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zyafics · 1 month
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play fake | rafe cameron (18+)
series play fake (part one) — ( masterlist )
pairing rafe cameron x female reader
summary when rafe cameron needs to secure a gf in order for his father to see him as a stable man, he enlists the help of a bartender who wants nothing to do with him.
content 18+, eventual smut, angst, fake-dating, jealousy, people-pleasing and independent! female reader, ward cameron pinning rafe and sarah against each other, rafe being an asshole
zya's notes i hope u guys enjoy! i'm just writing this as i'm trying to figure out the brother's rival series and what direction i'm going <3
𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃 ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚ ⋆.˚
Who knew Rafe Cameron is a blabbering drunk?
Working as a bartender on the docks, near Heyward's Seafood, you have your fair share of stories about the people who come in. Most of them are locals from The Cut, with the occasional tourists who wander the streets, settling for a clean place to eat.
But it's very rare to have a Kook.
It's been a visit for the past couple of weeks. You don't understand what caused him to come here. There's plenty of bars near Figure Eight—some of which you are sure caters specifically to the Camerons—but you don't question it. Lately, business has been slow, a couple of locals in and out, and with the majority of your income relying on tips, you take it.
Locals don't tip.
Rafe does, however. When he settled down and ordered the largest and most expensive liquor you had on hand, he slipped a fifty into your hands and asked for the bottle as a whole. You don't know if he doesn't have prior tipping etiquette—or because he tips extra for you to keep quiet about his presence—but you gladly take it. Sitting at the end of the counter, his hand cradles a half-empty glass he sips from.
Despite having the whole bottle set in front of him, he still makes you serve him.
Why?
Because he's an asshole.
"You know what he wants to do?" Rafe slurs from across the counter, his eyes flickering to find your presence behind the bar. "He wants to give the company to Sarah."
You hum in response, drying the washed glasses in your hands with a towel as you listen to his nondescript rambles. You knew most of the people he's referring to Sarah Cameron, Ward, and the occasional Pogue you don't know the name of. But, that's how Rafe sees the world: his family, the Kooks, and then everyone else.
"She's nineteen and going around OBX with her fucking Pogue boyfriend and he sees her as stable?" Rafe scoffs, shaking his head as he brings the edge of the glass to his lips and takes a long sip. "Fucking bitch."
Listening to drunk customers vent about their home lives is part of the job description. While it’s dark outside and Rafe is the only customer left, you are technically free to kick him out and make him go about his day elsewhere.
But, there's a rule in your family regarding business: don't go home until the last customer leaves. There's no such thing as kicking someone out at closing time; you were there to wait, serve, and hope they spend a couple more bucks on some more booze. It's a cheapshot of handling enterprise, but that's the way you need to do business and survive as a Pogue.
Rafe taps his empty cup in his hand, eyes pinned on you. "Refill," he mumbles, to which you resist the urge to roll your eyes, and walk over to do exactly as he asks. Lifting the bottle set in front of him to pour him another shot, he watches you as you watch.
"You think it's stupid, right?" He asks, his gaze lifting to study your face. "He thinks Sarah is more equipped to handle Cameron Development because of that Pogue. Because he ties her down. Is that some bullshit?"
His gaze is intense and you don't know whether to answer or not. While you don't know much of the story, of the background behind his persistent rambles, you pieced together enough that it's about Ward deciding to give Sarah the family company because of her stability as a person. Because she's reliable.
You shrug, "I don't know." Because you don't. You don't want to get involved in whatever problems Rafe is dealing with. You don't want to offer unsolicited opinions because who knows if it'll come back to bite you in the ass.
He scoffs, then releases a bitter laugh. "Of course you don't," he leans back against his seat, almost swaying against the backless stool, before shaking his head, disciplining himself. "You're a Pogue. I must be losing it if I'm talking to you."
You roll your eyes, turning away from the Kook and settling on the rest of your tasks. You're used to Kooks putting you down like that, seeing you as nothing more than the bottom of the chain because you don't have some fancy degree from UNC or because you aren't floating on a yacht somewhere.
Just as you're returning bottles back on the shelf, you hear Rafe mumbles to himself. "Does he want me to be tied down or something?"
You let out an abrupt laugh, before quickly stiffening the sound. However, it was too late. When you look back over, you see his blue eyes set on you, a hard expression on his face. "Sorry," you mumble, wishing you had better control over your tongue. "I thought I heard something funny."
You wished you could blame it on the TV, but unfortunately, you had turned that off a while ago.
"You laughing at me, sweetheart?"
"No," you clear your throat, but the look on Rafe's face makes it seem like he's in no mood to hear lies right now. You rectify the answer. "Yes."
"What's so funny?"
"The idea of you getting tied down," you answer slowly. You carefully study his expression to see if anything you say could trigger a bad reaction. "It just seems amusing to me."
Because it is. Rafe is known around Outer Banks as the reckless prince, the one who hosts parties, gets shit-faced drunk, and hooks up with every woman within his proximity. The idea of him losing all of that—the parties, the drinking, the women—was not something you could picture in your head.
"What about it?" He challenges, an edge to his tone. "You think I can't fucking do it?"
From your experience as a bartender, you know he's coming close to unraveling. What you say next could cause him to erupt or calm down, and while you would love to sell him some lies, to get him to back down and leave, something in you doesn't let it pass. All night, he's been nothing short of an asshole to you. To act like he's above you because you are nothing but a Pogue meant to serve him. Why would you pass up an opportunity to deliver some harsh reality?
"Look at yourself," you gesture to him, "you're here, drinking at my bar after an argument with your father. He's trying to tell you that you aren't dependable enough to rely on and the first thing you do is turn to your vices. What do you think?"
Even if you intended it to be harsh, you said it nicely.
He stares at you, hard. You don't like it. You heard the rumors of what happens when he gets pissed—where he throws chairs and smashed bottles. You don't want to be a recipient of that.
"Never mind," you shake your head, returning back to your task. "Just forget it. I'm misreading the situation."
"No," he says with a shake of his head. "You said it. Might as well own it with your chest. Dancing around it wouldn't make you anymore likable."
You clench your jaw. On top of being a blabbering drunk, Rafe is cruel.
Not answering him, you walk over to where he sits and take the glass from his hand, right as he's about to take another sip.
"What the fuck?"
"I think it's time for you to leave."
He scoffs, not moving from his position. "Just because I said I didn't like you?"
"No, because you're acting like an asshole and frankly, I don't want to put up with it anymore," you say, pouring the rest of the content down the sink. "You can take the bottle with you. But other than that, you need to leave."
Rafe stares at you for a few seconds, contemplating what to do, but he doesn't have any grounds here. He may be a Kook, but that means shit when he's in the south side of Outer Banks. When his opponent is a bartender. Instead of responding to you, he slides off the stool and grabs the booze by the handle.
Just as he's about to set out of the door, you shout behind him with a mock farewell, "'pleasure doing business with you!"
That day, you thought would be the last of your interactions with Rafe. After all, most people don't want to continue doing business with someone who calls them out on their bullshit and kicks them out of their shops.
But, a couple of days later, Rafe comes through the door of your family-owned pub.
You paid little attention to him. You were trying to log the tips into the cash register, not catering to some entitled prick who has no means being here. Plus, there's another bartender on hand who's more than willing to help Rafe with anything he needs.
You didn't care.
Your coworker can get his tips.
As you're filing in the last of the receipts, Miranda comes over to tap you on the shoulders.
"Rafe wants to talk to you."
You stare at her for a few seconds, as if she was speaking another language. You thought she did. Why in the world would he want to talk to you? You were unpleasant to him. You were nothing of the customer service attitude your parents drilled into you as a child. You thought it was clear grounds for him to look the other direction.
"I'm busy," you say to Miranda, who shifts uncomfortably in her stance, not leaving.
"He said he's willing to wait."
That means he was expecting you to say no.
You scoff. "Tell him I'm not going to be free until closing time."
"But..." Miranda starts again, and you are starting to lose your patience with her. "We don't have a closing time."
You smile at that. "Exactly."
Despite the harsh undertone, Miranda still relays the message back to Rafe. You watch as she does, his eyes briefly pans over to you as you offer him a forced smile with a wave of your fingers and his jaw visibly tense. You thought that would be the end of the conversation but, to be proven wrong again, he slides into the bar stool he previously occupied the other night and orders a drink.
Then another.
You did your best to avoid the area he occupied, but it was proven to be difficult as he spent his time right in front of you. You got busy, running around and assisting locals and tourists who came in to get a taste of the infamous and historical Sailor of Outer Banks. While you're running around, placing orders, making drinks, and trying to navigate the cramped space behind the bar—Rafe remains.
He remained until he was the very last customer.
You sigh as you glance at the clock. Miranda has since left and you're left carrying the shop ever since. All you want to do is go home and relax, but that will be proven impossible until Rafe leaves the establishment.
With a strong reluctance, you step forward to where Rafe sat, his eyes on the TV screen hung on the wall, while his hands occupied another glass.
"Fine," you sigh, causing Rafe to tear away from the screen. The corner of his lips lift into a self-satisfying smirk. "I'm here."
"You finally ready to talk to me?"
"You ready to stop being such a prick?" You quip back, just to see his expression broadens at your snark. You can't lie and say the movement didn't make him more attractive. "What do you want?"
For a moment, you thought he might be here to apologize for asking like an ass the other night.
But, you were too hopeful.
"I came up with a solution," he begins, his words a subtle slur that contrasts the intoxication of the other night.
"For what?" You entertain the conversation, crossing your arms over your chest.
"My dad." He answers. "He wants me to be stable."
"I remember."
"And from when he was talking about Sarah, one of the reasons he thinks he can rely on her is because she's with that Pogue." He explains, "that it somehow makes her dependable. I don't fucking know, the logic is flawed."
"And old-fashioned, but continue."
His blue eyes dart to your face, before he utters the next words. "That means I need a girlfriend."
You nod, glad to see that he came to his conclusion. You thought this was another one of his ramblings, a need to vent to someone he doesn't think matters in the long-run, just to get it off his chest. Now that it is, you're about to step back and turn around to start your night tasks before he holds out a hand.
"Wait," he commands, causing you to stop on your tracks. You raise a brow at him. "I want you to be my girlfriend."
You laugh. It truly is a bad habit of yours but the idea came out as total lunacy and shock. You thought he would join. But, when you look back to his face and have the striking realization that he is serious, you start to sober up. "You're serious."
"Yeah," he says, clenching his jaw, like the moment of wonderful ideas was truly something he was proud of and you struck it down like lightning.
"I'm sorry but," you shake your head, not having the ability to wrap your head around the suggestion. "You barely know me. Isn't there a line of other people who would love to become the next Mrs. Cameron?"
You know that's true. You also know if he had told Miranda this, she would've jumped to the idea before he concluded his brilliant plan. So, you can't, for the life of you, figure out why he's choosing you out of everyone else.
"Yes, but I don't want them." He answers with a shake of his head, leaning closer to the counter. You don't know why but something about that makes your chest warm. "I don't want a real girlfriend. I just need you to pretend to be."
Just like that, the feeling in your stomach dies.
"Pretend?" You repeat.
"Yes," he nods. "It's just like you said. I still have my vices. I don't want to give them up. I just want my dad to think I did."
"I still don't understand how this has anything to do with me," you furrow your brows together.
He sighs, out of frustration or impatience, you don't know. But, he goes to explain, "my dad once told me that John B was a reliable person. That he was a Pogue who was hard-working and determined. That's why he likes him for Sarah—because he hopes it would rub off on her too."
You nod slowly, connecting the dots as he continues. "You're a Pogue," he says with a huff, the title left his tongue with an ounce of disgust you were ready to throw him out of the bar again. "He likes to go on his good samaritan bullshit and employs people from The Cut for certain events. You were one of them."
It takes a second to remember what he was talking about. He's right. A couple of years ago, when you were eighteen, you got a catering job from the Camerons for some big business event. It was the most you made in your lifetime, from all the tips and drunk Kooks who wanted to give back to the poor.
But, he never employed you again.
"Do you see where I'm going now?"
You do, but you hate the attitude he's giving you. Like you were a Pogue who couldn't string together simple facts. Like you should've known what he's talking about.
"I do, but why the fuck you acting like I would've known the whole thing with John B?" You snap, and this surprises him for a moment. Taking a breath to cool the anger in your chest, you calm. "This doesn't explain why it has to be me."
His next statement comes off more nice. "My dad wants someone like that. I doubt he would approve of anyone else, and plus, I don't have to worry about you wanting something more. You clearly despise me."
That isn't true, but you do understand where he's coming from.
"So, let me get this straight." You start. "I'm basically an arm candy for you to parade around in front of your father while the rest of the time, you are free to drink and fuck whoever you want."
"I'm glad that Pogue brain of yours is catching up."
You glare at him, but say nothing else. Picking up the dirty rag off the counter, where you were planning on using to clean, you turn back to Rafe, "as much as I would love to play house with you, I don't have time. Unlike you, I have bills to pay and a job to do."
You turn your back to him but he stops you.
"I'll pay you."
You scoff. "It's not that," you say, because truly, it isn't. A few short-term payments for a couple of missed shifts isn't going to help you in the long-run. You're trying to revive Sailor, to make it a place where it can stand on its own. What is a couple of bucks going to do for that? "I'm sorry, but I don't have the time for it. You're going to have to find someone else."
"I don't want someone else."
He looks at you desperate, as if you would give in, and for a moment, you might. Perhaps it's because you're so used to helping others, or because you were raised to cater to people—to people like him—that your stomach cower at the thought of saying no. But, you have to stand firm on this. You don't have time to go out and party, much less spend your free-time parading around in his arms as some sort of trophy.
You were serious.
"I'm sorry, I truly am."
Your voice is filled with sympathy, and it softens him for a moment. But, that quickly passes as Rafe Cameron has to recoil with the idea that he didn't get what he wanted. Probably for the first time in his life.
With an annoyed huff, he slams the cash for the drinks he's been nursing and leaves.
You thought it would be the end of it.
Not knowing, by the end of this week, you will be known as Rafe's girlfriend.
— read part two —
i know you liked the post to be added to the "brother's rival" taglist, but i also didn't know if u wanted to be added to all my fics, so if u want to get off of this one, pls tell me! taglist: @k00k-princess / @ditzyzombiesblog / @itshellie / @realcolewrld / @grace-sully / @loveyouok / @tayrcse / @mysteris-things / @zzhhvgbhuuh / @ella131989 / @whore4fictionalman / @starrkissezz / @sanriobuny / @user123453226780536 / @onlinemold / @alyssax25 / @chopshopcheesecake / @bobo-bush
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kombuuuu · 10 months
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hii i really enjoyed ur miles 42 fic, was wondering if u could write something about reader and miles meeting for the first time? who was interested first🤭?
For the Soul (and the Heart)
Miles!42 x Fem!Reader
“I’ll be here. So pretty fun, i’d say”. “Guess you’re right, Chiquita.”
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AHHH meet cute x simpy miles we LOVE
Miles getting comfy w reader and reader getting progressively more combative the more time they spend together bc they luvvvvvvv each other? perfection
please don’t read if you get uncomfy with suggestive content, nothing too bad but still suggestive!
The morning was still. An odd occurrence for a Saturday. The winter chill had settled the night prior and seeped into ever cracked windowsill.
Streets coating in a thin layer of snow and trees dusted with the same. And acknowledging this freezing weather, obviously you decided to go for a walk. Snow crunched under your feet as you followed street signs, the only thing telling you where you were going was which street looked prettier.
Eventually you stopped, hugging your scarf closer to your nose and looking for a stall or shop that caught your eye.
Eventually it did, a quaint cafe stationed between two clothing stores, relatively small and pretty empty. The outside was decorated with white Lilly-of-the-Valley flowers, flower beds filled with the pretty things. Contrasting to the deep Mahogany of the wooden shop. Which looking into the wide window, seemed relatively the same. Deep furniture with white accents and a soft yellow light dancing along shiny hardwood floors.
Swirling cursive words cut into the wooden headboard swinging from a chain outside the door. “Morales Coffee.”
There looked to be seven or eight people in there currently, for how inconspicuous it tried to look, the amount of patrons at such an odd time (10:42 AM, not morning but not afternoon either.), You’d assume that coffee has to be amazing.
The door bell chimed sweetly at your entry, Barista turning to greet you.
The sweet woman gleamed over at you for a moment, turning back to her current customer while he pulled out his wallet. You lined up, looking at the pastries lining the glass displays. The ones catching your eye a Raspberry Danish and a cute baby blue Lunch-Box cake.
The man had moved away, leaving it your turn to order. The woman smiled at you and for once, approaching someone in costumer service didn’t feel as scary as it should’ve.
“Hi, What can I get for you today?” The curly haired woman had a twang of an accent curving her words. And a motherly vibe about her.
“Hey,” You smiled back at her “,Could I get a regular Mocha—.” You paused to let her punch it in. “.—A raspberry Danish and your blue cake.”
You pointed vaguely towards where the blue cake would be to her side of the display. “Yes, of course! That’ll be $18.40, thank you.”
Whilst you pulled out your purse to pay and she began to retrieve the items. She spoke up again. “Someone’s birthday?”
You laughed, not expecting her to speak so suddenly.
“Oh, no!” A chuckle left your lungs “Just want some cake recently. Saw your shop and its cakes. Thought may as well get it while i’m here.”
She laughed along with you, snorting a little as she boxed the small cake in the cardboard lunchbox. “Seems reasonable.”
“Thank you.”
She grabbed your danish and placed it on the counter, putting the cake in a bag and handing it to you.
“Thank you, again.”
“No worries, your mocha will be out shortly!” The bouncy lady turned around, going close to the back of the counter and opened a door you hadn’t realised was there, talking into it.
“Bebé, hay una chica linda ahí afuera que quiere un Mocha. Ve a hacerlo para ella. Y no la riegues.”
"Baby, there's a cute girl out there who wants a Mocha. Go do it for her. And don't mess it up."
Miles glanced up in confusion.
“¿Pero porqué me dices a mi?”
“Why me?”
“Pues es linda, y parece de tu edad.”
“She’s pretty, and around your age.”
“Ma, porfavor.”
“Ma, please.”
“Go.”
“Fine, fine.” He raised his hands in defeat and Rio kissed his cheek on the way out.
You found a seat with a cute view of the street outside and waited patiently for your coffee, people watching to pass time.
There was always a fear of crime in your neighbourhood. The lack of supposed ‘good guys’ coupled with the city being run down by anyone who wanted to escape trouble. Once news broke out of the first robbery in Brooklyn, where no one was caught. It was immediately put on the radar for any criminal looking to live somewhere safe.
The Prowler had been changing that. Little by little the Panther-esc.. Anti-Villain was scraping through the streets of Brooklyn and letting his blood stained claws drag over those in his way.
People feared him, the violence he brought with him.
You thought he was the closest thing to a hero you were getting, so who’s got room to complain?
If he’s not going to do the dirty work, who will?
The chatter of other people in the cafe had gotten slightly louder, four more people walking in while you sat.
“Miles, la chica linda de ahí.”
“Miles, That sweet girl over there.”
“Sí mamá, ya sé.”
“Yeah mama, I know.”
The smooth baritones accent of a boy around your age caught your attention. The way his letters curled giving you a rush of something down your spine. You looked up when you heard feet approaching, seeing probably the most ridiculously handsome man you have ever met bring you your coffee.
The way his jawline sharpened at a point, braids lying on his shoulders just below it. His lips that seemed awfully soft for someone who probably doesn’t even know what chapstick is. Lashes fluttering prettily over his high genes cheekbones, accenting his golden eyes. Jesus christ he’s pretty. His lips curled into a smirk at your face, your doe’d eyes gleaming up at him. He had some sharp canines.
“‘S one’s yours, Miss.” He placed the steaming mug on your table and you smiled. “Thank you!”
“No worries, Hermosa.” He looked at you a moment longer before the sweet lady called him back to make another order.
“Coming, Momma.” He called back to her, turning back to you for a second time and adding.
“I’m Miles, by the way.”
“Miles.. that’s a cute name.”
His lips upturned again at the compliment.
You gave him your name, which he hummed at, repeating it and rolling it around his tongue. His accent was gorgeous.
“Hope to see you ‘round, [Name].”
You choked out a pathetic affirmation, “Mhmma.— Yeah, yep.”
He laughed lightly and dragged his fingers along the table as he left.
Like claws.
Two days later you were back. It was some of the best coffee you’d ever had. And the desserts were the same, most of the cake still sitting boxed in the fridge.
Also there was an added bonus, being the coffee house owner, and her son.
The boy was interesting enough to keep your attention, sweet to you but held a sort of curiosity about him. Like he was hiding something but felt no shame in doing it, that it was righteously excused.
And to be real, you were dying to hear his voice again. Two days and all that had been playing in your head was the way he’d said your name, let the word travel down to his lungs and breathed life into it. A longing into it.
Miles was about the same, probably worse.
You saying his name was cute was probably his new lifeline. The way you had said it so innocently, sweetly to the likes of him. A twisted, wretched man. You had him swooning faster than he deemed safe, his body was going into overdrive. He had watched you while in their cafe, having never met someone so.. untainted by the world. Someone so sweet who carried nothing but a childlike innocence in their curios nature. Nothing done out of bad faith or in vain. You were nothing like him, he adored that.
So when you came wandering back into his Mommas cafe, he hoped to every universe it would be something you didn’t stop doing.
“Ah! Miss, You’re back!” His Ma greeted her, watching as the girl told Rio her name, and his Mom in return.
You guys chatted idly for a moment, your expressions clear as day. He could read you like a grown man could read a picture book, so easy it would be insulting to present him with it, if the content wasn’t you. The brightness and easy nature of you was something refreshing, he would say his Momma was easy-going, but times had been hard lately and his family needed a cheering up. You seemed like the perfect candidate.
Sweet, bubbly and looking at him right now- Oh. He waved at you, shivering at the eye contact and watching as you smiled at him and waved back, hands shaking. He likes how nervous he makes you.
You sniffled a little from the cold, dripping your hand as his Mom room your attention again. She handed you a cinnamon scroll and you paid quickly, dropping twenty bucks in the tip jar and quickly finding your way back to your seat.
“Miles! Un Mocha regular porfavor.”“Miles, regular Mocha please.”
He nodded to his mom, like he hadn’t remembered from last time. Like he hasn’t watched as you enjoyed something he made you.
“Bienvenida de nuevo, Chiquita.”“Welcome back, Chiquita.”
Sitting in the same spot as last time, staring at the idling passer-by’s, the light of a Winter morning danced off the snowy ground and highlighted your face, leaving a soft glow in your eyes.
You turned to him, paying him your whole mind.
“Thank you, Miles.” He placed your coffee in front of you, slightly leaning over you. He raised his eyebrows and hummed. You inhaled quickly, breath caught in your throat. Now realising the proximity between the two of you. Not only that, but there was a sweet smell that followed him around, coffee and cinnamon. How fitting.
His voice had gone deeper, smoother.
“I’m glad to see you back here—,” He leaned back again, hand dragging the same way it had two days prior. Your slow blink and parted lips made a deep rooted part of him begin to blossom once more.
He wanted to protect you the way he knew no one else could, wanted to lay his Soul down for you. Let you trace the veins imbedded in his skin with your teeth and take as much from him as you could. Run him dry, let him owe you his life so he can die protecting yours.
The speed his infatuation was growing probably wasn’t healthy.
“Really?” Your sweet, breathless inquiry silenced that though.
“Of course, Mami.”
“I—,” You paused, picking at you fingernails for a moment “,—I like it here, a lot.”
You leaned a little forward in your seat. Pressing your forearms against the wooden tabletop and leaning on them. He watched your back drop into a small arch, and for his own health, decided to ignore it. “‘S very cozy.” You glanced towards the window again. Watching another lad and her dog pass. He watched you.
“Mm, it is.”
“And you’re here.”
He sucked in a breath, fingers twitching.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Your gaze flickered to him once more and he held it.
He let his hand drift to your shoulder, rubbing it slowly while he peeled himself away from the table.
“I gotta go, Mami, but enjoy your time.”
“You too, Miles.”
“I’ll be working,” He smiled at you, a small thing.
“I’ll be here. So pretty fun, I’d say.”
He hummed.
“Guess you’re right, Chiquita.”
It had been around four Months since Miles had met you. And he was in over his damn head, not that he wasn’t at your first meeting. But progressively, over time, he’d fallen deeper and deeper for you.
Everything you did had him in a chokehold. The way you were so sweet with his Mom, or how even uncle Aaron liked you when he’d stopped by the cafe.
How you offered to help around with no pay, generosity basically leaking from your heart. When you would come over just to see him because you “missed his voice”.
Or would sit in his room and wait for him. If he ever came home late, injured from things you had no business knowing, you wouldn’t ask a thing. You stayed quiet, and patched him up. Let him rest his head on your collarbone while you softly rubbed his shoulders. Trying to lighten the weight of the world off of them.
Every little thing.
He was done pretending like it didn’t affect him. He could barely go a single day without you on his mind constantly, as if.
He knew you felt the same.
Still just as readable as your first meeting. He knew the frequent outings between the two of you were more than just friendly meet-ups to you. To him.
And when your gazes would catch one another, he’d try and tell you. Express without so much as a word how you were the only person he could do this with. The only one he felt comfortable to walk down the street with, and let you chat his ear off about any new movies you’d seen, books you’d have read.
He would let you sleep in his bed, bring little things into his room and give the bland walls life.
You had made a home in him. Cracked chips in his walls on by one until you’d found a single loose stone and happily let everything he’d built up fall just for you.
Miles had texted you around mid-day that he’d wanted to see you, in which you’d giggled at your phone dreamily.
Laying on your bed with your stomach down, kicking your legs like a girl gone stupid.
It hadn’t even been much to fret over, just a simple:
Can you come over later?
He had phrased it rather questioningly, but for no good reason. He’d known full well the moment he even insinuated you being with him, you’d jump at the chance.
And you did, swiftly replying;
okayyyy !!
I’ll pick you up at 7.
six…?
7, [Name].
>:(
Don’t be childish.
i’m nvr childish, see u at 6 C:
You got up, threw your phone somewhere on the bed and checked your, admittedly already-packed, overnight bag. Making sure nothing was missing before putting it at your door.
Your phone pinged again.
See you at six.
You smiled.
You spent the rest of that afternoon anxiously waiting for him to pick you up.
He showed up at your door five minutes late, greeting you at the door with a soft apology about the tardiness.
“Sorry, Mami. Took a wrong turn.”
“Don’t apologise, Miles.”
You smiled at him, stars in your eyes. He looked away for a second, a bit guilty for lying to you, but he feels it’s worth it.
“Grab your bag, ma. Let’s go.”
You hummed an affirmation, rushing to your room to grab the pink duffel bag.
You grabbed your phone off your night stand and did a double check for everything.
You walked out again, closing the door behind you. Miles was leant up against your doorframe. Forearm pressed on the wood and his torso stretched. A small sliver of his skin had peeked from under the fabric, you thanked the warming weather. Quickly averting your gaze, you noticed him watching your stare in intent, a curious smile playing at the corner of his lips.
“You good, Chiquita?”
“Uhuh—, yep. Fine.”
“Mmhm.”
You huffed out, pouting and pressing your palm to his chest, his very toned chest, and pushed back lightly.
“Get outta my way, lame-o, I gotta lock the door.”
He resisted for a moment longer, gazing down at you in humour. He trailed his hand up your arm slyly and pried your hand off his chest by sliding his thumb up from under your wrist onto your palm. Slowly pulling you off him.
“Maybe ask politely.”
You gave him an unimpressed stare and flipped him off.
“Miles.”
“[Name].”
“Oh my god.”
“It’s just a ‘please’.”
“..-Please, get the fuck outta my way.”
“Of course, Hermosa.” He snorted as he did.
You turned around, Miles still close to you in the cramped hallway, and locked your door.
You turned around, noticing his eyes glance up from where they were before and shot him a questioning look. He turned around and led you through you hallway, dismissing the look.
He opened the steel door to the cafe. The scenery of a rooftop garden with the same Lilly-of-the-Valley flowers up here as there were out front of the store.
Shrubbery lined the rooftop edge and the string lights hung from the veranda created an atmosphere that seemed almost cinematic.
“Jesus, Miles. This is beautiful.”
“Mm, thought you’d like it.”
“I do, so much.”
You stated in awe at the mural painted on a buildings wall behind the door. A man who stroke a resemblance to Miles painted surrounded by colours of any.
The moonlight basked against the neon colours, accenting the man’s features.
“My dad.”
Your gaze snapped up to him beside you, brows furrowing in a frown.
“I’m sorry.”
“‘S cool. Nothin’ you coulda known, Ma.”
He sighed at the image of his father, wishing him well rest.
Turning to you, he wasn’t surprised to see the greif in your eyes. He was, though, surprised at the lack of pity.
He was so used to having his far family whisper behind his back at how his soul had died with his fathers. How the light in his eyes had gone missing the day his hand had been forced, unable to get to his dad in time.
There was no escaping his death.
So to feel the understanding coming from you—. The confidence in your sorry but knowledge that pity would do no one any good, it was refreshing. Everything about you was.
He turned away from your watchful eyes, the intensity being unusual for him.
“Come sit, vida mía.”
You followed him dutifully, loyally. Like you had since the last Winter. Like you would continue for the next to come.
A set of pillows had been placed in the middle of the veranda. White wood covered in lively vines and the aforementioned string lights.
There was a layout of his pastries (which you had learned he was the baker of) laid out on a cotton blanket.
You sat on one of the pillows, legs crossed. Miles following short after.
“Oooh,” You begun to tease him “,This a romantic dinner date?” The tone of your voice was in jest, but when he had failed to answer— Your heart rate sped up and your face went hot to the touch.
“Miles? Y’know I— I was just jokin’—“ “If you want it to be.”
You stood stupidly for a moment, not quite reeling in his words like any other person would.
“Wh—.”
It was his turn for unsurity now, eyes dancing nervously between you and the skyline.
“No pressure, though. Just think it’d be nice.”
“It would.”
He refocused on you again, finding you already watching him owlishly. “Yeah?”
“Mm, we could—,”
He anxiously started picking at the blanket. Who knew someone usually so calm could be this nervous asking out the most harmless girl he knew.
“Try. We could try that, together.” You mumbled a bit, seemingly playing it off. “If you want, or something..”
“I do.” He gained some leg to stand on, finding it easier and easier as you spoke, your nerves somehow calming his own.
“I’ve wanted that for a while.”
“Oh good, cause—“ You placed your hand in your lap, cracking your knuckles. “—Me too, so. That’s good.”
He grinned at your awkwardness, knowing your lack of experience in the relationship aspect of life, this mutual agreement, instead of one asking the other out, probably hasn’t been an experience of yours yet. He liked he was the first.
“Don’t get all shy on me now.”
You puffed at him, punching his arm lightly.
“I’m never shy, that’s for dumb stupid lame people. And I am none of those.” “Oh, sure.”
“Wh— Sure?! Which one are you ‘sure’-ing? Dumb, stupid or lame?!”
“Uhuh.”
“Miles!”
“Keep saying my name like that, mami.”
“Oh my goodness!”
And when you both finally got into his bed, you’d slept tangled together like you had dozens of times before. But this time, Miles would grab your waist and pull you closer. Settle his face in your neck and trace his nose down the length of your shoulder, peppering a kiss on every inch of skin he could find, and you’d both finally felt sure.
Maybe people were right, maybe Miles’s soul had died with his father.
But meeting you, something new, something rejuvenating—.
It left him with a light he could search for, a new soul. A whisp of a being you’d taken from your own heart and placed in his. It left him breathless with life.
YIPEEE!!!!! another one 🗣️‼️
thank you to my translation helpers (bbgs) @kissmxcheek and @millyswife
(oh, wrong Miles! oops! 🤗⬇️)
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lilmashae · 4 months
Text
🤍 pretty boy — s.jy
smut
shy, nerdy jake who's never been too focused on a girl — until he met you. jake spent most of his day studying or working inside of the small campus cafe.
but, you walked in and everything around you suddenly froze. sure, pretty girls had come in to order before — but none like you.
"hi," you looked down, reading the name tag adoring his apron. "jake, is it?" he nodded and you smiled — your lips were glossy as you beamed up at him. "hi jake, can i order... one iced americano?"
"yeah, that's $3.59... and what's your name?"
"y/n, here you go." you spoke, handing him your change, the both of your hands brushing against one another. "oh, i'm sorry, i —"
"it's fine, jake." a soft giggle escaped your mouth as you took your receipt and your coffee. "thanks, see you around!" you waved on your way out.
he couldn't stop thinking about you after that — the beautifully charming girl who knew his name. his interest only grew more as you became a regular. though, his fondness of you exceeded past a normal 'customer-server' relationship.
"jake!" you walked up to the counter happily, "what's up?" he blinked through his glasses. "i passed — my exams, i passed!" full of joy, you hugged him over the counter, still laughing and smiling passionately. "i knew you would, so what can i get you?"
"something sweet..."
"how about a pastry? i know you like strawberry," jake began. "it's on me, since you did well on your exams."
"i couldn't, i'll pay." but, he just shook his head — "really, y/n, you deserve a treat." you'd be crazy to think jake isn't attractive. not only that but he's smart, respectful — and you may or may not have a thing for shy guys. "well," you nipped at our bottom lip. "how about this, i'll pay... and you can come over later to celebrate. then, you can really treat me." you stared at him with pleading eyes, unsure of what his reaction'd be. "ah... s-sure thing, y/n."
"great! i'll text you, bye jake." you left happy, big smile plastered on your face.
you thought he was cute in his uniform, but jake was even cuter in his low cut sweater, exposing his collarbones and neck. "come in." you welcomed him inside, warmly. however, the two of you could only make small talk for so long — before you were perched in his lap, hickeys and marks trailing down jake's skin.
"fuck..." he huffed from under his breath. "i thought... i thought i was supposed t-to be... shit! treating you?" smiling against his chest you lifted yourself up. "still want to, pretty boy?" and without a second thought, he was buried between your thighs.
"jake..." you squirmed under him as he lapped your cunt. "fuck, wait!" he was hungry — he's been waiting for this, to taste you on his tongue and have you come undone on his fingers. "so good, y/n... pussy's so good..." jake hummed into your warmth, sopping hole swallowing his slender fingers so well. "please, please jake, m'about to cum!" his pillow lips latched onto your clit, tongue still dancing between your fluttering, clenching hole and your needy clit.
"you taste so good, been waiting to taste this pussy for so long, baby." he wasn't so 'shy' in between your legs. jakes fingers hit that spongy spot — perfectly rubbing your gummy walls as you came on his face and fingers.
this is a work of fiction, guidelines and disclaimers! i'm writing this to make up for the shitty jake chapter 🙁
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kiwi-bitchez · 6 months
Text
Double Down, Triple Threat 
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Summary: insecure!Eddie x bartender!Reader
Eddie is constantly flirting with you after his Corroded Coffin sets at the Hideout, and you have the bad habit of flirting back. What happens when you overhear a conversation that wasn’t meant for you? Maybe you’ve had the wrong idea about the cocky metalhead who negs you for free drinks. Now you need to take it into your own hands to resolve some built up tension. 
Smut, as always, with a touch of angst but generally fluff/happy ending. 
Word count: 18k (eek! in retrospect I maybe should have split this into multiple parts but...fuck it, brevity has never been my strong suit LOL) Buckle up for a doozy.
Content warnings: smut, afab reader with she/her pronouns, use of y/n, alcohol consumption, smoking, the devil’s lettuce, mention of Eddie's scars and sustained injuries (slightly canon divergent obviously because our boy is ALIVE here, but the events of season 4 generally stand otherwise), also Eddie does some negative self talk where he refers to himself as mutilated but everything is happy in the end I promise, and scars are nothing to be insecure about he's just down in the dumps you feel me?, oral (fem receiving), fingering (fem receiving), unprotected PIV sex (plz use protection irl), pet names, reader and Eddie shower together
A/N: I know it’s been a hot minute since I’ve posted a fic on here, but I hope all y’all who are still riding the Eddie Munson thirst train enjoy this :) I’m trying to regain the motivation to write more, so hopefully more fics to come soon (no promises though lol) (maybe some Steve? Steddie x Reader? Let me know what y’all want to see.) I
"I'll have the usual," his hoarse voice and boisterous presence cut through what few other customers sat at your bar, forcing your attention his way.
"Yeah, and what would that be?" you try to give him your best deadpan voice, unsure yet if you were in the mood for his antics. 
"Come on, like I ever order anything other than a whiskey and coke," his curly dark hair stuck slightly to his damp forehead, not having bothered to wipe the sweat from his brow in between the stage and the bar. If you could even call it a stage. It was more of a sad corner with an extension cable and a few amps that his grunting bandmates were lugging back into their truck while he very helpfully came over and tried to flirt with the bartender. You were the only bartender. On Friday nights anyways. 
"That's because you're unoriginal," his drink was already half made as you flick your eyes up through your lashes at him, knowing he was watching you intently, not that he was particular about how his drink was made by any stretch. "You're actually going to pay for it this time," you slid the glass over to him, "I'm not joking."
"You wound me," he tries his best to give you puppy dog eyes, "but I'm pretty sure Randy mentioned something about drink tickets when we negotiated our new Friday slot."
"That's not a thing," you make up menial tasks behind the bar to keep your hands and eyes busy while he relentlessly chats with you, "never has been. Plus if I keep giving you free drinks you'll get the idea that I like you or something." 
Fuck, you told yourself you should stop flirting back with him. Your first excuse had been professionalism, which didn't make a lick of sense considering you were a bar back at this hole in the wall that paid local bands in drink tickets, apparently. Your second excuse had been that as fun as Eddie was to chat with, you hardly knew anything about him other than his loud band and his drink order. 
Unfortunately he liked to chat and sooner than later you knew more about him than you wanted to. Your newest excuse? If you kept flirting back with him he might get the idea that he could see you outside of this dingy bar, and you liked the comfort and safety of the three feet of wood separating you, it kept you from doing something you might regret. 
"Don't act like you didn't like our set," he threw the rest of his drink back, "I saw you watchin' from over here."
"Yeah, well you're kind of hard to ignore, you know, with the volume and all," your voice had a too-playful tone that you mentally noted to dial back on. 
If you were being honest, Corroded Coffin was one of the weekly acts that you didn't entirely mind. Most were groups of middle aged men trying to relive the glory days by booking a weeknight at the Hideout, instruments barely tuned and a setlist that was decades out of style. While Eddie's band certainly wasn't everyone's cup of tea, you found yourself tapping your foot along with their songs more often than not. At least they were original, you’d give them that. 
He held his glass up to signal a request for another. "Go help your friends carry all your shit," you swiped the cup from his hand, hating that you focused on how your fingers briefly touched his, "and then I'll make you another. And I'm charging you for both."
"Whatever you say, babe" he spun around three or four times on the bar stool before sauntering off and finally assisting with moving the amps and drum kit. You rolled your eyes, not that he was watching you anymore, but more to keep yourself from checking out how his shirt clung to his torso. His black t-shirt was always a size too small, revealing his tattoo covered arms that you never allowed yourself to stare long enough at to make out what any of them were. 
Eddie was nice. As much as you liked to push each other's buttons and joke around, he was a lot more respectful than most patrons that tried their hand at flirting with you. He never said anything gross or disrespectful, not something you could say about most men who've had more than a few beers. 
But you didn't want to risk pushing any boundaries with him, because you work here, and his band plays here weekly, religiously. You didn't want things to get weird, and as much as you learned how to avoid certain patrons, there was only so much space between the 'stage' and your station behind the bar. 
Despite this, you have his second drink made before he finishes putting his stuff away, and you haven't started a tab for either of them. A big smile stretches across his cheeks when he notices his already-made drink set by his stool as he walks over from the back door. You couldn't help but feel a tiny smile creep up on your face as well. 
"Really made me work for this one, huh?" he takes the first sip while still standing before setting back into his seat, "truly amazing service, best I've ever had, really." You glare at him while cleaning some cups absentmindedly with a rag. "Not sure if you can tip on a drink ticket though..."
"Fuck off," you giggle and throw the wet towel at him, "you can't charm your way into TWO free drinks you ass."
"Aww you think I'm charming?" the flirtations between you were always edged with sarcasm, which you both found a lot easier than admitting 'hey you need to stop looking at me like that or else I'm going to keep thinking about pinning you against this countertop.'
"No, I don't, which is why you're PAYING for both those drinks," a lie followed by another lie, and you both knew it. "Where'd your band go?"
"Why? 'm I boring you?" he didn't mind taking up all your attention when the other bar patrons were either too drunk to stand or too old to even notice that a metal band had performed for the past hour. "No one's ever accused Gareth of being more interesting than yours truly. Plus he doesn't drink anyways, so your venture capitalist instincts wont work on him." He raised his drink to punctuate his joke before taking another long swig. 
"Ha ha," you don't give him the satisfaction of a real laugh, "I just wanted to make sure you had a ride home in case you try and swindle me into making you a third drink."
"Oh no, I told them all to scram, that I had a hot date with you and my unsettled tab," he leaned over the bar, trying to eliminate as much space between himself and you, "plus I've got a friend coming by to pick me up in a bit. So if you wanted to make me that third drink in exchange for me keeping you company while you close up, I certainly don't have any reason to turn you down."
"Fine," you point at him with a stern finger, "but this one'll be more coke than whiskey."
"Deal," he pointed his finger back at you, moving carefully in so the tips of your pointers touched. This made you genuinely laugh, unable to keep up a wall for too long around him. 
He finished his second drink while you ordered last call, and settled up with crumpled cash and mumbled thank you’s from the few remaining drunks. After closing up the cash register you make him that more-coke-than-whiskey drink as promised, and get to wiping down every sticky surface. 
"What's your drink?" he asks.
"Hmm?" you glance over from your hunched over position, trying to get the wet rag across the underside of the bar where someone had clearly spilt what appeared to be an entire pint of light beer. 
"You know my drink order, I wanna know yours." you stand up straight and look at him. 
You consider pushing back and demanding why he wanted to know, but it was late and you only had so many quips left in you, "Gin and tonic with extra lime." You get back to soaking up the spilt mess.
"Woooooow," his drink was finished and he took it upon himself to grab the broom from behind the bar and start sweeping up the bottle caps and tracked in dirt, "and you had the nerve to call me unoriginal."
"I'm not some creative rock and roll guitar guy like you, I don't need to be original, I'm just a bartender," you let him keep sweeping and start checking off other tasks from your closing list.
"You aren't just a bartender, give yourself more credit than that babe," he held up the dustpan full of crap, silently asking where to put it and you hold open a mostly full garbage bag for him to dump it into before tying it off, "judging by your drink order I would also guess that you're, hmmmm, an 85 year old man."
"Oh my god," you slap him on the arm with another half dirty hand towel, "in that case, you're doing voluntary manual labor just to flirt with this 85 year old man, so maybe you need to reevaluate your priorities."
He takes a few steps forward, not quite caging you against the bar, but nearly there. "And how am I doing? Is it working?" He's the closest he's ever been to you, jokingly sliding the broom around your feet, pretending to sweep while maintaining searing eye contact.
As the which-one-of-us-is-going-to-learn-in-first question buzzes around you, an irritating light flickers through the big front window, indicating someone had pulled their car right up to the curb with their high beams on. Eddie scrunches his nose up, and your urge to kiss him somehow grows despite his annoyed expression. "That's my ride."
You give him a small nod, turning your head to try and squint to see who could possibly be picking him up at this hour, but not making out much through the foggy glass. "I suppose I can manage the rest without you," you grab the broom from him, fingers touching for the second time tonight, "see you next week, rockstar."
Eddie wants to do something smooth, a wink or a clever line, but instead nervously gives you a nod and is out the front door before he can give it a second thought. The minute the door closes behind him you let out all the air you had been holding in your chest, both frustrated and slightly relieved. Eddie on the other hand- was bursting with regret and frustration, immediately running his hands through his hair and pulling a cigarette out of his pocket. 
"Absolutely not," Steve craned his neck out of his car that always looked like it had just gotten a fresh wax and detail, "at least five feet away from the beemer if you're going to light that." 
Eddie rolled his eyes, considering putting the cigarette back into the carton and getting the fuck away from this bar, but ultimately gave in and pivoted on his heel storming back towards the brick exterior and slumping against it as he flicked his lighter and took an aggressively deep pull. 
"What's your damage?" Steve moved out of the expensive car, keeping a bit of distance from Eddie but close enough that the two could talk, "That bartender you like wasn't on or something?"
"She's inside closing up now, so keep your fuckin' voice down" he gave Steve a glare and then immediately an apologetic look for being so prickly, "I'm just bad at this shit, man."
"You can't be that bad at it, Gareth and Jeff said the two of you eye fuck across the room every Friday night," Steve shrugs, understanding Eddie's drawback but knowing his friend rarely gives himself the benefit of the doubt. 
"Yeah, well, that's not the hard part," Eddie rips his cigarette and presses his wild hair deeper into the brick behind him, exhaling upwards. 
You had taken note that Eddie's ride hadn't left yet, so you busied yourself for a minute before deciding who cares if you had to give him an awkward wave on your way across the parking lot, so you locked up and grabbed the trash to take to the dumpster out back before leaving for the night. 
You really didn't mean to eavesdrop, but as soon as the back door clicked you heard their muffled conversation from around the corner. Rather than give away your presence with the clanging of the trash you gently set it against the wall and moved forward silently, staying out of sight but well within earshot. 
"Flirting is the easy part, she's fuckin' easy to talk to, man" Eddie's voice carried, and you felt guilty but continued to listen, "I don't want to just fuck her though, I want to like, date...her."
"Oh," Steve's voice dropped knowingly, "well that's... good, I guess, that you like her like that."
"Well even if I didn't like her like that and was only looking to fuck her," he sighs out, and you carefully listen while furrowing your eyebrows, trying to make sense of their conversation, "she's gorgeous, and no girl that hot- scratch that no girl at all want's to fuck some mutilated freak."
"Don't call yourself a freak," Steve's voice seems apprehensive. 
"Yeah, sure, but you can't say I'm not mutilated." There was a beat of silence, and you didn't have time to think too much about his words before he went off again, voice laced with thick sarcasm, "Oh hey babe, so glad you were able to look past that I live in a trailer park and all my neighbors think I'm a satan worshiping murderer, but I hope you can be cool with my singular nipple and weird lumpy scar tissue, I know it's super hot, you're gonna have to get in line." His voice carried easily far past your hiding spot. 
"You're not giving her much credit dude," Steve was still apprehensive to respond, knowing how Eddie got when he started to spiral, "Maybe she's not that shallow."
"It's not that," Eddie's voice started to calm, "I'd just rather take my twenty minutes of flirting after our Friday gigs than risk it and have her look at me like she's sorry for me or something." 
With that he snubbed out his cigarette butt with the toe of his combat boots, let out a big sigh, and moved to get into the passenger side of Steve's car. You take a few slow, careful steps back towards the slumped garbage bag and wait until you hear the engine start and see the lights pull out onto the opposite side of the road. 
Fuck. Part of you felt incredibly guilty for listening to what was obviously meant to be a private conversation, especially a private conversation about you. But your gears were turning far too fast to get hung up on guilt. 
You always felt apprehensive about Eddie because you figured he was a flirt, a player, the kind of guy who talks to all bartenders like that, and you just happened to be the one he flirted with after his Corroded Coffin shows. You never wanted to get too invested in making him smile or waiting around for him to chat you up, because you know how most guys are, especially guys who carry themselves with that much confidence. And you were fucking wrong. 
Now fully realizing that the ball is in your court, you need to plan your first move. You decided, Eddie was worth taking the risk. 
It was truly a shot in the dark, but if your intuition ended up being a bust then no one would know about your wasted afternoon other than yourself. The following afternoon you drove aimlessly up and down the unpaved residential streets of the trailer park. There were two in town but you had a pretty good feeling that this was the one. 
You only started to feel stupid when you got some confused and slightly angry looks from people going about their business, hanging laundry or smoking on their porches, scrunching their noses and trying to make out the unfamiliar car driving in circles around their neighborhood. 
Aha! There it was. You knew that your gut could only fail you so many times when it came to Eddie. Exactly what you had been looking for, a big black and blue 1971 Chevrolet van strewn with dents, patches of rust, and, your telltale sign, a homemade Corroded Coffin sticker crookedly placed on the faded chrome of the bumper. 
Step one, complete. Step two was contingent on Eddie even being home. The presence of his van had you feeling hopeful. 
You attempt to rid yourself of lingering nerves with a deep breath and silent pep talk. You park adjacent to his van and hop out before your legs can convince you not to, and suddenly you've rung the doorbell and are standing with your hands clasped nervously in front of his door. 
"Just a minute," you hear him yell from inside, step two, complete, "What're you here for? Cuz I only got weed right now so if you're..." his hollering voice trails off from inside as he catches a glimpse of you through the screen. "Y/n? What the fuck are you doing here?" 
"Jeez, hello to you too," you try to lace your voice with the same flirty edge that you always took with Eddie, but you didn't have the comfortable barrier of the bar or the security of being the person serving him his drinks. 
"How the fuck do you know where I live?" His tone wasn't quite angry, but it was bordering on more pointed than just confused. 
"Sorry, I didn't mean to drop by totally unexpected," you suddenly felt vulnerable, regretting this whole stupid plan, "I can go." 
You start to scurry back to your car and hide your face forever, but he cuts you off with, "No, no, just, why are you here?" He softened his voice, and came down the stoop to hover over you on the last step. 
"Well," here goes nothing, "last night I felt like we sort of got interrupted." You pause, trying to gauge his reaction, "And I couldn't stop thinking about it, and I didn’t want to wait a whole week to see you again."
"Oh," his face and reaction didn't give you much of a clue as to what he was thinking. 
"And," you started filling the empty air with words, as you often did out of anxiety, "I know where you live because I've heard you sing 'fuck everyone in the trailer park, I'll play my music and curse your existance' probably a thousand times, it really wasn’t that hard to figure out where you live." 
He let out a chuckle, despite being deep in the throws of processing your earlier statement of feeling cut off. Of course he wanted to see you outside the confines of the musty bar, he just hadn't expected it to be like this, so sudden. "Well that's fair. I’ll give you double points for perception."
"I didn't mean to interrupt your Saturday," you began to reel again, "just wanted to tell you I'd like to hang out with you sometime, preferably not at The Hideout."
"Can sometime be now?" he hopped down from the last step and gave you an inquisitive smile, nose slightly scrunched and giving you butterflies. 
"Yeah, sometime can be now. You promise I'm not interrupting anything?" you felt a wave of relief, his energy had fully shifted from confusion to your comfortable flirty banter.
"Just a packed bong and have some laundry I probably wasn't going to do anyways," he suddenly realized he either had to invite you inside, which would be slightly embarrassing given the current state of his trailer, or suggest a secondary location, "you hungry? We can grab lunch or something?" 
He offered to drive, and you suggested sandwiches and beer to go for a backseat van picnic. He was relieved that you were down with doing something so casual, no stuffy cafes or overpriced food. If you were more than happy to suggest eating deli counter sandwiches in the back of his clunky van then maybe he had less to worry about than he thought. 
The passing moments between you had him realizing he truly didn't know much about you. Your job, how you had no problem snapping back at rude customers, and most recently your favorite drink. He wanted to know more, and quickly did as you had a 'regular' sandwich order and gave him directions to a side street that looked out onto a small lake, explaining that you'd eat lunch out here sometimes when the weather was nice. He parked the van in reverse, letting the back doors swing open, giving you the perfect bench looking out to the scenery to sit back and eat. 
"All my years living 'round here, I've never been to this spot," he noted through bites of sandwich wrapped in white paper.
"Yeah, most people know the spot across the lake with the rope swing and all that," you gesture across to where there was a popular jumping rock littered with empty beer cans, "too crowded for me though, it's more peaceful over here." 
"Sorry if I was a bit rude earlier," he started, but you quickly cut him off before he could finish his apology.
"No, no," you move your hand over to gently grab his mid gesture, "don't apologize, your reaction was incredibly reasonable."
"I just-' he started but you gave his hand a squeeze, "I really am happy you decided to come by, I didn't want you to think otherwise."
"I'm happy you chose lunch with me over a bong and laundry, that was some tough competition I had," he rolled his eyes at you.
"Don't make fun of me," he nudged your side, "I'm usually pretty wiped from Friday's show and trying to think of clever things to keep up with you, so my Saturday's are usually pretty lazy," your shoulders rubbed against each other, "being a washed up wannabe rockstar and flirting with a girl way out of my league can really do a number on me."
You share a soft giggle but reassure him that playing live music, even if it is only for you and a crowd of five drunks is still pretty cool. "Plus I like that you dress like this all the time, it's not just an act, this is just how you are," you gesture to his ripped jeans and ring clad fingers.
"What did you expect, babe? Surprise me at my trailer to find me in a polo and khakis?" the suggestion alone had the two of you laughing, brainstorming an alternate universe where Eddie was an accountant by day and only let his rocker side loose on Friday nights. 
"If you aren't secretly an accountant, what do you do when you're not playing music, if I may ask," you realize this was really one of the first personal questions you'd exchanged, keeping things punchy and surface level until this point.
"Ah, well," he scratches the back of his head, "although I wish the drink tickets we make at The Hideout were enough to cover rent, I work down at the body shop, you know the one down the street from the grocery store? My uncle knew some guys there and hooked me up with a job fixing cars after high school, and it's not too bad, I'm not half bad at it either, so that's where I'm at."
"You just really keep getting better and better, huh?" at first he wonders if your comment is sarcastic, but you continue "So what I'm hearing is you'll look at my rattling engine for free? I know nothing about cars and am always worried the people at the body shop are going to overcharge me."
"I only charge in sandwich dates and drink tickets, so you're in luck," he responds quickly without giving it much of a thought. 
You take a second, "What about dinner dates? Maybe movie dates too? Are those acceptable payments for your mechanic expertise?" 
"Not usually, but I'll make an exception for you," he responds after a few beats, realizing you wanted to see him again, and not just at the bar. 
You both are looking out at the lake, the buzzing energy around you making you nervous to look at each other. So you just tilt your head sideways to rest on his shoulder, "Phew, that's a relief, because I have a lot more of these planned."
"Oh yeah?" he shifts his body towards you, lifting your head from his shoulder and finally meeting his gaze, a stupid grin plastered across his face, he couldn't help it. "Which one of these dates do I finally get to kiss you?" You let out a breathy laugh, half amused by his corny line and half surprised he was being so forward. 
"Hmmm, I'm not sure," you pretend to think it over, stringing this out was killing both of you, but you couldn't help but push his buttons a bit more, "I'd say I'm kind of a third date kind of gal."
"Three? As in three from now or three including this one?" He seemed genuinely concerned, causing a genuine laugh to slip through the act you were putting on. 
You move your hand to his chest, faces closer than they had ever been. You had always been sucked into his big brown eyes, but now you saw flecks of honey and deep browns that bordered on black in them, faded freckles dotted across his cheeks, a chapped patch on his lower lip that had clearly been the victim of some anxious chewing. "I'll make an exception this time, for you."
He let you make the first move, leaning in and gently pressing your lips to his, soft and slow. You could feel his breath catch in his throat, prompting you to pull back and look at him through fluttered lashes, as your mouth parted slightly to ask him if that was okay, his big ring clad hands cupped the sides of your cheeks and pulled you right back into him, kissing you like he was afraid you'd evaporate if he ever stopped. 
The wind was knocked out of you. You couldn't be bothered to breathe when your attention was solely focused on his lips, his tongue, the sharp intake air he sucked in between slotting your top lip down to your swollen bottom one, nipping with teeth and holding your face so close. 
After a minute of soft whimpers and exploring the new intimacy you pull back to finally catch your breath, fully ready to ignore the need for oxygen and lean back in when you see his face, rosy and buzzing with excited energy. 
"Sorry, if that was kind of a lot," he realized you had given the sweetest peck and he proceeded to practically shove his tongue down your throat. 
You however, were already brushing his apology off and leaning in for more, missing the feeling of his big hands cradling your face, sending tingling shockwaves down your body. Before you could lunge back at him and take more of what you wanted, he takes your chin in between his fingers and tilts your head up to his.
"I don't know if you can tell, but I'm sort of crazy about you. And I really don't want to fuck this up, but I've wanted to do that for a really long time.” 
He could tell by your pout that you were begging for another kiss, and he couldn't refuse you. You were completely lost in it. Learning that he let out a little gasp when you ran your fingers up into his hair, that he would catch your bottom lip in between his teeth when you started to pull away and he needed more, that you were already completely wrecked for him. You weren't even conscious of the fact that you were now fully seated in his lap, sandwich wrappers and empty cans long pushed aside. 
Part of you wanted to wait, to let things build up organically over time and get physically intimate when the moment felt right. But fuck it, the moment felt right now. 
Any apprehension or worry of scaring him off dissipated when his thumb ran across your cheekbone, his other strong arm holding you steadily against him, you don't think you could wiggle away if you tried. Swirling in your apprehension you also fought the urge to press your hips down into his and grind against him harder. You wanted to let him take things at his pace and not rush anything, but fuck you could feel his cock getting hard between your legs and it was driving you insane. 
He dragged the knuckle of his middle finger up your neck along the curve of your jaw, speaking softly into your kiss, "can I kiss you here?" pressing his touch into the side of your neck.
"You can do anything you want to me," you pant back, slightly embarrassed at how desperately horny that came out.
"Fuck," he groaned out, cock noticeably twitching against his black jeans and into your thigh, "you can't say shit like that to me."
"Sorry, sorry," you try to gain your composure and lift off him slightly, “I-"
He took a hold of your waist and pulled your back down into his lap, diving into the side of your neck and nipping and sucking until he found the spot that made you squeeze your thighs slightly around him. "Anything I want requires a lot more time and space than we have right now, pretty girl." He mumbled into your neck in between kisses, his words making your back arch slightly more into him. "Plus I need to be a gentleman," you rolled your eyes at this. 
"Since when have you ever worried about that," you tug his hair back to force him to look at you.
"You really want to know what I want, right now?" he quirked an eyebrow.
"Really, really," you let your weight sink down onto his lap a touch more, feeling the stiff length under his jeans slot between your thighs a bit deeper, making his breath hitch before he could respond. 
"I want you to lay back on those blankets up there," he nodded towards the few crumpled up blankets he had shoved behind the driver's seat, "and let me eat your pretty pussy until you're screaming loud enough for the people across the lake to hear."
Whatever you were expecting, it wasn't that. 
This unexpected burst of sexual confidence threw you for a loop, as you were fully prepared to be the one making all the big moves. Your mouth hung open slightly, struggling to form a response when all that was swarming through your mind was holy fuck, holy fuck, that was so hot, what the fuck do I say. 
Rather than respond with words you just roll off his lap and start moving deeper into the back of his van, propping your torso up on bent arms and sending him back a suggestively raised eyebrow. He swung his legs up over the ledge and took one of the doors with him, sliding into the van and quickly shutting the other as well. 
It took a second for your eyes to adjust, the previous sunlight coming in from across the lake was cut off, and the light source now was only coming from the front windows, making things darker but not invisible. You quickly had no trouble making out Eddie's slender form shuffling around and getting situated in between your bent knees, urging you to lay back a bit more and relax as much as your body would allow against the lumpy blanket pile. 
"This is okay?" he asks while leaning down to pick up where you had left off a moment ago. 
"Yes, fuck," you wiggle up into his form, wanting as much contact as he would allow, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into your lips. 
It all had moved faster than you were used to but fuck if it didn't feel so right. Why did you feel more comfortable with this person you hardly knew than you had with your past few long term relationships? He just had this way of taking your nerves and throwing them out the nearest window. 
After sucking on your lower lip until it was puffy and slick he dips his chin into the crook of your neck, dragging his perfect nose up your jugular and nestling into the junction of your neck and ear, licking a stripe all the way. You wanted to desperately buck your hips up into his, but only allowed yourself half the satisfaction of lifting your thigh slightly to give him more space to sink deeper into your slumped form. 
When Eddie’s life flashed before his eyes, on more than one occasion- actually- he wasn’t particularly satisfied with what he saw. In the moments before what he assumed was death, his brain searched for the best moments to accumulate and reminisce on before his body succumbed to the untimely demise he was facing. It wasn’t much. 
He wished he had more than smiling moments with his D&D club, a few killer performances at the Hideout, no killer audiences, some nights of revelry with his friends, and a few forgettable hookups in dingy bar bathrooms. That couldn’t be it, right?
In the wake of his life flashing, fading, and flashing again, he made more space for good things. After his shows now he let himself think about you, and how much he liked you, let himself try his hand at flirting. Because if he was going to come anywhere that close to death again, he needed more to show for it than a few trysts with nameless girls and an unnerving amount of scar tissue. 
So he wasn’t about to fuck this up. If someone came at him with an axe tomorrow, at least he’d have the memory of you splayed out beneath him in the back of his van, lips shiny and cheeks rosy. If his life were to flash before his eyes again it wouldn’t be as bad.  
“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this?” he mumbled into your neck, his denim clad thigh pressing perfectly in between your legs. You could only hum back as if to say, “no, tell me.”
“I think you do know,” his teeth grazed upon your earlobe, sending a jolt through your hips and finding solace in the friction between your thighs with his.
“Yeah, I know,” you breathe out, arching your neck down to nudge the tip of his nose with yours, “do you?”
“I didn’t have a clue,” he mumbled into your lips before slipping his tongue against yours, sickly sweet and laced with all the regret of not asking you out sooner. 
You let your ankles hook around one another, locking your hips together and earning a deep rumble of a moan from the man trapped. “I recall you mentioning something about the people across the lake hearing me…” you playfully trail off, equal parts confidently flirty and deeply desperate for him to act on his earlier promise. 
He had nudged his way down into the neckline of your shirt, licking and nipping at as much of your breasts as he could find, fingertips grazing the waistline of your pants. Part of you wanted to just lay here and let him have his way with you, but the conscious part of your brain recognized the insecurities he expressed in that conversation you weren't supposed to hear, and signaled you to be as forward with him as you could be. 
“Fuck,” you struggled to pry your hands between your pressed bodies to reach your jeans button, “Eddie can I take these off, I want to feel you.” 
With your hands moved south, you managed to undo the clasps of your jeans while also running your hands upwards towards his shirt, wanting to feel the skin beneath. 
It was subtle, but impossible for you to miss, when your fingertips grazed his lower stomach and trailed up his t-shirt his body shifted into a tense state for just a moment. You could have easily missed it. It took all of a millisecond for him to subtly jerk away from you and redirect the attention to your now unbuttoned pants. His hands were dragging the material down your thighs before you had a moment to register the way he averted your touch. 
He playfully tossed your bunched up pants over his shoulder, as if they had anywhere else to go other than the three feet of van between him and the doors. After that flashed moment of shyness, you noticed nothing but a playful smirk on his face, smile crinkled at the corners of his cheeks and eyes full of wild mischief. 
His hands spread against your thighs, digging his fingertips into as much skin as the width of his palms would allow. 
“So fucking perfect,” he drank you in, hardly noticing the moment you pulled your shirt and bra over yourself, but dumbstruck as soon as his eyes caught sight of your reveal.
Knowing he had yet to put his money where his mouth was, he adjusted downwards and let his flushed cheek make contact with your thigh. In that moment he vowed to let the sight of the little damp patch in the center of your cotton panties stay forever in his mind. 
He didn’t let a single thought register in his brain before he leaned forward and let his tongue lick a fat strip up the middle of your clothed center, adding dampness to the apparent arousal already there. 
“Jesus,” you were slightly taken aback at his action, letting your head fall back, while still lowering your gaze down to where his hooded lids and pink tongue sat in between your thighs.
He reveled in the feeling of being between your thighs, letting his tongue play around the center of your panties for a few strokes before the twitching in your legs signaled that you had had enough of his teasing. 
Taking a blissful moment to hook his finger through the crotch piece of your underwear and pull it to the side to reveal your slick center, he simply couldn’t help himself. He pulled back and drank the sight of you in, panties wet with your arousal and his spit pulled to the side and your perfect cunt finally in his sights. 
The groan he let out only tripled your level of neediness for him. You let your chest puff up and hips gyrate forward at nothing to signal that you needed him, like, now.
Before you could even think of something snarky to say to get him to get on with it, his entire face was fully buried in you. An involuntary ahhh escaped you as he let his entire tongue press as far into you as space would allow. 
“Ohmygod,” all coming out in one breath, “fuckeddie.” 
He groaned deeply into you at the feeling of your pussy on his mouth, your taste, how your hips twitched slightly when his nose pressed against your clit. He didn’t even think about all those drunken chats with the boys or stupid cosmo articles he couldn't help but read, eating your pussy didn’t require any thought, he could only feel. 
Your sighs were like a song to him, every sharp inhale and subtle whimper, he caught it all and it was the most beautiful music. He let his tongue swirl faster when he heard your breath hitch, gripped your thigh tighter when you let out that beautiful exhale. 
“So fucking good for me,” he mumbled into your inner thigh in between licks, fully pussy drunk and ready to stay here forever, “fucking perfect.”
After some selfish exploration, he settled on a steady rhythm against your clit, making your back arch and whines jump an octave. 
“Eddie, Eddie,” you groaned, feeling embarrassed how needy your voice already sounded, “can you use your fingers too, please.” Desperate. That’s how you felt, and you couldn't help but be self conscious for any more than a moment, as he immediately headed your request. 
Guitar fingers. You fucking knew it. You always found him attractive and charming, but immediately scolded yourself the moment you started speculating about those damn fingers. If he could learn Metallica solos in private, what else could he do?
Curling upwards in that magically delicious motion that had you already seeing stars, he glanced up at you upon entering and was met with the glorious sight of your mouth hanging open and eyes fluttering shut. 
You simply couldn’t be bothered by the rickety van floor beneath you, the sad lumpy pillow propped under your head, or the stagnant, vaguely cigarette scented air around you. Nope. No thoughts other than the tightening knot in your stomach and how those pretty brown eyes peered up through too-perfect lashes at you in between sinful strokes. 
“Making me feel so fucking good,” you hardly recognized your voice as your own, “please don’t stop, Eddie, please…”
And there it was, euphoric bliss found in the back of a pot dealing metalhead’s van. Your thighs quivered and your brain lost all capacity for thought. All you could feel was the sudden wash of pleasure, the pulsing between your legs, and the tongue and fingers fucking into you as if it was the last thing he ever did. 
Writhing, trying to keep your moans down despite his verbalized promise for them to be heard far and wide, you try to control the jerk of your hips and grip on his hair. You rode out your orgasm, far sooner than you would have liked. You wanted to revel in it. 
After months of relentless flirting and suppressing your attraction to him, you wish you could have held your orgasm off a while longer. You simply couldn't allow yourself to bask in the velvet of his tongue or the tickle of his bangs on your thighs. You needed it too badly to hold off. 
Coming down from your orgasm, a broken moan cracked from you and let him know to slow his roll. In between catching your breath you catch a view of him sucking your release off of his slick fingers, and almost throw yourself at him, beg him to jump your bones. But all you can do is let out a breathy laugh and find the strength to prop yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at him. 
“You come?” he asks, slight snark to his voice.
You muster up the energy to bop him upside the head and ruffle his hair along the way. “Fuck off,” you respond, still breathless, “you know I did.”
“I know,” he cocks his head, still admiring your form, your flushed face and rise and fall of every breath, “It’s polite to ask, though.”
“Ah yes, Eddie Munson, most polite man I know,” you flop back onto the mismatched pillows.
“Hey!” he pretends to sound offended but only manages to tug at your heartstrings, “I’ll have you know, that I am a delight.” 
“Can’t argue with that,” you reach down to feel your dripping folds before hunching forward to search for your underwear, which haven't traveled too far from his knees on the van floor.  
You wanted to return the favor, do more than return the favor, but something about his shift in demeanor and the way he angled his body away from yours slightly to adjust his hard cock in his pants and keep up the too-casual post-orgasm conversation had you thinking it was more than him being too polite to accept your advances. 
“Shit, what time is it,” he begins to shuffle towards the front of the van to check the time while you awkwardly gathered your clothes and redressed, fully assessing that whatever fooling around in the back of this van you were doing was officially over. 
“I, uh, have a few errands to run,” he sounded apologetic, not like he was making some excuse to get you out of his hair, “I can drop you off, or you can come along for the ride…”
There is was, your affirmation that he was just as desperate to hang onto this moment together as you were. 
“I actually have a shift starting pretty soon,” you regrettably admit, “and as much as I’d love to ditch it and be your passenger princess, the Saturday tips are usually the bulk of my rent money so…” 
He understood, he hated how much he understood. 
“What time do you get off?” He didn’t even try to hide how eager he was to see you again, again in ten minutes, again later tonight, again tomorrow, again as many times as you’d let him. 
“Get off? Pretty sure I did that like three minutes ago…” you joke and appreciate his huff of a laugh, “Um, I’m closing, so probably not until like two or three. Don’t worry though, I can give you my number and we can do this again when we’re both free.”
“I’m free later… at two,” his expression was dead serious, “or three, or four, or whenever.” He noticed your brows shoot up and words start to form in your mouth, before you could speak he cuts in, “If you won’t be too tired or anything. I can pick you up?”
“It’ll be pretty late Eds,” you were falling into the trap of his puppy dog eyes, “you don’t need to wait up for me like that, I promise we can see each other again, tomorrow even…”
“Tell me to fuck off if I’m being pushy,” he took your hand in his and mindlessly stroked circles into it with his thumb, “but I’m sort of a night owl, not big on the whole sleeping thing anyways, and I’d love to pick you up from work later.”
“Okay,” you agree, the soft earnestness of his voice snared you, and considered the magic he had just worked between your legs, who were you to say no. The glimmer in his eye and quirked smile at your response had you wishing you had said more than ‘okay,’ wondering what kind of look you would have gotten from a ‘yes, please,’ or ‘I’d love that.’
He drove you back to his trailer, not letting go of your hand during the ride, not even to turn up the music at his favorite parts. He offers to follow you back to your place, insisting that waiting for you to shower and change into work clothes and then drop you off at the Hideout was “on the way” to these supposed errands he had to run. 
You roll your eyes but start to accept that this is the kind of guy Eddie is, insincerity undetectable when he makes these offers. You invite him in, but he opts to wait outside with a cigarette, pacing a bit and then forcing his legs and mind to still by waiting in the drivers seat. 
“Hey hot stuff,” he wolf whistles as you exit your apartment, dressed in your usual black shirt and jeans for work, apron balled up in your bag to put on once you arrive. 
He’s sweet, and sincere. As much as you liked the jab banter between the two of you at the bar, you think you might prefer his sarcastic jokes mixed with sweet compliments and longing gazes more. Not that you weren’t getting that from him at the bar before, there were plenty of longing gazes there too, but now the shared glances are heavy with the knowledge of what his tongue feels like on your cunt. 
A sloppy, exaggerated kiss on the cheek and a ‘go get ‘em tiger’ sends you off into the bar, where your hands will be pouring cheap liquor for the next several hours but your mind will be solely occupied with what your post-work date with Eddie entails. 
The drink special of the night was a mix of anxious anticipation and lustful yearning, shaken too aggressively and served with sunsteady hands. Luckily the Saturday rush kept you mostly focused on vodka sodas and Guinness pours, wiping down sticky surfaces and making change for impatient customers. 
You had assistance behind the bar, and that also meant assistance closing up, finally allowing yourself to start peeking through the window to see if Eddie held up on his promise. Of course he had. He’d been waiting in the lot, scoring a few sales from exiting patrons who knew him previous deals, since long before the bar closed. 
You wipe your sweaty palms onto your apron and ball it up into your bag before bounding across the parking lot towards Eddie, who always seems to have this effortless charisma buzzing around him, a cigarette dangled from his pretty lower lip and posture just slouched enough to still be sexy. Maybe you were biased at this point. 
He pulls you in by your waist, angling his chin up to blow the smoke up into the sky rather in your direction. 
“How was work?” Your cheeks were already starting to grow hot at the feeling of his pinky finger landing on the strip of skin between your shirt and jeans, “Miss me?”
“Bartending’s a lot easier when I don’t have your nosy ass pestering me for free drinks,” you cock your head at him, silently asking for a drag of his cigarette, which he immediately understands and complies, “wasn’t too bad though, happy it’s over,” you exhale. 
“If you’e hungry there’s some fries and a milkshake by the passenger’s seat,” he let you slip from his grasp to spin around towards the van door.
“For me?” you peek through the window, realizing he didn’t just mean extras from his dinner earlier, he had gone out of his way to pick you up a post-work snack.
“Unless you aren’t hungry,” he moves to hop in the drivers side, “In which case you can practice tossing fries into my open mouth while I drive.”
You let a few fries fly across the car seat in his general direction, feeding him the occasional one directly, but inhaling most of them shortly after you peeled out of the parking lot. 
“D’you want me to bring you home, or…” you knew where he was headed with this, a nervous edge to his voice. 
“We can hang out back at your trailer if that’s okay,” you say mid-fry, “as long as I can take a quick shower I don’t mind chilling there.”
He grins like a giddy schoolgirl and grips the steering wheel just a touch tighter, and drives just a bit faster back to the trailer park. As anxious as you felt during your shift, you can’t be bothered to overthink with Eddie leaning towards you with his tongue lolling out of his mouth, making googly eyes at the shake you were downing as his way of asking you for a sip. 
He put the van into park before the wheels had even come to a complete stop, hustling around the front to make sure he was the one to open your door. He had spent some of the time you were away straightening up his trailer for the first time in a good long while. Empty beer cans were cleared and he even changed the bed sheets. It still wasn’t the Ritz or anything, but at least he can say he tried.
He tried to busy himself with locking the door behind you after entering, not wanting to see if your eyes drifted over to the mess of records and smoking pariphenelia that cluttered the coffee table, or the chance that the mixture of heavy metal and nerdy posters strewn about would draw a judgmental reaction. 
When he let his gaze drift back to you, you weren’t looking at any of that. You were looking right back at him, already leaning up on your toes and asking, “Can I kiss you again?” 
A mumbled “of course” had you wrapping your arms around his neck and melting into his touch, finding his lips already on yours before you could go in for the kill. 
The kiss started off French-fry-and-strawberry-shake flavored, smiling into his lips as the anticipation of seeing him again after only a few short hours slips away. 
“Thank’s for spending so much time with me today,” you whisper in between sticky sweet kisses, “and for the fries and-“
He took your cheeks in his hands and smushed your lips into his mid-sentence, pulling back to see the puckered fish face he held between his hands. 
“You’re welcome,” his big button eyes bore straight through you, as if he saw all of you and more, “but you don’t have to thank me, I like being with you, and I ended up eating most of the fries anyways,” he trails off, cheeks rosy and lips slick from your claim on them.
“You wanted to shower?” He cuts himself off, and feels stupid for it. He knew he could keep kissing you and kissing you and kissing you, and the only thing holding him back was his anxious brain and big mouth. 
“Oh, yeah,” you were a little surprised that he remembered, and chose to bring it up now, “if you don’t mind. I always feel a little sticky after work, you know, with the Hideout’s C health rating and all.”
With a smile that nearly knocked the air out of you, he took a deep bow like some silly court jester and motioned down the trailer’s only hallway. You took your lead and followed his outstretched arm, figuring there were only so may doors that could possibly lead to a bathroom. 
“Oh, shit, wait,” you hear him scramble behind you, shuffling past into the door you assume to he his bedroom, emerging milliseconds later with a crumpled towel in his balled up hand, “you’re gonna want this.”
“Thank you,” you’re slow with your movements, wondering how he was acting so squirrelly, like a middle school boy around the girl he wanted to take to the dance, even though he had you fully spread out begging for him in the back of his van only hours earlier, “is the shower big enough for two?”
You meant it equally suggestive and genuine, knowing full well that not all showers are built for partner bathing. However, the fear stricken look that washed across his face for a millisecond before scrunching up and setting to neutral had you thinking you had just asked if there was a built in hot tub or something like that. His mouth hung open and for a moment that conversation you weren’t supposed to hear replayed in your mind, maybe you had to take this slower than he was willing to let on. 
“Just looking for someone to massage my scalp, that’s all,” you try to jokingly play it off, keeping your invitation open but concealing it with a joke to double back on just in case.
“Yeah, it’s- uhhh,” Eddie, who was always quick with a comeback was suddenly lost for words, “It’s the size of a normal shower, yeah.” It’s not like he could lie, all you had to do was turn around and size it up for yourself. 
You take the towel from his white knuckled grip and pivoted towards the door that was close to having burn holes from where his laser focused eyes were shot. You give him a wink over your shoulder, figuring that was enough of an invitation and vague enough of an excuse for him to leave depending on what he wanted. You hated this line you were towing, knowing more than you should- yet still feeling so in the dark. 
He was right, it was a normal sized shower. A bathtub with a sliding door and a detachable shower head with only one working setting. There was a rack with three-in-one and a bar of dove soap, which should have annoyed you but made you giggle instead. You let a quarter sized drop of the generic body wash slash shampoo slash conditioner lather into your hands when you heard the bathroom door creek open, purposefully left unlocked. 
“Hey, is it okay I’m in here?” He sounded so genuine in his concern, unknowing you were on the verge of begging him to get in the shower with you. 
“Yeah,” you borderline shout over the running water, “here to help massage my scalp?” You let your tone stay light and joking despite being deadly serious. 
“Wow I didn’t realize your hands were really that delicate and incapable,” he tried to match your energy, but an anxious edge remained present. 
“I mean,” you searched for your words, “I’ve seen you play Metallica, I know those fingers could surely get this pine scented crap deep into my roots.” You let the suggestive comment linger, nervous after a beat of silence passed. 
“If you really need my help,” you heard him shuffling around , “who am I to turn a damsel in distress away?”
You felt your cheeks get rosy and shoulders wiggle with excitement as you caught the shower door jerk open. Your face was towards the shower head, and you only turned a quarter of the way around before Eddie stepped in behind you and those guitar-string-calloused-hands gripped your shoulders and twisted you back towards your view of the water stream. 
“I’m gonna make you a deal,” his voice was coated with as much charisma as he could muster, his worries only poking through enough for you to notice, “I’ll give you the full treatment, but you can’t turn around.”
You were willing to play along with about any game he suggested. If he asked you to bend over backwards you’d extend your spine as far as it could go. 
You stood with your front as straight towards the shower head as you could, only feeling his presence behind you and his gentle hands lay on your shoulders to assure you wouldn’t turn around. 
“Just let me take care of you,” he edged closer, letting you feel his naked body enter your space, his face craning over your shoulder to gauge your reaction, “Just stay like this and let me feel you.”
It was less of a question and more of a plea, the only thing more pathetic sounding was the whimper that slipped out of you when you felt his body press against your back, warm and hesitant to press all the way into you, but close enough for you to feel his skin. 
“Okay,” you let your head lull back onto the space between his collar bone and shoulder, keeping your eyes closed, not that you could see anything from this angle anyways, “I’ll stay just like this, promise.”
“I just-“ you could hear his walls come up, suddenly trying to find the words to explain himself to you, “I’m not-“
“Eddie,” you whisper, eyes fluttering open to glance up at him as much as you could, “it’s okay. I’ll stay just like this, I’m just happy to be here with you.”
You gently found his hands resting at your hips and guided them up to your soapy scalp, “We both know the real reason I called you in here anyways,” you joked, and angled your head straight forward so he could run the pads of his fingers all through your 3-in-1 coated hair.
He let out a light chuckle at your joke, nearly feeling it catch in his throat as all the passed time of insecurity and locking his feelings away welled up and shattered with the intimacy of washing your hair. What did he do to deserve having you like this? For you to understand and want him to stay anyways? 
As much as his emotions clouded his vision and stunted his breathing, the rush of blood in between his legs broke his internal monologue. As overwhelmed as his mind was, his body couldn’t be convinced to focus on anything other than the sudsy girl pressed up against him, letting out little noises of satisfaction as he let his fingers absentmindedly massage away. 
“This’s nice,” you lean back into him a bit, “it’s like masturbating, you know? Always feels better when someone else does it for you.” You didn’t feel too guilty about the sexually charged comment, considering the fat rod that was pushing into your lower back. 
He let out a short chuckle, but his breathing was rapidly turning heavy as the air clouded with steam and your wet body rubbed against him, fully arching into his erection as if you wanted to get a better feel. 
“Can I wash the rest of you?” his request is polite, but his voice is lust filled and bordering on begging. 
You hum in agreement and lift your arms to let him slip his hands around you, one crossing your chest and the other reaching around to get more gel, “It technically is shampoo and body wash, and I was promised the full treatment here.” 
As much as you wanted to keep joking with him, finding silly things to comment on to break the tension, your resolve was quickly going down the drain as his big hands lathered you up. 
“You’re so beautiful,” his voice is just audible over the rushing of the shower water, “I’ve always thought so, but now I fucking know it.” 
His warm breath against your ear manages to cut through the heat of the steam, making you shiver despite it all. “Eddie,” you whine, his hands running up and down your torso, spending more time on your chest than the rest, but surely showering you in as much attention as his hands could reach.
Knowing that tone from earlier, already committing to knowing your body as intimately as you’ll allow him to, he immediately gives in and touches you exactly where you want him most. 
Most of the bubbles had dissipated, and he held you close to him, with one hand splayed across the center of your chest and the other dipping down to run two fingers through your now parting legs. 
He could feel the slick of your folds, standing out from the water cascading down your body, so warm and wet in a different way. 
“Fucking hell,” he groans out, letting his hips roll forwards slightly to find some friction against your backside, sliding his fingers from your hole up to your clit a few experimental times before letting his middle and ring fingers dip into you. 
When he had gone to town on you earlier in his van, which somehow felt like a million light years ago, you had taken a keen interest to the way his metal rings brushed up against your inner thighs and lower lips when he slipped his digits into you. As much as you had reveled in that new sensation, he had taken all his jewelry off along with the rest of his clothes and reservations before joining you in the shower. And now you could grind down onto his hand until he was completely buried to the hilt of his knuckles, no demon heads or upside down crosses in your way.
You wanted to wiggle and writhe around, feeling a bit week in the knees and desperate to buck your hips down against his pumping fingers. He pressed your chest tighter against him, lips pressed up against your ear, “I thought you promised to be good and stay still for me.”
He could feel your pussy clench at that, letting out a satisfied chuckle and  plunging his fingers right back into your cunt, letting the meat of his palm massage your clit in perfect time. 
“S’ this what you wanted,” his voice had the full bodied confidence of a man who didn’t just ask you to not turnaround to see him without a shirt on, “for me to be all sweet and wash your hair, then make you cum on my fingers like the dirty girl I know you are?” 
The smallest fraction of you wanted to be a brat and joke back at his silly use of shower innuendo, but your mind was almost entirely committed to the feeling of his hands on you and his dick rutting Into the meat of your ass.
“Eddie,” you could barely squeak his name out, “Eddie, can I touch you too, please? Please?” While his voice had been pleading before, you were literally begging to get your hands on him. 
“Like this,” you manage to open your eyes, head still resting against his shoulder and your hand snaking back to where his cock pressed into you, not fully grabbing it but motioning towards it with your hand. 
He snatches your wrist up with the hand not occupied with your tightening pussy, and for a second you fear that you had crossed a boundary. 
As much as you were willing to comply with not looking, you were bursting at the seams to touch him, make him feel good, show him how much you wanted to be right here with him and nowhere else. 
Before your mind could race any further, come to a screeching halt and apologize, he guides your hand up underneath your chin and demands “Spit.”
Your short circuiting brain dashes from his fingers, remaining crooked inside of you, his request, and the tone of voice he used to ask. You were fucked. Drool leaks from your lips before you even have the chance to process his words other than the immediate feeling of oh fuck yes. 
He brings your spit coated hand back to reach around, allowing you to wiggle it in between your wet bodies and find his eager cock already arching into your touch. 
He only faltered for a moment, the consistent dizzying pace of his fingers inside you stuttered the moment he felt your slick palm take an experimental stroke. The moan he let out was involuntary, along with a breathy “Oh, shit.”
Obviously you couldn’t size him up visually, but the weight of him in your palm was enough to have your mouth watering and thighs squeezing his wrist a bit tighter. Uncut? Maybe? With a pretty patch of curls to match his mop top? 
“Just like that, please,” you whine out into the steamy air, the two of you finding a joint rhythm between your hands and subtly rolling hips. 
“Your pussy feels so fucking good, so warm and tight for me,” every other word slurred into the curve of your neck. 
“You’re gonna make me cum,” you try and match his increasing speed with your hand, “Eddie, please don’t stop, I’m-“
“Shhhh,” he was getting lost in it too, “I’ve got you.”
Your legs turn to jelly, but he keeps you steadily upright with his support on your chest, focusing entirely on you despite the welling orgasm of his own rapidly approaching. 
It’s the crack in your voice that pushes him forward, the high pitched breathy moans crumbling and releasing the noises of pleasure from deep within your chest. His name  mixed in with ahhhs and uhhhs as if his name is the only word you know in this moment. 
“That’s right,” a sense of confidence welled in him as your limp body twitched against his and your cunt squeezed his relentless fingers, “cum all over my hand, doing so good for me.”
Despite your orgasm wracking your brain and body succumbing completely to whatever Eddie was willing to give you, the thought of collapsing into the shower floor never crossed your mind. He held you so close and steady against his chest, it crosses your mind that you may not be putting any weight onto your feet at all by this point. 
Rather than catch your breath as you come down from your quaking orgasm, you slip deeper into the throws of pleasure, biting your lip and craning your neck backwards so he can see the fucked out expression on your face. A few more steady, enthusiastic pumps mixed with a desperate kiss, wet and at an awkward angle, breathless and needy, perfect and dizzying, sends Eddie over the edge with you.
The deep rumble of his chest against your back as he groans into your open mouth, encourages you to keep your pace as he gently fucks himself into your hand. He’s spilling into your hand and halting his wiggling fingers buried inside you, letting the momentum that the two of you had built up come to a pulsing end. 
The two of you stay tangled in each other for a moment, hands sticky and brows dewy with sweat despite the running water, which had long lost its heat and now settled at a less than comfortable lukewarm. Neither one of you wanted to move. Eddie would have stayed there until his legs cramped and the shower turned ice cold. 
His eyes were screwed shut, head tilted back, still holding you close until you wiggled from his iron grip to bring your cum covered fingers up to your lips to suck two of them clean. 
“Jesus Christ,” he was thankful that he had opened eyes in enough time to witness that, “You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me, you know that?”
You let out a mischievous giggle with his cum coated fingers still in your mouth, glancing over your shoulder to catch the look on his face. Equal parts hungry to pick you up and fuck you against the shower wall right now, and melting down to nothing and slipping away down the drain, unable to even start comprehending what had just transpired between you two. 
You let your fingers go with a pop and turn back around, “Don’t act like you weren’t going to do the same,” you let the chilling water hit your face, focusing on anything other than turning around and lunging at him, wrapping your body around his and letting your skin melt into his. 
He gives into temptation and lets his pruny fingers meet his tongue. He knew what you tasted like from your escapade in his van eaierler, but he’d seize any change he got to take in as much of you as he could. 
“That was,” he started, unsure how to sum how he felt, good, great, perfect, none of those words felt correct, “fuck, yeah- that,”
“Me too,” you press your back into his again, “Thank you Eddie.”
Before he can stumble over his words any more, you ask if he’s okay for you to shut the water off, and you ask if he’d be willing to spare some sleep clothes for you to borrow. You curiously stay in the shower while he takes your excuse for him to leave unseen. 
After toweling off and slipping into the old t-shirt and boxers he left folded up on the counter for you, you found him already dressed and in bed, set criss cross and packing a bong. 
“Post-shower-orgasm smoke, cuddle, then sleep?”
“I’d love nothing more,” you get cozy among the pillows and let the swirling smoke and easy conversation lull you into a comforting half sleep. 
An easy energy settled between the two of you, a silent understanding that you weren’t going to ask him questions, and a building comfort that made him almost ready to show you. 
You slept tucked into his side, and didn’t even mind his snoring or tossing in the night. Every time he rolled over, your sleeping form just found a new way to mold into him. It was the best he had slept in months. 
A steady stream of sunlight blazing directly through the blinds and into your eyes pulled you from your slumber, gorging your groggy eyes to open and crunched up limbs to search for room to stretch. The involuntary fluttering of your eyes and long extension of your libs was far beyond your control. 
“Oh!” You whisper out to yourself once your brain manages to catch up with your waking body, realizing the somewhat compromising position the night had thrown you into, your leg hiked up and clinging to Eddie’s waist, with both your arms scrunching up his t-shirt and leaving a strip of stomach exposed. 
A negligible, unnoticeable few inches between where his sweatpants hung low on his hips and where your gripping arms had balled up his hole-ridden t-shirt stood before your gaze. 
You didn’t mean to stare, and the moment you caught yourself doing so, you quickly and quietly removed your tangled limbs from his and repositioned yourself so that he was half spooning you, eyes facing far away from his unintentionally exposed scar tissue. 
You knew it was probably going to be worse than you were expecting. You hadn’t dedicated much thought to what it could be, or what maybe had happened. You just knew it made him feel like he wasn’t worth your time, and you needed to make him feel seen and safe enough to know that that couldn’t be true. 
Everyone has insecurities, sure. There are surely parts of yourself you weren’t eager to share with the world, let alone someone you’re romantically interested in. You had moved past being astonished that someone who wore gaudy costume jewelry and sang boisterous music for a bar of twelve patrons with the energy of someone who had sold out Madison Square Garden would ever shrink into their shell the way you had seen Eddie. Now, laying in his bed and knowing that whatever it was, the scars were more than what was on his skin.
“Mfffmmm,” he groans and shifts behind you, wiggling beneath the sheets and snaking his arms to wrap around your waist and pull you close into him, “This is nice.”
His morning voice was scratchy and barely above a whisper. 
“I think you just like that my butt is all pressed up on you,” you joke, dodging admiring that you’d rather be here than anywhere in the world in this moment. 
“Yeah, I’m not complaining,” he digs his nose into the side of your neck, “But you smell nice too, ’s nice to wake up to.”
“That 3-in-1’s really doing it for ya?”
“No, you do smell like that a little, but more just like yourself. Girl smell.”
“I’ll get started on that perfume line right away. Girl Smell. Might be a million dollar business venture.”
“I just woke up,” the sleep in his voice melted away and his hands running up and down your sides were more deliberate, “Don’t make fun of me. Plus I’ve got a pretty girl in my bed making me all nervous.”
“Anyone with magic fingers like you has nothing to be worried about,” you keep the conversation playful but allow the unspoken truth, that he truly has nothing to worry about with you, be spoken.
“You just like ‘em cuz I washed your hair so well,” he plays with a strand, letting his finger pads dig into your scalp and scratch away, massaging a bit harder after you let out a satisfied groan.
“You must have lots of practice,” you reach an arm back blindly and half smack the side of his shoulder before finding his messy bedhead, staying resolutely facing the poster-covered wall. 
“You’ve got really pretty hair for a boy,” you let your finger wrap around a curl. 
“For a boy?! Excuse me, I have pretty hair period.”
“Yeah, suppose that’s true” you giggle at his joking defensiveness, “It’s incredible that it’s this nice considering you use the same thing to condition your hair as you do to wash your balls.”
“If you show me what kind of shower products you like I’ll replace the three in one,” he nuzzles his face into the hand playing with your hair, “but maybe the three in one is what’s keeping it so luscious.”
“I wanna wash your hair next time,” you say absentmindedly, meaning it wholeheartedly, with little anxiety after that you had implied a next time. 
“Yeah maybe next time,” his voice trailed off, still soft and flirty but edging on a tone that let you know this conversation was just about over. 
“Eddie,” it came out as hardly more than a whisper. You wait for him to respond but the gravity of the silence between you quickly became unbearable and you needed to break whatever tension this was. 
“I meant it yesterday when I said I wanted to go on more dates with you. You know that right?”
“Mhmm” he mumbles into your shoulder, still holding you against him.
“We have a lot of fun at the bar and stuff,” you search to find your words, “But I want you to know that I don’t just like you cuz you make me laugh and have magic guitar fingers. I like pretty much everything about you so far, and I want to know you more if you’ll let me.”
Your voice wavers, and your message is perhaps more vague than you would have liked, but the deep exhale he lets out conveys that he hears you loud and clear. 
“I know I’ve been…” he starts, “It’s just that I…”
“It’s okay Eddie,” you flip around, rolling so that your chests are pressed together and noses are almost touching, “I don’t want to push it. You can tell me when you’re ready, I just want you to know that I like you a whole lot and I don’t think there’s much that could change that right now.”
His eyelashes flutter shut, forehead touching yours, “Thank you.” 
“Unless you have a huge chest tattoo of something wildly offensive, or like a tramp stamp that says ‘I heart Ronald Regan.” He appreciates your natural ability to make him laugh even in situations like this. 
“Nah,” he pulls back and gives you a serious look, “Fuck Ronald Regan.” 
The two of you burst into a fit of giggles, rolling deeper into the sheets and settling into a comfortable cuddle again, with your head on his chest, face angled up to his and legs all tangled up.
Coming down from the beginnings of the conversation that had been lingering above both of your heads, you place a few reassuring kisses up his jaw and find your way up to his parted lips. 
“Mmmm,” he hums into the deepening kiss to signal you to stop, “I probably have mega morning breath,” he huffs into a cupped hand which makes you laugh and flop your head back into his chest.
“It’s okay, if you do then I do too and didn’t notice,” you peek back up at him, “But if you want to brush teeth and get your day started I won’t stop you.”
“No, no,” he grabs your cheeks and pulls you back up for a smushed kiss, “I wanna stay here all day with you, if you’ll let me. Our second date, we can order a pizza and watch movies here, won’t even have to put pants on.”
“That sounds really nice, I don’t have work today so I’m all yours.”
“All mine,” his grin reaches the apples of his cheeks, “I will go brush my teeth though, cuz I think this second date involves a lot of kissing.”
“Got a spare I could use?” you shuffle out of bed before situating yourself  on the edge of the bed, “Or do you brush with three in one too?”
“Oh my god,” he chuckles, “you with the three in one. After today I promise there will be three separate shower products stocked and ready for your use.”
He manages to find a spare toothbrush in the closet and keeps you wrapped in his arms while both of you take turns spitting into the sink. Looking at the two of you, eyes still crusty from sleep, in the scratched up bathroom mirror, a weird sense of domesticity washes over the two of you. 
Eddie realizes that less than 48 hours ago he was too nervous to make a move to kiss you, and now he was already thinking about making room for your toiletries in his bathroom. 
As comforting and easy it was to do normal everyday things with you at his side, he couldn’t help but notice your nipples poking through his oversized t-shirt you slept in and the way your toothpaste full mouth was framed by your perfect, spit slicked lips. 
“You got a spit kink or something?” You half joke, pressing your ass into the growing rod you could feel nudging against your side.
“Sue me,” he spits and wipes the corners of his mouth, pulling you by the waist into a minty kiss. “Bed? All day?”
“Mhmm,” you agree and lean in to kiss him again, standing on your toes and letting out a shriek of surprise when he scoops you up bridal style and travels the short distance to his bedroom. 
“Eddie!” You yelp out as he gently tosses you back into the pile of sheets. 
“I know I’m no Hulk Hogan, but moving guitar amps is pretty good strength and conditioning.”
“Shut up, you never help your friends carry the equipment.” You think of all the times you watched his poor bandmates lug their equipment after a show while he seamlessly flirted with you. 
“Not when you’re around, you’ve got me there.”
As promised the two of you laze around all morning, bowls of cereal in bed and a bowl of weed to accompany it, switching between fits of giggles and tangled in the sheets while a B horror movie plays on the little TV set propped up near the end of Eddie’s bed. 
He tells you about how he used to live with his Uncle in a trailer down the street until he saved up enough to start renting his own, the three attempts to finish high school and the relief when the local mechanic shop hired him despite his reputation around town as a satan worshiper. He talks a bit about his friends, some who’ve stayed in town and others who’ve long moved away. 
You listen attently, taking in every spared detail. In return he asks you about where you’re from, why the hell you had moved to a bumfuck town in Indiana to be a bartender. He assures you that you wouldn’t have liked him if you had known each other in high school and you laugh and tell him you were far from popular yourself. 
After inhaling a large pizza and running out of VHS tapes you demand a “post pizza bloated cuddle” to which he happily obliges.
“Wish we could do this every day,” he pulls you into him.
“Then we’d need a much bigger movie selection, and maybe body doubles to go do our jobs,” you don’t disagree, although lazy and uneventful the day felt perfect. 
“Don’t wanna go to work tomorrow,” he whines, holding you a little tighter.
“Me either, but we can’t be in this lazy cuddle bubble forever,” his hands came up to massage and scratch your scalp, which he now knew you loved, “but next time we’re both free maybe we can have that third date.”
“If I remember correctly, date three is when I finally get to kiss you,” he jokingly smooches behind your ear and down your neck. 
“Only if you behave,” you reply sarcastically, “you’ve been such a gentleman lately, but you’ve been pushing it mister.” 
“I’ve never been accused of being a gentleman before,” his voice trails off as he buries his nose into your neck, “Will you let me be a gentleman now, make you feel good?” His tone was suddenly dripping with lust, sending a rush of arousal through your already so-relaxed body. 
“Mhmm,” you agree and let your body mold back into his a bit more, pressing yourself against him and letting his hands start to wander.
You arch your neck around from your spooning position and search for his lips, your kiss starting out gentle but not staying that way for very long. 
“You’re just somethin’ else,” he breathes out in between heated kisses, his eyes big and round, earnest, making your heart swell.
“Can I make you feel good too?” you roll your hips into his erection, your breath catching in your throat when you feel it pulsing under his boxers and pressing into the space between your legs. 
You flip around to straddle him, not hiding your intention to grind yourself down onto his covered cock, moans from both of you interrupting the hungry exchange of tongues and lips.
A shaky breath grabs your attention and he finds the air to exhale out, “Can I fuck you?”
You bring your hands to his cheeks to pull him into a deep kiss, continuing to rock your hips against him, giving him words as well you mumble a “Fuck yes, please, please Eddie.”
He finds the hem of your shirt and slips it over your shoulders, the momentary break in kissing makes you whine. He immediately makes it up to you by paying delightful attention to your exposed chest, leaving sloppy wet kisses on every inch of skin he had access to, “fuck”s and “so perfect” breaking them up. 
You instinctively reach down in between the two of you to take his hard cock into your hand, still pressing your core against it, but taking the rest into your hand to stroke him over his boxers, the choked out moan that escapes him is the prettiest sound you’ve ever heard.
You’re losing yourself in the feeling of his weight in your palm, sitting up to see his gorgeous fucked out expression, pinched eyebrows and flushed cheeks.
He swore he’d died and gone to heaven, despite all his sins, with you above him, lip tucked in between your grinning teeth as you rubbed up on him. Fuck, there was no going back after this.
You lean down to resume making out for a moment, missing the feeling of his nose pressed into the side of yours and his too-perfect eyelashes brushing the tops of your cheeks. 
“We can, um-“ you catch your breath, hips stuttering as you find your words, “I can turn around. Or we can make a blindfold or something.” 
His heart swelled at the thought that amidst fucking yourself against his lap you still had the courtesy to think of his comfort, his obvious insecurity, the elephant in the room that he was so desperately trying to shoo away. 
“I want you,” his voice strangely steady, “and I’ll let you have me, no stipulations.” 
You nod with a “Please.”
“Only because, I plan on fucking you every chance I get,” his tone makes you clench your thighs, “So we might as well rip this bandaid off now, because if you’re going to be my girlfriend I don’t want you worrying that I’m hiding something from you.”
He flips you over so you’re now laying beneath him, eyes still glassy with lust and mind swirling with the words he’s just let out.
“I’m gonna take off my shirt now, and I don’t want you to pretend like everything is fine, or that you don’t notice anything, because that’ll be a thousand times worse, okay? I know it’s bad. It doesn’t hurt or anything, but I know it’s not easy to look at.”
With that he pull this black t-shirt off by the back neck collar, and bares his soul to you. You can tell he’s examining your face for a reaction, very carefully managing your facial expressions for his benefit. 
He was right, it wasn’t easy to look at. Only because it made you wonder what horrible thing had happened to leave half of his torso, hip, thigh, and what you could only assume traveled onto his back as well, left entirely torn away and scarred. 
“And-“ he cut off your wandering eyes with his words, “Don’t ask what happened. I’ll tell you eventually I just- We can’t have that discussion if we’re about to have sex.” 
You nodded with understanding, you knew better than to ask. 
You think that your snooping and seed of knowledge helped hide some of your shock, his comment about missing a nipple dampening your realization that he was telling the truth, the scar tissue running so deep that his entire pec was covered in a jagged pink , slightly mishapen scar tissue, and leaving his opposite nipple to stand alone on his chest. 
The one thing that did leave you in a bit of shock was half of a tattoo on his hip that abruptly ended where the scar tissue started. Some sort of zombie head, the black ink lines all coming to a halt when’re his skin had been injured.
You let a tentative hand come up, fearing he’ll flinch away, but he doesn’t. You touch his chest, feeling the textural difference as you let your palm run across his chest and down to his hip. 
“You know, I still think you’re super hot, right?” You try to assure him, but he only lets out a dry chuckle. 
“I mean it,” you sit up a bit, pulling your hand from its exploration of his skin and bringing it to your own chest, using three fingers to cover your left nipple, “you’d still like me, right?” 
The softness in his face almost made you jump up to wrap him into a hug, you wanted him to know that everything was okay and he was safe with you, whatever happened was in the past and he didn’t have to worry. Although the moment was emotionally charged, neither of you could ignore the fact that you were both ravenously horny for each other. 
“I’m sorry you felt like you had to hide this from me,” you pull his face down to yours, “but I’m glad you showed me, because I’m so fucking ready for you to ruin me.”
He lurches forward and lets his body weight collapse down onto you, your legs widening to wrap around his hips, arm and legs locking him against you. 
Feeling his bare chest pressed against yours, lips on your neck and hips rutting into your spread legs, has your head spinning. 
“Please Eddie,” you whine, “let me feel you.”
Without missing a beat he shoves the waistband of his boxers down just enough to reach his thighs, hard dick springing free in the little space in between you, and he snatches your wrist and shoves it in between your bodies without unlatching his lips from your collar bone. 
“Oh fuck,” you couldn’t see what you were grasping, just like in the shower, but you didn’t dare push him off of you to catch a glimpse. He was all over you, hands tangled in your hair, groans and whimpers hardly making their way out in between the wet sloppy kisses he spread across your neck and chest. 
He slips a hand down your body, gracing your ribcage with his fingertips, a stark contrast to how they suddenly part your lips and rub the pool of slick from your hole up to your clit. 
“So wet, this for me?” He quirks and eyebrow and sinks a digit into you, causing your mouth to open and hips to wiggle up to ask for more.
“Yes ’s for you,” you breathe out, wanting to give him some pushback, wipe the smug look off his face, but not finding an ounce of courage to do so. You just let your head lull back and eyelids flutter shut as he curls his fingers perfectly inside you. “All for you.”
You use your free hand to push your underwear as far down your hips as this position will allow, not wanting to shift your focus from the feeling of him on your lips, his pulsing cock in your hand. 
“Need you,” you gasp out, partially at the feeling of his knuckle deep fingers buried inside of you, and equally the fucked out look on his face looming over yours, eyes blown wide and mouth parted on the verge of begging for more, “Eddie, need you to fuck me, please.”
He sits up and removes his fingers from you, earning a wince and a whine. He helps crunch your legs up to remove your panties, leaving your legs raised and crossed over one of his shoulders. He takes a moment to kiss your ankle and tenderly run his hands down the length of your leg. He took the moment to take off his own boxers, leaving you both bare in front of each other for the first time. 
“You’ve got a pretty cock,” you complement him earnestly, it was pretty. He gave you a halfhearted scoff and an eyeball in return. “No Eds, I mean it. It’s big too, good thing you got me ready with your fingers. That and I’ve been soaking wet for you for like 48 hours now, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” you giggle. His shy smile tells you he’s willing to take the compliment. 
You let your legs fall from their perch on his shoulder and fall to either side of his hips, opening yourself up to him. He’s staring, mouth half agape. It’s nothing he hasn’t seen before, but to have you laid out like this before him, fully ready to give yourself over to him and wanting him wholly in return, how couldn’t he stare. 
You let your hand stroke up his cock, bringing his attention back to where the two of you nearly met. You angle him closer to you, you’re slowly pumping fist brushing against your own center. He snaps out of his trance and nudges your hand away, using his own grip to tap his thick cock against your opening. 
Tap, tap tap. His head meets your slick folds, hips jerking slightly with every tap.
“Don’t tease me Eds,” you push your hips forward and are only met with him rubbing his dick into the outside of your pussy, “want you inside, need it so bad.”
He want’s to be a bother and continue his teasing, watching your writhe and squirm, but he can’t find it in him to deny you, so he presses the tip in and gauges your face for a reaction, only finding babbling bliss and pleas for more. 
He’s sinking into you at an agonizing pace, craning down from his kneeling position above you to frame your head with bent arms and his lips on yours as you moan into each other’s mouths, him filling you more and more. 
Your hands are in his hair, keeping your foreheads anchored together, breathing in tandem. He finally sinks all the way down and you can feel it in your lungs. You wrap your ankles around his back and squeeze him into you tighter, not wanting him to move just yet, wanting to just feel how deep he filled you up for the first time. 
He lets out a shaky exhale and squeezes his eyes shut, “You were fuckin’ made for me,” he punctuates this with a subtle roll forward of his hips, lips falling into yours as if they had nowhere else to go. 
You let your legs fall back, unclasping his hips, and move your hands from his wild hair down to his thighs, pushing him to start fucking you. 
“Feel’s so fucking good,” you whisper into his mouth, your hands hardly assisting him anymore as he pumps in and out of your slick cunt, almost knocking the air out of you each time. 
He grabs your chin with the hand that’s not propping himself up, “look at me,” his pace doesn’t falter and your mind nearly turns to mush, “you’re mine now, yeah?”
“Yes Eddie,” it comes out as a broken sob, your eyes barely able to focus on him with how close he was, “all yours, only yours.” Your mind had barely made the decision to say the words before they had escaped your lips, a dumbfounded truth serum setting over you in your cock drunk state. 
You knew it to be true though, there was no going back after this, and you were willing to give yourself over fully, and accept anything he would give you. 
“Ahh, fuck” you let out after a particularly harsh thrust, fists now dripping the sheets beneath you. 
“So fucking good for me,” his hands now found purchase on your hips, setting a rhythm between you that only a musician could. 
Through glassy eyes you admire him. Curly bangs stuck to his forehead, frantically thrusting torso making his tattoos look like stop motion cartoons, and through it all the scars are hardly noticeable. If anything, they’re just another part of him, the person between your legs that you found incredibly sexy, insecurities and all. 
His perfect hands slid from your hips to your shoulders, now using the weight of your torso as leverage to fuck into you harder. His eyes bore into yours, searching for eye contact and finding your reassuring gaze that told him this was everything you wanted and more. 
“Yes, yes, oh fuck,” you babble out. His little grunts and whimpers send volts of electricity to your core and fog your mind with lust and desire.
He moves a hand down to meet your center, palm splaying across your abdomen and keeping you pinned to the bed, thumb methodically catching your clit with each thrust. He didn’t have to ask if it felt good, the rolling back of your eyes and mouth so wide he could see your molars were enough of an indication that he was headed in the right direction.
“Mhmmmm,” you could hardly form words, but smiled up through your fucked out gaze at him, wide beam and lust fulled eyes telling him that he couldn’t possibly be making you feel any better than you do right now. 
He leans back a bit, balancing himself on his thighs keeping his pace, thumb on your clit and eyes locked into yours. Through a groan he brings his unoccupied hand up to his face, biting down on the knuckle of his pointer finger, trying not to blow his load at the feeling of you squeezing around him. 
Of course, this only made him look hotter to you, and thus you flexed around his cock even tighter. 
Unexpectedly, he pulls out of you completely and before you can muster up the breath to complain, he’s dipped his lapping tongue against you. He fully buries himself into your cunt, cutting off the rhythm, of his cock with the somehow perfectly timed pulsing of his hungry tongue. 
You can’t help but cry out, arch your hips, and send a hand flying to his hair to ground yourself. Through frantic panting and wet slurping sounds you think you can make out a “just had to taste you.”
Completely breathless, you can hardly conjure a response before he’s plunging into you again, fucking into you deeply and capturing your parted lips into a passionate kiss.
Something takes over you, and you’re suddenly wrapping your legs around his hips and using some found momentum to flip the two of your over. Suddenly, you’re on top of him, his curls splayed around his pretty face and body laid flat beneath you. 
Before you had a moment to question yourself, you anchor your hands onto his shoulders and try your best to pick up the pace he had set earlier. Hips rolling and wet slapping sounds coming from between you. 
“Jesus- fuck,” he stuttered in his movements, unsure if he wanted his hands on your face or your tits or your hips or… they landed on your ass and he wouldn’t argue with his first instincts. 
“Eddie, I’ve wanted you like this for so long,” your words were breathy and mixed with lustful gasps, “always wanted to have you like this.”
“We could have done this a long time ago, huh?” He tries not to think about all the time wasted, and instead fantasies about all the making up for lost time you’ll do in the near future. 
“You were always giving me those eyes while you played with your band,” you looked angelic to him, face hovering above him, framed only be the poor overhead lighting and flickering VHS menu of the last film you’d finished, “I always wanted you, just wasn’t sure you wanted me like this too.”
Your statement was simple enough, but he knew what you meant. You wanted him more than a fuck, and that’s what he had been worried about all along. Now, to have you sunk down on his cock like this, telling him that you had been scared in the same way as he had, only made him roll his hops up into you and pull your cheeks down for a sloppy kiss to seal the deal. You were finally on the same page. 
Switching from a bounce of your hips, you lean back slowly and shift to more of a roll, keeping his cock buried deep inside of you while you gyrate your hips. Your arm extends back in between his spread legs to keep you stable, your torso finding its own rhythm in the midst of pleasure and fucking yourself onto his cock. 
“So fucking perfect,” he gasps out, hardly able to take in the sight of your body writhing and rolling above him. He manages to find bait of sense in his brain and brings his hand back to your lower stomach, thumb flicking over your clit with every thrust of your hips. 
“Oh,eddieohmygosh,” it came out as one breathy syllable, “pleasedon’tstopthat.”
He gently fucks himself up into you, matching your movements and not throwing you off of the sinful rhythm you’ve set, just managing too punctuate each bounce with the raise of his hips into yours and the increased pressure of his thumb on your clit. 
“Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck,” he loves the way each breathy word out of your lips is matched with the beautiful bounce of your tits, “Eddie, you’re gonna-“
He doesn’t change a thing, the pressure on your clit, the arch of his hips, he would sooner die than rob you of pleasure or ruin this moment. Every moment he get’s to look at you, he thinks it’s the most beautiful you’ve ever looked, but he knows for sure that this one takes the cake. 
“Ahhh, I’m-“ you don’t  have to finish your statement for him to know you’re cumming on his cock, the pulsing squeeze of your walls and intense concentration from him not to bust on the spot, and rather to focus on the parting of your lips and the twitching of your hips on his. 
“That’s it,” he keeps his thumb on your clit, but lets up on the pressure as soon as he feels you jerk against him, “that’s my girl.”
You lurch down and wrangle him into a kiss, only wanting to feel his lips on yours as you come down from your orgasm. You’re still slowly rolling your hips against his, but focused more on the feeling of his cheeks under your palms and his lips on yours. 
“You okay?” He asks in between tongue tied kisses. 
“Yes, perfect, thank you,” you arch your back into him a bit, “ready for more.” 
Although you were fully prepared to bounce on his cock until he came, you were pleasantly surprised when his large hands surrounded your waist and hoisted you up off the bed. He wanted to try and keep his cock inside you, but accepted defeat as he managed to situate on the edge of the bed.
He shifted around you and situated himself in between your legs. You laid out, everything below the knees hanging off the edge of his hand-me-down mattress. He stood above you and lowered himself to land a few wet kisses on your breasts, his hard cock pressing into your needy center. 
He jerked you up by the underside of your knees, pressing your thighs into your chest and sinking down into your open pussy, causing a deep groan to emit from both of you.
Here he was, scars and all, standing above you and thrusting into you as if it was the last thing he would ever do, and he looked like an angel to you. 
More thoughtful than you may have initially given him credit for, his thumb finds your clit again and he politely, yet breathlessly asks, “Can you come again for me, pretty girl?”
How could you say no to that. You dumbly nod and throw your head back against the sheets, your hands balled up at your sides as he thrusted into you, grunting and moaning your name. 
“So fucking good Eddie,” you manage to squeak out, “You make me feel so fucking good.”
“Ah fuck, yeah, yes,” his voice nearly jumped an octive, signaling his release. “Where should I-“ he began to ask.
“Inside,” it came out as two syllables in-between breaths, “It’s okay you can come-“
“Fuuuuuck,” a strangled moan and a collapse of his arms, along with the delicious pulse of his cock inside you signaled his release. 
Before you could eve catch your breath, regain consciousness of the situation, he was reeling back and replacing his softening cock with two fingers. He latched his lips to your clit and began to suck in time with his finger’s replication of his cock’s earlier movements. 
“Oh my god,” you were truly taken aback, his face buried in your cunt and setting you back on track to your building orgasm. 
It didn’t take more than a minute and a half of him slurping your mixed releases from your cunt and bullying your g-spot with those damn magic fingers to send you hurdling towards orgasm number two, shaking and crying out his name. 
It wasn’t until your legs were truly shaking and your hand was searching for his forehead to push him away from overstimulation that he finally let up and let up of your pussy with a wet pop and a smug look.
“You come?” He asks again, just as he had in the back of his van. 
You don’t have the energy to respond, only roll your eyes and flip him the bird as you flop back down onto his bedsheets. 
He managed to get you a warm rag and a cold glass of water, stroking your har and asking if you felt alright.
“Feel perfect Eddie,” you say after a long gulp, “you took such good care of me, you always do.”
He stroked your hair and positioned the two of you back comfortably beneath his sheets. “Thank you,” he starts, but you cut him off with a kiss. 
“No, thank you,” you kiss him again, “for trusting me.” The look in your eyes could nearly make him melt. “You’re really something special Eddie, I mean it.”
“Special enough for a fourth date?”
You smack his chest and bury your head into his neck. “I don’t think we have to count dates if I’m your girlfriend now…”
Those dimples you adore perk up on his cheeks, and he bear hugs you, scarred chest and all. 
“What time should I set the alarm for tomorrow?” He asks with a sorrow in his voice. 
“How about never,” you roll over to trample him with another kiss, smothering his body in yours, knowing you’d be luck enough to have many moments like this soon to come. 
A/N: I'm sorry I have long lost the tracking of a taglist (crying emoji) don't want to bother anyone who asked to be added the last time I wrote a pic ten thousand years ago, so I hope this reaches everyone it needs to <3
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roosterforme · 7 months
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Do You Wanna Touch Me? | Rooster x Reader
Summary: You had been working at the bar for six months. And you'd been crushing on Rooster since the first night he handed you his credit card, called you Babydoll, and asked you to start a tab for him. And it only got worse from there, until one night you asked him about more than just his drink order.
Warnings: Fluff, swearing, age gap, and smut
Length: 5800 words
Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader
This was written for my Top Gun Rocktober playlist! Check out my masterlist for more!
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"Oh, my god," you whined softly, drying and polishing the rack of pint glasses in front of you as Rooster Bradshaw came strolling into the bar. "Fuck me," you sighed, barely able to keep your eyes off him as you fumbled one of the glasses.
"Yeah, you'd like that," Lizzy said with a laugh as she cut up some lemons before the Friday evening rush.
You didn't even know you spoke out loud. That's how much of a ridiculous crush you had on that big, sexy man. But he strolled right past you on his way to the pool table, barely even sparing a smile in your direction. 
"I really would," you told her, watching the flex of his bicep as he high fived Hangman. It wasn't like your coworkers didn't know you had a thing for Rooster. You'd been working here for six months, and you'd been crushing on him since the first night he handed you his credit card, called you Babydoll, and asked you to start a tab for him. And it only got worse from there.
He still occasionally called you Babydoll. He never called Lizzy or Jasmine by a pet name. Just you. And you held onto that little glimmer of hope that it meant something. That maybe one day, he'd look at you as more than just one of the bartenders.
"What's wrong with you?" Jas asked, waving a hand in front of your face. But then she looked where you were staring, and she asked no further questions. "Oh. Rooster's here."
"He sure is," you added, forcing yourself to focus on the customer in front of you who looked impatient for a drink. As you finished pouring him some tequila shots, you looked up eagerly, and Rooster met your eyes. It had been a solid week since you'd seen him, and he just always looked so good.
You pushed the shot glasses across the bar and collected payment, trying to stay as cool as you could. Because Rooster was heading your way now in his snug vintage wash jeans and bright tropical shirt. 
"Hey, Babydoll," he rasped, and your whole body clenched with need as your eyes fluttered closed. When you met his gaze again, he was leaning on the bar, closing in on your personal space. 
"Hey, Rooster," you replied, sounding a lot calmer than you felt. When he smirked and looked down at your shirt, your heart pounded even harder. Your name was embroidered on your Hard Deck top, just above your breast. He knew your name, but he always called you Babydoll anyway. So was he just simply staring at your tits?
He cleared his throat and asked, "Get me a beer? Please?" 
"Am I starting a tab?" you asked, reaching for one of the pint glasses you'd just finished cleaning. He responded by humming and sliding his credit card across the bar. He held eye contact with you while you expertly pulled the perfect pint of his preferred beer. The way his lips parted in a soft smile that matched yours, the twitch of his mustache...it all felt like foreplay that had been going on for months.
"Thanks," he muttered when your fingers brushed against his. He winked at you before turning back to the pool table, leaving you with his credit card and a desperate need inside of you.
As you set up his tab, Jasmine ran her hand along your lower back so you wouldn't bump her as she walked behind you. "Why don't you just invite him to join you in the bathroom and fuck him out of your system?" she joked. 
"Because," you sighed, "that would only make me pine harder. Getting a small taste of him would be worse than nothing at all."
"Oof," Lizzy replied. "You're a mess over Bradshaw."
"I wonder how old he is?" Jas asked.
You hummed and shrugged, watching him drink his beer across the room while you shook a vodka martini. "Gotta be at least thirty five."
"Ask him," Lizzy said. "Next time he comes over, ask him how old he is."
Your cheeks were warming up. He was bending at the waist, playing pool, and you were taking way too long to serve this martini. "No. What if he thinks I'm being rude? Or worse...what if he catches on that I like him, and he shuts it all down."
"Fine," Jas said, uncapping some ciders. "Next time Rooster comes up, I'll wait on him."
But that really didn't sit well with you. Rooster always came to you for his drinks, anytime he could. You liked that about him. You liked his attention. Jas wouldn't pour his pints quite as well as you could. You knew so well how much foam to let spill and how close to the top of the glass you could get. You loved pulling those pints of lager for him. And you loved pouring him bourbon when he asked for that instead. You knew which brand and that he liked it neat. You didn't have to ask. He didn't have to tell you.
No, you should always be the one to wait on him. And when he finished his pint and strolled back up to the bar after Phoenix beat him at pool, you stepped in front of Jasmine. "I got it," you said confidently, and Jas walked away chuckling. This time Rooster eased himself down onto an empty stool between two women who looked at him like they'd just won the lottery. But his eyes were on you. 
"Lager or bourbon?" you asked, and you were rewarded with those perfect, white teeth and his deep laughter. 
"You got everyone's regular drinks memorized?" he asked as you reached for his empty glass. But he didn't let you take it. He kept one hand on the glass for a few beats while your fingers met his. 
He was making you feel bold tonight. He was even more gorgeous up close like this, with a few gray hairs at his temples and some laugh lines around his eyes. His eyebrows shot up, and his smile faltered when you said, "No, Rooster. Not everybody's regular drinks. Only the hottest guys. Lager or bourbon?"
He grunted and swallowed hard. "Dealer's choice." Then he finally let you take the empty glass, and it was a good thing, too, because you needed to turn away from him. You took a few extra seconds to reach for the bottle of Wild Turkey. Your nipples were hard, your skin felt like it was on fire, and you were turned on just talking to him.
When you turned back to face him, his gaze was neutral again. You uncapped the bourbon and poured it for him, neat. 
"Thanks," he murmured, moving like he was standing to leave. 
And then your mouth worked before your brain, and you said, "Anytime, Sexy."
You watched him pause halfway out of his seat, his eyes dipping down to watch you nervously lick your lips. If he left for the pool table, you really were going to have to let Jasmine wait on him next time. Embarrassment flooded your veins, leaving you uncomfortable with a sheen of cold sweat on your neck. But he eased himself back down onto the stool and kept his eyes on you. "Alright. Babydoll."
You laughed softly, pulling out some glasses for the woman who wanted two cosmos. Rooster sipped his bourbon and kept his focus on your face and your body. He grunted as you took a shaker in each hand, and as you poured them out at the same time, he asked, "What's your favorite drink?"
He was hyper focused on you now, leaning in just the slightest bit further as you served both pink drinks. "To have or to make?" you asked, taking more orders.
"Both. I want you to tell me both."
You smiled at him, and he matched it right away. "Nothing is more fun to make than an expertly crafted Bloody Mary, but those are best as breakfast cocktails."
He nodded, accepting your answer, and then he asked, "And what do you order when you go out?"
You shrugged. "I don't often get to have someone make my drinks for me, but when I do, I usually order a Manhattan."
"A Manhattan?" he asked, balking at your answer. "How fuckin' old are you, Babydoll? People in their seventies drink those things!"
"I'm twenty three," you told him, laughing so hard you were doubled over. He looked delighted when you were finally able to stand up straight again. Your smile was still bright as you leaned on the bar until you were only two feet from his face and softly asked, "How old are you?"
The song on the jukebox changed as Rooster rubbed his mustache and said, "I'm a lot older than you are." His little self deprecating laugh just made you want to get closer to him. He looked amused by you and also resigned to the fact that he thought his age was something you wouldn't like about him.
"How old?" you asked again, biting your lip. 
His brown eyes found your mouth, and you thought for a moment that he was going to kiss you. Oh god, you wanted him to, so badly. "I'm thirty eight."
You hummed softly as Phoenix came to stand next to him, and you started to get her favorite kind of beer ready. 
"You coming back to the pool table?" she asked Rooster, but he just grunted something about needing to finish his bourbon first. When you handed Phoenix her drink, Rooster told you to put it on his tab, and he looked relieved when she walked away.
"Thirty eight," you said, watching him down the remainder of the drink in his glass. "That's why you're so good at flirting? You've had time to practice?"
He coughed a little bit as he set his empty glass down on the bar top. "Babydoll, I'm fifteen years older than you."
"So?" you asked, pulling another perfect pint for him. "You don't want to flirt with me?"
"Now wait, that's not what I'm saying at all. Just surprised you don't want to flirt with someone your own age."
"I don't like boys my age," you told him fearlessly. "I like men."
"Oh, hell," he groaned, taking a long sip of his fresh beer. "Just look at you. You're gonna get yourself in trouble if you don't find a nice guy."
He looked flustered now. You were making Lieutenant Bradshaw flustered. His cheeks were pink, and he kept sipping his beer, avoiding your gaze. He looked adorable and boyish, and you didn't know quite what to do about this. Or about the fact that talking to him was making you wet. 
"Hmmm," you hummed, and his eyes met yours immediately. "Are you a nice guy?"
"Fuck," he groaned, adjusting himself in his seat. "Sometimes."
"You're always pretty sweet to me," you whispered. "What's it like when you're not a nice guy, Rooster?"
You wanted to touch him for more than a few fleeting seconds. After six months, you thought you were going to. His long, thick fingers were just resting there in front of you. But then Fanboy came to the bar and asked you to close out his tab. And then you had to help Lizzy pour a massive round of shots. And then when Rooster asked you to close out his tab as well, you did it with a pout on your lips. 
As you slid his credit card, the slip he needed to sign, and a pen across the bar, he smiled at you. "Aww, come on. Don't give me that look. You know how it is."
"I don't, actually," you replied, watching him sign the credit card receipt for you. "How is it?"
He looked up and studied your face. "You're too perfect to mess with, Babydoll. Too young. Too pretty to touch."
You chewed on your lip and squeezed your thighs together. You had to know. Your voice was soft and unsure as you asked him, "Do you wanna touch me?"
He didn't meet your eyes again as he scribbled on the receipt and then left it and the pen for you to collect. He stood up from his stool, gave a quick salute to his friends and then headed for the door. 
You moaned helplessly. You blew it. He thought you were just a kid, and you never stood a chance. And now he'd probably never even look at you again. 
But when you picked up the receipt, you read one word written there under his name. YES.
-----------------------------
When you strolled into the bar the next evening, you got right to work. You had no idea if Rooster would show up, and you weren't sure if you even wanted to see him or not. You'd torn off the bottom of his credit card slip and taken it home with you. That little scrap of paper on which he'd admitted he wanted to touch you was hanging on your bedroom mirror. But it was the fact that he was probably never going to touch you, even though he was more than welcome to, that was making you frustrated. 
"What's wrong with you?" Lizzy asked as she arrived a minute later. "You look hot."
You glanced down at your Hard Deck top, denim skirt and beat up sneakers. "I look the same as I always do," you told her, continuing to dump buckets of ice into the cooler behind the bar. 
"Maybe it's your makeup," she replied. "I think you're hoping Rooster comes in tonight."
You rolled your eyes. "I always hope he's going to be here. He's pretty. I like looking at him."
"I'm not going to dispute that," Lizzy said as she cut up the lemons again tonight. "But I think you actually like him. Not just the way he looks."
You didn't respond, because it didn't matter. You'd keep the flirtation to a minimum the next time you saw him. The last thing you wanted to do was make him think you were desperate. He wanted to touch you? He could go right ahead. But you weren't about to beg him to.
As the bar got crowded, Jasmine showed up as well. The three of you got into a nice rhythm. A lot of the aviators were back again tonight, and you were serving them drink after drink. And then it was like you knew he was there before you saw him. After you handed a couple their drinks, your eyes automatically shifted toward the doorway, finding it filled with Rooster's big body. And he was already looking at you. 
"You want me to wait on him?" Lizzy asked you softly as Rooster approached the bar. 
But you just shook your head and reached for two different glasses, holding them up as he took a seat in front of you. When he pointed to the pint glass, he said, "Lager. Please."
"Sure," you replied, setting the smaller glass aside and pulling a perfect pint of beer for him. "Start a tab?"
"Nah, I'm not staying long tonight," he told you as you placed the beer in front of him without meeting his gaze. "Just wanted to see you and get one drink."
"Mmkay," you said. But when you pulled your hand away, he reached for it. 
Stunned, you let him take your hand in his large one, and then he asked, "Does this mean you're done flirting with the old man now? You got it all out of your system yesterday?" His eyes were guarded, cautious, and he held onto your hand, expecting an answer. 
You shook your head slowly, running your fingertips along his rough calluses. "I was just getting started."
A crooked little smile danced across his lips. "I am too old for you, Babydoll. And it's a shame."
Your heart jumped in your chest, hand still tangled up with his on the bar top. You could hear Lizzy and Jasmine working extra hard to take all the orders, trying to give you a moment here. So you smiled back. "You think you're old. So what? You expect me to call you Daddy?"
"Shit," he grunted, squirming a bit in his seat but keeping your hand in his.
When he didn't respond right away, you leaned a little closer, one eyebrow raised. "I asked you a question."
His eyes were wide, and that little grin was back. "I could be a... Daddy. Maybe for the right girl."
You pulled your hand free of his and planted both palms on the bar top and leaned closer to him. "And just how is a girl supposed to know if she's the right one?"
But his cheeks were tinged with pink once again, and he looked flustered. It was flattering, such an ego boost. You were the one who made him like this. But he wasn't responding now, and you needed to help Jas pour some chardonnay for the impatient ladies at the end of the bar. You sighed and said, "Well, I work until eleven. So just think on it."
But he wouldn't let you leave. Rooster reached for your hand again, but this time he was the one leaning closer. "The right girl would be one that I can't seem to stay away from. You said you work until eleven?"
"Yes," you replied softly, his large hand completely covering yours on the bar top.
"Right. Then ask me again if I want to start a tab."
You pressed your lips together, trying not to giggle. "Would you like to start a tab, Rooster?"
"You're damn right I would, Babydoll. I can't get enough of you. Think I'll just hang here until eleven. If that's okay with you."
This time you did giggle. "Yeah. That's okay with me." As he pulled his wallet out and handed you his credit card, you asked, "Bourbon or lager?"
"Make it a Manhattan."
"I've been told these drinks are for people in their seventies," you said with a straight face as you reached for the vermouth, secretly pleased he wanted your favorite. "You're only thirty eight."
"Listen," he said, watching you fix his drink. "You said you don't like boys your own age. And maybe I'm a little older than you, but all the parts are still in working order."
You felt giddy. When you set the glass down in front of him, you couldn't help but ask, "Does that mean you'll let me take you for a test drive?" 
You had to work to keep an innocent expression on your face as Bradley's blush deepened. He took a sip of his Manhattan, licked his lips and said, "I don't do test drives anymore."
"Oh," you said with a little pout. "You don't?"
"No," he replied a bit cautiously, taking another sip of his cocktail. "I'm getting too old for that. I like at least a little bit of commitment from the driver. Don't wanna feel like I'll get dinged up."
You shivered at his words, mesmerized by his voice and his demeanor as he looked down into his glass. Could you do more than a test drive? Of course you'd thought about it. You were crushing so hard, you'd imagined what it would be like if he was your boyfriend. But you'd barely even let yourself hope for a one night stand. Even that much seemed too good to be true.
"Oh," you said again in a softer tone. When he glanced up, his dark eyes were no longer guarded, and he was looking at you warily. Without giving it much thought, you pushed up onto the bar and leaned until he met you halfway in a kiss. It was just the softest brush of your lips against his. But the sound he made and the prickle of his mustache on your skin left you wide eyed and out of breath as you eased yourself back down. "No. You're too handsome to get all dinged up. I'm a great driver."
"Yeah," he said with a little laugh. "I can already tell. And that's what I was afraid of last night. There's just something about you, isn't there?"
"You have a thing for me?" you asked him, gripping the edge of the bar top. "Because I definitely have a thing for you." You had stopped breathing now, and your heart was pounding in your ears. 
With a little grin, he said, "Yeah, I do, Babydoll."
"Well, what are we going to do about it, Daddy?" you asked with another giggle as Jasmine thrust a bottle of prosecco into your hands. 
"We're going to go out my Bronco the minute your shift is over. We'll figure it out there." 
You nearly dropped the bottle when you met his eyes. "A quickie?" you asked softly, but you were sure he heard you.
"No," he groaned, running his big palm along his mouth and shaking his head at you. Then he finished the rest of his Manhattan in one gulp and pushed the glass your way. "Nothing about this is gonna be quick. I'd like to take my time, especially with someone as perfect as you."
You sounded like a feral animal, thighs clenched together and gripping the bottle of prosecco with both hands. 
"Shit," Rooster grunted. "You're making it hard to just sit here, Babydoll."
"Hard?" you asked with a grin. 
"You'll find out."
After another embarrassing noise, you had to excuse yourself to the other end of the bar for a few minutes. Jesus, you needed to keep your job, after all. But his eyes followed you everywhere. Any time you looked his way, he was transfixed on you. When you pulled a pint of lager and set it down for him, he whispered, "Thanks, Babydoll," sending shivers along your skin again. 
"Anything else you want, Rooster?" you asked him sweetly. 
His gaze dipped down to your chest before returning to your face. "Nothing I'm allowed to have inside the bar."
"At least not when we're open to the public, sir," you replied, giving him a little salute that had him reaching for you across the bar. But you managed to skirt away from his grasp with another laugh. 
"You coming back over here?" he asked between sips of his beer. "I didn't get a chance to ask you if you'll make me a Bloody Mary for breakfast tomorrow morning."
"Breakfast?"
"Yeah. Breakfast," he confirmed with a smile. "At my place?"
You pressed your lips together to keep from screaming. "So since this isn't a test drive, what are my options, exactly? Am I looking at a lease? A financing package?"
"I'm sure you'll know what you want to do when the time comes. And I'm going to need you to stop saying package right now."
"Just go," Jasmine told you suddenly. "It's after ten, and you're useless. You and he have had hours of foreplay already. Go."
"Are you sure?" you asked, already reaching for your bag and Rooster's credit card.
"Yes," Lizzy confirmed. Then she looked at Rooster who was already standing up and told him, "Pay your tab next week. And get her out of here."
"My pleasure," he rasped, and you practically ran for the opening in the bar, ducking underneath the counter. And when you stood up again, he was right there. He was so tall and broad, and with a coy smile, you slipped his credit card into the pocket of his jeans. When your fingers trailed closer to his zipper, he grabbed your wrist gently. 
"Just checking for myself to make sure all the parts are working," you mused as he raised your hand up to his lips and kissed your knuckles gently. In the middle of the crowded bar. Then he wrapped your fingers around the back of his neck, and you pulled him down for a kiss. 
He kept it pretty clean as he promised, "Wait until we get outside."
"Now," you demanded, pulling him along behind you by his shirt collar. As soon as the cool, night air met your hot skin, he had your bare thighs in his hands, and your back was pressed against the side of the building. "Oh my god," you gasped. Your body was pinned between the siding and Rooster, and the rough denim of his jeans was rubbing you deliciously through your underwear. 
"I told you I'm not going to rush," he whispered, pressing into you as you held onto his shoulders. He teased you with that delicious mustache and his lips on your neck before he kissed your ear and said, "Now, I'm gonna need verbal confirmation, Babydoll."
"Yes!" you nearly shouted. "Everything!"
He chuckled next to your ear and asked, "You wanna fuck in my Bronco?"
"Yes," you moaned so loudly, you were sure Jasmine and Lizzy could hear you. 
"I don't have any condoms with me," he said, looking you in the eye. "Do we need them?"
"No, I'm clean, and I take the pill," you said, leaning in to kiss his lips. He tasted you, running the tip of his tongue along yours before pulling his lips away. 
You whined for him, but he was undeterred. "I need you to tell me that you'll come home with me and make me that Bloody Mary in the morning while I make you breakfast."
He already wanted you to sleep over with him. He wanted to make you breakfast. He didn't want to have a one night stand. He was waiting for an answer. "You'll have to let me know if you want it traditional or extra spicy."
"Fuck," he grunted before his lips came crashing against yours. His big hands held your thighs wide as he rolled his hips gently against you. 
"Rooster," you moaned against his lips as he let you gently slide down his body until your feet hit the ground. 
"Please call me Bradley," he whispered as he wrapped his hand around your waist and quickly guided you across the dark parking lot. 
When you saw the Bronco, you ran the last little bit hand in hand. His laughter mixed with yours as he unlocked the door. "Come on, Bradley," you sang, looking up at him over your shoulder before climbing up onto the driver's seat on your hands and knees. "Do you wanna touch me?"
"Babydoll," he moaned, keeping you still as he guided your skirt up over your butt and around your waist. You cried out as he kissed the backs of your thighs. He slipped his fingers inside the thin strips of lace fabric that made up your thong, and you couldn't ever remember being this turned on before. 
"Bradley!" you gasped loudly when his lips and tongue met the globe of your rear end. He slid the lace to one side and kissed your slit from behind until you were panting. You might cum. You might actually have an orgasm on your hands and knees with your ass in his face. Boys your own age couldn't get you like this no matter what they did.
He gently swatted at you before palming your ass and saying, "Get in the backseat."
Oh yes. He was about to show you what else his age and experience had to offer, and you were already shaking with need. "Yes, sir," you whispered, and you heard him mutter a string of obscenities as you scrambled onto the backseat. As he slid the driver's seat forward and climbed in the back, you carefully pulled your underwear down your thighs. He helped you and then pressed the lace to his nose before pulling you onto his lap. 
"I've thought about this so many times when I touched myself," you blurted out as he teased your clit with his thumb. "Bronco sex," you whined, head tipped back, enjoying the perfect pressure he applied to your body. "Bronco sex with Bradley Bradshaw."
"Forgive me, Babydoll," he whispered, voice harsh. "But last night was the first time I jerked off thinking about you. Too afraid to go there before that, thinking there was no way in hell you'd want me."
"I want you," you swore, meeting his eyes in the near darkness. If anyone else was out in the parking lot, you couldn't see them. And you didn't care if they could see you, because he was slipping one thick finger inside you. "Wanted you for so long. Months and months."
"Jesus, you're tight," he groaned, sliding your snug top up to your chest as you rode his hand. "And you skipped a bra tonight like a good girl."
"Bradley," you gasped as he cupped your bare breast in his big hand. He lazily swirled his thumb around your nipple before bending to take you into his mouth. "Oh my god!" 
Your orgasm was already building. You had only been in the backseat with him for a few minutes, and he was still fully clothed. But now you were riding two fingers, and his thumb was delicious against your clit. As he licked and sucked on your breast, you started to clench. 
"Damn," he muttered against your body. "Already?"
You just nodded before guiding his lips up to yours, and you came as you moaned loudly against his mouth. "Bradley." You raked your fingers up into his hair and kissed him. He was hard through his jeans, and when he withdrew his fingers, you felt them trail up your body. 
"You're so pretty," he whispered, pulling your top over your head. "You'll look even better in my bed."
You wanted him to fuck you here first, but you'd be lying if you said you hadn't already thought about his place and what he might make you for breakfast. And as you sat straddled his hips in nothing but your skirt up around your waist and your sneakers on your feet, you felt adored by him. He was kissing a trail down between your breasts and rubbing his thumbs along your thighs. 
"Bradley," you whined, rubbing your pussy against his jeans, already feeling a little wrung out. "Please."
The street light at the corner reflected in his eyes, letting you know he was looking at your face as he raised his hips and unzipped his jeans. And a few seconds later, they were down around his knees along with his underwear. Your lips met his as you felt the velvety soft tip of his cock resting against your core. As you kissed him and tugged on his hair, he throbbed for you. And suddenly you weren't in such a hurry either. 
"Let me make you feel good," he whispered, and as you slid down around him, Bradley guided you with his hands on your hips. "You're so wet, my god."
"You always make me wet, even when you just talk to me at the bar," you admitted softly, your voice shaking as he kept pushing deeper inside you. "Oh. You're huge."
"Am I hurting you?" he asked, pausing where he was. But you just shook your head and rolled your hips slowly until he was completely inside you. He kissed you softly as you gasped and got used to him. "I don't wanna hurt this sweet pussy," he whispered next to your ear. "Perfect."
And then he brushed his knuckles along your clit and leaned his head back, watching as you rode him. "Take it off," you gasped, and he let you push his shirt down his arms and pull his tank over his head. You explored his broad chest with your hands and his shoulders with your lips. He was warm and rough and oh so sweet. His chest hairs brushed against your nipples as he guided your hips with his hands.
"Bradley?"
"Hmm?" 
You wrapped your hands around his neck and kissed his lips. "Fuck. So good." He felt delicious, his big hands everywhere, sliding up to span your back and keep you close. He fucked you in long, fluid movements that just got faster and faster. His pubes were coarse against your clit. His little grunts and words of praise kept you going as you started squeezing around his cock.
"Don't stop, Babydoll," he coaxed as you got closer. When his lips met your sweat slick chest again, and he pulled your nipple between his teeth, you came for him.
"Oh!" 
As your legs shook and your fingers went loose in his hair, Bradley fucked up into you until you were screaming his name. 
"Good girl," he grunted, and suddenly you were on your back along the seat with your legs spread wide. He fucked you with long, hard strokes that made your tits bounce and prolonged your orgasm. His lips were everywhere, and you were surrounded by his voice in the dark, holding onto his biceps as he came inside you.
You scrambled to get your mouth on his as you both caught your breath together, and as your heartbeat started to return to normal, you pressed a dozen soft kisses to his lips, one after the next. "Will you take me home?"
His hands stilled on your thigh and your neck. "Yeah," he said with a tone of sadness. "I can drop you off at home."
When he started pulling away without so much as another kiss, you reached for him, keeping him firmly inside you. "No, no. Take me home with you, Bradley."
"My place?" His voice was still soft, but it sounded hopeful now.
"Of course," you reassured him, and his kisses returned. "I'll spend the whole morning tomorrow making you Bloody Marys with little heart shaped garnishes."
He smiled against your lips before he said, "I'd like that, Babydoll."
---------------------------
The Hard Deck was pretty busy the following evening, and you were so physically exhausted from your night with Bradley, you could barely keep up. The Sunday crowd was keeping you on your toes, and Jasmine wouldn't stop asking you how your night ended. 
"Did you go home with him? You did. I can tell," she said as you just shrugged at all of her questions. "Are you going to see him again? Come on! Tell me!"
When you saw movement on the other side of the bar top, Jasmine's eyes went wide. "Hey, babydoll." The deep rumble of his voice was so distinct, you didn't need to look at him to know it was Bradley. He had whispered dirty, sweet things in your ears all night and all morning. You knew the sound of his voice by heart now.
When your eyes met his, you reached for a pint glass and filled it with his favorite beer. "Hey, Bradley. Wanna start a tab?" you asked with a soft smile.
You giggled as he reached for your hand and tugged you closer. Then he leaned across the bar and kissed you as his nose brushed against yours. "For you? Always. And don't close the tab until your shift ends."
---------------------------
No more test drives. I'm sure she's already considering her options to make him hers permanently. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls and @mak-32. Also, the pretty banner was made by Mak!
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kquil · 2 months
Text
REMUS LUPIN | 13:53 — ONE NEGRONI
SUM : to help pay the bills and your tuition fee, you get a new job at an elite club where the tips are incredibly generous. you’ve met a majority of the clientele already but they don’t match the stranger who ordered a simple negroni
TAGS. : mafia au ; modern au ; muggle au ; mobster remus ; mafia boss remus ; bartender reader ; reader is a hard working sweetheart that must be protected! ; catching remus’ eye ; remus lowkey wishes he can be the one to do the protecting ; and maybe more ; for now, he’s a low key stalker ; but sexy… ; stalking is bad, don’t do it! ; this is just fiction! ; but hey! remus owns an elite club! wooooo! ; i don’t know how to feel about my interpretation of the marauders as mafia men/mobsters ; it’s growing on me… ; also, im casting peter pettigrew as Dane DeHan in this!
LENGTH : 1.5k
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It wasn’t as if you were new to the job; you had previously worked some years as a bar tender for a pretty well-established club, it paid well and managed to help pay for your rent and utility bills for most of your higher education years. However, all the built up stress and sleepless nights finally caught up to you. And you found yourself repeating a year, meaning that you needed to pay for your own tuition this year atop all the other monthly bills and necessities you keep up with. Perhaps it was the universe telling you that you needed to stop and change the direction of your life — you needed to choose an easier path, a doable path. But you were stubborn and also quite the optimist. So you kept at it, determined to finish what you started and earn your degree. 
Yes, it was a let down but you were still breathing. Life just gets hard sometimes. 
Thankfully, your past experience and phenomenal recommendation letter from your previous manager earned you another bar tending job at a very elite club, where tips were more than generous, considering the clientele composed primarily of the privileged class, some with multiple businesses under their belts, some who were phenomenal investors and some living off their parents’ money. You didn’t care to look too much into it, you were there to work and you were going to work hard and honestly. 
The patrons surprisingly had very similar tastes and so, you fond yourself making the same types of drinks repeatedly. It made the job a lot easier and you were able to focus more on your delivery and interaction with customers, leading to more tips. Times were rough after having to accept defeat with your studies and repeating a year with your own funding but things were looking up. If you keep at it, you’ll make it out alive. 
Your only complaint was the dress code. Make up was advised with a bold red lip but must be kept simple. You felt like a showgirl of some kind, squeezed into a high collar, white dress that came down to your mid thigh and with a low-cut, open back. The sleeves aren’t as long as you would like but, at least, you were permitted to use black kitten heel court shoe pumps as opposed to stilettos — your only saving grace, along with the higher salary and generous tips. 
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“Looks like we have a newbie working the bar,” Sirius points out, drawing all attention to your lively figure as you served drinks with a sweet smile and airy voice. A hum of curiosity vibrates through Remus’ chest and up to his lips at the sight of you, “certainly easy on the eyes, huh?” the tattooed, right-hand comments again as he looks towards the head of the table where Remus holds up his glass of Negroni. 
“Very… innocent— a sweet, pretty, little thing,” James comments on Remus’ other side, which Peter grunts at in agreement as he takes a sip of his whiskey-sour. 
“Looks like she doesn’t belong,” Peter nods before smirking and letting out a light laugh. The domino effect had James and Sirius laughing too as Remus smirks behind his glass before proceeding to down the rest of his drink. 
“Exactly your type, eh? Moony?” 
Sirius’ teasing comment is ignored. Instead, Remus calls for there server and orders another drink with an additional request that only confirms his smirking friend’s disregarded statement, “Have the new bartender personally deliver my drink for me as well,”
There was no higher authority that could dismiss the club owner’s personal request. 
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It was a strange request but you steeled your nerves and asked your fellow bartender to minister your unattended station while you made quick work on the order. It wasn’t unusual to receive requests like this from an isolated table that had privacy curtains for convenience. However, it was usually for drinks that you could make a show out of like a Holy Water cocktail, a Phoenix cocktail and even a Dragon’s Blood cocktail — a performance that you liked partaking in for the flammable aspect. But this was a Negroni. A cocktail of equal parts gin, saccharine vermouth and bitter Italian Campari. It’s a very egalitarian drink that was enjoyed by everyone, men and women alike, simple but elegant and definitely didn’t require a performance. Despite the odd summons, you were eager to fulfil your curiosity for who the client may be. 
With a professional smile, you place refined mix in the middle of your circular tray with it’s classic orange garnish and set off to the table. The standby server, who made the order, saw your approach and quickly announced your arrival through the small front opening, momentarily disappearing into the shadow of the curtains. He reappears a moment later and pulls the heavy drapes fully apart, to reveal the guests from beneath the, once, opaque shadows. 
To say that you were stunned was an understatement. 
It was pure luck that you didn’t stutter in your stride and spill the cocktail prematurely. At the table was seated four men, all dressed in suits and ties that were in various states of disorder. Among their collection of suits, you could spot Armani and Tom Ford, however, you were sure that their unconventional styles were not the way those suits were intended to be worn. 
One man with long, midnight-black hair and paper-pale skin had an array of mismatching tattoos littering both arms, revealed to you by his lack of a suit jacket and rolled-up sleeves. Another wore cute circular glasses and a cheeky grin with a suit jacket but no button up shirt and his chiseled upper body on full display. The last was a dirty blonde with piercing eyes and a deceivingly boyish smile. He had his ankle propped up on his opposite knee and several buttons undone where a tie should have been fastened over, his sleeves also rolled up as his suit jacket lay beside him.
It was the man at the head of the table, however, who stole your attention. If you had to guess who ordered such a simple but elegant drink, it would have to be him. He had his suit jacket draped over his broad shoulders and also had several of his top buttons undone, revealing some faded scars marked across his toned chest. His neat brunette hair and kind brown eyes gave him a deceivingly gentle appearance but his close company revealed a duplicity that caught and tensed your nerves.
You ignored the creeping goosebumps that prickled your skin, down from your toes all the way up to your ears. 
Just do your job…
“Gentlemen,” you addressed kindly with a slight tilt of your head, which they acknowledged with their own hums of acknowledgement, their eyes lighting up in subtle surprise at your actions, “I have an order for a Negroni,” you raise your tray with the drink and scan the four for some indication as to who the order belonged to. 
“That would be for me,” just as you suspected, it was the brunette with the kindest eyes but also the most ominous air. His voice is a deep and smooth lullaby, patient with it’s seduction on your senses. It was a trap that you resisted but are so hopelessly tempted to fall into, “Thank you, sweetheart,” he meets your eyes as you lower the drink into his large, outstretched hand. You notice how his knuckles and fingers are littered with scars also, some fresh, some faded with time and some hidden behind luxurious rings. Nevertheless…
He’s beautiful 
She’s precious 
“Not a problem,” you reassure with a soft voice, “have a good evening,” with your circular tray pressed against your side, you offer him an innocent smile and dismiss the butterflies in your stomach urging you to linger, “gentlemen,” you acknowledge the remaining three once more before offering another sweet smile. Turning on your heel, you leave the group and ignore the stares drilling holes into the back of your head.
She doesn’t know… 
Once you were out of earshot, Remus turns to his closest friends and most trusted colleagues. They all share a look, one that conveys a unanimous thought. It isn’t long before their agreement manifests into knowing smiles and a ring of laughter shared between them.
“Don’t get greedy now, Moony,” Peter chimes in as Sirius throws his head back with a barking laugh. 
“That’s not gonna stop him Wormtail, you know that; she’s a rare one,”  
“So what’s the plan, bossman?” James asks with a raised brow as he brings his drink up to his lips.
Remus doesn’t answer right away, he simply requests that the curtain remain open so he can fix his fond gaze on you for the remainder of the evening. The group already knew what to do and sat at the edge of their seats, awaiting orders eagerly despite their slack shoulders and composed expressions. Only they were able to observe the shift in the air between them; it became charged as soon as you entered their circle and slowly started accelerating, parallel to the climbing affection in Remus’ eyes as he watches you smile at customers while making their drinks. 
He takes a singular sip of his Negroni, bitterly sweet with a citrus edge. 
Heaven in a glass. And made by an angel. 
“I want a background check and profile put together immediately,” Remus finally orders, “I want to know everything there is to know about her,”
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A/N : i downloaded some fics and read some over the holidays and there some mafia/mobster aus and i couldn’t help but picture remus as a mob boss, i’m sure im not the only one to ever imagine this but goddamn! why is it so easy to imagine sweet, gentle, responsible remus like that?!
NAVI.
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Cut!!!!!!! Actor Wally x Stagehand GN Reader Part 3
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I made sure to add the rest of the TikTok on this one. Remember it’s by frillsand. Not me. I just like the au
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🎬You sigh looking through the add pages for work. The studio was off today so no one’s knows you have been fired yet. Oh gosh you hope that the puppets will be ok when they find out you are gone. You search through all the adds and each job said you have to have experience in the field to be hired. You did not . Groaning , you finally find a job as a coffee maker at a cafe. No experience needed . Learning on the job. You circle it and decide to go call the number to see if they will hire you.
Days later
🍎Wally walks into work sipping on his drink seeing his friends upset. He’s asks what’s wrong and they say they haven’t seen you all day. He looks shocked and goes to ask the director where you are . He is silent. Wally growls and asks again. Where are you. The director says to not be mad and shows the sheet of paper with all the stage hands names on it to where the signed for (y/n) to be fired. Wally threw the papers from the directors desk. He says. Don’t expect any good scenes today. And that he is telling the others. He goes out and straightens his clothes. Fixing his hair and goes onto acting for now. Letting his friends know at the end of the day what happened.
🎬 You sigh and announce the name for the coffee you just made. You started to get the hang of this but it’s been a bit boring lately. Unlike the sound stage, you only a minimum wage employee dealing with unruly customers. You hope the puppet actors are being treated well. The television in the cafe starts an episode of Welcome Home but the actors don’t really seem like they into it . You look a bit worried. You hoped they were ok. They didn’t seem to have the energy or their smiles reaching their eyes. You sigh and clean the counter.
🍎Wally grumbles heading to a cafe because today they kept messing up his drinks no matter what he said. He was seriously about to wring their necks if you were not found and hired again. Entering the cafe, he had on a disguise. Plain bleh clothes, glasses, a hat on his head. He heads to the counter where one of your coworkers takes his order. You hadn’t noticed him and he you. As he sat down thinking of ideas to get you back, your in the back making his drink. You say that you got an apple cinnamon decaf coffee for a Mr. D. He comes up and gets his drink then becomes shocked . “(Y/n)????”
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Cliffhanger for y’all. You got to wait till Saturday now. Lol. Again. Y’all are able to message me and ask questions tomorrow. No requests though. I got to rest. Love y’all
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chosos-mascara · 5 months
Text
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sired
𝙡𝙚𝙫𝙞 𝙖𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙢𝙖𝙣 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧
𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 - levi is just a regular at your coffee shop - until you're bleeding out, with no other option than to see the true beast he is.
𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 - vampire levi x reader, reader is turned, reader is attacked (not by levi), blood, biting, general vampire stuff, make-out, sex, cunnilingus, spit swallowing and swapping
4.5k words, yes i am reusing this photo of him cuz he's pretty
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In this life, blood had run through vein to be taken from others.
Of course, there had been the weight of guilt to burden the shoulder of those who'd drank the life from another, though within the rise of an undead plague, they had began to drink it without regard of memories, pain or pleasure. 
Levi had done the latter; decades spent underground to prey on those in the shadows, brain riddled with disgusting memories of the past.  Erwin had drawn him from this hole and with that, a new life had been birthed. Though, even with a clean slate, ghosts had still remained. 
These hauntings of the past had brought Levi to a simple life, one with routine, and control. An example of this would be his morning tea, always taken from the same shop, with his arrival and departure time as precise as each day would allow. Unfortunately, with a difference in this very schedule, Levi had been six hours late to his local coffee shop, seeing a shift change and new faces. 
You hadn't met the man before you - you were sure of that. Though, when staring into the grey eyes on the other side of the counter, there had been something so hauntingly familiar - or was he just undeniably mesmerising?  There had been an unforgiving and all-encompassing pull toward the stranger; one that had felt both warm and frightening.
"Are you listening?" His voice pulled you from the depths of your daydreams, his face stern and brow furrowed. You cleared your throat, glancing down to your idle finger hovering over the till.  "I'm sorry, sir." An apology had left your lips before a shaking breath, though his abrasive tone would cast your words aside.  "As I said, an earl grey -" He cut himself short with the shake of his head. "And, for the love of God, make sure the water is boiling."
His narrow lips relaxed into a down-turned expression, eyes mulling you over once, and then twice. 
"Did you get that, or do I need to go elsewhere?" 
You blink, lips parting before nodding a response. "Y-yeah." Now trembling, your fingers wrap around a white cup, the other hand moving to grasp a maker pen, though stopping short of the cardboard.  "What's the name?"  "Levi." 
Levi had walked toward the collection counter, one arm crossing over the other, his sight set on your clumsy handwriting and uneasy grip.  Earl grey, boiling water.  You repeated the order to yourself as if a mantra, a tea bag plucked from box, the cup placed beneath the boiler spout. You checked the temperature dial before pouring, allowing the scolding liquid to fill his cup to almost brim, a plastic lid and cardboard sleeve placed over top.
Within a few moments, the tea had been placed on worktop, a pale hand moving to take the drink to palm. 
He didn't thank you before leaving, though with his previous demeanour, you hadn't expected him to.
When Levi had returned days later with the same request, your heart began to beat slightly faster, excitement in vein. The bell had chimed, your eyes moving from the tray of cakes under glass to greet your new customer - and there he'd stood.
As he made his way toward you, you allowed yourself to wonder if he'd returned due to an appreciation of your brew... though with the same hollow stare and frown over lip, you began to assume this shop was more for convenience than a means for enjoyment. 
Just as before, Levi stood with arms crossed and expression cold, and when you'd pushed the cup toward him, he simply turned on heel and left. A sigh escapes you as the weight on your chest suddenly alleviates.
"The weather's nice, isn't it?" 
Your attempt at small talk felt miserable, and with his grey eyes withdrawing from yours to land over countertop, you had mentally slapped yourself. This would be another memory to plague your mind, with another sorry attempt at talking to an attractive customer. 
His brow furrows as he looks to be in thought, before he finally speaks. 
"I don't like the heat." 
Your jaw slackens. For the first time in the past few weeks, the stranger had not just spoken instruction under a condescending tone, but had instead given a genuine answer to a question you had asked. The corner of Levi's mouth quirked upward at your shocked expression.
Locking up had gone well despite a few customers arriving on the minute of closing, with yourself rushing to clean machine and table. Money was counted, lights switched off, and key placed into lock before you would begin your journey home. 
Street lights illuminated your path, your shadow cast beside you as each begrudgingly slow step brings you closer to your destination. Tinny earphones supply you with a soundtrack while your mind replays the images of you jumping into bed after a long day, sheets pulled to shoulder as you would close your eyes to rest. 
The last stretch of road before your home drew closer, the concrete growing a little less clean and evened out when approaching your neighbourhood. A path you had ventured many times throughout both day and night, one you were sure you could navigate through a blindfold. You glance over the patches of grass among grey pavement, a few trees standing only slightly taller than yourself. In summer, they would bloom green leaves with wild flowers at their root, though on winter nights like this one, they would only shield the unknown.
A shadow slouches parallel to your path on the other side of the road, one with a presence you wouldn't recognise on first glance, though wouldn't yet alarm you. Seeing another at this time of night wasn't particularly unusual; a busy town on a Thursday evening had some form of nightlife, although when seeing the figure's odd gait, your feet did move slightly faster. 
There was a hint of apprehension with your movements, though you had ultimately decided on keeping your gaze straight and arriving home with haste. It wouldn't be too much farther now, though when glancing over shoulder to see the emptiness of the other side of the road, dread filled you to core. 
A sudden weight is born over your shoulder, a sharp pain in neck. Although you begin to thrash, a pair of arms hold you still, the sting of what felt to be a bite allows warmth to seep from your body, exhaustion dousing you. 
At some point, you are freed enough to allow you to stumble forward, slumping toward pavement. Your hand flies to the wound on your neck, alarm rushing through you upon the realisation you were losing a lot of blood, fingers slipping around the puncture holes to be coated in crimson. 
A numbness begins to spread through your body, a coldness enveloping you. 
You lay back to the pavement, head turning to side as you try your best to press into the injury in attempts to stop the bleeding, though with your vision turning blurry, you weren't sure how effective your weakening grasp would be. Focusing your altered vision, you can make out two figures before you, one looking to be the same hooded shadow you'd seen across the road, the second having a recognisable silhouette, though you couldn't quite put your finger on where you'd seen that coat before, and the black slacks, perfectly tailored to meet ankle -
You had blinked only once, you'd felt sure of that. But, it looked as if minutes had passed before you, the two figures now separated, one left to only a heap on the floor. There was a presence beside you, and with racing heart, you turned to meet their view. 
The stranger looks to be Levi, your crush from the shop, and over the ringing of your ears, it'd sounded a lot like him, too. Just as you'd fallen to unconsciousness, you could've sworn his eyes had changed from grey to red, two canines elongated to look much like the fangs of a vampire.
Heavy lids flutter between that of dream and reality as you stir, harsh pavement feeling much softer than you had remembered. Though as you came to, memory foam supporting your body, you were quick to realise that the warmth engulfing your body had not been that of cement floor, but a bed that hadn't felt much like your own.
With the cloud over your eyes fading, you set your sights on the plain ceiling above, with a slow drift down to the thick sheets draped over your person. Your scent had been the second to last sense to return - the smell of cedarwood and pine. 
Your home had been many things, but none of these attributes had felt at all familiar. Not a spec of dust in sight, nor blemish... The only thing that had been certain was your confusion at the current situation, and paired with the jumbled events of the night prior, you had been left to wonder how you had ended up in such room.
And finally, you are graced with the sensation of pain. 
Your neck throbbed, a tingling feeling to flow into vein, and perhaps the beginnings of a fever. There was a reluctance in your movements as your hand had made way to the wound, a withdrawal from the spot much before you'd come to cup it. Would the skin be mauled and tattered? 
Memories flash before you - thick blood pooling over your neck, the sensation of all life leaving your body. You brace yourself as your fingers finally fly to the injury, though you are left to feel dissatisfied by the bandage covering the skin; a barrier to your true condition. Previous events are farthest from vivid, though in the midst of searching your mind, you find a fragment of certainty - the stranger from the coffee shop. Black hair left to fall over brow, concerned grey eyes turning to resemble that of beast with pointed fangs. 
The wound throbbed as you remembered now, that taste of iron within your own mouth. How had that come to be?
As you sit upright, the room spins. Despite this, you allow a single leg to drop to the floor, followed shortly by the other, your weakened arms pushing from mattress to start your investigation. This home's walls had acted as your crutch as you'd moved to leave the bedroom, soon making it through the door, fingers still grazing plaster as you willingly make your way into the unknown. 
The corridor is been clean, walls plain in colour with a few paintings mounted proudly. They look to be expensive, though you don't marvel, instead moving closer to an explanation. 
"You're up." 
The words jolt you to core, eyes widening in both shock and fear as you turn to look over your shoulder, Levi standing a mere few feet from your own trembling body. One glance over his lips cause your throat to constrict, a shallow gasp pushes from chest as you felt to lose your balance, falling down onto the floor. 
You remember now, the fear you'd felt with a figure's teeth far into your throat, and how it had felt to have your very life drained from your soul.  You saw how Levi had torn your attacker from your being, only to seat himself beside you as you'd felt close to taking your last few breaths - how sporadic they'd been. 
He'd taken his own wrist to his mouth, a redness over lips as he'd pulled the appendage away only to force his mouth to yours, a red ambrosia forced over your tongue to douse your throat in burning liquid. You'd screamed against him, you'd thrashed and cried, though within only moments your eyes had felt heavy, the poison suddenly lulling you into security.
Levi despises the look you give him now, the horror and pain twisted in your face. It had been a look he'd seen few times before, though hadn't had to endure in a long while. He hadn't missed the fear he'd caused others.
"I won't hurt you." His arm raises as he takes a step toward your frightened body, voice timid. His hand reaches yours, ice cold skin wrapping over you to offer aid. Calming yourself, you stand.
"You can leave if you want." Your neck thrums as you stare at him, and if not for his sincere expression, you would have tested this offer. He squeezes gently over your fingers, mouth ajar. He knows you remember what he is, and what he'd done. You need an explanation.
"But... shit." Levi's eyes leave yours as he exhales. "There's something you need to know." You raise a brow, chest tightening. "What is it?" Anxiety courses through you as you retract your hand from his, moving it over your bandaged throat. 
"The thing that bit you," There's a waver in his voice, and a change in tone. "He took a lot of blood, and you were close to dying." You nod apprehensively. "I had to feed you my own, but it's been a while so I didn't realise..." His eyes close. "You would have died, if I didn't-" 
"I'm one of you?" Levi shifts uncomfortably before you, head tipping forward. 
"Not just that - tch." He's unable to find another way to put it, but searches his mind in desperation for an answer. The situation pains him in many ways, yet the worst factor had to be the intimacy. Levi had managed to find his way around alone until now, and with this, everything may change. 
"We - our kind... We can create bonds with others. One that can link two souls as one, or at least, sire two souls together. It means you can feel another person's presence at all times." At last, he raises his gaze from the floor, looking into your eyes. "You're now tethered to me." 
The news sinks in slowly, butterflies within your stomach as you sense the connection he speaks of. There had been some hesitance too, but this had stemmed from the limited understanding of what this label would entail, and what this existence would involve. As you stared at him, you grew used to this sensation - the feeling of his soul. It felt cold and somewhat indistinct, but when you focused your mind to it, it was there. 
"I feel different." The phrase resembled more of a whisper than a clear statement, and Levi had shared this uneasiness within himself, too. It hadn't just been this attachment, but your senses had felt heightened, sounds felt louder and colours felt brighter. As you peered over his face, drifting toward his neck, you could sense where his vein had been most open, where you want so desperately to sink your teeth. 
"I do, too." Levi searches your eyes to find an answer he wasn't sure he'd find, with a step toward you. "I can feel your very being." As he edges closer, his hand outstretched, his fingers brush over your hair, finally skimming over your cheek. 
You stare into him, and for a moment you feel yourself lean forward too, but it's as if reality takes its brittle hold over his heart, and he pulls away.  "You need to eat." The statement weighs on you, and as he strides toward another room, you feel your body ache for his touch. 
You aren't sure whether or not to follow him when he disappears, so you instead await his return, or further instruction. He reemerges not long after, a glass in hand. Only when he's closer do you notice the thickness of the glass, and the distinct red. It had been blood. 
You take a step back, breath in your throat as he pushes the glass toward you. Although you try to fight, he places a hand to the back of your head, rendering you unable to move. The glass rim is forced to your lips, the blood pouring thickly to your tongue, and you have no other choice but to swallow. 
It's bitter, and runs like honey down your throat, thick, and heavy. Despite your mental apprehension, your body reacts, gulping back the fluid with heavy eyes. When it's finished, you feel awfully satisfied. 
"Was it... human?" Although you hadn't wanted to truly know, there was a need to ask. Relief seeped through you when he shook his head, sighing.  "We source animal blood. It gets you through the day, but the hunger isn't satiated for long. You will feel a pull toward humans - you just have to fight the urge." 
"What about other beings like us?" 
Levi stirs, his expression souring. "It wouldn't quench thirst unless they had drank from a human. It's more of a... sexual act than one of hunger." 
The skin of your chest feels hot as you watch his lips form the words, and images of intimacy with Levi plague your mind. You remember the distinctness of the blood he had fed to you fresh from wrist - the twang, and the warmth. 
Moments pass by quickly as you move toward him, body acting much faster than the constraints of your mind. Imagery of his blood pooling over your tongue had flashed before your eyes as your lips met with the thick of his neck, face pulled into the crook and elongated teeth brushing the flesh. 
Levi could have stopped you, your frame much weaker than his, but he'd held back to allow you a taste. He knew the hunger too well, and paired with the guilt he'd felt for turning you, he would allow you to take more than you should.
But, you pull back sooner than he'd anticipated, skin stained crimson with his blood. He couldn't stop himself from connecting himself with you, not when you'd worn his life so beautifully over your lips.
This kiss wasn't much like the last, with your half conscious state and his frantic attempts at saving you, it hadn't felt much of a meaningful moment. Now, here with you, his body connecting with your own and the taste of his own livelihood on your lips, Levi felt freed. Freed of this lonely existence, and free from the sorrow path he'd aligned himself upon. 
His lips were cold, yet soft, slipping between your own to grow closer to you. With the initial movements there had been modesty and restraint, yet as you tasted more of him, passion had ignited. 
Levi presses his tongue to yours, hand snaking to hold the back of your head and tilt you to reach deeper limits. He swiped himself over you, roaming your mouth to try his blood mingling with your taste. 
As Levi found himself losing control against you, he held on tighter and kissed with more force and roughness - fangs clashing over yours when they find their way to scrape your bottom lip. The sensation pulls a timid hum from your chest and Levi groans in response, hardness pressing uncomfortably against his trouser as your own blood trickles into his mouth. 
At some point, you end up against a wall, Levi leaning himself against you with need, unhinged rocks of hip to find friction against your clothed body. Pulling back breathlessly, his hand remains upon your cheek.  "I can't control myself around you." His voice is smooth against your ear, lips grazing the skin of your cheek.  "You don't have to." Your words are quiet but he hears them clearer than day, humming against you. 
He takes a step back to regain composure, and you are left to look to him with doe eyes, a tightness in your chest with burning desire. Silently, Levi takes your hand, leading you back into the room you had awoken in not too long ago, stopping beside the bed. His hand runs from yours to trail over your arm, stopping at your shoulder. 
"At least allow me to take you within a bed - I would have fucked you against that wall if you'd have let me." 
Heat prickles your body at his words, though cool air soon meets warmth as he undresses you, discarding your clothes with his own over the floor before you're on the mattress beneath him. 
Levi found it difficult to restrain himself from marking your skin, instead dragging teeth over neck, or flicking tongue to kiss flesh. Your fingers laced within his hair, gently tugging him back to your lips, kissing him with fervour. Saliva glides from your tongue to his, but he drinks it back as if depraved, intoxicated within your taste. You could feel his frenzied state worsening as he licks and nips over you, a clear need to have you in more ways than one. Blood had been a vampire's hunger, both in ways of food and passion, and you had wanted to play with fire.
"You can..." Your confidence fizzles quickly on tongue as you meet his eye, a new wave of anxiety washing over your body. Red irises stare back at you, though in sensing your unease, they slowly fade back to grey. "You can drink from me." The permission you grant to him is one rooted in edge, your muscles tensing when awaiting his reply. 
A puff of air leaves his nose in what feels to be amusement.  "You don't know what you're offering." There's a seriousness in his voice, led by his own reluctance.  "I know you were thinking about it." A stillness warms the room as the statement leaves you.
He shakes his head, leaning forward to kiss you. This time, the movements are languid, a slow-moving pace to instead take time in roaming the mouth of the other. As fluid had been swapped between each tongue, it grows thicker, and a moan catches within your throat. 
Fingertips had breached the hem of your underwear at a point in time you can't quite pin, but you permit the tugging of fabric to drag past your knee, exposing yourself to the cursed being before you. His gaze drops to the bareness before him, a stripe over folds with his fingers. Levi allows his lips to hover over your flesh before he finally lowers himself between thigh, palms spreading you wider to make room for his face. He delves forward, tongue meeting with hardened bud to swirl circles over you.
His name passes your lips, back arching, and Levi rolls his hips over the comforter for some form of relief. As his tongue flicks over you, you are left to whine beneath his touch, hand entrapping your mouth in an attempt to muffle the mews spewing from you. Fingertips brushed your entrance, ring and middle circling the hole before finally teasing in, and you writhe in his sheets. When you roll yourself over his tongue he groans, fingers curving. 
"Fuck, don't stop." Panting, you beg his mercy, feeling close to falling over the edge. He scissors his fingers slightly, stretching you as he moves them in and out, and with the way his tongue is moving you're unable to restrain from the high you begin to feel. He adds a third, and you scream out in relief, stuttering hips as you come undone beneath him. 
When you come down, he's already on his knees with his cock free, pushing the head against your throbbing clit.  "Ever since I saw you in that shitty shop, I've pictured you beneath me."  His head is rubbing against your slit to gather the juices left, and a shaky breath leaves your lips. Levi places his fingers on your chin to tilt your mouth open, watching your face contort in confusion. 
He spits between your parted lips before closing your lips, edging himself into you while looking within your eye.  "Swallow." The command was impossible to defy, so you do as he requests, watching as his lips quirk into a smirk.
Levi forces his length forward, thickness finally nestled within your walls. He rocks himself gently at first, though soon looses himself within you as your chest rises and falls at rapid pace, body welcoming his every inch. Your gaze drops to his fangs, finger reaching toward them in curiosity, allowing your skin to be pierced by the needle like ends. Blood rushes to the small puncture, only a pinprick, though Levi was quick to respond, his tongue darting from lip to taste the crimson offering.
With one taste, he craved more. After the sire bond, your blood had tasted uniquely different, reflecting more of his own. He's unable to stop himself from biting into your wrist, puncturing vein and wrapping his mouth around the source. He groans deeply, eyes rolling upward as he ruts his hips much harsher than he'd done before, allowing himself to indulge within your taste. 
When he removes himself from your skin, a single droplet rolls from wrist to elbow - but Levi cannot allow the smallest amount of your nectar to waste, his tongue darting along the length to leave not a stain over your arm.
His cock twitches inside you as your head tilts back in pleasure, legs tightening around him. He can feel himself grow closer to release, though has one last offering to you. 
Levi brings his finger to fang, piercing the skin in a similar fashion to your prior display, placing the digit straight to your lip. He smears his blood over your lips, and you too mimic his actions from before, eyes locking with his own as you wrap your lips around his finger, sucking before the pop of your lips releases him.
You pull his face to yours, pushing the mixture of blood and saliva to his mouth. He groans in reply, much deeper than before, thrusts growing messy as he allows your tongue to dance with his. Levi's breaths were sporadic as he came within you, pushing himself as far as he could, squeezing over your flesh as his body ached.
The veil over his eye had began to lift as he laid himself beside you, brain no longer clouded - though he still felt an unusual lull of safety within your presence. He pinned it to the sire bond, soothing him into trusting your soul as it had linked with his own. 
If his heart had still beat, he was sure it would feel differently while in your presence, and for the first time in decades, he allows himself to wonder what life would be like if he was still human. 
"Earlier, when you told me I could leave," The silence was broken with our voice, still hoarse. "I didn't want to." There was a small dip in your words as you fought with your own understanding of the situation. "Why? Why do I feel this way toward you when you're still a stranger?" 
He exhales, staring up at the ceiling. "It's the bond." His words won't offer much insight as he barely understands it himself, though he feels himself needing to comfort you. "I brought you back here to rest, but only when you'd awoken had I realised what had happened." 
"How will this work?" Your words are gentle, but the question hangs stagnant in the air.
"I don't know, this is a first for me."
a/n: for some reason, after a break in writing, staying in present tense felt really hard?? please excuse me if i messed up, i feel like this is so inconsistent
731 notes · View notes
redcoralpot · 5 months
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Tougher Than Nails - Mike Schmidt X M!Reader
Warnings/Details: NSFW content, implied substance abuse, alcohol, cowboy!reader, hankie/cowboy hat code.
Summary: Mike goes to a bar downtown in hopes of getting his mind off of court, but instead finds something much healthier.
A/N: Everyone should thank my boyfriend for this idea; he's always the one that reminds me that I am technically a 'cowboy'. He saves a horse very often.
Word Count: 1.8K
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Bars weren’t really Mike’s thing. Any alcohol he’s ever had tasted like crap, and becoming an alcoholic would just be another check on Aunt Jane’s list to prove to the court that he wasn’t suitable for custody. Hell, he swore her perfume was still clinging onto his nose hairs, and all he wanted to do was escape her. Escape reality, too. Mike remembered when his father used to do just that after Garret disappeared, drowning himself in the bitter liquid at night, his speech slurred. That’s why he was here, at a bar in downtown Afton, while Maxine stayed with Abby. He was desperate.
The building was crowded, delightful chatter and jazz music filling the air. Lights were strung along the wooden walls, narrowly dodging the black and white photos hanging by themselves. More customers squeezed in behind him; Mike frantically searched for any open spot in the room. Hallelujah– a single stool was left vacant near the serving counter, and Mike shuffled into it, shoulders tense. The bartender seemed to notice his presence, as she leaned towards the man, still shaking another person’s drink. 
“You’re a new face,” she rattled, “may I see your license?”
Mike fumbled with his wallet, sliding the card for her to see, “Uh, sure.”
“Right, you’re all clear; would you like to open a tab?”
A man cut in before he could answer, and for the first time, Mike got a good look at the person sitting beside him, “Just add whatever he orders to mine, Molly.” 
She shrugged, the key hanging from her left pocket jingling, “Easier for me.”
You chuckled, the brim of your hat covering your eyes. It was decorated with embroidery and leather, complimenting your purple button up shirt, though that was partially hidden by a black vest. Two hankies hung out of your back, left pocket, similar to Molly’s keychain. One was rust colored, but the other was a complimentary gray; Mike thought it was an interesting stylistic choice. 
“I’ll just have a beer, thanks.”
As the bartender turned, scribbling in a notebook, you inquired, “So, what’s a fine boy like you doing ‘round these parts?”
Mike grabbed the foaming beer that was placed in front of him, “I live nearby.”
“That’s not the only reason, is it?”
He hesitated to answer, instead choosing to take a long sip of the beverage. It burned down his throat, the flavor making his lips curl and his head a little more dizzy. Somehow, it loosened his will, and he found his lips moving without his permission. Your energy was just hypnotizing; he felt himself being pulled in.
“Needed a break from stress,” Mike admitted, picking at the glass’ label.
You cocked your head to the side, your hat tipping upward, “Just ‘cause you’re in a hole, doesn’t mean you gotta keep digging. Alcohol isn’t the cure to what you’re feelin’.”
“What am I supposed to do? Not even my medicine works anymore.”
“I go here for stress relief too,” you assured, downing a shot, “but not necessarily for the drinks.”
Your hand hovered over the small of his back, looking at him for consent. When he didn’t move away, you settled your fingers there, feeling a shiver run through Mike’s body. Some of the previous tension released from his shoulders, and he almost leaned back in relief. Many of the customers in this bar were paired with the same sex, unlike most of the movies he’d seen that included the subject. So, he supposed it wouldn’t look too weird if he did.
You elaborated, “People can be cruel, can’t they, sweetheart? Comin’ to a place like this, where everyone’s like me in some way or another, is a damn good bonus.”
“Like you?”
“Y’know,” you gestured to your handkerchiefs, “queer and such.”
He paused, “Ah.”
“You didn’t know this was a boy bar?”
Mike replied, “I kinda just looked up the closest bar to my house.”
“Good to know.” Your hand fell away from his back.
He almost chased it. Mike liked the feeling, the weight of your fingers pressing into such an intimate spot. However, he wasn’t tipsy enough for that, and controlled himself. He watched as you spoke to Molly, the lady’s eyes flicking towards him and back, and you slipped her the money needed to cover the tab. You tipped your hat towards Mike, a respectful way to put distance between you, before disappearing into the suffocating crowd. Molly side eyed him, sweeping away his bottle, before leaving as well. Mike swallowed, pulling loose skin from his bottom lip with his teeth. It was now, or never– perhaps alcohol wasn’t the only way, after all. You were right. 
Mike could still see the very top of your hat swerving above the crowd, and he trailed after it to the best of his ability. A random girl almost elbowed him in the face, and he was sure his shins would be bruised after tonight. Your shadow was reflecting in the glass door, growing fainter and fainter as you walked further away, your hips swaying. Mike pushed it open, the vision dissolving, and cold air stung his cheeks. The moon reflected off of car hoods, the only way he was able to see where he was running. His hand reached out and grabbed your arm, as you flinched.
Mike’s ears were red, probably from the alcohol, and you stared at him, “What’re you doing?”
“I don’t know,” was the only answer you got before your collar was jerked forward.
Your lips crashed violently with his; your teeth clicking as he struggled to pull you closer. Mike was still fisting your shirt as you brought your hands to cup his jaw and the back of his neck, trying to gentle the kiss. 
You mumbled against his mouth, “Better not be some experiment of yours, pretty boy.”
“Nope,” he whispered, the aftertaste of whiskey on his tongue.
His back hit the side of your car, and his hands moved from your collar to swinging his arms around your neck. Your knee found its way in between Mike’s thighs, pressing against his crotch, and his groan was swallowed by your lips. Mike whined when you trailed down, aiming instead for his neck. Dark marks and bites soon decorated the pale flesh, his blood dripping a contrasting splash of color. 
Tugging on his earlobe, you challenged, “Gonna come back to my place?”
Mike doubted he ever agreed to something so quickly.
The drive was long, too long in his opinion. Though, it was most likely only fifteen minutes, at most. Mike didn’t even have to walk up the driveway to your cabin; his legs were locked around your hips as you carried him through the door and up the stairs. He ground his groin against you, searching for any possible friction. You tossed him onto your bed, unbuckling your belt, holding it taut. The man in front of you wiggled back and spread his legs to make room for you. You snickered at how willing Mike was, considering his hesitation when you first met.
You regularly kept lube on the bedside table, just to be prepared for when you brought men home from the bar. However, this one was different in a way you had trouble putting into words, other than positive. His thighs shook as you massaged the liquid into his hole, a hand covering his mouth to prevent you from hearing his noises. Ah, now that wouldn’t do, would it?
In response, you tugged his hand off of his mouth, “Lemme hear you.”
Such pretty sounds from a pretty mouth, it was truly a shame. When Mike immediately went back to covering them up, you slid your fingers out of him, instead reaching for your abandoned belt. His eyes trailed after your hands as they bound his wrists together in front of him, almost akin to handcuffs. Mike couldn’t see much of your expression after your head dipped down, only the shit-eating grin playing on your lips. Of course, that was before you took your hat off by the crown and placed it firmly on his head, though it was a tad too big for him.
“Why don’t you keep that safe for me, sweetheart?”
For a second, Mike was confused. Keep it safe? Just what were you planning on doing? He felt a grip on his waist, right before his world spun around him, and the positions were practically reversed. The guard was now sitting on top of you, or more so your crotch, his thighs caging in your hips. Mike’s hair was disheveled and the light on the ceiling created a sort of halo around him, and fuck, did you think he was pretty. Only a few select people had ever gotten to wear your hat, and you could confidently say that he was the most beautiful in it.
You unbuttoned your jeans, letting your cock slip through the opening, “You ready?”
“I’ve never done this before.”
You had a grip on his waist again, slowly guiding him down. You didn’t thrust, didn’t force him to go fast, and allowed him his proper time to adjust, “How’s that feelin’?”
“G-good,” he shuddered, precum leaking from his tip, “think ‘m ready.”
“You haven’t seen the brunt of it yet, boy!” You grunt, thrusting the rest of you inside, brushing against Mike’s prostate. 
The man on top of you moaned, and the sound was so uncharacteristically loud that even he seemed surprised by it. Mike leaned down, resting his tied fists on your chest in order to keep his balance. His sweat dampened your collarbones, his drool smearing on your neck, and the pathetic excuse of a guard tried leaving kisses over the areas he could reach. You soon found a rhythm to your thrusts; groans were punched out of your throat on their own.
Mike could feel heat rushing through his brain, bringing tears that stuck to his eyelashes, covering any thoughts or hesitance he may have had before. That wasn’t enough for it– it spread like wildfire down his body, down to where your fingers were leaving bruises, and down to his red, leaking dick. Something deep was brewing inside of him, nothing he’s felt since his hormonal teenage years. Hell, he didn’t even have time to process it when you kissed his cheek, whispering in his ear that he’s such a needy slut; it exploded.
When he finally came to, he could feel his thighs twitching and your heaving, sticky abs below him. His eyelids felt heavy, and all he wanted to do was stay there with you. You were rubbing circles into his back, attempting to pull out, but a grumble from Mike made you stop. In fact, you were saying things, but it sounded muffled and far away. He took great comfort in your voice, no matter what you were talking about. It was getting farther and farther away, yet still managed to follow him into his dreams. For the first time since the incident with Garret, he did not have a nightmare. 
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Taglist: @cannabrisano @kai_beanz @fandomz-brainrot @slimemakermas
1K notes · View notes
hockeybabe · 5 months
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Shoot Your Shot | M. Knies
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Pairings: Matthew Knies x f!reader
Summary: Matthew has had a crush on you and just can’t refuse you.
Warnings: slight smut, Matthew can’t resist his crush, fingering, swearing, dirty talk, praising, finger sucking?
Word count: 1.5k
Note: ngl after I saw this gif, I knew I had to write smth for it. Also I went to a leaf game!!!! I GOT TO SEE CAPTAIN QUINN!
“Just come to the game.” You heard for the third time this day. You worked at a local coffee shop that wasn’t far from Scotiabank Arena, where the Leafs played. Your most regular customer, Matthew Knies, was always asking you to come to his game. You were a hockey fan but never went to games, thanks to your boss.
“That’s really nice, Matt, but I’m working.” You said, cupping the lid of a drink. Matthew groaned, leaning his arms against the counter, and walked away to find a booth. You called the name on the receipt, handing the person their drink. “Sally, I’m on break.” You told your co-worker as you put your apron up on the hook.
“You can’t be mad at me.” You said, walking up to the booth and taking a seat right across from him, folding your hands over the other. “I’m not.” He grumbled, not looking at you. You rolled your eyes. “Look at me.” You ordered him, and he did so reluctantly. “I’ll be watching from there.” You pointed at the TV that was displayed in the corner of the shop.
“It’s not the same, Y/N. I’ve wanted you to go forever. Just ask your boss.” He begs. You knew Matthew’s name had popularity, and your boss would never believe you if he weren’t there in person. "Look, I try all the time. It’s not worth it.” You said getting frustrated and walked away to start your shift again.
Matthew always had a soft spot for you and couldn’t stand to see you upset, especially at him. What he didn’t tell you was that he already talked to your boss and got you a ticket to the game right at the glass. But now he was scared you wouldn’t show when he went for pre-skate, and it would crush him.
Matthew looked down at the watch on his wrist, noticing he had to make his way to the rink. “I’ll see you y/n.” He said leaving money along with the ticket to the game. You watched him leave as a soft sigh left your lips. Liking Matthew wasn’t something you wanted, but you couldn’t help it. You knew he liked you, but being with a hockey player isn’t the easiest thing to do.
You had seen some hockey players girlfriends get attacked on Instagram for being in love, but you couldn’t deny the honest attraction you had for Matthew. He was everything you ever wanted in a guy. You walked over to the booth he was at and picked up his cup, noticing the money along with a strip of paper with the leafs logo on it.
You put the cash and paper in your apron pocket before putting the mug in the dish area. You walked over to Sally and leaned against the counter, noticing Matthew had left you a ticket to tonight’s game against Vancouver. “What’s that, y/n/n?” Sally asked. You lifted the ticket up and showed her. “Someone’s got a crush.” You heard it from behind.
You turned around and saw your boss with her arms crossed. You sucked in a breath and said, "It doesn’t matter. I’ve got work.” You said it in a low voice, not wanting to piss your boss off. “Y/n, go to the game. I already talked to the boy and the rest of his team. I’ll tell you they’re persistent.” Your mouth fell slightly at her words. “They were here?” You asked. “Oh yeah, all of them. All because that one rookie likes you.”
You couldn’t help but smile. “You are going, right?” Your boss asked, walking closer. “I’m mean, yeah, but who’s going to run-" “It’ll be closed for the night.” Your boss cut you off. Another thing your boss shocked you with was that she never closed the cafe unless something was wrong in her life. Whatever the team said to her, it must’ve changed her.
“Well, um, I got to go then.” You said untying your apron and grabbing your personal belongings. “Oh, you almost forgot this.” Your boss said handing you a jersey with the name Knies stitched on the back along with his number. “Now go.” Sally said pushing you to the door. You laughed at them, quickly placed the jersey over your clothes, and headed to the rink.
“Miss y/l/n?” Someone said to you. “Yeah,” you answered. “Please come with me. Mr. Knies asked for me to take you to your spot.” Your brows furrowed in confusion as you followed him. You were walked all the way to a room with a TV with the game on, a bar, couches, and women.
“Y/n, right?” You were greeted by a blonde. You nodded slowly. “Steph, Mitch’s wife.” Your eyes widened in realization. You were in a room with the players girlfriends and wives. “It’s nice to meet you.” You shook her hand as she led you to the balcony to watch the game.
The game was already in motion, and Vancouver had a good offensive game. The Leafs were in the Vancouver zone, and there it was. A Knies goal, you couldn’t help but smile as Matthew pointed up to where you were. “He’s gotta good eye.” Steph says as the others cheer. "Yeah, he does.” Another says. “Aryne.” The woman says. “Matthew lives with me and John.” She says.
You smiled at the woman and continued to watch the game and talk to the other girls. The Leafs ended up winning 5-2. “You’re coming.” Steph said, licking her arm through yours as you made your way to the den and waited for the players.
You felt slightly overwhelmed by the number of people who knew who you were and even by the players coming out and introducing themselves. After John, you watched Matthew stroll out. You felt yourself smiling as your arms crossed over your chest. “Player of the game?” You cocked a brow at his Leafs belt. “Gotta keep it up.” He responded pulling you into a hug.
“We’ll talk about this.” You said this as he pulled you to the parking garage, where his car was. You sat in the passenger seat watching Matthew drive to your apartment, and it was something. You knew he was sneaking glances at you with the number of times he clenched his hands on the wheel, turning his knuckles white as you clenched your thighs together.
You get to your apartment, and you watch Matthew contain himself, shuffling his hands in his pockets and letting out deep sighs. Opening the door, you pull Matthew’s arm toward your bedroom. At the edge of the bed, Matthew turned you around and crashed his lips against yours. Matthew pushed you onto the bed, looming over you.
“Hi beautiful.” He said trailing his finger along your collarbone. You felt a blush rise on your cheeks. “I like your jersey.” He said it with a casual smirk. “I think I like it too.” You responded biting your lip slightly. The tension floated around you two for a while before you grabbed the collar of his shirt and teased him, thinking you would kiss him, but instead you kissed the corner of his mouth.
Matthew bunched up your jersey before kissing you. His hands trailed to your tits as he pinched your nipples and massaged your boobs. You moaned into his mouth, giving his tongue access. You both fought for dominance, with him eventually winning. Matthew trailed kisses to your neck, finding the sweet spot, while he slowly peeled your top layers off and unclasped your bra.
Feeling antsy, you moved your hands down Matthew’s body, putting your semi-cold hands under his shirt and feeling his body. “Fuck.” He hissed into your ear, feeling the coolness of your hands. You whimpered as Matthew grinded into your core. “Off.” You moaned as he kissed down the valley of your breasts to your pant line.
Matthew sat up on his knees, peeling off his shirt, while you admired from below, biting your lip. You started to peel off the rest of your clothes with the help of Matthew until you were both completely bare. Matthew trailed kisses along your things as his finger traced your folds. Your back arched at his touch, and he used his other hand to force your hips down.
“Such a pretty girl.” He mumbled, thrusting one finger in as you moaned. Matthew continued to thrust his finger while using his thumb to play with your clit. “More.” You begged in a muffled voice. Matthew instantly responded, adding a second finger and increasing his pace. You thrashed in your position, using your hands to grip the sheets. “That’s it princess. Let go. Come for me.” You let out a whimper as you fell apart on his fingers.
Matthew trailed his fingers up your body to your lips as you sucked the juices off his fingers. “Jesus baby. You’re so hot.” He smiled while lifting you up, allowing you to straddle him. “You’re hotter.” You said smiling back before kissing him.
737 notes · View notes
mochatsin · 6 months
Text
WHEN MC GETS CATCALLED
Being a very extraordinary human, you’re bound to draw attention to yourself without meaning to. That includes the attention of unruly demons who can’t seem to take their eyes off you. One of them eventually crosses the line by calling you names and saying inappropriate things about you, but luckily one of the demon brother’s overheard and was there to help you.
Some scenarios have MC overhearing this or it happens behind their back. Even though the words aren’t explicitly said, please exercise caution if these things make you uncomfortable! Also has some violent themes with some of our favorite protective demons.
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Lucifer
Lucifer was on his way to meet you at this restaurant because he wanted to treat you to dinner as thanks for accompanying him with one of his errands that Diavolo has sent him on. With your help, it significantly lessened the headaches and workloads he has to deal with on a daily basis.
You’ve done a lot around the house, so it’s only fair that he would take you somewhere more high end right? You’ve already frequented some of the other restaurants with Beel, so Lucifer wants to take you to somewhere more high class. He wants you to feel special tonight, and mostly to lower the chances of his brothers barging in and ruining his dinner plans.
He was waiting by the table he reserved when he saw you walk in the entrance. Given the venue, Asmo decided to make sure you look your best to surprise Lucifer because he wants you to really capture everyone’s attention because you deserve to be the star of the night.
Well it did work because to Lucifer, you look absolutely stunning. He should’ve taken you out to these sorts of places more often if it meant he’ll see you like this. If only the constant house repairs and bills his younger brothers make him pay didn’t get in the way. 
Though his admiration is cut off when he notices other demons looking at you with this predatory look in their eye, as if you were the main course walking into this restaurant. He’s holding onto anything to keep himself in line.
The last straw was when he heard the things some waiter said about you. To speak about you so lowly is insulting, there’s no way for Lucifer to sit still and act like he didn’t hear all that. The air feels so heavy to breathe in it feels like glass could shatter from the sheer pressure of it, and a deadly aura can be traced towards your reserved table. 
“Do you wish to keep your tongue? Or would you prefer to keep speaking and see where this knife goes?” Lucifer’s gaze is cold and threatening while his grip on the butterknife tightens to the point he’s almost deforming the metal. Even though he’s only talking to the waiter, he’s clearly sending the whole restaurant a message. 
You knew you needed to do some damage control and tried to get Lucifer out of there, coaxing him to calm down before it could get any worse. He decides to listen to you for now, because this whole night was meant to treat you and not stress you. 
“It’s best if we get a change of scenery. There are too many pests in this restaurant, let me take you to a nice place. Somewhere more deserving of your presence.” Lucifer would not want to dine in a restaurant if their food is served by these kinds of waiters. He’d say it’s unprofessional customer service, but you can tell it’s very personal.
He takes you to somewhere fancier and possibly more expensive. Though he’s going a bit out of budget tonight, it’s to make up for those awful words that the waiter said about you. He hopes that you don’t shy away from dressing up so nicely, because he’d want to show to the world why the Avatar of Pride chose you. He’ll treat you like royalty if he has to.
It takes one awful review from Lucifer to have the establishment shut down under the order of the young prince. He doesn’t care what strings he has to pull if it means that your stay in Devildom would be much more comfortable. You should never feel unsafe like that again.
Mammon
Every other week Mammon would make a stop by the casino to try to score some extra grimm. As if his streaks of bad luck won’t be enough to keep him away here, and not even Lucifer’s punishments can put a cease on his bad gambling habits. It’s an itch in his brain that he’s gotta scratch after all! He’s optimistic each time he enters the casino in hopes he’ll score big.
There are a few occasions you would join him if your schedule allows it. Sometimes it’s to keep an eye in case Mammon goes too far with his bets as Lucifer instructed, because he doesn’t want him to come home with more debt than he left with. Though in all honesty, you’re there for the smile your first demon gets whenever he actually wins. 
At some point Mammon believes that you’re his lucky charm when he notices how he’s been scoring more grimm than he expected whenever you’re around. If he finds that your schedule is free, then he’s definitely dragging you along. 
He likes to rub the top of your head sometimes for some extra luck before making a bet. Though he prefers it more if you’re sitting next to him when he does so. He says it’s for luck, but he just wants an excuse to have you by his side.
The demons at the opposite side sees you and begins to make snarky comments accompanied with wolf whistle. The discomfort is evident in your eyes as you instinctively move closer to Mammon, and he’s definitely not having it right now. 
Screw everything, if this asshole is picking a fight then that’s what Mammon will give him. If the demon wants to take hold of what’s his then Mammon will make it very clear to the entire table that you’re not up for grabs no matter how much grimm they’ll put on the table.
“Ya wanna make a bet how many teeth i could make ya cough out in a minute?” Mammon said, flashing a grin far too sinister. Being the second strongest and even the fastest, it doesn’t seem like a wise thing to gamble on so the demons shrunk in their seats.
You like to think that luck is finally on Mammon’s side today when he won the round. Though it’s definitely Mammon’s threatening aura around the table that impaired the everyone’s ability to make a wise decision when placing bets. 
When he walks out with his earnings, his grip on your hand is tighter than usual while he checks his surroundings. He holds you like you’d get snatched away at any moment, and it doesn’t seem like he has any intention of letting you go until you both reach the house. 
“You’re my treasure, but that doesn’t mean I like it when other demons check ya out like that.” Mammon is quite protective of his valuables. You and Goldie are on the top of the list. He’d play it off as acting this way as part of his role of Greed, but it’s clear he’s worried about you. 
Whenever you text Mammon that you’re going to fetch him from the casino, he’s insistent that you either bring one of his brothers with you or wait outside because no way is he going to let other demons look at you like eye candy like that ever again.
Levi
Despite being a bit recluse and shy, Levi is not afraid of the prospect of cosplay when it means that he gets to express his love for his favorite series. He puts in a lot of work into sewing his costumes and making sure it looks perfect for the next upcoming convention.
He’s ecstatic when you agreed to cosplay with him this time, even matching with his favorite character. As soon as he got over the fluster he got from the idea, he’s quick in whipping up clothes for your size and you both spent a lot of time in his room trying to get your outfits right, or going outside to get some more materials. 
The process was fun for Levi when he gets to do these sorts of things with you, and the payoff was worth it when you both finally got to see the end results. Levi is so confident, you two look like an absolute power couple… from the anime, yeah definitely. If Levi tried to say that again he might burst into flames.
You both go to the con and have an absolute blast taking photos together or with other people who are also fans of the series. Levi wants you to enjoy the thrill of cosplaying! But he eventually noticed midway that you’re starting to look uncomfortable. Maybe it’s the clothes? Wearing cosplay for so long can be tiring after all.
He stops when he hears a passerby making comments about you in the outfit, and it’s clear that it’s starting to make you uneasy but there’s no way that Levi is going to let someone ruin this event, not when you were clearly having fun together.
“Those aren’t compliments. They're just straight up offensive! A MOCKERY to fans who dedicate so much time and effort to the things they love!” Levi hisses because this person not only insulted the whole cosplay community, they insulted you of all people. 
You helped Levi get out of his shell and come to his aid whenever things start getting overwhelming for him. Levi doesn't want you to feel that unease, he wants you to feel safe! What if you don’t want to do matching cosplays with him anymore? That’s unacceptable!
Luckily some other people got some security to drag the creep away since there’s already a record of making other cosplayers uncomfortable as well. Levi doesn’t dwell on that though, he grabs you and gently leads you away from the crowd of onlookers. 
He tries to play it cool but if it weren't for the makeup and props on his face, you’d definitely see how red he looks right now. He mumbles something about how he must’ve sounded so stupid back there like what was he thinking… 
“I-i know that some otaku like me can’t be like those heroes i dress up as but… y-you can rely on me too!” Levi managed to say through the stutter, though just saying things like these out loud makes him wish for the ground to swallow him up. 
Levi would buy you something to cheer you up and forget about that experience, anything to bring a smile back on your face. Any merch of the series you like, maybe gamble on some cute gachapons, or just buy some desserts together. He wants you to feel better!
If other fans want to take pictures with you and you start feeling uncomfortable, Levi would do his best to drag you away or reject them for you. It’s taxing work and definitely doing numbers on his social battery, you’ll both be holed up in his room to recover after this whole ordeal. 
He’ll have pictures of both of you in cosplay as his wallpaper at some point, maybe show off some of your best pictures to his brothers. He would ramble on for so long about how you look great in the picture and really embodied the character you were dressing as. If some demon can’t appreciate you back there in the con, then Levi will definitely worship you. 
Satan
Instead of Libraries or Cafes like you both usually go to, Satan wants a nice change of pace this time and brings you to an orchestra. Through his connections, he was able to get both of you two tickets to the best seats in the house.
There’s no special occasion, he just wants to treat you to some of the finer things Devildom has to offer. Though he doesn’t really have the wallet like Lucifer does, he at least has the connections to make up for it so Satan can take you to galleries and things like these.
He was on his way to the venue where you were already waiting for him. But he stops when he hears some demon making revolting remarks about someone he saw at the entrance, only for Satan to realize that person was you when you were the only one by the doors. 
You could practically feel the rage burning through him the moment you two meet, and it looks like he’s hardly containing his wrath. Though Satan promised you a nice night, it would be a shame to waste these expensive tickets by going feral right now so he decides to keep it to himself. 
He keeps you close for the night, giving you the royalty treatment and whispering sweet nothings by your ear during the orchestra. If you ask him what brought up this sort of behavior (not that you’re against it), he’d just smile it off. He’d be honest about it, but not tonight. Satan wouldn’t want you to spend the rest of the play worrying.
“Something just brought down my mood, though it made me realize just how special you are to me. I’d do anything to keep you safe, and make you smile.” He whispers by your ear, wrapping an arm to bring you closer to him as you both listen to the orchestra. 
His eyes narrow as soon as he spots the demon from earlier just a few seats across from you. His pupils dilate, like how a cats’ eyes would when it spots a prey to stalk. 
From time to time his gaze would turn to your side, and if that bastard would ever even look at you for even a millisecond then he’s gripping on the armrest for his dear life because he swears he’s going to throw a punch or even worse. 
But no, Satan can be patient and cunning. He waits until the demon excuses himself to the bathroom, and Satan promptly follows behind. The demon was simply washing his hands and by the time he looks up the mirror, Satan is already looming behind him with a smile that doesn’t seem to match the aura he’s giving off. 
“Let’s be thankful that the orchestra seems to be quite loud for now. It’s a shame I’m going to miss it with my human, but it’ll be perfect to cover up any screams” Satan says with a sinister grin. If those eyes cannot see your true value, then those eyes are not worth keeping. 
Satan comes back to you with a smile on his face, apologizing for taking a bit long in the bathroom before you both enjoy the rest of the show while holding hands. He’ll occasionally place a kiss on the back of your hand, enjoying each reaction he’ll get from you.
The demon’s seat remains empty for the entire night and the bathroom is closed for ‘maintenance’ when you check. 
Asmo
What started as a usual hangout with Asmo quickly turned to a day in the mall. For the demon’s defense, it was the perfect opportunity after he tried to help wash your clothes and realized you’re wearing the same ones every week. 
He will not stand for this when Devildom’s fashion line has so much to offer for you. You’ve been cycling through the same outfits recently, and Asmo wants you to have a new look!
Unlike his usual clothes shopping spree with you where he makes you try a heaping basket of outfits, Asmo wants you to choose whatever you want to wear this time and see what kind of clothes catches your eye.
Clothes tell a lot about a person, so he wants to see your aesthetic properly and know what you personally like. You try on the outfits you like and he’s loving the smile on your face each time. Of course Asmo would have suggestions, but not the kinds that would stray away from your aesthetic but rather improve it.
Asmo was waiting patiently for you in the dressing room when he heard some demons behind him, a few aisles back, talking about how absolutely delicious you looked. Even going as far as thinking of grabbing a bite and just hearing such words is making Asmo’s blood boil. 
He’d stand for it if it were directed at him, but to his human? He will not let some lesser demons talk about you that way. If anything, those demons should be cowering for you because of how stunning you are! 
“My love did not spend so much time trying out clothes that make them happy only for maggots like you to gawk at them that way.” Asmo glares, his eyes having that hypnotic enchanting glow in it. With the demons under his spell, Asmo has so much planned. A whole world of pain was waiting for them until he heard you from the dressing room calling out for him.
Asmo quickly utters a command to make the demons leave, he’ll just have to deal with them later. Maybe later he can ask Satan for a curse to force them to cry and make their tears burn like acid if those demons ever laid their eyes on you like that again. 
He’d have his usual smile plastered on his face as soon as you walk out the dressing room with another outfit you chose, though he sounds much more enthusiastic last time. Asmo is showering you with praises, he’ll find a way to make a compliment that brings a smile to your lips no matter what you wear. There’s no innuendos or any poor attempt at flattery, he sounds genuine this time.
“This isn’t just some sweet talk! I love your smile whenever you wear something you like and feel good about it. You should wear these more often, and maybe after this we can find some accessories to match your style!”
Asmo doesn’t tell you about the things he heard from when you were still in the dressing room, he thinks there’s no need for you to waste time on such things. Though you’ve noticed how he seems to have two lesser demons following him around and carrying all his things for him. Satan just says that they did something to upset Asmo, now they’re practically his slaves until he feels better.
Beel
You often drop by before Beel’s Fangol practice to give him a snack, your own personal way of cheering him on and wishing him good luck. Beel loves your generosity, and eating food that came from you specifically seems to energize him more.
Sometimes he’d spot you watching over him by the bleachers, either by yourself or with Belphie napping on your lap. You’re like his personal cheerleader, and whenever you both lock eyes he can feel his heart making leaps in his chest when you wave at him. 
He’s by the locker room changing out of his sweaty clothes when he overheard one of the demons talking about the exchange student watching over them. Beel could tell from their words that they seemed interested in you, which didn’t leave a good feeling in his gut.
Eventually their words became something much more twisted and vile, saying things that Beel would never associate you with. He’s had enough of sitting by and letting them just think they could talk about you like that and get away with it. 
There’s a loud BANG! And the sound of metal crunching. The demons turned around to see that Beel, out of pure anger, slammed the locker door hard enough that it’s barely hanging on by the wedges. There’s even a large hand print if they looked close enough. 
“If you keep talking that way… our next training sessions are going to be very rough.” There’s a growl as Beel spoke, his gaze making the demons feel so small before he left. He knows they’re supposed to be his teammates, but that doesn't mean anything to him after what they’ve said about you.
You walk up to him in a hurry as soon as you spot him after practice, asking him what was that loud noise you heard from the locker room. Beel blinks at you for a moment before smiling, “my teammate just slipped and hit against the locker. Don’t worry, no one is hurt yet.” 
You tried to ask about the part where he said ‘yet’ but Beel’s roaring stomach made it cue, signaling that it’s time to grab a bite after training. Perhaps it’s best to drop it for now, there are more important matters such as making sure Beel gets something to eat before he throws a fit.
The next few practices, you noticed the aggressive behavior Beel is displaying during Fangol training. You know that it’s just a violent form of Football, but you’ve watched Beel purposely launch the ball onto his teammates faces and tackle them hard against the ground when he gets the chance.
Only Belphie knows the truth of why his twin is acting that way, but he tells you not to think about it too much. “Don’t worry, he’s just letting out some steam” He says, unfazed when he spots his twin hurling himself against his teammate and tackling him to the point he’s sure it could cause a concussion.
Belphie
Belphie may be Sloth incarnate, but there’s no denying that he’s smart when it comes to studies. You see him with high marks in class despite never catching him awake during the lectures. You’d see him sleep with his head next to a book and he wakes up like he knows everything in it’s contents.
You ask for his help with an upcoming report you have for your next class and even though he wanted to tease you about it, he can see that you’re a little nervous about it so he keeps that to himself and agrees to fill in the gaps of your knowledge. 
Belphie originally wanted to just telepathically tell you what to say, that’s an easy way out right? But you told him that it’s cheating and you want to study hard. Belphie playfully rolls his eyes but he does it your way and answers your questions on the topic. He doesn’t overwhelm you with information, but he helps tutor you so that you can have a bit of faith in yourself when you present to the class. 
He put in an effort to stay awake when it was your turn to present and he has this sleepy smile on his face whenever you two made eye contact. You put in a lot of effort in your report, and he feels happy for you when you finish without problems. He’ll congratulate you when he wakes up because he has no energy to listen for the rest of the lecture and sleeps on the desk.
Belphie woke up by the time class had ended and everyone was already preparing for break time. He peeks through his bangs to see that you probably already went ahead to the cafeteria and he was about to follow suit when he overheard a particular conversation between his classmates that were still in the room.
He thought they were talking about your report but it turns out that wasn’t the case. He hears all the disgusting things they were saying about you and it’s taking every bit of self control he has to stay calm, his fingers gripping onto the desk that there’s bound to be claw marks. 
The demons hardly noticed Belphie and talked without a care in the world as they’re about to exit the classroom. Though their bodies started feeling heavy and they were getting sluggish, like reaching the exit is suddenly a taxing thing to do. Eventually their bodies drop, hardly having the energy to move no matter how much they try. 
Belphie is standing above them, looking down on them as if he was staring at two piles of trash on the floor. “They spent so much effort on that report… I'm not going to let lowlifes like you tarnish all that.”
You were about to head back to the classroom with a snack you bought for Belphie as thanks for helping you, until you saw the demon just exit the room and close the door behind him. You tease him for oversleeping again before handing him the Devil Pudding cup you got for him. 
Belphie accepts the treat, and he’d tease you about looking so nervous before your report but he’ll praise you afterwards. “You worked so hard after all. You could’ve taken the easy way out or something, but you didn’t. You should be proud of yourself too…” 
When you two went back to the classrooms, you noticed some empty seats of what was previously occupied by your classmates. Someone told you that they started feeling ‘unwell’ and were sent to the clinic. No one really knows what happened to the demons.
891 notes · View notes
bbyquokka · 3 months
Note
Hyunnie thst type of bf to have a spa day with u when u had a rough day at work and he be like
Getting face masks and wine ready and he be like
"Spill the tea baby, what happened"😭
spa day
FLUFF/SUGGESTIVE THEMES BELOW CUT – MINORS, AGELESS & DEFAULT BLOGS; DNI
cw: gn reader, established relationship, food & alcohol mentioned, it gets suggestive at the end, hehe. words: 1k ~ (1,002)
a/n: soft thought turned slightly hard? mhm, yes, hehe. i dont make the rules, my mind told me to do it! i hope you enjoy! don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. i hope you all enjoy! ‹3
dont repost. dont translate. feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!
“i'm so over today. freaking dumb ass people and their dumb ways of thinking. how can i give you a refund on something you used months ago!?” you mumble to yourself as you throw your bag on the floor and kick your shoes off.
your commotion makes hyunjin jump in his seat. he puts down his paintbrush and wipes his hands on an old tee. he peeks his head out of the studio door, brows furrowed together as he notices how stressed and unamused you look.
“fucking people. i don't get paid enough to deal with the bs.” you continue to grumble. you go to flop down on the sofa but a pair of strong and warm arms pulls you out of your bubble and back down to reality.
“oof!” you grunt as hyunjin pulls you into his chest. he rocks you side to side, stroking your hair softly.
“rough day?”
“you could say that.” you laugh bitterly before melting into hyunjin's chest.
“want to talk about it?”
"yeah, that'd be nice.” you whisper.
“ok. but go take a shower first.”
“trying to say i smell?!” you look up at him. hyunjin thinks for a split second and nods. you scoff and gently slap his chest. “ok ok, finee.”
you push yourself off him and walk to the bathroom. you do your usual shower routine, feeling a hundred times better and more relaxed in your comfy lounge wear.
you open the door to the bathroom and walk to the living area, gasping at how it currently looks.
the coffee table moved to the side to make room for two cushions and a blanket. candles lit up in the room with the tv on low volume. hyunjin dressed in shorts and his robe, his hair up on a half ponytail.
on the coffee table are two glasses of wine, bowls filled with your favourite snacks and treats, two facemasks and other spa inspired items.
hyunjin looks up at you as he pours you a glass before setting the bottle on the table. he gives you a warm grin before walking to you.
“what is this?” you whisper, still in awe.
"thought the best way to help you relax was to have a spa day!”
“you did all this in the time i was in the shower?” hyunjin nods and grins, clearly impressed with his handiwork. “that's impressive.”
“haha, thank you! now come and relax.” he guides you to the cushions. you sit down cross legged as he hands you a glass of wine.
“thank you.” you take the glass and take a big sip of it.
“easy there tiger. at least wait until food arrives.” he laughs
“you ordered food?”
“yeah, your favourite!”
“god i fuckin' love you.”
“i love you too.” hyunjin puts down his glass and grabs a face pack and a headband. he hands you the band and waits until you have finished putting it on.
he opens the pack and gently puts it on your face, soothing it out with his fingers. you hum softly at the refreshing coolness of the pack. you close your eyes slowly and sip your wine as you relax.
“all i need is some cucumbers on my eyes.” you mumble. hyunjin laughs softly before putting a mask on himself, relaxing beside you and sipping his wine.
“so, tell me what happened.”
“ugh. well–” you go on a rant and rave about work, about the customers, managers and bosses. the more you talk, the more annoyed you start to feel. hyunjin simply nods his head and listens to you.
he's good like that. he won't interrupt you in the slightest and just let you go on. once finished, does he soothe you with some kisses and hugs.
halfway through your long rant, the doorbell rings. hyunjin answers the door to the food delivery guy, forgetting about his mask. the delivery guy gives hyunjin a shocked face before laughing when hyunjin explains the situation.
he walks back to you, explaining what just happened. you laugh and make jokes about it, forgetting about your rough day at work and why you were so angsty to begin with.
“thank you, hyun.” he looks at you as he peels off his mask.
“for?”
“for this. i appreciate it greatly.”
"no problem! i hate seeing you distressed so this is the least i can do for you.” you hum softly and take your own mask off.
after eating the food, hyunjin gives your hands a massage and even paints your nails. you do the same, matching the colour he has given you. you both enjoy each others company and enjoy what he has done for you.
you can't believe how lucky you are.
“strip.” you blink at his sudden request before noticing the bottle of massage oil in his hand. you strip yourself of your tee, resting on your stomach with your chin on your hands.
hyunjin straddles you and pours the lotion onto your back. you shiver at the coldness which makes him laugh.
“wasn't expecting a massage, hyun.” you giggle
“it's not a spa session without a massage!”
"mhm, i guess you're right.” you grin before groaning. his thumbs dig into your tense back muscles, fingers working their magic on you.
you squirm underneath him, moaning and groaning. hyunjin swallows thickly as something so innocent is sounding so lewd to him. he feels himself heat up and his groin to feel warm.
“babe.. please, can you keep the moaning to a minimum.” he begs.
"but your fingers feel so good, hyun.” you grunt innocently as he digs into your muscles.
"yn.. please..” he huffs. you ignore him. hyunjin bites his lip hard, his penis twitching several times.
“h-hyunjin.” you moan softly.
“fuck.” you squeal as he turns you on your back suddenly. your eyes widen as you look up at hyunjin. his eyes filled with lust as he licks his lips, ready to devour you.
“you're doing this on purpose yn. you must really enjoy riling me up.”
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sunraies · 1 year
Note
How about the reader being a waitress and spilling Rafes drink all over him accidentally and while she's patting him down with a cloth to clean him up he gets an erection with smut pretty please
Sure! I made Rafe soft, no pun intended. I've only proofread once x
Spilt Drink
Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader
Warnings - MDNI!! +18, slight sub!reader x dom!Rafe, smoking reader, smoking, fingering, P in V, pill mentioned, rushed smut.
As requested above
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It was a disgustingly hot day. Summer in the Outerbanks was always hot, humid and dry. The Cut was always a dull yellow and the roads dust. While Figure Eight was lush and green with the tarmac melting on the roads.
One good thing about working at the Country Club was the air conditioning but the black restaurant uniform code, still made you sweat. That day you decided to wear as little as possible in the form of a little black dress. Still technically in the uniform code but more cooling than the polo shirt and black pants combo you normally wore.
The moment Rafe entered with Topper and Kelce, he had to do a double take on you. You looked so different, he couldn't pin point how as he had seen you in both your work and Pogue attire but in that dress you looked gorgeous.
You groaned internally as you spotted who walked in after finishing cleaning a table. The three of them were always so loud, taking up the plush sofa chairs in the middle as they would most likely be there for the rest of the afternoon. They had clearly been golfing that morning as Rafe's cheeks were a little pink from the sun.
"Hi, what can I get you?" You asked was fake smile and sweet tone as you pulled your notepad and pen from your apron.
"3 beers" Kelce said, not even looking at you.
"And a water" Topper added as Rafe just sneak looks at you.
He hid his smirk with his hand, faking uninterest as he looked you up and down. Subconsciously you pulled the hem of your dress down a little
"Coming right up" you gave them another smile before heading to the bar and placing the order.
"Rafe was totally checking you out" Mags said as she poured the drinks, giving you a wink. The slightly older woman was one of your close friends.
"Oh fuck off" you whispered "He was not"
"Girl, he was. Man was practically giving you the sex eyes"
"Shut up. He was not"
"I mean who wouldn't. You are killer in that dress"
You tugged the hem again before noticing the top would pull down more, giving a lot of cleavage.
"Why didn't you tell me it did this?!" You hissed
She just hummed and continuing with the drinks. "You look good" she shrugged "not that you don't always"
You shook your head and smiled at her before carrying the drinks over. You interrupted them in the middle of laughing about something. As you placed the drinks down, everything was going fine until the condensation on the glass made it slip out of your hand. 
Time seemed to go in slow motion as the glass hit the table, toppling on its side and pouring all of its contents into Rafe's lap. He managed to open his legs the minute the beer hit him, causing most to go on the floor.
"I'm so sorry, sir" In your panic you went into full customer service mode.
You needed this job, and if he went to your boss, you would be out the door. Just your luck to spill a drink in Rafe fucking Cameron's lap.
He tried not to groan as you leant over him, dabbing his lap with napkins from the table. He felt intoxicated by the smell of your shampoo, perfume and sweat. He closed his eyes a moment as he realised he could see down your dress before slightly jumping as you applied pressure to his crotch.
"I got it" He snapped, trying to take the napkins from you but it was too late as you felt it.
Your cheeks burned as you noticed his erection and quickly moved away. "I'll go get you another beer"
You got Mags to get the drink as you hurried out back, claiming you needed a smoke. As you pushed the back door open, your hands fumbled for your cigarettes before popping a smoke in your mouth before realising you forgot your lighter.
"Fuck"
You stood against the wall in the shade, desperately trying not to overthink the whole scene in there. Had he really been looking at you that way and was he really that big, or were you imagining it.
As you were about to head back inside the door opened again and your eyes widened as Rafe walked out. A small part of you was a little scared, although he was never awful to you, he was still a Pogue hating Kook and you had just embarrassed him.
"You need a light?"
You stared at him, that was not the reaction you had been expecting "What?"
"You need a light?"  He pulled out his own cigarette from his pocket and lit it before passing you the lighter
"Your hand's shaking, sweetheart" He pointed out as you took the lighter.
"Just been a hard day" you muttered taking a drag before realising the pun "god, shit, sorry! A long day..."
Your cheeks burned again as you covered your face, deciding to stop talking. You exhaled a shaky breathe as he hummed, leaving the silence between you.  He moved to rest against the wall beside you, his arm touching yours. You didn't dare move until he spoke.
"You don't have any fucking idea, what happened in there, do you?" He sighed, looking over at you.
"I'm honestly so sorry"
You took a few glances at him, noticing him just staring at you before his jaw ticked and he blew out a few smoke rings.
"Why do you keep staring?"  You muttered "because if you are thinking of ways to kill me, stop"
His jaw ticked again before he let out a low chuckle. "I'm staring because you are gorgeous and I'm thinking of ways to fuck you"
You swallowed, glad the wall was holding you up as your knees felt weak. Anyone else talking to you in that way would have been punched but the way his eyes were blown and the effect you knew you had on him. It was causing a whole damn zoo to explode in your stomach.
He smirked, watching your reaction before finishing his smoke, throwing the butt away before you mirrored his actions.
"Would you like that, baby girl?" He asked leaning closer to you as you nodded. "Words, sweetheart"
"Yes" you breathed out
"Yes? What?" His eyes were teasing. You frowned at him a little before he gave you a clue "you know what the word did to me"
"Yes, sir?" You were uncertain before a smile broke out on his face.
"Good" He whispered, his ringed hand cupping your cheek as his thumb ran over your bottom lip.
Your breath hitched in your chest as his ocean eyes locked on yours before he leaned in more. The tip of his nose brushed against yours, before he finally kissed you. He tasted of smoke but you didn't care as his lips were so soft and he knew what he was doing. He gently bit your lip, causing you to gasp and give his tongue entrance.
You felt a warm tingle down your spine as you felt his large hand against your lower back, pulling you towards him. He chuckled against your lips as you wrapped a leg around him.
"Needy, aren't you baby?"  He purred, breaking away to kiss your neck.
You can't help the moan that escape you as he nibbled a sweet spot while his hand glided up your thigh. You knew you had already soaked through your underwear as he continued peppering your neck and jawline in kisses.
A dark laugh left him as his fingers finally glided over your panties. "I've barley touch you and you're already so wet for me, pretty girl"
You whined and his hand slid beneath your panties and he began to rub your clit in slow circles
"We don't have much time, baby"  He whispered "someone could catch us any minute"
"I don't care" you moaned, head resting against the wall "as long as you keep doing that"
"Just this?" He smirked before you gasp as he slided two fingers into you. He knew what he was doing as you began to come undone.
"You look so pretty falling apart for me, baby" He teased.
Soon you were gasping, tightening around his fingers as your legs shook. You whined as he pulled away "Ready?"
"Fuck me, Rafe" you whispered, pulling him in for a kiss. He hesitated before you said "I'm on the pill"
Your eyes widened, seeing how big he actually was. Even feeling it briefly earlier didn't do him justice. You whimpered and whined as he kissed you cheeks, nose and forehead
"I know, baby, I know" He whispered "you can take it, pretty girl. I know you can take it"
He was so gentle until you asked for more. He was just the right amount of rough and soon you both climaxed. His head was buried in your chest while you played with his hair. You both desperately tried to catch your breaths.
You fixed your dress as he pulled away. You both stared at each for a moment before you spoke first.
"I should. I should probably go back inside" you turned to the door.
"Wait!"  He stopped you as he held the door shut. Here would be the part he made you swear to tell no one "Do you want to go on a date? We could hang out? Lunch or Dinner?"
You swallowed and nodded slowly before smiling "sure, I mean I would love too. I have tomorrow off"
The smile that forms on his face, melts your heart before he held the door open for you "I'll pick you up and we'll go to the main land"
There was the catch, you couldn't be seen together in Outerbanks but all the thoughts stopped when he kissed you quick again.
Once back inside, it was like nothing ever happened. Rafe went back to his friends but looked at you every so often as you continued to work. You were so thankful that the back area was walled off and there was no cameras but you were 90% sure Mags knew.
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mapofthesea · 2 years
Text
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poly!maknae line x fem!reader
genre: SMUT. Like SO MUCH of it. They’re all fuckin’. Porn with very little plot tbh
word count: 8.3k
summary: having gone years since your last real relationship and subsequent satisfying fuck, you decide its finally time to put yourself back out there at the club. For some reason, this club is full of sexy men-who all happen to be taken. As soon as you’re about to give up on men for the rest of your life, your night takes an extremely lucky turn. 
warnings: swearing, dom!maknae line x sub!reader, reader experiences some self-doubt, boys are poly and all in love with each other, use of pet names, name calling but y/n is into it, specific smut warnings: unprotected sex (simply don’t do this irl please), oral (male and female receiving), some mxm, face fucking, spit, spanking, praise kink and degradation kink at the same time, maknae line are fucking hung, dacryphilia (but very slight), double penetration, Taehyung loves readers tits, bi!maknae line, cum eating
an: I don’t proofread so if there are typos that’s why. As always, this is mature content so if you are under 18 and/or uncomfortable then please do not go beyond the cut! 
“You should really go catch a dick. Maybe that would make you less of a bitch.” The teenager pops her gum as she leaves, a loud complaint about ‘shitty customer service’ spilling to her friends as soon as she catches their gaze. 
As much as the girl was annoying-demanding a refund for a dress that had clearly been worn-her words did hold a small modicum of truth. How long had it been since you even had a satisfactory hookup? Your last long term relationship fizzled out about 2 years ago, and a few months after that you gave up on the dating scene altogether. There’s no denying the fact that you’re a bit lonely, and a lot horny, and that there’s an easy way to fix those problems if you’re just willing to put in some effort.
So you find yourself at a club for the first time in probably four years, the bass pulsing through the sticky wooden floors. A group of giggling girls pushes past you, forcing your body further into the writhing mass of dancing bodies. Your heels pinched your feet as you walked, but they made your legs look good, so you soldier through the pain to make it to the bar. The prices make you cringe, but you haven’t flirted with anyone in so long you need the liquid courage. You order two drinks, intent on sitting at the bar to get your bearings before going to well, catch a dick. The height of the stool makes you struggle to get into it, extremely out of practice when it comes to balancing in heels. The chair shakes under you as you try to settle into it, finally planting your ass down ungracefully. You puff out a breath, already feeling downtrodden about the night and looking forward to swallowing down the alcohol set in front of you. Just as you gather one of the glasses into your hand, a voice sounds from your side. 
“Excuse me, uhm,” you turn toward the source of the noise and thank the heavens you’re already sitting down. The man speaking to you is tall and built in all the right places, strong shoulders you want to sink your teeth into drawing your eyes upward until you reach his defined jawline, the plump of his pink lips that stretch into a boxed smile. His body is wrapped in a simple black button up with a subtle pattern, leaving only the top button undone to give you a glimpse of smooth skin and a chunky gold chain around his neck. Devastatingly handsome brown eyes peer down at you and you wonder when you got so fucking lucky. He seems to be alone, this perfect man, and he started a conversation with you?
He licks his lips, eyes darting pointedly down to your cleavage-thank god you chose this low cut dress- and then back up to meet your gaze. Sparks of excitement thrum over your body as he leans against the bar beside you. 
“Can I ask you what you’re drinking? It looks quite...delicious.” The deep timbre of his voice burns you from the inside out and you nod dumbly.
“They’re called electric lemonades. They’re definitely among the things I find...delicious.” You hope that you haven’t completely missed the mark in attempting to flirt back. In a different setting you would have cringed at the words, but tonight you were operating only on the desire to get fucked. The man cracks a smile and extends a hand your way. His fingers are long and adorned with rings, and you shudder at the thought of how they would probably feel inside of you. 
“I’m Taehyung,” he adds as you shake his hand. “And thank you for the recommendation...” he looks at you pointedly and you get the hint to provide your name. The feeling of his warm hand makes your voice waver as you answer him. 
“Thank you, Y/N” His hand ghosts up your wrist, giving it a small squeeze and holding on as he grabs the bartenders attention. Your heart is thrumming erratically; trying to decipher what the contact means, if your night was really going to be this easy. He turns back to you, fingers dancing on your delicate skin as you catch a whiff of what must be expensive cologne. Your head fills with lust, abandoning rational thoughts as words bubble out of you. 
“You, I think you’re-” Taehyung smirks at your stuttering, cocking his head to the side as you speak. “I think you’re really hot, and I- do you wanna get out of here?” You blurt, face flaming at the cliche you resorted to in the heat of the moment. Taehyung’s smirk morphs into a full blown smile, pearly white teeth on display. 
“Oh, Y/N. I would love to, but I’m actually-” His eyes slide over your head, gaze locking onto something, someone, behind him. Your heart stops, world crashing  in on you from overhead. 
“Oh god, no, I’m so sorry,” you scramble out of his grip on your wrist, all but leaping off of the stool to get away from him. His handsome face twists in what must be disgust of your desperation. 
“Y/N, wait, you don’t have to-” He speaks after you as you leave, drinks latched between your palms as you hurry away from the bar, desperate to find a new spot to sit and collect your mind. 
As busy as the club seems to be, you find a small booth table squeezed toward the service door that leads into the kitchen. It’s dark and secluded, the leather of the seat smooth and cold against the bare skin of your thighs. Heat still simmers at your core from your encounter, and you down an entire drink in a few gulps, welcoming the burn of vodka and sting of sour lemon juice to wash away the embarrassment of being rejected. Still, there were a lot of people here, and although you doubted you would find another as hot and captivating as Taehyung, you weren’t ready to give up just yet.
“I told you I don’t have time to talk right now!” You jump at the person who seemed to have materialized from thin air sitting at the other end of your booth. His hair is shaggy, pieces hanging around his eyes in a tantalizing fashion, the beginnings of a mullet type style evident by the long cut.  His short sleeved shirt shows off an arm of impressive tattoos you’re desperate to have a closer look at. 
“Holy shit!” You exclaim, hand clasping over your chest as your empty glass clinks against the full one. You don’t think he even heard you, dark eyebrows furrowed as he presses his phone against his ear. His free hand is digging harshly into his thigh, clearly annoyed at whoever was on the other end of the call. 
He glances your way at the outburst, a frown marring his handsome features. Your stomach dives as you process just how handsome this stranger is too. Did all the hot men in the area flock to this club tonight? His eyes don’t leave yours as he finishes up the call with a curt goodbye and you squirm in your seat at the attention. The desire to down your second drink burns in the back of your throat but you suppress it by scratching at the back of your hand. 
“I’m sorry if I scared you,” the man speaks and you catch a glimpse of his shining lip piercing. He extends a veiny, tattoo covered-hand across the table and you catch a glimpse of a delicate sliver chain around his wrist that likely costs more than five months’ worth of your rent. You extend your hand slowly to his own, hoping he can’t feel the way your hands are clamming up. 
“Jungkook.” He states simply, shaking your hand two times before dropping it gently back to the table with a deceptively adorable smile.
“Oh, hi. I’m Y/N. And it’s okay, really. I just didn’t notice you were here when I sat down...” His piercing eyes are still stuck on your form, eyebrows quirked in what now looks more like amusement. Your face flushes at his attention and you're worried that the heat will begin to melt your makeup off unintentionally. “I just, ah, hope that you’re okay. That sounded like an intense call?” 
He grunts, fiddling with the bracelet. “Been on worse calls. And at least this one brought me some good fortune.” For a moment you assume he means whatever business he must be in, but the way he licks his lips tells you a whole different story. You squirm, in utter shock at the way your evening has shaped up. “M-me?” You finally stutter, once again proving why you hadn’t been in the game for a long, long time. 
Jungkook’s eyes scan you, crinkling with a genuine smile that makes your stomach backflip. The hand you shook previously takes your own again, running a gentle line over your palm.  “Yes, you, pretty. Don’t know why you’ve secluded yourself to the furthest booth in the bar, but I won’t complain if it means I get to be the one to entertain you.” He cocks his head in a way that has no right being so attractive, and you feel your insides start to liquify. 
“Oh, thank you. I think you’re pretty too...” you deliberately dance your fingertips over his, hoping the teasing touch does a lot of talking for you. Jungkook’s eyes narrow in on the gesture, glazing over with what you believe is lust. Your heart kicks up in excitement, feeling like you had finally cracked the proverbial code. His grin widens and you feel your heart stutter at the way he suddenly grasps your hand between both of his own. “The things I would do to you, if only...” his face shifts, and you’ve done enough time in customer service to know it’s a look of disappointment. A shard of sadness strikes right through you as you wiggle out of his grip, quickly grasping your drink and downing it ungracefully in an attempt to wipe out the shame in your gut. You vaguely register Jungkook’s voice calling after you, but you power towards the dance floor, hoping to get lost in the press of sweaty bodies. 
Alcohol and embarrassment are an interesting comorbidity, and the ache to get away from the gazes of the two men you had already met persuades you to weave further into the dance floor. You don’t know the lyrics to the song that’s playing but the beat vibrates through the floor and straight into your blood, encouraging you to rock your hips. You’re vaguely aware of the heat of bodies around you as your eyes slip shut, vodka finally doing the job you wanted it to. Something loosens in your chest, a feeling not unlike taking off your bra at the end of a long day. A body presses in close behind your own, a hand skating over your side to rest just above your hip. The two of you rock along to the music and you look down to see the hand on you looks strong and capable. Your heart and pussy lurch at the same time and you dare to spin around as you rock your hips to the music. 
The man attached to the hand had to have just walked off of a runway. His eyes are rimmed in smoky eyeliner, even with his plump bottom lip trapped between his teeth you can see a hint of gloss. His hand tightens on your waist, seemingly pleased with your ogling. You lean closer to his warmth, linking your arms around his neck to pull him down to your height. He takes the bait easily, slotting his head next to your neck and ghosting a hot breath over your skin. A shiver escapes you, exasperated as the music changes and the man makes a point to press his hips forward into your own. An unbidden groan slips from between your lips and you swear you hear him chuckle. 
You move just as boldly as he is, rotating your hips forward pointedly. His hands wander to tease the curve of your hip before resting firmly on your ass at the same time he nips at a spot on your neck. 
“I’m Jimin, by the way,” his voice is devastatingly husky and low right in your ear. It makes you shiver, digging your fingernails into the lean planes of his shoulders.  “Y/N,” You answer back with a push of your hips further into his own, happy that the tight jeans he had on confirmed the bulge you thought you felt against you. A shuddering breath punches out of you and Jimin notices, nudging his nose firmly against the lobe of your ear. 
“What’s a beautiful thing like you doing out here alone?” He husks. 
“Tryin’ not to be. But I keep hitting on taken men, apparently.” Jimin abandons the spot at your neck to peer down at you, pretty eyes narrowed in to your own. Your veins thrum under his attention. There’s something in his stare you can’t explain, a quality so captivating that you don’t have it in you to look away. 
“Well, what a shame for those guys. You’re such a pretty little thing, I can’t imagine turning you down...” he smirks in a way he must know makes your knees weak, hands taking another generous handful of your ass. You pitch forward into his chest, the fabric of what you assumed to be a simple tank top feels silky and cool under your cheek. Jimin’s chest rumbles with a pleased hum, lips ghosting over the sweaty hairs on your forehead. 
“Fuck, baby. Should we get out of here?” 
Your heart jumps at his words and you nod immediately, the desire to hook your legs around his waist and let him carry you out of the club replacing all of your usual concerns. You settle for clutching at the fabric of his shirt as he begins to move the two of you out of the crowd. People part easily for the two of you and before you know it you’re in a much quieter and cooler spot. Your fingers finally unlatch from his shirt and find a place on his jawline instead, hesitating for a second before pulling him down and kissing him. You feel triumphant when he falls into your rhythm, biting playfully at your bottom lip before weaving his tongue inside of your mouth. Desire is burning in your stomach and you squirm against him, desperate to get the fuck out of here and onto doing what you’ve been craving for weeks. 
“Hey, what the hell!” Someone exclaims, obviously in close proximity. You jump, narrowly avoiding biting down on Jimin’s lips as you both turn toward the noise. He keeps you close in his grasp, arms tight over your waist- possessive in a way that makes your stomach clench. 
“Oh, hey guys. This is Y/N.” Jimin grins, nodding his head in a loose gesture towards you. Your stomach knots and flips with anxiety as your drinks threaten to make a reappearance. 
“Y/N, this is Jun-”
“Jungkook and Taehyung. Yeah, I um...” you trail off, wide eyes still in disbelief of the fact that your two failed endeavors are standing before you and seemingly are friends with Jimin. 
Jimin puffs a breath that ruffles your hair. “Wait, is she- she’s the same girl you guys were talking about? And they’re the guys you mentioned earlier?” 
The two other boys nod along with you, and despite the growing feeling of horror in your gut, you can’t help but feel hot under the gaze of all three of them. Jungkook locks his gaze on Jimin’s arms wound around you and his lip curls into a smirk. He moves in closer to your body until you can feel the heat radiating off of him. The tattooed hand you were so enamored with comes to tuck a sweaty strand of hair away from your face. 
“I really wish you would have stuck around when I called after you earlier, babe. Just lucky you found your way to Jimin.” His eyes dart to your lips and your heart pounds out of your chest. Every one of your senses heightens; the feeling of Jimin’s arms around you, the scent of Jungkook’s cologne, the way your vision is swimming with desire. 
“You can kiss him if you want,” Jimin offers, splaying his hand against your waist in encouragement. Your eyes go wide and you hear a throaty laugh- Taehyung- at your stunned expression. 
“Here’s the thing, Y/N. What you didn't let Jungkook and I get to is that we’re dating. Us, and Jimin. His eyes have gone a shade darker than they were at the bar and it makes your pussy clench. “So if you’d like to have all three of us. We’d all certainly like to have you.” 
You swear you forget how to breath as his words land and process, but the way your knees physically weaken is evidence enough of how you’re feeling. 
“Yes! I uh, yes. To all of it. Y-yes. Please.” Taehyung smirks, running his sinful tongue across his lips, and before you know it you’re all moving towards the door. You feel hazy in the best way possible as Taehyung and Jimin go to collect a taxi and Jungkook hangs back with you, attacking your lips with his own. The cold press of his piercing pulls a gasp from your mouth as he devours you in a kiss even nastier than the one you shared with Jimin. You’re more than happy to get lost in it, allowing Jungkook to guide you until you’re at the taxi, squeezing into the back seat with the other two boys. Jungkook settles you on his lap, holding you steady around the waist as the car starts and gets you back to their apartment. 
It’s a race to get up to their unit, and you can barely keep track of who is touching you where as the four of you ride the elevator up several stories. 
The inside of the apartment seems nicely decorated and clean, but you only have time to glimpse the living room before the three men are pulling you into a bedroom. 
“Look so fucking sexy, baby. I thought we’d lost you after you left me at the bar like that...” Taehyung shamelessly eyes your body, hands working underneath the fabric of your dress at your thighs. 
“Can we get you out of this?” Jungkook presses in behind you, pulling your hair to the side and playing with the delicate zipper on your dress.  “Yes, please.” You nod emphatically, head tipping forward to allow Jungkook more room. The gentle skim of his fingers on your back raises goosebumps and makes your nipples perk. 
“Shit.” Taehyung swears loudly when your dress slips down, leaving you bare aside from a simple pair of underwear. His lips immediately attach to your nipple, sucking with a fervor that your ex never came close to. Jungkook’s calloused fingers dip into the waistband of your panties and rub the soft skin at your hip before pulling them down your legs. You can feel your arousal smearing down your thighs with the movement, sure that there’s already a mess between your legs. Before you can open your mouth to defend yourself, Jimin appears, shirt already gone, to claim your lips again. 
Taehyung nips at the sensitive skin of your breast, leaving a mark that will be blooming in purple by the morning. He laves the spot with his tongue, humming against you as he helps himself to the expanse of you. Jimin lets up so you can both heave a breath. His eyes are much darker than they were on the dance floor, and the intensity of his gaze sends a shiver through you. He smirks, laying a possessive hand on top of Taehyung’s head as he continues to leave a path of marks on your torso. 
Your stomach hums with anticipation as you watch the two of them. The simple touch speaks volumes to the closeness of their relationship. Jimin grips your chin with his free hand, tipping your head upwards until you make eye contact. 
“You gonna be good for us?” You’re already nodding, and he lets out a dark chuckle. “Good little slut, letting us do whatever we want to you. Isn't that right?” A whine rips from your throat, as Jungkook’s hands find a new home in between your legs, teasing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. Your body pitches forward, forcing Taehyung to back off as you move. 
“S-sorry,” you stutter, embarrassed at the way you bent over for them so easily. The feeling washes away as your angle brings you level with Taehyung’s cock, clearly strained against the fabric of his linen pants. You swear your mouth waters at the sight, itching to have him in you. Jimin’s hands find a home on your lower back, the gentle touch grounding you to the absurdity of the situation. 
Jungkook groans at the sight of your bared pussy, his hand immediately spreading your folds. You moan in tandem, eyes rolling at the pleasure.  “Shit, she’s so fucking wet.” He’s clearly speaking to the men around you, and the idea makes your cheeks flame. The squelch of your juices fills the room as Jungkook pushes a long finger inside of you. The stretch makes you gasp and quiver, having been embarrassingly long since you had anything inside of you. Your hands flail wildly until they land conveniently on Taehyung’s waist, just inches from his waiting cock. 
“Feels good?” He asks, latching his hands around your wrists and not so subtly inching them toward his cock.  “Wanna suck your cock,” you blurt the words as soon as your hand grazes him and are immediately rewarded with triplet groans from the men. 
“Go ahead, baby.” Taehyung encourages you as you find the zipper to his pants, struggling as Jungkook slips another finger inside of you and begins opening you up in a slow burn. You puff a breath when you finally get a look at Taehyung’s cock, heavy and flushed in your hand, with a prettily colored tip and strong veins under your thumb. You rub your thumb over the head and Taehyung groans, canting his hips forward into your touch. Anxiety stirs in your stomach at his size and your lack of experience, and your eyes widen at the prospect of trying to hold yourself up while being fucked on both ends. 
“Wait, I-” the words punch out of you, loud enough that the room stills. Jimin’s hands move, encouraging you to stand back upright as three concerned faces materialize in front of you. 
“Oh god, this is so embarrassing.” You groan, shutting your eyes tight. 
“We can stop!” Jungkook insists, voice surprisingly high strung. 
“No! No, I just.” You open your eyes again, licking your dried lips. “Its been a long time since I...you know. And I just, maybe we can move to the bed so I don’t like, fall?” Your eyes dart between them, expecting them to laugh or maybe tell you to just suck it up, but instead a low coo spills from between Jimin’s plush lips. 
“Poor girl, you haven’t been fucked in so long you’re worried you won't be able to handle us? Come on.” He leads you the few steps to the bed, laying you down with your back on the cool comforter. His pretty hair falls around his face and your hands are immediately in it, relishing in the soft feeling of his locks between your fingers in a way that grounds you to the moment. All you can focus on is how handsome he is, and how lucky you are to have found yourself in this situation. His lips descend on your own as if he can read your mind, grabbing at your waist with both capable hands. The kiss tastes like alcohol and you can't get enough, welcoming his tongue inside of your mouth in a messy swap of spit. Your noses squish together, as close as humanly possible to one another, until a sharp moan throws you out of your rhythm. Jimin lets up when you stop, leaning to the side casually to let you get a glimpse of the other two boys. The moan belonged to Taehyung, who had apparently stripped down while you were kissing Jimin, who was at the mercy of Jungkook’s hand on his cock. Jungkook had rid himself of his clothing as well, and you couldn't decide where to look first. 
Taehyung’s neck was on display, the muscular column inviting you to take a bite out of him as Jungkook works his deft fingers along the impressive length of his cock, all while his other hand grinds slowly against his own. 
“Aren't they pretty?” Jimin’s sinful voice snakes into your ear and makes you shiver. His hands deftly work down his own pants and boxers, and you’re given a hint of what he has to offer. 
“P-please, Jimin, want you.” He chuckles at the words but obeys you, quickly slotting himself between your legs. With no barriers between you, you can feel the thickness of his cock against your pussy, the girth of him taunting you. 
“As much as I wanna dive into your pretty little pussy, she deserves some more attention, don’t you think?” A knowing smirk graces his features as he lowers himself to your stomach, skimming the skin of your stomach with his tongue. The trail he leaves is electric, sending shockwaves of arousal right to your core as he gets closer. Your hands find a home in his hair again, happy to scrape against his scalp with a gentle pressure as he finally settles between your legs.
A stream of air against your clit makes you whimper, hips bucking off of the bed enough that he loops an arm over your stomach to hold you down. 
“Fuck, Jimin, please!” He giggles from between your legs and you think you might die before his mouth even touches you. Taehyung and Jungkook have turned their attentions to you, and the sight of them both hard in front of you is enough to make your head spin. You close your eyes, and as soon as your head drops back onto the bed, Jimin makes his move. 
Maybe it's just because it had been so long since you had someone eat you out, but the first touch of his tongue brought you spiraling toward an orgasm. Your hands tighten on his locks and he groans as he laps at you, circling your clit with his tongue in perfect little circles. The noises that escape you don’t feel like your own as you rush embarrassingly fast towards cumming. Your vision blurs with tears, and you cum without a warning. A pleasant humming fills your mind as Jimin continues to eat you out, lapping up whatever you give him with a fervor that makes your toes curl. Wet tears roll over your cheeks and into your hairline, mixing with the sweat that was already there. 
So lost in the pleasure, you barely notice that Jimin had stopped until your hands drop form his hair, limp at your sides. His lips and nose are glistening with your juices, and the sight of him makes you gasp. 
“You came so fast, baby. Were you really that deprived?” You lean into the attention and nod, whining to him when he coos over you. “Such a pretty little pussy deserves attention, doesn't it?” You know he’s relishing in your submission, but you’re more than happy to fall into it when you feel so safe. 
The bed dips above your head, and you know that it’s Taehyung and Jungkook finally joining you. You crane your head backwards to find them both staring raptly at your figure, the heaving of your chest as you recover. 
“Think she's ready for a dick?” Jimin asks casually, as if you’re not right under him. You whimper, nodding your head emphatically. He finally casts a gaze back down at you, smiling with genuine kindness. After a second he leans away, allowing cold air to wash over your body. A small feeling of alarm washes over you as he backs up, and your eyes dart around as he reaches into the bedside table a few steps away. The silver packet shimmers in the low light, as as much as you admire their willingness to be safe, you shake your head petulantly. 
Taehyung’s face hovers over your own in an instant, eyebrows furrowed as he examines you. You know he’s looking for signs of distress; assessing if you need to stop, but all he sees is your pouty lip and teary eyes. 
“I wanna-” you gulp down a swallow. “Wanna feel you raw. Please. I'm on the pill and I’m clean.” You plead your case to the man above you, knowing well that they’re all listening. “I just wanna feel you...” you try again when no one says anything. Then, Taehyung’s face lights up in a smile that would seem evil if you didn't know any better. 
“Hear that, guys? Our pretty little baby wants us raw.” Excitement passes through your stomach when you see how this is going. 
“If that’s what she wants...” Jungkook chimes in, pretending like his cock didn't jump and throb at your words. Jimin comes back to you, hands empty, and grasps the meat of your thighs, hoisting them up so that they’re bent at the knees. One hand drops, and you assume he’s going to play with your pussy, but it instead comes down harshly on the juncture of your ass and thigh. 
“You nasty little thing. Want all three of us to cum in you? Fill up your little pussy like you’ve been waiting for?” The gravel in his voice makes your pussy clench and he sees it, chuckling darkly. 
“What do you say, guys? Wanna cum inside her?” A collective groan of agreement falls from everyone but Jimin, who is busy lining himself up with your soaking entrance. You heave a breath in anticipation as Taehyung and Jungkook move to flank your sides, eager to have their hands on you. “We’re all clean too, baby. Nothing to worry about.” Jungkook suddenly assures you, tracing a gentle line down your arm closest to him. 
At your nod, Jimin presses forward, beginning his descent into you. The stretch is already unbelievable, much more intense than your tiny vibrator. He reads your body well, taking his time to enter you as you gasp and writhe. Taehyung and Jungkook do their best to soothe you, helping to pain morph into pleasure as Jimin is finally fully inside of you. 
“Holy shit, you feel so good.” His voice is airy with pleasure and it inflates your ego just a bit. He begins a steady rhythm, splitting you open with every movement of his hips. A gasp stutters out of you when you realize just how big he is, tears brimming once again at the pure pleasure he’s giving you. It doesn't take long for him to increase his pace, fucking into you so hard that you’re pushed further onto the bed, tears spilling freely. Jungkook and Taehyung have each taken the liberty to attend to one of your nipples, pinching and licking at them as they please while Jimin wrecks you. 
“Look so pretty when you cry, baby. Sweet little crybaby letting me ruin her pussy, huh?” Jimin’s words add fuel to the fire in your stomach, and you cry even more as he hits a spot inside you that you didn't even know existed. 
“I’m getting close, Jimin-” your voice is stolen from you as Jungkook takes the opportunity to work two large fingers over your sensitive clit, heightening every sensation into a burning desire in your stomach. 
“I’m cumming!” You’re impressed the words even make it out before you feel like you’re floating, cumming around Jimin’s cock. Neither him or Jungkook let up as you scream their names, hands scrabbling for something to anchor yourself. White spots cloud your vision, and as the sensation passes you realize that your whole body is trembling. Taehyung’s planting kisses on your collarbones, murmuring things you can't quite understand yet. Jimin and Jungkook’s eyes are glued to your pussy, and you can feel it fluttering with the aftershocks. 
“Fuck, gimme a turn.” Jungkook is suddenly on the move, practically shoving Jimin- who was still hard- out of the way. Jimin doesn’t protest, his chest heaving from effort as he lays down next to you on the bed, immediately stealing your attention with a kiss. 
“You are so hot, you know that?” He says, brushing stray strands of hair out of your eyes. “Crying like that got me fucking harder, somehow. Shit.” You almost feel bad that he’s still hard, but Taehyung steals your attention quickly with a kiss of his own. Jungkook’s hands dance on your thighs, admiring the red marks that Jimin’s hand had made on you. His hand comes down on the opposite cheek that Jimin slapped earlier, relishing in the way you whine into Taehyung’s kiss. He lands one more on each side for good measure, and you moan so loudly that you have to pull away from Taehyung’s mouth. 
Jungkook takes the moment to tease his head against your slick entrance, and you nod fervently to tell him you’re more than ready for his cock. He’s somehow longer than Jimin, the impressive length a bit imposing as he begins to slip in. Despite just having orgasmed, he still stretches your entrance considerably. Taehyung groans along with you, sitting up for a better look as he wraps his hand around his cock. You can see now just how needy he is, the tip red and leaking. You reach for him absently, trying to keep your eyes on Jungkook as his face twists into pleasure. 
“Think she wants you, Taehyung.” Jimin interjects, warm hands enjoying caressing your side. Your mind is fuzzy with desire, as Taehyung finally gets your cues and props himself up. The sight of his cock makes your mouth water, and you open it to him with no hesitation. Perhaps wisely, he sneaks a look down to your pussy, where Jungkook had started a slow and satisfying rhythm inside of you. As if he knew the exact timing, Taehyung shoves his cock into your waiting mouth at the exact same time Jungkook ramps up his speed. 
Stuffed on both ends, you moan, surprised and delighted at how well the men worked together. Jungkook’s pace is punishing, relentless with the way he batters your pussy like it’s made for him. Lewd groans spills from him in a constant stream, and paired with the way he stretches you, you would be screaming for the whole building to hear if not for Taehyung’s cock. 
You focus on him as well as you can, relaxing your throat to let him fuck your face as he pleases. Your gag reflex threatens to make an appearance but you fight through it, enjoying the burn of your throat expanding for him. Taehyung is surprisingly perceptive to your needs and speeds up his thrusts just enough to make you feel wonderfully numb, spit seeping around his cock. The wetness drips down your chin onto your chest, but you are far too gone to find it embarrassing. Jungkook is lost in his pleasure, hips moving at an inhumane speed that scrambles your brain and sends shockwaves through your pussy.
“Pretty fucking girl, slobbering on my cock. Lettin’ me fuck your throat like a whore while Jungkook fucks you. Just a good little whore, doing whatever we want you to do, huh?” You nod at his words as best as you can, the mixture of sweat, tears and spit making your neck feel stick, but it’s all worth it when Taehyung produces the deepest moan you've ever heard. 
Jungkook mirrors him, letting out a string of high pitched whines. You choke around Taehyung’s cock at the movements and he lets up, allowing your wrecked voice to fill the room alongside Jungkook’s. With Taehyung out of the way Jungkook leans forward and leaves a bite on your neck, gasping as you feel his release fill you. The warmth makes your eyes roll back, satisfied to finally be filled with someone’s cum. 
Jungkook continues to buck his hips as he cums, laying his head down on your chest as Jimin captivates him in a kiss of his own. You’re entranced by their embrace, watching the way their tongues slip against each others as Jungkook rests on your chest. A happiness settles inside of you, not even bothered that you didn't come, as Jungkook lets out an airy giggle. He stands up and finds the strength to pull out of you, eyes glued to the mess he made inside of you. 
His cum rushes out and you clench to keep it in, loving the heavy feeling inside of you. Jungkook swears, pushing his sweaty hair back off his gorgeous forehead. 
“Fuck, you look so pretty with your pussy filled.” You’re surprised to hear Taehyung say, as he rounds the bed. They fall into their natural rhythm again as Jungkook finds his place, cuddled into Jimin’s side as if they’re watching a show. Taehyung’s eyes glint with something you can’t explain as he works a hand over his cock. 
He sees your questioning gaze and smirks. “Had to stop fucking your mouth cause I only wanna cum inside of you.” His hands find your hips, massaging the flesh there with reverence. “Flip over.” His sweet playful tone is gone, replaced by a hard dominance that churns your stomach. It takes a second to get your muscles to work, but soon you’re on your knees and elbows, head buried in the soft comforter. Taehyung groans, clearly enjoying the change in scenery as he gropes your ass. His fingers split open your pussy, watching Jungkook’s cum seep out of it. 
He takes a swipe across your pussy with his tongue, sending a moan stuttering out of you. “Tastes so good, but I can't wait to be inside of it.” 
“Please fuck me, Taehyung. I need you so bad.” You whine. The desire to have another load of cum inside of you overtakes any decorum as you shuffle your hips back against him, hoping it will make him act faster. 
“You greedy little girl. Already been fucked twice and you can't get enough?” He teases but you can hear the hitch in his voice, the way the heavy head of his cock traces against your exposed folds. He takes extra time to run the head of his cock over your engorged clit, extra sensitive since you didn't cum with Jungkook. Without warning his cock is sliding into you, pushing through the wetness of Jungkook’s come and your arousal. 
By far the thickest of the three, Taehyung’s cock punches the air out of you with the new angle. Your manicured nails grip the comforter in anticipation, and before you know it Taehyung is pounding into you. You feel like you will never catch your breath again with the way he’s moving inside of you, deconstructing your nervous system piece by piece. You’re vaguely aware of Jimin and Jungkook next to you and you turn your head in curiosity. 
Jungkook, despite his tiredness, has his lips wrapped around Jimin’s cock, eyes closed in pleasure as he bobs his head. The sight sends a ripple of pleasure straight to your core, tightening around Taehyung so much that he slaps your ass in appreciation. Jimin’s eyelids hang low but open, dangerous eyes boring right into your own as if he could read your mind. The hand that isn’t propping him up is resting gently on Jungkook’s head, and even with the momentum from Taehyung’s thrusts making your vision blurry, you can tell that Jimin’s face is the picture of sinful pleasure. 
Taehyung’s fingers seek out your clit and your instantly clench around him, your walls spasming as you fall into sensory bliss, all but drooling into the fabric below you. 
“Love this greedy little pussy, baby. So lucky we met her-” a hitch of his breath accompanied by his hips stuttering. “Come on, cum for me so I can fill you up.” His fingers somehow move faster, strumming your clit in a way that makes your toes clench and your stomach unravel. You cum with a force you didn’t know possible, gushing around Taehyung’s cock in a sticky mess. He thrusts only a few more times before spilling inside of you, slapping your ass again for good measure.  Your ears ring, happy with the numbness of your world. You can tell there are several hands on you, but who they belong to is a mystery. Taehyung’s cock leaves you and you whine, immediately missing the weight of him inside you. His cum spills out behind him and you feel like you could cry as the fullness slips away from you. You try your best to voice it as your body collapses onto the bed, but you can’t tell if they can even hear you let alone understand you. 
The edges of your vision return, fingers and toes coming back to life. You finally make out the hands on your head to be Jungkook’s, who is laying down next to you, staring at you as if you were made of stars. He’s speaking lowly and you smile when you finally make sense of what he’s saying.
“Good girl, now there you are. Hey.” The soft tone he uses makes you feel at ease. “Can you tell me what you were just trying to say?” His eyebrows furrow cutely and you try so hard to focus on his question and not the way you want to kiss him so badly. It takes your mouth a few moments to catch up to your brain, and you finally wade through the happy haze of your orgasm. 
“I said that I-” you wince at how wrecked your voice is. “I don’ want all the cum to slip out of me.” 
Jungkook’s eyes widen at your admission, perhaps expecting you to have much more PG thing to say. He recovers quickly, allowing a sexy smirk to break through. 
“Jimin,” Jungkook says, and for a second you’re still confused, until the man he calls upon is taking his place. His makeup still looks impeccable, and this close up you can see the details in his irises. He says nothing, and you aren’t sure exactly what he heard, so you just start again. 
“I want to-”
“Have all the cum stuffed back into you?” His words shock you despite how lewd the entire night had been. “Are you sure you’re gonna be alright? That last orgasm really took it out of you, sweetheart.” 
Your heart jumps at his consideration, but there’s still a fire burning deep in your stomach that you know he could be the one to put out. You turn your head just enough to see that his cock is still hard, leaking precum against his toned stomach.
“Yes, I’m sure. Please. Please. I promise I’ll be good. Wanna make you cum. Wanna have you all in me.” Jimin’s eyes darken immediately, and his strong hands maneuver your pliant body back onto your back. A surge of confidence runs through you at the animalistic desire on his face. 
“Gonna get you all filled up, baby. Our perfect little cum dump. Lettin’ us all take our turns with you.” He spreads your legs, examining your puffy pussy lips and the remnants of cum that leak from you. He gathers up what he can with his fingers and shoves it back into you. You shudder at the intrusion, beyond sensitive to his touches. 
“”M not gonna last long, baby. I’m so fucking hard.” He whines, palming himself as he gets to where he needs to be, settled between your legs snugly.  “S okay, just want your cum.” You assure him sweetly, feeling the weight of the night as well. You weren't even sure you had it in you to cum again, but you knew you wouldn't end the night satisfied without having them all spill inside of you. 
Jimin wastes no time after your reassurance, and his cock slides right in as if you were made for him. The lubrication makes for an extremely easy glide. Every move he makes strikes pleasure in your pussy, the sensitivity of the muscles making your orgasm build with surprising speed. Jimin can feel you clenching around him and he gasps, knowing your tells after seeing you cum so many times in one night. He presses a nimble finger to your clit, and that’s all it takes for you to cum again. A slow simmering orgasm that makes your legs shake as you gasp, latching onto Jimin’s arms for support. He joins you not long after, giving a few short thrusts to make sure that he fills you up deep. 
He drops his full body weight on top of you and you relish in the secure feeling, his cock twitching while still inside you. The shake in your legs finally stills, and Jimin pulls out of you, careful to minimize the amount that slipped out of you. You closed your legs instinctively although you were exhausted beyond belief. As the adrenaline wears off and the sweat begins to dry you shiver under him. Despite the heat of his body, you were definitely in need of something else to cover you. When he feels you shiver he plants a kiss on your forehead before sitting up and pulling aside the comforter on the bed before leading you underneath the layers of warmth. He slips in right after you, wrapping his arms steady around your figure. Your eyes threaten to slip shut, but the absence of the others nags at the back of your brain. 
“Went to get clothes and water,” Jimin explains as if he can read your mind. His head barely lifts from your shoulder as he speaks, and the low hum of his voice against you soothes the very last of your frayed nerves. Seconds later the door glides open, a now-dressed Taehyung and Jungkook with bottles of water and fabric bundled in their hands. 
You and Jimin both take a water bottle, and the other boys settle down on the bed. Suddenly you realize the bed isn't quite big enough for all four of you, as Taehyung’s limbs sprawl overtop of Jungkook’s. 
Jungkook waits until you drain half the water bottle, and then shuffles the pile of clothes in his arms. 
“They’re uh- they’re my clothes, but I. Figured they'd be better than your...dress.” He blushes, gingerly holding it out to you. The sight makes you giggle, but you thank him, and pull the shirt on over your head while you're still in the bed. Feeling like you could trust your legs again you slip out of bed and pull on the boxers and sweatpants he gave you. The shirt falls to your thighs and the bottoms he gave you only fit because of their drawstring, but the enveloping warmth and comfort made up for the size difference. 
“Thank you, Jungkook.” You whisper your thanks, scared to ruin the comfortable low hum of conversation between Taehyung and Jimin. It's easy to slip back under the sheets, wedged between Jimin and Jungkook. Taeyhyung takes the other side of Jimin, barely having enough room for his body at the edge of the mattress. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, as he reaches an arm across Jimin to reach you. He gently places a hand on your arm, rubbing gently at the skin there. 
An odd wave of emotion crests over you and your eyes well. “Thank you, by the way.” 
To your complete embarrassment they all coo at once, squishing in closer to you. You all smell like sex and sweat, but the embrace is so sweet that you have to remind yourself it was only a one night stand. 
“We should be the ones thanking you, Y/N. Believe it or we don’t usually do...this.” Jungkook admits. He’s facing your back but you can imagine the blush on his cheeks as he speaks. The idea shocks you and a sound of disbelief punches out of you. 
“It’s true,” Jimin pokes your ribs gently when he sees the look on your face. “We’re pretty picky. But you...” He stops himself, seeming to be afraid of saying too much. A teasing glimmer of hope sprouts in your chest with the implications of his words. Was it too soon for you to suggest doing this again? Or just hanging out like normal people? There’s no denying that you’re wildly attracted to all of them, but does that mean its worth pursuing? “We can think about it in the morning.” Comes Jimin’s gentle voice. Taehyung nods from behind him, and you can tell that his exhaustion is catching up to him. You have no idea it was when you left the club with them, and certainly have no idea what hour it is now. Jungkook grunts his agreement into your neck, and you hope he can't sense the way your heartbeat speeds up at his proximity. 
“Well still, thank you. And good night.” You murmur, nestling into the surprisingly soft pillow. Your eyes shut, and sleep is just inches away, latched between the two men closest to you, when Jimin begins to wiggle. 
“Shit, guys. Let me out, I need to piss.” Triplet sighs follow his demand, and you all laugh as he flips you off on the way to the bathroom. 
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hees-mine · 7 months
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𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝟔 𝐁𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫! - 𝐋.𝐡𝐬
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𝐇𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐮𝐧𝐠 ⚥ 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫!
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: smut, unprotected sex, crying, angst, love making, alcohol consumption, fluff cause kinktober isn’t my strong suit💀
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“Let me guess, the usual?” The bartender asks with a knowing smirk while he uses the white towel on his hip to clean yet another beer mug.
“You know me so well.” You tilt your head a slight smile just barely reaching your lips.
“Strawberry margarita coming right up.” he clicks his tongue and winks at you before starting your drink. “So, how bad was it?” He asks after a moment of silence.
Turning your attention away from your phone to look at the familiar face of your bartender, you respond. “Excuse me?”
“The breakup, you know.” Within a flash, your drink is sitting in front of you, and you still can’t understand how he always gets it ready so fast. Little did you know he always tried a little harder when it came to your order than the rest of his customers. What can he say? He had a little thing for you.
“How did-“ he quickly cuts you off.
“I know,” he smiles, taking the words right out of your mouth. “Lucky guess,” he shrugs.
“Very lucky, guess.” You eye him, taking a sip of your drink and staring into his eyes over the rim of your glass.
“Want me to be honest?” He wipes down the counter and leans his elbows onto it, meeting your curious gaze as you give him a nod to continue. “Well, I've never seen you before, but just recently, you started to frequent here.” he pauses for a second. “And tell me if I’m wrong, but the puffy eyes the off into space look, and though you’ve been coming here for a whole month, I have yet to see you genuinely smile.”
How the fuck did he know that? or maybe you were just that obvious who knows. “Well, maybe I just lost a family member or a friend.” you throw out other ideas.
“Hmm, possibly.” he taps the counter with his index finger. “But I’ve worked here a long time, and your eyes say heartbroken. Other people who lost family have this almost glazed-over look in their eyes, and no matter how deep you look, there’s still nothing but sorrow.”
So was he a fucking empath or a bartender?
“Okay, or I’m just taking it better than some people.” You don’t know why, but something about someone knowing the exact reason why you frequent the bar late at night was embarrassing. You felt like a typical girl crying over a piece of shit man that never cared about you in the first place.
“You’re good at throwing people off, I give you that,” he smiles. “Thing is, I can see that you want to smile. I can see that beyond those beautiful sparkling eyes of yours, that there’s so much more to you than downing more margaritas than I can count on my hands and feet.” your eyes shift away from his as you sip from your cup to avoid his intimidating gaze. “I can see that you’re broken.” your breath hitches that same annoying prickly feeling in your eyes, making itself known as a single tear rolled down your cheek. “But you can be repaired.” he strokes your cheek, a soft smile on his face while you stare at him helplessly. You just want the pain to go away, anything to distract you from the heartbreak because it’s been eating you from the inside out, and your bartender’s right, you are broken, but in your eyes, you feel broken beyond repair.
“No.” A shaky breath leaves your lips as you lean into his soft yet caring touch.
“One chance. I know it’s so random, but one chance.” he tucks your hair behind your ear, his thumb now lightly tracing your lipline in case you didn’t already know what he meant. “All I’m asking,” he whispers with a heavy heart.
He doesn’t know why, but the first day he laid eyes on you in the bar with mascara running down your cheeks and your quiet, broken sobs while you drowned yourself in alcohol, the only thing he ever wanted was to just see you smile.
And tonight might just be his lucky night.
Opening your eyes to meet his, you sniffle softly and mutter a small. “Okay,” and even though it’s small and barely there, he feels his heart race a million times faster when he sees the tiniest little smile on your face, but it wasn’t forced like the others you gave him in the past to try and make it seem like you were okay no this was real and if you gave him a chance he’d make you smile like that every morning.
𐃯 𐃯 𐃯
It was well past midnight by the time you both left the bar. heeseung drove you home since you had been drinking well, only one margarita but no drinking and driving on his watch.
You had both already entered your home, and you silently led him to your bedroom after taking off your shoes at the door.
He closed your bedroom door behind him, quickly zeroing in on your frame so delicate, fragile, and almost standoffish. “You’re so beautiful,” he whispers as he wraps his arms around your midsection, pressing his back against yours softly as he kisses your exposed shoulder, making you shiver cause it’s been a while since you felt a man’s touch.
Trailing his hands upward, he grips the straps of your dress, pulling them down your shoulders and kissing the expanse of your soft neck. “He never called me beautiful,” you whisper as you tilt your head, allowing him to reach even more of your skin.
“He was blind,” he says, slowly pulling down the zipper on the back of your dress. “So blind.” his kisses leave little tingles all over your skin.
Rolling your dress down your waist, he lets it pool around your feet, and his hands immediately find the warmth of your waist. Trailing his hand up, he cups your exposed breast with his left hand, smoothing his thumb over your nipple and kissing the shell of your ear.
The faint sound of moans fills his ears, and he smiles to himself cause he’s the one who’s behind them.
He switched to the other side of your neck, his right hand moving from your waist to your stomach, caressing your smooth skin. “So soft.” he takes his time with you, going slowly cause he knows it’s been a while for you, and he could say the same cause he also had been heartbroken before. That’s why the look in your eyes was so easy for him to detect.
While working his lips on your neck, he pulls his hands away from you to unbutton his dress shirt, letting it hit the floor before back hugging you, letting you feel his warm chest pressed against your naked back. He felt so broad. Just his hold on you made you feel safe as you relaxed further and further into his warm embrace.
Ever so slowly, he drops his palm between your legs, rubbing you through the silky material of your underwear. “Heeseung,” you gasp, feeling the heat of his palm stroking your core.
He moans the moment he feels just how wet you’ve gotten for him, and his kisses on your neck grow needy the longer he hears you moaning for him. “Y/n, I’m right here” he caresses your thigh softly, right hand still rubbing your clit through your panties. “Can I?” He slightly tugs on the crotch part of your panties, and he feels you nod against his shoulder. Without a second passing after your approval, he slips his fingers inside your underwear, running them delicately through your folds. “Y/n,” he whines just below your ear, relishing in the way you feel just on his fingers, and hasn’t even been inside you yet.
“Heeseung, please,” you whimper, legs already giving out from his gentle touch.
The hint is not hard to understand, he knows exactly what you’re asking for, and he turns you around, pressing his lips on yours, finally getting a taste of you and your strawberry daiquiri as he replaces his hands on your lower back while yours play with his belt until it’s undone and his pants drop to his feet.
He gently pulled away from the kiss, picking you up carefully and slowly placing you onto the middle of your bed, seamlessly laying between your legs and dragging the material of your panties down slightly. “This okay?” He checks with you just to make, and you confirm, making him to continue his actions until you’re completely bare in front of him.
You jolted in place the moment you felt his breath hitting your core. His kisses and soft caresses on your thighs made you feel like you were so delicate and precious to him, and you were so so special to him, and you didn’t even know it yet, but when this night ended, you’d definitely know. “Heeseung,” you cry out loud in pleasure when his tongue meets your outer lips. You were in complete shock because you’ve never felt anything like this before.
He stops when he hears just how loud you are, thinking he might have scraped you with his teeth. “I'm sorry, you okay?” He kissed your mound, hands still continuously rubbing soft circles on your legs.
“Yeah, I just never..” you trailed off, and now that you think about it, the idea that your boyfriend never even did what a stranger was doing for you made you feel even more terrible about your relationship with that piece of shit.
Heeseung swears he misheard you cause what type of fucking idiot wouldn’t want to pleasure a sweet, beautiful woman like you? “He missed out.” he starts out using his finger to collect your arousal and slowly pushes it in. “Cause you’re the sweetest thing my tongue ever tasted” Without missing a beat, his mouth hovers over your core, softly licking your hooded clit as he works his finger in deeper and deeper.
Gripping onto the sheets with one hand, your other goes to pet his hair, rubbing your fingers over his scalp, making his eyes flutter shut while he savors every last drop of you.
Closing your eyes, you allow yourself to indulge in a new type of pleasure, one that you enjoy beyond words. You fall so deep into bliss you don’t even notice his second finger going in alongside his other, that is, until he starts curling them up, hitting your spot and making you see literal stars.
The tighter you grip his fingers, he knows the closer you’re getting, and he can’t wait to give you the orgasms that your precious body deserves.
When you pant, his name breathless and needy, he feels the repeated clench, and he sucks on your clit just a bit harder to heighten the pleasure of your high, still carefully working his fingers deep inside you, he moans into your heat when your hold on his hair gets a bit rougher, but he doesn’t mind he loves your raw reaction to the pleasure he gives you.
Humming at your taste, he slowly pulls his fingers out of your soaked core, replacing them with his tongue so he can swallow your juices, giving you the full experience and showing you what a real man does for a woman when he really loves and appreciates her.
When your moans turned to soft whimpers, and your body shook ever so slightly, he pulled away from you but not before placing a soft few kisses on the delicious, delicate area.
Seconds later, your sounds are ones of sadness. Your moans turn into quiet sobs, and he immediately hovers over you, scanning your face with worry. “Did I do something wrong?” He asks, worried as he calmly strokes your cheek, and he looks like he’s seconds away from crying, too.
You cry even harder than before because he was worried over something he didn’t even do. You were so overwhelmed by pleasure, but you could still feel the pain in the deepest part of you because your own boyfriend never treated you half as good as heeseung did.
“Y/n? I can g-go if you want me to,” he starts getting ready to get off the bed, feeling his heart drop at the thought of leaving you like this, but if he made you uncomfortable in any way, he didn’t want to stay.
“No,” you quickly grab his biceps, holding him in place.
“Please tell me what’s wrong.” he strokes your tears away with his thumb, only for new ones to quickly replace them as tears well in his own eyes. He hated seeing you cry. He saw it every night for the past month, and it hurt him just a little bit more every time.
“I promise it’s not you.” you rubbed his biceps softly, calming his nerves a little. “It’s just I’m not used to this,” you say, referring to how he was treating you. “My ex neve-“
“Shh,” he shushes you and shakes his head back and forth softly. He wasn’t gonna let you go another night crying over some fucking asshole that didn’t deserve you or your tears. “Forget about him and focus on me.” he stares into your eyes, hoping you can see the anger towards your ex, the sadness for you, but most importantly, the care that they held for you. “I’ll make you forget, I promise.” he kissed your forehead softly. “Take all your tears away.” he kissed your temple and finally kissed your lips as he whispered. “Let me show you what it’s like to be loved. Let me repair you, and you can repair me.” A single tear falls from his eyes, and you quickly wipe it away to press your lips against his.
“Repair me.” that’s all he needed to hear before leaning up to take his underwear off, bearing everything to you like you did with him, being vulnerable with you just like you were with him.
“Thank you,” he whispers on your lips as his hands roam your sides, your hips, your chest, your legs. He was touching you all over, replacing every last inch of your skin with his handprint and his marks of love, as do you, with him, your dainty fingers strumming his chest, back, and thighs, pulling him closer to your body with want, need, and desire.
His bulge brushes against your core over and over again. As he circles his hips, your face grows hot, and a thin layer of sweat forms between you two, sticking you both together as breathless moans are exchanged between one another.
Your hand shimmed down below his waistline at the same time as his. You both chuckled softly, and his heart felt so full hearing you genuinely laugh.
“Ready?” He exhaled a long breath, touching his forehead with yours. A low hum of approval was all he needed to slowly ease his way inside, guiding his tip past your prepped walls and finally indulging in the blissful feeling that you’ve both been waiting for.
His mouth parts open in a gasp-like moan, as does yours. Both of you are too overwhelmed to speak. All that comes out are quick little breaths and pleasurable gasps.
Your face twists in pleasure, and your hands cling to his waist as he cards his fingers through your hair and cups your cheek. “Y/n,” he moans deeply, and it’s the sweetest sound you’ve ever heard.
He makes more than a hundred different facial expressions. Just with the slightest thrust, he can feel every single nerve ending, and it makes him feel so drunk off you.
“Heeseung,” you breathe into his mouth, heart racing in your chest from the fullness you felt as he bottomed out, reaching the deepest part of you, overtaking that empty feeling and replacing it with absolute pleasure.
Hooking your legs around his waist, you grip him for support because you feel like you’re slipping when he gets lost in your silky walls.
With every thrust, he watches your face, and as he speeds up, he can’t help but grow flustered at the sounds your conjoined bodies make, and you’re not much better off the both of you shyly hiding in the crooks of each other’s necks.
“You’re so perfect.” he barely gets the words out before he’s whimpering in your ear.
The words he says make it feel as if time has stopped, and in that moment, it’s just you and him alone in the safeness of your bedroom with nothing but the feeling of hurt, passion, and longing for something more.
Every stroke brings you closer and makes you forget. And every tight squeeze rids his mind of nothing but you and this moment.
You’re both getting close, and his hand goes down to your clit, massaging it in perfect circles while both of you moan continuously at the feeling of each other.
Safe, connectedness and love are what you both felt before tipping over that beautiful edge of pleasure and allowing yourselves to get lost in the sea of blissfulness.
You both hold tightly onto one another, making each other your safe place where you can let everything go.
Heads still clouded and full with contentment, heeseung attaches his lips to yours in a soft, delicate kiss, and when he pulls away from you to look into your soft eyes, he feels all the shattered parts of his broken heart piecing back together, and he blinds you with a beautiful bright beaming smile.
“Thank you,” you whisper as you both stroke each other's face adoringly. “For repairing me.”
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Of Bartenders and Bodyguards
Part 1: Three Shots of Whiskey
BARTENDER!ELLIE X FEM!READER X BOUNCER!ABBY
Word Count: 4.8K
(Banner credits to @cafekitsune)
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A/N: Well this has been sitting in my drafts for like... I dunno, 2 months? How about I unleash it? You guys see the way Ellie's hands move when she's at that fucking workbench. Tell me she wouldn't be the best bartender. If you say she wouldn't, you are a liar. Anyways, here's some gay shit! I'll go ahead and put in a *trigger warning* right now! Also, there will be more to this.
WARNINGS: Alcohol use (legal), Abby/Ellie typical violence, mentions of sexual assault and rape, mentions of being drugged, swearing (duh), misogynistic men, Modern!AU
SYNOPSIS: It's Black Wednesday and when you are almost drugged at a bar, Abby and Ellie swoop down to save you. Of course, the girls cannot get you out of their minds now.
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The night started out as any other night.
Prep for service, make ordered drinks, clean up after, check IDs to make sure the bouncer at the door didn’t overlook anything, and stay vigilant in order to not let anything bad happen in the club. After doing this for 3 years, you could say she was a bit of an expert on spotting bullshit and diffusing chaos. She’s seen it all and dealt with it all.
“Ready for tonight?” The auburn-haired bartender glanced up from the countertop, pausing her knife strokes in cutting up various fruits she knew that she would need for the many cocktails she would make that evening. Leaning on the freshly wiped down countertop, the tall and muscular blonde woman wearing that freshly ironed button-up black collared shirt with the sleeves rolled up just under her elbows and the matching black dress pants. Her hair was pulled back in that same braid she almost always had, and those black fingerless gloves that the bartender had a massive thing for all the time.
“Psssh,” The bartender smirked, handing the headset over from under the countertop and watching the blonde hook it up to her ear. “I’m a professional, always.”
“Try not to threaten anyone tonight, Ellie?”
“I’m good, Abby. 100 percent. The gun will stay under the counter, I promise.”
Abby smirked before she watched Ellie offer her a glass from under the countertop. Before Abby could accept it, she raised a brow and smelled the liquid in the glass. “Just seltzer, right?”
“Dude, I’m not trying to get fuckin’ fired tonight,” Ellie began placing several bottles underneath the bar and folded up some of the towels under the counter, lining the edge of her station. She looked at the clock and saw it was 8:47 PM. Only a little while longer until the doors opened up.
Abby quickly downed said seltzer and left the glass on the countertop, giving Ellie a small wink before she took her own place at the front of the club to watch everything that was going on. All of the workers were bustling around to get ready for tonight’s service. It was bound to be insane; it was something that the service industry called Black Wednesday. An influx of out-of-towners would be flooding inside the day before Thanksgiving and the max capacity would be reached in a matter of an hour.
When the clock struck 9, patrons began to flood in almost uncontrollably. Abby was her usual broody self, standing in the corner, prepared to throw someone out in a moment’s notice, watching over everything like some gargoyle on the rooftop of a chapel.
Her arms were crossed, accentuating those gorgeous muscles in that shirt as the hours carried on until almost midnight. She had thrown out several individuals so far, and Ellie had been true to her word; the pistol under the counter for emergencies had stayed strapped to the wood, the safety on, but preloaded and ready to use just in case. Hopefully it wouldn’t be like it was on Halloween when Ellie genuinely had to threaten someone before they jumped over the counter.
The night had been going smoothly so far… So far.
The next flood of customers came in, and Abby had seen many individuals enter the bar that night… she’s seen so many girls come in, wearing the shortest skirts and the tightest dresses known to mankind, and she didn’t ever bat an eye… Until she saw you.
When you entered the club, her heart skipped and she openly gaped. She had never seen anybody quite like you before… A wine-colored blouse with off-shoulder bell sleeves down to your wrists, and a white pleated skirt that was short enough to cover your rear but leave almost all of your thigh on display. And somehow, you found red heels the same shade as your shirt, which anyone knew was nearly impossible. There was a gilded hairclip in your locks in the shape of a rose, the edges golden and shiny, and there was a butterfly tattoo on the back of your neck.
Abby’s never faltered before… well, maybe when she met Ellie for the first time during her training? But beyond that, she’s never been speechless before. There was only one problem, though… That man with his arm wrapped around your waist, skimming dangerously close to your ass. Every few seconds, you would force his hand back up, but he would continue to push the envelope, pissing him off by the millisecond.
When you two sat down at the bar, the man snapped his fingers in Ellie’s direction as she spoke to another patron. At hearing the sound of fingers snapping over the booming music, followed up by a whistle, she openly rolled her eyes at the man who dare interrupt her.
“I’ll be right with you,” She snapped, accepting the $100 that the other patron gave her. She folded up the bill, stuffed it into her apron pocket before standing in front of the arrogant man, and then she looked at you. Her cheeks went pink, and she had to grab at her shirt for a second to calm herself down.
You were gorgeous… But you looked embarrassed. Was it because the man called Ellie over like she was a fucking dog?
“What can I get you two?” She spoke mostly to you, watching as your eyes lit up and you smiled warmly. It made her feel fuzzy inside for a second and she almost jumped out of her skin at hearing Abby’s voice inside of her headset.
“She’s adorable, isn’t she?” The blonde smirked, forcing Ellie to look up for a second. She resisted the urge to flip Abby off and waited patiently for the order.
“Two margaritas,” The man spoke quickly, and without even looking in your direction. You had this face of disdain and before you could speak out, he hushed you. “You’ll love it, I promise. Best thing this place has to offer.”
“Actually,” Ellie butted in. “All of our drinks are good, so she doesn’t need to get—”
“Did I ask for your opinion?” The man barked, his unkempt brows creasing with aggression. Ellie didn’t even flinch but looked disgusted as she turned to look at you, seeing the poor puppy-dog eyes from you and all of her anger began to melt away at how guilty you acted. Of course, the bastard man wasn’t done insulting her yet. “Just do your job, dyke.”
“Michael!” You shouted, your voice almost piercing the air as you bristled with this uncomfortable air around you. He barely even looked at you as Ellie leaned on the counter for a second, licking at her lips and giving a soft little click to the underside of her teeth before walking off and doing what he asked for.
“C’mon baby, she was askin’ for that,” The man, Michael, reached out and gently grabbed at your chin. Even from where she was standing, Abby could see you were uncomfortable. And when Ellie returned with the drinks, Michael reached down once again and this time, grabbed a handful of your ass. Abby’s fist curled into the fabric of her shirt, and she seethed with anger at how you reacted. It would be different if you liked what he did, but you looked disgusted.
Very carefully, you grabbed at the drink in front of you and gave a little sip before immediately putting it down. It was clear that you didn’t like it but couldn’t speak out because of the death grip this asshole had on you. His hand was now on your thigh, just below the hem of your skirt, and you looked absolutely frozen in fear, like a deer in headlights.
It wasn’t until everyone was distracted that Abby saw something that had her moving almost instantly in your direction. One of the servers dropped a glass on the ground and the sound had everyone, including you, looking in that direction. And in that split second moment, your so-called date slipped something into your drink.
The packet of white powder was dumped in the liquid and fizzed before dissolving almost immediately.  When you went back to the drink to try it again, a hand closed around the glass, making you look up in surprise. Abby took the glass from your hands, putting it on the counter and leaning down to speak so you didn’t need to strain to hear her.
“Don’t drink that, sweetheart.”
Abby felt you shiver as she gently released your wrist, looking at the man next to you who was glaring at her, fire burning in his eyes. Before he could say a single thing, Abby got Ellie’s attention as she was in the middle of handing off a scotch to another customer.
“Ellie, call the police,” Abby said without hesitation, making you immediately fear for the worst. The drink in front of you looked unsuspecting, and then Abby watched you slowly dip your pinky finger into the alcoholic beverage. Everybody watched as your blue nail polish turned purple and your entire face twisted in abstract rage.
“You tried to…” Michael stood out of his seat, almost like he was going to run away. Your voice faltered as you looked at Ellie, and then to Abby, your heart twisting uncomfortably in your chest. Almost like an instinct, your fists curled into the fabric of your dress. “Why?”
“Come on baby,” Michael smirked. “You been playin’ hard to get for weeks now. You come out, dressed like that, and think I ain’t fuckin’ tonight?”
His entire demeanor made Abby even more pissed off. She heard Ellie call the police almost immediately after he spoke and very cautiously approached the man. “Sir, you’re gonna want to stay away from her.”
“Don’t even try that shit,” Michael jeered, still grinning like a wolf. “Look at her; she’s askin’ for it.”
Very slowly, you sat back down on your stool and felt a single tear race down your cheek. Michael wasn’t the nicest person, but he never acted like this before… Was tonight just a ploy to get you in bed with him? You had been seeing him for a few weeks now, and every time you gave a small kiss on his cheek before you went back home.
And each time, he acted more and more agitated and short-fused. And now it was making sense why; Michael was pissed you didn’t put out on day one… That’s what you get for using Tinder, huh?
Ellie could see your hands shaking as you went to clutch at your chest, trying not to look at Michael and focus on anything else. Ellie hung up the phone and looked at Abby, simply holding up four fingers and then tapping the inside of her wrist. After working with each other for 3 years, they knew how to communicate basic things without needing words. The cops would be there in four minutes, and she told Abby to restrain him.
“You need to back off, now,” Abby said, calmly and collectively. Michael was on the opposite end of the spectrum and began screaming immediately.
“Don’t fucking talk to me, bitch! I’m not goin’ anywhere,” He got closer and closer to Abby and you began to get back off the stool, backing away and nearly stepping into another patron in the process. Michael noticed this, and he went to reach for your arm… and then, all hell broke loose.
Abby reacted first. Her veined hand wrapped around Michael’s wrist and she pulled his entire arm over his head, grabbing the back of his shirt and slamming his face down onto the counter. Ellie watched as the man struggled, kicking at Abby’s shins to try and get her to let go. The sound of a gun cocking had Michael finally going still and he looked up, staring down the barrel of a pistol in Ellie’s hand.
“Think again, motherfucker,” Ellie hissed, her tattooed arm flexing as she held the gun to his face. The safety was still on, but she wouldn’t hesitate to fire a clip directly into his skull if necessary. The look of terror on your face spoke volumes as you wrapped both arms around your body and began to slowly sink down onto the floor. Tears flowed freely and you curled in on yourself… It was truly a heartbreaking sight to see.
When the cops finally showed up, Abby all but tossed Michael in their direction, watching the man get shoved in the back of a police car. And unfortunately, because of this kind of incident, the bar had to be shut down. Police were swarming all over the place, and the owner decided the best course of action was to close the doors for the night. It would kill his revenue, but it was better than people being scared away by the police.
Abby was the first to give her statement to the cops, and then Ellie, and finally, you.
You had mostly been in shock the entire time, sitting on an outside seat as the officer questioned you. He asked you if this kind of thing had happened before, to which you responded no, but gave him the details about how Michael got more and more aggressive with each date you two went on.
As you sat there, with your face in your hands, you could hear the cops talking as they ran a screening on Michael… “Fake ID. Mitchell Loomis, arrested for aggravated and sexual assault… was released on parole last month.”
And then suddenly, you felt like the biggest idiot in the world. You willingly went out with a criminal. And not just any kind of criminal; no, you were dating a rapist! And had it not been for Abby and Ellie, you would have probably been next! You looked up at the two women who acted like your guardian angels that night, and you immediately started crying again.
Your sobs were so quiet that no one could hear you. Ellie was too busy beating herself up, looking down at her shoes and grumbling in anger. “Fuck, they were sitting right in front of me. How did I not see it?”
Abby frowned, putting a hand on her shoulder. “El, it’s the busiest damn night of the year. One person can’t see everything… that’s why I’m there to watch your back, yeah?”
“I know,” Ellie sighed, rubbing at her forehead and flinching at the cold air ruffling up her short auburn locks. The November air was especially brutal tonight, and Ellie suddenly got worried about you. Considering what you had been wearing, you must have been freezing. She looked over and saw you curled forward in the chair, your entire face buried into your thighs as your tears stained the fabric of your skirt. “Shit, poor thing…”
“Come on,” Abby tugged on Ellie’s sleeve before they both approached you. When Ellie reached down to gently place a hand on your shoulder, you shot back up, eyes wide and bloodshot with fear before you relaxed, seeing their faces.
“Easy, easy…” Abby knelt down in front of you, reaching her hand out and gently placing the warm skin against your cheek. You immediately grabbed at her wrist and pushed your face into her palm, tears staining her knuckles as your makeup smeared. Even with your runny mascara and lipstick stains on your face, you still looked beautiful even in this moment. “You’re okay… you’re fine, it’s alright.”
“I feel… so stupid…” You said through hiccups, tears tracking down your cheeks. You stared into Abby’s gunmetal blue irises, trying to find a reason to calm down. It felt like someone was squeezing her heart, you looked so shattered. “H-how could I… n-not see this coming?”
“It’s okay,” Ellie sat on the table next to you, reaching out and gently tucking a lock of hair behind your ear before she softly caressed your jaw. The action was comforting, even if her hands had rough callouses on them. “It could’ve happened to anybody, you know… I’m actually impressed you have that nail polish. That’s ingenious, actually.”
The color had gone back to blue in the time you had been sitting down and you looked at your semi-short nails. Ever since you began your Tinder escapade, you had purchased the special nail polish, just in case something bad happened. You wore it all the time, and it was a plus that it was a pretty color too, so no one expected a thing… And now, you just wanted to take it off. You had done it to every single drink before tonight, but not this time… why not this time?
Very slowly, Ellie was removing her jacket and draped it over your shoulders in order to try and keep you warm. The shivers began to slowly subside, and you pushed your face into the tough leather, inhaling the scent that rolled off of it. You could smell rustic like cologne, and something that reminded you of your dad in a weird way, and you instantly felt better.
Abby noticed how you were pushing your whole face in Ellie’s jacket, and she elbowed the bartender when she smirked at the blonde. Suddenly, it felt like a competition to see who could comfort you more and you calmed down in seconds with how sweet and doting they were both acting. Ellie had gotten you a bottle of water and Abby was holding your hands the entire time to try and keep you focused on anything else but what happened to you that night.
When the minutes carried on, the night got later and later… Until you looked down and saw what time it was on Abby’s watch, you had been fine. And then, you jumped up from the chair, making Ellie nearly fall off the table she was perched on. You reached down and grabbed Abby’s wrist, her cheeks turning a soft pink at your grip. “Ohmygod, is that the time?!”
You pulled out your phone and began to aggressively type something into your phone. “Oh fuck, finding a damn Uber is gonna be like… $50 right now? Are you kidding me?” The emotions crossing your face were wild, making Ellie and Abby worry at the same time. Both of them stood up as you began pacing like mad, hair whipping in the wind and the cold having you shivering again.
Just as Abby glanced down, seeing your knees wobble, her face got even redder as a certain gust of wind lifted your skirt, but you were far too frantic to notice. Wow, even your panties were white, how cute!
“If you want,” Ellie stepped forward, holding her hands in front of her and gently tugging on her fingers with a certain sad look that made your heart ache. “I uhm… I could take you home?”
“El, after what happened tonight—”
“Just straight to your home,” Ellie defended herself against Abby’s words. Your face turned a deep red as you looked at the price of the Uber on your phone, and then back up to Ellie… The woman who had threatened your date with a weapon for you… Could she be trusted? “I promise you’ll get there safe.”
After many minutes of being worried, you decided that getting into the bartender’s car was somehow safer than getting into a complete stranger’s car. And yes, Ellie was a stranger, but… If you tried to rationalize any harder, you would get a headache. “Okay. Yeah, sure, I would really appreciate that, miss.”
Ellie pulled her keys out of her pocket and looked at Abby once again, watching her roll her eyes. She put a hand in her pocket and fiddled with the lighter inside of her pants, attempting to calm herself down when she watched Ellie wrap an arm around your shoulders and lead you towards her 1989 K5 Blazer. The deep blue color and shiny exterior made you slightly nervous.
The gorgeous bartender opened the door for you, giving a soft smile before she noticed that you looked uncomfortable. Ellie immediately frowned. “Somethin’ wrong, sweetheart?”
“I…” You hesitated. It wasn’t that you were nervous about her being in the car with you. No, it was something else. “I feel like I’ll degrade the value of your car if I get in…”
Ellie chuckled slightly before she watched you slide into the passenger seat and slowly closed the door behind you. The car smelled so clean, like leather polish and an air freshener. Your stomach twisted a little in you as Ellie quickly joined on your left side, kicking the car into gear and heading down the road.
“You’ll have to guide me there, sweetheart,” Ellie smiled, turning the heat on to a comfortable level and keeping both hands on the steering wheel. “You can turn on the radio if you want, I don’t mind.”
“I’m okay,” You mumbled, leaning back into your seat and pushing your face into the side of Ellie’s jacket. It kept you so warm, and it smelled so nice… You wish you knew more about its owner. You had climbed inside of this car, and you didn’t even know this bartender’s name. Your face turned a soft shade of pink as you looked over at the woman driving, and you felt your heart skip like rocks on a river.
She was beautiful… Absolutely breathtaking. The soft curve of her nose, those intense green eyes, the freckles that dappled her cheeks and forehead, the various tiny scars littering her skin, and the intense scar over her eyebrow; the shade of her hair tied back in that half up, half down fashion, the sharpness of her jawline, the slight pout of her top lip…
If you had met her before tonight… someone would need to drag you out of the bar kicking and screaming to get you to leave her alone. And then, your thoughts wandered to the blonde bouncer that spotted what happened in the first place. What was her name?
That woman was… wow. You remembered how her brows creased when she first approached you. The warmth of her veined, massive hand that closed around your wrist. You could feel her strength without it even being shown, as she was so gentle and caring with you even though her job was to be the enforcer. The caress of said hand against your cheek in the cold weather outside, how she smiled when you two talked so casually, the way her bottom lip snagged under her teeth when she bit it to try and hold back a giggle… Fuck, they were both hot!
Before you knew it, Ellie was pulling up to your apartment building. You frowned for a second and glanced over at her before reaching into the top of your dress to pull out a collection of bills that you prepared for tonight. There was about $150 stashed away inside your bra and Ellie did not miss you removing it either. She blushed a deep crimson and bit down on her lip as you flipped through the bills and attempted to hand her a $20. “That should cover the gas to get me here, right?”
Ellie gave a breathy chuckle, smiling and closing her eyes for a brief second. The sound of her deep, grumbly laugh had you squirming in your seat. “Don��t worry about that, sweetheart. Knowing you are home, safe and sound is payment enough for me.”
And just like that, you were back to turning red. You bit down on your bottom lip and tucked the money back into your bra, inhaling deeply and going to step out of the car before Ellie was ripping off her seatbelt and nearly jumping over the jeep’s hood to get to your door in time. She opened it up and offered her hand for you, which you accepted without question this time around.
“Allow me, miss,” She smirked, winking at you as she walked you inside of the building and towards your door on the third floor. As soon as you reached the apartment door, you fumbled with your keys for a brief second before turning around and looking at Ellie who tucked both hands into her pocket.
Honestly, you expected for things to go south… after the night you had, it would make perfect sense for shit to go wrong right now, right? But Ellie was true to her word. She kept her hands to herself and stayed a person’s length away from you at all times, only admiring you with her eyes. Before you could fully step inside your apartment, you immediately jumped in place.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Very slowly, you pulled Ellie’s jacket off your shoulders and handed it back to her. She accepted the leather wordlessly and tucked it over her arm. “Thank you… I… I don’t even know your name, miss.”
“Ellie,” She bowed her head, that loose lock of auburn hair falling in front of her face for a second before she tucked it back behind her ear. She held her hand out for you to take, which you did without realizing and then, you were blushing once more!
The bartender bent down and pressed a kiss to your knuckles, like you were a princess. Her lips were soft and gentle as she kissed your skin and then immediately released your hand, looking up at you and bowing her head with respect. “Goodnight, sweetheart. I’m happy you’re safe and that we were able to help you.”
And as quick as she was in your life, she was getting on the elevator and leaving without another word. You leaned against the door and frowned, putting a hand over your chest to try and still your fast beating heart. “Goodbye… Ellie…”
XxXxXxXxXx
Abby looked up from the phone, her hair still damp and dark after her shower. The front door opened up and she watched Ellie drop the keys on the table next to the entrance and slam her entire body against the wooden surface to shut it behind her. Ellie had this silly little smile on her face and Abby just rolled her eyes and leaned back. “You didn’t make her uncomfortable, did you?”
“I don’t think I did,” Ellie draped her jacket over the back of the reclining chair and flopped down next to Abby, leaning up and gently kissing her cheek. “Tonight, was definitely one of the more exciting ones, yeah?”
“Your tellin’ me,” Abby rolled her shoulders a bit as she looked at her phone, double checking to make sure she wasn’t on schedule tomorrow. She and Ellie had the day off together, which was a luxury few could afford due to the holiday. “Gotta go in tomorrow to pick up my paycheck though, that sucks.”
“Before open, babe,” Ellie said, standing back up and slowly unbuttoning her white shirt, untucking it from her dark denim jeans and tossing it onto the couch next to Abby who immediately locked her phone just to watch the show. Ellie smirked, stripping her clothes off piece by piece until she was standing in just her sports bra and boxers. “I’m gonna shower, okay?”
Before Ellie could walk off, Abby was gently grabbing her hand. “Wait, hold on. I… I had uh… something I had to ask.”
“Yes?” Ellie smiled warmly.
“You remember when we talked about… having a uhm… you know, a polyamorous thing? Bringing another girl in with us?” Abby stumbled on her words, her cheeks heating up as she thought about you and how sickeningly adorable you were. “You think that uh… maybe she could—”
“Abby,” Ellie reached down and ran her entire hand across Abby’s cheek, rubbing her jawline and making the blonde lean hard into her touch. If she had a tail, it would be wagging. “If we ever see her again? Maybe. But we don’t even know if she’s into girls, or if she likes both of us.”
“Were we lookin’ at the same girl?” Abby chuckled. “She may as well have a bisexual flag tattoo on her forehead, El.”
“Okay, point taken,” Ellie smiled. You did give off bi vibes, and that was the only reason she felt confident enough to give you that hand kiss without pissing herself. And when you didn’t shove her away, it was a very good sign. “But still, she has to like us both… But I mean, not to brag, but I’m pretty sure she likes me more.”
Abby was on her feet in seconds, racing after Ellie as they both went into the bedroom where the shorter woman stepped into the bathroom. “I beg to differ! She only likes you more now because you got to flirt with her! That’s an unfair advantage—”
“Excuses, excuses,” Ellie mocked, sticking her tongue out and hopping into the shower to clean off the smell of alcohol from her skin. “If we see her again, I bet I take her out on a date before you do!”
“Oh, it is so on, Williams.”
“What’s the prize for the winner?” Abby didn’t even need to see Ellie to know she was smirking.
Abby grinned like a wolf. “Loser gets strapped.”
“Ooooh, almost want to lose now, baby.”
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