#my writing brain goes WELL HERE'S WHY

[safyresky]

For all of the Santa Clauses flaws, one thing stuck out while watching it, and that's that the Santa coat literally dragged itself away from Simon, but in TSC3? It did nothing when Jack put it on. Like....Jack Frost was right all along? Also, we're gonna just ignore how other Legendary Figures cannot affect one another with magic (per Cupid in TSC2), but Jack can still become Santa despite being a Legendary Figure himself? Like...I have so many questions about these movies.

Well Anon, the GOOD NEWS is I have HEADCANONS for you instead of the obvious "the series did not pay attention to the movie continuity at all and that's why the discrepancies" (tho that is my first and foremost reason!)

1. The coat let Jack take it bc Scott needed to learn a lesson (he needed to remember where he came from and how much good it did him and remember that he loves the job and his family, and the coat went okay. We gonna do this the HARD WAY, huh? SADDLE UP FROST LET'S BOOGIE)

2. Jack becoming Santa wasn't done by another legendary figure's magic, it was because of the clause which, though magical, is more of an agreement/arrangement than one Legendary Figure using their magic on ANOTHER Legendary Figure.

Like I take that to mean that Mother Nature can't unfreeze Jack, and also Jack can't freeze the other council members. Cupid's arrows won't work on Legendary Figures, Santa can't actually see what the Council Members are doing (a la the SEES U WHEN UR SLEEPIN KNOWS WHEN UR AWAKE thing) you know, THAT sort of thing. And that's why Jack was able to use the Clause to become Santa! Semantics! :)

[theambivalentagender]

Fellow writers/comic artists/people involved in the writing thing in some way:

Do you ever get this problem where you watch a bunch of media produced and set in another country, and then when you go to write all the dialogue starts coming into your head filtered in the accent(s) and manners of speech of that country that are distinctly different from where you've set your work?

I've watched all of Good Omens twice in the past week and now as I'm trying to plan out the next Valley Echoes comic everyone's suddenly got strong British/Scottish accents.

[aheathen-conceivably]

God they better be living their best life in the 30s as they are in the modern au or else I will cry Alexis I'm very emotionally invested in these pixels - LGL

Oof, LGL, baby…

I, um, cannot make that promise. Mostly because the AU is sims-world gameplay vs. a sim-ified version of the real world that serves as the framework for a story, if that makes sense? So the goal of the legacy is never going to be this sort of best life experience, but to tell a somewhat realistic story in the confines of the medium (that being the sims and Tumblr).

In other words, think of the AU as vacation mode. Everything is all good in vacation mode, your worries and reality kind of cease to exist for a little while. That being said, ahem, I may have added some drama to vacation mode because I am who I am babes I cannot be tamed I cannot be stopped.

And have no fear, if you’re emotionally invested in vacation mode/our AU pixels, we’ve got quite a bit of time with them until we go back to the real world 😉

[windfighter]

Comfy clothes

Prompt: Clothing that doesn't fit

-----

Kouji woke up first. He always did. He stayed in his sleeping bag for a while, listened to the others. Tomoki was mumbling in his sleep, Kouichi was snoring lightly. Izumi turned around in her bag, hugged her pillow and kept sleeping. Kouji stretched. He sat up and yawned. Sunlight was starting to creep through the window. It would be a beautiful day and they’d probably go to the park when everyone had woken up. Which would take a few more hours, Kouichi always slept late when he didn’t have school.

Kouji reached for his clothes. He got someone elses, because apparently everyone had dumped their clothes in the same spot. Kouji grumbled a bit. His nightvision wasn’t good enough for him to search through the pile for his own, and he didn’t feel like turning on a light since it could wake up the others. He sighed.

Whatever. I’ll just roll with it.

He pulled them on, hoping it was Kouichi’s. Someone would get them confused if it was and it would be hilarious.

The clothes were big on him. Soft, but big. Very warm. Kouji pulled his hands into the sleeves and smiled. Junpei’s. Junpei was still sleeping soundly in his sleeping bag.

Kouji was starting to feel restless. He stood up, stretched again and snuck out from Takuya’s room. Takuya moved in the bed when Kouji opened the door, but didn’t wake up. Kouji went to the living room, sat down in the couch. The rest of Takuya’s family was still asleep.

There was a deck of cards on the couch table, left behind from the evening. Kouji briefly wondered how long the others had stayed up after he went to bed. He grabbed the deck, shuffled it and played solitaire.

The room got brighter as the sun rose. Tomoki woke up, greeted Kouji without looking at him and sat down to play a game on Takuya’s console. Shinya arrived next and didn’t even notice Kouji because there was a game he could join in on. Takuya ruffled Kouji’s hair before he disappeared to the kitchen to find breakfast. Kouji’s stomach growled, but he ignored it, prefered to wait until Kouichi woke up as well.

Izumi stopped when she noticed him. Tilted her head. At first he thought she was wondering why he had Junpei’s clothes, but there was too much worry in her eyes. Kouji frowned.

”What?” he asked.

”Are you… okay?” she asked. ”I didn’t notice it yesterday but…”

She gestured towards him. Tomoki turned around and Kouji felt blood rush to his cheeks.

”You’ve lost weight”, Izumi finished.

Kouji rolled his eyes.

”I’m fine.”

”You know you can always talk to us, right?”

Kouji buried his face in his hands and shook his head. He was so close to laughter.

”Nothing’s wrong”, he said. ”I promise.”

”Okay…”

Izumi was clearly not convinced. Kouji wasn’t sure what to say to convince her.

”Hey, did anyone see my clothes?” Junpei asked as he came out of the bedroom.

He stopped when he noticed Kouji. Kouji’s cheeks were burning. Junpei’s cheeks got redder as well. Kouji pulled his hands into the sleeves again and buried himself in the sweater.

”Nevermind”, Junpei said. ”Found them.”

”I couldn’t find my own”, Kouji defended himself with. ”You want them back?”

Junpei scratched the back of his neck.

”I’m gonna need them if we’re heading outside later but uh… You can have them until then.”

Izumi glanced between them. Junpei looked away and Kouji pulled the sweater over his mouth to hide his smile.

”They’re comfy”, Kouji said. ”I can see why you like them so much.”

Izumi smiled. Kouji didn’t like that one bit. Junpei also smiled and Kouji liked that a lot more. Junpei sat down next to him in the couch and grabbed the deck of cards.

”I can show you were I got them later?”

Kouji shook his head. Junpei started shuffling the cards.

”No need to get my own, I’ll just borrow yours”, Kouji said with a laugh.

”Fair enough”, Junpei answered.

Izumi snuck away. Kouji could hear her whisper excitedly with Takuya and he feared for his and Junpei’s future.

”Up for a game of Canasta until Sleeping Beauty wakes up?”

Kouji laughed and nodded.

”Sounds fun. Betcha I’ll win.”

”Against the Card Master himself?” Junpei said and winked. ”We’ll see about that.”

[rainbowconvection]

.

[birdofmay]

And again, as always: It would be nice if you guys could stop making this about yourselves. Whenever we post about our particular experience, people who normally can speak, but used to struggle with it, or struggle under certain circumstances, add on something to talk about themselves. This eventually leads to people talking about something completely different, and ignoring what the post was about at first. Make your own post. We are constantly spoken over even in online spaces, and that's especially unfair because we struggle to communicate even more than other autistics. Don't derail posts about people who never learned to speak from the very beginning and won't learn it ever. That's unfair.

Sometimes I see people on here who want to be good allies to nonverbal autistics, but at the same time don't understand nonverbal autism at its core.

Most of us, who are nonverbal "from birth", struggle with language, to communicate, and to understand complex concepts. That's why we never learned to speak at all, ever.

But their strategy is to "hand us the mic" and ask "What are some misconceptions about nonverbal autism you'd like to discuss?" and expect us to respond.

"Misconceptions" is an abstract concept. Most of us can't just come up with an answer; my mind, for example, goes completely blank when I read this.

I wanted to talk about allies assuming that our brain works similar for at least 2 weeks, but it's only now that I am able to write something. 2 weeks!

Sure, there are autistics who can't speak due to apraxia, and who don't struggle with language otherwise, apart from the "not being able to speak with their mouth" part. But that's rare.

Even my ability to express myself well is rare. I am not your average nonverbal autistic. I am very skilled compared to the rest of us.

One thing about "never learning to speak" is that most of us really really struggle with language, and with understanding big words and topics. Not everyone, but many of us. That's why most of us aren't on social media.

Whenever I write "educational" posts, my inbox is flooded with follow up questions I just can't answer without help. Because most of the time I don't understand the text. I regularly have to close my inbox because people assume that I can process the text and respond like everyone else can. But having these abilities is an exception within autistics who never learned to speak from the very beginning. It seems normal, but those people just are the loudest. Because they're on social media and love to participate in discussions.

Most of us can't do that.

I'm glad that I made some speaking friends here who made an effort to understand us thoroughly, and they now often repeat what we think and want "but louder". Listen to them, most of us can't advocate for ourselves. They're not speaking over us, they're helping us to communicate without draining our energy.

And for everything else I have some posts linked in my pinned post because I can't just participate in discussions.

[halsteadlover]

𝐀 𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐢𝐧

*Pics not mine credits to the owner*

• Pairing: Derek Morgan x Female!Reader.

• Requested by anon: Could you please write a derek Morgan x reader smut where the reader and derek and the team obvi are on a case and while interviewing neighbors in the apartments the reader makes a stupid bet like "I bet whoever lives here is a hot single bachelor in his 20s" and then it's the opposite and when they are back in the car derek makes the reader pay up but with her panties and when she goes to get them back at the end of the day it leads to smut.

• Warnings: a really brief mention of a murder case (it’s just a sentence), dirty talk, cuss words, making out, semi-public foreplay (f. receiving), unprotected sex (wrap it up you guyssss!!)

• Word count: 5.5K

• A/N: my first Derek fic 😭 I hope you like it guys, please let me know what do you think about it and also comment, like and reblog, it’d mean the world. Sending lots of love to everyone ❤️

What part of your brain thought it was a good idea to make a bet with Derek Morgan?

You didn’t even know why you did it, it must’ve been the pleasure of losing because there was no way on earth you would’ve won.

You and Morgan were about to go interview a witness for a case you were working on: a serial killer who was killing his victims by setting fires. You were walking next to each other while you thought of some way to make what was going to be a long and boring afternoon, interesting.

You and Derek had a, well… Particular relationship, to say the least.

Months prior you and him had started to have sex. It started out as a purely physical thing as you had always been very attracted to each other, but as time went on you found yourselves spending time together and enjoying each other’s company even outside of a sexual sphere.

Your relationship, both from a working and private point of view, had always been characterized by a playful banter, mischievous jokes, by the constant flirting so it wasn’t strange you both often found yourselves making bets aimed to make lose the other’s mind.

In fact, it was at that moment that you came up with an idea for a bet, however forgetting he took them so seriously it seemed like his life depended on it, especially since most of the time he won, and the penances were of a sexual nature. Of course you didn’t mind losing one bit.

“I bet whoever lives here is a hot single bachelor in his twenties,” you said, pointing to the apartment where you were heading, ready to question the witness. He grinned and glanced at you, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Oh baby girl, you still don’t understand it’s a losing battle?”

“What’s the matter Agent Morgan, you afraid of losing?” You challenged him with the deliberate pleasure of teasing him and in fact he immediately gave in to your provocation.

He chuckled, shaking his head slightly in amusement. You arrived in front of the apartment door that had the number ‘23’ on its sign. You were standing facing each other while he thought about the penance, he would’ve make you do if you – most likely – lost.

Another evil, mocking grin appeared on his lips, and you immediately knew you were in trouble. “You’ll give me your panties when you lose.”

“If I lose.”

“When. But you can still back out.”

“Never.”

He held out a hand towards you but you didn’t miss the way his eyes roamed over your body from head to toe, checking you out without shame. Over time you had learned to understand what he was thinking, what was hidden behind his look and you almost caught fire because you immediately recognized that look, it was the one he gave you when he was imagining you naked in every possible and imaginable position.

And in fact, you weren’t wrong.

Just the thought of having your panties in his pocket, walking around and smelling you, was enough to make his dick stir in his pants.

You knew the odds of you winning the bet were slim, but your competitive nature made you shake Morgan’s hand, and he gave you another one of his panty-ripping smiles.

“Wipe that smirk off your face, don’t take the victory for granted.”

He raised his hands in surrender, chuckling. “I would never dare but be realistic darling. Do you know how low the odds are?”.

“What if I win?”.

“You won’t.”

“What if I win?” You repeated, crossing your arms over your chest.

He shrugged, very sure he’d win. “You’ll choose the penance.”

You thought about it for a moment and a mischievous smile appeared on your lips this time. “I’ll do a strip tease and a lap dance.”

He looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “How is that a penance? Baby I’d drop on my knees right now to make this happen...”

“…But you’ll be handcuffed, you won’t be able to touch me and I won’t make you come.”

He opened his mouth wide, feeling his dick twitch just at the thought. He had to force himself to think of something else since he didn’t want to question a witness with a raging hard on but it was awfully difficult when all he could do was imagine you strip teasing and grinding on his lap. “Fuck I don’t know if I should win or lose.”

“If you want to end up with blue balls then you have to hope to lose.”

You knocked on the apartment door, still maintaining eye contact with Derek and trying to hold back your laughter since you knew exactly what he was thinking. You took your eyes away from him only to let them travel down his body and to the crotch of his pants which was clearly prominent at that moment. You bit your lip as you looked back at his face and he glared at you.

“Don’t look at me like that,” he whispered, feeling the situation getting even worse. Damn it, he felt like a damn horny teenager.

Before you could respond to his comment the door opened, revealing a person who couldn’t be more different from the object of your bet. He in fact was a she, a lady who couldn’t have been less than sixty years old.

Your smile dropped as the one on Derek’s face grew even more and, as you had already said, you wondered what part of your brain had thought it was a good idea to make that bet.

“Good morning. Can I help you?” she looked skeptically at both of you.

“Oh yes ma’am, you just made my day so much better,” he replied softly but glancing at you. “We’re FBI agents, may we ask you few questions?”

Over the next hour and a half you interviewed other witnesses near the fire scene and on your way to the car, Derek wouldn’t stop trying to get close to you and touch you.

“Derek stop it! We’re in public! God you’re so unprofessional,” you slapped one of his hands away that had been squeezing your ass for the last couple of minutes, trying not to laugh.

“There’s nothing professional about what we do, baby girl,” he replied with mock annoyance, “Plus I can’t help it, I can’t wait to rip your panties off.”

“Nuh uh mister, the deal was that I have to give you my panties not you taking them off me.”

He snorted and rolled his eyes as you approached the car but before you could get in he grabbed your hand and turned you towards him. He placed his hands on your face and as he pushed your back against the car door he crushed his lips on yours.

He didn’t care about passers-by in any way, in people’s eyes you might have looked like a couple who was passionately making out.

After the first few seconds of surprise, you immediately kissed him back, parting your lips and letting him slip his tongue into your mouth. You knew it was totally unprofessional to kiss your colleague in broad daylight while you were doing your job but all it took was for him to get close for you to lose your mind, no longer able to think clearly.

Your hands moved down his chest to encircle his waist, trying to pull him closer to you than his body already was. Your mouths moved in sync while he seemed to want to suck his soul out of you and although you were now used to kissing him, every time it was as if it was the first.

You almost moaned into the kiss, your body already on fire, wanting more. You wanted him so badly, you wanted his hands, his fingers, his mouth and his tongue all over you.

“Derek please…” you sighed when you broke away, his face still dangerously close to yours.

“Get in the car princess,” he ordered and his voice was so low and seductive that if he had asked you to give him a blowjob right there on the sidewalk you would’ve dropped on your knees without the slightest hesitation.

He opened the door for you and you giggled like a teenager before getting in, thanking him as you watched him walk around the car before getting in too.

“I would’ve fucked you in the car here and now if we weren’t in public. You’re so fucking hot baby,” he whispered against your lips after moving closer to you and taking your chin between his fingers. “But I’ll settle taking your panties off for now.”

He placed a hand on your breast and groped it before sliding it across your stomach to your jeans-covered pussy. You moaned as he began to touch you, making you squirm under his expert fingers.

“I bet you’re already wet, aren’t you honey?” He continued to tease you.

“Fuck Derek… They’ll see us…”

“You’re right,” he replied, stopping touching you, causing you to moan and grunt at the same time. “No one should look at what is mine.”

God Derek Morgan and the things he made you feel. You were starting to really hate him.

“You’re having so much fun aren’t you?”

He started the car but not before throwing you one last mocking and sexy as hell grin. “You have no idea how much.”

You squeezed your legs together in anticipation feeling the urge and desire grow more and more. You continued to look at him as he drove, observing every feature of his perfect profile with your hungry eyes.

How could someone be so perfect?

And it didn’t help he had one hand resting on your inner thigh as his thumb was stroking dangerously close to your intimate area. You didn’t know whether to hate him, to beg him to go higher or both but certainly the smug expression on his face made you want to punch him.

Derek drove to a hidden, dead end road, not caring the rest of the team was probably waiting to hear from both you and him.

He kissed you breathless again, threading a hand into your hair. But he didn’t stay there for long as he moved down your chest again, wasting no time in groping your breasts again, until he reached your pussy again.

“God Derek you’re driving me crazy,” you hissed as you struggled to keep control. He kissed you again and unbuttoned your pants and you lifted your hips before your brain could even process the movement, allowing him to slide them down your thighs. You took off your shoes, slipping your pants off.

He slipped his hands into your underwear and a loud moan escaped your lips that Derek felt right in his dick. “As I imagined… So fucking wet.”

“Fuck yes just like that,” you sighed as his fingers drew circles on your clit. You gripped the sides of the seat as if searching for a leverage, pleasure flowing through your veins.

He knew where to touch you, he knew HOW to touch you, what to do to make you lose your mind and control.

“I'm dying to taste this pussy, look at you soaking up my fingers,” he whispered in your ear, pressing his lips to your neck and sucking on your skin but being careful not to leave any marks. The team already didn’t give you any respite suspecting there was something between you, he certainly didn’t want to give them clear proof.

Two of his fingers slipped easily inside your wet pussy, curling inside you and touching that spongy spot that made you moan and thinking you were about to ascend to heaven.

“Yes, yes, oh god yes,” you kissed him, spreading your legs even more to give him more access.

“You like that don’t you? My pretty girl loves being so dirty, letting me finger this pussy in public.”

You dipped your head back in pleasure, feeling the orgasm already building inside you.

He pulled his fingers out and you grunted at the loss and took off your panties, bringing them to his nose and deeply inhaling the scent that drove him so crazy: you and sex. “Now I really don’t know how I’m going to go through the whole day without being hard knowing I have your panties here,” he spoke up as he stuffed them into his pocket. “But we should go back.”

What?

“Derek you can’t leave me like this!”.

“Oh I can and I will, we shouldn’t let the others think we might be doing something shouldn’t we?”

“You fucking piece of shit.”

He burst out laughing and you nearly punched him in his handsome face.

You were furious. Irritated.

You were furious, irritated but above all horny.

After that little stunt he had done in the car Derek had really left you like that, without an orgasm and with a mad desire to fuck.

The rest of the day was torture, especially having to work with other people while pretending you didn’t feel like you were on the edge the whole time. You didn’t spare Morgan some dirty looks after which he had to force himself not to laugh but he didn’t spare you those languid looks full of lust either.

It wasn’t easy for you but it wasn’t easy for him either since, unlike you, couldn’t hide his excitement so easily. Knowing he had your panties in his pocket and the memory of your wet pussy were giving him no respite.

In reality, you both loved that little game, teasing and torturing each other until the other lost his mind, even if… To be honest, wearing jeans without underwear was complete torture.

At the end of the day, when you were finally all in your own room, you took the opportunity to take a shower and put on a dress and the sexy lingerie you had put in your bag before leaving for the new case.

You giggled just thinking about Derek’s reaction.

You went to his room, knocking twice before he opened the door making your jaw drop and almost fall to the floor when you realized he was naked and only had a towel around his waist.

His body was still wet, sign he had just gotten out of the shower, the drops running down his sculpted chest that you wanted to lick off one by one.

“Oh man…” He sighed. “You’re breathtaking baby,” he began, shamelessly scanning your body from head to toe, a smirk on his lips. “I was wondering when you were coming.”

“You always opening the door like this, Agent Morgan?” You asked ironically before entering his room without even waiting for him to invite you.

“Woah woah woah, where do you think you’re going baby girl? Where is my kiss?” He scolded you, almost truly offended after closing the door behind him.

You giggled, but unable to take your eyes off his body and stop them from wandering hungrily over his figure.

“No, dry yourself first and then I’ll kiss you,” you replied before going to sit on the edge of the bed, placing your hands behind you on the mattress and tilting your head slightly as you looked at him.

He didn’t answer but came closer to you and placed two fingers on your chin, forcing you to lift your head and pressing your lips to his in a sweet kiss that took the air out of your lungs.

“Jealous Agent Y/Ln?” He whispered an inch from your lips, referring to your initial question after making you get up from the bed.

“Not even a little bit, it was just an innocent question agent Morgan.”

Absolutely. You were 100% jealous.

But you knew from the way the corner of his mouth lifted in a twisted, mischievous smile he didn’t believe it one bit. “You know, being a profiler I thought you were better at hiding emotions. Lies don’t look good on you pretty girl.”

“That would be true if I had told a lie but that’s not the case, I’m not jealous at all,” you said with a confident tone as your gaze alternated between his eyes and his lips. He was so close and so tempting you felt like you were already losing patience.

“To answer the question, no, I don’t answer to anyone. Just you.”

“You? Derek Morgan?”.

He chuckled. “Strange right? But it seems like you’ve done some weird witchcraft on me because I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“You already got in my pants, no need to be cheesy,” you retorted, biting your lip to keep from smiling.

He sighed, slightly shaking his head. “Always so cynical. What should I do with you?”

“Give me back my panties?”.

He raised an eyebrow. “Have you forgotten what the word ‘lose’ means?”.

“If I had known you liked them so much I would’ve bought you a new pair to wear you know.”

“You think you’re so funny don’t you?”. He grabbed your face with one hand, his mouth dangerously close to yours but never touching it.

You nodded with a smirk as you watched as his eyes were fixed on your lips. “Maybe you might like what I have now better.”

You took a step back and the look of pure confusion on his face was replaced by astonishment when he saw your hands lower the thick straps of your dress down your arms, then lowering the side zip and letting the dress fall around your feet.

The look of shock on his face was something you’d never forget.

Derek widened his mouth and eyes, letting his hungry gaze travel along your body wrapped in lace lingerie, studying every curve and inch of your skin. A warm feeling spread in your lower abdomen and it was amazing how just the way he looked at you was enough to turn you on.

“Holy shit…” he breathed out, “You… Are… You… Holy fuck…” he continued stuttering, unable to form a single meaningful sentence.

“Wow did I really manage to surprise Agent Morgan?” You giggled, your cheeks flushed and stomach filled with fluttering butterflies, knowing you had such an effect on him. Derek Morgan – the man who with a single smile and a look could’ve make rows and rows of women fall at his feet – was drooling over you, looking at you like you were the eighth wonder of the world.

“I’ll answer you when some blood returns to my brain.”

Your gaze trailed down his body and your insides clenched at the sight of his prominent erection beneath the towel around his waist. Your mouth watered just thinking about what was underneath that single fabric, imagining his dick in your mouth, in every hole in your body as he filled you completely.

“You look spectacular Y/n, my god” he murmured, his chocolate brown eyes still on your body and never on your face. You could see him struggling in not knowing what to pay more attention to, your breasts which were perfectly highlighted by the lace that gave that see-through effect while it showed the shadow of your nipples, if the hold-ups that surrounded your thighs that Derek wanted nothing more than to mark and bite or your pussy also covered in matching lace in which he wanted to dive and feed on it until he drown himself to death.

Derek moved closer to you, closing the small distance between the two of you. “Turn around. Show me this beautiful ass that torments me in my sleep.”

The tone of his voice alone made you almost beg him to do anything he wanted. You didn’t have to be told twice and you turned around, your skin on fire as you felt his penetrating gaze on you as he observed and studied every millimeter of your body.

You heard Derek exhale a deep breath behind you. “A fucking goddess. You’re absolutely mesmerizing.”

A rush of shivers gave you goosebumps as he placed his rough hands on your arms, stroking them slowly before moving up and moving your hair from your shoulders and letting it fall along your shoulder blades, leaving your neck exposed. His lips began to plant kisses on your skin and the mere contact made you sigh and tilt your head to the side, giving him more access.

“Do you have any idea how crazy you drive me?” he whispered in your ear and you clenched your hands into fists, pressing your nails into your palms in an attempt to release the frustration you felt. Every second that passed while he didn’t touch you as you wanted there was a shred of your sanity that was shattered.

You shook your head, realizing you hadn’t answered yet.

His hands went down your arms again, then moving up your hips until they reached your ass. You let out a gasp when his fingers tightened around the flesh of your ass, squeezing it, groping it with the sole purpose of torturing you and leaving you eager for more.

“God the things I want do to you baby, you can’t even imagine.”

“Do it Derek, do whatever you want to me… I need you.”

“I love feeling you so desperate for me.”

An empty feeling came over you as his fingers let go of your ass, moving to your hips. However, you moaned when he pushed his body against yours, pressing his erection against the curves of your ass and grinding against you without shame or restraint.

“Fuck Derek,” you murmured, now on the verge of losing your mind.

One of his hands ended up around your throat, forcing you to bend your head and rest it on his shoulder while the other cupped one of your breasts, palpating it over the top of your bra. You sighed, rubbing your ass against his hard dick as you couldn’t wait for it to stretch your pussy.

“That’s what you do to me, you make me so hard I can’t even think straight anymore.” He pinched your hard nipple from above the fabric. “You have no idea how much I want to rip this off of you but I know you’d kill me,” he chuckled in your ear.

“I don’t give a shit.” You blurted out, not evens embarrassed about how fast you said it.

“What do you want baby? Talk to me.”

God it was so damn hard talking when you were so horny you couldn’t even remember your name, the denied orgasm making things worse.

“You. Fuck me, please. I need you so badly Derek.”

He tightened his hand lightly around your neck, cupping your chin then turning your head towards him and before you knew it he slammed his lips onto yours, sucking the breath from your body as his tongue explored your mouth in a sloppy, deep kiss.

He slowly slid the fingers of his other hand – that until a few seconds before were on your breast – along your chest, your lower abdomen, touching your needy and drenched pussy with his fingertips. You whined during the kiss, spontaneously lifting your hips to try and meet his fingers.

God you were hating him at that moment.

“I can smell your wetness from here, is my baby horny for me?” he whispered on your lips swollen and red from the impetuous kiss.

“I’ll fucking kill you right now Morgan I swear to god.”

He laughed and your stomach clenched in on itself. “Don’t worry baby, I’m here. I’m going to fuck your brains out, so good you won’t even be able to get up when I’m done with you.” This time it was your pussy that clenched when you squeezed your legs together for some friction. Derek let go of your throat and began to play with your panties. Your breath hitched as he slowly began to lower them, trailing them down your legs.

“I think I’ll keep these too,” he whispered even as his voice came loud and clear to your ears. You turned your head to the side so you could look at him and let out a ragged sigh when you saw him kneeling behind you. His eyes shone under the light of the hotel room as they looked at you with so much intensity that they alone would’ve been enough to set you on fire.

He left a kiss on your ass, making you gasp to the point of embarrassment as he bit your skin and groped your now bare ass. “One day I’ll fuck this pretty little ass too and you’ll love every second of it.”

“You can start by fucking my pussy now.”

He chuckled again as he stood up. He placed a hand on your heated back, inviting you to lean on the bed in front of you and you obeyed, resting your hands on the bed and giving him a perfect view of your ass.

“I can see from here how wet you are baby girl,” he moved closer to you, his bare thighs touching yours and then you realized he had removed the towel from his waist.

God have mercy on me.

“I’ll eat this beautiful pussy later but now all I can think about is fucking her so good,” he said as his fingers brushed against you and this little contact, combined with his dirty words, made you squirm with anticipation. “After all, you deserve it after being such a good girl all day.”

You felt him place his tip near your entrance and you both moaned as he slid his dick against your folds, wetting it with your fluids. He provoked you, tortured you with every motion, it was what he was best at, he knew which points to touch to drive you crazy and leave you painfully longing.

“Derek please, I want you so much,” you whined in a pathetic tone full of lust and desire as he continued to penetrate you with just the tip and then pull out. You hated him and wanted him at the same time, so much it hurt.

“What do you want, princess?” His hands gripped your hips and he leaned over you, pressing his lips to your skin before leaving damp, wet kisses all over your back.

“Fuck me.”

“Fuck,” he hissed through gritted teeth before lining his dick up with your entrance and finally filling you.

“Oh God yes, you feel so god Derek.” You panted vigorously, your heart beating so hard it almost stopped as you felt his soft and especially bare skin touching every corner of you.

He remained still for a few moments, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tried to maintain control of his body. You were so wet and it felt so good being inside you, Derek feared that with just one push he would’ve come on the spot.

“Baby please… Move…”

Baby.

Fuck.

That simple little word had no business making his insides twist like he had. You were used to calling each other nicknames, it wasn’t new, but there was something in that ‘baby’ you said: perhaps it was the vulnerability with which you pronounced it, breathless and as if he was the only one who could save you, the way your voice was so full of desire.

Derek pulled out before thrusting into you again with a strong thrust so deep if it hadn’t been for his hands firmly gripping your hips you would’ve probably fallen forward.

“You have no idea what you do to me, fucking hell you drive me crazy,” he breathed out, head tilted back and eyes closed as his dick pounded into you like he was angry.

You tried to formulate a meaningful sentence but as you opened your lips only gasps and moans came out. He was fucking you so deeply that with each thrust you felt a piece of your brain coming out of your head and your soul out of your body.

Exactly like he promised.

All the hidden frustration made its way and exploded like a time bomb, not much time passing until even the orgasm began to build inside you.

Your face was pressed into the sheets of the bed, your breathing heavy and quickening as your hands clenched the fabric into a fist. “Derek…” you whimpered in pleasure as you pushed your pelvis towards him with each thrust. It didn’t seem to be enough though, you wanted more and more.

One of his hands continued to hold your hips firmly while he slid the other along your back, until he reached your hair which he tightened in a fist forcing you to lift your head. His moans and groans sounded like music to your ears and you couldn’t contain the joy of knowing it was you who made him feel this way, it was you who made him lose control.

“Fuck I could stay inside you forever, you take me so well. This pussy was made for me,” he groaned as the tip of his dick hit your G-spot, making you see stars. You wanted to answer but when you opened your mouth all that came out were moans and sighs. “Just for me… You understand?”

“Just you baby, only you,” you babbled while loudly moaning, not caring one bit if someone could hear you having sex.

His lips kissed your shoulder, his tongue traced every inch of skin he could reach. “That’s right pretty girl…” he groaned in your ear, his sentence interrupted by another moan. “Fuck yeah you’re mine.”

“Holy shit baby… I’m about to come…” You managed to say and the orgasm that hit you full on like a truck gave you no mercy, didn’t let you escape as it sucked away your ability to breath. If it wasn’t for Derek’s hand still in your hair you would’ve collapsed on the mattress.

His thrusts became unhinged, even more out of control than they were before and it didn’t take long for him to reach his climax too. How could he resist? There was no chance, not when your pussy was tightening around his dick in the throes of orgasmic spasms, leaving him no escape.

Derek exploded inside you, emptying himself into you until the last drop of his seed filled your pussy, then leaking from your entrance and sliding down your thighs as he pulled out.

“Shit,” he breathed as you felt the weight of the mattress dip as he collapsed next to you. “You destroy me baby, how do you manage to do this every single time?”

You mumbled something nonsensical in response, eyes closed and too tired to say anything. He chuckled and stroked your hair, brushing it away from your face so he could get a good look at you.

You were so beautiful, ethereal, so mesmerizing it hurt and seeing that happy and pleased look on your face almost sent him to his knees, internally promising himself he’d fight every single person on earth just to always see you so relaxed and happy.

“How many women do you tell this?” you managed to say, opening one eye and keeping the other closed and a flock of butterflies exploded in your stomach when you saw the breathtaking smile he was looking at you with.

“If you think there is someone capable of making me feel what you feel, you’re very wrong. Like I already said, I don’t know what strange witchcraft you did to me but you really hooked me baby.” He propped himself up on one elbow and leaned towards you, pressing small kisses across your face, neck, shoulders and all the way up to your lips. “There is no one else since you came in in my life, I’m so obsessed with you it’s not even funny.”

You opened your second eye too, suddenly not so tired anymore. “Really?”

“Why, isn’t the same for you?” he asked, his stomach clenched with jealousy at the thought of a man laying a finger on you. “Please tell me no or someone help me I will kill every man who even looked at you, I’m an FBI agent and I know how to hide dead bodies in such a way that not even the families will ever find them.”

You burst out laughing, and rolled onto your back before throwing your arms around his neck so you could bring him closer to you and press your lips to his. “Don’t you think that’s a bit extreme?”

“Y/n. Don’t fucking test me.”

“I’m just kidding,” your lips brushed against his before planting another small kiss on them. “There couldn’t be another man even if they forced me, you’ve really messed up my life Agent Morgan and I’m pretty much obsessed with you too.”

“That better be. We’re exclusive since the day I kissed you in that elevator,” he grumbled. “God I love when you call me baby,” he then sighed happily and the way his mood shifted so quickly made. Your fingers caressed his soft, perfect skin and he mumbled with contentment. You noticed how his pupils were so dilated the chocolate surrounding them had almost disappeared. “Mine, only mine.”

“And you’re mine darling, I’m an FBI agent too and I know a thousand ways to make deaths look like accidents.” He pressed his lips to yours again, kissing you so deeply your heart almost stopped in your chest.

Derek Morgan would be the death of you, you were certain of that.

“Just give me five more minutes and I’ll show you how much we belong to each other princess, how much I look, think and breathe for you only.”

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[luveline]

You mentioned in one post that bombshell!reader was furious with the team for not helping Reid with his addiction (as she should be)…. Would you maybe write about her helping him thru withdrawal or thru the cravings that follow? Maybe subtly at first, then just making sure he knew he wasn’t alone? Just some tender moments where Spencer starts to realize she actually cares about him, even if he doesn’t believe her flirting yet.

-🌕

I love every single thing you write, even for fandoms I’m not even in. You’re amazing!!

thank you for requesting my sweetheart!!! I really hope this is what you wanted, love you <3 fem!reader

cw past drug abuse

“Hi, Spencer Reid.” 

You perch on the edge of his desk with no further introduction. You’ve changed perfumes, to his immediate recognition, the rich smell of your usual parfum swapped for a less consuming scent. He detects apple blossom, and rose, the smallest hint of jasmine, a contrast to your usual vanilla and peony. The human brain can remember 50,000 scents, and Spencer can remember all of yours. Or, he could. 

“You’re not saying hi anymore?” 

“Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hi. It’s nice to see you.” You put your hand on his. Spencer isn’t sure you’ve ever touched his hand before, he’s never really let you, but he doesn’t move away. A huge winding of tension between his shoulders begins to unspool. “It’s really nice to see you, babe. I’ve missed you tons and tons.” 

He looks up tentatively. “You have?” 

“I have. I haven’t really been invited, today. I’m just here to see you.” 

“Why?” Spencer asks. 

You tighten your fingers on his hand. “Missed you. Thought maybe we should, like…” And that’s unusual, for you to use filler words, Spencer doesn’t know what to think of it. “Well, I have something to say to you, and it’s going to either sound reassuring or ridiculous.” 

“Okay.” 

You give him a withering look. “Don’t make it any easier for me.” 

He laughs. The sound alone fosters your smile. “Sorry,” he says softly, “I doubt it’ll be ridiculous.” 

“Spencer Reid, we are friends. We are. But we never do anything outside of work, so I was thinking you could come over tonight and we’d make dinner and watch TV and stuff.” 

“And stuff.” 

“I’m a bit nervous,” you confess, looking down at your lap, then quickly back up into his face, “I’m worried you won’t want to.” 

You’re kind to avoid saying what he’s sure you’re thinking; you’re worried he won’t want to spend the night with you, and instead will look down the long barrel of a small needle. Or, he thinks that’s what you’re thinking. He does it to everyone. 

“What do you want to make for dinner?” he asks. 

“What are you enjoying lately?” 

“I… I don’t know. I’m not really eating.”

“Cereal?” 

“Yes,” he laughs. “Lots of cereal.” 

You tap the wheel of his chair with your heel. You’re dressed as though you aren’t working, wearing a sweet dark dress with a starched collar and baby sleeves, stockings, and a necklace at your neck that glows with a small white crystal. You look amazing. It never makes any sense to Spencer, why you’d taken an interest in him, and why you bother now. He knows he’s hard to care for. He knows he’s making it worse. 

You look up and down his face. You must see the purple half circles beneath his eyes, the crack at the corner of his mouth, the cut he can’t stop picking on his cheek. Every time it scabs, he opens it again. One second he’s sitting there and the next he’s got blood under his fingernail. 

“Hug?” you ask hopefully. 

He goes to stand. You move in too fast and wrap your arms around him, leg slotting between his, leaning over his shoulders with a distinct sense of protectiveness. You squeeze him, a little sigh escaping you that sounds loud so close to his ear. 

“How has it been this week?” you ask quietly. 

“It’s fine.” He cups your back in his arm carefully. The other wraps tight around the small of it. He soaks you up, scared you’re gonna pull away any second. 

“How are you feeling about it? Do you need any extra help?” 

He cringes. “No,” he says. “It’s really fine.” 

“When you texted me, about the cravings? What are they like today?” 

He wishes he could breathe in the smell of your perfume and your skin and tell you they’re all better now. It would make sense; there isn’t much in his life that hasn’t been made better by your attention. He’d struggle to do this without you. You’re his only friend who actually cared enough to say the problem out loud, but you’re just a woman, you can’t work the sort of magic necessary to kick this for him. 

“Spencer?” You pull away, nudging his cheek with the back of your finger. 

“They’re okay. I’m not gonna do anything.” 

“Good, honey. I’m proud of you. I know how hard this is.” 

He bites the inside of his lip, surprised at your caring. He shouldn’t be.

“What are you two whispering about?”

You and Spencer have different reactions to Emily’s sudden question. He flinches like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and you, still vaguely pissed with everyone for not telling you Spencer was struggling and not afraid to show it, keep your eyes trained on his face. 

“Nothing,” Spencer says. 

You turn to her with a small smile. You still like her, Spencer knows. Secretly, he’s pleased you’re angry for him. It’s nice to have someone so obviously on his side. “We’re just deciding what to get for dinner.” 

“Oh, nice. Date night?” she teases. 

You press your cheek to his forehead. “Date night,” you agree, your hand unmissable where it bunches in his sweater near his heart. 

[papercorgiworld]

A good excuse to kiss

The requested Theo and Mattheo version of ‘a good excuse to kiss’

In order to keep your best friend’s relationship a secret you have to distract a certain slytherin.

Aria (cameo by @justdizzie ) is your Gryffindor best friend and has a secret relationship with Draco.

Read the Enzo and Blaise version here.

Not really proofread, so let me know if there's any major errors that hurt your brain. I really wanted to write and post something for my 2000 reblogs milestone so this might be a bit rushed. Anyways, here's some Mattheo and Theo content, I feel like it's been a while since I wrote for them, so enjoy and lots of love to all of you.

Damn it, Aria, where are you? It was lunch time and you still hadn’t seen your friend. You were seriously getting worried, which brought you to the door of Draco’s room. You were pleased to find the Slytherin common room empty, since Aria and Draco’s relationship was top secret you really couldn’t bring her up around his friends. 

“I think we should get up.” Draco whispers softly as his hand strokes Aria’s soft hair. With still sleepy eyes she looks up at him. “But I’m so comfy.” Draco smiles and gives her a soft kiss on top of her head, before wrapping his arms around her.  

Your fist hits the door hard. “Malfoy!” You yell and immediately you take a step back hearing a lot of noise and loud whispers. “What do we do? Quick hide.” “Where?” You roll your eyes. “It’s me!” You yell and Aria on the other side of the door relaxes her shoulders. “It’s (y/n). Thank Godric." Draco relaxes as well and can’t help but smile. “We’ve got to stop doing this.” He sighs and Aria frowns at his words. “I mean the secrecy, not the dating!” Draco immediately explains. “Idiot. Like I would ever let you go.” He mutters, before kissing his girlfriend so she can’t complain about his little insult. 

The door opens and you see Aria’s messy black hair and apologetic brown eyes. “We overslept. Keep guard for a moment, I’ll be there in sec.” You nod, but as soon as the door closes you shake your head. Being the only friend that knows of their secret relationship was an honor, but also a full time job. Luckily for you, everyone was at lunch so no one would come looking for them, except…

Theo

You hear someone enter while cursing. “Where is that little sneaky slippery guy now?” You quickly scan the room to see if you can hide somewhere, but you don’t really see a way out and also you suddenly remember that you have to stand guard. Theo’s agitated gaze lands on you, fidgeting and awkwardly staring around the room. Things just got weirder, but also more interesting for Theo. “Why are you standing in front of Draco’s door like you’re hiding a dead body behind it?” You immediately feel caught, but you frown at the mentions of a dead body. “There’s no dead body.” You say, determined to prove to him you have no secrets, taking a few steps towards him in an attempt to keep him away from the door just in case he could hear Aria. “And how would you know?” Theo raises an eyebrow as his eyes meet yours. Gods, Theodore was the most smug and self confident guy you had ever met. 

“I checked.” You state and Theodore’s tongue wets his bottom lip while he raises his eyebrows. “And why exactly were you checking Draco’s room?” Your eyes widen a little as you fall short on excuses. “I-I-I’m I’m-I had a project… with Malfoy. I have a project with Malfoy and I came to check if he had done his work.” Despite your stammering you convince yourself you did well with your answer, but Theodore was far from buying it. 

“You’re a shit liar.” Theo snaps and shoves you aside, heading for Draco’s room. “Now let’s see what that blond’s up to!” Your brain goes blank as you panic when he walks past you, but Aria was your best friend so in an instant your instincts take over. You grab Theo’s arm and pull him towards you. Not expecting you to so violently jerk his arm Theodore turns towards you, but you give him no time to question your actions… or for you to question your own for that matter. Your hand reaches for the back of his head and you pull him in for a kiss. Theo lets you and even moves closer to you, his hands tracing from your hips to the small of your back. When you finally pull away your actions dawn on you and you’re met with a very amused and smirking Theodore. “What was that?” He demands in a soft whisper. Your mouth opens but your brain hasn’t come up with an excuse for your behavior yet, making Theo chuckle softly at your lost expression. “If you can’t come up with any good excuses your only option is to kiss me again.” His voice is suggestive, but you’re still too worried about your friend to realize he’s flirting. “I could always go check that room.” Theo suggests when he gets impatient with you and within a heartbeat you’re kissing him again.

This time Theodore meets you with even more passion and you can’t deny that he’s doing everything right. “Remind me to thank Draco later for whatever he’s got you keeping secret.” Theodore breathes in between kisses as his mouth sloppily works down your neck.

“Thank me for what exactly?” Draco’s voice has you spin away from each other to meet his smirk. Theodore doesn’t look very fazed by being caught, rather annoyed that the little make out got interrupted. When Theo looks over at you he immediately falls in love with your flustered look. You were very embarrassed, but at least you were a good friend to Aria.

Mattheo

“Ey Malfoy!” You’re startled when you recognise Mattheo’s loud and demanding voice. “Get your incredibly white ass to the great hall, you’re la-” Mattheo stops and his eyebrows knit together when he spots your sheepish figure standing in front of the door of Draco’s room. “What are you up to?” He demands, suspicious as he was about everyone but his close circle of friends. You cross your arms. “Nothing.” Your answer only makes Mattheo more curious and assures him that he’ll get whatever secrets you’re keeping out of you easily since you obviously possessed no skills of lying. 

“I recognise trouble when I see it.” Mattheo calmly walks over to you, his eyes falling down your figure, taking in every detail like he was going to find out all your secrets by watching you intently. You huff and try to wave away the fact Mattheo is successfully intimidating you. “You, Riddle, are trouble, I, on the other hand, am the innocence itself.” You state, tilting your head as you make your argument. Mattheo snorts and walks around you, making you turn and narrow your eyes at him. You were not some prey he could circle like this. “You weren’t just standing here, doing nothing. So explain yourself.” You lose all focus when he says those words as you see the doorknob of Draco’s door turn behind Mattheo. 

Smiling and unaware of Mattheo, Aria appears at the opening of the door and the panic that rushes over your face informs Mattheo that something’s going on. “Wha-” He turns, but you grab his face, squishing his cheeks in your hands. “What are you doing?” He demands with his face still smushed together. Aria is still in view and you realize that she’s going to hide somewhere to get out of the slytherin common room. Your attention is brought back to Mattheo when his hands pull on yours, but you can’t let him turn around so here goes nothing. 

You hoped that Mattheo’s eyes would close, but they go wide as your lips slam against his. Knowing that Aria is going to need a few seconds to get out of this room you decide to go in for a deep kiss, all or nothing. It only takes Mattheo a moment to realize what your effort is all about and he wouldn’t be a true slytherin if he didn’t take an opportunity like this to make out with a pretty girl. No secret you were keeping was worth missing out on a little make out session with you, according to Mattheo’s book. His hands immediately slip under your skirt to rest on your thighs and you want to complain about this rather blunt move of his, but when he finally kisses you back you let him because no guy had ever kissed you like this. There was an immense fire of desire in the way he kissed that ignited a deep longing for more within you. 

When he knows he’s doing it right he squeezes your ass urging you to move against him and allowing him to pick you up and push you against a nearby wall. Aria who has by now made it to the other side of the room is shocked by what she’s seeing. Her best friend who’s always so innocent full on making out with Mattheo Riddle of all guys and this before the day had even started properly. For a split second Aria considers coming to your rescue but as a soft moan leaves Mattheo when your fingers entangle with his hair and you throw back your head allowing him to nip at your sweet spot, your friend decides it best not to interrupt this and rather tease you about it later.

Picture source: https://pin.it/1WOSNnX6U

[yzzyhee]

flamin’ hot lemon — lhs

bf!heeseung x gf!reader

warnings: established relationship, suggestive (blowjob— minors dni), kissing/making out?, petnames (baby), lowcases written

wc: 3.8k~

synopsis: you know how the saying goes… save a horse, ride a cowboy… or do something about it as long as it’s saving the horse…

now listen to: flamin’ hot lemon — jaehyun

a/n: now. this song was on repeat ever since the release so obviously, it had to happen as i remembered the sweet venom stage— also ! first time writing smth that’s like not fluff / small suggestive and actually going almost all the way in but well, this was heavily saved by my beloved precious @ja3yun — a big round of applause cause without her this fic would’ve never seen the daylight 🙂‍↕️ anyway, feedbacks & constructive criticism is appreciated ✌🏻

ps. my wife said to make it clear there won’t be a part two so i’m saying it — there won’t be a part too.

you blink. and then you blink again, and again, and again as if each time you won’t be met with the same view, thinking it must be your eyes playing tricks with you.

“baby? you okay?” heeseung asks, a slight hint of worry in his eyes though his tone gives him away. he knows. of course, he knows why you’re suddenly speechless, staring at him as if he came out of your shared bedroom completely naked.

your mouth parts, forming an “o” as you try to wrap your mind around the view before you. and what a beautiful view… there he stands, your boyfriend, in all his denim-clad cowboy glory.

the fitted jacket hugs his frame in all the right places, highlighting his broad shoulders and the way the jeans cling to his legs is almost unfair. a silver belt attached to his jeans that accentuates his pretty tiny waist. and of course, the most important part of it all, the cowboy-denim hat that sits low on his head, casting a shadow over his mischievous eyes.

you knew you were going to match — a cowboy always has to have his cowgirl after all. you have the perfect blend of casual and playful; a fitted, deep red plaid button-up shirt, with the sleeves rolled up just above your elbows, high-waisted denim shorts that hug your hips perfectly, a fringed brown suede vest that you wear over your shirt, and a pair of scuffed-up cowboy boots completing your whole look.

“yn?” he smirks, his voice low as he takes a slow step toward you. “cat got your tongue?”

you blink again, the heat rising in your cheeks as your brain scrambles to catch up. your mind isn’t cooperating with you, struggling to string together a coherent thought, let alone a sentence. you try to focus, but the way heeseung is standing there — all cocky and confident in that ridiculously attractive cowboy outfit — has your nerves completely scrambled.

“i- what… what is this?” you finally manage to stutter, gesturing vaguely toward his outfit. the words feel clumsy on your tongue, your heart pounding a little too loudly in your chest.

heeseung chuckles softly, his hands casually resting on his hips, the gesture making you even more aware of how well the denim clings to his figure.

“it’s for the party tonight. you like it?” his voice is low, teasing, and you know now that he’s fully aware of the effect he’s having on you.

right, the party. your friends thought it was a brilliant idea to throw a random halloween party even though it wasn’t even remotely close to 31st october, yet, you still agreed without much thought. but now, standing here, facing heeseung like this, it’s hard to focus on anything except how your pulse seems to be dancing under your skin, and how your throat has gone dry.

you try to clear your head, but every time you look at him, the butterflies in your stomach only get worse. heeseung’s eyes don’t leave yours, the playful spark in them making your pulse race even more. his presence feels overwhelming, like the air between you two is thick with electricity.

“i-yeah,” you breathe, swallowing hard. “i just wasn’t expecting… this.”

his smirk deepens, and you catch the slight shift in his expression, a glimmer of amusement mixed with something else—something darker, more intense. “i wanted to surprise you,” he says, his voice soft now, like he’s not just talking about the costume.

and suddenly, you’re acutely aware of how close he’s standing, the warmth radiating off him, the way his fingers brush against your waist as he steps in even closer. you can smell his cologne, something warm and familiar, but tonight it feels different, headier and spicier somehow.

“so, are you surprised?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper now, as he gently tilts your chin up, his thumb tracing along your jawline.

you nod, your breath hitching in your throat. you’re not sure if it’s the way he’s looking at you, or the way his thumb continues to brush against your skin, but you feel like your heart might just burst out of your chest. everything feels so intense — like the whole room has shrunk to just the two of you.

heeseung leans in, his lips hovering just above yours, and you feel like time slows down. your heart is racing, your entire body tingling with anticipation as his breath mingles with yours. you close your eyes, waiting, wanting.

then, he closes the distance, his lips finally meeting yours in a soft, tentative kiss. it’s gentle at first, like he’s testing the waters, but when you respond — when you kiss him back with equal intensity — something shifts. the kiss deepens, his hands sliding around your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies.

your mind blanks, the only thing you can focus on is the warmth of his lips against yours, the way his hands grip your waist, the way he kisses you like he’s been waiting for this moment just as much as you have. it’s slow but deliberate, filled with a tenderness that has your heart fluttering wildly in your chest.

when he pulls back, his forehead resting gently against yours, his breath is slightly uneven, and his lips are curved into a soft smile.

“i think we should head out for the party now…” you say, your voice just slightly louder than a whisper.

humming in response, heeseung’s lips brush your forehead in a featherlight kiss before he straightens, his hands reluctantly sliding from your waist. “right,” he says, his voice hushed and warm, though there’s a playful glint in his eyes. “wouldn’t want to keep the party waiting.”

by the time you reach your friend’s hourse, it’s buzzing with life. you can hear the thumping bass of music before you even reach the front door, the muffled sound of laughter and voices spilling out onto the porch. the house is decked out in full halloween glory — orange and purple lights drape across the front yard, casting an eerie glow over the hay bales and fake tombstones scattered across the lawn. a giant inflatable skeleton waves ominously from the roof, its eyes flickering red.

the inside of the house is even more chaotic. there are people everywhere, dressed in every kind of costume imaginable — witches, zombies, vampires, superheroes — filling the space with laughter and energy. the smell of caramel apples and popcorn mingles with the unmistakable scent of candy and punch, and the air is thick with excitement.

heeseung’s hand tightens slightly around yours as you weave through the crowd, his thumb still brushing against your skin in that comforting way you love so much. you catch glimpses of familiar faces as you move deeper into the house, waving at people you know from classes as you pass. everyone seems to be caught up in the pre-halloween spirit, and the atmosphere is electric, a blend of fun chaos and easygoing joy.

you suddenly spot jay, his cowboy hat cocked at a ridiculous angle, standing with his girlfriend, aejay, by the snack table. jay is in a flannel shirt and boots, looking like he stepped straight out of a western, while aejay rocks a sleek, edgy vampire costume — her dark lips and red contacts making her look both elegant and slightly dangerous. they’re laughing about something, jay’s arm slung casually around her shoulders.

when jay catches sight of you and heeseung, his grin widens. “well, well, look who finally decided to show up!” he calls, raising his red solo cup in greeting. “and look at you, heeseung, pulling off that cowboy look like you were born for it.”

heeseung grins back, tugging you closer as you approach. you laugh, shaking your head. “is this some kind of cowboy reunion?” you ask when you reach the couple and eye jay more intently in his flannel and boots.

jay smiles and nods, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “we thought it’d be funny. jake should be around here somewhere too, dressed as that cowboy character from toy story.

heeseung immediately perks up, avid fan of the toy story movies, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “you mean woody?”

jay snickers, already sensing where this is going.

“well,” heeseung says, glancing at you with a mischievous grin, “looks like jake’s the only one buzzing with excitement tonight.” he leans closer to you, voice dropping to a playful whisper. “but don’t worry, baby — i’m no toy. you don’t have to pull my string to get me talking. however, you can pull on something else…”

you roll your eyes, groaning at the cheesy, suggestive line, but you can’t stop the smile tugging at your lips. “heeseung,” you laugh, nudging him in the side, “let’s just hope jake doesn’t take the woody too seriously tonight.”

jay bursts out laughing at that, and even heeseung’s eyes crinkle with amusement.

the four of you chat for a while, catching up amidst the hum of the party. aejay, always the life of any gathering, starts telling a dramatic story about how she had to battle three different costume stores to get the perfect set of vampire fangs. jay interrupts her every few seconds, adding his own exaggerated spin to the tale, making you laugh until your stomach hurts.

the lights are dim, casting everyone in a soft, warm glow, and the air is filled with the scent of sugar and cinnamon, along with the occasional burst of cold air from the open back door.

it’s a perfect kind of chaos—the kind where time seems to slow down and you’re acutely aware of every moment, every laugh, every smile. but most of all, you’re aware of heeseung’s presence beside you, his hand never leaving yours, his arm wrapping around your waist every so often, like he can’t bear to be too far away from you.

you keep stealing glances at him, your eyes tracing over the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his denim jacket fits perfectly across his broad shoulders.

you bite your bottom lip, unable to comprehend how this ridiculously handsome man is yours. every time you look at him, an involuntary expression of satisfaction and adoration spreads across your face. that’s right, he is yours.

sensing your stare, heeseung leans down, his lips ghosting over your ear in that soft, teasing way that always makes your heart race. “having fun?” he asks, his voice low and intimate, like a secret meant only for you.

you look up at him, your heart fluttering in your chest as you meet his gaze. his eyes are dark, full of warmth, and something else — something that sends a rush of heat to your cheeks. you nod, feeling your breath hitch slightly. “yeah,” you whisper, smiling softly. “i’m having a lot of fun.”

heeseung grins at your response, that familiar smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth as his arm tightens around your waist, pulling you just a little closer. the heat between you feels tangible, like the rest of the crowded room has melted away, leaving just the two of you. “good,” he murmurs, his lips pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your temple.

then, he leans back just enough to look into your eyes, his fingers grazing your chin. with a gentle touch, he tilts your head up towards him, his thumb brushing across your skin as he smiles, his voice dipping even lower. “wanna have even more fun?”

the way he says it, the way his eyes flicker with mischief, makes your pulse quicken. you can feel the air between you both shift, thick with anticipation, and all you can think about is how close his lips are to yours, how effortlessly he seems to set your whole world spinning with just a look.

heeseung’s grin deepens as he holds your gaze, his fingers still resting gently under your chin. you feel the tension change between the two of you. his face has written trouble all over it and, without another word, he gently grabs your hand, forgetting about your friends and starts tugging you through the crowd with that easy confidence you love so much.

“where are we going?” you ask, your heart racing in your chest, excitement swirling inside you as you follow him down the dimly lit hallway.

heeseung glances back at you, that signature playful smirk tugging at his lips. “wouldn’t you like to know?” he says, his voice teasing.

before you can ask another question, he stops in front of the bathroom door, pushing it open slightly and pulling you inside with him. the moment the door clicks shut, the noise of the party fades into a distant hum, leaving just the two of you together in the small space.

your back presses gently against the bathroom counter and heeseung leans in, his hands bracing on either side of you, caging you in, his eyes dark with a playful intensity. he doesn't say anything for a moment — just looks at you, his gaze roving over your face like he's taking his time, savouring the way you're biting your bottom lip, the way your breath catches every time he gets a little closer.

"you’ve been staring at me all night," he murmurs, his lips brushing just barely against your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. "got something on your mind, baby?"

your cheeks burn as his words settle over you, but you can't stop the grin that threatens to split your cheeks. "maybe," you tease back, your hands instinctively finding their way to the front of his denim jacket, your fingers toying with the fabric.

heeseung’s eyes flick down to your lips before meeting your gaze again. "you know," he says softly, his voice laced with amusement, "if you wanted my attention, all you had to do was ask."

you laugh, the sound light and breathless, your body buzzing with anticipation. "oh, i’ve had your attention all night," you counter, your voice just as teasing, leaning in closer, your lips grazing his jaw. "haven’t i?”

his breath hitches slightly at the contact, his arms tightening around you. "yeah, you have," he admits, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper, like it's just for you. "but now... i think I want a little more."

your heart skips a beat at his words, your pulse thrumming wildly in your chest. heeseung leans in, his lips hovering dangerously close to yours, close enough.

your heart races as heeseung’s lips hover close to yours, the tension between you thick and electric. the space around you seems to shrink, and the air feels warmer, heavier, with anticipation. his breath mingles with yours, and you're maddeningly aware of how close his body is to yours, how his hands on either side of you are steady, but his eyes — his eyes tell you he's barely holding back.

your hands tighten their grip on the front of his jacket, pulling him closer still, your breath dancing with his. the sound of your heartbeat thrums in your ears, loud and steady, as you resist the urge to close the gap between you immediately. instead, you let the tension simmer, savouring the way it builds and swells in the space between you both.

"i want to give you something," you say softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

heeseung raises an eyebrow, his eyes dark with curiosity and desire, but his smirk never falters. "yeah?" he murmurs, his lips just a breath away from yours, his hand gently sliding down your arm, leaving a trail of warmth in its wake. "what’s that, baby?"

you bite your lip, your pulse quickening. "a little reward," you tease, your voice playful yet laced with intent.

his grip on your waist tightens slightly, and you can feel the tension in his body as he leans in closer, his lips brushing the edge of your ear, sending shivers down your spine. "i like the sound of that," he whispers, his voice low and rough.

you grin, your heart racing, and slowly, you let your fingers slide down from his jacket to his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath beneath your touch. "but," you say, tilting your head up just enough so your lips graze his jaw, "you'll have to be patient."

heeseung groans softly, his head dipping forward until his forehead rests against yours, his breath warm and uneven. "you’re killing me," he mutters, though there's a hint of amusement in his tone, like he's enjoying this playful back-and-forth as much as you are.

"patience," you repeat, your fingers tracing slow, deliberate lines down his chest, your touch light enough to drive him crazy.

heeseung chuckles, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth, his voice thick with both amusement and frustration. "you’re really gonna make me wait?"

looking up at him through your lashes, the smile on your lips is playful but knowing. "i think it'll be worth it," you say, your voice teasing, and you lean up to press a soft, lingering kiss to his mouth

his lips press back against yours, but before he can deepen the kiss, you pull away, your smile widening at the quiet groan of protest he makes. heeseung’s hands tighten on your waist, and his eyes meet yours with a mix of desire and amusement, like he knows exactly what you're doing, and he's more than willing to play along.

you tilt your head slowly, a playful smile tugging at your lips. before heeseung can even register what's happening, you drop to your knees, the cool bathroom floor sending a brief shiver through you. when you look up at him, his breath catches, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly.

his hands, which had been resting on the counter behind you, grip the edge tightly now, knuckles white with tension. his gaze locks with yours, dark and full of surprise, anticipation, and something deeper. you can see the way his chest rises and falls, his breath coming faster as the realisation of your bold move settles in.

"y/n." heeseung breathes out, his voice rough, like he's struggling to keep control. his eyes flicker between your face and the space between you, his hands twitching as if unsure of whether to stop you or let you continue. but his body betrays him — he's frozen in place, caught between disbelief and desire.

you bite your lip, leaning closer, your fingers lightly grazing the fabric of his jeans. "shh," you whisper, your eyes never leaving his. the power shift between you both is palpable, the air between you charged with intensity.

you can see the effect you're having on him-the way his breath hitches, his muscles tensing under your touch, the raw hunger in his gaze as he watches your every move.

for a moment, you both just stay there, the silence in the small bathroom heavy and thick with expectancy. heeseung’s jaw clenches, his hands still gripping the counter as he lets out a shaky breath. his lips part as if to speak, but no words come out, just another sharp inhale as he watches you, eyes hooded and dark with want.

but instead of taking things further, you pull back just slightly, your teasing smile widening. "still want me to keep going?" you ask, your voice soft but dripping with playful intent, leaving him on the edge of anticipation.

heeseung’s grip loosens for a moment, and he lets out a low, breathless chuckle, his voice hoarse. "you’re really not playing fair, are you?"

you wink at him and moisturise your lips. a feel of rage and desire rushes to heeseung’s limbs as you free his now hard dick. your hands wrap around the base of his dick and you stroke him with a rotating motion. a small gasp escapes your boyfriend’s lips as a zap of pleasure shoots down his spine.

heeseung’s fingers sink into you hair, gathering it in a ponytail, and then yanking you back not so smoothly. you look back at him, eyelashes batting and lips forming a pout. “let me have a taste, please.”

and who is heeseung to say no to you? he stares at you as you slide his length into your hot, wet mouth, the tip of him disappearing past your lips as you continue pumping him at the base slowly, your grip tightening gradually.

your movements are slow, teasing and sensual. you peek up at your boyfriend through your lashes the whole time, watching his reactions, relishing in each moan and hiss — loving the effect you have on him.

suddenly, heeseung tugs you away gently, his fingers tangled in the makeshift ponytail he created, his eyes dark but steady as they meet yours. his lips curl into a teasing smirk as he watches you spread his precum across your lips. his thumb lightly brushes your bottom lip, and his breath hitches for a moment.

"why did you stop me?" you ask, your voice soft but with a hint of frustration, groaning slightly at the abrupt interruption.

his grip tightens ever so slightly around your arms as he pulls you up to stand, his expression shifting from playful to something more serious, yet still burning with desire.

“we’re leaving the party now, get up.” he says firmly, voice low and commanding.

you frown at first, confused by the sudden shift, but before you can question him, he's already pulling you closer, his hands gripping your elbows as he makes sure you're steady on your feet. his eyes soften as he sees your confused, slightly hurt expression, and his lips press a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“no, no, baby. i loved it, i love you” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin, “ but we’re doing things my way now. let’s go home.”

a playful smile spreads across your face, and you nod, understanding the promise behind his words. "as long as you wear the hat while fucking me, i’ll go anywhere you want," you tease, your voice playful but full of anticipation.

heeseung chuckles, adjusting the cowboy hat still perched on his head “you really love this costume, don’t you?”

“you know what they say, save a horse… ride a cowboy…” you say in a sing-song voice, winking as you turn around and open the bathroom door to step out.

behind you, heeseung’s deep, booming laughter echoes down the hallway, and you feel his presence close behind as he follows you out. there’s a glint in his eyes, and you can feel the shift in the air, the promise of what's to come.

as you step back into the party, the noise and music barely register. all that's on your mind is heeseung, and judging by the heated look in his eyes, the feeling is mutual. there’s only one thing on his mind as he watches you saunter ahead — tonight, a lot of riding will be involved.

after all, he thinks with a smirk, a lot of horses need saving.

[backwardsbread]

Hazbin Hotel Characters:

Forgetting an anniversary

A/N: This is my first time doing anything like this, so if anybody wants to see more, feel free to ask! The Hazbin brain rot is real—

Warnings‼️: Established relationship, character x reader, fluff, but also some angst?, swearing, gender neutral!reader, mentions of alcohol.

Not really proofread

I didn’t mean to write that much for Alastor but here we are—

Lucifer:

To be fair this guy is the literal KING of hell, (the devil from, THE BIBLE) so to say he’s a busy man is an understatement.

This dude is also MAD depressed making him constantly disassociate, so he’s prone for losing track of what day it is.

You kind of figure he’s forgotten the day is coming up when he’s not hyperfixated on it.

For birthdays, planned dates, special occasions, this man usually goes ALL out.

He tries to keep what he has planned secret, but he’s usually bouncing off the walls the days before, and ends up letting his plans slip.

So when he’s not talking your ear off the day before your anniversary, you suspect the date might’ve slipped his mind.

When the day of your anniversary comes along and you’re not woken up with kisses and cuddles, possibly breakfast in bed, you KNOW your partner has forgotten.

However, you don’t tell him or remind him of the date. Since your partner had a busy day ahead, you didn’t want to force him to focus on you when there much more important things to be settled.

You kind of wallow in your own self pity, while you wait for Lucifer to return to the castle.

Lucifer had plenty of things scheduled for the day, but he can’t shake the feeling that he IS forgetting something.

(And he is)

He checks his schedule, triple checks he didn’t miss any meetings, makes sure he has his lucky duck in his suit pocket.

All seems well. But he still can’t shake the feeling that he’s forgetting something.

It’s not until he gets home later in the evening and SEES you, that he remembers the date.

This man is ON HIS KNEES, profusely apologizing to you. The king of hell is practically begging for your forgiveness.

“Why didn’t you tell me?? You’re more important than some stupid meetings! I’m so sorry, I won’t let this happen again.”

Despite if you say it’s alright, he calls off anything he has scheduled for the next week. Treating you to the prettiest and fanciest places every inch of the pride ring has to offer.

This man usually goes all out for your guys’ dates and such, but this is extravagant. He’s treating you like the royalty you are to hopefully become. (If he ever gets the gall to ask you-)

Vox:

Similar to Lucifer, but even worse in the sense of his schedule is ALWAYS booked. It’s not easy being the face of all tech in the Pride Ring.

This man gets ZERO days off, working 8-12 hour days depending on what’s going on.

He’s got meetings, interviews, paperwork, you name it. This man might as well be the living embodiment of stress.

The thing he usually looks forward to is going home to you. Finally being able to relax and rant about his day.

(Finally able to stop his fake ass smile that’s usually imprinted on his face)

So when he gets home to find you already in bed, fast asleep when you usually would stay up and wait for him, he’s a little peeved.

He tries to be understanding, not really knowing what you might’ve done in the day. Perhaps it could’ve exhausted you. Or maybe you were feeling under the weather.

He then almost throws a full blown hissy fit when he sees blanket and pillow on the couch

A silent demand from you that he is to sleep there for the night.

His screen glitches in silent rage, as he grumbles to himself about how childish you were being for no apparent reason.

The two of you had obviously gotten into fights/arguments, mostly about his work schedule.

But it was rare that those arguments wouldn’t end in the two of you talking it out and ending the night in a cuddle session to make it up to each other.

(Vox refuses to really apologize for his work, his pride won’t let him apologize for something he doesn’t think he did wrong.)

Vox kind of accepts your demand, not wanting to piss you off more. You could talk about it with him tomorrow.

Vox wakes up early the day after your anniversary, going to work as usual. Velvette is getting him in ready in a new suit she designed. While she’s getting him ready she asks;

“So how was your night? Did you have anything planned?”

“Uhh.. what? Planned for what?”

“Wasn’t yesterday your anniversary?”

“….Fuuu-huh-huuuck”

He ditches his morning broadcast, instead heading towards his monitor room. When he sees you’re awake, and on your phone, he makes his face appear on the small screen.

Which scares the shit out of you— he usually gave some sort of warning when he was going to just appear on your device.

By the look on his face, you can tell he now knows the reason you made him sleep on the couch. You give him a look in return, waiting for his excuse.

And just by the look on your face, he can tell you’re not willing to hear any bullshit he has to spit about his work being a priority.

His screen glitches in a slight panic, as he’s sort of loss for words at first. He could tell you were angry, and he knew only he was responsible for causing that.

To your surprise, he actually apologizes, saying how there was no excuse for his absence and your guys’ special day.

He reassures you it won’t happen again, telling you how he still loves you. He has you pick any place of your choice for the two of you to go to dinner tonight.

(He hacks into the system to be put on the reservation list)

Anything to somewhat make it up to one of the only souls that truly understands him in this miserable afterlife.

Alastor:

He’s not as busy of a man as Vox or Lucifer, but he’s not very big on celebrations like birthdays or anniversaries.

You’re his and he is yours, you both don’t need to prove that to anyone.

But…..it would feel nice to at least acknowledge the stepping stones in your guys’ relationship.

Alastor doesn’t really understand the hints you drop when mentioning your guys’ anniversary.

He definitely knows the date is coming, but once the day arrives, he treats it like it’s just any other day.

He notices your mood is less cheery than any normal day, but doesn’t connect the dots that it’s because of HIS behavior.

(What could he have POSSIBLY done wrong??)

He instead tries to cheer you up by poking fun at you the entire day. Calling you little names like “grouch, stick in the mud, drag”.

Insisting that you wipe that frown off your face and replace it with a similar smile to his own permanent one.

He unknowingly rocks the boat with his behavior, only making your mood turn more sour.

Before he can even continue his banter for the last half of the day, you’re ignoring him. Not giving any excuse to him either, you’re just walking away from him.

He makes fun of your bitter mood? You didn’t hear it.

He asks you a question? Your conversation with Charlie is more important.

He tries to hold your hand or embrace you? You suddenly have something totally necessary to get done on the opposite side of the hotel.

You are determined to push all of his buttons just as he had unknowingly done to you.

And this absolutely gets under his skin.

Alastor is one for control, he needs to know everything, he needs to be in charge of situations. Why you were being so stubborn, this man is CLUELESS. And that irritates him to no end.

Tensions are high in the hotel, with a very grumpy radio demon and his other half who refuses to sooth his anger.

Night falls on Hell painfully slow, as you just want this whole day to disappear and never return. You sit at the bar, swirling around the liquid in your glass.

Husk knew better than to pry at you and your annoyance towards your significant other. He instead kept your glass filled, and offered you a soft smile.

You’re slightly buzzed when your source of annoyance sits in the bar stool right next to you. You feel Alastor’s gaze on you, but you keep your eyes on your drink.

You feel static prick at your skin, making the hair on your arms rise from the chill. You hear the crackle of a very peeved radio demon sitting beside you.

Who did you think you were?? Ignoring someone like him! You were his lover and you were treating him like he meant nothing to you.

(At least that’s what it felt like)

The overlord beside you finally snaps, his voice toned heavily with radio static, his eyes darkening with dial pupils.

“What is with this behavior, 𝙈̳̎𝙮̳̎ 𝙙̳̎𝙚̳̎𝙖̳̎𝙧̳̎? What could possibly be your excuse for such immature actions towards me?”

Maybe it’s because you’re slightly buzzed from one too many drinks, maybe your emotions had been building up way too quickly from your irritation, maybe you felt guilty for treating your S/O like spoiled leftovers all day.

But as you look towards Alastor, observing his anger, your eyes suddenly well up with big crocodile tears, threatening to spill if you even dare to blink.

Alastor notices your expression soften and watches some unwanted tears slip down your face. There’s literally a record scratch as he just watches you desperately try and hide your face from him.

His eyes soften back to their normal red hue and he feels his harsh smile crack at the edges.

(If he could frown, he absolutely would seeing as you were so hurt by his actions.)

He’s quick to comfort you, pulling you in and whispering comforting words. Shooting a glare at Husk to leave the two of you alone and to not speak a word of this to anybody.

The two of you talk out your feelings about the day. You admit how you felt a bit abandoned by his lack of acknowledgement for the date.

He promises to you that for your next anniversary, because he knows you will always be his, he will make sure to make you feel as special as you truly are to him.

[loveshotzz]

bartender!eddie x fem!reader Eddie’s night.

🎵my man gives real love that’s why I call him killer, he’s not a ‘wham! bam! thank you ma’am!’ he’s a thriller.🎵

summary: After being stood up on a blind date, the cute bartender you’ve been ‘trying’ not to flirt with keeps you company.

word count: 12.6k

warnings: 90’s AU / 18 + no minors! /eddie is in his early 30’s, fingering, oral (f receiving), semi public smut (p in v), cream pie, dirty talk.

authors note: my love letter to the 90’s 💕after one month of brain storming and three weeks of writing here’s part one of Whatta Man! Eddie’s night. (This is a singular one shot. Steve’s night is part two, can you find the easter eggs for his night 😉)Thank you to my very talented friends who always brain storm with me and share ideas. This fun lil AU wouldn’t have happened with you. ily 💗 edit by @eddiemunsons-missingnipple

You didn’t want to go on this date. Not when your roommate set you up, and you certainly didn’t want to go when he picked The Foxy Lounge. But when Weather Man Mike predicted the first warm day after three months of bitter winter you’d take any excuse to wear your favorite dress. 

You’d been here before, always stumbling in after a night out with friends because they were the only 4am place in town. Those late nights turned to early mornings were more of a thing of the past now so when you got to the familiar chipped red door you didn’t recognize the bouncer standing outside. He has a head of honey colored hair that’s just long enough to run his fingers through. His toned frame sits pretty wrapped in a tight black tee and long legs covered in dark wash jeans tight enough for you to really have to focus on keeping  your eyes on his face. A freckle covered neck leads to a strong jaw and a chiseled nose. Leaning against the brick wall with his boots crossed at the ankles a toothpick twirls between his straight teeth.

The platform of your sneakers hitting the pavement as you come to a stop and the jingle of your power beads alerts him of your presence, hazel eyes going round like the moon in the sky. Straightening his posture he snatches the tooth pick out of his mouth, stuffing it in his back pocket. You swear you see a Tamagotchi tucked away as he clears his throat with a puff of his chest.

“I.D.?” 

Your lips twitch, the forced deep baritone in his voice isn’t fooling you, and you wonder if it fooled anyone when the signature beep of a Tomogatchi pet needing to be fed goes off in his back pocket. He coughs to try to cover the noise while you quickly pull what he needs out of your cross body. Holding it out for him to examine you look up with a glossed smile matching the one in the picture. Narrowing his eyes, you catch a glimmer of playfulness when he clicks on his flashlight. 

Examining it like it could be a fake, you bite back a giggle while he turns it around giving it one more once over before handing it back to you with a soft chuckle.

“Funny, we have the same birthday.” His voice comes out normal this time, soft and friendly just like you thought.

“Twins!”

A genuine smile lights up his face like the sign above your head, his boyish features coming out despite the stubble on his chin.

“Might as well call us the Olsen’s.” Throwing you a wink he pulls the gold handle to open the door for you. The sounds of Return of the Mack break through the hums of the street behind you. “Have fun tonight honey, be safe. If anyone bothers you, just come grab me okay? I’m steve.”

Your cheeks heat up at the endearment and you have to remind yourself that you’re here for a date. You catch a hint of his cologne when your shoulder brushes against his chest on your way in, the expensive scent making you dizzy when it hits your senses.

“I will, thanks Steve,”your words are shy when they come out, making his lips twitch in response. Nodding his head, you catch the tinge of pink on his skin before he closes the door with a small wave.

It's even louder inside with the drunk conversations battling for dominance against the music. Tugging nervously at the bottom of your dress you look around the bar for the vague description of this guy Craig your friend gave you. 

You scan the crowd a few times before your eyes catch the big brown ones of the bartender. The stool in front of him freeing itself at the same time your eyes connect, the corners of his plush lips pull up as he beckons you over with two heavily ringed fingers. The unruly dark auburn curls that hit just below his shoulders catch the low light behind the bar, the yellow glow softening up all his edges. 

Rocking back on your heels you pull the strap of your cross body closer, doing your best to collect yourself before you push through the crowd accepting his invitation. His smile widens, pulling up his stubble covered cheeks to reveal a set of perfect white teeth to you. The one you give him in return comes out a little shy as you plop down on the ripped vinyl that matches the red of the door.

Ink litters his arms disappearing under the frayed ends of his sleeves letting you know there was more under the tight fit of his worn faded black Metallica shirt. The two rips near the collar give you a glimpse of the chain wrapped around his neck. The scruff lining his jaw adds a few years from afar but from this close he looks your age. The silver hoop in his nose catches against the bright lighting under the bar like the rings adoring his fingers. Pulling out two empty shot glasses with a twirl he quickly fills them up with Jameson.

“This one’s on the house sweetheat, it’ll help make your date cuter.”  He winks with a sly grin, your stomach flutters with his full attention on you like this.

The glass is heavy in your grasp as you stare at the dark liquid with a faint grimace. His low chuckle catches your attention before the pop and hiss of the soda fills your ears. As if reading your mind he slides over a coke, letting you keep your pride by not having to ask for a chaser.

“How do you know I’m here for a date?” Raising a questioning brow, the sides of your lips twitch as you struggle to hold a straight face. “A girl can’t come to the bar alone on a Friday night?”

The chocolate in his eyes lights up at your playful banter, slinging a white towel over his shoulder he leans in, forearms pressing hard against the counter as he invades your space. The spice of his cologne and the burn of cigarette smoke joins with him and you find yourself sucking your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Are you telling me you’re available then?” Dropping his voice low enough to feel between your legs, you wished more than anything you had a different answer to give him.

The heaviness of his gaze has your cheeks warming, the intensity of the eye contact forcing your gaze away for a second as you clear your throat. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear you muster enough courage to meet his eyes again. 

“N-no unfortunately, you were right.” Exaggerating a heavy sigh, his confident demeanor never wavers despite his confirmed suspicions.

“Unfortunately is right, huh?” Winking, he pushes back leaving only the lingering scent of his cologne raising his shot in an offering of cheers. “To what could have been, baby.” 

A giggle bubbles past your lips when his fingers brush against yours meeting in the middle with a clink. Downing his shot like a professional, he’s left to watch the way you struggle with yours. Amusement is evident on his face while he watches the way your throat stays unwilling to open. Holding the alcohol in your mouth longer than anyone would want, it finally gives in letting the bitter liquid go down with a bite. Pushing the can of coke towards you with his knuckles, his laugh booms loud from his chest as you search for reprieve in the sweetness with desperation.

Chugging with abandon, you forget your surroundings for a second before your eyes meet his over the rim of the can and it’s almost enough to have you snort the rest of it all over yourself. 

Coming up for air you grumble a half assed “shut up” doing your best to try and fight the smile begging to spread across your lips as you wipe them with the back of your hand.

“Not a whiskey girl I take it?” Punctuating the ‘t’ harder than normal, his teasing falls on deaf ears when you get distracted at the way his thick fingers wrap around the shot glasses.

“Not a shot girl in general, I’d rather not taste the alcohol if I can help it.” Shrugging, you trace invisible patterns on the sticky quartz of the bar top with french tipped nails silently reminding yourself for the second time tonight you’re here for a date.

“So how’d you two meet?” He raises his voice so it comes out sickly sweet while a shaker and a lemon appears in his hands. Setting them down on top of the worn jagermeister logo that covers the drink mat he starts rolling the fruit against his palm.

“We haven’t met yet actually, a friend set us up.” 

Eddie’s movements freeze for a second, eyebrows furrowing together in a look of confusion as if that was the craziest thing that anyone had ever told him. He grabs the bottle of simple syrup adding more to what looked like it was going to be a sweet drink before he answers.

“Someone like you shouldn’t need to be set up, sweetheart.” He looks up at you from under the hood of his lashes quickly picking up on the effect he has on you.

He twirls another empty glass onto the counter top before he smashes the lid of the shaker on, not giving you a chance to respond he starts shaking it louder than you know is necessary. The bats tattooed on his arm dance across the muscles with the flex of every flick of his wrist.

“Really? Laying it on thick, huh?” Raising your voice enough to know he could hear you, he taunts you by cupping his free hand over his ear to make a show of pretending he can’t, mouthing a ‘sorry’ with a smirk. The laugh he earns from when he finally relents is the prettiest sound he thinks he’s ever heard. 

“Well I hope this ‘friend’ has a good vetting process. No less than three interviews or no dice.” He pours your drink with panache, like he’s putting on a show for you, like you’re sure he does with all the other girls.

Grabbing a straw he plugs one end with his index finger before he dips it into the slightly lighter liquid. The heat between your legs becomes almost unbearable when his lips wrap around the end tasting his creation with a low groan, his pink tongue pokes out to collect the sweetness left behind.

“I think, I think you’re gonna like this one. It’s an Eddie Munson original, I’m calling it "Wasting Love.” The roll of your eyes makes him bark out another laugh. The signs of the smoke you smell on him are more noticeable in this one’s rumble.

“I wonder what could have inspired it?” Biting your lip to hide your smile, you knew you shouldn’t be flirting with him while you waited for Craig, but you can’t help yourself. Besides, he was already ten minutes late.

“I think you know what inspired it sweetheart, I can tell you’re not just some pretty face.” Dimples poking through his cheeks, he finally takes notice of the glares from the customers filling up the bar. Everyone’s patience starting to wear thin while they waited for whatever this was to be over. 

“I gotta stop ignoring all the other people in here real quick, but I’ll be back for your review.” He throws you another wink and it has you shifting in your seat as he starts to walk away.

“Wait! I never opened a tab!” Calling after him as you reach for your purse, he tuts loudly, turning around to face you, continuing his path walking backwards. 

“You shouldn’t be paying for a thing tonight, gorgeous.” He waves his hand dismissively before his back is to you again giving his undivided attention to the bearded man who looked ready to murder the carefree metal head if he didn’t get his Bud Light in the next five seconds.

Trying not to get too caught up in someone that wasn’t your date you timidly bring the straw to your lips. Humming appreciatively when the sweetness hits your tastebuds you’re pleasantly surprised at how much you actually like it. Feeling bold enough to take a bigger gulp, you look around for Craig again. So lost in the little bubble you had been in with Eddie you didn’t realize how much more the bar had filled up since you arrived. A new kind of rowdy energy in the air — the low murmurs of conversation get loud enough to drown out Semi- Charmed Kinda Life.

Glancing down at your pink swatch watch, your date was now twenty minutes late. Turning around to check and make sure the lavender cross body you told him to look for was visible, you crane your neck around looking one last time. It’s easy to shrug off the sinking feeling of rejection when you turn back around to watch Eddie in his natural habitat. 

He moves behind the bar like he’s been doing it his whole life, like everything was muscle memory.  As if he could feel you staring he catches your gaze throwing you a smirk before he tosses a bottle of tequila in the air catching it with ease. Pouring it into four lined up shot glasses, the group of girls in front of him celebrating what looked like a bachelorette party with all their multi-colored hats and boas squealed with drunk delight. Your eyes hit the back of your skull in a hard roll when one of them bats their eyelashes at him with a hand on his arm.

Sucking down the rest of your drink, the slurping once you hit the ice is loud enough to annoy the guy next to you who shoots you a warning look over his shoulder. Mouthing an apology you push your empty glass away looking around the bar one more time. The guilt of flirting with Eddie starts to disappear when you look at your watch again and start coming to terms you were actually being stood up. Searching for his doe eyes again, your heart sinks when you find him this time.

Dimples in his cheeks again, he’s practically beaming at her. Their body language telling you this isn’t their first time meeting and how animated he is when he talks to her is like he’s known her for years. Gesturing wildly with his hands while she nods enthusiastically, something he says has her throwing her head back with a laugh loud enough you can hear it over the music. You huff through your nose, the sting of rejection sneaking its way back in. The reminder that he was just doing his job and you were here for a date, one that never showed up, slaps you right in the face.

Averting your gaze to spare whatever confidence you have left, your eyes find the bouncer at the front door. Inside the bar now with a hard glare set on his handsome face. His arms sit folded across his broad chest while his jaw clenches at the same time as the muscles in his shoulders flex. Steve looks pissed.

Interest piqued, you follow his line of sight despite it going in the direction of the bar you were trying to avoid. Somehow not surprised when your eyes land on her again, you notice Eddie has already busied himself with someone else. With his back towards both of you he fills two pints with Blue Moon, the uncomfortable look on her face couldn’t be missed. The greasy blonde hair on the man that was clearly invading her personal space told you he’d been drinking all day. The grimace on her pretty face says she could smell it on his breath too.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end when you see him grab onto her arm while trying to whisper in her ear. You feel yourself ready to stand up and help when she pushes him away, with the way the veins in her neck were flexing whatever she was saying to him wasn't nice. Shoving her hand in his face she storms towards the front door where Steve is waiting, looking seconds away from killing the man who followed her path out of the bar with a leer.

The scowl on her face softens instantly when she’s met with Steve opening the door, the glare on his face being replaced with a deep flush when you catch a “Thanks, Stevie” fall appreciatively from her lips.

SMACK

Jumping at the sound of metal hitting wood, Eddie’s dimples show themselves only this time they are for you as he leans forward on his arms again, eyes flicking towards the spot next to you. He pulls himself even closer when he notices no one new occupying the stool, making you search for friction with the fat of your thighs. 

“Penny for your thoughts, beautiful?” Flashing you his perfect teeth for the second time tonight the bruise to your ego already starts to disappear.

“I drank it without gagging, didn’t I?” Crossing your arms on top of the bar it's your turn to lean into his space and you swear you hear his breath hitch at your new boldness.

Licking his lips, your eyes greedily follow the path of his tongue. His smile stretches across his face even more when he notices, making no effort to move- unwilling to back down from the silent standoff you’ve challenged him too.

“‘I’ll have you know I take that as a very high compliment coming from you.” His breath fans across your cheeks from this close, mint and whiskey hitting your nose when he huffs a laugh. “Where’s Prince Charming?”

“Turns out there was no Prince, just an ugly old toad.” Tugging your bottom lip between your teeth, you look up at him through half lidded eyes, “Good thing I didn’t kiss him, huh?”

A low rumble shakes in his chest as he dares to lean in even closer, the tips of your noses almost brushing while the bubble you’d lost yourselves in reappears.

“Yeah baby, you can’t give those out to just anybody, they gotta be for someone special.” His voice is low, dripping with the kind of want you’d never had directed at you before. His eyes take in every inch of your face from this close while you try to keep up with his smooth tongue.

“Got anyone in mind, Eddie?” Doing your best to match his tone, his brows pinch together at the way his name sounds coming out of your mouth taking one last look at your lips before meeting your eyes again.

“Yeah, I know a guy actually. He’s a bartender with a great head of hair.” Wiggling his eyebrows when you snort, the front door swings open, breaking you two apart as the girl from before commands the room like a record scratch, silencing the bar for the first time all night.

“Eddie! It’s bad, Steve needs you!” The sheer panic in her voice is enough for the jealous monster inside you to stay at bay as Eddie pushes back on his heels.

An irritated sigh escapes him while he mutters ‘not a-fucking-gain’ under his breath, pinching the bridge of his nose before his eyes find yours. You jump a little when he grabs your hands, the warmth of his palms enveloping yours while he gives you a pleading look.

“Don’t - I mean, please don’t go anywhere. I’ll be back, I need to go save my buddy’s ass again. But I promise I’ll be right back, this conversation is too important to leave unfinished.” He flashes you that million dollar smile like chaos isn’t ensuing outside and all you can do is nod, signaling that you’ll stay put.

Hopping over the bar his loose fitting combat boots squeak over the counter top, the black jeans that were hidden from your sight somehow fit him even better than his shirt. Your gaze is shamelessly hungry as it follows him until he’s out the door. The scuffle outside leaking through the music with a blur of bodies outside. 

Too focused on the glimpse of Eddie’s towering frame stepping between the two guys to break up the fight, you don’t notice the person who walks through the unattended door until it shuts behind him with a thud. Ready to glare at whoever it is your eyes widen when you meet the ones belonging to who you can only assume is Craig. The burnt auburn hair he sports and the way he zero’s in on your purse confirms your suspicions. This was Craig, you're incredibly late and not even remotely as attractive as the bartender, date.

“Shit, shit, shit.” No matter how quickly you averted your stare, you knew it was too late, he saw you. Panic sets in while your brain goes a mile a minute trying to think a way out of this.

Looking around the bar for some sort of escape, the thought of ducking into the bathroom sounds like a winner but then the image of Eddie coming back and seeing you gone seeps into the forefront of your mind making you quickly toss that idea out the window. Turning to the people on either side of you who are too lost in their own conversations to notice your dilemma, you try to decide which one you could interrupt the most naturally. 

The couple on your right looks like they’re on a date going really well and the one on your left seems like two friends catching up. The tap on your shoulder is enough for you to make a split second decision, clearing your throat you spare the newly blossoming romance next you from your desperate antics, choosing to interrupt the friends who are reconnecting with a loud fake laugh.

“That’s when she told me- um excuse me do I know you?” Gruff and confused, the man closest to you looks at you as if you’ve grown two heads. First your loud slurping and now this? This plan was never going to work from the get-go.

Another persistent tap on your shoulder has you grasping for straws. You open your mouth to try to sell whatever this was one last time. 

“Umm excuse me?”  Craig’s voice comes out loud enough to cut you off and for the poor guy next to you to give you the final cold shoulder. Unable to ignore him any longer, you force yourself to turn around and face him head on. Kind of. 

Channeling your inner Alicia Silverstone you try to give him the best Clueless look you can muster and he returns it with an even more confused expression, clearing his throat.

“Hey, sorry I’m late. I’m Craig, Ariana’s friend. I think I’m supposed to be meeting you?” Shoving his hands in the pockets of his tan slacks, the maroon sweater he wears fits loosely over his thin frame, dirty black chucks on his feet, his look screams ‘I listen to Nirvana’.

“Umm, I think you have the wrong person? I wasn’t supposed to be meeting anyone here tonight.” It’s not believable in the slightest when the words leave your mouth, your less than confident delivery giving you away. The look on his face lets you know you’ve definitely been made

“Are you sure? I was told to look for the girl with a lavender purse.”  As if to prove his point he points to the exact one he’s talking about slung across your shoulder. He scoffs when you keep up with your charade, “I know I’m late but this is ridiculous.”

“A lot of girls have purple bags, Craig.” His name comes out dripping in venom, the need to get rid of him before Eddie’s return throwing any logic out the window. You needed to believe your own lie.

The sudden harshness has him raising his hands in defense, backing down a little under the daggers of your glare.

“Whoa, chill out, my bad. You just match the exact description I was given, that's all.”

Clenching your jaw in frustration because he just won’t give up, you try to hold your composure while your eyes flick towards the door in anticipation for his return.

“Well you’ve told me you were late twice already so she probably just left. Rude of you to keep her waiting honestly.” Narrowing your eyes at him, you know that he’s aware of exactly what you are doing but you don’t care anymore.

“Yeah, I’m sure that’s what happened, and not her being bitter I’m one measly hour late.” The way his words clip signal the rejection sinking in, a glare setting firm on his face.

It’s the stare down of the century before Eddie comes barging through the entrance with a loud huff and a clap of his hands. Cheeks red from yelling and hair slightly more wild than before. He checks to make sure you’re still exactly where he left you before he glances over to Craig for a split second not registering who he is. Hopping over the bar with another skid of his boots, he still manages to give you a lopsided grin when he gets to the other side. Hitting the top of the bar in a series of beats - he’s a ball of energy.

“Sorry to keep you waiting sweetheart, Steve’s lucky the girl he took a knuckle sandwich for has a first aid kit. Rick keeps saying he’s gonna get one but I have yet to see it. Want another cocktail?” Talking a mile a minute with the leftover adrenaline from the fight, he still doesn’t notice the way Craig watches the two of you until he catches how awkward you’re being. Eddie’s face hardens, the softness he was giving you disappearing. “Something I can help you with buddy?”

You don’t even have to look at Craig to know he’s puffing out his chest with a point of his chin addressing Eddie.

“Actually pal, maybe you can.” His tone makes Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up, a tested smile spreading over his lips while he lets Craig continue. “I was supposed to meet someone here for a blind date, I was told to look for a girl with a lavender purse exactly like this one. You haven't seen another girl with this exact same bag have you?” 

Eddie’s wide eyes meet yours, amusement filling the specks of golden brown as he picks up on exactly what’s happening. The corners of his lips twitch before he nods his head licking his bottom lip holding your gaze long enough to make you squirm before bringing his attention back to Craig with a low whistle.

“Oh yeah, I remember that hottie, man. It’s a shame you were late, she took off with this dude she met waiting for you. She didn’t stand a chance, though, honestly. I know the guy, he’s too smooth for his own good. Pretty good looking too. Can’t be leaving your girl unattended around him. Probably wouldn’t have worked out between you two anyway.” Eddie catches the roll of your eyes at his self indulgent story as you cover your mouth with the palm of your hand to hide your face splitting grin.

“Why don’t you walk away with some dignity. What’s that saying? There’s always more fish in the sea or some shit.” Eddie adds more salt to the wound, finally breaking Craig enough to give up.

“Whatever you say man, this bar is fuckin’ lame anyway. Who wants to drink to Third Eye Blind.” Grumbling his insults as he slinks away, he takes one last look at you and Eddie before his final exit with a flip of his middle finger.

Eddie’s stare is hot on your face, while you bashfully avoid his gaze keeping your eyes lingering on the door. When you finally dare to meet his eyes the shit eating grin on his face makes you groan, the buzz of your drink pulling a giggle out of you. 

“Eddie, don’t —“

“Well, well, aren’t you just a little heartbreaker, huh?” His teasing only makes your cheeks grow hotter as you try to hide your face from his view.

“Don’t you need to go attend to all the customers you left?” Your words come out muffled from behind your hands as you slowly pull them down just enough to uncover the fake glare you were sending his way.

“I’ve got my favorite one right here.” Voice dropping low with a smirk, he was right, you didn’t stand a chance.

“I haven’t paid for a single thing, you refused my money if you remember.” Bringing your hands down to fully come out of hiding, he bites his bottom lip when he can take in your features again.

“It’s no good here, baby, I could actually get arrested if I take it and then how would I be able to take you out to get pancakes after my shift if I’m behind bars?” Bringing his hands together in mock shackles and a pout, the chain wrapped around his wrist catches your eyes for the first time.

“You’re takin’ me to get pancakes?” Flirting like a love sick teenager, you even start to kick your feet under the bar.

“It’s the least I can do since you’re my fill in bouncer for the rest of the night.” Smirking, he nods his head to the man at the opposite end of the bar flagging him down with a twenty dollar bill. His eyes sparkling with something new now that he had you.

“Me? A Bouncer? I’m not intimidating in the slightest!” Your cheeks hurt from how hard you smile at his retreating form, the game of ‘playing hard to get’ becoming a thing of the past now.

“Sorry, you owe me, heartbreaker.” He shrugs like it’s out of his control before flashing you the same lopsided grin leaving you a mess of nerves from getting to spend the night with him.

The hours till close go by faster than you anticipate with Eddie topping off your drink any time you ask, the buzz from the alcohol is just enough to handle the growing intensity of his flirting. Now that the only obstacle in the way of each other was time, he was relentless.

Enjoying the game of chicken the two of you had started unconsciously playing, you stop noticing the clock. Every six customers earns you five —sometimes ten minutes of his time and he makes sure to use every second of those breaks as an excuse to lean in close, whispering in your ear, holding your face close every time you talk. He was getting off on the way he could make you shift in your seat and hide your bottom lip between your teeth when he got close enough for his lips to brush against your ear. Your fingers find excuses to wrap around his wrist when he invades your space, playing with his chain, you keep him close making sure to tilt your head just enough for him to catch a glimpse down your neck into the low cut of your dress.

The small hand on the clock above the door hits the three and it’s not until his breaks start getting longer and your touches are able to get a little bolder that you notice the murmur of voices over the music disappears. The few stranglers left sipping their last drinks of the evening are paying the two of you no mind despite the way he’s tucking your hair out of his way to trace the shell of your ear with the tip of his nose.

The realization that you’re finally about to be alone with him brings your nerves to a head and the need to check yourself over in the bathroom mirror becomes urgent. The flick of his tongue along your earlobe distracts you for a second as your head nudges against his when it tickles making a giggle slip past your lips.

“I gotta go to the bathroom, Eddie.” You inhale the scent of pine lingering in his shampoo, giving him one last nudge with your nose before hopping off the stool. He gives you his best puppy eyes as you get up to leave, pushing out his bottom lip when you tug your dress down.

“Please, I’ll be like three minutes.” You roll your eyes at him but the smile that lights up your face tells him you’re eating it up.

“I’ll be counting every second you're gone, baby.” Holding his hands over his heart for dramatic effect the man at the end of the bar snorts loudly ruining the moment. He earns an annoyed glare from the bartender, “Better hurry up and finish that shit old man, it’s closing time.” 

You hear him grunt in response to Eddie’s rude reminder before disappearing into the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom. Stickers and writing with permanent marker cover every inch of the dark crimson walls. The doors of the black stalls barely hang from their hinges, dents from many reckless drunk nights at The Foxy Lounge punch random spots into the metal. The bottom of your sneakers stick to the floor with every step to the mirror where more stickers and black scribbles line the surface including a girl named Leigh’s phone number with the note ‘for a good time call’ attached at the end leaving just enough room to see your face.

The space buns on top of your head are messy from Eddie nuzzling his beard into your hair all night. You try to salvage what was left of them by tightening the knots a little more before deciding it's a lost cause. He was probably just going to mess them up more anyway. The thought of Eddie’s hands being free to touch you in every way you’ve wanted all night has you taking a deep breath while you hold your own eyes in the mirror.

“It’s happening, you’re gonna have sex with him. You’re gonna fuck the super hot bartender who flirts like it’s his second language tonight and you’re gonna be confident about it okay? You hear me?” Pointing to yourself in the mirror, the determination in your stare is enough for your tipsy pep talk to work its magic.

Taking one last look at yourself with a nod of your head you pull open the bathroom door ready to take on the rest of the night. Only to stop in your tracks when you notice the stool that was occupied is now empty and every inch of Eddie is also in full view from where he stands in front of the jukebox. Your eyes are insatiable taking in his tall frame like this for the first time all night. 

You notice the giant chain that hangs from his belt loop this time, and there’s even more rips in his jeans than before giving you a peek at the pale skin hidden underneath. His shoulder blades move under the thin fabric of his shirt when he clicks his choice on the machine. Kiss Me by Sixpence None The Richer spills out from the speakers of the bar as he turns on his heels, the smirk that plays on his lips dares you to catch the hint with a wiggle of his eyebrows.

“Very subtle.” Crossing your arms as if to act immune to his charms, you know he sees right through your facade but he plays along anyway raising his big hands up in the air in mock surrender.

“It’s just one of my favorite songs, I don’t know what kinda ideas you got going on in that pretty little head of yours.” He takes a few more steps towards you slowly closing the gap, daring to be closer to you than he had been all night without a wooden bar separating you.

“Interesting, I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Sixpence fan.” Raising your eyebrow, you have to look up at him when he finally takes the last few steps to stand in front of you. 

“Why? Cause I’m such a tough guy?” His grin grows wider when he looks down at you catching the roll of your eyes while you uncross your arms opening your body up to him with a laugh. 

“I can’t stand you.” Your swat is flirtatious with your palm hitting his chest. He’s quick to catch it, using your hand as leverage to pull you closer, biting back his groan when a breathy gasp slips past your lips when he tucks you into chest. First your giggle and now this? He just knew you were going to sound so pretty falling apart for him.

“I think Craig would call that bluff sweetheart.” He gives you a minute to let his words sink in, throwing his head back with a loud laugh when you huff at him embarrassed. “I’m teasing, I’m teasing. He needed to be dumped, a girl like you deserves someone that's gonna show up when they’re supposed to.”

The sweetness of his words has you melt against him, the playful pull from before surrendering to his touch and you swear there’s hearts in your eyes from the way he looks down at you after saying something like that. 

“Thanks for tonight Eddie,” your voice is small when it comes out laced with adoration, and it’s his turn to get bashful making your favorite dimples come out again.

“No problem sweetheart, honestly it’s my fuckin’ lucky night.” Pulling your knuckles to his lips, he places a gentle kiss to the skin stretched over them before letting your hand drop, noting the disappointment on your face that you’re quick to cover up. 

“Wanna get some fresh air while I smoke before I close this place down?” 

——

Eddie somehow looks even better under the twinkling stars and pink fluorescent lights of The Foxy Lounge sign. The low hum of the electricity filling your ears as you lean against the brick of the building. His eyes are brighter out here, catching them with your own when he looks at you over the end of his cigarette.

He winks when you meet his pointed gaze, the flame of his lighter casting shadows that dance across the strong lines of his jaw, the orange glow highlighting the stubble that covers it. Batting your lashes at him, you push your hips off the wall playfully while he keeps his eyes on you through his entire first drag, only breaking contact for the split second he needs to blow the smoke he inhaled away from you. 

“Don’t look at me like that.” His words come out like a warning before he takes another hit.

“How am I looking at you Eddie?” Biting your lip to hide your smile, you make sure to say his name extra sweet just how you figured out he likes. He shakes his head with a low chuckle blowing more smoke into the clear night sky. 

Despite only taking two drags, he flicks the barely smoked cigarette to the side before closing the distance with a few steps leaving him crowding you against the building. Your chest brushes against his with every shallow breath. Getting lost in the darkening amber inside his eyes, the calloused tips of his fingers catch against the soft skin of your chin. The pad of his thumb pulling the velvet of your bottom lip from between your teeth.

“Like you want me to kiss you.”

Ducking his head down he nudges your nose with his, the heat of his breath fanning against your open mouth. His eyes go from yours back down to your glossed lips silently begging for your permission.

“I think it was you that was hinting at kissing me earlier.” Pushing up on your tiptoes, you smile against him when your lips just barely touch. 

“Oh? You think that’s what I was doing hmm?” Asking the question he already knows the answer to, his tongue licks against your top lip as your hands find the material of his shirt, fisting as much of it as you can before yanking him down to collect his lips with an eager mouth, giving up winning whatever game this was. 

You swallow his moan when your tongues meet in the middle battling for dominance, teeth scraping, you taste the few puffs of tobacco still lingering on his taste buds as his muscle massages against yours. Sliding his knee between your thighs, he smiles smug into the kiss when your hips search for friction against the denim.

He breaks away from your mouth long enough to start trailing wet kisses down your jaw, the rough hair on his chin rubbing your skin raw as he starts nipping and sucking bruises along your neck. Biting hard enough at your pulse point to have to soothe it with his tongue after the mewls he pulls from you are enough to drive him insane.

Your fingers tangle into the curls at the nape of his neck, giving his roots a pull while you turn your head, opening more of yourself to him. Taking your silent invitation he nips at the dip of your collar bone before lifting his head to press his forehead to yours. 

“I gotta close up baby, but then…”rubbing his hands up your curves with a low groan he squeezes at the plush of your hips before finishing his sentence, “I think I promised you pancakes.”

Nodding your head because words are stuck at the tip of your tongue, he grabs your cheeks with a strong grip, smushing your lips together before stealing one last kiss.

——-

Eddie doesn’t give you the attention you’ve grown accustomed to all night when he starts the process of actually cleaning the bar. Your body still buzzes like a live wire from the drinks and the kiss outside. He’d been counting his tips with his back to you for the last ten minutes and you were growing impatient for more of him. You needed it. 

Counting the last bill he finally turns around and your thighs press together when you get to see his face again. Shifting in your seat when his eyes barely meet yours, he makes his way to the other end of the bar. Pushing yourself up to lean forward with puckered lips, he ignores your advances passing by without so much as a glance in your direction. Huffing when you plop back in your seat, he flips the knob starting to wash his hands in the mini sink with his back to you again. Your foot taps against the metal of the stool as you watch him grab the scratched up red bucket hanging below and a fresh rag quickly replacing his hands with it to fill up.

You wonder if he can feel your stare when he adds the soap, taking his time while he spins the rag in the steaming water, he starts ringing it out. Arms flexing and suds spilling over his knuckles, you were gonna lose your mind if you didn’t get your hands on him soon. 

He makes big swipes as he starts working his way towards you, keeping his eyes so focused on his task you’d think you were invisible if it wasn’t for the smirk that was getting impossible for him to hide. It only grows bigger when he stops in front of you, adding a low hum to his charade purposely wiping around the outline of your hands that were splayed out on the counter ready to push yourself up again. 

“Eddie - c’mon!”  

You’d be embarrassed if it wasn’t for the laugh that falls easy from his chest when he finally looks at you. His face softens and his eyes darken when he catches your angry pout, your fingers are quick to find his free ones making him tsk at you but he doesn’t pull away.

“My hands are wet baby.” He knew you didn’t care and the teeth showing in his wide grin told you he didn’t either.

Giving into your persistence like it hasn’t been a fight to keep his hands to himself this whole time, he leans forward brushing his nose with yours before nudging it against your cheek so your lips just barely touch. When you go to close the space he pulls back just enough to tease, a small whine escaping you at his games.

“What’s got you so needy, huh?” His words are whispered as he presses with the slightest pressure before pulling back again. “I didn’t kiss you good enough outside, you need more?”

“Please.” Your cheeks burn when you hear how your voice sounds, but his grip on your fingers tighten and a low moan breaks through his front at how desperate you sound just for a kiss.

“Gotta give my girl what she needs.” Your brain gets stuck on the words ‘my girl’ taking you a minute to realize he was finally giving you what you want.

It’s slower than outside, he’s taking his time with you this time. Untangling his fingers from yours, his hand comes up to wrap around the side of your neck. The water feels good on your skin as the pad of his thumb starts rubbing soft lines under your jaw while his tongue swipes at your bottom lip looking for more. You don’t give into his advances on purpose, keeping your mouth closed to get him back for all his teasing you feel his smile grow against your own.

Expecting him to stop and surrender, he only doubles down. Catching your top lip with his bottom, he pulls away just enough for you to open your eyes. God, you wished you kept them closed. The brightness from outside had turned them into nothing but black leaving no trace of the specks of brown from before. The knowledge that he was just as affected by all of this as you sends you reeling. Toes curling inside your sneakers.

“Whining over here for me to give you what you want, and here I am baby, and you’re playing hard to get.” Nipping at your bottom lip he meets your heavy lidded gaze again, “Gonna let me give you what you want?”

He barely lets you finish nodding before he’s on you, the hunger from outside coming back as he leans over the bar to deepen the kiss like you’d been begging him for. Opening your mouth for him without hesitation when he asks for permission again your tongues meet lazily, exploring each other like you didn’t get a chance to before. Pushing up again eager to get more of him he pulls back leaving you breathless with spit slick lips.

Despite the way his chest heaves trying to catch his breath, he does his best to play it cool, smirking when you have no shame chasing for more.

“I gotta finish closing up.” He gives you one more chaste kiss before he starts wiping the rest of the counter down. 

Jutting out your bottom lip into a pout, he laughs, throwing out a ‘you’ll survive five minutes baby.’

You leave him alone doing your best not to distract him, despite how much your fingers itch to have him close again. Grabbing the money from the register and the receipts for the night he disappears back into what you could only assume was Rick’s office. When he pops back out he looks a little more relaxed.

“Just gotta wipe the bottles down and then I’m getting the prettiest girl the best pancakes in town.” Clapping his hands together with a rub of his palms, he grabs another rag.

You were starting to hate pancakes. Not that you didn’t want them, you just wanted him more.

“Hey Eddie?” Trying to hide your ulterior motives in the sweetness of your voice, his eyes meet yours almost instantly and they narrow just as quick.

“Yes, sweetheart?” Setting the rag down he leans forward with his palms on the bar he gives you his undivided attention. An intimidation tactic. Unable to help yourself, your eyes trace up the ink covering his arms.

“Teach me how to make that drink?” Looking up at him from under your lashes, you see something flash across his face, fingertips digging into the countertop after the question leaves your mouth.

“Wasting Love?” 

“I mean, I wouldn’t call it that now, would you?” Laying it on thick, a slow smile spreads across his face. He saw what you were doing and he was going to fall into your trap willingly.

“Why don’t you come back here then, we’ll make our own.” His voice comes out low, his pupils taking over all the brown, pretty white teeth baring themselves at you.

His gaze is predatory when he watches you jump from the stool, the exaggerated sway of your hips keeps his eyes trained on the curve of your waist as you make your way into his space for the first time all night. Leaning against the back counter, his legs are spread wide leaving little to the imagination on how worked up you had him. His eyebrows raise when he sees the automatic press of your thighs at the sight. It wasn’t fair, you were trying to seduce him, not the other way around. He wasn’t even trying.

As if on cue the jukebox that had been left to play all night clicks, Ginuwine’s Pony pouring out of the speakers as he licks his lips unashamed at the way he’s drinking all of you in like this.

“Gonna teach me how to make something sweet, Eddie?” Trailing a finger along the bar while you close the distance, you drag out the ‘e’ at the end of his name just enough to get him to groan.

His hands grab your waist squeezing just hard enough to feel his strength before using it to pull you flush against him. The material of your dress doing nothing to hide how hard he is pressed into your ass. His lips trace the shell of your ear, the heat of his breath tickling your neck as you push back into him searching for more. The stubble on his face rubs rough against the soft skin of your cheek as he punctuates each word with a roll of his hips.

“The sweetest, baby.” 

You bite back your moan when his nose trails up your neck, his lips just barely grazing the warmth of your flesh before they settle back against your ear. You hold onto the wood of the bar in front of you when he hums low, feeling it deep in your core. His calloused fingers start a path up the bare skin of your thigh hiking up your dress when they catch the hem.

“Tell me,” your eyes close when his nose is pressed to your temple as he speaks, “Do you like cherries, baby?” His tongue catches your earlobe sucking it into his mouth, grazing it between his teeth when he lets it back out.

Your knees almost buckle at how good everything feels, the slow rock of his hips never stopping as he plucks at the lace trim of your underwear. 

“Y- yeah, I love cherries,” you whimper when his palms lay flat on the outside of your thighs, the cool metal of his rings biting into your skin when he squeezes at the fat working his way back up.

“Of course you do, pretty.” His thumbs hook the sides of your underwear, “You’re just so sweet all the time, huh?” Despite the need for friction, you spread your legs for him wondering if he can hear the way your lips pull apart sticky, arousal coating the inside of your thighs.

He chuckles soft in your ear praising you with a ‘so sweet’ before giving them a tug, letting the red lace fall to the floor. Keeping his hands on your hips, he presses himself against you hard enough to have the heels of your sneakers pick up off the ground. A low ‘fuck’ slipping out from under his breath when you whine a little.

“Red lace? Was Kurt gonna get lucky or was this just a ploy to get me all along, sweetheart?” Your cheeks burn at his question, his low chuckle tickling your ear when he hears you huff out an annoyed breath. “‘Cause if that’s the case all you would’ve had to do is walk through that door on any given night.”

He grinds himself against you one more time, but you can really feel him this time and it makes your legs shake.

“Are we gonna make this drink or do you wanna keep talking about Craig?”  The shake of your voice doesn’t go unnoticed despite trying to be sharp with him but the grip on your waist still tightens at the mention of the other man’s name

“Sure we can, if that’s really what you wanna do.” His words taunt you but with one hand holding you against him the other flips a clean cocktail glass onto the bar top with ease, like he wasn’t rock hard digging into your back.

Reaching around, his hand trails up the front of your thigh sending goosebumps across your heated skin. A shiver runs down your spine when he dares to dip between your legs inching his way towards where you want him most.

“We better not mix liquors so why don’t you be a good girl and grab the whiskey for me.” His lips brush against your ear with every word, his hand never faltering on their path even when his fingertips meet your slick folds. Feather light, he traces along your slit, not daring to break the barrier yet. Brain hazy with want you don’t even comprehend what bottle you reach for, blindly grabbing for whatever was in front of you.

“That is tequila, sweetheart. Tsk, tsk, tsk are you even listening to what I’m saying? Or are you too…” Before he finishes his sentence he pushes his index finger past your entrance, your warm walls wrapping tight around his digit, “…distracted?”

Your head lulls back against his chest, your eyes closing when he pushes two knuckles deeper. Your needy whimper makes him kick up again making you grind your ass against him in response. Licking your lips, you try to collect yourself only chasing for more of his finger once. 

“N-no, I can do it.”  Determined to prove him wrong, you focus just long enough to grab the Jameson bottle, “What’s next?”

He hums in approval while his smile grows against your skin. Deciding to indulge in your stubborn game still, he curves his finger enough just to make you gasp his name.

“Are we keeping this simple, or do you want something a little more—” Adding a second finger, you stretch easily for him now, dripping down his hand, “Complicated?” 

You shudder, a moan slipping past your lips while your grip on the bottle tightens so much you're scared it’ll shatter. Fuck, you gotta keep it …

“S- simple - oh.” His thumb finds your clit applying just enough pressure to have your mouth fall open and your brows to knit together, and just as quick as he’s there, he’s gone. 

Pulling himself free, he tries his best to ignore the way your pussy tries to suck him back in, your body begging him for more. You whimper at the loss, your eyes opening to remind you where you are.

“I’m gonna need both hands to do this, baby.” His fingers shine with your slick when he wiggles them for show, stepping back just enough for you to see the grin on his face but not enough to get out of your personal space. 

Grabbing his wrist, his eyes go dark when he realizes what you’re about to do. Gaze turning half lidded when your mouth opens, huffing out a deep breath when your tongue flattens against the pads of the two fingers that were just buried inside of you. Wrapping your lips around them, your arousal is tangy sweet hitting your taste buds.

Hollowing your cheeks as you suck them clean, you watch the confidence drain from his face, eyes rolling in the back of his head at the sight. The blunt ends of his nails dig through the soft material of your dress and he starts rutting into you with a little more force when you slide your tongue between each knuckle.

“Jesus christ,” his voice is strangled, words coming out through gritted teeth when you let him go with a loud pop.

“Now you can use both hands,” you say innocently, like you didn’t just suck them clean. You let his fingers tug at your bottom lip before dropping his wrist.

He fists a handful of your dress, a low growl rumbling from his chest getting a taste of his own medicine. Licking his lips, his eyes narrow at you before his teeth start to show, mischievous in the low light.

“Well if we want this drink cold, we need to fill this shaker with ice.” Just like the glass, he flips it on the counter one hand never leaving your waist despite his claim. 

Pressing his lips to your ear again, he makes sure to let his breath linger a little before he talks, enjoying the goosebumps that appear from such a simple touch.

“Fill it up for me, baby?” Your thighs clench at the deep rasp in his voice, both of his hands finding a home spread out on your thighs.

Nodding your head you slide open the silver metal door of the ice chest below you, bending over more than you needed to to scoop it up into the shaker. He groans loud when you press into him like this, his fingers making quick work to flip the back of your dress up. 

“Look at you, so fucking messy for me and I’ve barely touched you.” Grabbing a handful of your ass, he ruts into you, the rough denim hitting your clit in a way that has you moaning his name.

He laughs quietly at your neediness flipping your dress back down when you straighten out. Chests heaving in time with the other, neither one of you was ready to back down. Not yet.

“Might need to unzip those pants.��� Looking over your shoulder at him you fake a pout, “Feeling a little strained back there handsome.”

Smugness dripping from the smile on your face, he raises his eyebrows at you in a challenge. 

“Since you wanted something simple sweetheart, we just need two more things.” One hand snakes its way back between your legs, squeezing at the inside of your thigh before he lets you go for the first time since you set foot behind the bar.

Craning your neck so you could follow him, you find him bent down grabbing lemon juice from the mini fridge under the shorter back counter. Shutting the door with his foot when he stands up, he throws a wink your way when he grabs the simple syrup.

Setting the bottles in front of you he steals a quick kiss that leaves you wanting more before he grabs the small tub of cherries from the fridge he forgot his first go around.

“Okay, so you’re gonna grab the Jameson, and I want you to pour it out to the count of three for me then cut it off.” He returns to his place behind you, his large hand swallowing yours when it shadows your movements.

Your pour is shaky when he counts low in your ear, nuzzling his nose in your hair calling you a good girl after each successful addition to the simple concoction.

“Alright, now you’re gonna shake it as hard as you can angel.” His hands squeeze your hips for encouragement.

Doing as he says he pulls you against him even harder when your arms start to go wild. Your chest bounces with each movement making you giggle and you almost don’t hear the hitch in his breath at the sight. 

He helps you by putting the strainer over the rim of the glass when you’re ready to pour. Mumbling soft words of praise while he nibbles at your ear lobe. The drink is much lighter than the one you had all night, the dark orange turning lemon as the white foam fizzed on top.

“I think I could take your job.” You smirk reaching for the cherries to top it all off. 

“You think you could take my job?” He snorts incredulous, watching you unwrap the plastic wrap from the small tub dropping three cherries into the already very sweet cocktail.

“Absolutely.” Grinning while ignoring his stare you reach for another cherry, “No doubt in my mind.” You grab the fruit between your teeth, finally meeting his eyes as you pull the stem, relishing in the burst of sugar and grenadine that erupts against your tongue.

“Tough luck princess, unless you know how to tie that cherry stem in a knot with your teeth, no bar in this town is gonna touch you.” Grabbing his own cherry, he dangles it in front of your frowning mouth for you to bite. Obliging him with it bumps your bottom lip you tug gently, taking the fruit before chewing slowly while he sucks the stem once before it disappears in his mouth.

“I’m calling your bluff now. No one knows how to actually do that.” Daring him to prove you wrong he mutters a ‘watch me’ between his working teeth.

You don’t lose focus on the way his hand on your waist starts to wander, the blunt ends of his nails scratching against the fat of your thigh while his tongue ties the stem like it’s easy. Jaw flexing with each twist of his tongue before he pushes it out to show you, a pleased look on his face when the small knot in the middle comes out perfectly placed. 

Swiping it off his tongue with the fingers that were inside you minutes ago, you wonder if he can still taste you when he sets it next to your drink satisfied by the way your jaw drops.

“How do you think I got this job? I’m more than just a cute face.” The touch of his hands grows bolder when they start working their way up your dress, a thickness in the air that wasn’t there before filling your lungs.

“That’s quite the skill set you have there Mr. Munson,” your giggle is breathless, your eyes going from his down to his lips as you try to play it off.  

“I can do more than that with my tongue sweetheart, if you wanna find out.” His nose nudges against yours, the smirk on his face making you sweat when his fingers trace up your wet folds again.

Surrendering instantly, you forget all about the drink the two of you made nodding without hesitation the desperation for him all night finally taking over.

“Yeah?” His voice breaks when his thick fingers push into your entrance again feeling just how worked up all his teasing had you.

“Please - Eddie,” the pad of his thumb finds your clit again making you beg, “Fuck.”

“Asking me so sweet, how could I say no to you?” Murmuring against your lips, he finally gives in and kisses you. Wet and sloppy he only does it long enough to take your breath away before dropping to his knees.

His big hands on your hips angle you to face forward, flipping your dress up over your ass again. The air of the bar is still hot against your folds, arousal dripping down your thighs, you’re fully exposed to him now. You hear him suck the skin of his teeth at the sight, a ringed hand coming down just hard enough on your right cheek to make it jiggle before both hands palm the fat.

“I can’t believe you were gonna let anybody else but me have this pussy. Should be a punishable offense.” Pulling your cheeks apart to expose more of you to his hungry eyes, he pushes at the small of your back signaling for you to bend over more for him.

He moans loud enough to make you jump when you listen to his command, even you can hear the sound of your lips pulling apart for him. 

“All this for me, baby, fuck, you spoil me.” He wastes no time burying his face between your folds, his talented tongue collecting your juices before finding your clit. The rough hair on his chin rubbing your sensitive skin raw as he shakes his head from side to side. 

Squeezing your ass to pull you closer to his face when you try to run away, he sucks your bundle of nerves harder when he gets you back to where he wants you, dipping his nose into your entrance every time.

He does the motions he would do when he ties the cherry stem into a knot against your clit, a strangled moan ripping from your throat when he does it again.

Your hands find purchase on the top of the bar, eyes closed tight while you see white behind your lids. Your nails dig into the wood when his tongue flattens, the lewd squelching of your arousal filling your ears when he pushes his face so deep between your legs you aren’t sure if he can even breathe. The moan that rumbles through his chest and vibrates to your core tells you he doesn’t care. Wrapping his lips tight around your clit he sucks even harder, not caring when your legs start to shake from overstimulation. 

“Eddie, Eddie, I’m gonna - fuck!” His name comes out long and drawn out when you fall apart on his tongue. Relentless, his teasing never stops, his hands holding you up while your body starts to shake. Humming low in satisfaction against your cunt.

“I n- need, I need…” willing your eyes to open, your vision’s blurry from how hard he made you cum. Pulling away with a loud smack of his lips, he palms your ass cheeks before craning his neck to try and get a good look at you.

“What do you need, baby?” He nips at the curve of your right cheek before pressing his face to it, dazed from getting what he’s wanted all night completely content.

“I just, I just need you to fuck me,” you don’t recognize the choke in your voice when you whine for him. Whine for more.

“Jesus christ.” His words tickle against your skin when he groans, kneading the soft flesh of your ass one more time before standing up. 

His hands are on your hips before you can fully register the change in position, spinning you around and lifting you up he sets you on top of the counter behind the bar. The one where drinks aren’t served and the one that’s low enough for Eddie to slot himself perfectly between your legs. 

Eyes blown black while his beard and nose ring shine with your slick, his lips part - swollen and pink from pulling your first orgasm out of you. Bangs clinging to his forehead, his hair is a wild mess on top of his head from your hands. The confident air about him is gone, replaced with nothing but the need to have you. Snapping out of your daze, you’re quick to find the metal of his belt buckle.

His forehead presses to yours, while he watches the way your dainty fingers work the leather out through the loop. The white tips of your nails catch his eye when you undo the button of his jeans and his cock twitches at the thought of them pumping him for all he’s worth.

He hisses when you push the denim down his hips, his hard dick springing out to smack against his shirt that you immediately wish wasn’t there. Precum leaks from the angry looking pink tip while your hands fist the hem of the worn cotton, silently begging him to get rid of it. The big vein that follows the curve of his length makes your mouth water as he obliges your pleas, ripping his shirt off and throwing it somewhere you’d have to find later. 

You’re able to really take all of him in like this, his chest is heaving covered with just as many tattoos as the rest of him, the silver chain you’d peeped earlier hanging right in the dip between his pecs. Your eyes follow the dark patch of hair that leads to his cock, long with the kind of girth that you know is going to be a stretch, a strangled whine bubbles out of you at the sight while your thighs spread begging for him.

“God, I want you so bad,” you whine wrapping your legs around his waist, you pull him even closer giving into your animalistic instincts. 

“I know baby, me fuckin’ too.” He pumps his cock a few times groaning loud, squeezing hard at the base before pressing the head between your dripping lips. Mesmerized at how they wrap around his tip, his precum mixes messy with your arousal making lewd noises as he sweeps it through your folds.

Body shaking every time he hits your clit, you finally hook your ankles growing impatient when he teases your entrance.

“Fuck. Me.” You get out through gritted teeth, the lopsided grin he’d been giving you all night turns cocky when he pushes the tip in, your head lulls back at the invasion, the silk of your walls desperate to start sucking him deeper.

“Not so sweet now are you, huh?” Pushing himself all the way in, his rough thatch of pubic hair hits your clit when he bottoms out. His confidence falters for a second when a deep moan rips through his chest at the feeling. “So fuckin’ tight baby - shit.”

Your nails dig half crescent moons into his inked skin while you adjust to his size, his nose skimming against your cheek while he whispers how good you take him when your walls start to milk him, your body letting him know it was okay to finally move.

“Feel so good, Eddie, fuck - so good.” Your hips start a slow rock, feeling every ridge and curve of him. Your dress sits rucked up at your waist giving a perfect view of the way you take him, and it’s even better than what his imagination had come up with all night. 

He lets you use him for a minute, big hands resting on your waist — content with just watching the way you coat his cock with everything you have left over for him from the first time he made you cum. 

“That feels good, huh?” Cooing at the way your brows knit together and your mouth falls open, he picks up the pace, taking control. 

Pulling you all the way to the edge, his strokes get deeper, the tip of him hitting the spot that you know Craig would have never found. He pulls his cock out half way, relishing how your velvet walls try to keep him in place, he holds his composure before pushing back in, filling you to the brim. Addicted to the way it makes you gasp his name and arch your back, your body asks him for more when you’re too cock drunk to get the words out.

The straps of your dress start slipping down your shoulders with every thrust, your breasts bouncing just begging for his attention. His cock twitches inside you, it's almost too much. Greedy for more despite fighting the urge to cum, he tugs the front of your dress down to reveal a matching bra to the panties on the floor. Hips stuttering for a moment he growls at the reminder of your date before tugging the lace down, your nipple pebbling instantly for him before he takes it in the heat of his mouth. 

Pushing yourself closer, needing more, your hands find their way to bury themselves in his curls, holding him close. You needed him close. His tongue flicks at your sensitive bud and it makes you suck your bottom lip between your teeth. Your hips finding a way to match his strokes, reigniting the flames deep in your gut. God, he was gonna make you cum again.

He grunts around your breast, spit dripping down your soft skin from his ministrations while the snap of his hips start to get harsher and you know he’s nearing his end. He lets your nipple go with a loud pop before his hand comes up to grip your chin, his lips finding yours in a frantic mess of teeth and battling tongues.

The wood creaks underneath you from the force of his thrusts and the bounce of your ass to meet them. Mouths tangled, you swallow each other's ragged breaths, both of you desperately searching for your end when his fingers find your clit. Rubbing circles with just enough pressure to have your body start to shake against his, he nips at your bottom lip grunting when he feels the way it makes you flutter around him.

“Come on baby, give me another one. Be my sweet girl again and tell me how good I make you cum.” His fingers slip against your clit, fingers wet from how worked up he had you but his words are enough to have your world stop for a second.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie, Ed-“ Going blind behind your closed eyes he coaxes your second orgasm out of you with a silent scream falling onto his turned up lips. Proud of his work, his hips start picking up their pace inching closer to his own release he’d been fighting off since going down on you. 

“God, - fuck I’m close - where d-do you-?” Sweat drips down his forehead while he struggles to find his words, his impending orgasm making him short circuit.

“Inside, shit - please, I need it, Eddie.” Still needy and barely coming down, your legs around his waist tighten their hold, locking him in place while you use the last of your strength to help get him there. 

“Whatever you’re doing - holy shit , Jesus - I’m cumming, I’m cumming.” His hips press hard against yours when his cock twitches, spilling warm inside your greedy walls that don’t stop asking him for more. His face hides in your neck, the heat of his breath fanning against your sweat kissed skin while his body shakes with his release.

The roll of your hips never stops, just slowing enough to make him shiver after he starts softening, spent inside of you. You know there’s a mess starting to drip but neither one of you has the energy to move just yet. His lips start leaving small kisses along your neck, nose nudging against the space behind your ear and you can feel his smile against your cheek before he finally lifts his head up. The brown in his eyes return to a warm auburn like before when they meet yours.

“Rick is gonna fucking kill me if he ever finds out what happened on this counter tonight.” Rolling your eyes, you snort at his joke before shoving against his chest.

“You’re telling me you don’t fuck all your cute customers behind the bar, Eddie?” Batting your lashes at him, he squeezes your hips with a smirk. 

“Only, the really, really cute ones. I take them to get pancakes at IHOP around the corner, too.” Something shifts in his eyes and you think for a second you might see self doubt in them for the first time all night, “That is, if they still want to.”

“Well lucky for you, I only let bartender’s from The Foxy Lounge take me out.” Nudging your nose against his, your smile touches his lips.

“Sweetheart, you know I’m the only bartender here right?” Grinning like someone who just won the lottery, he quickly gets rid of the space between you, kissing you like it too.

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[patchiko]

GIVE US MORE ABOUT NSFW AL JAYYY PLSSS

HRHSJSGAHS OKOK!!

NSFW Arkham Knight / Ak!Jason Todd !! <3

detailed smut !!

(wet dream, praise, soft sex 2 somewhat rough sex, not super long, , im so obsessed with his brain)

rq are open :3

‘tis under the cut!! :p

M’SO EXCITED TO WRITE MORE ABT HIM M’SHAKING AND THROWIFN UP

NGL, i think one of the only reason he would come to terms with liking someone is bc he had a wet dream…

listen,, 99% of his dreams are nightmares, and you just changed his fuckin statistics for the possibility to the 1% chance of him coming in his sleep and being able to rest well after.

he has mixed feeling abt this..

on one hand hes like ‘wow cool i get to sleep well,’ but on the other hands hes like staring at his boxers and hes like ‘but at what cost…’

but oh,, he just knew he was fucked when it first happened and he woke up

after many , many years of overthinking, and his mind not being able to shut up … the thing that made his ass get so quiet was a fuckin’ wet dream

uuhhggrr it was such a good one tooo (hes internally cringing so hard)

ONE hand in his hair, softly rubbing his scalp, the other massaging his shoulder to the base of his neck. Jason has both hands on your hips. Being so gentle yet passionate with each thrust, fighting back the nastiest sounds begging to leave his mouth. So he starts kissing you, open mouth kissing your jaw to just between where your neck and shoulders connect. The noises you start letting out make his breathing stutter for a second. His kissing gets more passionate, soft sucking at your skin, and he’s feverishly rubbing and grabbing at your hips.

The wet sounds of him fucking you get louder. Poor guy is just barely stopping himself from rutting into you. His strokes were slowly getting more rapid but nonetheless coordinated, hitting that spot that had you loudest. Jason was marginally coherent but he’s still trying his hardest to make you feel good. Your body returning the favor by squeezing him so lovingly and he just cant fight back the soft gasps he lets out in between his strokes. The wet sounds, the lewd noises, the details of your body and skin he felt every time he pushed into you. All of this just because of him, just for him? You babble to him how good he was doing, murmuring how good it feels between moans, and it has him gripping your hips.

JASONS rocking himself roughly into you, but its that ever so loving hand, still gently massaging his neck and scalp. That sensation has his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Soft curses leaving his mouth. He buries his face right next to your head and has to grab the bed sheets just for an last attempt to stay composed. But the moaning gets louder, and you don’t stop gently massaging his hair.

So he can’t stop the “mmh, mmh, mmh” ‘s leaving his mouth with every rapid push of himself. He can’t stop the way his hands trail down to your legs to spread you wider for him. Grabbing at your thighs as he fucks himself through.

N’ just as he cums with a breathy gasp, his eyelashes are fluttering and eyes rolling to the back of his head. Letting his body weight press onto you and closing his eyes shut, trying to control his stammered breaths,,

he fuckin’ wakes up..!

First thought was “what the fuck.”

genuinely startled, he doesn’t freak out bad but he like slowly reaches to touch his pillow.

his mind was so blank, couldn’t tell if it was because of the wet spot on his sweatpants or he was genuinely so stunned.

*hes like scratching his head and looking at his pants.*

hes goes to take a shower and his eyes are so blown out he looks like one of those cat memes

but his mind is soo quiet,,

in my brain at the very back of his mind he’s like ‘whys there so much of it.’ HSIGSISHSISHSIDHS HES COMPLETELY SERIOUS TOO???

he’s taking a shower and his brain, oddly, isn’t foggy, not dissociating, just feels so here.

which is horrible because that means he really has to directly face his feelings

KRILLING MYSELF WHY IS HEART TO HEART PLAYING WHILE I WRITE THIS???

heart to heart, heart to heart, heart to heart <3

Next time he sees you he feels so odd, he knows it a natural thing that can happen.. but it was so

djsksnkdnd

tingling under his skin sensation is yelling at him to leave, and he does.

hes cringing

he likes you…

he cringes harder

ghosts you for awhile

realistically doesn’t want anything like that to happen ANYTIME soon

but is it weird that he kinda wants it to happen at all?

MENTAL GYMNASTICS COMMENCE !!

but when he stops ghosting you for awhile, and comes back to see you still being just as patient as you were every time you saw him before,

arms always open for him, food waiting for him, a sweet smile. and with your own patience, his own patience begins to thin.

Everytime he leaves you its a little harder for him to not come back

that tingly feeling under his skin slowly becomes a craving for just your presence. thats all he wants.

he doesn’t need to fuck you when he just has your eyes on him.

“what you run from is what you end up chasing.”

live footage of arkham knights brain cells falling for u insta reel

TEEHEE i loved writing this it was so fun, rq/inbox is open !! feedback is always appreciated >:3

[alotofpockets]

Serious about you | Leah Williamson x Lioness!Reader

Where you cross a line with your best friend

Warnings: smut (with a plot), 18+ MDNI

A/n: @scribblesofagoonerr thank you for your support throughout writing this one!

Woso masterlist | Words: 2.2k

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“Leah!” You yell out for your best friend when you see her walk through the doors of St. George’s Park for the first time since she had done her ACL. At the sound of your voice she turns around with a smirk on her face, “You’re happy I’m here, aren’t ya? Your day just got ten times better darling’.” You roll your eyes and hug her. 

“Always happy to see you, but the comeback makes it just a tad bit more special.” Leah’s smirk grew impossibly bigger. “Knew you thought I was special.” There was only so much of Leah’s flirty personality you could take at once until your body would go into panic mode, so you decided you had to step away. “Yeah, great seeing you, I gotta gay- go! I gotta go.” You quickly walk off cursing yourself, while Leah’s proud smile goes right past you.

Beth, who noticed the whole interaction, followed you out of the hall. “I see your crush on Leah is going well.” You sink into one of the chairs in the room. “Oh god, people saw that?” The blonde chuckles, “I think everyone saw you run off with a face like a tomato.” What a great start to camp you thought while your face was slowly returning to its regular colour.

“When are you just going to tell her about your feelings?” Beth was well aware of your feelings for the Lionesses Captain, as she was often the one you came to for advice and a listening ear. Her being your roommate this camp would probably come very handy for those reasons, besides Beth of course being a great friend of yours.

“You know I can't, Beth. Everybody knows Leah doesn't do serious relationships.” It was well known that Leah hadn’t had a serious relationship since Jordan, every girl she had seen since was just a meaningless hookup, so there really was no use in you ever confessing your feelings for her. 

Once you’ve come down from your embarrassing moment on the first day back at camp, you and Beth join the rest of the girls again. It was great seeing everyone again, and your embarrassment was soon forgotten.

The next morning the dining hall was buzzing with energy and laughter. Everyone was happy to be reunited, and was catching up on the time since they had last seen each other. Beth nudged your shoulder, “Look who’s coming over.” 

Your heart started racing as Leah walked in your direction with a beaming smile. Internally you were screaming at yourself, Leah was your best friend, you shouldn’t panic every time she’s near. It used to not be this bad, but ever since Leah started making flirty comments towards you, your brain just went full mush.

“Morning, love. Did you sleep well?” You tried to sound casual, but your mind went a little numb at the nickname she only used on you. “Morning, Lee. Yeah, I slept well. How about you?”

“I slept great. Any plans for today?” Oh god she wanted to have an even longer conversation, while you still had the love on your mind. You glance at Beth for help, but she just raises an eyebrow and smiles, clearly enjoying your discomfort. “Uhm well just training with the team and recovery after.”

Leah nods contently, “Alright sounds good. I’ll make sure we’re paired up for drills so we can catch up some more.” You smile and nod, “Looking forward to it.” Leah smiles and turns around to get her own breakfast. 

You turn back to Beth, “Looking forward to it? Why did I say that?” Beth rolls her eyes, “Well, clearly because you’re in love with the woman.” You groan, “Don’t say that out loud!” Beth laughs at your antics, “Relax, it’s just drills. Also, it’s just Leah.” With a huff you respond, “Yeah, just Leah. Mind telling my mind that when it stops working when she’s near?”

One thing about Leah was that when it concerned football, she was always serious. So, while you were running drills with her as your partner, the flirty side of Leah subsided. It wasn’t like she was only serious, you were still having fun while training. You were actually very much enjoying spending time with Leah like this, no embarrassing yourself this way.

Over the next couple of days the team was in full training mode, which came with plenty of recovery where you would relax with the girls. There were movie nights where Leah would sit besides you and put her arm around the back of the couch, and team walks where Leah would always find her way to your side. 

Tonight on the final day before your first match, you joined a few of the girls to recover in the hotel hot tub. You were deep in conversation with Beth and Lotte when Leah walked up to the hot tub, “Got room for one more?” She takes off her training top, leaving her in her sports bra and shorts like the rest of the girls. Only since Leah wasn’t like the rest of the girls to you, your eyes fell on her toned stomach, making you fully space out on the conversation you were having. 

“Earth to y/n.” Beth says loud enough for only you and Lotte to hear. You snap your eyes away from Leah at Beth poking your shoulder. “You’re drooling.” You want to defend yourself, but you know there is no use since she had seen you staring on full display. 

You tried your best to keep your eyes away from Leah, but each time you glanced over you were either faced with a smile or a smirk from the blonde, making your heart beat faster. On the other side of the hot tub, outside of your field of hearing Keira nudged Leah, “I think you might give her a heart attack if you keep flexing, mate.” Which only made Leah smirk again.

Slowly more and more of the girls started leaving the hot tub, until only you and Leah were left. She sat with her arms spread over the edge of the small pool, and you couldn’t help but let your eyes wander. You don’t know what came over you to check her out without anyone around the two of you to cause enough distraction for it to go unnoticed. 

“Are you just going to keep staring from the other side, or are you going to come join me?” Leah asked with glint behind her eyes that you couldn’t quite place. You move across the hot tub and sit down beside her. She moves her arm that was laying on the edge behind you to your shoulder and starts drawing patterns on it with her fingers.

You hadn’t said a word to Leah since the other girls left, and your eyes were focussed on a glimmer in the water. Leah was doing things to your body right now that you couldn’t control. “You had no problem checking me out when the girls were here, what has gotten you so shy now?” Your only reaction was the blush spreading over your cheeks and the way you swallowed hard. Leah moved her other arm to turn your head her way softly by your chin. She was about to say something, when she realised that you were staring at her lips.

Leah starts slowly leaning in, to give you enough time to stop what was about to happen. You didn’t make her stop, so she placed her lips gently on yours. When Leah realised you weren’t kissing her back, she quickly pulled away again. “Sorry, I thought there was a vibe.” That’s the moment you sprung to life. “There was, sorry.” Leah’s smile returned to her face, “There was?” You nod and lean in this time.

You knew you should stop, but this was the only way you would ever have Leah and besides every fibre in your body telling you that this was only going to end up hurting you, you just couldn’t stop. Before you knew it, you were sitting in Leah’s lap and the two of you were fully making out. 

When Leah’s hands started moving up your thighs, you broke the kiss and halted her. Leah was about to apologise, but you were quick to speak first, “It’s okay, just not here.” You said looking around. Even though the area was currently empty, it was still a public place, and you were not about to have a stranger or even worse one of your teammates walk in on you.

With big towels around your bodies, you made it to Leah’s room. Leah had never been happier to have a room to herself during camp, the perks of being the captain. Without missing a beat, she closes the door behind you and pushes you up against it. Every thought of this not being a good idea left your mind the moment she slotted her leg between yours.

Leah’s hands roamed your body, losing both your towels in the process. It all happened very fast, the next thing your remaining clothes were scattered around Leah’s room and you were laying in her bed. Leah was laying on top of you and kissing your neck, with her hands between your legs. 

The pleasure she was bringing you with simply her lips and her fingers, was overwhelming and perfect at the same time. At no point did you want her to stop, even telling her “More.” A couple of times between pants, which Leah happily obliged to. 

You didn’t realise you had fallen asleep until you woke up the next morning, still naked in Leah’s bed. At first you’re a little disoriented but then it all comes flooding back to you. You crossed a line with your best friend. Your best friend that you were in love with. Your best friend who is the captain of your team. 

Quickly but quietly you get out of bed and put on a clean training kit from Leah, since yours was still wet from carelessly being thrown on the floor last night. You take your own stuff with you and throw it in the laundry on your way back to your own hotel room.

“Well good morning to you, stranger.” You had hoped Beth had still been asleep and you could pretend that you had come in after she had gone to bed last night, but all of that was out the window now that she was looking at you with questions behind her eyes. You confess everything to Beth, who simply cheers you on for finally acting on your feelings. It doesn’t feel that way to you though, Leah didn’t know about your feelings, and knowing Leah this was just a one time thing. At least that was what you were telling yourself. 

Before you could talk about it more, you had to head to breakfast since you had an early bus to take for your first match. You didn’t get to talk to Leah, and quite honestly you were trying your best to ignore her for the time being. 

The first time you interacted with Leah was after the match when you had given your jersey to a fan in the strands. Leah had rushed to your side and handed you her jacket. You thanked her before bringing your focus back to the fans. 

On the bus ride back, you avoided Leah again, opting to sit next to Lotte instead of Leah or Beth. You didn’t know what you wanted, but talking about last night was definitely not it. Back at SGP everyone goes their own way again. You opt on staying with some of the girls in the lounge and put on a movie. About halfway into the movie Keira walks in, “Hey y/n, Leah wants to see you in the meeting hall.” 

You curse yourself, this was it. You had ruined your national career because you couldn’t stop yourself. Nervously you opened the door and found Leah leaning against one of the tables with her arms crossed. Her first words came as a surprise to you, “Why did you leave this morning?”

For a moment you don’t know what to say, standing in front of her with a slightly furrowed brow. “You wanted me to stay?” Leah’s serious expression softened, “Yes, of course I wanted you to stay.” You take a deep sigh, knowing you need to speak your mind. “Lee, last night was… amazing, but you don’t do serious relationships. I left because I didn’t want to make it awkward.”

Leah realises what you’re talking about. “Look, I know I’ve got a bit of a reputation concerning that, but this is different. I haven’t brought a girl home for months because you’ve been clouding my mind. I’m serious about you. Last night meant everything to me, and if it did for you too, I would really like to explore this new territory with you.”

You couldn’t believe what you were hearing, Leah was feeling similar to how you were feeling about her? “It did mean everything to me too. I- sorry, I didn’t expect this, I am a bit at a loss for words.” Leah smiled and stepped towards you. “Maybe instead of using words, I can kiss you?” You nod and Leah crashes her lips on yours. 

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[wordsinhaled]

Restaurant owner/chef Charles / Food critic Edwin AU!!!

So, I just thought of this AU and I am so jazzed about it that I need to drop this idea somewhere so it can become a 100k fic I can devour in one sitting asdfhfhfhf

In an ideal world I’d want to offer the floor to someone Desi to run with this idea, or to collab with me on it because I want to do Charles' food and culture and relationship with his mum justice. I’ve only been adjacent to the restaurant business (my family ran a small café for a bit and I worked there, and I have a family member who did culinary school, so).

I just know that this idea has Arrived in my brain and I can’t just let it sit in there unattended, asdjfjfjf

I'm tagging @nix-nihili and @queen-of-hobgobblers 'cause I feel like this will be up your street???

Okay - so Charles and his mum own a small Indian restaurant. It’s a family business and his parents ran it together ("together") before. Charles’ father was incredibly controlling about the menu, their community partners and suppliers, as well as pretty much every other aspect of the business (and their lives, behind the scenes). Now Charles’ father is out of the picture—I'm undecided how this happens, but I just think Charles deserves to live an unfettered life without Mr. Rowland hurting him anymore, tbh.

He gets to rediscover the joy of cooking together with his mum, cooking as freely as he wants and not being held back by his dad's expectations, refreshing the restaurant's menu to feature more authentic versions of the dishes, making connections with new suppliers, redoing the accounting to pay everybody a living wage... Just generally, like, revamping the entire restaurant to be a more joyful place to be that celebrates delicious food and companionship as a form of connection and sharing. Edwin is a food critic who goes to the grand reopening of the restaurant. Edwin likes to write about and document food. He enjoys experiencing a restaurant and its food possibly even more than the tasting of it. He presents like the uptight, exacting sort of food critic restaurants are intimidated by, with his many layers and his bow tie and his posture and his perfect hair, his little notebook and his vintage pocket pen. But inside he just wants to be able to feel some sort of a connection: with the chef through the food (What is the dish trying to tell him?); with the other person at the table—if there is another person, which is so rare.

Family mealtimes for Edwin growing up were distant affairs, overly formal and stilted and coded, minefields for being scrutinized and speaking and acting in only the most acceptable ways; not places to be honest or genuine or to let one's guard down. Certainly not occasions to experience genuine enjoyment. He wants to believe that food, which is so vital to life, and the preparing and the sharing of it, can be different. Positive. Joyous.

Charles gives Edwin a tour of the restaurant when he arrives. Charles is not like a lot of other restaurant owners Edwin has met. He introduces Edwin to his mum and the way he looks at her makes a pang go through Edwin's chest because clearly, they love each other so much, and Edwin may have never had that but just looking at it heals something in him. He's not getting invested, though. (Right?)

Charles' enthusiasm is like, off the charts. He's practically vibrating, to the point where excitement tips over into anxiety, clearly trying to keep it toned down and failing. And Charles is like, "I'm sorry. Just a bit nervous, yeah? I really care about this place. I need it to—I mean. I really want it to do well."

Edwin's heart goes out to him. "Do not worry," he says, softly. "I am not here to hurt you." He doesn't know why he says it but all the tension goes out of Charles, the slightly frantic look goes out of his eyes, and he gives Edwin the brightest smile he thinks he's ever seen. It's a gorgeous smile. Relieved, and carefree, and warm like sunshine.

"D'you want to try some food?" He says it almost conspiratorially, as though this is not Edwin's primary and entire purpose in being here.

Edwin looks around the quiet, empty restaurant. It's cozy and warm with mid-afternoon sunlight streaming in through the windows at the front. Even without any patrons, without the din or bustle of a full dining room, it seems to beckon to foster shared happiness within it. "I was under the impression that I would be partaking of your dinner service this evening," he says delicately, trying to hide that he might actually want nothing better than to never leave here at all, let alone try some food.

"Well, yeah," Charles says, "'course you are. But this is different, innit? Not for the article. Come on, let me cook for you. You look like..." He stops. Perhaps considering if he's about to say too much. His eyes are bright and thoughtful and fixed on Edwin so intently that Edwin doesn't breathe for a moment. "You look like no one's cooked for you in ages." It comes out soft, but firm; as though he knows what he's talking about. Edwin feels like the wind has been knocked out of him.

"No one has ever cooked for me," says Edwin matter-of-factly.

He has no idea what it is about Charles that makes him admit something so honest—although it is not entirely accurate. His family had had a personal chef. Technically speaking, all of Edwin's meals had been cooked for him, until much to his parents' chagrin he went off to a student flat, and culinary school, and began to cook them for himself. But he suspects that no one has ever cooked for him, the way Charles Rowland is offering to now. Properly. Like it means something. Like he is trying to say something through it; unspoken words that Edwin has always wanted to hear.

Let me know you. Let me connect with you. Let me take care of you.

Charles' eyes widen. Clearly, he is trying to process Edwin's bleak admission. "Right," he says, after a beat, as his posture gains something determined; his grin bright and charming. "That settles it, then. I know exactly what I'm going to make you."

And before Edwin can say anything else, he's taking Edwin's hand in his and tugging him towards the kitchen.

[endursent]

- Biting Cold - Searing Warmth

【 content; sunday x reader , astral express sunday , mutual masturbation , blood and injury, hurt/comfort , huddling for warmth , handjob , self-destructive thoughts , NSFW 】

【 note; thank you for all the likes, comments and reblogs on through the dark, the overwhelming support means a lot to me and gives my souls strength. please enjoy this much longer piece.

as always, the reader's gender is never mentioned, i avoided describing their genitalia and left it vague so that you can imagine your preference. 】

【 word count; 8.075 | read on ao3 】

He feels slightly out of place among the Astral Express, it’s not that he doesn’t physically ‘fit in’, all of you look different, act differently and portray yourself in very different ways… but Sunday hasn’t been able to see himself as part of the crew despite travelling with you for four months. 

  He feels like he’s made of stone, every movement is stiff and he has to make excruciating effort into every little action, he feels cold and hard, like an observing statue as opposed to a member. 

  There are days where he forgets that cold, when what he has come to recognise as typical shenanigans drags him into situations where he’s either forced to use his brain to solve complex problems or empathise with someone in a situation he didn’t think was possible. Days where he is on his feet and his mind tunnels to the mission at hand. 

  And there are others where there is silent travel, two days of calm traversal through the cosmos where he retreats to solitude and sees the sky get further away behind closed eyes. He tries to write down his thoughts and understand them, understand what his goal has become… the path he has taken leads towards the cosmos, towards discovery of himself as well as the universe, but what does he search for in the distant stars? 

  Is he merely searching for redemption? Should he not atone for the wrongs his ideals did to others? 

  Dan Heng had told him that endlessly searching to right a wrong that has already been done will only wear him down to his bones and bring no closure. That it will be an endless journey of selfish fulfilment, he will never be able to touch every person that was drawn into the dream—and that he should start with the person he can touch, himself. 

  He startles when he bumps into your back, his mind having been completely occupied with thoughts and distracted—as usual. Sunday grasps your shoulder to push himself back slightly as he gives the back of your head a glare. “Why do you walk in front of me? There’s more than enough space.”

  You give a small shrug. “Just making sure you don’t walk into something, think of me like a cushion,” you wave your hand vaguely as you turn back around. The snow is getting deeper as you venture through the woods, at one point in the densest part, it reaches up to your knees as you practically climb forward, raising your knee stomach-high with every step. 

  Looking around, you squint through the all-white forest… there’s supposed to be a research facility out here, at least according to one of the locals that showed the group around. But all you see is snow and trees.

  Sunday pulls his coat tighter around himself, he doesn’t yet have a very varied wardrobe to properly adjust based on the world the Express goes to next… perhaps he should have searched in the small town for an extra layer, the biting cold makes his fingers stiff and toes tingle uncomfortably. His nose is cold and whenever you turn your back to him, he tucks his wings against the front of his face like a shield, hoping his warm breath might give some comfort to his red nose and cheeks.

  Finally, the trees spread further apart and the snow congested less, you take out your phone and unlock it… no signal. Well, at least you’ve been walking in a straight line, it’s unlikely you’ll get… lost…

  You see a line of snow that’s been walked through across the clearing, it’s halfway snowed up again… and it looks exactly like the line the two of you have been leaving behind—but how could it be through this same clearing? You swear you haven’t turned at all since you left the town! 

  Sunday spots it as well and his teeth clench together. “That’s ours… have we been walking in circles?” he, too, was sure the path had been straight the entire time. How could you pass by your own footsteps leading across your current path? 

  You both stand still for a time, the gears in your head spinning, trying to understand how this came to be—does it mean that the way you came from now is wrong? Is left or right the way back. You heard Sunday click his tongue and turn to look at him… he looks terribly cold. 

  Feeling a bit bad for him—and certainly not wanting him to catch a cold, you zip down your thick jacket and pull your arms out of it. Being that you’re the only moving thing in his line of sight, Sunday immediately frowns at the sight. “What are you doing? You’ll freeze if you take that off—” he blinks as you hold the jacked out towards him, and he hugs his own coat closer to himself, lowering his chin under the scarf around his neck. “I don’t need your jacket, it is my own fault that I’m underdressed.”

  “Doesn’t mean you should freeze,” you push it against his chest. “Come on, while it’s warm—we can take turns.”

  Reluctantly, Sunday unwinds his stiffly cold arms from around himself and accepts the jacket, it doesn’t fit him perfectly… but the relief it brings is far more valuable. It’s still a bit warm from when it was wrapped around your own body, and he can faintly smell your scent along the neck of it. You give a smile and reach for the hood on the back, you pull it over his head, the fur lining it tickling his cheeks as his wings get pushed against his head and poke out of it, halo bobbing behind his head with snow lined around its outline. 

  “... thank yo—wh—?” his thanks is interrupted as you poke the feathers of his wings that are sticking out and push them inside the hood before pulling it slightly further down. “Stop—it’s perfectly suitable,” he waves your hand away. His cheeks were red already, but now more so with an embarrassed warmth as well.

  You immediately feel the chill of the cold wind and shake your arms a bit before rubbing them for some friction. “Alright, alright—I’ll leave you be, come on. The sooner we find this facility the faster we’ll be out of the cold.”

  He makes a ‘hmph’ sound and hunches slightly so that his face is nestled nicely in the collar of the puffy jacket. If you’re to take turns, he should try and warm up as quickly as possible… he doesn’t want you to be cold either. He only accepted as easily as he did because he knew you would hold him down and force the jacket onto him if he didn’t…

  But the gesture resonates with him nonetheless. It would be easy for you to continue in comfort, the jacket doesn’t prevent cold entirely, but it brings a significant barrier to the wind and chill, especially with the hood protecting his ears and neck. Yet you still chose to share it with him… it almost brought more warmth to him than the jacket. 

  You have always been like this, he shouldn’t be surprised at this point… with every offer, every smile and nudge, his chest grows warmer. 

  His sleepless nights were never unaccompanied, you were usually in the kitchen past midnight—once because you ‘forgot to boil eggs for breakfast and are too tired in the morning to do it’, another time because you were simply thirsty, then it was the night before Welt’s birthday and you and March 7th were baking cupcakes at three in the morning. 

  It has become a habit when he cannot sleep, be it because his thoughts will not stop interrupting him, or because the deeds of the past pull his stomach down until he has to use a bathroom or he simply feels restless and has a need to stand and move… to go to the kitchen. It’s a separate carriage from the bedrooms and gives some peace and quiet, once when you were not there as he had become accustomed to, he had taken out his phone to send you a message and ask if you were awake.

  Of course… he didn’t, as his thumb had hovered over the send button, he set his phone down and turned back to his water. Spending the dark hours of the night alone. 

  Not that there is a true night and day on the Express, it operates on a 24-hour cycle where the lights dim and the windows are blocked to emulate night—but Sunday is far accustomed to strange hours or wake and deep sleep. 

  Sunday is once again taken from his thoughts as you stop for the second time, looking around with a focused expression on your face. He follows your gaze but sees nothing amiss, just more snow and now distant trees. The sky is grey and the ground white, the falling flakes of snow blending the two seamlessly to blur the distance between earth and sky. “What is it?”

  With a shimmer, your weapon appears in your hand, sturdy and warm against your cold fingers. “I heard something…”

  Out here? It was a miracle if anyone found you out in the chilled wilderness like this.

  “Remember what those kids said earlier? When we were in town?” your voice lowers, eyes still scanning your surroundings. 

  Sunday nods. “That… we should be careful because ‘kids who get lost in the forest turn into ghosts that eat people’?” he didn’t entirely believe them, it was most likely just a cautionary tale their parents tell them so they don’t run into the forest and get lost. No child will survive for long. 

  “I don’t much like ghosts…” you mumble, the shiver on your skin not only because of the biting winds. Your muscles are coiled, ready and tense… you’re no stranger to duking it out with a monster or two, or even people. But what if you can’t whack it away like you could anything else? 

  Sunday is equally on guard as you are, but less experienced with direct combat. He’s mostly relied on intellectual disputes in the past, as well as planning for conflicts ahead of time where he won’t have to directly face off against something. 

  You see something shift in the corner of your eye—it’s not a whole form, it looks like a misty shape that drags into the snow as it moves. You shift your feet towards it as it speeds towards the two of you. Sunday grasps your shoulder as if he’s about to pull you backwards, but before he can, you swing your weapon—and the misty form dissipates.

  “...” your eyes flicker around to search for it. “Was that it?”

  “I doubt it,” Sunday says quietly next to your ear, his voice clear above the cool brush of wind that’s been chilling your skin. “There,” he gestures to a shift between trees. “There is a flicker of blue between the shoulders, it must be the weak spot.”

  Weak spot, you can deal with that—it can’t be much different from the game machines in Penacony, whack the glowing part. 

  “Be careful if it—” Sunday’s warning went ignored and interrupted as you lift your leg and charge toward the misty apparition. “Wait—!” damn it, he knows you have a tendency for recklessness, but at least let him do what he’s good at and create a plan of attack!

  He struggles to wade through the snow to follow you, unfamiliar with navigating high snow. But he has no chance of catching up with you. You raise your weapon again and raise your hands to swing downwards—but the misty form moves and you miss, the body dissipating again, it’s already a pretty small form, but it’s mostly translucent too, it’s not easy to follow.

  You’re so damn cold, it’s difficult to move as quickly as you usually could. You see Sunday stop halfway towards you and look around for the elusive creature… you’re not sure what it’s capable of, but your prickling instincts are telling you it’s absolutely not friendly. “Come, stay closer,” Sunday calls to you. “It’s less likely to surprise us if we watch each other’s flanks.”

  He’s right. You start to wade through the snow towards him when something moves in the corner of your eyes to your right—the wraith-looking creature seemed more condensed than before, its form whiter as if the falling snow had blanketed its outline and made it more visible. The blue hue in it’s torso flickered and expanded as a sharp shard of ice formed inside its body, it wasn’t wide, but it was long and jagged—and it was facing Sunday, too far from you to be able to get to him in time if the speed at which the shard was made was anything to believe. 

  He seemed to see it as well, eyes widening only slightly in surprise at the sight—his gaze snaps equally startled towards you as you dash towards the wraith. What are you doing!? Sunday calls your name in both warning and surprise, concern clear in his startled gaze, the creature is clearly preparing an attack—you should be falling back on the defensive, and not charging right at it!

  You hop surprisingly easily through the snow, each large step eating at the distance between the threat and yourself. Swinging the bat at it did nothing but dissipate it and let it reappear elsewhere—and you don’t have the body heat or stamina to chase it around for twenty minutes. Maybe if you grab the blue centre, it’ll materialise enough for you to break it. 

  Sunday cursed the high snow, trying to stumble through it towards you as you ran at the enemy. He watched as you leapt at it and tackled it down—surprisingly, the wraith did fall with you, but the way your body jerked as you landed in the puffy snow made his skin itch. 

  As soon as you tackled the wraith down, the shard of ice it was conjuring short forward as if it had been held back by a tight bowstring—and impaled itself in your body. The sudden, violent pain that burst from your torso made you nearly double over in on yourself. But you persisted and jabbed the end of your weapon into the core.

  With a loud crack and sound of shattering, the core broke apart like a light bulb, as if it had been entirely hollow. The misty form dissipated once more, leaving only shards of blue on the snow under you. 

  Sunday calls your name again with more urgency, heart hammering in his chest as he finally makes it to you, he bends down to take your shoulders in his hands. “Are you hurt? You shouldn’t rush li—” his words stop in his throat once he sees blood padder onto the snow, the red colour a stark contrast to the pure white of freshly fallen snow. 

  For a moment, he doesn’t move, unsure what to do—does he tug you up into a sitting position? Onto your back? Where is it coming from? You’re on all fours already, so perhaps you can straighten slightly. “Let me see, let me see,” his voice is urgent as he sees the tremble of your hands and hears a strange sound, as if a thin sheet of ice was being stepped on. Sunday takes your arm that twitched towards your torso and sees frost hardening on your clothes and skin. 

  As soon as you had physically touched the wraith, your skin began to feel extremely cold, like you were perpetually laid against ice. Your entire torso prickled, but the worse of the pain was coming low in your abdomen, your eyes lower and you see the shard imbedded in your lower left abdomen, it was wider at the bottom and stretched the skin apart and cut your clothes where blood bubbled and dripped down into the snow. It felt like you had drunk ice cold water, the feeling of it leaking down into your stomach—except it was spreading from the ice, and every surface you had touched of the ghost.   

  “Let me see,” he says for the third time, firmer this time despite the small crack of his voice, whether it was from the cold numbing his nose and lips or the creeping anxiety at the back of his mind, it was hard to tell. 

  You gasp and cry out slightly as he tries to right you up, it feels as if the sharp shard in your body had just cut through the entirety of your torso with the small movement, tears bubbling at the bottom of your eyelids from the overwhelming sensitivity and pain. “S-stop—” you pant, voice barely audible between short, quick breaths, as if you were afraid that breathing deeper would hurt more.

  Sunday swallows, he’s not a doctor and though he knows basic first aid, his knowledge of what to do in situations like this relies heavily on the fact further help was on the way—but out here in the snow and wind with no signal… 

  He shrugs off the puffy jacket you had handed to him earlier and he lays it over your back, the biting cold already cooling his shivering body. “I’m sorry,” Sunday apologises quietly, his heart is racing, and though he seems calm outwardly, it’s a very practised and well-crafted front. His thoughts are racing, heart hammering in his chest and cold fingers trembling. All he sees and seems to be able to focus on is the puff of your breath and the drops of blood continuously leaking from you. 

  He’s afraid. Afraid that trying to move you will hurt you further, afraid that it might do irreversible damage—afraid that the damage is already so bad that there is scarce time to act. 

  The wind blows again and a shiver shakes both of your bodies and Sunday knows that just sitting around fretting will do more harm than good. “I am sorry,” he apologises again, more sincerely, because he knows this will only cause more agony. 

  He wraps his arms around you, and hoists you up to your feet. Your breath leaves you as you instinctively try to hunch back down, the stretch of your torso is blinding, your vision almost whites out in pain as you gasp and curse. Sunday apologises for the third time as he tries to drag you with him, pulling your dead weight is no easy feat—he isn’t particularly strong physically, he would struggle to hold Pom-Pom for long. “Hold on…” Sunday says quietly, his breath heaving from the strain of dragging both of you through the cold. “It’s alright, you’ll be okay,” he tries to reassure you, he needs to keep you awake.

  Sunday wasn’t sure he had ever felt so… anxious? Afraid? His skin felt like it was trying to tear away from his body, his hands and knees trembled and his heart clenched with every beat. 

  He is the one who should suffer, not you. 

  “Talk to me, you need to stay awake,” he urges, pinching the skin over your ribs. Sunday doesn’t want to create more pain… but if you fall asleep now, there’s no guarantee you’ll wake up again, and the thought makes his breath tighten. 

  Talk to him? No thought forms in your head, all you feel is pain. You want to throw up, your head is spinning and it feels like your ears are blocked out. “... o-okay,” is all you can manage. You can’t even move your legs to walk with him, he’s taking the entirety of your weight at this awkward angle. 

  “Good,” he peers into the distance. You need shelter—it would be a miracle if he found the town you departed from, or the facility you were looking for. But Sunday doesn’t consider himself so lucky. He looks down at you, slumped against him with sweat on your forehead despite the cold, he tugs the jacket closer to your body, trying to make sure you get some respite from the winds. 

  His legs burn, but he sees a raised part of the earth—there, it must be enough. “Almost there,” he murmurs your name, worry gnawing at his gut. “You’ll be alright, I’ll make sure of it,” he promises, holding you tighter.

  You groan as he sets you down in the small cave you found, your limbs shaking terribly—laying on your back doesn’t feel great, but it’s probably the best position you could be in, it pulls slightly on your wound… but it’s better than being hauled around. Blood has leaked more from the wound because of the movement, and the cold spreading from it, as well as your arms and chest where you touched the wraith has begun freezing your clothes in place.  

  Sunday presses his lips together, this cave isn’t large, but he could immediately feel the relief that the shelter brought. The snow gathered at the entrance shielded you from the biting wind, and that’s what’s most important. He takes his phone out of his coat pocket, his fingers stiff and numb from the cold… no signal, still. It might be the snow and wind, perhaps it will come around if it dies down.

  For now, there’s a far more important matter to tend to.

  Sunday kneels by your side, his throat tight at the sight of your pain. He had never been particularly good at facing the pain of others with a calm and straight face, his deep sense of empathy and compassion makes him wish he could take the pain from you and bear it himself. Not to mention that he’s come to actually care for you, he has never felt himself so shaken like this—not since he had heard of Robin’s injury. Very few instances will shake him so thoroughly to his core as that did. 

  He tugs your sweater up, a small whimper leaving you as more cold brushes against your bare skin. The shard isn’t wide, it’s similar to his thumb, perhaps a bit wider… but he realises the severity of it nonetheless. It’s long, and…

  Sunday hears the cracking again.

  You had only moved your hand, your breath trembling. He looks down at the shard again and sees frost spread from it, it’s cooling your skin and hardening on it—it has to be removed. Everything in his mind is telling him not to touch it, leave it there so that you don’t bleed even more profusely. But if he leaves it in, your skin and body will freeze.

  He says your name quietly. “I need to remove the shard,” he says slowly. Sunday reaches for your hand and holds your fingers in his palm. They’re ice cold, frost covering the gloves and threatening to freeze them in place. “It… it will hurt, and I apologise for having to do it.”

  You squint at him, swallowing thickly. You can’t imagine how it will feel, and you feel anxious to let him. “A-are you sure?”

  “Yes,” he nods, his hand slides up your arm and rubs it slightly, as if he’s trying to create friction and warm your skin. His wings are lowered, sitting against his shoulders as if saddened. He wasn’t entirely sure what the best course of action is, but surely you will have a better chance with an open, but dressed wound and not being actively frozen alive, than you will with the shard still inside of you and trying to actively kill you? 

  It’s a chance you’ll have to take. 

  He takes off his scarf but leaves his gloves on, he doesn’t want to touch the shard with his bare hands. “I will need to remove it slowly to ensure it doesn’t cut you further…” Sunday shifts on his knees next to you, the cave floor is just as cold as kneeling on snow. “I’m sorry.”

  You’re not sure how often he’s apologised at this point, and you’re unsure why he feels the need to, this wasn’t his fault. 

  Before you can examine the thought further, he grips the shard and you gasp—even just touching it makes you panic. “W-w-wait—” your heart races. Don’t, it—

  He pulls gently, and the shard moves. A scream tears from your throat and Sunday’s breath catches. He almost stops, but steels himself. If he stops now, it’ll be worse, he’s already started—he has to finish. He repeats his apologies like a mantra, your body jerks and he uses his other hand to press down on your left hip, trying to hold you still. 

  It only takes a few seconds, but they feel like minutes, minutes of tears and screams, of trembling fingers and gentle pulling. He has to pay attention to his movements perfectly, and has to make sure it doesn’t hurt you further. 

  And when it’s all over, he tosses the shard aside and bundles his scarf to lay over the wound as blood wells in the wound. His white scarf immediately colours red at the edges as tears slip down your temples. Sunday feels a rush of emotions after the ordeal, your screams and tears, the blood. Almost as if moving instinctually, he lays over you and wraps one arm around you, cradling your head into his shoulder as his other still presses against the wound. “I’m sorry, it’s over, you’re okay,” he whispers into your ear, his arms shaking equally to your entire body. “Focus on breathing, slowly. It’s over.”

  He tears up as well, the soft wings by his head touch your jaw as he holds you, his breath shaking. He hadn’t even realised how tense he had gotten, and while the danger hasn’t passed—and you could potentially be in more danger freely bleeding as you are, it brings a small relief that the shard it out. 

  Your head spins, the pain has been so agonising, the fear and anxiety of pulling the shard out that you feel like you passed out for a moment. But feeling Sunday so close, holding you so tenderly, as if he were cradling a delicate feather between his palms… your hand that feels less frozen solid slowly raises, as if to return the hug—but your fingers poke at his halo by accident and he near shoots up, wet eyes large. Ah, touching a halovian’s halo probably doesn’t feel good, you think. 

  He blinks a few times and takes a breath. “L-let me focus on your wound, then we need to find a way to warm you up,” Sunday says hurriedly, sitting back on his knees. 

  His mind races as he tries to focus on pressing down on your wound, hoping it starts to clot faster. Your body was so cold, even your neck and cheek. Sunday himself doesn’t feel particularly warm… but he’s afraid that you’ll die from hypothermia if he doesn’t warm you up quickly. Sunday looks up to see that your eyes have slid shut and he feels his heart tighten. “Open your eyes,” he reaches up and pats your cheek with his palm, he says your name urgently. “Stay awake, just a little bit longer, please.”

  He tries to keep you awake with encouragements and small pokes and pats, but your near violently trembling body needs more help. Sunday ties the bundled scarf to the wound tightly with a long ribbon from his coat—maybe this needlessly complicated outfit has its uses after all. He then focuses on trying to warm you up, he places his hands on either side of your arms and rubs them, creating friction. The frost that had built up on your clothes and skin hasn’t spread further, it was likely driven by the shard. Now he just has to warm you up.

  But friction can only do so much, after a time, you’re moaning about it hurting, and as he lifts your jacket he sees the already reddened skin from the cold is raw and sensitive. 

  Sunday’s eyebrows pinch in thought as he does as before. “Let me share my warmth with you,” he utters and lays over you, now using both arms to wrap around you—he doesn’t dare move you into a different position than on your back. He still tries to rub every surface of your skin for warmth, but it’s not retaining heat well enough. 

  “We need to create warmth—” he jumps as he feels your cold fingers slide under his shirt. His stomach is warmer than his hands, and your icy fingers on it makes his entire body shiver. “O-okay,” he doesn’t say more, he doesn’t trust his voice to form fully. 

  This might be the method you need, and Sunday is determined to warm you up in any way you require… though this doesn’t very much help him retain his warmth.

  As your fingers feel warmer and it’s easier to move them, you retreat them from his stomach and slowly raise them to his ears. Sunday blinks at you in surprise as your warmed fingers envelop his cool ears. “What are you doing?” 

  You give a weak smile, you’re still in pain, but you’re more lucid now that there isn’t a foreign object stuck in you. “We warm each other.”

  His cheeks redden slightly as your fingers rub the shell of his ears to warm them, your fingers aren’t exactly warm, but they’re not completely cold either.

  “It won’t be sustainable like this,” he says, still laying over you, just raised slightly with his elbows on either side of your head, his misty breath wafting over your cheeks. “We need to warm faster, more directly.”

  You squint at him, he sounds like he was trying not to explicitly say something, but you had an inkling to what it was. “Like… sharing body heat?”

  His head turns slightly, gaze avoiding you as one of his wings twitches, moving to his cheek as if to hide his face, you’re unsure if it’s a conscious movement. “... for example.”

  You don’t see why not, desperate times and all that. “Okay, your coat is pretty big, we can use it as a blanket, my sweater too,” he has an easier time taking off his coat by himself, but has to help you take your sweater off. You shiver at first, but as Sunday sets his coat and your sweater over the two of you, and lays closer to you—still wearing a thin shirt—you feel subtle warmth. 

  Sunday struggled to even talk to you as soon as you huddled together, though there were thin shirts separating you, he felt the skin of your arms and collar against him. He’s never been this close to the glimpses of your skin only previously seen from a distance, now he’s close enough to smell you, to touch you. 

  He’s careful not to touch your wound, but keeps an eye on it. Your breaths mingle together and you lay your cold forehead against his shoulder to try and absorb any warmth he gives. Unfortunately, it’s not quite enough to keep both of you warm. He tries to rub your arms again, and you try to breathe warm air on his skin, but the solutions are very temporary. 

  Darkness has begun setting outside, and there’s little light inside the cave. You can still see each other, but it’s clear that nighttime is approaching. You whisper in Sunday’s ear next to you. “You cried for me, earlier.”

  He doesn’t reply immediately, his hands that were rubbing your thighs for warmth halting for a moment. “... I did.”

  “Do you often cry when people are hurt?” you wonder.

  “Sometimes,” he continues to focus on warming you, trying not to think of your lips brushing against his collar when you talk. 

  He hadn’t just cried because you were hurt, because you were in pain… a thought had occurred to him as you screamed and shook as he removed the shard that it might kill you—that his actions might. He had done nothing but stand and watch as you had battled the wraith, he had moved slowly and been unsure how to help you after you broke its core… and he had brought you more and more pain. Even in trying to help, how can his heart not ache? 

  You who have always been so kind and patient, even when he sought to entrap the cosmos. Even when you stood on opposite sides of the grand theatre. You didn’t hesitate to include him, to make him feel welcome as he hesitantly stepped onto the Express. You sat with him during long nights and caught him when he experienced his first warp.

  He doesn’t want you to die, he doesn’t want you to be hurt.

  You seemed to sense that he had fallen deep into thought yet again, you raise your head from his shoulder and he turns his head to look at you. As he does, your cool fingers slowly raise and touch his cheek, it’s warmer than before. “You’re very kind.”

  His lips part slightly, his expression is difficult to read as he stares at you from above, his eyes flicker from your eyes down to your hand, to your eyes again and do a round of your face. He opens his mouth further, as if he wants to say something, but only a breath leaves him that warms your own cheeks. He utters your name and it’s almost too quiet to hear. Slowly, his head lowers and you meet him halfway—his lips are soft, despite not having eaten or had water in hours, stuck in the cold, they don’t feel stiff or chapped at all.

  As if he’d snapped out of a trance, it had only been seconds that your lips touched and he was pulling back, eyes wide. “I-I’m sorry, I should—”

  “It’s okay,” you breathe, hand still on his cheek as you try to guide him back towards you. “You’re warm, and…”

  He doesn’t need more of a reason, he’s been aching to be closer, his arms tremble with the strain of holding back. His body is so damn cold, and the inside of your mouth is warm as his tongue slips between your chilly lips. Your hand that rested against his cheek slides behind his head as he kisses you deeply, your head lowered against the cold floor, only cushioned by the fluffy hood of your jacket. His wings flutter and brush against your wrist as your other hand touches his shoulder. Sunday’s fingers that had tried to keep your thighs warm rise to your hips, one hand dangerously close to your wound. 

  Your mouth opens to warm him, your lips separating for a moment, but he presses on again. “I know,” Sunday assures you, and his gentle tone eases your wariness. “I’ll be careful.”

  His lips part in tune with yours, the sounds of your wet kisses echoing in the cave, his thumbs rub at your hips as if he can’t keep his hands still and the only way to have them put in one place was to at least soothe you like this. Your cheeks are warm from the deep kissing, it’s almost suffocating the way his tongue drags over your lips and traces the inside of them, as if he’s trying to taste every surface of your mouth he can reach. 

  It was too much, the taste of you, the warmth of your mouth and your tight hold on his shoulder and behind his head. He needs more warmth, needs to feel it radiate from you and bask in it like touching a bonfire. Your cold fingers and shivering skin, the frost clinging to your sleeves and collar—he wants to make you warm again, feel your warm fingers against his own, like when you handed him a cup of tea during a long night and your fingers touched. Even the brief brush of another’s skin had stuck with him for weeks. 

  He groans against you and his mouth slides from yours, his lips trailing warmth to your cool jaw and throat, the chilled skin shivering again when he closes his mouth over thin skin between the juncture of your shoulder and neck. Your breath trembles as he worries it between his teeth, tongue gently brushing over the tingling spot once he’s done. 

  “I…” his breath is deep and wanting. “Let me warm you, please. I-I wish to touch you, to ensure you won’t shiver with cold any longer.”

  You nod. “Help me,” the words are pleading on your lips. Your feet are numb with cold and your body has bouts of harsh trembling. You want him to touch you. 

  Sunday takes your lips again with his, as if he can’t get enough of your taste and the feeling of your mouth moving against his, he tilts his head to kiss you deeper as his hands lift your thin shirt to your collar, moving any barriers in his way as he moves the heat from between your lips and to your chest. Your body will quickly warm itself if he stimulates it appropriately, and he intends for the two of you to feel comfortably warm. “Wha—“ you weren’t expecting his mouth to seek there so quickly, and certainly were you not prepared. 

  His lips close around your left nipple, the warmth brought from it makes you inhale softly—but as the texture of his tongue drags over it, you nearly jerk in surprise, your wound aching from the sudden moment. Sunday’s hand holds your hip down on the side where there is no injury, his eyes looking to you from under grey eyelashes. “Please be still, I don’t want you to hurt yourself,” his breath fans over the moist point of your chest and you shiver again—for entirely unrelated reasons to the cold. He resumes his attention and you find that ‘being still’ is your greatest challenge today. Every single drag of his tongue, flick and suckle sends sparks through your body, it makes your fingertips twitch where they’ve claimed hold of his shoulders and your thighs flex. The most prominent tingles settle between your legs where you’re desperately trying to will down the rising need for attention. 

  Your cheeks and neck warm—and you make a high-pitched sound as his gloved hand moves to your other nipple, a poke followed by a pinch and his thumb sliding left and right over it makes your body instinctively squirm and tense. “S-Sunday—“ you breathe his name, unsure exactly what you want him to do or don’t, the sensations of his warm mouth and cold glove on opposite sides makes your head nearly spin. 

  “Do you feel warmer?” he looks up at you again, his golden eyes seem to glow in the darkening cave. 

  You nod again. “A little,” you’re still cold, especially on your stomach that’s bare And exposed to the cold air of the cave. Your left hand rises slightly to touch the wing above his shoulder—causing Sunday to tense as he blinks at you. You want him to be warm too, he’s been so diligent in trying to make friction against your arms and thighs, in hugging your coats together and huddling close… “Warm us both, together.”

  He licks his lips in thought. Warm you both at the same time? He can only think of one method. Sunday takes your hands from his shoulders and holds them in his own, he raises them to his lips and blows air onto them before he guides them between your legs—and a distinct warmth emanates from there. It shouldn’t be surprising, having your chest touched and licked like that definitely pools heat there, but the way Sunday’s hands are so careful and his gaze so focused, as if he were unearthing a grand treasure or under an important assignment…

  He buttons open and lowers your pants only as far down as needed, not wanting to expose your skin to more cold air than necessary. Sunday still holds your hands as he lays them over the radiating warmth of your crotch, he doesn’t directly touch you, only using your own fingers as a proxy to slowly slide and rub your cool fingers over yourself. You bite your lip as you twitch under your cold fingers, the stark contrast of temperature making your heart race more than it was already. But it does warm your fingers, the more he moves them. “This might be uncomfortable at first,” Sunday utters as he brings your hands up before guiding them into your underwear—with no barrier between your warm flesh and cold fingers, the temperature difference is even more stark. 

  His own cheeks are red now as well, and he releases one hand from you to lean over you again and bring your bodies closer. “Keep your hands there, move and touch as you can,” he says and fully lets go of your hands. He holds himself over you with his elbow on the floor next to your head—which you instinctively tilt your head towards to rest against, seeking his touch—while his other hand unbuttons his own pants and tugs them down only slightly. “I-if we… do this, then our bodies will warm… and so long as we huddle together, then—“ his body almost jerks as his cold fingers touch his own aching need. “—then th-the cold should subside somewhat.”

  You nod, the movements familiar to you as your breath deepens—you were so sensitive, perhaps it was your cold fingers, or it could be the prelude of having your chest touched like that. This is surprisingly effective, but you still struggle to pay attention to your own pleasure and movements while Sunday is only a hair’s width of you, doing the same. So much of a distraction that your movements stilled, gaze fixed on the way his breath heaved, his head lowered so that his forehead was almost touching yours, his wings raised and shuddering. 

  Sunday seems to notice that you aren’t moving anymore, he swallows thickly and squints at you. “Wh-what is it?” his voice trembles slightly. “Does it hurt?” 

  He’s worried about your wound—and it certainly does ache, but your attention is far from being focused on that. “No… ah, can I… can I touch you?”

  “What?” he doesn’t understand you at first, even though he’s been quite good at reading your expressions and words today. “You… want to touch me?”

  You nod, and your hands leave yourself towards him, your warmed fingers touching his wrists—and his hands almost fly out of his pants in surprise. “I do,” you confirm. “Can I?”

  He seems conflicted for a moment, eyes lowering before he nods. “Okay… I’ll take care of you too.”

  A smile touches your lips. “Alright, I think it will warm us much faster.”

  Your fingers slide under his underwear, his cock is already straining against his underwear, hard and hot to your touch. Sunday gasps as you touch him—your fingers aren’t nearly as cold as they were before, but he still tenses as if you had shoved snow into his pants. You grasp him gingerly, not sure what is too fast of an approach for him, but as his breath seems to slow at your gentle touch, you take it as a go-ahead. 

  With every stroke and movement, his hips twitch—as if they want to move with you but are held back by sheer will alone. Sunday can barely think clearly, all he feels is you, all he smells is your skin, mixed with sweat and blood that stirs something in him. He joins you, his hand touching you in return and immediately it’s like your entire body flares to life, your hand moves faster, careful still—and Sunday leans down again, his lips on your neck kissing and suckling, his cool nose brushing against your warmed skin. 

  “S-Sunday—ah—“ your breath shudders. “More, l-little bit down—mnh,” warmth was pooling in your belly quicker than you’re used to, the flexing of your stomach amongst the pleasure tugged on your wound a little, but the brief pain was just an enhancement at this point.

  He breathes out your name, once, twice—with every stroke of your hand. You don’t feel that you can properly take care of him when his cock is confined within his pants like that, you turn your hand and tug his length out of them—and he springs free to the cold air, making Sunday suck in a breath, your sweater over his back almost sliding off. “Hahh, y-you don’t need to…”

  “I want to,” you assure him, licking your lips as you have much better freedom of movement now, your thumb strokes over the head and Sunday whines. His hands redouble their efforts between your legs, pushing your pants and underwear a bit further down to give himself more room as well. “Fuck, Sunday,” you curse on instinct, the overwhelming feeling of liquid heat searing through your veins causing you to respond to his hands with your hips—you were getting closer, and with every touch and twist on the upstroke you make, he is as well. 

  “Ahh, please,” he presses his forehead into your neck, Sunday’s hips make no effort to cease their movements now, he fully meets your strokes, hips rolling with your hand—he’s pressed down so much that your stroking him against your stomach, his thigh pressing against his hand as he prays to bring you equal pleasure with his own fingers as you are doing to him. He makes a particular movement that you can’t describe—and the tight coil in your stomach that’s been spreading fire through you for minutes finally releases its tension. 

  You cry out slightly, both surprised by the intensity as well as the relief and soothing warmth that surges through you from his fingers and out to your fingers and toes, to your ears and behind your eyes. 

  Sunday almost seems to come undone simply at the sight of you doing so, he needs only a few ruts against your tightened hand, instinctively flexed with pleasure, to achieve his own, his entire body jerking and shuddering as a sticky wetness splatters onto your stomach. 

  It takes the both of you a few moments to to catch your breaths, but as soon as Sunday’s thoughts realign to a comprehensive read, he tugs his coat and your sweater that’s slid a bit askew over his back—somehow miraculously not fallen off—to huddle the warms built by your combined pleasures. He nearly jumps when he feels the evidence of his pleasure sticking to your stomach and quickly starts to dry it with his shirt. “I-I apologise, I should’ve—should have turned away,” he stutters slightly, his voice not entirely reliable yet. 

  But you only laugh softly, wincing slightly from the strain put on your wound—the worry in his eyes from only a mere wince makes your chest warm more. “It’s okay. We’re warmer now, and… it was good, you’re good with your fingers.”

  His cheeks redden further—somehow—and his gaze leaves yours, looking at the floor next to your head. “Th-thank you… you did… very well, as well,” Sunday mumbles awkwardly. 

  You open your mouth to speak again, and suddenly both of your phones ping. 

  It’s stopped snowing and the winds have calmed, Sunday fishes for his phone to see seven unread messages from the Astral Express group chat. They’re asking for both of your locations and whether you’re alright, it’s been hours. He sighs in relief and sends your coordinates to them, the sooner you get medical assistance, the better. 

  You watch as he sets the phone aside. “No time for round two?”

  Sunday looks at you as if you’ve sprouted two additional heads. “Round two? Already—? No, you—the injury, if—what?” he stumbles through three different sentences, and you only laugh softly. The halovian lets out a ‘hmph’ and turns his head away from you—his cold halo bumping into your forehead.

  “Next time, then,” you rub the spot between your eyes where the spiky point of his halo smacked against you. 

  A sigh leaves Sunday and he turns his head to you again, a soft, warm kiss blessing the corner of your mouth. “… once you’re healed.”