#warm weather colognes
abcdfed1234 · 1 year
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loveshotzz · 2 months
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bartender!eddie x fem!reader Eddie’s night.
🎵my man gives real love that’s why I call him killer, he’s not a ‘wham! bam! thank you ma’am!’ he’s a thriller.🎵
summary: After being stood up on a blind date, the cute bartender you’ve been ‘trying’ not to flirt with keeps you company.
word count: 12.6k
warnings: 90’s AU / 18 + no minors! /eddie is in his early 30’s, fingering, oral (f receiving), semi public smut (p in v), cream pie, dirty talk.
authors note: my love letter to the 90’s 💕after one month of brain storming and three weeks of writing here’s part one of Whatta Man! Eddie’s night. (This is a singular one shot. Steve’s night is part two, can you find the easter eggs for his night 😉)Thank you to my very talented friends who always brain storm with me and share ideas. This fun lil AU wouldn’t have happened with you. ily 💗 edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple
You didn’t want to go on this date. Not when your roommate set you up, and you certainly didn’t want to go when he picked The Foxy Lounge. But when Weather Man Mike predicted the first warm day after three months of bitter winter you’d take any excuse to wear your favorite dress. 
You’d been here before, always stumbling in after a night out with friends because they were the only 4am place in town. Those late nights turned to early mornings were more of a thing of the past now so when you got to the familiar chipped red door you didn’t recognize the bouncer standing outside. He has a head of honey colored hair that’s just long enough to run his fingers through. His toned frame sits pretty wrapped in a tight black tee and long legs covered in dark wash jeans tight enough for you to really have to focus on keeping  your eyes on his face. A freckle covered neck leads to a strong jaw and a chiseled nose. Leaning against the brick wall with his boots crossed at the ankles a toothpick twirls between his straight teeth.
The platform of your sneakers hitting the pavement as you come to a stop and the jingle of your power beads alerts him of your presence, hazel eyes going round like the moon in the sky. Straightening his posture he snatches the tooth pick out of his mouth, stuffing it in his back pocket. You swear you see a Tamagotchi tucked away as he clears his throat with a puff of his chest.
Your lips twitch, the forced deep baritone in his voice isn’t fooling you, and you wonder if it fooled anyone when the signature beep of a Tomogatchi pet needing to be fed goes off in his back pocket. He coughs to try to cover the noise while you quickly pull what he needs out of your cross body. Holding it out for him to examine you look up with a glossed smile matching the one in the picture. Narrowing his eyes, you catch a glimmer of playfulness when he clicks on his flashlight. 
Examining it like it could be a fake, you bite back a giggle while he turns it around giving it one more once over before handing it back to you with a soft chuckle.
“Funny, we have the same birthday.” His voice comes out normal this time, soft and friendly just like you thought.
A genuine smile lights up his face like the sign above your head, his boyish features coming out despite the stubble on his chin.
“Might as well call us the Olsen’s.” Throwing you a wink he pulls the gold handle to open the door for you. The sounds of Return of the Mack break through the hums of the street behind you. “Have fun tonight honey, be safe. If anyone bothers you, just come grab me okay? I’m steve.”
Your cheeks heat up at the endearment and you have to remind yourself that you’re here for a date. You catch a hint of his cologne when your shoulder brushes against his chest on your way in, the expensive scent making you dizzy when it hits your senses.
“I will, thanks Steve,”your words are shy when they come out, making his lips twitch in response. Nodding his head, you catch the tinge of pink on his skin before he closes the door with a small wave.
It's even louder inside with the drunk conversations battling for dominance against the music. Tugging nervously at the bottom of your dress you look around the bar for the vague description of this guy Craig your friend gave you. 
You scan the crowd a few times before your eyes catch the big brown ones of the bartender. The stool in front of him freeing itself at the same time your eyes connect, the corners of his plush lips pull up as he beckons you over with two heavily ringed fingers. The unruly dark auburn curls that hit just below his shoulders catch the low light behind the bar, the yellow glow softening up all his edges. 
Rocking back on your heels you pull the strap of your cross body closer, doing your best to collect yourself before you push through the crowd accepting his invitation. His smile widens, pulling up his stubble covered cheeks to reveal a set of perfect white teeth to you. The one you give him in return comes out a little shy as you plop down on the ripped vinyl that matches the red of the door.
Ink litters his arms disappearing under the frayed ends of his sleeves letting you know there was more under the tight fit of his worn faded black Metallica shirt. The two rips near the collar give you a glimpse of the chain wrapped around his neck. The scruff lining his jaw adds a few years from afar but from this close he looks your age. The silver hoop in his nose catches against the bright lighting under the bar like the rings adoring his fingers. Pulling out two empty shot glasses with a twirl he quickly fills them up with Jameson.
“This one’s on the house sweetheat, it’ll help make your date cuter.”  He winks with a sly grin, your stomach flutters with his full attention on you like this.
The glass is heavy in your grasp as you stare at the dark liquid with a faint grimace. His low chuckle catches your attention before the pop and hiss of the soda fills your ears. As if reading your mind he slides over a coke, letting you keep your pride by not having to ask for a chaser.
“How do you know I’m here for a date?” Raising a questioning brow, the sides of your lips twitch as you struggle to hold a straight face. “A girl can’t come to the bar alone on a Friday night?”
The chocolate in his eyes lights up at your playful banter, slinging a white towel over his shoulder he leans in, forearms pressing hard against the counter as he invades your space. The spice of his cologne and the burn of cigarette smoke joins with him and you find yourself sucking your bottom lip between your teeth.
“Are you telling me you’re available then?” Dropping his voice low enough to feel between your legs, you wished more than anything you had a different answer to give him.
The heaviness of his gaze has your cheeks warming, the intensity of the eye contact forcing your gaze away for a second as you clear your throat. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear you muster enough courage to meet his eyes again. 
“N-no unfortunately, you were right.” Exaggerating a heavy sigh, his confident demeanor never wavers despite his confirmed suspicions.
“Unfortunately is right, huh?” Winking, he pushes back leaving only the lingering scent of his cologne raising his shot in an offering of cheers. “To what could have been, baby.” 
A giggle bubbles past your lips when his fingers brush against yours meeting in the middle with a clink. Downing his shot like a professional, he’s left to watch the way you struggle with yours. Amusement is evident on his face while he watches the way your throat stays unwilling to open. Holding the alcohol in your mouth longer than anyone would want, it finally gives in letting the bitter liquid go down with a bite. Pushing the can of coke towards you with his knuckles, his laugh booms loud from his chest as you search for reprieve in the sweetness with desperation.
Chugging with abandon, you forget your surroundings for a second before your eyes meet his over the rim of the can and it’s almost enough to have you snort the rest of it all over yourself. 
Coming up for air you grumble a half assed “shut up” doing your best to try and fight the smile begging to spread across your lips as you wipe them with the back of your hand.
“Not a whiskey girl I take it?” Punctuating the ‘t’ harder than normal, his teasing falls on deaf ears when you get distracted at the way his thick fingers wrap around the shot glasses.
“Not a shot girl in general, I’d rather not taste the alcohol if I can help it.” Shrugging, you trace invisible patterns on the sticky quartz of the bar top with french tipped nails silently reminding yourself for the second time tonight you’re here for a date.
“So how’d you two meet?” He raises his voice so it comes out sickly sweet while a shaker and a lemon appears in his hands. Setting them down on top of the worn jagermeister logo that covers the drink mat he starts rolling the fruit against his palm.
“We haven’t met yet actually, a friend set us up.” 
Eddie’s movements freeze for a second, eyebrows furrowing together in a look of confusion as if that was the craziest thing that anyone had ever told him. He grabs the bottle of simple syrup adding more to what looked like it was going to be a sweet drink before he answers.
“Someone like you shouldn’t need to be set up, sweetheart.” He looks up at you from under the hood of his lashes quickly picking up on the effect he has on you.
He twirls another empty glass onto the counter top before he smashes the lid of the shaker on, not giving you a chance to respond he starts shaking it louder than you know is necessary. The bats tattooed on his arm dance across the muscles with the flex of every flick of his wrist.
“Really? Laying it on thick, huh?” Raising your voice enough to know he could hear you, he taunts you by cupping his free hand over his ear to make a show of pretending he can’t, mouthing a ‘sorry’ with a smirk. The laugh he earns from when he finally relents is the prettiest sound he thinks he’s ever heard. 
“Well I hope this ‘friend’ has a good vetting process. No less than three interviews or no dice.” He pours your drink with panache, like he’s putting on a show for you, like you’re sure he does with all the other girls.
Grabbing a straw he plugs one end with his index finger before he dips it into the slightly lighter liquid. The heat between your legs becomes almost unbearable when his lips wrap around the end tasting his creation with a low groan, his pink tongue pokes out to collect the sweetness left behind.
“I think, I think you’re gonna like this one. It’s an Eddie Munson original, I’m calling it "Wasting Love.” The roll of your eyes makes him bark out another laugh. The signs of the smoke you smell on him are more noticeable in this one’s rumble.
“I wonder what could have inspired it?” Biting your lip to hide your smile, you knew you shouldn’t be flirting with him while you waited for Craig, but you can’t help yourself. Besides, he was already ten minutes late.
“I think you know what inspired it sweetheart, I can tell you’re not just some pretty face.” Dimples poking through his cheeks, he finally takes notice of the glares from the customers filling up the bar. Everyone’s patience starting to wear thin while they waited for whatever this was to be over. 
“I gotta stop ignoring all the other people in here real quick, but I’ll be back for your review.” He throws you another wink and it has you shifting in your seat as he starts to walk away.
“Wait! I never opened a tab!” Calling after him as you reach for your purse, he tuts loudly, turning around to face you, continuing his path walking backwards. 
“You shouldn’t be paying for a thing tonight, gorgeous.” He waves his hand dismissively before his back is to you again giving his undivided attention to the bearded man who looked ready to murder the carefree metal head if he didn’t get his Bud Light in the next five seconds.
Trying not to get too caught up in someone that wasn’t your date you timidly bring the straw to your lips. Humming appreciatively when the sweetness hits your tastebuds you’re pleasantly surprised at how much you actually like it. Feeling bold enough to take a bigger gulp, you look around for Craig again. So lost in the little bubble you had been in with Eddie you didn’t realize how much more the bar had filled up since you arrived. A new kind of rowdy energy in the air — the low murmurs of conversation get loud enough to drown out Semi- Charmed Kinda Life.
Glancing down at your pink swatch watch, your date was now twenty minutes late. Turning around to check and make sure the lavender cross body you told him to look for was visible, you crane your neck around looking one last time. It’s easy to shrug off the sinking feeling of rejection when you turn back around to watch Eddie in his natural habitat. 
He moves behind the bar like he’s been doing it his whole life, like everything was muscle memory.  As if he could feel you staring he catches your gaze throwing you a smirk before he tosses a bottle of tequila in the air catching it with ease. Pouring it into four lined up shot glasses, the group of girls in front of him celebrating what looked like a bachelorette party with all their multi-colored hats and boas squealed with drunk delight. Your eyes hit the back of your skull in a hard roll when one of them bats their eyelashes at him with a hand on his arm.
Sucking down the rest of your drink, the slurping once you hit the ice is loud enough to annoy the guy next to you who shoots you a warning look over his shoulder. Mouthing an apology you push your empty glass away looking around the bar one more time. The guilt of flirting with Eddie starts to disappear when you look at your watch again and start coming to terms you were actually being stood up. Searching for his doe eyes again, your heart sinks when you find him this time.
Dimples in his cheeks again, he’s practically beaming at her. Their body language telling you this isn’t their first time meeting and how animated he is when he talks to her is like he’s known her for years. Gesturing wildly with his hands while she nods enthusiastically, something he says has her throwing her head back with a laugh loud enough you can hear it over the music. You huff through your nose, the sting of rejection sneaking its way back in. The reminder that he was just doing his job and you were here for a date, one that never showed up, slaps you right in the face.
Averting your gaze to spare whatever confidence you have left, your eyes find the bouncer at the front door. Inside the bar now with a hard glare set on his handsome face. His arms sit folded across his broad chest while his jaw clenches at the same time as the muscles in his shoulders flex. Steve looks pissed.
Interest piqued, you follow his line of sight despite it going in the direction of the bar you were trying to avoid. Somehow not surprised when your eyes land on her again, you notice Eddie has already busied himself with someone else. With his back towards both of you he fills two pints with Blue Moon, the uncomfortable look on her face couldn’t be missed. The greasy blonde hair on the man that was clearly invading her personal space told you he’d been drinking all day. The grimace on her pretty face says she could smell it on his breath too.
The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end when you see him grab onto her arm while trying to whisper in her ear. You feel yourself ready to stand up and help when she pushes him away, with the way the veins in her neck were flexing whatever she was saying to him wasn't nice. Shoving her hand in his face she storms towards the front door where Steve is waiting, looking seconds away from killing the man who followed her path out of the bar with a leer.
The scowl on her face softens instantly when she’s met with Steve opening the door, the glare on his face being replaced with a deep flush when you catch a “Thanks, Stevie” fall appreciatively from her lips.
Jumping at the sound of metal hitting wood, Eddie’s dimples show themselves only this time they are for you as he leans forward on his arms again, eyes flicking towards the spot next to you. He pulls himself even closer when he notices no one new occupying the stool, making you search for friction with the fat of your thighs. 
“Penny for your thoughts, beautiful?” Flashing you his perfect teeth for the second time tonight the bruise to your ego already starts to disappear.
“I drank it without gagging, didn’t I?” Crossing your arms on top of the bar it's your turn to lean into his space and you swear you hear his breath hitch at your new boldness.
Licking his lips, your eyes greedily follow the path of his tongue. His smile stretches across his face even more when he notices, making no effort to move- unwilling to back down from the silent standoff you’ve challenged him too.
“‘I’ll have you know I take that as a very high compliment coming from you.” His breath fans across your cheeks from this close, mint and whiskey hitting your nose when he huffs a laugh. “Where’s Prince Charming?”
“Turns out there was no Prince, just an ugly old toad.” Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you look up at him through half lidded eyes, “Good thing I didn’t kiss him, huh?”
A low rumble shakes in his chest as he dares to lean in even closer, the tips of your noses almost brushing while the bubble you’d lost yourselves in reappears.
“Yeah baby, you can’t give those out to just anybody, they gotta be for someone special.” His voice is low, dripping with the kind of want you’d never had directed at you before. His eyes take in every inch of your face from this close while you try to keep up with his smooth tongue.
“Got anyone in mind, Eddie?” Doing your best to match his tone, his brows pinch together at the way his name sounds coming out of your mouth taking one last look at your lips before meeting your eyes again.
“Yeah, I know a guy actually. He’s a bartender with a great head of hair.” Wiggling his eyebrows when you snort, the front door swings open, breaking you two apart as the girl from before commands the room like a record scratch, silencing the bar for the first time all night.
“Eddie! It’s bad, Steve needs you!” The sheer panic in her voice is enough for the jealous monster inside you to stay at bay as Eddie pushes back on his heels.
An irritated sigh escapes him while he mutters ‘not a-fucking-gain’ under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose before his eyes find yours. You jump a little when he grabs your hands, the warmth of his palms enveloping yours while he gives you a pleading look.
“Don’t - I mean, please don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back, I need to go save my buddy’s ass again. But I promise I’ll be right back, this conversation is too important to leave unfinished.” He flashes you that million dollar smile like chaos isn’t ensuing outside and all you can do is nod, signaling that you’ll stay put.
Hopping over the bar his loose fitting combat boots squeak over the counter top, the black jeans that were hidden from your sight somehow fit him even better than his shirt. Your gaze is shamelessly hungry as it follows him until he’s out the door. The scuffle outside leaking through the music with a blur of bodies outside. 
Too focused on the glimpse of Eddie’s towering frame stepping between the two guys to break up the fight, you don’t notice the person who walks through the unattended door until it shuts behind him with a thud. Ready to glare at whoever it is your eyes widen when you meet the ones belonging to who you can only assume is Craig. The burnt auburn hair he sports and the way he zero’s in on your purse confirms your suspicions. This was Craig, you're incredibly late and not even remotely as attractive as the bartender, date.
“Shit, shit, shit.” No matter how quickly you averted your stare, you knew it was too late, he saw you. Panic sets in while your brain goes a mile a minute trying to think a way out of this.
Looking around the bar for some sort of escape, the thought of ducking into the bathroom sounds like a winner but then the image of Eddie coming back and seeing you gone seeps into the forefront of your mind making you quickly toss that idea out the window. Turning to the people on either side of you who are too lost in their own conversations to notice your dilemma, you try to decide which one you could interrupt the most naturally. 
The couple on your right looks like they’re on a date going really well and the one on your left seems like two friends catching up. The tap on your shoulder is enough for you to make a split second decision, clearing your throat you spare the newly blossoming romance next you from your desperate antics, choosing to interrupt the friends who are reconnecting with a loud fake laugh.
“That’s when she told me- um excuse me do I know you?” Gruff and confused, the man closest to you looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads. First your loud slurping and now this? This plan was never going to work from the get-go.
Another persistent tap on your shoulder has you grasping for straws. You open your mouth to try to sell whatever this was one last time. 
“Umm excuse me?”  Craig’s voice comes out loud enough to cut you off and for the poor guy next to you to give you the final cold shoulder. Unable to ignore him any longer, you force yourself to turn around and face him head on. Kind of. 
Channeling your inner Alicia Silverstone you try to give him the best Clueless look you can muster and he returns it with an even more confused expression, clearing his throat.
“Hey, sorry I’m late. I’m Craig, Ariana’s friend. I think I’m supposed to be meeting you?” Shoving his hands in the pockets of his tan slacks, the maroon sweater he wears fits loosely over his thin frame, dirty black chucks on his feet, his look screams ‘I listen to Nirvana’.
“Umm, I think you have the wrong person? I wasn’t supposed to be meeting anyone here tonight.” It’s not believable in the slightest when the words leave your mouth, your less than confident delivery giving you away. The look on his face lets you know you’ve definitely been made
“Are you sure? I was told to look for the girl with a lavender purse.”  As if to prove his point he points to the exact one he’s talking about slung across your shoulder. He scoffs when you keep up with your charade, “I know I’m late but this is ridiculous.”
“A lot of girls have purple bags, Craig.” His name comes out dripping in venom, the need to get rid of him before Eddie’s return throwing any logic out the window. You needed to believe your own lie.
The sudden harshness has him raising his hands in defense, backing down a little under the daggers of your glare.
“Whoa, chill out, my bad. You just match the exact description I was given, that's all.”
Clenching your jaw in frustration because he just won’t give up, you try to hold your composure while your eyes flick towards the door in anticipation for his return.
“Well you’ve told me you were late twice already so she probably just left. Rude of you to keep her waiting honestly.” Narrowing your eyes at him, you know that he’s aware of exactly what you are doing but you don’t care anymore.
“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what happened, and not her being bitter I’m one measly hour late.” The way his words clip signal the rejection sinking in, a glare setting firm on his face.
It’s the stare down of the century before Eddie comes barging through the entrance with a loud huff and a clap of his hands. Cheeks red from yelling and hair slightly more wild than before. He checks to make sure you’re still exactly where he left you before he glances over to Craig for a split second not registering who he is. Hopping over the bar with another skid of his boots, he still manages to give you a lopsided grin when he gets to the other side. Hitting the top of the bar in a series of beats - he’s a ball of energy.
“Sorry to keep you waiting sweetheart, Steve’s lucky the girl he took a knuckle sandwich for has a first aid kit. Rick keeps saying he’s gonna get one but I have yet to see it. Want another cocktail?” Talking a mile a minute with the leftover adrenaline from the fight, he still doesn’t notice the way Craig watches the two of you until he catches how awkward you’re being. Eddie’s face hardens, the softness he was giving you disappearing. “Something I can help you with buddy?”
You don’t even have to look at Craig to know he’s puffing out his chest with a point of his chin addressing Eddie.
“Actually pal, maybe you can.” His tone makes Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, a tested smile spreading over his lips while he lets Craig continue. “I was supposed to meet someone here for a blind date, I was told to look for a girl with a lavender purse exactly like this one. You haven't seen another girl with this exact same bag have you?” 
Eddie’s wide eyes meet yours, amusement filling the specks of golden brown as he picks up on exactly what’s happening. The corners of his lips twitch before he nods his head licking his bottom lip holding your gaze long enough to make you squirm before bringing his attention back to Craig with a low whistle.
“Oh yeah, I remember that hottie, man. It’s a shame you were late, she took off with this dude she met waiting for you. She didn’t stand a chance, though, honestly. I know the guy, he’s too smooth for his own good. Pretty good looking too. Can’t be leaving your girl unattended around him. Probably wouldn’t have worked out between you two anyway.” Eddie catches the roll of your eyes at his self indulgent story as you cover your mouth with the palm of your hand to hide your face splitting grin.
“Why don’t you walk away with some dignity. What’s that saying? There’s always more fish in the sea or some shit.” Eddie adds more salt to the wound, finally breaking Craig enough to give up.
“Whatever you say man, this bar is fuckin’ lame anyway. Who wants to drink to Third Eye Blind.” Grumbling his insults as he slinks away, he takes one last look at you and Eddie before his final exit with a flip of his middle finger.
Eddie’s stare is hot on your face, while you bashfully avoid his gaze keeping your eyes lingering on the door. When you finally dare to meet his eyes the shit eating grin on his face makes you groan, the buzz of your drink pulling a giggle out of you. 
“Eddie, don’t —“
“Well, well, aren’t you just a little heartbreaker, huh?” His teasing only makes your cheeks grow hotter as you try to hide your face from his view.
“Don’t you need to go attend to all the customers you left?” Your words come out muffled from behind your hands as you slowly pull them down just enough to uncover the fake glare you were sending his way.
“I’ve got my favorite one right here.” Voice dropping low with a smirk, he was right, you didn’t stand a chance.
“I haven’t paid for a single thing, you refused my money if you remember.” Bringing your hands down to fully come out of hiding, he bites his bottom lip when he can take in your features again.
“It’s no good here, baby, I could actually get arrested if I take it and then how would I be able to take you out to get pancakes after my shift if I’m behind bars?” Bringing his hands together in mock shackles and a pout, the chain wrapped around his wrist catches your eyes for the first time.
“You’re takin’ me to get pancakes?” Flirting like a love sick teenager, you even start to kick your feet under the bar.
“It’s the least I can do since you’re my fill in bouncer for the rest of the night.” Smirking, he nods his head to the man at the opposite end of the bar flagging him down with a twenty dollar bill. His eyes sparkling with something new now that he had you.
“Me? A Bouncer? I’m not intimidating in the slightest!” Your cheeks hurt from how hard you smile at his retreating form, the game of ‘playing hard to get’ becoming a thing of the past now.
“Sorry, you owe me, heartbreaker.” He shrugs like it’s out of his control before flashing you the same lopsided grin leaving you a mess of nerves from getting to spend the night with him.
The hours till close go by faster than you anticipate with Eddie topping off your drink any time you ask, the buzz from the alcohol is just enough to handle the growing intensity of his flirting. Now that the only obstacle in the way of each other was time, he was relentless.
Enjoying the game of chicken the two of you had started unconsciously playing, you stop noticing the clock. Every six customers earns you five —sometimes ten minutes of his time and he makes sure to use every second of those breaks as an excuse to lean in close, whispering in your ear, holding your face close every time you talk. He was getting off on the way he could make you shift in your seat and hide your bottom lip between your teeth when he got close enough for his lips to brush against your ear. Your fingers find excuses to wrap around his wrist when he invades your space, playing with his chain, you keep him close making sure to tilt your head just enough for him to catch a glimpse down your neck into the low cut of your dress.
The small hand on the clock above the door hits the three and it’s not until his breaks start getting longer and your touches are able to get a little bolder that you notice the murmur of voices over the music disappears. The few stranglers left sipping their last drinks of the evening are paying the two of you no mind despite the way he’s tucking your hair out of his way to trace the shell of your ear with the tip of his nose.
The realization that you’re finally about to be alone with him brings your nerves to a head and the need to check yourself over in the bathroom mirror becomes urgent. The flick of his tongue along your earlobe distracts you for a second as your head nudges against his when it tickles making a giggle slip past your lips.
“I gotta go to the bathroom, Eddie.” You inhale the scent of pine lingering in his shampoo, giving him one last nudge with your nose before hopping off the stool. He gives you his best puppy eyes as you get up to leave, pushing out his bottom lip when you tug your dress down.
“Please, I’ll be like three minutes.” You roll your eyes at him but the smile that lights up your face tells him you’re eating it up.
“I’ll be counting every second you're gone, baby.” Holding his hands over his heart for dramatic effect the man at the end of the bar snorts loudly ruining the moment. He earns an annoyed glare from the bartender, “Better hurry up and finish that shit old man, it’s closing time.” 
You hear him grunt in response to Eddie’s rude reminder before disappearing into the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom. Stickers and writing with permanent marker cover every inch of the dark crimson walls. The doors of the black stalls barely hang from their hinges, dents from many reckless drunk nights at The Foxy Lounge punch random spots into the metal. The bottom of your sneakers stick to the floor with every step to the mirror where more stickers and black scribbles line the surface including a girl named Leigh’s phone number with the note ‘for a good time call’ attached at the end leaving just enough room to see your face.
The space buns on top of your head are messy from Eddie nuzzling his beard into your hair all night. You try to salvage what was left of them by tightening the knots a little more before deciding it's a lost cause. He was probably just going to mess them up more anyway. The thought of Eddie’s hands being free to touch you in every way you’ve wanted all night has you taking a deep breath while you hold your own eyes in the mirror.
“It’s happening, you’re gonna have sex with him. You’re gonna fuck the super hot bartender who flirts like it’s his second language tonight and you’re gonna be confident about it okay? You hear me?” Pointing to yourself in the mirror, the determination in your stare is enough for your tipsy pep talk to work its magic.
Taking one last look at yourself with a nod of your head you pull open the bathroom door ready to take on the rest of the night. Only to stop in your tracks when you notice the stool that was occupied is now empty and every inch of Eddie is also in full view from where he stands in front of the jukebox. Your eyes are insatiable taking in his tall frame like this for the first time all night. 
You notice the giant chain that hangs from his belt loop this time, and there’s even more rips in his jeans than before giving you a peek at the pale skin hidden underneath. His shoulder blades move under the thin fabric of his shirt when he clicks his choice on the machine. Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer spills out from the speakers of the bar as he turns on his heels, the smirk that plays on his lips dares you to catch the hint with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
“Very subtle.” Crossing your arms as if to act immune to his charms, you know he sees right through your facade but he plays along anyway raising his big hands up in the air in mock surrender.
“It’s just one of my favorite songs, I don’t know what kinda ideas you got going on in that pretty little head of yours.” He takes a few more steps towards you slowly closing the gap, daring to be closer to you than he had been all night without a wooden bar separating you.
“Interesting, I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Sixpence fan.” Raising your eyebrow, you have to look up at him when he finally takes the last few steps to stand in front of you. 
“Why? Cause I’m such a tough guy?” His grin grows wider when he looks down at you catching the roll of your eyes while you uncross your arms opening your body up to him with a laugh. 
“I can’t stand you.” Your swat is flirtatious with your palm hitting his chest. He’s quick to catch it, using your hand as leverage to pull you closer, biting back his groan when a breathy gasp slips past your lips when he tucks you into chest. First your giggle and now this? He just knew you were going to sound so pretty falling apart for him.
“I think Craig would call that bluff sweetheart.” He gives you a minute to let his words sink in, throwing his head back with a loud laugh when you huff at him embarrassed. “I’m teasing, I’m teasing. He needed to be dumped, a girl like you deserves someone that's gonna show up when they’re supposed to.”
The sweetness of his words has you melt against him, the playful pull from before surrendering to his touch and you swear there’s hearts in your eyes from the way he looks down at you after saying something like that. 
“Thanks for tonight Eddie,” your voice is small when it comes out laced with adoration, and it’s his turn to get bashful making your favorite dimples come out again.
“No problem sweetheart, honestly it’s my fuckin’ lucky night.” Pulling your knuckles to his lips, he places a gentle kiss to the skin stretched over them before letting your hand drop, noting the disappointment on your face that you’re quick to cover up. 
“Wanna get some fresh air while I smoke before I close this place down?” 
Eddie somehow looks even better under the twinkling stars and pink fluorescent lights of The Foxy Lounge sign. The low hum of the electricity filling your ears as you lean against the brick of the building. His eyes are brighter out here, catching them with your own when he looks at you over the end of his cigarette.
He winks when you meet his pointed gaze, the flame of his lighter casting shadows that dance across the strong lines of his jaw, the orange glow highlighting the stubble that covers it. Batting your lashes at him, you push your hips off the wall playfully while he keeps his eyes on you through his entire first drag, only breaking contact for the split second he needs to blow the smoke he inhaled away from you. 
“Don’t look at me like that.” His words come out like a warning before he takes another hit.
“How am I looking at you Eddie?” Biting your lip to hide your smile, you make sure to say his name extra sweet just how you figured out he likes. He shakes his head with a low chuckle blowing more smoke into the clear night sky. 
Despite only taking two drags, he flicks the barely smoked cigarette to the side before closing the distance with a few steps leaving him crowding you against the building. Your chest brushes against his with every shallow breath. Getting lost in the darkening amber inside his eyes, the calloused tips of his fingers catch against the soft skin of your chin. The pad of his thumb pulling the velvet of your bottom lip from between your teeth.
“Like you want me to kiss you.”
Ducking his head down he nudges your nose with his, the heat of his breath fanning against your open mouth. His eyes go from yours back down to your glossed lips silently begging for your permission.
“I think it was you that was hinting at kissing me earlier.” Pushing up on your tiptoes, you smile against him when your lips just barely touch. 
“Oh? You think that’s what I was doing hmm?” Asking the question he already knows the answer to, his tongue licks against your top lip as your hands find the material of his shirt, fisting as much of it as you can before yanking him down to collect his lips with an eager mouth, giving up winning whatever game this was. 
You swallow his moan when your tongues meet in the middle battling for dominance, teeth scraping, you taste the few puffs of tobacco still lingering on his taste buds as his muscle massages against yours. Sliding his knee between your thighs, he smiles smug into the kiss when your hips search for friction against the denim.
He breaks away from your mouth long enough to start trailing wet kisses down your jaw, the rough hair on his chin rubbing your skin raw as he starts nipping and sucking bruises along your neck. Biting hard enough at your pulse point to have to soothe it with his tongue after the mewls he pulls from you are enough to drive him insane.
Your fingers tangle into the curls at the nape of his neck, giving his roots a pull while you turn your head, opening more of yourself to him. Taking your silent invitation he nips at the dip of your collar bone before lifting his head to press his forehead to yours. 
“I gotta close up baby, but then…”rubbing his hands up your curves with a low groan he squeezes at the plush of your hips before finishing his sentence, “I think I promised you pancakes.”
Nodding your head because words are stuck at the tip of your tongue, he grabs your cheeks with a strong grip, smushing your lips together before stealing one last kiss.
Eddie doesn’t give you the attention you’ve grown accustomed to all night when he starts the process of actually cleaning the bar. Your body still buzzes like a live wire from the drinks and the kiss outside. He’d been counting his tips with his back to you for the last ten minutes and you were growing impatient for more of him. You needed it. 
Counting the last bill he finally turns around and your thighs press together when you get to see his face again. Shifting in your seat when his eyes barely meet yours, he makes his way to the other end of the bar. Pushing yourself up to lean forward with puckered lips, he ignores your advances passing by without so much as a glance in your direction. Huffing when you plop back in your seat, he flips the knob starting to wash his hands in the mini sink with his back to you again. Your foot taps against the metal of the stool as you watch him grab the scratched up red bucket hanging below and a fresh rag quickly replacing his hands with it to fill up.
You wonder if he can feel your stare when he adds the soap, taking his time while he spins the rag in the steaming water, he starts ringing it out. Arms flexing and suds spilling over his knuckles, you were gonna lose your mind if you didn’t get your hands on him soon. 
He makes big swipes as he starts working his way towards you, keeping his eyes so focused on his task you’d think you were invisible if it wasn’t for the smirk that was getting impossible for him to hide. It only grows bigger when he stops in front of you, adding a low hum to his charade purposely wiping around the outline of your hands that were splayed out on the counter ready to push yourself up again. 
“Eddie - c’mon!”  
You’d be embarrassed if it wasn’t for the laugh that falls easy from his chest when he finally looks at you. His face softens and his eyes darken when he catches your angry pout, your fingers are quick to find his free ones making him tsk at you but he doesn’t pull away.
“My hands are wet baby.” He knew you didn’t care and the teeth showing in his wide grin told you he didn’t either.
Giving into your persistence like it hasn’t been a fight to keep his hands to himself this whole time, he leans forward brushing his nose with yours before nudging it against your cheek so your lips just barely touch. When you go to close the space he pulls back just enough to tease, a small whine escaping you at his games.
“What’s got you so needy, huh?” His words are whispered as he presses with the slightest pressure before pulling back again. “I didn’t kiss you good enough outside, you need more?”
“Please.” Your cheeks burn when you hear how your voice sounds, but his grip on your fingers tighten and a low moan breaks through his front at how desperate you sound just for a kiss.
“Gotta give my girl what she needs.” Your brain gets stuck on the words ‘my girl’ taking you a minute to realize he was finally giving you what you want.
It’s slower than outside, he’s taking his time with you this time. Untangling his fingers from yours, his hand comes up to wrap around the side of your neck. The water feels good on your skin as the pad of his thumb starts rubbing soft lines under your jaw while his tongue swipes at your bottom lip looking for more. You don’t give into his advances on purpose, keeping your mouth closed to get him back for all his teasing you feel his smile grow against your own.
Expecting him to stop and surrender, he only doubles down. Catching your top lip with his bottom, he pulls away just enough for you to open your eyes. God, you wished you kept them closed. The brightness from outside had turned them into nothing but black leaving no trace of the specks of brown from before. The knowledge that he was just as affected by all of this as you sends you reeling. Toes curling inside your sneakers.
“Whining over here for me to give you what you want, and here I am baby, and you’re playing hard to get.” Nipping at your bottom lip he meets your heavy lidded gaze again, “Gonna let me give you what you want?”
He barely lets you finish nodding before he’s on you, the hunger from outside coming back as he leans over the bar to deepen the kiss like you’d been begging him for. Opening your mouth for him without hesitation when he asks for permission again your tongues meet lazily, exploring each other like you didn’t get a chance to before. Pushing up again eager to get more of him he pulls back leaving you breathless with spit slick lips.
Despite the way his chest heaves trying to catch his breath, he does his best to play it cool, smirking when you have no shame chasing for more.
“I gotta finish closing up.” He gives you one more chaste kiss before he starts wiping the rest of the counter down. 
Jutting out your bottom lip into a pout, he laughs, throwing out a ‘you’ll survive five minutes baby.’
You leave him alone doing your best not to distract him, despite how much your fingers itch to have him close again. Grabbing the money from the register and the receipts for the night he disappears back into what you could only assume was Rick’s office. When he pops back out he looks a little more relaxed.
“Just gotta wipe the bottles down and then I’m getting the prettiest girl the best pancakes in town.” Clapping his hands together with a rub of his palms, he grabs another rag.
You were starting to hate pancakes. Not that you didn’t want them, you just wanted him more.
“Hey Eddie?” Trying to hide your ulterior motives in the sweetness of your voice, his eyes meet yours almost instantly and they narrow just as quick.
“Yes, sweetheart?” Setting the rag down he leans forward with his palms on the bar he gives you his undivided attention. An intimidation tactic. Unable to help yourself, your eyes trace up the ink covering his arms.
“Teach me how to make that drink?” Looking up at him from under your lashes, you see something flash across his face, fingertips digging into the countertop after the question leaves your mouth.
“Wasting Love?” 
“I mean, I wouldn’t call it that now, would you?” Laying it on thick, a slow smile spreads across his face. He saw what you were doing and he was going to fall into your trap willingly.
“Why don’t you come back here then, we’ll make our own.” His voice comes out low, his pupils taking over all the brown, pretty white teeth baring themselves at you.
His gaze is predatory when he watches you jump from the stool, the exaggerated sway of your hips keeps his eyes trained on the curve of your waist as you make your way into his space for the first time all night. Leaning against the back counter, his legs are spread wide leaving little to the imagination on how worked up you had him. His eyebrows raise when he sees the automatic press of your thighs at the sight. It wasn’t fair, you were trying to seduce him, not the other way around. He wasn’t even trying.
As if on cue the jukebox that had been left to play all night clicks, Ginuwine’s Pony pouring out of the speakers as he licks his lips unashamed at the way he’s drinking all of you in like this.
“Gonna teach me how to make something sweet, Eddie?” Trailing a finger along the bar while you close the distance, you drag out the ‘e’ at the end of his name just enough to get him to groan.
His hands grab your waist squeezing just hard enough to feel his strength before using it to pull you flush against him. The material of your dress doing nothing to hide how hard he is pressed into your ass. His lips trace the shell of your ear, the heat of his breath tickling your neck as you push back into him searching for more. The stubble on his face rubs rough against the soft skin of your cheek as he punctuates each word with a roll of his hips.
“The sweetest, baby.” 
You bite back your moan when his nose trails up your neck, his lips just barely grazing the warmth of your flesh before they settle back against your ear. You hold onto the wood of the bar in front of you when he hums low, feeling it deep in your core. His calloused fingers start a path up the bare skin of your thigh hiking up your dress when they catch the hem.
“Tell me,” your eyes close when his nose is pressed to your temple as he speaks, “Do you like cherries, baby?” His tongue catches your earlobe sucking it into his mouth, grazing it between his teeth when he lets it back out.
Your knees almost buckle at how good everything feels, the slow rock of his hips never stopping as he plucks at the lace trim of your underwear. 
“Y- yeah, I love cherries,” you whimper when his palms lay flat on the outside of your thighs, the cool metal of his rings biting into your skin when he squeezes at the fat working his way back up.
“Of course you do, pretty.” His thumbs hook the sides of your underwear, “You’re just so sweet all the time, huh?” Despite the need for friction, you spread your legs for him wondering if he can hear the way your lips pull apart sticky, arousal coating the inside of your thighs.
He chuckles soft in your ear praising you with a ‘so sweet’ before giving them a tug, letting the red lace fall to the floor. Keeping his hands on your hips, he presses himself against you hard enough to have the heels of your sneakers pick up off the ground. A low ‘fuck’ slipping out from under his breath when you whine a little.
“Red lace? Was Kurt gonna get lucky or was this just a ploy to get me all along, sweetheart?” Your cheeks burn at his question, his low chuckle tickling your ear when he hears you huff out an annoyed breath. “‘Cause if that’s the case all you would’ve had to do is walk through that door on any given night.”
He grinds himself against you one more time, but you can really feel him this time and it makes your legs shake.
“Are we gonna make this drink or do you wanna keep talking about Craig?”  The shake of your voice doesn’t go unnoticed despite trying to be sharp with him but the grip on your waist still tightens at the mention of the other man’s name
“Sure we can, if that’s really what you wanna do.” His words taunt you but with one hand holding you against him the other flips a clean cocktail glass onto the bar top with ease, like he wasn’t rock hard digging into your back.
Reaching around, his hand trails up the front of your thigh sending goosebumps across your heated skin. A shiver runs down your spine when he dares to dip between your legs inching his way towards where you want him most.
“We better not mix liquors so why don’t you be a good girl and grab the whiskey for me.” His lips brush against your ear with every word, his hand never faltering on their path even when his fingertips meet your slick folds. Feather light, he traces along your slit, not daring to break the barrier yet. Brain hazy with want you don’t even comprehend what bottle you reach for, blindly grabbing for whatever was in front of you.
“That is tequila, sweetheart. Tsk, tsk, tsk are you even listening to what I’m saying? Or are you too…” Before he finishes his sentence he pushes his index finger past your entrance, your warm walls wrapping tight around his digit, “…distracted?”
Your head lulls back against his chest, your eyes closing when he pushes two knuckles deeper. Your needy whimper makes him kick up again making you grind your ass against him in response. Licking your lips, you try to collect yourself only chasing for more of his finger once. 
“N-no, I can do it.”  Determined to prove him wrong, you focus just long enough to grab the Jameson bottle, “What’s next?”
He hums in approval while his smile grows against your skin. Deciding to indulge in your stubborn game still, he curves his finger enough just to make you gasp his name.
“Are we keeping this simple, or do you want something a little more—” Adding a second finger, you stretch easily for him now, dripping down his hand, “Complicated?” 
You shudder, a moan slipping past your lips while your grip on the bottle tightens so much you're scared it’ll shatter. Fuck, you gotta keep it …
“S- simple - oh.” His thumb finds your clit applying just enough pressure to have your mouth fall open and your brows to knit together, and just as quick as he’s there, he’s gone. 
Pulling himself free, he tries his best to ignore the way your pussy tries to suck him back in, your body begging him for more. You whimper at the loss, your eyes opening to remind you where you are.
“I’m gonna need both hands to do this, baby.” His fingers shine with your slick when he wiggles them for show, stepping back just enough for you to see the grin on his face but not enough to get out of your personal space. 
Grabbing his wrist, his eyes go dark when he realizes what you’re about to do. Gaze turning half lidded when your mouth opens, huffing out a deep breath when your tongue flattens against the pads of the two fingers that were just buried inside of you. Wrapping your lips around them, your arousal is tangy sweet hitting your taste buds.
Hollowing your cheeks as you suck them clean, you watch the confidence drain from his face, eyes rolling in the back of his head at the sight. The blunt ends of his nails dig through the soft material of your dress and he starts rutting into you with a little more force when you slide your tongue between each knuckle.
“Jesus christ,” his voice is strangled, words coming out through gritted teeth when you let him go with a loud pop.
“Now you can use both hands,” you say innocently, like you didn’t just suck them clean. You let his fingers tug at your bottom lip before dropping his wrist.
He fists a handful of your dress, a low growl rumbling from his chest getting a taste of his own medicine. Licking his lips, his eyes narrow at you before his teeth start to show, mischievous in the low light.
“Well if we want this drink cold, we need to fill this shaker with ice.” Just like the glass, he flips it on the counter one hand never leaving your waist despite his claim. 
Pressing his lips to your ear again, he makes sure to let his breath linger a little before he talks, enjoying the goosebumps that appear from such a simple touch.
“Fill it up for me, baby?” Your thighs clench at the deep rasp in his voice, both of his hands finding a home spread out on your thighs.
Nodding your head you slide open the silver metal door of the ice chest below you, bending over more than you needed to to scoop it up into the shaker. He groans loud when you press into him like this, his fingers making quick work to flip the back of your dress up. 
“Look at you, so fucking messy for me and I’ve barely touched you.” Grabbing a handful of your ass, he ruts into you, the rough denim hitting your clit in a way that has you moaning his name.
He laughs quietly at your neediness flipping your dress back down when you straighten out. Chests heaving in time with the other, neither one of you was ready to back down. Not yet.
“Might need to unzip those pants.” Looking over your shoulder at him you fake a pout, “Feeling a little strained back there handsome.”
Smugness dripping from the smile on your face, he raises his eyebrows at you in a challenge. 
“Since you wanted something simple sweetheart, we just need two more things.” One hand snakes its way back between your legs, squeezing at the inside of your thigh before he lets you go for the first time since you set foot behind the bar.
Craning your neck so you could follow him, you find him bent down grabbing lemon juice from the mini fridge under the shorter back counter. Shutting the door with his foot when he stands up, he throws a wink your way when he grabs the simple syrup.
Setting the bottles in front of you he steals a quick kiss that leaves you wanting more before he grabs the small tub of cherries from the fridge he forgot his first go around.
“Okay, so you’re gonna grab the Jameson, and I want you to pour it out to the count of three for me then cut it off.” He returns to his place behind you, his large hand swallowing yours when it shadows your movements.
Your pour is shaky when he counts low in your ear, nuzzling his nose in your hair calling you a good girl after each successful addition to the simple concoction.
“Alright, now you’re gonna shake it as hard as you can angel.” His hands squeeze your hips for encouragement.
Doing as he says he pulls you against him even harder when your arms start to go wild. Your chest bounces with each movement making you giggle and you almost don’t hear the hitch in his breath at the sight. 
He helps you by putting the strainer over the rim of the glass when you’re ready to pour. Mumbling soft words of praise while he nibbles at your ear lobe. The drink is much lighter than the one you had all night, the dark orange turning lemon as the white foam fizzed on top.
“I think I could take your job.” You smirk reaching for the cherries to top it all off. 
“You think you could take my job?” He snorts incredulous, watching you unwrap the plastic wrap from the small tub dropping three cherries into the already very sweet cocktail.
“Absolutely.” Grinning while ignoring his stare you reach for another cherry, “No doubt in my mind.” You grab the fruit between your teeth, finally meeting his eyes as you pull the stem, relishing in the burst of sugar and grenadine that erupts against your tongue.
“Tough luck princess, unless you know how to tie that cherry stem in a knot with your teeth, no bar in this town is gonna touch you.” Grabbing his own cherry, he dangles it in front of your frowning mouth for you to bite. Obliging him with it bumps your bottom lip you tug gently, taking the fruit before chewing slowly while he sucks the stem once before it disappears in his mouth.
“I’m calling your bluff now. No one knows how to actually do that.” Daring him to prove you wrong he mutters a ‘watch me’ between his working teeth.
You don’t lose focus on the way his hand on your waist starts to wander, the blunt ends of his nails scratching against the fat of your thigh while his tongue ties the stem like it’s easy. Jaw flexing with each twist of his tongue before he pushes it out to show you, a pleased look on his face when the small knot in the middle comes out perfectly placed. 
Swiping it off his tongue with the fingers that were inside you minutes ago, you wonder if he can still taste you when he sets it next to your drink satisfied by the way your jaw drops.
“How do you think I got this job? I’m more than just a cute face.” The touch of his hands grows bolder when they start working their way up your dress, a thickness in the air that wasn’t there before filling your lungs.
“That’s quite the skill set you have there Mr. Munson,” your giggle is breathless, your eyes going from his down to his lips as you try to play it off.  
“I can do more than that with my tongue sweetheart, if you wanna find out.” His nose nudges against yours, the smirk on his face making you sweat when his fingers trace up your wet folds again.
Surrendering instantly, you forget all about the drink the two of you made nodding without hesitation the desperation for him all night finally taking over.
“Yeah?” His voice breaks when his thick fingers push into your entrance again feeling just how worked up all his teasing had you.
“Please - Eddie,” the pad of his thumb finds your clit again making you beg, “Fuck.”
“Asking me so sweet, how could I say no to you?” Murmuring against your lips, he finally gives in and kisses you. Wet and sloppy he only does it long enough to take your breath away before dropping to his knees.
His big hands on your hips angle you to face forward, flipping your dress up over your ass again. The air of the bar is still hot against your folds, arousal dripping down your thighs, you’re fully exposed to him now. You hear him suck the skin of his teeth at the sight, a ringed hand coming down just hard enough on your right cheek to make it jiggle before both hands palm the fat.
“I can’t believe you were gonna let anybody else but me have this pussy. Should be a punishable offense.” Pulling your cheeks apart to expose more of you to his hungry eyes, he pushes at the small of your back signaling for you to bend over more for him.
He moans loud enough to make you jump when you listen to his command, even you can hear the sound of your lips pulling apart for him. 
“All this for me, baby, fuck, you spoil me.” He wastes no time burying his face between your folds, his talented tongue collecting your juices before finding your clit. The rough hair on his chin rubbing your sensitive skin raw as he shakes his head from side to side. 
Squeezing your ass to pull you closer to his face when you try to run away, he sucks your bundle of nerves harder when he gets you back to where he wants you, dipping his nose into your entrance every time.
He does the motions he would do when he ties the cherry stem into a knot against your clit, a strangled moan ripping from your throat when he does it again.
Your hands find purchase on the top of the bar, eyes closed tight while you see white behind your lids. Your nails dig into the wood when his tongue flattens, the lewd squelching of your arousal filling your ears when he pushes his face so deep between your legs you aren’t sure if he can even breathe. The moan that rumbles through his chest and vibrates to your core tells you he doesn’t care. Wrapping his lips tight around your clit he sucks even harder, not caring when your legs start to shake from overstimulation. 
“Eddie, Eddie, I’m gonna - fuck!” His name comes out long and drawn out when you fall apart on his tongue. Relentless, his teasing never stops, his hands holding you up while your body starts to shake. Humming low in satisfaction against your cunt.
“I n- need, I need…” willing your eyes to open, your vision’s blurry from how hard he made you cum. Pulling away with a loud smack of his lips, he palms your ass cheeks before craning his neck to try and get a good look at you.
“What do you need, baby?” He nips at the curve of your right cheek before pressing his face to it, dazed from getting what he’s wanted all night completely content.
“I just, I just need you to fuck me,” you don’t recognize the choke in your voice when you whine for him. Whine for more.
“Jesus christ.” His words tickle against your skin when he groans, kneading the soft flesh of your ass one more time before standing up. 
His hands are on your hips before you can fully register the change in position, spinning you around and lifting you up he sets you on top of the counter behind the bar. The one where drinks aren’t served and the one that’s low enough for Eddie to slot himself perfectly between your legs. 
Eyes blown black while his beard and nose ring shine with your slick, his lips part - swollen and pink from pulling your first orgasm out of you. Bangs clinging to his forehead, his hair is a wild mess on top of his head from your hands. The confident air about him is gone, replaced with nothing but the need to have you. Snapping out of your daze, you’re quick to find the metal of his belt buckle.
His forehead presses to yours, while he watches the way your dainty fingers work the leather out through the loop. The white tips of your nails catch his eye when you undo the button of his jeans and his cock twitches at the thought of them pumping him for all he’s worth.
He hisses when you push the denim down his hips, his hard dick springing out to smack against his shirt that you immediately wish wasn’t there. Precum leaks from the angry looking pink tip while your hands fist the hem of the worn cotton, silently begging him to get rid of it. The big vein that follows the curve of his length makes your mouth water as he obliges your pleas, ripping his shirt off and throwing it somewhere you’d have to find later. 
You’re able to really take all of him in like this, his chest is heaving covered with just as many tattoos as the rest of him, the silver chain you’d peeped earlier hanging right in the dip between his pecs. Your eyes follow the dark patch of hair that leads to his cock, long with the kind of girth that you know is going to be a stretch, a strangled whine bubbles out of you at the sight while your thighs spread begging for him.
“God, I want you so bad,” you whine wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull him even closer giving into your animalistic instincts. 
“I know baby, me fuckin’ too.” He pumps his cock a few times groaning loud, squeezing hard at the base before pressing the head between your dripping lips. Mesmerized at how they wrap around his tip, his precum mixes messy with your arousal making lewd noises as he sweeps it through your folds.
Body shaking every time he hits your clit, you finally hook your ankles growing impatient when he teases your entrance.
“Fuck. Me.” You get out through gritted teeth, the lopsided grin he’d been giving you all night turns cocky when he pushes the tip in, your head lulls back at the invasion, the silk of your walls desperate to start sucking him deeper.
“Not so sweet now are you, huh?” Pushing himself all the way in, his rough thatch of pubic hair hits your clit when he bottoms out. His confidence falters for a second when a deep moan rips through his chest at the feeling. “So fuckin’ tight baby - shit.”
Your nails dig half crescent moons into his inked skin while you adjust to his size, his nose skimming against your cheek while he whispers how good you take him when your walls start to milk him, your body letting him know it was okay to finally move.
“Feel so good, Eddie, fuck - so good.” Your hips start a slow rock, feeling every ridge and curve of him. Your dress sits rucked up at your waist giving a perfect view of the way you take him, and it’s even better than what his imagination had come up with all night. 
He lets you use him for a minute, big hands resting on your waist — content with just watching the way you coat his cock with everything you have left over for him from the first time he made you cum. 
“That feels good, huh?” Cooing at the way your brows knit together and your mouth falls open, he picks up the pace, taking control. 
Pulling you all the way to the edge, his strokes get deeper, the tip of him hitting the spot that you know Craig would have never found. He pulls his cock out half way, relishing how your velvet walls try to keep him in place, he holds his composure before pushing back in, filling you to the brim. Addicted to the way it makes you gasp his name and arch your back, your body asks him for more when you’re too cock drunk to get the words out.
The straps of your dress start slipping down your shoulders with every thrust, your breasts bouncing just begging for his attention. His cock twitches inside you, it's almost too much. Greedy for more despite fighting the urge to cum, he tugs the front of your dress down to reveal a matching bra to the panties on the floor. Hips stuttering for a moment he growls at the reminder of your date before tugging the lace down, your nipple pebbling instantly for him before he takes it in the heat of his mouth. 
Pushing yourself closer, needing more, your hands find their way to bury themselves in his curls, holding him close. You needed him close. His tongue flicks at your sensitive bud and it makes you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. Your hips finding a way to match his strokes, reigniting the flames deep in your gut. God, he was gonna make you cum again.
He grunts around your breast, spit dripping down your soft skin from his ministrations while the snap of his hips start to get harsher and you know he’s nearing his end. He lets your nipple go with a loud pop before his hand comes up to grip your chin, his lips finding yours in a frantic mess of teeth and battling tongues.
The wood creaks underneath you from the force of his thrusts and the bounce of your ass to meet them. Mouths tangled, you swallow each other's ragged breaths, both of you desperately searching for your end when his fingers find your clit. Rubbing circles with just enough pressure to have your body start to shake against his, he nips at your bottom lip grunting when he feels the way it makes you flutter around him.
“Come on baby, give me another one. Be my sweet girl again and tell me how good I make you cum.” His fingers slip against your clit, fingers wet from how worked up he had you but his words are enough to have your world stop for a second.
“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Ed-“ Going blind behind your closed eyes he coaxes your second orgasm out of you with a silent scream falling onto his turned up lips. Proud of his work, his hips start picking up their pace inching closer to his own release he’d been fighting off since going down on you. 
“God, - fuck I’m close - where d-do you-?” Sweat drips down his forehead while he struggles to find his words, his impending orgasm making him short circuit.
“Inside, shit - please, I need it, Eddie.” Still needy and barely coming down, your legs around his waist tighten their hold, locking him in place while you use the last of your strength to help get him there. 
“Whatever you’re doing - holy shit , Jesus - I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” His hips press hard against yours when his cock twitches, spilling warm inside your greedy walls that don’t stop asking him for more. His face hides in your neck, the heat of his breath fanning against your sweat kissed skin while his body shakes with his release.
The roll of your hips never stops, just slowing enough to make him shiver after he starts softening, spent inside of you. You know there’s a mess starting to drip but neither one of you has the energy to move just yet. His lips start leaving small kisses along your neck, nose nudging against the space behind your ear and you can feel his smile against your cheek before he finally lifts his head up. The brown in his eyes return to a warm auburn like before when they meet yours.
“Rick is gonna fucking kill me if he ever finds out what happened on this counter tonight.” Rolling your eyes, you snort at his joke before shoving against his chest.
“You’re telling me you don’t fuck all your cute customers behind the bar, Eddie?” Batting your lashes at him, he squeezes your hips with a smirk. 
“Only, the really, really cute ones. I take them to get pancakes at IHOP around the corner, too.” Something shifts in his eyes and you think for a second you might see self doubt in them for the first time all night, “That is, if they still want to.”
“Well lucky for you, I only let bartender’s from The Foxy Lounge take me out.” Nudging your nose against his, your smile touches his lips.
“Sweetheart, you know I’m the only bartender here right?” Grinning like someone who just won the lottery, he quickly gets rid of the space between you, kissing you like it too.
5K notes · View notes
stairain · 28 days
In the Pouring Rain.
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You're driving home and there’s a storm incoming, but pulling over and never pulling out seems more than satisfactory. 
Warnings: Soft Dom Spencer, car sex, praise, nicknames, riding, pain during sex, creampie, reader feels guilty for literally everything, he is so very gentle with you. 
WC: 4.1K
You were sitting in the driver's seat of Spencer’s car, looking out the window as the car radio softly played. It was raining out. As he drove, you tore your gaze away from the window and looked over to him. You could barely make out his features, it was dark out, and the only light in the car was that of the passing street lights.
He glances quickly at you, then back at the road. He took a sip of his coffee as he continued to drive. 
"You doing okay? You’re quiet tonight."
You’re snapped out of your trance and nod slowly. “Yeah.. Spence. Just stressed from work, is all..” You turn away from him once more and look at the rain droplets pelting against the windshield.
He sighs and looks over at you again, still driving carefully. He’s heard that before. But he knows not to push the issue, and just lets you think. 
"Is there anything I can do?"
“I think I just need to.. calm down, a bit..” You mutter, still not looking at him but instead playing with your fingers anxiously.
He nods and his face softens as he looks over at you. He has a look of concern on his face. "Do you need to stop and just get out and stretch or something? Maybe just pull over and take a few deep breaths before we drive the rest of the way home, or do you feel like you want to get home quickly and just sit and try to relax there?"
“Yeah.. Yeah, do you think you could pull over for a bit?” The rain is coming down harder now, and you’ve always been wary about driving in this weather. You didn’t need the stress of safety adding onto your already anxious mood.
Spencer nods and slows down. "Of course I can, no problem. The weather is getting crazy out here lately." He pulls over and parks the car, taking the car out of drive. He turns to you and seems concerned. Then he smiles. "Do you think a hug and a few deep breaths would help?" he asks. He waits for you to make the final call.
The loud patter of the rain outside calms you down a bit, along with the soft and gentle tone of his voice. You unbuckle your belt and turn to him. It’s a few moments that pass by before you take a deep breath and climb over the center console, sitting in his lap.
He carefully wraps his arms around you, and hugs you tightly. You feel his soft and warm embrace. The smell of his cologne surrounds you. You feel safe and protected in his arms. It's very calming and comforting, and you feel all the tension melt away. You take a few deep, calming breaths, which helps to further soothe you.
"How's that? A little better?" He asks, before kissing your head and just hugging you.
You’re sitting sideways in his lap, and pressing tight against his warm chest. The once pounding beat of your heart gradually slows down as he holds you, and after a few moments you nod. “Yes.. Thank you, Spence.” 
You feel him nodding and stroking your hair softly, seeming perfectly content in the moment with just holding you. He smiles softly and kisses your cheek. A few minutes of comfort go by before he speaks again. "Shall we continue on?"
You look out the window and it looks like the rain has done everything but stopped. It’s storming at this point, and you feel your heart beating faster at just the thought of driving back in these conditions. “I think it’s best if we stay here for a while..”
Your boyfriend nods, seeming to understand your concerns about the storm. He is pretty cautious himself when it comes to driving in bad weather. He gently rubs your shoulder, and seems content just holding you - he's a physical touch loving person in that way. He loves to be close to you like this. 
"Okay. Do you want to keep talking? Or just sit and cuddle like this for a while? We can do whatever you like.” he says with a kind and soft smile, his voice showing his affection. 
You look up at him with a smile on your face. It didn’t look like the storm would be letting up anytime soon, so you’d be stuck here for a while. “As long as I’m with you, I don’t mind what we do.”
He blushes a little at your sweet words, and strokes your hair. His eyes are warm and soft. He seems happy just to be with you, and having you in his arms, no matter where you are. You feel safe and secure in him. A few minutes more go by, and he finally speaks. "Can I ask you a question?" 
“Of course, Spence.” You look up at him.
He seems a bit hesitant and almost a bit nervous to ask, as this is not an easy question for him to ask, but he pushes through it and decides to just ask honestly and be vulnerable, because you are important to him. "What do you see in me?" he asks quietly. 
You give him a look of confusion before sitting up and leaning against the door of the car. You scrunch your eyebrows together. “What do you mean?”
Spencer sighs and looks away, seeming embarrassed. He doesn't like asking for reassurance like this, since he doesn't want you to feel obligated or pressured. He also doesn't want you to think he has low self esteem. But he pushes past it and looks at you again, with a serious look in his eyes.
"What makes me different from the other men you know, and why do you choose to be with me?" 
“W-Where’s this coming from, Spence? Did something happen or..?” Your boyfriend was never like this, in fact, you were usually the one who asked him these types of questions, so you were puzzled as to why things have suddenly flipped.
He sighs softly and rubs his eyes. "I just... I get insecure sometimes. You are amazing, and I just don't fully understand why you are with me or what you see in me. I don't have the best self esteem sometimes. I know I have my good qualities, but.. I still get those intrusive thoughts sometimes. It's been on my mind lately and I just needed to ask... that's all."
You feel yourself melt at his words and lean in to press a kiss to his cheek. One of your hands moves to hold his cheek as you begin to talk.
“No one makes me feel safe like you do.. You know, most people if I asked them to pull over because of the rain or.. or because I had a hard day, they’d just brush it off or tell me to wait until we were home..” Your voice was quiet, and the rain outside was almost drowning you out. 
“You’re caring.. You’re so caring, Spencer. On nights where I can’t sleep and wake you up, you never get mad at me, you’re always just.. there. You hold me until I fall asleep, even if it takes hours, you’re always there for me.”
He looks over at you, and the warm and thoughtful expression on his face is enough to make your heart flutter. His eyes seem to hold so much sincerity and affection towards you, and you feel loved and cherished. He can see the sincerity on your face too, and can see a little tear forming in your eye. He is so happy to hold such a lovely woman in his arms, and he just can't believe how lucky he is. He pulls you in a passionate kiss, which he hopes will convey how much he loves you in a better way than he can with words.
You’re caught off guard as he suddenly grabs you by the back of your head and pulls you into a passion filled kiss. Your eyes widen momentarily before they shut and you melt into his hold.
Spencer holds you tightly, and the intensity of the kiss makes your heart race faster. For a moment, it's like the world has slowed down and everything else has vanished - only you two remain, and you're completely immersed in the moment. There is a passion and intensity to the kiss, as you can tell he wants to make sure he shows you how much you mean to him - but there is still love and affection too, and not just lust. Everything about it is just so perfect, and you feel swept up in his arms. The intensity of it is undeniable.
His hands start to move their way through your hair, gently grabbing it as he deepens the kiss. You softly moan into his mouth at the feeling of his hands in your hand and his lips on yours.
He kisses you with all the passion in him. You can feel the love he feels for you radiating off him, and he kisses you with such force and intensity, you can almost sense his adoration and desperation for you. Every part of him just wants you. His breathing starts to become deep and heavy as the kiss progresses, and the sounds of the rain around you seem to dim a bit, as the world narrows down to just being you two, and the intensity of the moment. There is a softness but also a forcefulness in his touch, it's a combination that's intoxicatingly perfect.
You reach out and hold his shoulders in your trembling hands, and the pure love and passion he’s putting into the kiss is becoming quickly overwhelming. You pull back and catch your breath.
His face is red and he is slightly out of breath after such an intense kiss. He tries to catch his breath, while looking at you with his eyes still showing so much affection for you. If you were ever unsure before about how much he loves you - there is no doubting it now. He smiles at you, his eyes sparkling with love and affection. The way he looks at you makes it clear that he is willing to do anything for you, and he would never let anything bad happen to you. He strokes your hair with a soft and gentle hand.
"Are you okay?"
You can’t help but swoon at his concern, he truly loved you more than anything. You nod and swallow. “Please.. Kiss me again..”
His expression softens even further at your words, and he nods happily, leaning over and kissing you again, with just as much intensity as before. You feel the warmth of him through your lips, and are completely swept up in the moment. The feelings of love and attraction are so overwhelming as you kiss, it feels like you're floating. He pulls away just slightly from the kiss, and looks at you, with a slight smile on his face. "Happy?"
When he pulls away, you shake your head. “I think I need more, Spence.” Your tone is teasing and filled with lust and love.
He smiles a bit more, and nods - completely on board with that idea. He is still slightly out of breath from before, but your request has just turned him on even more. His smile grows into a smirk as he leans in and starts kissing you again - a passionate and hot kiss. His smile is playful and mischievous and there is passion behind his eyes - the mix of it all is just something else. It's like you two are perfectly intertwined.
You whimper into the kiss, and your desperation to be taken care of by him grows with every second that passes. You grab one of his hands that’s in your hair and press his gentle hands up against the curves of your chest, making him grab a handful and squeeze. 
He looks surprised at you taking control and moving your hand there, he looks into your eyes with a slightly playful and surprised look, which turns into a smile. He slowly leans forward and begins kissing down your neck. "Do you want to continue?" he asks.
You throw your head back gently against the window, and moan out your answer. “Y-Yes, please..”
Spencer’s hand reaches down to your skirt and flips up the fabric, exposing your underwear for him. He bites his lip and runs a tentative finger over your covered clit. You jump at the feeling and clench your thighs around his arm. 
“Leave them open, honey.” 
You nod and spread your legs slowly once more, trying to leave them open for him, just like he told you to. 
His middle finger just barely started rubbing over your panty clad cunt, and when he pulls away, you can see your slick coating his finger. He’s got a cocky smirk on his face as he looks at it and practically forces you to look at it. 
“You’re soaked, baby. Look at you..” You whine in embarrassment and throw your head back in shame. He chuckles and slips it into his mouth. 
“Spence.. Stop it, please..” 
His finger leaves his mouth and is against your skin again in an instant. This time, when his hand returns to you panties, he pulls them to the side, exposing your dripping pussy.
“Fine, fine, Sweetheart.” 
He bites his lip at the sight and feels his breath hitch at the way the soft light from the street light makes your slick glisten against your hole. 
You stay quiet, a bashful blush cast on your skin as he admires you. Spencer tries to look out the windows and windshield to see if anyone is around, but the pouring rain is acting like a curtain, the harsh storm hiding you two from the outside world. 
His hands are off of you and instead are fumbling with the button and zipper of his pants. Once he gets them down, he pulls you up from the way you’re sitting sideways in his lap and makes you straddle him. 
It’s a bit of a squeeze, and you try to reach down to push his seat back, but he beats you to it. 
“Let me do the work, sweetie.”
The man reaches under the seat and lifts the bar, making his seat quickly roll back into the car. You smile at him and lean forward to rest your wrists on the seat. 
“Thank you, Sir..” 
After you’ve allowed yourself to get comfortable on his lap, he reaches down with a desperate huff and pulls down his own underwear, and his thick cock springs out from the fabric, and he practically moans out in relief at no longer being constricted. 
You can feel the drool pooling in your mouth as your eyes flash down to his dick, then to his face, then back down to his dick. He reaches a hand down and wraps his palm around the base of himself, and uses the other hand to flip up the front of your skirt again. And as expected, you’re dripping arousal on his pants, panties still pushed to the side. 
Spencer guides the tip of his cock and rubs it against your glistening folds, making the both of you shudder and moan at the feeling. The rain was cold, but you were impossibly hot. The warmth and wetness of your pussy was already proving to be too much, and he hasn’t even slipped inside yet. 
“Please.. Let me take care of you, angel..” 
He sounds so sincere, there’s no possible way you could do anything but agree that Yes, he needs to take care of you. You nod, and lift yourself on your thighs slightly, making room for him to slide right into your awaiting hole. 
Taking a deep breath, he holds his cock underneath your trembling body, and slowly lowers you onto him. The feeling has him clenching his fist against the fabric of your skirt, and ripping the skin of his lip. And as you feel his head pry open your walls, it takes you everything not to lean back and set off the horn. 
“My god.. So sweet…” He whispers into the air. You always had a hard time fully taking him into you, but he was always there to help you. And tonight was no different, your face scrunched in pain as he broke you in, sliding into you like a shoe three sizes far too small.
“I-I’m sorry.. Spence.” 
But he’s quick to shush you and make sure there’s none of that. 
“Shh, love.. Stop that.. There’s nothing to apologize for. I’m right here, alright? You’re alright… I’ll take care of you, Princess.”  
He wipes the fallen tears on your face and kisses the tracks of them, still slowly sliding your shaking body down onto his all too hard and big cock. 
“You’re so big.. I..” 
You can’t finish your sentence, not now. You cut yourself off with a loud moan when you finally feel the insides of thighs flush against his hips. You did it. 
“I know, baby, I know.. It’s alright..” 
Spencer runs a comforting hand through your hair and god does it take all the power possible for him not to lose control right then and there. With how you’re so tight around him, and how he almost loses his mind at how he can feel how wet you are, and how it’s dripping onto the skin of his hips and thighs. 
You’re entirely too much for him, but he’s the same way for you. 
You cry in his hold as you adjust to the pain, and he runs large hands over your in gentle, comforting touches. Despite being the very thing breaking you, he’s still treating you like the thinnest most fragile statue made of crystal. 
Wanting to be the best for him and with the desperation to make him proud, you push aside the burn you’re feeling, and slowly start to lift your hips off of him, experimenting with the feeling. Although you’ve been blessed and fucked by him before, it never gets easier with just how big he is, and how small you are. 
“Hey.. Hey. Love.. Are you sure you’re ready?” 
His hand reaches out to grab your hip to still you, and you go to wipe the tears on your face. You sniff as you try to figure out what you want. 
“Sp-Spence.. Help me please..” 
You try to find his other hand, and when you do, you place it on your empty hip, letting it accompany the other one already gripping you. With eyes full of need, lust, and helplessness, you look up at him. 
“Stop me when you want to, babygirl..” 
Spencer’s grip tightens on your hips, and begins to lift you off his cock, before slowly pushing you back down. He sighs at the feeling of your drenched hole covering him with arousal and constricting around him, but his gaze never leaves your face, making sure you’re not crying too much. 
Your cries eventually devolve into soft sniffles as you’ve adjusted to the intrusion that was your boyfriend. He’s still gently guiding you up and down his length, and you’ve moved your hands to grab at his shoulders, both your hands on either side of his head as you dug your nails into the fabric of his blazer every time he unintentionally stamped your spot with the tip of his cock. 
“So beautiful, angel.. Can’t believe it.”
He leans up in his seat and wraps his arms around your waist now, holding you close with your chests touching each other. Your mouth is agape in soft whines and moans, and he presses light kisses all over your face, down to your neck, and stops to suck a mark right onto the sweaty skin of your throat. 
“You’re mine, yeah?” 
Spencer mutters in the softest tone imaginable, as he thrusts slowly up into you. Your pussy is sucking him up greedily, taking every blow he humps into you. 
“Y-Yeah.. Yeah.. Yours..” 
Every time he sheaths himself inside of you, the rough fabric of his shirt rubs right against your sensitive clit. You can feel your orgasm approaching a lot faster than expected, but you always finished remarkably fast with him anyways, he just knew exactly how to treat you. 
At your words, he leans back into his seat and his hands find their way back to your hips, and he starts to thrust into you harder. The loud rain pounding onto the glass of the car windows, the wet slapping of your pussy against his pelvis, your breathy moans and his breathless groans. They fill the atmosphere and make you roll your eyes back in pure pleasure. 
His cock feels so good inside of you, and the pain that once filled you was replaced by a dull ache in your womb to be absolutely filled to the brim.. You needed to be filled by his cock and his warm cum.  
Not once this entire night have you done any of the work, you’re supposed to be riding him, bouncing on his cock and moaning like the slut you are for him, but instead, he’s sliding your cunt on his dick like you’re nothing but a doll. 
Spencer wanted to take care of you, and he was getting exactly that. He wouldn’t be able to sleep at night if he knew you did something that he could easily do for you instead. 
His mouth parts in a groan and then a hiss, as his thrusts into you and his grip on your hips all become sloppier. 
“I’m not lasting much longer than this, baby.. That alright with you?”
Your boyfriend reaches a hand down to rub tight circles on your clit, wanting to make you finish before he did, but god did you feel good around him. You always made it so hard for him to hold back. 
You whine out a sweet ‘mhm’ and roll your eyes back at the feeling of him touching your already rubbed raw clit. But, to be fair, his fingers were a much better pleaser than the bottom of his shirt. 
Clenching around him and crying out, you realized you’re cumming. Your orgasm creeps up onto you before you can even tell him, but there’s no possible way you can hide it from him. Not with the way you’ve become impossibly tighter, and he can feel the way you’re creaming around his cock. It’s dripping down to his underwear, soaking the fabric. 
“Fuck.. Sir, I’m sorry..” 
Spencer shakes his head and reaches forward and wraps his strong arms around your shuddering body. You’re shaking not only from the surprise orgasm, but also in fear you’ve disappointed him. 
“You did so well, my angel.. It’s okay, you… fuck, you don’t need to apologize.. Never…” 
His thrusts become more erratic as he speaks, and he’s no longer moving you on his cock. You’re pressed down hard against him as he humps into you and squeezes your body against his. 
“In-Inside.. Is that alright with you, darling..?”
You’re beyond wrecked at this point, but you and your pussy are just about begging to be filled with his release. You nod and lean forward a bit to start desperately kissing at his neck, trying to find any way to make him cum faster, as well as to ground yourself. 
“Oh fuck.. So so good for me.. I love you so much, baby.. Too much..” 
And with a guttural groan, he delivers one last final thrust into you and with how tight he’s holding you against him, you can feel the way his hips are shaking as he empties his release into you. You’re moaning out his name as he pumps his hot cum inside of you, finally giving you what you want. 
High pitched whimpers leave your lips as you feel it leaking out of you, painting the sticky walls of your pussy, and coating the glistening folds that shine in the faint light. 
Spencer leans back into his seat and brings you down with him, holding your head with a firm palm as his chest heaves and his body calms down. 
“You’re always such a good girl for me.. My angel..” He softly praises in your ear as he tries to soothe the both of you and bring you down from your respective highs. He knows it always takes more out of you than him, but the passion he holds for you always takes him by surprise. 
The storm outside still hasn’t calmed down a bit, but you’re more than content to sit here with him until it passes over, even if you could feel his release spilling out of you and no doubt staining his car seats. 
But what a trophy that would be. 
1K notes · View notes
shares-a-vest · 21 days
Eddie stages-whispers his boyfriend's name before he has even reached the bedroom. He furiously rubs his bare arms, shaking from the cold.
He'd dried off as best he could downstairs, first kicking off his muddied boots at the front door. He discarded his soaked shirt and (likely ruined) jacket in the laundry, settling for drying his hair with a dishcloth he had nabbed on the way.
He has probably left wet footprints all through the house, but the mark they will leave on Mrs Harrington's hardwood floors is a problem for Tomorrow Eddie.
"Steve! Psst! Steve! Steve... Steeeeeve," he says, focusing on Right-Fucking-Now Eddie as he toes his wet socks off in the doorway.
He hobbles along, shivering as he reaches the foot of the bed. Of course, being left to fall asleep alone during a rainstorm, Steve has completely starfished across the bed.
And he is snoring. Loud.
"Steve!" he not-so-much whispers this time, he taps the exposed foot sticking out from under the covers and begins peeling off his soaked jeans.
They stick to his legs and he stumbles sideways, catching himself on the edge of the bed just before he hits the floor. The move practically jolts the mattress a solid inch. But Steve doesn't move. He merely snorts, all wet and throaty (it's gross). He then groans and retracts his foot back under the blanket.
"Dude!" Eddie yelps, slapping a hand to his forehead.
This is what he gets for insisting Corroded Coffin still play their scheduled Tuesday night gig at The Hideout when Hawkins was supposed to receive the worst rainfall in three years overnight. And of course, the pretty weather lady in her green dress and gigantic side ponytail on the local news was more than correct.
Finally, something.
He ducks down onto the floor, feeling around in the darkness for a t-shirt, a sweater, those silly boyish pyjama pants Steve wears... Anything that is dry and preferably warm. His hand touches something and he kneads it.
Okay, so maybe not Steve's Family Video vest.
He shakes his fist in the air and growls as he tosses it. Now on his hands and knees, he scrambles around. Carpet... Carpet... Steve's jeans... A sock... Carpet... The jacket he decided not to wear tonight... Another sock...
Bingo! A sweater.
A sweater that smells like Steve's cologne and fruity shampoo. Eddie shudders. Or maybe it's more that he doubles over in a rain-induced shiver.
He shucks it on and moves to his designated side of the bed, teeth chattering all the way.
"Huh?" Steve says, clearly on a sleepy delay (and completely oblivious to Eddie scuttling around on the floor looking for some damn clothes) as he palms around nowhere near the bedside lamp.
"Move over! I'm freezing!"
He doesn't wait for an answer. Or movement. He just starts shoving Steve's barely-conscious deadweight without a great deal of success.
"Okay!" Steve grumbles, heaving himself back over to his side with a dramatic huff, taking most of the blankets with him.
Eddie slips under the scrap of covers he is left with, burrowing in close to the warm space Steve just vacated. He squirms his way close enough that he can slip his hands up under Steve's sleep shirt, a paper-thin piece of material that is wholly inappropriate for such a freezing night.
"You're cold," Steve says with a slow motion-like gasp, eyes snapping open as he arches his back away from almost-frostbitten fingers.
"Yeah, no shit!" he retorts, immediately regretting it because Natural Space Heater Steve Harrington has all the power here.
But to his surprise, Steve kisses him on the cheek as he flaps the blankets around enough to cover them both fully. He pulls Eddie closer with one arm, still strong despite being half asleep.
"Why aren't you wearing pants!" Eddie exclaims far too loudly for the silence of Steve's plaid-soaked bedroom.
"But it's warm in here," he grumbles back, eyes fluttering shut too quickly to see Eddie rolling his. Steve wiggles closer still, tangling their legs together as he mumbles, "C'here... I need to... go back to sleep... now..."
He hardly gets the words out as they morph into a low snore directly in Eddie's ear.
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ptersparkers · 7 months
Hi! I saw you were looking for Aaron Hotchner requests! I was thinking about smth angst, but with a happy ending. Where Aaron accidentally says or does something that makes the reader very insecure. He doesn't realise for a while. In the end he does realise and makes up for it?
Thanks for considering!
thank you for requesting!! x
You’re extremely worried that you might like Aaron more than he likes you.
It’s easy to pretend like you’ve got him wrapped around your finger and that he’d fall for you with the snap of your finger, but you’re not completely sure that he’s in it for the long haul like you are.
It wasn’t hard to fall for Aaron as quickly as you did. He’s strong-willed, confident, and you have a sneaking suspicion your teenage self would swoon over Aaron after hearing about all the stories you’d tell.
You don’t know when this thing starts exactly.
Maybe it started when he asked you how you took your coffee and made you a cup one morning in the beginning of autumn. Or maybe it started when you noticed he’d laugh at your quick whips or comebacks to Derek’s jokes. You aren’t sure, but the blossoming feelings in your chest doesn’t subdue when he leaves the room.
You think he likes you back because you’ve spent some time together away from work. 
It starts out accidental; you run into him one Sunday morning while grocery shopping and then the following week at a coffee house near your apartment. Aaron asks you if you’d like to join him for a cup and this semi-regular occurrence suddenly becomes something you look forward to. But you’re stuck in a will they, won’t they, situation. And it kills you.
Aaron doesn’t realize that women find him attractive, but you do. 
You see it when you go on cases and when female officers flirt with him in the precinct. You see it when baristas ogle him when he orders for the both of you. You see it when you walk down the street with him and you see it when you’re out to dinner with the team on long cases.
It drives you insane when you begin to realize Aaron doesn’t reject their advances.
You’re not surprised at how many times Aaron has been propositioned or how many women have given him his phone number. You don’t exactly blame them either; he’s attractive and doesn’t have a wedding band on his finger. Still, it cuts you to the core when you realize Aaron entertains these women while taking you on coffee dates every Sunday morning.
Like tonight. 
There’s only so much the team can do in one day and you’re all burnt out by eight in the evening. Rossi offers to buy everyone a few rounds and you head to the pub down the block from the precinct. The ambiance is nice, the food isn’t too half bad, and you’ve got two drinks in you to forget feeling like you’re going a disservice to the murder victims by decompressing with alcohol.
It’s when a woman approaches Aaron at the bar do you frown. You’re close enough to hear fragments of their conversation and you try your best not to pay attention, but you do it anyway. You hear her compliment his cologne and you hear her compliment his suit, his hair, and how handsome he is. Aaron thanks her and waits for the bartender, and he doesn’t move away when she steps closer to him. 
You watch as she slides her business card to him across the bar table and you think you’ve had enough.
“Where are you going?” Spencer asks when you stand up from the table. 
“I need some air,” is all you offer. Spencer looks at your half empty beer on the table and watches as you walk out the door without your jacket. 
You’re alone for twenty minutes, and you know this because you check your phone to see if Aaron has made any mention of you being gone. You’re sabotaging yourself and you know this, but your bad habits don’t let up. 
The weather is cold but the alcohol in your system is keeping you warm. You started drinking with barely any food in your system and you’re desperate to get sober enough to drive back to the hotel. 
You hear the front door open and assume it’s a patron leaving the pub. You don’t expect Aaron to look at you with a concerned expression and shrug his jacket off.
“You look cold,” Aaron says. You look between his jacket and him, and you decline because you feel like hurting yourself.  
“I’m not,’ you say stubbornly.
“It’s freezing outside and you’re only wearing a shirt,” Aaron pleads. “Please, take my jacket.”
You relent. The jacket is large on you and you hate that it’s warming you up quickly. 
When you don’t say anything, Aaron moves himself beside you and leans against the same wall you are. He leaves some distance between the two of you and he’s fidgeting with his wallet in his pocket. 
“You should probably get back inside,” you say, annoyed that he’s standing next to you. “The team will wonder where you are.”
“They’re wondering where you are,” he says softly. I’m wondering where you went. 
“I told Spencer I needed some air.”
“Did you get what you needed?” 
What you need is space away from Aaron. You need to forget that you saw him accept another woman’s number and you need to forget your feelings from him. 
“No,” is all you say.
“Is there something I can do to help?”
You turn to face him only to find him already looking at you. 
You’re sure your face looks glazed over. The wall keeps you upright and you feel limp with disappointment. You hate that Aaron cares so much for you when all you want to do is forget he exists. 
Seeing him with other women makes you feel like you’re not good enough for him. It makes you feel like you might be someone he entertains when he’s bored or when he has no one else to talk to. Working together already complicates things enough. 
“I think we should stop doing whatever this is,” you say, gesturing between the both of you. 
“We should stop seeing each other outside of work, Aaron. It’s not healthy for either of us.”
Aaron pushes himself off of the wall to look at you. “What do you mean? I thought we were having a great time getting to know each other.”
It’s almost laughable at how invisible you must look. Your tears are threatening to ruin your mascara and it takes everything in you not to let him see you cry.
“I just watched you accept a phone number from a woman tonight,” you point out. “In fact, I’ve seen you do that multiple times and it doesn’t leave a good impression on me. I don’t have time for whatever you think it is we’re doing and you are not worth the trouble if you’re going to string me along like some kind of puppet. It hurts my feelings, Aaron.”
He opens his mouth, but then he closes it. Aaron looks at you under the dim light from the street posts and you’re about to walk away from him when he speaks. 
“I don’t know what to do when women approach me because I’ve never seriously dated anyone other than Haley,” he blurts. “I feel awkward when women give me their business cards and I feel like I can’t say no to them because, quite frankly, I don’t know how.
“Every time women have approached me while I was with Haley, my marriage was always my excuse. But I can’t use that anymore because I haven’t been with her in a long time, and I feel like I’m letting people down if I don’t at least acknowledge them.” 
You swear your mouth hangs open. You’ve never heard Aaron be this honest before.
“I like you a lot,” Aaron breathes. “It scares me. I get scared when you’re in the field and I’m not there. I want to do more than go on coffee dates with you and I want more than a few hours every weekend. I want you and I’m sorry that it seems like I don’t.”
Your cheeks heat up at his confession and you can feel your nail digging into your palm. You blink, unsure if Aaron is standing in front of you or if he’s an apparition conjured by the alcohol in your system. 
“You’re not going to say anything?” Aaron asks. It isn’t an accusation. Rather, you hear the insecurity in his voice and you don’t waste another minute. 
You kiss him. 
His lips are warm and they taste of bourbon. Your hands are flat on his chest and his arms are snug on your hips the moment your lip touched his, and you swear you can feel your head in the clouds when he breaks away. Aaron looks at you for a moment before dipping his head back down to press another sweet kiss to your lips. 
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upsidedownwithsteve · 9 months
Chocolate (Sweater Weather pt2.)
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Eddie Munson x fem!reader [3.3k] autumn, a horror movie, a boy that smells like sugar and spice and tastes like hot chocolate.
Watching horror movies with Eddie had become a weekly habit, a new tradition that slipped into your life the way fall blew into town. With a burst of fresh air, warm colours, rolling in like a sudden downpour, the smell of rain and fallen leaves, spice, smoke and boy. 
Eddie’s uncle had fixed you car for you, enough that it ran without screaming bloody murder, anyway. The older man had accepted a tray of homemade cinnamon rolls as a thanks, waving away the cash that you tucked in an envelope with it, telling you that he liked banana bread too, and to look after his boy. 
You weren’t sure who’d blushed harder at that, yourself or Eddie, but you discovered that day that the boy looked entirely too pretty with pink, flushed cheeks.
You’d spent three Friday’s in Eddie’s trailer with him, always after work when the evenings were slipping into darkness, autumn coming into Hawkins fast. It brought sleepy mornings and gloomy afternoons, the sky already inky when you left your job at the bookstore around six o’clock and your car barely had time to heat up on the way to the trailer park before you were clambering back out and knocking on the Munson’s door.
Sometimes Wayne answered, quick to leave once he’d greeted you warmly and yelled for his nephew, always an excuse about a car auction to see, or a much needed trip to the grocery store. But he’d always wink at you both when he left and you were beginning to think the man was just trying to give you both time alone.
Not that it mattered, not really. 
Nothing had happened. Not past watching movies and sharing conversation. And it’s not like you were only visiting Eddie in the hopes that you’d make out and roll around in his bed, no, not at all. You loved talking to the boy, your chats growing sleepy and slow as the night waned on and the movie credits rolled in the background. You loved the way you’d slip down the corner of the sofa, heavy with sleep and hot cocoa, toes touching Eddie’s from the otherside of the couch, knees finally bumping when shyness gave way to curiosity and temptation. 
You didn’t visit in the hopes for a kiss. But that didn’t mean you didn’t want one. 
Your fourth Friday at Eddie’s meant Texas Chainsaw Massacre and your turn to bring snacks. So you packed a Tupperware box full of homemade cookies, chunky orange chocolate chips buried in the thick biscuit. You picked up some chips too, just in case, a packet of red vines and M&M’s because Eddie got the munchies after a joint or two. 
The cold nipped at your skin as you drove over, the threat of a drizzle looming in the dark clouds and you passed streets lined with jack ‘o’ lanterns, ugly carved faces in the lead up to Halloween. The trailer park was lit up with them too, an orange glow from each door step, the smell of cinnamon and cloves from Mrs Geller's trailer next door. 
Eddie told you last time that you didn’t need to knock, not anymore. And Wayne’s car wasn’t in the drive, but you were still hesitant, fist curled and ready to tap on the front door but your hands were too full, the box of cookies threatening to tumblr to the dirt. 
So you took a deep breath and opened the door, the shy squeak of the hinges announcing your arrival. The trailer was quiet, the tv on but only showing static, the low crackle of it filling the small living area. The entire place smelled like chocolate and mint, sugar and cologne from a boy you couldn’t find. 
There was a pot simmering on the stove, melted chocolate bubbling gently, the source of the smell and you set your things down on the counter beside it. Before you could call out for him, Eddie appeared down the hall, his bedroom door opening to reveal him already smiling. 
This Eddie was your favourite Eddie. 
Grey sweatpants and an old band t-shirt, the logo faded from wear and the sun, a small hole at the collar. It showed off the tattoos on his arms, the lines of muscles there that always surprised you. He looked fresh from a shower, all soft curls and smelling like peppercorn and cedar, spicy and earthy. 
He grinned when he saw you, more like beamed, really. Eddie had the talent to light up the room when he smiled, a wide, slow stretch of his lips, dimples on show, brown eyes turning to caramel. You looked at him and saw the last of summer, the first days of fall; all dark eyes and dark hair, warm like coffee, big sweaters, flannels tied around his waist, the comfort of a heavy hand on the small of your back.
“Well hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, and god it hurt your heart with how genuinely happy he looked to see you. “Whatcha got there?”
He was behind you before you could answer, almost too close, the heat of him pressed against your back, his broad chest brushing against you as he peered over your shoulder, inspecting the tupperware. His curls brushed your cheek as he leant in and you could smell sandalwood and mint. 
“Cookies?” he murmured, and you warmed at how close he was, how he spoke by your ear, oblivious to the flush on your chest. “You spoil me.”
“Mhm, chocolate orange,” you mumbled back, swaying a little clumsy on your feet, your back bumping into the solid expanse of his chest and Eddie brought a hand to your waist to steady you, a small smile that you couldn't see, toying at his lips. 
“They smell amazing,” he told you and he only moved to stir the hot chocolate that was still on the stove top, a large bag of baby pink marshmallows sitting next to it. 
You watched him as he pulled mugs from the shelves, your favourite one in his hand first, a deep cup that looked handmade, its rim a little wobbly, the clay a pretty plum colour. Eddie filled it with hot chocolate, marshmallows blooming and melting on top and you knew when you settled on the sofa to drink it, he’d lean over and brush the sugar from your cheek, grinning when you flushed. 
It was routine, it was a habit, it was a Friday night tradition that you longed for throughout the week. 
“You go get comfy, sweetheart, I’ll bring these over,” Eddie told you, a mug in each hand and you grabbed the treats, eager to settle into the corner of the sofa. 
The lights inside the trailer were low, the lamp by Wayne’s armchair the only other source apart from the television. It made the night a little warmer, but Eddie set the cups on the coffee table, disappearing back into his room only for a few seconds and he returned with a sweater, throwing it playfully at you.
You grinned, pulling it over your head, not caring that it mussed your hair, and the soft, black cotton swamped your frame. It was the same one he’d given you the day he’d picked you up. Your favourite.
“For someone who told me I’d never get that back, you do leave it here an awful lot,” Eddie smiled, eyes fond as he watched you pull the hem of it down over your thighs. “You’re a terrible thief, you know?”
You weren’t really thinking when you murmured happily, “it smells like you now.”
You were sure you would’ve been more mortified at your admission if Eddie hadn’t beamed, his smile lighting up the room, the highs of his cheeks turning pink and Christ, he looked so pleased at your honesty. Neither of you said anything else, you weren’t sure if you trusted yourself to, so you settled back into the sofa and didn’t look back at him until you’d drained your hot cocoa and a leatherface had killed his first two victims. 
And when Eddie had managed three of your cookies, sounds of appreciation coming from his lips like sin, he’d finally turned off the lamp and stretched himself out on the other end of the sofa. The movie made the room flicker, the light low and casting shadows across the two of you like a blanket. 
That easy familiarity found its way back to you both, the kind that made you lazy, socked feet tucked into the cushions, so close to Eddie’s thighs. There was a different kind of buzz in the air that night, an anticipation that came from something other than the horror movie on screen. It itched at your skin the same way, like a fizz of impatience, like knowing something was coming. It didn’t scare you as much, this feeling, not like it used to. 
It’s why you let yourself slouch lower into your seat, toes pushing underneath Eddie’s thighs in the guise of seeking warmth. He didn’t seem to mind, not if his smile was anything to go by. His weight was a solid heat against you, only your feet and his leg touching, innocent by miles. But Jesus, it burned you. 
Eddie Munson was all familiar touches, achingly sweet brushes of his hand against yours when he was near, a thumb swiped on your cheek, chasing marshmallow fluff and whipped cream. And in the dark, like this, he sometimes felt brave enough to push against the corner of your mouth, always fleeting. He was a hug goodbye at the end of the night, arms low on your waist, fingers always close to pressing underneath your shirt, like a heat seeking missile to warm, bare skin. 
Eddie Munson was the kiss that never came.
At least, not yet.
“Cold?” he asked, brown eyes shockingly dark in the low light. 
He was watching you from under thick lashes, one arm thrown over the back of the couch, fingers without his rings for once, and you ached to tangle your own in them, to let him pull you into him. You could, you thought. Why didn’t you? You wondered.
But you shook your head, smile suddenly shy and you couldn’t help but feel as disappointed as Eddie looked with your answer. Why on earth had you said no? But then the boy was trying again, throwing you another opportunity with another soft, quiet question, lips lifting at the corners like he wanted you to know he wasn’t going to bite.
“Scared?” there was a laugh in his voice, hidden like a secret, like a private joke, like he knew you weren’t but good god, what else could he say in order to get you to come closer?
You ducked your chin, hiding the smile that you knew would give you away, eyes back on the screen just in time to see leatherface grab Vanita Brock and drag her back into the house. Your gaze flicked back to Eddie, all fond and soft, lips twisted in thought.
“I mean,” you started, nose wrinkled, “he’s not the most wholesome of characters, is he?”
You were rewarded with a laugh, a huff of breath and a small snort from the boy as he pushed himself upright, leg slipping away from your feet and his back against the sofa. He was looking at you all prettily, like he was flirting, like he wanted you to not be able to look away.
You didn’t.
“I wouldn’t say leatherface is winning any awards for the best welcoming committee, no,” Eddie grinned, and then he curled his hand towards you, a soft beckon, a question.
You waited, hardly breathing.
“C’mere,” he whispered, “if you’re scared,” he added, sounding more nervous than you felt. 
The boy suddenly seemed more terrifying than the movie. Eddie was scary in the softest way, all worn cotton sweats, low on his hips. He was big, brown eyes and messy curls, hands that seemed like they could hold you real tight, he was sugar and spice and a heat that wasn’t normal for autumn time. He looked like he could swallow you whole, and you ached for it. 
It was alarming.
Disorientating, dizzying, how much you wanted to kiss him. A whole other type of horror. What if he said no? What if he didn’t want to? What if this wasn’t what you thought it was?
But then you were moving because Eddie was still waiting, eyes expectant on you, arm still thrown out as if inviting you in. And then it all became a little blurry because you got too brave, too impatient and your knees were squished into the cushions as you half crawled, half fell towards him, a leg thrown over his lap as you settled yourself over him, hands clutching at his shoulders.
It’s not what he meant, you were sure of it. This isn’t what he was offering. But he didn’t push you off. He stared at you though, wide eyed and slack jawed, his gaze dark like the night outside. Eddie looked surprised but not at all unhappy. His hands were slow as they made their way to your legs, like still wasn’t sure he was allowed to touch you, despite the way your hips were flush over his, the heat of the inside of your thighs pressed to the outside of his. 
“Is this okay?” you whispered, and somewhere in the background, a girl on the screen screamed.
Eddie swallowed hard, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat and he nodded.
“I’ve been wanting you to kiss me,” you admitted and your voice was a low murmur, sticky sweet like the hot chocolate, like honey. “But I wasn’t really sure if you were ever gonna do it.”
You let out a shaky breath, chest hitching, your skin overly warm under the wide expanse of Eddie’s hands on your upper thighs. It burned through the denim of your jeans, it made you wanna squirm, it made you feel bold.
You caught his gaze with yours, still somehow shy from under your lashes, blinking prettily at him. You watched his jaw slacken, felt the way his fingers curled a little tighter around your legs.
“So I thought I could maybe kiss you instead,” you told him, like a secret, like a confession. 
He made a choked sound at the back of his throat, eyes widening slightly before he licked at his bottom lip and shifted a little underneath you. He smiled then, softening the nerves that were scratching at the sides of your tummy, a slow, wide smile that showed off a dimple, the kind that turned his eyes the colour of toffee.
“Yeah?” he asked you and the sound of his voice buried its way into your heart.
You nodded and he tucked his chin to his chest, held tilted to look at you all shy, an achingly obvious show of affection hidden in his stare. Your bravery seemed to rub off of him though, or, maybe he’d had more of it all along. 
Because Eddie nodded too, palms rubbing encouragingly up and down your legs, “go on then, sweetheart.” Oh.
It took you a second, maybe two, but then you were leaning in all slow, nerves fluttering, chest still, breath burning in your throat. But you pressed your lips to Eddie’s, a soft meeting, that lazy push of your mouth that made his bottom lip melt between yours. 
It was fleeting, a quick but soft kiss that felt like the beginning. 
You pulled back with your eyes still closed, your hands curled into Eddie’s shirt collar, like you weren’t ready to let this end yet. But you didn’t have to worry about such a thing, because when your lashes fluttered once, twice, and you peered at the boy, he was already gazing at you, grinning.
He spoke around a smile, hands trailing higher up your legs until his thumbs were pushed into the crease between your thighs and your hips. Eddie held you there, steady.
“Can I kiss you now?” he asked.
You nodded, something else blooming in your tummy at his words and Eddie brought one hand between you both, fingers crooked to beckon you again, and you leaned back in. When you were close enough, he hooked a finger and thumb on your chin, smiling when he heard your breath hitch.
The pad of his thumb caught the edge of your bottom lip, the soft curve of it and he was mesmerised by the way it turned pliant under his touch.
“Is this okay?” he murmured your own words back to you, waiting patiently until you nodded.
“So fuckin’ pretty,” Eddie told you and then he was pulling to down to meet him, fingers splaying across the length of your jaw, a slow drag into your hair. 
His lips met yours again, soft like you’d kissed him, more gentle than he needed to be. He was real sweet with you, thumb pushing to the corner of your lip, coaxing you open. And then his tongue slid along yours and you let out a whimper, a soft, gasping little noise - and that’s when Eddie knew he was a goner. 
You were suddenly pressed to him, noses pushed to each other's cheek in a desperation to be closer, one hand releasing his shirt so you could mirror him, your palm cupping his face, his curls trapped between your touch. You didn’t think you’d ever been kissed like that, felt anything like the way Eddie felt. 
He tasted like chocolate orange, like sugar and smoke. He made noises that were as pretty as him when you pushed yourself closer, hips dragging over his and his hand flew to your waist to catch you, pushing impatiently underneath his own sweater so he could palm at the soft of your skin. The credits were rolling behind you, the screen fading to black and making the living room darker than it had been and all you could see behind your closed eyelids were shadows and stars. Eddie engulfed you, the feel of him, the smell of him, the taste of him and it was dizzying. He kissed you like he’d been waiting, like he'd wanted it for as long as you had. 
He pulled at your waist, soft and encouraging, never demanding and you felt his smile against your lips when you moved, shuffling closer so he could lick into your mouth deeper. It was dizzying, slow and lazy, like you had all the time in the world. 
Maybe you did. 
Another noise escaped you, a sharp gasp, ending in a little moan and it had Eddie reeling, his breath hitching, lips brushing once, twice over yours before he pulled back only slightly. 
“Wanna know somethin’?” he whispered and a bubble of excitement popped inside of you, like he was trusting you with something precious.
You smiled, nodding, the tip of your nose brushing Eddie’s and he squeezed at your waist, a touch that was full of affection. He swallowed thickly, his top lip grazing your bottom one. It was meant to tease, but he gave in way too easily, kissing away your grin.
Eddie whispered his secret into your mouth, sharing the same breath, the same smile.
“I got the biggest fuckin’ crush on you, sweetheart.”
His words were sweeter than the hot chocolate on his tongue. 
1K notes · View notes
spideryves · 4 months
pairing: joel miller x fem!reader
summary: a glance into joel, ellie, and the readers trip to tommy
word count: 887
warnings: cursing & sexual innuendos (like, a tiny baby one lol)
authors note: rushed the ending a little sorry :( but enjoy !!
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After the devastating discovery of what was left of Bill and Frank, it was time to move on.
The last time Y/N saw them was 2007, when Frank invited her, Tess, and Joel for lunch after agreeing to engage in trades. Frank’s charm won Y/N and Tess over, much to Bill’s dismay. In the end, his paranoid nature could never stand in the way of his love for Frank, and the 5 of them would engage in exchanging goods over the years. Y/N never went back to visit them in person with Joel and Tess, something she regrets, but she always made sure to write to the couple every time they traveled.
“Seatbelt,” muttered Joel.
She looked over to him, his voice snapping her out of her previous thoughts. She glanced over at him, his brown eyes staring at Ellie through the rearview mirror. Y/N sat in the passenger seat next to him, her shoulders almost touching with his elbow on the armrest between her. After a needed shower, his previous musk now smelt of soap and a hint of bergamot, alluding to some cologne Bill or Frank must’ve used (but she knew Joel wouldn’t admit to using it). As he reached in the backseat to fiddle with Ellie’s seatbelt, noting that she’s never been in a car before, Y/N turned back to stare out of her own car mirror, realizing she was probably staring at him for longer than needed.
As Ellie reached over to insert the tape she found, bickering with Joel until he decided to listen to the Linda Rondstat track, Y/N let her hang outside the window, the window feeling cool despite the previously warm weather.
“Are you warm enough?” Joel said to her on the way to Bill and Franks. Ellie was humming a few feet ahead of them as they walked, pretending not to hear the two ‘lovebirds’ as she’d say. Y/N smiled and nodded, her corduroy jacket tightly around her frame.
Although she didn’t see it, due to her jogging to catch up to Ellie, Joel smiled back.
“You know, I’m not a child,” Ellie quipped as Joel pulls out of the garage, the older car huffing after being used very little over the years. Y/N let out a dry laugh, rolling down her window to let some air in after her cheeks warmed a bit at the thought of Joel putting on cologne still clouded her mind.
‘Is there a chance he put in on for me?’ she shamelessly thought.
There was a beat of silence while Joel typed in the code to open the gate, but after they exited the neighborhood, Joel decided to indulge in whatever antics Ellie was about to ensue.
“You’re fourteen.”
“Did fourteen year-olds sit in the backseat in 2003?” she responded quickly, leaning closer to the two adults in the front.
Y/N shot her a playful glare out of the corner of her eye, sensing where Ellie was going with this. “If you didn’t wanna sit in the backseat, you should’ve called shotgun.”
The girl turned her nose up at that, looking for a response from Joel. Although he usually stayed quiet during their talks, he decided to turned down the music and listen.
“Like, a gun, gun?”
“That’s what you say when you wanna ride in the front seat, sweetheart.”
Y/N could see the dots connecting in Ellie’s head. The girl fell back against her seat, muttering something about how stupid our slang was and shuffled to roll down her own car window.
Joel glanced at her once more through the mirror, and shook his head. “Don’t you know, Y/N?” he started monotonously. “Ellie thinks us old folk don’t make sense.”
“That’s because you don’t- wait, you’re not old Y/N.”
Letting out a loud laugh, Y/N covered her mouth to hide her continued giggling as Joel only grunted. She noticed it wasn’t like his usual ones, out of annoyance or disgust. There was a playfulness behind it that warmed her a little.
“Joel is only in his fifties, Ellie.”
The girl snorted in response. “Only?”
“I’m right here, you know,” Joel said, his eyes not leaving the road.
Ellie ignored him, shuffling in her seat. “How old are you, Y/N?”
She paused before replying. “Guess.”
“She’s 41 today.”
The two girls both turned to look Joel, both with a incredulous look on their faces. “Today?”
Ellie paused, looking at how Y/N’s face turned a bit more bashful than before.
“Holy shit, it’s your birthday?!”
Y/N, still eyeing Joel, nodded. “I wanted you to guess though.”
“No, fuck that, why didn’t you tell me?”
“Is it really important now? Kind of on a mission right now.”
Ellie continued to talk their ears off, about how she should’ve told them, continuing on and on until she started reminiscing about how she doesn’t really remember her birthday as much. Although she tried to listen, briefly responding to the girl, Y/N looked outside her window once more as she smiled.
Once Ellie stopped talking, noticing that no one was really listening anymore, she noticed Joel staring at Y/N, glancing back at the road every now and then.
“Get a room you two..” she said softly.
709 notes · View notes
roohuh · 23 days
So close…
Ominis x MC
Summary: you and Ominis keep getting so close to tender moments but the residence of Hogwarts have other ideas
Warnings: none just floof
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Walking together into the storage shed you and Ominis haul in a large basket of brooms. Setting them down in their designated spot you turn to Ominis remarking,
“It’s not fair the professor made you help me bring the brooms in. You were only an innocent bystander of the fun.” Ominis faces you, his milky eyes dancing.
“I was only an innocent bystander because my flying always proves disastrous.”
“You have flown?” You repeat almost as if you do not believe the words yourself. Letting out a light chuckle, Ominis tries in vain to appear offended.
“Of course I’ve flown. I am a wizard afterall.” Throwing your hands up mock dispare you retort,
“Beg your pardon, oh grand wizard Gaunt.” Raising an eyebrow he approaches his finger and thumb lightly holding your chin so that your face is angled towards him. Heart racing at the contact you can feel heat rising to your cheeks.
“Do you doubt my abilities?” He murmurs nearly into your partially open mouth, as he closes the gap between the two of you. You swallow nervously, losing all ability to come up with a witty comeback entranced by his movements.
“You two busy?” Imeldia, who is standing in the doorway, asks with a hearty laugh. Hands immediately leave your face as Ominis retreats to a respectable distance while you awkwardly cough into your hand.
Warm, yellow, rays of sunshine casts sleepy shadows on Ominis as he dozes in a corridor. Nearly stepping on him while you trudge down the hall, arms full of books, you stop and smile at his sleeping bundle. He looks so peaceful curled up in the sunshine. How long he has been sleeping there? You ponder setting your books down on the ground you sit next to him; grabbing the book at the top of your stack you begin to read.
An hour of blissful studying passes until the sun has sunk low enough in the sky that Ominis’ patch of sun no longer is yielding its warmth. A frown spreads across Ominis face as he awakes with a lazy “yawn.” Sitting up he stretches then freezes as he becomes aware of your presence.
“Just me.” You call out, causing his shoulders to relax.
“Watching me while I sleep now?” He teases.
“I only stayed because I almost stepped on you and I was worried someone else would.” Ominis scoots over where you are sitting, he turns to you intently.
“Thank you.” At the feeling of his knee brushing against your own your stomach dives into a nervous summersault.
“Any time” you mumble putting your hands to your hot cheeks. Sensing your nerves Ominis smiles, then places a hand on the wall behind you as he leans in close.
“Let me thank you.” Your heart pounds as he moves in, almost pressing his lips to your own. Amit clears his throat loudly. Back straightening Ominis sits up.
“Good evening MC, Ominis. Pleasant clear weather we are having. I suspect it will be a good night for stargazing.” Amit babbles nervously as he walks past the two of you in the hall.
After spending an afternoon chasing down lacewing flies, you and Ominis make your way back towards the castle. The sun has begun to set and you can feel the chill night air start to push out the afternoon warmth.
“I am glad we caught the last of what we needed when we did. It's starting to get chilly.” You remark wrapping your arms around yourself as you walk.
“I told you that it was going to cool off.” He chides. With a small huff you argue,
“I did not want to lug my robe around all day.”
“So you did not even bring your robe?”
“No, it was so warm this afternoon I did not think I would need it.” You whine excuses rubbing your cold bare arms.
“Honestly, MC sometimes I feel you are the most helpless witch I have ever met.” Ominis moves closer, putting an arm over your shoulder he pulls you under his own cloak. The scent of his piney cologne fills your senses. You try to ignore the feeling of his arm never leaving your shoulder, assuming your face must put tomatoes to shame. As the two of you walk you are pressed against his body huddling under his cloak. Just before you are back at the castle Ominis stops. Spun around so around so that your head is against his chest, you can hear Ominis‘ heart pound.Fingers tenderly comb through your hair as he holds you.
“MC I…” his thoughts are interrupted by Duncan crossing the lawn calling your name loudly. Tuning towards Duncan with the full force of his wrath Ominis begins to lay into the confused boy.
“Couldn’t you see we were in the middle of something? I swear Dumcan, one must try very hard to be as annoying as you are! Go! Shoo!” Turning on his heel the miserable ravenclaw runs back towards the castle.
360 notes · View notes
moonbeamwritings · 5 months
new year’s kiss
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wc: 2.0k
pairing: gojo x gn!reader
warnings: gojo is his own warning, getting tipsy/drunk together
Throughout your years as a jujutsu sorcerer, being away from home is something that you can never quite get used to, especially not during the holidays, and especially not with Satoru Gojo as your traveling companion. Three days earlier, you and Gojo had been tasked with exorcizing curses in Sapporo — a simple, in and out style mission. Gojo deals with the larger, deadlier curse, while you deal with the smaller ones. A one-two punch. Easy.
“I like when you tag along, my trusty assistant,” he’d told you with one of his familiar self-assured smirks.
And you’d wanted to refuse the mission — he’s Satoru Gojo, after all. What could he possibly need you for? But when you went home later that night to get some things together, you wondered if even the strongest men get lonely sometimes, and with the way your heart tugged in your chest at the thought, you knew you couldn’t leave him alone.
So now you’re stuck sitting next to Gojo at the bar in the lobby of your hotel, nursing some sickeningly sweet cocktail as the wind whips just outside the windows, throwing snow through the air like bullets and bringing visibility down to a firm zero. You had a lot of ideas for how your New Year’s Eve would go, and this certainly wasn’t one of them. No good deed goes unpunished, after all.
“And you can’t use your teleportation because?”
You can already feel annoyance itching at your skin before Gojo even slings his arm around the back of your stool, fingertips skimming over the fabric of your sweater as he does. He smirks, peering at you over the dark frames of his sunglasses. Even inside, at night, they’re perched proudly on the bridge of his nose. “Because isn’t this more fun? Stuck in a hotel together, waiting out the storm on New Year’s Eve.” He leans closer as if to prove his point. “It’s like a romance novel. So dramatic!”
“Do you, like, get some sick enjoyment out of making my life miserable?”
Misery comes in all forms — your line of work has shown you as much. Your personal brand of misery takes human form in Satoru Gojo. What with his obnoxious self-confidence and inclination to tease. With the smug way he smiles or the annoyingly perfect way his hair sits across his forehead. He’s terrible, the most annoying man you’ve ever had the displeasure of working with. You want to throttle him or beat his ass, anything to make him zip it for even so much as a second. And a part of you, deep, deep down, also wants to kiss him on the mouth, though you’re not sure you can bring yourself to admit as much — at least not out loud.
The grin Gojo fixes you with is lazy and teasing. “Awww, come on,” he croons, pulling you by the shoulder to tuck you close to his side. “Cut me a little slack, huh? You know I love you.”
You remind yourself you’re supposed to be annoyed with him for leaving you stuck here, not focusing on the distracting way his pretty blue eyes sparkle beneath the lights overhead or the way his long, lithe fingers curl around an expensive glass of gin. Or the perfect way you fit against his side, the comforting smell of his cologne.
But you’re already too far gone, and you know it.
You roll your eyes, pushing at him in a futile attempt to get him to leave you alone. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Now, get off.”
“I like this, though,” he pouts, making a big show of pretending to be hurt by your insistence. “Have you seen the weather outside? It’s freezing. I need your body heat to sustain me!”
“But we’re inside. It’s perfectly warm in here.”
He doesn’t move. “You’re no fun. How about this? We’ll make a deal.” 
“A deal?”
“Mhm.” He seems all too pleased with whatever’s swirling around in that strange noggin of his that you almost don’t want to know what he’s thinking. Almost. “You stay here with me, keep me all nice and toasty,” he goes as far as to hook his foot around the leg of your stool to pull you that much closer. “And drinks will be on me.” With the new proximity, your faces are dangerously close together, leaving your mouth dry and face hot. 
“How does that sound? Fair trade?”
When you don’t answer right away, he pushes his glasses up onto his head. He juts his lip out, making his eyes wide and watery and propping his chin in his hands to really sell the sad, lonely puppy look he’s going for. You sigh when you find that it’s more cute than annoying. He’s such a pain in the ass.
“Fine,” your eyes narrow as you point a stern finger in his direction, “but no funny business.”
He smirks, holding his palm up to you, “Sorcerer's honor.”
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The problem with sweet specialty cocktails like the ones on the hotel’s bar menu is that you can’t taste the alcohol. The dangers and bitter taste of hard liquor are always hidden behind fancy glasses and saccharine goodness, masked by fruit juices, syrups, and sodas. They hit you before you even realize it, and suddenly you’re drunk and your tummy feels a little funny.
And as you blearily peer at the clock behind the bar — 11:55PM — you come to that very sobering realization. You’re not drunk, not completely, but your joints feel loose and your brain feels less wrinkled than it was an hour ago. You’re tipsy enough that you drop your head against Gojo’s shoulder without a second thought, and that’s enough to show you you’ve had more than you expected to.
Gojo’s not much better off. He’s got his own little collection of empty glasses on the bar in front of him, cheeks now a flushed, rosy pink. His arm has migrated from the back of your chair to right around your shoulders, his free hand hanging right in your peripheral vision.
You take another sip of your drink and set your sights on his fingers. They look a little lonely, you muse in your alcohol addled mind. What kind of person would you be if you left them like that? And on New Year’s Eve, no less. You’re not a monster.
You bring your hands up to fiddle with his fingers, holding his pinky in one hand and his pointer finger in the other before moving to pinch each digit between your pointer finger and thumb. It’s a mindless activity that distracts you from the alcohol and the almost possessive way Gojo keeps his foot looped around your chair and arm around your shoulders.
“You havin’ fun over there?”
You finally decided to weave your fingers through his and skirt your thumb along the back of his hand. His skin is smooth and soft beneath your fingertips. “Mhm.”
“You want another drink?”
Glancing at the clock again, you watch the numbers swim a bit before you blink. 11:58PM. “No, thanks.”
“M’kay.” He signals for the bartender and closes his tab with one resolute signature, dropping a few extra bills onto the counter as a tip. When he’s done, he pulls your hand up to his mouth and kisses the back of it before turning his attention back to the TV. The simple, almost nonchalant motion stirs butterflies in your stomach.
The alcohol has made you pliant, has dulled the sharp edges of annoyance that had tinged your nerves just an hour ago. You’re practically putty in Gojo’s hands now, so different from before that he can’t hide his dopey grin and warm cheeks. He’s just as bad, Gojo thinks as he nuzzles his cheek against your hair and squeezes your hand in his. Gin has stoked the flames that burn deep in his belly, and Gojo knows that the more he becomes acquainted with your touch, the more his resolve will falter. He’ll never be able to get enough. He won’t be satisfied until he memorizes every inch of your skin and every angle of your soul, and even then he’ll want more. Always more. 
Gojo thinks he deserves it. He deserves to be greedy. He deserves to put his heart on his sleeve and let it be held, let himself be held. You lose so much, give up so much when you’re a man like Satoru Gojo that he feels as if the universe owes him this tiny victory. It’s the least it can do for the hell it’s put him through.
And it’s that same selfish, yearning desire that forces a question from his throat like the snow falling outside. Fast and reckless. “Can I tell you a secret?”
You pull your head from his shoulder to meet his gaze, eager to be in on a smidge of unexpected gossip. “What is it?”
Gojo drinks in your undivided attention like ambrosia. The fire continues to rage, burning him from the inside out. “I’ve never had a New Year’s kiss before.”
The clock behind the bar flickers and turns — 11:59 PM — though neither of you are paying much mind to the time. 
The butterflies in your stomach multiply, fluttering up between your ribs and around your lungs, bringing the dull buzz of excitement with them. “Really?”
“Really.” He leans closer to you, and watches as your lips part, tongue darting out to wet them.
“I’d think a guy like you would have people lining up for a chance.” 
Gojo hangs onto your every word, playing over each syllable as he prays the sweet little cocktails you’ve been sipping on loosen your lips just a little more. “A guy like me?”
You shrug like you can’t find the right words. Hesitant. “You know what I mean.”
“I don’t know if I do, sweetheart,” You catch a hint of gin on his breath as his lips inch towards yours. When he’s close, but not quite there, Gojo’s voice dips into a purr, eyes drooping to fix you with a sultry, half-lidded expression. “Will you explain it to me? What kind of guy am I?”
Gone is the alcohol-fueled confidence that had you cuddled up to his side, taken over by a bashfulness that pulls Gojo’s lips into a smirk. You shift in your seat, but don’t back away. Your hand stays laced with his. You can do this. “You’re handsome and strong. Witty. Kind when you want to be.”
You can’t look him in the eye, not anymore, but you nod, fingers nervously fidgeting in his own. “Yeah.”
Gojo’s heart starts to pound as the room breaks out in a chant. He feels pressed for time, frantic. Like if he doesn’t kiss you at midnight he might never get the chance again. He can’t mess this up.”I always thought you found me annoying.”
You giggle, the air tickling Gojo’s lips as you do. “You annoy me when you tease me, but I’d be lying if I said I didn’t like it.”
“You’re not.”
He grins and the sight of it makes you smile, too. “No, not really.”
The chant of the countdown fills the beat of silence that lingers between you. Risking a glance between his eyes and the pout of his lips, you bring yourself to ask, “Do you think you’ll have any luck this year? With the kiss and all.”
“Mm, I hope so. There’s someone I’ve really got my eye on.”
“Do I know them?”
“I think you might.”
The hotel lobby ceases to exist the moment the clock strikes twelve, and just as it bursts into cheers and Happy New Year’s, Gojo’s lips meet yours. The kiss is a hungry, clumsy mess that tastes like a devilish mix of hard liquor and cranberry juice. You savor every bit of it. Gojo’s hand slips from yours to cradle your cheek in his palm, touch featherlight and overwhelmingly gentle.
When he finally pulls away, Gojo’s face breaks into a grin, his long fingers brushing against the hair at the nape of your neck. “What did I tell you? A romance novel.”
The roll of your eyes is immediate, a knee jerk response. “Just shut up and kiss me.”
“So bossy.”
The next kiss is chaste, sweet. One that has your teeth bumping together as you grin into it. And this time when he pulls away, Gojo only has one thing to say, “Happy New Year, sweetheart.”
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magicchai · 7 months
🍂 walk through the orange leaves — blurbs with autumn-themed prompts - drowning in oversized sweaters with steve
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pairings ; steve harrington x reader 
warnings ; pet names, nothing but fluff.
word count ; 773
additional notes ; ‘drowning in oversized sweaters’ prompt used. thank you, bubba, stevie in sweaters is something i need to see </33
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steve never wears knitted sweaters, more of a sweatshirt wearing man or just a plain jacket if he’s cold. he has a nice style, tons of polo shirts or pretty coloured sweatshirts you usually find yourself coddled against.
so, you’re shocked to say in the least when you’re eyes land on a forest green sweater in his wardrobe, among a few others hidden beside it. you had been looking for your favourite yellow sweatshirt of his, knowing he didn’t put it in his laundry last night. yet, once your fingers gently grip the sleeve, your eyes see the cable knit design pushed to the very edge of the closet, a knitted material intriguing you.
steve is asleep in the bed metres away, heavy breaths indicating how tired and in dire need he is for a long lie, extra shifts meaning on his days off he really wants to do nothing at all. only if nothing at all is spent with you.
he forgot to close the window last night, the early november chill waking you up despite the warm embrace of steve against your back. therefore leading you to his wardrobe for extra warmth, knitwear you assumed wasn’t an option so seeing it made your heart swell while your hand tugs it off the hanger and into your awaiting palms.
despite steve never wearing it, among all his other clothing items it still smelt irretrievably steve. you slipped it on, feeling like your drowning in it as your hands don’t read the ends of the sleeves and the hem fits to your mid-thigh.
immediately you felt warmer in your boyfriends knitted sweater, his cologne swam across the material as you inhaled it with need, wrapping your arms around yourself as you turn to a voice. steve lay on his back, arm sprawled where you were only moments before.
the duvet was splayed across his waist, left with his shirtless self to freeze in the cold while his matted hair covered his tired eyes, heavy but watching you fondly, “you suit that.” you smile at your boyfriend, looking at his top half bare before turning to grip one of the extra ones beside, a lone burnt orange sweater that he could wear to battle the cold weather of steve’s large, cold house.
“i didn’t know you had any sweaters, you never wear them,” you walk back towards the bed, kneeling on your side of the bed while ushering for steve to sit up. he groans at you, begrudgingly sitting his palms on either side of his hips before pushing himself to sit straight.
instinctively, steve raises his arms while you ruffle the material to pull over his head, desperate to keep your boyfriend warm all-the-while seeing him in such cosy attire so early in a cold-morning.
once it’s fitting over his head, he pecks your lips sweetly, “never thought i suited them,” steve shrugs. that’s complete rubbish, you think, looking to your boyfriend now looking as warm as ever. “you look so handsome, baby,” you assure, leaning forward to kiss him again, steve reaching a hand to hold your jaw before slowly laying back in bed, you laying atop him in the process.
“you look prettier in this, honey,” steve assures, pinching the material at your shoulder with a tired smile, drinking in the sight of you dressed in his stuff, murmuring to himself, “so so pretty.”
“it’s far too big on me, you’re too tall,” you respond, finger scratching the stubble across his lower face, ready to be shaved in the hours later when you both decide to leave bed. steve chuckles, leaning into your touch and using one arm to wrap around your back and pull you further against him, free hand reaching the duvet to pull back over both your frames.
pressing a kiss to your forehead, steve smiles at you so softly you felt you might melt away, “love you in my clothes, jesus. love you, i love you so much.” his tired eyes fail to fight against the rising sun as he closes them, tilting his palm to peck the pads of your fingers barely escaping his sweatshirt sleeve and you giggle at the tickled contact.
“can we stay in here all day?” you ask him, nose nudging the space under his jaw as you cosy into him, ready to fall back asleep and steve hums approvingly at the thought. “seeing you dressed like that drives me crazy, i might never let you go.”
neither of you thought to close the window, soaking up in wearing sweatshirts and lounging in bed against each other the rest of the day.
taglist form . the library . all blurbs
steve harrington; masterlist
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gamingfanatic23 · 5 months
•purely my own thoughts bc it’s been super cold and snowy where I live•
A/N - I’m writing this as if you two have known each other for awhile, but recently started to date. SFW! Also, it has been a hot minute since I’ve written anything. Any tips or comments are appreciated! I USED GOOGLE TRANSLATE, if anyone knows anything better please tell me!!! Any suggestions are appreciated, I’m writing sick head cannons next 😊
König Winter Headcannons
• Before getting together, you would have a heated blanket and little room heater in your bedroom. After meeting König and getting a place, sharing a bed on the first night, the heated blanket and heater didn’t make it through the night due to you turning it off. The man is a walking heater and who needs those when you’ve got the best?
• You were running into town for some groceries to stock up due to the upcoming inclement weather, the temperatures would continue to drop with snow and ice coming soon. Asking him to come with as you were getting ready, and how can he tell you no?Absolutelt loves to watch you get ready but was not prepared for the extensive winter layers that were needed for you to maintain warmth, had to hold back his laughter. After the third layer of clothing and preparing to add more, he offered to lend one of his favorite hoodies, throwing it into the dryer to get warmed up for you.
• Gratefully, you raised your arms up for him to slip it over you, sneaking a kiss on your nose as he lowered to pull the rest of the hoodie down on you. You snuggling into the hoodie, loving the hints of his cologne you could catch whisps of (unbeknownst to you he had actually spritz it a couple of times) (a/n I firmly believe this man has a little bit of possessive/insecurity and if his partner smells like him, it helps reassure him).
• Getting to the store was easy, but seeing how busy it was made you nervous due to König’s social anxiety. Although the crowds were out of your control, guilt still invaded you. Normally you tended to go very early in the morning when there wouldn’t be many people, but it seemed everyone had the same idea. Turning to apologize and offering to go in without him or come back later, as you didn’t want to push him or make him uncomfortable. He smiles and thanks you, reassuring both of you that he will be fine, if he needs to leave he’ll signal by asking for the keys.
• The trip goes without a hitch outside of it being crowded, impatient people, and long lines. You both let out a sigh of relief once you leave and reach your shared home, just in time to watch the first few snow flurries fall from the sky. Getting out of the vehicle and looking up into the sky, allowing the flurries to kiss your skin and decorate your hair. Unknown to you, while you were enjoying this little moment, König was watching and enjoying his own moment of peace and quiet, the life and normalcy of your relationship. Pulling you out of your trance, he embraces you from behind and circles his arms around your middle, resting his chin on top of your head.
• Staying this way for a moment, both of you enjoying the peacefulness before having to break it in order to bring the groceries in. However the snow started to pick up and come down harder and heavier. Rushing to get everything put up and away, you failed to notice König making a small and steady supply of snowballs when he seemed to take longer than normal bringing the necessities in. it wasn’t until your lover asked for your assistance with the last of the groceries that you started to catch on, knowing you had brought the last of the bags inside.
• Trying to asses the situation, slowly sticking your head outside, you noticed a few piles of snowballs here and there. However. you couldn’t dodge the first snowball in the attack as you made a break for the closest snowball pile near you. Laughing and giggling like schoolchildren, you both threw snowballs and built make shifts forts until settling down to build snowmen and other snow creatures. It wasn’t until you noticed he was watching you that you stopped working on your snowman, looking at him and smiling. He leans down and kisses your nose, gasping “Liebling! Your nose is so cold, let me see your hands.” Taking your hands out of your gloves, concern lacing his voice. “Schatz baby, please, let us go inside and get you warmed up.” Before you could protest, wanting to make the statement he must also be cold, he picks you up and carries you inside, placing you on the couch as he grabs blankets.
• Settling next to you, he wastes no time pulling you into his lap, with your back to his chest, resting his head on your shoulder. You made a mental note that your shoulder may be his favorite place to rest his head when cuddling, as it seems to gravitate to the spot if given the chance. He takes your hands and brings them to his lips, warming them up with his breath and sneaking kisses onto your fingers. Slipping a kiss on your ears and cheeks, claiming to warm them up for you. You knew he was still a little shy with showing affection, so you didn’t press or call him out on his reasons. You weren’t his first relationship, but from what he had disclosed to you so far, he considered this to be the first serious relationship he’s ever had.
• It wasn’t until you started to lull into sleep that you heard him whisper sweet nothings to you in his mother tongue, some parts in English. Feeling a heat cross your cheeks you knew you were blushing, you reciprocated his words with your own, though you didn’t receive a response. Leaning your head back, you realized he had been talking in his sleep. An elated feeling crept across you as you enjoyed the realization to yourself. Staying this way a moment, before bringing yourself to get up and make the two of you hot chocolate and soup.
• (A/N I firmly believe Königs love languages are words of affirmations and acts of service)
• Rummaging through the pantry and cabinets, you start making homemade hot chocolate and soup. Hearing the gentle snores from the couch, you smile to yourself and begin making dinner. It isn’t until after everything is prepared that you hear him slowly begin to wake. Making a bowl and mug, you bring him his food and drink.
• “Danke meine liebe. Oh mein Gott, das ist erstaunlich, mein kleiner Koch”. You smiled and giggled to yourself, sometimes König would speak his native tongue not realizing it in the moment. You had started to pick up on certain words and phrases. All you could figure is that he really enjoyed the meal and drink, which is more than you could ask for. Little praises made you feel better about yourself and your abilities to provide.
• Cleaning the kitchen, putting away leftovers, you both wind down and get your respective showers before slipping into your comfy clothes. Crawling into bed and assuming the cuddle position, you both begin to drift off into sleep as the weather outside starts to pick up. Turning over and gently kissing his chin, you whisper goodnight and how thankful you are for him. Wrapping his arms around you, pulling you closer, König kisses your forehead “Goodnight my sweet, thank you for being my angel and taking care of me.” Burying your head into his chest, you both fall asleep as the wind picks up and snow dances outside the window.
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froga-yaga · 5 months
❄️-Christmas headcanons-❄️
Pairing: Tangerine x Reader 
(I need this okay, so this ones for me)
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Warnings: None 
❄.·˙ ---- ˙·.❄
Tangerine would for sure take you Christmas shopping 
Wouldn’t actually enjoy it but would follow you as you go around from store to store buying  Christmas presents 
Tangerine would only buy something for Lemon and keep an eye out if you found something you liked (he’d come back later without you and get it) 
He’s one of those people who say that he doesn’t need anything if you ask him what he wants for Christmas
You could ask Lemon if his brother has been looking at anything new recently 
But in the end Tangerine would like anything as long as it shows that you thought of him
Would not go ice skating with you even if you wanted but would go to a ski resort
I feel like Tangerine is a white and gold Christmas person, it fits his classy aesthetic (Lemon is for sure a red Christmas person) 
Likes mulled wine
Loves watching you open the gifts he gave you
He’s so bad at wrapping presents (he’d ask Lemon to do it bc he’s so much better at it)
Would totally wear matching pyjamas with you, you know like the luxury silk sets 
Tangerine wouldn’t mind basic gifts as long as they’re something he uses like a new bottle of cologne, moustache oil, new brass knuckles, you know basic gifts 
Actually prefers the colder weather bc it means he can dress in more layers and use wool coats 
It also means he can pull you closer to himself more often to keep you warm 
Not a huge Christmas person but doesn’t ‘not like’ it either
Would love coming home from a job and seeing that you decorated the place, he likes seeing your touch around him 
Would put up a Christmas tree if you asked, you could go pick it up together (Imagine him carrying that tree ugh <3 ) 
Not that good at baking but would help you with cooking 
Would spoil you with gifts and chocolates
If he has a job during the holidays, he’d send you pictures of him and lemon and buy some Christmas themed souvenirs to bring home 
Will dance with you in the living room to romantic Christmas music 
Cuddles in the cold mornings 
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scintillasofbeomgyu · 9 months
➷ young luv | p.js
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pairing: park jongseong x reader.
synopsis: coming home to your boyfriend after a rough day at work, you realize that no matter how crazy life gets, he will always be your person.
genres: fluff, established relationship, this is domestic AF.
word count: 1,1k.
warnings: food, jay ☹️.
an: jay ☹️☹️☹️🫶🏻
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a wave of relief washes over you as you step into the comfort of your home. the weather and a horrible day at work had left you feeling drained and achey. you kick off your shoes and hobble down the hall, pain pressing into the muscles in your legs.
you’re certain he has a built in sensor, because, as soon as the pain becomes too much, jay has appeared from somewhere in the house and has taken you into his arms. you light up and smile into the warmth of his chest, taking in the best smell in the word; cologne, cedarwood, the absolute love of your life.
“hey, baby.” he leaves a kiss in the spot he spoke into your hair, “i missed you.” you snuggle closer to him, unwilling to detach yourself from him, ever. his arms tighten and all your stress, worry and the pressure float away with a sigh.
“i missed you too.”
as if on cue, you feel warmth rub up against your legs. you grin and peer down at your cats, biscuit and bellatrix, looking up to you with sparkling green eyes blinking a slow hello. you step away from jay, the only reason you would, to bend down and give them head and chin rubs. pain shoots to your thighs, but you grit your teeth.
“did you miss me too, my loves?” you coo, and they hop up against you enthusiastically.
jay kneels down beside you and sighs, brushing a hand along biscuit’s back. “they only ever behave when you’re around. this boy was drinking out of the toilet again—God alone knows how he got in there when we leave it shut for exactly that reason.”
you chuckle, a warmth fluttering in your chest. there was something about these small moments that made you feel like the luckiest person in the world. and you were, to have your beautiful little family. you and jay and biscuit and bellatrix. your family.
but before you can revel in being together again after a few days any further, you’re lifted from the floor and back into your boyfriend’s arms. “what’s happening right now?” you arch a brow, but latch your arms around his neck and make yourself comfortable.
he drops a kiss to your temple, but says nothing. he sets you onto the bed and disappears into the bathroom for a moment. when he returns, his right sleeve is pushed up to below his elbow and water glistens off his arm. you chest aches with realization.
he removes your jacket and hands you a fresh towel and your jammies. “bath time, baby.” he says, and lifts you again, carrying you there. he helps you in, and you sigh into the warm, soothing water. “i’m going to finish up dinner. you take your time, okay? make sure to rub those legs.”
you’re blinking back tears when he brushes a kiss against your forehead. you’re not sure what you’ve done to deserve jay, his love. you had spent your life thinking you’d never have the kind of love you’d read about in books. and while your life with him was no stranger to perilous ups and downs, you couldn’t help but feel that what you had with him was far better than any fairytale.
when you finish your bath, and your muscles are feeling a lot more relaxed, you slip into your fluffy pjs and set off to the kitchen. the aroma of spices and something cooking makes your mouth water and your tummy rumble.
the table was set on the low table in the living room to your left, and jay was in the kitchen on your right. you watch him work from the hallway for a bit. his dark hair effortlessly kempt, his sweater that does nothing to hide the flexing muscles underneath, the focused frown on his face. you watch until you start feeling a little jealous of the apron hugging his waist, so you tiptoe up behind him and wrap your arms around his torso.
“i don’t think i should leave this apartment ever again,” you say into his back, eyes fluttering closed to the warmth there.
his low chuckle vibrates against your cheek, “you say the same thing every night, sweetheart.”
he turns around so you’re hugging his front and his arms drape across your shoulders. you pout, “but i mean it this time. minwoo is a jerk.”
“the infamous minwoo,” jay sighs, pulling you close before rubbing a hand down your back. “you’re not ready for me and the boys to pull up yet?”
you roll your eyes, but a smirk tugs at your lips. “and do what, park jongseong? have jake and sunghoon talk him to death?”
“it’d work,” he shrugs and you laugh.
he finishes up dinner, which, hell yeah, tastes just as mouthwatering as it looks. fresh, homemade lasanga with, yup, you guessed it, homemade garlic bread. your favourite.
you plop down on the cushions at the foot of the table and gobble down your food, sharing the details of your day with jay and he listens. you tell him how minwoo had belittled you once again for being the youngest of the team leaders at the consultancy, and how some of the other men treated you like a glorified PA which makes him frown and revisit the idea to hire a hitman. he dishes you another plate then the roles reverse and he tells you about practice. how things are getting alot more intense because their tour is coming up, but he enjoys how alive it makes him feel. you love how his eyes light up when he talks about his job. your little star.
when you try to help him with the dishes, like he does every other day he’s home, he sits you on the counter and says, “just sit there and look pretty.” and, like every other day, you swoon. you don’t know how he expects you to survive when he’s gone, when he never lets you do a single thing.
when he’s finished, he lays you on the couch and sits beside you, pulling your legs into his lap. he turns on the tv and gently begins massaging your legs. you watch him, the light from whatever’s playing on the screen highlighting his chiseled features. you fear he may be tired, but there is nothing other than pure contentment written on his face. like there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.
“i love you.” you say, meaning every single word.
he stops for a moment and leans into the back of the sofa, eyes locked onto yours. something swims in his almost-black eyes and your heart ignites. he grins, throwing you a wink.
“i love you too, baby. always.”
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multifandomfanfic · 1 year
Ma do a smut for bradley bradshaw where you’re iceman’s youngest daughter and he fucks you in your room when everyone is home🙏🙏
Home Sweet Home
Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x fem! Reader
Warnings: smut, language, unprotected sex, voyeurism, female masturbation, overstimulation, oral (m! Receiving), choking, praise kink, begging
Word Count: 6k
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It was always a bittersweet experience returning home. On one hand, I had the pleasure of seeing all my relatives, both distant and close. On the other hand, I was reminded of happier times in my childhood when all I had to worry about was getting an A on my upcoming math exam.
At the Kazansky household, things were always packed. My father was adamant about inviting everyone in the family and filling our house to the brim with happy people who were ready to have a good time.
I mostly mingled with people I liked and avoided those who were overbearing and insisted on showering me with all kinds of unnecessary affection. Call me crazy, but the prospect of being hugged and kissed by a complete stranger (who swore they changed my diaper when I was a baby) did not appeal to me in the least.
It was that time of night, so I grabbed whatever drink my father was serving and moved to the back of the house to keep an eye on the other guests. Anyone looking to strike up a conversation with me would find me being a wallflower in the back corner of whatever room everyone was congregating in.
Tonight was a particularly trying night. My father had invited so many people that the party felt cramped rather than lively. In the back of the room, I assumed my usual position. Instead of ignoring me and resuming their conversations, people bumped into me, pushed past me, or got in my way when all I wanted to do was watch from afar and listen in on the juicy gossip.
“I gotta get out of here.”
I muttered to myself as I searched the area for my father. He was mingling with a few of his friends, holding a large glass of wine.
I pushed my way past various groups of people who were discussing a variety of topics, ranging from politics to their newly planted garden. A mix of high-end colognes and low-cost perfumes drifted through the air, creating a perplexing aroma that jumbled my thoughts.
God, it seemed like the situation was growing worse by the second.
My shoulder brushed up against the back of a man who appeared to be in a state of confusion.
I apologized, despite the fact that he had walked right in front of me.
Through the cacophony of voices, I called out.
He was completely absorbed in the conversation and was unable to hear my voice.
After taking a few more steps towards him, I called again.
He heard me this time. He spun his head around on his neck, searching for the source of the voice. His shoulders sprung up into an excited position as his gaze landed on me, his eyes brightening with anticipation of what I had to say.
“Hey! I’m gonna step outside for a little while. I need some fresh air.”
My father smiled and gave me a small pat on the shoulder. I returned his grin and began moving through the crowds until, after what seemed like a ten-day journey, I arrived at the front door.
I ecstatically exclaimed, relieved to be free of the throngs of people. I flung the door open and inhaled the soft autumn breeze, which smelled of rustic terrain and freshly fallen leaves.
I gently closed the door behind me, taking care not to attract unwanted attention as I steered clear of the suffocating crowds.
I started walking down the suburban streets, with no particular destination in mind. I took both right and left turns.
Today's weather was especially lovely. It was warm enough that I could get away with wearing a short-sleeved shirt and shorts. It wasn't hot enough, though, to make the great outdoors stuffy and unpleasant. This day was made even better by the addition of a gentle breeze.
The birds in the trees chirped peacefully, and slowed my footsteps so I could hear their lovely songs. I stood there watching them communicate with each other in the shade of a large oak tree, smiling as they expressed their love for each other.
I said to myself, placing my hands in the pockets of my jean shorts.
Someone just said my name, I swear. But it was faint, almost inaudible. I assumed it was all in my head, a mere figment of my imagination.
The call had become much more audible. It wasn't something I could have imagined.
I swiveled my head around, anxiously scanning the street for the source of the voice. Fortunately, I didn't have to look very hard.
There was a tall, extremely muscular man standing in his front lawn, waving at me with a thick mustache perched on his upper lip.
“What the hell?”
The sun glinted off his immaculately sculpted abdomen, which appeared to be carved from stone.
I cocked my brow.
Wait a minute.
Is that who I thought it was?
There's no way.
There’s no way in hell.
My brows furrowed in perplexity as I screamed his name.
The man laughed hysterically, his muscular shoulders bouncing with each chuckle.
“I thought you wouldn’t recognize me, Y/N.”
This yelling was starting to irritate me.
“Come over here and let’s talk!”
Bradley snatched his white shirt from the floor and threw it on, then adjusted his black aviator sunglasses before sprinting over to me across the empty street.
I wouldn't believe he was Bradley Bradshaw if he didn't know my name.
“Hey Y/N.”
He spoke with his hands on either side of his hips as he stared down at me, his eyes hidden behind the black lenses of his sunglasses. I could only assume he was looking me in the eyes.
I exclaimed.
I couldn't stop myself from sliding my gaze over his now fully developed body.
“My God! You look so much different!”
Bradley laughed and threw his head back, revealing his adam's apple as well as a few well-defined veins protruding on either side of his neck.
“I assume you're complimenting me.”
His perfectly sculpted body, and that deep, husky voice. When did he become so...
“Yes! You look great!”
Bradley gave me a friendly smile. His entire body was coated in a thin layer of moisture, so I assumed he had been exercising in the lovely autumn weather.
“Oh! There’s a party at my dad’s house if you’d like to join.”
Despite not knowing which direction led back to my house, I pointed to the left.
Bradley smiled even bigger, displaying his flawless set of pearly white teeth.
“That sounds like fun! I’ll be glad to see your old man again!”
“What do you mean again?”
I asked, one of my brows cocked.
“Oh! I’m in the navy. I fly planes.”
Well, that explains the perfect body.
I raised my brows in surprise and crossed my arms over my chest.
“What?! How am I just hearing about this now?!”
I exclaimed in surprise. Bradley was following in his old man’s footsteps. Why did it take so long for me to receive the good news? Both my father and him neglected to tell me, I suppose.
“Well, to be fair, we haven’t seen each other in quite a long time.”
I tucked my bottom lip under my top teeth.
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I meant to contact you again, but I guess time really did just slip away from me.”
I rubbed a hand across my face, irritated with myself.
“I’m really sorry Brad. I just graduated from college, and got an apprenticeship, and then I got a new job, and then I moved out…”
Bradley raised his hand to silence me.
“Don’t worry about it Y/N.”
He assured me that my forgetfulness was understandable.
I motioned for him to come closer.
“Come on, walk with me to the party and give me all the new life updates. I’m anxious to hear about you.”
We took our time walking, not in a hurry to get to the party.
He told me everything about his life, the navy, and his friends, down to the smallest detail. And I listened intently the entire time, making sure to ask questions to show him I was fully engaged in the conversation.
I didn't have a clue where I was going. Thankfully, Bradley (or should I say, Rooster) knew how to get from his house to mine. I'd be completely lost if it weren't for his assistance.
“That’s about it.”
He said, as we reached the front of my porch.
“Wow. That’s super cool.”
I cast a sidelong glance at my house's front facade. From the street, I could hear a low hum of activity.
“Do you wanna go inside?”
I inquired, my gaze returning to his jet black aviators. Rooster smiled and nodded.
In an overly formal manner, he extended his elbow to me. I scoffed at his absurdity, my arm catching on the underside of his elbow.
We exchanged a few glances before he led me up the front steps of my porch, releasing his arm once we were both at the front door. Rooster reached for the doorknob and twisted it until it clicked. He bowed his head and motioned for me to enter the room with a sense of artificial formality.
“Thank you, good sir.”
He flashed me a smirk before I stepped through the threshold, returning to the bustling house.
I took up my old spot in the back of the room. Only now did I have something to occupy my time.
While Rooster was busy conversing with others, I cast glances at him. He had a lot of charisma and could start a conversation with almost anyone who crossed his path.
This was excellent for me because it gave me plenty of time to admire his gleaming biceps from afar while he was distracted by others.
How is it possible for one man to be so flawless?
To begin with, his perfectly toned muscles would attract the attention of any man or woman.
But, even if he didn't have such a fantastic body, his magnificent smile was enough to make any girl weak at the knees.
And, if he didn’t have the body or the smile, his charisma was enough to entice any woman into bed with him.
He possessed all of the necessary qualities: intelligence, charisma, and a stunning physical appearance.
Many years ago, when we were close friends, I admired him.
I was consumed by a burning desire for him now, which was ignited every time he flashed his famous smile or flexed one of his many toned muscles.
But I wouldn't go too far with my speculation. Because a man like that is unquestionably taken. And if he wasn't taken, he was talking to someone who could easily become more than an acquaintance.
So, until I knew otherwise, I would admire him from afar.
Rooster began mingling with my father. However, due to my father's inability to communicate effectively, he mostly asked him yes or no questions. Nonetheless, he and my father appeared to be thoroughly enjoying the conversation.
Therefore, this was the ideal opportunity to catch a glimpse of his stunning appearance.
I was deep in thought and admiring him when I noticed his body shifting. He was turning around.
He was staring at me, observing how I was taking in every inch of him. Through the dark lenses of his sunglasses, I made eye contact with him.
I didn't get a chance to notice the expression he was making because my cheeks turned bright red and I averted my gaze from him faster than the speed of sound.
I hope he didn't take my stare too seriously.
Is it getting hot in here?
Maybe it’s all the people crammed into a tight space.
I should separate myself from the group once more to regain my composure.
I pushed through the crowds of people huddled in conversation, muttering apologies as needed.
Oh God, it was growing hotter by the second.
As I raced up the stairwell, searching the halls for my room, I tried not to appear rushed. I needed a relaxing environment. Before rejoining the party, I needed to take a few deep breaths to calm my racing heart.
Above all, I had to get away from Bradley.
I flung open my bedroom door, softly closing it behind me so as not to disturb the party. I dashed to my bed, sat on the edge, and stared off into space.
Shit. If Brad questions me about the staring, what am I going to say?
I dismissed any worries with a shake of my head.
He’s a cool guy. Most likely, he'll dismiss it or laugh at me for openly admiring him.
To take my mind off of Bradley, I took a deep breath and grabbed a picture frame from my nightstand. The photo was taken about ten years ago and shows me and my father standing in front of a plane. I believe the plane was an old F-14, built in his days of flying.
It was a lovely photo and one of my favorites, so I kept it on my nightstand for safe keeping. I smiled to myself as I remembered my father's exhilarating stories about his days in the air.
My door squeaked open, jolting me out of my stupor. My ears perked up as I searched for the source of the noise.
Oh, shit.
“Hey Y/N.”
He smiled as he closed the door behind him.
"Hello," I said as I re-positioned the photograph on my nightstand.
“What are you doing up here?”
I asked, forcing myself to look him in the eyes.
His aviator sunglasses had been removed from his face, and I could now see his eyes perfectly.
Rooster rested his back against my wall, his arms crossed over his broad chest.
“I was just wondering if there was anything you’d like to say to me.”
I asked, my head cocked to the side, pretending to be perplexed.
“I don’t think I know what you’re talking about.”
I tried to laugh, hoping to relieve some of the tension that had accumulated around us.
“Let me jog your memory a little.”
He began, take one long stride forward.
“Care to explain to me why you were eye fucking me the entire night?”
Oh God.
I’m fucked.
“Well I just…”
I knew it was pointless to act stupid. He'd already discovered what I'd worked so hard to keep hidden.
“I just haven’t seen you in forever and you look so different. I guess I couldn’t help but check you out.”
I laughed, hoping Rooster would follow suit and chuckle with me.
But he didn’t.
He didn’t move a muscle.
His stare was becoming increasingly menacing. To avoid his intense presence, I just wanted to crawl under my covers and disappear completly from sight.
My mouth dried up. I swallowed, my throat constricting quickly due to the increasing tension. I felt as if I were gradually sinking beneath the surface of the ocean, with a large amount of water pressure gradually building as I sank lower and lower under his probing eyes.
Then, Rooster cracked a smile.
It wasn't a happy, playful grin, though.
It was sinister, as if he had something hidden up his sleeves.
Rooster took another stride forward, his long legs bringing him only about two feet from me.
God, I was on fire. My heart was racing around my ribcage, and my lower abdomen was filled with dozens of large butterflies that bounced around my stomach like they'd consumed a bunch of caffeine.
I opened my mouth to speak, but no words spilled from my lips despite my best efforts. I sat with my jaw open like a complete moron, intertwining my fingers to hide how badly my hands were shaking.
What was going on inside his brain?!
Why was he staring at me as if he expected me to say something?!
What the hell was going on?!
“Take off your clothes.”
He demanded, his face settling into a neutral expression as he analyzed me.
I chuckled nervously, still trying to convince myself that this whole situation was a complete joke.
“I’m not going to repeat myself.”
I waited.
I waited for him to laugh, throw his head back in amusement, and tell me he should've seen my face.
But that moment never came. He stood confidently in front of me, his arms crossed across his well-defined chest, patiently waiting for me to follow his orders as his intense eyes stared down at me like a hawk watching it’s prey.
I swallowed, staring at him through my lashes as I grasped the hem of my shirt, bringing it over my head and gently letting it fall to the floor.
Rooster kept his gaze fixed on me until I removed my bra. Then he allowed his eyes to wander along the curves of my upper body, his breath hitching in his throat as he took in the spectacle in front of him.
I stood, undoing my jeans and trying not to think about his eyes scrutinizing every curve and detail of my exposed body. I pushed my jean shorts and panties down until they sagged and pooled around my ankles.
I sat down on the edge of my bed, kicking my jean shorts to the side, my physique now completely exposed to his gaze.
I clenched my thighs together, a sharp ache forming between my legs. The desire to grind my hips against the rough fabric of my old croqueted quilt was strong.
But I knew I had to save my desire for Rooster.
I shifted my gaze from my lap, to Rooster, who quietly took a few more steps forward until I was eye level with his thick leather belt. All of my anxieties and fears went straight to my cunt, adding to intense ache that was gradually building with every lustful glance from Rooster.
As I stared up at him in awe, he placed a calloused palm against my cheek, tenderly cupping my face. My hands fidgeted in my lap as I resisted the urge to spread my legs open and thrust my fingers inside my soaking wet heat.
Rooster trailed his thick thumb along my bottom lip, keeping a neutral expression to avoid giving me any clues as to what was going on inside his lovely mind. He cocked his head to the side, his gaze scrutinizing every feature of my face.
Rooster slipped his thumb between my lips and into my mouth. I wrapped my lips around the base of his thumb, hollowing my cheeks and sucking harshly, the tip of my tongue tracing every wrinkle.
Rooster hummed contentedly, pulling his thumb almost completely out of my mouth before thrusting it back towards my throat, simulating what he would do to my throbbing cunt.
I coated his entire thumb with warm saliva as I dragged my tongue along every nook and cranny.
“I bet you want my cock in your pretty little mouth right about now, don’t you sweet girl?”
I tried to speak, oblivious to the fact that my mouth was full of his thick thumb.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full, it’s impolite.”
His voice slipped off his lips like a true womanizer, his tone dripping with heavy desire.
“If you wanna suck my cock you gotta take my pants off.”
I maintained eye contact with him as I continued to suck his thumb, my hands scrambling against the rough fabric of his jeans until I found the metal buckle on his thick leather belt. I undid it with stable hands, as all my nerves were trapped inside my cunt.
I pulled his jeans and tight boxers down just enough for his semi hard cock to spring free from its confines.
I wrapped my hand around his thick shaft and gave it a few pumps, feeling it harden in my grasp. Rooster hissed through his teeth as I continued to pleasure him with my soft palm.
Bradley pulled his thumb from my mouth, releasing his grip on my face and moving his hand to my hair, harshly grasping the roots.
He thrusted my face forward, my gaze torn away from his deep brown eyes. My eyes met his cock, a jolt of pleasure rushing to my cunt as I realized how girthy he was.
This was gonna be a long night.
I grasped his cock with one hand, bringing his swollen pink tip to my mouth, slipping him in between my plush lips.
I could taste his salty precum lingering on my tongue as I took as much of him as I could into my mouth.
Rooster gasped in pleasure, using his grip on my hair to thrust my face forward and backwards along his dick.
I placed my hands on his thighs, feeling his thick muscles ripple under my touch everytime he jerked his hips forward to meet the quick movements of my mouth.
He murmured, his tone husky.
“That’s my good girl. You have such a pretty mouth.”
I shifted my hips against the rough fabric of my quilt, attempting to alleviate the aching pain building inside of me.
The quilt brushed against my clit, eliciting a deep moan from the back of my throat, sending vibrations directly to Rooster’s cock.
I allowed my jaw to fall slack as the movements of Rooster’s hand became increasingly more desperate. His hips violently jerked forward every time he pulled my face towards his pubic bone, his swollen tip smacking against the back of my throat with every desperate thrust.
He sighed.
“You’re such a good girl for me.”
His brows were knitted in desire as I nearly choked around his throbbing length. Veins began to bulge along his cock, and in a desperate attempt to pleasure him I ran my tongue along the thick veins.
The grip Rooster had on my hair was so tight that I could feel the strands being ripped straight from my scalp.
“I bet your little pussy is aching for my cock.”
I hummed in agreement, sending a second wave of vibrations along his length.
Rooster gasped, his jaw dropping as his cock began to throb uncontrollably inside my warm mouth.
“Fuck baby, you’re making me crazy.”
His tone begged his own body to let go of the pressure in his lower abdomen. But he wouldn’t allow himself to release his hot cum into my mouth, not just yet.
Rooster wanted to be in charge, but it was becoming increasingly difficult for him to maintain composure as he reached the brink of an orgasm.
“I’m gonna cum in your mouth pretty girl.”
He said, the salty taste of precum became very prevalent on my tongue as his length throbbed inside my mouth, his thighs trembling under my hands.
Rooster threw his head back as he released his cum into my mouth, his grip loosening as he finally reached his much awaited orgasm.
“Your fucking mouth is perfect.”
He released my roots, a few detached strands of my hair wrapped around his thick fingers.
I swallowed the majority of his cum, a single strand falling down the corner of my mouth.
Rooster cupped my face with his hand, swiping his thumb along my mouth and cleaning my face in the process.
“You’re making a mess sweetheart.”
He mumbled, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his composure, hiding the true extent of his lust.
I whispered once all of his cum had vanished from my mouth.
Rooster smirked slyly, tilting his head downwards to meet my gaze.
“Tell me how badly you want my cock inside of you. I wanna hear you beg for it.”
I was never a big fan of begging.
But I've never been more desperate for someone in my entire life. My entire lower abdomen was throbbing with the desire to be filled by Rooster's thick cock.
I swallowed, fidgeting with my fingers as my pussy clenched desperately around nothing.
“Please Bradley. I need you.”
My voice was soft, but I prayed it was sufficient for him. Rooster raised his eyebrows.
“What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”
He used the grip on my chin to tilt my neck backwards, allowing me to look straight into his deep brown eyes.
I gulped.
“Please Bradley. I need you to fuck me. I need your cock throbbing inside me.”
I was begging pitifully, but at this point I’d do anything to have him bulging inside of my soaking wet pussy.
My nails dug into his muscular thighs, leaving crescent moon shapes in their wake.
“Keep going pretty girl. I wanna hear just how desperate you are.”
My bottom lip trembled in eagerness as the anticipation began to become overwhelming.
I began, the use of his call sign igniting a fire in his eyes.
“Rooster I’m aching for you, please. Please fuck me I need to feel you. I need to feel your-“
He hushed me, placing his thumb over my mouth to silence my voice.
“I think that’s enough. Why don’t you touch yourself for me while I get naked.”
I knitted my brows, confused.
Rooster smirked, cocking his head to the side.
“Oh come on pretty girl you just told me you were aching. Why don’t you take care of yourself for a little while until I’m ready for you.”
His resonance had shifted to the back of his throat, giving his tone a deep and husky quality.
I mumbled.
“Good girl. Make yourself feel good for me.”
Rooster took a step back, his pants halfway down his thighs as he fixed his gaze on my naked body. I threw my legs on top of my bed and shifted my weight until my back was pressed against the headboard so Rooster had the perfect view of my face.
I spread my legs, bending my legs as a soft breeze blew through the air and brushed against my soaking heat.
I didn’t want to achieve my release just yet. Instead of bringing my fingers directly to my clit, I gently massage my breasts with both hands, squeezing my eyes shut as my nipples hardened under my fingertips.
I gasped, focusing all my attention on the pleasure and not Rooster’s crushing gaze.
When my breasts were satisfied with the amount of attention I had given them, I moved my soft fingertips down my body, across my stomach until I found my swollen clit.
I ground my hips against my hand, my chest heaving desperately as I trapped my bottom lip under my top teeth.
“Oh my god.”
I panted, tracing soft figure eights around my sensitive bud.
The ache in my pussy began to diminish, my body satisfied that I had finally listened to its pleas.
All thoughts of Rooster had been pushed from my mind, the pleasure clouding my brain.
I was embarrassingly close to my release, the intense foreplay making me hungry for an orgasm.
My back arched off the bed as I pushed two fingers past my folds.
I furrowed my brows, throwing my head back against the headboard as I thrusted my fingers against my spongy walls, coating my fingers with my juices.
I was so close. So painfully close. One more thrust of my fingers and I would be cumming all around my digits.
A strong grip wrapped around both of my ankles, halting my movements and pulling me forward until my head lay comfortably on my pillows.
My eyes shot open, noticing Rooster at the foot of my bed, his hard cock leaking precum.
“Alright pretty girl, that’s enough of that.”
He crawled over me, his chest flush against mine as his hot breath fanned across my face.
Rooster grabbed the hand buried deep within my pussy, removing it from my heat and bringing my fingers to his gorgeous mouth.
I gulped as he pushed two of my wrinkled fingers past his plush lips, hollowing his cheeks to suck the juices off my hand.
“Fuck. You taste amazing.”
He released my wrist, allowing it to fall in whatever position I deemed comfortable.
“I can’t wait to fuck you.”
Rooster buried his face in the crook of my neck, his perfect teeth nibbling on my earlobe as he grabbed his cock with one hand, lining it up with my soaking wet entrance.
I enveloped his shoulders with my arms, pulling him impossibly closer so I could feel every inch of him as he fucked me into the bed.
Rooster rolled his hips forward, slipping his cock in between my folds.
I dug my nails into his prominent shoulder blades as he bottomed out inside of me, his cock stretching my walls to the brim.
“Is it big enough for you pretty girl?”
Rooster's mustache tickled my neck as his ragged breaths bounced around my head, sending me into a state of nirvana.
“Yes. Your cock is perfect.”
I wheezed, suddenly unable to fully fill my lungs due to the fullness of my cunt.
“Please start moving Rooster.”
Rooster placed a gentle kiss on the side of my neck, sucking a bright purple hickey into my throat as he snapped his hips forward.
I dropped my jaw in pleasure as Rooster bottomed out inside of me with every single thrust, a loud smack erupting with every single jerk of his hips.
I could feel his toned abdomen flexing every time he buried his thick cock deep within my soaked walls.
“You’re such a good girl for me.”
Rooster mumbled, placing his tongue on the bright purple hickey he created with his glorious mouth.
“You’re taking my cock so well.”
His words rushed to my cunt, pulling the imaginary coil even tighter.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, giving Rooster a new angle for his swollen tip to slam against my g spot with every intense thrust.
I threw my head back in pleasure, exposing my neck for Rooster to kiss to his liking.
“God, you’re so fucking tight. I wish I fucked your pretty little pussy sooner.”
I gasped, feeling myself reach the brink of my orgasm.
“Rooster. I’m gonna cum.”
The building veins along Rooster's cock began to throb inside my walls, stretching my pussy even further.
“Cum all over my cock pretty girl.”
“Rooster, do you think they can-“
Bradley wrapped his large hand around my neck, squeezing my throat and limiting my airflow enough to make me dizzy with euphoria.
He anticipated my question and didn't want to ruin the moment.
Who cares if anyone could hear us?
Rooster certainly didn’t.
“Be a good girl for me and cum around my cock.”
His face was hovering over me, his gaze boring into my eyes as he watched me intently, attempting to capture this moment for later fantasies.
His thick fingers around my neck, restricting my airflow at his authority.
His cock violently pumping in and out of my soaking wet cunt.
My face contorting into whatever pleasurable expression came naturally.
A thin layer of sweat coats both of us, wet bodies moving together in unison.
One particularly ferocious snap of his hips sent me straight into a state of elation, my eyes rolling back into my head so far that I swear I saw my brain.
I tangled one of my hands in his sandy locks, pulling the roots as I attempted to bring my mind back from its post orgasmic daze.
But Rooster wouldn’t let me.
Rooster leaned back on his knees, grabbing my hips and forcefully spinning me around until my face was pressed into the quilt, my ass in the air.
“I know you got one more for me, pretty girl.”
My overstimulated walls cried out for pity, but I ignored every sign in my body that told me to stop.
I wanted to cum again for him.
Rooster used one of hands to grip the soft flesh of my hips, his dull nails digging into my skin as his opposite hand snaked down to wrap around my neck.
I gasped as he wrapped his large hand around my throat, once again launching my body into a senseless state of nirvana.
I wheezed, gripping the quilt so tightly that my knuckles turned white.
Rooster pulled my hips back to meet his fierce thrusts, the sounds of sex reverberating throughout the room as he fucked me into the sheets.
His swollen tip slammed against my g spot with every single thrust, the intense stretch of my walls making me shake with overstimulation.
“God you’re such a good girl for me Y/N.”
The praise brought me even closer to my second, much more intense orgasm, the rough quilt rubbing against my face with every merciless snap of Rooster’s hips.
Tears of pleasure began to collect at the corners of my eyes.
I was close, so close.
The tension that was previously building in only my lower abdomen had now spread to my entire body. I was tight, tense waiting for the release that I prayed Rooster would allow me to receive.
“Rooster… I’m gonna cum again.”
Rooster growled lowly, his cock vibrating as the sound reverberated throughout his entire figure.
I cried out with want everytime Rooster buried himself inside of me, hoping nobody paid enough attention to the mess of moans coming from my bedroom.
I begged.
Rooster pulled me upwards. He pressed my back flush against his toned chest, his hand moving from the back of the neck to my front, finding my clit and massaging it with his calloused fingertips. His other hand desperately grabbed at the flesh on my thigh.
I threw my head back against his shoulder, arching my back away from his body as my orgasm ripped through me with the gentlest touch from his skilled fingers.
I shouted, my pussy clenching around his cock.
Rooster grumbled directly into my ear, and with one twitch, he spilled his hot cum inside of me, painting my walls.
Bradley inhaled sharply.
“Oh my fuck… you’re such a good girl for me.”
Rooster thrusted a few more times into me, ensuring we both got the most out of our orgasm.
I collapsed against him, finally reaching my breaking point.
Rooster chuckled.
“Are you tired?”
He asked, fake pity in his tone, using both of his strong arms to hold me upright.
“Yes. That was… a lot.”
Rooster brushed a strand of hair away from my face as he gently laid me on my back.
“You can rest. I’ll go down and tell everyone you’re too tired to rejoin the fun.”
I smiled.
“That'd be great.”
Rooster grabbed a rag from my bathroom, cleaning me up as our combined juices almost completely coated my inner thighs.
I laid there watching, analyzing every muscle and movement of his body as he dressed himself.
“Do I look good?”
He inquired, displaying his unremarkable outfit of a white shirt, jeans, and vintage Converse.
I chuckled.
“You look perfect. Definitely like you didn’t just have the best sex of your life.”
Rooster smirked.
He rooster was second from leaving, half of his body out of the threshold when I called him back.
“Wait! Bradley!”
Rooster spun around, poking his head through the door frame.
“Wait do you like being called in bed. Bradshaw, Bradley, or Rooster?”
Rooster ran his tongue over his bottom lip as he pondered my question.
He said with a huge, cheeky smile on his absolutely stunning face.
I rolled my eyes and waved him away.
“Get out of here I’ve had enough of you.”
Bradley laughed and showed me his perfect set of teeth.
“I’ll be back in ten minutes. Don’t miss me too much.”
He winked slyly before disappearing through the threshold, gently shutting the door behind him until the lock clicked into place.
Ten minutes, starting now.
(Hope y’all enjoyed. Lmk what you think about this one! :)
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Xavier Thorpe x reader (y/n)
Warnings; none, no spoilers :)
Word Count: 1097
Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4
Part 1 summary: You are a poltergeist with the powers of invisibility (cloaking), levitation and pyrotechnics. You come across Xavier's shed in the woods and spend the evening hanging out with him.
Author notes: we're going to pretend Ajax is Xaviers roommate this year, and roommates can change with each year! Thank you for all the likes on my first post (first ever posted fic!!), drop any comments if you have any idea where I should take this fic!
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You and Xavier stayed in the shed until the early hours of the morning, at this point the rain was much heavier, dripping water slowly came through cracks in the shed. Xavier already had a few buckets dotted around designated to hold the water. You both agreed to call it a night and head back to the dorms.
Xavier insisted on walking you back to your room, although it was more of a run back due to the weather. Xavier draped his arm over your shoulder, in an attempt to protect you from the rain. By the time you both got to the academy you were drenched. The boys dorms were closer than the girls, you and Xavier both agreed to find shelter there and deal with the outcomes later. You cloaked yourself nearer to the rooms just to be safe, Xavier always left a window open to make sure he could sneak back in.
Xavier held the window open for you, letting you in first, you uncloaked on your way in, you knew it would be safe. The only potential issue would be Ajax - Xavier's roommate, but you and Ajax had a decent friendship, you sat next to each other in Latin, and on far more than one occasion you had seen Ajax peaking at your notes, something you allowed your friend to do.
You were rushed into the bathroom by Xavier, it was away from Ajax’s side of the room, you both looked up and down at each other noticing how your clothes were completely soaked. You began laughing, Xavier looked at you and began laughing too, your laughs were infectious to each other. His laugh echoed along the bathroom walls, you had to put your hand over his mouth and shush him, which only made the both of you laugh even more.
Xavier slipped out the bathroom to get changed, he brought you in a baggy sweater and a pair of his boxers to let you change into. You could already tell the clothes would in no way fit. You waited for Xavier to leave the room and started to get changed, your body was covered in goosebumps from the cold wet clothes, you slipped the jumper over your body, you were right. The jumper almost reached your knees. You glanced at yourself in the bathroom mirror, your hair was pulled back into two plaits, these would be okay for the night at least, Xavier's jumper actually suited you quite well you thought.
You headed back into the bedroom, Xavier was sitting on the edge of the bed waiting for you. The one positive of attending a rich boarding school is that the beds were generally a little larger than a standard single, don't get me wrong the idea of being squeezed next to Xavier all night wasn't the worst thought in the world, but you could only imagine what Bianca would think of the situation. You sat down next to Xavier, the warmth emitting off him could warm your body up in seconds, he looked across at you, noticing the goosebumps that still hadn't quite vanished. 
“Here, come get warm” Xavier pulled back the quilt on his bed, motioning for you to get in. You obliged, embracing the warmth that now surrounded you. Xavier pulled himself into the bed next to you, his one arm slid underneath your neck, the other lay on your thigh. Xaviers bed sheets made you feel safe, the woody smell of Xaviers cologne covered the sheets, only getting stronger the longer you were in bed together. 
“Is that better?” Xavier asked you, you nodded, your eyes were starting to get heavy, you could tell you would be asleep very soon. You turned to face Xavier, even lying down he seemed to tower over you, your head was so close to being buried in his chest, but first you checked, “Is this okay?” You asked Xavier. 
“Of course it is, why wouldn't it be?”
“Because of Bianca.”
“Well actually, I’ve been meaning to mention, she, us were not a thing anymore” Xavier paused, “that’s actually why I was in the shed tonight, needed a distraction”.
“Oh Xav, I'm sorry”, you really did feel bad for him, you might not have been close with Xavier but he and Bianca always looked happy together.
“Honestly, it's fine, it was never going to work out”, Xavier whispered, “anyway you should get some sleep”, Xavier brushed a strand of hair out of your face, placing his hand back down on your hip. You pulled in closer to him, leaning your head on his chest, it wasn't long until you were unconscious.
Sunlight peeked through the curtains of Xaviers room, you squinted as you came to, trying to make out the surroundings in the daylight. You could hear rushing water coming from the shower, you glanced over and Ajax appeared to not be in his bed, you realised Xavier wasn't in his either.
The shower cut off, and minutes later Xavier was in the doorway, his trousers were on and he was buttoning his shirt up, you glanced over and were unable to take your eyes away until Xavier spoke up “Like what you see?” he teased. 
You snapped out of it, “Guess I've woken up to worse”, you laughed. “What time is it?”.
“8:15, you've got 45 minutes before classes start, Ajax has already headed down to breakfast” Xavier answered. 
You groaned, flopping your head back onto Xaviers pillow, you completely forgot what day it was and that you had classes. Xavier reached his hand out, helping you up out of bed, only when you were standing did you realise you might as well have been wearing nothing on your bottoms, Xaviers boxers had ridden up your legs showing off most of your thigh. You grabbed your joggers from the back of Xaviers chair and pulled them on quickly. “Hope you don't mind me wearing this out”, you asked Xavier while indicating the jumper and boxers, Xavier shrugged it off. 
You cloaked yourself on the way out, you would be in so much trouble if anyone spotted you, student or staff. Once you got back to your room you showered in a hurry and changed into your uniform, you just about had time to put a bit of makeup on and grab a breakfast bar on your way to class. You realised on your way out, your first class of the day was Botanical Science, you haven't even done your homework and a certain someone was going to be in that class.
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delicateflowerss · 2 months
Don't Worry, Darling: Four
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After marrying the love of your life, Rafe Cameron, you thought you couldn't be happier. But when a murder shakes the island, you learn you don't know your husband as well as you thought. When does Paradise become Hell?
Warnings: 18+, eventual NON-CON, mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of murder, dark!Rafe, mentions of grief/loss, kook!reader, non-canon ages
Word Count: 3.8k
Series Masterlist
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“Chase was a bright, young man who had his entire life in front of him. He was loved by many, a son, and a husband. He treated everyone with kindness, constantly going out of his way to help someone in need.”
You recognized the man speaking as a friend and co-worker of Chase’s. He decided to step in and give a eulogy as Chase’s family is still too upset to be able to speak in front of a crowd.
“Forgiveness was in his nature, never holding a grudge and always seeing the best in people. Everyone has done something they’re not proud of, he would say, but it’s how a person deals with those things that shows their true character.”
You reach up to wipe the perspiration forming on your brow. The warm weather sticks to your skin while there’s not a cloud to protect you from the relentless sun. It doesn’t exactly match the morose air surrounding the sea of black attire.
Your eyes linger on the casket lying before everyone. You heard whispers that it’s almost empty, only the few remains the police could find in the marshes rest in it.
The gators got most of him.
Honestly, you find it strange that Chase’s friend would mention forgiveness, and his penchant for giving it.
Would he forgive the person who murdered him and dumped his body to be eaten?
You thought you were of the forgiving nature also. Now you’re not so sure.
This might be the closest you’ve been to him in days. You can feel the fabric of his suit jacket brushing against your arm, and the scent of his woodsy cologne fills your senses.
He’s been wearing this look of guilt since the incident. Glancing at him through the corner of your eye, you can tell the look is still there. Subtle to everyone else, but you see the pain tracing his features.
That expression alone has made you want to forgive him so many times. It’s almost like every time he looks at you, all he sees is what he did.
It makes your heart clench, thinking he feels so bad that it hurts him.
The problem is, he hasn’t apologized. You can tell he wants to, the words on the tip of his tongue.
Instead, he does what he does best, avoid.
So now you both are in a stalemate, barely seeing each other. Rafe has made a home on the couch, but he works late anyway, getting home when you’re going to sleep.
Is this what it feels like to know your love is dying, withering away.
A fight between you and Rafe has never gone on for this long, but he also has never snapped at you like that, genuinely scaring you.
You feel a bit stupid, knowing about his temper and the violence he’s enacted on others in the past.
You just thought you lived in a part of his heart that none of those things would ever corrupt.
What you don’t know is how difficult it has been on him to be apart from you.
Instinctively, his fingers twitch to hold your hand, or to at least feel your skin against his. He wants to wrap an arm around you, protecting you from the cruel world of death and despair.
But he can’t protect you from himself.
After the funeral, everyone gave their condolences to Chase’s wife and family. You think the entirety of Figure Eight was at the funeral, from Rafe’s family to your friends.
You had never seen everyone so somber. Your chest felt heavy as you did the same, finding it hard to look at his normally cheery wife, now a sobbing mess, her cries filled with an ache that no one could try and fix.
Rafe could barely look at her as he did his best with his supposed consolations.
As you and your husband walked away from the ceremony, you caught Shoupe’s eye, an odd feeling of being watched coming over you.
You try to forget about it as you drive up to Tannyhill, keeping your promise to take Wheezie shopping.
Part of you thinks it feels wrong to still be doing Midsummers, the sound of Lauren’s cries still playing in your head. All you have to worry about is what dress you’re going to wear. She has to worry about how she’s going to live the rest of her life without her husband.
But Midsummers isn’t stopping for her, the preparations already underway.
Wheezie greets you with a huge grin as she gets in your car. She has a lot to say about a boy she has a crush on, thinking he likes her too.
You’re happy that she thinks highly enough of you to want to tell you all this, and by the time you two get to the boutique, she’s told you everything you need to know.
“What if we get married?” She asks, a hush falling over her voice as your eyes rake over the dresses.
“It could happen. But I think you need to talk to him first,” you lightly suggest, smiling.
She thinks for a second, not really paying attention to the clothes.
“You and my brother started dating in high school, right?” Genuine curiosity laces her tone.
Your mood shifts a little at the mention of Rafe, but you play it off, swallowing before replying, “yeah. Senior year.”
“Wow. You must really love him,” she comments.
You keep your eyes on the dress in front of you, pretending to be interested in the fabric.
“What does it feel like?”
“Hm?” You finally look over at her, confused.
“To be in love?” She clarifies, eyes set on you.
You sigh, thinking for a moment. If you were to tell her the truth, it could fracture her innocent perception of love.
So, you give her the shortened version.
“It feels like…you care about someone else’s feelings more than your own.”
You almost wince when you finish your sentence, worrying what you said was still too much. But she looks satisfied, nodding as she mulls over your words.
What you said is true, but you didn’t tell her how crushing the feeling is to care about someone like that. It’s like being pushed off a cliff to your death, and all you can do is fall.
“Why don’t you try this one on?” You recommend, holding up the dress you were looking at.
You instantly recognize the truck parked outside your house as you pull into your driveway, just getting home from dropping Wheezie off with a brand-new dress.
He’s walking back to his truck by the time you’re out of your car.
“I was wondering why I hadn’t been invited in,” he says, setting his equipment on the curb. “I thought maybe you changed your mind about me being ‘nice to talk to’.” JJ waves his fingers, curling them into air quotes, a pearly white smile on his face.
“I was just taking Wheezie shopping for Midsummers,” you explain.
“Oh, every Kook’s favorite event.”
You give an unconvincing smile at his remark.
“You not excited?” He asks, his smile disappearing. He starts to put his equipment back in his truck.
“It’s just different this year. It kind of feels like it shouldn’t be happening,” you say with your arms crossed, eyes drifting to the ground under you.
He turns his attention back to you, leaning an arm against the side of the bed of his pickup, thinking.
“Is it cause of that guy who was killed?” He asks casually, blue eyes set on you.
Surprise crosses your face, and you don’t even have to say anything for JJ to notice.
“What? You think I hadn’t heard?” His lip curls up into a smirk. “The whole island knows.”
“Well, I knew him. He worked with Rafe.” The solemness in your voice contrasts with his nonchalance.
“Shit,” he sighs out. “I didn’t know that.”
After a moment, he laughs a little, shaking his head.
“What?” You ask, interested.
The smile is wiped off his face.
“Sorry, it’s not funny,” he quickly says. “It’s just, it’s all people can talk about, you know? Maybe it’s because he was murdered but…it happens more than you think,” he considers, eyes scanning your face. “People only care because he was rich. If he was from The Cut, no one would give a fuck.”
You pull your brows together, the thought never occurring to you.
“Are you saying people are murdered all the time and I just never hear about it?”
He nods, eyebrows raised. “Pretty much. Maybe not all the time,” he adds. “But there’s a lot of shady business that happens on this island.” He looks at your house for a second, something flashing across his face. “But people like that do a better job at hiding it. Whoever killed your friend was sloppy,” he says, eyes finding yours.
“I mean the gators were a good idea. But they obviously didn’t clean up well enough. How else do the police know a murder happened?”
Your lips part, intently listening to JJ’s rambling.
He continues with his stream of consciousness, “whoever did this was probably in a panic, which means this was their first time. Maybe they didn’t even plan it. They’re probably impulsive, have a temper.”
“You’ve really thought a lot about this. You should go work for the police,” you say, smiling a little.
He lets out a sarcastic laugh. “Funny,” he sharply says. “I’m sure I’m not saying anything they don’t already know. Of course, who knows with them.” JJ shrugs his shoulders, walking to the driver’s side of the truck.
After you tell him bye, you’re left with a sinking feeling, wanting nothing more than to push any thoughts of Chase’s murder out of your mind.
It doesn’t matter how long you stare in the mirror. You can’t fix the melancholy that sits in your eyes.
Even as you smile, it’s still there.
Your eyes move to the dress you wear, hands following the feel of the fabric, fingers running over the pearl color.
You turn a little, noticing how the dress is unzipped. You try to reach for the zipper, but you struggle to grab it.
“Need some help?”
A deep voice interrupts your movements, a type of gravelly you’ve come to miss in the last week.
You find his reflection in the mirror, leaning against the doorway of the bedroom. His hair is slightly tousled, and his white button-up is open, revealing his sculpted chest that is normally covered by a polo. His stare feels heavy as he drinks you in.
All you do is meet his gaze in the mirror, letting your arm fall by your side, and he makes his way over to you.
You start to feel more aware of your breathing as you feel his body heat behind you. Something he’s done a million times feels new again, or at least different.
He slowly tugs the zipper up, and before it reaches the top, he brushes his fingers against the nape of your neck, moving your hair out of the way.
Closing your eyes momentarily, you can’t help but want more of his touch, almost like you’ve missed it.
You expect him to step away from you, but when he wraps a strong arm around the front of your neck, a gasp leaves your throat.
He keeps you there, soft lips finding the side of your hair. He breathes you in, and you feel safe and protected being enveloped by him, the feeling you’ve been craving. And for a second, it makes you forget he was the one to make you feel anything otherwise.
He swallows, his voice shaky around the words that leave his mouth, “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Y/N.”
You shift and his arm falls from you, a ghost of his touch on your waist instead.
Guilt is written on his face, that same pained look you’ve been trying to avoid this past week.
“I just want you to know,” he begins as you lock eyes. “I would never hurt you.” His voice is thick with emotion, but a soberness grounds it, making you believe him. “I don’t want you to think…” He shakes his head, his blue eyes turning into pools of unshed tears.
You feel that same weight in your chest and before you can reach out to comfort him, he continues, “I don’t want you to think I could ever do something like that to you.”
“I know. I know,” you assure him, and you don’t think about it as you step closer, burying your face into him, inhaling the traces of his scent that you’ve missed.
It’s only a second later when you feel his arms hold you closer.
“I’m also sorry about what I said. I didn’t mean it,” he rasps out. “You know how it is with my dad and-.”
“It’s okay,” you cut him off with soothing words.
“I just care about you so much,” he whispers, tears finally falling.
“I know,” you mumble back, shutting your eyes as you feel the reprieve you’ve been longing for, in his arms.
After a minute, he pulls back a little and you see the evidence of his anguish running down his face.
“Sometimes I feel like I don’t deserve you.”
As soon as the words are out of his mouth, you protest.
“No. No, you do, Rafe.”
He shakes his head, sniffling.
“I love you. I’ll always love you,” you say gently, making him meet your eyes again.
He watches you for a moment, your promise sinking in.
“Always?” He asks.
“For better or worse, remember?”
You can see the guilt wash away, the crease in his forehead disappearing. He seems relieved.
When he gets closer, you expect him to kiss you. Instead, he presses his lips to your forehead, a loving touch that makes your eyelids flutter.
It’s something you usually don’t get from him.
“I love you too.”
The words are a whisper on your skin.
The sun is slipping below the horizon when you and your husband arrive at Midsummers, the sky orange while lights twinkle around dancing bodies.
A heaviness lingers in the air, blanketing everyone in a warmth that some despise, and others find freeing. A hot summer night with no obligations, just excitement blowing in the wind.
Rafe’s hand stays on the small of your back as you make your way through everyone’s wandering eyes.
It’s something you’ve gotten used to, how people talk about the Cameron’s more than any other family on the island.
You’re not sure where it comes from, either a sort of envy or an admiration.
All you know is people started to treat you differently when you started dating Rafe. They watched you more, talked to you more. Surprisingly, people were nicer, but you could tell there was an insincerity underneath their smiles and kind words.
As you shy away from the attention, Rafe almost welcomes it.
He doesn’t mind their stares, especially when it comes to you.
Since senior year, there has never been a party or event where Rafe doesn’t arrive with his hand on some part of you.
He was always the jealous type, you learned that quickly. But when it comes to people being jealous of him, he enjoys it.
All you can do is take it as a compliment.
The first thing Rafe does when he spots his family is greet his father.
They seem to be on better terms since Ward pulled Rafe aside the other night and gave him a promotion. You can tell in the way Ward regards his son, almost like he sees him in a new light, like he’s finally enough.
You wonder why the sudden change, what did Rafe do to finally prove himself?
You do your best to ignore how your stomach twists, thinking about how the fight between you and Rafe happened because of his eagerness to please his father.
If Rafe finally got what he wanted, then you’re happy for him.
You find Wheezie standing alongside Ward and Rose, and you don’t hesitate to tell her how beautiful she looks in her new dress.
“Thank you, Y/N. You do too.” She gives a bashful smile before her eyes move away from you. You see the nervousness cross her face.
“What is it?” You ask, looking to see what she’s looking at.
She seems a bit surprised that you noticed her quick glances.
“It’s just…” She lowers her voice, moving closer to you. “…Connor’s over there.”
“Oh,” you say, quickly catching on. Of course, her crush would be here, her need to impress making more sense.
“Go talk to him,” you encourage her.
“I don’t know,” she says hesitantly.
“You’ll never know if you don’t try.”
She stares at you for a moment before nodding, determination written on her face.
You give her a reassuring smile before you watch the curly haired girl approach him.
You sip from your third Mai Tai, not feeling the hours pass you by, vanishing into the darkness of the night.
You’ve spotted Sarah dancing with John B, surprised she was able to drag him to an event like this. But you also know she doesn’t want to be here either, just making her father happy.
It must run in the family.
You didn’t bother her, just catching her eye as she grinned at you.
Your mind is already feeling hazy as a lazy smile is painted on your lips, doing your best to listen to what your friends are saying.
It doesn’t help that the music is loud, making it harder to hear their voices.
“It was the worst date I’ve ever been on,” Audrey remarks, grimacing as the memory comes back to her.
“That shouldn’t mean you’re never going on another one. There are a ton of nice guys you haven’t met yet,” Caroline points out.
“Who haven’t I met?”
You turn your head away from them, finding your husband standing under the yellow lights, illuminating the sharp angles of his face. He’s a little taller than the people surrounding him and you watch him take a sip of whiskey, cradling the glass between his fingers.
He laughs a little at something someone says, you think it was Kelce.
Your smile grows at that.
You don’t know if it’s the alcohol or the overwhelming emotions of the day making you feel so…in love with him.
“What about Topper?”
Your attention is diverted at that, wondering what Caroline is talking about.
“Topper?” Audrey asks.
“Come on. I know you have a thing for him.”
“I do not,” Audrey protests but the slight curve of her lips say otherwise.
“I’m sure Y/N could ask Rafe to put in a good word for you,” Caroline says, looking over at you.
Before you can respond, a loud voice cuts through the bubbly atmosphere.
A familiar voice.
“What the fuck did you just say to me?”
He’s still in the same spot as earlier, now inching closer to someone you can’t see through the crowd of people.
“You’re not going to get away with it, Rafe. Everyone knows you were the last one to see him alive,” a man calls out.
It takes you a moment, but you recognize him as Chase’s friend, the one who spoke at his funeral.
It takes you another moment to realize what he’s implying.
Rafe falters for a split second, then his face is practically in a snarl, staring at this man through seething eyes.
You watch his hand curl into a fist, getting closer to him.
“What makes you think you can say that to my face? You fucking liar,” he spits out, and before he can reach him, he’s stopped by Topper and Kelce on either side of him. Topper’s now holding what you guess is Rafe’s whiskey glass.
Your mind is working faster than your body, so all you can do is watch, confused about what is exactly happening.
The man gives Rafe a searing glare before he walks away, Rafe still yelling at him.
By the time you reach Rafe, Topper and Kelce have let go of him, and you don’t miss the glace they give each other.
You swallow as you find everyone else standing still, having seen the entire thing. People are murmuring to each other before the music slowly starts playing again.
His jaw is still clenched, but his eyes soften a little when he sees you.
“Rafe, what is going on?” You ask, still shaken up.
If you were more sober, you would be embarrassed, still feeling the heat of everyone’s stares.
“Nothing. Let’s go,” he says, an edge to his voice.
You look back at your friends, finding worried eyes. Rafe is already walking into the cooler air of the building, so you decide to ignore them, following him instead.
You know you’re drunk because you find yourself feeling sleepy on the drive home. Somehow almost falling asleep during Rafe’s ramblings about how ridiculous that man’s accusations are, how he should have showed him not to fuck with him.
“I just don’t know why he would say those things, Rafe,” you wearily say, walking into your house.
“He just wants someone to blame, babe,” he replies, taking off his suit jacket, hanging it on a kitchen chair.
You don’t notice how he wipes his nose, sniffling a little.
You frown slightly, unsure of anything that’s happened tonight.
“I just don’t want everyone to think you…” You can’t finish your sentence.
You feel his hands on your arms, like he’s trying to steady you.
“You don’t need to worry, alright? I can handle it.” His voice is low, assuring, but a slight darkness creeps in.
He looks over you, continuing, “Did I tell you that you looked beautiful tonight?”
You shake your head, finding his eyes.
“Well, you do.”
You crack a smile, and as you stare at his pink lips, you think about kissing him.
But then they start moving.
“I’m sure you’re tired. Why don’t you go relax?” He suggests, and all you can do is nod.
The warm water helps soothe your muscles, making you feel even calmer. You put down your empty wine glass, letting the rest of the liquid go down your throat.
You decided to listen to your husband, running yourself a hot bath while he poured you a glass of wine, a couple candles lit to help you relax even further.
You think he’s doting on you because he still feels bad about everything. You want to smile, thinking about Rafe, but your eyelids start to feel heavy. The thought you should get out of the bath pops into your mind but the wall in front of you starts to look blurry.
You don’t think you can move your body even if you wanted to.
You feel like you’re sinking, the smell of sandalwood engulfs you as you finally close your eyes.
Your body feels lighter as you go down, the water the next thing to take you.
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