☆dollface☆

The hum of the industrial refrigerator is the only thing keeping you company—a low, vibrating drone that seems to rattle right through the soles of your worn-out heels.

It’s 3:14 AM. The air inside the diner is freezing, the ancient heating unit overhead doing nothing but blowing a thin, lukewarm draft that dies before it ever reaches the floor. You shiver, pulling the sleeves of your stained shirt over your hands, your knuckles raw and red from the ice-cold dishwater.

Every muscle in your body aches with a deep, heavy exhaustion. Your lower back throbs from hours of pacing the greasy, stained linoleum. Your eyes burn, feeling like someone rubbed sand into them. You’ve been on your feet since yesterday afternoon, and the night shift has a way of stretching time until minutes feel like hours.

Under the harsh, flickering buzz of the yellowing fluorescent lights, the diner has a way of looking abandoned. The cheap vinyl booths are cracked, casting long, distorted shadows across the empty tables.

It’s mostly quiet, save for the sparse, depressing clientele of the dead-of-night crowd. Over in the corner booth, a tired trucker stares blankly into a mug of lukewarm, burnt coffee, his shoulders slumped as if the weight of the highway was crushing him. A few stools down at the counter, a guy in a grease-stained jacket slowly traces the rim of his glass, looking like he has nowhere else in the world to go, letting the smoke of his cigarette glide into the air and cling to the damp, cold windows.

You sigh, the sound lost in the vast, empty space of the restaurant. You grab a damp rag to wipe down the counter for the hundredth time, your movements slow and robotic. The smell of old grease, stale tobacco clinging to the curtains, and the sharp bite of cheap bleach fills your nose.

You hate this uniform. You hate these stupid shoes that dig into the soles of your feet like nails. Your stupid manager constantly demands you look "pretty" for the customers even though he almost never actually shows up unless it's to complain about your "shitty service"—like that’s the issue, and not the fact that this place has an ecosystem of mold growing in almost every room. You're expected to work the night shift on your own for the third week in a row and run around after the losers that come in here night after night with a smile.

A sharp ding rings through the room, making you look up toward the door from the counter you are dragging your cloth against.

A man steps in, letting the door slam shut behind him. He walks over to the counter and sits on a stool, keeping his head down and resting his heavy arms on the worn laminate.

"Can I get anything for you, sir?" you ask quietly, not wanting to disturb him more than necessary.

His broad shoulders tense, his large hands balling into fists. "Coffee, black," he grunts.

You nod politely and head into the back to brew a fresh pot. The machine starts buzzing loudly, sending vibrations through the floor. Then, it starts gargling. With a sudden, loud bang, a plume of gray smoke rises from the lid.

"Shit... shit! Shit! Shit! Shit!" you curse, hitting the side of the metal machine.

You stand there, glaring at this sad excuse for electronics, and let out a defeated sigh. How are you going to explain this to the grumpy men sitting just behind the wall? Stepping out of the kitchen, your hands tremble slightly with a nervous hope that they won't kick your head in.

"I'm really sorry, guys. Erm... the coffee machine just bro—"

Before you can even finish your sentence, the tired trucker stands up, scowling, and storms out into the freezing night.

"—broke," you finish, your voice trailing off. You look at the man in the grease-stained jacket, then back to the tall newcomer. "However... if either of you wanna take a crack at fixing it... go ahead, I guess. I'll put some coffee on the stove, but it'll take... longer."

You scuff the linoleum with the front of your heel, the silence echoing through the room. Unsurprisingly, the man in the grease-stained jacket slides off his stool and slips out too, leaving his glass behind.

You turn back and head into the kitchen. Your hands are shaking slightly from the anxiety of the night. Lighting a match, you chuck it onto the stove and place a metal pot on top.

then, you hear the sound of the kitchen doors swinging open behind you, forcing you to turn away from the warmth of the newly lit fire.

You turn around, half-expecting the guy in the grease-stained jacket to have changed his mind, but instead, it’s the tall newcomer.

Up close, he is even more massive than he looked from across the counter. He has to duck his head slightly to clear the low-hanging doorframe of the kitchen, his broad shoulders practically filling the narrow, fluorescent-lit space. He’s wearing a heavy, dark jacket, and his face is partially shadowed by the brim of his cap.

You grip the handle of the cold metal pot a little tighter, suddenly realizing how small you are compared to him. "Oh," you breathe, your voice a little raspy from the cold. "You... actually want to take a look at it?"

The man stops a few feet away, keeping his hands in his pockets. He looks at the smoking, ruined coffee machine, then slowly looks over at you.

When he raises his head, the harsh kitchen light catches his face. He looks rugged, with a heavy five o'clock shadow and a faint, faded scar near his temple. He looks like a man who has seen his fair share of rough nights. But as his dark eyes lock onto yours, his hard expression softens slightly. There’s a sudden quiet in the air as he watches you intensely, his eyes slowly gliding down your body.

"Said you needed a hand," he grunts. His voice is a deep, rough gravelly rumble, but he speaks so quietly it's almost a whisper. "Used to do some mechanical work. Simple enough to check the heating element."

"Right. Yeah. Thanks," you mumble, slowly letting go of the pot and pouring the coffee grounds into the water. The rich scent of dark roast slowly begins to fill the damp, cold air.

"This place is a dump," Frank grunts from below, the clinking of metal tools echoing in the quiet room. "Manager ought to be shot for letting a lady work in a freezer like this."

A dry, bitter laugh escapes your chest before you can stop it. "Tell me about it. My manager doesn't care. He's probably asleep in his warm bed right now. Meanwhile, I've got to stand here in these..." You stop yourself, looking down at your cheap, stupid heels that are currently throbbing with a dull ache.

Frank pauses his work. He slowly stands back up, holding a dusty screwdriver. His eyes immediately trail down to your feet, then back up to your face. The furrow in his brow deepens, looking almost angry—but it's a protective, possessive kind of anger.

"He makes you wear those?" Frank asks, his voice dropping an octave, a dangerous edge sliding into his tone. "To run around on greasy floors for eight hours?"

"Yeah," you sigh, leaning your hip against the counter, suddenly feeling the weight of your exhaustion crushing you. "Says it makes the diner look 'pretty.' Says customers like it."

Frank lets out a low noise of disgust. He steps closer, closing the distance between you until you can smell the faint scent of rain, leather, and cheap cologne on him. He towers over you, but his hands remain gentle as he gestures toward the prep chair where his jacket is.

"Sit down," he says softly.

"I have to watch the stove—"

"I'll watch the stove," Frank interrupts, his dark eyes glaring at you intensely, practically demanding you to let him help. "Please, sweetheart. Sit. Let me look at the machine, and you rest your feet."

The word sweetheart rolls off his tongue so naturally it makes a strange, fluttering sensation spark in your stomach. You look at his huge, intimidating frame, deciding to let him help.

Slowly, hesitatingly, you walk over to the chair and sit down with a loud sigh. "I'm not supposed to be sitting on company time. My manager watches the camera to make sure I'm not slacking. He's probably gonna kill me for this," you say, resting your elbow on the metal counter and letting your head sink into the palm of your hand.

His eyes drift up to the flickering camera, the air going thick for a moment. Without a word, he walks over and jams the metallic end of the screwdriver directly into the glass dome. It shatters with a sharp crack, and he shoves the broken casing to the side, letting it flop uselessly to face the top of a cabinet.

"Let's see him try," he grumbles.

He walks back over and kneels in front of the broken machine again, the fabric of his shirt stretching tight across his massive shoulders as he goes to work. The steady, rhythmic clink-clink of metal tools and the hum of the blue flame on the stove are the only sounds in the cramped kitchen.

"So, you got a name?" you ask quietly.

"Frank," he responds bluntly still clattering away with the mashine.

From your chair, you have no choice but to watch him. The heat from his discarded jacket draped over your lap is heavy and warm. Between that deep warmth and the exhaustion dragging at your limbs, your brain starts to slow down, your eyes fluttering closed every so often.

"So," you murmur, your voice sounding small even to your own ears. "You always go around fixing coffee machines for strangers at three in the morning?"

Frank pauses. He slowly turns his head, looking at you over his shoulder. Up close, his dark eyes are incredibly intense, heavy-lidded and tracking the way you're slumped in the chair.

"Only for pretty girls who look like they're about to collapse," he murmurs with a raspy chuckle.

Your cheeks instantly flare with heat. Normally, a comment like that from a strange man in a dark diner would make your guard go up. But under his heavy, unblinking gaze, your mind just... stumbles. Pretty girl. The words ring in your ears, feeling strangely heavy. You try to think of a witty, sarcastic comeback—something to show him you aren't that easy—but your brain feels like it's trying to run through wet cement.

"I'm not... I'm not that pretty," you mumble, the defense weak and childish.

Frank stops working entirely. He lays the screwdriver down with a quiet clatter and stands up. He towers over you, his massive frame completely cutting off the light from the stove. The sheer size of him is overwhelming, making you feel incredibly delicate, tiny, and fragile sitting in that metal chair.

He steps closer, until the tips of his heavy boots are almost touching the heels of your stupid, painful shoes.

"Yes, you are," he rumbles, his voice dropping into a low, commanding register that seems to vibrate right through your skin. "Don't say things like that about yourself. You're so pretty, sweetheart... even covered in dishwater and grease."

Your breath catches in your throat. You stare up at him, your mouth parting slightly. The room suddenly feels incredibly hot. The steam from the boiling pot on the stove is rising, wrapping around you, making the air thick and heavy. Or maybe it’s just him. He is so big. So warm.

But the closeness doesn't last for long. He turns away, going back to silently working on the machine. You trail off in thought, hypnotized, watching the muscles in his broad back stretch while he works. You stretch out and yawn, hearing the water suddenly bubble over. You start to stand to turn off the heat, but a heavy voice cuts through the steam.

"No. Sit," he demands, dropping the screwdriver on the floor beside him and quickly standing. "I said I got it, understand?"

He grumbles, sliding in between you and the stove. His large back completely blocks the flame from you, and a sudden draft of cold hits your face at the loss of the fire. The click of the stove turning off and the clank of the coffee pot leaving the burner are dulled by the wall of muscle only inches from your face.

He shuffles past you, grabbing two ceramic mugs from the rack, and places them down, filling each with the boiling coffee.

"You take milk?" he questions quietly, placing the pot on the hot plate.

"You're the customer, I should be doing this stuff," you say with a weak giggle, feeling your skin flush from his sheer presence and his quiet, commanding kindness.

You don't think you've ever met a man like this before. Most customers in this dump would slap you on the ass as you walked past, or shout at you for not cooking them a huge meal even though the kitchen closed at 9:00 PM. But Frank... something about him makes you completely relax. The radiating warmth of his body, the way he speaks to you with such calm confidence—it makes all the walls you spent years building up simply crumble.

It’s slightly scary, how vulnerable you feel. Your body is too tired to run, your brain too fixated on the way his fingers move, the way his muscles tense, the way his scent has completely filled the small room to even care. You can feel yourself already weakening, your mind slowing down, getting comfortable.

"Milk, yes or no?" he asks again, placing the mugs down in front of you.

The sharp clink of the ceramic hitting the metal counter snaps you out of your daze.

"B-black's... fine..." Your words are slow, dragged out.

His warm, heavy hand gently touches your cheek. "You're cold. Drink up while it's still hot," he says, looking intensely into your eyes.

Your lips part slightly, your breath quickening. The dry, rough feel of his calloused thumb against your cold, sensitive skin sends a sharp, tingling jolt straight down your spine. Your eyes flutter, a soft, helpless whimper escaping your throat before you can catch it.

Your brain completely glitches. The thought of your manager, the cameras, the freezing diner—it all just dissolves, leaving nothing but the heavy sensation of his hand on your skin.

"You're shakin'," he observes, his voice thick and possessive. His thumb strokes your cheekbone again, and you find yourself leaning your head into his touch, your mind going completely quiet. There is a silence for what seems like forever, nothing but the warmth of his touch swimming through your mind.

"So soft. Just a sweet, pretty little thing, aren't you?" he says quietly.

You realize he can probably see exactly how much you're enjoying this, but you don't think you care all that much anymore. You nod slowly, looking him in the eyes, letting your mouth fall slightly more open. His thumb, which had been sliding against your cheek, glides further across to brush the corner of your lips.

"You like that, hmm? Open your mouth for me a bit more, sweetheart," he says, moving even closer until the tips of his heavy boots align with your heels. His hand shifts, cupping your jaw firmly while his thumb slides across your lower lip.

"Sss-bbs-sw...?" you babble, letting out a few small, helpless noises. You aren't quite sure of your own words anymore as your mouth falls open naturally.

"Such a good girl for me. Let me take care of you, okay? Do you understand, sweetheart?" he says, a dark, pleased smile spreading across his lips.

He pushes the tip of his thumb into your mouth, pressing it against your tongue, slowly swiping the saliva that has built up there.

"Close," he orders, his gentle voice drawing out the word.

You let your lips lock around his thumb, the swirling saliva being played with, pushing the last remaining thoughts right out of your head. You gently start to suck, the taste of metal and salt filling your mouth.

"Oh, sweetheart... you're doing so good. I didn't even have to ask," he smirks. His free hand gently plays with your hair, twirling the strands around his thick, scarred fingers.

With a slow, deliberate pull, he tugs his thumb out of your mouth with a soft pop, letting a thin string of saliva drip down your chin. He carefully wipes the wetness from your face with the back of his hand.

"Fuck, baby doll. I didn't think this is what would be happening tonight."

His hand pushes through your hair, angling your head up so you have no choice but to look at him. Heat rushes through your body, pooling into a pit of desperation in your stomach. He carefully grips your waist, his strength effortless as he lifts you to sit on the prep table, making you much easier to access.

His large hands move back to your face, cupping the sides of your head, completely framing your face.

"So pretty... so, so pretty... You want me to touch you? You want that, baby girl?"

His face is so close to yours that his breath hot on your lips makes your entire body flutter. You nod. It's barely a movement, but a nod nonetheless.

"You seemed so confident earlier," he whispers, a teasing rumble in his chest. "Where's all that gone, mhm? Not a single thought behind those eyes now."

He slides his hand down, moving under your crumpled skirt. You let out a high, needy whine as his thick fingers press against your underwear, instantly finding the wet patch that is growing by the second.

"I wanna keep you, sweet girl... look after you. Let your pretty moans be the only thing I hear when I get home. You want that? Let Daddy take care of you."

You lean back slightly, pushing your weight helplessly against his hand, nodding over and over. You find yourself grinding against the tough pads of his fingers, getting entirely too needy, too desperate.

His other hand moves to your collar, slowly undoing the top few buttons of your shirt to reveal your bra.

"Oh, princess. That looks so pretty."

He leans down, his lips grazing small, warm kisses across your sensitive skin.

"Pl-ppp-pllleee~ mhhhh....~ mhhh," a litter of pathetic, broken whines leaves your mouth, taunting him, begging him for more.

Just as you start to find a rhythm, pushing your weight against his palm, the heat vanishes. Frank pulls his hand back, leaving you completely exposed to the freezing kitchen air. You whimper, a cold shiver racking your body as the damp draft hits your wet underwear. You reach for him, your clumsy hands clutching at his chest, but he gently pins your wrists to the metal table.

"Nooo~" you cry out, tears filling your eyes, the words coming out way more pathetic than intended.

"No? Oh, so you can speak. You gotta be patient for me, sweet girl," he mocks.

You wriggle against his restraint. "Come on, baby doll, you gotta talk for me. I need to know this is what you want. Tell me what you want me to do to you." His voice is low, but his tone is sickly sweet. You whine again, this time in frustration, a single tear rolling down your cheek, pouting like it'll change his mind.

He pulls both your wrists together gently to hold them with one hand, reaching with the other to wipe the tear away.

"Don't cry, baby, it's okay... I'll take care of you. I just need you to tell me what you want," he comforts, letting go of you again, this time releasing your arms too.

He moves back, grabbing your ankle and slowly sliding the cheap heel from your foot, then doing it again with the other, leaving you in your socks as the worn footwear clatters to the floor.

"That feel better?" he asks, sliding his hands up and down the bottoms of your feet, then up the back of your aching calves.

You let out a sigh of relief, feeling the pain dulling. Your brain is so fogged up you struggle to remember why they were hurting in the first place. You try telling him what you want, the muscles in your mouth feeling useless, the words coming out as pathetic noises.

"P-please mo—ugh, more." The words come out stretched and muffled.

He wraps his hand around your jaw, squishing your cheeks. "You want more, sweetheart? Tell me what you want. Use your words."

You try. You really try. "P-pl... p-pleee..."

"Please what, baby girl?" he coos, his other hand gently tracing the thick of your inner thigh. "Pretty girls ask nicely. What do you want Daddy to do?"

Your mind is totally blank. The only thing in your head is the warmth of his skin and the desperate throb between your thighs. You can't think of the word. You just whine, shaking your head.

"Well, I can't help you then... can I?" he chuckles, the skin around his eyes crinkling.

You try scooting yourself toward the edge of the table, desperate for the feeling to return, desperate for him to bury his cock inside of you.

"Please, f-fuck m-me, please, please," you whine, finally managing to get the words out.

He smiles. "See, baby doll? All you had to do is ask."

He slides your underwear down, unhooking it from one leg and letting it dangle from one foot. He pulls you forward enough to let you lie back, your hair pillowing your head against the counter. He pushes your skirt up, crumbling it around your waist.

"...Such a pretty pussy. If you hadn't asked so nicely, I’d devour you right on this table, sweetheart," he groans, letting his thick fingers explore you, making you shiver and whimper.

Suddenly, his head snaps up toward the swinging doors. His arms bracket your head on the table in a protective, commanding stance. He leans down real close, his hot breath brushing your ear.

"Shhh... shh, baby girl. Someone just walked in."

You hear his words, but they don't quite register. Your brain is too busy spiraling, the cold kitchen air making your sensitive skin break out in goosebumps. You just watch, dazed, as he disappears through the swinging doors.

There’s a brief mumble of voices on the other side of the wall. A harsh, low rumble from Frank, followed by the sound of the front door chime ringing again as the customer quickly thinks better of it and leaves.

Just as quickly as he disappeared, Frank strides back into the kitchen. He is aggressively pulling his belt off with a metallic clank, his zipper trailing down.

"Asshole..." he grunts, his jaw clenched in pure, protective anger. "If those are the kinds of dudes you have to deal with every night, I swear to God I'm never letting you step foot in this dump again."

His quiet ranting phases out as he steps between your thighs. Your brain completely blocks out his words, focusing entirely on the excruciatingly hot sensation of his thick tip rubbing up and down your entrance.

Your desperate, needy whines instantly snap him out of his anger. His eyes trail over your flushed, helpless face, and his expression softens completely. His free hand slides up under your shirt, his warm palm rubbing your tummy softly to soothe your shaking body.

"I'm sorry, sweetheart. Daddy got a bit angry for a second there," he whispers, his voice thick. "Back to your pretty face. How's that feel?"

You can't even answer. You just beg, repeating "please" over and over because it’s the only word your melted brain can conjure.

He slides inside you. It’s an incredibly tight, heavy fit, and you can feel your body stretching to accommodate him. Slowly, he slips almost all the way back out, leaving only the leaking tip inside before bucking deep into you again. His pace is steady and demanding, his large hands wrapping securely under your hips to hold you in place as he drives you against the metal table.

Your hands reach up, grabbing onto his thick biceps, your fingernails digging into his skin as you try to anchor yourself. You whimper and moan, filling the gaps in the quiet kitchen with pathetic, slurred pleases, completely desperate for your orgasm.

He keeps fucking into you, grunting and groaning as he pushes you closer and closer to the edge.

"You wanna cum, sweet thing?" he asks, watching your eyes roll back.

You nod frantically. "Please... please... ughhh, please, please... mhhhggmmm..."

You can't focus. The feeling of him pushing in and out of you has rendered your mind entirely useless. You are right on the cliff. Your moans get louder, echoing in the empty diner, your legs trembling helplessly against his sides.

"Fuck... you look so pretty like this," he groans.

His words are the final thread snapping, tumbling you over the edge into a crashing, blinding orgasm. You twitch and shake beneath him, your mind completely white. He keeps fucking you right through your climax, his own breath catching as he follows you over, groaning loud as he buries himself as deep as he can go and fills you.

Your head is completely empty. The room is spinning in your dazed, overstimulated state.

Frank rests his forehead against yours for a moment, catching his breath, before slowly pulling out. You let out a weak whimper at the loss of him.

"You did so well for me, sweetheart," he whispers, kissing your sweaty forehead. He pulls up his jeans and fastens his belt, his eyes never leaving you.

He looks down at your ruined, stained uniform, then at the cheap, painful heels sitting abandoned on the floor. His eyes darken with a quiet resolve.

"You wanna leave this place?" he asks, his voice quiet but intense.

You nod breathlessly, completely incapable of making a decision for yourself.

"Good girl." Gently, he unbuttons your uniform shirt himself, sliding it off your arms with tender care. He grabs a clean paper towel from the dispenser to gently wipe you down, keeping you comfortable, before chucking the ruined shirt and those stupid, painful heels directly into the trash bin.

He wraps his massive, warm jacket around your bare shoulders, zipping it up so it covers your body almost completely like a giant blanket. He scoops you up into his arms, lifting your weight effortlessly against his chest.

You had known Matt since college—I mean, it was an on-and-off type of situation. You had found out about his secret "hobby" one night when he stumbled into your apartment, the rain hammering against your window. He showed up bleeding and desperate for help.

​This had become a routine. Late at night, he'd come crawling through your window or banging on your door when a fight had gone south. Tonight seemed different, though. I mean, sure, he was definitely hurt. His blood dripped from your window sill where he slid through, and there was a pool of rain on your carpet.

​Your keys jingled in your hand as you opened your door, the mess becoming apparent the second you entered.

​"God, Matt, I just had this cleaned," you whined into the room.

​A soft chuckle came from your couch. "I'm sorry, sweet girl. I'll make sure it's cleaned for you. Desperate times and all that." He sat up with a grunt, hand to his chest.

​You locked your door, moving towards the first aid kit that was kept on standby after one too many times of using your good alcohol to clean out his wounds. You crouched down next to the sofa and started lifting his shirt to get a better look.

​"Whoa, whoa, what's the rush, hmm?" he asked, his hand meeting yours, his body arching forward to lean his face close to yours. "No small talk? I love our conversations," he said softly, his hand moving up the side of your face, smearing blood from his hands on your cheek.

​"I'm tired, Matt. We do this little song and dance every week. I'm starting to believe you are letting them hit you just so you can slide in here and bleed on my floors," you said with an honest sigh.

​He scoffed, moving back down to the sofa, letting you start to clear away the blood. The silence was long and awkward, nothing but the occasional sound of sirens passing.

​Suddenly, his breath hitched and a long whine of pain rang across the room—drawn-out cursing as his body stretched, trying to stop the pain.

​"Stay still," you warned, wiping away the blood trailing from his ribs, down his abs, to his hips. You carefully slid a needle through the skin, starting to close the wound.

​His hand wrapped around the muscle of your arm gently. "Please, sweetheart, talk to me," he begged.

​You started mumbling something to him about work stress, some crazy dude showing up in the cafe you work at. The wounds finally closed up, letting you bandage them. He slowly sat up with a grunt, thanking you with a smile.

​Your eyes scanned over his chest, looking over the scars and bruising for any other open areas.

​"You know I can feel you watching me," he said with a smugness in his voice.

​"I'm trying to make sure you don't die," you muttered with an eye roll.

​You moved away from the sofa to the sink, wiping away the blood from your hands and face. You unbuttoned your blouse slightly, enough to reveal your chest, trying to cool off. You felt his warm body press against your back, his hands wrapping around your waist, and one hand traveling up to your chest.

​"Mmmh, I thought you were mad at me for a second, but one more move and this would slide right off," he said, his fingers traveling into the top of your bra, touching the soft skin.

​"It's not for you, asshole. It's hot in here and I want to sleep," you hissed, moving away from him. "You come over, bleed on my floor, my bed, my sofa, my walls, everywhere. We fuck, you leave. Same every time. I'm tired, Matt."

​He moved in close, pushing the hair from in front of your face slowly. You knew he could hear your heart pounding in anger; you knew he could feel the sweat pooling on your skin.

​"I'm sorry, I really am. I'm just trying to keep this city safe. A good work-life balance has never exactly been my forte," he whispered, moving close to your neck, his lip brushing against the skin. Soft kisses trailed up your neck, his hands meeting your waist again.

​Tears pricked your eyes. It hurt because you cared so deeply about him, but every time you felt yourself relaxing around him, he disappeared without a trace.

​"I'm so sorry, sweetheart. I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to feel every inch of your skin. I want you, but..." he trailed off in guilt.

​"But the city is more important. I get it," you snapped. You pulled him closer to you, inches away from his lips. "If this is a game to you, leave now and never come back. But if this is what you want, kiss me right n—"

​His lips met yours before you could even finish your sentence. Desperate, hungry—like he was searching for that piece of love in you, the bit that lets him stay. His hands moved to your clothes, undoing the rest of the buttons, moving the fabric from your skin.

​You both moved towards your bedroom, lips still intertwined. Greedy hands explored each other's skin like it was still the first time. Your fingers traveled across the ripples of scars on his skin, the strained muscles in his back. Your back hit the wall of your bedroom, the damp coldness of it sending ripples of goosebumps across your body.

​His lips left yours, letting you catch your breath. His mouth traveled down your neck and onto your chest. He pulled on the straps of your bra, letting them slip off your shoulders, reaching around to undo it. The fabric slumped onto the floor around your feet.

​His tongue slid across your breast, hitting the hard nub of your nipple. His mouth latched around it, his tongue swirling around it. The saliva was warm and stringed between you and his mouth as he moved to the other side.

​His hands moved to the backs of your thighs and pulled you up into his arms.

​"Matt, you're gonna hurt yourself picking me up," you whined.

​The fabric of his mask rubbed against your skin while his mouth still sucked on your nipples. He didn't respond, lost in his excitement. You could feel his bulge against your underwear. Your skirt was ridden up against the fat of your thigh, the tight fabric digging into your skin.

​Your head hit your pillow. You watched him pull off his shoes and undo his belt, letting his trousers hit the floor. A loud creak echoed through the room as he climbed onto the bed, his hands pushing your skirt up, letting the fabric ripple and crease around your waist. His fingers hooked around your underwear, pulling them to the side, exposing your cunt to the cold wind flowing through the room.

​The feeling didn't last long, though. His mouth connected with it before your mind could process. A loud moan escaped your mouth. His tongue slid up and down, making sloppy noises, swirling around and around your clit, building up a tension that made your legs shake.

​"Fuck—Matt, honey, that feels amazing," you moaned, your nails digging into the pillows surrounding your head.

​"You think you're ready for me, hmm?" he mumbled.

​"Y-yes, yes," you yelled, your voice shaking. "You need to be careful—I—fuck, I don't want you to hurt yourself."

​He moved himself up, propping himself above you, his muscular arm against the headboard. He pulled down his boxers, his length bouncing down, precum sliding down the tip, dripping from it onto the bedsheets. He leaned down, his face close to yours again, lining himself up.

​"Wait—take off the mask. I want to look at you."

​He usually left it on in times like this. Maybe it was so he could slip away back into the night; maybe it was his way of keeping his cards close to his chest, keeping his distance, making sure you didn't get too attached to him being around.

​He did take it off this time, sliding the black fabric from his face. Bruising covered his upper face—dark purple bruises and swelling circled around his eyes and nose.

​"Oh, Matt..." your fingers traced them.

​"What, am I really that bad-looking?" he said with a soft laugh.

​You scoffed in response. "No, of course not... I just... didn't realize... Who? Who would do this?" your voice was hushed.

​He leaned back closer, planting soft kisses on your face. "That doesn't matter, sweetheart. It's unimportant right now. All I care about right now... is you." His voice was so calm, so soft it melted away at your worry.

​His tip slid across your entrance, his wetness mixing with yours between your legs. "So soft, so warm... shit—please, sweetheart. Can I? God, please," he begged, soft whines between his words.

​You agreed, your fingers sliding through his damp hair. You felt him push into you, filling the aching space. Your face turned flush, lewd noises filling the room.

​He moved slow at first, very, very slow, like he was trying to explore every inch of you in a way he hadn't before. He'd normally rush, be rough with you, never whimper, never speak—just grunts. This felt different. His soft whines and whimpers, his voice so desperate like a man who was starving.

​His hips started bucking back and forth quickly, his hand sliding into yours, holding you closely, kissing your skin between praises. "Oh, my sweet girl—you're taking me so well. You feel so good."

​You were so close to coming, your body feeling like it was vibrating, a veil of euphoria covering your body.

​"Matt—please, I'm so close."

​You felt your body tip over the edge, your orgasm rippling through your body.

​"That's such a good girl. Yes—yes, sweetheart, let it out," he praised, his breath quickening, making him pant.

​His orgasm followed close behind, his heat coating your insides, the warmth only extending your climax.

tags: fem reader, eddie, fuffy at times ,drug missuse, smoking, pinv sex, minor knife play mention, tummy bulge mention, messy sex.

it was such a boring night in hawkins, there had been a continuous rattling of rain on the roof of the trailer all day. tape after tape going in and out of the player quietly playing Metallica on repeat.

eddie had been lieing on the bed dozing in and out of sleep almost all day and you had been sat upright back against the headboard reading through the pile on comics that Eddie had stacked next to the bed that had been slowly gathering dust.

you let out a loud huff in boredom placing down the comic you had just finished on the top of the pile. you slide off the side of the bed and walk through the trailer to grab some water. glass in hand u walk towards the window taking in the view of the rain watching it splash against the window. your mind fighting to find something to do.

your thoughts are interrupted by the sound of Eddie walking into the room with a loud yawn, his shirt lifting as he stretched. he always looks cutest like this, messy bed hair, quieter than usual theres always a softness to his presents. he walks up behind you wrapping his arms around your waist holding you close leaving gentle kisses down your neck and shoulder. you both stand there for a moment not knowing what else to do because in reality there was nothing you could do.

"I'm gonna have a smoke" he says letting go of you, grabbing his kit from the kitchen side, the sudden lack of body heat making you shiver. "could you roll me one please?" you ask. "of course princess " he replies already rolling a joint between his fingers looking at you as he runs his tongue across the paper. he hands the first one to you and starts rolling one for himself.

once he finishes he slides the end into his mouth and pushes his hair from his face. the door opens with a loud creek and a slam as the door connects with the wall. he pulls a chair towards the door sitting resting his feet against the doorframe small specals of rain hit his legs and socks. the flick of the lighter followed by the blaze draw your eyes toward him.

he looks hot usually but you are one of very few people who get to see him like this maybe the only person. when hes not being overly performative or trying hard to look like he doesn't care. he looks relaxed, his stomach peaking from under his t-shirt, his boxers fitting in all the right places, his semi muscular legs stretched out. he was fully dressed at one point in the day he had ran out to make a quick deal in the early hours of the morning but as the day had progressed he had been getting slowly less and lesser clothed.

his arm lent against the chair his head resting ontop of it. his face mostly covered by his hair as he smokes away. you light your own walking over to his side his arm moving from supporting his head to wrap around your hips his head resting on your thigh.

"you know i have something we could try." he mumbles "oh yeah?" you reply willing to do anything to escape the boredom. he stands suddenly walking over to the metal lunchbox on the counter digging through it looking for something. you steal his seat letting the small tingles of your high waft over you.

"I've had it for a while never tried it before but it could kill some time." he says holding 2 small pills in his hand. you take it examining it. it's small pink with a heart on it with a kind of chalk texture. "you want to try it?" he asks. you nod taking it quickly following it with the water u placed on the side. he follows right behind you taking it too.

some time had passed and the weed you had smoked was long gone from your systems. you are back on the bed waiting to feel something. "eddie how long is it supposed to take to kick in." you ask your head relaxed in his bicep his warmth surroundings you. "not long" he mutters not moving much.

not much longer later you feel a sudden rush of warmth hit your body making you feel uncomfortable. you stand pushing open the window in Eddie's room hoping to cool down you pace back and forth for a while trying to let the cool air hit you. Eddie sits up in the bed watching you pace. his face flushed and teeth chattering slightly while small beads of sweat run down his forehead. he slides his shirt off hoping to cool of himself.

he seems slightly nervous making small talk every so often. "my sweet girl, come sit down you will wear yourself out." he says his chest raising quicker than normal. you do sit but move around the bed for a while trying to find a comfortable position. he softly runs his fingers through your hair distracting you from the fuzzy feeling in your chest. giving you soft praises every so often. "shh~ your such a good girl" " your doing so good for me."

that feeling of warmth slowly drains away from your body leaving you tingly. you move up next to Eddie getting as close as possible. you feel strange like if he's not super close to you you might cry. you run your fingers up and down his chest feeling small sparks and tingles on your finger tips. his skin is slightly damp from sweat not that it's bothering you but you seem to notice it more. you notice the small freckles dotted across his body you notice small scars you had never seen before. his hands move through your hair while your doing this shooting strings of tingles down your spine.

a small moan escapes his lips your fingers had explored further down his body sliding up and down his now hard cock through the fabric of his boxers. his hands start explore your skin with an interest moving round your sensitive body making you shake. "i love you so much." you whimper as he leans in to kiss you. one of his hands hand made it's way under your t-shirt and to your breast the other reaching down to your underwear. leaving you breathless and moaning into his mouth. you and slid his underwear down at this point pumping his cock with your hand feeling pools of pre cum gathering at the dip between your thumb and pointer. "please Eddie please i want to feel you please i need to be close." you whimper looking into his eyes his pupils blown to cover the colour of his eyes.

he pulls you onto his lap his cock resting against his tummy leaving a trail of glossy mess at the tip. he reaches over to the side table grabbing his pocket knife flicking it to a short pointy one with a clink noise. he carefully holds the knife against your skin moving it down towards the hip of your underwear ripping straight through it. he moves it again to align with the fabric against your aching cunt. the knife slides behind the fabric the cold of the metal against the pouch above your pussy makes you shiver. with a careful swift move he rips through it again he grabs the remaining fabric pulling it from your body leaving you exposed. placing the knife back where it was.

he lifts your hips sliding his cock deep inside of you with a squelching noise. you see the outline of him inside of you pocking from your tummy. "holy shit." he says running his finger around the outline, the sensation making both of you twitch.

holding you tightly he begins lifting and slamming you back down on his cock watching the outline moving. he pulls your top fully off to get a better view.

a mess from both of u gather around his base leading to it being super noisy. you both are in complete ecstasy. it seems to go on forever, the sensation of him fucking you bringing you to orgasm multiple times. you can't tell if Eddie already game or not he just keep going. you could periodically feel him release into you but you are never sure if he's done yet. he continues using you as a human fleshlight until he is done muttering praise to you over and over as he does.

time seemed to not exist anymore you couldn't tell if it had been minutes, hours, days even but it felt amazing.

tags: fem reader, Eddie, grinding, smoking, 🍃 smoking, kinda toxic?, crying, argument.

you sit on Eddie's bed watching the time tick by longer and longer. you knew exactly where he was and what he was doing not that it made it better. it always felt awkward waiting around at his house. even tho his uncle was working a night shift it felt strange being in his home without him. you had been hanging out with him most of the morning but you both knew he had hellfire that afternoon but this was ridiculous. he said he'd be back at 11 but it was now almost 1am. he was always slightly longer than he said he would be but 2 hours? you had considered just going home but Eddie had left the door unlocked, taking his key with him. in your impatients you had paced the trailer several times, listened to almost all the tapes he had strewn across his draws and smoked half a pack of cigarettes. u had rummaged through his draws finding notebooks filled with songs, bags of weed, and the dirty Polaroids you had taken together. you decided to smoke some of the weed hoping you would calm down before he got home.

the clock had just hit 1:30 am when you see a truck pull in. it was Eddie's uncles truck they shared. you was sat in the doorway resting your feet on the step of the trailer joint in hand looking pissed. Eddie almost instantly jumps out jogging over to u. "im so sorry sweetheart it went on for way longer than planned I didn't realise the time." he says as he almost reaches the door. you dont even look at him just put the joint out in the ashtray standing up and walking inside. he follows you inside profusely apologising. you play on the tape in the player then start grabbing your stuff from the floor.

"no no baby where are u going?" he says with pleading eyes trying to take the clothes from your hands. "home" you say snatching the clothes back from him giving him a cold look. "im sorry ok?" he begs. "yeah same as you have been the past god how many times. you leave me alone for hours with nothing to do and im fuckin sick of it! you take longer and longer to get home. im not doing this anymore." you yell putting the last few things in your bag. you sit on the edge of the bed trying to pull on your boots but he kneels down by your feet trying to stop you. "would you fuck off?" you say shooting him another look. you give up and just sling the boots over your shoulders by the laces and grab your bag walking through the trailer and down the step barefoot.

you start walking away when you hear him come up behind you and he grabs your shoulder turning you around. "look i said I'm sorry, can we please talk this out? " he pleads. "you wanna talk? fine let's talk." you say dropping your stuff to the floor. "you abandon me in your house for hours every few nights just to play some stupid game. then walk in the door and expect me to be perfectly fine with it. I dont mind u playing your games but why invite me to stay if your not going to be there? im not one of your toys u can just play with when you feel like it!" you yell tears streaming down your frozen cheeks.

"it's not a stupid game and I told you I didn't mean to be late!" he yells back. this just fules your anger further making it finally bubble over causing the fight get worse going back and forth both getting angrier at each other.

you cut through the argument landing a slap across his cheek. leaving a sudden silence in the air that seems to drag on for ages. "im- im sorry." you say quietly.

he abruptly grabs you slinging you over his shoulder, grabbing your bag and shoes carrying you back to the trailer slamming the door behind him. he throws you onto the bed not looking at you. you try and read his expression but you can't tell what is going through his head. he throws your stuff back on the floor. he squats down at the end of the bed and grabs your legs pulling your hips to the edge of the bed.

you sit up looking at him. "again." he orders. leaving u shocked. "what?" you ask confused. "again." he repeats in that same tone. you just look at him for a moment. "come on princess your not stupid I know you can follow an order I'm not repeating myself anymore." he says in such an mocking time it makes u twitch in anger. you land another slap on his cheek slightly harder than before leaving a small red mark on his cheek. "see wasn't that hard was it?" he says in that mocking tone. "you feel better now? " he says looking deep into your eyes like he's searching for the answer. you nod slightly, still thrown off by his sudden shift in tone.

he once again grabs you lifting you into his arms moving round to the side of the bed sitting down with you in his lap. "let's talk it out sweetheart, while I make it up to you." he says softly, pushing your hair from your face. the pressure of his thigh between your legs and his hand softly drifting through your hair distracts you from your anger. you move your hips slightly feeling a sensation flow through your body. "aw sweetheart does that feel nice?" he says holding your hip with one hand and gently stroking your hoar with the other. "come on baby talk to me, ill fix it i promise." he says smoothly.

you begin slowly explaining as your hips rock back and forth against his leg. "I'm genuinely so sorry sweetheart it really am, if you want i can bring you with me? I don't mean for it to run over time so much we just get so into it but I promise even if you don't wanna come ill make sure to be back on time." he says planting a kiss on your forehead. you nod "I'd like that- mmhh~ I'd like to come play with y- fuck- you guys." you say letting out moans between. "are we ok now?" he asks. you nod before dropping your head into his chest feeling yourself getting closer and closer to cumming. "just let it out sweetheart." he whispers leaving kisses along your neck. you feel yourself start to cum the rush feeling amazing. your fingers tangle in his hair pulling it slightly.

"such a good girl."

tags: femreader, Eddie munson, pinv, rough sex, gag, hair pulling, public sex, groaping, unprotected

eddie can never keep his hands off you constantly grabbing at you, reaching under your clothes and pulling you into side rooms to pound you stupid. no matter where you are he wants you, that dark look crossing his face leaving you squirming in excitement wondering what he is going to do with you.

on this particular day he was more impatient and desperate than usual you had been sat watching a movie in the cinema, it was some horror movie that had been released recently but you couldn't pay attention to anything happening.

after sitting down in your seats and getting comfortable watching the opening scenes you feel the sensation of cold metal sliding against your leg followed by the tips of fingers dragging up and down your inner thigh. you feel your face flush trying to concentrate on the screen. the sensation flows further and further up your leg until it reaches under your dress the tip of his finger gently graising against the soft fabric of your underwear. your eyes shoot over to Eddie's face he looks relaxed, bored even, resting his head on his hand his eyes carefully flowing across the screen as if he wasn't currently teasing you. luckily the cinema is mostly empty only a few couples scattered across the rows of seats. you feel a mixture of feelings pumping through your body, excitement, nervousness and a desperate need for him to ruin you. his fingers had started pressing against you a more intentional touch, you know its not long before he's balls deep in you but you decide to play his game and completely ignore him. you focus yourself back on the screen. trying desperately to zone out the feeling of him rubbing you through your underwear.

after a while you notice his eyes darting over to u every so often. his fingers abruptly slide past the fabric wall the sudden move making you jump and let out a small noise. you settle back into your seat trying to play it off as the haunting creature on the screen making you jump. his fingers push against your hole not quite sliding in but enough for your body to tense up and your hand to grip tightly to the cheap squeaky fabric of the cinema. "what's wrong sweetheart, to scary for ya'?" he says looking into your eyes that had slightly glassed over.

"eddie please" you quietly whimper against his ear. his deminor seems to change his fist clenching and his breath getting heavy. his thick fingers suddenly push past your folds hitting deep inside of you. you can see his cock pushing against his pants twitching routinely causing his zipper to jump.

"fuck it" he mumbles as he slides out of u leaving you feeling empty. he quickly licks of his fingers and grabs your hand pulling you out of your seat. he drags you past the doors of the show room passing making out couples on the way. he pushes the bathroom door open pulling you in your eyes suddenly assaulted by the florescent light making u squint. his lips attaching to the skin of your neck and chest before you adjust to the light. grabbing your hips pulling you towards the door of the stall. the door slams behind you, the cold of the door connecting with your back.

"I cant wait any longer baby, i- I cant, fuck I need you now" he says between his mouth tasting and biting at your sensitive skin, his hands push your bra and dress exposing your chest his lips exploring the hardening skin on your nipple. he grabs your hips to turn you around pulling your underwear down and off your legs. he stuffs the underwear into your mouth causing you to gag slightly. you let out some small whines muffled by the make shift gag as you feel his tip push into you. his hands reach round you roughly grabbing at your tits swirling his fingers around your nipples his hands grabbing so tight it almost hurts. "fuck princess you feel so good." he says as quietly as he can through grunts. one of his hand reaches down to play with your clit making your eyes roll back in pleasure still feeling his cock pounding in and out of you at a harsh pace. the hand once on ur tit moves to your hair tangling his fingers in it pulling your head back. "let me look at that pretty face of yours princess." you can feel him getting closer and closer to coming his hips slamming repetitivly against u. you feel weak from your own orgasm creeping up on you. "fuck!" he grunts releasing himself into you filling you up. while your own orgasm drags on longer than expected leaving u twitching. he slowly pulls out letting the cum spill out of you, being so gentle helping you clean yourself up.

"come on sweetheart let's go get you a drink"

the continueos thud of music and ramblings of chatter had drowned out most of the night. it had felt like the night was skipping through time trying to ignore the repetitive thud in your head between conversations with strangers, the feeling of aching caused by the alcohol in your body. you decide to trail outside to light a smoke, fumbling with your pack dropping it as it slides from your cold tingling fingers. you stand there for a moment feeling the nights wind brush against your cheek debating whether it's worth reaching for it in your semi-drunk state. your thought is interrupted by the sound of leather rubbing against itself and the body heat of someone knocking into u.

"Shit!... sorry lemme grab that for u." echos through your head as you watch a tall man bend down and grab the back from by your feet. you feel yourself snap out of the daze you had fallen into when a pair of dark eyes connect with your own. "you good?" he says brushing your hair from your face the warmth of his hands feeling nice against your frosted skin. you nod finally blinking back to reanimation "yeah... a bit drunk and cold." you say taking the pack from his hands. his eyes follow your hand as your fingers slide into the pack and bring the cigarette to your mouth. "you got a light?" you mumble patting your pockets trying to feel around for your own. "course princess" he says holding up his lighter to light your cigarette. you smile at him in thanks finally letting your eyes trail over the man infront of you. you recognize him it's eddie he was in a few of your classes last summer. you always thought he was cute but it never went further than passive conversation. he seemed a lot more confident after some drinks the conversation flows more naturally and less rushed. you talk back and forth a bit eventually leaning against the wall for stability chatting about the party ongoing just behind the wall. "steves house is a lot bigger than I imagined" you say with a laugh. "not big enough tho," eddie adds "almost every room ive walked into there's people fuckin or something." you both laugh and let the silence settle for a moment as smoke surrounds both of you.

"ive always thought u was cute" you blurt out swirling what's left of your drink refusing to look at him. "and I dont know if it's this beer or something but you look even better tonight. " you continue with a nervous laugh. your brain is trying to set off alarm bells that you just confessed to him but the warm swirl of alcohol surrounds your thoughts. he moves i front of you gently moving your chin towards him " oh yeah?" he asks the smell of alcohol and his cologne taking hold of your senses. you feel your heart pounding against your chest as you nod. he leans in closer to you leaning against the wall behind you only centimeters apart. "just kiss me " you whisper "you sure?" he asks dragging out each word. you wrap your arm around his neck pulling him into a kiss. his hands drop to your waist holding you close to the warmth of his chest. as you both fall deeper and deeper into the kiss the bottle from between your fingers slides and hits the floor causing a small spill that spreads into a puddle around Eddie's shoes but neither of you care. you pull away looking into his eyes "it's to open here"

you say as you grab his hand and pull him round the corner of a wall where it's darker and almost instantly your lips recollide as he pushes you against the wall his hands slide down to between your legs and up your dress gently feeling the wetness building against your underwear while your tongues fight against each other. he suddenly pulls away from you and orders you to turn around helping you by guiding your hips. he slides his hands down back between your legs pushing your underwear to the side and begins rubbing the tips of his fingers against your aching hole and down against your clit and back up again making you moan. you feel his hand move up to your mouth to cover it. his fingers abruptly slide in down to his rings that feel cold against your cunt. "fuck" you mumble from behind his hand as your feel him curling his fingers in and out of your pussy, making you moan each time he hits deep inside. your brain fogs with ideas of someone hearing or seeing you with the constant reminder of the wind against you bear ass and legs.

just as abruptly as he slid in he pulls them back out pushing his fingers into his mouth tasting the sweetness of your wetness. he reaches down and fumbled with his belt with a loud jingle. he presses the tip of his thick cock against your entrance rubbing it teasing you. "please Eddie hurry what if someone sees" you say leaning your hands against the wall. he moves his mouth against your neck leaving kisses "fuck princess I love it when you beg" he whines into your ear with a heavy desperate tone in his voice. "please Eddie please " you repeat pushing your warmth over the tip getting desperate. it slides in stretching you out, making you shudder with pressure. his groans fill the air as he starts moving in and out of you letting the wetness spill out of u leaving no space inside of you. his hand reaches round your neck choking u keeping you semi quiet while he grits his teeth trying to hold on his own grunts. clearly it's not quite enough as you hear footsteps shuffle by the back door.