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King and Witch!
Thank you for the ask :)
KING: How long have you been working on this WIP and its world?
Well, I've had the Secret Sun around for about a year now, so I guess that would be the correct answer, but I've only started to expand the world for it more recently. I had a few scrapped older story ideas that I thought would be better if I put them in this story instead, and they've helped to build the background/setting better.
As for the steampunk-fantasy vibe of the Secret Sun world, that mostly came from the fact that in my previous story, Lost Paradise, I wanted to have a steampunk feel to it but it didn't work out that way (at least, not yet), and I thought that Secret Sun's more Industrial Revolution-type setting would benefit better from that. It also meshes well with the repeated time travel theme. Magic steampunk, I guess.
WITCH: What sparked the idea for this world?
Haha, at last I get to talk about this!
Aside from what I mentioned above, the idea for the Secret Sun (and of course, the original idea for its world) came from a dream I had about a year ago (I don't remember the exact date). It was a weird dream - it was just this scene that played out like a short film - and I wrote it down when I woke up, as much of what happened and the feelings/aesthetics I got from the dream as I could remember. This has only happened to me once before, with Lost Paradise, where I had a weird dream, very vivid, of a winding library with many staircases and two siblings stumbling upon a black cat playing a piano in a stone room. Like I did then, I sort of started just writing, building the story up from that one scene.
I haven't gotten to the part in the story where the scene will take place (because I keep putting all my fanfic WIPS ahead of Secret Sun) but I'm eager to write it because it has this sort of golden-clockwork-architecture aesthetic to it that drives me crazy (I wanna see it animated i wanna see it animated i wanna see it animated)
#thanks for the ask (again)#apologies for rambling i get excited sometimes :)#the secret sun#i swear working backward from a dream scene and filling in the rest of the story is both my most fun way to write and the freaking hardest#because i got That Scene but I don't know how I'm going to Get there#and i hope the story cooperates
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POP THE HOOD F'ME
pairing. chris x reader genre. smut with plot. MDNI. word count [5.2k]
content; mechanic!chris, flirty!chris, smoking (they share a cig), sex with a stranger ig? semi public, car head (m recieving), face fucking, big dick chris, reader has an eyebrow piercing, use of pet names, dirty talk, swearing
Maybe it was just dumb luck.
My dad has been promising me that his old ford pickup was gonna be mine when I got my license since I was ten. However, not long after my sixteenth birthday, he randomly decided that his promise had conditions.
I had to fix it myself.
I had been putting off working on it for years. I just didn't have the time, and it needed a lot of work. The list of things to be fixed was long, and I knew if I started then, I wouldn't have finished.
Finally, the time presented itself for me to start. I finally had a summer that wasn't so busy, so I decided in May of this year I was finally going to do it.
I was finally going to get my own truck.
So I did; I worked on it for two long months. Two long months spent in the garage on my back under the heavy pickup with my hands covered in soot and oil whilst sweat dripped down my face. Two long months spent fixing the paint job and fiddling around under the hood, my hair tied back to keep it off my neck while the sun beamed through the opened garage door.
I finally felt confident enough to take it out for a test drive today. It was starting fine in the garage, and I'd driven it around the block a number of times without fail.
I excitedly hopped in the driver's seat and shut the heavy door, jamming my keys into the ignition and grinning at the sound of the roar when the engine started. I made it pretty much across town without a single problem, and I thought I was in the clear.
So, maybe it was just dumb luck when not even an hour later, here I am, standing on the side of the road next to said pickup with the hood popped and smoke coming out of the cabin.
Or maybe, just maybe, it was dumb luck when I realized I was only three blocks away from an auto shop, and a guy pulled over to help drag my car there.
It felt like forever when we finally reached the parking lot. The red and white sign that hung over the opened garage doors read 'sturniolo's auto-repair".
For the most part, the slots were empty, except for a 58' baby blue Impala that was suspended off the ground, and a brand new silver Subaru outback that sat right next to it.
As we finally pushed it into the open slot on the far end of the garage, I let out a sigh of relief, wiping the sweat off my forehead with one hand and letting them both rest at my sides.
I thanked the stranger for his assistance and he wished me luck, mumbling about how much a repair on a truck like this was going to cost before wandering off. I scowled at him as soon as he turned away from me.
Walking away from the smokey and damaged shell of a car, I pushed open the clear glass door into the entry-way of the shop, and the sound of the ringing bells that were carefully tied at the top of the door filled my ears.
Near the desk stood two boys, both were brunettes that roughly stood at the same height. The first was wearing a red toyota nascar cap backwards over his brown hair, as well as a black tank top and a navy blue mechanic's suit that hugged his frame. The name patch on the chest of it read "Matt". He was speaking to another customer, flailing the rag around as he emphasized his points with his hands.
The other was standing behind the counter, a gray bandana tied around his head. He wore a navy blue button up that he left completely open with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, making the white tank top he wore under it visible.
The name patch on his chest read "Chris", and a white rag was thrown over his shoulder. A plethora of keys were hooked to a red carabiner that hung around the belt loop of his jeans. The desk hid his lower half below his waistline, and as I stepped closer, I saw a toothpick in between his teeth and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he jotted down words on a yellow notepad with a pencil.
I slowly walked up to the desk, my arms at my sides. He didn't raise his head to look at me, he just continued writing, so I cleared my throat.
His head shot up, and his expression fell into embarrassment.
"Fuck- sorry, I didn't hear you come in. How long ‘v you been standing there?"
I laughed lightly and shook my head. "Not long, I just walked in."
A smile painted itself onto his face as he set the pencil down and put his hands in his pockets just far enough that his thumbs still stuck out. "What can i do for ya?" He asked kindly, the toothpick in his mouth moving as he spoke.
"My truck broke down three blocks ago and wouldn't start. I tried looking under the hood to see the problem, but it was smoking, so I pushed it here." I explained, my hands finding each other and clasping together at my front.
He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly. "Jesus, you wheeled it all the way here?" He asked, laughing breathily when I nodded my head in response. "Atta girl. What kind of truck is it?"
"A ford pickup," I responded all too quickly, my voice strained as I tried to ignore how my heart swelled in my chest from the impressed look on his face. He nodded as he opened the drawer next to him and pulled out a ballpoint pen, picking up the notepad once again to start writing. "What year and license plate?"
"85', boston plate, the number is 289 BTO. " I watched as he wrote mindlessly, the handwriting barely coherent.
"'M kay, I'll take a look at it for you." he said, setting the notepad and pen back down on the counter. He opened his palm, gesturing for my keys, and I dropped them into his grasp. He hooked the ring that held them together around his index finger.
"Wait here, should only be a couple minutes."
I nodded as he circled around to the end of the desk, walking past me and pushing open the door to the garage.
His absence gave me a chance to examine the decor of the office space. Family and baby portraits crowded on top of the counter below the window behind the desk. A mickey mouse clock sat above the side door, and a large OPEN sign hung in the window.
The wall was crowded with plates and signs. One that caught my eye was an eagle with its claws digging into a hanging mirror, the name HARLEY DAVIDSON displayed in bright orange letters above the eagle's head. Next to the register was a small bell with a sign that said "ring for service" and the words 'don't actually' were scribbled in sharpie above.
Just when I was getting lost in thought, I heard the door bells jingle a second time, and Chris walked back in. The rag was now hanging loosely in his palm as he approached the counter. He stood right next to me, reaching over for the notepad and throwing the rag back over his now bare shoulder, which is when I realized he had discarded his button up. My eyes dart down to see the keys to my truck now hanging on a different belt loop on his jeans.
"From what I can see," he starts, popping the cap of the pen off and leaving it in between his teeth as he spoke. "It looks like a coolant leak. The combination from the antifreeze leaking and the heat of the engine is enough to make it smoke, but it's not enough to cause the engine freeze up." he explains, his eyes meeting mine every couple of words to make sure i understand. "So, it could also be a fuel pump problem combined with the leak."
I nodded, chewing my lip nervously as he went on to explain the time the repair would take as well as the cost. When the words, "not finished until at least tomorrow" left his lips, I huffed in defeat, and tried to make my disappointment less evident as i crossed my arms in front of my chest.
"How long have you had it?" He asked, now leaning against the counter next to us with one elbow, crossing one foot over the other.
"I've only started to work on it this summer, but it's been my dads since before i was born."
He nodded. "It's a pretty ride," he confessed. "I honestly expected it to look worse when you said 85', but the conditions not bad. You been workin' on it a lot?"
"As much as I can." I shrugged.
He complimented the paint job, to which i confessed i'd done it, and he gushed. "Christ, you should work here. Matt can't paint to save his life. You could probably get him out of a job,"
Matt sent a glare his way. "Shut up, kid. Dad would fire you over me any day, especially if you keep sleeping in."
Chris laughed, a genuine sound that made Matt's glare turn into a small smile before he went back to rifling through the file cabinet.
He turned back to me, pausing to look back over the notes he'd written down. "If i had to guess, I'd say we can probably have it to you by tomorrow evening." he said, looking away from the paper and averting his gaze to instead look me right in the eye. "That work for you?"
I nodded slowly. Suddenly, the issue of a ride home became extremely apparent, and an anxious feeling started to blossom in my chest.
"Good. Just one more thing. . ." he pauses to take the pen cap out of his mouth and place it back on the pen, tapping it against the curve of his hand and grinning wildly at me.
"i'm gonna need your number to let you know when its finished."
He's just asking because he's supposed to; because he literally has to in order for me to get my car back. But regardless, i felt heat rise to my cheeks as i started shifting uncomfortably in place.
"Right," I said, moving to reach for the pen. He points to a blank part of the notepad, tapping lightly to tell me where to write it.
Quickly and shakily, i write out the numbers with dashes. I hand it back to him, and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He rips the sheet off the notepad in one swift motion and folds it in half, placing it in his back pocket.
He glances towards the clock. Its nearing seven. He turns back to me, "d'you have a ride home?"
My eyes went wide. I'm reminded of my attempt to call my dad three times when the truck initially broke down, and how my shoulders slumped in defeat at the sound of his voicemail playing repeatedly.
I glance back over to him, ". . . Not exactly. I'll probably just catch the bu-"
"I can drive you,"
I swallowed, my lips slightly parted in surprise. His grin was still wide, awaiting my response.
It was a sweet offer, really. But considering my house was across town, partnered with the fact that he was literally on the job, i shook my head. "That's really sweet, thank you, but I'm far. And you're working, anyway." He shrugs, glancing at the clock once more. "It's fine, Matt's on desk duty and he's closing tonight. I don't mind."
I chew my lip. I'd be stupid to pass up on a ride, but i barely know this kid, and if my dad sees me rolling up with him and no truck, it wouldn't look great.
And then I think about the hour long bus ride that would be in the near future if I declined.
I screw my eyes shut. "You know what? Why not."
Despite the scenario i was in, my mind was pushing out any and all nerves as I watched Chris collect his things from behind the desk. He pulled his wallet, shop keys and jacket out of a cubby.
The two of us walked back into the garage and over to Matt, who was washing his hands in a sink bellow the tool shelves.
Chris bid goodbye to his brother, who looked at the clock and then frowned, turning the faucet off and reaching for the roll of papers towels.
"You're seriously slacking off? I already covered for you and Nate leaving early last weekend." He complained, discarding the wad of paper towels he'd used to dry his hands into the trash bin below.
Chris shot him a look. "And then i covered your sunday morning shift because you were hungover. You owe me."
Matt rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just put your tools away when you open tomorrow. It drives me fucking insane when you leave them everywhere."
Chris salutes. "Roger that." He turned to me and winked, gesturing to follow him through the garage with a tilt of his head.
I followed behind him as he went out a different exit; this one leading to a parking lot on the back of the building. A large EMPLOYEE PARKING sign hung on the fence near the driveway.
He fiddled with the many keys on his carabiner before finally finding his and walking towards a car near the opening in the gate.
A blue, four-seater, convertible 65' mustang. The light from the setting sun literally reflected off of it. He mindlessly stuck the key into the passenger side door, twisting and pulling it open with a faint click.
He gestured his hand towards the seat playfully, "Ladies first."
I rolled my eyes, placing one foot on the floor of the car and ducking my head to sit down. "How gentlemanly of you,"
He grinned at me, closing the door and walking around the back of the car before popping into the driver's seat.
"This is.. wow." I mutter, admiring the small details and cleanliness of the car as he closed his door and threw his belongings in the back. "Jesus, this is yours?"
He smiled proudly, his tongue darting out to dampen his bottom lip. "All mine,"
His fingers twisted the key into the ignition and the roar of the engine made the car buzz against my feet. He rolled both of our windows down, the summer air blowing smoothly through the car.
His smile was wider and prouder than ever as he glanced into the rear view mirror, throwing an arm over the back of my seat to glance behind him as he reversed. We pulled out of the parking lot and turned left onto the main road, Chris letting the steering wheel slide back into place under his palm by itself once he'd done so.
"You said you were far," he mumbled. "What area are you in?"
The question pulled me back into reality. I'd gotten so distracted by the way he drove so carelessly, like he was completely relaxed and in control of everything movement the car made, like fear didn't even exist to him as he pressed harder onto the gas pedal with his foot, my eyes choosing to ignore the way the tic on the speed meter start to spike.
His jawline was illuminated in the dim light, and the toothpick that was still resting on his lips stayed moving as he spoke gently, waiting patiently for me to answer.
I started giving him directions, and he listened carefully and intently, glancing over to look at me to make sure he understood my instructions. Once we were on the freeway, he went even faster, lane switching if someone in front of him wasn't going as fast as he'd like them to.
Soft giggles left me as he did, basking in the view of his lips parted into a smile, showcasing pearly teeth between pink lips.
Once he pulled onto the off ramp and we were stopped at a red light, he turned to look at me again, the bright red turning the car a faint shade of crimson.
"What time do you need to be back?"
He asked with a tone of voice he hadn't used till now. The sudden lowness caught me off guard as I shrugged, "'Dunno, not for a while."
He hummed in acknowledgement. "You wanna stay on the road for a bit?"
I pull my knees up to my chest and let my head fall against the headrest, a careless smile on my face. "Definitely."
And we did; we ended up back on the highway pretty quickly, blasting music through a speaker Chris had propped against the dashboard.
His speed only got higher and higher as time went on, carelessly resting one hand on the wheel whilst the other gripped the gear shift. At some point, his hand had mindlessly traveled to rest on my upper bare thigh below the hem of my shorts, cold and partially ringed fingers pressing against my skin.
"Will you do me a favor?"
I raised my eyebrows and hummed in response. He gestured towards the glove box. "Theres a pack of camel blue 99s in the glove box, would you grab em for me?"
I bit my lip. "Depends, you sharing?"
"Duh."
I leaned forward, feeling my stomach flip when his hand didn't much as move an inch on my thigh, brushing against my lower stomach as I lurched forward to fiddle with the glovebox.
I propped it open and grabbed the pack and paused, "d'you have a light?"
He nodded. "Should be one in there."
I learned more forward and reached farther back, glancing around before locking my eyes on a silver flip top lighter and grabbing it. Once i lean back up, Chris is pulling into an empty lot. His hand leaves my leg to push the gear into park, and i try not to frown.
I flick the top of the cig carton open and hastily pull one out, dropping it into Chris's palm.
He places it hazardly between his lips and turns to face me, silently asking for me to light it.
I pop the lid of the zippo open and hold the flam to the end of his cig, waiting to pull away until his expression signifies that its lit enough. His expression relaxes as he breathes in before pulling it away from his mouth with two fingers and exhaling, the smoke filling the car.
"If I'm honest, I prefer marlboro reds." I say quietly in an attempt to break the silence, watching Chris flick the ash out the window lazily with his thumb and index finger. He shakes his head. "Camels are undeniably better."
I laugh lightly and raise my eyebrows in amusement. "No accounting for taste, I suppose."
He takes another drag before holding it in between his fingers in front of my face, and Instead of reaching for it, I place my lips around the filter while it's still in his hand. Our eyes lock while I breath in sharper, the cool feel of the smoke filling my chest.
He licks his lips, and for a moment, his eyes dart down to look at mine, and he's starts he's studying my face. I'm doing the same.
His eyes are bright blue, surrounded by thick lashes, which are barely visible with stray pieces of his hair hanging down below the bandana on his head. Freckles lightly paint his noise, and his pink lips are slightly parted as his eyes scan my face.
"I like your piercing," he finally says, pressing his one hand to his eyebrow as if he had one himself. I breathe out the smoke i'd been holding in my lungs and smile at him. He's still looking at it as he speaks again, "Did it hurt?"
I shrug. "Not really," Because it didn't, but also because I'd feel like an idiot saying it did. "Just a pinch."
He nodded slowly. "Hm."
I take another hit from the cig which he's still holding up to my lips. Our faces are closer now. One of my elbows is resting on the center console as I look at him through my lashes.
"You should get one." I say.
He laughs, breathy and genuine. "Yeah? You think so?"
"Mhm," i reach my hand up to graze above his eye with two fingers. "It would look good on you." He watches my movements. "We'd match, too."
He digs his teeth into his bottom lip, finally moving the cig back to his own lips and taking one more long drag before carelessly discarding it out the window.
All too quick, he's facing me again, and he leans even closer. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my face. My heart is thumping loudly in my chest, and a part of me thinks he can hear it.
Before I can even blink, he places his fingers on my chin and tilts his head, smashing his lips against mine hard.
Its all teeth at first, clashing messily as his hand leaves my chin and rests as the base of my neck. My hands are on his face, my fingers messing with the curls at the back of his neck while he grins against my lips.
He lightly bites my bottom lip, taking the opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth. He tastes like cherry and camels, and I feel myself whimpering at the contact.
"Fuck," he mumbles into my mouth, and his tone is exasperated, partly because the console between us is making it harder for him to kiss me like he wants to, and partly because his attempts to pull me close enough for our chests to press together have been unsuccessful.
His hands reach down to tug at the belt loops of my shorts, trying to pull me onto his lap. I pull away for a second to push myself over the console, Chris's grip on my hips staying firm to assist me. I duck to avoid hitting my head on the roof of the car, and Chris giggles lowly.
I finally relax once I'm comfortable in his lap, straddling his legs below me. One of his hands is across my lower half, sliding his hand into my back pocket, and the other rests in the middle of my back, holding me in place.
We're kissing again, and this time it's more lips and tongue then teeth, but he's still lightly tugging at my lip.
I'm tugging at his hair as I push myself closer to his lower abdomen, pressing down, which elicits a groan from him. He pulls away from me, and I try to follow his lips with a whine, but he tugs at the back of my hair lightly so he can press kisses from my jaw down to my neck.
I'm already whimpering as soon as his teeth press against my throat, and he digs them deep, kissing the mark once he's satisfied with the shade of purple its turned before finding a different spot to do the same thing.
"Chris, fuck- please."
I can feel him below me, and it's making me crazy. He doesn't budge, even as I continue to whine breathlessly at him.
He only grins as he continues to nip at my skin, and i felt the smirk on his face against my throat. I tangle my fingers in his hair and tug as a silent plea. "What s' it, baby?"
Baby.
I practically keen at the nickname. He finally pulls away, a string of saliva connecting his lips to his previous spot on my neck. He grins proudly at the marks he's left before looking at me again.
"What d'you want?" his tone is cocky and assertive. His lips look red and bitten, and I start to feel embarrassed at the fact that we were sucking face so lewdly in a literal parking lot.
I want to squirm and writhe away under his gaze, but his knuckle tight grip on me won't let me. I fiddle with the neck of his shirt and avoid looking at him as i whisper, "I need you."
He grins madly. "How d'you need me, sweetheart?"
I lean forward and press my lips back against his, and he entertains for a little before tugging my hair lightly to pull me back. His fingers grip my chin, holding me in place to look at him.
"Tell me what you want."
I brush my hand against his belt buckle. "I wanna suck you off,"
It came out in a mumble, but he understood, nodding somewhat cockily with a shit-eating grin on his lips. A groan left him as he tugged me even closer so our chests were pressed together. "Yeah?"
I nod eagerly, another 'please' ready to escape my mouth as my impatience grows. He ducks his hand between the seat and the door to push it farther back, "On your knees, then."
I obliged immediately, sliding off his lap to rest on my knees below him. My elbows rest on either side of his legs as my hands flew to his belt, unbuckling it and tugging at his jeans and boxers.
He lifted his hips lightly to assist me. I pulled them down until they rested around his ankles, and I feel myself gawk.
He's big. Bigger then I expected.
A nervous feeling bubbles in the pit of my stomach, but the way he's looking down at me through hazy vision makes it vanish even quicker, and I wrap my hands around his length.
"You okay?" He asks, moving his hand to rest on my cheek, his thumb soothingly pressed on my temple.
"No- yeah, i'm good." I breathe. I hover myself over him, finally taking him into my mouth. A string of curses leave him in a hushed breath, and his head moves to rest at the back of my head to coax me farther down.
I pull back slightly, wrapping my lips around his tip and sucking lightly. His chest is rising and falling quickly above me, and his labored breathing is music to my ears.
His cock is heavy on my tongue, and its addicting. I take him farther down my throat, hollowing my cheeks to fit as much of him as i can while my hand is in a fist around his base. I bob my head and twist my hand, looking up at him to see his flushed face as he pants.
"Fuck, you look so pretty like this." He babbles, a throaty moan leaving him when I twist my hand faster, swirling my tongue along his cock as my head rises and falls.
I hum around his dick at the compliment, the slight sting on my scalp from him pulling my hair only pushing me to do more. He pushes me down slightly, and i choke at the burn of his tip making contact with my uvula.
I moan loudly on him at the feeling, tears building in my eyes as the vibration from the noises i'm making cause him to throw his head back, a blissed out expression on his face. "Fuck, so good. Just like that, god."
Drool seeps from the corners of my mouth as I speed up all my movements. Chris is a breathy, moaning mess above me, watching me through lidded eyes as I glance up at him.
He moves his other hand to rest on the side of my face, grinning at my fucked out appearance. "Fucking filthy girl, aren't you, baby." He says through gritted teeth. "You love this, don't you?"
I whine at him, furrowing my eyebrows in pleasure to say "yes', and watching as his eyes roll lightly back in his head when i start to suck lightly at his tip again.
My hand falls from his base to lay on his leg, the other holding the bottom of his shirt in my fist. I try to push my head farther down, whimpering faintly at the stretch.
Chris's hips jerk up lightly at the sensation, causing him to push himself down my throat until my lips hit the base. I start to choke, but I breathe heavily through my nose, screwing my eyes shut and hallowing my cheeks out to stop myself from pulling off.
"Fuck!" he grunts loudly, his grip on my hair turning animalistic. He mindlessly mutters out curses and praise as he pushes my head up and down with his hands, 'good girl', 'don't stop', 'takin' me so good, baby' 'just like that' . . .
My hands are resting completely at his sides as he guides my mouth on his cock, slightly bucking his hips to push himself as far as I can take him. His strokes turn sloppy, and I look up at him again to see him looking at me with a broken glance, bottom lip between his teeth. "Fuck, gonna cum," he gasps.
I begin to swirl my tongue around him, moaning messily on him as if to say, 'in my mouth, please', but he's already reading my mind, digging his nails into my scalp as he spurts coats of white down my throat, an incoherent string of "fuck fuck fuck"'s spilling out of him. Im swallowing as quickly as i can.
I pull off of him with a lewd pop, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I know i look completely ruined, but I'm still focused on catching my breath and looking at Chris's flushed pink face above me.
His hand rests on my face again, and his thumb soothingly rubs my cheek. "You okay? Was that too much?" he asks, his expression full of concern as he wipes the tears from under my eyes.
I smile, leaning into his touch. "I'm good, it was really good."
He nods, smiling dumbly. "Good."
He pulls his jeans and boxers back up, bucking his belt before pulling me off my knees and back onto his lap. He presses a soft, passionate kiss on my lips, and then trails kisses down the side of my face, pulling my hair back off my shoulders as we both catch our breath.
We're both startled by the loud ringing of my phone in the passenger seat. I reach over the console, sighing in relief when i flip it over and see my dad's name at the top of my screen.
I put the phone up to my ear, watching as Chris rubs circles into my side with his cold fingers.
"Hi," I breath out. I listen as my dad apologizes for not answering earlier. He tells me he heard my voicemail and asks if I'm okay. "M' fine, I just wheeled it to a shop a couple blocks over. I'm on the bus home now, should only be a bit."
Chris pouts at me, and i roll my eyes at him. My dad talks for a couple for seconds before hanging up, and i leave my phone in the drink compartment next to Chris's forgotten lighter.
"D'you need to get home?" He asked. I nodded, and he frowns. "I was gonna get you off in the backseat,"
part two? :)
thank you for reading! reblogs are DEEPLY appreciated. I hope you enjoyed. links below !
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#Spotify#sturniolos#sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets#the sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo#matthew sturniolo#mechanics are sexy#smoker chris#jellyfishbug 🌺
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Hiromi is not one to back down from an argument. It’s the lawyer in him plus his inherent desire to always be right, even when he isn’t. He doesn’t necessarily get angry, he isn’t going to raise his voice or swear at you, but he is going to lay out his argument in excruciating detail and expect you to listen. It could be the simplest of little disagreements and Hiromi will treat it like his entire professional reputation is on the line, an imaginary jury of your peers fills the courtroom in his head and what started as a playful butting of heads grows arms and legs, maybe even a second head.
However… there is one surefire way to shut him up mid-flow, and that is to approach carefully and forcibly shove your hand across his mouth. You have to maintain eye contact to ensure it’s working, but it has never failed yet. His intelligent darkly lit eyes mellow, his breathing turns reedy and he mumbles out a moan behind the meat of your palm. Heat rushes to fill his cheeks, the warmth of his breath tickling your fingertips as you arch an eyebrow and lean in closer.
The scratch of his five o’clock shadow grazes at your palm, his eyes bouncing erratically between yours as he lets you walk him backwards toward the bedroom door. You can feel him thickening behind his trousers, his hands antsy to reach out and touch you whilst all those pesky little points he had yet to voice spill quietly out his ears… never to be heard.
The bed creaks under the intensity of your movements, bouncing on his leaking cock with such fervour that you worry you might break either the frame or Hiromi. The man in question huffs into the pillows, sweat rolling freely over his temples as you drape yourself across his chest. “What were you saying, Hiro? I can’t quite hear you now…”
He tries to speak, tries to make any noise at all that isn’t the pathetic whimpers filling the air but you’ve got him beat and the use of dirty underhanded tactics only makes him harder for you. Your teeth skim his nipples, tongue poised to flick them in turn before you return to bearing your weight forward with your hands on his shoulders. The wet ‘pap pap pap’ of your pussy greedily swallowing him down turns those keen whimpers into something only dogs would hear and all he has for you are heart eyes out on stalks and the ability to gulp like a fish out of water.
“That’s what I thought. Listen here, Mr Lawyer man, you are a fantastic attorney but when you’re at home… remember that I’m not your adversary.”
Hiromi moans diligently, nodding his head fervently and gripping at the plush of your hips hard enough that you feel bruises bloom. He’s right at the precipice, you can feel it swelling… his balls drawing tight to his dick. He needs to cum and he’ll do anything to make it happen. Your hand reaches backward, fondling those heavy balls in your palm whilst you roll your hips aggressively back and forth. He cums with a bark, the tendons on his neck taut and straining before he crumples back to the sheets.
“I rest my case…”
an: this came about from a conversation with @pseudowho (yes, this is the calibre of our chats 😂) who I love very dearly.
#delirious writes#higuruma hiromi#higuruma x reader#higuruma hiromi x reader#higuruma smut#hiromi smut#higuruma hiromi smut#jjk smut#jjk x reader
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𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.
singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader
✶The garage gets slammed with clients, and the clear delineation between workplace flirting and PDA is put to the test when stolen kisses in the storage closet aren't enough, over the clothes touching leads to frustration, and getting interrupted in the breakroom leaves Eddie aching.✶
NSFW — smut, porn with plot, dry humping, oral (receiving), pussydrunk!eddie, horny depravity at work, van sex, masturbation, swallowing, teasing, sexual tension, hickeys (giving), reader and eddie are verbally harassed by a customer, protective!eddie, protective!reader, 18+
chapter: 12/20 [wc: 23.7k]
↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12
AO3
Chapter 12: Satanic Mechanic
The storm triggered rising temps.
————
Monday smacked you awake.
Your digital alarm clock wasn’t worth its price tag when the power flickered, and the blinking numbers of 12:00 seared into your tired retinas, really highlighting the fact that the two fat backup batteries hadn’t been replaced since you lived in a dorm. Whatever—It wasn’t that late, just late enough to cause a sweat when you were half hanging out of Robin’s car, wrestling with a spare umbrella while the sleeves of your light gray Champion college sweatshirt were darkening from ice-slushed rain. Oh, and because that wasn’t enough, the bottom of your pants waded through a puddle in the auto shop’s parking lot, too.
Stupid cursed town.
Swearing under your breath, you sped towards the employee door, and your expectation of a teasing remark from Carl about your tardiness lapsed into stark bewilderment.
You shook off your umbrella, and tossed it in the only available corner inside the cramped garage. Between the shuttered doors were four motley muscle cars parked back-to-back in various makes and models from yesteryears, bright colors announcing themselves amply. As you neared one, a quick shadow passed over the floor from the lobby door opening, widening the men’s muffled voices inside into clear conversation, and closing. You turned to greet them, but the words caught in your chest.
Eddie crowded you two steps backwards, away from the windows, and tucked you to the concrete wall where privacy could be had.
Heat stung your cheeks at the sight of your boyfriend of thirty-two hour’s careful attention on you. Thoughts on thoughts on thoughts wore themselves like a fever under your thick winter scarf. The same fingers he fiddled with to release his nervous tension were once tracing your spine. Not two days ago the big pink tongue he pressed to his teeth licked the intimacy between your breasts. Frazzled curls stood from the rest of his hair as if your hands had been through them time and time again. Soft concern edged the beautiful brown of his eyes analyzing your expression as he did when your bodies were entwined on his couch—yet, in this moment, he idled a measured distance away, guilt weighing heavily on his posture.
The tender rot of apology weakened his tone, “Hey, baby. I’m sorry about not calling. My power’s been out since I got home the other night, and I only just got it back this morning. I hope.. I hope that’s okay.” Reading the quick flit of your eyes falling to his hands and back up, his voice erred remorseful, “I promise I would’ve called.”
“Aw, handsome,” you released. Slotting your fingers into the cup of his palms, you narrowed the space between you in a squishy tennis shoe step. “Our phone line’s down too, and the power’s been going off and on. You didn’t think I was mad at you, did you? Even if something came up and you couldn’t get around to it, I would’ve understood.” The shelf of his shoulders were dotted with rain. “Were you pacing outside?” Meaning: were you so anxious you made yourself nauseous?
“No, no, this is just from dropping Adrie off. Uhm, I actually.. I know I look nervous—couldn’t help it once I saw you, ha,” he broke into a shy giggle, already sticking his gaze on his thumbs engulfing your knuckles. “But uhm, I actually wasn’t worried about you being upset with me. I know you said that when I dropped you off, but I’m getting better at not, ah, freaking out. Thinking of the worst case scenario, shit like that.” A glance through his lashes, and his lips stretched into a sly grin, rounding his cheeks. “I know we’re good. You and me.”
“Yeah, we’re good.” You leaned in, a hint of mischievousness marking your suggestive tone, “More than good.”
“More than good,” he repeated in a smiley mumble. “Just didn’t want you gettin’ the impression I’m some jerk who forgets to call his girl.”
His girl, his girl, his girl.
“I’d never think so poorly of the sweetest man alive.”
Magic happened. There, in his labored swallow, and your fluttery blink. An invisible pull encouraging your bodies closer, sliding your shoulder along the cold wall of your workplace. Seeking heat where it was found against his belly, standing the peach fuzz on your arms at attention from a single brush of your fingertips over his jumpsuit. Want, need; a wish to relieve the burn of pride in your chest, longing to reward him for his progress of keeping a level head when he could’ve spiraled into negative thoughts, yearning to kiss his rosy cheeks aglow with respect. But under the guide of his excessively gentle thumb strokes over your knuckles, a truth was earned. To him, it didn’t feel appropriate to kiss where people could see. Where people could fawn, pry, ask questions, put pressure on something so new. The desire was there. Oh, the desire was there in his gaze dipping to your lips, and staying.
Remembering Saturday, you inhaled sharply. “Oh! I didn’t tell you the good news. Robin got a call the other day, and—”
The voices in the lobby grew. One gruffed out—“Hey, you two?”—and you released each other’s hands, jolting apart. “Wanna get up to date on this shitstorm of a week?” Mr. Moore asked, motioning you both inside with two succinct waves of his clipboard.
A feeble look was exchanged from Eddie to you. The good news would have to wait. Talking would have to wait. Discussing the events from the weekend and all the pretty words he wanted you to hear while his mouth was nurturing the intimate skin beneath your paint-stained crewneck would have to wait.
Following your boss to the circle of employees gathered in front of your desk, Carl and Kevin said hello with raised eyebrows, and Mr. Moore flipped through the sheets on his clipboard, catching you up to speed. “So, lucky us," he said, tone betraying the luck, "the storm hit Springfield harder than Hawkins, so the annual Classic Car Show was moved down here this weekend." Rolling his hand, he grumbled—guy said the ol' historic buildings downtown would look nice in photos—"Anyway, all those uppercrust sons’a are gonna start droppin’ their cars off here for last minute maintenance, or whatever damn hell Roy was sayin'. He sent what parts he had, but we'll have to put in an emergency order, and of course the damn phone is still out."
Mr. Moore targeted you. "We can not," he stressed, "can not accept normal customers this week with all these yuppies comin' in. Unless it’s an emergency, just turn them away, or point 'em towards Thatcher's if they need their tires rotated. Got it?"
So, that explains why Eddie's eyes were welded shut in preparation for the arduous day ahead. The cavity between your hand and his could’ve been filled with a supportive squeeze, maybe a silent assurance in the passing touch, but you tore your gaze from the myriad of grievances wrinkling his expression, and answered your boss, "Got it."
Papers were divvied, sighs were had. With a hard clap of Mr. Moore’s meaty hands on each of your shoulders, he guaranteed a generous bonus for the extra work, and dismissed the group. You pivoted to collecting mail-in order forms for car parts in case the phones didn't work by the afternoon, and the men went off to the garage where hours were lost to the heavy clank of tools making clockwork.
As the day yawned to noon, Eddie’s ears were ringing. He fetched his Walkman from the car, and blasted music through its shitty foam cups in effort to destroy his hearing with something preferable. Amongst the mayhem of cars rolling out of the service bay and being immediately replaced by another, he curled his fingers in a small wave at his favorite Office Administrator, but you missed it on account of the old man at your counter needing the keys for his ‘57 Chevrolet Bel Air.
It was a lonely day. A busy day. An aching day where the itch to connect with each other led to melancholy behind every antsy glance through the windows gone unmet.
Your lunch was a limp sandwich eaten between visiting clients, and when Eddie ate, he did it with his back facing you, bent over the work table on the far wall, mixing cleaning solution for an engine block in between sips of Campbell's tomato soup.
In the wait for a muscle car to be exchanged for a truck requiring new brake pads belonging to the mom with two kids in the lobby who needed it for work the next day, Eddie sought you for comfort in the breakroom, but you had walked to the post office after the rain let up, and by the time you got back, you shrugged off his jacket, picked up a stack of clean rags from the storage closet, and used them as an excuse to enter the noisy garage.
Handing off the rags was the closest either of you had been since that morning. Skin contact was bittered by the barrier of his black nitrile gloves, and the interaction was stained by grime sketching the fine lines of his tired face, stress preying on his mood when you pulled away. He needed you.
Miss you, you mouthed.
Miss you, baby, he returned.
Eddie went back to his project. You went back to organizing paperwork. When you checked the phone line, it wasn’t even joy which influenced your forced smile at him through the window. It was just more work when the dial tone answered.
Busy, busy, busy. No respite for conversation, not even between the mechanics. Kevin’s goodbye was offered as the sun hung low in the sky, touching the tree line. Carl knocked on the hood of the car David was working on to get his attention before clocking out for the night. In retrospect, Mr. Moore was the only one who held a proper conversation with Eddie, telling him he’d be in his office for a bit, and he’d stay late to help on the final set of cars.
In the last slants of daylight dragging through tree branches, Eddie focused on the Mustang Mach 1 in front of him. Sun at his back, wiping sweat from his forehead. Wasting his time on small detail work he wasn’t normally paid to do, yet finding some fulfillment in clearing the nooks of leaf debris and polishing excess grease out of the crannies, salivating at the reward at the end of it: a fat check.
Indeed, he was lost in fantasies of how he’d spend his money when a commotion invaded his mind palace, infiltrating the blank air of his cassette clicking to the end of its tape. Eddie pushed the headphones down to his neck, squinting at the windows to the lobby.
His sweetheart’s face was set with bored malice. An air of disregard, but annoyed all the same. Softly narrowed eyes, loose shoulders, crossed legs. Listening to the man who leaned over the heightened front of your receptionist desk with a pointed finger you didn’t care for, and moving your mouth in a rehearsed response. The man’s voice raised, tanned skin gone blotchy. Spitting mad. You flinched at his irate gestures nearing too close for comfort.
Instant. Adrenaline whipped Eddie forward. Muscles flexed into action, constricted, strained, prepared and loaded, roiling with power ripping open the glass door, sending loose papers flying off the black tool cart, including the one with the man’s name he recognized—
How could he forget?
Square jaw, springy curls cropped close to his skull. Light brown hair extending to the shitty wisps on his upper lip not any better than a grandma could grow. Ditch the letterman jacket for a suit and tie all he wanted, but there was no mistaking Andy, best friend of Jason and player on Hawkins’ High basketball team who helped scar Eddie Munson’s frail reputation after that fateful party he never went to.
Someone he was lucky to dodge at most preschool functions by virtue of his son being nursery-aged.
“—It’ll be ready tomorrow,” you finished in uniform curt.
“Listen better, bitch, I don’t have time for—”
“Hey!” Eddie’s voice packed the tiled room in an authoritative boom with the same fury he entered, commanding the space, possessing the attention as papers floated to the ground behind him. Shifting in his stance, his heart pounded against the strict discipline he leashed himself to, gaining control of his volume for your sake. Quieting to a seethe, he forced out, “You can’t speak to her that way.”
The subject of his ire slid his snakey gaze to him, deducing his long hair, his cheap cassette player, his jumpsuit. Sizing him up. Assessing him. Casting judgements.
Holding reign with a steady pupil on his target, Andy straightened himself from the desk. His expression wore neutral, hands pushing himself away from the ledge and rolling his shoulders with casual controlled dominance. His ugly red tie slipped against his white poly-cotton button down shirt at the motion, following his slow turn towards someone he thought so lowly of. “Figures you’d be here,” he said, jaw jutted in a lax chew as if he were sucking on a toothpick. “This the only place that’d hire a scumbag like you? Hm?”
Fingers stretched and flexed. Veins coursed with heated blood. Sweaty palms were crushed closed.
But it wasn’t Eddie who responded—no—it was his little Mouse.
Jumping from your seat, your chair rolled into the rackety filing cabinets behind you, causing a scene with your hand striking the desk. “You can’t talk to him that way!”
Andy arched an eyebrow at your bark, however, he propped his elbow up in a lazy lean on your binder-clipped manila folders, and held a mutual gaze with the man opposite him. “Sweetie,” he patronized, addressing you with a smug crook of his lips aimed to taunt Eddie further, “this devil worshiper here preys on pretty girls like you. Don’t defend his honor. He’s got none.” With a cocky tongue click, he licked his bottom lip, reveling in the storm brewing in his doormat’s eyes. There was history in the words he chose. They were crafted for The Freak of Hawkins specifically. The rumors he was known for. The lies. Also, the truths.
Testosterone suggested violence in Eddie’s deliberate refusal to blink, but anger did not darken his cheeks in reveals of red as they oft do, nor did he rear a fist like you wanted to. Hard pumps of aggression strained the tendons in his neck, creating shadows along the thick blue vein leading to his strong jaw, but otherwise much of his reaction was reserved, contained in his stoney expression and hidden beneath his biding posture, waiting. Assessing. For years he endured his name being spat on, and he was only beginning to understand the toll of surrendering.
“You’re new here, aren’t cha?” Andy spoke to you, but matched the trained stare across from him. “There’s no need to stand up for this creep. He’s just some lowlife who begs for table scraps, and still can’t coerce girls into giving him the time of day. Kinda pathetic, don’t ya think?” Tone sneering to a scoff, he added to Eddie, “S’kinda miracle you managed to procreate.”
“Shut up!”
This anonymous man regarded you finally. Confusion hung heavy on his brow, curious as to why you were so adamant about protecting someone like him. Then, he dropped his head to the side, enough to see you, and raked his glare over your body, pausing his study on one place in particular.
Your jaw dropped at the audacity, throwing a hand over your stomach on instinct.
Andy involved you with a nod. “This another chick you knocked up?”
Quickfire, Eddie snatched starchy fabric and knotted silk in his fist, dragging him in by his tie, smothering his wet grunt of surprise with a vice grip on his shirt. They were the same height, but when pitted against steel toe boots, leather loafers lost. Not that he needed the extra inch. A different danger lurked in Eddie’s minimal movements, reeling the other man closer without much effort. Enough intimidation lived in his clenched jaw and quivering muscles to show he was not tucking tail and rolling over.
“Hey now,” Andy rasped against the solid threat of knuckles digging into the hollow of his throat, taming him from uttering more. He raised his hands in defense, manicured nails atop soft fingers atop softer palms.
“Watch your mouth,” Eddie enunciated, slow and warning.
Knocked off status by the brave chin challenging him, Andy’s nostrils flared, but his amusement didn’t waver. Under pressure, he wrung the corner of his mouth, lifting his fuzzy upper lip in sly charm while he puzzled out the dynamic between the cool-headed receptionist who’d gone rabid at a bit of joking, and the blue-collar mechanic who abstained from standing up for himself, but sure as hell did when it involved you.
A smirk dared to stretch across his face.
Andy tucked his eyebrows in, and pleaded, “Don’t tell me you already brought more annoying spawn into this world.”
Visions of red gushed over Eddie’s scarred, dirty knuckles, but the reality was ripped from him before he explored the sweet relief.
Dying to get your hands on a ghost from his past, you competed for the shirt on Andy's back. Grabbing his shoulder, you tore him from your beloved’s grasp, slinging him backwards on stumbling feet. You didn’t let the fucker catch his footing before you rammed your shoulder into him with all your scrappy might. “You wish you were half as good of a man as he is!” Growled through bared teeth and trembling with malice. “You’ll never compare. You can’t! I feel sorry for everyone you’ve ever met.” Snarled from darker depths than witless gossip about a man you adored, slapping your hands hard on his chest, shoving him. “Get out!” Shove. “Out!” Push. "And if you ever—ever!—bring up Adrie again, I'll fucking.."
His wild eyes searched for Eddie across the room, but you demanded respect.
Harder shove, striking palms where it hurt—making him cough. “Get the fuck out!”
His steps faltered, disoriented by the polarity of the quiet bitch behind the desk being the one to catch him off guard, attacking him before he could gather his dignity and stop. fucking. tripping. “You little—!”
“Out!” You cut a fierce line with your arm, pointing at the streets. “Leave! Out! Now!” Shove.
Scrambling, slipping on the wet tile, the metal corner of the door handle bit his squishy palm, pulling a hiss from gritted teeth. Shove. Point. Bark. He yanked the door open with a slew of words you’d only tolerate from Eddie when he said them in the heat of your bodies joining in sweet passion, and you let him know with a guttural grunt, pushing Andy out and into the parking lot where a puddle of ice water awaited his shoes. Squish, squish, squelch. He found his footing on the cracked pavement, huffing and puffing with haughty swipes at his clothes, dusting them off on the way to his Cadillac.
You followed his retreat with two proud middle fingers, shouting, “Take that ugly hood ornament and shove it up your ass!” When his shoulders squared like he was going to turn around, you yelped and scurried inside, locking the door only to hear him spit on the ground. Gravel crunched afterwards, and you assumed the tire screech was him leaving.
Dry gulp. Pounding heart. Aching wrists. Loud blood rushing everywhere. Vision vibrating from the adrenaline pulsing between your ears. You got your bearings, and turned to Eddie—except, he wasn’t there. No one was in the lobby. No one was in the garage, either. Down the hall there was a sulking shadow cast across the floor, growing smaller as it sat down.
You went towards the breakroom, passing by Mr. Moore’s head peeking out of his office. Creases from a notebook marked his cheek. Groggy and confused, he asked, “You handle whatever that was?”
“I did.”
“Well,” he shrugged. “Good on ya.” He shrank back into the dark room, returning to his nap.
Approaching the round table with caution, you picked the plastic chair next to Eddie and sat gingerly, noiselessly. Hands folded, upper body turned, waiting for him to speak first. And when he didn’t, you prodded. “Are you okay?”
Eddie unlocked his twined thumbs, and dropped a heavy hand on your knee, patting you. “Yeah, I’m okay, baby,” he replied softly. He didn’t pull his gaze from the wall, blinking only when he brought himself out of his ruminations to pat you again. Blank expression, hollow. Legs spread wide, ruling the space while your thighs were tucked tight together, same as any day you’d share lunch while he brainstormed a campaign idea, writing the story in his head and forgetting to hold a conversation with you. But his silence separated you. You needed more from him.
“Do you want a hug?” you asked.
Pat, pat. “Nah, I’m good, I promise,” he said with a bit more sureness lifting his tone.
Staring holes into the side of your boyfriend's face for far longer than it took to lose faith in telepathy, you swallowed through the scratchy rasp taken hold of your throat after yelling at a customer, and guided him, “Can I have a hug?”
“Oh shit, right, sorry!” The cluelessness jumped off of him as he sat up and wrapped his arms around you, scooping you to his chest. Your cheek picked up a healthy amount of dirt when sliding past his, and his headphones smoothed most of his hair from entering your mouth, but as sweaty and filthy the hug was, his crushing hold on you was everything a platonic coworker could ask for after being verbally harassed. A forearm behind the shoulder blades, a kind splay of fingers on the mid-back. Polite. “I’m sorry he yelled at you.”
Arms trapped against his chest, you bunched the collar of his coveralls in your fists, and he hummed into the comfort of your reciprocation, no matter how covert while your boss was one door down.
“S’okay,” you whispered. Nudging towards his ear, you smeared the sweat at his hairline onto your temple in a blessing. “My first job was at a McDonald’s drive thru. I was fourteen. I’m used to men in business suits yelling at me.” Caught between a sympathy snort and cringe, he offered another apology and pulled his face away.
His eyes and smile went soft, losing their strength from a different emotion trickling in. “Should I have decked that guy? Did you want me to do that? Did you want me to stand up for you, and knock ‘im out?”
“And risk you getting an assault charge on your name? Uh, no. I’m more than capable of standing up to a guy who won’t hit back because I’m a woman.”
Nodding against his ego, he took a moment to mull it over, and dropped into a serious tone, “I don’t want it to seem like I was letting him walk all over me, either. Not that long ago I would’ve freezed up. Probably would’ve sat there, taken it, and fixed his car while he watched. Then I would’ve gone home and cried about it because I’d be so fucking mad at myself for not dislocating his jaw. But,” he paused to run his tongue over the back of his teeth, settling the anger he harbored after the years of unapologetic abuse he tolerated.
He exhaled in a two-count, inhaled on three.
Collecting himself, sincerity replaced the animosity. “But since me and you have started hanging out, I can see how wrong he is, and it just—sorta–doesn’t bother me anymore, y’know? Like, I don’t even have to think about it, I know I’m not those things he said.” He strummed his thumb over your shoulder, soothing the lingering fight shivering through your body, invoking care in his words to calm your racing heart, and his. “I kinda lost it when he brought you and Adrie into it, and I’m glad you intervened when you did, before I did something I regretted, but I’m sorry for what he said. Or what he was, ah, implying about you..”
“Wasn’t really an insult, anyway.”
“Hm?”
“You know, as if it’d be a bad thing to be—uh, uh..” Your stomach clenched from the impact of his gaze falling to it. The sentence would never be finished, and it didn’t need to be. Your mindless chatter proved your subconscious thoughts loud and clear. It wouldn’t be an insult to be pregnant with your child.
Panic prickled your nervous system hummingbird fast. Slews of mortification reached your eyes, urging him not to draw conclusions based on something you blurted on the spot, because—because—just—Jesus Christ, man, please move on.
Shifting topics with more tact than his faintly stuttered exhale would suggest, he shook the stiffness from his posture by clearing his throat, and narrowed his eyes in a curious squint. Dropping his head to you, his fingers skimmed the clasp of your bra band through your sweater, and one of his anxieties was stroked into the relationship with a pivotal question, “Can you tell me, are there cameras in here?”
Without looking, you thought of the layout. “No, there’s just the two outside. One facing the entrance, the other facing the intersection. Why—umph?” He stole the concern from your lips.
Crashing mouth on mouth, he moaned at the relief of having you after a shitty day, and you doubled his vigor, dragging him in by his clothes until it hurt. Spine bent, hips to hard plastic, lips smashed against teeth, joints leading to your strained fingertips twisted above his embroidered name tag. You kissed him until it ached, until he was sated, until lungs burned for breath. It was the best change of subject, because when Eddie flirted his bottom lip along yours after you broke for air and his spit mixed with tangy salt on your tongue and gritty earth between your teeth, you wondered if the primal emotion steeped in his heavy-lidded eyes was the result of the same phrase repeating in his head as yours. Knocked up.
“Do you think it’s okay if we kiss like this? As long as we’re alone?”
“Yeah,” you guessed. “I think it’s okay if we’re alone. Not while customers are out there, or in front of the guys. We should be good, if that’s what you want.”
“Yeah,” he repeated. “I’d like that.”
You accepted his forehead against yours, feeling him sag with a tired groan. Exhausted from responsibilities, emotionally drained and succumbing to the crook of your neck, depending on you to rejuvenate him with tiny, smiley pecks at the top of his ear. Poor man.
As usual, you were the bearer of his weight, trusted to hold him up and be the pillar of strength as his arms fell to your hips, hands at the waistband of your jeans, ambitions decidedly pious as his fingertips explored the ridge of a stretchmark on your lower back. “Ed?” You tucked some loving caresses through the hair at the base of his nape, working circles into his oily roots. “I never got to tell you my good news.”
“Oh!” He piped up, coming into focus, face alight with excitement from your giggle.
“Bobbie got the call, and our apartment is ready!”
There was hardly a predictability to how Eddie would react to things. Sometimes sharing stories about your past in New York would earn his disinterest; sometimes he was eager to listen. Talking about the future was the same. Sometimes his gaze drifted faraway when you brought up the potential of your favorite Chinese restaurant closing before you could have the #4 special again, and sometimes he needled you about learning to drive before he finds you and your bike crumpled in a ditch on the side of the road one of these days.
But worry not, the sunshine grin breaking across his lips warmed you in all the right places.
“No shit?” he released in a breathless, excited laugh. “No more living with the Buckley’s, huh?”
“Mhm! No more competition while solving the Wheel of Fortune, but I think I’ll live. Especially if it means having my own bathroom.”
“Nice, nice, nice. And, uh,” he broke off to trace a pattern on your pants, “And, if I may ask because I’m an upstanding gentleman who wants to lend his strength without the expectation of reward, when exactly do you move in?”
“This weekend.”
“Oh,” he flattened. Voice monotone—Oh. Also known as ‘fuck’ or ‘damn.’ “Corroded Coffin has a gig in Indy this weekend. Drive there Saturday morning, come back Sunday around 3, maybe 4AM, if I rush.” He started mumbling to himself, “But, maybe—if Wayne can watch Adrie on Sunday, I could still— Or if she stays where I can see her and doesn’t get in the way, she can come, and I’ll help bring in big furniture, some heavy boxes. Set up your bed for you, the TV, uh, does the place come with a fridge? I could do that too. Make sure all your outlets work. Could hang some stuff up for you, help you decorate.” You sighed in a way where he’d get the hint to shut up.
He frowned. “What?”
“You don’t need to help us, we’ve got it figured out, but I was trying to tell you the news this morning because—” Quick high-pitched beeps from a Buick made your point. Eddie swiveled around to peek down the hall at Robin’s car parked out front, headlights beaming through the windows. You enunciated for effect, “Because we’re going furniture shopping and packing every night this week, so I’ve gotta clock out early, before the stores close.”
A heavy dose of disappointment jaded his hand falling limp over your thigh. “So, not only do we not get to see each other during work this week because I’m buried under cars owned by dickheads who should take pride in servicing their own vehicles, but you can’t stay late, either?” he summarized to your apologetic smile.
“I’m sorry,” you began, grazing your knuckle along the powdery soot lining his jaw like stubble. Incited by more honks, you picked up the pace, and fit his face to your palms, thumbing his cheeks; collecting him, lifting his chin, guiding him to your lips.
Two hums converged, harmonizing. His handsome nose mashed against yours in order to steal kiss after kiss as two people should when huddled in a private room away from their boss. Sympathetic to his cause, you resisted the urgency of the ticking clock, and worked your hips into his hold, swaying all the closer, consuming the dearness of his prayer when your fully clothed body stood between his legs, melting his stress away.
“Should get going,” you mumbled, brushing through his hair with each subsequent glide of his desperate tongue making it harder to leave.
Instead of a honk, a car door shut, and you pictured Robin stalking up to the door with her lips rolled in, gesturing animatedly at her watch.
Your muscles posed to take a step away from Eddie, but he climbed his hands to your waist, refusing to let go. “Wait! Wait!”
“What? What?” you mimicked.
“We didn’t get to talk about what happened over the weekend,” he insisted, and you took pity on him, raising your brows with a caveat grin telling him he should make this quick. “I wanted to say that our date was perfect. Like, amazingly perfect. Not just the, ah, obvious part, but watching movies and making dinner together was special to me. As dumb as it sounds, even washing dishes together was special to me.”
The bare circles on his cheeks where your thumbs wiped the dirt away plumped up from his grin.
“And then the way you took care of Adrie,” fondness rushed in, eclipsing the fatigue in his voice, “baby, you’re beyond perfect for that. I couldn’t have asked for anything better. You got her to stop crying when I couldn’t—Yes, I can hear her knocking—and you did everything just so exactly right, and I’m so fucking grateful for you, and, wait! Before you go,” he begged you, laughing into another lip-smack on your forehead. You backed away until he stood up, face still wedged between your palms, coerced into following you into the hallway so your best friend didn’t think you’d gone missing without a trace. “I’ll try not to do the whole crying-my-eyes-out and then spilling-my-guts-to-you thing every time we’re together.. No promises, though.”
Almost to the door, you continued to walk backwards, advancing him until the last second when you had to let go. You teased him, “If it becomes a habit, I’ll put ice cream on the grocery list, and we can sob it out together at my place like real friends do. Sound good?” Umbrella, purse, chapstick—check. “See you tomorrow, handsome,” you said on your way out. Eddie filled the doorframe, casting a sharp eye around the parking lot while returning your adoring goodbye.
He curled his fingers in a guilty wave at Robin.
She, with her keen nose, bent to sniff at you, and commented overly loudly, “Your sweatshirt smells like Camels.”
————
Tuesday was a strong, steady build in pressure.
Privacy could be had in the public space between buildings where cars passed on either side, puttering at their leisurely pace before slowing to a stop when the intersection lights flipped red. You bounded up to Eddie carrying two waxed paper cups filled with morning energy, beaming brighter than the dawning rays glancing off the brick alleyway. “Hey! Got you a little somethin’.” That, along with the rocks crunching under your shoes, was his only warning before you were forcing a drink into his hand, and slipping your other arm inside his unzipped jacket, squeezing his middle.
He rocked on his footing and laughed, collecting your head to his chest with a firm palm behind your neck. Your bodies swayed together, ear pressed to the source of his voice; his choppy cadence drawn tight from the sudden rise in eagerness to tuck his chin and mash kisses atop your hair. “Hey, sweetheart,” he breathed, tinted with a stutter from surprise. “You got me coffee?” Spinning it in his hand, he read the shop’s logo stamped onto the cardboard sleeve and put the lid to his nose, smelling the steam piping through the hole. “Mmm, a latte. You didn’t have to go and get me something special like that.”
“I wanted to since I was too busy to call you last night,” you apologized. “Thought you could use the extra caffeine, too.”
Bathed in the teasing glow of sun, you lifted your cheek from the thick scent of burnt tobacco baked into his coveralls, and swam to the heady surface of smoke enriching the crisp air. Raising your nose higher, though, there wasn’t a cigarette hanging from his mouth.
Fresh mint followed the thin fog escaping his lips in a visible puff of breath.
Eddie kissed you deep. Wrigley’s Spearmint coated the flavor on his tongue as he dragged it over your bottom lip and across your teeth. The recent ad campaign targeting smokers sponsored his confident lick into your mouth. Lazy and casual, relaxing his arm around your shoulders. Hot coffees tucked to his chest. Pocket below his name tag stuffed with the red and white packaging of foil sticks next to his lighter and Camels, finishing up his morning habit with a clean taste now that he gained certain privileges at work.
“Could definitely do with a pick-me-up from my girl,” he mushed en route to your cheek, pulling away to take the first sip of his coffee and ending with a satisfied mmm.
You vied for his approval. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Another sip, another warm ahh fanning your cheeks. His one-track mind instilled bravery in his hand sliding down from your shoulders to the roundness of your ass, groping your hips flush against the metallic clink of the button snaps closing his jumpsuit, bringing you to him.
Regarding you down the length of his nose, he dipped his smoker’s rasp into something rougher, deeper, resonating from the courage in his chest, “Y’know, I used to worry about making things weird at work if I made a move on you and it wasn’t appreciated–”
“Oh?” you interrupted, pointing above you. “Do you.. Do you not see the flashing sign over my head begging you to ask me out?”
“Hush,” he reprimanded you with a wolfish spank over your back pocket. “What I’m saying is that I’m startin’ to see the perks of workin’ together.” He flicked his eyes up to survey the end of the alley, minding the crawl of traffic passing by. Any Hawkins citizen could turn their head and see you two together; fronts touching in the indecent way coworkers shouldn’t. Stomachs brushing in the intimate way acquaintances wouldn’t. Faces nearing, warmth radiating from his full lips holding steady above your silent plea in the eager way friends might not. Hands taking what they want—smooth and strong alike, improper filth—grabbing in the coarse way sweethearts do.
Eddie’s fingers followed the crease at the bottom of your ass cheek, cupping himself a handful, and drawing you into his nicotine and menthol kiss. You wrung a fistful of the back of his coveralls, using him for weak-kneed stability, yanking until fabric strained against the snap clasps, making gaps to where his shirt showed underneath.
Huddled, coffee cups captured in the embrace, your bodies buzzed drunk on indulgence.
In the echoey distance, a shutter door rolled open. “Perks gotta wait, I’m afraid,” you moped, falling short of getting swept into the intoxicating trap throbbing between your thighs when he groaned at the heavy chain rattling, locking one door into place before moving onto the next.
He shook his head, sighing in genuine annoyance at the few minutes you had alone, now over. “Guess we’ll have to sneak around if we want to see each other this week.”
“Yeah?” you drew out, thick and sweet like honey, walking your fingers up his chest. “Need me that badly?” you questioned, mawkish and innocent. “Need me to beat up your bullies, and kiss you better?”
Playful spite painted his grin. “Is that too much to ask for? They’re workin’ me to the bone here, babe. I think I deserve a little pick-me-up after replacing a heater core.”
The second service door creaked and clanked at the top of its slot.
“A little pick-me-up, huh?” you repeated, earning a nose-scrunched amusement at the quick peck you offered him. “Like that?”
“Just like that,” he confirmed, already against your mouth for more.
Just like that—
Even footfalls of heavy boots thudded closer.
Giddy kicks of excitement electrified your nerves. The thrill of sneaking around gripped, bound, and knotted your stomach. Eddie, intending to steal one last treat before his fingers and wrists were fatigued from labor, rocked you forward with his strong palm, but he too was spurred by the endorphin rush, hauling your hips in with too much enthusiasm and causing you to discover more than he’d meant to.
Swiftly separating, backs to scratchy brick, the third shutter door dislodged from the dusty ground and began its clattery ascent. Cool, calm, casual. Racing-hearted coworkers.
Hello, Mr. Moore. Fine day, isn’t it? Dotted cloudy sky with plenty of sun, no rain. Yes, I’ll get started on a pot of coffee in just a minute.
Your boss walked away.
You looked at your boyfriend. Waxy to-go cup poised at his puckered lips, eyes nearly closed to mirthful little crescents and twinkling from your collective shared secrets which grew exponentially. Plunging thoughts, yet you kept your gaze high, deciphering his devilish features instead of analyzing the outline below the waistband of his dark gray coveralls leading to his hand was in his pocket, picturing Eddie’s cock in his fist before noon.
Rock hard only from kissing.
He mocked you lightly—teacher’s pet, people pleaser— “Better get goin’, sweetheart.”
Your features arched to the tune of sarcasm on your tongue, asking him a question he refused to answer with anything but a smirk, “Why? Need some alone time?”
————
Wednesday ripened like boozy fruit.
Thick winter layers were shed for lightweight counterparts; canvas jackets shucked after a cup of coffee, breaking free from the hug of warmth before it riled a worse sweat than the impulses caused.
Just like that—
Treats throughout the day in between vintage cars and pretentious clients. Exploring the perks of a stolen peck in the breakroom after Kevin shuffled out. The favor of a massage along the knotted muscles between his shoulder blades when crouched behind an Impala, where you were changing the trash liners at the workbench, and he was counting lug nuts. Silly benefits like you thanking him in a kiss to your palm, blown from behind your desk after he delivered a stack of invoices, to which he mimed catching it and pressing it to his cheek, walking backwards into the garage in a lazy stride, embracing his dopey grin. “Corny,” he said that time. “Shh, baby,” he said another, when his wandering hand landed in a squeeze on your ass, and your squeal of delight peaked higher than he was comfortable with in the hallway outside your boss’ office, spiking hues of cassis wine across his nose.
Innocent snacks. Quick low-risk indulgences.
That’s how it started, anyway.
“Psst,” you got Eddie’s attention as he strolled past the storage closet on his way to the breakroom for his Chef Boyardee lunch. His elbow jutted a big angle from stretching his tricep, looking like Rosie the Riveter in his royal blue coveralls and red bandana on his head.
When his expression remained exceptionally oblivious upon seeing you peeking out of the narrow room housing dusty metal shelves lined with car parts, you snagged him by his grimey sleeve and dragged him inside. With two people crowding the shoebox shaped space, running into the cardboard boxes of windshield wipers you’d yet to put away was inevitable, as was Eddie ducking around the pull string for the single lightbulb dangling from the ceiling. Your eyes itched and your throat scratched, but with everyone's breaks being staggered to ensure there was someone out in the bay and someone available to answer customer’s questions at all times, your loneliness was agonizing, and his sly smile accentuating his dimple knew it.
“Yeah, sweet stuff?” Already, the lure. The bait of his tone. Dry rasp in his overused voice, hoarse from yelling over the grind of a powertools.
The heavy door crept closed behind him, ajar enough to catch shadows. You backed to the furthest wall. He trailed, brushing his stained fingertips on his hips to rid them of excess motor oil before touching his girl.
But, before he could lift your chin in an overdue kiss, you stopped him dead in his tracks. “Thought you could use a pick-me-up,” you said, breathy and thin, too high-pitched and fluttery to be sultry. Butterflies had been building in your belly since you first had this idea at your desk, erupting into swarmy impatience as the timing never worked out and you couldn’t get him alone without one of the guys noticing, or a customer leaning over to ding the bell next to your pen cup, breaking you from your daydream.
Eddie was still a step away, raising his arm from his side, when a beautiful sight swallowed his pupils whole.
A shiver grasped your middle.
Sweat met cool air, erupting goosebumps along your ribs, tightening your nipples to stiff peaks. The hem of your thin sweater stayed gathered at the top of your chest, hands splayed to keep it in place, helping frame the generic black bra. You didn’t enter the day prepared to show off your lamest lingerie, but Eddie’s stare was glued to the plain dull shine of polyester stretched over cups covering the full range of your goods as if they were worthy of the French term usually relegated to something not designed for comfort.
He wiped his hands more energetically on his chest.
No pet names, no clever remarks crafted to make you melt. No swoony lines, no verbal compliments from his handsome mouth hung on a dumbfounded gape. No thoughts, wit, or brainpower. Everything vanished the moment you took his wrist, and smoothed his palm to your breast.
Suave, he was not. Eddie giggled like a teenager—elated, ecstatic to be touching a pair of boobs as if it were his first time. You pitied him in a chastising snort, hopelessly fallen for his big grin, and helped his other hand. Large palm, calluses dragging on the fabric. Cups too thick and opaque to ogle what was beneath. But he was mesmerized all the same. He fitted the stretch of his fingers across that which you arched into his hold, and ran his thumb over the softness. His knuckles and tendons flexed as he did so, moving under the pressure of your heavy suggestion, sliding his hand down so he cradled the bottom and lifted, giving him more area to explore—
Your inhale came sharp and sweet.
Eddie throbbed.
He checked your reaction, repeated the motion. Found the hard bud under the layer, and trapped it between the edge of his thumb, rocking it to the long side of his index finger. Your body leaned into the feeling, eyebrows drawn, bottom lip pushed out and freshly licked. He learned to do it again. Again. More. Harder. Shimmery praise collected in the corners of your eager eyes, heavy lids and batting lashes forced open to watch the confidence in his movements grow. Faster rubs, heavier pets. Kneading what you gave him. Drawing quick, simple breaths from your pretty mouth as he concentrated on circling his thumbpad around the point of pleasure, using his nail to skim over it, dragging a lurch from your core.
“Eddie.” His name tipped into a moan hummed through your nose.
The stuffy room heightened your fluster. Eddie burned. Furnace body, ember hands stoking your fire. Ends of his bangs coming to a damp point above his brows. Dewy skin beneath his diligent strokes over the polyester cups. The squish. The yearn. The need for cold metal shelves to be pressed into your backside, positioning himself against your front.
“Like it when I do that, baby?” he asked, deep and husky for no other reason than to hear your voice pitch when he pinched your nipples, elusive as they were from the slippery fabric.
You pushed your sweater higher, flaunting your arms closer. The amount of gratification coming from his thumbing was small, but the fun of doing it in a closet while on the clock had you oversensitive. Anticipation swelled your fat tongue, slurring your question with girlish flirt, “S’it a good pick-me-up? D’you feel better?” you asked for no other reason than to feel him grow hard against your hip.
Cement walls deadened outside interference, isolating his hammering heart in its loudest beats, and projecting the low sound stuck in the back of his throat. His deep rumble of, “Yeah, feelin’ better,” was spoken in the hollow between your chests, stomachs meeting during your feathery inhales opposite his resolute ones filling the planes of his pecs with renewed strength to get through the day.
Eddie’s exhaustion illustrated itself in the bags under his eyes; intense wells of purple beneath deep wrinkles you couldn’t begin to solve for him. However, you could stretch up, brush your lips over his, and make the eager noises which fed his ego.
“Makin’ you feel good?” he asked, grounding his pleasure in what he could do for you.
“So good, handsome.”
“Love it when you call me handsome.”
“Yeah?”
He collapsed into you, “Yeah.”
Sly now, your grin broke the kiss. “You still remember how to unhook a bra, handsome? Or has it been too long?” No surprise—he nipped at the bottom lip he adored so much, shutting you up.
His big, tired body lost its strength from cranking tools all morning, but he still managed to impress you with his firm determination laying against your belly, pulsing eager. He circumvented your taunt with fingertips diving to the bottom of the cups and pushing up, drawing tension on the underwire, tightening the band around your ribs. It teetered on the edge of a great reveal, nipples harder than him between your legs. You begged for the release, for your bra to finally crest the whole, and bounce what you had into his waiting palms, where his thumb and index were shaped to tweak another hot moan into his mouth—full lips mashed gently to your desperate whine—unapologetic confidence staring you down. Doing it all with a smile.
The door opened with Carl’s question, “You get those u-joints for me?”
Violent strikes of shame-induced panic shocked you both into action before thinking.
Thank God you still had a hold on your sweater to yank it down in sync with Eddie’s side-step, the dumbass, exposing you because his priorities laid in fleeing. Well, at least he was a redeemable dumbass who used his quick wit Dungeon Master skills to remain with his back turned towards the door, perusing the top shelf for a box of universal joints.
You acted your part. “Oh! Uh, I couldn’t reach them, so I got Eddie to help,” you overexplained, pointing at your taller platonic friend who definitely wasn’t the reason your clothes bunched weirdly over your chest.
“Hm?” Carl looked up from his invoices, just noticing Eddie. “Could’ya get me some washers too?”
“Yep,” you answered for him, hearing the box slide along with the rattle of the steel washers, taking them and handing them off to Carl who grunted out a thank you, double checking his paperwork as he walked away, none the wiser as to why your gaze was sealed on the floor.
Mouth dried of all fluid, yet body drenched in the same embarrassment which reddened your coworker’s face darker than his bandana, you gulped past your heart lodged in your throat, and idled next to Eddie, pretending to tidy up a container of gloves. Really, you straightened out your bra instead, door wide open behind you.
It wasn’t against the rules to date your colleague, but he was uncomfortable with other people knowing about your relationship. Perhaps it was the prying, the questions, the pressure which bothered him most. Or the loss of privacy. All eyes on the single dad who hadn’t been in a serious relationship since a brief stint out of high school, and finding someone now, for him, The Freak of Hawkins, was such a significant event they’d probably congratulate him, therefore crushing the dignity he worked hard to assemble from the crumbs he was left with.
He had more to care about. More to lose. Always, you followed your boyfriend’s lead when it came to his reputation.
“So..”
“S-So,” he answered. “Uhm..”
“Should we.. Do you want to keep doing this?” you hesitated, trying to figure him out. Eddie knew what you were asking, though. It strained against the last set of buttons to his coveralls. The edge with no relief. Sneaking around, copping feels in dusty closets, stealing kisses behind walls, never having enough time to start, nor end something worthwhile to ease the aches left behind. “Maybe we should relax at work until we have a real weekend to ourselves again?”
“Fuck no.” His blunt response raised your eyebrows. “C’mon, babe,” he scoffed, locking onto you with his sloppy puppy grin and playful nudge on your arm. “This work week already fucking sucks, and you’re the only good I get.”
Checking over his shoulder, he sidled closer to you, and lowered his voice, “Yesterday I got to kiss you, and then go home to my kid who ate her chicken and broccoli without a single complaint.” He cut his hands to his chest, palms up, bouncing them in a shrug. “I don’t see any downsides here.” Aside from the prominent downside in your periphery, you agreed. “We’re just havin’ fun, right? Our weekend’s gonna come. These, uh, close encounters of the romantic kind are just to hold us over until then, that’s all.”
Just having fun. Just like that. Perks, pick-me-ups. No downsides here.
After giving him a long look, you nodded. These were just treats to get you both through the tough week. You could resist the temptation of taking it too far, keeping it casual. He could dial it back, and remain level headed about kissing, and a little over the clothes touching. No big deal.
Casual. Dialed back.
Easy.
————
Thursday was hot under the collar.
Coffee sputtered fat drops into the glass carafe, adding steam to the small breakroom, and filling it with the wake-up scent. Sat in a creaky plastic chair was a man sapped of energy, and behind him was his dearest flame. On the clock, technically, but arriving before other employees dared.
“Had to stay late last night to finish a car on time,” he grumbled to you, neck muscles flexing under your fingertips as he lolled his head side to side. “Wish you didn’t have to leave so early.”
You pulled his hair off his shoulders, and stroked your thumbs from his nape to the underside of his jaw in long sweeps over the tense slope, down, massaging the base where his collar began. “I know, baby,” you gentled, “me too, but we found a couch last night, and made sure it was the perfect size and comfort level for cuddling during a movie marathon.” His groan scratched vibrations along the rub, tugging your heartstrings.
“That sounds so good right now.”
Nothing made Eddie feel further away than the graywash walls surrounding you; lights too bright, vending machines droning too loud, stale odor of motor oil stinking too harshly of motor oil. Too everything—grating. His solid shoulders bowed weak from unyielding tasks. Body tired, brain stuck in problem-solving mode, watching cranky customers like a hawk, never getting a break once he got home; making food, washing dishes, cleaning spills, changing laundry, vacuuming dirt, providing entertainment, being the source of a thousand answers, drying tears, saying he’s sorry he can’t find the missing Barbie brush, worrying about everything, forgetting nothing, trying his best, falling short, perceiving himself as inadequate, disregarding himself as worthy of nothing more. Never getting the validation he craved after a long day. Poor man.
You leaned down and loosened the only button on his pinstripe coveralls, below his throat. Slipped the sky blue plastic from its cotton vice, threaded it through the hole in a languid beat, and kept things slow. You crawled your fingers to the sturdy metal zipper—dull gold—and ground the teeth three stretches down his chest, parting the halves to expose his black tee underneath. Your nails scratched the union of his pecs on the way to pull the collar off his neck, earning a comforting sound of approval from him, inspiring your own hum tickling your lips.
Switching from your thumbs to your knuckles, you dipped under his coveralls, and prodded the chain of stiffness on either side of his spine. Cheap poly-cotton grazed your skin. Mmm—His breath hitched, cheeks puffing at the sore knot you encountered, exhaling hard through the pain of your digging. It was so reminiscent of your second date when you were straddling him on his shit replacement for a bed not fit for a grown man, it hurt. You worshiped him between the bones—a small relief you wished to give him, delaying the restless ache growing more visceral every day you didn’t get to hold him for hours. Eddie reciprocated the yearn. He rested his head on your belly, washed curls swaying from his crown, frizzy strands clinging to the static on your blouse; leaning backwards so the meat between his neck and shoulder rolled under your handiwork. Closed eyes, fanning lashes. Mellow sounds of contentment sung through his nose. Beautiful man.
“Feeling better?” you asked, squeezing his traps in hard pinches, collecting his woes and turning them into sighs.
Mhmm, he said.
Perfect, you thought.
Better meant there’s still room for improvement.
In a fluid motion, you bent at the hips, and he leaned his head to the side, accommodating your arms draping around his front. The angle pressed your ass to the wall in an audible glide of your skirt shifting against it. Eddie, so soft and romantic, hiked his shoulders up and beamed hard at the ceiling, squeezing his eyes shut thinking his sweetheart was hugging him. However, you slipped your hands under his uniform, and his sunshine grin faltered.
His pulse quickened at your descent.
“Whatcha doin’, baby?” he asked, tone floating the river of curiosity and suspicion.
You doled kisses where his bangs parted, down to his temple, his eyebrow, sunk in the hollow of his cheek between the hardness of his teeth. You traveled the smooth grain on his jaw—warm notes of nutmeg, cinnamon, and vanilla in your lungs—and wandered over his earlobe, nosing through his long hair to the place you wanted. Lips on sensitive skin. Dangerous.
His throat bobbed at the top of a heartbeat, and his chest sank only to fill with a strong breath. The thin fabric of his tee stretched over the firm muscle laying dormant under a sleek layer of fat. Wheat shafts of hair mid valley brushed against the motion of your hands opening his coveralls further, fingerpads skimming his pebbled nipples; golden zipper sneaking to the top of his stomach, enough room for you to flatten your palms to his pecs, and unwind him. Like a good partner, you massaged the width where you laid your head to rest during a long hug, where you set your ear to listen to the rhythmic thump, where the source of his voice ignited when you asked him a question; thumbs joining to stroke the worthy center.
His black tee framed by the baby blue stripes paved a dark arrow to the kick of his hips tilting upwards as he slouched in the chair.
Excessive flattery laced your tease, “Are you hard?”
“‘Course I’m hard,” he pointed out the obvious. “You’re touching me.”
Not that the swollen length rising from his lap could be anything else, but knowing you caused such a standing ovation after a little bit of back rubbing ran you a mighty temperature.
Wicked thoughts pooled at the bottom of your stomach. The stiff outline influenced your thighs rubbing together, rallying hunger in your eyes. You angled your head, and shifted your focus to the goosebumps surfacing from your sigh fanning the shell of his ear.
Eddie’s neck invigorated your appetite.
You opened your mouth wide and grazed the sharp edge of your teeth over the vulnerable column thrumming with life. His body went rigid—”Oh”—then slack in increments. Again, you scraped lightly over the slope of warmed muscle appreciated by you as a result of the physical price he paid to assume the jobs of many, taking on the responsibility of Carl’s workload to ensure he made it to his son’s wrestling practice on time. Your man deserved the world; he deserved your lips forming a ring over his pulse, he deserved his heartbeat darting against your tongue, he deserved to melt under your attention. Your man deserved to have his little groan stolen when he remembered your mouth’s talent.
Despite the animal way you started, you eased him into the pressure, sucking down on his skin until your open bite filled with delicate flesh. A liquid glottal click preceded the faintest catch in his vocal chords. He secured a palm around your shoulder, heaviness drawing your arm forward, enticing your hand to rove down his chest. Shirt wrinkles collected around your fingertips as you reached the roundness of his stomach, and dipped below his coveralls. The change in environment was instant. Humid, sticky pheromones clung to your skin. Damp body heat trapped tacky warmth to your middle finger dipped to his navel while your knuckles prowled beneath his jumpsuit in visible arches. Edging closer, closer. Nearly there.
You arched your wrist to put strain on the zipper, dragging it with you, almost within reach of what he earned.
Eddie’s hand covered your own. “We shouldn’t, ah,” he cleared his throat, “shouldn’t start something we can’t finish,” he asserted, caught between the confliction crossing his face, and the gravelly tug in his vocal chords. He hooked his forefinger under your pinky and lifted your hand to the outside of his coveralls, where the halves parted below his sternum. “With our luck, someone’ll walk in on us.”
Yesterday’s incident in the closet brought fresh memories to his reddened ears; blotching renewed embarrassment along the pinkish skin where your spit dried. You took this into consideration when opposing, “Doubt anyone would walk in on us in the next thirty seconds.”
He’d deflect your implication with a glare if his eyes weren’t closed in disgust at his own actions.
“Just saying,” you sang, words becoming muffled on the stretch of neck he presented to you with a cant of his head, “we could have fun before anyone shows up.”
Teetering an inappropriate boundary neither of you should indulge, especially not in the storage closet or on your sturdy wood desk, his willpower faltered. “Don't tempt me with that shit when you know it’s a bad idea,” he griped without the balls to make it sound sincere.
You raked your fingers into a fist where they laid, pulling his uniform taut. The coveralls went tight over his lap, stressing deep shadows leading to the concentrated swell down his pants leg; made more obvious when he spread his knees wider, scraping his boots across the floor. Jittery nerves, flexed thighs, torn between crossing a line. Treats, perks, pick-me-ups. Hugging, kissing, touching over your bra. It was a dangerous path to tread. Risky. A million reasons why you shouldn’t.
“Want me to stop?”
“No.” Punctual, quick. Answered hoarsely in the breakroom of your workplace. “Keep going.”
His sentence rumbled in your mouth. Permission vibrated past your teeth, words rolled over your tongue, coating your brain in syrupy sweetness. Keep going. Texture of his stubble, then texture of his skin. Nearly invisible bumps matching the taste buds you licked down the sculpt of his throat, following the moody blue vein to where it disappeared under the ribbed collar of his shirt. You nudged the barrier away, and dropped wet kisses on the hilled muscle. His head fell further into the crook of your arm, offering, making the spot more accessible for you to lap at, cherish. The position was perfect. No better vantage point to stare down your boyfriend’s shuddering chest while you sucked a bruise on his neck, and wrung his coveralls a little tighter.
The shadows defining his lap twitched.
Eddie imposed his fingers between yours, and adjusted his grip several times until the sturdy cotton twill restricted his length flat. Without looking, you knew his nostrils flared when he released a rough exhale afterwards. Being so close, you heard the bubbles in his saliva pop before his mouth constricted on the swallow. You listened to the spit travel, saw his throat bob. Felt the hitch in his whine before he ever sank to the edge of the chair, where his hips would lurch and his clothes would drag along the oversensitive temptation begging for more in a hard throb. A short, delicate, and devastating morsel of what his mouth drooled for.
“Am I making you feel better?”
Through the trance of the powerful initiative rushing his blood south, compounded by the many rules and boundaries he broke of his own accord since he met you, paired with the sultry aid of your husky voice, he nodded. His muscle swayed beneath your teeth. “So much better, baby.”
“Love to hear it, handsome,” you kissed his cheek.
Dots of bright candy apple red bloomed amongst the pink where you marked the destination in the passage from his ear to his ball chain necklace. The metal beads were warm on your loving peck to his keepsake. Returning to the raw span beside it, you nursed the bruise along, sealing your kiss-plumped lips to the afflicted area, and bringing forth stipples of violet. Eddie disciplined his moan in the quiet room; coffee pot full, and vending machines clicking to lower hums; yet his weak noise wrapped you in tangled bedsheets, and unset alarms. Strong arms, and a slow cadence between your legs. Fantasies which were lost in the anguish of professionalism, and busy schedules.
Then, he called you back to reality with another sound. Whinier. Hemmed in his shaky breath, and a fluttered ‘oh’.
You broke the heavy-lidded spell over your eyes and fixed your gaze on the reason his grip on your shoulder cinched.
Eddie rocked his hips, and the outline of his cock strained against his coveralls. The entire definition of his head stretched the fabric as hard as it could at the top of the thrust, and fell to his thigh on the descent. Lines amassed on his forehead as he worked the circle again, starting on a pace which favored his next moan. Low, and slow—finding a steady rhythm, and simmering. Like that, accepting the urge and giving in, fuck the consequences. The spontaneity of you suggesting you give him some relief before the work day began spurred him, and whatever reservations he had about not fooling around while on the clock crumbled. Not that his convictions were ever strong to begin with when it came to you.
Approaching something more desperate with each controlled motion scoring the friction he couldn’t resist, another moan—thick, and hot like warmed maplewood sap—rumbled from his braced chest.
With his eyebrows pinched, and mouth slack, he watched himself get off on nothing but his own determination.
Spit flooded your bottom lip. Your palm needed to be filled. You ached for his smooth skin moving up and down while you fisted his shaft. You strangled his clothes at the thought, and yes, you begged, “Can I?” to which he dropped his head back and groaned a soft ‘fuck’.
“Whatever you want, baby,” he released in a jumble of grateful syllables.
Hanging onto his composure, he reached for the zipper, and the action stirred a phantom taste of his salty release on your tongue. Your body fought tooth and nail to have patience. You distracted yourself by placing fervent kisses in his hair as thanks for the wonderful start to the morning, about to pump Eddie’s cock to the same tempo as your racing heart without an ounce of restraint, when you froze.
A near-mute whoosh of air alerted every nerve in your body.
There was no mistaking the gust of the glass door rushing open, its whispered squeak imperceivable to anyone who didn’t spend an inordinate amount of time sitting beside it. But Eddie heard it. Or, he heard the thudding steps leading the jumpstart in his heart.
He freaked.
In a flurry, Eddie kicked up his hips to zip his jumpsuit to his throat, and you spun around to dig through the fridge while metal chair legs screeched across the tile, scooting in until his upper half was soldered to the rim of the table, and you picked out his favorite creamer.
Hot coffee beat out the smell of Old Spice. The fridge’s condenser fan knocked sense into the lapse of judgment. A booming voice penetrated the ringing pitch of bad decisions rushing loud in your ears.
“Mornin’!” Mr. Moore waited for your response of ‘Good morning’ to drive his Thursday mood, “Y’watch the news last night?” he asked, holding the conversation just inside the breakroom door. “Weather lady said the storm over Springfield is just sittin’ there—y’know, just hangin' over the city churnin' out rain like you wouldn't believe! It’s a strange one; the whole system is avoiding us, but it's what's brought on this heat wave. And just a few days ago we were seein’ our breath! The thunderstorm from the weekend dented my new chicken pen with hail, and now I’m turnin’ on the A/C, but that’s Hawkins for ya.” Sucking his teeth, he muttered to himself, “Cursed town.”
At that, you collected Eddie’s mug from the cabinet, and clinked a spoonful of sugar and Coffee Mate in his mug, stirring through the swirl of piping hot beige.
Mr. Moore continued, “Anyway, we should prob’ly dust off that drum fan, ‘nd set it up before the sun turns the garage into an oven.. You okay, Ed?”
You wiped the steam from your fingers onto your skirt, demonstrating an extraordinary amount of strength in resisting looking at him.
“Yeah, I—yeah, I think those fumes from yesterday got to me.”
“Ah, gotcha,” Mr. Moore replied, familiar with the debilitating headaches mechanics frequently succumbed to. “Take it easy today, will ya? And, uh, could you help me with the fax machine?” You perked up at the change in tone, understanding the question was intended for you. “If you got a minute, I need to send out some of these papers.”
Tapping the spoon, rinsing it, putting it aside, you said, “Sure can,” and your boss took that as his cue to walk into his office. Door open.
You set the perfect cup of coffee on the table, and stalled. Eddie’s fingers trembled over his forehead, laced into a shield and only lowered to the bridge of his nose in order to pierce you with all the glare he could muster; bouncing his knee in such a frenzy it quivered the curl of his bangs over his plum face, and shook the thinness of his scorched cheeks.
“Told you this was a bad idea,” he enunciated, wholly vindicated.
Your lips wore a tingle through their numbness as they thinned into a regretful grin. “I’m sorry.” You passed a kiss over top his head where your hand stroked. When the coal of his eyes continued to scold you through his thick lashes, you gave him another kiss, and spoke in softer earnest, “I really am, Eddie. I didn’t mean to, you know.. yeah.” Balls so deeply blue, they matched his jumpsuit. “Thought we had enough time to finish.”
He grunted.
Under the pressure of both time and guilt, you spun your hands into finger guns at the door, and shuffled backwards from him awkwardly, eyes set on the scuff marks on the floor. “I’ll just—” You were already steps away, about to exit.
“—guess I’ll jack off again.”
“What was that?”
Eddie jerked his head up, eyebrows lifting, realization crossing his glazed over stare. The sentence was meant as a vent of frustration, but not where you could hear it. He couldn’t get redder; in fact, he paled around his mouth a little, licking his lips. “I–uh.” He blinked irregularly through his stutter, finding the words which evaded him, scraping his brain for an explanation while he wrung and crossed his arms in a loose hug over his shoulders, fidgeting. “It, well, it h-hurts if I don’t..”
Corroding into an eye-roll only hidden by the very act of closing your eyes, you informed him, “Yes, I am well aware of the biological phenomenon. You said ‘again’, though. Meaning?”
After a moment of deciding how much information he was willing to divulge, he shrugged into his shoulders, dipping his chin to one side, using his hair to shy behind. “I’ve.. had to jack off before,” he answered, being coy with the topic.
“Here?”
“Yes.”
“At work?”
“In the bathroom, yeah.”
“How come?”
His intentional avoidance drew your smile, so mischievous and calling his bluff, cornering the affection in his expression until his sneaky glance from beneath his bangs wove more and more of a story into his sheepishness. “Sometimes you wear stuff I like.”
You pounced. “Oh, yeah?” Interposing yourself between two chairs across from Eddie—ignoring the sound of Mr. Moore’s fist beating on the plastic machine in the other room—you drew circles on the tabletop, and pried, “What kind of stuff? When? Do you mean this week, or, like, before we were even friends?”
“I am not telling you that,” he laughed, he choked, he denied—hard—basically confirming he did wrap his hand around his cock at the thought of you, perhaps at work, perhaps yesterday after the closet incident, perhaps at the start of your employment at David’s Auto Repair when he didn’t know how to process the new receptionist flirting with him and his way of shutting down any feelings before they began was by ridding himself of the urge.
The topic itself was eliminated by his arm swinging outward, conversation not up for discussion.
And you, enjoying the attention that made him fold his hands over his lap, laid your upper half across the table, propping your elbows so there was a gap down your blouse if he so chose to ocularly venture.
Your words mushed from your fists beneath your chin, “Is it the skirts?” You rocked side to side. His crows feet deepened, shoulders shaking from suppressed giggles, refusing the allurement of your shapely sway draped in corporate gray. “Or is it the jeans and hoodie that does it for ya? Really getcha goin’ when I’m dressed down? Hmm?” Your eyebrow waggle dueled with his sealed lips.
“‘M’not tellin’,” he defended, hardly able to speak through his fondness for flattering you; as if praising you were its own reward, reflected upon him as a good man worthy of having his dirty boots tucked beside your front door.
From the hallway, a rackety sound strung together with a cuss and muffled call of your name roused the logical side of your brain, awakening you both from the hormonal haze.
Eddie clicked his tongue. “Best get to work, sweetheart.”
“Why? Need some alone time?”
The weight of the ache between his legs burdened his lack of comeback.
Obliging, because he was right, you stretched across the table and waited for him to meet you halfway. But he didn’t attempt to close the distance. He stayed put, committed to his stubbornness, and forced you to stain the muscles down the backs of your legs in order to reach. Fine, you played into his game. You planted your smirk on his mouth, dousing his smug features with your own.
“I was just thinking,” you lead innocently, “I’ve already packed my closet, but I might find the time to go through the boxes tonight, and pick out my outfit for tomorrow.”
“Babe—” It was an instant beg. Your favorite kind. “Don't you dare,” and he couldn’t even erase the intrigue, the thrill, the excitement of stolen youth in his tone. The sneaking around, the perks, the treats—the boundary you both knew you shouldn't cross, because of worse decorum than him sitting stiffly at a table, ripe with embarrassment. “You can’t do that. Are you even—? Baby?”
“By—e,” you sang on your way out.
————
Friday came with an excessive heat warning.
Footsteps came from behind you, lingering at the door. An arduous breath was spent sighing, but his voice was too playful to shame you, hardly traipsing through his throat to chastise, “You’re something else, you know that?”
Every beat of your heart was emphasized by his step forward, dragging his boots until his body heat warmed your backside. Blissfully unaware, you continued washing the glass carafe in the breakroom sink. Staying diligent in your task wasn’t an admission of guilt; rather, diverting your attention was an act of grace, of benevolence, granting him access to feast on your figure. It was obvious from the moment you arrived his hunger grew insatiable. You walked into the garage exactly as late as you planned, arms loaded with two boxes of freshly fried donuts, and the shine in his sharp-set eyes did not match those of his coworkers springing from their circle around the workbench. No, the to-go orders of dark roast coffees did not feed a smile to his face as it did for Kevin, nor did the waft of sugary glaze excite his mouth into watering like it did for the other men.
Eddie’s cravings were of a different breed.
His expression was hard, then. If you’d just met, you’d think your merry presence pissed him off. Now knowing better, you read the initial shock before he schooled it to an intense stare, steely gaze locking you into a match. You provoked him with a golden sunshine grin. His jaw went slack enough to run his tongue along his inner cheek, calming his rise in blood pressure, nose perking pink and eyes flashing dark and lips twitching to one side.
You excused yourself—“I should clean the coffee maker before I leave those grounds in there all weekend,”—and went to the breakroom. Eddie was hot on your trail. He came in not half a minute later. Probably didn’t even make up an excuse, he just left the circle.
“This is too far, even for you,” he maintained, aching and slow, words brushing over your ear.
Anticipation mounted in the sound of his clothing shifting, leather boots creaking. You expected him to do something sweet—run his knuckle down the small of your back, or thumb at the strap along your shoulder—but instead, you gasped.
Water sloshed in the coffee pot, suds squishing from the squeeze you put on the sponge.
He dived under the hem of your dress. The fabric fit tight on your body, snug to your waist, closing your thighs in a hug. He tugged it over the curve of your ass, exposing your bare cheeks to the chilly room. Bold. Risky. Dirty. Nowhere near the platonic workplace relationship he was trying to front. You twisted to look up at him with wide, thrilled eyes, giddy with the boost of flattery knowing your simple clothing choice drove him wild.
Eddie got a sturdy grip on the counter edge, and eased his weight onto you until you were covered by his magnificence, chest to back. He shaped his palm to your hip, and dug his thumb above the elastic band of your underwear, connecting the need of his hand to the yearn of his mouth. You melted in the pocket of his embrace, greeting him with parted lips, accepting his tongue. Never would you tire of his breath overtaking yours. Spit, spearmint gum, oddly metallic. Smoke break. You break. Morning tangle of you and him when the others were enjoying donuts one glass door away.
Fearless fingertips discovered you without hesitation. Polished callouses swept over and around to the front of your thigh, greeting the warm juncture with a smooth trace of his buffed skin, middle finger following the edge of your cotton panties down the seam, and up. Only an inch or so into the crease where your leg met the thong, back and forth twice along the line, enough to skim your nerves awake, and work you into a sweat for his index hovering over the swell where a single graze would have your knees weak. Taking the touch away, he wrapped his arm around your middle, and drew your hips in.
He pressed fat and heavy along your backside, unashamed.
The kiss ended in a juicy smack, finished by your hum against the coarse grain peppering his jaw. Lips were licked, sparkling eyes gazed into their match. Coming down with a lovesickness, your skin fostered a high fever, woozy bliss clouding your head—dreamy dreamy dreamy.
“You know what this dress does to me, don’t you?”
A grin cracked your face. “I might.” You immersed yourself in the comfort of his firm body draped around you, the raw sensation of your bare skin against his rugged coveralls, and lazed in the same memory as him.
The burgundy pinafore clung to the warmth of his taken smile from that night. So smitten, and fond. A dress made of belly clenching laughter, woven together with threads of brave glances, converging and averting when the strikes of nerves teemed on admitting too much. Cinnamon, nutmeg, grape jelly in the slow cooker meatballs. Freshly shed pine needles, and glitter. Significance baked into every fiber of the dress you wore under a lonely sprig of mistletoe, unkissed.
Never again would he let you go home believing you weren’t a treasure.
“Can’t be wearin’ this around me,” he obsessed, and you giggled at the rich confidence in his voice—a prelude to the depth he was willing to go. “Gonna get me in trouble.”
Using the sink ledge as leverage, you muscled Eddie into standing up straight with you, winning his heart with a doe-some blink. Arching, you swayed your hips on the length catching between your round cheeks, though the position flaunted something else which might entice him in engaging in risky behavior. “I’m not wearing a bra, either,” you said. Your voice was girlish—floaty and high—a bit raspy from your neck being turned to admire the handsome amount of approval twinkling in his dark eyes.
“Yeah?” Eddie moved his Stupid Cupid lips over the very edge of your ear, and rumbled through the words weighing down his chest, “Need me to fuck you that bad, huh?”
Thrums of pleasure lit within you.
You nodded the side of your face against the scratch of his chin—a morning, day, evening, night, dusk, dawn without a shave.
“Need me here?” he asked, slipping his fingers inside your dress. The fabric over your chest struggled to accommodate his circle around your nipple. You sucked in a breath—released in a moan—and grabbed onto his arm for stability, already falling backwards into him. The direct blessing of his prod to the bud was too much. Your toes curled at his pinch. He flicked the tip of his smooth finger pad over it faster. “Yeah? You like that?” You whined a croaky sound, resting your head on his chest, unable to keep your eyes open to admire the way he watched himself do this to you, chin hooked over your shoulder to view his own hand groping his girl beneath his favorite dress.
“Need me somewhere else?” he asked, and your hips began to mimic the circle he stroked as an answer.
With the ease of a man who’d pictured this scenario more times than respectful, Eddie seized the permission. Middle, index; his two thickest, longest, dexterous. Divine, and unholy. At the bottom of your dress bunched over the top of your thighs, he crooked those two fingers under the hem intentionally, while your hand combed through his hair at the suggestion. “Yeah? Want me to touch you there?” There—a base he’d yet to run even when you were alone on your second date. “Need me that bad while we’re at work?”
You verbalized your desire, as weak as it skirted past your sigh, “Please, Eddie.”
One plea, and it was Love Potion No. 9. His lean frame blanketed you, cradled you, collected you to his height, corded muscles gone solid with restraint. Large nose pressed to your ear, including you in the deep draw of validation into his lungs. Hugging you to the pride inflating his firm chest. The full throaty rasp of desire, and being desired, intimate and close. Two fingers ventured under your dress. You twirled his hair, teething your bottom lip in anticipation for the touch. They were shaped to claim his prize locked behind a fine layer, but he teased you first. He curved the breadth of his palm to the stretch of cotton, width of his calloused reach forcing your feet apart, and brushed past your deepest craving to cherish the place he craved.
“Jesus,” he wept.
His fingers glided along the wet patch on your thong, fabric sticking to your wet heat. It slid along you in a sticky lick, and he sank his teeth to the base of your neck, beyond help. A noise tripped in your throat at his simultaneous pinch on your nipple. He was a goner.
In a few circles around your entrance, he had you melting into his arms. A tweak on your nipple gained your fingers at the root of his hair. He squeezed your slick lips together, and your neglected need sang at the stimulation, begging him in a gasp to do it again. He did. He did, he did, again, however many times it took to have your sighs dive into moans.
Two devilish fingers began their journey upwards, intentions set and clear. Smarmy with ego, he goaded, “Let’s see how long it takes you to cu—”
The near-mute whoosh of the glass door was made obvious by the chorus of men’s laughter bouncing in.
Cold fear licked up your spine. You scrambled for the abandoned coffee pot in spectacular fashion, struggling to get hold of its soapy body in the fret of stress induced tunnel vision—but Eddie? Eddie took his time hitching your dress hem where it should be, flattening it to your thighs. The telltale gait of your boss was nearing, and he was in no rush to jolt to the opposite end of the planet away from you. Oh, no. Your boyfriend brushed his hands in methodical sweeps over the fabric, smoothing it to your hips, mirroring the same cadence as the steps which sent you into a panic. He even gave you a hard pat after he was done. Kissed your cheek to seal the deal, only stepping away to peruse the vending machines the moment Mr. Moore rounded the corner.
“Can’t resist havin’ a little sugar in my coffee,” he informed from the hallway, chipper as can be, strutting in while you were rearranging your dumbstruck stare into something pleasant. He swiped three Splenda packets. “We’re ‘boutta start the meeting, by the way.” You nodded at the coffee pot you washed to a shine. Mhm! you replied after an anxious attempt for anything better, tight-lipped, and dodging his prying eyes by enacting a coughing fit into your elbow in the other direction, willing to bolt if he even so much as thought about voicing his concern over your strange behavior.
Ka-shink, ka-shink, ka-shink. Eddie fed quarters into the Pepsi machine. “Be right there,” he announced, jamming one of the rectangular buttons on the side.
Mr. Moore paused for the longest .02 seconds of your life. No amount of money could bait you into turning around. Whatever expression he was making—if he knew what you and Eddie were doing—that was between him and God. Your shoulders were squared, muscles ready to flee in panic, heart racing beyond what it should be capable of. All the while Eddie crouched for his drink clunking to the bottom slot.
“Well,” was your boss’ succinct response on his way out, underscoring the end of his thought.
There should’ve been some relief, but your breath stayed in your lungs, and your hands shook horrendously, smacking the handle for the faucet too hard on accident, shooting the stream out on high. And, of course, the closed coffee pot lid was the perfect shield, sending water everywhere.
You screwed your eyes shut and defended yourself from the onslaught, worrying about your face and dress first, and your wimpy shriek second.
Eddie came to your rescue.
Ever the hero, ever the gentleman, he shut off the water for you. A ‘thank you’ had been earned, but one peek between your lashes had you quirking your brow in question. He was too close. Standing univinted beside you, almost touching, invading your personal space in a show of ownership. Shadows attempted to temper his smirk, but they cut harshly around the devious apples of his flushed cheeks. You opened your mouth to ask why he was looking at you like that, when—
The explanation came in your stolen yelp.
“Ed!”
“Shh,” he taunted, taking charge of his bubbling laughter at your reaction.
Goosebumps erupted down your legs, pebbling harder where he rolled the freshly dispensed can of Mug root beer across the back of your thighs. The chill bit into you, and you bit into your bottom lip. Squirmy noises squeaked from your throat. He reached under your dress and held the soda to your ass cheek, replacing the warmth of his cock with a bitter lesson. A stinging—fucking—cold lesson. He pinned your options between him, his arm, and the countertop. There was no escaping his revenge. You saw no other choice but to cling to his coveralls, let the shiver run its course, and scold him in a failed whisper, “Eddie—!” He loved it. Enjoyed every crinkle of your pathetic glare when you realized why he was doing it.
His length was softening against you. An old technique, rubbing vigorously at his sensitive head until the evidence of his arousal went away without repercussions. And now you were the one all worked up with no release.
Grinning like a menace, his cockiness eclipsed your vision, putting his forehead to yours so his snarky giggle vibrated in your skull. He wrangled you into his embrace, manipulating you with ease. Layers of implied strength snapped your hips forward. Years of unassuming muscle beneath his humble clothes locked you to his body without trouble. Strong arms you recognized the power of when they snatched a man by his tie, seasoned hands equipped for ripping out rusted axle shafts, fingers which threaded elastic string through plastic beads with the same finesse as soldering spliced wires together. They all joined in consecutive evil to slide the can between your round cheeks, down to where your yearning sprung.
“Jesus fucking Christ!” You picked up his vocabulary at some point. “I swear, Eddie Munson, if you don’t move that right now.”
“I’m just coolin’ ya off, sweetheart.” He sounded so pleased with himself, the jerk. He also sensed the impending handprint on his cheek, and apologized with a bit of earnest effort, “Sorry.”
Not betraying his newly actualized cavalier attitude towards urgency, he utilized his afternoon drink against your needy core as a way to hike you onto your tiptoes, and bless you with an offensive smirk kissed onto your slanted grimace.
Pussy numbed, he took his root beer away, and moved past you.
“Did you plan this?” you asked, assumed, accused. Mellow in anger, harsh in disbelief. “Is this payback for yesterday?” And the day before that. And the day before that. And maybe the day before that, too.
“Well, yes and no,” he resolved, sorting his explanation while opening the fridge. You crossed your arms, and stuck your hip out. The sensation between your legs was dull and cold. “With our luck, I knew we’d get interrupted before we could finish—and I did intend to give you a taste of your own medicine—but, yeah, uh, then you showed up in that dress, and all my plans went out the window,” his voice tumbled silly with self-deprecation, gestures as big as his eyes. “I was planning on just coming in here, and letting you know how hot you were. Make out with you some, maybe get a lil’ handsy, y’know, make you feel good like you make me feel good. But, uh.. Yeah. Didn’t mean to get carried away like I did.” He prized you in another look over. A damning amount of awe sat in his simper, like he was experiencing his crush flirting with him for the first time all over again. That is, before he hung his head back, and opened his throat to release a hoarse groan at the ceiling.
Eddie held the cold can to his lap, rolling it over the swell, taming the last of his biological drive from showing. “Trust me, baby, I’m chewing through my leash to get to you.”
Too charming. A flustering rush of flattery washed over you—warm, fuzzy, prickly heat of the back of your neck. Your annoyance at him was never genuine, but it certainly wasn’t after watching him speckle his jumpsuit with condensation in effort to resist breaking a code of conduct. Though, you were still strategizing how long it would take with your deft fingers down your underwear in order to rid your own need, and sit at your desk without chewing through the particle board, too.
Reading your mind, he put the soda away, and approached you with two palms on your nape, frigid fingers laced behind your neck and cold thumbs stroking your jaw. He dropped his head to the side, and maintained unblinking eye contact through his slow disapproving shake, resentment festering in his desperate gaze. “If I don’t get a few minutes alone with you today, I’m gonna go insane,” he stated. You believed him. “I’m serious, you better scrape together a few minutes to come kiss me on my smoke break, or else.”
There was no elaboration on what ‘or else’ meant.
“I will,” you promised, weak to his kiss on your forehead.
Figuring you’d both been stalling long enough, he trailed his last goodbyes for the foreseeable future on the line of your cheek bone, your chin, bridge of your nose, corner of your lips. Wherever. He swept his hand into your own, and brought it to his mouth, hiding the beginnings of his smirk in the smooches to your knuckles. “Was the soda thing too much?”
Grinding dullness to his sharp intrigue, you rolled your eyes. “It was kind of hot, I guess,” you forced out in a monotone droll, feigning harder exasperation when his expression squinched too mirthful.
“Don’t you mean cold?”
You soured, distaste in every syllable, “Criminally unfunny.”
“I know you liked that one, sweets,” he shot back, waggling his eyebrows. “Now, let’s get to that meeting before they get any ideas about us, pretty girl.” He finished with a wink, and two giddy-up clicks of his tongue.
“I hate you.”
“That’s too bad, ‘cause I adore you.”
~~~
A few kisses in the alleyway, that’s all either of you asked for. Two minutes alone. Maybe more than three sentences exchanged about matters not pertaining to work. But, no. Even when you escaped the two men at your desk reciting an encyclopedic amount of knowledge about some type of engine you didn’t care about, you were roped into giving directions to the shop over the phone while shuffling through invoices in Mr. Moore’s office. And when Eddie got you pressed against the wall in the storage room, someone yelled for him to help with a rush job, killing the mood. To make matters worse, the grueling week ended with you and Eddie being scheduled on the same lunch slot, but with the approaching deadline for expense sheets being due at the end of the day, you were planning to eat yours at your desk, and avoid the torture of sitting next to him without being able to touch him like you wanted.
You opened the fridge and took out the Buckley special. Yellow squash casserole with a side of Shake ‘n Bake chicken. Eddie’s teal and purple lunch bag contained an extra helping of both. It’d become customary for Robin's mom to cook extra, and pack it away for you to bring for him. His actual lunch was in a paper bag next to it. Big spoiled man.
Speaking of, he was at the sink; sleeves rolled up his wrists, scrubbing himself clean with Fast Orange. Bitter citrus stung your nose as he lathered up his hands, working the pumice into the smudges of grease around his knuckles.
Mr. Moore got your attention without introduction. “I’m taking the wife out to that new Italian restaurant. Should’a asked her if she wanted Italian food, but oh well. We’re swingin’ by the sign shop next to it, and makin’ real sure our logo’s nice and big on that banner for tomorrow.” He accentuated the importance of David’s Auto Repair with high brows, and a canted head. He also managed to pronounce it both Eye-talian, and Uh-talian in the same thought. “Be back in, uhh—hour ‘n a half, maybe?” He swung his keys into his fist on his way out.
The group for lunch would be smaller, then. Maybe you could do your paperwork at the table, and get away with playing footsie with your favorite mechanic. Yipee.
“Hope I’m not interrupting anything,” Kevin announced, and you both looked at him over your shoulders. You were sorting the lunches to get the casseroles in the microwave, and Eddie was rubbing an extra squirt of Dawn between his fingers. Exceptionally mundane. “I was so impressed by that coffee this morning, I’m going down to the diner and ordering myself a sandwich and dessert. Prob’ly finish it up with another cup’a coffee after. Gonna make it a whole forty-five minute ordeal,” he sold the significance with several nods.
His immediate disappearance out the lobby door after his statement was strange, but you shrugged at each other, and went back to the lunches and hand washing.
“D’you know where those bottles of wax are?”
You shook your head. Eddie shook his head slower. A heavy thread of tension bred awareness between your two bodies strung taut from pent up urges.
“Weird,” Carl huffed. “I swear I just had ‘em. Well, shit. Can’t finish this car without at least one. I’ll go pick some up at the hardware store. Be back in a few,” he let you know, voice echoing off the hallway walls on his way to his truck.
Cold, warm, hot. Your blood buzzed. The bell above the front door dinged as it latched closed. Left behind was a lobby empty of people, garage paused in limbo, and a building cast in silence. You turned to Eddie. Dawning comprehension overtook your faces, wide eyes fixed on each other.
“Holy shit,” he exhaled, and you were already shoving your food back in the fridge, smashing his bologna sandwich in the process. Eddie cursed again, “Holy shit!” and snatched the hard bristle brush, scouring the dirt from under his nails, between his fingers, up his arms until the water ran clear and his skin burned pink. The same could be said for the grime on his cheeks. His light blue coveralls were soaked from the water dripping down his neck, but his face was spotless. Only the best for your lips.
“Oh, fuck, Eddie,” came your relief.
He accepted your willowy clutch on his sleeves. “It takes—It takes four minutes to get to the hardware store,” he stuttered in excitement, counting on his fingers behind your back, “so eight minutes roundtrip, factor in another eight for parking, looking for the wax, and checking out. That gives us sixteen minutes!”
Sixteen minutes where? Behind you was a plastic table which wobbled from an uneven foot. In the lobby was your desk in full view of the windows. In the bay were cars neither of you were quite brave enough to chance a stain on a seat.
“Um, um,” Eddie’s quick thinking trembled, about to suggest he take you there on the unforgiving tile floor, when he remembered, “Oh! My van! I brought my van.” He grasped you by the shoulders, shaking passion down to your toes about the hunk of metal parked outside his trailer when you visited. “I brought my van! I brought my van to drop off some amps at Gareth’s before the show!”
Rattled, you went to give him a thumbs up in full agreement, but he grabbed your hand, and bolted. You half-complained, half-shrieked, “You don’t need to drag me!” Reckless youth inspired him, broad grin loud and clear in his unadulterated sprint towards the OPEN sign and flipping it to display CLOSED. You skidded and bumped into him, bodies converging in true laughter. He caught you, he always caught you, and hauled you to the glass door, slowing in a smooth stride to open it for you. Always opening it for you. The garage was baked in sunshine, streaming through the warehouse windows on the bright day. Eddie’s boots clunked loud on the floor. A rock in the alleyway ricocheted off his shoe, bouncing off the tire of your temporary five star hotel.
The covert brown and cream van sat parked amongst the brick, gravel, and curls of dead leaves playing in the gentle breeze. It sat in full view of cars passing on either end of the back street. You hoped they were watching.
He wrenched one half of the creaky back doors open, and ushered you in the hollow between him and the carpeted floor, engulfing your face with his citrusy palms. “Don’t wanna waste a second,” he asserted in a winded breath, blurring your mind with a heady kiss, and impatient pat on your backside.
Rocks crunched under his boots. Two sturdy hands cupped the back of your thighs, helping you hop up onto the back of his van in a thrill of flirty giggles, weak for how bad he wanted you. Your calves slid against the warm metal bumper, your feet dangled by the exhaust pipe, your knees trapped his hips between your legs. His thick fingers sank into your fat, thumbs particularly bruising. Being everything he wanted, you snagged him closer by the collar, mouths almost meeting, and tilted yourself on the outline straining his coveralls, looking into his big brown eyes with a plea when the lone impact sweltered under your skin.
He hiked your knee to his waist, exposing you more to his packed heat aching to see you again. “C’mon,” he said, lips loaded with devilishness, “can’t stand to spend another second out here where I can’t have you.”
Anyone cruising by could bear witness to Hawkins’ number one Satanist loading a pretty young thing in the back of his ice cream sandwich colored van, and make assumptions.
Bless them.
You scooted backwards into the belly of the dragon’s lair. For an old beater used for transporting band equipment, he took good care of it. The carpet was clean. The wood paneling up the sides remained unscuffed. The back seat was taken out to make room for a hard case for a guitar, and two large amps wrapped in a spare comforter to prevent damage on either. And that’s where your observations ended.
Eddie’s indecent gaze was set on the stretch of white cotton under your dress. Nothing could break his stare as he threw his hair in a low bun, grabbed either side of the metal doorframe, stepped one foot on the edge, and bounced the van twice before hauling himself—and his manic smile—inside.
The acoustics amplified the door slamming shut.
His boots made for two heavy lovedrunk steps. Bruises were earned on his knees, dropping to them where your hem had ridden up, keen eyes traveling the valley between your thighs, up to the soft round of your nipples. Expecting his imminent weight, you laid back. Heat from the floor warmed you through your clothes. He crawled over you; one hand by your hip, the other next to your shoulder. You were lying beneath him for the first time, and he behaved long enough to memorize your gentle grin, and adoring squint.
“Oh, you’re gonna be the end of me,” he said, accent thick in his throat, ripe with lust. The gravel alone had your hands on the back of his neck, attempting to pull him down, to continue the momentum. But he didn’t budge. Distant in the blood rush, he found a bit of sobriety to ask, “D’ya mind if I get you dirty? I’m kinda gross.” His coveralls were marked with grime, dusted with dirt, splotched with oil. The overt blue collar status of his job opposed the unblemished burgundy and stark white tee of yours, sitting at a desk and answering phones in semi-working A/C.
You admired the mental fortitude it took to ask you first, but now was not the time to be a gentleman.
“So get me gross,” you replied, and a flicker of revelation stirred in his features. “I want to be gross with you.” You, Munson, The Freak of Hawkins, the one who everyone avoided; he who was rejected for being unapologetically himself. Taking advantage of his solid shoulders, you peeled yourself off the floor, and from the depths of belonging, you set fire to his kindling. “Make me fucking dirty.”
Eddie’s mouth pursed, then stretched thin, cheeks high, crinkling the corners of his eyes. “My pleasure.”
Plush lips crashed onto yours, body covering you in desperation, touch starved. His weight hugged you, pinned you. He flattened his arm alongside your head for support, and welcomed your legs bent around the length of his backside. Playfully suggestive hums followed his greedy hand scaling your thigh. Short layers of his hair fell forward, tickling your cheeks in summer innocence, while down below his thumb grazed the narrow string of your thong strapped over your hip in a fraction of the hunger he had for you. One trace under your panties, and the kiss went sloppy with tongue; slick mouths mashing, teeth knocking, jaws aching, and lips swollen. Aggressive, possessive, and dizzy. Your dress bunched around your waist. Rugged fabric rasped where your chests met. Smears of grime, dust, oil dirtied you.
Because the clock was ticking, you sped things up with a squeeze around his ass. Eddie listened. Oh, Eddie listened. He took the thrust in stride, pressing down on your need, and catching your forehead with his. The pain was negligible. A gift, even, to hold your gaze when you clawed for the waist of his coveralls, and harnessed a hotter tension on your underwear. A concentrated craze blunted by the thick layers separating you. You lifted your hips for him, spurring more, faster, pouring your strength into earning a faint squeak on the van’s suspension.
He nosed your chin up, and slipped painful kisses over your jaw, finding the spot below your ear to laud, like you did to him, sucking and releasing when your whine doubled. “Pretty,” he moaned into a harder kiss along the trail of spit his breath cooled. The edge of his teeth scraped another fragile gasp. He rocked his hips for a better one. “Love the way you sound.”
Grasping for clarity in the haze, you reminded him, “Just for you.”
“Fuck” —his voice cracked in the sprint to recover what those three little words did to him— “that’s fuckin’ right just for me.”
Copying what you did in the breakroom, he brought his hand up from your waist to move your shirt out of the way, exposing the meat at the base of your neck. Too excited, he left a map of his teeth. The bite stung your nails into his back. “Sorry,” he regretted, but you denied your pained gulp of air, rubbing your cheek along his temple in a head shake, S’okay. He ran his tongue over the grooves as an apology, anyway. Tracking the dips and curves, licking, suckling, and nipping however hard he could to make you scratch circles on his scalp while struggling with the two syllables of his name.
His hair smelled of fertile soil and charred earth, a tang of metal and new tires.
You gave yourself over to the garden of his scent, sunshine against your eyelids. Beyond the fatigue in your inner thighs was his constant, eager, chase. Chewing through his leash. Gnawing at his restraints. You focused on the long graze of friction, and forgot your surroundings which did not serve the fleeting jolts of pleasure between your legs, or the groping at your tits. You didn’t know there was an issue until Eddie’s frustrated grunt led to a harder tug at the unforgiving neckline of your dress, and finally, he shoved himself upright.
“How the hell do I get this off you?”
That explains why he was grabbing at both sides beneath your arms in search of a zipper.
Blinking, suddenly coming back to Earth, you contained your snort at his distressed motioning at the offensive garment enough to tell him, “It’s in the back,” and added, “like most dresses made in the last two, or three decades.”
He beckoned for you to sit up—a sharp gesture, but not without reason—and with your arms around his neck, he unzipped it with such speed, the plastic teeth should’ve melted from the traction. As he lowered you, the straps slipped from your shoulders, thick fingers inviting the release down to your elbows, breadwinner fists folding the top of the dress over on itself, joining where the bottom was scrunched around your middle. You’d only shaken the straps from your wrists when your body rocked side to side; a victim to his fumbling way of untucking your shirt, dying from suspense.
Stale air struck you from navel to neck.
His warm tongue was on you. “Oh—mm!” your voice raised a girlish notch. Two fat laps into coaxing your nipple tall, and fresh embarrassment ramped up your cheeks from the choked noise you made. You arched into his mouth for more, seeking foundation on his hands when an accidental skim of his teeth piqued your nerves alight. Rolling your head back, you found him through touch, starting with his wrists, working up to his knuckles, and curved squeeze cupping your tits together. He showed you how his mouth watered at the sight. Switching sides, he gifted the other stiff bud with a wet swirl, slipping over it again and again, gaining a squirm in your hips when he changed the speed—and without a break, he went back to the first to suckle, and his unintentional moan slipped out louder than yours when he pulled off.
He released a ragged breath into the valley between your breasts, “Couldn’t help myself.”
His determination throbbed impressions along your body even after he sat on his knees, leaving aches behind as a result of the sixteen short minutes he had with you. The adrenaline stayed in his shaky fingers. The top button of his coveralls dodged his pinch, eluding him. Another attempt, and a darker shade of red crept up his throat. “God fucking damnit, why’d I wear the ones that fucking button all the way down,” he fumed, wishing he could rip it open like the metal snap pair. You peered at his predicament through your lashes, and helped him out.
You tucked your chin to your shoulder in a pout, and competed for his attention, “Hurry up.”
“I know, sweet—” he verbally hit the brakes.
All too pretty, you pushed your tits together and strummed your fingers over your nipples in easy flicks, using his spit to skate over the peaks. You opened your legs wider, feeling his eyes devour you between the thighs. “I’ve missed you all week,” you said. His pulse jumped at the tiny excuse for underwear wedged further into the split, trimmed hair growing on either side.
Too long of a pause passed where his expression was slack. “Jesus Christ.” Working faster, he tore through the rest of the buttons, possibly losing one in the process, and shucked the jumpsuit over his shoulders. He flapped his arms to get the sleeves off, and his stark black tattoos made an appearance. The clumsy way he undressed shouldn’t have an affect on you, but when he took hold of the stuck cuff and the plastic beads clicked together on his bracelet, fresh roots of attraction thrived. Underneath his workwear a white ribbed tank top stretched over his chest. It must’ve been bought long ago when he was a size smaller, the bulk he’d packed on at the garage filled out the seams to their limit. Soft definition contoured the sun around his muscles. Veins strained the surface of his forearms, streaking shadows through the golden rays. Sparse curls fanned over the top of the neckline, thicker under his arms, and dark where his shirt rode up.
The jumpsuit hung loose around his hips, giving a peek at his boxers.
“You don’t wear jeans under those?”
“No? Did you think I did?”
The thought never crossed your mind until it was the only thing on your mind. You just assumed he would, so you shrugged, thinking of quickies in the future.
Eddie’s tolerance for conversation was low. A shuddered exhale blew past his lips, easing his hand down the front of his coveralls, pumping along the length fighting for his attention while he obsessed with what laid before him. Irresistible temptations which would forever change the way he looked at you were created the moment you touched yourself for him. Two fingers, two little circles over your underwear. You lured him, hypnotized him, sighing sweetly at the satisfaction. His bicep jumped in strength to restrain his pace, forearm pulsing from the choke he had on his base.
“Better calm down,” you teased in a slow lilt.
He scoffed—shallow in mockery, but burdened by the truth of the lines softening around his eyes. Shoving his coveralls low enough for his ego to stretch freely against his boxers, he walked his hands beside your body until his mouth was posed above yours. A suggestion of touch hovered over your knuckles rolling in a rhythm to honor yourself. “I haven’t known calm since I met you.” Your face scrunched cutely at the compliment, and you stopped adding fuel to your fire by bringing both arms around his neck, preparing your lips for a kiss which would not come. “I haven’t known calm since I met you,” he repeated. “So why start now?”
Unexpected pleasure consumed you. Eddie rocked his hips forward, and the raw glide of his cock with the thinnest separation of fabric possible stole anything that wasn’t animal instinct. You locked your ankles behind his thighs, drove the thrust deeper, and he answered by grinding down, working his base between your lips, loyal to you and the sweat beading on his brow.
You wrenched his tank top in your fists and felt it go tight where your chests merged, grazing over your nipples harsher with each rut. His shoulders shifted under your curious roaming, bulk of his body withdrawing. He didn’t stray far, only to tuck his forehead to your neck where he could hear the catch in your throat and the beat of your heart. Cozying to a place so near, you heard his guitar pick schlink past the beads of his necklace. Adjusting, he slipped into a deeper position between your legs, and a kiss was dipped to the top of your collarbone, long lashes brushing your skin as his eyes fell closed.
Cradled as one, Eddie dragged his cock down your heat, and followed the new angle up. Pitiful begs broke faster than his jagged groan. His fat tip notched itself at the top of your tender lips, nestled where your thong gathered, and he kept you on the precipice of your moan—of which you crashed into splendidly.
“That’s—god, Eddie, right there,” you babbled into a whimper.
“Fuck, such a pretty sound, baby,” his voice faltered on the endearment, panting hot and sticky on your throat.
The damp spot on his boxers grew. His unrelenting strokes over your clit fast-tracked you both towards the edge.
“Did you—condoms?”
Perking with interest at your hitched whisper, his stubble scrubbed your jaw in a delight of scratches on his way to nose at your cheek. “Picked ‘em up on my way home last night.” The suggestive rasp in his voice took residence in your rib cage, smitten by the thought of him going through a checkout so he was prepared to fuck you the next day. “They’re in the.. the..”
The rate at which his soul left his body would surprise grim reapers.
“Where’re they?”
Understanding your concern, he kept his eyes screwed shut and whittled at the knot between his brows with his knuckle, drilling away the irritation at himself. “They’re in the glove compartment.. of my car.”
“Oh.” The disappointment was brief. Your body clung to the fever he set, knowing you were both close, and paradise was another weekend away. Thinking quickly, you cupped his cheeks and put a swing in your tone, “We can do other stuff!” Hoping it was good enough, you scrutinized his expression, watching the words register, sink in, brighten his pupils into unholy territory at the idea.
The charm of his dimple was the cherry on top of his two front teeth emerging from the leap of his lips. Earnesty from a thousand endless wells poured out of him, “I love other stuff,” he said, imbuing each round word with a secret.
Jumping up, his enthusiasm was hampered by the roof. “Close call,” he commented to himself, narrowly dodging a concussion. He crouched to some degree, and made his way over to the amps, hiking up his coveralls to his hips as he went. The sheer lust in his weight pressing you to the floor was sorely missed, but you sat up to watch him waddle the amps to the center of the van and tip them, guiding their front plates down flat.
You puzzled out why he would line them up like a short mattress, and began salivating at the thought of him sitting on the additional height, and having his cock better in line with your mouth. “Are those for you?” Eagerness lifted your voice, swam in your glossy eyes. Eddie should be thanking the stars he landed someone so enthusiastic about drinking him whole after putting in hours around the shop, but instead of getting his brain-stopped-working glazed over stare, he slapped the amps twice.
“These are for you, pretty girl. Come sit down. I gotta thank you, remember?”
A memory of torn nylon and unfulfilled promises sparked at his phrasing.
Gotta thank you.
Getting to your feet, you arranged your arms for a bit of modesty, and snuck past the back windows, walking on shaky legs to where he kneeled at one end of the makeshift bed. Pure affection spotlighted you as the sole receiver of his enraptured smile, face aglow. He squeezed the tips of your fingers as you sat, and his lips were the softest thing to grace your cheek. It was the sweetest you’d seen him, especially when he anchored his palms to your hips, and his nerves crept in.
“Just, uh, tell me—or, let me know if I’m doing something you don’t like, okay?”
You tittered, “Okay,” as if you weren’t on the brink of unraveling regardless of skill, or even effort.
Putting faith in the durability of the hard shell encased amps, you leaned back on your hands, lowering to your elbows on the texture plastic, relaxing through the suspense of being on display for someone for the first time—and in broad daylight, too. Dim bedside lamps and flattering angles could obscure much, but why hide anything when your boyfriend spent the better part of his week biting at the cage of adult responsibilities keeping him from you? He’s the one who hid the new order of car wax for an excuse to fuck you sloppy in the back of his van. You basked in his reaction.
Eddie’s hands wandered the curves spread on the pedestal before him. One palm cupped your chest where his spit dried to a sheen, teasing your nipple lightly; juxtaposed, the other shaped itself over your waist and hips, clamping on your knee and smoothing his muzzled grip up your thigh. They joined to ruck the hem of your dress higher. But before the reveal, he bent over the slope of your body to cherish the glitters of sweat sparkling across your sternum. The minutes working against your escapade were unforgiving, but he chose to dedicate a few moments to your natural salt as he hooked his fingers under the stretch of your underwear. The cotton stuck to the praise he’d given you thus far, damp and tight, a work of art. Moving them aside, he stayed kissing the curve of your belly.
Intense, hot-blooded throbs of desperation concentrated on the immediate relief of your wet heat being exposed for appreciating. Fingertips caressed into a curl for his knuckles to adore your puffy lips plumped together, tracing up the other side with his thumb, and cresting the short curls at the top. A tortured lurch in your hips followed his touch when he took it away. Not a strong enough man to deprive his girl for long, he allayed you in kiss down your antsy chase, and sat back on his calves, landing his gaze where his fantasies only imagined.
He didn’t do anything for a few seconds.
Sunlight streamed from the window over his shoulder, shining radiance on the glisten made for him.
His lungs emptied in a thin, wispy breath.
Manners vanished when it came to a starving man. Your excited gasp lapsed into a spell of stunned giggles, which shot into an open-mouthed ah! No composure to spare, he dove in, shouldering one of your legs and hooking an arm around to pry your thong out of his way. Fat tongue, longer than you knew, buried between your lips. Insistent mouth framed by your pussy. Jaw slack to lap up his reward. He leaned his entire being into licking inside you, and dragging upwards, mixing your arousal with his spit and swirling it in a heavy circle. A single direct graze, and your chest rose and fell in stuttered bursts, shaking through the beginning of a sweet whimper. A light suckle from him pulling off to swallow the taste, and escaping your throat was a noise capable of convincing him God was real.
Attentive eyes connected over your mound. Big, brown, and pleased. Pupils inundated by curiosity, yet abundantly aware. Respecting you to the highest degree, he edged his fixation, surrounding your swollen clit with his full lips to feel you throb through the contact. “Eddie—” Your nipples hardened through the helpless pant of his name at the first true suction. Increasingly mesmerized by the response he earned when he added pressure, he stamped his tongue to his top lip and dropped it to his bottom, adding the sort of strokes that had your hand in his hair. “Eddie, you’re gonna make me cum so fast,” you rushed out. The shame in your whisper felt less like shame and more like a compliment when you held the back of his head, and tilted yourself in offering.
In one solid action, you were yanked to the edge of the amp by his grip twisting around your dress, and he looped his arms around your hips to hug you closer still, sealing your gift to his mouth. Muffled whines of gratitude came from his throat, so thankful for the opportunity, eyelashes batting heavily at the privilege of your inner thighs squishing his cheeks. Too beautiful. Could watch it for hours if you had the time.
You stretched out on your five star hotel bed, and closed your eyes, focusing on the articulation of his tongue against your need.
Steady licks devolved into wet kisses sucked between your lips. Pleasure bloomed from the place he persisted, weaving warmth from your stomach to your fingers in his loose curls. You swept his bangs from the beads of sweat plastering them to his forehead, raking them back with your fingernails on his scalp, luxuriating in the connection of your honeyed caress and his moan rumbling against your core. “Feels so—so fucking good,” you gushed.
The weight of one of his arms let up. Smooth calluses swept to your knee, rubbing the spanse of your thigh before shaking a handful of your fat, and leaving a sting of his handprint behind. Your body rocked from him shifting under your legs. Bumpy actions led to his mouth withdrawing, and the sounds of him making out with your cunt were replaced by your heartbeat hammering in your ears. He sat up to his knees briefly, and came back to tend to you in a distracted rhythm, clothes rustling in the process. A question formed in your head, but before you could ask it, he latched his pout around your clit, and worked you into a frenzy.
Pressure prodded at your entrance. One finger glided in without trouble. He fucked you with two, then. Two crooked inside, knuckles shoved against the hypersensitive skin running slick with arousal. He strove for a response until your heels dug into his back, and he knew the sensations were linked—inside and out, mouth and fingers.
Then he took his hand away.
You were left feeling empty when there was nothing to clench around, but his devotion didn’t waver. Your muscles twitched at each immaculate lick, thighs closing in on him, too close to care about whatever else he was doing. You concentrated on yourself, arching into your hands, spoiling yourself with fluttery traces over your nipples, rolling the buds in light pinches at the enthusiasm he had for savoring you. The constant vibrations of satisfaction he hummed on your pussy were enough to have you dripping, and when his big fingers stretched you open again, pumping you full in a few thrusts along the base of nerves which burned your cheeks, the van echoed every indecent soppy smack.
And again, there was a sensation of him curving his fingers deeper than normal before his shoulder dropped, and viscous yearning flowed after the emptiness.
A repetitive soft thumping noise blended to the back of your consciousness.
Eddie committed his sense of self to making you cum. Learning the unambiguous signs of your release, and being the reason they manifested, became his purpose. Sucking ceaselessly, investing the curve of his lips, his agile tongue, his entire mouth to heed the steady motion. Fingers still coated in sticky lewdness, they returned to fuck you too. Your deep breaths turned shallow, stomach seizing on moans and releasing them in trembling gasps. Waves on waves on waves of bliss crested under your hot skin, and your voice went too tight in your throat to not drive him crazy, “Eddie, I’m gonna—!”
Groans in the lower octave of a man enjoying himself shaped your release crashing over you.
The intimacy of his tongue on your oversensitive clit was incomparable, sending you into shamelessly grinding on his mouth, huffing out tiny whimpers as your muscles braced around him. Tighter, and tighter, until the tension became too much, and you were shivering for his mercy, riding the last jolts of your climax snug against his nose. “Please,” you squirmed for less, then when he gave you less, your ankles locked behind his back through the torture of a few more.
Doses of euphoria swam in your veins. Sinking from your high, heaviness blanketed your limbs. Bonelessness seeped from top to bottom. Tingly warmth took over, relaxing you to a state of clarity, flourishing in the scratch of Eddie’s five o’clock shadow on your inner thighs. He let go of your underwear, issuing an apology for where the material cut into your skin with a gentle roam over your hip as both hands left you.
The bend where the underside of your knees draped his shoulders bounced at an impressive speed.
You peered over your curves to sate your curiosities. Eddie’s temple rested on your leg, bangs askew and hair a mess of frizz and curls stuck to the sheen on his neck. He’d yet to move from his position, laying his head where he could, face angled to admire his work, eyes heavy-lidded past the point of inebriation. Ambient sun decorated the glisten around his mouth. A gleam of drool wet his red lips, flushed darker than his cheeks, which he pressed into a slow swallow over your tender cunt.
His exhale cooled the wetness before his tongue warmed it up.
A sharp hiss jumped into a whine of his name. “S’too much,” you strained. A wrecked man, Eddie couldn’t hear you through the pride you afforded him, flirting delicate kisses on your overworked clit, surrendering to the hold you had over him, and reveling in the aftermath of making you cum. Gradually going limp, his nose mashed to your mound, mouth hung open, pushing your orgasm in lazy laps. Another cry, beg, aftershock of his name and the burden of his forehead fell to your hip crease, filling his lungs in uneven drags. The break in sensory overload was appreciated; a sigh of relief.
You sat up and dropped your legs from their mantle, intent on clearing the fuzz from your mind, but—Eddie’s elbow rubbed a fierce tempo along your calf. The motion synced with the fast-paced squelch you heard earlier, before it faded to the background along with the soft thump and rustle of clothes. All of it came together in an echo of answers. Straightening up further, you witnessed exactly how worked up he was over your pussy.
Speechless awe overrode your ability to form sentences
In the gap framed by your thighs, his body shuddered through the fervent strokes focused over his lap. With his coveralls slacked to the tops of his thighs, he cupped his balls over the waistband of his boxers, skin bouncing in his palm, soft grip protecting their load while his other hand worked his length. Clear slick trickled over his knuckles, fingers slipping over the cream gathered at the head and guiding it down. Absolutely candid in his attraction, he fucked his fist using your arousal as lube.
In just a few twists over the blushy needy tip, he pumped the base in effort to make himself last, and peeled his sticky cheek off your thigh, looking up at you. Whiskey eyes awfully honest, awfully clear and round, he said, “You’re about to make me cum so hard.” In the vocal pause, the wet glide of his palm drove him to the edge, and his tone grew pointed as he went beyond the point of slowing down, “Like, now.”
The reason behind his direness took a moment to register, but when it did, panic flickered through you.
“Oh—shit—uh,” you stuttered. He needed a place to cum, and in your post-orgasmic daze you dropped your chin to think of your tits first, but had the wherewithal to decide against the possibility of him misaiming onto your dress. Beside you, the blanket was mostly stuck under the amps, and there wasn’t an extra rag in sight. His tank top was an option, but you thought of a better one. “My mouth!” you insisted with a gesture. “I’ll—” swallow.
Eddie was already to his feet. The van rocked with his heavy boots, wide stance stretching his coveralls tight around his legs, and undershirt pushed up out of the way. He braced one hand on the roof, cushioning his head bent to the metal in order to stand, and resumed his pace. You stuck your tongue out. The immediate pressure of his cock prodded the flat middle. Tasting yourself for the first time, the tang was surprising, but welcomed by the familiar salt leaking from his tip mixing with your spit. Warming up to the blend, you swirled sultry licks on the sensitive underside he avoided, and his tattooed stomach clenched.
Sitting pretty, you knew what he liked and cupped your tits together, gazing up at him with a submissive pinch between your brows. “So goddamn hot,” he grunted out, jaw clenched as if he were mad, stroking himself faster. His middle finger rammed over your lip on every pass. It might swell. It might bruise. “So—mmm—f’king hot.” Breaths jagged, his thighs flexed from the buckle in his knees, staggering him a step forward enough to put tension on your gag reflex. You clutched his jumpsuit into your fists. His rough groans shook through his stature. Building cusps of his release stuttered his hand flying over his cock, jerking himself off in bursts as pleasure peaked under his skin. The scrunch of concentration above his nose deepened. His stomach tightened in pulses, pecs jumping with his gasp, “Gonna,” and he was spilling into your mouth.
A moan made its way through your throat before it closed in a quick swallow. Tongue out, he trembled as he coated you some more. The first two shots were heavy, the rest followed suit, filling you for another round which you accepted with your lips snug around his fat tip. He doubled over at the achy raw sensation of your cheeks hollowing. Baby, he throbbed into you, flinching, yet giving. Allowed, you polished swirls over the throbbing head, lapping up any remains. You sat there with his clean cock in your mouth, meditating on the line drawn from the tattooed dragon wrapped around the sword pointing at the trail from his navel to the thick patch of curls at his base, which you could only reach when he was going soft, as he was then.
He tucked himself into his boxers after you pulled away, and sank to his knees. The sweat on his forehead merged with yours, oily noses pressed together, eyes hardly open as he trusted you to hold him up. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” his voice came hoarse with sincerity, anchored by the current of true longing flowing from the depths of his past. “How much it means to me, making you feel good like you make me feel good.” For Eddie, having proof of the good he could provide for you validated parts of himself he hadn't acknowledged for years. “Sorry I made it about myself in the end there. I, uh—ha—I couldn’t help myself when you were getting into it, and saying my name, ‘nd stuff.” Your bark of laughter encouraged his shy giggle, all bashful and humble.
Kissing his smile, your lips connected on the fated scents of each other after a hot and heavy day at work, and he sighed into palms fitting themselves to his jaw, mouth fixed in a taut smile as he worked through the happiness welling in his throat.
You told him, “Make me cum like that, and you can do whatever you want, Munson.” He snorted at his name, and played with strands of hair over his face, hiding his stupid grin. “I’m serious. Not that I thought you’d be bad or anything, but that was beyond good. Like, really good.” You should stop talking. “And it was flattering. Like, hot. It was really hot,” you decided, “knowing you couldn’t stop touching yourself—”
“Stop,” he complained in an embarrassed whine. Unable to take praise outside the heat of the moment, his gaze made friends with the floor while he mumbled about how he was a motivated learner and pulled out all his tricks to impress you, tucking his chin to avoid owning his skill. He dropped the act on a dime. Pointing, an overabundance of pride entered his tone once more, “You, uhm.. you christened my amp.”
“Huh?” You spread your legs to see. Utter mortification stung your nerves at the sticky stream of arousal, spit, and climax drying down the side of the plastic, wetting his piece of expensive equipment. “Oh god, I’m so sorry! Is it okay? Did I damage it—?”
“I got it,” he said with a firm hand to your sternum, laying you flat.
The low rumble in his throat drew near. Staying gentle, he parted your slippery split in a deep lick to your inner heat, running his tongue in broad strokes up the extra passion made just for him, quenching his thirst before your lunch break rendezvous was over. An appreciative kiss was bestowed on your clit before he smoothed your underwear into place. He wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist, and helped you up. The amp was left how it was.
Eddie opened his arms, and you understood. Moving slow through the syrup in your limbs, you straddled his lap, settling yourself over his softened cock, sensitive selves brushing through clothes. He reached behind him and popped open the door. Fresh air smacked rivers of sweat, cooling and calming. You melted into the other’s embrace, bonding in the last moments of your time together.
Sun glanced off the wood paneling, casting a glow on his puffy face. Sleepy eyes, messy hair, unbearably adorable grin—the type of candid expression showing how honored he was to share the same breath in the limited space between your chests. Lovesick eyes, bed head, face he’d have to wash in the bathroom sink with hand soap. So handsome. You combed the delicate hairs at his nape up into his bun, scratching tingles through his body. The threat of being caught was ignored for one minute longer.
Traces of humor rounded his clipt tone, “I need you next weekend. ‘Kay? I don’t care what we gotta do—if we gotta send Buckley off on some island vacation—I want some real alone time with you.”
“What? Is the van not good enough?”
“No,” he answered your tease with a serious drawl, raising his eyebrows. “This was just to hold us over until then. I don’t wanna make a habit of this, ‘cause then this? This is all I’ll think about when I’m supposed to be, y’know, working. Fixing shit. Not.. picturing you with your tits out.” Speaking of the distraction, he tugged your shirt down, and you fell into a fit of giggles, snickering against the crook of his neck as you stuffed the hem in your dress, and he crawled the straps up your arms, managing to zip the back up without looking.
Of which your good mood dwindled when you collected yourself. “Aw..”
“Yeah, it’s kinda worse than I thought it’d be.. Sorry.”
Dirt, motor oil, grime. Streaks, smears, smudges. And plenty of it. The burgundy dress he adored was visibly ruined, and only half way through your clocked-in hours.
You found the silver lining. “Guess I’ll wear black from now on.”
“Black looks good on you,” he assured. You reared back to assess the damage, and he filled the stretch of his palms with two handfuls of ass, ensuring you didn’t lose balance. Always willing to be of assistance, of course. “Oh, and may I say, genius planning on your part with the car wax,” he stressed his admiration of you. “Can’t believe I didn’t think of that myself.”
Not following, you stopped scraping your nail over a patch of dust clinging to your white sleeve. “I thought you hid the car wax?”
“No..”
The next line was predictable. You would meet eyes, wait a beat, and deliver ‘Then.. who did?’ However, Eddie proved his impulsive thoughts won when devious shadows crowded the hook of his smirk, dimple arising. He opened his mouth, and you knew no good would come from it.
“I didn’t even fuck you, and you already can’t remember where you put the—Gah!” He shrieked at your pinch on his nipple, and the van rocked harder with your combined laughter, obnoxious in every organic way.
Casual wasn't an option when you wore this dress. Dialed back lost its meaning one root beer ago. The afternoon delight would live in the fibers of your unspoken language every morning when you looked at each other; coffee, cigarettes, spearmint. Goodbye normal workplace relationship, and good riddance.
~~~
Carl entered the lobby with confusion on his brow. He eyed the CLOSED sign on the door, and shuffled the bottles of wax loaded in his arms to turn it around, almost dropping them in the process. Earsplitting guitar licks and shrill vocals belonging to Iron Maiden beat on the windows to the garage, drawing his attention to the half-dressed mechanic ripping a bite out of his bologna sandwich, and flipping a socket wrench in his hand, head banging along to his music. Carl slid his side-eye away. Questions were not asked on his walk past your desk, merely serving a glance at your forkful of perceptibly congealed squash casserole which hadn’t been microwaved. Better yet, he didn’t address the canvas jacket you wore despite the visible shine dotting your forehead, nor your wheezing breaths as if you’d sat in your chair approximately thirty-nine seconds ago. He continued down the hall in silence.
The hair on your nape stood on end from someone’s gaze on you. The correct choice would be to ignore it, keep your head down, and finish the expense reports due by the time Robin picked you up. But like a good bitch, you submitted.
Waiting for you was Eddie’s cocky grin. Through the dusty glass pane indulgent curves of mischief edged his eyes into smug little crescents glinting from the secret between your bodies. Boundless amounts of vanity broadened his chest, pecs jumping as he tightened the sleeves of his coveralls tied around his waist. He peacocked in a slow turn to bend over the engine he was working on, shifting from foot to foot and leaning his hands on the car, flexing through the motion to catch swathes of shadows on the swell of his triceps leading to his hardened shoulders, strong back taking shape under his tank top. Mesmerizing. You couldn’t begin to imagine a world where you could keep the dreamy sigh out of your voice when Carl’s bewildered question arose.
“Wait—Were these here the whole time?” Judging by the plastic bounce and cardboard scramble, he had dropped one of the bottles, and when he dropped to his knees to grab it from behind a mop bucket you forgot to empty, he spotted the box of car wax you ordered at the start of the week and misplaced amongst the chaos in the storage closet.
“Oh? Were they?” you wondered. Stuffing the casserole in your mouth, the fork tines scraped across your teeth on its way out, chewing with your cheek propped on your fist. Blinking sleepily at the purply blue bruises you left on Eddie’s neck the morning before, you replied from faraway, “Weird. Thought I left them on the shelf.. Maybe the garage is cursed like Hawkins, too.”
#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson#stranger things#eddie x reader#eddie munson smut#mechanic!eddie#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things fanfic#the yes policy
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“𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐩 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥” - 𝐀 𝐑𝐚𝐟𝐞 𝐂𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧 𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 | 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟏 𝐨𝐟 𝟑
+18 𝓜𝓲𝓷𝓸𝓻 𝓓𝓝𝓘
𝙱𝚞𝚕𝚕𝚢𝙵𝚛𝚊𝚝!𝚁𝚊𝚏𝚎 𝚡 𝚂𝚠𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚛𝚝!𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛
𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐒: 𝐁𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐆𝐚𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 | 𝐏𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 | 𝐒𝐢𝐳𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤
*total fic is 15K - dropping daily
6.8K <- the first chapter is the longest 🩷
𝓇𝒶𝒻𝑒𝓎𝓈𝒸𝓊𝓇𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝒷𝒶𝓃𝑔𝓈 𝓀𝒾𝓃𝓀𝓉𝑜𝒷𝑒𝓇 - 𝓌𝑒𝑒𝓀 𝓉𝒽𝓇𝑒𝑒
𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙/𝖘𝖈𝖍𝖊𝖉𝖚𝖑𝖊
⚠️warnings contain spoilers⚠️
Mean!Rafe, Bully!Rafe, bulling, Rafe is an ass, name calling, degredation, swearing, drinking, smoking, drug usage, kissing, praise, size kink, unprotected sex, oral (female receiving), oral (male receiving), rough oral, multiple orgasms, spanking, violence, fighting, ownership kink, pet names, multiple POVs, violence, gore, horror, stalking, blood mentioned, gaslighting, lovers to enemies to lovers, reader is quick to forgive, mentions of mutual masterbation, teasing, cheating, possessive Rafe, jealousy
*grammatical errors in the text chain are intentional
𝓒𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂: Sweetheart!Reader isn’t from the OB. She met Kiara (roomate) at college and quickly became friends with the Pogues. The group decided to join the reader, working at Camp Salem which she attended every summer since she was little. After junior high she became a camp counselor herself. Sweetheart!Reader is just that, a sweetheart. She’s a lover-girl and quick to forgive. She’s hard to read regarding her sexual experience—her sweetness is irresistible to Rafe. He fantasizes about corrupting her and stripping her of that. Sweetheart!Reader wears her heart on her sleeve, making her the perfect target for her bully, Rafe Cameron.
𝓡𝓪𝓯𝓮’𝓼 𝓑𝓪𝓬𝓴𝓼𝓽𝓸𝓻𝔂: Canon-wise this Rafe is the closest to Season 1 Rafe. He is the definition of touch starved, touched but untouched, craving intimacy because it makes him feel better, even if it's just for a few moments. The only awful thing he did in his past in this AU is to be an asshole to the Pogues. He and the Kook trio are serving community service hours assigned from the university at Camp Salem after getting in trouble for something at the end of the last school year (undisclosed drinking violation). This being something they couldn’t pay their way out of.
Reader’s POV:
“I thought he was on archery duty,” Kie mumbles as you look down from the lifeguard tower on the 6’2” nightmare of a man strutting toward the water. He sets the whistle in his mouth, hands resting on his toned hips, his stupid backward cap on his perfectly quaffed head of hair. Rafe motherfucking Cameron.
“Him and JJ wouldn't stop arguing… Mrs. Mazie was worried one of them would…” You let your voice trail away as you mimic drawing the bow back, shooting and arrow straight at Rafe.
“Fair. That tracks,” Kiara laughs weakly—nothing surprising either of you anymore.
This is where I go to find peace. Where I go to make a little extra cash for the summer. Camp Salem is mine, and it always has been. Rafe’s whistle screams through the noise, making all heads turn to him just like he likes. Always and forever the center of attention. “No roughhousin’. Aight? I’m not gonna rescue your ass. If you drown, you drown,” he barks, fishing a fresh spliff out from behind his ear, replacing it with his whistle.
“What the hell is he doing?” You scoff in disbelief as he lights up a smoke in front of the kids. You hear a wolf whistle come from the woods. Rafe turns over his shoulder with a smile, ignoring the swimmers as he watches Kelce and Topper hike toward the shore with a cooler.
“What do you think’s in there?” Kiara groans, but you both know the answer. Beer.
“Rafe, are you kiddin-”
”Shut the fuck up,” he stops you before you can even start chewing him out, pointing his big fingers and lit joint up at you before taking another drag. “M’fuckin’ thirsty. Okay? It’s 100 fuckin’ degrees, princess. Have some goddamn compassion,” he taunts through a thick cloud of smoke, catching a beer as Kelce lofts it in the air, the brunette quickly cracking it open.
“Isn’t this the kinda shit that got him in trouble in the first place?” You backchat to Kie, catching Rafe’s ears as well.
“The fuck you talkin’ out of your ass for like you know me. Huh?” He spits.
“I was talkin’ to Kie.”
“If you've got shit to say, you can say it to my face... Ya know, scratch that. I vividly remember tellin’ you to shut the fuck up.” Your mouth falls open in disgust, the sour expression on your face making him smile smugly. “You hear me that time, or are you hard of hearin’, sweet cheeks?”
“Loud n’ clear,” you sigh and roll your eyes away, returning your attention to the water to do his job.
“Rafe,” Kelce calls out, taking a few steps back with the football. Rafe runs closer to shore, right in your line of sight, slamming the rest of his beer as he runs. He crushes the can in his fist before catching the ball, making the two boys whistle and cheer.
“Your can, Rafe,” Kiara scolds pointing to the litter wedged in the sand.
“Think you got it, Kie,” he taunts, leaving it behind for Kiara to clean up out of spite. She flips him the bird, crossing her arms tightly over her chest, grumbling something about him being a useless asshole.
Why is he so fucking awful?
𝐹𝓁𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀…
"Do you know where you're going?" You whisper out of the corner of your mouth, grabbing the door for Kiara. The two of you press through the university doors, walking with the flow of traffic.
"No fuckin' clue," she chuckles. "I don't remember shit from orientation."
"Neither do I," you sigh, adjusting your book bag strap nervously.
"Hi, y/n." The sound of his voice sends you into a tailspin. Your breath hitches; heart, racing wildly.
Holy shit. Holy shit. Relax. Just relax. "Hi, Rafe," you smile, looking toward his deep voice, but he’s already down the hall, lost in a crowd of frat boys, vanishing behind the lecture hall doors.
"That was... Well... Umm-" Your roommate teases.
"Shut up-”
"Hard to watch," Kie continues mockingly. "You know… I know Rafe all too well. That's Sarah’s older brother. He’s a mess, y/n. A literal walking red flag: drug dealer, cliché frat boy douchebag, daddy issues up the ass, sex addict… A fuck boy, at the very least. Are you sure you even wanna mess with that?” She looks back at you in disdain that you even showed the slightest bit of attraction in the first place.
“All I said was ‘he was cute,’” you correct her, ambling toward the same lecture hall as Rafe, feeling your excitement rise.
"Yeah… Sure”
“What does that mean?” You scoff.
“You gave him “the eyes”,” she knocks. “You like him, which is fine, I guess… He’s just gonna be a fuckin’ problem for you. A big problem. HUGE. Mark my words. You did not choose an easy one.”
“I didn’t choose anyone…”
“Yeah? Well he chose you,” she adds cautiously as you walk through the doors, the two of you matching Rafe’s baby blues—the man clearly waiting to catch your eye again. The two of you walk toward the group of frat boys sprawled out in the back. Rafe slaps the guys next to him, whispering something that has them pushing down a couple seats.
Rafe’s gaze trails up your body as smirk rolls across his lips. Holy shit. You swallow hard, feeling your cheeks warm up. “Hi, Rafe," you breathe.
"Hey, Y/n," he welcomes you warmly.
"Can I sit here?"
”’Course you can,” Topper jumps into your conversation, speaking before Rafe can. Rafe furrows his brows, his glare cutting over to his friend. Jealousy? Maybe he’s interested. You take a seat in a desk, Rafe quickly adjusts to move a little closer, his muscular arm skimming yours.
“You settling in, sweetheart?” Sweetheart? Sweetheart. Me? Rafe gives you a sinful smile before wetting his plump bottom lip. He shifts slightly, letting his knee-graze yours as well. You hadn't seen him in a week. He was on campus helping his sister move into the dorms, sweetly offering to help you carry in your largest box when he saw you struggling in the stairwell. It was a small gesture, but honestly you've thought about it ever since.
“I am. Thank you,” you smile, going to speak again but you’re cut off by your professor's voice booming through the room.
"Oh, hey," Rafe whispers, not the least bit concerned about class starting. You look over at him, catching his flirty smile as he fishes his phone out of his pocket. “Before I forget again. Can I get your number?”
“Mhmm.” is all you can manage as you fumble for your phone and your words.
"You comin’ by the frat on Friday?"
“Friday? Yeah. Sure… Is there a party?”
“Yeah. First week of school. Of course, there’s a party. We should get together before then, though. What are you doin’ tonight?"
Tonight? "Oh. I-”
"I can stop by your dorm?" You feel his touch again as his rough finger brushes your thigh ever so slightly. “Just to hang out. We can relax, watch a movie, get to know each other better," he rasps. “Nothin’ more. Aight? I can tell you’re nervous, princess. I don’t wanna make you nervous,” he assures. Damn, that sounds like a lie, leaving his lips. His perfect fucking lips.
Damn… I'm in trouble.
“I’d love that.”
Rafe’s POV:
Atta girl.
Fuck, she’s hot. And she knows it, too. Those legs, that dress, those fuckin' tits… She sneaks little glances at me out of the corner of her eye, positioning her body to get even closer. She’s a good girl. So damn good. I can tell she's a sweetheart. She’s gotta be a virgin… Or is she? Either way, I can’t wait to show her a thing or two. I’m gonna ruin this girl. It’s been a week since I saw her last. I was hopin’ I’d see her on campus, get her number, set somethin’ up. Shit… This is the best case scenario.
Finally… I look up at the clock as it ticks to the top of the hour. I watch as she stands up from her seat, her little dress catching on her upper thighs. “I’ll see you later, Rafe,” she coos. “Nice to meet you, Topper.” She brushes her dress down, skirt shifting over her ass as she walks. Ugh, she's fuckin’ mine.
“Nice meetin’ you too, sweetheart.” Topper calls and I roll my eyes.
“Can you not read the room, Thornton. She’s taken,” I gloat as I watch her and Kie walk toward the steps. She glances back at me, giving me a wordless invitation. You want me to chase you, princess. I can do that.
“Taken? By who?”
“By who?” I mock him, scowling in disgust. “You that dumb?”
“Damn, she’s sexy,” Topper sighs blissfully, ignoring me completely, just provoking me. I throw my elbow at him, catching him in the gut.
“The fuck did I say?” I snap through a raspy laugh letting only a fraction of my annoyance bleed through. “Stop pushin’ me, Top.”
“M’just sayin’,” he laughs as he gathers his things too.
“No shit she's hot.” I scoff as I stand up, heading out before any of the boys can catch up with me. “Stay in your fuckin’ lane, bitch.”
"Where are you off to, Cameron?" Topper yells through the lecture hall.
"Guess, buddy,” I smirk at him before passing through the doors. Y/n seperates from Kiara. Thank, god. She looks from the left to the right, settling on the right. "Wrong way, sweetheart," I call. Y/n turns on her heels, the corners of her pouty lips curling into a smile. "You're looking for your next class. Yeah? Freshman math?”
"Mhmm. Yeah... Will you help me?" She questions. "I don't remember anything from orientation."
"Of course," I smile warmly as she looks up at me. "You know the professor’s name?”
“Shell-Shell something….”
“Shellenberger.”
“I think so.”
“Well, sweetheart. I think you're right. Stupid fuckin’ name. How are you supposed to remember that shit? Huh?” I laugh lightly, making her return a giddy, nervous giggle in agreement. She pulls out her schedule and I bite back a smile as I watch the paper quiver slightly in her trembling hand. “Mhmm… Over here." I rest my hand on the small of her back, guiding her in the right direction.
"Shit," she grumbles, tossing her gaze down in defeat. "I'm such a freshman.”
"Nothin’ wrong with that. You’ll figure it out," I breathe, brushing my hand lightly over the top of hers. Y/n takes a little breath, biting her glossy bottom lip between her teeth at the slightest bit of contact between the two of us. Shit. She’s stunning…
We round the corner, stepping toward her next class. “Well thank you, Rafe,” she smiles as she steps away again but I reach out for her hand, leading her back to me.
“You got a few minutes?” I ask, my question making her beautiful eyes sparkle as her body pulls closer and closer as I take the opportunity to lead her away from the crowd. "It’s been like, what, a week? I’ve been thinkin’ about you a lot,” I mumble. She takes a little breath, trying to think of something to say but she’s a little too flustered. “You're beautiful.” I lose her completely as she glances away bashfully before returning her eyes to mine.
"Thank you, Rafe," she murmurs. Shit. I can get used to that... My name sounds so good on her lips.
"So, am I gonna get you alone tonight?" I ask, making her eyes widen and flutter.
“Oh. Umm… Yeah. I think I can talk Kie into leaving,” she whispers delightedly.
"That’s great news, sweetheart. Just perfect," I smile as I rest my hand against the wall, moving nearer, giving us a little more privacy. “I’d ask you to come to the frat house but it’s pretty crazy right now. And I think Top has a crush on you too. Can’t have that...”
She scrunches her cute nose, clearly uninterested in him, still playing sweet regardless. “I think he was just bein’ nice.”
“Nah… You shoulda heard him talkin’ about you when you left. I mean he’s my buddy, but the guy’s a dog. Ya know?”
”Really?”
”Mhmm… Don’t worry. I had your back. Thornton’s a dick… I set him straight.”
”Thank you,” she smiles sweetly.
“‘Course. Well, I’ll see you tonight. Hmm?” I ask, watching as her smile creeps a little wider as she hugs her books a little tighter.
“See you tonight.”
Reader’s POV:
Your mind starts to race as the movie continues, each passing minute drawing the two of you closer and closer. Rafe smirks down at you, watching your cozy shorts ride up on your thigh as you move your leg just over the top of his. His large, ringed hand traces over your skin, gripping you tight.
The night’s played out like a game of checkers; Rafe, waiting on you to make your move before he made his next, careful to not skip ahead or go too far. He’s been nothing but a gentleman, but that hunger inside you wishes he would just push all that aside. Should I just go for it? I can’t help but get caught up staring at his lips. Kissing on the first night… Is that too forward? Damn. I don’t think I’ve focused on a second of this movie.
The scenes blur together, your thoughts flurry your mind as your heart pounds louder than the sound of the movie. The rapid beating thumps in your ears, embarrassingly so. You look up at him, wondering if he hears it as well, but he smiles at you sweetly. “You alright, princess,” Rafe asks, his voice deep and husky, making your stomach flutter at the sound. Just go for it... If you don’t do it now, you'll regret it. I’ve heard the way the girls on campus talk about him—seen the way they look at him. If I sit here and do nothing, he’s gonna find someone who will…
You sling your leg over fully, taking a seat on Rafe’s lap as your sexual tension boils over. It’s like he was already waiting, his large arm quickly wraps around your waist, pulling you even closer, his other hand drifts into your hair, twisting in your strands, taking you by surprise when his lip crash into yours. You gasp; lips parting slightly, letting Rafe’s tongue slips between, making all your tension melt away.
You match his pace, slowing down with him, savoring the feeling of his soft lips against yours. A low groan escapes him, landing on yours lips, sending chills down to your spine, straight to your throbbing core. Rafe pulls back slightly, leaving you panting, searching for him. “Fuck, Rafe," you breathe in a voice you've never used before as he latches onto your neck; sucking, licking, bitting, making you tilt your head back. He chuckles sinfully against your skin, lighting you on fire before softening his touch completely, working his way back up to your mouth. His kiss-swollen lips ghost over the top of yours, brushing softly.
"I really like you," he hums. “Fuck. I like you a lot, princess.”
"I like you too, Rafe."
”You do?” He croons, the timbre of his voice torturing you.
”I do,” you whisper as you fingers scratch into the hair at the nape of his neck, subtly pulling him in but he hangs back.
"It’s late. What is it? 2 am?" Rafe smiles against your mouth, teasing you shamelessly. He knows exactly what you want but he’s holding true to most of his word from the earlier in the day. “I said we were just hangin’ out, baby. We already went too far…”
“You’re teasing me,” you whisper.
“What? Did you want more?” He asks as his big hand slips under your sweatshirt, tracing your lower back.
“I do,” you whisper needily.
“Mmm’guess, we’re just gonna have to get together tomorrow. Huh?”
“No. I-” You answer quickly. “No…”
“No?” He bullies you, giving you that old money laugh. “You don’t wanna hang out with me, sweetheart?” Rafe whispers warmly against your hot skin.
“You know what I mean,” you sigh, finding yourself at the crossroads between frustration and lust, completely dizzy with the thought of him. Fully consumed in Rafe Cameron. Every part of you wanting every piece of him.
“Tomorrow?”
"Tomorrow," you sigh.
It’s only been a month but, fuck, it feels like longer. I’ve gotten to see him interact with his frat brothers and other girls and it just feels different. He’s so cold and gruff but when he’s around me it’s like that icy exterior melts away. It’s addicting getting to see this side of him— like it’s reserved for me and only me.
There are moments, though… moments where I question if I’m all he wants. I mean, I can tell he likes me, but it’s almost like he’s keeping other girls on standby just in case. Whenever I see him in the hall, he’s always stepping away from a conversation with a different girl or setting his phone face down on the desk before I take a seat… And, it’s moments like that where I get more and more unsure…
Rafe can see it too. I swear he can hear what I’m thinking because he’s quick to assure me I'm way off the mark. He says all the right things, swearing up and down that he’s only interested in me. It’s hard to deny that way he looks at me—the way he touches me: tender and rough, ebbing and flowing between the two leaving me like putty in hands. It’s hard to deny that fact when our talks get deeper and deeper. He confides in me. He tells me things I have to promise not to tell anyone else. I can see him letting his guard down. He’s a very different Rafe than the world knows. He’s my Rafe.
I don't want to be casual. I don't want to be one of “his girls”. Kie said he has daddy issues… Maybe that's why he’s too afraid to commit to us—to me.
Every night I’m pulling myself away right before I take it any further just waiting for his actions to match his words. But it’s getting harder… It’s next to impossible to push aside my urges. I've touched his body; felt the deep ridges of his abs under his shirt, the muscles of his broad chest pressed against the palms of my hands. I've stroked his thick cock over his grey sweats, sucking his tip through the fabric, getting us both off just grinding on his lap alone.
Maybe that next level of intamacy is the connection we need. Maybe sex is all it’ll take. I'm not a virgin. What am I holding out for anyways? Maybe if I give him what I know he wants he’ll be all in. I want him—but I want to feel secure. I want his eyes to stop wandering. I want to be everything he wants. I just don't think I am.
BEEP. BEEP.
You look out your dorm room window as Rafe leans out of his truck with a smile, beckoning you to come outside. You gather your things, running down the stairwell, before making your way out the front door. Rafe’s eyes rake over your body, taking in the view as you walk toward his ride.
He hops out just before you make your way there, pulling you into his arms, looking down at you with a smile. “Damn, you look so fuckin’ pretty,” he praises breathlessly, leaning in for a kiss, claiming your lips. Butterflies swirl in your stomach, tummy fluttering with excitement. You smile against his lips, breathing a similar sentiment against his, praising how handsome he looks in his crisp white shirt and jeans. “Thank you, princess. You ready to get outta here?” He asks, popping open his passenger’s door, taking your overnight bag off your hands, helping you inside.
His smile widens a little more as you silently set the plans, you, having no intentions of going home as you usually do. He trots around to the driver’s side, a little more pep in his step, tossing your bag in the back before turning the key. “You stayin’ with me tonight, princess?” Rafe asks, through a boyish smile he’s trying his best to contain. Your heart sings seeing him this excited. Maybe I was right.
You roll up to the frat. The large mini mansion flooded with people inside and out, music pouring from the windows and open doors. It’s a madhouse. Rafe chuckles, looking out onto the mess. Just another weekend… “You ready?” He asks as he turns his head to the side, tilting it slightly as his smiles.
“M’ready.”
Rafe helps you out of the car, walking hand-and-hand with you inside the space. Cigarette and weed smoke hangs heavy in the air, mixing with the sticky sweetness of cheap liquor. Rafe walks through the party, greeting the masses as he passes brother after brother, the two of you moving deeper and deeper into the party. He lifts your bag by the strap, gesturing to ask if you want to put this in his room. You nod and smile knowing that there’s no chance you’re leaving if he gets his way.
The two of you walk up the stairs, stepping down the hall, excitement rising as you get closer and closer until he pushes through his bedroom door. As soon as it opens, it shuts again; Rafe backing you against the entry, slamming his lips against yours, wanting nothing more than his mouth on yours. He lifts you into his strong arms, deepening the kiss; the two of you quickly finding your tempo.
Rafe pulls you off the wall, walking with you to his bed, laying you down on top. He grabs the back of his baseball cap, pulling it off his head before tossing it to the side, quickly tearing his shirt away. Your eyes widen at the sight of his broad, bare chest, fully exposed. His gold chain glints with his quickened breathing—his toned abs, and deep v-lines kiss the band of his Calvin Klein boxer, poking out of his jeans. He crawls toward you, rolling his big body into yours, crushing you under his weight as he kisses you again, grinding at the perfect cadence. You whimper into your kiss, making him moan into your parted mouth.
DING.
Rafe pulls away from your kiss, grabbing his phone out of his back pocket, eyeing the screen before setting it down on his nightstand. You look back up at him, Rafe not missing a beat, his lips quickly greeting yours again. His tongue slides between your lips, reeling with yours, making you feel like you could float away.
DING. DING. DING.
You're pulled back to reality, stomach plunging as Rafe gets back-to-back notifications. He starts to kiss you a little deeper, your attention obviously getting pulled elsewhere, going out of his to bring your focus back to him, biting your lip and squeezing your hip, whispering sweet-nothings to cloud your thoughts.
DING.
“Rafe…” You sigh, unable to concentrate.
“Just frat stuff, princess. M’sorry,” he mutters. “Just focus on us. Yeah?”
DING.
“Can you at least put it on silent?” You clip as you grab for his phone, catching a name.
Jilly Tate
Jillian? As in Delta Gamma Jillian? You look up at Rafe uneasily. He takes his phone back, flicking the device on silent before returning to your lips.
“Stop,” you whisper.
“What? Why?” He asks dumbly, like he doesn’t already know you know something’s up, continuing to kiss the corner of your lips and cheek as he reaches over, setting his phone down. Without thinking you reach for it, snagging it off the nightstand before opening up his messages. “What are you doin’?” He huffs like he’s got something to hide.
And he does.
Jilly Tate: Rafey
Jilly Tate: Are you partying tonight?
Jilly Tate: Rafe Cameron??
Jilly Tate: you better not be busy again
Jilly Tate: I’m gonna need you to convince me to get out of bed
Jilly Tate: you better make it worth my while?
Jilly Tate: Maybe you need some motivation.
You look up at him as he looks down at you uneasily, not knowing what you’re reading, just knowing who it’s from. He can see the sadness in your eyes, letting him know that it’s most likely not something you weren’t meant to see. You flick your franic finger fast scrolling a little higher, catching pages and pages of messages populating from this week and last
"So, are you… Are you hanging out with Jillian too?" You force the words past your lips, trying to remain as unbothered as possible.
"Yeah, Y/n. Nothing there. Just friends. I swear." Just friends... That doesn’t look like just friends. "Y/n... you okay, baby?" He asks, knowing full-well you aren’t.
"Uh, yeah-yeah. I'm alright," you lie as you look at his phone, watching as three little dots appear, a new message forming from Jillian.
Goddamit, Rafe. You shut your eyes softly, doing your best not to cry as you see the image: blonde curls, piled in a messy bun, pouted lips, and bedroom eyes. A mirror selfie on her bed. Just Rafe’s oversized frat T-shift and a barely-there thong swallowed up by her perfect ass. "Sweetheart?" He asks again, his voice a little more unsure than the first time.
"Yeah."
"You okay?"
Fuck off... Absolutely not. Yet another message rolls in. Rafe’s eyes tighten to yours. "Calm down, Rafe. It’s Topper," you mutter.
"He’s probably just wonderin’ where I’m at, baby.”
Fuck that. You open the message, typing a ‘call me’ reply before taking it off silent, setting it down on the bed before looking up at Rafe; your frusterstion peaked. The tears you’re trying to contain haze your eyes. Rafe clearly has something going on with Jillian. Even if I'm somehow mistaken, he's still getting text— still getting together with her, still getting sexts.
RING. RING. RING.
"Take it,” you whisper.
"I'll talk to him later, princess."
"Take. It."
"Y/n. I-"
CLICK.
Rafe’s eyes double as you make the decision for him, hitting the accept button, putting it on speaker as well. You lift an eyebrow in his direction, challenging him to speak.
"Uh... Umm. Hey, Top."
"Yo. You comin’ or what? Where are you?" He yells over the party downstairs.
"M’up in my room. I’ll be down in a few minutes. I gotta go, man."
"Wait a second... Are you with Jillian?"
"Holy shit," you respire, pinching your eyes shut. A few stray tears fall. You lift your finger fast, brushing them away before he can see.
“No.”
"Bullshit, man. I hear her. Hi, Jilly." You reach up, shoving Rafe off you before crawling off the bed, gathering your things on the floor before bounding toward the door as those same tears stream down your cheeks. Goddammit. Rafe reaches out for you, hauling you back in; his cheeks, flushed; eyes darting frantically.
"Let me go, Rafe.”
"Y/n, please. I can explain.”
"I'm so fuckin' done, Rafe. Just - Fuck! Just leave me alone!" You hiss.
“Shit, y/n. She’s - She's just a friend, baby. Yeah, we fuck. But, she means nothing to me. Nothing. And, I mean nothing to her I swear. C’mon. You're my girl. Just stop.”
"All you do is fuck? Like you’re fucking her still?" You ask as you step toe to toe with him, looking up at his flustered face, silently pleading he isn't doing just that.
"Y/n..." He is… Oh my god. “Baby, please.”
"I'm not your fuckin' baby, Rafe."
"It’s nothing.”
“Nothing? You're joking… What are you doing? Why are you playing me?”
”I’m not playing you?”
”Yes you are!”
”Fucking how? How the hell am I playin’ you. Huh? Been hanging out with you all month. Asked you to come here didn’t I? I’m in here with you right now. Not her. Didn’t even tell her we were havin’ a fuckin’ party. Alright? How am I possibly playin’ you?”
“Why are you gaslighting me? You’re acting like I didn’t just read those fucking texts, Rafe? You said I was the only one you wanted but you were obviously still talking to her; fucking her. If I couldn’t come to this fuckin’ party would you be doing this same shit with her?”
“No! The fuck are you even sayin’ that for? Fake-ass scenarios. Throwing a bitch fit about ‘what ifs’. I'm here with you. I only want you-”
“Bullshit.”
“It’s not bullshit,” he booms. “I like you. Okay? Tate and I haven’t fucked in days. You and I finally started gettin’ serious. I told her I was done. I suppose you read that too though. Right?”
“Days? Days, Rafe? How many?”
“I don’t know…” He mumbles. You roll your eyes, stepping away but he tugs you back in again.
“Finally started getting serious? Did you actually say that, Rafe?” You soften your voice in sadness. Rafe looks back at you dumbfounded as tears of frustration pool in his eyes too.
“I’m sorry for saying that. I know we're serious, baby.”
“I don't think you do, Rafe...” Rafe puffs out a deep, vexed breath as he runs his fingers through his hair, brushing his bangs off his sweaty forehead, either stalling or trying to calm himself down but regardless he's at a complete loss for words. “Nothing? Seriously…”
“Don’tchu think you're overreacting a little bit?” He drawls. His question setting you off further.
“Overracting? Because if roles were reversed and I was fucking Top it would be “nothing”?”
“That’s not the same and you know it, y/n.”
“So after you left my dorm you were just going and getting pussy from her because you weren’t getting any from me?”
”What?” His voice comes out breathy and hoarse at your accusations. He lifts the collar of his shirt, wiping the tears from his eyes.
”Did you leave my dorm and come back here and fuck her?” You speak slowly, asking him a simple question there was no way he couldn’t understand. He hangs his head, sniffling pitifully. “I can’t believe I wanted to be with you. I can’t believe I wanted to fuck you. Jesus, Rafe. I’m a goddamn idiot.” Rafe’s eyes snap to yours, his gaze wild as he takes in your words.
"Please. Fuck. I'm sorry. I'll change. I swear. I-"
"I’m done, Rafe. I don’t trust you. How can I trust you. You said ‘you liked me’, you said ‘I was the only one’. You lied about Jillian… You couldn’t even tell Topper that you were in here with me. That’s so fucking embarrassing.”
"Shit! Fuck. Just stop. It’s not all my fault. Okay? You - You can’t keep acting like you’re acting either. I had no clue if you really liked me or not. I didn’t think you were actually gonna fuck me. You’re teasing me, you're a fuckin’ tease, y/n. Always keeping me on the edge. I have needs-”
“What? I’m not teasing you, Rafe. And needs? We’ve only been talking for a month. A MONTH! I know you have needs. So do I. But it’s hard to let myself go around you and take it to the next level when you’re always looking around for the next best thing. Because if you were all in, Rafe, your needs would have been met week one.”
“I am all in!"
“You’re not. You just want me ‘cause I said I wanted to fuck, Rafe. I’m not dumb,” you grumble. “You’re just a fuckin’ douchebag,” you spit yanking your arm away before starting down the hall. His heavy feet tromp after you, following you close.
“You’re not listening to me, Y/n. Do you even hear what you’re sayin’ to me. You’re actin’ like such a victim but you were feelin’ insecure all fuckin’ month and you weren’t tellin’ me. Just holdin’ out on me because you thought I wanted other people; ‘always looking for the next best thing’ or whatever the fuck. You’re takin’ your insecurities out on me.”
You turn around fast, pushing your finger into his chest roughly. Looking up into his pathetic, tear-stained eyes. “Was I wrong, Rafe? You gave me reason to worry and I was fuckin’ right,” you scold as you jab your finger into his heart, punctuating each word. “How do you think that feels? Huh? Then you stand here trying to turn the blame on me. You’re not a fuckin’ man… You’re a boy.”
“Yeah? Well, you're actin’ like a fuckin’ bitch.”
“I’m acting like a bitch?” You ask weakly, watching as Rafe’s bottom lip trembles. “Fuck you, Rafe.”
You move to the staircase, pushing through the party as adrenaline and fever courses through your veins, your tears making it impossible to see. Fuck this whole month. Fuck this night. Fuck Rafe. You run your hand across your eyes, collecting tears as you pull out your phone, scouring for an UBER. I just need to get home. I just want to forget this ever fucking happened. But how am I going to forget about him?
I fuckin’ can’t.
Rafe’s POV:
”You were up there with, Y/n?” Topper asks in disbelief. “You two together?”
"Nah. Not anymore." I lift my beer to my lips as I scan the thick crowd gathered in the frat house.
"Not anymore?"
I can hear the judgment laced in Topper’s voice. I roll my eyes in annoyance. "What’s it matter to you"
"Y/n is a dream. I know you're incapable of playin’ the long game, but Jesus Christ,” he snickers drunkenly.
"She's not doing shit with anyone... anytime soon. She said she was ready, but she was lyin’. I know she was fuckin’ lyin’. Just putting me on a guilt trip. Just sayin’ that shit to make me feel bad. She’s a fuckin’ tease.”
"You don't know that."
"Fairly fucking sure." I plop a joint between my lips, lighting it up. "She's fair game, Thornton. Have at it. Good luck gettin’ your dick wet in this century."
"You're unreal, Cameron," he scoffs and laughs. "But, yeah… Shit. I think I'm gonna take you up on that offer."
"Fuck you. You won't."
"Why do you care? You said ‘she fair fuckin’ game’, asshole."
I chuckle with annoyance, shaking my head in disbelief. "Where's the loyalty. Huh? Have my sloppy seconds, Top. It suites you.”
"Not really sloppy if you didn't fuck."
"I fucking tried."
"I've known you too long for you to bullshit me, man." He bullies before draining the rest of his White Claw. "You didn't. I can tell you what you did do… Hang out with her, fuck Jillian on the side cause you weren’t getting any pussy yet. Yet!” He puts an emphasis on that point, twisting the knife in my heart. “And you got caught.”
“Nah.”
”Yeah,” he laughs. “I’d bet my life on it.”
“You’re just yappin’, bitch. Shut the fuck up.”
“She's the prettiest girl here, hands-down; funny, sweet, smart, loyal. You didn't even give her a chance."
I swallow thickly, taking in every word, all of which couldn’t be more true. I did exactly what he said… I messed up. I lost her. I’m a goddamn mess. I crack open a beer, draining it fast enough to drown a thought or two, quickly grabbing another, trying my best to forget. It’s so much deeper than just messing up. Y/n didn't feel safe around me... I made her feel unsure. She made me feel safe. Me… ‘You’re always looking for the next best thing’. She is the best thing… She made me feel something for once. She cares about me. Well, cared… "I mean I could still try and apologize or whatever," I mumble.
"She's too smart, Rafe. She's done with you."
"Fuck you, Top."
"Nah, fuck you."
"You're a dumbass, Rafey. Like painfully dumb,” Kelce pipes in for the first time.
"Yeah? N’what should I have done? Huh?" I spit.
"Literally, the opposite of that,” he laughs, making Topper do the same. “I agree with everything Top said, bud. You ruined a good thing. N’for who?” He adds in a condescending tone, referencing the girls I usually bag—a direct shot at Jillian Tate.
"So it's done then. No hope? Is that what you're telling me?" I scoff, my eyes cutting between the two of them.
"That is exactly what we’re tellin’ you,” Topper adds.
"Screw you, Thornton... That's just because you want her."
"Obviously."
I let out a loud, frustrated growl, popping open the beer bottle with my ringed finger. "You're a dick."
"I'm just speaking as your friend. I'm being honest. And, honestly, I'm going after her the first chance I get. Just lettin’ you know. So we are both clear." He taunts through a thick cloud of smoke. “And you better stop drinkin’, Cameron. Whiskey dick’s gonna getcha. I'm sure you're gonna fuck the first thing you see with a pulse, Rafey. You're a fuckin’ dog. We all know it,” he stammers, his voice barely audible as his words slur together. “Guessin’ you got Big Titty Tate on speed dial.”
"Fuck you, Top.” I steal an extra beer off Kelce’s hands for myself. “You better stop drinkin’. Turns you into a fuckin’ asshole with an actual spine. Keep runnin’ your mouth. I'll gladly put you in your place,” I laugh, only half-kidding, glaring at him, challenging him to keep going. He puts his hands up as a truce— his heavy-lidded eyes letting me know he’s seconds away from a blackout.
Fuck this fucking night.
It’s done… She’s done with me. I lived up to every one of her assumptions. I was the man Kiara warned her about, I'm sure. I’m fucked. I look up from my beer, watching as a beautiful blonde struts across the party— legs for days, fake tits, a deep spray tan that I'm forever bleaching out of sheets after rough night. Her bleach blonde curls bounce with each steps she takes, walking up to my room no less. Jillian Tate…
I got nothin’ to lose anymore. Got no self-respect anyways. The fuck does it matter?
I don't deserve y/n, and I never have. I fuckin’ hate myself.
Reader’s POV:
You take the quizzes in your hands, passing the remainder to Rafe, keeping your eyes glued on the front of the lecture hall.
"Thanks, sweetheart," he whispers, turning your stomach. You feel his leg graze against yours as he slides a little closer. Seriously… A set of two eyes catch yours, not looking at you, their attention given to Rafe.
"Hi, Rafey,” Jillian mouths the words from a few desks ahead. He lowers his gaze to his test, scribbling his name on the side of his scan-tron messily.
BUZZ.
Rafe slips up, leaving his phone face up. You sneak a glance at the message on the screen.
Notification: Jilly Tate - You ignoring me?
Rafe opens his messages, glancing at the screen before fumbling to lock it; just another glimpse of her, her blonde curls laying on his plaid pillow, Rafe’s large hand wrapped around her slight throat. His signature gold ring hugs his pointer finger—that same stupid, pink entrance bracelet looped around his wrist from the dive bar the night before. He catches your focus, putting the pieces together that you saw the exchange, further piling on his guilty conscience. "Y/n?" You hear Rafe’s gravelly voice in your ear. "I can explain."
Seriously… More tears. Fuck. You snatch your stuff, forgoing the test all together, quickly moving to your feet, pressing toward the door, pushing out fast, before weaving through the hallway gridlock.
"Y/n? Hey... Wait." You hear Rafe calling from behind you, the pounding of his steps, nears. "Hey, bab-"
"Stop, Rafe," you weep.
"C'mon. It's just I-"
"Honestly, Rafe. Just stop!"
"Let me explain."
"Explain what? We broke things off and an hour later you were with Jillian."
"Yeah. But we didn't do anything."
"'I saw the picture, Rafe? Are you that dumb?"
”That’s an old picture-”
“Stop lying… I saw your bracelet. Show me some fuckin’ respect and save your excuses for someone else.”
“I was angry. She was just there. I'm sorry. I-”
"Just there… Just there? Why her Rafe? Why Jillian? You ruined everything. You're a fucking trainwreck, Rafe.”
"We weren't together, Y/n," he adds in frustration. “You left me. Remember?”
"Yeah... And, you didn’t even try to get me back. You didn't even come after me. You just went for the next best thing.” You emphasize your words, making his features sharpen.
"That's not fair."
"For who?”
"I was going to try… I was gonna try to make things right today. I just needed you to calm down. Jesus. You’re not even givin’ me a chance"
"Was that your plan that night, Rafe? To let me storm off and calm down so you didn't have to deal with me and my drama, fuck Jillian, and make up with me on Monday, and act like nothing happened. Just act like you didn't bang the girl in the same bed we were kissing in. Like you didn't just fuck the girl that you said I didn't need to worry about.“
"You’re bein’ dramatic"
"Bye,” you scoff annoyedly. “Just, Bye Rafe." You spit, pressing through him, checking his shoulder as you walk past, heading back toward the lecture hall to finish your test. How could I be so stupid?
His hand wraps around you arm a little tighter, pulling you back. “Just stop. Please,” he begs. “I wanna fight for you. Please. I like you, y/n. I like you a lot. More even-”
“More? What the hell, Rafe? How can you sit here and tell me that when you clearly don't? You didn't call or text me to see if I made it home that night. That's the bare minimum, Rafe."
"You're right."
"Jillian... still?" Your voice comes out smaller than before, breaking with emotion as he moves closer, backing you into the wall that he had you on on the first day on class. Now everything’s different… Those same thoughts you had about how sweet he was tarnished completely.
"She means nothing to me, y/n," he assures, soft and slow.
"Rafe… You and I, that meant everything to me. I really liked you. I didn't want anyone else.”
"Me too. I promise. I swear. Alright?”
"Then how could you ruin this over someone who means nothing to you? How?" You ask as you look up at him, watching his eyes shift a lighter shade of blue, tears glistenen and gather on his lashes. He lifts up the sleeve of his sweatshirt, rubbing them away.
"I don't know, y/n. I don't know what's wrong with me."
Even after everything, your heart breaks seeing him this way. His cheeks flush with embarrassment for his actions and his blatant vulnerability. He looks around, letting out a shaky breath, checking to see who’s watching, but the coast is clear. He hangs his head, letting a few stray tears fall to the floor. “Let's just finish the test. We can talk later. Okay?” Rafe looks up at you, his beautiful eyes glinting with a sliver of hope.
“Thank you.”
You reach for the door handle, giving it a twist.
BUZZ.
You step back, pulling your phone out of the book bag instead. Rafe glances at your phone, catching the name of the sender as well—watching the final nail lodge in his coffin.
Messages; Maybe: Jillian Tate; iMessage
The phone trembles in your hand as you open the message. A video? You click onto the little screen watching the scene play out right in front of you. Rafe wraps his large hand around Jilly’s throat, thrusting into her again and again. Just a short video from just above her tits, letting you watch the pleasure on her face as her eyes roll back. The clapping of his skin against her fills his room. Three little dots form below the video, followed by a new message from her.
Jillian: I’m coming to you as a women.
You look up from your phone, the end of the two of you crystal fucking clear.
“Y/n, I’m sorry.”
𝐹𝓁𝒶𝓈𝒽𝒷𝒶𝒸𝓀 𝑒𝓃𝒹𝑒𝒹…
Damn, he's infuriating... But, fuck, is he's handsome. Rafe holds the football in his hands, falling back, his big biceps flex, sending the ball spiraling to Top. Your eyes fall down his perfect body: a loose cropped frat tee showing off his toned abs and deep v-lines. His thick thighs hugged with short Champion shorts. He takes off his hat, running his fingers through his carmel-coloured locks before tugging it on again. His sun-kissed skin glistens under the high-noon rays, highlighting his muscles perfectly.
He smiles at you sweetly, making you turn toward Kie with unease. Rafe grabs the bottom of his shirt, lifting it to wipe off the sweat on his face as he walks closer, his shorts hang dangerously low making you hurt with need. His smile morphs into a smug smirk. Your body tenses up as you just wait for his mocking comments to stab you right through the heart.
"Still staring. Huh?" He taunts, causing Kelce and Topper to laugh in agreement, feeding his ever-growing ego. He catches the football from Top, twirling it between his large fingers as he looks up at you from the sand below. "Kie's in her swimsuit, honey. M'sure you got some tits and ass under there to show the boys. When are you gonna stop dressing like a teenage boy?" His voice oozes with condescension, just quiet enough that you're unsure if Kelce and Topper heard or not. You look at the two, none the wiser; your decision is obviously the wrong move, giving Rafe more ammo. "Scared they heard? Aww... M'Sorry, sweetheart. Did I strike a nerve? C'mon, pretty. It's my last day. Leave Daddy with something to keep in the spank bank. Huh?" He rasps.
"Jesus Christ, Rafe. Can you stop being such a dick?" Kiara snaps, looking down at him in repulsion.
"I can," he breathes as his eyes move from her to you. "But, why would I do that? Hmm?" You turn your eyes away, focusing on the water ahead, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your attention he so desperately craves. "Here," he smiles cruelly as he balls up his shirt, lofting it to the lifeguard tower, landing damp on your chest, cotton mixing with hot sweat. "I'll give you somethin' to put around your pillow when you're humpin' it later." Kelce and Topper laugh louder, catching that part of his dig. Rafe shuts his eyes, letting out his own name in a raspy whine. "Oh, Rafe. Fuck. Just like that, baby."
"Pass it here, Daddy," Kelce piles on, making your cheeks burn with embarrassment.
"You're such a fucking ass, Rafe," you mumble through gritted teeth.
"What's that now?" He gasps dramatically, turning on his heels fast, looking at you wide-eyed. "You want me to fuck your ass, princess?" His sleazy frat boy laugh fills your ears. "Didn't see that comin'. Did you, Kelce?”
"Nah," Kelce chuckles as he catches the football.
"Nasty little thing, aren't you?" His tongue pokes through his perfect teeth, pleased with himself as you flutter your lashes, trying your best not to cry with frustration. "Aww, don't cry, angel. M'sorry. Boys will be boys."
⭐tags⭐ <- tag list on my pinned post (if your name is crossed out, your tag isn’t working): @floredaqueen @rafesthroatbaby @loserboysandlithium @nemesyaaa @theeternaloptimistt @ditzyzombiesblog @cl4uus @aariahnaa @hyperfixationgirl @akobx @daryldixon83 @rafesgiirl @sleepiibunniiii @gri959 @oxpogues4lifexo @babygorewhore @sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @savayvaybIr-blog @starkeysprincess @unrealmirrorball @romaescapes @cades-outsider @namelesslosers @anamiad00msday @buckybarnessweetheart
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hi emm! Since it’s prom season could u make basketball sukuna reacting to someone from the team asking you out for prom?
A/N: hii! i actually received a vv similar request a long time ago and i deleted it because i didnt know how to write it, so maybe this is a sign from God — my redemption time, LMAO
PS: sorry to all my readers who are actually jelly lovers, i am not one of you
“So,” Gojo started, while shoving fries into his mouth, “have you got a date yet? Prom’s comin’ up real quick, y’know?”
The basketball team had just won their last game of the season, and all the players were eating out together in celebration. Sukuna was planning on just spending the rest of the night celebrating with you, like usual, but Gojo dragged him away and you only gave a thumbs up in encouragement. What a girlfriend you were, Sukuna scoffed, handing off your dear boyfriend to Gojo Satoru.
“Why do you care?” Sukuna grimaced at Gojo’s messy eating habits. How could one dare to speak while stuffing their face? Sukuna thought Gojo grew up wealthy, and, hey, aren’t rich people supposed to be, like, super into decorum? Where is this man’s etiquette?
“Sheesh, sorry for asking. I just wanted to know if my friend here,” he nudged Sukuna with his elbow, “needed some help getting a date. No need to be ashamed, Captain. I could hook you up with one of Utahime’s friends.”
“Yeah, no. But since you’re so curious, Satoru, I do have a date, actually.”
“No way, seriously? The big, bad, captain of the basketball team, has a date? For prom? I have to tell Suguru this.” Gojo whipped out his phone and, with his sauce-covered fingers, started typing like a madman.
Sukuna cringed, looking away and biting into his burger. This did not taste as good as your cooking. Why oh why did you let Satoru take him away? he thought. Sukuna would much rather be with you right now, even if it meant having to sit through one of your godawful rom-coms. Any of those would be better than Gojo fucking Satoru.
“I cannot believe he is missing this because he’s sick. Sick! That’s actually sick of him. Haha, get it?” Gojo leaned back in his chair, and Sukuna wished he would slip and fall backwards.
“There’s nothing shocking about me having a date, Satoru. I’m not some kind of loser.”
“Yeah, well. Yorozu’s not attached to your arm right now, so I thought—”
“I told you, I don’t like her like that. I don’t like her at all, matter of fact.”
“She’s, like, obsessed with you, dude.”
“I know,” Sukuna ran a hand down his face. “Just wish she would leave me alone, I’ve been trying my best to avoid her. And I haven’t seen her as often, so I think it’s working.” If Yorozu didn’t take the hint sooner or later, Sukuna would make your guys’ relationship known to the whole campus if he had to. Hell, Gojo didn’t even know yet. No one did, actually.
“Damn, so cold. You just gonna ignore her and break her heart?” Gojo laughed, but that quickly came back to kick him in the butt when he started choking on a fry.
“If you’re not joking, that fry will be the last thing you eat. I swear on your life, I do not want anything to do with that bitch.”
Gojo continued coughing and choking and shaking, but when all subsided and the white-haired man regained most of his posture, he posed the question, “So, you’re not gonna, like, ask me?”
“Ask you what? Ask you to prom? The fuck?”
“No, no, no. I mean, unless you wanted to,” Gojo tucked an overgrown strand of hair behind his ear, a stupid expression on his stupid face. “But, I’m talking about what I asked you. So, you gonna ask me if I have a prom date?”
“I don’t give a fuck if your lame ass has a date or not,” Sukuna spat out.
“Have you any idea how hurt I am now, because of you? Ehuhwaaa,” Gojo let out the fakest ugliest cry Sukuna had ever heard. “You think my ass is lame? Do you know how many would pay to see even a glimpse of my tush?”
“No. And I hope it stays that way.”
“I—how dare you.”
That night, Sukuna had to run away from Gojo in the parking lot of an In-n-Out. Otherwise, Gojo would’ve probably never left him alone. And, you might be thinking, Gojo is a fast runner. How did Sukuna get away? Well, it may or may not have been because Gojo had scarfed down three double-doubles prior. And he could barely stand upright without having to lean against Sukuna.
But, fear not, Sukuna did make it home, into your arms. And even though he did have to sit through your stupid rom-coms, he was so fucking glad to finally be away from that white-haired idiot.
Unfortunately for Sukuna, that peace and tranquility was short-lived. The next morning, he was woken up by your overly obnoxious doorbell. Seriously, when were you going to replace it?
Sukuna groaned, whispering into your hair, “Didn’t know you were expecting visitors, babe.”
“Hm?” Your voice was muffled; your face pressed impossibly close into Sukuna’s bare chest.
“Visitor, sweetheart. Someone’s at your door.”
“Huh?” You stuck your head up from your human pillow, and though missing the warmth, you were quite confused. Visitor? Since when?
It’s safe to say you were even more surprised to see Gojo Satoru outside when you opened your door. But you weren’t the only confused one, not for long, at least. Gojo raised his brow when he saw Sukuna emerge from behind you in all his glory: shirt nowhere to be found, hair unruly, and sweatpants hanging low on his hips.
“Captain? What are you—?” Gojo cleared his throat, “Whatever. Anyway, will you, Y/N, do me the honor of being the jelly to my peanut butter and going to prom with me?” Gojo flashed a smile so bright Sukuna almost fell backwards.
“Uhh, I’m sorry—”
“She doesn’t even like jelly, dumbass. And what’s with this horrendous sign? That’s seriously the best you’ve got?” Sukuna gestured with his chin at the poorly drawn and colored peanut butter jar and jelly. Not to mention, Gojo was also dressed as a sandwich, with two slices of bread on either side of his body.
“What the hell? How would you know if she liked jelly or not?”
“Because I’m her prom date.”
“And—and, what are you doing at her house?”
“I’m her boyfriend.” Sukuna glared at the white male, and slung an arm around your shoulder, out of spite.
Gojo paused, finally putting the puzzle pieces together. “Ohhh. So that’s why you didn’t want to come eat with us yesterday. And that’s why you were so desperate to go home. And that’s why I haven’t seen you with another girl in months.”
“Uh huh.”
“Anywho,” Gojo turned back to you, shoving his sign all up in your face. “Will you go to prom with me?”
“Dude.”
Taglist: @beyond-your-stars @sad-darksoul @mochimoee @r0ckst4rjk @lillycore @deepchromatose @yinyinyinyinyinyin @fivehoneyharg @desihopelessromantic @taiyakii @hannas16 @acroso @msvalsius @call-memissbrightside @kelerina-ballerina @emikokomura
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Third Time's The Charm
~Third Time's The Charm by Megan Moroney~
Author's note: requested! I am in love with this song! thank you anon!! Summary: After getting her heart broken two times before a stranger in a bar steals her heart Word Count: 4,662 Warnings: maybe swears? Luke Hughes x fm!reader
She was done with relationships. She swore them off after her last ex. He wasn’t the first guy to break her heart. The first one felt the worst, but it was probably because she was so young, yet she’s still young.
The first guy cheated on her several times, he was maybe loyal to her for the first two weeks in the relationship and the remaining year, he probably slept with majority of the girls in their grade. Which no one decided to tell her was happening and it made everything worse.
She didn’t date until college, the embarrassment alone was too much to bare. She was over five hundred miles away from her hometown, to New York University. She’s always loved the idea of New York, the city life, it was her dream. It wasn’t easy being so far from her family in Michigan, but it was her dream and she had to follow it.
That’s where she met her most recent ex. He was quite awful. All of her friends were convinced he wasn’t cute. Which didn’t help that he wasn’t a good boyfriend for a single second.
After he forgot her birthday or lacked any ability to care that it was her birthday, she broke up with him. Then she spent most of her time just going to classes and returning to her room to be sad.
It took well over a year for her friends to convince her to leave her dorm room and explore the city and be young.
The only way she would go was if she promised to keep every guy she met at a distance or a one time thing. It worked for a year and it was safe to say she had a blast.
She was never planning on dating again at least for the rest of college.
She went into tonight with the same plan, a hook up. That’s all she wanted.
There she was, standing in the middle of the bar playing darts with her friends. It was safe to say, that she was winning by a long shot. It was either because she was closest to sober or because she was actually good. It was hard to tell.
The music was loud, the beat was vibrating her chest. The bar was crowded, full of guys of all ages. It was unusually full but she didn’t mind. It was more options.
She walked towards her table, reaching excitingly towards her drink. She brought it towards her lips. Her gaze lifted as she met his eye. He was standing awkwardly near the bartop. His lips curled upward slightly before he shifted his gaze towards the shorter guy beside him. Her heart began to quicken, smacking hard against her chest. She forced herself to turn around, look towards her friends drunkenly stumble around each other. Probably not the smartest idea to be throwing darts when they couldn’t even stand up straight, but they were trying their best.
The butterflies in her stomach was a first. It was the first in a long time but he was just some random guy. Random guy who was tall and had curly brown hair that was peaking beneath the baseball hat that was on backwards on his head. She found herself looking towards him, craving his gaze on hers.
She watched him pull the drink towards his lips, his gaze slowly making it’s way towards her. She took in a sharp breath as she forced her gaze back towards the dart board, she watched her friend Andrea throw the dart and get twenty points.
“Y/N, come on it’s your turn,” Andrea’s boyfriend Harrison said loudly. She nodded as she walked towards the dart board to grab the two darts. “Lets’s see it girl,” he let out teasingly. She rolled her eyes playfully as she lined up getting ready to take her shot. She held the dart up as she shifted her gaze over towards the boy she saw earlier. He was no longer standing where she saw him at first.
Holding her breath she tosses the dart at first only getting six points, the second one hit perfectly on a bullseye. She smirks to herself as she walks towards the board to retrieve the darts.
“Nice shot,” she heard from behind her. She spun around to see the guy with the backwards hat behind her. Her eyes widened as she met his gaze. His lips were curled upward slightly as he scanned her features.
“Thank you,” she muttered as she held her hand out with the darts towards Harrison. He gladly took them as he stepped away from the pair towards Andrea, a smirk to his lips. “Wanna join us? You and-” she paused as she saw four guys staring towards their direction, “Your friends?”
The guy switched his gaze towards the collection of friends, he shook his head towards them. “They’re not gonna join us,” he let out as he shifted his gaze towards her, he slowly began to smile wider. “I’m Luke by the way,” he mumbled as he scanned her features, focusing on the shine of her lips.
“I’m Y/N,” she offered as she tilted her head to the side, a teasing smirk on her lips. “Wanna join us?” she asked as she pointed behind her. He pressed his lips together as he shrugged his shoulders.
“Why not,” he muttered as he walked towards the table, seeing Harrison, Andrea, and Erik.
“Girl, you did not invite the tall drink of water to our table,” Erik said as he was eying Luke up and down, a grin to his lips. Erik and Y/N were known for having the same type in guys. Luke started laughing as he shook his head as he met Y/N’s gaze.
“Okay new game, no teams, whoever wins gets free drinks for the rest of the night, okay?” Harrison interrupted as he pointed his finger towards each person in the small gorup, even Luke.
The game started quickly, it was obvious that Harrison and Luke were quite good at the game while Y/N wasn’t too far behind.
Y/N hit the small red under the twenty to get sixty points to push her ahead of the group. She threw her hands into the air, “Get owned, bitches!” she let out excitedly as she happily took quick steps towards the dart boad.
~~~
The rest of her night was hazy. She was taking advantage of the free drinks and the tall curly haired guy giving her attention. It was safe to say she was content with where she was at.
She was expecting to wake up to him in bed beside her but to her surprise it was Andrea instead. She slowly rubbed her eyes, convinced makeup was smudging all over her eyelids. Slowly sitting up, she notices the boys asleep on the air mattress beside her bed. Without hesitation she slowly stepped over the boys and began stumbling towards the kitchen. Remnants of the pre-game was still evident all over her apartment as she walked towards the kitchen, specifically towards her new coffee maker.
She walked past a small piece of paper on the counter that wasn’t there before they left. Furrowing her eyebrows she took a hold of the paper and opened it.
Hey,
Made sure you and your friends made it back safely. You were the only one that was able to give me an address, so I had the Uber guy take us all here. Made sure everyone was safe before I left. Here’s my number, can’t remember if I gave it to you before.
Luke from the bar ;)
She rolled her eyes playfully as she delicately placed the note back on the counter as she beelined towards the coffee maker. Her phone was plugged in right beside it, not it’s normal spot but she’ll take the win.
After she started the pot, she wandered towards the note that Luke left. This time with her phone in hand and intention to give him a call. She saved the contact name with Luke from the bar and quickly gave him a call.
It only took three rings for him to answer, “Hello?” he let out.
“Hey Luke from the bar, thank you for making sure my friends and I didn’t end up in a dumpster,” she teased. He barked out a laugh on his end of the phone.
“Sounds like that’s something that happened before,”
“Erik and Harrison have had their moments, I, on the other hand, always make sure I end the night back in a bed,” she expressed as she watched the hot coffee form in the giant pot. She was convinced all of her friends were going to need it.
“I see, well-uh Y/N from the bar how about you let me take you to dinner tonight,” Luke said, suddenly feeling nervous.
She clenched her jaw as she felt her smile slowly slip from her lips. “I tend to keep the guys I meet at bars a one time thing, I don’t do the whole dating thing,” she explained.
Without missing a beat, “Okay, how about you buy me dinner for making sure your friends didn’t end up in a dumpster,”
“Luke,” she let out softly a chuckle climbing into her throat.
“It’s not a date because you’re gonna pick up the check because if it was a date I would pick up the check because I’m a gentleman,”
“Oh of course, right,” she shot back. She took in a deep breath, “Alright, fine.”
“Perfect, I’ll pick you up at seven?” he offered.
“Yeah, that’ll be perfect,” she mumbled as her stomach started doing flips.
“See you then, Y/N from the bar,” he expressed.
“Bye Luke from the bar,” she mumbled as she pulled the phone away from her ear.
It was a date. She knew that and everything in her wanted nothing more than to run away, ghost him and let him be a guy that she played darts with one time. But the way his voice said her name or the way he looked at her.
She couldn’t remember much after the darts game started but she could remember the way his eyes scanned her frame. It wasn’t just attraction, it was admiration. She can’t remember the last time a boyfriend looked at her that way, let alone a stranger.
How can someone look at someone else like that after only knowing them a few minutes?
“This isn’t my apartment,” she over heard Andrea say as she stumbled into the living room. Y/N chuckled while shaking her head. “What happened last night?”
“Tequila and darts,” she said simply as she began to pour two cups of coffee. Black coffee was always an instant cure for hangovers for them.
“Why is it always those two that get us fucked up,” she muttered as she gladly took a hold of the mug. She brought the hot drink towards her lips, not caring about the burning sensation on her lips. “What’s this?” she asked as she reached towards the scratch piece of paper on the counter.
“N-nothing!” Y/N tried to hide it but it was already in Andrea’s hands, her eyes scanning the words.
“Wait did you have sex with a guy while I was asle-”
“No! Oh my god, Andrea, no. Seriously, have some faith in me will you,” Y/N let out while laughing. “He just made sure we made it back safe,”
“I don’t remember you meeting anyone last night,” she let out, her eyes squinting slightly as she stared past the paper, trying to visualize the night in her mind.
“Tequila and darts will do that to you,” Y/N offered as she finally took a sip of the coffee she’s been craving since she opened her eyes. “I may be going out with him tonight,” she muttered softly before she took a sip.
Andrea’s eyes went wide as her whole body straightened, delicately placing the mug onto the counter. “You?” she questioned. Y/N nodded encouragingly. “The curse is broken!” she said as she raised her hands in the air theatrically.
“Oh shut up!” Y/N let out laughing, shoving Andrea’s arm. “It’s not really a date,” she muttered. Andrea tilted her head to the side, squinting her eyes slightly. “I’m technically buying him dinner for making sure my friends survived the night.”
“Totally not a date,” Andrea said sarcastically before she brought the mug back towards her lips.
~~~
She changed her dress three times. The first one was too tight, too sexy for something like this. The second one was too flowy, almost like she was going on a picnic. The third one was almost a combination of both, perfect for a not-date.
She also redid her wing eyeliner three times, still didn’t feel right. She took a deep breath as she heard the door bell ring three times. Her eyes widened, “Cannot believe I’m doing this,” she muttered.
She picked up her perfume bottle and quickly sprayed it all over her body. “Fuck this,” she stared towards her reflection for a moment before she walked out of the bathroom. She took a hold of her small clutch purse before she wandered towards the front door. Pulling it open to see Luke standing outside the door with a soft smile on his lips.
He was wearing a black polo with dark wash jeans, his hair was perfectly styled. “You look totally gorgeous for our not-date,” he muttered as he quickly scanned her frame. She walked away from the door towards the black heels sitting near the door. Luke took that opportunity to enter the apartment.
“You are look very cute for our not-date,” she found herself saying as she slowly slipped on the heels. Luke dropped his gaze towards the floor, his lips curled upward in a grin.
“I was a thinking that dinner place a few streets over would be a good spot,” he explained as he nervously clapped his hads together.
“Wait, why do you get to pick the dinner spot if I’m paying,” she offered as she brushed a few pieces of hair away from her face. He smirked before he ran his tongue across his bottom lip.
“You were never going to be paying, but you can pick the place if you insist,” he let out while tilting his head back.
Rolling her eyes playfully she began to walk towards the door, making eye contact with him for a moment, she shyly dropped her gaze towards the floor. Luke tilted his head back as he held his breath for moment. God, she was stunning.
“You know,” Luke started as he followed her outside, “You can still pay, depending on how our evening goes,”
“Oh really?” she let out teasingly as she locked the apartment behind her. She leaned her body against the door for a moment as she scanned his features.
“Oh yeah, I mean if our non-date ends poorly then absolutely you’ll be paying,” he muttered as he slowly started walking backwards towards the elevator further down the hall. She huffed teasingly as she followed towards him.
“Right well, let’s see how this goes then,” she expressed.
They continued their banter, slowly learning things about one another as they walked towards the restaurant that was only a couple blocks away from her apartment. She explained how she was in college to be an elementary school teacher, a career she’s wanted for majority of her life. He listened excitedly as he explained how he was from all over the world.
As they turned towards the restaurant, three girls excitedly walked towards them, one of them was holding a phone tightly to her chest. Luke forced a smile to his lips. “Oh my god, you’re Luke Hughes can we get a photo please?” she asked excitedly.
He nodded, “How are you guys tonight?” he asked as he glanced towards Y/N, who was watching the interaction suspiciously. She crossed her arms over her chest as she shifted her gaze towards the concrete below her.
Y/N awkwardly stepped towards the wall beside them, pulling herself from the situation. She clenched her jaw as she heard the girls rant excitedly towards Luke. He gladly took the photo with the girls and engaged in the conversation. He kept shifting his gaze towards Y/N, practically apologizing with each glance.
He was always open to taking photos with fans, but this was definitely an awkward moment. Especially since he didn’t tell her his career yet.
The girls scattered away from them. Luke shoved his hands into his pocket as he met Y/N’s gaze, he pressed his lips together as he tried not to laugh. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows as her lips curled up into a smile.
“You secretly a famous country singer or something?” she let out as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“Oh hell no,” he tilted his head to the side as he began stepping back towards the direction of the restaurant. She followed him, suddenly her body felt cold as her heart began to race. “I-uh-I play for the Devils,” he let out shyly.
She squinted her eyes as she met his gaze. “Really?” she muttered.
“Yep,” he said simply, almost embarrassed.
“I feel like that’s something you should tell a girl before you take her out,” she said shifting her gaze towards the ground.
“The very limited amount of girls that I’ve told about my career they tend to only care about being a WAG or whatever it’s called, I didn’t want to ruin this-I guess,” he explained shyly.
She nodded as she crossed her arms over her chest.
“So does that stuff happen to you often?” she asked, her heart began to beat faster and faster. Its a lot of attention, a lot of unwanted attention. She hated attention.
“It happens a couple times a week,” he said.
“So you’ll be like traveling a lot,”
“Yeah, I actually have to leave for a game tomorrow,” he said as he met her gaze. She nodded.
“This is a lot to process for a girl who you’re not technically even taking on a date,”
“I usually get a oh my god that’s so hot,” he let out jokingly.
“Really?” she let out laughing.
“I’m mostly joking but it tends to be a plus, but doesn’t seem like it for you,” he let out as they walked up towards the restaurant door. Luke took the door and opened it for her. She smiled towards him as she stepped inside.
“I mean it is definitely oh my god that’s so hot but also it’s a lot,” she mumbled. He nodded as he took in a sharp breath.
The hostess greeted them excitedly as she gladly took them to a table near the back of the restaurant.
“So you think it’s hot?” he let out teasingly.
“Oh shut it,” she let out while giggling.
~three weeks later~
She would be lying if she said things with Luke weren’t going good. She wanted nothing more than to not like him. She wished the feelings she was getting for him weren’t real. He went on a roadie for the first week but he was constantly texting and flirting on the phone.
She even watched the games he played, Y/N can’t remember a time where she actually wanted to watch a hockey game. She kept getting herself confused since his brother was also playing. Andrea loved teasing her about it since it’s been a year since the last time she’s considered dating someone.
Yet, she wasn’t even sure if what they were doing was dating. Especially since they haven’t kissed yet or even attempted it. It was starting to get to her, what was he so afraid of?
Luke rang the doorbell multiple times and she excitedly jumped up from the couch. She jogged towards the door. She excitedly pulled the door open to see him holding a large iced coffee from Dunkin. Luke had a wide grin on his lips. Her eyes widened as she happily reached for it.
“Thank you!” she said as she happily brought the coffee towards her lips, she danced as she walked towards the kitchen. He chuckled as she shut the door behind him. “This is exactly what I needed,” she let out as she leaned against the counter as she met his gaze.
“Good,” he let out as he walked up towards her, keeping a small distance between them. “You said classes were kicking your ass so I thought you would want that,” he let out as he scanned her features.
“It’s very sweet,” she said as she delicately rested the coffee down on the counter. “You didn’t get anything?” she questioned, staring towards his empty hands. He shrugged, stepping towards her.
“Not a coffee guy,” he mumbled.
“That’s tragic,” she teased as she continued to meet his gaze. He hummed as he continued to look into her eyes. “Luke,” she let out softly as she scanned his features. He hummed again as his gaze lowered towards her lips for a second. “Do you want to watch a movie?” she asked. His eyes widened softly as he nodded, stepping back slightly.
“What are you thinking?” he asked as he stumbled back towards her bedroom. She smiled towards him as she took a hold of the iced coffee.
She began to list all of her favorite movies and he just listened to her ramble on. He finally agreed on the last one and she happily took the remote and started to turn on the movie. Luke was excitedly laying beside her as he rested his hands behind his head. She sat up excitedly as she turned on the TV.
“I cannot believe you haven’t seen Scary Movie it’s so good,” she offered as she pressed play on the movie. He smirked as she laid back beside him, neither of them touching one another.
“I don’t like horror movies, I thought it was scary,” he muttered as he shyly stared towards his hands.
Y/N rotated onto her side, her eyes widened as a smirk formed to her lips. “You’re telling me you thought a movie called Scary Movie was actually scary? Luke come on,” she teased. He tilted his head to meet her gaze, his cheeks flushing slightly. His gaze lowered towards her lips, instead of quickly flicking upwards towards her eyes, his gaze remained on her glossed lips.
“The movie is literally called Scary Movie!” he let out with a chuckle.
“You’re ridiculous,” she muttered as she watched his gaze slowly climb up to meet her gaze, he cleared his throat as he shifted his gaze toward the screen. She clenched her jaw as she slowly sat up and shifted her gaze towards the screen. Luke followed her movements. “So you’re going on the road again tomorrow,” she asked as she brushed a few pieces of hair away from her face. He hummed as he continued to watch her.
“What’s on your mind?” he asked softly. She chuckled softly as she shifted her gaze towards him, looking into his eyes deeply.
“Why haven’t you kissed me yet?” she let out without fully thinking it through. Luke sat up slightly, his face growing pinker and pinker by the second. “I mean I know it’s been only a couple of weeks but I just thought we would’ve done something by now,” she let out shyly. He smirked as he squinted his eyes slightly.
“I was nervous since you’ve got history of-yeah sorry. I just didn’t want to pressure you or push or yeah,”
She smiled a toothy grin, “Don’t ever apologize for that,” she mumbled as she met his gaze.
“Well then come ‘ere,” he muttered as he excitedly reached for her thigh, pulling her onto his lap. She giggled as she rested her hands onto the base of his neck. His hands were resting on her thighs as she ran her thumbs across his jawline.
He leaned towards her, kissing her urgently. It felt like a weight being lifted off of their shoulders. It felt like a magnet was pulling them towards one another. His hands were slowly gliding up and down her thighs as her fingers ran through his hair. Her fingers slowly tugged at the curls.
She leaned her forehead against his as she caught her breath, “Oh,” she muttered as she slowly opened her eyes. He tilted his head back to meet her gaze, his lips already starting to swell.
“Oh?” he let out, slightly nervous.
“Sorry-just been a long time since kissing felt like this,” she mumbled as his hands rested on her waist, squeezing her body slightly.
“Like what?” he asked as he scanned her features.
It was difficult to form any words, all she kept thinking about was kissing him again. She leaned towards him, pressing her lips against his urgently. Luke tightened his grip along her waist. Her hands continued to run through his hair.
“Like it matters,” she mumbled against his lips. He smiled before he leaned towards her kissing her again.
~three months later~
It was New Years Eve and she used to hate it. Every year without someone to kiss, every year false hope of a better year ahead. Yet, she had real hope for a better year ahead. Four months ago, Luke took her by surprise and every day since she’s finding herself falling for him harder and harder.
It was too early to say she was in love but there was something different this time. He was gentle and patient and sweet. He was everything she’s ever wanted.
Luke was already at her apartment, it was ten o’clock and they were waiting for their friends to arrive for the night. “Luke,” she let out from the kitchen.
“Yeah?” he let out as he sat up from the couch, he ran his fingers through his hair as he wandered towards her. She stared towards the counter that was filled with alcohol.
“Is this enough, you think?” she asked as she stared towards the overwhelming amount of seltzers on the countertop. Luke chuckled as he stumbled towards her.
“Darling, we could open up a liquor store with all of this. We’ll be fine,” he let out as he walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist. She leaned back against his chest. Her eyes shut as she felt her lips curl up in a soft grin. “We’re not having a party right, it’s just the usual people right?” he asked before he pressed his lips to the side of her head.
“Yeah, but I think Erik said he was inviting a few of his other friends. So I don’t want to run out,” she explained as she opened her eyes, tilting her head back she met his gaze.
“I’ll think we’ll be okay,” he whispered into her ear before he pressed his lips against the side of her head again. “Are you alright?”
She spun around, leaning against the countertop as she met his gaze. He rested his hands onto her lowerback as she rested her hands onto his chest. “I’ve never been better,” she let out.
He squinted his eyes suspiciously as he pursed his lips forward, “That sounded very sarcastic,” he let out teasingly.
“Not sarcastic,” she muttered. He hummed as he leaned towards her, kissing her urgently.
“Yeah, right,” he mumbled against her lips as the doorbell rang. “Come on, my love,” he let out as he slowly slipped away from her, taking a hold of her hand.
“I can’t believe I agreed to host this party,” she mumbled as she delicately tugged him back.
“It’ll be fun,” he mumbled as he rested his hands onto her waist, kissing her cheek reassuringly. “And if it’s not, we’ll sneak away to your room,” he whispered before he guided them towards the door.
#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes imagines#luke hughes#luke hughes fanfic#nhl imagines#nhl#nhl x reader#nhl fic#hockey#quinn hughes x reader#quinn hughes x y/n#quinn hughes imagines#quinn hughes imagine#quinn hughes#jack hughes x y/n#jack hughes x reader#jack hughes imagines#new jersey devils x reader#new jersey devils fic#New Jersey devils
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squeaky clean; yandere. non/dub-con. heavily implied nsfw. mdni.
“i’m sorry– m’sorry, please! swear i won’t–!” your thighs ache, pressed painfully against the edge of the bathtub, held in place by cold, firm hands that refuse to relent, despite your very best efforts. “i won’t do it again. promise.”
“oh, yeah?” you feel the tug of his lips; a cruel smile against your bare shoulders, which shake with sobs that wrack your whole body. he can feel them, you know he can. he’s got your back pressed right up against his chest; he just doesn’t care. “how sorry are you, baby?”
“very very sorry, i swear!” with wide teary eyes, you turn to face the apathetic man behind you. he only looks down at you levelly, appraisal in those eyes, crinkled with amusement despite the facsimile of a loving, if not remorseful, boyfriend’s expression on his features–when he is anything but.
not loving. not remorseful. and certainly, if the way he keeps you all locked up and confined to the halls of his home serves as any indication of how little your opinion of his unwanted, unrequited affection matters; not your boyfriend.
and yet, you bend over backwards in an attempt to keep him satisfied. how unfortunate it is that all your efforts were undone by a single moment of carelessness; the cathartic release of a convoluted, complicated rage; hard work and pandering and pliant disposition rendered void by a few stupid tumbling past your lips before you could stop to just fucking think.
but you don’t voice any of that to him. it’s not what he would want or care to hear. “i didn’t mean to–to be so rude. please, please, please don’t make me do this…”
a noncommittal hum; “you can do better than that, surely.”
“i’ll never do it again–promise, promise i won’t.” your pleas inevitably fall on deaf ears, breathy voice echoing within the vast, bleak bathroom you’ve ended up in; awaiting the punishment your captor intends to dole out, begging in a lovely little futile attempt for a compassion that the both of you know he does not possess. “i didn’t mean to, i swear! m’so sorry, i’ll be good from now on. i-i love you. i love you.”
lithe fingers dig into your jaw almost painfully, as he kisses his teeth in mock sympathy. “oh, baby. you poor thing, i know you're sorry.”
hope, unfurling in your chest as you allow yourself to let out a relieved sob, mercy—
“but it’s just no good now, is it?”
you freeze, rooted to the spot. your heart physically drops; a weight that sits low in your belly, alongside the fear of how he’s going to make you pay for your mistake.
“should’ve thoughta that before ‘ya called me ‘psychopathic bastard' you wish would 'do the world a favour by dying.'” he recites your words gleefully, a light and playful tone that contrats his far more forceful hand, as he angles your face forward; the hand that was at the back of your thighs reaching out, muscles taut, you realise–terrified all over again, with restraint. “but no matter. we can fix that.”
you shake your head, curl away from the soap; and right back up against his hard chest. “please don’t”
“hush now, sweet thing. i’ll show you what happens next time you run your little mouth like that later. first,” he reaches for the silky pink bar of soap that rests on the bath caddy, and you hear the sound of mellifluous laughter, low in the back of his throat. “let’s wash that dirty mouth of yours out with some soap.”
“i’m sorry.” it’s a pathetic, useless apology that carries no weight. you know it as much as he does, and yet, you're still a mess of nerves before him, "i love you."
“you weren’t so sorry and sweet when you told me to go ‘suck a dick.’” he grins cruelly. “now how ‘bout you quit whining and get some of these suds in your mouth, so you can think twice next time ‘bout tellin’ me what to put in mine.”
and you've always been good; so why should this time be any different?
it's the oddest thing, though; even after the mortifying ordeal, the overwhelming aftertaste of the soap doesn't make you feel cleaner, so much as it makes you feel dirtier than before.
even more so than when he will place something far less sweeter against your lips hours later, repeating your own words back to you whilst you look up at him helplessly through long lashes, weighed down by your tears.
"'ts not there to stare at, baby. you wanna prove just how sorry you are?" he runs a hand through your hair when you only nod in response; words failing you, mouth squeaky-clean. "good. you've already shown me what a dirty mouth you have today..."
"now," he mockingly taps the side of your face with a single finger, looking down at you a pleased little smile that has lingered on his lips since his fingers were in your mouth, hours ago, forcing the bar of soap onto your tongue. "let's see you put it to work."
#idk which demon possessed me to write this tbh but i need this man carnally i think#yandere x reader#yandere headcanons#yandere x you#yandere boy#yandere male#yandere x darling#male yandere x reader#male yandere#male yandere oc#yandere#yandere male x reader#yandere male x you#yandere fic#yandere drabble#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere oc
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Deeply
inspired by anon 🤍
Pairing: best friend wanda x f!reader
Tags: massaging, swearing, fingering, oral sex
men and minors DNI
summary: You've had a long and exhausting day at work, and your best friend Wanda decides to help put a load on your back, i mean take a load off your back..
You slam the front door shut, dropping your things and sighing at the relief of being back home.
Sure, home was a dingy apartment that you could barely afford, but it's where you rest your head at night, and where you watch a funny movie to cheer you up when you get lonely again, and where all the dirty thoughts you carry through the day finally get to release you of all your stress and- "You look tired" the voice of your best friend startled you, making you almost fall backwards in shock.
"Damnit Wanda I told you to stop doing that," she laughed at your terrified expression. "How did you even get in here? I thought I got rid of the spare key" you walked over to your couch where she was sitting, watching an old movie.
"I broke in" she smiled innocently at you, "Of course you did" you sat down next to her, groaning in pain. "I'm going to sit here for a while and then I'm gonna head to bed, I'm sore all over, my boss made today as hard as she could make it." she looked back at you, faking a concerned pout. "No, stay, I can help" she stood up and you shot her a confused look "What do you mean?" before you could finish your sentence she straddled you, rubbing her hands into your shoulders deeply, as you sat there attempting to hold back a moan.
"That actually feels pretty nice" you laughed in shock, closing your eyes and falling into the pleasure, before she helped you sit up. "Take off your clothes" your eyes opened so fast it was almost audible, "W-what?" she smirked at your nervous look, "It'll feel better if i can spread lotion on that pretty body"
Your mind whispered questions to your rapidly beating heart, did she just call you pretty? You were floating on a thoughtless cloud, your eyes barely open.
You obeyed, stripping yourself of your clothing. She didn't fail to notice the wet patch on your panties that you were completely oblivious to. "good girl" She whispered it so softly that you believed it to be your imagination. She laid you down on the couch, straddling your hips and watching your adorably flustered facial expression as she massaged your thighs.
"Gosh you must be so tired" She moved her hands up to massage your torso with a tight grip that left you groaning. "I am, so tired" You hoped she would take more sympathy on you and move just a little bit lower, but instead she continued to massage you everywhere, gliding her hands along your stomach to grope your breasts and play with the soft flesh.
You moaned with a loud echo, "Wanda, p-please, I need you" she smirked arrogantly, "what could you possibly mean?" your head backed into the cushions in frustration. your hand took hers, guiding it down to your warm, dripping core, looking at her with lustfully pleading eyes.
she laughed, kissing down your stomach, "You were quick to crack, if I had known I would have done this much sooner." you moaned thickly, feeling yourself slip deeper into her hold. Her mouth met your nub as she sucked it gently, lightly nibbling at the sensitive flesh and feeling you tremble under her strong grip. You held her head letting out noises you've never even heard, wondering how you could accomplish such a dirty sound. "The walls are very thin y/n." She gave you a stern look and you nodded as a reply.
She kept up a steady place lapping at your folds for almost 10 minutes before she finally pulled away, out of breath. She placed a finger at your entrance, poking in curiously and letting out a small "hmm". You sighed breathlessly, gripping the cushions so tightly you heard them tear. "I haven't even been inside you yet and you're already so horny for me, fuck I can't wait to break you" she whispered the last part into your clit, smoothly sliding a finger inside you as your back arched off the sofa.
"Fuck!" Your whole body ached for more of her, whining and panting as she pushed another finger inside. Your head spun in circles, feeling a kind of pleasure you're entirely unfamiliar with. "You're so fucking incredible love, you look so good all spread out for me, I'm gonna fuck you so nicely, all the time, any time i want" Your eyes were fully focused on the fingers that were making love to you so deliciously. "I'm-I-" You tried desperately to warn her that you were about to cum all over her face, but you couldn't get the words out, and she knew, of course she knew. The smile on her face told you she knew exactly what you were about to do, and she wasn't stopping until you did it.
When she curled her fingers inside of you, aiming directly at your most sensitive and enjoyable spot, you finally let out a scream of release. Cumming hard, completely drenching her lips and fingers as she moaned into your cunt.
She licked up every little drop that fell out of you, and sucked the remaining cum leaking from the edge, before coming up to kiss you deeply, holding your body close.
"Your landlord's not gonna be too happy" she joked. Before you could reply there was a loud knock at the door, and you both laughed.
this took forever i'm sorry ❤️🩹❤️🩹
Taglist: @1800-lemonadeg1rl @alexawynters @wandaslittleweirdo
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Aim for the Sky Part 15 | Rooster x Reader
Summary: It's time for Rose to make her grand entrance. No turning back now. All Bradley knows for sure is that he can handle anything when he's with his girls.
Warnings: Fluff, angst, adult language, lactation kink, swearing, pregnancy and labor, DILF Roo
Length: 3600 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.
When your boss sent you home from work a little early to rest, you didn't complain. When Bradley texted you to let you know he'd be a little late but that he'd take care of dinner when he got there, you didn't mind at all. It gave you time to take a little power nap with Tramp before you ultimately got up and got undressed.
Your belly felt tight and tender, and even the fabric of your shirt skimming along your skin was almost too much. You tossed it across the room toward the hamper, and it landed on the hospital bags that you and Bradley had packed and ready to go when Rose decided she was ready to make her grand appearance. You were ready now. You had to roll your shoulders and stretch your back, and even unhooking your hideous maternity bra was a chore.
"Oh," you sighed when you caught sight of yourself in the mirror. You were surprised by your breasts. They looked that good. Maybe your husband was on to something.
After striking a pose and turning to the side, you stripped down to your underwear. He should be home shortly now, and you could already see your breast milk starting to bead on your left nipple. Just thinking about the way Bradley reacted to you left you scrambling to put on some of your sexiest underwear. Okay, so the sexiest pair you could find with some stretch to them.
Tramp went running for the front door before you heard the Bronco in the driveway, and you started to follow him before you had a sudden, painful cramp in your abdomen. "Ow," you gasped, reaching for the side of your belly where you could feel your daughter stretching. You paused and held onto the doorframe as the pain started to subside, but as soon as you stepped out into the hallway, you felt it again. "Rose," you scolded softly. You were just a handful of days away from your due date, and Dr. Morris wanted her to stay put as long as possible. The uncomfortable sensation drifted away again as you walked toward the living room, and you caught sight of your husband running up the walkway through the front window.
When he opened the door and found you standing there topless, your heart skipped around in your chest. He licked his lips, and his gaze sank down your body, taking in every inch, but then he honed in on your breasts. Oh, he knew he was in for a treat as you smiled, and you could feel your milk cooling on your skin.
"Hi, Daddy," you greeted, and he took two steps closer to you as you felt another cramp tear through your midsection. "Ow!" you gasped, looking down at your feet and taking a step backwards as the pain was followed by dampness on your legs. "I think... oh my god. I think I just wet myself!"
You were kind of mortified, and all you wanted to do was run into Bradley's arms, but you froze as he dropped everything he was holding. "Sweetheart. I think your water broke."
"What?" you gasped, already somehow realizing what was going on as your stomach ached with another contraction. "Oh!"
"I think this is it, Sweetheart."
Bradley looked surprised as he collected you into his arms, and you were trying to remember everything Dr. Morris told you to help you prepare for this moment, but you just started to panic instead. "Oh my god," you groaned, doubling over in pain as you felt a little more liquid trickle down your legs onto the floor. "It hurts. And I'm making a mess," you gasped, holding onto Bradley's forearm for dear life.
"It's okay," he coaxed softly. "Look at me." You tried to meet his eyes through your unshed tears, but he was all blurry. "Let's get you on the couch while I grab everything we need for the hospital, okay?"
You tried to nod as you took deep breath after deep breath while he quickly covered the couch cushions with the big throw blanket. Then you settled in and rolled onto your side in a tight ball as Bradley disappeared from the room.
"Rosie," you moaned, "knock it off." When you squeezed your eyes closed and focused on each breath, the pain subsided a tiny bit. You could hear Bradley in the bedroom, and it sounded like he was throwing things around. There were some muffled obscenities, and then you heard his boots on the floor again.
"It's okay," he promised, and you cracked your eyes open to see him kneeling on the floor in front of you. His eyes were soft and sincere, concern mixing with excitement as he held up his worn out UVA shirt for you. "Let's get you dressed and get out of here," he said, helping you sit up.
"What about Tramp?" you asked as he pulled the shirt over your head.
"Nat will come over and pick him up in about an hour."
You threaded your arms through the sleeves as you said, "I need to text my parents."
"I already did," he confirmed, helping you to your feet as it felt like another painful wave crashed against you. "I'll keep them informed. You don't have to worry about anything other than yourself right now. I swear I've got this."
You nodded and stood, and Bradley carefully replaced your soaked lace underwear with his gray sweatpants after he toweled you off.
"That should at least be good enough to get you to the hospital," he muttered, standing before you in his flight suit and combat boots. He ran his thumb along your cheek and smiled as he whispered, "I love you so much, Baby Girl. We're almost parents."
"Roo," you whined breathlessly as you clutched at your belly. "It hurts."
He took your hand in his and led you toward the door with two overnight bags on his other arm. "Let's go."
--------------------------
Bradley kissed the few tears that trickled down your cheek as he got you situated in the blue Bronco. This would be the last time he buckled you in while you had your big belly, and he was simultaneously a little sad and yet so excited. He was happy he took the time to install the car seats in both Broncos, and now all he could think about was driving his tiny daughter and wife back home. A sense of calm took over his body.
"I love you," he whispered against your lips, and then he leaned down to kiss your bump. "And I love you, too, Nugget."
"Roo," you gasped, and he knew he needed to get going. He practically vibrated with anticipation as he walked around the Bronco and climbed in to start the engine. Your eyes were squeezed closed, but when he reached out and took your hand, you let him hold it while he drove. You were breathing so erratically, he was a little afraid you were going to pass out before he could even get you to the hospital.
"Do you think you're having contractions?" he asked, making a turn with just his left hand.
"Yes," you snapped, sucking in a deep, shaky breath. "I'm pretty fucking certain."
Dr. Morris mentioned something about timing how far apart the contractions were and also how long they lasted. He counted in his head while you muttered obscenities under your breath like you were putting a hex on someone. It was less than a minute before you leaned back against the seat with a sheen of sweat on your face and neck.
"I'm sorry I snapped at you, Bradley," you whispered, breathing a little easier as you rubbed your belly with your right hand. "It feels like she's trying to push her way out through my belly button."
"I don't care if you snap at me," he promised, running his thumb along your knuckles. You could do absolutely anything you wanted to him, and he would handle it. The last time you were in the hospital was when you fell at work, and he had been terrified that something happened to the baby or that you were severely injured. "As long as my girls are okay, I'm okay."
"That's sweet," you whispered, eyes closed as you took some steady breaths this time. But the peaceful environment didn't last long before you were groaning and swearing again. "Holy shit." As far as he could tell, as he pulled into the hospital parking lot, your contractions were about five or six minutes apart.
"Were you having contractions like this all day?" he asked when he shifted into park.
"No!" you practically screamed. "Do I look like I could go to work like this?"
Your eyes were wild, sweat was beading on your brow, and you were gripping the dashboard for dear life while you made a hissing noise. He kind of wanted to laugh or make a smart comment, but he thought better of it and simply said, "No, Sweetheart. It was silly of me to ask."
You nodded and breathed sharply through your nose before saying, "It's subsiding for now. Let's go inside where I can leak more amniotic fluid in peace."
At least your sense of humor was slightly intact. Bradley grabbed the bags and took your hand as you walked swiftly toward the entrance for Labor & Delivery. "I'm having a baby," you announced loudly to the nurse at the reception desk who looked at the two of you with mild interest.
"You can go ahead and have a seat," she replied.
"No! I look like I pissed my pants!" you told her, gesturing wildly to your crotch. "And another contraction is going to start soon! Please! Do something!"
Bradley cleared his throat and kissed your sweaty forehead before he asked the receptionist, "Can I give you her name or something to speed up the check-in process? There's about to be some strong language coming from my wife in, oh, I'd say the next two minutes or so."
He watched her close out of the software she was working in and open something new. With you tucked against his side, sucking in air, he told her all of the information she asked for. Just as you were receiving you wristbands, you practically shouted, "Fuck!" as you grabbed at your belly again.
Bradley wanted to expedite this process for you, but the best he could do was offer his hand which you squeezed until you were in tears as the nurse put your wristband on. "Let me check which room we can put you in," she muttered as you whispered 'cocksucker son of a bitch'.
When your contraction seemed to have eased up, you paced around in a small circle. It really did look like you wet his gray sweatpants, and his UVA shirt was damp from your delicious tits leaking through the fabric. But you still looked adorable to him as you let your hand rest on your forehead and said, "I'm sorry I just called you a cocksucker son of a bitch. I didn't mean it, Roo."
"I didn't think you did, Sweetheart," he replied. There was something about being in the hospital, holding the overnight bags and watching you freak out that left his heart pounding. "I can't wait to meet the Nugget," he whispered, running his fingers through his hair as you rearranged the chairs in the deserted waiting area for something to do. "I'm gonna be a dad."
He was deep in thought about his own father, vowing that he'd stick around longer than Goose did. Bradley missed out on too much with his own father, but Rosie was going to deserve the whole world. She already did, because she was half you. Like mother, like daughter. You were aggressively groaning the f word and dragging one of the chairs around noisily. You were perfect, and he was going to do everything he could at work to make sure he was around more and deployed less.
"Bradshaw." Bradley turned when his name was called, and there was a new nurse standing there saying, "The room is ready."
------------------------
"I don't want to do this," you sobbed and hiccupped. "Everything hurt a lot more than you thought it would, and you were convinced you were going to throw up or poop in the hospital bed. Maybe both. Maybe both at the same time.
Bradley was bustling around, talking to nurses and asking where Dr. Morris was while you shivered in your own sweat in a damp cotton gown while your boobs leaked milk all over the place, and that's when another contraction started up again. Why did you convince yourself that having a baby was a good idea? Why did you work so hard and for so long to make this happen? The pain was so intense, your brain could focus on nothing else, and you had the dizzy sensation that you were about to roll onto the floor.
"Roo," you gasped, grabbing at anything you could reach while you tried to think about the line of code you'd been working on in your lab about eight hours ago. Numbers danced behind your eyes as your husband rushed to your side with his rosy cheeks and his messy hair. He looked cute with the sleeves of his flight suit tied around his waist and his black undershirt clinging to his chest and biceps. But the little smile on his face made you wince. He was excited for the baby. It wasn't like you weren't, you just didn't see how you were possibly going to make it through this entire ordeal.
"Baby Girl," he crooned, gently wiping the sweat from your forehead. "Dr. Morris will be here soon. You're doing great. Rosie's heart rate is perfection. They are keeping an eye on your blood pressure."
Maybe it hurt so much because of your preeclampsia. You had no idea. And you were too wound up to even attempt to talk to the nurses about it now. All you could do was wait for the pain medicine they supposedly gave you to start working while you tried to focus on not passing out.
"I can't do this," you whispered, shaking your head as you tried to roll onto your side. You were hooked up to too many monitors. Suddenly all you could hear was beeping. Tears filled your eyes as the pain ramped up again, and there was so much pressure in your pelvis you were convinced you were going to pass out.
But Bradley was right there by your side, and he took your hand in his. It was like he knew what was happening before you did. Sweat beaded on your neck and your upper lip, and when you looked at him, he guided you onto your side.
"It's okay," he coaxed, running his fingers along your neck. And then you emptied the contents of your stomach onto the floor at his feet. It was disgusting, and you whimpered as Bradley eased you onto your back once again. He took a towel from one of the nurses and cleaned you up before dropping it to the floor. "You feel a little bit better?"
"No," you groaned, reaching for your stomach as Rose tried to make a violet escape. "She's lost fucking her mind in there."
You squeezed your eyes shut against the pain while Bradley wiped up your vomit and then knelt next to you. "Come on Rosie. We both want to meet you," he crooned, placing one big hand on your belly. "But can't you come out without a fight?" He kissed your wrist as you cried. "Come on, Nugget."
His hand stroking you softly eased your nerves a little. And then Dr. Morris arrived, and you knew it was time. You could do this, because you had no choice. You and Bradley were ready to become parents, and right now you were so close.
"Your blood pressure is creeping up," Dr. Morris said, voice a little stern. "Let's see how long and hard you can push before we get into trouble."
"Trouble?" you and Bradley asked in unison as his fingers wrapped around yours.
She just nodded vaguely in response as she looked at all of the instrumentation screens again. "I want you to push."
Bradley's brown eyes were on your face as you nodded, at what you weren't exactly sure. "Roo," you whispered through your tears.
"I'm right here, Sweetheart. I'm not going anywhere. Hold my hand and push."
------------------------------
"Fuck you!"
Bradley watched his wife's face as the obscenities flowed freely.
"Fuck you, Bradley. This is bullshit," you told him, squeezing his hand so tight, he didn't know if his pinky finger would survive. "The painkillers did nothing. Nothing. Do you understand me?"
"I do," he promised, trying not to wince in pain that he knew had no comparison to what you were feeling.
"Keep pushing," Dr. Morris said for about the thousandth time, and you growled in response.
"I am." Your teeth were clenched, and Bradley didn't know how you were still hanging on. Your blood pressure readouts looked really high to him, but he didn't want you to worry about it, so he said nothing. But he was scared. It was after midnight now, and you looked exhausted. Even more drained than you did during those early days of your pregnancy where you couldn't even eat and only wanted to sleep.
Sweat dripped down your temple, and your teeth chattered nonstop as you squeezed his hand until he felt his knuckles pop. But you pushed and pushed just like you were told. You were the strongest, most tenacious person he knew, and even though you clearly wanted to give up, you weren't going to.
"I love you," he whispered as you glared at him.
"Now is not the time," you snapped, and he couldn't help but smile a little bit.
"Okay. Later then. When I can love on you and Rosie simultaneously."
"I just want her out," you told him, voice pleading, like you trusted him above anyone else to be able to help you.
But there wasn't much more he could do. He'd been kneeling next to the bed in his flight suit for what felt like days while you mashed his fingers and called him a fucking prick. All he could think to say was, "I'm not leaving your side until she's born."
"We've got progress," Dr. Morris announced just as the machine hooked up to your blood pressure cuff started squawking loudly. "Almost there."
Bradley kept his focus on your face; everyone else would take care of the rest. "You're so close," he whispered, leaning in to kiss your damp cheek. "Rosie's almost here, and then you can rest."
"It's too hard," you sobbed and sucked in a deep breath before clenching your jaw and pushing.
"But you're doing great, Baby Girl. You're so strong." He could hear the nurses cautioning Dr. Morris about your blood pressure, but he pressed his forehead against yours for a beat and said, "Just a little bit more."
He held onto you and wiped at your brow as you looked at him through your tears, and a few minutes later, he heard the announcement he'd been waiting months for.
"Congratulations. A perfect little girl. Time of birth, 1:02 a.m. on March twenty-second," Dr. Morris' voice rang out, followed by the cries of a newborn.
Bradley smiled and whispered, "That's our perfect little girl, Sweetheart."
"It's Rosie," you sobbed, and Bradley kissed your lips while you tried to catch your breath. Your grip on his hand finally loosened, and your tears eased up as you looked toward everyone in scrubs weighing and measuring the baby. When you met his eyes, you whispered, "We have a daughter."
"A Nugget," he confirmed with a nod, swallowing past his tears as one of the nurses finally carried her over. She was naked and crying, and as soon as Bradley saw her, he was head over heels in love.
"You hold her first, Daddy," you whispered, and he reached out with slightly shaky hands toward the second love of his life.
"Oh my god. Look at her," he gasped as Rose was placed in his arms for the first time. His knees and back were killing him, but he'd stay kneeling on this hard floor for the rest of his life if he got to stare at his daughter's eyes fluttering open and closed as she looked up at him and snuggled against his chest.
"She really is perfect," you whispered, and he nodded, unable to look away as her tiny lips parted in yawn. It was the most adorable thing he'd ever seen in his life. She somehow already looked just like you. The weight of responsibility didn't scare him one bit as he stared at the daughter he'd wanted for so long. You and she were his family. When he kissed her forehead, her skin was impossibly soft, and his heart confirmed what he'd already known for months: he would do anything for either of his girls.
"Rose Carole Bradshaw," he said, voice deep with emotion as he carefully placed her in your arms. "We already love you so much."
---------------------------------
I have been waiting ages to write this, and if you're still here, you've probably been waiting ages to read this chapter! Rose has arrived, and Roo and BG are about to embark on a crazy, new adventure! Thank you for reading! And thanks @beyondthesefourwalls and @bellaireland1981
PART 16
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#bradley bradshaw x reader#rooster x you#rooster x reader#rooster imagine#rooster fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw imagine#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader#bradley rooster bradshaw fanfiction#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw imagine#bradley bradshaw x you#bradley bradshaw x female reader#bradley bradshaw fic#bradley bradshaw fanfiction#top gun imagine#top gun maverick imagine#top gun fanfiction#top gun maverick fanfiction#roosterforme#aim for the sky
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Hii🌸 if u don't mind would u pls write for simon w fem reader who's having a difficult pregnancy??:'( if not that's ok, luv ur stuff btw🩷
In Sickness and Health
Simon’s heart breaks when watching going through your first pregnancy
A/N: Omg i watched my old co worked go through a hard pregnancy. It never looks easy no matter how it is going. I love this idea too ❤️
Warnings: sickness, pregnancy, hard pregnancy, underlining depression, arguments, marriage, soft!simon, husband!simon, dad!simon, fluff, little angst, swearing
simon x reader guide
simon x reader fluff/angst
When you found out you were pregnant, it was obvious. No period. Your cravings became intense. You threw up every fucking morning. Simon and you were excited that you were pregnant, people encouraging you that the morning sickness would pass. Instead. It came harder and longer. You cramped all the time, you bled once. Thinking you lost the baby when in fact you didn’t. Doctor reassured that it was normal in some women.
However, both of you didn’t expect the pregnancy to get harder than what people said it would have been. Your mom even said that what you are going through isn’t what she did. You are through your third trimester and nothing changed. Eventually your midwife came to put fluids in you since you couldn’t hold anything in. Throwing up was your new aesthetic. It got harder for you to work so you had to quit your job and stay home. Best friends with your toilet, you slept there day and night until your body grew bigger.
Simon was ordered from Price to stay home until the baby arrived and settled. Price heard from Simon about how the pregnancy has been not the best. You been up all night not being able to sleep from being too hot to throwing up to not being comfortable. Which caused Simon not to sleep, due to being worried about you. He would hold your hair up if you were too tired to even notice it was falling inside the toilet. Simon would wash your hair as you cried. Shushing you to keep you from having a panic attack.
You hated all of what was happening to you where you couldn’t enjoy being pregnant. Counting the days not to see your kid but to have her out. It was like you were hating the fact of everything no that was happening. Feeling like a curse then a miracle. Simon was the opposite even though he was heartbroken to see his love going through only hardship, the thought of having a mini both of you made him warm inside. Bringing it up once had you excited until you would hurl once more.
Simon would bend over backwards for anything you needed. Needed a bath Done. Needed a craving. Done and done again. Needed to be carried to the bed. Done. Needed a belly lift. Done. Anything was possible for Simon if it was for you. Nothing would stop him from helping you.
Was it perfect? Not always. Even when you both were tired and exhausted, you would fight, he would always be right by you. No matter what the fight was about, lately things that were ridiculous.
You both finished a fight and made up as he pet your damp hair, rubbing his other hand on your swollen belly. You were laying on his chest in bed, having your belly rest on the comfort of the mattress.
Sweat consumed you, your body working overboard on making your child and keeping you from not dying from everything else. It was silent before you sobbed. You were done, nothing for you. Your feet hurt. You felt like a whale. And your husband hated you. You’ve been only a bitch since you got pregnant and you were done.
You kept repeating in your head that he truly didn’t want to be here that you were just an excuse of a wife. That he never wanted to help you. That he wished you were gone. All because he didn’t get you your pebble ice. Simon had to leave the house for a while and what did he bring back? The stupid fucking ice. You called him a coward for leaving and not say anything about you said just for him to gift you?
Simon’s heart broke when your son burst out, your body shaking. Concern written on his face as he made your face turn to him. “Love what’s wrong?”
You cried harder as you laid your face in his shirt. “I want her out. And I feel terrible that I don’t want to do this anymore. That I have been a bitch. That I can’t stop throwing up. That this whole pregnancy hasn’t been what people have been saying.” He listened to you rubbing your back in soothing patterns. “I’ve been a terrible wife. I can’t believe I have been awful to you. You only been kind and generous and loving.”
Simon shook his head. “I could never do what you are doin’ dove,” He said quickly as he rubbed your shoulders. “This pregnancy is not been the best for ya.”
You sobbed harder as you clenched your hands into his shirt. Simon started to hush you quietly and soothingly. “You don’t deserve me.”
Simon froze from the comment, he used to say that to you at the beginning of your relationship. Telling you that he is a monster and that he would plague you with his darkness. That you were the angel and he was a demon, instead you showed him that he was the opposite. He was just lost in a broken world of his. Simon knew you were not like this. Not confident. Angry. Negative. No, you were the opposite of all of it.
Simon scooted so he would have you sit up against the frame. “Don’t you say that.” He said sternly.
You scoffed. “It’s true, I called you mean things. I said mean nasty things that are not true. Just over ice? Like how…”
“Stop,” He said stopping you dead in your tracks. “I know you didn’t mean it. Never have you showed me that. Baby,” He watched as your lips trembled, as your skin paled. “I know you love me, you are in pain just like I was. Let me help you bring yourself back as you make our child. You’re almost there love.”
You inhaled deeply as you looked away. “I’m sorry,” You turned to him and placed your hand on his cheek. “I love you Simon.”
Simon smiled and grabbed your hand kissing your knuckles. “I love you too. This is through sickness and health yeah? We promised each other that. So that is what gonna happen.”
You laid back down on him, your heart swelled with joy. You didn’t know how you got such an amazing husband. But all you knew is that he was your soulmate and you were his.
Another month went by and the baby was in distress from your body. She would be a month and half early which could lead into problems. However since your was fighting off too many things it wanted the baby to come out. You laid in the hospital bed as they induced you to push your baby girl out. You cried as Simon held his hand on yours and a cloth against your forehead.
“You got this mama,” The gynecologist announced looking up at you. “She is almost there!”
You looked at Simon concern written on your face and his. “It’s al’ight mamas. ‘M right here.” He whispered soothing you by brushing your damp strands back.
With a couple last pushes you heard a wail. Immediately relief went through your body as you laid all the way down into the bed. You panted as nurses and the doctor tended to the baby. Simon watched back and forth between you and the baby. “Go-Go see her.” You whispered gulping air.
You watched as he gave you a concerned look then nodded. You watched as he looked over the shoulders and smiled. Your heart fluttering. One of the nurses came to look over you. She said something but you couldn’t hear her. You felt nauseous and weak, lightheadedness coming in full swing.
The nurse called out as you felt your eyes roll. After that it was dark, you felt like actual sleep took hold. When you woke up, you were in a different room in the hospital, mouth was dry. When you looked over you saw Simon asleep with your baby girl against his bare chest.
You smiled. “They have been so cute,” You turned your head to see the doctor walking in. “How are you feeling?”
You hummed and coughed a bit. “Thirsty.”
“I bet. You had a blood clot form after giving birth to your baby girl. It can be common and could cause from your body being on overdrive to fix you. You are on blood thinners so take it easy. You have a healthy baby girl, she might be a little smaller than usual but that is expected from a early birth,” she explained looking over your vitals. “Your husband knows what to do. Just get to know your baby and rest.”
That you did, Simon once again by both you and both of your baby girl. Never have you felt so much relief and love. You smiled as Simon changed her diaper humming softly to her. In sickness and health. Is all you thought of as he gave you a kiss handing you your baby girl.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley#call of duty modern warfare#simon ‘ghost’ riley#call of duty#call of duty mw2#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost#simon ghost riley x f!reader#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#simon ghost riley x female reader#simon ghost riley x wife!reader#simon ghost riley fluff#simon ghost riley imagine
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too good to me
pairing: carmen berzatto x reader
summary: after weeks of stress and being on edge, carmy blows up and yells at marcus, but carmy holds such a special place in your heart that you go to his apartment afterward to see how he’s doing
word count: 3.2k
warnings: swearing, arguing, general angst and then fluff
You all knew that something had been on Carmy’s mind. The past few weeks, he’d been more than just anxious. He was really putting his perfectionist tendencies to the extreme. It had been three weeks since officially opening The Bear.
Carmy knew that the first few weeks were crucial to a new business, especially one as volatile as a new-age restaurant. He’d been stressed, which was nothing new for him. But, it was more extreme. He had gotten into an hour-long screaming match with Richie about what specific angle the hostess stand should be pointed.
Everyone was trying to keep Carmy calm, but it had to be done carefully. If he picked up on a tone that was too sympathetic, he’d yell “I’m fine,” and storm off.
With everyone walking on eggshells around him, the tickets for the orders got a little jumbled and in a backwards order.
“Somebody better fucking fix this.” Carmy said, running his hand through his hair. You’d seen him do that move a hundred times, and it usually meant that everything was getting overwhelming. “It’s alright, Carmy. I can handle this. Just go take a quick break outside for me, please?” You asked him.
You were Carmy’s weak spot.
He’d always had a special place in his heart for you. He was wrapped around your finger. If anyone else had told him to take a break, he would have told them to fuck off.
Carmy walked around the corner, where Marcus walked up to him with a new pastry in hand. “Hey, chef. I was thinking we could add a new pastry to the menu for that special event next week?” Marcus asked. It was a perfectly innocent question, especially since Marcus didn’t have any urgent work to be done. In that moment, Marcus was just lacking in reading the room.
“Tonight’s service is a disaster, and you’re wasting your fucking time doing this?” Carmy yelled, smacking the dish out of Marcus’ hand.
That was too far. Farther than Carmy had ever pushed it.
You inserted yourself between the two men. “Marcus, you okay?” You asked him. He nodded his head, but looked down at a small cut on the back of his hand. You placed your hand on his forearm. “Go get that cut washed, and then help Sydney sort out those tickets please.” You said, remaining calm.
“Yes, chef,” Marcus said, walking towards the sink.
Carmy was frozen in place, like even he couldn’t believe what he’d just done. “You,” you started to say, turning around to face Carmy.
“I know,” he said, softly.
“Go home, Berzatto. You need to cool off.” You said, trying to be firm but also gentle. Carmy huffed and ran his hand through his hair again. “But I just…one more—” he started to say.
“Home, Carmen.” You repeated, firmer this time. You called him many things: Carmy, Carm, Bear, and the occasional pet name, but never Carmen.
He walked away, but you heard him slam his hand against the wall as he left.
Still rattled from the whole encounter, you tried to get back on your game. “Syd, you’ve got this,” you encouraged your friend, as she directed the kitchen. The rest of the service was a little bumpy as all of you were still a little distracted.
At the end of the service, you were all silently cleaning up your stations. Normally at this point in the night, you were all catching up and joking around with each other. But instead, you all were recalling the night’s events in your heads.
You lightly knocked on the door of the office, where Sugar was sitting and looking through some forms. “Hey, Nat. You mind if I head out a little early? Richie said he’d clean up my station. I was gonna go check on Carmy and see if he’s alright. I’ve been really worried about him.” You told her.
“Yeah yeah, go for it. I think he’ll want to see you. And it’ll be good for him to talk to someone, and you’re the only one he really talks to.” Sugar told you, pulling you in for a quick hug before you left. She hesitated. “Let me know how he is…I’m worried about him,” she told you, softly.
“I will, I promise.” You said, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze. You turned to leave the office. “Carm’s lucky to have you,” she told you as you walked away. You turned backwards as you kept walking. “The feelings mutual,” you added.
You walked up to Carmy’s apartment and knocked on the door. “Carmy, it’s me, please let me in,” you said.
You heard silence on the other side of the door. You fished your spare key out of your pocket and slid it into the lock. You turned the key slowly and let yourself into his apartment.
You walked into his dark apartment. You saw Carmy’s silhouette as he sat on the couch, staring out the window.
“I gave you that key for emergencies.” He said, coldly. You flipped on the light switch, bringing some light into the dark apartment. “I think what I saw earlier calls for a little intervention, don’t you?” You asked. Carmy sat in silence, continuing to stare out the window. You walked around to the front of the couch so you could face him.
“I don’t want to talk about it.” He said, still refusing to look at you. Carmy felt guilty about what he’d done. He’d never yelled at you before, and he was ashamed that you had to see him scream like that. Carmy cared more about your opinion than he did about anyone else’s.
You walked towards Carmy, only stopping inches in front of him. “When was the last time you ate?” You asked, blatantly. He leaned back against the couch, trying to add some more distance between you both. He shrugged, genuinely not knowing the answer to your question.
You dug into your work bag and pulled out a takeout box. You stopped by Carmy’s favorite burger restaurant in Chicago to grab him some food. You knew Carmy would sometimes forget to eat when he was feeling anxious. “Eat it,” you told him, handing the box over to him.
He reluctantly opened the box and started eating. You set your work bag on the ground and sat down on the chair that faced the couch.
Carmy shifted nervously in his seat as your gaze was set on him. He was unnerved that you weren’t talking about what happened at the restaurant.
Carmy could normally read you like the back of his hand, but something about your current expression was throwing him off. He couldn’t tell if you were going to scream at him or not.
“Are you here to yell at me like everybody else? I already know I screwed up. I shouldn’t have yelled at Marcus, and I shouldn’t have argued when you told me to leave.” He told you, hoping he could apologize and avoid you yelling at him.
“You know that I’m not here to yell at you. You really fucked up, but Marcus knows that you were just stressed. I’m here to make sure you’re doing okay because I’ve never seen you blow up like that” You said, finally showing your cards. Carmy frowned, looking guilty.
“God, you’re too good to me. I acted like a piece of shit today, and you’re still trying to make sure I’m okay.” He said, still amazed by the love you had for him. He was looking at you like you were his whole world.
He set down the takeout box and used his hand to call you over to him. You stood up and walked towards him, and he patted the seat next to him.
You joined him on the couch. You both were sitting so close together that you were practically in his lap. He turned his body so he could face you.
He let his hand rest on your thigh, feeling more grateful for you than he ever had. You let your fingers caress his bicep, “you deserve to be okay. I want you to be okay,” you said, softly.
You studied his face. You noticed the small bags that had formed under his eyes. You wondered when the last time he’d actually gotten a good night’s sleep was.
You softly brushed his hair out of his face. When he was stressed, Carmy liked to pull on a certain strand of hair right in the front. You knew him like the back of your hand. You noticed all of his quirks; quirks that most people never picked up on.
Carmy watched as you gently tried to soothe him. He was sure you could see the adoration in his eyes.
“I hope you know how perfect you are. You always know exactly what to say.” He said, smiling at you. He pulled your hand away from his hair and interlaced your fingers. He’d wanted to kiss the back of your hand, but couldn’t push himself to do it.
“Do you wanna talk about why you’ve been so stressed recently?” You asked. You were treading lightly, but you wanted to understand what was making him so anxious. You hated seeing him push everyone away, and you wanted to help in any way you could.
He shrugged. “It’s just the restaurant,” he said, not knowing how else to explain it.
“The restaurant is doing amazing though, Carmy. You have no need to stress about that. You’ve been doing such a great job.” You told him, sincerely.
You watched him get a little more nervous. He was looking down at his lap, avoiding meeting your gaze. You ran your thumb over the back of his hand, trying to silently reassure him.
“You can tell me anything, Carm,” you said, softly.
“You just mean so much to me,” he started to explain. You were a little confused as to where he was going with this conversation. The room was silent as Carmy gathered his thoughts.
“Everything at the restaurant has been going so well. Every time my life has ever gone well, something terrible has happened next. I feel like I’m just waiting for everything to…I don’t know, crumble? Losing the restaurant would be terrible, but losing you and the rest of the team would be devastating. You guys are my family.” He told you, his voice cracking with emotion.
Tears threatened to spill from his eyes. You quickly pulled him into you arms, giving him the tightest hug you could. He clutched onto you like he was scared you’d disappear if he let you go.
“You aren’t going to lose anybody,” you said, holding back tears just from watching how emotional Carmy was.
The soft leather scent of Carmy’s cologne occupied your thoughts as you held him close. You both stayed attached like that for a few minutes. The room was silent, but a comfortable silent.
When you both finally pulled apart, Carmy dried the tears off his cheeks. “Nothing bad is going to happen with the restaurant. We’re all family, and that doesn’t go away based on what happens with the restaurant. You will never lose me, or any of us.” You promised him.
You earned a small chuckle from Carmy when you held your pinky up to him. “You won’t lose me either,” he said, dutifully going through with your pinky promise.
You both stared into each other’s eyes, unsure what to say next. The tension in the air nearly made it hard to breathe.
“I should probably get going and let you have the rest of your evening. I’ll see you tomorrow.” You said, standing up from the couch.
You had never felt so awkward around Carmy. Just the task of walking to the front door felt like a giant opportunity to embarrass yourself. Carmy also quickly jumped up from the couch, feeling equally self-conscious.
His hand lightly grazed your back as he led you back to the front door. “Thank you for coming over and talking to me. You really helped calm me down.” He said, sincerely. You smiled and nodded your head at him.
“Make sure to call me if you ever need to talk about anything. I promise that I’ll always be here to listen,” you assured him.
The tension returned.
You both chose to avoid it.
“Well, goodnight,” you both quickly said, at the same time. You rushed out the door, and Carmy closed it behind you.
The door clicked into place and seemingly broke you both out of your trance.
You both realized you had missed the perfect opportunity. The perfect opportunity to finally confess those feelings that had been weighing you down.
You lowered your head, almost shamefully, and started walking down the hallway.
Carmy leaned his head against the closed door, wondering how he could have missed it. The girl of his dreams was walking down the hallway away from his apartment, away from him.
He started to walk towards his bedroom when he suddenly thought “fuck it,” and turned around.
At the same time in the hallway, you had the same thought.
Your heart beating in your ears, you turned on your heel and headed back towards Carmy’s apartment.
Carmy started walking back towards the front door. Before he could reach the door, he watched the knob spin and the door fling open.
You were back and standing in front of him.
Realizing you both had the same idea, Carmy quickly closed the gap between the two of you. His strong tattooed hands cupped your cheeks as he finally kissed you. You kissed him back immediately, wrapping your arms tightly around his waist.
He moved one of his hands away from you, but just a second, so he could quickly close the front door behind you.
He pushed you against the back of the door. The back of your head bumped against the door causing you to grin against the kiss. “Oh, shit, sorry. You okay?” he asked, cupping the back of your head. You quickly nodded your head. “I’m fine, I promise.” You said, grabbing his collar and pulling him back to kiss you.
He smirked against your lips at your eagerness to not break the kiss for even a second. He held onto your waist and pinned you against the door, while you wrapped your arms around his neck and toyed with his hair.
His lips felt perfect against yours. The kiss was somehow everything you’d dreamed of but completely unexpected.
You shifted your weight against him, gently nudging him away from the door. Carmy picked up on what you were doing. You noticed his signature smirk as he guided you towards the couch.
You fell back onto the couch, pulling Carmy down on top of you. All his weight landed on you, causing you to wince. “Sorry, that more violent than it was supposed to be.” He said, sheepishly. He quickly shifted his weight, so he was holding himself above you.
You both were giggly as these little mishaps continued to happen. It suited your relationship. You both had always been able to joke with each other, especially because of your matching sense of humor. It made sense that when you both finally got together that Carmy would accidentally bump your head against the door. But it didn’t make things awkward. You both were so comfortable just giggling with each other.
“Get back here, Berzatto,” you said, connecting your lips again. He quickly obliged. While Carmy loved laughing with you, he had been waiting years to kiss you and wasn’t going to waste the opportunity.
“You look so fuckin’ pretty,” he mumbled as he kissed you. You quickly slipped his tshirt over his head and tossed it to the side.
Then, you both heard a strange muffled sound. You pulled out of the kiss and gave Carmy a concerned look. It sounded like someone was in the apartment.
Your face completely changed when you realized what it was. “Carmy, that’s your phone. You butt dialed someone,” you whispered. His eyes also grew wide. He quickly grabbed his phone out of his pocket, hoping he could hang up and not say anything.
Once his phone was in his hand, he realized it was a FaceTime call and he was now face-to-face with his sister.
“Oh, shit. Sugar?” He said, the shock clear on his face. You immediately held your hand over your mouth, trying to remain completely silent.
“Hey, uh yeah. You called me? Are you okay?” She asked, confused by the whole situation.
“Oh, I must’ve done it on accident, sorry. Listen, I’m really sorry about yelling tonight. I’m gonna come in tomorrow and apologize to everyone though.” He said, sincerely. You were finding it so hard to not giggle. He was on the phone with Sugar while lying directly on top of you, and you just had to stay silent.
“It’s okay, Carm. Everyone knows you’ve been going through a lot. Y/N was going to head over to your apartment. Did you talk to her?” Natalie asked, genuinely invested.
Carmy quickly nodded his head. “Yeah, she came by earlier and we talked. I’m doing a lot better. Yeah, she’s umm—” Carmy stalled as he tried to come up with a lie.
Natalie picked up on his hesitation immediately. “Oh shit. Is she— are you two— wait is she there now?” She asked, putting it all together. You froze, trying to anticipate Carmy’s next move.
He quickly sat up on the couch before pulling you into his lap. “Hi, Nat,” you said, smiling at the camera and bracing for her reaction. You both watched her jaw drop.
“Did my two favorite people finally confess their love for each other? Oh, you guys,” she awed, being able to read you both just from the way you both were blushing.
Carmy buried his face in your neck. He knew how long Natalie had been rooting for this to happen, and he was having a hard time controlling how red his face was.
“You’re good for him. I’m really happy for you guys,” she said to you. You smiled in return and thanked her.
“Well, I’ll let you both get back to it.” She said, winking at you both and ending the call.
“So, how long before everybody knows?” He asked you. You just laughed in response, knowing it wouldn’t be long.
“I think she’s already sent an all-caps text to Sydney and Richie, and the rest of them will know before we go into work tomorrow.” You told him, honestly.
“We could just stay here tomorrow. We don’t really need to go in, right?” He said, pressing kisses to your cheek.
“Would that be the responsible thing to do?” You teased him. He chuckled and pecked your lips. “You know I would spend every second with you, whether it was responsible or not.” He told you.
You giggled, stopping him from kissing you. “Awww we’re only fifteen minutes in and I’m already your biggest weakness? You big softie,” You continued to joke around with him.
“You’ve always been my weakness, sweetheart,” he said, quickly picking up and carrying you to his bedroom.
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— ↺ Jealously
✎ luffy x reader !
✦ summary ➠ you start feeling a little jealous after a certain incident
✦ warnings ➠ nsfw, flashing, swearing
— The fight with Crocodile and Baroque Works was finally over, it felt like the brawl lasted years. But now, the Straw Hat pirates could get all the rest they so desperately needed. In return for helping the kingdom, the pirates were allowed to eat as much as their heart desired. They were also invited to enjoy the palaces royal bath.
You now sat in that very bath with Nami and Vivi. It was a beautiful place, to say the least. Everything was dressed in shiny gold, glistening as the mist from the warm water filled the room. You were in the women’s side of course, but you thought if this side was this grand then the men’s area must be just as nice. This made you think of your boyfriend, Luffy. He was just on the other side of that wall, you guessed he was fooling around like he usually would.
As you admired the bath, Nami and Vivi chatted about what the world could hold for them; how the world has so many secrets that are just waiting to be found out.
“Y/n, could you get my back?” Vivi asked sweetly, her long blue hair was slightly darker due to the water. She chose to have a towel wrapped around her figure rather than being fully naked. You too chose to have a towel on.
“Of course, your highness.” You joked as you made your way towards her to take a seat on the stool behind her. You gathered the sponge that was soaked in soapy water, gently but firmly scrubbing the blue haired princess.
“Don’t call me that!” It was light hearted but it did hold some truth, she truly felt like you guys were friends now and she was grateful for all that you have done.
“Her highness is angry!” Nami added in, laughing along with you as you both ganged up on Vivi. She caved in too, she couldn’t hold in her giggles any longer. It was nice just to enjoy each others presence after all the fighting.
A comfortable silence overcame the room, all three of you smiling. Until suddenly, Nami’s smile dropped as she stood up. This made you and Vivi turn your heads in that direction, what you saw surprised you. All of the guys were now on your side of the bath, peering at you over the wall.
You clutched the towel tightly, ensuring none of your body would be exposed. “What are you doing, you freaks?!” You and Vivi screeched together, this is the girls side, you idiots, you thought.
“Peeking on us.” Nami walked closer to the group, she too had a towel on. “All right pervs, I expect each of you to pay $3000 for this!” Nami declared as she let the cloth fall to the ground, letting the men see all of her.
You were shocked, not only because she just showed them her naked body, but also because your boyfriend was part of that group that saw her. oh.
They all toppled backwards, many noses oozing out blood from the sight they just saw.
Something bubbled deep inside of you, jealousy. You don’t know why you felt this way, it’s not like Luffy asked to be flashed, it’s not like he wanted that to happen. You told yourself that, but you still felt the same as before, jealous.
Nami and Vivi left the bath and so did the men that were laid out on the floor. But you stayed, you decided to wash yourself with the sponge you were using earlier on Vivi, you need time to yourself to think and calm down from the previous event. He saw another girl naked, and it was one of your closest friends.
As you rubbed the sponge along your bare legs, you yelped when you felt a hand touch your shoulder. “Wha-”
“It’s me Y/n!” He smiled and used that tone he always did, a energetic one. He was acting the same as always, like he didn’t just see Nami in the nude. That makes you irritated slightly.
“Oh, hey Luffy.” You brushed his hand off your shoulder, resuming the wash on your legs.
“What’s wrong?” His furrowed with worry, he kneeled in front of you where you sat on the stool. He took note of the coolness in your tone, how you barely looked at him as you spoke. Usually you’d have a soft smile on your face, usually you’d be eager to talk to him. But now you were different.
“Nothing, just busy. I didn’t get a chance to properly wash myself fully. You can go.” You said nothing was wrong but that was a lie. You really just wanted to be alone in your thoughts right now. You would rather Luffy not be here because you were afraid you’d lash out at him for no real reason, you didn’t want to hurt him.
“No, I wanna spend time with you.” He was still kneeling down, now leaning closer to your body. “I’ve been sleeping for 3 days!”
“Ya well, that’s what happens when your bleeding out and have poison in your system.” You turned away from him, making more room between the both of you. Now you were just being mean.
“Y/nnn, tell me what’s wrong.” He whined, looking at you with those big eyes, they looked so desperate to know your answer. Those eyes make you weak, they make you cave every time he wants something.
“It’s just…” He still held intense eye contact, listening intently. “Earlier, you know when Nami.. did what she did. You saw her body, you saw her breasts and her hips and her.. you saw everything!”
“Oh.” Is all he says, he looks zoned out. Is he mad at you? Does he think your feelings are stupid. You look away, starting to feel embarrassed. But his hand on your chin brings you back to his eyes. “Is that what you’re mad about?”
You nodded while still in his grip. He pulled you in, placing a gentle kiss to your lips. You couldn’t help but reciprocate, even if you were still a little jealous.
“You don’t have to feel jealous, Y/n.” He whispered between kisses. “Because you’re my girlfriend, not Nami. You’re the only one I want to see naked. I want to see you naked right now, actually.”
You pulled away from the kiss, blinking a few times at his statement. You weren’t feeling much jealousy anymore, mostly just lust. You grabbed the top of your towel, where the piece of clothing wrapped around itself to keep your body concealed. You tugged on it, making it fall off your body and drop to the ground at your ankles.
“Pretty.” He reached out both hands to grope at your boobs, squishing them between his fists once or twice. “These are the only pair of boobs I think about, prettiest ones I’ve ever seen.”
He went down to lay kisses all over them, sucking when he got to your nipple. He’s always had a thing for you chest, he would spend all day kissing them, licking them, laying on them if he had a choice.
He smiled up at you, laying one last kiss to your nipple before lowering to align himself with your heat. He spread your legs apart further to allow room for his head, snuggling up close to your pussy.
“This is the best pussy out there.” He used his fingers to split your lips apart, face diving in. He started by licking on your clit, he knew you loved when he did that. And it was proved by how your hand slipped in his dark hair, pulling on the roots of it. You shoved his face in harder, wanting to feel more of him.
“Luffy!” You moaned out, curling your toes. He sucked on your clit next, making you lose your breath.
He starting sucking harder, licking more aggressively, wanting you to reach your orgasm quickly. You panted, feeling sparks starting to form in your lower half. Your legs shook and shut around Luffy’s head, trapping him in.
He slid out of your thighs, licking his lips clean from your juices.
“You have the only pair of boobs for me, you have the only pussy for me, you’re the only one for me, Y/n. K?” He kissed your cheek and grabbed your towel to drape around you again. He took your hand and pulled you along behind him, leading you away and out of the royal bath.
#one piece#op#luffy#monkey d. luffy#luffy x reader#monkey d. luffy x reader#one piece x reader#luffy smut#one piece luffy#op x reader#straw hat luffy#op luffy#straw hat pirates#nami#roronoa zoro#anime x reader#x reader#fanfiction#fanfic#smut#black and white
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summary: leto atreides x afab concubine!reader
cw: daddy kink, pregnancy, power imbalance, dark fic coded, implication that the other concubines “disappeared”, overstimulation, body worship, i would do anything to be in reader’s position here i’m being so real, not included but got reader pregnant in the full nelson position, the smut is in a flashback, mention of the reader having hip dips, mention of leto with others but he realizes you’re the one after lmao, probably dune world/lore inaccuracies, reader’s a member of the duke’s breeding program, mention of choking, intended age gap but you can read it as otherwise
wc: 1k+
block & move on if uncomfortable !!!
do not repost, translate, or give ai my work
kinktober masterlist
“It’s to wake up, my love.”
Your eyes flutter open to see Duke Leto Atreides standing over your bed, one of his hands brushing back some of your hair away from your face. He smiles warmly when you tiredly meet his gaze, and holds out an open palm. You take it and let him help you sit up, though that’s as far as he’s willing to let you go. Leto hovers his hands over your baby bump, borderline paranoid about you doing anything that could jeopardize the health of the baby.
“I thought my appointment with the doctor wasn’t until next week, my lord…” You yawn, resting your hands on your belly as you fight off sleep. Being heavily pregnant was no easy task, and most days it feels like you have as much energy as a corpse.
“It is, I simply wanted to see you.” Leto answers, petting your hair and curling one arm around your lower back to support it. “When we’re alone, get rid of the ‘my lord’, what we have is more than the results of an obligation.”
You sigh, leaning into his touch as you consider his words. Months ago, you were just another member of the Duke’s harem. One of many meant to produce heirs until your body shriveled up. Your family was noteworthy but not noble enough to stay afloat, you heard that the Duke was looking for breeders and you left without looking back. Though you will admit that Leto Atreides is not the worst man you could’ve taken inside you. He was gentle and the way he kissed you suggested that he felt more than just gratitude.
You pretended to not mind the sounds and stories you heard from the other concubines in the beginning. You knew perfectly well what you were signing up for, the feelings came from nowhere, you swear.
Leto’s mannerisms during sex were impossibly adoring and intimate, and he would tell you were special every time in the midst of the afterglow. You stopped hearing heart dropping noises and nauseating stories, and the day after you found out you were pregnant you heard nothing at all. The Duke took longer than usual to meet with you that night.
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“I’m sorry I kept you waiting.” Leto calls out, wrapping his arms around you from behind as you get ready for bed.
You finish tying the strings of your nightgown and turn around to face him. There are strange little flecks of red in the wrinkles on his face, but they could be a trick of the light so you brush the curiosity off.
“I am always waiting for you, my lord.” You repeat the same thing you say everyday, noting the way the corners of his smile flatten in displeasure.
He cups your face and walks the both of you backwards towards the bed, shooting his hands out to keep himself from crushing you when you inevitably fall on it.
Time passes by in a blur, every moment filled with cries of “Daddy” and overzealous movement from him that punches the breath of your lungs. He’s not incredibly rough, just passionate enough to have tears dot your lashes and his thumb buried in your mouth. Every kiss is a hot swirling mess of saliva and tongues colliding that gets you so wet, you really believe it could kill you.
“Mm, your tongue feels amazing, clumsily chasing after mine.” Leto grunts at some point, rutting and slamming his balls against your ass with no rhyme or reason. “The tightest cunt i’ve ever had, fuck-“
You hum around his thumb, suckling on it like he’s your god and his thick fingers in your mouth are your only reason to live. He grinds his teeth together when you make eye contact, and you struggle to keep it up as you hollow out your cheeks around his coarse digits.
“Wanna make you proud, Daddy, gonna be so good for you.” The words are muffled past the point of comprehension, but your eyes allow him to get the gist.
If you were not already pregnant, the flood of fresh cum in your pussy would’ve done the trick. You clench around your lord’s fat cock and let yourself break, squirting all over yourself.
When you come to, Leto’s busying himself with latching onto your tits like a leech and bullying your battered pussy.
“These are already so sensitive, aren’t they? And to think that I made them that way…” Leto trails off, licking a broad stripe over your nipple and pinching your clit.
You jolt and throw your head back, “Yes, Daddy, you did.”
He groans at the frequently used name, pinching your clit harder and digging his fingers in deeper. You’ve had more orgasms than you ever thought possible in the last hour alone, but your lord was insatiable like this. His head is too high in the clouds with visions of his future family to calm down.
Your legs shake but he takes his hand away from your clit and smooths his palm over your thigh to steady you.
“It’s alright, you know i won’t be too rough honey, you can take it. You’ve already taken my seed beautifully, growing my son in your womb.”
You know there’s no chance of stopping until Leto’s sure that he’s kissed and lavished every inch of your delectable body in Daddy’s attention. He gives each of your buds a ‘Goodbye for now’ kiss and wipes down the dips in your hips with his tongue, soothing the love bites and caressing the necklace of bruises around your neck he left when he lost control.
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The bed sinks with Leto’s added weight, and your cheeks warm as you come back to the present. You look down at your joined hands to see a box clenched tightly in his free one. Like he’s scared of dropping it. You gaze up at him questioningly and he smiles once again before softly kissing the skin between your eyes.
Next thing you know, Duke Leto Atreides is kneeling before you and opening the box to reveal a large ring. It’s magnificently crafted and all the details align with your taste perfectly.
“Will you marry me?”
#kinktober#leto atreides#leto atreides x reader#leto atreides x you#dune#dune x you#dune x reader#dune fanfiction#dune fic#dune smut#oscar isaac#oscar isaac smut#oscar isaac fic#oscar isaac fanfiction#oscar isaac x reader#oscar isaac x you#dark fic#⚰️.deaddove#tw daddy kink#tw pregnancy#tw overstim#tw age gap
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NEUVILLETTE X MAID! READER
Wow... Veri filthy is all I can say :') this took quite long but i do hope you enjoy! :D
NSFW PLEASE STEP OR LOOK AWAY IF UNCOMFORTABLE
Tw: swearing, dirty talk, breeding, size kink, overflowing cum, mirror sex, manhandle
No one thought that the famous Neuvillette needed any maid... He does things fine by himself. People who know the fact that Neuvillette has a maid is only a small percentage, even those small percent of people don't know what or how the maid could help him.
Of course they wouldn't know.. they have never even seen you.. but once they do, they'll know who you actually are and what you do to help..
"Ma-master... Am here.." you slowly entered Neuvi's work room and walked towards him. He looks up at you and smiles, reaching out when you're at his arms length and pulling you towards him. Immediately sniff your neck as he slowly rubs your hips. Neuvi lets out a low hum while playing with your short skirt.
"I miss you" you look at Neuvi after he said that, a small glimmer in his eye as he stares at you up and down, stroking your thighs "mmh, miss master Neuvi too.." you slowly guide his hand up,using his hand to ride up your already short skirt, showing your baby blue panties with only a simple knot on both sides holding it up.
His eyes trail down to your panties, Neuvi looks at how the panties compliment your skin tone. While he keeps playing with your hips sensually, he slowly inches towards your shoulder strap, slowly pulling it downward, showing your lovely shoulder that he loves to mark with his marks.
Neuvillette stands up and kisses your lips passionately. By instinct you walk backwards until you hit a cold mirror behind you which makes you shiver. The coldness seeps on your skin, your nipple perks up, showing little bumps against your maid costume. Neuvillette saw this and pulled away from the kiss, immediately touching and fumbling your cute nipple through your clothes.
"Ngh! Ma-master!" Your shoulder shudders as you slowly curl your shoulder up as if trying to hide yourself. The shoulder strap slowly becomes loose on your arm as the rest of your clothing piece that covers your chest slowly moves downwards too. "This is disturbing me from touching your body..." Neuvillette growls. He immediately pulls down the clothing that covers your breast. Once he does, your breasts bounce a little because of the roughness "nghh!!! Mas-master!" You mewl out as you try to hold his arm. "Ma-master please slow down" you tapped his hand a couple of times as he started to roughly knead your breast "let me do the work. I need this after a long day, okay baby?"
Neuvillette grabs your thighs and puts your leg around his waist. You hug his waist back as you hold yourself up and hold his shoulder. Slowly the both of you started to make out but as the second went on it turned into full blown make out. Wet sloppy noise escapes your mouth as you both exchange the kisses. Little moans and whimper escape your mouth. You can feel his thick cock poking and suffocating in his pants, slowly as well as you could, you grind his hard on, making Neuvi groan. His warm big hand slowly reaches to your panties and pulls on one of the strings and then the second one after a couple of seconds while making out with you.
You didn't even notice him pulling your panties loose until you felt Neuvi's bulge grind against you. You pull away from the kiss and look down, seeing your wetness has already tainted your master's pants "eyes here" Neuvi command while gripping your chin. You let out another whimper and follow along your master's command.
Neuvi tried to give a little distance between your pussy and his bulge so that he could pull out his cock but everytime he pulled away just an inch, your hips would follow him as soon as your pussy stopped grinding on him. "such a slut" he puts you down and flips you so now your back is facing him and you stare at your flustered reflection on the long mirror that you have been ignoring. You take a peek down to see Neuvi's cock that he immediately pulls out of his pants. Neuvi noticed your eyes and smirked. He lets his cock loose and lets his cock slap your pussy and thighs instead "look at your expression in the mirror.. face so desperate for my cock hm?" He puts his hand around your neck and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at his cock in between your thighs.
Neuvi's shaft has already been drench with your slick and you saw it. "Ngh mas-master pl-please put it in" you whine as you rub your hips down on his dick. With your face still being held by Neuvi, you try your best to reach down and try to grab his cock but Neuvi took your hand just as you were about to touch him and held your hand on your back "kitten. No, be patient" Neuvi's sound is full of warning.
He stops holding back your hand which made you hold the mirror again, Neuvi stroke down from your neck all the way to your chest he pinch your nipple and played with it, making you squirm and rubs the both of your thighs which further smushing Neuvi's cock, making him groan "Such a dirty reaction to me playing with your nipple kitten.. what if i just..." he pulled your nipple which elicited a squeak out of you "Ngah!!! Ah! Mas-master! No! Oh! No-please stop! My n-nipple" as more fluid came out of you Neuvi slowly puts in his tip inside of you which made you open your thighs more to let him access your pussy "Oh?.. you open your leg without my order..." Neuvi puts his lips beside your ear "Such a desperate girl no?" He whispers before immediately inserting his dick with so much force that you swear your leg levitates for a second when he thrust his dick in "Ngh! Oh! Ah! Mast-Master Ha-" your brain feels like mush as Neuvi inserts his big cock in you.
His thrust are slow but so deep and hard. Neuvi held your waist, as every thrust he made, made your body jump up, might as well pick you up right? He hold the both of your thigh and pick you up. The only thing holding you up now is Neuvi's cock and his hands. Your stupid brain just can't process anything but keep moaning and mewling for Neuville "Master! Mas-master! Ahhh s-sho goodhhh!!". Neuville looks at how your chest bounces up and down as his cock imprints your stomach everytime he thrust deep inside. Your eyes roll backwards "Ma-Master! Ouh! De-deep! Ah!" Your hand snake backwards, touching and clinging to Neuvi's neck as fat tears kept streaming out "Mmhh! Hah! Deep! Deep deep! Ah! Too deep! Master!". Your skirt bounces too, following his movement.
At this point your wetness is dripping down already, the squelch of your pussy and his cock proves it. Neuvi's face flushes red, seeing the bump on your stomach everytime he thrust, it's hypnotizing, he can't seem to stop. No, he wont stop. He'll fill you up to the brim till you beg him to stop. As you feel like Neuvi's thrust goes deeper and faster, the knot that has been building up also slowly comes undone.
As his thrust goes harder, your stomach starts to get hard and your pussy starts to get tighter, meaning you're coming. "Wanna cum sweet girl? Go ahead kitten, be a good kitty hm?" With his words you immediately squirt all over the mirror as he pushes his dick deep inside you, he stayed there for a while, enjoying your pussy throb around him "Oh my.. look at you so fuck out of your mind kitten?". You can barely make out the words he is saying but oh the way your pussy sucks him back everytime he tries to pull out is so addicting "Uhf.. if you keep throbbing like that around my cock- I won't be ab-able to hold myself.." Neuvi keeps trusting himself up into your wet soping hole, the sound is combining with your hiccups and cries alongside the little whimper of "master's" that sent Neuvi on the edge.
"Kitten, I-I am c-cumming" he warns you as his thrust started to slower down. You are still on his arm, your head is now thrown back to his shoulder until suddenly you felt a warm liquid filled you up, making you shudder and lets out a long moan one last time "euhhnnggg M-Masterrngg" now you are drooling all over Neuvi's shoulder as he huff and puff, his hips twitching. He slowly walks towards the nearest sofa, still looking at the mirror and put you on his lap all the while his fat cock is still deep inside you. Neuvi slowly pulls out of your pussy and a rain of cum drooling out of your parts. Neuvi pokes your stomach gently, looking at the bulge that he made, oh the way your pussy gushes his cum out.. you look so pretty like this... Fuck out and tired because of him.
Neuvi slowly strokes your hair and kisses your lips softly. He felt your small body still twitching little by little. Whenever he touches your stomach, your body would shake a little. You look so helpless... Easily mold just to his liking. Neuvi kisses you one more time before taking a wet tissue and cleans you up slowly, as best as he can as to not make you... Cum again which has no problem but your poor pussy needs rest too.. you did cum quite hard. Neuvi lets out a small laugh looking at your still trembling and flustered form. "Kitten, you did a great job... You did great, master so proud of you hmm" he kisses your lips again not forgetting to clean up your face and tears. "Ma-mastern.." you moan out slowly looking at him with half lidded eyes, lips puckering out as if asking for a kiss. Neuvi cannot say no to you... He has no intention either and so he kisses you, pecking your lips full of love. Although you have been his... "maid" for a while he is planning to keep you for himself... Not just your body but your heart too.. maybe not now but sooner or later.. he'll just have to find the perfect timing but till then, you'll be his only, special, cute, and beloved maid.
#genshin fanfiction#genshin x reader#genshin fanfic#genshin neuvillette#neuvilette x reader#neuvillete x reader#neuvillette x y/n#neuvillette x you#genshin smut#neuvillette smut#bd/sm master#genshin impact smut
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Clever boy - Eddie Diaz smut
Summary: after weeks of tricking you into thinking he’s a bottom, Eddie pulls the ultimate switch engaging in a very sexy game of sex.
Warnings: mommy kink, daddy kink, bottom! Eddie, top! Eddie
Eddie was a smart man, clever in fact, He had been seeing y/n for weeks, and it's been the most fun he's had. After having a long talk with his best friend about his quickly drying up sex life, he went out and found someone to spice it up, and that's exactly what you did.
For weeks, he had put up with being submissive with you, letting you think you had full control of his body, but that was the fun part, he was gonna flip your entire world around tonight. You had both talked about it previously, what would happen if he ever decided he was taking control, you had no issue, telling him it was at his own pace, but you'll miss his submissive side.
As you walked into your boyfriend's apartment, you couldn't help but to feel like you were being watched. Shuttering as you walked down the hall you sighed "Eddie! This isn't funny! Your text said it was an emergency!" You shouted "I swear you're gonna regret this, Edmundo" You sneered, looking into his bedroom, and yet, nobody. As you went to turn around to search the living room again, you were met with a torso dressed in a nice blue suit, you could tell just by the fabric it was expensive. You gasped taking a step back to run, but a hand grabbed you tightly, pulling you flush against his chest, looking up you were met with Eddie's coy smirk. "Relax. I've got you, princesa" He whispered "I think we need to have a little chat" He whispered, almost like you were in trouble. "Edmundo, I left work for this, you're so gonna re-" He cut you off with a harsh glare "Hush" He demanded walking you backwards to a chair in the corner of his bedroom. You let out a breath of air as you felt yourself fall into the seat, looking up at Eddie, fully taking in how hot he was.
"I've let you prance around, letting you think your in charge..but papi's getting a little bored of it" Eddie whispered, leaning down grabbing the armrests, meeting you at eye level. "Eddie" You warned, resting your hands on his about to stand up, but he quickly rotated his wrists, trapping your hands "Not uh, stay." He demanded, his tone deep, almost unrecognizable. "What're you doing?" You asked, slowly growing more irritated as he spoke "I like to play with my food, y/n" He whispered in your ear before biting your neck gently "But this is my game, and it's time, we're both on the same page" He continued, kneeling on the ground slowly, not breaking eye contact with you "Don't get me wrong princesa, I love watching you tell me what to do, its adorable, but now I need you" He grunted pulling off your leggings with ease, running his hands up and down your thighs slowly.
"Yes sir" You said jokingly, rolling your eyes, Eddie was quick to grab your jaw roughly "Keep up the attitude, brat. Now. Again without the bitchiness" He spat, you shifted in your seat, now feeling extremely nervous under his gaze. "Yes sir" Your voice was barely above a whisper, you could feel his deep breaths against your inner thigh, looking down you moaned under your breath, Eddie's head was placed perfectly between your thighs, his eyes never taking their gaze off of your face. "buena nina" Eddie praised, you gulped, watching his hand creep up your thigh towards your underwear. "E-Eddie" You whined, he grunted, swatting your ass swiftly "Sir?.." You questioned, he responded by raising his gaze back to you, you were trying desperately to find the words "Speak, mami" He whispered, kissing your inner thigh softly, god damnit this man is gonna kill you. You licked your lips, your mouth suddenly dry, your heart was racing with excitement. Eddie gently took your wrist into his palm, pressing his fingertips against your artery to find your pulse "Hey, you're okay, princesa, relax" He whispered kissing your palm gently "I've got you" Eddie added on before pulling you up and towards the bed "I want you, sir" You finally mustered out, the smirk on his face returned, and so did the dark look in his eyes.
"All you had to do was ask, mami" Eddie whispered before pulling off his shirt, you grunted grabbing his belt undoing it yourself, you could see how hard Eddie was breathing once his shirt was off. Before Eddie could do anything else he rolled onto his side "W-Wha..-" You whimpered, Eddie chuckled "I wanna see you be mami again" He smirked, he knew exactly what he was doing, and my lord was Buck right, this is totally spicing things up. "Very funny" You said, trying to keep your voice level, but failing miserably. It was almost crazy how Eddie managed to switch, his gaze changing to look at you with full submission and admiration. "Please, mami, please" He begged, letting his head fall into the pillows, you took in a shaky breath, the knot in your stomach was so tight you felt like you could puke. "More" You demanded quietly, ghosting your hand over his cock that was pressed against his slacks so much you could start to see outlines. "I can't hear you, mami! please touch me anywhere" He begged, his back arching as he tried to grind against your hand, you felt a wave of confidence rush over you, pressing your hand down, watching as he bit his lip fighting back a moan "Yes! fuck!" He grunted as you straddled him, leaning down ghosting your lips over his, right as you felt like you started to get control, Eddie quickly flipped you over "My turn, mami" He whispered in your ear, pinning your hands above your head, you leaned further back on the bed, your underwear was soaked, you could feel it between your legs as you squeezed your legs together "Naughty girl" He whispered using his other hand to open your legs, using his leg to keep them open "I'm s-sorry, you're just so fucking hot, and not doing anything" You whined, grinding against nothing trying to find any type of friction. Eddie smirked pressing his thigh against your pussy, making you gasp, digging your nails into the side of his hand.
"What, princesa? What do you want from me?" He teased, tracing his fingertips over your clit, even with a thong on, you could still feel everything. "Fuck me, Eddie, please" You begged, Eddie was about to cum right there, since you two had gotten together he had never heard you beg, especially not for him. "Fuck..." He whispered, you watched as Eddie looked down towards his slacks then slowly working his gaze up your body. "Please, sir, please fuck me, Eddie, I need you, please" You whined, arching your back desperate to feel his skin against yours. Your boyfriend dropped his hold on your hands, ripping his own slacks off as he kissed you deeply, you kissed back happily. You felt his tongue slowly find it's way into your mouth, his hands busy with other things, you gasped as you felt him push into you slowly.
"Such a slut for me" You heard him grunt, you bit your lip watching him lean up, running a hand through his hair as he bottomed out inside of you, taking your opportunity you ran your nails down his chest, leaving faint red lines. He grunted thrusting his hips taking you by surprise "Oh my god" You panted trying to lean up to kiss him, but Eddie pressed a hand onto your chest forcing you back onto the bed. He took your hips in his hands flipping you both again "We're gonna play a game, got that, princesa?" He asked, you met his gaze finally as he lifted your chin with his finger "Yes sir.." You whispered, biting your lip, desperate for him to do anything, you felt like you were going to die if you didn't cum soon.
"We're gonna switch..to see who cums faster" He whispered "Just to see who's a better dominate" He added on, you nodded faintly, Eddie looking towards you, grasping any sense of reality you had, you started grinding your hips against his. You could feel his legs tense, his fists grabbing at the sheets "What, baby? Is this too much?.." You teased, running your hands up and down his chest "N-No no please don't stop, don't stop" He whined, you grabbed the base of his neck, making eye contact with him "Don't worry, mami will make it feel better" You teased further, as you started moving your hips faster, Eddie moaned loudly, bucking his hips up meeting your grinds. You stopped immediately, squeezing his neck just enough to cause his cock to twitch inside of you “did you ask to fuck me?” You growled, Eddie smirked flipping you, reversing the roles as he know held your neck “I don’t need permission to fuck mi amor whenever my cock is buried inside of her” he growled, bucking his hips harshly, you whined covering your mouth much to Eddie’s disliking “did I say be quiet? Papi wants to hear you” he whispered biting your collarbone lightly as he slammed his cock further inside of you “Eddie!” You screamed out arching your back “buena nina” he growled not slowing his pace “fuck Eddie!-“ you moaned “say it.” Eddie demanded squeezing your neck roughly “f-fuck! Only you can fuck me like this!” You moaned, feeling yourself near that edge before Eddie flipped you again. My lord you wanted to smack him, why couldn’t he just let you cum?
“You fucking brat” you growled “I was so fucking close” you added on grinding against him, watching him lick his lips as an idea sprung into your head. Pulling yourself off of him, his face fell in pure sorrow “w-what? Baby p-please!” He begged thinking you were ending the game, maybe he went to far, he never should’ve done this, as his chest started to tighten he felt your hand cup his cheek. “You’re okay..you’re gonna help mami” you whispered grabbing his hair, repositioning his hand, almost as soon as it came out of your mouth, Eddie visibly calmed down with his anxiety, holding your thighs to hold you steady. “Ready?..” you whispered “you don’t stop till I say.” You said before grabbing his chin “only outside. I’m not losing” you challenged, Eddie whined loudly, leaning his head up before you pulled his hair pushing it back down on the bed. “Stop it” you growled smacking his cheek gently before lowering yourself onto his mouth. His tongue attacked you like he was starving, licking up any wetness that had made its way out of your pussy, you could feel his tongue going over your clit as you grinded against it.
“Just like that baby!” You moaned arching your back, you could feel his nails digging into your skin before feeling his tongue push inside of you, you immediately curled in pleasure, tightening your grip on his hair as he flicked his tongue inside of you. “Ooh” you moaned loudly as you attempted to lift your hips off of his face but he held you down, as his eyes flipped towards your gaze you could see the darkness cloud back in and immediately you knew you were fucked, literally.
His tongue moved a lot faster, at a speed that even shocked you as his head bobbed slightly as he continued to eat you out “oh fuck! Fuck papi! Fuck!” You whined your voice going higher as you grinded against his face, his grip tightened on your legs, flipping you onto your back as he threw your legs over his shoulders. You whined trying to pull yourself off of him, his speed being way too much combined with your sensitivity “I-i can’t-“ you whimpered, Eddie pulled his mouth away from you, a dangerous glare on his face “you can take it. You’re my buena nina, you can take it. I wanna taste you, I want to see my slut make a complete mess” he growled before pulling your hips back down to continue his abuse on your pussy.
“Eddie!” You cried out, feeling his tongue flatten against your clit, along with three fingers pushing their way inside of you “fuck papi!” You cried out digging your nails into his shoulders “my little fucking slut” he spat curling his fingers, you whined, Eddie grunted pulling his fingers out before replacing it with his tongue again, taking your breath away.
“Cum for me princesa” he whispered, you clenched your teeth shaking your head “no?..we’ll see about that” he whispered against your thigh. “Papi got a present” he smirked reaching up towards his night stand pulling out a small pink device. Pressing a button the small object buzzed to life making you whine loudly, your legs visibly shaking with anticipation. “You want this, slut?” He asked, leaning in front of your pussy making you whimper nodding your head rapidly “want you to make me cum, please papi” you whimpered spreading your legs wider, almost like an invitation.
You almost screamed as he pressed the vibrator on your clit full power, shoving his tongue back inside of you, returning to his job of eating your pussy out. You bucked your hips quickly against Eddie’s face, almost ripping a hole in the sheets from how tight you were squeezing them. You could see Eddie grinding his hips into the mattress, that was almost enough to make you cum. You gasped, the knot in your stomach exploding out of nowhere against Eddie’s mouth, his tongue licking everything your body offered. You slowly pushed him onto his back, leaning forward to slip him into your mouth, letting his cock slip down your throat as you swallowed around him.
Eddie smirked moving your leg to the other side of his head pushing the vibrator inside of your pussy turning it on. The sensation took you by surprise, making you choke slightly around him, he groaned bucking his hip, using his other hand to guide your head pushing your head down repeatedly, making sure you didn’t gag too much. “Fuck yea baby, just like that. Take my cock, you’re so fucking good at it” he growled moving the vibrator in and out of you, you could feel the knot quickly forming again as you pressed back against it, swallowing around him again.
Eddie growled bucking his hips up, bottoming out down your throat, you swallowed around him making him tense, trying to shove his cock deeper inside of your throat if possible, he pushed the vibrator as deep as it would go inside of you. You moaned around him feeling his cum shoot down your throat, the feeling itself made you cum again, this time squirting on the toy and a little on his hand and mouth. “Fuck yes. Every night. From now on” you panted slowly falling onto your back next to him “deal” he panted
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