths into your mics while you both come down.

“Did you cum for me, sugar?” he drawls.

“Mhm,” you squeak out. His grin doesn’t fade, it turns dirty, filthy, “Good girl.”

“Don’t say that.” He can hear your embarrassed smile in your voice, it makes him laugh. He’s normally not like that, that’s not something he thinks he’s ever said in bed – at least not sober.

“I won’t say it, I’m sorry. You don’t like that?” he asks thoughtfully.

“I like it a lot and you’re too far away,” you say softly.

“Poor thing,” he offers.

“I am a poor thing!” you exclaim. You quiet down a little, both just listening to each other breathe on the other end, “I’m excited to see you again, when I come back.”

“I’m excited to see you, too,” he smiles while he speaks softly into the receiver, “But lucky for me, I have these pictures of you to hold me over until then.”

“Visual learner?” you tease. “Physical, too,” he counters.

“You really are trouble,” you laugh, “And um – I don’t want you to think that like, the only reason I wanna see you is just to have sex or anything. I just really like spending time with you.”

“I don’t think that at all,” he assures, “I really, really like spending time with you. I’m – and this is gonna sound super lame – but I’m excited to keep on getting to know you.”

“Lamest thing I’ve ever heard,” you laugh, “But also, same. We can be lame together.” “Oh – uh, by the way,” Eddie’s voice reverts back to normal while a reminder jolts his body awake, “The group really wants to meet you and I know it’s gonna be the day after you get back and you might want to rest, but Steve’s birthday party is Friday if you wanna come. Totally understand if you’re gonna be too tired.” “Oh no, I’d love that!” he can hear you shifting on the mattress, likely getting ready for bed, “Steve’s the one whose Instagram request I shouldn’t accept, right?” Eddie laughs, “Right.”

You both talk for a little longer before he tells you it’s getting late and you should get some rest since you had such a long day. He doesn’t want to hang up, but you’re both too old to be doing the ‘falling asleep on the phone’ thing. Plus, he had to be up for work in five hours.

Eddie slides into the seat on his Honda Civic and sighs – he’s tired. He doesn’t want to go to Steve’s party where everyone is gonna be loud and drunk by the time he gets there. He hates playing catch up, but you’re gonna be there so he’s doing his best to hype himself up before he starts the car. He cracks the Monster Energy sitting in his center console and chugs it, heaving a deep breath before starting the car. Mayhem’s Freezing Moon blares through his speakers and he nods to himself, Good, good, good. It would be a hype enough song to get him excited on the way there. He gives himself a once over in the rearview mirror, looking the same as he did when he freshened up in the teacher’s bathroom after the Jazz Club performed during the Spring Concert. His slim fit black slacks still kept their crease, his wallet chains still dangled from his pocket. Eddie took your advice and started wearing more green, a hunter short sleeved linen blend button up laid open and loose over a clean and expensive white t-shirt. If he didn’t know any better, he would say he looked hot. His hair was coiffed and coiled – he made sure to get a trim before you came back just to touch up the shag. His tattoos were the showiest you’d ever seen them and deeply moisturized, his silver chain and small rings were recently cleaned.

He wants you to lose your mind when you see him, but when he walks into the bar he knows he already lost. There you are, standing at the bar with Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Dustin while they laugh with you at some story you’re telling. You’re all legs in your little black skirt with a cute cropped ‘ARIZONA’ sweatshirt cinching you in right at the waist. Your little white sneakers were shining purple in the black light of the bar, you probably wear these everywhere.

“Eddie!” Dustin calls out, giving a big wave to call him towards the party. You whip around, beaming while he makes his way over, meeting him part way with a drink in your hand. He can smell your perfume immediately and he’s surprised he hasn’t already fallen to his knees. “Started without me, huh?” he asks, nodding to the drink in your hand. “I tried to get Steve a drink but he said it was a better gift for him to buy me one…or two,” you tell him sheepishly. Eddie catches Steve’s eyes over your shoulder when he pulls you in to say hello and shakes his head. Steve smirks, blowing him a kiss before mouthing, ‘Her ass? Insane.’ putting his hands out to show off the size of it. Eddie flips him off while he lets you go.

“Everyone’s been really nice though,” you smile, giving him a once over, “You look really good.”

“Thank you,” he says in your ear, kissing your cheek, “You look too good. Don’t think I can let you stick around here too long.”

“S’kinda hot when you’re like that,” you grin sloppily, biting your lip. The tequila’s blurring the filter in your head a little, he can tell you’re just saying what comes to mind, eyes a little glassy.

“Like what?” “A lil’ possessive,” you shrug. He tucks a knuckle under your chin, lifting your gaze toward him for a moment. “Okay,” he smiles, leaning in to kiss you much more passionately than you expected. Your mouth is cold against his, tongue sliding in to taste the tequila on yours. He snakes one arm around your waist so that you’re chest to chest, both of you laughing against each other’s lips while Tati and the group whoop and holler over your makeout. He breaks away, looking down at you, eyes sparkling.

“I missed you,” he says confidently.

“I missed you,” you smile, pulling him tight against you. This was what he was waiting for. An ounce of clinginess so that he didn’t feel so insane for wanting to be close to you all the time. He leads you back over to the bar, hand on your lower back while you put yourself back in your little group.

“What’re you having tonight, big boy?” Ed asks Steve, clapping him on the back in a brotherly hug.

“Surprise me – you doing shots?” he asks. Eddie nods, getting the bartender’s attention when she makes his way over.

“Can I get four shots of Jameson and then two for my buddy over here?” he asks, pointing at Steve with his thumb. The bartender nods, lining up the shot glasses and starting the pour. “I don’t really like Jameson,” you scrunch your nose.

“Well baby, they’re all for me, so don’t worry about it,” he grins playfully, white teeth shining, “I’ll get you something else when you finish that drink.”

You nod lazily, pulled into conversation with Robin while Steve and Eddie start taking their shots. The whiskey feels good hitting his throat, burning just enough to reinvigorate him for the rest of the night. He clicks his tongue when he downs them all, the scent of Tatianna’s vanilla perfume overtakes him before her hands cover his eyes from behind.

“Guess who it is,” she laughs.

“Someone who used my Warm Vanilla Sugar hand lotion today,” he answers, his fingers running over hers while he peels her hands away. He turns to her to pull her into a hug and then hugging Gareth behind her, already with their drinks in hand.

“Look, it went with the fragrance I was wearing today. You used my curl cream again so – you can’t even be mad,” she shrugs, beckoning him over with her hand, “Come sit with us really quick.”

Eddie turns to get your attention but Tatianna stops him, “She’s a big girl, she’s been doing fine on her own without you here, so far. Let her make friends.” Eddie pouts and Gareth pats him on the back after passing Tati’s drink to her, guiding him over to their booth close by the end of the bar. Eddie sits in the middle of the bench, looking like a kid who just got in trouble and is about to get a stern talking to by his parents. “So…” Eddie starts.

“I really like her, dude,” Gareth grins, “Came in and immediately knew who we were, introduced herself, offered to get us a round. All around seems very much your vibe.”

“And you, mom?” he asks, eyes lifting up through his lashes to look at Tatianna who has a smug grin on her face.

“All I’m saying is that you should always be listening to me when I tell you to do something,” she shrugs, “‘Cause what if you had deleted the app that night? Would’ve never met the love of your life right there.”

“Love of my life? You think?” he asks, eyes widening. “I know. Her energy is exactly what I thought it was gonna be,” Tatianna explains, gold rings in her twists flashing back the neon reflecting on them, “And you’ve been down bad for the past few weeks so I knew there had to be something about her that was really good.”

“So you like her?” Eddie grins.

“We love her,” Tatianna nods, “Consider her adopted.”

“Steve loves her too, it looks like,” Eddie huffs, looking back over at the bar to see Steve showing you something on his phone, a little too close for comfort.

“He’s behaving himself, don’t worry,” Dustin says while he slides in next to Eddie, “We all gave him a warning before she got here. Plus, he’s got two girls on his radar right now that he’s trying to take home if he doesn’t get too drunk – but y’know, we’re banking on the getting too drunk part.”

“Always banking on the getting too drunk part,” Gareth laughs.

The night continues on, people coming and going, getting up to dance, getting new drinks. He watches you blend in seamlessly, swaying with Tatianna at the bar while you wait for a rum and coke for you and water for him. He still has to drive home after all.

“What do you know about this song?” Tatianna laughs while Victoria Monet’s Coastin’ booms over the speakers. You both walk back over, two stepping in time until Gareth pulls Tatianna in tight to him, rocking back and forth with each other and stealing kisses.

Eddie watches you approach him while you lipsync the words playfully, hips swaying in in time with the beat.

‘Think of the waaaays, The ways I wanna give you this ass, Just how you liiiiike, Feel like a Thursday how I’m throwin’ it back.’ “The ways you wanna give me this ass, huh?” he smirks, eyes flitting over you while he takes the water yor offer him. You keep up with your sway, pressing up close to him – you look up with a fake unamused quirk of your brow and he knows you’re about to say something bitchy that’ll make him fall for you even harder. “I don’t think you could handle it,” you flirt.

“You know something?” he starts, putting his water on the table of the booth, catching you before you can sit down, “I think I can handle you just fine.” You burn at his words, a shy grin pulling at your lips when he sits down at the edge of the bench next to Nancy and across from Steve and Robin. It’s fun to flirt with you like this, right on the precipice of something a little dirty. He wants you so bad and if he knows women as well as he thinks he does, he knows you want him so bad, too. He pats his thigh, encouraging you to sit on his lap. You hesitate at first but he nods encouragingly, a silent Please, it’s okay. You settle in, the table high enough that both sets of your thighs fit under the table. He takes a breath before letting his hands settle on your skin, imagining what it might be like when he gets to put his hands on all of it.

Everyone banking on Steve getting too drunk to take someone home was right, him and Robin were already in their codependent best friend phase of the night where they only want to hang out with each other, hands cupped tight on the table. You’re talking to Robin about a game that’s like Sims but 8-bit –

“It’s called Unpacking and it’s so cute, you basically unpack a house or a room and you learn more about the person’s story by unpacking their boxes – sort of like Sims but with actual feelings that you don’t have to make up,” you enthuse.

“Is it on Steam?” she asks, “I’ll literally buy it right now.”

“We’re partying, Rob, don’t play a dumb game,” Steve whines.

“She’s not gonna play it right now, Steve,” Nancy chides, “She’s gonna play it later. Don’t worry, we all know tonight is about you.”

Lucas comes over to the table looking aggravated, Max grinning next to him in a smile that Eddie knows too well. Lucas lost a bet and has to pay up, Eddie wonders what they bet on this time.

“Why does your Dragon’s Lair score have to be so fucking high? Can you literally let anyone have anything?” Lucas huffs.

“Don’t be so sad, Sinclair – you can always try to beat Red’s score,” Eddie shrugs, smirking smugly at the pair.

“She’s 250 points behind you, and you’re both like, seven thousand points ahead of everyone else,” he huffs.

“What’d’you owe her this time?” he asks.

“I can’t even tell you out loud,” he sighs. Max cackles, offering her hand and leading him back over to the Party at the bar, fingers laced with each other while they talk. Eddie adjusts under you, groin shifting under your ass by accident but he savors how delicious it feels to have you on top of him like this.

“Are there any other games in there that you have a high score on?” you ask, breath hitching slightly while his hands coast teasingly over your bare skin under the table. Your posture straightens when his fingers glide up your inner thigh, brushing his fingertips past the hem of your skirt. You like that, he thinks, your body language tells him all he needs to know to keep going.

“The Dracula pinball machine,” he replies confidently.

“I’m gonna go beat it,” you grin up at him.

“Oh yeah?” he asks, hand sliding off your thigh when you get up to head to the arcade room, “You even know how to play?”

“You can show me,” you shrug. He doesn’t really have to show you, pinball is pretty self explanatory, but he doesn’t want to give up a chance to have you alone. He leads you to the machine, pointing out where you want the ball to hit for the best chance at extra points. The music on the sound system is loud and the machine’s music matches it so he has to get close to your ear to explain.

“Do you think I don’t really know how to play or do you just wanna get close to me?” you ask, turning your head to look at him while he chin hooks over your shoulder. “You caught me,” he blushes, hand resting on your hip while he fills the gap between your back and his chest, “I’m sure you’re gonna do just fine.”

And you do, in fact, you’re really fucking good at pinball and he’s almost mad about it. “Where did you learn to do this?” he asks after you rack up nearly three fourths of his high score in one go, the ball just narrowly missing the lever before sinking down to be propelled again.

“Summers on the boardwalk in New Hampshire,” you grin, “My uncle lives over there so we go visit him every year. Played one pinball machine every summer – my high score still stands, like, eleven years later.” “That’s so hot to me, oh my god,” he laughs while you get the next ball rolling onto the board. You lean forward, hips jutting out against him while you really get into it, concentrating hard. Eddie’s breath hitches when you slowly move your hips against him, so slow that he’s not sure if you’re doing it on purpose or not. Rihanna’s Work starts over the speakers and that’s when he knows it’s on purpose. Your movement’s pick up a little, lost in the game and in the beat. You’re a good dancer and that makes his mind wander to other things you might be good at. Your fingers work quick on either side of the machine, lights flashes against both of your faces while you keep trying to win and he keeps trying to not pull your skirt up in the middle of Barcade.

While the song continues, he stops paying attention to you playing, so caught up in how your waist winds and ass bounces against him that he doesn’t realize you aren’t even playing any more. His hips grind slowly back against you, one hand on your lower back, the other gripping your hip to keep you in position. This isn’t new territory for him, pulled into clubs by Tati and Gare, Robin and Steve, everyone else, from the moment things opened back up again in Indiana. When you look back at him he short circuits at first, but he knows you’re surprised he can dance like this. Maybe you forgot, but he does teach Music Theory – rhythm is kind of his whole thing. Of course he has it.

Your hips roll, making your ass run painstakingly slow and firm over his hardening cock. A groan gets stuck in his throat, reaching out to your shoulder to pull you up right again with your back against his chest.

“You like bein’ a tease?” he asks, voice deep and daunting.

“Just getting you back for what you did under the table,” you say matter-of-factly, turning around to face him with your butt leaning against the machine, “You’re not the only one here who knows how to be a slut.” “Also, I beat you,” you grin.

“Looks like you did,” he says, eyes passing yours to look at the new high score glowing on the outdated screen.

“Do I win a prize?”

“M’sure I can think of something,” he murmurs, lips pressing against yours while both of your eyes flutter closed. He takes your hand, leading you to the dark corner close by, both of you hidden by the now defunct change machine to press you up against the wall. “What do you think you deserve?” he purrs before catching your mouth in his again. His kiss is a little sloppy, a little needy, it’s the four shots of Jameson. Not too drunk to drive, but buzzed enough that he doesn’t care about his kissing technique, he just wants to taste you. “Oh, it’s like that?” you giggle mischievously, “I don’t think we can do what I think I deserve in a public place.”

“Hmm, okay, not into exhibitionism I guess,” he huffs a laugh while his kisses trail to your neck, knee slotting between your legs where you eagerly press up against him. He feels one of your hands fall into his hair, making his assault on the crook of your neck more intense when you give it a slight pull. “Kiss me,” you whine softly. “M’sorry, sorry,” he smirks, meeting your lips again, “You just smell really good, I like being in there.” “You’re a really good –” Kiss. “Mmm--kisser.” “Thanks, sugar, you’re –” Kiss. “Not so bad your –” Kiss. “Mmm shit – yourself.” He can barely think like this, so close to you but not close enough. Hands on your waist and hips to guide you against part of his thigh while a little whine pulls out of you. He can’t hold off much longer, feeling his pants grow unbearably tight.

“Let’s get out of here,” he mumbles against your jaw, a satisfied smile blooms on his face when you roll your hips against his knee again.

“You don’t wanna hear everyone drunkenly sing Steve happy – oh, mmm – happy birthday?” you pant out while he presses kisses at the curve of your jaw back to your mouth. His hand entwines with the hair at the nape of your neck, giving you a soft tug to keep your head in place.

“The only thing I wanna hear right now,” he purrs in your ear, “Is what you sound like when I’m making you cum.”

The ride home is quick, barely saying goodbyes while he pulled you through the crowds building at the bar and paid the tab. Gareth shot him a wink as they left, tossing you both a wave but neither of you could think of anything else except each other.

He dropped his keys twice trying to get in the door of his first floor apartment, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” you smile, “Just breathe. I’m still gonna be here.”

The door opens and he takes a millisecond to rip your coat off and kick off his shoes, instructing you to kick off your sneakers or Tati would likely emerge from the walls and kill you both for walking into the house with your outside shoes on. His lips immediately attach to yours. There’s no time to waste for him, pulling you over to the couch and plopping down with an excited puff of breath. “C’mere baby,” he beckons you over with two fingers, grinning up at you while you climb over his lap to straddle him. His kiss is searing, hands exploring you with abandon, all the ways he’s been thinking about touching you were now fair play. No one here to see either of you, no one around to interrupt. You can feel how hard he is under his dress pants, the material leaves little to the imagination. The gentle curve of it, its thickness, the length, all pressing up against you with every mutual roll of your hips.

You choke out a whimper when it hits just right up against your clothed slit. Eddie looks up at you mischievously, greedily sucking on your neck for a moment before catching your gaze a little.

“That’s all it takes? Just pushing my hips up like that?” he purrs, rolling them up again slowly, “Is that what you want?”

“Uh-huh,” you breathe. He bites at the skin on your chest, not hard enough to hurt. He grips and grabs you but not hard enough to bruise. He’s testing the waters, seeing what you like and how you like it. His hands travel down past your hips, gripping the fat of your ass.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans into your mouth, exploring you more, his palms flattening against your skirt while it rides up, the curve of your cheeks warm in his hands.

“Finally got to grab it the way you wanted to?” you tease between breaths.

“Mhmm,” he groans, “Now I just gotta smack it around.”

You take his lower lip between your teeth, making his cock twitch when you let it go to click back against his gums.

“Ooh, you wanna spank me?” you laugh into your next kiss. His hand reaches up to pull at your waist, pushing you tighter up against him. His fingers graze between your legs from behind while your head falls back in a breathy gasp.

“Do you want me to spank you?” he asks, brows raised inquisitively.

“Maybe not tonight,” you shrug with a smirk, hips winding over him in a way that makes him really feel you. He growls when you do it, hands guiding your hips to do it again, “Maybe only when I’ve been bad.”

“Jus’lemme know,” he grumbles, pupils taking over the brown in his eyes, “So I can — mmm, shit — teach ya a lesson.”

“Next time,” you huff into his next kiss. He manhandles you so that your back is to the cushions and throw pillows, switching your positions so that he’s on top.

“Next time,” he nods, pulling your sweatshirt off and dropping it to the floor, “But since you’re so good, it only makes sense that you get a reward, right?”

“I did beat you at pinball, so…” you grin. He grins back, kissing your neck hungrily, slotting his knee between your legs like he did at the bar.

“You did beat me at pinball,” he nods, a soft growl brewing in his chest when he feels you start to grind against him. Insatiable, he thinks, Greedy girl. But he doesn’t know if he can say that to you yet. He doesn’t know, all the way, what you like. He feels his heart hammer in his chest at the fear of realizing it – you aren’t Chrissy. What if he was only good because Chrissy thought so? What if he wasn’t actually –

“Oh!” you squeak out, hand reaching out to grip his bicep.

“Are you okay?” he asks, pulling away from your neck to look at you, big brown eyes blown with nerves.

“Y-yeah that’s just…where you’re kissing…that’s a spot for me,” you admit bashfully, unable to look at him.

“Sweetheart,” he shakes his head with a knowing smirk, “Shouldn’t’ve told me that.”

A kiss on the lips is his only consolation to you before he goes back to your neck, tongue trailing down to its last spot where he parks his teeth and lips. You like that. He hears you like it. And fucking God is it good to hear you like this, to hear you in person, moaning and whining in his ear just from kissing and sucking this spot on your neck.

“Eddie…” you breathe, high pitched and desperate, hips still pressing against his knee for friction. He can’t help but go back to your lips, but before he does, he peeks to see the marks he left behind.

Lips become neck, neck becomes chest, chest becomes stomach, stomach becomes hips, and before you know it he’s on his knees on the rug in front of you. Eddie’s eyes find yours when he’s kneeling between your legs, the center of your thighs looking him in the face. He places a kissing on the inside of your knee, gentle and soft.

He opens his mouth to ask, but you nearly read his mind, tugging up the hem of your skirt over your thick thighs. He helps, pushing the fabric up over your hips and ass so he gets another chance to touch and feel you. Once he settles back down he takes a breath, smiling up at you while he readjusts your legs to open a little wider, mouth making contact with your skin soon after. His lips capture the fat of your inner thigh, traveling down in passionate kisses, like your skin is divinity that he’s found for the first time.

“You’re so soft,” he whispers, lips ghosting over your underwear to reach the top of your other knee, planting a kiss there too.

“Thank you,” you breathe out. He lets out a low, teasing giggle at the state of you, head lolling back on the couch while he kisses the inside of one thigh and runs his hand over the outside of the other. His kisses stop and he looks up at you from between your legs, big brown eyes begging you to let him in. A ringed finger teases over the gusset of your underwear, the way you bite your lip gives him the approval to keep going. His slides your panties off, run of the mill black cheeky cut cotton that he wished he could’ve stripped you down to. Just to see that ass swallowing them, to see the way they sat on the curves of your hips.

“You nervous?” he asks with a smile while your legs close, your underwear placed on the floor next to your shirt.

“A little,” you giggle.

“Don’t be nervous, baby,” he coos, hands cupping under your knees to spread your legs again, “Just gonna make you feel good.”

He sighs when your legs open up for him, already wet and puffy, you’d been thinking about this all night. Eddie nips softly at your inner thigh again before he lets his lips linger over your folds. You squirm your hips closer to him, a whine leaking out of your mouth.

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, “I won’t tease you, I’m sorry.”

But he’s lying. Leaning in to get close, only to ghost a breath over your clit. Fingers sliding to your slick lips to separate them slightly for more access to you. He pauses, leaning back away from your pussy and looks up at you quizzically.

“Actually, should I put on Hey Mr. DJ to set the mood? Since it’s so fucknasty…” gesturing his thumb towards the sound system on the other side of the room. You let out a mix of a laugh and a groan while his kisses coast on your thighs again.

“You said you wouldn’t teaaaasssseeee-oh my God,” you moan out when his mouth meets your clit without warning, soft, slow sucks and licks.

“You like that, sugar?” he asks, voice dropping down to a bassy gravel.

You nod feverishly, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.”

“Mmm, don’t stop?” he asks, tongue gliding from your entrance to your clit.

“Please,” you gasp, hand reaching out to run through his hair, bangs pushing back to reveal the soft lines of his forehead.

“Well you’re asking so nice, seems a little mean to keep you waiting,” he coos, fingers replacing his mouth while he talks, “But I thought you liked it when I was a little mean.”

“Don’t be mean, Ed,” you pout.

“Okay, I won’t be mean,” he smiles, opening your legs a little wider. He’s confident about his skills here, Chris loved getting eaten out so he dedicated a lot of time to getting it right. It helped that he loved going down, watching his partner gasp and whine while he serves her on his knees. Feeling the tug on his hair when he’s doing it right, making her feel good. The press of her hand to push him closer to her when she’s getting close, giving it to her over and over again.

“Oh fuck, Ed — oh my god, baby,” you mewl, hips grinding up against his mouth. He smirks into the next stripe of his tongue, latching onto your clit to suck softly while his fingers press against your entrance. His eyes gaze up at you, your own going glassy while you look down at him.

“I like when you look at me like that,” he confesses quietly, mouth returning to its actions immediately. He keeps his eyes on you while his first finger pushes in, he groans at the feeling — snug, warm, wet. He drags out slowly, a high pitched moan escaping you when he pushes back in with little resistance. His head moves with his mouth, tongue laving over your clit, lips pursing over it when he feels your pulse over his finger.

“You’re so good — fuck — you’re so good at this,” you sigh. The praise runs down his chest and along his spine, he moans gratefully into his next kiss against you. He stripes his tongue again, using his other hand to keep your lips spread for more access. Your thighs twitch while he goes back to soft deliberate sucking, alternating between that and gentle fluttering flicks from the tip of his tongue.

“That’s good for you?” he mumbles.

“You’re so good for me,” you whisper back, gripping his hair hard when he pushes his second finger in, “Just…unhm, just like that.”

He keeps a steady pace with his fingers, evidence of his skill coating them while he does. He wants to drag this out a while, take his time with you like he said he would. He breaks his mouth away for a moment to really look at you, just in your bra and skirt. His heart skips a beat, breath caught in his throat. You’re so beautiful, he thinks. Too afraid to say it outloud. What if you don’t like that while you have sex? You said you like when he was a little mean, does that mean he should be mean all the time?

“Earth to Ed…” he hears you say, your hand waving in his face. He looks back up at you, startled, “You okay? You stopped and sort of just…stared for a second.”

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” he laughs to himself, taking his fingers away to massage the inside of your thighs with both hands, “Just got caught up staring at you.”

“Ew,” you giggle with a smile, “You think I’m pretty or somethin’?”

Eddie leans up between your legs on the couch where you come down to meet him, noses inches apart, “Well I don’t wanna be too forward…”

“You’re literally eating me out, you can’t get any more forward,” you both laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Of both being shaky and shy even this far into the game.

“Like I was saying — I don’t wanna be too forward, but I think you’re honestly so beautiful,” he blushes bashfully, looking down so all you can see are his full lashes, “And I didn’t wanna be corny and say it while I’m like, neck deep in your pussy.”

“That’s very sweet, baby.” You run your hand through his hair, pushing back one side when he looks up at you again. Baby. He likes when you call him that. He likes when you call him baby. He’s excited for you to call him other names like pretty boy, and babe, and honey. He wants to hear ‘em all. He wants you to spend the night so he can make you breakfast in the morning — for like…ever. You kiss him and he shudders, cock jumping in his slacks for a hint of attention — but he has a job to finish.

“You’re very sweet,” he says, nuzzling your nose before kissing your cheek, then your jawline, your neck, your chest, down and further down until he’s between your legs again — he doesn’t tease this time. He licks at your entrance, replacing his fingers with his tongue to lap up what you have for him. Your thighs tremble he trails back up, swirling his tongue over your clit when his fingers snugly sink back inside you.

“Eddie…”

“You gonna cum for me?” he asks, voice smokey and deep. He lets his fingers search inside you for your g-spot, grinning when he finds it. Your moan is loud when he massages it, hips pushing down into the couch cushions, head thrown back while you grind against him.

“M’so close,” you huff, “That feels so good, please don’t stop. Don’tstopdon’tstop.”

He grunts, feeling your thighs jump while he keeps up his pace. His tongue gets sloppy with it, wet and filthy, pooling spit out of his mouth in droves to mix with your slick. He fills you with a third finger, legs parting further again while you huff into the stretch.

“Ooh, you can really take it, baby,” he encourages, “Look at you takin’ all these fingers.” He glides the flat of his tongue over you once before leaning back to watch you. The pads of his fingers press in slow circles against your g-spot again, smirking when your eyes roll back.

“M’gonna cum…oh shit — oh fuck Ed I’m g.. — ohfuck — fuckfuckfuck — mmm-ah!” Your hips jump, lifting off the couch, writhing to pull away while you feel your orgasm rush rapidly to its peak.

“Thaaaat’s it,” he smiles, mouth returning home to its place latched over you. He holds your hips down with his free hand, eyes fluttering closed while he continues. A slight flit of his tongue right as he pumps his fingers in puts stars in your eyes, thighs snapping closed on either side of his head — exactly what he wanted.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you chant with strained, shaking vocal chords, tears pricking your eyes. Eddie groans when he feels your walls clench down hard over his fingers, flooding over him down his hand. You hiss while he keeps going, fingers easing out of you but tongue licking up as much as he can while you come down in shivers.

“You okay?” he asks, when your thighs release him. You reach for his hand, still covered in your juices and pull it toward you — but he knows your game. He knows you’re gonna lick it off and give him those eyes — so he pulls his wrist away, “Oh, no baby.”

Eddie delicately puts his fingers in his mouth, eyes on yours with a glint of satisfaction, and gently sucks them clean instead.

“I don’t like to waste it, sugar,” he croons, “I can make you something if you’re hungry.”

His sexy act breaks when you roll your eyes at him, clearly flustered by his antics in your post orgasm glow. He snickers when he stands up, leaning down to peck you with your arousal still smeared on his mouth and chin.

“Don’t laugh at me,” you pout.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pouts back. A peck turns to a kiss, a kiss to something passionate.

“Why don’t I go get cleaned up,” he starts, before catching you in another kiss.

“You should pee since that’s the smart thing to do before and after,” he presses a kiss to your neck.

“And then I’ll take you to bed,” he murmurs huskily, “How’s that?”

“That’s really nice,” you rasp back, turning so that you’re nose to nose, “But I am a little hungry now that you said that.”

“You’re funny,” he smiles, another kiss, “I’ll get us a snack and then I’ll take you to bed, is that better?”

“Much better.”

Eddie passes you your panties and shirt, and points out where the bathroom is down the hall. While you traipse along, he opens the fridge, taking out the tiramisu he got as dessert with his takeout last night but didn’t get around to eating. He slices the generous cut in half, gently placing it on two tea plates and grabbing two forks.

“Do you like tiramisu?” he asks when he hears your socked feet pad into the kitchen.

“I do. My mom’s is the best actually,” you brag. He turns around to see you, your bright smile, your refreshed face.

“Will you still eat it if it’s not your mom’s?” he asks, offering you the plate.

“Yes, of course,” you nod, taking both plates out of his hands and placing them on the table, “But first I gotta –”

Eddie’s taken aback by the kiss, but you don’t notice. He’s swift at the pick up, matching your pace expertly and hoisting you up onto the counter with surprising ease. He grunts when you pull him forward between your legs by the belt loops because he knows you’re trying to fuck just as much as he is.

“Baby…” he starts, regretfully breaking away, “Are you hungry or not?”

You don’t answer at first, you just look at him and kiss him again. When you pull away, your gaze lingers. Fear coasts icily over his chest when you almost look forlorn.

“Shit…” you whisper, shoulders drooping.

“Wh-what? What is it?” he asks, hands getting clammy where they rest on your thighs.

“I…” you take a deep breath, it shakes when you exhale, “I really fucking like you.”

He smiles, but he knows why this is your response, why you look like this, why your shoulders sulk — because he’s also there, “Does that make you scared?”

You nod, but instead of going in to kiss you again he pulls you close, smooching your cheek before leaning your head on his shoulder.

“It’s okay that you’re scared,” he murmurs, “But if it’s any consolation…”

“I really fucking like you, too.”

When you kiss again, he’s overwhelmed.

“Fuck the tiramisu,” you breathe, “Let’s just —.”

“Mhm,” he breathes back, hoisting you off the counter, balancing you on his hips, “I fucking need you.”

Jingle. Click. Creak.

“HONEY, WE’RE HOME!” calls the voice of a sloshed Steve Harrington, from the front door, “Put your clothes on, sluts.”

But it’s not just Steve, it’s the whole party — the group filing into the living room while you hurriedly slide down Eddie’s form. Tatianna and Gareth follow in after everyone gets their shoes off, laughing and joking with Robin and Dustin while they stumble through the door. They halt when they catch Eddie’s expression from the other room, a stare so cold it could freeze them both. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Gareth mouths, realizing with deep regret what they’ve interrupted. Tatianna makes her way over, making a face of pure guilt when she makes it into the kitchen.

“So here’s the thing, my phone died and Steve was using Gareth’s phone to change the music and I forgot to text you,” she explains to the both of you, “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s seriously okay,” you laugh, “Please don’t feel bad. It’s you and Gareth’s apartment, too.”

“Are you mad at me?” Tati pouts at Eddie, who could not stay mad at Tati for even a second.

He puffs a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms, “No, no, I’m not mad at you. It’s okay.”

“Okay,” she smiles, opening her arms for a hug which he obliges without question, “Gare’s sorry too, but unfortunately he’s busy babysitting Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum with Nance.” Eddie looks down at you when he lets go of Tatianna, reaching his hand out to rub your back, “She means Robin and Steve.”

“I figured,” you smile. Tatianna makes her exit and you’re both alone in the kitchen again.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie offers, using the leverage of his hand on your back to pull you in close to him.

“What, why? There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you furrow your brow, forearms leaning up the length of his chest. The opening bass of Dua Lipa’s One Kiss starts to thump from the soundsystem in the living room into the kitchen, along with Steve’s passionate This is my favorite fucking song, holy shit.

“Everything got ruined,” he frowns, “I’m like, kind of embarrassed.”

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you urge, pulling him a little closer to give him a reassuring kiss, “There’s always next time. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

“No?” he asks, leaning his forehead against yours, “You’re stayin’ right here?”

“Well, until I have to go to home,” you shrug. The music gets a little louder and Eddie throws his disappointment to the wind. There is always next time. For now, he has you here in his kitchen, lips on yours, hands on your cheeks, the steady thump of the beat of his heart. And of course, Steve drunk crying to Robin in the living room – You’re literally my best fucking friend. You’re my best fucking friend Rob, I love you so much.

Eddie giggles against your mouth at the sound, an ache caught in his chest. He really fucking likes you.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things s4 #eddie munson x y/n

2K notes · View notes

wanders-in-wonderland · 8 months

Text

First Date

The first thought I had when I saw him was that he looked even better than his profile. We’d matched on Tinder, and after a few days of messaging back and forth, we’d agreed to have a first date. He’d suggested a new restaurant in our area and he was even sweet enough to drive all the way across town to my apartment to pick me up.

Dinner was lovely, the food and drinks amazing and the conversation even better. He was charming and funny and I don’t remember when I’d been so at ease on a first date.

After dinner, he drove me back to my apartment and we sat in his car, still talking and laughing nonstop. I turn to him and shyly ask if he’d want to come up to my apartment for some coffee or dessert. I’m usually not one to invite guys over at night but everything about him has been so perfect and I’m reluctant to let this night end. He smiles and agrees, and we head in up to my apartment.

We’re laughing as we get to my door and I unlock it to let us in. “I’m sorry, it’s a bit of a mess, I wasn’t expecting to bring someone over so I didn’t have a chance to tidy up,” I say, looking around my space before looking up at him.

He smiles at me, but suddenly his expression changes to something sinister. Before I can process the change, he grabs me by the throat and slams me against the door I’d just shut and locked. I cry out, mostly from shock than pain, but his hand cracks across my face, the slap stunning me.

“Shut the fuck up, slut. I’ve been so patient with you all night, listening to your stupid little stories and laughing with you about your dumb little life when all I want is for you to shut up.” He snarls into my ear and I whimper in response, “I don’t understand, please stop! I’m sorry, I thought we were having a good time!”

“Oh this is about to be a good time,” he laughs darkly as he uses his body to pin mine even harder against the door. I let out a soft sob, feeling the hard outline of his cock press against my stomach. I push against him desperately and he hardly moves. In one swift movement, he grabs both my wrists in one hand and pins them above my head, leaving my body stretched out and exposed.

“Please stop, I’m sorry, we never have the see each other again!” I beg him, wanting him to just let me go and leave. His grip on my wrist tightens and his other hand comes up to cup my tits. “Oh no, I’m sure we’ll be seeing lots more of each other,” he says, the dark promise sending shivers down my spine.

His fingers brush over my nipple, the feeling making me gasp even though it’s over my clothes and bra. I wince a little, remembering how I’d even put on a sexy, lacy matching set in preparation for the date. He lets his hand trail downwards, and he slides it under my dress, gripping my thigh.

“Keep your legs apart for me or I’m going to be much meaner to you, slut.” His hand comes to cup my pussy and I whine softly, shaking my head desperately. He lets out a dark chuckle when he realizes that I’m drenched and my panties are soaked.

“Little slut, look at how your dripping for me. It looks like the idea of getting violated on your first date is exciting your cunt.” He doesn’t give me a chance to respond, not that I have anything to say to that. His fingers deftly slide under my panties and part my folds as one finger pushes into my pussy, my wetness offering him no resistance whatsoever. I gasp and let out a broken moan as the feeling overwhelms me.

His finger starts to move as a second one finds my clit and begins a relentless assault on my throbbing button. I can’t help but groan as the pleasure builds and I can feel my hips thrusting upwards, chasing the pleasure he’s forcing onto me. I want to hate it but it feels so good and I can feel myself being pushed toward an orgasm. He knows it too.

"Good little slut, I know how much you like this. Look at you, you're about to cum all over my fingers after just telling me how you didn't want any of this." He works his fingers faster, adding another inside of me as he curls upwards to rub my g-spot, making my knees buckle as my moans become even louder. I shouldn't want this, I shouldn't be moaning loud enough for my neighbors to hear, and I definitely shouldn't be able to cum right now.

"Come on, cum for me, slut. Cum for your rapist," he growls into my ear and I explode. I arch my back and wail as my orgasm rushes over me, my pussy clenching around his fingers and my clit pulsing in time to my heartbeat. He works me through my orgasm as my body goes limp against the wall.

He finally pulls his hand away and I watch through half-lidded eyes as he brings his hand up to his mouth and licks his fingers. I watch him pull off his belt and unbuckle his pants. "Get on your knees, slut," he says, pulling me harshly towards the floor. I sniff back tears as I lower myself down, feeling the hardwood of my entry way dig into my knees. He grabs my face, "Open that slutty little mouth."

I do as he says and he smiles. I watch as he reaches into his pants and pulls out his long, hard cock. I whimper softly, unconsciously rubbing my thighs together and feeling saliva collect in my mouth. His cock is gorgeously thick, veined, long, and so hard. I can't imagine how he'll fit fully into my mouth but before I can think about it too much, he slips the head of it between my lips.

"If you even think about using your teeth, I will choke the life out of you," he says as he thrusts deep into my mouth. He isn't slow or nice or gentle. His cock hits the back of my throat and tears well up in my eyes as I gag around him. He doesn't care as he sets a punishing pace, thrusting into my mouth while I can barely breathe. He groans above me, "Fuck, your little mouth is much better on my cock that it is spouting your stupid stories."

I choke around his cock, feeling it enter deeper into my throat. Eventually, I find a rhythm, bobbing my head in time with his thrusts and drawing in gasps of air in between each one. I can feel my pussy clenching emptily and my clit throbbing. His cock feels so good in my mouth, and I can't help but wonder how fast he could make me cum with it in my cunt.

I hear his groans change in pitch, and I know he's close. My previous rhythm is lost when his hips speed up and he grabs a fistful of my hair in one hand. He thrusts his cock deeper into my throat and he cums. My throat works to swallow all of his cum as I feel his hips stop moving. His cock is still hard as he pulls away, a string of my spit clinging on as he backs away from me slightly.

"Fuck, you're a perfect little cocksucker." He leans against my apartment door briefly as I sit back on my heels, giving my knees a break and looking up at him. "Please, just leave, you got what you wanted," I beg, still clinging on to unfounded hope and whatever dignity I had left. He laughs, "Oh no, little slut, I'm not even close to getting what I want, and we are far from done. By the time I finish, you won't want me to leave."

"Turn around and get on your hands and knees," he says, pushing off the door and coming to kneel next to me. I feel my heart drop, knowing that he's going to fuck my cunt next and there's nothing I can do to stop him. He grabs my hair, and shoves my head down, "I said on your hands and knees, you slut."

I whine at the pain in my scalp and my arms come to catch myself before I fall face-first into the floor. He's behind me now and I crane my neck, trying to keep him in my eyeline. I feel him flip the skirt of my dress up, revealing my damp panties that he yanks down to my knees. Suddenly, I feel his hand come crashing down on my ass, pain shooting through me as he spanks me hard. I cry out and he spanks me a second time, just as hard.

"Little sluts that get wet and cum for their rapists deserve to be treated like this," he says and I feel my face flush with humiliation. He spanks me several more times, each time forcing a sob from my lips. Then, I feel him press against me and I feel the tip of his cock nudge my pussy lips.

"Wait no! Please stop!" I wail desperately, my begging ending in a scream as he ignores me and slams deep into my cunt. I feel my pussy flutter around his cock, my wetness making his violation of my body seamless and effortless. His cock feels so good inside of me, his thickness splitting me open in the best way, and I feel the head of his cock push up against my g-spot, making me see stars. This time, he's nice enough to give me a moment to adjust before he starts.

His starts thrusting deep and fast, not letting me do anything except feel. I can hear the wanton sounds coming from my mouth and the lewd sound of my pussy clenching around his cock. I'm too far gone to care about anything other than the pleasure that is radiating from my core. One of his hands is on my hip, holding me still and the other one wraps around my hair, pulling my head up to make my back arch. I'm moaning, whimpering, and screaming out in pleasure and I can feel my orgasm rapidly approaching.

"That's it, slut. You're taking my cock so fucking well. I'm going to make you cream all over my cock, cum on your rapists cock, you dirty little slut." He growls into my ear as his hand leaves my hip to travel down to pluck at my clit. I scream louder in response as the combined pleasure peaks in an all-consuming orgasm. My cunt is clenching hard on his cock and I hear him groan deeply in response.

I'm still cumming when I hear him curse behind me, "I'm going to cum in your cunt, take your rapist's cum, you fucking slut." I feel his thrusts stutter and his hot cum floods my pussy. My cunt is still fluttering around him and I'm delirious with pleasure and exhaustion as I feel him pull out of me, leaving me empty and wanting. He lays me down gently on the floor and lies down next to me, draping an arm over my waist as he props his head up on one arm. I blink up at him blearily and smile a little.

He grins and leans in for a soft kiss. "So, when's our second date?"

I smile and press myself against him, "How about you stay the night and we figure that out tomorrow morning?"

Idea Credit to @thighsquivering

#nsft concept #cnc k!nk #dark fantasy #rap3 fantasy #rap3fetish #tw rap3

598 notes · View notes

gravitycavity · 9 days

Text

Sunshine (Pomni x Ragatha) Chapter 6 - Radiant

[Click here to read from the beginning on AO3!]

Cover art by @blukiar

Vanilla and dried leaves and crisp morning air.

Ragatha savored the feminine aura that enveloped her, hands shivering as they strangled the silky fabric of Pomni’s tunic. She leaned in, pressing harder. A delightful, breathy sound snuck out of the corners of her mouth as Pomni’s lips yielded to hers. They were soft. Sweet. The warmest thing she’d ever tasted.

“Pomni…” Ragatha drifted at last from the cozy embrace, breath shuddering in sync with the rest of her body. Her good eye peeked open just a crack. Her hands turned slack and listless. One-by-one, her fingers lost their grip on Pomni’s tunic until, inevitably, she felt herself falling.

Pomni caught her, of course — Ragatha knew that she would.

Safe and secure in the arms of her fearless knight, Ragatha pulled her legs toward her core, making herself small. Her eyelids dragged fully open. It had felt like an eternity since she’d last looked at that gorgeous face, and she couldn’t stand to wait a single second longer.

Pomni’s hesitant smile, framed by her perennial blush, regarded Ragatha from up above. Ragatha’s face bloomed to match it. The jester brightened, too — just a little.

God. Radiant.

“Um…” Pomni’s expression dimmed again as she swallowed, her pupils wandering here and there. “How was that?”

Wonderful. Absolutely, unbelievably, impossibly wonderful. Ragatha had never felt this particular kind of rush before — the kind that made her head feel fuzzy, that made her limbs start to tingle, that made her heart beat so quickly and unendingly that it actually hurt.

If any of her past romantic rendezvous were any indication, Ragatha had been sure that all those romance novels she used to read on her lunch breaks had been exaggerating. She didn’t think it was actually possible to become breathless at the mere thought of another person. Or that a single pair of eyes could actually make the whole world cease to exist — yet here she was, cuddled up in this little woman’s big, strong arms, stupidly in love.

There was no chance in hell she’d actually say any of that sickeningly-saccharine fluff out loud, though. Goodness gracious, could you imagine? No, Ragatha’s love language was a little bit more subtle than that — and, contrary to her usual way of conducting herself, a tad meaner, too.

“Hmph.” Ragatha crossed her arms, pointing her face toward the ballroom’s lofty windows. She pursed her lips to conceal a sly smirk. “Just as I suspected…”

Pomni crinkled her brow. “Huh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Oh, it’s nothing! Just…” Ragatha spun her ankle, “Nevermind.”

“Nevermind!? What do you mean ‘nevermind’? You can’t just leave me hanging like that!”

“I just did.”

“Ragatha!” Pomni stamped her foot, “If you’ve got something to say, then say it!”

“Well, alright. If you insist,” Ragatha pretended to force out a hard sigh; in reality, she was barely able to contain her boisterous laughter. Teasing this girl would never, ever get old. “Don’t get me wrong. Kissing you was a dream come true, but,” she paused, “and please don’t take this the wrong way—”

“Spit it out, already!”

“— I wouldn’t call you a particularly…gifted kisser.”

Pomni thrashed backward; her face was fully boiled. “WH-WHAT?!”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, Sweetheart, but I’m too nice to lie to you. That kiss could have gone better.” Ragatha smirked, seizing hold of Pomni’s tunic once again. She tugged her body closer, utterly captivated by the nervous panic spreading across the jester’s cute little face. “I have a lot to teach you…”

“W-Well…!” Pomni squirmed, sweat beading on her brow, “You are pretty good at that! Teaching, I mean…”

“So I’ve been told~” Ragatha laid down a trio of smooches across Pomni’s cheek, giggling all the while. With each gentle embrace, Ragatha’s lips treaded closer to Pomni’s until, at last, they briefly met again.

Pomni squeaked.

“Now, then,” Ragatha broke off her smooch, “We’ll start with the basics, and work up from there. How’s that sound?”

Pomni was as red as a tomato. She responded with a dazed, stilted nod. “S-Sure…”

“That’s the spirit.” Ragatha bopped Pomni on the snout, despite her steadfast efforts to resist. This girl was just too cute. “First things first. Your kiss was great — very warm, very passionate, very genuine — but I have to say, you seemed awfully nervous.”

“Nervous…?”

“Way too tense. It’s a kiss, Sunshine, not a job interview. Just relax, hold me close, and press your lips to mine. That’s all there is to it.”

Pomni chewed on her lip for a few silent moments. Soon, her dominant hand was wandering up the length of Ragatha’s back, settling firmly between the ragdoll’s shoulders. Then, exploiting her new leverage, Pomni moved her face closer.

Ragatha was fully prepared to swoon, but something strange — the slight pang of discomfort simmering behind Pomni’s eyes — gave her pause.

Ragatha drifted away, consciously or not. Her face reflected Pomni’s uneasy mask.

The brightness with which Pomni’s eyes had shined mere moments ago had dimmed almost completely. Was it anxiety? Reluctance? General melancholy? Was Pomni just playing the part of her usual worrywort self, or was something the matter…?

No, no. Don’t overthink it. It was probably just nerves. That dorky new girl just had her first kiss, after all — people always get that stupid look on their face their first time.

Ragatha’s train of thought skidded to a halt, however, as Pomni clumsily shoved her lips into hers. Twice as quickly, and thrice as ungracefully, the awkward jester tore her mouth away from Ragatha’s like her very life depended on it.

“Th-There.” Pomni wiped her mouth. Her eyes diligently avoided any contact, “Better?”

Ragatha cleared her throat. Somehow, that was even worse. Maybe even the least satisfying kiss of her entire life. How to let her down easy…?

The dolly helped herself to a few patient breaths. “Let’s begin with the positives. You took the initiative this time, which was nice. And there was less, um…” Ragatha squinted, “...suction. Always a plus. As for the things you could improve…”

Ragatha rocked her head back and forth, starting, stopping and re-starting the same sentence a half-dozen times before finally finding the right words. “Sweetheart,” she finally said, “do you think you could try giving me a little bit…more?”

“More…?”

“Look, I don’t mean to split hairs, but that was more of a peck than a kiss, don’t you think?”

“I… guess so.” Pomni deflated, looking more like a lost puppy with every passing moment. “I-I’m sorry, I don’t think I’m cut out for this. I should’ve never even asked to kiss you in the first place—”

“What? No, no, no! It wasn’t bad, Pomni! I just wished that it had lasted a little bit longer. You pulled away so quickly, I barely had any time to enjoy it.”

“Y-Yeah…” Pomni sighed.

Ragatha tilted her head with a soft, reassuring smile. “Let’s try again. I’ll lead, you follow. Before you pull away, try counting to two in your…”

…her voice trailed off, suddenly distracted by a strange sensation. Pomni’s arms were trembling. Trembling hard.

“Oh, dear,” Ragatha’s mature voice cracked with compassion. There was something wrong. Pomni, what’s the matter? Your arms are…”

“N-N-No, th-th-that’s-s-s n-n-not m-m-me!” Pomni stammered — and for once, her pesky nerves weren’t the ones to blame. Wobbling on one foot like a clumsy cartoon character, she craned her neck forward, trying to see the ground over her hefty armful..

A dissonant aria of creaking wood sounded as a slight, but persistent tremble shook the stage. A handful of musician’s chairs toppled over around the girls, solidly-crafted frames harshly smashing against the weathered timber floor. A half-dozen music stands fell over next — a prelude to the disjointed melody that disgraced the air as a handful of musical instruments crashed, clanked, and clanged against the floor.

But in no time at all the quizzical trembling was all said and done.

Pomni just stood there in the aftermath, utterly dumbfounded, wearing the world’s most clueless expression. Ragatha did much the same.

“Well,” Ragatha scratched her temple, “that was weird—”

A second, dramatically stronger earthquake — so that the stage beneath the girls to suddenly crunched in half — rocked the digital plane.

“Pomni!” Ragatha yelped like a frightened kitten, clinging to Pomni’s waist as needle-thin splinters sprayed forth like wooden shrapnel.

“D-Don’t worry! I’ve got you!” Pomni held Ragatha as tightly as she could, planting her legs in a wide stance. Taking a moment to find her balance, she dashed away from the swarm of timber shards, leaping off the collapsed stage with total confidence.

Unfortunately for her (and by extension, Ragatha), that confidence was in no way earned. It was far easier to leap than it was to land, and Pomni, not exactly being the athletic type, did so in a heap, skinny frame roughly impacting the hard marble dance floor.

Ragatha grunted in pain, feeling a few more stitches pop as she tumbled out of Pomni’s arms. She rolled across the floor and came to a rest a stone’s throw away.

Eventually, the world stopped spinning, and the dazed dolly blinked her eyes open. For a moment, she was seeing double — but a quick rattle of her head cleared up her topsy-turvy vision.

Pomni practically launched toward Ragatha. “Oh my gosh!” she fell to her knees, “Ragatha! Are you okay!?”

Unable to stand up by herself, Ragatha could only lie on her back, staying motionless like a discarded ragdoll on a playroom floor. Painfully aware of what made that hilariously sad, she tried not to laugh, staring up at Pomni’s panicked face from her upside-down point-of-view.

“Ragatha! Hello? Are you alright?”

“I am now.” Ragatha ended up laughing anyway, twisting a red curl around her finger. Maybe the blood was rushing to her head — or maybe she just felt like doing it.

Pomni’s face was red. “Be serious!”

Ragatha snorted. “I’m okay! I promise you.”

Pomni let out a huff, brushing away a thicket of splinters that had embedded themselves into the many folds of her padded musketeer costume. Thankfully, none of the fibrous projectiles had managed to pierce through to the skin. “I’ll probably be a little sore in the morning, but I’m okay, too.”

“Well, that’s…good.” Ragatha stretched her arms and legs. “Hey, Pomni?”

“Yeah?” Pomni scooted closer.

“Your greatest fear wouldn’t happen to be earthquakes, would it?”

“Trust me. If I was bothered by earthquakes, you would know by now,” Pomni rubbed her chin, looking pensive, “To tell you the truth, I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Nope. My fear is centipedes. It’s always been centipedes.” Ragatha shivered, quickly discarding the thought. She examined at the carnage around her — a stage split in two, dusty clouds sulking about, a hostile sea of shattered ceramic and broken glass drowning the dance floor. It didn’t add up. “So, then…what’s going on?”

“Maybe the earthquakes are just set dressing? There’s lots of things we’ve encountered that had no real significance beyond confusing us or creeping us out. Remember that room with the theremin-player?”

“He really did just sit in the corner, doing his thing.” Ragatha nodded — she had to give her that one. “But what if the earthquakes aren’t just incidental? What if they have something to do with the key puzzle? We still haven’t solved it, have we?”

“Oh!” Pomni perked up. “Oh.” Pomni frowned. “Oh…” Pomni’s face twisted into an exaggerated caricature of itself. “Like… maybe the room is telling us we did it wrong? Or maybe we’re running out of time, and the room is collapsing in on us?! Oh, God! And maybe—”

“Oh, for heaven’s sake!” The ether trembled, disturbed by the ghastly vibrations of a familiar, haughty voice. “Are you lot really that daft!?”

Pomni and Ragatha let out a yip and a yelp, respectively. Both heads swiveled on a dime.

Who but Margarethe MacGuffin — the malevolent matriarch of MacGuffin Manor herself — could be looming overhead? Practically snarling, the ghostly socialite cocked her signature book parallel to her face, ready to chuck the hefty tome through — not at — the nearest head.

“You solved the puzzle! The. Door. Is. OPEN!” she shrieked like a ghoul, “It’s been open for five minutes! If you two sapphic scoundrels would quit necking each other long enough to look up at your surroundings, perhaps you would know that!”

Pomni nearly fell over backwards, hands splattered all over her beet-red face. “Uh…! U-Uh!”

Meanwhile, Ragatha squealed like a stomped chew toy, waving her hands frantically across the marble floor, “Miss MacGuffin! I don’t know what you think you saw, but we weren't—’ she stammered, “We aren’t—”

“Save your breath.” Margarethe squared her tome against her hip. “I couldn’t care less about your love life — what do I care about is my brooch, and I’m growing quite tired of watching whatever awful soap opera you two are dead-set on re-enacting. I mean, forgive me, but it is just terrible. Absolutely horrifying.”

Ragatha’s entire face contorted in horror. “You were watching us?!”

Margarethe wagged her finger in Ragatha’s face, barely missing the ragdoll’s triangular snout. “Hold your tongue. I’m not finished.” Another small tremor shook the mansion. “I humbly suggest that you two pick up the pace before I end up kneeling before the gates of hell, begging to be let back in. And before you end up failing this entire mission.”

“Failing?” Pomni shot a panicked glance toward Ragatha, then flung her gaze back toward the phantom. “Wait, we can fail?! No one told us we could fail!”

“Hmph! So typical — absolutely no accountability taken.” Margarethe clicked her tongue, “Really, it’s my own fault. I shouldn’t have expected some pampered whelp from the swing generation to have a grasp on personal responsibility.”

Pomni squinted. “What year do you think this is?”

“Change the subject all you want, it’s not helping your case.” Margarethe casually inspected her monstrous manicure, “nor is it going to change anything about your deliciously-dire circumstances.”

“What circumstances!? What case?! You’re not making any sense, lady!”

“Pomni!” Ragatha raised her voice. “Were you raised in a barn?! Mind your manners!”

“What are you, my mom?”

“If I were, I’d be ashamed.” Ragatha crossed her arms. “Now quit running your big mouth before we get into even more trouble!”

Ragatha took a moment to compose herself before turning her attention to the ghostly hostess. The fact that she was still laying on the floor didn’t seem to phase her. “Miss MacGuffin,” she said with a calm, controlled cadence, “I’m afraid we don’t understand what you’re trying to say. Why exactly do we need to hurry?”

Pomni rolled her eyes. “Kiss-@$#.”

Margarethe lifted her chin approvingly, cracking open her spellbook. “...See, I could try explaining with words, but your little pet here seems to be a few cents short of a dollar. How about I just show you — that way, her little peabrain has something exciting to look at while the adults are talking?”

Pomni’s mouth warped into a sharp-toothed grimace — but Ragatha, thinking fast, sharply raised her voice overpower the string of swears that came barreling out. “Gosh, th-that sounds like a wonderful idea, Miss MacGuffin! Whatever would we do without such a hospitable hostess?!”

“Oh, heavens. Don’t talk me up too much, now.” Margarethe batted a hand, beaming with pride. “There’s a good reason hell doesn’t want me.”

Licking her finger, the phantom flipped through the pages of her voluminous tome before finally planting her nose inside. She squinted. Her voice took on a low, scratchy timbre as she uttered the hex inscribed upon the yellowed paper.

“Hallowed spirits beyond the pale!” she bellowed, unable to defy the programming that commanded her to ham everything up to the highest degree, “Hear my call!”

The lights went out all at once, plunging the ballroom into complete darkness. One by one, they flickered to life again. A wave of rollicking flames lit the retinue of charred wicks garrisoned throughout the room — the candelabras upon the tables, the towers of wax planted in the sconces, the tea candles suspended beneath the chandeliers in little glass bowls.

Ragatha rubbed her eyes. The light show was impressive, if nothing else.

Margarethe’s spell continued on its course. “Oh, wise spirits, on this most terrible All Hallow’s Eve, lend us the unparalleled, awesome power…” the phantom cast a single, outstretched hand straight into the air, “...of the developer console!”

“The—” Ragatha did a double take, “The #$@&ing what?!”

Like magic, an old-fashioned film projector — paired with a matching typewriter — popped into existence in front of Margarethe. The cobweb-covered machines floated freely in the air, bobbing with a slight, satisfying rhythm.

“Display…adventure…stats,” Margarethe thought out loud, her long, ghostly fingers loudly tapping the typewriter’s keys. With one final, dramatic keystroke, a lengthy list of dull statistics was projected onto the wall in black-and-white.

“There we are!” Margarethe draped her arm across Pomni’s shoulders; her ghostly aura dragged the temperature down by at least fifteen degrees. “Let’s have a look, shall we? Team one: Zooble and Kinger — Adventure status: Complete. Time elapsed: 3.9 hours,” she quoted the list aloud, “Team two: Jax and Gangle — Adventure status: Complete. Time elapsed: 5.3 hours.”

Ragatha glanced at Pomni. Pomni looked down at the floor-bound dolly, waving with an awkward half-smile. Ragatha felt her face take on a warmer hue as she returned a flirtatious wave of her own.

“Ah, look! Here’s you two!” Margarethe pointed, cackling precisely according to her villainous programming. “Team three: Ragatha and Pomni — Adventure status: Incomplete. Time elapsed: 13.1 hours.”

Ragatha balked. “Thirteen hours?!”

“Huh?” Pomni winced like she’d just stepped on a nail, “Is that bad!?”

Margarethe snapped the makeshift computer out of existence, replacing it with a rusted, palm-sized pocket watch. “Well, it certainly isn’t good.” she remarked matter-of-factly.

The mansion shivered with another soul-churning tremor as Margarethe calmly examined the watch’s ticking hands. Ceramic shards and broken glass showered the floor as the ballroom’s finely-set tables toppled over two-by-two, three-by-three, four-by-four.

“I really have to spell every little thing out, don’t I?” The phantom clicked her tongue. “Ladies, thanks to your incessant indolence, your persistent procrastination, your dormant dilly-dallying…” she thumbed the timepiece closed, “I’d give you about one hour, give or take, before this whole mansion comes crashing down.”

“You’re kidding me, right?” Pomni snapped, “There’s a TIME LIMIT!?”

“So sorry to disappoint~” Margarethe batted a hand. “As much of a treat it is to haunt — er, host — you two, all good things must eventually come to an end. And I’m afraid our time together is fast approaching that inevitable conclusion.”

“But! But that’s not fair! You can’t just—” Pomni grunted. She grabbed Ragatha by the waist, holding up the ragdoll like a human shield. “Ragatha! Tell her!”

“Well-l…” Ragatha cleared her throat to make way for her ‘teacher’ voice — the gentlest, most placating delivery she could possibly manage. “I appreciate your passion, Pomni. I really do. But to be fair, I did mention this once before…”

Pomni shoved her face closer to Ragatha’s. “You did?”

“Well, just that there’s a time limit. I never explained why.” Ragatha said. She would do her best to explain it in simple terms. “The Digital Circus is a computer game — and not a particularly well-coded one. If I recall correctly, the game’s internal logic suffers from something called a ‘memory leak’, and because of that, adventures can only persist for a certain length of time.”

Pomni seemed intrigued. “Memory leak…?” she said, finally getting around to actually picking Ragatha up off the floor. She hooked one hand beneath woman’s back, one beneath her legs.

“I think that’s what Gangle called it.” Ragatha replied. Closing her eyes as she was lifted off of the ground, she took a moment to organize the ins and outs of her explanation. “I’ll put it this way — think of a computer’s memory like your desk at work.”

“Ugh.” Pomni rolled her eyes, now standing fully. Once again, Ragatha was cradled safely in her arms. “Can we not?”

“No.” Ragatha huffed. “We’re going with the desk analogy, so listen up.”

“Fine.”

“Thank you. Now consider this — you only have so much space on your desk to keep your things, right? If you run out of space, things pile up, and it becomes harder and harder to keep track of everything you need. Your staple remover gets lost, then your extra box of staples, then the stapler itself. You have to resort to binding documents together with paper clips like some kind of deranged lunatic, but then even those get lost in the shuffle.”

“Wow…” Pomni closed her eyes. Her breath ebbed and flowed at a gentle, meditative pace, “It’s like I’m really there…”

“The point is, you get overwhelmed trying to keep track of everything.” Ragatha said. “Computers work the same way. A well-designed game would free up the ‘desk space’ — or memory — it uses the moment it’s finished using it. But Caine’s adventures don’t do that. AI, physics, lighting — it all just piles up, never getting cleared away, until—”

“Until the adventure crashes?”

Ragatha nodded, wincing a little. “It’s not an issue as long as adventures get completed in a timely manner, but around the 13 hour mark, things start to become unstable…”

“And…” Pomni bit her lip, “And what happens after a crash?”

“I…don’t really know, to tell you the truth. It’s never happened to me.” Ragatha glanced up at MacGuffin Mansion’s resident ghoul. “Miss MacGuffin?”

“Well, don’t look at me.” Margarethe crossed her arms, “13 hours ago, I didn’t even exist. How on God’s green Earth should I know?”

Another tremor rattled the mansion’s foundation. Windows shattered. Furniture fainted. A hairline fissure flashed across the western wall and began a slow, deliberate crawl toward the ceiling.

Holding Ragatha closely, Pomni peeled her shoe off the checkered marble, retreating by a single, wobbly step. “N-Not good…” she mumbled. Her pinwheel pupils tightened toward the centers of her eyes, smothered by a sea of white. “Not good, not good…”

“Ah! But fear not, honored guests — you may just complete this terrifying adventure yet!” Margarethe flew into the air, punctuating her announcement with another flamboyant spin. “For I, the great Margarethe MacGuffin, have graciously decided to lend a helping hand. A shortcut, if you will.”

“Shortcut…?” Ragatha placed her hands over her stomach — her stuffing was stirring.

Margarethe winked. She snapped her fingers. In the blink of an eye, Pomni, Ragatha, and their ghostly hostess were zapped out of the ballroom. A split-second later, they reappeared in an entirely new environment: A long, dark corridor, lit only by the moonlight peering shyly from the windows.

Pomni flinched. “What?!” Her head snapped here and there as she tried to make sense of her new surroundings. “Where are we?”

“Why, we’ve skipped to the good part, darling.” Margarethe’s cheshire grin stretched all the way across her ghastly visage.

“G-Good part?”

“You see, I had some other rooms planned out for you two, but at the rate you’re going, you’d never, ever make it through them in time. So,” she shrugged, “seeing as you’re likely going to fail anyway, I might as well get some free entertainment before this pathetic attempt of yours crumbles to pieces…” Margarethe’s eyes lit up as another shiver shook the mansion. “...literally.”

Cracking up at her own joke, Margarethe keeled over, shattering the corridor’s windows with a high-pitched cackle of masochistic delight. “I’ll see you on the other side, darlings! That is…” she snickered, cupping her cheeks with childlike glee, “…if you survive!”

In the blink of an eye, she was gone.

///

[First Chapter] [Next Chapter (Coming soon!)]

A bit of a shorter chapter this time! I decided to just post the one scene I had finished as chapter 6 and push everything else I had drafted for this chapter into chapter 7. So, on the bright side, Chapter 7 is almost finished, too! :)

Anyway, thank you for reading!

#pomni x ragatha #ragatha x pomni #ragapom #buttonblossom #jesterdoll #pomnitha #the amazing digital circus #tadc fanfiction #tadc sunshine #pomni #lesbian #tdac pomni #tadc fic

164 notes · View notes