#i do love a man with heavy eyes and high cheekbones

[netherfeildren]

Notes On a Virtuous Affair

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude.

He was the experienced one, you the innocent. It should have been different. Maybe it should’ve felt different. And yet, there was something in him that made you feel very much the conquering one, you the baptizing one.

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Post outbreak; Jackson Joel Miller; Dom/sub undertones; Rough Sex; Impact Play; Face Slapping; Spanking; PIV sex; Ass Play; Oral Sex (m!receiving); Come Eating; Throat Fucking; Unprotected Sex; Potentially Toxic Dynamics? (haha?); Complicated Feelings; They Love Each Other in Their Own Weird Way, Ok?; Older Man/Younger Woman; Idk What This Is, I Don't Expect You to Either;

A/N: miss you guys, sorry for the disappearing act <3

Word Count: 3.1K

Read on AO3

Notes On a Virtuous Affair

Sunlight spills over everything, and the pastoral green leads you to him. 

One would think this road ends in something virtuous—a greenness so dazzling it hurt the eyes—and not the sort of man waiting in his far out removed solitude. 

But there’s an incongruity afoot here that only you appreciate.

The secret lies in that there’s a riddle woven through the three miles you pilgrim to see him weekly. The first, a boon, the green lush wasteland, if a thing that’s alive can be wasted. The second, an honesty, I’ll venture this distance for him. The third, a precursor, when your muscles start to tingle, your thighs, hot and itchy, nape, coated in a taste of salt. Your feet crunch along the gravel and dirt, protected by the soft leathered boots inherited from Lucy who’d died last Monday. A good start to the week, with new boots, and a thoughtful gift she’d left you, your friend, when your own shoes were so worn from all the walking you do for him. The end of the world changes death, finds good things within it. 

The sun warms the bridge of your nose, and you tip your face up to the too-bright light, trying your hardest to look straight at the intensity of it. He’s very much like this too. Why would you look directly at the sun if not for the hurting it brings? Your palms splayed forward at your sides, the breeze moving through your fingers, and the world is all around you alive in this apocalypse. 

Jackson is left further and further behind as you move towards him, and what no one understands, not even Joel Miller himself, is that there is something virtuous about this affair.

-

“I’m gonna fuck your mouth now,” he says down at you, bare as the day you were born and kneeling before his clothed and towering height. Nothing but the heavy hanging length of his cock is naked for you, the first you’d ever seen in your whole life. If he had his way, the only one you’d ever see for the rest of it. The wide head is slick and glossy, the way it bobs obscenely from his open jeans looking like the weight of it would hurt, the way it juts from the bed of hair at this groin like a threat to you. 

You know now, after all his focused training, that it only hurts him when you don’t tend to it as he needs, that it’s only a threat when you fail to do the same. He’s shown you the rules of hurting, in all these months you’ve come your three promised miles to him time after time. Shown you how it comes easy, that of hurting someone you love. A running in place sort of thing. You know all the steps that will come, the exact spot you’ll tread in. The way to propel yourself forward to finally leave that same place, avoid it, if you want. 

“Open wider. Won’t fit like that,” he clicks his tongue, voice a burr as he grips his throbbing flesh and with the other too big hand, also like a seeming threat, but not, he gives you a quick, softly stinging slap to the high of your cheekbone. The sound, fast and snapping like his disapproving tongue. You swallow a moan, looking up at him with that look in your eyes you know disturbs him, adoration, letting the hinges of your jaw go loose, saliva pooling beneath the cover of your tongue. “Don’t you want me?” He asks. 

And you blink once, moan crossing the bridge to a laugh if your mouth wasn’t stretched wide as it’ll go. He sees it though, skipping water in your eyes and gives that half smile, the mean one, the one that says he has all the answers in the world, knows all the things there are to know, that one you like best. Good girl, and his voice makes no sound, only the shape of the words on his mouth. You haven’t been good enough yet to hear the real thing of them out loud. This tells you that you must apply yourself to the task at hand, making him come. 

One heavy tap to the flat of your tongue sticking out for him first, and then he’s slicking that fat head against the surface, giving you the first real taste, salt and musk trickle down the back of your throat and you moan again, eyes screwing shut tight, cunt aching something fierce. Leaking just like the tip of his cock leaks too. 

That’s the thing about this thing, the one you see very well and Joel still fails to. The two of you, as disparate as you might seem, are the same in all the basic but most important ways. Too much in common for him to look at in the eye comfortably and still do the things you do. 

“Open your throat. Get me hard.” In your head, he calls you baby. In reality, only sometimes, when you’re extra good, does that happen. But in your imagination, where it matters more, he doesn't ask nice, but you are his baby. 

He slides back, back, hits the end of your throat, pulls out against the wet heat of your tongue. You keep your jaw wide until you feel him harden entirely, until he stretches his neck back, tendons jumping stark, clench of his jaw fluttering with a choked groan. “Suck me,” your permission to savor him like you need to. 

Hands pressed firmly to your bare knees, not digging at your soft wet like you’d like, or pawing at him as you’d like even more, you close your lips around him, cheeks hollowed and suck hard, tonguing at his slit on the pull back so that he’s bearing his teeth at you in a growl and shoving forward again hard, a snarl as the cinch of your tight throat strangles the head of his cock on every one of your swallows. Your eyes water, but he pets softly at the same spot he’d stung earlier with his slap. 

A game you used to play with your siblings, who could slap one another harder until the other gave out. It’d taken a while for you to come to the realization, but eventually, you’d realized the memory of it in your mind as it exists now wasn’t innocent the way it should’ve been. That there had been something you’d liked about it in a strange way—that hurting. That the first time you’d asked Joel to play the same game with you, you’d wanted him to slap you other places just as hard until you gave out also. 

The games were part of the thing. His own strange rules, like the way you couldn’t touch him sometimes—you dig your bitten down nails into the soft skin of your inner thighs—only when he said it was okay was it allowed. The way you were never allowed to touch your cunt unless he said so also. He had weird things about him, turned strange by the dangerous ways of life. Like the solitude, the house out and away, the begging you had to do for him to have you. 

Sameness. 

He wraps his fist in your hair, more sting, “Gonna fill your belly with my come, yeah?” His thrusts pick up pace, pulling your head back as far as your neck allows so that he can fuck your throat in full, jaw hanging wide, and you’re just the wet and willing hole you know he sometimes wishes you could always stay as. 

The thick cock against your tongue throbs once, twice and then he’s spilling hot and heavy down your open throat, sweet salt against the back of your tongue while you try and breathe through his strangling, tears spilling.

When he pulls back, slipping wet and heavy from your mouth you fall forward onto your palms, breathing fast, almost hyperventilating, stinging with the forced will to remain obedient. Your spine burns beneath your skin and your sore jaw hangs unwillingly open, sloppy mouth dripping a string of semen between your splayed palms. 

He crouches before you, dripping cock like your mouth, milked to heavy softness hangs long and sated between his thighs. And he pets your crown, the vulnerable shell of your ear, whole body on fire so that every inch of skin hurts without his touch, hurts worse with it. 

“Good girl,” he says now with voice. 

-

The walk seems longer some days. A thousand miles plus an eon instead of merely three. Especially on the days you’re more desperate than usual. The ones when your stomach feels full of sugar for him and the memory taste of his cock is already aching in your molars. Those days your steps are hurried, look in your eyes frenzied to get to him, to escape the things you leave behind. A too full house, your sister’s squalling, teething baby, your little brothers, and too many mouths to feed and not attention to be had, not enough mother for everyone to get loved. 

There’s reasons for this game between the two of you, you’d had to come out and find your attention somewhere else. 

Your love too. 

And if it comes with a sting sometimes, well, so had your mother’s. You like it like this now. 

The first time he’d touched your cunt: show me that pretty pussy, baby, and he’d had you from that very first sweet word, you gonna let me finger it? You’d spread wide, leaked into the cup of his palm like a whore, you’d needed to make sure he was for keeping from the first try, you see. So you’d done all he’d said, taken four fingers and only cried a little bit but whined a lot. Been all, hurts, Joel, high pitched and dragging his name out on a puppy whimper. 

He’d given you that first lesson in hurt the very first time: Yeah? Supposed to. A real mean man. And then made you gush into that very cupped palm so that he could drink of your sweetness. 

He was the experienced one, you the innocent. It should have been different. Maybe it should’ve felt different. And yet, there was something in him that made you feel very much the conquering one, you the baptizing one. 

The third mile comes to an end, the precursor, over, his house in view. It’s all quiet and slumbering and the long grass pulls you forward with its wind blown sway. The wide door to his shed is propped open, half finished rocking chair up on the workbench that sways with the intruding gust. The grass whispers behind you, the dark woods across the field moan, and he’s nowhere while the Tetons loom in the distance. 

You drag your fingers along the slats of his house as you pass, everything is so quiet, like he’d never been here. Like he’d gone and left you the way he’s promised he’d never do. Your belly feels bloated with heat, heart turned into four incongruous chambers that no longer beat in tune, memories of him rioting between each thump. Your cunt goes soft and drooling in your panties as your fear beats higher and higher, and you come to the mouth of the shed, peering into the cool darkness of this little place where he makes his beautiful things. The things that go into people’s homes to be used by people’s families to be stored in people’s memories.

The gleam of the sun does not cross the threshold, and you brace your palms on either side of the wide door, the air thrums and he’s not here—yet—you slide the toe of Lucy’s old boot across the border of sunlight into sanctuary and peek your closed-eyed face into the shade right before you’re taken bodily to the ground by his heavy weight. Palms catching splinters, his strong chest heaves into the line of your spine, strong arm at your waist to pull your breath from your lungs and your legs from under you. 

He forces you belly first to the ground, other hand circling your throat in the imitation of a strangle lest you lose yourself and decide to struggle for the first time ever. But you dig your fingernails into the dirt, scratching for purchase in preparation of what’s about to come, all the fight going out of you; body, half in shadow, half in sunlight. Your bones feel salt bleached. An over abundance of sodium in the blood that renders you catatonic for him.

He nuzzles soft at your nape while his hand shoves under your dress, ripping your underwear down your legs so that the elastic cuts into your tender skin to hurt. All incongruous movement, this man is. 

“Didn’t your daddy ever tell you not to go creepin’ ‘round strange men’s homes?” His voice is so deep, drawled, broken up into different notes of lust and anger and temerity. All the strange things that make Joel Miller up. 

Yeah, you sigh into the dirt. “Told me exactly how it’d go for me if I did.”

You hitch your rump up then, presenting your cunt for fucking. The breeze doesn’t do half to soothe the throbbing wet. The sort of ache that’ll only be fixed by something heavy inside the hurting place. The sound of his belt quiets the disparate chambers, the beat in your ears of rushing blood is uniform now, there’ll be a wet spot in the shape of you in the dirt when he’s through. You lift your hips higher, knees scraped rough as you spread wider, face pressed to the ground and your fingers are well and burrowed in their little gouges now. 

He smacks the heft of it against you asshole, spits and presses a little. He likes to scare you sometimes. Nooo, Joel, all whining stutter, but with your back arching deeper like a little babied liar; you don’t mind where he puts it, only that he puts it somewhere.

“Hush,” he soothes all nice, spanks your ass once all not— “Gonna teach you a lesson.” And shoves inside, bumping against your womb on the first try, stretching your hole too wide, too quick. And there’s no prep, no qualm. No need to hesitate when you own a thing. You swallow your animal cry, ah ah ah, you want to hear how good you’ve been out loud. He grips your hips tight enough to bruise which is what you know he wants and fucks hard and fast, each swing whistles with ownership. 

He fucks you in the dirt like an animal, and this affair is virtuous. 

He teaches you the truth about hurting, about ownership, about so many things that only a man like Joel Miller could teach a girl like you. And all the while he tells you that you’re too pretty to take such an ugly fucking. 

The way he works your cunt, hungry, balls swinging wet so that they sting like his slaps, tip battering hard so that it aches like gratitude. 

These are the things three miles give you. A whole man to teach you about the whole world. 

The slick squelch of your overwhelmed cunt sounds loud, no more disparate heartbeat, no more green grassed whispers. Only the sound of his grunting above you like an animal remains. “You’re the perfect little cunt. You know that, baby?” There it is, you sigh. Start to tremble around him like that, like his good baby that you are, desperate flutters, little gash being fucked into obedience like you need. Your overwhelmed pants make little dirt dream clouds before your eyes as you start to come for him, crying his name, crying your love, crying that you’re so, so thankful. 

“Don’t stop, Joel. Not yet.” And he loves it when you beg, loves it when your cunt pulls tight like a knot.  

“Not yet,” he promises because he might be a real mean man, but he loves you like separating salt from blood.

Complicated and precise. 

When he’s through with you, there’s sunlight spilling over everything again. It’s journey goes on and on, and his semen drips from your cunt now. He turns gentle, thrusting still, making sure it’s fucked deep, pulsing in time with your own throb. Rhythms merge between the two of you. 

His rules are strange, his claims over you equally mysterious. He won’t say things out loud, won’t let you touch any real part of him, but his strange truths ring loud anyways, and when your heart isn’t disjointed, you hear him perfectly well. 

When he lays you out bare and trembling across his messy bed, the groaned pains of his age and rutting in the dirt like an animal sound from him as he drapes himself alongside you. Large and hairy, feet hanging off the end of the bed, entirely real with one knee propped up so that his thick cock lays heavy and soft over the swell of his belly. Your heart beats soft and overfull now. 

You watch the sun set across the planes of his chest and bask in the blue dark as the night draws breath around you. The work of meting out obedience to little girls who come searching for it is toiling, and you watch him melt into sleep, but right before he’s just gone away from you, with a single finger petting at the jut of the old broken bone in his shoulder, your whispered plea: Will you give me a falseness? You don’t call it a lie. This is a virtuous thing, after all.

Lies aren’t allowed in this house. 

He breathes a deep sigh, and you watch the fan of his long lashes sweep open, staring up at the shadowed rafters of his home. You swear you can see each and every individual whisker in his thick beard, dark and gray dispersed throughout. You see every single detail. 

He’d told you once there were ghosts here, in this house, and you’d learned later it wasn’t a lie. This became more and more obvious the more you got to know him. 

He stares up at them now. 

When he’d taken your virginity, when it’d left you the way you’d always imagined it would, covered in tears and blood and semen, you’d made that promise to each other. That you wouldn't lie, that he’d have all of you, that you’d not touch all of him. The ghost lay beside you in the damp bed of your lost innocence that day. It’d been just so ever since and over many miles of three you’d come to appreciate the realities of it. Who could be more connected than two people who always tell each other their truths exactly as they are?

“Give me a falseness,” you say again, not a lie. 

“A good kind of a bad kind?”

You flip a mind’s coin, wish you could see the exact ghosts he sees— “Bad.”

He turns to look at you, this half smile he wears is your second favorite one now, the honest one, and it’s all there for you to see. All the disparate chambers of Joel, just like your heart beating in your ears. You suppose the ghosts don’t matter then. 

“I don’t love you.”

And you nod solemn. Bad, like a whisper, like your game. 

You smile back, the one you know he likes best, the one that looks like his.

Netherfeildren’s Masterlist

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#vic fic #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #Joel Miller smut #joel miller #the last of us AU

[disdaidal]

Eamon Farren as Richard Horne | 1/∞ TWIN PEAKS: THE RETURN (2017) 1.05 Case Files

#twin peaks #richard horne #eamon farren #twinpeaksedit #twinpeaksdaily #twin peaks the return #richardhorneedit #userscuddish #eamonfarrenedit #dailyflicks #purpleedit #filmtvdaily #tvcentric #smoking #gifs by disdaidal #so i tried to watch this show back when it came out but i couldn't because... well #but eamon is there and he looks gorgeous sooo~ couldn't resist anymore #i do love a man with heavy eyes and high cheekbones

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — RYOMEN SUKUNA. a better man.

about. you’re a girl that’s way out of his league and he’s the bad boy you couldn’t help but fall for. what happens when ryomen sukuna fails to meet you in the middle?

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, suggestive towards the end, no curses!au, modern!au, it’s implied that sukuna is in a gang, mentions of fights, reader is a rich girl, they’re kinda in love :( bad boy!sukuna, fem!reader.

“you’re mad at me. aren’cha?”

sukuna mutters with an air of faux nonchalance as he lazily jogs up the final marble steps that lead up to the restaurant he was supposed to meet you at nearly two hours ago. the evening traffic zips by, red and white headlights parting through the rain to illuminate your boyfriend’s features. heavy water droplets take residence on the slope of his nose and Cupid’s bow, some even daring to cling on to the tips of dusty rose-coloured hair.

if you weren’t so angry right now, you might take a moment to appreciate how good sukuna looks in the moment — especially with the way the rain makes the designer tux you’d gotten for him cling to his skin. exposing every ridge and dip and curve in his muscle while his inky black tattoos become all the more visible.

“of course i’m mad.” you step aside to let sukuna under the shelter of the entrance, avoiding him as he swoops down for his usual hug and kiss. “tonight is important. it was important.”

“babe c’mon on, i was—“

“you were late. they’re serving dessert in there, ryomen.” your tone is coloured with shades of annoyance and a hint of warning. like a mother about to lecture her child. you’re pissed. it’s written all over your face too — in the way that your brows crease and you pout so adorably. he’ll try to play it off, like he doesn’t care, but it almost makes sukuna sick to his stomach to know that you’re angry with him.

the rain picks up outside of the restaurant and you continue. “all you had to do was show up on time. come to this stupid fancy restaurant and be there to meet my parents. but of course, you got yourself caught up in—“ you grab his dress shirt in frustration, noticing the blood on the collar that doesn’t belong to him. his split knuckles and the bruise on his lips. “— in whatever this is.” you roll your eyes, blood boiling.

“it’s nothin’ for you to worry your pretty little head about,” sukuna scoffs, lips spreading wide in his signature smirk. the excuse is lame, but he doesn’t want you to worry for him any longer. “since when did you care about what your parents think, anyways?” but you see it in his eyes, that same old worry. that he’s not good enough for you, that a scumbag like him doesn’t deserve a pretty girl like you. he’s always told you to find someone better, someone able to feed into the glitz and glamour that you were brought up in.

but you’ve always told ryomen sukuna that you have everything you need right there with him.

cupping his face, the heat of anger dispels from your body and you exhale deeply though your nose. “i don’t care about what my parents think. if i did, i wouldn’t be dating you.” you cast a thumb over the thick lines of ink decorating his face, accenting sukuna’s high cheekbones and chiselled features while the rest of your fingers sink into his smooth, dark undercut. “but that doesn’t mean i don’t want you to meet them. they’re just as special to me as you are. i want the most important people in my life to know each other.”

your boyfriend’s hands settle on your wrists as he grunts noncommittally, indicating that he’s aware of his wrong doings. if there’s one thing that sukuna hates, it’s upsetting you. he doesn’t care what the world thinks of him, it’s never mattered before. yet, even the slightest look of disappointment from you has the man in shambles. “‘m sorry,” he drawls, his grip on you shifting down to cup your waist — pulling you flush against him. “what can a guy like me do to make it up to you?”

“you can go on in there and charm the hell out of my rich, uptight parents so that we can hurry up and go home,” your voice lowers an octave as you stand on your tip toes for the extra height so that you can nip at the shell of sukuna’s ear. “where you can rip this dress off’a me.”

“such a dirty mouth for such’a prim ‘n proper girl, hm? i should wash it out with soap.” he purrs right back, leaning down to kiss at your neck until you’ve had enough of his frayed pink hair tickling your skin. he damn near melts when your fingers inch up to tug at his roots — earning a deep and thrilling growl from the man. “that was a dirty move. who taught you that?”

“my good for nothing boyfriend, he’s kind of a bad influence.” you tease back, despite having to physically push sukuna away in order to avoid setting off his inner beast before dinner with your parents is done — and instead, take to grabbing his larger hand in yours so you can lead him from the front of house to your family’s reserved table.

and like always, sukuna trails after you like a lost puppy enamoured with the person that found them, have them love and warmth. because, while you didn’t change him, you made him want to be better — to give up the knives in his back and the bullets looking over his head for something better. something softer.

something like you.

ryomen sukuna wanted to become the someone he thought you deserved.

that’s why he put on this stupid suit and tie, why he let you take his hand, why he follows you to the the table that’s sure to seal his fate with you.

behind all that rough exterior, is a man who loves you.

and in front of sukuna, is a girl who loves him and all of his flaws right back.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #don’t look at me lawl #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #angelshubnetwork

[pinkmirth]

i need more cowboi reiner tryna knock u up pls 🥺 👉 👈

⸻ STUFFED!

SYNOPSIS ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ reiner just can’t seem to control how hungry he is for you. what better way to make you his than by stuffing you full of him?

CONTAINS ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ ( 2.5k+ words of . . . ) cowboy!reiner x fem!reader (black coded), nsfw/smut, modern au, countryside setting, established relationship, reiner has a big fat breeding kink, sex flashbacks, doggie style, standing sex, creampie, use of pet names (ex. mama, sugar, honey), reader calls reiner ‘papa’, mentions of pregnancy, lowercase intended, explicit language, minors shoo!

MY LOVE NOTE! ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ it’s undeniable that cowboy reiner’s got a raging breeding kink. thanks so much for sending in your thoughts, my love! now here’s rei-rei bein’ a shameless feen for his pretty girl! 🎀

reiner’s terribly distracted.

the last thing he wants to do is lay blame, but in a way, you’re the reason why. the mere thought of you is enough to make this cowboy go buckwild. rei-rei swears he usually has more self control, it’s just that you strip him of all common sense.

you, pretty little you, make him all scatterbrained. his head’s been filled with nothing but romantics and vulgarities ever since he took you on a date seven months ago. you’ve turned him into some fool in love, for goodness’ sake.

memories of last night’s escapades come to mind. his mouth practically waters when remembering your plush ass; how you tossed it onto his pelvis with an arching back and swaying tits, peering at him with the sultriest smile, not to mention those glimmering bedroom eyes of yours. he recalls having to hold you still, so you wouldn’t be able to squirm away if his pounding were to become too much. you were soft, he remembers, so soft. the flesh of your hips would squish beneath the imposing pressure of his callous fingers, digging tighter into your sides whenever you’d flutter around the girth of him. he remembers the way he came inside with a rumbly moan, leaving your pussy full and the sheets wet . . . he wants to do it all over again.

with all that’s going on in that perverse little mind of his, he can hardly bring himself to focus on feeding the cattle. the only thing that can solve his problem is its source; you. and just like that, reiner’s dropping whatever he’d been doing before. his chores can surely wait, but this surge of desire can’t be overlooked. not a thing matters as much as finding you, fucking you, filling you.

he rounds the barn, passes by the apple trees and the horse stables in search of you. his cock pulses with every step, prodding stubbornly against the soft cotton of his boxers, now smeared with sticky precum. reiner brings a hand down to provide himself some relief, palming his boner with a low grunt. he’s so fucking hard that it almost hurts. that’s what he gets for fantasizing about you for the past thirty minutes and doing nothing about it until now.

with heavy steps, reiner makes his entrance into the farmhouse and is met by the sight of you lounging in the living room. you’re seated on the floral-print recliner with your pedicured toes propped up, all nice and comfortable. you’re wearing the dainty string of pearls he bought you for your birthday earlier in the year. pride flushes throughout his chest when seeing how prettily it rests on your collarbone.

you greet your man with a glossy smile, one that makes his dick throb beneath his hay-specked coveralls. reiner wonders if you’ve taken note of just how red he looks, rosy heat scattered across his face, from the highs of his cheekbones to the tips of his ears. he can feel his skin blazing with complete and total need.

reiner elicits a weak mumble of ‘hey, sugar. . .’, a stark contrast to your tone being all light and cheery as you ramble on about the cute little mini-skirt you’re crocheting for yourself. ‘since the weather’s getting warmer,’ you chime.

reiner loves you. he really, truly does, but he simply isn’t in the headspace to pay mind to the mundane task you’re occupied with at the moment— not when he’s this close to tearing off your summer dress, bending you over, peeling himself out of his spurred boots and pumping you full of every drop of cum he has to offer. fuck, he’s breathing harder now. gradually, he feels his resolve slip.

“you alright, honey?” you set down your crocheting hook, staring up at him with big, curious eyes. your voice, soft and consoling, grounds him just a little. reiner pulls off his signature cowboy hat, sets it on the nearby coffee table, and ruffles his hair so it falls into place. “yeah, i’m just—“ a pause amidst his sigh. truthfully, he’s here because he wants to fuck you pregnant. “i wanted t’see you, is all.” he settles on saying that instead. it’s much sweeter, all the more more romantic. less fetish-y. you probably would’ve looked at him funny if he admitted to crossing the entire farm by foot just so he could fill you up.

“aw, rei! you were missin’ me?” you laugh out of flattery. oh, your reiner. he’s so sweet in his own right. your boyfriend wants to ‘see you’, as he claims, like he hadn’t woken you up with nibbles to your neck, taken a (somewhat long, fairly busy) shower with you this morning, and ate breakfast alongside you before heading off to tend to the farm. you assume he can’t help but cling to you and want more.

it’s sudden, but welcomed, how reiner closes in on you. he draws near like a magnet, until the space between you no longer exists. he’s crouching down to the level of the chair, hovering over you to press a kiss on your lips. “mhm. missed you so bad, mama,” he mumbles against your mouth. in reply, you whisper onto his lips, something about how he’s always ‘so eager.’ he leans into you, desperate for more, and the chair creaks underneath the addition of his weight. he’s a large man, anyone can tell. his brawny build and imposing height never fail to make you feel safe underneath him. 

reiner dips his head low and plants one, two, three sloppy kisses along your warm neck, and it gets you hotter than the southern heat. he leaves saliva in his wake, trailed by the lightest of bruises from his suctioning lips. he tries to undo your clothes and his, but the small space that this decade-old chair provides won’t allow for it. besides, it wouldn’t be wise of him to make you squirt on a family heirloom. “this won’t do,” he clicks his teeth, decidingly picking you up. your legs wrap around his torso like second nature, arms circled around the back of his muscular neck.

“reiii, baby wait!” you draw out the call of his name, but all it does is coax him further. can’t you tell that your voice is only making him harder? that your whines urge him to fuck you silly? 

“wait?” he reiterates, grinding up into your clothed core. you shudder upon contact. “what for?” from beneath the denim he wears, you can feel his stiffness poke against your flimsy panties. “don’t you wanna head to bed first, honey? hm?” you whine into his neck. it takes a good eight seconds for him to respond.

“uh-uh,” reiner gives you a half-hearted grunt, with his gaze fixed on your cleavage that the low neckline of your dress presents to him. obviously, he’s interested in other things. “here’s just fine, sugar.” he’s strong enough to fuck you standing up with nothing else supporting him, and you know that. he doesn’t need a goddamn mattress.

reiner’s large hands grab at your underside, using your ass as the perfect leverage to press you close to him. this is your third time fucking the week, and it’s only tuesday. you’d mention it, but he’s too busy kissing down the valley of your breasts. impatience seeps through his every movement, from how he grasps at your thighs to keep you upright, to eagerly feeling along your lower half like it’s his first time touching your body.

“slow down, rei.” begrudgingly, reiner removes his lips from your chest. he finally calms for just a moment, so that he can meet your beautiful eyes. your face has been overtaken by a subtle pout. “m’sorry, honey,” he murmurs between a deep kiss, all wet and tongue-filled. you assume that’s supposed to be his form of an apology. his toned arm re-fastens itself around your body, holding you tight, while the other bunches up your dress and pushes down his bottoms, “but i need you. so fuckin’ bad.” you could never deny him and that sweet southern drawl. he knows that his smooth mouth works magic on you— he always gets what he wants from his pretty girl. 

now freed of any confines, reiner lowers his hand to stroke at the base of his dick, tugging himself with a low hiss. involuntarily, his hips buck. “you can finish up that skirt later, hm?” he releases himself and appoints his attention to you, the pads of his fingers circling your clit in just the way you like. your head falls forward onto his broad shoulder. “hell, i’ll even buy you some o’those frilly ones at that fancy mall you like goin’ to . . .” he utters partially to you and a little to himself, still occupied with keeping pressure on your bud. by now, with your head thrown back, you’ve already forgotten what you were working on in the first place.

having done this countless times before, reiner’s quickly able to find your dripping entrance. the drag of his tip through your puffy folds causes a ‘shlck’ sound to elicit. reiner smiles to himself; you’re embarrassingly wet. your hips begin to swivel and writhe, that’s how he knows you’re getting as needy as he. choosing not to waste any more time, he pushes himself inside with one swift motion. you cry out from the stretch, already fluttering around the first few inches he gives you. so far, it's just the tip and some, but he's so wide.

“goddamnit, baby . . . i fuckin’ love this pussy,” reiner grunts through clenched teeth. he’d usually start off with a shallow thrust and ease you into it, but he isn’t feeling as patient. every thrust is fast-paced, almost rushed. the impact has you bouncing in his arms, all as he continues his unrelenting efforts.

“s’good, rei— so good,” wavering moans spill past your lips. he hisses when your manicured nails dig into the hot flesh of his firm, round biceps. you squeeze around him until his eyes go rolling back. “i know, mama. i know,” reiner whines and groans, because it’s all he can manage to do. if he was air-headed about you earlier, surely he’s braindead now. he pumps into you rapidly, restlessly, but he still finds a way to make it feel so thorough. that’s probably because he’s fucking huge; incredibly endowed, like every other big and buff part of him. with a cock this thick, how could he not strike every nerve and hit every spot? 

he rolls his hips up into you with breathtaking fervor, fucks into you until he’s balls deep within your pulsating cunt. sweat dripping down his furrowed brow, he rasps out, “can’t wait to fill you up,” sloppy kisses follow, and his tongue slides across yours as he mumbles on about cumming inside, stuffing you full, making you his. you finally know what he’s doing, you should’ve known all along— he’s going to pump his cum into you as deep as he can get it to go. thrust his seed into your pliant womb until he’s fucked a baby into you. 

the mere thought of makin’ you a mama has his head spinning. reiner’s breath catches in his throat, and your sounds heighten in pitch— the pair of you can tell that you’re bound to reach ecstasy. he squats a bit lower, goes a little faster, attempting to propel you both into your orgasms. it’s coming on like an impending wave; your belly tightens, toes curling from where your heels dig into reiner’s strong back.

he knows you’ve come undone once your smooth, ridge-like walls begin to spasm around him, to the point where he can hardly pull back or push in further. he likes to think that it’s your pretty pussy’s way of begging for his cum. still, he doesn’t let up, not until you’re thoroughly impregnated. “jus’ a lil more. hold on ‘fa me, honey, m’kay?” he pleads through throaty whimpers. weakly, you nod. the overstim makes you pant and mewl, biting onto the damp skin of his exposed jugular to try and quiet yourself.

reiner slams you down onto him, the veins in his forearms bulging as he desperately grasps onto the globes of your ass. the resounding slap of skin rings around his tingling ears, lewd sounds floating throughout the otherwise quiet farmhouse.

“g’na let papa fill you up? yeah?” you cry out a weak ‘mhm!’ along with other pleas of how much you want it; want him. his balls twitch and his abdomen goes tense. “m'close,” he gruffly whispers. you decide to spur him on: “g-gimme your babies, papa, i need it!” that’s all he needs to topple over the edge. “oh fuck, mama— m’gonnacum,” reiner’s words jumble together when he comes, coating your insides with warm globs of white. though his thighs never cease their trembling, he still maintains a steady hold on you, keeping your limp frame upright. 

reiner stays inside as a means of keeping all his seed plugged into you, just for good measure. he doubts that he’s got enough energy remaining to round up the cattle after this. his chest heaves slowly, and his hair’s a mess from all that pulling you were doing, but he’s more than satisfied. he's even got this dumb, blissed-out smile on his face to show his content. you're sure he's knocked you up thoroughly by now.

he’ll make sure to buy you a pregnancy test by next morning. 

#𝓂𝓎 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓈.ᐟ #reiner smut #reiner braun smut #reiner x black reader #reiner x black reader smut #reiner braun x black reader #reiner braun x black reader smut #x reader #aot smut #reiner x reader smut #reiner braun #cowboy reiner #cowboy reiner smut #— harmoni answers #— (.reiner) #— (drabbles!) #— (reiner drabbles!) #smut #x black reader #x black reader smut #aot x black reader #aot x black reader smut #reiner braun x reader smut #reiner braun x reader #reiner braun x you #thanks so much for dropping by! mwuah 💕 #— harmoni writes #୨୧ — isla writes #୨୧ — mira writes! #౨ৎ — 𝓂𝓎 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓈𝓉ℴ𝓇𝒾ℯ𝓈!

[steddiehyperfixation]

don't you forget about me (part five)

(part one)(part two)(part three)(part four)

No nightmares make their way into Eddie’s mind that night, no bad memories stir in his subconscious. That night, instead, he dreams of Steve:

Steve sat in the back of Eddie’s van, lounging against the wall with his legs stretched out in front of him, perpendicular to Eddie who sat against the back of the seats, legs also kicked out and propped up on top of Steve’s as they passed a joint back and forth, talking and laughing about everything and nothing. The windows and doors were closed to keep the night’s cool summer breeze out and the smoke in, the air in the van pleasantly warm and thick and hazy; their minds so too. 

Steve took a hit of the joint and attempted to blow smoke rings when he exhaled, making funny shapes with his lips and failing so spectacularly it made Eddie burst into a fit of raucous laughter. He threw his head back with it, hysterical and giggly in his high. Steve shoved at Eddie’s legs in mock offense at being laughed at, but it lacked heat, and he’d already caught the giggles from him too. 

“You’re really beautiful, you know,” Steve said, dopey smile on his face as he watched Eddie laugh. 

Eddie snorted. “And you’re really high.” He plucked the joint out of Steve’s hands, not giving the compliment much weight at all. People just say things sometimes when they’re too high, and he knew Steve’s tolerance for any sort of substance had gone way down since he’d gotten caught in that mall fire a couple weeks ago. Something to do with trauma or whatever. 

“Yeah, I’m gone,” Steve agreed, blowing a raspberry at him. “But I meant it, though,” he said. His dazed eyes drifted lazily over Eddie’s face. “I think it all the time sober too, every time you laugh or smile or the light hits you just right. You have pretty lips and pretty eyes and pretty hair.” 

“Yeah, it’s the long hair, man.” Eddie laughed, genuine but dismissive, taking a hit of the joint and saying on the exhale, “Got the wires all crossed in that lovely little head of yours. Your high brain’s just got me confused for a girl or something.” 

“No.” Steve frowned at him, bottom lip jutted out in a pretty pout as he shook his head. “I’m not confused. I don’t think you’re a girl. I think you’re a gorgeous, gorgeous boy.” 

“Hm.” Eddie took another hit, felt the weed float through his veins, cloud his mind even further. “In that case…” The smoke escaped past lips stretched into an unsuppressable grin. “You wanna know a secret?”

Steve angled his body towards him and leaned forward in interest. “Uh huh.” 

Eddie snuffed out the joint, pushed away from the back of the seats, and pulled his legs off of Steve, sitting back on his heels instead as he shifted to face Steve better and move closer. Inches apart now, Eddie brought a hand up to Steve’s cheek and said in a conspiratorial whisper, “I think you’re a gorgeous, gorgeous boy too.”

Steve giggled, smile wide and cheeks pink. He hooked an arm around Eddie’s waist and swept him onto his lap, making Eddie giggle too as he was pulled in close. Their foreheads rested against each other. Steve’s heavy-lidded eyes settled on Eddie’s lips, and Eddie thought he got the hint. He leaned in, and for a second Steve leaned in too, only for him to duck away at the very last second, the would-be kiss amounting only to the barest brush of their lips. A small whine, confused and wanting, escaped involuntarily from the back of Eddie’s throat. 

“Waitwaitwait-” Steve said, one hand pressed lightly against Eddie’s chest to hold him back. “We should be sober first.” 

Eddie huffed, but agreed, “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.” His hand still cupped Steve’s face though, thumb running over his cheekbone as he asked, “Will you even still want to kiss me when you’re not high?” 

“Of course I will.” Steve leaned into his touch. “Will you?” 

“Of course I will. Have you seen you?” Eddie said with a light laugh. “How could I not?” 

Steve grinned, bumped his forehead against Eddie’s again. “I’m gonna kiss you breathless when we’re sober, I promise.” 

“You better.” Eddie pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek instead, for now. “I’m holding you to that, pretty boy.” 

He was rewarded with another giggle and both of Steve’s arms wrapping around him now to pull him closer to his chest. Eddie slipped an arm around Steve’s waist too and settled against him, curled up so that he could rest his head on Steve’s shoulder. His other hand dropped from Steve’s face and drifted instead to land on the bicep of the strong arms that cradled him. 

The giggly elation of their high was beginning to give way to a stoned sleepiness, the weed-soaked air draped around them like a blanket. They probably could’ve fallen asleep like that - it wouldn’t have been the first time they’d passed out back there after a smoke sesh - but the air would soon grow stale, not to mention every breath inside the hotboxed van only maintained their intoxication and Eddie kind of really wanted to be sober as soon as possible. 

“It’s getting late,” he mumbled, reluctantly pushing himself away from Steve. “We should head inside.”

“Yeah, alright.” Steve, equally reluctantly, let go of Eddie and let him leave his lap. 

They separated to climb out of the van and make their way to the trailer and back to Eddie’s room to get ready for bed, but they gravitated towards each other again, drawn together like magnets once they laid side by side under Eddie’s sheets. It was almost unconscious, really, the way they both reached out and pulled each other close. 

By the time morning came, they were completely intertwined: both of them had both arms wrapped tight around the other, their legs entangled, Steve’s head tucked beneath Eddie’s chin and face buried in his chest. Eddie idly ran his fingers through Steve’s hair; Steve stirred at the touch and muttered a muffled, “‘Morning,” which Eddie softly echoed. 

Steve pulled his head back from Eddie’s chest then and shifted himself up so that they were face to face - or, more accurately, nose to nose. “Oh.” He smiled a little. “Hi.” And Eddie echoed that too, with a matching small smile. 

“About last-” Steve started to say, at the same time Eddie began to ask, “Did you-?” They both broke off into a light chuckle. Steve shook his head and said, “Sorry, you go.” 

“Did you mean what you said last night?” Eddie asked, voice quiet and careful and hopeful. 

“Every word,” Steve replied, his gaze soft as his eyes met Eddie’s. “Did you?” 

“Every word,” Eddie confirmed. A slow grin spread across his face, and he slid his hand from Steve’s hair to trace his fingers along Steve’s jaw. “You have a promise to keep now, big boy.” 

“That I do,” Steve agreed with a smirk of his own, pulling Eddie closer.

Their lips met, properly this time. Steve kissed him gentle and sweet and slow, and Eddie all but melted into it, a syrupy warmth flooding his veins. He kissed back, matched the pace. Steve flipped them over, pressing Eddie’s back into the mattress as he deepened the kiss and settled his weight on top of him with a languid, full body roll. Eddie moaned softly beneath him, his lips parting to accept the caress of Steve’s tongue which licked into his mouth in easy, tender strokes. His hands curled in Steve’s hair again and in the fabric of his shirt, back arched in an attempt to press himself even closer as Steve continued to kiss him like he was drinking Eddie in, like Eddie was something precious and Steve was determined to savor every taste. It was dizzying, hypnotizing, thoroughly fucking intoxicating. 

When Steve finally pulled away, Eddie was pretty sure he’d forgotten how to breathe, how to speak. He stared up at him, dazed, eyes wide and mouth still open soundlessly. 

“Told you,” Steve said, a smugness in his smile, “breathless.” 

“Man of your word.” Eddie found his voice again, remembered how to pull air back into his lungs. “An attractive quality,” he murmured before tugging Steve down into another kiss. 

This one got a little more heated. It was Eddie who took control this time, and he kissed Steve with fervor. He switched their positions, rolling over so that Steve was the one lying beneath him now, Eddie’s body grinding down as he landed on top of Steve. It was not soft and neither was the sound Steve let out in response: a guttural groan that rumbled against Eddie’s lips. Eddie swallowed that sound, bit down on it, devoured it; craved more of it. He left Steve’s mouth to kiss down his neck, scraping his teeth against those stupidly biteable moles and sucking a bruise onto the skin. Steve’s breath stuttered; as Eddie paired the lovebite with another harsh grind, Steve’s hips bucked up to meet him, pulling another deep groan from them both. 

“Eddie,” Steve gasped out then. “Eddie, we should slow down.” 

Eddie immediately clambered off of him. “Right, yeah. Too much. Sorry.” He put some distance between them, sitting more towards the edge of the bed and looking away awkwardly.

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Steve said as he sat up and shifted closer, placing a hand over Eddie’s. “I just- I don’t want this to be just that.” His other hand reached up to turn Eddie’s face back towards him. “I want something real with you. I want to do things right.” 

“Oh. Yeah, I wouldn’t just-” Eddie shook his head and smiled softly instead, taking Steve’s hand from his face and holding it. “I want something real with you too.” 

Steve sighed, smiled with visible relief. He squeezed Eddie’s hands. “Okay, good.” 

Eddie’s stomach grumbled audibly then, and he said with a grin, “So, how about you take me out to breakfast, sweetheart, and we can go from there?”

Steve laughed. “Sounds good to me,” he said, leaning in to give Eddie one more lingering kiss first. 

Eddie wakes up wanting, a deep ache in his heart like there’s something missing now that he’s awake. Steve is still holding his hand, and Eddie looks over to see the guy passed out in the bedside chair, head lolled to one side, mouth open, a line of drool crusted down his chin. It’s disgusting. It’s fucking adorable. The ache in his heart twinges.

“Goddamnit,” Eddie groans to himself. He knows what this is. He’s got a fucking crush. On Steve fucking Harrington. Of all people. Of course he does. 

For all his anti-jock rhetoric, even for all his protests yesterday about not being obsessed, Eddie always did have a sort of fascination with Steve Harrington in high school. More of a passing fancy, really. He thought Steve was attractive, sure, but in the way a celebrity is attractive - unobtainable and unreal - so it was always more like Steve was just his favorite reality TV show rather than an actual crush. But now Steve is real, and worst of all, he’s kind. King Steve Intangible Hot Asshole Jock Harrington is now Sweet Lovely Gorgeous Goofy Perfect Steve who holds Eddie’s hand when he’s scared and tells stupid jokes to make him laugh and always seems to know exactly what he needs, so of course Eddie never stood a single goddamn chance. Of course Eddie only had to spend one fucking day with this man for his old teenage fascination to trip and start falling for him, for Eddie to start having stupid, sappy dreams about him. 

Because Eddie’s sure that’s all it was. No way was that dream a memory; his brain was just taking bits and pieces of what Steve had said yesterday and filling in the blanks with fantasy. Dumb, sweet, soft, romantic fantasy. Complete with fucking yearning and shit. 

Eddie groans again. Why couldn’t it have just been a sex dream? He knows how to handle sex dreams. Sex dreams don’t come with actual feelings. 

Steve begins to rouse then, probably stirred awake by all Eddie’s grumbling. 

“Morning, sunshine,” Eddie says as Steve lifts his head and wipes the crusted drool from his mouth. 

“Eddie?” Steve rubs his eyes with one hand, then blinks and squeezes Eddie’s hand with his other as his face breaks into a smile. “Hey, you slept through the night!”

Eddie snorts. “You don’t have to make it sound like I’m your infant child reaching a milestone.” He puts on a slight character voice, pitching up his inflection, “‘Baby Eddie slept through the night for the very first time! Mommy Steve was finally able to get some rest!’” 

“Ew.” Steve wrinkles his nose and shakes his head, even as he scoffs out a laugh. “Do not call me mommy.” 

“Oh, sorry, would you prefer daddy?” Eddie asks with a smirk and raised eyebrows. Because he’s stupid and has no fucking filter. 

“Uh-” That startles a nervous chuckle out of Steve, pretty pink blush blooming in his cheeks. Then he closes his eyes for a moment, shakes his head again, and takes a breath to regain his composure. “Yeah, no, that’s not my thing either.” 

“Noted,” Eddie says, and then physically bites his own tongue to stop himself from asking something even more stupid like so what is your thing then? 

“Anyways-” Steve seems a little desperate to change the subject. “No nightmares last night?” 

“Nah.” Eddie taps his fingers against Steve’s hand. “You’ve got some sort of magic touch, man. I never have nightmares when I fall asleep with your hands on me.” 

Steve smiles at that, a small thing. “Told you I’d fight them off.” 

“Man of your word,” Eddie mutters. His heart gives a little lurch as he echoes his dream, a reaction which is consequently made clear and apparent for anyone to see by the immediate uptick of beeping from his heart monitor. So that’s going to be a problem. 

“Yeah-” Steve glances at the monitor, then back at Eddie, a concerned pinch between his brows (Eddie wants to reach up and smooth it away; his heart only beats faster). “Are you alright?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Eddie glares accusingly at the heart monitor, like it’s betrayed him on purpose. “I don’t know why it’s doing that.” 

Steve doesn’t look convinced. “Are you sure? I can go get someone to check on you-” He starts to stand like he means to leave, but Eddie tightens his grip on his hand so he can’t get too far. 

“I said I’m fine, Steve,” Eddie insists, a little sharper than he meant to. He takes a breath, smooths the edge off his voice. “A slightly increased heart rate is not gonna kill me, alright? You don’t have to worry about me so much.” 

“I always worry about you,” Steve mutters. Though he does settle back into his chair, he keeps eyeing the heart monitor and worriedly chewing on his lip - as if that’s going to help Eddie’s racing heart situation. 

“Okay, you gotta stop doing that, man.” 

“What?” 

“Acting all nervous like I’m about to drop dead,” Eddie says. “You’re stressing me out. No wonder my heart’s beating faster.” 

“Right, sorry.” Steve looks away from the monitor and releases his lip from between his teeth, bitten red and plump now. Jesus. 

Eddie breathes in slowly. He can be calm, he can be cool. He takes another few breaths until his heart rate finally starts to chill the fuck out and the monitor stops beeping so incessantly. “See, I’m totally fine.” 

“Yeah.” Steve relaxes visibly. He squeezes Eddie’s hand, gives an apologetic smile. “Of course you are. Sorry I stressed you out.” 

“That’s alright.” Eddie smiles back with a shrug, brushing it off. “Means you care, Stevie. I appreciate it.”

Steve’s expression turns warm then, and about 95% of Eddie’s higher brain functioning is now completely focused on trying to keep his heartbeat steady under the glow of Steve’s smile and the warmth of his hand. He doesn’t even hear whatever it is Steve says in response, just lets the timbre of his voice wash over him. It sounds like something soft, something kind, but not something that requires a reply, so Eddie stays quiet and continues to count each beat of his heart in the easy silence that settles over them. 

~ 

Steve can’t decide if he wants to stay right here forever, holding Eddie’s hand and making sure he’s alright, or if he still wants to run so far from the ache it leaves in his chest. 

Hanging out with Eddie yesterday had been overwhelmingly bittersweet. It felt so good to laugh with him again, to talk with him the way they used to, to see his face all lit up and happy. It felt so good to know that Eddie wanted him there, that he enjoyed spending time with him. There were moments that set Steve’s heart aglow, moments so effortless, so simple, so them, that he could forget, just for a second, all that was still missing between them. But each good feeling came with a stinging aftertaste of grief as Steve would remember and he felt the difference in the depth of their affection like a great gaping chasm, vast and black and bleak. 

His emotions are frayed, all stretched and pulled in so many different directions at the same time. He wants and he worries and he aches and he loves; desire and despair.

Time makes his decision for him, though, as he catches sight of the clock on the wall and suddenly remembers, “Shit- I have to go, sorry. I promised Robin I’d finally come back to work today so she’d stop having to be stuck on shifts with Keith,” Steve says, starting to stand. 

“Oh.” Eddie blinks like he’s been startled out of a trance. A brief disappointment flashes across his face. “Okay.” 

“I’ll be back tonight, though,” Steve promises with a reassuring squeeze of his hand. “Soon as I can.” 

The corners of Eddie’s mouth tug up into a small smile then. “Yeah, I know you will.” He lifts Steve’s hand to press a kiss to the back of it before letting go. “You’re my good luck charm.”

It’s such a small, innocent thing, but it wrenches Steve’s heart. The feeling of Eddie’s lips lingers on his skin like it’s haunting him, taunting him; the barest trace of something that once was, a ghost of what he’s lost. It’s almost cruel. Steve hates it, and he aches for it. 

He’s quick to leave the room before Eddie can see the tears in his eyes. Steve knows Eddie doesn’t like to see him sad.

(part six) taglist (CLOSED): @romanticdestruction @daydreamsandcrashingwaves @paintsplatteredandimperfect @hallucinatedjosten @mugloversonly @estrellami-1 @alongcomesaspider @thatonebadideapanda @tell-me-a-secret-a-nice-one @dragonmama76 @wxrmland @nuggies4life @sirsnacksalot @myguiltyartpleasure @lolawonsstuff @marklee-blackmore @vinteraltus @sebastiansstanswhore @0happyeverafter0 @scarlet-malfoy @hotluncheddie @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @emsgoodthinkin @alyelf @warlordess @stevesbipanic @lil-gremlin-things @rockandrolodex @badcaseofcasey @bat-outta-hel @fandomcartographer @manda-panda-monium @littlewildflowerkitten @giopandaonice @mightbeasleep @queenie-ofthe-void @krazyperson @worldofshea @marvel-ous-m @tartarusknight @a-little-unsteddie @xenon-demon @goodolefashionedloverboi @xxsky-shockxx @mc-i-r @bookbinderbitch @aspenshade88 @slowandsteddie @thedragonsaunt @daydreaming-mood @space-invading-pigeon @irregular-child @a-lovely-craziness (taglist continued in replies; please lmk if you'd like to be removed from this list. if you didn't make the taglist but still wanna follow along, you can follow the tag #dyfamsteddiefic to keep up with new updates!)

#fun and interesting new developments #i am dragging this shit out sorry lmao. not too much longer tho #i'm thinking this'll probably have maybe 3 more parts to it? we'll see. #steddie #steddie angst #steddie fic #steddie fanfiction #steddie fanfic #eddie munson #steve harrington #fanfic #mine #dyfamsteddiefic

[themotherofhorses]

bewitched

pairing: alys rivers x fem!targaryen!reader, minor aemond targaryen x fem!targaryen!reader

summary: she is many things— this witch, and observant is one of them. alys rivers can see the way your older brother stares at you, that mix of heavy lust and longing darkening the violet in his eye.

it is quite cute, she thinks. such a shame she's decided to claim you for herself.

warnings: explicit language. aemond acting like book!aemond in the beginning (violence and death). seduction. mention of canon-typical targcest between siblings. oral (f receiving) and fingering. tiddy sucking. slight breeding kink. alys straight up stealing aemond's bitch.

masterlist

Without any further thought, you had followed your older brother on his sixteen days’ march to Harrenhal, riding alongside him at the head of his army, some four thousand strong. Your mother had protested it a great deal, demanding you stay back and remain with her and your broken older sister.

But you were Aemond’s in the way Helaena’s was Aegon’s, and where he went, you followed.

And it was you, his sweet little sister, who did her best to calm him down when, twenty days later, word of the fall of King’s Landing finally reached him. At dinner, Aemond felt thrice the fool, you knew, and cried out curses at his uncle and the “river scrum” and Rhaenyra, over and over again. His fury was fearsome but never directed at you. He loved you too much. That night, you held him close, cradling his head against your breasts as the two of you slept.

The following morning, he began his onslaught.

Under the dawning sun, Aemond soon killed Ser Simon Strong in a duel, cutting the old man to pieces before feeding the corpse to Vhagar. Ser Simon was the great uncle to Larys Clubfoot, you then remember, grimacing at the blood puddling across the castle’s courtyard. Larys Strong. Harwin Strong. Lyonel Strong. Bits of his limbs were scattered about too, a horrible mess of muscle and skin and greyed hair. The sight made you sick to your tummy.

Bring me his grandsons! Aemond demanded soon after, freckles of dried blood staining his cheekbones and brow. And every man or boy with Strong blood in his veins. The Stranger does not discriminate in his wielding, and neither will I!

You watched in tears as one by one, your brother’s men dragged out both man and boy, some no older than your niece and nephew. Their screams broke out across the courtyard as their bodies stacked in a pile almost three feet high. Clutching Aemond’s sleeve, you begged and pleaded mercy for the children, and for the womenfolk huddled within the wards.

“See reason!” you cried. “They are innocent in all this, the babes especially! Do not let your anger deceive you, my dear brother!” But Aemond was unmoved by your words, to your utter dismay.

No trueborn Strong was spared nor any bastard, both adult and child. All except Alys Rivers.

You pled mercy for her as well, and Aemond surprised you by granting it. He gestured for two soldiers to shove her back inside Harrenhal, safe and alive, before asking if you were finally happy. Your lips curled at the bite in his tone, and the madden glare in his eye.

“This is unlike you,” you told him. “I do not like it.”

Aemond rolled his eye. “And I do not give a shit, sweet sister. If you wish to cast blame onto someone, let it be our eldest whore sister and her damn husband. Ser Simon was a traitor to the crown, and died a fitting traitor’s death.”

“But this was unnecessary, Aemond! You’re many things, yes, but cruel is not one of them.”

“Do you honestly believe that?”

“I know it!” you insisted.

Aemond sighed. His sword was back belted to his hip, hidden by the cloak he wore. “We’ve entered a war, sister. Fairness and humanity do not survive long on the battlefield. Do not expect much compassion during these times.”

You frown. Was Aemond always like this?

Suddenly you wish to be at home, tucked within the Keep’s stone walls, in your mother’s arms. Perhaps if you closed your eyes, you’d be back in the gardens, smelling the warm earthy smell of early springtime and feeling the cool wind play with your hair.

I want to go home now, you wanted to say when you reopened your eyes to find yourself still at Harrenhal. I don’t wanna be here anymore. Anywhere but here.

You did not know this man in front of you. Not anymore. He was no longer your older brother and protector, the man you would soon wed when the moon turned again, and the one you loved with your whole heart. Your eyes drifted back to the corpses stacked atop each other, bloodied legs and arms and messy heads strewn all over the redden dirt.

With nothing else left to say, you turned and left.

She is many— this witch, and observant is one of them. Alys Rivers could see the way your older brother stares at you, that mix of heavy lust and longing darkening the violet in his eye.

It is quite cute, she thought. Such a shame she’s decided to claim you for herself.

Alys felt no guilt at that. You had saved her life, although she hadn’t the slightest inkling as to why. Or, maybe she did, actually. She herself was older by many decades, raven-haired, and as tall as the Prince Aemond himself. Her breasts were still heavy with milk from all the highborn children she fed throughout the years. She was a wet nurse, a bastard woman.

There were so many pretty maids, all of your own years, at Harrenhal, and yet you never once entertained them as companions.

No, instead your pretty eyes remained on her.

As the evening sunlight streamed through the castle’s windows, Alys arrived at your bedchamber, guised as a servant. In her hands, she carried a tray of plated roasted deer, goat cheese, and nutty bread, still steaming from the furn. You’ve barred yourself shut in your room for the better part of the day, too upset with your brother’s carnage to venture beyond the walls. The hour had grown late, and you must be starving.

“My princess,” she greeted softly, bowing when you let her in. You stand by the window, gazing outside at the east gate, near the Tower of Ghosts- one of the five immense towers bent and lumped and cracked from the Balerion’s fire during the conquest. As dark and ruinous as it now stands, it was still hauntingly beautiful. “Might you be hungry?”

You sniffled. “My appetite has fled me, I’m afraid.”

“At least try, child.” Alys set the tray on the desk, before taking a step back to study her new prize.

Up close, you’re very much a Valyrian beauty, with hair as silvery as moonglow and deep purple eyes. There is a certain softness and sweetness to you that strikes her fancy, from the elegant way you hold your posture to how you trailed after your brother, the prince. Her eyes fall to your breasts, and she licks her lips.

“Thank you…um…” you paused shortly, unsure of her name.

“Alys Rivers.”

You nod, smiling. “Ah, yes, Alys. I remember now. Thank you for the food,” but then you shake your head, chuckling, “But I don’t think I can stomach any food after today….brutality. I feel sick just remembering such…”

Alys felt the same way as well, though she didn’t fault the little princess for such. It was all your damned brother anyways.

An awkward silence soon followed, and it left her wondering if both you and her had swallowed your tongues in that moment. She didn’t know what to say or do, so she cleared her throat and offered you the chalice of wine she brought too. “Here, sweet princess. A bit of wine to wash away these ill thoughts.”

“Thank you, Alys.” You took a sip, quickly relaxing your shoulders. Mmm, very nice. “I wish mercy on Ser Simon Strong, and his grandsons too, may the gods give them all rest.”

Ser Simon was her great uncle too, Alys thought with some sadness. “He was an old done man, my princess,” she said, lacing her thin fingers together. She wore two silver rings on each hand that sometimes she twisted when anxious. “I like to think he lived a good life before now. He died with bravery and a sword in his hand, the way many in House Strong dream of passing.” Or dreamt, I should say. I’m the only one left, next to Larys.

The two of you spoke for the rest of the hour, moving to sit comfortably on the settee at the foot of the bed. Alys Rivers was a complete joy to be around, and very beautiful. As she talked, you took some time to admire her. Her green eyes shone like bright emeralds, and her hair was long and dark as the midnight sky, falling thickly around her ample breasts. Maybe it was the wine tonight, or perhaps her voice, but you were struck with the sudden urge to kiss her plump, pink lips.

So you did.

You leaned forward, kissing her— softly at first, until she wrapped her arm around your waist to tug you closer. Nobody had ever kissed you before, not even Aemond, although during boyhood he made several attempts to steal a kiss. Her tongue found yours in a short dance before you broke away from her, a tad breathless now.

“Princess,” Alys whispered, hands falling down to your shoulders.

“Apologies!” You buried your face in your hands, embarrassed. “I cannot believe I just did that—my sincerest apologies, Alys. I don’t know what overcame me, I—” your voice was muffed as you hid away from her gaze.

She just laughed. “Was that your first kiss?... Have you been deflowered, sweet princess?”

You shook your head.

“Really?” Her dark eyebrow lifted in surprise. “With the way your brother looks at you, in truth I would’ve thought his babes were already in your belly.” Prince Aemond hasn’t bedded you yet? Alys was astonished at that. A silver flower still blossoming prettily in the rosebush, ripe for plucking? A slow smile spread across her lips.

“Aemond—he hasn’t…we’re to be married when we return to King’s Landing, I believe.”

“Do you like him?”

“I do. He is a good brother, and he will be a fine husband, and father too!” You said in a quivering voice, trying to calm your breathing. “He loves me, I think, and I love him too.”

But Prince Aemond had made you afraid of him today, she could smell it on you, even if you would never admit it aloud. This was very good. She could use it to her advantage. “Ah, I see. Well, in that case, I wish you two a fruitful and blessed marriage. You’ll make a fine wife when the day finally arrives, little princess.”

That made you pause. “I don’t know…” you mumble, picking at the skin around your nailbed.

“Why do you say that?”

“Well…our elder brother, King Aegon, he took Aemond to a brothel on his thirteenth nameday. He likes to joke that our brother is well-educated in pleasing a woman. I worry that I’m not…I’m not up to his standard. Or that he may not desire me afterward.”

Alys drew back, shocked. Up to his standard? Non-desirable? Does she take him for an utter fool? For what man wouldn’t wish to bed a Targaryen princess like yourself?

She scoffed, leaning her face so close to yours that you could feel her warm breath against your lips. It sent goosebumps prickling up each arm. “Men always love a blushing maiden in their sheets. They may return to the whores in due time, but they’ll always welcome a maid in their bed, however inexperienced she might be.”

Your breath hitched at her words. Could she…maybe….? Your eyes fell back down to her heavy breasts. She was a wet nurse, after all, and confessed to being pregnant with several children of her own. Would that mean she is well experienced in pleasure…? You debated the thought in your head, weighing the consequences of asking such.

Is it really whoring if it is with another woman? It is not like I’m laying with another man….she would be a teacher, not a mistress. You closed your eyes, thinking of Aemond. And Aemond would never know. I’d never tell him.

“Will you show me?” you blurted. “Teach me, so that I might be somewhat educated in pleasure?” Maybe it would take your mind off of this morning too.

Mischief twinkled in Alys’s pretty green eyes. “If it pleases you, my princess.”

Alys is quick to lay you down on the bed before climbing over you, straddling your waist. “I can hear your heartbeat. Do not be scared, little love. Passion is a love song, and lovemaking is merely the dance that follows.” She then takes both your hands in hers, placing them on her breasts. "I am yours to do whatever you wish, my princess." Encouraged by the look she gives you, you rub her nipples with your thumbs, before leaning to take one in your hot mouth to suckle.

She moans, cradling your head closer to her chest. “Good girl,” she whispers, eyes shutting as you flick it back and forth with your tongue.

Your other hand squeezes her other breast, enjoying the way it feels between your fingers and the moans flooding from her lips. You want to ask her if you’re the first woman she’s ever been with and if this moment is as special to her as it is to you. But her tit is still in your mouth and steals all the words away.

After a few more minutes, she pulls your mouth away to kiss you, letting you taste a bit of her tongue. “Very good,” she murmurs against your lips, kissing you again and again. “Did you like my breasts, sweetling?”

“Mmmm,” and you tug at her bottom lip between your teeth. “I did a lot, Alys. They're so soft.”

She giggles before pushing you back down, your head sinking against the pillows. Her soft hand drifts across your belly, fingers skimming below the curve of your breasts down to your hipbones and waist. “You’re so beautiful,” she says aloud, her voice thick with awe. “I dreamt of Targaryens before, but you’re far lovelier than them all, little princess.”

Your brother has been blessed with your hand, she thinks, with a mix of both sincerity and bitterness. Men never deserve such tantalizing fruits. They are all the same in their words and actions. They never truly appreciate the gods’ given gifts.

Her green eyes remain on your naked belly, imagining a soft swell to it. You’d be such a lovely mother, she’s sure. She could never give you a baby, though, but maybe….her eyes look up to yours, noticing the faint glimmers of lust clouding the pretty violet hue. It is a mirror to your older brother, Prince Aemond.

Alys thinks and thinks, taking the time to fondle your smaller breasts.

Prince Aemond could plant the seed…and she could then tend to it.

Alys’s hand continues downward, finding the mound of fine silvery hair between your thighs, grinning when she feels how wet you are. “I wonder if your cunt is as sweet as your lips,” she wonders aloud, more to herself. You bite your lip, watching with large, doe-eyes. Alys moves herself between your thighs, her pretty face hovering over your soppy pussy.

“You are just so lovely, sweet princess.” She flashes you a quick smile while running a finger through your folds, gently easing you open. Above her, you tremble.

She then presses a soft kiss to your clit before sucking it into her mouth, tongue drawing small circles around it. “Ohhhhh,” you moan, face scrunching in blissful pleasure. Alys switches between sucking and lapping at your cunt, her eyes flickering up to watch the way you react to everything. There are tiny beads of sweat lining your browbone and temple, and your fingers are slowly turning white from the tight grip on the cream sheets.   

Scream. Allow me to hear those cries. Let the entirety of Harrenhal learn who’s claimed you tonight.

Your hips buckle up against her mouth as your head lolls to the side, breathless whimpers leaving your lips when she works two fingers inside your cunt, scissoring and pumping and stroking your sweet spot until all you can see are flashes of blinding white. “ALYS,” you shriek, bringing the sheet to your mouth to bite down as hard as you can to muffle the rest of your screams. “Oh, gods be good, Alys!”

You don’t wish for your beloved Aemond to hear you, nor anyone else.

Oh, but you taste so fucking good, Alys thinks, savoring your arousal on your tongue. She continues to eat you out, as well as fucking you with her fingers, partly dreaming of a wonderful new life where she wakes up every morning between your shaky thighs, breaking fast with every sweet orgasm she pulls from you.

My princess, mine own dragon.

Several seconds later, your legs twist around the older woman’s body, breasts heaving as your whole body shakes and shudders. Your pussy clenches tightly around Alys’s fingers, a sign that you’re close to cumming. “Cum for me, sweetling,” she coos, kissing the inside of your thigh- once, twice, thrice. She feels victorious in a way, a great pride simmering within her as she eyes the way your peak comes only closer and closer.

Prince Aemond One-Eye may have sacked her Harrenhal, but she sacked his baby sister, and made the little princess her own sweet whore.  

“Would you like for me to bring your dear brother next?” she asks.

You shake your head, panting through the moans and whimpers and gasps. “He—he won’t…take me—ah, until our wedding night—”

“I have a way of fixing that,” Alys says, leaning to lick a long strip up your pussy. She has many love potions and philtres to entice the prince, a collection that would surely inflame his deep passion and lust for his sister. Although, she thinks in amusement, it shouldn’t be that hard. He wants you as badly as she did, mayhap even more. “You’ll be heavy with his child soon, sweetling, his bastard’s fire blazing in your womb.”

“He won’t father a bastard. Aemond hates bastards.”

“He’d father anything if it comes from your loins, sweet one.”

You cry, flinging your head back as you come undone at her fingers and tongue. Alys drinks everything you give her, mouthing tiny spells against your cunt. One for fertility, the second for a blessed marriage, and the third for protection. Except it won’t be between you and the prince.

Alys Rivers always did prefer women to men.

taglist for "bewitched": @chainsawsangel @sweethoneyblossom1 @dahlias-and-marigolds @ilikeitbetterangsty @inlovewithhisblueeyes @the-cult-classic-bitch @666-aiko

taglist for everything aemond: @randomdragonfires @aemvnd @moonteas @chompchompluke

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x targaryen!reader #aemond fanfiction #alys rivers x reader #alys rivers smut #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #alys rivers #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

[wildemaven]

until now, until you : part one | javier peña

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Reader

Summary: You meet a handsome stranger in a bar, both of you agreeing on certain terms as the evening goes on— no names, no strings attached, no commitments. What could go wrong— or right?

WC: 4020

Warnings: 18+ Blog: Smoking, Alcohol consumption, heavy flirting, smut!!, fingering, protected p in v, nipple play, consent is sexy, reader has zero descriptive features

A/N: I’m deranged and don’t know what happened with this. But I love it and I’m so excited to share more!! Big big thanks to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for continuously listening to this wildness with Javi and correcting all of my mistakes!!

Series Masterlist / Playlist / Main Masterlist

The dimly lit bar wasn’t as crowded as you would have thought for a Saturday night. Its revolving variety of music and drinks paired with the ostentatious haze that accompanied the flicker of candles decorating the tables, it made the perfect backdrop to unwind and people watch. 

From your seat at the bar, you had a great view of the somewhat upscale space. Cushioned high back leather chairs lined the cherry oak bar top, a few chairs provided comfort for a few guests as they faced the array of liquor bottles, watching the bartenders move about mixing elaborate cocktails when requested. Semi-circular booths covered in a rich velvety green fabric lined the opposite wall, each table reserved by a group of ecstatic friends enjoying a small celebration or couples seeking a private spot to lounge in close quarters. 

Your eyes occasionally scanned the room as you sipped the lemony concoction that was recently placed in front of you, the bartender insisting it was a popular drink among regulars, observing the quiet conversations and unfamiliar faces, contemplating over how your evening had turned from a blind date with zero promise of a future, to you now sitting alone in a bar. 

The night was still young when your date and you had come to the conclusion early on that there was zero compatibility between you two. Not wanting your evening or your outfit to go to waste, letting your stilettos do the thinking and guide you to the nearest place in hopes to turn your night around. 

Every so often you find yourself fixated on the handsome man sitting two chairs from your seat, dark chestnut hair styled with some care, a perfectly trimmed mustache framed his upper lip— the perfect addition to his devastatingly gorgeous features. 

His gaze was heavily focused on the amber liquid, whiskey if you had to guess, that he swirled around in the crystal glass. 

In between his own sipping, he’d take a drag off of his lit cigarette. His plush lips wrapped around the tiny tobacco stick with such ease. You were mesmerized by the way his cheeks sucked in with each pull, accentuating his sharp cheekbones. He seems like a seasoned smoker, letting the smoke ruminate through his airways before tilting his head back and blowing the vapor through his gorgeous pursed lips, making an effort to keep it from settling around those sitting within close proximity to him. 

You had clocked him pretty quickly on his arrival, the crisp Texas evening air billowing through the room as the heavy wooden door swung closed the second he stepped into the bar. Your attention was captured by the unfussiness of this mysterious man, dressed in dark blue jeans and a red button up— an attire meant for a more casual setting, but he looked like he was seeking something more than a dive bar could offer. 

He had sauntered his way up to the counter in the most Texas way possible, the heels of his palms resting on the edge of the bar counter as he eased himself into the unoccupied chair two seats over. Your breath catching when his eyes lock with yours, offering a smile and a nod before taking a seat and signaling for the bartender. 

Majority of your evening was spent stealing brief glances, memorizing every little detail of his beautiful face, while trying to muster up the strength to have a conversation with him. You weren’t looking for anything serious, but he definitely seemed like he could potentially liven up the rest of your evening— your brain muddled with a deep attraction and desire to be closer to this man.  

A streak of adrenaline streaming through your system had you feeling bold and confident about your approach, hoping you weren’t coming on too strong in your efforts. 

“Would it be okay if I bummed one of those off of you?” Pointing at the red and white packet of cigarettes, leaning forward in his direction. 

He looks down at the pack, then back to you, his chair swiveling in your direction as he holds out the small box and lighter. You pluck one of the untouched sticks out, placing the butt of it between your lips— not missing the way he watches intensely at how your mouth holds the smoke, eyes constantly flicking back and forth from your lips to your eyes. 

You watch as your thumb flicks vigorously at the lighter, each attempt failing to produce the little flame you so desperately needed to pull off this moment. He must have sensed your frustration, sliding his glass in your direction and his knee knocking into yours as he sits down in the chair next to yours. 

“Here, let me.” He says, taking a hold of the lighter in your hand, his thumb deftly striking the spark wheel and holding the ignition tab.

The flame flickers about at the end of the cigarette, a glow washes over your face as you focus on the long drag of air through the cigarette, the end beginning to form a glowing fiery ember. 

You’re not really sure of the exact process, but you try to play it off like you have definitely had this before. It burns as the smoke settles in the back of your throat, immediately expelling the smoke from your mouth in a few short coughs, waving off the lingering haze floating through the air as you try to downplay the assault on your lungs. 

“First time?” His brows furrowed, concerned about your little suffocating mishap, three fingers bringing his glass up to his lips, his throat tensing as he swallowed down the rest of his drink. 

You mirror his actions, washing down the residual nicotine on your tongue, wishing it was water to help with the lingering burn. 

“What gave it away?” You say, twirling the stem of your glass between your fingers. 

He takes another drag, deciding you hate how sexy he looks doing it, but you don’t want him to stop because it’s making you feel a sort of way each time he does it. Silently torturing yourself with all the ways you would love to see his mouth work— on you. 

“The choking was a dead giveaway.” You both laugh together at how right he is. 

“Guilty! You just looked so— attractive over there with yours, I figured I’d give it a shot. Lesson learned. Here, do you want the rest of it?” Holding out the smoldering cigarette to him. “Plus, they say they’re bad for you— so I guess my lack of experience isn’t such a bad thing.”

He laughs again, grabbing the cigarette from you and placing it in an ashtray, then focusing back on you as he props and elbow up on the counter. 

“You get stood up?” He asks. 

“Straight to the point. What makes you think I got stood up?” 

“A beautiful woman, dressed like that, sitting alone in a bar— a man would be stupid to see you and leave without you on his arm. So, I’m assuming he never saw you to begin with?” He’s confident in his assessment. 

He thinks I’m beautiful? Evening not wasted. 

“Actually, I was on a date— set up by a friend who’s determined to find me someone to settle down with.”

“That bad then?” 

“No, he was a great guy, almost too great. But we wanted different things, and decided it was best if we just ended the dinner early before we went any further.” You explained with complete transparency. 

As you shift yourself in the seat, your foot brushes up against his leg as you cross your legs. You catch the way his thumb slowly skims over his bottom lip, intently watching your foot slide up and down the length of his calf, his eyes then returning to you. Even in the middle of this dimly lit room, you can see the desire sparking in his warm brown eyes. 

“Different? How so?” 

“He wanted a potential wife.”

“And you?” 

Your teeth catch your bottom lip as you contemplate the answer you want to give him, and gauging by how enthralled he is, leaning closer into your space, it’s fair to assume the attraction is mutual. 

“Nothing serious— no strings attached. Just a fun evening to let off steam and then go about our merry way.” You tell him, as you prop yourself up onto the counter, the distance between you gets smaller and smaller. 

His response is a low hum, jaw ticking to the side and an eyebrow cocked upward as he contemplates your suggestion. He finds you very attractive and likes the suggestion of no strings attached— he’s not looking for anything serious either, so maybe a night of indulging is just what he needs too. 

He studies the way your body responds to his touch, placing a hand on your exposed knee that is situated between his legs, thumb drawing light circles over your now pebbled skin. He doesn’t miss the small gasp you let out as hand inches over your thigh, exploring how soft you feel under his callused hands. 

If you could, you’d will your body to come right now. This prequel to what you hope to be amazing foreplay, has your body buzzing with anticipation, craving more of whatever he’s willing to give. 

Confidence erupting through your body, you decide that one night with this handsome man is a very good idea. Waving down the nearest bartender to close out your tab, leaving a more than generous tip, has things in motion. 

Hopping down from the bar stool, downing the rest of your drink in one final gulp before grabbing your clutch and turning to the man still seated, awaiting your signal. You take a move out of his playbook, placing your hand on his denim clad thigh, slowly sliding up towards his groin—  he exhales deeply when you boldly brush your fingers against the growing bugle within the confines of his jeans. 

“I think we both know where this is going…” You say, your lips ghosting over his ear, hand slowly sliding off of his leg as you move around him, heels clicking against the floor as you head towards the bathroom. 

Looking back over your shoulder, he’s watching your every move, giving him a sultry wink and adding a little more sway to your hips as you walk down the shadowy hallway— missing him throw  a few bills on the countertop before stubbing out the rest of his cigarette and finishing his drink in a hastily manner. 

*

You release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding as you step into the bathroom. Nowhere to set your clutch, you toss it into the oversized sink, then bracing your body against the washing basin as your brain catches up to what is about to happen if that beautiful stranger walks through that bathroom door. 

Not just a simple one night stand, but a one night stand with someone you had only laid eyes on 30 minutes prior. 

There was a small part of you that was nervous about the thought of sleeping with someone you knew absolutely nothing about— but it was only a small part of you. The other part was completely eager, an excitement stirring within you, so turned on by the fact that you were about to have the most amazing night in a long time. 

You give yourself a once over in one of the many framed mirrors, different shapes and sizes, hung above the sink— grateful in your choice of a silky shift dress, the fabric draping over your curves perfectly. 

It’s an impulsive move, but a daring one as you rid yourself of your lace underwear, confidence continuing to build as the seconds tick on, carefully stepping out of them and stuffing them into your clutch. 

A light knock on the door grabs your attention, one quick look at your reflection before turning to open the door. You’re met with a rush of air. Bodies colliding, gripping and pulling, strong hands providing stability in a synchronized flow of hasty movements as your back collides with the cool brick wall. Lungs exerting a passionate strain, as you look at the handsome stranger pressed against you. His eyes search for any sign of hesitancy on your face, slowly closing the distance between the two of you. 

The room is quiet once the lock is set, shared breaths drowning out the world existing on the other side of the door. 

“Are you sure you want this? Tell me to stop and I’ll walk right back out there, no questions asked.”  His words fan across your face, hot and honeyed as he seeks your consent to continue.

“Yes! I want this— I want you.” You purr with conviction. His chest is firm beneath your touch, fingers settling into his thick rich brown hair. 

You gasp into his parted lips when you feel one of  his hands cup your unclothed cunt, the skirt of your dress bunched over your hips. His other arm is quick to wrap around your waist, aiding in the support of your now shaky legs. 

“Were you planning on this happening?” He asks as his deft fingers begin to swipe through your wet folds. 

“No— but it seemed like too good of an opportunity to pass up.” You say between staggered rapid breaths.  

“And what if I turned you down?” His hand stills, the question hanging in the air as he observes your nearly blissed out expression. 

You're not quite sure what happened to your usual demure self, and frankly you don’t mind that she is taking a backseat to this exhilarating situation unfolding. 

“I would have gone home and gotten myself off thinking about how handsome you looked sitting there at the bar. If it’s too much of a challenge, my hands are more than capable of handling this when I get hom—“

There’s a mixture of fierceness and purpose behind his heady work, your words forgotten as his mouth crashes against yours in a mess of greedy lips and ardent nips. 

He continues to kiss you with a fervent effort, swallowing the mewling whine that escapes your throat when his two fingers slide exquisitely into your velvety heat. His chest rumbles as your walls immediately clench around him, your body already on the precipice of an intoxicating payoff that it takes only a few swipes of his thumb over your sensitive clit to have you coming all over his hand. 

“Oh fuck!”

There’s a steady buzz of desire burning through you, your head falling back against the wall, mind reeling over the way this man was able to pull you apart with measured precision on his part. You would be lying if you said you were not looking forward to what else he was able to do with the rest of his extremities. 

His warm mouth latches onto your open neck. Blood rushing to the surface of your skin as he sucks and bites along your collarbone, his tongue soothing over the surface as he continues his quest for more of you. 

“I didn’t get your name.” He states as he halts his movements. 

His hair is a tousled mess and you can’t help but admire how gorgeous he is up close. The aurous flecks in his irises, visible even in the soft glow of this bathroom. A flush forming on the apples of his cheeks, the rosy coloring is perfect with his golden skin. His lips are a little fuller, tactile and tempting in their plushness. 

“I didn’t give it.” You muse, brushing the fallen hair off of his forehead. “No names. No strings attached. No commitments. We just enjoy what’s happening and then you and I leave this bar with just a memorable time together— is that okay?” 

“Yeah.”

It’s another blurred rush of motions, now pushed up against the sink facing the wall of ornate mirrors. You watch through one of them as he rips open a condom wrapper in record time, hands hurried as he works it over his hard length. 

“You sure still want this?” He asks once more, his chest flush against your back, the head of his cock notching at your weeping entrance. 

“Y-yes— Please!”

He slowly sinks into you, your moans mingle about in the confined space as he stills to let you adjust to him, his grip firm on your hips as you hold steady to the sides of the sink.  

“I’m gonna move, okay?” His voice is rough against your ear. You manage to nod in response, your brain too dazed at the sensation of his cock inside of you. 

The echoing  of his hips slamming into you fills the room, the drag and thrust of his length hits that sweet spot— eliciting a high pitched sigh from somewhere deep inside of you. 

“Fuck! That feels so good!” Your jaw goes slack, as he continues to punch through your aroused cunt.

His hands begin to wander around. One still firm against your hip, holding your bunched dress out of the way, while the other settles under your breast, oscillating between kneading at the weight of it and pinching at your pebbled nipple— triggering your muscles to grip him tighter as he does it. 

His breath is hot on your neck, forehead resting against the side of your head. 

“You’re so beautiful— the most gorgeous woman I’ve ever seen.” Words freely fall from his lips. There’s weight to them, your stomach dropping as he continues to praise you in the most endearing way. 

You manage to open your eyes in your pleasured haze, his eyes already locked on you and they don’t falter. This isn’t what you expected going into this, to feel anything aside from an amazing kiss and a good orgasm, but this pure infatuation has begun to  creep up into your chest. He’s looking at you with an intensity that far exceeds anything you’ve ever been on the receiving end of— your body craving more of it. 

Your body begins to tense, your cunt clamping down as a lustrous arousal blooms at your core. A surge of heat licks at the base of your spine, you feel yourself beginning to tip over the edge. 

“Oh god! I’m— I’m gonna come!” 

“I got you— I got you. Go ahead, let go.” He nods to your reflection as draws delicate circles over your clit, coaxing the final push needed to reach euphoric heights. 

“Shit! Fu— hnngh!” He moans as the pulsating grip on his dick has him finishing right behind you, his warm spend filling the condom. 

He continues to hold you against him as his movements halt, pressing a trail of tender kisses from your shoulder to the sensitive spot behind your ear, then his gaze focuses back to where you’re still watching him in the mirror. 

“You okay?” 

“Yeah— more than okay!” Still trying to catch your breath, your skin tingling in a post carnal delight. 

The room is filled with silence, the excitement at a low simmer now as he pulls out of you, ridding himself of the condom as you begin to search for your discarded underwear. 

Situating his jeans back onto his narrow hips and fastening his leather belt, all ready to head back out to the now bustling bar when he catches the way you stumble trying to step into your lace underwear. 

“Here, let me help you.” He says, kneeling down to help. 

“It’s okay— I just need a minute for my sea legs to get back to normal.” 

He chuckles softly, grabbing your undergarment allowing you to properly step into them while you steady yourself with the sink edge. He slowly slides them up your legs, fingers lightly grazing over your skin and glancing up to you as he does so, then positioning them just right, your dress falling when he removes his hands from you. 

“Thank you.” You say as you turn to look at yourself in the mirror, your usual timid demeanor now taking over your senses. 

A stillness hangs between you for a moment, neither of you really sure how to feel about what just happened. There was a spark building between you, a yearning for something more than you agreed on. 

“I’m gonna head out then I guess. This was fun— I had a great time with you.” He said, chewing at his bottom lip, tapping his knuckles against the porcelain surface of the sink. 

“Yeah— me too. Thank you for this— I really needed it.” Holding your purse tightly in front of you, nervously picking at the tiny beads that decorate it. 

Taking a few short steps toward where you’re standing, the space between your bodies disappears, his hand cups your face as his lips begin to move over yours without hesitation. You hold his arms, allowing his proficient tongue to meld over yours. It’s passionate and all-encompassing— and there’s an unreasonable part of you that wants to kiss him for an eternity. 

You’re not sure how long it lasts, long enough to crave more and not enough to be disappointed when he pulls away. 

He rests his forehead against yours, then slowly backs away towards the door, giving you one last look before heading out and the door closing behind him. 

You groan in frustration, smacking your clutch into your face as you try to compose your blurred thoughts about what had just transpired— most of them about the nameless man who you will most likely never see again. 

*

The bar is now filled to its max capacity, music levels lifted to accommodate the lively atmosphere. You hang up the pay phone tucked in the corner and head in the direction of the front door. Dancing bodies make it difficult to shuffle your way through, but you manage and welcome the cool air as you step out onto the sidewalk. 

A breeze blows through as you wait by the curb, wishing you had an extra layer to shield you from the wind. 

“Hey!” A familiar voice says, prompting you to turn in the direction it was coming from. 

The handsome stranger, his boots scuffing against the ground as he walks to where you were waiting, giving you ample time to admire him under the glow of the full moon, now noticing the dimple that pairs with the casual smile he gives you. 

“Hi.” You smile brightly at him, a nervousness washing over you as he stands there with his hand on his hips. 

“You need a ride home? My pickup is parked over there— I don’t mind getting you to where you need to go.” He points back in the direction of the parking lot, his nervous rambling is endearing. 

You tilt your head as you let his words resonate around in your mind. You want nothing more than for him to take your hand and guide you to his truck, holding your hand and the door open as you carefully climb into the cab. To watch his profile as he focuses on the road ahead, while some sweet country song about falling in love with a stranger at a bar drifts from the speakers. For him to walk you to your front door so you can both stand there awkwardly, unsure of what to do or say as the night comes to an end. To feel his lips once more before he tells you to have a good night and he’d love to see you again. 

“That would go against the no strings attached part of our deal though.” You explain lightly, the crunching tires of your cab coming to a stop grabs your attention. “This is me. Thank you again— I really had a great night with you.” You lean in and kiss his cheek before turning and getting into the cab. 

“‘Night Handsome.” You say to him as you shut the door and the driver pulls away from the curb. 

He waves you off as the cab drives away, a small part of him hoping this isn’t the last time he sees you. 

#Javier Peña #javier peña x you #javier peña x f!reader #javier peña x female reader #javier peña x reader #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes #until now until you series #pedrostories

[abbyreedus]

Save a Prayer

Sonny x Prostitute! Fem reader

Synopsis: You’re a prostitute at a brothel when a sexy biker drops by for some fun. This was inspired by the EODM’s cover of Save a Prayer, and my desire to let this man do whatever he wants to me.

Word count: 1.8k

No description of reader besides being fem. The picture is just for aesthetic purposes.

Additionally, this is my interpretation of how a brothel in the 60’s might work. It is definitely inaccurate. Please don’t look to me for education purposes lol. This is also my interpretation of Sonny. I briefly researched the real Sonny and watched the Bikeriders trailers like 7 times for reference.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: MDNI, 18+, porn with little plot, unprotected p in v (DON’T DO THIS), reader is a prostitute (DON’T DO THIS EITHER), dom! Sonny, implied age gap (no ages mentioned), mentions of alcohol and drug use, oral m! receiving, facefucking, doggy style sex, spanking, mirror sex, objectification, degradation and humiliation via dirty talk, bodily fluids, I’m sure there are more I missed. It’s just filthy y’all.😳 Don’t read if you aren’t comfortable!

It was another bustling night at the Madam Eve’s Whorehouse, and it became overly crowded when a noisy group of bikers rolled in. You watched the large group from your spot on the velvet couch, looking for potential customers. Despite the crowds, you hadn’t had much action today. The men seemingly only wanted to flirt and browse, but this raucous group might change that.

You noticed Sonny first. He was two sheets to the wind already and probably strung out on God knows what else. He was stumbling over his feet and words, flirting with any woman who breathed in his vincinity. He made his way into the room, and everyone seemed to follow him. He must be the leader of this biker group. You watched him as his eyes traveled the bodies of the scantily clad prostitutes on the various couches that littered the room. He eye-fucked each of them, his bleary eyes wandering from woman to woman until he landed on you. He checked out your body first and stopped at your face. He nodded with a lazy smirk and began making his way across the room to where you sat waiting.

“Hey there beautiful. Name’s Sonny. This seat taken?” Sonny said gesturing to the spot in between you and another girl. His hair and beard were disheveled, but you could tell beneath it all that he was a very attractive man. Sonny had stunning blue eyes and high cheekbones. He didn’t have the best teeth and his breath reeked of whiskey, but this intrigued you. His decked-out leather jacket did little to distract you from his broad shoulders and solid arms beneath it. Confidence radiated off him, and his presence dominated the room. You couldn’t help but feel special that out of all the girls there, he picked you. He didn’t wait for your answer as he sank into the couch, putting an arm around you.

“You come here often, Handsome?” you mused. “I think I would have remembered you.”

“Nah, I just blew into town.” The glint in his eyes told you that he wasn’t in town for anything good, or legal for that matter. Ugh, those gorgeous eyes. They were fucking mesmerizing. He was going to be so much fun.

You gave him your best sultry look and ran your hand up his thigh, practically begging him to fuck you.

“You think you can handle me, Darlin’?” he teased. Sonny’s sexual energy was so infectious. His words were making you weak. You usually weren’t into your clients, but he was different.

Moving your hand from his thigh to his already half-hard erection you said, “I’d love to find out.”

He groaned at this, looking at you through heavy eyelids. You swung a leg over him to straddle him, accepting his look as an invitation, and began grinding your barely-clothed pussy against his growing erection. You let yourself get lost in his eyes as you as rubbed up against him. Both his and your breathing were getting heavy when the other prostitute beside you clapped you on the shoulder and playfully said, “Get a room!”

You both stumbled to an open bedroom, so eager for each other’s bodies. The rooms here were nice. They were equipped with two king size beds, and the walls were lined with full size mirrors. Typically, you’d ask clients what all they paid for before beginning a session, but you didn’t want to stop the bedroom talk for money talk.

Sonny stood admiring the room as you dropped to your knees in front of him.

“Fuck yeah”, he slurred as he began trying to get his pants off. You giggled as he fumbled with his belt, and reached out to help. When you finally got his pants off, you couldn’t help but stare at the absolutely massive cock in front of you. You weren’t used to well-endowed men paying for your services. Most men soliciting prostitutes were doing it because they were ashamed of their bodies. Sonny had nothing to be ashamed of.

“Your cock is huge. I can’t wait to feel it inside me.” you said looking up at him through your lashes.

Without another word, he grabbed the back of your head and forced your mouth onto his dick. He was gentle, but firm in a way that had you absolutely dripping wet. He moved your head back and forth, letting you take your time sucking the tip. His sexy moans and grunts filled the room, and he never took his eyes off you. He slowly began pushing you farther down his length. He was well into your throat now, and you were trying your hardest not to gag, when he suddenly thrust farther without warning. Your throat contracted around his cock, eliciting more moans from the beautiful man above you. You tried your hardest to maintain eye contact as he continued fucking your throat. By this point tears were streaming down your face, and the gagging was giving way to almost puking. Sonny all the while sang you praises.

“That’s a good girl. Choke on this cock you sexy whore.”

When he finally pulled you off his dick, you collapsed to the floor, gasping for air.

He let out a low chuckle. “I hope you’re not giving out just yet. I’m paying for all of you.”

You smiled and wiped tears and spit off your face. You were nowhere near done with him. You also wanted all of him.

“Of course I’m not done.” you said in between breaths. “Why don’t you take that jacket off, and let me see your strong body?”

He chuckled again at you and began removing his top layers. You had to stifle a whimper at the sight of his torso. His biceps were huge and beautifully tanned, his shoulders were extremely well built, and he had some sexily dark tattoos. You could see a heart on his chest, along with some indiscernible names scrawled across his upper chest and arm, a demon on his upper arm, and as if on cue, he turned, showing you his powerful back muscles and two large demon-like tattoos. It was hard not to drool.

He turned back and smirked at your reaction. “Like what you see?”

That was the understatement of the century.

You nodded and clambered onto the bed. “How do you want me?”

“From behind.” he growled, as he made his way onto the bed with you. “Your ass was made for doggy and your face for missionary, but this funhouse fuckin’ room let’s me have both.”

You watched in the mirror as he came up behind you and began trying to remove your lingerie. He didn’t waste any time fumbling with the straps and instead started tearing it from your body. Sonny left you just in your heels and stockings before him as he ripped your thong in one final tug. The mirror granted you the perfect view of him behind you as you arched your back for him. At this, he threw his head back and made the sign of the cross.

“Goddamn you’re such a perfect little slut for me.”

Sonny’s large hands caressed your hips and waist as he sat back on his knees looking into the mirror, admiring his little plaything for the night, until one of his hands found a fist-full of your hair. You moaned in anticipation for what was about to come.

“Love these fuckin’ mirrors... Such a pretty face.” he slurred as he began lining himself up with your slick entrance.

You moaned loudly as he pushed himself inside you. The stretch was somehow both painful and pleasurable. Both of you moaned as he bottomed out inside of you. Your pussy was absolutely bursting at the seams.

“So fuckin’ tight,” he mumbled as he began to rock his hips. “You ever had a cock so big, Honey?”

“No, baby. So big.” you whimpered into the mattress.

You yelped in pain and surprise when his palm suddenly connected with the flesh of your ass cheek.

“No sir.” he corrected.

“No sir.”

Your pussy had become so wet that with each thrust, it let out an obscene squelching sound.

“You like that?”

“Yes sir.” you moaned, as he landed another blow.

He pulled your head up by your hair, so you had to watch him fuck you senseless. You could hardly recognize the woman in the mirror. Your makeup was running down your cheeks, and you looked an absolute mess. Your ass jiggled each time his hips snapped into yours’. He was tearing you apart, and you were loving it. With each hard thrust, your orgasm was building deep in your stomach.

“That’s right, Baby.” Sonny said, slapping your ass again. “I can feel you squeezing my cock.”

Your head had almost found it’s way to the mattress, when he pulled your head back up by your hair again.

“No. Watch me destroy you.” Sonny growled. “God, you look so pathetic.”

At this, you lost all control. Your pussy spasmed around his cock, and you screamed so loud everyone in the building probably heard.

“Oh, FUCK.” he gasped as he pulled out and spilled his load all over your ass and back. When he was finished, he gave your ass one more hard spank and fell back into the bed.

You laid there for a while in the most compromising position, while he caught his breath.

“Towels,” he mumbled and began riffling through the bedside table. Sonny found one, cleaned himself up, and tossed it onto your messy back. You cleaned yourself up, while he sat back and lit a cigarette. When you were finished, you fell to the bed beside him and just gazed at him in adoration. His eyes were heavy, and he smiled over at you.

“What would you say if I wanted to take you with me?” he asked.

Suddenly overcome from all the emotions, you started to cry. Big, deep sobs from within you racked your naked body. No one had ever fucked you so good, then offered to save you from this life of selling your body for money. You didn’t believe in love at first sight, but you were so overcome with endorphins that he might as well have been your soulmate. He cocked an eye at you, and you quickly asssured him that you were okay.

“I would love to come with you. I don’t know who you are, but I know that I never want to leave your side.” you said wiping your tears.

“I guess you didn’t read the back of my jacket, did you? I’m Sonny Barger, leader of the Hells Angels.”

“I’ll be your Angel forever, Sonny Barger.”

“Good. I wasn’t taking no for an answer.” he said as he took another drag from his cigarette.

————————————————————————

Omg guys I’m so excited to share my first ever smutty fanfic. It would mean the world to me if you’d like, comment, and reblog for other Sonny lovers to read. I’m tagging everyone who expressed interest in reading new Sonny fics:

@lazyneonrabbitt @darylsgarden @dilfsandmartinis @r0reep @charlottewatkinsblog

#norman reedus #the bikeriders #the walking dead #funny sonny #daryl dixon #Sonny x reader #Spotify #fan fiction #bike riders #smut #daryl dixon smut #save a prayer

[behoright]

secret situationship with andrei

you, a new intern for the PTs in the hurricanes. andrei, lonely, overworked player. and lots of long hours. warnings: 18+ contains smut, mentions of injury n blood. also this is cliche as hell.

- uhhhhhhh so basically

- yes you have to get a certain amount of hours to graduate and stuff

- and your older friend is a PT for the canes so

- after the scariest interview of your life

- and lots of begging very polite asking from your friend

- you’re in

- tough job tbh

- these men have many ailments

- it takes you a while to figure out who needs what and

- how they all work and move their bodies

- but it’s easy to get accustomed to the new environment when they’re all very nice

- and welcoming

- they’re all very good at communicating and helping you out

- but also they always acknowledge you and want to know more about you

- all except

- Andrei

- oh andrei

- he’s not rude or anything like that

- he definitely said hi and introduced himself

- but he’s very quiet

- and after a couple of weeks you notice

- you work on him the most

- and he’s definitely not this quiet with anyone else

- like not any of the other staff either

- but I mean

- whatever ig

- it’s not that it doesn’t affect you but

- you’re there to do a job and that’s it

- however you see that his teammates for sure have noticed it as well

- whenever he walks in there they go quiet and there’s always a lil smirk from them

you just ignore it

- like he’s really not being rude but he’s just not friendly or ever talks to you

- he’s a lil strange???

- stares at you a lot when you think you don’t notice

- you try to push it to the back of your head and just deal with him

- it’s most likely part of the job and it won’t be the last time you’ll deal with someone like this

- one day tho

- he’s the last one out of the room

- you’re done working on his shoulder and he stands up quickly

- as he usually does

- always says thank you and bye

- you dont notice bc your back is turned to the door but

- he stops and turns around

- “so, uhhhh, what are you doing this weekend?”

- and you turn like ???????

- “oh! um, nothing much, just study, i guess”

- and before you can even ask him anything back

- “that’s good. have fun.”

- and he WALKS out

- you stand there in disbelief almost

- like okay

- in the next weeks he asks you a lil bit more

- the staring is really getting like…. a lot. But it’s only when you’re not facing him like ????

- that’s good tho you think? he’s warming up a lil bit?

- he gets hit by a puck one game and

- thankfully you don’t have to stitch him

- but he has a lovely cut on the top of his cheekbone

- the next day during morning skate it reopens

- while you’re organizing in the PT room on your own

- and he comes in

- sweaty, out of breath and bleeding

- “they open” he says

- “oh, sure”

- for some reason he decides to sit on the lil bench that’s in there

- instead of one of those high massage table things

- perhaps it’s bc he has hockey pads and skates still on and stuff

- so you got over and start working

stand in between his legs

- today tho

- he is STARING up at you

- his jaw a little slack and he’s still breathing heavy a little bit

- it’s hard to work when you have to be so close to his face

- and he is legitimately staring like not looking away once

- you try to get your hands as steady as you can

- “does that feel okay? let me know if it hurts.”

- “perfect. it feels perfect.”

- he almost whispers it asjdydbhehdebdh

- you almost sigh in relief when you get it done

- “there you go. all done”

- you say as you wipe the blood on the cheek from before and

- this man

- wraps his hands around your like jaw/neck/hair

- you know that part 😭 like when his thumb is under your ear

- and as he stands up he kisses you

- a full on kiss

- he pulls back when he’s standing up

- looks at your lips

- looks at your eyes

- kisses you again

- he breathes DEEP into the kiss oof

- after that second kiss he almost books it out of there

- just walks away

- says nothing

- doesn’t look at you

- and you’re just left standing there

- flushed, heart beating overtime, breathless

- what the hell just happened ?

- should you tell someone?

- why? and like what???????.??

- you just…. go back to what you were doing

incredulous

- he definitely avoids you after as much as he can

- awkward glances only

- when you see him he doesn’t bring anything up

- goes back to being quiet

- until you’re alone again

- “hi”

- “hi”

- “uhh….”

- “what can I help you with today, Andrei?”

- “uh, it’s my ankle. You know, the usual”

- so he lays down and you do the thing in silence

- you keep thinking how RIDICULOUS this is

- when you’re done…..

- “do you need anything else, Andrei? Another kiss, maybe?”

- and he does tHE STARE AGAIN

- 5, 4, 3, 2,…..

- he can’t help but sit up and kiss you again

- after that day the floodgates open

- instead of avoiding you he SEARCHES for you

- you guys sneak everywhere just to kiss and make out

- he finally opens up and he’s actually quite friendly and funny

- he hides you in storage rooms, one stall bathrooms, the PT room, empty video room….

- you guys just make out like teenagers

- you’re VERY careful not to get caught and so far it seems like no one has any idea

- but its very obvious to you both that things are starting to get a lil heated

- during your last makeout sessions he keeps pushing his body against yours

- like hard

- like.... your back hit the wall hard and he's low-key grinding on you

- but youre able to stop it before anything happens

- you guys always leave super flustered and breathless

- orrrr

- his hands start to wander a lil bit...

- from your face, then eventually your waist and now he loves to grip your hips as you guys kiss

- you can feel in the kiss too how bothered he is

- the way his tongue moves... much more aggressive

- much more spit, and biting, and even teeth

- or he'll put his hands in your hair and even grip it at times

- during the last couple of times you both moaned a little bit shh

- and he was definitely hard when he walked out

- so one night

- you're both at the arena late

- as you both usually are because yes you have things to do

- but also for your regular nightly makeout appointment

- when he walks into the PT room tonight tho

- he looks

- different

- like girl.... different

- his EYES

- much darker, much bigger

- practically black

- he doesnt say anything to you

- he just walks slowly towards you

- "uh.... Andrei?"

- finally he reaches you

- youre immobile, literally frozen

- he's actually mouth breathing dude

- his nose touches yours

- "I can't fucking wait anymore."

- "I can't pretend I don't want it."

- 4, 3, 2, 1

- he parts your lips with his tongue

- HARSH kiss

- while he grabs the back of your head

- HARSH makeout session

- grabs your waist after and immediately and puts you on the lil massage table thing

- you're both moaning already

- he RIPS your shirt open

- rips it with his hands, split right in the middle

- "fuck"

- he pulls your bra down and just starts attacking your neck, chest and tits with his lips and tongue and teeth

- he only pulls back to take off his shirt and his sweatpants come down easily thanks to you

- his cock springs out bc he is not wearing any boxers

- its huge, and red, and actually throbbing

- the flush of his cock matches the one on his heaving chest

- he pulls you down the table and turns you around so he can take your pants off

- theres a lil table next to him with a bunch of equipment and stuff and its in his way so he just shoves it out of the way and it all goes flying

- but he needs his space and he needs You most importantly

- now

- i can't even say he thought about any sort of protection srry

- he fills you up quickly

- all the way in with one thrust

- doesn't give you time to adjust but you don't care

- "you are soaked, shit"

- he thrusts so hard the slapping sound of your bodies colliding is so loud

- and you are facing the OPEN DOOR to the room

- if someone walks by you're in so much trouble

- but truly you don't even care

- because hes fucking you so hard and so good

- and he's so big

- he hits all the right spots but also makes you bend over a lil more since he is in your guts

- and he's groaning and panting behind you

- his other hand is wandering around on your body

- he grabs your tummy, or your tits, or runs it down your back, buries it in your hair

- he moves it down to your clit after spitting ON HIS FINGERS and audibly too

- applies the most pressure when he's rubbing your clit in circles

- there is no way to conceal any of your moans it just feels so good

- you're both getting sweaty too fkjvnkfjv

- safe to say you finish relatively easily and fast

- he cums with you

- straight up just

- fills you up with his cum

- you can actually hear it filling you up its so dirty

- andrei finishes with the loudest groan

- it rumbles so deep in his chest it's almost a growl

- the change between horny andrei and afterwards... dramatic

- he turns you around and he looks completely different

- "you okay? I hurt you?"

- "what? no, that felt amazing"

- and he smirks yOU KNOW THE ONE

- takes a couple of steps back and leans against the wall behind him bc he's still out of breath and hot and sweaty

- but the whole time looking at you

- you both look over at all the stuff he threw on the ground

- he chuckles before turning back to you

- "made a mess, uh?"

helps you clean it up after you get dressed bc he feels bad and he's so embarrassed

i must also say you guys were not the last people at the rink.... little did you know marty decided to stay back too....but... did he hear anything?

#andrei svechnikov #andrei svechnikov imagine #andrei svechnikov fic #andrei svechnikov x reader #andrei svechnikov smut #nhl #nhl rpf #nhl smut #nhl fic #nhl imagine #carolina hurricanes #canes #hurricanes #smut #rpf #andrei svechnikov blurb #nhl blurb #blurb #kikiwrites

[wormdebut]

67 if the steddies is still open!!!

HELLO THERE! Hi! Sorry this took a second, but it is here. And it certainly is something. #67 on my Spotify Wrapped is Judas by Lady Gaga The following blurb is rated a Hard M/Soft E. There is religious fuckery, daddy kink, hand kink, and spit. (Isn't there always with me?) Anywhozle, minors DNI. Everyone else, Enjoy.

----

Eddie loves Sundays. Sundays are great. He has time to lay down a few new guitar tracks, he gets high at noon, lounges around his house in his boxers. Sundays are great. Lately, Eddie gets something better than all of that though.

He gets Steve Harrington, pent up and in his Sunday best.

Eddie fucking loves Sundays.

He checks his watch, 12:15. Lovely. Steve should be here any--Eddie smiles to himself when he hears the soft knock at his front door. His soft boy.

Eddie waltzes over, pulling the front door open and Steve's eyes--big and wide--meet his own.

"Hi." Steve breathes as his eyes run up and down Eddie's shirtless tattooed chest. Eddie holds back a laugh, but can't stop the smirk when Steve's eyes go wider when he drags his gaze over Eddie's half hard cock in his boxer--He was tracking a bad ass song. So he got a little excited. Kill him. Steve's eyes snap back up to Eddie's.

He has a staring problem, Eddie's boy does. Eddie grabs him by the waist, Steve letting out a soft hum as Eddie pulls him inside. Sweet little thing.

"Hi baby boy." He says before pulling Steve in for a kiss. It's not even anything, a quick thing. Eddie has done much worse to his baby, but Steve whimpers. Melts into it.

So, church was rough today then.

Eddie can work with this.

He deepens the kiss, pushing his tongue into Steve's soft mouth, past his pink lips. Steve's lets out a noise between a sigh and a moan. Whines when Eddie pulls away, chasing after his lips.

Eddie leans back, grabbing Steve's face. Steve leans into his hand, hums. Eddie runs his finger over his cheekbone, delighting in the red blush running over his pretty face. He cocks his head, "Rough service?"

Steve shakes his head, still leaning into Eddie's touch. "D'wanna talk about it. Just want you." Steve jerks his head out of Eddie's hold and leans forward, trying for a kiss and Eddie clicks his tongue against his teeth, dropping his hold of Steve completely.

Eddie makes his way back to his sofa and Steve just stands by the door, eyes wide, frown wider. "I--Eds please." He breathes.

Eddie throws the strap of his guitar over his back and levels Steve with a sharp look. "Please what baby boy?"

"I--I need--" He stutters and Eddie raises an eyebrow. "I need you, daddy."

Oh. Steve only pulls that out when he's particularly down. Eddie tries his best not to smirk. His pretty baby will get what he needs, always does.

"I know you do, precious. But, I need to get this guitar tracking finished. So why don't you come over here and wait while I do?"

Eddie watches as Steve pouts. Perfect pink lip jutting out. Eddie sighs, "Stevie, you better put that bratty little lip away right now. You wanna be good, don't you?"

Steve straightens up and nods. Lets out a breathy "Yes."

Eddie smiles at that. "There's my good boy. C'mere, kneel in front of me. I want you to watch."

Steve is quick, doesn't even bother to take off his suit jacket as he rushes over. Eddie is quicker, throws a pillow down, before Steve can hurt himself on the damn hardwood.

"Jesus, baby." Eddie breathes. "Be nice to yourself."

Steve just kneels, eyes locked on Eddie's, doesn't speak. Doesn't want to. He is a man of little words on Sunday afternoons. His stupid fucking church ruse takes everything out of him.

Eddie hums, leaning forward to run a hand through Steve's hair, before he settles back into the sofa and hit the record button on his mac. This song is intense. Heavy guitar, he loses himself in it, like he is wont to do. Things couldn't be better for Eddie, he's got a successful music career and a fucking angel at his feet.

It's over before he knows it. He looks to Steve, still dutifully kneeling on his pillow. Eddie expects Steve's eyes to find his, like they always do, but Steve isn't looking for eye contact. He's looking at Eddie's hands. He watches as Steve's eyes track his fingers as he pulls off the guitar, sets it on the couch. Steve's eyes follow. Eddie smirks.

He snaps his fingers and that's what does it. Steve's eyes jerk up.

"Whatcha thinking about baby?" Eddie asks.

Steve just hums. "Your hands--fingers. Want 'em."

Eddie smirks, patting his lap, come here baby boy."

His boy scrambles up, quickly sitting in Eddie's lap, he leans forward for a kiss, which Eddie allows, before he leans back running his thumb across spit slicked lips. Steve's mouth drops open, tongue lolling out and Eddie--well.

Eddie pulls, forcing Steve's mouth to open wider and spits. Steve moans, but doesn't swallow. Knows not to.

"God, you are such a good boy." Eddie growls as he plunges to fingers into Steve's mouth, running them over his tongue, mixing his and Steve's spit. He pushes them back, into Steve's throat, "Swallow baby."

Steve groans as he swallows around the fingers in his mouth. Eddie can feel his cock through his dress pants. Today will be fun.

Eddie pulls his fingers out, watches as Steve's tries to lean forward, pull them back in. He taps at Steve's cheek, rubbing the spit up and down his pretty cheek.

Steve whimpers. "Oh my god."

Eddie laughs, darkly. "Mm no baby, God's not here."

----

Jesus is my virtue, and Judas is the demon I cling to.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie blurb #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #I almost wrote a whole ass fic yall dont even look at me #happy birthday to ME and happy birthday to the whole family #WOOF #worm brain #worm spotify series #honeybad

[angstflayer-council]

July Drabble #7- Breaking Like Dawn

He's warm.

That's the first thing Steve notices as he slowly comes to, almost like swimming through molasses. It's not how he usually wakes up these days. Since the accident, Steve can't remember sleeping more than three hours at a time, always waking up with a start, drenched in sweat, panting, shaking. Even though he can't remember them, he knows he has nightmares.

This time, however, his body is heavy and comfortable, his heartbeat slow and steady. He can see the bright light of a new day through his closed eyelids, and it takes him a moment to realize what it means. He slept through the night. Inexplicably, this makes his nose itch, and his eyes burn.

Taking a few soothing breaths, he slowly opens his eyes and lets the world come into focus. Sunlight comes from a large window slightly to his right. He has no recollection of ever having been here before, but no fear accompanies this thought. There's just this heavy feeling, like there's lead in his veins instead of blood, as his eyes wander over the unfamiliar walls and furniture. It looks cluttered, lived in, and real in a way that his sterile designer loft decidedly does not.

A rustling sound draws his eyes to the floor in front of the sofa, where a mop of dark brown curly hair, frazzled and wild, is peeking over the edge of the cushions, the angle blocking Steve's view.

Steve moves silently, careful not to wake whoever is sitting there as he tries to get a better look. With his elbow under him, he slowly pushes himself up, just enough to look down at the sleeping face.

It's breathtaking, a study in juxtaposition. Prominent nose, bridge straight, tip wide and round. Long, dark lashes kiss high cheekbones. Plush pink lips add unexpected softness to a face that could easily be all edges and sharp lines. Something stirs in the back of his mind as the warm golden glow of the early day paints shadows across the hills and valleys of those lovely features.

Another room, another morning, the same beautiful face bathed in soft light. The same fascination, a fluttering feeling in his stomach that he can't, won't, examine.

A memory resurfaces, once buried deep, rising like the sun.

"I dunno, you're the boss's son, I don't want any trouble."

"You saying I'm not worth a little trouble, Munson?"

"I'm saying a quick fuck is not worth risking my job for, Harrington."

"Awww, who says it has to be quick? Gonna take my sweet time with you."

Those lips against his. On his neck, his thigh, his cock.

His own lips moaning a name. Eddie.

Him waking up to the sight of this man in his bed, sheets tangled between his legs, body covered in bruises, bite marks, red streaks left by fingernails.

"You should leave."

"But -"

"You don't want anyone to tell my father, do you?"

Well, fuck.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #july drabble game #st drabble #steddie ficlet #steddie drabble

[ideaofheaven]

— LESS SUGAR (onew x reader)

Synopsis: A playful first impression with a certain shining idol in your own coffee shop takes your life into an interesting turn. A merge of two worlds, you never expect Jinki to provide you company and comfort. But he does, all the while ordering lattes and pastries.

Pairing: Lee Jinki x fem!reader

Genre: coffee shop!au, idol!Jinki, fluff (like, lots of fluff), piniiiing, angst, smut

Word count: 17376 words (lmao its a SLOW burn)

Warnings: sakura jinki!! (Yeah it’s a warning), mentions of diet, implied depressive episodes, heavy make out, vaginal fingering, Jinki big dick agenda, domsub undertones, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, cream pie (careful folks), minors dni!

AN: Happy 525 everyone! What other perfect timing to celebrate my love for SHINee’s leader. But actually, I wrote this one almost 2 years ago now?? And I thought yeah no way this will stay in drafts forever. I just need a sweet fic for dearest Jinki, you know? Please enjoy!

+++

You empty a box of newly arrived goods. After a few considerations, maybe you should’ve arranged the displays at night when you have more time instead of in the mornings before you open the store. But they look fine as it is; the coffee grounds are lined up neatly, and the rustic decors compliment them well. Deciding the shop is all ready, you check the time. It’s only a few minutes before 7 o’clock, so you flip the wooden sign from ‘close’ to ‘open’.

Almost a year has passed since you opened your own cafe. The journey wasn’t a walk in the park. From the loans, experimenting in your apartment kitchen, and the amount of time and energy spent gathering the resources. But you made it, now owning a small cafe that can house up to fifteen customers. Often perceived as a friendly person, you managed to gather a handful of regulars.

The bell chimes, and you turn to see your regular coming in through the door. “Good morning, Eunmi!” You chirp, before noticing her gloomy visage. “You look particularly bright today. The usual?”

The regular, Eunmi, is a working woman who lives nearby with her husband. She sighs before nodding. "I only slept for a couple of hours.” She drags herself to the counter. “Do you remember that co-worker I told you about?”

She rambles on, complaining about this and that while you tinker with your coffee machine. Occasionally you laugh, but you mostly take your time to listen. Eunmi is the one who requested you to open the store earlier. Not having any problem with mornings, you happily oblige. Ever since, with a raging need for someone to vent to and a caffeine boost, she visits daily.

“You should take a day off,” you advise while finishing off the beverage. You grab the paper cup carefully, gesturing to Eunmi who’s still sitting down. “One almond caffe mocha to go.”

“I’ll think about it,” she murmurs tiredly as she gets up, dragging herself to her coffee. “I’m off, then. Thanks for the drink!”

With a wave, she leaves the cafe. There goes your early morning regular. You go back to your favorite pastime, rearranging the items on your shelf. You are contemplating putting the house blend on the front counter to replace the Vietnamese Arabica when the door chimes. Delighted, you shout, “Welcome!”

A man walks in hesitantly. At that moment, you can't possibly recognize him. He wears a mask and a baseball hat. The hoodie and the dark jeans make him appear like one of the people from your neighborhood. 

What you notice is that he’s a new customer, and his eyes are... pretty.

You push the last thought aside and switch to your customer service mode. “Here’s the menu,” you gush, your voice sounding too pitchy to your ears. The man blinks at you before his gaze falls on the printed paper.

Your mind betrays you and chooses to zone in on the man before you. He’s tall. His dark brown hair stops above the nape of his neck with soft strands of fringe framing his defined heart-shaped face. Though it's hidden by the mask, you can see his high cheekbones. Despite that, you can’t help but focus on his hooded soft brown eyes.  From your place behind the counter, you’ve seen many attractive people. You noticed their neat makeup, their perfectly curled hair, their luscious lips, or the way they dress. Being attracted to someone’s eyes seems incredulous. But even his eyebrows look nicely groomed.

He lifts his gaze which inevitably meets yours. Your stomach lurches in embarrassment and you stupidly let out an “oh” before putting your best smile. Please don’t notice. “What would you like to order?”

If he notices, he doesn’t show any sign. “Can I have a brown sugar latte to go?” 

His voice sounds like the drink itself; warm, sweet, and syrupy. You perk up. “Great choice. Will that be all?” The man tilts his head, humming. Cute.

“Make it with an extra shot of espresso.” You’re already grabbing the pack of grounds when you respond with good humor, “Tough day ahead?” At that, he chuckles, low and bright at the same time. Warm and syrupy indeed. “Everyday is a tough day at work.”

You laugh, but perhaps the curiosity in your expression is too obvious, because the mysterious customer’s eyes crinkle with amusement. 

“It's tough work, but I love my job,” he says in what you perceive as teasing. 

“Sure, sure,” you snicker, now pouring measured liquid brown sugar into the paper cup. You’re confident in your coffee-making skills, and you can’t wait to hear his reaction. Maybe he can join your not-so-long list of regulars.

“Brown sugar latte with double shot.” You give him the paper cup. “Enjoy!”

Another eye crinkle smile grazes his covered face. With a closer look, there’s a slight jaw movement behind his mask. “Thank you very much,” he responds and you notice the formality. “By the way, do you happen to sell any food?”

You bite the insides of your mouth. “Yes, but I only stock them later,” you explain ruefully. “The bakery usually delivers the pastries at 9 o’clock. I apologize.” You bow and he immediately raises both of his hands, waving them frantically. 

“Oh, no, no, it’s okay. What do you have?”

“We have a selection of buns, scones, pound cakes, egg tarts,” you gush. “They’re all delicious. But I personally like their traditional pastries. Injeolmi, red bean rice cake, yakbap, fried tteok dumplings. Auntie does a great job every time.” 

Unlike other cafes that bake their own food, you work together with the local bakery that happens to make the best traditional pastries you’ve ever tried. You know they aren’t as popular as the more western pastries, but they always pull the older customers to your cafe, even becoming your regulars.

His eyebrows shoot up all of a sudden, “You have yakbap?” He asks in apparent surprise which you mirror excitedly. “Yes! Oh my god, do you like them?” He nods. “Would you like to try? I can have them stocked tomorrow.”

“Isn’t that too much trouble?”

"Of course not. But," you emphasize. "You have to come visit tomorrow morning. Promise?” The surge of boldness takes you out of nowhere. He’s just one customer who only bought one drink, but you can’t deny the urge to see him again. So when you saw the chance, you knew you had to take it.

“I will, I promise,” he chuckles and your worries melt away, swept away by the soothing voice of his promise.

+++

At 8 o’clock, the door chimes. You almost jump from behind the counter.

“Good morning,” the man from yesterday greets you with a small bow. Today he’s wearing a dark jacket over a simple tee. Without yesterday's baggy clothes, the outfit centers on his broad shoulders well. A mask is still in place, but now without the hat, you can see more of him. At least more of his soft-looking short brown hair. A surge of familiarity rushes through you. After a quick run through your memories, your mind comes up blank. You shrug off the thought but he’s faster to notice you zoning out.

“What? I promised, didn’t I?” He mumbles, and you respond with a small laugh, “You did.”

You usher him to the counter, pulling out a small basket. “Now here’s my end of the deal.”

“What’s all this?” He glances in the basket. Inside is a handful of pastries, covered neatly in plastic wrap. “There’s so many!” 

You smile proudly. “I asked the bakery for a sampler basket. So these are their best-sellers. We have a kaya bun, blueberry lemon scone, garlic basil bread, yakbap,” you wink, “fried tteok dumplings, and red bean rice cake.”

“Wait--”

“And I’ll give you a special price.” You send him another cheeky grin, and you feel triumphant when you see his resigned face.

“I didn’t expect you would prepare a whole basket… But thank you,” he sighs before breaking into one of his eye-smiles. It looks so familiar and the feeling starts to gnaw at you once more. Like reaching out to remember a dream, it feels close yet you can't come up with a name to associate his face with. You snap back to reality, hearing him say something in your direction. “Yes?”

“I’d like to have the drink from yesterday,” he states almost giddily. “It’s delicious. I thought it’d be too sweet.”

Oh. You cover a smile with the back of your hand, secretly proud of yourself. Elated, you lean in before you even know it, catching your customer's attention.

“Be sure to come back for more, then.” Right after the words leave your mouth, you recoil. You sound like you were flirting, and you don't flirt with customers.

“Oh, don’t mind if I do." You stare at him in surprise, seeing the teasing glint in his eyes. Flustered, your throat tightens.

“R-right. One brown sugar latte coming up.” Warm, sweet, syrupy… Sticky.

After finishing the latte with sprinkles of cinnamon powder on top, you put the plastic cap on and bring it to your only customer. The man is sitting in the corner, on one of the chairs that has its back on you. He's eating a piece of yakbap from a plastic wrapper when you approach the table. “Here’s-"

Perhaps, that day you forget that people eat with their mouths. Uncovered. In the end, nothing prepares you to witness the face behind the mask.

A few weeks ago, you were watching TV on your couch. One of your favorite dramas had just ended, so you were stuck watching a random variety show. Loud screams pierced your ears, making you jump so you checked the show. A couple of people were sitting at the table, and one of them, a handsome young man with light brown hair and lovely eyes, was reenacting his version of the famous Gwiyomi song. What a weird guy, you thought with a laugh while seeing him kiss each of his fingers just a little too passionately.

“- your drink,” you finish shakily. The new information almost freezes you in place but you put on your best (worst, stiff) customer service smile anyway. Defying another expectation, Onew - oh god, it is him - takes the paper cup from your hand. Your fingers touch briefly and you swear there's a jolt that tickles. The idol is staring at you with a hint of worry, indicating he knows the cat's out of the bag.

You should leave him be, he might be uncomfortable. But then, a sight of empty plastic wrappers catches your attention. "How's the food?" You inquire placidly. Creative.

The worry in his face dissipates very slightly and you realize how different he looks now without the mask. You can see the plump lips parting before he says, "You're right, they're so good."

The compliment somehow melts your worries. 

"Right? They taste exactly the same since I was a child. Auntie had just started baking the western pastries a few years ago, but she’s too tired to run the bakery full-time. So I thought having her pastries in my cafe would be perfect," you stop, internally scolding yourself for rambling all that to the celebrity, "I talk too much don't I?"

"You own this cafe?" The man asks instead, his mouth gaping and eyes wide. Adorable.

"Owner, barista, waitress, slash everything," you rub the back of your neck, pressured by the questioning gaze he has on you. Without his mask, he seems more intense. Or, you are subconsciously affected by his idol status. While this is not the first time you meet a celebrity from behind the counter, it is the first time you're engaged in conversation with them. Especially with someone of a high tier like him. Someone amazing.

"That's amazing." His voice echoes, jolting you back to reality

"What?" You sputter. He definitely notices you zoning out because his smile - you can see his mouth now, oh god - is too mischievous and knowing. This is getting too much.

Rigidly, you peek into the paperbag, noticing the amount of pastries left. "What are you going to do with them?" Onew looks at the paperbag before standing up and grabbing the bag. "I'll share them with people at work."

You step back with a laugh. "Do you think they'll like it?"

"I think they will. Well, some can't enjoy it due to… a strict diet. But one won't hurt." Onew takes his coffee in one hand, and the paperbag in the other. He raises both hands slightly, gesturing with the items. "Thank you. I'll be going now."

"No,” you begin tentatively, “Thank you, Onew." 

You internally pat yourself on the back for letting that out.

His ever so expressive eyebrows rise before he lets out a bark of laughter. "Well, isn't that unfair."

"What is?"

"I see you know my name already," he supplies, staring down at you with a pretty gummy smile. "But I don't know yours."

Heat rushes to your cheeks when his words sink into your brain. You would pray it wouldn't show but you find your tongue unable to form useful words. Instead, as an uncontrolled fight or flight reaction, it responds haughtily, "Come back tomorrow, and I'll tell you."

You curse the random unsolicited rush of courage. But Onew's surprised expression is already morphing into a half smirk, and you can't decide if you regret it.

"Deal. I'll see you tomorrow, miss."

Exactly one minute after the door closes, you curl up on the floor and let out a groan. What just happened?

+++

Jinki knows he shouldn't be doing this.

That morning, he woke up exactly three hours before his first schedule of the day. The warm sunlight tempted him to go for a jog, but the ache crawling through his body reminded him what a bad idea that was. The day before, the dance instructor had drilled them with another wild choreography, and in the morning, his joints were positively protesting.

So he took a walk. Enjoying the sunlight, he left the rows of high-rise apartments for the quiet residential complex. The bustle of the crowded market and gossipy house-wives felt like a calming noise, and he continued his walk until he turned one corner.

Nothing should've caught his attention, but everything did. The shop's facade of pale red bricks was a splash of color in between the other buildings. A couple of vintage lantern lamps decorated the shop, and there were wooden signs with intricate lettering on the wall and glass door. Jinki realized it was a coffee shop, a small one. There and then he thought he needed his caffeine, and the nearest Starbucks was blocks away. So he went in, met the cute barista, got a delicious latte, and left.

And ever since, he keeps coming back for more.

“Someone enjoys visiting this little place,” she laughs one morning, cocky and amused. It’s his visit for the third time in a row. Borrowing her high energy and boldness, he smirks in reply.

"You’re the one who asked me, though," he mentions, holding a small cup of her manual brew. A new house blend, she had mentioned. It has a subtle sweetness to it, which Jinki likes.

"Asked what?"

"To come back here." 

She chuckles, that rare hint of shyness surfacing once more. "I was just messing around."

But he wasn't, and back then, he would do anything to get to know her name. So the day after her request, Jinki returned. After an order of one brown sugar latte and five miscellaneous pastries, all to-go, Jinki sat down and propped his chin on top of his folded hands, waiting. His legs were fidgeting, a sign of anticipation and nervousness that he was well attuned with.

"Are you dining in?" She asked, probably feigning innocence, as she shuffled through various packets of coffee. What a tease.

"No," he responded curtly.

She moved away from the shelves to the edge of the counter, facing him. Oh, she's doing this on purpose. With a hand covering her mouth, she laughed silently. Jinki thought she shouldn't hide her laughter, or her smile, because it’s pretty and bright, just like her. 

"I'm sorry, I owe you something, don't I?" She asked sweetly, like those drinks she makes for him.

"Yes, you do." Jinki managed out, a crooked smile gracing his lips in a low effort intimidation.

"Okay, okay," she resigned. "You should make a habit of checking the bill, Onew."

Realization hit him and he rushed to pull the bill out of his pocket. There, written in neat handwriting, was a name. In awe, he said it once, testing it on his tongue—and he heard a crash.

"Oh--oops," she clambered to grab the fallen coffee packages. Jinki was wondering how attached this woman was to her coffee supply before he took a glance at her face. Pink tinted her cheeks and he wouldn't lie, it was a sight to see. Presumably annoyed, she was about to say something but Jinki just called her name once more, abruptly stopping her. So he raised his chin, taking a better look at the flustered barista with a satisfactory smile, “Everything okay back there?”

She nodded once before turning away, cheeks still flaming as she broke their eye contact. He just laughed. Cute.

Today, he finds himself once more in front of her store. Earlier, he found out Minho already had plans to visit his mother, and so, Jinki was left alone in the dorms. He's used to being alone in the apartment, but today he has a particular yearning to be somewhere else but home.

"Onew," she greets, ever so cheerful in the mornings. "The usual?"

Despite the merciless schedule in his line of work, Jinki hasn't met a lot of morning people. Especially the ones who are comfortable with an early schedule by nature. It took him years after debuting before his internal alarm worked properly. And after hundreds of cranky morning schedules, he finally could manage his mood well. She must have been born with the sun smiling upon her. Perhaps that is her destiny, to wake up effortlessly and share her energy through caffeinated beverages. Jinki has an urge to ask if she ever stays up late, maybe later.

"Actually, can I have an iced americano?" Jinki asks after a quick glance at the menu. This time he needs something with less sugar.

She is beaming, as usual. "Sure. But I recommend you drink it fast, it's warm outside—"

"I'm having it here." Jinki already grabs a seat, putting his bag and pulling out a book. Her expression is a mixture of confusion and delight. "...Is it okay?"

"Of course!" She exclaims all too fast before rushing to her tools.

An amicable silence stretches. Hisses and clamor from behind the counter occasionally fill the air, but otherwise it's quiet. After endless days in a loud environment, he appreciates the silence. He can’t remember the last time he sat still like this, without TV or a Youtube video to accompany him. He takes his book, a best-selling novel he picked up from the airport months ago during his work trip, and starts reading it. When his iced americano arrives, he thanks her properly and dives back into the story.

It's peaceful. At some point, she puts on music. Slow to medium-tempo songs in foreign languages, and it doesn't disrupt his reading, in fact, he enjoys it.

During his stay, customers come and go. He can't see them, because his back is facing the major part of the cafe. But he can hear them clearly. And interestingly, they talk a lot. One customer, a young girl, comes up to you, gets a large glass of iced chocolate milk, and proceeds to tell you about her crush. Another, an elderly man who apparently visits regularly, orders one hot barley tea and a red bean paste bun. Then he starts to give her updates on his newborn grandchild. Jinki hears her squeal before she asks for the man’s wife or daughter.

He finds all the interaction endearing, somehow.

"So, what's the occasion?"

The sun is now high up in the sky, signalling it's nearing noon. Jinki was feeling tiny pricks of hunger when she appeared near his table, a few tupperware in hand. "It gets lonely," she said cheekily. With each little talk they exchange, Jinki wonders why he didn’t ask her to sit here earlier, enjoying her company very much. And not before long, she offered some of her food to him, which he accepted with little resistance.

“You’ve never dined in before, what’s the occasion?”

Jinki takes one slice of rolled omelet with his chopsticks. "It's my day off," he answers.

"You have a day off, and you came here?" She looks up from her food and gapes at him. He nods.

"The apartment's empty, Minho is visiting his parents."

"It must be lonely."

"Not anymore,” he responds in earnest, and a grin emerges when he sees her fluster. Jinki is not a prideful person. He doesn’t absorb compliments like it’s his source of energy. However, knowing he can affect people like this, especially in such tight interaction, does boost his ego in a productive way. Additionally, he enjoys seeing her reaction. She’s very put together, confident, sometimes cheeky, but those rare moments when she gets caught off guard charm him. It’s like her fire turns into cotton candy, all cute and sweet.

Jinki can’t get enough of her.

“Is that one of your killer moves, Onew-ssi?” She says, hiding her strangled laugh by raising her chin with defiance. But he knows better. See? Charming.

He puts his chopstick down, and proceeds to lean his head on one knuckle. The gesture seems to affect her, because her smile falls and she’s blinking rapidly at him. “No, it’s not," he states before an idea pops into his head. "Call me Jinki."

Her mouth falls open. “What?”

“Please call me Jinki.”

He watches as she gapes wordlessly, like a cat got her tongue. In the end, she just nods softly, saying a quiet “Okay,” with a bashful whisper of his name. Hearing it, Jinki can’t help the giddiness bubbling inside him and a smug smile that graces his lips. His name sounds pretty on her tongue, and he immediately knows he will want to hear it more. 

Jinki thinks maybe that is his killer move.

+++

To have a celebrity coming back to your cafe, and getting to know them is an oddly enjoyable experience.

One morning Onew--no, Jinki arrives with all his attention on his phone. He’s typing furiously before craning his neck to see you. “(Y/n),” he says in an exaggerated whine, eyebrows furrowing and lips pouting comically cute, “Kibum is being mean to me. He said we can’t hang out today. I’m so sad. I need my sad coffee so can you please get me a--”

“Jinki, don’t--”

“A despresso?”

“Oh my god,” you sigh audibly, a fond grin in place, making him snicker as he rubs the back of his head.

"Get it? Like espresso but depress-"

"Yes, Jinki. I get it."

Every time Jinki visits, you enjoy his company. Granted, he’s not the type to talk much, and when he does, he always manages to surprise you. You don’t know what’s worse, his dad jokes, or the fact that he’s not aware how much he’s driving you crazy. Does he know his teasing words can be wrongly interpreted as flirting? Does he know he looks good in even worn out shirts? Does he know you start to think he's been coming here not only for the coffee? With that being said, you weren’t prepared for Jinki’s presence in close proximity almost everyday.

"Whatcha' doing?" Jinki asks, his face leaning over the high counter, peeking into your workspace. His mask is off, and like his perfect face is not distracting enough, he's wearing a black sweater that snug nicely on his body. You notice how broad his shoulders are, or how his collarbones look so prominent, hanging above defined pecs. Focus, you have a job.

"I'm trying to make a new drink," you reply, measuring in teaspoons of the powder you prepared. You take the recently bought bamboo whisk to mix the powder. New tools in the kitchen always get you excited, especially if it’s your first time using it.  "Do you know hojicha?"

He tilts his head, thinking, and you wonder if it's necessary for him to jut his lower lips like that. "No. Is it Japanese?"

"Mmhm, it's Japanese roasted green tea.” You start whisking the water and the hojicha powder, and Jinki gawks. As the mixture gets frothy, you elaborate. "I've been wanting to try to make it, maybe someone will be interested." Grabbing another cup, you mix the diluted powder and the milk, the ash-colored tea mixture turning the milk into gray-ish brown. "They say it tastes best with milk."

"Ah, really?" Without a warning, Jinki shots one hand forward, taking the glass from your nimble hand. You yelp at the sudden movement. He then takes a big gulp, craning his neck to drink it properly and you can't take your eyes off of his Adam's apple as it moves with each gulp, and the veins running on his neck. Shit. He pulls the glass away, and using his other hand, he wipes his mouth. Your throat goes dry. 

Unaware of your struggle, he hums, "It's good. Bitter, but good.”

Shaking yourself back to reality, you take a deep breath. "I was about to say I hadn't put the sugar in."

"I think you don’t need it. Or just put a little," he grins, gesturing the aforementioned amount with his index finger and thumb, a small distance lingers between them. His fingers are pretty, you think absentmindedly. His other hand puts the empty glass back onto the counter. "You're really good at this."

At that, your heart swells with pride. "Of course, I don't want my customers to go."

"Me as well?"

"You as well,” you state, genuine. You can tell him that as much. “My early morning was never this fun."

Jinki snorts. “Me? Fun?” He asks, pointing a finger at himself. “People say I’m weird.”

“No offense, Jinki, I didn’t say you’re not weird.” The man barks a laugh and you join in. “But that’s what makes you fun. You're not boring."

Not for the first time, you witness his expression turn sheepish, almost shy and awkward. His fingers fidget behind his folded arms. But he quickly recovers, waving off your compliment.

"What about the other customers?"

The question perks your attention. "I have the best regulars," you reply, thinking of all your customers and their anecdotes. "I love talking to them."

"They seem to like gossiping with you."

"They do! Jinki, they talk a lot. There's this lady who will order parfaits only when she's upset or having a fight with her boyfriend. And also the working man who usually comes in evenings, he always asks if I serve alcohol. It's really hilarious—"

"But you always listen to them."

"Of course I do. Like I said, I love talking to them, I really do. Granted, mostly I just listen to them venting out their problems. But I guess it helps and my beverages too - " you stop yourself. "Sorry. D-did I bore you?"

"No, not at all," he answers, short and fast and most definitely teasing. "I enjoyed it. Come on, tell me more." Jinki is still leaning on the counter. His head is in his propped hand, eyes crinkling in amusement, and his plump lips are curling into a soft smile that makes your heart race. You feel warmth crawling on your cheeks.

"Don't say that. Gosh, that was embarrassing." You're still trying to hide your face behind your hands when a large palm lands on your head. You look up, and see Jinki who has straightened his back to full height, looming over you. Then, his hand is in your hair, ruffling it playfully.

"Cute," Jinki coos with a smile that shows his brilliant teeth and melts your insides into goo. After messing with your hair, he pulls his hand back and you swear his fingers brush past your cheekbones, the touch eliciting shivers down your spine. Unbothered, Jinki goes on his merry way and continues talking about random things as if nothing happened.

The audacity.

+++

"Alright, spill, what's up."

Eunmi's voice pulls you back to reality. Smell of food floods your senses, sweet and sour from kimchi and vinegar, and you remember your lunch with Eunmi. You look at your friend who's grabbing her spoon with a slight annoyance clear on her face.

"What? Nothing," you insist, diving back to your buckwheat noodles to avoid her piercing stare. She tsks at you, not buying the excuse.

"Nothing my ass, you've been staring at the pickles this whole time."

You're not in your cafe, in fact, you close it up for a while to have lunch out. Eunmi invited you to a restaurant near her office, only one station away from the store. It’s a cozy diner that’s not too crowded or loud, so you can talk comfortably. Eunmi brings her own car, and promises to drive you back after lunch.

The fact that even Eunmi realizes your weirdness makes you startled. You listen to her a lot, but it’s never the opposite case. You know your friend well enough to understand she won’t usually catch up on your mood swings, especially because you’re not the kind of person who shows your emotion on your sleeves. But that man just won’t leave your mind, not after driving you crazier with each passing day. Jinki keeps coming over, all smiles and charms and never forgetting to compliment you and your drinks.

And for whatever reason, you always end up talking about yourself for a good amount of time. That never happened before, not before him. You prefer to listen, and you do that well. But with Jinki, rarely does he ramble to you, instead it’s the other way around. Without a doubt, you’re getting too comfortable with him. And how can you not? He’s humble, polite, his smile lights up the whole room, and he looks like that. All soft brown hair and handsome.

"I know that face," Eunmi interrupts your trail of thoughts, her face beaming with mischief. You blink your eyes. That can’t be good.  "There's someone, isn't there?"

"What? No!"

"Nu-uh, you can't fool your unnie. You’re smiling like a teenager just now,” she teases while grabbing another spoonful of her dried pollack soup.

You splutter. “I-I did?”

“So, who is it? Come on, tell me something. My coworkers suck and I need some drama."

Cursing your luck, you grumble. Eunmi must be very perceptive to recognize the look on your face. But telling her about Jinki is impossible. You won’t be able to get away by saying “I think Onew from SHINee has been flirting with me non-stop.” It’s going to be a mess--no, a mess would be an understatement.

You take a deep breath, “It’s complicated, okay?”

"Tell me about it." Eunmi snorts.

“I can’t tell you just yet.”

She stares at you directly. “But?”

“It’s just…” You begin, hand already moving to cover your mouth, as if it could help you from the massive embarrassment you feel while discussing this. “I don’t know if I’m reading things correctly,” then, “Like, what if I’m wrong?”

“So you don’t know if he’s into you, or he’s just being nice.”

"Exactly!” you gasp.

She suddenly smirks, leaning back against the chair, "That's easy, just make a move."

"Make a move?"

"Yeah, make a move,” she repeats easily, “Do something similar to what he did to you, and see his reaction. Maybe he's just waiting."

You ponder upon her advice. It’s solid, and actually doable. Albeit unsure, you keep it in mind. "Alright, I’ll try.”

You finish your lunch and go back to the cafe. Eunmi, being the best combination of a friend and a customer, requests a chocolate marshmallow frappe before she returns to her office. Back to your usual place behind the counter, and Eunmi on the chair, she tells you about her vacation plan.

“A long weekend trip with your husband? That’s amazing!” You exclaim to Eunmi who’s radiating happiness.

Eunmi slurps at her drink, humming pleasantly from the sweetness. “Mm-hm,” she responds, the joy radiating from her is a refreshing sight compared to the usual gloom. “We’re going to Damyang.”

“I’m so happy for you,” you gush, patting the older woman’s shoulder. “So you’re leaving tomorrow?” 

She nods. “Finally, a time off from those douchebags.”

You laugh, remembering her stories of the god-awful co-workers, then a jingle halts you.

“Oh, welcome!” You say and immediately feel your stomach drop as you see Jinki. Shit, the timing is so bad. Jinki rarely comes in the afternoon, what's up with the rare occurrence? And just by scanning his clothes, you’re more baffled, because today's outfit today is more extreme than usual. He’s wearing one of his worn out track pants and regular trainers.The grey jacket looks okay but he’s wearing the hoodie over a snapback. You can’t see even a strand of his hair. By default, his mask is also on, so you’re not too worried about him being recognized by Eunmi.

Jinki makes his order, glancing at you with sharp eyes, something he doesn’t usually do because you already know his usual menu. You just respond formally before dashing to where your drink machine is at, from the corner of your eye you see him taking a seat near the corner. Not long after, Eunmi’s face is in front of you, worried.

“He looks sketchy,” she whispers in a rush. Jinki? Sketchy? You bit your lip, trying to hold your blank expression in place, instead of the urge to grin.

“Really? I think he’s been here before, though.”

“How can you recognize him? This guy’s all covered from head to toe, (Y/n). It’s so creepy. I hope your man doesn't look like that."

You almost choke on air. Internally you're praying Jinki didn't hear the last part. “Right, right.” You peek at Jinki with a bothered expression, crafted meticulously to deceive Eunmi. You're definitely going to tease Jinki about this later. “I’ll be careful.”

Eunmi grabs her plastic cup before hoisting the bag up her shoulder. She points her manicured nails at you. “You better be, ‘cause I have to go now. Call me if anything happens, okay?”

“I will, don’t worry,” you smile at your customer. Eunmi waves at you, gives a pointed look at Jinki’s back, and goes out of the store. As soon as the door closes, you slump on your post, letting out a loud and exaggerated sigh. You turn your sight to Jinki and find him facing you in his chair. The shit-eating grin on his face makes you more tired.

"Don't get closer, (Y/n)," he acts out, and you're already rolling your eyes. "I might bite."

You blow a raspberry while striding towards his table, a drink in hand. "Sure, sure, can't trust strangers who wear too many hoodies all the time," you grumble, putting Jinki's iced americano on the table.

The man has the audacity to pout at you in retaliation. "Not all the time."

You giggle. "What's the occasion, then?"

"Nothing." He slurps the black coffee, nonchalant and ridiculously bad at lying.

Baffled, you glare at the man who keeps drinking the beverage without care. With another brief observation, you note his outfit is actually not that different than usual. But he never wears a hoodie and a snapback. You can't even see his hair.

Oh.

“I get it!” You clap your hands excitedly as if you’re a seal. “It’s your hair, isn’t it?”

Jinki hisses through gritted teeth, forcing a crooked grin while his eyes are already looking away from yours. Bingo.

“Is it a new color? Did you cut it short?” 

Mischievously, Jinki puts a finger in front of his plump lips. “Company secret.”

You pout, and he chuckles. The mischief in his face is annoying yet somehow innocent, you can't bring yourself to get mad at him. It doesn’t help that he looks positively entertained by his own game of guess. But you're ever the curious one, and seeing there's no other customer right now, you have to find out what's behind the hat. 

Without much thought, you swat a hand at his snapback, tipping everything that's covering his head backwards. 

"Hey!"

As if in slow motion, the hood of his jacket is pushed back, and the hat falls to the floor. Anticipation builds up in your mind when you realize you’re about to see the hair. You hear Jinki yelp, and—

"It's pink!" You gasp out, overwhelmed. Out of all things, you didn't expect to find a mop of mauve pink colored hair underneath the hat. The shade is slightly muted, making it look less artificial. For some reason, it fits Jinki so well. His lightly tanned skin and the hair combined creates an exotic appearance of him.

Jinki is now pouting again, jutting out his lower lip like the hair is a punishment. "I wanted to surprise you, you know."

You tut at him, but leans down to take Jinki's cap off the floor, dusting it slightly. "How long would I have to wait?"

"Uh, until the comeback?"

"You haven't even announced the date," you reply with an unamused expression.

Jinki chuckles. "That's true." Out of a sudden, he poses. "Ta-da! Now you know I have pink hair." The sight brings warmth, because gosh, he's a sight to see. Then, with a huff, Jinki twirls the locks of the aforementioned hair, playing it around. "It's my first time, too."

You, however, are not paying attention to what he's saying. Questions pop into your head, wondering if Jinki’s hair feels soft like how it looks right now. With the lighting in your store interior, combined with warm natural light from the outside, the hair color looks chrome-like. It’s, no pun intended, shiny. All of a sudden, you feel a strong urge to touch it, curious how it will feel against your fingertips. Albeit hesitant, Eunmi’s words echo in your ears, motivating you to test the waters.

Leaning down, you ignore Jinki’s confused gaze and pull a lock of the sakura-colored hair. Your hunch is proven correct, it’s soft and luscious. As if in entrance, you caress more of his teresses, moving them out of his eyes while your fingertips occasionally graze his ear. You’re positively jealous of the care that goes into this man’s hair. It’s so soft, you want to pet it all day. Jinki can lay his head in your lap and you’ll definitely caress his hair all day long without a single complaint. The thought makes you giddy.

Your silly daydream is abruptly stopped when a large hand closes around your wrist, gentle yet firm. Realizing what you’ve done, you yelp.

“I’m sorry, I just--” You look down from the mop of hair to Jinki’s eyes, wide and as surprised as you. The close proximity catches you off guard. When did you lean in this close? 

All of a sudden, every word dies in your throat. But his next words bring more surprise.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Y-yes?"

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Jinki cuts through the endless chatter running in your head. That’s not a question you ask out of nowhere, isn’t it? His voice, as usual, is warm… syrupy, but there’s a darker edge in it that you can’t comprehend. You blink at the question, still mute from the shock.

As if shocked by his own question, he visibly gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing and stealing your attention for a second.

“That customer said something about your man.” he murmurs reluctantly. Realization hits you hard, and your jaw drops. So he did hear your conversation with Eunmi.

“No!” You blurt in a rising panic. “There’s no man. No boyfriend.” With each word, your voice becomes more quiet, the embarrassment sucking away your confidence in front of him. But It doesn't help that Jinki’s scrutinizing you from under his eyelashes, making you shrink even more. Finally, the corners of his lips quirk up.

“Really?” He asks, sounding pleased.

"Yeah. She's just teasing me. She does that a lot," you explain with a nervous laugh. You don't know how convincing your lie is, but it makes him hum, the sound is like music to your ears.

“Good,” he whispers before you feel his thumbs rubbing circles on your wrist, languid and relaxed. The calluses of his thumb drag against your smooth skin and you inhale sharply, feeling ripples of heat course through your body from the touch. His half-lidded eyes are now assessing you and you can’t look away as they move on to your lips. As if falling under a spell, the action triggers you to spontaneously look at his lips in turn, full and parted and driving you crazy.

A loud voice jolts you two back to reality. A ringtone. Phone call.

Jinki lets go of your wrist, now panicking and patting his pockets. "It's mine. Where is it, where is it..." When he finds the phone, he picks it up while standing up. "Yes, hyung?"

You see him walk away with clouded senses. Unable to pick which feeling is appropriate to express, disbelief or relief, you give up and run away from the premises, choosing to bury yourself behind the workspace.

+++

"How did it go with your man?" Eunmi asks, face literally glowing after her vacation.

You only groan in reply.

+++

It's closing time.

Moving on to the table top surfaces, you take a cloth, spraying it with a liquid cleaner and getting it ready to wipe the surface. It's going to take a while, but you don't mind. Cleaning makes your mind wander, but at least you're doing something productive.

It's one of the nights you stay late to tidy up new items and play around in the kitchen. You had finished the second attempt of an earl grey frappe before you began tidying up. The clock struck 10 o'clock a few minutes ago, so it's already an hour after your closing time. You already flipped the sign to close, but your lights are still on, intending to turn them off when you leave the store.

Days had passed after that weird confrontation with Jinki. The close proximity you shared that day still brings you heat and confusion in equal amounts, and Jinki didn't make it easier for you to get through the following days. You never addressed that day, not at all. But do things go back to normal? Not exactly.

Jinki keeps getting closer to you. You notice the brush of his fingers against your skin while passing his drink, when you talk on his table he'd tap your arm, or when he's about to leave he likes to give a playful squeeze on your shoulders. On rare occasions, he would tuck your hair out from your face while smiling sweetly before rucking the tresses into a mess. Unhelpful. In addition, you can’t stop talking to him. The man has an excellent capability to extract words from you, asking things about yourself, from your favorite drink to your life before this cafe. 

With the comeback date getting close, it’s not surprising when he doesn’t visit as often anymore. Once in a few days he’d come through your door and then scream your name, saying a nonsensical “I miss you!” Little did he know you share the same sentiment, but multiplied and definitely lack the jest. 

With his absence, your heart longs more for him. You realize the intangible distance between the two of you has decreased, and you can’t suppress your feelings anymore. It’s silly to fall for an idol, cliche, even. But with his soft demeanor and warm smile that always graces his heart-shaped face, it’s impossible not to.

Despite the admittance of feelings, you’re still in a limbo. You’re not an expert in love. Chasing your dream from a young age, you have no time for romance. You’ve had a fair share of crushes here and there, but never this complicated. It’s impossible to ask for advice, too.

Remembering Eunmi's words, you did make your move on Jinki. And his response was something you never quite get. Did he hate it when you touched his hair? Can you even consider making a move that time a success? Do you even know what success would be like? Many times you stopped yourself from touching him again, whether it’s his hair (which is still bright pink, by the way), or to grab his hand for whatever reason. You’re so drawn to him, like a moth to flames and it’s making you helpless.

By the time you finish polishing the last inch of the counters, the door jingles. An annoyed sigh escapes your mouth, someone doesn’t read the sign on your store. You turn to the door.

"I'm sorry, we're already closed—"

Upon recognizing the visitor, your heart beats faster with surprise and inexplicable yearning. You haven’t seen him in days, and you already forgot what he sounds like. He’s wearing another random baseball hat, but the usual mask is absent. His lips are turned into a frown, his brown eyes, usually so full of life, are unfocused, and the eyebags look prominent. The unusual state makes your stomach twist with discomfort.

"Jinki?” You take a step closer. “It's very late."

The mention of his name jerks him back to reality. Raising his head, his gaze locks with yours wearily. Tentatively, he opens his mouth, trying to get words out, but nothing comes out and he looks away, looking so defeated. Running by instincts, you step closer to him, pulling him by the wrist to drag him in. Now with him standing close to you, you can see the tiredness on his face. The little freckles on his skin are like constellations of stars, you notice he’s not wearing makeup, and you can’t help but find the mole on his chin endearing. He looks so beautiful, but tired.

"Jinki," you call out again, worry lacing each word. "Are you okay?"

As if on cue, Jinki lets out a quiet sigh that makes your heart drop. He doesn’t sound like the usual Jinki you know, and you immediately receive the answer to your question. Gathering your courage, you put a hand on his broad shoulder, and take the other to pull his hat off in order to take a closer look at him. You succeed without any restraint from the man. Then, you rub your hand on the fabric of his shirt, trying to give some sort of reassurance, for what, you don’t know yet, but you’re trying. You see Jinki’s eyes glint for a second, and suddenly a head thumps against your collarbone. Oh. Your hands stop moving, and his hat falls to the floor soundlessly.

Jinki sighs again, this time his warm breath fanning over your clothed shoulder, making you freeze even more. Your head is filled with nothing but the close distance you share with Jinki. His forehead presses firmly on your shoulder, the weight starts to feel heavy, so you stand tall, pushing against the man who’s significantly taller and larger than you, with your hands hanging awkwardly by your sides.

"...It's difficult." You hear him whisper.

You try to peek at him, but all you can see is his soft pink locks. It looks fluffy, despite the hat covering it before, if not slightly damp. Quietly, you inhale his scent, floral and musky but mostly covered by the smell of sweat. It must be from a dance practice. For some reason, you don’t mind it.

"I know my limits, and I've been doing this for years," he murmurs into your shoulders, voice weak and slightly muffled but you still can hear every word. "But it really doesn't get easier."

The words hang in the silent air, with no one speaking afterwards. Deciding to stay and listen, you let him there on your shoulder. Questions run through your head, along with many emotions you’ve never felt before for the man; pity, worry, adoration, and surprise, but you don't dare to speak or ask. Not in such vulnerability.

The next minute runs slowly, and the only thing you can hear in the empty cafe is you and Jinki’s breathing. You hope yours doesn’t sound too fast, but you try to ignore the self conscious thoughts for now.

Suddenly, Jinki tenses and pulls himself away, straightening his back that’s been hunching to reach your height. With his face bare from any makeup, you can see a light flush on his cheeks, and his ears are pink, adorably matching with the hair. He's devastatingly beautiful, and you can’t help but stare in awe. Still drowning in embarrassment, he doesn’t seem to notice.

"I'm very sorry," he whispers, formal all of a sudden, voice still close.

"It's okay." You pat his back with a smile, hoping to cease his groundless embarrassment. "You don't need to apologize, I don't mind."

Jinki looks at you for a moment, mouth parted and eyes expressing an emotion you don’t quite understand, then they turn to crescents as he smiles softly. 

"Really?" He asks, voice surprisingly even, a contrast to the state he was in before, and nimbly you nod. "Can I borrow your shoulder again, then?"

Oh. "Y-yeah." Your stomach does the twisty thing and when Jinki once again lays his head on your shoulder, you can hear your heartbeat going faster, thumping softly in your ears. For god's sake, you hope Jinki won't be able to hear or worse, feel them. Without a warning, Jinki shifts his head to the side, and--is he nuzzling? You swear that’s the tip of his nose touching your neck and now there’s puffs of air caressing your veins.

This is too much. It's your first time being this close with him, and it's not the best time to have physical reactions from this intimacy. Ignoring the shivers crawling on your skin, you will yourself to stay still, and even your breathing.

The two of you stay there. Again, you hear Jinki's breathing, then you hear your own. You’re not a physically affectionate person, but all you wish right now is to embrace him properly, to stroke his back and let him stay there for as long as he needs.

So you do that, you raise a hand to his head, caressing his pink tresses. Almost greedily, he leans into your touch, as if he's been waiting for it. With a fond sigh, you can't hold yourself from ruffling his hair further.

“You’ve worked hard.” 

Maybe those words won’t be enough, but you find no fault in trying.

You hear Jinki inhale sharply, then he exhales in resignation before pulling back. He’s now standing at his full height, and you have to raise your head to see him properly. Relief blossoms when you catch his calm expression. With that, you share a moment of comfortable silence, exchanging unsaid words through intangible mediums. Then, you pat his shoulder twice before moving away from his personal space.

“Sit down, I’ll make you tea,” you declare to the now panicking man, rustling to get the kettle. Jinki's face is glowing, despite the lack of makeup. He looks animated, tired, but breathtaking. It's almost like you're seeing him in a new light.

"I thought you're already closing up," he complains weakly, and you offer him an innocent smile, pulling one tea bag from the box.

The sound of a chair being pulled is your winning declaration.

"You don’t have to.”

"And you have to drink some tea. Chamomile can help you sleep better," you chide, bringing the cup to the table. As you sit down, you see him fiddling with his hands.

"So… How's your day?"

"Like usual," you shrug. "But less fun without you." His face lights up and you stifle a laugh. "I made an earl grey frappe, but it still needs something."

"A new drink? Can I try?"

You smile widely. "I'll make it for you next time."

"Make sure you don't put too much sugar in it," he winks, and it prompts a laugh from you. Jinki looks better now, more refreshed and light but you catch him zoning out a few times, his gaze seemingly focusing on your face, making you squirm internally.

"What?" You ask, noticing him staring at you again. And he just grins, showing off the adorable gummy smile.

"Nothing." And he's back to his tea. By the time he empties his glass, he offers to wash it by himself. You almost drag his hoodie to stop him, but you finally relent - he already rushes to the sink, that man - and lets him do what seems to be one of his ways to thank people. Relieved, you start to recognize his usual self once more, so you join him with a lighter heart.

You’re taking off your apron when you notice a solemn expression on his face.

“How are you getting home?” He asks.

"I take the bus from the main street, then I walk for a few blocks."

His face turns dark. "Every night?"

You blink at him, searching the issue. “Yeah.”

"Let me drive you home," he declares, walking to your side. "It's already late."

"It's not my first time going home this late, it's fine."

His eyebrows furrow. "No it's not." Much to your surprise he gently takes your hand in his, like he’s hesitant. After seeing no discomfort from your part, he squeezes. “Please, let me drive you home.”

You know you can’t say no, the sincere concern in his face melting your resistance. You simply nod, requesting a few minutes to turn off the lights and pack your bag. He complies before preparing to leave the store first.

"I park my car near the convenience store.”

"The one in the main street, right?" He affirms, and stops. Confused, you wait until he leans closer. He ruffles your hair, messing with it playfully. You yelp a complaint while he laughs, and suddenly, he puts his snapback on top of your head. 

With that, he leaves the store to prepare the car.

The gesture leaves you reeling, so you hold the cap to ground yourself. Belatedly, you realize this is going to be the first time you go out with Jinki outside of the comfort of your store. You know it’s nothing big, but it feels new, and exciting. And he’s going to drive you home, the gesture feels too intimate.

Arriving at the main street, you catch a sight of a black car parking near the convenience store. Right by its side is Jinki, waiting for you. He notices your form walking towards him and immediately opens the passenger door for you. Seeing you gawk, he grins.

“Come on,” he says, leading you closer with his hand on your lower back. The action makes you warm inside. You go inside the car wordlessly, and he joins in.

Maybe it's because of how late it is. Perhaps tea does have a good amount of caffeine. Regardless, the two of you are way too lively, especially after a long day of work. Jinki keeps playing random R&B songs and almost plays SHINee’s new song by accident, eliciting a gasp from the man and a delighted squeal from you. You keep telling him the directions, and the car strolls from amidst tall buildings to the residential area, where there are only smaller apartments and condos. He takes the final turn, and you excitedly point at one building, your apartment building. It’s a humble one, but you like how the location is far from dangerous areas of the city, and it’s neat. When Jinki finally parks the car, both of you whoop a drunk-like yaaay! while still laughing at each other.

Jinki gets out of the car first, humming sweetly, and you follow suit, the quietness of your neighborhood contrasts deeply with how loud it was inside the car. But it's a nice and welcomed contrast.

You skip to the staircase to the lobby, and you notice Jinki following you before he stops right before the first stair step. Turning towards him, you're not unfazed by the ever present smile on his handsome face. 

The high energy you both share simmers down, turning into a calm and light atmosphere. Surrounded by comfortable silence, you drink in the sight of him, a man that's shining so bright even in the middle of the night, on a sidewalk. However, the moment must come to an end.

"Thank you for driving me home."

"No," Jinki begins, looking straight at you with his dark eyes. "Thank you, (Y/n)."

"Don't mention it," you giggle. Realizing the item on your head, you take it off, offering it to him. "Your hat."

He waves it off. "Keep it until I see you again."

You only grip the snapback since it doesn't look like he's giving you another option. So you nod before taking a deep breath. "Alright then, good night." You exhale, disappointment creeps within your words, unnoticed.

"Wait."

You're about to turn towards the lobby to climb the stairs when his hand grabs yours and unceremoniously pulls you to him. There's a short moment of clarity and your five senses heighten, noticing his smell, his presence and—His lips press unto yours, soft and slightly chapped, you note in a daze. Warm rush of joy fills you, and you're about to return the kiss when he pulls back, the sight of him leaving you speechless. If he was glowing before, now he looks like the sun, all warm smiles and overwhelmingly bright. Even in the dark his pink hair paints an unreal picture. Catching you off guard, he leans in to plant another kiss, this time on your cheek, your disappointment is too apparent because he’s chuckling softly when he drags his lips to your ear.

"I'll see you tomorrow," he whispers hotly, eliciting pleasant shivers down your spine. Leaning back, he waves innocently, gesturing at you to get into the building.  Speechless and flabbergasted, you give a small bow before practically running towards your apartment.

That night, you plop onto the bed feeling giddy like a teenager. Your mind wanders to Jinki, and Jinki only, from how he visited you tonight, how his breath feels against your skin, his laugh, his silly pink hair, and - the kiss. After a glance at his hat, which you hang near your bed side, you giggle into your pillow, looking forward to seeing the man tomorrow. 

Little do you know you're not going to see him again.

+++

Days pass.

The door to your cafe stays silent at 8 o'clock. There is no sight of a tall man in oversized clothes and mask, no sight of his sakura-colored hair. Ignoring the pang in your chest, you hope he's doing okay at work.

But days turn into weeks, and you know he won't be coming back. You hear news about SHINee's comeback, how successful it is and how all the members look mesmerizing and more handsome than ever. You also hear rumors about a certain man. The news say they spotted him a few times with a female, starting from them getting coffee together, to the more recent one, a picture in which the female had her hands in the crook of his elbow, both of them were smiling, clearly head over heels towards each other. People say they look good together, an idol and a famous actress. Even the fans are supportive of their presumed relationship, saying it's about time their oppa settles down with someone good enough for them.

That day, your heart breaks into pieces.

You drown yourself in work. The auntie from your regular bakery comes over to send you a variation of new cakes, asking about the customer behind regular orders of her traditional pastries. With a strained smile, you say he’s out of town, skillfully lying to the lady, and you don’t know when he will return - this time you’re telling the truth, bitter and a hard pill to swallow. The older lady pats your back, a sad look on her face, everything takes time, my dear, she says with a very knowing gaze. You swallow down a cry, unwilling to be seen so emotionally naked in front of her or anyone else, so you tell her you'll visit her tomorrow. Eunmi knows something's wrong. You hide emotions behind your cheerful self but she recognizes a broken hearted person anywhere, especially when it's her friend. So she takes you out to a pocha - a street vendor - near the neighborhood trying to wash away your pain with eo muk tang and soju. Having quite the high tolerance, you can't even drunkenly spill your secrets to her. But loosened up from alcohol, you tell her about your expectations and how it hurts you. You're grateful for her, nonetheless.

Weeks turn into months. The cold season melts into spring, a season too famous for blossoming love and all that bullshit. You never see him again, not on the news, not in person. He becomes a figment of your memory, a shadow that never fully comes into a tangible form that you can touch, or even gaze at. You toss and turn at night, trying to forget a man who managed to capture your heart, then breaks it mercilessly. You want to punish yourself for missing him, longing to hear his warm voice, his sweet laugh, and how happy he made you feel.

+++

It’s one of your bad days.

Granted, you haven’t been in your best state for months now, but you never let it bother your daily routine. Today, however, is just not your day. You wake up with a dreadful feeling in your stomach, like you’re walking on thin ice. So you wash it down with a cup of triple espresso, letting the caffeine induce faux energy in your veins.

Now you're in the bathroom of your cafe, glaring at your reflection in the mirror. You apply more lip tint and you discover it does improve your appearance, now you're less pale, much to your relief.

"With all due respect, (Y/n), you look like shit" was what Eunmi said to you before she left for her job. Grumbling, you give in and finally fix your appearance in the bathroom. Deeming yourself presentable - in fact, you look good, your hair's on point, you note with a grin - you leave the bathroom.

You see a figure standing in the middle of your cafe.

And he is awfully familiar.

Unbidden, a wave of anger hits you. Clenching your fist, you eye the man has been haunting your mind almost every single night. A shadow that somehow has taken his form, now.

"(Y/n)," he stammers. His voice is like a wake-up call, reviving a ghastly affection that you pushed down in your heart. You always like hearing your name on his tongue, luscious and teasing, but it never sounds this bleak.

Jinki looks different, the most apparent change is his hair, which is now dark brown, reminiscent of the first time you meet him. When was that again? Half a year ago? His fringe is slightly longer, a bit wavy and it fits him so well. Begrudgingly you admit his beauty did not fade, he's still as handsome as ever, if not more, and his cheekbones are more prominent, giving him a sharper appearance.

It's clear as day that he's somber, and the fact incites more anger on your part. Inhaling through your nose, you stomp back to your place behind the counter. From the corner of your eye you see his gaze following your movement.

"What would you like to order?" You ask, because even though you're heartbroken, you're a professional.

"I need to talk to you," he says. Of course he does. Nevertheless, you put on a charming smile before his guilt-stricken face.

"Your order, please."

He leans forward. "I'm sorry - " And that's the wrong answer, not when your day is already bad as it is, not when you feel so awful from the moment you wake up in your bed. Especially not after so many questions and non-existent answers on his behalf.

"If you're not buying anything, I'm gonna have to ask you to leave," you say through gritted teeth, your customer service mask slipping off.

After an excruciating silence, he ducks his head, biting his lips, like he needs to stop himself from speaking any further. Then slowly, he walks towards the door. At that point, you should feel triumphant. But the pang in your heart says otherwise as you see his hunched back, filled with disappointment. Before leaving, he turns one more time, looking at you in the eye with a gaze that squeezes your heart painfully.

"I'll come back to visit again."

You watch the empty store, breathing harshly. There's a storm of emotions going inside you, and nothing you do afterwards helps you calm down. You've never been this shaken before, not even when you first heard of Jinki dating on the news. That day, you thought of course, of course he would date the actress. Not someone he randomly kissed after a particularly rough day. Idols are unreachable for a reason. But his reappearance opens a Pandora's box, releasing the feelings you locked in so many months ago.

To make it worse, this time Jinki is not lying. Because the next morning, he's back, he's wearing a black turtleneck shirt paired with slacks and covered by a dark brown coat, looking dashing all while smiling hospitably as he orders a huge americano and a dozen pastries for dine-in. He sits in his usual corner, fiddling with his phone all the while throwing glances at you. It's easy to ignore him with the presence of other customers, but when it's only two of you, it's a whole different kind of challenge.

Surprisingly, the man doesn't attempt to talk to you, at all. Jinki just sits there, waiting. He nibbles on one snack to the other, and continues to wait. You can hear him receiving calls silently, trying to hush his voice, but you hear words like "I'm not coming" and "I'm sorry, but I already told you yesterday” which start to melt the ice that’s settling within you.

The sun is setting when you decide you can't stand it anymore. He's been eating nothing but pastries, he had ordered another glass of coffee and he. Just. Won't. Leave. Checking the time, it's been 9 hours, and you’ve waited long enough, way too long, to get the answers you’ve been asking for.

With dread clawing inside your stomach, you stand up and walk to his table. Jinki notices your presence and immediately perks up. You despise the glimmer of hope in those familiar brown eyes.

"Why are you here?" The tremble in your voice is evident, and you inwardly curse. Jinki, however, looks determined and stares back with a steely gaze.

"I want to talk to you," he states evenly.

"Right now? The store is still open."

The air on his face changes abruptly, and you almost step back, feeling his anger. After throwing you an unexpected sneer, he speed-walks to the door, grabbing your wooden sign and flipping it over from ‘open’ to ‘close’. You stammer a protest, but he's already in front you, looming over with his taller body.

"It's closed." Motivated by desperation, you know he will do anything to get what he wants. But internally you shake off the tingles of warmth you feel when seeing him this assertive. "Can we please talk now?"

You chew the insides of your cheek, biting off your frustration, because you know he got you cornered. With a sigh, you nod. You've listened to many people, many stories ranging from sorrow to joy, and you listen well, quiet and composed. Now, you're anything but. You can't bring yourself to look him in the eye, uncomfortable with the increasing tension in the air. He remains silent, and you feel more uneasy. When he finally speaks, you should’ve seen it coming.

"I'm sorry." You feel each word stabbing your chest. "I'm sorry for not coming back, I have my reasons so please let me explain first."

You inhale sharply. "You have a girlfriend."

"No, I - "

"You have a girlfriend. Why did you even kiss me?"

Hurt flashes on his face. "She's not my girlfriend. And I kissed you because I wanted to."

Anger rises in your veins.

"Everybody says it. It's all over the news." You hold the urge to sneer, to laugh at his attempt to lie. Jinki’s mouth opens and closes a few times, his hand flailing helplessly. Then, he holds a hand up.

"Give me a minute," he insists before opening up his phone. You're close to berating him for lack of manners but he suddenly holds the phone to you. You look up at him quizzically. He only nods, somber and knowing, so you take it.

You gasp, your stomach churns with dread.

On his phone screen is a picture of the two of you, clearly taken by someone who's not supposed to see it. It was from that night before he stopped visiting, and it has you and him on the main street, right before you enter his car. Your face is hidden by the cap he lent, but he is ushering you into the car with a hand on your lower back. Unlike your features, Jinki's are crystal clear. He’s not wearing anything to cover his face, and his pink hair is bright in the dark. From the proximity, it's obvious what it looks like.

"T-this is - "

"Paparazzi. We managed to prevent the worst case with the help of media insiders, but we still needed to do preventive measures.” At that moment, SHINee was about to start promoting a comeback, if it went wrong, it'd ruin everything. “So, one of my agents suggested I fake-dated another celebrity to cover it up."

Your eyes widen. He stops, and stares at you knowingly.

"I was under heavy scrutinization. The media had their eyes on each and every movement I made. They followed me everywhere." He ducks his head, chuckling with an uncharacteristic self pity in his voice.

"I couldn't visit you. It was too risky. So I waited, and played along with the plan. Thankfully, announcing the relationship was not necessary. The pictures and interactions were enough. In the end, all we had to do was deny the rumors, saying we're just friends who helped each other in her acting gigs. Furthermore, I don't think they managed to publish the original picture. If they did… Let's just say I wouldn't be here."

Silence stretches between the two of you. Your mind is still processing all the things he’d said, but you can feel the blooming hope within your heart, trying to tell you to listen and to give him a chance. 

Jinki inhales, chest expanding before letting out of his frustrations through a harsh exhale. Then, he moves forward, taking your hand with his hesitant ones, testing the waters. Staying still, you watch with anticipation and thundering heart as he pulls your hands up.

“I miss you. I miss this place. Being around you makes my worries disappear, as if the only thing that matters is the time we spend together. I've always enjoyed your company since I first visited this place by chance but…” he takes a deep breath, eyes boring straight into yours.

“I didn’t expect to fall for you." 

Your breath hitches, and he moves closer. Just an inch closer, testing the waters.

"Please, give me a chance. I didn’t mean to stop seeing you. To stop visiting for months, not being able to see your smile… It was a torture.”

With shallow breaths, the aftermath of your shock, you find yourself unable to say anything. Your head is light and dizzy - clouded with emotions after his revelation. He pulls your hand to his lips, pressing a light kiss that stills you even further. His eyes are solemn, filled with so much longing that suddenly becomes clear to you.

"Will you forgive me? Can I try again?”

Months of learning to forget and hate him melts away. There's something in your expression that makes Jinki's eyes soften. You miss that gentleness that brings so much life to the man, but most of all, you miss him. Just him. Letting instinct take over, you pull your hands away from his grasp as his face falls.

"You idiot," you murmur helplessly, moving forward only to punch his chest, albeit weakly, ignoring his protests as he stumbles back with a yelp. "I waited. I waited for you but you never came back, I thought you - you got bored of me or something."

"(Y/n), no - "

Something inside you snaps, and you let words come out like a waterfall.

"I like you a lot, Jinki. More than a lot. I-I think I'm falling for you too. I didn't know what to do when I saw the news. It made me feel so bad about myself. And you just kissed me too. Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

He scratches the back of his neck, a little embarrassed.

"W-well, I don't have your number."

Unbidden, you choke out a strangled laugh, noticing the tears that's appearing in your eyes. With trembling fingers, you grab his shirt, hiding your face away in his chest. 

"I waited for you." You repeat, voice hoarse and weak.

With a tenderness you never felt before, he holds your face and frowns, regret paints his eyes darker. 

"I'm sorry, I'm here now."

"Is it even safe for you to be here?"

"It's been months, I'm out of their radar now, my team made sure of it."

"Stupid."

"I know, I know. I am stupid, I'm sorry."

"I missed you." You finally say, and in a second warmth engulfs your body as he pulls you into his arms. The scent that is undoubtedly Jinki, oh so familiar to you, comforts you almost instantly.

"I missed you, too." He says into your hair, and you return his embrace with a hiccup. "Are you crying? I'm so sorry."

You pull back, stubbornly trying to show him you are not crying but he just laughs - bright and warm, shit, you really missed it - cupping your face so tenderly it makes your cheeks burn. But something in your face makes him frown.

“What’s on your mind, sweetheart?” Your eyes widen at the nickname and his face falls. "Um, is it okay if I call you that?"

"S-sure," You reassure him, secretly melting inside.

"Good. So, what's on your mind?" He inquires with a hint of worry. You bite your lips, thinking about a question that has been lingering in your mind.

“So that night, when you kissed me… It wasn’t a mistake?”

At that, a smug smile graces his plump lips. Gosh, you even miss this side of him, the one that takes enjoyment in flustering you.

“I never regret it."

Relief floods your heart, and it leaves blossoms of hope. So you look up at him, putting on a cute expression that hopefully melts him.

“Can you do it again?”

He chuckles, not showing any protest before leaning in to capture your lips.

“Gladly.”

+++

"Are you sure it's safe?"

"I parked the car at a market two blocks away from your cafe, I think we're okay, (Y/n),” he sighs, pushing your back for you to start walking. Due to someone’s reckless action, you closed the store hours before it’s closing time, and now you even get to go home early.

You laugh. "Fine."

There's a part of Jinki that will never agree to you going home by bus, hence why he's insistent on driving you home once again. With a lighter heart, you accept.

But contrasting the previous trip, the ride home is silent. You can hear the faint sound of keys jingling against the dashboard, and the constant clack of pedals being stepped on. You turn your gaze to the driver, the sight of his side profile greeting you. He's breathtaking, you think, the mole on his chin is beyond adorable, and all of a sudden, the man turns his face. He offers you a smile before patting your thighs - as if knowing that smile makes your legs weak - and within seconds his eyes are back on the road, leaving you flustered.

Jinki parks the car across your apartment building, bringing a deja vu to the whole situation. You open the door and step a foot outside, thinking of saying good night to Jinki there and then. But he doesn't share your thoughts, because he's already leaving the car, intending to see you to the lobby.

"Alright then," he says softly. "Good night, (Y/n)."

The insides of your stomach twists. You don’t want him to leave yet. Months passed without him in your life, and despite having brighter days ahead within the new relationship, a selfish part of you still wants to spend time with him, making up for the lost time. You don't know what pushes you forward that night, but you’re already pulling the cuff of his sleeves, fingers curling around the fabric.

Jinki turns around, confusion clear in his brown eyes. "Yes?" He's tilting his head, cute.

"Would you like to stay for dinner?" You blurt out and his eyes turn into saucers. "You haven't eaten a proper meal today. I can make something for both of us."

His surprise melts into a bright smile, his eyes crinkling with happiness. You see his ears turning red. "I'd love to."

You step into your home first, taking off your shoes and changing them to slippers. Gingerly, yet excited, you pull another pair of slippers to give to your guest. It’s a pair of white bunny slippers, with little ears as the decoration. You hope he doesn’t mind the design.

"Oh, thank you," he says, stifling a laugh at the object - rude - before ducking to follow your gesture. Then, he removes his coat, hanging it on the rack, revealing a set of broad shoulders and chest, the fabric of his low turtleneck shirt emphasizing the swell of his arms. You hang onto the sight for a little too long, and by the time you look away, Jinki already has a knowing smirk, amused at your dumbfounded expression. With a huff, you practically rush inside your home, ignoring him.

Without even looking, you know he's scanning your room. You're quite proud of it, because it may be small, but you made it as comfy as possible.  You don't have dining tables, instead you have island counters and high chairs. Gesturing Jinki to sit there, you excuse yourself to change into more comfortable clothes. As you're about to reach your room, Jinki calls your name. You turn to see him holding a familiar cap from your shelves.

"You kept it with you." He's grinning as he flails the hat, looking all giddy and adorable, and it's contagious.

"Of course, you told me to."

"That I did. But I didn't expect you to hold it after what happened."

He's not wrong. Many times you wanted to throw it away, since it's the only item you have that's left of him, the only string left of the frail connection you had with Jinki. But you couldn't, despite the bittersweet feeling that came from seeing the hat, sometimes you found comfort from it. 

As if sensing the deflated mood, he pushes the hat on your head playfully, pulling a laugh from you which halts when the back of his hand caresses your cheek, his eyes assessing you with intrigue. The same hand ends up on your shoulder, giving a light push.

"Go on, aren't you going to change?"

You scowl half-heartedly, trying to ignore the subtle suggestive tone in his voice.

Quickly, you go into your room to store the hat away and change into your usual attire at home, lounge shorts and a large t-shirt. You stride to the kitchen area and take a second to drink in the sight of Jinki in your kitchen. It’s real. The scene is so domestic you can feel butterflies fluttering in your stomach. 

"Does soybean soup sound good to you?" You ask, now standing in front of the island counter. You laugh internally realizing how similar this is to your usual dynamic at the café. "I have some pork dumplings too.”

Jinki blinks, then he looks at you from your head to toe with half hazed eyes. The way he’s drinking in your form triggers the heat pooling in your belly, especially when he stares at your thighs for a moment too long, and you can't help but squirm under his gaze. It's a truce, you suppose, for you've ogled at him as well. 

"That sounds lovely." His voice is quiet, eyes hazy like he wasn’t paying attention to the conversation. "Can I do anything to help?"

Bless this man. "Then, can you chop the vegetables?"

"Sure." He gets up and walks to your side, already eyeing a cutting board that’s hanging near the sink. Meanwhile, you’re rummaging through the freezer, acquiring a bag of frozen pork and leek dumplings, trying to distract yourself from the fact that you're cooking together and it's so domestic, fuck - you move to the shelves, intending to get the soybean paste container up there. It's not that high, you swear, but you do need to tiptoe.

Then unexpectedly, a hand goes past yours to grab the container. Familiar scent tickles your nose and warmth seeps through your back, with that you know Jinki’s standing behind you.

Sheepish, you turn to thank him but stop when you realize how close he is. He's looking at you with hooded eyes, intense and filled with emotions you're familiar with, because perhaps, you're mirroring it. A rustling sound catches your attention, and you notice Jinki putting the container down to the counter. You can feel the top surface of the same counter digging into your hips, and belatedly you catch up with your situation, it almost feels like you're cornered.

Jinki puts his hand on the counter by the side of your torso. With the rolled sleeves, the muscle of his arms draws your attention once more, his bicep tensing as the hand presses on the surface. Now you're cornered by his strong arm, and he moves the other to your hair, fingers tickling your temples, dragging them slowly to move your fringe out of the way.

"Are you okay?" Asks Jinki, almost rhetorically, voice lower than you've ever heard in all the time you've known him. He smells like wood and a hint of something floral, and you start to feel intoxicated from it. He's moving closer, at first you can only hear his breath, but within seconds you can feel each puff of air on your skin.

You take note of your heartbeat that runs a mile, the way you breathe in shallow intakes, and the wild butterflies in your stomach. You notice how desperately you want him to touch you, kiss you, it's inappropriate. Then, the answer should be no, you're far from okay.

Instead, you gulp. "Yes," you rasp the answer and the corner of Jinki's mouth quirks up, devilish yet sweet.

"Good."

And then he's on you. His lips descend on yours, urgent and feverish, and you melt against him immediately. You know this is not the first time you kiss, but it wasn’t like this before, that one was short and sweet, you didn't think it could be this hot and intoxicating.

His hand cups your cheek, tilting your head to mold your mouth better, the gesture makes you weak and you let him guide you to his will, and by the time he succeeds, you're already gripping his shoulder for balance and support.

Jinki opens his mouth, pulling your lower lip in between his teeth, grazing and teasing it until you accidentally let out a whimper that causes him to inhale sharply. The noise fuels your need to be closer to him, so you kiss him back harder, trying to take any sort of control. But Jinki's not having it,  he puts his hand on your lower back, gripping them tight enough to make you gasp. He uses the opportunity to sneak his tongue past your swollen lips.

Overwhelmed by him, you push your own appendage against his, meeting it shyly. He groans, voice rumbling low like never before and it goes straight into your core. Your lips dance together in a sensual rhythm as the temperature between you seems to increase. Eventually, you grow more breathless, and pull back. He follows suit, detaching your mouth but keeping you close to him. Like tunnel vision, you can only focus on the man who has you in his arms.

Jinki touches your forehead with his, which feels really warm. His whole body radiates heat, like a furnace, and you want the warmth to engulf you more. Pulling back, he cups your face tenderly, calloused thumb rubbing your cheek carefully, as if too much pressure will break you into pieces. You won’t break, but the weight of his gaze does cause you to squirm. Feeling self conscious, you bring a hand up to your face, attempting to hide your disheveled self only to have Jinki tut at the action.

"You always do that." With his large hands, he pries your smaller ones away, showing your flushed face for his delight. He smiles in awe, and you can’t look away.

"You're so beautiful." He whispers.

Elated by the compliment, you mirror his smile before pressing a chaste kiss to his full lips. The harmless peck turns into another heated kiss in no time, with you pressing yourself against him and him parting his irresistible mouth to welcome yours excitedly. Abruptly, he retreats again, chuckling nervously as he puts his hands on your shoulders.

"I’m sorry.” He sounds strained. “If we keep doing this, I won’t be able to stop.”

Again you’re reminded of how much of a gentleman Jinki is, how proper and patient he is. But you had enough. With a ridiculous amount of desperation coming from the ever-growing tension in the air between you two, you muster all of your courage. "Then don't."

With eyes as big as saucers, Jinki is about to say something when you take the chance to grab his arm and lead him to the couch in the middle of your room. You're in no rush, you know he knows what you want, and he's following your lead soundlessly. You sit down, he follows suit and you notice the way he takes no time to turn to you, cupping your face as you lean into the palm of his large hand. Despite the gentleness of his touch, you can see the storm in his eyes and how it waits to crash unto you. 

So you end his uncertainty.

"Don't stop." You whisper before leaning in, capturing his lips in a languid kiss. He reciprocates, returning the favor eagerly while his hand wanders on your exposed thighs, the skin to skin contact bringing shivers to your spine. It doesn't take long until your frenzied self shifts closer to him, ending up sitting in his lap, and his lips have left yours in order to explore the skin of your neck. He parts his mouth and starts sucking on your skin, exposed by the large t-shirt. You breathe shakily, positively quivering in his hold. Never would you know the usually calm man can turn you into a molten heat under his touch. 

Wanting to feel more of Jinki, your hand wanders from his chest to his abdomen and lower to his thighs, eliciting a hiss from him. Mesmerized by his reaction, you crave more, so you shift in his lap, moving in a way that will make your thighs brush against the hardness between his legs.

"Oh god," he moans out loud, voice gravelly but still melodic to your ears, it brings a proud grin to your face, provoking his eyes to turn dark. He tuts. "Don't get ahead of yourself, sweetheart."

The endearment alone sends a familiar wetness straight to your core. He smiles, knowing exactly what he does.

"May I?"

You nod, and suddenly his hand is on your inner thigh, dancing dangerously close to your center, and your breath hitches, knowing how wet you are by now. His other hand travels to your back, sneaking under your shirt to rub circles there, fingers brushing with the back of your bra repeatedly, the sensations make you whimper and the satisfaction on Jinki's face only brings more excitement in your veins. You almost let out a moan, biting your lip when you feel his finger pressing on your core through the pants.

"What was that?" He hums, putting more pressure.

"Don't tease me," you manage out, holding his upper arm with a trembling hand. Your last sliver of pride seems to fire a challenge within him, so you curse out loud when he easily pulls your pants down along with your panties, leaving you exposed. He rubs your thighs appreciatively, making you whimper.

"Jinki, please…"

The way his name sounds on your tongue right now must be so erotic, because you can feel his erection twitch in response. He hums, leaning in to ghost his lips over yours.

"What do you want, sweetheart?"

"Please touch me." Your voice comes out in a breathy whisper.

Deceptively calm, he slowly spreads your legs, putting one foot on the couch and the other dangling on his strong thigh, and drags his thick finger on your slit. That first contact alone pulls a moan out of you causing him to sigh with appreciation.

"You're so wet for me, aren't you?"

"Don't say that - "

He gives you a crooked smile. "What? It's true, you're soaked."

It's not a secret that he enjoys teasing you until you lose your composure, but this time he's driving you crazy, and you know he's reveling in it. Losing control, you gasp as you feel a touch on your clit before his finger enters you easily. You bite your lip, closing your eyes as the glorious sensation takes you by surprise, and you lean forward to hide your face in the crook of Jinki's neck. He whispers sweet words, his other hand holds you tightly as the other keeps fingering you. Then, he pulls your body away, raising your chin, his eyes meet your questioning ones. Your answer arrives when another finger pushes into your wet cavern, making you keen. "A-ah - "

"Is that okay?"

The consideration doesn't go unnoticed. You nod, and he pulls you closer for a kiss as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him as close as humanly possible. It's messy, you keep moaning into his lips, leaning back to pant as Jinki picks up speed, you have to hold a scream when he goes deeper, and crooks his fingers to a spot that rocks your body into a quivering mess.

Your control breaks when he rubs your clit with his thumb, feeling the pleasure building, and you can't stop the euphoric moans coming out of your mouth. Jinki stares at you with wonder in his eyes, appreciating your form as you gasp and pant his name so beautifully.

"Are you close?"

Feeling the intense heat coiling in your lower abdomen, you can only nod, but he persists, taking your chin rather forcefully you almost feel ashamed of how much you like it. His usually warm brown eyes are like molten lava, burning with desire and it lights you up in flame.

"No, tell me, are you close?" He demands with a harsh swipe on your clit and you arch your back in intense pleasure. You clench harder on his fingers, struggling to find words to answer him.

"Please, I'm so close - ah," You haven't finished your words when his hand increases the speed, going deep to rub your inner walls all without warning. You are in a sweet delirium, not caring of anything else at the moment. Your breaths are shallow, chest heaving up and down as your orgasm is teetering very closely.

Knowingly, Jinki looks into your eyes, hunger visible in the depths of brown. But his words are soft. 

"Cum for me, sweetheart."

With a high pitched moan, you let your climax crash into you, pussy walls clenching around his fingers that have been fucking you for a while now. You bury your face in his neck, inhaling his scent that starts to mix with sweat. It calms you, so you breathe in more, still panting from your orgasm.

"Good girl," he murmurs into your hair, peppering kisses on the crown of your head, and you respond with a strained laugh.

"Oh my god, you're insane."

He joins in, ruffling your hair playfully. Looking back up, you see him staring at you with equal parts adoration and lust and the huge hardness underneath you calls your attention.

"Hey, what's wrong?" His voice is strained yet gentle, slightly concerned with the sudden silence. You look down, and he immediately knows what you're thinking.

"(Y/n), we don't have to - "

"Jinki, I want you." You lean closer, brushing your lips against his alluringly, silencing him. "I told you not to stop. Don't you want me?"

He swallows, control slipping.

"I want you so bad." He whispers, voice strained. He's devouring you with his gaze, hands cupping your face possessively. Intending to push him to his limits, you take his hand and slowly kiss each finger, pressing light pecks on the callused skin. You start sucking on his thumb, and he curses before eagerly pushing the thick finger in your wet mouth, pressing against your tongue. He's a storm about to explode, and you know it.

"Shit, I want you all for myself," Jinki grits out. He grabs your waist roughly, making you gasp around his thumb, before he pulls it out. "I want you begging me to let you cum, like you did just now."

You moan at his words, unconsciously rolling your hips to his, which pulls a pained groan from him. At that moment, you know he can't resist you anymore.

"Do you want it, sweetheart? Are you sure?" He finally asks, and you nod, eyes determined and rightfully desperate. You're a wet mess and you want nothing but to have Jinki inside of you. No longer wanting to wait, you finally go for his ear, whispering your one and only wish for the night.

"Please fuck me, Jinki. Make me yours."

He inhales sharply. With shallow breaths, he tugs you closer, kissing you deeply before shifting you in his arms. You yelp as he picks you up easily and starts walking towards your bedroom.

"There's no way we're doing it on a couch." He winks before dropping you on the bed while your squeal fills in the room.

As if there's a switch, the laughing subsides. With one glance at the man before you, you can only focus on one thing. You rush to pull off Jinki's shirt, and you marvel at his body and all the defined muscles. Taking a little too much time ogling him, Jinki chuckles, but you can hear the slight nervousness, and goes ahead to unbuckle his belt. The action jolts you back into reality, so you help him to remove the offending fabric.

Your hands are trembling, but Jinki's too, and you find comfort from it as you fumble around, too excited to care about anything else in the world.

Growing impatient, you capture his lips again which he responds to eagerly. God, his lips are soft. Your hand goes south to palm him through his briefs, trying to stimulate him more. With a muffled moan, he asserts his strength and takes your hand before flipping your position and resuming the kiss. Trapped under his strong body, you let yours go pliant as his hands explore it greedily.

He all but rips your oversized shirt before pushing you back down on your bed. Satisfied and not being able to hold himself back anymore, he cups your breast through your bra, making you gasp, and he quickly removes it before going straight to tweak a pebbled nipple. Sighing in pleasure, you move your hips upwards, needing some friction. Jinki notices it and smirks.

"Impatient, aren't we?"

Perhaps you should feel more ashamed for your wanton, but there's no remorse, only a painful need for the man before you. Who you’ve waited for so long.

You let out a whine. "Please?"

"Please what?"

"I want you inside me - oh!"

Without a warning, Jinki pushes in two fingers into your heat, the earlier wetness and your own release help in slicking his fingers.

"Like this, sweetheart?" He asks, clearly teasing you, playing with your bundle of nerves, your noises encouraging him to arouse your body further.

"Jinki, please…" You all but beg, hands reaching to touch his body, down to his cock, still in the briefs, trying to send an obvious message to your lover.

With a smile, he pulls out his fingers. Like the patient person he is, he takes his time to take off his briefs, finally freeing his hard cock. You can't help but feel intimidated by his size. Deceptively slow, he strokes himself while peering down at you, enjoying the fucked out look in your eyes and leaving you almost drooling at the sight he provides.

"God, I want you so bad," he grunts. "You don't know how long I've wanted this."

"It wouldn't take too long if you hadn't left," you whine instantly, making him pout.

"I'm going to make it up to you, okay, sweetheart?" He leans in, peppering kisses on your cheeks while slowly pulling your legs open. “We have all the time now.” You marvel at his gaze, loving and all heat at the same time. After wetting his cock with all your essence, he finally starts pushing in, tensing your whole body.

"Relax," he says, caressing your thighs softly and you nod, letting him push himself inch by inch. God, he's huge and he's stretching you so well.

"More," you whimper and he knows you're growing impatient as well, in one swift motion, he pushes all the way in and makes you moan in pleasure. You can feel his girth around your walls, and you clench unconsciously.

"Shit (Y/n), don't do that." He pulls back while chuckling, the tip of his cock almost leaving your core. "Let me make you feel good first."

You nod weakly, about to say something, anything but get cut off when he pushes in again, this time deeper.

"Jinki," you moan as he replies with a quiet "Okay?" To which you nod.

And he does. He slides in again, and again, and you can't even form words to save your life. His cock feels amazing, fucking you like there's no tomorrow. You pull him closer by the neck, kissing him hard and sloppy. Taking advantage of your muffled mouth, Jinki wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you up slightly and making your legs wrap around him before he starts pounding into you relentlessly. He swallows your euphoric screams, only pulling away to enjoy your expression, basking in pleasure.

As soon as his cock hits your pleasurable spot, you gasp out and clench hard, earning a guttural moan from him. "Jinki, I'm - "

"You're close, aren't you sweetheart? Are you going to cum for me again?"

"Yes! Please - oh my god," you ramble before your words turn into a high pitched moan as you feel Jinki's fingers playing with your clit. You're so close, the second orgasm already creeping up to you, more intense than the first. 

"You were so beautiful when you cum earlier, will you show it to me again?" He offers a sweet smile, contrasting the way he's pounding into your pussy and you only whimper in answer. He pinches your engorged bundle of nerves, expression turning dark.

"Answer me, can you, sweetheart?"

"Yes!" You gasp out, the stimulation jolts fire within you. "Yes, only for you Jinki."

With a particularly harsh thrust, you choke a gasp before a wave of pleasure hits you. You can feel yourself clenching uncontrollably, legs shaking as Jinki pulls you closer, pressing a kiss on your temple.

"Good girl, my good girl," he rambles, chasing his own high desperately. Dropping his head into the crook of your neck, he gives one last push before groaning in release, spilling his essence inside you. You sigh with content, running your fingers in his soft brown locks. After a moment, he leaves your neck, craning his head up before smiling broadly, the post-coital glow so apparent on his face. You grin, pressing a kiss on his nose, which makes him laugh.

"Hang on," he murmurs, pulling out of you before plopping down on your side. "Hi."

"Hi," you respond, moving to his arms, grinning and giddy from your own high. He wraps his arms around you, pressing his cheeks into the skin of your neck.

"Still up to cook?" He asks, and you realize all the cooking supplies you've prepared in the kitchen. You get up, but he stops you. "Let's just order a takeout. I'll help you clean out the kitchen."

You sigh. "Fine."

"You can cook breakfast tomorrow."

You blink owlishly, which gets a sheepish smile in return.

"Can I stay over?"

A large smile blossoms on your face. "Of course."

“Give me a second then.” He begrudgingly gets up, looking slightly lost for a moment before finding his phone. The sight amuses you so much you don’t realize Jinki pouting as he makes a call.

"I won't be coming back tonight," Jinki says to the phone before a loud shouting blasts from the device. He laughs, looking behind to catch your gaze before smiling wide. "Sure, I'll introduce her later to you."

"Wha - Taemin?" A scoff. "You two have fun, then."

Finishing the call, he crawls back to your embrace in the bed, making you giggle. Jinki hums with contentment before nudging you back, wishing to see your face. You don't know what he sees, but his smile turns softer, and he really looks like the sun.

"You're insane." he half-whispers, and you laugh, boisterous and too giddy. You decide to tease him.

"But you haven't seen nothing yet."

His lips quirk into a devious grin. "Is that a challenge?"

You only smirk in reply, which encourages Jinki to lean up and try to kiss you, but something comes to your mind so you push yourself off him.

"Wait here, we need to clean up." Ignoring his disappointed look, you stand up and start to walk away. Suddenly, you hear a loud rumbling noise. When you see Jinki, he already has a hand on his stomach with only a mild surprise, like he knows it will happen sooner or later. You huff.

"And you need to eat."

He laughs, following suit only to wrap his hands around your waist, seemingly unable to detach himself from you for too long. You grumble, attempting to wrestle away from him. But he's stronger, and holds you so you're looking at him. With a voice as warm and sweet as his favorite drink, he murmurs.

"Just one more kiss, sweetheart, then dinner."

The nickname works like a charm. Albeit having disbelief in his self-control - and yours too, to be frank - you give in, relaxing your body and accepting his lips on yours again, thankful that he returns, excited for the days you'll spend together with him in your life.

#onew #shinee #onew x reader #onew x you #onew smut #onew scenarios #shinee scenarios #shinee smut #jinki x reader #jinki x you #jinki smut #jinki scenarios #kpop smut #jinki fluff

[xbunnybunz]

that shore, you're sure. [Mizu/Reader]

Summary: You opened your eyes, saw his blue ones. Closed yours again, opened them, and drowned. 

Genres: Romance, Angst, Historical

You remember what it felt like to wither at sea, it felt like a dream, a long and winding dream.

You opened your eyes, saw his blue ones. Closed yours again, opened them, and drowned. 

The tide was gentle, but the waves were never as small as they seem. 

No one on the coast could have saved you, not the urchin divers, the sailors, nor you, or you, or your past self, learning the waters with your heart ripe in upturned palms.

When seawater weighed in your belly, you did not think of death. You only bore the thought of oneness with the shore. The hush of lapping foam along the sea-torn sands. Peace. Hiss. Shh. 

His hands ghost up your arms, barely skimming skin. An onryō. He is your poltergeist in the flesh.

You tremble and he watches with still eyes, steady hands.

“You are afraid.” He speaks. 

A rolling tenor in his voice, gentle and almost familiar. Where have you heard this before? 

Hiss. Shh.

“I always am.”

Your hometown was by the water before you were sold. There were white gulls, crates for trade, new boats ready for voyage, old boats ready to sink with the next storm. There, you learned the beauties of the world.

Here, you learned of its bitterness. 

How the world leaves you more and more splintered every time you dive back into the water. How it devours you, tosses you, spits you up again, sodden, gagging and gasping air. You are a shipwreck that will always be less a boat and more a remnant of the sea. 

How do you love the oceans that know only to swallow you whole?

He traces a single finger across your shoulder. The sleeve of his yukata shudders and collapses, and you see, today, he is not wearing the gauntlets. It drapes down his arm in folds, revealing the pure and toned flesh underneath. 

He rests the rough pad of his thumb on your exposed collarbone. 

Keeps it there. Watches you.

How do you love?

You’ve spent moons laying with faceless men, body plated and devoured time and time again.

But he never strips, only ever discards that heavy cape, shrouded in a thin layer of powdery snow. He has a beautiful face. One you couldn’t forget if you tried.

Strong brows, high cheekbones, a sloping forehead. 

A demon, the other hostesses call him. They turn their backs to him and unlike other frequentors, he lets them. 

They say the sky gives the ocean its color. But what makes a man a monster, the blood he has spilled, or his own? 

Even behind amber-tinted lenses, there is no mistaking the hue. 

The honey colour of his glasses fused with the blue of his eyes to make a strange, damp color. He never removes his hat even when he is in the private room with you, alone. Always just observes from under the shadow, gaze heavy. Hiding, hiding. As if he is afraid of being discovered.

“Don’t be.” He replies.

What makes a man, a man? The bodies he has claimed, or his own?

You’ve seen the litheness of his form under the cloak. The sinewy stretch of neck and elegance of battle-calloused hands, so formed to the shape of a blade’s hilt you almost missed it the first time.

You can feel your pulse on his fingers, ba dum, ba dum. It is racing. This broken body cannot tell from lovesickness to seasickness. Drowning and swimming. 

Samurai must keep secrets. That’s what other men you have lain with before have said. In this way, names have slipped through your fingers like sands through a sieve. Purposes, lives. You bore yourself to them and received nothing in return, and you are used to it, cannot find it in yourself to be heartbroken. 

Still, now, something aches. 

You remember what it felt like to wither at sea.

He holds your heart in his hands like a ripe peach, though light-handed as he is, muscle memory or affection or fear or love will teach you to split yourself apart for him, but he does not seek to ruin, does not seek even self-destruction. He will turn his gaze away when you lower your kimono past your shoulders.

How then, do you love? 

You imagine the ways his body may become nicked with new scars while he is out in battle, how always, he comes back merely to behold you with his eyes, in the flesh, as he bleeds out, panting heavy, fading in and out of consciousness, but eyes blue and thrilling and always always always so fierce. 

You think of him even when he is gone. 

How his face never betrays his thoughts, how because of this, you must watch his body. A muscle jumping under the snowy skin of his rippling forearm. Throat tightening and releasing with a swallow.

How do you swim in oceans that have only wanted you asphyxiated?  

You think of the spit in his mouth, thick and viscous, imagine it in your mouth instead. That is how you always begin.

In your room alone, when you finish, you cry. 

You are the sea and the shipwrecked all at once. He can leave you sputtering on the shore for more, that you know. But he doesn’t. He is gentle, he is unlike other men, unlike even the corrupted you who knows love as only a worldly pleasure, yet still, he haunts without laying a hand on your body, this beloved and horrid onryō man. 

His finger on your pulse. 

Gossamer. 

It devours you whole, a fire. A touch no mere man could give. 

He never goes further than this. Self-control no mere man could have.

When you sleep, you often have dreams and nightmares woven into the same ball of unraveling twine, spinning and spinning and spinning a memory of seafoam frothing between your toes, then swallowing kicking in the dark, swallowing salt water by mouthfuls. 

Last night, you slept and envisioned a desiccation. 

You do not know what you can do with this ship of a body without the ocean to toss it, turn it into castoffs.

It is what you were made for.

What makes a man a liar? What is said, or what is left unsaid?

“I could never love a man again.” You confess.

He does not respond.

You remember what it feels like to wither at sea. 

He watches you silently from behind his tinted spectacles, from under the shade of his hat. He is good at hiding. Eyes azure as the ocean blue, broken and as familiar as flotsam. But he is an abominable reflection of yourself in fractals, that, neither of you can avoid.

His gaze does not falter. Does not falter. 

He drops his hand from your pulse and somehow, it thrums on painfully without him there to caress it. He looks away and the tide crashes at your feet. You are back on the shoreline, alone and ready to be wreckage.

You understand.

You remember what it felt like to wither at sea. 

It felt like opening your eyes, seeing her blue ones for the first time. Closing yours again, opening them, and swimming.

#reader insert #mizu blue eye samurai #mizu x reader #mizu x you #blue eye samurai

[tennessoui]

MR AND MR SITH I LOVE IT!!!😭😭😭

I’m just picturing them doing the Angelina and Brad pose and it’s sending me

ok i was thinking about this au this morning so here is 1.1k of a writing warm up set in the mr and mr sith au where the jedi have captured master skywalker to take him home (they think he's been held hostage this entire time), but they accidentally pick up sith obi-wan instead and no one is prepared........

(1.1k)

Ena frowns down at Jedi Master Anakin Skywalker, a bad feeling sprouting in her chest. This all feels wrong, but it isn’t. She knows it isn’t.

“He really fought back?” she asks Mal as soon as he enters the room. “But you told him we were Jedi, right? That we came to rescue him? That he was safe?”

Mal puts his hand on her shoulder. The touch is supposed to be comforting, but Ena isn’t sure how much she wants comfort right now. “I did,” he swears. “But he’s been held captive by the Sith for so long, Ena, who knows what they’ve done to his mind?” “He doesn’t…he doesn’t look tortured,” Ena says, looking over Master Skywalker’s bound figure. They’d had to physically tie him down with rope and chain once they’d subdued him, apparently. Apart from the livid bruise along his cheekbone, he appears uninjured. His hair—auburn and rather short—falls messily over his face.

“You and I both know that sometimes the deepest scars are ones we cannot see,” Mal tells her, squeezing her shoulder once.

“And the child?” Ena asks. “Has the med droid finished looking him over?” “Healthy,” Senaka reports as she comes into the room, montrals twitching at the change of Force, a heaviness in the air that they know comes from their captive even though they’re not sure why. “Five standard years of age, I believe, with a ridiculously high midichlorian count. He’ll be waking up within the hour, I’m sure.”

“Master Skywalker has clearly bonded with the boy,” Mal reports, hand rising to tug at a padawan braid that’s no longer there. “It was only when we separated them that he stopped fighting us. He didn’t even notice Senaka had a force collar until it was already on his neck.”

Ena feels a headache brewing behind her eyes. She knows what they’ve done is the right thing.

It doesn’t feel right though.

To tie a venerated, traumatized man to a chair, to win a fight against him by subduing a child…but they had had no other option. 

After six years of no information, the Jedi Council had finally caught a whisper about Jedi Master Anakin Skywalker’s location. Four Jedi Knights had been dispatched to follow this rumor to its bitter end, to track down Master Skywalker, rescue him from the clutches of the Sith who stole him away so long ago, and bring him home.

Their informant had confirmed that a man with yellow eyes was often seen on the same planet, in the same city. So they’d had to move fast.

And when Master Skywalker had not been receptive…when he’d killed Knight Avas…Ena knows they’d been forced into making a decision that felt wrong but must be right.

Mal squeezes her shoulder once, opening his mouth to say something. Before he can, Master Skywalker shifts slightly in his chair before he freezes completely. Awake.

His eyes flash open a second later, pale blue glowering right into Ena’s soul. “Where is he?” he spits, words spoken in an unexpectedly Coruscanti accent. “What have you done with him?”

“Master Skywalker,” Ena says, holding out a hand to try and soothe the fury thrashing in the man’s eyes. He snarls the moment she comes too close. “The boy is fine. I swear it, you know the Jedi would never hurt a child. We won’t hurt you either. It’s over. You’re safe.”

Master Skywalker rears back as much as he can in his current position. “I want to see him,” he commands. “Bring him to me.”

“We can’t do that,” Senaka shakes her head slowly. “You’re…volatile, Master. You could hurt him.”

“You will let me see my child,” Master Skywalker snaps, voice seeping with danger. “I—”

It is the patter of little feet that interrupts him now, and the three Jedi turn around immediately. Not before there’s a blur of movement from the door and the boy careens between their legs, running to throw himself onto Master Skywalker’s lap.

Though the man’s arms are bound tightly behind him, Ena can see the way he automatically tries to hold the boy, shoulders jerking forward before he sinks back with a snarl of frustration.

“Papa!” the boy is saying over and over again, rubbing over the Jedi Master like an affectionate tooka cat. “I can’t feel you! Papa, why are you gone?”

“I’m here, Luke, it’s alright. We’re alright,” Master Skywalker murmurs, voice becoming impossibly softer as he leans far enough down so that he can tap their foreheads together.

“Master Skywalker, we mean you no harm,” Ena tries to say, taking another step forward. Senaka is right. Master Skywalker killed a Jedi only a few hours ago. He’s unstable. He’s dangerous. 

“I don’t know who that is,” the man snaps as the child—his child?—hides his face in his neck. “Release me at once. I have no ties to the Jedi Order.”

“What?” Mal looks shocked then shaken. Ena understands. None of them ever knew Master Skywalker, but everyone in the Temple had heard of him. He was legendary. A perfect Jedi. To hear that he doesn’t even recognize his name…it shakes Ena to her core. “No—you—you are Master Skywalker. Do you—Anakin. That’s your name. Anakin Skywalker. You’ve been missing for six years. You were kidnapped by the Sith on an undercover mission to Nyrel. We never stopped looking for you.”

The man in front of them freezes again, face expressionless as the seconds tick on. Slowly, a red eyebrow arches its way up his forehead. “Oh,” he says like he’s suddenly realized a great mystery of the universe. “Oh, I see.”

The child on his lap tugs at the front of his robes before deciding to tug at the bristles of his beard instead. “Papa,” Luke says in that way children do when they are demanding attention. “I can feel Daddy though. He’s not feeling good.”

Skywalker’s nostrils flare at this, and he cuts his eyes from the far wall down to the boy and then up to Ena. “Did you hurt him?” he demands, voice like ice. “When you captured me. Did you hurt him?”

“The boy? No—you can see, he’s fine—”

“A man,” Skywalker shakes his head. “Golden hair. Blue eyes. Tall.”

“No, papa,” Luke tugs at Skywalker’s beard again. “No. He’s okay. But he’s not feeling good things.”

Skywalker’s attention is fully on his child. “What do you mean, Luke?” he asks, voice gentle and coaxing.

“Angry,” Luke says. “Daddy is angry and close.”

For some reason this makes Master Skywalker smile, lines around his eyes crinkling with the force of his joy. “That’s very good then, Luke Love. Do you know why?”

Ena feels Mal shift next to her, unease growing in the air around them as Master Skywalker turns his face up to them. “Why?” Luke asks.

“Because our friends here really want to meet your daddy,” he says. “And I think your daddy’s going to be absolutely charmed.”

#asks #mr. and mr. sith au #obikin #i imagine when anakin comes aboard he probably darth vader at the end of rogue one's the three jedi #and then carefully cradles obi-wan's face in his hand and does the who did this to you (about the bruise) #and obi-wan is like your old jedi colleagues #and anakin blanches because obi-wan knows now......cover blown #life over #etc etc #no i dont think obi-wan would then come clean about being a sith tho #the moment would have to be right

[deadricslover]

HELLO AGAIN :') was just thinking about clingy bale bruce wayne <3 i just wanna squeeze him , im literally ruined over a fictional man 😫 it's a pretty general idea, so take this in any direction you want, it'll be perfect either way :D

the best type of clingy

Here's my Masterlist!

a/n: this is so long omg. Bruce being clingy. AGH OMG. I'm melting inside. not my gif! but it's me and our kids he's looking at so....

summary: just some situations where Bruce is at his cutest, being clingy and adorable

warnings: very very long but really none just pure fluff and cuteness.

pairings: bale! Bruce Wayne X gn!reader

italics: flashbacks/examples

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

Bruce's love language is touch. no doubt about it. You experience it when you are with him and when you're not. not that you're complaining, he makes you feel accepted and loved and you appreciate that more than he will ever know. his love for you translates into different forms and words. he says 'I love you', of course but if he ever says anything like 'be safe' or 'you can have the last slice'. he's saying I love you but in his own language. But overall of these, Bruce is clingy. Not in an annoying little kid clinging to your leg like a koala bear on a tree clingy but an adorable, loving type of clingy. He always must be touching you in some way, even if that is just letting your elbows touch when sitting down. Another thing he does is little mini speeches for you, at the most random moment he would start declaring his love for you again and again. They were your personal favourite, the creativity he shows in the way he words and phrases his sentences are so complex. he says he comes up with them on the spot based on what he feels --but he could have them planned out since you met eachother, who knows for sure--.

for example

you and Bruce were in the kitchen one night preparing dinner for the two of you plus Alfred whilst it was coming down heavy outside the window. It was picture perfect really, the conversation being thrown back and forth between passionate voices fitting perfectly together, while making homemade fresh pasta, flour spluttering all over yours and his clothes, hair and face. Smiles being lit up by the dim light illuminating the room showing off his high cheekbones and muscles which makes him look more god like then usual. As you were kneeding the dough you feel a pair of toned arms wrap around your waist from behind and a chin rest on the top of your head.

"hey" you say lowly

"hi " he replies.

"what are you doing?" you ask and he can hear the smile on your face in the way you talk.

"just admiring you" he answers honestly.

"you seem to do that a lot" you reply your voice wobbly from the smile plastered on your face and the giggle threatening to spill. You drop the dough and spin around to face him to see his eyes positioned right where yours are straight away.

"how could I not? I love you so much. I love all of you. when you're dying with a sickness, when you're bursting with excitement, when you're worried about something - big or small-. I love everything about you. More than you know. But, I don't just love you, I love being in love with you. You're so perfect and I adore the butterflies I experience when you text or when you come home. I love catching myself smiling at your text, when you answer the phone and even when you laugh before you tell your joke. that's my personal favourite. It reminds me that I'm with you. And that's the best cure to my lovesickness." he rambles on. you could cry. he's so sweet and so passionate and enthusiastic about declaring his love over and over again.

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

another thing clingy Brice likes to do is calls and texts random times during the day. When he's at work and he's feeling homesick, he'd call. just to hear your voice. And to make sure you're ok of course.

Sometimes when he's leaving in the morning. He wouldn't let go of you at all, begging for five more minutes. As appealing as that sounded you couldn't give in as five minutes would turn into an hour turning into you missing work. You learned that the hard way. Instead of staying with him and missing work and also instead of him not seeing you for the whole day, he would call you while you're in work. twice a day, the exact same time not even a minute variation. On the rare occasion he would call a third time at a random point if he discovered exciting news.

your alarm rudely woke you up from your comfortable slumber, the sound reverberating against each wall reaching your ears in the process. The sound everyone dreads waking up to, an alarm. It reminded you that you had to leave the warmth of your bed and go to work at this ever so early hour. You give your eyes a rub and stretch with the little room you had as Bruce was attached to your side. You hated that you would have to leave him, but it had to happen. You try and unwrap his arm from you but this makes him cling harder.

"Bruce, I have to go" you inform him in a low voice.

In response he just lets out a disapproving grunt and burries his head into you even more.

"I'm sorry, bub, but I have to go to work"

this makes him pull the card that he does every morning. It's near impossible to deny it and get up and get ready.

"five more minutes" he whispers with sleep laced in his voice after he lets out a little whine in disapproval.

"go back to sleep" you try and convince him. He Huff's and stays in his position for a while more before rolling onto his back and squeezing his eyes shut while stretching his muscles.

"I'll call you at-" you interrupt him knowing what his next words will be

"12:30. I know, Bruce it's the same everyday" you giggle lightly before kissing him quickly on his forehead and reluctantly moving away to get ready.

Bruce did just that too. what he does everyday. he called at 12:30. you were doing paper work when you heard the phone call. it saved you from possibly going insane. The other side of the line wasnt ringing too long before a perky voice interrupted the beeping.

"hey, Bruce" you say smiling

"well hello, sunshine" he replies.

"so what's the chat about today?" you inquire pushing the pile of paper away.

"anything. I miss your voice. how's work?" he's too cute. you blush in your office alone thankful that nobody would see you.

"hectic. but I'm getting through it" you huff out tired from the day already

"you always do. you're strong" he compliments.

"thanks, Bruce. honestly, you're oh so motivational words help me through the day."

"do they? I guess I'll have to give them more often." he replies that signature smile in his voice.

"I don't know if you can give any more"

"trust me. I'll find a way. keep talking, have you taken your break yet?" he quizzes

"no, not yet. I haven't gotten the chance to" you reply honestly

"you should do that. and make sure to eat, ok?" wow, he sounds like a mom. but it's perfect.

"yeah, I will. thanks for caring. What about you anything special being king of Gotham today?"

he Huffs sarcastically "no. it's so boring today. I had a meeting this morning and I took a nap during it."

"of course you did... look, I love talking with you but I have to finish this pile before midnight next year so I'm gonna go." you tell him reluctantly

"yeah, do that. I want to see you as soon as possible." he replies

"I do too. I'll see you later. I love you"

"I love, you more." he replies before you end the call.

hours go by of filling in paper, highlighting points, dealing with hard clients and so much more. You finally walk back into your office and slump down on the chair hoping for a minute of peace. But that you didn't get. the phone rings again just like it did 17 times already that day. You pick It up after a few rings filled with moments of contemplation on wheather you should answer it or not.

"hello, this is-" you go to say but get cut off by the other person

"y/n, it's me. You'll never guess what happened." he sounds hectic on the other side of the line. you were secretly so over the moon to hear his voice.

"I don't wanna guess. just tell me" you say sounding tired even through the phone.

Bruce seems to calm down from whatever high he has and tells you the news in more of a calmed tone to fit your sleepy mood change from a couple hours ago.

"well, I just found out that we're doing a Collaboration with a big company" he says into the speaker in a hushed tone excitement seeping it's way through.

"no way. that's amazing, congratulations!" you reply excitement starting to wake you up. you were always the first person he told about everything it's adorable and made you feel special.

"and you'll never guess who's company it is" he states suggestively. it immediately clicks that it's your company, why you weren't informed of this you had no idea but that didn't matter right now. you were excited to spend more time with him in the workplace and during the day.

"why wasn't I informed of this?" you inquire showing you understood

"I don't know. you will be though, just act surprised when it happens okay?" he informs

"yeah I will" this was gonna be fun.

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

if you want a part two I can make it happen! I have so many more ideas but the post was long enough 🙊

#batman begins #bruce wayne fluff #the dark knight #the dark knigth rises #christian bale x reader #dc #batman #bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #christian bale #deadricslover #Christian bale x reader

[kiatheinsomniac]

❝ just let me look at you for a little bit. ❞ prompt with Castlevania's Alucard pls :)

notes: Look I want to write about this man being happy, I really do, he deserves it so much, but it's just so much fun to write terrified scenes like this

pairing: Adrian 'Alucard' Tepes x Reader

word count: 0.6k

warnings: injury detail, slight angst + comfort

☾ ⋆ﾟ  MASTERLIST / RULES / TAGLIST FORM

Just let me look at you for a little bit

You groaned as your vision blacked out again for a moment, breath heavy and feeling lightheaded, trying to look around the room when you could see again, hearing Alucard frantically gathering medical supplies before you saw him rifling through the cabinet, bringing everything over in a little basket he had snatched from the side and setting it on the table he had laid you out on. Your head lolled against the table as you felt him peel away your blood-soaked clothes from your side, looking down to see the large gash on either side on your ribs from where you had been grabbed by a night creature with mantis-like limbs. 

You saw his face fall and you looked down to see the various puncture wounds, perhaps as deep as a dog bite but there had been many more barbs on the creature’s arms than there are teeth in a dog’s mouth. You hissed when Alucard began cleaning the wound and his head snapped up to your face, just barely to make out the look of hardened anguish on his features as your eyes fluttered, vision fading out again. 

“Just hold on, Y/n. Try to stay awake if you can, I’ll try and get this treated as quickly as possible. You nodded your head weakly as he did everything to try and get the bleeding to stop in some areas while cleaning others, you struggled to pull up your clothing more to try and make it easier for him to work. 

You weren’t entirely sure what happened next, only that he was stitching some of the longer wounds where the barbs had dragged through your flesh by the time you were aware again. Had you passed out at all? 

You watched him work diligently with the skills his mother had taught him and groaned when he tugged a little too hard on one of the stitches. You could hardly feel the pinch of the needle over the hot, throbbing pain of your wounds. You were worried about how much blood you had lost and didn’t doubt that the same thing was concerning him. You could make him out a little clearly now, catching the streaks of red tears rolling down his cheeks and you knew that he was frightened for you – you had been his only company in the castle since that terrible night involving Sumi and Taka, after all. 

“Alucard.” Your voice sounded muffled to your ears and you reached out to him with a bloodied hand, “I want to tell you something.” 

“You’ll tell me later, when you’re resting and healing.” His tone attempted conviction yet it wavered, afraid. 

“I know but come.” He leaned down over you, coming closer to hear you better, your words coming out in mumbles of fluctuating volume. You reached up to cup his face in your hands, thumbs caressing his high cheekbones as you took in his golden hair, slender nose, the soft cupid’s bow of his lips and his pale gold eyes that were tainted a coral colour with his bloodied tears, “Just let me look at you for for a little bit.” 

“You can do that plenty when you’re feeling better but I need to treat–”

“I know.” You truly did know but he needed to feel sure of himself. He was scared and that would hinder him. You decided there and then that this would not be the last time you looked at his beautiful, beautiful, face for the last time, “You’ve got me. I know you’ve got me and I have something to tell you when I’m feeling better.” You offered him a weak smile and your words seemed to have the intended effect on him as he nodded his head and set your hands back down by your sides, getting to work with more confidence. You watched him work as you forced yourself to stay alert, awake. 

He deserved to know how terribly in love with him you were when he finished treating you. 

☾ ⋆ﾟ Buy me a coffee?

#adrian fahrenheit tepes #adrian tepes #adrian tepes x reader #alucard x reader #alucard castlevania #alucard #castlevania x reader #castlevania netflix #netflix castlevania #castlevania