#bartender au!

[bangaveragewhitewine]

crazy-mad for you

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

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

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

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

Word count: 16.7 K

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

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

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

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

Dividers by me ✌️

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hey, hotshot.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Listen dickh-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Trip her? Oh. He means you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

The whiskey burns but you barely feel it. 

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

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

As you take another sip, the door swings open. 

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

“Hey, you okay?”

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

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

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

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

“Ed…”

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

Your jaw drops, “You’re blaming me?” 

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

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

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

The air between you is charged and heavy. 

I want to. What does that mean? 

Eddie covers himself quickly. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very gentle,” he murmurs. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nuh-uh. You like fries?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm. You gonna laugh at me?”

“Probably.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No. Definitely not. S’why I left.”

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

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

“Perv.”

“Witch.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Rum. And Coke.”

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

“Eddie. He was the owner.” 

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

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

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

“Jesus, the woman needs fries - stat.”

“And a Coke?”

“And a Coke.” 

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

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

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

“I’ve had worse.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You squeeze his hand, he squeezes back.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“D’you hate it?” you ask carefully.

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

His smile makes your tummy flutter. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You’re feeling brave. Eddie is too. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You muffle your laugh against his black t-shirt. 

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

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

“Well then…” you say quietly. 

“Well then indeed…” Eddie echoes. 

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

“Eddie?” 

“Yeah?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You should be so lucky.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You gonna behave?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fuhhh- Eddie.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You feel unreal, baby.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[oneforthemunny]

take as needed |bouncer!eddie munson x bartender!reader|

prompt: a hectic week at the hideout has you burnt out, fed up, and on the path of destruction. eddie is in your path, and tries to course correct.

contains: minors dni. smut. dom!eddie x sub!reader tones this time. soft!dom!eddie. emotional release spanking. masturbation male. angst, fighting, they're kinda mean to each other but ends in fluff. based off this blurb from a while ago.

"Behind you." Veronica held the beers over you, shimmying through the crowded back area towards her customers at the end of the bar.

It was way too busy for The Hideout- for Hawkins. College was out for the summertime, all the college kids that fled as fast as they could after graduation were dragged back for the summer. Most of them would rather be at some stuffy bar that with their families, and you couldn't blame them, so they found there way here. On a Friday night, slammed and the karaoke machine in full effect from nine til midnight. Thankfully, you got off at ten, only an hour of enduring the screeching off note wails of the drunken patrons.

"Great song choice, man. Super metal." You looked up to see Eddie, all black even in the summer heat, sliding behind the bar, fist bumping the drunk kid who'd belted Welcome to the Jungle complete with the filthy moans into the mic. It had made everyone laugh, hoot and yell out encouragements at him. Everyone but you, it just irritated you.

"Hey there, pretty girl." Eddie muttered, grabbing your waist while he slid past you. "When you get a chance, can you make me a drink, please?"

"I'm super busy right now, Ed." You huffed, fishing a pen out of your back pocket, setting it on the bar for the drunk sorority girl to sign.

"I know, baby," Eddie cooed, ringed hands rubbing down you arms gently. You knew the act was to soothe you, calm you down, but it did nothing to relax you, only pissing you off further. "Whenever you get a chance. 'm on my break. You need any help? Wha'dya need me to do? How can I help?"

"No." You grit, shoving the ice scoop into the clumped, melting ice with a rather hard shove. "Can you just get out from behind here? It's crowded enough, Ed. 'M boiling and you're in my way."

"Easy, ease up." Eddie frowned at you. "Just trying to see if you need any help."

"I'm fine." You slammed the glass down on the counter, Veronica's eyes cutting over towards you carefully. You'd been on edge all night, frustrated and annoyed from the moment you walked in, such a contrast to your usual very sweet and bubbly demeanor. The customers seemed to notice too, seeing as your tips were practically cut in half, even on a busy night.

You tilted the bottle up, not even bother to properly measure the amount of vodka you were dousing into the drink. Veronica raised her brows at Eddie, shaking her head gently. You pressed the lemonade tap before turning to him. "I'll make your drink if I have time."

"I got it." Veronica offered, pulling two glasses out. "What do you want, Ed-"

"-I can make it, Veronica." You sneered, jamming a straw in the drink and adding it to the tab. "Just gimme a goddam second."

"Hey," Eddie's eyes narrowed at you. "What's gotten into you? Take a fucking chill pill and relax."

"I am relaxed." You sneered, slamming the drink on the counter in front of the wide eyed girl. "You are pissing me off."

"Hey, the both of you," Ellen huffed from her place behind you. "Why don't you both go on your fifteen." She suggested. "Cool off, alright?"

Eddie didn't give you a chance to protest, wrapping his arm around your bicep lightly, dragging you back towards the kitchen. You grumbled the whole way, whining about your tips, scuffing your feet along the sticky tile, until Eddie pushed the back door open.

"...and fucking Veronica has been taking all the regulars tonight, and I get all these young fucks who don't tip. Fucking bitch, like, she knows that's not fair-"

"-What is your problem tonight?" Eddie frowned.

You blinked, a scoff leaving your lips. "Me? What's my problem? Are you- are you fucking serious?"

"Yeah. You're being mean tonight. What's going on?" Eddie's jaw clenched, teeth grinding together.

"Oh, fuck you, Eddie. I am not being fucking mean, you're such a-"

"Hey," His ringed hand caught your jaw easily, light but firm. "Enough of whatever you're pissed about, alright? You gotta get yourself together. You're being mean to everyone. Not a good look. Killing the vibe, babe."

Your lips pursed, shoving him off of you. "You're a fucking piece of shit, you know that?" You sneered, reaching for the handle of the door. "I'm killing the vibe- fuck you! I'll kill the vibe if I want to."

Eddie's hand smacked onto the door, shutting it before you opened it completely. "What has got you acting like this?" Eddie demanded. You shoved him again, reaching for the handle. "Hey, stop it. I'm being serious, alright? Did someone mess with you? You're supposed to tell me or Ellen. I'll take care of them you know I will. Won't let them mess with you. Just- Can you tell me what's going on with you. Why are you being so mean tonight?"

"You're so fucking annoying." You huffed. "Nothing it wrong with me. You're just pissing me off."

"Yeah? Well, you're pissin' me off, too." Eddie snapped. You faltered at his biting tone. "Pissing me off, and everybody else off with your horrible little attitude."

"I don't have an attitude." You mumbled.

Eddie scoffed. "Yeah fucking right. You've been awful all night, and honestly, I'm sick of it. So is everyone else, so you better stop it now. Alright?"

It was your turn to scoff, a heavy eye roll accompanied. "Yeah? Or what? Huh? What the fuck are you or anyone else gonna do huh? Send me home? Cut me? Please, be my fucking guest."

Eddie moved, pinning you to the door, hands on yours, closing around them firmly. "If you don't quit acting so bitchy and mean, then I'm gonna treat you mean. Give you a taste of your own medicine." Eddie growled, eyes pointed in a fiery glare that had your knees buckling.

"You got me? Keep this shitty little attitude up, and I'm gonna drag you to the back and give you an attitude adjustment. That what you want?"

Your heart jumped at the threat, tummy flipping and pooling with warmth. "Y-You're not going to-" Your voice shook, Eddie's challenging look cutting you off further.

"No? You sure? You really think I won't? Keep it up." Eddie snarled, letting your hands go. "I'm sure everyone would love to see you get put in your place after how awful you've been tonight."

You let out a shuddering breath, watching him reach for his reds, sifting through the pack, curls falling in front of his face. Eddie turned to you, cigarette around his lips. "What?" He asked, flicking the lighter. "You want one?"

Your nose scrunched, grabbing the door handle and yanking it open furiously. Eddie rolled his neck, inhaling deeply. It was going to be a long night.

Though your attitude subdued through most of the night, enough that at least you weren't so hateful outwardly, not slinging mean comments. Instead, you took to glaring, shooting daggers at Eddie. Thankfully, the bar died down enough for the two of you to go home in time, Ellen giving Eddie a wary look over your head while you wrote your time.

"Fuckin' asshole." You sneered, sifting through the wadded bills, flicking the cash into the drawer.

"What's wrong?" Ellen asked, passing the check to the group of girls across the bar.

"That jackass only tipped a dollar." You grit, tucking the singular bill into your bra. "Six beers and four shots, and he tips a dollar? What a piece of shit."

Ellen's lips pursed. "Well, maybe if you were nicer-"

"-I was nice." You snapped defensively.

Eddie's shoulders tensed at your tone, even from his place by the door he could hear it, much clearer now that the place had started to clear out.

Ellen's brow raised, looking at you then to Eddie. He could feel his face flush, mortified at your attitude. "You know what? It's died down, and you..." Ellen shook her head. "Veronica and I can close up tonight. You can go home early."

You scoffed, dumping the glasses into the tray. "I don't have a ride. I came with Eddie. It's fine, I'll start the-"

"-No, Ed!" Ellen waved him over. "You two go home early, alright? Last calls in an hour, it's dying down. We got it."

Eddie wanted to die, melt into the floor. He felt like he was in grade school again, getting in trouble because someone was talking to him, grouped in with the trouble when he was innocent.

You didn't argue, huffing when you split the tips in the jar, stomping away towards the back. "Ellen, hey, I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with her tonight. I think she's just in a bad mood-"

"-That's an understatement, Munson." Ellen grumbled, eyes rolling. "Did you two fight or something on the way here?"

"No, we didn't-"

"-Because I'm glad you two are together. I think you're real cute, but if it's going to effect your work like this. I'll have to stop scheduling you two together." Ellen gave him a pointed look. "And that's really gonna be a pain in my ass."

Eddie swallowed, hands buzzing, twisting his rings nervously. "No, I get that. It won't- You don't need to do that. I'll get it under control. This was just a one time thing. She's just having a bad day."

Ellen held his gaze, a stern glare that had Eddie's heart picking up, cheeks burning with embarrassment. "I hope so. I'm choosing to believe you because I agree, that," Ellen waved towards the back where you were no doubt sulking. "Is out of character."

Eddie nodded, muttering a sigh filled apology. Ellen waved him off. "Hey just make sure you two are good on Tuesday, alright? We'll start fresh. Have a good weekend."

"You too. And you, Veronica, thank you." Eddie waved, pushing the swinging doors towards the back.

He found you next to the lockers, arms crossed and leaning against the wall, foot tapping in annoyance. "What took you so long?" You snapped.

Eddie flinched, blinking back at you in disbelief. "What?"

"I've been waiting. It took you forever." You huffed. "You usually run out of here and tonight, when I'm already in a bad mood, you take forever? Are you just trying to piss me off?"

"Are you?" Eddie snapped. Your eyes widened, face falling at his tone, furious, annoyed.

"What?" You swallowed.

Eddie shook his head at you, grabbing the lock on his locker, spinning the combination. "You're..." Eddie scoffed lightly.

"What? I'm what?" You clicked your tongue in annoyance.

"You're being a real asshole tonight." Eddie looked over his shoulder at you. "Embarrassing, acting like this. Getting sent home early? How are you not embarrassed?"

Heat filled your chest, heavy and suffocating, different that the bubbling rage from before. "I thought you'd be ready to crawl in a hole after Ellen sent you home." Eddie flung the metal door open, letting it hit the others with a loud clank! that had you flinching.

"Then you get me sent home too, and you've got the fucking audacity to be mean? To talk to me like that?" Eddie glared at you over his shoulder. Your frame shrunk, heart pounding in your ears. It was the most subdued you'd been all night.

"I-I didn't get you sent home-"

"-The fuck you didn't." Eddie scoffed, grabbing his keys, his wallet out of the locker, smacking it shut. "You wanna know what was taking to long? I was talking to Ellen. She was telling me if we can't keep our personal life out of work, we can't work together. I was trying to tell her that we didn't get into a fight, and she didn't believe me."

Eddie took a step towards you, time card in hand. "She couldn't believe you were just mean like that unprovoked." Eddie shoved the card in the clock. "So what? You mad at me? Is that what's going on?"

"No." You muttered, looking down at your beat up sneakers, covered with sticky stains from the night.

"So what then? Care to tell me what's wrong? I mean, shit, we're getting sent home now. Feel like you should let me in on what's goin' on." Eddie threw his hands up, keys rattling between his fingers.

"Nothing's wrong-" You sneered, barely registering the ringed hand that caught your chin. Fingers squeezing your cheek in a firm grasp, pulling your gaze to Eddie's.

His eyes lidded, nostrils flaring down at you. "You better watch it." Eddie gritted. "Keep this shit up, and I'll lock that door and fix that attitude in here."

Your tummy flipped, swallowing thickly around the lump in your throat. Agitation fizzled into arousal at the threat. You cursed yourself for feeling that way.

Eddie's eyes squinted, head tipping towards yours slightly. "That what you want?" He huffed, hand still firm on your cheeks. "You acted like this because you wanted me to be mean to you-"

"-No." You sneered, wiggling in his grasp, scared he could feel your cheeks burning with embarrassment. "That's not why."

"So tell me why." Eddie's hand loosened, eyes still pinning you with his gaze. "Tell me what's goin' on."

Your chest sunk with a heavy guilt. Burnt out from tireless hours of work, cranky from lack of sleep, annoyed that Ellen let Pat off for the week when the place had never been busier. All of it eating away at you throughout the week until you finally snapped.

"I just wanna go home." Your tone was softer than before, still teetering on huffy. "I don't want to be in this place for another second. I'm so sick of being here."

Eddie nodded, tongue sliding over his teeth. Keys clenched in his hand, he stayed silent. The car ride uncomfortable silent, neither of you speaking first, the hum of the radio the only refuge.

"You gonna tell me what's going on?" Eddie broke the silence after nearly an hour. The two of you had gotten back to his trailer, going your separate ways to cool down. He finished a cigarette on the steps, let you do whatever you needed to inside.

He found you by the sink, scrubbing your makeup off. Mascara and eyeliner smeared down your lids, normally, he'd laugh. Squeeze your sides and tell you how metal you looked, silly and playful until you were giggling with him.

Not tonight.

A part of you wished he would have. It would have made you feel better.

That gnawing feeling of uncomfortableness was eating you alive from the inside out. Had your chest feeling tight, skin crawling with irritation. It had only grown worse, now that you were left to reflect on the night- on how you acted.

Eddie moved into the mirror behind you, pulling his shirt off, tossing it in the hamper. You brought the wash cloth back to your face, cleaning the smeared makeup from under your eyes.

Eddie's shoulders slumped. "C'mon." He sighed, softer this time. "What's wrong, baby?" His hands slid over your arms, pressing a small kiss to your shoulder. "Tell me what's goin' on. I know something's wrong."

Your nose burned, pressing the warm washcloth to it. "I don't know." You muttered, opening the mirror, plucking the faded lilac case from the shelf.

"I just... I don't know." Your eyes rounded, locking with Eddie's through the mirror. "I just- I don't know how to describe it. I just feel off?"

Eddie nodded slowly, hands resting on your back gently. "Off, how?" Eddie hummed, arms wrapping around your body, pulling you into him. You didn't fight him, melting into his embrace instead. "Tell me what's wrong, honey. I just want you to feel better."

Your head tilted back to his chest, his arms heavy over your frame. "Just off." You muttered. "I feel like I need to just get everything out. Hit the reset button because I'm just so- so, bleh."

Eddie's lips curled gently, swaying you lightly in his arms. "I just am, like, unsettled. I'm so tired from work, but then I get home and I can't sleep, and then people are so fuckin' rude-"

"-Who's rude to you?" Eddie pressed, frowning behind you.

"Just the kids." You roll your eyes, shoulders tensing. "Snotty college kids. They think they're better than you or something."

"So come get me when they do that." Eddie's chin hooked over your shoulder lightly. "I'll take care of them. Kick 'em out."

"Then we'd have nobody." You shook your head lightly. "It's just- I don't know. I just feel really off." You paused, craning your neck to look at Eddie. "I feel like I need to get it all out."

Eddie stilled. "You-You want me to help you with that?" He knew what you were asking. "You want me to... To spank you?" It wasn't the first time you'd done this, still his cheeks burned at the word.

Your sex life was far from vanilla, teetering on outright debaucherous at times. He was no stranger to being mean to you in the bedroom, just like you weren't to him. Still, when you'd asked him the first time, to give you emotional release in this way, it felt a little odd to him at times. To bring pain to you, even if you asked, when all he wanted to do was smother you with affection.

Still, he'd do anything for you. You knew that, he did too.

It was why he swayed so easily. Your eyes rounding, lashes batting so sweetly up at him. "It really would help me feel better." His heart skipped, a sweet tone he'd been longing for all night. "I really think it would help."

Eddie nodded, hands sliding down your arms again, squeezing your elbows gently. You picked the hairbrush off the counter, handing it to him, taking his free hand and guiding him to the bedroom.

He let you settle over his lap, wiggling until you felt comfortable, a pillow under your face. Eddie twirled the hair brush in his hand, fidgeting while you settled. It was still new. How hard did he hit in this scenario? Did he soothe you? Scold you? Say anything at all? When you were playing, it was easier. In a headspace that came naturally with the moment.

"Ok," You hummed, turning to look at him, cheek pressed to the pillow. "'m ready."

Eddie hesitated. "You- And you're gonna tell me, right? When you want me to stop?"

"Yes." You nodded gently. "Just don't stop until I'm crying."

Eddie's cock throbbed, a roller coaster like drop in his stomach at your words. "Baby, I'm serious-"

"-I am too." You frowned. "Eddie, I promise I will tell you if it's too much, but... just please? Until I'm crying then you can stop."

"O-Ok," Eddie's breath stuttered, hand smoothing over your pantie clad ass, cheeky cotton panties that had his brain trailing off. "I'm gonna, I'm starting."

You settled back into the pillow, Eddie's hand rubbing down your back soothingly. Your free hand snaked up, folding over the middle of your back, fingers wiggling at Eddie's. A sweet gesture that made his heart swell, interlocking his fingers with yours, pinning your hand gently to your back.

The hair brush's smooth wood pressed to your ass, tapping in a warning that had your hips clenching lightly. Eddie hesitated, bringing the hairbrush up, then lower, readjusting his aim, before letting it fall. A soft clap met with a tiny grunt from you.

"You can do harder than that, Ed." You muttered.

"Harder? Are you sure?" Eddie hoped you couldn't feel his heart beating. "I don't wanna hurt you when you're not feeling good, baby."

"You're not hurting me. You're helping me. I swear." You said softly, squeezing his hand gently, reassuringly. "You can do harder than that. I'll let you know if it's too much."

Eddie brought the hairbrush higher, sending it soaring down with a firm smack that had your breath hitching. He waited, your hips squirming in his lap.

"That was good. Just like that, Ed." You whispered, taking a deep breath in through the burn in your nose.

Two identical hits fell to each of your cheeks, a tiny squeak of a cry coming from you. Your grip tightening against his hand with every fall of the hairbrush. Eddie was more confident, fell into a rhythm that felt more comfortable.

Hips wiggling, tiny whimpers and cries coming from you, rotating from cheek to cheek, lower then higher. Eddie brought the hairbrush down, a flick in his wrist that was sharper, stinging against your skin.

A tiny hitch, a sniffle that sounded watery had his ears perking. Eddie paused, feeling the hitch in your chest. "Keep going." You gritted, a white knuckled grip around his hand. "Keep going, Ed. Please."

Eddie brought the hair brush down again, twice, sharp flicks that had you crying out- a real cry, broken and breathy. Unsure, Eddie shushed you sweetly, letting the hair brush fall onto your upturned ass again.

"Shh, it's alright. You're doin' good, sweetheart. Let it out." Eddie rasped, cracking the hairbrush down again. "Doin' good for me."

The next fall of the hairbrush had a cry breaking though your throat, tears springing in your waterline, threatening to fall. The bubble in your chest filling fuller and fuller, close to bursting with the building irritation on your ass.

"You're doin' good. I know you've got to be feeling better." Eddie soothed. "You still good? Need me to stop."

"No," You cried, shaking your head. "K-Keep going, Eddie, please, keep going. D-Do it fast. Fast ones."

Eddie let the hair bursh rain down in quick successions, all over your ass, sharp smacks that had you gritting your teeth in irritation, eyes clenching shut until finally, you felt a wave wash over you. Heavy with emotions, it crashed into you, body shaking in sobs.

Face pressed into the pillow, you cried into the soft cotton, rubbing your face against the pillow case to soothe yourself. Eddie slowed, stopping when your hand loosened in his, body slack and shaking with sobs.

Eddie held you, arms tight around you though it felt like it was more for him. Soft coos and whispers, a hand rubbing down your spine. He hoped you couldn't feel his erection pressing into you. He felt torn, arousal he couldn't help but felt wrong when you were crying. Sobs so deep, stuttering in your chest and rocking your frame.

He hadn't realized how exhausted you were, a pang of guilt ringing through his chest when you started to slump in his arms. Usually, he'd get you calmed down, finish off the night between your legs, to make you feel better or maybe him.

Tonight, he let you settling into the mattress, rolling you onto your side, tucking the pillow under your knees, how you always slept. He wasn't sure how it was comfortable, teased you about it the first time he saw it. "It helps with my back, I swear." You had giggled, hiking a leg up over the pillow and settling into the mattress. Eddie didn't care how you slept, honestly, if it meant you'd sleep next to him.

Settling you under the blankets, Eddie carried the hair brush back into the bathroom, setting it back on the vanity's counter. He pulled the Jergens off the shelf, hand wrapping around his length, relieving himself. Tomorrow, he'd take care of you, spend the day in bed with you if you wanted, hopeful but certain that you'd be better in the morning.

#oneforthemunny #munnytalks #bouncer!eddie #bouncer!eddie munson #bouncer!eddie munson x bartender!reader #bouncer!eddie munson moodboard #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson au #eddie munson au #soft dom!eddie munson #dom!eddie #dom!eddie munson x reader #dom!eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie stranger things #eddie my love <3 #eddie x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #stranger things #stranger things 4 #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x you #the hideout

[moonstruckme]

you talked about bartender!sirius in a previous post and omg i can't stop thinking about it!!! could you do a fic with costumer!reader and him being all flirty and stuff (maybe even angst where reader is really drunk or has come to drink all her problems away or someone icky is hitting on her or smth?? idk i trust your judgement<3)

litterly giggling and kicking my feet just thinking about it😭🤭

Thanks for requesting gorgeous <3

cw: alcohol

bartender!Sirius x fem!reader ♡ 1.4k words

There are three people working the bar, and you have basically no hope of ever capturing one’s attention. You’re not as assertive as the other patrons vying to get their orders taken, not willing to lean across the bar or shout like they are and perfectly willing to let yourself be pushed out of the way when one of them decides their cause is more prevalent than yours. It probably is. This pub is noisier and more rowdy than you’re accustomed to, and you’re not much of a drinker to begin with, only trying to pay your tax to sit with the friend that invited you here. You’re considering abandoning the endeavor entirely when the next man shouldering you out of the way gets waved off by the bartender nearest. 

“Oi, she was here first.” 

The bartender’s gaze fixes pointedly on you, which is kind of a lot. He has sharp gray eyes paired with superblack hair—like, the kind of black no light can penetrate—and a crooked smile, a handsome and somewhat menacing combination. He leans across the bar, lowering his voice as if he can tell that’s what you’d prefer. 

“What can I get you, doll?” 

You fumble for your tongue. “Um, can I have a citrus spritz, please?” 

He grimaces. “Wish you could,” he says, “but we just ran out of that gin. Got a second choice?” 

“Oh, uh...” You’d only found your first choice after perusing their menu and asking your friend what each thing was, so no, you do not. You take a step back from the bar, yielding your time. “Sorry, I’ll have to—” 

“No, come on, it’s alright.” The bartender doesn’t move, but his voice is loud enough that it reaches you, gets you to turn around. He’s on you with that smile again, one hand beckoning you towards him. “We’ll figure something out for you, sweetheart. Come back here.” 

You step up to the bar stiffly, more than aware of the irritated looks being shot your way by other patrons. 

“What do you like?” he asks you. 

You feel your eyebrows pinch, shaking your head helplessly. Your face feels like it could heat a small home. “I don’t—I’m not sure, sorry.” 

“You’re alright,” he promises, grin vanishing for a moment as he cuts a glare towards a man trying to talk over you. It’s back before you can miss it. “A sweet kinda drink, yeah? Fruity? D’you want something else with citrus?” 

“That sounds good,” you manage.

He winks and pushes off the bar. “Stay put, babe, I’ve gotcha.” 

You do your best, keeping your front pressed to the bar even as everyone else moves around and into you. You feel like a rock in a stream. With no one else to talk to, you watch him work behind the bar. He grabs a bunch of bottles at once, pouring without measuring or counting or hardly even looking, and when he starts shaking it all in a metal cylinder you have to look away from how his tattooed biceps bulge from the short sleeves of his shirt. You’re scanning the rows of liquor behind the bar when he gets back, trying to will the warmth away from your face. 

“Give this a try.” He sets the drink down in front of you. You notice it’s got a bit of dried fruit on top, and then he sets a small shot glass of something bubbly and transparent down next to it—you wince. A garnish and a side; probably not as cheap as you were hoping for. “If you don’t like it,” he says, glancing between you and the drink expectantly, “don’t tell me. Just bring it to the bathroom and flush it. My ego can’t take the rejection.” 

You press your lips together into something you hope approximates a smile and take a careful sip. It is sweet. You can barely taste the alcohol. You rub your lips together as you set it down, hoping you haven’t gotten foam on your mouth. 

“It’s really good,” you tell him honestly, and he grins in response. You raise it to your lips for more. “What is it?” 

“A pornstar martini.” 

You nearly spit foam right at him, somehow reversing at the last moment so you take in a hearty sip instead. His grin widens, showing canines, like he knew the effect the name would have on you. It should make you feel childish, but he doesn’t seem like he’s laughing at you so much as with you. 

“It’s good,” you say again, taking out your card. “Thank you.” 

He holds up his hands, stepping away from your credit card like it’s a weapon. “Put that thing away,” he says. “You’re insulting me, dollface.” 

You let your card hover in the air between you, unsure. “I can’t let you—”

“Sure you can. You have to,” he insists, setting both hands on the bar and leveling you with a significant look. You can’t look back for more than a second before your gaze flees downward. “If I can’t comp a pretty girl’s drink, what am I doing here?” He lowers his voice, leaning across the bar so his face is just a few inches from yours. “And if I can’t add a pretty girl’s drink to a tosser’s tab—” he flicks his gaze over to the man who’s been especially persistent in trying to get his order in over yours since you’ve come up “—then I may as well quit.”

You press your lips together, trying desperately to keep from looking as flattered and flustered as you feel. 

“You don’t want to leave me without purpose, do you?” 

“No.” You smile down at the bar, privately rolling your eyes. When you glance back up, there’s a waggishness in his eyes that suggests he saw. “Thanks.” 

“Thank you. Have a good night.” 

“You too.” 

You turn, starting back for your table, but stall a couple of steps in. Your seat’s been taken by a man around your age, all smiley and nodding as your friend talks. They’ve both got their elbows leaned on the table, eyes locked like they’re in some sort of competition. And you may not spend a lot of time in pubs, but you know enough to stay away when two people are looking at each other like that. 

You stand awkwardly on the fringes of the bar crowd, looking around for another empty table, but it’s too crowded tonight; there are none. You consider dropping by to tell your friend you’re leaving, but now you’ve got this full drink in your hand. Maybe if you finish it quickly…

“Hey!” You pivot, and the same bartender is looking at you again, craning his neck to see you over the crowd. “Hey,” he all but shouts to be heard, “come here.” 

You’re nothing if not obedient, working your way through the crowd with murmured apologies and your eyes on the ground to ensure you don’t step on anyone’s toes. When you get up to the bar, he’s waiting for you, holding up a hand to pause the man—the tosser, he’d dubbed him—trying to talk to him. You wonder if he’d halted his order halfway through. 

“What’s going on?” he asks, eyebrows twitching together. “You looked lost over there, babe.”

“Sorry,” you say, though you’re not sure what for. “I just—my seat was taken, so I was just trying to figure out—”

“You can sit here.” 

You blink, and he motions to the stools tucked under the bar in front of you, the ones nobody’s using. “I mean, you don’t have to,” he says, the closest thing to hesitant you’ve seen from him yet, “but you’re welcome to. I could use some good-looking company. We’re severely lacking over here.” 

“Fuck off,” says another bartender, skimming behind him to grab a bottle off a shelf. 

“Not counting you, Marls.” He shoots a sharp-edged grin towards the blond woman before fixing it back on you. His eyebrow twitches slightly in question. 

“Okay.” You pull a seat out. “Okay, thanks.” 

“Don’t thank me, doll, you’re doing me a favor.” He sets his forearms on the bar, leaning towards you like you’re having a far more private conversation. “I’m Sirius.” Something about him softens when you tell him your name in response, and you get the sense he’s been waiting for it. He repeats it back to you like it’s something special. “Alright, y/n, enjoy your drink, and I’ll try to be as decent company as I can while dealing with these pricks.” He makes no effort to keep the man beside you from hearing, then turns to him with an extremely false-looking smile. “Hi, what can I get you?” 

Even as the man starts giving his order, Sirius’ eyes flicker your way to see if he made you smile. He did.

#bartender!sirius #sirius black au #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black x fem!reader #sirius black x y/n #sirius black x you #sirius black x self insert #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black fanfic #sirius black fic #sirius black fluff #sirius black imagine #sirius black scenario #sirius black blurb #sirius black drabble #sirius black oneshot #sirius black one shot #marauders #the marauders #marauders era #marauders fandom #marauders fanfiction #hp marauders #marauders x reader

[martiniluvr]

18+ minors dni

★・・・★・・・★・・・★

bartender!dick grayson who spots you leaning against the bar one night in a tantalising red dress, trying to shrug off some drunk loser who keeps insisting you let him buy you a drink. dick steps in to suggest that maybe the guy’s had enough for one night, and it’s time to head home. he pauses there, but his eyes finish the sentiment—leave, or I’ll make you.

bartender!dick grayson who gets to chatting with you once the asshole’s gone, quickly realising you two have some pretty serious chemistry. he offers to make you a dirty vodka martini, claiming it’s his specialty. “it’s on the house,” he promises with a wink.

bartender!dick grayson whose eyes darken slightly as he watches your lips tease the rim of the glass, barely noticing the way you’re staring at his black t-shirt pulled taut over his muscular frame. your skin is hot, and you don’t think it’s from the vodka. he tells you he’s off at 11:30, a suggestive smirk on his face.

bartender!dick grayson who leaves sloppy kisses down your neck as soon as you’re through his apartment door. his large hands roam your body and squeeze the soft flesh of your ass, holding you flush against his muscular torso.

bartender!dick grayson who has your legs around his head within minutes of getting you sprawled out on his bed, your pretty red dress crumpled up around your waist as he devours your needy cunt with all the ferocity of a starved lion.

bartender!dick grayson who turns you over to fuck you from behind, just so he can watch your glossy pussy grip his cock like a vice as he pulls out of you slowly, before sinking back into you hard. he groans at the filthy sounds you make for him, gripping your hips to ground himself.

bartender!dick grayson who gives you the best orgasm you’ve ever had, even though you’ve known him for less than three hours. he talks you through it as you tremble around his length, his tone almost cocky—“fuck, look at you, sweetheart. feels good, doesn’t it? all for me, huh?”

bartender!dick grayson who grits his teeth as he pulls out of you to cum over your pretty ass, knowing he’d much rather fill you up and watch you drip instead. maybe next time, he tells himself with a smirk, knowing you’ll be back again for more.

#this au has been consuming me I had to share #side note #is there a sluttier job than male bartender? #the answer is no #dick grayson #dick grayson smut #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson x you #nightwing #nightwing smut #nightwing x reader #nightwing x you #dc comics #batman #batfam

[kingzombear]

can u please draw more ragapom?? ur my fav artist on here like deadass.

AH SHUCKS, YOU HUSH <3 tysm hon

I lost the ask but someone wanted me to draw @nebulaickiwi 's Singer x Bartender AU sooooo, happy post-Valentines yuri 💘

Drunk Rags is a fliiiiiiiiiiiiiirt

#if u sent me a ragapom au request i PROMISE imma get to it hon <3 #analog horror ragapom is next teehee #tadc #ragapom #pomni x ragatha #ragatha x pomni #bear king draws #bear king speaks #tadc singer x bartender au #jesterdoll #buttonblossom #tadc au #ragapom au #tadc pomni #tadc ragatha #doomed circus yuri #doomed digital yuri

[eldritch-thrumming]

what, like it’s hard?, pt. one

“it’s just that… if i want to win a seat in congress by the time i’m thirty, i need to find someone who’s serious about my career. not some little elementary school teacher that cares more about his students than what he’s wearing on my campaign stops,” tommy tells steve, as they’re sitting in quite possibly the fanciest restaurant steve’s ever step foot in. the menu hadn’t even included any prices.

“but… i’m seriously in love with you.” steve feels like his whole world is falling apart. just last week he’d been so sure that tommy was getting ready to propose. he’d introduced steve to his family—they’d spent a week out on martha’s vineyard for a family reunion at which steve had met tommy’s great-grandmother, hands laden with rings as she’d winked when tommy had asked for a private conversation. steve had been so sure that conversation was about the family ring.

“and i love you too, baby, but look. you don’t want to have to leave your students for half the year to come on the campaign trail with me, do you?” tommy asks, not even really looking at steve. he continues to just eat his stupid dinner as if he’s not ripping steve’s heart out at this very moment.

and steve can’t help but think how silly this all is, because it’s not like tommy’s actually running for anything right now. steve doesn’t even teach yet, beyond the two days a week he does his student teaching. they’re only 22, they haven’t even graduated northwestern with their bachelors degrees! but tommy’s saying these things as if they’re all real, right now.

“and i’m off to harvard next fall. it’s not like we’ll stay together while i’m there and you’re still here, right?”

and the thing is, steve had actually thought he’d be going with tommy to boston. they’re both set to graduate in the spring, steve with his degree in education and tommy with a dual major in pre-law and political science. they hadn’t really ever talked about it, but they’d been together since the beginning of their sophomore year. so yes, steve had thought they’d still be together when tommy started at harvard law.

but now steve’s starting to feel extra stupid.

“so… what? you’re breaking up with me?” steve starts to feel his chest tightening, like he might cry. he can’t believe that two hours ago he thought he’d been getting ready for a proposal.

“don’t think of it as a breakup, stevie… think of it as a conscious uncoupling. we’re just moving in two different directions. i’ll be at harvard law next semester and you’ll be…” tommy gives him a look of slight disdain—steve has never seen tommy look at him like that. waitstaff? sure. his driver? absolutely. but it’s never been directed at steve before. “well, you’ll be teaching snot-nosed six year olds. we’re on different paths.”

and that’s what truly makes steve’s blood boil. his passion for teaching and education is one of his greatest qualities and he’d thought that had been part of the reason tommy loved him. he didn’t realize that tommy loved him in spite of that. he’s not gonna let some asshole like tommy montgomery hagan iii tell him he’s no good.

so he doesn’t respond. he just takes the linen napkin off his lap and throws it on his half-eaten steak dinner and marches out of the restaurant.

tommy doesn’t even follow him out.

~*~

“oh steve… i’m sorry,” robin says to him about an hour later while steve lays his head in her lap on their dingy couch.

“it’s not even that he broke up with me,” he explains through tears. “it’s that he basically said i was worthless. like i couldn’t do anything better than teaching. as if teaching isn’t even an admirable profession! where would he be without his teachers, huh? isn’t this all about going to stupid harvard? what does he think the professors there actually do? knit?”

“is this a bad time to tell you that i always kind of hated him?” robin says, maybe trying to get him to laugh. but it kind of surprises steve. he sits up, knocking her hands from where they’ve been carding through his hair in the process.

“you did?! no, you didn’t.” he searches robin’s face for a moment and then sighs. “why didn’t you say anything? you could’ve saved me a whole lot of wasted time.”

“babe, you were so gooey-eyed for that guy, nothing i said was gonna change that. a crowbar couldn’t have pried you away from him. but you have to know he was an asshole.” when steve stares at her blankly, she huffs. “steve, he used to offer to cover the whole tab when we went out. how often did he ever actually pay, even for his own drinks? he made poor jonathan cry the last time we were all here for game night, just because jonathan asked for clarification on the rules for pictionary.” steve is still staring at her. “he tried to stiff argyle by offering him a flight on his dad’s private jet instead of paying for his weed and we all know he doesn’t even have access to the jet. dude was cheap as fuck and not even nice about it.”

steve thinks about it. it was kind of true. tommy was a horrible tipper—steve usually laid down a couple of twenties when they went to dinner together when tommy wasn’t looking. he can remember more than a few times where the guy had sent their food back even though it had looked perfectly wonderful to steve. so… okay, maybe robin had a point.

steve tells her as much, then adds, “but he was always nice to me.”

robin snorts. “are you kidding? he’s stood you up so many times i can’t even remember all of them. remember that time he said his first impression of you was that you weren’t as hot as your pictures? who says that to the person they’re dating?”

steve groans and lays his head back down in her lap.

“okay, so maybe you have a point about that too. but i was gonna marry him, rob. what do i do now?” he knows he’s whining, but he feels just a little bit entitled to it right now.

“i don’t know, babe. get over it, i guess. welcome to the world of us singles. it sucks out here.” steve can hear the fondness in robin’s voice as she says it, but still. it does sting just a little.

they sit there in silence for a while, with robin running her hands through his hair again. it’s so soothing that he almost jumps out of his skin when she speaks again.

“hey, you know what would be super funny?” she’s laughing a little as she says it.

“what?” steve had been dozing just a little and his voice sounds muffled by fatigue.

“if you got into harvard and just showed up on the first day. imagine the look on his face.”

steve laughs at how ridiculous that sounds. like he could get into harvard. plus, he’s got teaching to think about. he doesn’t have a place yet, but he knows he’ll get one soon.

but as he sits there with robin’s hands stroking through his hair, he begins to daydream about how shocked tommy would be. about how he’d have no choice but to eat his words when steve proves himself by getting into one of the most competitive programs in the country. about how good it would feel to prove the bastard wrong.

“robin?” she hums in response. “you’re a goddamn genius.”

~*~

“dingus, are you sure you want to do this?”

the spring semester starts in three days. it’s their last semester at northwestern and there’s nothing but great big darkness on the horizon of steve’s future. he hasn’t slept in two days, busy studying, thick workbooks piled around around him at the kitchen table. he knows what he must look like, over-caffeinated with bruises under his eyes.

“i’m sure.” steve has his lsat exam in one week. “i have to take the exam this week. apps are due by march first.”

“no, steve, i don’t mean taking the test. i mean applying at all. it’s clearly more stress than it’s worth. do you even want to go to law school?” robin sounds concerned and normally steve would think it’s very sweet, but currently it does nothing but irritate him.

“i could,” he responds grumpily.

robin sighs. “i just mean… is this worth it?”

steve looks up then and sees her biting her lip, clearly worried about him. he puts his pencil down and stops the timer on his phone, giving her his full attention.

“this isn’t just about tommy.” robin gives him a skeptical look and it’s his turn to sigh. “it’s really not. maybe it started out that way, maybe it was just a stupid joke to get revenge on the asshole, but now it’s more than that. it’s proving that i can do something unexpected of me.” he swallows. “no one even believed i would get into college. i was just some stupid jock in high school who’d never amount to anything. and then i got in to northwestern and i was so shocked and happy. but i found out that my dad had actually pulled a bunch of strings. so i hadn’t gotten in on my own merits. he didn’t think i could. but now…” he runs a hand through his hair nervously. he’s never said any of this out loud before. “he’s not around now. there’s no one to help me. no safety net. if i can do this, it’ll prove something to me. something that maybe i don’t really believe yet.”

he expects robin to say something about external validation being a corrupting force and identity built on academic achievement being solely a losing game, but she doesn’t. instead, she sits down across the table from him and picks up a workbook.

“okay,” she says. “what do we have to do?”

~*~

“mail here?” steve calls out when he hears the front door close behind robin.

there’s a moment that feels like a pause. “yeah, it’s here.”

steve practically sprints from his bedroom to his living room. robin holds a single white envelope in her hand. steve all but snatches it from her.

his fingers move to rip it open, but then he hesitates. he thrusts it back towards robin. “i can’t,” he tells her. “you do it.”

her eyebrows shoot up. “you’re sure?” steve nods. he watches her rip the envelope open, bouncing on his feet. she scans the page and then she’s smiling.

steve grabs the paper from her. “oh my god?!” he yells. “oh my god!”

robin practically jumps into his arms. “179, baby! harvard law here we come.”

~*~

even after such a successful run at the lsats, there’s still the little matter of actually getting in to the school. steve’s only experience with the academic application process was with undergrad and it appears that applying for anything beyond a bachelors degree is an entirely different ball game. he’s so out of his depth that he’s forced to turn to grad school message boards for advice and tips of how to get in. it seems like everyone else is applying to a hundred different schools while steve’s only applying to one. he learns this is a terrible strategy for planning one’s future, but that doesn’t really matter to steve. for him, it’s harvard or nothing.

there are so many different parts of the application that it makes steve’s head spin. there’s the statement of purpose and the personal statement—the difference between those two requires robin’s careful and slow explanation about three separate times. then there’s the writing sample and the application and the recommendations and the transcripts and and and

but with robin’s help, steve completes each component and successfully sends his materials by the day of the deadline.

steve’s never been a patient person. no one on earth would accuse him of that, so even he can tell that he’s getting on robin’s nerves every day as he practically pounces on her when she returns from collecting the mail.

and then one day, finally, at the end of april, she comes through the front door and clutched in her hand is a big, thick white envelope emblazoned with the words ‘harvard law’ in bold, beautiful crimson red.

~*~

“last chance to back out,” robin says smiling as she swings herself up into the passengers seat of their rented u-haul.

“nah.” steve returns her smile as he slides his sunglasses from his hair onto his face. “let’s get out of this dump.”

and with that, they leave their first apartment behind, headed to the coast.

[wanted to finish this completely before posting but my benadryls kicking in and i have no self control. eventual steddie, promise! no tag list for this one, sorry!! it’s giving me anxiety on the other one lol absolutely not edited, if u see a typo no u don’t. i wrote this on my phone in a feverish frenzy. also, i originally invented someone for the role of warner but then i was like ‘IDIOT!!!!! why would u not choose tommy?????’ so if there’s a name in here that shouldn’t be, no there isn’t.]

#the not as hot as ur pictures thing is a real thing my ex said to me after we’d been together for like six months lol called me ugly 😭 #legally blonde au #steddie #steddie fic #steddie legally blonde au #this will EVENTUALLY be steddie if i write more lol #robin buckley #steve harrington #platonic stobin #steddie fanfic #steddie ficlet #i’m setting it up!!!!! #eddie will be a bartender not a law guy sorry!!!! lawyer!eddie just don’t feel right to me #steddie fanfiction #steddie blurb #guess what i watched tonight #well i also watched mean girls lol #here have this half finished thing #i wanted to finish it before posting but

[llamagoddessofficial]

oh, this might he an idea only i've had!

the boys with a bartender s/o

i'm talking long-ass shifts, staying up til no-fucking-thank-you o'clock, that stuff

Sans: He gets constant laughs out of her. He's always the life of the bar, but anyone who knows him can tell he's trying extra hard around her and using only his best terrible jokes. The bunny monster who used to crush on him has stopped vying for his affections, because she can tell he's completely got his heart set on Mc. Though Mc still does have to harass him to pay his tab, his jokes have her ducking behind the bar to snort, or spilling drinks because she's not concentrating. He feels like he's won when she puts her head in her hands and tries to disguise her smile with a groan.

He goes there entirely for her. He used to go for the terrible food, but now he shows up for almost every shift just to see her. Grillby swats him over the skull and tells him to stop 'swooning over the staff'. He loves her smile and her eyes, he loves the way she talks to him, how she's not afraid to cut him off or dob him in to Papyrus over the phone. He has a shitty sleep schedule anyway, he doesn't mind aggravating her until the early hours of the morning.

Red: She's got a bit of a schoolgirl crush on him. He's funny, he's hot, he handles his alcohol like a champ, his flirtation is genuinely flattering. Despite looking like the sort who would grope her, even when he's absolutely shitfaced he's never leery or gross, he never makes her feel uncomfortable. Shitfaced Red makes her feel extremely pretty and interesting. One time when he was drunk, she spotted him nearly ogling her butt, but then quickly turning his eyelights up to the ceiling at the last second.

He also actively defends her at the bar; he throws hands with the idiots who get aggressive, to the point where people don't bother her anymore if Red is at the bar. The relief on her face when he takes a seat is clear as day.

... Look, he's not the kinda guy who fools himself into thinking the sweet smiling bartender genuinely likes him. But he can tell she does prefer him to the other guys. Any time things are slow, she'll come and talk to him, picking him over all her other regulars and even the other staff. It's his favourite place for a reason.

Skull: Not gonna lie, at first, she had really bad vibes from him. He'd stare at her for hours, get one drink, then stare for another few hours. She's had more than her fair share of weird guys who think they're her boyfriend because she used her customer service smile on them.

... One night, she was closing up the bar. Someone followed her out the door and cornered her, grabbing at her and not taking no. Skull showed up and knocked their fucking teeth out. Then, like the big quiet gentleman he is, he walked her to her car; once he made sure she was safe and okay, he left without a word.

Now he's her certified favourite. He's welcome anytime, and he gets drinks on the house. On top of that, now she knows he's not a bad guy, she's started looking past his scary exterior- and she's beginning to realise that underneath all the silence and scars and spooky glares, he's actually a big cute softie.

#llamagines #bartender au #i mean. skull DOES think hes her boyfriend #but at least he doesnt say it out loud

[colourstreakgryffin]

If we saw how Charlie and Alastor reacted to Rarity like!reader and Pinkie Pie like!reader,maybe a Fluttershy like!reader x Husk??

Idk I think they would be cute together

Haha. Awww, I can just imagine Husk carrying us away whilst we’re crying in fear over Charlie borrowing our little animal friends for the Hotel briefly! Needless to say, this is actually the cutest and one of my favourite MLP-Hazbin mix-couples/duos so far! And again, kinda short!

Husk- Glass Barfly

As I stated previously, Husk is a sweetheart of a lover and his patience is quite high so trust me. He can handle his precious timid helpless little girlfriend better than anybody else. Somebody who is so shy yet kind that she hides behind him for support, he is quite good

Of course, Husk can’t help but instinctively treat you like glass. The most beautiful glass figure he’s ever found. He knows what to do with you

Husk is emotionally intelligent and able to recognise problems very well. So, he can recognise your antisociality and your fear over coming off as a fool, for that, he’ll slowly and carefully push you into pushing your own boundaries for your own good

Husk is getting better and better with your animal friends. He isn’t perfect but he doesn’t ever harm them… well, not on purpose. He’s growing to handle how many they are and how often you carry around your hot-tempered bratty bunny, Devil

Husk finds you precious and he’d beat the shit out of Alastor with the bar itself to protect you. You’re a little fragile butterfly, a charming doll of kindness that loves her animals. It’s natural that he adores every fibre of your being. Others may get annoyed with your shyness, he doesn’t

You can fly like Husk and have wings like him. He is lazy and dislikes flying but he will fly to encourage you to use your wings more. They are soft and beautiful, you deserve to be able to rely on them. He wants you feel comfortable so he will make it that you are. Luckily, he always succeeds

Husk is quite proud everytime you stand up for yourself or you do something you’d never normally do without his push. You’re learning, you’re growing! He can’t help but feel his heart swell at it and he showers you with praise and pride as soon as he can

Husk is learning to be a good person whilst you’re learning to be more confident. You’re helping each other and for that, you’re both quite dedicated to each other. Husk is your armour but you’re his heart

Husk knows you like the functions of a roulette game. He knows when your patience has been pushed too far and when you’re willing to be firm, if not cruel and harsh, and when that happens. He doesn’t even try sway you, he steps back and waits for you to cool down before calming you even more

Husk is always covered in your animal friends. And always means always! He has birds, squirrels, bunnies, butterflies, all kinds of Hell animals following him about the Hotel and he knows that they like him as much as they like you

Husk enjoys snuggling you in bed after work hours. Wings perked overs yours and laid over your back. You’re warm, you’re safe and you’re covered in soft fur. Both you and him like this so every night. You hop into the bed you share with Husk and he hops on top of you

Husk is the only one who can and will hear you in your whole singing glory. You’re way too insecure to sing around anybody else and it took some time for you to be comfortable with him but now that you are, you feel confident and safe singing around him

Yep. Husk got you a cute ring with a pink butterfly-shaped gemstone in the middle. It’s, to you, a sign that he is your safe spot and always is your safe spot. The one you can not be so frightened of embarrassing yourself with, somebody you can lean on and feel supported with

Husk knows about your crippling fear of social situations and how easy it is to embarrass you so you two regularly just spend time together and not ever go out, not until you actually feel okay with it. But of course, you’ll always do stuff for him too. You both give and take from one another

If it is my choice, y’all are engaged

“Leitora, butterfly. Don’t worry, the little buds will be okay. Do you want to go back to our bedroom, we don’t have to watch anything Charlie does with ‘em”

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel characters #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel husk #vivziepop hazbin hotel #vivziepop #hazbin husk #hazbin husker #husker x reader #husk headcanons #husk #husker hazbin hotel #husk x reader #hazbin hotel imagines #hazbin hotel imagine #headcanons #boyfriend imagines #boyfriend #romantic husk #romantic husk x reader #romantic husker #romantic husker x reader #hazbin hotel au #romance headcanons #cute headcanons #good boyfriend be husk #bartender kitty #fluttershy reader is precious #tbh best couple!

[streysteal]

Something for the Bartender AU writers ~

#soapghost #digital illustration #mw2 #cod mw2 #ghostsoap #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish #soap mw2 #bartender AU

[five-and-dimes]

Thinking about human Dream as a bartender.

He’s quiet, stoic, which strangely adds character to the dramatics of his flair bartending. Each week he comes up with new cocktails- beautiful, colorful creations, each one unique but always delicious. He barely talks but will listen intently to any and every patron’s stories, soaking them up, the happy or sad or ridiculous drunken ramblings. 

Hob becomes a regular, always sitting right in front of the well so he can have a front row seat to every flipped bottle and color changing spirit. He tells the bartender all his best stories, considering it a victory any time he manages to get even the smallest reaction- a quirked eyebrow or a twitch of the lips. It takes ages for him to even learn Dream’s name (Dream listens, he doesn’t share) but he comes to think of him as a friend, even if he’s still working up the courage to ask if they could see each other when Dream’s not working (he knows better than to ask someone on a date while they’re on the clock, he’s not an animal).

(He doesn’t know it, but Dream has started trying to make drinks specifically for this particular regular, hoping to impress him, to make him smile. And if he indulges in the thought of knowing exactly what Hob’s mouth would taste like. Well. He makes drinks for himself, too.)

And Hob tells Dream all sorts of things about his life, but not everything, which makes it incredibly embarrassing when Johanna follows him to the bar one night and very loudly announces “Why the hell do you come here when you own a damn pub?” 

Dream snaps to stare at him, and none of Hob’s stories have gotten anywhere near a reaction like that, and his eyebrows are practically in his hairline, and Hob’s face is on fire, and he wants to strangle Johanna and then walk directly into the ocean. 

But before he can, Dream smirks, tilting his head toward Johanna but keeping his eyes locked on Hob.

“I’m just that good.”

Hob knows he’s staring, but Dream’s never looked at him like that before and maybe he’s not as crazy as he thought, and Johanna is making fake gagging noises, and then Dream is placing a drink in front of him.

Pulling himself together, Hob smiles and takes a sip, “So what’s this one called?”

Dream doesn’t miss a beat, “It’s called ‘Fuck Me Tonight’.”

Hob chokes on the drink.

#the sandman #dreamling #I'm a bartender why the hell have I never written a bartending au? #goddamn it I might have to make this a full fic #the wip list grows -_-

[penvisions]

garnish {masterlist}

Pairing: Chef! Joel Miller x Bartender! Reader

Summary: Summer is a time of fun and carefree days for those who are fortunate enough to not work within the food industry. You however have found yourself back in that world and so long were the days you could spend doing nothing. Along with the shift back to a world you once left behind is the figure of Joel Miller, who is as magnetizing as he is irritating that is now a part of your daily life.

Word Count: 50k - complete

Warnings: smut piv smut, unprotected piv, dirty talk, joel miller's filthy mouth, kinda enemies to lovers?, age gap (reader is around 30 and joel is late 40's but it's up to your imagination, bby), degrading language, restaurant lingo, triggers associated with the food industry, power dynamics (due to job rankings), secret relationship, workplace relationship, pining, mutal pining, sexual tension, lingering stares, angst, hurt and comfort, stalking, unwanted attention, reader is an academic

A/N: please enjoy this self-indulgent little series!!

series teaser

main series:

chapter one || chapter two || chapter three || chapter four || chapter five

chapter six || chapter seven || chapter eight || chapter nine || chapter ten

one shots:

*in chronological order

happy hour(s) - post series one shot || not yet posted

office hours (valentine’s day one shot) ❤️‍🔥

out of date || i wish i never met you **new!!

#dev writes #fic:garnish #tlou #tlou fic #tlou fanfic #tlou au #restaurant au #alternatie universe #no outbreak!joel miller #no outbreak fic #joel miller #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #chef! joel #chef! joel x bartender! reader #joel miller smut #strangers to lovers #coworkers to lovers #secret relationship #workplace relationships #slight power dynamics #angst #fluff #the last of us #the last of us au #chef! joel miller #hurt and comfort #joel miller fanfiction #ao3

[iarrelm]

Hazbin Hotel Swap AU - Charlie. Vaggie. Angel Dust.

Alastor, Husk, and Nifty

Here's the other half of my swap au! I think Charlie and Angel were my favorites out of the six to draw lol

Charlie -> Alastor

In this AU, Charlie's thoughts on sinners are more heavily influenced by Lucifer instead of her mother. Somewhere deep down she still really cares for her people and hates seeing the exterminations come every year, but after spending some time walking around them, a part of her also thinks they might deserve it sometimes.

She's still pretty estranged from her father. She's sort of angry that she's so influenced by him because she wants to love her people so much.

Because of that, she also makes sure to get a much better handle on her demonic powers.

When Lilith goes missing, Charlie decides to start taking a more active role in hell by making deals with sinners.

Mostly, what they consist of is her just asking them to be better. Some of the sinners do take the request from Charlie seriously, but most of them break the deal the moment she leaves their sight.

Does she do anything about those demons? Well, violating a deal with the Princess of Hell does have consequences. :)

(She doesn't do much. She just scares them a little bit.)

Word spread around that the Princess was making deals and some details may have been embellished a bit. Rumors snowballed and eventually she become someone to be avoided at all costs.

She happened to hear about the Hazbin Hotel by chance as she walked by a shop with an old radio in front of it.

She tells Alastor that the only reason she's helping is because she's bored. Everyone else in Hell is avoiding her, after all.

She actually desperately wants to be proven wrong about sinners. She wants to see that they'll try to be better not because she's threatening them to, but because they want to.

Vaggie -> Nifty/Husk

Brought in by Charlie to be the hotel's housekeeper. She has zero experience with this job, but she's a quick learner and Nifty is a decent teacher when she doesn't just grab the mop or broom and do it herself.

She owes Charlie her life. She never made any kind of deal with Charlie, but after Charlie saved her from bleeding out in an alley, she'd do anything to help the demon out.

The two of them aren't dating, because Charlie is under the impression that Vaggie is a sinner. And because of her complicated thoughts on sinners, not to mention the hostile way Vaggie interacts with other people, they didn't end up becoming very close.

Vaggie also doesn't really trust Charlie completely. She seems friendly on the outside, but the deal making seems sketchy.

Vaggie is still a fallen angel/exorcist. And because Charlie has some level of distrust towards other demons, she suspects that something is off but doesn't have enough information to confirm anything.

After being brought to the hotel, she mostly avoids everyone and does her work quietly.

Angel Dust -> Husk/Nifty

Instead of meeting Valentino, he met Charlie.

He was the first sinner that she ever made a deal with. In exchange for her protection, he would do her a favor.

When Angel first heard that he wanted to laugh, but she reminded him a bit of his sister. Not to mention, who better to make a deal with than the Princess of Hell herself, right? He supposes owing her a favor isn't the worst thing in the world.

Because he doesn't make a deal with Valentino, he never moves into the Vee's Tower, which means he spends a lot more time on the street trying to find a place to stay. It leads him to figuring out exactly what to say and do to get a free room for a night until he can find some way to pay for his own.

Charlie offers to help him get his own place but he declines because even if he does feel a bit of a soft spot for her, he doesn't really trust her yet.

He gets really good at reading people. He can tell at a glance if someone is worth trying to talk into letting him stay for a night or two. And also whether or not they'd be dangerous to try convincing as well.

After awhile he ends up meeting Charlie more and more often and eventually they become friends. By that point, their deal has been paid, but now they help each other out just because.

When Charlie calls him to the hotel, he's happy to help. He's the second most enthusiastic person about the hotel, right behind Nifty.

He doesn't know shit about bartending though. He's pretty bad at mixing drinks, but he is really good at charming people, so that makes up for it. Most of the time.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel swap au #charlie morningstar #vaggie hazbin hotel #angel dust #angel dust hazbin hotel #my art #i had the most fun designing charlie and angel #charlie's outfit is more inspired by lucifers with the coat tails and boots #and for angel's i looked up bartender outfits and the striped vests they wear looked amazing on him #this au is an excuse for me to think about slowburn chaggie enemies to friends to lovers 50k words

[oneforthemunny]

​​you and bouncer!eddie fucking in the walk-in during a closing shift.

minors dni 18+

it's just the two of you on a wednesday night- too cold for even the drunks to venture out. you hadn't had much cleanup besides the few beers you served to frank, a regular, and you'd finished that before close.

eddie had sat at the bar with you, closest to the door in case someone walked in, but they never did. his hands traced the fringe of your ripped jeans while the jukebox played. you were giggling, so close you were practically nose to nose.

the two of you had gone out a few times, already planning for the next time you both had a night off. you liked eddie, a lot. and he liked you. he especially liked that you surprised him. like how you were naturally good at darts. or how you knew every word to 'starry eyes', you'd serenaded him on your first date, tipsy and giggly while he was sure he was going to marry you, right then and there.

he was even more sure when you'd sucked him off in the bathroom of the bar he'd taken you to. knelt on the grimy, sticky floors, head bobbing and eyes locked to his. he had his ringed hands fisted in your hair, head tilted back on the graffiti stall walls of the bathroom, groaning and muttering how good you were. you'd swallowed his load without him even asking, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. he'd kissed you hard, pressing you against the stall, uncaring.

eddie was hooked. so enthralled by you, and the excitement of your budding relationship. it was new, thrilling, and the best part, is no one at work knew. sure, they might see the little smirks and teasing banter you two had, but you'd always done that.

on night like tonight, you could be more yourselves, lingering touches and stolen kisses behind the counter.

you had finished loading the lemons up, going to dump the ice in the kitchen and stock away the unused produce for the night before you could leave. eddie insisted on helping you, muscles flexing when he lifted and dumped the ice down the sink.

eddie followed you into the walk-in, pinching your ass just to hear you squeal when you bent over. he wrapped you fully in his arms, your little giggles filling his ears as he pressed you against the cold, metal shelf.

"you look so pretty." eddie groaned, stamping kisses up and down your neck, biting and sucking on the skin that had you mewling and clawing at him.

"ed-ed, we can't. we're at work-"

"no one's here." eddie sighed against you. "just me and you, c'mon. been thinking' about you all night." you whined when his hands went lower, cupping you through your jeans, rough fingers pressed hard against your slit.

you gave in, letting him pull your jeans and panties down, lifting your shirt and bra up over your boobs. he smirked at the way your nipples hardened in the cool air of the walk-in, leaving your shuddering under his glare.

moments later, he had you clawing at a shelf, bent at the hips so your ass was pushed back into his face. eddie was on his knees, spreading your cheeks and lapping at your clit like his life depended on it. he grabbed the doughy skin of your ass, squeezing it and moaning as you shimmied back further into him, begging and gasping.

once he added his fingers, slipping them in slow into your sopping hole, you were shaking, writhing in pleasure. eddie pressed kisses to your ass cheeks, up your spine and to the back of you neck until he stood at his full height, pumping himself a few times before sinking into you with a grunt.

he anchored his hands on the shelf above you, hips snapping furiously into yours, eyes rolling back at the sound of your echoey moans in the freezer. the buzz of the cold air filling the space, mixed with your breathy demands of, "please, eddie, right there!" had his abs tight, gritting his teeth to keep himself from cumming too early.

you came undone quickly, your first orgasm leaving you sensitive and mushy. eddie watched as you dropped to your knees, finishing him off with swallowing him wholly. he fisted your hair, guiding your head on his cock again, groaning when you cupped his balls, squeezing just enough to get him twitching and spilling down your throat.

you turned off the lights and machines on shaky legs, clinging to his arm when he walked you to your car. you wrapped your arms around his torso, smirking up at him as he finished off his cigarette.

"wonder when we get to close again together, hm?" eddie smirked. "think we should make that a new closing task for us- fuck in the walk-in after close. whaddya think, baby?"

#oneforthemunny #munnytalks #funsonmunson #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson au #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x female reader #bouncer!eddie munson x bartender!reader #bouncer!eddie munson #bouncer!eddie #eddie x reader #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #eddie stranger things #eddie x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic

[minxinq]

15

#100kiana #100 kiana #my art #artists on tumblr #digital art #wlw #lesbian #hi3 #hi3rd #honkai impact 3rd #sapphic #honkai fanart #kiana kaslana #herrscher of flamescion #bartender au

[bangaveragewhitewine]

I'm yours, all yours

Eddie Munson x Reader (bouncer x bartender, established relationship) 

October 1991

It’s been over two months since you kissed Eddie Munson in the back alley of the dive bar you both work in. You had barely stopped kissing him ever since.

An autumn afternoon together shows you a little bit more of the man you’re falling in love with.

Word Count: 6.2K

Content / Warnings: Contains the main food groups - fluff, smut & hurt+comfort. Reader has some self doubt / anxious thoughts. This is 18+ - if you are not 18+ hit the back button and read something else. Oral (m receiving, minor f receiving), p-in-v sex. Feeeeelings. Eddie & Reader are mid twenties. Reader written as AFAB using fem pronouns.

This is best enjoyed after reading their origin story crazy-mad for you (part of the Happy Hours series)

Author’s note: I’m planning to follow CMFY with some one-shots from throughout Eddie & Bartender’s relationship. I have some loose ideas but this one came from a deleted scene I couldn’t squeeze into the main fic so reworked it! Beta’ed by @specialagentmonkey (theee best)  Thank you for the love on CMFY! Reading your replies and reblogs and tags made my shitty wee brighter. Hope you enjoy this cosy peek and have a gorgeous day 🖤

It’s been over two months since you kissed Eddie Munson in the back alley of the dive bar you both work in. You had barely stopped kissing him ever since. Every moment your lips aren’t on each other is like a thousand paper-cuts to Eddie’s heart (so soft inside the facade of Mean Metalhead he has curated for himself). He makes you want to write his name next to yours in pink gel pen, framed with sparkly little hearts. 

Two months and counting with Eddie and you learn something new about him every day; he loves tattoos but needles make his stomach twist, he meets his friend Steve once a month for a dude-date breakfast (but sees as much as he can of him and his other friends when their schedules line up), he sings with his band but needs at least five drinks before karaoke.

When you ask questions, when you're curious, he tells his long and meandering stories with wandering tangents which tell you so much about the man you’re falling in love with. He opens up to you, tells you things very few people know - about his mom, how he ended up with his Uncle Wayne. It hasn’t been long, but you already can’t wait to meet him.

Two whole months (closer to three really) and you’re sure you don’t want to ever have a single day without Eddie in your life, and your bed. And yet you still haven’t asked the question that has been on your mind since before you two ever got together. 

It’s October now; Autumn is here and the city has turned chilly. Sweltering summer nights are no longer and you and Eddie have been spending afternoons and late nights when you’re not working watching your favourite horror films. When he had told you how much he loved Halloween - just as much as you, if not a wee bit more - you knew Eddie Munson was the one. 

It’s Friday, late afternoon and you had reluctantly spent the night in your own apartment. The shame radiating from the mountain of laundry in the corner of your room had become too powerful to ignore and so you had forgone a night of being held and loved-on to tackle it and the other life-admin you had been ignoring. Eddie had suggested staying at your place, but you knew he would distract you too much with his kisses and touches (which he doled out generously whenever you were near). 

You had missed your boyfriend terribly, almost like a missing limb or a gorgeous big parasite (affectionate) that you had grown more than fond of. Eddie had the night off work but still drove you to and from the bar, even stayed for a drink until Frank shooed him away for trying to distract you. You had missed him so much that you had kept him on the phone to talk a little longer when he got home before saying goodnight and promising you would see him before your shift together tomorrow. You had spent nights apart before, days and nights when you or Eddie had clashing schedules but you felt his absence more than ever today. 

Your laundry and errands had never been completed with such efficiency as when you had the motivation of seeing Eddie as soon as they were ticked off your to-do list. 

You arrived at his door and buzzed the intercom for his apartment, laden down with an overnight bag (over-weekend really) and Tupperware containers full of homemade soup and lasagna for before your shift at Jackie’s. Your cheeks are warm and you can feel heat prickling under your arms alongside the swelling of anticipation in your chest. Eddie buzzes you in and comes to meet you, a big grin on his face for his girl.

His hair is up in a messy bun, held in place by a black velvet scrunchie you insisted was his now. He looks cosy in sweats, a tank top and his red and black flannel which you know to be softer than soft. Eddie hadn’t even bothered with shoes, braving the stairs in his socks so that he could see you sooner. You match his smile when you catch sight of him; cosy Eddie is far from the leather-jacketed bouncer you had got to know.

When he sees how many bags you’re carrying, he rushes to lighten your load (doesn’t even skid on the tiles). 

“You walked here with all that?! I could’a picked you up!” he said, shouldering your overnight bag before blessing you with a kiss. 

“It’s like two blocks, not a marathon.” You roll your eyes at him but pout for another kiss anyway as he rings for the elevator. 

Eddie will never refuse you a kiss. He pecks little smooches to your smile as it grows wider. “I missed you last night.”

“I missed you too.” You nudge his cheek with your nose, pecking at it like a little bird as the lift arrives; you step in ahead of him, pressing the button for the third floor with your now free hand. 

He asks if you slept okay (not as well without him, but you don’t say that) and tells you about the bag of free bagels he scored as a thank you from the man who ran the deli a few doors down. The guy’s hand-truck had lost a wheel while he was taking in a delivery that morning and Eddie helped him out, fixed the wheel too. He knew how much you loved the bagels from there and it felt fateful that his reward was a bag of your favourite everything bagels.

“Neighbourhood hero,” you sing, following him into his one-bedroom flat. “Is there anything you can’t do?” 

“Trigonometry. French. Um… skateboarding!” he lists, as he drops your bag inside his bedroom door. “I fucking suck at skateboarding.”

The thought of Eddie on a skateboard makes you smile - definitely a little meanly, what a dork - but you store that one for later. 

The bag of Tupperware barely makes it to the kitchen counter before Eddie’s arms are around you,  pulling you back against his chest. His nose presses into the base of your neck, huffing hot breaths against your sweet-smelling skin before kissing up his well-worn path. 

“I really missed you,” he murmurs, hips nudging forward against your jean-clad behind for emphasis. 

“Missed me or missed getting your dick sucked?” you ask, turning your head to look at him. 

“Both. Mainly you.” His grin is impish as you turn to loop your arms around his neck, backed right up to the wiped-clean Formica. You let him lift you onto the counter so that he can stand between your spread knees. 

“I missed you and your dick, so we’re even. And we have the whole weekend together to get reacquainted, huh?” You twist a loose curl around your finger, tugging to watch it spring and coil.

Eddie feels like a swooning maiden when he’s the centre of your attention like this, being flirted with. He loves it and he knows he’s in love with you. He had fallen first, long before you had even realised your banter at work was more than just that. 

His fingers creep up your thighs, the silver glinting at you as you place your focus on making up for a night apart as you make out in his little kitchen. 

Eddie smells shower-fresh, clean with a hint of spice, and the curls at the base of his neck are still a little damp. He shivers, giggling against your mouth when you run your finger down his spine. “Your nails are tickly,” he says with a pretend scowl. 

You know he loves your nails on his back; when they’re digging in like claws to leave him littered with red scratches, and when they’re tickling up and down in soothing strokes as he’s falling asleep. 

He takes your hand and brings it around to see the fresh coat of deep red on your nails. “You painted them!” he says, his nose scrunches cutely when you poke it. 

“I did. The black was getting chipped and gross.” You brought the black polish anyway in case he wanted to try it out again, thrown somewhere in your make-up bag. 

Eddie rests his chin on your chest; your breasts have become his favourite place to lay his head, closely followed by the squishy pillow of your thigh (there’s a third-place tie between your tummy and your butt). You dot kisses to his forehead beneath the shaggy bangs, trailing up into his hair when he presses his face against your soft sweater.

“Eddie?”  “Hmm.” His voice is muffled.  “You hungry?”

His head turns so you can hear him more clearly, “Hungry for you.” 

Hopeful mischief twinkles in his hot-chocolate eyes when he peers up at you. 

“Horndog.” “Yes?”  “Gross boy.” “Unh, yes. Say more dirty things to me, baby.”

He has a look of hammed-up ecstasy on his face, scrunched brow and bitten lip. Even though you know he’s pretending, it makes the horny cavewoman part of your brain think about his face when he is actually deep inside you or desperate for your touch - it makes your tummy feel like lava. One night apart makes you realise just how bad you’ve got it for him. You shove at his head and Eddie leans back with a throaty giggle before squeezing your hips again. 

To balance out your playful push and satiate the need building in your gut, you pull him in for a kiss - open-mouthed with the dirty slide of tongue that sounds loud in your ears. Your legs wrap around him, arms tighten. 

“Carry me?” “Bed?” “Sofa, bed. Wherever.”  “Potato, tomato.” “Eddie.” 

He sweeps you off the counter - you’re still surprised and impressed at his strength until you remember him lifting the barrels and kegs at work. You reward him with distracting kisses as he carries you to the soft brown couch and smile up at him when he lays you down gently. He forgets about gentle as he removes his shirt and pounces on you, resuming your dirty kisses from the kitchen. 

Merlot-red nails push the hem of Eddie’s tank top up his pale back, slipping beneath to pull him tighter to you between your thighs. You can already feel him growing hard; you nip at his lower lip and kiss away the sting. 

“Sit up for a sec.” You tap his side but Eddie needs to kiss you just a little bit more before he can pull himself away. 

“Where you goin’?” he asks, a little breathless. Blown-black pupils eat up the brown warmth with his voracious want; he watches as you sit up on your knees and pull your cosy sweater off, then the white vest beneath, leaving you in your creamy silk bra and blue jeans. 

“Pretty,” Eddie whispers, his fingers brushing the little bow between your breasts. He was in awe of your little collection of bras, the matching underwear too. He even loved you in the cotton comfy pants that hugged just right when your cramps ached. 

“Sit back against that end. And take your pants off, handsome.” You smile when he stares at you, “Do you need help?” 

Eddie barely shakes his head as he wriggles out of his sweatpants and sits where you told him to. You balance each other out, taking turns to take the lead. You’re still learning, and despite Eddie’s non-academic tendencies, he’s studious and dedicated to learning what you like, where and how to touch you. You’re his favourite subject and he’s yours too.

You smile and knee-walk across the chasm between you, situating yourself between his legs to take his face in your hands and kiss him. He makes a small joyful noise when you begin to kiss down to his jaw and nuzzle at the dusting of stubble. 

“Smell good,” you murmur, teasing delicate skin with your teeth before bestowing him sucking a wet kiss, enough to leave just a hint of a bruise there. It makes Eddie groan quietly, a desperate little noise at the back of his throat. He’s louder when you slip your fingers down his chest and into the waistband of his black boxers - they have little skulls on them. 

“Cute,” you run your thumb over the elastic at the top as your knuckles brush his cock. Almost an echo of Eddie’s assessment of your bra moments ago. 

Hips push up, almost like an electric shock. There’s a tiny noise that you just about hear, deep back in his throat, a quiet grunt as Eddie covers your hand and shows you what he needs. His pretty lashes flutter as you look at each other, sparking fire in your gut again. You smile and move your hand away, halting his protest by pulling the black cotton down his thighs to drop them on the floor. 

You can feel saliva pooling under your tongue when you see him - you really did miss him, all of him, while you were apart. He’s thick and a few centimetres over average length; a nice dick (rare and wonderful) and he knows what to do with it to leave you brainless and whimpering. Eddie gets one more kiss before you make yourself comfy, lying on your tummy between his legs. Little kisses are peppered on his hairy thighs, over the black and shadow of ink, before you take him in your hand, then your mouth. 

Eddie is in awe of how pretty you look like this, how your lashes kiss your cheekbones and the stretch of your lips (he goes a little crazy if you’re wearing lipstick too, really gets him going). His breath comes hard through his nose as you tongue the head of him, press against the thick vein before taking as much as you can into your mouth. 

“Shit,” he growls, feeling your nails on his thigh as you begin to bob your head steadily. His hips and thighs tense and spread a little wider, needy, as he keeps himself in check. Your other hand holds the base of him, what you haven’t yet tried to fit into that pretty mouth. 

“Look at my girl, so gorgeous,” he murmurs, smiling when your lashes flutter. His girl. “So pretty.” 

You hum affirmative, taking more in when his head tips back to show off his pale throat and the little mark you left behind. His jaw tenses, twitches and you begin the slow bob of your head again. You look up past your lashes, watching his brow crease when you take him all the way. 

“Shit shit shit,” his voice is a breathy growl that bleeds into a louder moan when he sees you looking up at him - his devil woman. “You’re going to kill me someday with that mouth, huh?” he says. The shake in his voice betrays him as he tries to act a little smooth, a little more together as you’re taking him apart. 

You bob your head, imitating a nod, and bring your hand down to squeeze and roll his neglected balls for good measure. That makes him howl and he covers his face with his arm while you let that playful hand take over so you can catch your breath. 

“Y’okay?” you ask, resting your cheek against his thigh as you move your hand a little faster. 

“Mhmm, peachy,” he replies, eyes a little wild. You love the pink blush on his usually pale cheeks, love knowing that he’s like this because of you. 

Eddie strokes your cheek as you take the head of him back between your lips, a tender little caress of his thumb that makes you close your eyes and lean in. You feel hot and slick between your legs, push your hips to the sofa cushion just a little to temper the ache. 

He catches the little motion and his jaw drops a little - it clears his head just a little, zeroing in on you through his haze of arousal. “Oh my girl feelin’ needy too?” he asks, thumb pushing gently against your cheek.

You move your mouth off of him and nod, turning your head to kiss his palm. “Told’ju I missed you.” 

Eddie’s grin can’t be contained. “C’mere then.” His hands run over your back, coaxing you into his lap. 

Once you have rid yourself of your jeans and underwear you take up your throne on Eddie’s thighs. Your appetite for each other meant that he had started storing condoms in practically every room - there's a fresh box on the coffee table, bought that morning after he saw how low the reserves were. 

Your arms wind around his neck, pressing yourself against Eddie as he kisses you again. Fingers drift between your legs, feeling just how slick you are for him - a combination of missing him and seeing the effect of your mouth on his face. You feel his smile against your mouth as you seek a deeper dirtier kiss, sucking that plump lower lip between your own. 

One guitar-string scarred finger is joined by a second, rubbing slow firm circles that make you moan into his mouth. They press inside and his thumb takes up that slow wet rub, pulling more little needy noises from your lips as you take him back into your hand.

Hands and wrists cramp easily at this angle and you take a moment to pull back, biting your kiss-bruised lip before turning around on your hands and knees to present yourself to Eddie. Peeking over your shoulder with a cheeky smile, you see how his eyes blaze before grabbing for the box of Durex. You hide your grin against your arm when you hear him swearing at the plastic wrapping, calling the box ‘a fuckin’ shitbag’ when his nails struggled for purchase against it. There’s a tiny ‘yes!’ when he finally breaks in and you laugh quietly at you listen to the familiar tear-open of foil. 

On his knees, he bends to kiss the rounds of your ass, then dips lower to taste you just once. “Fuckin’ so sweet,” he murmurs, wishing he had the willpower to not follow his dick that afternoon and dive into you instead - but there’s always later. 

You gasp-giggle at the feeling of his tongue and rock back when you see him line himself up. “Please?” Your lips push into a playful pout, “Show me how much you missed me?” You love winding him up like this.

One side of his mouth curves up as he holds your hip, rubs the head against you to play you at your own game before pushing all the way in. Your jaw drops open, feeling full as Eddie rocks his hips minutely. You can feel him pushed right up against you inside and out, his thighs against the back of yours before he begins a deep dragging thrust.

“Shit, you feel good,” he murmurs, stroking your hip lovingly. “That’s it, baby. Let me take care of you.”

You nod, hating that you can’t see him despite how good this angle is for you both. “Eddie,” you whimper, feeling yourself flutter around him.

“Yeah, that’s who’s making you feel good, sweet thing. I’ve got you.” He squeezes your hip, the silver of his rings biting into the doughy softness as he watches his length disappear inside you over and over as he begins to get quicker and harder with his thrusts. 

Your eyes nearly roll back as he pounds into you, fingers gripping the arm of the couch - it’s about the only thing keeping you up as Eddie fucks you and runs his mouth. It feels so good you can barely speak. 

“That’s my girl. Going all cock-dumb on me?” he asks, squeezing the meat of your ass a little harder, watching it jiggle and bounce with his thrusts. “I’ll make you feel good like this every day if you let me. S’what you deserve, getting fucked like you need, huh?” 

Your answering moan is spurred on not only by his words but the graze of his length on your g-spot. “Eddie, god! Yes, right there,” your voice is a babble, the words running into each other ‘yesrigh’there’ as it becomes the only thing you can say. 

The pulsing gush around him, hot wet heat, makes Eddie moan with you. “I know, baby. I know.” His back teeth press together as he holds on, the cord of pleasure pulled tight in his pelvis. The slapping pounding sound fills the room but he can only hear you, almost crying with pleasure. 

“Close,” you murmur, slumped forward a little more. The angle arches your back, pulls Eddie deeper. Your groan is shaky, broken with want. 

“Me too, baby. Got me so wound up,” he murmurs. “Can you touch yourself for me?” He watches your hand move back between your legs, feels the graze of your fingers as you bring yourself closer, small tight circles that sync up with his punishingly good pace. 

“Fuck! Eddie,” you whimper, feeling the inferno in your belly burn bright and hot as you see stars, tears springing as you come hard. 

“Shit shit, that’s my girl. Oh yeah, fuck,” he grinds out,  continuing his thrusts as your body shakes with pleasure. Eddie folds over you, wrapping his arms around you to bring you back into his lap like a rag doll. He can’t bear to not be as close to you as humanly possible as he nears his own orgasm, mouth pressed to your neck to kiss and pant against it as he hammers into you. 

His fingers trail down, finding a quick rhythm that brings you to a shock of a second climax, shorter but no less intense than the first. You feel boneless, yet manage to pull his hand away when it becomes too much, holding his arm around your middle as the other curls up and loops around his neck. Your lips find their way to Eddie’s jaw, pressing wet kisses there. Your eyes are heavy, and yet you see the moment he falls apart. 

His eyes close, face creasing in beautiful blissful agony as he comes holding you in his lap, your name on his tongue. 

Your chest feels heavy, breath synced up as your fingers stroke up against his scalp, past the flyaways. He kisses you messily, so slow and without the same hurry he had mere moments ago. 

Your noses brush against each other’s warm cheeks, lazy smiles pressing kisses as hands smooth and caress wherever is in reach. You feel fuzzy around the edges, warm all over with Eddie plastered to your back. You would both gladly overheat to stay like this a bit longer. Eddie’s lean arms are the only thing holding you together right now, grounded syrupy-sweet kisses that bond the broken bits back into place. 

“Wanna see my girl,” he murmurs after a few moments mouthing at your shoulder, “Easy, babe.” Eddie’s hands on your waist help you to move from his lap, unsheathing him from your body. He wraps the condom in a tissue before lying back, inviting you into his arms with grabby hands.

You bring the blanket from the back of the sofa with you when you lie against his chest, sharing love-drunk kisses as you bask in the glow of each other. 

It’s bright-cold outside the steamed-up windows; the afternoon sun lights the room. His neighbours will surely hate you, but when Eddie strokes his tongue against yours you forget to care.

You brush his sweaty bangs away and press a kiss to the centre of his forehead before resting your head against his chest, tucked under his chin as his hand finds yours. He kisses your knuckles and smiles down at you. 

“Y’okay?” he checks, rosy-cheeked bright-eyed and deliriously happy. Sometimes he feels the need to pinch himself when he realises the woman he had been pining for is now his girlfriend. One time you had been lying together smoking and watching a rerun of Twin Peaks and he had actually asked you to pinch him - his nipple had ached for the rest of the night but at least he knew it was all real. And you had kissed it better. 

Now you smile lazily up at him, real and cosy in his arms. “Never better,” you promise. Your nose scrunches when he kisses it and calls you his little bunny to make you laugh. 

Eddie lights a cigarette and holds it to your lips when you’re too comfy to move. It brings you both back to the real world, back from the plain of absolute bliss. It’s quiet, neither feeling the need to fill the comfortable silence until your curiosity gets the better of you. 

“Where’d you get them?” you ask, lifting your joined hands to finally speak the question you have been meaning to ask. Your fingers slot between Eddie’s, palm to palm, as you admire the silver.

“Been kinda building a little collection since school. Thrift shops mainly.” Eddie shrugs one shoulder; he’s careful not to jostle you too much as you lie against his chest. He pauses to catch a fallen eyelash on your cheek, holding it out to you to blow away. You smile a little and lift your head to wish for a thousand more afternoons like this. 

“I have two nice ones; my friends pooled together for a graduation present for me, and the other one, this one,” Eddie shows you his right middle finger, a harmless flip-off to show you the black enamel heart with wings that he always wears. It’s smaller, less outrightly demonic than the others. The rest of his rings are swapped out, usually a lucky dip into a little dish on his bedside table, but this one stays on. “Bought this one for myself when the band went on tour. Something to remember, y’know?” 

You had heard about Corroded Coffin’s big opportunity last year, playing a few dates as an opening act for a bigger metal band. Your thumb runs over the warm metal as he begins to speak again.

“It was the last day of tour and I was so fuckin’ tired. We were kinda convinced that we were going to be discovered or something, and the crowds really liked us but… it didn’t happen how we had planned.”  

You expect to hear sadness in his voice but there is none. Maybe a hint of resignation that their dream hadn’t become reality.

“Me and Gareth had a fight on the last morning, both of us were hungover as fuck and antsy because it was all going to be over in a few hours. So I stormed off to get breakfast and clear my head, or get more fucked up.” Eddie’s little smile doesn’t meet his eyes; they look a little bit more glossy than usual. “It was my Mom’s birthday and I felt like shit. I would say I found this little jeweller-silversmith place but I think it found me.”

You squeeze Eddie tighter, feeling like he’s letting you see a whole new part of him. A beautiful little sentimental part that houses and holds dear the other woman he loved and the little boy he was when he lost her.

“It was way more money than I should have spent on something so small, but it felt right I couldn’t leave it behind y’know? I went in and it was right there.” His eyes sparkle as he remembers that feeling of all-over calm he felt that day in the little shop. “Went back and apologised to Gare and we played the last show, definitely our best one.”

You lean up and press a soft kiss to his mouth, “That’s a sweet story, Ed. Thank you for telling me.” Your voice is a whisper against his pillowy lips; you kiss those lips again and feel the silver against your cheek as Eddie kisses you back. Your chest feels like it could burst and there’s an annoying pressure at the back of your eyes. 

“You’re gonna laugh at me but..” Eddie rolls his eyes and leans his head back against the arm of the sofa. He figures out his words before speaking again. “It’s like, everything happened for a reason - we didn’t get a big break but we’re all happy. Gareth got into art school, Jeff moved out of his Mom’s place and… I met you.”

Silence. 

His honesty winds you, it hits you so hard in the chest that you can barely fathom the flurry of feelings like wings battering your chest from the inside. Your lower lip wobbles. Eddie is dead serious too; you know he’s not saying it to be playful. He has so much love in his battered heart and it oozes from him.

Eddie was expecting you to scoff or roll your eyes, call him ‘soft boy’ or something. Maybe a very small part of him thought you might brush him off (he didn’t let himself dwell on that bit). He certainly wasn’t expecting the teary look in your eyes. 

“Shit, baby.” He thumbs your cheek and pouts back at you, pressing the sweetest kiss to your lips; so sweet and slow like the maple syrup you have been adding to your coffees now that it’s Fall. “I mean it. If things went differently, if I didn’t come back, I wouldn’t have met the sexy new bartender, huh?”

You smile, laugh a little wetly and try to blame the post-sex rush for being weepy. “I guess I’m a little bit glad you came back to be annoying. Super selfish of me.” 

You can’t help but think that there might be some parallel universe where you’re still shaking cocktails in Jackie’s but Eddie’s on stage opening for Metallica, Corroded Coffin at the top of the charts. With that thought comes a deep-sinking feeling that maybe someday you might not be enough and he will want that rockstar life; groupies, supermodels, a pretty blonde actress on his arm.... Not you. 

Eddie kisses you again and pulls you close, cocooning the pair of you in the blanket. You find his hand to kiss the black enamel heart before resting your head, cheek to chest. 

You have never felt so in love, nor have you felt so scared. Eddie feels lighter now that he has said out loud the thought about fate that has been rattling around his skull for too long. He feels your arms wrapping tighter around him, like he might disappear. 

He presses his smiling lips fiercely to the crown of your head. “What’s goin’ on in here, huh? I can hear that big brain thinkin’ up a storm.” He thinks over everything he said; was he coming on too strong?

“I just really really like you, Ed,” you whisper, squeezing your eyes shut. Telling him that felt so easy; maybe if you weren’t being sucked into an internal doom spiral you could play it up and roll your eyes, pretend it was icky to like him.

“Yeah? I really really like you too.” Your admission makes his heart sing; Eddie tries to temper his smile but can’t. He won’t pretend he’s not head over heels for you, he’d give you a vital organ if you needed it - hell, his heart was already yours. 

He cups your cheek again, coaxing you to look at him. “What else? You’re like… a scared little bunny right now.” He concentrates all his love into how he’s holding you as if it could be transferred like magic from his fingertips. 

“I just...” 

He doesn’t force you to go on when you hide your face in his chest, feeling so stupid for being emotional. Your eyes burn, and he wishes he could be whatever you need right now. He’s not used to seeing his bossy flirty girl so unsure of herself; it makes him love you a little more. He looks up at the ceiling and squeezes your body gently.

“Hey. You don’t have to say anything, just listen okay? I’m serious about you, about... Everything I feel for you.” His voice shakes minutely but he takes a moment, stroking your back to centre himself. “I’m not going to up and leave someday to be a rockstar without you. I need you. Okay? You’re my girl. Best thing that’s happened to me in so so long.” Eddie presses a fiercely loving kiss to your head. “I’m yours, all yours.” 

A tiny shaky sob escapes your throat, leaving you embarrassed. “I’m your girl,” you nod, looking up to see Eddie’s sentimental smile, his wet brown eyes. Your voice is thin and wobbly, like a broken pencil. “I’m so fuckin’ happy with you, Eddie.” 

Neither of you says it, but ‘I love you’ is woven into your confessions, binding you together as you share that moment on Eddie’s squishy, comfy sofa. 

You tilt your head to exchange teary-wet kisses, wobbly smiles on your lips as you begin to feel calmer.

“My baby,” he murmurs. “Don’t bottle shit up, okay? Doesn’t help.” He cups your face, wiping the last stray tears from your cheeks and presses kisses there as a balm. 

“I know. I feel stupid for getting upset, it’s like so early for us..” You look down at his chest, trace the black ink you can reach before looking at his pretty face. You know it’s so early, so why get ahead of yourself when Eddie’s already made you a promise? You take a breath, close your eyes and focus on what you really want, “When can I come to see Corroded Coffin play?” 

Eddie grins, laughs a little throaty. They had taken a little break after tour, played a few bars in the Spring to make sure they didn’t rust up. With Gareth settled back in college, they were ready to get back into it. 

“We’re trying to get a gig for the end of the month. Andy knows a guy putting on a night close to Halloween. Jeff’s the organised one though, I’ll check with him tonight.” He kisses your head and smiles. “I gotta get you a shirt, huh?”

“Mhm, yes please. I heard the lead singer is so hot,” you say, smiling a little when he makes a happy noise deep in his throat. “Might throw my bra on stage if he’s as good as they say…” The thought of seeing your man on stage - your man - makes your tummy flutter. 

“Yeah? Shit, lucky guy.”  

You look up at Eddie and move yourself to rest your forehead against his. “The luckiest. I’m the luckiest girl though.” You mean it too, sealing it with a kiss. 

Eddie cups the back of your head, pressing the loveliest kisses to your mouth. “Lucky fuckers,” he murmurs. You trade kisses back and forth, chasing lazy happy smiles for ‘just one more?’ until you need to move.

“Can I shower? Feel sweaty.” Your time together before work is already ticking away, though you’ve made excellent use of it so far. 

“Can I come watch? I mean wash your back?” he asks, walking his fingers down your spine with a coy little smile. 

“You just want to see soapy boobs,” you tut, looping your arms around his neck as he sits up, taking you with him. 

“What guy doesn’t want to see soapy boobs?” he asks, incredulous at the thought. 

You kiss the corner of his mouth, humming in agreement, “You still got that disposable camera?”

Eddie’s eyes go wide - you half expect his heart to beat out of his chest, eyes on stalks like a babbling cartoon. “Yes ma’am.” 

He dumps you off his lap onto the sofa to root for the camera in his room. The sound of his sweary search carry down the hall as you laugh up at the ceiling.

You love him. You absolutely love Eddie Munson. He’s very easy to love. 

Later, when you’re showered clean (a process which required getting just a little bit dirty again with Eddie worshipping you on his knees in the shower) and full-bellied after the dinner you had brought, you and Eddie get ready for work side-by-side in his room. 

You’re putting mascara on in his mirror, humming to Queen despite Eddie’s protests, when you hear him call your name. 

“Mhm?” 

Eddie’s dressed in a black Henley and some jeans - his leather boots and jacket to go on next. You see the glint of silver around his neck as he nods for you to join him on the bed. 

“Help me pick what rings to wear?” he asks, voice soft and tentative. 

Your heart skips and you nod, crossing the gap to perch on his lap as you pick three more for him to wear - an upside-down cross, a very mean-looking skull, a silver signet ring with ‘EM’ engraved (the gift from his friends for graduation). 

He lets you choose where they go and watches as you slip them onto his long fingers. “Perfect,” he murmurs, linking your hands together. 

“Pretty damn perfect,” you agree, kissing the back of his hand so he will show you that bright and beaming grin. 

You love him, you love him, you love him. And Eddie? He already can’t wait to put a ring on your finger. 

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

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[yournextbimbogf]

I heard this soundgasm audio about a friend! Bartender x listener and i cant help but to think about it being Miguel ૮꒰ ˊᗜˋ ꒱ა

“What can i get for you today?—” Said miguel when he used his almost robotic tone. He had a smile plastered on this face as he cleans a empty beer glass. Suddenly at the sight of you he grins at the sight of you sitting infront of him.

“Ahh its just you.” he says in a sarcastic tone yet again, you were his best friend since Highschool yet ever since he got this job he has seen you as more.

“Don’t gotta use your fake voice all the time you know?” You argued back holding back a chuckle. Suddenly his hands fly up as he’s quick to defend himself.

“Hey! It’s not my fault i thought i saw a new costumer” he belted out in a defending tone, after all you were his best friend and his best costumer.

“Like your not excited to see me.” you say in a teasing tone back at him. Before he can even reply back he pours you a shot of tequila before sliding the glass across the wooden table. As the glass touches your hand you instantly drink it as you shake your head from the usual sour taste. Miguel finishes cleaning up the dirty glasses as he places them into the sink.

“Hey i saw you on that dance floor and i promise you were bending your back like there’s no tomorrow.” He says while chuckling slightly, all though it was cute seeing the way you danced and laughed. He sees you covering your face in embarrassment as you giggle too. He knew he wasn’t the one to talk, he couldn’t admit he was Atleast staring at your body for a good minute.

“Don’t tell me you didn’t like it though.” You blurted out without a thought in mind. You immediately back track your words before your eyes widen.

“But i did though so what now?” Miguel blurted back. All you personally wanted to was just grab his uniform and kiss him, you didn’t know if it was the alcohol talking or yourself. So you decided to pass the silence by doing what you always wanted to do. You grab his collar and kiss him, a couple of moments later he pulls back before saying.

“Look, if you want to do this i want you to tell me that you do.” He sees you nod your head and sighs yet again.

“I’m serious, i care for you and i don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.” He insisted. He didn’t want you to feel any sorts of uncomfortable.

“Yes Miguel i want to do this.” you say this with a smirk.

Now here were you two. Panting and sweating like there’s no tomorrow. The sweet smell of sex is clouding the room as he kisses all the way to your neck til he stops at your pussy.

“May i?” He chimed before taking off your panties and licking your clit. His fingers slip inside you as you can feel a big wave of pleasure hitting your body. You feel yourself on the verge of cumming

“Mi Reina, cum for me.” After he said that, that instantly sets you over the edge and you moan loudly. He smiles genuinely before standing up. He can tell by the look on your face that your hiding something that you want to say, so he tilts his head in confusion.

“It’s nothing i jus’ wanted..you know?” You say gesturing that you wanted to have his cock too. He unzips his pants and lets out his cock. Your eyes slightly open at the length.

“This is what you wanted?” He spoke in a almost mocking tone. He comes closer to you and slaps the tip onto your pussy before sliding it in. Right away he groans at the sight of your cunt hugging him like a glove. He starts to move and kiss you. He bucks his hips into yours while his tongue finds his way inside your mouth. He pulls back and kisses your neck, he starts to make hickeys on your neck while he’s still inside you.

“F-fuck, oh god miguel! I’m cumming” you stammer out in pleasure, as you do you feel a hand rubbing your clit. Miguel’s eyes shut as he feels your pussy tighten around his base. He instantly cums inside your pussy leaving you with a full feeling. He pulls out his cock and he watches the sight of your pussy dripping with his cum. He smiles before telling you something.

“I know i can’t believe i’m saying this but..I’ve had feelings for you since i got this job as a bartender. I love your smile, your hair, your eyes, i love everything about you.” He finally tells you after keeping it a secret. He sees you smile as you spoke in a soft tone.

“Miguel you could’ve taken me out first?! i’m playing but I’ve liked you too.” He grunts in fake annoyance before plopping down next to you and pressing your head into his chest and sighing.

“You are the most perfect one aren’t you?”

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and btw tysm for the banner @saradika-graphics ≽^•⩊•^≼!!

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