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fakevalentine · 2 months ago

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— FLUSH ! 🃁 🃊 🃋 🃍 🃎

female reader x sevika

cw — nsfw. public sex. exhibitionism. oral ( sevika ). finger sucking. spit play. humiliation?. sev has body hair!

disclaimer i have no idea how to play poker also this is kinda long i just love sevika so much i had to put my whole pussy into her!!!

no matter how many times sevika literally sat down and explained the rules of poker, you never understood. she told you step by step what to do, even a lost a round while letting you take her turn to practice.

but no avail. you remain clueless and, well... useless.

sevika drags you to the last drop every friday, and tonight was dragging on for an annoyingly long period of time. she enjoyed gambling and won a lot, spoiling you if you acted right. you didn't want to take that away from her— even if you were bored out of your mind sat beside her.

she had sent you up to the bar with a handful of coins for 'a whiskey and whatever you want.'

thieram (or chuck, as jinx calls him) the bartender, knows exactly how to pour her drink. he's nice to you, offers some small talk and maybe a friendly compliment, but doesn't let his eyes linger on you for too long. and that's about it.

you take her whiskey over ice from the bar, not bothering to get yourself anything since you were still sipping on your beer you got an hour ago. you keep forgetting to drink it.

sevika drinks too fast, you tell her all the time. but it takes a whole lot to get her drunk, she wasn't even tipsy yet.

her attention is solely centralized on her cards splayed out between her metal fingers and held in place by her thumb. you glance at her face as you sit down and slide her drink over; she's unreadable as ever. her poker face is impressive.

her flesh hand reaches over to pat your thigh in thanks before wrapping around the glass of whiskey and taking a gulp, sighing and sitting back on her chair. her legs are spread wide, and you're suddenly distracted by her thick thighs.

and she's fully aware. "bored?"

you look back up at her face when her deep voice rings through your ears. she's looking at you now, her piercing bright eyes basically staring through you. "no. just thinking." you reply.

she raises an eyebrow, not believing you, "about...?"

riding your thighs— "nothing important. are you winning?"

she huffs at your question, "guess." she wins every round, and has. her pile of winnings only growing higher, and you know you're eating good for at least a month.

you smile softly, looking around the poker table at her men that were clearly distressed. it wasn't looking so good for them, their wallets collecting dust every time they played against sevika— and yet they came back every friday and threw their last coins on the bet in hopes of suddenly getting lucky.

"i know you're bored." sevika murmurs, and you feel a little guilty because you know how much she genuinely enjoys playing poker. but it was boring you to death.

you frown and look up at her, "sorry, babe..."

she shrugs, her hand finding your thigh again as she looks back down at her cards, "i got an idea."

"don't tell me you're gonna make me play again.." you giggle a little, and the corner of sevika's mouth turns up just a little at the familiar sound.

"fuck no," she squeezes your thigh, your muscles flexing under her grip, "not a chance, girl."

you reach for your beer as she talks, taking a few sips and admiring how the low light of the bar highlights the scars decorating her brown skin, "so what's your idea, sev?"

"get on your knees."

you choke on your drink, eyebrows scrunching together as you stare at her for a few seconds. "seriously?"

sevika shrugs nonchalantly, "it'll keep you busy."

she barely blinks before you're setting your drink down and slipping under the table between her legs on your knees, always eager to please her. the men at the table look up from their cards, watching you scramble under their table before exchanging looks with eachother.

"keep your eyes on your damn cards." sevika snaps, spreading her legs a little wider as your hands slide up her thighs and finds her heavy belt buckle, the metal clanking as you undo it. you then pop the button on her pants and pull her zipper down.

you know her boundaries, and you know better than pull her pants down any more than needed— even though you want to. so you shimmy then down along with her boxers just enough.

her boys aren't completely stupid, they know what you're doing under the table. but they also know not to mention it, not wanting to piss sevika off, paired with them being used to the very little decorum you and her have. anytime, anywhere.

so of course this wasn't the first time you knelt at your girlfriend's feet on the sticky bar floor, hence your lack of hesitation.

sevika's hand comes down to your face, squishing your cheeks before easing two of her thick fingers into your mouth, pushing them further until you gag. you know she would be smiling that pretty tooth gap grin if she wasn't putting on her poker face, but admittedly, both were hot.

she presses her thumb against your chin to tilt your face up, putting pressure on your tongue and sliding her digits along your muscle. she's doing this for a few of reasons, the main one being to get herself wet— and to torture you, of course.

she fucks her fingers in and out of your mouth and you probably should be embarrassed by the nasty gagging, clicking sounds you're making. you know the people around you can hear, and you should be ashamed.

she sees your thighs press together, shoving her fingers down your throat with a groan. "fuck is wrong with you?" she scowls, waiting until you gag again before pulling her soaked fingers out, smearing the slobber over the bottom half of your face and smudging your lipstick.

well she's soaked now, fucking your throat always works a charm. you can see the hairs on her mound glistening with arousal, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth at the sight.

she pulls your lip from your teeth with her thumb, sliding the pad over it. "c'mon, get to work."

you scoot closer to her, lowering your face between her thighs and flicking your tongue out to taste her. sevika just takes a deep breath, her thigh twitching a little.

you latch your warm mouth onto her, moaning against her clit at her taste as you suck on her gently. she hums in approval, reaching her hand down to thread through your hair to shove your face further into her cunt.

you happily oblige, looking up as you mouth at her messily. your hand slides up her body to slip under her shirt, feeling the slight contractions of her abdomen, her happy trail tickling your fingers.

the only thing you disliked about doing this was that you didn't get to see her pretty face scrunch up, or her head fall back as she pants heavy and tries not to let out little high pitched moans. but you also don't mind her cold stare, barely acknowledging how your tongue pressed against her hole, humming when you taste her arousal leak out.

she just grunts, letting go of your hair and grabbing a cigar, shoving it between her teeth and lighting the end of it— mostly to keep her own mouth busy to conceal the moans and groans brewing in her throat.

"keep goin'."

that's your sign that she's close, and you knuckle down, moving your head up and down slightly. her right leg jerks, smoke blowing out of her nose as she exhales deeply and tries to keep her composure.

you smile against her at the sight, and her eye twitches in annoyance. she knows you know— both that she's close, and the way you make her feel. it drives her insane that you know her so well, that you can make the most feared woman of the undercity a puddle in your mouth.

sevika grunts, shifting her hips and looking down at you. "come on." she mumbles, smoke escaping between her teeth and making you a little dizzy.

you shake your head slightly to heighten the friction, her clit throbbing against your tongue as her jaw clenches. her leg jerks up again as she cums, her knee knocking against the poker table and making the chips jump. you flinch a little but keep sucking as she grips your hair, keeping your mouth on her as her head falls back on her chair.

she lets out a huff, rubbing her hand over her face and pulling your face away from between her thighs. she scans your face, taking in your pussy drunk expression, her slick covering the bottom half of your face.

you smile up at her, and she smirks. both at how cute you look, and how god damn slutty you are.

one of her men clears his throat awkwardly, shifting in his seat. "you two need'ta get a damn room."

#fakevalentine.com #kat's. work. 𝜗𝜚 #sevika #sevika arcane smut #sevika x reader #sevika smut #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #arcane #vi #jinx #lesbian #sevika x you #vi arcane x reader

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thejoyofviolentmovement · 8 months ago

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Photography: Sigma Sound Studios 3/22/24

Photography: Sigma Sound Studios 3/22/24 @visitphilly @SigmaSound @SigmaSounds

Photography: Sigma Sound Studios 3/22/24 As I mentioned in a couple of previous posts, I was in Philadelphia last weekend for the first session of the Asian Art Initiative’s Sound Type Music Festival and Music Writers Workshop. After checking into my hotel, I quickly realized that I had forgotten to pack deodorant. But thankfully, there was a drug store a couple of blocks away on Market…

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#Asian Art Initiative&039;s Sound Type Music Festival and Music Writers Workshop #Gamble Huff and Bell #music photography #Photo Essay #Photography #Sigma Sound Studios #soul #The Stylistics #travel

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euthymiya · 2 months ago

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[ YOU SAY I’M STRONG (BUT YOU MAKE ME FEEL WEAK) — FT. KINICH ]

SYNOPSIS: kinich can’t quite put his finger on it, but he doesn’t like your new friend. you seem to put two and two together a little better than he does

WORD COUNT: 2.6k words — short n’ sweet like sabrina

INCLUDES: female reader ; mature 18+ content ; jealous/insecure kinich ; spoilers for his character stories ; references to his father’s abuse, gambling, and alcoholism and his mother’s departure ; unnecessary slander of a poor npc who did nothing wrong in canon lolll ; reader sits on his lap ; making out ; dry humping ; alludes to sex afterwards ; not proof read

Kinich knows he’s strong.

He’s gifted. Athleticism comes easily to him, he’s certainly skilled when it comes to wielding his vision, his claymore takes a good deal of talent to swing, and he’s never quite had trouble excelling in combat.

You say he’s strong, too—but not for the same reasons.

You’ve been through so much, you like to whisper.

You grew up so fast.

You’ve come so far.

For some reason, you like to measure strength differently. Kinich doesn’t always understand it—he doesn’t think he’s strong just for surviving the way you like to say. He thinks he’s resourceful, maybe. Perhaps even clever or quick-witted. Strong has never been something that’s come to mind when he thinks of the things he’s grown up around.

He was never strong enough to protect his mother. He couldn’t have saved his father if he’d tried. He never even stood up to the man when his father was alive—his only skill then was running.

Strength found him as he got older. When his weakness was tiresome and burdened him enough that he needed to find his way in this world, Kinich found strength.

He’s good at running. Picking up something as heavy as a great sword isn’t too hard for him. Learning how to dodge and throw a punch is easy enough. Dendro isn’t too complicated to master with enough practice.

Kinich is strong. He knows that, but today, he feels weak.

“Your eyes cross when you think too hard,” you murmur. He breaks from his thoughts at the sound of your voice, relaxing only slightly when that breathy giggle of yours tickles over the shell of his ear as you kiss his cheek and settle beside him. “Here, they’re fresh.”

Kinich likes quenepa berries. They’re easy to grow and rewarding to taste. They were his mother’s best crop, in fact. He lets his lips part as you push a few between his lips and grin.

“Thanks,” he mumbles.

Something is nagging in his mind still. Something that whispers one unsatisfactory word over and over and over in his head.

Weak. Weak. Weak. You’re weak. Incredibly weak. Pathetic and weak. You’ve always been weak.

You seem to notice it too— “You’re still thinking,” you point out gently.

Tell me about it, is what you mean. Talk to me.

“I’m not sure if it’s possible for someone to ever stop thinking,” he replies smartly. “Well…I guess unless that someone is you.”

“Hey,” you huff, snatching away your bowl from him as he reaches for a few more berries. He’s smug—the deftness of his fingers makes for an easy grab at a good handful before you can properly create distance between him and your bowl. “Take that back. Now!”

“It’s a bit empty up here sometimes, don’t you think?” He pokes at your forehead, chuckling at the curl of dissatisfaction on your lips.

“Well, it’s better than having someone like you think too hard. That’s a bit dangerous,” you grumble.

He laughs. Momentarily, the voices quiet. “My quick thinking has helped out a good once or twice,” he points out, popping a few more berries into his mouth.

Sweet. Juicy like he remembers. He hasn’t had berries quite like these since his mother’s departure.

“Alright,” you roll your eyes half-heartedly, “I get it. You don’t want to talk about it.” He’s silent at that—you’re right. He doesn’t want to talk about it. But perhaps more importantly, he doesn’t quite know how to. “You know you can tell me anything, though. Right?”

Kinich doesn’t know exactly when this started. He started with a good day. Exceptional, even. Somehow, it got lost along the way.

First, you woke him up with a kiss—(really, he was awake already, but sometimes he likes to pretend to be asleep so your lips do the honors of breaking him from his slumber. A minor inconvenience of laying perfectly still for the hefty reward of your lips). Later, he landed a commission with a decent profit of mora. It went by fast enough that he could swing back home to grab you for lunch.

And that’s when it starts to all go downhill.

“Of course I do,” he answers instantly.

“Then tell me,” you pout.

I don’t know how, he wants to say. Instead, he settles with: “You know him. The guy we ran into.”

It comes out a tad bit grumpy against his will. He doesn’t completely understand what it is that makes him feel so unsettled—Kinich knows that in a fight, that man is practically a house of cards if he is the wind. And he’s strong; he knows that as much as he knows you do, too.

He still can’t shake the feeling of being so weak.

“Oh,” you tilt your head, “yes, he moved from Toyac Springs! He’s very nice, I like to help him find his way around here sometimes.”

“He gave you a hug,” Kinich points out blandly.

“He did,” you nod slowly, “he’s friendly, you know?”

“Friendly.” He tests the word on his tongue. He doesn’t like how it tastes. Like a bitter, unripe quenepa berry that’s been harvested too early.

His father tended to do that. Impatient and unyielding to reason is how he remembers his father to be, snatching berries from the vines against his mother’s insistence before spitting them out with an angry grunt.

Absolutely worthless, he’d remember hearing an angry voice spit. You can’t even grow a few decent berries.

They’re just not ready yet, his mother’s voice would waver.

Weak, he remembers feeling. Unable to stand up to his father. Unable to take care of his mother.

Oddly, it’s how he feels with you right now.

“His name is Hakau,” you say carefully, “and we’re friendly sometimes. It’s nothing like that, though.”

“Like what?”

“Kinich,” you sigh, “is everything okay?”

Something in your voice tells him you know everything is definitely not okay. But you want to hear it from him. You want the words from his mouth directly.

He doesn’t know how to give that to you. He doesn’t even know half of what he’s feeling—just that there’s a heavyweight in his throat that tastes and feels like lead when he swallows.

“Everything is fine,” he mumbles. “I just haven’t ever seen him, that’s all. I was curious.”

“And…that’s it?”

“I suppose so.”

“I don’t…” you pause, biting your lip as you study him for a moment before shifting to crawl on his lap, straddling his hips before your hands cup his cheeks. “I don’t think you’re telling me everything.”

“I don’t know what to tell,” he finally admits.

“You don’t like Hakau?” You ask gently.

“He talks a bit much,” he shrugs. “And he laughs a lot.”

“He’s a bit energetic,” you agree, smiling a little at his confession. “I guess he’s not for everyone.”

“But he is for you?” He raises an eyebrow.

Your face softens as you lean in and press a small kiss to his nose as you whisper, “I think you’re for me. Does that count?”

“You’ve never mentioned him,” he adds, refusing to meet your eyes.

“He’s not really the most important development in my life,” you chuckle, “I only see him here and there.”

Kinich is strong. Physically, he knows that. When it comes to fighting a war and hunting a saurian, he’s adept. Beyond that, all he knows to do is stand on the side and watch people he loves exit his life. Because he’s never enough.

Weak. It’s what he feels when someone like Hakau is able to smile brightly and pull you into a hug right before his eyes. When was the last time he hugged you under witnessing eyes?

Never, he thinks. He touches you in the privacy of your home where no one is there to witness the fact that he loves you.

Weak. It’s what he realizes he is when your eyes are bright and excited to see a man whose expression mirrors the same show of joy. When was the last time his face expressed that much affection for you?

He can only assume there hasn’t been a moment—not when his cold expression and distant eyes have been something he’s heard about time and time again.

Kinich is too weak at building love. He doesn’t know how to be a son who’s enough to be better for, to give up gambling and a few sips of alcohol. He doesn’t know how to be a son who’s worth staying for, who’s the reason every obstacle is worth fighting through—even when it comes in the form of a drunken slap or a slurred yell.

He doesn’t know how to be a man worthy of your love, either. Not one who can come and greet you with something as simple as a hug. Not one who can display his affection on his face from nothing but a bright grin alone.

He’s too weak for that. His heart is a muscle he’s never strengthened. His limbs are too frail to support carrying your heart in his hands, too—he’s never been worthy of your affections.

At least, that’s what his mind has always told him. He knows you’d disagree, but that’s only because your eye is trained to see only the good. You don’t look at him to search for the reasons you shouldn’t stay.

Maybe Hakau could easily be a reason you should leave, though.

“He hugged you pretty tightly,” he grumbles one last time. It’s a bit petty—you’re sweet enough that you giggle and let it slide.

“I think I see the problem,” your grin widens, “I think you’re just a bit jealous, is that it?”

“Jealous of what? His awful haircut?” He rolls his eyes.

Yes, he thinks deep down. Yes, he’s jealous. He’s jealous of the way joy comes easy to Hakau and the way it seems to roll off of him in waves at the sight of you. How easy it must be for him to love you and love you strongly. Not some weak, sorry excuse of affection that Kinich offers you loosely gripped in his inadequate fist.

You’re kind, though. Patient and gentle as your hands cradle his cheeks and force him to meet your gaze.

“There are reasons for everything, you know,” you murmur.

“You’re saying there’s a reason his hair is so ridiculous?” He asks incredulously.

You laugh, airy and bright as you roll your eyes. “No, silly. There’s a reason why I love you and don’t love him.”

“Like what?” He asks, feigning a casual tone. Please tell me, he thinks desperately.

“Like when you pretend to sleep so I kiss you awake,” you tease, kissing his jaw.

He pauses. “How did you—”

“Or when you spend your earnings after a long commission to take me out to lunch.”

“Anyone could do that—”

“Or when you force Ajaw to fly me up a mountain because I’m too scared to climb.”

“Technically Ajaw does the work there—”

“Or when you share your pillow with me when I come hog it.”

He cracks a small smile at that, letting out a short laugh as he mumbles, “You do hog my pillow a lot.”

“I can’t list all the reasons I love you,” you whisper, kissing the corner of his mouth, “but I can’t come up with a single reason not to love you. I think that’s plenty.”

Kinich is strong. He’s able to support your weight when you lean into him more, settling most of your body onto his lap as you kiss him deeply. His fingers dig into your hips, guiding you closer as he groans into your mouth.

He loves you when you kiss him, and he loves you when he can feel your body nestled against his. It’s a strong, palpable feeling he can’t deny—and he’s starting to think you feel it from him when you smile into his lips as his hand cradles the back of your neck, pulling you impossibly closer.

“I could tell you a couple of great reasons you wouldn’t love that weird guy.”

“His name is—”

“He talks too much. He laughs annoying. And his hair is weird.”

You giggle, burying your head into neck as you huff, “Those are all shallow reasons.”

“Okay,” he hums thoughtfully, “He doesn’t know you like I do.”

His hips roll up, and your breath catches in your throat. There’s a noticeable, sizable bulge in his pants that you can feel press against your core. He grins when you falter over him, strong arms wrapping around you and keeping you in place as he presses his own kisses to your jaw while you shiver.

“If you know me so well,” you say petulantly, “You know I hate when you tease.”

“But I actually know you better than that,” he chuckles lowly, “I know you fall apart nicer when you’re pushed around a bit, don’t you?”

His lips are back on yours, mouth warm and hungry as his tongue invades your space. It’s a brief battle—he wins and explores the parts of you he already has memorized by heart. You whine against him, damp and aching between your legs as a familiar tension builds up.

Your hips roll over his clothed cock, your cunt dragging along the erection with enough pressure that both of you pause for a moment and shiver. It feels good—it’s not enough to qualify as what you need from him, but it’s never not good with Kinich. You feel the pressure of his hard-on rubbing against your clit, and your hips roll in sync to build the light tingles of pleasure as your mouths kiss each other in a sloppy, messy exchange.

“I hate your friend,” he declares breathlessly.

“Don’t be jealous,” you tease, giving your hips a languid thrust to press harder against his cock. He groans, head falling to your shoulder as his hands grab your hips and guide your to rub against him the way he wants.

His way. He’s strong enough that you can’t fight against the pace he sets for you—not that you want to, anyway.

“I’m not jealous,” he grumbles in between moans, “I just don’t like the way he looks at you. He looks stupid.”

“I didn’t notice,” you say breathlessly, “I was too busy looking at you.”

“Aren’t you sweet?” He snorts.

You grind down against his cock once. Twice. The third time, he meets your movements, and both of you still, tense for a moment as the coil snaps and your walls flutter around nothing while his tip leaks with ropes of thick, warm cum that spoil his pants.

“F-fuck,” you whine, “Kinich.”

“So…so perfect,” he grunts, pulling you in for a sloppy kiss.

It’s needy—the way the both of you move desperately to feel the friction just a tiny bit longer to ride out the waves of your orgasms. You can feel the twitch of his cock through his pants as it dampens from the mess of cum, and he can feel the quiver of your cunt as he spams around nothing.

It’s not enough, but somehow it’s more than perfect, too. Because he’s him. Because it’s you.

“You’re supposed to fuck me properly when you’re feeling possessive,” you mumble against his chest.

He lets out an amused breath as he answers, “Yeah? Was that your plan all along?”

Kinich is strong. He flips you over easily, hovering over you as he nips at your pulse point. He can feel the erratic pace of it through the skin, earning a smug grin that his lips press into your neck.

You love him pretty strongly, he concludes—poor Hakau always stood the weakest chance.

Hakau is a random npc in the scions of the canopy im sorry for all this drama brother. You seem like a good guy I just needed someone to be the loser here for the sake of plot

#writing tag #kinich x reader #kinich x you #kinich smut #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin x you

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chaptersleftunwritten · 4 months ago

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What a lie, what a lie, what a lie…

Blurb: During a smoke session Eddie is betted $100 that he won’t be able to sleep with you by the time summer rolls around. He proves them wrong.

Pairing: Dickish!Eddie Munson x Virgin!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Gambling, depictions of sexual content, mentions of drugs being taken, cursing, alcohol consumption, graphic descriptions, a lot of emotional damage in this one… Characters are 20+ college students.

Ethereal fairy lights doused you and Eddie in a golden hazy glow, both of your bodies glittering magically with sweat as your naked limbs entangled each other in an intimate embrace.

But something between you two was forever changed after that night of steamy heartfelt affection and you felt it like a knife twisting in your sternum as you listened to Eddie leave your dorm room without a goodbye. Not even a kiss as he pulled his ripped jeans over the skin of his still damp legs and ran.

You were never one to fuss. You never wanted to cause a scene or create an issue that never existed in the first place- you were ‘the cool girl’… but when your gut is unable to move on from something then you must investigate. You had to, why else would Eddie have left so suddenly if there was nothing wrong?

You gave yourself to him. You showed him not only your nude body, but you bore your soul to him. No one had ever gotten close enough to you to be as privileged as he was. No one had saw you so exposed. So vulnerable. Until him.

Unbeknownst to Eddie at the time, you had allowed him to take your virginity. You trusted him with your entire being and you believed that you truly loved him. You loved him enough to bleed for him- to hurt for him…

And after he fled that night, you laid on your crimson stained sheets and sobbed yourself to sleep. You can’t blame him for not knowing- but you also prayed for some tenderness from him. Even if you weren’t a virgin, sex is such a sacred act and aftercare should always be incorporated.

The following morning you awoke to an emptiness you’d never experienced before. Something had shifted and your innocence was gone. Girlhood was over and adulthood fucking sucked.

- Steve’s off campus apartment, 6 weeks prior -

The tip of the meaty blunt embers brightly with every drag Eddie takes, his eyes are almost a florescent shade of red and Steve is on his seventh beer of the night, “C’mon man, that shit would be so easy.” Steve laughs, his Adam’s apple bobs prominently as he tips his head back to down the rest of his alcoholic beverage.

“Nah, not interested.” Eddie passes the joint to Jonathan who has almost been swallowed up completely by the beanbag his body is submerged in.

Steve gasps mockingly as his hands clasp together to crush the empty can of beer before he tosses it across the room- aiming for the trash can which he has already missed the past seven times… “I didn’t peg you as a chicken, Munson.” His fingers snap open another can, “Are ya scared or somethin’?” Steve’s eyebrows wiggle at Eddie and Eddie proceeds to drag his hand down his face, already tired of the conversation… or maybe it was just the weed settling into his system.

“I’m not scared, Harrington. I’m lazy. There’s a difference. Besides, what do I get out of it instead of a possible cream pie?” Eddie huffs a laugh, accompanied by Jonathan and Steve’s eyes spark with relentless mischief.

“If you put it like that…” Steve stuffs his hand into his pocket, rummaging around inside of the fabric before pulling out an array of objects. They consisted of a stray button, a small foil packet containing a condom and two $50 bills. He picks up the crumpled currency, slamming it in front of Eddie with a cocky grin splayed handsomely across his face, “A hundred bucks if you manage to bang her before summer.”

Steve knew that if he wanted to convince Eddie to do anything, he had to pay up. Whether it be drugs, booze or money, he knew if those three things were involved Eddie could be easily persuaded to do most things. And unfortunately… Eddie agrees.

“Fuck it, why not.” His hand slaps into Steve’s hard, the noise quaking through the small room as they shake on the agreement. This wasn’t the first time that Eddie had partook in some stupid shit suggested to him by Steve and Jonathan. He had done some crazy things before; jumping off of a roof into a dumpster (breaking his arm in the process), setting fire to his clothes just so he could test the ‘stop, drop and roll theory’, taking ecstasy before a rave (which led to him having a severely horrible psychedelic reaction) and the list goes on and on.

But this… this was a whole new level of low for Eddie. He knew it was wrong, but he just couldn’t let Steve win. His stubbornness would be the absolute death of him. Or so he thought…

“By summer! That’s… what? 7 weeks? Think you can tap that by then, Munson? Or is that not enough time…?” Steve was too confident, he could see this whole shit show going up in flames and he rejoiced in the idea of Eddie being the one having to pay up by the time the weather was its warmest.

“You’re fucking on, Harrington.” The words leave Eddie’s mouth in the form of a venomous competitive bite.

And just like that, the bet was confirmed.

The news arrived in the flesh form of Nancy Wheeler. Jonathan could never keep anything from her- he was sick with love and the guilt of the whole ordeal was eating him alive. He knew he would get the end of Steve’s wrath but he couldn’t take it anymore, he had to confess. Your only wish was that Nancy had known sooner. Before the damage was already done.

Your world was spinning on a side way axle when Nancy told you, and it has been spinning upside down ever since, “I can’t believe how moronic they all are! I’m so sorry you had to find out this way…” Her voice is washed out by a ringing that has taken over all of your senses. You were good at disassociation when it came to protecting your feelings- and that’s what you were doing. Nancy had no idea that you had totally zoned out whilst she continued to rabble on about how Steve had changed and how disappointed she was in Jonathan. Your mind was completely numb to all emotions and information.

You hadn’t heard from Eddie since that night… and now you understood why. Your gut feeling was proven right once again- but you weren’t glad this time around. You weren’t relieved like you usually were; you were hurt.

And you were fucking angry.

Still with a week to spare Steve coughed up the money, making Eddie $100 richer- but that couldn’t amount to what he had lost. Eddie was a player, you knew that from the very start- but you stupidly thought that he was different when it came to you. That you could somehow change the way he thought about relationships.

It was clear to you now that you never stood a chance against Eddie Munson. You never did.

Your first initial instinct is to confront him and Steve face to face, but something was holding you back. Was it fear, rage, agony? You didn’t know, but what you did know was that they already thought you were a joke, why would they take you serious now? The answer is, they wouldn’t. They would chew you up and spit you right back out. Their punchlines would be thrown at you and each one would knock the air from your lungs— you were a laughing stock to them.

The thought alone makes red hot tears streak from your mascara painted eyes, the corners of your lips stealing a taste of the salty liquid as it fell. Nancy had long gone and you decide in that moment that you weren’t going to class today. You couldn’t stay on campus grounds, each passing second intensified the crumbling of the hole in your chest, now so big and gaping that you feel as though your heart may just fall from its cage and land on the ground in front of you. Unbeating. Dead.

You walked until your legs turned to jelly, causing you to collapse on a nearby sidewalk. You were in a unrecognisable neighbourhood. Some of the houses look pristine from the outside, freshly coated paint that was clearly done annually, fences held securely together with the best knuckles and bolts and on the other hand, some of the homes looked like they are over three decades old- gutters filled with rancid leaves, unwanted ivy climbing the walls, windows so dirty and murky you wouldn’t be able to see inside unless you were inside.

The setting sun litters the sky with flaming clouds coloured the brightest shades of orange, pink and purple. You smile up at the visual, momentarily forgetting about the inner turmoil that has caused you to drown your sorrows in straight vodka and cigarettes.

“Oh, Eddie.” You cry and toast to the sky, bringing the clear vodka bottle back up to your lips, throwing your head back and gulping down as much of the pungent liquid as you possibly could stomach. The strong taste momentarily numbing your mind. The only thought that was cartwheeling through your intoxicated brain was why?

Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why? Why?

Why you? What was so challenging and intriguing about sleeping with you? Why not some other girl? Anyone else. Anyone but you.

More tears, less salt in your body- water replaced with alcohol. Your mind fizzes with warmth and your body is slowly shutting down on the edge of the road. Luckily, it’s quiet at this time of night. Everyone is at home with their families, tucking into some home cooked goods. You wish you were at home- you wish you had never left state to go to that stupid fucking college in the first place. You could have avoided this. Avoided him.

Your fingers twirl in the holes of your laddered tights, pulling on the fabric and watching the tear travel from your thigh down to your knee- which you only now register is bleeding. You must have fallen earlier, scuffing the skin pretty badly… but you can’t remember.

Blank spots taking over your memory? You’re nearly there. You’re nearly free of him- free of this day and of this shell which you call a body.

You just need to keep drinking. Finish your second bottle.

“What the fuck?” The voice is nearly enough to pull you back from the darkness, but your vision is blurry as you focus on the misshapen figure hovering above you, “Jesus Christ! You’re a fucking mess- what are you doing? Where have you been?” Eddie has no right to be angry at you, he caused this, but you’re putting your well-being at risk and he is disappointed in you. He thought you were smarter than this- he would rather you attack him, scream at him and hurt him back. But not this…

You’re nearly paralytic.

He had been searching for you all day, surfing through crowds in the canteen, asking around classmates and even speaking to randomers in the street.

Then he found you here. Cold to the touch. Anyone could have found you in this state, if it hadn’t been him… he doesn’t even want to think about what could have happened to you.

“Can you stand?” He asks gentler now, worry lacing itself through his voice and choking his voice box slightly. You bury your face into your hands, finding comfort there you breathe out an inaudible ‘no.’ Your breath whiffs back into your face and your nose scrunches at the scent. Pure alcohol. It’s nearly flammable.

Eddie sighs before scooping your frail body up from the ground, your fingers loosen and you end up dropping your bottle. The glass shatters all over the concrete, “Shit!” Eddie snips but you don’t even flinch at the ringing sound of broken glass- you’re too far gone.

“Do you even recognise me?” Eddie holds your sleep stricken face in the palms of his hands, forcing your gaze onto his softened features. You hum happily at the feeling of his cold rings pressing against your warm face, you feel as though you’re sweltering but in reality.. you’re icy to Eddies touch. There’s a moment he contemplates taking you to the ER, “You’re freezing, love.”

“You d..did this!” You hiccup, your finger jabbing weakly at Eddies chest. Your fingertip may as well have been a knife because Eddie’s heart sinks to his stomach as he holds you upright, knowing he drove you to this is sickening to him. He almost vomits… but you beat him to it.

He holds your hair back from your shoulders, “Let it out, honey.” With Eddie’s free hand he rubs your spine, his words of encouragement echoing through your empty skull.

“I hate you.” The sobbing arrived suddenly, causing your entire body to tremble. You’re beginning to feel the temperatures of outside and Eddie knows that he has to get you home quickly- despite how hurtful your drunken words are.

“I know.. I know you do.” His deep voice is strangled with sadness as he guides you over to his van which is parked across the street from where you had nested on the sidewalk, “I’m so sorry, love. I’m so sorry.” You don’t respond, you just shake your head at him. Unable to bring up the words. Your tongue feels thick in your mouth.

Eddie’s grip on your shoulders is strong as his fingers stab into skin. You keep stumbling over your own two feet, your face would be hitting the ground if it weren’t for Eddie’s strength.

Your palms slam against the metal of his van door, steadying yourself there before Eddie helps lug you inside. You want to kiss him as he reaches over your body and belts you into your seat but you don’t- not because you wouldn’t but because you couldn’t. You feel as though you’re now unable to move your body- your limbs weighted down as you puddle into the musty passenger seat that wreaks of stingy weed with a twang of old booze.

You wonder how many girls have been in here before you, how many others had him and Steve ruined? You close your eyes to stop more tears from escaping, you have cried a river tonight and you’d much rather be numb now.

Cascading light etches it’s way through the smudged glass of the van, illuminating the inside just enough for you to see Eddie’s eyebrows knitted together in what you can only assume is either frustration or concentration.

One of his hands is secured on the steering wheel whilst his other arm is draped over your idle body- his attempt to try and keep you sitting upright and not accidentally smashing your face into the dashboard. If you weren’t so angry at him you would mould into his touch, but nothing can fix what he has broken.

Nothing.

His voice vibrates through the stuffy air and you wish you could make out what he is saying but you can’t. Your tired eyes are heavily lidded and your ears have totally switched off as you slump further into your seat, your head tilting back slightly as you drift in and out of consciousness. Your body is aching for rest. You just need sleep- this will all be so much better in the morning…

You don’t understand how or why you wake up in Eddie’s Hellfire t-shirt but your investigative skills narrow it down to the taste of vomit in your mouth and the aspirin that has been left on Eddie’s bedside dresser alongside a tall glass of water.

‘Take this, I’ll be back soon. -Ed’s�� A note reads in sloppy handwriting, signed by Eddie. You would roll your eyes if your pounding headache wasn’t causing them to screw shut- why is it so fucking bright?

You blindly take the pills, the water cools the acidic tinge plaguing your throat and you gasp for air after chugging the entire glass, your cotton mouth leaving you still thirsty for more.

You’ve no idea what time it is or where your clothes are so you can get dressed and bolt before Eddie gets back. For some pitiful reason you’re not surprised that he went out and left you alone. It’s what he’s good at- making a mess and then running away.

Your exhausted body pushes itself up from the springy mattress. Every muscle in your body sore from laying in one solid position the entire night but thankfully the pain medication is starting to kick in for your headache.

Just as you manage to swing your legs off of the bed you hear a door slam shut, your body naturally jolting at the sound.

“It’s just me!” Eddie yells from a far off room and you feel panic begin to compress your chest, like a can being crushed until it’s flat. You’re too sober and hungover now to face him. You need to get out of here and as soon as humanly possible!

You contemplate taking on the window, but there’s no way you would be able to hold your own body weight right now. You would probably plummet to your death if you tried. So what do you do instead? You sit on the edge of the bed and stare at the bedroom door in horror and anticipation- awaiting your nearing fate. Which soon arrives in the form of a chocolate eyed man, his hair tied back messily into a ponytail and in his arms he holds a tray, “Good, you’re awake.”

You silently curse at the way your heart beats faster at the sound of his sweet voice.

Offering him nothing but a tight lipped smile your eyes fall curiously to the tray he is holding. Did he..?

“I made you something to eat,” he advances further into the room, stepping over loose t-shirts and clothes that have been discarded without a care onto the floor, “I know food is the last thing on your mind right now, but if you want to feel better you need to try and stomach something.” He places the tray next to your bare legs on the bed, his eyes flicking the the skin before back to your face.

He palms at the back of his neck nervously and you examine the dry toast on the plate, next to it is a blob of strawberry jelly and a chunk of butter, “I didn’t know if you’d like anything on it so I just kinda left it up to you.” He smiles at you and you nod in response, leaving the food untouched.

“You undressed me.” The thought makes you want to heave into his trash can. Unless he had done it with his eyes closed, which you doubt, that means he got to see your body again. Touch your skin again. He doesn’t deserve that.

“I.. uh.. you,” he coughs lightly to clear his throat, “You threw up everywhere. All over yourself… I didn’t have a choice.” A redness warms Eddie’s cheeks and you suck in an exaggerated breath, your lungs feel as though they are struggling to breathe.

“Right.” You nod, your eyes scan the room for any sign of your own clothes, which you’re unable to find. Eddie notices, “They are in the wash. Your clothes, I mean. If you’d like a pair of pants I can rummage around for you?” He walks over to his wardrobe and you can’t help but watch him. He is moving feverishly. He is anxious and he’s rambling.

“Your tights were pretty ripped up, you must have fell before I found you. I washed them anyways but I don’t know if they are salvageable.” You look to your knee, finding a massive bandaid stuck to the skin. You remember that part- you bleeding and falling. You don’t remember Eddie bandaging you up, though.

“Thanks.” Even in despair and rage, you remember your manners. This all only proves how much he is able to be a true gentleman- and how much he really must have gone out of his way to purposefully hurt you. It makes your eyes sting. If you hadn’t cried so much last night you probably would be able to muster some tears now- but you’re bone dry.

“Listen.. I.. I don’t know how to say this”, Eddie is cautious as he sits down next to you on the bed, ensuring to keep a good amount of separation between the two of you, “How I feel about you is real. Everything that came from our short time together is real, lovie… and.. and I’m a fucking idiot.” His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps, his throat clearly parched, “I won’t stop apologising, I won’t stop hating myself for what we did- for what I did.” His fingers twitch with need as Eddie contemplates reaching for your hand, but he ultimately decides against it, “I’m sorry.”

Your thumbs twirl with one another, your nail coming to pick at the sensitive skin around the cuticle, “You’ve really hurt me, Eddie.” Just when you thought the tears wouldn’t come, they do, “I can’t believe you made a fucking bet over me. I.. I’m not just some toy you can play with and then throw away when you’re satisfied. I’m a human being! And I’m mad at you.. I’m so mad!” The words squeak out as you let yourself feel everything you’d bottled up over the last few days. The mountainous emotions that you’d let fester deep within exploded through the floodgates.

“You’re such a fucking dick, Munson! I hate you right now!” Your breathing hitches as you struggle to control your breath, “I hate you..” The words are meek and small but they have their desired effect as Eddie’s heart becomes like melted wax in his chest, and it hurt for him to even breathe.

You meet Eddie’s gaze, tears were swimming in his honey brown eyes, but his face was rigid with focus, “I need some time away from you. I can’t.. I don’t want to forgive you right away.” You sniffle hard, your hand coming to paw at your soaked eyes, “What if you’re lying to me again?”

Plump pink lips part on Eddie’s face and he stands up momentarily, only to drop to his knees in front of you, “Let me prove it to you then. Let me make it up to you, please.” He begs, his hands resting on your bare knees and his soft touch shouldn’t scorch you but it does, “I’ll do whatever it takes, sweetheart. Anything to earn your trust again.” He desperately searches your face and you feel your shoulders slump in defeat. It’s so fatiguing to be so upset, “Please.” He repeats, his voice is a light choke.

You nod with a sigh, your hand clasping over his, “Okay.” You breathe, your mind clearing as your tears dry, “But I need time.” You repeat, the venom in your voice dissolving with every second you look at him.

Eddie nods in approval, a teary smile finding his face which he tries to bite back, “Time. I can work with time.”

You smile half heartedly as Eddie presses his forehead to yours, nuzzling his nose gently to your own, “Anything for you, Princess. Anything for you.”

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