#Low sugar beer

[brewscoop]

Attention beer lovers with diabetes! 🍻 Discover the world of diabetic-friendly beer with our latest article - find out how you can savor delicious brews without the sugar worries. Dive into the joys of low-carb and craft beers designed to keep your blood sugar levels in check, while not sacrificing flavor. Your journey to guilt-free indulgence starts here. Cheers to health-conscious choices! 🌟 #DiabeticFriendlyBeer

#diabetic-friendly beer #low-carb beer #craft beer #blood sugar levels

[cardboard-sorceress]

If u hate yourself at 2 am… maybe you don’t. Go take an ibuprofen and get that midnight snack. It may not fix everything, but the Demons™ will probably hurt a lil less.

#wowie my blood sugar was low #turns out having three beers and a tiny cup of soup for dinner was a bad idea #the half a basket of fries and black coffee for lunch probably didn’t help… #self love is easier some days than it is others #you may not love yourself every day #but you gotta live in your body 100% of the time #so take care of it so that you can love yourself another day #… do as I say not as I do haha #tomorrow’s a new day #anyway if you’re reading this #thanks #eat a proper meal and take care of yourself today for me #<3 #2 am ramblings #k rambles

[roombas-root-beer-barrel]

This is a very generic root beer, and there is absolutely nothing special about it. That said, it was infinitely more palatable than Virgil's sugar-free root beer. If you're watching your sugar, Sprecher Lo-Cal is the way to go. If you're not, get regular or maple Sprecher's instead.

8/10 compared to sugar-free root beers, 5.5/10 compared to regular root beers.

#root beer #soda #carbonated #fizzy #low calorie #low sugar

[apomaro-mellow]

Every Baby Needs a Daddy

Part 1/?

Modern au rock star!Eddie & sugar baby!Steve; alpha!Eddie/omega!Steve

Fall was in full swing and a chill was officially in the air at all times. Most especially as the sun started to go down. Eddie was warm in his leather jacket but for a brief moment his heart went out to the guy standing outside the bar, arms bare to the wind. He was dressed in a striped polo shirt and jeans, not quite what one might see in a dive bar like this.

But he was probably waiting for someone, so Eddie went inside without another thought, catching just the smallest whiff of his scent as he walked by. An omega. He was definitely waiting for someone then. No one kept their omega idling for long. Once inside, Eddie took his shades off, the lights low enough to keep most from recognizing him.

It helped that he was flying solo tonight. No band members or bodyguards in sight. It was nice to be anonymous sometimes. Not that fame and fortune ever got tiring, it was just a good change of pace. He posted up to the bar, ordered a beer, and got comfortable. He was right in the middle of a conversation with another patron about the current season's fishing prospects when that scent washed over him again something like lavender and petrichor.

Although, when Eddie looked over, that second part might've just been the scent of actual rain. The omega from outside was sitting next to him. The tops of his shoulders and head were damp.

"Was wonderin' when you'd come in and grace us with your presence", the bartender said.

The omega simply rolled his eyes and didn't order anything. Eddie saw him shiver and without thinking, took off his jacket and placed it over his shoulders. He realized what he'd done when the other man froze.

"Sorry you just looked cold and maybe you were but I shouldn't've just done something like that I can-I can take it back", he reached out.

"No", the omega held onto the jacket. "No, it's fine. I was cold. Thank you."

"I uh, saw you outside. Boyfriend making you wait?" Eddie inwardly cringed. He meant to be more subtle than that. Meant to say something anything else.

"Don't have one." The omega got a strange look as he finally looked Eddie square in the face. "Have I...seen you somewhere before? Sorry", he shook his head and let out a breath of laughter. "What I line. I swear I'm not-I'm not trying to come on to you or anything, I just know I've seen you on like tv or something."

Eddie couldn't judge on pick up lines after what he said about a boyfriend. "You...you might've." He looked around and contemplated for just a second before he continued. "Ever heard of Corroded Coffin?"

"They're a band, right? That's where I know you from?"

Eddie grinned. "Yeah, that's where." He could tell this guy just barely recognized him and that it wasn't an act.

"God, Dustin would kill me. I can hear him now. Sorry, I'm probably not the kind of fan you like running in to."

"I'll take polite conversation over groveling any day. So do you know any of the member's names?"

"I know there's the guy Dustin likes the most because he can play drums and the bass. He admires talented people like that. And he goes on and on about this Eddie guy, but I can never remember which one-you?"

"Me, handsome", Eddie grinned. "And your name?"

"Steve. But I also answer to 'handsome'."

Steve. Eddie had to taste it on his tongue. "Steve. And were you waiting for Dustin before the rain brought you in?"

Steve smiled now, adjusting Eddie's jacket across his shoulders. "No, I wasn't really waiting for anyone. And before you ask, Dustin is definitely not my boyfriend. I'm completely untethered." Steve ran a hand through his hair, not so damp anymore after they had been talking.

"You gonna order something or keep taking up space at my bar?", the bartender asked.

"What's your poison, Steve?"

"Oh, I can't pay you back", Steve said.

"Then don't. Order something."

"I mean I really can't pay you back, Eddie. I was hanging around outside because I...because I'm between paychecks right now. And I'm not that kind of omega." Steve's shoulders hunched up in shame and he looked like he was about to remove Eddie's jacket.

"I didn't say you were. You don't have to pay me like that. I take many forms of compensation. Including sparkling dialogue with gorgeous men."

"Really?", Steve asked, voice flat in disbelief.

"Really."

Steve turned to the bartender. "Whiskey sour please."

Eddie smiled. "So, what's your opinion on farmed fish versus wild caught?"

---------------------------

Steve had been going through the worst day of his life. Work had been awful and he had wanted to scream. He ran out so quick that he forgot his jacket and was already halfway home when he remembered. He kept going. He wasn't going back there today. He got to his apartment, ready to fill his empty stomach with something only to find he was devoid of food.

Of course. He'd cleaned himself out with his last heat and hadn't gone grocery shopping since. He'd been eating out for the past week. And if he checked his bank account....

$10.43

And pay day wasn't for another three days. Steve was desperate. It was plenty of money if he went to the convenience store right outside his apartment. But the cashier there always gave him odd looks and he just didn't have the energy for it. He contemplated sending someone in to buy his stuff, but he wasn't feeling very trusting right now.

Which was how he ended up at the bar. The dollar store would've been an option last week, but it was a couple of miles away and his car was in the shop. He didn't even know what his plan was. Buy the cheapest drink and fill up on pretzels and nuts? It was why he was standing outside as the sun got lower, just feeling sorry for himself.

He just wished someone would take pity on him. Would see how hard he had been working and told him it was okay, he could take a break now and they'd take care of him.

Hell would probably freeze over first though.

Then the rain started and he couldn't waste time out here any longer. At least inside the bar, it was warm. Steve already wasn't looking forward to the walk home. What if it was still raining? He couldn't afford to get sick right now. He sat at the only empty seat at the bar and thought of the least pathetic way to ask for a cheap drink when something warm came over him.

It smelled of ginger and cinnamon and for a moment, Steve was drowning in it when he heard the owner of the jacket try to apologize for it and then take it back. Instinctively, Steve held onto it tighter.

"No, no, it's fine. I was cold. Thank you."

The alpha next to him said something about a boyfriend that Steve barely registered but figured out by context what he was asking.

"Don't have one." He shook his head and then actually looked the alpha up and down. Curly hair spilled over his shoulders and he looked smaller without the leather jacket that was currently over his own shoulders. There was something oddly familiar about him. Like he'd seen that face on his social media feed or something.

When Steve asked, he realized he was talking to a guy in Dustin's favorite band. He felt like an idiot. This guy was probably used to starstruck fans bowing at his feet and here Steve was, just treating him like a nobody. But try as he might, Steve couldn't pretend like he was some big deal, even imagining Dustin's lecture on proper celebrity sighting etiquette later didn't change things.

Then the alpha, Eddie his name was Eddie, introduced himself and then asked for his name, tacking on a compliment at the end of the question.

"Steve. But I also answer to 'handsome'." He couldn't help being a little hungry for some positive attention right now.

Then Eddie asked a very unsubtle question about Dustin, insinuating that he was some kind of boyfriend and Steve wanted to laugh. The little kid he had babysat that had been like the pain in the ass brother he never asked for definitely wasn't that. And he let Eddie know that.

"Dustin is definitely not my boyfriend. I'm completely untethered." He didn't know why he said it like that. He might as well have spread his legs and held up a sign that said 'open for business'. This guy was a literal rock star, he must have lustful groupies throwing themselves at him all the time. Wording it like that absolutely wasn't Steve intention. Even if his scent was so comforting and intoxicating.

Then the bartender urged them to order something and Steve felt his empty stomach drop. Eddie insisted on buying him a drink and Steve really wished he had the money for it because there was no way he was paying in any other way. And if Eddie was expecting that, he'd just as soon go back out into the rain, leaving the warm jacket behind.

"You don't have to pay me like that. I take many forms of compensation. Including sparkling dialogue with gorgeous men."

Steve searched his face for a bluff, any sign of dishonesty. But he saw none.

"Really?"

"Really."

So Steve ordered just as Eddie asked him something about fishing and clearly this night was not going to go the way he planned.

--------------------------

Eddie was halfway through his second drink and knee deep in a conversation about the pros and cons of fishing compared to hunting. Apparently Steve's dad took him out hunting before he presented and afterward, his grandfather took him out on a couple of fishing trips.

"One just seems more fair, is all I'm saying", Steve said, still nursing his first drink. "One has you sneaking up on an unsuspecting animal. The other one you're just luring them. Fish know what they're getting into. Deer don't until they're already in your sights."

"You think very highly of fish intelligence", Eddie noted.

"I once had a year long beef with a friend's pet fish. Long story. But fish are smarter than they look." Then Steve's stomach growled. Very loudly. Embarrassingly loud.

"I don't know about you, but all this fish talk is making me hungry", Eddie said. "Can I buy you dinner?"

"I suppose I've got about twenty bucks worth of more conversation in me", Steve smiled, appreciating what Eddie was offering.

Eddie paid the tab and Steve put his arms into the jacket, then remembered Eddie might want it since it was cold outside. "Did you want-"

"Keep it on. I run hot anyway and we just need to make it to my car." That was a lie, Eddie had the circulation of a failing newspaper but he liked the look of Steve in his jacket too much to give it up. And the rain had stopped so now it was just damp and cold outside.

Steve thought he should feel wary of getting into a car with a stranger, especially a famous one. But he had his phone on him and Eddie was taking him to a place with a lot of people, so it was fine. Eddie put his sunglasses on as they went inside and asked for a table in the back, which the person up front gladly accommodated.

"Not to toot my own horn", Eddie said as they were seated. "But I can never tell when and where I'll get recognized. And I don't want any tabloids tomorrow morning." Because right now, Steve didn't just look like some random guy that Eddie was wining and dining. Right now, he looked like he belonged to Eddie.

"Got any funny stories?", Steve asked.

Eddie grinned and rolled his shoulders as he got comfortable in his seat. "Well, there was the one time I was literally in a tv studio about to be interviewed with the band and someone thought I was the boom guy."

"If I was dressing up on Halloween as a boom guy, I think I'd put on this general look", Steve said, gesturing to Eddie's whole body.

"And there was the time I got recognized while at a fabric store. I'm standing in line, basket full of sewing supplies and a bunch of floral fabrics, and this woman in her sixties asks for my autograph."

"Aren't you in a metal band?"

"Yeah and some of our most hardcore fans are women over 40", Eddie said. "Don't underestimate 'em."

A waiter came by and took their orders and they kept talking. Steve couldn't believe how badly his day had started because now it felt like he was flying above the clouds. Eddie actually seemed interested in what he had to say. And Steve was constantly thrown by the different directions Eddie took the conversation. From fishing, to getting recognized stories, to horrible customers, to the perils of sailing a boat.

"Never?"

"I remember going once as a kid and was scared shitless the whole time", Steve said. "Whoever decided it was okay for me to watch Titanic in kindergarten really messed me up."

"So besides that one time you've never been on a boat?", Eddie asked.

"My parents tried getting me on a yacht once and I started hyperventilating on the dock. I stayed on the boardwalk", Steve said. Just one of the many ways he'd been a disappointment.

After the meal, Eddie offered to drive Steve home. He wanted to. But after drinks and food and talking to Eddie for so long about nothing at all, Steve felt cautious. Had his guard lowered? If he let Eddie see him to his door, would Eddie be expecting something? What made him even more hesitant was that he might let Eddie get away with it.

He was handsome and charming and had alleviated Steve's worries for a few hours. He was even going home with some leftovers in a box. For a second, Steve wondered if food was all it took.

"Hey, look, I understand if you don't want some strange alpha taking you home. What about if I just order you a ride?", Eddie suggested.

"You can take me home", Steve said quickly. "Just don't expect any dessert."

Before leaving, Eddie excused himself to use the restroom and Steve used that opportunity to do something that was probably really stupid. It was certainly pointless. But he could take a risk every now and then. He tore off a piece of the menu and used a pen at the podium up front and that was how Eddie found him.

"Ready to go?"

"Ready", Steve smiled.

The car ride was a little more quiet, both of them digesting both the food and what had happened tonight. Meeting a stranger that you clicked with, it didn't happen every day. Steve gave him his address and Eddie pulled up to the building.

"You should walk me up", Steve said. "Make sure I get there safe."

"Y-yeah, I can do that", Eddie stuttered, struggling with his seatbelt while Steve was already out of the car.

Eddie followed him to his apartment, glad now for the chill outside because otherwise he'd be sweating watching Steve's ass for so long as he walked in front of him.

"Well, this is me", Steve said.

"I had a great time tonight", Eddie said.

Steve laughed and ran a hand through his hair. "Can we come up with anymore first date lines?"

"Hmm, how's about I'd love to do this again soon?", Eddie smiled, leaning in a bit.

"I'd like that." Steve took Eddie's jacket off his shoulders.

"What if I want you to wear it for our next date?", Eddie asked.

"If you want me to wear this, you better scent it properly", Steve goaded.

Eddie pinned him against the door and smashed their mouths together. His jacket was trapped between their bodies. Steve let out a soft sound and brought a hand to Eddie's cheek.

"We can't go on a second date until the first one is over", Steve said when he pulled back. He curled a lock of Eddie's hair around his finger just because he couldn't help it.

"Your number?", Eddie asked, licking at Steve's lips.

"Check your jacket", Steve breathed.

Eddie didn't take his eyes off Steve as he went through his jacket pocket and found what Steve had been scribbling on earlier. It was a ripped piece of the menu. And it had Steve's number on it.

Part 2

If I had a nickel for every time I steddified a Marilyn Monroe song I'd have two nickels.

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #a/b/o #omegaverse #okay maybe dont expect all the parts to be this long tho LOL

[starfxkr]

western nights (pt. 1)

pairing: older!trailer park!jj x reader

summary: jj maybank knows he's too old to be messing around with a young girl like you, but he does it anyways

warnings: age gap, smut (fingering), that's p much it.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

jj was known for bein a sleaze around the trailer park. a two time felon who's doing his best to lay low by taking odd jobs around the complex so the feds don't come knocking at his door. you could catch him doing anything from mowing lawns to helping out the grandmas who's sons long stopped coming to check on them. girls came and went out of his trailer at all times of the day--clothes askew and hair messy.

but once he set his eyes on you, everyone else went out the window. he'd known of you of course, having grown up in the complex you're whole life but you were nothing more than one of many little shits running around in a little conglomerate of cheese puff fingers and sugar highs. he paid you no mind, maybe you were one of the kids he's bought crappy water pistols for, maybe not. one summer though, one summer he's on your lawn fixing your car because your mom asked, and there you were-- sitting pretty on your lawn chair reading some trashy book in what he thinks is the smallest dress he's ever seen.

the two of you lock eyes and from then on he's always finding a reason to sniff around you.

each time you pass by jj's place he lets out a whistle, sayin "wish the girls looked as good as you when i was that age." and you just roll your eyes and keep walking. he always finding something to fix around your house and your mom becomes more and more enamored with him not noticing he only has eyes for you.

it all comes to a head during a birthday party--your mom's to be exact. the whole little block is drinking, kids running around, barbecue in the air but you're sitting across from him in his too hot trailer trying to wrangle a beer out of him.

"you even old enough to drink yet? you still got one baby fat on ya." he pinches your cheek and you smack him away with a scoff, leaning over with your hands on either sides of his hips on the couch

"does it matter? you're gonna give it to me anyways." the little pout on you face makes his dick twitch in his jeans, and he makes no effort to hide his growing erection.

"nuh uh little girl, gonna need to see some i.d." you squeak when he pats your ass to 'search' for your wallet, fingers dancing at the hem of your denim skirt and sliding up you shirt to cup your breast, "feels like you're old enough to me."

your eyes flutter shut when he swipes a calloused thumb across your nipple, a tiny hmph of pleasure works it's way past your lips when he pinches the soft flesh.

the beer is quickly forgotten when he lifts your shirt off, wasting no time in getting his mouth on you--licking the sweat from the valley of your breasts and sucking on your neck as you move to sit on his lap.

"should we even be doin this? y'know my mama's realll sweet on you." you pull away from him but make no move to leave.

jj just scoffs and waves it away, running a hand through his blonde hair in irritation, "lots of women are, nothin new, been this way as long as i can remember but it never mattered to me much."

you can tell he wants this conversation to be over, his eyes raking over your body and his fingers tugging at the button to your skirt even as you cross your arms in front of you, "if she finds out we're fucked."

he shrugs, "then don't let her find out."

that's all you need to continue, letting him capture your lips with his, his rough hands travel over your soft skin, stoking the fire building steadily inside of you. despite your veneer of coolness, he can feel your pulse throbbing in your neck under his palm.

"you scared of me or somethin?" his voice is raspy when he whispers against your jaw.

you whimper in reply, "n-no?" even you notice you don't sound too sure--maybe there's a little fear despite your flirting. you wanted to be good for him, you wanted him to like you.

he looks like he doesnt believe you, but he lets it go.

"then get over here." jj yanks you back towards him until your face was tucked into his neck. he doesn't even bother taking your skirt off, just hikes it up and tugs your panties down with a smack on your ass until they're sitting right below the swell of the soft flesh.

the moan that leaves your lips when his fingers graze your clit is almost pornographic, you hadn't even realized how wet you were until you heard the slick sound of his fingers plunging into you with ease. he was obviously skillful, he found that sweet spot inside you with no problem, rubbing it in time with the thumb on your clit while you squeaked and squirmed against him, completely overwhelmed by pleasure.

you were slick and dripping down his palm, doing your best to squirm away from the assault on your pussy but he wouldn't let you, chasing after your thrashing hips and letting out a soft grunt when you sink your teeth into his neck. the way he used his fingers should be a crime--scissoring them open and slowly dragging the pads down your front wall just to hear you mewl like a kitten at the feeling. the thumb on your clit still rubbing in quick, confident circles and he could tell by the way it swelled and throbbed that you were close.

"bet those little boys never made you feel like this huh?" he laughs at you whining response, the answer is extremely apparent by the sound of your growing wetness--your high pitched keen drowned out by the sloshing of your pussy, "there you go sugar, just let it all out."

you choke out a moan and drench him, pussy locking tight around his knuckles as you pulsed, squirting your release all over his lap. there was no way he had you feeling like that just from fingering but here you were, pulse rushing in your ears as he got your clothes back right, sitting you on the couch with a kiss on the forehead as he left to go change seeing as though you soaked his jeans.

when he comes back he lets out a chuckle at the sight of you still sitting there dazed and he finally gives you that beer, "get yourself together aight?" i'll see you back out there.”

it takes you almost 20 minutes to finish the beer, still trembling and pussy aching with the need to be filled. you finally step outside, eyes hazy and brain turned to mush when you notice you don't have your panties on.

#✨.txt #jj maybank prompt #trailer park!jj #western nights

[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 ❤️

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #bouncer!eddie munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson stranger things #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson stranger things fic #stranger things #stranger things s4 #stranger things fic #frenemies to lovers #stranger things AU #bouncer!eddie munson x bartender!reader #bangaveragefics

[hwaitham]

𝓼𝓪𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓼𝓾𝓷 ⋆ ࣪˖ 𓂃𓋜

al haitham x f!reader . sfw . established relationship ﾉ fluff + suggestive ﾉ reader is smaller than haitham ﾉ kaveh!! ૮꒰ིྀ˶꜆´˘`꜀˶꒱ིྀა 

"someone's up rather early."

al haitham's kitchen is teeming with light when he walks in on saturday morning: the pots hanging from the ceiling catching the sunshine from the open window (ting! ting!), the blue flame on the gas burner that billows out along the bottom of the stone pan that rests atop it, and you.

the warmest, softest light of them all, standing there by the stove in your—his—shirt, silk strings of an apron cinched into a messy bow at your waist as you busy yourself with frothing the masala chai, turn to face your lover when his voice reaches your ears and welcome him with a cheery, "g'mornie! breakfast's gonna be ready soon."

darling angel, little sunspot in the corner of his mind.

he hums sleepily, making his way behind you and draping his broad frame over your smaller one, strong arms curled around your waist and tenderly squeezing your ribs, chin propped on your head before he leans down to nuzzle his nose into your hair—sweet and sun-warmed.

you don't need to tilt your head up to know al haitham is keeping a watchful eye as you split even volumes of the chai into three mugs, stir a tablespoon of sugar into two of them. spread ghee over the hot stone pan and wait for it to sizzle before you pour on a ladle full of dosa batter.

had it been a few months prior, you would've felt nerves from tip to toe, afraid of his silent judgement—yet here you stand now, blooming like a rose under his gaze.

it's one that's caring, tender, when he gently reminds you to watch your fingers as you're cutting an onion and to flip over the dosa so it doesn't burn.

"dosa and chai for breakfast? you spoil me."

you open your mouth to reply, but the words leave your throat as a garbled mess of stutters and little hums when al haitham surprises you with lazy kisses fluttered over your cheek, and then your jaw, trailing southbound of your neck to your décolletage.

"haitham, stoppp!" you burst into a lovely little peal of giggles when he nips at your skin—playfully, hungrily—pushing your rear back into him and shrugging your shoulders in a failed attempt to get him off you. "what if kaveh sees?"

"then he sees."

his voice is low and nonchalant, but he only holds onto you tighter, protectively, digging his arms further into your ribs as if to remind you that he's already made his home there, that he's staked his claim.

"if the sight of me loving on you drives him out of the house faster, then i may just have to do it more often."

"you meanie." you quip back and stick your tongue out at him as you transfer the crisp dosa onto a plate, reaching for the bowl of batter to make another.

a squeak escapes you before you can do so, because your lover is tilting your chin up with his finger and finally giving you a kiss where it should be given, sucking and licking at your lips, wiping a bubbled bead of his saliva off the corner with his thumb.

it's rare for your haitham to get like this—outwardly clingy with his touch, but you know him well enough to understand why he's displaying such behaviour.

"you're not still jealous from last night, are you?"

ah, yes.

last night.

celebrations at lambad's tavern after al haitham's successful demotion from acting grand sage to mere scribe—celebrations in the manner of a feast of delicacies, followed by innumerable rounds of genius invokation tcg, and concluded with pints upon pints of beer; one for the master (al haitham), one for the dame (you), and one too many for the roommate who swilled them without restraint (kaveh).

and what a sight to behold was the kshahrewar architect—your bestest friend—at the end of the night.

blonde braid mussed and his clips somehow finding their way into your hair, hiccuping and sniffling and pockets emptied beyond belief, trailing at your feet like a puppy and slathering you with sweet words and blubbering drunkenly on your shoulder:

you're so pretty, you're so kind, i really don't understand why you'd entertain a romance from someone of the likes of al haitham... i can assure you, if he doesn't get down on one knee soon, then somebody else definitely will!!

"me, jealous of kaveh? what a joke." your haitham scoffs, burying his face in your hair to hide the irritated pout on his face.

"that sounds an awful lot like something someone who is jealous would say."

"'m not jealous."

"i don't think i believe—a-ah!"

you're cut off all of a sudden—him growling into your temple and tugging you back firmly into his chest, arms unraveling from your waist to weave his fingers between your own, drawing your attention away from breakfast as he lays his love heavy on you with heated kisses to the shell of your ear, nipping and tugging and seemingly overcome with some form of carnal desire.

"i'm—" your knees wobble and knock together when he licks at a particularly sensitive spot, caging you against the kitchen countertop and leaving physical manifestations of his love over the fragile skin of your neck.

and then it becomes awfully hot in al haitham's kitchen on saturday morning, despite the stovetop now turned off and chai no longer steaming, the sun hiding behind a cloud and covering his eyes to allow you and your lover the privacy you deserve.

"i need to make breakfast—i-i'm busy, haitham..."

he hums in dismissal of your protests, mindlessly thumbing at your ring finger before he bunches your shirt up past your hips, lowers himself onto a knee and kisses up the back of your thigh—touches once possessive, greedy, now softening and sweetening into something more reverent and devoted.

"as am i."

#𝓭𝓸𝓵𝓵𝓯𝓸𝓵𝓭𝓮𝓻 ⑅˚˖ ݁ ˓ ෆ #al haitham x reader #alhaitham x reader #genshin impact x reader #alhaitham fluff #genshin x reader #al haitham x you #al haitham x y/n #haitham ❤︎

[thedramaticwriter1]

Stitch 'em up

(Dean x Reader)

Summary: An injured Dean comes back from a hunt.

Character count: 2.7k+

Warnings: Blood, a snarky, injured dean

A/N: Didn’t mean to take so long in between posts, sorry not sorry lol

—————————————————————————————————

You sit on the dinning room chair with a cold beer sat in front of you, bouncing your leg up and down. Dean had called about an hour ago to tell you that his hunt was finished and he would be on his way home. The tone in his voice was tight and it had caused your stomach to sour. 

“How bad was it?” You had asked over the phone the second he was done talking.

“Piece of pie, sweetheart. As usual” He replied and you heard him grunt in pain as he attempted to lower himself into the front seat of the Impala. 

“Piece of pie my ass, Dean. I can basically hear how hurt you are over the phone” you replied, your grip on your phone tightening as irritation and worry coursed through you. He had told you to take a break on this hunt and relax at home, he could handle it himself. As usual, he was wrong.

“Hmm a piece of pie and your ass? Count me in” his voice dropping an octave at the suggestion, obviously trying to lighten the mood.

“Not now Winchester. Just get home so I can deal with you” and with that you hung up the phone. 

Another hour you had been waiting for him since that phone call, beer untouched in front of you, starring at the bunker door waiting for him to stride on in. It felt like every minute dragged into a small eternity, each one lasting longer than the one before it. Ages passed by before you heard the rumble of the Impala’s engine and the opening and shutting of its door. 

If you hadn’t known he was hurt before, you knew it now. It took him a solid 10 minutes to walk from the impala to the bunkers’ entrance, normally a journey that lasted a couple of seconds. 

You watched as he slowly opened the door, hope in his features that maybe you had gone to bed already and he could get his ass chewed out tomorrow morning. Unfortunately for him, he’d get it right now. 

His gaze searched the room until he spotted you sitting on the dinning room chair, his whole body slumping in defeat. Like a thief caught in the middle of the night. He wouldn’t even look you in the eye, knowing exactly what he would see. 

Worry. Frustration. Fear. Anger. All of which had an equal grip on your mind at the moment.

“What happened?” You asked, not moving from your spot on the chair and not sugar coating this conversation. 

The instant he heard your tone he knew he was in big trouble, and what does someone in trouble do? They butter up. 

“Sweetheart, have I told you lately how beautiful I think you are?” He responded sweetly, attempting to bat his eye lashes at you while simultaneously trying to hide that he was holding one hand to his obviously injured left side. 

“Dean…” you responded while slowly rising up from your chair. Your voice was low and lethal, knowing exactly what he was trying to do. 

“Seriously, baby. You're the most beautiful woman on the planet..” he says as he smiles at you while attempting to straighten his hunched form. Still he’s trying to cover up his injuries, even though they are plain as day to you. 

“Winchester…” you fling the name at him, half way to him. Already you can see red seeping around where his hand is pressed to his side. Your eyes go wide as you realize he’s still bleeding from an injury he received over two hours ago. 

“Honestly Y/N, I’m the luckiest man al-“ is all he gets out as he attempts to take a step in the direction of the the hallway that leads to your shared bedroom in an attempt to escape your anger and doubles over as his legs give out from under him. 

“Dean!” You yell as you rush towards him, close enough that you're able to catch him under his arms right before he hits the ground fully. 

“Alive” he squeaks out pathetically while still trying to smile up at you. Knees on the ground and still trying to flirt his way his out of this. 

Ridiculous. You bend down so you're able to reposition his arm to hang around your shoulders. 

“Do you think you can walk towards the bathroom?” You question as you try to gauge how injured he really is. 

“Let’s try the kitchen instead” he grunts out. This close to him, you’re able to see that he has no visible wounds on his face, but you wince when you notice his lips are a shade lighter than they normally are. 

“Alright then, on the count of three. Ready? One, two, three…” you haul up as much of his weight as you can onto your own body and you both stand up straight. You stand there for a few seconds hoping he can get his bearings and won’t pass out on you. After you're confident he can make the small journey to the kitchen, you start walking. Slowly, step by step, you two head for the kitchen, you leading the way incase you need to catch him if his legs give out again. 

“I’m guessing you're not gonna let this one slide, huh baby?” He says as you cross the threshold of the kitchen, almost to the table sitting in the middle of the room. 

“Pfft, you’ll be luckily if I ever let you hunt again” you respond. Only half joking, but you’ll deal with that later. “I’m gonna sit you down on that chair okay?” You tell him as you near it. 

“Sitting sounds good right now” he responds, wincing with each step you guys take. You finally reach the chair and you gently help him lower himself onto the seat. You move around slowly so that you're standing in front of him, still holding onto his shoulders to steady him. After some time, once you know he’s stable enough on his own, you turn towards the hallway and make a beeline to the bathroom in search of the first aid kit. It became a habit of yours to always have it stocked with the essentials, even going as far as having Sam create a fake hospital personnel ID for you so you could make your way into the local hospital and steal some of the supplies, knowing you’d use them eventually. 

Rummaging though the cabinets, you finally locate the kit and rush back to the kitchen. Turning the corner, you see Dean resting his head on the table, his hand still holding pressure on whatever wound he has on his left side. 

You reach him and grab his shoulder. “Dean, wake up” you say as you shake him awake, your worry only growing as he takes awhile to wake up. His eyes open slowly at your voice: “I'm not sleeping sweetheart. Just resting my eyes for a little”. You know that's bullshit. Who knows how much blood he’s lost at this point. 

“I need to see the wound, Dean” you say sternly, not trying to give way to your concern, knowing there is a job to be done here. 

“It’s fine baby, I just need a bandaid that’s all” he says as his eyes close again, not even having the energy to look at you while he talks. 

“De, I swear to God, if you don’t show me right now, I’ll let you bleed out on this table” you say, having enough of this shit. You’re tired of him downplaying how serious this was, especially because he needed help. 

“No, you wouldn’t” he says, knowing that there was no way in hell that you would let that happen, but still. You needed to get your point across. He finally opens his eyes to look at you and must see how worried you are, cause his lips turn down into a small, sad smile before attempting to remove his hand from his side. 

“Let me” you grab the scissors from the first aid kit and make quick work of his shirt, cutting down the side near his injury.

“Hey, that was my favorite…” he responds but all protests die when he sees the face you give him. The shirt is the least of your concern. 

Slowly and carefully, trying not to aggravate the wound any further, you peel his shirt off of him and throw it to the ground. You’re finally able to get a full view of it and you're unable to silence the gasp that manages to escape your lips. 

From the bottom of his waist stretching across his ribs and ending right under his arm pit are five deep gashes, each one worse than the last. Staring at his mangled skin, one monster comes to mind that could inflict this kind of damage.

“Damn it Dean, you didn’t tell me it was a werewolf case you were on” you scold him as you assess the wounds. You grab the gauze and hydrogen peroxide from the first aid and you get ready to begin to clean the gashes. 

“Yeah, well I didn’t want you to wo— Son of a bitch!” He yells as you move the gauze you're holding to the first wound, attempting to scrub the dirty and dried blood off. 

“Don’t move or it’s going to hurt even worse” you tell him and you try and hold him still enough with your other hand so you can keep working. Eventually you’ve managed to clean out the first gash and it’s already  begun to leak out fresh blood from the irritation from the gauze. You know you need to work quickly, not knowing how much blood he’s already lost on the drive here. 

One down. Four to go. 

“You try not moving while someone burns your skin off” he retorts, complaining about the hydrogen peroxide your applying, trying your best to avoid infection. You don’t even want to begin to think of how dirty a werewolves claws are.  

“It doesn’t even burn you big baby” you say as he flinches at you when you begin to clean the second cut. 

“I’m not a big baby” he pouts, closing his eyes, trying to concentrate on anything but what your hands are doing. 

“Just save your strength and hush up” you tell him, knowing he needs to save all the energy he has left and not waste it on bantering with you. You continue working, washing the dirt and debris out of the second gash.

Two down. Three to go. 

That becomes your mantra as your mind thinks of nothing else but cleaning these wounds. 

Three down. Two to go. 

You work in silence and Dean doesn’t try to talk again, the pain being too much for him right now. You also don’t attempt a conversation with him right now, knowing that the only words that would come out right now would be filled with anger and fear, and you don’t think you have the stomach for that right now. 

Four down. One to go. 

After an eternity, you are finally able to clean the last gash, now taking a look at the true wounds in their bloody glory. “You’ll definitely need stitches for these, De. They're too deep” you surmise. All he does is nod his head and you know that the pain is getting to him. “You want something for the pain?” You question, and move to the first aid kit when he nods his head. You pull out the painkillers and grab the bottle of whiskey that was resting on the table. “Both will help, trust me” you say and you hand him the pills and open the whiskey bottle for him. 

He’s slow to move, not wanting to injure himself further. He gradually brings the pills to his lips, then the bottle, taking a few good gulps before handing it back to you. 

“Do you want to wait till they kick in before I start stitching you up?” You ask him. He shakes his head slowly. 

“Just get it over with” he responds, carefully laying his head back on the table. 

And that’s what you do for the next hour. Stitch by stitch, you close the wounds that are scattered across his skin. He’s definitely going to have a few scars, but there’s nothing you can do about that now, and it’s not like scars have ever bothered him before. He even revels in them a little, physical proof of what he’s overcome. Half way through you can tell he’s still in pain, but you notice his breathing has gotten more even, his shoulders more relaxed, and you know the pain killers have started to kick in. You breathe a sigh of relief and keep working. Your mind goes blank as you focus solely on what’s in front of you. 

Stitch, blood, stitch, some more blood, stitch, blood.

104 stitches and an empty whiskey bottle later, you finally finish. When he feels your hands lift from him, he stirs a little. 

“You done?” He questions you. He slightly slurs his words as his eyes look up at you with his head still resting on the table, waiting for your response. 

“Yeah I’m done” you respond as you finish dressing the wound. You finally stand up and look down at him. You're still upset at him for downplaying how injured he was, but seeing him now, some what whole and alive, you can’t help the knee wobbling relief that washes over you.

You reach your hand out and rub it through his hair, savoring the way it feels in your fingers. “I am so incredibly pissed off at you right now” you say weakly, but even as the words leave your lips, your eyes begin to water. 

“I know. I’m sorry sweetheart” he responds, dragging his hand up to rest on your hip. “You can yell at me tomorrow, I promise” he says, squeezing lightly.  

Your heart clenches at the gesture, and you smile through your tears. “Alright”, you respond as you wipe at your eyes. “Let’s get you to bed” you say as you move closer to him to help him stand up. You’re careful not to rub against his dressed wounds and grunt a little as you stand up with his arm wrapped around your shoulders. With small, slow steps both of you make it to your shared bedroom. You swing the door open with your foot and he turns on the light with his free hand. You make your way to the bed and gently lower him down. 

“I’m gonna get you out of these” you tell him, nudging at his jeans, eyeing the blood and grime scattered on them, knowing he’ll be more comfortable if he changes. 

“If you wanted me naked sweetheart, you could have just asked” he responds, looking up at you while attempting to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively. 

“Ha-ha, very funny. I’d like to see you try any kind of move right now” you say, turning and walking towards his dresser, searching for a clean pair of shorts to change him in to. While digging through his drawers he responds: “Oh I have plenty of moves”. You look over and chuckle at him, knowing he wouldn’t be able to move off the bed, let alone do anything else. You walk back to him and begin taking his jeans off. Slowly dragging them down his legs, you search for any other wounds, glad to not find any. Once he’s changed, you help him lay under the covers and get comfortable. He’s already asleep by the time you move to the adjacent bathroom to change yourself. Once finished, you lay down with him. 

You can’t stop yourself from staring at him, memorizing the already known freckles on his face. You reach to stroke the stubble he’s neglected to shave on the hunt, the movement causing him to stir. 

“You know I love you, right?” He mumbles, not completely awake. 

“I know. I love you too” you respond, moving to kiss his cheek. “You’re definitely gonna hear about this in the morning” you add, knowing that an argument tonight wouldn’t benefit anyone. You also were too grateful he was still in one piece to be fully upset with him right now. 

“That’s alright baby. Yell at me all you want. The sex after our arguments is always the best” he says, grinning with his eyes still closed. 

You scoff. “You’re horrible” you say, smiling back at him, knowing he’s exactly right. 

#supernatural edit #supernatural x reader #supernatural prompts #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural fandom #dean x reader #dean x y/n #dean winchester #spn #dean x you #supernatural dean #angst #fluff #dean winchester x reader

[roosterforme]

The Adventures of Dr. Tits | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: Jake gives you the world's most obnoxious nickname. Bradley has an identity crisis. And you're the one making sure everybody gets home safely on New Year's Eve.

Warnings: Fluff, swearing, suggestive language, drinking, beer pong

Length: 2800 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time! Banner by @mak-32 Check out my masterlist for the reading order

Bradley walked into the bedroom and froze as you were putting on your favorite pair of earrings. "What's wrong?" you asked, shaking your head at him. "Why are you staring at me like that?"

"You look fucking hot."

"Oh," you said with a smirk.

"This is a new dress," he rasped, running his fingers along the black fabric at your shoulder. "I really like it."

You kissed his cheek and whispered. "I knew you would, Beer Boy. It has a very low neckline."

He scoffed, "That's not the only reason I like it." But his eyes hadn't strayed from your chest for nearly thirty seconds. When his gaze finally met yours, he added, "My wife looks beautiful in everything."

"We're not married yet," you reminded him as his hand skimmed down your arm to your left hand and your engagement ring. 

"Only because you didn't want to get married the day after I proposed."

"We were standing in a Denny's parking lot!"

He just shrugged and laced his fingers with yours. "Sounds perfect to me. As long as it's us."

"A Denny's parking lot," you emphasized, and you could tell he was trying not to smile at your look of indignation.

"Nothing's too good for my girl," he replied, barely concealing his laughter. 

"Incredible," you muttered as you tugged him closer for another kiss. "You can take the Beer Boy out of the fraternity..."

He followed along, fingers linked with yours, as you led him into the dining room so you could finish setting up. "Wait, wait, it's like mistletoe. We have to kiss when we stand here," he said, leaning down to kiss you hard and proper in front of the doors that said SUGAR WILL YOU MARRY ME?

"Like mistletoe? I can't believe how sweet you are," you whispered as his lips trailed down to your neck.

"Let's call everyone and cancel." His tone was coaxing and his lips felt amazing.

"No," you moaned softly. "It's your Top Gun holiday party. And it's New Year's Eve."

When his mustache grazed the top of your chest as he said, "I'd rather tell everyone else to beat it so I can fuck my fiancée," you almost caved. But you promised everyone months ago, when you first moved to San Diego, that you and Bradley would host the annual party. There was a running joke that they got so wild one year, they almost got kicked out of a restaurant. But there was no way that was true. 

"We have to host. I promised."

"This better be low key. Seriously, I just want a nice, quiet night in," he grumbled.

You laughed while he acted like he was being tortured as he helped you carry the pretty punch bowl and crystal glasses you found at a thrift store into the dining room. "Everyone will be gone right after the stroke of midnight," you promised him. "And I thought you liked your coworkers?" 

He grunted and shrugged. "No, I like Nat. Bob's okay. Jake's annoying. The rest of the guys are fine."

"Oh my god," you whispered in awe, wrapping him up in a hug. "You love me the most, and I'm the only person you're not cranky for, Beer Boy." 

He chuckled and pressed his lips to your temple. "You're just catching onto this now? Ten years away from you has made it so that I want to be with you all the time."

Okay, well now you were thinking about canceling after all. If he was going to be extra sweet like this, you wanted him all to yourself as well. But then you heard someone knocking on the front door. Before you let Bradley go, you said, "If you're well behaved tonight, we can talk about wedding plans tomorrow."

He perked right up. "I'll be so good."

"But it's still a firm no to the Denny's parking lot." 

When you let Nat inside, she gave you a hug and said, "Hey, nice tits," before carrying a bottle of champagne to Bradley. At least now he had his friend to talk to. And you really didn't think your dress was that low cut...

After another knock, you let Bob in, and as soon as he looked at you, he was blushing profusely and stuttering. "Welcome, Bob," you said, really starting to regret wearing this dress in front of anyone except Bradley. When you leaned out onto the porth, the neighborhood was all lit up with twinkle lights. This was your first December outside of Virginia or Chicago, and it was still fairly warm outside. As you propped the door open for the others, you didn't think you'd ever get used to this kind of luxury. You had warm weather and the love of your life.

Soon Javy, Mickey and Reuben arrived with three identical smiles as they looked at you and gave you lingering hugs. "Okay, yep, that's enough," you said as Mickey squeezed you extra tight.

"Hey, Baby! Sugar!" Bradley was calling from the kitchen as you followed the guys in. "Oh, there you are. Do we have any solo cups and ping pong balls? And didn't I buy a case of PBR?"

You just looked at him like he'd lost it. It was New Year's Eve, and you were in your new dress. You even made sure he actually looked nice tonight instead of wearing one of his ratty old tee shirts. You had champagne, and he made crab dip and mini quiches to serve everyone. 

"Maybe in the hall closet? And I'm pretty sure I talked you out of the case of Pabst Blue Ribbon," you said with a frown. "That's cheap fraternity beer, Bradley. We have actual incomes now. Only good beers all the time."

"That's okay," he told you with a quick kiss as he headed for the hall closet. "We can just play with the champagne!"

"What?" you asked, ready to follow him, but the guys had turned up the music. When you looked in the dining room Nat was moving your punch bowl to the floor in the corner, and Reuben was carrying four glasses precariously stacked up in each hand. "What's going on?"

"Rooster said he's a beer pong master," Javy said, before shoving three mini quiches into his mouth at one time. 

Reuben was laughing. "He said he used to party at his fraternity house, but we don't believe him. Not Rooster."

"No," Mickey added. "Rooster always follows the rules. Never breaks them. And he never gets drunk."

"We're playing fucking pong," Bradley said when he returned wearing a backwards cap and holding red solo cups and a pack of ping pong balls. Everyone cheered. "They don't believe I'm a ringer, Sugar," he whispered just to you. "I'm about to fucking smoke their asses."

"Don't get too drunk," you said as Nat took the solo cups and squatted down to fill them using the punch you made with extremely expensive champagne. "Oh god."

"Happy New Year," drawled a voice behind you, and you spun to see Jake holding two more bottles of champagne. His gaze dipped quickly down to your cleavage before returning innocently to your face. He shook his head and said, "You know, sometimes I think Bradshaw might be onto something here."

"I'm never wearing this dress again," you muttered as he handed you both bottles with a huge grin on his face. 

"Now where's everyone else?"

Just then, loud cheering erupted from the dining room, and you walked through the doorway to find Bradley and Javy playing against Bob and Mickey. Nat changed your playlist to one that sounded like it belonged at an actual frat party, and Reuben was scooping one of your crystal glasses into the crab dip and eating it with a spoon. 

"What the fuck?" you gasped. It was like you were back at the Beta Gamma house ten years ago as Bradley took his nice shirt off and tossed it onto the doorknob of the door that said MARRY.

"I'm about to kick your ass, and the dining room table isn't even regulation size," Bradley told Mickey as the WSO missed a shot. "Sugar, we need to look for a table that's regulation dimensions, okay Baby?" he shouted over P.I.M.P. by 50 Cent. He just kept sinking shot after shot into the cups, and Bob was already looking drunk.

So maybe they all really did almost get kicked out of that restaurant before? 

Jake was unbuttoning his shirt as well now as he said, "I have next game. There's no way Bradshaw can get this lucky all night long."

Bradley smirked and laughed as he looked at you. "I can, and I do, Hangman. Don't act like you haven't seen Sugar before."

Jake laughed, and the other guys cheered. You cradled your forehead in your hands as Bradley wolf whistled at you. "Jesus," you muttered, trying to decide if it was a good idea for you to get drunk yourself or if you needed to babysit the whole group.

"Why isn't your wife playing with you?" Nat shouted, and you contemplated closing the front door before your neighbors complained about the noise.

"We're not married yet!" you replied, but Bradley had his arms wrapped around you immediately. 

"Sorry, Baby. I got excited and just grabbed Javy. You know what they say about old habits, and I haven't played beer bong in years. You're my partner next, okay? Your boobs will help distract the opponents."

You gave in and started laughing, because this whole thing was ridiculous. You let Reuben serve you some crab dip in a crystal glass, and you ate it while everyone around you got progressively drunker on your champagne punch. 

Once Bradley and Javy handily won the matchup, he kicked Javy to the other side of the table to team up with Jake who was now completely shirtless. "You're up, Baby," Bradley said, reaching for you with so much excitement. "We're going to kick ass like we used to." His lips tasted faintly of champagne when he kissed you, and you were surprised. He was so good at this game, he rarely had to drink anything. 

"Winning team goes first," Jake said, rolling the balls across the table to you as Nat set freshly filled cups in front of you. Bradley arranged the cups perfectly like this was actually his profession instead of aviation. And you just stood there and laughed as he stepped behind you and helped you square your hips.

"Okay, now, you need to be awesome, Sugar. Just like college. Because I've got like street cred on the line here."

"I got you, Beer Boy," you promised him and he moaned softly in your ear.

"Remember, it's all just a math problem, and you're so fucking good at math." He released you with a little pat on your butt, and then he was peeling his sweaty undershirt off and tossing it aside before fixing his hat. As soon as you were able to stop laughing, you tossed the first ball with a perfect arc, and everyone in the room watched it splash into the solo cup right in front of Jake while Bradley whooped. 

"What did they teach you people in Virginia?" Jake asked, looking at you like he was thoroughly impressed. And then you watched Bradley toss his ball into one of the cups, and Javy groaned as he and Jake picked up their cups and drank. 

"Roll those balls back over here, boys. We made both of our shots, so we go again," Bradley said before he kissed you hard in front of his friends. "Do you have any idea how badly I want to marry you in that Denny's parking lot tomorrow?"

You were laughing as Nat, Reuben, Mickey and Bob all lined up on your side of the table to cheer you on with the crab dip. "Kick their asses! Jake and Javy are good at everything!" Nat shouted over Big Pimpin' by JAY-Z. You did a little dance and then tossed your ball directly into another cup.

"It's just math!" you said with a smile.

"It's math!" Bradley reiterated to Javy and Jake. "And I feel bad for the two of you, because she's a mathematician." Then he made his second toss, too. "And I lived in a fraternity house for three years."

Jake and Javy looked miserable as you chanted, "Chug, chug, chug!" until they emptied their cups. Then you made another absolutely beautiful throw, and Bradley didn't let you down. In fact, the two of you made every single cup, and Javy and Jake didn't even get a chance to throw a single ball.

"House rules! You drink our cups, too!" Bradley informed them, gesturing to the untouched solo cups lined up at your end of the table. 

"Get to it boys," you said as the others cheered. 

Bradley was all over you again as Javy coughed and sputtered as he tried to chug champagne. "I swear to god, Sugar, if we weren't already engaged, I'd propose right now," Bradley told you as you adjusted the cap on his head and ran your fingers through his curls that stuck out from beneath it. 

"I'd say yes again," you whispered just for him. "Who's ready to get their asses kicked next?" you asked everyone. 

You and Bradley cleaned up so handily, the two of you were barely buzzed, but everyone else was hammered by midnight. The front door was still wide open, and the TV was on as you waited for the countdown to the new year. Bradley popped a bottle of champagne just for you and he to sip as Nat sat on the floor right in front of the TV with the punch bowl on her lap. Most of the guys were lined up on the couches, but Jake came right over to you when he stumbled out of the bathroom. 

"I need to know how you did it," he slurred to Bradley as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pointed at your chest. "How did you manage to get Dr. Tits here? She's exquisite."

You sputtered as you laughed. "Did you just call me Dr. Tits?"

Jake leaned in close to your ear and laughed. "I'm sorry, but I can't even remember my own name right now, darlin'."

"Okay, Hangman," Bradley said as he handed you the bottle of champagne and pulled Jake off of you. "Clearly she has a thing for fuckboys. You can look, because she's smoking hot and it would be impossible not to, but you don't get to touch."

Well, you couldn't deny that. Jake winked at you as he sat down next to Nat before laying on the floor. Bob had the hiccups, Javy was asleep, Reuben was still eating the crab dip, and Mickey was running to the bathroom to throw up as the clock struck midnight. "I love you," Bradley promised before he kissed you sweetly. "And I think we should spend the day tomorrow laying on the couch and talking about getting married. What do you say, Dr. Tits?"

You pressed your lips together and then said, "Only Jake is allowed to call me that," as you erupted into laughter at the scandalized look on Bradley's face.

You kissed his cheek as he said, "I swear, just for that, it's Denny's or nothing, Sugar."

"We'll talk about it tomorrow," you replied laughing as you looked at the sloppy mess of Bradley's coworkers on all of your living room surfaces. "Now help me get all of them in Ubers so you can help me out of my dress."

"Oh, hell yes," he replied as he started clapping loudly. "Wake up guys. Rides are coming. Time for you to go so I can get lucky."

The two of you herded everyone outside and into the two cars when they showed up. "Night, Dr. Tits," Jake announced loudly to your entire quiet street as he kissed your cheek before Bradley shoved him into the waiting SUV. 

"Dr. Tits..." Reuben said with a laugh. "Sounds like a superhero who is very good at beer pong."

"She is a superhero. She puts up with Rooster's shit," Nat said as she climbed in behind Jake. 

"I think my sister went to Comic Con as Dr. Tits one year," Mickey said deliriously as Bradley helped him with his seatbelt. "The many adventures of Dr. Tits. She's my favorite Avenger."

Javy was already asleep on Bob as the cars pulled away, and Bradley scooped you up on the driveway and carried you back toward the porch. "You wanna go on an adventure with me, Sugar?"

You took his hat off and put it on your own head. "Are you talking about undressing me or marrying me right now?"

"Both," he replied easily as he kicked the front door closed behind you.

"Then yes."

---------------------------

Beer Boy and Sugar warm my cold, dead heart. Fuckboy Jake, drunk on champagne, also warms my heart. Thanks to @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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#bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x you #rooster imagine #rooster x reader #rooster fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley rooster x reader #rooster bradshaw fic #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #top gun fanfiction #top gun maverick fanfiction #roosterforme

[widowbitessting]

The Devil is What You Drink - A Sugar Mommies Drabble

Word Count: 2110

Rating: General with fluffy scenes. SFW!

Dom!Natasha Romanoff, Dom!Wanda Maximoff, Dom!Carol Danvers x Sub!Reader

In retrospect, ringing one of your doms when you’re extremely tipsy and walking home alone at 1am, really isn't the best idea. 

But with the wine running through your system, it really doesn’t bother you. 

Natasha picks up after the first ring, voice heavy with sleep and it makes you grin broadly; almost jumping up and down on the spot with excitement. 

“Hi, Natty!” 

“...baby, hi.” She inhales deeply and you can picture her rubbing her eyes. “What time is it? Where are you?” 

“Oh, y’know me and MJ had that friendaversary didn’t we! Five whole years, Natty, can you believe it? How I haven’t killed her yet, I don’t know.” 

“Breathe, love.” 

“So I got home from class and MJ really wanted to go out for a drink and I was like, sure why not! So we went to that cute bar I took you one time - I got that cute flower in my drink, remember it, Natty?” 

“Yes, baby, I remember.” 

“So we went there and we wanted to be fancy again and got wine. Now I know, I know, wine is evil but it tastes so good so it can’t be that bad, eh? So we had like…two…maybe three bottles and just talked about all the stuff we’ve done together, cos’ like, five years is super long, isn’t it, Natty?”

“Yes, baby.”

“And then -” You boot a stray beer can with your foot and send it soaring into a nearby wall. It’s loud, especially in the quiet area you’re in and it immediately catches Natasha’s attention. 

“Baby…I haven’t heard MJ speak the entire time you’ve been on the phone to me…normally she pipes up…where is she, darling?” 

“Well she got picked up by Peter about fifteen minutes ago and the bar isn’t too far from home! So I thought I’d go on an adventure and - ” 

“Stop.” A deep, low voice, commands. 

The order comes so suddenly that it catches you off guard. You cease all words and movements as your inner submissive drops to her knees.  

“So you’re on your own?” Natasha asks. 

“...maybe…I just thought the fresh air would do me good..walk off the alcohol. Clever right?” 

“Y/N, you tell me right now if you are on your own walking through the dark. It’s 2am!”

After hearing your full name you can’t help but bite back a little with sarcasm.

“Well yeah, I - I have to get home somehow duh. I can’t afford a taxi and it’s only around the corner.” 

You hear Natasha rummaging around through the phone as you twirl a loose strand of hair around your finger. 

“Look around, tell me where you are.” 

You do as you’re told. 

“Hmmm…well I see black ‘cos it’s dark…”

“Y/N.”

“Again with the name, gah! Erm, I dunno, I took the shortcut and -”

“You have to the count of fucking five to get to the nearest streetlight, I swear to God.” 

“But it’s all the way over there!” 

“5.”

“I can make it there before you get to two!” 

You take off sprinting, giggling gleefully as you go, one hand pinning your cell to your ear as your other arm sticks out to keep your balance.

Only, it’s you. In heels. In the dark. 

You take the grand total of seven steps before you go crashing down, ankle bending at a near 90 degree angle as gravity takes you to the cement. You scrape your knees and your palm, squeaking upon impact.

“Detka, did you just fall?” 

“Mhm, running in heels is not the way to go. Ouch.” 

You’re lucky there’s no glass.

“Get up for me, can you do that? Are you okay?” When you reply, she continues, “now walk slower to the streetlight. And please don’t fall over any more twigs as you go.”

“That was one time!” 

“One time too many.” 

Limping and grumbling as you go, you manage to get out of the alleyway without any more injuries and cross over to the streetlight. 

“Natty, there’s gum on it. Gross.” 

“Don’t eat it. Don’t touch it.”

You drop your hand. 

“Fiiiine.”

“Where are you now?”

“I dunno, outside?” 

An exasperated sigh reaches your ears. 

“Tell me exactly what you see, Y/N. Be specific.” 

A car door slams shut through the phone as you glance around.

“I see trees…houses…oh the moon! Woah, pretty.”

“If you’ve somehow managed to get to the moon, Y/N, I will lose my shit.” 

“If I take a picture will you see it? It’s so pretty! Carol loves the moon.” 

“Baby, what else do you see?” Natasha gently reminds you. 

“Erm…oh! Oh, a restaurant! Can we go Natty? It looks nice!” 

“What’s it called babygirl, gimme a name.” 

Natasha’s car roars to life. 

“Why don’t you just stalk me, hmm? Be quicker.” You let out a giggle. 

“Because then I’d have to hang up, so no.” Natasha is silent for a second, waiting for your giggles to calm down, knowing her reply just fell on cotton filled ears. “Are you finished?” 

“Maaaaybe.”

“Now,” she warns, “I want you to listen to me because you only have one last chance, Y/N. Give me the name of that fucking restaurant before I spank your ass into next week.” 

“M-Mama’s…” You squint at the flag. “Oh! I think it’s Jamaican, I love Jamaican food!”

“Mhm, I know you do. Do me a favour? Have a look at the menu? Pick something you'd think we’d all like.” 

“Really? Even something like curried goat?” You scurry to the lit up window, eyes taking a second to adjust to the bright lights coming from inside. “‘Cos I had that once and I thought there was a fruit loop in there but it wasn’t - there’s a cat! Hi cat!” 

“NO!” Natasha practically deafens you. “Y/N, do not follow that cat!” 

“But he’s so fluffy! He’s got a big tail, hi baby!” 

“Y/N, it’ll have fleas, no! Do not touch it, stay where you are!”

“But Hedwig -” 

“Isn’t Hedwig from Harry Potter?” 

You stop walking, ashamed that those words even came from her mouth. 

“I let you fuck me with that mouth. Yes! It’s Hedwig! Harry Potter’s owl!” 

“Do you want to watch it when we’re home?” 

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Can we really?”

“Only if you choose something really yummy from that restaurant then, baby girl. C’mon, Harry Potter is on the line here.” 

“But -” 

“Say bye to Hedwig.”

“...bye Hedwig.” Your voice is tiny and it breaks Natasha’s heart. “Safe travels! Drink milk and eat tuna!” 

“God, you’re so fucking cute, baby.” Natasha mumbles. You, of course, miss it, far too busy waving the black cat off. “Now pick us something to eat, we’re so hungry.”

“You got it, boss!” 

“Good girl, baby. You’re doing so well for me. What do you see?” 

You peer close to the menu, bumping your nose against the glass. 

“Hmmm…” You don’t even hear her as the car rolls up behind you. “I dunno yet but I might get served right away, Natty, it’s empty inside. How lucky is that?” 

“So lucky baby, who’d have thought a Jamaican restaurant would stay open until 2 in the morning.” 

“I know right? But I’m not sure what to get! Maybe I should ask someone.” 

“Y/N -” 

You ignore her and go to the door, pulling it with such a force that you don’t expect it to not open. Your grip slips and you stumble back.

“Wha - hey. Daddy the door is stuck!” You go back and try to push it this time, coming to no avail. “My food! Excuse me? I can’t get in!” 

“Y/N, tone your voice down, darling.” 

“No, the food! I can see it!” You actually have tears forming in your eyes. “I want my dumplings! No! Daddy, I need you. Help me open this stupid door!” 

“Daddy’s here, baby.” 

When Natasha’s hand gently takes you by the wrist, you look at her with a pout, unphased that she’s even there. 

“Dumplings, daddy. They’re there, see!” 

She doesn't even look away from you. 

“Yes, baby, I do. But you’re shivering. Let’s get you into the car, hmm? Get all warm before you eat dumplings.” 

“...make sure you tell them they need to fix their door…that’s so bad for service…” 

You all but sag into the redhead as she carries your exhausted body to the car. 

“You’re getting sleepy now, huh?”

“Mmm, so sleepy.” 

Natasha takes her sweatshirt off and before you can even protest, shoves it over your head, enveloping you in her scent. If you hadn’t been so tipsy, you might have clocked her sweatpant and sports bra combo sooner. Perhaps even have drooled. 

You’ve been in the car for five minutes when you finally realise. 

“Woah,” You can’t help but stare at her abs. “I could eat a six course meal off there.” 

“You’ve licked whipped cream off them before, detka.” 

“Yeah well - I - you’re just, damn.” You force yourself to blink. “Someone get me a glass…I’ve just found me a tall drink of water.” 

Natasha rolls her eyes.

“Smooth, darling, smooth. Hitting on me with Disney.” 

“Did it work?” 

“No. But A+ for effort.” 

“Dang it.” 

You pass out for a few minutes, after humming a song from Tangled to yourself. You’re warm. Cosy. Wrapped up in a Natasha scented burrito and it lulls you to sleep. Jerking only slightly when the car door opens and the cold wind hits your body. Natasha - because of course she is that strong - scoops you up effortlessly into her arms and easily moves you both to the elevator. Your neck drops back, a small snore escaping you. 

She has you. You’re officially asleep, safe and sound. Punishment already thought and saved ready for tomorrow. All she has to do is carefully place you on the bed, sneak out to get water and slide in next to you. 

Only, the second your head touches the pillow, your eyes fly open and Natasha’s soul almost leaps from her body.

“Jesus fuck!”

“Dumplings! Daddy, we left my dumplings!” 

Besides you, Wanda stirs. 

“No way, close your eyes and go back to sleep, Y/N. C’mon, You were snoring.”

You pout, tears once again forming in your eyes. 

“But - ” You hiccup. “They’re lonely! They saw me, they knew I was there to eat them and I left them there!” 

“Tomorrow, darling.” 

“No, now.” 

“I will get you all the dumplings in the world tomorrow, if you will just-go-to-sleep.”

You ponder, glossy eyes looking into Natasha’s stressed ones. 

“...that’s a whole lot of dumplings, daddy. Bit excessive actually.” 

“Detka, I swear to God -” 

“Deal!” You giggle. “God I love dumplings. Got a dumpling shaped hole in my tummy as we speak. Riiiight here.” You point to your stomach and Natasha has to stop herself from laughing. 

“Go to sleep and you will get them faster.” 

“...dumplings? What? What’s happening?”

It’s like you forgot Wanda was even there, reacting like a child of Christmas morning when you register she’s right next to you; auburn locks a wild mane around her head. 

“Hi!” 

Wanda’s scream of shock is muffled by your shoulder and you both end up rolling into Carol. 

Who isn’t impressed. At all. 

“Separate bedrooms, Romanoff. I told you.” She glares at the red head who has her face in her hands. “Why the fuck have I been woken up by Y/N talking about dumplings?” 

“She’s drunk.”

“Tipsy!”

“Oh I love tipsy, baby!” Wanda snuggles into you closer. “Hi tipsy baby.” 

“Hi none tipsy mommy!”

“I cannot - ” Carol jumps up out of the bed just in time to avoid being flattened by the two rolling bodies. “Nat, what?”

“It’s a long story.” 

“Tell me tomorrow. You’re on your own.” The blonde walks past Natasha and kisses her before vacating to the safety, and peaceful, spare room. “If you can’t control them, you know where I am. They’ll tire themselves out eventually.” 

“Or order enough dumplings to feed 5,000 people. Get off your phone, Wanda!” 

The other woman looks at her a little sheepishly. 

“But dumplings sound so good right now.” 

“Have fun babe!” Carol shouts. 

Natasha sighs, watching as you and Wanda roll around the bed excitedly. You’re part way through telling her about your adventure, far too sleep deprived to notice her dommy side appearing when you tell her you walked by yourself. It’s quickly squashed down when you mention Natasha’s brave and daring rescue and you mount her legs to stare into her eyes. 

“Dumplings, mommy. We need to get them.”

“We really do.”

With an over exaggerated eye roll, Natasha slams her head on the bedroom wall. 

“I give up.”

#natasha romanoff #wanda maximoff #sugar mommies #carol danvers #reader insert #natasha x wanda x carol x reader #spiderbites #sugar mommies!asks #smu #sugarmommies drabbles #sugar mommies drabble #sugar mommies universe #sugar mommies suggestions #natasha romanoff and reader #wanda maximoff x reader #carol danvers x reader

[kitten4sannie]

15 - ꜱɪᴢᴇ ᴋɪɴᴋ - ᴍɪɴɢɪ

ʜᴏᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏʟᴅ

pairing: himbo bf! mingi x fem! reader feat. yunho, san, and seonghwa

genre: college/frat au, smut

summary: your boyfriend is really bad at taking hints.

w.c: 2.7k

warnings: alcohol use, weed mention, switch! mingi, switch! reader, mingi has a big dick, pet names, name calling, dirty talk, grinding, begging, unprotected sex (don’t be like them), bulge kink, exhibitionism, voyeurism, poor attempt at humor

a/n: love me a good himbo <3 this man is dumb in this just how i like themmm. also the song i imagine playing during the dance scene is “deep” by summer walker <3

FFF Masterlist

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You never particularly enjoyed the drink options at frat house parties. They only ever had giant kegs full of cheap beer, along with an endless supply of Tito’s vodka, swearing they had a life supply stocked up in the basement. When you asked Mingi’s friend Yunho where the soda was, all he did was shake his head and say in a slurred voice, “Coach said we gotta cut out sugar.” You genuinely wondered if he was trying to make a joke or if he was 100% serious, but the serious lack of anything chaser-related was making you think he wasn’t lying to you. It seemed like football players were fueled by countless liters of alcohol and protein powder alone. No wonder they were so aggressive on the field.

“Here,” Yunho said, handing you a solo cup filled to the brim with beer, his reddened eyes still friendly and bright. “My brother makes it himself.” You gave him a smile and a thanks, before scanning the crowd for Mingi. 

Once you found him, you took a few sips of the watered-down beer Yunho gave you, zoning in and out of the heated conversation your boyfriend was having with his friends about whether professional sports were rigged or not.

“Baby, can you please back me up?” Mingi asked in a whiny voice, snaking an arm around your waist, fingers squeezing you, his plump lips forming a pout. “Tell Seonghwa how stupid he is for thinking sports are fake.”

God, he was so fucking cute. You needed him. Needed to see him pout when he begged you to bounce on his dick. 

Taking a long swig of the glorified water, you cleared your throat, leaning your body against Mingi’s. “Seonghwa, I think it’s really bold of you to assume they’re all fake, and honestly, I think you might just be in denial since your teams never win.” 

The rest of Mingi’s drunk companions erupted in low ‘ooh’s’ and ‘damns’, some of them nodding their heads in agreement. San, who was already fucked up, made a show out of his reaction, smacking Seonghwa’s shoulder with his hand and pointing a finger at him, grinning at his friends. “He literally never bets on the right team. It’s so fucking funny.” 

Irritated, Seonghwa scoffed and rolled his eyes, taking a drink of his beer with one hand shoved into his pocket. “Where’d you find this one, Mingi?” 

“Don’t start.” Mingi clutched you against his side defensively, taking a sip from his drink. “Or else I’ll put hot chili oil in your jockstrap, like I did during your hazing.” 

That shut Seonghwa up, leading him to hold his hands up in defeat. Mingi idly stroked your hair while continuing his conversation with his friends, this time talking about their favorite plays from last night’s game. You went back to being bored, but this time your mind was swimming with thoughts of Mingi stroking your hair while his cock was down your throat. 

That was it. You needed to jump into action. However, you didn’t want to be too forward, not wanting to ask for Mingi’s cock in front of at least a quarter of the football team — though a part of you wanted them to know that he was about to pound you into oblivion. 

“Baby, I’m so cold,” you whined softly, looking up at Mingi with the cutest expression you could conjure up, rubbing your bare arms up and down. “Can you warm me up?” 

“Of course, doll.” Mingi let go of you and pulled his letterman jacket off, leaving him in a plain white, rather tight-fitting t-shirt. He put it over your shoulders, smiling at you. “Better?” As soon as you nodded and gave you a small smile back, he went back to talking to his buddies.

Damn. Too subtle. You weren’t about to give up, though. After staring into the distance for a while, idly sipping on your beer and still wishing you had access to a coke, you hatched another plan. Feeling ecstatic when a R&B song finally came on, knowing it would be easier to get into instead of the rap that was blasting out of the speakers a minute ago, you rubbed your hand up Mingi’s waist, lifting yourself up on your heels to murmur into his ear, “Baby, I want to dance. I really like this song.” 

Ignoring San’s begs for him to duel him in a game of beer pong, Mingi pressed a kiss to your temple, slipping his hand underneath his oversized jacket to touch the small of your back. “Let’s go then.” 

Maybe he was being subtle, too. How hot of him. “Yay~” You pulled his jacket off and walked over to Yunho, who was talking to someone else. You gave him the jacket, and in turn, he gave you a quick smile and put it over his shoulder to look after. 

Once the two of you were on the dance floor, which was just the oversized living room filled with drunken, sweaty people, you turned away from Mingi and pressed yourself into him, running your hands down your snug dress along to the tempo of the music. Mingi placed his hands instinctively on your swaying hips, moving along with you, leaning himself down to press his lips onto your jaw. Completely immersed in your own world, the bass thumping inside your ears, you began grinding on him in a more deliberate way, his heavy cock growing hard against your ass, making your brain feel fuzzy.

“Baby, they can see us, you know,” he mumbled under his breath, trying to pretend he couldn’t see Yunho waving at him from the kitchen and giving him a thumbs up. He definitely wouldn’t look at San, who was grabbing his imaginary tits and moaning obnoxiously loud. And he didn’t even notice Seonghwa staring at the both of you with contempt, even though there was a faint blush on his cheeks. 

You, however, noticed and acted accordingly. “Let them watch.” Placing your hands over his and guiding them up your body, you arched your back, squeezing your tits using his hands instead. Curious, you glanced over at the kitchen, finding Mingi’s friend's dumbstruck expressions to be particularly entertaining. That would give them something to talk about, instead of rambling about football for another hour. 

“Mmm…” Mingi buried his face in your neck, inhaling your sweet scent, slowly brushing his fingers over your nipples through the thin material of your dress. 

Your plan finally worked, in the best way possible, more turned on knowing his friends were watching, but not being able to do more than that and having to live through Mingi when he explained all the different times you unraveled for him. He always made sure to leave out the countless times he did that, since he always ended up drooling and begging for you to make him cum with your tight cunt. 

It took one more roll of your boyfriend’s hips and a single tit squeeze for you to sigh, “Fuck, Mingi, you’re making me feel so hot…” 

Mingi suddenly ceased all movement as a loading screen appeared inside his mind. “You were cold just a second ago.” He tilted his head, idly rubbing your arms and feeling how warm they were, before bringing his lips to your ear, his voice laced with concern when he asked, “Yeah, you feel really hot. You’re not getting a fever, are you, doll?” His eyebrows rose with concern, his lips forming a pout once again. “You kissed me a bunch before practice earlier – and, oh my god, babe, you sucked my dick. That’s like, direct contact, right?” He gasped, clasping a hand to his face, his concern almost borderline comical, but the poor frat boy was completely serious. “Do you think I’ll get a fever too now? I can’t miss practice!”

“No, baby, that’s not…” You bit your lip, too desperate to have him inside you to get annoyed. Turning around, you ran your hands up his torso, from his abdomen to his pecs, suggesting gently, “You know, a good way to get rid of a fever is to sweat it out, Min. Come with me.” 

Once you led your boyfriend to the nearest empty bedroom, you shut the door and pushed him down onto the bed, licking your lips at the sight of him. Mingi was laying down on the mattress with his limbs spread out, his shirt just barely riding up past his hips, revealing his treasure trail. He observed his surroundings, taking note of the plushies sitting next to the pillows, before looking up at you with vague confusion. “This is San’s room. Why are we here?”

“Why do you think, baby?” you asked softly, kicking your heels off, prior to climbing onto the bed and crawling towards him, your body buzzing with anticipation. 

Mingi gave you a sweet smile, running his fingers through his soft brown hair, slowly leaning his head against the firm pillow behind his head. “You want to sleep?” 

“No, baby…” you started, straddling his lap and gazing down at him with love and lust in your hooded eyes, your hand settling on his broad chest. “I want to play…”

Mingi admired you, slowly running his hands from your thighs up to your waist, taking your words literally like he usually did. “Like Legos? I think Seonghwa has some in his room.” 

You couldn’t possibly get mad at Mingi, finding it adorable how incredibly dense he was. It was a good thing he had such a thick skull; it would definitely prevent him from getting any more head injuries whenever he collided with another player on the field. It was probably time to stop being coy and just tell him what you wanted point blank. No nuance. No hints. Just your raw desire. 

 “I want to ride your cock, Min. So bad. All night I’ve been thinking about you stretching me out,” you admitted, biting the tip of one of your fingers. Your thighs pressed into his hips, your core throbbing at the thought of impaling yourself on his oversized dick for the sake of being filled by your favorite football player. “Please, Min. I’ve been such a good girl.” 

The cogs moved inside Mingi’s head for a moment, then his eyes lit up, his lips forming a wide grin. “Is that why you were rubbing all over me back there? Why didn’t you just say that, baby? You know I’m bad at taking hints.”

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” you started, lifting your dress off of yourself and tossing it onto the comforter, revealing you only had a small, lacy pair of panties on. “I should’ve just bent myself over the kitchen counter and asked you to fuck me dumb in front of your friends, huh? They’d like a little post game show, don’t you think?” 

Mingi groaned at the thought of railing you while his friends gave him pointers from the sidelines, growing hard underneath you. “You’re so hot, baby. So hot and so slutty for me.” He reached down to unbuckle his belt, popping it open, just for your greedy hands to do the rest of the work, eventually pulling his long, veiny cock out. 

Since you’ve been dripping pretty much the entire night, you were confident that you could take your boyfriend’s dick for a ride without needing lube. “You want me to bounce on your big cock, Min?” you asked sweetly, rubbing your soaked cunt back and forth across his dick, hearing him let out a small moan instead of a groaning sound. “Hm? Or do you want to fuck me senseless and make me cum all over your friend’s sheets?” 

“Please, ride my dick, baby…” he murmured, starting to whine from your change of pace, feeling your pussy slipping and sliding all over his sensitive spots, the tip beginning to leak pre-cum. “Pleaseeee, I need it so bad. I need it so fucking bad.” 

"Mmm, I suppose you've had enough, Min." You slid yourself to the tip and lifted it up just enough to begin pushing it inside, whimpering from being stretched out so intensely. Lowering yourself inch by inch, you ran your hands up underneath Mingi's shirt, lifting it up to see the defined softness of his pecs, grabbing and squeezing them.

Mingi arched his back slightly, biting and tugging at his lower lip when you finally bottomed out, the both of you moaning in unison. "Ride me, baby. Come on," he whined impatiently, running his hands over yours, guiding them down along his abs, enjoying the way your warm hands felt on his skin.

"Give me a minute," you replied in a strained voice, taking in a few deep breaths, waiting for the low burning sensation to subside.

Mingi lifted his hand up to press against your lower stomach, feeling the hard outline of his cock. "Baby's so full of me. You're such a good girl for taking my cock like this."

Something inside you switched, encouraging you to begin fucking yourself on his length, moaning, "Yeah, I'm a good girl...such a good girl for you, Min..."

"Yeah, you are," he exhaled, grabbing you by your hips and waiting for each moment you dropped yourself down to thrust himself into your tight hole, your breathy, high-pitched moans like music to his ears. "Fuck, I can feel you throbbing. It's so good, isn't it, doll?"

"So fucking good," you agreed, your lower half already starting to feel heavier, the feeling of getting pounded into by something so large and thick sending you into a state of bliss. "You're gonna make me cum soon..."

Suddenly, the door behind you swung open, and three distinct voices could be heard talking amongst themselves. "So, you're telling me your bong is in that mess on the floor?" Yunho questioned, pointing to the floor, trying to ignore what was going on in the middle of the room, the tips of his ears red and burning.

"Yeah, hold on." San walked into his room like it was just another day and stood near the two of you, giving Mingi a high five when he put his hand out. It must've been a regular occurrence with your boyfriend's previous partners. Personally, you were so dick-drunk, you didn't even care that San was studying the way your tits bounced along with your movements.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt, sweetheart," San said, giving you a suggestive smile, before bending over to pick up a few articles of clothing and throwing them to the side, searching for his bong underneath the chaos.

Mingi continued to drill himself into you, his cock throbbing heavily inside you due to being watched by his friends, opting to grab both of your wrists and hold you down, not letting you move at it, forcing you to take everything he was giving you. "Baby likes being watched, huh? Is Baby gonna cum from being a little attention whore?"

"Uh-huhhh..." You kept your eyes locked on his, making small whimpers each time he pounded into you, tears forming inside your eyes from having an audience.

"Goddamn..." San mumbled underneath his breath, already holding his bong inside his hand, but staying still, mesmerized by the way your ass routinely bounced when Mingi’s cock slammed inside of you. Seonghwa and Yunho were in similar situations, leaning on each other and watching the both of you with dilated eyes, wondering how the hell Mingi’s giant cock somehow fit inside your small frame without splitting you open.

"I'm...about to cum, doll." He caressed your cheek, wiping a few escaping tears, before glaring at San. "Get out of here, okay? I didn't mind you watching, but you're not about to see me nut."

Disappointed, San let out a long sigh, making eye contact with you when you glanced over at him with barely open eyes, your orgasm building up inside you at a rapid rate. "Maybe next time I can watch you two cum," he mused, only leaving the room with his friends when Mingi grabbed one of the plushies on the bed and tossed it at San's head.

Mingi, still holding your cheeks, pulled you down on top of him, slotting his lips onto yours, his hips still moving at a feverish, somewhat sloppy pace. "Cumming," he mumbled into your mouth, listening to your many muffled cries, slowly pumping his cum into your abused hole.

You melted against him, your body going completely lax, your cunt pulsing heavily, as your arousal poured out of you and dripped past Mingi's inner thighs, seeping into the comforter beneath. "So good...that was so good..." you slurred, even though you weren't drunk from the alcohol.

"I'm glad Baby likes getting dicked down so much," Mingi mused, his voice low and gravelly, reveling in the post-orgasm bliss, rubbing your back in circles. His hand suddenly went stiff, giving you a concerned look.

You pushed a few wet strands behind your ear, tilting your head to the side. "What's wrong, Min?"

He gave you a small pout, his eyebrows drawn together. "My nose feels kind of stuffy.” 

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FFF: @hwalysm @scuzmunkie @creativechaoticloner @dilucpegg3r @yeosxxx @gemjimin @wonwowzers @sanjoongie @manipulatedstars @k-drizzle 

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© toxicccred, 2023.

#ateez #ateez smut #mingi #mingi x reader #mingi smut #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez x y/n #ateez x you #mingi x you #kpop smut #ateez fanfiction #ateez drabbles #ateez oneshot #kpop fanfic #february filth fest

[mildkleptomaniac]

type one — jj maybank x cameron!reader

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭:  “ Hey! Do you think you could do an imagine where the reader is Sarah’s twin and all the pogues are at a party or on the boat and her blood sugar drops really low (she has type one diabetes) and her pump keeps beeping. She is mid passing out, not feeling good and rafe has her Insulin so little bit of big brother rafe worried about his little sister and JJ and her not being together yet but he was super worried about her (like all of the pogues tbh). Thanks xxxx I really love your writing 🥺 every time you post something it makes my day ”

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: fainting, almost passing out,

𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓'𝒔 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆: my boyfriend is type 1 and i really tried my best remembering everything he has to go through. hope this is accurate enough and y’all enjoy!! we love a sweet brother rafe and caring jj. 

Summer, the season of warmth and light, a time of vitality and Boneyard parties. Air filled with salty atmosphere and the smoke of the bonfire. Teenagers trickled onto the beach, dragging kegs in the sand, chairs, and stereos. Partiers shed layers of clothing to embrace the heat and the warmth of the bodies next to them. 

Y/N savored the Boneyard parties, enjoying her time with friends and her siblings, the drinks, and the people-watching. She fell into a rhythm of dancing with one of her twin’s boyfriend’s friends, JJ. Sarah mentioned JJ occasionally, but Y/N was surprised at how well they clicked. The first time JJ and Y/N met, he gave her a cold shoulder–until she assisted him in winning a Beer Pong game. 

After several drinks and dancing the night away, Y/N began to feel light-headed. JJ kept his hands around her waist as she slowed down, the scenery around her became spinning. Racking through ideas of why she felt like this–she’d forgotten to take her blood sugar before leaving the house. 

The music and the conversations drowned out the sound of her insulin pump beeping loudly, signaling her blood sugar increased dangerously high. She couldn’t seem to focus on anything around her before her pump began vibrating in her pocket. If she wasn’t light-headed enough, the vibration made it worse. 

“I need to sit down,” Y/N muttered, pulling away from JJ’s grasp. His brows furrow, still holding onto her waist before sitting her down on some driftwood. Weaker and weaker, Y/N began fumbling with her pump. Dread coursed through her at the epiphany she ran out of insulin. Her mouth felt parched.

“JJ–Where’s Sarah?” Her voice was weak, as she glanced around the party to find her twin. Sarah and Y/N were never separated for long, before they knew it, Sarah spotted her sister and raced over.

“Hey, what’s going on?” She questioned before the realization of the situation hit her. 

“Her pump keeps beeping and–”

“Sarah, get Rafe–he has the glucagon in his car–” Y/N waved her hand, limply. 

Her twin didn’t need to hear anymore before Sarah and the rest of the Pogues hunt down Rafe Cameron. JJ held Y/N in his arms, stroking her hair as she lay there, hoping to calm her down. He kept small talk, making sure she didn’t actually pass out. On the edge of his seat, he kept looking for his friends or Rafe, hoping they’d come back soon with insulin for Y/N. 

Explicitly, JJ never stated his feelings for the Cameron twin, but the Pogues picked up on it by his constant desire to be within arms reach or asking if she’d be joining them today on whatever adventures they voyaged on. 

If she wasn’t feeling like passing out, she would be embarrassed. Being seen as weak and vulnerable in front of others was deemed to be her worst fear. JJ’s words blurred together as her hearing faded in and out, her vision becoming hazy.

“Come here, Y/N” Rafe spoke, now supporting his younger sister. Despite Y/N and Sarah being twins, Rafe and she had an unspoken bond. The sibling relationship held no jealousy, but empathy for each other’s struggles and relationships with their father. No competition or underlying hatred–something Rafe held against Sarah for being the favorite child. “I got you, let’s get this going for you.”

Rafe fumbled with the device, despite training for this emergency multiple times. JJ watched him kneel down beside his sister, and the hatred between the two disappeared. Rafe never approved of his sisters hanging out with the Pogues, but when it came to Y/N and her diabetes, nothing mattered anymore.

As the insulin started to take effect, Y/N started to feel better. Rafe and JJ sat with her, keeping her company until she became fully conscious again. Rafe held her hand, stroking his thumb over it. Seeing his sister in such a distressed state only made things worse for Rafe–not wanting to get the backlash from their father. Y/N constantly reminded him that her diabetes would never be his fault if something bad happened to her–she made sure Ward knew too. 

 Pope, Kie, and the couple watched over Y/N s well, worried that they would have to call an ambulance. 

"Thanks, Rafe," Y/N said, feeling grateful. "I'm sorry I'm such a burden and killing the mood."

Rafe chuckled. "You're not a burden," he said. "You're my little sister. I'll always be here to take care of you." A side of Rafe Cameron not many people witness. If anything were to happen to his siblings, under his watch, he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. 

The night ended shortly after, Pope offering to drive Y/N home s she could fill her pump with insulin. Accepting his offer, JJ rode in the backseat with the Cameron girl. Her head rested on his shoulder, Pope peeking through the rearview mirror to make sure nothing else went awry. The two helped her inside, not wanting to leave until she made herself comfortable, fixed her pump, and got some light food and water in her. 

“Thank you, Pope,” She wrapped his arms around him. She knew how much he disliked Rafe–just relieved neither JJ nor Pope let their feelings get in the way of her health. Letting go, she faced the blonde. 

Pope waited in the car, allowing the two to talk privately. 

“I was hoping we’d have more time together tonight to dance and talk.” She confessed. JJ laughed, nodding his head. He wished the night didn’t end the way it did as well. 

“Hm, maybe tomorrow we can make up for a lost time–only if you remember to take care of yourself.”

#jj maybank x reader #( jj maybank ) #jj maybank imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank x kook!reader #obx imagines #outer banks imagine #jj maybank x cameron!reader #rafe cameron younger sister #rafe cameron imagine #sarah cameron twin sister

[xoxo-honeyy]

wake-up call

^ he's such a scrumptious dilf, jus' wanna eat him up

summary: you wake up to strange noises coming from the bathroom and decide to go investigate. when you open the door, you find vander in a very compromising position...

warnings: afab reader, unprotected vaginal sex (don't be silly wrap your willy), cuddle fucking, dom!vander, sub!reader, tried very hard not to describe readers looks (implied chubby reader? kind of), somewhat of a size kink? (blink and you'll miss), male masturbation, use of pet names (princess, love), cockwarming, barely proofread, reader walks vander like a dog, smut that ends in fluff. reader is a stressed out mama, porn with little plot, please let me know if I've missed anything!

author's note: so i wanted to write a somno fic with vander but i didn't really know how to go about it so here's this mess that i don't know what to do with! this is also crossposted on ao3 at xoxo_honey!

wc: 1.6k

It had been a long day at work. Fights needed to be broken up, various repairs had to be made, and one of the beer taps broke which made business go a lot slower than usual. All of this caused Vander to come home a lot later than he usually did which put him in a bad mood.

All day while he was at work, Vander couldn't stop thinking about you. your soft touch. The way your plush body slotted perfectly against his. How you curled up against him this morning when he tried to get out of bed. the way your tight cunt wrapped around his cock so perfectly the night before, drowning him in orgasmic bliss. And all day he was trying desperately to force those thoughts away to avoid any awkward boner situations with his customers. but, towards the end of the night, his nasty thoughts came back in full force and flooded his head with a lust-filled haze. 

So when he got home, Vander already had two strikes against him. He was grumpy and sporting a half-hard cock. 

He unlocked the front door and closed it behind him. He quietly crept past the kids' room and made his way into your shared bed where you were snoring softly. 

Today hasn't been much better for you either. It was your day off of work so you decided to take the kids around the undercity and entertain them with the various light shows and firework displays. What a terrible idea. Not only were all of the children extremely giddy to spend the day with you, but they also made pancakes loaded with sugar and syrup to get them extra hyper. 

So, your day consisted of carting four restless, sugar-high kids around the Undercity, but you were also running on little to no sleep thanks to Vander and his outrageous libido.

When it was time to get back to your dingy little apartment, the five of you were exhausted and decided to go to bed early. 

Unlucky for you, a horny and cranky Vander had just laid down right next to you. The neon lights shone in through the moth-eaten curtains of your bedroom and cast a dim glow over your sleeping form, outlining the plump curve of your breasts and highlighting the gorgeous planes of your face. Which really wasn't helping Vanders...situation at all.

Deciding that he needed to relieve himself before getting a good night's sleep, Vander moved to get back up from the comfort of your shared bed and made his way to the bathroom. 

It had been a while since he needed to jerk off. Trying to remember how exactly he used to do it before you came along, his mind started to wander to different pictures of you. Vander could only remember your lips wrapped around the base of his cock while his tip repeatedly hit the back of your throat making you gag and moan around him.

Fuck.

The soft clinking of his belt becoming undone filled the muggy air of the cramped bathroom. Vander moved his pants and boxer down so they hung low on his waist, exposing just enough so his girthy dick was able to spring free from its confines. 

He spit on the palm of his large hand and wrapped it around his shaft, slowly moving it up and down. The rough calluses on his palm only served as a reminder of your soft one stroking his cock, finding different ways to tease him and make him cum. he moved his hand back up his penis and made contact with his leaking tip. His thumb moved back and forth over the slit and more pre-cum spilled down his length.

No longer able to control the noises coming out of his mouth, Vander bit down on a wad of his shirt. But this only helped stifle the sounds to a certain extent.

Down the hall in your bedroom, you were awakened out of your stupor because of strange noises coming from the bathroom. worried that one of the kids was sick, or god forbid, there was an intruder in the house, you decided to get out of bed and go investigate.

As you made your way down the hall, the noises became clearer and they were similar to the noises you heard during previous nights. You immediately knew who was in the bathroom.

You opened the door and found Vander hunched over with his hard cock in his fist, with his balled-up shirt in his mouth. 

Now Vander had three strikes against him. He got caught and was still horny, but his bad mood lessened upon seeing your beautiful face. 

Immediately Vander moved to pull his pants up while fumbling over his words trying to come up with an adequate explanation as to what exactly he was doing. 

You quickly cut him off, "What are you doing?" a slight smirk played at your lips. You knew exactly what he was doing.

"M sorry princess, didn't mean to wake you." He avoided the question.

Stepping closer to him you responded in a soft, sultry, whisper, "That's not what I asked."

Stopping his actions, you took his erect tip into your hands and started stroking him. Repeating the same motions he was doing just moments before. He immediately let out a guttural moan and you stopped your teasing movements. 

You turned your back to him and walked out of the bathroom knowing full well he was hot on your trail. 

The two of you made it into your bed and laid down, but Vander was confused, "What are you doing love?" 

Not responding, you simply pulled down your cotton pajama shorts along with your thin panties with a noticeable damp spot in the center and rolled over so your back was pressed up against his broad chest.

"'M tired Vander." You explained, "Don't feel like doing anything." 

But there was an underlying message that Vander had not yet caught onto.

You gave him a moment to think, and when his eyes brightened, you knew he had figured it out. 

Slowly, Vander moved impossibly closer to you and moved two of his thick fingers to your heat. the digits moved at a tantalizing pace, up and down your folds to work you up for his girthy cock. Your slick was dripping around his fingers and when he pushed one in, it came out soaking.

Letting out a whimper, you started to rut your hips against his hands in hopes to relieve the ache in your core. 

Vander only chuckled and whispered, "All you gotta do is ask princess. I don't know what you want if you don't tell me."

Broken words tumbled from your lips, "Please, wan' your cock."

"Where do you want it? your mouth?" He responded knowing full well exactly where you wanted it.

You couldn't wait anymore, "Want it 'n my pussy."

Deciding that you had enough, Vander finally gave you what you wanted. He slipped his hefty dick into your tight, wet heat. Each time you had sex, it took you a few moments to adjust to the sheer size of him because he was just so big. the two of you sighed a breath of relief, hours of wanting and lust-filled brains had rendered you both into horny teenagers. Vander's large arms wrapped around your waist so he was holding you firm into his body. The embrace pouring love and protectiveness through your very being.

After you had gotten re-used to his impressive girth, Vander started to lightly thrust in and out of your core. His movements were more akin to grinding than thrusting but he was too tired to fully complete his movements. His hand moved down to your red, needy clit and started rubbing tight circles on the bundle of nerves. 

As a small form of punishment, Vander lightly slapped your swollen clit a number of times until tears formed in your eyes. stopping the harsh movement, he started gently tugging at your button until breathy moans fell from your lips. 

The added movement of his fingers combined with his dick repeatedly hitting your cervix, you felt your stomach clenching and your thighs shaking, a sign of your impending orgasm. Letting out a series of high-pitched moans you shoved your face into the pillow and bit down on it. 

Vander's hips faltered and the hand that was tugging at your clit started lightly quivering. He was also close. revived with newfound energy to finish the two of you off, Vander's thrusts became more powerful. The sound of skin slapping reverberated around the room.

Suddenly your mind went blank, the only feeling you were capable of discerning was pleasure as your orgasm rolled over you and took over your entire nervous system.

Sensing that Vander was at the precipice of his imminent orgasm, you decided to help him out by meeting his harsh thrusts by grinding your hips back onto his, overstimulation be damned.

It was all too much for him. The clenching of your cunt, the way you wrapped so perfectly around his cock, the feeling of your soft body safe in his arms. His seed spilled into you filling you up with warm, gooey liquid, the familiar sensation was oddly comforting. 

You removed the pillow case from your teeth and took in lungfuls of the cool night air. Vander massaged your waist and hips to get rid of any potential bruising and whispered into your sweaty skin, "Maybe I should wake you up like that more often."

Laughter bubbled up your throat and reached Vander's ears.

"M extra tired now." You sighed, thinking of all the things you had to get done in the morning.

Vander, already knowing the amount of work you had piled on your desk suggested, "Why don't you take the day off tomorrow? The six of us could have a spa day or something?"

Leaning your head against his sweaty chest you closed your eyes and smiled, "Yeah, I think I'd like that."

hope you guys liked this, i had sm fun writing it! this is also cross-posted on ao3 at xoxo_honey, the link is in my pinned post!

#arcane netflix #arcane #arcane vander #vander arcane #vander smut #arcane fanfic #arcane fic #vander x reader #vander x female reader #vander x reader smut #honey’s anthology #xoxo-honey #arcane smut #arcane x reader #arcane x female reader #honey writes

[finniestoncrane]

Gotta be honest with you, I need to hear every single Digger headcanon you have because they 2 you've shared are just so good.

General Headcanons

KTJL!Boomer Headcanons yippee!!! woohoo!!! someone wants to listen to my bullshit!! i am so happy to write down more of my headcanons by the way, but for anyone wanting any make sure to let me know what you want the 💙 request info • prompt list • send me a request • kofi • masterlist minors DNI!! 🔞 cw: mentions of nsfw things, it's fuckin boomer so of course, there's a whole load of nsfw headcanons and i mention piss because duh

General Headcanons

this is a sort of universal belief i suppose but i do think he lives in his van and i will live and die by my faith. he likes having everything he needs with him at all times. he will spout some bullshit rhetoric about living a "buddhist" existence with few material goods. and he's half right in that he has two pairs of underwear, and a collection of empty (or maybe not completely empty) beer cans rattling around back there

he's passed out twice while getting tattoos and he will yell and scream and argue that it was because his blood sugar was super low and not because he's a total wuss

he smells amazing. not like... good, don't get me wrong i don't think he smells nice. BUT he smells fuckin great. he has a natural deep musk that just hits the receptors nicely, the kind of smell that's laden with all the right pheromones to engage your caveman brain and have you swooning over him

bad habits (which i count as a bonus tbh) include: picking things: ears, skin, nose, anything. drinking to excess and then never learning a single lesson. masking all of his emotions until he's certain you won't make fun of him for having feelings. pretending to hate people that he loves because he can't be seen getting hurt. leaving his clothes lying around and relying on the smell test to get him through the process of getting dressed. kissing you in the morning before he has brushed his teeth. having no concept of personal space: he will steal blankets, he will curl around you in bed, he will sit too close to you on the sofa, he will hang off your body, he will hug you from behind and not let go, he will stand beside you all the time. refusing to take things seriously until he really has no other option. bad temper, and then defusing the situation by kicking something

yes, he has great tits and strong arms, but in my heart of hearts i know his stomach is not flat and in my head he has the sweetest lil beer gut to ever exist. it gets worse once he's just finished eating or drinking, and he cradles it and makes jokes about it being a girl or a boy. and while they might not have added it into the game, they did add in his sweet lovehandles on those hips, and he likes being grabbed by them and pulled into a hug. reminds him that when he's no longer big buff boomer, you'll still be super into his hot body

i think he's 45 years old fuck you. i think youngest he's 40, there's no way he's near me in age. we can consider sun damage to an extent but he has wrinkles, he's a dad, he's got big ol bags under his eyes and a slightly receding hairline

he's competitive, but not in an aggressive way, more in an annoying way. like you play a board game with him, and he'll do everything in his power to distract you, or use the rules against you. and if he loses, he doesn't go in a big strop, maybe a tiny huff with a few whines. who can refuse him a pity win when he's looking up at you all sad with those big green eyes and batting those silly eyelashes?

if there is something about you that he can mercilessly tease you for (without making you cry) he will harp on about it constantly. it's his way of showing that he's comfortable around you, enough that he can make you want to punch him in the throat. he can give but he can't take though, so remember that before you point out that he is in fact ginger, or that his freckles make him look so cutie-patootie, or that his tattoos are kinda dumb

you have to laugh at his jokes and puns, it's a requirement and he'd be tempted to make you sign a contract saying you will adhere to this rule. it gives him a boost, makes him feel proud. plus he is genuinely very funny, and the dorky nature behind his silly jokes is so endearing

Relationship Headcanons

when he falls for someone, he falls first and he falls hard. he also falls pretty easily, and he's no stranger to heartbreak, but he has his terrible coping methods to keep him going

he finds it easy to find something about everyone that he likes, because he's just prone to liking people. he thinks everything and anything is sexy, and he can find your good traits like a pig sniffing out truffles

he regularly brings home gifts for his partner, stolen or otherwise. no one needs to know how you aquired such an expensive piece of jewellery or that really nice original looking bit of art. maybe you just happen to save a lot of money by living in the back of his van with him!!

gifts are just one of the ways he is surprisingly thoughtful for a boy with no thoughts behind his eyes! dates are another thing he's fuckin stellar at!! wherever you're going and whatever you're doing you are guaranteed to have fun, that's just how he is. he makes everything tolerable, and he can turn a shit day into a great one

he's desperate for friendship, far more than he is for anything romantic or sexual, although if the two could go hand in hand that'd be an ideal scenario. he might claim to be chill and looking for a quick root, but he's far more interested in finding a partner who can be his buddy as well as his lover

there's never going to be a moment when he's not touching his partner by the way, like that is just something you are going to have to put up with

hand on your shoulder, hand in your hand, hand on your waist, hand on your thigh, hand on your back, hands around you as he hugs you from behind, hands around you as he hugs you from the front, hands around you as he hugs you from the side, hand on your butt, hand on your chest, hand on your stomach, hand on your cheek. the man has borderline separation anxiety

holding hands is his favourite though, especially when paired with his habit of loudly announcing your status to anyone within earshot. "oh this is my partner!" "yeah i'm their boyfriend!" "i'm fucking that beautiful bit of arse over there, thanks for asking!" like thank you, digger

he's surprisingly emotional, and surprisingly open once you get past his protective exterior layer. he's still always joking around and trying not to take things seriously, but the minute you or he needs some serious feeling time he is down for it

i don't think he would ever choose a sexuality. personally, i feel like he's bisexual or pansexual, but digger would say he's just sexual. he'll go for anything with a pulse who was happy to see him. there's a bit of digger for anyone (or anything...)

he'd be quick to take things to the next level with a partner he really loved. like he comes to pick you up one day in the boomer-van and he's like "tah-dah" and in the bacl there's a plastic storage box duct taped to the wall with your name written on it. this is how he would ask you to move in with him. you might need to get rid of a lot of your posessions but he wouldn't be adverse to you cleaning up the van or making it your own though!! i bet he'd love to have fairylights on the ceiling and some rugs on the floor

NSFW Headcanons

he has a piss kink. i know that is not a thing for most people, but i have evidence backing this up. it's barely a headcanon at this point, it's just straight up fuckin canonical fact lmao!! anyway i don't think it's a goes both ways thing most of the time. he likes to be the one pissing, it's where he refuses to be a switch and will only be the dominant one, usually

speaking of being the dominant one, it's what he's most comfortable with since he's a loud, brash, bold and heroic villainous boy, but he really doesn't mind switching things up. he can be a gentle dom, a bratty sub, and any combination in between. really, he is up for literally any activity or kink or fetish or position you can throw at him

he gets very vocal during sex. he spouts all kind of filth at you, confirming what he's doing, what he wants to do, and what he's going to do to you. his preferred terms are surprisingly gentle though, calling you kitten or pup, princess or prince, love, babe, baby. a combination of them all. aside from that, he is loud. volume is not something he can control when he's deep in the heat of the moment and he is the literal definition of animalistic. he growls while he fucks you, and he howls when he cums, and he has referred to himself as a dingo before...

of course, if you're getting particualrly nasty, or he's in a far more feral mood, he'll be growling low into your ear, calling you a dirty, nasty little cunt while he grabs your body and keeps you close

he's into any kink, sort of believing in trying anything once (or twice... or three times...) but there's a few he just LOVES. ones that if you mention them, you run the risk of having him cumming in his pants or rutting up against your leg like a desperate, badly behaved puppy

obviously, previously mentioned piss kink, but specifically if it involves some level of servitude or worship. like you on your knees holding his cock for him while he goes to the toilet, you offering to lick him clean, or letting him piss on you because you're so beneath him and he's yours to mark and claim. begging for a taste of him or pleading for him to use you gets him going too when you combine it with this

body worship or worship in general gets him going too. he's so desperate to be loved and wanted and adored and needed, so having someone beg for him, tell him they want him, they need his cock, his fingers, his hands, his saliva, his drool, his cum, anything he's willing to give them. top that off by calling him captain and he'll melt into a sticky little puddle

he's also way behind on comfort, so a little bit of gentle love mixed with kink is a great way to help him relax. feed him a tit or a hard cock, let him suck until he's soothed himself. hold him on your lap and stroke his hair while you tell him he's amazing, and so good at everything he does

cowboy digger is reporting for duty at the breeding ranch! get you some horns, a teeny tiny cowprint outfit, a tail and a bell and he'll either milk you dry until you're crying from overstimulation, or he'll ride you until he's pumped every last bit of cum into you, making sure you're ready for him to be the daddy

he'll fuck with the hat on. he's a socks on kinda guy too. he just gets way too into it way too quickly and forgets anything else but rutting and grunting

this could have been soft, if it wasn't george, but he loves when you fall asleep on him, like your head resting on his chest or his stomach or his lap or his shoulder. he'll be sweet, of course, and place a little kiss on the top of your head. but then he will try and sneak a look down your top or at your ass or to see if you have a visible bulge he can ogle

#captain boomerang #digger harkness #george harkness #captain boomerang fanfic #finnie writes #captain boomerang headcanons #suicide squad: kill the justice league

[arlerts-angel]

˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🍭 ꒱ ˎˊ˗ 𝐈'𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐀 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐎𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔.ᐟ

⤷ manjiro sano x fem!reader x ken ryuguji

⤷ a/n: PHEW this one is SPICY 🥵 also, thank y'all for 700 followers 🥺 !! ilysm, thank you for sticking around and reading my filthy mind 🫶 NOT PROOFREAD LOL SKIP TO THE 🍭 FOR SMUT

⤷ taglist: @petitecolibri @kokonoiscoconut @kazutora-kurokawa @i-literally-cant-with-this @sora-michi-reina @blkkizzat

⤷ warnings: 1.3k words | PWP | established relationship | gf sharing | light alcohol consumption | nipple stimulation | oral sex (f+m receiving) | gagging | cum eating | pussy slapping | male masturbation | handjob | creampie | pet names | light degradation | reader is physically ambiguous

"i'm home, doll. i brought— oh, my. don't you look just good enough to eat?" mikey grins as his eyes roam your sugar coated body. he makes a motion outside the door that goes unnoticed by you as he closes it behind him.

"candy lingerie? as if you couldn't get any sweeter..." his voice is low as he speaks in your ear, kissing down your neck and back up to your glossy lips. he cups your ass gently and plants one more kiss on your soft skin.

"good thing i brought kenchin over today, i don't think i can eat all of this by myself..." he purrs.

"mikey!" you exclaim, nudging him playfully.

"what? i'm serious. he's outside right now. what do you say, doll?" he asks, looking at you lovingly.

"...you're really okay with this?" you ask, searching for reassurance.

"of course. you two are my favorite people in the world, and i think you'd look so sexy under him." he grins, walking towards the door. "so yes?"

"mhm." you nod and watch him open the door.

"kenny! come in. sorry about the wait. seems our plans for the evening have changed. heh." mikey welcomes his best friend inside. you've managed to slip on a silky robe for the time being.

"tch. how so?" draken asks, his voice gruff and monotonous.

"care for a beer?" mikey asks offering him a cold bottle, ignoring draken's prior inquiry.

"what the hell." draken agreed and accepts the bottle, popping the lid and taking a sip. "care to tell me what's changed?"

🍭 "how about i show you instead?" mikey replies, taking a sip of his beer as he walks towards you. he pulls the robe off of you slightly, revealing the stringy confectionery bra hardly covering your tits.

"is this some kind of a joke, sano?" draken growls and turns his head away.

"relax, ken. we discussed this before letting you in. it's okay with me, with us." you reassure him softly. he chuckles and takes another sip of his beer.

"no pressure, kenny, but i don't mind sharing her with you. you're my best friend, after all." mikey says coolly, nibbling a piece of the candy off the bra. he slides the rest of your robe off your body, revealing the rest of your body.

draken's eyes roam your chest as mikey shuffles the bra off of you, taking one breast in his hand and the other into his mouth. he sucks on your nipple gently and massages the other between his fingertips. draken palms his cock and groans as you make soft moans.

mikey then guides you to the couch, laying your head down softly onto draken's lap. he looks down at you, his cheeks lightly flushed. "she's a pretty little cocksucker, you know" mikey grins, "let her show you." you bat your eyelashes at draken, silently begging him to whip his cock out while mikey trails kisses and licks between your thighs.

draken takes a deep breath and shuffles his pants down his legs. the hot, leaky head of his cock slaps his torso. you shift closer to him and ask "may i?"

he responds with a gruff "mhm". you plant your pillowy lips on the tip of his cock and play with it. "so, you use your manners with him, huh?" mikey asks, teasing your cunt with his fingers. "looks like i might have some competition." he says, teeth gritted as he plunges two fingers into your pussy. you moan around draken's cock, earning a groan from him. you take more of his cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. "hah– fuck..." he groans, throwing his head back in pleasure.

mikey's mouth quickly latches onto your clit, sucking and flicking your sensitive bud with his tongue as he fucks his fingers in and out of you. your back arches each time they swipe the sweet spot deep in your cunt. the vibrations of your moans on draken's cock make him twitch in your mouth. his large hand comes down onto your head, pushing you further down his length. your throat tightens and you gag, spit dribbling down to his balls. "ah fuck yeah," he breathes, "keep sucking my cock like that."

mikey continues to eat your cunt, rutting his cock against the couch to offer himself some kind of relief. just when you've decided you've had enough choking on draken's massive cock, he starts fucking your mouth in rhythm with mikey's fingers into your cunt. "fuck, i'm gonna cum. gonna take it?" he asks you. "mhm!" you reply (as eagerly as you can with a mouthful of cock). "fuck yeah you are, take it! take it! fuuuuuuck–!" he groans as his cum shoots into your mouth.

you swallow draken's cum while mikey detaches from your cunt. you let out an exasperated groan. "told you she's good, but wait 'til you fuck her!" he grins, moving to the other side of the room to get a good view. draken now hovers above you, playing with your tits as he looks into your eyes. "i want a taste, first." he says before putting your nipple into his mouth. he sucks eagerly and snakes his hand down to your clit, rubbing it slowly. "mmm!" you moan and buck your hips against his hand.

he removes his mouth from your nipple. "nuh-uh. at my pace. understand?" he growls and slaps your cunt lightly.

"ah! yes-!" you wince. he removes his hand and lowers his head down between your legs. mikey fists his cock as he watches draken lick a teasing stripe up your slit. "more! please..." you whine.

"not this time, princess. want you to cum on my cock." he slaps your clit with the tip of his dick a couple of times before lining himself up properly. he pushes past your folds slowly, allowing you to adjust to his length. "oh mikey, you lucky son of a bitch." he chuckles. your cunt is clenched so tight around his cock he's a little scared to move.

mikey's transfixed on your face as draken starts to fuck in and out of you slowly. he strokes himself slowly; in time with draken's thrusts. "more, ken! please... fuck me harder!" you beg.

draken gains the confidence to fuck you harder after your pleading. he slams his hips into yours and watches your tits bounce each time the base of his cock enters you. "somfuckin tight..." he groans.

"you like ken's cock baby?" mikey asks, approaching you. "you sure are taking it like you do."

"mhm! he's so big... you're so big, kenny!" you mewl. draken just nods and huffs in response; too pussy-drunk to use words. mikey then guides your hand to his cock. you jerk him off while he rubs your clit, moaning both of their names.

"getting close, aren't you? i can tell by the way you're whining. you're getting impatient..." he coos into your ear. "you have a voice, you know... a pretty one at that. use it; tell us how badly you want to cum."

your eyes flutter and roll backwards. draken's cock hits your sweet spot perfectly in synch with mikey's lightly-pressured flicks on your sensitive clit. "p-please, i'm so close! wanna cum for you both."

"where do you want my cum, princess?" draken asks breathily as he thrusts faster and harder into you.

"inside me! want you to cum inside me," you moan, "please cum inside me ken!" mikey lets out a deep groan and cums in your hand and all over his cock as you beg to be filled by his best friend. "mmm–! i'm gonna cum–! ken! mikey!!" you cry out as your orgasm washes over you.

"ah fuck–!" draken groans and thrusts one final time before his cock twitches, filling your tight pussy full of his cum.

you collectively catch your breaths. "i can't believe that just happened." draken chuckles, watching your chest rise and fall with each breath you take.

"c'mon, princess. let's go get you washed up. you did so good for us today." mikey praises, then kisses your head gently.

#📝 — mack wrote that #tokyo revengers smut #tokrev smut #manjiro sano smut #mikey smut #manjiro sano x reader smut #mikey x reader smut #ken ryuguji smut #ken ryuguji x reader smut #x reader smut #tokyo revengers x reader smut

[targaryenrealnessdarling]

A Little Bit More

25/12: Promise & Phone Sex - Billy Washington Word Count: 1.6k~ | Warnings: phone sex, dirty talk, masturbation (f and m) A/N: this exists in the Every Little Bit universe!

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

He always knew it was coming around, and yet he always hated it.

Her dad’s birthday was in between Christmas and New Year, that weird time where you don’t know what day it is, never seem to have enough food in and where you’re so disorientated in the post-Christmas haze that it’s like coming down from a sugar high.

It was the few times of year where she went away by herself, wanting to spare Billy from the absolute torture of being around her parents for a few days as she made excuse after excuse as to why they weren’t married yet.

Not that he minded, there was only so much of her mum Billy could take.

He’d seen her off at the train station, her duffel bag looking very much as big as her in the cutest way possible as she skipped off to the platform in her winter overcoat and scarf, the chill nipping at her cheeks.

It was only a few days. It was only a few days. He had to keep reminding himself. 

Billy sighed, tapping the remote control against his knee, only half-watching whatever terrible Friday night tele graced his flat. The pizza box was closed shut on the coffee table, having tried to cheer himself up with a takeaway.

His phone buzzed, and he couldn't help the smile that rose to his face, seeing her name in bright white letters on the face of it.

She'd promised to ring 9 o’clock on the dot, after all.

“Hiya, ya alright?” he answered, his voice sounding perkier already, his muscles relaxing once he heard her voice.

“Hey, you sound happy”, she replied low down the phone, and he could tell she was smiling by the way she said it.

“I am now,” he grinned, “just finished a 12 inch on my own.”

She groaned over the line, “Billy.”

“I'm joking, it's because I've heard your voice again.”

“Better,” she laughed breathily, “what you up to? Other than missing me, of course.”

He sighs, “Being a sad cunt, staying in with a beer watching whatever shite is on Channel 4.”

“Ooh dear,” she says unenthusiastically, “sounds dull, babe.”

Billy hummed in agreement, “What about you? What you up to?”

It was her turn to sigh, “fuck all, really. Mum and Dad went to go and see Mum's mate Jill, you know Jill don't you?”

“Yes, babe.”

“Yeah, well they left at five and are yet to be back. Convinced she's got them tied up in the basement.”

Billy laughed through his nose, “That actually sounds better than what she might actually be doing, chatting their bloody ears off.”

“Poor buggers, eh,” she laughed, “so I'm sat here on my tod.”

“What a shame you've got me to talk to then.”

He could hear her smile, “could be worse. You missing me?”

The alcohol had offered him a kind of confidence, and he sucked his teeth, holding back a grin, “You could say that. Missing something anyway.”

He heard her mischievous tone even over the crackle of the phone.

“Are you now?”

The line went quiet for a while, before a notification buzzed and Billy turned her on loudspeaker for a moment as he pulled his phone from his ear to check.

…has sent an image.

With one flick of his thumb, his jaw dropped, the depths of his gut becoming tight and hot by the picture she'd sent him. It was her figure reflected in a mirror, wearing clearly nothing but a large t-shirt (his, he noted) and pulling the spare fabric to one side to show her curves as well as her pebbled nipples beneath it.

“Jesus..”

She giggled over the phone, “is that a good ‘jesus’?”

“I-fuck, yes…”

Another one arrived, with her pulling up the hem of her shirt over her hips and expanse of her stomach, just beneath the shadow of her breasts.

“Christ, babe, what are you doing to me?”

She hummed, “sorry, you said you were missing me.”

Billy sighed looking at the photos, every now and then closing his eyes to will the feeling of her skin onto his fingertips, the warmth of her, the sounds she'd make for him. 

His breathing grew shallow as he reached into his jeans, wrapping one hand around his length, to softly pump himself, already half-hard since the moment the first picture arrived.

“Are you enjoying them?” she asked, a teasing lilt to her voice.

“Mmhm..” he murmured.

Another few arrived, in various stages. One where the shirt was fully over her breasts, one where she was wearing nothing at all leaning back to show her full naked torso, and one sat on the bed, the lines appearing where her hips met her thighs.

“Oh fuck…”

Over the phone, she could hear the clinking of his belt as he pleasured himself, “are you touching yourself, baby?”

He could only make a sound in confirmation, his throat closing as he fisted himself to the photos of her.

She sighed, as if her touching herself was expelling a deeply rooted desire, her hands sliding between her legs, the other holding the phone to her ear, “Mm…wish you were here…”

“-ffuck-me too, baby-”

His strained voice was enough to coax some slick between her fingers, using it to pleasure herself, laid back on the bed.

“are you on the sofa?...”

He swallowed, breathlessly replying, “yeah..”

“Do you remember before I left…” she started, and the memory nearly made Billy dizzy.

He was sat right where he is right now, legs apart to accommodate her kneeling there. She'd been annoyed that he was playing Xbox, and so, in an effort to make him lose his game, had knelt in front of him, pulled his sweatpants over his hips and eagerly took his length between her lips.

She'd gotten what she wanted. Before long, his controller was long forgotten and instead, his fingers were threaded through her hair, guiding her pace on him.

He can feel his stomach tightening at the memory of the sensation.

“Do you remember, baby?”

“Yes…”

“Hm..” she hummed, over the phone, while in her own bed began to hasten the pace of her self-pleasure.

"If I were there...do you know what I'd do?"

"What..." he breathed, his hold on his phone so tight without realising.

"I'd get up...off my knees...on top of you..." she muses, sighing at the feeling herself beginning to crest, "...maybe tease you a bit..."

"Fuck-no, baby, don't tease me-"

She let out a breathy laugh, "but why not? It's so much fun."

Her hips canted towards her own touch, her eyes fluttering shut as she held the phone loosely as the pressure tightened in her gut.

"What would you do, baby? If I was right there on top of you..."

His voice came strained, every stroke of his length in his fist drawing him close to fulfilment.

"I would - I'd fuckin' pull you down..."

She could tell he was close by the tone of his voice, and she bit back a smile, knowing he was much too far gone to even form a coherent thought.

"I'd let you fuck me...right there...be your little fuck toy..." She mused in a sort of whisper, "...you could cum inside me...as many times as you want, baby..."

Billy's lips parted, not even realising how his movements had become rapid, needy and quick.

"Oh fuck-"

On the other side she was close herself, and then she heard the prompt and pulled the phone away from her ear to see a request to switch to video call. She accepted without thinking and felt her gut twist at what she saw.

His jeans were pushed around his zipper barely, only enough to free his cock as he pumped it quickly. She was entranced as Billy pleasured himself in real time, her face growing warm at the effect she'd clearly had on him.

And then she heard it, a long shuddered whimper of her name, followed by, "Oh baby-"

She felt her thighs tremble as she came, warmth rushing beneath her hips and a tingling sensation rushing from her toes all the way up her spine, as Billy groaned deeply and spilled all over his fingers for her to see.

Her hand has slowed, overstimulation gnawing as she touched herself with Billy's languid thrusts into his hand continuing to pull a deep arousal from her.

Over the video she heard his laboured breaths, gulping for air.

When the video turned off she smiled tiredly and pulled her phone back to her ear, hearing his tired, exhausted voice.

"Jesus fucking Christ," he breathed. She could imagine him, all spent and limp on the sofa, and the thought made her smirk and press her thighs together with want.

"Mm, you're telling me. Do you feel better now?" She asked demurely.

"Fuck you," he teased, "fuck, I can't wait for you to get back..."

She gave a short laugh, "Oh yeah? What you gonna do when I am?"

He was quiet for so long she wondered if he'd heard her, her brows furrowed in confusion, lips parted to ask him if he was still there.

But realistically, on the other end, a wide smile graced his face, his blue eyes all aglimmer with mischief.

And what he said had the power to shut her right up. Excitement made her stomach flip, wondering what version of Billy she seems to have unleashed. Gone was the shy, unconfident Billy she'd found. Her efforts in getting him to...unwind somewhat shocking even her.

"How did you put it, hm?" he laughed, with a smile so bright like he'd just opened a present, "My little fuck toy?"

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