#let's meet again on this Saturday night / Friday morning

[polaroidpascal]

lunch box || joel miller

AO3 || MASTERLIST || FREE PALESTINE

pairing : joel miller x f!reader

summary : joel’s stubbornness has him working at ungodly hours on your saturday morning. you decide to do something nice for him, but of course he would realize your absence in bed, especially so early when you’re supposed to be off…

tags : M-18+, no use of y/n, reader briefly gets picked up and carried, no outbreak, domestic life with joel, sarah and ellie briefly mentioned, joel is mid-to-late-30s, oral (f!receiving), unprotected p in v sex (practice safe ofc!!), joel being big slightly mentioned once, lots of talking and praise (my man cannot shut up), creampie, cum eating (reader teasing joel lol), general sweetness from them both <3

WC : 2.7k

a/n : this is the first fic i've ever written and posted so enjoy !! :)

Ever since you met, you knew that Joel was the one. Talking with him is easy, like your souls have known each other in every lifetime. Being in his presence is safe and comforting. He feels like home. On top of that, after you had been seeing each other for a while and he let you meet Ellie and Sarah, they made you feel so welcome in their family. Life just makes sense with them.

Joel has been a contractor all his life. Even though he can set his own hours, he prefers to start working early so he can be home with his daughters when they finish school. Today — a Saturday — was weird, though. The project he had been working on needed to be rescheduled because of weather, but Joel decided to keep his hours the same. You could tell he didn’t really want to get up so early on a Saturday, but his stubbornness forbade him from changing that. Last night as you drifted to sleep in his arms, knowing he would probably not have time to get lunch tomorrow, you decided you would do something nice for him. 

Sarah and Ellie spent their Friday night away at a friend’s house (which you and Joel definitely took advantage of the night before), and the house is eerily quiet when you stir awake in the wee hours of your Saturday morning. You can feel Joel’s sturdy arms draped over your sides, his entire body pressed against your back as if he’s scared you’ll float away if he doesn’t keep you close. You hear his slow, sleepy breathing in your ear and you know he’s still dead asleep. Carefully, you lift his heavy arms from you and slip out of his grip, kindly replacing yourself with a pillow, and resting his arm back down. 

He stirs to adjust a bit and settles once again. Success.

You head to the kitchen to start a pot of coffee, Joel's life support in a cup, and pull out the things you need to make his lunch. After, you head back to the bedroom to grab a comfy change of clothes. You wait out the brewing with a quick shower hoping it’s less noisy than you think it might be. 

While you shower, Joel stirs awake a little before his alarm. He shuts it off to avoid the noise and turns back over seeking your figure — but you’re gone. Confused and still groggy, he gets up searching for you. He hears the shower running and…

Is that… singing?

He puts his ear up to the door and hears you faintly singing the songs he plays on his guitar for you, trying to be as quiet as you can. His heart swells at your beautiful sound and he almost opens the door to join you, but then the smell of coffee begins to fill his nose. He walks into the kitchen to see the last drips fall into the pot and the ingredients for a hearty sandwich sitting on the counter. Putting two and two together, he nearly tears up realizing your plans and decides to sit to the side and wait for you, not wanting to ruin your surprise.

You throw on your comfy silk pajama shorts and one of Joel’s old band t-shirts that swallow you up and return to the kitchen.

You don’t notice Joel at all.

He watches silently from the dark living room as you pour a glass of coffee for him into his favorite owl mug and glide around the kitchen putting his lunch together. He admires your freshly washed hair, already air drying a little bit, the way his t-shirt, oversized on you, drapes over your curves perfectly, and how you continue quietly humming his songs. A small fire ignites deep inside of him, and as you turn around to pack his food, he rises from his chair.

He silently saunters over stealing two big sips of the coffee you poured for him. You hear the cup clink lightly on the counter and turn around just as his big hands glide over your hips, embracing you from behind. “And here I was thinking I was surprising you,” you tease as his face buries into your neck, his naked torso pressed completely against you.

He chuckles. “You did, angel. I just saw it before you were ready, ‘s all.” He kisses and nips your earlobe and you mewl at the sensation. He trails down to your neck while his hands gently guide your hips back into his, feeling him start to grow through his plaid pajama pants.

“Joel…”, you whisper as you turn around in his embrace to kiss him. You find his hungry lips waiting to invite you in. He tastes deliciously like the coffee you made for him and you hum contentedly at it. Your hands trace his bare sides and chest all the way up to his hair, and you run your fingers through his messy locks.

As if he’s not stiff from sleeping, he hoists you up from the floor carrying you as you straddle him, hands still dancing through his hair, and brings you to the couch. Without breaking your kiss for even just a second, he puts you down laying on top of you as you descend, a comfortable weight that he knows you love to feel. His kiss melts into yours and your lips feel like they become one. He breaks away despite your protesting whine and quietly teases, “You know you didn’t have to get up so early on your day off just ‘cause of me, right? I’d probably have time later to pick somethin’ up,” and his lips fall back to yours, one of his hands coming up to tease your breast.

You moan softly, “Well, with your luck, today would be the one day you wouldn’t find time. Besides, I felt like surprising you.” You smile coyly at him and watch as his pupils grow somehow even bigger at you.

He stares for a second trying to figure out how he got so lucky finding you, and a smile threatens to erupt at the corners of his mouth. “You’re so sweet, you might give me a cavity.”

Your chuckle is cut off by a small gasp as he kisses a line down your neck, his beard ghosting your collarbone. Once he reaches the collar of your — well, his — shirt, he descends lower, sticking his whole head under the shirt that engulfs you. He kisses up your stomach until he reaches your chest, taking one nipple into his mouth and you gasp again. His tongue moves firmly over the growing bud at a quickening pace. “Yes, Joel…” you whimper, then suddenly whine as he bites you, quickly soothing the mark with his tongue.

His free hand rises up to replace his mouth as he moves over to give your other side the same treatment. You pant from both movements happening simultaneously, him drawing out more whimpers and moans from you. You squirm underneath him accidentally grazing his own growing member and he groans, already painfully hard for you. His sounds send a sudden rush of heat straight to your core. He continues at your nipple, one bite in particular causing you to cry out and you could swear you feel his cock twitch against you as he moans in reply, another rush of arousal already flooding within you again.

He kisses a line down your chest, down your stomach, until his hands find the hem of your shorts. Your legs spread making room for his broad frame as he drags your panties and shorts down, seamlessly replacing them with soft yet hungry kisses where they once sat. He tosses them to the side, licking and kissing his way back up your thighs, nipping at the sensitive inner skin.

Joel’s eyes practically look pitch black, his pupils so blown out with lust, when you see him eyeing your throbbing core and he groans.

“Good lord, sweetheart,” is all he can manage as he admires you glistening for him. His eyes trail up your body. He could come just from the sight of you: legs spread eagerly, eyelids heavy, pupils just as blown as his own, desire written on your face in big bold letters…

And you see how desperate he looks for you, but a sly smirk quickly spreads across his face, “Bet you taste even sweeter than you act.”

Unable to control his hunger any longer, he fiercely licks one broad, flattened stroke up your middle, tasting the fruits of his labor. He moans at your taste, sending vibrations over your clit. You let out a cry of pleasure and his hips subconsciously rut into the couch, desperately seeking some relief for himself. His tongue glides through your folds, broad strokes accompanied by tight circles around your clit and the occasional dip inside…

“Fuck, Joel!” you cry as he focuses at your hole, his thumb replacing his tongue at your clit drawing tight, fast circles as his tongue dips in and out of you. “Oh my god… yes, please… feels so…”

He can only moan in response, sending lightning through your body with every sound he makes. “Please… oh, my g-… don’t stop, Joel… I’m so close…”

He can feel your impending release and between gasps for air, he practically begs, “Let it go, angel… that’s it… come all over my face… doin’ so good for me…”

His words send you hurdling over the edge as you come — hard. Your hips drive up into his face, head dipped back, crying out in pleasure. Joel refuses to let one drop go to waste, lapping up your slick like an animal. He licks you through your orgasm until the aftershocks and twitching die down some. Then he rises back up to your face. “Taste so good for me…” he says as he kisses you deep, lips and beard soaked. You moan from his taste; like coffee but with a sweet hint of you mixed in, and he swallows every little sound.

He breaks from your lips, your foreheads touching and lips barely ghosting over each other. “I’m gonna fill you up so good, darling,” he whispers as he reaches down to free his cock from his pajama pants.

“Please…” you beg, eyes lazily gazing into his own. “Fuck me, please.”

He looks deep into your eyes as he rubs up and down your heat, coating himself and he slides in without any problem, going slow when you gasp so your body can adjust to his size. But your body seems to draw him in, swallowing him whole and pulling him into you deeper and deeper. “My god…” he gasps as he feels the lingering spasms of your soft walls choking his cock.

You can only manage to whine in response, your eyes silently begging him to move, and he obeys. He begins slowly moving in and out, already embarrassingly close to his own climax, but he desperately wants to feel you unravel on him. Gradually, he finds his pace, bottoming out inside of you over and over and over. Refusing to break eye contact with you, his free hand dips down seeking your clit as he furiously traces tight, swift, calculated circles round and round.

Your eyes bolt shut at the feeling of him filling you up and teasing your clit. You’re well past the point of forming full sentences, and he can tell. Breathlessly, he tries to coax more from you, “Look so pretty taking my cock, angel… so good… fuck, you feel so good… ‘m not gonna last, sweetheart…” His pace is unpredictable, plowing into you for a few thrusts and then slowing down to a near stop to avoid finishing too early. “Need you — oh, fuck… god, almighty… n-need you to come for me, darling… please…”

As he begs for your release and his hips begin to falter, he finds that spot that only he has ever been able to find within you, rapidly sending you over the edge again. Your walls constrict suffocating his cock. You writhe and whine, almost unable to even make a sound.

He works you through your orgasm, his own rapidly approaching as he watches your eyes roll back from pure bliss. “Yeah, just like that, gorgeous… shit, you’re soaking me… fuck me, dripping everywhere… fuck… Oh my god, I’m—”

He cuts himself off with his own grunting and groaning as he begins to paint your walls with his come. He whines and gasps, bottoming out with every wave of his orgasm until his cock twitches for the last time. He collapses over you, crushing you in the best way with his weight as he tucks his face into your neck. You’re both panting, your chests crashing into each other as you come down from your highs and try to recover.

Joel finally softens enough to pull away without completely overstimulating himself, grunting as he rolls off of you and brings you to your side, spooning you and leaving small, tender kisses on your neck. His hand rests over your waist just as it did when you awoke this morning, and you lay there for a little while your heartbeats return to a normal pace.

You feel his come slowly leak out with his absence but you don’t even care. Being in his embrace washes away any other thought from your brain. All you can care to think about is the strong man clinging to you as he comes back down to Earth, holding you close and never letting go. You’re listening to his breath trying to fill his lungs once more and feeling his raging heartbeat through his chest and against your back. This is your personal heaven. Wishing you could live in this moment forever, you close your eyes and savor the feeling in all its glory.

You feel your body threatening to drift back asleep, but one particularly deep and content sigh from Joel reminds you that he is, in fact, supposed to be leaving for work. Glancing at the clock, you gently remind him of the time, your smile audible as you say, “You have just enough time to clean up and put on your clothes. Good thing your lunch is already packed.”

He gives a breathy chuckle and hesitantly gets up with that classic dad groan he always gives. Even though all he would really like to do is spend the rest of eternity lying right here on this couch in this moment with you, duty calls. He glances between your legs and sees the mess he made. You catch a glimpse of his look, his ferocious blushing visible even in the dimly lit room as he stares quite obviously at your middle. 

Feeling particularly mischievous, you reach down to collect what you can, scooping it up as it coats your fingers. Joel’s mouth drops open in a stupor, watching in disbelief as you bring your fingers up to your mouth and lick your digits clean. You unmistakingly see his breath hitch at the sight and know that if time weren’t the major issue right now, he would pounce on the opportunity for round two.

“Goddamn, angel…” he says shakily, still in utter disbelief. “You drive me fuckin’ crazy. You’re lucky I have a job to go do,” he tells you with a dazed, fucked-out look and tone as he retreats to the bedroom to attempt to get ready for work. You get up and slip into the bathroom to clean yourself up some more before returning to the couch exactly the way he had left you. 

Emerging from your bedroom dressed with lunch in hand, he spots you drifting off back to sleep and walks over to plant a soft kiss on your cheek. Before you completely succumb to the drowsiness, you manage a soft and sweet, “I love you.”

He smiles and bends back down to plant another, longer kiss right to your lips and whispers back, “I love you more.”

He sees you smile at that before he turns for the door and quietly leaves for work, already counting down the minutes of his shift left before he can come back home to you.

#joel miller #joel miller smut #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #tlou #the last of us #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #tlou one shot #joel miller one shot #this is what happens when the mental illness gets WAY too out of hand

[seethesin]

wake up call

pairing: Hazel Callahan x F!Reader

tags/warnings: sexual content, hazel & reader are 18+, established relationship, college au, body worship, teasing, oral over clothing, orgasm denial/edging (18+, mdni)

a/n: i too have caught feelings for my favorite arsonist, hazel callahan 😔 have an uncharacteristically short, smutty fic while i work my thoughts out.

loosely based on this prompt. gif pack/gif credit. enjoy :)

"Baby, it's time to get up."

You're too busy trying to sleep off a migraine to pay attention to Hazel stirring in bed or what she has to say. Even with an eye mask on, any stray refraction of light is enough for a splitting pain to reverberate in your head. You should have drank more water and less tequila last night.

Hindsight was always 20/20.

You and Hazel had met your friends at Mary's, a local gay bar a mile from campus. The bouncers never commented on the fake IDs you thrust in their hands every weekend and barely bothered to check them as they ushered you inside. Your best guess? They'd take every dollar they could get.

It was a small, hole-in-the-wall establishment, but it was fun enough for the group of you to drink, dance, and sing desperately off-key. It was your usual meeting spot on Thursday and Friday nights—sometimes Saturdays if you and Hazel had the strength to get out of bed in the morning—where you all could gossip about your professors and peers. You don't remember much from last night, but you do remember grinding on Hazel after downing three tequila sodas while Isabel bitched about her Econ professor, Mr. Weber.

You were now facing the repercussions of your debaucherous, dehydrated actions.

"Babe," Hazel tries again. Her disembodied voice is farther away now, most likely in the bathroom next door. "You're going to be late for calculus."

Who the fuck convinced you to take Friday classes? Let alone actually attend them?

Oh right. It was Hazel.

At least both of you managed to find off-campus housing at the end of sophomore year. If you had to share a bathroom with an entire floor again, you would have hung yourself with dental floss.

"Professor Hoyt can eat my ass," you grunt, grabbing your pillow and smashing it into your face. The next part of your sentence is so garbled that you can't even understand yourself. You hear Hazel's footsteps reenter your bedroom as the mattress concaves next to you. The pillow is nudged off your face and stray beams of light bury themselves back into your eye mask.

"She better not." Her breath fans against your cheek as you feel her nip playfully at your skin. "That's all mine."

Hazel can't see your exaggerated eye roll, but she feels the grin growing across your face. She mirrors it eagerly, pressing sweet, soft kisses down your cheek. You feel her lips ghost down your jaw before gliding down your neck. You hum quietly, reflexively tilting your head to the side to expose more flesh to her.

Hazel notices and firmly bites at the base of your neck. You moan, caught off guard.

"I can just ask Isabel for the notes after she gets out of Econ." It comes out as a whine as you feel Hazel shift on top of you.

"Mhmm," she mocks, her hands creeping under your nightshirt. Gingerly, she tugs it up and over your head before shoving it towards her side of the bed.

Her hot mouth reconnects with your skin, trailing down your chest, and kissing just over the curve of your breast. Her lips sink lower, enveloping themselves around your nipple as she sucks. Her hands slide up and down your body reverently before resting on your waist. You mewl, rutting your hips forward.

"Haze," you breathe but she ignores you.

Her lips pull away from your breast, kissing across your chest to give short, equal treatment to its twin. Whatever she was trying to do had the opposite effect on you; there was no way you were leaving this apartment when your girlfriend was too busy devouring every inch of your body.

Hazel kisses wetly against your skin as she begins her descent down your abdomen. Suddenly, she halts. Her nose brushes your navel and her mouth hovers just over your loins. She's so close to where you want her and you vocalize your frustration with a growl. Hazel's thumbs hook under the waistband of your underwear as her head sinks lower.

"Use your words," she teases, voice husky as she snaps the elastic band back into your skin.

You whimper, shoving your hips closer to Hazel's face. If you weren't so hungover, you would have clamped your thighs against her cheeks and squeezed. Hazel had a thing for breathplay anyway; she would have loved it.

"Put your mouth on my pussy."

"Yes ma'am."

Immediately, Hazel's hands grope the meat of your ass, tugging you toward her. Her lips kiss against your clothed cunt, her tongue poking out to kitten lick against the fabric of your underwear.

You exhale, squeezing your eyes shut as short, raspy moans push from your throat.

"Fuck yes," you sigh, wriggling your hips to steal more friction from Hazel's tongue. The coil in your stomach begins to tighten as heat radiates from between your legs. Your underwear is soaked from a combination of your slick and Hazel's saliva. You were embarrassed to admit it, but you were already nearing your first climax.

Apparently, Hazel has a sixth sense for impending orgasms because she realizes that too. Without another word, she detaches herself from your body. The bed creaks as she rolls off it. Her footsteps retreat to the other side of the room.

She's gone. You keen.

"Hazel, what the fuck?" Your thighs press together, rubbing feebly to try and salvage a lick of your previous pleasure. It's useless and you give up with a petulant huff.

The brunette chuckles from a distance, the sound growing louder as she returns to the bedroom. You rip your eye mask off, squinting for a full-fledged minute as your pupils adjust to the sunlight. After blinking feverishly, you stare at Hazel, now leaning into the doorway. A sheen of spittle and slick glows from her chin.

"You're up," she states obviously, her arms crossed over her chest. The way they press into her tits makes your mouth water.

"I've been up!"

She snickers.

"Good. Now you won't be late to calculus anymore."

#bottoms 2023 #bottoms movie #hazel callahan #hazel callahan x reader #lesbian #lgbtq #wlw #smut #fanfic #fanfiction

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 7 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley goes on his second date with Amanda. She's beautiful, sweet, and so into him. But you're on his mind like always and he needs to do something to finally get you out of his head and out of his system. He has an all too willing participant.

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4600 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

On Saturday evening, Bradley was getting ready for his second date with Amanda. He had been steadily beating himself up since you left on Friday morning. He could tell you were upset with him. Honestly, he was upset with himself. Kissing you while he was drunk had been bad. Seriously some college fuckboy shit. Probably worse than the guys your own age, because he should know better. Because he was so much older than you. 

And then he had kept you here all night, basically hijacking you when he should have sent you home. Instead, he had taken you to his bed. 

But now, the joke was on him, because his entire fucking room smelled like you. When he had tried to fall asleep on Friday night, his pillow smelled like a field of wildflowers. And then all he could picture were your glossy lips, pouting with a bright red Skittle perched between them. 

His dick was rock hard after that, and it had been almost painful how badly he needed to masturbate to the thought of you at midnight, his face buried in his pillow.

But that was yesterday. Now he was fresh out of the shower, where he had masturbated again, this time thinking about you in those cutoff denim shorts you had. At least now he was considerably less wound up as he let Noah play on his bed while he picked out something to wear to this film festival with Amanda. 

Amanda. Yes. Now she seemed like a safe bet. She checked off all of his boxes, and she was definitely giving off the vibe that she was into him. She had even been the one to initiate plans for the second date. 

"Should daddy wear this on his date tonight?" he asked Noah who was playing with some stuffed animals. He held up jeans and another Hawaiian print shirt. 

"For the babysitter?" he asked, perking up. 

Bradley swallowed hard. He wished. "No, bub. You get to hang out with your babysitter. I'm going to watch some movies with another woman."

Noah turned back to his stuffed panda and said, "Stay home and play with us. And eat ants on logs."

Bradley dropped the clothing onto his bed and ran his hands over his face. He stood there in his underwear for a minute, taking deep breaths. 

"Noah, I'm going out with this lady so that hopefully you can meet her one day, okay?"

He listened to his son mispronounce your name. "I thought she was your favorite."

Bradley groaned, yanking on his jeans. "She is, bub. That's the problem."

He heard you let yourself in and call out his name.

"Bradley? Noah? I'm here."

Noah slid off the bed and ran out of the room as soon as he heard your voice. Bradley also felt like running into the living room to give you a hug. Instead he finished getting dressed and ran his fingers through his hair to make it look better. But when he made his way to the living room and spotted you holding Noah, wearing those cutoff shorts and a tank top, Bradley thought maybe he should have jerked off again. 

"Hi," you whispered to him, trying to keep your expression neutral. Bradley wasn't sure if you were still upset with him because he had kissed you, but he did promise not to let it happen again. He would also wake you up if you ever dozed off on the couch again. 

"Princess." The name was out of his mouth before he could take it back, and he watched your expression change. Now you looked pleased with yourself as you set Noah down. 

"You look nice," you told him. "For your second date."

He laughed. "Yeah, I guess I have you to thank for that, since you fixed my app for me."

Bradley watched your face fall a little bit. "That must be it," you agreed. "Where are you going?" you asked as you pulled some coloring books out of your bag and held them out for Noah. 

"A film festival. In Balboa Park," Bradley replied. He watched Noah select the dog themed book and plop down right on the living room floor with it. 

You ruffled Noah's hair and handed him a box of crayons, and Bradley was once again aching for you.

"A film festival? Sounds right up your alley," you told him. You chewed on your lip for a beat before you added, "Maybe you should take your pajama pants and some popcorn."

Bradley could picture cuddling with you and feeding you popcorn in this room so easily, he needed to close his eyes and take a deep breath. 

"Nah, I'd miss my own couch too much," he promised you. 

"Ah, I see. Maybe for your third date then? You might need your couch?"

No.

He thought it so quickly. Almost said it out loud. Because he honestly could not picture bringing Amanda here after a third date.

Instead he said, "We'll see."

You nodded before you sat on the floor next to Noah. "Well, have fun."

Bradley cleared his throat. "If the two of you need your crowns, Noah's is on his dresser. And yours is on my bedpost."

Your eyes popped up to meet his, and your lips parted. He had hung it there again after you moved it before you left for your class yesterday. It was where it belonged.

"Thanks," you whispered. 

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

As soon as Bradley left, you could feel your body sagging. You watched Noah color while you took a minute to catch your breath. A second date wasn't the most serious thing in the world, but you needed to get over him now. Before it got any worse. Because even if not with Amanda, there would eventually be a third date, and a fourth, and a sleepover, and a relationship. 

You felt sick now. 

"Can you color that dog green?" Noah asked, looking at you with his sweet face and handing you a crayon. "What's wrong?" he asked, climbing into your lap and mispronouncing your name.

"Nothing is wrong, Noah. I get to color with you and make you dinner."

He settled back onto the floor and said, "I wanted daddy to stay here tonight."

You sighed. "That would have been nice." You wondered what this woman looked like. She must have been pretty. Most of the women you saw messaging had pretty profile photos. They all looked like real adults, too. Women who had established careers, and maybe kids of their own. The kind of woman Bradley was looking for. 

"Are you hungry?" you asked Noah. "Want me to make you some spaghetti?"

You tried your best not to let your thoughts stray to Bradley, but when you opened the refrigerator to get some milk out for Noah, you saw that Bradley had purchased two more bottles of the French vanilla coffee creamer. You knew he must have preferred hazelnut, but he seemed to have switched to your favorite flavor. 

You slammed the door shut hard enough that Noah jumped in his seat. "Sorry," you whispered, kissing the top of his head and pouring him some milk. "Okay, time for spaghetti."

Apparently Bradley liked you well enough to keep you coming back to babysit, but not enough that he would kiss you again when he wasn't drunk and rambling about how pretty he thought you were. 

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

Amanda was snuggled up against Bradley on the picnic blanket she had brought. He was already sitting awkwardly as it was, and now his back was starting to hurt as she was pressing her body along his arm. He could feel her breasts rubbing against his bicep, and he wasn't sure what he should do about it. 

"Mind if I lay back?" he asked, feeling like this date was not going as well as dinner had two nights ago.

"Sounds good," Amanda practically purred, planting her palm against his chest and pushing Bradley back. When he propped his arm behind his head, he was still able to see the gigantic screen that had been set up in the park, but soon Amanda was laying on his chest, blocking the view.

"Oh, okay," he whispered, and she smiled, resting her chin on his chest.

"I mean, we weren't really watching it anyway, right?" Amanda asked, and a really adorable smile lit up her face as she licked her lips. She was pretty. And now she was scooting up along his body, her dress pulling a bit, exposing more of the tops of her breasts. 

Bradley swallowed hard, and then her lips were on his. She pushed her fingers into his hair, but it kind of tickled more than anything, and Bradley was barely returning the kiss. It wasn't bad, but he also had no problem keeping both hands tucked underneath his head. 

Amanda moaned softly, and he supposed it would have been enough to get him going, but now he was thinking about how his bed still smelled like you. When he tried to go to sleep later, he was probably going to get hard again. Harder than Amanda would be able to get him with her mouth on him. 

Bradley pulled back a tiny bit, and thankfully his phone vibrated in his pocket. "Gotta check that, sorry," he muttered, unlocking his phone to see that you had sent him an image. He opened it with a pounding heart and clumsy fingers, revealing a photo of Noah in his crown, writing DADDY on a sheet of yellow construction paper. 

Bradley just wanted to be at home. 

"Everything okay?" Amanda asked, sounding a little impatient.  

"Uh, yeah. One second," he mumbled, sending you a text back.

Are you wearing your crown too?

Almost instantly you wrote back to him, and Bradley was excited to see another photo of you in your crown. But he didn't get one.

Babysitter: No. I'm not feeling like much of a princess tonight. Enjoy your date.

Bradley sat up again, not sure why that bothered him so much. 

"What's wrong?" Amanda asked. 

"Nothing," he insisted, and then she was touching him again, her lips gliding along his neck. 

"Good," she whispered, running her hand along his arm and lacing her fingers with his. And then thankfully the credits started rolling, and everyone on the neighboring blankets started to stand up. 

"Movie's over," Bradley said like a straight up dunce, getting to his feet and pulling Amanda up as well. He checked his phone again. It was almost 10:30 and you hadn't said anything else to him. 

"Oh, well, it's early. How about we go get dessert or coffee?" Amanda asked, insisting on keeping her fingers linked with his. "Or.... I could show you my place?"

Bradley just grunted. "I need to get back to my babysitter."

"Right," Amanda replied. "Walk me to my car?"

Bradley nodded, and managed to get her in her car only after she kissed him and rubbed herself against the front of his body. She moaned into his mouth, and Bradley honestly didn't know what the fuck was wrong with him. She was perfect, and she was clearly keen on fucking him. 

He broke away, and when he was about to tell her good night, she said, "Call me and we can set up another date." But he just nodded and started to head for his Bronco. 

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

After you gave Noah a bath and got him changed into pajamas, you and he shared a snack. 

"Can you teach my dad how to make the ants on the logs?" he asked as you carried him to his bed.

You chuckled. "I can try, Noah, but I don't know if he could even handle doing that much in the kitchen."

Noah sighed and snuggled in with his stuffed animals. "The food is better with you here," he said with a yawn, and you rubbed his back until he was sleeping. 

Then you went about your routine of picking up toys, cleaning the kitchen, and getting some food prepared for the boys. Because even if it broke your heart to know that Bradley didn't want you, there was just no way you could leave him and Noah hanging. You started by making more carrot sticks for them, and then you moved on to a few dinners before curling up on the couch with your textbooks and some Skittles. 

Bradley's date must have been going well. It was pretty late, and you were trying not to think about it. You had clinicals coming up, and you needed to study. You made it about thirty minutes into your reading by the time you thought you heard Bradley pulling into the driveway. And when he rushed inside you looked up at him, just as you popped an orange Skittle into your mouth. 

"Princess," he muttered, smiling softly at you. 

"Bradley."

"Why aren't you wearing your crown?" he asked, closing the door behind him, but never taking his eyes off you.

You laughed, popping two yellow Skittles between your lips as you closed up your book and put it in your bag. "Why aren't you still on your date?"

"I asked you first," he insisted, and you rolled your eyes. 

"I just felt more like a peasant than a princess. That's all. Now, why are you home already?"

Bradley's brow was scrunched as he sat down right in the middle of the couch, his leg rubbing yours as you immediately stood. He looked up at you, saying, "I'm not really sure." He eyed you up and down where you stood in front of him, like you were on display for his eyes only. "And you're no peasant."

His gaze was making you feel warm as you ate the last Skittle and dropped the wrapper into your bag. "I guess you're the peasant. No Skittles for you tonight," you told him. But he just responded by licking his lips. 

"I don't deserve any," he told you, and you watched his huge hands as they slowly rubbed up and down his thighs. You thought about climbing in his lap, kissing him and letting him get a taste of the candy after all. 

Instead you told him, "You'll let me know when you're going on your third date, and I'll come over to stay with Noah." And then you hoisted your bag up higher on your shoulder. 

"I don't think there's going to be a third date," he told you, his voice so deep now, it reminded you of when you heard him in the kitchen early yesterday morning. 

"Oh." You weren't sure what to think about that. You'd psyched yourself up all night long, gotten used to the fact that this Amanda woman was going to be getting to sleep in his bed with him, unlike you. And now, maybe that wasn't actually the case. "What's the problem? She tell you she hates salad dressing?"

He shook his head. "Worse. She was pretty and nice and funny, but I didn't want to touch her."

"That's a shame," you whispered, remembering exactly how his hands and his kisses felt. "Well. You know how to reach me." Bradley was staring at your lips as you turned to leave, and you pulled the door closed behind you without another glance at him. 

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

Bradley was about to beg you to stay. You were the same, still funny, witty and sharp as a tack, but he could tell you were irritated with him. He wanted to get you back to joking around in the kitchen with him. He wanted to kiss you again, push you up against his furniture. While he was sober, so you knew he meant it. 

But you were turning to leave, and he wasn't sure when you'd be back, because he didn't have any more dates planned. And he couldn't make himself want Amanda, no matter how hard he tried. 

Just as he was about to suggest you stay and have a beer with him, you were turning to leave without gracing him with another glimpse of your pretty face.

"Fuck," he groaned as the door closed behind you. "You fucking idiot," he growled, picturing those Skittles brushing against your lips before you crunched on them. He rubbed his hand along his dick through his jeans. He was hard and getting harder now, and that's when he caught sight of your hoodie on the couch next to him.

Bradley grabbed it and buried his face in it, inhaling the wildflower smell and stroking himself again. "Princess," he grunted, running his nose along the fabric. "Oh, fuck."

He unbuttoned his jeans and eased the zipper down, knowing there was only one way he was going to get a little bit of relief, short of enjoying your body right now. With one more deep inhale, Bradley let his hand glide down his abs, ready to pull his jeans down. He groaned your name this time. And then the front door opened again.

"I forgot my hoodie- Oh!" you gasped, eyes wide as you took in the sight before you. Bradley had his hand close to his cock, and your shirt was balled up in his fist, near his nose.

He was hoping you'd just turn around and leave again, pretend you didn't see any of this. He was completely mortified as he dropped your hoodie to try to cover his open zipper and his underwear from your view. At least he hadn't pulled himself out yet.

But instead of leaving, you pushed the door closed, with you firmly inside his house. You took a delicate step toward him, nibbling on your lip with your eyes trained on his. 

"Were you saying my name?" you asked softly, taking another step in his direction. He was so mesmerized by your body, with your bare legs on display, he started nodding before he could stop himself. 

"Yeah, Princess," he groaned, and he knew his cheeks must be bright red.

He watched you reach up and touch your neck. "Shouldn't you be moaning Amanda's name?" you whispered, and Bradley was treated to the sight of you pressing your fingertips to your lips. 

He just shook his head, and now you were standing right in front of him, so close he could touch you. You knew now. He was certain you knew exactly what you were doing to him. There was no turning back. 

"No, Princess. Amanda doesn't make me hard like you do."

"You were thinking about me?"

Bradley nodded. "That's the problem. I can't stop thinking about you." He couldn't believe he said that. He was going to die of mortification. 

But you whimpered, and Bradley was bucking up against nothing as your eyes dropped to his barely concealed erection. 

You bent at the waist, resting both of your palms on his knees, and Bradley was treated to a nice view down your shirt. You licked your lips, and he was about to lean forward and kiss you as you said, "I can help you with that. If you want."

Then you slowly pulled your hoodie off of his lap and glanced down. Bradley's cock was hard and huge, aching as you were touching him now. Before he could answer, he watched you sink down to your knees and settle in between his splayed legs. You were rubbing his thighs through his jeans, and his heart was pounding so hard, he thought he might pass out. 

Your voice was so soft and sweet. "Do you want me to?"

The only thing Bradley wanted was for you to take care of this for him. For him to be able to feel your hands on his body. He groaned as you ran your fingers up and over his cock, squeezing him through his jeans. 

"Oh, yeah, Princess. Please."

And then you were guiding his jeans and underwear down until he was springing to attention, finally free from the tight fabric. 

Your glossy lips were parted, and your eyes were wide as you reached for him, wrapping one hand gently around his length. You stroked him once, and Bradley almost shot up off the couch, it felt so good. 

Then you kissed his tip, swiping his precum away with your tongue, and Bradley was leaning forward and tipping your chin up to meet his eyes. 

"Princess," he groaned, running his thumb along your lips. "You done this before?" He wanted you so badly, but he couldn't stand the thought of this being your first foray into oral sex. He was simply too far gone for something so delicate. 

You parted your lips and licked his thumb with a smirk. "Yeah. Once or twice, Bradley." Your tone was sarcastic, and he throbbed in your hand. "I am in college, you know. I'll take excellent care of you, I promise," you whispered, kissing his tip again while you kept eye contact with him.

"Yeah," he grunted. "That's what I'm afraid of." He stroked your cheek, watching your every move intently. When your perfect lips parted and wrapped around his cock, Bradley ran both of his hands through his hair before fisting them at his sides. You were barely sucking on him, just the tip, but it felt so fucking good he was already panting. 

When your tongue popped out to swirl around him, he tipped his head back and groaned. "Princess," he hissed, his cock leaping in your hand as you let your thumb trail down his full length to his balls. "Goddamn it."

He watched you smirk and open your mouth wider, taking as much of him as you could. You bobbed on his length, pushing him deep enough that you were starting to gag. And that was it; Bradley's hands flew to your face, stroking your cheeks softly with his fingers before pushing back along your hair.

You watched his face as you hollowed out your cheeks and sucked harder. "Oh, fuck," he growled, neck and shoulders straining against the urge to fuck your face until he came. He didn't want to do that, not right now, because this slow agony you were putting him through was fucking fantastic. 

When you slowly dragged your lips back to his tip and popped him out of your mouth, Bradley was treated to the sight of your wide eyes and your tongue peeking out to wet your lips. You looked so fucking innocent. So young. So filthy with your tongue laving along the underside of his cock, keeping him nice and wet. 

Then you moaned softly, and Bradley hissed your name. 

You eyes met his with a soft, hazy look as you ran the tip of your nose down to his balls. "God, you're so big," you whispered, kissing him there. "Are all Daddys this big?" you asked him. 

Bradley pulled gently on your hair, tipping your head back to look at him, keeping you steady with his other hand on your neck. The softest sound escaped your parted lips as he leaned forward a bit. "Call me Daddy again."

Your lip trembled as you nodded with Bradley's hand tight around a fistful of your hair. "Okay. Daddy."

His primal moan filled the living room, as he watched you rub your cheek against the angry, red head of his cock. 

Then your perfect lips were on him again, your tongue treating him to sensations he couldn't ever remember feeling. He tried to keep his hands gentle on your face and hair, but you felt too good. He found himself guiding you a little slower, needing to make this last as long as physically possible.

You took him until you gagged again, and Bradley was seeing stars. "You're so fucking good, Princess," he groaned, but that just seemed to egg you on as you went harder. Bradley watched you take him impossibly deeper, feeling the rub of your throat along his tip. He could feel himself moving against your throat where his hand was now gripping you, and he just gaped at you, mouth hanging wide open as you licked and sucked. 

When you released him again, you used both hands to stroke him as you kissed the tip. "Do you like this, Daddy?"

Bradley's eyes were practically rolling back in his head. "Oh yeah," he grunted, thrusting up into your palm as you tickled and squeezed his balls in one small hand. 

"Do you want to cum in my mouth?" you asked him, eyes glittering as you kitten licked along his cock. He was throbbing in time with your little licks and kisses, and he leaned forward to kiss your forehead. 

"God, baby. So bad," he grunted, pushing you down gently with his palm on the back of your head. He saw you grin and heard you giggle, and he couldn't get enough. When you parted your lips for him, you guided him toward your plush tongue, tapping him against you there. Then you wrapped your mouth around him once more, and Bradley knew he wasn't going to last long. 

The obscene, wet sounds. Your soft moans. The vibrations along his dick. You were bobbing hard and fast now as he chanted Princess.... Princess!

You took him so deep, he could feel your lip and you saliva on his tightening balls as you sucked him hard. He knew his fingers were digging into your scalp, and you were squeezing his hip now. When your gaze met his, Bradley really felt his control slipping. 

"No, no, no," he whispered, wanting this to last forever. It was so good. You were too good at this. And he would be lying to himself if he said your pretty, innocent looking face wasn't making him even harder for you. 

You must have been able to tell he was close when you wrapped one hand around the base of him. You swirled your tongue while you jerked your mouth around him with such finesse, Bradley couldn't believe you were only twenty four. "So fucking good," he groaned. "God damn it!"

And then you took him like a champ, all of his thrusts hit the back of your throat, but you barely flinched, keeping your gaze on his. Your eyes were watering now, and you whimpered as he filled your mouth and throat up with his hot cum. 

It had been so long since he had been with a woman, but he didn't think he'd ever had an orgasm that lasted this long. He was still groaning, fingers gentle at the back of your head as you swallowed him down. Then you came back for more, slowly gliding your mouth back down his length before popping him out again. 

He whispered, "Princess. Fuck," as he watched you lick up the additional beads of cum that you coaxed out of him. And then Bradley was spent, sitting back against the couch in a daze. He stroked his fingers along your cheek and chin, caressing you as you continued to lovingly kiss and lick his cock as he started to grow soft in your hands. 

"You okay, Daddy?" you asked him, wiping up some of his cum from the corner of your lips.

"Princess," he whispered as you nuzzled against his hand. "You learned a lot in college, huh?"

You just giggled, and reached your finger out to his lips. Bradley opened his mouth for you, and licked up his own cum, loving the look in your half lidded eyes. He watched you lick your finger after he was done with it, and then you stood up. He thought about asking you to stay with him, but instead he just sat there with his cock hanging out and watched you pull on your hoodie. 

"Let me know when you need me again," you told him with a smirk before leaning down and kissing his forehead. Then you left again without another word. 

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

Bradley got his dick wet with the babysitter. Bye, Amanda. Enjoy your babysitter fic @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 8

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[carolmunson]

let's go, don't wait: part II (e.m. x f!reader)

inspired by this prompt by @edsforehead - it's not exactly the same but i did my best! series masterlist summary: modern!eddie's been single since 2020 and aside from getting his dick wet after weekend shows at the hideout, he hasn't been going out of his way for love until his friends make him. cw: 18+ for adult themes. alcohol use, swearing, phone sex, smut, oral (f receiving). some sad childhood talk, all around this is a fluff piece so nothing too bad. (19K words.)

With how easy the first date had been to make, Eddie wasn’t expecting it to be so hard to pin you down for the next one. Neither of your schedules had lined up for the rest of the week, and up until next Friday neither of you had much free time. You either had to stay at work late or he had to stay late for the three extracurriculars he was running (jazz club, D&D club, and co-runner of the school’s GSA) – which he’d only be annoyed about running if he didn’t absolutely love the kids. The extra overtime didn’t hurt either, perks of working at a rich kid private arts school.

At first he was nervous you were busy going on dates with other guys until he called you one night and he could hear your boss in the background waxing poetic about the shift to lab grown sapphires. Then he’d feel bad for feeling so accusatory to start – you’d never said anything to each other about being exclusive. Hell, you’d only been on one date. But you talked every day, and fuck did that feel good for Eddie. 

g’morning pretty  ew you’re obsessed with me. good morning, boy

He’s happy he knows you’re joking because he’s certain no other guy would get it. He knows you read his text and screamed into your pillow, cheeks hot and chest thrumming. That’s why you always have to respond so mean so that he doesn’t know how much you like him back. This backfires, because he can tell that the meaner you are, the more you like his attention.

what’s your weekend look like? i know you leave for AZ on sunday but i’d really like to see you before you go. 

You were headed to a gem trade show in Tucson on Sunday for a few days. You went every year you’d been working for your boss, you told him all about it on the phone. You’re cute when you’re excited but he didn’t want to embarrass you by saying so – just let you rattle on about all the things you get to see. You promised to send him pictures of some of the cool fossils you might come across, all of the big crystal furniture.  “You were a weird dinosaurs kind of kid, right? You’d be into pictures of fossils?" “Why are you so mean? Would you go up to nine year old me and call him a weird kid that’s into dinosaurs?” “No, he’d be so sad.” “So next time you wanna say some mean shit, imagine you’re saying it to nine year old me.” “I bet you were a cute kid,” you thought out loud, “You’re a really cute adult.” 

“You think I’m cute?” “The cutest.” His face burned at every compliment you offered him, flushing dark pink at every sweet word you said. He was a mess. Embarrassment would flood him when he’d check his phone during class, the kids would never let him hear the end of it.  “Did you meet her on Tinder, Mr. E?”  “This is not appropriate class discussion guys,” his eyes would shut tight in frustration when they’d catch him texting you back and he’d reluctantly tuck his phone into his back pocket. They were way bolder than he was at their age. “No because like, you’re so happy though. Look how you’re smiling when you text her.” “Mr. Munson’s got that W rizz.”  “Is she hot?” “Be fucking forreal. He’s blushing so hard right now.” “Smash or pass, Munson?” “Guys, can you relax? You literally have a test right now." Bzz. Bzz.

i gotta run errands on saturday and go then leave sunday night :( working late friday cause we need to take gem inventory essentially He sighed, he didn’t want to wait until next Friday to see you again. 

i could run errands with you if you’ll have me. i’ll drive! you sure? it’s not super exciting stuff. you make it exciting. :) i’ll take you out to lunch. sound good? okay :) okay :)  see you saturday, cutie omg shut up 🙄 but yeah. see you saturday. :) 

He was nervous you’d notice he got his interior detailed the night before, but he was too embarrassed to let you get into the car in its original glory. He honked the horn in three short bursts, being mindful of the neighbors even though it was around 9:30 in the morning.  You inch out of the door of your place, the first floor of a quaint three family home, in your Princess Diana best. You dressed for errands and his heart swells, leggings and a big sweatshirt, little white sneakers and socks. You look cute like this, hurrying outside with your paper Old Navy bag blowing in the wind, relaxed and laid back. But you aren’t for long, you take a step outside only to feel the chill in the ‘second winter’ air of March and raise a finger to him before running back inside — reappearing with a lightweight parka haphazardly thrown on. You patter to the car and he tries to ignore his heart rate speeding up while he leans over to open it for you. “Hey you,” he smiles, “Good morning.”  “Morning,” you say with a coy smile. His chest leans forward slightly to kiss you as you settle in but he stops short. Are you there yet? You only kissed that night last week. What if you weren’t ready to kiss again? He swallows, settling back into his seat but recognizing how his car fills with your scent. You smell so fucking good he could eat you.  “So what’s the agenda, sugar?” he asks.   “Okay, agenda: Target, Old Navy for a return,” you say, raising your bag, “I have to run into Sephora to pick up some sunscreen for my boss, and um…I think that’s it? They’re all in the same shopping center over by um – by the movie theater.”  “Oh yeah,” he nods, “I know the one.”  He reaches for the sound system, turning the volume up a little, Lamb of God’s Vanishing crunching through his speakers. He watches for your reaction and can tell you don’t know it, but you don’t seem appalled or repulsed.  “Do you have a tunes preference?” he asks, voice velvety smooth, eyes catching on your parted lips, “It’s a long drive.”  “Uh…” your knee bounces faster, “I mean it’s your car. We should listen to what you wanna listen to.”  “Honey, I’m like your Uber driver today,” he offers, head tilting while he looks over at you. Eddie’s gaze lingers on your face with soft eyes, lashes a shadow over his irises, “How’m I gonna get a five star review if you don’t like the music?” 

“I do!” you assure aggressively, “I do like it.”

“Here, I have a plan,” he nods, holding his hand out, “Gimme your phone.” 

You toss him a look which triggers an eye roll from him, “Just trust me, give me your phone.” 

“Here’s the bargain, I connect your tunes to my car,” he mumbles while he disconnects his phone from the car’s Bluetooth and connects yours instead, “But I get to pick the songs. Deal?” 

A giggle bubbles out of you, shoulders shaking loosely, “That’s ridiculous.” 

“But is it a deal?” he asks again. He takes a breath that inflates his chest, while you consider it. It’s not fair that you look so cute this morning, it’s not fair that he doesn’t have the confidence to just reach over and lay one on you like they do in the movies. He wasn’t lying when he said you were so kissable. 

“It’s a deal,” you nod. He watches your knee slow down to stopping. Eddie swallows, eyes traveling from your knees to your full thighs sitting fat in his passenger's seat with a quick scan that you don’t notice. 

“Okay, so let’s see…” he mutters, going into your music and scrolling through your artists, landing pretty early on with an enthusiastic nod that makes his waves bounce around his face. 

“Blood Brothers?” he asks, “Wow, you really did hate your dad, huh? I haven’t heard this album in years.”

“I started liking them for a boy back in high school,” you shrugged while he thumbed through the tracks, “Then started liking them forreal.” “That’s okay,” he smiles over at you, “You’d be surprised to see my Spotify wrapped every year. Never as mean and scary as you’d expect.” 

“No?” your brows raise, “Not a bunch of ‘Stabby Metal Scream Crunch Stab’ in your top ten?” 

He scoffs, settling on ‘Set Fire to the Face on Fire’, the opening Fire! Fire! Fire! leaking through the speakers, “I married the head cheerleader at my high school – I’d like to think my music taste is pretty eclectic. Metal’s just, y’know, the main course. Plenty of side dishes on my roster.” 

“You a big fan of having something on the side?” you quirk a brow at him through the rear view mirror while he puts the car in drive. He scoffs again, lips twitching up into a smirk. You’re quick and it makes his blood rush, his fingers drum nervously on the wheel while he keeps the car in place.

“Why’re you so mean, huh?” he teases, “Do I look like the kind of guy that’s had a lot of side pieces?” 

“Oh,” you start, giving him a once over, “Not even close.” 

“You’re here with me, aren’t you?” he asks, putting the car in park again. He turns down the volume, turning his body completely towards you. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” you drone, turning yourself toward him in return,  “I guess I am.” Eddie clears his throat, tongue flicking over his full lips to wet them. 

“So uh…before we hit the road,” his voice cracks, heart rattling in its cage, trapped in his chest, “D’you-think-I-could-steal-a-kiss-good-morning?” It pours out of his mouth while his body goes numb – like the bandaid was ripped off but someone else did it for him. His hopeful voice when he presents the offer sounds foreign to him, but he knows what he’s asking you. Blood rushes in his ears, the steady thump of his heart pounding through his veins. Your bottom lip tucks into your teeth, eyes shutting briefly with anticipation, a tiny chuckle huffs through your nose. Your knee starts to bounce again. 

“Yeah, but it’s not stealing if I’m letting you have one,” you reply, your own voice becoming delicate and girlish, teenage nerves coasting down your throat through the back of your neck. He leans close to you, engulfed again in the scent of your perfume, head leaning to the side slightly while your movements mirror his. Eddie brings a hand up to hold your face, keeping you steady while he goes in for the kill, one he’d been hoping to make since he saw you last. Heart stuck in his throat, he almost feels a sob shoot through his chest when his lips touch yours. It’s as soft and warm as he remembers. As soft and warm as the moment he’s been replaying in his head since last Monday. 

You both break apart but he doesn’t move away from your face, hand dropping from your cheek to your bouncing knee where he gives it a gentle squeeze, “Are you nervous?” 

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “I think maybe, yeah. But I’m excited, too. Y’know, to spend the day with you.” 

It’s his turn to feel giddy and embarrassed, a flush building steadily on the apples of his cheeks, “If it makes you feel any better, I’m nervous, too. But it’s  just gonna be a nice, chill day, okay?” 

“Okay,” you nod, both of you wearing matching smiles. 

“I do have a rule, though,” his brows furrow, implying he’s serious. You look very seriously back at him. 

“I gotta kiss you every time you’re startin’a look a little too good,” he gives you a shrug of one shoulder before settling back into the driver’s seat while he pulls onto the road, “Cause I don’t know if you saw, but the way you look this morning is fucking illegal.” 

You let out a soft tsss from between your teeth, shaking your head while you settle back into your seat, “You’re so stupid.” 

“I’m just a man, sugar,” he tilts his head, readjusting behind the wheel before putting the car back in drive. He restarts the song before pulling onto the road, feeling like maybe this errands date would go much, much better than he’d planned. He drums on the steering wheel again, head softly bouncing along with the beat of the song while the lyrics scream through the car. You mouth along with them, staring out the window while you do. 

‘Those cold hooks, cemetery claws raking at the infant's jaws,Set fire to the horse on fire,Set fire to the dress on fire,Set fire to the stage on fire,Set fire to the stars on fire!’

“Damn, me and the band shoulder cover this,” he nods to himself, “We’d fuckin’ crush.” 

“Can you scream like that?” you ask, turning your head to face him, “I feel like I’d blow my vocal chords.” 

“Eh, sorta kinda,” he tilts his head from side to side, “I got plenty of practice. Do plenty of screaming with our own stuff, you sorta train your voice up to do it. I might not be able to scream as high but, I could harmonize with Jeff – lead guitar if you remember –” “I remember,” you smile, “And his wife Alycia.” 

“And is wife Alycia! Damn, look at you,” he smiles, “You should write my memoirs. But yeah, surprisingly Jeff can get pretty high up there – it’s super impressive.”

“Well when you cover it, I’ll come watch,” you nod, “You still haven’t really told me about your band.” 

“Corroded Coffin?” he asks, turning into a coffee shop drive-thru and pulling up behind a short line of cars, “Not much to tell. We play shows every couple weeks, in the summer every week, at a few bars around the city that are into that scene. We have fun – still play at our old stomping grounds in Hawkins, too. Same five drunks cheering us on for the last twelve years.” 

His eyes widen at the realization, “Twelve years, Jesus. I’m so fuckin’ old.”   

“Oh, thank god I only have two years until I’m fuckin’ old,” you laugh, “You don’t look old.” 

“You don’t look old either,” he smiles, giving you a once over that you immediately feel shy under, “What can I get you?” 

“Oh no, no,” you shake your head, reaching for your wallet in your Old Navy bag, “I’ll get it, seriously. You’re driving me.” 

“No, please, I’ll get it,” he says, pushing your hand down gently while you offer your card. 

“I wanna pay for it, you’re already going out of your way to do all this boring shit,” you offer again. He plucks your card from your fingers and flicks it into the backseat. He shrinks when your smile falls, you’re very obviously not taken by his actions. 

“Look,” he shrugs, voice lowering, “I didn’t wanna say anything cause I didn’t know how you’d react. But this location actually doesn’t accept money from women. I know, crazy right? So sexist. Its so gross of me to still go here when it’s totally against all my shit. But since they don’t accept any payments from women, I’m gonna have to pay or else we can’t get coffee.” 

You roll your eyes but can’t hold back your laugh, “Fuck, why do you have to be funny about it?” 

“You think I’m funny, huh?” he grins, pulling up to the microphone box. 

“Yeah, funny lookin’,” you tease. Eddie ‘tsks’ a few times with a shake of his head, looking back at you. 

“What can I get you?” he asks again. 

“Medium, iced, caramel. Almond milk if they have it, regular if not,” you respond, crossing your arms. He orders and can feel your eyes on him, he wants to turn back around and kiss that pout right off your lips. You’re not used to having someone take care of things and he can tell, you don’t like it either. Or at least you don’t know how to let yourself like it. Two givers stuck in a car running errands with each other – he wonders if you’ve ever known how to take. 

He gets the coffees, yours with your milk and flavor, his iced and black. You say thank you when you take it, there’s something about your face when you do, a softness he feels like he’s not supposed to see. 

“Hey, you know my rule,” he says, leaning in again, “You’re startin’ to look at little too good right now.” 

Your embarrassed smile says enough when you close the gap between the two of you, lips pressing together in a soft and gentle peck. 

“Thank you,” he expresses, big brown eyes looking into yours before pulling back onto the streets. He turns the sound system up again, the opening of Cam’ron’s Hey Ma flows through the speakers, he nods enthusiastically. 

“Another banger,” he exclaims. 

“You know this song?” you ask with surprise. 

“I grew up in a trailer park, baby. You hear a lot of different music out there,” he shrugs. Eddie feels his throat choke up when he realizes he called you baby. But at least if you hated it, you weren’t showing any sign that you did. 

“Got drops. Got coupes. Got trucks. Got jeeps. Alright, 'cause we gon' take a ride tonight So ma. Wassup? Let's slide. Alright. Alright, and we gon' get it on tonight.” He likes that you’re impressed that he knows the words, of course he does. He grew up hearing this song all of summer 2002, running through the hose with the little kids, while his old baby sitters sat out in lawn chairs to work on their color. Playboy Bunny stickers on their hip bones to show off their tan lines. 

You both sing the opening verse to the windshield, windows coming down an inch as you turn onto the parkway, voices booming over Juelz Sanatana’s. 

“Now I was down town clubbin’, ladies night, Seen shorty she was crazy right, And I approached baby like, ‘Ma, what’s your age and type?’ She looked at me and said, ‘Yous a baby right?’” He hits the last red light before the long stretch of the drive, turning to you to deliver a passionate line reading of the lyrics. He’s surprisingly smooth, even impressing himself at how actually cool he’s being about it. 

“I told her, I’m eighteen and live a crazy life, Plus I’ll tell you what the 80s like, and I know what the ladies like, Need a man that’s polite, listens and takes advice. I can be all three, plus I can lay the pipe. Come with me, come stay the night.” 

He winks when he finishes the line and by the way you stop singing, he knows he’s got you flustered. You are easy. He wants to see how much easier it is. 

“You better be careful,” you warn, tongue caught between your teeth. “Yeah? I better be careful?” he grins, car pushing forward when the light changes so he can turn onto the highway. 

“You’re trouble, Munson,” you shake your head, turning your attention back to the stretch of asphalt ahead of the both of you, “You’re big trouble.” 

“She looked at me laughin’ like, ‘Boy your game is tight.’ I’m laughin’ back like, ‘Sure, you’re right.’” 

“D’you need a cart?” Eddie asks, taking a side step over to the push carts neatly pushed into each other in between the double doors of Target. 

“Nah, if I get a cart I’m just gonna use it as an excuse to buy more stuff,” you pull a face, shoulders dropping dramatically, “And while I’d love to have an excuse to buy more stuff, I just need a basket.” “Basket it is,” he grins, hand wrapping over the hard plastic of one of the handles, tugging a basket loose from where it’s encased with its brothers. You reach your hand out, taking a step closer to the entrance, our step triggers the automatic doors and he files in after you. 

He looks at your outstretched hand behind you and then up at your face, “I can hold it, Ed.” 

He gives you a small shake of his head, “Nah, I’ll carry it. You lead the way. What’s on your list?”  “I mostly just need to get travel stuff…like toiletries,” you think out loud, “I guess this wasn’t really much of a big errand now that I think about it.” 

“That’s okay,” he says, and he means it. 

You don’t go straight to the beauty section. You’re taken by the $5 and under shelves at the front of the store, full of small decor knick knacks that he recognizes from his own apartment. This is where Tati’s always picking up those little gold tchotchkes for the coffee table and bookshelves every other month. The same way Chrissy would always have new, tiny holiday themed pieces every year to sneak onto their mantle.

“So, do you want me to keep you on task?” he asks, falling in step next to you, watching your fingers toy over a felted bunny figurine for Easter, “Or do you want me to aid in you not being on task?” 

You look over at him, eyes scanning over his frame. He catches the way your eyes linger on the way his t-shirt fits him under his leather jacket and denim vest. Dark olive green, a touch too tight in the chest, collar worn out just enough so that the ends of his collar bones peeked through. 

“We have all day, right?” you smirk. 

“All day,” he nods, “You a walking through the aisles type of girl?” 

“Is that a deal breaker?” you ask, attention captivated by a lavender ceramic pencil holder in the shape of a rainbow. 

“No, not at all,” he assures, taking you by surprise when he presses a kiss to your temple, “I’m a walking through the aisles type of guy.” 

“Was I looking a little too good while perusing the five dollar shelf?” you tease while you move onward into the store, stopping to thumb through a rack of jeans.

“Well that’s the thing,” he says with a tilt of his head, “You’re always lookin’ a little too good.” 

He hums when you roll your eyes, “Hmm. How’d I know that was coming?” 

“Why’re you so nice to me all the time, huh?” you fake argue, bored with looking at clothes and taking deliberate steps towards home goods to the bath section. Eddie hurries to keep up, basket clicking and clacking in his hand. 

“I guess I can be mean to you, but I feel like that would make me a shitty date,” he jokes back, “And an even worse Uber driver.” 

“So true, actually. Zero stars,” you nod, running your hand over a towel that matches the color of his shirt, “Y’know green’s a really good color for you? Makes your eyes pop.” 

“Oh…” he can feel himself turning red when you say that. So she’s been looking at my eyes? Is she always secretly sort of checking me out the way I’m always secretly sort of checking her out? Does she think I’m cute or something? Why am I trying to propose to her right now? Is it ‘cause we’re looking at towels? 

“Um, thank you. I’ll um, I’ll wear it more often,” he runs a hand over his face while you continue to look at towels, turning the corner to look at the fancier ones. You laugh at his jittery response, not so much at him, not teasing, but – this guy covered in tattoos, stomping in combat boots, definitely has a knife in his back pocket, chains dangling down the side of his pants, is blushing bright red just because you said he looks good in green. This guy? 

“You should,” you encourage, turning to see his reddened face, “What happened to not being nervous?” 

“That’s a rule for you,” he says, walking a few steps ahead of you. His eyes catch on a soap dispenser, it’s the same one he had in the master bathroom back with Chris, “I can be as nervous as I want.” 

“Ah, I see, rules for thee, not for me,” you nod slowly. 

“See! Now you’re getting it,” he says over his shoulder. He reaches his free hand back toward you, eyes meeting yours, tossing you a smile when you look at his hand and back at him, “Yeah, I want you to hold it.” 

When your fingers slide in to lace with his he realizes his hands are a little sweaty. They weren’t last time you saw him, with your hand cradled in between his on his knee at the bar. He was a couple drinks in then, not forced to face the action fully. Not aware enough to realize he was holding a pretty girl’s hand in public on a domestic date and all he can think about is railing you in the backseat of his Honda Civic and also making a mental note of all the color choices you like so when you eventually move in together he already knows what you — Jesus fucking Christ you have soft hands. You guide him through the rest of the bathroom section, stopping briefly to consider whether or not you need more hand towels for your apartment and then shaking it off. He let’s you take him around the corner to mattress covers, you talk about your Casper mattress and how you still aren’t sure if you really like it two years later. He hears himself respond in a fog but he’s caught up on how right it feels to be here with you, to be holding your hand, holding your Target basket for you, listening to you talk about whatever. 

You get to bedding and stop at the throws, Eddie’s fog lifts when you let go of his hand to take one of them off the shelf. A dark green knitted blanket replaces his hand, folded up neat and tidy in its wrap-around casing. 

“This is so perfect for my living room,” you murmur to yourself, “It’s so cute.” 

Eddie leans against the shelf while you let your senses absorb the knit: touch, sight, smell. You peer at the other colors, unhappy with the rest, balancing the blanket on your hip while you look back at the empty spot where it once sat. Your eyes roll again, shoulders slumping for real this time.

“Not seventy five dollars cute,” you grumble, putting the blanket back on the shelf. 

“Seventy five dollars?” he asks, aghast, brown eyes rounding in surprise, “What, did they shear the sheep here or something?” 

“That’s capitalism for ya,” you click your tongue, giving the blanket one last look with a little pout, “Oh well, I’m sure I can find a dupe or something at TJ Maxx.” 

“M’sorry, sweetheart,” he consoles, taking your hand back and giving it an apologetic squeeze. 

“Sweetheart…” you repeat back, “That’s cute.” 

“That’s cute? Okay,” he smiles down at the tile under his feet, teeth showing, “I’ll keep note of that.” 

You both continue your journey through bedding, crossing through the Hearth & Hand showcase where he listens to you gripe about how you swear it’s a scam. None of this shit should be this expensive. Like, I could get all this shit at H&M Home online for twenty dollars less. What, just cause they’re on TV? Frickin’ ridiculous. He still stands by thinking that you’re cute when you’re mad. He can’t let go of your hand. He doesn’t even care that you’re both so far from travel toiletries, that you likely forgot why you were even here. He just likes this, being in Target with you, holding your hand while you yell about something. 

“Oh, hold on, I gotta look at these,” you squeeze his hand before you let go again, walking ahead of him while Matchbox Twenty’s 3AM fades into Des’ree’s You Gotta Be. 

“Decorative wicker baskets?” he asks, stepping back to look at the wall of wicker baskets of all sizes in the back of the store. 

“I need two for under my dresser,” you say, reaching up to grab one and looking at the tag for the dimensions, “S’for my socks and stuff.” 

He tosses you a look and you look back at him, “Don’t ask.” 

You get lost in the task, two stepping with a little sway to your hips, small movements. You sing along to the song while you pull one basket down and put it back, and so on. You gotta be cool, you gotta be calm, you gotta stay together. You aren’t mocking him when you sing along but the lyrics feel like they are. You’re so into it, too. He guesses this is what you’re like when no one’s around to watch you. How unfortunate that you’re so kissable even when you think no one is around to see it. 

“Hey,” he says, putting the basket down, “What did I say about looking too good?” 

“What?” you turn around, eyes rounded, almost startled, “Am I taking too long?”

“No,” he says with a furrow of his brow, approaching you gently while he crosses into your personal space. His voice drops a little lower, lips lingering close to yours, “No baby, not at all. Just looking really cute over here.” 

You can’t help but feel girlish when he’s like this, giggling while heat floods your cheeks and chest. 

“C’mere,” he whispers, pressing you back with his body so you’re flush with the shelves against the wall. His nose brushes yours, fingers finding your chin to tilt you up toward him where his mouth can taste you and you can taste him. He starts slow, just a test, shrouded in the lower light of the back decorative basket aisle, lips parting slightly to see if you’ll match it. He puffs a small breath against the ridge of your upper lip and it’s enough to send you into a frenzy. His body presses close up against you, kiss gaining fervor, hands coming up to cup around your cheek and neck to guide you with him

“Wait, wait,” you gasp, breaking away, “We’re gonna get in trouble.” 

“You think I’m scared of getting in trouble?” he clicks his tongue before grinning at you. Looks like you don’t do trouble. His lips ghost over yours, skating softly over your cheek to get to your ear, “I’ve been gettin’ kicked out of Targets since 2007, sweetheart.” 

His teeth graze your ear lobe, your hands reaching to clutch the soft leather of his jacket, a small sigh puffs out of you. He’s not sure if it’s pushing it, but the aisle is empty, and whatever he’s doing, he’s pretty sure you like it – his lips drop from your earlobe to the edge of your jaw, settling on a slow, wet open mouth kiss on your neck before meeting your mouth again. 

“Ed,” you mumble quietly, “I can’t be turned on at Target.” 

“Yes you can,” he giggles, stealing another gentle kiss from you. 

“Uh…hey folks,” a timid voice calls from the end of the aisle. You both break away, embarrassment clearly taking you over while you cover your face in your hands. A younger guy in a red t-shirt and khaki slacks waves awkwardly when he has both of your attention. 

“Sorry to uh, to interrupt but, um – y’know, this is a family friendly store and we just – yeah, I’m sorry. You’re not in trouble or anything,” he offers, stumbling over his words. 

“Thanks man,” Eddie says genuinely, giving him a wave back, “Sorry about that, just uh, caught up in the moment I guess. Baskets really do it for her, y’know?” 

The guy nods, walking away when a small thwap of the back of your hand hits his chest. 

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you laugh, changing your voice to mock him, “Baskets really do it for her. Fuck all the way off.” 

Eddie laughs with you, picking up the Target basket and placing it in your hand, “Look, I gotta pee so bad. Do you think you can man the aisles yourself while I go and take care of that?” 

You nod, “Just text me when you’re done and I’ll tell you where I am, okay?” 

“Cool,” he nods back, leaning in to press a kiss to your cheek, “See you in a bit.” 

hey, where are you at? easter stuff, i got distracted  very godly of you

He bustles through the aisles, realizing now that you’re on the totally opposite side of the store than you were before. He spots you where all the candy is, your basket full of your toiletries.  “Easter candy?” he asks. 

“It’s the best holiday candy, easily,” you confess, “I know people will probably say Halloween since that’s the candy holiday, but dude, there’s something about Cadbury eggs.” 

“Yeah?” he reaches out and takes the basket out of your hand gently, you don’t protest when he does, “Isn’t it supposed to be from the UK? Don’t they have better chocolate by proxy?” 

“I think so,” you agree while Eddie strolls a little further down the aisle, “Have you ever had them?” 

“I’m sure I have,” he says, fingers tracing over a chocolate bunny in a box, “I guess I’m more of a Halloween guy.” 

“Boring,” you sing, holding two small bags of Cadbury eggs in your hands. Eddie holds the basket in front of him while you gear up to toss one in. 

“Kobe!” you shout, the candy leaving your fingers in a lay up toss, floating through the air only to fall at Eddie’s feet on the tile. 

“Too soon,” Eddie shakes his head solemnly, reaching down to grab the chocolate and put it in the red basket in his arm, “How’re you gonna call out a legend’s name and then miss?” 

“I feel like you moved it so that I’d miss,” you accuse playfully. 

“I kept it exactly where it was, I think you’re just not very good at basketball,” he says, making his way towards you. You put the other bag in with the rest of your stuff and look up at him through half lidded eyes. He matches your gaze while he looks at you. 

“You just don’t wanna see me be great,” you tease. 

“Oh, stop,” he tutts, “You’re very great.” 

Neither of you can help but kiss again. It feels natural to do it at this point. 

“You get everything you need to get?” he asks against your lips. You nod, a little ‘mhm’ squeaks out of your throat, “Good, cause they can’t yell at us for making out in the parking lot. So we should head out of here soon.” 

The remainder of the errands and lunch go by like a blur to him. Saturday meant busy restaurants so instead you opted for fast food in the parking lot, starting the drive home sharing Wendy’s waffle fries over the center console. 

Before you pull out of the lot, he flicks your music on again, opting to just leave it on shuffle because he feels like he learns you better that way. What’s going to come up next that’ll surprise him? What’s he gonna find out about you? 

‘Baby, I know you’re hurting, Right now you feel like you could never love again. Now all I ask, is for a chance, to prove, That I love you.’ 

Eddie barks out a laugh, takes a sip of his Sprite, and then laughs again, “Oh shit. I haven’t heard this song in years!”

“You know this song, too?” you ask, surprised again at his music repertoire. 

“You really don’t think I’m cultured, do you?” he jokes, “I have a deep affinity for the Backstreet Boys, though I will admit I was an NSYNC boy myself growing up.”

“Of course,” you murmur with an eye roll, “What’s your favorite NSYNC song?” 

“Ooh, let me see,” he thinks while he turns onto the highway, “Definitely Drive Myself Crazy. I’d always try to hit JC’s runs.”

“You knew their names too?” 

“I told you already, I grew up in a trailer park. I had the same babysitter from two to eleven,” he explains, “Mrs. Grandy watched me until her daughter Summer turned thirteen and then I’d go and pal around with her and her friends. I was like her little brother, I practically lived there.” 

“Were you always there?” you ask, “At your babysitter’s house?” 

“Yeah. My uh, my mom died when I was seven but she was always working and tryna stay out of the house when my dad came home so I was always at the sitters. He’s y’know – he’s in jail but he was in and out of it when I was a kid, too. Got arrested for beating on her a couple months before she died and my uncle moved up from North Carolina to take care of me. But he worked nights so – if I wasn’t at school I had to have someone watch me while he slept and then someone had to be at the trailer while I slept. It was way easier when I was in school – but anyway – wow – off topic there – yes, I spent a lot of time with my babysitter and her mom,” he finishes.  

“I’m sorry,” you offer, reaching over to give his knee a reassuring squeeze. 

“No, don’t be. It’s okay. I’m okay – I turned out pretty cool, I think,” he shrugs.

“You’re really cool,” you smile, Eddie smiles back. 

“What’s your favorite Backstreet Boys song?” he asks. 

“Hey Mr. DJ, easy,” you tell him, “It’s the most fucknasty song they’ve ever made and it still holds up. Like, I want it played at my wedding. I’m trying to make a child to that song.” 

Eddie loses it at fucknasty, head falling back on the headrest while his chest bounces, “The most fucknasty song? We’ll have to play that next.” 

“You won’t be disappointed,” you say, “AJ sings it and he was my favorite.” 

“Oh, baby, that does not surprise me at all,” he grins. Calling you baby sounds comfortable now, even after just talking for a week. He’s not sure how fast or slow these things are supposed to go, but your little smile every time he says it makes him wanna say it more. 

“I saw them in concert, when I was like, nine or ten or something,” Eddie says, “For their Millenium Tour – was when I Want It That Way was huge.” 

“You got tickets?” you ask, a teasing grin splitting your face. 

“Summer was a huge Backstreet Boys and NYSNC fan, like, posters all over her room. Had every magazine they were in that she could find, everything. So all we would do when she would watch me was listen to them and talk about them, so I liked them because she liked them and I thought she was cool,” he starts. 

“So anyway, she finds out on the radio that they’re giving away tickets to a show in Columbus – cause like, no one fucking comes to Indiana to play shows – and she calls in and wins! She literally went into shock. But we ended up going and she brought me instead of her friend because she was like ‘Mom, he’s family’. Which as an adult, makes me fucking melt y’know? But as a kid I was like ‘Damn you’re gonna drag me to Ohio to see a boy band? I wanna see Tool.’”

“Not Tool!” you laugh.  

“But it was cool cause we got to stay in a hotel for a night and all that other shit. It felt really special, her mom got us t-shirts which I’m sure cost her a fortune but – damn. I had a lot of fun.” 

“It sounds like you did.”

“The most crazy thing though – which I’ve never told anyone so, I hope you feel special – was when I saw them perform, I thought like, ‘Wow, I wanna do this when I grow up.’ So in a way, if it wasn’t for the Backstreet Boys, I would’ve never realized I wanted to be a rockstar,” he confesses, “And I mean, obviously I was really into rock, and metal, and folk-punk stuff ‘cause of Wayne, but seeing those guys on stage? Everyone screaming? I was like ‘Damn, I wanna be up there! I wanna be shredding up there!’” 

“I love that,” you reply, a warm smile spread across your face while you watch him relive the memory in his head. 

He shrugs, “It was a cool dream to have but, I don’t know. That ship has long sailed.” 

“What do you mean? Long sailed? You can still be a rockstar,” you argue, a fry crunching soft between your teeth. 

He shakes his head, slight defeat caressing his tone, “No I can’t. I’m too old now.” 

“Too old? Shut up,” you assert through a mouthful of waffle fry, “Metallica’s still out there playing. Iron Maiden is literally on tour right now. And they’re all like – in their sixties for fuck’s sake.” 

“Okay?” he huffs back, the red from the hazard lights of the car in front of you flashes against his face, “And? They all got famous when they were like, twenty or younger. I’m fucking…thirty-two.” 

“Exactly! You’re only thirty-two,” you exclaim while he rolls to a stop at a red light. Your hand reaches out to squeeze his arm, “You have so much time. You can literally be a rockstar whenever.” 

Eddie’s chest gets tight when you say that – it had been a while since he heard that type of encouragement. He’d missed the feeling of someone cheering him on from the bar while he was on stage, Chrissy’s praise when they’d get home. Wayne calling to tell him he saw a review of their set in the paper. Lately the shows felt sad to him, he felt lonely, even though he was always the happiest when he could make it on that stage. 

“You can’t be saying shit like that to me,” he says knowingly, maneuvering his arm so that he can take your hand in his. 

“Why not?” you ask, your voice holding a hint of sullenness that breaks his heart. He kisses your knuckles before resting his and your hand on your thigh, the light changing to green. 

“‘Cause you’re gonna make me fall in love with you.” Your eyes cast down at his hand on your thigh, your smile tight, stretching painfully across your cheeks, “Oh, okay. I’ll be meaner if that’s not what you’re going for.” 

“It’s definitely what I’m going for,” he murmurs, squeezing your hand softly. 

The mood in the car shifts to comfortable silence, I’ll Never Break Your Heart fading out into the opening croons of Leon Bridges’ Coming Home. You lean your head on the window, looking at the cars passing you on the highway, the light flecks of rain hitting the glass as the car keeps its speed. Eddie lets go of your hand, palm stretching over the mass of your thigh, running soothingly up and down on your leggings. His thumb rubs soft and slow over the outside of your quad, he just wants to touch you. It’s a comforting touch, no implications other than – I like being here with you right now. 

‘The world leaves a bitter taste in my mouth, girl. You're the only one that I want, Wanna be around. Wanna be around, girl, Wanna be around, girl, Ooh, wanna be around, girl...’

“I like this,” Eddie says, his voice soft, “Who is this?” 

“Leon Bridges,” you answer, “The whole album is so good. It honestly sounds even better on vinyl.” 

“I was just about to say, I bet it sounds great on vinyl,” he enthuses, “I like the old timey vibe.” 

“It’s cozy, right?” you ask. 

“Very cozy,” he nods, tossing a look over to you. Your eyes are heavy lidded, breath steady in your chest,  “You gettin’ sleepy?” 

“Kinda,” you yawn, “You’re not boring me or anything, I promise.” 

“That’s okay,” he offers you a soft pat on the thigh, returning back to the slow back and forth that was putting you to sleep, “We’ll be home soon-ish, just take a nap.” 

You frown, “You sure? Am I being lame?” 

“Nah, you’re not being lame,” he assures. Your eyes flutter closed, the warm cascade of his hand continues while they do. 

After a long stretch of highway, Eddie turns the car into your part of town, a sadness washing over him that he has to drop you off and then go home to his apartment for the remainder of this rainy evening. For a flicker of a moment he wants to be selfish and ask if you wanna just kick it at his house, but he knows you have stuff to do before this trip. Envy seeps into his sadness that your boss gets to spend so much time with you, gets to watch you laugh, gets to watch you solve problems, gets to watch you do anything all day. Is it healthy to feel like this so quickly? I don’t know her like that, he wonders, Is it that sort of thing where like, if you know you know? Or am I being kind of insane right now? 

“What’d I miss?” you ask, rising from your mini-nap in the car. You frown when you see your surroundings, so much closer to home than you hoped. 

“A few showtunes and Mariah’s Vision of Love,” he says, your sleepy voice tugging on his heart and lips, “I’m partial to My All but that’s cause I’m a professional sad boy.” 

“My All is on there, but it’s probably good I was out for Vision of Love – you didn’t have to hear me screlting it in the small confines of this car,” you laugh.

“Do you sing?” he asks. You shake your head no. 

“I did musicals in high school, as you can see by the showtunes,” you explain, “But I wouldn’t call myself much of a singer.” 

“I’m sure I’ll find out if that’s true sooner or later,” he offers. It’s part way through Good Charlotte’s Girls & Boys, volume low so he didn’t disturb you sleeping. 

“This song makes me laugh,” you say, he feels your hand find his, still sitting firm on your lap. You play with his rings, twirling them around his fingers, he swallows hard. 

“Like, so many songs that came out around this time, even a couple years after – now they just sound like women’s empowerment.” 

“Tell me more,” he says, turning onto your street, the ache creeping back up again. 

“Like, ‘Girls don’t like boys, girls like cars and money.’ Is that supposed to be a dig? Of course I like cars and money – I’m a person. ‘Paper or plastic, don’t matter, she’ll have it.’ Like it’s a bad thing! Sounds like she’s thriving, he’s paying for everything and she didn’t even ask him to, she’s just sitting there looking hot!” you continue, “Sounds like a dream to be honest!”

“Yeah!” he nods, mulling it over in his head, “Fuckin’ – good for her!” 

“I’m happy for her!” you laugh, he laughs with you. It’s nice to laugh so much with you, he likes that you’re sort of goofy in your own right. He pulls up to your house, pulling in to park in front of the walk way. Both of your laughs quiet down, you both look at the house through your window and the air in the car changes. 

“I don’t wanna go,” you frown, shoulders slumping, “I wanna keep hanging out.” 

“I know,” he says gently, “I wanna keep hanging out, too – but you got stuff you need to get ready for tomorrow.”

“I know,” you scrunch your nose, “So stupid.” 

“So stupid,” he agrees, “How dumb that you have to go to a really cool expo where the weather’s nice.” “Well when you put it like that,” you say with a tilt of your head and a smile. 

“Let me get your stuff out of the trunk,” he offers, getting out of the car into the smattering of rain. He pops the trunk and grabs your bags, coming over to your side to open your door for you. 

“Here,” he says, offering you your toiletries, Old Navy exchange (and a few other purchases), and a Sephora bag with definitely more than just your boss’s sunscreen in it. You thank him and lean in for a kiss but he grins, turning away from you to go back to the trunk, “Sorry, forgot a bag.” 

He reappears with the trunk closes, another Target bag in his hands that he passes to you. The weight reveals what it is before you look, but you peek to be sure, “Ed…”

“I didn’t really have to pee,” he confesses, “You just really liked it and you looked so sad when you put it back so, you know, I just wanted to do something nice.” 

“It’s really nice,” you smile, looking down at the green Casaluna blanket nestled in the bag, “I just don’t want to like…feel like I owe you something.” 

“No, no, no,” he hurriedly shakes his head, “Please don’t feel like that. This really was just like – it’s not like a power move or anything I’m not like that, I promise – I don’t want anything in return, seriously.” 

“Except maybe a picture when it’s all set up nice in your living room,” he grins. Your eye rolls make his heart flutter because so far, you always kiss him after you do it and this time is no exception. 

“I’ll see you when I come back,” you say, wincing as the rain starts to pick up. “You act like you’re going to war, sugar,” he teases, “Like you’re not gonna text me in five minutes.” 

“Ew, bye,” you scowl, giving him a peck before hustling up the walkway to find refuge on the covered porch. 

“Bye,” he calls out, bottom lip tucking between his teeth in the afterglow of another good date. He gets back in the car and waits for you to get in safely before driving away towards his own apartment. At a red light, his phone goes off, just five minutes since he’s pulled away. He opens his texts, a full belly laugh barking from his mouth.  it looks great in my living room. oh shit it’s only been five minutes. 😡 fuck you. 

By day two of your trip, Eddie was already homesick for you. Savoring every message you could send his way when you weren’t busy, but also trying his best not to text you back immediately so he didn’t seem needy. Or worse, desperate. He liked it the most when you’d send pictures: big pink quartz bathtubs, amethyst arm chairs, huge chunks of malachite that were the size of his hand. 

these would make cool dice for d&d, right? the coolest. you should buy that and then hand carve the dice for me. let me pull a grand out of my ass real quick so i can get to work on that. so needy.   oh, so you miss me?  of course i do :) i miss you, too :) 

“So when’re we gonna meet your mystery girlfriend?” Robin asks, swirling her rum and coke with her straw, “Or does she go to a different school in Canada that we wouldn’t know about?” 

Steve snickers with Robin, two mean girls who always mean girl together. It was a Tuesday, which meant Robin and Steve would meet up for Happy Hour at a bar near Nancy’s office for the paper and then bother everyone else to come meet them until everyone showed up. The three sat at the corner of the bar, Steve in the center in his business casual. Patagonia vest over his blue button up, hair perfectly windswept with his sunglasses tucked into his t-shirt collar. Picture perfect finance bro with his mean lesbian guard dog to bark at any woman who might hurt his feelings. Eddie was convinced that if Robin wasn’t gay, they would’ve gotten married the day that they met. 

“Well she’s not my girlfriend yet, for one,” Eddie starts, defensively, “And if you wanna know if she’s real, here’s her Instagram.” 

He passes his phone to Robin who swipes through your photos with a nod, a smile pulling across her face, “Not bad at all, Munson.” 

“Let me see,” Steve demands with a slight whine, plucking the phone from her hand. He scrolls, a touch of a salacious smirk spreading across his face, “Oh, smash. Immediately smash.” Steve passes Eddie’s phone back to him on the table, screen open to a risque picture of you on the beach, “You didn’t fuck?” 

“Not yet, Harrington,” Eddie sighs, “I’ll be sure to let you know the moment I slip it in, okay?” 

“I’m just saying,” Steve shrugs, “I would’ve fucked her already.” 

“Yeah, we know loverboy,” Robin teases. Eddie’s shoulders tense a little because if Steve wanted you, he’d definitely be able to take you. He’s hot and charismatic, he has more money than he knows what to do with, and at the end of the day – Steve loves women. All kinds of women. Eddie swore Steve would leave college with a taste for thin blondes that were in his frat’s sister sorority but every night it was someone new. And every night, Steve Harrington got what Steve Harrington wanted. 

“Tell her to follow me,” Steve winks. 

“It’s the first thing I did when I met her, actually – told her to follow you,” Eddie jokes back. 

what’re you doing? happy hour with the group. well right now just rob and steve but everyone else is on the way. fun! i bought a new bathing suit at a vendor because i have bad impulse control. also look at these cool rocks. oh, sick – what kind are they? the vendor said they’re ocean jasper do you want one? will you get a matching one with me? also linger is playing at the bar right now and it’s…making me think about you? stupid as hell. absolutely will get us matching ones. i love that song. who said you could be this cute? pretty sure i did. steve says hi by the way, he’s ‘linger’ing over my shoulder. lmao you’re so corny “Is she gonna send you a picture of her in the bathing suit or not?” he asks impatiently. “She’s still working, man,” Eddie flips his phone over so the screen can’t be seen, “And even if she does, I’m not gonna show it to you.” “Yeah, don’t be such a perv Steve,” Robin sasses, “Get me another rum and coke instead.” 

After an hour, the rest of the group has made it and Eddie’s had three beers in a short span of time. Not enough alcohol to feel drunk, but enough alcohol that he keeps getting lost in the thought of your thighs on that barstool last week. The little overflow of your tummy in your jeans, your hips, what you might look like out of those jeans. What sounds you might’ve made if he went to your house after Target and he peeled those leggings off you. You’re busy and he’s bummed out about it only because he selfishly wishes you were here at happy hour instead of looking at cool rocks. “You look so sad right now,” Tatianna says from across the table the group has gathered round, “You miss your girl?” 

Eddie pouts dramatically, nodding, “I do.” “Guys this is the one, I’ve never seen him like this before,” Tatianna grins, “He’s down bad.” 

Tati reaches next to her to hold hands with Gareth giving it a squeeze, “Hinge is the truth, I’m telling you.” 

“I mean, you sure? He thought Chris was the one and look how that turned out,” Mike says from the other end. Everyone sighs and groans, whines of ‘C’mon Wheeler,’ sound out of a few of them. 

“When you know, you know, kid,” Gareth offers softly, “And I think Ed knows.” 

“When’re we gonna meet this girl who likes your nerdy ass?” Erica giggles next to him. “Exactly what I was saying earlier,” Steve adds. 

“I don’t think you need to meet her, Steve,” Dustin laughs, “Let him have something, for God’s sake.”  “Well,” Nancy starts, “I mean, Steve’s party at Barcade is next week. Might be a good sort of low stakes way to ease her in.” 

“That’s actually such a good idea,” Tatianna agrees. 

“But I have the jazz concert for my kids that night,” Eddie sulks. 

“Yeah but that ends at like, eight thirty,” she argues, “You should tell her to come. We’ll take care of her before you show up.”  “I’ll take realgood care of her, Munson,” Steve grins.

“Steve.”

Eddie’s head is down on his forearms so he doesn’t know how many people started scolding Harrington over his head. This was overwhelming again – this part. Eddie thought maybe all the fussing over starting to date would be the worst but now it’s every day that they ask about you. At least twice a day in the group chat – Your girl coming to D&D? How was your date last weekend? Is she with you right now? Tell her we all said hi. Are you gonna bring her to Tati’s art show?

He doesn’t have all the answers yet and he doesn’t know where you’re at either. Do you want to meet his friends? Would you even like them?

Everyone yelling at Steve is satisfying, but it would be cooler if you were here to see it.  

The following night he was up late grading papers he should’ve graded a week ago but he was too caught up in his personal life to care. Conversation with you had dwindled quickly last night as he spent more time at the bar and ended up planning the next campaign. You hadn’t reached out at all today and he felt too proud to be the one to text you first, a twinge of resentment plucking at his heart strings in his chest. Hollow loneliness drumming at his ribcage. 

The papers were graded, neatly stacked and put away in his bag for tomorrow, red pen capped and put back on his desk. Eddie groans as he stands up to stretch, peeling off his t-shirt and slipping off his sweatpants, tossing them haphazardly in the corner of the room by his hamper. He kicks off his socks, finally comfortable in his boxers and silver chain, before trudging down to the bathroom to brush his teeth. He comes back to a quiet buzz on his phone, screen glowing to life while he swipes it off his dresser. 

hey, sorry i was so MIA today. things got really busy and hectic, surprise zoom meeting with bloomingdale’s and then a second surprise offer call with bergdorf goodman and then a few vendors wanted to get dinner and schmooze. it’s no excuse honestly but i should’ve messaged you to let you know i was busy. i’m sorry, handsome :( thought about you all day if that helps 

Eddie’s heart leaps in his chest, cheeks already hurting from the smile splitting his face open. You thought about him all day. You thought about him all day. The same way he thinks about you all day. He climbs into bed, snuggling in under the covers with the glow of his phone illuminating his grinning face in the dark. 

don’t apologize, sweetheart, i know you’re busy. glad that your hectic day is over at least, now you can relax! thought about you all day, too. one of my kids kept trying to play juicy by doja cat on the sax at jazz practice, so you came to mind immediately. LMAO. i’ll take that as a compliment. what’re you doing up so late?  grading papers, but i’m done now. i’d ask why you’re up so late but it’s only nine thirty there. what’re you up to? trying this bathing suit on, finally. do you wanna see it?

“Do I wanna see it?” he murmurs, exasperated with an eye roll to no one, “Of course I wanna see it.” 

yeah, show me :) 

He waits with bated breath, trying his best to swipe out of the text conversation and do something else instead of counting the minutes until you reply. His heart hammers in his chest while he waits for the familiar buzz in his hand. 

And there you are, dark red spandex hugging you tight, cinching you in all the right places. His eyes linger on the high cut of the bottom, the way some of the pudge of your hips pokes out at the seams and he bites his lip. ‘Fuck,’ he mumbles quietly. Your thighs on full display for him, thick and begging for him to grab, you’re so fucking grabbable he can’t even stand it. 

jfc you know what you’re doing  whaaaaat? what do you mean?  ‘what do you meaaaannn 🤪’ you know what i mean.  do you not like it?  i like it a little too much  you wanna see it from the back? 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he mutters into the darkness. He feels the blood rush to his pelvis like an army command, cock partially at attention while his hand palms delicately over his boxers. 

of course i do 

He gulps when the picture comes in, you posed like that on purpose. One ass cheek propped up on the bathroom counter, the other lifted and perky from your stance. The soft rolls of your back on display from how you’re turned to still have your pretty face in frame. He’d fucking wreck you. Lovingly, of course.

do you want me to hop on a flight or?? how much are tickets to az? i’m about to come thru.  you got enough blood in your brain to make that trip rn?  lmao you know i don’t 😏 sorry i’m all the way in a different state, i’d help take care of it. 

“Yeah?” he chokes out, palming turning to full slow strokes over the fabric, “You wanna take care of it for me?” 

yeah? you’d take care of it?  only if you asked nicely :) 

“Fuck,” he whispers, tossing his phone down to reach for his side table drawer to reach for the tiny bottle of lube he kept there. He tugs down his boxers hastily, squirting some of the liquid in his palm before picking up the phone again with his clean hand. 

i’d ask very nicely. i’d even say please.  what a good boy. :) 

“M’such a good boy,” he huffs, hand wrapping tightly around the base of his cock and dragging upwards, “I’ll be so good for you.” 

would you want me to use my hands or my mouth? 

“Oh my fucking God,” he groans, brain short circuiting at the thought of you on your knees while he stands over you. Eyes looking up at him with a hand tangled up in your hair, desperately trying to not thrust deep into your throat while you go to work on him. He bites his lip while he fucks his fist, palm and fingers gliding in time with his foreskin, teasing his tip. A fire lights in his belly, cooking up thoughts in his head on how he’d want you first. 

i like the idea of keeping your mouth full  oh you wanna shut me up? is that it?  i don’t think it takes much. 

His head leans back on the wall behind his bed, eyes closing while his hips roll up to meet the speed of his hand, slower now to stave it off. 

“Yeah, suck it just like that…” he hums out, “Please more.” His brows pinch while he looks back at the picture you sent, your glossed lips gleaming back at him. They’d look so good around his cock, your eyes would look so good filled up with tears when you tried to deep throat him.

“T-take all of it,” he stammers out, unsure of his own dirty talk to himself. Would he actually say that? 

Bzz. Bzz.

oh yeah cause you’re soooo big 🙄

“Psh,” he hisses out with a roll of the eyes, hand lifting off his cock to type back. He guesses when it comes to you, he would say that. Just so you’d stop being such a brat. 

you’re gonna feel so stupid when you see it  you sound very confident  because i am  is it big? 

He looks down at himself confidently, laying fat and dense up his stomach, kicking up at the thought of you seeing it for the first time. Chrissy always gawked at it, despite how many times she’d seen it, it was always like she was seeing it for the first time. The girls he’d pull into the bathroom at The Hideout and other bars would whine at the sight. Both him and them slurring together about how they can make it fit. 

its big, sweetheart. but i think you can take it.  i know i can take it.  so sure of yourself tonight, huh? bet you wouldn’t be so cocky if you were here.  so i could watch you jerk it in your bedroom? puhlease. 🙄 i can tell by how you’re talking that you really like the idea of that.  so you are jerking it in your bedroom?  the same way i know you have your fingers between your pretty thighs

He doesn’t know that, but it was worth the shot. His mind reels, thinking of you barely changing out of your swimsuit into nothing to lay back on your hotel bed to touch yourself to him talking to you. He grunts when his hand wraps around his length again, fisting himself with more intention, thinking about your hips writhing in time with his. He wishes he knew how you sounded when you felt good, how you’ll sound when he makes you feel good. And god does he wanna make you feel good. 

🙈 stop  yeah? i can stop.  don’t actually, i’m just embarrassed 😩 how come?  cause i do have my fingers between my thighs 

“Fuuuuuck me,” he groans into a whimper. He shudders a gasp while his hips buck up to meet his hands thrusts, imagining you on top of him, under him, below him, above him. Mouth, hands, pussy, anything of yours bobbing over his cock. Wiping the images clean and starting over with you splayed out on the hotel bed again, trying to keep quiet so your boss won’t hear you through the hotel’s thin walls. 

does it feel good, sweetheart?  it would feel better if you were doing it for me.  can i call you?

“Can I call you?” he reads out loud, in a whisper, “Can I…call you…” 

absolutely. 

Your face pops up on his phone within the minute, phone buzzing rhythmically in his hands. His heart rate jerks alive, stomach dropping like he’s on a roller coaster while it continues to ring. 

He accepts, swallowing thickly as he does. 

“Hey there,” he murmurs. 

“Hi,” your voice is shaky on the other end, he holds back a moan. 

“Hi,” he says back to you, squeezing himself softly at the base again. 

“Do you wanna hear something embarrassing?” you laugh, following up with a soft needy sigh. 

“Always,” he swoons out, low and warm. 

“Your voice is so hot to me,” you giggle, “I don’t think I could finish if I didn’t hear it.” 

“Ah, there you go again, thinking your compliments to me are embarrassing,” he smirks. You sigh again and he lets out a heady breath while he strokes himself, teetering towards a climax. 

“Sorry,” you smile, and he can hear it in your voice, “You having a hot voice isn’t embarrassing. Me getting off to it is embarrassing.” 

He pauses, hearing your shallow breaths pick up, waiting for the right time to strike. His thumb trails over his tip to smear the precum oozing out of it over the head — his eyes roll back as he thinks about your tongue there instead. 

“S’not embarrassing,” his eyelids lower, settling deeper into his pillows. He groans low in his chest before speaking again, “You all wet for me, sugar?” 

“Yeah,” you whine to him. 

“Wish I could be there to take care of you,” he huffs, “I’d make you feel so good.”  

“How?” you ask breathily. 

He smirks, biting his lower lip, letting out a low laugh, “I’d take my time with you. Sounds like you get real needy.” 

“I’m not needy,” you protest. 

“Not needy, but calls me from the other side of the country to cum to my voice?” he argues playfully, “Oh yeah, not needy at all, baby.” 

You whine again, a few huffs of breath sound in the receiver. 

“You like that?” he asks lowly, “When I’m a little mean to you?” 

“Yeah…” 

“Fuck…” he whispers back, blood rushing to the tip, twitching while he works his hand up his shaft.

“Wait – are you actually jacking it right now?” you ask with a laugh. 

“Yeah,” he sighs back, “Are you surprised?” 

“How long have you been doing it?” 

“Since you sent me that picture with your whole ass out,” he confesses with a giggle, it just makes sense to him to answer honestly. 

“Is that how you wanna fuck me?” your voice is laced with depth and sex, his hips buck up at the sound, “From the back?” 

“Maybe not at first,” he starts, imagining he’s in the hotel with you, eyes locking on yours while you touch yourself. Meeting your pleading eyes with a salacious grin while he pumps his cock, climbing on top of the mattress. Climbing on top of you. 

“I’d probably want you on your back so I could see your pretty face,” he offers, “Watch you take it.” 

You sigh into the receiver again and he groans quietly while pleasure starts taking him over. 

“But if I’m being honest…” he starts again, voice lightly teasing. Your breaths pick up, and if he thinks he’s hearing right, you’re very wet. Just because of him, the way he’s talking to you. He shudders before regaining his composure, voice dropping dangerously low. 

“I can’t wait to get my mouth on that pussy,” he slurs out, drunk on the idea. 

“Mmm, fuck,” you mewl out. Okay Munson, maybe you still know how to do this shit. “Oh, you like the sound of that, huh?” he asks, a light raise to his voice, “You like thinking about me between your legs?” 

“Yes,” you huff through gritted teeth. He feels his orgasm creeping up on him quick, your little whines hitting his ear and gliding down his chest to his pelvis. Every soft puff of your breath feels like he’s the one making it punch out of you. 

“I know you’d take it so good, too. You’d get so messy for me,” he groans again when his palm grazes over the underside of his tip, cock leaking cum unceremoniously, sending shockwaves through his system, “Just like you are right now, hm?  Waiting for me to come over ‘n’ fuck you stupid?” “Please,” you whine into a growl, “Please fuck me stupid.” 

“Oh baby, I will,” he moans while he feels his balls tighten, closer and closer to the edge, hearing you pant and beg like that. Just for him. He grunts, breath huffing from his nose like a bull while his orgasm takes him over, cum shooting onto his belly in thick ropes, “F-fuck till you can’t fuckin – mmmf – can’t fuckin’ think.” “Oh! Oh my god, fuck. Fuck!” you cry out into the receiver. He grins, satisfied at that reaction, both of you taking deep breaths into your mics while you both come down. 

“Did you cum for me, sugar?” he drawls. 

“Mhm,” you squeak out. His grin doesn’t fade, it turns dirty, filthy, “Good girl.” 

“Don’t say that.” He can hear your embarrassed smile in your voice, it makes him laugh. He’s normally not like that, that’s not something he thinks he’s ever said in bed – at least not sober. 

“I won’t say it, I’m sorry. You don’t like that?” he asks thoughtfully. 

“I like it a lot and you’re too far away,” you say softly. 

“Poor thing,” he offers. 

“I am a poor thing!” you exclaim. You quiet down a little, both just listening to each other breathe on the other end, “I’m excited to see you again, when I come back.” 

“I’m excited to see you, too,” he smiles while he speaks softly into the receiver, “But lucky for me, I have these pictures of you to hold me over until then.” 

“Visual learner?” you tease. “Physical, too,” he counters. 

“You really are trouble,” you laugh, “And um – I don’t want you to think that like, the only reason I wanna see you is just to have sex or anything. I just really like spending time with you.” 

“I don’t think that at all,” he assures, “I really, really like spending time with you. I’m – and this is gonna sound super lame – but I’m excited to keep on getting to know you.” 

“Lamest thing I’ve ever heard,” you laugh, “But also, same. We can be lame together.” “Oh – uh, by the way,” Eddie’s voice reverts back to normal while a reminder jolts his body awake, “The group really wants to meet you and I know it’s gonna be the day after you get back and you might want to rest, but Steve’s birthday party is Friday if you wanna come. Totally understand if you’re gonna be too tired.” “Oh no, I’d love that!” he can hear you shifting on the mattress, likely getting ready for bed, “Steve’s the one whose Instagram request I shouldn’t accept, right?” Eddie laughs, “Right.”

You both talk for a little longer before he tells you it’s getting late and you should get some rest since you had such a long day. He doesn’t want to hang up, but you’re both too old to be doing the ‘falling asleep on the phone’ thing. Plus, he had to be up for work in five hours. 

Eddie slides into the seat on his Honda Civic and sighs – he’s tired. He doesn’t want to go to Steve’s party where everyone is gonna be loud and drunk by the time he gets there. He hates playing catch up, but you’re gonna be there so he’s doing his best to hype himself up before he starts the car. He cracks the Monster Energy sitting in his center console and chugs it, heaving a deep breath before starting the car. Mayhem’s Freezing Moon blares through his speakers and he nods to himself, Good, good, good. It would be a hype enough song to get him excited on the way there. He gives himself a once over in the rearview mirror, looking the same as he did when he freshened up in the teacher’s bathroom after the Jazz Club performed during the Spring Concert. His slim fit black slacks still kept their crease, his wallet chains still dangled from his pocket. Eddie took your advice and started wearing more green, a hunter short sleeved linen blend button up laid open and loose over a clean and expensive white t-shirt. If he didn’t know any better, he would say he looked hot. His hair was coiffed and coiled – he made sure to get a trim before you came back just to touch up the shag. His tattoos were the showiest you’d ever seen them and deeply moisturized, his silver chain and small rings were recently cleaned. 

He wants you to lose your mind when you see him, but when he walks into the bar he knows he already lost. There you are, standing at the bar with Nancy, Robin, Steve, and Dustin while they laugh with you at some story you’re telling. You’re all legs in your little black skirt with a cute cropped ‘ARIZONA’ sweatshirt cinching you in right at the waist. Your little white sneakers were shining purple in the black light of the bar, you probably wear these everywhere. 

“Eddie!” Dustin calls out, giving a big wave to call him towards the party. You whip around, beaming while he makes his way over, meeting him part way with a drink in your hand. He can smell your perfume immediately and he’s surprised he hasn’t already fallen to his knees. “Started without me, huh?” he asks, nodding to the drink in your hand. “I tried to get Steve a drink but he said it was a better gift for him to buy me one…or two,” you tell him sheepishly. Eddie catches Steve’s eyes over your shoulder when he pulls you in to say hello and shakes his head. Steve smirks, blowing him a kiss before mouthing, ‘Her ass? Insane.’ putting his hands out to show off the size of it. Eddie flips him off while he lets you go. 

“Everyone’s been really nice though,” you smile, giving him a once over, “You look really good.” 

“Thank you,” he says in your ear, kissing your cheek, “You look too good. Don’t think I can let you stick around here too long.” 

“S’kinda hot when you’re like that,” you grin sloppily, biting your lip. The tequila’s blurring the filter in your head a little, he can tell you’re just saying what comes to mind, eyes a little glassy. 

“Like what?” “A lil’ possessive,” you shrug. He tucks a knuckle under your chin, lifting your gaze toward him for a moment.  “Okay,” he smiles, leaning in to kiss you much more passionately than you expected. Your mouth is cold against his, tongue sliding in to taste the tequila on yours. He snakes one arm around your waist so that you’re chest to chest, both of you laughing against each other’s lips while Tati and the group whoop and holler over your makeout. He breaks away, looking down at you, eyes sparkling. 

“I missed you,” he says confidently. 

“I missed you,” you smile, pulling him tight against you. This was what he was waiting for. An ounce of clinginess so that he didn’t feel so insane for wanting to be close to you all the time. He leads you back over to the bar, hand on your lower back while you put yourself back in your little group. 

“What’re you having tonight, big boy?” Ed asks Steve, clapping him on the back in a brotherly hug. 

“Surprise me – you doing shots?” he asks. Eddie nods, getting the bartender’s attention when she makes his way over. 

“Can I get four shots of Jameson and then two for my buddy over here?” he asks, pointing at Steve with his thumb. The bartender nods, lining up the shot glasses and starting the pour. “I don’t really like Jameson,” you scrunch your nose. 

“Well baby, they’re all for me, so don’t worry about it,” he grins playfully, white teeth shining, “I’ll get you something else when you finish that drink.” 

You nod lazily, pulled into conversation with Robin while Steve and Eddie start taking their shots. The whiskey feels good hitting his throat, burning just enough to reinvigorate him for the rest of the night. He clicks his tongue when he downs them all, the scent of Tatianna’s vanilla perfume overtakes him before her hands cover his eyes from behind. 

“Guess who it is,” she laughs. 

“Someone who used my Warm Vanilla Sugar hand lotion today,” he answers, his fingers running over hers while he peels her hands away. He turns to her to pull her into a hug and then hugging Gareth behind her, already with their drinks in hand. 

“Look, it went with the fragrance I was wearing today. You used my curl cream again so – you can’t even be mad,” she shrugs, beckoning him over with her hand, “Come sit with us really quick.” 

Eddie turns to get your attention but Tatianna stops him, “She’s a big girl, she’s been doing fine on her own without you here, so far. Let her make friends.” Eddie pouts and Gareth pats him on the back after passing Tati’s drink to her, guiding him over to their booth close by the end of the bar. Eddie sits in the middle of the bench, looking like a kid who just got in trouble and is about to get a stern talking to by his parents. “So…” Eddie starts. 

“I really like her, dude,” Gareth grins, “Came in and immediately knew who we were, introduced herself, offered to get us a round. All around seems very much your vibe.” 

“And you, mom?” he asks, eyes lifting up through his lashes to look at Tatianna who has a smug grin on her face. 

“All I’m saying is that you should always be listening to me when I tell you to do something,” she shrugs, “‘Cause what if you had deleted the app that night? Would’ve never met the love of your life right there.” 

“Love of my life? You think?” he asks, eyes widening. “I know. Her energy is exactly what I thought it was gonna be,” Tatianna explains, gold rings in her twists flashing back the neon reflecting on them, “And you’ve been down bad for the past few weeks so I knew there had to be something about her that was really good.” 

“So you like her?” Eddie grins. 

“We love her,” Tatianna nods, “Consider her adopted.” 

“Steve loves her too, it looks like,” Eddie huffs, looking back over at the bar to see Steve showing you something on his phone, a little too close for comfort. 

“He’s behaving himself, don’t worry,” Dustin says while he slides in next to Eddie, “We all gave him a warning before she got here. Plus, he’s got two girls on his radar right now that he’s trying to take home if he doesn’t get too drunk – but y’know, we’re banking on the getting too drunk part.” 

“Always banking on the getting too drunk part,” Gareth laughs. 

The night continues on, people coming and going, getting up to dance, getting new drinks. He watches you blend in seamlessly, swaying with Tatianna at the bar while you wait for a rum and coke for you and water for him. He still has to drive home after all. 

“What do you know about this song?” Tatianna laughs while Victoria Monet’s Coastin’ booms over the speakers. You both walk back over, two stepping in time until Gareth pulls Tatianna in tight to him, rocking back and forth with each other and stealing kisses. 

Eddie watches you approach him while you lipsync the words playfully, hips swaying in in time with the beat. 

‘Think of the waaaays, The ways I wanna give you this ass, Just how you liiiiike, Feel like a Thursday how I’m throwin’ it back.’ “The ways you wanna give me this ass, huh?” he smirks, eyes flitting over you while he takes the water yor offer him. You keep up with your sway, pressing up close to him – you look up with a fake unamused quirk of your brow and he knows you’re about to say something bitchy that’ll make him fall for you even harder. “I don’t think you could handle it,” you flirt. 

“You know something?” he starts, putting his water on the table of the booth, catching you before you can sit down, “I think I can handle you just fine.” You burn at his words, a shy grin pulling at your lips when he sits down at the edge of the bench next to Nancy and across from Steve and Robin. It’s fun to flirt with you like this, right on the precipice of something a little dirty. He wants you so bad and if he knows women as well as he thinks he does, he knows you want him so bad, too.  He pats his thigh, encouraging you to sit on his lap. You hesitate at first but he nods encouragingly, a silent Please, it’s okay. You settle in, the table high enough that both sets of your thighs fit under the table. He takes a breath before letting his hands settle on your skin, imagining what it might be like when he gets to put his hands on all of it. 

Everyone banking on Steve getting too drunk to take someone home was right, him and Robin were already in their codependent best friend phase of the night where they only want to hang out with each other, hands cupped tight on the table. You’re talking to Robin about a game that’s like Sims but 8-bit – 

“It’s called Unpacking and it’s so cute, you basically unpack a house or a room and you learn more about the person’s story by unpacking their boxes – sort of like Sims but with actual feelings that you don’t have to make up,” you enthuse. 

“Is it on Steam?” she asks, “I’ll literally buy it right now.” 

“We’re partying, Rob, don’t play a dumb game,” Steve whines. 

“She’s not gonna play it right now, Steve,” Nancy chides, “She’s gonna play it later. Don’t worry, we all know tonight is about you.” 

Lucas comes over to the table looking aggravated, Max grinning next to him in a smile that Eddie knows too well. Lucas lost a bet and has to pay up, Eddie wonders what they bet on this time. 

“Why does your Dragon’s Lair score have to be so fucking high? Can you literally let anyone have anything?” Lucas huffs. 

“Don’t be so sad, Sinclair – you can always try to beat Red’s score,” Eddie shrugs, smirking smugly at the pair. 

“She’s 250 points behind you, and you’re both like, seven thousand points ahead of everyone else,” he huffs. 

“What’d’you owe her this time?” he asks. 

“I can’t even tell you out loud,” he sighs. Max cackles, offering her hand and leading him back over to the Party at the bar, fingers laced with each other while they talk. Eddie adjusts under you, groin shifting under your ass by accident but he savors how delicious it feels to have you on top of him like this. 

“Are there any other games in there that you have a high score on?” you ask, breath hitching slightly while his hands coast teasingly over your bare skin under the table. Your posture straightens when his fingers glide up your inner thigh, brushing his fingertips past the hem of your skirt. You like that, he thinks, your body language tells him all he needs to know to keep going. 

“The Dracula pinball machine,” he replies confidently. 

“I’m gonna go beat it,” you grin up at him. 

“Oh yeah?” he asks, hand sliding off your thigh when you get up to head to the arcade room,  “You even know how to play?” 

“You can show me,” you shrug. He doesn’t really have to show you, pinball is pretty self explanatory, but he doesn’t want to give up a chance to have you alone. He leads you to the machine, pointing out where you want the ball to hit for the best chance at extra points. The music on the sound system is loud and the machine’s music matches it so he has to get close to your ear to explain. 

“Do you think I don’t really know how to play or do you just wanna get close to me?” you ask, turning your head to look at him while he chin hooks over your shoulder. “You caught me,” he blushes, hand resting on your hip while he fills the gap between your back and his chest, “I’m sure you’re gonna do just fine.” 

And you do, in fact, you’re really fucking good at pinball and he’s almost mad about it. “Where did you learn to do this?” he asks after you rack up nearly three fourths of his high score in one go, the ball just narrowly missing the lever before sinking down to be propelled again. 

“Summers on the boardwalk in New Hampshire,” you grin, “My uncle lives over there so we go visit him every year. Played one pinball machine every summer – my high score still stands, like, eleven years later.” “That’s so hot to me, oh my god,” he laughs while you get the next ball rolling onto the board. You lean forward, hips jutting out against him while you really get into it, concentrating hard. Eddie’s breath hitches when you slowly move your hips against him, so slow that he’s not sure if you’re doing it on purpose or not.  Rihanna’s Work starts over the speakers and  that’s when he knows it’s on purpose. Your movement’s pick up a little, lost in the game and in the beat. You’re a good dancer and that makes his mind wander to other things you might be good at. Your fingers work quick on either side of the machine, lights flashes against both of your faces while you keep trying to win and he keeps trying to not pull your skirt up in the middle of Barcade. 

While the song continues, he stops paying attention to you playing, so caught up in how your waist winds and ass bounces against him that he doesn’t realize you aren’t even playing any more. His hips grind slowly back against you, one hand on your lower back, the other gripping your hip to keep you in position. This isn’t new territory for him, pulled into clubs by Tati and Gare, Robin and Steve, everyone else, from the moment things opened back up again in Indiana. When you look back at him he short circuits at first, but he knows you’re surprised he can dance like this. Maybe you forgot, but he does teach Music Theory – rhythm is kind of his whole thing. Of course he has it.  

Your hips roll, making your ass run painstakingly slow and firm over his hardening cock. A groan gets stuck in his throat, reaching out to your shoulder to pull you up right again with your back against his chest. 

“You like bein’ a tease?” he asks, voice deep and daunting. 

“Just getting you back for what you did under the table,” you say matter-of-factly, turning around to face him with your butt leaning against the machine, “You’re not the only one here who knows how to be a slut.” “Also, I beat you,” you grin. 

“Looks like you did,” he says, eyes passing yours to look at the new high score glowing on the outdated screen. 

“Do I win a prize?” 

“M’sure I can think of something,” he murmurs, lips pressing against yours while both of your eyes flutter closed. He takes your hand, leading you to the dark corner close by, both of you hidden by the now defunct change machine to press you up against the wall. “What do you think you deserve?” he purrs before catching your mouth in his again. His kiss is a little sloppy, a little needy, it’s the four shots of Jameson. Not too drunk to drive, but buzzed enough that he doesn’t care about his kissing technique, he just wants to taste you. “Oh, it’s like that?” you giggle mischievously, “I don’t think we can do what I think I deserve in a public place.” 

“Hmm, okay, not into exhibitionism I guess,” he huffs a laugh while his kisses trail to your neck, knee slotting between your legs where you eagerly press up against him. He feels one of your hands fall into his hair, making his assault on the crook of your neck more intense when you give it a slight pull. “Kiss me,” you whine softly. “M’sorry, sorry,” he smirks, meeting your lips again, “You just smell really good, I like being in there.” “You’re a really good –” Kiss. “Mmm--kisser.” “Thanks, sugar, you’re –” Kiss. “Not so bad your –” Kiss. “Mmm shit – yourself.”  He can barely think like this, so close to you but not close enough. Hands on your waist and hips to guide you against part of his thigh while a little whine pulls out of you. He can’t hold off much longer, feeling his pants grow unbearably tight. 

“Let’s get out of here,” he mumbles against your jaw, a satisfied smile blooms on his face when you roll your hips against his knee again. 

“You don’t wanna hear everyone drunkenly sing Steve happy – oh, mmm – happy birthday?” you pant out while he presses kisses at the curve of your jaw back to your mouth. His hand entwines with the hair at the nape of your neck, giving you a soft tug to keep your head in place. 

“The only thing I wanna hear right now,” he purrs in your ear, “Is what you sound like when I’m making you cum.” 

The ride home is quick, barely saying goodbyes while he pulled you through the crowds building at the bar and paid the tab. Gareth shot him a wink as they left, tossing you both a wave but neither of you could think of anything else except each other. 

He dropped his keys twice trying to get in the door of his first floor apartment, “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” you smile, “Just breathe. I’m still gonna be here.” 

The door opens and he takes a millisecond to rip your coat off and kick off his shoes, instructing you to kick off your sneakers or Tati would likely emerge from the walls and kill you both for walking into the house with your outside shoes on. His lips immediately attach to yours. There’s no time to waste for him, pulling you over to the couch and plopping down with an excited puff of breath. “C’mere baby,” he beckons you over with two fingers, grinning up at you while you climb over his lap to straddle him. His kiss is searing, hands exploring you with abandon, all the ways he’s been thinking about touching you were now fair play. No one here to see either of you, no one around to interrupt. You can feel how hard he is under his dress pants, the material leaves little to the imagination. The gentle curve of it, its thickness, the length, all pressing up against you with every mutual roll of your hips. 

You choke out a whimper when it hits just right up against your clothed slit. Eddie looks up at you mischievously, greedily sucking on your neck for a moment before catching your gaze a little.

“That’s all it takes? Just pushing my hips up like that?” he purrs, rolling them up again slowly, “Is that what you want?”

“Uh-huh,” you breathe. He bites at the skin on your chest, not hard enough to hurt. He grips and grabs you but not hard enough to bruise. He’s testing the waters, seeing what you like and how you like it. His hands travel down past your hips, gripping the fat of your ass.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans into your mouth, exploring you more, his palms flattening against your skirt while it rides up, the curve of your cheeks warm in his hands. 

“Finally got to grab it the way you wanted to?” you tease between breaths. 

“Mhmm,” he groans, “Now I just gotta smack it around.” 

You take his lower lip between your teeth, making his cock twitch when you let it go to click back against his gums. 

“Ooh, you wanna spank me?” you laugh into your next kiss. His hand reaches up to pull at your waist, pushing you tighter up against him. His fingers graze between your legs from behind while your head falls back in a breathy gasp. 

“Do you want me to spank you?” he asks, brows raised inquisitively.  

“Maybe not tonight,” you shrug with a smirk, hips winding over him in a way that makes him really feel you. He growls when you do it, hands guiding your hips to do it again, “Maybe only when I’ve been bad.” 

“Jus’lemme know,” he grumbles, pupils taking over the brown in his eyes, “So I can  — mmm, shit — teach ya a lesson.” 

“Next time,” you huff into his next kiss. He manhandles you so that your back is to the cushions and throw pillows, switching your positions so that he’s on top.

“Next time,” he nods, pulling your sweatshirt off and dropping it to the floor, “But since you’re so good, it only makes sense that you get a reward, right?” 

“I did beat you at pinball, so…” you grin. He grins back, kissing your neck hungrily, slotting his knee between your legs like he did at the bar. 

“You did beat me at pinball,” he nods, a soft growl brewing in his chest when he feels you start to grind against him. Insatiable, he thinks, Greedy girl. But he doesn’t know if he can say that to you yet. He doesn’t know, all the way, what you like. He feels his heart hammer in his chest at the fear of realizing it – you aren’t Chrissy. What if he was only good because Chrissy thought so? What if he wasn’t actually – 

“Oh!” you squeak out, hand reaching out to grip his bicep. 

“Are you okay?” he asks, pulling away from your neck to look at you, big brown eyes blown with nerves. 

“Y-yeah that’s just…where you’re kissing…that’s a spot for me,” you admit bashfully, unable to look at him. 

“Sweetheart,” he shakes his head with a knowing smirk, “Shouldn’t’ve told me that.” 

A kiss on the lips is his only consolation to you before he goes back to your neck, tongue trailing down to its last spot where he parks his teeth and lips. You like that. He hears you like it. And fucking God is it good to hear you like this, to hear you in person, moaning and whining in his ear just from kissing and sucking this spot on your neck. 

“Eddie…” you breathe, high pitched and desperate, hips still pressing against his knee for friction. He can’t help but go back to your lips, but before he does, he peeks to see the marks he left behind. 

Lips become neck, neck becomes chest, chest becomes stomach, stomach becomes hips, and before you know it he’s on his knees on the rug in front of you. Eddie’s eyes find yours when he’s kneeling between your legs, the center of your thighs looking him in the face. He places a kissing on the inside of your knee, gentle and soft. 

He opens his mouth to ask, but you nearly read his mind, tugging up the hem of your skirt over your thick thighs. He helps, pushing the fabric up over your hips and ass so he gets another chance to touch and feel you. Once he settles back down he takes a breath, smiling up at you while he readjusts your legs to open a little wider, mouth making contact with your skin soon after. His lips capture the fat of your inner thigh, traveling down in passionate kisses, like your skin is divinity that he’s found for the first time. 

“You’re so soft,” he whispers, lips ghosting over your underwear to reach the top of your other knee, planting a kiss there too. 

“Thank you,” you breathe out. He lets out a low, teasing giggle at the state of you, head lolling back on the couch while he kisses the inside of one thigh and runs his hand over the outside of the other. His kisses stop and he looks up at you from between your legs, big brown eyes begging you to let him in. A ringed finger teases over the gusset of your underwear, the way you bite your lip gives him the approval to keep going. His slides your panties off, run of the mill black cheeky cut cotton that he wished he could’ve stripped you down to. Just to see that ass swallowing them, to see the way they sat on the curves of your hips. 

“You nervous?” he asks with a smile while your legs close, your underwear placed on the floor next to your shirt.

“A little,” you giggle. 

“Don’t be nervous, baby,” he coos, hands cupping under your knees to spread your legs again, “Just gonna make you feel good.” 

He sighs when your legs open up for him, already wet and puffy, you’d been thinking about this all night. Eddie nips softly at your inner thigh again before he lets his lips linger over your folds. You squirm your hips closer to him, a whine leaking out of your mouth. 

“Okay, okay,” he laughs, “I won’t tease you, I’m sorry.” 

But he’s lying. Leaning in to get close, only to ghost a breath over your clit. Fingers sliding to your slick lips to separate them slightly for more access to you. He pauses, leaning back away from your pussy and looks up at you quizzically.

“Actually, should I put on Hey Mr. DJ to set the mood? Since it’s so fucknasty…” gesturing his thumb towards the sound system on the other side of the room. You let out a mix of a laugh and a groan while his kisses coast on your thighs again.

“You said you wouldn’t teaaaasssseeee-oh my God,” you moan out when his mouth meets your clit without warning, soft, slow sucks and licks. 

“You like that, sugar?” he asks, voice dropping down to a bassy gravel. 

You nod feverishly, “Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” 

“Mmm, don’t stop?” he asks, tongue gliding from your entrance to your clit. 

“Please,” you gasp, hand reaching out to run through his hair, bangs pushing back to reveal the soft lines of his forehead. 

“Well you’re asking so nice, seems a little mean to keep you waiting,” he coos, fingers replacing his mouth while he talks, “But I thought you liked it when I was a little mean.” 

“Don’t be mean, Ed,” you pout. 

“Okay, I won’t be mean,” he smiles, opening your legs a little wider. He’s confident about his skills here, Chris loved getting eaten out so he dedicated a lot of time to getting it right. It helped that he loved going down, watching his partner gasp and whine while he serves her on his knees. Feeling the tug on his hair when he’s doing it right, making her feel good. The press of her hand to push him closer to her when she’s getting close, giving it to her over and over again. 

“Oh fuck, Ed — oh my god, baby,” you mewl, hips grinding up against his mouth. He smirks into the next stripe of his tongue, latching onto your clit to suck softly while his fingers press against your entrance. His eyes gaze up at you, your own going glassy while you look down at him. 

“I like when you look at me like that,” he confesses quietly, mouth returning to its actions immediately. He keeps his eyes on you while his first finger pushes in, he groans at the feeling — snug, warm, wet. He drags out slowly, a high pitched moan escaping you when he pushes back in with little resistance. His head moves with his mouth, tongue laving over your clit, lips pursing over it when he feels your pulse over his finger. 

“You’re so good — fuck — you’re so good at this,” you sigh. The praise runs down his chest and along his spine, he moans gratefully into his next kiss against you. He stripes his tongue again, using his other hand to keep your lips spread for more access. Your thighs twitch while he goes back to soft deliberate sucking, alternating between that and gentle fluttering flicks from the tip of his tongue. 

“That’s good for you?” he mumbles. 

“You’re so good for me,” you whisper back, gripping his hair hard when he pushes his second finger in, “Just…unhm, just like that.” 

He keeps a steady pace with his fingers, evidence of his skill coating them while he does. He wants to drag this out a while, take his time with you like he said he would. He breaks his mouth away for a moment to really look at you, just in your bra and skirt. His heart skips a beat, breath caught in his throat. You’re so beautiful, he thinks. Too afraid to say it outloud. What if you don’t like that while you have sex? You said you like when he was a little mean, does that mean he should be mean all the time? 

“Earth to Ed…” he hears you say, your hand waving in his face. He looks back up at you, startled, “You okay? You stopped and sort of just…stared for a second.” 

“Oh my god, I’m sorry,” he laughs to himself, taking his fingers away to massage the inside of your thighs with both hands, “Just got caught up staring at you.” 

“Ew,” you giggle with a smile, “You think I’m pretty or somethin’?” 

Eddie leans up between your legs on the couch where you come down to meet him, noses inches apart, “Well I don’t wanna be too forward…” 

“You’re literally eating me out, you can’t get any more forward,” you both laugh at the ridiculousness of it. Of both being shaky and shy even this far into the game. 

“Like I was saying — I don’t wanna be too forward, but I think you’re honestly so beautiful,” he blushes bashfully, looking down so all you can see are his full lashes, “And I didn’t wanna be corny and say it while I’m like, neck deep in your pussy.”

“That’s very sweet, baby.” You run your hand through his hair, pushing back one side when he looks up at you again. Baby. He likes when you call him that. He likes when you call him baby. He’s excited for you to call him other names like pretty boy, and babe, and honey. He wants to hear ‘em all. He wants you to spend the night so he can make you breakfast in the morning — for like…ever. You kiss him and he shudders, cock jumping in his slacks for a hint of attention — but he has a job to finish. 

“You’re very sweet,” he says, nuzzling your nose before kissing your cheek, then your jawline, your neck, your chest, down and further down until he’s between your legs again — he doesn’t tease this time. He licks at your entrance, replacing his fingers with his tongue to lap up what you have for him. Your thighs tremble he trails back up, swirling his tongue over your clit when his fingers snugly sink back inside you. 

“Eddie…” 

“You gonna cum for me?” he asks, voice smokey and deep. He lets his fingers search inside you for your g-spot, grinning when he finds it. Your moan is loud when he massages it, hips pushing down into the couch cushions, head thrown back while you grind against him. 

“M’so close,” you huff, “That feels so good, please don’t stop. Don’tstopdon’tstop.” 

He grunts, feeling your thighs jump while he keeps up his pace. His tongue gets sloppy with it, wet and filthy, pooling spit out of his mouth in droves to mix with your slick. He fills you with a third finger, legs parting further again while you huff into the stretch. 

“Ooh, you can really take it, baby,” he encourages, “Look at you takin’ all these fingers.” He glides the flat of his tongue over you once before leaning back to watch you. The pads of his fingers press in slow circles against your g-spot again, smirking when your eyes roll back. 

“M’gonna cum…oh shit  — oh fuck Ed I’m g.. — ohfuck — fuckfuckfuck — mmm-ah!” Your hips jump, lifting off the couch, writhing to pull away while you feel your orgasm rush rapidly to its peak. 

“Thaaaat’s it,” he smiles, mouth returning home to its place latched over you. He holds your hips down with his free hand, eyes fluttering closed while he continues. A slight flit of his tongue right as he pumps his fingers in puts stars in your eyes, thighs snapping closed on either side of his head — exactly what he wanted.

“Ohmygodohmygodohmygod,” you chant with strained, shaking vocal chords, tears pricking your eyes. Eddie groans when he feels your walls clench down hard over his fingers, flooding over him down his hand. You hiss while he keeps going, fingers easing out of you but tongue licking up as much as he can while you come down in shivers. 

“You okay?” he asks, when your thighs release him. You reach for his hand, still covered in your juices and pull it toward you — but he knows your game. He knows you’re gonna lick it off and give him those eyes — so he pulls his wrist away, “Oh, no baby.”  

Eddie delicately puts his fingers in his mouth, eyes on yours with a glint of satisfaction, and gently sucks them clean instead. 

“I don’t like to waste it, sugar,” he croons, “I can make you something if you’re hungry.” 

His sexy act breaks when you roll your eyes at him, clearly flustered by his antics in your post orgasm glow. He snickers when he stands up, leaning down to peck you with your arousal still smeared on his mouth and chin. 

“Don’t laugh at me,” you pout. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pouts back. A peck turns to a kiss, a kiss to something passionate. 

“Why don’t I go get cleaned up,” he starts, before catching you in another kiss.

“You should pee since that’s the smart thing to do before and after,” he presses a kiss to your neck.

“And then I’ll take you to bed,” he murmurs huskily, “How’s that?” 

“That’s really nice,” you rasp back, turning so that you’re nose to nose, “But I am a little hungry now that you said that.” 

“You’re funny,” he smiles, another kiss, “I’ll get us a snack and then I’ll take you to bed, is that better?” 

“Much better.”  

Eddie passes you your panties and shirt, and points out where the bathroom is down the hall. While you traipse along, he opens the fridge, taking out the tiramisu he got as dessert with his takeout last night but didn’t get around to eating. He slices the generous cut in half, gently placing it on two tea plates and grabbing two forks. 

“Do you like tiramisu?” he asks when he hears your socked feet pad into the kitchen. 

“I do. My mom’s is the best actually,” you brag. He turns around to see you, your bright smile, your refreshed face. 

“Will you still eat it if it’s not your mom’s?” he asks, offering you the plate. 

“Yes, of course,” you nod, taking both plates out of his hands and placing them on the table, “But first I gotta –” 

Eddie’s taken aback by the kiss, but you don’t notice. He’s swift at the pick up, matching your pace expertly and hoisting you up onto the counter with surprising ease. He grunts when you pull him forward between your legs by the belt loops because he knows you’re trying to fuck just as much as he is. 

“Baby…” he starts, regretfully breaking away, “Are you hungry or not?” 

You don’t answer at first, you just look at him and kiss him again. When you pull away, your gaze lingers. Fear coasts icily over his chest when you almost look forlorn. 

“Shit…” you whisper, shoulders drooping. 

“Wh-what? What is it?” he asks, hands getting clammy where they rest on your thighs.

“I…” you take a deep breath, it shakes when you exhale, “I really fucking like you.” 

He smiles, but he knows why this is your response, why you look like this, why your shoulders sulk — because he’s also there, “Does that make you scared?” 

You nod, but instead of going in to kiss you again he pulls you close, smooching your cheek before leaning your head on his shoulder. 

“It’s okay that you’re scared,” he murmurs, “But if it’s any consolation…”

“I really fucking like you, too.” 

When you kiss again, he’s overwhelmed. 

“Fuck the tiramisu,” you breathe, “Let’s just —.” 

“Mhm,” he breathes back, hoisting you off the counter, balancing you on his hips, “I fucking need you.” 

Jingle. Click. Creak. 

“HONEY, WE’RE HOME!” calls the voice of a sloshed Steve Harrington, from the front door, “Put your clothes on, sluts.” 

But it’s not just Steve, it’s the whole party — the group filing into the living room while you hurriedly slide down Eddie’s form. Tatianna and Gareth follow in after everyone gets their shoes off, laughing and joking with Robin and Dustin while they stumble through the door. They halt when they catch Eddie’s expression from the other room, a stare so cold it could freeze them both. ‘I’m so sorry,’ Gareth mouths, realizing with deep regret what they’ve interrupted. Tatianna makes her way over, making a face of pure guilt when she makes it into the kitchen. 

“So here’s the thing, my phone died and Steve was using Gareth’s phone to change the music and I forgot to text you,” she explains to the both of you, “I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s seriously okay,” you laugh, “Please don’t feel bad. It’s you and Gareth’s apartment, too.” 

“Are you mad at me?” Tati pouts at Eddie, who could not stay mad at Tati for even a second. 

He puffs a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms, “No, no, I’m not mad at you. It’s okay.” 

“Okay,” she smiles, opening her arms for a hug which he obliges without question, “Gare’s sorry too, but unfortunately he’s busy babysitting Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum with Nance.”  Eddie looks down at you when he lets go of Tatianna, reaching his hand out to rub your back, “She means Robin and Steve.” 

“I figured,” you smile. Tatianna makes her exit and you’re both alone in the kitchen again. 

“I’m sorry,” Eddie offers, using the leverage of his hand on your back to pull you in close to him. 

“What, why? There’s nothing to be sorry for,” you furrow your brow, forearms leaning up the length of his chest. The opening bass of Dua Lipa’s One Kiss starts to thump from the soundsystem in the living room into the kitchen, along with Steve’s passionate This is my favorite fucking song, holy shit. 

“Everything got ruined,” he frowns, “I’m like, kind of embarrassed.” 

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you urge, pulling him a little closer to give him a reassuring kiss, “There’s always next time. I’m not goin’ anywhere.” 

“No?” he asks, leaning his forehead against yours, “You’re stayin’ right here?” 

“Well, until I have to go to home,” you shrug. The music gets a little louder and Eddie throws his disappointment to the wind. There is always next time. For now, he has you here in his kitchen, lips on yours, hands on your cheeks, the steady thump of the beat of his heart. And of course, Steve drunk crying to Robin in the living room – You’re literally my best fucking friend. You’re my best fucking friend Rob, I love you so much. 

Eddie giggles against your mouth at the sound, an ache caught in his chest. He really fucking likes you. 

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things s4 #eddie munson x y/n

[tinycozycomfort]

moon, a hole of light

pairing: qz!joel miller x f!reader

day one of @pascalisbaby and i's joeltober: dacryphilia -> read her day one here

summary: It makes you feel like a toy, like some misused stuffed animal with loose seams and fur that’s been rubbed to the weft. Your use brings him comfort, his comfort brings you hurt.

warnings/tags: dacryphilia, unprotected piv, substance abuse (joel), age gap (joel is 46 [~10 yrs post outbreak]), reader is not), yearning, dom/sub dynamics, smidge of underwear play, pet names (honey, sweetheart, etc), joel is mean

word count: 2.4k

rating: explicit! 18+ only, mdni

a/n: i'm trying so hard to shorten things so forgive me as i navigate this learning curve.

main masterlist

A lot of life is weeping. 

In joy. In sorrow. In fury so poignant it makes you wilt. Your body furls in the collapse—u-shaped shoulders that guard your insides, the lock of hard elbows into thigh. 

It stings to feel so little, so vulnerable—to let anyone see how ugly emotion’s face can be—yet you let it happen, knowing that this is the only thing that separates you from the rest of them; they’ve spilled out all they had, hollow in the center after nearly a decade of ‘justified action’. 

So you cry, and you sob, and you don’t care for their uncomfortable shifting and curled lips. Tess gives her best in the way of comfort, not letting a scoff slip as much when she can help it. Tommy will at least leave the room. 

But Joel—Joel will watch. Joel will encourage.

He’s taken the liberty of cycling himself through every shape your hurt takes, the tears pouring over for all of his near-misses and his inability to care for you how he’s meant to. You see the way he grins to find that you cry when you’re happy to see him the same way you do when he insists he should leave. 

Part of you thinks he likes it—pushing you to react and then having something to show for it. You think he especially likes when it causes you pain. You cry longer in those moments, working though fits of frustration while he kneels at your feet and watches your face sprout tears like light rain. 

He pets you through it—even when he’d been the one to kick you down in the first place—to tell you you were good for sticking around, for being brave enough to have faith in him. 

He enjoys having something to come back to, and wounding you is no obstacle in the pursuit of feeling needed. 

It makes you feel like a toy, like some mis-used stuffed animal with loose seams and fur that’s been rubbed to the weft. Your use brings him comfort, his comfort brings you hurt.

You know he’s gearing up for another slip-away with the swift shift to kindness; Friday night he caresses you, soothes the ache of something not yet felt, to ease his exit. All pretty words and the affection he so desperately wants to hide, whispered promises of how much better he can be, how he can give you everything you deserve.

Come Saturday morning, you’re discarded. 

He’s gone again on another outing, one he persuaded Tommy into joining—if the silence is any indication—even though he needs nothing; that in itself makes you even more sure it has everything to do with wanting. The burn, the desire, is something you see so clearly in the glaze he gets on later nights, the crinkle of soft plastic that trickles out through the open bathroom door. He swears it’s nothing—even to Tess, when she’s around—that he’s not on anything. He throws any excuse he can muster; it’s the wounds and the healing and the aging that make him stumble even in the lit apartment.

Everyone knows what’s actually going on, why the trips outside the QZ are becoming more frequent. It doesn’t get lost on you all the times Tommy complains of Joel disappearing to meet more than one mysterious, unarranged contact who asked for privacy—who wanted Joel alone. 

Whatever it is he’s buying keeps him numb, so Tommy lets it slide, and Tess is apathetic towards Joel for reasons you aren’t too willing to know about. You’ve only tagged along so recently, so maybe they pity you, or they feel better about throwing Joel onto someone else—to ruin another thing if only to feel better about having been ruined. 

You cry through the weekend in long streams, worried for him, until the hot tears pool and curl the cotton of your t-shirt—forever wet. You stay laid out on the bumpy sofa cushions for hours before your back feels just as knotted and you have to relocate to the bed, only rising again to shower and half-eat and sulk, until you’re too weak to keep track of the seconds.

When he swings in on Monday night, boots knocking as he raises them up on the rack by the door, you’re at the tail-end of another bout, cheeks damp and chest catching where it’s pinned by your shirt against the bed. 

Joel walks into the room like he’s done nothing wrong. He walks in alone. 

“Where’s Tommy?” you ask, but he ignores you.

Instead, he comes to you with tattered hands, fresh bruises and torn skin, and tugs you up by the creases under your shoulders so you’re seated, kneeling by the bed to level himself with the picture he’s come to love. 

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, words slow, “What are all those tears for? Me?” 

You huff out a few shaky breaths to steady yourself, “Where’s Tommy?”

He sighs, long and hard and uneven, “He left. Why the fuck does it matter?” 

He peers up so you’re forced to face him and you can see it now, the film of wet that clouds his eyes, sticky lashes and deep creases of exhaustion purpling the skin where they brush. 

“Why did he leave? Because you’re high? It’s too late for him to be out there.”

You already know he didn’t hear anything past the accusation, brought to a boil at the mention of another one of his failures. He gathers up the soft flesh of your cheek in his hand, the blunt curve of his nails digging in to find teeth through the skin. He grips tight to let you know of his anger—that he could easily wring the life out of you like water. 

“You’re getting real brave for someone who sits and waits for me like a dog.” 

Fire prickles in the tips of your fingers, stretches across the top of your chest in humiliation. You can hear the weight of his words even through his gentle slur, like he means it, twisting away as best you can to speak, “Is that really what you think this is?”

He’s laughing before you even get it all out, the corner of his lips perked up on one side, “No one forced you to, and I certainly don’t remember asking.”

You shove at him then, with force, your hands bending back enough to pinch when he doesn’t budge. He leans into you instead, a challenge. 

There’s barely time to choose before he does for you, gathering up your wrists in one hand, the one around your jaw tightening. 

So close now, you get a better look at him—his hair stuck to his forehead, cheeks flushed red but with paler lips. His eyes are round, pupils cartoonish and wide. He’s still so pretty, even when dulled by the sheen of his high. 

He heaves onto you, shy of livid, and you start to feel like you’re suffocating under his stifling heat, billowing out from where he’s damp with sweat under his denim shirt. The pills work fast, and for longer than they should, so you can tell he’d spent the peak of his high elsewhere, but he’s on a jagged edge of almost coherent.

You slide your thighs together at the whole of him, so strong and honest and invested in you—negative or not—something you usually find him being incapable of. He sees it.  

“Oh, but you do it because you like it, don’t you? Couldn’t wait ‘til I came back. Little thing just needs some attention, hm?”

“Joel, I’m serious. Are you high right now? Where’s your brother?”

Joel wedges a thigh up under the crease of your knee, uses the grip he has on your body as leverage to move you further up the bed, climbing up with you pushing himself into the cradle of your body on the way.

“Please. You don’t give a fuck about Tommy,” he snaps, releasing and depositing you so he can make work of your shorts and the buckle holding himself back, “He’s not going to bother us, if that’s what you’re asking.” 

You whine as he releases himself, can’t help how you grow wet between your legs, heart throbbing in your throat. He’s not wrong, as mean as he is how he puts it—-you’d die for him if it meant he’d look at you. If you could have him to yourself.

His cock swings free as he shoves his jeans down only enough to be out of the way, not bothering to remove your thin strip of underwear once your bottoms are tugged off. He’s hard for you, another flattery that sends shivers down your spine, the feeling of arousal flashing along your whole body—fingers folding and ankle rolling. You’re excited for him, and this display of joy doesn’t please him as much. 

“I didn’t say it was a good thing. You’re pathetic,” he sucks his teeth, hooking a finger in the cotton across your seam, peeling it away from where it's slicked down, knuckle dipping in the place you’re pooling, “But it’s cute. You’re still young enough to have hope.”

He strings the gusset up and away, presses his length against your cunt before replacing it, trapping himself.

“It’s okay that you love me, sweetheart. Don’t be embarrassed. Hang onto that. It might work out for you some day.” 

“But not with you,” you whisper, half an offense and half an admission of awareness—he doesn’t love you, hasn’t and can’t and won’t, but you’re willing to take what you can get.

“Cry about it.” 

Joel grinds his cock against the wet slip of your cunt in short, tight motions to better catch against you, soaking himself. He presses three fingers against the base of it like a vacuum, holding himself between the two of you, the scalloped edge of your underwear twisting when they roll over his skin. The hard of him on your clit makes you gasp, and his mouth hangs open in a soundless laugh. 

And you are crying, sooner than you thought, barely registering it until you feel it falling into the cup of your collarbone, a steady stream that barely burns brighter than the flare in your core. 

“You really should be more careful with that little heart of yours. Gonna hurt yourself.” He slides his hand further up his cock to the tip, releasing the pressure and guiding himself to your center. Joel slides himself in to the hilt, leaning down on one forearm to hold himself up. 

With his unoccupied hand, he brushes the flesh of your cheek, following its path with kisses—the warning is a genuine one, followed by no punchline or remark, the first time tonight where he’s actually tried to resonate with the predicament he’s put you both in. Earnest. 

The give and take of him, flowing freely between unrelenting harshness and the soft comfort of his reassurance should be nauseating, but it shines a beam of light behind your eyes when you close them, white-hot and blinding. You’re sobbing enough to wonder how you haven’t stopped; you can feel your own wetness when he rubs down your chest with his mouth, gathered up from his mapping of your face. 

Joel’s knee digs into your side as he hikes you up on his hip, eliminating even the air between your bodies, sweat-soaked and glued together. He’s pushing himself into a place you’ve often found unconsidered, that spongy spot at the back that marks the beginning of your womb. The very center of you, he’s reached, and you start to move in an act of self-preservation, unsure whether you want him to continue forward or exit. You’re mumbling something about Joel, yes-too much-don’t stop-wait-please don’t stop and when he leans back he’s beaming at you, the point of his canines shining in the dim light of the room. 

He looks dangerous, like the man you’ve seen hobbling and flighty and inebriated—only ever close to anger—was just the very surface. This is the man that hunted men—that sought conquest and destroyed lives. He’s done the same to you, you realize, and now your being is nestled within the palm of his hand, pliable and willing and fully at his disposal. 

You keen for him, thin and high in the channel of your throat, and he pinches your face, sealing his mouth over yours to swallow it. He’s breathing hard into you, the movement of his hips growing shaky, rhythm breaking down a half-step so that you're just swaying against the bed under his weight in little jolts. 

“Joel, please. I want to make you come.”

“Keep crying for me just like that and I will. Can you do that?” 

You’re so close, the anticipation feeling like warm sand sliding under your fingertips. Joel wrestles a hand into the side of your hip where it’s tightly pressed to his, finding your clit with the pad of his thumb. Your babbling continues, Yes, I promise, I promise, and Joel nods, relenting. 

He presses hard against the nub, and shoves himself in that much further, and you start to come undone beneath him, the waves of pleasure coursing through to the ends of your limbs.

He’s still moving above you, talking over you—good girl, good girl—removing his hand so as to not overstimulate you before bringing it up to brush his knuckles over the hinge of your jaw, so careful even as he hammers into you, “So sad, honey. Poor thing.” 

You’re still caught up in your own rambling, but you tip your head yes and he picks up his pace again, chasing his own end, “Say it for me. Can’t do it unless you say.” His voice is a little warbled, and you can tell he’s crumbling. 

“Please. Come inside me, Joel.”

Joel grunts, the noise catching in his mouth like a hiccup, overtaken with the pleasure of your permission. The heat of him spreading inside your body has your legs shaking and cunt pulsing in response.

You fight to catch your breath, running a hand over your face to snap back into focus.

He falls over to lay on his side, still connected to you, dragging you over with him. He hides his face in the fold of your neck, knocking his forehead into your throat. 

“Really sweet of you to wait, honey,” he breathes, sliding out of you with a long drag, a thread of wet spooling out in his wake, “Now get the fuck out.”

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #pedro pascal characters #the last of us fanfiction #tlou fanfiction #joel miller/reader #joel miller fic #kinktober 2023 #kinktober

[phoneuserhana333]

.°˖✧ neighbor!doctor!abby / neighbor!producer!reader headcanons .°˖✧

tags: enemies to friends to lovers, cocky!yn/annoyed!abby, mutual pining, dumb lesbians, unresolved tension, more to be added.

PART2 — PART3 — NSFWHC — N(SFW)HC

• after finishing med school, abby got a job at her dad’s private clinic outside of new york, which she quit after working there for a year

• during college, she was a victim of horrible gossip; everybody thought that she had it easy because of her dad being one of the best doctors in new york (to be fair, she was more privileged than other students because of this, but she would never admit it)

• and because of the desire to prove herself, she quit her “safe” job to go to work at the ER in the city to prove that she isn’t just somebody’s spoiled daughter who happened to be in the medical field

• she moved out closer to manhattan because of her new job, renting out a small brick red townhouse in a row of other copy-pasted houses, filling the shelves with books and the kitchen with spices. it was truly her home, which was something she took pride in.

• abby’s first interaction with her neighborhood critters went stellar; she met margaret, an old lady who lived across the street with her tortoiseshell cats clara and mima. margaret and abby grew close and she would go over to her house to have tea every saturday.

• abby’s second interaction with her neighbors however… didn’t go that as well as she thought it would

• she had some sense of what her next door neighbor was like- or at least she thought she did

• music would be blasting every night, approximately from 9pm to 6am- when she left for work. abby concluded that her neighbor was either a musician, a nepotism baby (pot calling the kettle black) or just insane.

• some days, her neighbor would be playing piano, guitar or banging on drums. on tuesdays, abby could hear her sing (“she’s screeching like a banshee manny, it’s like- 2:35am! wha- no, she doesn’t sound good, you’re just hearing things!”, she would complain to her friends) and on fridays, her mysterious musician neighbor held parties

• abby tired to be patient, but her abundant patience lasted her maybe one and a half month, before she found herself banging on her neighbor’s front door, dressed in a muscle tee with her hair falling out of her fishtail braid

• abby looked at her watch- 1244 steps, 4:22am, friday. she groaned and rubbed her face, realizing that she was about to meet her (probably very drunk) noisy neighbor, but to abby’s surprise- the door didn’t open

• she could hear the music turn down and a few girlish giggles behind the door, confusing her further

• right as the blonde started knocking again, the lights turned off and she could hear a familiar voice yell- “nobody’s home! go away!”, followed by muffled laughter

• this pushed abby over the edge- countless nights of sleeplessness, an irregular meal schedule and long day shifts at the ER finally caught up to her, and her annoying neighbor was about to be on the receiving end of her wraith

• “you’re troublesome, you know that?! always being so loud during the night, while some of us have work in the morning! get out here right fucking now and turn that god-awful music down!”

• abby let out a shaky, frustrated breath, suddenly being met with a tense silence, she took a step away from the door, thinking she finally got her neighbor to quiet down for once, before she hear that same agitating voice retort-

• “… whatever, grandma!”, followed by the music turning back on, laughter and chatter continuing into the night.

• by this point, abby’s chest and face were cherry red and she was stomping back to her house, trying to ignore the pang of embarrassment and frustration in her belly

• dr. anderson fell asleep with her earbuds in and woke up with a horrendous headache, only to have to get ready for her 7am shift at the hospital

• soon enough, abby was locking the door to her townhouse, double checking the contents of her lunch bag and briefcase (a gift from her dad, duh), when she noticed it, noticed her

• dressed in a kitsch black coat with fluffy white fur around the sleeves, donning gloves and a matching baby blue scarf in the middle of god forsaken october, was her favorite next door neighbor, blissfully unaware of the death stare she was receiving

• abby felt her eye twitch when she noticed her bare legs leaning against the railing that lead to her front door- the irony

• “hey! you!” abby made her way over to her neighbor’s staircase, nearly tripping over her bags and coat, before she stopped at the bottom, staring up at her with tired bloodshot eyes and a red, scrunched up face

• “um… hi? do i know you?”

• “don’t act all sweet now, you need to be put in your place. what the hell is wrong with you-“

• on the other hand, you lazily smiled, and continued staring at her. must be my lucky day, you thought, eyeing abby’s buff body and biting your lower lip, eyes sticking to her arms which were flailing around as she yelled at you for- oh, she’s the woman from last night!

• “y’know, you could’ve just joined us, right? i don’t bite”, you replied, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

• abby, who despite being caught off guard by your borderline flirty statement, was about to keep going off on you, suddenly got interrupted by her apple watch alarm, warning her that she’ll be late for work

• she looked back at you with storms in her eyes, her glare making you straighten up and cross your arms defensively; your neighbor wasn’t only hot, but also intimidating

• “i do. this isn’t over, you better be home later. we need to talk.”, and with that abby walked away, leaving you with the sight of her towering form disappearing in the streets of new york, prompting you to dramatically fan yourself as your body heated up from the sight

• oh, you were definitely feeling inspired now.

#abby anderson #abby #abby anderson x reader #tlou #tlou x reader #tlou x y/n #abby anderson x y/n #abby angst #ellie williams #joel miller #wlw #sapphic

[xxnghtclls]

Flickering Lights

Chapter 2: A Tall, Pink Haired Man

Chapter (1/3)

True Form Sukuna x Reader

For tags and synopsis, please see Chapter 1!

Bam!

You slam the door shut behind you. Finally you’re home in your small apartment, still thinking about what happened in your office. Sitting down on one of your two chairs, you absentmindedly tap with your key into the surface of your kitchen table.

Tap.Tap.Tap.Tap.

“Who was that?” you mumble to yourself, while your leg is wiggling nervously. “Where and… why? Four eyes and four arms, too?”

A pause.

Tap. Tap.

“HOW?” you blurt out loudly and distort your face in confusion. Your brain is so tired.

Shaking your head, you decide to get up and get a hot shower.

-Monday me- is going to have a huge problem, leaving the office like this.

“This” meaning a broken window, a crack in the floor and the wall. Your computer is for the trashcan, too. A fucking mess.

Motherfucker. 

You kind of hope it was a dream, a hallucination or a lightning. Monday you will get back to your same old habit, going to work and writing emails, lists and calculations. And then Tuesday. And then Wednesday. Thursday. Friday.

Sigh.

Rashhhhh

You close the shower curtain in front of your face and turn on the water. Warm steamy drops are tickling your face and calming your nerves. Sleepiness washes over you with the steamy warmth and you’re quick to finish soaping you up. You let out a big yawn, as you turn off the water and step out. 

“Time for bed.” you sigh, before you brush your teeth and dry yourself. Taking your phone with you, you carry yourself up the ladder to your elevated sleeping space. The perks of living in tokyo.

Mini studio apartments.

Crawling onto the futon, you pull the blanket up to your nose. A last time you peek onto your phone, before your eyes shut themselves.

- 01:38 a.m. -

“Goodnight...” you mumble, before you fall asleep. “Stranger.”

♫ Up with the sun, gone with the wind, she always said I was lazy-

“The fuck?” you breathe into the darkness, still half asleep, as you peek onto your phone, trying not to get blind from your display brightness.

- 6:00 a.m. - 

“Ughhh shut up, Bob.” you groan, as you shut your alarm off. You must have forgotten to adjust the settings in your alarm to workweek only, after you had to get up for an out of schedule meeting last saturday. 

But, today is free.

You close your eyes and think about what you want to do today.

Get new earphones perhaps. Get groceries. Find out who…who…  

Zzzzz…

After a moment, you send another peek to your phone.

- 10:12 a.m. -

“Good morning sunshine.” you grumble to your sleepy self, before you yawn and stretch. “Sorry Bob, now you can sing.” you mumble and put on Bob Seger’s song that ripped you out of sleep earlier. 

-play-

“Travelin maan, love when I caan. Turn loose my hand ‘cause I’m goiingg.” you sing, as you’re making yourself some eggs for breakfast, checking your social media inbetween. You roll your eyes, as you read that there’s some unnecessary discourse over something unimportant AGAIN and you swear to yourself, that you’re going to delete that app sooner or later. It just makes you angry. 

Fucking idiots.

Your eggs are ready and you sit down, take a bite and text your bestie Mio. 

Oy. Akiba in 45 mins?

👍

Good. Need new headphones. Mine broke last night.

No wonder. Get some real ones.

You huff at her text.

“No way.” you smile, as you’re putting your phone away and shove the last bite of eggs into your mouth. You need to get dressed quickly, in order to catch the next train to Akihabara. 

On your trainride, you stare out of the window across from you. Listen to the railway and see the houses passing by, the sun shining onto the roofs, before the train goes underground again. Silhouettes and moving lights run along the window.

Moving lights. Flickering lights.

And suddenly you remember last night. 

What happened?

That creature, that… man. 

How unusual he looked and how his eyes pierced through your soul. 

Uncanny. 

You wonder if you should tell Mio about it. 

Maybe not…

Maybe it was a dream or a hallucination or a lightning after all.

…That rip in space definitely.

But what if he was not?

“Excuse me, is everything alright?” an elderly woman that’s sitting right next to you asks you. 

You must’ve zoned out, looking so concentrated… maybe even, as if you’re constipated or something. 

“No, I’m fine. Sorry- I mean, thank you.” you force a smile at her, before you pull out your phone to look busy at least.

And you start to scroll on your socials. 

And scroll.

And scroll. 

And scroll.

Not thinking anything, just remembering that man’s face. Those tattoos. The nose.

Kinda pretty nose, you think as your lips turn into a pout.

Two slits in his eyebrows.

That mask.

So interesti-

Wait what?

Interesting…?

Sigh.

…He is.

You get out at Suehirocho Station and walk to the next 7-eleven, the point where you’re going to meet with Mio. She’s not there yet, so you decide to walk in and buy an Onigiri. 

Only one? 

No, two. 

For later. 

Of course you open the first one immediately and bite into it. The first bite is always the best.

Goddamn.

You love it. Closing your eyes, to savour the taste, you stand in front of the store, enjoying the bliss.

“Oy, peanut!” Mio’s voice comes up behind you. You turn around and nudge your head to her, shooting her a look. 

“What’s up?” you say with your mouth full.

“Got one for me, too?” she eyes your Onigiri.

“No.” you bite into it another time.  

She cocks her eyebrows at you, probably already knowing that you bought two and that you don’t want to share, before a little pout cracks upon her lips.

“Get your own!” you complain, before she pokes her finger into your arm. 

“I’ll get you some snacks later!” she coos.

“Fine!” complain and offer her a bite of your last piece. 

“Mwuah hah hah!” she laughs deeply in excitement, before she gulps down the whole remaining Onigiri. “I know you love me.”

“Ehhh.” you sigh, letting your shoulders sink, disappointed that she ate it all.

“Sorry.” she brushes off her hands on her jacket. “Anyway, let’s go, my greedy little peanut.” she says, before she hooks her arm into yours. “Did you cut your hair?” 

You laugh her question off, as you both start to walk into the city.

While on the search for new 5000 yen headphones, you both keep bullying each other lovingly, laugh and talk about the week. No matter how exhausting your workweek is, she always manages to distract your mind, makes you feel not as lonely. She really is the light of your week. 

You don’t really know how it came to this. To feel like this in this city of millions. You used to go out, to dance and fuck a guy every now and then. But maybe it was just the start of how you feel now. The nights of clubbing grew rare, the nights at the computer and phone listening to music grew more frequent. Because nothing could really satisfy it. This hole in your heart. Listening to music helps. Spending time with Mio helps, but only to a degree. Because you wish for a change in your life. More than work and eat and shower and sleep. More than everyday life.

However, you decide not to tell her about what happened last night. Maybe you’ve gone crazy after all. Even if you’re not, you still feel odd about it. Feel, like it might be the change you yearned for, an adventure. 

Feel like it only belongs to you.

Quickly you find some new headphones and earn a mocking joke from the side, while Mio continues to buy herself a new phone case. Huge, pink and with little glittery stones and charms.

So ugly.

“Don’t look at me like that, when you’re the one who walked around with a Hello Kitty phone for the longest time!” she complains.

“At least I wasn’t mistaken for a disco ball.” you sneer at her.

You walk to another store to get your promised snacks and after a while, when the hottest gossip is done being discussed, you catch yourself getting silent inbetween.

Because your mind wanders off.

Because you remember.

Those eyes.

Dangerous.

Sometimes she notices and throws you a glance, but you just wave it off, excuse it with sleepless nights because of work. 

And she buys it.

At least you hope she does.

“I need to get home.“ you sigh, as you arrive at the next train-station. “I still need to get some groceries. I’m gonna gonna see you next week?”

She sighs too and stops in her tracks. You turn and look to her, seeing her face turning serious. Suddenly the energy shifts. You halt and frown at her in confusion.

Something’s wrong.

“What?” you ask. 

“I need to tell you something.” she looks to the ground and it makes you worried.

“What is it?” you poke her shoulder. 

She hesitates.

“You’re gonna hate it…” she mumbles and your heart starts pounding. You hate situations like this. Last time she acted like this, she told you she lost the one pair of very expensive headphones you bought in your life. You hated her for it, but you learned your lesson. 

Crossing your arms, you keep staring at her, almost holding your breath, trying to remember what kind of item you possibly could’ve lent her recently.

A pause.

“I’ll be on a work trip.-”

“Jesus.” you complain, as you exhale loudly in relief, rolling your eyes.

“For the next week.” she continues, a smug smirk on her face. So proud, knowing to have you fooled so good. “Coming back on Sunday night.”

You sigh.

“I’ll manage!” you exclaim snobbish into her face, but deep down, you know it’s gonna be hard. You’re not gonna see her for two weeks and you’re gonna miss her. A lot. Next to the fact that you can’t meet up with her next weekend, she’ll be busy too and not be able to text you much during the week either.

She punches your shoulder, before you grab her sleeve.

“Come.” you tug on it. “We gotta wish you a safe travel and return.” you mumble, as you drag her with you.

“Huh?” she exclaims, but gives up and willingly walks down to the underground with you. 

“I didn’t go to the Meiji shrine in a while. Let’s hang up an Ema there.” you fiddle with her sleeve, as you’re both sitting next to each other in the train towards Yoyogi Station.

“Is everything alright?” she asks and you notice real concern in her voice. 

She knows something’s up.

“I think I need to go out more, Mio.” you mumble. “If you’re not here to cheer me up, I need to see someone else then.”

“Sounds as if you’re already have someone in mind.” she jokes and you feel the heat rising in your ears, feel caught.

“Yeah.” you fake-laugh, before you try to change the topic. “Where are you going next week?”

“We’re going to have some meetings in Gifu. But also team-building events, this sort of stuff.” she says, while fiddling with her new phone case and you nod.

“Never went there.” you respond. “Tell me if it’s nice, yes?” 

“Sure, little peanut.” she smiles, before she looks back at you. You smile back before, looking around in the wagon.

“Maybe you should go out while I’m gone.” she says, making you look back at her. “Try to focus less on work and have some fun. Treat yourself.” she punches you in your arm again. 

Hard.

“Ow!”

“It’s just work after all.”

“I shall.” you hiss, while you rub your hand over the soon-to-be bruise, as the train stops at Harajuku-Station.

After a short walk, Mio and you arrive at the entrance of the shrine. It’s busy, just like the last time you visited, but as soon as you walk through the Torii, it grows calmer with each second. You might not believe, that in you’re a city of millions, when you walk through the beautiful area around the shrine. Trees and plants seal yourself off the loud noises of the streets. 

Quiet.

Maybe I need a vacation.

“I’m thirsty.” Mio longingly says, as you walk past the huge Sake barrels. 

You snort at her comment.

“Mio Mio Mioooo.” you squeak like a bird. “You called me greedy.”

“That’s what you are.” she chimes. “I know you still have that second Onigiri in your jacket.”

“Shut your mouth.” you smile, while you look up to see the sunlight shine through the branches of the trees, as a gentle breeze flows against your faces. It’s beautiful at this place, but somehow, a weird feeling grows in your gut. 

After a ten minute walk along the shrines nature, you arrive at the camphor trees where the Emas are hanged upon. Mio steps forward, reading some of the wishes that are already hung up. After purchasing a little wooden plate yourself, you tipple to the desks and start writing. 

For my lovely Mio. 

Please let her have the safest travel, a lot of fun and a more safer return to her little peanut.

You draw a little raccoon in the corner, since that’s her favourite animal and turn around, ready to hang it up, only to notice, that Mio holds a little wooden plate in her own hand as well.

“No! I already got one!” you wiggle it into her direction, before you hang it up. 

She steps into the corner of your eyes, hanging her own plate right next to yours. You’re about to complain that she bought an unnecessary one, as your eyes catch what she wrote.

For my lovely y/n.

Please let her have the most fun, good food and a little adventure, until her Mio returns.

“Is this for me?” you ask with wide eyes.

“Bro, it’s your name right there!” she sneers as if you’re stupid, tapping her knuckle loudly against the plate.

Your heart warms up, before you continue in a serious voice.

“You forgot to draw a cat.” 

“I cannot draw a cat.”

“Bullshit. Everyone can draw a cat.” you wave her off and turn around, only to see-

Oh shit.

You freeze in your spot, as you see that tall man from last night standing in front of the holy praying area of the shrine. His back is turned to you, but his height, his black cloak and the pink spiky hair is proof enough.

A sinister energy reaches your feet and crawls up your legs.

“What’s up?” Mio asks, as she notices how you froze in your spot, tugging at your sleeve.

Your heart starts pounding. 

Badum. Badum. Badum.

In the corner of your eyes, you see Mio catching focus on that man herself.

“I’ve never seen a guy that tall-“

“Me neither.” you mumble, while you keep staring. In the corners of your eye, you see many people walking around the mean, peeking and staring and mumbling about his unusual appearance.

He walks up the stairs, shoving a middle aged woman out of his way. She tipples, looses balance and-

Bam!

falls down the stairs, while he’s stepping closer to the doors that lead to the praying area. The huge doors, that now don’t seem to tall in comparison anymore.

“Disrespectful asshole!” Mio exclaims in disgust, as an appalled gasp is heard from the by-standing people and the feeling in your gut grows into a huge lump. Others rush to the woman to help her back up, and Mio wants to go forward too, but you grab her sleeve, holding her back. You stay silent, as you keep watching the man intensely, seeing him lay his right hand on the wooden surface of the saisen-bako that’s placed inbetween the doors. People start to talk to him, try to get his attention, but he is ignoring them, concentrated on doing what he came to do. 

Your eyes are fixated on his hand, a tattooed black ring decorating his wrist. The people around him grow louder and louder, but the sound grows mute in your ears. Almost as if you’re hypnotised, you watch how the wooden surface starts to vibrate, the lines between his hand and the wood start to blur. A deep humming starts to vibrate in your ear, just like last night.

Mio notices your trance and calls you, but you hear without hearing. 

Whatever he’s doing, it has you in his grip.

Mio calls you again, louder and snips her fingers in front of your face to wake you from your trance but you keep being fixated on his hand until-

“Hey!” another man loudly exclaims and tugs on his cloak to get his attention. Without even looking, the pink haired man flicks his left hand and suddenly the throat of the other man bursts with blood and his head falls from his shoulders.

Fwip! 

Pap.. Pap… pap.

Down the stairs it falls and rolls. Your heart drops and everyone starts to scream, as your eyes widen in horror. Blood splatters everywhere, as the head rolls and comes to a halt next to the woman, coating the holy grounds with red essence.

“Y/N!!” Mio calls your name again, now very loud and clear, making your body finally start moving.

You meet Mio’s eyes and grab her wrist, before you run towards the entrance, already seeing security guards run into the opposite direction. Other people run in panic as well, shoving you out of their way, almost make you stumble. For some reason, shortly before you can run through the huge gate, you need to turn around.

Turn around.

The time slows down.

Exhale.

You look.

Focus.

And he turns around, too. Making your eyes meet his for the split of a second, before you turn back forward again, running through the gate.

Inhale.

Sirens are already howling in the distance, as Mio and you and many other people run through the shrine grounds in order to get back to the entrance you came from. Your heart is pounding in your throat and your throat is as dry as sand, as you finally reach the streets. A glance to Mio and a nod from her confirm that you will not separate your ways right now. She’ll come with you.

Bam!

Zschk Zing!

You lock your front door behind you, as Mio sighs loudly, slumping down on one of your kitchen chairs.

“Jesus.” you sigh under your breath, your hands still lingering on the door-lock, your eyes staring into nothing. The image of that mans head rolling down those stairs keeps replaying in your head. 

“Gonna make tea.” Mio says, before she gets up and fills the cattle.

You blink and shake your head, before you turn around and sit down on the other chair on the adjacent corner of the table. 

You have seen some bad stuff on the internet before. Multiple times unfortunately. However it’s still different to see such things in real life.

“The police will get him right?” she asks. 

“Maybe they shot him on sight.” you mumble. “Most probably.” you try to assure her and yourself.

She hums and the kettle starts to whistle.

Louder and louder.

Louder and louder.

Until Mio takes it from the stove and fills your cups with water.

You take a sip and the warmth flows through your body, making you feel better in an instant. 

“I still got no groceries.” you mumble into your cup.

“Let’s just wait a bit. It’ll be safe in a few hours.” she mumbles into hers.

A pause.

And you ponder.

“He wouldn’t have slashed that man, if he let him do his thing in peace.” you sip absentmindedly. “Whatever he was doing.” you add and she glances over to you, cocking an eyebrow.

“If he didn’t shove that woman down the stairs, he wouldn’t have been bothered.” she responds annoyed. “Nothing he was doing can justify this.”

“Yeah.”

Another pause.

“Doesn’t matter now, they probably shot him.” she sighs. 

Your eyebrows twitch at the thought. Somehow, you don’t feel like it’s true.

A few silent hours go by, sipping tea, trying to calm down. Both of you avoid to read the news, try to distract you from what just happened, talk about anything, except about what happened at the shrine today.

And somehow, it works. They probably shot him after all.

The sun sets and it grows dark outside. Mio taps on her phone.

- 10:13 p.m. - 

“I think I should go now.” she sighs. “Gotta get up early tomorrow.” 

You inhale deeply, knowing it’s the last time you’re gonna see her for at least two weeks.

“Alright.” you exhale, as you stand up and walk her to your door. “Text me when you’re at the station, k?” 

“Sure, peanut. The police is probably still roaming around. And if not they got him.” she smiles at you and leans in for a tight hug. “Gonna miss you.” she whispers in your ear and it almost makes you tear up.

What today happened was a lot for you and now you have to deal with it alone, if the distraction looses its effect. For two whole weeks.

“Gonna miss you, too!” you sniff into her ear and press her against you, before you separate.

“Stop crying, bitch.” she jokes and boops your nose. 

You stick out your tongue and with wet eyes, you unlock your front door. 

“Here you go, your Majesty. Please return safely.” you bow, trying to overact your upcoming crying-session and it makes her giggle. 

“It’ll be fine.” she waves you off and walks down the hallway. “I’m a big girl.”

“Text me!” you yell after her, before you close and lock up the door.

Zschk Zing!

Silence.

Too silent.

You grab your back and pull out the new headphones you bought. In all the hectic you forgot to properly charge them, but luckily, they always are charged halfway up when you buy them. 

You sit down on your kitchen chair and go to your phone’s settings, to connect it via bluetooth with your headphones. 

It worked.

You put them on and scroll through your music library, not sure what will give you the right mood for now. If you want more distraction or if you want to cry. Already feeling an empty feeling spreading in your heart, you scroll and scroll and your eyes keep watering.

Maybe crying it is. 

Mio didn’t text yet and you hope she’s about to arrive safely at the station. It’s just a short walk anyway. You keep scrolling. Being a person who listens to almost everything, it’s difficult to choose sometimes. Closing your eyes, you tap on shuffle, letting fate decide what song to play.

But right in the moment, when the song is about to start, a loud knocking is heard on your door.

Knock. 

Knock. 

Knock.

You quickly look to the door.

Mio? 

Maybe she forgot something.

Without turning off the music, you put your headphones on the table and tipple to the front door.

“Mio, is that you?” you call.

No answer.

You frown in suspicion, before looking through the peephole. 

And your heart drops into your socks, as you see a deformed fish-eye version of a stranger.

A tall, pink haired man.

#flickering lights #flickering lights chapters #sukuna #true form sukuna #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #sukuna smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #true form sukuna smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #jjk x reader #fanfiction

[ryndicate]

You say hate fuck. Kaiser says a typical Friday night 🤡🤪

GOTDAMMIT

mdni18+, fem bodied + pronouns, friends (very loose term) with benefits, rough sex, choking, impact, tiny blood mention, I'm too horny to allude to it well, but you work for Kaisers team

You hear the digital beep of your door unlock and flounce off the couch.

There's a reason you have Saturdays off. You would rather nurse yourself at home via a late morning, reheated takeout and coffee. And as he so much likes to brag about, he's the professional athlete, he insists he can handle the aches and pains in stride.

Besides the obvious, he makes it easy not to go easy on him.

You're on him before the door is barely closed, clad in nothing but tiny shorts and a tank top, no undergarments for ease of access, because as much as he pisses you off, you crave him just as badly.

"You don't have to get so mad, you can admit you wanted this," Kaiser coos as your shove has his back slamming into the wall.

You ignore him, fingers hot on his waist as you rake his shirt up, yanking it over his head. Kaiser gives a low grunt as your lips find his neck, followed quickly by teeth. "Not talking to me tonight, sweetheart? You will."

He works the button of his own jeans as you suck and teeth a dark purple mark just under above his collarbone, and impatience grips him tightly when your lips travel up without a single word in his direction.

You moan as long fingers close around your throat. He holds you tightly—tighter when you try to resist, earning a pained squeak—and forces you back, giving you a goading smirk as you try to hide your desire behind a glare.

"You think you can call me over and get a free fuck without so much as a hello? I'm barely through the door, maus."

"Hello," your very clear attitude gets a little lost in the scratch of your rasp; he still hasn't let you go, and he has no intent to. You claw at this wrist when he just grins at you, breath labored, but he ignores the bite of your nails and pushes, compelling you to walk backwards or risk falling on your ass as he moves you both into your living room. "Just fuck me already, then get out."

"Cute. Keep it up." Kaiser knows you will, too. Or else you won't get what you're after. It annoys him how easily you get what, almost as much as how easily he gives in to you, heeling to your apartment each Friday to fuck you hard enough to forget the week. But today he's done being the eager puppy falling through your front door.

His other hand works it way into the hair of your nape, forcing your chin up to meet him in a demanding kiss, his fingers slackening to more of a possessive palm across your upper chest. He can feel how much you need this, can almost smell your anticipation of the fuck (you think) is coming.

He waits until you meld into him, until you're sucking on his tongue, to disconnect, enjoying your irritated, wordless exclamation as he maneuvers you harshly from his grip on your hair, one arm twisted behind your back, until you're bent over the back of the couch.

"Michael!"

Your toes are barely touching the ground as you thrash, not strong enough to break his grip, and unwilling to remove your other arm as the leverage that's keeping your face from smashing into the couch cushions.

You squeal as his hand collides with your ass, smarting through your shorts, unable to twist to glare at him. You cry out as he does it again, heat flaring up your backside as spanks rain down.

A different kind of heat flares in your cheeks to be put in this position. You're still dressed, his undone jeans are pressing on the backs of your thighs—Kaiser's spanked you before, but never like this.

His cock was always deep inside you any time he struck you. Your walls are clenching on instinct with each hit, horribly empty, as each harsh impact comes down with no relief. You can feel your arousal soaking into the thin fabric of your shorts, and you moan as he pulls on the band, exposing more than the teasing swell of your ass that had been visible before, forcing the fabric tighter on your slit.

His low voice coos at the cute little outline of your soaked pussy. "Oh, you poor thing. You're dripping for it."

You whine as he swats lower, watching your thighs clench, the jiggle of your ass. The fabric of your shorts feels rough, the pain glowing in your ass starting to get uncomfortable as the empty ache of your cunt only gets worse.

"Michael, stop!" You try to put some anger into your voice but it comes out pitiful.

"Ask me nicely," Kaiser hums, squeezing the globes of your ass.

You moan mournfully as he grinds his still clothed cock against your regrettably still clothed ass.

"Please stop?"

Kaiser pauses. He feels a little disappointed that you cracked so easily, so he decides to play a little dumb. "That's not what I wanted you to ask."

You squirm, feeling your irritation spike again. "Then what do you want, jesus fuck, Michael!"

"Ask me nicely to fuck you."

Your spine goes rigid, and you try in earnest to wriggle out of his grip. "Fuck off. If you didn't want to fuck me, you wouldn't have come!"

Kaiser closes his eyes as your efforts give him some much needed friction. He won't argue with that, but he wants to hear you beg for it for once. Demanding is fine and all, but you need to admit you're the one who started this little game.

"Ask me nicely, or I'm leaving."

You freeze and Kaiser can hear the glower in your voice.

"You wouldn't."

"There's plenty of desperate pussy out there for me, maus. If you don't want it bad enough, I can get it somewhere else."

"I'm not doing it," you growl.

Michael grins and you cry out as he lands another good hit on your sore ass. "Then I'm gonna play a little, and then I'm going to leave. You're gonna be stuck fucking your own fingers and hoping it's enough."

His eyes sharpen as he restarts a good rhythm, watching your thighs shake, your little shrieks turning to high moans as he starts to hold back less, his palm stinging.

"Dirty girl, you're getting off on this aren't you?"

"Am not," you sniffle, and Kaiser's cock throbs, willing down his impatience. The idea of you breaking for him is so sweet it almost hurts.

He squeezes your ass so hard your pussy lips part, and your fingers twist into the cushion with a wailed "fuck!" that makes Kaiser swallow back a moan.

"C'mon maus, I won't tell anyone. It's just you and me here. Give me one more little please and I'll give you what you want."

You make a muffled noise into the cushions and Kaiser leans over you a little, enjoying your mewled whimper at the pressure over your sore ass. "What was that?"

"Please," your voice is wet, cracks even, and that's the last of Kaiser's self control.

"There you fucking go," he moans, pulling your shorts down your thighs and exposing your obscenely dripping cunt. The colorful fabric dangles at one ankle as he knocks your legs further apart and bullies his way between them, pulling his cock from his jeans and pushing the fat tip through your folds with no preamble. He already made you wait, he's not that sadistic.

He sheathes himself in you with a low groan and you echo him, your walls squeezing him so tight its like you're scared he'll pull out again. Kaiser yanks you upright, fucking into you hard, your ass slapping against his thighs as he gives you the harsh pace you're aching for.

Little sobs escape through your lips, broken syllables of his name, as your nails dig into his hips, pulling him back in with every thrust as your other supports your weight on the back of the couch.

Now that you're not playing hard to get with him, Kaiser takes the opportunity to seal his lips to your neck, licking and sucking until he returns the favor of the dark bruise that's already throbbing on his own neck. By the time he's done tonight, you'll be wearing his teethmarks like the necklace you won't let him buy.

"Please, fuck, please touch me, I need—" your head falls back on his shoulder and his hand closes obligingly around your throat as his other dives for your—Kaiser moans. Your clit is so swollen and needy, he almost can't believe you're that ready and willing for him right now. Your greedy cunt is sucking him in, squeezing him like a vice, soaking his pelvis in your juices.

You crumple against him with a broken sound as he teases your clit a little and something in him whites out. He drags you to the nearest wall presses your back to it, feeling vicious satisfaction in the panic in your eyes, clouded by lust.

You don't let him see your face when you fuck, but as he pulls your thighs around his hips, using the wall to bear your weight as he fucks you like you're made for him, you don't protest. Instead of cussing it, you're whimpering his name into open air and shivering as you fall apart on his cock. That's what sends him spiraling into orgasm—not like usual, your nails raking bloody lines to his back instead of his thighs—groaning into your neck as his vision bursts into starry color.

Kaiser's breath matches yours as he comes down, despite being the athlete, it's uneven, heavy, but he still finds it in himself to grin down on you.

"Still want me to go? Or can I do that again?

Your usual glare isn't as heated, and your eyes flicker down, not meeting his gaze for once.

"Just use the fucking bed next time, got it?"

Kaiser grins. Yeah, he can do that. And now that he's done pushing his luck, at least for the moment, he'll give you what you were after the whole time, meeting your lips in a clash of teeth; a dark promise to fulfill that you'll wake up tomorrow sore but sated, little reminders of his touch littered across your body for anyone to see. Until you inevitably cover them up that is.

And of course you'll leave your own on him, with demands for him to keep his mouth shut but it's okay... Kaiser trusts you not to work on Saturdays; it's your mistake for trusting him not to show off to the jealous eyes of his teammates.

#kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #kaiser smut #michael kaiser smut

[bbrissonn]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢 𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐰 - 𝐥𝐮𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐬

in which luke realizes he's fallen for his brother's best friend's little sister

warnings: not proofread

disclaimer: english is not my first language so excuse any mistakes. also, this is a work of fictions, this doesn't reflect how these boys act in real life :)

pairing: luke hughes x zegras!reader

wc: 2.06k

previous masterlist next

-LATE NOVEMBER ‘22-

Luke let out a soft grunt as his body hit his mattress, his energy drained from their two games on Friday and Saturday night, which they had both won. So, the seniors had decided a party was to take place on Sunday, from sun up to sun down, something the Hughes boys hated. 

He wasn’t a big partyer, sure he liked going out every once in a while, drink a little here and there, but big scene with a bunch of strangers, drunk strangers wasn’t somethign he enjoyed. He tried to find some positive to the day he just had, but he couldn’t find any. He hadn’t even drank half a beer, having to make sure his friends didn’t do anything that would get them in trouble. 

He was more than ready to call it a day and end to bed, he had successfully put all of his roommates to sleep, meaning there was nothing stopping him from falling asleep. He quickly changed into something more comfortable before hiding under his blanket, checking his phone one last time. Just as he was about to put his phone down, a notification came in. 

He groaned a bit before checking it, hoping it wasn’t one of the freshman asking him to come help them back to their dorms, or anything important really. Instead, he was meet with a text from you, a short and simple one. 

y/n/n

hey lulu, you seemed a bit stressed tonight and i didn’t want to bother you, hope duker wasn’t too much of a hassle to put to bed. just wanted to say you played amazing this weekend :) 

sleep well, you deserve it <3

The youngest Hughes couldn’t help the smile that formed on his face as his fingers moved across his phone screen, his index hovering over the send button, wondering if this was a good idea or not. 

lulu 

hi y/n/n, surprisingly duker was the easiest to put to bed, can’t say the same for eddy though… thank you, and i will especially after today. i know you have an early class tomorrow, but maybe we could get lunch after? on me

The boy didn’t understand why he felt nervous when he sent the text, the two of you get lunch together pretty much every single week, this wouldn’t be any different. So why was he feeling the way he was? 

y/n/n 

i’d love to! only if i get to pick the place though

lulu 

when have i not let you pick the place? 

y/n/n 

never because you’re a smart man :D

lulu 

exactly, night y/n/n

y/n/n 

night lulu, see you tomorrow xx

And there it was again, that weird little feeling in the pit of his stomach, one he had been feeling way too many times in past week whenever he’d talk to you. Luke truly didn’t understand what that feeling was, or why it appeared every time you were around or when you would text or call him, but he loved it. He was addicted to it. 

The same feeling came back the next morning as he saw you walking towards his car, talking with one of your friends that was in your class. A smile creeped it’s way onto his face as you bid your goodbyes to your friend before joining Luke in his car, sending him a wide smile. 

“Hey, Lu.” You said as you buckled up, the boy’s eyes never leaving your figure until your eyes met his. 

“Hi.” He whispered with a smile before snapping back to his normal self, turning the car on and driving off towards your favourite place to eat lunch in the area. It was a small little cafe, one you wouldn’t even know existed if it wasn’t for one of your friends working there. Said friend had brought back a leftover chicken wrap she had as dinner one night, and you grew obsessed with them. 

“You know me so well, Hughes.” You mumbled with a wide grin as he pulled into a parking spot, chuckling a bit at your expression. 

“It’s not like you pretty much force me to eat here every week.” The boy answered, his tone light and teasing making you roll your eyes with a smile. 

“Shut up.” You told him before getting out of the car and making your way into the place, Luke following closely behind you. 

A couple of minutes later, your food arrived, it wasn’t noon yet, meaning there was barely anyone inside, something you loved because it meant your food would arrive quicker. You then started telling Luke about what had happened in your life during the weekend, barely ever letting the boy speak, but he didn’t mind. The sound of your voice was something he loved, the way you would invest into your storytelling leaving him in awn. 

Once again, that feeling in the pit of his stomach came back as your laugh echoed in his ears, your beautiful smile staring at him as all your attention was focused on him, and him only. You were quite the talkative person, always finding a group of people at a party to talk the night away, much like your older brother, and Luke was total opposite, choosing to stay with his teammates at every party. So, whenever your full attention was on him, it made him feel so special. 

He was the only that mattered to you in this moment, your whole mind and spirit were only thinking about him. Just like you had his whole attention, you always did. Whenever the two of you were in the same room, you were all Luke could think about, always letting his eyes drift towards you, finding you easily even in a crowded room. 

“Luke? Luke, are you listening?” He heard your voice ask making him blink a couple of times. Your eyes were looking into his with such worry, he loved it. 

“Yeah, yeah, ‘m listening.” He answered, his voice low as he scratched the back of his neck, clearing his throat slightly. Thankfully, you didn’t ask anymore questions, instead continuing your story, Luke letting out a quick sigh when you did. He relaxed in his seat, paying full attention to what you were saying, realization settling into him. 

He was in deep shit. 

~

“What’s up with you?” Ethan asked later that night as all the sophomores were sitting in the couches in their living room, Luke quiet than he usually was. The question made the other three boys look over at the youngest one in the room, a slight red colour appearing on Luke’s cheeks. 

“Nothing.” He answered, trying his best to ignore the looks his best friends were giving him. 

“Bullshit.” Dylan called out, pausing the hockey game that was currently playing on their TV, none of them paying attention to it anymore. Luke bit his lips for a moment, debating wether he should tell them about his new found feelings for you, or stay quiet. Knowing his best friends, especially Duker, Trevor would find out in probably less than a week, so option two it was. 

“I don’t wanna talk ‘bout it.” He mumbled, Mackie rolling his eyes at his answer. 

“Boo hoo, whore. Tell us.” The boy said, making the other three chuckle slightly, but nodding their heads at the same time. 

“If I tell you, you can’t tell anyone.” Luke started, his friends laughing between them, only making the youngest one angry. “I am serious! You can’t tell another soul about this, or I will murder all of you.” 

“We won’t, chill.” Mark said, the others nodding along with him. Luke took a large sip of his beer, his roommates all watching him until he spoke again. 

“I think I am in love with Y/N/N.” The boy admitted out loud for the first time, and gosh did it feel weird. He was in love with his brother’s best friend’s little sister. He knew Jack probably wouldn’t have a problem with them dating, but Trevor, yeah that would be another story. 

“You just realized?” The other New Jersey pick laughed, the others boys doing the same. A tint of red grew on Luke’s cheeks again, this one darker and more noticeable than before. 

“I think you’re the last one to realize that, buddy.” 

“You just realized?” 

“It’s like the more obvious thing, Hughesy.” They all teased, not making the boy in question feel any better than he already did. He just put himself in the worst position possible, the memory of Trevor introducing you to him, clearly stating that you were off limits to the boy and to never get any ideas. Of course back then, Luke just shrugged it off, after all he was fourteen, the last thing he was thinking about was a relationship, but now, now it was totally different. 

He wanted you, needed you, to be his. He’d do anything for you, if it meant you could be his forever, something he had never felt before. He’s had a couple of girlfriends and flings in the past, but this was a new feeling, stronger than he’s ever felt before. But he could never tell you about this, never, it would ruin your friendship, Trevor would hate him, then Jack and Trevor’s friendship would be all messed up because of it, and it’d all be because of his. He couldn’t. 

“So, when are you gonna tell her?” Dylan asked from besides him, bring the boy out of his thought. Luke furred his brow slightly before answering the Duke boy. 

“Never. It’d ruin everything.” He explained, scoffs being heard in the living room. 

“Trust me, Lukey, if you were to call her right now and ask her on a date, she’d say yes. The girl’s like head over heels for you, it’s so obvious it hurts.” Mackie said, everyone else agreeing with him. 

“Z would kill me, than Jack’s gonna get pissed at me, too risky.” 

“God, you’re the biggest idiot out there.” Dylan mumbled before pressing play on the remote, the sound of the commentators being the only noise in the room. 

Luke didn’t pay attention to the rest of the game, his whole mind being focused on you. What were you doing at this moment? Were you thinking about him like he was thinking about you? Would you go on a date with him? Did you love him the same way he loved you? Or were you in the arms of another boy? Having a girls night with your friends, him being the last thing on his mind? He needed to know. 

The Hughes boy left the living right before the third period started, his finger hovering over your contact. He shouldn’t. But he did it anyways, the sound of the phone ringing soon echoing in his ear as he bit his nails nervously. Only for him to be met with the sound of your voicemail, crushing his spirit a little. He tried his best not to let it bother him, instead deciding to watch a show, when he received a text only a minute later. 

y/n/n

hi lulu, it’s sibling night, i’ll call you when we’re done facetiming :)) 

A sigh of relief left his mouth, monday nights were always siblings night, how he could he forget that. They started back when Trevor left for the NTDP, at first it would be you, Griffin and Ava all together, and then eventually you were all in different places over the country. You had made it very clear to Luke that no plans could ever be made on Monday nights because of it. 

The boy felt a lot more at ease now, relaxing in his bed as his show played. And the moment he heard his ringtone and your contact popping up on his phone, a wide smile grew on his face. He sat up in his bed, clearing his throat slightly before answering the call. 

“Hey.” 

“Hi, you. What’s up?” You asked, the sound of your voice only making the boy smile even more. 

“I just, uh… Do you wanna go on a date with me?” He asked starighforeward, bitting his lips after, scared of your answer. You stayed quiet for a while, making the boy even more nervous than he already was. 

“I’d love to, Lu.”

#bri writes #luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes fic #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes blurb #lemon au

[m0chisenpai]

strike

˚｡⋆ mike schmidt x black!fem!reader

in which mike finally gets the guts to ask the sweet librarian out. the iconic sunshine x grumpy pairing but its more tooth rotting fluff

Mike finds himself hoping he would see more of Ms.Y/N. He hoped Abby would forget her bag, or book again so he could stumble back into your library and just soak in the warmth of those big brown eyes. And to his luck she forgets a folder, a book, a lunchbox over the span of two weeks.

And each day he comes back into your library he swears he's fallen deeper and deeper.

So here he is, bright and early on a saturday morning, the smell of aftershave fresh in his nose, the curls on top of his head are softer and smell like pine for some odd reason and he's wearing his good pair of blue jeans with a relaxed flannel.

A bundle of flowers sits beside him terribly hidden under his work coat from Abby's prying questions.

"Your gonna ask her out aren't you?" Mike's eyes snap to hers in the mirror.

"And if I was?' Mike grumbles trying to keep his voice nonchalant.

"She said she's never been bowling before" Abby hums looking out the window. And so Mike hums again, when really he hopes and knows that Abby takes that as his thanks.

Abby walks ahead of him as Mike keeps a steady pace behind, wondering if he doesn't look like he's about to vomit or drop. But the sight of you int hat soft worn reading chair calms all his nerves. "Mr.Schmidt! Back again so soon? I think you might get mistaken as staff" you giggle meeting Mike halfway.

"You'd be surprised" Mike huffs watching Abby dive into a bean bag.

"Here" he pulls his arm from behind and feels his pride sweell as you coo and take the bouquet into your arms. "You shouldn't have! Thank you Mike" You reach forward pulling him into a hug and its then he realizes today you smell good. Expensive. Was that a new perfume?

Now that he's looking down at you, he sees that your lips have a little shine, your eyelashes are curlier. You look even more beautiful. And as you walk to your desk with him in tow, you have a gentle, sensual sway to your hips clad in one of those skirts that hug you in just the right areas.

"I was wondering if you had any plans Friday night" Mike finally speaks up rubbing his hands onto his knees to keep them as still as possible.

"Actually I don't! My friends and I were suppose to go out for drinks but mommy duties cut in and they had to cancel."

Luck must be on Mike's side today because your eyes slant and you lean forward to and cup your chin in your hand. "Are you asking me out Mr.Schmidt?"

And Mike leans forward, "I just might be Ms/L/N." And you lay your hand upon his arm.

"Call me Y/N."

Work dragged by for Mike that Friday. But before he knew it he was flying home to shower, shave, fix his hair and pick out an outfit decent enough for a bowling alley. And as soon as Abby's babysitter hit the threshold he booked it to your house.

You lived a few streets over and Mike parked in the drive way of your home jogging to the door. You were beautiful, a black overall dress with a red off the shoulder sweater underneath and matching knee highs to pair. You cradle a small leather bag in the nook of your elbow, covered by the fall chill with a jean jacket that clearly you owned for some years.

"Too much for a bowling date I know" you bashfully giggle.

"No you look beautiful" Mike smiles holding his arm out for you to slip through. He’s a gentlemen opening the door for you to get into the passenger side.

“Now where do you plan on taking me Mr Schmidt?”

“That’s a surprise Ms L/N” he smirks and you let out a silent hum. A silence falls over you and Mike clears his throat.

"Why a librarian?"

"Hm, I was always a book worm but I didn't see myself writing any books of my own. So I though why not work where I find myself most days" you explain now looking to Mike you rest your hand beneath your jaw.

"I know we're away from school, but you truly do n amazing job with Abby."

"I think you're one of the rare few who would think that."

You huff placing a hand on his bicep, "i'm serious. She loves you dearly from the drawings she's always making of the two of you, and she's a kind soul. Clearly she gets that from you."

"Thank you" Mike takes his left hand off the wheel to give your hand a quick squeeze before it returning it to its original spot.

When the neon glow of the alley illuminates, your eyes glow up as well, clutching Mike’s arm. It’s the new place thats opened in town, not just an alley, but an arcade tucked away inside as well. The place is shiny new and you two pay for your shoes and sit down at one of the lanes. Mike quickly ties his shoes, and you struggle slightly, he assumes cause your names must be new and he kneels in front of you.

“Here.” Mike taps his knee and you sigh.

“Mike you don’t have-“

“I insist. I’ve heard breaking one of those hurts bad.” He nods to your short french tips, and you place your foot atop his knee and he quickly laces the left, thenn the right.

“Alright, ready to get demolished?” Mike smirks down at you as you both walk to the lane.

“Don’t get cocky now Mikey, beginners luck might be on my side!” You exclaim picking up the shiny green ball while Mike picks up the darker blue one, he hopes you can’t tell its heavy and he’s struggling to keep hold of it.

“How about a wager then?” You raise a brow, “ winner gets to request anything from the loser?”

You grin rocking side to side. “Anything?” And Mike echoes back the promise. “You got a deal Schmidt!”

The first two rounds you can barely knock down three pins. Mike gets a strike and knocks more than half the pins down. But after he starts letting up. And by some miracle you win by the skin of your teeth.

"HA I told you!" you twirl pointing to the screen displaying you are the winner.

"Yeah, alright. What's your prize?" Mike tilts his head. You hum tapping your pointer finger to your chin as you scan the alley then point.

Its the food station, with fried foods among other sweets displayed on the menu. "I want to share a milkshake with you. With a big cherry on top!"

The night feels magical to Mike, too good to believe as he carries a red tray balancing two cartons of fries and a burger with the comically large milkshake sitting in the middle.

You sit together devouring the alley's greasy treats. With your reward, the shake, sitting between the both of you.

You steal Mike's fries scrunching your nose when he swats your hand playfully, but he lets you eat them. And you lean forward giggling as you two share the shake like some romcom high schoolers. Your hands just barely brushing against one another, your eyes start to glaze and you pull back sharply.

And Mike starts to apologize, thinking he'd misunderstood.

Your hand begin to tremble and its then Mike realizes you aren't even looking at him, its whatever or whoever is behind him that's got you looking like you've seen a ghost.

Mike looks over his shoulder and to his disgust, the arcades got a booth where a bright pink hippo is singing some high pitched song for a kids birthday party. Its jerky movements take him back to the same ones buried in rubble from the previous year.

But Mike can only focus on you now, your having a panic attack. He's seen plenty at his job. So he takes hold of your hands and begins to massage them.

"Hey, you're safe, breath Y/N" he's got sight of your eyes and he holds your gaze as he tries to ground you. "Match my breaths," he breaths in for three, holds then lets go. You do the same.

In and out. In and out.

You do this a few times till your hands relax into Mike's. Embarrassment flashes across your face as you look down to your hands. "I'm so sorry. I just can't stand those...things." you whisper.

"I understand. Mike smiles.

"Really?" You finally look up.

"Yeah, my sister used to be obsessed with them. But it just feels like they're.."

"Watching?" You finish for him and he nods. "Yeah, creepy things." Your nose scrunches again, and Mike can't resist and playfully pokes it making you huff a giggle.

"There you are" he whispers as your smile lights back up. You finish your meal and head back to the car. Some old song plays on the cars radio, your body is turned to Mike. His hand on your knee, your hand atop his.

He drives a bit slower, wanting to enjoy this peace. At one point you lift his hand to your mouth and place a kiss to the back of his hand leaving a glossy red stain and Mikey has to stop the car from swerving.

When he pulls to your home he's reluctant to let go so he can go to your side to open the door and walk you to your front door. The light from your front door illuminates you. The wind tosses your hair a bit. You look too perfect in this moment.

"Thank you for tonight, it was so much fun."

Mike smiles his thumb caressing the back of your hand, "do you think we could do this again? Minus the creepy robots?"

"Of course. Maybe I can beat you at skee ball?" You're leaning closer to Mike and he hums, his eyes closing just when you press your lips to his.

It lasts for a quick moment, a peck that leaves Mike breathless when you pull back.

"Good night Mikey" you whisper opening the door finally letting your hands fall apart. Once your door shuts, the breath Mikey seems to hold releases as does a soft laugh as he walks back to his car.

You truly had him wrapped your little finger.

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #mike schmidt x black reader #black!reader

[scottsstreet]

Glad you came

PAIRINGS: Luca Fantilli x Reader

WARNINGS: none

AUTHOR’S NOTE: please let me know your thoughts, opinions and suggestions. enjoy!

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you first met Luca in your Econ class.

he was late on the first day and since there were no other seats available, he sat down next to you and began politely asking for the notes he missed.

the next time you had that class you sat in the same spot, enjoying being off to the side away from everyone else. you didn’t expect him to come in once again and ask if this seat was taken?

and that became routine. you would be one of first the people to arrive in class since you walked from your off-campus apartment not too far away and then Luca would arrive a few minutes later, take the seat next to you and start talking about whatever he did on the days you hadn’t seen each other.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

you had been in Econ class that morning and just like any other day Luca was catching you up on all the things you’d missed on your days apart. his friends, his other classes, hockey, his favorite tv shows, etc.

you would give your input every now and then to let him know you were still engaged and listening, but let’s be honest it was hard not to be engaged when Luca was talking.

“then he scored the winning goal and Ethan was pissed,” he laughed “it was hilarious. you had to of been there.”

“and you were playing what game?” you asked trying to understand what exactly he was talking about.

“NHL 23.” he said.

“interesting, you’ll have to show me sometime.” you responded absentmindedly, you didn’t even realize the weight your words actually carried.

“you should came to one of my games sometime, that way you can see first hand how to play the game.” he suggested shyly, shrugging.

you finally raised you attention from you notebook and turned to him with an are you serious? look.

“yeah. i know you aren’t the biggest sports fan but you should come. We play Friday.”

before you could even try and muster a response your professor dismissed class and you and Luca parted ways.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

now its not that you hated sports. you watched the occasional Saturday night football game with your family growing up and you went to your siblings sporting events to show your undying support, but you just never got into it. you never really found it enjoyable.

regardless your easily influenced and after talking to your best friend about what happened with Luca, she convinced you to at least go for a little bit of the game because it could be fun and because he seems like a really nice guy.

so you decided to go.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

when the game ended you were a bit sad but you shrugged the feeling off and just chalked it up as an experience you didn’t completely hate.

before the game had started Luca had tossed you a puck that said meet me by the locker room. so that’s where you headed as you made your way through the crowded halls of the Yost Arena.

when you neared the locker room you saw Luca standing there waiting for you talking to a few of the other player on the team.

when he saw you coming his way, he parted ways with the other boys and made his way towards you.

“you came? and here i thought you hated sports.” he greets you.

you shrugged, “i do, someone has to cheer for you right? otherwise it’s just-“ *ignoring all the people still crowding the Arena dressed in maize and blue who were obviously there for the Wolverines, waving around vaguely* “embarrassing, no one here for your team. clearly” you replied back continuing with the banter.

“clearly.” “what would you do without me?”

his smiles widens “i don’t know. in fact, you might have to keep coming to the games, you’re probably the sole reason we won tonight.”

“probably.”

#umich hockey #luca fantilli #luca fantilli x reader #hockey

[burntheedges]

Maintenance Request Chapter 18

Joel Miller x f!reader | new chapter every Friday 18+ | ao3 | main post & chapter list chapter word count: 3.3k

chapter summary: Back to work (and all the promises you and Joel made on that phone call).

a/n: thank you as always to @katareyoudrilling for being the best beta 💕 posting a bit early today for secret reasons 👀 check back at 11 for more 👀

chapter tags/warnings: flirting, banter, fluff, cursing, food and drink mention, pet names (honey, gorgeous, darlin’, baby, sweetheart, good girl, handsome, cowboy), reader can wink (author cannot lmao), semi-public sex, kissing, oral (m!receiving), dirty talk, fingering (f!receiving), reader straddles Joel's lap

Chapter 18

Monday, November 4 Eleventh week of the semester

On Monday, you were almost vibrating on your way into work.

You’d talked to Joel again on Sunday, but all that had done was get you keyed up for your impending reunion. You couldn’t stop thinking about his promises – his hands, his cock, and everything else – and your office. You knew actually doing anything there was risky, but the idea had consumed you since your call on Saturday night.

As you walked across the quad to your building, your phone vibrated in your pocket, surprising you.

Joel (8:53 AM): See you soon, gorgeous.

You smiled. You were pretty sure he was in the same boat as you, drowning in anticipation.

you (8:54 AM): can’t wait 💕

Perhaps as a favor to you, the morning actually flew by. Before you knew it you were pacing awkwardly in front of your desk again as you waited for Joel to knock on your door.

You couldn’t get your mind off the images he’d put there, wondering if you would rush to come together as soon as the door opened, or actually manage to eat lunch first. 

And then he knocked.

At your call to come in, Joel stepped into your office and then froze. For a moment the two of you only stared at each other. He looked good. Rather than the typical flannel, he was wearing a navy blue button up that made his shoulders look even broader than normal. Your eyes traced them, lingering, before darting back up to meet his gaze.

You managed a strangled, “hi,” and it seemed to kickstart Joel into action. He took a swift step inside before turning and locking the door behind him. 

“Hey there, gorgeous,” his voice rumbled out of him, register low and smooth, as he turned back to face you. His whole body looked tense.

You were both still, staring at each other, and then very suddenly, you weren’t.

“Fuck,” the expletive fell from Joel’s lips like prayer. He took two large steps towards you and before you knew it you were in his arms, pressed back against your desk. “I missed you so goddamn much, honey.” His arms had snaked around your back and tightened, pulling you in close to his chest. You buried your fingers in his hair as he gently pressed his forehead against yours. Drawing in a deep breath, you replied, “missed you too, Joel.” 

“Been thinkin’ about this since Friday, honey.” And with no further prompting, Joel leaned to press his lips to yours. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind, the night before, you’d wondered if you should be worried how much you craved this. Craved his lips against your own, his arms around your body, the tease of his tongue against your bottom lip. 

Feeling it all again, you decided you’d be a fool not to crave it.

You opened your mouth to his kiss and together you skipped right over slow and gentle. It was hot and intense and everything you’d wanted for days.

“Joel–” you moaned, and he shushed you as he pressed kisses down your neck. “Shhh, honey, let me take care of you.” That sounded heavenly, but it also reminded you of exactly how you wanted this to go. You shook your head slowly to clear it as he worried a new mark at your collarbone, replacing the ones that had faded.

“That’s not what–” you sighed. “You know what I want, Joel.”

To your absolute delight, you felt him shiver in response. He dropped his forehead to rest against your shoulder. “Yeah?” You could hear how much he liked the idea.

“Yes, Joel. Sit down.” He shivered again and you smiled, nudging him gently backwards until he fell into one of the armchairs in front of your desk.

He looked up at you with dark eyes. You took a step forward and, eyes locked on his, sank slowly to your knees. He swallowed, hard.

“Been thinking about this,” you murmured, reaching forward to undo the button of his jeans. His hands came to rest on the arms of the chair and he dug his fingers in until the tips turned white. 

“Darlin’, you got no idea how much I’ve been thinkin’ about this,” he replied, lifting his hips to give you room to pull down his jeans. You could see his hard cock straining against the front of his briefs.

You licked your bottom lip as you looked at it, and you heard Joel’s breath catch. You grinned.

“Can I kiss you, handsome?” you winked at him as you called back your first night together, and he laughed, breathless. 

“Honey, you can kiss me wherever you’d like. Consider it an open invitation.” He picked up his right hand and gently, so gently it made your breath catch, trailed his fingertips across your cheek. You turned to press a kiss to them and he grinned. “Just like that.”

You laughed and kissed his fingers again. He moved his hand back to cup the back of your neck and tug you forward, and you grinned as you allowed it.

“Eager, hmm?” You teased him as you slid your hands up his thighs, reveling in the muscle you could feel flexing under your fingertips. You moved forwards until you were right between his thighs, hands resting on his briefs. You looked up to meet his eyes before leaning forward to press a soft kiss against his cock, still covered and bulging under black fabric. You watched as his eyelids fluttered but didn’t close.

“Fuck, honey, ‘course I am,” he groaned. You grinned and tucked your fingers under the waistband of his briefs, lifting them over the head of his cock. As soon as you revealed it, you leaned down to press a soft kiss to the head, already red and swollen. You let your tongue slip out to press against the tip where a tiny bead of precome was waiting for you. Joel groaned out your name.

“Please, baby, just like that. Let me see that pretty mouth on my cock.” He sucked in a breath as you tugged his briefs down, letting his cock spring free. “Been dreamin’ about your mouth, ever since you told me you wanted this.”

With his left hand Joel tugged up the hem of his shirt, giving you plenty of room to work. You placed your own left hand on his hip and used your right to grip the base of his cock, bringing the head up to your lips. You locked eyes with him as you opened your mouth and stuck out your tongue.

“Look at you,” he sounded breathless. “That’s my good girl. Let me see my cock on your tongue, baby.”

You pulled on his cock with your right hand, gliding your fist upwards as you let the head come to rest on your tongue. The salty, smooth taste of him almost made you moan. For a moment you stayed there, eyes locked on Joel’s as he stared back at you. And then you smirked, as much as you could like that, and you watched Joel’s eyes roll backwards as you closed your mouth around the head of his cock.

The taste of him and the stretch of your mouth around him were delicious. Your own eyes fell closed as you took him deeper into your mouth. You teased along the bottom of his cock with your tongue, wetting his soft skin, and you felt his grip tighten on the back of your neck in response.

“Fuck, baby, you–” he trailed off on a sigh as you started to move your hand, working in the same rhythm as your mouth. You hummed, loving the effect you were having on this man who could so easily reduce you to a quivering mess with just his voice. You felt more than heard him take a deep breath. “Look at you, honey.” His voice was deeper, rougher than you’d ever heard it. You felt its effect starting to pool in your underwear. You looked up as you moved your mouth down, deeper this time, teasing the head of his cock towards the back of your throat. Joel’s mouth was hanging open and he was panting as he watched you. The hand not wrapped around your neck was grasping at the arm of his chair.

As you slid the head of his cock out of your mouth, you flattened your tongue along the underside and made a show of the tip resting there before taking him in again.

Joel grunted as his hips thrust forward. “Shit, sorry, honey–” You cut him off with a firm grip to his hip. He blinked at you as you tugged his hip. “No, baby, I’m too big, I–”

You sucked in a breath as you pulled off of his cock. “I want you to, Joel. I can do it.”

He slowly let go of the arm of the chair and moved his hand to grip your chin. He rubbed his thumb along your bottom lip before using his grip to pull your mouth open. He grinned, slow and wicked, and stood slowly from the chair. You rose up on your knees to follow him.

“‘Course you can. You are my good girl, right?” You nodded, mouth open in his hand. “Well, I did tell you, I’ll give you whatever you want.”

As the words left his mouth he thrusted his hips forward, guiding his cock into your open mouth. You let your jaw relax and welcomed him in.

Soon you found your rhythm again, letting his cock slide in and out of your mouth on his shallow thrusts, your hand joining in and squeezing him at the root. You moaned and you felt Joel shudder in response. Every stroke sent spikes of sensation into your core, shooting down your spine. 

“Knew you could take it like this, honey.” Joel thrust just a little bit deeper on his next stroke and you both moaned. “Can’t believe this pretty little mouth is all mine. So perfect for me, just perfect on my cock, baby.” 

You tightened your grip around his cock and felt him suck in a breath in response. “Shit,” he breathed, eyes wide. “Fuck, that’s so fuckin’ good.” You rubbed your thighs together, loving how obviously affected he was by what you were doing. As you moved your mouth over him again, you sucked lightly and almost smiled, as much as you could, at the moan he gave you in response. 

Joel smoothed his thumb gently under your eye, prompting you to look up and meet his gaze. He held your gaze with his own as he moaned on his next thrust. You realized you’d let your hand fall slack, and you tightened it again, moving it in time with your tongue and his thrusts. His hips stuttered in response.

“Fuck, honey, I’m close. Where do you– where should I–” You closed your grip on his hip again and tugged him forwards. “Inside?” You hummed, closing your eyes, and he groaned. 

His hips somehow thrust even faster, and you tried to keep up with your hand and your tongue and your mouth. When you heard him start to say your name, you pushed against his grip and took him even deeper, letting the tip of his cock kiss the back of your throat. You hollowed your mouth around him and sucked.

Joel came, hard.

“Fuck, fuck. That’s– fuck.” You felt him come down the back of your throat and you swallowed, just in time. His body curled over you and you felt him brace himself against the edge of the desk behind you with his free hand. After a moment he used his grip on your neck to ease you backwards and you realized your own chest was heaving. Your eyes fluttered open and you met his gaze – he looked wrecked, and you were sure you did, too.

After a moment of simply gazing at each other Joel tugged you forward again, sinking back into the chair and guiding you to follow. Fighting against your loose limbs, you moved where he pulled you, settling into his lap. Joel immediately let his forehead drop to rest against your chest, pressing a gentle kiss to your shirt. You smiled. 

On his next exhale, he murmured, “that was so fuckin’ good, sweetheart. Fuck.” You grinned. 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, honey. Fuck. Your fuckin’ mouth.” He sounded awestruck, and it made you laugh, a little stunned. 

“Hmmm,” he hummed, moving his hand around to cup you. “Don’t think I forgot about you, though.”

“Joel–”

“That’s right, sweetheart. Let me take care of you, now.” With no hesitation, Joel slipped his fingers into your pants, seeking your core. As his fingertips brushed against your slit he chuckled.

“You are soaked, honey. S’this all for me?” You nodded, hiding your face in his neck. “No, no hidin’, baby.” He gently pushed you backwards with his left hand until he could catch your gaze. You felt your cheeks burning. “No reason to hide. Ain’t nothin’ better than knowin’ this pussy is wet for me.” You whined in response, and he grinned. “That’s right, honey. It is all for me.”

Joel pulled you into a searing kiss as two of his fingers slipped inside of you, surprising you into a moan. He swallowed it down and curled his fingers on the next thrust. As his fingers found their rhythm inside of you, his tongue danced along your bottom lip and you opened for him, letting him deepen the kiss.

You started to thrust your hips forward, and Joel responded by tucking his thumb up against your clit, gently moving in circles around it in time with your hips. 

Your next inhale sounded like a sob.

Joel broke away and soothed you with his free hand, brushing his thumb over your cheekbone. “Shhh, honey, let me help you,” he murmured, pressing kisses down your neck. “That’s my good girl, right? Letting me take care of you.”

“So fucking good, Joel,” you managed to sigh out, and you felt him smile against your neck. 

“That’s what we are together, baby. So fucking good.” You smiled and nodded.

You felt your orgasm starting to draw down your spine. You swayed a little in his lap and he steadied you with an arm around your waist. 

“Let me see it, gorgeous,” he sucked a mark onto your shoulder, just to the side of your neck. “Let me see how you come. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, honey, let me see it again. So fucking gorgeous when you come for me, baby.” Joel bit down on your neck, and you felt the wave come rushing back towards you, cresting up your spine and whiting out everything around you.

You might have moaned his name as you came, but you couldn’t be sure. You must have said something because you came back to yourself and realized his hand was clamped over your mouth. You blinked. 

“You got a little loud there at the end, sweetheart.” You could hear his smile in his voice. You blinked again and realized you were still in your fucking office.

He must have felt you stiffen at the realization because he pulled back to look at you and grinned. “Yeah, honey, still here.” You shook your head and groaned.

You sank down against him and he pulled you into his arms in a tight embrace. You both just breathed each other in, resting against each other as you came down. 

“Can’t believe I forgot where we were,” you whispered, and he chuckled. 

“S’alright, honey, I almost did, too. Was pretty close to forgetting my own name when your mouth was on my cock.”

You pressed a kiss to his neck and smiled. “I know we can’t do this everyday, Joel, but damn.”

He nodded. “Yeah, we’d definitely get sloppy and get caught, probably.”

You snorted, and managed, “already pretty sloppy over here, cowboy.” He huffed a laugh and squeezed one of your ass cheeks in his palm. 

“That’s the way I like it.”

You nuzzled your nose into his neck, and let yourself relax into his embrace. For a moment, neither of you moved, but you could almost feel Joel thinking hard about something. You nudged him gently, encouraging him. 

“Sarah told me I couldn’t stop talking about you and it was embarrassin’, this weekend.” You blinked at the apparent non sequitur. “I didn’t tell her that if it were my choice, I’d have talked about you even more. I was tonin’ it down.”

You laughed. “You have that much to say about me, hmm?” 

He tilted his head down and nudged his forehead against yours. “Course I do, sweetheart.” He paused, but it didn’t seem like he was finished.

“What?” He sighed. “Joel, what is it?”

A knock at the door interrupted and startled you both. You shoved yourself to a standing position and quickly pulled your clothes into position, smoothing them into place. You eyed Joel to make sure he was decent. He nodded, but reached out to fiddle with your collar for a moment before sitting in one of the chairs in front of your desk. You took a deep breath before opening the door.

To your displeasure, Trevor was standing on the other side.

“Oh, hi Trevor,” you could hear the irritation in your voice and tried to tamp it down. “What did you need?”

He eyed you, and then looked past you. The sight of Joel apparently surprised him because his eyebrows rose and he took a step back. Then his face twisted into his familiar scowl.

“Another maintenance request? What have you been doing to your office?”

You sighed and tried not to roll your eyes. “We’re just having lunch, Trevor. If you don't need anything I’ll see you at the meeting in a few minutes.”

For a moment he didn’t move, gaze bouncing back and forth between you and Joel. 

“Er, no. Not as such. I’ll see you there. Don’t be late.” As always his tone grated against your nerves, and after you’d closed the door again you locked it and gave in to the desire to roll your eyes.

You turned around to find Joel grinning at you.

“What?” You studied him, confused.

“Sarah told me about your nickname for him.” You felt the heat rise in your cheeks again and you sighed. 

“Sorry, I–”

“No, darlin’, I like it. It was funny. You can’t do worse than Tommy with the swearin’, anyway, and besides,” he shrugged. “He really is a prick.”

You laughed and shook your head. You stepped closer to Joel again and rested your hands on his shoulders as his own came to grasp your hips. 

“What did you want to tell me?” you asked, recalling his hesitation from a moment before. 

Joel cleared his throat, looking up at you. “Um, right. I know we haven’t talked about it yet, but I have to tell you – this weekend, when my family asked about you. I called you my girlfriend without thinking about it. Is that– um, is that alright?”

You grinned at him. “Joel, that is more than alright.” You leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, before pulling away to catch his eye again. 

“As long as I can call you my boyfriend.” Joel grinned so wide you watched the crinkles form and deepen in the corners of his eyes. 

“Well I do like the sound of that, sweetheart,” he murmured as he pulled you down for another kiss. 

…

you (5:32 PM): so uh (5:33 PM): you know how I said I wouldn’t have sex in my office

bestie (5:34 PM): no FUCKING way (5:35 PM): I am calling you in 30 seconds and if you don’t answer I am driving to your apartment (5:35 PM): !!!

you (5:36 PM): 🙄

...

a/n: it's official! and so is the office sex. lmao see you next Friday!

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@joelalorian @untamedheart81 @ashleyfilm @jessthebaker @jeewrites

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#joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fic #tlou fic #x reader #maintenance request fic #JHCGBDM

[daisynik7]

Hi can I have nanami with a reader who has severe daddy issues(self projection at its finest🧍‍♀️🧍‍♀️)

cw: romance and smut

Author’s Note: Hi nonnie! Thank you for this request, I hope I did it justice! Let me know what you think!

You meet Nanami for the first time at a bar one Saturday night. Or maybe it’s a Friday night. The details are fuzzy, mostly because all you can focus on is the warmth of his tongue inside your mouth. The delicate graze of his hand on your cheek. The faint taste of liquor on your lips as he kisses you against the front door. You’re both tipsy, enough to loosen your inhibitions, not enough to regret what you’re about to do. 

He goes home with you tonight. It’s not supposed to be special. Another run of the mill one night stand, something you’re familiar with. One of the few things you have control over. It’s always just sex, nothing more. You’re not a commitment type of person. There’s not a man out in this world that you can trust anymore, not after the issues you inherited from your shitty childhood. Life is easier being alone, only having yourself to worry about. It’s better. 

You can admit, though, that he’s a fantastic kisser. He moves his mouth against yours so seamlessly, even in the pitch black of your apartment. You guide him deeper into your home, leading him into the bedroom, where he fumbles with the wall, trying to find the switch. Before he can, you grab him, pushing him forcefully onto the bed. You don’t say it explicitly. There’s no need to, not when you’re done with him after tonight. The thing is, you don’t fuck anyone with the lights on. It’s too intimate, makes it all seem like something more than what it is. You don’t need him to see you, and you don’t need to see him. It’s better this way. 

Luckily, he doesn’t question it. He probably thinks you’re too horny and too eager to even bother with lights, and you let him believe that. With both of your clothes stripped off, him naked on top of your bed, you straddle him, positioning his hard cock at your entrance. 

“Wait,” he says.

You stay still as he stares at you, cupping your face, thumb brushing lightly against your cheekbone. The moon shines dimly through the shades of your window, barely making out your silhouettes in the dark. His eyes are open, watching you intently, gaze following your figure up and down, back up again. “You’re beautiful.”

Before he can say anything else, you sink down onto his cock. He’s an even better fuck than you expected. He bounces you easily on his lap, fucking your sweet spot until you’re unraveling above him. Body more pliant now, he repositions you flat on your stomach, pulling your hips towards the edge of the bed, where he stands. He fucks you again, doggy style, mouth biting into the pillow to mute your wanton moans. His hips thrust into you erratically, sending the both of you into a fucked-out frenzy. He pulls out, shooting his load onto your back.

He mutters an apology, blindly grabbing at the tissue box on your nightstand to clean up his mess. You ignore him, not because you’re upset, but because you have nothing else to say. In theory, this should be over. He should leave. That’s the way it always goes. You don’t like letting your hook-ups spend the night.  

It shocks you when he wraps his arms around you, spooning you from behind. You almost want to shove him off, yell at him for breaking your secret rules. But even you can admit that this feels nice. He holds you with such tenderness, despite his primal behavior just a few minutes ago. He doesn’t speak, understanding that he doesn’t need to. It’s like he’s got you figured out, or he thinks he does. You’re too spent to overanalyze it, so you let him stay.

The next morning, he offers to cook you breakfast. And sure, you could easily do it yourself. But he’s insistent on it, so you let him, watching him mosey around your kitchen, cooking perfectly scrambled eggs to go along with avocado and toast. It’s not as uncomfortable as you thought it’d be. In fact, it’s not uncomfortable at all. Maybe because he doesn’t pry into your personal life. 

Eventually, he says, “I’d like to see you again.” He sits across from you on the dining table, plate clean of the meal he just prepared.

You fold your arms over your chest, swallowing your last bite of food. “Look, Nanami. I don’t really do this. I’m not looking for a relationship.”

He copies your stance, matching your energy. “I’m not either. That’s why I think this could work out.”

“How so?”

“Two cynical people, not looking for love. Sounds like a perfect match.” The assumption doesn’t bother you because he’s correct. It also helps that he admits it about himself, too.

You scoff. “More like a disaster.” You lean back against your seat, thinking out loud. “If you’re trying to fix me, you can’t.”

“You don’t have to worry about that. I don’t need to fix someone who isn’t broken.”

You lean forward, studying him. “You don’t know anything about me. What if I hurt you?”

“I think I can take it,” he says, a small grin on his face. 

It’s silent for a few moments as you ponder his proposition. It’ll take the work out of trying to find a new boy toy to fuck every weekend. Besides, Nanami is leagues above any of the other flings you’ve had, though you’ll never admit that to him. Finally, you agree to give it a shot. You’re certain it’ll end soon anyways, what’s the harm in giving it a try? You exchange numbers, granting him free reign to contact you whenever he’s in the mood and vice versa. It feels like a business deal, especially when you shake on it, his grip firm, eyes locked on yours.

For the next couple of weeks, you and Nanami meet frequently, either at his place or yours. It’s the best sex you’ve ever had. Tonight, he eats you out through your lace panties, soaked in your slick and his saliva. His fingers slip past the fabric and inside you, curling towards your G-spot. The lights are off again; you never do it with them on. It’s a rule that he’s followed loyally, still without question. He makes you come within minutes, lips now wrapped on your swollen bud, panties stretched to the side. “You taste so good,” he muffles against your skin. “Love it when you come on my tongue.”

You giggle, fist in his hair, his soft tufts between your fingers. “You love this pussy?”

He nods, staring up at you, still lapping at your clit. “I do.”

He makes you come once more before moving up the bed, beckoning you onto his lap. This time, he reaches for the lamp, fingers on the cord, looking at you. “Can I?”

It’s the first time he asks, and surprisingly, it doesn’t catch you off guard. Without a second thought, you answer, “Yes.”

When the light turns on, you expect some type of epiphany or mental breakdown. But in all honestly, it’s none of that. Nothing really changes. It’s normal. 

Before you lower yourself onto him, he caresses your cheek, giving you the same expression he’s given you before. Eyes roaming up and down your body, indulging in this erotic sight of you on top of him. “You’re beautiful.”

He doesn’t look at you any different in the glow of the lamp light. You’re beautiful with or without it, still unbroken, perfectly imperfect, just like him. The only difference is that it’s easier to see. And while you’re exposed and bare for him, you don’t feel vulnerable. You feel safe. 

Soon after this, your little arrangement fizzles out and blossoms into something real. 

#requests #nanami smut #kento nanami #nanami kento #nanami fanfic #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #kento nanami x reader #jujutsu nanami #jjk nanami #jujutsu kaisen nanami

[cptnleviackerman]

╰─▸ ❝ jean kirstein ❞ ˋ*ੈ*⁀➷

content - dad jean, shy jean, cheating, divorce, jean has an ex wife, x f reader

I watched a movie last night and now all I can think about is single dad!jean who is just getting over his messy divorce. he's got a wonderful daughter who means the world to him, and he does everything he can to keep her safe and happy, and even though it's hard for him, he still makes sure she sees her mother as regularly as possible—even though it causes him massive amounts of pain to see how happy and carefree his ex wife is with her new partner.

best friend connie who keeps begging jean to go out to a bar for a couple drinks with him. he asks every single friday (and saturday), and jean is always adamant that he's just not ready to get back out there and start dating. but one night he finally caves and says yes, his daughter is spending the night with her mother and he doesn't want to sit alone is his small, despressingly bare apartment by himself. so he dresses up as best he can and meets connie for a drink. and that's where he meets you for the first time.

you catch his eye as soon as you walk in the room, and he's not the only one who's watching you. he sees a couple of dudes try and buy you a drink, and you shoot them down before they've even had a chance to introduce themselves. connie catches jean staring and practically drags him towards you, pushing jean into the chair opposite you and leaving as soon as he's introduced jean to you.

jean completely fumbles the interaction, he tries to use numerous pick up lines on you—all which fail—and his compliments are completely over the top and it's clear he has no idea what he's doing. you try to excuse yourself, but he practically begs you not to leave. upon realising what a terrible flirter he is jean decides to tell the truth about his situation, rather than pretend to be a flirt and a ladies man. he tells you it's his first time trying to pick up someone in a bar, and that he's never been any good at flirting. he tells you all about his messy divorce, and how he was cheated on and that it basically wrecked his entire life—the only positive from his marriage being that he has the most amazing daughter in the world. he tells you that he hasn't been on any kind of first date since he was 15 and that he has absolutely no idea how to approach a woman as beautiful as you.

you think his honesty is sweet, and that he's a much easier guy to talk to than anyone else in this stupid bar, so you ask him to take you home. he's embarrassed to take you to his apartment but you aren't paying the rooms or decor any notice. as soon as you get past the door your lips are attached to his neck, and you find out that although he cannot flirt for the life of him, he is an amazing kisser, and probably the most giving guy you've ever been with.

you leave the next morning, and he promises to call you. his heart hasn't felt as light as this since...he can't even remember. he thinks about you for days, but is so nervous to call you. all he can manage is sending a short text to you, saying [hi! hope you're doing well, thanks for the great night. I would love to see you again.] you smile when you receive it, but your job is so demanding that you don't get the chance to reply for a while and the text completely slips your mind as you prep for an important night of meetings.

jean doesn't feel good about how long it's been since he texted you, and he wants to see you again. soon. so he decides to call you after his daughter's parents teacher conference. he sits with his ex wife, awaiting their turn, outside of the classroom door. but when the teacher calls out to let them know that they can enter the classroom, he walks in and is met with the sight of you, standing behind the desk, arm extended ready to shake hands with the parents you'd just called in.

the woman he'd hooked up with from the bar was his daughter's teacher?

you sit in front of jean, utterly humiliated at the situation, and you watch as his face reddens when his ex wife notices the tension and begins to ask if the two of you had met before. you speak before jean can, and assure her that you've never met before, and that you're just feeling overwhelmed from all the parents you've met today. she seems to believe it, but when jean catches your eye and smiles uncharacteristically shyly, she feels a bubble of jealousy rise in her chest.

luckily the meeting goes without a hitch after that, their daughter is doing perfectly well in class, all she needs to do is try to participate in class discussions a bit more.

jean and his ex wife were your last meeting of the evening, and you watch as he hastily bids farewell to his ex, stumbling over his words and looking around nervously. you smile when he hangs around in the doorway after she's left, seemingly trying to find the courage to come and say something to you.

you finish collecting your things and walk towards jean, who's now pacing back and forth in the corridor. he jumps when he sees you, but smiles warmly at your presence. before you have the chance to say anything about how awkward that meeting was, words are tumbling from jeans mouth:

"im so sorry I haven't called you yet, I had absolutely no idea what to say to you and I didn't want to say the wrong thing and scare you off. which I now realise is stupid because you wouldn't have asked me to take you home if you didn't at least like me a little bit but I didn't want to come on too strong and—"

"jean, it's okay. just ask me to dinner."

"yeah? okay. will you have dinner with me...tomorrow?"

"yes, I'd love to have dinner with you."

the two of you walk out to the car park together, and jean opens your car door for you. he bids you goodbye, and tells you how much he's looking forward to dinner tomorrow. and you smile, a warm feeling blossoming in your chest as you reply that you can't wait to see him again.

tagging: @cowgirlikets (tysm for asking to be tagged !! love to u)

#he's so....babygirl #i adored writing for dad jean #i want to write for him more #imagine him all shy and blushing when the two of you go out together #ugh but also imagine dad jean dating someone younger than him and how conflicted he would be.... oh god i need him #want to come onto him and show him that just bc im younger doesnt mean he cant fuck me... #want to corrupt his morals...and have him corrupt me... #fuck i have to write this #anyways #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein fic #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirschtein fic #jean kirstein x you #sage.blurbs

[604to647]

Safest with You - Ch. 5 (The Courtship)

2.7K / Modern AU Retired Mob Enforcer!Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: A week's time passes before your next date with Din and you can hardly wait.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please), Just more fluff (but horny fluff?), lots of making out again, reader is horny as heck, mention of alcohol consumption (reader gets a little tipsy), usual pet names (pretty bird, sweetheart, pretty girl, etc.), ONE "good girl", ONE dick joke.

A/N: Can you tell my love language is acts of service? 🥰 As this takes place over the course of a week, I'm using a brand new divider by the wonderful @saradika-graphics to help denote the passage of time. Thank you for all the support! Sorry for the slow burn!

Optional musical soundtrack: Seven by Jung Kook & Latto (Clean version)

Series Masterlist

“He wants to court you?!”

Hands covering your blushing face, you peek through your fingers, “That’s the exact word he used.”

“I thought you said he was in his 40s, not from the 1840s,” jokes Bea.

The usual brunch group dissolves into fits of laughter. “I felt like a silent movie villain twirling my mustache, trying to steal his virtue,” you giggle, “He was so sweet about it though, I think it might be kind of nice… to not… get railed.” The table roars.

Rory looks serious, “Honestly, babe.  Any way he makes you happy, as long as you’re happy…”

“I’m happy”, you smile dreamily.

“…but next week you better come to brunch with a sex limp.”

Your mortified waiter chooses this moment to set down the mimosas and you cry actual tears from laughing so hard.

The next week turns out to be crazy busy for you at work; a project deadline gets pushed up to the Friday and you know all your week nights are spoken for.  You share with Din your disappointment that you won’t be free for a second date until the work week is over. 

“I’m sad too, pretty bird.  How about I plan a nice relaxing date for Saturday, help you decompress after your hard week?”

You almost say that you can think of something specific he could do to help you decompress, but you think Monday morning might be too early for you to be so horny.  Instead, you thank him for his thoughtfulness and tell him you can’t wait, “It’s a date.”

Your day is so full of meetings and review that you barely leave you desk; the periodic messages in the GC or from Din checking in on you are some of your only moments of reprieve during your hectic day.

At 6:30 pm your stomach rumbles, and you realize you haven’t eaten all day; groaning, you realize you’re looking at at least 3 more hours of work before you can go home and heat something up.  You hear your name and you look up to see one of your team members escorting Din off the elevator and pointing towards your office.

He’s a sight for your tired eyes and you melt into his open arms, ““Hi! This is a nice surprise.  What are you doing here?”  Din’s arm wraps around you, then reaches up to give your tired shoulders a brief but deep massage before he pulls back to show you the brown bag he has in his other hand.

“Know you didn’t eat lunch today, pretty girl. Thought you might be in danger of forgetting dinner, too.”

You could cry from the gesture.  Pulling him into your office and closing the door, you kiss him quickly but tenderly, “Thank you for taking care of me.”

“My pleasure. Now eat.”

Din sits and waits for you to start digging in before getting up to go.  You ask about his dinner, and if he wants to share yours – but he lets you know he understands you have a lot work and he doesn’t want to distract you; he had been worried he was overstepping by showing up unannounced at your place of work, but seeing how ravenous you are for the food he brought, he’s glad he came.  You wave off his concerns, and give him your approval of his takeout choice in between big bites.  When he hears that you think you might not be able to get away until close to 10 pm, he frowns, “Text me when you’re 5 minutes away from leaving, I’ll come pick you up.”

“It’s oka—”

He stops you with a kiss on your forehead, “I’ll feel better if I can see you safely home at that hour.  Can you do that for me, pretty bird?”

You nod, touched.

At 10:10 pm, Din is waiting outside your office, leaning against his truck and watching you wave goodbye to your co-workers, joke crying that you’ll see each other again in less than 10 hours.  You’re so tired you close your eyes and lean your head against Din’s shoulder as he drives; he holds your hand the entire way home.

Din waits downstairs while you go in and get Al, walking him with you the same way he did the other night. Before sending you upstairs afterwards, he wraps you up in his arms, once again running his hands firmly over the stiffness in your back from sitting at your desk all day, kissing you long and hard.  Barely keeping his breathing under control, Din whispers, “Missed you today, baby.” You pull yourself closer to Din, tilting your head back far enough to rest your chin on his chest and look deep in his eyes; playing with the curls at the base of his neck, you mouth, “Me too,” before opening up your mouth to his one last time before going in.

The next day, Tuesday, Din brings you lunch (“Can’t have you missing your lunch again, sweetheart”) and sits with you while you eat at your desk, watching you answer emails and the occasional question from a colleague who pops into your office.  You don’t have to work quite so late today, and are able get home at a reasonable hour (8 pm?) to have dinner.  Din still comes by later that night after closing up the gym to walk the dog, and also to bring you another surprise: your dry-cleaning from Peli’s.  So glad to be spared the errand, you thank Din with a grateful kiss before asking him how much you owe him.  Din gives you a look, to which you respond with a look of your own before sighing, “I’m too tired to do this right now, but this isn’t over, Djarin.”  Din puts his hands up in mock surrender and grins, “Anything you say, pretty bird.”

Before parting for the evening, the two of you make out like teenagers: hurried and excited, sometimes clashing teeth and bumping noses from impatience, then giggling before crashing your mouths together again. 

On Wednesday, Din brings you dinner again and this time, brings enough for your whole team.  After accepting their copious thanks, at your insistence that he isn’t a distraction, he stays and eats with you this time.  You happily let yourself escape a little from work through easy conversation with Din; he’s also easy on the eyes tonight in casual sweats, and you try to maintain a modicum of professionalism at work by not letting your eyes and thoughts drift down past the waistband of his sweatpants.  For being semi-successful, you allow yourself a few less than professional kisses after dinner.  His visit leaves you rejuvenated, and you power through the remainder of your work, missing Din already and eager to see him again for your nightly dog walk.  Al has adapted quickly to the new routine, and after the walk, lays down on the sidewalk, seemingly waiting for you and Din to have your nightly make out session.  Tonight, Din has you cradled against his shoulder, hands running over your body and face in long gentle strokes.  He knows you’re exhausted from work, and wants more than anything to relax you so he can send you upstairs pliant and languid, in hopes you’ll fall into bed right away and get the rest you need.  Your kisses tonight are unhurried, long and sweet.  You’re already half asleep when Din finally releases you and sends you in with a gentle pat on your rear.

Thursday turns out to be you and your team’s longest, hardest day, the last full work day before the Friday deadline.  Din picks you up very late from the office, and you take up your usual position, resting your head on his shoulders while he drives.  This time though, you’re wide awake, jazzed up from your team’s progress and how close you all are to pulling everything off.  Din holds your hand just like the drive on Monday, but periodically brings it to his lips to pepper your knuckles with light kisses.  As he drives, you can’t help but stare at the hand that rests on the wheel, and how it flexes as he steers one-handedly.  You can barely conceal how much you want this man to touch you; you steal glances at Din’s handsome profile as he concentrates on the road, squirming in your seat the entire drive.  Heat and desire bubble below your stomach as you hope that same hand grips your body hard tonight when his mouth ravages yours.

As if you were clairvoyant, tonight’s post-dog walk make-out session is hungry and intense.  At one point, Din has you pressed up against your building, heavy breathing while his hands roam up and down your sides, close to but never groping your breasts.  You’re worked up and needy and you let Din know by moaning into his mouth as he kisses you.  Din looks sternly at you, panting, “You can’t be making those pretty noises, baby.  You’ll drive me crazy.”

Giving him a little smirk, you push up on your tip toes and kiss him open mouthed, this time making sure to press your core against his thigh and give him a drawn out, throaty groan.

Din breaks this kiss by gripping the hands on your waist tighter, and placing you firmly back on your feet, “Now, I thought you were going to be my good girl.”

Your eyes widen, his words shooting straight to the throbbing spot between your legs; “Fuck,” you breathe.

Din hadn’t expected this reaction, but he quickly catches on, “Oh you like that, do you?”

“Mmmhmmm,” you whimper, as you close your eyes and Din slots his mouth over yours again; neither of you even trying to stop your moans this time as the kisses get deeper and harder.

“Fuck,” whispers Din when he finally comes up for air, “I’m in so much trouble.”

You look up at him, slightly stunned and unfocused, “Me too.”

Din gently cups your face and looks at you with seriousness, “Pretty bird, I hope you know just how much I want you.  You feel so good. And sound so good, too.  You’re also… precious to me; I want to take my time with you, okay?”

“Okay,” you murmur as you pull him back in for a series of soft kisses, “Al says you can take your time.”

Friday passes in a frenzy with last minute prep for the deadline presentation.  Everything goes off without a hitch, and the whole team ends the day early, opting to go out for afternoon drinks and then dinner to celebrate hard work and a job well done.  When you talk to Din before heading out, he gives you a hearty congratulations and tells you to have a great time, offering to give you a ride home after (extending the kind offer to your co-workers as well),  “Have a good time, pretty bird.  You deserve it.”

Afternoon drinks plus dinner wine, plus post dinner celebratory champagne have you feeling giddy and buzzed by the time you ask Din to pick you up.  You’re not drunk, but you’re carefree, happy and your inhibitions are definitely down.  And all you want is Din.  You want to see his lazy grin.  You want to run your hands over his broad back as he hugs you.  You want his hands and mouth on you.  You want him.  You practically climb into his arms when you see him waiting for you outside the bar.

Din laughs warmly, “Had a good time, sweet girl?”

“Mmmmmhmmmm,” you hum, face buried in his neck. Fuck, he smells good. 

Brushing the hair away from your face, he takes in your goofy grin and bright eyes, trying to assess if you’re drunk, but is cut short when you pounce and kiss him with hurried eagerness.  He grins against your mouth; yep, you’re tipsy.  And it’s making you even more incorrigible and adorable than usual; Din isn’t sure he can resist you like this, but he’s going to try, “Okay, let’s get you home, sweetheart.”

Din helps you into the car, and after you buckle yourself in, he gives you a chaste kiss on your head before closing the door.  While he is rounding the car, you can’t help but pout a little.  Din said he wants you, but you feel like you definitely want him more – you can barely keep from jumping him at every opportunity, and he seems to remain ever calm and sometimes unreadable, resisting your (albeit mild) advances with little to no effort.

Holding your hand again as he drives, Din notices you don’t rest your head against his shoulder like usual; he looks over and observes a somewhat melancholy look on your face as you look out the window.  He gives your hand a little squeeze, “Everything okay, pretty bird? Why do you look kind of sad?”

Even under normal circumstances you consider yourself a fairly direct person, preferring to address things rather than let them simmer, but the alcohol tonight is making you downright brave, and you let your feelings pour out ineloquently, “Don’t get me wrong, Din - I don’t mind waiting and taking things slow. And I think it’s really sweet you want to, so I’m not trying to put any pressure on.  But…I guess I’m just feeling kind of sad that I’m the only one who finds waiting hard."

Maybe you are drunk; your words sound a little bratty even to your ears, but you don’t know how else to express your likely unwarranted feelings of rejection.  Feeling a little embarrassed for being so needy, you look down at your lap.

If you didn’t have such a sad expression on your face, Din might have laughed at the idea that it’s been easy for him to keep his hands off of you.  At every turn, your charm and pretty face threaten to make him snap, and it consistently takes every ounce of his discipline and self control to not break his resolve and take you hard on the closest available surface.  All he wants to do, all he thinks about is making you feel good; not a night goes by where he doesn’t imagine what you might look like underneath him, crying out his name while he gives you every ounce of pleasure that he can.  The car idles at a stoplight and Din reaches over to tuck a piece of hair behind your ear and then trails his fingers down you jaw, gently pinching your chin and turning your face up to look at his.  “Sweet girl, please don’t feel that way.  It’s not true,” he grins bashfully.

“It isn’t?”

“Not at all. You’re not the only one; it’s hard for me too.” He tilts his head down, nodding slightly at his lap and you follow his gaze to the crotch of his pants.  Your eyes widen at what you see.  It’s a monster.  You clasp your hand over your mouth to stifle a nervous laugh; how is that suppose to fit??

Din starts moving the car again and, in a way that’s clearly tongue in cheek, teases, “Excuse me, missy.  Are you laughing at my erection?”

You giggle and can’t pass up the opportunity, “You said ‘it’s hard for me too’,” and laugh so hard, you snort.

Din’s laugh booms throughout the car.  And just like that, your little crisis of self doubt is averted, and the two of you are laughing uncontrollably, grinning like idiots.  It’s not lost on Din how amazing this feels: even with dumb dick jokes and the promise of no sex, he is completely enamoured with you.

Tonight, the kisses are positively sinful.  Deep and passionate; you’re pressed up against the wall again, but this time Din has you caged in with his forearm braced above your head, possessive of your body.  His other hand cupping the back of your head, pulling you in for kiss after kiss: hungry kisses on your lips, hurried kisses down your neck, breathy kisses behind your ears.  Your hands are fisted into his shirt, both of you pulling each other in for more, more. More.

You’re the one to pull away first, needing to catch your breath; Din touches his forehead to yours, “See you tomorrow for our second date, pretty bird.”

Dazed, you remember it’s only been a week and one date with Din.  How are you ever going to survive this man?

#din djarin #din djarin fluff #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin fic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal characters fanfiction #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x f!reader #modern au #modern!din djarin #no y/n

[its-the-pilot]

Waves | 8 | Rooster x Reader

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Summary: You and Bradley go sailing with Penny and Amelia. (Mav's niece!reader)

Warnings: swearing, adult banter

Length: 3k words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

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Chapter Eight

The rest of your Saturday was devoted to watching TV, sharing good food, and enjoying each other's company. It was a rare occasion for you to unwind, as you typically used your free time for household tasks, so spending the day lazing around with Bradley came as a welcome change of pace. When you finally curled up in bed together that night, it felt as though a heavy weight you hadn't even realized you were carrying had been lifted.

Sunday morning found the two of you intertwined, not unlike the previous morning. The only difference was that both of you were startled awake by a loud knocking at the front door. Lifting your head, you looked over Bradley’s shoulder at your alarm clock and whimpered at the time. 0700. 

You dropped your head to his chest for a moment, but when the knocking didn’t stop, you grumbled and moved to get up only to have Bradley stop you. “I’ll get it, you stay here,” he offered, kissing your forehead before sliding off the bed wearing only his boxer briefs.

Rubbing a hand over his sleepy face on his way to the door, he pulled it open to find Penny and a young girl standing on your porch. Penny was surprised by his state of undress, immediately covering her daughter Amelia’s eyes. Without missing a beat, he grabbed a magazine from the table beside your door and used it as a makeshift cover. 

“Morning, Penny,” he greeted, clearing his throat. He was definitely fully awake now.   

“Good morning, Lieutenant,” she replied, looking him over. She had seen the Bronco parked in your driveway since Friday night, but she hadn't expected him to answer the door like he owned the place. “I’m assuming she’s still in bed?”

Bradley nodded. “That she is,” he confirmed, opening the door further so they could come inside. “Let me go get her.”

Penny stepped inside with Amelia, finally uncovering her eyes when the pilot entered the hallway. “And get some pants, Bradshaw.” “Yes ma’am,” he called back, already halfway to the bedroom. He found you curled up on the spot he had vacated, basking in the warmth he left behind. “Penny’s here. And I’m guessing it’s her kid with her?”

You sat up immediately, watching him pull on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt from his bag. “Shit. I promised we’d go sailing today,” you explained, throwing your messy hair in a bun as you walked out to the living room in your pajamas, Bradley following behind you.

Penny gave you a knowing look as you approached, letting you know there would be a conversation later. “Amelia, this is Bradley,” you pulled him to stand beside you as you introduced him. “Brad, this is Penny's daughter, Amelia.”

“It's nice to meet you, Amelia,” he greeted with a smile.

“Did you forget?” Amelia asked, a slight frown on her face. When her mother poked her, she looked up at Bradley. “Sorry. Nice to meet you.”

“I did, Ames, I’m sorry,” you apologized, feeling awful. The trip had been planned weeks earlier, pushed back week after week due to your work schedule, and here you were about to cancel again. 

Bradley squeezed your shoulder gently, hearing the disappointment in your voice. “You can still go, Dimples. I’ve got stuff I can take care of on base.” “Or you could join us, Lieutenant,” Penny offered, interested to observe the two of you together over the course of the day. “If you want, of course.”

You gave a hopeful look to the man at your side, not wanting to disappoint Amelia. When he nodded with a smile, you bounced happily on your toes and turned back to the pair. “Give us a minute to get dressed and we can go.”

Heading back into the bedroom, you pulled out some clothes and gave Bradley another smile as you ducked into the bathroom. When you came out a few minutes later, you were both dressed, Bradley wearing a UVA t-shirt and jeans, while you had put on a white one-piece swimsuit and shorts. 

“Ready to go?” He asked, not bothering to hide the way his eyes moved over your body. 

You nodded, turning to grab the sunblock off of your dresser and tucking it into your bag alongside some towels and a spare shirt. “Behave today, Amelia's only 11,” you warned, giving him a peck on the lips. 

“Can't help that I enjoy looking at you,” he teased, taking your hand and heading back out to the living room where your guests were waiting. 

The decision was made to take Bradley’s Bronco rather than Penny’s Porsche due to his last minute inclusion, and the drive to the dock was filled with loud singing to classic rock songs. Once you arrived, Bradley was recruited to carry the cooler filled with food and drinks for the day while the rest of you brought the towels and bags to the boat. 

“Have you been sailing before?” Amelia asked, walking side by side with Bradley. 

“Y’know, I haven’t. Only ever been on aircraft carriers,” he explained, looking down at the young girl with a smile and a wink. “You can teach me the ropes though, right?”

Amelia beamed, excited at the opportunity to share her knowledge. “Sure! It’s easy once you get the hang of it. I’ll show you how to trim the sails and steer the boat.”

As you boarded the sailboat, everyone pitched in to prepare for the trip. Bradley stuck by Amelia’s side, catching your gaze every once in a while as he followed her instructions to the letter, prepping the sails for departure. Once the boat was out in open water, Penny allowed Amelia and Bradley to take the helm, joining you at the bow of the boat

“I’m glad you two came along today, Amelia’s been looking forward to this trip for weeks,” Penny smiled, offering you a bottle of water as she sat beside you, both your legs dangling over the side. The water was calm, one of the reasons she was comfortable leaving her 11-year-old in charge.

You accepted the water and took a sip. “Sorry I’ve had to cancel so much. They’ve got me doing a lot more with this class.”

“Plus, you’ve had an aviator keeping you busy,” she teased, nudging your shoulder with a grin. 

A blush crept onto your cheeks as your eyes wandered over to Bradley. The way he interacted with Amelia warmed your heart, you didn’t know that they would take to each other so quickly. “That’s… new. We’re just spending time together.”

“I noticed,” Penny gave you a knowing look. “Sometimes spending time together is enough. How are you feeling about everything?” she asked, recalling what she knew about your prior relationships, especially with Bradley.

“It’s been so long since we were together last, we’re still trying to figure out where this is going,” you sighed, looking down at your feet as they hung over the water. “I still feel drawn to him, though. He’s changed a lot, but I can still see the boy I loved back when I was 16. Is that crazy?”

Penny shook her head and smiled, looking over at Bradley and her daughter, the pair completely engrossed in sailing the boat. “Not at all. I just worry… have you talked about what happens when he graduates?”

You furrowed your brow, realizing that you hadn’t discussed it fully yet. He was only in Coronado for the thirteen weeks it took to graduate from TOP GUN, and then he would return to his squadron at NAS Oceana. 

He would be in Virginia. 2,700 miles away.

“I guess I haven't really thought about it,” you admitted. “We’ve been enjoying our time together, but I don’t know how we’ll handle the distance. We never got a chance to try before, he just left.”

Penny shook her head. “You need to, before things get more involved. I know you can handle yourself, I just don't want you getting hurt.”

“I think we're both wanting it to work this time, Pen,” you said, looking out over the water. At least, that was what you hoped. Bradley had been your first love, your first kiss, your first everything. Even your first heartbreak. But that reality didn't stop the fact that you felt something when you looked at him that no one else had ever made you feel. 

“I hope so, hun. You deserve some happiness, and I can tell he makes you happy,” she squeezed your hand and stood, heading toward the helm where Amelia and Bradley were chatting. “How's it goin’, you two?”

“Your daughter is a great teacher,” Bradley smiled, letting Amelia take the wheel back. “Pretty sure she's gonna try to give me a test later.”

“Oh yeah?” Penny laughed, ruffling her daughter’s hair. “She loves sailing, and she's a natural.”

“Bradley's a pretty good first mate,” Amelia added, smiling up to her mother. “Can we stop for lunch now?”

Penny nodded, taking over control of the boat as they closed in on the island they planned on visiting. “Sounds good to me, wanna show Bradley how to get the anchor ready?”

The next few minutes were a flurry of activity as Amelia and Bradley took the sails down and Penny took the boat up to the small dock on the beach. Once the anchor was down and the boat was secure, everyone unloaded and set up a spot on the sand to eat lunch and relax for a while. 

You ate sandwiches and chips over casual conversation, enjoying each other’s company. After lunch you leaned back against Bradley as you sat on the beach, watching Amelia and Penny throw a frisbee back and forth. 

“Thanks for coming,” you spoke up, tipping your head back against his shoulder to look at him. “It means a lot to me. And you looked like you were having a good time.”

Bradley smiled, his arm wrapped around your middle. “I plan on making the most of any time we get together,” he promised, turning your chin to kiss you tenderly. “Plus I got a crash course in sailing from a pro. I can see why you’re so close with Penny and Amelia.”

As you relaxed into him, you couldn’t stop yourself from hoping that the day would never end. The weekend had been perfect, a little bubble protecting you both from the reality that laid ahead. You both looked out at the water in silence for a while longer before Bradley spoke again, his voice low against your ear.

“I’m in for the long haul, whatever that looks like. Just so you know.” His voice was sincere as his fingers laced through yours and gave them a gentle squeeze.

You lifted your head and met his hazel eyes, surprise clear on your face at his words. “I… I didn’t…” You started, wondering if he had overheard your conversation with Penny earlier. “I know we haven’t talked about it much, but--”

He cut you off with a tender kiss, his calloused fingers gently caressing your jaw. “I meant what I said the other night,” he whispered, his lips impossibly close to yours as he spoke, your foreheads touching. “I want us to last.”

Tears pricked at your eyes and you looked away, leading Bradley to kiss your temple with a soft chuckle. “We can talk when we get back, okay? Let’s just enjoy the rest of the afternoon here.”

You nodded and settled back against him, feeling safe and secure in his arms. It wasn’t until Amelia started getting tired of running around an hour or so later that everything was packed back onto the boat and Penny sailed you home. The sun was just beginning to set when you got back to Coronado, and by the time the Bronco pulled into your driveway the sky was a beautiful pink and orange color. 

“Thanks for having us, Penny,” Bradley smiled, watching you hug Amelia, picking her up and spinning around with her. “I know I learned a lot.”

“Anytime, Lieutenant,” she replied, foregoing the hand he offered and hugging him, whispering in his ear. “Take care of our girl, huh? She’s happy, keep it that way.”

“I’ll do my best,” he promised, parting from Penny as soon as you came back to his side. “Goodnight, you two. Thanks for the training today, Amelia.”

The girl smiled, turning back halfway to her house next door. “Next time you can be Captain!”

You looked up at him as the pair went into their house, leaving you standing in the driveway with Bradley. “Next time, huh? Sounds like you made a friend.”

Bradley grinned, slipping his arm around your waist as you both walked towards your front door. "Seems like it. Amelia's a cool kid. I think I've got a future sailing buddy."

You chuckled, unlocking the door. "Well, I'm glad you hit it off. She took to you faster than I expected."

"Kids are pretty perceptive," he mused, following you inside and into the kitchen, watching from his spot leaning against the counter as you pulled some food out for dinner. 

“Meaning they can identify one of their own?” You teased, setting ingredients out on the counter and pulling out a pan. He laughed, moving to wrap his arms around you from behind. “Are you saying I’m a child?”

“Only sometimes,” you smirked, tilting your head back to kiss his jaw. “Go relax while I cook, it’ll be a while.”

Bradley nuzzled your ear and nodded. “Alright, I’ll go jump in the shower,” he mumbled against your skin before reluctantly pulling away and heading toward the bathroom.

Without the well-muscled pilot wrapped around you, cooking went much faster. Before long the stroganoff was finishing on the stove and you poked your head into the living room to find Bradley watching a baseball game on the TV, his feet resting on the coffee table. 

“Hungry?” you asked, running your fingers through his curls as you stood behind the couch. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

He practically purred as your nails massaged his scalp, tilting his head back to look up at you. “Starved. I’ll come set the table,” he offered, turning off the TV and following you back into the kitchen to get plates and silverware. 

Once dinner was ready, you brought the dish to the table and sat beside Bradley, letting him serve up the food. You smiled as he took the first bite, watching his face as he reacted to the familiar taste. “Wait, is this…?”

“Your mom’s stroganoff recipe, yeah,” you confirmed, taking a bite of your own. “Figured you hadn’t eaten it in a while.”

“Not since she taught you the recipe. God, it tastes just how I remember,” he said, savoring another bite. “You are amazing, Dimples. I hope you know that.”

You felt your cheeks heat up with the praise and you bit your lip shyly, watching the emotions play on his face as he ate his mother’s favorite dish. When she found out she was sick she started teaching you her recipes, wanting to pass them on since Bradley had never shown interest in cooking. After dinner, Bradley insisted on handling the dishes as his way of thanking you for the delicious meal. You were content to sit on the counter beside the sink as he washed and dried the dishes, appreciating the domestic scene before you.

“Today was perfect,” Bradley stated, drying his hands on a towel as he came to stand in front of you. He rested his hands on your knees and kissed you gently. “But I guess it’s time to talk, huh?”

You sighed, nodding in agreement. Giving him a gentle push away, you hopped off the counter and took his hand, leading him into the living room. “We need to decide what we wanna do when you graduate. I mean, you’ll be in Virginia, and I’ll be here. It’s not exactly a short drive.”

He sat on the couch and pulled you onto his lap, running his fingers up and down your spine slowly. “The distance won’t be easy, but we’ll figure something out.”

“I don’t want to hold you back, B. You’ve got a career, a life in Virginia. I can’t ask you to give that up,” you explained, leaning into his comforting touch. 

Kissing your shoulder, he locked eyes with you. “And I wouldn’t ask you to uproot your life here. But I know we can do this. I know I can make you happy, and you make me… you make me into someone I couldn’t even imagine, Dimples.” 

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your fingers tracing absent-minded patterns on his arm as you held his gaze. “I never thought I’d get a ‘forever’, and then you showed up again. I wasn’t even looking for something like this.”

“Well… I’m glad I showed up,” he murmured, his free hand giving your leg a gentle squeeze of reassurance. “And I’m scared too. We were young before, and the closer we got, I was terrified I would lose you one day like I lost my mom. So I ran, and I didn’t take you with me. If I could go back, I would change that.”

His show of vulnerability hit you square in the chest, making your heart ache for him. You cupped his cheek with your soft palm, hoping to convey that you understood.

Bradley cleared his throat, leaning slightly into your touch before continuing. “I’ve loved you since we were kids. Ever since I met you, before I even knew what love meant. And now that I have you back… I’m never letting you go, no matter the distance.” He paused for a minute, gauging your reaction. “You’re the one, Dimples. You’ve always been the one.”

“Bradley…” you breathed, a tear escaping down your cheek. Hearing him express his love for you after so many years apart both took you by surprise and made your heart nearly beat out of your chest at the same time. “I don’t want to lose you either. Promise we’ll figure something out?”

He kissed you tenderly and wrapped you in his arms fully. “Promise. Forever, I promise.”

Chapter Nine

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