#barista writing

[cryptid-cave]

Currently thinking about a reader who, while having a full-time job and playing the part of a “real adult” pretty well for the most part, is still kind of lost and pathetic. It feels less like they’re living and more like they’re surviving, getting by on their own with just a cat for company.

Enter John Price, who’s currently on medical leave and just itching for a project. Maybe reader works at a store near his home that he shops at almost every other day, or works at the library where he goes when he needs to get out of the house. Either way, he spots this pretty little thing who clearly needs some love and guidance, preferably from a strong, gentle hand - and who better to do that than him?

Anyways, save me bossy and demanding Price with a savior complex, save me

[pernesophe]

Coffee Shop Girl x Hoshina Soshiro

(Minors, Ageless and Blank Blogs DNI)

Synopsis: You’re well known around the third division base as the barista who works at the coffee shop, and after working (and living) on base for some time you’ve developed feelings for the Vice-Captain. What does he do when your feelings are revealed? WC: 3203 MDNI. TW: smut- f reader, (f)masturbation, cunnilingus, vaginal penetration

Hoshina’s Scent is based on Carbonara by Lorenzo Pazzaglia Reader’s Scent is based on Chestnut Cream and Vanilla Cream by Jousset Parfums

The hour had grown late as moonlight filtered through the tall windows of the main corridor on the JAKDF 3rd Division base while Vice-Captain Hoshina made his way from the training room towards his quarters. Along the way, he cut down a side hall lined with rooms belonging to the ‘regular personnel’ and interns who lived on base. Passing the last door on the right, one violet iris clocked that it was slightly ajar, and then he heard the faintest whine that halted him in his steps.

“Soshiro…” the sound of his name slipped through the crack between the door and the jam to where he stood inches away. Silently he crept closer, pressing his fingertips to the smooth wood to push it open slightly. First he was hit with hints of fresh roasted coffee swirled with chestnut cream, and then he saw you. The beloved barista of the 3rd Division, laid out on your bed under a thin blanket with parted thighs, small movements fluttering the blanket covering your core. Just as he was about to slink away with the memory stored away, your head canted back into the pillows as you released another breathy moan, “fuck Soshiro…”

Hoshina felt his eye twitch slightly at your desperate sounds. Maybe it was weeks of nonstop Kaiju attacks, or the utter lack of sleep, or the endless meetings with the higher ups… Whatever it was - your honeyed whimper shoved all rational thinking from his mind. Stepping into the room fully before he shut the door completely with a muted click. Wordlessly he strode to the end of your bed without making a sound.

“Usually I prefer to be addressed as Vice-Captain Hoshina, but I’ll make an exception just this once.” Chiding you playfully as he knelt on the edge of the bed. Shooting up with a surprised squeak, brows raised in shock, as you went to wipe your juices on the blanket, but Hoshina caught your wrist and quickly took your fingers into his mouth. Gliding his wet muscle over your digits as his plum-colored eyes studied your utterly stunned expression, a satisfied groan emitted from deep in his chest while he licked you clean of your sweet, musky arousal. After releasing them from his mouth with a pop, he shot you an approving smirk.

”You taste so good,” Hoshina murmured against the pads of your fingertips, breathing out notes of smoked pink pepper and bourbon sandalwood that fanned over your cheek. Slowly you began to scoot away, but as you did his grip tightened on your wrist, “Where are you going y/n? Weren’t you just moaning my name? And now you’re trying to run away?” He whispered the string of questions, faux hurt tinging his tone as his vibrant irises pinned you in place. He knows my name?! Heat rushed to your face from embarrassment, swiftly averting your gaze to the fuzzy, rust colored blanket covering your lap.

”Oh? Too shy now? I can just leave and let you finish all by yourself.” Hoshina brought his lips to the center of your hand before uttering the words into your palm - violet eyes cut to meet your shocked glance - hints of your balsam, sweet-almond fragrance lifted off your supple skin to stain his. Again, you were too embarrassed to muster any words, and after a drawn out staring contest the indigo haired man shrugged and simply said, “okay, then.” Sighing in disappointment as he released your wrist and began to climb off the bed, taking with him that black pepper infused oriental rhum redolence that was reminiscent of an indulgent meal.

”Wait!” Crying out as you sprung forward, catching the sleeve of his coat between your fingertips. Hoshina faced you again - arching his brow incredulously, but the gleam in his eye was playful.

”You just had to say so - no need to cry about it,” Hoshina chuckled low as he crawled up the bed to be sitting on his knees between your thighs. Slowly, he brought his face close enough to hover his lips over yours, but didn't close the distance. Tenderly, he tucked a few strands of your hair behind your ear with his fingertips. Gazing into his amethyst irises you could see he was studying your face closely. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed out, warm spiced air fanning your lips, but still he didn't move any closer. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was just being sentimental, but the way his lips quirked up at the corners indicated that he was teasing. 

“Soshiro…” you pleaded quietly - not entirely certain what for, and still unconvinced that this wasn’t some super realistic dream.

”Yes? Is something wrong?” Hoshina feigned genuine concern as he leaned forward, placing his hands on either side of your head - caging you in. Still, he made no move to kiss you. Your breath hitched in your throat from the rising tension as you tried to focus on the purple irises that have been studying you this whole time. At some point the playfulness morphed into pure hunting instinct. It felt like you were trapped in the jaws of a fanged beast, and for some reason that excited you. “Talk to me Y/N,” Hoshina urged you in a gentle, yet commanding tone.

”Y-you’re teasing me…” mumbling as you tried to lean back a little, but he followed you fluidly. 

”You don’t like it when I tease you? Cause you seem pretty excited…” Continuing with taunts as his lips came so close to touching yours that you could taste the sugar-spiced coconut clinging to his breath, spurring you to whine involuntarily. He chuckled before adding, “See? But, anyway, tell me what you do want.”

”M-more…” murmuring in a hushed tone, as you averted your gaze to the white wall to your right.

”More… teasing? But you just said-” Hoshina started again, but you had finally had enough - facing him, you cupped his cheeks before pressing your lips firmly to his. Hoshina tittered against your mouth, obviously enjoying this, but not ready to give up the game just yet. Parting for air, he smirked down at you arrogantly while noting, “You can’t answer my question if you’re kissing me.” Punctuating his statement with a gentle nip to your bottom lip.

“Soshiro.” You groaned faintly, “Please just kiss me more!” your exasperated whisper bounced off the walls, making Hoshina laugh outright - revealing his sharp canines in all their predatory glory.

”Okay, okay - I will…” He dipped his mouth closer to yours again, halting a breath away to pose one last query with a knowing grin, “and where do you want me to kiss you?”

”On my lips Soshiro, please!” You cry once more - anticipation coursing through your veins from the prolonged teasing. Soshiro’s grin spread wide across his face while he leaned back on his heels, and then hooked his arms under your knees.

”Okay. I understand,” he assured you before swiftly lifting you from under your knees and dragging your bare cunt to his mouth. Leaving you half folded on the bed while your other half was pressed to Hoshina’s torso, held within his strong arms. Shooting you a look of pure victory before pressing his lips to your drooling pussy, followed by a swipe of his tongue through your folds. What started out as an exasperated sigh quickly became you throwing your head back as a lewd moan escaped you. 

“Shhshhshh… We don’t want anyone coming to check on us.” Hoshina barely separated from your core to susurrate the words in a low, gravelly timbre before diving back into your messy heat. Vigorously drinking every drop of the irresistibly rich musk that you had to offer until he felt delirious.

Dragging the tip of his tongue between your glistening folds, up to your sensitive bundle where he swirled around it until your hands were fisted in the sheets. Your teeth sank into your bottom lip to contain the lewd sounds bubbling out of your chest. A pair of vibrant, indigo irises observed your expression intently, tittering from your attempts at restraint. Gripping your thighs bruisingly, he brought his tongue down to your entrance before languidly pressing through that ring of muscle that gave way to your velvety walls. A shocked gasp was torn from your throat, finally parting your lips, the second the vice-captain began plunging his lithe muscle in and out of your fluttering hole. Hoshina groaned directly into you as your creamy arousal burst over his taste buds, all the while teasing you closer to the edge. 

From your vantage point - folded on the bed - you could see his expression becoming downright hedonistic as his eyes rolled back while his ministrations turned voracious. Pressing his nose to your clit, Hoshina bobbed his head feverishly between your thighs, alternating between plunging his tongue fully into you and dragging the tip through your folds up to your sensitive bundle of nerves. Repeating his flurry of movements, over and over, until the taut feeling in your abdomen snapped - spurring another gush of your decadent arousal to flood his taste buds. 

With a whimpered moan your body sagged in his hold, leaving you panting as you threw one arm over your face in an attempt to avoid Hoshina’s triumphant look. Ever so gently, he laid you flat on the bed with your legs spread on either side of him before bending over you, bringing his lips to your jaw. First he littered chaste kisses along your jawline, over your cheek, to the corner of your mouth, and then he gingerly pulled your arm away from your face so you would meet his gaze. Cracking open one eye, you saw Hoshina’s satisfied face peering back at you, a cheshire grin tugging at his lips and leaving his sharp canines on full display. 

“Vice-Captain…” Mumbling shyly, your cheeks sporting a vibrant shade of red, to which Hoshina just tittered at you.

“We’re not finished, so don’t stop calling me ‘Soshiro’ just yet,” he chided you endearingly as he sat back to remove his coat, swiftly followed by his black compression shirt. 

As his garments fell to the floor they wafted notes of jasmine and spicy pink pepper into your vicinity as you drank in the Vice-Captain in all his glory. Everything about him was seamless - hardened planes of muscle that flexed under smooth skin when he moved to undo and remove the rest of his uniform. 

Once settled between your legs again, completely nude, Hoshina grabbed the backs of your thighs and laid them over his own while stroking and squeezing their satiny plushness. Curiosity got the better of you as you shamelessly sat up on your elbows and raked your eyes over all of him. You almost shot him a glare for snickering at your shocked expression, but you were too focused on the sheer length and girth of him - thick veins running from the base to the bulbous, mushroom tip. A subtle twitch of his length brought your gaze from the glistening tip back to his shit eating grin. 

“Not what you were imagining?” He inquired, arching his brow arrogantly as if to punctuate his question. 

Then, in one swift movement, he gripped the backs of your thighs roughly before dragging you closer until his cock was wedged between your folds - the underside of his tip pressed firmly to your clit. A gasping yelp fell from your lips while you stared up at him like a deer caught in the headlights. Hoshina had to stifle a laugh at how your hands had landed on either side of your head - palms up and splayed - accentuating your big moon eyes that gazed up at him in anticipation. 

“No it wasn’t,” your calm, hushed voice caught him off guard, brows raised at you in surprise. Then, even more shockingly, you slowly began grinding on him - spreading your arousal up and down his length as he gripped your thighs harder just to retain some control. Though, what you said next almost had him tossing all restraint out the window. Your eyes became half-lidded as your pace picked up marginally, flashing him a hot-sweet smile while you whispered up at him, “this is better than anything I could’ve imagined.”

For a moment Hoshina looked utterly stunned by your change in demeanor, and then he wordlessly canted his hips back, and then forth - matching your pace - muted groans mixed with satisfied sighs as they tumbled out of him. His tip dragged deliciously through your folds until it caught at your entrance, and then with a silent look shared between you, he pressed forward until his tip stretched through that ring of muscle. Strained breaths mingled in the space you shared as hints of spiced nuts, sugared almonds and oriental sandalwood permeated the air. 

Reaching up, you grasped onto his toned biceps as he started thrusting lightly - eyes falling shut as he sheathed himself bit by bit until he bottomed out completely with a long, drawn out groan. Cracking his eyes so they were only half-lidded, he moved to hook his arms under your knees, nestling even deeper into your gummy walls while pulling you impossibly close - eliciting a breathy whine from you.

“Place your hands flat on the wall,” he instructed in that same cadence you’ve heard him use on the training field, his violet irises flicked to the space above your head. A plotting smirk pulled at his mouth.

Swallowing thickly, you release his arms and reach above your head, doing as you're told by placing your palms flat to the cool, white wall - in this position, your arms were fully stretched and locked at the elbows. Peering back up at Hoshina for an explanation, but all you were met with was a ravenous look as he drew his hips back - making sure you felt every inch of his veined length dragging through your core. Then, he thrusted his hips forward with all the strength you thought he possessed.

Immediately he set a brutal pace which had you jolting up the bed. If Hoshina didn’t have you in such a tight grip along with instructing you to brace yourself against the wall, you feared you would’ve toppled off the bed completely. Plum colored eyes observed your expression as you bit down on your lip in an attempt to quiet your salacious sounds, but with each powerful thrust your lips parted to emit a pleasurable whine. Soon the room filled with your satisfied ah ah ah’s that were accompanied by the resounding plat plat plat of Hoshina’s pelvis repeatedly meeting yours.

It wasn’t long until your arousal was wetting your and his thighs as a creamy ring formed at the base of his cock. That taut feeling deep in your core returned tenfold as your velvety walls clenched around him sporadically. Other than a strained gasp and blown wide pupils, Hoshina’s expression remained unchanging as he studied your’s becoming steadily more and more fucked out. His eyes fell from your face to your plush breasts bouncing in sync with each of his thrusts, down to where the two of you joined, and then back up to your lips parted in a perfect ‘o’. 

“You’re getting close,” he remarked breathily with a lustful glint in his eye as he felt your warm, plush walls becoming puffy as your climax swiftly approached. Bringing your fucked out gaze to his, trying to focus, but all you could was whine pathetically as you clenched around him again. Somehow, Hoshina’s pace grew more intense as the strength of his thrust increased - almost sending you over the edge. Just before you lost it, he commanded in a calm, authoritative tone, “say my name when you cum.”

That’s all it took to send you teetering off the edge into that euphoric abyss that swallowed you whole. Clamping down around him, your gummy walls pulsing as your back arched into the waves of pleasure coursing through you. With one slight change in angle, his bulbous tip began hitting that spongy spot that made your vision go white and sent shivers through your limbs as a desperate cry was ripped from you. 

And then, keening your head back into the pillows, his name came tumbling out of you in a wanton moan, “Soshiro!” Then you threw him a pleading look just before you begged, “Cum for me Soshiro, please!”

Between your puffy walls trying to milk him for all he’s worth and those compelling words, Hoshina’s eyes fell shut while his hips stuttered until they halted flush against yours just as his climax crashed over him. Twitching in tandem with your pulsing cunt, his release coated your walls mixing with your own as it filled you completely. A long moment passed with nothing but the sounds of the two of you catching your breaths; until he finally cracked his violet eyes to peer down at your disheveled form before slipping out of you. Whining softly at the sudden emptiness, you watched him with rapt interest as to what he would do next.

“Thank you, this is exactly what I needed. I haven’t been able to sleep for a week,” he said followed by a satisfied sigh, like he just finished a good training session, while laying down next to you. 

Silently you observed him making himself comfortable, wondering if he was really planning to stay the night. But then he wrapped an arm around you, drawing you flush to his chest which elicited a surprised squeak from you. Beyond a smug smile, he didn’t mention your shock. Peering up at his relaxed expression - eyes shut, satisfied simper, both accentuated by his other arm lazily tucked behind his head - gradually you relaxed into him, laying your head on his chest.

“Well, maybe if you cut down on the coffee…” you murmured quietly, shooting him an admonishing look when he peeked at you out of the corner of his eye. And when he arched a defensive brow, you added in a chastising tone, “you get like six a day.”

“Yes, but I only drink three of them ever since you started making the other three decaf without telling me” he replied nonchalantly through a yawn, though an amused smirk turned the corner of his mouth. Settling back into the pillows, he tucked you tighter into his side.

“If you knew, then why would you keep getting all six??” You couldn’t hide the exasperation leaching from your question, followed by an incredulous giggle as you wrapped an arm around his torso as well.

“Because I like coming to see you,” he whispered sleepily, pressing his nose to the top of your head. Inhaling deeply, Hoshina breathed in the roasted coffee and toffee nut fragrance that clung to you, and would certainly permeate his dreams tonight. Blinking rapidly as his words sunk in, sending your mind spinning - did he really just say that?

“What…?” Mumbling in shock, but he didn't respond. Instead, all you heard was his faint snoring accompanied by warm breaths of air puffed into your hair. With a small, relenting sigh you tucked into his warm, comforting embrace. There, you sunk deeper into his pepper-jasmine and vanilla-sandalwood aroma until sweet slumber claimed you as well.

Master List (I have no rights to these characters, the works they come from, or the art/screenshots/manga panels used in this post. Screenshots taken from pinterest, so if you know the creator please lmk! Divider is from @sweetmelodygraphics)

[kingstarkingslay]

“ Make our barista laugh and get a free coffee “

except it’s Wolfstar where Sirius is the barista and Remus is the customer who tries to make him laugh.

Bonus: it could also be Jegulus with Regulus as the barista

[toomuchracket]

caffeine overload (barista matty x reader smut)

promptober. this is so soft!! i almost cried writing!! enjoy <3

you wake up to an aching body and an empty bed.

it's the latter that bugs you most, though - it's 10am on a sunday, matty's day off, you're in his bed, and he's nowhere to be found. wincing as you do, you reach towards his side of the bed, only to discover the sheets - while rumpled - are cold; he's been up for a while.

bastard. what's the point of having a boyfriend with nice arms if you can't wake up in them?

fuck it. you might as well get up and find him. plus, your throat is dry, the kind of soreness that can only be achieved by drinking copious amounts of vodka-based concoctions, the kind of soreness that can only be alleviated by drinking a pint of cold water in one go. with great effort, you pull yourself out of bed and matty's sweatshirt over your head, shuffling out of the bedroom at a snail's pace. when you reach the hallway, you speed up slightly as the smell of fresh coffee wafts its way to you from the kitchen, the promise of both caffeine and matty spurring you on.

stepping onto the tiled floor in bare feet makes you hiss, which in turn makes matty look up. he's at the breakfast bar, reading a book - one you gave to him in recommendation, actually - and he smiles softly as soon as he sees you. god, he's beautiful. “hi, baby,” his voice is even softer than his face. “y’alright?”

“no.”

“no?” he looks panicked, rushing to you and gently holding your face. “you're not feeling well?”

“no, i don't even have a headache,” you wrap your arms around his waist, smushing your face into him. “i'm not alright because you weren't in bed when i woke up,” tilting your head, you give him the sad eyes - slight overkill, maybe, but you secretly love playing into the girlfriend role like this. “wanted a cuddle.”

“oh, darling,” matty's face softens again, and he moves his arms around your shoulders to hug you properly. “m'sorry, sweet girl. i just figured you'd maybe want to sleep for a while, and i could go and make coffee for you waking up.”

you pull back slightly, brows raised in interest. “is there coffee for me?”

he kisses your nose. “coffee and a cookie in the oven.”

“you're a dream, healy.”

“i try. sit down, darling, i'll get you breakfast,” matty drops a kiss onto the top of your head as you oblige, perching yourself on a stool while he faffs about with the fancy coffee machine you think is both slightly pointless (his coffee shop is literally downstairs) and scary to use by yourself (why on earth are there so many buttons?). “so,” he slides you a big glass of water, which you gulp down eagerly. “how are you genuinely feeling this morning?”

“so, so tired,” as if to prove your point, you yawn. “but my head is fine, and i don't feel pukey. my limbs are aching, though. like, proper sore.”

“well, that's what happens when you dance for three straight hours, sweetheart.”

the smile in his voice is obvious. you glare at his (very nice-looking) back. “m'never going anywhere run by your friends ever again.”

“nah, ross said you and the girls were great fun. you're welcome back anytime, apparently.”

still, you grumble. “can't believe you didn't tell me it was his bar,” you sip your water. “or that he was so attractive. i mean, really, one friend group should not contain so many good-looking people. s'unfair.”

matty cackles. “i'm gonna tell the girls you said that.”

“no, they agreed. we had this discussion yesterday. they're all in love with ross, now.”

he winces. “i don't think any of them would be able to handle ross,” matty turns to face you. “even you might struggle, to be honest.”

your eyes widen. “oh, you mean, like…?”

“oh, yeah. he's a proper dom, that one,” matty winks. “not like either of us.”

interesting. “have the two of you ever-”

“fucked? nah.”

you roll your eyes. “i was gonna say shared someone, but alright.”

“haven't done that either,” the oven beeps, and matty carefully removes the delicious-smelling chocolate-chip treat, before smirking at you. “why? you interested?”

you shrug. “maybe. if everyone wants to. i don't mind.”

“i can ask him - careful with that, it's hot,” your boyfriend slides the cookie and a set of cutlery to you, which you excitedly thank him for before tucking in. “he thinks you're fit, so he might be up for it.”

“he does?”

“told me last night that he ‘understands why i've been spending all my time with you,’” matty smiles, pouring espresso and oat milk into a mug. “you know, when you phoned me at half 11 to come and pick you up because you missed me too much.”

“shut up,” you can feel your cheeks burning. “too many people were ordering espresso martinis. it made me miss you.”

he reaches across to caress your cheek. “oh, my sweet, clingy girl. you're so weird.”

“you literally make the cold brew that goes into them. it would be weird if i didn't think about you when someone got one,” you take the final bite of your cookie. “and don't you try to pretend you didn't absolutely love me calling you. could hear you smiling from all the way down the street.”

“yeah, i did love it. i love being your boyfriend, and getting to take care of you,” while you swoon, he places a latte in front of you, foam art designed in a heart shape. “speaking of, d'you want a shower? might help your post-dancing pains.”

“ooh, yeah,” you sip your coffee, sighing happily. “can i hop in now?”

“of course, darling,” matty smiles when you kiss his cheek; his brow furrows when you get up to leave the room, though. “you're taking the latte with you?”

“why wouldn't i?”

he shakes his head. “you really are weird, darling.”

“and you're into me regardless,” you wink, and he giggles. it's adorable. “i won't be long, babe.”

true to your word, you're out in fifteen minutes, body soothed by the combination of hot water and matty’s shower gel. once you're dry, clad in his jumper and boxers, you pad through to the living room and climb onto his lap on the sofa. “hi.”

“hi, baby,” matty kisses your head, reaching to mute the tv before wrapping his arms around you. “feeling better?”

“yeah. still a bit tired, but-”

“oh, i can help with that,” he lets go of you long enough to hand you a full, steaming mug of coffee from the little table beside you. “started making it when i heard the shower turn off.”

“you're so sweet, matthew,” you coo, taking a long drink of the coffee before kissing your boyfriend on the cheek. “making me coffee, putting the fire on, buying me cleanser and moisturiser to keep here - that was really thoughtful, by the way, angel. thank you.”

he giggles, hiding his face in your neck. “i just like making you happy.”

“you're really good at it,” once you've laid the coffee back on the table, your hands find their way onto matty's face. “and you're so pretty!”

“oh, shush,” he rolls his eyes, cheeks warming under your hands. “you're the pretty one, we both know this.”

“mmmm, no.”

“mmmm, yeah.”

“no, you're-”

“cookie, my darling, you're not winning this argument. trust me, babe,” matty leans back, eyes raking up and down your body in a not-particularly-PG-but-very-sexy manner. “especially not when you're wearing my clothes.”

“you like it when i do that?”

“fuck, yeah,” he grins, cheeky. “s'my favourite look of yours. well,” he corrects himself. “second favourite.”

“the first's when i'm naked, isn't it?”

“is it creepy if i say yes?”

“matty, you're my boyfriend,” you roll your eyes. “i want you to like it when i'm naked.”

he presses his forehead to yours. “i love it.”

“yeah?”

“yeah,” his lips meet your forehead, your nose, your lips - the kiss is quick, but as good as ever. “you're fucking gorgeous. like, sex thoughts aside… you just look so beautiful when you're not wearing anything. i mean, you're always beautiful, but,” he smiles against your lips. “i think you're really stunning when you're at your barest like that. dunno if it's a trust thing, or just to do with how deeply i feel for you anyway, but… yeah.”

jesus. you're not a believer in the concept of absolute perfection, but matty definitely comes pretty bloody close; you'd give him that accolade for the way he kisses you back alone. detaching your lips when you risk getting too lightheaded, you giggle softly into him, a sound he copies. “you're my favourite, you know,” you kiss him again, smiling against him when he moans into your mouth. “and if you wanted to see me naked right now… i'd be quite up for that.”

matty smiles. “thought you were tired, darling?”

“nuh-uh,” you shake your head. “the caffeine's done its job. maybe a little bit too well, actually,” another kiss. “i want you, matty.”

he groans, burrowing his head into your neck; you join in with the chorus when his lips meet the soft skin there. “how do you want it, cookie?”

“i want - oh, fuck,” you whimper, hand coming up to clutch your boyfriend's hair as he nips at your neck. “want it on the floor…”

“dirty girl.”

“... in front of the fire,” the words come out as a strangled groan, matty sucking marks onto your body sending heat flooding within it. “want you deep, and slow, and filling me up. yes,” you cut him off, noticing his mouth opening as if to talk. “i want you to cum inside me.”

“i thought you didn't like that?”

“no, i didn't like it with anyone else,” you bite your lip, well aware of what you're about to say. “but you… i think you should mark what's yours.”

“god,” matty's voice is shaky, more breath than sound. his forehead meets your shoulder, and you smile as you caress the back of his head while he inhales deeply. sweet boy.

the sweetness doesn't last long, though - he hooks his hands under your arse and lifts you, still biting at your neck as he carries you to the soft rug in front of the fire. you've been obsessed with matty's fireplace since the first time you saw it, fascinated by the crackling flames illuminating and warming up the room; they're very reminiscent of how matty lights you up, and manages to send heat coursing through your body. like now, for instance, as he kneels to carefully lay you down on the fabric and his thumbs find the waistband on your shorts on their way back round to the front of your body… yeah, you're turned on.

and he knows it, the little shit, grinning stupidly when you bite your lip. “alright, cookie?”

you pout. “matty…”

“yeah, darling?” he kisses your nose, and a fresh set of butterflies take off within you. “what d'you want?”

“please take my clothes off,” you roll your hips up into his, biting your lip when he groans softly. “and yours. wanna see you.”

matty coos, leaning back to pull his t-shirt over his head. the fabric is thrown onto the sofa, closely followed by your (well, his) sweatshirt, and he beams at the sight of your bare chest. “perfect girl.”

“pretty boy,” you rake your nails down matty's chest, just hard enough to make him moan, hooking them into the waistband of his sweatpants. “can i?”

“please, yeah.”

“mmmkay,” you slide the grey fabric down, beaming when matty moves to kick it off his legs and you see what's underneath - which is, to say, absolutely nothing. “matthew, you little slut.”

“says the woman begging me to get her naked,” he retorts, pulling your shorts off and pushing your legs back; his pupils dilate at the sight of your glistening core. “fuck, cookie, is this all for me?”

you nod enthusiastically. “all of it,” your voice is breathy with desperation, words turning to a wanton moan as you watch matty stroke himself while he looks at you. “take what's yours, please. put it in, baby, ple- oh, just like that.”

“oh my god,” matty slowly pushes into you, moving to rest on his elbows at either side of your head. his forehead rests against yours, chests pressed together and breathing slowly in tandem as he finally bottoms out; it's the most intimate the two of you have been with each other so far, and - in the best possible way, of course - you're feeling a little bit overwhelmed. matty being matty, lovely and attentive, he notices, shifting his weight onto one elbow so he can softly stroke your cheek. “you alright, my girl?”

you nod. “yeah, angel. just full.”

your heart, too.

“d'you need a minute like this, darling?”

“if that's okay,” you kiss his nose. “like having you close to me.”

matty beams, and it makes your heart feel funny. “so do i. we'll stay like this as long as you want.”

“thank you,” you smile, lightly scratching his scalp the way he likes. “can i have a kiss, please?”

he doesn't answer. instead, matty presses his lips to yours, tongue languid as it traces across your cupid's bow and licks into your mouth when you open it in a soft moan. it's just as passionate as ever, but slow, drawn-out, and just completely ruinous to you; your cunt tightens around him, desperate to be even closer to your boyfriend than you already are, probably as a result of his mouth kissing away any thoughts in your head that aren't him. your hips begin to roll, matty's follow suit, and - still kissing - soon enough, he's fucking you exactly how you wanted him to, slow and deep and so fucking good. 

you're not even sure you can call it fucking, actually, the sex you two are having right now; neither of you have said the important word to each other, yet, but there's really no other way to describe this activity as anything other than lovemaking. not that you've ever done that, or ever actually been in love with anyone, but the word seems like an accurate term for right now, when you feel like you'd die if matty was any further away from you than he currently is, and you’re desperate to make him happy, to make him make those gorgeous little moans that fall from his lips whenever you clench around him or roll your hips just so, to make him kiss you so hard it leaves you both breathless.

he pulls away from your lips slightly after one such kiss, just enough that he can look at you properly; when he does, his face cracks into a gorgeous smile. “hi.”

“hi,” you smile back, caressing his cheekbone. “having fun?”

“s'an understatement,” matty laughs, groaning as he fucks into you again. “only one thing that could make this better for me, actually.”

“s'that?”

he ducks his head down, licking a long stripe up your neck to your lips. “you letting me make you cum.”

fuck. “yes, please.”

another kiss, a smile against your lips. “so good for me. cum whenever you're ready, yeah?”

you smirk. “you don't want me to beg?”

matty shakes his head. “not today, cookie. want you to take what you deserve.”

“okay,” you kiss him, moaning into his open mouth when a calloused thumb finds your clit, circling with practised precision. “fuck, baby, you're so good,” the two layers of stimulation feel amazing, proven by you audibly getting wetter as matty keeps thrusting, slow and deep and sexy. “so fucking good.”

“love feeling you like this,” your boyfriend groans, burrowing his head into your neck. “could stay like this forever. and i would, if you wanted me to,” he kisses your neck, gentle, before moving to look at you again. those pretty eyes of his are hazy, his cheeks are flushed, and he's never looked more beautiful. “i'd do anything for you, darling.”

the overwhelming intimacy of the morning reaches breaking point; so do you, imminent orgasm the only thing preventing you from giving in and saying the word that's been dancing on the tip of your tongue whenever you've so much as thought about matty lately. instead, you cling to him, whispering against his lips. “m'so close.”

matty whines, hips and hand keeping up their movements, despite the fact you can feel him shaking above you. “c'mon, cookie,” his words are punctuated with kisses, desperate liplocks that you can't quite decide are meant to fuel him or tip you over the edge. both, probably. “let go for me, my darling. give in, let me give you what you deserve, perfect girl.”

that's all you need.

“fuck, matty,” you press your face into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, whimpering into his sweaty skin as pleasure careens through your trembling body. it's the strongest orgasm you think you've ever had, every little subsequent aftershock devastating to you; when one of them coincides with matty's orgasm, it actually sets you off fully again, moaning in harmony with him as he pulses heat deep inside you. “oh my god.”

“jesus,” matty groans into your hair, fucking shallower and shallower into you as he stops cumming. once he's done, he practically falls onto you, resting his head on your heaving chest - there's silence for a minute, aside from heavy breathing and the crackling of the fire, and then he lifts his head up to peek at you. “how you feeling, cookie?”

you nod, trying to find the words. “like i just had the best sex i've ever had.”

your boyfriend laughs, leaning up to kiss you sweetly. “i'm feeling the same.”

“really?”

“yeah,” he brushes a bit of hair from your face. “that was really special, baby. meant a lot to me.”

“me too,” you reach up to touch his face, mirroring his action with you. “never felt like this before, y'know. so safe, so cared for,” you smile bashfully. “or so beautiful, actually.”

“oh, darling,” matty kisses your forehead. “m'glad i can make you feel so good. all i wanna do, to be honest.”

“sweet boy,” you smile. “can we stay like this for a while?

he smiles back, and you have to bite your lip from blurting out how you actually feel about him. “of course.”

[yukibunnii]

the pretty boy at the café. ₊˚⊹ ♡₊˚

— your favorite barista !

(barista!xiao & regular customer!reader)

✧.* barista!xiao who was the barista you always saw each time you visited your favorite café, which you were a known regular in.

✧.* barista!xiao who you thought was extremely attractive from the first moment you saw him. his slender figure, slender hands when he worked, attractive yet stoic face, the piercings on his ears, and the way his uniform complemented his features so well . . you fell in love almost immediately.

✧.* barista!xiao who developed from 'a tiny crush' to a huge one where you started thinking about him every day.

✧.* barista!xiao who the more you'd visit, the more he'd start to notice you.

✧.* barista!xiao who was your favorite barista, and you, his favorite customer.

✧.* barista!xiao who eventually memorized the drink you'd always order from how often you'd come here . . memorizing what time you usually come by and then have the drink ready by the time you arrive. you were surprised (and flustered) when he himself handed you your drink before you even got to order.

✧.* barista!xiao whose co-workers started teasing him due to the slight difference in his attitude whenever you were in the café. now he was the one who was starting to develop a tiny crush on you.

✧.* barista!xiao who finds himself staring at you as you read a book in your table while he's making drinks or wiping down the counter. his co-workers usually notice this and nudge his side with a teasing smirk.

✧.* barista!xiao who's less nonchalant and cold towards you, seemingly having all his attention on you whenever you speak to him. you were really sweet . . and nice, and so perfect to him in his eyes.

✧.* barista!xiao who seems more agitated whenever you aren't visiting the café. he'd always seem to be much more gloomy when you aren't there.

✧.* barista!xiao who noticed you staring at his arms and hands one time, which caused the slightest smirk to appear on his face.

✧.* barista!xiao who you scolded one time, asking him to come closer with a worried look on your face as he seemed a bit tired. you took a closer look at his face and started scolding him, saying that he should rest more and that he shouldn't overwork himself. he actually listened to you, which was a rare thing for him to do with anyone else.

✧.* barista!xiao who puts little cat doodles (or doodles, in general) next to your name on the cups whenever you order, so that he could see that tiny smile of yours every time.

✧.* barista!xiao who'd keep each and every gift you'd give to him. he really appreciates you, he just won't show it. there's no way he'd admit that . . right?

✧.* barista!xiao who gifted a cute plush keychain to you, looking away with his cheeks tinted a light shade of pink. that became the first time he received a hug from you, and the moment he found out how good you actually smelled.

✧.* barista!xiao who can't hide his blush whenever he sees that exact keychain dangling on your bag when you enter the café. he remembers your hug each time he looks at it.

✧.* barista!xiao whose number you eventually found on a piece of paper taped to your drink's cup, with an 'add me?' written in neat handwriting. you found that he also added his instagram username at the bottom of the paper.

AHHDHSKDSK WHEN HE'S COLD TO OTHERS BUT NOT TO YOUUU

anyways,, I'm on a roll now omg😭I've been posting so muchhh I just really hope you guys enjoy them ૮₍˶ ╥ ‸ ╥ ⑅₎ა

thankyu for taking the time to read my works !!

[ofdreamsnwishes]

“You are staring.” Barista!Jaemin whispered in your ear, making you jump and spill the hot coffee on yourself. Swearing under your breath you quickly move to the sink, running some cold water on your hand to, hopefully, avoid getting a serious burn.

The boy snickers behind you, trying to apologize and offering to help, but you know it’s not really genuine, Jaemin is just trying to mess with you, as if annoying the hell out of you was the best part of his day.

“I understand you are the owner’s son and you’re not really obliged to work, but at least try to uphold your parent’s café reputation.” You whisper-yells at him, glaring into his soul, hoping that for once, looks could actually kill.

“Oh I am. I’m making sure that our employees are not slacking off, you know, staring at our costumers with heart eyes…” There’s a mischievous glint in his eyes. Shit, he knows.

“I wasn’t staring AT the costumers, my gaze just happened to be there.” You defend yourself, too prideful to admit that you were, in fact, staring.

You were trying to convince yourself too, because really, you shouldn’t. Not at Mark of all people. Not at the guy that was currently there waiting for your pretty coworker to arrive.

“Bullshit.’ He deadpans. It was infuriating how he always seemed to look past your excuses. ‘Maybe we should ask Hina and see what she thin-”

A hand flies over Jaemin’s mouth, your panicked eyes meeting his.

“Do. Not.’ A warning. Too bad Jaemin loved the bickering so, of course, he had to poke his tongue out, slightly licking your hand. Pulling away, you shoot him disgusted look. ‘You!”

An awkward cough startled you two out of your argument, Mark standing near the cashier, shy smile and a gentle voice to accompany.

“Sorry to interrupt… But, could you give this to Hina when she comes by? Something came up and I need to leave.” He has a small paper bag on his hands, what you could assume was some kind of jewelry based on the logo. Your heart drops. Right, Hina.

Before you can answer though, Jaemin is quick to talk, swiveling past you and putting on his best customer service smile.

“I’m sorry, we are not allowed to accept gifts from customers.’ It’s a lie. ‘The owners are very strict about it.” Another lie, Jaemin’s parents were sweethearts.

The older boy’s eyes widen, a blush dusting the tips of his ears. “Oh…! Sorry, I didn’t know about that…” He scratched the back of his head, excusing himself and leaving shortly after, a dejected look on his eyes.

It’s silent after that, Jaemin taking the order of the next customer in line and you busy yourself with tidying up the counter.

“What do you even see on him?” The boy beside you asks, once he took all of the costumers orders, putting a hand on your shoulder and moving you aside so he could help with the beverages.

“For starters he is the opposite of you.” You grumble and he lets out a dramatic gasp.

“So you’re telling me I’m not your type?”

You pause, looking at him, syrup bottle midway in the air. Honestly, what went on inside of his head sometimes? You? Liking him? That’s the first thing be asks?

“No?” You give him a side eye.

“Damn… Too bad, you’re exactly my type.”

“…”

“…”

“What?”

Jaemin winked at you, finishing up the beverage he was doing and taking the one you were doing, calling the names on the cups. He acted as if he didn’t just drop this bomb on you.

“Jaemin, what-”

“The customers are waiting, come on, finish their orders first.” He singsongs, not looking in your direction, hands busy cutting a cake slice.

Hesitantly, you turn away, almost dazed as you work on the next order in line. Maybe if you looked a bit closer you might’ve seen the red dusting his cheeks, the back of his neck and tip of his ears. He slipped up.

[hitmewithsomebooks]

@jegulus-microfic Feb 29 - address

306 words

~

"Alright, and your phone number?" The barista asked, pen in hand hovering over a piece of paper as he waited expectantly. Regulus frowned.

"Why do you need my phone number?" He asked, cocking his head.

"To call you when your order's ready." The man replied, like it was obvious, but he was looking down at the paper, not Regulus.

"I'm not going anywhere. I can just wait over there and you call my name... like usual?" Regulus said slowly, confused. Was this guy new? Regulus hadn't seen him before. He definitely would've noticed...

Suddenly, the barista —James, said his name tag— looked up, a mischievous grin on his face.

"Okay, maybe, I just wanted your phone number." He stated, a light blush on his cheeks. It was unfairly both adorable and hot.

"Give me those." Regulus instructed him, gesturing to the pen and paper. James looked up, surprised, before handing them over. Regulus could feel the man’s eyes watching him with interest as he wrote in an elegant scrawl, before capping the pen and handing the slip to James.

"My number," he explained, as the confused man scanned the paper, "And my address." James looked up at that, eyes wide and lips parted.

"Pick me up at 8." Regulus finished with a wink, and watched with glee as James's pretty mouth stretched into a grin.

"Will do."

"Now, do I get my latte, or are you just going to smile at me?" Regulus asked with a smirk, and James seemed to snap out of his daze, blushing again. Instead of going to sit down to wait for his coffee like usual, Regulus simply moved over to allow other customers through and watched James make his drink.

It was a little too sweet and James spilled a couple things, but Regulus didn't mind. James had been a bit distracted, after all.

[ghost-proofbaby]

MORDOR (a barista!eddie x barista!reader au)

summary: you take a chance, and decide to call mordor.

warnings: fem!reader (use of she/her pronouns), mentions of life struggles (reader's turn to go through it), references to previous addition in this series so might be a little harder than normal to read as stand alone! this is really just me projecting on my need for eddie munson to comfort me

wc: 4.8k+

the full menu

You’re late. So, so fucking late. 

It panics Eddie. He sat in his car for that extra hour just waiting for your ridiculously bright yellow Jeep to pull in beside him, and when you still hadn’t by the time Nicole arrived, his chest twisted. When Nicole gets out of her car, and you’re still not there, his stomach churns.

Where are you? Are you okay? 

You hadn’t texted Nicole. You don’t call the store as the two of them flit about and try to manage opening without you. And when the time arrives to unlock the doors for the customers, Nicole finally excused herself to try and call you herself. 

Eddie scorns himself for not having your number. How stupid is it that you two have made a pact to be friends, and yet here he is weeks later, still not having your number.

“Any luck?” he asks, trying to level his tone when Nicole returns and he’s turning on the ovens.

“Nope,” her brows furrowed as she quickly scoots behind him, heading towards the front register, “It went straight to voicemail. Which, I mean… she’s never been late. Not like this.” 

“Should we be worried?” 

It’s a stupid question. He’s already worried. He’s frazzled enough to say fuck it, toss down his apron, and send out a search party for you rather than worrying about the store.

“Maybe,” Nicole shrugs, as if this doesn’t concern her as much as it does Eddie. As if there’s not sirens going off in her head as well. As if your sudden lack of punctuality is something to just shrug off.

As if your absence doesn’t rattle her the way it rattles Eddie. 

An hour passes by. Eddie gets more restless. Constantly looking to the store’s front door, incessantly checking outside the drive thru window for any sign of you or that damn Jeep. Every time the phone rings, Eddie has to curl his hands into fists to let Nicole answer rather than him. Each time, when he looks at her, the subtle shake of her head tells him it’s not you. His tongue nearly bleeds from how he chews on it with his molars to stop from asking her if she had tried to reach you again. He knows she has, notices how she spends extra time in the back, no doubt sending texts and useless calls alike your way.

If it were any other coworker, both Eddie and Nicole would be fuming. Concern would be replaced with irritation

He’s actually reaching to untie his apron and informing her that he’ll start trying to reach you instead when you finally come bursting into the store, a full two hours late to your shift. 

“Fuck,” you whisper-exclaim as you power walk through the lobby, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!” 

“You’re here!” he doesn’t bother keeping down his volume at the sight of you, flooded with immediate relief.

You’re okay. 

“I’m so sorry,” the apologies immediately begin to pour from your lips as you nearly trip rounding the corner into the back room, Eddie hot on your trail, “I’m so, so sorry! Shit, I- I just slept through my alarm, and had a late night, and-“ 

You’re digging your apron out of your bag when he finally reaches out to softly grab your arm, squeezing gently in an offer of comfort as you finally pause. 

“It’s fine,” he promises, “Everyone is late every once and a while.” 

Nicole was in the bathroom, but he’s sure that she’d say the same thing. The entire morning, both her and Eddie had been more worried than anything. Not mad, not irritated, but worried. 

And yet, you’re still on the verge of tears as you look up at Eddie, “It’s not fine. You had to open the store all on your own, and I know that’s stressful, and I saw all the missed calls but my phone was on silent. I mean, my shift’s already half over at this point. And I just-“ 

You cut off your rambling with a shaky breath. It breaks his heart to see you so upset, so guilt-ridden over something that happens to the best of you all. 

“It’s okay,” he stresses once more, another squeeze on your arm, “You had a late night? Is everything okay?” 

You open your mouth to answer him, the no already forming on your lips, when Nicole returns from the bathroom.

“Oh my gosh, there you are!” she exclaims.

And just like that, Eddie’s chance to be there for you as you were for him has vanished into thin air.

—

Your shift may have lasted several hours less than it was meant to, but you’re convinced it’s the absolute worst hours of your life. Which is saying a lot given how your life has gone to shit the last two days. 

You were already falling behind on classes, and your bank account was in the negative due to tuition payments. Your mother was calling every day to spend hours on the phone under the guise of catching you up at what you were missing at home, when in all reality it was just her complaining without taking a breath or allowing you to say a single word. You had to take your cat to the emergency vet when he wasn’t eating, only to find out he probably just didn’t like his current food anymore after a series of very expensive tests. Thing after thing, punch after punch, was being thrown your way. It was all just a bit much. 

And then you were late to work. Slept in after forgetting to set an alarm after a late night of staying up and listening to a friend rant over the phone. Burnt your hand not once but twice on the ovens. Spilt an entire cup of hot coffee on yourself. 

Life was out to get you. 

And the only good thing about today was Eddie. 

When the clock finally signals for the two of you to step off the floor, you’re sighing out in relief. You have no idea what the next issue will be waiting for you off the clock, but you’ve accepted that the day couldn’t get worse. And yet, as you go to grab your bag, wrapping your apron by muscle memory as you watch him, your stomach churns at the thought of today’s time being cut so short today. You just like being around him. You like making inside jokes, sharing quick glances, making one another laugh until your stomachs ache over stupid things in the midst of chaos. He’s a guiding light, something to look forward to, a wonderful break from reality that you just… you just cherish.

As you’re tearing up suddenly at the realization along with the heavy weight of your week, you recall that conversation last week. The word you two had assigned for when you needed a break.

Technically, it was probably a joke. Or to be used to ditch work. He probably hadn’t meant it.

But you have to try.

“Hey, uh, Eddie?” you ask nervously, fiddling with the straps of your bag as he’s patting his pockets for all his items.

“Yeah?” he doesn’t look up yet, doesn’t see the forlorn look across your face.

Just say it. If he doesn’t get it – no harm, no foul. If he gets it, and rejects the motion – oh well. The worst he can say is no. 

You have to swallow hard, take a sharp breath, before you can get the single word out. “Mordor.” 

He freezes mid-pat, hands hovering over his front pockets as he slowly looks up. 

“What did you say?”

“Mordor,” you repeat yourself, with a little more confidence to your tone this time. The worst he can say is no. 

For a second, you become convinced he’s forgotten all about that conversation in the parking lot. You really don’t blame him; half the time, you guys discuss anything and everything with minimal importance. Those early and surreal mornings are always more about spending time with one another, with a friend, than it is about actually processing the things said.

But then, two things happen. Firstly, the wrinkles between his brows smooth out. A second passes. And then – they return. 

Sloping ridges and mountains in that small space, each and every bit of them etched with worry. For you. The corners of his mouth deeply downturn and all the white noise of the front of house fades away the longer he looks at you with such care. 

“Mordor?” he echoes, “Like, as in… as in our code word?” 

You feel as if the moment you speak up, all that strength you had mustered throughout the shift will shatter. You’re tired and you’re beaten, you’re desperate and you’re hoping. You don’t even care if he tells you he doesn’t have time to properly sit and unwind with you right now – you’d settle for just a hug. The same arms that bump against yours and that sometimes stretch along your space to grab things from around you, the same arms you’ve seen strain as he insists on carrying heavy kegs for you, the same arms you just want to wrap around you, if even for a second, and squeeze. 

Who knows? Maybe, if he squeezes tight enough, he can put all the broken shards of the week back into place. It’s not his job to fix it, but you’re convinced for a moment, he’s the key to everything just feeling okay for nothing more than a mere second. 

You nod. If you answer him with words, you’re going to cry. The tears are already eagerly burning your corneas. 

He says your name softly, gentle enough that you have to pinch your eyes shut and take a shaky breath to avoid any spillage of your emotions. 

“Are you okay?” 

“No,” you try to make it a laugh, as if this is a joke, “I, uh- not really?” 

“Is it because you were late today?”

Your voice cracks and your eyes squeeze shut tighter for a second as you answer with a weak, “Kind of.” 

You let your eyes snap open again, try and seek out some everpresent warmth in his honey brown ones as your vision blurs a bit with shameful tears. 

You’ve never realized just how many shades resided in those irises, all warm and cool browns alike swirling. They almost match the espresso, you come to realize. And it’s funny, to think about the way all your other coworkers whisper just as scary and grumpy he is the moment he’s out of earshot. It’s funny how customers seem to crumple timidly beneath his disassociating gaze when he finds himself lost in thought on bar or warming. Every single other person who has stepped foot in this store seems to have one impression of Eddie, and it’s not even a proper shadow of the man before you. 

All soft edges. All care and all warmth. He’s not scary, he’s not grumpy; he’s careful and considerate, a little shy at times, a little hesitant at others. And you can only imagine why he’s that way, when you can see someone entirely different reflected in those goddamn honeyed eyes in this moment. 

He takes a step forward. Opens his mouth to speak. Goes as far to even begin to reach out a hand. And then he’s interrupted. 

“Thank you for your patience,” Nicole chirps into her headset as she comes into the back room, turning a corner with determination and snatching a sleeve of cups off the shelves as she continues to speak over the drive thru channel with ease, “Can we get you started with anything to eat today?” 

His mouth closes and his hand drops as you both glance down at the floor, completely silent as you wait for her to finally retreat back out onto the floor without a second glance at the two of you. 

The tears still burn and blur your vision. 

“Okay,” Eddie says the moment the two of you are alone in the back once more, “Okay. Mordor it is. Come with me, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. It rolls off his tongue and it wraps around you before he reaches out and grabs at your hand, only connecting palms and avoiding intertwining fingers before he’s tugging you out the back door. 

Not even through the front. As if he wants to save you the embarrassment of a walk of shame with teary eyes and defeated shoulders.

“We can’t-” you start to protest, but he’s already wrangled the key that is left in the back door – impressively quickly, as even you struggle with that fickle lock at times – before he shoves the door open wordlessly and yanks you out with him wordlessly. 

The door doesn’t even slam shut. It feels like a dramatic moment where it should, but it only closes back with a whisper and soft whoosh of air. 

“They have to do a trash run anyways,” he reassures you when you look back at the unlocked door with worry, referring to the overflowing trash that would soon be taken out to the dumpster in the distance, “It’s fine.” 

The soil crunches beneath both of your sneakers as he makes a beeline to his van. No questions are asked, just as you two had joked about. 

The sun is still favoring the Eastern sky despite growing warmer in the late morning. Eddie’s van is stuffy when he initially unlocks it for both of you to jump into the front, him being sure to open the passenger door for you and only shutting it closed once you’ve securely settled into that seat you’ve spent countless early hours in. 

He starts up the vehicle once he’s in his driver’s seat, but makes no move to drive off as he stares at you. 

“What?” you whisper, voice still strained as you toss your bag down by your feet. 

All he says in return, still gentle and still warm, still glowing brighter than the man everyone seems to think he is, is a reminder of, “Seatbelt.” 

You obey that half-spoken command. You don’t ask where you two are going once he shifts into drive the moment the click sounds in the small space.

—

Eddie drives for a while. He gets onto the freeway in the opposite direction of your way home, and you probably should be worried, but you aren’t. You have no mental capacity for consideration of how you’ll get back to your car, whether your coworkers will worry about it remaining in the parking lot, or whether Eddie even knows where he’s going. Hell, even his slightly erratic driving doesn’t affect you. 

You just stare at the trees as they pass by in a blur. Your mind numbs, smells of a rainstorm in the distance slips into the cabin of the vehicle through the cracks in the back windows, and you just let go. 

If your mother knew what you had done today, you would have absolutely been reamed a new one. 

Eddie slows at an unfamiliar exit, just after the two of you pass a small green sign that reads NOW ENTERING HAWKINS CITY LIMITS. 

“Hawkins?” you murmur your first noise of the entire drive. 

“You ever been?” Eddie asks as if you hadn’t been catatonic the entire way here. 

You prop an elbow up on the door, fist digging into the side of your face as you lean and take in the scenery now passing by a bit slower, “Can’t say I have.” 

“Well, then,” he keeps talking, and it’s sort of comforting after the long silence, “Consider yourself lucky.” 

That gets a snort out of you. One that has his head turning quickly to look at you as he slows at the first redlight after the freeway, a grin twitching on his lips softly as he takes in the sight of you. 

He must think you can’t see him staring, because he continues to do it, until the light has changed green and he’s made no move to press on his gas.

“It’s green.”

“Huh?”

You look over at him, his rosy cheeks and diverted eyes at being caught, and repeat yourself with more emphasis, “The light’s green, idiot.” 

“Oh, shit!” 

Another snort, another rapid (albeit shorter) glance on his part. 

He’s got a nice smile. Even if he might totally be a secret serial killer who was just jumping at the opportunity to murk his unsuspecting and vulnerable coworker in the middle of the woods. He could get away with it with a smile like that. 

It’s only once he’s turned onto a dirt road that leads out into the woods that you really care to finally ask one of the first questions you probably should have asked the moment you got in his van – “Uh, Eddie? Where… Where are you taking me?” 

“Trust me,” he insists, both hands gripping his wheel with care as he navigates the car into thicker foliage, “I promise I’m not going to, like, murder you.” 

“Sounds like something someone who is going to murder me would say,” you put in a little extra effort, offering him the joke and more than a snort this time. 

You don’t miss the swell of pride that lifts him to sit up just a tad bit straighter in his seat. As if your joking, as if your laughing, was something he was proud to elicit from you. 

“Guess you’ll just have to wait and find out, then.” 

He drives pretty deeply into the woods, until the road turns rougher and the treeline is thick enough you can’t catch clearsight of the main road anymore. You really should be worried, but all you do instead of mustering up any anxiety is roll down the window. It makes him glance at you, but you don’t pay that look any mind. 

The smell of rain is even stronger, heavy as it mingles with the scent of pine and dirt. It somehow dances between something familiar and something new, a distant memory that unlocks and soothes some of that tightness that had been residing in your chest for a week now. It doesn’t smother, but it does gather up in your nose, tickling in the slightest. You swear, if you were to focus hard enough, you’d pick up on the comforting smell of a burning campfire somewhere. It just seemed like the kind of appropriate scent to add to the essence of it all. The strings of light that break through leaves in golden hues, the cloud spitting out of his back tires as he clearly goes just above the recommended speed for this old road, the pleasant chirp of a bird that whistles right past – the essence of pure comfort to someone like you. 

It kind of makes you wish you lived in Hawkins, just as you assumed Eddie did. 

He finally slows the van into a clearing, never once scolding you for rolling the window down. He leaves you as you twist your body in what must be an uncomfortable fashion to rest your chin on the top of the door, cheeks and nose just barely peeking out of the car. Every slap of the breeze on your face feels as though you’re releasing another bit of worry to the wind, your chest continuing to grow lighter and lighter. 

“Alright, Sunshine,” he clears his throat, throwing the van into park. The clearing is very obviously a small campsite – you can make out a fire pit just a few paces away and the perfect space cleared of rocks, “You call the shots. What are we gonna do?”

“What?”

Eddie leans over the center console, getting closer to you as thunder rolls in the distance, “What do you want to do? You called Mordor, so whatever is going to help you, we’ll do.”

You want to tell him that just doing as he has, not saying no and not asking questions as he drove the two of you out into the middle of nowhere, helped. The fact that he hadn’t hesitated when he’d processed that you’d said Mordor was already doing wonders for the storm that had brewed within your chest. You’d managed to snag extra time with the boy who had a way about making everything alright, and that in itself was able to erase some of your week from Hell.

But he’s looking at you, awaiting a real answer, so you say the first thing you can think of, “Do you have your copy of The Hobbit on you, by chance?” 

“Oh, say less, sweetheart,” Quickly, Eddie fumbles with his seatbelt and unbuckles himself, swinging open his door and clambering out onto the soft ground waiting below. He waits for a moment, hands on his hips as he looks at you expectantly, “Well? C’mon. I promise you the back seat is far more comfortable.” 

“Does that line usually work for you?” 

“I don’t mean it like that.” 

“Every fuckboy means it like that, Eds.” 

You don’t know it, but his heart swells a little bit at the nickname. 

“Good thing I’m not a fuck boy then,” he leans back into the van a little, smiling wildly, “Now come and join me in the back of my van in a totally platonic, definitely not suggestive way, Sunshine.” 

He doesn’t have to ask twice; you’re climbing out to follow him to the back of the van, not even flinching as you both slam your doors shut in sync and you giggle the entire way. It’s just his effect. Everything is lighter with him around, and you’re starting to believe he should be the one called Sunshine instead of you. 

“M’lady,” he bows dramatically, swinging open the heavy doors for you. 

The climb in is a bit awkward, but you don’t even think about it as you take in the nest of an arrangement Eddie has set up in the back of his van. There’s an old comforter spread out across the entire floor of it, with several smaller blankets bunched at random with a few pillows. 

“Are you sure you’re not a fuckboy?” you question as you’re careful to not touch the blankets with the sole of your shoes, twisting and beginning to unlace the sneakers that had seen better days. There’s stains of various sauces and syrups from work, and surely milk layering the bottom of them. You’re positive if you investigated close enough, you’d even find coffee grounds lodged between the ridges of the textured sole. 

“Positive,” Eddie follows you in, reaching and shutting the doors carefully behind him. He’s less meticulous about his own boots, hardly undoing the knots and kicking them off into the same corner you’d placed your shoes, “I solemnly swear you are the first to see these freshly cleaned blankets.” 

“What about before you cleaned them?” 

“Sweetheart,” he throws himself down on one of the worn pillows, laying right beside where you have your knees drawn up to your knees. He’s flat on his back, hair flaring out in a halo around his head as he looks up at you with big, brown eyes, “You’re killing me here.” 

You can’t help it. The two of you are probably not nearly close enough for what you impulsively do, but you’ve had a hard week, and his hair looks damn soft. 

Your fingers are reaching out to trace over some of the wild and thrown out strands of curls before you can overthink it. Curling caramel and honey softness, you try to not let your breath catch as your pull up on the strand and let it run between your knuckles rather than just fingertips. 

“Yeah?” you smile gently, watching him melt as you twirl the end of the curl you’d been playing with around the length of your finger, “Any specific requests for your funeral?” 

He plays along, trying to not get too lost up in the barely-there feeling of you playing with his hair, “Your attendance, obviously. And probably some good music. Preferably Metallica – again, obviously.”

“Oh, obviously.” 

“Actually, d’you think you can get Kirk Hammett himself to attend? That’d be the best outcome. My only request, actually.”

“You’d rather Kirk Hammett attend your funeral than me?”

“I’ve got priorities here, Sunshine.” 

Your fingers have traveled up to his scalp now, scratching gently as you both are consumed in withheld laughter and brilliantly shy smiles, letting go of heavy weeks and succumbing to all of the sunlight crammed into the back of Eddie’s van. 

“Alright,” your fingers pause their scratches, “I believe you were meant to read me a bedtime story, Munson.” 

“Bedtime story? It’s not even afternoon yet,” Eddie scoffs, throwing a hand up as he digs beneath one of the small, fluffy blankets in the corner. When his hand comes back into view, it clutches that same copy of The Hobbit you’ve seen on the back desk at work on multiple occasions, “Alright, well, make yourself comfortable.” 

Eddie shifts to sit up, your hand falling from his scalp as he piles a few of the pillows from beside him to prop him up as you mentally debate your options. 

You could just lay down beside him. Not touching, just listening. The arrangement was comfortable enough and you have no doubt that it would still be exactly as you needed after all the stress. 

Or you could be daring. You could do more than listen; you could lay your head in his lap, or maybe rest your tired temple against his shoulder. Your could press up against him tightly under the excuse that the space back here was limited and you could selfishly indulge in all that he was willing to offer for this afternoon. More than brushing touches, more than playful glances. 

You could feel the skin of his arm against your own bare shoulder and for a moment, you could just pretend. 

Don’t overthink it. Don’t overthink this. 

You opt for the lap. It’s more comfortable. Less intimate, you convince yourself. 

When your cheek presses into the rough denim stretching over his thigh, you can feel him tense up momentarily. Everything seemingly stops for just a second – even his breathing. But by the time you notice, it’s already resumed. You start to worry you’ve overstepped boundaries, gone too far for two coworkers playing pretend as ‘friends’. 

This definitely isn’t what he meant. First you played with his hair, now you’re laying your head on his lap. You need to learn personal space, personal boundari-

All thoughts evaporate as Eddie suddenly tugs one of the blankets over you, letting it drape comfortably over your shoulder. 

“Shall we begin?” 

Eddie’s voice was made to narrate Tolkien. It becomes apparent between the way he enunciates each word to paint a beautiful fantasy world, his fluctuation changing for each character without missing a beat. His voice takes on a slightly deeper timber than his normal speaking voice as you listen to the storm that had been teasing the entire drive finally break. Hard winds knock against the sides of the van occasionally, the patter of rain echoing off the metal roof of the van. Thunder becomes more frequent, and you couldn’t be sure, but there must be lightning somewhere above the trees to match it. But it doesn’t reach the two of you, the random bursts of light easily mistaken for swaying shadows through the windshield. 

Here in this van, with just you and Eddie and the adventures of Bilbo Baggins, it feels as if nothing bad can touch either of you. Not long weeks, not irate customers, not pessimistic friends or family – nothing. A certain bubble of safety has been created here, and you revel in it. Preen in the certainty of a few hours rest as Eddie’s fingers begin to tangle in your hair and return the favor of playing with your own strands. A simple pattern; he starts at the scalp, runs the fingers all the way through until they trail down the slope of your neck and curve of your shoulder. On occasion, they even slip to caress the top of your spine through the blanket.

Somewhere between the warmth of the soft blanket enveloping you in the scent of clean laundry and the soothing repetitive motions, you find yourself slipping away into sleep. Well-deserved, very much needed sleep that welcomes you with open arms. It’s not quite the hug you had craved from Eddie back at the store, but it’s a hug all the same, and it does hold you close just tight enough to make you believe the afternoon is capable of pressing all your broken pieces back together. If not forever, then just for now. The comfort of it all only has you nuzzling your cheek deeper into the muscle of his thigh.

The lap, it turns out, was the right choice.

Little did you know how grateful Eddie was for your choice of position. Better for your head to rest on his lap than for your ear to be pressed to his chest and hearing the current thunder of his heart that challenges the storm beginning outside the van, beating far harder for you than a friend’s would.

eddie's taglist: @capricornrisingsstuff @thisisktrying @hideoutside @vol2eddie @corrcdedcoffin @ches-86 @alovesongtheywrote @its-not-rain @feralchaospixie @cheesypuffkins87 @thebook-hobbit @babez-a-licious @eddies-acousticguitar @d64d-n0t-sl66p1ng @aysheashea @kellsck @cosmorant @billyhvrgrove-main @micheledawn1975

ghost's taglist: @emmaisgonnacry @figmentofquinn @bebe07011 @barbedwirebats @ayooooo0 @neverlearnedcivility @munson-enthusiast @digwhatudug @wow-cam @daddysmodifiedprincess2 @cancankiki @gothmingguk @nix-rose @thesesuggestedblognamesbegreat @chevelle724 @madaboutjoe @take-everything-you-can @josephquinnsfreckles @thebanisheddreamer @water-loos @dailyobsession @whenshelanded @happy-and-alone @alwayslindie @royale1803 @onegirlmanytales @whyamiheresomeonehelp @mrsjellymunson

join my taglist!

[peoplemakemesick]

Imagine Tommy not telling Buck his coffee order and being all flirty "guess you'll have to get to know me better and figure it out"

But then Buck figures it out surprisingly fast and Tommy is like "what?? You weren't even remotely close up until now??"

Then Buck proceeds to tell Tommy all excited how after HOURS of research and a very thorough spreadsheet (with apparently all the flavors, beans, syrups, types and beyond what you could even imagine and all the combinations with their taste characteristics) he developed a strategy to figure out the different components (like earthy tones etc whatever that means?).

They apparently also need to go to the coffee shop soon because the baristas there will freak out when they learn that Buck finally got it right.

When Buck finishes his story, Tommy just keeps staring at him with so much adoration in his eyes and not uttering a single word... Did Tommy think it was weird?

Meanwhile Tommy's mind is screaming "I love you" over and over but it's WAY too early to tell Evan that...

[sleep-drunk-kitten]

"𝐅𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫" 𝐢𝐬 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐟 "𝐍𝐨𝐰"𝐬

pairing: Barista! Kang Yeosang x fem!reader

genre: sickly sweet fluff, soft angst with a happy ending, coffee shop au?

content warnings: none

summary: After losing the one person who you believed would be your forever, finding love again seems nearly impossible... but the sweet barista who hands you your morning coffee might just changce your mind...

notes: Hey ya'll! I'm finally back and clawing my way out of that writing slump~ This fic was purely self indulgent and the past/present tense is a little all over the place, but oh well, I hope you guys enjoy it anyway!

Please support your authors, likes are sweet and all but it's reblogs, comments, and asks that give us the will and confidence to keep writing and sharing our work <3

Everything below the cut is NOT proofread

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

“Forever” 

In hindsight, it was a fickle promise. 

Though born into existence to encompass eternity, the word had lost its meaning somewhere along the line. 

“Oh it’s been forever! How are you?”

“Traffic was so bad, it took forever to get here”

“Oh that? It happened forever ago, I wouldn’t remember”

Its meaning changed and shifted as surely as the ripple of dunes in a desert. 

A minute.

An hour. 

Months.

Days. 

In the case of you and the person you’d called your soulmate, forever had been all of eight years. 

Eight years spent holding their hand. Kneeling down to tie the shoelace they never secured quite right. Sharing whispered conversations in the dim lights of orange streetlamps bleeding through frosted glass panes. Building futures where you moved in together, your smiles greeting each other after every long day, your arms always open and waiting for them to fall into. 

You’d never planned for a life without them in it.

Not once had you truly believed it possible for them to leave. 

So it was only natural that when they did, they took a part of you with them. The part of you that once believed in promises like “I’ll be by your side, always.”

Promises of “forever” or plans for the future had become intolerable. Feeling like a lie. A scam. Insincerity on your lips even when you wanted more than anything to believe it. Something that had once seemed so beautiful and bright in your eyes now filling your chest with grief. The weight of it pressing down on your heart, churning and swirling in waves so high and tumultuous they lapped against the sides of your throat so painfully there were days when something as simple as breathing burned. 

You were sure you’d never be able to build a connection that strong with another human soul. 

That was of course until you met him.

“Here’s your order”

Kang Yeosang was a quiet man. Offering you no more than a smile and your order every morning when you dropped by the cafe on campus.

You’d smile back, thank him, and get on with your day. 

It became routine, the familiar smell of coffee beans and chocolate chip cookies embracing you for a few moments as you steadied yourself, mentally preparing for the day ahead. The sound of the vintage bell above the shop door almost hypnotic in the way it caused your whole body to relax. The weight lodged in your chest and throat ebbing. Leaving behind the barren, still peace of low tide. 

Your commitment to this ritual and your usual order was so resolute that the pretty barista no longer asked what you wanted, realising early on that you deliberately came to the cafe early because you enjoyed the quiet.

As long as you never asked for anything different, which you never did, he would acknowledge you with a nod when you walked in before wordlessly moving round behind the counter to prepare your drink. Allowing you to bask in blissful silence for a few extra minutes. 

It was nice. 

”It’s on the house”

Your careful monotony was broken for the first time on a rainy Wednesday morning. You’d missed your first class of the day by sleeping through your alarm, woken up late, and neglected to bring an umbrella in your rush to leave your dorm. 

Voices prickle over your skin in the already crowded cafe, clusters of people looking to escape the damp and cold surrounding you on all sides despite the fact that you’d wedged yourself into a small table by the large glass windows, knee bouncing in agitation as you stared out at the steely grey sky. The rain on the way to the cafe had been mild, barely more than a drizzle, but whatever was brewing promised to be much, much worse, enough to force you to seriously consider making a trip back to your room to get an umbrella. 

But that would mean more time lost, more walking, potentially arriving to class much later than you’d intended, which really wouldn’t be so bad but it was still so frustrating and-

“y/n?”

The soft call of your name catches you off guard, the deep, velvety voice cutting cleanly through the chatter despite the caution laced through his tone. You look up, familiar, dark brown eyes blinking back at you, as though he was the one who should have been startled. “Your order,” he explains, setting down a to-go cup and a small paper bag. 

It takes you a moment to notice the addition, peering inside the bag and finding four small chocolate chip cookies nestled inside. “I didn’t order this,” you say, holding out the bag to him, confusion and irritation creasing your brow at yet another unexpected change. 

“Oh! I know…” he says, pushing the cookies back towards you, “it’s… it’s on the house.” 

His ears flush red as he says it, a lisp you hadn’t noticed before creeping into his voice when he hesitates, his words coming out a bit like a question. An offer. A hand reaching out and asking ’is this okay?’

You pause, frozen in place for a moment, a blush creeping up your neck to match his own. “Ah… well… thank you, yeosang.”

He smiles, pushing back against the flurry of butterflies coming to life in his chest. 

You remembered his name.

He wants to hear you say it again, his mind already replaying how sweet it sounded coming off your lips on loop, echoing through his skull so that when he goes over the scene again in his head he can’t be sure whether or not his next words came out quite right.

“Of course, what are friends for.”

From then on, there was always a bag with a different sweet treat tucked in beside your order, and for some reason, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate the surprise. 

”I’m happy to be spending time with you right now”

Is what yeosang says on all your dates. 

You’re not sure how exactly it happened. When small talk turned to sitting and sharing your morning beverages. When study dates became actual dates spread out over picnic blankets on the beach. When trips art exhibitions and bazaars shifted into walking hand in hand under the light of bright shop signs and flickering lampposts, a large reusable grocery bag filled with the ingredients needed to make pasta hanging off his shoulder.

It’s barely a date. But he insists that the impulsive decision to leave his house at 8:30pm to join you at the grocery store may as well be. 

Because he was with you. 

And that was all he needed.

Free hand wrapped loosely around your own, watching fondly as you tiptoe to avoid the cracks in the tiles. 

He’d asked you to be his that night. Perched on a swing set that hung far too low for his legs. Lips parting slightly when you leaned over to swipe at them, chocolate ice cream smeared across his skin. You were fussing, telling him that he shouldn’t be such a messy eater at the grown age of twenty one, when his expression made your words come up short. An open, searching fondness in his gaze that made your heart swell painfully against your ribcage. 

You knew that look. 

That was exactly how you used to look at them.

Yeosang seemed to sense your hesitation, placing his hand over yours on his cheek before you could back away. There was no force in his grip. No pressure holding your hand in place. You could have retracted it easily if you wished to. But you didn’t. The confusing ache in your chest craving more of his skin against yours. 

“Is this okay?” he’d asked, allowing your joined hands to drop, hanging in the space between you. 

You could only nod. Wanting to highlight the fact that he’d been holding your hand for the better part of an hour just before you’d sat down to enjoy your ice cream, but opted not to when you found you couldn’t quite trust your ability to speak without your voice shaking. 

Yeosang wasn't always the best at reading people. He'd discovered very early on in life that smiles and bright voices didn't necessarily come with good intentions, and it left him wondering if he'd simply been foolish. Unsure of whether or not it was his own fault that he'd misunderstood and gotten hurt in the process. 

He often felt lost when it came to navigating the emotions of those around him. Confusion swirling in the undercurrent of nearly all his relationships… but not with you. He was never unsure about you. 

Admittedly, he couldn't really say he'd fallen in love with you at first sight or anything (though he wished he could've). When you'd walked into that cafe and fumbled through your tote for your wallet he hadn't thought much about it at all, smiling patiently and going about business as usual. He doubted he'd even remember your name. But you were there again the next day, and the day after that (you brought a backpack instead of the tote with a cat on it), twice on Thursday (your hair was an absolute mess on your second visit), and on Friday you stayed till late, body folded over scattered notes and highlighters (it seemed like you had a habit of tugging your own hair when you were stressed). 

With each visit, he began noticing you more and more, till he found himself wondering what had happened to upset you, or what made your smile seem brighter that morning.

It took some time (and a lot of teasing from Wooyoung and Jongho) for him to realise that he liked you. That no, he did not pay that much attention to all his regulars. And then it took a little longer (and a little encouragement from Seonghwa) for him to muster up the courage to actually approach you. A part of him expected that maybe, once you both became closer, you'd start to close yourself off. That the same confusion he'd come to expect from everyone but Wooyoung and San would come creeping into his mind when you found reason to hide how you felt. 

But that day never came to pass. Yeosang was pleasantly surprised to find that the more he knew about you, the easier you were to decipher. Even if you refused to say anything, your lips pressed into a thin line when you were upset. No matter how many times you smoothed your expression over, your brow always creased with worry when you felt anxious. You crossed your legs when you were comfortable, and sat up straight and folded your hands in your lap when you weren't. None of these things changed as he got closer to you, and the closer his heart moved to yours the more he understood. 

More often than not, he knew almost instinctively what you needed. And on the few occasions where he was unsure, he knew he could ask, because you could never find it in you to lie to a person you loved. 

So he sat with you in silence for a while. 

Tracing abstract patterns over your knuckles. 

Allowing the steady trill of crickets and buzz of cicadas to fill the silence.

Knowing the negative space was something you needed, even if he wasn’t always sure why. 

He waited patiently for the sound of your breathing to deepen, your hand relaxing in his own, your body unconsciously leaning closer to him before he spoke. “Thank you for letting me join you tonight.”

You chuckled slightly in response, dragging the heel of your shoe over the cracked rubber floor of the playground. “I should be the one thanking you, how would I ever make it home with such a heavy burden in my hands,” you'd joked, gesturing to the plastic bag settled on his lap.

“Oh but of course, you're just a girl after all,” he said with a serious little pout. 

“I really am, I shouldn't have to cook my own dinner or carry big heavy things like parsley and blocks of cheese,” you tried your best to mimic his sombre expression back at him, but failed miserably, the two of you breaking into childish giggles as soon as your eyes met. 

You took a few breaths to calm down, looking up to find that Yeosang was already smiling at you. His eyes shining with unshed tears from laughing too hard, that same fondness glittering under the warm streetlights. 

He brought your joined hands up to his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to your knuckles before turning your hand over and placing another on your wrist. 

“My girl…” he whispered, though it sounded almost like a question. 

You didn't immediately respond, mind stuttering as the painful swell of your heart faded into something much different, something more gentle and fragile. 

Unfortunately for you both, Yeosang mistook your surprise for hesitation, backtracking quickly. “Sorry, I just mean… I'm… only if you want to be, we don't-” 

“Can you say it again?” 

“Huh?” he'd blinked in confusion, and you were smiling. A slow, giddy sort of smile that made him thankful for the low light of the park. 

It was your turn to bring his hand up to your lips, pressing a soft kiss against his racing pulse. “I want my boy to call me his again.” 

Yeosang was sure he might implode. 

”But you’re here all the time, we might as well move in together at this rate”

Panic sets in when he says it. 

You wish it wouldn’t. 

The fear that had been digging its way into your thoughts since you’d agreed to be his crawling over your skin, curling into an uncomfortable knot in your throat. 

You try to smile when he turns back round, try to remember what the two of you had been discussing when he placed the popcorn in the microwave, but your mind is moving too fast, pulling you further and further into yourself before you can fight it. 

“My love? You with me baby?” 

His voice calls you back. Just like that time in the cafe, it reaches you easily through the overlapping voices in your head, a hand coming to rest on your cheek. “Yeah… Yeah I’m okay… just tired,” you dismiss easily, placing a hand over his and offering him a strained smile that leaves him thoroughly unconvinced. 

He purses his lips, looking thoughtful for a moment before deciding on an answer. “What… what kind of tired?” 

“Uhm… regular? Tired?” you try.

“Nono, not that, I mean… body tired? Brain tired? People tired?”

Oh.

You realise what he’s trying to ask, and the answer that immediately comes to mind, clear even in your muddled state almost makes you giggle despite yourself. Wrapping your arms over his shoulders and clasping them behind his neck, pulling him a little closer to you. “I’m a little people tired, it’s been a long week, but I’m not you tired, sangie, I want you to stay.”

“Are you sure?” he asks, hands coming to rest where they’d made a home for themselves on your hips, “we can always raincheck movie night if you’re not feeling up for it you know…”

“I know, my love, thank you,” you say, resting your forehead on his chest, timing your breathing to his heartbeat, the knot in your throat slowly unwinding with each exhale, “I’m really alright though… just happy to be with you right now.”

Yeosang breathes a sigh of relief, pressing his lips to the crown of your head. “That’s my line you know…”

“Oh I’m sorry,” you huff playfully, “I didn’t realise that saying it back was copyright infringement.”

“Hmnnn, that doesn’t make you any less guilty though, now does it?” he hums, wrapping his arms more securely round your waist and slowly swaying your bodies from side to side. “There’s a penalty for this sort of thing you know.”

You snort, tipping your head up to look at him incredulously. “And what might that be, good sir?” 

“For a cutie like you? Mmmmmnnn… a dance?”

You gasp, batting your eyelashes in mock horror. “And what if I say it again? What awful sum would I have to pay then?” 

He pretends to think for a moment, the two of you now shuffling and swaying in time to music no one else could hear. “Perhaps… a kiss?” he says, head tipping to the side in a way he knows you can't resist. 

You tut, shaking your head and sighing defeatedly. “I suppose you leave me no choice then, I’m afraid I must confess that I am immeasurably happy in this moment, I’m so very desperately happy to be with you.”

You both manage to keep up a serious facade for all of two seconds before bursting into fits of giggles, clinging onto each other for dear life. 

Once you both calm down, yeosang presses another kiss to your hairline, holding your body close to his, wishing he could somehow be even closer so his heart could rest beside yours even when heaven took his soul. 

”You are my small but definite happiness too.”

[captainjackscoat]

Would anyone be willing to read a really shitty story about two gay asexual immortals who are both fully aware of the narrative (and one of them does fourth wall breaks every few minutes) and their twenty-year-old goth exorcist barista adoptive daughter?

edit: so I don't have to individually post the link every time

[aurorangen]

It was late into the night and Renee was back at the station. She needed to find the problem with Vincent's phone and why his messages didn't send. Renee relayed all the information Vincent told her and he emphasised using the hospital wifi. They figured his phone was hacked this way and someone was spying on him, preventing him from making calls or messages. With the cyber security knowledge of Captain Vazquez, they tracked the IP address of the device used to intercept Vincent's phone. And the location was Strangerville.

Now Renee had all sorts of thoughts in her head. Despite it being late at night, she found the whole process fascinating. And all the links to Strangerville. The police may be the only way to uncover more about the place and find out what the hell is going on there. Perhaps she should switch from her history course to criminology and become a detective. Yes, she will do that. Renee doesn't like history as much as she did anyway and she liked the idea of solving crimes.

[kingstarkingslay]

“ Make our barista laugh and get a free coffee “

except it’s Wolfstar where Sirius is the barista and Remus is the customer who tries to make him laugh.

Bonus: it could also be Jegulus with Regulus as the barista

[toomuchracket]

joyride (sub barista!matty x reader smut)

part of summer75. if you're not into pegging, avoid. if you are, enjoy! <3

humming softly to yourself, you turn the page of your book before taking a drag of your cigarette. a faint whimper from in front of you disturbs the peaceful vibe you've cultivated for yourself; exasperated, you exhale the smoke slowly, peering over the top of the book to see what all the fuss is about. “what, matthew?”

you won't lie and say the sight of your boyfriend isn't affecting you a little bit - matty looks delectable right now, all hazy-eyed and glistening tattoos and big arms bound behind his back, pretty cock hard and leaking as he sits on the glittery purple dildo harnessed to your hips. but it's friday night, you've had the week from hell at work, and you've made it crystal fucking clear that he isn't getting anything from you until you've decompressed a little bit, regained some energy.

and yet, here he is, still being a needy little slut.

“m'sorry, i just,” he sniffles, shaking slightly. “need you, cookie, please, please.”

despite yourself, part of your resolve crumbles; he just looks so gorgeous when he begs. you sit up, and he brightens, but his face falls again a beat later when he realises you're only moving to ash your cigarette in the tray on the bedside table, another whimper following from those pretty lips of his. they kiss your palm when you softly caress your boyfriend's cheek, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the soft skin - you might be a bitchy dom, but you do love him. “oh, my darling boy,” you coo, your voice saccharine. “you really need fucked that bad?”

matty nods, pathetic. “mhmm.”

“words, gorgeous.”

“sorry, sorry - yes,” he kisses your hand again in apology, and your heart flutters. “need you to fuck me so bad, baby, please. needed it all day.”

“and you didn't do it yourself?”

he shakes his head so furiously you fear for his neck. “no. wanted you. s'no fun without you.”

you smile. “good boy,” you lie back down, softly dragging your nails down his chest, ghosting over his length (and savouring the whine he lets out) before settling your hands on his thighs. “nothing else is as good as my cock, is it?”

“s'the best,” comes the breathy reply.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

you smirk. “show me how much you love it, then, go on. be a good little bunny and bounce on it while i finish reading, and then i'll fuck you, alright?”

“mmmkay… oh,” matty's eyes flutter as he slowly starts to ride the strap. he smiles, delirious. “thank you.”

“you're welcome, sweet boy,” you trace a heart into his thigh with your nail, and he giggles. “be good, yeah?”

“i will.”

and he is, actually - it's a struggle for you to keep focused on the last few pages of your chapter, because matty just looks so incredible fucking himself on your strap like that, but you manage it with no more begging from him. he beams when you toss the book to the side, blissful expression on his beautiful face. “hi, cookie.”

“hi, bunny,” you smile when his movements speed up at the pet name, which in turn has your hips moving slightly, desperate for some friction against your clit from the harness. “god, you look so fucking hot like that. s'turning me on,” you bring your hands up to your tits, not breaking eye contact with matty as you roll your nipples between your fingers and pinch them with a moan. he moans in reply, dick twitching, and you smirk. “like watching me touch myself, sweet boy?”

“yeah,” matty arches his back, and you assume he's just trying to angle himself better on the dildo; that is, until you feel calloused fingers brush your inner thigh. “let me touch you, too, please.”

fuck. he's perfect.

“alright,” you smile, eyes widening as he pushes two fingers inside you. “oh, baby.”

“good?”

you stroke his cheek again, sighing happily when he starts to finger you properly. “the best.”

matty huffs out a laugh, doing his best to curl his fingers inside you. the movement makes your hips jerk, sending the strap further into him, and he whines. “oh, shit, yes, please do that again.”

with a smirk, you oblige, snapping your hips up and enjoying the way his coherence crumbles with every thrust. his fingers slip out of you, but you don't mind - watching your boyfriend practically writhe on your cock and whimper garbled pleas is probably enough to get you off itself. that, and you know he'll reciprocate any orgasms you give him tenfold later. so you keep fucking up into him, biting your lip at the way his dick twitches more and more frequently, a telltale sign that matty's nearing orgasm. “bunny?”

his eyes snap open to look at you, and he croaks out a reply. “yeah?”

you grin. “can i fuck you properly to make you cum?”

matty's sex-addled brain takes a second to compute, and then his eyes widen. “oh, like-”

“missionary, yeah,” you drag your nails down his chest again. “wanna kiss my sweet boy when he cums.”

he whines. “please.”

you don't answer verbally. instead, you wink, and push your boyfriend as hard as you can until he falls backwards, quickly moving onto your knees in preparation. matty whimpers when the strap almost fully slips out of him, a whimper that turns into a guttural moan when you spit on the plastic and slam it back into him, over and over and over, mimicking the way he fucks you when he's desperate to get you off; judging from the way matty's legs shake, and the way his eyes roll back into his head with every movement of your hips, you're doing a good job.

he tells you as much, too, adoration peeking out from behind the pleasure haze in his eyes. “love you, cookie. feel so fucking good.”

“i love you,” you lean forward, fucking him even deeper as you kiss him sloppily, but oh so lovingly. “fuck, babe, i wanna make you cum so badly.”

“don't fucking stop, then,” matty murmurs against your lips. “m'so close, so fucking close. oh, shit, m'right there, right there.”

you smile against him, hand slipping down between your sweaty bodies to lightly stroke his dick. “cum for me, then, sweet boy.”

with a whimpered “fuck, fuck!”, he does just that, spilling over his own stomach and your hand with his lips pressed to yours. you kiss him sweetly, murmuring soft praises into him as you slowly pull out and lick his cum from your hand; when you move off him and the bed to undo the harness, cutting into the fat of your hips a little, matty whines, and you smile. “i'll be back in literally one second, my love.”

“hurry,” he pouts. “i miss you.”

“sap,” you roll your eyes, shimmying the harness off before working to untie the ropes binding your boyfriend's arms. “they feel okay?”

“yeah,” matty stretches as you climb back onto the bed and settle on your stomach beside him; his entire body jerks when you wordlessly take the head of his dick into your mouth and lightly suck on it, another whine leaving his lips. “baby, baby, m'too sensitive to go ag-”

“i know, sweetheart,” you coo, changing your focus to licking the cum from his stomach. “just getting you all cleaned up.”

he snorts, caressing your hair when you lay your head on his chest. “you know, there are these things called washcloths…”

“yeah, but,” you smirk up at him. “those are for people whose girlfriends aren't freaks.”

matty laughs loudly, that stupid hyena cackle of his that you love so much. “yeah, you're a freak alright,” he pulls you further onto him, kissing your nose and looking at you so tenderly you could cry. “but you're also the love of my life.”

“you're only saying that cos i pegged you.”

“nah, that's just a bonus,” he kisses you sweetly. “i love you, cookie. and i'm about to return the favour, by the way.”

“okay,” you smile against him. “i love you, too.”

[whinesandwhimpers]

obsessed!barista!soap is always working whenever you come in which happens to be at the same time every day so he has your coffee ready beforehand, mostly because he took the time to add a shot of his cum to your drink <3

[uhbasicallyjustmilex]

feeling very grateful for the cute barista today who clearly clocked a) my fontaines d.c. tote, and b) the fact i was stuck on a spectacularly bad date, and proceeded to play me an entire playlist of fontaines d.c. and sneak me extra vegan marshmallows with my hot chocolate