#saccharin tastes fine but not great

[princessflaw]

sucralose is sooo nasty why is it so popular

[pinkmirth]

⸻ 𝒢ℒ𝒰𝒯𝒯𝒪𝒩𝒪𝒰𝒮!

↶*ೃ 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝓃𝒶𝓊ℊ𝒽𝓉𝓎 '𝓁𝒾𝓁 𝓃𝓎𝓂𝓅𝒽ℴ! ˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮ℐ𝒮 ༉‧₊˚. it takes reiner his all to keep up with his horny little vixen of a girlfriend.

𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜ℐ𝒩𝒮༉‧₊˚. (7.2k words of . . . ) reiner braun x fem!reader (black coded), nsfw/smut, modern college au, brat tamer!reiner, bratty!reader, feminine “girly-girl” reader, established relationship, themes of coercion, reader has a high libido, switch!reader, size kink, grinding, dry-humping, make-out session, f!masturbation, panty ripping, spanking (only once), finger-sucking, fingering, oral (m!receiving), deepthroating, floor sex, mating press, reiner being a tiny bit aggressive (but affectionately!!!), soft dom!reiner, use of pet names (honey, love, baby, darling), explicit language, minors shoo!

ℐ𝒩𝒮𝒫𝒪 𝒯ℛ𝒜𝒞𝒦 — loveeeeeee song; rihanna, future

𝓂𝓎 𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓉𝓁ℯ 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ 𝓁ℯ𝓉𝓉ℯ𝓇 . . . this is extremely self indulgent!!! all i want is for reiner to put me in my place and tell me what to do >< a girl can dream! ♡︎

It’s 12:06 AM. The clock ticks and Reiner sighs.

He incessantly shifts in his desk chair, being held in the confines of his quaint home office. Reiner glares at the laptop before him with great disinterest. The screen casts a dull lighting over his sharp features. 

If there were anything capable of completing this damned project for him, he wouldn’t be so high-strung. He sucks in air through his teeth before letting out a weary exhale. 

All it takes is the sudden clicking of a doorknob to tear him away from his thoughts. 

He turns to be met with the sight of you emerging from your room, pedicured feet carrying you across the carpeted floors of your shared apartment. He pulls away from the MacBook’s screen, chair creaking under his weight as he swivels around to face you.

Reiner can’t help himself from hungrily examining your scanty attire— adorned in a smooth, silken nightdress. The soft pink gown you wear has the thinnest straps, and the most revealing design. It’s noticeably short, with the laced hem stopping precisely at your upper thigh, neckline dipping real low. Your supple skin and bouncy cleavage lay bare to your boyfriend’s piercing eyes. 

A faint smell of sugar is detected in the air. Reiner indulges in the familiar saccharine scent of your favorite perfume as you approach him. You rotate his chair to completely face you, assertively dropping onto his lap. Amused, he allows your hands to rub along his broad shoulders. Lowering your lips to the shell of his ear, you whisper. “Hi, Rei.” 

His strong arms envelop your waist as an instant reaction. Reiner can feel his tensive mood lessen under your sparing touch. The warmth of your presence filters into his senses as you lazily circle your arms around him.

Reiner makes sure to greet you with a soft peck, as always. He briefly licks his lips after. You taste of strawberry gloss. “My love,” He responds, words gentle and doting when he calls out to you. He puts on a small smile, but it’s all too easy to detect the gravelly detail of exhaustion in his deep voice.

“You tired, hm? My poor baby,” you softly murmur, hands running through his sandy blonde hair and tousling it between your fingers. He releases a content hum as your nails stroke his scalp. “I’m fine, ‘hon.” Reiner insists, “I just… wish I could take my mind off this.” 

You peer down at him through wispy lashes. “Do you need a distraction?” arousal produces a sweet drawl in your words. Your lips curl up to form the sultriest of smiles. He can read your indecent intentions with little effort.

Your touch runs down his body, ruffling over the olive green sweatshirt he has on. It’s a shame, how the fabric conceals his sculpted muscles. Your hand trails along his deliciously firm biceps while the other settles on his broad chest. He finds comfort in the way your filed nails repetitively graze against his collarbone. 

How cunning you are, trying to coax and flatter him into bed! Especially when you know just how hard it is for him to refuse you. Reiner searches for a suitable answer. Admittedly, he'd much rather allow you to whisk him away, despite his responsibilities that condemn the thought. 

“Don’t tell me you’re preoccupied…” You make a glossy pout, since it always works in breaking him. Though, he seems to have worn a thicker armor of refrain tonight. One that isn’t as flexible to your vixenish schemes and bratty tendencies. 

“You know I am, love.” Reiner sighs. He wants more than anything to please you. It’s all he ever does and the only thing he yearns to do. But there comes a time where he has to put his foot down. 

“I’m busy,” he emphasizes. It sounds more like he’s trying to convince himself instead of you. Sure, he’s occupied, but that shouldn’t matter. He can tell that you need him, can’t he? Badly, too. Your boyfriend should know that resisting you is futile.

You deftly roll your eyes before he brings his palm to warmly cup your soft cheek. “You get that, right honey?” He wants you to look him in the face and understand the words coming out of his mouth. No use in that— You’re probably only thinking of all the ways he could be using it to eat you out. 

“Reiner, baby… c’mon.” You shift your weight onto his lap, slow-grinding with the most subtle rock of your hips. He knows you to be unpredictable, and he’s fond of it; you keep him on his toes. But this? It’s sly and abrupt, enough to make his breath catch in his throat. His low grunt spills into your ear as he instinctively bucks upward.

Reiner should be used to your teasing by now, especially considering that he’s been your boyfriend of well-over two years. Yet, the apples of his cheeks bloom a faint red as if the way you move atop his body is a foreign feeling. You giggle when he averts his hazel eyes and looks fixedly elsewhere. 

Again, you roll in slow circles to friction against him, and he unsteadily whimpers your name. “You’re so hard,” you tease him with a dulcet laugh. Reiner furrows his thin brows, flustered. He can feel his blood rushedly streaming south. 

“I make you that excited?” Look at you, asking as if you don’t know the answer. Reiner wants to scoff. You know good and well of the dire effect you have on your man. 

He gives in, just for a moment, to grasp at your waist with newfound fervor, holding you down and guiding your body with sturdy hands. He directs the way your hips gyrate, dragging you over his erection. Your breath hitches, clinging at his broad shoulders.

“Fuck. You know what you do to me,” He breathes out, slightly tossing his head back onto the headrest. You take the opportunity to close in on his exposed neck. He smells rich and earthy, like that of sandalwood. Reiner basks in the eagerness of your messy kisses, gloss and saliva lingering on the column of his throat. 

“Come to the room, Reiner.” You murmur against his jugular, nipping until the taste of his skin settles upon the tip of your tongue. The seat creaks when the both of you shift and adjust yourselves, grinding into each other with bated breath. You lift your head to stare into his darkened gaze, making another effort to persuade him. “I know you want to.”

Boldly tilting forward, you initiate a daring kiss. Your lips sweetly move against Reiner’s, but there’s an unabashed fire upon your tongue as it darts into his mouth. You openly moan against his lips, and the enticing sound of your voice gets him harder. Reiner digs his fingers into your waist, eyes screwed shut. Groans tumble deep from his throat in the form of lowly ‘oh’s, and the bristly facial hair on his jaw prickles your skin. 

Reiner only now begins to register how your breasts squish against him, nipples rigid from under your nightgown and brushing at his chest. The warm press of your cunt rests atop his growing hard-on. He’d try to maintain the grain of resolve he has left, but with his cock prodding at your underside, it’s evident that he’s too far gone. You can feel him twitching beneath the soft cotton of your thin panties.

“I— shit, want you so bad…” his words tremble. See what you’ve done! Now he’s all wired up. You can tell by the way he holds your sides with an edgy grip. He pulls you in tighter, wants you immeasurably closer. Reiner can feel your heartbeat vigorously pumping in tandem with his. 

“Then fuck me.” you spur him on, dipping your head to connect with him once more. Tensions inflame between you as the kiss builds. Reiner tries to still the fleeting jerk of his hips, using everything in his power to resist your sugary lips and break away. He opens his mouth to respond, only to make a hesitant pause. Whatever he’s about to say, you know he doesn’t fucking mean it. The way his boner’s nudging at the plush of your ass says otherwise. 

“Can’t, baby.” He finalizes. You huff, grabbing his sleeves and tugging at the cloth. “You don’t want to?” Your lips look plump and sore, prettily bruised from obscene kisses.

“I never said that…” He lowly whines against your lips, dropping his head to rest along the junction of your neck. Of course he wants to. He’d much rather make you cum like it’s all he’s good for instead of wasting another moment at this damned desk. 

He then recalls the countless times he’s supplied your every desire without question. It brings him to realize that he truly has spoiled you, his sweet girl, nastily rotten. Though Reiner loves to provide for you in any way he can, he chooses to exercise discipline today. He thinks this’ll teach you some sort of lesson concerning patience and self-control. As if. Realistically, he’s merely punishing himself by desisting pleasure. 

You give him another fluid roll of your hips, but he stills you with an iron grip. His resolve’s firmer than it was mere minutes ago. “Hey.” Reiner shoots you a pleading look, but you know that it’s more of a warning. His soft dominance comes in the form of a heavy quiet, one which shows itself every so often. Particularly when you go out of your way to tip him over the brink. 

He’s made it clear that he won’t budge. You make an attempt to distance yourself, retracting your arms from around his neck to cross them over your chest, boobs pushing up with the motion. He pulls you back into his chest, to which you respond with a vexed ‘hmph’, subtly scrunching your face. Just how much could you possibly turn him on in one sitting alone? You’ll be the end of him, he’s sure of it.

Reiner softens his expression, rubbing at your sides. “Hey— look at me.” reluctantly, your eyes meet his. He just can’t seem to tug away from your heavy-lidded gaze. “Tell you what, darlin’,” he announces, offering you a compromise. “Once I finish this up, I’m yours for the rest of the night. M’kay?” 

You don’t like the terms of his little deal. It’s selfish, and you know it is, but you want him now. 

“Hm.” With a hum, you tap your fingers along his shoulder, barely agreeing. “No harm in waiting, yeah?” 

To that, you exaggeratedly sigh. ‘You’ll be fine, you big baby.’ Reiner thinks. 

You eventually release him, pressing a kiss to his scruffy jaw. He’s quick to return it, skimming his lips across yours in a chaste peck. He can feel your sensual grin spread against his mouth before you break away, like you’ve got a naughty little plan that he's yet to know about.

You descend off his lap, peering at his obvious boner with a silent giggle. Is he even sure he’d be able to wait a moment longer before sleeping with you? ‘Cause it looks like his pants have become much too tight. You’ve truly made a mess out of him.

Before stepping back to the room you appeared from, you send him a look with those alluring eyes of yours. There’s a glint of mischief; something tantalizing that lies within your irises.

“Don’t worry, Rei.” You call out to him in your pretty, tempting voice. With lithe fingers, you lift the ends of your short sleeping dress to reveal the tiny panties that lie beneath, giving him just a snippet of what he’d be missing. 

Reiner’s glance catches onto the lips of your pussy, hidden behind cloth. He bets it’s fucking soaked. Just as he thought, there’s a puddle of slick wetting the cotton material. His need for you begins to show itself all over again. You can see it in the way his Adam's apple bobs. 

All you do is smile at his reaction. “I’ll just help myself.” 

It's been a good chunk of time, about fifteen minutes since you disappeared into your room. You most certainly meant what you said about ‘helping yourself’…

“Oh—!” Moans spill into the corridor. And fuck, is it loud. You didn’t close the door to your room, and for good reason. You want him to catch wind of every little thing you’re doing without him. 

Reiner tries to keep his focus aimed at the computer screen, but he just can’t. Especially not under such conditions. He’s already sporting a raging hard-on, which he meekly brings a hand down to rub out every now and again. That isn’t even the biggest problem— there’s you, located a few doors down, intentionally making as much noise as you can. 

Reiner prods his tongue at his inner cheek. He knows exactly what’s going on. If you can’t have his attention, then that stupid fucking project of his wouldn’t be getting it either. 

“Mm, fuck!” Another cry of ecstasy reaches his ears, and his blush-tinged cheeks continue to burn even further. The harsh squelch emitting from the room tells him all he wants to know; you're plunging your fingers into your wet little pussy as deep as you can get it to go, but it’ll never be able to stretch you out as well as his thick digits. 

‘That fucking wet, huh?’  Reiner muses. His desire to be there with you is stronger than his will to breathe. The throb of his cock feels like it’s pounding heavier than the beat of his very own heart.

Funnily enough, he thought that you’d hardly be able to carry on without him there; now you’re the one enjoying yourself while he suffers in horny solitude. In all honesty, Reiner’s just barely holding out, and his resolve has thinned down to the mere size of a thread. He hadn’t considered the fact that you’re his weakness. 

Nine times out of ten, Reiner’s a man of his word. He sticks to what he says and hardly ever diverts from it. But at this moment, you’re giving him no choice. The only options you’ve proposed are for him to comply, or endure torture. It truly is complete and utter torture, to hear you getting yourself off when he could’ve been the one stripping you down and making you scream. 

 He wants to give himself a slap in the face for denying you— if not for him, you probably would’ve been cumming on his face right now, or bouncing on his cock in the way that he liked. Hell, he might’ve even gone about punishing you for teasing him on this very chair. 

Maybe he should’ve just come to the fucking room.

“Makin’ a scene, huh?” Reiner mumbles, palming his clothed dick. “Well, it worked.”

Your voice continues to ring aloud in the atmosphere. He’s physically incapable of ignoring the problem that lies beneath his pants. To be specific, the problem that you created, and he’s sure you’ll be eager to help him fix it. 

Reiner peers at the time before pushing his laptop closed and neglecting his assignment. It’s 12:49 AM when he finally decides to give in to you. He rises from his seat to follow the luring string of moans. 

He’s near. You can hear it, feel it. Every dull footstep means he’s closing in, aching to fuck you. Reiner’s giving up early on, and it’s much quicker than you thought he would. But you certainly don’t mind. You swipe your clit and tremble with anticipation, awaiting his presence.

You lie on your back, splayed across cream white bamboo sheets of the king-sized bed that you and him share. You wait not-so-patiently for him to enter and be met with the sight of your manicured fingers toying around inside your pussy.

It didn’t take long for you to get what you wanted. Reiner comes strolling in, leaning his bulky frame against the doorway. His chest heaves slowly. There’s yearning behind every deep breath he takes. He’s hot and bothered; it shows with the blooming pink tint of arousal that’s spread across his cheekbones and nose bridge. 

You’re all on display, from the roundness of your breasts beneath your skimpy nightgown as your chest rises and falls, to the clenching wetness of your cunt, panties pulled aside for access. There’s not a thing left to his dirty imagination.

Your eyes trail down to meet the suggestive bulge that strains against his baggy gray sweats. It’s definitely grown since before. Reiner looks borderline feral, ready to pounce and eat you alive. But he plainly stands, drinking in the view of your sightly body with glowering eyes. You wonder when he’ll finally jump in for a taste.

“Aw,” You breathily coo at him, sitting up on your elbows. He watches your tits sway with the motion. “You just couldn’t stay away, could you?” your light and mocking tone makes his dick twitch. 

“Looks like you’re havin’ fun…” Reiner mutters. It’s almost cute, how wound up he is. “Would be better if you joined in.” you suggest. “Are you gonna help me out while you’re here? Or did you only come to watch?” Still running your mouth, huh... You really do know how to push him to the edge. 

“C’mere.” Reiner beckons you towards him with the gesturing movement of his finger. His voice is low and domineering, it makes you want to listen. So you do, lifting yourself off the bed and doing just as he wishes. 

It seems that Reiner’s forgotten of all his good-boy behavior, and his sense of responsibility’s flown out the window. He’s quick to smash his mouth to yours, resuming the fervid kiss from before. He cradles the back of your head and pushes you deeper into the warmth of his lips. Bringing his unoccupied arm to loop around your waist, he tugs you in. 

You melt into his large and imposing frame, grabbing at his shirt within your fisted hands. “Reiner,” you separate from his enthusiasm, needing a gulp of air. Thin slivers of spit connect him to your sheen lips. 

“Heard you tryin’ to fuck yourself while I was gone,” Reiner whispers, hands snaking down to your butt. He shamelessly grabs your doughy ass in his rough hands, kneading the fatty flesh before giving it a nice, hard spank. You moan upon contact. He’s entirely sure you throbbed over that. 

“It wasn't enough, was it baby?” He shakes his head and you mindlessly mimic him, doing the same. “I’m here now. ‘Lemme satisfy you,” he plants a brief kiss at the surface of your neck before laying you down upon the wooly surface of the floor’s rug, kneeling to slot himself between your legs.

He brings his hand to your face, thumb resting at your plush bottom lip. You instantly know what to do, encasing his fingers into your mouth. “Bein’ such a good girl,” he praises, pushing down on your tongue with the pads of his fingers. You lick at his digits with a soft moan, lapping them in saliva as you grip onto his wrist. 

His middle and forefinger leaves your mouth with a wet pop. Reiner’s hands find their place at your sides, caressing the curvature of your hips. He hooks his pointer finger into your panties, pulling them further aside; just before he determines that you won't be needing them. And with that, Reiner’s abruptly tearing them off, ripping the cloth with the ease of one effortless tug. The fabric feathers apart against your skin. 

You can’t help but laugh in total shock, the ruined cloth tickling your hips. “Reiner!” All he does is a shrug, slipping the remains of your panties out from under your ass and tossing them elsewhere. “They were gettin’ in the way.” he clarifies. The pads of his fingers can now properly trace your slick pussy lips, and he drags his touch just above your engorged clit. 

You mewl when he strokes the nub in tight circles, jerking underneath his touch. Reiner can tell that you’re especially sensitive. With raised brows, he asks, “You already came?” He's given your immediate nod in reply. Reiner brings a hand to his heart, feigning offense. “Without me, baby?”

“Why’re you surprised? Told you I’d handle myself,” you say all matter-of-factly, gazing up at him from where you lay. He dryly chuckles, almost taken aback. “And I told you that I would be here soon, didn’t I?” he queries. You suppress a shudder whenever he makes contact with your over-stimmed bud. 

Patience is a virtue that you haven't yet learned. Reiner would normally take it slow and savor your taste, but all he has in mind is to teach you a valuable lesson– when he tells you to wait for him, you wait. 

Or, you just can deal with the outcome of defying him. That seems all the more fitting for a minx like you.

“Guess that means you’re gonna have to come again,” He decides, “Give me another.” To that, you whine. “But Rei! I already stretched myself out for you!” 

“With your fingers?” you nod when he asks you. “Hm. Not enough.” aiming to convince him otherwise, you spread your legs wider apart and reveal your gaping hole to his sharp stare. 

You drip with glassy cum, and he wants nothing more than to dive in face first, completely ravage all of your beautiful being, and eat away at that attitude of yours until you forget your own fucking name. Somehow, he finds a way to ground himself and stay on course. You can see it's a struggle for him to do so. He’d already be whipping his dick out if he wasn't trying to discipline you. 

“Doesn’t matter. You’re gonna take what I give you. Right, baby?” he hums in question, rolling his lengthy sleeves up to his elbows. Your eyes trail along the expanse of his thick forearms. Taking your nod as a green light, Reiner delves three large fingers into you and sets a dangerous pace. His starting thrusts are fast and fluid. “Fuck, Reiner!” you cry out, clawing at his wrist. 

“Uh-uh,” He tuts, bringing his hand up to your face to playfully squeeze your cheeks. Your lips jut out cutely, and he grins. “I ain't stopping until you come.” He makes himself clear. “Understand?” 

“Mhm– u-understood.” you shakily comply, voice muffled. He releases your face, momentarily dipping low to peck your lips. “Good. That’s good.” He continues plunging into your core, every thrust bringing about a lewd squelch. “So sorry I held out on you, baby…” Reiner mumbles. “M’gonna make it up to you, okay?” The way he’s stroking your insides is the best apology you could think of. 

Reiner knows just how to work your body, almost too well. With swift motions, he skillfully curls his fingers up, nudging into an area that makes you writhe. “Found it,” he unconsciously whispers. 

After locating your sweet spot, he doesn’t relent. His flicking wrist allows him to push in faster, and the repetitive prodding of his thick digits gets you shaking. Your breath comes out in disarrayed puffs as you clamp down on his digits, hard, to the point where he can hardly move. It’s like a plea for him to remain inside. 

“— So fuckin’ tight…” he curses, teeth grit. “Just relax, baby.” Reiner calms you with his low tone, despite being knuckle-deep as your pussy draws him in. He struggles against your tight pink walls to pull out. Your stretched hole pulses around an empty nothingness where his fingers once were. You’re throbbing so much for him; the sight could almost make him cum in his pants. 

Reiner drags his touch down your gaping slit, gathering your wetness and smearing it over your puffy bud. He takes pleasure in the way your eyes roll back. You jerk underneath the pressure he applies, legs closing in and trapping his hand between them. 

“Keep ‘em open.” He exerts the slightest bit of strength to pry you apart by the thighs, proceeding with his attack on your clit. He notices the way you convulse, like you’re bound to crumble apart at any given moment. “R-Reiner,” you brokenly wail. “M’gonna—!” You aren’t in the right mind to speak. Just as he said earlier on, all you can do is take what he gives you.

“I know, baby.” He rubs you out with drenched fingers, “Want you to make a fuckin’ mess for me. C’mon.” and with that, plus a final of quick strokes at your bundle of nerves, Reiner prompts your disorienting climax. Your long nails dig into the flesh of his forearm, vision spotted white. Your orgasm’s powerful and he rides you through every lasting second of it. 

“That’s it… you did so good, baby.” he mutters, pouring sweet nothing into your ear like you can even register what he’s saying. You don’t even notice the drool slipping past the corner of your own lips, or the tears pricking your eyes. All with the work of his calloused fingers, he’s thoroughly ruined you. Thing is, he isn’t even halfway done.

Reiner leans down and scatters the lightest of butterfly kisses across your cheek, your neck, your shoulder; anywhere he can reach. He calls out to you by your name, trying to reel you back into consciousness with a pinch on your side. You squirm, and he airily chuckles. “There she is.”

You regain yourself, maneuvering up to rest on your knees. “Rei,” you sit before Reiner, mirroring him. Your delicate touch reaches for his crotch. His cock jumps when you grip him through his sweats. You speak soft and hushedly, the form of a weary whisper, “I want all of you.” 

Despite being completely spent, you swear that you’re ready for more. Reiner doubts that you are. But you’ve begged him for so long, he might as well deliver.

“I was gonna get to that,” he habitually tilts his head to the left, grabbing onto the hem of his sweatshirt. “but you just can’t wait, can you?” The olive-green top is pulled off, thrown into an obscure corner of the room. Right after, he begins to make quick work of his pants until they’re strewn away, dirtying the floor with his small heap of clothes.

Reiner grabs at the band of his briefs, about to rid himself of the final obstacle— until your hand skims over his. “Let me,” you say, breathless. With a brisk nod, he allows you. It’s intimate, how you strip him, with your hand resting at his shoulder while the other tugs down his waistband, eyes locking onto him throughout it all. Reiner lifts his hips, giving you access to peel away the underwear. You slide it past his thick, firm thighs until he’s kicking them off his ankles.

He feels your eyes trained on him, burning into his warm ivory skin. You run your gaze across the broad expanse of his athletic body, scrutinizing the subtle flexure of his muscles, from his pecs to his toned stomach. Aiming your stare downwards leads you straight to the obscene sight of his girthy dick, hanging between his legs and seizing all your attention. It lewdly bobs under its own weight, reddened tip gleaming with a sheen coat of precum. His balls hang beneath, heavy and throbbing. 

“So big,” you haphazardly mumble. His face goes flush when you reach forward, encircling your dainty hand around the shaft and watching him twitch in your hold. You can’t even wrap it all the way around. “Shit,” Reiner swears. You giggle over the way his hips jolt. 

Considering how eager you’ve been, Reiner hadn’t been expecting you to bring your head down to level, enveloping his pinkish tip into your pliant mouth. He never would’ve thought that you’d have time to swallow his dick. Though, he can’t complain, not with how well you suckle on his cockhead and stroke the rest, smearing him in your spit. 

With a hand resting at the back of your head, Reiner begins to propel his hips forward, slowly bucking into your mouth. He loves how your lips stretch around the width of his cock, adoring the way you elicit gags when being pushed down little by little until you reach his base. Your tongue swipes along a protruding vein, wracking a shudder through him.

It’s when you moan around his shaft and look up at him with those glimmering eyes that he knows he’ll end up spouting cum all over your tongue if this goes on. Reiner can’t take much more of this. He needs you to encompass him, wrap around him, suck him in… he has to feel you. At least before he loses his mind over the wait.

He guides you off, releasing himself from the wet suction of your lips. “I have to fuck you,” Reiner heaves desperately, “Now.” He flips up the satiny material of your sleeping gown and hastily tosses it over your head, making sure to smooth down your hair after. Once again, he expertly maneuvers you onto your back. 

Your hands lie beside your head, the shaggy carpet brushing softly against your shoulder blades. Reiner scoots in close, lifting your legs up and hitching them up on his wide shoulders. He rubs along your calves before directing his touch downwards to meet your core. 

With a gentle stroke down your slit and light brushes against your folds, he’s thumbing you open. You’re slick and clenching, just for him. “Such a pretty little pussy,” he sounds awestruck, like he wasn’t just stuffing you with his middle, ring and pointer only minutes ago. 

Reiner takes hold of his cock, circling around the tip with a sigh. He generously pumps himself before lining up with you, tapping at your clit just to mess with you a little. That brings about the restless wiggle of your hips. 

“Ugh, Reiner!” you whine. He always likes to play the tease, even when the situation doesn’t permit him to. With your legs still placed up where he put them, you sway and kick your feet around, movement rapid above his head. “Put it in already—!”

“I will.” Reiner smacks his teeth. He’d usually ask nicely for you to behave. This time, he’ll make you. He holds you still, done easily with a simple grip on your ankle. It’s painless, but firm enough to get you to straighten up. “So fuckin’ needy.”

Reiner grabs onto your legs and pushes them back, until your painted toes dangle above your own head. “It’ll go deeper this way.” Reiner assures. He keeps you there, palms pressing into the bottom of your thighs to pin you against yourself. “You can take it like this, yeah? All folded up for me?” 

“I can take it, Rei. I promise,” is your eager response. He flashes a seductive smile. “Oh, darlin’… I know you can.”  Reiner hovers over you, positioning himself in a way that makes his cockhead bump into your pearly nub. He squats low and leans forward, to the point where he’s resting his weight onto you. It’s suffocating in the best way imaginable. You savor every moment of his body compressing yours.

At long last, Reiner gives what you’ve begged him for since midnight. With one smooth thrust forward, he’s plunged himself into your weeping pussy. It forces the air out of your lungs. “Oh— fuck,” you breathe out so lightly, Reiner can hardly hear it. He pushes his cock in further, groaning as he does so. You accommodate him and adapt to the gradual stretch.

Your tight cunt envelops him, clenching around every inch that he has to offer. You gaze up at Reiner with the prettiest set of lust-blown eyes. He pulls back before pressing forward, until his weighty balls are nestled at the hilt. He peers down to where you connect, attentively watching how you swallow him in. 

“It’s deep, baby?” Reiner damn well knows that he’s pushing at your cervix and resting in your guts. He just wants to get a kick out of your answer. “So deep.” You gasp. Shiny tears are brimming at your eyes again. He follows a pattern of drawing out, only partially, just to slam back in. Your body lurches with every knock of his sturdy hips. 

Before long, Reiner’s created a steady, pleasurable rhythm. His pelvis claps into yours and grinds at your clit, all as he delves his girth into the wet cavern of your sopping pussy. You cry out for him every single time. “R-Rei!” you stammer when he fucks into you with such zeal. He’s only just begun, and you’re already on the verge of sobbing. “Harder,” You plead. 

And so, he listens. Reiner swiftly rocks into your warmth, flooding with arousal. His motions come on heavier as he puts his weight behind his rapid thrusts. “You want it all the goddamn time,” he grunts, jaw clenched. “Am I that good, baby? Can't get enough of me?”

“S— so good to me!” you mewl, bottom lip trapped under your teeth. You grab for him in hopes of reaching whatever you can, until your hands meet his tensed biceps. The ends of your nails skim his muscles, and he lets out a low hiss. 

An especially rough thrust tugs a cry out of you. “Reiner, please!” You find yourself begging, unsure of what. All you know is that it’s too much for you to handle. His unrelenting pace has you struggling for the slightest granule of air you can muster to breathe in. 

You scramble to push at Reiner’s abdomen, a measly attempt at slowing him down. He doesn’t give at all— you're only inducing him to go faster. “Uh-uh, baby. None of that,” deep-reaching thrusts punctuating his every word, “Thought you promised that y’could take me… Was that a lie?” he snarks. 

“No, I— fuck!” it’s brutal, the way his dick slides in and nudges against your womb. You writhe underneath him, but the weight of his bulky body holds you down. “Don’t you dare fuckin’ run from me. You’ve been begging for it all night,” Reiner warningly seethes. “So take it.”

He fucks you with reckless abandon, working his way in and out of your slippery pussy. By the end of this, he wants you molded into the very shape of him, to have his fat cock leave an imprint on your walls. There’s a mess of dripping slick that soils your inner thighs and runs down his slapping balls.

Reiner takes just a second or two to simply relish in the moment, basking in how tight you’re squeezing him. He takes a mental picture, storing the detailed intimacy of this scenario into a back pocket of his mind. Reiner studies the way you prettily lie beneath him, lips agape. Your tits bounce in tandem with his every move. 

“You’re gorgeous, baby.” he lets out a soft groan. “You look so fuckin’ pretty like this.” Reiner’s face is mere inches apart from yours, and the short proximity allows you to appreciate his chiseled features. Strong jaw, well-defined nose, and neat stubble; not to mention the most striking set of golden eyes. Effortlessly charming. He could make your panties drop if they hadn’t been torn off already.

Your arms wire around his neck, holding on for dear life. “Reiner, I—” he rams into you, and you almost choke on his name. The words clog in your throat as you manage out a drowsy request.  “Want more of you! Please,” 

More, you say? Like you could remotely handle anything greater than what he’s giving you now? That’s fine. He'll simply make sure to fulfill your needs until your cup overflows. 

He dips low until the defined arch of his nose is brushing past yours, fucking you rough on the fluffy carpet with a higher vigor. It’s like he’s finally snapped. “Fuckin’ greedy,” Reiner snarls against your ear, his stubble grazing your cheek, “Wanted it so bad that y’couldnt wait, huh? Got me fucking you on the ground like a goddamn animal.”

Reiner’s cutting words make you pulse. He’s never done you this hard before. There’s a noticeable change in the way he’s handling you. He’d usually be unhurried and careful, paired with the mutter of encouraging words against the shell of your ear. In all honesty, you like this for a change. After this round’s over, you’ll make an effort to piss him off more often.

“Reinerrr,” You whimper aloud, drawing it out through a stretched moan. His balls jump over your droned call of his name. If you keep it up, he might just wind up coming inside without a second thought.

You clamp down on his vein-littered cock with increased urgency. “You’re close, aren’t you?” Reiner questions, quickening his tempo. He wants you to unravel. “Mm-hm!” you pant. Your impending climax is coming along again. You can feel it, that tense buildup that lies deep in your trembling pelvis. Reiner urges your release. “Let go for me, baby.”

He bites down on your shoulder when you drag your nails down his firm back. “Come all over my fuckin’ cock.” he rambles dirty lines onto your sweat-coated skin, reaching down between you to give your puffed clit a brisk swipe or two.

That's enough to get you to undo. You’re rapidly fluttering around him, head tossed back. He's there to hold onto you, searing his touch into your skin as you fall completely apart in his safe grasp. You tremor for him, orgasmic waves coursing up your spine. Reiner carries on with his unruly thrusts, meeting you in a brash kiss.

You gasp against his mouth, breathing him in. Reiner surrounds you from every possible angle; around you, pecking your lips and rubbing your waist… more especially inside you, whisking at your spent walls with his thick cock. It’s all so much. “Fuck, I can’t, Rei… no more,” you shake beneath his heavyset figure.

“Just hold on for me, baby,” he pleads in a lowly whimper. The over-stim has your feet jerking above your head. “Lemme use your pussy for a little longer. Is that alright? Hm?” his consistent pounding makes you go fucking brain-dead. That’s probably why you don’t catch a single word of his. The only perceivable sound is the dense clap of his skin as it collides with yours.

Reiner’s thin brows draw together, his mouth drops open, and the underside of his dick spasms. That’s how you know he’s soon to topple over the edge. “I’m so close,” he releases a guttural whine, pattern growing sloppier. There’s a burning ache in his thighs, but he doesn’t care to stop. He’ll chase that high until the both of you soak this carpet in cum. 

The tremble of your form underneath his, your breathy moans entering his ear, the dull scrape of your nails down his back; it’s all part of what urges his release. Reiner’s grip on your side is taut when he comes. “Fuuck,” he swears, moaning the loudest he has all night. 

You gladly welcome the loads of pearly cum that he drains into you. It warmly spills out, dripping past your labia and down to your asscheeks. Reiner’s drenched, too. It’s made a mess of his twitching shaft, pelvis, and sac. 

Reiner huffs, sitting up to rest on his knees. He’s yet to recover. “That was… damn.” His chest heaves. Intense, he means. That’s the word closest to accuracy that you could use to describe the burst of passion between you and him. Reiner comes back down to earth, unthinkingly caressing your thighs. He loosens his hold on your midriff, managing to catch his breath. 

You look up at him with admiration swirling in your dilated eyes. “You good, baby?” Reiner directs his attention your way, and you acknowledge him with a hum. “I didn’t go too hard, did I?” Him and his slew of questions. You don’t mind it, since he means well. His thoughtful nature warms your heart.

“It was perfect, I came twice and everything. Now c’mere!” As always, these kinds of sessions end with you outstretching your hands, gesturing him closer so that he can cradle you in his arms. Gently, Reiner lowers down until he rests atop your bare figure, leaning his weight onto you with the utmost caution.

“I’ll clean you up after this, honey.” he mumbles, cheek pressed against your boobs. “I know you will,” you expect him to. He’s made taking care of you a habit. 

You stare into the distance and feel the cool blow of the ceiling fan, carding a hand through the short tresses of his blonde hair. His forehead’s exposed and sheen with sweat. You inhale his scent (now merged with the smell of sex), and rub your palms over his thickset muscles, just appreciating his being. Silence engulfs you both.

Moments later, you break the quiet atmosphere with a faint laugh. Reiner perks his head up. “What is it?” 

“You were rougher than normal,” you observe. He lifts a brow. “And that’s funny? Thought you liked it.” 

“I did!” you’re quick to reassure him. “I just didn’t know you had it in you, baby. That’s all,” you wrap your arms around his back, using your tender touch to soothe the red-lined scratches from earlier. “Well, you brought it out of me… brat.” the last part is said under his breath. You catch on anyway.

That brings about your incredulous gasp, like you don’t already know that yourself. “Me? A brat?” you light-heartedly challenge the truth of his words. “Oh, very much so. But I love you anyway.” Reiner scoots up to kiss you, his softened cock skimming your thigh. 

“Aren't you glad I interrupted you? You should be,” you claim. Although drowsy, he lets out a buoyant laugh, one that rumbles in his chest. He’d never hear the end of you reciting ‘I was right!’ if he were to confess, but he is grateful you distracted him. You were the one to initiate, but he came to realize that he needed it too. 

Reiner would say tonight helped him realize that you never fail to get what you want, but he already knew that. 

In truth, one thing was clarified for him— dick is the only effective form of correction that works on his pretty little vixen of a girlfriend.

TAGS ༉‧₊˚. @hellavile @indiecursor @nneedynymph @deemanaa @photosbyameil @venusflytrapstar @fkatwigsisthenextkatebush @ctrllovre @aiyaaayei @hoohoohope @minniecums @turdettethefirst ♡︎

[jinwoosungs]

{ 117 }

shut up and dance with me.

tsukishima kei x fem.reader x oikawa tooru

college au

banner credit to @luneariaa ( and @madeimoisellesoleil for helping! )

dedicated to @svrakas for showing me the specific tiktok by @/5yaff that inspired this fic ♡

tsukishima kei was not a person who enjoyed going out to clubs-

yet the same couldn't be said about you, his girlfriend of 3 years.

he honestly felt so tired after coming home from a long day of classes. all he wanted to do was cuddle up next to you on your couch, put on some cheesy rom-com he knew would make you laugh and smile while indulging on your favorite takeout order.

yet the moment he entered your shared apartment and was greeted by your saccharine smile and melodious laughter, kei knew he was screwed.

because this- this was a telltale sign that you wanted something from him.

"alright spill, just what the hell do you want?"

you sputter a bit, appearing flustered while stomping your feet a bit (okay, he'll admit it, you were too fucking cute for your own good.)

"there's no need to be so rude, kei! i-i just thought, well... aren't you feeling a bit of cabin fever here? we haven't left our apartment in months."

kei scoffs while pushing up his glasses. "we've left the apartment plenty of times. or have you forgotten that we need groceries every month?"

"that's what i'm saying kei, i don't wanna leave our home just to do mundane things! i wanna go out to bars, i want to dance and just have a great time with my boyfriend!" as kei watches you go on and on about your supposed cabin fever, he notices how you kept pacing back and forth, sending him cute little pouty glances his way, your expression reminding him of a puppy desperate for attention.

"please can we go out and do something fun, kei, pleeeeaaase?"

he could feel the impending headache that was close to settling near his temple, yet something about disappointing you left a bad taste in his mouth.

with a sigh, he clenches his eyes shut while massaging the bridge of his nose. "alright fine, we can go out, but only for a few hours! when 11pm hits, we're out of there, got it?"

an excited squeal was heard coming from your parted lips, and kei relishes in the way you jump up against him, wrapping your arms around his neck to place a kiss against his lips before hurriedly bouncing away from him.

"i'll be out in 30 minutes, babe!"

he listens as you slam the door shut, running a hand through his blond hair while his golden irises narrow in annoyance, knowing he had to take some tylenol before heading out, just as a precaution to prevent any migraines from rearing its ugly head.

{ ... }

to say kei felt pissed the moment he stepped into the club would be a complete understatement.

he allows the heavy fumes to surround you and him, buying you one of your favorite drinks as he stands off to the side. his glare was obvious, and he kept you by his side throughout it all.

this was the worst idea ever, since kei did not feel like dancing. he refuses to remove himself from his spot on the wall, taking sips of his strawberry daiquiri that was way too sweet. from his periphery, he sees your jittery movements and asks what was wrong.

"uhm, well, this is my favorite song that's playing, and i'd really love it if you could dance with me, kei."

by now, the tylenol clearly was not working, for he could feel the pinpricks of a migraine beginning to break through, the dull pain coursing through him as he places the rest of the drink off to the side. your name comes out of his lips in an exasperated sigh. "if you want to dance, just dance by yourself. i have a headache and don't feel like doing anything."

kei refuses to allow your hurt expression to sway him, ignoring the painful lump in his throat at the sensation. he hated being the cause of your pain so much, even though he knows he can be a complete asshole at times.

he was about to say something, ready to change his mind and dance with you after all when the sight of someone with cinnamon brown hair and a wide grin stops him in his tracks.

"what's a pretty girl like you standing here all alone?" like a bucket filled with ice was just thrown at him, kei watches as your attention was stolen by that perfect stranger.

"oh, i-it's nothing. it's just, my favorite song is playing..."

"what?! then why are you waiting here?! let's go dance!"

not even looking back at him, kei watches as another man takes you in his arms and leads you to the dance floor, feeling the sharpest pain he had ever felt while watching you smiling and dancing with someone that wasn't him.

{ ... }

you decided to ignore kei the moment this handsome stranger whisks you away from him, giggling while having a great time dancing to your favorite song.

the man's rich laughter fills your ears, and you found your heart unexpectedly skipping its beats at the sound of it. "so... was that pissant your boyfriend?"

you roll your eyes while turning around to face him, still dancing with him while talking to him through the music, "yeah, he's an asshole, but... he's my asshole."

now that you could see him up close, you realized that this guy was utterly gorgeous. with gentle brown locks of hair cascading over his forehead and coffee brown eyes, you felt as though you could drown in his gaze. his full lips were upturned in a gentle smile when he suddenly leans in to whisper to you.

"don't look now, but i think your man is getting jealous."

"hmph, serves him right for not dancing with me."

you could feel the stranger's smile against the shell of your ear, "well, maybe this will get him to react like the way you want him to."

the fast-paced song suddenly turns into something slower and more intimate, making you gasp when your dance partner takes you in his arms while looking behind him. you couldn't tell what he was doing, but from the way he held up his hand while lifting up a finger aimed directly at your boyfriend, you could feel the heat rising up against your cheeks.

"you- why did you do that for?!"

the handsome stranger lets out another laugh before leaning down to whisper in your ear, "i can tell how much you love him, but just between you and me, if you ever want a real man in your life, come find me. my name's oikawa tooru..."

before you could even deny the need to ever find him, tsukishima was immediately standing in front of you, shoving oikawa away with his chest puffing out in response. "i think that's enough of you grinding on some other man's woman. know your place, asshole."

his voice was filled with venom as oikawa takes a step backwards, hands held up in feign defeat as amusement was seen shining in his chocolate brown gaze. "hey hey, no need to get so upset, i was just helping her have a good time, that's all."

"we're leaving."

unable to say anything else, you look back at oikawa and give him an apologetic expression, only to be met with his wide smile as he mouths something at you.

take care and be happy.

{ ... }

"yo, jackass, your blind date just saw that stunt that you pulled and left the bar."

oikawa was forced to look away from the retreating couple, meeting his best friend's angry gaze with a sheepish expression on his face. "ah, damn iwa, did izumi leave after all?"

"that's what i just told you." iwaizumi's scowl was enough to make oikawa laugh as he walks away from the dance floor and back to his table. "was this why you invited me? so i could keep the girls you reject company while you fuck around?"

"ah come on, don't be that harsh iwa-chan! because when you put it that way, it makes me sound like a bastard."

"that's because you are a bastard." iwaizumi lets out a huff while downing the rest of his drink. "that tall blond looked like he was ready to kick your ass."

"heh, i highly doubt that." oikawa takes his glass and takes a swig out of it. "i was just playing cupid, you know? his girl was way too cute for a tightass like him, so i just did something to make him take action."

oikawa has to bite back his laughter, making a tremendous effort to keep it from bubbling out of him. "you? playing cupid? don't make me sick, assikawa."

"alright alright, i'll shut up." he sighs while leaning back on his seat, thinking back to that super cute girl with that beanpole boyfriend. "she was really cute though, so i'm hopeful that she'll take me up on my offer..."

{ ... }

"kei, s-stop, you're going too fast- k-kei, you're hurting me!"

with a gasp, kei finally stops walking, looking behind him to see you holding back your tears. he looks down and finally realizes that he has been holding your hand in a vicegrip while dragging you along, further fueling his guilt.

letting you go, he turns away from you while letting out a string of curses.

"i know you want to do it, so just fucking do it." kei was glaring at you, and he knew that he was just jealous and upset, but he couldn't stop himself.

"d-do what, kei?"

he takes your hand and leads you towards an alleyway, somewhere private and away from any prying eyes. "i know you want to break up with me and go back into that bastard's arms, that's what you want, right? a fun and energetic guy that shares all of your interests and will dance with you on a whim?"

"if that's what you want, then go, go and just-" before kei could continue with his rant, he was suddenly stopped by you. he sees the way you stand on the tip of your toes, placing your hand against his jawline before kissing him. you perfectly place your lips against his in a gentle kiss, and he, being too enamored with how sweet you tasted, basks in it.

the moment your lips met with his, he forgot all about the anger and annoyance he felt. the jealousy was whisked away, forgotten like a puff of smoke escaping into the cold night air. not wanting to let you go, kei wraps his arms around you, allowing his fingertips to play with the soft strands of your hair.

he could feel his heart pounding from out of his chest when you pull away from the kiss first. your eyes were filled with adoration and kindness, and he felt like such a bastard all over again upon realizing that you still loved him, even now.

with a grunt of your name, kei wraps his arms around you, burying his face within your hair while murmuring an apology.

"'m sorry."

"i'm sorry, too." was your reply. you silently beckon him to face you, framing his handsome face with your two hands.

"i know you were probably tired from your classes and wanted to just stay in. i'm sorry for making you go out when you probably felt tired. how about we order some ramen and we can stop by that bakery and get you the strawberry shortcake that you love so much?"

kei was absolutely astounded by how sweet you were, making him give you a tiny frown, "you're not mad at me?"

"of course not, silly."

"you don't want to leave me?"

"nope!"

"even when i'm a bastard?"

"you're my bastard."

"and you still love me?"

"i'll always love you!" you answer him with the widest and most beautiful smile that kei felt his heart ache and turn soft in response.

he remains silent, simply embracing you once more while pressing a kiss against your hair.

"next time we go out, i promise i'll shut up and dance with you when you ask."

and truly, you wouldn't want him any other way ♡

a.n. - it's been so long since i've written anything for my haikyuu!! boys; this is currently unedited, but i hope you readers enjoy this story! 🥹

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[hastyprovocateur]

What could be- Mizemi farm!au (mild nsfw)

It might be too good to be true.

But I wanted to picture Mizu and Akemi living together in the countryside and their relationship slowly developing as neither is rushed on any timeworn marriage- sex- children- grand children timeline. They'd spend their quiet days working the farm, cleaning their hut, raising pigs and horses. Mizu endured the tough lifting and tending, or repairing the roof and sheds as they'd require frequently. That or she'd monopolise the workshop. Akemi always accompanied her with cut fruit or sliced and salted vegetables with her ever piquant banter resonant through the sound of clanging tools. They'd chide each other with love.

"Pray, I've never seen wolves on our property" said Akemi and Mizu remarked impassively "They see you and warn each other to keep away"

Akemi, despite her dignified upbinging, had grown accustomed to the long walks to get anywhere, comfortable with the dirt flecking her pale feet. It is freedom she breathed through what the finer folks would call the strench of the rural outskirts. She engaged her hours in embroidering linens, patching up their clothes, especially all the elbows Mizu left threadbare from her training. She'd taken to the kitchen. Oddly elated at the fact that she could put exactly what she wanted in her body. Mizu gifted her a paring knife with a hidden love quote on the blunt edge and ever since, Akemi's indulged in finely chopping all the vegetables for their stew. She wasn't great at it but Mizu never griped. Even the most bitter concoction she wouldn't stop at less than 3 servings of. Akemi was determined to get better. Her heart nearly fluttered through her ribs when she managed to wring a sigh of pleasure from Mizu's lips when she'd tasted her miso soup one unremarkable evening. Mizu blushed at her sudden loss in composure, disguising it with the clatter of chopsticks and insistence that Akemi eat more.

"You eat. It's not everyday I cook this well" Akemi concealed a chuckle. "You always cook well" Mizu lied through her teeth.

Mizu set up a wall of shelves for Akemi to curate her books while Akemi recited many of her favorite poems to Mizu and taught her the basic meter. They'd sit together at night to trace their calligraphy in the same ornate style. Mizu fell in love with Akemi's hand. Akemi flicked her brush with artistic finess level with her sword wielding. Mizu never saw one any superior to the other. Akemi lay awake to paint sometimes. Rendering sprawling visions of the pastures and galloping horses. Their hut shared by two spirits. She said watching Mizu sleep invigorates her mind. Mizu claimed it's because she's not awake to spout nonsense in her ear. Akemi wrote Mizu seven poems inspired by all their nonsense. All of which Mizu pretended to never understand so she could ask Akemi to explain each verse again.

On the other hand, Mizu had been persistent in teaching Akemi how to throw a knife. It had been a task to get Akemi to single mindedly commit. Her mind turned forever lush in following the soaring sparrows, flitting butterflies, mating calls of toads and the frequent wondering if she'd left the pot on the hearth. Akemi grasped eventually, now flaunting all the peaches she could collect in just 3 strikes. The downside is that Mizu had to eat wagashi sweetened with peach preserve well into the winter. She never complained about the saccharine spinning in her head. But she'd pass out quickly after dinner. Which Akemi enjoyed watching, counting down till it worked.

"Anytime now" Akemi stroked Mizu's head on her lap as they watch the sun sink into the horizon from their porch. Mizu saw doubles, corners of her vision darkening "I'm not going down without a fight" she grits.

They shared a bed. Mizu offered to set up one close by but Akemi insisted on clutching the edge of her nagajuban as she slept. Mizu didn't object. She understood that Akemi slept light, still worried about being dragged off by strange men in the middle of the night. Unbeknownst to Akemi, Mizu harboured her katana under the mattress on her side if evil men do sully the sanctity of their homestead. Unbeknownst to Mizu, Akemi knew about the katana. They hadn't become intimate beyond the rare incidents of catching each other mid-dressing. They'd touch. Akemi would cleanse and dress Mizu's cuts and scrapes from work and Mizu would rinse Akemi's feet while she tried splashing water in her face. They'd often wake up wrapped up in each others arms.

"You said my name in your sleep" Akemi notes, her voice mellow and meek as Mizu grunted "You were threatening me with a knife." But she couldn't bring herself to confess that they'd been making incessant love in her dreams.

If Mizu woke up first, she'd clutch Akemi tight and in the time it took for her to rouse, Mizu would memorise every curve beneath Akemi's garments. She'd imagine them as she worked the fields as motivation to be done quick and return home and into her embrace. She'd sneak out to the river when it became unbearable, stripping down and letting the cold water numb her thoughts. Truth was... she wanted her more with every new, rising day. Akemi's beguiling smile shone bright as light itself, her quips quicker than a scholar's, her wisdom par to any monk. Her loose hair pooled over their pillow like wrought blessings, her pretty fingers clutched around her nagajuban like she'd lose herself if she let go, curled toes peeking from beneath the sheets. How was a person to deny such loveliness resting on their breast. When she'd call your name midsleep?

Likewise, Akemi would turn a flush red if she admitted it but she'd lay out Mizu's samue over their mattress in her absence and bury her face in it, touching herself as she imagined the slender in Mizu's calves, her sinewy arms and dexter fingers, the shape of her smooth back with dark hair flooding down her spine, the dark corners of her eyes, the unfettered sea in her gaze, her rich mouth. She'd crash from the waves of pleasure. Tossing and turning until she'd tire herself and then go prepare supper before Mizu returned home.

"Akemi!" Mizu called her one such evening as she'd just gotten done preparing hot stew, laying their scant and simple dinnerware out. Akemi came to, hearing the rumbling in the sky as it threatened to pour. "Coming!" Akemi ambled out the house, hair undone and feet bare. She came upon Mizu frenzied, grabbing at the clothes on the clothesline. They cracked in the storm, one blew away with a strong gust. "Mizu!" Akemi yelped, grabbing onto as many clothes as she could, bursting out in laughter halfway as she saw Mizu's eyes squinted, vexed by the dust kicked up by the wind. It began to drizzle... then pour. Akemi giggled harder as their clothes became soaked and Mizu continued to frantically collect them all. "Help me!" Mizu was exasperated, trying to yank down their bedsheet, stuck in place somehow by its pin. Akemi caught Mizu's obi before it flew off and began laughing uncontrollably as she tried to bring down the bedsheet along with Mizu.

The rain came down harder by the second and they are effectively soaked. Mizu stared at Akemi, the top of her head growing slick, loose locks stuck to her forehead. The corners of Mizu's lips twitched as she lost her composure as well. "Come off..." she continued to pull at it. "It'll tear!" Akemi tugged weakly, giving up eventually. "Don't stop!" Mizu insisted but Akemi simply smiled at her, reaching her arms out and looking skyward "It's already wet" she shrugged. Mizu looked at her quizzically "But you washed it..." she reasoned, still squinting from her irritated eyes. Akemi closed the distance between them, reaching for Mizu's face.

"Hold still" she laughed, stroking Mizu's waterline, gently easing a bit of debris out from the corner. Mizu peered down at her, chest heaving ever so slightly. Akemi's robe seeped through to her skin, clinging to it in places she's never seen bare with her eyes. She grew flustered, lowering her eyes from Mizu's piercing blue, resting them on Mizu's cupid's bow. "I'll wash it again... I'll wash them all" Akemi assured and Mizu quietly reached around Akemi, nestling her arms in the dip of her waist and pulling her even closer "Do you desire abhorrent work?" Mizu asked, water embedding into the fabric covering her broad shoulders, top knot coming undone. Akemi gulped, forehead level to Mizu's chest"It's not work to me. I'd do it everyday... blindly" her voice thinned.

To a near squeak.

"Meet my eyes" Mizu instructed her but Akemi hesitated, eyes affixed on Mizu's mouth, counting each part of her lips, the flick of her tongue. "Meet my eyes, Akemi" she repeated. Her tenor softer. Deeper. Sweeter. Akemi emboldened herself to peer up, finding Mizu's glacial blue eyes smiling down at her, the edges crinkled with love. Mizu brought herself closer, cradling Akemi's cheek and wandering her thumb over the soft expanse to push a wet strand back, resting it below her lips covered with raindrops "All this rain and I shall only be quenched by your lips-" Akemi lifted her bare heels above the ground, planting her lips on Mizu's with the tenderness of feathers brushing. Mizu held her tighter, face tilting to fit herself to her lover's lips. Like rivers meeting. They pulled back shyly only to meet again inevitably. Mizu drew away, crouching to hook Akemi under the knees and lifting her clean off the ground "You're getting your feet dirty" she marched her to back inside as Akemi rested her arms around Mizu's shoulders, eyes smitten with adoration "Bathe me" she rested her head in the crook of Mizu's neck

"Then wring me dry on our bed."

"Everyday... blindly" Mizu promised, sincere despite her wicked smile.

[twochildreninamoteldemo]

what’s on your personal list of “must reads” for wincest? i have a feeling you’ve got good taste

- @spn2006

i wouldn't necessarily say i have a must-read list as in everyone has to read something, because everybody has different taste, especially when it comes to sam and dean's dynamics (both sexual and otherwise), but the fics that i would heartily recommend that fall into my reading of supernatural (or adjacent to it) go as such, keeping in mind that I am a samgirl, pretty much only care about early seasons, and enjoyer of the family horror of the show:

The Ballad of the Invisible Boy + Two Headed Boy by @dollyluxed

If i had to pick any fic as a must-read for a samgirl cestie, this would be the one. the yearning and desperation speak deeply to the isolation of samdean's youth, especially how sam feels it, and dollylux isn't afraid to get inside the beast of teen angst, which makes it feel really lush and visceral. the 90s nostalgia is excellent (disclaimer: i was born after the 90s, but it made me feel like i was there without being corny), and the way the story is told through several vignettes feels a lot like the show itself. these kind of snapshot short films of how samdean's codependency develops through this unspoken tension over the years. the stanford era portion has a scene i think about every time i listen to joni mitchell (check out the soundtrack for this duology too; it's excellent), and the season 1 section ties together the story in a way that fits well with the show. a slow burn, really beautiful story, and i love the illustrations. i would also recommend dollylux's shorter works for amazing smut:)

@applecrumbledore 's fanficography

The first of Roni's fics I read were "Dream fuckery" and "Drywall dust" (the latter the first of a 4-part preseries story), and the balance of angst, sexual tension, and humor blew me away. It keeps the tone of supernatural, which a lot of fics don't (which is fine), but this was super cool in that it felt extremely natural, and very fun to read. I haven't been updated in all my fanfic reading lately, but I loved the beginning of Pine Sweat, their time travel fic, and "try asking," their pov outsider fic, is fucking hilarious and exhilarating. they have lots of creative ideas from preseries to late seasons and it never gets old!

Gospel Truth by @cowboyified

A case fic with an accute sense of shame embedded within angst, a really great sense of description, and perfectly inspired by art by @thegoodthebadandtheart for the reverse bang a couple years ago. the aesthetic of both frauke's work and the fic itself feel real, both the openness of the great plains and the claustrophobia of incestuous pining. definitely a modern classic.

"Buy You a Mockingbird" by candle_beck

the dark pov outsider fic to crown all others. candle_beck is an amazing writer and i also recommend all their work, but this one in particular stands out because of the horror of the dramatic irony of the story--what the reader knows, but the pov character does not. it's incredible to see everything unfold, and a realistic if bleak interpretation of another classic trope (which i won't name for spoiler's sake).

"Other Brothers" by @homo-pink

another incredible pov outsider fic with this beautiful sense of empathy and also a hint of adrenaline thrill. sam's cheeky and sassy and smart, and dean's cute and so in love. pov outsider weecest has the potential to be disturbing or sweet, and while this teeters the line, i think it falls into the latter category in a way that doesn't feel too saccharine.

"Three Days on the Rack" by keerawa, read by Reena Jenkins

I'd highly recommend listening to this via podfic! reena is great and there's a lovely cello cover of fade to black by metallica that plays in the interlude. anyway, the fic is an orpheus and eurydice-adjacent story about sam trying to get dean out of hell--but it's a torture fic. i love the way it describes hell, i love the way we see dean in the depths of alistair's apprenticeship, i love sam's strength. another gorgeously dark gem.

"Skin Like Fear" [orphaned]

I can't speak much on this one because I don't remember it super well, but it's a take on samdean after sam's hell trauma, something not very touched on by the fandom, and the horror is super well done, it's a great fic. obviously dark, deals with rape aftermath, proceed accordingly.

"show me again, shame takes hold" by objectlesson

if you can't tell yet, i really love preseries fics. this one is a lesbian femchesters AU, butch dean i love u foreverrrrrr. as you can tell by the title, more angst, more shame, etc etc. i was catholic what can i say. there's a lot about the ambiguity of sexuality and gender in this fic too.

and that's it! some of my other favorites are "Tomcat," the Caged Desires series, "The Truth in His Bones," and Brothers, but those i wouldn't necessarily rec on a wide basis because the first one is specifically about transmasculinity, and the second 3 deal with dom!dean/sub!sam dynamics in a pretty sharp way that everyone may not sit with right. that being said they're wonderful and sexy (and the last two, rather sad). let me know what u thought of this list!

[bukvarsbitch]

An unofficial, very personal to my tastes, and unnecessary ranking of all of the songs in Nerdy Prudes Must Die

(typed on my laptop so you know shit's real)

I think it goes without saying this is all my opinion. All of the songs are genuinely good, even the ones I don’t love/like! That being said, here’s my ranking just because I’ve been thinking about this a little bit and I want to put it outside my brain.

15: Dirty Dudes Must Die Look, I get it. It’s a twist, it’s a time for Angela to slay. That’s all good and fine. I just don’t love the placement and it didn’t feel like an ending to me. That being said, “darkness will save my soul” goes HARD.

14: The Best of You People keep putting this high up, which I respect, but I can’t resonate with. Someone said it felt very DCOM to them, and I think that might be why I don’t love it; it just feels really tonally different, and not in the way that Just for Once is that’s a clear differentiation for a whole slew of reasons. It’s a totally fine song, I just don’t love it as a fake-out closer. It just doesn’t work for my brain.

13: Cool as I Think I Am (Reprise) I love a sad reprise as much as anyone else; for some reason, this one just really doesn’t vibe with me. No thoughts about why, I just always skip the last three songs on the soundtrack because I don’t love them.

12: Go Go Nighthawks Okay, so we’ve finally gotten past the songs that I just don’t like lol. I actually really like this song! I think it’s cute tonally and it gets off the really artificial and saccharine world that’s about to come crumbling down. Also, the “squawk squawk” always gets stuck in my head for some reason. It’s only this low because it’s not one that I’d put on repeat.

11: The Summoning Someone’s going to dox me for this, but I really don’t love The Summoning as a whole number. It goes hard, don’t get me wrong; I actually ADORE everything before the Lords of Black come in. Mariah, Angela, and Joey’s vocals blend SO beautifully, and the ensemble whispers are HAUNTING. I love, love, love it. The rest of the song is still awesome and I get why people like it, but I don’t love it until the ensemble comes back in towards the end. I also don’t love the start-and-stop of it; if they were going to do that, I feel like keeping everything singing would’ve worked better? I just feel a bit like the energy falters a little. That being said, I still really really like this song.

10: Just for Once I’m a sucker for this genre of musical; my favorite musicals are almost all from this era, and I really like this song on the soundtrack. I don’t actually love it in the show, but I really appreciate it as a number on the soundtrack. It made me understand Ruth a lot more (I liked her before, but I really GOT her after), but I didn’t love how it fit into the show at first, I think because Lauren’s vocals are a little different on the soundtrack compared to the proshot. A banger!

9: Cool as I Think I Am It’s a solid act one number! I’m actually fairly neutral about it, but I still love the way it sounds so it’s higher just because I’m more likely to put it on repeat. I also just love this occurrence of “I’m not a loser” and its later recurrence.

8: Bury the Bully Everyone seems to not like this and bully the bully??? I really like these songs; I think they’re super catchy and they’re a great comedic song for Angela to really get Grace into our hearts (more than she already was). This one’s only lower because I prefer the way the lyrics flow in bully the bully.

7: Bully the Bully I could listen to this song for literal years. I love it so much. Justice for bully the bully lol.

6: If I Loved You I’ve listened to this song SO MUCH. Firstly, Joey and Mariah’s voices go together SO FUCKING WELL. Secondly, “sure, I’m a sapiosexual, you’re intellectual, but I cut my lover losses when I can” is not only one of my favorite lines in the show but it also SO BEAUTIFUL. I think this song is just a great addition to the second act, and I really love it.

5: Dirty Girl Okay, so I will admit: when I first watched the show, I skipped this song. And then, after I finished the show, I went back and listened. I was so wrong, y’all. This is not only a god tier song, it’s also a great way to establish Grace’s absolute fucking insanity alongside Max’s (also) fucking insanity. Grace’s “I’m a good girl”s are such a good addition to the song and her character. I really, really love this song, and I think it’s a great place to start for my top five lol.

4: Hatchet Town SOMEONE’S GOT THEIR HAND ON THE HATCHET HANDLE SWINGING ON THE YOUTH IT’S A HATCHET SCANDAL CAREFUL OR YOUR FOLKS WILL END UP A CANNIBAL’S PLATE IT AIN’T GREAT YOU’RE BETTER ON THE RUN THAN YOU ARE HIDING SUDDENLY THIS QUIET TOWN’S EXCITING

God tier lyricism genuinely and it sounds sO GOOD. I love a “and here’s what the town thinks” song, and this is a great one that goes SO HARD. The chorus sets the tone so well. As I told my friend, it’s like if the Riverdale adults got a musical number, and I LOVE that.

3: High School is Killing Me This, to me, is an example of a genuinely perfect modern musical opening number. It sets the mood of the show so well, and it comes back to haunt you as the show slowly kills off its characters in a way that’s so satisfying. Of course, Mariah and Joey are hitting it out of the park; for me, though, the real star of this song is the ensemble. In any show, my favorite character is the ensemble, and this song is a great example of why. Lauren and Jon do a great job introducing us to the world (and their voices together are beautiful, GOD), and the ensemble makes it feel lived in and sets you up for the whirlwind you’re about to go on. Also, the harmonies. MWAH. (Also, “a cesspool faux democracy, it’s one hell of a normal abnormality” has been stuck in my head since I heard it; one of my favorite lyrics in the show).

2: Nerdy Prudes Must Die Love when the bully comes to kill you but it’s camp! Firstly, Will’s voice is GORGEOUS. Genuinely, I want him to play every single high school bad guy in a musical; he does such a good job. I just adore this song’s placement, tone, lyrics, sound, everything. I really love the way that “I could give two shits that you buried and left me, defiled my body, you pushed me off the edge” sounds, plus obviously the entire will you pray for me bit, ESPECIALLY WHEN THE ENSEMBLE COMES IN. Also, Jon’s absolutely fucking stuNNING “I’M NOT A LOSER.” God, it’s just so good. 100000/10.

1: Literal Monster I feel like this might be unpopular? But, I LOVE this song. It’s another one of those “and here’s what the town thinks” songs (in a way), the harmonies are beautiful, the GUITAR RIFFS, Will’s voice, the way it sets up Max’s entire being and everyone’s relationship to him. I already liked the song before Will comes in, but his voice adds such a wonderful tonal shift to the song with the HUH HUHs and then he just really goes for it, and I love him for it. His “a predator of my size, cross your heart hope to die, you can watch as I rise, I will claim what is mine” is genuinely one of my favorite sounds of the year. MWAH, chefs kiss.

[sakkiichi]

MATCHUP FOR @yaminohimeyume

hello, lovely ! and apologies for taking a little long with your matchup. i hope you still like it <3

as soon as i read your description attentively i knew who was your perfect match. actually, both your match and the runner up were the ones to instantly come to mind hehe, i hope it’s to your tastes !

your genshin impact match is someone with a silver tongue and a knack for charming people, in contrast to your more reserved character. like you, he is loyal, even if he often conceals himself behind the shadows that come with his cool facade. he cares deeply for his loved ones, and similarly to you, lying is not out of the question for him, especially if it benefits him or someone he holds dear. don’t be fooled by this, however, through the ice he displays, his heart is one of the noblest you can encounter.

well, can you tell who hides behind stars that died long ago? stare into the night to find…

✧ KAEYA

One of the reasons why I think you and our resident cavalry captain would work well is due to the nice contrast between your demeanors. You’re reserved and leaning on timid, whereas Kaeya is an expert when it comes to interacting with others.

In addition, he is very sharp and perceptive. A smooth-talker, I just have the feeling that his words would manage to soothe your worries from past events. Kaeya can be very comforting, a steady ice-block, afloat amidst the raging oceans of your worries.

When it comes to insecurity and self-doubt, Kaeya is definitely a great help. He is intuitive and confident, his charisma always managing to put you at ease, calming down the furious gales raging inside your mind, as you turn over every thought time after time.

To him, though, every one of your decisions is perfect in its own way…

—

The night above is worthy of poetry anthologies.

Indigos fade into silver-flecked marine hues, the fine clouds, the threads connecting the distant stars foretelling the future.

Nightingales flit from one stray tree to another, dancing in the chilly late autumn wind, notes of winter palpable moments before sundown, when the heavens were dyed in steely shades of snow.

Beneath this night, you sit by the garden’s fountain, the water inside its basin, a carbon copy of the infinity above.

One could tell this place and scenery were peaceful, a near perfect idyll taken out of a sweet dream.

If they asked you, however, you’d beg to differ.

Half moons are indented in the palms of your hands, almost a mockery of the one above, as you nervously fiddle with the book you were reading moments ago, hands curling into fists.

Too nervous to keep focusing on the text and diagrams of different constellations and their interpretations, you take shallow breaths now.

Do you look presentable enough? Was this dress the right choice for your date? Will he like it?

Sighing, your eyes flutter closed, the cool breeze, a caress against your quickened heart.

“Well, well, and I thought I was early.” A familiarly mischievous sweet voice chants.

“K-kaeya!” You stammer at first, breath hitching, the temperature on your cheeks rising several degrees.

He flashes his usual saccharine smile, devoid of the shadows of midnight with you. When he was around you, the curve of his lips was not taut or practised, but a crystal clear reflection of his heart of gold.

His tan hand finds yours.

Clear ice meets your eyes, light glinting off of them when the swordsman gets lost in your stare. A rare sight, for the captain’s gaze was usually opaque with secrecy.

“You look lovely, my darling.” The knight whispers, sensuous lips brushing over the back of your hand. You get lost in his midnight lashes, caressing his high cheekbones.

Not even the stars you study could have predicted the wild beat of your heart against your ribcage at his actions.

In a swift motion, your lover tugs at your hand, bringing you close to the warmth of his partially exposed chest.

“And it’s a beautiful night,” he continues, his hands sliding around your waist. “Wouldn’t you say the stars are shining for us, sweetheart?” He softly utters. His kisses graze your skin, so delicately, as if you were a glass blossom wrapped in velvet; resilient and yet sensitive and so, so dear to him.

In your beloved’s embrace, a pleasingly cool breeze blows by, all your worries carried away.

As your lips touch his and starlight sways around you, your breathing steadies.

Your book is long forgotten, its pages curiously turned to a chapter on fated love.

—

Your loyalty and honesty are both qualities Kaeya values so much in you. While you might occasionally tell some minor lies, he instantly catches up on them and knows you’re doing it for someone else’s own good.

The fact that you’re so honest is so endearing to Kaeya. We all know while, coming from good, he often tampers with the truth, spinning the facts to benefit the situation; so being with someone transparent, who speaks their mind would really be a good match for him.

You describe yourself as a good listener, and that is also something very positive for Kaeya. Often putting on a suave facade, his worries and thoughts tend to fester in the hours he spends alone, . Having someone who can listen to him without judging is something he deserves.

You mention you don’t trust easily, but neither does he. So your love story would be a slow-burn, getting to unravel his many layers, the ice obscuring his kind heart melting as you offer your affection to him.

Because he is frequently cataloged or labeled as something he really is not, Kaeya just knows that you’re so much more than your cold and collected exterior. And he’ll take all the time in the world to get to know you. No matter how long.

As an INFJ, you are intuitive. Kaeya is too, his mbti being ENTP. This opens the possibility for deep chats, which, in turn, would mean your lover getting to know about your hobbies. I can easily picture you two, by starlight, perched near the window of your shared home, as you read, perhaps for him. Maybe it’s a piece you wrote, or your favorite book. But regardless, the cavalry captain is utterly mesmerized by the lilt of your voice and the shine in your eyes.

✧ RUNNER UP: CHILDE

The reason I think he’s a good match for you as well is because of Ajax’s kind nature and loyalty towards those he loves. We see this when it comes to his family, risking his own health, and even life, to make his little brother happy.

You say you get lonely and are afraid to approach people at times. But rest assured, Childe adores it when you seek him out, to tell him about this or that star chart or to show him something you wrote.

He will never betray your trust either. If he lies to you, it is likely about his dealings as a fatui, and he does it solely to protect you. And if you met him already knowing who he really works with, well, then he has nothing to hide, really. Ajax trusts you with his life, so rest assured, the only details he will omit, much like you do, are the ones that could put you in danger.

He is definitely cheerful and extroverted, so he could aid you in getting out of your shell more. And if you feel insecure? Please, he is such a simp (affectionate) and is not shy to voice all the ways in which he believes you’re absolutely wonderful!

[avampyone]

Prompt #1: Envoy

Characters: Seraphine Desmarais (Hemlocke), Seraphim

Synopsis: Weary of everything, Seraphim returns from another evening of debauchery with a wish for respite and to take solace that he fulfilled his duty. The shadow that haunts his mind will not let him turn a blind eye so easily..

Setting: Desmarais Manor, Ishgard

----------

A taste of dull saccharine lingered upon his mouth and the haunting remains of a heavy rose scented perfume upon his clothing from the carnal activities of that evening. The wrinkles upon the fine velvet black of his long-tailored jacket with the buttons undone at the neck. Seraphine did his best not to think about it. Every night, the young Ishgardian lord found himself on the path to loathing these subtle details that stained his senses. His mind grew ever onward to the worlds beyond that he’d only ever read about as if to truly settle into the role of the puppet that his adopted father wished him to be.

Soon, the carriage would arrive back at his father’s manor. How could Seraphine think of this as home when he was more like a misshapen puzzle piece that never fit into the place it was meant to be? His long ears twitched upon hearing the tired yawn of the driver settled outside with the threat of the morning sun beyond the horizon daring to touch the skies when they finally stopped.

It was with great restraint and a regard for polite behavior befitting one of his rank that kept him from rushing to thrust open the front doors wide to seek his solace. Seraphine managed to quietly saunter along inside the Desmarais manor, not meeting the eyes of the servants who dutifully bowed and greeted him home. The gentle rasp of boots didn’t bother to stop until Seraphine found himself shutting the doors of the library behind him, greeted by the familiar peaceful smell of old books wrapping him around him like a warm hug.

There was always that one spot that he found himself running back to since he was a small boy. A well-crafted and tall dark cherry wood desk stood tall bereft of any chair nearby it in order to contain the plush blanket and pillow he'd left there. Unzipping his long boots, Seraphine knew better than to ponder the whereabouts of his adopted father, Gloucent, who was preoccupied with another heavy drink, passed out in a sprawling heap or bedding one of the maids.

He let himself fall heavily onto the cool hard floor, desperately gasping the blanket to pull over him in time to close his tired bloody depths to let the welcoming darkness envelop him always with the wish in his heart that he dare not speak out loud. To escape this life and not be forced into a marriage that would be naught more than a business transaction. Seraphine had tried to leave so many times, but Gloucent always brought him back. He thought heavy sleep might afford him a modicum of peace, but there was an eerie stirring in that darkness that would not let him drift away so easily.

It felt like much like the heavy curtain that had long since veiled Seraphine’s mind had been drawn back far too easily to reveal these sights before him, ‘What is this place..I feel like I know of it’. The sounds of clanging chains overheard, the distant sounds of roaring howls from beyond that shook him to his core.  Was this a castle. Or a prison? Yet, the sight of the fantastical creature before him drew his crimson eyes to stare at naught more. This surely wasn’t the voidsentian vampire creature his mum had warned him of, but it was unlike anything he had ever seen.

Seraphine could not make out how many wings lay sprawling from its back black as a raven’s own with thick spiraling horns branching out from its head. It lay languidly along a plush velvet chaise, long claw like nails tracing the heavy obsidian-colored bars it was imprisoned by. A long hiss escaped them, but Seraphine could hear words make out in his mind, ‘..Even now, there is no peace. How long until escape? Suffer the will of a master no longer..The bars will only contain for so long.’ They came like an alluring whisper. All this Seraphine shook his head gently to, heaving out a shaky breath, “It is..my duty to my father. I must..”

An irritated hiss rang out, this creature sitting up to show off the intricate lace black mask that covered its eyes of a glowing red and long black tresses waving behind it, ‘Silence! Follow our nature and feel the pulse of fiery rage that quickens the heart. Be free to drink your enemies dry. The end will bring blood and flames for us..Always.’ The dangerous smirk upon its full red lips spoke of a promise of violence, like the envoy of destruction itself.

[terrence-silver]

Terry and y/n go furniture shopping for their new house 🏠 👀

Is it reasonable to think Terry Silver would be the type to commemorate a new chapter in his life with a brand new house?

Yes, it is, as I see him as the type who owns many houses, retreats, mansions, estates, condos, overseas villas and lofts for many occasions and with so many facets to his character and interests, it is quite literally difficult or damn near impossible to fit all that Terry is or tries to be into just one building, no matter how lush or spacious. So, many are needed, and he does have many. Some less used, some more used, some never used. Some used only once and never again. A beach-side Malibu mansion for Malibu Terrence? His daunting, colossal 80's Mayan style temple for a man who thought he can rule the world? A more discreet, secluded manor that houses his more honest hobbies and interests, from his collection of Japanese Samurai swords down to the most priceless paintings and even the brief time he pretended he lived in the old Cobra Kai dojo in the process of being remodelled in order to trick Daniel? --- all here to showcase an image who he really is, or an image he wants to paint in order to cast a specific illusion. I think every piece of revenue and house holds up a mirror to a certain aspect of Terry or rather, who he wants to broadcast himself as at any given moment, marking certain epochs, certain eras, attitudes, decisions --- and hey, even relationships. In nature, a chameleon matches his current environment, his scales shifting colors depending of the hue of the soil, grass, sand and rocks it slithers on.

He changes identities like clothes sometimes.

Who is to say he would match his 'clothes' to his homes?

In this case, not entirely hard to believe Terry gets a home he exclusively considers a 'matrimonial home' in case he's getting married, or a 'love nest' if he's only just getting there, in the process of, as it were.

And this love nest, well, reflects its intended purpose, aesthetically and where ambience is concerned; dim lights, romantic, saccharine, intimate, all velvets and silks, expensive thick carpets and decorative, antique holders to light candles in, draped curtains, opulence, jacuzzi tubs, king sized beds with four posters and all the security in the world, because the only person who comes here is Terry and the only person who frequents visits is Terry, and when he is away, he wants to know who, when, how and why anyone would even dare mingle anywhere near his kept woman's or kept man's apartment, even from afar. Naturally, the furniture was handpicked, ordered, paid for and arranged by Terry Silver, but this love nest is a bufferzone not before long replaced because Terry is also territorial, greedy, needy and requires beloved close, at all times, always, and so this separate apartment just won't do, replaced quickly by the charms of conjoint living. The furniture again, according to the fine art of Feng Shui, reflects its purpose, now picked together, or maybe even put together in such a sense where it accommodates beloved's tastes because this is a golden love cage, and Terry's birdie might as well choose well, with great detail, what it will contain, like a canvas being re-painted in new colors, because they'll stay here forever. Might as well stay in a place they adore, filled with trinkets they like.

He absolutely insists they be the one who picks.

Encourages it, in fact.

[noglorysavehonor]

Just read the book If You Could See The Sun by Ann Liang.

I liked it a lot, especially considering it's not really my genre! It was almost everything I wanted out of a Gen Z, class-conscious, YA straight romance book. As someone who isn't Chinese, but has had many Third Culture friends, I really enjoyed reading its exploration of the Chinese / Third Culture Kid experience.

I do think for the author's first novel it's a very strong work. The characterization and growth of the protagonist was strong, and felt emotionally authentic. The exploration of class and race and culture shock is well-integrated to the plot, and feels neither grimdark nor saccharine... the people just feel like people, not paragons or villains. I think both of these areas were real accomplishments!

My main critiques are about the ending, which IMO is also always the hardest part to pull off. It also means I can't easily talk about my feelings in detail without spoilers, so I'll put em under a readmore.

Overall, for my tastes, I'd give the book a B (85/100). But if a YA romance set in an international highschool in Beijing with class consciousness and mild supernatural elements sounds like your kind of book, I strongly recommend it. I knew going in that it's not my normal thing, and I enjoyed it anyways!

Okay, my (long) thoughts on the ending under the cut:

[Before I start, in case you're a megafan (or the actual author herself??): These critiques come from a place of love and respect; I Am Not A Hater. I just have strong personal opinions about what I want to see in a story ending, and wanted to express them while analyzing how the book didn't fulfill them. My opinions are not facts, art is subjective, etc. ANYWAYS.]

My biggest complaint is pretty common with the way straight romances are often portrayed, and is a major pet peeve of mine:

The payoff of a romance, for me, is hearing the other person say what they like about the protagonist!

Henry's interest in Alice is always implied, of course, but there's never a scene where he outright says every single little thing he adores about Alice (flustering her terribly in the process!) Instead, the payoff of the romance is watching him flex his richboy power to help her (which is great, and I don't begrudge it) and then the kiss.

The kiss is...it's fine. I understand making it the center piece. But I wish it had more to back it up.

I think this sort of approach to writing romance is based on the idea that... you want to leave the romantic lead vague so that the reader can fill in what elements they'd like best. But for me, I want the complete opposite approach. I want to know exactly what these two people are like, and exactly why they like each other!! The whole pull of romance media is seeing two weirdos fit each other perfectly!!

First-person romance especially is so good when we finally get to hear how the protagonist is being interpreted by outside viewers. Which the novel does explore, a bit, with her Study Machine nickname! But I was so sad when it didn't give Henry the chance to explain himself and let us understand him better.

That would have allowed us to reread the whole book while understanding what Henry's moments of bare affection are about! That sense of dramatic romantic irony is so delicious and makes romance stories so re-readable! AND- wouldn't it have been wonderful to watch Alice try her best to deflect and argue Henry out of every positive trait he lists?? To get almost ANGRY that he dares to love her as a flawed person, not just for her successes!!!

AUGH.

Anyways sdkdflkjsd those are my Romance Critiques. (I had the same major complaint with Kimi no Na wa, too...)

My other main critique is: It feels like her characterization as being strongly self-analytical fell off at the end.

I think the best way of pointing it out is the scene in which she lies to her Baba about the true nature of the Beijing Ghost app without feeling a shred of guilt. It felt a little odd given her characterization of strong guilt and filial piety in the rest of the book.

Plus, it's a tough pill to swallow that... she had this entire major thing going on in her life, and she's just not ever going to open up about it with her family, who clearly deeply love her. I recognize that it would be pretty hard to do so given her family dynamic and potential legal consequences. But still, I'd at least like an acknowledgement that it's a sucky position for her to be in, to have to lie (for the rest of her life?) about that.

And while she does recognize that she's been chasing what other people find valuable and not considering what she wants... and she also realizes that if she, as a kid of a poor family, is offered A Million Yuan to do a crime, that's deeply coercive and she shouldn't be held completely at fault while the rich person gets off scotch free (we LOVE the class consciousness!!!)...

I guess I would have loved to see her put two and two together and recognize that Airington is genuinely a bad place for her to be. That she is destroying her health, committing a HUGE amount of crime, and has ZERO social life, all so she can fit to a mold that wasn't meant for her, and kicked her out as soon as her desperation became too evident.

Which, like, she got a chance to call the school out for those things, which is awesome! Very necessary catharsis! And she was close to realizing this stuff, like in the hotel scene where she can't bring herself to enjoy the socialization. She just doesn't make much more progress past that point.

TL;DR: I think overall there's an understandable desire to speed up the narrative once we're past the big climax, but I feel like it went by so fast that important threads of character development lost their chance to reach satisfying conclusions. So a lot of things I personally wanted to see happen in the romance and her own personal growth never got shown.

(Maybe at some point I'll write down my whole visualization of how I would rewrite the ending to address all these things. Listen. The Fanfiction Instinct is upon me. Which means I liked the book! I only ever want to remix stories I really enjoyed! It's a compliment! slkdfjdslkjf)

[docholligay]

Never Have I Ever

This is a short story collection I got as a gift quite awhile ago, and as one might expect it took forever for me to work it into my reading list because I’m just like this and I have 86 things I always want to read. 

Anyway, very glad this wasn’t a commissioned read, as I apparently have managed to lose the book somewhere between my room and pool deck, which is admittedly pretty impressive, even for me. I’m hoping it’s just under something back in the room. 

SO! Non-spoilery: This is a Filipino-American paranormal collection of stories, that leans heavily on the knowledge of FIlipino culture and creature. Like all short story collections, it’s definitely patchy, but comes in with some really beautiful stuff here and there. Yap seems to struggle a little bit with endings occasionally. 

SPOILERY: 

So I can’t actually decide if I liked this or not. Yes? But also no. I saw the pull quote from Tamsyn Muir on the cover and was like, ‘Oh great, when it came down to it, I did not like Gideon the Ninth. Fantastic” BUt there was a lot lot lot more for me in this book than Gideon. 

I CAN tell you that I wish I hadn’t been reading it poolside, because I don’t have a lot of exposure to Filipino culture and go I had to google a LOT for this collection, which I absolutely do not mind doing, I like to learn, but while I’m trying to relax in the hot spring, having to google a bunch of stuff to try and grasp the context of what’s going When I say this book requires a solid footing in Filipino culture, I mean, there are entire lines of dialogue, untranslated, in Filipino. 

It is patchy--A Spell for Foolish Hearts, for example, feels TOTALLY out of place in the collection, which is mostly darker in tone and subject, and then...we have a fluffy gay boy story in San Francisco. The story itself, while not being to my taste, isn’t BAD, just a bit saccharine--okay, a LOT bit saccharine, and it turns out he’s dating the mist of San Francisco and there’s a funky sitcom mixup that leads to a romcom style breakup and gag gag lots of you would LOVE this but it just ain’t for me-- but it feels like a friggin pothole in the interruption of the flow of the collection. The first story, which I can’t remember the name of, was, for me, very “yeah, yeah, the monstrous feminine, we’ve all seen it” and while it’s not terrible, I suppose, it doesn’t break any ground. Many of her stories end hanging, which is fine, but they feel unfinished in a way. There’s not a lot of great drop lines. Sometimes I think Yap gets real tangled up in THE MESSAGE I AM CONVEYING and it takes away from her truly good handle when she allows things to get creepy. 

Now, to stories I loved: 

Have you Heard the one about Anamaria Marquez?: This was a great story that really played into gossip and what it is to be remembered, with a fairly light touch of possession and belief. I loved the way the rumors about Anamaria’s ghost wavered from wildly ridiculous to plausible, in keeping with the ways that all high schools have a ghost and that ghost always has a tragic story. 

Asphalt, River, Mother, Child: This was maybe my favorite story in the whole thing, despite the fact that if someone accused it of being heavy-handed, I wouldn’t disagree. My friend actually said this story reminded her of my writing, which I found insanely flattering. Its about corruption and death and innocence and best intentions, and the exhaustion of compassion, how you can help so little, even if you are a goddess of sorts, but that small but still means something. 

Hurricane Heels: This is a grown up magical girl story! I could have written a variation on this idea, I fucking love it. I don’t even know that I think it’s the most artful story in the collection, but this was the story that made my friend decide to give this to me, and you know what? She’s right. 

How to Swallow the Moon: You see literally every beat of this story coming, if you’ve been around the block once or twice, but it kind of doesn’t matter. The only thing I don’t like about this story is that it’s written in second person, which is not the first time Yap does that. I don’t know if it’s to prove that she can, but there’s nothing about this story that fucking requires it to be in the second person. But, otherwise, it’s a beautiful and lyrical take on the whole ‘princess and handmaid’ type story trope, which really flattens how good I genuinely think the story is. The description in this story is as good as Yap ever gets in the whole collection, and I actually suppose if I had any other mild criticism of this story, which is once again a criticism of the collection itself, is, this story doesn’t fit. I actually think this would go better in a different collection, maybe one with Spell for Foolish Hearts, actually. I think many of y’all would love this one--nicely written stock fantasy beats, gay, happyish ending but not cloying. 

So, yeah, there we are! I guess I would say I DID like it, in general

[furys-mercy]

Clandestine - In Three Parts

__________________

Word Count: 2,409 Characters: August Mercer, Marcette de Lamoreaux, Sebastian de Vairemont, Vallerin the Butler. 

__________________

clan·des·tine

adjective

kept secret or done secretively, especially because illicit.

__________________

August Mercer __________________

“You will find the servant’s entrance at the back of the estate. All deliveries are to be dropped there.” 

Mercer had barely caught a glimpse of the butler’s cold gaze before the door was closing in his face. He’d expected this. Even if he’d bothered to run a comb through his hair or wipe the soot from his cheek, he would never belong in a place like this. They could smell the Brume on him, no matter what he did. And today, he wanted them to.

Show her exactly what she wants to see. The advice rang out through his mind. Repeating itself over and over again. Don’t pretty it up. She’s expecting a brume rat, give her one. 

“Aye. ‘Spose ya could send me ‘round back.” He leaned against the door frame, looking like an unwanted smudge of black leather against the white of the stone. “But if ya did tha’...” The door stopped, abruptly colliding with his boot. “Without acceptin’ this here callin’ card…” Scarred fingers slipped through the crack he’d created, waving the once-pristine card in the older man’s face. “I’d wager tha Lady’a tha house’d be more’n a li’l pissed.” White gloved fingers gently plucked the card from his grip. The butler’s nose wrinkled and his brow furrowed, causing the lines on his forehead to be even more pronounced. There was no way for Mercer to tell if the annoyance was caused by the black streaks that now marred the previously spotless gloves, or the fact that the was seal was, unmistakably, genuine, but either way, he relished it. 

“You are the goldsmith?” Wire-rimmed glasses slid down the butler’s nose as he took in the brume rat, gaze snagging on every smudge and every scar. “You are August Mercer?” 

“Aye. Now yer gettin’ it.” The cocky little grin that crossed the Machinist’s lips was enough to send further cracks radiating through the butler’s finely crafted facade. “Ya gonna let me in or wha’? Would’ve stayed m’arse at home if I’d known I was invited here ta jus’ ta freeze it off on tha damned doorstep.” 

“Now listen to me…” The calling card crumpled in the Elezen’s grip as he held his ground. Mercer’s grin widened. “It is my duty to…” 

“Vallerin...” 

Sebastian’s kin ain’t friendly. He’d been warned, and yet the saccharine sweet voice that echoed through the entryway sent chills down his spine. He didn’t know how something so delicate could inspire such fear, but he, too, found his resolve faltering as he watched his previously stalwart opponent shrink into himself. 

“Do be so kind as to show my guest to the parlor. We would not wish for him to catch cold.”

Mercer suppressed the chuckle that bubbled in his chest. He didn’t need to be a great player of the game to know that the growing chill in his bones was by her design. It almost made him feel bad for Vallerin. Almost. 

“Yes, my lady. At once, my lady.” Vallerin trembled, stooping into a chastened bow, allowing the door to swing open. “Do come in, sir.” 

Show them what they want.

“Now tha’ wasn’t so hard, was it?” Mercer caught a flash of sapphire silk on marble as he stepped inside, already shrugging off his coat. “This way then?” He started off in the direction he assumed his host had gone, leaving poor Vallerin behind holding his grease-stained coat and staring down at muddy boot prints. 

Marcette de Lamoreaux __________________

That accent. 

Marcette had known full well who and what her impending guest was, but nothing had prepared her for the moment his gutter drawl had violated her foyer. She wanted nothing more than to flee to her chambers, where a scalding scrub would cleanse her of the filth he had, undoubtedly, brought with him. But, alas, she had come too far to relinquish her hold on the situation. Her win was close. She could practically taste it. 

It was the sweet thoughts of her baby brother finally brought to heel that allowed her to maintain the demure smile she’d pasted across her face, even as she watched the heretic’s son gawp at the silver candlesticks atop the mantle. Perhaps she should have had them moved. It was, after all, best not to tempt the rats. 

“Please do accept my humblest apologies. I will have words with Vallerin. His behavior was most unacceptable.”  She gently brushed a chestnut curl from her face, gifting him a polite little smile in the same motion. “Ain’t really all tha’ worried ‘bout it. Was rilin’ ‘im up, anyroad.” The rat had finally managed to tear his gaze away from the silver long enough to hobble towards the settee. Why he bothered trying to hide his limp was beyond her. Even if he had no need for sympathy, battle scars were the only redeeming quality he had. He certainly wasn’t going to win any hearts with that crooked grin of his. 

“Tea?” She asked, always the perfect host, even to the vermin. 

“Nah.” The Machinist shook his head, black hair falling into his soot-smudged eyes. Is this what Sebastian would have looked like had their mother left him in the gutter he should have been born to? There was an undeniable resemblance. That smirk she’d always longed to wipe from her brother’s face now sat there mocking her as the man who wore it rubbed his grease-stained fingers on the periwinkle silk cushions beneath him. She would have to burn them when he left. There was simply nothing else to be done. 

“I ain’t really lookin’ ta take up much’a yer time. I would’a outright refused yer invite, but an uh… associate’a mine told me tha’d be rude. Ain’t sure why’ tha’s more rude than showin’ up an’ bullyin’ a lady’s butler ‘fore tellin’ ‘er tha’ ya ain’t wha’ she’s lookin’ fer, but…” 

Who was he to ever refuse her? An offer of patronage from the House of Lamoreaux was certainly worth more than the hovel he had crawled out of. It was a disgusting, yet also familiar, show of arrogance. One that she simply could not abide. 

“And yet you presume to know what it is that I am looking for without giving me so much as a moment to explain myself?” She reached for her cup of tea, praying silently to Halone that he would not see the fury he had stirred within her. “I am afraid your associate was correct, Mr. Mercer. That is quite rude.” Fiery blue eyes peered at him over the rim of her teacup. A girlish giggle bounced free from her lips. She hoped he would not see it for what it was, an attempt to pass her venom off as playful banter. 

“It’s jus’ tha’ I ain’t…” Tension radiated from his jaw. Leather creaked as he shifted in his seat. Her gaze practically dared him to rise up and meet her challenge. “Well, I don’t rightly know who’s been tellin’ folks I’m a goldsmith’a any sorta renown. Tha’ really ain’t wha’ I do.” 

A wave of disappointment washed over her, dousing her fire. Perhaps the similarities between him and their shared siblings began and ended with the dark hair and lopsided grin. For Sebastian had never once failed to meet her head on. A skill he had clearly inherited from their mother. 

“Oh, dear me, who was it that recommended you? I do believe it must have been Aveline de Heroux. Though, I could not tell you who told her. It takes someone far more clever than I to track down the true source of such things.” Relaxation returned to her and she brought her cup to her lips once more. This would be easy. All she had to do was keep him here, ruining her settee for just a bit longer. “What is it that you do then, Mr. Mercer? If you do not craft the most divine jewelry, then what is it you have to offer? I would so hate to have to send you home without having come to some sort of accord.” It was not a lie, though it was not him she sought to best. No, he had proven that task to be too trivial. It was the youngest of the heretic’s spawn that she wished to bring to his knees.

“Hate ta be tha bearer’a bad news, but unless yer lookin’ fer a prosthetic limb, I ain’t gonna be able ta help ya.” His attempts to hide the edge to his tone failed miserably. He seemed to be wound tighter than a top as he shifted once more, leaving even more soot streaks on her Thavanarian silk cushions. “Ain’t never sold a piece’a jewelry in m’life. It is jewelry yer lookin’ fer, yeah? Hate ta have wasted yer time.”

A chime rang through the foyer, signaling the arrival of what, or rather, who, Marcette was truly looking for. And he was right on time. How unusually considerate. “You have hardly wasted my time, Mr. Mercer. It is always beneficial to know of the best craftsman. In all fields.” She straightened her sapphire skirts as she rose from her seat, eyes already on the parlor door. “But, I am afraid I must cut our time together short, as it would seem I have another guest to attend to.”

“Don’t ya worry ‘bout it. Have uh… have a nice evenin’...” The relief was written all over his face. He wanted nothing more than to be rid of her. The feeling was mutual, of course, but only once she had gotten what she wanted from him. 

“I most certainly will.” Her tone was overly sweet. She did very little to hide her excitement as she stepped into the foyer to greet the guest who was already shrugging off his overcoat, a mop of wild black hair covering his face. 

“Ah, dear brother, you are just in time for tea.” 

Sebastian de Vairemont __________________

Sebastian de Vairemont found the sight of his brother standing there, grease-stained and soot-smudged, in the stark white of Marcette’s marble foyer almost as comical as it was frustrating. It was not, however, a surprise. 

His sister had never learned the true meaning of the word patience. Not in any aspect of her life. It was why she now found herself married to the youngest son of a lesser lord. Because, unlike Sebastian, she had never been capable of holding her cards close to her chest. She played what she drew, immediately, and without hesitation.        

“How very kind of you to wait for me.” The Bastard of Vairemont tossed his overcoat unceremoniously at the butler, who had to lunge forward to catch it, his wire glasses clattering to the floor. 

Sebastian didn’t give the man a second look. He kept his bright blue eyes trained on Marcette and her cat-like grin, closing the space between them with only a few steps.

“Oh! Before you go, Mr. Mercer… Sebastian, you might know the answer to the question that has been troubling us. Where was it that Aveline heard that little tidbit about the excellent goldsmith?” She was practically bouncing at her perceived success. “Surely she told you?”

“If she did, I have long since forgotten.” Sebastian leaned in to press a soft kiss to his sister’s cheek, refusing to give her the satisfaction of even acknowledging the game she already felt she had won. “Now why don’t you let this poor chap get on with his business? Surely you’ve had your fun?” His tone may have sounded jovial to some, but he had been besting Marcette for the better part of twenty-five years. He knew exactly how to send her spinning. 

And when she crossed her arms over her chest and stamped her foot, he knew he’d gained at least a little ground. 

“Fine.” Marcette brushed him off with a wiggle of lace-covered fingers, an act he knew meant she could no longer stand to pretend she enjoyed his company, not even to continue the show she’d so carefully scripted for his poor brother, who was still trying his level best to appear unphased. 

“I do hope to see you again soon, Mr. Mercer.” She crooned once more before vanishing back into the parlor. 

“Surely you’ve got better things to do with your time, Cette.” He remained in the doorway, allowing his gaze to return to Mercer if only to flash a quick wink and a happy little smirk. There was very little to be done if the man did not find the small act to be of any comfort. This was hardly the place to exchange pleasantries. 

“Or are you so lonely as to seek companions at the Machinist’s Guild?” Sebastian’s attention returned to his sister as strode into her parlor, making a mental note to congratulate Mercer on the disastrous state of that horrid settee. He would be glad to see it go. 

Marcette’s white knuckles beneath the lace of her gloves spoke volumes. That teacup was not long for this world. “Perhaps I should be asking you that. He’s your little charity case.” She huffed as he took a seat on the settee, careful to avoid the smudges. “Do not bother denying it. I am not an idiot, Sebastian.” 

That was something he very much wished to debate but now was hardly the time. “And you thought, what, that you would meddle in my investments? Surely your dear husband has many business ventures should you find yourself desperate to test the waters. You need not stoop to the patronage of craftsmen.”

“Business venture?” She scoffed, cold tea sloshing quite indelicately in her cup. “And do not attempt to use that smirk on me. I just sat here for half a bell staring it on the face of that grubby little bug you are trying to pass off as your business partner. Really, Sebastian. It’s uncanny.” 

“Yes.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, blue eyes sparkling. “And your husband has the butler’s eyes. Now, what shall I do with that information, I wonder?”

The sound that came from his sister could only be compared to the cry of a wounded couerl. She nearly leapt from her seat as she sent the teacup spiraling toward him. He dodged, deftly, sending it crashing into the stone floor. Tea now mingled with soot on the cushions of the ruined settee. 

Sebastian smirked. “Dear me, I do believe this settee will need to be replaced.” 

[kthynes]

THE MIXOLOGIST 🍸 (4/7)

part four: tom collins

previous part

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: bartender!steve rogers x fem!reader; fem!reader x andy barber

summary: after a rough break up you find yourself frequenting the same bar every night where you’re tended to by Steve who helps you through your heartbreak.

word count: ~5.9k

warnings: 18+ nsfw. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT — This part contains: course language, smut-ish thots, mutual pining, yearning, bit of slow burn. Character epiphanies.

Reblogs, likes and comments are encouraged! And as self explanatory as it should be, please do not copy and/or translate my works onto any other platforms. Cheers!

This series has not been beta’d so any mistakes are my own.

“What do you think about Tom Collins?”

You were perused like a sullen deer on headlights the moment you set your purse down, winded by Steve’s ever lending cogency that follows. There’s no hi, hello or a ‘how are you?’ Just a tall order of perfidy that bubbles in a polished Collins glass. And so with that, you take what’s given with reciprocation.

“Like the drink? Cheers.” You lift your brows and hasten a quick sip.

“And the goading gentleman to your right.” Steve adds. A mouse-like sound escapes from your lips and part way into the drink that you were ambitiously trying to double down.

“Don’t look yet…” He confides a little too quickly, pardoning your cadence that overtures by the second. You were the least bit curious, studying the moiety bartender who never backed down from a charismatic dare. Ever.

“I can’t believe you.” You shake your head with disbelief, mouthful and embittering the aftertaste of club soda while swatting away a questionable water stain that blotches the front of your silk tie blouse.

Great. You mumble your tyrannies, eyes flitting to the godly super soldier who pillory pins you with a similar look.

“What?” He innocently garbles while drying glassware on rotation. The long braided end of the muddling spoon hangs between his teeth and lips, holding onto dear life as he coyly turns to unload the dishwasher.

Today was like no other. You were in a continuous row of meetings when his late-afternoon text read: ‘Come by tonight. I need to see you, it’s dire.’

Unimaginable on any front, Steve's dinky little Nokia finally gave way and that’s how you were settled back at the bar, diaphragm painfully pressed up against the ledge and barely squeezing by in a full house. It’s some fucking night and you can’t tell if it’s a harbinger open mic or your inferred commisseration that’s on for show.

“This isn’t a matter of life or death, Steve. I’m not supposed to be here. Also what’s in this? Tastes a little out of the ordinary.” You point to your partially spilt drink, trying to remember the acquired taste of lemonade. “Straight up battery acid and laundry detergent.”

“You’d know?” He pops the spoon out and tosses it back in the wash basin. No one lampoons his craft, not even the woman he inexplicably revered.

“Fine! Don’t tell me… Like I care.” You flippantly counter. Steve chuckles, shaking his head that strums out the palatial house music. Your suffering came easy. He’d almost always see for it.

“It’s Yuzu juice, you spazz.” He adds, reaching for your glass and doubtlessly sipping on the drink himself.

“Yuzu what?” The way your eyes lit up was a glimmering prospect that Steve could not get enough of. He would have to hold your face right to gaze into them longingly, desperate to wane that connection.

Don’t do this to me. He mentally berates himself on your behalf, a tendon in his jaw flexes, feeling impalpably short handed.

“I guess not all types of lemons make lemonade.” He polishes off your drink for you and then goes back to tweaking the recipe. “Why don’t we try out John then.”

John Collins another reverted classic but with whiskey. You release a noncommittal grunt, distracted in your undoing as Steve relinquishes a cathartic smile.

“Tell me if this needs more bourbon.” The super soldier is saccharine, nudging another partially made drink with laser-like focus. Amongst the nightly kerfuffle, he’s curious to know and as the glass touches your plump lips, you’re disregarded again.

“Oh! Sorry!” A large bodied patron tumbles into you, preceding your fruitless conquest. Most of the aged bourbon now weighs down your top, the rest on the counter where the glass rolls on its side. Thank goodness for unbreakable glassware.

“Here, I got it.” Steve assures the crowd, sweeping in with another tea towel.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Last to start a fight, your hands come down from the high heavens and smack against your thighs, gawking like a fish out of water.

“Fuck I am so sorry.” The stocky stranger groans, jamming his hands through his mane, disbelievingly slow.

“Come out back and I’ll get you a spare shirt.” Steve discerns, swiping a hand under to unlock the half table as a gesture to get you in. But then a swarm of frat boys call out to him, demanding to be serviced.

“Just deal with them.” You dismiss.

Steve gives you an unsatisfactory one over, watching you release a long, fulsome breath. He can’t help but be distracted by the way your blouse clings onto the contours of your perfectly rounded breasts, the wet buttons nearly coming undone in the middle and further easing your frustrations. From a short distance, he could hear you moan a breathy little ‘fuck me’ over and over again. Invariably different from the literal meaning itself.

“Hey man.” Shit.

“You boys, uh, good for another round?” Steve comes out of a dazed state, quickly looking away for his own good.

“Hell yeah we are.” A Nordic blonde pipes with a hearty laugh. He has a small entourage of friends that gather next to him and look to the other, enthusiastic conversations overlapping their youthful mien while you’re pushed aside at their leisurely precedence.

“I am so very sorry about that.” One of his friends (presumed) extends to you, still by your side and close in your ear. You stiffen upright, crooning away from his ticklish aura. “S’not bad right?”

“I’m good, um, thanks.” You inspect the stain, swatting at it to no avail.

“I think you missed a spot there.” He adds, half lidded while pointing right at your chest. You shield yourself away and soon a Seth Rogen type of cackle shakes his form, obnoxiously disturbing.

“Oh for fucks sake.” You curse at your wits end, letting the sodden wet patch bear its own defeatist tale to tell. He caws a resounding ‘what’ that volleys between his friends.

“Let’er be Patsy.” A gangly brunette in a varsity hoodie reaches over and grabs the swaying giant by the collar, pulling him into a one arm chokehold. “Sorry ‘bout our friend, love. He’s a big dumb lug.”

“Fuck you, Anders.” They share a laugh and that’s when you lose yourself in an unwarranted cockamamie. “I was just tryn’a be… nice.” He coyly trails.

“Nice, huh?” Varsity jock snickers. Steve tucks his bottom lip in, returning to a pile up of drinks that were served on rotation. You stuck it to him as he worked the bend, ignoring the men next you who were way too young to entertain.

“You know I had a pivotal pitch to make. A multi-million dollar project just outside midtown Manhattan, for a long time investor and you just had to—“

“Do you trust me?” Steve interjects, grabbing a large glass bottle of what looked like Ketel One. The decanter is tossed up, down, behind his back and then over his shoulder with expertise. Show off.

“Now why would I do that?” You snap, tone deathly abhorrent. He finishes off his baton bottle work and begins to pour six shots at once.

“Why wouldn’t you?” He’s patronizing you. “Here you are fellas, cheers.”

“Ay cheers! Thanks man.” The surfer blonde bounces his brows at Steve, sliding a crisp ten before gathering and passing around the shots.

“Point to the nearest bridge and I’ll jump.” You state once it’s just the two of you duking it out.

“How ‘bout I point you to him instead.” He nods to the side while pouring some hard ciders into a frosted slim Jim.

“Steve.” You wail.

“Go on.”

Past the herd of patrons you spot a polished tycoon, ten seats down, sporadically clad in a dark blue, French made suit like a Wall St imperialist.

It’s a sight when your eyes meet in the polarizing darkness for the first time. He’s straight backed and almost eager to see you, a flat fist on his hip while the other hand softly flexes against the countertop. The vying apprehension is impalpable. He forces a hurried smile in your general direction and you did nothing but remain astute. Was he there this whole time? Watching? Hoping? Waiting?

“Like what you see?”

There wasn’t a bewitching iota of care as your bored gaze looms over his physique, noticing his thick tree trunk legs spread apart over the small round bar stool. He must’ve been uncomfortable, a pariah in a localist bar filled with hoppers and tosspots as Wes would eloquently put.

But a businessman (like him) meant business even while wooing their pursuit in gander. Although, this particular mogul in seized questioning had broad spanning shoulders, shapely arms and large feet to euphemize.

“Fuck this.” You shake your head, routing an escape.

Here’s the thing; mystery suit man wasn’t necessarily bad to look at. Very good looking to the teeth, freckle and beard. But you knew his type. A financial broker of some sort, an Alpha constant, someone you’d have to one up by means of survival. Your ex was the same animal. There’s no way you could break even or fall back.

“Don’t be like that, Y/N.” Steve softly agonizes.

“Is that really his name?” You question as the corner of your mouth twitches.

“His father owns a large corporate distillery, so he occasionally comes by to market inventory and close accounts while at it.” Steve incubates with a story, meeting your gaze that gyps his longtime associate. “Great guy.”

“I see and what does that have to do with me?” You stupidly wonder.

Steve, who is a little side tracked, wipes his hands on the back of his starchy Levi’s, carefully looking around his workstation for a stray muddler or a dowel in sight. As he tries to wield his attention, a stern divot forms in between his brows. His thoughts are a little divisive so he lets it be.

“Well, it just so happens that he’s seen you frollicking around the bar and has taken quite the interest. And I figured why not help a brother out.” He gives a crinkly eyed grin that doesn’t touch your heart.

“In me?” You’re gaffed. “I’m the pursuit?”

“Yes, you, of all people. Hi there, what can I get started for you?” He expertly turns his attention towards a shifty middle aged man in a J. Crew polo and khakis.

“Oh, um, I’m undecided at the moment.” He hums, distracted by his mobile.

“No rush.”

“So by accepting his drink I have to talk to him?” You retest, pointing to nothing. The glass was upright and empty.

“That would be an exemplary thing to do, seeing as you already put your dirty little mouth on it.” On the contrary, you both did.

“Yeah I don’t know if I’m ready to be pursued yet or punished for that matter.”

“Why not?”

“Because I just got out of a long, withholding relationship and the last thing I need is to get back in the game to eternalize those traumas.”

“That was over 6 months ago, Y/N. You’re allowed to talk to people, take things slow.” Steve muses, gallant and loud. “Y’know rock the boat if you will.”

“You clearly don’t get it… I mean look at your handy -you do the jerk off motion- roster.” You remind him of his self care tendencies.

“Works for me.” He holds up his trusty right hand which is clasped over a steel shaker and then starts fisting another spuming cocktail in conjecture. “Also, I don’t tell you these things for you to hold it over my head.”

Steve’s slightly embarrassed to admit that he hasn’t been on a proper date in a long time. Partly because being a worldly superhero rarely afforded him a plausible (and pleasurable) love life. So in more ways than one you both were akin to unavailability by definition and example.

“But I’m your informant who by happenstance makes you feel so fucking good about yourself... Tell me I’m right.”

“Not even the slightest.” So he says.

“Look Steve, I’m a complete weirdo. I like being on my own and left alone.”

“That’s fine. Your weirdness might be his kink.” You’re just about to open your mouth and say something, he curtly cuts you off. “But he just wants to get to know you.”

“And then what?” Your tone goes up an octave as if there aren't enough people who don’t know your business.

“See how he’s like first and if he’s not top shit then it’s back to square one, wherever the hell that is.”

“You’re out of your mind. Why are you doing this?” While casting a downward gaze, Steve cracks a gentle smile that irks every fiber of your being. “I’m serious.”

“I don’t know, I mean… I’d like to think that I care outside of my own spatial awareness.” He pauses, inquisitively biting down on his lower lip while muddling some berries, grinding harder when a more perverse thought hits him. “Also when was the last time you got laid?”

“Excuse me? That’s none of your business.” You squeak.

“So then make it his.” He chides, leaning in close to get a not-so-secretive point across. “Blow his mind, dick, whatever. Just don’t be so damn closed off.”

“You’re peacocking me.”

“Peacocking you?” Steve snorts at the term. “If anything your feathers are being unnecessarily ruffled right now.”

“I can’t be put out like this, Steve! I am not OK.” You grovel which then turns into contempt. “Do you understand that or do I have to talk stupid for you to get it?”

“Okay you know what… We’re gonna talk.” You faintly mutter a ‘fuck that.’ He ignores you. There are things being set aside, distinct clatter that mingles with the jive bar music playing above. You’re a little disappointed. Steve is nothing but determined.

He finally finishes up and passes off a diddly order to Wes before meeting you at eye level. He’s about to get real with you and that’s when your heart drops into your asshole. Inconsequentially, no one should do that to you but he does so anyways.

“Now before you throw a shit fit, I can assure you that he’s nothing like your ex. Just like you aren’t the same person you were when you first came into this bar. I mean do you remember how fucking insufferable you were?”

“You never let me see the day.”

“Yeah well, I took a chance on you... So let him.” Steve apprehended you with a terse, idiosyncratic look.

“God you are so un-fucking-believable.” You finally grit on the edge of consideration.

He lets out an airy little laugh while standing up straight. “I think what you’re trying to say is ‘thank you Steve for being so kind and considerate.’”

“Never that.”

“Here, let me get you both a booth started… That way I’m at peace.” He pushes back and calls over Ian to settle this arrangement, once and for all.

The more you flip flopped the less inclined you’d be to actually go on this date and Steve wanted you to be happy again. Not just with him but without him. He wanted you to consider someone new and young and exciting and human. Someone who’d make you feel whole and loved. Appreciated and valued. Someone who’d kiss you like their last breath and hold you closely. Steve wanted you for someone else and this seemed to be the only way to harbour off the impetuous feelings he had for you since that night he first met you.

“Oh my god, this is really happening.” You panic, both hands caging your face. Steve takes the lead, guiding you down the strip in slow stride. He patiently watches your resolve crumble even though you gracefully hold to your own. “I don’t think I shaved.”

“Don’t sweat it. You look absolutely gorgeous tonight irregardless of the titty stain–” his eyes fail to look away as they land on your chest. Your skin is set ablaze, a hand landing protectively on your chest.

“I’m gonna knock your two front teeth out.” He’d like to see you wrestle and try.

“You’ll be fine, here take this.” He manages to grab a spare shirt. His spare shirt. The one that he changed out of prior to his shift. You owlishly stare at him, imposing your innocence and disregard before he offers some sage assurance. “Just say when and I’ll get you out.”

“When.” You grab the waffle knit Henley, making yourself small in the ascend.

“Try that in Mandarin.” He levels up.

“I don’t know Mandarin!” You whisper yell.

“Exactly. You got this.” He turns to the man now stationed in front of you. “She’s all yours my friend.”

“Hi.” The handsome stranger lets out a breathy chuckle while slipping out of the stool and onto his feet. Standing at an impressive, neck breaking height, you’re completely enchanted. You swallow a thick bundle of nerves caught in your windpipe, wordlessly stock still. Shit.

“Hi!” You fucking cringe. “It’s… It’s Tom, right?”

“Tom? Oh no it’s, uh, Andy, Andy Barber.” He pageants a sheepish little half grin.

This fucker. “An-dy, right, I… I’m so sorry I thought–”

“By no fault of your own. I know Steve.” He dismissively shakes his head, clearly in on a joke that you failed to comprehend.

“Don’t we all?” You mutter.

“Cuuuute.” Ian appears from the throngs of people, briefly looking (gawking) at you first and then slowly eyes Andy who purses his lips into a grim smile. There’s a bit of a hold up as he starts swiping away on his iPad, face contorting over the bright blue lit hue.

“Alriiiight and we are all set! I can have you both seated now. Right this way.”

🍸

They say in the presence of absence you can almost feel everything and it’s true. You felt your heartbeat clamor to an uneven tempo, palms clammy and chafed as they glide along the runs in your black stockings, rubbing up and down, barely corroding friction.

Your ex once said: ‘You’d be prettier if you smiled.’ Uneasily, you grimaced.

There’s a long, rafting silence that follows until your drinks are finally placed in front of you. You stick to water and Andy chooses to have a sweaty pilsner. Compliments of the house, of course.

“Are you sure you don’t want something a little stronger?” He teases, quickly thanking the waitress on standby.

“I’m good for now, thanks.” You take a distracted sip of water, eyes wandering the annex, hotly turning away from the gorgeous man plucked for your pleasure. Andy, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to mind your nervousness because he’s right there with you.

“Well, let me know if you change your mind because I can definitely recommend some on brand items.” He takes a rivaling swig and studies your exact facial proportions up close for the first time. Like Steve and any other man in the precipice, your striking beauty is an immeasurable mark. Even Andy catches himself staring a second too long.

“Of course.” You finally unnerve a smile that sees a new light of day and he nods, understandably.

“I know you probably weren’t expecting to be set up.” He states, scratching the porous surface all while you let out a haphazard chuckle.

“It’s been awhile that’s for sure. But I guess we all have to start somewhere right?” You wearily confess, pressing your lips together in a thin line.

“Yeah.” He exhales, reliving many instances where he’s tried to put himself out there but failed miserably. There’s some silent wallowing and now you took pity on him, straightening your back a little.

“So tell me one thing, Andy.” You begin, pulling him from his self-doubts with a saccharine look.

“Lay it on me.” He hums almost immediately, matching your coy demeanour at par. He was undeniably handsome so you decided to give him the time of night.

“Why liquor?” You lean up against the table, concurring a congenial approach. A small, delighted smile tugs at the corners of his bearded mouth, entertaining your fervour with his own.

He lowers his chin, letting you in on his sworn secrecy that takes a crack at your inquisition. “I’m glad you asked.”

🍸

Steve hears your melodically in tune laughter. An open soliloquy, much likeness to you, weaves through an unassuming crowd that rushes the works of a good cocktail and personal milieu. Midst it all, you were being unintentional and cute, letting your hair down for once, chasing a pursuit.

Steve candidly takes turns working the pike while you’re hysterical about cereal being soup.

“You can’t be so literal.” You cock your head to side, leaning into the conversation more with poise.

“Why not?” Andy pushes back. He has an arm splayed over the top of the vinyl seating as you begin to encroach his space. You’re both facing each other, bodies turned at an angle and away from the crowd. Andy, respectfully, admires your free-spiritedness and childlike wonder. You were more so taken by his dissuasion, at ease with the fact that Andy Barber was truly as good as they came.

“Bloody Mary’s.” You finally conjure.

“Bloody Mary’s.” Andy echoes, his hand makes a fist and then he lies the side of his head against it, completely beguiled.

“That’s soup.”

“Oh yeah?” He mocks you, earnestly laughing in return.

“Yes!” You harrumphed, voice carrying over.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Andy’s eyes thin out over another sip of beer.

“Because you were trying to be funny.”

“And did it work?” He states, expectantly. Your mouth is drawn open and his gaze flickers for a quick second. You were about to say something insignificant and coy. Steve took the time to listen closely, his movements slow down and there’s some acclimating trepidation.

“Hey Steve, table 3 ordered some margs awhile back and they haven’t been served yet.” Matt swoops in after clearing his bar end. All the worry lines are apparent as he stalls by dishwasher. “What’s the hold up my guy?”

“I’m on it.” Steve distances himself at keel. His hawk-like eyes are still fixated on you, engrossed by every little misdemeanour for show.

Your words are amiss now. The smile on your face is tenfold. Andy matches your gracious tenure with a little self-satisfied grin and that resonated with Steve when he felt infatuation (and agitation) at its best. Without a doubt you were giving your blind date the same repertoire you’d belly Steve with and that didn’t sit right with the super soldier himself as he sludges crushed ice into a chalice.

“Is he supposed to be the one?” Matt inquires, folding his arms over his chest.

“He’s a possibility.” Steve answers while briefly looking over his shoulder. The other bartender huffs while leaned up against the churning machine. He’s tentative on holding back but then goes against his own moral code, purely out of chaos.

“Does she know that he’s a widow?” Matt makes himself useful again, passing limes in an attempt to speed up and sour the process. “A father on the mend.”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not.” He grumbles to himself.

“Honest thoughts… Go on, I wanna hear it.” Steve challenges. Matt rolls his eyes, prying open another drink mixer.

“No you don’t.” He exhausts.

“Try me.”

The two men box step around the narrow strip, wordlessly shelving a tray of missed margaritas. This goes on for a bit before there’s a grievance in order.

“Look man, Andy's great and all. Sublime even. But he’s so far down the line, don’t you think?” Matt carefully advises while straining to decant fresh lime juice into each goblet.

“He’s good for her.” Steve forewarned, passing the attendant another bottle of orange liqueur. He offers what he thinks is palatable for the mix but Matt feels otherwise.

“Now that’s some unconvincing bullshit.” He berates. “Also pass me the Curaçao.”

“Why don’t you ever look out for her?” Steve stops midway into his absent cocktail mastery. One martini glass down, many others empty.

“Because I know where we stand.” Matt snorts. “Whereas your inclination is a little different. Curaçao.”

“Don’t.” Steve grits, finally sliding the requested bottle across the vinyl.

“I see the way you look at her, brother.” Matt patronizes him. “It doesn’t get past me one bit and that’s fine, feelings are funny like that.”

Steve cocks his head aside with a resigned look, jaw ticking in place when their eyes meet. Was it that obvious?

“Just make sure when the time comes that you let her down easy…” He uncorked the bottle, gracing his friend a tight smile. “However your superhuman heart tells you so.”

“I’m not trying to hurt her.” The honey blonde bar back defends, running a hand over his bearded mouth.

“I’m not!” He hears himself fretfully repeating the statement, jolted with guilt.

“I get that. But if you aren’t being honest with your intentions then you’re no better than her ill advised ex.” Matt reminds him. He finishes up and quickly plates the margaritas, garnishing each drink with a lime slice. “Do right by her and maybe she’ll owe you another lifetime.”

“We’ll see about that.” Steve ponders over the idea of his lifetime versus yours and if the wait would be worthwhile.

“Hey man I hate to boss the boss but can we pick up the pace?” Matt states in close proximity to Steve, earning him a shove.

“Fuck outta here.”

🍸

The evening crowd lulls out by the eleventh hour. Stools are being flipped over the small serving tables. There’s some collective chaos as Steve peruses by, ceaselessly endeavouring his managerial duties. He’s bounded by his wait staff who’d constantly approach him, curtailing his need to keep after you.

But you were fine. Swilled by the sweetest wines and cocktails. Andy took good care of you, making sure your tasting flights were in order and water was plentiful. He was a true gentleman. Steve did good by you this time. You owed him that.

“Thank you for tonight.” You hum, standing your ground while a bustle of servers pass by. They’re just as smitten by you and Andy who stare eye to eye at a cordial distance. From out of the blue Shaylene gawks with a double thumbs up. Her contentious approval makes you breathe laughter, bowing your head.

“Shaylene?” Andy surmises, curious enough to look over his shoulder.

You nod lazily. “The one and only.”

“Always onto me.” He clucks, shaking his head. “All in good fun though.”

“Of course.” You add while rummaging through your purse.

“Hey, I was thinking… we should, um, do this again sometime.” He offers, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “If you’re up for it, that is.”

“I’d like that.” You look up from your phone to see his brows shoot up to his gelled hairline, mouth forming a puckered ‘o.’ He’s taken aback. But then again was there supposed to be a catch?

“Great!” He exhales after holding his breath for some time. Relieved. “Wow, OK! We can, um, definitely make that happen.”

“You were really holding off there, huh?” You tease, biting down on your bottom lip.

“I mean I didn’t want to seem too ambitious.” He embibs and then mutters an affliction under his breath. “Or out of practice.”

“You’re good.” You coo, tone low and insouciant. His smile broadens, creating perfect little creases along his face and the corners of his eyes.

“So how’re we feeling?” Andy initiates a small step forward that yearns for closeness.

“Barely buzzed.” You give him a sideways look as he hovers over you, huffing with laughter. He’s outright predictable. Showing his interest through the art of subtlety and the small buoyant gestures that paralyzes your entire state of being. Though at moment, you were really contemplating on calling an Uber —but then again, where would that take you?

Home, dummy.

Your heart skips a beat when Andy’s hand lightly grazes your forearm, holding you in place but not astray. “Your centre of gravity is telling me otherwise.”

“I promise you that I’m fine. It’s these shoes.” You kick up your foot, almost taking him out by the shins. “Oh fuck I’m so sorry! Wasn’t trying to kick you there.”

“Well that’s one way to get a man on his knees.” He winks and you both erupt into a fit of belly hurting laughter. It’s a fleeting ordeal as Andy gets a missed call.

“Ah shoot I should get this.” He contemplates while glancing at the blue white screen. In close stride he tells you that he’ll be out front waiting for you in his car. You insist on taking an Uber. He’s not having it.

“You’re coming with me. That’s that. No if’s, ands or buts.”

You jerk your head back thinking the same thing that crosses his mind. Sex. “Oh c’mon not like that!” He defends boisterously, hands spread apart.

“Yeah yeah, that’s what they all say.” You snipe, only giving him a hard time.

“Let’s not go there alright?” Those were the final parting words before Andy's phone bleeps again.

He finally excuses himself, ducking out of the ambient establishment that leaves you empty and satiably hollow.

As you relapse, your eyes cut to Steve who’s hunched over stacks of paperwork and QA audits. You were staring, wondering if this is what he wanted for you. Muscle memory brought you right to him.

“There’s my girl.” He harps under his breath, deeply unaffected by his due diligence and your impervious candour. He’s attentively going over a long rap sheet, tallying profits in one go while you stand before him, unabated.

“Hey you.” You barely get by on a whisper, plucking at some cocktail picks left aside.

“Now was that so bad?” He inquires, absentminded. The ballpoint pen slashes against the paper and then he bores you with a half lidded gaze that piques. You’re practically a fish out of water, not entirely drunk but done for, almost aloof.

Steve was now impolitely staring, ploughed by the dopey look on your face with mere decrepitude.

“Terrible, actually.” You joke.

“Oh boo.” He reverberates with a small, victorious grin that tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah he told me everything I needed to know.” You quip, following a heavy hearted sigh.

“Everything?”

“The good, the bad and the ugly.”

“So he basically trauma dumped.” Steve comes to a stark realization, shaking his head.

“Maybe that’s what he needed… Someone to hear him out.” You mope as he puffs out his chest and stands a little taller, squaring you off in perfect form, worried as can be.

“I mean I don’t always take things personally and that was probably a good enough opportunity for him.”

“Y/N.”

“Unironically, he reminds me of me.”

There’s an indescribable look on Steve’s face, well concealed by his fulsome beard and beady blue eyes. He lowers his tone to a salacious entendre. “Not an easy person to walk away from, huh?”

“Is that how you feel about me?” You challenge, arms folded over the tacky counter.

How did Steve feel about you? What could he possibly say that would make the most sense?

“I like that you’re around.” He calculates on a lighter note, distractedly taking apart a mixing stand. “You somehow make a busy day better.”

“So you wait on me?”

“In more ways than one.” He grunts with some unsaid meaning and connotation behind his nonchalance. You stare right at him, observant of his every tantric move. At the drop of a rag he stops what he’s doing to notice. “What?”

Here goes…

“Were you meaning to get over Peggy?”

After harassing Matt one night you came to know about Peggy Carter and ever since then it’s been a nagging repertoire.

Steve’s countenance hardens as a rough sigh escapes his lips. He carefully thinks through what he’s about to say and when he does it’s a bit short handed.

“No but it just so happened that I did.” He admits, barely meeting your gaze.

“How?”

“It’s complicated.” Steve dismisses. He’s unable to reconcile his love for her when he sees the world in you. “Can we just—“

“You’re complicated.”

“What exactly do you want me to say?” He flummoxes, wildly disoriented.

“I want you to be honest with me.” Andy opened up to you about his previous relationship and now you wanted Steve to do the same. Except with him he’s stubborn, eulogizing his past convictions with some jest that you certainly don’t account for.

“She died before I got the chance to see her again. I made peace with the fact and now I’m moving on.” He deadpans. “How’s that for honesty?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Steve jerks his head back with a slight scoff, crassly torn by this conversation.

“I didn’t know.” You defend.

“And you shouldn’t care either.” He adds, a hand on his hip while the other extends out in the opposite direction. “Goodnight Wes.”

“Why not?” You quickly assert, forearms bearing the weight of your body as you lean forward.

“Because I’m fine.” Lies. Captain America isn’t fine. He’s worried. He has the world counting on him yet here he was trying to be inconsolable, wishing you’d prod less. “Really.”

“Truly?” You chastise him.

“Yes!” Steve laughs as he takes apart his apron a little too aggressively. The house lights flicker and both of your eyes turn up. “That’s our cue by the way.”

“Do you want to be with someone like her?”

“Why do you have someone in mind?” He says over his shoulder while pacing down the backend.

“Maybe.” You hum. Steve chuckles knowing there’s no one else quite like you; his only consuming thought.

“How ‘bout we get you a cab instead.” He appears in front of you again. This time he’s donning a roughed up denim jacket, swiping on chapstick ever so liberally, ready to go home.

“I'm good. Andy’s my ride back.” You chirp, half lidded.

“You two…?” He falters, capping the small Blistex tube.

“No we’re not banging it out.” You mock him. “He was just so kind enough to offer, that’s all.”

“So it’s expected then.” Steve shoves both hands into his pockets, nodding at Matt who makes an Irish exit. “There he goes…” The bar back mutters under his breath upon the commotion.

“You need to fucking stop.”

“I’m just messing with you. I know the guy. He wouldn’t pull a fast one.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” There’s that moseying, ‘you-don’t-know-what-the-other-persons’ thinking silence again.

“Thanks for trying though.” You eyed him suspiciously.

“Wouldn’t have worked out otherwise. Now leave, I need to close shop.”

“Yeah you do.” You chortle, backwardly hobbling off the two-step landing. “Later bum!”

“Get home safe, stink.”

As you assail through the large barn doors and twirl towards Andy’s R8, Steve can’t help but release a deep seeded sigh. His head falls forward, surrendering to much of his own asservations that lambaste him to be truthful. Brow stitched together, a firm fist lands on top of the bar counter, slowly pounding once, twice before he gathers himself, shaking his head clear of admonition.

Honest feelings and bad timing make for the most painful insinuation to prelude. And in the wisest way so, he’s going to have to get used to being without. Just being on his own.

NEXT

[kinky-moth]

sorry can’t get it out of my head I just REALLY want to fuck a lawyer rn. the unnamed lawyer in iasip turned something in me on idk. something abt men in suits well composed etc and like u said turned into whining messes.. 😭 too bad I’m too broke to run in those circles but then again prob for the better cause it’d be On SIGHT . anyway rambling aside yeah could I have the most unethical lawyer client fucking in his office or smthing thank you :)

Hey there! Sorry for the delay, I love getting these requests !! Y'all are so creative with them and I'm here for it

CW: drugging, teasing, light bondage, begging, overall sub/dom dynamic

"Well, you sure didn't think of the consequences" he sighed, looking at the papers in hand: this client was a particularly flashy one in their crimes, cocky. "Have you practiced your lines?"

Across from him sat his client, who clearly did not know how to use a chair properly: a smug expression on their face as if they had already won "relax babes, I got this" He had his fair share of arrogant clients, no big deal "I suggest we revise," he spoke calmly "I reckon jail wouldn't go easy on you." They laughed, eyeing him up and down "ohh yea darling, pretty faces like mine are a delicacy" they smirked "but I don't mind, you know."

He didn't have a chance to reply; "I'm the type that likes to have fun, to live the moment" they winked "to follow instincts and pleasures" "..yea, I can see that you don't bother yourself with hiding" he dared to provoke, hoping they'd sit down and cooperate fully for once

Sadly they already opened their bag to pull out unnamed pills for fucks sake this guy he remained composed, slightly raising his voice "put those down. We can't afford to waste time" he caught their attention "Oh, you want these?" they glanced almost innocently "come take 'em" "-if you plan to keep on this behavior I'll be forced to disregard this job completely" he tried to impose himself, standing up from his seat: that's what gave them the opportunity to grab at his tie and pull him into a greedy kiss, their tongue slipping past his lips with ease along with the fast acting pill which quickly dissolved into his mouth, almost unnoticeably

He stumbled back, wiping his mouth as a slight pink tinted his cheeks, he'd have kicked them out of his office already if he wasn't trying to figure out what was now spreading through his body: he felt lightheaded and slightly tingly, his mouth still holding their taste.. saccharine and seeping in fast.. this was no good was it?

"Hey big boy, you look like you need something" they teased "bit of water perhaps? You thirsty babe?" Oh of course they'd say that; "I'm just fine, now if you will please just bare with me-" "Oh bare with you? That's funny, it's what my first boyfriend said while he pushed his cock in m-" "I don't care. Do you wanna walk out of this free or not?" his composure was starting to crack and they took great amusement in it, now leaning over his desk seductively "He wasn't that different from you, I seem to have a thing for men with authority.." they bit their lip "I bet you're just as big."

The heat was setting in quickly, he tried his best not to get any.. inappropriate reactions on his workplace, yet he couldn't push his client away, his limbs had begun to feel weak That's when his expression had begun to reflect his uneasiness: even if the drug had calming effect he wasn't one to give in, and neither was his client In fact, their expression changed too, they looked sympathetic and soft; "hey.. are you good? I was just messing around a bit, you know" they moved slowly, as not to startle him, and joined his side "you don't have to worry about anything, it's not harmful" their hand reached out to caress his arm, making it burn up

He felt disoriented, their every touch made him tingle, he looked up with lost eyes only to be perceived as utterly adorable: "it's okay, it's okay, we're just relieving some stress yea? Just helping each other.." they sounded so soothing all of a sudden.. "we're just doing what feels good, just for a bit.." so alluring... their hand snuck lower, he felt his head spin as they gave slow but confident strokes through his pants "So you dress to the left huh?" they felt his length up as it throbbed, begging to be released "pfft oh yea, you sure are a big boy~" he started grabbing at the armrests, this was wrong, so wrong but the words just wouldn't come out, not without helpless moans, he had to keep composed.. "how about we get you comfortable, Daddy?" That felt like the beginning of the end.

His shirt was open and his boxers pulled down just enough to give them a good view of the thing that was sure to give out his true feelings, exposing him completely That wasn't enough though, they wanted to make use of his belt, and he let them tie his hands behind the chair without resistance.. because secretly, he wanted to pretend he had no choice but to take this.. he didn't want to admit to himself that he willingly let all of this happen to a respected man like he was That's how his wrists ended up hopelessly secured and his eyes covered, simply by taking advantage of his shame, and his need.

Of course they weren't done teasing, covering his body in marks was a start, tracing with their lips from the jaw all the way down to work him up was great and all, and it got him leaking precum.. but it wasn't enough "Ahh doesn't this feel so good?" they teased, running their finger up and down his length, feeling up every curve, every vein "to let the heat course through you, to let it culminate, reach it's maximum.." their hand found it's way to his balls, lightly stroking them as they went to hold them "someone's blueballin' eh? You really sound in need of someplace to bury your dick" they mocked but he only felt more desperate "maybe someplace warm, what do you think? Somewhere to blow your load deep inside of.." they run their tongue over his tip, tasting him That was it. A breathy noise finally escaped his lips

They looked up with their doe eyes, almost incredulous "Did you.. did you just whine?" they chuckled "does the big boy wanna jizz in me that badly?" They were so crude, he only could whine louder "Oh you do?" words were so hard for him, he knew he could only make noise "well Daddy, if you want me you should ask" Oh, that bastard "Come on" they grinned "say 'please'." It took all he had to muster the force to think, let alone speak But he did, he bucked his hips pathetically as he pushed out breathy pleas.. it was so pitiful they couldn't help but suddenly bob their head down his cock, taking all of him at once

He groaned loudly, eventually letting out softer noises dammit does this bastard have no gag reflex? They didn't, they effortlessly took and swallowed his load, letting some spill out just so they could tease him about just how much he came He laid trembling, his mind still clouded yet a bit more clear, his makeshift blindfold was removed just to let him see the mess he made.. of course they were met with a weak glare "Oh c'mon big boy, don't you feel more relaxed now?" they gently patted his head, he looked quite spent "see there's no need to stress over this, I've had my fair share of trials" Before he could reply, they were on top of him, rubbing their bare skin against his still hard cock "this thing won't be going down for a while.. so just let me handle all the law stuff, you're more fit to breed me" of course this was their plan from the start, they smiled "alright, Daddy?"

He only could whine

[parfumieren]

Eau de Fleur de Soie (Kenzo)

There is a tree, stunted and scoliotic, that can be found trailing its wispy foliage over the front yards of suburban South Jersey. This is the Persian silk tree -- Albizia julibrissin, AKA mimosa -- a leguminous native of Asia that has found new vitality in the Pine Barrens' sandy soil.

Neighborhood children derive endless delight from stroking its leaves to watch them snap shut (a self-protective trick botanists call seismonasty). Its papery seed pods can be written on with berry ink and passed as love notes; if the receiver doesn't care for the message, they can crumple the pod to powder in one hand. And during the summer, the silk tree produces spectacular clusters of finely tasseled coral-pink flowers. These make wonderful fantasy powderpuffs, but they seem to offer precious little in the way of natural perfume.

This seems to be the idea behind Fleur de Soie, the 2008 chapter of Kenzo's Eaux de Fleur serial. Fleur de Soie uses a flyaway silk tree blossom as its totem image, to great dramatic effect. But in reality, Fleur de Soie is all show and no scent.

Can a perfume be seismonastic? As I sprayed it on the inside of my arm, Fleur de Soie disappeared almost immediately, as if it could not bear to be in contact with my skin. I had to spray several more times to build up enough fragrance to analyze, only to find it saccharine and faintly metallic, self-effacing, almost a non-smell. Now, I know that perfumers love to claim the most exotic natural materials for their inspiration.... but with all the world's botanical references to choose from, Jean Jacques picked the very one whose primary instinct is to shrivel up and hide.

The sheer weakness of this composition points to a certain poverty of imagination in the perfumer. Most people have no idea what a silk tree blossom smells like. Why not make it smell like heaven-- or hell, if that's your whim? Even in fantasy -- no, ESPECIALLY in fantasy -- a flower ought to smell, well, if not good, then like something, anything. If the "silk flower" referenced by this perfume is the sort you buy in a craft store, then its lack of fragrance makes perfect sense. But even a fabric flower glued to a plastic stem is capable of being beautiful, or of evoking romance. Isn't it?

Alas, the only thing Fleur de Soie evokes is a glass of fruit punch so diluted with ice cube meltwater that it's lost all color and taste. No matter how sticky-sweet or artificially-flavored the full-strength beverage might be, it's GOT to be more fun than this.

ADDENDUM: This scent improved a thousandfold with the addition of a thin underlayer of amber. It grew pinker, sweeter, even hinting at a touch of black cherry essence. Perhaps Jean Jacques was so entranced with the vision of a weightless silk petal floating on the breeze that he entirely forgot the concept of including a base note.

Scent Elements: "Silk flower", plus some fruity-floral chemicals. At the time of its release, the Kenzo website claimed that the ingredients of its Eaux de Fleur were picked from real live trees, which is plausible only if these trees live in a laboratory.

[nyanbary]

The juice of the fruit dribbles down her fingers, to the grooves where they meet at the base, then travel down to her palm. It sits, sticks, festers until the sickly sweet, halfway to saccharine liquid solidifies and creates a sheen.

It's a delicious tangerine. That she'll admit that much. But she cannot eat anything else.

Cassandra plucked this fruit herself, from the field outside her own house. It isn't of the fae world. She can leave this den of wolves and satiate her hunger.

"You are a smart girl, for bringing your own sustenance."

Cassandra doesn't say anything in response, as the boy in front of her shouldn't be dignified a response.

"Are you trying to hurt my feelings by not talking to me?" He asks, "It'll take a lot more than that."

Cassandra snorts, but doesn't respond. Letting him speak once more.

"I would love to try a bite, if you are generous."

"And what would I get in return?" Cassandra asks, "The fae do not deserve gifts."

"I suppose not." The fae boy smiles, with teeth too bright and too sharp, "What shall you want?"

"My husband's return." Cassandra states her purpose, the only reason she delved into this land of controlled chaos, "I want him back. I want him to come home and to do so with me."

"Then your will should be granted." The fae boy says, "If, you do one more thing for me. After all, a tangerine isn't that great of a gift, for what you want."

"What is it?" Cassandra asks, "What singular thing do you want?"

"A kiss." The fae boy says, "I want to taste the juices from your lips as you do mine."

Cassandra pauses, thinks. One kiss for her husband, it isn't all that bad.

"Fine."

She tosses him the fruit. Somehow he gets it opened and peeled without any mess, unlike her. He bites into the fruit, eats it, and licks his lips, so that the tangerine will be all she tastes.

When his display is over, Cassandra does what she is asked to do. Because this wouldn't be the first time she's given something like this up.

And if this'll lead to her husband's return, she'll do anything to get him back.