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imagine-knowing-a-name · 8 months

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Spies and Secrets

Summary: Natasha has never met her handler, she couldn’t give you their name or identify their face because she doesn’t know it. When she rants about this to you, her wife, you have to laugh... because you are her handler.

Word Count: 2048

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x F!Reader

Warnings: Swearing, lying in the relationship (not in a bad way, just in a spy way), but otherwise it’s just fluff!

A/N: I went back and wrote this idea since it seemed semi-popular. Hope you enjoy :)

»»————-　★　————-««

"Will you finally tell me who they are?"

"This again, Romanoff?"

"Just a first name?"

Fury sighs to make his vexation clear, but that's not enough to dissuade Natasha; she remains determined as ever in her mission and smirks boldly in the face of her exasperated boss.

"Just an initial will get me off your back," the spy continues through his silence.

Fury scoffs and Natasha knows she needs a different approach.

"If it's you, you can just say, Sir."

"Me? You must be losing your touch if you think I have the time for that, Romanoff. Should Hill be taking your next mission?"

Natasha stops and stares with faux hurt while Fury continues on, grinning to his own amusement. He wasn't going to let her keep the upper hand for long.

"If you want to know, ask them yourself!" Fury calls over his shoulder, "Mission debrief. C12-2. 10 minutes. They won't tell you though; above your clearance!"

Natasha groans. As much as she hadn't expected a substantial answer from Fury – she'd been asking him the same question for years – she thought she might be getting somewhere, but no matter which trick she tries, Fury doesn't budge.

On top of that, he'd reminded her that it wasn't home time yet, her mission isn't over until she's briefed her mysterious handler. So Natasha sighs and makes her way to the conference room, still wondering why only her handler chose to shroud themself in mystery. All the other agents meet theirs directly, while Natasha sits in a room alone, waiting for a shadowy silhouette to call in.

The first few years went by without a comment – it wasn't her place to ask – but as she rose the ranks and found her role, her handler, too, remained just above her clearance. Even now, as one of the highest ranking agents, her handler was higher still. Curiosity built like a dripping tap; manageable and menial to start, only to provoke greater displeasure the longer it went on.

"Hi Agent!" the disembodied voice crackles through the speakers. That's the other thing driving Natasha towards irritation, her handler's tone. It's nothing like Fury's commanding orations. No, her handler speaks with an eagerness and informality reminiscent of a junior agent meeting their hero, rather than the commanding officer that they are, and have been, since Natasha first joined SHIELD almost a decade ago.

"Officer." Natasha replies. She had never been told her handler's surname, or even a title she could use to address them. Any attempts she made to learn had been properly shut down, forcing her to stick with the appellation of Case Officer.

"Always so formal," her handler laughs. "As far as I'm aware, the mission was successful, so what's got you so grumpy today?" they continue, noticing an uncharacteristic clarity to Natasha's mood that day.

"If you told me your name, I wouldn't have to be so formal, would I?" the spy snaps back. "And I'm not grumpy."

"Natasha, we've worked together for nearly 10 years now. I know when you're grumpy, and I can throw in an educated guess that my identity is the cause?"

"I've spent my life working in secret," Natasha shrugs, then pauses in search of the right words. "I'm well accustomed to dubious legalities and taking orders from the shadows. I'm also well aware that I would be a risk to security from the moment I joined until I gained the trust of this organisation, so I understood your secrecy."

Natasha stops again, noticing the silhouette begin to fidget; whether out of boredom or discomfort, the assassin can tell the time is right to make her final argument.

"We've worked together on hundreds of missions over this past decade, enough for you to know every detail of my life and mind, while I still know nothing about you. Have you thought about how that might hurt, officer? because it does! to believe I still haven't gained your trust after all this time. That hurts."

The room stills to a silence as fragile as Natasha felt. Her handler's reaction would dictate the situation; any information given could redefine the relationship between the two spies, just as another brush off would leave Natasha spiralling further into this curiosity.

A sigh finally echoes through the speakers; its long pause circling the sole inhabitant of the room. "It's above your clearance," the voice admits. Natasha slumps; she should have known better. "But-" The speed at which Natasha perks up draws out a small chuckle from her handler, before they continue with an audible smile, "I'll talk to Fury. See what I can reveal."

Natasha settles in her seat, unable to keep the broad smile from her face. "I do trust you, Romanoff, I hope you know that… I just don't think I'll be who you expect."

As a trained spy, Natasha wouldn't let that last line slide, immediately thinking of its hidden meaning. But before she can ask further questions, her handler clears their throat. "I think it's time we actually start the mission debrief."

»»————-　★　————-««

Natasha can't wait for the meeting to end. She understands the need – giving her side of the story, answering questions, sharing the intelligence she'd gained – but it drags on without incident and without any further comments on her handler's identity, so she'd much rather be at home.

What reason was there for her not to do this from home? Her handler calls in from wherever they are, so realistically, Natasha could also pick up from wherever she is. Ideally at home, after a relaxing shower and a little time with her wife. Natasha supposes that's where the issue may lie: you, her wife, who has been led to believe Natasha is a security guard and nothing more. If you overheard a debrief, not only would SHIELD's confidentiality be compromised, but you might never forgive her lies. Natasha's home office was soundproofed though and, because of that, the assassin would take the risk if it means extra time with you.

Throughout Natasha's homeward journey and all through the mission debrief, you are the only thing to occupy her mind. Her mission finished in late afternoon, so she had planned how she would surprise you and spend the evening together upon her return, but then the debrief cropped up, and by the time her key is in the door, the sun has long since set, leaving her to wonder if you're even still awake.

You are. Just about. Your pyjama clad figure appears in Natasha's sight and you rush down the stairs to meet her by the door.

"You're home!" You beam as you wrap your arms over her shoulders and take her cue for a kiss.

"I am."

"How was your mission?" you tease. You know how seriously she takes each assignment, always doing prep work in her office ahead of the trips; she treated them akin to a secret mission and you never missed your chance to rag her for it.

One of your favourite methods of teasing is to liken her to James Bond, which only gets more realistic when you catch her mouthing along to the movie lines.

"Top secret. Can't tell you," your wife jokes back, her smile threatening to burst off her face.

"No injuries this time?"

"None at all."

"Good girl." She preens. "Have you had dinner?"

"Not yet, I came home as soon as I was done. Couldn't wait to see you."

"Sweet talker," you laugh and kiss her again, then take her by the hand, "I put some leftovers in the fridge, you clean up, then you can eat and share your 'top secret' thoughts."

The evening's plan formed just like that; you reheat the noodle dish while Natasha takes a shower, before the two of you come back together to sit at the dinner table.

"So, how was it really?" you ask her.

"The job itself was alright, no problem." Natasha replies, but by the way she's stabbing the noodles with her fork, you can tell something else is coming. "But my bosses…they just won't tell me all the information. Say it's 'above my clearance'."

"The cheek of them."

"Don't mock me."

"I'm not, I'm not! I promise, love," you say, though you can't hide your barely contained laughter thanks to the prominent pout on your wife's face. You school your face back into an expression of neutrality before you talk again, "that sounds annoying. Do you need this information?"

"No," she sighs, "it's just a matter of trust."

"Well, you must be working with idiots for them not to trust you after all this time."

"Mm, you reckon I should tell that to them?"

"You definitely should."

The smile comes back to Natasha's face as she shakes her head, "you're going to get me fired, sweetheart."

"You're too good for them to do that. Just keep it up, you're going to be leading them one day, I'm sure of it. Then all the secrets are yours."

»»————-　★　————-««

Another week, another mission. And with another mission comes another mission debrief. Natasha asked for her handler's identity three weeks ago and still knows nothing more. With how poorly her recent mission went, she doesn't even feel like asking the question again.

"What went wrong, Romanoff?" that same anonymous figure asks her, and Natasha can only groan: what didn't go wrong?

"We were ambushed to start with; whoever gave us the heads up got their information wrong, or someone sold us out. Either way, the plan went to shit the moment we arrived and the team went to shit by throwing mole accusations around. Splitting up only made it worse; nobody trusted their teammates to do their parts and it resulted in a mad scramble. My orders were ignored, but my team members were injured and I take full responsibility."

"That won't be necessary, Agent," the voice hums, "as leader, the responsibility falls on you, yes, but it is each agent's responsibility to trust in you and follow your plan, and you will not be faulted for working with idiots who don't trust you."

Natasha starts to defend her team, before the familiarity of the phrase has her searching through her mind for a recollection. What she does remember is a long shot, but she'll lose nothing by asking.

"Do you have a wife, Officer?"

"I do," they reply.

"Is she a redhead?"

"She is."

"Works for SHIELD?"

"Why, it's almost like you know her," the handler goades. If one had an illustrated list of all of SHIELD's employees, they would know that the short game of 'guess who' still left a couple dozen potential employees in the running, but the teasing and testing tone is the final clue Natasha needs to make her assumption.

"Y/N/N?"

"Hey love," you reply, with as much adoration as you can muster, glad to finally be rid of the voice modulator while you talked to your wife.

In front of Natasha, the screen flickers before the silhouette that had become so familiar to her is replaced by another familiar sight in another familiar location: the smiling face of her wife…in her office.

Natasha's face falls at once, striking you with panic that this wouldn't be the gleeful revelation that you'd expected; that is, until the assassin speaks again. "Is that my desk?"

"It's your whole office, my love. I'm not taking these calls from our bedroom."

"Is that why it's sound proofed?"

"I gave the approval for that, if you remember, and it's certainly not because you're taking SHIELD calls at home; you haven't even had one while we've lived together!"

"That's because you organise it straight after the mission so I don't have time to go home!"

"Because that's where I am! you'd be suspicious otherwise."

Natasha falls silent for a moment. You know her well enough to leave her to her thoughts, only twiddling your thumbs as you watch her through the screen.

"So can I do debriefs at home now?"

"I don't see why not," you shrug, "remember I still have to take notes though, so I get the desk and no cuddling until after."

"No chance of that."

"Come back now, Romanoff, and we can put it to the test," you challenge.

She accepts. "I'll be there in 30."

"I know."

»»————-　★　————-««

Tagging: @supercorpdanbeau (since you mentioned you’d like to read it on the original post!)

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x you #black widow #black widow x reader #black widow x y/n #black widow x you #marvel #mcu #fanfiction #ikan writes

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facts-i-just-made-up · 18 days

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How do you build a atomic bomb?

Easily!

All you need are a few household items, a little bit of patience, and a Class 1 Top Security clearance for the manufacture of biological, chemical or nuclear weapons under the Fermi laws of 1954 contingent to permission from the United Nations Security Council.

You're gonna need-

A box of matches

A blender

Tape

Some wire mesh (Like a window screen, for sifting)

Cake mix (Yellow sponge cake works best)

Ziplock bags

String

Ice cubes (The cold kind, not the rapper/actor)

A toilet paper tube

A Catholic Missal

An empty kitty litter bucket

First, you're gonna need two rare substances- Weapons grade uranium and "heavy" water. For the uranium, just take your yellow cake mix and sift it with the wire mesh. Whatever stays on top of the mesh- That's weapons grade. For the heavy water, take some ice cubes, which are heavier than water but still made of water, and put them in the blender. By breaking up the ice cubes and releasing the water, you keep the weight but make it a fluid. This is a process that scientists call "Putrefaction".

To build the weapon, pack some uranium into one end of the toilet paper tube and then cover that end with the Catholic Missal. This guarantees what we call a "Critical Mass" of uranium. Then take a smaller wad of uranium and pack it into the other end of the tube, leaving plenty of space between the two.

Tape the box of matches to that end of the tube. It will act as an explosive device to send the "bullet" of uranium into the critical mass, thus resulting in a nuclear fission explosion.

You now have a nuclear fission device! This device has a yield equal to about 10 thousand tons of T.N.T. But fission is for wimps, right? So let's turn that fission bomb, into a fusion bomb!

Tape your string to the matches to act as a fuse, and then put the nuclear warhead in a ziplock bag. Be sure to seal it tight! Now place that assembly into the kitty litter bucket. Make sure it's empty of kitty litter before the next step.

Fill the rest of the bucket with the heavy water you made in step one, and seal the top of the kitty litter bucket with the string still poking out. Once the fuse is lit, it will light the matches and detonate the nuclear fission bomb. This acts as a heat source to boil the heavy water, and when heavy water boils- Nuclear Fusion!

Congratulations, your bomb is now complete. Remember that it's illegal to carry or detonate a nuclear fusion warhead in public (except in Texas), and bear in mind this will be quite a bit stronger than your usual firecrackers. We recommend only setting off your nuclear device on official U.S. testing grounds, such as the desserts of New Mexico or islands in the Pacific only populated by tribes under no country's protection, because that's seriously what the U.S. did.

So play safe and have a good time,

-facts-i-just-made-up.tumblr.com

#nuclear weapons #atomic bomb #hydrogen bomb #global thermonuclear war #would you like to play a game #unreality

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misscherriously · 2 years

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godddddd how do people compose emails without crying from anxietyyyyyy T^T LORD IM A SORT OF ADULT HOW DO I DO THIS KIND OF ADULTING

#how do i #i need to compose at least ten emails #so i can start securing clearance #so i can transfer schools #but i'm here shAKING HDJKASHDKJASHD #IIYAKNAAKOSINASABIKONAAAAA

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bobgasm · 3 months

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good girl | b.f

pairing: robert “bob” floyd x f!reader word count: 3978 warnings: mild idiots to lovers, smut, nsfw [18+ only], unprotected sex, semi-public sex, dirty talk,

summary: in which you have a chat with bob that doesn’t go the way you intended it to, but he more than makes up for it

author’s note: happy birthday to my bby lewis! 🥳♥️ best to read the snappening first 🤭 if you want to be notified when i post, follow and turn on post notifications for @bobgasm-library 😁

the snappening | masterlist | awards season

You hate that your alarm is waking you at 5 am. You hate that you got super drunk last night. Mostly, you hate that you crossed a line with Bob. You didn’t know what the day held in store for you, but a chat about what happened was inevitable.

You groaned as you slid into the shower and tried to wash the disgusting feeling from your body.

The plan was simple. You’d arrive at work early and get settled for the day, then disappear to grab coffee once everyone had arrived. It meant that you could delay the chat with Bob temporarily, giving you time to stew over the situation instead of tackling it head on.

Yeah, this grown-up shit was so easy.

You got settled at your desk and grinned at the email that had been flagged. It was a mission briefing for Bob and Phoenix, so you stopped into your boss’ office to let him know. Haywire was a hard man to work for, but as his assistant, you made it work.

Haywire appreciated the information – he hadn’t yet checked his computer, but he knew about the mission. As his assistant, you had a high security clearance, but more importantly, his trust. He relied on you to ask the questions a lot of people wouldn’t typically ask a superior, either out of nerves or fear. It was expected of you to sit in on mission briefings for that exact reason – Haywire liked his pilots to be well informed of any and all risks.

This mission briefing wouldn’t be any different. As you left, he made the call to Phoenix and Bob, so you headed down the hall to prepare some coffee and try to gather your bearings. He wasn’t even here yet, but the memories of last night had your toes curling and heat warming your cheeks.

Your heart roared in your ears as you looked up and saw Bob walking in through the doors. He gave you a polite nod and smile, but you weren’t even expecting that. You gave him a small smile back, taking in his appearance.

He wore his flight suit, and Phoenix fell into step beside him. You knew they likely had an early morning training scheduled, which had now been delayed by this new mission briefing. You stopped yourself before you got caught staring, but he smirked at you like he knew. Like he knew where your mind had drifted to, even if it was for a fleeting moment.

You held his gaze, refusing to back down, and watched them disappear into Haywire’s office. You collected a few mugs from the cupboard in anticipation of Haywire calling out for two more, already one step ahead of him. He caught sight of the four mugs lined up, met your eye, and quickly provided his help to carry them all back to the office before starting the briefing.

You sat beside Haywire’s desk, legs crossed as you sipped your coffee and tried to avoid looking at Bob. It was inevitable though. By the time your eyes settled on his face, he was already looking at you.

Your head was swimming as you replayed the videos from last night in your head. The sounds he made.

Good girl.

Fuck. You squeezed your legs together at the thought. The thought that he actually wanted you the way you wanted him, and that it wasn’t just the alcohol talking. That you hadn’t just risked your livelihood for the sake of an orgasm.

You tried to focus on the mission briefing as Haywire talked, handing out folders to both Bob and Phoenix. They both wore stoic expressions, listening intently to what was needed of them. Haywire outlined the importance of their mission – recon only. They were going in with no backup which was risky, but the images they had of the site were dated.

“Our next move will be to send a SEAL team in once we’ve got a better visual of the site,” Haywire proceeded. “Those men will be your backup.”

“But no air support,” you countered. “What if the site has grown and they’ve got an updated defense system? It’s a suicide mission.”

“It’s the mission,” Haywire replied.

“Would you take the same risk if you’d been given the mission instead?” You asked him. “Are you really willing to let two people be shot out of the sky and killed, or taken hostage? The SEAL team is only good if there’s hostages to rescue, but how long until they get the green light to move in? Assuming they’re still alive, of course, or would that be another recon mission determining that?”

Phoenix and Bob both shifted uncomfortably. You could only assume they’d been thinking along the same lines.

The choice was simple, and Haywire made the correct one. He called his superior, Admiral Shaw, who’d sent down the mission briefing. Why he wasn’t present for it was a mystery, but Phoenix and Bob seemed a little less tense after hearing your words being repeated to someone who would actually go to bat for them.

When Haywire ended the call by promptly slamming the phone home, you jumped a little. Startled by the dramatics.

“They’ll get back to us with updates,” Haywire said. “You’re dismissed, Lieutenants.”

You stuck around in the office for a minute once Bob and Phoenix left, letting Haywire debrief you on what the plan was. Your questioning had brought up some very good points that needed addressing, and his superiors would figure it out. He thanked you and dismissed you, hoping it didn’t take them long to figure out the semantics of the briefing.

“Why are you so jumpy today?” Phoenix asked you. You shot her a cautiative look as you waited for Bob to get far enough away. “Does it have something to do with Bob?”

You huffed. “You’re too observant for your own good,” you stated, dragging her down the hallway and pushing her inside an empty office. “I’m only telling you this because you have a secret of your own that you don’t want to get out.”

You paused as you watched her try to swallow the lump in her throat. Yeah, you knew she had a thing going on with Coyote. How you’d found that out was need to know.

“I accidentally sent him a video of me masturbating last night. I was hoping to try and avoid him, but that’s not going so well,” you explained, pressing your hands into your eyes to try and quell the headache you were starting to develop.

“Did he watch it?”

“Yes, and sent his own back,” you said, blowing out a deep breath. “I’m freaking out. I can’t avoid this conversation forever. I just…I don’t think it’s a conversation to be had before your mission, you know?”

You didn’t hold your breath. Even your own words sounded like lies to your ears.

+++

By the time lunch came around, you were anxious. Heading to the dining hall on base to meet with Phoenix like usual, hoping she wouldn’t ask for any further information about the Bob situation. You planned on keeping it to the more important shit, like the mission they were going on. You even anticipated a question or two thrown your way, so prepared a couple to ask her instead.

Thankfully, lunch was a standard affair. Phoenix sat with another couple of pilots who you knew and greeted warmly, making yourself comfortable at the table and engaging in friendly conversation.

Bob lingered off to the side of the cafeteria. You caught his eye and he nodded his head slightly, gesturing for you to follow him.

Your breath caught in your throat as you stood up and followed him without a glance back at Phoenix or the other pilots. Trailing behind Bob with as much dignity as you could muster before steeling yourselves away in the privacy of an empty office.

“Hi,” he said sweetly. You couldn’t resist rolling your eyes, making him laugh. “Yeah, I know, but I never actually said it this morning and, truthfully, I’ve been trying to figure out what to say to you all day.”

“Hi,” you replied, giving him a small smile. You couldn’t help it. Whenever he smiled you felt the need to reciprocate, even if it wasn’t aimed at you, but it was amazing when it was. “I’ve been doing the same, honestly. I don’t even know where to start.”

He nodded in understanding, resting back against the desk. Not quite sitting, but not quite standing either. Hands resting in his lap, with one ankle crossed over the other.

“I need you to hear what I’m not saying,” he told you. You nodded slowly in understanding. “I can’t do anything while we work together. I know how much you like your job here, just like I like mine. While there’s nothing to say that interpersonal relationships aren’t allowed, they’re not exactly welcomed unless you’re married.”

You hummed, once again nodding slowly. “So it’s business as normal, right?” You asked, following his train of thought.

“As normal as it gets around here,” he said.

You nodded. “Do you regret that it happened?”

“No, not at all. Do you?” You shook your head. “I’m not trying to make this awkward.”

“Don’t worry, I’m doing a good job of that myself,” you replied, earning a small chuckle. “I should…go. Lots to do today.”

“It doesn’t need to be like this.”

“It does, Bob,” you stated. “At least for now, anyway, because this isn’t exactly welcomed.”

He sighed as you slipped out of the office. You hadn’t meant to throw his words back at him, you knew his heart was in the right place, but he was only delaying the conversation further. Who knows what this week would have in store for you, but you just hoped that their mission went off without a hitch.

After lunch you went straight back to work, responding to some emails before you were dragged into a meeting with Haywire. You kept minutes while the men talked about other classified missions. You did your best to keep up with the chatter, but the conversation was hectic. Everyone spoke overtop of one another and you could barely register who said what.

And then you started thinking about the situation with Bob.

Had you blown it, with your actions of the previous night and your passive aggressiveness towards him earlier? You knew he was only thinking of your job, and you did appreciate that. But you’d gotten yourself into this situation, too. You could decide how to play this out, you didn’t need to rely on him.

Yet you hadn’t said that to him when you had the chance. You hid behind your cowardice and let him decide how it was going to work. Let him call the shots, and for what? Because you were too scared to lose your job, or too scared to lose him?

The meeting dragged on, but you slipped out when a few of the men did the same, essentially ending the meeting. Lou kept you company as you typed up the minutes before disappearing into Haywire’s office. He’d apparently gotten a call about the new mission briefing that enlisted extra air support and a few extra contingency plans. In not so many words, all the Daggers were now being sent on this mission, which filled you with a lot more confidence. And, no doubt, did the same for Phoenix and Bob.

You tried to finish up the email you’d been working on for Lou, but you had to ask him a question about it before you sent it. Sighing, you reached for your bottle of water and took a few sips, allowing yourself a moment to relax.

It wasn’t long before all of the Daggers showed up and headed into Haywire’ office. He hadn’t asked you to sit in, so you stayed put until he called for you.

You exhaled heavily and slumped back in your seat, wishing the day would just end already. When Haywire eventually called for you, you stood in the doorway since there were already six extra bodies in the room.

“The reason you’re all here is because of that woman there,” Haywire said. “She pointed out flaws in Bob and Phoenix’s mission, which has caused me more work today trying to get approval to send air support. This is where the rest of you come in.”

Haywire spent the next twenty minutes outlining the new mission parameters, as well as answering any questions the aviators had.

“So we get to work with SEAL’s?” Hangman asked.

You rolled your eyes at his enthusiasm, noting how Bob stifled a laugh.

“Not directly. The SEAL team is four days from the location. You’ll be moving out in two days at 1600 hours in order for them to be in position when you do your flyby.”

He continued to bring the rest of the team up to speed. Detailing exactly how this mission would be flown and everything they’d be needing to do. This was still very much Phoenix and Bob’s mission, but now they had support. They weren’t as nervous to fly this mission knowing they had immediate backup.

You excused yourself before the meeting was over to take a phone call at your desk, explaining that you’d get Haywire to call them back when he was free.

When Lou came back out, you picked his brain to finalise the email before sending it, then made a beeline to the bathroom. You didn’t need to go, not really, but you locked yourself in a stall and sat on the closed lid of the toilet. Hoping that by the time you made it back to your desk, the Daggers wouldn’t be in Haywire’s office anymore and you didn’t have to see Bob.

You felt so frustrated by the situation you’d made for yourself. Frustrated that you’d let this happen. You took a few deep breaths before emerging, washing your hands just for a reason to stay in there a little bit longer.

By the time you made it back to your desk, a few people had started to leave. They’d be back in the early hours of the morning, ready to make a start on whatever was needed before the carrier took off in the next few days.

When the clock hit 5, you took Phoenix up on her offer of dinner and waited for her outside the barracks. Barely five minutes had passed before Bob was hollering your name down the hallway.

You slowly turned around and saw him beckon you towards Coyote’s room. With a sigh, you walked down the hallway with as much confidence as you could muster.

“You told Phoenix?” He asked you.

“Like she’s a saint here,” you replied, staring between her and Coyote.

“You told her?” Coyote asked in horror.

You were all in similar stages of distress and you felt backed into a corner. So you laughed. You laughed because how the hell had you all found yourself in similar situations? Bob soon joined in, and before you knew it, Phoenix and Coyote had too.

It was ridiculous. Of course it was. And it was awkward as hell, so you laughed your way out of it. Swiping at your eyes as the laughter died down and you were soon pinned beneath Bob’s gaze.

“Dinner tonight?” He asked. “Please say ‘yes.’”

“Yeah,” you agreed stupidly. “I’ve got a couple things to finish up but it shouldn’t take too long.”

“I’ll keep you company.” He grabbed his coffee before you both left, leaving Coyote and Phoenix to deal with their own mess. “Do you actually have much to do or was that just an excuse to get out of there?”

“I have shit to do but it can wait until tomorrow,” you told him, packing up your things you’d left outside Phoenix’s room. “Where do you want to go?”

“There’s a hole-in-the-wall Italian place not too far away,” he replied, digging his hand into his pocket. His keys jingled, and you gave a nod. “I’ll drive.”

You followed him outside, watching your feet rather than staring at his back like you wanted to. When you reached his car, you slid into the passenger seat. Swiftly buckling your seat belt as he did the same and turned the engine over.

“I’m sorry about earlier,” he apologised. “About how I chose to handle things.”

“By passing the blame onto the fraternisation policy?” You asked, just to clarify. You turned your head enough to look at him, glad he at least looked ashamed about it.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “The truth is that I was trying to buy more time to figure out what I really wanted to say.”

“Have you figured that out now?”

“Yes,” he replied, letting silence wash over you.

“Okay? Are you going to share with the class or make me guess?”

He chuckled softly. “I thought it was obvious.”

“I want to hear you say it, Bob.”

Your heart thundered in your ears as he spoke, “I want you. I have for…god, too long now. I don’t even care if that initial video wasn’t intended for me, because you moaned my name as you came and it was the hottest fucking thing I’ve ever heard.”

The car was parked in the back of a parking lot, away from the strip of restaurants to your left. You’d been too busy watching him, staring at him. Admiring the way his arms flexed as he rolled the steering wheel between his hands. The way his mouth moved as he talked…telling you everything you wanted to hear.

“It’s not the first time,” you confessed, voice low. So low he turned to look at you and you could see the lust clouding his vision. The way his eyelids drooped slightly as he took in your heady expression. “I imagine you every time.”

“Get in the back,” he told you, and you were quick to scramble into the back seat, over the centre console. He followed behind you, lifting you up with little effort and settling you down in his lap.

His hands gripped your hips firmly, and you placed your own on his chest. Feeling his heart racing beneath your touch. Because of your touch. Because of the implications of what was to come.

“Kiss me, Bob,” you requested, running your hands through his short hair. He leant forward and closed the gap, lips pressed firmly against yours.

You melted into his touch, kissing him back without hesitation. His fingers lifted your shirt, skimming up along your sides. You moaned at his light touch, goosebumps raising on your flesh. He bit down on your lip in response, feeling you shift against him.

He groaned as you tugged his hair. “You gonna be a good girl and ride me?”

You rolled your hips against him one more time, feeling his growing erection pressed against your core.

“Fuck you for calling me ‘good girl,’” you said.

He chuckled, brushing some hair back from your face. “But you are,” he said softly, breathily. “And I want you to ride me.”

There was something about the way he looked at you so carnally, like an animal staring down its prey, that had you removing your shirt without a second thought. You wanted him so badly, in any way you could get him. You didn’t care you were currently both trying to undress in the back of his car, or that anyone could walk by at any time.

Both of you in varying states of undress, Bob stroking his cock as you straddled his lap once again. Sliding his hand between your thighs, a breathy moan falling past your lips.

“So fucking wet for me, baby,” he said, pressing two thick fingers inside your heat. You groaned at the intrusion, hands gripping his shoulders as he worked you over. Making sure his fingers were nice and slick before wrapping them around his cock again and positioning his tip at your entrance.

He gripped your hips as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. He bit his lip, eyes glued to where the two of you were connected. You whimpered at the angle, at the feeling of him finally inside you after years of fantasising.

“So deep,” you panted. “Fuck, Bob.”

He groaned as you rolled your hips, cunt clenching around him. “Knew you’d be so tight…so fucking wet. Feels like heaven, baby.”

You gasped as he wrapped his mouth around your nipple, over the top of your bra. Hands wound into his hair as you rocked your hips, lifting and sinking rhythmically.

His teeth grazed against the taut nub he was suckling on before paying the same attention to your other breast. You gasped and threw your head back, scratching your nails against his scalp.

He moaned, the vibrations coursing through your body. Your hips rocked a little harder against him, gasping at the tightness in your lower abdomen. He watched you lower your hand between your bodies, two fingers circling your clit and bringing you that much closer to your high.

“I didn’t say you could cum, baby girl,” he warned you.

“Please, Bob!” You whined. He gripped your ass, holding you up and refusing to let you keep going. “Fuck, please.”

“Please what?” He asked you. You pressed your forehead to his, a whimper falling past your lips.

“Please…wanna cum on your cock,” you begged. “Thought you wanted to feel me come undone around your cock, Bobby?”

“Fuck,” he groaned. “I do. But if you cum like this I’m not gonna be able to pull out.”

“So don’t,” you told him, taking his face between your hands. “Wanna feel you finish inside me, Bob.”

He kissed you roughly, teeth clashing as his tongue invaded your mouth. You moaned as his fingertips dug into your hips, his own snapping up as he fucked you.

You tugged at his hair, or pawed at his chest. So close to your orgasm, wanting to touch yourself. Wanting to tease your clit until you came all over his cock. Until he had you chanting his name and memorising the way he felt inside you. The way he made you feel.

The way you wanted him to continue making you feel, even when things went back to normal. Especially then.

“Fuck yes, squeeze my cock just like that,” he goaded, head thrown back as your cunt tightened and your body started quivering. “Feels so fucking good, baby. So fucking tight.”

“I wanna cum, Bob,” you pleaded. “Wanna cum all over your cock. Wanna feel you filling me up.”

He grunted, thrusts becoming harsher. His hand smacking your ass roughly as you matched his pace. You slipped your hand between your bodies once again, toying with your clit. Winding that coil so tight within your abdomen that you didn’t realise you were cumming until you collapsed into him. His hips thrusting upwards, grunting once, twice, three times before he stilled. Holding you close as he came undone inside you.

You wanted to stay wrapped in him forever, but your body felt like jelly and he was still talking to you.

“Such a good girl riding me, baby,” he said, lightly stroking your back. “Knew you’d feel so good wrapped around my cock. Such a pretty little thing, fucking hell.”

You hummed, lips pressed against his neck. Feeling his pulse beating rapidly against your mouth, chests flush together and bodies still connected.

“You feel so good, Bob, so right,” you told him, drunk off the post-coital euphoria. “Don’t want this to end. Don’t want you to go.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promised you. You lifted your head to look at him and he smoothed your hair back from your face. “I wanna take you home. Can I take you home?”

“Yeah, take me home.”

#robert bob floyd #bob floyd #international bob floyd fucks month #ibff #robert bob floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x you #bob floyd x reader #bob floyd x you #bob floyd smut #robert bob floyd smut

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scar-crossedlvrs · 10 months

Note

All hail ID! Leon!!! I’m wondering how he would reacts when his Reader! young gf got kidnapped or been taken as hostage. Let’s just say maybe she got at the wrong place wrong time? Chris and Leon partnered up to save her 🫢 (I don’t want Leon go thru this alone, he got enough shit already tbh)

(I don’t know if you’re gonna write this up or not but whatever it is, stay safe and take care of yourself gorl 🩵)

Leon S Kennedy - Help Me

ID!Leon is my favorite Leon no questions about it. I have this headcanon that ID!Leon is the one with the most confidence in his skills & second most optimistic Leon era just due to his successes ( saving ashley and the ‘dozens of successful missions’ that shen mei references ). Anyway, watch me rip that all away in one fell swoop.

cw for : f!reader, kidnapping, swearing, blood mention, implied age gap (up to you tbh), reckless driving, chris redfield, it’s mostly just a mess of angst and anger.

gentle reminder that all of my works sfw or not are intended for 18+ audiences.

The inbox is open for requests.

How many times had he told you to lock the goddamned doors?

Fingers drum against the steering wheel as he weaves in and out of traffic. His phone trilled in his ear as he drove and the longer it rang, the more his gut bubbled with anxiety.

“Pick up the fucking phone Redfield.”

The scene was still vivid in his mind. Your front door slightly ajar as he pulled up to your house. Leon had immediately been put on edge by this. The overwhelming feeling of panic however, didn’t set in until he noticed the bright red smear across the white painted wood.

Inside the house wasn’t much better, turned over from top to bottom. Every single one of your meticulously placed photos and knickknacks were strewn smashed on the floor, broken glass, plastic and porcelain everywhere. All decorated with a spattering of red. The same scene played out in each and every one of the rooms. It didn't seem to be a run of the mill robbery though. Nothing of value was missing, nothing besides you.

The worst part was the way your phone went to voicemail every single time he called.

“Hello?”

Leon’s torn from his thoughts at the sound of the voice on the other end of the phone. Chris Redfield.

“Answer the phone any slower?” he’s snappy, frustrated, scared.

It must have been obvious, with the way the concern laced into Chris’s words. “Leon? Is something wrong?”

“She’s gone, Chris. The house is a mess and her phone just goes straight to voicemail. Someone was there, and I think they took her.”

The word vomit just spews from his lips as he switches lanes again, white-knuckling the steering wheel as icy eyes dart around. He’s not sure where he’s going, what he’s looking for. He’s not sure of anything anymore.

Had he gotten too cocky, too lax in his security? Everything had been going so well since Ashley. He had been saving people. What the fuck went wrong? Fuck, he should have pressed the issue harder when he asked you to move in with him. At least there he could have kept a better eye on you, kept you safe. This wouldn’t have happened.

Leon was spiraling.

“Are you still with me, Kennedy?” Chris’s voice broke through the haze again.

"Yeah." Barely.

"You sure she was at home? She's probably just not answering your calls."

Chris didn't know you, didn't know that you didn't just ignore phone calls, especially not his calls. You weren't just ignoring him.

"I wouldn't have called you if I thought she was just ignoring my calls. The place was torn up Redfield. Whoever it was, was looking for something. There was blood fucking everywhere." His words came out more aggressive than intended.

They had to, he needed to get his point across.

“Okay, yeah that’s bad. But I can’t just get clearance to do anything..”

“I’m not asking you to deploy the BSAA. I’m asking you to help me” Leon cut him off.

The silence that hangs makes him regret calling Chris. Had he made a call to the wrong Redfield? He should have just called Claire. She wouldn’t have hesitated so much, wouldn’t have wasted so much time. That was if she even picked up the phone.

Either way, for once, he couldn’t do this on his own. Not like this.

"Go home. I'll meet you there. We'll figure this out okay? Don't do anything stupid Leon."

"Yeah."

---

Your head is aching, forehead damp with sweat or blood ( you're not sure which ), feet sore and bloodied from stumbling through the shattered glass on your living room floor. Eyes are covered with a thick blindfold, and the room is dark and quiet.

All alone with your thoughts. Thoughts of how you ended up here. How you had been so distracted, unable to notice the men coming in through the unlocked front door. One snatching you up as the other set out to look for something, smashing everything in his path. Your screams fell on deaf ears, feet being dragged through the mess on the floor as you struggled to break free.

Until a sharp pain to the back of the head forced you into unconsciousness.

There's the sound of shuffling, metal clinking, and there's something pressed to your ear. A phone? There's a few moments of trilling rings before a voice answers with a panicked "Hello?"

"Leon?"

Your voice is hoarse from the screaming earlier, and tears sting at your eyes.

"Baby where are you?" You've never heard him sound like this, scared.

"I don't know, Lee. Help me. I don't know where I am. It's dark and I'm scared."

Before he can respond, the phone is pulled from your ear. The scream ripped from your throat as his voice was cut off by the phone being hung up. A sharp laugh caused a shiver to course through you as you struggled against your bindings.

"Think that got his attention, hm princess?"

________________________________________________

uh i don't know where I was going to go with this, meaning cliffhanger!!! one person says they want more & i'll plan out more <3

#leon s kennedy #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy angst #tea writes things

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muertawrites · 2 years

Text

I Know What Those Stains Are (Eddie Munson x Reader)

Summary: i feel like robin’s face explains it all, really

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: PG-13 references to s*x and dr*gs, Robin being the best worst friend (ilhsm), pure shenanigans, harsh language in the author’s note bc i’m a motherfucking lady and you bitches can’t do shit about it

Author’s Note: this ended up longer than i thought it would but it was worth it tbh. i stg dissociating with eddie munson-colored glasses on is the only thing keeping me sane right now. i’m so fucking depressed. pray for me to finish my masters dissertation and immediately fuck right out of the shithole i’m stuck in to the life i fucking deserve ✌🏻

"Eddie has these... weird stains on his sheets."

Robin stares at you pointedly from the other side of your kitchen island, her lips curled into a tiny, knowing smirk.

Damn her and her privileged security clearance.

Being best friends ("We're soulmates," Robin always insists) means you have a pact - top secret information is kept closely between you, nothing held back or excluded. She'd come out to you before she even came out to her parents because she knew you wouldn't be weird about it. Your relationship is one of pure, unadulterated, platonic adoration, which means everything is safe.

And is exactly why she's pried about your "friendship" (as she refers to it, always with air quotes) with Eddie Munson since the two of you started hanging out a little over a year ago. He fixed your car at a steep discount when it needed emergency service; when you ran into him at one of his shows the following week, you bought him a drink to thank him, and the rest is history.

"I've never been in his room so I wouldn't know," you lie.

Robin laughs.

"You call me from his place once a week," she retorts. "It's a suspicious amount of time to spend with the local pot dealer for someone who freaks out with even the slightest contact high."

"I told you, he's just nice," you groan. "What's so bad about me hanging out with a nice guy? You've seen the guys I usually get caught up with, and you have to admit, Eddie's a huge improvement."

Robin snaps her attention back to you, eyes wide and smile wider as she freezes over the popcorn she's watching on the stove.

"So you admit it," she says. "He's... a guy... and he’s... huge..."

She waggles her eyebrows. You grab a marshmallow from the open pack on the counter and lob it at her, smacking her right between the eyes.

"He's a boy that I'm friends with," you correct her. "That doesn't make him my boyfriend."

"Does this friendship come with a benefits package?"

She gives you bedroom eyes over her shoulder, taunting you. You stare back at her, expressionless.

"You went into an alternate dimension," you comment, "and all you can think to talk to me about are Eddie Munson’s sheets. Unbelievable."

"You also went into that dimension," Robin reminds you. "There's nothing I can say that you haven't already seen. You guys have just gotten a lot closer since we all saved the world together, and I was just... wondering."

She shrugs like it means nothing as she transfers the popcorn from its pan into a bowl, but her cheeky gaze through her lashes at you tells you otherwise.

She totally knows. She's just waiting for you to admit it.

The rumble of an engine outside cuts your conversation short, the familiar clunk of a door slamming shut making your heart leap into your throat. Robin notices the tiny change in your expression, how your eyes light up the moment the van rolls into your driveway, and her smirk grows all the more sinister.

"Prince Charming has arrived," she teases.

You aggressively ignore her as Eddie's heavy footsteps ring down the hall, the man himself appearing moments later. You're thankful when he refrains from kissing you on the cheek, as he usually does the second he’s close enough.

"Hey!" he greets you both, slapping a large hand on your shoulder in an entirely friendly, totally unromantic display of affection. Robin isn't immune to the way his hand stays there, migrating to the back of your neck, his thumb tenderly stroking at your skin.

"What brings you over, party crasher?" she wonders.

"Oh, just dropping off a mixtape."

He slips the cassette smoothly into your hand, which you cover up with the sleeve of your sweatshirt before Robin has a chance to glimpse what's on the label.

"Mind if I grab a beer?" Eddie asks. "Partake in some popcorn?"

"You're gonna do it anyway, so go crazy," you reply.

He grins sweetly at you, giving your bum an appreciative squeeze below the counter where Robin can't see it.

"Too late!"

He bounds out of the room, disappearing into the living room with a Bud Lite and a fistful of popcorn in his hand. Your “girls only” movie night has just become a “girls only plus Eddie” one.

The air in the room grows tense. You stand perfectly still, both you and Robin staring each other down, waiting to see who’ll speak first. Her gaze is smoldering, burning into yours with ruthless intention.

“Didn’t know you guys had an open doors policy,” she finally notes. “It’s all very... interesting.”

She slowly starts to stalk around the corner of the island, trailing her hand nonchalantly (or what she thinks is nonchalantly) across the countertop. You back up, taking one step for each of hers, knowing exactly what she’s about to do.

That still doesn’t stop you from shrieking as she jumps you, her hands snatching at the cassette tape now tucked inside your sweatshirt sleeve.

“Robin, you’re acting totally feral!” you yell, trying in vain to keep her out of your shirt.

She cackles as she wrestles the little rectangle of plastic from your grasp, shoving her hand into your face to keep you back as you claw at her. Her eyes widen and jaw drops as she reads the label, an incredulous laugh escaping her throat.

“Songs We’re Gonna Bone To?!” she howls, reading the title aloud. “Oh my god, you guys made a mixtape to have sex to?! I knew it!”

You cross your arms, pressing your lips harshly together as you glare at her, wishing you could make her head explode.

“See, this is why I didn’t say anything,” you quip. “... And Eddie made it, not me.”

Robin’s neck audibly cracks, she turns around so fast. She looks like a seven year old kid who’s just woken up on Christmas morning.

“What’s on it?” she whispers.

She’s out the door before you can answer, sprinting down the hall into your bedroom and smacking the tape inside your player so fast she’s little more than a blur. Queen’s Fat Bottomed Girls starts blaring from the speakers, causing a fierce blush to erupt across your cheeks. She slaps the skip button, moving on to KISS’s I Was Made For Lovin’ You, followed by Def Leppard’s Pour Some Sugar On Me. You bury your face in your hand, entirely unable to meet her gaze as she savors your embarrassment.

“What a massive cheese ball,” she chuckles. “Is the sex good, though? Like, he’s given you at least one orgasm, right?”

You’re laying face down on your bed, craving the sweet release of death when Eddie appears in the doorway.

“Why the hell’s everyone screaming?” he questions, frantic. “Did another portal open up? Baby, are you okay?”

“Aaaaaahhhh he calls you BABY!” Robin shrieks. She doubles over, collapsing to the floor in hysterical laughter.

You sit up, taking one of the pillows off your mattress and chucking it at Eddie. He catches it, just barely, stumbling backward in shock and confusion.

“Change your fucking sheets, Munson!”

🌹💀 get your eddie fix 💀🌹

#muerta's works #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson x you smut

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catcze · 8 months

Note

Boxer wriothesley making out with you after a fight

16+ !! Suggestive content !!

Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

「 FEAT : 」 Wriothesley x GN! reader

「 ### : 」 Fluff, some suggestive content & mentions of sex but nothing actually 18+. Modern au !!

「 CWS : 」 Written pre release so potentially ooc !! Light mentions of injuries. making out 🥴. established relationship. Hand holding & hair pulling. Wriothesley lifts you up at one point and is so down bad. Wriothesley calls the reader sweetheart and baby. Reader wears perfume. Author knows jack shit about boxing and has never watched a boxing match so please excuse any and all inaccuracies

I got this ask and blacked out i saw red i was caught in a whole TRANCE do not perceive me i lost my sanity as i wrote this because the feelings that overcame me at the thought of shirtless, post-fight Wriothesley who shines w/ sweat and is full of post-match adrenaline was too much for my mental capacity to bear

The route to Wriothesley's locker room is one that you can navigate with your eyes closed— a confidence born from familiarity. Every time after a match, whether he wins or he loses, you always find your way from your front row seat to the door you stand before now. The first few times, he had instructed his managers to come pluck you up from your front row seat and escort you, but now the staff just bring you as far as the backstage security clearance, leaving you to find your own way.

You knock on the hard door twice, giving it a moment, then enter—

— and you're immediately swept up into Wriothesley's arms, a startled yelp escaping you as you clutch his shoulders on instinct.

"Hey, sweetheart," Wriothesley murmurs, pressing his nose to your neck while he holds you aloft, your legs tightly around his bare torso. He breathes your perfume in once, twice, like he can't get enough of it. "You enjoy the show?"

"Wriothesley!" you gasp, trying to tug free of his hold, gripping his hair and trying to pull him off of you to no avail. He stubbornly melts even more against you, pushing your back further against the door you came in through. "Put me down! You should be resting right now, not-"

"Not enjoying the fruit of my victory?" he teases against your neck, his tongue licking up the skin, making heat pool in your belly. Your shiver does not go unnoticed, and you can feel the quirk of his lips where they're pressed up against your neck. "'m fine, baby. Already got checked out and everything. Just need to go home and get some ice, that's all," he reassures you, pressing kisses to your neck and the side of your face, his hands squeezing your thighs appreciatively as he keeps you pinned up against the door.

You relax against him then, glad that he's mostly fine. The match had been over quick, anyways— it hadn't dragged out long enough for him to get hurt too badly. He had definitely walked away in much better shape than his opponent, at least.

The hand in his hair stops trying to tug him away, instead pulling him closer. You scratch his scalp and untangle little knots in his hair while he takes his fill of lathering attention onto your skin, making him purr delightedly in between leaving marks and bites wherever his mouth can reach.

When he adjusts his hold on you to free one hand (there's a zing in your veins when he effortlessly holds you up with ease) so it can play with the edge of your shirt, you reach down to pull it away, weaving your fingers together instead.

"We can't fuck in your locker room," you tell him resolutely, a frown on your face. "You have an interview when you go out and your managers will have your head and mine if you go on air looking like you just smashed."

He sighs but acquesces, pulling away from your neck to level his face just a few inches from yours. "Just a kiss, then. That okay?"

You nod and he's on you in an instant. With the short time you both have, Wriothesley hardly dawdles as his tongue traces along the seam of your mouth, instantly dipping in when you grant him entrance. There's a sigh from you and a low groan from him when his tongue meets your own, and he squeezes your hand that's still connected to his.

Wriothesley bites down on your bottom lip, making you gasp and pull him harder against you by his hair. You can feel his heartbeat where his chest is pressed against yours, the sweat on him making him stick to you. Fingers dig into the meat of your thighs, his thumb drawing shapes you can't make out in your kiss-fueled haze.

His tongue licks the inside of your mouth, sighs of bliss transferring from his mouth into yours. "You're so good to me, baby," Wriothesley mumbles against your lips, eyes half lidded and something hungering behind them.

You can't even bring it in yourself to speak, tugging him closer once again because in that moment he is focusing too much on speaking and not enough on kissing you. He chuckles at your desperation, but gives in to you as he always does, letting himself be dragged further into your embrace.

Fuck it, the words are on the tip of your tongue. Fuck the interview. Put your hands under my shirt kiss me somewhere else—

Knock knock.

Like a gunshot, your eyes fly open at the interruption and you hand jolts, accidentally pulling on his hair too hard and making him hiss when he detaches from you. "Sorry, sorry," you murmur to him, pressing a fleeting peck to his lips. Now, it is your turn to bury your nose into his neck.

"You good in there?" The voice of his manager comes floating through the door, muffled. "The interviewer's been waiting a while by now, you know."

"Right, right. Be out in a bit." He hopes his manager doesn't realize that his voice is far too close to the door than it normally should be.

Wriothesley has to stifle a dissatisfied sound, maneuvering you off the door and gently placing you down on the bench in the room, mindful of the way your legs shake. A gentle kiss is placed to the crown of your head, then to the back of the hand he holds before he lets go.

"Sorry, sweetheart," he says in a low rumble, voice deepened from the makeout. His lips are swollen from all the kissing— you hope people attribute it to his fight instead of a post-fight makeout. "Sit tight here, I'll come back for you when I'm done."

Then that hunger reappears in his eyes and his smile gets the slightest bit sharper. "We'll go home and continue where we left off. I promise."

#「 🐈‍⬛ 」 catcze.desserts #Wriothesley x reader #Genshin Impact x reader #Wriothesley #Genshin Impact #Cw GN reader #Cw Suggestive Content #if anyone wants an alt where you DO do the dirty in the locker room lmk 👀👀

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queenshelby · 9 months

Text

Chemical Reactions (P. 9)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy as J Robert Oppenheimer x Student Reader

Warning: Age-Gap, Infidelity, Smut

Words: 2,678

Note: The fic is spoiler free and my own fantasy and imagination. It is not historically and scientifically accurate.

Previous Parts: 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6; 7; 8

THIS PART IS DIALOGUE HEAVY AND PART EIGHT WILL BE SIMILAR, BOTH PARTS ARE NECESSARY THOUGH TO EXPAND THE STORY.

Two weeks later...

Just as General Groves had anticipated, the following week, you made your way to Robert’s final lecture at Berkley which was held in front of an audience of about fifty students.

The lecture itself was not relevant to your thesis but you knew that you had to see him, in an aim to clear things up.

You managed to get a letter to him through Professor Lawrance in the past few days, hidden within your thesis papers and, even though Lawrance told you as well that Robert was no longer your supervisor, you insisted for Robert to read it, seeing that her was the expert in this field.

After you begged, of course, Lawrance agreed to provide the paper to his colleague and, whilst you hoped that Robert would respond to your letter, he did not. At least not until now which is when you sat inside the lecture hall and he handed out some papers to everyone.

“I suggest that you read page two carefully Miss Y/LN” he told you quietly when, finally, he approached you amongst the other students and, of course, you knew what he meant by that and skipped right ahead to the page he mentioned.

“Thank you doctor” you told him as he moved on and handed out the remaining papers to the other students while, at the back of the hall, you could see two men watching the lecture and Robert’s interactions with you. They were spies for sure and you knew that, when hopefully getting to see him, you had to do so without being seen yourself.

Robert though played them well. He was nothing but professional towards you and the note he had hidden on page two was not noticeable to anyone but you.

“Meet me at Lawrance’s office. 3 o’clock. We need to talk” it said and, of course, you already knew what this was going to be about. He was going to tell you exactly what General Groves had already told you, namely that he could and would not see you again after today.

He would also tell you that your security clearance had been denied and that, at least for now, you had to forget about him.

Whether you could do that or not, however, was something that you had already thought about for the past week or so, ever since Lesley Groves’ conversation with you and you came to the conclusion that you could not.

Not after the letters he had sent you, telling you how much he desired you and enjoyed your company, and not after the passionate night you shared.

Of course, love was not something you believed in even though Robert referred to it on two occasions now and love was not yet what you felt for him. But what you felt was something more than just some intellectual and physical attraction. It was desire in its purest and most primal form which had developed into an addiction of some sort and this addiction needed to be fuelled in order for you to function mentally and physically. You thus decided that you needed Robert in your life and this was going to be a challenge.

You were crazy for him and, clearly, he was crazy for you as well, going by what he had written to you and it were those letters which went through your mind just as Robert made his way to the lectern and began his lecture on naturally occurring atoms.

“Concentrate Y/N!” you then said to yourself as Robert had started reading for the lesson and just as he spoke so passionately about physics, you took your pencil and slowly ran it down your neck and then to your collarbone, subtly squirming like you enjoyed the feel, though your face was serious. There was something extremely sexy and desirable about this man talking about atoms and your mind again wandered to the night you shared.

You could feel his eyes on you, glancing at you, as he went through some chemical reactions and him talking like this sent goosebumps all over your skin. You enjoyed the feeling and brought the pencil back up, now running across the seam of your lips in purposeful absentmindedness until he lost his train of thought and paused before picking up on his speech again.

This is when you decided to tune it down. You did not want Robert to be thrown off guard and knew that, after class, you would finally be able to catch a moment with him after not having seen him for almost four weeks.

***

At 3 o’clock and after shaking off the two men, who had been following you, by sneaking out of the lavatory window, you made your way too Dr Lawrance’s office which, unsurprisingly, was unlocked that day.

Thus, you made your way inside without knocking which happened to startle Robert who had already been waiting for you.

“Jesus” he cursed, afraid that it was one of General Groves’ personnel who had followed him or even you to Lawrance’s office. He was clearly paranoid and concerned about meeting you there, but he knew that he had to see you regardless.

“Has someone followed you here?” he asked nonetheless and you shook your head while, finally, approaching him and, in a haste, pressing your lips onto his.

“I missed you” you moaned against his lips while Robert kissed you passionately, only ever allowing you to pull away in order to breathe, which is something that continued for at least five minutes until Robert took a step back.

“We need to talk” Robert then said after your lips drifted apart and you slowly looked up at him with wide open eyes and a parted mouth before, wordlessly, reaching beneath your skirt and taking off your panties.

“We do, but that has to wait!” you determined, causing Robert to gasp with suprise and shake his head.

“We can’t Y/N…” Robert began to say but, as soon as your lust filled eyes met his, his grip on your waist tightened and he stopped talking.

“I suppose we can…” Robert then corrected himself, stammering out the words and you could feel his gaze boring into you and, just as you felt as though your lust for this man couldn’t have been any greater, he pressed his lips onto yours again for another passionate kiss.

As you were kissing, you slid your hands up his thighs and reached for the zipper of his pants. You pulled it down, undid the button and belt and then his briefs-bound cock pushed out of the opening.

“On the desk” Robert simply groaned as, eventually, you reached into his briefs and grabbed him, pulling his erection free. The gurgling noise he made at that meant that he was absolutely focused on what you were doing to him, so you let yourself lift your eyes and take in his flushed face, staring at your hand like it was God's salvation for his mortal soul.

“Not yet” you teased before licking your lips and descending on him, causing Robert to swear.

“Fuck” he cursed as, without warning, you engulfed him completely.

The feel of his length in your mouth and the weight of it was almost as good as the punched-out moan he made as you worked your tongue up and down his shaft for a moment before taking him in all the way again until he bottomed out.

Then you pulled back and took him in again, building up to a brutal pace.

Robert was grunting with every thrust into your mouth. He could not hold back as you sucked and swirled your tongue around the head, making sure he would never forget this moment with you, especially if this was going to be the last time for you both.

“Stop. No more” Robert eventually groaned before pulling slightly against your hair and, just as he did, you removed your lips from his pulsing hard shaft and stood up.

“I need to taste you and I need to be inside of you. It has been weeks” he then told you while pulling you over towards the large cedar study desk which, clearly, belonged to Dr Lawrance.

“Then have me Robert” you told him as he stared at your body intently. “Fuck me like you own me” you then demanded and Robert took a handful of your hair and pulled your head back playfully so that you would stare up at him. Your eyes went wide for a moment as you let out a little gasp before returning to the lidded hungry stare you had before.

Robert then leaned forward and kissed you hard on the mouth and your mouth tasted sweet and your moans against his mouth were whorish and wanton. He drank from your mouth and all thoughts of his marriage and the project slipped far into the recess of his will as he lifted you up on to the desk.

He then kissed down further, along your long neck and just above the v-line of your blouse before he kneeled in front of you and you wrapped your fingers in his hair.

As he was caressing your clothed body, you popped open some of the buttons on your blouse, thus allowing Robert to push it down and thereby exposing your breasts. He cupped the right one with his hand, gently twisting the nipple between thumb and forefinger. It instantly grew hard to his touch.

Robert then spent a moment or two with his mouth on each breast. Tasting every inch of your flesh, before he slipped lower and the heady aroma of your open sex filled his nostrils so that he was possessed by a strong desire to taste you.

As he lowered himself further, he took hold of your legs behind each knee and spread them apart as he pushed your legs up and your skirt back so that it was curled up against your stomach. Robert then kissed your left thigh and looked up at you. Your cheeks were flush, mouth parted, eyes unfocused but intent.

"You must be quiet" he managed say and you faintly nodded before he lowered his mouth onto your sex. You tried your best to muffle your squeal, but as his tongue worked its way into you, more moans and cries escaped your lips.

You tasted as sweet as usual, and he devoured you. He worked his tongue as deep into you as he could before wiggling it back and forth up over the length of your slit, and then sucking gently on your engorged clit.

You bucked and squirmed in response to his ministrations, but Robert held you down as his mouth locked onto you. Your fingers wrapped into his hair and you grinded yourself against his tongue as best you could.

You began a long slow whine that slowly built in intensity, punctuated by quick movements of your hips as you pressed your mound against his mouth. It almost sounded as though you were crying, and for a moment his concentration broke, and he was tempted to stop, but your grip on the back of his head told him otherwise.

“Don’t you dare stop!” you moaned just before Robert flicked his tongue quickly over your clit and your body began to shudder. Your whine became a steady cry, followed by convulsions, and finally a great big gasp, as your body went slack.

"Oh god” you then panted before pushing his head away, unable to take anymore. Your hair was mussed and your makeup had smeared a bit.

“Yes, my love?” Robert teased before standing straight and, of course, you rolled your eyes at his joke just like you usually would.

“You are so sure of yourself, aren’t you?” you teased as Robert finally brought you to your feet.

“Yes” he answered with a grin before kissing you again to let you taste yourself on his lips.

“Now turn around and lean against my desk” Robert then demanded before he spun your small frame around and bent you over his colleague’s desk.

“That’s Dr Lawrance’s desk, not yours” you pointed out before Robert stood himself behind you. You were limp and behaving more like a rag doll than an active participant, but after eating you to orgasm, Robert knew that he had to have you. He had been aching for you for weeks.

“I suppose it is Lawrance’s desk, but I am sure he would not mind us using it” Robert then said which made you giggle.

“Very well then professor, I am all yours” you teased as Robert flipped your skirt onto your back and reached down between your legs, feeling that you were still slick and ready for him.

“You are indeed” Robert groaned before he lined himself up with your entrance without pushing into you just yet.

“Don’t tease” you demanded as you lowered your head to the desk and pushed back a little against his teasing cock.

“Please Robert” you then begged and, with that, he finally pressed into you slowly.

“I missed this a lot’ Robert groaned again as, finally, he took hold of your hips and pressed harder, to which you whimpered and moaned in pleasure.

“So did I” you gasped as he filled you.

"You are so very tight” he then told you as your channel gripped his length like a firm velvet fist. He could feel every inch inside you and, slowly, he began to rock his hips, small movements at first, then bigger ones, until he was fucking you in earnest.

You mewled as his member opened you and made your channel adjust to his size. He held your hips and pressed hard against you as you grunted with each thrust while, eventually, his cock was swelling.

"Oh god" you repeated as he fucked you in a steady rhythm until he briefly pulled out of you and turned you around.

“I missed having you inside me” you told Robert as you sat up on Lawrance’s desk again and spread your legs wide.

“I need you Y/N. I need you so fucking much” Robert said as he stepped in between your legs and re-entered you while you propped yourself up on your elbows and wrapped your long legs around his hips.

"I need you too, Robert. God, fuck me, make me yours” you moaned incoherently while your eyes were desperate and intently locked onto his. He leaned forward and kissed you in response, pressing his tongue into your mouth while you moaned against his lips, over and over again.

His own orgasm was building, but he did not want to stop just yet. Thus, his thrusts became more insistent and, with that, he drew you closer and closer towards climax as well.

“I am close” you said as if you were reading his mind while you leaned back and looked at Robert through lidded eyes.

“So am I” Robert told you as he felt your legs lock tighter around him and, just as you decided to hold on to for dear life, he pressed himself into you hard.

“Oh god, yes! That’s it” you almost screamed as, all so suddenly, you climaxed again. Your orgasm hit you like freight train and just as your walls began to convulse around his shaft, he exploded deep within you, filling you with his seed. He was thrusting hard with each spurt, and you wrapped your arms around him as it was his turn for his body to shake.

His orgasm was intense and, within seconds, his cum seeped from your channel and down his shaft, eliciting a final groan from Robert when he took a glimpse at where you were still connected.

“We really do need to talk” Robert then eventually said as he pulled out of you and felt the tension loosen inside of him as he momentarily closed his eyes and relaxed.

“Yes we do and now I can. I just needed to get this out of my system first before I could put together some logically thoughts” you said before reaching for Robert’s handkerchief and using it to clean yourself up.

“Do you mind if I keep that?” you then asked, causing Robert to chuckle.

“Not at all” he then said, pulling up his briefs and pants, before he leaned over and kissed your forehead. “Your security clearance…” he then began to say but you interrupted him.

“I know, General Groves came to interview me” you told Robert while adjusting your skirt. “He told me that you were instructed not see me again, but here you are, engaging in some intimate relations with me” you chuckled, still out of breath.

“General Groves should use his words more wisely as he did not say that I cannot see you again. He simply said that I must not engage or liaise with communists and, since you are not a communist, I do not see an issue with seeking you discreetly” Robert then pointed out while caressing your face.

“Discreetly, huh?” you chuckled before asking Robert what he thought was happening next.

“What do you mean?” he asked gently while looking into your eyes.

“With us, Robert. Where do we go from here” you wanted to know.

“Well, I will continue to try my luck and convince Groves to get you clearance for the project and, in the meantime, I will come here and visit you whenever I can” he explained.

“Robert, the General has already read your two letters to me. So, how do you expect to make contact without them noticing?” you asked, seeing that, no doubt, Robert was being watched.

“I will find a way my love. I promise” he promised you while cupping your face with both of his hands.

“Wouldn’t it be easier just to end it?” you argued, but Robert shook his head.

“I can’t do that” he told you.

“Why?” you queried, seeing that seeing you would be risky.

“Because I need you in my life Y/N” he then determined and a surprisingly warm and fluttering feeling crept up inside of you. It was a feeling that was unfamiliar to you and you could not describe it.

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bamsara · 9 months

Note

question regarding solar lunacy, more near future situations without spoiling too much.

regarding specific scenes, very heavily leaning on the cut scenes shown in the game. how would sun/moon be brought into these scenes with y/n?

sticking out to me, where moon has knocked freddy out cold, and dragging him into parts and service for interrogation.

will we be experiencing moons after math from some kind of "black out" after dragging freddy into the "protective cylinder" and y/n conducting the repair instead of greg?

or will we simply not be cool enough to share cannon events with freddy and greg?

additionally, moon is hunting greg through the game after very hour. will this be incorporated as well? (if able to answer without spoilers) how?

Oooh, some of this would require spoilers and/or some info that would need to be taken with light grain of salt as my current drafts aren't set in stone, and I'd be revising and changing things before the chapters release.

So I can't talk about the scene with Moon dragging Freddy away, or give you in-deph detail about the lights-off routine at the end of every hour and how that relates from game to fic (considering some things have changed in the fic compared to the game, like how Y/N inadvertently prevented Vanessa from being hired as a security guard, but that doesn't mean she's not in the pizzaplex still. Wink wink.) Somethings will be similar but not the same.

Most canon events will need to happen to some extent. I cannot tell you which ones or how true they will stay to the source material, but there will be destruction. As for the hunting procedure the animatronics have, this will still in place, but altered for the fic universe. I cannot talk about how this will work out without giving direct spoilers. But yes, Gregory (and the Reader) will be hunted by some animatronics.

For now, I put a lot of background details into SL that come back later, including: - The Daycare Attendant, (and Monty to an extent) have been working on their resistance to the virus for over a year now in fic timeline. The other animatronics, and staffbots, have not had this, even if their virus manifestations are able to be more hidden from the public (and the reader/narration.) - The reader (Y/N) is an employee and has shown to have the knowledge and clearance to work the breaker/manual power to turn On/Off the scheduled pizza plex's lights in the past before (see: chapter 6) as long as they can get to the controls to do so. - Thanks to Eclipse in chapter 13, there is currently a crack in the protective cylinder in Parts n Service.

There's others as well. There's foreshadowing of something in every chapter, even the early ones. I hope you're okay with me not spoiling stuff until then!

#solar lunacy #writings #writing stuff

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evanchantingpeters · 4 months

Text

T(h)rust in me, I’m not over you... (Fanfic - Alex from Adult World)

Pairings ─ Alex (from Adult World) x Y/N (fem reader)

Genre ─ Smut/fluff

Summary ─ Y/N and Alex (aka Evan Peters in Adult World) are exes who haven’t quite let go. A friend’s birthday party turns into a comedy of errors when a black-out drunk Y/N accidentally enters Alex’s postcode as her own for a cab ride home. As Alex finds her at his doorstep and takes her in his place, old feelings resurface and steamy times go down in his bathroom.

Warnings ─ Swearing, smut, unprotected sex p in v, drinking, oral (m receiving), rough sex, nipple teasing, hangover sex, doggy, pretty smutty guys you’re being warned :)

Word count ─ 3.7K

18+ > If you’re a minor, DO NOT read!

The birthday cake of your friend, Beatrice, stands proudly in the centre of her living room, decked out in colourful frosting and flickering candles.

You and the rest of the guests belt out the overdone ‘Happy Birthday’ song in what you think is perfect harmony. But here comes Jerry, Beatrice’s younger brother, who starts hollering the lyrics off-key, stealing the show.

Snorting, the birthday girl nudges her brother away, leaning over the cake to blow out the candles. Just as she’s mouthing her wish, Jerry, wearing a wicked grin, swoops in and dips his sister’s face right into the cake.

The room erupts in uproarious laughter as Beatrice’s expression goes from shocked to amused. She taps her cake-covered eyes to remove some chocolate. Then, she turns to Jerry with a look that’s half playful, half ‘I’m plotting revenge.’

“You’re in for it now, Jerry!” she barks. And just like that, an all-out frosting war breaks out, turning the room into a sugar-fuelled battlefield. Cake crumbs are flying in every direction, but you manage to dodge most of it with only a few cake-bulleted stains along the hem of your black dress.

You retreat to a corner of the room, sipping your Prosecco like you’re watching sitcom chaos unfold from afar. Suddenly, you notice a stranger in a fancy tux sauntering over, a sly grin playing on his plump lips.

“Well, looks like you’ve stayed mostly unscathed… or shall I say un-caked?” he chirps, his voice deep and throaty as he nods toward the cake war raging on.

You just shrug, tossing him a faint, uninterested smile, “Good reflexes, I guess,” you quip, giving him a quick once-over before turning back to the cake madness. You feel his dark green eyes scanning you as if you’re going through airport security.

He chuckles, and leans in. “If you need someone to scrub the marks off your dress, I’m your guy,” he whoops, playfully thumping his chest. He extends his hand with an inviting smile. “Tony.”

“Y/N,” you reply bluntly, your energy matching that of a deflated balloon.

Unfazed by your meh vibes, Tony decides to turn up the heat on the handshake, taking you aback as he begins to stroke your wrist. “You’re drop-dead gorgeous,” he purrs, his eyes never leaving yours.

In a bold move, he lightly kisses the back of your hand, his stubble scratching your skin.

You instinctively pull away, trying to force a polite smile, but a nervous twitch is all you manage. Your intrusive thoughts kick in, lecturing you (as usual), ‘Give the guy a chance, Y/N. Seriously, after Alex, all you think about is eye-gouging dudes with a spoon? Get a grip and move on!’

“Enjoying the party, Y/N?” he asks, snapping you out of your mental mess.

“It’s not too bad. I’m here for Beatrice,” you retort, fetching a glass of wine from the buffet. Your eyes drift to the birthday girl, now caked from head to toe and giggling hysterically. You can’t help but crack a smile.

“Sorry, gotta go. Trice’s calling me,” you blurt out and lunge toward your friend, catching a muffled, “No, she didn’t” from behind as you’re practically escaping.

As the night barrels on, your party spirit is like the Energizer Bunny on steroids. You’re all in, downing shots and cocktails like they’re on a liquid clearance sale.

Yet, the question looms in the air: Are you drinking for the sheer fun of it or just drowning sorrows in that cocktail shaker? Alex heartache mode on.

Before you know it, you’re totally sloshed, messily sprawled on a plush couch, using Tanya’s (another friend of yours) knees as your personal pillow. “Iiiiii reeeeally like your boooody, bodyyy, yeah. I reaaaaally wanna get naughtyyyyy I think you’re such a hottieeeee,” you croak out each word of the pop track with a slur, laughing uncontrollably. Your eyes are shut, lost in your boozy world.

As you ramble on, Tony, who’s been lurking around, seizes the moment and leaps out from behind the couch. He casually nudges Tanya’s arm, yelling, “You heard that, Tansy?” with theatrical flair. “She thinks I’m a hottie!” His grin spreads wider than a rubber band as he arrogantly points at himself, acting like he’s the main character of your drunken karaoke.

Tanya clicks her tongue in mild annoyance and cuts in with a hiss, “Tony! Behave, man!” She softly kisses the top of your head in a futile attempt to soothe your booze-induced storm.

“I offered to clean up her dress…” Tony goes on, hovering over the couch. “But, not gonna lie, I’d rather have it crunched up on my bedroom floor as she moans my name,” he murmurs, emphatically banging his fist on the couch before doubling up with laughter.

“Oh, hush it, Tony,” Tanya roars and waves him away, turning back to you and your delirium, which has hit the roof. “I need to get you home, girl, and none of us is fit to drive…”

Tony, not one to give up easily, chimes in once more. “I volunteer! I’d give her a lift all day, all night.”

“No, we’re all catching a cab,” she declares with a tone that brooks no argument. She lightly pokes your shoulder. “Y/N, my love?”

Your tipsy babbling starts to fade into a murmur that seems to be lulling you to sleep. “Y/N,” Tanya repeats. “What’s your postcode, sweetie?”

Your alcohol-soaked brain struggles to register this simple question. “P-postcode? P-o-s-t-d, no. P-p,” you stutter.

“Yes, darling. Confirm your postcode for me, would you? I don’t have it saved,” Tanya says calmly, holding her phone in front of your face.

With a grunt, you manage to sit up, but the world continues to dance spinning salsa around you. With an unsteady hand, you reach for the device, and your fingers fumble as you try to type out the letters and digits.

Deep in your drunken haze, you unconsciously punch in a code that matches anything else but your address.

“To the hottieeeeee,” you shout, throwing your fist in the air before dropping yourself back onto your friend’s knees.

“Ma,am, we’re here,” the taxi driver announces to Tanya that’s sat next to him, his hoarse voice slicing through the quiet of the car.

Tanya swivels around to face the backseats, where you’re laid down, totally passed out. “Y/N,” she calls softly, giving your leg a gentle rub, but you don’t stir.

She hops off the car and speed-walks to your side. With great care, she helps you out by wrapping her hands around you. Your arm is looped around her shoulder for stability. “Biyatchhhh, I saiddd whooo I saeee… who da biyaatch? Am da biyatchh,” you hoot, swaying and leaning heavily on your friend as you pinch her cheek with a goofy smile.

“Y/N, just a sec,” Tanya huffs out as she shoves herself back in to retrieve your purse and coat from the car floor.

You both stumble your way through the labyrinthine apartment complex. “You got your house key?” she asks, catching her breath.

It takes a hot minute for the information to hit as you stare at your friend like a deer in headlights. With an unexpected burst of energy, you break free from Tanya’s hold, almost tripping a few steps away. “My Tanoushka, I'm sho happy you haar!” You cry out and lurch back toward her, showering her with enthusiastic smooches on her cheeks.

Then, in a theatrical whirl, you pop open the purse and jangle your keys in her face. “Jiggly, jiggly. Okiee, goooo, go, go!” you cheer in a wobbly dance, urging Tanya to get back into the car.

With an anxious look on her face, Tanya stands by the open car door. “Alright, phone me once you’re indoors,” she insists, her worried eyes laser-focused on you.

You shoo her away absentmindedly as you stagger toward the complex’s main door. You wrestle with the key, wriggling and twisting it into the lock, but miserably fail to get in the building. “Bad key,” you playfully scold, wagging a finger at the stubborn piece of metal before giving it a light slap.

Soon after, your fingers impulsively begin to clumsily hit the buttons on the intercom, creating a cacophony of buzzing sounds that echo through the entryway. “O-o-o-pen uuup,” your slurred shouting rings through the intercom. “Shtupidd thaang,” you whine, practically bashing the device.

Out of the chorus of tenant voices that crackle through the speaker almost simultaneously, Alex’s familiar voice stands out.

“Y/N? Y/N is that you?” Hearing the shaky and uncertain voice, Alex doesn’t waste a second. He dashes down the stairwell and swings the entrance door wide open, facing a dishevelled Mia, rocking around about to collapse.

“Y/N,” he gasps and sprints to you. “What happened? Why are you here?” His brows furrow in confusion as he observes your smudged makeup and dress that’s askew.

You look up at him with a lopsided smile, your eyes all bloodshot and half-lidded. “Alex, my hottieee. I mishhhsed you so muschh!” you exclaim, your sentences meandering as you lounge at him for a sloppy hug.

“Shit, you’re hammered,” he mutters, worry spurs him into action. With superhero speed, he scoops you up, your butt facing upwards, hands hanging loosely off his back.

Your giggles echo as Alex carries you onto his shoulder with ease, making his way to the lift that leads to his place. In a soft, reassuring whisper, he says, “Don’t worry, baby,” and plants a kiss on your thigh that’s now resting on his chest. “I’ll take care of you,” he adds, giving you a playful spank on the ass.

Once inside, Alex makes a pitstop in the kitchen for a water bottle while you dangle off his shoulder like a ragdoll, humming nonsense. He heads to the bedroom and gently lays you on the bed, making sure your landing is as comfy as a cloud.

Kneeling beside you, he begins to delicately take off your high heels, rubbing your legs along the way. “Who needs a napkin when your dress can double as a tissue, right?” he chuckles softly, tracing the dry cake marks on your outfit, unaware of the sugary fight earlier. “You’ve officially introduced ‘cake couture’ to the fashion world,” he teases, trying to bundle you in a blanket like a burrito.

You slowly lift your head from the pillow, your neck muscles tightening with the effort as you stare at him with bleary yet intent eyes. “I want shyour cakey,” you mewl, wriggling under the blanket on a mission to liberate your hands.

You tug on his hoodie, pulling him closer until he loses his balance and topples onto you. Your bodies press together, and your voice comes out in a pleading whine. “Alex?”

“Yes?” he rasps out, his dark brown eyes flicking down to your lips and then up into your eyes.

“Kiss me,” you mumble and perk up, slowly grazing your lips against his, eyes shut.

The strong scent of alcohol wafts from you, but, in that moment, Alex seems beyond minding. His heart races too erratically to care, and his breaths are too jagged and wild to bother. The room seems to shrink for both of you, and he swallows hard.

“No, Y/N,” he snaps, his voice firm and resolute as he jumps up. “I’d never let this happen... not right now... not with you being like this.” He snatches the water bottle from the bedside table, unscrewing it with a sense of urgency.

Slightly dazed, you touch your lips. “Tickles, tickles, ticklish,” you squeak, breaking into soft giggles. In a sudden and wobbly move, you shift position, popping up on your knees on the bed. “Huggies,” you whoop facing him, arms wide open for an embrace.

But, just as quickly, your mood takes a detour, and now you’re wincing, yanking at the fabric of your outfit in frustration, “This dresshh is prison, tightiee,” you grunt, hiking your dress up only to reveal your red panties.

His eyes can’t help but stare down there as he rubs the back of his neck almost compulsively, his breath hitching in his throat. At the sight of you half-naked, the dilemma of whether to give in or resist intensifies, swirling in his mind on end.

“Hold up, I don’t want you catching a cold or something. I’ve got a top you can slip into,” he says, puffing out his words while pacing toward his wardrobe to avoid looking at her.

“Heeey,” you yell with an unexpectedly stern tone that catches him off guard. But, just as swiftly, your face softens into a sweet, almost kiddish smile that instantly cools things off.

You wave Alex over, beckoning him to approach. “Come, come, comeyyy,” you coo.

You perch next to him again, still rocking that mischievous smile. “It’s a secret, tiny winnie one,” you whisper-shout, pinching your index finger and thumb near your face, closing one eye for added drama. “Just between you and me,” you poke as you emphasise ‘me.’

Alex nods as his grin stretches from ear to ear. “Okay…” he chuckles, officially joining your light-hearted moment.

“Shhhhh,” you dramatically hush, squishing your index finger against your lips like you’re sharing classified intel. “Secret-t-t-t.”

Alex snorts. His rolls his lips into his mouth as he lowers his head to hold back a laugh. “My bad, my bad. Go on,” he whispers with exaggerated enthusiasm. He’s clearly having a blast with your goofy antics.

“Don’t tell Alex… Neva eva!”

“I won’t, I won’t,” he assures you, theatrically raising his finger for a pinky promise.

You take an unusually long moment to process his gesture and what it represents. A sober person would never… Eventually, you sloth-slowly glance back at him, nonchalantly deciding to give up on the symbolism behind the lifted pinky finger. “He’s the kindestsht… and p-p-prettiest boy I’ve eeeeever met,” you exclaim. Your fingers—guided by intoxicated conviction—clumsily roam over his face, stretching his nostril and trailing down to his bottom lip.

Your drunken self radiates an innocent sincerity that makes Alex’s heart throb like a hammer. Flattered and charmed by your confession, he gazes at you bashfully.

His warm smile broadens as he keeps on staring and admiring you.

“He’s shhhuper,” you squeal, forming a heart shape with your fingers, peeking at him through it. “Do youse… hic… I should gimme… no… not me… him, give HIM head to say thank yew for treatin' spoooooon good?”

Alex can’t help but crack up, though his cheeks turn rosy—a testament to his shy nature. He cups his chin and narrows his eyes mischievously, like he’s in deep thought. “Hmm, if we’re talking about Alex, your ex...I think you should give him head, BUT,” he exclaims, throwing a finger into the air.

You gasp, playfully covering your mouth like you’ve heard the most shocking news. Your eyes bulge with feigned surprise. “Beyond all,” he argues, “I think you should totally get back together. He thinks you broke up for something very silly, and he’s dying to be with you.”

You abruptly jerk away from him, gagging as if you’re about to throw up. You feel the blood draining from your face as a wave of distress washes over you.

Alex’s eyes widen with concern as he instinctively rises from the bed, “Off we go to the bathroom,” he insists, rushing to follow you.

Your nausea takes a sudden turn, and you can’t hold back any longer. Barely making it to the toilet in time, you let it all out. Your body heaves with each retch, and you feel miserable.

Alex, the unsung hero, drops to his knees and chucks the water bottle on the floor. He gently pulls your hair back, creating a makeshift puke-proof barrier. All the while, he rubs your back to make the whole ordeal less horrible.

Then, he’s quick on his feet, grabbing some toilet paper for the post-barf clean-up. As you dab your lips, he hands you the bottle to rinse. “I’m disgustiiing, don’t look,” you grumble, shooing him away as you spit water in the toilet before flushing.

“You’re still a wonder to my eyes,” he whispers, running a hand through your loose hair. “And the timing—you puke just as I suggest we get back together, Y/N” he mocks, adding a sprinkle of humour to the less-than-glamorous moment.

You groan and let your head flop onto the toilet seat. “Ahhh, my moussth feels weird… bruushh,” you mumble, rubbing your lips.

Alex lifts you up, guiding you to sit on the edge of the bathtub. “Not brushing yet, baby. We’re swishing with some hydrogen peroxide and water to protect the enamel,” he instructs you, preparing the said concoction in a small measuring cup next to you. “Here you go, wash off.”

“Shhh, you’re a niiieeerd,” you whine after spitting the liquid, feeling it sting your tongue. Giggling, you yank at Alex’s hoodie and playfully sway him back and forth, your minty breath fanning his face.

Then, you suddenly stop and fix him right in the eye. “Aleeex?” you whimper, lips pouting.

“Yes, Y/N,” he asks calmly, sweeping a few strands of hair off your face as a half smirk curls up his lips. He enjoys the banter that weaves through your drunken fog.

“Fuck me,” you plead, fiddling with the buckle of his belt.

Alex’s pulse quickened for a second, held in an irregular rhythm. All the while, your fingertips caress his lower stomach, trying to slip through his trousers and onto his boxers.

You let go when he clears his throat loudly, a deliberate attempt to regain composure. Breathing heavily, he manages a tight-lipped as he strokes your head, tenderly placing it on his shoulder.

“Ohhh, I knoooow,” your exclaim and sit up, your index finger playfully pressing against your mouth. “I willshh brush me an’ you fuck me.”

Forty minutes later, you’re done with her hardcore toothbrushing session, complete with a few rounds of gargling mouthwash. Alex hands you a towel with a warm smile. You’re still wobbly but muster a grateful grin.

“Thaaank, yew rock,” you slur, clumsily patting your face dry.

Alex chuckles, “Better?”

You hum, nodding, but your bleary eyes suddenly light up mischievously. Out of impulse, you slide into the tub, turning the water knob. You start splashing around, water welling up everywhere as you laugh uncontrollably. Alex, caught in the aquatic crossfire, shields himself with his hands.

“What’s the goal? Turning this into a water park?” he jokes, still trying to dodge the watery onslaught. But you’re having none of it. You grip his arm and drag him into the splash party.

Soon, you’re both a wet, tangled mess, laughing like loons, lost in the bliss of the moment. As water skims through the contours of your bodies, there’s a switch in the atmosphere. Amidst the fun chaos, your eyes meet inches away from each other, and the laughter mellows into a shared silence.

Before you realise it, your lips crash in a spontaneous kiss. You spread your legs, letting him wade through and tower over you. Soft moans escape him, and the vibrations against your mouth send delightful shivers down your backbone. You know that’s not just a collision of flesh; it transcends into a harmonious blend of passion and connection.

“I want you, Alex,” you sigh with newfound clarity, miraculously not stumbling over your words in an intoxicating joy for the first time tonight. You push the back of his head to deepen the kiss, your tongues now twisting and twirling in a sensual waltz.

He hungrily gropes handfuls of your body, leaving open-mouthed kisses across the crook of your neck.

“Y/N.. no... stop it,” he protests when your hand ventures down his trousers, rubbing along his growing bulge. Your quivering breaths mingle as he breaks the kiss. Skillfully, he turns off the water as he steps out of the tub. “It’s the alcohol talking now, not you.”

You frown, clutching on the edges of the tub for balance. “The alcohol has shut up; I speak now,” you groan as you stand on your feet. Your drenched dress clings to your body, outlining your figure. Feeling the weight of the soaked fabric, you decide to free yourself from it.

You strip down to your panties, and your soft, pink nipples rise like rosebuds in bloom, betraying a quiet anticipation. Alex sucks in a sharp breath as he watches your every move all mesmerised, eyes widening, lips parted.

“Ever seen someone redefine the art of walking a tightrope?” you chirp, water dripping down your half-naked body. Sinking to your knees, you get on all fours and slowly begin to crawl to him.

You sway your hips in a sensuous, almost hypnotic rhythm, eyes fixed on Alex. All the while, you trace a perfectly straight line to him, proving your recovered sobriety.

Arriving at his pelvic level, you gracefully sit back on your heels with a coy smile, maintaining eye contact. “See?” you whisper, tilting your head as your eyes travel down at his erection. You don’t dare to touch; you just marvel at his full length (realistically speaking).

Staring down at you with a knowing, crooked smirk, he runs his fingers through your damp hair, tenderly petting your head.

“Someone’s suffering here. Let’s free this big boy, shall we?” you purr, brushing your fingers along his hard rock crotch, feeling it twitch upon touch.

He quickly nods in despair as if he’s unable to utter a single syllable. You slowly roll down his trousers and boxers. He gasps as you finally take hold of his large shaft.

You push his tip in your mouth, flattening your tongue, and swipe down the underside ridge of his stiff dick, humming in delight. He groans louder than you expected as you slowly work his cock in and out, grazing your fingers over the ridges of his abs under his t-shirt.

You pull him back out of your mouth just to slide all the way back down. He’s practically growling at this point, clasping onto the corners of the sink—his vein-y arms make your sex twice as moist.

You regain your slow, teasing pace just to gauge his reaction. Letting out a whine like he can’t take it anymore, he grips your hair tighter, pushing you all the way down his dick. His head is now building on pressure as it strikes the back of your throat, bringing tears to your eyes. His hair grip loosens as his breaths start escaping him in choked, punchy gasps.

You’re sucking him whole, from his taint down to his balls, dripping your saliva all over him the harder you draw him into your mouth. Your swollen pussy is tingling for him as you feel him hardening in your mouth, forcing loud moans out of you.

Knowing that your next move will finish him, you slow down again and grab him by the waist, gazing up at him. That’s when you begin to take him in faster and rougher, feeling his hips thrust harder each time.

And… proven! With the change in speed, he lets out a series of choppy moans only to shoot his hot cum in your mouth right after. He stares down at you breathless, mouth agape, as you gulp down his sweet taste with rapid, eager swallows, savouring his taste with a giggle.

“My girl,” he rasps out as he picks you up from the floor effortlessly yet almost in a trance, his dick still throbbing in your hands. He peels his t-shirt off, turning you around so you both face the large bathroom mirror.

Positioned behind you, he holds you close and smacks your ass hard, making you squeal with surprise. The squeal soon turns into a moan as the pain fades into pleasure.

You smile slyly as you observe his muscular hands travelling from your hips all the way up to your waistline and tits. You gasp softly when you feel his erection on your back as his mouth nibbles the flushed skin of your neck, leaving soft love bites in his wake.

“I want you to cum inside me, Alex” you blurt out and take hold of his shaft from behind, slowly sliding the head though your tight moist slit in short thrusts.

“Oh, yeah,” he grunts, biting his bottom lip as he feels your wet lips wrap around him. He instantly fills his hands with your hard nipples, squeezing and rubbing them as he looks at your reflection. “Anything for you, Y/N,” he mutters against your ear in a low, husky voice before knocking himself deep inside you, balls deep, making you scream. His hands roughly grip your thighs to keep you steady and close to him.

Small sobs leave you as you instinctively grab the ends of the sink, bending over to cope with taking him deeper. “Just there,” you yelp, panting, as he starts pounding harder, your hair twisted around his hand. With each thrust, his sack slaps against your clit, making you lose your shit.

Every time your pussy gets to the base of his cock, you pump into him with an intense tempo and move your hips around, making his cock swirl inside your body.

“Fuck, that feels so good,” you cry out with shallow, jagged puffs, rising and resting your head on his shoulder.

He pinches your nipples between his knuckles with one hand while with the other, he starts massaging your clit with circular motions.

“I’m gonna cum,” you whimper in pure ecstasy as a hot flush courses through you, your cunt aching and begging to release.

“You take in me so well, baby. Give it to me,” he groans, his voice a throaty sensual rasp that makes you shudder.

“Yeees,” you scream, writhing and grinding against him until you feel warm liquid dripping down your legs.

He keeps riding your orgasm out with you, fucking the liquids in back until he hits his own high. And then it happens—his cum gushing inside you, stuffing you up.

Out of breath, Alex pulls himself out of you, watching his cum leak out. He lazily grins at you, his curls sticking to his head, and you tuck them all back with trembling hands, giggling.

“This pussy and her owner over here will be the death of me,” he chuckles, gasping for air as he pulls you in for a sloppy, heated kiss.

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