#the return of the black denim jacket

[honeyedlashton]

Rock on 🤘

[lvndrfucks]

don’t leave me hanging omg, write the concept. miguel brain rot is on 24/7 — 🧠

You were surprised none of Miguel’s neighbors had complained yet. There were teenagers scattered all around the inside of Johnny’s apartment and the outside, loud music blasting and a fair share of drinks being passed around. At least everyone was getting along after the long overdue karate feud.

You were nursing a red solo cup while standing in the corner of the room, taking small sips. The taste of alcohol didn’t really appeal to you. Your friends engaged in chatter that you chimed in once in awhile, but you were a bit distracted.

“Are you going to talk to him or keep eye-fucking?”

“What?” Your eyes moved away from Miguel’s. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You guys have been staring at each other all night,” your friend pointed out. “He’s single, you’re single.” She made gestures with her hands for emphasis.

You shook your head while looking down to hide how red your face had gotten. “He doesn’t like me like that. We’re friends.”

“Lame,” your other friend bursted. “Go talk to him! Congratulate him on winning karate again or something.”

You rolled your eyes while taking a drink to avoid the conversation.

Her friend smirked suddenly with an idea. “Hey, can I borrow your jacket? I’m a little cold.”

You were feeling hot from the crowded room, so you were a little confused on how she was the opposite, but you did so nevertheless. You removed the cropped denim jacket to expose more of the little black dress you had on. You smiled while handing it to her.

Miguel felt his mouth go dry. His eyes scanned up and down your body from afar, the silk perfectly hugging your body and exposing valleys of skin he had never seen before.

A pat on his shoulder made him jump as he was forced to look away.

“Hey, man,” Hawk greeted. He noticed you and looked back at Miguel with a smirk. “You gonna make a move tonight, or what?”

Miguel chuckled nervously and shook his head. “I don’t think she likes me like that. I mean, we’ve been friends since we were both in Cobra Kai. Isn’t that a bit weird?”

Hawk scoffed. “No. That just builds up more chemistry. And pent up frustration.” Miguel looked at him curiously as he clarified. “Sexual frustration.”

“Dude.”

“It’s true! Remember that time you went out with Sam and she nearly broke some kid’s arm. Or when she got asked out and you broke the practice dummy.”

Even though Hawk’s statements were technically true, Miguel still had his doubts. What would a girl like you want with a guy like him?

“You just gotta go for it, man. Before someone else does,” Hawk advised and motioned his head towards Chris and Mitch who had started talking to you. You immediately started smiling and laughing at what they were saying.

Miguel held back a glare as he handed his cup to Hawk. He cheered, “That’s my boy!”

Your laughter died down as Miguel approached the three of you. You smiled at him in greeting that he returned before looking at Chris and Mitch.

“Robby wants you guys to refill the cooler outside,” he told them.

“But I just did five minutes ago,” Mitch said.

“Well, he wants you to do it. Again.”

Miguel was grateful Chris was the smarter one between the two as he was beginning to catch on.

“Yeah, it’s no problem.” There was almost a smug smile on Chris’ face. “Come on, man.” He began dragging Mitch away, the boy complaining that he already did once again.

That just left you and Miguel.

You glanced behind you to see your friends had ran off somewhere, of course. There was a small beat of silence between you two.

“How are you?”

“This is a great party.”

You two spoke at the same time. You both laughed.

“Sorry. You go first,” Miguel insisted.

“I said this is a great party,” you repeated. “I’m surprised your mom was okay with it.”

“Well, Johnny told her that it was just Miyagi-Do and Eagle Fang ‘hanging out.’”

When you were about to respond, someone knocked into you. As you tripped forward slightly, Miguel had his arms out to catch you. You sheepishly apologized while standing straight.

“Um, did you wanna go somewhere less crowded,” he proposed.

You nodded and started following him out. People from school were still showing up and it seemed the outside was becoming just as packed. You maneuvered around while still trying to keep up with Miguel. He turned to face you and offered his hand out so you wouldn’t lose each other. You took it, trying to hide your growing smile.

He guided you across towards his apartment. He opened the door and let you inside first. You were still able to hear the music and chatter of people, but it reduced slightly. Plus, you guys were completely alone now.

“Sorry. I thought it would be better here to talk and stuff. Unless you wanted to go back to the party. I’m fine with either, I just assumed—“

“It’s fine, Miguel,” you cut him off with a light chuckle. “It was getting a little overwhelming out there.” You set your empty cup on the dining table and moved to lean on the edge of the couch.

“C-can I tell you something,” he asked, standing in front of you.

“You can tell me anything.”

Your smile made him weak in the knees. His hands suddenly felt clammy as he clenched and unclenched his fists.

“I…I really like you.”

“I like you too.”

Miguel gulped. “No. I mean I like-like you. Like more than friends type of way.”

“Oh.”

Oh?

“If you don’t feel the same way, it’s fine. I get it. We’ve been friends for a long time and I understand not wanting to ruin that. It’s just that when I’m around you, I feel different. Different like you’re the one person in my life I’d hate to lose or I wouldn’t mind kissing. You know, that was probably a really weird thing to say. I’m sorry—“

“Miguel.” You laughed a bit. “It’s okay. I like-like you too.”

“Really,” he breathed out in disbelief.

You nodded. “And you’re the person I wouldn’t mind kissing either.”

Your hands reached forward to grasp his flannel and pull him closer towards you. The heels gave you an advantage to be nearly face to face with him. The close proximity made you both nervous, but someone had to make the first move.

Meeting halfway, Miguel’s lips pressed against yours in a savory kiss. His hands rested on his either side of your neck, his thumbs on the underside of your jaw and pulling you in even closer. You pulled away briefly, seeing his heart-shaped pupils and puffed lips parted. He pulled you back in with urgency.

There was only the heat of the moment, the electricity between you two, and the pure, unbridled passion of your kiss. It was a moment you would remember forever, a moment that would stay with you long after the kiss had ended.

The buzz of Miguel’s phone brought you back to Earth. He seemed to have no intention of stopping, though.

You pulled away, his lips immediately attaching to the side of your neck. “Do you wanna get that,” you asked, slightly breathless.

“Not really,” Miguel answered and kissed you again.

His phone eventually stopped until whoever was calling decided to call again. You laughed slightly at Miguel’s annoyance when he pulled away.

“It’s okay,” you reassured, one of your hands combing through his hair.

Miguel begrudgingly answered the phone with a haughty, “What?”

“Dude, where are you,” Hawk asked from the other line.

“I’m a little busy right now.” Miguel pinched your hip lightly in warning as you continued sucking on the skin of his neck.

“Well, I’ve been looking everywhere for you. I need a beer pong partner.”

“Ask Robby.” Your hand began to trail down his body.

“I’m going against him, dumbass.”

He held back a groan when you squeezed his hard on over his jeans. “I gotta go.”

“But—“

Miguel hung up and tossed his phone on the couch. You yelped in surprise when he lifted you, your legs wrapping around his waist in response.

Once in his room, he had shut the door swiftly with his foot. Next thing you knew, you were lying back on the bed with Miguel hovering over you, leaving wet kisses and sucking on your exposed chest. One of your hands was threaded in his hair as the other tightly gripped the comforter. His hand slowly trailed up your thigh, giving a soft squeeze and earning a low moan from you.

Miguel pushed the bottom of your dress up to your stomach, exposing the black shorts underneath. He looked at you as you were panting already from the build up.

"You okay," he whispered.

"Of course."

He pecked your lips before going down on his knees at the edge of the bed. He ran his hands over your thighs, placing light kisses ever so often. Eventually, he hooked his fingers onto the waistband of your shorts and pulled them off, leaving just your underwear.

Miguel was hesitant at first as he ran his thumb over the wet patch, but you moaned softly from above as you tried closing your legs if he wasn't in the way. He repeated the motion with more pressure, causing you to jolt. He enjoyed the reactions.

He gently guided your underwear over your hips and slid them out from under you. A soft gasp emitted as you felt Miguel slip his tongue between your lips. Your mind went blank as he licked, his tongue spreading over your clit in smooth strokes. His open mouth panted heavy, moist breaths over your cunt, absorbing every drop of essence as it pooled on his tongue.

Your fingers tugged on his hair, your back arching off the bed slightly. You could feel a growing sensation low in your stomach, your orgasm twisting and winding into a tight knot.

A sudden gasp fell from your lips as he slowly pushed a finger inside of you. You inhaled sharply, eyes rolling back as he pushed his pointer finger in knuckle by knuckle until he rubbed the tip of his finger against that tougher spot inside of you.

His finger slipped in and out a few times until he added a second. It made you choke, walls clamping down and tightening painfully, tears pricking your eyes in a mix of pain and pleasure. Miguel kept them still as he leaned forward to press soft kisses on your clit.

“You're doing so good, baby. I just need to relax, okay?"

You nodded, even though you were sure he couldn't see it. You exhaled loudly, gasping just as loud before groaning and bucking your hips unconsciously. He resumed pushing in and out, his fingers shined with arousal.

You could feel every inch of his fingers inside as his mouth continued to stay hot and slick against your cunt, letting his spit collect all around. Your eyes rolled back when your stomach began twisting, feeling as though something was on your chest. You whimpered, followed by a groan of his name as your body relaxed once the knot snapped, and your vision blurred.

Miguel lapped up the mess and licked his fingers clean, watching the way your chest rose and fell rapidly. You looked utterly fucked the way your hair was sprawled out and little breaths leaving your plump lips, your head tilted to the side and eyes still shut.

He moved beside you and kissed your temple, combing your hair back. “You still got one more left for me?”

With shining eyes, you looked up at him and nodded.

Miguel grinned as he started to remove his flannel and shirt. Your thighs rubbed together while staring at him undo his jeans. You shakily stood on your knees and shuffled closer to him.

He gave you a tender, slow kiss, but you weren’t ready for such gentleness at this point in time. Instead, you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer to you. A low groan released from his throat as his hands moved from your hips to the zipper of your dress. You pulled away to disregard the rest of your clothing before pulling Miguel onto the bed.

He sat back as you straddled him, lips moving together once more. Reaching between the two of you, you grabbed his leaking cock so you could set him up at your entrance. As you lowered yourself, you inhaled slowly through your nose since the preparation and care he had given you had made the stretch easy to endure. As a result, all you felt was the full sensation he had given you.

You performed an exploratory hip roll once you were seated completely. You let out a groan at the feeling, every little motion causing electricity to tingle through your body.

Miguel sat up, you two now chest to chest while he held you firmly. “Fuck, you feel fucking amazing.” He placed wet kisses along your chest.

The noises of the party drowned out his moans as you began to ride him in earnest. His hands settled on your hips, causing the soft flesh to crease as he started responding to your thrusts with his own. You could feel him moving deeper with every motion, until eventually you could almost feel him in your stomach.

“Miguel,” you gasped out, meeting his gaze.

“I’ve got you, amor.” His mouth attached to one of your breasts, making you whimper.

His actions left your limbs feeling like rubber while he proceeded to fuck into you harder. Your tongue grazed his flushed skin, your head tucked into his neck.

“Making me feel so good,” you told him gently in his ear. “Want you to finish in me. Want all of you.”

Your babbling was cut off by a higher pitched moan at Miguel’s hard thrusts, your words egging him on more.

“Think you can take it all, baby?” His forehead pressed against yours as you nodded with a pleading look. “I’ll give you everything. Again. Again. And again.” He punctuated with each thrust, your grip on his shoulders tightening. “You gonna cum? Can feel it.”

“Please.”

Your loud moans echoed throughout the room as your legs tightened around his, your body moving faster to keep you on your high. You could feel Miguel spilling out of you, the warm feeling comforting the both of you. His arms wrapped around your waist to cease your shudders as he placed light kisses upon your shoulder.

Miguel, though he didn’t want to, slowly removed himself from you, a small whimper slipping past your lips. He laid you down on his bed and told he’d be right back. When he returned, he had a damp washcloth in one hand and a water bottle in the other. He carefully cleaned you up, knowing your legs must be sore, and sat you up to take a few sips of water.

He smiled gently at you and kissed your forehead, making your face flush in admiration. He grabbed an extra t-shirt for you and changed into a pair of new boxers for himself. Once settled beside you, Miguel draped the comforter over both of your bodies.

You both stared at each other, a grin on your lips as you leaned forward for one last kiss in the night.

hera speaks!

sorry for the long wait. i honestly get embarrassed writing smut, but this has been on my mind for a long time

[paceprompting]

We'll Meet Again

written for ‘shopping’ | wc: 1000 # | steddie | rated: g | cw: no warnings apply | tags: pre-season four, pre-relationship, fluff, flirting, part two of "Need a Ride?"

Part One

@steddieholidaydrabbles

Eddie didn’t mind the mall around Christmas.

Yeah, the tinny music through the building’s speakers might grate his nerves after a few hours, but Eddie made it a point not to be there that long in the first place. And with everyone so busy from Black Friday to New Year’s, he could slip through the crowds with little to no dirty looks in his direction.

Which meant shopping for Wayne’s Christmas present in peace.

He’d noticed it around Halloween, coming home after Wayne to find him passed out on the couch. His coat hung on one of the kitchen chairs, and Eddie had stared at it while eating a midnight cereal. The old man had the thing since before Eddie started staying with him, and the wear was starting to show.

The inner lining had started to come away, and the corduory fabric on the outside was a few patches from unsalvagable. Not to mention the ratty state of the fur collar.

It had taken until now, two weeks into December, to save up enough for a coat—after his half of the rent and gas money. At least for the good ones at Bloomingdale’s.

He’d planned to be in and out in under an hour. It took the longest just to get into the store, and then to the men’s section at the back. Eddie found the style he wanted immediately, and went to searching the rack for the right size.

“Branching out?”

He may have been overly confident about flying under the radar.

Eddie’s eyes shot to the other side of the rack to find himself across from Steve Harrington. Again.

It had only been a week since the night Eddie still wasn’t sure he hadn’t hallucinated—where Steve had given Eddie a ride home without asking anything in return. Eddie had lived in terror for two days at school thinking Steve would pop up behind him and demand repayment.

“How’s the van?” Steve asked.

Because Eddie hadn’t said anything. And for some reason Steve was waiting there until he did.

“Waiting to go to the shop,” Eddie finally managed, swallowing hard. “Sharing the truck with my uncle.”

Steve nodded, standing with his hands in the pockets of his denim jacket. Eddie peered around the rack and noticed that Steve didn’t have any shopping bags. Or any clothes laid over his arms, ready to buy.

Eddie raised a brow. “Something catch your eye over here?”

“Uh.” Steve blinked, like he’d been caught. He frantically scanned the clothing rack, plucking out a jacket that looked nearly identical to the one he was wearing. “This one.”

“Very you, Harrington.”

Steve held it up to his chest. “You think?”

It was ridiculous that that made Eddie chuckle. He spent twenty minutes with the guy, and he was already laughing at his charming, jock personality. Because Steve had been pleasant during that ride, even when Eddie tested the limits by changing the radio to a metal station.

Then Steve held the jacket out to him.

“Try it on.”

Eddie stared at him, wide-eyed. Then at the jacket, and back. “I can barely afford the buttons on that thing. I shouldn’t even touch it.”

Steve gave him a flat look, and shook the jacket. Eddie set his hands on his hips, and they remained that way until Eddie was sure Steve’s arm was going to fall off before he gave in.

He rolled his eyes, and went to strip off his own leather jacket, leaving Steve to join him. Eddie expected to be handed the garment, but when Eddie was just in his long-sleeve, Steve was holding the jacket for Eddie to slide his arms into.

Holding his breath, Eddie turned his back to Steve and eased into it.

It didn’t have the give of Eddie’s well-worn jackets, but it was warm. He examined the fit against his body, and definitely not what he thought were Steve’s eyes trailing over his torso.

“Alright, it’s nice,” Eddie admitted, glancing at Steve from under his lashes. “One tip for you, though,”

Steve set his hands on his hips, raising his chin. “Oh yeah?”

Eddie put on his stage smile, wide and bold.

“Black. Always.”

“Can I, uh, get you a pretzel or something from the food court?”

Eddie thought he was surprised that they’d walked out of the store together. And then Steve asked him that.

He stared at Steve, the question echoing around in his skull like a ping-pong ball. And Steve…looked almost nervous, pink tongue darting out along his bottom lip. Between the good will of that snowfall drive and the easy way Steve had stayed at his side this whole time, Eddie didn’t have an answer as quick as he usually would.

He almost wanted to say yes.

But it was less his decision to actually make.

“I really have to get the truck back. My uncle’s shift is starting soon, and I don’t want to make him late…” Eddie turned his shoulder toward the exit.

 Steve nodded, lowering his head. “Right.”

“I’m sorry.”

Why was he apologizing? He’d never promised anything. He and Steve barely knew each other.

But maybe it was the somber way he’d made Steve say that same thing he had in his car in that knowing way—when now it was quite the opposite.

Steve recovered quickly, getting his hair out of his face with a quick movement. He put on that subtle smirk of his in the face of the rejection.

“It was nice to see you again,” he said.

“Yeah,” Eddie agreed, hearing the vapid state of his reply too late. “I mean, you too.”

Not better, Edward.

But Steve visibly held back a larger smile, rocking on his heels. Apparently, if Eddie wanted Steve not to think he was an utter waste case, he had to interact like a normal human.

“See you around?” Steve asked, pivoting like Eddie had never denied him.

And the mental whiplash had to be the only explanation for his answer.

“Sure.”

Part Three

[lovebugism]

Heat wave with Eddie and he's watching you on the other side of the couch and he wants you so bad but it's so hotttt

thanks for your request lovey!! — the one where you and eddie try to make the most of the heatwave (established relationship, implications of smut, 1.3k)

bug's summer fic fest ♡

Metal heads hate summer. It’s an unspoken fact. Wild hair, leather jackets, and denim jeans don’t fare well in the heat.

And while there were many bonuses to the warmer season — the music, the ice cream, and you in a bikini to name a few — it didn’t quell Eddie’s personal vendetta with summer. Or rather, summer’s personal vendetta with him.

The month of August was hardly more than an incessant heatwave. One hundred-degree heat, statewide. Without a cool breeze to fill the seasonal silence, there was nothing but a low sizzling sound — like burgers cooking on a grill. The two of you got into his van for a Slurpee run one simmering afternoon and suffered second-degree burns from the pleather cushions and metal seatbelts in the process.

It was miserable. Eddie was far too pale and he liked the color black far too much to find any enjoyment in the summer months. And just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse, the power goes out. 

And the only thing worse than a power outage during a heatwave is being horny during a power outage during a heatwave.

“The neighbor said there’s outages all over town—” Your voice comes muffled from where you pad around in the kitchen. “—So, we’ll probably be out for a while.”

You return to the living room wearing an old, white-ribbed tank top and a pair of Eddie’s plaid boxers, rolled at the hem to fit you better. You carry two glasses of lemonade in your hands, fogged with the cubes of ice you’d dropped into them before they could melt in the freezer. 

You’re too pretty for your own good. Eddie’s suffocated by the sweltering heat as much as he is by the overwhelming urge to touch you.

“Fuuuck,” he groans in response, sprawled out on the couch across the room. He’s barely moved from that spot all day. He only got up once to tie his hair back and then anxiously pace back and forth for several minutes. A few ornery curls stick to his forehead, damp with sweat. “Should we just, like, get a hotel or something?”

“With what money?” you scoff in place of a laugh.

His scrunched brows go lax. “Oh, yeah…”

“We’ll be okay. It’ll only be out for a couple more hours— at least.”

“Hours?” Eddie whines, all pinched-browed, as you hand him his lemonade.

You scrunch your nose down at the boy with a sympathetic gaze. “Think we can survive that long?”

“I’m withering away as we speak,” he deadpans.

“You’re so dramatic…” you giggle. The unkind words come out coated in a layer of sweet honey. You love him too much for anything else.

You pluck your book from the coffee table and plop down on the other side of the couch. You curl your knees to your chest, not having much room left over from Eddie’s longer legs. 

He’d tried to do the same an hour or more ago. He’d been too bored to read then. All the words melted together because his brain was swimming with heat. He doesn’t know how you’re doing it, honestly. All he knows is he can’t stop looking at you.

You’re a pretty little thing sitting across from him. So much of your skin is on display — arms, collarbones, ankles, and thighs. He wants to kiss every inch of you. He could if it wasn’t so damn hot. Now, all he can do is admire you from a distance and pray the power comes back soon so he can love you all over.

Eddie shifts on the couch for a few moments. He jostles the cushions beneath you as he twists on them, maneuvering so his legs are propped up on the coffee table and he’s slouching against the back of the sofa. 

His underwear rides up his pale thigh. The white undershirt he refuses to take off is damp at the collar with sweat.

You pay little attention to his fidgeting. He’s often restless, but especially when he’s got nothing to do. You feel his sticky fingers curl around your stickier calf a second later. His touch is soft and slow, sweet like syrup, as he smooths his hand up and down the back of your leg. 

You shoot the boy a look from over the top of your book. “You okay, Eds?”

“Other than melting?” he retorts with his head tilted to his shoulder. He shoots you a wide, fatigued grin through his reddened cheeks. “I’m peachy, sweetheart.”

“It’s a little too hot to be touching each other right now, babe,” you advise with your gaze turned back to the book in your lap. He keeps on caressing you, though, and you keep on letting him.

“I know…” he murmurs with a faint pout scrunching his features. His palm squeezes the top of your ankle before rising again. “I just miss you…”

“I’m right here,” you counter with a soft giggle.

“You know what I mean…”

“Yeah,” you concede with a sigh. “I know what you mean.”

If you had it your way, Eddie Munson would be touching you all the time. He usually is, anyway — but every second he’s not, it feels like you’re grieving. You’re made restless because of how underwhelmed you are, all grumpy because you’re so sticky with heat. You want so desperately to curl up in Eddie’s arms and hide there forever, but it’s already getting hard to breathe without the AC on. And the sweat’s making your clothes cling to your skin. The thought of physical affection right now makes you feel a bit sick.

He squeezes your calf again, this time to get your attention. 

Your eyes peek at him from over your book. You find his flushed face curled into a tired, yet still mischievous smirk. 

“And, you know, just for the record or whatever,” he lilts quietly with a twinkle in his chocolate syrup eyes. “If it wasn’t a billion degrees in here, I’d totally plow the shit outta you, sweetheart.”

Your eyes go wide at his words.

You might’ve laughed if you weren’t so immediately turned on.

You squeeze your knees together, clenching your thighs in hopes of soothing the ache that begins to pulsate between them. “Wow. That is… very forward of you, Eds.”

“I think the heat’s making me delirious,” he admits with his head tilted back against the couch. His pale, sticky neck is on display for you. You feel the sudden urge to sink your teeth into the milky white tendon there.

“Well, good thing about power outages in the summer — the cold water in the shower feels like heaven,” you tell him, feigning absentmindedness as you flip a page of your novel.

Eddie’s brows raise beneath his damp, curly bangs. He grins with a newfound light in his eyes. “Ooh,” he singsongs. “Are you implying what I think you’re implying?”

“I have… three more pages left in this chapter,” you tell the boy after flicking through the book. You shoot him a glance beneath your lashes — less obvious in your mischievous disposition but still sparkling with it anyway. You knock his thigh with your foot. “Go get undressed, loverboy.”

Your words bring him back to life. 

He surges with an energy he lost sometime between the late spring and early summer as he leaps off the couch. He nearly trips over the coffee table on his journey to the bathroom. His hurried footsteps stomp, stomp, stomp down the hallway.

You hear the shower faucet hiss on from a distance. It’s music to your ears. You know you’ll be in there all day — or, at least, until the power comes back on. You’re left suddenly hoping it won’t come on for another good while yet.

Not until Eddie makes you forget your name against the shower wall.

[vunblr]

Chains of Fate

Pairing: Destroyer!Chris x Female Reader

Warnings: 18+ only. Fluff. Smut. Unprotected sex.

Summary: A florist keeps having trouble with her bicycle, and Chris, her rugged mechanic neighbor, is always available to help. Or isn’t he?

Word Count: About 6.8k.

notes: Yup, this story isn’t about Bucky. After reading this story by @sashaisready featuring Destroyer!Chris the other day, I had an overwhelming urge to write something with him. It was an itch I just had to scratch and well, here we are.

When she closed the shop's door behind her, the late afternoon sun cast long shadows over the street. The aroma of the last plants she touched still clung to her hands as she fumbled to lock up. The bicycle leaned against the wall, her reliable companion in her daily routine.

Except today, it wasn’t so reliable. As soon as she set her hand on the handlebar, she noticed the chain dangling uselessly, smudged with grease, and utterly dislodged.

"Seriously?" she muttered, brushing a strand of hair from her face and crouching to inspect the damage. Her attempt to wrestle the chain back into place was met with resistance and a smear of black grease across her palm. With a resigned sigh, she glanced toward the mechanic shop next door.

The large garage doors were half-open, spilling the faint sound of a radio murmuring some old rock ballad. She hesitated. The other workers had surely gone home already, leaving the place unusually quiet.

The thought of asking him made her nervous and self-conscious. They’d spoken a dozen times, exchanging brief pleasantries when their paths crossed. He always looked like he belonged in an old motorcycle catalog: broad-shouldered with a padlock beard, hair shaved on the sides of his head, and effortlessly self-assured. Also, attractive. Very attractive.

As she predicted, he was still there, leaning against a workbench, the sleeves of his denim jacket cut clean to reveal his tattooed arms. His sharp features and unreadable expression gave him an edge that was as intimidating as magnetic.

Don’t overthink it. Just ask for help, she told herself. Still, her fingers fidgeted nervously as she wheeled the bike toward the shop.

"Hey, Chris?" she called softly.

He looked up, his piercing blue eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, he simply studied her, then he tossed the rag he’d been holding onto the bench. "What’s up?"

"My bike... The chain came off," she explained, gesturing toward it. "I was hoping you might be able to fix it, if it’s not too much trouble."

His lips curved slightly, a smirk that wasn’t unfriendly but held a flicker of something she couldn’t place. "Bring it here."

She rolled the bike closer, and he took it from her hands, their fingers brushing briefly. He turned it toward the stand, crouching low as he inspected the damage.

"You know," he said without looking up, "you could fix this yourself if you had the right tools."

"I guess I’m not very handy," she admitted softly.

He glanced up, smirking faintly. "Good thing you’ve got me, huh?" before she could answer, he returned his attention to the bike, muscles flexing as he worked the chain back into place. She found herself mesmerized, gazing at the strength in his forearms and the grease-streaked curve of his jawline.

"Something on your mind?" his voice broke the silence, and her heart jumped.

"No! I mean-" She flushed, caught staring. "Just...thank you. For helping." She glanced around the workshop, her eyes catching on the faint outline of a lipstick kiss smudged on an old coffee cup by a wooden table. Her stomach twisted. She wasn’t stupid, she’d seen the kind of women who came and went from here. Long legged, sun-kissed beauties, wearing barely there shorts, with loud laugh and bold hands.

Not exactly like her.

He stood, rolling his shoulders, the chain now secure in its place. He moved closer, his sharp blue eyes studying her in a way that made her self-conscious again. His smirk softened. "Next time it happens, come straight to me. Don’t try to fix it yourself."

She nodded. "So… how much do I owe you?" she asked after a beat, softer than she intended.

He wiped his hands on his jeans. "Nothing."

"Nothing?" she repeated, a little startled. "I don’t want to take advantage of you,” she stated. “You took the time-"

“Y/n,” he interrupted, his smirk fading into something more serious. “It’s just a bike chain. I’m not charging you for that.”

She bit her lip, unsure how to respond. The way he said her name made something flutter in her chest, and she cursed herself for letting it. She glanced down at her bike, hoping to steady her nerves. "Well, thank you. I really appreciate it."

As he handed her the bike back, his fingers lingered for a moment longer than necessary. "You’re welcome," he murmured, and she could swear his gaze flicked toward her lips.

She tightened her grip on the handlebars, offering him a small, grateful smile before wheeling her bike toward the door. As she turned the corner, she couldn’t help but glance back. He was leaning against the doorway, watching at her.

----------

The following day, she couldn’t focus. Not on the meticulous task of pruning succulents, nor the subtle rearranging of potted lavender displays. Her mind kept drifting back to the workshop next door. Specifically, to Chris.

She bit her lip, hands hovering over a basket of moss she’d been fluffing for far too long. It wasn’t just the gratitude she felt for him fixing her bike, it was the way his voice sounded when he said her name, the fleeting brush of his fingers as he handed her the handlebars, and damn, that stare.

By mid-morning, her resolve solidified. A thank-you was in order, a proper one. And if she were being honest, maybe she wanted an excuse to see him again. As the thought settled in her mind, she absently plucked at a stray leaf from one of her displays, and a memory came to her mind.

It was late summer, she’d been in a corner near the counter of the bakery, debating whether to get a cinnamon scone or stick to her usual croissant, when the doorbell chimed, and Chris strolled inside.

He was hard to miss, even in a crowd. Tall, broad-shouldered, denim jacket slung lazily over one arm. He’d made his way to the counter, nodding a greeting to the baker before ordering a box of assorted treats.

At the time, she’d assumed they weren’t for him. He didn’t seem the type to indulge in baked goods. Maybe the box was for his employees, or one of the women who frequented his workshop. But then, weeks later, she’d seen him again.

It was mid-afternoon, and she’d been sweeping the sidewalk in front of her shop when she noticed him sitting at the curb just down the street. He had the bakery box open on his lap, a brownie in hand, and his expression was uncharacteristically soft.

She had to do a double take, blinking in disbelief. Chris -the intimidating, sharp featured mechanic- was biting into the brownie like a kid savoring his favorite candy. A trace of a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, his usual hard edges momentarily softened in the golden light.

She’d stared longer than she should have, her broom forgotten in her hand. The sight had been… endearing, unexpected, and strangely magnetic. It lingered in her mind long after he wiped his fingers on his jeans and walked back to the workshop.

Now, standing in her shop, the memory made her smile. It also gave her an idea. If he had a soft spot for baked goods, why not lean into it?

Decided to give it a try, she flipped the sign on her door to Closed in the afternoon and hurried home. Baking wasn’t exactly her forte, but she could manage something simple. Something thoughtful. She sifted through her cupboards, pulling out cocoa powder, sugar, and butter. Chocolate cupcakes seemed perfect: rich, sweet, and easy enough to make without risking disaster.

The process wasn’t without its hiccups. Flour dusted all over her counter -and somehow her shirt-, and she almost forgot to preheat the oven. But as the cupcakes rose, the warm aroma of chocolate filled her small kitchen, and a satisfied smile spread across her face.

By the time the ganache was swirled on top and the sea salt sprinkled for flair, it was late. She packed the best of the batch carefully into a small box, tying it with twine.

Tomorrow, she thought, wiping her hands on a dish towel. Tomorrow, she’d thank Chris properly. And if she was lucky, maybe she’d get to see him smile like that again.

----------

The next morning, she arrived at her shop earlier than usual, the cupcake box nestled securely in the basket of her bike. Her heart raced as she pedaled through the quiet streets, rehearsing what she might say when she saw him.

As she rounded the corner near the workshop, her eyes immediately landed on Chris. He was standing at the garage doors, fumbling with the heavy lock, a slight scowl on his face. The sight made her smile, seeing someone so self-assured look momentarily frustrated was oddly endearing.

She braked to a gentle stop in front of her flower shop, propping her bike against the wall. Taking a deep breath, she grabbed the box and walked toward him.

“Morning, Chris,” she called softly, trying to steady her voice.

He looked up, and is scowl disappeared, replaced by a flicker of surprise. “Morning,” he replied, his voice gruff from the early hour. “You’re up early.”

“So are you,” she countered, her lips curving into a small smile. She stepped closer, holding the box in front of her. “I, uh… I wanted to thank you for helping me with my bike the other day. Properly, this time.”

His gaze shifted to the box in her hands, one brow quirking slightly. “What’s this?”

She bit her lip, feeling uncharacteristically shy. “Just a little something. I… made you cupcakes.”

Chris blinked, as though trying to process her words. “You baked me cupcakes?” he repeated, his tone hovering between surprise and amusement.

“Yes.” She hesitated, glancing down at the box. “I know it’s not much, but… I really appreciated your help, and I thought… well, you seemed to like sweets, so…”

His lips twitched, the corner pulling into a faint smirk. “You noticed that, huh?”

Her cheeks warmed. “I might’ve seen you at the bakery once or twice.”

Chris chuckled, low and warmly. He reached out, his rough fingers brushing hers as he took the box. “This wasn’t necessary, you know.”

“I wanted to,” she said quickly, meeting his gaze. “It’s just a thank-you.”

For a moment, he studied her with a soft expression that made her stomach flutter. “Well, thank you,” he murmured. He peeped inside the box, then back at her. “I’ll have to try them later. If they’re as good as it looks, I might have to hire you as my personal baker.”

She laughed nervously. “Don’t get your hopes up. Baking isn’t exactly my forte.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” he said, with a growing smirk.

She shifted on her feet, unsure of what else to say. “Well, I should get back to my shop. Have a good morning.”

“You too.” He murmured. As she turned to leave, she felt his gaze linger, and it took everything in her not to glance back.

----------

It was later than usual when she finally locked up the flower shop. The delivery truck earlier in the afternoon brought far more than she’d expected, and sorting through the dozens of plants had turned into an all-day affair. She was tired, her hands aching a little from hauling pots and unpacking boxes, but it was a good kind of tired, that came with satisfaction.

She grabbed her bike from where it was propped against the wall outside and prepared to head home, already looking forward to a quiet dinner and a hot bath. But when she tried to pedal, the resistance was immediate. The familiar, dreaded clink of the chain greeted her ears.

Her brows furrowed. Again?

Her first instinct was to crouch down and take a look, but she paused, remembering Chris’s words: “Next time it happens, come straight to me. Don’t try to fix it yourself.” It had been a direct instruction, accompanied by a pointed look, and though she didn’t like feeling helpless, she also didn’t want to make things worse.

With a reluctant sigh, she wheeled the bike over to the garage next door. The overhead door was still partially open, spilling soft light onto the pavement, though the space beyond looked quiet. She hesitated at the threshold before stepping inside, her voice tentative.

“Chris?”

There was no immediate response, but a moment later, a door creaked open.

Her breath caught at the sight before her eyes.

Chris stepped out of the small bathroom at the back of the garage, barefoot, wearing only a pair of well-worn jeans that clung low on his hips and a towel that hung loosely around his neck. His chest and abs were still damp, droplets of water catching the light as they slid down his skin, evidence of a quick rinse before heading home. He stopped mid-step when he saw her, his brows lifting in surprise for the briefest moment. Then, slowly, a wicked smile spread across his face, and he pressed his tongue against the inside of his cheek, the gesture both lazy and deliberate.

“Well, Poppy,” he drawled, his voice low and amused. “Couldn’t stay away, huh?”

Her cheeks heated instantly at the nickname, and she gripped the handlebars of her bike tighter, suddenly hyper-aware of how small the space felt with him standing there. “My chain,” she said quickly, gesturing to the offending bike. “It came off again.”

He tilted his head, still grinning as he sauntered toward her. “Did it now?” His tone was almost teasing, and she couldn’t help but feel like there was something unspoken in his words.

“Yeah,” she agreed, clearing her throat. “So… here I am. Like you said.”

Chris stopped just a foot away, his gaze dropping to the bike and then back to her face, his smirk never faltering. “You’re a good listener,” he remarked, crouching down to inspect the chain. “Most people think they know better and end up making a bigger mess.”

She crossed her arms, trying to ignore the way her pulse quickened as his shoulders flexed with the movement. “Well, you made it pretty clear not to touch it.”

“Smart girl,” he murmured, more to himself than to her.

As he worked, his fingers deftly maneuvering the chain back into place, she studied him, trying to distract herself from the warmth creeping up her neck. There was something about his expression, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

“You seem… amused by this,” she observed, narrowing her eyes slightly.

Chris glanced up at her, his grin softening into something more boyish, though no less mischievous. “Do I?”

“Yes,” she shot back, though her voice lacked the bite she intended.

He straightened, brushing his hands on his jeans as he inspected his work. “There. Good as new,” He leaned casually against the bike, and the smirk returned, slow and deliberate.

“Guess you’ll just have to keep coming back,” he added, replacing the boyish smile with the smirk again.

Something about the way he said it… no, she was imagining things. She shook the thought away, offering a polite smile instead. “Thanks,” she murmured. “Let’s hope I don’t have to. I’ve bothered you enough already.”

He didn’t reply immediately, just chuckled low. A rich, warm sound that made her stomach flutter despite herself. Reaching for the towel draped around his neck, he tossed it over his shoulder, his smirk never fading.

“Guess we’ll see,” he replied, his tone dripping with mirth.

She gave him a quick nod, gripping the handlebars of her bike as she turned toward the door. As she wheeled it out of the workshop, she could feel his gaze on her the entire time, heavy and lingering.

----------

It couldn’t be just a coincidence, and she didn’t believe in hexes. As she stepped outside the shop the next day and tried to ride her bike, only to find the chain dislodged again, she was sure Chris had something to do with it.

But why? Was he bored and was using her as a form of distraction? Did he catch on to her little crush and find joy in teasing her? The thoughts simmered in her chest, leaving a heat that burned more from frustration than embarrassment.

Biting her lip, she squared her shoulders and left the bike leaning against the wall. Her resolve hardened as she stormed toward the garage, striding straight through the open door. The bang of it slamming shut behind her echoed in the quiet space.

There he was, perched casually on the edge of a workbench, a giant biscuit in hand. His broad shoulders hunched slightly as he chewed, and he looked up at her with a genuine flicker of surprise in his icy blue eyes. Good. Let him be surprised.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” she hissed, her tone sharp enough to cut through the air.

He didn’t answer immediately, his poker face slipping into place as he leisurely took another bite of his biscuit. She marched closer, the click of her boots on the concrete floor punctuating her frustration.

“You think it’s funny, huh?” she snapped, her voice rising. “Messing with my bike to entertain yourself like some immature teenager?”

This... was not how he pictured this would go.

Chris blinked at her, caught off guard by the fiery edge in her tone and the determination blazing in her eyes. He hadn’t accounted for this, hadn’t considered that the sweet, flustered woman next door might come stomping into his workshop like a storm ready to unleash hell.

And damn if it wasn’t kind of hot.

The corner of his mouth twitched, but he suppressed the smirk threatening to form, masking his features into neutrality. Okay, Poppy’s got thorns, he thought, his nickname for her taking on a new meaning. His smooth plan -one that felt straight out of a cheesy romcom, the kind his friends always mocked him for enjoying - was spiraling quickly out of control.

“Are you just going to sit there and stare or are you going to explain yourself?” she pressed, crossing her arms. Her cheeks were flushed, and her frustration was palpable.

He swallowed the last of the biscuit, brushing the crumbs from his hands. “Explain what, exactly?” he drawled, calm but with a hint of amusement.

“My bike,” she snapped, pointing toward the door. “The chain’s off again, and I know you have something to do with it.”

Chris finally let the smirk slip, pressing his tongue to the inside of his cheek as he stood, the movement slow and deliberate. “Maybe you should take better care of it,” he advised, in a low and teasing tone

Her eyes narrowed, and he could almost see the steam rising off her.

“Don’t play dumb,” she shot back. “You told me not to touch it, to bring it to you, and now, magically, it keeps breaking?”

He stepped closer, his hands sliding casually into his pockets. “And yet, here you are,” he murmured, deepening his infuriating smirk.

Her glare faltered for the briefest moment as she registered his words. Indeed, he was doing it on purpose.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she breathed, her voice dripping with disbelief.

“Guess you figured me out,” he admitted, his voice dipping lower as he stepped closer, vanishing the space between them. Their bodies almost touched, and his heat radiated against her skin. “What are you gonna do about it, Poppy?”

That sultry tone, paired with the teasing lilt in his words, sent a wave of electricity coursing through her body, nearly making her knees give out. But she forced herself to stand firm, her chin tilting upward to meet his gaze.

Before she could stop herself -before her rational side could intervene- her hand shot out, slapping him across the face.

The sharp sound echoed in the quiet garage.

Chris’s head snapped slightly to the side, the sting blooming on his cheek. His free hand instinctively flexed at his side as he turned back to her with a stunned expression, as though he truly hadn’t seen that coming.

“Okay,” he muttered, almost to himself.

She didn’t give him time to recover. “I didn’t think you were such an asshole, Chris,” she spat, her voice trembling with anger, her chest heaving. “You have all those women fawning over you nonstop, and this-” she gestured between them, her voice breaking with frustration” was completely unnecessary. I hope your little game entertained you enough. Your stupid neigh-”

He cut her off the only way he could think of.

By kissing her.

The motion was swift. His hand slid around her waist, keeping her in place as his lips crashed against hers. It wasn’t a soft, tentative kiss. It was firm, heated, and unapologetically bold, the kind that stole the breath right out of her lungs.

For a split second, her mind went blank, her anger eclipsed by the unexpected intensity of his actions. She froze, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer.

His lips softened slightly, coaxing rather than demanding, as if asking her to meet him halfway.

And damn it, she did.

Her hands found their way to his chest, whether to shove him or steady herself, she couldn’t tell.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against hers, and his breath was hot against her lips. “Now,” he murmured “are you gonna call me an asshole again, or should I keep going?”

Her eyes snapped open and her cheeks flamed as she registered his mischievous and utterly unrepentant smirk. Her chest rose and fell, words stuck in her throat as he leaned closer, his lips curling into a knowing grin. "That's what I thought," he murmured, his voice low and taunting, before capturing her lips again.

This time, the kiss was deeper, hungrier. His hand slid from her waist to her hip, pulling her flush against him, while the other cradled the back of her neck. Her protest melted into a soft moan as his tongue parted her lips, exploring her with confidence.

Her hands found their way to his shoulders, clutching at the firm muscles beneath his shirt as he walked her backward, guiding her toward the little office at the side of the workshop without breaking the kiss. When her thighs hit the edge of the desk, he took the opportunity to press his body even closer.

His name on her lips only seemed to spur him on, his kisses growing fiercer and insistent. The room was filled with the sounds of their ragged breaths and the scrape of papers and stationery being pushed aside as he lifted her onto the desk, stepping between her knees with a possessive grip on her thighs.

He pulled back just enough to meet her gaze. "You can still walk out of here," he rasped, though the way his thumb traced lazy circles on her inner thigh suggested he knew the answer already.

Her lips parted, but instead of answering, she grabbed the collar of his shirt and yanked him back to her. That was all the permission he needed.

Chris’s hands gripped her thighs firmly, pulling her hips closer to the edge of the desk as he kissed her like he was starved. His teeth grazed her bottom lip, drawing a gasp from her mouth, which he swallowed with a low, satisfied growl. One hand slipped under the waistband of her cotton shorts, rough fingers skimming over the soft fabric of her underwear, teasing but not quite daring enough to push further… yet.

“Fuck,” he murmured against her lips, his breath hot and ragged. “You’re driving me crazy, you know that?”

Her nails dug into his shoulders, as he trailed his mouth down her jaw to the sensitive spot just below her ear. She shivered, her head tilting instinctively to give him better access.

“You think this is fair?” she managed to gasp, with a trembling voice as his fingers edged lower, brushing over her clothed pussy. “Messing with me like that?”

He smirked against her skin, his lips trailing down to the hollow of her throat. “Fair’s overrated,” he muttered, nipping at her collarbone. “Besides, you didn’t seem to mind earlier.”

Her retort died in her throat as his hand slipped beneath the elastic of her panties, and, without preamble, he slid two fingers inside her, groaning low in his throat at the feel of her warm pussy clenching around them. “You’re so goddamn wet,” he rasped, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. “Was all that attitude just for show, Poppy? You have been wanting this as bad as I have?”

She couldn’t answer, not with the way his fingers curled, hitting a spot that made her gasp and clutch at his shoulders. Her nails dug into his skin through his shirt, and she felt his smirk against her neck before he nipped at her pulse.

“Exactly what I thought,” he stated, his voice laced with smug satisfaction as his thumb found her clit, circling it in a way that had her thighs trembling. “You’ve been waiting for me to take you apart, haven’t you?”

Her only response was a desperate moan, as her hips ground against his hand, chasing the pleasure he was so expertly coaxing out of her. He didn’t relent, adding more pressure to his movements, his breath hot against her skin as he kissed and bit along her collarbone.

“Say it,” he demanded, as his fingers plunged deeper. “Tell me how bad you want it, Poppy.”

“I… please” she whined trying to press herself harder against his hand.

Chris chuckled darkly against the sensitive skin of her neck. “Please, what?” he teased, his fingers slowing just enough to make her whimper in frustration. “Use your words, sweetheart. I want to hear you say it.”

Her pride warred with her need, but the desperate ache building inside her won out. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she tilted her head back, exposing her throat in a silent plea. “I need to cum,” she whispered, with a trembling voice. “Please, Chris.”

“That’s my girl,” he growled, his lips crashing back onto hers as he pumped his fingers harder, the slick sounds of her arousal filling the small office. His thumb pressed firmly against her clit, drawing a broken cry from her as her hips bucked wildly against his hand.

Her legs felt weak, her body trembling under the relentless assault of his touch. He pulled back just enough to watch her face, his eyes dark with hunger. “You gonna come for me, Poppy?” he asked, his voice low and rough. “Right here, with my fingers buried in this pretty little pussy?”

That was all it took. Her body tensed, her walls clenching around his fingers as the wave of pleasure crashed over her. She cried out, her nails dragging down his back as her orgasm left her trembling in his arms.

Chris didn’t stop until her shudders subsided, pulling his fingers out slowly and bringing them to his mouth. His eyes never left hers as he licked them clean, with a satisfied smirk on his face. “Sweetest fucking thing I’ve ever tasted,” he murmured.

Before she could recover, he was reaching for the hem of her shirt, his intentions clear as his eyes roamed her flushed, trembling body. “We’re not done yet, Poppy,” he said, his grin wicked. “Not even close.”

Her body was still trembling from the aftershocks, but her mind was beginning to clear, and with clarity came a surge of boldness. As Chris pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it somewhere across the room, she caught his wrist, halting his next move.

“Do you always pull stunts like this?” she asked, breathless but with a hint of sharpness in her tone.

He raised an eyebrow, his smirk still firmly in place. “What, you mean fixing your bike?”

Her eyes narrowed, and she gave his chest a push, not hard enough to create distance, but enough to make her point. “Sabotaging it, you mean,” she shot back, her lips curving into a small smile despite herself.

Chris didn’t deny it. Instead, he leaned in, his mouth brushing against hers as he murmured, “Worked, didn’t it?”

Her retort was interrupted by his hand sliding up her thigh, fingers tracing a slow, teasing path over her bare skin. She bit her lip, trying to hold onto her composure. “You could’ve just asked me out, you know,” she managed, her voice wavering as his hand crept higher.

His grin widened. “Where’s the fun in that?”

She rolled her eyes, but her breath hitched as his hand slipped beneath the waistband of her shorts, cupping her possessively. “You’re insufferable,” she muttered, though her hands betrayed her words as they gripped his forearms, nails digging in as he teased her.

“And you’re gorgeous when you’re pissed off,” he countered, his voice dropping an octave.

Her laugh was soft but shaky, cut short when he slid her shorts and panties down in one swift motion, leaving her bare before him. He stepped back slightly to take her in, his gaze burning as it swept over her flushed skin. “Fucking perfect,” he muttered, almost to himself.

She felt heat flood her face, but instead of retreating into shyness, she stepped forward, placing her hands on his belt and tugging him closer. Her fingers worked at the buckle with purpose, though she glanced up at him with a smirk of her own. “You’re not the only one who gets to have fun, you know,”

Chris groaned, his hands gripping her hips as he watched her undo his belt, anticipation clear in his darkened eyes. “Careful, Poppy,” he warned, though there was no real threat in his tone, just raw, unfiltered need.

“Or what?” she challenged, her fingers sliding beneath the waistband of his jeans to push them down.

He didn’t answer with words. Instead, he grabbed her wrists and guided her back toward the desk, his lips crashing against hers in a kiss that left no room for argument. He lifted her effortlessly, settling her on the edge as his mouth moved down her neck, leaving a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses.

Her head fell back with a gasp, her hands rummaged against his shaved head as his beard scraped against her skin. “Chris,” she breathed, the sound of his name a plea that made him growl against her collarbone.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his voice rough as his hands roamed her body, mapping every curve.

Her words snapped whatever fragile thread of restraint he’d been clinging to. He surged forward, capturing her lips in a searing kiss. It was all teeth and tongue, rough and consuming, as his hands gripped her hips like he was staking a claim.

Her nails raked down his back, as her hips shifted to meet his. “I want you to fuck me."

“Say it again,” he rasped against her lips, his voice low and gravelly.

She trembled, her nails kept digging into his back as her legs wrapped around his waist. “I want you to fuck me,” she repeated, her voice tinted with a mix of desperation and challenge.

“Good girl,” he growled, reaching between them to line himself up. With one hard thrust, he buried himself inside her, drawing a sharp cry from her lips as her body arched against his.

The desk creaked beneath them, the sound mingling with their ragged breaths and the low, guttural groan Chris let out as he began to move. His rhythm was relentless, each thrust pushing her closer to the edge as he held her firmly in place, one hand gripping her behind her knee and the other gripping the nape of her neck.

“Fuck, Poppy,” he muttered, his lips brushing against her ear as he spoke. “You feel so damn good.”

Her hands clawed at his back, her head falling backward as his pace quickened. “Chris,” she gasped, her voice breaking on his name as her body tightened around him. The way he filled her, the intensity of his movements, it was overwhelming, intoxicating, everything she hadn’t known she needed.

He tilted back her head by the hair, his lips finding hers again in a kiss that was more raw than refined, his teeth catching her lower lip before he pulled back to look at her. “You’re mine,” he said, his voice a guttural growl that didn’t leave place for argument.

“Yes,” she whimpered, her nails scraping against his scalp as her thighs clenched around his waist.

The admission seemed to snap something in him. He shifted his angle, his thrusts hitting deeper, harder, each one drawing a broken moan from her lips. Her hands flew to the edge of the desk, gripping it for stability as her body shook with the force of his movements.

Her climax hit her hard, her vision went white as her body clenched around him. She cried out his name, raw and breathless as the pleasure overtook her. Chris followed moments later, as his hips jerked against hers one final time as he came with a soft groan, his release flooding her as he sank deep, unable to hold back any longer.

They stayed like that for a moment, bodies connected, and breaths mingling as they came down from the high. Chris pressed his forehead to hers, his lips curving into a lazy, satisfied smirk.

“Still think I’m an asshole?” he teased, his voice rough but filled with amusement.

She let out a breathless laugh, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. “Oh, you’re definitely an asshole,” she replied, despite the sated look in her eyes.

He chuckled softly, but then silence settled between them. His gaze shifted to the floor, his hand running through his hair as if to busy himself. She tilted her head, sensing his sudden unease.

After a beat, he let out a sigh, furrowing his brows. “I didn’t think you would say yes,” he confessed, almost hesitant.

She blinked at him, her fingers pausing their lazy strokes on his chest. “Say yes to what?”

He bit his lip, clearly debating whether to answer. Finally, he sighed again, his eyes lifting to meet hers, though they held a vulnerable edge now. “When you told me I could just have asked you out,” he admitted, his words a little rushed, like getting them out quickly would make them easier to say.

Her gaze softened at the sight of his cheeks turning pink, the blush spreading up to his ears. He looked so different like this, shy and unsure. It was a stark contrast to the cocky, self-assured man she’d come to know. It reminded her of the way he looked when she’d caught him eating her baked goods on the sidewalk, his face lighting up like a kid at Christmas.

“Chris,” she said softly, pulling his gaze back to hers. “Why wouldn’t I?”

His hand rubbed the back of his neck, a sheepish smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I don’t know. You’re… you. And I’m me. I guess I just figured… hell, I don’t know.” He laughed awkwardly, shaking his head as if to dismiss the thought. “That’s why I thought maybe…”

“Maybe what?” she pressed gently.

He flushed deeper, his hand falling to his side as he let out a resigned breath. “If I kept fixing your bike, it’d give me a reason to see you. Even if you weren’t interested. And maybe… eventually…”

Her lips parted in surprise, and for a moment, she just stared at him. Then, a slow, amused smile crept across her face. “So, you’ve been sabotaging my bike this whole time just to spend time with me?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper as he ducked his head. “Pretty stupid, huh?”

Her laugh was warm and bright, and when he glanced up at her, she was grinning. “Chris,” she said, reaching up to brush her fingers along his jaw, “you really are an asshole. But you’re a cute one.”

That earned her a boyish grin, the confidence starting to creep back into his expression. “Cute, huh?” he teased, leaning in until their noses nearly touched.

She rolled her eyes playfully but didn’t pull away. “Don’t let it go to your head.”

His grin softened, but before he could respond, she added, “Also… I never thought you’d be interested in me. I’m not your usual… cup of tea.”

The playful spark in his eyes faded into something warmer, more serious. He leaned back just enough to study her face, his brows furrowing. “What makes you think that?”

She shrugged, her fingers fidgeting against his chest. “I’ve seen the women who hang around you, Chris. They’re all so… well, let’s say I don’t exactly fit that mold. I guess I just figured someone like you wouldn’t look twice at someone like me.”

Chris’s jaw clenched, his hands slid to rest firmly on her waist. “First off, that’s bullshit. You’re gorgeous, smart, and you’ve got this thing about you…” He paused, his lips quirking into a small, lopsided smile. “You’re real, Poppy. And if you haven’t noticed, I’ve been looking a hell of a lot more than twice.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she bit her lip, unable to suppress a small, bashful smile. “You’re just saying that because I slept with you,” she teased lightly, though her voice wavered just a little.

His expression turned serious again, his thumb brushing over her cheek. “I’m saying it because it’s true. I’ve wanted you since the first time you walked out of your shop six months ago, all wide-eyed and nervous to exhibit some plants in the sidewalk. You had a yellow apron full of poppies.”

She blinked in surprise. “You… remember that?”

His expression softened, a small, almost shy smile tugging at his lips. “Of course, I remember. How could I not?” His thumb continued its gentle caress over her cheek. “You were fussing over every little detail, making sure each pot was lined up just right. I was watching you from the garage and thinking how someone could be so damn... adorable.”

She blinked again, stunned. “Adorable?”

“Yeah,” he said, his voice dipping lower. “You had smudges of dirt on your face, a little furrow in your brow like the whole world would fall apart if one of those plants was crooked. And that apron…” He grinned, his eyes glinting with affection. “It had those poppies on it, and I thought, Poppy. It just… fit you.”

Her cheeks burned, the memory suddenly vivid in her own mind. She’d been so self-conscious that day, trying to make a good impression in the neighborhood. “I had no idea you noticed me,” she murmured.

“Are you kidding?” he asked, a soft laugh escaping him. “I couldn’t not notice you. I kept trying to come up with excuses to walk by, hoping you’d look up and say hi. But you didn’t even glance my way.”

She bit her lip, feeling a pang of guilt. “I was so focused on not messing up… I didn’t even think to look around.”

“Well,” he said, his grin returning as he leaned in closer, “I guess I just had to get creative after that.”

Her lips quirked in a wry smile. “Creative like messing with my bike?”

He winced, his blush deepening. “Yeah, maybe not my best plan. But it worked, didn’t it?”

She rolled her eyes, but there was no mistaking the warmth in her smile. “You’re lucky it did.”

Chris chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Okay, but watching you storm in here like a little spitfire? Worth every second.”

She swatted at his chest, though her laugh undermined the gesture. “You’re the worst.”

“Yeah, but I’m your worst now,” he replied pulling her closer by the waist.

She arched a brow, giving him a deadpan look. “You just called yourself my worst. That’s not exactly a glowing endorsement, you know that, don’t you?”

“Fine, let me try again.” He caressed her cheek and pressed his forehead against hers “What about… I’m your guy now?”

She felt a flutter in her stomach at his words. Biting her lip, she hesitated for just a second before leaning in, brushing her lips softly against his.

“Much better,” she smiled, her gaze locked on his.

Chris’s grin widened, his cockiness tempered by something gentler. His hand slid up to cradle the back of her head, pulling her closer for another kiss.

Outside, the faint chirp of crickets signaled the end of the day, but inside the garage, time felt suspended, wrapped in the warmth of shared smiles and the lingering taste of the kiss.

“Guess I should fix your bike now,” Chris finally murmured, his voice low and teasing, though his thumb still brushed lightly against her cheek as if he couldn’t bear to stop touching her.

She laughed softly, the sound carrying over the music. “Maybe I’ll let you if you promise not to sabotage it again.”

His smirk was immediate, wickedness returning in full force. “Can’t do, Poppy. You looked way too damn hot storming in here.”

She swatted his chest, as the song faded into another, its upbeat tempo matching the rhythm of her fluttering heart.

Dividers by @/strangergraphics

[bangaveragewhitewine]

crazy-mad for you

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

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

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

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

Word count: 16.7 K

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

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

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

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

Dividers by me ✌️

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, hotshot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Listen dickh-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trip her? Oh. He means you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The whiskey burns but you barely feel it. 

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

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

As you take another sip, the door swings open. 

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

“Hey, you okay?”

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

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

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

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

“Ed…”

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

Your jaw drops, “You’re blaming me?” 

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

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

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

The air between you is charged and heavy. 

I want to. What does that mean? 

Eddie covers himself quickly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very gentle,” he murmurs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nuh-uh. You like fries?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm. You gonna laugh at me?”

“Probably.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. Definitely not. S’why I left.”

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

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

“Perv.”

“Witch.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rum. And Coke.”

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

“Eddie. He was the owner.” 

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

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

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

“Jesus, the woman needs fries - stat.”

“And a Coke?”

“And a Coke.” 

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

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

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

“I’ve had worse.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You squeeze his hand, he squeezes back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“D’you hate it?” you ask carefully.

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

His smile makes your tummy flutter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re feeling brave. Eddie is too. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You muffle your laugh against his black t-shirt. 

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

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

“Well then…” you say quietly. 

“Well then indeed…” Eddie echoes. 

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

“Eddie?” 

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should be so lucky.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You gonna behave?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuhhh- Eddie.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You feel unreal, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[loserboysandlithium]

Summertime: Billy Hargrove One Shot

18+, explicit sexual content. Minors DNI

Word count: 3.2k

A/N: I had a request for some Bills and my writing brain has been shit lately so I’m moving over an old one shot from wattpad. @billysbot I hope this is okay for now and I’ll get to your request asap. 🤭🖤

*******

Summer. Fucking finally. The warm night air hits your face as you walk outside towards the cooler searching for something to help you relax. Parties weren’t always your favorite thing but it was a good way to kick off the summer. A nice time to relax and one of the only fun things to do here.

You check out the scene, a crowd of people around the keg stand, a group by the fire, and a few girls fighting for the attention of Steve Harrington.

He is one handsome guy. You watch as he runs his fingers through his fluffy brown hair, the girl directly in front of him reaching out to touch it, giggling flirtatiously as he gives her a sweet smile. Even after graduation, Steve always threw the best parties in Hawkins.

You suddenly hear a shout from your left as you grab yourself a beer, popping it open.

“The keg king has returned!” a guy shouts in the distance.

Tommy. You roll your eyes, the noise from the party already starting to give you a slight headache. I need more alcohol.

“Billy Hargrove, what did we do to deserve this?” another loud voice booms, followed by a laugh.

The name catches your attention and your head whips around to see him standing there with a bold smile on his face.

He looks about the same. Tight denim clinging to his muscular thighs. He turns and you catch a glimpse of his ass, his jeans showing you every curve perfectly.

That ass. You quickly finish your beer, this time reaching for the whiskey, pouring a bit into your cup before walking a little closer to all the commotion. The crowd is loud as guys and girls alike come to welcome him back.

He left last year for college along with a few others. Most of you were stuck there. Going to community college or working full-time jobs.

You had hooked up with Billy one time before he left for California. The backseat of his Camaro. You hadn't gone all the way but the things you had done were stuck in your brain since last summer. It was a night you thought about often.

He turns your way and your eyes meet his. You instantly feel your face flush and try to conceal it behind the red plastic cup, taking a large gulp.

A white t-shirt fits firmly against his body, a black leather jacket thrown on top. His sandy curls look a little more taken care of, a little smoother, one curl spiraled to perfection on his forehead.

He winks and smiles that charming smile as he squeezes through the crowd, heading your way.

Fuck me.

“There you are.” he huffs as he comes to a stop in front of you. His cologne fills your nose, the aroma immediately sending you back in time, the memory of last year clear as day.

His soft lips on yours, his fingers working you to your peak so effortlessly. It was like a dream.

“That feel good, baby?” he mumbled in your ear as his thick fingers glided in and out.

“So good, Billy.” you moaned breathlessly, your head falling back against his leather seats as he leaned over you.

He chuckled deeply, his fingers working in and out slowly before he curled them slightly, pressing into your g spot, making you bite down on your lip, a small whimper escaping.

“R-right there..” you gasped, rolling your hips, grinding on his hand. No one had ever been able to get you off before and Billy knew exactly what he was doing.

“Mmm… That's it, baby,” he murmured against your lips as your eyes fell shut.

“H-holy shit..” you moaned loudly as your thighs began to tremble. His two fingers precisely stroking across your sweet spot. His thumb moving up and down your soaked slit, brushing against your clit over and over.

You had completely lost yourself in the moment, the pleasure something you had never experienced by the hand of another.

“I can't wait to hear you cum.” he burned, his words bringing you closer and closer until you finally fell apart, your cries filling the small space in the car, Billy encouraging you to scream his name. And you did. Again and again…

Billy’s smooth voice saying your name brings you back to reality and your face reddens again. You still haven't had an orgasm like that since.

“Something on your mind?” he teases, reaching down and snagging a beer for himself.

You quickly shake your head and give him a soft smile. “Just thinking about last summer… How is school? California looks like it's treating you well.” you state sweetly, stepping slightly closer to him.

You take in every detail of his pretty face. His sun-kissed skin dusted with freckles, his long dark lashes such a contrast to his light curls, his lips plump and soft, his mustache trimmed neatly.

Now that he was here, no one else at this party could catch your eye. He was so alluring. So addictive.

Billy smiles as he pats his pockets for his smokes, pulling one out and offering it your way. You take it and place it between your lips, Billy reaches out lighting the cigarette for you before taking the flame to his own.

He inhales deeply, slowly releasing the smoke before he speaks.

“It’s been good. You know, same old shit.” he shrugs casually, his eyes stuck on you. You watch as his gaze travels from your face all the way down your body and back up, his lips curling into a smile.

You shift your feet, your Converse kicking the dirt as you feel his eyes on you. You were happy you had forced yourself into a dress tonight instead of your usual t-shirt and shorts. It was a deep red, riding high on your thighs, sculpting your body in all the right places.

“You look good, sweetheart.” he compliments, his tone warm and sugary. Another little wink in your direction making your heart speed up in your chest.

“So do you. You look really good. I like this shirt.” you gush, your hand reaching out to touch his chest. You can feel the firmness of his muscles underneath the skin-tight shirt. His body tenses under your touch as your hand slowly trails across his stomach.

“It looks better off,” he suggests playfully, his blue eyes glinting under the moonlight.

“Do you wanna swim?” you blurt out quickly, making him laugh.

“I didn’t bring a swimsuit.” he teases, his hand reaching out to tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

“Me neither.” Your voice comes out hoarse as he looms over you.

His fingertips ghost across your thigh as you look up at him.

“Anything under this?” he whispers, his voice deep and low as he lightly tugs on the hem of your dress.

You nod, your entire body tingling from the sensation of his fingers against your skin.

“Let’s go.”

********

“You want me to swim in my underwear?” you stare at him as he begins to unbuckle his belt.

“Mhmm..” he hums lightly, shuffling out of his jeans. His jacket was next, then his shirt. Leaving him standing there in his boxer briefs, his perfect body on full display.

You cross your arms surveying the area, Only a few people were in the pool, most of the party was inside dancing or getting drunk. Billy raises an eyebrow in your direction and you bite down on your lip.

“It’s not like I haven’t seen it before.” he presses, walking closer. His hand rests on your waist, pulling you close, his body is warm against yours as his lips meet your ear.

“You weren’t shy when you were screaming my name, baby.” His breath tickles your ear, his words making you throb. His hand reaches around your back, taking your zipper in his fingers, slowly drawing it down.

“Or when you sucked my dick and swallowed every bit of my cum..” he continues, the zipper coming to a stop just above your ass. “Remember that night?” He rasps as his hand moves to your shoulder, gently pulling the strap of your dress down your arm.

“I think about it all the time.” you admit quietly as he works the other strap.

“I know you do.” he boasts, a smile playing on his lips as he pulls your dress to the concrete.

Billy’s POV

I was hoping she’d be here. Cute little thing. Sweet fucking pussy. I remember sucking her off of my fingers. And those lips.. fuck they felt good wrapped around my cock.

I can tell when I make a girl cum for the first time. It’s so gratifying. Hearing their cries, their moans, their surprise as they realize how good sex can be. There are way too many women who haven’t been pleased right. I bet she hasn’t gotten off like that since I left. But tonight, I’m gonna fuck her. Give her everything Billy Hargrove has to offer. I can’t wait to blow her fucking mind.

I watch as she kicks her dress to the side and slips out of her shoes. There are a few people on the other end of the pool, a couple making out, a few guys roughhousing.

Doesn’t matter. I’m about to make her squeal. Audience or no audience.

I reach out for her hand and her slender fingers intertwine with mine as we make our way toward the pool steps. I step down into the water, it’s a little chillier than I expected but it feels nice as we step deeper into the pool. I turn to see her with little goosebumps spread across her arms. Her nipples hard against the thin fabric of her lace bra.

She’s a fucking sight. Her perfect ass on display, her tiny panties barely hiding anything. The moonlight casts a glow across her body as you drink her in.

I’m excited to hear her cry my name again. The way she screamed just from my fingers.. Fuck, this is gonna be fun.

Her eyes shine bright as she peeks over at me. A slight smile on her face. A dark red lipstick painted on her soft lips.

Her little shy act is cute too. But she won’t be able to maintain it for long. Soon she’ll be begging me to do filthy things to her. And I’ll happily comply.

I normally would have gone for someone new but there was something about her that made me crave more. I've thought about her many times since I left. I'm not in love but the girl is something and I'm eager to have more.

I can tell she's thinking the same as she wades into the water, beckoning for me to come closer. She swims to the corner of the pool and I dive in, following behind her. I come out of the water, face to face with her. Her mascara runs slightly, leaving little black smudges under her eyes.

I love that shit. Though it’s normally caused by them gagging.

I press up against her lightly and take note of her body’s reaction to me. Her gaze falls from my eyes to my lips and back up again. Her chest moves up and down rapidly. A small bite of her lip, her body leaning into me.

Mmm.. I know, baby.

I reach out, firmly gripping her waist as she instantly presses her lips to mine, her arms coming around my neck. The noise of everyone around us seems to disappear as she slips her tongue in my mouth. Her fingers thread into my hair as my eyes shut and I take over, kissing her fiercely, pressing her body against the pool wall.

She moans into my mouth making my cock twitch. I dig my fingers into her hips pulling another moan from her, making me smirk against her lips before pulling away breathless.

“You taste just like I remember.” I groan, reaching around cupping her ass in my hands causing her to gasp. “How about that pussy, baby? Can I get another taste?” I mumble against her neck as I begin planting slow kisses up and down her exposed skin.

“Yes.. fuck.. where should we go?”

I let out a deep laugh before gradually gliding my fingers down her side. My hand skates across her thigh and slips in between her legs.

“Billy, there’s people..”

“Then I guess you'll have to be quiet.” I taunt, my voice low in her ear.

“Shit.” she breathes out as my fingers run across her clothed pussy under the water. I move the delicate fabric to the side, one finger slipping into her slit. Even under the water I can feel her need for me, her warmth wrapping around my finger, slickness coating it as I press deeper inside, a little moan falls from her mouth as it drops open.

I work in another finger, plunging into her pussy as her head falls to my shoulder trying to conceal her noises. “I missed these fingers,” she mumbles into the crook of my neck, sending a smile across my face.

I work her with my hand, adding a third finger, keeping them buried deep.

“Fuck!” she cries, her squeal barely muffled as I continue to fuck her with my hand.

Her moans grow louder as she buries her face even deeper. I can feel her pussy pulsing around my fingers as I curl and stroke across her g spot making her legs shake.

I hear voices from the other end of the pool, reminding me that we’re not alone. I lift her with one arm, her legs wrapping around my waist as her nails dig into my shoulder blades.

“Mmm.. I’m gonna.. Billy.. I’m gonna..” she stammers, her voice is shaky as I feel her clench around me.

“Cum for me, baby. Then I’m gonna take you inside where you can really scream.”

My words send her overboard and her teeth sink into my neck making me moan as she comes undone, her walls fluttering around my thick fingers. My jaw clenches as I feel the pain from her bite, followed by her lips sucking harshly as she rides out her orgasm.

Reader’s POV

“Oh my fucking god.” you laugh breathlessly as your body comes down from your high. You bring your face around and slam your lips to his, feeling elated.

He plants a few hard kisses on your lips before lifting you out of the pool. You stand up as he hops out, your eyes glancing towards the opposite side of the pool. You see the same couple still making out, people swimming around none the wiser. Holy shit.

As Billy stands, your eyes roam down his body, his erection clear through his wet briefs. Fucking hell.

“Bedroom?” you suggest coyly.

“Bedroom, baby.” he chuckles, swiping up your clothes and pulling you along.

******

“Is this Harrington’s room?” Billy questions as you lock the door behind you.

“Mhmm.. You okay with that?” you ask, walking further into the room. Billy laughs loudly at your question.

“Just makes it even better.” he snickers before tossing you to the bed.

Fuck, I'm excited. No stopping this time. I'm getting all of him.

You unclasp your wet bra, tossing it aside, watching as Billy’s eyes fall to your chest. He grins as he slides his underwear down, his cock finally unrestrained. You swiftly slip your panties off and giggle as Billy basically tackles you into the mattress.

“You're so fucking beautiful.” he compliments, as you feel his weight on top of you.

“So are you,” you reply, your voice hushed. You bring your arms around his neck and draw his lips to yours, his tongue parting your lips gently. You can feel him against your warmth as you wrap your legs around his waist.

You lift your hips, grinding against him, feeling his cock rock hard.

“I want you.” you plead desperately.

“How do you like it, baby? Soft and slow? Rough and fast? Tell me what you want.” Billy says as his hands begin to explore your body.

“Mmm.. Either.. Both.. I just want you.” you breathe out.

“My kinda girl,” Billy smirks before you feel him at your entrance. He gradually presses the first few inches into you, the stretch so delicious, so fucking good.

“Fuck, you're big.” you whimper slightly and he kisses your lips once more.

“I'm barely in, sweetheart.” he brags, a hint of cockiness laced in his tone. He pushes in deeper, making your mouth drop open with a squeak.

Once fully inside he begins to thrust. In and out, slow and steady. Your body feels overwhelmed from this new sensation. You've never had someone so deep inside of you before.

He starts to get into a nice rhythm, rolling his hips, driving into you at a perfect pace. Your eyelids flutter as he glides in and out of your pussy, your slickness coating his cock entirely.

“Fuck, baby.” Billy grunts as you start to rock with him, your bodies working perfectly together. He times his time, pumping into you with long hard strokes as he kisses you deeply.

You cross your ankles behind his back, pulling him back into you over and over again, moans and praises pouring from your lips as you give into him completely.

“Harder!” you cry unexpectedly, your body aching for something it's never known. I want him to destroy me and I know he can.

Billy grins wickedly, picking up speed, slamming into you, knocking the breath from your lungs.

“Yes!” you wail, clinging to him wildly, your nails dragging down his back as he thrusts mercilessly.

You lose yourself in the pleasure, as he pounds you into the mattress, your boobs bouncing with every thrust. You feel his hand on your ankle as he easily tosses it over his shoulder, leaning over you, making your legs tremble instantly.

“Oh- oh my god!” you scream as his cock slams directly into your g spot.

“There she is.” Billy growls, his smile widening as he slaps your thigh roughly making you squeal in delight.

“You like that?”

“Yes!”

“You like it rough?”

“Yes, Billy!”

“Tell me.”

“I want it rough. Fuck me hard, please!”

With no warning, he flips you to your stomach, pulling your ass up in the air and enters you again. His hand grips your hair and gives it a yank, a drawn out moan leaving your lips.

He slams into you, your ass bouncing against him over and over as he wears you out. His firm hand leaving handprints all across your ass. Your hands grip the sheets tightly as your body gives into the euphoria. The perfect amount of pleasure and pain blended together.

You had reached your high twice, the second even stronger than the first. Your body sensitivity at an all time high.

“Cum for me, again.” Billy mumbles lustfully, his hands gripping your waist, fingers digging into your skin.

“Yes, Billy.” you whimper. Your entire body felt like jello but you didn't care. You wanted this, needed this.

You soaked his cock once more before he filled you with his cum, both of you collapsing to the bed, out of breath.

“Why the fuck did you have to move again?” you pant, your cheeks flushed, your heart pounding.

Billy chuckles as he reaches over for a cigarette, pulling one out for you both.

“Any time I visit.. This is happening, doll.” he motions between the two of you.

“Visit more than once a year?” you pout, laying your head on his sweaty chest.

“Mhmm.. I didn't think I’d miss anything about Hawkins, baby. But damn I'm gonna miss you.”

[harrietswriting]

Hello! Could you do a clingy Johnny Cade X female reader please? Tysm!❤️‍🩹

an: I hope yall like this. I think it's pretty cutie.

W: mentions of parents fighting and implied abuse

Clingy!Johnny Cade x Reader

Your boyfriend has always been clingy. Though, at first, his clingy-ness was just him wanting to be near you, but now it was a constant want to literally be clinging to you. You didn't mind. In fact, you found it cute. You loved to run your fingers through his hair as he held onto you, his face buried against your neck. You loved to give him the love and affection he deserved and wanted.

Tonight, Johnny was more clingy than usual. His parents had been fighting and he had gotten caught in the crossfire. He had come to your house because he needed you. Your heart broke when you saw him. Such a sweet, caring boy, with a sorrowful expression, tears in his eyes, and a black eye. You had quickly pulled him inside and wrapped your arms around him. He returned the hug immediately, pulling you tight against him, a quietly cried into your shoulder.

You pulled back your head so you could look at his face, into his eyes. His face was wet with salty tears and his breathing was unstable. One of his eyes was surrounded by bruised and slightly swollen skin. You offered him ice for it and he accepted, so you brought him to your kitchen and got him an ice pack. He held it to his eye as you got him water.

Johnny drank it slowly before asking if you two could go to your room. You told him yes, so he put the ice pack away and eagerly walked with you to your room.

Once you were both in your room, you laid down on your bed. He took off his denim jacket and shoes, then got into bed with you. He laid on top of you, his face against the side of your neck, and wrapped his arms around you. You embraced him as well, and placed a hand in his hair.

Now, Johnny sighs as you play with his hair.

"Do you feel better?" You ask him tenderly.

"Mhm. I'm sorry for just showing up like this-" He says quietly.

"It's okay, I like holding you."

He smiles against your neck.

You stay like that in silence for another minute. You keep playing with his hair as his breath on your neck gives you goosebumps.

"Do you want to talk about it?" You eventually ask.

He shakes his head.

"Okay."

Many more minutes later, Johnny's fallen asleep on you. Your legs are falling asleep and you'd like to not lay there for hours, so you very carefully get out from under him. Johnny's a heavy sleeper so you're able to do so. Once he's off you, you get out of bed and then you pull your blanket over him. You gently kiss his forehead.

You sit at your desk and start working on homework that you've been putting off. Time feels annoyingly slow as you work on your boring homework, but soon enough you finish it. Johnny is still sound asleep and now softly snoring. You wonder if his eye still hurts.

The alarm clock on your desk reads 7:48. Maybe Johnny won't wake up till the morning. Quietly, you sneak out of your room to go get a drink.

Some 30 minutes later, Johnny wakes up. He feels for you next to him with his eyes closed but can't find you. So, he opens his eyes, sits up and looks around your room for you. You're not here. But he needs you. He gets out of bed and leaves your room.

You had gotten held up in the kitchen talking to your mom. 30 minutes had passed without you noticing. You decide to go check on him.

You meet each other in the hallway.

"Oh, you're up," you say.

"You left." He pulls you into a hug.

You hug him back. "I was coming back."

He huffs in disapproval. "Can I sleep over?"

"Of course. You don't have to ask."

There's no escaping this hug, his hold on you is too strong. You, however, would like to stop standing in the middle of the hallway.

"Can we go back to my room, love?" You ask

"If you lay with me."

"I will."

He lets you go, grabs your hand, then walks with you back to your room, where you'll cuddle and fall asleep in each other's arms.

an: I'm working on requests, I swear!!

[cooliestghouliest]

THE MIDDLE BEDROOM

PAIRING: established Billy/Reader relationship, bff!Eddie is a Peeping Tom

TAGS and C/W’s: this is basically just smut (which means 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI), pining undertones, oral (f!receiving), Billy's filthy mouth, SPIT, Eddie's a pervert but Billy's kinda setting him up so really Eddie is just advantageous, m!masturbation, unprotected PiV

WORD COUNT: 3.4k+

A/N: hi, my friends!!! this is a rewrite/repost and has been edited for a (hopefully) smoother, more enjoyable read. basically, i’m trying to revamp everything i’ve published in hopes that an inspiration bug crawls deep, deep inside me and just fucking explodes, leaving only creativity and motivation to replace all of my blood and oxygen. it’s almost 2024, who needs to bleed and breathe anyway??? please remember that likes are greatly appreciated, but comments and reblogs are what make the writer’s world go round. :-) <33

—

It happened at Rick Lipton's annual Halloween party. '86, baby.

There were many nameless faces wandering about the bungalow, all in varying states of sobriety. Eddie only recognized a handful of people, one of them being Billy Hargrove... and the other being you, Eddie's best friend, but also Hargrove's drop-dead, knock-the-fuck-out gorgeous girlfriend.

Eddie had overheard someone guess that you were dressed as a witch. Someone else guessed that you were dressed as Stevie Nicks. With a shrug, you'd answered, "Those are the same thing," like it was the most obvious certainty in the entire world.

You were in a sheer black off-the-shoulder maxi dress, the form-fitting fabric tight in all the right places. There was a long, gracious slit down the side that ran from hip to foot. When you moved in a certain way, Eddie could see that you were wearing black suede thigh-high boots, a little kitten heel clicking against the hardwood floors as you walked.

Right up to him.

"Hi, Eddie," you'd greeted with a smile, eyes wide and welcoming. You swirled the train of your dress a bit, swaying along to some Joni Mitchell song playing in the background. "Happy Halloween."

Eddie didn't get the chance to answer, though he was sure he'd have ended up stumbling over his words anyway, because you just looked so pretty tonight. He was only able to return the smile before Billy appeared beside you.

"Hey, man," Hargrove prompted, Eddie watching as the honey blonde rested lucky fingers on the small of your back. The other palm extended to clap Eddie on the shoulder a few times. "You bring it?"

"Yeah, it's just... uh..." Eddie dug his hand around in the front pockets of his jeans, then in the back pockets of his jeans, then eventually found what he was looking for in the pocket of his denim jacket, bypassing a broken button to reach for the little baggie in question.

As he was about to pull it out, Billy’s hand gripped his forearm, halting him. "Not here," Hargrove instructed. He stepped an inch closer to Eddie, voice lowering to just above a whisper. Eddie had to dip his head forward to try and hear the blonde over the music and commotion around them. "Come upstairs. Like fifteen minutes. Middle bedroom." At Eddie's confused expression (they were at a Halloween party thrown by Hawkins' most profitable drug dealer, for fuck's sake -- who the hell would care about a little coke?), Billy fashioned him a grin, stepping back. "Don't need everybody knowing my business and shit, ya know?"

Eddie guessed that was a decent enough explanation, so he shrugged the absurdity off. He'd always thought Billy was a little weird, anyway. And coming from Eddie Munson, the biggest fucking weirdo of all, that characterization spoke volumes.

After that, you and Billy disappeared. Eddie had followed the tail-end of your dress until you were lost in a sea of strangers, then decided to try and push the rest of the weed he had onto other partygoers, wanting to leave tonight with his current debt to Rick paid and his lunch box full of fresh goodies for the new month ahead.

It was exactly fifteen minutes later that Eddie began his ascent of the stairs to Rick's second floor. He weaved in and out of groping couples, stepped over sleeping Lettermen, and gave a tight-lipped smile to a group of girls that stumbled out of the bathroom and slammed right into him. He stepped to the side, giving them the right of way, before crossing the hallway to his destination: the middle bedroom.

The door was shut, so Eddie knocked. Waited a few seconds, then knocked again.

Still with no answer, he took a large step back, surveying the other doors around him to verify he hadn't gotten turned around and was in fact standing in front of the right room, which he was.

Eddie huffed a sigh. He glanced around the hallway again, checking to see if maybe Hargrove was just running late, but there was no blonde mullet in sight.

Figuring Billy must have been inside and was just... busy or something (actively ignoring him? suddenly gone deaf?), Eddie brought his hand to the knob to twist it and enter.

The room was mostly dark. Not exactly pitch black, thanks to a streetlight seen through the big bay window, but still dark enough that Eddie needed to blink rapidly several times to adjust his eyes to the new lighting.

His immediate thought was that Billy must have either forgotten to meet him up here or had ditched the party entirely and left the dealer packing with a now homeless dimebag of blow.

Off to the right, however, was a thick slab of pale-yellow light emanating from a partially closed door. It was the bathroom, which Eddie knew from sleeping in this very bedroom more than a handful of times since first meeting Rick Lipton a few years back.

And that’s when Eddie started to hear it.

Or, as he would soon come to find out, hear you.

He had at first mistaken the quick, soft breaths of air for sounds of pain or distress, which was why he'd begun inching towards the bathroom in the first place.

But now, standing in the shadow of the ajar door, he was able to peek inside. At the sight before him, Eddie felt his eyes widen, and a prickling warmth started to spread throughout his body.

Those were definitely not sounds of pain or distress.

Billy sat kneeled in front of where you were currently spread out on the bathroom counter. Your knees were hiked up towards your chest, your dress laying in a heap on the ground, and you were left only in a bright red bra. And those goddamn suede thigh-highs.

He should have walked away right then, he knew that. He was going to, really, but then you arched your back, your head falling lax behind you, and the fucking obscene moan you let out had Eddie biting down so hard on his bottom lip that he tasted blood.

How was he supposed to leave now?

He couldn't help himself.

You were just... you.

Thoughtful, generous, creative. You went out of your way to ensure no one ever felt judged or left out; you were known to drop everything without debate in order to help anyone who really needed it; you let him host Hellfire in your basement when the club needed a new location in a pinch, and even helped him plot twists in his campaigns.

Truly, Eddie had a very hard time seeing what you saw in that prick Billy Hargrove, but that was something to ponder at a later point. Because right now, Eddie was getting to see you in a position he'd only ever dreamed of seeing you in.

When would he ever get this chance again?

Eddie refused to think too deeply into this, deciding to pretend he didn't have a moral compass for a bit. It was probably bad. Likely even made him a pervert, but he'd been called much worse, so he figured he'd just add this one to the list now, too.

He wasn't exactly sure how he was going to be able to face either one of you again, but his feet just weren't working when his brain tried to tell them to move, and now his cock was starting to fill out the confines of his jeans in a way that had him seeking the relief of the doorframe, his hips acting of their own accord, finding a slow, rocking rhythm.

Billy had his palms splayed out on either side of your inner thighs, holding your legs open. Eddie quickly grew irritated that he couldn't see exactly what the blonde's tongue was doing. He thought that if he couldn't be the one with his own face buried against you, he wanted to at least have an unobstructed, close-up view.

He wanted to see Hargrove's lips wet with your slick, wanted to watch them wrap around your aching clit and suck until you tried to push him away. If Eddie could, he'd hold your arms down while Billy devoured you, wanting you to feel so much pleasure it was borderline painful.

He was pulled out of his fantasy by the sound of Billy's voice, raspy and teasing. "Love when you give me this sloppy fucking cunt," he said, the words themselves demeaning but his tone singing nothing but praises. Billy lowered his head back down, giving you a few long, loud licks.

Eddie knew he himself could be theatrical, but Billy Hargrove was dramatic in his own ways, and it did certainly seem like the blonde loved to hear the sound of his own voice. Apparently, eating pussy and its associated noises fell under this umbrella of Hargrove Histrionics.

Billy pulled his head back to spit several times on your well-loved cunt. Eddie didn't dare to blink as the other man brought two fingers to spread your lips and spit again, this time with your hardened nub as target. Both him and Billy watched intently as the saliva dripped slowly down your slit, past your empty hole, and leaked off of you entirely to darken an already present wet spot on Hargrove's blue jeans.

And fuck, you loved it.

With each assault of Billy's spit, you let out faint little gasps (fucking cute, Eddie had thought), body jolting at the contact, your eyes fluttering open and shut as the moisture filled in every curve of your core.

"So fucking messy, aren't you?" Billy taunted, his free hand moving to palm at his clothed length. Eddie was relieved to see Hargrove finally begin to touch himself, honestly impressed at the self-control the blonde had to disregard his pleasure and focus solely on yours. "Makes it feel so good when I finally fuck this thick cock inside you," he continued, unzipping his jeans as he stood. "You think this pussy's ready to soak me?"

Eddie felt like his skin was boiling. He wished he could eliminate some layers. Or all layers, preferably.

You were staring earnestly up at your boyfriend, a desperate pout on your face as you nodded in vigor. "Please, Billy," you begged, and Eddie couldn't take it any longer. He needed to fist his cock raw, having had enough of this grinding against the wall bullshit.

At the same time Billy dropped his jeans, Eddie did the same, pulling himself out of his boxer briefs. He muffled a groan of relief by biting down on the knuckles of his free hand, his other wrapping around the girth of his dick and just squeezing. He didn’t want to give in before Billy had gotten inside you.

The blonde sure was taking his sweet fucking time though, only wetting his length by sliding himself repeatedly between your lips. You were whining, and Eddie could tell you were trying to angle your hips in such a way that it would trip Billy up and he would slip inside. Good girl, get that fucking cock, Eddie thought, impatient and eager to cum, but not wanting to do so without first catching a glimpse at what you looked like stuffed and fucked full.

"Hmm, I dunno," Billy provoked, tapping his cock against your cunt with loud slaps. "Feels really good just like this, baby. Maybe I'll use the outside to fuck myself instead, cum all over this pretty little pussy, make an even bigger mess. You want that?"

You and Eddie both shook your heads at the same time.

You gave a grumble of annoyance (more of like a testy whimper, really) and brought a hand up to slap playfully at Billy's chest. "Fuck me, Billy," you demanded, your voice throaty and yearning. You dropped the hand at his chest to circle his cock, wrapping delicate fingers around his own and helping to stroke. "Need it inside."

"Oh, you need it, greedy girl?" It appeared he was going to listen to you, much to yours and Eddie's respite, because he lined himself up against your hole with one hand, the other moving to wrap around the nape of your neck. "I didn't know that. I gotta give my girl what she needs then. Can't have anyone thinking I don't take care of you."

Finally -- finally -- Eddie watched as Billy took one thrust to bury his cock inside you completely, the blonde releasing a loud, lewd moan. Eddie gave his own throbbing, sweat-slick length the same treatment, fucking into his fist from tip to base until he felt his tightening balls press against his twitching fingers.

You looked better stretched open than Eddie could have ever imagined -- a natural flush glowed on your skin, your bottom lip tugged tight between your upper teeth, your brows furrowed deep.

Your eyes rolled back as Billy began to move, a satisfied moan escaping your lips at the pace he was setting. The sound, contented yet desperate, was music to Eddie's ears. He wanted to record it and hear it on loop -- as a wake-up call, an afternoon pick-me-up, a bedtime lullaby.

Your hands moved to rest on either side of the surface of the sink below you, supporting your weight as Billy rocked into you with long, languid thrusts. Eddie tried to match Hargrove's pace with the stroke of his hand, envisioning it was his own cock giving you exactly what you needed.

You must have felt fucking good to be buried deep inside of, because Billy, always with something to say, was awfully quiet now.

He watched the other man's face through the reflection in the mirror, saw as Billy's baby blues fervently took in the sight underneath him, knowing he himself would be donning the same expression if positions were switched. Eddie knew Hargrove was admiring your perfect tits bouncing with the force of each thrust, knew he was lost in the dissipated doe-eyes that stared back up at him like he hung the fucking moon, when in reality he was just feeding your cunt some very well-deserved cock.

When your mouth dropped open unprompted, your pink tongue sticking out as far as it could go, that was the beginning of the end for Eddie. Both men knew exactly what you were asking for. Hargrove smirked approvingly at the sight before him, and he slowed the speed of his hips for better accuracy. He gathered as much saliva in his mouth as he could before leaning over you, parting his lips and letting gravity do its job.

Once your mouth was filled, Billy brought a hand to your jaw, forcing it shut. "Don't swallow," he instructed, his thrusts no longer slow and unhurried, but now posthaste and unrelenting.

Eddie could feel the familiar tingle in his lower abdomen, alerting him that his release was maybe a minute away. He fleetingly realized that he was going to have to very quickly clean his upcoming mess and get the hell out of the room before he was caught, but his attention was reeled back in when he heard a series of deep, breathless grunts.

"Okay, shit... spit it out now, baby," Billy was muttering, speech rushed, his head dipped to stare unwaveringly at where your bodies connected. "Oh fuck, spit on my fucking cock."

Eddie watched as you leaned yourself forward, angling your head down to release the spit you'd been holding in from your mouth, just adding to the noisy wetness between your legs.

And that did it. The visual — someone as soft and sweet as you doing something so filthy — had Eddie's toes curling in on themselves in his gym shoes, his hand pulsating around his cock to mimic a clenching cunt as he fucked himself into it. His release spilled out over his fist, dampening the ground below him and the bathroom doorframe. He saw stars.

Billy had followed Eddie right off the brink, muttering praises and obscenities interchangeably as you both came down from your highs. "Listen so well, dirty fucking girl. Always make me cum so hard, fuck, this pussy's so fucking full of me right now."

The sound of the quiet giggles urged out of you by Billy's tickling kisses on your neck were what brought Eddie back to the present reality. He wasn't back at home watching the hottest fucking porno he'd ever seen -- no, he was actually standing in a dimly lit bedroom, covered in his own cum, having just spied on his best friend while she got railed by her boyfriend.

Shit.

Eddie's moral compass came back with a vengeance. He cringed as he rubbed his sticky fingers on the inside of his band tee to clean them, not wanting anyone to catch a glimpse of crusty white as he made his getaway. He found a towel in a laundry basket and wiped away any remnants of his release from the wall and floor, then tossed it back into the hamper.

Not even able to glance back into the bathroom, his skin now heated from shame and embarrassment rather than arousal, Eddie buttoned up his jeans and hurried out of the room, ready to try and forget that all of that just happened.

About ten minutes later, he was perched against his van about a block from Rick's, where he'd parked. He was smoking a cigarette, having finally began to cool off and calm down. If he tried hard enough, he was sure he could convince himself this was all a really vivid hallucination, and maybe he'd be able to compartmentalize his moment of perversion that way.

He just needed to stay away from the two of you for a little while.

But then, because of course...

"Munson!"

Eddie quietly groaned, taking a deep drag off his cigarette to quell his already rapidly growing nerves from just the sound of the other man's voice alone. He turned to face Billy, plastering what he hoped was an easygoing grin on his face.

"Hey, man," Eddie greeted, his voice surprisingly steady.

Billy held his hands up in a 'What the fuck?' kind of way, brows furrowed. "Thought we had a plan," the blonde replied, stopping just a foot away from the tall metalhead. One side of Hargrove's mouth lifted. He looked predatory. Eddie fought back a hard swallow. "Did you even come upstairs?"

"What..." Eddie's brain went blank at the question. Or was it an accusation? It definitely sounded like one, but Billy didn't seem mad. The blonde was just staring at him expectantly, waiting for an answer.

"Y'know," Billy continued. "Because I told you to meet me in the middle bedroom? For the coke?" What had started as the slight of a smirk had turned into a full-blown grin on Hargrove's face. "You good, Munson? Lookin' a little spooked.”

To this, Eddie sobered his expression, shaking his head. "No, just like, busy night, that's all," Eddie answered lamely. Maybe Billy really didn't know. Maybe Eddie was just hyper-paranoid about having been caught that he was reading too deeply into this. After all, wouldn't Hargrove have been pissed to find out he'd been spying? Wouldn't he already have Eddie pinned against the van, spewing threats? "Lotsa deals. Kinda forgot about yours, my bad. Here, lemme get it..."

Eddie began digging around in his pockets, having forgotten again where the coke was. He blamed the alarms of anxiety going off in his brain (thoughts like fuck, he probably knows, which means she knows, and now she's gonna fucking hate me plaguing him).

But Billy said, "Don't worry about it, I'm good. Got my energy hit a little bit ago." The blonde then looked like he had remembered something, and began looking in his own pockets, "Shit, actually. Ya know what? I have something for you."

Eddie was sure the look of confusion on his face was readable. This whole night was turning out to be a fucking fever dream. He didn't think anything else could happen to make it any more surreal.

And then Billy was reaching his hand out to give Eddie something, that I-know-something-you-don't smirk present again, and Eddie took it without looking. He just wanted Billy to walk away so he could go crawl into the back of his van and smoke himself stupid to avoid any and all realizations and repercussions.

"See you ‘round," were Billy's parting words and Eddie just nodded dumbly, mute, and watched him go.

Once Hargrove was out of sight, Eddie opened his hand. At first, it just looked like an unassuming wad of fabric, maybe a sock or something, small compared to the size of his palm.

Eddie unraveled it, holding it out in front of him, and then very quickly tossed it inside his open passenger window, eyes darting around to make sure no one had seen what Billy Hargrove had just given him —

The matching pair of panties to your bright red bra.

[teenidlegirl]

⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ౨౿  ׅ ۟   ֪ 𝓣he 𝓑iker 𝓝ext 𝓓oor ۪ ׂ   𓈒 ୭

꒰⠀⠀⟡⠀.⠀biker!miguel⠀𝓍⠀fem!neighbor!reader⠀.⠀⟡⠀⠀꒱

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀summary.⠀a charming guy with a bike moves next door. you two embark in an interesting connection which becomes something much more.

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀content.⠀modern!au, neighbors to lovers, fluff, sprinkle of angst, tension, swearing, pet names, smut, references of sex, implied short reader, hispanic/latina!reader ( mdni )

the u-hual truck and several boxes on the curb. a new neighbor moving in, specifically next door to you. that house has been empty for some time and seeing it finally being occupied was a sight. looking through the blinds, you couldn’t see the new neighbors but only the two move-in guys. there seems to be a bike barked in the driveway, a black duacti to be exact.

oh now that is intriguing.

your new neighbor is a motorcycle rider. the bike is quite beautiful. your dad would be hella jealous since he adores ducatis. since there is a bike, where is the owner? scanning the area for the possible owner, a man dressed in all black with motorcycle jacket approached the u-haul truck to grab a big box that seems way too heavy to carry. but it seems the guy is a gym fanatic due to his bulky structure.

holy shit.

the dude is handsome as fuck.

dark chocolate locks along with some very visible strong cheekbones even from this distance. not only is he bulky as hell but also extremely freakishly tall. goddamn the man is probably over 6 feet. the move-in guys are only up to his collarbone and they are pretty tall themselves. this dude is a giant most likely.

this man is your new neighbor?

well fucking hell.

lifting your finger off from the blinds, you step away from your window to resume your day. although, it would be difficult to concentrate on anything since your mind is infiltrated with images of your new neighbor. you’ve never even met the guy and yet he’s all you could think about. get your shit together.

⠀⠀⠀⠀𓂃 ୨ ₊ 𓂃 ౨ৎ   𓂃 ₊ ୧   𓂃

you were returning home from work. pulling up into your driveway, you spot your new neighbor in his garage cleaning his bike. slowly getting out of your car, you sneak at glance at him without being suspicious. well, you’re wearing your black cateye sunglasses so nobody could tell if you’re looking directly at them or not. grabbing your purse and locking the car, you decide to introduce yourself.

fuck it, why not.

walking up his driveway to the garage, your ears were filled with music. the speaker be blasting linkin park. good music taste he has, definitely noted. he seems to not acknowledge your upcoming arrival since he’s too concentrated on cleaning his bike with a rag. now he must’ve acknowledge your presence as the corners of his lips curl up into a little smirk.

“ducati. badass.” you comment, stopping only a few feet from him so you don’t invade his space.

he let out an appreciative hum. “panigale v2.” his eyes never tear from the bike as he continues cleaning it with the black rag.

your eyebrows slightly raise in surprise. “my dad would be jealous. he used to own one but had to sell it to buy a car.” you cross your arms over your chest, obscuring him through your sunglasses.

“poor guy but understandable.” he wipes down the last bit of the bike before putting the rag away in a bucket next to him. “so which neighbor are you?” he never looks up at you as he starts scrubbing the front tire with a small black scrubby.

“next door to the left.” you tilt your head a bit to the side, digging your hands into the back pockets of your denim jeans.

“oh so you’re the one with the loud dog.” the guy couldn’t resist a smirk, sensing your light glare.

“not my fault he misses me.” you shrugged.

a low chuckle escapes his lips. “maybe you should be home more often.”

you look at him dumbfounded by his joke but you play along since it’s fun. “if only work was that easy. plus, he’s a husky, they’re criers.” that earns you another chuckle from him.

“what’s his name?”

“shane.”

you watch one of his thick eyebrows quirk upwards. “that’s an interesting name for a dog but it’s cool, quite unique.” after scrubbing the last bit of the tire, he drops the scrubby into the buckle, stands up from the little stool and turns to face you.

goddamn, he’s even taller than you thought. you have to crane your neck all the way up just to look at him. and dear lord this man is just pure muscle. the black shirt he’s wearing looks so tight on him that it acts more like a compression shirt. those broad shoulders stick out heavily, so mouthwatery. and that motherfucking waist, damn it’s so slutty that it’s a crime to have it that pinched. a damn greek god.

him on the other hand, traces your figure with his eyes. shit those denim jeans hug your thighs so perfectly, a little too tight to be honest which makes his chest warm. although, he was taken aback by your sunglasses, concealing your face that he desperately wants to see.

cleaning his hands with a clean rag, he walks up to you reaching out a hand to shake. “i’m miguel.”

you push your sunglasses on top of your head before taking his hand and gently shake it. “[y/n].” a little smile gracing your glossy lips with a head tilt.

miguel’s pupils dilate drastically from your face reveal. wow — you are very attractive, beautiful in fact. those gorgeous irises staring into his own and glossy lips that taunt him.

his pretty neighbor.

and he, your handsome neighbor.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

“fuck!” you slap the stirring wheel. the car isn’t working. just fucking great, now you’re gonna be late for work and your boss is gonna murder you.

well this is a shitty fucking day. first you slipped coffee over your cute white blouse, now your car is broken. a lot groan of frustration escapes your lips as you rest your forehead on the wheel.

your frustration didn’t go unnoticed by a set of brown eyes from next door. miguel was preparing to leave for the gym until he saw you shouting inside your car. he couldn’t help but smile in amusement watching you getting pissed off. the sounds of the failing engine answered his question. he watches you get out of your car and slam the door, a few curses in between spanish and english escaping your lips. resting his helmet on the bike, miguel slowly walks over with arms folded across his chest.

“dead engine?” he asks, head titled a bit.

a sigh of frustration escapes you, rubbing the temples of your forehead with one hand while the other rests on your hip. “yeah so now i’m gonna be late for work. chingado…” you rest your lower back against the car, not meeting his gaze.

“i can give you a ride.” miguel suggested, his eyes analyzing your expression and body language.

you shook your head. “no it’s fine. i’ll just take an uber.” you pull out your phone from your back pocket to open up the app but a large hand snatches your phone. “hey! what the fuck man—“

“you don’t need an uber. i’ll take you, end of discussion.” miguel turns around and walks back to his bike, your phone in his hand.

“dude—“ you groan, rolling your eyes. well, you don’t have any other option since he took your phone. letting out another sigh, you follow him to his garage. “can i at least have my phone back? i promise i won’t take an uber.” you cross your arms with ahead tilt.

he stares at you for a moment to see if you were lying or not. then, he hands back your phone which you take very swiftly and put in back in your pocket, making him smirk. miguel walks over to a shelf with a collection of helmets and grabs a red one. he walks back to you and hands you the helmet.

“you ever ridden one?” he asks as he puts on his gloves then his helmet.

“just once with my cousin but that was years ago.” you move your hair out of your face and put on the helmet. it’s quite big on you, considering it’s his so of course it’s big. luckily it has straps for adjustment. now it fits a little better, still loose but better.

he only responds with a low hum.

walking up to the bike, a moment of realization hits you. it’s a big bike, well, all motorcycles are big. maybe it’s because your small and short as fuck.

how the fuck are you gonna get on that thing?

“need some help?” his baritone makes you snap out of thought as if he knew.

“well…” you didn’t even get finish your sentence when you felt his hands on your waist and suddenly lift you up to place you on the bike, making you gasp as you instinctively hold onto his biceps as support. your reaction earns a low chuckle from him.

“you could’ve warned me, cabrón.” you shoot him a glare as you swing one leg over the bike so now you’re straddling it, shifting a little to be comfortable.

those brown irises land directly on your thighs. they got thicker and plumper when you sat down. his mouth instantly watered at the sight. thankfully for his helmet, you couldn’t see his stupid expression. without answering back, he gets on the bike. miguel lowers the shield of his helmet then grips onto the handlebars, clenching those gloved hands.

“scoot a bit closer.” he said, head turned to the side where he sees your from the corner of his eye.

you look dumbfounded at his request. is this dude serious? since you don’t obey, miguel reached behind and grabs under your thighs, pulling you closer until your chest is against his back. a soft gasp escapes your lips at the sudden motion. not gonna lie, your stomach did a summersault. now your face slightly flushed. you lower the shield of the helmet to hide it. at first you were hesitant to touch him but you have no other choice. very slowly, you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your head on his broad back. miguel can sense your hesitation, making him smirk underneath his helmet. gripping the handlebars once again, he turns his head to the side.

“hold on tight, chula.” he said so mischievously before turning on the engine and slowly start driving out of the garage then onto the road.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

so your growing friendship with your neighbor was interesting. is it even friendship? to be honest, it’s unclear what you two have. maybe an acquaintance since you’re simply neighbors. however, it feels more than just that. a strange bond between you two. but things got a little heated when you popped by while he was cleaning his bike, for the millionth time.

it was a hot day so you decided to wear a yellow summer dress. walking over to his opened garage, music blasts in your ears but you don’t mind. you’re a big music lover yourself. it’s the weeknd this time. this dude got great music taste. two of your favorite artists, linkin park and the weeknd. two things you have in common, definitely noted.

your pupils dilate drastically at the sigh of your neighbor. he wears a black wife beater that reveals his muscles so perfectly. holy fuck, he is built. each outline of his muscles is visible to the eye. but what makes your knees weak is those fucking gray sweatpants that hang below his waist.

fuck, he definitely chose that outfit on purpose.

snapping out of those horny ass thoughts, you approach him with crossed arms. “how many times do you clean that damn bike?”

miguel snorts, a little smirk gracing those plump lips of his. “gotta keep it perfect.” he uses a navy blue rag to wipe the front of the bike, sitting on a tiny stool.

“alright, mr perfectionist.” sarcasm at its peak but doesn’t affect him, only making him chuckle.

“at least i don’t have bird shit.” he teases.

you scoffed, rolling your eyes. “i haven’t had the chance to get a car wash. work has been up my ass lately.” you want to slap off that growing stupid smirk on his face so badly. ugh this motherfucker.

“i could clean it for you, chiquita. all you have to do is ask. but of course, there’ll be a price.” a mischievous smirk illustrating his face as he glances at you. his eyes widen a bit at your dress. how pretty you look in it, yellow definitely suits you.

“ugh as if i would ever pay you, no thank you.” so sassy but he likes that.

he gets from the tiny stool. “just saying, chiquita.” miguel walks over to the counter to grab some stuff.

you roll your eyes once again before walking over to his bike. it’s a really gorgeous bike, so polished and clean. you’ve only seen the classic red ducati so seeing a black is a surprise but a cool surprise.

you decide to sit down the edge of the seat, your feet dangling since you’re so short. the cold metal hitting against your skin of your exposed legs, making you shiver a little at the cold sensation.

turning around, a small smile crept onto his face when he sees you sitting on the bike. walking back, miguel grabs the little stool and placed it down in front of the back tire. he sits back down, right next to your left leg as he begins scrubbing the tire.

while he continues cleaning, you glance around his garage. bunch of car supplies and cleaning equipment. not much decor other than the shelves of plastic black boxes. you realize the entire garage glows under warm lighting. it’s golden hour. turning to face the driveway, you’re greeted with the bright vibrant sun shining down on you. luckily you have your sunglasses so you put them over your eyes. you relish the delicious warmth of the sun, leaning back a little on the bike.

a refreshing breeze passes by, making your hair flow gracefully in the air. but your hair isn’t the only thing affected by the wind. the skirt portion of your dress flows. as miguel’s eyes tear away from the spot he was cleaning, he noticed your dress flowing in the wind a little too freely as it flows upwards revealing your pastel yellow panties underneath. his eyes widen at the sight as he felt his face grow hot, hints of pink staining his cheeks. miguel quickly looks away when you look back, painting a neutral face as if he didn’t just see your panties.

“bitch ass wind.” you murmured in annoyance, flattening down your dress, fully unaware of the peeping tom next to you. glancing down at miguel, you noticed the slight hint of pink on his face, making you quirk an brow. “what’s up with you?”

while trying to remain normal despite the image of your panties infiltrating his mind, he brushed it off so casually. “the sun, it’s too much.”

you stare at him for a moment then decide to let it slide with a hum. it’s true, standing under the sunlight for a while makes you feel hot. one time you went to the beach, even with sunscreen yet you still got burnt. you understand him.

after some time, miguel finishes and puts the cleaning supplies back on the shelves. when he turns around and walks back, you’re still sitting on the bike as if it were yours. the sight makes him smirk.

“comfortable much?” he stands beside you, bulky arms crossed over his chest.

“surprisingly, yeah it is.” you glance down at your seat then back up at him. you’re taken back by how close he was, literally right next to you. he towers you so easily, even when you stand. your eyes instantly land on his arms, his muscles flexing. goddamn he’s so built it’s insane. thank god for your sunglasses but for some reason he can tell you’re staring by the smug look on his devilish handsome face.

you then decide to hop off the bike and walk back to your house without looking back. “later, guapo.” the skirt of your dress sways along with your hips, making miguel feel hot and bothered at the sight.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

since that day, miguel hasn’t been the same. those repeated images of your panties infiltrated his mind a like damn plague. no matter what he was doing or where he was at, those images haunted him to the point of insanity. don’t even ask what he does at night because it very obvious. jacking off in his bed, moaning and whimpering like a little bitch. bro was so horny that he felt embarrassed and ashamed for thinking about his neighbor like that.

curse the fucking wind that day.

like you said, “bitch ass wind.”

oh and don’t even start with his weird ass behavior afterwards. miguel started avoiding you like a virus. bro was so down bad for you that he couldn’t even stay in the same room with you. he tried to be like his normal self but low-key he was going insane. not only because of the pantie flash but really because miguel likes you. the sassy, sexy diva energy radiating from you he adores a lot. he couldn’t get you out of his mind. all miguel thought about is you.

you, on the other hand, were confused by the sudden silent treatment. whenever you would visit his place, the garage was always closed. you’d knock or ring the doorbell but no answer. when you did see him, miguel was already drifting off on his bike. not gonna lie, you were a bit butthurt by the sudden distance. did you do or said something wrong? did you make him feel uncomfortable? millions of negative thoughts ran through your mind, wondering the cause for miguel's distance.

after some time, you demanded some answers.

his garage was open for the first time in two weeks. although, miguel isn’t nowhere to be found. his bike is parked so it means he’s home, probably dealing with something inside. while waiting for him, you wander around the garage looking at his stuff.

returning from his room, miguel stops in his tracks the moment he sees you. oh fuck, the woman who’s been plaguing his mind for two weeks stands in his garage only for one reason; and that reason scares him. he nervously glups as he watches you turn around. shit, you’re wearing the damn yellow dress again; the dress that accidentally flashed you.

“hey. what the hell is up with you? you’ve been avoiding me like some fucking plague. did i do something wrong?” you walk towards him, brows furrowed in a concern manner.

ah shit, he knew this would happen.

“no. i’ve just been busy with work.” miguel walks past you, heading towards one of the shelves of supplies. he can feel his heart beating fast, feeling anxious, and his palms growing clammy.

you follow him with a disbelief look on your face. “clearly i did something wrong because we haven’t talked or hung out in two weeks.”

shit shit shit.

now his heart is racing fucking wild. how the hell is he supposed to tell you? he can’t even look at you in the eye, too embarrassed and ashamed.

okay now you’re worried, or confused, or both to be honest. his strange behavior is now getting on your nerves. you notice his clenched fists at his sides, repeatedly opening and closing. you walk around him so you could stand beside him, almost in front.

“dude, what’s going on?” you sound genuinely concerned, looking up at him with furrowed brows.

just as your lips part open to say something, only a gasp spills from your lips as miguel grabs you by the waist and pushes you back against the ledge of the counter. his chest close contact with your face, both of your bodies pressed together leaving no space, sandwiching you between him and the counter. your hot and heavy breaths fill the air between you. very slowly, you nervously look up at the man who towers over you. both of his hands rest on your waist with a firm grip, gently grouping the dip of it. pure lust in those beautiful brown irises of his.

‘oh fuck me’, you thought to yourself.

your body tenses as he leans down towards your ear. “do you have any idea what you do to me? these past two weeks has been torture for me. all i could think about was you and those cute yellow panties you wore with that exact same dress you’re wearing right now.” he ends it with a squeeze to your waist.

oh fuck, his husky voice sends shivers down to your core, making your face flushed. he was thinking about you this entire time? now that’s a mindfuck. your heart skips a beat at his seductive confession. your chest heaves, breathing heavily.

does it make things worse the fact you’re wearing those exact panties right now?

“all i wanna do is ravish you. run my hands over your gorgeous body. bury my face in between those delicious thighs and make you cry from pleasure. scream my name until you can’t remember anything.” his hands slowly run up and down your sides, making you shiver at the sensation.

you can’t help but whimper at his words. god is this really happening? your handsome neighbor, who’ve you been secretly crushing on, wants you. fuck, you can feel your clit pulsating in anticipation.

“mig-miguel…” you softly moan.

“por favor, hermosita. let me have you, worship you.” miguel couldn’t help but start kissing your neck, right on the sweat spot which makes you whimper.

your arms slowly trail up his body until you wrap them around his thick neck, gripping the ends of his hair, making him pull back to look at you.

“worship me, miguelito.” lust laced in your tone.

his eyes darken, pupils dilating at your words. fuck the nickname hits him hard, sending jolts of pleasure down to his dick. he feels himself growing tight in his pants, a bulge forming. without hesitation, miguel smashes his lips against yours in a hungry kiss. god both of you have been waiting for this moment. you guys are practically eating each other’s faces. his tongue sneaks in, licking your lips for access which you gladly accept. a shared moan echoes in the air between you as you explore each other’s mouths. you dig your fingers into his dark chocolate locks while his hands roam your body, groping your curves.

without warning, miguel lifts you up by the waist and plants you on the counter. a soft gasp spills from you when you felt the raging bulge in his pants against your clothed core. while indulging in your heated makeout session, you feel a large hand slowly trailing up your legs towards your inner thighs. your breath hitches when you feel his fingers brushing against your panties, lightly rubbing your clothed core. another hand gently groping one breast. muffled soft moans spill from yours which eggs miguel on. he can’t take it anymore. grabbing underneath your thighs, he lifts you up and carries you out of garage and into his house. he shuts the garage door with a remote on his way inside.

as much as he wanted to take you on the floor of his garage, miguel wanted your first time together in a more comfortable setting.

and holy fuck, you’ve never orgasmed so many times in your life. he pull one after another from you, leaving you breathless and fucked out. also, probably the biggest dick you’ve ever taken. bro filled you up to the motherfucking brim, you’re on the pill so it’s fine but still risky (condoms are better).

and the aftercare, oh my god miguel is the sweetest man. such a gentleman, being sweet and caring towards you. made sure you were okay, getting anything you needed. gentle touches to make sure he doesn’t overwhelm you, whispering praises.

⠀⠀⠀⠀ ┈ ୨ ₊ ┈ ౨ৎ   ┈ ₊ ୧   ┈

ever since that night, you started dating.

y’all were fucking almost everyday.

one time, you rode him on his bike. yeah you read that. his garage was filled with your moans, echoing in those four walls. you holding onto his shoulders for dear life while riding the shit outta him. that was a fantasy come true for miguel, fucking you on his bike. oh he was a happy, horny camper. of course the garage door was closed so no one could see you two horny fucks. although, miguel wouldn’t mind people seeing you getting fucked so good by him, to make other men jealous and boost his ego.

the next time was on the floor of his garage. as much as you disliked the cold hard feeling of the floor, you were too cock drunk to care. another one of miguel’s fantasies coming true.

then it was in each other’s bedrooms, mostly miguel’s because he loved having you in his bed. one night after coming from your highs, both of you a panting and sweating mess, you stare up at the ceiling. miguel turns to look down at you, his eyes analyzing your expression.

“what are you thinking?” he was still a bit breathless, caressing your cheek with one hand.

your eyes remain glued to the ceiling. “i think we should just move in together at this point. it’s kinda stupid we’re together yet live in separate houses.”

a smile graces his lips at your confession. “then move in conmigo.” his smile grew wilder when he watched you turn quickly to look at him.

“my house is nicer, plus i have a pool and you don’t.” you shoot him an unimpressed look.

a low chuckle escapes his plump lips which makes your heart flutter. “vale vale, you win. demonio.” miguel continues caressing your cheek, relishing your soft skin against his palm. he nuzzles in your neck, planting butterfly kisses on your warm skin while his hands gently grope your curves.

you let out a satisfied hum as you run your fingers delicately through his dark chocolate locks. the both of you relax in bed, embracing each other.

you love your next door neighbor biker boyfriend.

⠀ ᰦ 󠄀 ྀ .⠀♥︎⠀note.⠀this idea randomly popped in my head while listening to “outside” by calvin harris.

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓. ♡ @loser-alert @midnight-the-shadow-wolf @eatalyy @primroselovessupernatural @ghost-lantern @gaygerthelame

© teenidlegirl. don’t steal, plagiarize, or translate my work. ♡

[thefreakandthehair]

@steddiemas day 1: deck the halls | wc: 1.2k | rated: m

Robin Buckley loves Christmas.

Like, really loves Christmas. If she could convince Steve to put the tree up in their little shitbox apartment the day after Halloween, she would. In fact, she'd tried last year but Steve reminded her that a live tree would be a needleless fire hazard by Christmas Day and she refuses to entertain the idea of a fake tree.

Absolutely not. Live tree or bust.

And this is how Steve ends up at the Christmas Tree Farm the day after Thanksgiving, dragged around with a fond if not tired smile as she checks tree after tree, pulling their branches, checking their strength and health.

"It has to be a Blue Spruce to hold those heavy ornaments from my parents, and none of these are Blue Spruces!" She bemoans, whipping her head around to glare at Steve. "Are you even helping?"

He rolls his eyes and sips the hot chocolate that warms him from the inside. "I'm here as moral support and to cut the thing down when you find it." Steve wiggles the little saw he'd been handed and nods her on.

Robin scoffs and marches back towards him. "I think there are some Blue Spruces in the lot towards the back."

Without a question, he turns on his heel and follows her. This isn't their first Christmas Tree Hunt so he knows the drill. No matter how much he actually hates Blue Spruces because the needles are sharp and stick him when they hang the lights, he'll never say a word. Not when it makes his best friend this happy.

Eventually, they make the trek through muddy grass and Robin does, in fact, find a Blue Spruce that makes her eyes light up in the hidden away lot.

"This is it," she beams. "This is the one."

"Perfect, here, hold this--" Steve hands her his mug and starts to lean down, only for the tree to start shaking.

A man in ripped jeans and Reeboks lies beneath the tree, his own saw just beginning to make its mark in the stump of the spiky, healthy Spruce.

"Hey! Hey, what are you doing? This is our tree." Robin says, reaching through branches to hold it steady. "We were just about to cut it down, back off."

Steve sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. It's not that he won't defend Robin's honor and get into a fight in a Christmas Tree Farm for her, he'd just really rather not.

The mystery man pokes his head out from under the tree with furrowed brows and two needles sticking out from the top of his head, dirt on his denim jacket that protects what looks like a red and black flannel. Steve's definitely been watching way too many Hallmark movies with Robin lately because holy shit, he's cute.

"Listen, my best friend wants this tree, and I don't even wanna be under here but if she doesn't get this Blue Whatever-The-Fuck, someone's halls are getting decked and it'll probably be mine. So, sorry." He shrugs and returns to his place under the tree. 

Robin looks at Steve, bewildered and frazzled simultaneously. Do something, she mouths. 

Like what? He mouths back, scrunching his face and contorting his mouth. 

She widens her eyes and jerks her head to the side, desperate. 

He should’ve known Robin would be responsible for his demise. 

“C’mon, man, we’ve been here for two hours looking for a tree.” Steve gets no response, just a few grunts that shouldn’t go straight to his crotch but what can he say? It’s been awhile.

He steps forward and lies down beneath the tree with the Tree Thief. “Is she here with you? Your best friend who seems as fucking rabid as mine is here about these trees?” 

Steve watches as the man focuses on the tree stump, rhythmic back and forth motions of the saw moving his torso along the ground with his tongue poking out between his lips. “Maybe I can talk to her? Or send Robin? She’s… convincing?” 

“Chrissy wants this one, dude. Hate to break it to you.” 

“Ah, okay. Robin and Chrissy. Well, I’m Steve, and you’re…?” 

The sawing stops as he catches his breath. “Eddie. I’m Eddie. And unless you’re gonna help under here, you might wanna move. I don’t wanna drop this on you.” 

Steve pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and takes a chance. Reaching out, he places one hand on top of Eddie’s. “Can I make you a deal?” 

Eddie startles, eyes flickering back and forth from the space where their hands touch on the rough bark of the tree up to Steve’s gaze. 

“Depends on the deal, I suppose.” Maybe Steve imagines the flush to his cheeks and the playful grin that blossoms across his lips. All he knows about Eddie is that his best friend’s name is Chrissy and that he has the most beautiful brown eyes Steve’s maybe ever seen. 

Not maybe. Definitely. 

“Uh,” he shakes his head, trying to pull himself out of whatever Christmas romcom he thinks he’s living in. “What if we help you and Chrissy find another tree and I help you cut it down? I’ll even carry it to the car for you.” 

“What are you, some sort of lumberjack?”

“Nope,” he lowers his voice conspiratorially, joking as he leans closer, like an idiot. “Just desperate not to get my halls decked.” It earns him a genuine smile and surprised laugh punched from Eddie’s lungs. 

“Alright,” he taps the saw on the trunk and smirks over at Steve, mere inches apart beneath a Christmas tree. Close enough for the faint scent of Eddie’s cigarettes and Old Spice cologne to permeate the strength of the resinous spruce. “You help us find another tree, lug it to the car, and then meet me for coffee after? Seems like the least you can do, all things considered.” 

Trading numbers with the guy he met while bargaining for Robin’s dream Christmas tree isn’t the weirdest moment of his life, but it’s certainly on the shortlist. As is plucking rogue needles out of his hair when they come up from beneath the tree.

He ends up lugging two Blue Spruces to the parking lot an hour later in two trips— Robin chatting with Chrissy in front of them and Eddie at his side, gravitating closer and closer until their arms nearly touch. 

“You know, you didn’t actually have to do this,” Eddie says, moving away from Steve and to the other side of Chrissy's sedan to help tie the tree to the roof. “You’re not like, actually obligated or whatever.” 

Steve finishes tying his end of the knot and looks across at Eddie, finding him standing with hopeful eyes and a piece of hair drawn in front of his face. 

“Oh, I know.” He smiles and shrugs. “But I want to. Especially the coffee-with-you-after part.” 

“Not until we get this thing up and decked, Munson!” Chrissy pops up next to Eddie at the same time Robin appears next to Steve, both of them practically bouncing on their heels and grinning ear to ear. 

Robin nudges Steve in the side and he looks down to see her phone held out, Chrissy’s number typed into her contacts with a tiny pink heart to it. He gives her a subtle, excited thumbs up from below Eddie and Chrissy’s view beneath the car. 

Eddie slings an arm across Chrissy’s shoulders and ruffles her hair before she fixes her ponytail, indignant. 

“Alright, alright,” Steve laughs. “I’ll uh, I’ll text you?” 

Eddie nods and turns himself and Chrissy towards the front of the car. As he gets in the passenger seat, he looks back at Steve with a mischievous wink most likely emboldened by Steve’s brash flirtation. 

“The sooner, the better.”

[seishirospeaches]

━━ I'm so lonely ♡🍒

・❥・

synopsis : there are many reasons to why you missed coming back to your hometown, firstly, your mother's cooking, spending days just doing nothing in particular except for one. You started to develop strange feelings for the hot single father who just moved in last summer, now all you could do is watch him afar but this time you wanted to go far.

genre: smut (can't handle it? get out while your at it) warning: masturbating, unprotected sex, cuss, choking, a lot more and Toji is a warning.

伏黒甚爾 (Toji F.)

a/n: click on the photo I have a surprise <3

finally Christmas break was here and you have been planning to return to parents house, all your friends planned to celebrate the holidays with their partners some with their family going to another country whereas you wanted it to be simple.

You took the last remaining stuff left as you headed to your car driving home, it was a bit traffic since everyone was also doing a last minute Christmas shopping, you thought maybe it wasn't a bad idea too since you haven't really bought anything for your parents. You pulled over to a parking lot and headed to a store buying presents for your family.

Too bad this time around you might not even have the time to wrap them up, but you know you store some old paper bags and gift wrappers in your room for a good use. You could hide it from them ones you get home. Driving home as your reached to your place you had to open the trunk to retrieve your bags, you struggled to get them but that's until you felt a large hand taps on your shoulder.

"Need a hand on that?" You spunned around looking at his muscles ripping over that tight fitting black shirt his denim jacket was doing a little small justice to see his veiny arms you drool over with. You tried not to look like your checking him out but it was too hard to divert your eyes elsewhere.

"Y-yeah, thanks." Moving over to the side he takes your bags, not before long your parents came out dashing towards you through the front yard.

Your mom cooing was a little embarrassing but you hope your hot neighbor didn't have to catch your beet red face, she kept thanking the neighbor for helping you out. All he did was smirk at you with the scar on the side of his lip, you swore you'd never seen a better looking man than him it was too impossible.

After settling in your mother busied herself cooking while your father was setting up more Christmas decors with your little sister Utahime.

Your window has the perfect view of him in his room, he was all sweaty, panting, he probably had a good work out but the moment he pulled over his shirt you were a goner.

It was too good to pass up, the reason you came home this winter break was just to see him and dream of letting his hands get all over you.

You were never like this at all, they say you were like a saint, a goody two shoes kind of girl, the one who they viewed to be innocent.

But innocent you weren't, all the good girl facade wasn't true anymore. It all went out the window the moment he moved in as your neighbor, everyday, all night and day all you could think of was him. You were willing to throw yourself to him if it was only possible to do so.

You missed him so much, you can't be satisfied at all you can't deny the need of wanting to taste a single father who has two children, you wanted him all to yourself.

You were quick to lock the door, laying to your bed as you stare up to the ceiling, slowly taking off your pants along with your panties, pulling your shirt up as to reveal your breast, twirling around your nipple as you slowly try to get aroused, biting down your lower lip as your other hand travels down, your wet folds, slowly sliding a finger in, pumping in and out as you moan, the other hand pinching your nipple, imagining someone else, touching you, feeling your soft skin, as your pussy becomes wetter, your finger picking up the pace, the sounds of your moans, and wetness echoing in your room.

You were quick to lock the door, laying to your bed as you stare up to the ceiling, slowly taking off your pants along with your panties, pulling your shirt up as to reveal your breast, twirling around your nipple as you slowly try to get aroused, biting down your lower lip as your other hand travels down, your wet folds, slowly sliding a finger in, pumping in and out as you moan, the other hand pinching your nipple, imagining someone else, touching you, feeling your soft skin, as your pussy becomes wetter, your finger picking up the pace, the sounds of your moans, and wetness echoing in your room.

You try to imagine it was Toji's fingers than yours, you think how he looks so good on top of you

He was a lot bigger than you, and a lot stronger, you can already see him using that strength on you, slamming into you, making you moan for him, his large hand on your throat, the other holding both your wrists together, keeping them above your head as you were too weak to struggle out of his grip, the feeling of him dominating you was something you can only dream of, but here you were, dreaming about it.

Your mind goes back to the time he was close to you earlier, his scent those large hands, his fingers deep within this cunt, the feeling of him thrusting his fingers into you was all you could think of, your fingers not able to satisfy you anymore, as you try to keep your moans low, trying not to get caught, not wanting your mother to hear what you're doing, your eyes rolling back, as you imagine more of him.

His fingers, the way they felt inside you, the way he touched you, it was something that kept you awake, you wanted more you want it so bad. Until you creamed but it wasn't enough, you still feel like you want more. Taking over as you dared to do the unthinkable, you moved your bed near the window as you see him relaxing by his bed with a magazine on his hand you can tell it was about cars, you made him have a perfect view of you.

"fuck this." You move the curtain away making sure he sees this show for himself only.

You take a pillow, riding on it, moving up and down on it as if it was him instead of a pillow, showcasing how much you wanted him inside of you. You dare to look over outside the window surprised to see he was already watching the scene unfold before him, you bit your lower lip as your grope both of your breast kneading them in front of him, pinching your nipples, teasing him, showing him how you wished it was him instead.

His eyes on you, was enough to get you off, the fact that he was enjoying this show, and how he was slowly stroking his hardening cock was enough to turn you on, the feeling of your wet cunt on the pillow was enough, as you rode on it, trying to chase after the orgasm that was slowly creeping up to you, your moans becoming louder as the friction of the pillow on your clit was enough to send you off the edge, cumming on the pillow.

You look back outside to see him gone, a little upset at how he disappeared, but not until a knock came from your door, making you jump from where you were.

"Sweetie, we invited the neighbor for dinner do you mind to help us prepare here we only have a few minutes before they arrive." It was your mother behind the door, you gave a quick answer as you were still panting.

━━━━━

The dinner went well surprisingly, you borrowed a dress from your mother it was a black velvet fitted dress. You knew he was coming over so you wanted to dress to impress him even though the whole time he wasn't even looking at you, you were trying to strike a conversation with him he simple manages to dodge it, only his sweet eldest daughter Tsumiki was answering you instead, she was smiling brightly at you most of the time and somehow you got along with her and the youngest child Megumi was practically four, he kept close contact and always wanting to sit beside you.

You all stayed in the living room, you were in the kitchen washing the dishes while your mother was making hot cocoa with Toji who was kind enough to help her you could hear them talking about his children, how he manages them and work, you knew the wife was already out of the picture long time ago when Megumi was only months old you heard it while they were talking. You were in your own world until you felt a hand on your waist.

"That show, was it for me?" He whispered, his chest on your back and his lips were tickling your ears.

"It was." He let out a dark laughter, you could feel it to his chest as he was never this close to you before, you tried to peer behind him to see if any of your family could see this.

"Don't worry, no one gives a flying fuck when they see us." He lightly kisses your collarbone, his fingers caressing your thighs as it goes up and down.

"Don't start something you can't finish, doll." His voice was smooth and deep and sent tingles down to my spine, making it hard to think. I tried to keep my own tone even, despite the heat building in my core.

"You don't know what I'm capable of," I replied.

I dare to reply, even with his eyes on me. His gaze made me want to squirm in my seat, but I managed to hold my ground.

"I would be happy to find out." He raised a brow, his mouth quirked up at the corners, the hint of a smile playing at his lips.

He's trying to get me to back down, I thought.

"Don't threaten me with a good time," I said, raising a brow. "You have no idea who you're talking to, or what you're getting yourself into."

He let out a chortle, looking dangerously into my eyes

"Well, now you have me interested, darling. How about we let that dream of yours come true, hm?"

I stared into his dark eyes, and he did the same. My heart hammered against my chest, and my body ached with a need I wasn't used to.

"Maybe we can," I replied, taking another sip of my drink.

His gaze dropped to my lips as I licked the alcohol from them. His hands tightened around the glass, and I had a sudden image of him lifting me onto the table and having his way with me right here and now.

He reached over and pulled the empty glass from my hand, setting it aside. Then he lifted my hand and placed a kiss on the back of it.

"Until next time," he said, winking and standing from the booth.

What a tease.

He twirls me around before dipping in his lips close to my ear.

"Meet me outside before the clock strikes twelve, make sure you wear nothing underneath I like you without clothes, doll." He licks behind my ear causing me to whimper, my knees were about to give in. He moves back as he walks to the living room.

I waited and kept glancing over the clock, I wanted him more than I have wanted anything else. His gaze at me throughout the night made my panties damp, with his legs spread wide looked like an invitation for me to crawl to him, to straddle, to have the best night ever.

They have left, I did wait and follow his words I sat down to my bed taking a trench coat from my closet making sure I had nothing inside. Everyone in the house was asleep, I quietly walk down the stairs locking the front door as I walk towards my neighbors house, before I could knock the door swung open revealing his naked top with black pants on he quickly scoop me in his arms as he kicked the door close. He quickly kissed me and carried me up the stairs into his room.

He laid me down and began to strip my coat off I was about to protest but it's a little to late to change my mind.

He was hovering over me kissing my lips and making his way down to my chest and began to undo his pants revealing his cock sprung up to hitting his stomach I could feel his tip touch my folds.

I wrapped my legs around his hips he left wet kisses around my neck down to my breast and took one in his mouth I bit my lips as I could feel him push himself into my entrance.

I let out a groan in pleasure and pain as he pushed his length inside me. Once he was fully in I let out a breath I was holding in and he waited for me to adjust, I wiggled my hips to give him the signal to start moving and he began to thrust slowly.

His pace picked up, his grunts were like music to my ears, my moans were echoing through his room, my arms were around his neck pulling him closer, my breast were bouncing.

"Fuck, knew you taste better but you taste so sweet." He said while licking my neck.

"S-Stop teasing me." I said in a moan.

"Oh? So you want me to fuck you harder?" He said picking up the pace.

"Yes please!" I moaned.

He began to pound harder into me, the bed started to move a little. He grabbed my hand and pinned them above my head. He kept ramming into me, the pleasure was building up and I felt like I was going to explode.

"Fuck...I'm so close..." I moaned.

"Let go baby."

I could feel my orgasm reach it's peak and I finally released my orgasm. He wasn't done yet he was still going.

"Please cum for me."

He was grunting, I was moaning, and we could feel our orgasm build up and he finally let out his load, the feeling of him releasing his hot cum inside me sent shivers down my spine.

He moves away, I was thinking we were done but instead he grabs my ankles pulling me down towards him and flipped me over so I'm on my hands and knees. He was behind me pushing himself back into me, I let out a moan and gripped the sheets.

He grabs my hair pulling my head back as he was ramming into me, the slaps could be heard from a mile away, his grunts could make me cum again.

"Yes! Oh fuck yes!" I moaned.

"That's right baby say my name, who makes you feel good."

"You do, oh god yes!" I moaned, my breast jiggling in each thrust.

"Say my fucking name doll."

"T-Toji, don't stop please!" I moaned.

"Cum again for me baby."

"Oh god! Yes, I'm gonna cum!"

My orgasm was building up, my body was trembling, my eyes rolling in the back of my head.

"You want me to cum inside you huh, answer me doll."

"Please Toji, fill me up!" I moaned.

"Good girl."

He went deeper and I was at my limit, my body was trembling as my orgasm came to its climax, his hot seed filled me up.

He pulled out and collapsed next to me, I fell on the bed and he wraps his arms around me and pulls me closer to him.

"So I guess I won't be going back home tonight." I laughed, he smirked kissing me as our tongues fight.

"You won't leave this bed not until the sun comes up." I could feel his cock still hard.

"Round 3?"

"Fuck yes."

The whole night was spent fucking, he kept his word we ended when the sun was already peaking through the dark clouds.

Meanwhile the door swung open, revealing a sleepy Megumi as he crawls in the bed between the two of you.

You both opened your eyes noticing how Megumi must've fell asleep trying to wake his father, Toji was admiring how you looked so soft around his children.

Kissing your forehead, "your gonna make me wanna knock you up with my babies." You both laughed.

"Is that your way of asking me out or not?"

"I'd really want to ask you out on a date." The door swung open revealing Tsumiki.

"Utahime is at the front door looking for Y/n" She said, looking back and forth and her fathr then you.

"Oh crap." You mumbled.

[mistydeyes]

what's in 141's pockets and bags: simon "ghost" riley edition

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊

In Ghost's denim jeans and leather jacket pockets, you can find this collection of items. He carries the bare necessities with him and keeps all the extra items (loose change, paracetamol, lighter, random tea bag) organized in an empty Altoid's tin. Although some of his items have been "decorated" by a certain Sergeant, his items are a reflection of his stoic, serious life.

an extra black face mask - never goes anywhere without an extra! it helps to be prepared

airpods pro + case - a bit of a splurge but he likes the way the ear buds fit in his ears rather than the original airpods. plus they're noise canceling!

paracetamol - for the constant aches and pains when he’s off duty

cigarettes - similar to the mask, simon always has a pack on him. he’ll cynically laugh at the warnings all uk packs have before he takes one out. he smokes marlboro golds like all hot people do :)

a lighter - constantly is losing them, probably picked this up at the convenience store last week and when he let soap borrowed it, got it returned with stickers that he can't remove

cash - despite having a wallet, he mostly uses his card but for the off chance he needs cash

earl grey tea bag - not sure when this ended up in his pocket but he keeps it just in case

iphone 11 - a phone that functions well enough is good for him, he doesn’t need a fancy camera or all these gadgets (bonus: he does not have face id turned on). when he wasn't looking someone added a ghost sticker and for the life of him, he can't remove it

same black leather wallet he's had it for years and still uses it even though he should really get a replacement

credit cards - simon doesn't have one but two cards, he doesn't buy much but his credit score is amazing from his frugal spending and well paying position

military id card - one of the only items where you can see the real simon riley's face (no one has seen this card before)

altoids can (empty) - he keeps most of his items organized in the case (the earl grey, loose cash, paracetamol, and lighter)

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊

link to Part I - Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

a/n thanks for all the love on the last one! by popular vote here's what's in ghost's pockets :) next will be soap and finally we'll end with everyone's favorite captain!

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Learn the Hard Way 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, Nick Fowler (Professor AU)

Summary: you return to campus is less than glorious.

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all. 

Despite the apartment being a dream come true, almost too good to be real, you find it hard to settle in. Something has you uneasy. You know how life goes. There’s going to be a kick in the mouth at some point. 

You’re still waiting for it the next day. You shower and dress before you head off to campus. You wear your favourite getup; not that you have much variety. Jeans, vans, and a plain tee under your grey denim jacket. It gives off the vibes that you don’t give a fuck, yet you really have a lot of fucks to give. 

First on the docket is your most dreaded. The Business of Photography. You’re sure it’s practical but you’re also not the best at logistics. You’ve looked over the syllabus and there’s a whole unit on accounting. Gulp! 

You follow a group of girls in uggs and barrel jeans into the lecture hall. One look from the blond with the high ponytail girds you way from attempting to ingratiate yourself. Flashbacks of high school have you finding a seat well on the other side of the room. 

More students siphon in and the room grows raucous as their voices rise to the high ceilings. You sit with your head down, scrolling on your phone. Oh! You forgot. You bring up Auburn’s convo and type in a quick hi. You haven’t heard from her since right after you parted the day before. You wonder how her classes are going. 

You black the screen of your phone and put it face down. You lean back in your chair and flutter your fingers impatiently. Your ears are starting to itchy from the sheer volume of your peers. 

The overhead speakers scuff and a deep voice fills the hall. “Shut the fuck up!” 

The silence that falls over the rows of students is so stunned you almost laugh. What you overheard amidst the cacophony was way worse and you had half a thought to tell them the same. You peer down to the front of the hall and wince. You knew that voice was familiar... 

“Now that I have your attention,” your landlord lets go of the microphone and stands straight at the podium. “I’m Professor Hansen. Professor Mason has gone on a sabbatical so here I am to pick up his mess. This is--” He pauses, seemingly annoyed at even being there. He pulls his phone and squints at the screen. “The business of photography? Good fucking luck.” 

He’s unbothered that his last comment echoes in the speakers as plain as day. You hide your mouth behind your hand. It’s not funny. It’s obvious he doesn’t give a shit. That being here is like plucking hairs from that mustache of his, yet, his agitation is entertaining. 

“Alright, which of you is gonna get up here and get the slides going?” 

There’s hesitation and students look back and forth, hoping anyone is brave enough to sacrifice themselves. There’s no volunteer. Hansen’s sigh wafts over the mic. 

“Four-eyes,” he points and snaps at the front row. “You look like you play League, get your ass up here.” 

The skinny boy in the front row stands, hesitating before he gets his footing. He crosses to the podium as Hansen snaps his fingers again and stomps his foot. “Chop chop, Revenge of the Nerds.” 

Ooh. You haven’t seen that in a minute. You know for damn sure it aged like lettuce.  

The class is silent as the unlucky soul assists Hansen in setting up the projector. You can hear the little snipes through the microphone. What a start to a class. It only dawns on you as the slides flash onto the screen that this is weird. You’re taking a class with your landlord. Should you switch sections? 

“Alright, hey, Poindexter, take a seat,” Hansen chirps and points the skinny coed back to the front row. “Let’s get started.” 

He swipes up the clicker and goes to the next slide. He groans, “really? Look at this shit. I’m no artist but the composition...” he stares up at the projected slide. “Holy fuck. Alright, write this fucking down.” 

He tosses the clicker. 

“Business isn’t fucking pictures. Business is numbers.” A murmur ripples through the classroom and Hansen leans into the mic again, speaking directly into it. “Did I say you could fucking speak?” 

You snort into your palm and keep it flush to your mouth. You shouldn’t laugh. It’s really not funny. You lean your chin into your hand and focus on keeping your amusement locked up. 

“Back to business. Literally.” He says, “and that’s how you fucking use that word, girlies. Your little feels, those aren’t ‘literal’,” he mimics a California bleach blond in the last utterance. 

There’s an uncomfortable shift in the seats. You huddle down as much as you can. As funny as this very crass and unprofessional lecture might be, you really don’t need to be noticed. Especially considering you could very easily bring any drama home with you. Would that be literally? 

Hansen continues on in his lecture-slash-diatribe. He might be blunt and at times condescending, but he knows what he’s talking about. He dismisses the class with a ‘you can go now’ and slams shut his laptop. He definitely is not happy about this spontaneous assignment. 

You’ve never seen college students move as fast as they do in that moment. There’s a low buzz of voices, too afraid to rise over a whisper, and the rustle of skirts and jackets, the squeak and scuff of sneakers. You sidle along the row, penned in by those closer to the center aisle. 

You come out at last and as you head for the rear door where everyone else is streaming toward, that deep timbre rolls over the hall again. 

“Ashley,” Hansen calls out. Several girls turn around in dread as the professor calls out the common name. “The one dressed like Cobain, get down here.” 

You lift your foot to the next step and stop. The rest of the girls quickly flee. You think he forgot your name. You turn and point to yourself with your thumb. 

“Me, sir? It’s Ash,” you explain. 

“Don’t give a fuck, come here.” 

Great. How the hell did he sift you out of the sea of students? You slowly descend as he lifts his bag from the table and crosses his arms. He approaches you around the other side of the podium. 

“So?” He prompts. You stare back at him dumbly. “The apartment?” 

“Oh, yes, it’s awesome. Thanks.” 

“Sure the fuck it is. All the work I put into it. Look, was gonna drop a notice but I’ll just tell you now. I need to check the alarms. City bylaw.” 

“Right,” you nod. “Okay.” 

He narrows his eyes, “I need your schedule.” 

“My schedule?” You wonder. 

“Fine, I’ll just fucking walk in, I don’t care.” 

“Shit, sir, I mean... I just, okay, like I didn’t know what you meant. Fu—shoot,” you take out your phone. “I’ll send you a screenshot.” 

“Fan-fucking-tastic. Now get the fuck outta here. I’ve had enough of you college girls,” he growls. 

You nod and turn back up the steps. As you ascend, you mutter to yourself, “my fucking pleasure, sir.” 

He huffs, “fucking heard that.” 

You freeze and cringe at the doors ahead of you. 

“Like I said, have a good day, sir,” you turn back to wave then quickly flit out. Well, that went horribly. 

[astralnymphh]

⤹ okay but on the topic of vampire!ellie, which one do you guys personally like?? has nothing to do with what i'll write next, just a curiosity + headcanons. MDNI 18+ enjoy this free vamp!ellie brainstorming content with a random side of nipple fixation!

¨༺ ♱ ༻¨

teenage dirtbag vampire!ellie in a modern realm who can't stand being in her parents suburban hell born house, tired of their cockalorum and urging for her to engage more in the vampiric branch of her family. attend the parties, go human–hunting with the other blood–ingesting addicts, try this, do that. it all irked ellie the wrong way, made her psyche boil, cause all she wanted to fucking do was you. she craves only your blood, your taste, the metallic ribbons pumping your lifeline was like a goddamn nectar to her. and you let her feed, because you loved her. you let your meat sack of a body replace her breakfast, lunch, dinner– first and final meal.

that's why you let her move in with you. cause you fucking can. now, every itty–bitty token of her life tangles with yours on the walls. pictures and awards, a manifold of knickknacks cluttering the window sills, even her clothes tend to blend with yours– an illusive invitation for you to wear her clothes without the question ever pressing her lips apart. you both are madly besotted in each other. no denial objects to that.

and, fuck, this version of ellie is hot. fitted tanks absent of a bra– pale brown pierced nipples erecting the thin fabric into a small mound. gray wash skinny jeans that fit her lean legs well, waistband cruising nicely under that peek of a v–line, fraying at the ankle hems that contrasts into those battered up converse of a similar hue. oh, and usually cloaks her shoulders up in a sable leather jacket– with your name patched in. a jacket, so prized, alwaaays winds up hurled to some isolated and cimmerian corner of your room, purely cause she lacks the care to hang it up whenever she returns home in a scramble, fangs unsheathing for blood. her knees would find themselves pressing hard into the mattress beneath both of you, centering a large gully of weight where her half–unzipped crotch and your butt meet, thirstily rutting to the point of numbing your clit through the hard denim of your pants. her zinc button just kept pounding that shit, keeping you spread wide. while dry humping you, she'd moan and groan hot on your earlobe, fangs partial hooking on the rim, "mhh– fuck n' suck, babe– can i? fuuck.." 'fuck n' suck' was just some made–up code for, well, it should be obvious. times like those, where she intends to fuck her pussy rough on you without remorse, whilst drying your organs of blood.

ohh, but i'll write that in detail one day~

gothic vampire!ellie who lodges high on a hill, deep in the mighty fathomage of her grandoise palace, steeples scaping high into the howling sky– torn asunder by a network of lightning above. you're nothing but meat and blood, princess, a feast inside regalia. every freshwater pearl, every satiny reflection of light off your dress, only made your flesh more supple in her fluorescent fern eyes. those lucifer–damned pupils though, well, let's just say you can't even measure the green pool of her eyes anymore. dilating, big black saucers, ballooning the milken white away whenever she snags a glimpse of your blood. that phantom heartbeat of hers races madly, mad of love for that color. for that glisten of liquid. so divine, she thinks. a gulp bolts down her gullet when within a measly foot of you, or, more specifically, a mere gate between the two of your noses. how else is she supposed to store her cache of sustenance?

yes, that's precisely what i'm hinting at. a holding cell. dusty and decrepit, rats abundant skittering the stone ground, and you swore cobwebs began to web themselves in your hair– now loose and unbraided. that brute of a girl would crouch on the opposing side, dangling keys on a loop sat upon her finger, ploddingly wagging like a swinging great axe. taunt, taunt taunt taunt.. is all she would skip about and do. slip into your cell quickly and play with you. kitty–cornering you and blocking you in her arms, cooing how terribly sorry she feigns to be, for jailing you up and treating you like meat. however, tides turn, and so do emotions. could it be, the dracula upon the misty cliff– has fallen in love?

turns out, witty princesses with a snakish tongue and spit to spare really turned her on. fuck, even you cursed yourself for rending your guard and feeling a magnetic pull to that hunk of a beast, clad in her midnight black, puffed sleeves and collar drawstring shirt. finely sewn black trousers and shiny black boots, curse you, for finding something about that hellishly horrid outfit so handsome on her. there's– oh, this particularly noticeable asset tp her garb as well. the black dye was nearing translucency, and if you loitered your vision directly on her chest long enough, caught in the right cosmic light, you could see that waxen bosom and her nipples, light brown contrary to her vampiric skin. haha, how humiliating it was when she caught you staring at them as she stood in front of your sat stature, being so brazen enough to ask, "something caught your eye princess? shall i strip myself of this, then?" whilst her hands mindlessly tucked under the loose hem anyway, wringing the fabric over her head and banishing it aside. "here, feel my dead heart–" swirled her voice, thrusting her hand out to grasp yours, cold as the ice age, her mitts froze your wrists and yanked them forth, pressing them flat against her breast and swiping her thumb across your contrasting warm skin, leavening with excitement as you fondle. she stows her knee on the bed adjacent to your thigh, whispering, so.. so, hauntingly, "feel that? no pulse, no life, not a spark lives within me, dear." and it was nothing vastly far from the truth. beneath her erect nipple, was no beat. eyes widening to a moon, and lips parting to steal simply too much air, you shudder. was it fear, you shuddered for, or arousal? that's a tale, for another day.

[hoshigray]

Hi!! I love your Toji so much you write him so well 🙏🏼 I was wondering if you could write something smutty about motorcyclist toji or like something to do with a car 🙊

Tysm, noonieeeeee~♡ ;w; Not ppl actually liking how I write for this sly bastard!! And oooooo a motorcyclist!?? Lol, never thought I'd write something with this idea, but here we are!! Please enjoy~~~ Also!! Just announced a series that I'll be writing for the summer, so check it out if you're interested!

Cw: Toji x fem!reader - explicit content so minors DNI - oral (f!receiving) - the reader is in college studying for finals - Daddy kink - motorcyclist! Toji - sexual acts in a public space (at a park in the night) - pet names (baby, angel, pumpkin, sweetie) - pussy drunk! Toji - clitoral play (plus light bites to the clit) - fingering - overstimulation - it ends on a cute note bc I'm feeling soft. Wc: 1.7k

The time is 10:45 p.m. when you look up at your laptop. You look around to see the work-study employee come in your direction, and you smile with recognition since you know they're about to tell you it's time to go. They smile back, turn back to where they came from, and you stand up to gather up your things.

It was the beginning of finals week, and it's been downright abysmal. Not only do you have three papers to write (one being a minimum of eight pages), but you also have a group presentation and two in-person exams three hours long each. You and your roommates barely get enough time to hang out, especially when you're practically cooped up in the library all day like today. When library hours are over, you walk to another building where you spend more hours studying and writing. And by the time you get to your dorm, you go straight to sleep and repeat the process.

It doesn't take rocket science to know that you — and everyone on the campus — have absolutely abhorred exams. However, for the sake of your grades, you endure it and do what you can. As long as you have a proper place to study and stop by your campus café for some quick grub, so be it.

But now, you've been studying non-stop without wasting time on distractions. It's time to go; you'll probably call it a night and head for bad. Your productivity finally dwindled down to exhaustion. I'll jump onto Discord to chat with some friends and see what they've been up to. They're probably doing better than what I'm going through...And if he's still awake, I should definitely call—

As you put your bag on your shoulder, the sound of an engine catches your attention. A motorbike engine. At first, you figured it was coming from the main street until it started getting closer. Is someone ordering Doordash or something? Curiosity has you as you walk down the stairs to exit through the entrance, waving goodbye to the receptionist who's also getting ready to leave.

When you enter the chilly outside air, the owner of said noise is parked in front of the entrance, the vehicle stationed for him to lean back and briefly look at his phone before putting it away. They're wearing a dark denim jacket covering a black shirt and some jeans. And a jet-black helmet that shields them with their tinted visor. Their dark appearance fits the dreary, foggy atmosphere, the lampposts only making them visible to the eye.

You freeze for a second when the mysterious person turns to face you, and you offer an awkward smile and nod as a quick greeting before heading your way. But then the person removes their helmet to reveal themselves to you, and your eyes widen.

With slightly messy raven hair and green eyes that capture your figure, the man flashes a grin that pulls his scarred lip upwards. Toji Fushiguro, your boyfriend you haven't seen since Easter break, was here.

"Hey, baby." It feels like forever since you've heard his gruff voice, and it has you smiling hard in seconds.

"Toji!" You run up to him for a hug which is returned, sinking into his strong arms and warm chest while his cologne fills your nostrils. "What are you doing here?"

"Thought I could come down here and surprise my lil' angel," he sways you in his arms, relishing having you in his embrace. "I texted you that I was gonna pull up."

You withdraw from the hug and look at him with mild confusion. "You did?" You quickly grab your phone from your pocket and go to your messages, only to see that he, in fact, texted you earlier. Two hours ago. "You did...Sorry, must've left my phone when I was heading out to grab something to eat."

He shrugs and slides his hands down your waist to pull you close again. "How're your exams goin'?"

"Terrible." He chuckles when you give him a faux pout. "I got one paper out the way, but the others...at least I've started on them."

"Mmm, I bet." He responds with a hand on your cheek and your forehead. "Gonna head home to study some more?"

His big warm palm nestles perfectly against your cheek as you lean to his touch. "Nah, I'm too exhausted, and I'm too stressed to think anymore. That's for tomorrow."

Toji hums with a smile. "Well, think y'r too stressed to hang with me for a while? Maybe I can relieve some tension."

You raise a brow at him and his smug grin. "Oh yeah? How're you gonna do that?"

"Hop on so you can find out." The man removes his hands from you to open the trunk of his motorcycle, handing you a helmet — your helmet as it's your favorite color.

You give your boyfriend a look. "This better not be like last time when you took me to some random ramen place where we ate super spicy ramen to the point of boogers running down from my nose."

He laughs. "No, it's not gonna be like that. Now get your cute ass on so we can go, pumpkin."You still study his face, yet don't try to argue while putting on your helmet and take your spot behind him after putting your bag in the trunk.

When he knows you're appropriately sitting in the passenger seat with your arms linked around his waist, he starts the engine and revs the vehicle before moving. The two of you drive away from the school premise. You can only wonder where the man is taking you, but your trust in him has no bounds. And you just watch the lights and people of the vicinity fly past as you rest against him.

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊✩₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

The two of you pulled up to a parking lot of a quiet park. No sign of children playing on the playground as it's way past their bedtimes, and not a single person on the basketball court playing a late game. Just the still park paired with the comforting silence and humid, cool air.

Nothing but quiet, minus your whimpers leaving evading your lips. "Haaaah—Ahhh! Daddy...'S too much, feel so—Hmmm!"

You're now lying on Toji's motorcycle, your back on the seats and your hands gripping the handlebars. Your lower half was completely exposed, with your bottoms and panties discarded around your leg. Your boyfriend was busy burying his face between your legs on his shoulders, his firm hands on your waist to keep you steady and close.

With the flick of his tongue on your clit, you bite your lip to repress a whine. But Toji wanted your cries. "Mmmm, don't do that, sweetie. No one's around, so lemme hear you."

His tongue goes back between your slick-coated vulva, sucking and lapping around the folds to have your essence in his mouth. His nose brushes up against your clitoris, resulting in a lovely moan from your swollen lips.

It's been about 10 minutes of just him ravishing your body outside this public park. You've already come three times, yet the man is relentless in having you again. He's so stubborn, so selfish. But God, it feels so good.

"Nnnmph! Hoooo—Ohhh! D-Daddy, please, your tongue, it's tew muuuch!" Your words are slurred, brain too foggy to properly speak with his tongue "Can't cumm anymore...Aaaahhhh!!"

Unbeknownst to you, Toji sneaks a hand down to your clitoris and swipes up and down with the sensitive button. Your body jerks upward from the surprise, but Toji's other hand keeps you grounded on the stationed vehicle so you and the motorbike don't go kissing the ground. "C'mon, sweetie. One more fr' me."

Before you could protest further, his tongue laves your clit again, sucking on the poor bud and lightly brushing it against his teeth. Eyes roll to the back of your head as your hips jolt to the abuse of your poor bud, and his free hand switches places to finger your leaky chasm with your fluids coating his digits.

Your release hits you hard for the fourth time that night, and your legs quake with a sharp shiver down your spine. Your cunt spasms around his fingers while the euphoric aftershocks send your body trembling.

Toji removes his face from you and looks down at your dazed expression from capitulating to your high. He whistles. "Damn, you're lookin' good lying on my bike all fucked out like this, angel."

Even in a haze, you send the man a glare. "I hope you brought a towel to clean me up."

"To clean my bike, actually." Your glare hardens, and it makes the older man snicker. "Relax, I got another one just for you."

It takes a few minutes for you to dry yourself up and for the bike to be clean of your essence and sweat. Once you pull up your bottoms, Toji has his eyes on you. "Did that help with y'r stress?"

"Mmmm, yeah, I think so." You give him a peck on the scar on his lips. "Thanks, Toji."

"No problem, kid." He pulls you by the waist to bring you close so he can rest his chin on your head. "Wanna spend the night at my place?"

"......Is that why you drove me like fifteen minutes away from my school?"

He doesn't answer.

"And I'm pretty sure we've been here before because isn't this the same park that Megumi and Tsumiki play at?"

"......"

You peer up to face the silent man. "Toji—"

The older man leans down to kiss your plump lips softly, silencing your words. With a heavy sigh, he puts his forehead atop yours. "I missed ya, kid."

The tiny confession takes you aback for a moment, but your smile appears for him to see. "Awww, did my big Toji miss having me all to himself~?"

"Shut up." He playfully bites your cheek, prompting giggles that sound like sweet music to his ears.

"I missed you too, Toji." You say with loving eyes. "Once I'm done with finals, take me on a nice long ride on your motorcycle, 'kay?"

He hums to your request and kisses you once more. "Sounds like a plan."