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laiiaaa · 1 year ago

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SARDINES — CARMEN BERZATTO

summary Carmen seems a little off when you visit him, and you try to figure out why. For once, you pry him open.

length 3.2k

contents angst, hurt/comfort, he's really an angel even if he's closed off n stubborn, very very emotional, lots of negative self-talk from Carm, he cares so so much, relationship talk, everything resolves in the end dw <3

It takes more than a few knocks for Carmen to open the door. If you counted correctly, it took six tries, plus a phone call. So you shouldn’t be surprised that when he finally does open the door, he barely gives you a kiss on the cheek and mumbles Hey before turning his back to you again, back in the kitchen with his phone face up on the counter. He’s antsy, almost talking to himself, checking his phone every five seconds.

You walk in and lock the door behind you as you take off your shoes, and you drop your bag on the coffee table, which houses little else other than a remote and a day-old mug with coffee staining a ring in the bottom. “…Everything okay?”

He leans into the counter with his weight on his hands and spares you a glance and a haphazard nod. “Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine—just waitin’ for my guy to call back.”

“Isn’t it a little late for that?” Sitting down on the couch, part of you expects him to join you without being asked. Your back and feet ache, and all you want is for Carmen to lay with you, ease his hands up and down your spine, and watch the first thirty minutes of a random film before falling asleep.

“No, no—he usually answers when I need ‘im.” But he’s working. He’s at home, and you’re waiting on him, but he’s working. He seems to be prioritizing that a lot lately—a lot more than usual, at least. Running a hand through his hair, he watches the screen again, and mutters to himself, “Thirty fuckin’ minutes. Fuck you.”

You peek over the back of the couch. “Are you sure everything’s okay? You sound upset.”

“Yeah, baby, I’m—fuck this—” He derails from answering and instead picks up the phone again, calling and letting the dial tone ring out the second time this hour. He waits with his hand on his hip and his lip tugged between teeth.

You know ‘his guy’ doesn’t pick up when he drops his phone on the counter again with a sigh and another muffled profanity. “Carm?”

His head rests between his hands, but he lifts it to look at you. “Yeah?”

“Can you come sit with me, please?”

God, how you tug on his heart strings when you ask, your voice all sweet and dripping honey, you make it impossible to resist. “‘F course, yeah,” he answers, pocketing his phone and turning off the kitchen light before joining you.

He loops an arm over your shoulder as he presses his lips to your temple, and his heart skips a beat or two when you snuggle into him with your hand splayed against his chest. The two of you stare off at nothing in particular, soaking in the touch of the other. You smell so distinctly like you—like home—he’d be getting lightheaded in the best way if he weren’t so…so caught up in everything you help him escape: work, the fringe family, being so dead tired that in his mind he can’t tell where his kitchen ends and the fire begins. But that phone call he’s waiting on. It’s poking needles in the nape of his neck.

You sit up after a couple minutes, keeping a hand planted over his heart when you look at him. “I can literally feel how anxious you are.” He scoffs, but before he can protest you add, “Seriously, Carm, is everything okay?”

“Yeah, it’s—everything’s just…” He looks off into nowhere behind you, his free hand making circles in the air like the words will fall into his palm if he tries hard enough. He stumbles for a few moments until he looks you in the eye again, a bit pained when he tells you, “Everything’s fine, baby.” The arm that was hooked over your shoulder is now curled around your waist, and his fingers, rough and scarred, trace meaningless shapes into your back, teasing beneath the hem of your top. “You don’t have to worry ‘bout it, alright?”

You’re unconvinced. You shuffle your hips around to straddle his, placing your hands on his shoulders with your thumbs carefully massaging the sides of his neck. Like clockwork, his hands take purchase of your waist, and he brings one to slide down over the curve of your ass before smoothing circles into your thigh. He always seems to speak to you in this way—maybe about as much as he tells you he loves you through his food—the physical connection much easier to manage than trying to crack open the rock-hard shell in his chest.

You lean into him a little more, your back arching ever so slightly. “You know I want you to keep me in the loop. What’s the guy for now?”

He sighs. “It’s just—shit with the stoves ‘n it’s messin everyone up, the kitchen’s basically a fire hazard, ‘n I really need him to answer his damn phone before something…” He shrugs. “…Before something just, I dunno, blows up, I guess.”

“Well, nobody’s even in that kitchen right now, so no explosions just yet.” You eye him for a moment, biting at your lip in contemplation when he doesn’t smile quite like he usually does at your drier jokes. “Is there something else bothering you?”

His brows furrow. “No, no—why, why’re you askin’ it like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like, like…” He shakes his head as if it pains him to consider it. “Like there’s somethin’ wrong with me, or, or somethin’ I’m hidin’—”

“I didn’t mean it like that, Carm, c’mon.” Your voice goes softer, hands a little gentler as you cradle his jaw in your palms. “I just want you to let me in.”

He takes a deep breath through his nose. “You’re always sayin’ stuff like that,” he mumbles, and you can feel the vibration of his voice through your hands through to your heart.

“Because I mean it.” The AC whirrs nearby, almost muffling your words. “I want you to tell me about the things that bother you. I would never judge you.”

You’re so tender with Carmen, he thinks he could melt into a puddle on the floor, left to seep into the floorboards and through the ceiling of his downstairs neighbor. And he feels the words bubbling to the surface, the emotion pooling, red-hot behind his eyes, an answer burning at the back of his throat and clawing through his chest rough enough that the kisses you scatter from his cheek, to his jaw, to his neck do little to aid his wounds. But when he answers you, it’s tame. “I do tell you about things.”

“You do, but…” You wrap your arms around his neck and nuzzle into the space between it and his shoulder. “I’m just thinking about this game I used to play when I was a kid, sardines.”

His head tilts back against the back of the couch, and your breath dances along his skin while his hands smooth along the bumps of your spine. “Sardines?”

“Mhm,” you hum, “It’s kinda like…hide and go seek, but reversed. One of us would hide, and when someone found us, they’d squeeze into that spot too. And I remember being terrible at it, because we’d be making faces at one another in our little hiding spot, and I could never stop giggling, and I’d just expose everyone too soon.”

He chuckles quietly to himself. “I can picture that, you laughin’ while shoved in a closet.” His fingertips trace your shoulder blades.

“Pretty much how it went. Always too loud.”

“But I like hearing you laugh. I—I always feel better…gettin’ to see you all happy.” He’s thinking he got a little too caught up in the moment, and before you can say anything back, he asks, “What were you thinkin’ about the game, then?”

“It’s a little stupid to say it out loud,” you start.

“‘S not stupid, promise.”

You pause, hesitant. “…Okay.” One quick kiss to his neck before you continue, eyes closed to sink into him, “I just like to think that, eventually, you’ll let me in like…like it’s a game of sardines, or something. That I’ll just…squeeze in right beside you, and—and you’ll let me be there for you without pushing me away.”

He hums, low and drawn out to give you a beat to breathe.

“Sometimes I just want you to tell me what it is that’s bothering you, just to…make it easier on you a little bit, knowing someone’s in your corner. Just to be there.” Your fingers twirl into his messy curls and scratch at the nape of his neck the way he likes, and his silence drags on long enough to make you anxious.

But Carmen, too, is anxious. His chest is tight, his hands fidgety, and he’s sure—he knows, he feels it in his gut—that he needs to say something, anything. But he can’t find the words. They swirl in the back of his mind, and he can taste them crawling to the tip of his tongue, but they never become clear. They lurk where he can’t see them, and he keeps his thoughts on lockdown for you, because he’s been convinced along the way somehow in his decades of living that it’s easier, for him, if he keeps the softer parts stowed away, never to be seen again. He’s starting to think you’re trouble, that you make him softer where he grew to be tough. So it’s muffled and covered by his palms smoothing up your waist when he asks, “Sit up for me a bit, baby?”

And you listen, of course, because really you’re thankful he didn’t kick you out by now. Your vision is blurry from tears pooling in your eyes, but his hands—so, so gentle, the touch barely there like he thinks you could break—cup your jaw and urge you a little closer, his thumbs stroking your cheeks and wiping away stray tears. The two of you gravitate closer until your noses brush by one another and you exchange breath, until he leans into you and slots his lips against yours. He’s hesitant and careful, he doesn’t know if it’s quite the right thing to do or if it’s says what he needs it to, but when you prop your hands against his chest and kiss him back he knows part of you needs it like he does.

Both of you need it—that silent exchange, emotions spilled between sweet kisses and kind hands. So you stay that way, with Carmen’s hands holding you close to keep you from running away, and yours answer back I’m here, until he pulls away, eyes closed, to rest his forehead against yours.

He keeps himself blind when he whispers, “I know…” You can tell he’s mulling over his thought, so you wait for him to add, “I—I know, that you’re in my corner. An’ I want you there, alright?”

You try to soak in the feeling, so close and seemingly getting closer, a little breathless from his kisses as much as his words. “Alright.”

“I just—I just get so, so stuck in my head that I…” He swallows. “I can’t tell half the time if there’s anything even worth sayin’, I’m just spaced out ‘n…going fuckin’ crazy.” His brows furrow against yours. “I’m not used to stuff like this.”

“I know.”

His hands rest along the curve of your face a little firmer when he suggests, “But I can try—to, to, uh, tell you things, to let you in, or, or however you put it—I—” A deep breath. “I’m so fuckin’ bad at this, I’ve never done this, but—but I’ll try, for you, alright? You tell me, an’ I’ll try for you.”

You nod against him.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “I just—it’s just—I like this, y’know? Being with you, I like what we have, I—I like doing this, and—I wanna…I wanna make you happy. The same way you do for me…” He goes quiet and shakes his head a little, anticipating his next words. “I don’t wanna fuck it up.”

You can’t fight the smile that pulls at your lips, even if it is bittersweet. “You aren’t gonna fuck it up, okay? Being with you already makes me happy. I know you’re trying.”

“But trying isn’t…it’s not always enough, an’ I know in some ways—in a lotta ways, probably, I’m not…I—I’m not the best at saying things, an’—shit, am I—am I saying too much—?”

“No, Carm, no. I want you to keep talking.” You take his lips in another gentle kiss, your stomach whirring warm and content.

“I don’t really know what to say, or—”

“It’s okay,” you coo. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but…if there was something else bothering you earlier…you can tell me.” You pull back a little to really look at him, running your fingers through his curls and making him gently close his eyes. “And I’ll just say okay, and then we can move on. I won’t say anything unless you want me to.”

He hums with his eyes still closed, his mouth in a smirk. “Mm, like sardines.” It’s a little snarky when he says it, but when his thumbs brush beneath your top, you know he’s just thinking over his options.

“Yes, like sardines.” You’re a little embarrassed, but also a little thankful that he followed the bit.

He waits for a few moments, just breathing, letting you smooth your hands through his hair and over his shoulders and down his chest. It’s calming, he realizes—simply existing in the same space, careful touches and brief kisses. He runs his palms from the back of your waistband to the plane between your shoulder blades and presses gently, urging you to lean against him once again. When your head rests against his chest, he takes in a deep breath through the nose and out the mouth. He watches the ceiling.

“There’s…” Another pause. “It’s not just the stove that’s botherin’ me.”

You don’t answer him, not even a hum to acknowledge he’s said anything, and he realizes that you were serious about the whole ‘not saying anything’ bit.

“I…fuck, I don’t even know how to say any ‘f this. I think…I think I’m just freakin’ out about…about everything. The restaurant…you…” There’s a long, heavy pause, a shaky breath. “An’—an’ that’s it, really, besides family I guess—which is really fuckin’ pathetic when I say it out loud.” A sniffle. “Real pathetic. But all I’ve had is fuckin’…fuckin’ cooking, an’ working, an’ dealin’ with my family ‘n fuckin’ Richie all my life—” His chest gets, tight, a hand leaves your back to run over his mouth. “God, an’ I am so fucked up,” he laughs.

You were already crying before, and the tears keep coming, streaming from your eyes to your cheeks and staining Carmen’s shirt. You’re not sure whether he even realizes.

“I’m fucked up, and you’re just—you’re so perfect, compared t’me, ‘cause you’re all smart, an’ you always know the right thing to say ‘n how to say it, an’ you’re just in a completely different world sometimes, an’ I want in—I wanna be able to do things for you, all of it, but—” He needs to catch his breath. He needs water. He needs sleep. His throat is sore and scratchy, he feels his pulse pounding in his forehead. “I’m just…scared…that—that I could fuck you up, too.”

His chest expands beneath you, and you’re shaking, biting at your lips to stifle sobs. Part of you wants to sit up and hold him close, tell him that he’s the perfect one and you’re anything but, that all he’s ever been is made for you, that maybe he is fucked up, but you don’t care because you love him all the same—you love him.

Carmen isn’t used to this reaction. He’s used to explosions, yelling, screaming, pointing fingers with hot tears, saying what he shouldn’t, saying what hurts, guilt smacking him across the face for years to come. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. He feels your trembling and holds you that much gentler.

“Baby,” he starts, “Hey, lemme see you, you’re shaking—” He tries to peel you from his torso, prodding at your sides until you wipe at your eyes and sit yourself up. His hands reach to hold your wet face. “What—what’s wrong?”

You push his arms away. “Sardines, Carm.” You try to stay true to your word—that you’d take what he says, and only store it away—but you’d be lying if you said you’re not struggling to keep more tears at bay.

“I want you to talk to me. You said you’d talk if I wanted you to, I—I need you to talk to me, c’mon, please—”

“This is so wrong—I’m the one who should be comforting you—”

“Hey, hey hey hey—” He smooths a hand over your hair and presses kisses to the tear stains on your cheeks. “That doesn’t matter to me. That doesn’t matter to me, alright?” He holds you steady, waits for you to meet his eyes, and when you look at him, it’s like he can see right through you. His thumbs brush away your tears, and your breathing settles.

You sigh, your hands moving from his chest to his shoulders. “We’re such a mess.”

Carmen shakes his head, mind full of you as his eyes trail the contours of your face, the plush of your lips when your teeth bite at them. “Wouldn’t wanna be with anyone else.” His hands touch your waist again and ease you into him, buzzing with your soft curves in his grasp. It’s more than therapeutic, he thinks. Life-sustaining might be more accurate.

You nod, and your fingertips graze along his cheekbones before you plant a soft, yearning kiss to his mouth.

He kisses you again because he can’t help himself, and he might be too scared to look you in the eye when he says it, but eyes closed or not, he means it. “You’re so good to me.” His arms wrap around you again, addicted to feeling your weight beneath his skin, and he presses his lips to your jaw. “So fuckin’ good to me,” he repeats, lower than a whisper like it slipped by without thinking.

You card your hands through his hair, messily beautiful, and answer, “You deserve someone good,” just as quiet as he is.

He swears his heart stops, and his lips trail from your jaw down to your neck. “You’re too good to me,” he says again, with a bit more honesty in the change. He knows you, so he already knows what you’re going to say, and that any other time he’d deny it.

You hum, a warm smile curling the corners of your mouth as you pull him closer to your chest, grazing your lips by his hairline for a gentle kiss. “No such thing.”

And for the first time, with his arms wrapped tight around your waist with a gentleness reserved only for you, and with your body slotted against his, he really starts to believe it.

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grandline-fics · 1 year ago

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Green Eyes, Red Lips

DESCRIPTION: When jealousy leads to a confession

WARNINGS: swearing, some suggestive themes(maybe?)

CHARACTERS: Zoro

WORDS: 1,386

A/N: I really liked how this came out so I might do this as a series with other characters. Feel free to request any you’d like to see.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

“Shit, Marines!” Usopp hissed with worry. Zoro lazily slid his good eye open to spy the two uniformed men walking down the street. It wouldn’t take long for their presence to be known and that would mean a fight. His hand dropped to rest over the hilts of his swords in preparation but frowned when his crew-mate’s hand griped his shoulder tightly. “We promised Nami! No attention, we’re only here for supplies, not fights.” The sniper reminded him sharply. Zoro clicked his tongue in annoyance and kept his eye on the marines as they stopped to briefly talk to one of the locals. It seemed they were just on a routine patrol, that was good. If they weren’t actively looking for them it gave them more time.

You poked your head out from the doorway and followed Usopp and Zoro’s stares. Your mood soured to see the Marines, you and Nami were hoping to actually enjoy a relaxed shopping day on this island before having to set off. Oh well, at least the others were almost done. A movement caught your eye and you scowled to see Zoro’s fingers twitching against his swords. He was hoping the Marine’s noticed them and from the burning glare he was sending their way it was clear he wanted a fight and damn the promise he’d made when he left the Sunny that afternoon. Roughly you slapped his forearm, knowing it wouldn’t actually hurt him but it was enough to make him turn his attention to you.

“Don’t you even think bout it! You’ve been itching for a fight since we left the last island. If you can’t control yourself go back to the Sunny.” Zoro’s behaviour had been pissing you off lately. Normally you didn’t mind his colder attitude if you knew what was wrong but this time there had been no warning. Up until the night before you left the last island things had been good. It was just exhausting having your mood spoiled by him and it was clear you were the one he was taking it out on.

Zoro glared down at you, his jaw clenched and eyebrows furrowed so tightly together you thought a vein was about to burst where they met on his forehead. “Well it’ll be a fight either way once they realise it’s us.” he ground out tightly. “Unless you’ve got a better idea? They’re getting closer.” You rolled your eyes at him and strode back into the store, grabbing a pair of sunglasses and hat from their displays. After telling the owner to add it to your crew’s bill you put them on while ignoring the curious stares you were getting from Nami, Franky, and Luffy as they were lifting the crates of supplies into their arms.

Spotting a mirror you reapplied your lipstick and pulled off your jacket, shoving it into Zoro’s chest as you stormed by him and out into the street. “Make yourself useful and hold this.” You instructed and he was half tempted to just let it fall to the ground. But Zoro couldn’t help but grip it tightly as he watched you with practiced apathy. Despite how guarded he was he couldn’t help but push away from the wall when you looked around yourself as you walked and purposely bumped into the two Marines, even making a point to gasp in surprise, whirling to look at the two men. “Oh I’m so sorry!”

“Please don’t apologise!” the shorter of the two men dismissed with a bright smile while he looked you over with interest. “Are you lost?” Zoro ground his teeth together to hear you laugh shyly and play with the end of a lock of your hair.

“Was it that obvious?” You asked stepping closer to the two Marines and pointed behind them, to make them turn. “I’m trying to get to the Fountain Square. Everyone says it’s beautiful at this time of day but I just keep getting turned around.” You explained looping your arms through theirs. “Could you both show me the way?”

“Oh it happens to everyone! Don’t worry you’re in safe hands with us!” the taller Marine promised as he began to walk with you and his companion in the opposite direction. While they rambled, you glanced over your shoulder and gave a single nod to Luffy before you disappeared into the crowd.

“Looks like they’ve got it covered!” Luffy cheered with a unfazed grin. “Let’s get this back to the Sunny, I’m hungry.”

“Zoro?” Zoro stood where he was, barely registering Nami’s call. Everything told him to follow you and make sure you got away from the Marines safely but he couldn’t bring himself to say anything about it or move. If he did it would only admit the feelings he had for you that he’d been trying to kill with his harsh words and cold attitude. “Zoro come on! Don’t tell me you’re lost already. The ship is this way!” Nami called louder. The swordsman bit back a growl and turned on his heel, catching up with the crew and lifted one of the crates from Usopp’s shaking arms. With every step he took, he let his nails dig into the box.

By the time you returned to the ship everything was restocked and you were ready to set sail. As the Sunny pulled from the docks you climbed the crows nest, knowing you’d find Zoro there with your jacket. Only when you saw it had been thrown carelessly over one of the benches you rolled your eyes and grabbed it, ready to go back to your own quarters. You didn’t want to deal with the first mate when the tension rolling off of his body was a hundred times worse than it had been that morning. “Sad to be leaving your boyfriends?” He sneered at you. Angrily you slammed the hatch closed and turned to glare at him.

“Alright what the fuck is wrong with you?” You’d had enough of this and you weren’t leaving until you got to the bottom of this. “Did I offend you in some way? Rip your favourite bandana or something? What have I done that’s so bad for you to look at me like I’m your enemy?”

“Just forget it.”

“No, Zoro. I won’t forget it but do you know what I will do?” You hissed viciously. “I’ll do us both a favour and leave. Unless I get an answer out of you I’ll leave at the next island we get to and never come back because I’m not dealing with this bullshit anymore.”

Faster than you could blink Zoro was in front of you, hands slamming against the wall on either side of your head. Before you could say anything else his lips were on yours; strong, insistent, and overwhelming. Your head was spinning but you managed to regain enough control to return the kiss, hands finding purchase on his broad shoulders, pulling him closer. Hungrily Zoro’s hands slipped to grip your waist and thread into your hair. He couldn’t tell you how he felt but it all came out through his touch and powerful kiss. Finally you broke free and caught your breath enough to manage out a dazed. “Oh…so you don’t hate me then…”

“Definitely not.” You didn’t think that Zoro’s voice could get any lower and you held back a shudder to meet the burning stare that finally made sense. “Hated those assholes cosying up to you though.”

“Two nobody Marines made you jealous?” you asked with a small laugh. You couldn’t help but find it funny, the Demon Pirate Hunter Roronoa Zoro was capable of jealousy. “They’re far too scrawny to be my type.”

“Not just those runts. That last island-”

“Oh him!” you gasped with a grin, remembering the self proclaimed King that you and the rest of the crew helped save. “I didn’t think anyone heard him propose to me before we left though.”

“He what?!” Zoro growled suddenly making you yelped in surprise as his grip tightened and he pushed you against the wall. His lips claiming yours once more with the intention of wiping that stupid king and any other man from your memory until it was only him on your mind and you were only too eager to let him.

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece x you #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro roronoa x reader #one piece imagines #one piece fic #one piece fanfiction #one piece scenario #zoro roronoa x you

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tickfleato · 11 months ago

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how to make cool blobby turing patterns in photoshop

i'll preface with i learned the basic loop from skimming a tutorial on youtube, but as someone who prefers written tutorials i'm sure many would appreciate one! also, the second part of this is some of the visual effects i figured out on my own using blending modes and stuff.

i'm using photoshop CS4 on a mac so some buttons and stuff might be in different places on windows and newer photoshop versions but all the actions are the same. my canvas is 1000x1000 pixels.

UPDATES (i'm hoping these'll show up whenever you open the readmore?)

it's possible to do something similar in krita using this plugin, made by the love @arcaedex

it's also possible to do this in photopea, a free browser alternative to photoshop! the results are pretty much identical.

FIRST off you wanna get or make a black and white image of some kind. it has to be one layer. can be noise, a photo, a bunch of lines, whatever. here's mine, just some quick airbrush lines:

now find the actions tab. idk what it looks like in newer versions of photoshop but you probably won't need to dig!

hit the little page thingy to make a new pattern. once you hit 'record', it'll record everything you do. the little square 'stop' icon will end it.

now you want to do a high pass filter. you can mess around with the radius to change the size of your squiggles, but the tutorial had it set to 6. experiment!

now add the 'threshold' adjustment layer. i use the adjustments tab but i think there's also a dropdown menu somewhere. keep it at the default, 128. merge it down. (control or command + E or you can right click it like some kind of weirdo)

and finally, the gaussian blur! the radius of this affects the shape and size of your squiggles as well. i like to keep it around 4.5 but you can mess around with that too.

after that, hit 'stop' on the action you're recording, and then repeat it a bunch of times using the 'play' button, until you have something you like, like this:

WOW!! that was fun!! and only a little tedious thanks to the power of macros. anyway, here's some fun layer blending stuff i like to do. it's with a different pattern cause i made this bit first.

anyway, using a black and white gradient (or a grey base that you do black and white airbrush on), make a layer with the vivid light. this will make the blobs look thicker or thinner.

then, for cool colors, do a gradient map adjustment layer over that:

and finally, my best friend, the overlay layer. just using a gradient here bc i'm lazy, but feel free to experiment with brushes, colors, and blending modes!

NOW GO. MAKE COOL SHIT WITH THE POWER OF MATH. AND SEND IT TO ME

also these are not hard and fast rules PLEASE mess around with them to see what kind of weird shit you can make. here's a gif. as you can see i added some random airblush blobs in the middle of it, for fun.

#photoshop #turing pattern #tutorial #photoshop tutorial #abstract art #reaction diffusion pattern

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dorims · 8 months ago

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I like the way you make me feel (about you, baby).

gif creds @/cassandrahoward

pairing. roman roy x reader

wc. ~700

genre. fluff

just a morning before work with roman roy

tags. NO beta, english isn't my first language // established relationship, roman's low self-esteem makes a very subtle appearance, suggestive (one line), mentions of roman's slutty waist (literally)

a/n. i love him your honor, thats it. i was also gonna add that for some reason i seem to be keen of writing intimate scenes inside bathrooms but that come outs...weirder than it is lol ANYWAY i hope u enjoy !!

“I have a what?”

You could see the furrow of his brows through the mirror. It made you bite back a giggle, hiding the cheeky smile on your lips behind his shoulder.

“A slutty waist.” you mumbled against his work shirt, pulling him tighter against you. It was impossible not to interrupt his morning routine when he wore those shirts and those pants and when he looked way too good for your own good. Which, to be fair, was more often than not. Regardless, there was something about him in the mornings, when his tie laid over his shoulders unknotted and his hair fell over his forehead free of gel.

“Uh…thanks?” He looked baffled while making eye contact, and you only broke it when he shook his head, your eyes teetering upwards to see his profile. “Between the two of us, I always thought you were the slut but oh well-“

“That's not how it works!” You laughed, slapping his shoulder lightly. He pulled your arms tighter around him gently, missing the pressure around his body when you stepped backwards.

It felt good for you too. Feeling the warmth of him after fighting your way out under the comforter made up for being woken up at 6 in the morning by his alarm.

“Well,” interrupting himself as his fingers fought the silk of his tie into a knot. “I don’t want to be the only one that's getting slut-shamed.”

“I didn’t call you a slut, I called your waist slutty.”

“Oh, so you’re slut-shaming my waist, same difference.” He scoffed, basking in the way you rolled your eyes as you turned his body to face you.

He wanted to complain as your arms snaked away from his waist but held back once he felt your fingers pick up both ends of his tie. At this point, he wasn’t sure if it was some sort of weaponized incompetence or actual incompetence that didn’t allow him to tie it properly by himself. A mix of both, probably, but you always did it better than him.

Plus, if he had to access some weird part of his brain, then he’d have to admit he quite liked it when you let it get tighter than usual before loosening it up.

“You say that as if you’ve never slut-shamed me.” You joked, pretending not to notice how he shivered when your fingers grazed his neck as you flipped the collar.

“I don't slut-shame you, I slut-praise you.” Smirking as if trying to hide the effect you had on him, he quipped back. His attempt fell flat though. He swallowed down hard when you finished the loop of the tie with a gentle yet firm tug before smoothing it out.

“In that case, I’m praising your slutty waist too.” You let your hands trail down his chest until your grip rested on his hips. Gentle as always, your touch felt all too warm. The mushiness of being tired, you supposed. He thought so too as you pulled him closer, “And I’ll keep doing so because I think you’re,” and placed a gentle kiss against his and then hovering, intertwining each word with another. “beautiful and hot and gorgeous and breathtakingly stunning—“

“Oh fuck off, get out of here.” He broke into a bashful smile, cheeks tinted pink as you punctuated your affection with a kiss on his cheek.

“You’re lucky you’re pretty.” You sighed, pushing yourself off him to let him get ready, though not before lingering against the door frame. “I’m gonna make coffee, you want some?”

He chuckled, “You know we have people to do that, right?”

“I know,” you shrugged, “but I enjoy making some for you.”

You didn’t need verbal confirmation from him. Knowing the answer had grown into a pleasant habit, the same way picking the coffee he liked and using the same brand of low-fat milk had.

You closed the door with a lovesickness unlike any dripping from a smile of your own. And if he had to access an even darker, twisted and weirder part of his brain, as he had done before, he would struggle to admit that the way you cared made him feel awfully warm, like hinting to the despair that gnawed at the back of his head that he wasn’t as unlovable as he thought.

#roman roy x reader #roman roy x you #roman roy fluff #roman roy #succession #succession fanfiction #roman roy imagine #succession imagine

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hippiegoth97 · 8 months ago

Text

Into the Fire: An Eddie Munson x Reader Story Pt. 1

A/N: Hey, everybody! The time has finally come. My two-year project, Into the Fire, is (almost) finally complete. I originally published this on Wattpad, but I’ve reformatted and edited the hell out of it to make it neater for this platform. This story has been my baby, a work of love and devotion to the fictional man that resides in my heart: Eddie Munson. I’m excited to share it with all of you, as it’s my proudest achievement. If you’re ever curious to know who I am as a writer, as a fan, and as a person, this is it. Please like, comment, reblog, follow to your heart’s content. And if you’d like to join my tag list, feel free to let me know.

Collage by me :)

Masterlist

Tag List: @rafescurtainbangz @voyeurmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @taintedcigs @mediocredreams

@slowandsteddie @angel-munson @eldermayfield @munsonsbtch @babygorewhore

@rattkween86 @violetpixiedust @bimbobaggins69 @purplehazed-h @morning-rituals

@eddie-van-munson @msgexymunson @munsoneightysixx @impmunson @mysticalstar30

@jenniquinn @oneforthemunny @succubusmunson @ddeadly-succubus @prettyboyeddiemunson

@sanctumdemunson @stalactitekilla @s6raphic @hellfirenacht @birdysaturne

@ohmeg @h-ness1944 @pretendthisnameisclever @ahoyyharrington @micheledawn1975

@costellation-hunter @josephquinnsfreckles

Content Warning 18+ Only, Minors DNI: Mentions of blood, smoking, crying, angst, smut, teasing, fingering, use/mentions of drugs and alcohol, orgasm denial, small argument, oral sex, unprotected sex, praise/degradation, squirting

Word Count: 15k

Divider by @strangergraphics

Part 1.1: Fast Times at Hawkins U

Friday, March 10th, 1989

"Can I please host Hellfire here this weekend, Mom? The theater room is being repainted, and the Wheeler's have temporarily banned us because Mike is grounded. This campaign is really important, weeks of work have gone into this." You're sitting on the couch, listening to your brother Dustin pleading with your mother in the kitchen.

"I don't know, Dusty. You know we don't have a lot of extra money to spend on food for all your friends. I love that you have a good bond with them since Will moved away, but isn't there somewhere else you can go?" Your mother has always been worried about money since Dad skipped out on you. You'd initially offered to get a job once you were out of high school, but she insisted you focus on college and just 'enjoy being young before it's too late'.

"See, I knew you'd be concerned about that, but everyone else is bringing snacks and stuff. You won't need to worry, Mom. We won't ask you for anything, I promise! We just need the space, nobody else's house is big enough for everybody." You can't help but smile to yourself, Dustin always thinks of everything. He's always been a sweet, considerate kid. Sure, he’s passionate about his interests, but he never wants to add to your mother's burden. He may be young, but he’s smart enough to understand that she isn't made of money. Most kids would throw a fit or cry, but not Dustin. He thinks logically, working around every problem like a little mastermind.

"Oh, alright! As long as you clean up after yourselves, and try to keep the noise down when it gets late, you can host your club, sweetie." Mom has a hard time saying no when Dustin eliminates any concerns she’s posed, which admittedly isn't hard to do.

"Thanks, Mom! You're the best!" He cheers as he squeezes Mom tightly in a hug, she returns it with just as much strength. Your family is notorious for lung-crushing hugs. When they finally loosen their grip, Dustin jumps into the air in excitement. "I'm gonna go call everyone and tell them we're all set to go!" He rushes past you to the phone, rapidly dialing each member of the club, manically telling them your home is officially a hosting place for D&D starting tomorrow after school. Once everyone has been let in the loop, Dustin collapses back into his chair, catching his breath.

"You must be really excited for this campaign, huh?" You tease him.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I am! It's probably the most important one we've ever had. And the longest, too. Eddie's been planning it for months." He beams at you, eyes wide and his smile impossibly large. But the thing that really stirs your interest is the mention of the club's leader, Eddie.

"Eddie's still leading you guys? I figured he would've passed the title down after he finished school." You remember him from high school, he just barely graduated in '86 with your class after being held back twice. Everyone expected him to drop out, but you admired the fact that he proved them wrong. You've always thought he was cute, but you ran in more academic circles. You weren't popular by any means, you were still a full-on nerd. But Eddie never treated you poorly. In fact, it was the opposite. He may act tough sometimes, but he's a big softy when he lets his guard down. You’re excited for him to be here, in your house, for three whole days. It’ll give you plenty of time to check him out, maybe even make a move if he isn't too busy with the game.

"Yeah, he meant to pick one of us to take over. I guess he gets kinda lonely and wants to stick around. He works sometimes, but when he isn't there's not much for him to do. His uncle works at the plant all night and sleeps all day. And everyone else is either in college or still in high school. So, the club is really all he has going on right now. He would have the band too, but the others have all gone out of state. He misses them a lot. We all do. They're some of our best players, really decent guys, too." Dustin's eyes look so sad, he really feels bad for Eddie. And you can't help but have sympathy for him as well. He made a place for freaks and geeks to feel accepted, and in the end, he's the one who got left behind. "Oh, shit. Don't tell him I told you any of this. He doesn't even acknowledge being lonely, I just couldn't help but pick up on it. He'll be so embarrassed if he knows I said anything." Dustin's eyes widen as he tries to right his mistake. You just smile at him.

"I won't say a word, Dusty. Your secret is safe with me. It's nice that you're so concerned for him, though. He's lucky to have you as a friend." You stand up to go to bed, ruffling his hair as you walk past. "Goodnight, kiddo." You call after him. You're halfway down the hall when a thought occurs to you, one that could benefit both you and Eddie. You walk backwards to face Dustin again. "Hey, would it be cool if I watched you guys play? I don't want to throw off your flow by trying to learn to play during your 'important' campaign. But I'd like to see how it goes, and maybe join you guys next time?" His eyes light up at your suggestion. He's tried for years to get you to play, but it didn’t seem like your style. But now that Eddie would be taking up temporary residence in your home, you figured now was as good a time as any to seek it out.

"Yeah, that'd be awesome! And I'm sure everyone would be cool with it." He takes a moment to think over your sudden motivation to join the club, finding it suspicious. "Wait a minute...you've never been interested any of the times I practically begged you to play. What's changed?" He quirks an eyebrow at you curiously.

"Oh, you know. I figure I should finally see what all the fuss is about. You've worn me down, kiddo." You reply nervously. You hope he'll take the bullshit, but it's unlikely. He's too smart for that.

He gives you a knowing look, smiling just a bit too big. "You sure it has nothing to do with Eddie staying in our house for three days?" Your eyes widen, he always sees right through you. Damn this kid's intellect. You don't dare to give him the satisfaction of being right.

"NO!" You protest, knitting your eyebrows in annoyance. "I just think life is short, and I should get some quality time with my baby brother. That's all! Now, I'm going to bed. And if you so much as imply that I like Eddie in any way when your friends are here, I'm going to smother you in your sleep!" You start walking back down the hall, ignoring Dustin's giggling. You slam your bedroom door shut, slumping to the floor as you lean against it. You dread what's to come tomorrow, Dustin is sure to blow it for you. He’s notorious for flapping his gums when he’s overly amused by something. And him discovering your crush on Eddie is one of the most amusing things he's ever heard.

You eventually climb into bed, trying to put thoughts of how badly tomorrow could go out of your mind. You try to focus on something nice, something good to help you fall asleep. Before you know it, Eddie floods your brain. You let your mind wander thinking about him. How handsome he is, with his long hair and tattoos. How soft his lips look, his deep brown eyes that shine so bright. His torn jeans, his leather jacket and battle vest, his Hellfire shirt. You imagine how all of his clothing would feel under your fingertips. You can't help but wonder what his lips taste like. Cigarettes for sure, but maybe something else too? You frequently saw him eating sweets at school, they seemed to be his weakness. So maybe he also tastes like chocolate, or artificial strawberries. Your mouth waters at the thought. You hope you have a chance to find out, though you aren't sure Eddie even sees you that way. You haven't seen him much since high school, so you aren't even sure he'd remember you. You drift off to sleep just as you begin to imagine kissing him.

"Y/N! Hey, Y/N! Wake up! You're gonna be late!" You stir in bed, groaning loudly, pulling the comforter over your head. "Sweetie, you have classes today, and you slept through your alarm." Your eyes snap open, your mind fully realizing Mom is trying to wake you up. Your dreams were vivid and strange. Eddie was there, handsome as always. You know you were doing something with him, but the dream is slipping away from you as your mother chides you about the importance of being on time.

"Yeah, sorry, Mom. I was dreaming really heavily, but I'm getting up. I won't be late, promise." You babble with sleep still on your lips, stumbling from your bed to your dresser. You make quick work of getting dressed, barely putting any effort into your outfit. Jeans and a t-shirt will do. You brush your hair haphazardly, and don't even bother with makeup. You never really wear much anyways, but you definitely don't have time now. You run to the bathroom to brush your teeth, you can't go to class with morning breath.

"Dreaming, huh? What about?" Mom asks as she follows your path, a little too intrigued. You hope that Dustin hasn't let slip that you have a crush on one of his friends.

"Um, I can't remember. It slips away so easily once I wake up. But I'm sure it wasn't that interesting. It's usually about school." You blush as you lie, frantically going back to your bedroom to toss your books in your bag. You zip it shut and sling it over your shoulders, going down the hall to the kitchen. You grab an apple from the counter, you'll eat it on the way to school. You walk towards the entryway, slipping your feet into your sneakers. Mom follows close behind you, still digging.

"Okayyyy, if you say so. But it wouldn't hurt if you had dreams about someone. A boy, perhaps? You could stand to date someone, you've barely brought anyone home before. And you're already twenty. Men won't be chasing after you for much longer." You know Mom doesn't mean that in a hurtful way, it’s just her personal experience. Since Dad left, she's never had much luck in the small dating pool Hawkins has to offer. Especially to someone her age who has two kids. You can't help but be a bit annoyed by her prying into your personal business, though.

"Mom, I'm telling you it was nothing. And even if it was, it's none of your business. And I'm only twenty, there's plenty of time for finding a man, if I even want to do that. I'm an adult, and I'll talk to you about things like this when I want to. But I can't have this conversation right now, or maybe ever. I'm already running late. I'll be back after classes. I love you, Mom." She stands speechless with her mouth hanging open as you walk out the door. You slam it behind you, hating that her lecture has put you in a bad mood. You glance at your watch, shaking your head. Class starts in ten minutes, but it's a fifteen minute bike ride. You think you can make it if you really push yourself.

You go to the side of the house to retrieve your bike. You do have your license, but Mom needs the car for her job. You hop onto the bike, and begin pedaling as fast as you can down the road. You're panting as you pedal, struggling to take bites of your apple while you ride. You're approaching the downtown area, the streets are busy with people on their way to work and school, you have to be careful here. You're lucky enough to hit every green light as you pass the pharmacy, the library, the movie theater.

You're still a ways away from the community college, you check your watch again. Five minutes left, and you need at least eight. You look back up to see that the light you're coming to is yellow, about to turn red. You don't have time to stop, so you pedal even harder. Your lungs are on fire at this point, and you've given up on your apple.

You zoom into the intersection, just as a beat-up van begins to move forward on your right. It collides into you, hitting your front tire and knocking you over. You scream as you fall, scraping your hands and knees against the road. The apple falls from your hand, rolling into the intersection. The van stops, the tires screeching loudly. You're laying on the ground, shaking with fear. You hear the driver open the door and hop out to check on you. Other vehicles have also stopped, drivers stepping out to observe the scene.

"Oh, fuck. Are you alright?" You hear a familiar voice from the driver of the van. No, this cannot be happening. Not here, not him, not now. You feel two large hands grabbing your shoulders to sit you up to face him. You turn your head and find Eddie kneeling next to you. "Hey, you okay, Henderson?" He asks, concern lacing his voice. He does remember me. He waves a hand in front of you, but you're too dumbstruck to say anything. "Did you hit your head? How many fingers am I holding up?" He asks as he puts up three fingers.

"Three. And I'm fine, just some scrapes. Nothing to worry about. I'm gonna be late for class." You try to stand, but you hiss as you feel your palms and knees sting. You start to fall again. Eddie catches you in his arms.

"Let me see." He says, looking into your eyes. You show him your hands, they're bleeding and have little pebbles lodged in the cuts. He checks your knees, your jeans are torn, and the flesh is also scraped and bloody. "Okay, I'll get you in the van. We'll get you cleaned up and then I'll drive you to class." He stutters as he speaks, he's pretty shaken up. Eddie stands with you still in his arms, carrying you to the passenger door. He's surprisingly strong, given how skinny he is. He opens the door, placing you inside the passenger seat, gently shutting you inside.

Eddie goes to grab your bike from the road, but the front tire is busted. "Shit." You hear him mutter as he lifts it up. You see the damage, cursing yourself for being so careless. Now you don't have a way to class, unless you walk. He carries the bike to the back of the van, placing it in as politely as possible. He shuts the doors, and runs back to the front. The onlookers are still staring, making your cheeks burn red. It's so embarrassing, half the town saw you eat it in the middle of the road. Eddie waves them away, assuring he'll take care of you and your bike.

Everyone seems satisfied and moves on with their day. Traffic resumes movement, and Eddie enters the van again. "I'm so sorry, Y/N. I'll do everything I can to tend to your wounds and fix your bike." He says, eyes focused on the road as he starts driving. But he's not going towards your school. Instead, he's heading in the direction of the supermarket.

"No, Eddie. Don't be sorry. I was the one rushing, risking exactly what happened just now so I could make it on time. I was being stupid. And don't worry, I'm not expecting you to do anything for me. It's my own fault, I一"

"Cut that shit out, Y/N. I don't want you to blame yourself. It wasn't exactly smart, but I'm the one that hit you. So relax, and let me help you. Shit, I forgot how stubborn you can be." He looks at you with stern eyes, serious about taking care of you. You nod silently, deciding to do as he asks. "Good, now I'm gonna go in the store and get supplies to clean you up." He says as he pulls into the lot of the market, parking as close to the door as possible. "Do you want anything while I'm in there, Henderson?" He asks.

"No thanks. I don't want to be any trouble." You shake your head.

"It's the least I can do, Y/N. I did almost run you over with my van, after all. You're sure you don't want anything?" He tentatively waits for your answer.

"It's very sweet of you, Eddie. But I promise, I'm fine. Just try not to take too long. My mom's gonna kill me if she knows I missed classes today." You plead at him with your eyes to just do what he insists on doing and get you to school as soon as possible. He nods, seeming to get the message.

"No problem, princess. Just wait here, I won't be long." He smiles at you, and leaves the van, running into the store. You can't help but look at his ass while he runs, feeling your cheeks heat up when you realize what you’ve done. You also realize something else. He called you 'princess'. You giggle at the nickname, replaying how it sounded coming from Eddie's lips. You don't even notice Eddie getting back into the van about ten minutes later as you continue to fantasize about him. "Hello? Earth to Y/N. You sure you didn't hit your head?" Eddie waves his hands in front of your face again, snapping you out of your trance.

"Sorry. I'm fine. No concussions here, I swear." Your cheeks burn even more as he's caught you daydreaming.

"Maybe not, but you're looking redder than a commie right about now. What were you thinking about?" Eddie smirks, mentally guessing what potentially dirty things played out inside your head.

You gasp at his question, feeling exposed. "Uh...nothing. Just a dream I had last night. It's not important."

"Hmm, a dream you say? And what, pray tell, were you dreaming about?" He's very curious to know if perhaps he made an appearance. He can't help but smile wider, watching your whole face turn a deep shade of crimson. He thinks you're so cute when you're embarrassed.

"It's nothing you'd want to hear about. Girly stuff. We're wasting time here, I really need to get to class." You look down at your hands, the blood on them turning a dark brown as it dries.

"Right." He sighs, frowning. He didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. He reaches into the bag of items he bought, pulling out some disinfectant and a couple rags. He opens the bottle, squirting some of the liquid onto one of the rags. You hold your hands out to him, and he takes one of your wrists. "This is gonna sting, but I have to get all the blood and dirt off before I can pick out the pebbles." You just nod to give him the go-ahead. He wipes your palm gently, dabbing away the dirt and blood. You hiss in pain, you've never had so much skin scraped off before. "It's alright, Y/N. I'm tryin’ to be quick, but gentle. I don't wanna hurt you more than I already have." His eyes meet yours for a moment, and you see his gentle expression. It makes you blush again, which he takes note of, smiling slightly.

"It's fine, Eddie. Really." You try to reassure him, but he's not convinced. He finishes disinfecting your hands, and goes back into the bag to pull out some tweezers. Eddie makes quick work of plucking all the tiny rocks out of your skin. "Ouch!" You yelp as he accidentally pinches your sore flesh, almost pulling your hand away.

"Shit, sorry. I'm tryin’ my best, some of these fuckers are tiny." He brings his face closer to your hands, his tongue sticking out in concentration as he looks over his work. He pulls out one more stone, dropping it on the floor. "And...done!" He says cheerfully, and you can't help but giggle at him. "Ha! Finally, a smile on that pretty face!" He smirks at you, and it gives you a chill. "Jeez, you are something else, Y/N." He chuckles as he pulls out some ointment and bandages.

"What do you mean?" You question, starting to feel nervous. Did he see you checking him out? No, he couldn't have. You know how to be subtle.

"Relax, Henderson. It's not that serious. What I mean though, is that you're very keen on putting on a brave face for some reason. You've got all these walls built up. You act like you don't need anybody, when clearly you do." He focuses on bandaging your hands as he speaks, the feeling of his skin on yours making you tingle.

"Is that right?" You ask incredulously. You want to feel offended by his words, but he's got you all figured out. You try your best to be independent, and you don't take kindly to people doting on you. You don't want to be a burden.

"Oh, I know I'm right. You've always been like that, even back in high school. You refused any help with bullies, or when your Dad left. You hold up the world on your shoulders, but you don't need to carry so much weight. It's not all yours, ya know." He lifts your bandaged hands up, turning them over. He kisses them lightly while making eye contact with you.

Your eyes widen, and you can't help gasping. "You don't know me, Munson." You snatch your hands away, trying to be angry with him. You hate that he sees right through you. It makes you feel like everybody else does, too. And all they see under your tough exterior is a scared little girl who can't handle anything.

"I didn't mean to offend you, Y/N. I'm just trying to help." Eddie says quietly, turning his attention to your knees. You suck in a breath at the sting of cleanser again, luckily there aren't any pebbles in your legs. You just want him to hurry up and take you to school. You’ve already got a plan hatched now. You’re going to finish out your day, go home, and tell Dustin to forget having you sit in on Hellfire tonight. You can't sit across from Eddie after he's laid everything out like this. It’s so embarrassing, and you want to hate him for it.

"Look, I appreciate the concern. But I don't need your help. I don't need anyone’s help. I can do just fine on my own, and I don't need you digging into my head like this. If I needed someone to do that, I'd see a fucking psychiatrist. Got it?" You almost yell at him, your heart pounding in your chest. His mouth falls open in shock, and he just stares at you. After a moment he's smirking again, and it gives you the urge to slap him. "Why are you looking at me like that, Eddie? Am I amusing to you?" You scowl at him. He can really be an ass sometimes.

"You are very amusing to me, Y/N. In more ways than you think. But I gotta say, you look sexy when you're angry." He chuckles, resuming his work. You can only manage to laugh with him, feeling like you've lost your mind. The fact that you yelled at him hasn't disturbed him in the slightest. Not only that, he thinks it was attractive. "And I'm not meaning to pry, sweetheart. But, can I level with you?" You nod while rolling your eyes, refusing to say anything. He might as well keep talking since you're not fully bandaged yet. "This whole defensive thing you're doing doesn't help anybody. I get why you do it, I've been there. But it seems like what you really need is someone to be there for you. Sure, you've got Dustin and your mom, but you don't seem to have anyone outside of your family. Everyone needs that, Y/N. And all I'm trying to do is be that person for you, but only if you let me. Bottling up the way you do is only going to make you explode later. And next time, it might be on someone much less forgiving than me."

You take some time to think over what Eddie’s just said, mulling the words over in your mind. He’s right. Outside of your home, you don't have anyone. All your friends from Hawkins High went elsewhere for college. And your current lab partner definitely doesn't count, either. You sigh, admitting defeat. "Alright, fine. You've got me pegged, Eds. And yeah, I'm defensive. I have good reason to be, though. I learned the hard way that you can't rely on or trust anyone." Tears begin to build in your eyes, and you curse yourself for letting your emotions get the best of you. Eddie just nods, listening to you speak. "When Dad left, it tore our family apart. He ran off with his secretary, for fuck's sake. How cliche can you get? He doesn't even send birthday cards to me or Dusty. No calls, no visits, nothing. He just up and decided he didn't want us anymore."

You sob after the last sentence leaves your lips. You can't hold back anymore, and you don't want to. You feel a rush of relief washing over you as you cry. You've never opened up to anyone about how your parents separating has affected you. Tons of people get divorced, most of them with kids. You’ve told yourself there’s no reason for you to be upset over something so normal. You’ve never allowed yourself to feel anything about it at all, until now.

Eddie finishes bandaging you up, and tosses the remaining supplies into the back of the van. Then he pulls you from your seat, and into his lap. He holds you in his arms, wiping your tears as they run down your face. Your head lays on his shoulder, and your arms are wrapped around his neck. He looks down at you with genuine care, which makes your heart swell. "I'm so sorry, princess. Your dad sounds like a real piece of shit. You deserve so much better than that." He strokes your hair, keeping it out of your eyes.

"I'm glad you think so, Eds." You sniffle. "But I can't help but wonder what I did to make him want nothing to do with me. I was only twelve. What does a twelve year old do so wrong that her own father abandons her?" You look into Eddie's eyes, begging him for the answer. But who can truly answer such a question?

"Nothing, Y/N. It's not on you, or Dustin, or even your mom. He acted on his own selfishness, that's all. I really hope you won't continue to blame yourself for that." His hand caresses your cheek, the cool metal of his rings making you shiver.

"I guess when you put it like that, it's pretty stupid. I'll try not to do that anymore." You say sadly, and he frowns slightly.

"It's not stupid, Y/N. People blame themselves all the time when they get hurt by others. I'm just saying you don't have to, because it isn't your fault. That's it. So quit insulting yourself, okay?"

"Okay. I promise." You reply quietly, nodding in agreement.

"Good. Now, let's get you to class, hm? I'm sure you missed a good chunk by now, but you'll live." He smiles at you, patting your thigh for you to get off of him. You climb back into your own seat, and Eddie starts up the van again.

It only takes a few minutes to reach Hawkins Community College, and the whole ride there is in silence. The air between you and Eddie feels different now, electric. You don't want to bring attention to it, you doubted Eddie’s even noticed. He parks right in front of the main entrance, turning to look at you. You mirror him, he seems like he's waiting for you to break the silence. "Thanks for um...driving me here. And helping me, and listening to me. You're a nice guy, Eddie." You say while looking down at your hands.

"Please, it's the least I could do. And I'll take your bike to the repair shop for you. What time are you done with classes today?" He asks.

"Uh, three-thirty. Why?" You ask, confused.

"So I can pick you up, silly. You didn't think I'd let you walk all the way home did you? What kind of man do you take me for?" He says in feigned offense, clutching his chest like you’ve stabbed him.

"Oh, well, thank you. I appreciate that, Eddie." You smile at him, and he smiles back. "I guess I should be going, I'll see you later." You turn to open your door, when you feel his hand on your arm. You turn to face him again. "Something wrong?" You ask when you see how desperate he looks to say something to you.

"No, I just一" Eddie stares at you a moment, before deciding to bite his tongue. "Nevermind." He shakes his head, laughing it off. "Have a good day, princess. I'll be back at three-thirty, 'kay?" He blushes slightly, and you wonder what that's about. Eddie is not one to blush, not without good reason. You decide to look past it, focusing on the fact that you're very late for class.

"Okay, three-thirty. Thanks again, Eddie. Really." You open the door and hop down out of the van. You groan slightly as your knees still hurt to bend, today is going to be rough. You glance back at him before closing the door. "See you later, Munson." You grin up at him.

"Later, Y/N." He replies, smirking back at you. You shut the door, turning to walk inside. You make a point to sway your hips just a bit more than usual as you walk, hoping he'll appreciate the view. He seems to because you hear him accidentally honk the horn. You turn back to look. Eddie's blushing like an idiot, smacking his head in embarrassment that his hand slipped as he was staring at your ass. You giggle as you wave coyly at him. He waves back, visibly gulping from nervousness. He shakily starts up the van, tearing out of the parking lot like he just pulled off a bank robbery.

You can't help but laugh at the sight. You made the Eddie Munson lose his cool. Not many people can boast that achievement. You run into the school, thinking about how fun this weekend is truly going to be. You only hope the clock will move faster than usual so you can see Eddie again.

Part 1.2: Do You Wanna Touch Me?

You're in your final class for the day, the large clock on the wall reads 3:25. Just five more minutes until you get to see Eddie again, he's been playing over in your mind all day. You haven't even bothered to pay attention in class, all you can think about is how big his smile is, how his voice sounds, the way his hands feel when they touch you. Luckily none of your professors have called on you like they usually do. Perhaps they’ve noticed your bandages and decided it best to let you be today. You look at the clock again, 3:27. Fuck, can't time go any faster?

You try your hardest to stop staring at that damn clock, looking out the large window to your right. It gives you a great view of the parking lot, and you just happen to see Eddie out there. He's leaning against the van, smoking a cigarette. God, he looks so hot when he smokes. You've never really gotten into it, but you wouldn't mind smoking with him. He's not that far away, but doesn't seem to notice you staring.

"Alright everyone, that's all for today! Don't forget to do the reading on microorganisms. And your 10-page essays on Bacteria vs. Viruses are due on Monday! I'll see you all next week." You're snapped out of your trance as your professor dismisses the class. You gather your things, shoving them into your bag. You dash out of the classroom, running down the halls to get outside. You push the front door open, and rush over to Eddie.

"Well, well, someone's happy to see me!" Eddie greets you as he takes another drag. You lean against the van beside Eddie, twiddling with your hands.

"Maybe. You are my ride home, after all. Is the bike fixed yet?" You ask.

"Oh, it'll be ready next week. I've got a guy who owes me a favor, so he'll do it free of charge. But I can drive you until then, if you like." Eddie says with the cigarette between his lips. He pulls the pack from his jacket pocket, gesturing it at you to offer you one.

"Oh, thanks." You grab a cigarette from the box, holding it between your fingers. Eddie pulls out his lighter, igniting it. You put the cigarette to your lips, leaning into the flame. You take a long drag, letting the smoke flow back out casually. He just stares at you as he puts the pack and lighter away. "And yeah, I guess you can be my ride." A sly smile spreads on your lips as you speak. He chokes on the drag he’s inhaling, your phrasing taking him by surprise. You playfully smack his chest and laugh. "Not like that, you pervert. You can drive me to school, as long as it's not too much trouble."

"No trouble at all, princess." He says, clearing his throat. "But I think you know full well what you're doing. It's cute, but very dangerous." His eyes have changed, they seem darker now. His free hand is stroking your arm suggestively, and it makes your skin tingle. You shudder at the sensation, and he smirks.

"And what exactly do you think I'm doing?" You ask, playing dumb. You can't help your heart starting to race, though, or your voice becoming unsteady. You can't stop staring into his eyes, they almost hypnotize you.

"I think you're being a tease, Y/N." He speaks to you lowly now, his tone deep and seductive. His lips come very close to yours as he speaks. "Now, I like you. And you seem to like me, too. All I'm saying is that two can play at your little game, and I always win." Eddie leans in just a little bit more, and you instinctively move to close the gap. Your eyes close as you expect to make contact with him. But before your lips can meet, Eddie moves his head back. You stumble forward in the newly empty space. Eddie laughs as you open your eyes, blushing when you realize he faked you out. "Something wrong, princess?" He teases, feigning ignorance to what he just did.

"You-" Your mouth moves but no words seem to form. You can't believe he’d play you for a fool like that. If it's a game he wants, it's a game he'll get. "You're an ass. You know that?" Is all you can manage to say. You scoot away from him slightly, crossing your arms. You glare at him, and he's just grinning like the devil. You take another drag, huffing the smoke out as you exhale.

"What? Giving up already?" He moves closer, laughing in amusement.

"What exactly are you proposing, Munson? Are you challenging me like the child you are?" You question him, cocking an eyebrow. You're annoyed, but admittedly very interested in playing with him.

"Hey, if anyone's the child here, it's you. You're the one getting all pissy. But yes, I am indeed offering you a challenge. Which you totally started, by the way." He's far too entertained for your liking, and you roll your eyes. "Come on, you mean to tell me you aren't dying to know which of us would cave in to lust first? I saw you staring at my ass when I went in the store earlier. Those automatic doors sure are reflective, sweetheart." You gasp, blushing at the fact that he did see you, and didn't say anything this whole time.

"Oh, you're one to talk, Eddie! You literally honked at me as you watched MY ass walk into school!" You poke a finger into his chest roughly. "I don't think you're as controlled as you claim you are. You know what? You're on! And when I win, you'll be sorry."

He's unphased by your words, his expression staying the same. "And when I win, you'll be mine." He whispers, and he plants a kiss on your neck. You tense at the contact, the back of your head hitting the van. "Watch your head there, Y/N. Don't need a concussion ruining our fun, do we?" He laughs, flicking his spent cigarette away. You take the last drag of yours, blowing the smoke in his face. You stomp the butt out on the pavement, and wordlessly get into the passenger side. Eddie runs around the other side, climbing into his seat. "Before we head to your place, I gotta pick up a couple members of the club. Ian and James Tanner. I'm sure you've met them before. Then we have to make a snack run, per Dustin's request. If you don't mind helping, I'd highly appreciate it." He reaches over nonchalantly to place his hand just above your knee.

You stare at his hand, feeling your body start to heat up. You're already frazzled and he's barely touched you. You meet his gaze, shocked to see him looking cool as a cucumber. Eddie smiles at you innocently as his hand travels further up to your thigh. It stays there, squeezing the flesh, and you struggle to speak. "Y-Yeah. I can help, no problem." You smile weakly. Dammit, he’s way too good at this. You'll be lucky to last until you get home at the rate he's going.

"Sounds like a plan, sweetheart." He lets go of your thigh, turning to face the steering wheel. He shifts the van into gear, pulling out of the lot a bit too fast. He may not show it on the outside, but he's just as revved up as you are. He carelessly swerves and makes turns at the wrong times. Luckily he hasn't caused an accident by the time you reach the Tanner house.

It's a small house with a broken front window. Weeds are overgrown in the yard, and a yapping chihuahua runs towards the van. Two boys are sitting on the front stoop, and they wave as you pull into the driveway. You recognize them, Dustin has had them over for sleepovers before as they're in the same grade. Ian and James are identical twins, and they’re very kind and polite. They aren't well off by any means, but they never show it. The boys stand up in unison, quickly moving to the back of the van. They climb in the double doors, tossing heavy backpacks down. A woman who appears to be their mother waves from the screen door, opening it slightly to let the dog inside. Eddie waves back, smiling at her.

"Hey, Y/N." Ian and James say simultaneously as they settle in just before Eddie peels away from their humble home.

"Hello, boys. You excited for your big campaign?" You crane your neck to speak to the boys. You make a point to be extra nice to Dustin's friends, they usually need it more than most.

"Hell yeah!" Ian chirps. James nods in agreement.

"I bet. Dusty won't shut up about it, so much so that he convinced me to sit in and watch. And maybe next time I'll join you in playing." You look at Eddie, who's eyebrow cocks at your suggestion. "Oh, I hope that's okay, Eddie." You say as you bat your eyelashes at him.

"Of course, Y/N. Who am I to deny such a pretty girl, hm?" His eyes blaze with glee, he’ll certainly use this idea against you in your little bet.

"Shit." You mutter under your breath.

"What was that, princess?" Eddie inquires. He doesn't miss a damn thing, does he? You can't help but marvel at him, tonight is sure to be interesting.

"Nothing. Nothing at all." You say plainly. You turn to gaze out the window, you don't dare look in his direction. He plays nice for the remainder of the drive to the store, blasting Metallica on the stereo. You let yourself space out, trying to cool off. How does he manage to be so sexy while doing so little? You suddenly feel Eddie shaking your shoulder to get your attention.

"Hey, space cadet. It's time to shop, let's go." Eddie massages your shoulder slightly, teasing you again. It shouldn't be making your skin light on fire, but somehow it does. You do your best to hold back a moan, biting your lip. Eddie grins at you, eating up any reaction you give him. You all exit the van, walking into the store in pairs. The twins in front, you and Eddie behind. You quickly separate from the group, some distance could help you keep calm. But Eddie has other ideas. You grab a handbasket and make a beeline for the chips, and stand for a bit deciding between Classic or BBQ. Eddie walks behind you, dragging his hand across your back as he goes past. You gasp, whipping your head to look at him. "Something the matter, Y/N?" He asks innocently.

"Nope. All good." You answer, acting neutral. You pick the BBQ chips and put them in your basket. You pretend to look at liters of soda on the other side as you walk, stopping right behind him. You bring your hand up to his head, digging your fingers into his hair. You scratch on his scalp real slow, and he moans. Ha! Point: Y/N. You stop shortly after, moving your hand away. He turns around to look at you, but your back is turned now. You act like you don't even notice him, picking up a couple large bottles of Mountain Dew. Once they're secure in your basket, you feel Eddie smack your ass. Hard. You yelp in surprise, almost dropping the basket to the floor. Point: Eddie.

"Shhh, better keep quiet. We don't want the kiddos to know what we're up to." He whispers into your ear, making you shudder. Eddie's standing very close behind you, his body heat radiating from him. You decide to get even by backing yourself into him, making sure your ass rubs right over his crotch. He whimpers at the contact. Point: Y/N. "Fuck, you don't play fair, do you?" He purrs. He moves your hair to the side, exposing your neck. He then proceeds to lick the entire length of it, all the way to your jaw.

"Jesus, Eddie. How are you so fucking hot?" You say with a lustful sigh, proud of yourself for not moaning. Although, the feeling of his warm tongue is quickly getting you wet.

"Practice, I guess. And that sexy little sigh you let out still counts, princess." Dammit. Point: Eddie. You separate yourself from him again, walking to the next aisle. Rows of shiny candy bars glisten in front of you. You make sure to get some 3 Musketeers, Dustin's favorite. You're about to grab your own favorite, when Eddie suddenly appears beside you. He grips your wrist, stopping your movement. You try to resist, but he's stronger than you. He brings your wrist up to his lips, kissing it while looking in your eyes. You stare at him, mouth agape as he kisses your arm all the way to the inside of your elbow.

You're feeling ridiculously warm in here, maybe the AC is busted. Your eyes are wide, your chest rising and falling quicker than usual. You give no other reaction, much to Eddie's dismay. He drops your arm, picking out a Hershey bar. He lets it fall into your basket. "My favorite." He says simply, and turns to walk away from you. You just stand in place, amazed at his behavior. One second, he's licking and kissing you. The next, it's like nothing ever happened. You realize now you need to up your game. But not here, this round is definitely ending in a tie. Plus, it’s only a matter of time before either the twins or an employee catches you. And you can't have that.

You eventually make your way up to the checkout, meeting the others in line. You take a moment to see what everyone else picked as the items are placed on the conveyor belt. There's quite a variety, Twizzlers, Crunch Bars, New Coke, A&W, tortilla chips and salsa, Cheetos, the items you chose, and a few other similar choices. But at the very end, are Eddie's picks. A couple six-packs of beer, a carton of cigarettes, and condoms. Fucking condoms. This man is so confident you'll put out, he isn't even embarrassed to buy them in front of you. Cocky bastard.

You lean over to speak into his ear, pulling his locks aside. "If you think you're gonna lay me that easily, you've got another thing coming." And you slyly bite his earlobe, returning to your original position afterwards. He gasps, not expecting you to make such a bold move in front of the kids, or the cashier. Nobody seems to notice, but his cheeks burn with sudden shyness. You can't help giggling at his reaction. He's very cute when he does that. He breathes out heavily, composing himself.

"That'll be $32.45, sir." The cashier says once everything has been rung up. The twins make quick work of bagging everything up while Eddie pulls out his wallet. He gives the cashier two twenties, and clumsily shoves the change he receives into his pocket.

"Thanks, man." Eddie says, going to the end of the line to grab a couple of the bags. "Alright, let's go home, little demons!" He says to the boys, and they all walk out ahead of you while shoving each other around playfully. There's one bag left on the end, the one with Eddie's special items in it. You grab it, running after them to the van. Everyone gets settled in with all the goodies, and Eddie drives to your house.

Once you arrive, Eddie turns to the twins. "Hey guys, why don't you take the bags in for us, okay? We'll be there in a minute." He smiles at them, and they nod while grabbing all the bags besides the one you still had in your hands. They run to your front door like maniacs, and you see Dustin letting them inside after they ring the doorbell. You notice a couple bikes outside in the yard, the Sinclairs have already arrived. You look at Eddie, noticing him staring at you.

"What's up, Eds?" You ask.

"Nothin’, just...thinking." He replies with a suspicious grin. Eddie takes your hands in his, lifting them to his lips to kiss them.

"What about?" You can tell he's up to something.

"About how I'm gonna make you pay for that stunt you pulled at the checkout. It was brave, but it was also a big mistake. I was holding back before, Y/N. I can do so much worse than that." He chuckles darkly. Your eyes widen, you've really done it now. "Just you wait and see, princess. By the end of the night, you'll be begging me to fuck you." He gives you a shit-eating grin, and drops your hands. He gets out of the van without another word, leaving you dumbstruck. You struggle to gather your thoughts, but all you can think is how incredibly turned on you are.

Once you're able to think straight, you grab your belongings and run to the house. You push open the door to see everyone bustling around to set up the game. A couple folding tables from the attic are standing in your living room, and Eddie makes it his mission to put everything in its perfect place. Dustin and the Sinclairs are helping him, listening to his barked orders. James and Ian are in the kitchen, putting drinks in the refrigerator and dumping the snacks onto the counter. You take the beer from Eddie's bag to add to the fridge, and then stop in your room to put your schoolbag away. You decide to keep Eddie's other items in your room, out of sight from your nosy mother. You turn to leave, and you find Mom standing before you with her arms crossed.

"Are you okay, Y/N? You didn't come home after classes like you said. Wait, what are those?!" She points at your bandages, suddenly very worried.

"Mom, it's nothing. I was on the way to school and I tried to cross an intersection too late. Eddie ended up hitting me and I fell and scraped my hands and knees." You try to keep her calm, she always spirals any time you or Dustin get so much as a paper cut.

"He did what!? And you came back here with him? Why didn't you call me?" She frantically bombards you with questions.

"Mom, I promise it's okay. He stopped and helped me, he got the bandages for me and cleaned me up. It was my fault, I went in the road when I shouldn't have. And he feels really bad about it, so, please don't bring it up. My bike did get a bit damaged, but he took it to a shop to get fixed. And he's going to drive me until it's ready, okay? Just calm down." You barely stop to take a breath, doing everything you can to keep her from throwing Eddie out on his ass.

"You can't be careless like that, Y/N. You could've been seriously hurt, or even killed! And I can't lose you, sugarpuff." Mom has called you sugarpuff ever since you were five. You don't know where the name came from, but you always liked it. She has tears forming in her eyes, and she pulls you into a suffocating hug. "You and Dusty are all I have. If anything happened to you, I don't know what I'd do." You can't help but feel a bit guilty. You put your life at risk, and for what? To not be late to class one time? You hug her tight, letting her know you understand how she feels. You're her child, and you always will be.

"I'm sorry, Mom. Really, I didn't mean to make you upset. I won't be so careless again, okay? But I should go help with the campaign. I'm watching them play tonight." She lets you go when she hears that last part, looking at you oddly.

"Really? Hmm, interesting." She gives you a knowing look. Dammit, you are gonna murder Dustin for his loose lips. "Well, have fun, sugarpuff. And don't do anything I wouldn't do." You gasp, surprised that your own mother would be condoning you potentially being intimate with a certain someone who’s currently shouting about dice in the living room. She scoffs at you. "Don't be so prudish, Y/N. You're a grown woman, right? Go get 'em." She says with a laugh, going to her room to let you and the club be. She might pop out every so often for a snack or the bathroom, but she knows not to intrude when you or Dustin have company. She may be pushy sometimes, but she tries her hardest to give you space where it’s needed.

"Hey." You hear Eddie whisper from behind you, making you jump. You whip around to face him, his body very close to yours. "We're just about ready now. You wanna come sit next to me, princess?" He asks while leaning even closer to you. You wait to see what move he's going to make, watching his hand raise and aim for your chest. You start breathing heavily, anticipating his touch. He looks at you with eyes of fire, wetting his suddenly dry lips. You want him to touch you so badly, you wish he'd just do it already. You close your eyes, waiting expectantly. "Boop." You feel his finger on the tip of your nose, and your eyes snap open. Eddie fakes you out yet again, and you can't help the frustrated sigh that falls from your lips. "Aww, were you expecting something else? Seems like you'll break soon enough. Come on, it's game time." He's so smug about his effect on you, rubbing it in your face. He puts his hand out for you to take, and you do. The feeling of his warm skin on yours is electric.

You walk together down the hall, and into the living room. He leads you over to the head of the table, and you take the seat beside his. The others have already taken their places, and they notice you and Eddie holding hands. Once you're both seated, he lets your hand go, and you can't help quietly whining at the loss. He smirks at you, his moves on you working exactly as planned. Or so he thinks. You make a quick move to scoot your chair as close to him as possible. He raises a warning eyebrow at you, and you just smile at him innocently.

"Alright, everybody. Let's get this shit started." Eddie announces. "And for anyone out of the loop, the lovely Y/N will be sitting in tonight. And she might even be joining our little club." Everyone nods in approval, eager to get things moving. You watch Eddie closely as he starts the campaign, taking in how theatrical he is while he leads the story. His eyes shine bright, and his voice morphs into different characters. You can't help giggling when his voice goes high to play the women. You glance around the table, taking in how everyone plays so well together.

You do your best to pay attention to how everything works. Turns, skills, weapons, the dice, it’s a lot to take in. But it’s easy to see why everyone here enjoys playing so much. Outside of all the math and note-taking, it’s an adventure. And you can't wait to join the next one. Eddie looks over at you often during the game, though only for a moment. He's very passionate and focused when it comes to D&D. You glance at your watch, shocked to see three hours have already passed. You decide now is your time to make moves on him. The table blocks the view of your hands from the others, and you bring your right hand to Eddie's thigh. He stumbles over his words, his body tensing up under your touch. His eyes meet yours as he continues to speak, trying to keep the rest of the table oblivious to what you're doing.

Your hand slowly goes further, higher up his thigh. Eddie's heart begins to race, and he almost shouts his next sentence when you finally reach his crotch. His hand bangs on the table, causing the others to jump. "You alright there, Eddie?" Dustin asks. Everyone's eyes move to their dungeon master, watching him closely.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just uh...I think we all need a small break." He says while narrowing his eyes at you. Everyone voices agreement, and stands from the table. Dustin heads for the bathroom, and the others go to the kitchen for more snacks. You and Eddie are the only ones still seated, and your hand is still between his legs. You feel his dick hardening just beneath your fingers, and you decide to palm him through his jeans. He moans, gripping your wrist. Point: Y/N. "Christ, you're really asking for it, aren't you? I was gonna play nice for a bit longer. But now you've pushed this past the point of no return." He chuckles as he places his hand over yours, squeezing roughly. You look in his eyes with a sly smile on your face as you continue to grope him. His eyes bore into you with lust, the room igniting around the both of you.

"Do your worst, Munson. I can't imagine you can take much more of this. You talk a big game, but your cock tells me everything I need to know." You let him out of your grip, causing him to whine. He tries to stifle it, but you know you're very close to winning the whole thing. Sure, you're playing a little dirty. But he’s so sure he'll beat you, so smug about it. You can't stand to let him win.

After a few minutes, the others return to the table. Eddie proceeds with the adventure, giving his full attention to everyone except you. He isn't even glancing in your direction anymore, and it's driving you mad. You mentally beg him to look in your direction, but he doesn't answer your plea. This fucker is working his magic on you, making you desperate for anything he’s willing to give you. You try to hide your frustration, but your knee impulsively bobs up and down rapidly. Eddie only takes notice because his own knee is flush against yours. He finally gives you the attention you've been craving. A look that acknowledges your wanting, while also teasing you for it. He knows precisely how his methods are affecting you, putting his hand on your knee to make it stop bouncing. You hold back a moan, not wanting to give yourself away.

Eddie winks at you, and his own hand moves slowly up your leg. He stops at your thigh, holding his hand there. Your heart is pounding, and your panties are becoming increasingly wet the more he touches you. You're panting slightly, looking in his eyes to beg him for more. He gives you a subtle nod, while still directing the group in the campaign perfectly. Nobody notices what’s going on, because Eddie is more than capable of multitasking. He makes a point to show you just how well he can focus on two things at once. His hand migrates to the waistband of your jeans, undoing the button, and pulling the zipper down. Once your pants are open, he slips his hand inside. His eyes are not on you while he does this, he makes sure to distract everyone from what he's doing to you.

You gasp when Eddie strokes your clit over your panties, but you cover it with a cough. A few eyes move towards you, but you wave them away, blaming allergies. The attention once again returns to Eddie. His hand continues to stroke you over your underwear, he can feel the thin material moistening under his fingertip. Your skin starts to burn, your blood boiling in your veins. He goes under your panties now, running his fingers through your slick folds. You hold back your moans, biting your lip. You place an elbow on the table, holding your head in your palm to disguise your mouth with subtlety.

His fingers continue to stroke you, rubbing your clit in persistent circles. Your cunt is consistently dripping into your jeans, his touches tying a large knot in your belly. He manages to insert a finger into your pussy, which causes your knee to hit the underside of the table. Everyone looks at you, including Eddie. "Careful, Y/N. You already hurt your knee once today, take it easy." He smirks.

"Sorry, won't happen again. Continue." You struggle to get the words out. Your knee stings from your wound, but the pleasure Eddie continues to give you while acting like nothing is happening makes your head spin. His finger starts curling inside you, slow and steady to not make too much noise.

You're doing everything you can to keep control of your sounds and movements. You have to act natural, the game must go on unnoticed. Eddie adds a second finger, which makes you want to scream. You want to give in, to tackle him to the ground so you can have your way with him. You don't even care about everybody else in the room. You want to ride him, right here and right now. You feel the knot growing tighter and tighter, threatening to snap. Your walls flutter around Eddie's fingers. When he realizes you're just about to cum, he pulls away. Your high runs for the hills, leaving you unsatisfied. You groan loudly, scowling at Eddie.

"Are you alright, Y/N? You're acting weirder than usual." Erica asks.

"Erica! Don't be rude." Lucas scolds her.

"What? It's just the facts! She's been acting strange for hours. what gives?" Erica crosses her arms, waiting to hear an explanation.

Once again, everyone's eyes are on you. You blush madly, stuttering. "I'm一" You glance at Eddie, who offers no help, only a self-congratulatory grin. Damn him, damn him and this stupid bet. You quickly close your jeans as you come up with a reason to leave. "I just...don't feel well. All this junk food isn't agreeing with me. I'll stop interrupting you guys. Sorry. Goodnight." You bolt out of your chair and run to the safety of your bedroom. You slam the door behind you, your back leaning against it.

You start to cry, feeling so embarrassed. You're sure the kids bought your story, but it was so humiliating. To have Eddie touching you like that, with everyone in the room. Sure, you started it, but it wasn't like you had his dick out under the table. Not only that, he denied you in order to get a reaction, drawing attention to you over something so private. You decide to just stay in your room for the rest of the weekend, hiding from everybody. Especially Eddie.

A few hours pass, you're still in front of your door crying. You're on the floor now, and you hear everyone calling it a night. Dustin says goodnight to you through the door, hoping you feel better soon. He goes to his room, shutting the door. The others have taken the couch or have sleeping bags on the floor. Eddie usually sleeps in his van. You think it might be safe to go pee before bed, when you hear a light knocking on the door.

"Y/N, can I come in?" It's Eddie. Of course, he wanted to gloat, right? Shove it in your face that he got the best of you. "I just want to talk. Please?"

Part 1.3: I Think We’re Alone Now

"Please let me in?” He sounds genuinely worried. You sigh and wipe your eyes, standing up to open the door. You let him in, but turn away from him to slump onto your bed. You lay down, facing the wall. Eddie closes the door behind him, sitting on the end of the bed. "Are you alright, Y/N?" He asks quietly, looking down at his hands.

"What do you think?" You snip.

"I didn't mean to upset you, princess. I一" He touches your ankle, but you tug it away.

"Don't call me that! You embarrassed me in front of the Sinclairs, the Tanners, my own brother! Was winning really worth making a fool out of me?" You say through gritted teeth.

"Y/N, I promise that wasn't my intention. What I did was stupid, and wrong. I just...I got caught up in the game. I went too far, and I'm sorry." You hear the remorse in his voice, he didn't want to hurt you. It was quite the opposite, he wanted to have fun and make you feel good. "If you want me to, I can leave right now. I’ll pick the twins up in the morning, postpone the campaign until we can host it somewhere else. I’ll even twist the arm of the repair guy to fix your bike tomorrow so you don't have to see me again."

You take his efforts to do right by you into consideration. He'd go to all that trouble to make you comfortable, regardless of how he feels about you. He clearly cares about you, he just got carried away. Your heart swells at his gesture. You just can't stay mad at him no matter how hard you try. You groan in defeat, sitting up and scooting to the end of the bed to face him. "No, you don't have to go. But let's make it a rule to not finger me in front of other people like that, okay? And you're on thin ice, metalhead."

"You got it. Cross my heart and hope to die." He says, making an 'X' on his chest with his finger. He gazes at you, a hint of mischief in his eyes. "So, everyone else is asleep. You wanna have a beer and a smoke outside with me?" He asks, holding his hand out to you.

"I thought you'd never ask, Munson." You smile, taking his hand. You open the door as quietly as possible, trying your best to not make any noise. Eddie follows close behind you, still holding your hand. You stop in the kitchen to grab a six-pack of beer from the fridge, then you tiptoe your way around everyone's sleeping bags. You finally reach the front door, not bothering to put on shoes. You turn the knob, trying to keep the door from squeaking on its hinges. You both slip out into the night, the cool night air tickling your skin. Eddie left his jackets inside, so you both shiver slightly.

Eddie plops down in the dewy grass of your front lawn, patting the spot next to him for you to sit. "Come here, princess." You do as he asks, sitting cross-legged like him. Your knee touches his as you sit closely to him. You set down the beers, and Eddie grabs one out of the pack. He pulls out a bottle-opener, popping off the top. He hands it to you "Ladies first." He winks at you, pulling out another bottle for himself. You chug half of it down instantly, burping loudly after you swallow. "Hmm, maybe not then." Eddie quips, taking a swig from his own beer.

"Sorry, I was just really thirsty." You blush, giggling at your own rudeness. Eddie laughs too, pulling out his cigarettes. He takes two out of the box, holding one up to your lips. You take it in your mouth, and he lights it, looking deep into your eyes. The flame casts a yellow glow on his face, highlighting his beautiful features. He moves the lighter away from you to light his own cigarette. You inhale from yours deeply, laying down in the grass before you exhale. You stare up at the night sky, taking in the shining stars and full moon. There aren't any clouds tonight, so everything is crystal clear. He copies you, putting his shoulder against yours.

"Damn, what a view!" Eddie exclaims, gesturing at the sky dramatically with his hands. You both smoke silently for a bit, your hands lacing together without realizing it. When you've reached the end of your cigarette, you swipe it roughly onto the ground to put it out before flicking it away. Eddie does the same before speaking again. "You know what a better view than this is, though?" He asks, glancing at you.

"Nope. But you can tell me if you like." You tease him, letting his hand go so you can lay on your side. You rest your head on your left arm, your right going to Eddie's chest. He sighs softly as your fingers lazily stroke him over his shirt.

"It's you, Y/N. You're more beautiful than all the stars, all the planets. All the galaxies in the universe couldn't compare to you." He says with sincerity. He turns his head to look at you, his face carrying a soft expression.

"You are being so cheesy right now." You scoff in disbelief. His smile drops a little, looking sad. "No, I like it, a lot. It's just a different side of you I didn't expect."

"I think you'll find I'm just full of surprises, Y/N." He mirrors your position, a small smile forming on his lips. You move your body closer to his, pressing yourself flush against him. Your hand cups his cheek, and you're not feeling the cold air anymore. The atmosphere has been set ablaze, the both of you breathing heavily. It's like you're running low on oxygen.

Your lips are just a whisper away from his, and you can't stop staring at them. They look so soft and plush, and you're reminded of your late-night thoughts about how they might taste. You close the gap, pushing your mouth onto his gently. You both moan at the contact, and you bite his bottom lip. He gasps, allowing your tongue access to tangle with his. You moan again when you confirm your fantasies of him. He does taste like tobacco, and beer. But there's an underlying flavor of chocolate, the Hershey bar he plopped into your handbasket at the store.

Your hands tangle into Eddie's hair, tugging it roughly. He groans, flipping you both over so you're straddling him. His hands hug the curves of your ass, and he squeezes the flesh under his fingers through your jeans. You moan into his mouth, grinding your hips down onto him. You feel his dick hardening beneath you, positioned right under your cunt. You're getting soaked again, which drives you to keep moving on him. It feels so good, but you want more. "Eddie, someone might see us out here and call the cops. Let's go back to my room, okay?" You whisper as you release his lips from yours.

"Sure thing, baby. To be continued." He jokes. You giggle playfully and move off of him. You gather the open beers back into the pack, and you hold out a hand to help Eddie off the ground. He takes it, standing up next to you. He pulls you back to him by the waist, smashing his lips on yours hungrily. It ends as soon as it starts though, leaving you breathless. Eddie leads you inside with his arm around your waist. You sneak back into the house, following the same route you took to leave.

You stumble backwards into your room, pulling Eddie by his shirt. He kicks the door shut behind him, luckily it doesn't slam too hard. You set the beers down on your dresser, and then you're being pushed down onto your bed by him. You fall back onto the pillows, bouncing slightly when you make contact. He climbs on top of you, his knees on either side of yours. You gaze up at him from your pillow, his long locks hanging down around his face. He stares back at you, smirking as always. He slowly lowers his lips onto yours once more, languid and passionate this time. You moan as his hand gropes your tits over your shirt. You grip his hair again as he kisses you, tugging even harder this time. He groans louder than before, breaking away.

"Careful, babydoll. Don't push my buttons too much, or who knows what I'll do." He says darkly. His mouth moves to your neck, where he licks you the same as he did to you earlier today.

"God, Eddie. You're so fucking hot." You exhale lustfully, throwing your head back as he marks hickies on you.

"You're not so bad yourself, Y/N." He sits on his knees to remove his shirt. As he pulls it over his head, you can't help staring at his body. He's slim, but a little bit toned. And his tattoos suit him so well. You bite your lip as you do your best to memorize him for your future late-night thoughts. "You like what you see?" He tilts his head at you. You just nod, wide-eyed. You take off your t-shirt and your bra, exposing your breasts to him. His breath catches in his throat when he gets a good look at you. "Fuck, you're gorgeous." He murmurs, staring at you in awe.

"C’mere." You plead, pulling him down to you by his belt buckle. Your hands roam Eddie's back, scratching your nails into his skin. He moans as he begins to kiss your chest. His mouth leaves a trail of hickies all over your tits. You whimper as he makes each one, gasping when he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. "Eddie…" You moan, and he stops sucking on your tit, peering down at you.

"You make such pretty noises, Y/N." He says with a grin before returning to his task. He moves on to your other breast, gently biting down on your sensitive bud.

"Jesus, fuck." You can't help all the moans and curses that fall from your mouth, everything he does feels like magic. Your sounds feed Eddie's fire, making his cock twitch in his jeans.

"You're such a good little slut for me. Reacting to every touch I give you." He purrs at you as his mouth travels further down your body. You moan at his words, so filthy and arousing at the same time. "You like when I call you that, princess?" He asks, noting your eyes blown wide with desire.

"Yes." You manage to choke out a reply as his lips leave a trail of kisses down your torso until he reaches your jeans. Everything he does is unbearably sexy, it stirs a primal fire inside you. No other man has come close to making you feel so simultaneously in and out of control. You want him to ruin you, to do anything and everything he wants to you.

"Good girl." He replies, his hands undoing your jeans for the second time tonight. He pulls them off your legs, tossing them aside. His hands spread your legs for him, and a grin forms across his mouth when he sees the dark spot on your panties. "So wet for me already?" His hand strokes you over the thin fabric, and your hips buck off the bed impulsively as you moan. Eddie holds you down with his other hand. "Relax, sweetheart. Let me make you feel good." He slips your panties off slowly, and takes a long look at your drenched pussy. "Fuck, you're so beautiful, Y/N." His eyes meet yours, finding you panting as you await his next move. His fingers feel your slick folds, brushing over your clit. You moan loudly, forming fists as you grip the blanket beneath you. He keeps eye contact with you as he inserts a finger into your dripping cunt. Your mouth falls open, but barely any sound comes out. He starts pumping in and out of you, curling just so to hit your sweetspot with ease.

"Oh, Eddie…go faster, please..." You can't help sounding needy as you whine for him to do more. You feel a familiar knot building inside of you, winding tighter with every stroke of Eddie's finger inside of you.

"Anything you want, angel." He does as you ask, causing more moans and calls of his name to spill from you. He adds another finger, and you arch your back. Your body is slowly sheened in sweat, and Eddie keeps praising you. "You're doing so well, princess. Such a good girl for me." He removes his fingers, and you whine at the loss. But he quickly starts licking your clit with his tongue. He paints your cunt with long stripes, occasionally inserting his tongue into your entrance. He moans at how sweet you taste, vibrations roaming through your center. "You taste so good, babe." He continues to flick his tongue on you, expertly moving you closer to the edge.

"Oh, shit. I'm so close, make me cum. Please." Waves of pleasure are crashing over you, your whole body is fizzing. The knot inside you wants so badly to snap, to release the built up pressure you've been feeling all day.

"That's a good little slut, cum for me." He says before sucking your clit into his mouth. It feels unbelievable, and you finally sense yourself letting go.

"Fuck, Eddie!" You cry out, almost screaming. Your orgasm rips through you, radiating from your pussy to all of your extremities. Your head feels light, and stars fill your vision. Your legs shake uncontrollably, but Eddie holds you in place. His mouth continues to work against your cunt as your high subsides. Your clit is sparking, and his mouth on you is overstimulating. "Eds, that's enough. Please, it's too much." You pant as you push his head away.

"Sorry, angel. I'll let you cool down." He coos, caressing your legs lovingly. He stands, still shirtless, and goes to the dresser to grab the opened beer. He hands you your bottle, and you sit up to sip on it. The liquid cools you from the inside out, calming the burning flames. Eddie sits at the edge of the bed, his back turned to you as he drinks. You crawl across the bed to sit beside him, putting your free hand on his thigh. He tenses slightly, not expecting your touch. "Hey there, beautiful." He says while smiling at you, looking you up and down. You're still naked, but you don't feel exposed. Eddie’s presence makes you comfortable, you could do anything around him and not feel nervous about it.

"Hey." You reply simply. You finish off your beer, setting the empty bottle on the carpet. Eddie's still holding his while you turn yourself toward him. You lean forward, moving his long hair away from his neck. You kneel to plant a few open-mouthed kisses on his throat. He tilts his head to give you better access, moaning whenever you put your lips on him. Your right hand travels down his chest, caressing his warm skin on the way to his crotch. You ghost over his erection, his breath hitching. You palm him through his jeans, his cock growing harder as you grope him.

"Shit, Y/N." He groans out, his head falling back slightly. You slide off the bed, positioning yourself on your knees between Eddie's legs. You continue to stroke him, kissing his chest and stomach repeatedly. He moans over and over as you touch him, cursing and saying your name, calling you a good girl. He's become putty in your hands.

"You make pretty noises too. It's very sexy." You whisper in his ear, reaching for his belt. You unbuckle it, and pull his jeans off. He's only in his boxers now, his erection forming a tent in the thin cloth. You run your tongue up his length over the fabric, and he moans loudly.

"Jesus." His hands grip the edge of the mattress, the knuckles turning white. You smile at him seductively, reaching for his waistband. You yank off his underwear, and waste no time taking hold of his cock. You take all of him in your mouth, gagging as he hits the back of your throat. His hips buck into your face from the feeling of your wet mouth on him. Your eyes start to water as you bob your head up and down on him. You swirl your tongue around his length as you work, and Eddie can't stop groaning. Every sound makes your pussy wetter, him calling out your name is music to your ears. "Keep going, baby. You're a fuckin’ goddess at giving head." He chuckles slightly, throwing his head back. A couple drips of sweat run down his face, his eyes screwed shut as he focuses on how hot and wet your mouth is. He's panting like a dog, feeling himself growing closer to the edge.

His balls tighten in your hand as you massage them. He's very close, you take this as a sign to go even deeper and faster. You gag repeatedly on him, moving your lips and tongue at a punishing pace. Tears run down your cheeks, blurring your vision. You stop only for a moment to encourage him. "That's it. Be a good boy and cum for me." You plunge your mouth as far as it can go onto his dick, pulling out every move in your playbook, sealing his fate.

"Fuck, gonna cum..." He chokes out as his high overtakes him. He moans so loud, you're worried he'll wake everybody up. His mouth is open wide, and he falls backwards onto the bed as his load shoots down your throat. You swallow every last drop, it tastes so fucking good. He's practically gasping for air, his arms laying above his head. You release him with a pop, and take in the sight before you. Eddie's so pretty like this, laying on your bed with his cock out, shiny with sweat. His hair matted to his face from the moisture, his chest rising and falling rapidly. A wave of lust washes over you to see the effect you've had on him.

He takes a moment to compose himself before sitting up. He's still panting a little, but he looks at you with a deep hunger in his eyes. "C’mere, princess." He motions for you to sit on his lap. You do so, straddling him on the edge of the bed. His dick rests against your stomach, already getting hard again. He wraps his arms around your waist, and yours rest around his neck. You kiss him again, and he reciprocates. Your mouths move together in sync, and you feel something different between you now. This moment isn't just about sex, you think you really like Eddie. You might even be falling in love with him. And given the way he's keeping up with you, maybe he’s falling in love with you ,too.

Despite all these strong emotions brewing between the two of you, you still want Eddie to take you in every way possible. "Eddie?" You ask, breaking the kiss. Your lips feel bruised, and you gaze deep into his eyes.

"Yes, sweetheart?" He says quietly, meeting your eyes. He's genuinely interested in what you have to say.

"I want you." You whisper, somehow shy about admitting this to him.

"I want you too, Y/N. So much, you have no idea." He replies softly, and his hand cups your cheek. You move yourself closer to him, rubbing his dick between your folds. You moan in unison at the sensation, the air lighting on fire once again. Eddie grabs your ass, leading your hips to continue moving against him. The friction is like pure electricity, shooting currents of ecstasy through your bodies. "Can I fuck you, Y/N?" Eddie asks, a pleading look in his eyes. He's so needy for you.

"Yes, Eddie. Please, take me any way you want." You practically beg him.

He grasps his cock, teasing your entrance a few more times, spreading your arousal. He stops for a moment. "Wait, let me get a condom." He says, tapping your thigh to get off of him. You shake your head, and he looks at you, confused.

"I'm on the pill, Eds. We can still use one if you want, but I trust you."

"That's fine by me. If you're good to go, then so am I." He kisses you deeply, getting himself ready to enter you. You instinctively lift yourself up so he can position himself, and you slowly sink down onto his dick. He fills you to the brim, the perfect size to knock the air from your lungs as you take all of him. You need a moment to adjust, flexing your walls to teasingly clamp around him. "Shit. Do that again." Eddie whimpers, and you grip his cock with your insides. "Jesus, that's fucking hot." He says breathily. You start to move on him, bouncing up and down at a steady pace. The room fills with the sounds of moans and slapping skin. You aren't putting much effort into being quiet, everything feels too good for you to care about anyone hearing you. Eddie's fingers are digging into your ass cheeks, holding your flesh for dear life. His lips attack your tits as best he can as you continue to ride him. Your head is thrown backward in pure bliss as your climax builds, your hands holding his shoulders tightly. The pleasure bubbles in your belly, growing stronger every time you come down on Eddie's cock. He hits your g-spot perfectly, like he was made for you.

"Fuck, Eddie. I'm getting close again. You feel so good inside me." Every move and every touch makes your head spin, it's getting harder to form coherent thoughts.

"I'm close too, baby. Keep going, be a good little slut. Make a mess all over me." He says, a bit muffled as his face is still buried in your tits. His words spur you on, and you ride him even faster, rolling your hips to hit your spot even better. He assists you, meeting your bounces with his own thrusts up into you. You moan loudly every time he pitches his hips upwards. He's chasing your high, wanting to feel you come undone. "C’mon, angel. Cum on my dick like a good girl." His words make your orgasm explode inside of you. Fireworks go off under your skin. Waves of pleasure crash over you, taking you under.

"Oh god, fuck!" You almost scream, curses and exclamations flowing from you incoherently. Your walls clamp down, milking Eddie's cock. He groans, his own orgasm overtaking him. He calls out your name, bucking his hips uncontrollably into your cunt. His movements prolong your high, a burst of juices leaking out of you. He feels the fluid rush over his dick, spilling out onto the floor and the bed. It makes him groan, the sensation is nothing he's ever felt before. He’s already thinking of how many other ways he can make you cum like this in the future. Your legs shake violently, and you hold yourself against Eddie as hard as you can to keep from falling. You can't stop shaking for a good while as the strongest orgasm of your life takes what seems like forever to subside.

You eventually collapse against his chest, gulping in air like a fish out of water. Eddie's arms wrap around you, a hand stroking your damp hair. "You okay, Y/N?" He sounds concerned, he's never seen a girl cum so hard before. He's worried that he may have hurt you.

"I'm good, Eds. Really good.” You giggle in satisfaction. “That has to be the best orgasm I've ever had. I didn't even know I could do that. It wasn't weird, was it?" You ask, referring to you squirting on him. You’re a bit nervous that you’ve grossed him out.

"What? Fuck no! That was one of the hottest things I've ever seen. I've heard about women being able to do that, but I’ve never experienced it before.” He explains excitedly, glad to have made this discovery about you. “You are something special. In more ways than just that, Y/N."

"I'll have you know I'm just full of surprises, baby." You give him a quick kiss, smiling like a dope. You realize his dick is still inside you, so you carefully pull yourself off of him. Your mixed release drips out of you and onto his length, you both stare at the sight and moan quietly. You don't want to risk being caught naked in the hall to retrieve a towel, so you drop to your knees in front of Eddie. You lick up every last drop of your cum, causing him to shudder as he stares at you in shock.

"Goddamn, can you get any sexier, Y/N?" His eyes are wide, jaw on the floor as he watches you swallow every last drop.

"You'll just have to wait and find out next time, won't you?" You smirk at him, standing up.

"Next time, huh?" He quirks an eyebrow at you. You realize what you’ve implied, blushing harshly. Eddie rolls his eyes. "Relax, sweetheart. Of course I want to do this again, among other things. It's a date!" He beams at you, and your expression softens. You fail to hold back a yawn, and Eddie follows suit. "It’s gettin’ pretty late. Should we go to bed?" He asks, slipping his boxers back on. He grabs his Hellfire shirt, tossing it to you along with your panties.

"You want me to wear your shirt?" You're surprised he'd offer you something so personal. But you can't help falling for him just a little bit more because of it.

"Of course! Gotta let everyone know you're mine, right?" He bites his lip, nervous about suggesting that you belong to him. Did I overstep and ruin everything?, he wonders when you don’t respond right away.

"Yours, huh? So that makes you mine then, correct?" You can't help teasing him a little, seeing his face burn red is so endearing.

"Yeah. Uh, i-if you want." He stutters over his words, looking down at his hands. He fidgets with his rings, twisting them around his fingers. His knee bounces, signaling his anxiety. You reach down, stilling his leg. You put your hand over his, and use the other to lift his chin up to you with your finger. You stare deep into his eyes, trying to show him how you want this just as much as he does.

"There's no need to be nervous, Eds. I'll happily be yours, I really like you. I might even be falling for you." You kiss him gently on the lips, but only for a moment. "Now, let’s get some rest. Got a big day tomorrow." You give him a caring look, and he kindly returns it, nodding. You put his shirt on over your head, and he smiles wide when he sees you in it. It's a bit big on you, almost long enough to be a dress. But you would look beautiful to him no matter what. You walk over to the bed, pulling up the covers to slip underneath them. Eddie crawls over to join you.

Once you're both under the blanket, Eddie pulls you close to him, spooning you. He peppers light kisses onto the back of your neck, whispering sweet nothings to you. When he notices your breathing going steady in preparation for sleep, he stops kissing you. "Goodnight, princess. Sleep well." He says before closing his eyes.

"Goodnight, Eds." You reply, falling into a deep, dreamless slumber.

To be continued…

#fanfiction #smut #eddie munson #stranger things #hawkins #1980s #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x henderson!reader #into the fire #hippiegoth97

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aroace-poly-show · 3 months ago

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hello friends we are starting this kind of early cause i have. a lot of mutuals. so. taking in requests now for the

marlo mutual christmas/winter gift doodles

putting this above the read more so people see it: ‼️‼️you do not need to celebrate christmas for this!! if you’re one of my mutuals that doesn’t celebrate christmas but you still want one you are still included ‼️‼️and if you really don’t want one then just like the post without commenting please ‼️‼️ otherwise i might assume you just haven’t seen the post and dm you to be sure aifbksnfnd (or let me know directly. comment or dm or ask or whatever you want. i just need to know that you’ve seen it and don’t want one)

i did this last year. really simple concept. you give me a few characters you like and i will draw a silly little doodle for you and send you an ask (or dm or tag you in a post with if i can’t send it in an ask for whatever reason) on christmas day!! i will have this post queued to go up multiple times a day so hopefully people don’t miss it sorry if it gets annoying fast LMAO

some answers to potential questions and clarifications here:

-you are not required to give me a doodle in return, you can if you want but you do not have to!! there is no pressure to!!! if you do want to make a return gift though then characters i like i’ll list them at the bottom

-begging you. if we’re mutuals and you want one pleaseeeee respond in the comments. it keeps things all in one place for me, and if i am not sure whether you want one or not i will just ask you directly and i get Anxious so if you want to save yourself the trouble of me bothering you in dms for it pleaseeee don’t feel like you’re not included in this, and just comment on the post

-id appreciate like. a handful of characters you’d be happy to receive a doodle of and not just One, since i might have trouble drawing some and i don’t wanna send you a really shitty doodle or stress myself out trying to get it right in time fjnskdnsk

-they do not have to be characters i know about!! literally any you like!!

-i’m doing this really early so i can give myself enough time for it but if you change your mind on the characters before just let me know!!

ummm. if i need to add more i will. but i think that’s it for now!! praying i’ll actually be able to go through with this i am so sorry if i end up having to give stuff out late 💔💔

anyway if you really do want to give me one in return. i think i’m pretty obvious about who i like and you’re free to do others i didn’t mention here that you know i like too, but here’s a few jic anyone wants a list: anyone from wonderlands x showtime, mafuyu asahina, basil from omori, vflower, siffrin, loop, mirabelle

#mono’s stuff #christmas doodles

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a-whisper-in-the-forest · 4 months ago

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Oh my goodness, I just read Coffee and Tips and IT’S SO GOOD! I love the civilian’s and villain’s dynamic and like villain said “now that I got a taste and want more.”

So I was wondering and hoping, could you please continue it? I understand if you were intending it to be a fun one off story, are too busy or can’t.

It’s alright either way and I know when it’s hard to continue something you write and feel like there’s nothing more to add. So no pressure. Thanks regardless, it’s absolutely wonderful and I love your writing style! Please take care and I hope you have the most wonderful day and everyday beyond that! 💖✨

Hi! That's so nice! I hope you have a wondeful day too and everyday beyond that haha. Anyway, here it is! There's a bit of fighting, so not that sweet (unless you think protective villains are sweet). I hope you like it. Enjoy!

Part 1 (coffees and tips)

Somebody I care about

Civilian looks at the clock. Only one hour before their shift ends. They sigh as they wipe down the already clean counter. There weren't a lot of customers today, they are probably all scheming in their lair. It has been their most boring shift in a while.

Just as Civilian puts away some clean mugs, a customer walks in. “Good morning! Can I get you anything?” they say as a record on a loop. As they turn around though, their heart makes a little jump.

“Villain! I didn't know you were coming today,” Civilian smiles. “I didn’t have anything else to do today and my henchmen are horrible at making coffees,” Villain says, also smiling widely. “It’s a nice day, right? The sun has been shining all day.” Civilian lets out a sigh. “I’ve been here the whole day. I haven’t had the chance yet to enjoy the weather.” Villain takes a few steps closer to the counter. “I’m sorry to hear that, you should come sit outside with me.”

Civilian really wants to go sit outside with them. Villain has visited the café a few times now and they always enjoyed their conversations. They can rant about their problems and tell them about their life and Villain would always listen very carefully. Then, after buying themselves and Civilian a coffee, they would leave an outrageously large tip (not that they were complaining) and leave. Civilian doesn’t know why villain does this, but it is so relieving being able to tell somebody everything they were worried about. They could really use a talk like that right now.

Right as Civilian wants to agree with Villain’s proposal, another person bursts through the door. “There you are! I swear Villain, if you don’t give back Sidekick right now!” Superhero’s voice booms across the little café. Now it was Villain’s turn to sigh. “They really don’t understand the concept of free will, do they?” Villain asks themselves more than anyone else in the room.

“Hand them over!” Superhero yells. Villain lets out an annoyed groan and turns around. “You morons really are too thick to understand what I’m saying, huh?” Superhero lets out an offended scoff. “Morons?! How dare you call us that, you lowlife thief!”

They get closer to Villain and start getting in their face, which, given Superhero’s height, looks ridiculous. Villain towers over Superhero, not only by physical height but also by demeanour. “I’m only going to say it one more time. Sidekick. wanted. to. change. sides.” Villain starts slowly. “They are not going to and don’t want to come back to you.”

“Lair.” Superhero hisses. “Are you serious? I wouldn’t want to go back either if my boss acts like this.” Civilian only realises that they said that out loud after it was said. Superhero’s gaze snaps to Civilian. If looks could kill, they would drop dead right that instant. “I don’t need your opinion, rat. Be a good peasant and keep your mouth shut.”

Civilian saw something in Villain shift. “I think it’s time for you to leave,” Villain says in a tone that sent shivers down Civilian’s spine. “I don’t think the same thing. Who are you to-” That’s all Superhero could say before crashing into a wall. Villain slowly walks towards the coughing hero. In a ice cold tone that would scare the toughest person on earth, Villain talks slowly. “I don’t want to see your face ever again. You run back to your agency and tell them to never expect Sidekick back.” Superhero is still trying to catch their breath. After a few minutes they manage to speak. “But-” Villain kicks the kneeling Superhero down and puts their foot on their neck. “I don’t want to hear it. You’re lucky someone I care about is in the room. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have been so kind.”

Villain lets the hero go and steps back. The Superhero runs out and doesn’t dare to look back. Civilian comes around the corner of the bar. They can’t help but repeat the words in their head.

‘Somebody I care about’

It makes their heart jump and their stomach is feeling funny. “Sorry about that,” Villain starts, “Just tell Boss I will pay for the damages.” Civilian nods. They are thankful it won’t be taken out of their paycheck. “I think it’s better that I leave,” Villain says as they push a heap of cash into Civilian’s hands. “For the trouble.”

Before Civilian can ask about anything, Villain is out the door. Even though villain isn’t there anymore, there are still butterflies flying in their stomach.

#hero x villain #heroes and villains #snippet #villain x hero #my writing #writing #ask #villain x civilian #writing series #writing snippet #protective villain

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fayes-fics · 8 months ago

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When The World Is Free: Chapter 14 - Un Coin Tout Bleu

MASTERPOST PREV | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: None really... angst, make-ups, misunderstandings, confessions and a proposal.

Word Count: 1.9k

Author’s Note: Multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl. Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. This is the penultimate chapter, so everyone is starting to make peace. There is one more chapter that will have explicit content and an epilogue to go. Thanks as always to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy!

Aubrey Hall, UK, October 1939

Instinct has you up on your feet and chasing after, rounding into each room you pass, but you cannot find either of them. Your stride is definitely no match for Benedict’s; he is likely already far away.

When you stumble up the stairs, you collide with Violet. She is taken aback at first but then sees your apparent distress and has you in a hug before you know what is happening.

“Whatever is it, my dear?” she soothes into your hair.

“Eloise found Benedict and I asleep in an embrace and ran away in horror,” you stutter. “And then I let slip to Benedict you think he loves me, and then he ran. Oh god!! I have messed things up so horribly,” you lament.

Her motherly concern has you clinging to her, the sting of your mother’s recent rejection still a whiplash to your heart.

“Let us find my wilful daughter; she is likely just in shock, that is all.” she counsels calmly. “And then we will deal with your errant husband.”

Looping your arm with hers, Violet leads you to a few places where she knows Elose skulks when she wants to escape the world. You both eventually find her in the attic, where stacks of books and pillows are near an oval window that suggests this is often a refuge for her.

“Eloise Bridgerton, come and make amends with your friend,” is her stern greeting.

“Why should I?” Eloise sniffs, steadfastly refusing to turn around, staring out the small window at the grounds below. “She did the one thing - the ONE THING - I told her would make me disown her….” she adds bitterly, referencing the chat you had in Paris many weeks ago before Benedict arrived. “This was a choice she made.”

“Falling in love with your brother was not a choice, Eloise; it happened quite without me meaning to,” you implore, wanting her to believe it's true.

At that, her head whips around, surprise claiming her face. “Love?” she scoffs. “Please…” Looking to her mother for support in her derision, she frowns when she seems to find none. “Are you serious?”

“Yes…” you reply softly, taking a hesitant step forward, holding your palms open at your side—a conciliatory gesture. “I married Benedict to escape, yes, but even before then, I knew I felt something for him. That connection has only grown more profound since. We have spent a lot of time together in secret. I am truly sorry I, well, we, kept it from you. I was scared you would be angry and hurt. And you are. And you have every right to be.”

“It's true, Eloise,” Violet, standing a few paces behind you, pipes up. “I saw it the minute they arrived here. And I can tell you right now, your brother feels exactly the same.”

You want to believe Violet’s assertion about that, but you feel a tightness in your chest as she says it, worrying that it may not be accurate.

“You are my friend,” she whines almost petulantly.

“And I will always be your friend if you allow me,” you counter delicately. “No matter what happens with Benedict, and even I do not know now, you will always be dear to me and a part of my life.”

“What did that bloody idiot do now?” she inquires, sharp as a tack.

“After you left the room, I-I mentioned your mother thinks he loves me, and well, he ran out, you admit, hanging your head.

“That idiot…” she blusters, rolling her eyes.

“I'm very sorry if you see this as a betrayal. I wanted to keep it quiet because I love you so much as a friend. I truly never want or meant to hurt you….”

Eloise sighs, and you watch her shoulders slump. “You are just lucky I know some semblance of what you speak…” she offers wistfully, a glimmer of hope that has you inhaling sharply.

You know without asking that she is referring to Phillip, and you twist to smile at Violet briefly, who suddenly looks very invested.

“I hope you can find it within your heart to forgive me. I know it may take some time,” you allow. Hope creeps into the edges of your heart that you can reconcile with one Bridgerton, at least.

“It is just a shock that you kept it from me,” she sighs, finally admitting what upset her the most.

“I thought us terrible actors,” you giggle lightly, hoping humour will brighten your exchange.

A soft smile teases at the corner of her lips. “Are you suggesting I am not as sharp as I could be?” she jests gently.

“Heaven forfend!” you clutch your chest, feigning shock, then morphing into a smile you hope is an olive branch.

“I think perhaps you saw what you wanted or rather didn't want to see, daughter dearest,” Violet interjects mildly. “Because I can confirm they are both utterly terrible actors,” she chuckles.

You bite your lip and hang your head in an act of contrition that seems to amuse Eloise greatly. Her hesitant huff of humour is the best noise you could possibly hear.

“Friends?” you query tentatively, hopeful.

“Friends,” she pouts, crossing her arms. “But there is still much to make up…” she adds.

“Understood.”

With this fragile peace brokered, Violet links her arm in Eloise’s and yours, leading you both back down into the house with a declaration that tea, the ultimate British elixir, is needed.

—

Ten minutes later, you are gathered in the small glass conservatory, partaking in said refreshments. Other Bridgerton children—Colin, Francesa, and Gregory—likely drawn by the biscuit smell have also materialised. The gathering is a peaceful balm to a dramatic day. A large part of you still aches that Benedict fled, but you try to force it from your mind and concentrate on the fact that Eloise may be willing to forgive… with time.

Just as you stand to refill your teacup, however, the calm is shattered. Benedict charges into the room, flustered and breathless. He drops an envelope he is holding onto a side table and marches right up to you, stride purpose-filled, completely ignoring the rest of his family.

“There you are! I have been looking all over for you!” Relief palpable in his tone but still agitated and animated, grabbing your forearms. “Where on earth did you go?”

You splutter indignantly. “Where did I go?! Me? I think the more pertinent question is… where did you go?! You ran out of the room so fast!”

“I asked you to wait a moment,” he frowns.

“No, you didn't!” you state forthrightly.

He seems to falter, relinquishing his grip on your arms. “I… I didn't?”

“No…”

A look of doubt, then confusion, then finally understanding ripples over his face. “Oh…So you thought I… Oh…”

“Yes,” you reply quietly so the others gathered, who seem very invested now in your exchange, cannot hear. “I thought you walked out because of what I divulged.” Not wanting to go into detail with an audience.

“No! No!” he asserts candidly. “Nothing could be further from the truth!” His eyes soften as he realises what happened, looking genuinely contrite. “I am so sorry. I must’ve forgotten to say it out loud in my excitement.”

“Excitement!?” you are baffled. “You looked terrified!”

He grabs your hands this time, holding them in his, a look of earnest sincerity claiming his handsome features. “Yes, I was nervous and shocked that my mother knew and told you,” briefly glancing towards her over your shoulder. “But it spurred me to finally be brave enough to show you something. Something very important that I need your opinion on”

He lets go of your hands to grab the envelope from the table. With a nervous mien, he opens it and hands you a pile of photos. They are of an idyllic-looking country home surrounded by a pretty garden and countryside beyond. It looks so beautiful and instantly captures your imagination. For some strange reason, it already feels familiar to you.

“What do you think?” Benedict seems super nervous, shuffling his weight between his feet, apparently anxious for your answer.

“It's very pretty,” you opine neutrally, primarily confused. “I'm not sure why you are showing me, though?”

“I… I wanted to know if it was somewhere you could see yourself living?” he asks enigmatically with a small smile.

“Why?” you frown, unwilling to confess the truth - that you would live there in a heartbeat. It looks like the house you dreamed you would live in one day.

He takes a deep breath, seeming to steel himself. “Because… I would like to buy it. For you. Well, for us.”

There is no other word for it - you are floored. A loud buzzing sound is behind your ears, your knees feel oddly weak, and there is a tingle in your fingertips.

“For us?” you stutter, disbelieving.

You could hear a pin drop in the room. You can’t see them, but you know his family behind you likely have gaping mouths, especially Eloise.

“Yes, to live in. Together,” Benedict answers, that crooked smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “And if you are willing to live with me, well, then I also have another question for you…”

Your lungs feel afire, and your brain is short-circuiting—almost unable to surmount the shock. Entirely confounded as your heart pounds hard in your ribcage.

“A-A-And if I am, what is your other question?” you ask breathlessly.

You gasp as he falls to one knee before you, and you hear a collective ripple of shock behind you as he produces a little velvet box from his pocket.

“I wanted you to wait so I could also go and get this,” he explains, a slight shake in his hand as he holds it open—an engagement ring with sapphires and diamonds nestled within.

You can feel your eyes welling with tears as you gaze down upon him.

“Realising my mother knew the truth and accepted it was a wake-up call for me. I had to finally be brave and confess to you. We are already married, so some may think this pointless, but it is nothing less than you deserve: a proper, heartfelt, honest proposal.”

His free hand reaches and grabs yours, lacing your fingers together. It feels like the anchor you need to stay upright.

“Given the short time, it may seem reckless to others, but I do not care what anyone thinks but you. I know what my heart tells me, indeed, has told me from the moment we met—you are my home, my refuge, my present and my future. Y/n, I love you more than I ever thought possible. I would marry you a hundred times over, in whatever way you would have me. Please, please, will you be my wife?”

A sob escapes your lungs, and you fall to your knees with him, wanting to be at eye level.

“Yes, Benedict! A hundred times - yes!!!”

Your answer is rendered through watery tears as he breaks into a breathtaking grin and pulls you both to your feet. He gathers you into his arms and seals the pact with a lingering but chaste kiss. His eyes are misty, too, as your lips break apart and exchange smiles.

Behind you, his family erupts into whoops and applause as he pushes the ring onto your left finger, fitting snugly over your wedding band. You twist to see Eloise, a begrudging tear in her eye; a burden lightens in your heart as she nods towards you as if bestowing her tacit approval.

Join my taglist here | See my fic masterlist here

Benedict taglist: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @iboopedyournose @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @hanji-emo-blog @Huffelpuffforlife @0x1harmonia0x1 @sya-skies @balladynaaa

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kcamberart · 1 year ago

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Development going forward

So in case anyone hasn't heard, Unity announced this morning that they're going to be making some pretty major (baffling) changes to their licensing plans and monetization. TLDR regarding the pertinent info (from what I understand. The company hasn't made another statement at the time of writing, and the FAQ is very vague):

They've removed the cheapest paid subscription tier (Unity Plus) completely, and are altering Unity Personal (the free one) so that the editor needs an internet connection in order to function. If you're offline for 3 days, it kicks you out until you reconnect to the internet again for the software to phone home. This is apparently not an issue if you subscribe to Unity Pro, the $2,000/yr plan.

If you publish a game made using the Unity engine, once it passes a certain threshold of installations and revenue, Unity will charge you a fee for every subsequent installation of your game on a per-month basis (and it's not per-purchase, it's per-installation. So (allegedly) if someone on Steam buys, installs, uninstalls and then reinstalls your game, or if they need to update the game, that's considered multiple different instances of installation and Unity will (allegedly) charge the developer as such). This will go into effect in January of 2024, but will seemingly retroactively apply to all games published before then as well.

If I've misunderstood any of this, please feel free to correct me.

I would not be surprised if they heavily walk back some of this (i.e., "the last time we announced something bad everyone got mad about it, so this time we'll announce something unbelievable and then say that we changed our minds so people will be more willing to accept the slightly less bad thing we wanted to do in the first place"), but it's setting a very bad precedent for using Unity for any future projects.

I'm currently weighing my options on whether to finish Vollema in Unity and then migrate to a new engine for future projects (Godot gets better every day, from what I've heard), or to just take what I've made so far and start over using different software. Honestly, it's early enough in development that the vast majority of what I have finished and ready to implement is visual assets, dialogue, narrative stuff and audio, so I'm leaning heavily towards testing the waters with a different engine. I likely also will not be able to work on or release any smaller games in the coming months for the time being (RIP 2023 Halloween Game, I'll make it up to you) while I make some decisions. Regardless, I'll keep you all in the loop.

TLDR: I'm likely going to be changing game engines, which will definitely set Vollema's development time back a bit (along with my other projects), but development in general will continue regardless.

Hopefully I'll have more positive news to share with you soon! I'm gonna miss my add-ons, though. Oh man, am I gonna miss my add-ons.

#not art #vollema #gamedev #i'll have to update my software recommendations list to remove Unity regardless because I'm not about to pretend this is a good thing lmao #long post

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xoxochb · 1 month ago

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hey girl!

binged a few of ur works this morning lol (sleep? never heard of her) and kinda sorta very much may have slightly fallen in love with apollo. i blame u /j

anyhows in case ur taking reqs atm (sorry if u dont) id like if u please some domestic fluffiness of my boi and his mortal wife (she chooses to remain mortal. its a bridge theyll burn when they get there)

feel more than free to add angst muehehehe (like him watching her in the garden and thinking of the misfortune hes had with all those hes loved in the past. tears are shed and promises are made)

tysm and take care :D

*also, reader here is sort of a foil to apollo; level headed practical down to earth but no less loving and caring. shes like a budding flower in that shes reticent and aloof but to those who know her well, little is sweeter than time spent her company.

so sorry if this is too detailed lol theyre all ideas so do what u want and enjoy!

— half return

warnings: slight angst, redeeming fluff, also I’m not good at gardening so bear with my here, short ish?? pairing: apollo x mortal/wife! reader a/n: I’m always taking requests angel don’t worry :)

It was nearly unreal, the sight of you. despite your sunburnt skin and floral sundress were veiled in all kinds of dirt and various weeds or plants, your beloved husband, watching from your porch, thought you had never looked more ethereal in this messy state. you pick another bunch of flowers and begin placing them one by one into the dirt, making sure after it will swallow the stem to keep them in place

It’s almost inevitable, the thoughts, every small glance to a simple plant brings him back to his variety of failed relationships; daphne, hyacinth, cassandra, et cetera (the list goes on forever). the memory… the switch from human form to plants, with daphne a tree and hyacinth a flower (you’d made sure never to plant those in your garden to be cautious of the reassuring trauma). he only prays to every god or goddess he knows that you won’t end the same way, dead or plant. you were too sacred, too special, I mean seriously, when has anyone ever seen a god settle down with just one person, let alone a mortal at that? slim to literally never. until now. and the other olympians teased him for letting a mortal of anyone have such an affect over him— a god. he ignored the teased though, and married you anyways

too caught up in his worrisome thoughts, apollo fails to realize that you had stood from your cross crossed sitting position, far enough so you could admire your work. a soft smile adorns your mouth, eyes twinkling at the sight of your handiwork. you walk back over to the flowers where you had left your tools, taking off your dirt-covered gloves and placing them in your bucket before looping the handle around your arm and heading up the stairs of your porch where you place down the bucket. then, with a wider (and probably more intimate) you sit down on the porch swing beside your husband

your tranquil voice is the first to break the silence, “lost in thought, my love?”

yes. “I just just watching you”

“like a creep?”

apollo let’s put a melodic laugh, pulling you to sit atop his lap. “if admiring my wife was to be a crime then I would imprison myself”

“silly” you laugh and peck his lips, then in your palms he sees a purple flower saved from your garden “for you”

he takes it gently from your hands. “for me?”

you nod happily. “It’s a heliotrope. it symbolizes eternal love”

oh, it’s like you were reading— stop everything. “eternal?”

“yes” you confirm “I have a book, I showed you once do you remember? it’s that big one with the white spine. it has the language of the flowers, names, what they symbolize, it even tells you the best time to plant them. I mean, what season to plant them in, it’s really cool, honestly, do you remember it? I already asked that… but—”

your ramble is cut off my soft lips against your own, ultimately stopping any coherent thought from being processed. for a moment you stay like that, and very slowly (like, a snail could slide a mile in this time) you pull away, and with lips still against each other, apollo assures, “I remember, darling”

꣑ৎ if you enjoyed then reblogs would be greatly appreciated! my requests are currently: open if you have any <3

#xoxochb #I was actually so locked in today I got like 4 fics done #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo series #pjo fandom #percy jackson #pjo #percy series #pjo hoo toa #trials of apollo #apollo #apollo x y/n #apollo pjo x reader #apollo x you #apollo x reader #apollo pjo

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ooihcnoiwlerh · 7 months ago

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Happy Sunday, my Darlings! I have a new Feyd-Rautha/Reader chapter up! (18+ Only)

Tags for this chapter: arranged marriage; dubious consent; breeding kink; overstimulation; blood kink; period sex; pain kink; oral sex (m+ and f+ receiving); vaginal sex; Feyd-Rautha who is his own walking content warning; problematic smut; slow emotional burn; Feyd-Rautha having the most insane recovery period; discussions of pregnancy; implied/referenced past abuse; implied/referenced self-harm

Tags and notes for this story overall and full chapter below the cut. Please let me know if you would like to be tagged when I update!

CW for the entire fic: arranged marriage; forced marriage; forced pregnancy; dubious consent; implied/referenced child abuse; implied/referenced sexual abuse; implied/referenced incest; sadomasochism; pain kink; rough sex; problematic smut; vaginal sex; vaginal fingering; oral sex; blood kink; breeding kink; orgasm denial; eventual switching

Just as a note: this fic was going to be a lot shorter and completely plotless but that was 40k words ago and there's no end in sight, so I'm going to make some minor edits and rewrites to earlier chapters, but this story will end up factoring into the greater plot of the story.

Chapter Five: Playin' with Fire Burns a Little Bit

He keeps his word. It’s still somewhat dark outside when you wake to a hard cock against your backside and an arm wrapped around you, and you remember where you are and what happened.

Your ass doesn’t sting as much as it did last night; the more pressing matter is that Feyd-Rautha’s cock is slotted against the small of your back, just over the slope of your backside, and his arm that’s been looped around your ribcage is moving. His palm presses against your stomach. You give a soft grunt as you shift in his grasp and he raises himself up on his opposite elbow to get a good look at your face and your now-opened eyes.

“You’re awake,” he notes, voice even rougher first thing in the morning, and with that information decides to slide his hand from your ribcage to your crotch.

“You really meant it when you said first thing ,” you say, still drowsy, voice still laced with sleep.

“I have a busy schedule,” he says, rubbing down and sliding his fingertips along your slit before giving a quiet hmm as if to say, ‘ Not quite wet enough yet. Unfortunate .’ So he keeps circling your bud, nuzzling against your neck and jaw as you start to warm up, your breaths getting shorter.

When he wrings your first gasp out of you, he brings his fingertips back to your slit and gets the affirmation he wants that he’s getting you wet, enough that he can commence with his actual plans for you. In any case, you’re wide awake now.

You remind yourself that this isn’t the most depraved thing you’ve heard of on Geidi Prime. You don’t have to remind yourself that even as off-putting a concept it is, it felt great last night.

He turns you on your back and wastes no further time bringing his head between your legs. He takes just a moment to smell the blood between your thighs before he’s alternating between licking over you, wriggling his tongue inside of you, and suckling at your bud.

This time your hands are free to explore, to press against the back of his neck and scratch along his shoulders and biceps, to cup your own breasts to add to the stimulation until he covers them with his own.

He’s good at this , you realize, head falling back against the covers, hips arching up, and you have no frame of reference, no comparison for this, so it’s just a feeling. You’re pretty sure he likes this, likes the way you taste perhaps in part because of the blood coming out of you, and you’re willing to set aside how morbid that is if he keeps this up. You pant and moan, unconsciously grinding against his mouth and he lets you, lets you grip the back of his head as your breath comes in harsh and your entire body flushes hot. You couldn’t form a coherent sentence if your life depended on it.

Your whimpers turn into a warning, one that he ignores as he keeps going, pulling back only to spit on his thumb and bring it to your bud as he presses his tongue back inside of you. He doesn’t let up, either, when you shake and come, trembling against his mouth. If anything it spurs him on, giving you too much.

You wish he had hair so you could tug on it to pull him away and give you a moment to cool down. You’ve never just kept on going after coming and it’s too much, it’s too intense. And that, apparently, is the idea because he keeps your hips pulled to him, his face still buried in between your legs. You groan, frustrated, knocking your head back against your pillow as your hips clench and you give another spasm.

He rocks his hips against the bed, devolving into grunts and moans against your sensitive skin, like this might be what sends him over the edge, too. Not that you realize it yet but he actually could. If he chose to, he could let the friction between his cock and the sheets below him get him there. But that would be a waste of his seed that he’s bent on spilling inside of you.

So after a minute he pulls away so he can sit up and flip you onto your stomach, pulls you up by your hips, and takes a moment to look at the remnants of the damage he did last night. It must be still sufficiently red and look as tender as it feels because he wastes no time squeezing the cheeks of your ass, probably smirking at your responding pained whine.

He chose this position on purpose, you realize. You’re still sore from last night, and you’ll feel the sting of his hips slapping against your ass, especially at the punishing pace he often sets. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream as he quickly, wordlessly, assures you this morning’s no different.

When he makes a ponytail out of your hair and tugs, spurred on by the noises you’re making, you wonder about the collars in the armoire. Are those because women on Geidi Prime don’t have hair to pull? Or will he use those collars on you, too?

He starts talking; a little unusual for him, since he doesn’t normally talk while he’s inside of you, but the words spill out of his chest in his gravely timbre. You just have no idea what he’s saying, it’s all guttural Harkonnen battle language that you haven’t learned yet.

You barely manage to hold your upper body upright, and you’re sure that’s mostly because of Feyd-Rautha’s grip on your hair. He stops talking altogether and his speech devolves back into grunts and growls with each snap of his hips that almost drown out your moans and whimpers.

And then it’s done, he comes, one hand clutching your hip and the other still buried in your hair. For a few moments he stays there, still holding you onto him as he begins to soften, then he moves his hand from your hair to your stomach, coaxing you up until your back aligns with his chest. He breathes in, shifting his hand upwards until it curls loosely around your neck, which you turn in alarm to try and face him. Your blood is quickly drying, tacky and dark, on his mouth as he tilts his head and presses those blood-stained lips to yours. He only gives your neck the lightest of squeezes, a reminder of what he’s capable of but not a real threat, before moving his hand to your breast, palming it roughly. He keeps at it, kissing and fondling every exposed part of you he can reach until he gets hard again and you gasp at the feel of it, him filling out and stiffening inside of you once more.

Is this…normal? It can’t be, right? You’d probably have heard about it if it was.

He’s not a normal man , you have to remind yourself.

He took you in this position a couple of nights ago, when he had you brace your hands against the headboard as he fucked you, but right now the headboard’s too far away and so you rely on him holding you onto him, one of your hands reaching behind you to grab his hip as the other rubs down against your bud, your cries high and reedy as your fingers brush so close to where he’s pistoning in and out of you. His grunts and growls against your ear grow ragged; you half-expect him to snap his jaws and sink his teeth into your neck for the animalistic way he fucks you, like being inside of you makes him an even baser and more primitive creature. It makes you rub harder, feeling helpless to do anything else.

He lets you come this time.

For a full minute afterwards, he holds you to him, his breath going from panting back to normal, his pulse slowing back down, before he wordlessly tilts your hips forward and coaxes you on to your front before pulling out of you. You shut your eyes for a moment, hearing the telltale sounds of him padding over to the bathroom and take a moment to readjust yourself, shifting to lie on your side, waiting for him to come out.

When he does, his face and cock have been cleaned off and he heads for the dresser, and you’re about to get up to use the bathroom for yourself when he starts talking.

“I’ll grab you again in three hours for breakfast,” he says as he reaches into his drawers for clothes to train in. “When you didn’t show up yesterday my uncle was concerned that I may have been too much for you and wanted to verify that you’re still in one piece.”

“Was he really?” you ask. The best opinion the Baron seems to have of you is one of polite indifference; an adequate broodmare for the Harkonnen line.

“Harkonnen men can get overzealous,” he says. “He wants to make sure that I’m taking care of my new bride.”

That’s one way to put it , you think, shifting again to sit on the edge of the bed. It’s an effort, and even though the sheets are soft you can’t help but wince at the feeling of them against your well-used backside.

“Fine. I might get an hour or two of sleep before then.” You could certainly use it; your husband has certainly proved his stamina and energy in bed.

He glances over at you as he reaches for a training shirt. “I’m going to have a door installed connecting your quarters to mine. It’ll make it easier for us to meet at night,” he says, as if it wasn’t already easy. “Save us the trouble of having to get dressed before and afterwards.”

You could almost laugh. It would figure that’s his reasoning.

“Alright, I’ll be up in just a second.”

You’re a little surprised he’s not openly smug about how he wears you out. You’d almost expect him to joke about how hard it is to keep up with him, but he must realize he doesn’t have to. The way your legs shake a little as you walk over to your discarded clothing, the way you wince as you bend over to pick them up, speak for themselves. He does watch you, though, the rest of his clothes momentarily forgotten, as if trying to commit the sight of you to memory before you leave.

**********

You manage to get another hour’s sleep in which you quickly realize that sleeping on your back is out of the question for now.

Idrisa comes in shortly after you wake up to bring you water and coffee and prepare a bath for you. You’re so grateful for it that you could cry, hissing as the water hits your backside.

Idrisa peers in, concerned. “Everything alright, Na-Baroness?” she asks.

You look over at her. “Would you be so kind as to get me a glass of water and one of those menstrual pain tablets?” you ask.

**********

You finish getting ready just in time for the Na-Baron to greet you in what you’ve gathered is his typical politician’s attire; black, clearly high-end and well-tailored material to show off his form. Too formal to train in but fitted for ease of movement. He has a holster on his thigh that holds a knife in its scabbard.

He gives you his arm for you to take; it’s almost whiplash how he oscillates between fucking you like a beast and having you on his arm like a courtly gentleman, but you accept and stroll down the hall together in silence for a moment.

He looks ahead as he says, “It’s going to be uncomfortable for you to sit down for a couple of days.”

“I figured that out earlier, but thank you,” you say.

“He’s going to notice and he’s going to bait you. Don’t acknowledge it. Getting flustered will just add fuel to the fire,” he adds.

“ You like seeing my discomfort,” you tell him.

His jaw tightens. He opens his mouth enough to run his tongue–strangely pink despite everything else being black–over his teeth before he clicks his tongue against them. “I like it for my own amusement, not his,” he says.

You reach the Dining Hall, with a spread being set out. It’s already too much food for three people, but with the Baron it’s unlikely that it’ll go to waste.

You stop and curtsy as Feyd-Rautha pulls your chair out for you.

“Good morning, Baron,” you say, face downcast, waiting for him to give you a nod before you sit down.

Feyd wasn’t lying, sitting in a chair’s even worse than sitting on a bed. You try not to shift around to get more comfortable; you just know that they’re going to notice.

“I suppose you’re still adjusting to Geidi Prime and married life?” the Baron asks you. You know he really means, Still adjusting to getting railed by my nephew, eh? Can’t say I’m surprised; I’ve heard that he’s hung like a donkey.

“Yes, Baron. It is getting easier, though. Everyone’s been accommodating,” you tell him as you take a sip of juice and avoid looking directly at him. He can probably sense your dislike despite your best efforts to be polite and deferential. He probably doesn’t care. He probably likes that you have to simper and fawn over how gracious he is when you wish you never had to speak to him.

“The relaxation chambers are still at your disposal, if you’ve changed your mind,” he says.

“Thank you, Baron, that’s an excellent idea.” And it is, much as you hate to admit it. All that worries you is the idea of anyone but you, Feyd, and Idrisa knowing that there’s no way that you’re pregnant yet. You’ll have to investigate first and see how bad the risk is of exposure. If word got back to the Baron…you’re certain he would be less thrilled than his nephew.

Conversation quickly turns to Arrakis. Since regaining it from the house of Atreides Rabban apparently has been struggling to overpower Fremen rebels. You’re a little taken aback that they’d be willing to discuss this in front of you and realize that it’s because you have no one to talk to about this anyways. The Atreides have been all but exterminated, not that you really knew any of them in the first place. Even Father was shocked to see how swiftly they met their end when it happened.

The Fremen, it turns out, are another story. It’s not a surprise that they can match the Harkonnens in brutality; they’re the only ones who inhabit a planet just as hostile and unforgiving as Geidi Prime and they’ve found ways to adapt to Arrakis that the Harkonnens haven’t needed to before.

“We’re going to need to train our men harder,” Feyd-Rautha says. “We’ve allowed ourselves to get complacent when we can’t afford to. The Sardaukar army helped us win back Arrakis; we need to hold ourselves to their standards. Until then, Rabban needs to stop trying to ply his ego with direct combat and use aerial strikes instead.”

The Baron looks up from his food and sits back for a moment, considering his nephew’s words with a small smile. See, this is why you’re my successor and not him, he seems to think, even when their conversation leads elsewhere. It’s the look of a man who’s playing a game he has yet to reveal, and it sticks with you for the remainder of breakfast.

What else does he have planned for his nephew?

******

Feyd-Rautha walks with you out of the Dining Hall, still playing the courtly married man, taking your hand on his arm as you pass slaves and soldiers alike who lower their heads in deference. It’s going to take some getting used to. He apparently has a meeting to attend, though, as he escorts you back to your quarters.

“I’ll see you this evening,” he says, with no need for innuendo.

And so it continues for a few days. At night he takes you into his own bedchambers, tastes you until you nearly weep from the overstimulation, fucks you until you’re sore and shaking, sleeps with you, and wakes you up early the next morning to do it all again before he leaves to train. You save your energy during the day by staying more sedentary than you’re used to, remaining in the library or your quarters and listening to recorded lessons of basic Harkonnen words and phrases. Your pronunciation when you try to mimic the guttural tones is laughable, but you put in an effort. You’ll save the relaxation chambers for when you start training.

The fourth night, before he buries his face between your legs, he has you do the same to him; has you kneel as he sits on the edge of the bed and pushes his cock into the confines of your mouth.

“ You’ll learn to take everything, ” he tells you, one hand buried in your hair as he pushes you down farther than you’ve managed before, until tears spill out of the corners of your eyes and the noises your mouth makes around him sound utterly obscene. He lets you brace your hands on his legs and it’s between then and when he pulls you off of him to bring you up into bed that you notice something. The scars on his inner thigh have an uneven mirror; there are scars on his other thigh, as well, along an invisible inseam, but they don’t match. Those other scars look shorter and like they run deeper. It’s yet another question you’re sure you won’t get to ask anytime soon. Before he devours you, though, he cups your chin in his hand and looks over your tear-stained cheeks and lips puffy from sucking his cock with unrestrained lust.

“What is it about me like this, husband?” you ask, after it’s done and he’s come inside of you. You’re both naked, sprawled, and spent in his bed. The blood’s been lighter and lighter and soon you imagine these visits will go back to just the evenings. “Do you only like tasting women when we’re like this?”

He looks over at you and draws one arm behind his head. “Not only then,” he says. “But I like enjoying something other men are too weak to even attempt.”

You wait for him to continue his explanation, but he doesn’t. You’ve been continuously worn out and sore since your wedding night, but there’s something pleasant in your ache. Perhaps it’s just your body getting used to being thoroughly debauched on a regular basis for the first time in your life, but there’s also a part of you that’s starting to enjoy it.

“It’s time,” he adds. “To start training you. It can’t last long so it will have to be comprehensive.”

“I already have training,” you tell him.

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” he says. “Tomorrow morning.”

You consider this. “Fine. Do I sleep here tonight or in my room?”

He gives it a moment’s thought. “Yours.”

You’ve been sleeping with him the past four nights; you suppose it had to end eventually. You’re surprised at how easy it was to fall asleep next to him even with the early mornings.

“Now?” you ask, trying to keep the conversation as business-like as possible. It’s just easier that way; to shut off any impression that you want intimacy from him that he simply can’t provide. You’re pretty sure it’s impossible for him.

He looks over at you, considering. “In a few minutes,” he decides. “I’m not sure if I want to go again tonight or not.”

As it turns out, he doesn’t, but that doesn’t stop him from glancing over at you a few times, his eyes-half-lidded as his gaze goes up and down the length of your body. When you meet his gaze he looks back at you as if to say, What? Am I not allowed to look at my own wife?

He finally tells you what hour he wants you up. “Get a good night’s rest,” he adds. “You’ll need it.”

He sits up to watch you as you rise from bed, padding naked over to his dresser. He stares unapologetically at your form as you get dressed and leave for your quarters. Construction for the door connecting your bathroom to his is almost complete, and soon you won’t need to leave your quarters to meet him in his.

********

Idrisa wakes you up early.

“My apologies, my Lady, but the Na-Baron wants you to meet him in the Training Halls before breakfast,” she says, holding a pair of flat boots and a couple of other garments in her arms. “He has this for you to wear,” she adds, setting the boots on the floor and everything else on the dresser. “Your coffee is on the desk. He’s given you half an hour to get ready and wants you to bring your dagger.”

You blink, trying to take in what she’s saying before rubbing the heel of your palm against your eyelid. Right. The training.

“Would you like any assistance, or would you like me to wait by the door?”

“I’m fine, thanks,” you say, wondering for a moment if Feyd-Rautha was preparing you to get up this early for the past few days knowing that you’d be training with him.

Probably not. I think he just wanted to fuck in the mornings too .

You sip your coffee before plaiting your hair and taking a look at the clothes your new husband wants you to wear.

It's a practical training outfit; you're pretty sure that Geidi Prime doesn't make training clothes for women, and that he had this commissioned for you given that it fits better, especially in the hips, than you expected. Women on Geidi Prime don’t serve in combat, much like your own planet and if there’s any formal training for women you haven’t heard about it yet.

You manage to make it to the Training Halls in time but still not feeling fully awake.

Feyd-Rautha senses you from the moment you enter, even at the farthest end of the room. It occurs to you that you haven’t seen him in something as innocuous as training gear yet; simple trousers and boots, a fitted but breathable black shirt that stretches across his chest and shoulders, a holster strapped to his thigh. If it weren’t for his bearing he could almost blend into his surroundings.

“Good morning, Na-Baron,” you tell him with a polite incline of your head, figuring that his most formal title would be best to address him in front of the very men he’s meant to lead. You imagine that you make an unusual match for him as it is given how unambiguously foreign you are.

“Good, you’re here,” he says. His tone is casual, light; in front of his men, you may as well be an acquaintance. “We have a lot to cover, but today my main agenda today is to see your skill level as it is now. When we first met you said you were out of practice. How long has it been since you’ve sparred?”

You try to think. “It’s been about eight months since I’ve done anything,” you admit.

“And when did you start?” he asks.

“Age fifteen,” you tell him.

“And how often would you train?” he asks.

“About an hour, two or three times a week,” you tell him.

He looks both unsurprised and unimpressed with this new information. Instead he takes a small, black device from the waistband of his pants and holds it up. “Have you used one of these before?” You immediately recognize it as a shield activator.

“I have, Na-Baron,” you tell him. “During fighting lessons.”

“Good. You’ll be using one for all of our sessions, just in case.” He hands it over to you to clip onto your own waistband before he signals to another man who’s slight of build and several inches shorter than him. The man strides over to you and lowers his head in deference.

“Na-Baroness,” he says.

“This is Korvo,” Feyd-Rautha says. “He’ll make a suitable opponent,” he says, looking you both over as if to confirm that the two of you are in a similar enough weight class. “Which are you more familiar with? Knife or dagger?”

“I would say the dagger,” you tell him.

“Then I’ll start you off with the knife,” he says. “Start with mid-range fighting and work from there.”

“Alright,” you say, looking over at Korvo, who finally raises his head to look you in the eye. They’re dark brown; there’s a scar along where one of his eyebrows would be. His expression is entirely neutral; if he has a single opinion about you, you’d have no idea. It’s been a week since the wedding and you still don’t know how any of Harkonnen's subjects feel about you.

Feyd-Rautha pulls a knife from one of many lining the walls and hands it over.

“Thank you,” you say softly, taking the handle. He releases it immediately, watching you adjust it in your hand.

“How’s the grip?” he prompts.

“Fine, thank you,” you tell him, glancing over at him before he steps back to a safe distance, and turning your attention back to your opponent as you turn on your shields and settle into position. Korvo does the same, staying still until you both hear Feyd-Rautha’s voice give the simple command, “ Go. ”

You circle each other, and you try to remember your footwork, trying not to cross one leg in front of the other, keeping your stance guarded.

Korvo waits, letting you get nervous as you keep expecting him to make the first move. He makes no offense until you finally think, Oh, get on with it, and lunge first.

For a minute Korvo seems to let you get reacquainted with the practice; one of you strikes, the other blocks, still circling each other. You remember to play to your strengths, which you’ve been told is your form and your flexibility.

So far so good, you think as you block a blow to your shoulder. Then he sweeps his leg, nearly tripping you, and you realize that you haven’t been paying enough attention to his footwork, too preoccupied with his upper body. You startle and recover, regaining your balance just in time for him to swipe, and he’s closer than you realized. When did he get this close?

Too fast! you think, gasping as you try to lean back, as Korvo’s knife swipes just under your breasts, your ribcage protected only by your shield that reverberates with the resistance so hard that your teeth chatter.

“One,” Feyd-Rautha says. He sounds like he’s moving to get a better view as you and Korvo progress. You try to tune him out, inhaling sharply, before finding an opening at your opponent’s left side and lunging.

You’re proud of yourself for about two seconds in which your knife meets Korvo’s shield, even as the humming of it reverberates in your bones. Korvo counters with a knock of his forearm against yours with a force that knocks you off balance again before you realize that he’d been holding back. There’s a mechanical coldness in his eyes as he moves. You can only counter and have no time to lunge or attack, just trying to keep up with the barrage of swipes as he gains on you, forcing you back, before he lunges.

You stumble and trip, falling flat on your ass and in the blink of an eye Korvo’s on top of you, his blade at your heart, and you scream.

Were it not for your shield you’d be dead , you think as you stare, panting and wide-eyed up at the man who’s far more lethal than his appearance would suggest.

He immediately withdraws the knife. “Na-Baroness,” he says, tone apologetic, as he offers you a hand to guide you up. You’re just glad you fell on the flesh of your backside and not your tailbone. You hadn’t realized it was happening, too caught up in your work with Korvo, but people are watching you.

Of course people are watching; you’re new, you’re unfamiliar, and you’re the future Baroness. You sense their gazes on you but you ignore the embarrassed flush and turn to look over at Feyd-Rautha. It’s been a while since you’ve practiced this, and longer still since you felt so out of your depth.

He considers you, head tilted, arms crossed, as he looks between you and Korvo. Finally he speaks, stepping in closer to you both. “Alright, you have some decent baseline form and technique but you still need to reacquaint yourself, especially with speed and footwork. Korvo will continue to train you.

“Speaking of which,” he turns and immediately punches the man hard in the stomach and as the man drops, raises a knee to spike him in the jaw. You recoil at the sickening crunch.

“For scaring my wife,” he explains to the man now crumpled on the floor.

“ Was that necessary? ” you demand, voice cracking.

“He’ll be fine,” Feyd says. “We have Healers for anything broken, and I can help you with the rest of our session today. I’ll test out your skills with that cute little letter-opener you keep hidden in your boot.” He grabs another shield activator from a nearby table and clips it on.

Out of the corner of your eye you notice Korvo slowly getting up and spitting a small wad of blood onto the floor before shuffling to his feet. An attendant quickly comes to his aid and escorts him from the Halls. You look down, not wanting to see whatever Feyd-Rautha may have done to his mouth or jaw.

“Now I’m going to want to get an idea of where you stand with the dagger,” Feyd-Rautha says, getting your attention again, holding out his hand for you to hand over the knife, which, once he has back, he hands over to another attendant to set amongst the others.

“Let’s see it,” he says when he turns, nodding at your boot.

You haven’t pulled it out of its holster since your last lesson eight months ago. You’ve been carrying it around with you more as a good-luck charm rather than a weapon since then. You pull up your pant-leg to unclip it and draw it out. It’s a very pretty blade, if you do say so yourself. The handle was made with a woman’s sensibilities in mind. Feyd-Rautha waits for you to unclip it from its holster and tilts his head when he sees it.

“Ornamental,” he says.

“Still functional,” you tell him as you hand it over and watch him twirl it in his hand and examine the blade. It was designed specifically for you, so it’s almost baffling how deftly his larger fingers twirl it with such ease. He looks at it as if it shares deeply guarded secrets about you before looking back at you.

"The dagger's close range," he says, as if you didn't already know. “What were you taught about evasion and disarming techniques?”

“In the event of an ambush, don't rely on brute strength, don't hesitate, and don't bother trying to fight honorably. It’s not a duel; they're not looking for a fair fight, either.”

“Good. Let’s start with disarming techniques,” he says. “In case you’re caught unarmed or unable to reach your weapon.”

The first exercise is easier; it’s one of the first things you’ve ever learned, the way to grab his wrist and pinch the flesh of his palm. This is familiar, and you ease back into the confidence you’d had earlier. After a few goes of it, Feyd-Rautha watching your form, decides to move on–you have no doubt that he’ll come back to this, go faster, go meaner. This all seems to be a diagnostic, something he can use to gauge your potential.

“Alright, you get the concept,” he says. “Let’s move on to disarming an opponent who’s behind you.”

Fine . You assume nothing will phase you quite as much as sparring with Korvo earlier as you get back into a neutral stance, waiting for the tell-tale signs of moving feet, but instead you feel the long, chiseled lines of your husband’s chest and stomach against your back, his free arm wrapped around your ribcage, and your own dagger at your neck. Or rather, you feel the hum of both of your shields vibrate at the contact.

Oh. This kind of close range . You inhale sharply. You don’t need to see Feyd-Rautha’s face to see the unrestrained delight in his eyes.

“Nervous?” he asks.

Exposed . Your pulse quickens. He hasn’t done anything, he’s fully dressed. His hand is on your ribcage, not your breasts or between your legs, but you feel like the two of you shouldn’t be doing this with other people around. They have their own training to get through, of course, but they’re noticing. Even as they keep their heads down and try not to stare, they’re paying attention. They’re probably wondering how you take the Na-Baron's cock inside of you each night.

The vibration of his shield merging with yours doesn’t help.

You take a breath and twist in his arms before he tightens his hold.

“Sloppy work,” he says.

You would argue in your defense that your previous instructors for this weren’t men who’ve been inside of you or licked your pussy until you screamed from the nerve-shattering pleasure of it. It’s more distracting this way.

He starts the position again, his front against your back as he presses the dagger just up against your shield, the hum of it so close to your throat it gives off an almost-purring sound.

Do you like being pressed up against me? you want to ask.

He answers before you get the chance. “I changed my mind. I’ll instruct your close range fighting personally.”

You could laugh, but instead you simply reach behind you, grabbing his crotch and twisting hard–with the shield it won’t hurt him in the slightest, but you were told it was one of the most effective ways to disarm a male opponent.

He snorts and presses the tip of your dagger further against your neck. “Should’ve known you’d go there, pet,” he murmurs in your ear. “It’s not always a reliable technique.”

He’s aroused. You can feel the outline of his cock straining against his trousers as it presses against you.

“Try again,” he says.

*********

Two hours later you’re worn out and beset with what you’re sure will become bruises. So, all in all a very typical two hours with your groom.

You part ways so you can each shower, change, and reconvene for breakfast.

“Unless you’re actually sick or he’s elsewhere, my uncle wants you to attend breakfast and dinner with him as a sign of respect,” Feyd-Rautha tells you. “But you’re free to do as you wish and go where you like during the day.”

That freedom would sound more appealing if you enjoyed going outside, but you still get short of breath easily every time you go out under that black sun, so that means more research, more time listening to language recordings, and more time re-learning everything you forgot plus everything you hadn’t realized you didn’t learn about self-defense.

But today you end up re-reading from books you brought from your old home and writing letters to each of your family members. You write to them about learning basic battle language, about how your husband has recently taken the liberty of teaching you what he knows about self-defense to build on what you’ve already learned. You ask them about the weather, about your friends, about how their lives have changed since you last saw them. It feels far longer than a week. You ask about the stars, about the natural light displays. Your planet has a beautiful night sky. You have to keep reminding yourself that you’ll see it again one day, even if it’s not as soon as you’d like.

Feyd-Rautha’s as polite and restrained towards you at dinner as he always is in his uncle’s presence. During your meals together he seems detached, almost indifferent to you when you’re pretty sure he’s not. He doesn’t show an ounce of warmth but always pulls your chair out for you and waits until you’re seated to sit down himself.

You find that you prefer it; you don’t want the Baron to get so much of a glimpse of the carnality of your marriage and the way his nephew takes you apart with enthusiasm that’s almost frightening.

The only indication that Feyd gives of his interest in you is when you’re both leaving the Dining Hall and he stops to mutter in your ear, “Tonight I’ll come to your chambers instead.”

You think about how he’d gotten hard during practice. When you’re getting ready for the night’s rendezvous you wonder if he took care of it himself in the bathroom later that morning or if he decided to hold off until he could unleash his pent-up lust on you.

You get your answer when you’re in only your robe.

“Your husband, the Na-Baron,” Idrisa says, eyes downcast, as she opens the door for him. He’s barefoot, in just a pair of trousers he quickly undoes, and it’s clear both that he’s already hard and that he’s wearing nothing underneath. Your eyes widen.

Idrisa’s still in the room! you want to snap at him. She doesn’t want to see you like this!

Instead you watch as he steps out of his trousers and hands them off to Idrisa without a word or a look back at her. She inclines her head, accepts the garment, and turns to neatly fold it and place it on top of the dresser.

“Thank you, Idrisa, you are relieved,” you tell her, and she inclines her head and leaves after a soft, ‘ Thank you, Na-Baroness .’ You drop your robe, standing beside the bed as he comes closer. You look at each other for a moment. He raises his browline at your wide eyes.

“Is this another test?” you ask finally.

“Just something new,” he says. He glances towards the bed and back at you. Go on, get in , he seems to say.

You keep your eyes on him as you slide into bed, sitting up with your hands braced behind you as you wait for him to follow, unsure what position he’ll want you in.

As it turns out, you’re exactly where he wants you. You feel the dip of the mattress as he gets in, planting one knee in between your legs, then the other, before descending upon you. He leans in and you lean back, letting your head hit the pillows as he braces himself above you and latches his mouth to your neck, nipping and sucking what you’re sure will be little pink and red marks that his men will notice tomorrow when you train.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for hours,” he says. “I was nearly about to fuck you in the Training Halls during our session.”

“There were other people there,” you tell him.

“I could’ve told them to leave,” he says, in a tone that suggests he wouldn’t have cared either way. “Next time I might. And then I’ll pull down your pants and claim you on the floor.”

He doesn’t give you the chance to give you a rebuttal before he kisses you fiercely and you can’t help but respond in kind, as spent as you feel.

You cry out, back arching at the first full thrust of him inside of you, and he smiles.

Oh yeah , he seems to think. I’d make sure everyone can hear the noises I draw out of you . He braces one arm beside your head, holds your hip with his free hand as he normally does at first when he’s taking you in this position. He watches your face, your breasts and the movement of them as he rocks into you, his mouth open as he slides his hand from his hip to the small of your back. And then he sits up on his haunches, taking you with him. You gasp, a high-pitched moan spilling out of you at the change of angles. You scramble to get your knees under you in time as he continues thrusting upwards, one arm around your back and his other hand still clutching your hip.

“Ah!” you manage, sliding down onto him. It’s the most leverage you’ve gotten with him, making you gasp and whine as you hold onto him; it’s the most he’s really let you move and it comes instinctively. He lets you take over the rhythm that he started as you roll your hips on top of him and clutch at his back.

In a sense it feels almost like you’re the one fucking him, him rocking up to meet your movements and his hands on your hips encouraging you. The heat grows faster this way, with the angle and the friction and the way he eases up and follows your pace, his harsh breath against your ear as you keep thinking about how you want to kiss him but your gasps and moans against the open air are too much for you to collect yourself enough for that. The desperate noises that he pulls out of you, that you pull out of yourself, spill from you without thought, louder than his own grunts and growls. You just keep moving, faster and harder, your nipples stiff and your entire body flushed as your body chases after your release.

I’m close. I’m so close , you want to tell him if only you could speak. Instead you find a spot at the juncture of his neck and shoulder and lean down to bite down as you keep grinding down on him. That’s the moment that does it for him, and you gasp, rocking down onto him one last time as he comes within you. Your hips jerk and stutter as you feel him painting your insides and remove your mouth from his neck with a sloppy lick and try to find your bearings. You’re still on top of him, he’s still inside of you, you’re both panting and you wonder if he feels as close to delirious as you do. You’re still hot, still pulsing, and give a closed-mouth whine as you squirm on top of him. C’mon, please , you want to tell him. I was almost there .

He presses his forehead against yours, panting against your mouth, before with a snarl he grabs your hips to hold you still and brings his thumb down to where you’re joined. It takes only a few passes, especially when he brings his mouth just under your ear.

You come around him, shutting your eyes around the intensity and digging your nails into his shoulders; you’re starting to grow them longer for this very purpose.

He holds onto you, his forehead resting against your shoulder. He stays inside of you as he wraps one arm around your back, uses his free hand to clutch your hip as you readjust for the second time and he lowers you back down on the bed.

You assume that once you hit the mattress again that he’ll pull out and pull away but he doesn’t; he pulls his hand out from under you but otherwise stays where he is, buried inside of you and draping over you to rest his head against your sweat-damp collarbone. It’s like he’s sinking into you, laying on you, still inside of you even as he’s going soft. It feels oddly nice. Like he’s finding a home within you. As if the two of you are actually coupled by choice rather than mandate. Even the weight of him on top of you feels somehow reassuring.

You absently stroke his back and wonder what he’d look like with hair. What color would it be? What texture? He has long eyelashes, but there’s little else to go off of.

“Is my hair going to fall out?” you wonder aloud after a moment. It’s a reasonable question to have; none of your body hair has grown in again, not even a hint of stubble.

Feyd-Rautha pauses and raises himself up on one forearm to look at you properly, perhaps trying to figure out if there’s an implied insult in your question.

“I just wonder how all of that works here,” you tell him.

“You can’t lose something that never grows in the first place,” he says. “People born on Geidi Prime never grow any as long as they’re living here.”

You frown as you run your fingertips along the back of his head. “But you weren’t born on Geidi Prime, either. I looked it up; you were born on Lankiveil.”

“When I came here I was ordered to have everything shaved off,” he says. “None of it ever grew back.”

You consider this, enjoying the tenderness he’s letting you show him for now. “Is that why you have eyelashes?” you ask, brushing your thumb along his cheekbone. There’s the faint memory of freckles on his cheeks; it makes you wonder what his pigment would be on a planet with a proper sun.

“Yes. He didn’t think removing them was necessary,” he says, not needing to specify who ‘he’ is, and his tone is clear: I don’t want to talk about my uncle while I’m still inside of you .

Fair enough. He sinks back down, content to forget the entire conversation, and you drop it, but because this is the first time since you’ve met that you truly feel comfortable with him, you keep talking.

“What was it like on Lankiveil?” you ask him.

He gives an irritated huff. “Why,” he says.

“Just curious,” you say. “The climate sounds a lot like my planet. I grew up surrounded by water, too.”

He sighs, his chest expanding. “Then there’s not much to tell you, now is there,” he says again, voice flat. After a moment, “Even if you were blind and deaf you could smell that you were on an ocean planet just from the salty air. It was cold, damp, dark.”

“ Hmmm .” There are so many questions you want to ask. Did you like it, though? What did you like about it? Have you ever missed it? Were you happy back then? Did you love the family you’ve lost? Have you ever tried going back? You won’t ask them, not anytime soon and potentially not ever. “It’s not a smell you ever think you’ll miss,” you say instead, both hands absently stroking his back and shoulders in no particular pattern.

“Didn’t say I missed it,” Feyd says immediately.

“I do, though.” You already miss the sounds of the ocean crashing against the rocks and stormy sunsets over the rolling tide. Geidi Prime has nothing. It’s a wasteland devoid of life, devoid of seasons. You try not to think about that, and instead the new information Feyd-Rautha’s given you.

Your children will be hairless . You’d implicitly assumed, but it paints a more vivid picture of what to expect.

“You miss home already?” he asks.

Of course I do. Geidi Prime's atmosphere is overwhelming and you're far away from your family. Idrisa’s the only friend you've made and she's obligated to spend time with you. Of course I'd rather be home than here.

But you're not about to tell him that right now, not while you’re the closest thing to content that you’ve felt since you landed. “It’s just what I’m familiar with,” you tell him. “I’ve never lived anywhere else.”

He finally slides out of you as he raises his head again, and you can’t place his expression, but you’re struck with a thought as you bring one hand to his face.

I really want to kiss you right now.

You almost do, and maybe he can see it in your face. You’re not sure how you’re looking at him but he blinks, looking at first your eyes and then your lips, and before you can lean up he gets up, slides out of bed, and pads over to your bathroom. You turn to your side to watch him go, to see his shoulders taper down to a narrow waist, the slope of his ass, and those long legs and how even when soft his cock hangs between them. Tomorrow construction will be complete and your quarters will be connected to his.

Given his abrupt departure to the bathroom, when he returns you expect him to pull on his trousers and leave, but instead he slides back into bed alongside you without a word.

He settles for a moment, turning to face you. He seems thoughtful for a moment.

“Even with the protections you have, it would reflect poorly on me and the Fortress if we had you training while you’re showing, if you’re not pregnant already,” he says.

“I’m no Bene Gesserit,” you tell him. “I can’t tell if I’m pregnant yet, can’t control or predict the sex of the baby–”

“I wouldn’t want a Bene Gesserit wife,” he says. “I can barely tolerate them as is. That’s not the point. We train you as well as we can for the limited time you have.

“But while we're talking about the Bene Gesserit, they will be visiting in three weeks for my birthday. They'll be able to sniff out right away if you're pregnant or not.”

“Given the rate that we’ve been going, that won’t be an issue,” you tell him.

He looks down at your stomach, as if picturing how soon it’s going to swell with his progeny. “Training to be a warrior starts early,” he says. “I was seven when I began and that was later than normal, so I had to work harder than the others to make up for lost time.

“This is not an easy planet to grow up on, so the training is necessary. Especially with Arrakis. We’ve been in conflict for decades and it’s only gotten more severe.”

“Spice production isn’t your only means of industry,” you tell him. What Geidi Prime lacks in vegetation it makes up for in fuel and minerals that get heavily mined.

“Maybe not, but it’s our most lucrative, and until we find a different planet with as much spice as Arrakis, we won’t end our occupation there. In any case, we need to remind the Fremen of our might. I want to build my troops to be the most powerful in the universe. That’s what our children are meant to inherit. That’s what I want to lead and for our son to take over after I’m gone.”

After I’m gone .

Within ten minutes he takes you again, against your headboard as he holds you up, hands under your ass and your legs wrapped around his hips. He mounts you like you’re an animal he killed for sport and hung up on his wall as he murmurs something in Harkonnen battle language against your neck and all you can make out are my woman and something about his semen. He controls the pace this time, fucking you up the length of the headboard as you hold onto him, moaning and panting.

Afterwards you lay side by side, and you look over at him as he starts to doze off, one arm across his ribcage, the other behind his head, one leg bent at the side. His lashes flutter closed. He looks peaceful. He'd be blond, you realize. His lashes are fair so his hair would be some shade of blond. Or rather, he was blond, once.

Perhaps he’d be too beautiful with hair and a normal mouth, you think. Maybe the strange appearance is another layer of armor. The teeth certainly are; he must dye them with some kind of charcoal.

“What,” he says again, his tone annoyed even as he doesn’t open his eyes.

“Nothing,” you say simply, and turn away. When you’ve slept together it’s been with his chest against your back. Neither of you have discussed it, but you both seem to prefer it.

As you drift off you picture a version of him with more pigmentation; sun-kissed skin sprinkled with more freckles; wavy blond hair and tawny eyebrows, a white-toothed smile. A version of him almost too pretty to look at, in a life he was never going to have.

**********

You wake up as the early morning trickles in a sickly gray from the window.

Feyd’s turned away from you at some point during the night and it registers as odd, not having the already-familiar sensation of the warmth of his body against your back and his cock nestled against you. You blink, turning around, and seeing that his back is turned towards you. For some reason his scars look worse in the morning light. Your pink little scratches and bite-marks will fade soon and be replaced by others; the lash-marks will probably never go away.

You reach out, fingertips skimming his back. The unmarred skin is so soft, stretched over the sinewy muscle, that the raised skin of his scars feels like a road map of what he’s quick to endure. You wonder about the scars along his inner thighs, if he’d let you touch them. You think about how you’d like to, how you’d like to explore more of his body as you trail your fingertips along the deepest and ugliest of his lesions.

No sooner do you think that then you can sense Feyd waking and turning to face you in an instant. It takes you by shock, barely able to comprehend what’s happening, as he grabs your wrist in a vice.

His pale eyes look silver; his nostrils flare, his jaw clenched. For a moment it’s like he doesn’t see you.

You want to pull back but he holds onto your wrist–for a moment you worry that he’ll squeeze tighter and shatter the delicate bones. The two of you stare, caught in silence. Then he blinks and seems to take in the fear and confusion in your eyes, and whatever he saw wasn’t you, not with the recognition sinking in. He releases your wrist, looks away, and rolls in the opposite direction of you.

“What are you–?” you start, stunned. You feel utter whiplash from the difference a few seconds could make, unsure exactly what you did.

He gets up without a word. He doesn’t look back at you as he pulls on his trousers.

“What did I do?” you ask him.

He pauses, starts to look back, and turns his head back to the door and leaves. You stare after the door once he’s shut it behind him, wondering what happened.

You don’t go back to sleep. You lay in bed for the hours it takes for light to more prominently trickle in.

Not that he said it out loud, but you think you just got confirmation for how he got those scars.

Tags: @richardslady121 @blazeflays @wo-ming-bai

#feyd x reader #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha smut #feyd smut #dune part 2 #dune 2 #feyd rautha x you

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