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bangaveragewhitewine · 1 year ago

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crazy-mad for you

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

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

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

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

Word count: 16.7 K

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

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

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

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

Dividers by me ✌️

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, hotshot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Listen dickh-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trip her? Oh. He means you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The whiskey burns but you barely feel it.

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

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

As you take another sip, the door swings open.

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

“Hey, you okay?”

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

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

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

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

“Ed…”

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

Your jaw drops, “You’re blaming me?”

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

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

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

The air between you is charged and heavy.

I want to. What does that mean?

Eddie covers himself quickly.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very gentle,” he murmurs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nuh-uh. You like fries?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm. You gonna laugh at me?”

“Probably.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. Definitely not. S’why I left.”

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

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

“Perv.”

“Witch.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rum. And Coke.”

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

“Eddie. He was the owner.”

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

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

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

“Jesus, the woman needs fries - stat.”

“And a Coke?”

“And a Coke.”

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

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

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

“I’ve had worse.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You squeeze his hand, he squeezes back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“D’you hate it?” you ask carefully.

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

His smile makes your tummy flutter.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re feeling brave. Eddie is too.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You muffle your laugh against his black t-shirt.

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

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

“Well then…” you say quietly.

“Well then indeed…” Eddie echoes.

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

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should be so lucky.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You gonna behave?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuhhh- Eddie.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You feel unreal, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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multifandomworldsposts · 1 year ago

Text

Day 7 of Kinkmas: Sleeping In The Lot With Sodapop Curtis

KINKMAS 🎄🧤❄️

Pairing: Sodapop Curtis x fem!reader

Warning: making out, hickeys, protected sex, public sex

Y/N’s POV

Sodapop and I are going to the drive-in to see Beach Blanket Bingo tonight, we’ve been wanting to go somewhere alone for quite sometime because of him working including me going to school.

When Soda and I got to the drive-in, I can see some socs and their Mustangs and Corvairs, as usual. When Soda and I parked we went to the concession stand to get some food and snacks. When we got there, I see Bob and Randy, looking smug as ever.

“Just ignore them.” I whisper into Soda’s ear.

“I will Y/N/N.” He whispers back.

We get our food and drinks and we walked out like there was no one in the room. We get back to the car and get in the trunk of Soda’s truck and we get comfortable, ate our food, I cuddle up with Soda and enjoy the movie.

After the movie, Soda decided to take us to the lot to be somewhere quieter. I cuddled up with Soda again and look up to the stars to see any shapes in the sky.

“Did you like the movie?” Soda says looking at me.

“Yeah I did, I really loved the dancing and the fashion in the movie.” I say looking at him.

“I only liked the dancing.” He jokingly says.

“Come on, what else did you like?” I asked him.

“Fine, I liked the dancing and the sets of the movie.” He says trying to think.

“I like that better.” I smile.

Soda looks at me and kisses me, I kiss back. We look at each other and I make him get on top of me. We begin to make out, we haven’t done this in a while now but I’m glad we’re doing this.

Soda begins to touch my body, I moan, but I try to keep my moaning quiet because there’s neighbors everywhere. I feel him giving me love bites, I gasp. I get on top of him and gave him some hickeys as well.

“This is new to me Y/N/N.” Soda whispers in my ear.

“Just want to give my baby what he wants.” I whisper back.

“I like the sound of that.” He smirks.

I giggle and continue to kiss his neck. He wraps his arms around me and continues to touch me which makes me to giggle. Soda makes me lay down on the ripped up car seat and grabs a condom.

“You wanna do this?” He says to me.

“We’ll just be quiet.” I sit up and whispers in his ear.

We begin take our clothes off, Soda gets the condom on him and begins to fuck me slowly, I cover my mouth so I can be quiet. I gasp a little, he really is so good at this.

I flip us over so I can be on top, I begin to ride him. He grabs on my hips and guides me, I already can tell I’m going to be sore tomorrow. I sway my hips to make him feel deeper inside me, he covers his mouth and groans. I giggle at him. I make him sit up so he’s looking at me and he looks at my breasts.

“I don’t mind if you do anything to em’.” I say to him.

He grins and starts to do something to the valley of my breasts, I tug on his hair, I feel him sucking my nipples, which makes me arch my back and lean my head back by the pleasure of him now giving me more hickeys. My parents are going to kill me, I hope we have children one day.

After him being a sex crave addict, we lay on the car seat. I feel his heart beating and he touches my hair.

“I hope we can do this somewhere more private Soda.” I say looking up at him.

“So we can be louder?” He grins.

“Maybe.” I giggle.

We look at the stars again, they different than the last time I saw them.

“I promise I’ll make daddy fuck me harder.” I whisper.

“Let’s just go to an abandoned warehouse and, daddy will make you beg.” I says in a deep voice.

“What if mommy wants to take control?” I pout.

He winks at me, he knows I’ll take control and make him feel good like he does with me.

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natalievoncatte · 11 months ago

Text

“We should play truth or dare.”

Kara nearly choked on her wine when she realized what Lena had said. That sounded like an amazingly terrible and yet incredibly intriguing idea. She turned to say something when she caught Alex giving her a look that could shatter diamonds. Kara downed the last of her wine and said,

“It’s getting pretty late, Lena.”

“You’re no fun,” Lena said, poking Kara in the center of her chest for emphasis.

Kara was glad she was sober. It wasn’t entirely true that she was immune to alcohol- it just took about a gallon of grain alcohol for her to feel a mild buzz for a few minutes, then have to run to the bathroom as her superhuman metabolism almost instantly forced it out of her system. Alex had “helped” her discover that once back in high school, and they both ended up grounded for a month.

“Come on, Kara. This way I can find out where you’re always running off to. In vino, veritas.”

Kara looked around and saw her own mirrored panic rising in the others. Kelly looked on from the kitchen, the only other member of their little group who was oblivious to the sheer weight of what Lena just said. Nia looked even more green than she had a moment earlier, and Alex was giving Kara a warning look, shaking her head behind Lena.

Brainy, for his part, remained mellow, sipping his grape soda. He was the designated driver for the night.

“Yeah, we need to go,” Nia threw in. “It’s been fun but I have an early day tomorrow.”

“It’s Saturday,” Lena protested, but it came out shaturday.

“I have to get up for yoga,” said Nia.

“We’re all in the same class on Thursday,” said Lena.

“Um, I’m getting ready for the yoga championships. Extra classes.”

Lena raised an arched brow.

Alex cut in, suddenly. “Kelly babe, you ready?”

“If you are. I was going to see if Kara needs help with the dishes.”

“I’m fine,” Kara called out, hearing the alarm in her own voice.

“Lena, are you riding with us?”

“Nah,” said Lena. “I’ll stay.”

Alex cleared her throat.

“How will you get home? You’re sauced, Miss Luthor.”

Lena grinned and looked over at Kara. “I’ll just stay over. I do it all the time.”

Alex’s brows climbed up and she turned to Kara with an incredulous expression.

“When did that start?”

“It’s no big deal. I live on the other side of town and Kara has a nice couch.”

Alex seemed to relax a little. Kara’s heart was trying to slam through her ribs.

“Okay.”

They all bundled out of the apartment, with Alex promising to text and Brainy swearing to let Kara know they were all home safe.

Kara closed the door behind them and turned around. Lena was still curled up on the couch, swirling the last of her wine in the bottom of the glass. She was in leggings and a big, baggy sweater that had been pulled to one side so hard that it almost bared her shoulder. Her hair was down and had gone wavy, falling over one half of her face, making her mysterious and distant. She downed the last swig of wine and put the glass down.

“We could still play truth or dare.”

“Lena,” said Kara. “You’re really drunk.”

“So are you.”

Kara swallowed, hard, feeling the bitter bile of her lies at the back of her throat. She wasn’t drunk at all. She was barely even tired; the city had been miraculously calm all summer.

“Which is it, Kara? Truth or dare.”

“Neither,” said Kara. “I think what you need is some sleep.”

Lena rested her glass on the coffee table, in the middle of a game of Monopoly that they’d all been too drunk to finish.

(Except Kara. Lena would have won, because Kara always agreed to whatever trade Lena offered, because saying no to Lena was harder than lifting a submarine over her head)

Kara leaned back against the kitchen counter coolly, trying not to betray her emotions. That turned into a job for Supergirl as Lena rose from the sofa with seductive grace, stalking across the loft with feline intensity. She was at once cuddly and soft in her sweater and a seductive vamp with her long inky locks pulled over one shoulder and the other bare.

Kara’s eyes locked on the bared skin, soft and creamy and crying out for a warm touch, then pulled away sharply as she willed herself not to ogle her best friend. It was a losing battle. Every step brought Kara back to the sway of her hips or the way her leggings gripped her thighs or the soft promise of her curves beneath that sweater.

Kara was starting to think she might be gay.

Lena stepped into her space. With both of them barefoot, Kara had a notable height advantage. Lena reduced it by rising on her tiptoes and threw her arms around Kara’s neck.

Kara had few weaknesses. Kryptonite. Magic. If kept up long enough, oxygen deprivation.

Lena Luthor.

She was so close that Kara could taste her breath, the fruity tang of the wine and the soft, inviting scent of Lena beneath her perfume. She was wearing a soft pink lip gloss that drew Kara to stare at her lips. She could almost feel them without touching. Her blue-green eyes were dark and sultry, and she leaned in on Kara, pressing the soft weight of her breasts against her chest.

Kara’s pulse went like a hummingbird and her knees went wobbly, but she simply ignored gravity.

Kara had other advantages. She could see the heat bloom on her skin and feel the change in he skin conductivity, and hear her heart racing. Lena’s pulse nearly matched her own.

Before she knew what she was doing, Kara had her hands resting on Lena’s sides just above her hips, moving on pure instinct. All she’d have to do was dip her head a fraction and she’d be kissing her. She was so close.

“Please pick dare,” Lena whispered.

It too every fiber of her being not to say “dare,” but she held her tongue. She also held Lena.

“I can’t. You’re drunk and I’m not.”

“Hi drunk, I’m dad.”

“Lena! This is serious!”

“Oh, you’re serious. I thought you were daddy.”

“Lena!”

“I dare you to…”

Kara pressed her finger to Lena’s lips.

“Lena, please listen. You’re drunk. I’m not. If you still want to do… whatever this is… in the morning, I… I want that. But not like this.”

Lena frowned and Kara thought she might die of sheer sorrow right there.

“Okay. Should I go home?”

“No, absolutely not. Just… do you trust me?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll explain in the morning. I promise I’ll,” she swallowed hard, choking down the fear. “I’ll tell you everything.”

“Okay.”

Kara sighed and scooped Lena up, easily taking her weight in her arms. Lena yelped and hugged tight around her, clinging close and pressing cheek to cheek. Kara wanted to kiss her so bad that it ached in her chest, throbbed in her veins, but she didn’t. She carried her to the couch.

“Wait,” Lena said. “Can’t I sleep in the bed with you? I promise I won’t try anything.”

Kara nodded, mentally wincing. She carried Lena around to the bed and laid her down, drawing the blankets over her and settling her head on the pillow.

She had a choice to make her. The right thing to do, the honorable and chivalrous thing, would be to go sleep on the couch. She knew that, but the very idea of it was anathema to her.

To her credit, she stepped out of the bedroom to change and she put on pajama bottoms.

Kara took the far side of the bed, staring straight up. She didn’t expect to sleep a wink, but somehow she drifted off.

When she woke up, there was a weight on her. She looked down and found Lena pillowed on her chest. With a sigh, Kara rolled onto her side and drew Lena close, sheltering the other woman in her arms. In sleep she looked peaceful, so free of the worries and fears and anxieties that dogged her when she was awake.

Kara knew she should stop stroking Lena’s hair, knew she should let go of her, but the soft, hypnotic beat of Lena’s heart was nothing she could escape. She held Lena a little tighter, her own heart fluttering when Lena murmured her name on her sleep and hugged her back.

They woke up like that, Lena tucked in close under Kara’s chin. Lena was already awake when Kara woke up.

“Hi,” said Lena.

“Hey. Are you okay?”

“Head hurts.”

“I’ll get you something,” Kara said, starting to rise.

“Oh no you don’t,” said Lena, tugging her back down. “You said you were going to tell me everything.”

Kara froze.

“How much of last night do you remember?”

“I remember the part where I tried to climb you like a tree and you bridal-carried me to bed and tucked me in,” said Lena. “And the part where you started hugging me like a teddy bear.”

“You started that.”

Lena snorted. “Why didn’t you kiss me?”

“Like I said, you were drunk, and I can’t… not until I… you don’t know everything.”

Lena sighed, looking away, and then looked up.

“So, truth then. Are you Supergirl?”

Kara flinched back, momentarily struck numb. If she was asking that, it meant she knew the answer.

Lena stared at her hopefully, almost pleadingly, her big pretty eyes sparkling with unshed tears. She bit her lip and Kara melted, feeling herself turn to goo.

“Yes.”

Lena let out a long sigh of blessed relief, closing her eyes.

“Lena?”

“It’s my turn. I pick truth.”

“Okay, um,” said Kara, “why did you ask me why I didn’t kiss you?”

Lena rolled her eyes. “Because you’ve been staring at me like I’m a bowl of potstickers for years, and I was wondering if you were ever going to make a move.”

“Why would I look at you like you’re food?”

“I meant you were looking at me like I’m something you want to eat, Kara.”

“I’m not that kind of alien.”

Lena tensed, breathing sharply as she looked stunned and a little hurt.

“Wait,” Kara blurted, “oh Rao that was a joke, I didn’t mean I don’t want to… I really do want… I just , I’m… I don’t know what to say now.”

“I’m in love with you,” Lena sighed.

Kara froze. “You… you’re… with me… IIloveyoutoo.”

The mashed-together declaration had barely escaped her lips when Lena lunged closer and kissed her. From there it was pure chaos. Lena pulled and Kara followed, rapidly ending up on top of her as she shimmied out of last night’s outfit.

Kara pulled back from a soul-burning kiss as she felt the heat of Lena’s bare skin under her hands.

“Wait,” she said. “If I picked truth last night, what would you have asked?”

Lena smirked.

“Why do you stare at my chest all the time?”

Kara laughed, snorting a little.

“I’ll show you.”

#supercorp #supergirl fanfiction #supergirl #supercorp fanfic #lena luthor #kara danvers #kara x lena #karlena #supergirl fanfic #ficlet #love confessions #identity reveal #softcorp #drunk Lena #chivalrous Kara #Kara Danvers is a knight in shining armor #Kara respects consent #Lena has a naughty side #cuddlecorp

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bbokicidal · 4 months ago

Text

"You'll Do Great." | SKZ [S.C.] & [K.S.]

Pairing : Boyfriend!Seo Changbin x Reader | BestFriend!Kim Seungmin x Reader Genre : Fluff Warnings : None Notes : The person that requested this is top tier for requesting it specifically for my bias & wrecker. You're so real, tysm. These are written as shorter blurbs/what he plans for you and how he handles your nerves.

Summary : When you're nervous for your first day at a new job tomorrow, your boyfriend/best friend takes notice of your anxious habits and finds a way to calm you down.

Changbin -

He'd noticed pretty much immediately after the call that you'd received how nervous you'd gotten. Sitting in the studio together and watching as you bounce your leg and answer the call; The smile on your face is more than enough to make him a bit giddy in return. He feeds off of your happiness constantly - it's as if it's infectious to him.

But as the phone call ends and you tell him you'd gotten the job you were hoping for, the two of you share a soft hug before he rubs a hand over your back and questions if you were excited for your first training day. And as the realization settles in, your smile gradually fades.

Of course you were excited to start this job; You'd wanted it for a while now but now that it was in your palms, what if you fucked up? What if you did something wrong and they decided to go with a different candidate instead? What if you weren't what they actually wanted for the job?

Changbin cocks a brow at your lingering silence and stands, bringing your attention back to him as he pushes in the desk chair. "Come on, we're heading out."

Not one to question your boyfriend, you nod and grab your jacket before following him out. "Where are we heading? Home, or did he have to stop by the--"

"We're going out for dinner. My treat." He turns to look at you as he makes his way through the maze that is the jYP company building.

You blink a bit in surprise, the promise of free food a tempting ordeal. "Okay..-!"

He decides to treat you to a nice meal as preparation for the following day. Taking you to a BBQ place and renting out a small room for just the two of you to sit in, he pays for it all with a smile on his face and lets you order whatever the Hell you want. Grilling the meat himself and making sure to feed you the first few pieces that come off, the two of you relax when you sit and it seems your nerves for the new job have completely dissipated from the enjoyment of food.

Sharing a meal with him was always nice, but it was even better when he was giggling with you the entire time and making such nice conversation that you didn't have a moment to worry about the job. By the end of the night as the two of you are heading home, his hand lays over your thigh in the passenger seat and he spares you a shy smile - even if he's been your boyfriend for almost two years now.

"You're going to do great, you know that? You're gonna slay this new job."

"Okay, Bin. Thank you, but please don't ever say slay again." You giggle, tangling your fingers with his in your lap.

Seungmin -

"Quit it."

"But it's gonna be awfuuuuul." You whine, dragged by the sleeve out of the apartment building and down the sidewalk towards the corner store. "What if they don't like my art style? I mean I know they looked at my portfolio to like, hire me and everything but--"

Seungmin whips his head back to look at you and you hush up immediately, watching the way his lips quirk upwards at the corners as he turns back around. He continues walking, grip loose on your sleeve before eventually falling away with you at his side. Seeming happy that you'd complied and hadn't tried to run back to his dorm as safety from the biting chill of the night, Seungmin pulls open the door to let you in first.

And then promptly cuts you off to step inside instead.

It makes you laugh, following him in and wandering behind him to find snacks. A few bags of chips are picked up along the way around the store, one soda for you and an iced americano for him, along with a small packet of candies he'd found somewhere in there. He turns to take everything from your hands, placing it on the counter and tugging his card from the back of his phone to pay.

"No more sulking." He demands in a soft tone, voice lower at being in a public place. His head tips to peek at you and you feel heat creep to your cheeks at his eyes being on you, nodding curtly and diverting your attention to a candy bar nearby.

He taps his card against the reader before sliding it back into his phone case and taking the bag of snacks. You follow along like a puppy lingering behind, trailing back a bit until he pauses ahead and waits for you to be back by his side.

"I said no sulking," He looks to you, lips pressed together in a thin line.

"I know, I'm just nervous."

"I know." He blinks. "I was nervous too when I started this job. But everything went okay, even if there were times I wanted to give up or just quit. And I fucking rule at my job now, don't I?"

You peek up at him, voice quieting as if you'd get bodyslammed by a passerby if you said it too loud. "Of course you do. You're one of the best performers I know, Min--"

"Exactly." He stops, causing you to stop as well. And leaning down, he grips you by the jaw so you can't pull away when he leans in closer. "And you're one of the best artists I know. So?"

You hesitate, knowing he expects you to finish the analogy on your own. "I'm gonna.. fucking rule at this new job."

"Damn right you are." Seungmin nods firmly before dropping his hand and beginning to walk again. "Come on, pretty girl. We got shit to do. Shit being watching movies all night while Felix rages at LOL."

Your lips quirk into a shy smile as you linger, following after soon enough and running to catch up with him. He lets you hold onto his arm as you make the walk back, and though he isn't quite sure when his hand slipped down to hold onto your own - he definitely wasn't going to mention it or complain.

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #skz imagine #changbin x reader #seungmin x reader #skz fluff #stray kids fluff

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zegrasdrysdale · 1 year ago

Text

[ christmas cookies ] j. hughes

day three of malia’s christmas fic marathon

paring : Jack Hughes x fem!reader

summary : (Y/N) and Jack make a bit of a mess in the kitchen when they bake Christmas cookies since they’re both home because of the snow

warning(s) : some sexual content and language, implied sex. mainly fluffy tho :)

author’s note : i KNOW this is very late according to the schedule i put out but it was my birthday weekend so i didn’t have much down time to write or post anything. i think day four is coming at some point during the day tomorrow so keep an eye out for that

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"Jack!" (Y/N) yells as she runs back into the bedroom. "Jack. Baby, it's snowing and I don't have to go to work." She happily jumps on her side of the bed and crawls up to her sleeping boyfriend. Jack lets out a groan when she lays herself on top of him. She's like a happy puppy.

Jack mumbles an "it's early" and doesn't open his eyes.

She frowns and sits up on his waist. "It's snowing," she tries again. "I think you promised me that you would bake cookies with me next time it snowed since we would both be home all day." When Jack doesn't move, she begins to jump up and down on her knees like she's riding him. "Jack Hughes, get your cute ass out of bed and make cookies with me!"

His hands fly to her waist and stops her. "(Y/N)," he slurs. "Keep doing that and I will not make cookies with you. I will be making babies with you."

"Sounds good to me either way," she teases. That gets Jack to open one of his eyes. (Y/N) smiles. "Tell you what. If you make cookies with me then we can come back to bed and we can do whatever you want to me. I can still walk so obviously we didn't do enough last night."

Jack to flies out of bed butt ass naked from the previous night. (Y/N) laughs and watches him put on a pair of sweatpants and one of his Devils t-shirts before practically sprinting to the kitchen. She follows him in one of his larger Devils t-shirts that has his number on the chest and a pair of tiny shorts underneath.

The messy hair while Jack runs around their kitchen to grab what he considered cookie ingredients. "Baby, you can barely cook broccoli," she comments as she walks toward him. "I don't think you know how to bake cookies."

Jack's head snaps up. "Hey, I'm still learning," he snaps. "Get over here and help me get cookie stuff together."

She laughs and helps him out. She pulls out bowls, spoons, and the baking pan that will need to be used to actually bake the cookies.

The kitchen island is filled with different dry and wet ingredients and utensils that will need to be used to make the cookies without making a complete mess out of their kitchen.

Honestly, the kitchen will still probably end up being a mess because that's the way the two of them work. They're a messy couple and all of their friends know it. It's why their friends refuse to make food with them. Something always happens and food ends up everywhere.

(Y/N) pulls a chocolate chip cookie recipe up on her phone while Jack puts on some music so it's not dead silent while they're baking. He settles on Christmas music since it is technically Christmas Eve. She smiles to herself.

Jack comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her waist while she's leaning over the counter. She can feel his semi press against the top of her thigh right under her ass. "Jack, behave," she warns him. He definitely didn't take the warning seriously since she's smiling at how needy he is.

His love language is definitely physical touch, and she loves it.

The first step in baking cookies is mixing the dry ingredients together before incorporating the wet ingredients. In the biggest bowl, (Y/N) lets Jack measure and put in the flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. She works on the butter, granulated sugar, and brown sugar in a mixing bowl.

While she begins to mix the eggs and vanilla in with the creamed butter and sugars, a white powder hits her in the face. She blinks until her eyes are clear and hears Jack laugh at her side.

"You're an ass," she tells him as she wipes the flour away from her eyes. Jack is leaning back against the counter as he laughs. "I didn't want to make a mess, Jack.

"You were an easy target," he tells her with a smile. "I couldn't help myself."

She blinks at him before she grabs a handful of flour and throws it in Jack's face. He coughs and wipes his own eyes. "That was deserved."

Jack looks at her. The white powder is all over his face and in his hair. She smiles, proud of her retaliation. She barely has time to react before Jack throws another handful of flour at her. He barely misses her face and she throws another handful at him.

They're both laughing and running around the kitchen throwing flour at each other. Jack catches her in his arms and she squeals.

He picks her up by her waist and spins her around until her waist is pressed against the counter. They're both covered in a layer of flour but she smiles up at him. Jack brushes some of the flour out of her hair and off her face.

“There’s my pretty girl,” he softly says.

His little name for her makes her heart jump in her chest. Her eyes meet his and she surges up to press her flour covered lips to his. Jack immediately kisses her back and presses her waist against the counter.

Her fingers are gripping his t-shirt. Her pinkies touch the skin on his waist and a jolt of electricity goes down to her core.

One kiss and she’s aching for him.

(Y/N) is the one to break the kiss and Jack chases her lips.

“Can we please put these together and in the oven so we can go shower?” (Y/N) asks when she pulls back from the kiss. She suddenly wants to get these cookies made so she can get back in bed with her boyfriend.

It’s insane that all Jack said was ‘there’s my pretty girl’ and she’s weak at the knees for him and kissing him while they’re both covered in flour.

Jack nods and they rush to finish making the dough so they can put the cookies in the oven. Jack starts doing the dishes while (Y/N) puts the baking sheet in the oven with the balls of dough on it.

As soon as the timer is set, she grabs his hand and they walk to their bathroom. “I was cleaning the dishes,” Jack protests.

“And now you’re going to clean yourself,” she retorts.

(Y/N) closes the bathroom door behind them. Jack’s eyes are on her as she turns the shower on.

She turns around to face her flour covered boyfriend. “Are you going to get naked or are you going to stand there and look pretty?” she asks.

“Oh I am so going to keep making messes in the kitchen if it means getting to shower with you,” he comments as he begins to undress. “You’re going to keep your promise and let me do what I want, right?”

“As soon as the cookies are done.”

༺═──────────────═༻

yourusername

liked by lhughes_06, jackhughes, and 1,982 others

yourusername someone decided to make a mess in the kitchen then distract me so we had to remake the cookies since they got burnt

view all 291 comments

trevorzegras can’t trust a hughes in the kitchen

yourusername fr

lhughes_06 so rude trevor

_quinnhughes i hope the cookies were good

jackhughes eh. the chocolate chip ones were probably better

yourusername the world may never know

jackhughes not my fault you look so damn fine baking cookies. even when you were fully clothed, i was distracted

nicohischier jack calm DOWN

lhughes_06 that’s disgusting bro

jackhughes LOOK AWAY LUKE. NOT FOR CHILDREN’S EYES

dawson1417 lmaoooo

yourusername can you stop traumatizing your brother

colecaufield damn he hit you with the flour huh

tysmith_06 can he cook broccoli yet ?

yourusername nope

jackhughes what the fuck

༺═──────────────═༻

MAIN MASTERLIST

have a request ? check out the guidelines !

wanna be added to the taglist ? fill out this form !

taglist : @dancerbailey3 @dasiysthings @axaslee

#hockey imagines #hockey imagine #hockey fanfiction #hockey fic #hockey oneshot #nhl imagines #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl fic #nhl oneshot #jack hughes #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x reader #malia’s christmas marathon

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 1 month ago

Text

Study Buddy 4

Warnings:this series will include dark elements which may include bullying, noncon or dubcon, or violent behaviour. Mind the warnings.

Summary: a group project leads to a tense partnership.

Character: Walter Marshall

Big thanks to those who read! Feedback always helps inspire and you know I’m always happy to chat about possibilities! Please reblog and comment ❤️

“She’s sleeping, fever’s still there,” you say as you ease the door shut behind you.

As you come down the hall, Walter puts his phone away. He sighs. His curls are mussed from his stressed ruffling. He looks even more grumpy than usual. At least, what you know to be his usual.

“Right,” he sighs. “Just called the captain...”

“Captain? You military?” You ask before you can stop yourself.

“Detective. Left the force a while back,” he sniffs. “I can’t exactly call in, you know?”

You nod awkwardly. You’re not sure what to do and you know better than to say anything. He barely appreciates your opinions on fiction, let alone his life decisions.

“You know, when she was a kid. A real kid, small one, I'd put her in the back seat with her teddy and blanket. Drive her around with me. She slept like a rock...” he shakes his head. “It’s too cold and she’s too sick. Too big for that now.”

You fold your hands behind you. You don’t feel too bad for him, but you feel awful for Faye. She’s old enough to take care of herself but she’s in such a state, she should be left to.

“Well, I don’t work tomorrow. I could—uh, I just realised how presumptuous--”

“What?” He asks desperately. “You’ll stay with her?”

His expression changes in an instant. Hope, concern, the face of a father. You nod.

“Sure, I could,” you shrug. “I mean, I’ll keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t get worse.”

“Really?” He asks.

“She’s really sick,” you say. “And I mean, you’re a cop. That’s a hell of a lot more important than what I do. Oh, I’ll even finish the report. A draft of course, I'll let you edit out all my mistakes.”

He nods and scratches his beard, “hm, alright. I guess... you don’t got any priors and you look harmless enough.”

“Wait? You don’t trust me?”

“I just said--”

“Priors? Did you... Did you look into me?”

“If I’m going to bring someone into my house, I’m doing a background check,” he says nonchalantly. “Don’t worry, you passed.”

“I’m not so sure about that. I pocketed a tootsie roll at the corner shop when I was eight. Maybe I should just go--”

“I was just being safe. She’s my daughter,” he insists.

“I know, I look like a criminal,” you go and grab your bag.

“Please--”

“Relax, I’m not going anywhere. Faye didn’t run a search on me,” you say. “I’m just grabbing my phone charger.”

“Oh, right,” he drawls.

“So uh, I’ll just work on that paper then. You probably gotta get ready soon, huh?”

“Right about now, yeah,” he grumbles and rubs behind his ear.

“Cool, I’ll get back to it,” you go to the table and plug the cord into the outlet behind the chair.

You plug in your cell then turn the laptop towards you. You pay Walter no mind as you review the paragraphs he added in your absence. Or you try not to notice him. He looms and you feel the heat of his gaze on you, for about a minute before he disappears down the hall.

You focus on your task. You might as well get the report out of the way. Faye won’t sleep very long. You can’t let her either. You have to make sure that fever doesn’t get any higher. You’re no nurse or anything but you know that at least. Writers do tend to have peculiar search histories. Even aspiring ones.

The night promises you little rest. You’re a bit disappointed. You hope for a break to refresh a bit. You can’t be too upset, you should feel lucky you’re not sick as a dog.

Walter returns. He smells like pine and mint. He moves around the kitchen wordlessly. He opens a few cupboard before nearing the table.

“Kid likes grape soda, there’s lots in the fridge. Some mac and cheese in the cupboard if you feel up to it,” he offers.

“No problem. I think I’ll probably just finish this then deal with my other assignments. More than enough to last the night,” you assure him. “Uh...” you sit back and look at him. “Good luck?”

His brows furrow, “thanks. Well, I’ll be off. Call me if you need anything.”

“Sure,” you agree and go back to typing.

He grunts and stomps off. He rustles around in the entryway as you try to concentrate on the half-finished sentence before you. Even as the door shuts and the lock grinds, you find it hard to add anything. This is weird. You definitely didn’t expect this.

Another hour and you call it quits. It’s good enough. Besides, he will be sure to make it perfect. At least, to his standard.

You get up and stretch. You pace around restlessly then go to check on Faye. You were never much of a babysitter. The few times you did so, you felt wildly incapable. You tap on the door before you enter.

She’s awake but groggy. You touch her forehead. She’s still hot but not feverish. You’re relieved. You bring her some more water then leave her to rest some more.

Your keep your ears pricked as you go back to the kitchen table. You open up another course and work your way through the lesson. It won’t be so bad if you can even get ahead of schedule.

You cup your chin as your eyes turn fuzzy. You blink and make your vision clear. You can do this. There’s nothing else you can do. You gotta make it through the night, make sure Faye is okay. With how Walter gets about novels, you can’t imagine what would happen if you failed at this.

You yawn and rub your temples as you try to shake some life into yourself. You get through the lesson and submit your discussion response. You go into the assignment then start to plot out your project. The clock ticks by.

Nine turns into midnight before you stop again. You stand and jump around, getting your blood going. You look in on Faye again. She needs tissue and tea. Does he not have any honey? You leave that with her as she scrolls dully through Tiktok.

In the kitchen, you stare at the blinking cursor. You don’t get much done. Your brain clogs with molasses. Your eyelids droop. 2am. You blink. 2:07. Blink. 2:22.

You don’t realise you're asleep until you wake up. The smell of coffee tickles your nose and draws your head up with a gasp. You wipe the drool from your cheek and feel the imprint of the table’s edge on your skin. You bat away the glossiness in your eyes as Walter stands on the other side of the laptop.

“Oh, hi.”

“Morning,” he says as he puts down one of the plain paper cups. “Coffee.”

“Uh, thanks,” you glance at the cup. “Er... Faye’s fever broke. I think she’s feeling better. I must have... must have dozed off.”

“That’s fine,” he says.

“So I guess...” you stand and close your laptop. “I should get out of your hair. Finally.”

“No hurry. If you need to sleep, there’s the couch,” he offers. You hesitate. You look at him and his cheek ticks. “What?”

“Hm? Nothing. That’s nice of you.”

“I can be nice.”

“I didn’t say--” you begin to argue. “I know. Thanks for the coffee.”

You wrap up your charging cord and scoop up your phone and laptop, balancing the cup in your other hand. You turn and groan at the stiffness in your hips. Oof, those chairs are not forgiving.

He follows you like a shadow as you head for the door. “I am nice,” he insists.

You look up as you put the cup on the corner table and pack up your bag, “I know. First draft is done.”

He huffs. “Thank you.... you know, for keeping an eye on her.”

“Oh, it’s no problem,” you assure him as you go to pull on your shoe, only to nearly tip over. “Oomph.”

“Look, you shouldn’t go right away. I can see you’re beat, so why don’t you get a few hours in. Buses don’t come out this way more than once an hour before ten.”

You look at him again. He crosses his arms, his thick chest bulging beneath. Is he suggesting or commanding? It’s hard to tell with him. And you are exhausted.

“I don’t want to bother.”

“If it was a bother, I wouldn’t offer,” he retorts.

“Oh, of course, I guess...”

“I’ll get you a blanket,” he spins and marches off before you can finish your sentence. You never said yes.

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #study buddy #night hunter #au #drabble #series

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mediumgayitalian · 8 months ago

Text

“Can I come over tomorrow?”

Nico’s hands still on the stubborn pillowcase. “To…my cabin?”

“Yes.”

“Um.” He resumes, sliding slowly away from Will’s wide round eyes, stuffing the puffy square of feathers into its fabric prison. The ghost of geese past are not happy with him. He is their prince. They will submit. “Yeah? You could all those other times, too.”

“Yeah, but I want to come over.”

“Yes,” Nico agrees, wondering if this is perhaps one of those moments Kayla warned him about. Has it reached day five of Will not sleeping? He doesn’t think so. He was napping when Nico came into the infirmary this morning to help with the tidying he promised to do. At least he was drooling enough that Nico hopes he was sleeping. “You mentioned.”

“So I can?”

“Yes, Will.”

Maybe it’s just an American thing. Nico has been noticing some Moments lately. He’s not sure if all teenagers have unanimously decided on some code they’d like to speak in during the few months he was busy defeating his great grandmother, or if maybe he’s finally stuck around long enough to notice, but nobody says what they mean, nowadays.

(He has gathered, thus far, that ‘on fleek’ is a synonym for ‘aflame’, although ‘yeet’ continues to evade him. Perhaps because Cecil and Lou appear to have indulged in the sick delight of replacing their every word with the term with the sole purpose to Confuse. Or perhaps, as Will has so indicated, they have each endured one concussion to many and are beyond any hope.)

“Sick!” That one Nico knows, at least. “I’ll come by after my morning shift? Connor got cursed by the Hypnos, Hecate, and Aphrodite cabins this morning so I have to do brain surgery before he forgets how to feel genuine human connection again, but I’ll be done by noon. Probably. I mean, Connor has a thick skull, genuinely I mean, which is why his lobotomy has been delayed so many times, but so long as I —”

It has been under Nico’s notice lately that Will eyes, genuinely, sparkle. He has read the cliche time and time again and rolled his eyes almost every time: diamonds sparkle. Water sparkles. Snow sparkles. Eyes reflect, and sometimes glow with reflection. They do not sparkle. To claim a set of eyes are sparkling is to profess to the world and all capable of registering your words that you are a brainless idiot who cannot dredge up from the depths of your mind, the most barren and bereft back corners, a single unique or clever comparison; a minutely original way to describe excitement or animation.

And yet.

Will is indeed very animated, and very excited about very many things, and it shows on his face; in the wideness of his grins, the springing mass of his curls, the stilted and flailing gilt of his languid limbs. It also shows, perhaps most obviously, in his genuinely magnificent eyes — Nico has seen the Logan Sapphire. He has touched the precious thing with reverent hands, stared in awe as it thrust out the light shine upon it like the golden ichor of Ouranous swirling with the sweet saltwater to birth Love Incarnate. He knows glittering, he knows gleaming, shimmering and shining and twinkling.

Will’s eyes sparkle, like the very tip of a mountaintop, like the crackling ends of a flame, like dewdrops on spider silk. It is transfixing. It is alluring.

“—ico. Nico! Hello-o?”

It is also a trap.

“Sounds great,” Nico says loudly, voice like cold soda over vanilla ice cream. He clears his throat, twice, to no avail. His vision begins to blur as the heat pouring off of his face warps the air. “Um. See you then?”

Will nods, or at least Nico hopes he does. His curls bounce, anyway. They are hard to miss. They remind Nico tangentially of how laughter sounds, unimpeded by shame; how the shimmering satin of a ribbon would curl and bend under the smooth slide of the scissor’s blade.

(His father’s circuit of jesters often included poets playwrights. They also doubled as Nico’s babysitters. Surely no lasting consequences, that.)

“Yes!” He flashes a smile, then, and it becomes imperative to note that his eyes squint at the force of it, and his slightly-too-big teeth brush his bottom lip, and he has, in fact, on each cheek, a dimple.

Now, Will is often and even frequently called Apollo Junior by just about every living soul in camp, up to and including Immortal Camp Director And Horse, Chiron; and uproariously once even Mr D, God of Wine. Allegedly, as taunted by Kayla, even by Will’s own mother. The golden hair and unfortunate habit of winking and legs for days do most definitely create an image.

Nico, however, contrarian he be, must deny: he has seen Apollo. Apollo is beautiful and golden and charming, but Will is not quite his spitting image. Will, more aptly, is the son of the Sun. He glows; the glare of his smile leaves impressions behind in the cells one’s eyes, the glide of his limbs is almost dragging, languid. To look at him is to commit yourself to blinding. To seek so desperately the solace of the light as to ignore the unsettling sting of the burn.

“I can’t wait!”

As a blissful cloud moving in front of the solar system’s brightest star saves your eyes the eternal fate of darkness, Will’s duty so saves Nico from an eternity of shadow. He returns, humming softly and horribly, to his work, sifting through folders and updating patient files, and Nico exhales the breath setting foundations in his lungs, slumping forward in fervent relief. A melancholic reprieve from the summer rays, if only for a moment.

He waves goodbye, or at least he hopes that he does, rushing out the infirmary doors and tripping down the rickety porch steps.

“Hurrying somewhere, Nicholas Claus?” drawls Mr. D, throwing darts a perilously balanced apple atop the horns of a satyr bleating in morse code.

“That was not even an attempt,” responds Nico, and hurries away before he can be dolphinized. Dolphinified? Made into a bottle-nosed beast. (Why bottle? Of all comparisons to make, who decided bottles were the utmost separate object to which the snout of the slippery beasts should be named? Oh, wait, drunk people. Bottles. Okay. Mystery solved.)

He manages, in his heroic retreat across the common, not to destroy entire swathes of grass and plants, a feat for which the Muses could perhaps write epics about. Truly he is capable of the utmost restraint and self-control. He does raise several full sized wolf skeletons, but they seem primarily preoccupied with hunting down the the Stolls, so a win-win as far as Nico is concerned. Probably not for Connor, who is apparently cursed or concussed, he doesn’t remember exactly, but he has managed thus far with his startling amount of daily braincell loss so by statistic and happenstance he is bound to survive another incident.

“There has to be away to shut myself off,” Nico says, out loud to himself, proceeding the slam of his cabin door and the heavy breathing upon it. He turns to his altar. “You mentioned an off button, Father. I don’t suppose it has been successfully implemented.”

No answer comes forth. He indulges in a brief moment of self pity, wherein the Nico who lives in his brain clears his throat, digs around the messy confines of his mind to find an imaginary black hoodie, slips it on, digs around again for a dagger, and stabs himself, choking and twitching pitifully. Real Nico then walks with great purpose to the exact geological centre of the stone cabin.

“Okay,” he says again. He nods, once, narrowing his eyes in determination. The Nico in his brain opens one curious eyelid. (Does Will do psychiatric assessments?) “Okay, this is. Hm.”

It is not the first time they have been alone together, after all.

In the weeks following Gaea’s defeat and Will Solace’s nonstop, irritating persistence, Nico has been thrust in his proximity an incredible number of times. From his three day stay, during which he was simply so unconscious for so long his father was concerned enough to manifest onto the mortal plane and poke at his soul until he responded, to his unofficial indoctrination (ha) as a nurse, to camp clean-up efforts, to cabin renovation, to general life — they have become friends. Coworkers, at least. Together they make the camp a little more bearable for everyone in it, including Nico. It is rewarding work. It is illuminating work; Will is a good teacher, and he is funny, and he is good company (and he happens to have very long legs that he does not bother to cover up very often and Nico has eyes that do what they please). They have been in Nico’s cabin together several times over the last few weeks.

Never before has Will come over without some kind of stated purpose.

At least, not and absence he has made so obvious. True, the renovations took longer than expected, and the paint on the east wall is smudged from where Nico shoved Will, shrieking, off the stepstool, and they have perhaps, on occasion, used Nico’s illegal Wii when they were meant to be helping Annabeth make plans for Capture the Flag, but —

But.

Intent.

Is important.

It has been made abundantly clear to Nico over the summer that he has friends upon which he can rely. Reyna has made a point to Iris Message him at whatever Roman tryhard time she believes he should be awake, prompting an attempted murderous shadow travel that left him unconcious in Missouri and at the unfortunate end of many people’s shouting. And Will’s friends, who can perhaps at this point be called his friends also, have created a game entitled “How Many Grapes Can We Flick At Nico During Lunch Before He Goes Ballistic And Sends Us To Purgatory For A Little While” (four), which they are inclined and inspired to play every Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday. Piper enjoys dragging him around to do Things. Jason is just around constantly. (Does he sleep? Nico should check on that properly.)

He had a point, somewhere. He’s sure he did.

It was maybe the impending anxiety attack, helpfully informs Brain Nico.

“Ah,” regular Nico replies, then grapples around for his least favourite pillow, slams it into his face, and screams at the top of his lungs for several minutes.

Brain Nico decides once again that commentary is the way.

I think we are an all powerful demigod of something, he muses. Dirt, maybe? Bad vibes? I can’t quite remember.

“The dead?” inquires regular Nico.

Do you think those years isolated in the Labyrinth perhaps situated us firmly on the shores of mentally unwell? responds he, blissfully unhelpful.

“I think that was Tartarus, actually,” says regular Nico, and promptly banishes his brain self to the deepest recesses of his mind, among memories of the taste of liquid fire and Calculus.

With the remaining, functioning (well.) part of his brain, he places both palms on the cool floor and attempts to focus.

Juicy Fruit It gets right to ya Juicy salt Hmmm Juicy Fruit, The taste the taste that’s —

For the love of all holy things, Nico begs his brain. It doesn’t work, but what ever really goes right in his life, so he pushes past the increasingly louder replays of eighties commercial jingles and maps out the ground below the cabin floor, pushes through the layers of underground.

Ah. Perfect.

He pulls up the very aptly placed skeleton of a cat, letting it scratch and sniff about his cabin before cautiously approaching him.

“You will be sure to tell it to me straight,” Nico says solemnly, holding out his hand. The cat bobs its nasal cavities in and out of Nico’s fingers and, apparently deciding him to be worthy of its attention, rams its skull against his knuckles. Nico snorts, running a fingernail along its cranial sutures and grinning as its purring echoes in his mind. “You seem very wise.”

The cat’s caudal vertebrae rattle in indignation, miffed at the mere idea that it could be anything other than wise. Nico is honestly quite impressed by its ability to glare without actual eyeballs, eyelids, or thought power.

“I am going to name you after my sister and pray that’s not weird,” Nico says. “I mean, I don’t think she would mind. You’re pretty cool, actually, and Hazel’s cool, kind of, so. Win win.”

Hazel the Cat seems unbothered by her christening, curling up in Nico’s lap. He runs his hand from cranial base to coccyx, finger dipping and bumping along the ridges of her spines, and settles against the cool floor, attempting to breathe evenly.

“It’s just.” He swallows. It takes a try or two, to work around the massive stone borrowed in his throat, and Hazel the Cat nips playfully at his fingers until his lungs settle again. “Before we had something to do, you know? We’d be cutting bandages, and he’d be all, hey, did you know bandages are mentioned in one of the first ever medical manuscripts and definitely predate it by many hundreds of years, and I would say I did, actually, I talked to the guy who made that clay tablet, and his eyes would get all wide and he’d be like no way, tell me everything, and then I would just talk forever.” Nico huffs. “We had something to talk about, you understand. Something to do.”

Nico tries to imagine what Hazel his Sister would say. Probably something along the lines of you are an impossible person, which is code for I have about as much luck as you do in this century, pal, the best I’ve got is hope for the best and remember adults no longer smack you for standing wrong. Which. Fair.

Hazel the Cat just purrs in his head again. It’s as encouraging as anything, he supposes.

“Am I supposed to have…conversation starters? He likes twizzlers and intentionally bad poetry. Maybe I could do something with that?”

Hazel the Cat shrugs at him.

“It’s not even — okay, it’s not just that, though. What is — how close is close enough in a casual setting? Or too close? How am I meant to greet him? Am I supposed to offer something? Make something? What do I do if there’s a lull in conversation? Or if it’s all lulls? Oh, gods, how much silence is socially appropriate —”

Hazel the Cat twists in his hold, meeting his eyes as if to say well I don’t think you’ll be struggling with that last one.

“Shush,” he tells her, but his mouth is twitching. “I’m just — I don’t want him to finally realize I’m weird. Or boring, gods. He’s such a hyper person, you know? He never stops. And I am supposed to entertain him! I think!”

This time he can actually hear his sister’s voice, in the back of his mind — you’re such a dummy. Ringed with fondness from the many times she’s said it to him, shoulders nudged carefully together, head knocked gently against his. You are weird and boring. Most people are.

“Ugh,” he sighs, tipping his head back until it rests against the mattress. “Friendship is hard work.”

Hazel the Cat swishes her tail, rattling the discs of bone like a rattlesnake. It’s a surprisingly soothing sound, like rain pinging softly against his window, or the flutter of the poplar trees outside of his father’s palace. Unconsciously he matches his breathing to it, slowing until it’s even, gentle, deep. His eyes, without any direction from his brain, drift until they blanket his hazy eyes, heavy as stone..

“S’not that serious,” he murmurs to himself, soothed under the weight of his feline friend. “S’just Will, I guess.” A beat. He smiles, slightly, a small, curling thing, mimicking the coiled heat in his belly. “It’s just Will.”

———

part two

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everyandanything · 1 month ago

Text

I'm bored so I'm posting something from my wip folder that will never see the light of day otherwise lol.

Warning though: I wrote this forever ago and i don't think I had the characters nailed down yet (also not super edited just fyi).

Darry and Pony were fighting again.

It was the third time this week that they were at each other’s throats, and Soda couldn’t even remember what the fight was about this time. Pony’s grades? Missing curfew? They were all starting to blend together.

“When will you get it through that thick skull of your’s kid? I don’t know why you think I’ve got all this money stashed away that I’m hiding from you, but I don't. You can’t just spring needing a new pair of shoes before next week’s track meet on me and expect the money to just fall from the sky.”

Money, then. That’s right, Pony’s old shoes were falling apart, and he needed to get a new pair.

“But you did know Darry! They’re your shoes from high school. They don’t even fit, how do you expect me to run anything decent in them?” Ponyboy was getting real worked up, but so was Darry, for that matter. They’d both been keyed up something fierce this week, but neither of them would tell Soda why.

“Hey guys, I just finished up the mashed potatoes, you’ll never guess what color they are this time,” Soda cut in, trying to lighten the mood. But he might as well not even be there.

“You’ve been running this long in them and it hasn’t slowed you down none. Coach just said to me last week that you could get a scholarship, so I know new shoes won’t make that much of a difference.”

“You and that damn track scholarship,” Pony muttered, rolling his eyes. Soda didn’t think Darry was supposed to hear, necessarily, but Pony also didn’t shy away from his older brother’s glare.

“What the hell’s that supposed to mean? A scholarship could get you far kid, you got to look at the big picture—”

“There’s more to life than just sports, Darry! I don’t even know if I want a track scholarship. But I sure as hell know I don’t want to be lugging roofing around all day, and from where I’m standing, banking on a sports scholarship is a fast track to a life going nowhere.”

Soda’s mouth fell open at the words, shocked to hear something so cruel come from his baby brother. And from the look on Pony’s face, he was shocked too. Guilt was written all over his features as he reached out to his older brother.

“Shoot, I’m sorry Dar, I didn’t mean that. It’s just been a tough week, the Socs have been making my life a living hell. I didn’t mean to take it out on you.”

Soda chanced a glance at Darry, his expression broke Soda’s heart. There was a glassiness to his eyes that he knew his brother would never admit to, as he struggled to look anywhere but at his younger brother. He smiled at Pony’s apology, but Soda could tell it was strained.

He cleared his throat and said, “It’s fine, I get it.”

“Darry—”

But apparently, their brother didn’t want to hear it. “I’ll see what I can do about the shoes, alright? No promises though.”

Pony glanced over at Soda, alarm in his eyes. Soda knew the look matched his own, Darry never backed down so easily.

Unsure of what else to do, Soda cut in, “If you two are through bickering like two old women, you think you can sit down and eat? I slaved over these mashed potatoes.”

Pony headed towards him, but Darry shook his head. “I’m not that hungry, I think I might just turn in early tonight. Got a big day tomorrow.”

That was a load and Soda knew it, apparently, Pony did, too, because he said, “Come on Dar, don’t be like that. We all know you could eat the whole table after you get home from work.”

Darry finally looked towards them, and Soda could see it then. The cracks in his armor, the way he was barely holding it together. Darry hadn’t looked like this since right after their parents died and he’d had to fight to figure out how to keep their family together. Something was wrong, more than the fight with Pony, their brother’s harsh words had just been icing on the cake.

Soda wanted to do anything in his power to help his brother, but he didn’t know how. Darry gave him a pleading look then, and there was one thing, at least, Soda knew he could do.

“Lay off of him, Ponyboy. If he’s really that scared of pink potatoes, he doesn’t deserve them anyway.”

Pony glanced at him, “Pink, when’d you get pink food coloring?”

Soda gave him a look of mock confusion. “Who said anything about food coloring?”

Pony was clambering to go see his concoction, leaving Darry and Soda in the living room alone.

“You okay Darry?” He asked, voice quiet.

Darry blinked at him, He thought his older brother might say something, but he just shook his head. “I will be, Pepsi, I will be.”

Darry was already up sitting at the kitchen table, bills in hand, when Soda walked into the kitchen the next morning.

He looked older than Soda remembered. His skin worn, his eyes bloodshot. He reached a hand up to push his hair back and it trembled, just slightly. That never would have happened before.

He hated being the middle man between his brothers, but he’d do anything to help protect Darry. He knew Pony didn’t get it, not yet. But one day he’d look back and realize all that their brother had given up just to keep them together.

“You get any sleep, Superman, or have you been staring at those bills like they’re a romance novel all night?”

Darry tuned those tired eyes towards him, and there was just a second where the mask was down, where the look he gave Soda was so haunted and lost that he wanted to reach over and wrap his big brother in a hug and never let go, but he knew that Darry would hate him for it.

So Soda watched as Darry put himself back together and offered his little brother a tight smile. “Just trying to figure out how to make it all work, little buddy. Money is tight this month anyways, and now Pony’s gotta have new shoes for the season.”

Soda made his way over to the fridge, pulling out the chocolate cake. “Does he really need them right now? You said so yourself last night, he’s gotta pair already.”

“Sure, but they’re my old pair. They’re worn to hell. Not to mention they’re at least two sizes too big. He’s right, if he doesn’t have a better pair, there’s no way he’s going to be able to keep up with the other guys, he’ll be too busy tripping.”

“He could make do though, it’s just track.”

Darry shook his head. “But it’s not just track. The kid’s really good, I’ve seen him. He could get a scholarship, go to college somewhere, make something of himself.”

“But there’s no guarantee, and the odds of it being a full ride even if he does are slim. We can hardly afford this place, how are you gonna help him pay for room and board even if he does go?”

Darry sighed, it was a bone weary sound of a man twice his age, and Soda hated that he was giving him a hard time first thing in the morning.

“Sorry, I’m just trying to be realistic here, Darry. The kid’ll be fine if you don’t get him those shoes.”

“I’ve gotta at least give him a shot, I owe him that much. We’ll figure out the rest as it comes.”

He stood up, heading to the front door, Soda frowned.

“What about breakfast? You gotta be starving.”

Darry waved him off, “Maybe later, I’m running late.”

Soda glanced at the clock, he didn’t have to be at work for another hour. “What about your lunch, did you grab your bag?”

“I’ll get something on my way, I gotta go, Pepsi, see you tonight!”

And with that, Darry was gone. For some reason, Soda couldn’t get rid of that nagging feeling in the pit of his stomach that something wasn’t quite right. But then Pony came in, bleary-eyed and gunning for the chocolate cake, and Soda let himself forget.

It was well after midnight, and the gang was all curled up watching movies at the Curtis household.

It wasn’t often that they all stayed in, usually someone was to antsy, looking stir up trouble somewhere (that someone was usually Dally). But the game was on that night, and then Two-Bit got them caught up watching the Mickey cartoons, and the next thing Soda knew, they were all sitting around eating cake and watching movies. It was nice to hang back every once in a while, Soda decided. Maybe they went out too much anyway.

“Man, I can’t believe Darry missed that game, he’s gonna be kicking himself,” Two-Bit said.

Soda felt his heart skip a beat because Darry hadn’t ever been out this late before, not since their parents died. The guy hadn’t even taken a night out on the town, no matter how much Soda begged him. It’d been another reason he was alright staying home, just to make sure his brother got back okay.

“Maybe we can give him a hard time for being late, a taste of his own medicine and all that,” Pony mumbled.

Steve laughed. “Yeah, good luck with that pipsqueak, Superman would just catapult you into next year.”

Pony furrowed his brow, but they were all saved from the ensuing fight when the screen door finally opened. Relief flooded Soda, but it was short lived.

His brother was a wreck. His clothes coved in grime, disheveled in a strange way. He didn’t even seem to notice them sitting there, taking the tool belt off from around his waist and hanging it by the door, then pulling his shoes off, one by one, his hands still shaking like they had that morning.

“Damn, Superman, what the hell happened to you?” Two-Bit asked.

Darry blinked, seeming to notice them for the first time. But he just waved them off, not saying a word as he headed down the hall and beelined for the bathroom. A second later they heard the shower switch on.

They sat in silence for a moment, the mood soured to something uncomfortable. “Is he okay?” Leave it to Johnny to be the one to voice what they were all thinking.

“Sure he is, kid, fighting crime’s just a tough gig is all,” Two-Bit said, smirking, but he hadn’t taken his eyes off the bathroom door.

Dally broke the spell then, standing up and giving a large stretch. “Whatever man, it’s getting late anyways. If I don’t get home and get some sleep I’m gonna be useless tomorrow.”

“Yeah, because you do so much for the good of society now,” Steve muttered, and Dally really must have been tired, because usually that comment would have ended in a wrestling match.

“Watch your tone, Randle, or else I’ll pop your head off.”

“You guys can stay if you want, it’s late.” He offered, but really, he was glad to see them file out. Whatever Darry had going on, he wasn’t sure that he’d have the energy to keep up with the guys tonight, and Soda knew he’d try if they were still here.

The gang must have known it too, because they waved him off.

“If I don’t show up at my place at least once this week my mom might really throw me out this time,” Two-Bit said with a wink.

The guys started filing out, but Two-Bit paused at the door, leveling Soda with a look. He wasn’t sure why, but it made him feel nervous.

“Keep an eye out for your brother, all right? Call if you need anything.”

Soda laughed, trying for a joke. “You going soft on me, Mathews?”

But Two-Bit didn’t laugh. “Darry’s done a lot for me, if I can return the favor, I will in a heartbeat, you got that?”

Soda nodded, “Of course, Two-Bit, I get it.” And Soda did. The two were closest in age out of the whole group, and they’d been thick as thieves once upon a time. No one could keep Two-Bit’s head on straight quite like Darry could.

Two-Bit patted him on the shoulder, “ Good man, Soda. I’ll see you losers tomorrow!”

Pony and Soda were left alone with nothing but the sound of the shower to break the silence. It felt heavier without anyone there to distract him.

“You think Darry’s okay?” Pony asked him.

Soda gave him a smile, pulling his little brother in close. “Yeah, he’ll be alright. Just needs some food and a good night’s sleep is all.”

Pony frowned. “Doesn’t he have to go in tomorrow though? He’s gotta leave in four hours.”

Soda glanced at his watch, frowning. Ponyboy was right, Darry didn’t have the weekend off; he was going to run himself into the ground at this rate. “Well, let’s get him something whipped up real quick so he can go straight to bed, sound good?”

Pony nodded, “Better leave it to me, if he has another one of your science experiments for dinner it might be the final nail in the coffin.”

Soda gave him a shove, laughing, and finally he heard the shower turn off. He tried to busy himself in the living room, cleaning up the remains of the chocolate cake and straightening up after the guys. It was amazing how much of a mess they could make after such a mellow night. Finally the door to the bathroom creaked open, and Darry came out.

He looked a little more human than he had earlier, but he still had that empty look in his eye that Soda didn’t like.

“Hey Darry, you ready to eat? Pony’s whipping something up for you.”

It took Darry a minute to turn his gaze towards him, “Pony?” He asked, voice quiet.

It scared Soda. But he didn’t want to make too much of a deal out of it, not in front of their brother. “Yeah, come on.”

Darry shook his head. “I’m not hungry, I think I’ll just go to bed.”

Soda walked over to his brother and grabbed his hand. It was calloused over, nails bitten to the quick. When had he gotten so worn down?

“Come on Darry, please? It’ll hurt Pony’s feelings if you skip out on his meal.”

He knew he wasn’t playing fair, but he was really starting to worry. Darry nodded and let himself be led to the kitchen table. Ponyboy offered him a smile.

“Here you are Darry, mashed potatoes and some leftover chicken. And wonder of wonders, everything is a normal color!”

“And where’s the fun in that, kid brother? I mean, if you can’t have your dinner every color of the rainbow, then what’s the point?”

That, at least, brought a small smile out of Darry. He nodded, and took the plate from Pony, his hand only shaking slightly. But he didn’t eat any of the food on the plate, just stared at the mashed potatoes.

Soda was debating whether he should prod his brother again and try to get to the bottom of this when he finally spoke up.

“Oh, I almost forgot, I have something for you.”

Pony tilted his head, “Me? What for?”

Darry pulled out his wallet and handed Pony a twenty dollar bill. “This is for those shoes for track, go out and get you a pair tomorrow.”

Pony kept looking between him and the bill, dumbstruck, like he thought this was all some sort of joke. “You’re kidding.”

Darry shook his head. “You said you needed shoes, right? Well, that ought to get you a good enough pair to last a few years.”

“Darry, no way, this is too much.”

Darry gave him a look, and for a second, he almost looked like his normal self. “You want me to take it back? Because I can put it to good use myself, you know.”

“What, no way! It’s mine now!” Ponyboy said, laughing. “This is great! Me and Johnny can go pick a pair out tomorrow, I’ve been looking at the catalog for weeks.”

Ponyboy’s grin was so wide that his face nearly split in two. And Soda watched as Darry relaxed, just a fraction, for the first time all day. Whatever he’d had to do had been worth it. Darry finally picked up his own fork and began eating. Maybe, Soda thought, they’d be okay.

#the outsiders fanfiction #the outsiders #the outsiders musical #the outsiders 1983 #darry curtis #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #also please ignore the fact that there would be nothing on tv after midnight in the 1960s lol

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sickeninglyshoujo · 10 months ago

Text

a/n: here's gaz my beloved, only one more part to this self-indulgent series left and thats koni. tagging @ahopelesspedantic as she wanted to know whether gaz was on the way

part 1: simon here

part 2: price here

part 3: soap here

masterlist here

buy me a ko-fi

warnings: pregnancy

word count: 1.7k

With Gaz it’s a surprise

You hadn’t discussed children before, hadn’t discussed much of the future. With Gaz, you often lived in the moment. In the day to day, ignoring his future deployment dates in favor of tomorrow’s dinner date where he promised you takeaway and reality tv. Neither of you minded that. Especially with the nature of Gaz’s job.

You love Gaz the most when your legs are slung over his lap and hes commentating on the dumb military drama he insists on watching (“Tha’ bloke has the captain’s dick tickler.”) It feels so gently domestic it makes your heart hurt.

His face breaks into a grin when he sees you outside his door one rainy evening but it quickly falls when he sees your tear stained face.

“Lovie what’s wrong?” And that’s all it takes to send you falling into his broad chest and clinging to him before he can even wrap his arms around you, stunned at your reaction. You rarely cried and even more rarely was it in front of him.

“G-Gaz I f-fucked up!”

“Lovie?” He can barely make out the words from where you mumble them into his a-shirt.

You couldn’t bear to look at his face, instead preferring to push yours into his chest. Even in your current state you relaxed into him and became boneless, he’d always made you feel so safe with his biceps wrapped around your shoulders.

“‘M pregnant, Gaz,” you pressed yourself further into him, hoping his chest would open up and you could climb inside of him and ignore what a mess you’d made of things, of this perfect thing you had with Kyle.

“What was that, Lovie I can barely hear you?” He tries to gently pull you from your burrow.

You couldn’t say it again. Instead you reached into your coat pocket and pulled out the tests. A handful of them. You didn’t think you’d ever chugged so much water and juice and soda before, having to generate enough pee for all of them. The thought of any more liquid passing your lips nearly making you want to retch.

Gaz looked at the brightly colored sticks in your hands with pluses and smiley faces and the word ‘Pregnant’ on them and you could see the wheels turning

“I had to be sure before I told you that’s why there’s so many.”

“I’m gonna be a dad?”

You hadn’t even gotten to that thought yet, only that there was a tiny clump of cells somewhere inside of you and that Gaz had helped create it. You hadn’t been sure of how he’d take the news, only that you had to tell him and had driven to his apartment immediately to tell him. You hadn’t even considered that either you’d give birth to Gaz’s baby or…

“…yes”

“I’m gonna be a dad!” He pulled you back into his chest before lifting you off your feet and spinning you

Gaz took you out the next day to buy armfuls of pregnancy and baby books, beaming as the cashier rang up each one.

You began to spend your evenings with your head resting in Gaz’s lap as he read the baby books to you, scrolling aimlessly on your phone while he studied.

“Gaz you know you don’t need to read every baby book!”

“I have to, what if the baby quizzes me when they’re born!”

Has had your go-bag ready since week 20, packing it himself and surprising you one day when you found it on the ottoman in your bedroom.

You hadn’t recognized the sturdy black duffel and blanched when you saw it, thinking that this was finally his way of telling you he had reached his limit and was leaving you, that he couldn’t handle becoming a dad, that he hadn’t asked for any of this. Trembling fingers shook as you unzipped the duffel, hysterical giggles bursting out when you saw instead of his belongings neatly packed inside, were a tiny stack of colorful baby onesies and blankets folded to army regulations and nestled on top of sets of comfortable clothing for you as well.

“Lovie?” Gaz had been summoned by your giggling steadily rising in volume, and rounded the door to see you nearly in tears holding up a tiny and soft white onesie, “Lovie, is everything alright?” Concern painted his face making your tears of laughter fall harder.

Shopping for baby gear with Gaz is a treat. He stares at the car seat displays lining the wall, “Why would the car seat need to rotate? Isn’t the point that they stay still in them?”

You smack his arm, “It’s to make unloading them easier in the car!”

“Seems like an awfully stupid feature for it to cost $200 more than the one that doesn’t spin. Why does it have so many straps?”

“They’re supposed to keep the baby safe in case of a car crash by having more points of contact.”

“Seems rather stupid to plan for getting into a crash with a baby in the car.”

Gaz has gone from being your casual boyfriend with few strings attached to becoming a practical Mother Hen. He’s penciled every one of your appointments onto his calendar, taking leave on strategic weeks to ensure he makes the most important ones. He keeps a copy of the ultrasound in his breast pocket when he’s on duty, taking it out in the evenings he’s on base to look over the growing bundle, not noticing the creases and crinkles that were embedded in the thin paper.

When you enter labor he’s white as a ghost, but all business, gathering you and the baby bag, hustling you out the door and into his idling car. He breaks the speed limit on the way to the hospital and ignores your pleas to slow down, the contractions aren’t that close yet.

“Just gotta get there,” He keeps muttering to himself.

He lets you do the talking to the receptionist, lets the nurse wheel you through the hospital, close on her heels the entire time.

While you’re going through the routine medical history once you’re changed into a gown and settled into a bed, Kyle settles his forehead onto clasped palms.

“Kyle, it’ll be fine,” You coo at him, “Remember you were excited for this!”

“...Is it too late to use a condom?”

The nurse returns to the room because of your hysterical laughter bleeding all the way down the hall to the nurses station.

Kyle pointedly focuses on your face throughout the birth, petting back your hair from your face, not caring that its sticky and tangled from sweat.

“Hey there,” He coos at the baby bundled into your arms, “We’ve been waiting for you.”

“Kyle, he looks just like you,” You reach up and tug on his shirt collar, pulling him into a kiss, “Thank you.”

“For what , love?”

“For our baby.”

Kyle had gone from being a situationship to slotting himself into your life as a permanent fixture. He broke the lease on his apartment months before the baby was due and moved into yours. It warmed your heart to see his toothbrush in the cup next to yours, the satin pillowcase he gifted you when he realized you slept on cotton (“This is so much better for your hair and skin, lovie”), the empty mug from his tea he never rinsed and put into the washer and instead left in the sink.

You didn’t expect the matching red plaid christmas pajamas that Kyle bought you and the baby. You certainly didn’t expect him to also buy himself a set to match along with you and your son

“We have to make this memorable, it’s his first Christmas,” He explains trying to get the baby’s wiggling arms into the onesie.

“It’s our first Christmas too, you know!”

“Yeah, about that…The baby’s kind of your Christmas gift this year.”

You rolled your eyes, “Thanks Kyle, next year though I’d prefer a gift that doesn’t spit up on me when he hasn’t been burped.”

You hadn’t expected a gift from him as he had recently come home from a brief training stint on base. Regardless you bought some for your son (‘From Mom and Dad!’ penned onto them), excitedly watching as the near nine month old tear at the paper you had loosely draped over his presents.

Kyle had already opened his gift from you, a fancy cologne that he’d gotten earlier in a trial size that you loved when he wore, nuzzling deeply into his neck to smell it each time.

“Love, is this a present for me or for you?” He quipped, kissing the corner of your smiling mouth.

“For my nose and for your love of attention more like.”

“Thank you, dove.”

“Guess its time for your real gift now,” Kyle said.

“I thought our son was my gift,” You poke him in the ribs.

“It’s nothing much, just something I’ve been meaning to give you for a while now.”

“Kyle?”

He pulls a small box wrapped in cheery red paper with a gold bow on top of it from his pocket.

He notes the confusion on your face as you tear gently at a flap in the wrapping, “You really didn’t have to get me anything, Kyle.”

“Yeah, I did,” He says as the velvet of the box is revealed.

“Kyle?” You turn to him from staring at the box, you watch as he gets up from where he’s lounged on the couch with an arm slung over the back to kneeling in front of you.

He takes the still unopened box from out of your hands and opens it for you, “I know we’re doing things a bit out of order, having the baby first, but love, I want to do this the right way for you. Will you marry me?”

“Kyle!” You finally manage.

“Love, please answer me, I’m beginning to think you only want me for my sperm.”

“Kyle, you idiot, of course! Yes!” Tears are flowing now and you can barely see through them as he slips the ring onto your finger.

a/n: reblogs and comments feed me. talk to me about cod dads

#call of duty x reader #gaz x reader #kyle garrick x reader #gaz x you #kyle garrick x you #grave writes

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rylem33 · 2 days ago

Text

The Man Next Door

Sandra and Chloe sat together on the couch, the noise of the TV humming in the background. Sandra held a mug of tea, wearing a simple cardigan over her favorite blouse. Chloe, dressed in jeans and a cozy sweatshirt, had a textbook open on her lap and a calculator by her side.

“How are classes going?” Sandra asked, setting her tea down.

Chloe exhaled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Tough. My calculus professor doesn’t mess around, but I actually kind of love it. It’s so satisfying when the numbers click, you know?”

Sandra smiled warmly. “I’m glad you’re enjoying it. You’ve always been good at math.”

“Yeah, but it’s not just math. I’ve got chem lab right after, and it’s been awesome. My group’s working on titrations, and I didn’t mess up once this week!” Chloe grinned, her excitement contagious.

Sandra leaned back, folding her arms. “That’s my girl. Hard work pays off.”

Chloe nodded, flipping a page in her book. “What about you? How’s the new role at work?”

Sandra shrugged, a modest smile on her face. “It’s a lot more responsibility, but it’s nice to feel like I’m moving up. Plus, it’ll help cover your tuition.”

Chloe looked up, her expression softening. “You’re amazing, you know that? Always putting me first.”

Sandra chuckled, nudging her gently. “That’s what moms are for. But don’t sell yourself short, you’re the one doing the hard part.”

“Thanks, Mom,” Chloe said, leaning back with a satisfied sigh. “I just hope I can keep up.”

“You will,” Sandra assured her. “You’re a smart kid. Just keep working hard.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

The door slammed shut behind Chloe as she walked into the house, dropping her purse onto the kitchen counter.

“Hey, Mom,” she called out, toeing off her shoes. “Did you see the moving truck?”

Sandra glanced up from her spot on the couch, her reading glasses perched on her nose and a paperback in her lap. “It was here earlier. They’ve been unloading all day.”

Chloe grabbed a soda from the fridge and leaned against the door, cracking it open. “Did you see him?”

Sandra raised an eyebrow. “Him?”

Chloe grinned. “The guy who moved in. Tall, dark hair, super attractive. I passed him in the driveway.”

“Hmm,” Sandra said noncommittally, turning a page in her book.

Chloe smirked. “You’re not even curious? He looked single. Very single.”

Sandra chuckled, setting the book aside. “Chloe, please. I’m sure he’s half my age and not remotely interested in middle-aged neighbors.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “First of all, you’re not that old. And second, you don’t know that. Maybe he’s into sophisticated women.”

Sandra laughed. “Sophisticated? I’m in yoga pants and a cardigan.”

Chloe shrugged, still smiling. “I’m just saying, he’s cute. You might want to rethink your ‘don’t care’ attitude.”

Sandra leaned back, shaking her head. “How about instead of matchmaking, we come up with something neighborly to do? Maybe take over a welcome package tomorrow.”

Chloe tilted her head, pretending to think it over. “So you can get a better look at him, huh?”

Sandra picked up her book, hiding a smile. “Don’t make me regret this idea.”

“You got it,” Chloe teased. “I’ll pick something up at the bakery after work. Just promise me you won’t embarrass us with those cookies you made last Christmas.”

Sandra gasped in mock offense. “I’ll have you know those were perfectly fine cookies.”

“If you like eating bricks,” Chloe shot back, dodging the pillow Sandra tossed in her direction as she headed for the stairs.

“Tomorrow, Chloe!” Sandra called after her, laughing.

“Yeah, yeah,” Chloe replied, her voice fading as she disappeared into her room.

Sandra shook her head, a faint smile still lingering. “Single and attractive,” she muttered to herself, glancing toward the window. “We’ll see.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

Sandra set her purse down on the kitchen counter and sighed, leaning against it as Chloe rummaged through the fridge.

“Well, that was… something,” Sandra said, her voice laced with dry amusement.

Chloe emerged with a soda in hand, cracking it open. “What do you mean? He was nice!”

Sandra crossed her arms. “He was polite. But there was something about him. I don’t know. I just felt an odd vibe.”

Chloe laughed, leaning against the counter. “Odd vibe? Come on, Mom. He was perfectly fine.” She paused, winking. “And he was fine.”

Sandra groaned, shaking her head. “Chloe, no. I’m not interested, and I don’t need you playing matchmaker.”

“Why not?” Chloe pressed, grinning. “He’s tall, charming, and looks like he could be in a magazine. You can’t tell me you didn’t notice.”

“I noticed that his house is immaculate for someone who just moved in, and that he didn’t say much about himself,” Sandra replied, raising an eyebrow. “It felt… rehearsed.”

Chloe shrugged. “Maybe he’s just good at making a first impression. You’re reading too much into it.”

Sandra picked up a dish towel and started wiping the counter. “Or maybe I’m just not looking to date the mysterious new neighbor.”

“Your loss,” Chloe teased. “If you don’t want him, maybe I’ll take a shot.”

Sandra snapped the towel in Chloe’s direction, laughing when Chloe yelped. “Absolutely not. He’s twice your age, Chloe.”

“Please, Mom,” Chloe said, dodging out of reach. “Thirty-something is hardly ancient.” She smirked. “But seriously, you’re missing out. If you won’t date him, at least admit he’s hot.”

Sandra sighed dramatically, turning back to the sink. “Fine. He’s… handsome. Happy?”

“Extremely,” Chloe said, grinning as she sipped her soda. “So, when’s round two? I’m thinking we bring over wine next time.”

Sandra shot her a look. “There won’t be a round two. He’s our neighbor, not a new project. And I don’t need wine or a man to keep me entertained.”

“Boring,” Chloe sang, heading for the stairs. “But don’t worry, Mom. I’ll keep an eye on him for you.”

Sandra shook her head, laughing under her breath. “Please don’t.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

The front door creaked open, and Chloe stepped inside, her heels clicking softly on the tile floor. Sandra, seated at the kitchen table with her laptop, didn’t look up at first, but the sound of the door closing made her glance toward her daughter.

“You’re home late,” Sandra said, her tone neutral but sharp enough to imply she was fishing.

“Yeah,” Chloe replied casually, kicking off her shoes. “I was at the library. Study group ran long.”

Sandra leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. “Funny. The library doesn’t smell like men’s cologne.”

Chloe froze mid-step, then turned slowly, her expression caught between guilt and defiance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sandra raised an eyebrow. “It means I know you weren’t at the library. You were at Peter’s house, weren’t you?”

Chloe’s eyes darted to the side for a moment before she sighed, throwing her purse onto the counter. “Fine. Yes, I was at Peter’s. But it’s not a big deal.”

Sandra stood, her concern bubbling into irritation. “Not a big deal? Chloe, this is the third time I know of. God knows how many more I don’t.”

Chloe rolled her eyes. “He’s just helping me with my college work, Mom. He’s really smart.”

Sandra’s frown deepened. “And he doesn’t have anything better to do than help a twenty-year-old with homework?”

Chloe crossed her arms. “Why are you acting like this is some kind of scandal? He’s been nothing but nice.”

“Because it looks inappropriate, Chloe,” Sandra said firmly. “He’s an older man, he’s single, and he’s our neighbor. You’re putting yourself in a situation that’s going to lead to trouble.”

Chloe let out a frustrated laugh. “God, you make it sound so dirty. He’s not some creep, Mom. He’s just… kind of amazing, actually.”

Sandra’s eyes narrowed. “Amazing, how?”

Chloe hesitated, her defensiveness softening slightly. “He’s easy to talk to. He listens, you know? And he’s not like other guys. He’s… confident, but not in a gross way. It’s hard to explain.”

“That’s exactly what worries me,” Sandra said, her voice quieter but no less serious. “He’s a grown man, Chloe. And you’re vulnerable, whether you realize it or not.”

Chloe groaned, rubbing her temples. “Vulnerable? Seriously? I’m an adult. I don’t need you to protect me from every guy who’s nice to me.”

“Peter isn’t just any guy,” Sandra countered. “And I don’t like how much time you’re spending with him.”

Chloe shrugged, turning toward the stairs. “Well, you don’t have to like it, because there’s nothing wrong with it.”

Sandra called after her. “Chloe, don’t walk away from this conversation!”

“I’m done talking, Mom!” Chloe shouted back, disappearing up the stairs.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Sandra was stirring a pot of soup on the stove when she heard the front door close. She turned and froze, her eyes narrowing as Chloe strutted into the kitchen. Her outfit left little to the imagination.

“Where are you going dressed like that?” Sandra asked, her tone sharper than intended.

Chloe grabbed her bag from the counter, brushing past her mother with a casual shrug. “Out,” she said simply.

Sandra set the spoon down, crossing her arms. “Out where?”

Chloe sighed loudly, spinning on her heel to face her mom. “Does it, like, matter? God, Mom, why do you always need to know where I’m going?”

Sandra’s eyes narrowed. “Because you’re acting like someone I don’t even recognize. Look at what you’re wearing! When did this become you?”

Chloe smirked, a faint flicker of irritation behind her eyes. “What’s wrong with it? Peter says I should, like, be proud of my body. It’s not a big deal.”

Sandra stiffened at the mention of Peter, her jaw tightening. “Peter again. Everything is Peter this, Peter that. Do you even hear yourself, Chloe?”

Chloe tilted her head, her voice growing defensive. “Yeah, I hear myself. And I’m tired of hearing you! You’re always treating me like a kid.”

“Because you’re acting like one!” Sandra snapped, her voice sharp. “I’ve been trying to talk to you, Chloe, to get through to you, but all you do is shut me out.”

Chloe crossed her arms, her pout deepening. “Maybe that’s because you’re always on my case about, like, everything. I’m twenty, Mom. I’m not some dumb little kid.”

Sandra stepped closer, her voice soft but firm. “And spending all your time with a man twice your age, dressing like this, and ignoring everyone who cares about you. Is that’s the kind of ‘grown-up’ you’re trying to be?”

Chloe flinched slightly, but her voice stayed defiant. “Peter actually respects me. Which is, like, more than I can say for you!”

Sandra’s face flickered with hurt, but she stood her ground. “Respect? Chloe, this isn’t respect. He’s taking advantage of you, and you’re letting him.”

Chloe rolled her eyes, gripping her bag tighter. “Ugh, you don’t even know him, Mom. Peter’s so nice. You just don’t get it.”

“I know enough,” Sandra replied coldly.

Chloe sighed dramatically, turning toward the door. “Whatever. Maybe you should, like, stay out of my business for once.”

“Chloe…” Sandra called, but her daughter cut her off.

“I’m done, Mom,” Chloe said sharply, pulling the door open.

Sandra took a step forward, her voice tinged with desperation. “Chloe, don’t you walk out that door. Don’t go to his house.”

Chloe paused in the doorway, turning back with a sly, knowing smirk. “Too late for that.”

------------------------------------------------------------------

Sandra stepped into the house, dropping her keys on the entryway table and pausing to slip off her shoes. From the living room, the faint sound of pop music played over the hum of the TV, where Chloe sat perched on the edge of the couch, scrolling through her phone. Her long legs were crossed, barely covered by the micro-skirt she wore, and her tight crop top left little to the imagination.

“Hey, Mom!” Chloe called out without looking up, her voice higher, almost sing-song, as if she’d been practicing a more playful tone.

Sandra hesitated before walking into the room, taking a deep breath. “Hi, Chloe.”

Chloe looked up with a wide grin, twirling a strand of her platinum blonde hair around her finger. “Ooooh, you look nice today, Mom! Is that new?”

Sandra glanced down at her fitted blouse and jeans, a touch more stylish than her usual outfits, and smiled faintly. “No, it’s not new. But thanks.”

Chloe patted the couch next to her. “C’mere! Sit with me!”

Sandra moved slowly, lowering herself onto the cushion. Chloe turned to face her, her makeup heavy and flawless, the faint scent of candy-sweet perfume clinging to her.

“I talked to Peter,” Sandra said after a moment, her voice measured.

Chloe’s grin faltered slightly, but she kept her tone light. “Oh? What about?”

“About… you,” Sandra replied, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

Chloe blinked, then giggled nervously. “Mooooom, what’d you say to him? You didn’t, like, embarrass me or anything, right?”

Sandra shook her head, her tone softening. “No, Chloe. I just… I had some concerns, that’s all. About how much time you’ve been spending with him, and how close you’ve gotten.”

Chloe tilted her head, her smile dimming. “Why? Peter’s, like, the best. He’s been soooo nice to me.”

Sandra hesitated. “I know he has,” she said finally. “And he explained a lot. About how he’s been helping you feel more confident, about your schoolwork, even about the way you’ve been dressing.”

Chloe brightened instantly. “See? That’s what I’ve been saying! Peter’s just super smart and knows, like, what’s best for me. He gets me, Mom.”

Sandra nodded slowly. “I think I see that now.”

Chloe gasped, leaning forward and grabbing Sandra’s hand. “Wait, really? You’re okay with it now? For real?”

Sandra hesitated again but nodded. “Yes, Chloe. If you’re happy, then… I’ll try to be okay with it.”

Chloe squealed, throwing her arms around Sandra in an exuberant hug. “Oh my gosh, Mom! This makes me soooo happy! Peter’s gonna be so happy too!”

Sandra patted Chloe’s back awkwardly, the faintest trace of unease lingering in her expression. “I just want you to be careful,” she said quietly as Chloe pulled back.

Chloe waved her off with a laugh. “Careful? Please. Peter takes such good care of me. Like, better than anyone ever has.”

Sandra looked at her daughter for a long moment, noting how her gaze sparkled with pure, guileless excitement, how utterly at ease she seemed with her new persona. “I’m glad you feel that way,” she said at last.

“Thanks, Mom!” Chloe chirped, bouncing up from the couch. She grabbed her phone and swayed toward the door, her skirt riding higher as she moved. “You’re the best! Oh, and Peter and I are hanging out later, so don’t wait up, okay?”

“Okay,” Sandra replied, watching Chloe head upstairs.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Sandra was sitting at the kitchen counter with a glass of wine, flipping through her phone when Chloe strutted in, her usual glow brighter than ever. She plopped down next to her mom, a mischievous grin already playing on her lips.

“You’re in a good mood,” Sandra remarked, sipping her wine.

Chloe giggled, leaning her elbows on the counter. “Well, yeah. I’ve been having, like, the best time lately.”

Sandra raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “Oh? Should I even ask?”

Chloe leaned closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “It’s Peter. He’s just… oh my God, Mom, he’s sooooo good in bed.”

Sandra choked slightly on her wine, quickly setting the glass down. “Chloe!”

“What?” Chloe said, laughing. “You wanted to know, didn’t you?”

Sandra hesitated, her cheeks coloring faintly. “I wasn’t expecting that.”

“Well, now you know,” Chloe said with a wink. “And seriously, Mom, you’re missing out. Like, he knows exactly what to do. I didn’t even know I could cum so many times in one night.”

Sandra blinked, her grip tightening slightly on the stem of her glass. “I’m not sure I need all the details, Chloe.”

“Why not?” Chloe said, giggling again. “It’s not like I’m shy about it. Peter’s, like, a total god in bed. Every fucks me, I just… ugh, it’s so good. His dick has ruined me for other guys.”

Sandra’s lips parted, her breath catching for a moment as she tried to form a response. “I… well, it sounds like you’re very… satisfied,” she said finally, her voice quieter than usual.

“Totally,” Chloe said with a dreamy sigh. “Like, I get why you’re so into him, too. He’s just got that thing, you know?”

Sandra’s gaze dropped to her glass of wine, her cheeks warm. “He hasn’t exactly made a move on me,” she admitted, her tone careful.

Chloe gasped, sitting up straighter. “No way! Are you serious? He totally should. I mean, you’re gorgeous, Mom. And he’s, like, so good at making people feel amazing.”

Sandra chuckled lightly, though the sound was tinged with a mix of amusement and something deeper. “Well, maybe he’s waiting for the right moment.”

Chloe smirked, tilting her head. “Maybe you should make the first move. I mean, Peter’s super confident, but even he might be nervous about hitting on you.”

Sandra looked up, her gaze distant as her mind wandered. “I don’t think Peter gets nervous,” she said softly, more to herself than to Chloe.

“Well, if he doesn’t, then you should totally go for it,” Chloe said, nudging her mom playfully. “Trust me, Mom. You won’t regret it.”

Sandra forced a laugh, shaking her head. “I think I’ll leave the chasing to you, Chloe.”

“Your loss,” Chloe said, grinning as she stood up and stretched. “But seriously, Mom. If he ever does make a move, you should totally go for it. He’s… unreal.”

Sandra watched as Chloe strolled out of the kitchen, her confident sway so unlike the shy girl she’d been just months ago. Alone now, Sandra swirled the wine in her glass, her thoughts swirling just as much.

She glanced out the window, where Peter’s house stood silent and dark, and a faint smile tugged at her lips. “Unreal,” she murmured, the word lingering in the air.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Sandra was carefully applying another coat of gloss to her already shiny lips. The light caught the glitter in her eyeshadow, making her gaze pop, and her fitted black dress clung tightly to her figure, barely reaching mid-thigh. Her heels, impossibly high and sleek, clicked softly against the tile as she shifted her weight.

Chloe sauntered into the room, her towering blonde hair styled in perfect waves, and her pink minidress so short it looked more like a top. She carried a small designer bag that swung lazily from her wrist, the clinking of her bracelets accompanying every exaggerated sway of her hips.

“Oh my God, Mom,” Chloe said, her voice light and bubbly. “You look, like, soooo hot right now!”

Sandra turned, giving her daughter a playful smile. “You think it’s too much?”

Chloe’s jaw dropped, and she waved her hands in mock horror. “Too much? Are you kidding? Peter’s gonna, like, die when he sees you.”

Sandra chuckled, smoothing the fabric over her hips. “That’s the plan.”

Chloe plopped onto one of the stools by the island, crossing her long legs and propping her chin on her palm. “I’m soooo proud of you, Mom. It’s, like, totally about time you went for it. Peter’s, like, the best ever. He’s gonna make you feel sooooo good.”

Sandra laughed softly, her cheeks flushing just a little. “You make him sound like a miracle worker.”

“Duh,” Chloe said, twirling a strand of her platinum hair. “He is. I mean, Mom, you’ve seen what he’s done for me. I, like, feel soooo confident and sexy all the time now. Don’t you?”

Sandra hesitated, glancing down at herself before meeting Chloe’s sparkling eyes. “I do,” she admitted. “I haven’t felt this good in years.”

Chloe beamed. “See? I told you he’s, like, magic or something.” She leaned closer, her voice dropping conspiratorially. “And wait until you, like, get to the fun part. He’s soooo good at making you feel… like, amazing amazing.”

Sandra smirked, her pulse quickening just slightly. “You’re not helping calm my nerves, Chloe.”

Chloe giggled, waving her hand. “Oh, please. You don’t need to be nervous, Mom. Peter’s, like, the nicest guy ever. He totally knows how to, like, take care of you.”

Sandra picked up her clutch from the counter, checking her reflection in the chrome of the refrigerator. “Well, I guess I’ll find out.”

Chloe bounced off the stool and rushed over to her mom, grabbing her by the shoulders. “You’re gonna love it. Trust me, Mom. Just, like, relax and let him do his thing. You’re gonna feel soooo good after.”

Sandra laughed, shaking her head as she headed for the door. “Alright, sweetheart. Wish me luck.”

“Luck?” Chloe called after her, grinning ear to ear. “You don’t need luck, Mom. You’re, like, a total hottie! Peter’s gonna go crazy for you.”

Sandra stepped out into the warm evening, the sound of her heels clicking on the pavement as she crossed the street toward Peter’s house. Chloe leaned against the doorframe, watching her go with an almost giddy expression.

“Go get him, Mom,” Chloe whispered, twirling a lock of her hair as the door closed behind her.

------------------------------------------------------------------

Chloe sat cross-legged on the couch, her long legs on full display, her tiny red lace bralette and matching thong leaving almost nothing to the imagination. She twirled a strand of blonde hair around her finger, absently chewing gum as she scrolled through her phone.

Sandra reclined beside her, draped in a red silk robe that barely concealed her naked body. Her long legs were propped up on the coffee table, her glossy nails tapping idly against the arm of the couch.

“Ugh, I’m soooo bored,” Chloe whined, tossing her phone onto the cushion beside her. “There’s, like, nothing to do.”

Sandra smirked, adjusting her robe and looking over at her daughter. “Tell me about it. Nothing feels worth doing…except for Peter.”

Chloe giggled, leaning back and kicking her legs playfully. “Well, duh, Mom. I mean, what else is there? He’s, like, soooo amazing. Everything’s better when he’s here.”

Sandra’s lips curved into a wicked grin. “Mmm, you’re not wrong, sweetie. It’s been days since I’ve seen him, and I’m about ready to lose my mind.”

Chloe nodded enthusiastically, her gum snapping between her teeth. “Right? He’s, like, sooo perfect. Every time he comes over, it’s, like, the best time ever.”

Sandra chuckled, licking her lips as her gaze drifted toward the door. “I swear, just the thought of him gets me worked up.”

Chloe leaned forward, propping her chin on her hands. “Mom, do you think he’s gonna, like, fuck us again? I loooove when we double-team him. It’s, like, soooo fun.”

Sandra tilted her head, her voice dropping to a sultry purr. “Oh, I’m sure. Peter always knows what we need.”

Chloe giggled again, her cheeks flushing. “Mmm, yeah. He’s, like, soooo good at knowing exactly what I want.”

Sandra laughed, running a hand through her styled hair. “Sweetheart, that man could ask for anything, and I’d give it to him in a heartbeat.”

Chloe tilted her head, looking dreamily at the ceiling. “Same. He’s, like, the best thing ever.”

Before Sandra could respond, a knock echoed through the house. Both women froze for a moment, their heads snapping toward the door.

“Oh my God!” Chloe squealed, springing up from the couch. “Do you think it’s him?”

Sandra’s grin widened, and she stood, adjusting her robe as she moved toward the door. “There’s only one way to find out.”

Chloe bounced on her toes, her excitement palpable as Sandra reached for the handle.

Sandra opened the door slowly, her heart racing as her lips parted into a welcoming smile.

“Ladies,” Peter said smoothly, stepping inside without hesitation. “Miss me?”

Chloe practically squealed, rushing to close the door behind him.

Sandra’s smile deepened, her voice dripping with anticipation. “Always, Peter.”

#personality change #f2f transformation #bimboization #slutification

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sweetdispatch · 1 month ago

Note

Quinn Hughes 🫦 5 + 14 and 🧸 3 + 4 (4, not targeted at yn or Quinn but other guy) Jealous/protective Quinn turned smut w/ a LOT of hickeys being left on yn’s neck. Maybe some guy from another team keeps trying to take yn home after the game or from the bar or something (not knowing Quinn is there), yn gets uncomfy and Quinn comes to the rescue or something. Maybe end up hooking up in the car? 👀 Idk do with this what you will, have a great day and thank you!! ❤️❤️❤️

prompt list

You visited Quinn in Michigan. You got a week off from work and decided to surprise him. You planned this with his brothers so they could pick you from the airport. You were excited to see him again. He wanted to stay with you in Vancouver the whole summer but you forced him to go and spend time with his family. Now, you were there, moments from seeing him again.

Quinn was the happiest person in the house when you came. He couldn’t get rid of the smile on his face. Your presence was enough for him to smile. Whole week you were hanging out with him and his brothers. Quinn was grateful that you were getting along with them. Often, he even had to pull you out of them to spend some time alone with you.

It was Friday night. All four of you decided to go clubbing. Jack mentioned that his friends were coming today and he drove to pick them up. He promised to meet you later in the club. Quinn took you and Luke there because he knew he had to take care of you knowing that tomorrow, you’re gonna wake up with a huge headache. That’s why he was the driver for the night. You ordered drinks for you and Luke and soda for Quinn. After half an hour, you decided to go for a refill and left them. You were sitting by the bar waiting for the drink when someone started talking to you.

“What a pretty girl like you is doing here by herself”. The guy said.

“I’m not alone, so get lost”.

“I don’t see your boyfriend anywhere”. He started. “You know, I can take good care of you”. He touched your shoulder. You quickly pulled out.

“I’m not interested, thank you”.

“C’mon, I know you want me. I can fuck you real good and give you the most mindblowing orgasm”. You were disgusted by his words and before you could say anything, you heard Quinn.

“What did you just say? You think that you can fuck my girlfriend better than me?”

“Oh shit. I didn’t know she was your chick Quinn”. The guy looked scared.

“Sure thing Zegras, definitely you didn’t know”. Before he had a chance to answer, Quinn pulled you out of the club. He was going at a really fast pace and you almost fell down.

“Stop. You’re going too fast”. You plead. He stood and faced you. His face was all red from anger. “I’ve never seen you that mad before”.

“Because I’ve never been so mad before. What the fuck was he thinking to promise you all those things. I’m the only one who can fuck you real good and give you the best orgasm”. He said and grabbed your waist. “And I think I need to remind you that… you know, in case someone would promise you this again”.

“We can’t go home now, you promised to be the driver”. You reminded him.

“Who said we have to go home?” He pulled you into a kiss. He tapped your thighs so you jumped on him when he was walking to the car. “We can do it in the car”. Quinn whispered to you.

Quinn opened the door and sat on the passenger seat. He pushed the seat all the way back to give you space. Quickly, he unzipped his pants and took them off with underwear. At that moment, you were glad to wear a dress. Before you sat on him, you took off your panties and threw them on driver’ seat. You tried to balance yourself but he was impatient.

Quinn pushed himself fully into you. You moaned at the feeling. You loved riding him, it was incredible to feel him so deep and full in your pussy. You started jumping on his dick. He pulled you closer and started kissing your neck.

“I need to show everyone that you’re taken”. Quinn whispered into your neck and started marking it. You could feel his teeth biting your skin but you didn’t care. You loved the possessive side of him. He made a couple hickeys on your neck and chest. All in visible places so everyone could see them.

“Quinn, I’m so close”. You moaned. Quinn grabbed your ass and helped you with movements. He lifted his hips and you could feel the new angle. You reached your orgasm and fell on his chest. His dick still deep buried inside of you.

“As much as I love this position, you need to pull out because I don’t have a condom”. He kissed you and helped you stand up. He wanted to keep his hard dick in his pants until you got home but then, he heard you.

“Cum in my mouth”. Quinn saw you kneeling between his legs with an open mouth. He took the opportunity and released it into your mouth.

“Swallow it. All of it. You don’t want to make a mess here”. He ordered you. You gladly did it and showed him that you swallowed every last drop. You two dressed up and started walking back to the club.“I never thought you would fuck me in a car.” You joked. ”Jealousy seems to be a great motivator for you”. You grabbed his face and kissed him.

#quinn hughes x reader #v' prompt list work

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gracev0609 · 5 months ago

Text

On the Rocks

Danny Wagner X Reader (Sweetheart)

An AU where Danny is a heavily pierced and tattooed bartender with a mutual crush on his coworker.

WC: 6.6k+

Warnings: 18+ Only, Minors DNI, Explicit Sex, Heavily pierced Danny and Reader, Heavily tattooed Danny and Reader, Multiple Orgasms,cum kink, this is 90 percent smut, 10 percent plot.

A gracev0609/ @lipstickitty collaboration.

Looking up from the well she was stocking for the evening she saw her coworker saunter in. His polished finger tapping away at the touch screen, clocking in for the evening shift. While he was preoccupied she not so subtly checked him out, her eyes scanned from the black curls cascading down his back to his completely see through black mesh crop top. She could plainly see the black and grey artwork that flowed down the contours of his arms and back disappearing into the waistband of his pants. Danny turned towards her grabbing the new bottle of whiskey, putting on the pour top before stocking it on the shelf.

She noticed the silver glinting underneath his top, a sparkly dermal piercing in his chest, silver barbells through his nipples and one through his belly button.

“It's gonna be real busy tonight. The first day it hasn't poured all week? And it's a Saturday? You ready to break a sweat, sweetheart?” Danny repeated the process with a bottle of bourbon.

“Always Danny.” She giggles, reaching for the bottle of Casamigos Blanco. Her fingers just grazing the bottle, and she feels him behind her, his hips barely grazing her ass as he reaches up and over her body grabbing the heavy glass bottle for her.

“Just ask next time. You don't need that coming out of your paycheck because it slipped out of your fingers,” he winks, raising his hand and wiggling his silver ringed fingers.

Her eyes zero in on his hand, his long fingers making her mind wander briefly, not at all helping her crush on him, before he catches her staring with a knowing smirk.

Her cheeks flushing a bit, she finishes stocking the bar alongside Danny and he kindly doesn’t say anything about catching her staring.

Throughout their shift, they both break a sweat, little beads rolling down their faces. She follows a droplet down Danny’s chest with her eyes for a moment before mentally shaking herself and brushing it off. “Hot, sweetheart?” He asks with a low chuckle, slinging a couple beer bottles across the bar. He pulls a black elastic from his wrist before piling his hair back in a bun, little tendrils falling loose around his face. She can't help but stare at his side profile, beautiful florals inked into his neck flowing up starting along his jawline in front of his ear.

“You have no idea.” She sighs, pushing her damp hair back off her forehead.

Danny grabs the little fan sat at the end of the bar and angles it toward her, letting the breeze cool her heated skin.

“You’re amazing.” She groans, her eyes falling closed as she basks in the cool air for a moment.

“You have no idea.” He laughs then, throwing his head back with it as he takes in her shocked expression.

Seeing her sputtering to come up with a response, Danny continues, “I was looking at the schedule for tomorrow night, looks like you’re off?”

She confirms with a nod and a ‘mhm’, waiting for him to continue.

“I’m playing tomorrow night, well my band and I. Was wondering if you’d like to come out and watch?” His voice lowers a little in pitch and volume, “I’ll make it worth your time, sweetheart, promise.”

His sultry voice entices a shiver to run down her back,”I'd love to. I'll be there.”

He smiles, his canines pointing out as he grins,” Good girl.”

🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸

The music was booming as Danny's band started their first song, the guitarist was electric and the singer had enormous power stored within his small body. She worked her way to the front of the stage with her own tequila soda in her hand. She couldn't help but stare at Danny, the muscles rippling in his arms as he pounds on the drums. His hair flying as he whips his head, his tongue obscenely sticking out of his mouth. His eyes find her, piercing and rimmed with black shadow. She sees him mouth ‘hi sweetheart ‘ and butterflies form in her stomach. Entranced she watches his entire set and before she knew it they were bowing and leaving the stage. Hurriedly she heads to the bar grabbing the attention of the bartender she usually works the opposite shifts to,” Miranda! Can you grab me another tequila soda, double shot, and a Jack and Coke.”

She smiles,” For Danny right?’

Blushing she nods as she watches her make their drinks.

Handing her two cups, one with clear liquid and the other amber,” He's such a flirt! Go get ‘em!”

Laughing she walks back towards the stage, seeing him walking over to where she was.

She extends her arm, offering him the drink,”Thank you sweetheart. Did ya enjoy the show? I saw you eying me up there.”

He grabs the cocktail from her hand, their fingers brushing. She notices the glossy silver polish on his nails and boldly flirts,’ I like that color.” Gesturing to his hand,” It would look really pretty wrapped around my throat.”

A dangerous smirk forms on his lips, his voice dropping low and husky,” Well what do we have here? Someone's a bit eager, huh?”

He steps up, his free hand grazing the skin of her throat, goosebumps forming and her nipples hardening. He leans in, his lips brushing against her ear,” My fingers would look even prettier with you dripping off of them.”

Running on instinct she steps forward pressing her body against his, the liquor swirling in her bloodstream lowering her inhibitions,” Do you want to go find out?”

Danny picks the black cocktail straw out of his drink, throwing the liquid back, finishing it in a few gulps,” Lets go sweetheart.”

🍸🍸🍸🍸🍸

Following Danny into his house, she looks around and notices how Danny everything is- if she’d sat and pictured what his home would look like, her mental picture wouldn’t be very far off from the reality. All black furniture, tasteful decor- it was nice, very fitting.

He leads her to the kitchen by the hand, pulls out a bar stool and gestures for her to take a seat. “Can I get you a drink, sweetheart?” His dark eyes meet hers, a smile still playing on his lips. She takes in his beautiful face, the piercings adorning his eyebrow and nose, the artwork starting at his jaw in front of his ear, trailing down his neck disappearing under his shirt, then reappearing flowing down both arms.

“Whatever you’re having.” She flirts with a wink.

Danny retrieves two glasses from inside a cabinet, filling each with ice from the freezer. From the fridge, he pulls out a bottle of tequila and a can of sprite. “Not quite as stocked as the bar, but it’ll do.” He grins at her, teeth on display as he mixes their drinks.

He leads her over to the couch handing her the drink after she gets settled on the black leather beside him. Taking a sip of her beverage she can't help but blush under his gaze. She knows him, she works with him numerous times a week. They've laughed and joked and flirted for months. She knows despite his appearance he's a good man, last month he caught some piece of shit trying to spike a patrons drink, and Danny swiftly shut it down and kicked him out as well as made sure the woman was alright.

“Are you having fun? Did you like the band? We try to play originals and covers.” Danny asks, his voice soft as she realizes she's been staring into space for a few minutes.

“I loved it! You were amazing, all of you were! But I couldn't keep my eyes off of you, you're magnetic up there.”

Danny grabs the drinks and sets them down on the coffee table in front of him, before shifting a little closer to her.

“You're really sweet ya know that? Everything you say is just sugar coated,” his hand comes up to stroke her cheek and she can feel the cool metal of his rings on her face.” Can I have a taste sweetheart?”

Leaning forward she presses her lips to his, softly she warms up to him, opening her mouth and allowing him access. His warm palm still securely holding her jaw keeping her in place. Little moans slip out when his tongue brushes against hers, causing wetness to start pooling between her legs. His free hand comes up, fingers teasing the heated flesh of her throat before slightly dipping under the neckline of her shirt.

“Can I?” He mumbles against her lips.

“Please.” She utters into his mouth.

His fingers slip down her shirt, under the cup of her bra, brushing against her pebbled nipple. His eyes widen in surprise as his fingers find a barbell pierced through them.

He pulls his mouth away to speak, fingers still rubbing across the nub,” Sweetheart, what a surprise. Why do you keep these hidden away? I didn't even know you had them. Ya know you'd make more tips with them on display.”

“I don't know, I kind of like them to be a mystery, especially when I get to see pretty boys reactions.”

She moans as he pinches them in between his fingers, making his hard cock pound beneath his jeans.

“Can I put my mouth on them?” He pleads, needing it more than anything in the moment.

Wordlessly she peels her top off and unhooks her bra letting it fall to the floor. She sits in front of him, letting his eyes feast on her partially unclothed body. He notices more tattoos than the ones he could previously see on her arms, the biggest piece being an underboob tattoo that drapes across her sternum and her ribcage. Danny nudges her back against the cushions bringing his lips to her inked skin before sucking her nipple into his mouth. His tongue swirling around the hard bud sending shockwaves through her core. She's almost sure she has soaked through her pants by this point. Danny licks and sucks and drags his teeth against her sensitive skin, tugging at the piercings. He swaps back and forth between her breasts, stimulating them both.

“Danny, don't stop baby. I think I'm gonna cum like this.” She pants into the humid air surrounding their bodies. Danny whines, continuing to suck on her oversensitive chest, not changing a thing as her moans grow pitchy and her body shakes below him. When she finally relaxes into the pillows he disconnects from her body placing kisses against her soft breasts.

“Fuck baby. That was so fuckin hot, let me do it again, let me make you cum again.”

She looks at his eager expression through hooded eyes, still feeling floaty from her orgasm,” Show me your bedroom Danny.”

Both glasses being left on the bar to be forgotten about, Danny takes her hand and leads her to the bedroom. A grin stretches across his lips as she takes her hand from his and situates herself on his bed, the plush comforter feeling soft and luxurious against her bare skin.

She reclines back against the pillows, her hair fanned out around her as she pats the bed next to her, growing increasingly impatient the longer she waits for Danny to join her.

“Let’s get comfy, sweetheart.” His voice comes out low, a sultry whisper as his skilled fingers toy with the hem of his shirt, his tattoos barely peeking out from under the material. Finally, painfully slowly, he drags the material up and over his head, ruffling his curls a little in the process.

She’s taken aback by his beauty all over again, her eyes raking over every inch of the inked flesh that she’s itching to feel against her fingertips, her lips. The barbells pierced through his nipples keeping them peaked, she can barely wait to run her tongue over them, suck them into her mouth. The twinkling gem in his navel catches the light just right, the sparkles standing out perfectly against the dark smattering of hair that resides on his lower tummy.

Danny’s hands trail down his torso, thumbs tweaking his nipples just a bit making his hips just barely jolt forward, a shaky breath leaving his plush pink lips as his inked fingers dance over the waistband of his low rise pants.

Danny knows he’s being a tease, he just can’t help himself with her hungrily staring him down, watching her tongue trail across her full bottom lip. He has her full attention when finally his nimble fingers pop open the button and slowly slide the zipper down, inching the material down to the tops of his thighs. She bites her lip, overwhelmed with need as she takes in the prominent bulge in the front of his boxers, a growing damp spot in the material showing her how badly he needs her too.

“All the way Danny. Let me see all of you.” She purrs from her spot nestled in his pillows.

He smiles, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers before slowly tugging them down his hips. Swirls of ink frame his hips, blurring into the patch of hair at his base. She huffs, wordlessly telling him to pick up the pace. He pulls the material down further, exposing his length decorated with purplish veins that complimented the artwork around his groin. Finally, he frees himself, his cock bobs obscenely and she takes in every inch. Her gaze honing in on a sparkly silver piercing resting along the top of his head. A single bead of precum beading along the silver ball threatening to drip down onto the sheets.

She smirks,” I guess we both have some surprises.”

He grasps his length in his hand, slowly stroking himself,” Your turn sweetheart. Let me see all of you. And spread em.”

Hooking her fingers in her panties she pulls them down her legs before tossing them at him, bringing her knees up before opening them wide so he can gaze at her.

“For fucks sake.” He growls, crawling on the bed, his body begging for a closer look. Taking her two fingers she gently pulls up on her mound, letting him peer at the dainty ring pierced through the hood of her clit.

She can hear him panting, already out of breath as arousal courses through his veins.

“Surprise.” She coos gently rubbing her fingers over her oversensitive clit.

Danny lowers himself to his stomach between her legs, his lips ghosting along her inner thighs. Her body tingles with anticipation as he's so close yet so far from where she needs him.

“Sweetheart? Need you to tell me if there are any hard no's.” He asks lifting his head from her soft skin.

She taps on her chin,” Hmm… well I don't typically do anal when I'm just hooking up with someone. That's third date material.”

Danny laughs gently, shaking his head,” No anal yet, got it.”

He dips his head down kissing the short trimmed hair above her slit,” You're really something else, ya know that?”

His lips leave a trail of kisses down her groin, staying away from her most sensitive skin.

Groaning she threads her fingers in his hair,” Fuck, just eat me out Danny.”

“Gonna let me put your pretty little clit in my mouth sweetheart? I just know you taste so sweet.”

“Just do it, fuck!” She whines, pushing her hips up begging for him.

He licks a broad stripe from her entrance to her clit, gently lapping at it making her piercing flick against his tongue. Softly he wraps his lips around it, sucking lightly, not knowing exactly how sensitive she is.

Whining she pants,” Harder, just a little harder. Fuck feels so good Danny!”

He follows her directions, sucking her between his lips a little harsher, and he gently prods his fingers against her entrance. Pushing in until his first knuckle and pulling them back out again, he can feel her clenching around him desperately trying to suck him in further.

He continues to tease her until she's gasping,” Fuck Danny, hmm I'm gonna- shit.”

Swirling his tongue around her clit as she shakes and a gush of warm slick wetness coats his fingers that are barely inside of her. Gently he places more kisses on her clit,” Do you always cum this easily or am I just that good.”

She leans up, cheeks flushed, her hair sticking to her face around her hairline,” A little bit of both if I'm being honest.”

He smiles at her, his mouth glistening in the low light of his bedroom,” You're so fucking sexy.” His fingers gently glide up and down teasing her slit,” Can I eat you out some more? I love the way you taste.”

She relaxes back into the pillows telling him to go ahead. He immediately dives back in his tongue reaching as far into her entrance as it can go, his hands holding her open wide, his silver polished nails glinting against her skin, his chunky metal rings biting against the sensitive flesh of her inner thighs. Shivering against him as he moans into her heat, fully immersing himself in her. He licks his way back up to her clit before gently tugging on the piercing with his teeth and nudging his fingers in much farther this time, relishing in the way she squeezes around them. It doesn't take her long to feel the familiar tingling in her lower stomach yet again as he gently guides her through yet another orgasm.

Finally he removes himself from her, chucking asking if she's alright as she lays there, limbs loose and dazed. Her head still in the clouds. Lazily she smiles,” I'm more than alright. My turn, let me play with you, I know you're aching by now.”

Danny rolls to his back, pulling his hair back to flow against his dark silk pillowcases getting situated. She watches as his red flushed cock moves as he gets comfortable and she can practically feel herself salivating at the thought of having him in her mouth. Sultrily she crawls in between his legs letting a string of spit fall from her lips onto the tip of his cock. Bending down he quickly gathers her hair in his fist keeping it out of her face as she goes to work, she licks up the underside of his cock purposely avoiding his pierced head. He huffs a breath as her hot tongue caresses the sensitive skin, she's warm and wet and his mind is already spinning. After what feels like forever she places an open mouthed kiss to his slit, the silver ball gently knocking against her front teeth. She can taste his salty arousal on his skin from how much he's already leaked in his excitement. She moans around his tip as she takes him a bit farther, feeling his piercing nudge against her top lip and then bump against the roof of her mouth. Humming around him he cries out, the head of his cock extremely sensitive.

“Fuck you're so good at that sweetheart. You can go harder, you're not gonna hurt me.” He pants, his fingers softly rubbing her scalp in encouragement.

Taking that as her go ahead she suckles his tip, feeling him swell and harden further. Her doe eyes bore into his as she somehow makes sucking cock look incredibly innocent. And he has to close his eyes for a moment, swearing that if he looks at her any longer he's going to blow his load.

When she takes more of his throbbing length down her throat he shudders a shaky breath, his ringed fingers gripping her hair a bit tighter as his hips flex involuntarily.

She can feel the cool metal of his piercing softly nudging the walls of her throat, a unique sensation she finds a lot more enjoyable than she thought it might be. His whimpers and low groans are some of the prettiest sounds she’s ever heard and she wants to hear more and more of them streaming from his lips like liquid sugar.

“You think I’m gonna feel it, when you fuck me?” She pants with her lips brushing his sensitive head and the jewelry adorning it, punctuating her words with a sweet kiss to his tip before sharply flicking her tongue across his slit.

“I assure you you will, sweetheart.” He chuckles through his nose, gently tugging on her hair prompting her to straddle his waist and bring her back up to his lips for a kiss.

As Danny’s tongue explores her mouth, he lets her taste herself on his tongue mixing with the slight hint of his arousal on her own. When her hips grind down into his, the cool metal of the barbell through his tip catches her hypersensitive swollen clit, a moan tearing from her chest.

“Keep going, sweetheart. Think you can cum just like this?” His whisper raises goosebumps on the tender flesh of her neck where his warm breath hits and she whines, letting her head fall into the crook of his neck. Her breaths fanning over the sensitive skin beneath his ear makes him shiver as she nods slightly into his neck, another soft moan escaping as her hips roll into his.

The direct stimulation to his sensitive head is almost too much, his pretty face flushing red as more sweat accumulates on his chest. His kiss-swollen lips still slick from her tongue running over them, the bottom one bitten into his mouth as he focuses on how she feels, dripping down onto his cock, his lower abdomen slick with a combination of their juices and sweat.

Her eyes roll as she continues to rock her hips against him, absolutely drenching him. Pressing herself down even further she angles her swollen clit against him pushing herself even closer. A few more thrusts of her hips and the coil in her stomach snaps as she falls apart on top of him. Pressing her forehead against the tacky skin of his neck she shudders, orgasmic aftershocks wracking her body.

“Good girl, that's it baby. Catch your breath.” Danny coos in her ear as his large hands wrap around her, holding her body close to him. Gently his fingers knead her damp skin, bringing her back to him. He cranes his neck bringing his lips to her head, placing a few kisses on her hair. After a few moments she stirs, leaning in to place a searing kiss on his lips. He continues to place a few pecks to her lips before murmuring,” Ready for me now baby?”

“So ready.”

He leans over, opening the drawer in his nightstand fishing for a condom. She places her hand on his chest,” Before you put that on… I want to feel you.”

Danny put the small foil packet down on the table top and he smirked,” Go ahead sweetheart, take it it's yours.”

He leans back slightly, grasping his shaft holding it up for her to climb on. Positioning herself above him he angles his tip directly against her entrance. Slowly she lowers down, feeling the rounded metal on his tip enter her. She shivers as it rubs against her insides in a strange but pleasurable way as she lowers herself down. Whimpering as she adjusted to his size, his hands caressing her body, coming up to rub circles over her nipples. She clenches around him at first when the jolts of pleasure run down her spine, her back arching pushing her breasts into his palms. Needing more she starts rocking her hips, loving the way she can feel him fully.

Once she’s fully seated on Danny’s cock she plants one hand on his abdomen to steady herself and the other comes up to tease his nipple, lightly pinching it making him choke out a moan. “You feel so fucking good sweetheart.”

She moans in agreement, grinding her hips feeling her pierced clit rubbing against his base. He lets his hips buck up into hers, the cold metal just brushing her cervix making her cry out.

“You feel that baby? Feel that cool piece of metal kissing your insides?”

It comes out as a chant, a prayer, “yes, yes, yes.”

“Feel it so deep? That’s how much I fill that beautiful tight pussy. Fuck, you’re taking me so well.” The praise lights a fire low in her belly, finding a rhythm bouncing in his lap, the jewelry decorating his tip brushing her velvety walls.

Her fingers pinching a little harder at his other nipple now, she feels his cock twitch deep inside of her as a high pitched whine leaves his lips. “Fuck, baby. Feels so good!” His eyes lock on to hers, his talented fingers tracing up the expanse of her bare stomach, tracing the outline of the artwork inked into her skin.

“Cum on my cock baby and then I'll put the condom on.”

She whines in protest, jutting out her bottom lip in a pout.

“Trust me sweetheart, I'm not gonna want to pull out.”

His words make her clench around him, tightening like a vice as her hips glide on his.

Danny smirks,” Did you like that sweetheart?”

She lays her head on his shoulder yet again speaking softly,” Mmhmm. I like cum. Can you maybe talk about cumming in me, it'll get me there faster.”

Danny grits his teeth as his cock throbs, twitching deep inside of her,” Yeah. I can talk about cumming in you,” his hands find purchase on her hips guiding her movements,” Wanna hear how bad I want to fill you up? Want me to paint your pretty insides white? God, I want to cum in you so fuckin deep.”

She writhes on his lap, gasping and moaning so close to unraveling,” More! Keep talking.”

“Fuck sweetheart, I wanna give you all I've got, fill you up until it's dripping out of you with nowhere else to go.” His hands squeeze her hips holding himself back,” Yeah baby? Are you gonna beg me to cum in that tight pussy? Beg me to make it mine?”

“Fuck!” Her hips jolt as her high comes crashing down, soaking his cock in her hot silky release.

“Good girl, fuck- that's it, pretty pussy is trying to milk me,” He flashes her a smile,” But I'm not there yet honey.”

Gently she settles in his lap, the muscles in her legs quivering as she tires from exerting herself. He softly pets her damp hair back from her face,” Are you getting tired baby?”

She hums in response,” Yeah, but you feel so good.”

He strokes her cheek, moving her to look in his eyes,” You came so hard and so pretty for me. Let me take care of you now, get on your back sweetheart.”

Gently lifts her hips helping her onto the mattress, her limbs are like jello and her mind is in a haze totally drunk on him. Reaching over he grabs the foil packet, ripping it before taking the rubber out. Swiftly he rolls it down his length, discarding the trash on his nightstand to be worried about later. He climbs between her legs, her face is flushed and her eyes are slits totally blissed out. Softly he pushes in, bottoming out. His hips find a rhythm fast enough to start getting him closer as she whines and sighs beneath him caught up in the pleasurable sensation of him fucking her.

Danny leans down and connects their lips in a fierce kiss, bracing himself on his forearms on either side of her head. The change in angle has a moan catching in her throat, feeling the slick skin of his chest sliding against her own as he pounds into her. Their lips part from each other but he remains close, pressing his forehead to hers. Simply not able to resist any longer, she sinks her teeth roughly into his pectoral muscle, eliciting a hiss from between his gritted teeth as his cock throbs inside of her.

His piercing hitting her cervix has her seeing stars, the painful pleasure unlike anything else she’s ever felt. Her head dips to lick up the side of his neck, tracing the lines of the artwork there and tasting the salty sweat from his heated skin before biting into the sensitive skin beneath his ear. The whine he lets out has her melting, her walls clenching around him impossibly tighter.

Her hand snakes between their bodies to lightly pinch his nipple between her thumb and first finger, his gasped, ‘harder’ setting her insides ablaze, who is she to deny him? She squeezes harder, gently tugging on the bar in his other nipple with her other hand.

“Fuck, just like that.” He groans, his cock twitching deep within her walls. He swoops down and takes one of her breasts in his mouth, his tongue swirling around the pebbled flesh as his teeth gently tug at the bar.

Feeling her squeezing him tighter and tighter, Danny knows she’s close again, and he wants nothing more than to feel her come undone around him one more time before he lets go.

“Gonna cum again for me, sweetheart? Need you to cum all over me one last time, baby. You can do it, be a good girl and give me one more.”

Leaning down he places his mouth over her nipple and sucks hard, his teeth grazing her super sensitive skin as her nails rake red lines down his back, a colorful addition to the black swirls. The pain of her nails combined with how tight she's squeezing him as she crashes into her high for another time tonight has him seeing stars. His brows furrow and his eyes screw shut as his cock swells and throbs inside of her, he knows there's no coming back from the edge this time as he starts to spurt filling the condom with his own wet hot release.

“Fuck Danny! I feel it, fuck I can feel you cumming.” She groans thrashing her head back and forth on his pillow.

His hips stutter as he continues to fill the rubber as he fucks himself through his orgasm. After what feels like forever his hips finally still and he remains tucked inside. Her hands find his face, softly cupping his strong jaw as she pulls him down to meet her lips,” You were right. You are good at that.”

He chuckles softly before placing more kisses to her still kiss swollen lips,” ‘mgonna pull out now, okay sweetheart?”

She nods her head and grits her teeth as the overwhelming feeling of being empty washes over her.

With a sigh and protest from his tired body he stands from the bed, one hand lightly gripping the condom on his shaft so as not to make a mess on the carpet and the other outstretched waiting for her to grab it,”Let me show you where the bathroom is. Wanna shower with me?’

He grabs his hand letting him pull her from the bed and letting her crash her weight into his side, steadying her,” Please. We're kinda sweaty and gross.” She laughs, lifting her arm pretending to sniff her armpit,” I'm sure I stink.”

Danny giggles,” Stink? Nah, if anything I like it.” Leading her to his ensuite bathroom lit in a warm glow of some nightlights. Not bothering to turn the overhead lights on he walks over to turn on his shower nice and hot. She admires the way his tattoos frame his ass and work their way down his strong legs. She continues to watch him as he goes to stand above the small plastic bag lined wastebasket as he carefully pulls the condom off before tying it and putting it in the trash. Her eyes take in the way he looks soft and for whatever reason it brings a smile to her face,” It's cute.” He turns his head, cocking his eyebrow,” Your dick. It's cute.”

Danny laughs and lets his head fall back with a fake exasperated groan,” Why would you say that to me. It's not supposed to be cute.”

He pulls back the shower curtain and motions for her to get in, once he steps inside she wraps her arms around him moving into the hot spray of the water. Resting her head on his chest they stand like that for a few moments. Quietly Danny speaks,” You wanna stay? I want you to stay. I had a lot of fun, and I checked the schedule and I know we're both off tomorrow.”

She smiles, maneuvering away from him and pumping some of his body wash into her hands to start cleaning herself up,” I'd love to stay. I had a really good time too. Can we do it again?”

Danny smiles, grabbing a palm full of body wash before sudsing up his own body,” I'd really like to do it again. Maybe it could even be a regular thing.”

She watches his hands caress his body, washing his chest and stomach, sliding down to clean his package, being especially cautious around his piercings.

Her eyes flick to his, already wide and dilated at the thought,” I'm on birth control so next time you could… could you cum in me?”

Danny's hands stop moving for a moment as her words sink in, and he smiles,” Sure sweetheart, I can do that.”

They giggle and exchange kisses and soft touches under the spray of water until their eyes begin to grow heavy, then Danny shuts the water off and grabs each of them a towel. He wraps her in hers before securing his own around his waist, then pulls a pack of makeup wipes out of the cabinet for both of them to cleanse their faces before bed.

Leading her back into his bedroom, he finds a well worn, baggy tshirt from his closet and passes it to her to slip on while he pulls on a pair of boxers and lightly towels off his dripping curls.

Once both towels are deposited in the laundry basket to be dealt with later, Danny pulls back the covers and lets her get situated in the bed, making his way to the kitchen to retrieve two bottles of water. He hands her hers and climbs into bed next to her, taking a big swig from the bottle before depositing it onto the nightstand. Once she’s finished with her own bottle, he pulls her into his chest, cool water droplets dripping from the ends of her hair onto his skin raising goosebumps.

Her head resting in the crook of his neck, she places a soft kiss there, nuzzling her nose into his skin. His warm hands stroke up and down her spine, slowly coaxing her to sleep in his arms as his own eyes flutter closed.

The next morning she wakes with a thin layer of sweat on her forehead, realizing she’s blanketed in both Danny’s burning heat and his thick, fluffy comforter. She tries to squirm away just enough to let some air flow to cool her heated skin but his arms tighten around her waist, locking her in place against him.

She can feel his hardened cock, pressing hot and heavy into her ass as his hips subconsciously rock into hers. She bites her lip, unable to stop herself from grinding back against him, eyes still sleepy but her every cell is burning with need for him.

She feels his muscles jerk in his sleep, his lips parted, feels him twitch against her as a breathy moan leaves his lips. Turning her head she can see his cheeks are flushed pink with sleep and arousal, his eyes slowly fluttering open.

“Good morning, sweetheart.” The sleepy tone of his voice rumbles in his chest, she feels the vibrations in her own. She reaches her hand between their bodies to slip under his waistband, grasping his thick cock and giving him a few slow tugs. He hums happily, leaning over her body his lips finding hers in a deep kiss laced with desire and the remnants of sleep still clinging to them.

Breaking the kiss, she pulls his tshirt off over her head before tugging his boxers down to his mid thigh, letting him kick them the rest of the way off.

Both fully bare, she grinds her wet pussy against him, the friction of his pierced tip against her hypersensitive clit making her shiver. Danny’s hand grips himself at his base, lining himself up with her dripping entrance before slowly pushing inside.

His thick length stretching her again, the cool metal bar brushing her insides, his weight firm against her back, everything is so delicious.

“Danny.” She gasps, her eyes rolling feeling him fully buried in her once more.

“You take me so well, sweetheart. Feels so good.” He groans, tattooed fingers inching up her torso to knead and massage her pretty pierced tits, steadily rocking his hips into her ass. One hand slides down to grip her thigh, bending her knee up for a better angle allowing him to hit the perfect spot inside of her with every roll of his hips.

“F-fuck, Danny!” She cries as his hand slides up her leg to her center, his skilled fingers rolling over her clit expertly. He can feel the smooth surface of her piercing under his fingertips, feel her walls fluttering around his throbbing cock as he coaxes her closer and closer to her end. She feels every ridge and vein perfectly as he moves within her, swearing she’ll never get used to the feeling of his pierced head caressing her insides. She knows she’ll never grow tired of the feeling of him filling her so perfectly.

“Need you to cum for me, baby. Gotta feel you soaking my cock so I can fill you up.” Danny whispers in her ear, his voice husky and deep as he holds himself back.

A loud whine leaves her at his words, just knowing he’s about to fill her up is enough to get her close. “W-with you, need to cum with you. Please Danny, give it to me, need to feel your cum so deep inside.” She pants out, her hips bucking wildly, torn between pushing back on his cock and forward towards the delicious pressure of his fingers swirling around her swollen clit.

“You want it inside? Fuck, baby, here you go.” He groans, hips losing their rhythm as he gives a few more shallow thrusts before falling apart, hot ropes of his release spurting deep inside of her. The feeling of him filling her until it starts leaking out around his cock still moving shallowly inside of her walls sends her crashing over the edge, clenching like a vice around him, milking every last drop of his release as he shudders.

“Fuck Danny feels so good!” She groans out in the morning quietness of his bedroom,” So full.”

His hands unclench around her waist, choosing to rub soothing circles instead and he places gentle kisses against her shoulder as he softens inside of her.

Danny's hand, covered in black ink, trails down to her lower stomach,”Are you satisfied just cumming once this time? I can keep going if you're not-”

“Once? We have the whole rest of the day Danny. We're just getting started.”

Danny cradles her head in his hand leaning over her body placing a fiery kiss to her lip, his tongue slipping out colliding with hers.

Gruffly he responds,” Want me to make you breakfast? I can fuck you on the countertop while it's in the oven.”

She smiles, her teeth white and sparkly,” Lead the way baby.”

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