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sanguineterrain · 8 months

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Feel like I’m so basic but Jason Todd with a crush and him having zero social skills and just being super clumsy despite being highly competent when he’s in the field. Crush is like real sweet and kind maybe a service worker ✨

anon u are so true and real for this bc jason is definitely an unsocialized cat when he has a crush 💓

jason todd x gn!reader. shyish/anxious jason with a big fat crush. baker reader. annoying customer. the duality of jason todd. 1.6k words.

also i fully believe that silently leaving huge tips as a way to flirt is like. a wayne trait. 100% that family does that bc of bruce.

prompt lists are here! i reblog all fics to @sanguinelibrary

****

Business has been slow.

It's not like you expect your cafe to be packed to the rafters all day long, but you've had a grand total of four customers today. One of them only came in to ask where Starbucks was.

Frankly, you're not sure the cafe can afford to stay afloat for much longer. Gotham isn't known to preserve small businesses, and the conglomerates (cough, Wayne Enterprises) are taking over the world anyway.

So today is a reading day. You might even close early.

You're at a table in the back, so absorbed in Poirot's sleuthing that you don't hear the door open. It isn't until you turn the page and look up that you see your resident lurker waiting quietly at the display case. You flinch so hard that you spill iced tea on your jeans.

"Shit," you murmur, grabbing a wad of napkins and patting yourself dry.

Jason (as is written on his coffee cup) looks up from the pastries, teal eyes wide. You smile briefly at him. For such a big guy, his footsteps are astonishingly soft.

"Is everything okay?" he asks, voice rough like he doesn't speak much.

"Yeah, fine. You just startled me—I didn't hear you come in. Were you waiting long? Sorry about that."

"Oh. No, I wasn't. Sorry." He shifts weight between his feet. "You seemed pretty engrossed in your book. I didn't, uh, want to disturb you."

"Oh, hey, don't worry about that! It's literally my job to be here," you say, though you can't help but melt over how freaking sweet that is.

Jason visits you a minimum of twice a week. He's been coming for a couple of weeks. You know a whole three things about him: he's a university student, he pretty much only dresses in red or black, and he's unfairly cute.

At first, you were reasonably wary of him because it's Gotham, and he's so damn quiet. It's a little scary. You thought maybe he was an undercover spy casing the joint. Now you know he's just awkward.

"Slow day?" he asks.

"Slow year, more like. How are you? How was your exam?"

He blinks. "Exam?"

"Didn't you have an American lit exam last week?"

"Oh. Uh, yeah. Wow. Yes, I did. It was okay. Got an A."

"That's great! I knew you'd ace it."

His cheeks turn pink. Okay, you actually know four things about him: he blushes a lot.

You go to start the coffee machine. "Do you think you'll—"

"I-I have to go."

You watch, stunned, as he hurries out the door. That's when you notice the fifty dollar bill in your tip jar.

You don't know if you should bring up yesterday. Jason's back; that probably means everything's fine, right? You're not sure if you said something wrong, though. You've gone over the interaction a hundred times since and you can't figure out why he's so skittish around you.

"Hi. Hibiscus tea, please," he says, stoic as always.

You prepare his order, yesterday's interaction still fresh in your head. You should say something, shouldn't you? Or...

"Sorry about yesterday," Jason blurts, so fast you almost miss it. "Running out, I mean. I was, uh—I forgot something."

Well. Looks like he's going to bring it up for you.

"Oh, you don't have to apologize! If I said something wrong..."

Jason shakes his head fervently. "No, God no. You're perfect."

Your eyebrows shoot up. He turns red this time.

"I mean—not perf—well, you're amazing, don't get me wrong! Except, like, what is perfect, y'know? My brother has gotten into the habit of calling everything perfection like some kind of sitcom character. Alfred will make pie, and Dick'll go, "Alfie, that was perfection." And I feel like it's such an exaggeration—"

Jason's mouth snaps closed. He rubs his forehead.

"Um, I actually have chronic foot-in-mouth disease. It gets really, stupidly bad. Sorry."

You're trying hard not to giggle. You want to smother him in frosting and take a bite.

"You're really sweet, you know that?" you say.

"I'm really not," he says with a sigh.

"Not true. Can you do me a favor?"

"Anything."

You go into the kitchen and return with your latest experiment: matcha cream puffs.

"Do you mind trying these for me? You're not allergic to anything, are you?"

Jason's shoulders hunch. "Are you sure you want my opinion?"

"Of course I'm sure," you say happily. "I trust you."

"You trust me," he repeats quietly.

"Yup!"

Jason takes a puff and bites. He starts to nod.

"It's really good. You're really—all your creations are—yeah. It's good."

You squint. "No notes? Really?"

"They're perfection, as my brother would say."

Fuck, you like him so much.

"Have another one," you say, pushing the tray towards him.

"I shouldn't—"

"Wait! I'll pack you some!" you interrupt, flitting back to the kitchen to get a Tupperware.

Jason helplessly accepts the container of puffs you shove into his hands.

"Let me pay-" he tries to say, but you shake your head.

"Nope! I won't accept payment for these. Not from my favorite customer."

"Your favorite?"

"My favorite," you confirm, grinning.

"Oh." His ears turn pink as he walks to the door, cream puffs in hand. "Uh, right. Thanks. See you tomorrow."

"Jason? Don't you want your tea?"

"Shit. Yeah." He returns to the counter and takes his drink. This he insists on paying for, so you let him, because you do have rent to pay, after all.

"So nice to see you!" you add, because the stiffness in his gait is kind of throwing you off.

He just nods, slipping out the door as quietly as he came.

Today, Jason's in a red workout tank. You have to make the conscious effort to not ogle his arms.

"Hey, Jason!" you say cheerily.

"Hi," he says softly.

"The usual?" you ask, and he looks up in surprise.

"You know my order?"

You gently roll your eyes. "Of course I know your order, silly. Favorite customer, remember?"

"Oh." He looks away, brow furrowed. Then he turns to you and his expression smooths over. "Yes, please. Thanks."

"Sure. Give me one second? I just have to finish decorating some sugar cookies."

"Take your time," Jason says, then goes to skulk by the window.

The door is suddenly swung harder than necessary, thumping the glass.

"Hey!"

You look up from the cookies. A man in a suit is waving his phone impatiently.

"I ordered a dozen muffins. Where are they, huh?" he demands.

"Oh, right! Well, you called ten minutes ago, so they won't be ready till six, sir. Can I get you something while you wait?"

He scoffs and stomps to the counter. You almost back down, but you don't; that's exactly what these bullies want.

"This is exactly why no one eats at dinky cafes like yours. You can't even do this!" he fumes, shoving a finger in your face.

"Sir, like I said, the muffins are baking..."

"I know the city's health inspector personally," the man spits viciously. "One call, and I can—"

"Say one more word."

You blink as Jason is suddenly between you and the customer, stood at his full height. He's all muscle and broad shoulders, looming over the guy. You peek around him.

"What the fuck, man?" the angry customer squawks. "Move!"

"No, you move," Jason says, tone lethal. "Sit quietly at a table and wait for your muffins to bake. Then you can thank the nice baker for waiting on your sorry ass and you're not gonna come back. They have far more patience for entitled fucks than I do."

"Fuck you," the man spits.

Jason calmly closes the distance between them and whispers in his ear, hand like a vice around the jerk's shoulder. You watch as he turns pale, eyes growing wider.

"Sound good?" Jason asks pleasantly, all teeth. The man gapes at him.

Wow. Yeah. This is really doing something for you.

The oven dings. You go to retrieve the muffins, packing them as quickly as possible. You give him the box and the man nods.

"Thanks," he mumbles, then scurries out of the store.

Jason turns to you, and it's like looking at a completely different person.

"You okay?" he asks, posture stiff like he's still prepared for a fight.

You nod, a little dazed.

"Yeah. Wow. Jason, I... you didn't have to do that. I mean, thank you for doing it, but..."

"Hey, that guy was a jackass. And if you have trouble with him or anyone else, call me, okay?"

This side of him stuns you. If you didn't know better, you'd think he had this exchange regularly.

"Call you?" you ask, smiling. "How will I call you if I don't have your number?"

He freezes, eyes wide. "Oh. Uh. Um..."

You lean over, elbows on your counter. He watches you. You cup your hand around your mouth, pretending to divulge a secret.

"This is where you, the cute guy who frequents my struggling cafe, gives me your number."

"You think I'm cute?" he asks.

"Devastatingly so," you say, grinning.

He's quiet for a long moment. Your smile starts to dim.

"Did I read this wrong?" you ask. "If I came off too strong..."

"No!" he says a little too loud. Jason winces. "Sorry. No. I... you're... fuck, I'm not good at this. I don't even really drink tea or coffee, to be honest. I just come in to see you."

"You do?"

Jason sighs. "Yeah. Shit. That's creepy, isn't it?"

You laugh and he visibly softens.

"No, Jason," you say warmly. "It's sweet."

"So can I still ask you on a proper date? Not coffee."

You grin. "That would be perfection."

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #batman fanfiction #red hood fanfiction #jason todd fanfiction #coffee shop au #bakery au #dc fanfiction #inbox #blurb

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whatsnewalycat · 1 year

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bunny - one shot

Javier Peña x PhoneSexOperator!Reader - Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 2k+

Warnings: Phone sex, masturbation, aliens??

A/N: Just for funsies. I’m gonna do a second part to this at some point in time. Is it considered a one shot then??? Idk. Enjoy ☎️

EDIT: LINK TO SECOND PART HERE

The first time you heard Javier Peña’s voice was in 1998.

Fresh off a call with one of your regulars, Dale, with whom you role played an alien abduction fantasy, detailing the things you would theoretically do to extract his sperm in an attempt to make an alien-human hybrid clone. You told him all about how you were wrapping your spindly, gray, extraterrestrial fingers around his cock, pumping his throbbing manhood, so warm, so deliciously human. From wherever he was, a wet slapping sound and shaky little moans filled your ears.

Sometimes you theoretically shoved things up his ass while he actually shoved things up his ass. Probing, he called it. Sometimes you’d theoretically take him in your tiny, lipless alien mouth while you sat at your kitchen counter and stretched your very human lips around a dildo, rutting up and down until you were gagging and gasping for air. Dale, on the other end, would start out whimpering no, don’t, I have a wife. Then as the squelching sounds of the dildo in your mouth grew wetter, faster, he would grunt out things like fuck yes, you fucking like that you naughty little alien?

Only after he came would he allow the façade to break, mumbling a thank you, telling you about how his wife thought his fetish was too weird to partake in this kind of role play. You said that you enjoyed his calls because it allowed you to be creative and… actually, you found it kind of hot. He said he’d talk to you soon and dropped the call.

Then the next call came in.

“Hi,” you purred, “What’s your name?”

“Javier,” he replied, “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

The dulcet baritone of his voice was smooth and sure. There was clinking and a long sip from his end, indicating that he was drinking.

“Bunny,” you told him, “What’re you drinking tonight, Javier?”

This was a fake name, of course, and was listed in your newspaper ad alongside a grainy black and white picture of a woman who was most definitely not you. Most men know this, sometimes asking what’s your real name? Or, what do you really look like? And you always tell them the same thing: I’m whatever you want me to be, handsome.

A fantasy. A shapeshifter. Custom-tailored to outfit their most depraved sexual cravings.

“Whiskey,” he answered, “How long have you been doing this… Bunny?”

As thinly-veiled as his disbelief was, you appreciated his attempt to suspend it when he said your fake name.

“About a year now,” you started off around your kitchen’s island counter, stepping heavy to let him hear your heels click-clack against the tiled flooring. That really got some men going.

The wet swallow of his throat, a slurp, then a quiet sigh. Another sip of his whiskey. He then inquired, “Do you like it?”

“I do,” you replied earnestly, looking up at your ceiling, studying the grooves of the light fixture hanging above you, “I get to talk to all kinds of interesting people.”

His throat rumbled in acknowledgment.

“How was your day today, handsome?” you prodded, trying to sus out what this man’s motive was for calling. Some people take a while to gather the courage to come out with it. A few just want to talk.

“It was shit,” he grumbled. The flick of a lighter, then a muffled inhale, exhale. Smoking.

“What can I do to make it better?” you asked, edging your voice along the rasp of your throat.

Javier took a long drag off (what you assumed to be) his cigarette, then said, “Tell me about something that makes you happy.”

You frowned and hummed in contemplation, searching your mind for what you think would make Bunny happy.

Then he added, “But don’t give me some horse shit answer like you’re just so happy with a cock crammed down your throat, ok sweetheart? Real answer.”

This made you laugh, and you told him, “Sure. Ok, let me think.”

“I like your laugh,” he commented softly while you were digging through your brain.

“Thank you, Javier,” you smiled, then started pacing around your island counter as you mulled over an answer that’s real, but not too real as to reveal the tender parts of yourself you keep separate from this job.

He waited patiently, sipping his drink and smoking.

“There’s a bird feeder in the garden of my apartment complex,” you confided as you leaned against the counter and crossed an arm across your soft middle, “In the morning I sit out on my deck and watch the birds while I drink coffee.”

“And that makes you happy?” he asked. His voice was flat and unbelieving.

“It does,” you confirmed, nodding your head as you shifted your weight from one leg to the other, “I think it’s important to take joy in the small things. Like how the sky looks when the sun is rising. Or when I see a black-crested titmouse at the bird feeder.”

“A what?” Javier chuckled, and it was warm and deep and genuine, “What’re you, a Boy Scout?”

“Bunny scout,” you joked.

Heat spread across your face like wildfire when he laughed at this. The sound made your heart skip a beat.

“And, what makes you happy, Javier?” you asked then, dropping your voice to sultry croon.

He grunted at this. The sound of a fridge opening. Ice clattering into his glass. The glug-glug-glug of whiskey being poured.

You pushed off the counter and walked around the island again, the click-clack of your heels on tile sounding off every second like a timer.

“I suppose, the company of a beautiful woman like you is enough to make me happy.”

“I thought you said no horse shit answers,” you teased.

He laughed again, which made you smile, then he cleared his throat and admitted quietly, “I’ve been trying to figure it out lately.”

“Trying to figure out what makes you happy?”

“Trying to figure out what happiness is,” he clarified.

The salience of his admission struck you. You hummed to emphasize its poignancy, then told him, “Happiness is whatever you want it to be, handsome.”

Javier was the one humming then. A long sip of his whiskey. The sound of a lighter sparking the tip of a cigarette.

“Can I ask you to do something for me, sweetheart?”

“Whatever you want, Javier,” you cooed.

“Tell me what you’re wearing.”

You looked down at your baggy t-shirt and biker shorts, “A red lace bra and matching panties.”

“What you’re really wearing, Bunny,” he purred, “Let me see you how you are.”

“I’m wearing shorts and a t-shirt,” you admitted with a smirk.

“Take your shirt off,” he instructed.

You placed the phone on the counter and pulled your shirt off over your head, dropping it next to the phone. When you brought it back to your ear, you notified him, “My shirt is off.”

“Mmm, good girl,” he breathed, “Bra?”

“Not wearing one,” you told him, “I’m… topless in my kitchen right now.”

“Squeeze your tits.”

With your free hand, you grazed your breast, then pinched your nipple with a whimpered, “I’m squeezing my tit.”

“The other one, too.”

You complied, attending to the opposite side with another airy whimper.

“Do you still have shorts on?”

“Yes.”

“Take them off.”

You shimmied your shorts and underwear down to your ankles, then stepped out of them, “They’re off.”

The jingling of a belt buckle. A zip. More jingling. A soft exhale.

“I’m touching myself,” you told him as you dragged your fingertip along your seam, exploring the ridges and valleys of your sex.

“Tell me more.”

“I’m rubbing my clit,” you narrated your actions in a throaty whisper, “Drawing circles around it, it feels so fucking good, Javier.”

“Suck on your fingers.”

You did this, humming and licking around your digits.

“Are they wet?”

“Yes.”

“Spit in your hand. I wanna hear it.”

You gathered a wad of saliva on your tongue and spit it onto your fingers.

“Good,” he rumbled, “Rub your clit again, sweetheart.”

A whimper fell from your lips as you follow his instructions, “Oh my god, Javier.”

He groaned and the sound dripped down your center, hot and tangible as it pooled inside you.

“Are you stroking your cock?” you asked him.

“Yes.”

“Good,” you purred, “Fuck, this feels so fucking amazing, baby.”

“Tell me more,” his voice was low and strained.

“Rubbing my swollen fucking clit, I’m so fucking wet,” you whined, and it was real, the heat gathering at your core and pooling between your legs.

“Let me hear how fucking wet you are, sweetheart.”

You slid your touch down your lips and spread your slick around, then sank two fingers into your cunt. With a shaky moan, you started fucking yourself, letting the wet squelch of your arousal sound off freely, breathing, “Can you hear that, Javier? How much you turn me on?”

“Oh my god, yes-” he groaned, “Are you fingering yourself?”

“Yes,” you whimpered.

“Get on your knees,” he instructed, so you did, then he told you, “Put the phone on the ground so I can hear you. Keep doing what you’re doing, baby, make yourself feel fucking good. I wanna hear you make yourself cum.”

“Setting the phone down,” you told him, then put it to rest on the floor between your spread knees.

This man’s stern instructions swirled around in your head, filling you with fire. You followed the urges of your flesh, moaning wantonly as your hands worked your body, “Yes yes yes- just like that, Javier, that’s fucking perfect-”

You arched your back and let your eyes flutter shut, picturing this faceless stranger getting off on the sound of your moans, the wet sound of your fingers rutting in and out of your pussy. Frantic whimpers huffed from your throat as you chased this shimmering, golden orb of pleasure, “Yes, Javier, yes yes yes baby, I’m gonna cum- that’s it, Javier- oh my god yes, I’m fucking cumming-”

Your words caught in your throat. The strumming of your touch on your clit, your fingers inside you, the stranger stroking himself, it all tightened and lifted you. The swell of an orgasm overtook your body and crashed down on you. You released a shattered moan as your pussy fluttered around your fingers.

When you picked up the phone, your breath was ragged, chest heaving, “Did you get that, handsome?”

He was panting, too, “So fucking hot.”

“Did you cum for me?”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, “I did.”

The flick of a lighter on the tip of a cigarette.

You giggled, “I wish I could have heard it.”

“Is that right?” he rumbled, taking a drag of his smoke.

“Yeah. I think it’s sexy,” you admitted, then added, “Maybe next time.”

“When can I talk to you next?”

You gave him your schedule. It became a weekly occurrence, these calls with Javi, which you eventually were given permission to call him. He was your favorite caller.

With most of your callers, there was an expectation that you would morph yourself into their fantasies. Which is fine. It’s something you enjoyed about your work as a phone sex operator. But there was something so freeing about your calls with Javi, how he wanted you to be yourself. Your real self turned him on more than any of the bullshit.

He never asked for your real name, although you could tell he wanted to know it. Every time he called you Bunny, it left his lips with a kind of disdain. Like he couldn’t stand you pretending to be someone he knew you weren’t. He opted to use sweetheart or baby instead, which you liked.

Javier was a loyal customer for two more years, until you were hired as a professor at The University of Texas San Antonio and finally had the financial freedom to quit your side gig as a phone sex operator. Truth be told, you grew quite attached to him. You couldn’t bring yourself to tell him it was your last call when it happened. Goodbyes have never been your strong suit.

Little did you know, no goodbye was necessary. Because it wouldn’t be the last time you’d hear his voice.

[ part 2 ]

#javier peña #javi peña #javier peña x reader #javier peña x you #javier peña fic #narcos fic #narcos fanfiction #javi pena #javier pena #pedro pascal #pedro pascal character fanfic #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal character #whatsnewalycat writes

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octuscle · 4 months

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I want to turn myself into a twinky fuck toy for a wealthy man. Can chronviac help me with that?

Well, as they say, everything's bigger in Texas… I'm a junior partner in a large New York asset management firm. We take care of the high net worth clients. To get into our client file, you have to have over USD 100 million in free liquidity. Our clients are demanding. But we are the best. And we do everything for our customers. Really EVERYTHING!

When I took over the clients of a colleague who had retired a month ago, I thought Chuck Tex was a stage name. Until I had my first appointment with him. His record was more than impressive. Heir to old oil and cattle nobility. Classic career of the Texas oil barons. School in New England, studied in Paris, Oxford and Zurich, founded his first start-up company at the age of 20. And sold at 25 for USD 500 million. Now in his mid-30s, he had not yet inherited a cent from his family, but thanks to his excellent education and connections, he had already amassed a fortune on a par with that of his old man. I expected… Actually, I had no idea what I was expecting… But I certainly didn't expect this:

Chuck looked like a porn star. Or a marriage fraud. Or just like a man who I couldn't wait to throw me on the bed and fuck me mercilessly. His handshake was firm, but finely dosed just before the pain threshold. His gaze could certainly cut through steel plates. But I was a professional, I kept my composure. After I asked him what I could do for him, he got straight to the point. First of all, he needed some cash for his stay in New York. USD 10,000 would be enough. Gladly 100 dollar bills. But hot off the press, please. That was no problem. I sent a short memo to my assistant and she would take care of it. But the real reason for his visit was a project in Greenwich Village. He had bought a few buildings there that he was renovating. His aim was to restore the Village to its former charm. That's why he wanted to create cheap apartments, studios and stores and eliminate expensive office space. The whole thing was not intended as an investment, more as a hobby. A kind of gay and creative Disneyland. I briefly wondered why I wasn't actually a billionaire… And then I asked Chuck what my role was. Whether I could help with the financing or with saving taxes.

Chuck just grinned. No, saving taxes wouldn't fit in with his understanding of patriotism. And he would have financed it all with his last start-up exit. But he would need someone to take care of the real estate. Someone to ensure the right tenant mix. Someone to give his studio apartment the right finishing touches. I briefly went through my network in my mind. I had a gay acquaintance who owned a number of bars and restaurants. And I also knew a good project developer. And one of my school friends was a hip interior designer. I smiled and said I probably had just the people he needed. Chuck smiled back. It made my heart stop. He didn't want anyone from my network. He wanted me. I was about to say that I was flattered, but that I wasn't available for such projects right now. But instead I said "Of course, Daddy". Did I want to accompany him to the construction site? "If I may, Daddy!" At that moment, my assistant came in with a bundle of freshly pressed banknotes. Chuck smiled and said he needed me for the rest of the day. Please cancel all my appointments. I nodded to her and followed Chuck like a dog to its master.

In his limousine, Chuck asked me if I had ever been to Texas. I answered in the negative. But the boots I was wearing looked authentic. Yeah, they were my pride and joy. But I wouldn't have ridden a bull yet. I shook my head and giggled like a schoolgirl. Chuck kneaded the bulge in his pants and said that I would definitely be fucked by a bull today. I only got out a "Thank you, Daddy". Chuck let me sit on his lap. He undid another button of his silk shirt and exposed his right nipple. Like a puppy on its mother's teat, I began to suckle. Chuck kneaded my bulge and said that I was a good boy.

The car came to a halt in the second row in front of an old brick building. The walls were covered in high-quality graffiti. There was a closed table dance bar downstairs and some kind of jewelry store upstairs. Some kind of jewelry on display. Made of stainless steel. On closer inspection, piercing jewelry, cock rings and stainless steel dildos. I looked in the shop window like a child in the window of a candy store. Chuck took my hand, pulled me into the stairwell and told me that I could choose something later if I was good. He stroked the long hair on the back of my neck. I love my Mullet. I look a bit like the young cowboys on Daddy's Daddy's farm.

We had just arrived at Chuck's empty apartment when I got down on my knees in front of him and unbuttoned his pants. "First you strip for me, boy," Chuck ordered. He tossed me a cowboy hat that was in a closet. "Everything but your briefs, boots and hat!". Eagerly awaiting the reward, I did everything I was told to do. "And now lube yourself up". He threw me a bottle. And I did as I was told. I could feel my hard-earned muscles disappearing. I felt younger and younger. Although it was hard as steel, my cock was getting smaller and smaller. "I think you need a little more decoration, boy," Chuck said and put a chain on me. Satisfied, he looked at me as I sat on the floor and could hardly wait for my reward.

Chuck took his boner out of his pants. And I leaned back in anticipation. I wanted to be a good houseboy. And today was the housewarming party.

Chuck's pic found @mensuited, yours @hellishin

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #age reduction #top to bottom #twink tf #redneck tf

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steddieasitgoes · 5 months

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@steddiemas Day 4 Prompt: Questionable Holiday Movies

Like many, I chose Gremlins.

Tags: Post Season 4, Everyone Lives, Movie Nights At The Harrington's House, Established Relationship

wc: 1225 | Rating: T

Read on ao3 | ao3 collection

When Eddie pulls up at the Harrington house he’s come to frequent in recent months, the driveway is full of bikes. Those damn little shits, Eddie thinks, shaking his head as he parks the van on the curb in front of Steve’s house. The curb where said bikes should be instead of taking up prime parking real-estate for actual cars. He’s going to get ahold of one of his damn sheep and scold them for their carelessness. It’s one thing to leave them littering the lawn, but the driveway? Have some decency!

Moseying his way to the front door, Eddie makes it all of a few steps onto the bike cluttered driveway before he hears familiar voices shouting at each other. All the blood drains from his body in an instant. Mind raising through a hundred and one ways that something might be wrong.

He was a pessimist before, but his brief stint with the Upside Down has really taken a toll.

Double-timing it, Eddie bursts through the front door and down the hallway into the Harrington’s open living room. Thankfully, he doesn’t find any signs of blood, floating bodies, or otherwise distressed children. Instead, his eyes land on Dustin and Steve who are glaring at each other by the television set.

“You’re uncultured!” Dustin shouts.

“Shut up, Henderson,” Steve snaps, hands on his hips. “I am not uncultured. You’re uncultured!”

Dustin gasps, more offended than he should be. He takes a step closer to Steve, puffing out his chest to make himself look bigger. “You take that back.”

“No.”

As the heated argument morphs into a silent stare-down, Eddie takes a moment to assess the rest of the room. Robin, Max, and El are on the sofa, leisurely enjoying a bowl of popcorn. The rest of his Sheep are scattered around, attention focused on the mountain of Family Video rental tapes on the coffee table.

“What the hell did I walk into?” Eddie asks when he realizes no one is going to fill him in.

“Dingus and Dingus Jr. are arguing,” Robin supplies.

“S’nothing new,” Max agrees.

“We are not arguing,” Steve grumbles.

“That I can agree on,” Dustin says, nodding his head. “I am having a discussion with Steve and his lack of taste in Christmas movies.”

“First of all, Henderson, taste is subjective or whatever,” Steve says, hand abandoning his hips for a moment to flounder through the air. “Secondly, it’s not a discussion if you spend the entire time yelling at me for something you’re wrong about.”

“I’m not wrong! Dammit!”

There’s a part of Eddie that wants to see how this plays out. He’s no stranger to the epic Steve vs Dustin arguments conversations. There’s still a stain on the carpet in his own bedroom after an innocent debate over the best ice cream float combinations turned ugly. On the other hand, Eddie’s had a long day of getting yelled at my stupid customers, he could use some quiet.

“Gentleman,” Eddie says, clapping his hands. He moves between the two scowling men — well, man and teenager. Though, maybe Steve doesn’t deserve to be called a man right now either considering he’s arguing with Dustin in the first place. Whatever. He’s standing between them is all that matters. “What seems to be the issue today?”

“Why do you make it sound like we always have issues?” Steve asks at the same time Dustin snatches a VHS tape from the floor and practically shouts, “Steve says Gremlins isn’t a Christmas movie.”

“Because it’s not!”

“It takes place on Christmas Eve!”

“That doesn’t make it a Christmas movie!”

“Are you even listening to yourself, Steve? Of course that makes it a Christmas movie!”

“No, it doesn’t! It has nothing to do with Christmas!”

Eddie’s sandwiched between the two of them now, ears ringing from the volume their voices have reached. No one else seems to be interested in refereeing this particular argument and Eddie can’t really blame them. Maybe he should have let them hash it out themselves. Too late now.

“Alright, alright,” he sighs, nudging them both backward with his outstretched hands. “Valid points have been made on both sides.”

Eddie playing mediator does nothing to pull the scowls off Steve and Dustin’s faces. If anything, he thinks they might have deepened. He’s in too deep to stop now though, so he powers on.

“But unfortunately one of you is correct,” he says, clasping his hands together under his chin. He rocks on his feet, head swaying from side to side as he offers both Steve and Dustin apologetic gazes. “Stevie, sweetheart, I’m afraid Dustin is right on this one.”

“Ha!” Dustin shouts, throwing his hands up in victory. “I told you!”

Steve scoffs. “You’re a shithead, Henderson.”

“A shithead who is right!”

“You know what,” Steve says, trailing off.

Eddie catches the mischievous glint in his eyes. The same one he used to sport down the halls of Hawkins High with Carol and Tommy as they bitched about everything and anything. Eddie was never on the opposite end of Steve’s bitchy attitude, not important enough back then, but he certainly witnessed it more times than he can count.

Eddie’s willing to bet Steve gearing up for something that’s going to make Henderson retract his victory. Sure enough, he slinks up close to him and slings an arm around Eddie’s waist.

“Hey, baby,” Steve says, voice dripping in sweetness.

This isn’t going to be good for Eddie.

Steve's hand trails into Eddie’s back pocket and gives his boney ass a light tap before retreating.

“If you want more of this,” Steve says, slipping his hand into Eddie’s back pocket. He lets his hand hover there for a moment before he gives Eddie’s boney ass three lighthearted, teasing taps. “I suggest you join my side of this little discussion.”

A loud gasp escapes Eddie as Steve squeezes his ass cheek before withdrawing his hand completely. Glancing over, Eddie finds Steve staring at him with that same glint in his eyes and a cocky smirk on his face.

“No,” Dustin shouts, shaking his head. “No! That’s not fair. It’s illegal!”

“Sorry, Henderson,” Eddie says, genuinely apologetic in tone. He does think Gremlins is a Christmas movie, but the threat of not having Steve’s hands on him ever again? Well, that’s not worth defending Gizmo and the rest of those evil bastards. “I’ve had a change of thought. I don’t think it is a Christmas movie.”

“God dammit!” Dustin swears, stomping his foot. “See, this is why I didn’t want you two dating! You’re ruining my life!”

“Oh, quit being dramatic, Dustin,” Lucas says, rolling his eyes. “Let’s just pick something else.”

“Yeah! It’s just a movie, dude,” Mike chimes all.

“Screw all of you!”

As the room resumes its chaos in a different form — the boys arguing over what else they can watch seeing as Gremlins is out of the question. Eddie finds himself being ushered over to the recliner, where he’s promptly pulled into Steve’s lap.

“You know Henderson is right about that movie?” Eddie whispers, nuzzling into Steve’s chest.

Steve hums, closing his eyes for a moment as Eddie places a featherlight kiss to the two moles dotting his neck. “Don’t tell him, but I’ve actually never seen it.”

Eddie pulls away swiftly, nearly sending himself toppling off Steve’s lap. Thankfully, Steve’s reflexes are fast and he steadies Eddie with a firm around his torso. “You’re evil, Harrington,” he quietly chuckles, shaking his head.

“Gotta keep his ego in check somehow.”

#steddiemas #steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie fic #steddie fan fic #steddie fluff #steve harington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington ficlet #eddie munson #eddie munson ficlet #eddie munson fic #dustin henderson #stranger things #stranger things fic #dani writes

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guillotinebypierre · 6 months

Text

This is a direct continuation of the last story.

3rd Person POV

Following the events of the night prior, Y/n had decided to just not go to sleep at all. Spending his night working out and drinking excessive amounts of energy drinks and coffee, he went to work with bags under his eyes and laser focus.

His job starts at 6 in the morning. Y/n was, much to the surprise of most people, the head cook in the kitchen, having worked his way up the ranks incredibly quickly due to his (sometimes) otherworldly skills, incredible adapting nature and organised way of handling things. He always starts by cleaning everything, as he believes a clean environment is key to being focussed and efficient with your work. After making sure cleanliness isn't an issue, he starts off by prepping the ingredients: cutting vegetables, seasoning everything, refilling and restocking what needs to be restocked and refilled.

The first customers normally arrive at 8 in the morning, mostly rich people, who aren't necessarily celebrities, that just want some breakfast. To him, the real work doesn't start until midday, as during that time most idols have their break and enjoy a nice meal at the restaurant. It was at this time that he started seeing familiar faces.

He was greeted by Karina and Giselle of Aespa, with whom he was really close, in addition to a few actresses that specifically requested to sit near the window that looked into the kitchen and offered the chance to talk to the cook himself.

He also saw Yeji, someone with whom he had been texting pretty much every minute following the events of the night prior. Behind her walked in a sulky figure with a black face mask and bucket hat. She had shoulder length hair, not that Y/n had needed any other indicators to help him figure out who Yeji had walked in with.

The pair had ordered their usual meals as take out, probably due to the fact that at least one of them wasn't exactly in the mood to go out of the house, having come to the restaurant only due to hopes of meeting Y/n.

Y/n, however, wasn't having any of that and excused himself to the staff room for the time being. It wasn't that he was scared, more like he had plans for the evening and he was not in the mood to get those plans tempered with. He took his phone out as he felt an all to familiar buzz coming from it, indicating that someone had sent him a message. He opened up the messages app and saw that he had multiple unread chats.

Yeji

>Y/n where are you? Didn't you say you had work today?

>Look, I'm sorry for this, but Ryujin literally fought her way out of the car to join me. She hasn't taken your choice that well and is still hanging onto the idea of you forgiving her for playing with your feelings :/

Rina Noona<3

>Heyyyy Y/n~ We just arrived back at the company, thank you for the food😚

>Ning and Minjeong were really mad that we didn't take them with us but they said something about going later. Will you still be working tonight ?

>I really want to spend some time again, just the two of us you know? When do you have time, please let me know!

He wrote her a quick reply back, smiling at her message while doing so

Y/n

Heyy Noona! I'm happy you enjoyed the food🫶🏼 Tell Ning and Minjeong that I'll be out today since I have a meeting in the evening but I'll be working the full shift tomorrow again and I'll gladly take their orders then. I also really miss going out with you, I'm actually free the whole next week, so just let me know what day works best for you :) Send Ning, Gi and Minjeong my best wishes, ttyl :)) <

The last message was the one he had actually intended on answering first, seeing as it was the most relevant one.

Taeyeon🤍

>hey Y/nn~ hope work is all right today. I can't wait to see you tonight, I missed you a lot :( Hope this can make the last few hours a bit more bearable

*1 Attachment*

The look on Y/n's face changed from confusion to a visible blush covering both his cheeks as he opened the image to find a picture of Taeyeon sitting on a chair while getting her make up done, only covered by a small towel that left little to the imagination.

He was pulled from his thoughts as one of the waitresses walked into the room and asked for his help with a dish. He hastily replied to Taeyeon before putting his phone away and getting back to work, thankfully without having to interact with neither Yeji nor Ryujin.

-------

The day continued more or less the same for Y/n, with the restaurant picking up steam towards the evening as more and more people came in and the kitchen got more hectic. His phone continued blowing up with messages, most of them from Taeyeon who either sent him more soft nudes or sent him risky texts with the goal of making his last few hours at work, literally, harder.

He checked his clock regularly until it finally hit 6.30 in the evening and he took aside his most trusted sous chefs and gave them one last run down on how to deal with everything from nasty customers to a fire in the kitchen. He appointed two of them to cleaning the kitchen, jokingly threatening to fire them if they didn't do their job properly before making his way out to the sound of his coworkers teasing him about his 'date'.

Y/n decided to walk towards the SM building, seeing as it was only a twenty minute walk and he could use the extra steps given the fact that he didn't go to the gym that day. With music blasting through his ears and the cool weather sending pleasent shivers done his spine he walked until finally reaching his destination.

He looked around, not sure what to expect as he never asked Taeyeon what car her manager drove. He sat on a bench near the entrance and as he was about to call her, a black mercedes pulled up in front of him. His first thought was that he was being kidnapped until the windows rolled down and he saw a small but stern looking woman starring at him.

"Are you Y/nn?", she asked.

"Y/n, but yeah thats me", he replied while smiling awkwardly at her

"You're somehow more handsome than Taeyeon described, hop in.", she said while looking him up and down.

"did she just check me out?", he thought to himself while walking towards the back door and opening it.

"So manager noona where are we going?", he asked trying to ease the tension.

"Taeyeon asked me to drive you to the hotel she's staying at. The original plan was for you to go to her house but that's too far and she has rehearsals tomorrow.", she replied while looking at the road.

"Oh-"

"Just relax, I'll tell you when we get there.", she said before closing the small opening through which they had been communicating.

--Y/n POV--

I looked out of the window for most of the ride. The beauty of Seoul never failed to amaze me. In the beginning it was quite hard for me to adapt to it, it was a completely new country after all. Learning the language was even harder, not to mention finding a place to stay. Thankfully, that recommendation by my professor and my experience working in restaurants helped me a lot with finding work and subsequently a place to stay.

These past few weeks have been a wild ride, to say the least. The more I think about last night, the more at ease I am. At the end of the day it was never meant to be, and maybe finding closure will help me find my luck with someone else. Maybe Taeyeon is that person? Would be pretty funny. I always liked older women, maybe she is the one.

I subconsciously smiled at the thought of Taeyeon as we slowly but surely made our way past the KSPO Dome, the place where the show would be held this weekend. My mind wandered towards the concert, the 'private show' Taeyeon talked about. I couldn't stop mind from going there, my pants becoming tighter by the second as I thought about what she had possibly meant by that. I checked my phone for the time. It was 7.45 in the evening. Taeyeon said she'd be finished by 8.30, meaning that I'd probably have to stay a bit on my own before I'd see her. My phone buzzed, leading my mind into thoughts about the pictures she had sent me earlier. I once again found myself thinking about-

"Hey lover boy are you going to get out or do I need to tell Taeyeon her boy toy was too mesmerised by some pictures on his pho-"

"Alright alright I'll get going, my bad manager noona", I cut her off before opening the door and getting out.

"Hey pretty boy!", she called me as I walked towards the hotel.

"Yeah?", I turned around

"We need her at full force tomorrow, please don't go too hard on her and don't hurt her with your....weapon.", she said while shifting her gaze towards my crotch.

I blushed as I turned around and walked towards the reception.

The hotel was very bougie, incredibly luxurious. I know that's rich coming from someone who works at the place I work at, but still, even for my standards this was crazy. My gaze wandered towards the decoration, asking myself how many night shifts I'd have to work extra if I were to accidentally break something here before I heard the receptionist calling me.

"Hello, how may I help you ?", she asked while smiling at me

"Hi, I'm here to see Taeyeon-noona, she said she'd have a reservation or whatever for a visitor under the name Y/n ?", I said to her while smiling.

"Can I see your ID ?", she replied while looking me up and down.

'Whats up with women today checking me out in such obvious ways'

"Here you go, this is the card to get into her suite. She really didn't do you justice with her description, you're even better looking than what she described you as. Her room is room 9, it's part of our VIP suites at the top floor.", she said as she handed me a black card with the letters 'VIP' engraved onto it.

I thanked her before making my way towards the elevator. I looked at the pad before pressing the button with the largest number on it. The elevator rose as soothing music filled my ears. My body relaxed as I now knew I didn't have anything to do except waiting for the next hour or so.

A loud *ding* took me back to reality as the golden doors of the elevator opened and revealed a fancy looking hallway, guarded by security. I gave them my card as they checked some kind of list before finding what I assume to be a message left by Taeyeon and letting me through. I walked around the hallway, taking in the red carpet, the expensive paintings and decoration before standing still in front of a large marble door with a golden nine on it. In front of the door was some kind of pillar with a touchpad on it, a small box in Korean telling me to put the card onto it to open the door. I held my card against it, the door suddenly making a clinking noise as if it were a safe.

I pushed the large door open, taking in the sight in front of me. I walked into the suite, seeing a large living room area that was larger than my own apartment. It housed a gigantic TV, an unnecessarily large couch that resembled a queen sized bed and a coffee table on which I could recognise a few od Taeyeon's favourite books and magazines. I walked a bit further and found a kitchen, made up of a stove, an oven and a fridge and freezer, a sink and lots of cabinets.

I walked over and took a look into the fridge, seeing a few ingredients sitting there.

"Did Taeyeon buy these?", I asked myself.

I continued walking around before entering the master bedroom. It looked like something straight out of porn. Heart shaped bed with a fucking pole in front of it, fluffy, cheap, pink handcuffs sitting on the drawer next to it, candles all over the room and rose petals laying all around the room. There was a box with chocolate and strawberries laying on the bed and a bottle of extremely expensive champagne and two glasses next to it.

I walked around a bit more, finding the bathroom. It was also filled with lit candles and a bubble bath full of rose petals.

As I walked out of the rooms I soon realised that the whole suite was bathed in a jasmine scent. I shook my head as I realised that literally everything in here was an aphrodisiac which made it pretty obvious what my 'private show' was going to be.

*click*

"Hello? Y/n are you here?", a tired Taeyeon shouted as she entered the suite.

She took off her sneakers, kicking them off somewhere near the entrance before dropping her bags too and walking inside.

The room was dimly lit, the only light coming from the candles around the countertops, the living room area and the moonlight that was shining through the large window.

"Y/nn? Reception told me you're here, no need to act all mysterious now"

"Hey Taeng, how was work", he said as he walked past her with two plates of food and two wine glasses.

He sat the food on the table before walking over, kissing her and taking her jacket off. Y/n led her to the table before pulling the chair back and helping her sit on it.

"What's with the look, you make it seem like you've seen a ghost.", Y/n joked as he sat down.

He popped open the bottle of expensive wine he had room service bring up before filling their cups.

"Y/nn what is this?", Taeyeon said while a smile formed on her face.

"What? Don't you like it?"

"I love you- it. I love it. But what did I do to deserve this kind of treatment?"

"Well apart from releasing great music for the past, like what, decade? You've been working really hard and it doesn't take a scientist to see how stressed you are, I just wanted to do something nice to cheer you up-"

Taeyeon leaned over the table and kissed Y/n passionately.

"You really want to make sure you get that private show, huh?"

"This is all just to smitten you, noona. I could get that private show right now if I tried a little."

"You're way too cocky for your own good, Y/nn", she replied while rolling her eyes.

She turned her attention towards the food in front of her before cutting it up and eating.

"Y/nn did you cook this?"

"Of course, did you think the dirty apron was just for show?"

"Shut up I just imagined you asked room service."

"Noona be serious we both know their cooking would never in a million years be halfway as good as mine."

After eating Y/n took both plates to the sink and started washing the dishes while Taeyeon went to her room to change.

He was just finishing putting away the cutlery when he felt a pair of arms wrap around him and someones face make its way to his back.

"Are you finished?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Good."

Taeyeon spun him around before kissing him, her arms interlocking behind his neck and pulling him down. Y/n's put his hands on her hips as the two swayed lightly.

They eventually broke off, a string of saliva connecting their mouths as she whispered against his ear

"Good, because I want some dessert"

Taeyeon dragged him off by his collar before slamming the door shut and pushing Y/n onto the bed.

Taeyeon turned around, an array of candles and incenses lit behind her , as she grabbed a remote and turned on red LED lights.

It was then that Y/n saw what she was wearing, a black see through nightgown with a matching black lingerie set underneath. It contrasted her skin and hair.

The red lights bounced off her body, highlighting her silhouette while making her every move seem sultry and sensual. Y/n could only stare in anticipation as she swayed her way towards the pole in front of him.

Taeyeon winked at him before dropping the nightgown on the floor and kicking it away. Her hands moved across her body as she started walking around the pole, her arms now grabbing it. Taeyeon suddently sank, her ass bent over towards Y/n as he could make out her labia from her see through panties.

Taeyeon continued by moving her body sensually across and around the pole, giving Y/n a show as she slowly started taking off her bra and panties, throwing them at her lover.

As her show came to an end she slowly walked over to Y/n before crawling onto the bed and taking out a blindfold.

"Settle down now", she whispered in his ear while slipping the blindfold around his head and over his eyes, "and remember, I'm the one in charge. Let your noona take care of you."

A sudden noise made Y/n jerk up involuntarily as he felt something tighten around both of his wrists, restricting his movement and tying bim to the bedpost.

"Taeng these cuffs are cheep as fuck, you know I can break these, right", Y/n said jokingly while jingling the handcuffs around his wrists.

"You can but will you want to?"

Y/n laughed but it quickly turned into a groan as he felt and heard Taeyeon rip open his shirt, throwing it aside before taking off his pants and underwear in one smooth motion.

She slid down his body, her fingers sending a pulse through him wherever she touched. It was always like this when they were together: she'd sweep in like a storm, whipping the waves into a froth as he tried to keep his head above water.

But why should he fight it? Why not drift in her wake, even if it was just for tonight?

Taeyeon pressed her lips to his stomach, leaving a trail of languid kisses further and further down, her fingers tracing lines along his thighs. Y/n shuddered, feeling himself throb as she brushed against him, and let his mind slip away.

Y/n moaned when she took him in her mouth, her movements torturously slow as she licked him along his length. He shivered, his senses in overdrive.

Taeyeon took her time in getting reacquainted with him and his body, whispering things that made his head spin and heart race. She had never had much patience when it came to sex, always eagerly getting lost in the frantic throes of passion, mostly due to her wanting to get rid of her own stress, but this time something felt different.

He held his breath as Taeyeon picked up her pace, letting him hear what she was doing to him. Y/n clenched at the sheets behind his head, careful not to break the cuffs. The wet sounds she made drove him wild, and he wasn't sure how much more he could take.

Y/n gasped, and Taeyeon took it as a cue to slow down and replace her mouth with her hands, letting him get himself under control.

"Shit, Taeyeon." Y/n let out a shaky breath, pitching his head back into the pillow and letting his body unwind. He pulsed in her hand and she made a throaty sound, leaning her weight on his chest as she raised her lips to his ear.

"You'll finish when I'm done with you," she whispered, nipping kisses down his neck and collarbone. "But until then, you'll do exactly as I say."

Y/n nodded eagerly, drinking in the warmth of her body as she pressed against him. He felt her hand slip between them, playing with herself as she told him how wet he'd made her, and what she'll be doing to him.

Y/n throbbed with need for her, returning her kisses with all the hunger he felt in his body, and Taeyeon took it all greedily.

"I want you to taste me," Taeyeon said, her breath on Y/n's ear as he melted against her. She slipped two fingers into his mouth, and he sucked at them, tasting her as she pressed into his tongue.

Y/n groaned when she slid them out, and Taeyeon laughed, "There's more where that came from, Y/nn."

She gripped his jaw lightly, straddling his torso as she lowered her breast to his mouth. Y/n took his time, sucking at her nipples and pressing with the flat of his tongue, delighting in the way that she gripped her fingers in his hair and shuddered above him. He lavished her with attention, lost in the motion of her pleasure as she squeezed her legs around him, content that she'd chosen to spend tonight with him.

Y/n breathed heavily when Taeyeon pulled herself away, her own breath shaky as she spoke.

"Are you ready to taste me again?"

"God, yes."

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, noona"

*slap*

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, mommy"

"Good boy"

Taeyeon climbed up to sit on his face, pressing her sweetness into his mouth and tongue. Y/n moaned into her, already lost in her heady scent and taste, her soft sounds of pleasure driving him wild.

"This is where you belong, worshipping me," said Taeyeon, running her hands through his hair, and Y/n moaned his assent.

"None of those other little whores you fuck know how to deal with you. None of them can please you like I can."

He licked and sucked, his breathing picking up pace as she ground herself into him. Y/n kept his tongue wide, letting her use his mouth however she pleased, and Taeyeon clenched her thighs tighter around him, running her fingers through his hair again before pulling off the blindfold.

Y/n watched her from below, a sense of dreamy pleasure passing across her face as she squeezed her breasts and rode him.

"You make me feel so good," she encouraged, her eyes meeting his own. "Yes, just like that."

Y/n could feel himself throbbing as she used him and took her pleasure, and he couldn't look away from her eyes as they shone with desire. He would do anything to make her feel good, to keep her feeling good, as long as she looked at him like that.

"Fuck," Taeyeon managed, her face flushed as she shuddered and climbed off him.

Her breathing came fast and shallow, and she threw her arms around Y/n as she planted kisses along his neck and mouth, tasting herself on his lips.

Her hands moved down his body before she wrapped her hand around the base of his shaft and squeezed, humming excitedly.

"Did you miss me?" Y/n asked.

"You could say that," said Taeyeon, straddling his waist. She brought her face close to his, locking eyes as she slid down onto him, his breath catching in his chest as she clenched his bicep for purchase. She let out a soft moan when he bottomed out into her, and shifted her hips to adjust to his thickness.

Y/n moved inside her, tasting her lips in a blur of pleasure as they kissed. Taeyeon squeezed around him, bucking her hips as she rode him, lost in the throes of passion.

She freed his hands from the cuffs, and Y/n stroked her skin wherever he could, her smoothness a revelation to him. Taeyeon pressed into his grip, rolling her hips with him as they came together and chased their beating hearts.

Being with Taeyeon was like grabbing a live wire or a bolt of lightning and holding on for dear life. Her skin was electric, sending every bit of him tingling as they breathed together, locked in their rhythm.

Y/n slid his hands to her hips, guiding her into his thrusts as he picked up the pace, unable to wait any longer. He pressed his thumbs into her flesh and she shivered, clenching around him as she ran her fingers through his hair and over his chest.

Taeyeon wrapped her hand around the back of his neck and leaned her forehead against his, meeting his eyes. Her gaze was deep with meaning and Y/n felt as if he'd been swept away, his mind jumping to old hopes and habits as if he'd been born to it.

He lost himself in the rush, the sound of his name on her lips as his senses shivered with mounting pleasure.

"Ruin me, Y/n," she whispered — or screamed, he couldn't tell anymore — as she came undone around him, and those three little words were nearly on his lips before he gave himself to abandon, cumming inside of her and releasing every last drop of semen he had story in his body.

Taeyeon breathed heavily, her breasts expanding on her chest as it rose and fell again, her pulse so fast that she thought her heart was about to shoot out of her. Her hair was messy, it stuck to her forehead. Her skin was glistening with sweat while her legs felt like jell-o.

Taeyeon's entire lower body felt sore and sticky, a large puddle of white liquid having formed between her legs where she had fallen asleep. She looked over and realised her tossing and turning had woken Y/n up.

"What- what time is it?", he yawned while stretching.

"It's five in the morning. I need to go to the venue in like two hours. You can continue sleeping..."

"Or..?"

"Or you can join me in the bathtub for a bath?"

"Lead the way, Taeng."

Taeyeon slowly made her way towards the bathroom while holding Y/n's hand behind her.

"The slap still stings, by the way."

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me-"

"I know what came in you."

"Do you want to get slapped again.", Taeyeon threatened before Y/n slapped her ass.

The pair soon got into the bathtub. The water was still warm, curtesy of the jets and heater of the tub. The room was still filled with aphrodisiacs, which made it almost impossible for the two to keep their hands off each other. It didn't take long before a heavy make out session was started.

Taeyeon sat on Y/n's lap, grinding on him and making the water overflow, not that they cared about it at all. Her fingers dug into his back as he left hickeys across her body.

Things were getting heated and, unfortunately, had to be cut short.

"Y-Y/nn MHHH I think we should sTOP here."

"Why noona"

"I have to be there in a bit more than an hour and if you fuck me again right now I will definitely not be able to do the choreo properly."

"But noona-"

"No, I promise I'll make it up to you tonight. You'll even get another private show."

"Alright fine."

"Love you", she kissed him before getting out of the bathtub and getting dressed.

The week passed quickly, with Y/n working full shifts and spending the rest of the night with Taeyeon. His phone kept buzzing as a certain someone tried reaching him, but he just turned it off and asked his coworkers to call his work phone if they ever needed something.

The weekend arrived in a blur and Y/n finally saw Taeyeon's concert in person, from a VIP position. A lot of idols were present, a lot of his friends and people he'd rather not have seen.

The show was fantastic, and aside from greeting and talking to a lot of his friends, Y/n got pulled by Taeyeon into an empty staff room at the end of the show for a preview of his own private show he'd be receiving later that night.

Unbeknownst to him, however, the confrontation he had been avoiding all this time was soon going to catch up to him, forcing him into an incredibly uncomfortable situation.

*You have one missed call*

*sobs*

"Hello? Is this Y-Y/n? Look, I know why you hate me, and I also know why you're avoiding me but I STILL LOVE YOU Y/N.

'What is she doing, Yeji'

'YAH RYUJIN YOU'RE DRUNK STOP CALLING PEOPLE'

Y/N PLEA- PLEASE JUST CALL ME BACK."

*the call has been disconnected*

to be continued

#kpop fanfic #kpop imagines #kpop smut #kpopfap #idol x male reader #kpop x male reader #x male reader #male reader #itzy ryujin #taeyeon #snsd #sm entertainment #girl group smut #femdxm

192 notes · View notes

angelwithdemonictendencies · 6 months

Text

meeting you was too perfect to be real; somehow i know in every lifetime i've heard your laugh.

jd6 x reader: baristas always flirt like this with customers, right?

(warnings: no warnings today! (isn't that just deranged?). all sweetness and cuteness and sparkles and the like. my gift to you, free of charge. (enjoy!).

(a/n: my favorites! i give to you the sugar installment of my sugar and spice project. nothing even a little bit sad, here. and, surprisingly, i actually had a lovely time writing this. so much so that i'm almost tempted to make this into a full story, not just a scene - so let me know if that would be something you're interested in. i love a good coffee shop meet-cute, so i tried to do it justice, complete with a shy, blushy jd6. tell me what you think, tell me how you're doing, tell me what you'd like to see next, tell me what you think about the season so far. go canucks. sending every lovely thing i've got to you and your snakes. you can find the spice story of this project (toxic tz11. have i convinced you?) here. until next time).

anaheim was sort of funny. hot, but not necessarily oceanic, somehow still classic california. it was home to you, or at least it had been for the last couple of years.

however, in a very classic california fashion, rent was high, and although you loved your job as a barista like a hobby, lately it didn't really seem to be paying the bills.

so, you asked around, told your friends that if they knew anyone who was looking for a place to live, they should send them your way. you let that issue settle to the back of your mind, for now.

this morning, the opening shift was busy but predictable. the regulars stopped in for their typical before-work cup, filling you in on new developments in their lives as they tore open sugar packets. you convinced two customers to try your new fall creation, a cinnamon pumpkin latte, which was quickly becoming you go-to. your only co-worker for this shift was your work-best-friend, which you loved, which made the shift feel like it wasn't even work.

the opening hours flew by, as they so often did on weekdays. like clockwork, three hours in, your coworker took their break, going out back for a smoke.

there were no surprises, nothing new at all, until someone you had never seen before stood in front of you.

someone tall and broad, with messy dark hair that glinted almost purple under the soft light and the warmest eyes you had ever seen. his sweatshirt hung off of him like a blanket, clinging softly to the muscles of his shoulders and arms.

you cleared your throat. "welcome in. what can i get started for you?"

somehow, he looked even more unbalanced than you felt. he coughed before shoving his hands in his pockets, rocked back and forth once on his feet. "uh, yeah, h-hello." his voice was not what you expected, a little less steady, a little too telling. you knew immediately that he was a terrible liar, that everything he thought and felt would play across his face and tone in the truest, most sincere of ways. "i've never been here before."

your smile was instinctual, immediate, and his hands flexed in his pockets when your face brightened. "i know," you said, tilting your head at his look of confusion "i would have remembered you," you whispered like a teasing secret.

rosy pink began to appear at the tops of his ears, across his freckled nose.

anyone who worked as a barista would tell you that flirting was pretty much in the job description. one of those unspoken truths of the universe, that the pretty faces making the coffee let compliments flow easy as cream.

it was so much more fun when the customer looked like this, behaved this way, like he was so mature but still somehow not used to the attention, which you could barely believe. if he looked like this, he must know the effect he had on others, no? at the very least, could he assume the effect he had on you?

your laugh was soft. "didn't mean to embarrass you, new kid."

he reached a hand up to rub at the back of his neck, nervous habit. how gentle it looked it on him. "'s okay, petal, forgive you." his voice seemed to have steadied, now, as he settled into his space. into your space, too.

you blinked. in your head, it was comically slow, like a cartoon. is this what swooning felt like? your head filling with chatter like girls at a sleepover in middle school, gossiping behind hands shining with popcorn butter?

you cleared your throat. "so, what are you drinking?"

he sucked on his teeth for a second, appearing to think. "usually a black coffee kind of guy," he mused, leaving the end of his statement hanging between you like a question.

your smile grew childish in its sincerity. "but you're going to let me make you a more interesting drink because black coffee is boring?"

he rolled his eyes playfully, pretended to think about it, absentmindedly twisting the ends of his soft hair between his thick fingers. "i really don't like chocolate, okay?"

you scrunched up your face. "me neither," you said, sensing you almost had him.

you leaned forward on the counter, summed up your most convincing expression. "c'mon, please? you deserve a sweet treat! promise i'll make it so, so good for you."

"woah, the brothel's next door." your coworker's interested and mocking voice came ringing in clearly as the back door swung open and shut.

you and your new customer both turned a bright pink.

"can i make you a treat, please?" you said to him, simply, pulling a cup from the stack next to the register.

"i'd like that," he said, bashful as anything, his smile like a reflex.

you nodded to your coworker. "my friend's gonna ring you up."

her eyes lit up with mischief as she took your spot at the register. "let me guess," she said, barely able to talk because of her laughter, "you want that iced?"

your brow furrowed in confusion, unsure of the grounds on which her joke was being made, but you just finished fiddling with the espresso maker and put the finishing touches on your creation.

an iced americano, since he liked black coffee, with a splash of almond milk you infused with cinnamon and cardamon. a classic with a twist. something different, like you were so sure he was.

you handed it to him with a smile, still flushed from his presence, pleased to find him just as affected as you.

he held it in his hand like a treasure, like some kind of luxury, never looking away from you.

"aren't you going to take a sip?" you asked. "so i can make you something else if you don't like it?"

he shrugged, the motion making the muscles in his shoulders and back ripple. "i trust you."

you could have shaken your head at him. how silly, you could have said, how silly you sound, talking like that to me.

"i hope i'll see you around, new kid," you said genuinely as he made his way out, reluctance dripping from his frame like amber.

"thank you, petal," he said, so sweet you could have sworn the shop smelled like cotton candy for the rest of your shift.

"remember what i said about your zone entries!" your coworker called out after him as she wiped down the counter.

you turned to her, finally. "what are you talking about?"

she waved you off. "he plays hockey. my little brother's favorite. and god, if their zone entries aren't the sloppiest in the league."

she had lost you already, though, as your mind became clouded over with burnt caramel eyes and hands flexed in pockets.

an image that stayed present in your mind days after.

you had only just started to forget about your handsome stranger when one of your friends called to tell you he might have a roommate for you.

he assured you that this guy was not a creep, not even a little bit, that he was clean and orderly and liked a schedule, just like you.

"i swear, you'll love jamie," he had said.

and you knew this friend, loved him like a brother, trusted his opinion, so you agreed to have this prospective roommate, jamie, you supposed, swing by your place for a tour.

just a tour, you thought, what's the worst that could happen? it probably wouldn't even be the most memorable part of the hour, never mind the day.

you knew you were wrong when a gentle knock gave way to an opening door, and he stood there in your doorframe like a vision from a dream, hazy and lovely and every bit as beautiful as you remembered.

you almost dropped the mug you were holding.

and he genuinely did drop the flowerpot he was holding in his own grip. the loud crash had you covering your mouth with one hand.

"oh, fuck," came his rough voice, the smell of dirt growing stronger as shattered ceramic and soil now laid between the two of you like some sort of seance. "oh, god, 'm so sorry, petal," he practically whined. "just shocked me, 's all, didn't mean to make a mess."

you tilted your head, smile coming easy. "shocked you? you showed up at my house, new kid."

"if anything it's your fault," he said, face so rosy pink, smile shy. he let out a frustrated sigh, gestured to you. "can't answer the door looking like that, petal, swear you're a safety hazard."

"flattery will get you nowhere," you warned playfully, although you were pleased.

"not even in the door?" he asked, a hopefulness glazing over his gaze like lemon pound cake icing.

you shook your head, stepped to your side to let him in. "well, then, jamie, i guess i can start your tour by showing you where the vacuum is."

fin. (maybe).

#hockey #hockey smut #nhl #nhl smut #smut #jd6 #jamie drysdale #jamie drysdale imagine #jamie drysdale x reader #jack hughes #quinn hughes #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes smut #trevor zegras smut

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piratefalls · 6 months

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first list here.

round two i guess. i finally read 30 pages of a real physical book last night. progress? possibly. it felt right that while working on this "nothing's gonna stop us now" started playing. thinking about making this a wednesday thing. still trying to do a mix of new and old fics, even though it's all new to me. and much like alex claremont-diaz, this has been a mouthful. if you want me to tag you in any lists going forward, let me know!

Will You Brie Mine? by chamel

Today, as Henry tells him all about the Manchego, Alex tries his best to listen and not fixate on the mole next to the corner of Henry’s mouth or the way his shoulders strain the seams of his white uniform shirt. It’s not a particularly easy task for him, in all honesty. “Would you care for a sample?” Henry asks, as if Alex has ever said no to him. “I’d love one,” Alex tells him instead of saying I’d like to sample you. (Or, Henry sells cheese and Alex is somehow his best customer. It's not really about the cheese.)

take me out and take me home by coffeecatsme

“Shh.” Alex presses a finger over Henry’s lips. Their corners twitch, as if Henry’s desperately fighting a smile. “This is our house, baby. We gotta make it our own." Soon after Ellen's election, Henry and Alex move into a brownstone in New York. This is a story of how they make it home.

i still love you more than i should say by tkstrand

It’s been three months since Alex started working for Bankston & Shrivastava Associates, and he’s starting to think that his tiny crush on his coworker may not actually be that small. NYU School of Law may have helped him pass the bar, but it certainly didn’t prepare him for everything that is Henry fucking Fox. What makes it worse, though, is that Alex can’t do a fucking thing about it. No matter how much banter they swap, how many times he makes Henry blush in a day, it doesn’t matter. Alex can’t do anything, because Henry already has a boyfriend. Or, where a slight miscommunication leads Alex to believe that David is Henry's boyfriend.

and that's the way i loved you by HypnosTheory

Alex sighs, tilting his head back and sinking low in his chair. “What if I scare him off? He’s got a pretty big thing about commitment-” “He eats the same thing for breakfast and he wears a ring with his own initials every day,” Nora says, lifting her head up just enough to glare at Alex. “He doesn’t have commitment issues, he’s just a slut. Tell him you want him to be your slut. For the love of all that is holy.” -- Alex accidentally fell hopelessly in love with his roommate and fuck buddy Henry. He tries to plan the perfect confession, but when have any of Alex’s plots worked perfectly?

Baby, You're Gonna Lose Your Own Game by affectionatelyrs

Alex thinks he understands why people get stupid, impulsive tattoos like their ex’s name now if the sudden urge to etch the word darling onto his hip in permanent ink is anything to go by. So, yeah, Alex supposes. Henry may still be maddening, but his mouth? His voice? Maybe it was always hot, actually, and the irritation he previously felt was just thinly veiled complete and utter attraction. That would check out. Hate has always been a multifaceted word, after all. - Or, Alex decides that he wants to fuck the British out of Henry while watching him speak at a gala

flatline by rizcriz

Alex gets the call at 7:57am. It’s from an unknown number, so he answers it with an accent on his tongue and laughter in his throat, ready to troll the scammer for all they’re worth. But the voice on the other side of the line is serious, solemn, when she asks, “Is this, I apologize, all I’ve been given are initials, AGCD?” He frowns, turning away from the coffee shop he’d been about to enter. “Who’s asking?” There’s a moment of hesitation on the other end. “There’s been an incident. On the individual's phone, there’s a sticker. It says, if found, return to AGCD, alongside this phone number. Does it sound familiar?” Alex freezes in the middle of the sidewalk. “What kind of incident?” -- Or, Henry's been in an accident.

craigslist cutie (please don't go) by matherine

Here’s the thing. Alex is simultaneously very, very smart and very, very stupid. Nora calls it the Claremont-Diaz Paradox, and every time she does, June sticks out her tongue like she’s about twelve years old, and then Nora makes a comment about what she would rather June be doing with her tongue, and – okay. Off track. Not relevant to Alex’s current predicament, which is perhaps the most damning example of the Claremont-Diaz Paradox. Alex got himself into NYU Law with flying colors and LSAT scores in the 99th percentile, worked his ass off for three years, and graduated with honors and a crippling caffeine addiction. And then, because he is an idiot, he decided to take his JD, his potential, and his mountain of student loans to his brand-new job as a public defender. Unfortunately, being a public defender pays about as much as working at a Hot Topic. Which means that Alex really needs a roommate. Like, pronto. STAT. ASAP. He’s not sure who’s desperate enough to move into the other room in his beautiful, probably-not-bedbug-infested 700 square feet of Hell’s Kitchen, but he really fucking needs to find somebody. Craigslist is a last resort, but it does bring him Henry.

Professional Rivalry by clottedcreamfudge

"Decided to take the afternoon off to bump into pedestrians?" Alex asks as he gets to his feet, brushing off his chinos and pushing his glasses back onto his face where they've started to slide down his nose. "Shouldn't you be off somewhere writing about men in passionate embraces?" Henry regards him coolly over the armful of papers he's managed to retain complete control of, somehow, and Alex notices vaguely that he's got a smudge of ink just below his jaw. "Shouldn't you be taking a 1L lecture in," Henry pauses, looking at his watch, "less than five minutes?" "Fuck," Alex says again. "Fucking shit." Then he turns around and leaves Henry to bump into more people, probably, since that seems to be his only fucking agenda for the day. *** Professor Alex Claremont-Diaz despises Professor Henry Fox, so naturally they get roomed together at a conference. Alex is fine.

take a step, step again by iphigenias

This is not the first time. The first time, Alex left for class early, left Henry in their bed in Brooklyn with a kiss pressed to the exposed skin behind his ear. He didn’t hear from Henry all day. When he got home that night, Henry wasn’t in the kitchen, or on the sofa watching Bake Off, and he didn’t answer when Alex called. He was still lying in bed, and flinched, when Alex reached out to touch him.

mess me up (no one does it better) by extasiswings

Sometimes, Alex gets stuck in his own head. And for twenty-two years he doesn’t think there’s anything to be done other than to just go with it, ride out the frenetic energy until he’s fixed whatever needs fixing, or until the situation is over, whichever comes first. If he can just control everything, it’s fine. He likes being in control, he’s good at it, he’s fine. It’s just how things have always been. Until Henry.

five times henry's competency turned alex on and one time it turned him into a pile of romantic goo by helenblqckthorn

Alex has a fucking thing for competency. A competency kink, if he wants to be crude. And it just so happens that his boyfriend is one of the most competent men in England. Well, Alex, he thinks. You sure know how to pick ‘em.

Keep Most of Your Heart in London by cresswells

Alex thinks he’s prepared – as prepared as he’ll ever be. He’s been waiting for months to do this. He even did his research on the proper etiquette for a British royal engagement – and then promptly ignored it all. AKA: The one with the engagement of the century.

Red, White & Navy Blue by jedusaur

"Fine," says Alex. He clenches his jaw and his fists. "Great. Watch me. I'll bromance the shit out of the motherfucker."

how we rolled up the carpet (so we could dance) by adhoori

Henry shrugs off his suit jacket and tie, looking his usual annoyingly handsome self while Alex stifles a yawn in spite of the amount of caffeine in his system. “You’re a sight for sore eyes,” Henry says, looking all kinds of fond. Alex feels a little ridiculous in his tousled hair, glasses and the ratty NYU sweatshirt, but finds an answering warmth spreading through him anyway as he lets himself be kissed hello. “Hi, sweetheart,” he says, leaning back into the chair while Henry leans against the desk.

you and me, forevermore by bellamysgriffinprincess

"He pushes up on his toes to kiss Henry, who returns the kiss immediately, greedily, tongue brushing against his in a way that makes Alex's brain short circuit just as much as it did a year ago. A year ago. It still does something to him, stirs something deep inside him that makes his entire body feel like pure mush. It's a memory burned so bright in his mind - cold air, a buzz in his veins, a tree in a quiet garden, fingers gripping his face, soft lips against his. The night his world turned on its axis and shifted toward Henry, altering his path and forever tilting him closer." Or, Alex and Henry on New Year's Eve, one year after their first, and Alex wants it to be special.

All Booked Up by allmylovesatonce

A book tearing up the Bestseller’s List is quickly shoved into Alex’s hands via June and Nora. Despite his resistance, he’s taken in by the book and its whirlwind romance. When Nora insists they all go to a reading with the mysterious author, Alex is drawn in by H. G. Fox, hanging on his every word. When they meet after the signing, it sets him on a path he’d thought was impossible.

Are You Screwing With Me? by railmedaddy

Alex is only downloading Grindr because he’s curious. It doesn’t fucking mean anything, right? And when he answers a call for help from a very hot neighbour – who has no business having a shoulder-to-waist ratio like that – he’s just being friendly. It definitely doesn’t mean that he’s going to discover things about himself that he’d assumed were just passing curiosity. Or, the Grindr meet-cute AU

Yo Te Guiero A Ti by lucy_in_the_sky

“So,” Henry starts again, setting the now empty beer bottle down with a decided thud. “You want to bottom, but are having trouble fingering yourself and making it feel good?” He asks, voice deeper than usual. “Yeah, that’s pretty much it,” Alex shrugs, still feeling half turned on and half mortified. “And you want my help with fingering yourself?” Henry asks, slightly incredulously. And fucking hell, that’s exactly what he wants, even though he technically only asked for Henry’s advice, not his help actually fingering him. “Would you help me?” Alex breathes out, the question barely a whisper.

We were staying in Paris by hollybibble

Henry wakes up with Alex for the first time in Paris. He's desperately in love but still managing to convince himself he is in control...until Alex calls him 'baby.' Cameo appearance by Henry's leather polo gloves.

Piping and Draping on a Saturday Night by cmere

Dear Alex, Please consider this email confirmation that I am available to help supervise students at the End of Semester Dance on Saturday, December 19th. Do let me know if there is anything I should prepare in advance. I look forward to working with you. Sincerely,Professor Henry Fox, Ph.DHistory Alex doesn't really understand why boring and pretentious Professor Henry Fox volunteers to help out at his students' events every semester, but he needs all the help he can get, so he's just gonna have to put up with him.

don't be surprised, baby (it's just me) by pissedofsandwich

Henry reflects on his relationship with touch over the years.

love dares you, to change our way of caring about ourselves by kapplebougher

Henry has read it all: fairy-tales of princes and their courters, unsung histories of kings and their secret lovers, and he has read all their happy endings. But he is not a prince in a fairy-tale, and he has always thought his own secret love story was likelier to end in tragedy. Perhaps it’s time that changed. (Or, Henry’s POV the morning after The Great Claremont-Diaz Ambush at Kensington Palace)

I'd Cross Oceans by 14hpgirl19

Dating a prince is hard. Dating a prince when you're the son of the President is even harder. Alex is done with barely seeing Henry. When Henry gets sick while in London, Alex decides to take matters into his own hands. (And if he ends up with a fiance at the end of it, even better.)

watch before it ends by indomitablelove

He should be working on this essay so he can spend more time with Henry this weekend. He really, really should be working on this essay. But. But. Henry is going live on Instagram. --- that's it, that's the fic.

you turned a moment (into forever) by viciouslyqueer

Sharing an apartment with Alex had seemed like a good idea at first. They’re best friends, prices in Brooklyn are absurd, and they had both been in urgent need of residence – it only made sense. Except for the small, tiny, teeny, barely there fact that Henry has been in love with Alex from the first moment he laid eyes on him. And the fact that Alex doesn’t know, and can never find out.

#rwrb #henry x alex #firstprince #first prince #fic rec #rec list #rwrb rec list #i am not as funny as i think i am i apologize

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luvfy0dor · 7 months

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I Like my Boyfriend !! ♡ Fyodor Dostoevsky x GN!Reader ༉‧₊˚.

╰┈➤ Word Count; 2.9k ♡

Warnings; Cheating, angst, some Sigma x reader, abandonment, perchance ooc

Description; Your boyfriend wasn't treated the best as a member of the DOA, the sole benefit being the casino he gets, but that casino is the very place his own partner starts to feel more for his boss than him.

A/N; Im so sorry y'all I know I should be doing requests instead but I think I won't be able to work on other stuff if I don't write this out ykwim 😞

The sky casino became just as much of your home as Sigmas when you started seeing him romantically. You spent many nights there, convincing Sigma to come and lie down with you when he was over working himself or massaging his shoulders after he had to deal with a stressful conflict between visitors. Sigma had welcomed you into his home with open arms once he was convinced you wouldn't take advantage of his naivety, sharing his rather short yet tragic life story and entrusting that you would be as loyal to him as he was to you.

The heels of Sigmas shoes clicked against the floor, making a soft tapping sound as you walked through the Casino corridors, his arm hooked around yours. His long, choppy hair fell over his shoulders so beautifully, the silky strands bouncing as he walked. He seemed tired today, having a little less pep in his step then usual, if you could even call it that. Energy was a better word, the poor boy looked utterly drained this morning. These are all the things you would usually notice and tell him about later, either through means of complimenting him or gently scolding him for spending too many hours memorizing small details about the casino's customers. Today was different, though. Your mind was clouded with the thoughts of someone else, another man, specifically the one you were so excitedly making your way to visit.

Ofcourse, whenever Sigma is around, you feigned strong dislike towards Fyodor, but that couldn't be further from the truth. You enjoyed your short time spent around Fyodor, he was utterly sublime in your eyes in every single category; smarts, looks, and honestly everything else. Despite his musty-seeming aura, he actually kept himself very hygienic. He showered every morning, alluring you with the clean and fresh scent of whatever soap he used to scrub away any accumulated dirt from the day prior. The quiet and quick glances you took of each other made your heart flutter, having to bite your lip in order to hold back a flustered, shaky breath.

You didn't realize just how emotionally disloyal you were to Sigma until he started ranting about Fyodor one evening and you objected him. It's not like you said anything too jaw dropping in your opinion, instead you said something along the lines of "Don't you think you're exaggerating a bit, honey? He's not all that bad." Was that the right thing to say to your boyfriend in that moment? No, absolutely not. Would that be the right thing to say to Sigma in literally any other moment? No, absolutely not². You knew that, you knew that real good and well, yet you couldn't stop your words once they already started to pour out of your mouth like a waterfall. The look of absolute shock and betrayal that painted Sigmas face was one you wouldn't forget in a million lifetimes. You could still hear the sound of his angered, yet not aggressive questions lingering in the back of your head at all times. Anytime you peeked in Fyodors direction with a blush on your face, you heard it.

"Y/n, are you being serious? You know about everything he's done, to me, to all those innocent people!" Sigma quietly murmured to you, the room falling silent with no white noise in the background to take your attention away from his truthful words. "And you really think he's not all that bad?" He says, visibly heartbroken, especially since he had shared all this with you; he trusted you to be the first person to back him up when he participated in Fyodor discourse, you taking the opposing side was something he could almost never predict. In all honesty, he didn't think you would have the heart to.

Sigma firmly believed that if you fell in love with another man, you would atleast tell him instead of leading him along like a horse with a carrot on a stick, but he was clearly wrong. He noticed your brief glances and exchanges with Fyodor, he noticed the way you started to get more nervous around him, and not the unsettling nervousness. It was the kind of nervousness a high schooler would have when talking with their crush. The kind of nervousness you get when you quickly interact with someone you've been so actively pursuing for months now, feeling as though you're finally making progress over a mumbled "excuse me" or "I'm sorry." Sigma believed that you were making progress with redirecting your hearts focus to him rather than to his superior, but today was going to either prove him right or wrong.

"Are you alright?" Sigma asks, the speed of his walking slowing down a bit as he turns to you, his eyes fluttering from your eyes to your lips quickly. You gave him a small smile and nodded. "Ofcourse, why do you ask?" You softly ask him, twirling some of his hair around your finger.

"No particular reason. You just seem a little...dazed this morning. Did you sleep well?" You hummed in confirmation, giving his hand a small squeeze. "Ofcourse I did, I had you sleeping next to me." You smile, knowing damn well you were lying through your teeth. You still loved Sigma, but recently many nights you found yourself gazing out the window, watching the stars for a while as you question your relationship with him. The main reason you stayed was because you weren't confident that Fyodor was in love with you the way you were in love with him.

"Alright." Sigma sighs, reaching for the handle of one of two big doors that towered over you both. "Let's just get this done and over with." He mumbles, pushing the door inwards and walking into the relatively spacious office. Fyodor sits in one of the chairs near Sigmas desk, adjusting his ushanka as he gazes at you both over his shoulder. "Good morning, Fyodor." Sigma says, sitting in his personal chair. Your eyes were glued on Fyodor as your brain turned off it's comprehension function, to dazed by the beauty of his gorgeous, purple eyes. You could hear both of the men speaking, but you had no idea what either of them were saying. You listened to the Russian accent in Fyodors voice, imagining him saying the things you wanted him to. You wanted to hear him tell you how lovely and fantastic you are, you wanted him to tell you he wanted to spend every moment of the day with you, your mind even slipping into fantasies of marrying him; envisioning pretty flowers on tables and what you would say in your vows.

You snapped out of your fantasy just in time to notice Fyodor looking straight at you, continuing to talk with sigma but staring into your soul. You blushed and averted your eyes from him for the very first time since you arrived in the room, diving back deep into your silly little fantasies about an average life with Fyodor before being so rudely interrupted by a loud and echoing knock. Sigma beckoned the person inside, the person only turning out to be one of the casinos many lower-ranked staff.

"Sigma, you're needed out on the floor. I'm not quite sure for what, but one of the customers requested to speak with you." This evoked a loud sigh from Sigma, who didn't really want to leave you alone with a man you had been "all over" a couple of months ago (and still were) , but he really had no choice. In the end, however, he would sacrifice you and your loyalty if it meant he got to keep the one thing he finds true, genuine, and unwavering stability in. The familiar sound and echo of his shoes fill in the silence, the door being left wide open deliberately. The staff member follows Sigma out onto the casino floor, leaving you and Fyodor in the room together, sitting across from each other. You stared at him for a moment, and leaned back in your chair.

"I noticed your staring. Do I have something on my face?" He asks, his calm yet teasing smile made a shiver run up your spine, giddy over the entire situation. Your boyfriend has stepped away, leaving you with your dream man. Alone. You shook your head at Fyodors question.

"No, no. Sorry." You mutter an apology, blushing. He hums, watching as you twiddle your thumbs or twirl your hair, doing anything you possibly could to avoid eye contact. He softly chuckles. "You seem so nervous around me...do I make you anxious? Are you scared of me?" He asks, continuing to tease you and trying to get you to admit your attraction, to which you shake your head quickly. "Not at all, no. I just...sorry, I didn't mean to stare...zoned out." You mumble. He lets out a soft "ohhh" , nodding and leaning back in his chair, his legs crossed.

The room falls silent for a moment, the clouds slowly passing by outside hold your attention. You can so clearly feel his eyes burning holes in the back of your head, and if that had hurt you, it must have been utterly agonizing for him. You turn to look at him, your head tilting ever so slightly. Your eyes immediately lock with his, creating even more tension in the room than you had previously thought possible. "I know where your attraction lies." He says with a smirk, resting his head on his slightly balled fists. Your face felt as though it had immediately lit up in flames of embarrassment, trying to arrange your words in the most intelligible way possible.

"Ofcourse you do, you're a smart man." You say, raising one of your eyebrows and bouncing your leg a bit. "Ah, and Sigma is not?" He mutters with a large grin. You sigh a bit, shaking your head.

"I don't recall saying that." He hums, nodding. "You didn't say that, but it was kind of implied. Unless, ofcourse, Sigma knows that you're far more interested in me than you are in him." He says, rising from his chair and walking over to you. He gently grasps your face, squeezing your cheeks ever so slightly between his thumb and every other finger. His gaze flickers between your eyes and lips in the same way Sigmas had earlier that day. This time, instead of feeling nothing at all, you felt a strong, almost magnetic urge to connect your lips to his. One of your hands found itself on Fyodors chest, the other on his thin bicep.

"You're right, it did sound that way. I think he knows, but I think he's really trying to salvage the relationship." You say, subconsciously leaning into Fyodors body. You barely felt sorry, any pang of guilt that nearly hit your heart was rebounded right off because of the high speed that Fyodor had caused it to beat at. The pure excitement and thrill you felt any time he acknowledged your existence made your heart flutter, easily overriding every other emotion. You knew he could feel it too, his eyes softening compared to when he conversed with Sigma, a new gentleness to them. His thumb gently caressed your jawline as he shamelessly stared at your lips. "Hm, so you're leading him on, no?" A soft chuckle erupts from his chest, his hand moving away from your face to rest in the space between your neck and shoulder, almost pulling you in closer.

"You're right again, what a surprise." You smile, flashing your teeth in the slightest as you both mutually lean in, ready to kiss before Fyodor brings his finger up to your lips. "Hm, no, not right at this moment." He grins, pulling away and removing his hands from your neck. You can't help but frown at the lack of affection, this doesn't go unnoticed by the highly observant Fyodor.

"You can get all of that and more from Sigma, dear." He smiles, almost as if he were trying to pull a confession out of you, and boy, was it working. Both of you knew you didn't want that attention from Sigma, not anymore at least. You had seemingly gotten bored after about a year or so. Ofcourse Sigma had his qualities that kept you enthralled for some amount of time, but Fyodor really could offer you all that and a bag of chips. Fyodor was more so your type than Sigma was, and obviously Sigma was beautiful, but Fyodor was resplendent. Sigma was determined, but Fyodor was unwavering, every quality you seemingly loved about Sigma was easily one-upped by Fyodor, and yet you still stayed with Sigma.

You groan a bit. "Fyodor, I don't want the affection from him." You say, caressing his shoulders as he sits, planted in the original chair he had greeted you both from. You softly stroke the fur on Fyodors ushanka as he hums, acknowledging your statement. "Oh, I'm fully aware of that." He mutters. "Why do you think you deserve it? You're quite rude. Leading such a naive man on like that." His grin never fades as he sits cross-legged in the comfortable chair, teasing you with his words.

"You can't talk, you've done worse, and regardless, Sigma may be naive, but he's not emotionally stupid." You say, trying to convince Fyodor to hand you the love and attention that you want from him on a silver platter. He hums, seemingly thinking for a moment. "Mm...maybe later, we'll see." His Russian accent is as present as ever while he speaks.

You nod. "Alright, I guess it'll be worth the wait." You say, playfully rolling your eyes before returning to your chair next to Sigmas. It doesn't take too much longer for Sigma to re-enter the room, reclaiming his spot next to you, the spot that you wish was being occupied by Fyodor. Again, you zoned out, not really caring to listen to whatever it was that they were blabbering about. You found yourself stuck in some demented loop every time Fyodor was in your presence, always ending up almost entranced by him. Bewitched, even, and then going back to Sigma the second he left yet still having him overtake your thoughts and desires. This had to come to an end, and you knew it.

As soon as Fyodor exited the room, you would tell Sigma everything. About how you've simply fallen for Fyodor instead, not intending to break his heart but going unbothered if you did. About how you've been thinking about it for a couple of months now and it was time to end this. It just was not what your heart wanted and had it gone on any longer, it likely would have been detrimental to Sigma. Your heart simply could not beat for him anymore.

You heard them wrap their conversation up, Fyodor standing to shake Sigmas hand, which he hesitantly accepted. They said their goodbyes, and Fyodor grinned at you before he walked out of the office room. Sigma sighed and sat back down for a moment. He looked exasperated, and you knew what you're about to say was only going to make things worse.

"Sigma." You called his name softly, not wanting to disturb him just yet. You gently massage his scalp as he hums in response, leaning his head back into your hands. "I'm not in love with you anymore." You mumble. You can hear his breath hitch and his eyes widening for a moment, his whole body freezing as if someone had hit a pause button on his life. He brings his hand up and pushes yours off of his head, getting up out of his chair. "And you're one hundred percent sure of that?" He asks, his face still having a baffled expression. You nod.

"Alright. Get out." He says, pointing to the door of his office. A part of you wants to apologize, but it would be disingenuous, so you only nod as you head for the doors. Once you shut them behind you, you pick up your speed to a jog and search the hallways for Fyodor. You turn numerous corners before you spot the familiar black fabric of his cape, encouraging you to pick up your pace a little more. "Fyodor!" You call out to him, slowing down when he turns around and grins, indicating your possession of his attention. You walk up to him and start to speak after catching your breath.

"Him and I are over, we're done, I'm not leading him along anymore." You admit, staring deep into Fyodors eyes. "Oh, and how are you so sure I'm not doing the exact same thing to you that you did to him?" Fyodor asks, his hair falling towards one side as he tilts his head, looking you up and down. You roll your eyes a bit. "Are you?" You question the Russian man in front of you.

"No, but what if I was? That would certainly be a crime-fitting punishment scenario, I feel." A small smile is present on his face as he looks at you, taking in every detail of your face, noticing how truly void it was of guilt for your actions. Maybe some pity for Sigma, but nothing more. You smile at his sentence. "Hmm...I don't know, I'd probably be pretty sad." You murmur, placing one hand on his shoulder. "So it's a good thing you're not.

He grins and leans in before whispering softly against your lips. "It absolutely is, someone needs to give you that attention you crave so desperately, right?" He softly says, his grin doesn't fade as your lips connect in a kiss, his hand on your face softly caressing your cheeks. After a moment, you pull away for oxygen.

You nod a bit at his question prior to the kiss. "Yes, and I'm so glad it's gonna be you."༉‧₊˚.

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luvfae · 2 years

Note

Could you please do my favorite Henderson with Comedy prompts 1 & 50 and nsfw prompt 11? Thank you☺️😏

MY FAVOURITE

HENDERSON

PART TEN

fandom: stranger things

parings: eddie munson x f henderson reader

warnings: SMUT (it finally happened), oral (eddie receiving), hair pulling, it’s rough, it’s nasty, there’s tears, choking, swearing, mention of drugs/mention of drug use

1: “…so, is that a yes?”

50: “well, that wasn’t on today’s agenda.”

11: “please? i’ll even suck your dick to say thanks.”

masterlist

Getting weed was easy, especially when the local Hawkins High School dealer spent most of his afternoons at your house. So when the opportunity struck and Dustin was no where to be found you cornered Eddie in your little brothers room.

“Do you have any weed?” You asked, flagging around a $20 bill. “And i’ll take the pretty girl discount with that as well,” you smiled, hands clasping together behind your back as you rocked on your feet.

Eddie laughed. “You’re adorable, kitten, truly. But unfortunately I don’t have any on me, it’s all at home,” Eddie said.

“Well then drive home and get it, i’m a paying customer,” you said, looking at him expectantly.

“You’re a paying customer who robs me blind every single time, I wish you weren’t so damn charming,” Eddie said. “And no, i’m not driving home to get it, me and Dustin are busy.”

“Oh c’mon,” you groaned, eyebrows knitting together in frustration. You stepped closer to him, standing in between his legs as he sat on Dustin’s bed, your fingers twirling around a few locks of your hair. “Please? I’ll even suck your dick to say thanks,” you smiled, innocently.

Eddie gulped at your words, staring up at you, for a brief moment he froze. “What is wrong with you?” He asked.

“…So, is that a yes?” You asked.

He watched as your teeth bit down on your bottom lip. “I’ll get my keys,” he said, standing up.

“Yes!” You exclaimed.

About 20 minutes later Eddie was standing in your bedroom, throwing a ziplock bag of your goods onto your bed. You smiled, handing him your $20 bill before grabbing the bag and hiding it inside of your wardrobe for safe keeping.

“Thanks for the 20, but i’d like to claim my real payment now,” Eddie said, his signature smirk creeping on his lips.

You blinked, you didn’t think he’d actually hold you to that, but a deal is a deal. Besides, you wanted to do it. Like really badly.

“Fine, sit on the bed,” you said, quickly tying your hair into a messy ponytail. Eddie was quick to listen to your words and you were quick to drop to your knees in front of him, fingers toying with his belt, quickly unbuckling his pants and dropping them to his ankles.

Your hands began to shake, you were nervous. You had dreamt of this moment, so no amount of nerves would stop you from sucking his dick. At an agonisingly slow rate you pulled his briefs down his legs and pop. His dick was right in front of your face, hard on and all.

“Jesus Christ,” you muttered, taking in his size. You were not expecting for Eddie Munson to have a huge dick, but then again you also were never expecting to be on your knees in front of Eddie Munson. Life works in weird and mysterious ways.

“Don’t just stare at it,” Eddie said, grabbing the back of your head rather aggressively, pushing your face towards him. You gasped, not expecting for that to happen and all of a sudden his dick was down your throat, making you gag. “Suck my dick, just like you promised.”

You slowly moved your head back and forth, your eyes staring up at him. He groaned, looking down at you. Finally this was happening, after months and months of waking up from wet dreams about you. But one thing about Eddie Munson, he hated slow sex. It was rough or nothing. Like we’re talking, hand over mouth, cuffed to the bed, degrading the shit out of you, fucking. Like if you don’t cum within five minutes a bomb is going to detonate and wipe out the entire population kind of fucking.

With that in mind, he grabbed a hand full of your hair, forcing your head to move faster against his throbbing cock. The tip ramming into the back of your throat over and over and over again, making you choke. Tears streaming down your face, your day old mascara dripping down your cheeks, saliva covering your chin.

“Suck it like you fucking mean it,” Eddie said. You hummed, the vibrations making him go crazy. His eyes never left yours and when you looked away from him, he only tugged on your hair harder, using his spare hand to grip your chin and force you to look up at him. “Keep yours eyes on me, sweetheart. I don’t want to miss out on the show.”

You moaned at his words, hollowing out your cheeks, your tongue swirling around his shaft as he continued to ram your face into him.

“Fuck, that feels so good, princess,” Eddie said. “You don’t know how many times i’ve imagined this exact scenario, can’t let it go to waste now can we?”

You continued to suck, now feeling tears dripping down your neck from how much choking was going on. You could barely even catch your breath and Eddie wasn’t being merciful at all.

“I’m gunna cum all over your pretty face, isn’t that right, baby?” He cooed. The estranged noises escaping your throat were muffled by his cock. “Yeah, that’s right,” he said, his fingers loosened around your hair and you could tell he was close because his movements were getting sloppy and his eyelids were fluttering shut.

You pulled away from him, pumping his now sopping wet dick with your hands as he came. Your mouth opening, tongue sticking out, eyes squinting shut. You felt hot ropes of his cum shoot all over your face and Eddie watched the scene in disbelief.

“Jesus- Y/N… I didn’t think you’d actually let me cum all over your face,” Eddie said, panting hard as he came down from his high.

“That’s what you wanted,” you replied, blinking your eyes open. “It’s what you told me to do and i’m a good listener,” you said as you began to wipe his cum from your cheeks and chin, sticking your fingers in your mouth and sucking them dry.

Eddie stared down at you, eyes wide. “God, you are so unbelievably hot,” he groaned.

You stood up, grabbing a tissue from your vanity, cleaning your face up completely. You felt Eddie’s arms snake around your waist, he pressed a kiss against your cheek and you smiled. You spun around in his arms, your lips crashing against his in a heated, passionate kiss.

“Well, that wasn’t on today’s agenda,” Eddie said, clearing his throat once the both of you had pulled away.

You laughed at him, wriggling out of his grip and walking towards your wardrobe to grab out the weed you had hidden fifteen minutes ago. “Wanna get high?” You asked.

#stranger things #netflix #eddie munson #dustin henderson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #my favourite henderson

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bomberqueen17 · 2 months

Text

what is up froods

lol i keep forgetting to like. actually write updates in my personal journal. i'm using this tumblr too much like a tumblr.

i went down a rabbit hole the other night in that i just opened my own archives and went back to 2013 and then realized i started this in 2011. i didn't say a lot, back then i definitely was still using my LJ for Big Personal Updates and Tumblr was exclusively for snappy shitposts, and then I abandoned the LJ and only blogged in snappy shitposts for a while, and I did some vagueblogging that I genuinely have no idea what it was about, and that's fun.

But there's some. Boy there's some real fossils in there. God everything stays the same but everything happens so much.

I know I've backed up this blog but IDK how much you can make it make sense, offline. Anyway. That's how it goes. I'm not in any kind of existential panic about the site I'm just reacting to the zeigeist here, it made me think of old times.

I go back to the farm in a couple of weeks-- just for a couple of weeks, but the Season is Starting. My physical therapist keeps giving me more exercises. She's right, my core strength is wretched, but when I said I'd tried to do crunches now and then, tried to stay a tiny bit fit but-- she was like omg no you can't do crunches, with that hip cartilage as it is, so I felt a little better. So she's teaching me what I *can* do, and the important thing is that she's like you cannot do this more than every other day or three times a week, you cannot rush this kind of thing, and it's wonderful advice contrary to all the other advice I've ever had in my life which was like every moment you're not doing more work you're being a lazy shit. So, that's nice. I'll cut because nothing else here is going to be interesting.

I'm not the youngest person at physical therapy but there's a lot of old people there. I haven't been masking, I've been being lazy and just using xylitol nose spray before I go, and it's been fine, but I know that's just luck. (I see no one but Dude, who sees almost no one but me, so the consequences of fucking up would be minor.) with a trip to the farm coming up, I'm going to go back to masking, at least in the lead-up to the trip-- because last time I had COVID I had almost no symptoms, and nowadays apparently the rapid tests aren't super useful. The way I'm coping is, I know, a logical fallacy-- since COVID wasn't bad the one time I had it, I'm just telling myself I'm resistant naturally and it won't hurt me, and I know this is not the truth at all but it helps me cope-- but I cannot stand the thought of spreading it to someone who would be more hurt by it, so I have convinced myself not to fear catching it but to fear spreading it. I figure it's effectively the same and lets me not just be fucking terrified all the time.

I also discovered that a former employee of the farm who's out here going to college is interested in carpooling, and we've already got a tentative date for him to ride back with me on my way back from the farm at the end of March, and this has lightened my spirits a great deal. It's such a long drive and it feels like such a waste of gas, and he does have a car but it's not actually that safe to drive on the Thruway. (He swears up and down it's perfectly safe but just not at sustained speeds over 60. I was like omg kid do NOT, I will drive, my car is brand fkn new. He's taking the train home and will ride back with me.)

Let's see. Oh I don't think I've kept up with posting about the kitchen painting. It's down to the last tiny fiddly details, and what I've got to do is do a half-stencil in the corner above the door, and I did one half yesterday and will finish the rest today. I had to custom cut out a copy of part of the stencil to make it work, and it's sort of janky and I am going to have to hand-paint it with a lot of masking tape, but it's such a small area that like, why not, I can be that fussy. It's fine.

Once I finish that, which if I do part in the morning and part in the afternoon I can do today, then I can FINALLY CLEAN UP AND PUT AWAY all the painting detritus. I can't tell you how excited I am to do that.

I've also been doing fabric dyeing, finally. I collected several of the muslin garments I'd finished and meant to do something with, and got out my dyes. I did a batch of ice dye solely because I forgot which ones I'd intended to use for that; now I have a pair of slightly ill-fitting homemade leggings that look like a clown threw up on them, and a cheerful sweatshirt to match. i then used the runoff to dye the cream-colored canvas work smock-- I sort of tie-dyed it because I pasted up a little bit of two of the component colors and poured that on a couple areas that I then rubberbanded, because I wanted tie-dye but did not want any white areas left. So it's a blue/purple/red smock now, and the rainbow stitching I constructed it with was polyester so it's still rainbow, huzzah. Subtle and understated and also I can smear it with filth and maybe it will still look intentional.

[image description: a canvas work smock with big pockets, hanging to dry, mostly a mucky dark purple but with some brighter splotches of red and dark blue, and some bits of paler purple.]

[image description: assorted garments draped over drying racks in a sunporch, in blotchy shades of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple, all kind of run together but not murky.]

And then I did another batch of ice dye, this time with the dyes I had bought that are supposed to work well for this because they split. That dress is still in the wash so I don't have pictures of how it turned out, but mostly it just looks splotchy green. LOL oh well. The point was, I made all these test garments in undyed fabric, but I don't have a lifestyle where I can wear a white dress, so now I have some non-white dresses I don't have to be precious about. Some of them I should now probably hem and like actually finish..........

I have one dress and one shirt left, and a pair of light-wash jeans I don't like wearing, and I'm thinking about trying like. Ombre or something. We'll see if I get around to that.

My sewing area is still a fuckin disaster and I don't want to think about it. But I'm cutting out a vest from scrap denim, I want a quilted abrasion-resistant washable work vest for farm work next week and I gotta get a move on. All I need now is to cut out the batting and get to it. So hopefully today.

I took photos, I might try writing up how-tos on the dyeing and on the repurposed denim stuff, but I also might not. If I was doing this again I would probably not bother with the ice, for the rainbow one. We'll see once the properly ice dyed dress comes out of this wash, I can hear the washer spinning but I'm trapped under Chita at the moment.

I missed this week's fic update because I'm progressing so slowly on both current active WIPs. I have a bunch written ahead in both, but each one has the back half of the current chapter just held up waiting for me to write them; I've overcome the structural decisions that delayed me, but I have to just sit and write them. And both of them are complicated scenes I've been waiting to write a long time, so I'm looking forward to writing them, and so like, paradoxically, can't make myself do it. Because once I've done it I'll have done it, see... anyway. Silly but there it is. I'll get through it once I decide I deserve that treat. I know! I know.

#about the author #state of the me

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leohtttbriar · 7 months

Text

not done thinking about the impact of this decision to go back in time, within in the story--the drama, the implications, the existentialist commitment--so i wrote out a possible version of the letter jadzia records for her mother, right before they switch the helm to auto-pilot (metaphorically and actually).

To my mother:

I am sorry--for my incoherence. I normally have a script for this sort of thing, but today the scripts are lost. Maybe because now everything has already been scripted, in an impossible loop. So for this, I’m expressing some unique regrets. This is the message you never hoped you would get--a message you never hoped you would get that you will enjoy far less than that message you never hoped you would get. For that and many other reasons, I am of course sorry. I don't have long. But really, I have so much time and I do not want it. (Actually, I’m sorry for saying that. I want my time in life, I promise. I am sorry for causing you pain.)

Aren’t I just sorry about so many things, now? If I could look at myself from the outside, I would even venture to call myself pathetic. Perhaps that’s what Yedrin sees—the girl who couldn’t save her friend, the girl who couldn’t move on, the girl who is now him, the girl who caused this whole nightmare to begin with.

(I expect the mission briefing being transmitted with all our farewell missives will explain who Yedrin is for you. And what it is I have done.)

The fact is, mother, I am still alive. I am just in a place where you can’t reach me. Time is trapping me, as well as several thousand promises in the shape of people. They want to live and Kira wants them to live so now I will go back to ensure it. I will do what has been reported of their history to ensure that history is written. I will marry Worf and bear countless children and when I do eventually die a generation from now, Dax will go on to another—as is custom. So you see, I am still alive and will remain so long after you read this.

What should I even ask you to mourn, is the question. I’m already mostly absent from your life, at least physically. If I were not to go on this journey back in time, I would still be so far away from you, by so many light-years, that by relative standards we would still be separated by time. Distance is time and time is space—when dealing with quantities like this. Me in a starship, you home… listening to a message I recorded for you a month ago about some organic stone that grows like a plant. (I am sorry, that you have been even for a moment an afterthought to my curiosity. Or maybe I’m not sorry, for still I’ve been gone. Caring more about stones than anything else.) My being on this planet and deliberately stranding myself two hundred years in the past is hardly going to change the status quo, excepting a handful of visits.

Yet, I am sorry. I’m sorry, too, for even trying to pretend like this isn’t the end of something. You will probably not be satisfied to know I’m doing this in service to others. I personally can’t think you selfish for preferring your daughter in the same instantaneous slice of time. But I won’t waver from this, now that it’s decided.

It’s the end of Kira’s life and it is also the end of mine. You’ll accuse me of being dramatic, but I have no intention of labeling this next performance as something as wild and unique and fresh and interesting and fun as life. There’s no real death to it, either—for someday I am will come stumbling down onto this planet again and start this letter to you over once more. Maybe.

Do you remember when I told you about the proto-universe that we had to set back in the wormhole? You said it reminded you of working with delicate coral polyps in your garden, making sure there are enough of them upon each branch, that they are flowering and not crowding, that they are able to eat. That has stayed with me for longer than you know—the image of great dark-energy corals, holding little polyp universes on their colorful bones. And your work, it is something mundane, humble—you’ll call me elitist for saying so—but it’s true. Also true is the fact that I do not wish to do humble work, even if it is beautiful like your garden. I like gardens to stay where I can think about them—in the dark—not where I have to do the digging myself, where the digging is just for planting and not for studying. You’ll say again I’m elitist for drawing that distinction. But my place is in a lab, hitting my head on a fume-hood and taking my time stirring a solution with my glass-stirrer. Because I like the sound it makes against the beaker.

I will think of your coral garden for the rest of my life. I will think of Trill and its amethyst ocean and skies and grass. I will think of my dear father and sister and, of course, you, mother. I hope you will think of me too, doing something different than planting crops: maybe living a life off-planet, discovering a smart fungus that would make father scrunch his nose in distaste…and make you smile.

I would give so many things to return to you. But, alive or not, I am now lost.

I will try to be happy—I have been assured I will find some happiness, even if now it is hard to comprehend. And I’ll play the stone-tossing games, that you taught us when were little, with my own inevitable children. We’ll do what you always showed us how to do. We’ll have a lot of fun.

Your daughter, Jadzia.

#i know first person pov fic is considered cringe but i wanted to write the letter goddamnit #had to work out some thought i had #ds9 #star trek #jadzia dax #children of time

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jackmercerenthuiast · 1 year

Text

☆Number - Jack Mercer x Reader

☆ idc Jack Mercer doesn’t have enough fanfics so I’m here to serve justice.

☆Would recommend listening to ‘You Can Be The Boss’ by Lana Del Rey

Content: Mentions of drugs alcohol, suggestive language, mentions of gang violence

~و✧…彡☆ - btw pretend Jack survived x

彡☆ 2005 19:36PM

‘This job is honestly ass’ I said to my most common customer, and closest friend, Sofi. It was true, I hated my job, it was a fucking shithole, I mean it was a dingy bar in the rough parts of Detroit, a little girl’s dream clearly.

‘Aye (name) don’t be so silly, it pays the bills, and plus, you get a lot of guys working here.’ She wasn’t wrong, I mean it did pay the bills after all but the amount of guys that I didn’t want? Uncountable.

‘I know Sof’, but they’re all ugly most of the time, plus, when they’re that pissed out of their minds, ‘no’ doesn’t compute easy, they got determination I’ll say that. Gets me a few tips I suppose.’ I laughed, cleaning the nearby table where Sofi sat. ‘Speaking of guys, can’t believe you’re seeing that Angel Mercer again!’ I asked, sitting next to her and nudging her shoulder.

‘I don’t like the way you said ‘Again’ but at least I have a man. Though, how old are you now?’ She asked, smiling at the ground when she answered about Angel, absolutely smitten, is the only words I could describe her.

‘Twentyyy... one?’ I questioned myself as I pulled out my ID, just double checking I was actually 21.

‘You really think that checking your ID is going to help? How many fake IDs did you have when you were 17 to get cigarettes?’ Me and Sofi go back to when I was 17 and freshly moved to America, she lived in the apartment next to me and we’d been best friends since she welcomed me into the new apartment.

‘Shut up girl, this is a real one, and I am right I’m 21.’ I laughed, smacking my ID on the table.

‘Okay okay, anywho, Angel has a brother, Jack who’s the same age as you, and he got shot recently, he’s getting out of hospital today and a little birdie told me him and his brothers are coming here in an hour or so to celebrate.’ She suggested, walking over to the bar.

‘Oh yeah? Well from what you’ve told me the birdie is actually quite big.’ I smirk as I pour myself a pint from the tap, Sofi hit me on my arm, telling me to shut up in Spanish. I love Sofi but she loves to overshare about her sex life, but it’s fun to mess with her about it.

…彡☆ 19:54PM

A few moments passed, as me and Sofi just talked about random things, about how crazy it was that Victor Sweet had finally been killed, what Sofi wanted to do career wise etc. When all of a sudden, a bunch of loud men burst through the door, as I recognise a very familiar face.

‘Jerry!’

‘(Name)! What’s goin’ on baby?’ He said as he approached the bar, politely shaking my hand, Jerry was like a big brother to me, always nice and fair.

‘Nothin’ much, your wife know you here? I can call her right now if she don’t.’

‘Nah she knows, I’m truthful to my lady, and seeing as I’m so truthful, can we get a few rounds free?’

I laughed and nodded saying as long as I got tipped I’d give them whatever.

‘Bullshit Jerry, we all keep secrets here.’ A bloke in leather, with a goatee sort of thing going on says, laughing and hitting his back.

‘Man shut the fuck up before I woop yo’ white ass. (Name), these are my brothers Bobby, Jack and Angel, I guess you’re already acquainted with Angel here.’

‘Yeah man, it’s hard not to know who Angel is when all I hear in my apartment is those two getting it on.’ I say, lighting a cigarette whilst directioning my hand to Sofi and Angel.

Then I looked at Jack, and all I thought was ‘Damn he’s fine’.

‘So you lovely ladies want tables or are you gonna keep me company and sit at the bar?’

‘I think the guys are alright with sitting at the bar, right guys?’ Jerry said, asking his brothers, they all nodded and agreed as they took seats at the bar.

‘Can I get a beer?’ The one who I assumed was Bobby, asked.

‘Can you be specific, Guiness? Heineken? A pint? Half-pint? And I don’t know maybe a please?’ I chuckled, directioning to the amount of beers there were to choose from

‘She had you on that one Bobby, she’s very passionate about her alcohol.’ Angel said.

‘And why’s that, you an alcoholic or somethin?’

‘No, I don’t know if you can tell from the accent but it’s just from being English really.’ I could see Jack’s eyebrows raise slightly, he was really cute.

‘Ah, I don’t know man just give me a bottle of Guiness.’

‘Please?’

‘Please.’

…彡☆ 20:20PM

About half an hour passed before I finally talked to Jack, I slid down the bar, making my way to where he sat, leaving the rest of the brothers and Sofi to do whatever.

‘You’re Jack I take it?’

‘Yeah and you’re.. (name)?’

‘Indeed it is, what drink you want Jackie?’

‘I don’t mind really, can I get a cigarette? The hospital wouldn’t let me bring ‘em in.’ He laughed, god damn his laugh. I’ve known this boy for 45 minutes and I’m whipped

‘Yeah sure and I’m sorry to hear that you got shot by the way, you ‘re lucky you survived love.’ I could see him the try to hide the fact me calling him love got a reaction out of him, it’s not particularly uncommon for me to call customers love, but it’s usually older customers, just out of respect, though for him? I just said it to get a reaction.

‘Thanks, how long you been working at the bar?’

‘Not long really, few months? I’ve only been in America for a couple of years, I think four years.’ Passing him a cigarette and a lighter whilst taking a puff of my own.

‘Ah cool, how come you moved?’

‘I don’t know really, I suppose to just be with my mum, seeing as she wanted to just get away.’

‘Your parents split?’

‘Yeah but it was probably the best choice they collectively made.’ I laughed, pouring him a drink.

‘Fair enough, you do anything else other than be the only good-looking bar tender in Detroit?’ Um sir?

‘Don’t flatter me Jackie, but yeah actually, I play the bass here and there.’

…彡☆ Jack POV …彡☆

‘Don’t flatter me Jackie...’ Man, I haven’t even known her that long and I can’t help but want to take her out.

‘Ah bass? That’s cool man, I play the guitar, before I moved back to Detroit I was actually in a band, believe it or not.’ Flicking my cigarette ash in the nearby ashtray, when I had an idea. I asked her for a pen and she handed me the one in her shirt pocket.

‘I certainly believe it, but anywho I can’t concentrate on your pretty face all night, I’ll serve some other customers and I’ll be back soon.’ She said winking at me, I felt my face go so warm, Sofi definitely knew I was going red, and to my misfortune, so did Bobby.

‘Woah Jackie, did the bullet knock the fairy out of you or what?!’

‘Shut up man, you probably haven’t been flirted with in the last 10 years.’

‘Sure fairy whatever you say.’

…彡☆ 22:17PM your pov

‘Okay boys we’re gonna leave now, because for some reason I got designated driver duty so come on! You too Sofi vámanos!’ Jerry yelled, dragging Sofi and Angel by the collars of their shirts, I laughed to myself as all of the brothers continued to leave in a drunken mess, the night was full of brotherly love, teasing and intense flirting between me and Jack, as he had more drinks he got more bold with how he spoke.

I was absolutely whipped, and as Jack left, he gave me a cigarette and said,

‘Don’t light it right away.’ with a drunken but genuine smile, I responded, ‘Don’t worry Jackie I won’t, see you soon.’ and I pecked him on the cheek as I left for the room where I kept my coat to close up my shift, taking the cigarette with me.

Later in the night I was certain there was something I had forgotten to do, and then it hit me, I probably was meant to look at the cigarette or something, and then I thought, ‘Where’s the cigarette?’, and I trudged to my sofa and grabbed my coat, luckily the cig was still in my pocket.

I twizzled it in my fingers, when I saw numbers written on one side, and a note saying, ‘Call me - Jackie’ with a heart next to it on the other, that smooth motherfucker. I unravelled the cigarette, putting the nicotine in a spare pouch and attached the note to my fridge with a magnet with the intentions to call him in the morning.

…彡☆ The End!

Please let me know if you liked this, if so I might write a part 2 to it or just continue to write Jack mercer fics seeing as there just aren’t enough! Love ya x

#jack mercer #four brothers #four brothers (2005)#jack mercer x reader

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wisteria-cherry · 9 months

Text

forty days and forty nights (day nine!)

(woahh day nine look at us go!!)

(read them all here!)

the next day at work, which was a saturday, you found yourself especially looking forward to bakugo’s appearance. you felt like you’d become friends with him— real, actual friends— after going to the party with him and kirishima. it was incredibly exciting.

you didn’t have many friends. it’s not like you minded; you liked being able to make your own plans and have time to yourself. but you were always accepting of new friends, particularly those that were your age— most of your current friends (more like close acquaintances) were twice as old as you, maybe even three or four times. so when you got home last night from the party, you were positively glowing, a rush of excitement washing over you (it helped that all of your new friends seemed like the type who were incredibly popular in high school; the kind of people everyone wanted to be around. and pro heroes. that helped too.) mina had actually texted you, asking you to hang out the following wednesday, which you happily agreed to.

you were snapped out of your thoughts by the familiar chime of the sweet little bells that announced the arrival of a customer. bakugo was grumbling, rubbing the bridge of his nose as he entered.

“are you doing alright?” you asked, already ringing him up.

“just fuckin’ exhausted.” he muttered. “make it a large today.”

“okay.” you hum, voiding the transaction and finding it the tiniest bit irksome that the one day you don’t ask for his order is the one day he changes it. you quickly brushed the feeling away. what a dumb thing to be irked by. “go ahead and sit down, it’ll be right out.” bakugo grunted an annoyed “don’t tell me what to do”, but obliged.

“is it from the party last night?” you ask as you hand him his coffee, which he promptly takes a drink from.

“yeah. those fuckers wouldn’t shut up in the group chat after it was over.” bakugo tched.

“ah, they must have kept you up, then.” you said sympathetically.

“no shit.”

“hey, speaking of, is mina a pro hero, too?”

“yeah.”

“what’s hero hero name? and her quirk?” you pressed.

“her quirk’s acid, and her hero name’s pinky.” he answered somewhat reluctantly.

“so do you call all your friends by their hero names?” you immediately regretted asking. after all, bakugo called kirishima shitty hair.

“hell no.” bakugo scoffed. “i called her pinky in high school and she made it her damn hero name after her first pick was rejected.”

“what was her first pick?” you ask curiously.

“alien queen or some dumb shit like that.”

“was dynamight your first pick?”

“no. they rejected my first two.” bakugo scowled, recalling the memory darkly.

“what were they?”

“lord explosion murder and king explosion murder.” you stared at him, dumbfounded.

it sounds exactly like your current one!! you wanted to scream, but you were too busy holding in your laughter.

“if you laugh, i’ll kill you.” bakugo hissed.

“i’m— i’m not laughing.” you managed to say between gasps, holding your hand to your mouth to block any sounds from coming out.

“i can see your shoulders shaking!” bakugo shouted.

“they’re not!” you didn’t even try to make your lie sound convincing.

“yes they are!”

“okay, okay, changing the subject now,” you snickered. “where did you go to high school?”

“hah?” bakugo seemed almost offended that you didn’t know what high school he went to. “ua. the best hero school.”

“i went to middle school with someone who went there, i think.” you mused airily. bakugo narrowed his eyes.

“who?”

“his name was monoma. neito monoma?” you guessed, not quite knowing his full name. bakugo immediately looked irked.

“that asshole…” he seethed.

“yeah, he had an ego to him.” you reminisced. “but there was this girl who always managed to subdue him.”

“they were annoying as fuck. they were in class b.” he spat.

“were you in class b?”

“hell no!” bakugo seemed offended at this also. “i was in class a. the best.”

“ahh, right.” you nodded as though this were obvious from the start.

“shut up.” bakugo grumbled, taking another sip of his coffee.

“so how was work?” you decide to change the subject. you were having to do this an awful lot today, you noticed. he seemed especially grumpy.

“tiring as shit.” he tched.

“did you get any villains?” you smiled. you figured that if he was feeling down, an ego boost would make him feel better. he looked up from his coffee. you had him hooked.

“…yeah.” he answered. “yeah, i did.”

“how many?” now he grinned that vicious grin of his that could, frankly, be borderline sadistic.

“twelve. beat their asses. they didn’t even stand a chance.” he boasted.

“obviously.” you smiled, leaning against the counter, “because you’re the number one hero.”

“you’re damn right i am.” bakugo smirked. “one of ‘em tried to flee like a little bitch when he found out i was gonna beat his ass.”

“did he really?” you laugh. “you’ve got quite the reputation, then.”

“damn right i do.” you found yourself smiling as bakugo answered. sure, his ego was more blown up than the villains he’d encountered today, but you were happy he was at least feeling better. “i’m number one, ain’t i?”

“that you are.” you confirm. bakugo downed the rest of his coffee.

“yeah, well, i’ve gotta go.” he stood up. he narrowed his eyes and looked away, scowling. “thanks for the coffee, i guess.”

ah, he thanked you.

“of— of course.” you stammer, not expecting him to actually thank you but recovering quickly nonetheless.

“yeah, whatever.” bakugo turned to leave, then looked back at you briefly. he didn’t say a word, but you smiled and waved. he scoffed, looking annoyed. but he waved back, and you could see the barest trace of a smile tugging at his lips.

“are you doing alright?”

“just fuckin’ exhausted.”

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tags: @k0z3me @cherryblossomclarity

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bakugo katsuki #bakugo x reader #bakugou #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha #katsuki bakugo oneshot #mha #bnha oneshots #coffee shop au #pro hero bakugo x reader #bakugo slow burn

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