Maybe - Eddie Munson
Summary: When the hot older man in the neighborhood becomes a regular at your coffee shop, you can't help but let your shameless flirting take over. And maybe, just maybe, the fantasies are reciprocated. CW: 12k words, 18+ !!! modern!Eddie, older!Eddie, d/s dynamics, daddy!kink, slight ddlg themes,soooo many fuckingpentanesI'm sorry, choking, slapping, oral (f receiving), sex, lots of flirting
AN : Wow , it's been so long since I have actually sat down and written a full fic and holy fuck did I miss it. I hope you guys enjoy my entirely self indulgent older Eddie fic. As always, I love you so so so much and if you enjoy it please share and leave feedback <3 - Vi
“There’s no way you’re old enough to know or like the Grateful Dead,” The deep voice shakes you from your scrolling.
To be fair, a customer hasn’t come in in almost 45 minutes, leaving you with no more counters to rescrub, and cups to restock. So, yes, you’ve been scrolling.
“I know you’re not about to quiz me,” you joke back to the man in front of you. He must be at least in his mid 30s, his long curly hair accompanied by tattoos all across his arms. You’ve never seen him in the small coffee shop before, which is weird considering you know just about everyone in this town, but you can already tell he’s a joker.
What you don’t expect is the way his smirk makes your cheeks get hot.
“Alright alright, no quizzes…today,” he smiles, glancing over the menu. You pretend to make yourself busy pulling a shot of espresso, trying not to look at the way he bites his lip while he’s focusing.
His eyes look up to meet yours, knowingly. “I’ll just have an iced Americano.”
You nod. “Small or large?”
“Large.”
You chuckle. “What?” He asks, a playful glint in his eyes. You try to bite your tongue, you really really do, you shouldn’t be flirting with this man.
But you’re a barista, and honestly, it’s part of the job. “Nothin,” you say, eyebrows raised as you pull up his total on the small screen in front of him.
He taps his card to the screen without even looking. His eye contact with you only falters as he scans over your body. “No no, let me in on the little joke,” he taunts.
You move over to the espresso machine, and there’s no way he’s not looking at your ass. You’re so lucky there’s no one else here.
