#i can just see my follower count dwindling now

[llumetrii]

Soft Spot | Miguel x Reader

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader

Summary: Miguel fixes your dimensional travel watch.

Word count: 1800

A/N: This is the most random writing piece lol but I do want to write more stuff that kind of progresses this story without making it a whole fic. Like each part can be read on its own but it's still connected. Basically just very low effort because I just want to write the scenes I want without having to do filler :)

The busy atmosphere in the hallways of the Spider Society slowly dwindled as you carried on toward your destination. It was always quiet near the top of the building—where Miguel's lab was located. Most people stayed away from the general area, opting to socialize in the other sectors where the training rooms or the cafeteria was. But you had a problem that needed fixing, and only Miguel could do it.

The interface of your dimensional travel watch had been glitching for the past two days. Every time you navigated to message someone or select a dimension to travel to, the pixels would annoyingly spasm. You had messaged Miguel about the problem, and he arranged to have you meet him in his lab today so he could fix it as soon as possible. Luckily, the device hadn’t been broken enough to send you to the wrong dimensions when portal traveling, but that didn’t mean you weren’t highly paranoid that it would.

So, here you were, on your way to Miguel's lab. The clean, tiled hallway was empty and quiet by the time you arrived at the large sliding door to the lab.

As soon as you stepped up to the door, a familiar, golden figure blipped into existence in front of you. The mini holographic woman hovering in the air fixed her heart shaped glasses on her nose as she peered down at you. "Y/N." She greeted with a smile. "I'll let the boss know you're here."

You barely had time to give her a polite smile in return before she disappeared. A few seconds later, the door in front of you slid open with a soft hiss.

You stepped into the dim room full of half-built tech and glass cases of materials from other dimensions. A low, electronic hum filled your ears as you followed the path that led to the much larger room that Miguel worked in. The golden glow of his numerous screens rimmed his tall, muscular form as he turned to face you atop his platform. He watched you step onto it.

"Hey." You said to break the silence. Your voice echoed a bit within the spacious room. "Thanks for taking the time to fix my watch."

He looked down at you. "Of course I would fix it. Can’t risk using a broken device that deals with dimensional travel." He responded. His voice sounded more quiet than it usually was, less firm.

Now that you were closer, you could see how he looked at you, the usual furrow in his brow relaxed and the stern set of his mouth having loosened. He looked…softer, gentle. An expression you didn’t see on his face often when he looked at others.

He’s definitely softer around you. One of your friends had said not long ago. You had just shook your head and laughed at the time. It didn’t make sense anyway. It’s not like you were that close with him—not like he was with Peter B. Parker. You just did your job like anyone else, catching anomalies on missions and helping to train new spider-people if needed. But your friends had pointed out that he listened to you more than anyone else, that his full attention seemed to set on you like you had the most important things to say, even if you were just making a joke about a Green Goblin variant looking like he swiped a cheap mask from Spirit Halloween.

You weren’t sure why he would act differently around you of all people, but you did know that you worked surprisingly well with him when the two of you ended up on the same missions. You listened and worked with his instruction unlike some other spider people that jumped into the fray with their own plan in mind. 

So maybe that was why he apparently took a liking to you as your friends claimed. You lended an ear to him, so he was just more inclined to do the same for you.

He held out a hand, the bright red palm of his suit facing upward in a silent request for your watch. You unclasped your watch from your wrist and set it in his palm, watching as he stepped to his chair at his desk and sat down.

"This shouldn't take long." He said as he pulled open some hidden drawers and retrieved a couple tools that looked unfamiliar to you. His world was certainly more advanced than yours.

You watched him quietly work. His eyes narrowed in concentration, his eyebrows pushing low as he opened up your watch to tinker with the tiny components inside. He even had Lyla pull up some screens of the code so he could have an eye on every working detail within the watch.

Seeing him work in such focus, hunched over your watch on his desk, made a smile creep onto your lips. He was clearly in his element, the evidence of such skill littered about in the shadows of his lab.

You had overheard a while back that he helped engineer technology for his city, Nueva York, over the years. But you knew he didn't have much time to work on such things while he kept watch on the multiverse. He barely had any time to himself for that matter.

He tapped on the screens, scrolling through the numerous lines of code and reading information. "Just gonna run some tests and it should be fixed." He said without looking up at you.

You nodded. He had fixed your watch much quicker than you had anticipated. Though you shouldn’t have been surprised. He had created a device that enabled travel between dimensions for goodness sake, a device that had been compacted to the size of a watch, the very thing he was fixing. "All right, thank you." You murmured.

As soon as the words left your mouth, a pain like a bolt of lightning slashed through your whole body. Colors shot across your vision and gravity left your senses for a split second before it came wheeling back like a punch to your gut.

You stumbled and gasped, blinking hard through the lingering spots in your vision and finding Miguel suddenly in front of you. His hands quickly steadied you at your elbows, the warm grip keeping you grounded, and his face took on the most shock and concern you've ever seen on him. It almost alarmed you much more than you already were.

"You okay?" He asked. His gaze snapped down to your hands without waiting for your answer, and something in the sight of them made him spit a curse. He whirled away from you to reach his desk and snatch an object up in his hand, quickly returning to you.

He took your hand in his—a little roughly—and slipped on a 'day-pass' wristband, one typically given to people who didn't have watches. To keep them from glitching in a dimension that wasn't theirs.

You realized that was exactly what had happened to you.

Your lungs deflated from the breath that had lodged in your throat. "I've never glitched before." You muttered, thinking back to the sensation that had raced over your arms and down your spine. It had felt like your skin was pulling apart, and you grimaced at the phantom feeling your mind conjured up.

Miguel was still holding onto you, giving your forearms a slight squeeze. You looked up at him to meet his gaze of frowning concern. "You okay now?" He asked again.

"Yeah, I'm fine—now." You studied the wristband on your wrist and Miguel's hands fell away from you. "I completely forgot that taking off my watch might do that."

"I meant to give you the wristband earlier." Miguel admitted, releasing a tense sigh. He stepped back and reached for his chair, carefully lowering himself back down like he was prepared to spring to his feet if you happened to glitch again. "I apologize."

You clasped your hand over the wristband on your wrist, feeling the smooth exterior in the curve of your palm. "It's all right. Though it's definitely not something I'd want to feel again." You chuckled weakly.

"Yeah." He said as he looked at you. His eyes trailed down your form and crawled back up in a way that made you feel like a small speck under a microscope. You weren't sure what he was thinking in that moment, but your eyes flickered away, unable to hold up under his scrutinizing gaze.

"Yeah, it's not fun." He added in a more controlled tone as he turned away from you to focus back on your watch.

He resumed the tests he was running while you stood quietly nearby. You glanced down at your wristband, feeling curious. "How do these things work anyway? Like, how do they keep us from glitching?"

"The watches?" He looked up at you. "Well, they read the molecular tone of the dimension, and then apply a temporary overlay to the molecular structure of your body so the dimension doesn't read your signature as alien and try to expel it."

You squinted slightly as your brain lagged behind in the explanation, but it luckily caught up. "Okay.”

He continued, resuming work on your watch as he spoke. "That's why the dimensions are labeled with different numbers. They're just the molecular tone level. A foreign body in another dimension is more likely to glitch if its original tone level has a greater difference from the tone of the dimension they're standing in."

"So that's why I glitched pretty fast." You contemplated out loud. "Because my earth number is a lot different than yours."

"Yes, it's dependant on the difference in tone." He clarified. He started closing down the holo screens that he had been using to fix your watch, and he set his tools aside. "All right, your watch is good now." He turned in his chair to hold out the device.

"Thank you." You took the watch from his hand, feeling his eyes on you as you pulled off the wristband and placed the watch on your wrist. You tapped on the screen to see the familiar golden interface pop up, now free of glitches. Your lips curved in soft relief. No more worrying about getting stuck in another dimension.

Miguel stood from his chair, his height dwarfing yours as always. "You can message me if there are any other problems." He said.

"I will. Thank you again." You smiled up at him.

His face softened once again as he looked down at you, and his lips twitched up at one corner in return.

Warmth fluttered in your chest at the rare sight, and your smile widened. That same warmth in your chest lingered even after you left his lab with your fixed watch. Maybe your friends were right. Maybe Miguel did have a little soft spot for you.

[bangaveragewhitewine]

crazy-mad for you

Eddie Munson x Reader (bouncer x bartender, frenemies to lovers)  - Happy Hours series

Chicago, 1991. When you’re not pouring beers and shaking cocktails behind the bar of Jackie’s, you’re fighting flirting balancing banter and bite with the metalhead bouncer on your break.

A busy Friday night changes how you see Eddie Munson. Maybe you were wrong about the bouncer with his silver tongue and Bambi brown eyes...

This is 18+. If you’re not 18 please hit the back button and read something else.

Word count: 16.7 K

Contents/Warnings: Frenemies to lovers. Misogynistic comments; objectification, men being men. Some violence; Eddie gets in a fight. This is an 18+ fic. Smoking, alcohol consumption & drug use. Oral (reader receiving). P in V sex. Excessive use of pet names. Eddie & Reader are mid to late twenties. Reader is written as AFAB and uses female pronouns.

Author’s Note: One minute you’re daydreaming about cherry margaritas and Eddie Munson, and the next you’re writing 36 pages of how you fall in love with him... Just girly things? This is my first attempt at writing Eddie ❤️

I do hope you enjoy it, I had fun writing it! Thank you @specialagentmonkey for beta reading / being my hype woman.

Once again, this is an 18+ fic. Please do not repost my work to other sites.

Dividers by me ✌️

The cold fizz of vodka soda lime prickles your throat with a pleasant burn. 

It’s August and it’s warm, too warm to be crammed in this little dive bar with too many bodies and not enough of them wearing antiperspirant. Way too warm to be working, slinging cheap drinks to the thirsty Friday night crowd crushed into Jackie’s. They can be stingy with their ‘pleases’ and ‘thank yous’ but the tips are good at least (thanks to the pulled-low hem of your tank top showing just enough and the hug of denim on your hips). 

Jackie’s was a popular little dive you had visited during your first week in Chicago; a drink with your new roommate and some friends ended with you charming the owner Frank and promising to return for a trial shift the following evening. That was almost a year ago and you had settled in well, stepping up to be a supervisor after six months. 

Now, bone tired and wishing just a little bit that you worked a nine to five, you long for a cool shower and something fried and crispy and maybe cheesy (not particularly in that order). You’re here until close, two a.m last call followed by another hour of cleaning. Then you’re home free. Until tomorrow night anyway.

You tip back the last of your drink and crunch the ice between your teeth. Those last few minutes of your break are dwindling and soon you will haul yourself back, to fill beers and shake-up cocktails, all tits and teeth and aching feet. The music from the bar is loud as you perch on your stool at the back door, but you hear him over it hum-singing something way more Billboard Hot 100 than his usual taste. It makes your lips curve into a smirk, your head leaning back against the cool brick wall. 

“Don't you know, hmmhnn change. Things'll go your way. Hmmm hmm Hold On for -”

“Hey, hotshot.”

The small startle that shakes Eddie’s black-clothed body makes you laugh more than it should, particularly when he attempts to brush it off and play cool. 

“Fuckin’ Christ, I should’ve known you’d be here.” His voice is a groan, head tipped back with hammed-up exasperation. 

“Careful, Ed. They’ll revoke your metalhead licence if they hear you’re singing Wilson Phillips these days.” Your voice is a conspiratorial stage whisper as you cross your legs, stacking one over the other. His usual leather jacket has been swapped out for the hot summer nights, black denim over his usual tight black t-shirt and Dickies. 

He rolls and flicks his lighter to set the cigarette between his lips aflame as he meanders toward you. You can hear the crackle of burning tobacco as he takes a long drag, eyes never leaving you. “Not shaking your tits for tips, sugar?”

“Aw, been thinking about me while you’re asking cute girls what their star sign is?” you snark, missing the shadow of something that passes over Eddie’s face as your eyes roll. 

You switch your focus to the night sky above as Eddie comes to loom by you. The smoke swirls around him as he offers the cigarette out to you. Before taking it, you reach back and leave your empty glass on the sill behind you and swap a chilled bottle of Budweiser for the smoking cig. 

It’s not an olive branch, just part of your usual ritual; trading acidic barbs, mean words, shared smokes and free drinks whenever you’re scheduled on the same shifts (which is most nights). 

Eddie uses his keys to uncap the bottle and takes a long pull, head tipped back to show off his pale throat. A sliver of silver glints around his neck. The beer is almost half gone when he rips a truly boyish burp. Gross. 

You take a drag, sighing the smoke into the warm air. 

“What’s the sigh about, princess? Did someone not say please when they asked for their Cosmo? Your little apron tied too tight?” Eddie plucks at the wrap of black fabric around your waist. The way it hugs the curve and flair of your hips is certainly not lost on him.

You blow your second drag of smoke directly at him for that one. “Well if you could make sure we’re not packing the place out and breaching health and safety, that would be fuckin’ fantastic.” 

“Simmer down, princess. I’ve got it handled. You just pour your little drinks and wink at the boys and we’ll get through tonight just fine, ‘kay? Leave the crowd control to me.” Eddie tilts his head, dripping condescension like the total asshole he is. He’s way closer than you even realised and you can smell the spicy Fahrenheit behind the smoke. There’s heavy silence as you both glare at each other in the back alley.

The heat and hectic night make your banter especially snarky but Eddie’s the first to break, nudging you with a little smile. You barely catch his gaze dropping to your lips as you take another drag from his cigarette.

“No one giving you any trouble tonight?” he asks. 

“No more than usual. Just absolutely slammed in there. Just got done changing kegs again - they’re drinking us dry and it’s only Friday.” You roll your neck, sighing again when it cracks. 

“Tips good?” He seems almost genuine until his mean little smirk returns,  “Your tits are probably doing the real heavy liftin’ but..” 

“Listen dickh-”

Just as you’re about to cuss him out, there’s a burst of music and crowd noise as one of the other bartenders comes to find you. Michelle looks between you and Eddie before rolling her eyes. “C’mon, you’re really pushin’ that ten-minute break tonight. Sorry to break up whatever this was,” she flaps her hand between you and Eddie (who’s grinning like a wolf as he finishes his beer), “but we have a bachelorette party in line and it’s already crazy in there.” 

“Bachelorettes?” Eddie pushes off the wall and steals the smoke back from your fingers, “Sounds like I should probably get back to work. Ladies.” He winks before sauntering off, leaving you almost simmering with something like anger until Michelle scoffs and drags you back inside. 

“The sooner you two just bang and get it out of your system, the better,” Michelle tuts. 

“Ew. Pass.” You scoff and pause at the dingy mirror to fix your hair and pat the sweat away with a rip of trusty blue roll, scooping your breasts up in their cups and adjusting your top before scurrying after Michelle again. If you’re going to be busy, you may as well make it worthwhile and rake in the tips. 

The bar is louder than loud but you’re energised from your vodka soda and little sparring session with Eddie and easily fall back into step with the other bar staff, working together like a well-oiled machine - despite the annoying rusty hinge manning the door.  

Eddie rejoined the staff with his buddy Jeff in tow after they had spent some time on tour with their band. You had barely contained your eye rolls when the loud metalhead had waltzed into one of Frank’s staff meetings (conducted over pizza and pitchers of beers) unannounced and kicked his feet up on a table like he owned the place. Everyone was happy to see him (adding a round of shots to toast his glorious return) but you stayed wary of the flirty metalhead with a silver tongue and big brown Bambi eyes. Yeah, you felt warm all over when he looked you up and down and smiled like a wolf but you knew his type - total flirt, make a girl feel special and then move on to the next one. You didn’t move your entire life to a whole new state to get fucked over again, so you and Eddie settled into trading catty comments while you watch out for each other, allowing the occasional flirtation for balance. Getting under each other’s skin in whatever way seemed most annoying and fun? It worked, made the slow nights bearable, the busy ones more fun. Whatever it was. 

An hour later the small of your back is nearly soaked with perspiration. The bachelorettes are in full flight, meaning you have been pouring shots and mixing cocktails non-stop. They’re sweet at least, good with their excited ‘thank you!’s for all the fruity drinks you made them - cherry margaritas, blue lagoons and strawberry daiquiris going down an absolute treat. 

You’re shaking another batch of lemon drop shots for a girl's night group when you become hyper-aware of two yuppie finance bros with their gaze firmly fixed on your chest, trading little smirks and comments with each other behind their glasses. You’re overcome with an overwhelming sense of ick. 

It’s nothing new, but it doesn’t make it any easier to ignore sometimes - even when you’re up-the-walls busy and the kegs need to be changed. You refocus and fix your gaze on the glowing EXIT sign, thinking about how many more cocktails you will make before close. Your eye is caught instead by Eddie standing by the door, already looking at you while he’s supposed to be making sure none of the patrons are being too dickish. 

When your eyes meet he tilts his chin in a nod. Eddie smirks as he shimmies his chest at you, to which you mouth a very easily recognisable ‘FUCK YOU’ with a cheeky wink for good measure. 

He shakes his head and you pour the line of shots, earning yourself a nice big tip and a rake of compliments from the drunk girls who make you promise to do a shot with them later. Not a promise you can definitely keep, but their enthusiasm is a balm for your soul.

As they shuffle away to give each other pep talks in the bathroom (gosh, you love them), one of the men who had been eyeing you up steps into their place. You don’t miss the way he drags his eyes over their bodies before his snake-like stare is fixed on you. You have already made plenty on tips so you dial back the smile, giving him a barely polite brow raise in place of a ‘What’ll it be?’

“Two whiskeys, top shelf. Whatever’s expensive in this dump,” he says, speaking to your chest rather than your face. You can smell the sour of his breath across the counter. 

You square your jaw and suppress an eye roll that would surely render you sightless for the rest of your days. “If you don’t like it, the doors over there. Ice?”

He grunts affirmative and you pour the drinks from the barely touched bottle, slamming the glasses down just hard enough to startle him before you give him his total.

“There’s an extra fifty in it if you give me a smile,” he says, leaning his elbow on the bar with the crisp note in hand. “You been given’ out a lot more for a lot less all night. One little smile for me?” The man nods to your cleavage, and you refuse to feel self-conscious. 

You can’t summon the effort to even fuck with him, come up with a comeback that his Neanderthal brain couldn’t possibly comprehend. You give him his total again along with your best deadpan glare. “You’re holding up the line. Pay up or am I going to need to cut you off, buddy?”

His face turns sour, acidic anger bubbling up. “You’re a hard little bitch, aren’t ya?”

You smirk at that, plucking the fifty from between his thin fingers to cash up before dropping his change back on the counter. “I am, thank you so much for noticing.” Your voice is nearly saccharine, and you play up the airhead facade for a moment before turning to the customer next to him. “Next please!”

His curses blend into the background as Michelle hip-checks you with a grin and wink, which you return while beginning to pour beers for your next order. If you let every slimeball get to you, you would have given up a long time ago. 

On such a busy night, it was easy to be distracted and forget all about him, but the sharp brown eyes standing by the door saw everything - and he wasn’t so forgiving. 

Almost another hour passes; another keg change, more cocktails to shake, another few visits from your favourite group of girls (who you take a shot of tequila with when they bat their lashes at you - you’re a sucker when it comes to girls who give you compliments and smell like vanilla).  

The crowd thins a bit and you take a turn collecting empties, happy to have an excuse to get out from behind the bar and stretch your legs again, even if it is to balance too many glasses on a too-small tray. The ever-changing obstacle course of the floor on a Friday night is one you’re well practised at, dodging stray elbows and dipping in between patrons to take their spent glasses from the sticky tables, maybe chat a little if it��s not too loud or busy. 

Paradise City is pouring through the speakers as your arms begin to protest the load they are carrying. You know your limit and pick up two more stacked pint glasses, catching Eddie’s eye as he bids goodnight to some regulars. His boot is already halfway out the door after them when you see his face change into something you can’t fully comprehend. Not because you can’t read him - you absolutely can - but your body is careening forward and down toward the floor before you can catch yourself. Your foot had caught on something that hadn’t been there before you met Eddie’s stare, sending you flying forward. 

There’s a thud, crash, smash as you hit the deck alongside every single glass you had expertly balanced. The sound feels huge, ringing in your ears and it’s like the air is sucked out of the room, your body is winded by the unexpected impact. The music cuts and everything hurts - part ego, part ‘that’ll bruise tomorrow’ pain. 

You wish for the sticky floor to just swallow you up as patrons form a little circle around you, crunching broken glass under their feet. A familiar pair of boots stops right by your head. Eddie. He crouches to kneel by you with one hand heavy on your shoulder and floods your already overwhelmed senses with his smoke and leather and spice. 

He says your name, edged with panic until you open your squeezed-shut eyes. You manage to push yourself up with a small wince, hauling yourself with his help to sit on a quickly-vacated low stool. His hands feel huge as they cup your face, you hadn’t noticed how long his lashes were (unfair) or the freckles dusted across his nose. 

“M’okay, Ed. Jus’ need a minute,” your murmur, head ducked to hide your hot cheeks and embarrassment. He stands and puts his arm around you, without thinking you rest your head against his hip but miss his slight intake of breath as your coworkers calm the crowd and start sweeping and gathering the glass, and thankfully turn the music back on. 

Eddie bends a little to speak to you, low and quiet, “Just sit there a sec, okay? ‘Chelle is going to bring you to the staff room.”  

You nod and take a few breaths before taking his hand to stand and be passed safely into Michelle’s care.

“I’ll be back to you in a sec. Don’t go gettin’ in any more trouble, ‘kay?” Eddie’s softness has an edge now, his eyes zeroing in on the man who had given you shit at the bar earlier. The one Eddie had been glaring at ever since; he had seen him stick his foot out to trip you. 

You’re just about to push through to the back hallway when you hear raised voices. Eddie’s voice is louder than the others. You turn and see him squaring up to the slimeball who asked you for a smile earlier, not looking as clever or slick now that Eddie’s up in his face.

“Oh, what the fuck,” Michelle murmurs, pausing behind you to watch. 

“I saw you fuckin’ trip her man. Get the fuck out.” Eddie is incensed. “Been givin’ her shit all night.”

Trip her? Oh. He means you.

“I wouldn’t touch’er. That bitch? Fuck off man, get out of my face.”

There’s a scuffle, another broken glass. More shouting before it really kicks off, fists swinging. Through the horrified crowd, you see knuckles connecting with Eddie’s pretty face. It hurts when you yell out his name, adding to the noise as Jeff rushes in to get the men under control. 

Eddie lands his own punch, rings slamming into the man's jaw, raising a collective ‘ooof’ from the gathered crowd. Despite the blood on his face and hands, Eddie manages to haul him out into the street with Jeff, some beefy regular marching the second man out by the scruff of his neck. 

“What the fuck…” you breathe, realising that you were holding on to Michelle’s arm way too tight. You apologise and she steers you back to the staff room in a daze of pain and confusion (more from the fight than your fall). The room is little more than a box with a wall of beat-up lockers, a sink and counter, a table with cracked Formica and creaky chairs and a squishy old two-seater. It’s cramped but it can be a haven on a busy night. 

As you ease yourself into the corner of the squishy sofa, Michelle pours you a big measure of whiskey for the shock. She kneels in front of you, looking you over for any cuts or scrapes from the glass, and checks your pupils for good measure. You’re just shaken up and feeling the impact of the fall. 

“You dizzy or anything?” she asks, squeezing your knee. “You’re gonna have a big fuckin’ bruise, babe. Remember when I spilled that pitcher, slipped and fell on my ass back before Christmas? Black and blue well into New Year.” She squeezes your knee and encourages you to take a sip of your drink. 

The whiskey burns but you barely feel it. 

“Why did Eddie hit that guy? Did.. did he trip me? The floor was clear, I just… I didn’t see... My foot caught something but..” Your voice shakes from the adrenaline, the shock of the last few minutes. 

She shrugs with a little smile. “I didn’t see either. You’ll need to ask Ed yourself.” A little frown etches between her brows. “He doesn’t… he doesn’t get pissed like that for no reason. He’s a good guy, babe. He looks out for everyone, staff and the drunks. He wouldn’t do that without a good reason. I know you get up each other’s ass but..-” 

As you take another sip, the door swings open. 

Eddie. Eddie with a bloody nose, lip swollen. Eddie with his jacket off, draped over his arm as he flexes his bloody knuckles around a bottle of Jack Daniels, a pint glass of ice in the other hand.

“Hey, you okay?”

His brown eyes are wide, but he’s trying to play cool despite the adrenaline coursing through him too. Eddie feels like his entire body is buzzing, not in a good way like when he plays a gig or when he gets you riled up at him, when you roll your eyes and give him that smirk - bad like when he used to get in fights in school, when a teacher would assume he was the troublemaker and send him to detention or the principal’s office. 

You look at Eddie and he looks right back at you. You can’t look away from each other. It’s like your fall and his punches caused something to shift; you can’t name it but it weighs on you, both of you. 

Michelle squeezes your hand. “I’ll leave you two to patch yourselves up. Be good.” A kiss is dropped to your head and she squeezes Eddie’s arm as she passes him by. 

It’s just you now. You and Eddie, both hurting. 

“Ed…”

He takes a long pull from the bottle of Jack and drops into the seat next to you. 

“Eddie, what the hell was that?” Your voice is quiet and your eyes shine when you look at him. He is a ball of frenetic energy, knee bouncing. You take in the black ink on his arms, see the veins and muscles twitch beneath. His nose and mouth are stained bloody, knuckles and rings too. 

He looks over you, sees how you’re holding yourself carefully after your fall. “He tripped you.” Eddie’s voice is quiet, not something you hear often. He’s loud and he’s brash, hear-him-before-you-see-him kinda guy. 

“Oh.”

“Oh? He’d been giving you shit all night, you could’ve called me. Or Jeff.” He sips the whiskey again and tops up your glass without another word.   

“Yeah, he was a creep. Nothing new there. If I come crying to you and Jeff every time someone gets fresh with me I’d never be behind the bar. People are assholes. I can handle myself, Ed.” 

“And how’d that go for you tonight? You could’ve been really fuckin’ hurt.” His eyes blaze, nostrils flare. 

Your jaw drops, “You’re blaming me?” 

“No. No, fuck,” he growls in frustration. “I know you can handle yourself. That’s why you’re fuckin’ great at your job. If I had just taken him out when he gave you shit at the bar then maybe -” 

“Jesus Christ, Eddie I don’t need you to save me or protect me! Shit happens! This was shit. It happened. You didn’t need to do that.”

“I know. But I wanted to... I want to..”

The air between you is charged and heavy. 

I want to. What does that mean? 

Eddie covers himself quickly. 

“It’s my job. I want to make sure you, everyone here, can do their job without some fuckin’ guy with halitosis making it worse for you, waving his cash in your face like that.” Eddie nudges you gently, “I just want to do somethin’ right. I like working with you, even when you’re a pain in my ass.” 

You scrunch your nose up, “Sap.” It’s easy to both fit back into your normal routine, ignoring the lingering something more that had just become quite clear to both of you. 

“I might like working with you too. Don’t let it get to your head, I’m not sure your ego needs to get any bigger, Munson.”

He smiles, but the throb of his nose makes him wince and swear.

Eddie has made no attempt to put that glass of ice to good use so you ease yourself up to grab two clean bar towels, tipping the ice into one before wrapping it up. You pass it back to him before filling the empty glass with water.

“Thanks, princess.” Eddie flexes his fingers as the ice soothes the burning with cool unpleasantness. 

You ease yourself back into your seat, facing Eddie now. “C’mere. Let me clean you up.” 

He pauses, looking at you from the side of his big brown eyes before turning to face you. “It’s not broken. Just a little blood. You should see the other guy..” Eddie grins when you roll your eyes. 

“My hero,” you deadpan, though you do kind of mean it. 

With the damp corner of the rag, you gently begin to wipe the blood from Eddie’s face, sitting closer than you have ever really been to him. It’s silent between you, the quietest you have ever seen him. He’s too busy watching you, your focused face and how seriously you are taking your task. 

“Very gentle,” he murmurs. 

“Mm, don’t try me, Munson.” You’re quiet again, concentrating on wiping the blood and not looking into his eyes. “Not your first bloody nose after a fight then?”

“M’nope. High school… Mosh pits. Few angry drunks. The usual.” He doesn’t mention his father’s temper, his first bloody nose from a beer-soaked backhand. The whiskey tastes sour in his mouth at the memory.

You lean back a bit, assessing your work before wetting another edge of the towel. Eddie crosses his eyes, looking down his nose. “Am I pretty again?” He gives an extra cheesy grin for emphasis, making you laugh. It makes his heart soar; that sound, how you duck your head. But he sees your pained wince, bringing him right back to earth. 

“Shit, sorry.” “It’s fine. I’ll live.”

You bring your hand back to his face and wipe the last of the blood-stained around his mouth, taking one last slow swipe over his too-plump-to-be-decent lower lip. That was more for you than for him, though the spark of fire in his eyes said otherwise; it was the same spark lit low in your belly since you had first laid eyes on him and started your incessant teasing of each other. 

“All done.” Your voice is just above a whisper, neither of you making any move backwards. 

“Thank you, nurse.” You can feel the warmth of his breath on your face. “Hey, can you... wear one of those little white dresses next time?” 

He’s grinning again when you shove at his shoulder to put some space between you, the skin beneath almost burning hot under your hand even through the black cotton of his t-shirt.

“No next time. You hear me? Your groupies will come for me if that pretty face gets all bashed up.” There’s that smirk of yours that sets the embers burning low in his stomach alight. 

He rolls his eyes at you, stealing your move. “You heading home?” he asked, watching you again as you drained the last of the whiskey in your glass. 

“Mm, soon. I’ll check if I can help close and clean, then I’ll go.” You lean your head against the back of the battered sofa and close your eyes briefly. You think you might just sleep here until your stomach growls like something from the seventh circle of hell.

Eddie’s big brown eyes shine with mirth, astounded at the inhuman noise that just came from your curled-up body. 

“Shut up. I’ll make cereal or something when I get home.”

“Nuh-uh. You like fries?”

“Who doesn’t like fries?” you peek one eye open to look at him.

“Let’s get some and I’ll make sure you get home safe.” Eddie checks his knuckles and swipes some of the blood from his rings, acting far more nonchalant than he felt. 

“You don’t need to.” Fries and a shake did sound amazing. Walking home while I felt like a human embodiment bruise? Not so much. 

“I know. But I’m going anyway, and you need to eat. So let me.” 

He pokes your arm as he speaks; you think fleetingly that you might let Eddie Munson do anything if he asked you nicely, spoke to you with that hushed husky voice. You think that you definitely must have hit your head when you start thinking about his eyes…

But he can’t know that, so you settle for an eye roll. “Ugh, fine.” 

With far too much energy, Eddie pushes himself up and empties the ice into the sink along with the red-tinged water. He potters around the little staff room, chucking rags into the bag for the laundry and rinsing glasses. You watch him, curious and a little confused until you realise you are staring and don’t want to be caught. 

You sit up and unlock your tiny locker, taking off and balling up your apron to throw in your bag, spraying deodorant under your arms before shutting and locking it again. Eddie’s got his jacket back on and you carry your own too-big denim jacket over your arm. You give him a nod, ready to go, and head out to the bar to check with Michelle that it’s okay for you to call it a night 

The crowd had thinned to a few stragglers who were almost ready to call it a night. Jeff has the door under control and the bar staff are already cleaning tables and glasses. You promise Michelle you will call her tomorrow, that you will stay in bed if you hurt too much, and accept her gentle hug after she passes you your tips for the night. 

“Get home safe. No more getting into trouble,” she says, eyeing you and Eddie together with interest (and some smugness). 

“No promises. See ya tomorrow ‘Chelle,” Eddie says with a wink before you both head out toward the black ‘86 Dodge Daytona parked a little down the street. It’s still humid and warm outside and you walk in silence until you see him unlock the nice car, opening the door for you. Your stomach flip-flops when he gives you a slight bow. He’s only being nice because you made an ass of yourself at work, you tell yourself. 

“Jesus, being a rockstar really pays off,” you tease and throw your bag into the passenger footwell before easing yourself in. “Or did you steal this?” 

You knew he had worked in a garage before moving to the city, and you force the thought of Eddie in a grease-marked tank top out of your head.

“Nah, my days of grand theft auto are long behind me.” Eddie winks and closes the door before rounding the shiny bonnet to sit in the driver’s seat. His keys jangle before he turns the ignition. 

The radio blares Iron Maiden’s The Number of the Beast so loud that you just about hear Eddie’s swearing over it until he gets the volume down. “Oops.”

“Dude, mind your fuckin’ ears. You’ll be deaf by thirty.” Your own ears are ringing after the onslaught of noise. 

“Huh?” He holds his hand up to his ear and smirks stupidly before revving the engine. 

You sink back into the low seat and shake your head; your own smile reflects at you in the window as he peels away from the curb. “You better not murder me, Munson. I’ll haunt the fuck out of you if you do.” 

“Once again babe, kidnap and human sacrifice are also long behind me.” 

He drives a little fast, but you don’t hate how you feel sitting in the passenger side of his car. He has a faded Black Ice Little Tree hanging from the rearview mirror alongside a skull keychain that cackles and glows red when you push a button on the back. The cramped back seat camouflages balled-up band shirts, a pair of beat-up Chucks, amp leads and guitar strings - a random accumulation that gives you a glimpse of who Eddie is outside of work. It’s easy for your mind to wander; Eddie, a back seat, what kind of girls he usually brings for a ride in his baby. Instead, you wonder about all you don’t know about the guy you spend a good part of your week with, the man currently driving you to get diner food at 2 a.m. after he punched a guy who was mean to you.

“Feelin’ okay?” he checks, flexing his knuckles on the steering wheel as he takes a left.

“Yeah.” You roll your head to look over at him. “Tell me something.”

Eddie glances across at you, brow raised under his bangs. “What?”

“Something, anything. A secret, a story. You always have something to say, so tell me something.” 

“Mmm. You gonna laugh at me?”

“Probably.”

“Shit okay. Um... Okay. I almost got kicked out of my high school graduation. My friends were disruptively loud, like obnoxious motherfuckers - love them to death. And I flipped the Principal off instead of shaking his sweaty little hand.”

It does make you laugh, just a little - more of a really amused smile. “That’s fuckin’ cool, Munson. Were they your little Dungeons and Dorks friends?”

“Rude.” He pauses. “Dragons. Dungeons and Dragons.”

“Nerd. You’re from where, like Ballsack, Indiana?”

“Close. Hawkins - just north of Ballsack actually.”

“Can’t say I know it. Home of the Metalheads or..?”

“No. Definitely not. S’why I left.”

Your lower lip juts out just a little at the loaded confession.

“Your turn. One secret, please. Dirtier the better.”

“Perv.”

“Witch.”

You smirk, leaning your head back. “Been called worse tonight.” 

You don’t see Eddie’s knuckles twitch while you think of a secret. Hearing that guy call you a bitch reminded him of all the times he had heard his poor mother called the same by the deadbeat he called Dad. 

“Okay, you’re going to piss your pants at me. I used to work at this kinda fancy cocktail place before I moved here,” you say. “Totally lied about my experience before starting. Think… wannabe jazz lounge for yuppies. The menu was like this leather folder thing. Anyway, my first week and this like.. rich lookin’ guy comes in and asks for a Roman Coke.”

You see Eddie glance at you as he indicates and swerves the car smoothly to park opposite a little diner not far from where you live. 

“I’m a few days in, super eager to get it all right. I’m like, ‘Yes, of course, coming right up’ and can I remember what the hell is in a Roman Coke? Fuck no. It’s not on the menu so I think ‘Hey this guy must know better than dumb little me’. I’m flipping through the recipe cards, everyone else is busy and kinda mean anyway so I stare at the liquors for like two minutes before I go back and ask him ‘What’s in that again?’.” 

Eddie’s biting his lip. He knows where this is going. He sees how you light up when you tell your story, begs the butterflies to calm their swooping and swirling behind his ribs as you deliver the punchline. 

“Rum. And Coke.”

His head falls forward, rests on the top of the steering wheel. His shoulders shake with silent laughter.

“Eddie. He was the owner.” 

He cackles. That throaty yell of a laugh you hear ringing through the bar or from the staff room when he’s goofing around instead of working. 

“Oh no..” He’s wiping tears from his eyes as you cringe in his passenger seat. “Oh princess, that’s fuckin’ terrible.” 

You sit together in his parked car until you settle, faces hurting from smiling until your stomach growls again.

“Jesus, the woman needs fries - stat.”

“And a Coke?”

“And a Coke.” 

Eddie is out of the car and opening your door before you even have your seatbelt off. He offers you his hand to help you out of the car, careful of your sore body after the fall. 

“Feeling okay?” he asks, still holding your hand. 

“A bit achy. I’ll have a hot shower and take something before bed.” You lift his hand to check his knuckles. “Sore?” 

“I’ve had worse.”

He squeezes your hand gently before you let go and cross the street to the hole-in-the-wall place glowing with neon Coca-Cola signs. 

“You get in a lot of fights then?” you ask as he holds the door. 

“Not anymore.” Eddie shrugs and leads you to a little table, nodding politely to the waitress filling coffees at the counter. She says hi to him by name and you think about Eddie coming in here alone, or not, after his shifts.

The backs of your thighs catch on the red vinyl and you know you will need to peel yourself up later.

Eddie sits opposite you, looking immediately at home as he relaxes back in the booth. In the bright diner lights you can see where his lip is still swollen and sore, the lingering specs of blood in his nostril despite your careful clean-up.

The waitress, an older woman with thinly drawn brows, comes over and pinches Eddie’s cheek with motherly affection. “Hi hon, you two know what you’re havin’?”

Eddie scrunches his nose like a bunny. “Hi, Marie. Usual for me, and a big basket of fries and a Coke?” He looks at you for confirmation, and you nod. “Please and thank you.”

She eyes you up with a little smile as she writes the order. “I was wonderin’ when Eddie was going to bring a nice girl for me to meet. Make yourself at home, sweetheart.”

By the time you both open your mouths to set Marie straight, she’s already gone. Eddie’s cheeks tinge pink, but he shrugs it off. “Hate to have to break her heart and tell her you’re not a nice girl.”

You gasp in mock offence and put your hand to your heart. “I am so nice.” You can’t even keep a straight face as you say it. “Slandering my good name, Munson. I thought you were all about protecting my honour.”

Your close-to-the-bone teasing keeps the rosy tint on his cheeks. 

“I never told you, your face when you fell? Fuckin’ hilarious. Should’ve taken a picture to put behind the bar.”

The jab puts you even again, not that either of you keeps score but it’s all about balance. Can’t be too nice, don’t want to be too mean. 

You rest your head against the back of the booth and close your eyes for a moment, feeling the exhaustion from a busy and unpredictable night wash over you. 

Eddie takes the opportunity to just look at you for a moment; even under the too-bright lights of the diner, he thinks you might just be the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 

“Tell me something else,” you say before opening your eyes. When you do, you catch a fleeting dreamy look on Eddie’s face and lean forward to rest your chin on your hand as Marie drops over your drinks and food; fries for you, a burger with oozing American cheese and crisp bacon for Eddie. 

“So nosy,” he teases, shoving a straw into his fizzing Coca-Cola. 

You shrug, feeling a burn in your stomach; maybe you were overstepping. “You don’t have to. You can sit and stare at me if you prefer,” You take a long sip through your own gently placed straw and raise your brows at him. 

He can’t and won’t argue with that one and stirs the ice as he thinks, takes a sip. 

“One of the first gigs I played out of our hometown, we had like thirty people instead of the usual five drunks in the Hideout. I tried to crowd surf, thinkin’ I was hot shit. Broke my wrist.” 

Your eyes blow wide as you eat the best fry of your life - it’s perfectly crisp and fluffy, salted just right - but the punchline of Eddie’s latest confession had you wanting to know more.

“You want half?” Eddie asks, nodding to his burger. 

“No, I'm good, thanks. Hold on, reverse to the breaking your wrist after thinking you were Iggy fucking Pop.” 

He’s already a bite in but holds his wrist up before he flips you off. “See? Good as new,” he says, pausing his chew. 

The fries are too good to waste so you push down the urge to throw one at him. 

“I was eighteen. Stupid kid. S’the reason I didn’t graduate that year.” He sips his Coke again and watches your reaction from beneath his lashes. 

“That’s shitty.” You feel the frown deepen between your brows, angry on his behalf about something he was long over. “No wonder you flipped the principal off.” 

You share your fries with Eddie and eat until your stomach feels warm and full. You share another secret too, tell him about the time you got so scared in a haunted house that you punched some guy dressed as a zombie and got kicked out. He almost choked on a fry at that and laughed so loud that Marie looked over and shook her head fondly at her favourite customer. 

It’s easy to drop the charade that you and Eddie don’t get along. A diner at fuck o’clock in the morning exists a world away from the little bar that pays your rent and bills. When you see him get excited telling you a story, letting you see Eddie beyond the bar, you know you got him wrong - he’s funny as fuck, sweet too. 

Midway through a story about how his friend Robin had dragged him to do (very) drunk karaoke last week, Eddie catches you staring and scrunches his face a little. “Am I rambling? Fuck, sorry.”

“No. Well, a little, but I like it.” You sip the dregs of your refilled Coke and smile a little. 

He smiles back, ducking his head just a little and he catches the time on his watch. His Bambi brown eyes blow wide when he realises. “Jesus, I oughta get you home. The sun will be up soon.” 

You didn’t realise either, but you also don’t care. You’re still tired, still aching, but you feel lighter than you have in months, like a long-dead spark might just be coming back. The warm glow is dampened just a bit when Eddie gulps down the last of his drink. 

He pulls his jacket back on and insists that he helps you put yours on when you wince. He settles the bill, kisses the back of Marie’s hand and promises to come see her soon. Neither of you let her down when she says she hopes to see you again sometime. 

It’s cooler outside now, but the warmth in Eddie’s car and his gentle singing along to the radio rocks you into a light doze as he drives the few blocks to the address you gave him. It kills him to wake you once he’s parked outside. 

The small frown lines on your forehead tell him you’re still in some pain after the tumble you took. The ache in his knuckles felt like nothing in comparison to the twisting anger in his gut when he saw that prick’s foot shove out into your path and you watched as you fell in slow motion.

He gives it a minute, tries not to stare like a creep, before reaching over to shake your knee gently. 

“Hey.” He says your name so softly, so gently, and taps his fingers against your knee. 

You startle slightly and realise where you are. “Sorry, Thanks for the ride, Eddie,” you say quietly. “And the fries. And everything.” 

He smiles again, a gentle curve upward of his lips as his fingers rest on your knee. “Any time. We’re like two or three blocks from each other.” 

Neither of you wants to burst the already waning bubble you have been in since you left the bar. For a moment, you just look at each other until the air becomes too thick, too heady to breathe easy. You’re not entirely convinced that you didn’t hit your head, that this whole night hasn’t been just some dream of yours. The heat of his hand on your leg tells you it’s real. This is something real. 

And still, you make the first move. Pop the bubble. Too much. Too scary. 

Your seatbelt clicks open and you grab your bag as Eddie does the same, coming to open your door and offering you a hand to get out. 

Neither of you let go of the other’s hand, eking out the last of whatever this was before you have to go your separate ways and think about what it could turn into if you only had the bravery. You’re both standing so close and you watch the shadow of his stupid-long lashes under the street light. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow. Today. Whatever. At work.” You want to slap yourself for stuttering. 

“Only if you feel up to it. Don’t be a hero, princess.”

“That’s your job, Ed. I’ll see you at work. Thank you, again..”

You squeeze his hand, he squeezes back.

You walk to your door and Eddie rounds the car again to the driver's side. He raises a hand to salute you as you turn to give him one little wave before closing the door. 

“Fuck,” you sigh with your back pressed to the wood of the door.  “Fuck.” Eddie growls as his head drops against the roof of the car. 

You both take a minute. Need a minute before you can move on. 

You drag yourself up the stairs and let yourself in, quiet enough to not wake your flatmate. Eddie waits to see your light come on before starting the car and driving the two blocks to his place. 

After popping some painkillers you crawl into bed. Even your racing mind and pounding heart can’t keep you from falling into the deepest sleep you have had in months. Your dreams echo with Eddie’s happy throaty laugh, the gasp from the bar when he threw the first punch, the sound you made when you saw a fist crash into his pretty face.

You sleep late through the Saturday morning city sounds as they turn to afternoon and float through your cracked open window. You sleep until your flatmate knocks to check you made it home and are still breathing, then doze off again while she makes brunch for you both. 

Over eggs and bacon, toast and fresh fruit, coffee and Advil, you tell her everything from last night and show her your bruises. She runs to CVS to get arnica cream and more painkillers while you strip your bed, shower and do laundry, keep busy to keep the recurring thoughts of Eddie from your head. 

While you are folding clean clothes from earlier in the week back into your drawers, you come across a guitar pick Eddie had left on the bar one time before your shift started; once lost from his pocket, found again amongst the collection of shirts and shorts and jeans you wore to work. You had meant to give it back, then he had called you a brat for something stupid. Maybe he had burped too loud in your direction, and so you didn’t bother. As you run your thumb over the smooth curve of it, you think maybe he’s been at the back of your mind for a longer time than you even realised.

You’re sore all over but you call Michelle and let her know you will be in for your shift. You don’t tell her that you stayed out extra late with Eddie talking about stupid shit and laughing until your face hurt - you're not sure you could handle her sweet smugness over the phone. 

After a long bath to soak your muscles and a huge plate of pasta for dinner, you get ready for work. Denim shorts, a tight black t-shirt tucked in, and your trusty Dr Martens (despite the heat). You add some jewellery, spritz your perfume, and fix your hair up off the back of your neck to keep cool. You swipe some Raisin Rage on your lips before wiping it off in favour of a slick of cherry flavour Chapstick. At the last minute, the lipstick makes its way into your bag - just in case. 

It’s just after six when you step back into Jackie’s to help cut wedges of lime and lemon for drinks, make sure the barrels and kegs are hooked up properly, the mixers ready to go. It’s almost time to open up and you haven’t seen (or heard) Eddie yet. You chase your disappointment with a quick smoke break with one of the summer hires before Frank pulls you aside, making sure you’re okay after last night (and that you’re not thinking of suing the bar or anything).

“My wages wouldn’t cover a lawyer, Frank. Even with the tips,” you smirk before stepping from his office out into the hall, running straight into black denim and spicy cologne. 

“Woah, easy there.” Eddie’s hands steady you, two wide palms on your arms that squeeze gently when you look up into his smiling face. “You’re a fuckin’ liability, honey.”

Your cheeks feel hot but you shove his chest gently. “I was wondering when you’d arrive. It was so peaceful and quiet, what a shame.” 

Back to normal. Except Eddie’s hands are still on your arms, his thumb circling on the round of your shoulder. “Feelin’ okay?” he checks, speaking quietly just for you. 

You nod and lift your hand, taking his chin between your finger and thumb, feeling brave alongside the little intake of breath Eddie just about hides. “No bruises. Good.” 

There’s a beat where you and Eddie aren’t quite sure what you mean, what to say next. You’re glad that Frank calls for Eddie from his office, wanting to have the same chat with him as he had with you. It gives you both a good excuse to let go of each other, figure out what the fuck that was before your shift starts.

He squeezes your shoulders and gives you a little smile before letting you go. “Be good. Don’t get in trouble.” 

“I’ll try, hot shot,” you say quietly, giving him a wink before going to join Michelle and the other bartenders for a quick pre-open meeting - but not before you dip into your locker to pat a layer of lipstick on. 

The crowd begins to trickle in, slow and steady until it’s packed full and the music blares just loud enough. They’re a fun crowd tonight, and everyone is in good spirits now that it’s not quite so oppressively hot outside. You don’t have time to think about much else in between chatting to customers and mixing drinks; shaking cocktails is a bit more laborious when your body aches but you don’t complain. 

It’s almost eleven before you take your break. You take another Advil before slipping past the Staff Only door. The air is tinged with smoke as Eddie leans against the brick, waiting. 

His face lights up when he sees you and the two glasses you’re carrying. “Double fisting?” he asks, taking another drag. 

“One for you, one for me. Mines the water.” You extend out the dark fizzing highball glass to him, which he eyes suspiciously. He passes you the nearly burnt-out smoke as a trade-off. 

“What’s this?” he asks, “The witch's potion? I knew you’d take me out by poisoning me.”

You prop yourself on your stool and sip your ice water, smirking into your glass. “It’s a Roman Coke.” 

Eddie’s laugh rings through the alley and he holds up the glass. “You fuckin’... Wow. What an honour.” His free hand covers his heart, silver rings glinting in the light. It would be easy to think he’s being condescending or playing around, it’s what you do. But Eddie is genuinely a little bit touched and a whole lot smitten. He can feel his heart beating faster under his palm. 

You pass him a paper-wrapped straw before watching as he takes a curious sip of your special mix. You take a drag of his cigarette and watch his eyes blow wide as he computes the flavours. 

“D’you hate it?” you ask carefully.

“What is in this? It’s insane! I really like it,” Eddie says, grinning. 

His smile makes your tummy flutter. 

“It’s rum - but like, a coffee-infused rum - and Coca-Cola, with Sambuca,” you list off the ingredients that had been turning over in your head all evening. 

Eddie nods as he takes another sip, letting the flavours wash over his tongue. “Mm, I like it. You’re a real little alchemist, huh? Get it on the menu.”

You laugh and pass him back his smoke. “Nah. That’s an Eddie special. Just to say thanks..” 

Eddie looks at you, watching your teeth sink into your stained-dark lip as you wait for him to respond. He’s a shade softer than the usual tough-but-fun guy who works the door, softer than when you’re usually tearing strips off of each other for fun on your breaks. 

“Careful,” he says, voice quiet. He looks almost bashful. 

You frown a little. Your gut twists uncomfortably. Had you read it all wrong? 

“I don’t know what to do with myself when pretty girls are sweet to me,” he says, sipping his drink pointedly. 

The knot in your stomach swoops. He thinks you’re pretty. Eddie thinks you’re pretty. Eddie who flirts with dolled-up girls all night while he’s checking IDs.

You look back at him, see how the light and shadows play on the slope of his nose and those long lashes. “You have plenty of practice, Ed,” you say, so quiet. “You always know what to say.”

He smiles just a little and shakes his head. “Not with you. S’why I say stupid shit. Anyway, no one’s as pretty or sweet as you,” he says. “Even when you’re mean. Especially when you’re mean - so fuckin’ pretty then.”

Your laugh is almost involuntary, cheeks feeling warm. “That was smooth, Eddie,” you say, teasing him again; that was comfortable, less scary. 

“It was? Oh good. I’m fighting for my life here.” He laughs and leans against the wall beside you. 

He’s taller than you as you sit on your stool, tuning your body sideways to look up at him. “Putting the moves on me, Munson?” 

“Is it working?” Eddie raises his brows, pushing them up under his choppy fringe. There’s a playful twinkle in his eyes, hopeful and yet apprehensive. 

“Yeah, I think it might be,” you whisper, biting your lip again. He wants to bite it for you, soothe the pinch of his sharp teeth with his silver tongue. 

You reach a hand out, sliding your fingertips up over the back of his hand and wrist until they slip under the cuff of his sleeve. You bring his hand down onto your thigh, warm and bare in the summer evening heat. 

You’re feeling brave. Eddie is too. 

He leaves his drink on the sill next to your water and steps closer, his hand huge on your legs as he feels the smoothness of your skin and the frayed hem of your denim shorts. Eddie crowds closer, smelling the sweetness of your perfume as his leg slots between your knees. His eyes flick from looking at your lips to searching your gaze for any hesitation or hint that you’re just fucking with him. He finds none and feels braver than ever. 

He dips down, brushing his nose against your cheek and hears your intake of breath, that little gasp he wants to swallow and consume. His lips press a kiss to the corner of your mouth, begging sweetly without a word. 

You turn your head just a fraction to close the minute gap, bringing your lips together. With your hand on his neck, you feel his pulse race in time with your own beneath the stroke of your thumb, sliding down the strong tendon to where it meets his shoulder. 

Eddie’s lips press and slot with yours, plush and gentle and tasting sweet like Coca-Cola. He kisses you slowly, savouring the feeling of your lips on his. You pull him as close as you can, your warm breaths mingling as he sneaks a look to make sure you’re real. 

He is gentle behind the bawdy jokes and leather and silver rings. He’s softer than anyone can see. But you can feel that sweet softness in the way he cups your face before kissing you again. Eddie strokes his tongue against your lower lip to ask for permission he doesn’t need. It makes you shiver as that smooth-talking tongue slides with yours, making you gasp. 

Before it can build pressure and turn any steamier, he slows it back down and kisses you in slow pecks again before leaning his forehead against yours. He can’t stop himself from smiling and doesn’t even try to pretend he’s not elated when he feels your shy smile too. 

Behind that smile, you’re aching for more. You want to run your fingers up through his curls and tug, be kissed breathless by him. You want a hundred more soft kisses, feel his smile on your mouth. You want to feel him everywhere. 

“You okay?” he whispers, and can’t resist pushing another kiss against your cheek before moving back to look at you again. 

“More than okay.” You bring your thumb to swipe the lipstick transferred over from your lips to his. You want to see every shade you own smeared around his mouth. 

Eddie kisses your thumb, before pretending to nip it to make you laugh. “Are you going to be able to go back to the bar?” 

You shake your head, smiling before sighing over-dramatically and fixing a pout on your face. It drives him mad in the best way. “Mm, maybe give me one more for luck?” you whisper. 

He puts you out of your misery with one more long lingering kiss. “I’m not done kissing you. At all.” Another peck, because he cannot simply stop himself. “I’ll wait for you after work.” 

Your smile is too big to hide, rendered speechless by his confession. So you nod, giving his lower lip one last swipe to remove the evidence before patting his cheek. 

Eddie reluctantly backs off for his own good. He had thought about pressing you against the bricks and kissing you stupid too many times to be decent. He still will - it’s at the top of his bucket list - but just not now.

He grabs his drink, downs it, and gives you a wink. “Don’t go sharing that recipe, okay? That’s for me only, sugar.” 

“Cross my heart,” you tease, sitting on your hands so you don’t drag him back against you. You think he might just be okay with it if you did. 

“Later…” As if he can read your mind, he backs away with absolute mischief in his eyes. 

“Later.” You wiggle your fingers at him and laugh when he almost walks ass-first into the stacked crates of empty bottles. He swears at them and flips them off before throwing one last wink your way. 

Once you’re sure Eddie has turned the corner of the building you cover your face with your hands and smile into them, murmuring ‘What the fuck, what the fuck’ as your cheeks heat up your palms. 

When you have just about gathered yourself, you head back inside and fix your smudged lipstick. You tap Michelle’s hip when you get back, signalling for her to go take her break. 

She looks you over, suspicious of where exactly that coy little smile came from. As she throws one last look over her shoulder, she sees Eddie at the open door, looking just as dreamy and pleased with himself.  

The rest of your shift passes without incident, which is a miracle because all you have been thinking of is Eddie Eddie Eddie. Eddie’s lips, Eddie’s hands. Eddie’s strong inked arms and his sturdy thighs. His lips (again). 

You caught each other’s eye a few times during the night, and it made you feel hot all over. Especially when he was being a total gentleman to some pretty girls, telling them to get home safe. You had felt his dark–chocolate stare on you as you laughed with customers, and shook up cocktails while he watched the strength of your arms and the subtle bounce of your breasts. Knowing Eddie was watching, thinking about how he might kiss you again later, made you slick with desire and excitement. 

You ring the bell for last call at 2 a.m. as your feet burn, and arms ache. There’s a flurry of orders while Jeff and Eddie close the doors and stand inside shooting the shit together, bidding customers good night as they leave in pairs and groups. By three it’s kicking out time and the few reluctant stragglers take recommendations for pizza joints and all-night diners to soak up the alcohol. While the bouncers do one last sweep of the place, you work through your checklist with a singular motivator; kissing Eddie Munson. 

With anticipation buzzing in your chest, you wipe spills behind the bar, refrigerate the mixers and hand-wash the muddlers and stirrers from the cocktails. The younger guys fill the dishwasher with glasses and barware. You thank your stars that it’s not your night on bathroom duty, refilling the straws instead and making a note for Frank of what’s running low before he does his full inventory and stocktake. It’s a well-oiled machine and your duties are finished in record time... 

Eddie made himself useful, staying out of your way (but watching closely, in absolute awe of you) in favour of picking up a broom and keeping the music going to keep morale up. He leans on the clean bar, chin on his hand as he looks at you standing with your hands on your hips. “Wanna get out of here?” he asks, tilting his head toward the back door. 

You nod, “Gimme two.” You restrain yourself from running to your locker (a quick walk is sufficient and unsuspicious). You fix your hair, blot your shiny face and spray deodorant and perfume again before opting for cherry flavour Chapstick. Extra lipstick this late? Far too eager. 

After a quick round of goodbyes, you notice Eddie and Michelle have both already gone and you rush around to meet him by the door. One taste and you are hooked, needing another kiss like your next breath. When you can’t see him, it’s like your lungs shrink. There’s no lingering scent of his cologne or swirling smoke, no glowing cherry or loud laugh in the back alley… 

Breathe. In, out. Calm the anxious flutters. Is he already at his car? 

Just as you’re about to round the building, the back door opens and an almost frantic-eyed Eddie nearly catches you with the door... “Hi,” he breathes. Relief. A sigh you both share before the smile, the relief. 

“Shit, did I get you?” He puts his hands on your shoulders and squeezes when you shake your head. His hands skate down your arms to squeeze your hands. “Sorry, got distracted inside. Can I... Can I drive you home?” 

Your nod is far too eager and you squeeze back, your rings tapping against Eddie’s. You drop each other’s hands but stay close to each other. This is new and unnamed and you don’t want the work crowd throwing questions at you before you have even figured it out yourself. 

Your hands and arms bump as you round the building together and for once neither of you know what to say. When you look up, Eddie is already sneaking a glance at you; he smiles when you catch him and you both dissolve into laughter. 

“What the fuck, you’re literally never this quiet,” you tease, elbowing him gently. “Say something.” 

Eddie takes your hand again, swinging his arm with yours. “You looked hot tonight. Like, hotter than usual.” Eddie licks his lower lip and it makes your stomach flip. 

“You think so? It must be the drink I made you. Pretty strong…” 

“Maybe. Maybe it’s ‘cause I couldn’t stop thinking about you, how you kiss.” He’s so smooth and it makes you feel warm all over. 

Close to his car now, you slow your stroll and lean against the passenger side. “Yeah? Maybe you should kiss me some more then, seeing as you can’t stop thinking about it.” 

“Oh, I’m gonna.” He grins and crowds you against the shiny black metal, bracing one hand on the roof as the other loops around your middle to press your body close. 

It’s like stars bursting behind your eyes when you feel Eddie’s lips on yours again. This kiss is eager and almost needy after hours of trying and failing to not eye-fuck each other. The hand lying low on your back slips lower and Eddie uses the leverage to step his thigh between yours with a delicious press of pressure. When you gasp he takes the opportunity to dominate the kiss a little more, licks his tongue against yours in a dirty slide.

You haven’t been kissed like this in a long time, all tongue and pulling soft gasps from each other. It has been even longer since you have been heckled while you’re kissing someone; Michelle breaks that streak as she wolf-whistles at you from across the street as she walks to her own car. 

“Get a room!” You don’t see her grin and salute as you laugh into Eddie’s chest, hugging your arms around him beneath his jacket. He kisses your forehead and holds you after flipping Michelle off with a rosy-cheeked smirk.

“She made me late, by the way. Gave me the talk in the office.” 

You rest your chin on his chest, pulling your eyebrows together. “The birds and the bees? Where do babies come from?” You laugh when he pokes your ribs and holds your squirming body closer still.

“Ha ha, jokes on you. That’s next week.” 

You muffle your laugh against his black t-shirt. 

“No, just that I better treat you good and not fuck around. Don’t want work to be awkward, blah blah.” Eddie squeezes your hips. “She also said ‘It’s about damn time’.”

You nod slowly, remembering her quips over the last few months about how you two should just shut up and get over yourselves, bang it out or something. It seemed like it was obvious to everyone but you and Eddie just what was going on behind your little frenemy routine. 

“Well then…” you say quietly. 

“Well then indeed…” Eddie echoes. 

There’s a lot for you to figure out. You can’t just kiss your co-worker and expect everything to stay the same, but inside you think that maybe you don’t want that and Eddie doesn’t either. That’s something you both need to figure out, but right now you just might die if you don’t kiss him again soon. 

“Eddie?” 

“Yeah?”

“Can I come to your place?” you ask quietly. 

Eddie nods, eyes sparkling. “Yeah. Yeah, fuck. I’d like that a lot. Are you sure you want to? We don’t have to...”

You rock up on your toes to kiss him again. “I want to. Let’s just... See where it goes?”

A little breathless, Eddie nods and roots for his car keys to unlock the door. He pecks your lips again before you both get into the car. This time he keeps his hand on your knee while he drives through the dark streets, only moving it to change gears. You keep it there, smoothing over the rings he wears with your fingers. 

You recognise Eddie’s street - there’s the bagel place you go to, the camera store where you get film developed. You can’t believe he’s been this near all along. 

He swings the car into a little parking garage under the building and takes the spot reserved for apartment 8. You twist in your seat to face him and see he looks a little lost in thought. “I can go home if you prefer?” you say. 

“No no. Please, don’t. I’m just.. thinkin’ about how messy my room might be.” He twists one of his rings and you cover his hand again to stop the anxious little movement you recognised from your own fidgeting.

“I don’t mind. Being nocturnal can be pretty shitty for keeping your place clean,” you say. 

Eddie nods, shoulders deflating now that he’s less worried you’re going to think he’s a total animal.

You pull his hand back over to your lap, fingers intertwined. “Anyway, I’m not here to snoop at your stuff, Eddie.” You shrug a little, hiding your smile as he thumps his head against the seat. 

“You’re going to be the death of me, I know it.” 

“You should be so lucky.” 

Your lips meet again halfway across the centre console, smiling mouths and ringed fingers grasping at each other, wherever you can reach. A rogue elbow hits the horn, making both of you jump - Eddie yelps - then dissolve into a fit of giggles which Eddie gladly smothers with one more kiss. 

“Lemme get your door, princess,” he says, lips brushing your chin and cheek one more time before freeing you from his hold to hop out and round the bonnet. You could get used to this… 

There are more kisses in the small shaky elevator, crowded to the mirrored wall as Eddie’s lips get acquainted with your jaw and neck, finding that spot below your ear that makes you moan his name quietly, tug him closer by his belt loops. 

You drive him crazy in the best way, he makes you feel wanted - perhaps craved is more apt - as his hands run over the flare of your hips and dip to your behind.

The elevator stops, dings, and you drag Eddie’s mouth to your own again to taste his tongue before he takes your hand and does his best not to drag you to the door marked with a brassy 8. 

“Shit,” he mutters, fighting with his keys to find the right one as you slip a hand up the side of his t-shirt, feeling the trail of hair below his navel to scratch through. 

“You’re a demon. An actual devil woman,” he hisses, resting his forehead against the door as he lets you distract him for a second. Before you can tease him anymore, Eddie turns and takes your face gently in one hand. “You actually want to come in or am I going to need to put you over my shoulder and bring you back to the car?” 

His eyes are burning with want, lips pink and puffy from your kisses. He watches your pupils blow wide and sees the gulp in your throat. 

“You gonna behave?” 

All you can do is nod, brain static with want, accept a kiss on the pout he’s placed on your lips, and try not to swoon or combust on the spot while he wins his battle with lock and key. 

Eddie flicks the light on inside and throws his keys in a saucer sitting on a little table inside the door. There’s a short hallway with a fairly full junk closet before you step into the apartment proper. You told him you weren’t here to snoop, but the urge to look around and soak in all you can about Eddie Munson is too good to pass. 

A typical boy's apartment really - an open plan kitchen/living room with a second-hand sofa and mismatched chair, a coffee table cluttered with an empty mug and a full ashtray, a fresh pack of cigarettes and a forgotten Coke can. There are some amps stacked in a corner, framed posters yet to be hung as they prop against the wall. It’s kind of exactly what you expected. 

Eddie twists a piece of hair around his finger, watching you look around. “Can I get you a water…?” he suggests, “Hungry?” 

“Mind if I use your phone? I want to leave a message on my voicemail so my flatmate doesn’t think I died or got in another bar fight.” Sense prevails over your desire to get your fingers back under his shirt, find out what other ink he has hidden beneath. 

“Sure, good idea.” Eddie points to the phone on the wall by the little breakfast bar. You notice a Garfield mug which makes you smile a little. “Back in a sec.”

While you’re leaving a message on your answer phone, Eddie stuffs dirty and clean laundry into some approximation of where they should be. He fixes the blanket and duvet on his bed - thankfully freshly changed - and strums his Sweetheart before hearing you hang up the phone. He takes a peek in the mirror after removing his jacket, shakes out his curls and gives his arms a quick flex before telling himself he’s an idiot - being friends with Steve Harrington has definitely altered his brain chemistry in some sort of way. 

Meanwhile, you have already given your own armpit a sniff and fixed your hair in the reflection of Eddie’s microwave before you hear his boots on the wood floor again. 

“Did you get prettier while I was..?” he looks between you and his left-ajar door glowing with the bedside lamp he had left on. 

You roll your eyes at him before following him to sit on the sofa, leaving your bag and jacket on the well-worn cushion of the armchair next to it. He flicks some music on low and relaxes back into the cushions, watching you decide where to put yourself. 

“Any time you want to go, just say. I’ll drive you home,” he says quietly. You can feel the warmth of his arm where it stretches across the back of the sofa.

Scooting closer, you turn your body to face him a little more. “Thank you. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be, Ed. Promise.”

He nods and welcomes you back under his arm, pressing his lips to your head while one big hand squeezes the top of your arm. “You smoke?” he asks, nodding to a little box like the lockbox you have for petty cash at work. When he flicks it open, you see some pre-rolled joints, papers and a bag of green. 

“Oh shit, you’ve been holding out on me, Munson,” you tease, poking his ribs before he sits back next to you with a joint and his Bic lighter. 

Eddie flashes his brows upward as he sticks it between his lips to light up. “Something something… Not mixing business and pleasure?” he says, muffled by the joint. He takes a hit before offering it to you, fingers brushing as you raise your brows in turn. 

“Oh yeah? I think we’re doing plenty of that tonight.” You take a drag with a smiling mouth as Eddie’s eyes darken and flash mischief again. 

“Yeah, think so. Been thinking about it a lot longer than I’ll ever admit though,” he says, watching how your breath catches and you cough a little. He tuts playfully, “Am I going to need to show you how, or are you pretending so I’ll shotgun you?” 

You fan your hand in front of your face to give yourself some air before flipping him off. “Be nice, s’been a while.” You tap your fingers against his knee. “Wait, go back. How long have you been pining over me?” You’re more careful when you take your next hit, raising your brows expectantly at Eddie.

Eddie rolls his eyes as he takes the joint back; after another hit, he taps the ash off the end. “Not your business.”

“Absolutely my business. Go on. Was it when I wore that little dress to the Christmas party? Oh no, I bet it was when I spilt that pitcher of beer on my stupid white shirt… Fuck, I forgot that.” 

Eddie remembers both vividly (especially the little dress) but no, it was way before either of those incidents. “You going to keep annoying me ‘til I tell you?” 

“Yep.” You grin and watch him take a long slow hit. His lips wrap around the end and his cheeks hollow, showing off those sharp cheekbones. “Tell me,” you sing. 

He holds the smoke in before sighing it out with his head back against the sofa to look at the ceiling. His head turns to look at you instead. “Maybe like… the first shift we worked together? Maybe the second, either way, you were shaking up spicy margaritas or somethin’, had this little smirk on your face. Then later you asked me for a cigarette and the rest is history…” 

Your cheeks heat at his confession and Eddie’s do the same. He’s embarrassed and you feel like an idiot for letting your hang-ups get in the way of really seeing Eddie and giving him a chance. 

“Jesus, Ed.” You squeeze his arm, just below the flurry of bats tattooed there. 

His arm sizzles where you touch him - well, that’s how it feels to Eddie anyway. “We got a good thing going though, I mean I really do enjoy it. Making you huff at me and roll your eyes. Fuck.” His smile is cheeky, a little dirty as he licks his lower lip. 

You laugh together and let him bring the joint to your mouth. Your eyes slip closed as you inhale before opening again to see Eddie watching you. It reignites the spark low in your gut as you begin to feel nice and fuzzy around the edges. 

Eddie takes one last hit before saving the rest, stubbing the joint in the ashtray on the arm of the sofa. His eyes don’t stray from yours as you crawl into his lap. 

You twist one of his curls around your fingers; his hair is soft and the curls springy. “Guess it was like…perverse flirting or really long foreplay?”

“Mm, hot.” He squeezes your thigh. “I’m good with both of those. That is if you let me take you out. A real date.”

You pretend to consider it, though you are already in his lap, in his home, ready to give him anything he asks for. “Yeah, I’d like that. Last night was real nice, just talking with you. Just… get me some flowers instead of punching a guy next time?” 

He copies your faux-consideration and nods, “Deal.”

Said deal is sealed with a kiss; this one is sweet and warm, soft even. You both know you are skipping ahead of your date, but as you smile against each other’s mouths, Eddie thinks he might just keep you in his lap forever if you let him. 

Your lips press and slide, tongues tangle and tease as the intensity simmers to a boil again. His hands roam up your thighs and around to grasp two handfuls of you, pulling you close as you press yourself against him. You can feel the hot breaths through his nose against your cheek, and Eddie wants to groan at the feeling of your breasts pushed up against him. Your bravery builds in tandem with how much you want and need him and you start up a slow roll of your hips. 

Eddie swears against your mouth, “Shit, you feel good.” He squeezes his hands and pushes his own hips up, letting you feel how thick and hard he is for you. 

Your whimper makes him crazy-mad with lust, Eddie’s lips feeling the vibration as he kisses your throat and finds that spot on your neck again. He wants to mark it, hear what noise that would pull from your pretty, kiss-bitten mouth. From the corner of his eye, he sees the flutter of your lashes, the way your mouth drops open. He thinks you are so pretty and it makes the ache in his chest pulse like a bruise. 

You direct him back to your lips with a gentle tug, opening your eyes before you press a kiss to his lower lip before leaning back enough to untuck and pull off your t-shirt. Eddie’s jaw twitches as he feasts his eyes on the black lace cups you fill out so perfectly, the glint of your necklace beneath the hollow of your throat. 

He moves both hands back to your waist where the denim cuts in, fingertips skating the bare skin above. “Can I?” he asks, looking up to your eyes. 

Instead of answering, you cover both hands with your much smaller ones, guiding them upward until you feel the warmth of his hands cover and cup the weight. 

“You’re gorgeous,” Eddie whispers, looking at your face again as his thumbs seek and stroke the pebbled nipples beneath. 

Eddie had never been subtle when he checked you out at work; he made playful and bawdy comments his cover story to get away with letting his eyes linger a little too long on your chest. You let him away with it every time, knowing you would get him riled up another way later that shift or on the next one. 

When you look down, the sight and feel of his guitar-scarred hands on your chest make you bite your lip hard. Your palms skate over the gooseflesh of Eddie’s arms, over the bulk of his biceps and shoulders as he learns how to make you keen for him with just his hands on your breasts. You pull him in for another filthy kiss and blindly glide your fingers down his chest to the top of his trousers. You have already felt how hard he is under the roll and grind of your hips, but it’s not enough. Eddie deserves to be touched and tasted after all this time, pining over you. Not because you pity him, you want to make up for lost time. 

His hips press upward, seeking out your touch; you adjust yourself to straddle one of his thighs and flip the hem of his t-shirt up to get at the button and zip. Your eyes are fixed on the hard line of him pushing up against the fabric; your fingers brush over it before undoing the fastenings, making his breath catch in his throat. 

“I want you so bad,” he murmurs, tilting his head up to kiss your jaw again. That makes you pulse right between your legs; you relish the firmness of his thigh pressing against you there as he kisses his way back to your lips. You pull away only to push the black work pants and tartan cotton boxers down enough to get at him, to see him. 

Eddie watches your eyes flash when you see the thick length of him, brushing your fingertips up and down to watch it kick with arousal. You nuzzle against his cheek as you take him in your hand, telling him how big and pretty his dick is before beginning to stroke him. In your mind, you’re thinking about how he will feel inside you and in your mouth, but you try to focus on kissing his neck and learning how he likes to be touched. He’s rock hard and weeping at the tip, it makes your mouth water.

“You think about me when you do this for yourself?” you ask, pausing to lick your hand before grasping him again. The tinge of salt on your tongue makes you want more. 

Eddie nods, eyebrows pinching together. “Fuck, I do. Tried not to, but I can’t help it.” 

That makes you feel hot all over and you rock yourself against his thigh to relieve the pulsing between your legs. “M’here now, don’t need to pretend anymore, Eddie.” Your lips brush his jaw and the way he moans, the way he pulses with arousal in your hand, it makes you giggle. 

“You’re literally gonna kill me,” he groans and rests his forehead against yours, eyes squeezed shut. 

“I’m not. Promise. Just want you to feel good,” you say, and kiss him again when your hand picks up the pace. 

Eddie’s hips rock upward into your fist. His hand stills your arm and he has to take a few breaths before looking at you - his chocolate-button eyes are consumed by dilated pupils. “This’ll be over real fast if you keep that up, baby. You’ll never let me live that down.”

His head dips to kiss across the tops of your breasts before running his nose up along your throat. His head tilts toward his room. “Can we? Been thinking about you in my bed.” 

You nod, keep cool even though the butterflies in your stomach are back with a flurry of vengeance. Eddie grins, which sets you off too, and you tuck him back into his boxers before moving to let him stand. 

He offers you a hand and twirls you once. “Hold on. Let me just..” 

Eddie pauses, looks you up and down and you know he’s up to no good. Before you can figure him out he has you over his shoulder with a surprising show of strength. You squeal-laugh, slapping your hand on the back of his thigh. “EDDIE!” 

His laugh is throaty and rough - like an honest-to-god gremlin - and he just about manages to keep his pants up as he carries you to his room. “You seemed to like the idea of that earlier, what you complainin’ about, baby?” 

You can only laugh in response until you’re deposited onto his bed with more care and gentleness than anticipated. You lay back to catch your breath, cheeks warm and aching as you grin up at Eddie. You’re certainly not unimpressed by his ability to fireman-lift and carry you. He kneels to untie your boot-laces, then his own. You sit up and pop the button on your shorts before Eddie takes over, removing them along with your shoes to leave you in your only slightly mismatched underwear and bra - they’re both black, and Eddie doesn’t notice or care. All he sees is you, in his bed.

His t-shirt and pants are left in a heap with your clothes and in a moment he is with you, laying you back to kiss you everywhere. His hands and lips map your body, kissing freckles and stretchmarks, nuzzling the red mark your bra left around your middle when it’s removed and lost to the floor. He notes the ticklish spots on your ribs, saves them for later, and lavishes kisses on your bare breasts. 

As Eddie lays his body between your spread legs, you wish you had longer to see the new ink revealed to you but take the chance to stroke his hair like you have been wanting to. He practically purrs and chases the relaxing motion, leaning against your hand when he breaks his trail of kisses to the band of your underwear. The light is too dim to see how soaked they are, a darker shade of black between your legs caused by him, but Eddie knows it’s there and teases his fingers over the damp heat. He smiles when your hips jump up at the friction. 

His chin rests on your hip bone while he looks up. “This okay?” he checks, dipping his fingertips up past the elastic around the top of your thigh. He goes no further until you nod, breathe out ‘yes, please’.

You get the feeling that if Eddie was still wearing pants, your undies would go right in his back pocket. The thought of that alone makes you throb as Eddie looks at the feast in front of his eyes. 

“Oh she’s pretty,” he murmurs, biting his lip. “And so wet f’me…” 

You gasp when he finally touches you, stroking his finger down the seam of you. He swears and shifts his hips against the bed when he feels your wetness and watches his finger come away shiny. 

He pushes one kiss below your belly button before getting comfy, manoeuvring one leg over his shoulder with his arm around for good measure. His curls tickle against your leg but all you can focus on is how his tongue strokes and licks, how his lips suck and press. 

His name bounces off the poster-clad walls, your voice gaspy and ragged when his tongue circles your clit before pushing its way inside you to seek out your soak. 

“So sweet, I knew you would be.” His voice is a murmur against your cunt, there and gone again as he seals his lips around your clit. 

“Fuhhh- Eddie.” 

One hand balled in the duvet, the other a crown atop his dark curls as you shift your hips and help him find the angle that is just right. He is rewarded with a scalp-burning tug and a guttural moan you can’t even begin to be embarrassed by as he feasts on you like a starved man. 

His fingers squish your doughy thigh before he slows to a pause - it’s brief and yet you whine in complaint. You feel his breathy laugh against your folds, his murmured ‘easy, baby’. Eddie stopped only to remove the rings on his right hand so that he could push one, then two, deep inside seeking out your g-spot before you can comprehend that his rings are on your fingers for safekeeping. 

His eyes are fixed on you; your heaving chest and breasts, the blissed-out expression on your face. He knows when he has found it, feeling you gush in time with a wet, wobbly moan of his name and the pained-by-pleasure look that graces your pretty face. 

“That’s it, huh? Good girl,” he murmurs. He earns another loud moan as you arch your back to chase absolute bliss. 

Eddie’s hips roll against the mattress - if you had the brain capacity to notice you would surely die on the spot. Your heart already feels like it is about to leap from your chest, blood pounding in your ears as he keeps up the pace and pressure. He can hear and feel how close you are as your voice gets higher, begging brokenly ‘yes, yes! Eddieeee!’ when you free fall over the edge. 

Your body goes tense and then boneless as he works you through it, not letting up until you nudge his head with your thigh. “Too mm-much,” you slur, hips twitching. Eddie presses gentle kisses and murmurs words of praise against your sensitive sex; he leans into how you stroke his head while you come back to the land of the living. 

“Y’okay?” he asks, smiling up at you with shiny lips. He eases his fingers out, marvels at just how soaked they are in the golden glow of the bedside light before kneeling up and licking them clean. “Knew you’d be sweet, sugar.” He winks and you curl in on yourself as you shake with laughter. 

“You’re a menace, Munson. Remind me how you've been single all this time when you can do that?”

You take his hand, pulling him down so he is lying on top of you. He’s hard against your hip, but isn’t pushy with getting you to do something about it as he lies with you, holding you as you bask in the afterglow. 

“Guess I had this really big weird crush on a pretty girl, got me in a dry spell,” he teased. He smacks a smooch to your cheek and makes a pleased little noise when you pull him in for a proper kiss, taking your cheek in his ring-less hand. 

You let yourself feel a little smug as you drag your fingertips up his back, swirling and stroking until they brush the band of his boxers. “Do you have condoms?” you whisper against his lips, hoping that the dry spell won't ruin your plans.

Eddie nods and peels himself away to kneel up and reach over to his messy bedside table, digging an almost full box from the top drawer. He squints at the date and takes one from the packet with a pleased grin, “We’re in luck.”

You reach out to palm him through the straining cotton, feeling the growing damp spot and smiling up at him as his tongue darts out to lick his lower lip. You sit up, pushing his boxers down with both hands. They join the rest of the forgotten clothes on the floor while you get your hands back on Eddie’s body. You see more ink usually hidden beneath his clothes; you want to look at each tattoo, study it and ask him what it means, listen to him tell you more stories and secrets. But there’s plenty of time for that. 

Eddie smiles against your mouth when you wrap your fingers around him again, chancing a glance to watch your hand - your hand heavy with his rings - stroking him. His hips jerk almost of their own volition; his brain has most certainly gone static. “Jesus, fuck,” he murmurs. 

You catch on a moment later and giggle against his shoulder. “That got you going, huh? Me wearing your rings…”

“You get me going. That’s just extra hot.” His voice catches when you squeeze him again, and he calls you a devil woman one more time. You’re getting used to it, kinda like it. 

The foil packet crinkles under Eddie’s knee. You push his chest gently, sending him to sit up against the headboard so you can make his lap your throne again. Without hesitation, you tear the foil and roll the latex down over the diamond-hard length that’s weeping for you to sit on it. He steadies your hips as you hold the base of him, sinking down through the stretch and pinch eased only by how soaked you still are. 

It’s intense, the burn and the closeness. Eddie’s forehead against yours as you watch him watching you take him inside. The lingering tendrils of the weed you smoked together make it all so deliciously fuzzy and warm. Neither of you makes a move, settling into the tight heat and fullness of Eddie inside you. 

His fingers stroke your hips while yours twirl the ends of his hair, touch his silver chain and brush up his neck so that you can cup his jaw and kiss him again. You hold on to each other tighter as you begin to raise and roll your hips, savouring the stretch until your body tells you to move faster, harder. 

“Look how pretty you are,” Eddie murmurs, taking in the bounce of your breasts and the way your jaw hangs open as you move in his lap. “Yeah, that’s my girl. Are you my girl, baby?” 

You whimper, holding him tighter and closer as you nod. “I’m yours, Eddie. All yours.” Your voice wobbles but not because you’re unsure, you’re just feeling so good, so full. 

Eddie groans deep in his throat, squeezing your hips and ass tighter as he helps you to bounce. You pause, focusing on rolling rather than rising to ease the burn in your wobbly thighs; it makes you whimper against his neck. It’s so much but not enough; so good, it’s frustrating.

“Shhh, I got you. You’re just feelin’ too good, huh?” he murmurs, nodding with you when you give a small ‘uh huh’. “Yeah, good girl.”

Your brows crease as you keep rutting your hips. “You feel so big. Fuck, Ed…” 

“You gonna let me do the hard work, hmm? You just lay back and look pretty for me, princess.” His voice is like hot honey, making you drip in his lap. He feels you pulsing, making his hold on your hip tight enough to leave a bruise as he gathers his composure. He’s wanted this so bad for so long, refuses to let himself (and you) down by busting early like a teenager. 

You nod, blissed out as he runs his hands over your warm body. Eddie is careful, so gentle, as he helps you to move up and off of him. He guides you to lay back, comfy on the pillows that smell just like him. You can’t resist nuzzling into them as he makes his way back between your legs. 

“Comfy?” he asks, palming your thigh as you hook your legs over his hips. He watches your eyes, sees that you are a little more with it now, with him. He can’t wait to see you dreamy-eyed and blissed out beneath him. 

You nod and squeeze his hips. “Very comfy.” He sees how your lips pout, asking for a kiss without words.

As if he could say no, refuse you the very thing he himself is craving. 

Eddie leans forward, arms braced on either side of your head and presses his lips to your cheeks, nose and forehead. He laughs quietly when you scowl all mean before you soften at the brushed blessing of his lips against yours.

He reaches down and takes himself in hand, stroking a few times before rubbing the tip against your cunt. He imagines how this would feel without the condom, feels the hot winding pull in his abdomen at the thought before your voice brings him back. He smiles and nudges his nose against yours, mirroring the rub down below.

“Please,” you whisper, lips catching Eddie’s. “Fuck me.”

The eye contact is almost too much, a burning intensity, but you feel hypnotised to keep your eyes on him as he pushes inside. 

You squeeze your lips together, feeling that stretch again, and watch how Eddie’s brows pinch. 

“You feel unreal, baby.”

He rolls his hips and pushes the rest of the way in. Lashes flutter and your jaw drops open. He feels so deep, it’s like he’s all the way in your chest. 

After a moment he begins to thrust slowly, dragging himself halfway out before pushing all the way in again and again and again. Eddie drinks in the little whines and moans that spill from your lips. 

“Don’t go shy on me now,” he whispers, brushing your hair back. When his hips rock again you feel him press against that spot that makes you see stars and there is no way you can keep quiet. 

“There we go, is that it?” Eddie asks, repeating the motion. Your back arches and he hikes your leg higher, almost folding you in half as his thrusts get harder, faster.

You can feel tears pricking your eyes, feeling almost overwhelmed with pleasure. Through the sting, you see Eddie’s clenched jaw, the meaty cord in his neck straining and the rosy glow on his cheeks. 

“Eddie, m’so close,” you whimper, almost tearful as you squeeze his forearm.  

“I know, sweetheart. I can feel it. Fuck.” He huffs through his nose when you flutter around him and he leans over you more, spreading you wider still as he begins to pound his hips into you. He is barely holding on, feeling hot all over as he fucks you, wishes it could last longer but you’re both so tightly wound.

There’s a perfect press and drag against your clit that winds that cord of pleasure inside you tighter and tighter. Your mouths press together; barely a kiss, more a shared moan. One particularly hard thrust brings you to your climax with a broken moan against Eddie’s chin. Your nails press into his rear and pull him in to rut against that spot, fucking you through the most intense orgasm of your life as he meets his own peak with a husky throaty groan.

You feel like you're floating, fallen over the edge in each other's arms.

The weight of Eddie on you brings you slowly back to earth, breath huffing against your neck as you stroke up his back and up into his curls. You take a deep breath in; when you exhale it's shaky and wobbly almost like a quiet sob. 

Eddie summons the strength to press up and look at you, seeing your dazed smile and warm wet cheeks. “Hey,” he wipes the tears gently, “Oh shit. Did I hurt you?” he asks, panic spiking the glowy daze. 

You shake your head, almost giggling when you speak. “No, no. Fuckin’... amazing.” You pull Eddie back down and wrap yourself around him, holding each other as you come back to earth. A few more tears escape and Eddie wipes them away with such reverence. You stay quiet until you can string a sentence together. “That was incredible.” 

He smiles, cupping your face, and kisses you before carefully rolling you onto your sides to face each other to run your fingers over each other's warm bodies and share more kisses. Once he is sure you’re actually okay, he excuses himself to throw the condom away and returns with water and a damp flannel. He spends a moment cleaning you up as you gulp the water down, then finishes the rest and fills it again before closing his bedroom door. 

“You want a t-shirt?” he asks, pulling on a pair of clean boxers before throwing his hair into a low bun.

Despite the blanket, you feel a little shivery and accept the offer. 

He helps you into a well-loved Dio t-shirt before pulling the duvet over you both. Your legs are tangled together as you lie together, as close as you can. Outside, past the closed curtains, the sun is already starting to peek on the horizon.

You hum tiredly against Eddie’s shoulder when you remember the weighty silver on your hand and tap his hip gently. “Hey, Romeo. Your rings.” Your hand comes up in front of his face, wiggling your fingers. 

Eddie smiles, a lazy curl of his lips, and kisses the tips of your fingers before taking them off for you. He reaches back to drop them on his bedside table.

You want to stay awake, stay in the bubble of bliss, but the pull of exhaustion is too strong. 

“Sleepy?” Eddie brushes a kiss on your forehead and flicks the lamp off when you nod. 

“Eddie? Tonight was amazing,” you whisper against his chest.

He smiles in the dark, squeezes your hip. “Yeah, it was. I’ll make tomorrow amazing too if you’ll let me, but you gotta sleep first. Bet you’re really grumpy when you’re tired.”

“Shut up,” you laugh, hiding your face in the pillow. In the dark, you can just see the outlines of each other, shapes and shadows. “Lemme sleep and you can take me for breakfast. Like a date or somethin’.” 

He hides his grin poorly, you can see his teeth flash even with your eyes almost closed. “Nah, breakfast is part of the package. Lemme plan something for our date.” He gives you one last kiss, “Sleep now, sugar.” 

You feel warm, so happy and safe in his arms as you fall asleep. If Eddie asked, you would never leave his arms, leave his bed. And Eddie? Eddie lingers on the precipice of sleep, ready to drift once he knows you’re sleeping soundly. He kisses your forehead one last time before closing his eyes, both holding each other in an utterly blissful sleep. 

Thank you for reading! Likes, reblogs and comments are absolutely adored and cherished ❤️

[scoonsalicious]

7.1 Major

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Summary: Lily McIntyre, trainer for new SHIELD recruits at the Avengers Tower, has been in love with her best friend, Bucky Barnes, from the moment she met him. She's been content with her role of the #1 girl in Bucky's life, even if it means she has to sabotage a romantic relationship or two. It'll be worth it when he realizes that they're meant for each other, right? There's just one small problem: Lily McIntire never expected Bucky Barnes to fall for You.

Warnings: (For this part only; see Story Masterlist for general Warnings) Language, discussion of feelings, nudity, mentions of some sexy stuff.

Word Count: 3.2k

Previously On...: Idk; it's been so long. Who can even remember? Just kidding-- Bucky blew off his plans for a 'friend-date' with Lily to talk to you about what happened that morning.

A/N: And we're back!

Hi, besties! I confess to not getting as much writing done as I had hoped on my break-- cursed writer's block! Then, last night, I ended up scrapping most of the writing I did do and started over, lol. However, I've got a bit of a back log again, and a four day weekend starting tonight, and now that I feel reinvigorated with the story, we'll be able to resume our regularly scheduled program!

If you ever feel so inclined to support my work, hop on over to buy me a coffee; it's much appreciated! <3

NOTE! The tag list is a fickle bitch, so I'm not really going to be dealing with it anymore. If you want to be notified when new story parts drop, please follow @scoonsaliciousupdates

Thank you to all those who have been reading; if you like what you've read, likes, comments, and reblogs give me life, and I truly appreciate them, and you!

You pulled up to the destination Bucky had sent you as dusk was falling. Langston Park. A weird spot for dinner, you thought, but you’d double-checked the location with Bucky, and he’d assured you that you were in the right place. 

Glancing at your map, you noticed that the pin he’d sent you was a little ways up a trail. You parked your truck and double checked your bag to make sure you had your pepper spray at the ready– not that you were afraid that Bucky was going to harm you– just that, a woman alone in the woods at dusk? You could never be too careful. It actually went against your better judgment to go in there at all, but you trusted that Bucky wouldn’t lead you into danger. 

If I do come across something unexpected, you thought to yourself, please let it be the bear.

You cautiously made your way up the trail, using the nearly useless flashlight feature on your phone to keep yourself from tripping over anything. It was difficult adjusting your eyesight from the bright light of the map you were following on your phone screen to the darkness gathering around you. After you’d been walking for about fifteen or so minutes, you had to turn left to go off-trail, cutting off your access to the dwindling daylight even more. You gently pushed branches of leaves aside as you made your way through the woods, until you noticed a soft, orange glow coming from up ahead of you.

When you broke through the tree line, your breath caught in your throat. The pin Bucky had sent you had led you to a small clearing nestled along a stream, with a melodious waterfall cascading down into a pool that held a handful of floating lanterns. The entire clearing was lit with hanging lanterns that gently swayed from the branches of the surrounding trees, washing the entire space with low, warm light. Spread out on the ground was a large blanket with some throw pillows, extra blankets, and a picnic hamper. And in the center of the clearing, crouched Bucky. He’d appeared to have just finished setting up his phone to stream some soft music. The entire tableau was the most romantic thing you’d ever seen.

“Hey,” you called softly as you turned your flashlight off, dropped your phone into your bag, and made your way into the clearing.

Bucky stood and turned to face you, a wide smile spreading across his face. “Major, hi,” he breathed. “Thank you so much for coming.”

“Did you do all this for me?” you asked in awe as you looked around, taking in your surroundings. You could feel a lump form in the back of your throat, and you had to actively tell yourself not to cry. No one had ever done anything so absolutely romantic for you in your entire life. Not once had Connor ever made a fraction of the effort Bucky had made tonight.

Bucky’s face took on a look of panic. “Is it too much?” he asked, nervously glancing around as though he were trying to judge it anew through your eyes to see what you might find wrong with it.

You smiled, reaching for his hand to offer a squeeze of reassurance. “It’s lovely,” you said. “No one has ever done something so amazing for me, Bucky. Thank you.” 

Bucky visibly relaxed at your words. “Figured I owed you something special, to make up for this morning.” He motioned to the blanket, guiding you to sit down with him. “I brought dinner,” he said, opening up the basket. Inside were several subs, a couple of bottles of lemonade, and a few bags of chips. “Sweet onion teriyaki chicken with cucumbers, extra pickles, and red wine vinegar,” Bucky said, handing you a sandwich. You held the sandwich to you for a moment, your chest filling with warmth at the fact that he’d remembered your offhand comment about your favorite sandwich. 

You put the wrapped sub down on the blanket in front of you. “Could we talk before we eat?” you asked him. “I’ve got some things I want to clear up first.”

Bucky swallowed and nodded, putting down the sandwich he had gotten for himself and looked up at you through his lashes. “Go ahead, sugar,” he said.

You took a breath. “I get why you didn’t tell Lily about me,” you said slowly. “It’s new, and we’re not even really anything. So, what’s there to tell her, really? Plus, she and I didn’t really have the best first impressions of one another, so that part, I understand. What I don’t get is why you felt you needed to lie about being out on a date at all.” Bucky opened his mouth to say something, but you weren’t finished. 

“I can’t even begin to tell you how many calls I got toward the end of my marriage that went just like the one you had with Lily last night. All the times Connor assured me he was just “out with the boys,” when, in reality, he was with his mistress. So, I guess, hearing you tell Lily you were with Sam for a ‘guys’ night’ was kind of triggering.” You sighed, heaving your shoulders. “I need to know, and I need you to be honest with me: Is there something going on between the two of you? Is that why you felt the need to lie to her about being out with me?”

Bucky shook his head vehemently and made a face of mild disgust. “Major, no– there’s never been anything between us,” he said. “I won’t lie, Lily is very important to me– as a friend– she was the first new one I made in almost eighty years, and she stuck by me when I was going through a really difficult time in my life, when I really hadn’t given her much of a reason to, but in terms of anything romantic, or sexual? Never.”

You tilted your head, considering his words. He seemed sincere, though if you had been a good judge of when a man you had feelings for was lying to your face, your marriage to Connor would probably only have been a fraction as long as it was.

“Alright,” you said, choosing in the moment to believe him, “so, if you’re as close as you say, and there’s nothing romantic between the two of you, it makes it even stranger that you lied to her about being out on a date last night.”

Bucky looked down, toying with a loose thread on the blanket you both sat on. “At the time,” he said, not looking up at you, “not telling her the truth seemed like a good idea. It didn’t really cross my mind that I was lying… more like ‘just not telling her the truth yet.’ I was really looking forward to seeing you again, doll,” he told you, his eyes now rising to meet yours, “ and telling Lil… well, it felt like I was needlessly complicating things."

You let out an exasperated sigh. “None of that explains to me the why behind it, Bucky,” you said. “Why would telling your best friend complicate things? 

“I just didn’t want her getting involved in our business before the two of us even knew what our business was,” he said, as if that made everything clear.

“But, shouldn’t your best friend knowing your business be, I dunno, a good thing?” you asked him in frustration, wanting to reach out and shake him. You felt like you were going around in circles. “Shouldn’t she be happy for you?”

“Of course!” he exclaimed. “Of course she’ll be happy for me. It’s just…” He heaved a heavy sigh. “Lily’s always had… opinions about every girl I’ve ever dated, and she’s never made it a point of keeping them to herself. I mean, most of the time, she ends up being spot on, and the relationship flops, but this…” he moved to place his hand over yours where it rested on the blanket, “with you? I wanted to enjoy it before she makes those opinions known.”

You turned your hand over and squeezed his. The full truth of the situation had clicked into place for you at his words, and the realization brought both intense clarity and an all too familiar heartache. “All my life, I’ve been… impulsive,” you told him. “I jump head first into things, without thinking about the consequences. It’s how I got into the Army, ended up with Connor, hell, even how I started my business. Sometimes it works out, but…” you  heaved a sigh, “usually it tends to blow up spectacularly in my face. I don’t want this to blow up in my face, Bucky.” 

The confusion in Bucky’s face as he took in your words was evident. “What are you saying, doll?” he asked.

You took a moment, considering your next words carefully. “I… I really like you,” you began as a wide grin broke out across his face. “Probably more than I should for a person I just met a few days ago, but the truth of it is, I’ve seen this story play out before, and I’m not sure I could handle opening my heart to you, only to have you leave me for the best friend you swore I’d never have to worry about.”

Bucky took both your hands in his own, a look of desperation crossing his face. “Sugar,” he said, then cleared his throat. “Major. I don’t know how many other ways I can tell you that I just don’t see Lily that way,” he said. “Hell, I don’t think I’ve ever seen any dame the way I see you. You’ve got me feeling all kinds of ways I’ve never felt before.”

His words were sweet, and you felt your heart soften, but you had to remind yourself: you’d heard words just like it before. “Look,” you said, pulling your hands away from his, “maybe you don’t , but it seems pretty obvious, even as an outsider, that her feelings for you are stronger than just friendship. I don’t want to lose my heart to you if you’re going to realize that you belong with someone you’ve known for years, instead of a one-night stand that went on for too long.”

Bucky reeled back as if you’d slapped him and closed his eyes in a grimace. “That is never,” he began, a pained expression clouding his handsome face, “ever all that you could be to me, Major.” When he opened them again, his eyes were boring into yours, the blue gone cobalt in the growing night. “I’m not going to wake up one day and decide I want to be with Lily. I’ve had four years in close proximity with her for those feelings to develop, and they never have. I honestly can’t see why that would change, especially now that I’ve met you.”

God, you wanted to believe him, but you’d already played this role and it had nearly destroyed you, despite how nonchalantly you acted about it. “Does she know that, Bucky? Because, to be completely honest with you, on the night we met, both Nat and Wanda advised me not to get involved with you, because of her.”

His face blanched at the admission. “What?! Why would they say that?”

“They warned me,” you clarified, hoping that you weren’t betraying any trust with your new friends and only feeling mildly bad that you were divulging Lily’s secret, “that Lily wasn’t a ‘girl’s girl;’ she was a ‘Bucky’s girl,’ only, you didn’t know it.”

“But she–” he spluttered, “she– we– she never– she’s never said anything. She’s never acted…” He was at a loss for words, and you could tell that the information had genuinely taken him by surprise. Despite what Lily may feel for him, it didn’t seem like he ever suspected it.

“Maybe I should leave you to think that over,” you said, making motions to start standing up. “Thanks for the sandwich.” Before you could even get your legs under you, though, Bucky reached out a hand and grabbed your wrist.

“Wait!” he exclaimed, gently tugging you back down to the blanket. “Why are you leaving?”

You shrugged, confused. “I figured you’d want some time,” you told him. “Decide what you want to do about her feelings.”

Bucky looked at you like you were crazy. “Doll, in what world do any feelings Lily may have about me concern how I feel about you?”

“I just assumed…” you began, but he interrupted you.

“Assumed what? That just because she’s got a crush on me, I’m gonna ignore this thing between you and I? That I’m gonna develop feelings for her, outta nowhere, I might add, and just forget all about you?”

You shrugged your shoulders sheepishly. “Yeah, actually,” you said.

“You idiot,” Bucky said, shaking his head  with a gentle smile and a soft laugh. He put a hand behind your head and pulled you forward until your foreheads were leaning together. “I sincerely mean this when I tell you I don’t give a fuck about Lily’s feelings,” he said.

You both widened your eyes at the perceived callousness of the statement. 

“Fuck,” Bucky backpedaled, backing his head away from yours a little “that came out soundin’ awful, and definitely not how I meant it.” He ran a hand nervously through his hair. “Of course I care about her feelings– she’s my friend– I just mean… shit. Just, obviously, I feel bad if me not reciprocatin’ hurts her, but there’s nothin’ I can really do for it, y’know? Because it doesn’t change my feelings, and it’s not gonna change my feelings. 

And shit, you believed him. 

“You know what?” Bucky said, as if an idea had suddenly come to him. “Here.” He reached under the collar of his shirt and pulled out his military dog tags. Lifting them over his head, he slowly draped them around your neck.

“Bucky,” you said, fingering the embossed metal, “what…?”

“Think of it this way,” he said, “you, of all people, know what these tags mean to a soldier. Since I came outta cryo, came back to myself, not a single person has worn them, ‘cept for me. I’ve had girlfriends ask– hell, Lily’s asked– but it never felt right.” He brushed a strand of hair back from where it had fallen into your face when you’d looked down at the tags. “But with you, it feels right. So, if you’re afraid that I’m gonna up and decide that I’d rather be with Lily, or fuck, anyone else but you, I want you to look at those tags and remember that you’re the one I’m picking, Major.”

You swallowed. You did know what those tags meant. Commitment. Trust. An unbreakable bond. Wordlessly, you reached around to the back of your neck, unclasping the chain that rested against your skin. 

Bucky watched your motions carefully. “Yeah,” he said, licking his lips nervously, “that was probably me moving too fast, huh? I get it– you don’t have to wear them if—”

“Shut up,” you said gently, as you removed your own dog tags from around your neck and fastened them around his. “I don’t need to wear two sets, and your neck looked so lonely without one.”

Bucky held up one of the tags so that he could examine it, and you caught the moment he registered your name and information catching the candlelight.

“Sugar,” he said, his voice cracking on the nickname. 

“You’re not the only one making a choice, Bucky,” you assured him.

He leaned in closer, taking your lips with his own, the kiss filled with the fire you’d come to associate with him, and only him. 

When you pulled apart, he rested his forehead against yours, and you could make out the glassy sheen of unshed tears in his eyes. “This is perfect. Thank you.”

You admired the way they hung from his neck for a moment, and were overcome with the sudden urge to touch them. You placed a hand over the dog tags, your name, now resting over his pounding heart. Bucky cupped his own hand over yours, pressing it against his chest.

“These look awfully handsome on you, Sergeant,” you told him with a soft smile. Bucky let out a low groan and you looked up at him, eyes questioning. “What is it?” you asked him.

Bucky’s face turned bashful and he shook his head. “Nuh uh,” he said. “Forget it.”

Oh, you weren’t going to have any of that. “Come on, Bucky,” you said, playfully poking him in his rock hard stomach. “You can tell me anything. I’m wearing your tags now,” you added in a singsong voice. “We’re practically going steady.”

Bucky’s gaze on you darkened, and he tugged at his lip with his teeth. “Okay then, if you’re sure you really wanna know.” You mirrored him, biting your lip and nodded eagerly. Of course you wanted to know what was going through his head to cause him to make such sexy sounds. “Just imagining what you’d look like wearing nothing but the tags, sugar,” he responded, his voice a low, husky whisper. “Bet it’d be the prettiest thing I ever saw.”

Well, if you weren’t going to take that as an invitation. Raising an eyebrow in his direction, you got up so that you were standing before him. Bucky moved forward, as if he were going to follow you up, a question ready on his lips, but you leaned down and gently pushed him back to the blanket, so he was propping himself up on his elbows.

Not once breaking eye contact, you slid your hands to the hem of your shirt, slowly dragging it up, over your head before tossing it to the side. Next, you toed off your shoes while you worked the buttons of your jean shorts, letting them slide down your thighs until you were standing in just your balconette and panties. You didn’t even care that you were in the middle of a public park and you were undressing for a man. All that mattered was that you were undressing for this man, and in the moment, you were willing to do almost anything he asked of you.

Bucky’s eyes roamed your body from head to toe and back again, but you weren’t finished. He’d said ‘nothing but the tags,’ after all. Reaching behind your back, you skillfully unhooked your bra, but didn’t pull it off, instead letting it sit on your chest while you slowly shimmined your panties down your thighs and kicking them off to join the rest of your discarded clothes. Bucky’s breath hitched as he took in your near nakedness, and you almost giggled at the visible tenting taking place in his jeans. 

Clutching the bra to your chest, as if you were shy, you slowly got down on your knees and crawled up Bucky’s thighs. Finally, you let the bra fall away, and Bucky’s wide eyes never left your breasts as he licked his lips. You palmed him through the fabric of his pants.

“I believe I once said something about wanting this down my throat,” you told him with a wicked smile.

<- Previous Part / Next Part ->

[wandasmistress]

Revelations and Reprimands

Synopsis- Wanda overhears the conversation you have with Tommy and Billy when you think she isn't around, she is not pleased one bit when hears what you utter.

Pairings- Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Warnings- Bad parenting (?)

Word Count- 3k

A/N- Gonna post this then dip for a few months. To my followers tho, stay super freaky, have great vagina, I love yaa!!

➵➶➴➵➶➴➵

The rays of sun up above were beating down on your exposed neck like an insistent hot skillet clad onto your back, the sweat glistened on your body making you look like a sizzling hot dog amongst the raging flames on a grill. The heat is the reason why you were only in a white tank top paired with old basketball shorts that have garnered numerous paint stains from moving into your current home a few years ago.

The blaring heat also being the cause for Tommy and Billy to be doused in layers of sunscreen as they protested against Wanda who was stern with them that she didn't want them to get sunburnt, making it her mission to lather every inch of their exposed skin.

As Wanda looked out the window she couldn't help but smile at the sight she had trouble keeping her eyes off of as she prepared a grand lunch for you and the boys. 

She was positioned in front of the sink washing the freshly picked strawberries from her very own garden that she took much pride in bragging about at PTA meetings and in her gardening Facebook group. Constantly glancing out the window to see your crouched form near the sliding back door, spray bottle in hand as you portrayed a concentrated demeanor coupled with Billy and Tommy’s kidlike shouts as they played on the swings with huge toothless smiles that made her heart spin thousands of times over. 

The cold water running down her fingers as she rubbed the ripe berries was a stark contrast to the heat berating you, but not more annoying than the bugs that sought to unionize in various places in your home. Pain from a stiff back and exhausting heat outweighed waking up at three am with a certain someone ripping all the sheets from the bed swearing to have seen a colony of ants congregating by her pillowside. Coupled with the constant excuses Tommy and Billy gave during dinner time, claiming there were tiny critters crawling around in their greens which was a clear lie, although the slight tensing of Wanda’s jaw showed her irritation.

Deciding to multitask with your outside chores, a large white garbage bag is stationed next to your figure, stuffed with various weeds that you had previously pulled from the ground. Now was the perfect opportunity to get this done so Wanda was no longer on your ass, complaining about how the weeds made her garden look messy. You, never being able to say no to her, made the decision for the chores to be completed sooner than later a reality.

Just as you set down the bug repellent to yank a dwindling mini weed, out of the corner of your eye you catch a literal settlement of small and big ants scurrying in a single file line. Your hand already grabbing the spray bottle as you didn’t hesitate to hose down the small colony. Eyes scrunched as you watched the ants scatter and disassemble.

What you failed to notice was Billy’s approaching figure with a quizzical look etched onto his juvenile face. As he came up from behind you with a question on the tip of his tongue Tommy rushed from behind, trying to get him to come back to the swings.

“C'mon Billy, one more round on the swings then we can have a slide race!” Tommy gasped out, his features exuding pure happiness as he attempted to tug his brother along. How he wasn’t breathless from running that long distance to where Billy was standing was something that stuck to the back of your mind.

But Billy was too focused on what you were doing, Tommy’s uproar of a claim already catching your attention and making you aware of their presence, your head twisting in their direction with a smirk represented on your face.

Just then Tommy let out a small squeal at the putrid smell that had just entered his nostril, his small hands coming to cover his nose swiftly.

“Don’t be such a baby, Tommy, it’s just bug repellent. Look mama’s using it to kill the bugs.” Billy stated with a smug smile on his face, knowing that statement would trigger him in some way because Tommy loved to claim he knew everything using the fact that he was older to support that idea. 

The smile on your lips broadens at the banter going on between the prepubescent boys that had started to occur after Billy’s words. “Hey, maybe you guys should take your talk over there. Your mom would kill me if she knew I had you guys over her next to these heavy chemicals.” You remarked as you pointed your gloved finger towards the play set with raised eyebrows.

But that idea was quickly cut off when Billy pointed his stubby pointer finger in the direction of the ground, your gaze turning to yet another wave of ants. You motioned for the boys to move back as you release another wave of chemical death toward the pests. A fresh wave of wind shifted some of the rancid mist in the direction of the boys. Billy’s face scrunched up in disgust while Tommy had let out a mantra of words that you’d never thought you hear come from his mouth in all his youthful glory.

“Holy shit! That stinks.”

An automatic laugh escaped from your mouth before you could really process the situation, Billy’s laughter not helping you reel in your initial shock to chastise Tommy. You blow out some air from your mouth before you try to act like an adult and reprimand him for his language. But the sight of Billy with his hands on his head and huge toothless beam made the thought of telling the kid who stood in anxiousness off. 

“Mama, why are you killing the bugs if they are outside?” Tommy asks in a haze of innocence.

You bite down on your bottom lip trying to find a reasonable answer to tell the young children, “These bugs tend to get inside no matter how hard I try to block them from the inside, you guys aren’t leaving the windows open when you’re not supposed to right?” You add at the end that gets some playful laughter out of the boys. Billy and Tommy chuckle as they grab their bellies, shaking their heads in the negative.

Their cheery laughter makes you look back towards them and question their honesty as you raise your eyebrows with a knowingly look in their direction, the only expression each of them gives is an expression with wide eyes and pressed lips, a look that you have known well when confronting them about their naughtiness. 

You exert a low chuckle at their mischievous behavior, “Don’t tell your mommy I said this but I think it’s her, she’s always leaving them open in our room and in the kitchen.” Silly beams were planted on their faces as they listened closely to your words.

You motioned them closer with your fingers, trying to create more distance from where you guys were huddled and the window you could see Wanda from, who was occupied with her back turned in the kitchen, “Hey listen, when I was in the backyard one day I could hear her singing in our room from all the way down here. Definitely better than Auntie Agatha’s.” 

Loud chuckles are released from their small lungs, the boys go into an uncontrollable fit of laughter when you mentioned Agatha’s not-so-enjoyable singing that she had no problem sharing when she came over every other weekend.

While the boys are coming down from their laughing fit you are quick to spray a spider web that has made its way awfully close to a window that was unsurprisingly cracked open. 

“These damn spiders keep coming back, so I thought if I kill their family they won’t feel at home here anymore. No more children to practice teaching how to spin a web with, and no more momma for them to find pleasure with.” You unconsciously spit out, whispering the last part under your breath. Forgetting the presence of your kids and their innocent minds for a split second, when you do there is a slight freeze in your motions afterward, but what’s the harm if Wanda isn’t around to hear it?

Unfortunately, Wanda had heard every word of that sentence. What you failed to realize was her presence leaning on the threshold of the backyard door. During the time you had been talking to Tommy and Billy, she had fully set up the outside table for the lunch she had completed, only staying to watch you three with a bright smile on her face when she heard the gracious laughter of her godsent boys.

A warm style remained on her face as she watched the sight of you three naturally conversing, but that snug smile quickly vanished from her face the second she heard that far-fetched sentence spoken into existence by you. A cloud of hurt waved over her just elated demeanor, as you told the story about killing the spiders family so it would no longer find your house a home and stay, it hit her close to home in the chest making her hug her stomach as a slight storm brewed within her.

A second before she was about to interrupt the laughter coming from the boys she witnessed something she wouldn’t have thought to occur for years, that specific something coming from her ten-year-old boys. She witnessed Billy and Tommy turning towards each other to exchange whispers with one another, fear and apprehension laced Billy’s face as Tommy had a poised expression. After their whispers, they nodded their heads toward one another and looked your way with that mischievous look they tended to hold when they were about to commit an indecent act.

“Fuck that spider's family.” Tommy voiced brazenly, his and Billy’s eyes gauging your reaction. Waiting to see if you would berate them like Wanda would have if she heard those words come from their mouths. After all, between their two parents, you were definitely the more laid-back one who let more things slide when you shouldn’t.

Wanda’s blood began to simmer at the lack of your reaction, her head tilting to the right as her jaw slightly clenched. Her infuriation rose to an all-time high when you turned around with a smirk on your face and uttered a string of words that managed to turn her evening completely upside down.

“That’s right, fuck their families.” The two giddy children broke into another fit of laughter at your lack of care for what the older twin had spewed moments ago and your response. All the laughter in the next moment immediately stopped with brief words coupled with a tone so daunting all the color drained from you and the two youngsters' faces.

“Thomas. William. Wash your hands.” Her tone was eerily calm as her eyes remained on your frozen figure and nowhere else. The boys quickly looked in her direction while avoiding eye contact, scurrying past her so she couldn’t scold them even for a second. When the boys were out of eyesight her gaze rested on you coldly, your eyes aimed towards the patio as your teeth kept your lower lip interlocked and your thoughts running rampant on all the possibilities of Wanda giving you a much-needed earful. 

Now Wanda knew where the trait of avoiding eye contact when in deep trouble came from which was deeply rooted in the boys. Being shaken out of her thoughts as your figure ascended into a standing position, your eyes finally met her. Wanda still held an appalled look, her eyes staring deadly into yours. A small whimper was released from your parted lips at her chilling glare. You don’t know how much she heard and you didn’t want to know, the thought of the unknown not bothering you in the slightest.

Putting down the bug killer and plopping your dirty garden gloves next to the canister, you make your way over to Wanda’s intimidating figure. A big lump in your throat prevents you from emitting coherent words from your mouth, you stand in front of Wanda, your ability to talk has suddenly disappeared and now you are looking foolish.

Although it doesn't show on your face your heart is thumping so hard like a sledgehammer is consistently pounding on your heart due to the panic coursing through your bones. Wanda’s silence coupled with her intense stare starts to move some gears inside of you that aren’t so appropriate for this situation. With your thoughts being loud, also before you can knock those thoughts out of your head she helps you, “Y/n.”

You stutter with a mixture of fear and nervousness from her intense gaze, “Ok, my bad. You know when you look at me like that it ju-” 

But she is quick to cut you off, not wanting you to deter the conversation from its true purpose, “Don’t.”

That instant you shut up and keep your lips sealed, shaking your head as a fidgety gesture. Her tone assures you of the wrath that is about to come, and rightfully so. Her hands are still crossed as she starts raining down her thoughts of pure discontent with your actions toward allowing the boys to behave that way without a scolding.

Billy and Tommy have neglected to actually go and wash their hands for lunch, instead peaking around the kitchen counter to witness Wanda uncrossing her arms, gesturing frantically with her arms. Your face is filled with regret as you shake your head after every word she says, not daring to utter a single word.

The children watch from beyond with wide eyes and stunned faces, Wanda’s voice starting to rise slightly as you fail to respond to any of the questions she asked. Tommy turns around to Billy with a worried expression, “Does this mean they are gonna divorce?” He whispered, his small body filled with too much unease. 

Billy looks over with a frightened look. “No Tommy, they can’t. When people love each other they can never stop, mommy and mama included.”

Tommy wasn’t at all relieved at Billy’s statement, his worry growing tenfolds at possibly being the cause of his parents leaving each other because of his actions. The boys turned back towards their bickering parents the second they heard your voice that had been radio silent for the past minutes.

“I know baby, I was joking. I promise you I didn’t mean any of it.” You tried to convey to her, knowing her history, internally punching yourself over and over again for even mentioning that earlier sentence. Your hands slowly approach her wrists to provide her some comfort.

She is quick to swat your approaching hands away as her blood is still boiling, her eyebrows scrunching in exasperation, “Don’t baby me right now. You shouldn’t be telling our children stories about killing a bug's family and then proceeding to laugh about it.” She states in such vigor you internally agree to shut the fuck up for the time being, “I don’t give a fuck if you were joking, Y/n, never do that shit again.” She delivers in a tone of finality, her head tilt returning again.

You shake your head in silent agreement, accepting the fact that you fucked up and need to do better. As you look away from Wanda’s piercing evergreen eyes you catch sight of Tommy and Billy peaking at you two from the kitchen, your eyebrows rising in surprise which causes Wanda to turn around and catch sight of them too.

Wanda lets out a strained sigh, pressing her palm against her forehead, not wanting Billy and Tommy to see their parents arguing has gone completely out of the window. Rubbing the creases on her forehead away before she makes eye contact with both of the boys.

Increasing the pitch of her voice she says, “I didn’t know you guys were there sorry, don’t be like your mommy, both of us.” Turning to give you a disturbing glare.

“How comes we can’t say it but you can? “Tommy suddenly implored with bunched eyebrows.

Wanda releases a quick breath in disbelief, shaking her head at the sudden gall he had to ask her such a question, “Because first of all I am an adult, but most importantly your mother.” Her previous high pitch voice was gone.

She thought she had finally cracked the audacity that spawned in the twins today but was taken aback when the next moment they turned their heads whispering to one another then snickering, Billy shoving Tommy’s shoulder with wide eyes, albeit still giggling. You stood where you were, with no intention of getting scolded again or going in between the wrath of Wanda and her parenting. 

Wanda tells them to share what they want to hide so badly, causing Billy to immediately stop his laughter and look like a dear caught in headlights, his eyes looking over to you for a semblance of help that you were afraid to even think about giving, fearful of Wanda’s deathly gaze adorning you again.

Tommy like the brave soul he has consistently appeared to be this evening had no problem telling Wanda what he was just whispering in his twin's ear, “Since that spider's family is dead now they don’t have a momma to pleasure…that it should come find you like Mama said earlier.” He ends with a finger pointing in your direction, practically slapping you while he is at it.

Fuck. Your facial features, body, breathing, and hell even heart stopped for those unsettling few seconds of silence, no one dared move as the tension was almost visible. Your eyes glued onto Wanda’s figure, her body unmoving, but damn was her mind was whirling with a million thoughts swimming words she rather the boys not hear at their young age. 

Your blood runs ice cold as you see Wanda slowly turn her head back in your direction. Her facial features are void of emotion as she deeply stares into your soul. You kept eye contact with her, afraid to even move a single muscle after she waved the twins away to their rooms. And once you saw her head tilt to the right you swear you saw a flash of heavens gates, at least this wouldn’t be the worst way to go out, staring into the eyes of your beloved wife who would be putting you there.

“Y/n!”

Oh shit. Yes oh shit indeed.

»

[blogfullofemos]

Miguel on Supportive Husband Duties

Okay, me 🤝 lactation kink and Miguel O'Hara breathing the same air. This man has every right to be a Daddy in me 😲 (I meant to write in my eyes but as you can see, the mind never lies at night). But enough about me, enjoy this depravity of mind. It's really not THAT filthy. Also give your girl some feedback, let me know how you truly feel lmaoo.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!reader

Summary: A heated debate becomes the prime example of what not to do when you're expecting.

Warnings: Lactation, a lot of descriptive words to explain how lactation works, oral fixation on it.

Word Count: 1836

Enjoy you filthy scalawags. I love it though. 😈

   Miguel sat back with crossed arms as he watches the scene play out before him. Calling, for yet another, group meeting to better the team on catching anomalies. Something he much rather have done himself. “But Miguel you have to see the broader picture....”, “Miguel just hear me out…”, “Miggyy can you just give it a chance…” your voice echoes within his tension headache. Intentionally staring at you from across the table while you were deep in the throes of passionate word spar about tree branches with the group. He wondered why you were getting so aggravated by such a small thing that Peter, of all people, would bring up. Putting all the spiders in the room (Jessica, Gwen, you, Hobie, Pavitr, and Peter) into a whirlpool of sassy remarks and quick rebuttals. Even Mayday had her say in it; loudly babbling and blowing wet raspberries as she sat on the middle of the table. 

    He silently seethed in annoyance as he continued to observe. Jessica, Gwen, Hobie, and Pavitr in one ring. You and Peter in the other. Mayday just being her usual chaotic evil to even out the playing the field. He saw as your face slowly redden and eyes watered over time, constantly having to adjust something about yourself while you tried to catch your bearings. Miguel’s brow rose at your odd composure, “ALRIGHT, EVERYONE CALLATE!!” he roars slamming his hands on the table while lurching forward. He did it on your behalf, not too sure if you were becoming too uncomfortable by the situation. But he could definitely tell you were overwhelmed. Shockingly everybody’s incessant yelling dwindled down into sly laughs and a few sucking of the teeth. Mayday just simply turning her back to him. “NOW LET’S FOCUS ON SOMETHING MORE IMPORTANT!! LIKE CATCHING ANOMALIES!! THE REASON THAT WE CAME FOR!!” he continues to yell, as his hands gave a theatrical display to his words.

    Miguel sits back down and sighs in relief, “Now I know tree branches be whacking us off our game, but it just shows that we need to be more vigilant.” He says pinching the bridge of his nose. Albeit he lost a few anomalies because of those hellish whips of leaves, its why he much prefers a city landscape. Like mostly all the spiders do. “It’s all about timing and-.”. Jessica clears her throat.

“The velocity of the swing guys. I don’t have it fully down myself, but I’ve gotten better. Now to the anomalies.”

“Uh Mig-.”

“Shut. Up. Peter. The anomalies are only getting stronger and wiser. Wiser. That’s what-.”

“MIG!!” Mayday babbles clear enough to shock Miguel out of his technical rant. Stopping him from massaging his nose to ease the tension headache still beating at his temples. He looks at Mayday, who’s now in her dad’s arms, and points at you with furrowed brows. Making everyone’s eyes slowly travel from her to you, as you bring your eyes down to where she was pointing. Two apparent dark spots rest on your green shirt, making you and Miguel realize the reason why Mayday tried to say her first ever word. In seconds you stood up and covered your chest, your face turning back a brighter shade of red as you rushed out a “I need to go to the bathroom.”, before awkwardly stumbling away from your seat and running out the door. “Now Mayday, what did I say about pointing.” Peter says as Miguel gets off his seat to follow behind your trails.

     As he enters his private bathroom, he can hear your sniffles bounce from the walls. It didn’t take him long to see you wiping your eyes with tissues as you looked at yourself in the mirror. “This is so embarrassing!” you sob, throwing the tissue into the sink. 

“It’s only natural bebita.” he goes behind you and rests his chin on your head looking at you through the reflection; “S’nothing to beat yourself up over.” He finishes as he wraps his arms around you. But before he could fully pull you into an embrace, you hiss and push his arms away instantly making him drop them. You whine as you spin to rest your head on his chest, “It hurts Miguel.” You inform him quietly as he brushes the back of your head. Miguel closes his eyes as he racks his brain from jumbled lewd thoughts to more empathetic solutions. Giving the top of your head a peck, he simply states “Take off your shirt.”. You look up at him with watery doe-full eyes, making every state of his being fight to stay as innocent and professional as ever. He gives you a reassuring smirk before giving you a peck to your lips, “Trust me carino.” He soothes.

   You move away from him once more to take off your shirt, following your now soaked bra. Exposing your full breasts before him, and god did it awaken the urge he always had for you. You sniffled as you wiped your eyes with your hands, slowly calming down knowing it’s just you two. Miguel looks at you “You okay?” he asks touching base once more.

“Yeah.”. Miguel looks at your heavy breast, seeing as your veins became more apparent under your skin. This wasn’t his first rodeo helping his lover through the milestones of childbearing, but he could tell it was yours. “Alright bebita, so all you have to do is massage your breasts.” he instructs, keeping his distance between you two. He didn’t want to fully take charge of the situation, not knowing if it would make you uncomfortable and also wanting you to learn by your own. So he just decided to guide you. You place your hands on your breasts and make a stuttered side to side motion, “Like this?” you say looking at yourself. Miguel bites his bottom lip as he shakes his head, with an unapproving hum. The size difference between your hands and breasts just so treacherously sinful that his cock has something to say about it. “More of a circular motion around your areola, and you must make sure you apply enough pressure to help the milk flow out. As you do try to pinch your nipple throughout the process.” he instructs.

    “Okay.” you affirm, trying to find your rhythm with the session. After a few minutes of you focusing on yourself, Miguel quickly sees your frustrations build up as only small spurts left your swell mounds. In seconds you let out an exasperated sigh as you throw your hands down, “Miguel don’t just stand there!! Help me!!” you yell and that’s all he needed to hear. In seconds his broad hands takes a firm hold of your breasts, making you let out a quiet “Oh.” As you move back. The bathroom sink stopping your in an instant, “Watch me carino.” He coos, making your cheeks flare with unabashed lust. You loved when his voice instinctually sung to you, warm and enticing. “Yeah okay.” you say breathless, looking down at your hand covered breasts. You watch as Miguel meticulously massaged your breasts with a firm circular motion, hissing as you grip the edge of the sink. “I know bebita. It only hurts the first few times you do it, promise.” He says lovingly. After a few more moments, your milk starts flowing freely easing your pain drip by drip. You throw your head back as you close your eyes, breathing out in content, lavishing at the feel. As you bring your head back, you look up at Miguel and smile. Flashing reddish/brown eyes looking back at you with shaky restraint, “You’re making a mess bebita.” He taunts as his hands deepen the massage. You bite your bottom lip, stifling a moan “Yeah… W-well where else is the milk going to go?” you quip. Suddenly you watch as his eyes stay its reddish hue as he pinches one of your nipples to go at even level to the other.

    “Where it truly belongs.” he coos once more, before wrapping his lips around your budding nipple. In an instant your washed with an intense feeling of overwhelm as you feel him suckle you. Your legs trembling to stay still while you take hold of his head. You throw your head back again, unable to watch the man you love before you drink your milk with such fervor. You moan as you feel his teeth slightly pinch while his tongue prodded and lapped at your nipple. Hearing him audibly take in every gulp. As he finished his job on that breast, he popped his mouth off and you looked back to him. His hair becoming a sweaty mess as his dress pants were making his desires more apparent to you. His eyes lull like he’s already milk drunk. If only you knew how drunk he was on the prospect of fucking you right on the bathroom sink. Nice and quick, but he didn’t want to ruin anymore of your clothes. Evening out his breaths he looks at you, “Last one.” He says with a smirk. Suddenly you watch as Miguel licks the milk from the back of his hand before latching onto you again. Your body naturally rutting out for some friction as the lewd display ignited the dam to crack within you. You try to look away and distract yourself with something in the space, but Miguel pops off and tells you “Keep your eyes on me bebita.”. And you obey, god do you obey when you see him kneel in front of you. He nips your nipple making you hiss and tug his hair, earning a roll of his eyes and a grunt as he drank. You realize his other free hand is now between his legs, squeezing himself when he gets too flustered. 

      He lets milk seep out the corners of his mouth, making you thoughtlessly say “I want a taste.”. He moans as he squeezes himself again, his cock aching treat his baby right. After a few more swallows, he gathers as much milk as he could from your diminishing supply and pops off. In seconds he takes your lips with his in a bruising kiss, making you lean over the sink so the back of your head rest on the mirror. You taste your milk as he swaps it from his mouth to yours and swallow, gripping his shirt sleeve as you feel his hand cup your covered sex. After a few more tongue dances and rubs to your sensitive bundle of nerves, you break the messy make out. “Not here.” You say catching your breath.

“Need you.” Miguel pleads rubbing his head with yours like a cat.

“I know baby.” You give his lips a peck “But we need to get back before they truly suspect what we were doing was right. I’m in their heads enough today.” You conclude pushing him off and away from you.

“Now give me your shirt and lets go end this meeting, if they haven’t gotten the hint yet.”

[dinodontwait]

Lost but Found!

Pairing: Jeon Wonwoo x fem!reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers(?), forest au

Summary: Getting lost in the forest was not on your bucket list but who are you to complain if that means you get to spend time with one of the hottest guy you have ever met!

Warning: 18+, smut

Word Count: 1250

A/N: DON'T READ IF YOU AREN'T 18 AND ABOVE!

This is the first time I'm writing smut so please let me know if there are any mistakes!

The argument with my friends had started innocently enough, a spark that quickly ignited into a blazing fire. The flames of tension danced around our campsite, fueled by misunderstandings and pent-up emotions. As the voices rose, I found myself entangled in a web of conflicting opinions.

"I can't believe you would do this without consulting us," Emma's accusing tone sliced through the evening air, the warmth of the campfire unable to thaw the chill in her words.

Frustration welled up inside me. "We're a group, and decisions should be made together. I can't be expected to just go along with everything!"

Mia, always the peacemaker, tried to mediate. "Let's calm down and talk about this, guys. Yn, maybe we should've discussed the plans before."

But the tension was already palpable. I felt my patience slipping away, and my voice took on an edge. "Discuss? When have we ever had time to discuss anything? You two always make decisions, and the rest of us just follow!"

In the heat of the moment, I declared my intent to leave the campsite. The argument had reached a point of no return, and I stormed away, my footsteps carrying me into the heart of the forest, away from the echoing accusations and strained friendships.

Lost in my own thoughts, the forest's shadows seemed to consume me. With each step, I became more entangled in the labyrinth of trees and underbrush. Panic set in as I realized I had no idea where I was or how to find my way back.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a dusky hue over the woods, my phone's battery dwindled, exacerbating my isolation. That's when I heard the footsteps. The rustling leaves and snapping twigs alerted me to the presence of someone else. I spun around, heart racing, to see a tall figure emerging from the shadows. It was a young man, and the fading light revealed his face – a kind, reassuring smile softened his features.

"Hey, are you lost?" the guy asked, concern evident in his voice. "I heard you from a distance and thought you might need help. By the way, I am Wonwoo!"

Relieved but wary, I shared my predicament with Wonwoo after giving my introduction. "My friends and I got into this argument at the campsite. It just escalated, and I needed some space to clear my head. I decided to find my way back to civilization, but the forest is disorienting, and my phone has no signal."

Wonwoo's eyes reflected understanding. "I get it. Camping trips can be both exhilarating and challenging. It's easy for tensions to rise when everyone is under pressure."

I nodded, appreciating his empathy. "I thought I could find an exit, catch a bus, and leave this mess behind. But now, I'm lost, and it's getting dark."

Wonwoo gestured towards a path leading deeper into the woods. "Well, luckily for you, my grandparents' cabin is just up ahead. It's a peaceful place, and I think it might offer you the solace you're seeking."

Hesitation gnawed at me, but with no other options in sight, I decided to trust Wonwoo. The path unfolded before us, and as we ventured deeper into the woods, the towering trees formed a natural canopy, filtering the dimming sunlight.

Finally, we reached the clearing where the charming cabin stood. Soft lantern light spilled from the windows, creating a warm and inviting atmosphere. The cabin itself seemed to blend seamlessly with nature, a testament to the craftsmanship of its construction.

Wonwoo unlocked the door, and the creaking hinges revealed a cozy interior. Wooden furnishings adorned the space, a crackling fireplace taking center stage. Plush chairs were adorned with warm blankets, and the flickering flames cast dancing shadows on the walls.

As I stepped inside, the rustic charm enveloped me, replacing the tension with a sense of tranquillity. "Thank you" I murmured, genuinely grateful for the unexpected refuge.

Wonwoo disappeared into the kitchen, returning with the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee. We settled by the fireplace, the warmth seeping into my bones as we sipped from the mugs.

As the fire crackled, I began recounting the events that led me to this point, from the brewing tension among friends to my impulsive decision to venture into the forest. Wonwoo listened attentively, offering a sympathetic ear that eased the weight on my shoulders.

"I visit this cabin once or twice a year," Wonwoo shared. "It's a family getaway, a place to reconnect with nature and find some peace. I never expected to bring someone here under such circumstances, but I'm glad I could help."

The night air on the balcony held a gentle breeze, and the subtle rustling of leaves contributed to the enchanting melody of the forest. Wonwoo and I settled into the comfortable wooden chairs, the moon casting a soft glow upon the world around us. Laughter and shared stories painted the atmosphere with warmth.

As we spoke, the connection between us deepened, the barriers of unfamiliarity breaking down with each passing moment. Wonwoo's eyes sparkled in the moonlight, his laughter resonating with a sincerity that stirred something within me.

A distant growl rumbled through the forest, interrupting our conversation. Startled, I instinctively clutched onto Wonwoo, the abrupt sound sending shivers down my spine. "What was that?" I asked, a mixture of fear and excitement lingering in my voice.

Wonwoo's laughter echoed, a soothing and melodic response to my unease. "Just a forest dweller claiming its territory. They're more afraid of us than we are of them. You're safe with me."

Embarrassed by my reaction, I offered a sheepish smile. "I guess I'm not as brave as I thought."

"No need to be brave when you have someone to lean on," Wonwoo replied, his words carrying a subtle invitation. He took my hand gently, intertwining our fingers.

The atmosphere shifted, a shared understanding passing between us. The night embraced us in its quiet intimacy, the balcony becoming a haven for connection. The moonlight illuminated the vulnerability in Wonwoo's eyes, and I felt a magnetic pull drawing me closer.

Wonwoo's thumb traced soothing circles on the back of my hand, and without exchanging words, the air crackled with anticipation. In that quiet moment, he cupped my face, his eyes searching mine for consent.

"You don't have to be alone in the forest, Yn," he whispered, his voice a gentle promise.

A profound understanding passed between us, and as our lips met in a deep, lingering kiss, the world around us disappeared. I don’t know how we ended up on his bed naked!

He grinned that cocky grin and pushed himself inside me, achingly slowly.

I hissed in relief at the delicious pressure. He pulled out and slid back in again, just as slowly. It felt so good, yet not enough.

"This is torture."

"I know. That's why I'm doing it." He slid into me one more time, possibly even slower than before.

I couldn't take it and glared at him. "Fuck me like you mean it."

He took the bait. His gaze as he looked down at me was hungry. He lifted my ankles onto his shoulders and rose to his knees. He held my hips as he thrust, keeping me where he wanted me as he fucked. It felt divine.

"My god, Wonwoo, don't stop." I am past the point of any self control.

"Shit. Say that again." He didn't pause his steady rhythm, pumping in and out.

"Don't stop?"

"Say my name."

[brisquad-unit-4402]

sitting with vox and the truth

(spoilers obvs)

happy the demon hungers everyone :D i did two watchalongs with my friends i hope we all show our appreciation to vox. he’s worked very hard and he’s very considerate of us his fans

this is all just to say that after a long, long, long two weeks i would like to rest so nicely on his chest. naturally i walked into this planning to write that but it turned into another vox breakdown fic which, really, couldn’t be a better description of unit 4402 if you tried

tags: gender neutral reader, angst, themes of self-hate, vox has a breakdown, spoilers for the demon hungers and the truth, ambiguous relationship (romantic intended but can be read as platonic; reader says “i love you”)

⚠️ spoilers for the demon hungers / the truth, vox akuma.

⚠️ contains self-deprecating dialogue

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

wings of melded leather and flesh writhe in the home of vox akuma. a dethroned lord, a wretched infernal. such a a wide reach. the talons of the wing threaten to scrape the ceiling with his greater height, while the membranous tatters hang loosely. if he represented Hell it would be a king’s robe. under wall and lamplight the sheet of skin is his chain.

gravity weighs down his voice all the same. it sinks his shoulders, drips off his hair and down his back. seven feet tall, with a shadow to cast over your body so small in comparison, and yet wind could knock him over as he stands his ground. the familiarity of gold within his eyes is gone but the guilt behind it is all the same, tainted in burning-coal. the smoke around his mouth and the embers along his tongue match the char. there is no fire. he’s put that out long ago. but what was scorched refuses to dwindle down to ash, remaining orange and red and that pink you swore you could see when there was nothing good on his mind.

nothing good, you thought, jokingly and enticingly. lightly. you see now that you were right, but without the fortune of intimacy.

he is scared, if he would be willing to admit it, and he is protective which he does. it’s why his hands are buried close to his chest, the swirling black-red, clasped together as if they were weapons. they are.

“do you understand?” vox asks. “i don’t deserve your pity.”

his frame is full with rage and power held dormant.

“i don’t deserve your attention, or your patience. or your love.”

a bead of ember rises from between his teeth. it fades to room dust as he grits them together.

when they snap apart an arc of flame accompanies it.

“It’s never been deserved. It’s never been okay. I have never been okay!”

the flames curl out of the air, following where the ember once went, room dust and hot air. without his hair in his face he can’t hide from the firing squad.

he can’t hide when you step forward, either.

“Don’t.” that’s what gets him to quit yelling. it’s replaced by inhaled cinder under his breath. “No, no, don’t. Don’t. Don’t.”

and quiet, you say, “you’ve held me before.”

“Don’t. Don’t. You can’t. No. Don’t.”

“and i’m nowhere near death.”

he backs away. “You don’t know that, you don’t know that, you don’t know, you don’t.”

“we don’t choose the bodies we’re born in. or the biology we function by.”

another step back. he doesn’t trip on anything. it’s the pure magma under his blood that sends him to his knees. “Get back.” a hiccup. “Get back!” his hands form tighter to his body. “Get away from me!”

“i trust you.”

“Don’t! Don’t! No! Away!”

“you aren’t hungry anymore. and i’m not in danger. i love you.”

vox’s back thumps against the corner of the wall. his hands tear apart. a prominent vein glides down the oil-slick arm. they tangle themselves into his hair. pale fingertips along bloodied streaks. white knuckles pulling at black locks.

he screams.

he screams again when you place yourself next to him, up against the wall, and bump your leg to him.

“if you could hurt me…” your eyes lower to where your legs are placed upon his. “then this would count. but i’m still alive.”

you look up to the ceiling. his talons didn’t scratch it but his horns certainly did. “and i’m still alive, and my soul is where it should be, with me.”

you cannot recognize the sound the voice demon emits.

“so i’ll stay with you. and we’ll figure things out.” with river under your hands you rub his arm. “do you remember this? it’s what i always do when you want me to help calm you down.

“that’s what i’ll do. just let it out. and i’ll be right here, and i’ll always be here no matter what.”

it’s a guttural, throaty cry across his register. a frog scratch.

“come on.” his blood twists under your touch. veins alight as live wires. “i have all the time in the world.”

“But I have been nothing but a blight.”

“i love you as you are.”

you place your head over his chest.

the first thing that happens is the draft from his wing wrapping around your face. your vision colors red. branches of uneven membrane along the wing’s flesh. so tight around his chest you don’t see a glimpse of the outside.

the next is how vox wracks himself over the lava within his throat.

your free hand takes over attending to him as much as you can, swaddled close to his chest.

through the wing, you can see how he forces his head away when he spits a flamethrower.

when the unpredictable flames raise to you and the wing-shield, it suffocates against the flesh. you don’t feel a shred of heat.

each fire is a bellow of pain gone unacknowledged for years. you don’t think he realizes his instinct to cover you. it would be a welcome validation if he weren’t lost in his own grief.

you spend the night beside the voice demon, listening to the shred of his screams. when he finds the courage to open his eyes, he shrieks for every moment that passes with your hand upon him, and soul within your confines.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi

[girlboybug]

writing request for a smut fic with established relationship with javi x reader? dialogue prompt: javi: “he looked at you funny” reader: “i didn’t know you were the jealous type..”

OOO i like this muahaha >:) i hope you enjoy hehe, thank u for requesting!! <3

art deco

"shining like gunmetal, cold and unsure. baby you're so ghetto, you're lookin' to score."

or the one where jealousy happens to be a good look on javi.

what’s playing 🎧 : art deco by lana del rey

content warnings : SMUT, jealous!javi, blowjobs, face fucking, car sex, semi public sex (?), unprotected sex (extremely unwise w javi idk wtf he got goin on down there), creampie, breeding kink, dirty talk, themes of slut shaming, threats of exhibitionism, threats of restraints e.g cuffs, brat tamer!javi (been dying to write that)

trigger warnings : mentions/threats of gun usage, alcohol, both reader and javier are tipsy at best, if there is anything i missed pls lmk!

word count : 4k

a/n : im pulling SO MUCH out my ass w this bc i havent finished narcos and only rlly pay attention when pedro or boyd is on screen and even tho im half mexican my ass cannot speak spanish for the life of me teehee sorry yall

you’re a bad actor. 

you’re also bad at lying and honestly, just generally bad at the things javier happens to be especially good at. 

but that’s okay, javier likes you like that. it’s refreshing, endearing, to be with someone who hasn’t gotten good at lying or pretending to be someone they’re not. and actually, he’s currently watching you fail at that right now. 

you’re at the bar, swirling around your drink that he bought for you, pretending to not notice the way he’s eyeing you from across the club. he thinks it's cute how you keep stealing glances at him, giggling to yourself whenever he catches you.

you two do this little song and dance every now and then, it keeps things exciting and fun, and you never have complaints about it. 

you pretend to be the single, bored girl sitting alone at the bar, and javier just so happens to swoop in, introducing himself as the man who’s been ordering drinks for you all night, ready to charm you into his bed for the night. it’s stupid when you say it out loud, but the way he fucks you when you do this little act makes it seem like the best goddamn idea he’s ever come up with.

it’s harmless fun between a couple, and the tension you two create throughout the night is always a recipe for mind blowing sex. however, it seems things are going a bit off script tonight. 

a man invites himself to the empty barstool beside you that was reserved for javier, but he’s oblivious to the little game you’re playing right now. “hi there,” he says, grinning, and you try your best to hold back a long sigh while you greet him back politely. 

javier’s hand tightens around the beer he’s got, wishing the neck of the bottle belonged to the man staring you down. he decides he’ll keep watch for awhile, he trusts you, and wants to see how this’ll play out, despite his patience already wearing dangerously thin.

“can i buy you another drink?” he asks, motioning towards the dwindling liquid in your glass. its not a difficult question, but the answer isn’t coming to you like it should be. 

you are playing the role of a single woman tonight, and you won’t let anything go further with this guy than receiving a free drink. 

eh. why not? 

“yeah, sure, thank you.” you smile back, and he hurriedly calls over the bartender, asking for two glasses of whatever it is you ordered. javier shifts in his seat, his jaw coming down harder than it was just a moment ago as he watches you share a drink with someone that isn’t him. 

javier follows his wandering eyes, how they trail up and down your figure, making it obvious he’s wondering what you’ve got on underneath.

javier wants to walk up to him to tell him how he knows what you’ve got under that dress, because he picked it out. 

god, this night fuckin’ sucks so far. 

“i noticed you for awhile now, what’re you doin’ here all alone?” he asks, and you get a little nervous with the way he gets closer to you. “i’m just waiting for my boyfriend to show up.” you answer, deciding the single woman role didn’t feel as fun anymore. 

“ahh, i see.” he replies, and you expect him to scoot farther from you, or better yet, leave. but much to your dismay, he stays. 

“it’s just,” he starts, and you glance down at your shoes, saying a silent prayer for him to get on with what he’s got to say before he leaves you alone for good. 

“you’ve been here for awhile now, you sure he’s comin’ honey?” he questions you, faux concern in his voice and you close your eyes for a moment to hide the way they roll at him.

“yeah, i’m sure.” you reply curtly. “how about i keep you some company while you wait for him then, how’s that sound?” he gets closer than you would’ve liked, boldly resting his arm around your shoulders, and yep, that’ll do it. 

javier’s beer clatters down onto his table as he shoots up from his seat, stalking over to you. he’s quick to join you, standing tall behind your seated figure, his strong chest a familiar surface against your back. 

“uh who’re you–” 

“her boyfriend.” he answers, eyes lowered testingly, practically itching for him to give him a reason to swing. “hi baby,” you beam, turning around and craning your neck up to give him a kiss. he leans down, holding your chin while he kisses you. 

with your lips still connected, he stares at the scoffing man that just sits and watches. 

“yeah well i wasn’t the one who kept her waiting all night so why don’t you get lost? we were havin’ a conversation, weren’t we sweetheart?” he looks at you as if you’d actually agree, and you open your mouth to defend javier, but he doesn’t need you to, he’s more than eager to put this guy back in his place. 

he steps away from behind your back, moving right in front of you now, leaning in close to the man. he reaches around to his lower back, sliding his gun to the side of his waist before he’s got it in his clutch, pressing it to the man’s ribs.

“you have 3 seconds to get the fuck out my face before i stop being so polite.” he whispers in his ear, and the man stiffens with immediate fear once he registers what’s being pointed at him. 

he swivels out of the stool, hastily hopping out to make his way out the club all together. javier turns back to you once he’s out of his field of vision, expecting a profuse thank you javi, but he gets quite the opposite. 

“what the hell was that?” you question, sounding angry, and uh oh, you saw that. 

“baby,” he starts off but you just huff, climbing off the stool. “that was way too far,” you point at him and he sighs, holding your arms, rubbing them up and down, trying to settle your irritation down. 

“but he was making you uncomfortable, and you didn’t see the way he was looking at you–” 

“and what way was he looking at me for you to pull a gun out on him?” you whisper yell and he starts to join you in your frustration. 

“he looked at you…funny, like he was just thinking about fucking you the entire time.” he sounds upset that he even has to explain himself to you about this, and you catch it, deciding to throw it back at him when you turn on your heel to leave. 

he growls with annoyance as he follows you out the club, grabbing your arm and forcing you to turn back and look at him.

you exhale sharply, looking up at him, switching your weight onto your left foot. “i knew you could be a little…impulsive sometimes but jesus jav, i didn’t realize you were the jealous type that would do something so…stupid.”

his annoyance is fast to turn into a hard glare, and you see the sudden shift, instantly feeling regretful. he purses his lips to the side, laughing dryly. “stupid huh?” he clicks his tongue and you shake your head, walking closer to him now.

“javi, i’m sorry,” you try to remedy the mess of this situation, but unlucky for you, what little patience he was holding onto is now gone. 

he grabs the hand of yours that’s reaching towards his jaw, he isn’t in the mood for it. he pulls you along by your wrist to the parking lot. 

“yeah, you’re about to be baby,” he mutters, and your heart picks up, your heel clad feet in turn picking up speed to keep up with him. 

he ushers you into his backseat, slamming the door behind you once you’re both in. he tugs you into his lap, your legs on either side of him, your knees making contact with the cold vinyl. his hands find their way to your ass, squeezing it hard.

you gasp a little, arching into his chest. the second you move in closer, his lips are on your’s. it’s not gentle, it’s not slow paced, and it’s not soft, no, that’s for when you’re good. and you’ve been anything but. 

you’re grinding in his lap, his growing bulge feels perfect right up against your dampening panty clad cunt, too perfect that you can’t stop yourself. you’re moaning in his mouth, struggling to keep up the pace and intensity in the way his lips are moving with your’s. 

he tastes like beer and cigarettes, smells like it too, with traces of his cologne that you love. he’s like paradise incarnate and you want to live in him forever. 

when he pulls away you're left panting in his hold, lips parted, brushing against each other, stealing the other person’s breaths. “you know,” he sighs lowly, his words trailing up your spine, leaving shivers in their wake. 

“just because i let you pretend you’re single for the night doesn’t mean you actually are,” he says, and he sounds serious, but there’s something hidden in his air, something challenging, like he wants you to argue just so he can put you right back where you belong. 

you nod heavily like he speaks words of righteousness, cupping his jaw in your hands. “i know javi, i know,” you pepper his face in kisses, but he remains still, outwardly unphased.

“guess you just got too excited at the thought of bein’ a slut huh?” he breathes out flicking a brow at you, keeping you in close when you try to inch away from him at his accusations. 

“i’m not a slut–” he unfolds your offended arms, hands leaving your wrists to hold your thighs that rest on either side of his lap. “no baby it’s alright, s’not a totally bad thing. i like sluts. they let you do whatever you want to ‘em,” he grips your thighs, forcefully sliding you off his lap and letting you land down on your knees before him. you gasp, holding onto his legs for steadiness. 

“and they let you all while tryin’ to convince you they aren’t sluts. isn’t that funny? he chuckles, caressing your cheek, peering down at you while he does so. 

“javi,” you say, you don’t know what to say next, the only certainty that remains is that his name never sounds wrong coming from you. 

“if you wanna be a slut so bad then go ahead, i won’t stop you.” he shrugs, leaning back into the seat, arms stretched out beside him. you swallow away your stuttering, running your hands up and down your thighs. “what do you want me to do?” you ask smally, looking up at him from under your lashes. 

he readjusts, lifting his hips in the air, settling back down closer to you. he tilts his head, eyes flickering from his crotch back to your gaze, “what sluts do best baby.” he says under a gravelly breath. your thighs close just a little tighter at that, feeling eager to oblige to his insinuations. 

you unzip his levi’s, unbuttoning them before you’re pulling him from out his boxers, throat getting tight at the way he pulses in your hands. precum is already beading at his tip, and you lean forward, flicking your tongue over it. he hisses quietly, a hand coming behind your neck. 

your lips envelope the tip, shutting your eyes when you trail down until you can’t take any more of him down your throat. he groans, throwing his head back, bucking his hips into your mouth. you gag around him, hand trembling while you try to jerk off what you can’t fit into your mouth. 

he rolls his head forward, holding you by the back of your head, starting to thrust further in, chuckling to himself at the way you gag. he lets you slide off him, jerking his slick cock off while you catch your breath. 

you’re staring at each other in the thick air, the night breeze sneaking in from the cracked windows, making your nipples perk from behind your lacy bra. 

the moon glimmers through the side window facing javier, and it panels his cheekbone, across his jaw and down his chin, trickling over the curve of his collarbones. 

he looks so beautiful like this, sitting tall in front of you, looking at you like he could tear you apart with one hand, jaw clenching when your thumb slides over the head of his cock. 

the way he’s looking at you elicits a reaction from your body before your mind can reach it. you lean back down, taking him deeper into your mouth. 

you don’t mind the way he keeps your head still, using your mouth the way he likes. 

he fucks your mouth like he wants to prove a point, and at this moment he doesn’t even know what the point is, he hardly even remembers where he’s currently at, the only thing that makes sense is how fucking good you’re taking him down your throat. 

you’re being so good, so perfectly compliant for him, and what’s fueling you is the tingles exploding between your thighs at the way he’s using you. 

the grunting utterances of your name in his spewing breaths adds propellent to the roaring fire building in your lower tummy. 

his groans get a little airier, picking up in quantity, coming out one after the other, fucking your mouth so deep your nose brushes against the brown curls sitting just above his cock. “look at me,” he instructs through gritted teeth, and you listen, blinking away your teary eyes to look up at him. 

he sends one, two, three, hard thrusts into your mouth before he pulls out, resting the tip over your lips. he pants to himself, shutting his eyes closed while you take this time to do the same and catch your own breath. “what’s wrong?” you sound a little rasped, and he can’t fight the smug look on his face at your voice. 

“as much as i’d like to let you continue, i got better things planned baby,” he chuckles breathlessly, pulling you back up into his lap. 

he pushes your dress up, exhaling when he sees how wet you are in the panties he picked out for you. “javi, i didn’t bring any condoms, do you have one?” you press your hands to his chest, momentarily halting him, and he looks at you, scoffing quietly. 

“huh. sluts don’t usually care about that kinda thing.” he rubs the head of his cock over your clothed clit, watching your lowered eyes fully shut, a moan slipping out at his ministrations, proving him right. “s’not gonna fit like this,” your whimper when he moves your panties to the side, flicking himself up and down your folds. “it will baby, i’ll make it fit.” he promises, pressing a kiss to your lips.

you rarely ever got on top, he was always very adamant about taking care of you, whether that means you’re on your back, legs thrown over his shoulders or you with your wrists being hoisted by his tight grip while he fucks you senseless.

the constant is, he’s always on top. 

he’s big, no matter the position he’s got you in, it’s always a stretch he has to ease you into. which is why you’re typically reluctant to get on top, but right now he isn’t asking, he’s telling. 

“javi, s’not gonna go in like this,” you whimper nervously, curling into his chest. head on his shoulder. he rolls his eyes, fingers gliding right over your clit to shut you up. and it works, naturally, he chuckles. 

your breath gets faster when he swirls over your clit with his fingers, squirming around in his lap. he holds himself from the base of his cock, circling over your fluttering hole. your arms wrap around his broad shoulders, fingers playing with the back of his hair. 

he starts crowning into you, pushing in the fat head of his cock, pausing the breath in the middle of your throat. it rumbles out as a pained moan when he continues pushing in. “god javi,” you whine, legs on either side of him flexing with nerves at the intrusion. 

“doin’ all the work for you baby, jus’ take it for me,” he mutters in your ear, his mustache tickling your jaw while he rubs your clit to ease you into it.

“actin’ like i haven’t fucked this pussy before, know you can handle it, sè una niña grande para mí,” he murmurs, kissing your cheek, and you melt, nodding desperately. “i am,” you mumble, bracing yourself for when he bottoms out inside you. he thrusts upward, holding you by the fat your ass, pulling you down onto him. 

the air is knocked out your lungs, and all you can do is hold on to his leather clad shoulders for dear life. your hips start moving in sync, rolling into each other, and you feel insane, it feels so good, you start thinking maybe you’ll do this more often.

the sting from the stretch subsides soon, but the feeling of being full stays, and you keep it, loving how good it feels. the head of his cock nudges deep inside you, bobbing up into your throat and you fall apart, fucking yourself on him, addicted to the way he hits every little spot inside you that you need. 

you’re moaning, panting loudly in his ear, and he eats every single one of them up, gripping your hips when he guides you down onto him. kisses lay wetly across the side of his neck, teeth graze over his ear, praises of how fucking big he is, and how good he feels inside you, relay to him over and over, making his cock twitch when he picks up the pace in his thrusts. 

“you’re so nice while i fuck you baby, maybe this is how i should shut you up more often huh?” he teases, but you don’t care, you’d start arguments with him if it meant he’d always feel this good in you. 

“in so deep,” you whimper more to yourself but he hears you, he hears it all. he hears how fucking soaked you are around him, hears every little breath, every little moan that comes out of you. 

he smacks over your ass, chuckling to himself when you whine and clamp down around him. “maybe i should go find that guy huh?” he leans forward, lips on your shoulder when he ruts up into you deeper, right there to hold you closer when you keen into him at the hard thrust.

“ ‘should find him and fuck you in front of him, show him how its done, what do you think of that baby?” he grunts, hands tightening over your hips. 

you just moan, babbling something incoherent when you grind down onto him, his words acting as a lighter underneath the growing flame while you bounce on him. you squeeze around him, your body unashamed of how much you like the idea of such a dirty act. 

he feels the way you clamp down around him, chuckling breathlessly, his hand traveling behind your neck to force you to look at him. “or maybe it’s you who’d like that,” he taunts, expecting a shy shake of your head, but you just nod, trying to meet his thrusts. "i'll do whatever you want javi," you whimper pathetically, and god, that does something to him. 

"know you will, so sweet baby," he groans, leaning back to watch where you both meet, loving the sight of his cock entering and disappearing into your cunt. 

you tug at the hair from the back of his head, messily kissing all over his jaw and cheek, and he takes it all, adoring how clingy you are with him right now. he pulls the front of your dress down, hooking his fingers under the cups of your bra and groaning to himself when he sees your tits, pretty and pert under the bra, he of course, picked out for you. 

black see-through lace, his favorite. 

"gonna be the death of me, mi vida," he murmurs to himself, latching his hot eager mouth over them. he assaults the soft skin with his tongue, teeth grazing over your sensitive nipples, a smirk forming around the flesh when he teases the ghost of a bite, wanting to laugh when you squirm and arch your back at his actions. 

his fingers find their place back to your clit, rubbing over the nerves like clockwork, syncing the way you bounce on him with harder thrusts, making the pleasure surrounding you inescapable. 

breathing is getting harder, but it feels unimportant, everything does when it comes to javi. in this moment if he told you to stop breathing altogether you honestly just might listen to him. 

but it's so much so soon, and you want to hold onto the moment for as long as you can, enjoy each stroke of his cock deep inside you longer, and if he keeps touching you like this, you know you won't last. you paw at his hand, trying to push the relentless wrist away. "no more javi, m'gonna cum too fast please," you whimper, but he doesn't agree. you're finished when he's finished. 

"do i need to cuff you to the headrest or are you gonna keep those hands to yourself?" he spits, sounding harsh, sounding serious. you whine like a wounded puppy, shaking that empty little head of yours. 

"but javi," he grabs your chin, guiding your gaze downward when he moves his jacket to the side, revealing the cuffs that hang from his belt loops. "think i'm kiddin'? hands to yourself or around me. otherwise you get these. your choice," he's still inside you, and you can't take it, you throw your arms around him, hugging him close while trying to get him to move again. 

"gonna be good, gonna listen, m'sorry, please move javi, please?" 

he senses your desperation, and gives in, continuing his thrusts. you sigh in relief, following the way his hips piston up into you with your own. 

"can i touch you?" you whisper, unsure if you're allowed to, but javier relents, nodding with a kiss to your neck. you slide his jacket off eagerly, quickly unbuttoning his shirt before your hands are running along the warm skin of his shoulders, squeezing them when he thrusts right there. 

your hands drag down his chest, nails lightly digging into his tanned skin when your head falls back, rising and falling up and down on his cock. his mouth is on you again, tongue swirling over the curve of your chest, gripping them roughly in his wide palms. 

he watches you from this view, how you lose yourself when he's got his cock in you, and he thinks maybe he should have encouraged you to ride him earlier. 

he's getting close, watching you has only pulled him closer to the end, his cock twitching the more he imagines how good you'd look dripping in his cum. he imagines your trembling thighs being parted by his hands, your abused hole just leaking and leaking from his cum. 

"m'close, gonna let me finish inside mi vida?" he grunts, and you nod heavily, clamping harder down around him when he asks. "please, please javi," you beg, and who is he to deny you? 

his fingers run around your clit once more, those tight circles from the pads of his fingers bring you right there alongside with him, moaning his name in an incomprehensible voice while his face rests in the crook of your neck, bouncing you on top of him. 

"always wanted to cum in you baby, always wanted to fill you up nice an' good —fuck—, make you fuckin' full of me, just know you'd look so fuckin' good just drippin– shit," you're squeezing him like you never have before, his confessions, the ferver in the way he fucks you is just too much, your body acts before you can even process what’s happening. 

you cum all around his cock, and the pulsing of your walls, the whimpers of his name from your pretty lips is all he needs to join you in your blinding orgasm. he's cumming inside you, grunting your name and how fuckin' good you are for him, his mouth hot on your neck while he fucks you through your shared orgasms. 

he doesn't let up on your clit until the pleasure bleeds into pain, and you can't take it. with heavy breaths you collapse in his arms, panting like you've just ran a marathon, sweaty forehead resting on the cool leather of the seat. 

he gently shifts your hips backward, looking down at his cum that pours out of you. he likes the mess, likes how your cunt looks when he rubs his cum across your throbbing clit, you jump at the stimulation, begging him in a tired voice, no more javi. 

he listens, taking sympathy on your spent body. he puts your panties back over you, tucking himself away before he repositions you so you're properly sitting in his lap, letting your legs stretch across the rest of the backseat. 

"you okay mi bebita?" he murmurs softly, and you hum a sleepy yes, still buzzing from your orgasm. "still mad?" he asks jokingly, pulling a hazy giggle from you.

“i think you just fucked any anger i had left out of me." he laughs proudly at that, rubbing your back. "yeah? maybe that's how we should settle all our fights then." 

[kitaylo]

March 4, hair- @jegulus-microfic- Word count: 590

Regulus has noticed his curling cream dwindling quite quickly. The cream used to last him a month, or he made sure of it because he is not spending his last pennies on hair care products when he already has to take care of his other expensive hobbies. So, Regulus is curious as to how the cream he bought only last week is half in size today, quite curious indeed as one James Potter comes strutting through the entrance door of their apartment, whistling a tune, hair fluffier than usual.

Now, Regulus understands that the moment he moved in with James, he had to be willing to share. He doesn't mind, really, but what makes his nerves pulse is that this beautiful dark man in front of him categorically refused any hair advice or even going to the salon. He loves James, he really does, but he can be stubborn about his hair, which was least to be said a disaster. A disaster that could have been fixed had James let Regulus do his hair. Now James is in front of him, a smile tugging at his lips as he steals a kiss from Regulus. However, instead of the usual greeting that followed, James is met with a scowl. Regulus waves the jar at his face.

" Anything to say for yourself, love? " Regulus asks, an eyebrow raised.

At the sight of the jar, James blanches. He knows how much Regulus cherishes his hair products.

Regulus watches James as he squirms in his place, trying to come up with an excuse.

" so ?" He beckons him.

" I watched this YouTube tutorial on how to make my hair less frizzy and used it this morning" he finally relents.

" How did you use it? Because I can still see some frizz making clouds out of your hair"

" After my shampoo, left it for 15 minutes and then washed it away, and look, my hair is fluffier now," he said, tugging at some of his curls." Sorry, love, I should've asked you first."

Regulus eyes him for a second.

" No, it's okay. It's just that you used it wrong. This is a leave-in conditioner, you're supposed to apply it after your shower"

" oh"

" Would you like me to style your hair?" he asks.

James looks at him warily, then nods.

Regulus goes to the bathroom and comes back with a brush and a spray bottle. He sits on the couch and points at James to sit on the floor, leaving his head between Regulus's thighs. James can't help help but empathize with the men who were to be beheaded.

" You're not going to hurt me, are you?" He pouts.

Regulus only smirks, pulling James' head closer.

After an excruciating hour of Regulus spraying, conditioning, then finger coiling James' hair, curl by curl, and diffusing it; accompanied by some complaints from the thief on how Regulus is tugging hard at times, the work is finally done. Beautiful luscious curls bounced on James's head. James lifts his hand to touch them just for it to be slapped.

" Your hair is still damp. If you touch it now, it will only create more frizz." he glares at James. He takes in James looking absolutely dashing with his hair styled grabs his face, and kisses him.

The next morning, he finds James' hair back to its initial state.

" What happened to your hair? " he says, offended.

"I brushed it." he says obliviously.

Regulus doesn't know how he ended up with such a fool.

[puffein]

BLOSSOMING SEASON | late spring [viii.]

summary: edinburgh and your hatred for the season of spring as it brought you an unexpected gift. pairings: wanda maximoff x fem!reader warnings: none word count: 1682 a/n: aaaa we are nearing to the end!! enjoy!

series masterlist playlist!

Edinburgh, Scotland

Early-April, 2025

The remnants of the harsh season of winter slowly dwindles down as a month passes by since spring took place rightfully in the fresh air of Edinburgh, Scotland. 

Spring's sole purpose of diminishing the jarring frigid weather in the magical place you have now called home bequeathed you a sight to see. However, the season of blooming flowers left you more melancholy than the bleak freezing season of winter as it offered you the spectacle of what you called happiness. 

Yet, it only gave you the view not the actual feeling of elated joy. 

Unlike winter, it engulfs you wholly, like a partner with the same fate. You can be melancholy with the season of winter because it's just as sad as you are. 

So, to say honestly, you have liked winter more than this current season but the lingering smell of scented flowers sent you back reeling in as the sole of your boots glided in the streets of Edinburgh. 

You have decided today is a nice day to be out, to explore more in hopes of discovering something that has been hidden for you. Your mind has been preoccupied with these thoughts, thoughts of new hope, new beginnings, thoughts of moving on that you completely missed the rushing wheels of a bike. 

"Watch out!" A hurried incoming voice screams right at you, snapping your eyes upwards, cursing quietly as you throw yourself beside a stall. Gratitudes spurted out of your mouth as your body collapsed on the pavement instead of the goods being placed on the stall. 

Ignoring the searing pain of your body, a hand reaches out right in front of your slumped form. Looking up, you scrutinized your eyes at the figure.

"So sorry." the voice says, clutching your hands tightly while pulling you up with ease. 

You huff, brushing off the dust that has situated itself on your coat. "It's fine. This is a street, not a racing track, in case you have forgotten," you murmured.

Holding the bike with one hand, the woman barks out a laugh, "Sorry, I didn't know someone would be walking aimlessly." she gazes at you, "I'm Gray, by the way."

"You rhymed that?" 

The corners of her mouth twitch in an amused smile, "No, it just happened naturally. Maybe it's my talent?" 

A raise of an eyebrow was enough for Gray to let out a wide grin, tilting her head at how this stranger intrigued her more than the broken pedal of her treasured bike, she should be worried more about that than the unimpressed impression you carry on your face.

"Yeah, sure. Definitely not racing down the streets," you whispered, taking fast steps away from the woman with brown hair and a very familiar green eyes. 

She explicitly looks similarly like the woman you have been trying to move on from except lighter, more vibrant, and the choice of clothing she has chosen are far opposite from the ones you are familiar with. Meeting someone in spring that looks crazily alike to the person you have left at home has given you another reason to hate the current season. You decided to ignore her, moving away in haste steps, Gray has other plans though.

"Hey!" she shouts followed by murmurs of profanities under her breath as she drags her broken bike to catch up to your retreating form. "I have to treat you or something. Your palms are scratched, I'll be feeling too guilty letting you walk away." 

"It's fine. It was my fault anyway for walking aimlessly," you argued, not wanting to be in her space longer than she has been. 

You walk briskly, eyes scanning for any approaching vehicle, you take the chance of escaping by jogging to the other side of the street, leaving a slumped green-eyed woman with her broken bike.

Your figure disappears in the eyes of Gray as you rounded up a corner. She bit her cheeks too hard for missing an opportunity to experience a cliché meet-cute romance with a cute dismissive woman. She didn't even get to hear your name. In a disappointed slumping of her shoulders, Gray forces herself to move away, praying hard for fate to work its magic to meet you once again.

After minutes of leisurely walking in the waking streets of Edinburgh, you have posted yourself in a quiet café tucked in between a bookstore and a closed flower shop. Bells chimed softly as you pushed the door open, the inviting aroma of coffee made you instantly melt. 

Ordering your usual coffee from a stuttering young boy behind the counter, you placed a generous amount of tip in the empty jar as you drag yourself into the corner of the café. 

Tinkering with the sudden ringing of your phone, you straightened up to answer. "Hey, is everything all right?"

"I– I know it's really early there, I'm kind of surprised you answered but something happened and I just–" Natasha's frantic voice resonates in the ringing of your ears. 

Worry coils in the pit of your stomach, Natasha never called this early. With the five hours difference between New Jersey and Edinburgh, if you calculate correctly, it's two am in the morning for Natasha whilst you are enjoying a cup of coffee in the early morning of seven am.

"Hey, hey. Breathe, please. What happened, did something happen?" you ask softly, your tone fighting between being calm to being frantic just like Natasha.

Natasha barks out a sudden laugh on the other line, your brows furrowed while her words become blurry all of a sudden, a chopping of sentences reaches your ears as you try to make out the cutting words of her voice. 

"I can't hear you very well. Just a minute, Nat. I'll find a good signal." Pressing your phone tightly on your ears, your other hand busies itself with finding your wallet. 

Cupping every pocket your coat has, you cursed another word. Eyes busy with looking for your wallet and feet busy with letting you out of a café which has a poor signal, your shoulders bump hard into soft ones. 

Muttering an apology, you look up to find yourself frowning at the sight of brown hair and green eyes, "Gray, are you following me?" your voice fills with annoyance. 

You look down at your phone to see that the call with Nat has ended, irritation pervades your whole being. Everything seems to be in disarray ever since you have decided to take time for yourself, your coffee was not even nearly half finished, the scratched palms you have appears to be throbbing, and now the woman who has caused you physical pain by plummeting her bike right at you stumbled upon the very café you ran off to. 

"I'm not Gray." A quiet voice murmurs, your eyes stilled right at your phone, afraid to look up to someone you are very familiar with.

Time seems to be irrelevant at this moment, as your chest heaves in heavily like a small boat being yanked deep into the ocean with an anchor so leaden and massive. You feel suffocated, a drowning mess with limbs flailing all over the wide crashing currents of water. 

Your eyes finally snap upwards, how did you not notice the different clothing?

Head whipping slightly to the side to finally look at her, "Then who are you?" you ask a question you know the answer to.

Her face morphs into a painful expression, she opens her mouth but no sound comes out as you push yourself forward, shoulder bumping painfully right at hers, your feet moving like an automatic robot, pulling you away from a situation you clearly were not ready to face. 

"Y/N, wait!" her voice staggers, and she reaches out to your fleeing tensed figure. Soft hands clutches onto your wrist, you yank it instantly. 

You turn your body to face her, "What, why are you here?" 

Her chest heaves a motion of up and down like she just ran a marathon to catch you, "You don't get to do that."

"Get to do what, Wanda?" you asked exasperatedly. 

Two years. The world gave you two years of liberty to unshackle yourself away from her tight chains and yet, it was not enough to free yourself from the cage you have put yourself into. And here she was, in her glowing glory, finally got the opportunity for her questions to be answered. 

Fate has been very cruel, cornering you to something you have not thought of. You shouldn't be projecting your anger at her, it was unfair. But, everything has been unfair to Wanda, hasn't it? So, what is the difference if you have given her one more of it?

So, you glowered at her. Gave her the face painted with hatred when deep inside the depths of your soul, it was hatred for yourself. A hatred for not moving on despite the years of being away from her and for making it so difficult that up until the unplanned reunion, you still have lingering feelings for your best friend. 

Wanda stood still, her lips trembling so slightly. She looks like a lost puppy in a world full of big dogs and that made you cower with your stance. "I just want to talk." She whispers, afraid that her tone might make you burst into something she cannot contain. 

"I did not follow you, Y/N. I swear, I– I was supposed to call your office for an appointment, scheduled it properly, and appropriately talk to you. I didn't know you were in the café." she explains further, her natural colored eyes pleading with you. 

A lump formed in your throat, you made the only move you could make, nodding. Eyes darted everywhere rather than letting them rest onto her face like how she's been doing for the past minutes. Wide green eyes gazing at you, sight focused right at you like a woman in a dream-like state.

And clasping at the last ounce of courage you have left, you muttered the words, "You want to talk?"

general masterlist ◄ ►

—୧ taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta @sokovianbaby @vivs46 @kyaraderuwez

[leemacher]

I Know You | Shadowheart x Druid!Gn!Tav!Reader

Summary: Following the Party’s encounter with the Nightsong, everyone is worried for the Party’s resident cleric. The trip to Baldur’s Gate was the quietest you had ever heard Shadowheart, and it was obvious that she was feeling down. There has to be some way to cheer her up, right?

Word Count: 1,075

Content: Act 2 spoilers, fluff, religious hurt, pre-relationship

this took me way too long, but I'm slowly trying to force myself to get past my indefinite writer's block so... this exists now 😊

“Surprise!” Your voice called out over the open field as Halsin backed away into the tree line. Shadowheart stood a few meters in front of you, her eyebrows raised and mouth hanging open slightly in shock.

Through the silence, you began to hear your heart beating sharply in your chest, its unsteady rhythm reminding you of your fears about her reaction. It had taken a few hours and way too much magic between you and Halsin, but the field of Night Orchids had grown nicely around a small blanket right in the middle.

“What is this?” She took a small hesitant step away from the flowers, finally breaking her gaze on the flowers and looking you in the eye.

A nervous laugh rippled through you. “Well, it’s a field. Of Night Orchids.”

“I can see that.” You could hear the amusement in her voice over the tightness that had been there ever since your encounter with the Night Song. “Why?”

“I, well, uhm..” You trailed off. At the time you spoke with some of your other companions about your worry for Shadowheart and her dwindling sense of identity, this had seemed like a good idea. Now though, standing in front of her with dirt stained clothes and shaky hands, you weren’t so sure. “I know you like Night Orchids. And I, sort of, maybe, like you. So here we are.”

Your hands flew up to your face, hiding it as you hoped you hadn’t come off as too weird or awkward. Maybe you should’ve just let Halsin or Karlach handle the cheering up of the resident cleric.

Before you could spiral too far into your thoughts, hand on your own brought you back into reality. Shadowheart had crossed the distance between the two of you and gently pried your hands away from your face. “You did this for me?”

You nodded with a small smile. “Yeah. Well, Halsin helped, but yeah.” You took a deep breath, enjoying the way her eyes lit up while she eyes the flowers the two of you were now surrounded by. “I just, I thought you could use some time away from your thoughts.”

Before she could respond, you took tighter hold of one of her hands and pulled her over to the blanket that sat in the middle of the field. You let go briefly and gestured for her to sit down and pulled out a bottle of wine and two glasses. “Is that wine? Actual red wine?”

You nodded, laughing. “I managed to grab some from last light before we left. Hopefully Jaheira wasn’t too mad about it.” Shadowheart smiled again. “Just promise me you won’t tell Astarion. He’d probably up and leave if he knew I had been holding onto this and didn’t offer him any.”

This time Shadowheart let out a laugh, full and bright, so unlike anything you’d seen from her as of late. You’d do anything to live in this moment forever. “I promise.”

“Good.” You giggled along with her. “And now that you’re in on the secret, would you like some?” You conjured up the warmest smile you could, holding a now full glass of wine to her.

“I suppose it would be a waste not to.” Though her words were indifferent, you could hear the happiness in her voice.

For a few moments, the two of you just sat in silence. Enjoying each other's company and the way the moonlight hits the flowers around you was enough.

Shadowheart was the one to break the silence. “I don’t know what to do.” Your head turned, giving her your full attention while she stared straight in front of her. “To find out that I, that my whole life could be a lie. That I could’ve given my life to a goddess who… And now, it’s like I don’t even know who I am anymore.”

You took a moment to take in her words. It was obvious that finding out about Shar’s misdeeds against her had taken a heavy toll, one that couldn’t be fixed by anything other than time. “I do.”

She looked at you then, unsure of your words until you began to elaborate. “I know who you are.” You plucked a flower from beside you, placing it softly behind her ear and watching as her eyelids briefly fluttered closed.

“How could you know? I barely remember my life, let alone anything before Shar took hold of me.” With a soft smile, you dropped your hand from her hair and laid it gently onto her hand.

“I know that your favorite flower is the Night Orchid, and that you can’t swim. I know that you have a fear of wolves.” Shadowheart went to speak, but you cut her off. “I know that you value your privacy, and you’d rather tell someone about what you’re feeling in your own time than be forced to talk before you’re ready. And I know that I’d wait hundreds of years for you to be ready, even if it’s something small like your favorite food. I know that you live your life in faith of those you trust, whether it be a goddess or a friend. And that faith is strong and pure and full of light, and anybody would be lucky to have that faith put in them.”

“I don’t have to know every detail of your life to know you, to see you. And neither do you.” You finally broke eye contact, shifting to lay back against the blanket, your arm spreading to the side as a silent invite. “You are kind hearted, and strong, and you will get through this. With or without a goddess by your side.”

Shadowheart sat unmoving, gazing out into the field of flowers while you laid there admiring the way she looked. Some time later, Shadowheart shifted to join you on the ground. She tucked her head against your chest and laid her arm across you.

You slid your hands up, one lightly playing with her hair and the other just holding her. The night air seemed to still, and Shadowheart’s silence no longer seemed deafening. It was as if, for the first time since Dame Aylin became a part of their roaming pack of adventurers, she was content.

“You know,” Shadowheart whispered, her voice sounding tired. “I like you too.”

You tightened your hold on her and closed your eyes, falling asleep with those words ringing through your mind.

[yoitsjay]

Ner Cabur

Pairings: Tech x male Mando! Reader

Summary: you save tech from an unfortunate end, and spending time with him had become a luxury you didn't want to let go.

Warnings: season 3 spoilers ish, cannon violence, loose episode references, Tech fluffiness

Translations:

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - I love you

Ner Cabur- my guardian

Ner kar'ta- my heart

burc’ya- friend

Word count: 2,720

The stars streaked past as you piloted your sleek, battered lambda class T-4A shuttle through the endless expanse of space. The thumping bass of your favorite rock band pulsed through the cockpit, shaking loose a few forgotten crumbs from your last meal.

With a grin, you adjusted the controls, leaning back in your worn pilot’s chair. Your black and blue painted armor gleaned dully in the cockpit lights, reflecting the occasional flicker from the starry display. The rhythmic beats matched your heartbeat as you primed your ship for landing on the nearby planet’s spaceport, for some repairs and supplies

You checked your dwindling credit’s and winced. Just then however, a flicker of static interrupted the music. A message blinked into view from your transceiver. You clicked the answer button, sliding your helmet back on as you did so, leaning back in your seat as Saw Gerrerra popped up.

“Saw.” You greeted, but the man looked like pleasantries were way off the table. “We need you on Eriadu, I'm sending you the coordinates now with your mission details. Then com me and meet me at the rondevu.” He instructed before ending the call. You huffed, quickly taking the joysticks of your ship's center console, maneuvering out of the asteroids and into free space, typing in the coordinates that were sent before jumping into hyperspace.

When you had arrived at Eriadu you followed Gerrerra’s instructions, which were basically fly around and prepare for pickup. You were flying low, hiding your ship in the canyons surrounding the empire’s main base of operations. You had scrambled your ship's signature in order to sneak by the sensors, so they had no idea you were here.

You were flying slowly, hidden by the fog but still able to see where you were flying… and that was when you saw someone falling from the rail carts. Your eyes widened, and you quickly maneuvered your ship towards the falling figure, placing your ship in “float mode” as you ran out of the cockpit and down the ramp.

You had equipped your jet pack so you just flew straight out of the ship, plummeting down towards the falling man. Before he could hit the ground, you managed to catch him in your arms, the added weight making you stumble as you ran across the ground before sliding to a stop.

“Hey man, you good?” You asked once landed, the man still held in your arms as he looked at you, eyes wide in surprise. His helmet was strange, with goggles instead of a shielded visor. Eventually you put him down, and he stared at the ground, and then back at you.

“yes i-” The man paused, nodding again. “Thank you.” He added, and you nodded. “You with Saw Gerrera?” You asked, but he shook his head. “No- i’m here with my brothers… Do you perchance have a vessel?” The man asked, and you nodded. “Yeah. First you're gonna tell me your name, then we can figure out what to do next.” You teased me. The man nodded, removing his helmet.

He was quite cute, his hair forming soft curls against his forehead, a lighter brown that accentuated his amber eyes. He was around your height, if not a few inches shorter. “My name is Tech.” He introduced, and you nodded, slowly removing your helmet as well.

Tech’s eyes widened, but you didn’t notice. You also didn’t happen to notice the slight blush on his cheeks too. “My name is Y/n. Now I'm gonna have to carry you again.” You stated, winking at Tech before placing your helmet back on your head. Tech nodded and did the same, and you picked the man back up in your arms.

He wrapped his arms around your neck as one of your arms supported his back, the other his knees and you lifted off into the air, flying back through the ramp and cargo entrance before setting Tech down again as you landed on your feet. You closed the ramp and ran up to the cockpit, seeing a beeping transmission.

You answered it. taking the controls of your ship again as Tech sat in the seat beside you. “We need pickup Y/n! Where are you?” Saw shouted, and you huffed. “On my way, I had an unexpected pickup.” You answered, soaring out of the canyon and towards the rondevu point. You kept your ship hovering, lowering the ramp as Saw and the others entered.

You flew away, breaking through the atmosphere before setting coordinates to one of the rebel planets and jumping to hyperspace. You released the controls, setting your helmet down on the top of the console as you turned to Tech. “I gotta deal with them, then I can help you.” You explained, gesturing for him to stay put before you walked out of the cockpit and to the center room before your tiny sleeping areas.

“What happened?” You asked as you saw Saw, who looked stressed. “Clones happened, The Bad Batch more specifically.” He huffed, and you raised an eyebrow as he gave you a brief explanation. “Ah okay, well they are right you know.” you stated, and he glared at you.

You raised your hands in surrender, but continued. “They’re only going to re-establish their ranks, if you want to end this empire, you gotta take out bigger ideas. Like infantry units, training centers. Communications centers and command stations.” You listed, crossing your arms over your armored chest. “Anyway, all I'm saying is that killing officers will only halt progress for a little while. Then you’ll have to do it again, and again and you’ll never stop fighting.” You finished, waving at them to rest up as you walked back into the cockpit.

Tech stared up at you as you entered, having removed his helmet again. “I heard what you said… Those were my brothers he was talking about.” Tech stated, and you hummed. “So you're a clone? you don’t look like a clone.” You stated, seeing him smile a little bit before explaining that he and his brothers were an experimental enhanced unit made during the clone wars. Their DNA was twisted, and they came out much different.

Tech had superior smarts, amongst other things, but his brain was information central according to his brothers.

“I see, well that's quite cool.” You started with a grin. “I guess that almost makes you Mandalorian.” You joked, and Tech chuckled for a moment. “Not really, however, I appreciate the sentiment.” he stated.

Soon you dropped from hyperspace, and dropped Saw and his mercenaries off at their destination. You topped up on rations and fuel, and did a bit of repairs with Tech’s help before taking off again.

“So, you have a home Tech?” You asked him, almost feeling… disappointed that he was going to be leaving so soon.

“Yes, Pabu is where i… reside with my brothers.” He answered, and you nodded, putting in the coordinates, only to feel Tech’s hand on yours, stopping you for a moment.

“I know we have only been acquainted for a few hours, but I have enjoyed conversing with you. And I would love to learn more about your culture, discover more than what is in the datapad.” He paused, pursing his lips before he looked at you again. “What I am trying to say is, you saved my life. And I would like to spend more time with you.” He breathed out, almost expecting the hard reality of no, or a disgusted look.

But instead you smiled warmly, nodding. “I would love that Tech, thank you.” You beamed, and finished setting the coordinates before entering hyperspace. “Here, you can use my transceiver to contact your brothers and let them know you're alive. Keep an eye on the controls while I go make us some food.” You stated, pointing to your transceiver before you walked away.

When you had come back you noticed Tech was still talking with his brothers, who were all talking over each other as they argued. When they saw you however, they went quiet. The one who looked and held himself as a leader spoke up.

“You saved our brother, and we are so grateful. If you weren't there we- well, he would have died. So thank you, burc’ya” The man spoke up, using a word in your native tongue which made you smile. “It was no problem, truly. Tech has been an amazing company, and a good friend in this short time.” You expressed, and the man nodded.

“That's good to hear. See you soon. And Tech? never do that again.” The man stated before the transmission ended. You chuckled, handing Tech a bowl of Tiingilar, a hearty Mandalorian dish which Tech devoured.

It was about a standard rotation’s worth of hyperspace travel before you reached the island of Pabu. Since you were across the galaxy after dropping off Gerrera. Tech told you where to land, where you already saw quite a large welcoming party.

You landed, opening the ramp as you and Tech stood up, both your helmets under your arms as you walked up together. However as Tech scanned the area, he realized that one was missing.

“Where is Omega?” He asked, and the leader, whom Tech had told you was Hunter, frowned. “We went back to Ord mantell- and Cid she- she betrayed us to the empire. They took Omega.” Hunter explained.

Tech balled his hands into fists as he stared at the ground, shoulders sagging when he felt the warmth of your hand through his armor.

“Then we find her.” You spoke up, determination lacing your voice. “I have some contacts spying within the empire, I can ask around, acting like a bounty hunter in case it gets traced. Not like it will- but still-” you rambled for a moment, before pausing.

“This Omega, she's obviously a very important foundling, yes?” You asked, and Hunter raised his eyebrow foundling?” He asked, and you huffed, readying to explain.

“Yes, a young being abandoned by its parents, raised by others.” You explained simply. Hunter nodded. “yeah… she’s our sister.” Hunter stated, and you nodded. “There! even more of a reason we should find her yea?” You asked, nodding to yourself. “I'll get on it then, is there somewhere more secure to have my ship in the meantime?” You asked, and Tech rubbed his chin.

“Yes, there is a cave entrance where you can park.” He stated, and Hunter gawked. “What? when did that exist?” Wrecker spoke up with a shout. Tech sighed. “I thought it was obvious.” He started, looking over at you with a smile. “Thank you, for helping us.” He stated, grasping your hand in his own.

You nodded. “Of course Tech, it’s the right thing to do.” You stated, nodding to him once more before you released his hand and entered the ship, taking off to park your ship in a more secluded location.

There you scrambled your signature again before reaching out to your imperial contacts. There really wasn’t much in the way of where Omega could have been taken, or why. But there was talk of something called M-count, and a name. Tantiss.

So for weeks you worked alongside Tech and his brothers, hunting, searching and gaining intel, almost getting killed quite a few times, especially by living vines. Now that was exhilarating.

But almost all intel you and The Bad Batch had gathered had been of no use, there was nothing about Tantiss, barely anything about Hemlock either, the man who took omega in the first place. You could tell the brothers were starting to give up hope, traveling back through hyperspace when the comm’s suddenly went off.

It was Omega, and she had sent coordinates to meet her on one of the moons of Ryloth. It could’ve been a trap, but with you and Tech there, the chances of living were a lot better.

So you went, and watched as Omega embraced Tech and Wrecker, so relieved that Tech was alright. Hunter walked up to you, and you nodded to him, placing a hand on his shoulder as a form of comfort, watching as he walked down before running to meet omega, hugging her tightly.

The reunion was heartfelt, but you could feel tensions rising when a second person stepped out from the imperial ship, a taller man, bald with piercing eyes. Omega argued that he had changed, that he had been betrayed by the empire, But Tech, Hunter and Wrecker were still very much on edge.

You walked down the ramp, ready to aid them if need be.

You stood behind Tech, looming behind him as you turned to look at Crosshair. Your helmet was on, but despite that it looked as if his eyes met yours. You saw the hurt, the guilt and regret in his eyes, and you removed your hand from where it was resting on your blaster.

“We need to leave, before the Empire shows up.” You stated, and walked back to the Marauder with Tech on your heels as his hand once again found yours. Hand holding has become a form of comfort between you and Tech these past weeks. And you found yourself feeling more for him than just friendship.

But now wasn’t the right time, and you both knew that.

But soon, Omega and Crosshair were back on Pabu, and the whole bad batch was reunited it seemed, as Echo was waiting on Pabu for them, for Crosshair’s information more specifically.

While they talked, you felt a tug on your poncho, which you had started wearing more recently after finding it in a Pabu stall.

You looked down, noticing the young girl, Omega, smiling at you. “So are you Tech’s boyfriend?” She asked, and you let out a choked sound, glancing over at Tech who seemed to have the same reaction.

You knelt down, removing your helmet as you stared at her. “No young one… but would I have your blessing if I wanted him to be?” You asked quietly, and she squealed in excitement. “Yes! of course!” Sh exclaimed, and you chuckled, looking over at Tech with a smile before standing up again.

So much more had happened after this, Omega was taken again, and everyone was devastated, including you, since you had grown to care for the young girl during the calm before the storm.

After Omega was taken, you had been relieved to have hidden your ship elsewhere, since the Marauder had been destroyed. You had to move some stuff around, but you had made the addition of four other people work, especially since you and Tech started sharing a room.

Getting Omega back was the only thing on all of your minds, but that didn’t stop the light touches, the hand holding. You didn’t complain when Tech would slip into your quarters after enjoying a meal with his brothers, and he would relax into your embrace before falling asleep.

Echo had joined up in your efforts when you had actually located Tantiss. You had left your ship at one of the clone rebels' bases, and piloted an imperial ship instead, in order to sneak into Tantiss. Omega was smart enough to break herself out, but during that time you and the other batchers, including Tech, had gotten separated.

You were with Echo and a new addition, Emerie, when you hid against a wall as clones and troopers walked by, and your eyes widened when you saw Crosshair, Wrecker and Tech’s unconscious bodies being carried away.

After that you fought like hell until everyone was safe. Even Hunter couldn’t deny that you were a ruthless warrior, even before you snapped you were incredible.

But Tantiss was destroyed at the end, The Bad Batch reunited, and you had decided to settle down on Pabu, your’s and Tech’s growing relationship finally able to blossom. You had taught the younger clones on the island all about Mandalorian traditions, and it felt like you had started your own clan on Pabu. Clan 99 you had joked.

But in reality these men had become your family. And Tech would stand beside you through it all.

“Ner cabur.” Tech whispered into your chest as you laid with him, you smiled, kissing the top of his head.

“Ner kar’ta, Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum”

➺

Tag list:

Tech tag:

Tbb:

@moomoog017 @only-my-unexistent-fiances

[apricotg0rl]

Wedding dresses and funerals 🕰️🪦📜

Tommy x reader

Genre: angst?

Word count: 540

Warnings: guns mentioned and blood as-well as a considerable age gap -forced marriage

(If there was a warning or something triggering I forgot to mention please message me so I can correct my mistake)

Side note: my small oneshot was inspired by this painting ‘signing the register’ 1920 by Edmond Blair Leighton as I feel it’s fitting once again towards the atmosphere of Tommys character and taking into the account of Mr Gold’s daughter and how arranged marriages have been a major topic of history and marriage was more a business arrangement than something to do with love.

So yeah if I got anything wrong tell me because I normally tend to not reread my writing out of embarrassment hence why the multiple incorrect grammar in the last post.

“And as I write this I scramble to find a drop of sincerity in this marriage and hope that I will find love within its contract that bind us together but deep within I mourn. Mourn for my innocence, mourn for the young girl who was promised jewels made from cut stone but here I stand with a ring stained with blood and the lives he took just to slip it on my raw fingers. “

After pondering at the scraps of paper Y/N carved into she looked around to see the presence of the monotonous man she was wedded off to.

“Will I just be another trophy for you to show off?” She asks with distain in her voice while dropping her head to the floor as she drowns in shame. “Or will I have a somewhat value to you other than being paraded around?” She knew her youth was a beneficial gain for him but the taboo circumstances circulating it left it to be unsaid leaving a lingering tension between the two and the spectators that had witnessed the ceremony. It was obvious that very little of his family agreed with the sickening idea as spiteful whispers lurked the halls of the house while she stayed locked up in her room suffocating in a ridiculous wedding dress.

“Can you just behave and come downstairs” tommy demanded while staring down the gaunt girl drowning in the white fabric that had her desperate for air as it clung tightly onto her skin.

“How can I possibly behave when I’ve been married off to a monster?!” She spat at him whilst attempting to soak up her translucent tears. Once her words reached his ears he wrinkled his nose in disgust “monster?!” He remarked at her tensed up expression and he took a glance at her following with an intense gaze at her heaving chest which resulted with a sharp pang of guilt.

“I am not to blame..it was your father who proposed the idea” he replied shaking his head in disbelief at the girls outlandish behaviour yet still acting like a child himself playing the silly game of who did it first.

Y/N’s jaw went slack at the idea of the very man who promised her own safety since her first breath selling her off to the next man who could “tame” her.

“I tried to take the responsibility but I can’t have my wife hating my very own existence and cursing the day I was born”

Y/N retched at his use of words and stood from her chair in pure disbelief that was now intertwined with venom. The assertive man stood within her eyeline and palmed the gun from his pocket and slammed it on the table infront of her looking for something other than contempt in her eyes. “If you want to take out your anger he’s downstairs with the rest of the family” he exclaimed, almost tempting her like the snake from the genesis story that had fooled Eve, as the choice of life and death rattled around her mind like a marble in a wheel.

“But if you decide to become vengeful you can no longer live on that pedestal that you look down on me from when blood is spilt on your hands” he spat as he roughly grabbed onto her shoulders trying to shake the insanity out of her that dwindled like a flickering candle flame.

“Is that what it takes to become a Shelby?”

[summaryscar]

Ask game: Hero of Warriors?!?!!?! 👀

🤗

🍿

Oh, dang, this was from forever ago I didn’t think I’d see an ask for this game ever again. However, this was one that I wasn’t asked about that I really wanted to talk about, so thank you for asking about it!

I’ll talk about it for a bit first, then share a snippet of what I’ve got done, if that’s alright with you.

So, this is a fic I haven’t worked on in months because I kinda got distracted with other ones and haven’t yet had the time to go back to it. For those who have heard of Epic: The Musical (which I’ve come to realize is a lot of people in the LU fandom), the fic is based off of the songs Survive and Remember Them. I haven’t quite gotten to the part where these two songs actually come into play, but I’m extremely close to getting started on where Survive will happen, if that makes sense.

Besides the fact that I got distracted, another reason as to why the fic has been untouched for so long is because I’m unsure as to how much of the song lyrics and such to include in the fic. There are certain lines I know for certain that I will be including, because how could I not?, but I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to have the dialogue be the lyrics word for word, or if it’s better to skip over certain things.

This fic has also somehow managed to branch off into ideas for other fics titled similarly and revolving around the same idea for each Lu character. These ones are still completely unwritten, and I’m not planning on starting them until I get the one for Wars done.

(Okay, that’s a lie. I have, like, a sentence for two written for Legend and one of the others that I can’t remember which one it is, nor do I want to search all my docs at the moment)

Now for the snippet I promised:

“Well, I suppose we can lend a hand or two, what do you guys say?” Warriors turned around, addressing the rest of the Chain who had managed to cut down the surrounding monsters enough for them all to talk.

Wild’s immediate reaction was to run off and charge some nearby Bokoblins that had gotten too close to some of the soldiers. He was soon followed by Wind and Four, the two of them yelling some sort of battle cry as they slashed through any enemy that crossed their path. The rest of them were quick to join the battle, assisting soldiers who appeared to be in need of reinforcements.

After some time, the monster forces seemed to be dwindling, and while it took longer to kill these ones off, — Legend learned the hard way that they had infected blood — they were making more progress than the troops had been making without the Heroes of Courage.

“I think we’ve almost got them all,” said Twilight from across the battlefield. It was hard to hear him properly due to the sound of clashing shields and weapons, but the Rancher was loud enough that it sparked some hope in everyone present, giving them all the more reason to continue fighting until they no longer could.

“Well, that’s good,” breathed Hyrule from somewhere off to the side, treating Legend’s injured arm while still keeping an eye out for any threats coming their way.

Warriors looked around, scanning the area for the rest of his fellow heroes. He caught a glimpse of Wild running through a crowd of ChuChus, slicing them apart with ease, before he lost sight of the Champion. Sky wasn’t too far away from him, using the Master Sword to fight some Moblins from Wild’s world. He didn’t have time to worry about the fact that they were not only battling black-blooded enemies, but also ones from Wild’s era, some of the strongest they’d ever encountered even when not infected. From behind him, he heard Wind’s battle cries once more and came across the sight of his little brother caught in combat with an Aeralfos, the winged creature swooping down on him. That, however, didn’t appear to be a problem for the Sailor seeing how he just jumped out of the way before stabbing it with his sword

That brought the total up to six, seven counting himself. Only two others were left.

I (surprisingly) have a lot more than this written, it just might take a while to get out, but I promise it’ll come eventually

[oftenwantedafton]

Moody and Gray - William Afton x Female Reader

Chapter 8

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - sexual content

Also available on AO3

The day that had seemed so endless earlier this morning is passing by far too quickly.

You’re seated on the couch, your bent knees tenting over William’s thighs. One hand is curled possessively around the calf furthest from him. A single lamp illuminates the room, the light outside filtering through the balcony sliders extinguished now that it’s early evening.

“What are you feeling for dinner?”

“Hmmm…Chinese? And a beer run.”

“Deal.” He squeezes your leg and you reluctantly swing your legs around and stand up, walking to the closet to retrieve your coats. You almost think you won’t make it out the door when he crowds you against it and begins kissing you. “Just a little fix before we’re out in public and we have to behave,” he murmurs beside your neck.

“That addicted, huh?”

“Mmm-hmm.” His tongue darts over your earlobe and his teeth tug lightly.

You groan. “We don’t have to behave that much in public, do we?”

“A reasonable attempt should at least be made.”

“Does this count as reasonable?” Your hand slides over the waistband of his jeans.

“Most definitely not. Fuck, Moody. We need to leave before this gets out of hand.”

You huff but relent, locking the door behind you and following him to the parking lot.

It happens again in your boss’ car. He leans over and you thread your fingers through his hair. Perhaps he’s feeling some of that same urgency. The dwindling hours of your allotted time together.

The closest Chinese restaurant is a run down looking dive in a shopping plaza with a laundromat and a grocery store. You let Afton order, more preoccupied with admiring the way his profile looks in the restaurant that’s dimly lit with red paper lanterns. He pulls out a chair for you to sit on and settles across the tiny table from you. His fingers tease your knee. You push your own through his, linking them together out of sight. His eyes lock with yours. The conversation of the other patrons and the staff fades to white noise.

You miss your order number, forcing the man behind the register to repeat it several times before it clicks that you’re being summoned. Your employer tucks the paper bag under one arm and reaches for your hand again with his unoccupied one. A quick stop to deposit your dinner in the car, then you walk with your hands linked together to the grocery store.

It’s dangerous, but he’d said he’d liked the thrill of being caught, hadn’t he, that first day when he’d kissed your behind his pizzeria. He wasn’t even remotely attempting to behave. He was positively flaunting his affection, and you’re helpless to stop him. You want people to see. You want people to think you’re a couple. That he’s yours and you belong to him.

“William Afton? It is you. My daughter goes to school with Evan.”

Just like that, his fingers abandon yours, the illusion shattered. You suddenly find yourself staring at the labels of the beer bottles and cans with rapt fascination while your lover makes small talk with the other woman.

“We’re having a birthday party at your restaurant in a couple of weeks. Will Evan be there?”

“Uh, you’ll have to ask my wife, she’s really more in charge of that sort of thing, but I’m sure…”

You can feel the woman’s eyes flick to you more than once. Curious as to why you’re standing so closely beside him, so obviously shopping with him, and not just another patron perusing the liquor selection. You pointedly ignore her, wishing she would just leave. You’re halfway tempted to just drag William out of the store.

“Be sure to tell everyone I said hi. We’ll be seeing you soon.”

A polite smile that doesn’t touch the tall man’s eyes vanishes as the woman moves to continue her shopping in another aisle.

You can feel his eyes on you now. “I’m okay,” you mumble. “I don’t think she saw anything. That big stupid coat of yours blocks everything.” You’re trying to make light of the situation and failing miserably. Maybe you should have just stayed home and ordered takeout and skipped the booze. Just eliminated dinner entirely and continued what you’d started against your front door. Hindsight 20/20 and all that.

And this is what comes of letting yourself have feelings for a married man, you reprimand yourself. Fuck him all you want, sure. Getting emotional about him? Big fucking mistake. You knew better. You knew it, and yet you’d let it happen anyway.

The space between you as you walk back to the car feels much wider than it physically is. An uncomfortable shift in mood. The happy little bubble you’d been in all day popped just like that. You shouldn’t have been so brazen. You should’ve picked a convenience store, somewhere with less people, it was a weekend, he was well known, of course someone would see. Would’ve, could’ve, should’ve. You silently berate yourself.

“Moody.” He’s made no move to turn the key in the ignition.

“I’m okay, Will, honestly. Let’s go home before the food gets cold, okay? I just want to get tipsy and forget this happened.”

“We should talk about—”

“—I don’t want to. Not tonight. Please. Just let me have these last few hours be only for us, okay?” You’re not going to cry. You absolutely flat out refuse to give some soccer mom the satisfaction.

William sighs heavily, nodding.

***

Back in your apartment, your employer is arguing with you about your choice of utensil to consume the take away with.

“You have to at least try to use chopsticks.”

“I have. I end up dropping most of the food. I’ll still be trying to eat come summer if I attempt that.”

“You just need to practice.”

“I don’t see what possible difference it could make.”

“It’s part of the cultural experience.”

“American Chinese food isn’t really like legit Chinese food.”

“Okay, I’ll concede that. But it’s like drinking wine out of a tumbler. You just don’t do it.”

“Why not? I have.” You smirk at the pained expression on his features. “Okay, fine, Gray. Show me how to use your silly chopsticks. I’ll make an honest effort. Once. And then I’m going back to a fork.”

He hands you one of the paper wrapped sets he’d taken from the restaurant. You shred the wrapper and snap the sticks apart. “Okay, now what?”

“Hold this one like this. Here.” He adjusts your fingers so the slender bit of wood rests on the inside of your ring finger, your middle finger seated on the top, thumb bracing against it. “Now this one.” This he aligns between your index finger and thumb. “The ends should be even. You’re essentially using this as an extension of your finger to control the grip and this bottom one as the wedge that holds it steady.”

“This is unnecessarily complicated.”

“Just try it. Only moving the top. Bottom stays locked in place.”

It’s clumsy and awkward but you already notice an improvement from when you’d previously attempted to use them without any guidance. “Yeah, okay, I feel the difference,” you admit grudgingly. “But I still prefer to use a fork.” He deftly picks up a piece of chicken and offers it to you. “Show off.” You accept the gift and take a swig of beer to wash it down. At least he wasn’t fussy about putting the booze in glasses.

You’re feeling a little better by the time you finish dinner, the unpleasantness of your run in with the woman that knew William fading a bit. Or maybe that was just the beer numbing you. Either way. You sink beside the older man on the couch and hand him the remote, handing him a fresh drink before sipping from your own bottle. He channel flips before settling on a sitcom.

“Where do you want to go on Wednesday?” He inquires between laugh tracks.

That’s right. He had promised to take you out to dinner.

“Somewhere out of town where there’s less chance of running into someone you know,” you grumble.

“Moody.”

“Relax, I’m kidding. I honestly have no preference. Surprise me. Well, just let me know the dress code first.” You take another long swallow. “What time is curfew tonight?” Trying to make light of the situation again. Knowing it’s painfully obvious that you’re both thinking the same thing. You’re running out of time.

“I should leave around nine.”

Ouch. “Two more hours. Got it.”

He shuts the television off and pulls the half full bottle out of your hands, setting his own empty one on the coffee table. His hand settles on your thigh and he leans towards you. “Come to bed with me, Moody,” he says beside your ear. “I still owe you another one.”

“Another…oh.” He was still counting. Current standing, tied even. One more to break the record. His lips ghost along your jaw before he stands, pulling you to your feet. You’re feeling quite inebriated, an intensely pleasant buzz that’s perhaps not entirely all courtesy of the alcohol. He sweeps you up in his arms and you squeak as he carries you bridal style into the bedroom, your wrists locked behind his neck.

Fingers fumble for clothing fasteners once you reach your destination. A zipper here, a button there. Shoelaces. Hook and eye closures. You can’t seem to divest each other of your garments fast enough. Slightly clumsy. Something that sounds suspiciously like a giggle actually escapes him at one point. Okay, you’re both intoxicated. And more than a little drunk off each other’s presence. His nude body presses warmly against yours once you’re lying in bed and it’s a bit sobering.

“Moody.” His normally sharp eyes are glassy. Speech a little less proper, slightly slurred. Maybe not the best idea to be drinking before he had to drive home. What if he just had to stay the night, for safety’s sake? Wouldn’t that just be terrible? “My moody girl…”

You shove at him until he’s lying supine and straddle his hips, bending to kiss him. “Want you to be mine, Will.” Your kisses are wet, sloppy.

“I am yours.” He grins at you with those sharp vampiric teeth you’re so fond of. Your fingers knot in his hair and you push him back against the pillow, laving at his throat. You’re still hovering above him, your lower body still shy of making contact. “In every way that matters I’m yours,” he adds more solemnly.

You draw back to study his features. “Every way?” You nip at his bottom lip. “Your body’s mine?” You reach down between you to find his hard cock, dragging the flushed tip across your lips and stroking it against your clit.

“Fuck, yes. All yours. Only yours.”

“What else is mine, Mr. Afton?” You bring him back to your dripping entrance. Still a tight squeeze when you sheath yourself even though he’s been fucking you with his mouth and fingers and that big cock all day. “Tell me.” Your fingers around his throat, lightly squeezing, eliciting a moaning gasp that echoes through your core. You begin to rock up and down. Your nails drag down his chest. “Tell me, tell me, tell me.” In harmony with your pelvic movements.

“My heart.”

Your head drops down to his. “Is your heart really mine?”

His hand cups your cheek. “Yes.”

“I tried not to fall for you, Will. I really did. But I couldn’t help it…” His hips lift to meet you. “I fell so hard, so fast…” Drunk words, sober thoughts. The confession spills out of you. You can’t pretend any longer. He needs to know.

William’s hands grip your waist and he rolls you beneath him, his cock burying itself to the hilt.

“I know, Moody. I know. It happened to me too. Caught me off guard…Why does your body feel so good? So perfect for me, sweet girl…” Your knees grip his ribs and you rock against him. “Oh, God, Moody. What you do to me. What you make me feel. I’ve never…”

Every plunge into your depths brings his mouth closer to yours. “Will…I’m…” You’re on the brink of shattering and you can’t even get the words out. He’s stolen your breath, each bid for air a harsh gasp. You’re lightheaded, the man buried inside you the last anchor to reality.

“Yes, Moody, yes…”

A sob of relief when your body finally succumbs around him. Wringing his cock. Your fingers laced tightly with his. His mouth covering yours, his body echoing your trembling. Pulled against his frame when he shifts positions, gathering you to him in the now quiet dark

[someplace-darker]

Kinktober Day 3: Glove Kink | Din Djarin

Pairing: Din Djarin x reader (no y/n)

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: 18+, PWP, public sex, fingering, glove kink, is finger sucking a warning? it is now, reader is afab but no pronouns are used

Summary: Maybe you should be a little bit more subtle about how much you want Din.

A/N: hi this is the late day 3! I thought i was gonna do 3 and 4 tonight but stuff came up so 4 and 5 should be out tomorrow! Also i think this is the first Din thing i've ever written.

Din knows that your eyes linger on him when he works, whether it’s catching bounties or cleaning his blasters, your gaze tracks him with blatant yearning. He was glad that even if his helmet restricted many things in life, at least his emotions were concealed beneath the impenetrable beskar and cold vocoder. It’s not any different this time. You’re sitting in the back of some outer-rim cantina sitting across from Din as he surveys the room, eyes glued to the way the yellow lights reflect and bounce on every surface of his armor. 

Of course Din doesn’t tell you that he can see you, that his head may be turned but he’s noting each clench of your thighs, each pass of your tongue over your lips. It’s amusing to say the least, he finds it almost pathetic how you can’t seem to keep ahold of yourself in his presence. Although you’ve run out of things around you to look at and busy yourself with. You’re skilled in combat and handy with a weapon when needed, but Din does the rest, such as waiting in shadows and silence for the right moment to pounce on a target. 

Which is exactly why you’re in the rundown cantina in the first place. A tip had come in from a reliable source that the man whose puck you currently carried in your pocket frequented this place in particular. Obviously not that reliable, seeing as the two of you have been sitting here for hours without a sign of him. The light from the dual suns is dwindling, the orange glow from outside the windows turning to purples and blues. The room is starting to empty itself, everyone collectively deciding to turn in for the night and laying down their credits for the bartender before seeing themselves out.

Except for you and the Mandalorian.

“Are we leaving yet?” you question, acutely aware of how you sound like a petulant child. In reality, you’re just massively turned on and need the (semi)privacy of the razor crest. 

“No. This place doesn’t close for another hour, he could still show up,” Din replies, voice hoarse and dipped in molten heat. The same heat that occupies your body as you listen to him speak. You’re not exactly sure when it became this bad, turned into biting your hand as you fucked yourself in his bunk, watching a little closer at how his back twitches under your touch while you stitch a blade wound. 

Focusing on how his hands toss assailants around like it’s nothing.

“Okay, can I at least head back to the ship? We’ll meet there,” you try to negotiate as he tilts his head in your direction, something like a sigh leaving him. His fingers tap on the table between you, gloves flexing around his hand as it moves. 

He doesn’t answer immediately this time, his fingers stopping the rhythmic movement to instead clench into a fist, your stare still locked on his hands. Hands that you’ve thought about so many times before. Din clearing his throat snaps you out of your trance, looking up to see him leaning back against the booth, legs spread wide. 

“Tell me mesh’la,” you’re not exactly sure how, but his voice is lower now “how often do you think about my fingers wrapping around your throat?” 

Shock riddles your brain following his bluntly delivered question, the rest of your body shivering at his tone and how it drips with hunger. You glance out of the darkened corner booth you're seated in, the only people remaining are the bartender and passed out straggler on the other side. Slowly, you turn back to him. His visor reveals nothing and you wonder for a second if you imagined him saying it. Still, you lick your lips and murmur a soft “what?”

Din regards you as you squirm in your seat, turning to jerk his head to the left and pat the spot next to him. It feels as if you’re moving through the thickest water in the galaxy when you start to shift and push yourself around to his side, not looking away from him even when your knee bumps into his as you settle. The cool leather of his glove brushes against your cheek, curving down to cradle the line of your jaw. “I want you to tell me how much you think about me when you’re two fingers deep into your own cunt,” he speaks again, this time slower. 

He watches the realization dawn over your pretty face, gloved thumb pressing gently against the plush cushions of your lips. “You can hear me?” you whisper, clenching your thighs once more, except this time he’s close enough to feel it. “Usually you think I’m sleeping,” he confirms, watching your spit coat the tip of his thumb when your mouth parts just the slightest.

How long has he known?

Lifting his arm, Din moves it to rest on the back of the booth, turning his body to keep his other hand on your face. Your tongue darts out to brush against the tip of his glove, moaning quietly when he allows you to lower your head and suck on the digit. “Do you want me to make you feel good, honey?” Din sounds like he’s teetering on the edge of restraint, voice more strained than before. 

You shouldn’t, you know there’s still people in the building, but all your brain can focus on is the ragged rise and fall of the mandalorian’s chest. 

And fuck, you really are tired of not knowing what it’s like. 

Pulling your head back and off his finger, you nod frantically “yes, Din, please.” Almost instantly he’s pushing his index and middle fingers past your lips once more, grunting when you circle them with your tongue. Once they’re covered in your spit he pulls them out with a soft pop, dragging them down your cloth covered torso before pushing past the waistband of your trousers and curling them into you. The back of your head blooms with a sharp pain when you throw it back against his beskar covered arm, pleasure quickly covering the pain when he pumps them once, then twice. 

Fuck, he didn’t even bother taking the gloves off, yet somehow it makes it better. The mere acknowledgment that he’s finger fucking you with his gloves still on is enough to make your cunt flutter around him. “Come on, I know you’re close. You practically rode the booth for the last few hours,” his voice is strained, a lilting tease playing at the tip of his tongue and it makes you laugh breathily. The laugh quickly morphs into a whine, brows furrowing as you turn your face against his arm, condensation forming on the cold metal. 

He curls his fingers inside you repeatedly, adjusting his wrist so his thumb can find your clit and press circles into it. “Feels so good, wanted you for so long, fuck Din,” he hushes you gently, still aware of your location and missing bartender. Hips pressing down into his hand you start a rhythm, rocking into his hand like you’ve been hit with the strongest aphrodisiac in the galaxy. 

Din’s silent now, entirely honed in on you now, watching as your back arches and you come with a shuddering cry. He presses the head of his helmet to your temple, slowing the movement of his fingers until you stop shaking. “Good, cyare,” he pulls his hand from your bottoms and taps your cheek, cock throbbing in his pants when your jaw relaxes and allows his fingers in. You pull back and grin, eyes hooded and pupils blown.

“That was much better than anything I thought of,” you say, voice wavering.

Din is about to answer but stops when the hiss of a door sounds out. “What’s wrong?” you whisper, head clearing enough to reach down for your blaster.

“I think we have company.”