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angelkiyo · 4 months ago

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modern au high school hcs for my fav haikyuu boys based on my high school experiences + romance hcs <3

[suna rintaro, kageyama tobio, miya atsumu, kita shinsuke]

a/n- as someone whos high school is very populated and downtown, my takes on these are very correct. trust me bro. i��m bored too 🎧 — part two

suna rintaro

my man here is not stupid trust in a bitch (hardly tries and still gets a 3.5)

he would def run a fight account in high school (coming from someone who also did the same)

the name would be smt like 'inarizaki_fightclub' or 'inarizaki.bops'

atsumu would be the first submission to 'inarizaki.bops'

suna, in modern day high school, is the type of person who would also probably wear essentials fog or own shoes like onitsuka tigers

his type of style would be casual streetwear

would also have a secret finsta dedicated to random shit like his fits or random fights of the twins

would make shared playlists on spotify w you and would also stalk your airbuds to see what you listen to in order to add that type of music on your shared playlists

"oh? yeah i fuck with that artist too."

regular ft calls and sends you dark humor tiktoks

unlike the hcs some ppl do calling him a "stoner", he'd prob judge and cringe.

he's a volleyball athlete for god's sake

very trusting person w you and would be talking massive shit w you abt other people

you and him would co-run the 'inarizaki.bops' acc and you would make the captions

dates would include: at either of you guys’ places and movie nights, cozy dates and quality time

artists he would listen to: kendrick lamar, pinkpantheress, artic monkeys, a$ap rocky, xxxtentacion

kageyama tobio

now this guy...he's the type of person to take honors or aps, not try and still get at least a 3 on the exam (avg gpa would be 2.8 or smt)

he would def wear skinny joggers and nike crewnecks (ON A GOOD DAY) with overused air forces.

he would wear black air forces...

would have an insta account that doesn't post shit, but would still manage to get a good 500 followers.

central cee glazer

a p.e. tryhard

"bruh c'mon. it's not that fucking hard, just kick the ball."

if he didn't play volleyball, he would play basketball and be FUCKING GOOD.

one of those shy but very active kids.

would def always be texting you all the time if you're not there.

you two sharing an airpod while riding the bus tgt would very much be almost everyday

he would def wanna try to study w you during study hall and you two would be in a spotify friend jam (where you listen to the same music at the same time)

imessage games every time he's bored

you're the main reason he's even passing his classes in the first place.

dates would include: long walks around the city and the park. def a cute date

artists he would listen to: drake, lil uzi vert, playboi carti, mac miller, travis scott, yeat

miya atsumu

on track student, barely. (2.3 gpa)

one ap but it’s bringing his unweighted down HEAVY

would have a heart attack if he noticed his shoes creased and have a heavy nike/jordan collection

snapchat 'wyll' warrior and his snap score is most likely at least at 500k

be on drake's side during the kendrick beef

he would def have around 1.2k followers on his pub insta

if yall were dating, he would only follow you and a hypewear brand like bape or essentials

would wear those red plaid pants if inarizaki didn’t have a uniform

also an essentials wearer and ex-highlighter kid

car fanatic

would send you videos like “which toilet would you shit the hardest in”

his reposts would be ALL ABOUT YOU (then some complaining abt having a twin/volleyball tiktoks)

he would most def have a highlight abt you

but… he’s the most annoying p.e. tryhard EVER.

your friends most likely think he's weird and a bop

you would have to keep making excuses abt him

"he’s not that bad!!”

babe, he is most likely a dior sauvage user and he's on 'inarizaki.bops'…

dates would include: wingstop or fast food late at night + shopping sprees (he hypes you up when trying clothes on)

artists he would listen to: drake, playboi carti, charlie puth, sexyy red, gunna

kita shinsuke

he would most def be on stuco and national honors society (3.9 gpa)

would walk you home NO MATTER THE DISTANCE.

is the type to have a private insta with less than 100 followers bc he would be private

would post you and tag you. hard launch type of man.

GREENEST FLAG EVER.

would probably repost ‘inarizaki.bops’ posts ironically since they include his teammates

he would def wear casual but not hella casual either

imagine linen pants, baggy jeans, and the occasional stussy shirt

kita would be the type of guy to write you those extravagant love letters that are 4 feet tall

would write your initial on the side of his shoes (idk if yall have seen that but yeah)

he would def also get you those forever rose bouquets

the two of you would def be playing badminton together as a hobby

study hall w him is serious and also fun

“okay okay, now let’s get back to these functions”

dates would include: taking you out to dinner and cute cafe dates

artists he would listen to: the weeknd, the 1975, eyedress, wave to earth

part two

#haikyuu #miya atsumu #kita shinsuke #fluff #haikyuu fluff #kageyama tobio #kageyama x reader #suna x reader #suna rintaro #atsumu x reader #kita x reader #haikyuu x reader #kageyama #kita #suna

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alien-magnolia · 2 years ago

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Spoiled

Dom!codedJoel Miller x sub!coded fem reader

Fic description/ idea: Hyperfem!reader goes on a date with Joel, inviting him over for dinner, and a movie, on an early October evening. She’s a bit too feminine, childish, and very, very shy! That makes Joel want her even more <3

18+ mdni! protective Joel miller, hyperfeminine fem! innocent!reader, daddy!kink, breeding kink, corruption / innocence kink, bimbo/dumb!kink, praise/degradation! kink, bj, rough sex, unprotected sex (wrap it up y’all) lil bit of service kink too

Wc: 3.7k. If you like this post, pls help a writer out and reblog :)

Part two: spoiled

October 7, 2001. 6:55 PM

“Shit, shit… you thought to yourself. He was almost here. A sharp knock on the door. Seven o’clock sharp, like he said. You hastily make your last adjustments in the mirror. Your white acrylic nails brush down your light pink skirt, a white little tank with hearts on top.

You dressed as if you were a child, and sometimes had no common sense. You loved stuffed animals and the color pink. Everyone has always told you that you were way too giddy, innocent. You wore bows in your hair sometimes. Nobody ever saw you without some sparkling jewelry — gold, usually. The man you were going on a date with? A contractor.

A construction worker, who spent all day in the dirt, working. Physical work — something that you were just not strong enough for. You scoff as you imagine your dainty hands doing such work. A bottle of Dior perfume, some heart shaped earrings, a necklace. White sneakers, a pink cardigan to match.

Joel was your first date, well — ever.

Before him, you haven’t gone out with any man whatsoever. It’s been a few weeks since you first met him, and the two of you have been on a few dates outside so far. You loved walking down the street with him, his big strides besides your little ones, his large hand always on the small of your back, guiding you. You felt so nice, so safe.

You skip over to the door, worried that he might be mad at you for making him wait. You open it. His eyes quickly dart over to you. “Hey, sweetie. What took ya so long?,” he asks, his gaze making you a little weak in your knees. You lean against the doorway, just in case. “Umm…,” you start off.

“I'm just messin’ w ya. Can I?” You nod, and move aside so he can step in. Tonight, your date was just going to be at your home. You even ordered some dinner beforehand. Your nervousness makes your hands shake as you try to close the door behind you. He comes up behind, his hands over yours. “Let me help, yeah?” You nod, blushing a bit. His hands were just so much bigger than yours!

“Hey. I, um, made us dinner. Well, ordered some. I can set it up, just sit down anywhere,” you babble at him. He nods, sitting at the counter. You set up a few plates and some food in front of him, even folding a napkin for him before placing it in front of the plate. He chuckles to himself as he watches you frantically search for a glass. You set it down in front of him.

“Something to drink, Mr. Miller?,” you ask, glancing down at your shoes. You were just too nervous!! “Some beer would be nice,” he says with a half smile. He thought you were god damn adorable, unbeknownst to you, of course. You grab a beer from the fridge, your small hands twisting around the cap, trying to open it.

“Lemme have it. Thanks, sugar,” his brown eyes concentrate on opening the beer, something that came so easily to him, his biceps flexing as he opened it.

You try to get onto the tall stool that you had for your island. You loved how modern they looked, and they fit the elegance of your kitchen. Only thing — you were too short for it. You struggle a bit to lift yourself up onto the chair. “Let me,” he says as he gently helps you up, his calloused hands running over the plush of your hips for a bit. He smelled like Old Spice and sawdust. Actually, there was some on his hands, now on your skirt as well.

“Thank you, Mr. Miller. Or, um — I can call you Joel, right?,” you sheepishly ask him as he walks back to where he was sat before. “Of course, hon.’ Joel’s fine. That mister stuff is too formal anyways. We’ve been on a few dates anyway.” You giggle at his southern drawl, slow, like molasses. “Just bein’ honest,” he shrugs in defense as he sees you try and hide your laughter. “I’m just really having a good time,” you reassure him, and he smiles at you again. God — his smile just made you melt!

You clean the table and wash the dishes after him, as he sits manspread on the couch, head tilted, watching you. Unbeknownst to you, he loved it when a woman cared for him like you did. After you finish cleaning after him, (he did offer to help but you insisted —) he asked you to join him on the couch.

“C��mere, sweetheart. How about a movie, yeah?” You nod and scamper over to him. “Ya into horror? I brought some DVD’s. My daughter and I watch this stuff all the time. Figured you’d like it,” he explains, patiently waiting for you to respond. You were absolutely terrified of horror movies, yet you figured you wouldn’t want to disappoint him. You agree, and he shows you this DVD case with a glowing pumpkin and knife, titled “Halloween.” He explained to you that it was from the 1970’s, as he got the movie set up.

The opening credits began to roll, you snuggled a bit closer to him. He was a bit sweaty, but you did not mind, he was probably just exhausted from work. “Sorry if I smell, hun. We had a tough job today. Came straight here after I was done.” “It’s okay! Must be hard to build stuff,” you say in an attempt to relate. “Well, technically, contractors don’t always build. They plan too, sugar,” he explains with a bit of a chuckle.

“Oh…,” you trail off. Fuck, you felt stupid. You didn’t know much about many things. Some said that you lived under a rock. You sheepishly blush as he leans over to give your cheek a little peck as he starts the movie. “S’okay, hun. I get it,” he chuckles.

At first the movie didn’t seem too horrible — it was just a nice showcase of a teen’s mid afternoon in late fall. However, you started to hide behind your hands, grabbing the nearest pillow, whimpering a bit even when the killer came on screen! Joel noticed you were starting to get a little uncomfortable, your pink nails fidgeting with the hem of your skirt.

“Scared?,” he asked nonchalantly. “Um. A bit,” you confess, scratching the back of your neck in embarrassment. “Don’t be. Jus’ a movie, hun. C’mere,” his hairy arm stretched out to you, draping over your shoulders (and hip!) as you leaned into him. You place your head on his shoulder, you feel his prickly beard on your forehead.

As the girl on the screen continued to be stalked by the silent killer, from across the street, from her school, her commute home…you slowly slinked down the couch, until your head was basically next to the pillow Joel was leaning against.

The girl on screen was now watching tv under her soft throw blanket, the camera drifting to the backyard, where the sharp chill of the October air lurks, alongside the killer, now behind a tree. You close your eyes, covering them with your hands. You peek at the movie, seeing the killer lure the girl into the backyard. He strikes!!

You watch in horror as the killer puts his large knife into the screaming woman. Tears well up in your eyes, and your vision gets blurry! You begin to sniffle, this movie was just so, so, frightening!

Joel, entranced by the movie, looks down to see you sniffling, trying to wipe away the tears with your sweater. He reaches over for the remote to pause it. “Hey. What’s wrong, huh?,” he asks, voice soft, gentle, as if not to spook you.

“It’s a little scary. What if he comes after me??,” you ask him, voice breaking with a few sobs in between. “I’ll turn it off then. Should’ve told me ya didn’t like movies like this, darlin.’ I wouldn’t have watched it with ya,” he almost reprimands you, just like a dad would to his little girl. You sniffle some more, your doe eyes looking up at him.

He couldn’t let you know, of course, that your tears and cute little frown were making him hard as a rock. Well — not yet, at least.

He gently pulls you onto his lap, his calloused hands the size of your knee, easily wrapping around your thighs. This soothed you a bit, as well as igniting an ache in you — an ache that you rarely had.

“Was just a bit scary. But, I wanted to watch it to make you happy, Joel,” you tell him, a bit ashamed of yourself. “You already make me happy, sugar. Just by bein’ here with me. I’ll turn this off, yeah?”

You nod, clinging to him still as he turns off the tv. You smile at him, grateful that he has made you feel better. “Sorry if it scared ya. You probably don’t know much about things, but that’s okay,” he apologizes, his face getting closer a bit. “Is it ok if I kiss ya? You don’t have to say yes,” he reassures.

You giggle a bit. “I’d, um — actually like to. Cause I like you, you know?,” you shyly ask him, expecting a reaffirmation,validation, of your feelings for him.

“I’m glad,” he whispers, wiping some tears from your face. His large hand on your cheek guides your face closer to him, his soft lips meeting yours for a kiss. You felt his prickly beard on your soft cheeks, he tasted faintly of mint, some of the sawdust still stuck to his fingers rubbed off on your cheek.

His kisses got more aggressive, and there you felt that itch again! What was it?? He pulls away for a sec. “You still doing okay, sweetie? You wanna take this a bit further?,” he asks. You think. You were not sure. You never went further with anyone, ever.

“I do, here’s the thing, I — um, never did any of that stuff before. I hope it does not hurt…,” you trail off. He chuckles at your innocence. God — he was going to ruin you. In the best way possible.

“We’ll take it slow, yeah, kid? Your outfits n’ all, your hair, these cute lil’ things,” he points at the pink butterfly clip in your hair. “It just makes you look so goddamn adorable. Wanted ya for a while, hun.”

The heavy blush spread across your cheeks is paralyzing. You’re paralyzed. He’s so close, his veiny hand on your thigh, his stubble, his smooth Texan voice…fuck it. You wanted him. You wanted to go all the way.

“Okay, Joel. Let’s do it. You’ll show me, right?,” you ask, voice shakier than ever. Only his presence had your heart rate skyrocketing. “Yeah, sugar. Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle,” he says softly.

His hands grip your thighs tightly, squeezing. You sighed from his sheer strength, his calloused hands and thick fingers caressed your soft and smooth thighs. Your little manicured hands found his face, and then draped around his neck, his thick arms (with a large vein running down each of them, and plenty of hair <3 ) sliding up to hold you by your hips. You grind a bit up onto him, the soft plush of your thighs on his waist, so big, so wide compared to you. His lips keep in a dance with yours, soft, slow, warm. You were losing your breath kissing him, and yet you loved feeling his stubble graze your chin, over and over again, while he periodically let out a deep moan. You keep grinding into him, stopping all of a sudden once you feel his hardness beneath those cargo pants covered in remnants of asphalt and dirt.

“Did I do that?,” you ask, innocently. He lets out a soft chuckle. “See, hun?

His hands knead at your soft, plush, hips, slowly grinding you onto his already semi-hard cock. The tip touched your lips, and although both of you were still clothed, you tried your best to suppress a moan. You failed. Seems like he failed, too.

“Wanna help me undress, sweetie?,” he asks you, breath heavy just like yours, your lips felt cold without his. You nod silently. He brings a hand to your cheek to pinch it a bit, smiling. “What a good girl you are, hun. Get on your knees f’me.”

You do as said, sitting on your knees in front of him, his legs manspread. “Help me take off my belt, yeah?,” he asks, eyes meeting yours for assurance. You nod, you were ready. Your tiny hands find his brown, leather belt, struggling a bit to pull it off. Once the belt is loose, you wait for your next instruction. “Unzip. Go ‘head. I don’t bite,” he chuckles. “Not yet at least…,” he murmurs in a low tone.

Your face is hot, red and hot as you unzip his jeans, sliding them down, revealing his strong, hairy thighs, his toned lower legs, and most importantly — some gray boxers, sporting a noticeable tent.

Your eyes focus only on the tent. You swore you saw some pre-cum on those boxers. Fuck. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes. “What’s next, Joel?,” you ask, voice sickeningly sweet.

“Why don’t ya take off my underwear.” You do as said, his already hard cock springs out at you, the tip red, angry, leaking!! His cock had a large vein running down the right side, with some awfully plump <3 balls to match. You didn’t notice that you were drooling until Joel caught you.

“Drooling, huh baby? S’okay. I know I’m a lot to take in, kid,” he patronized you, as his big hand grabbed your face again, leading you closer to his cock. “Can use your mouth and hands, okay, kid? Don’t be afraid.” With that, his hand brings your face even closer to his cock. “Open wide,” he chuckles, and you do as said, tongue sticking out. With both his hands still on your face, he slides his cock in your mouth.

The tip feels heavy against your tongue, and drool covers the rest of his cock that is outside your mouth. You begin to gently suck, one hand at the base of his cock, the other fondling his balls. God — you started to hear the sound of those hearty moans coming from him, his big chest heaving, his shirt already off. He had so much chest hair!!!

His hands ran through your hair as you suckled on his throbbing cock. “Fuck. Mmm, that’s, that’s my good girl. My good little girl, pleasing me like this,” he moaned out, and you swore you felt yourself get wet. That was new to you.

His cock slides out of your mouth with a little pop. “‘Nough about me, sweetie. Why don’t you come sit on my lap? Take off that pretty pink skirt of yours, yeah?,” he asks, his smile predatory. He helps you off your knees, and pulls you into his lap, his hard cock now pressed directly against your lips.

“This okay?,” he asks, checking in. You nod, grinding your hips against him instinctively. He chuckles at your neediness. “Someone’s needy, huh? Does my little girl need daddy’s cock…,” he patronizes as he brings you in for a few kisses. “Daddy…,” you repeat back to him. That name fitted him, you thought. He was strong, caring, and most of all, took care of you and ALL your needs! <3

“Need it…,” you moan out, pausing for a bit, before adding a soft “daddy,” whispering it in his ear. He almost growls at you, hands bringing you closer to his dick, while he pulled off your skirt, revealing your pretty pink lace thong in view.

“Fuck. What I wouldn’t do to cum on this pretty lil’ thing of yours, sweetie. Y’know what, keep ‘em on,” he instructs you. You nod your head giddily, excited to finally take his cock.

After adjusting you and himself, his thick fingers trail gently over your lower abdomen, sliding in between your lips, massaging your lips and clit slowly, gently. He unclasps your bra, his large hands holding your tits, kneading them. You feel yourself losing your balance. He takes his fingers out, with a squelch <3

“Ah.. Joel!!,” you squeal out. “Already too much for my girl? Look at you, so wet f’me. You think that pretty pussy can take me?,” he questioned you.

“Yes! Yes, I promise. Please,” you beg him, as he tuts, almost not believing you. “Yes, what, sugar?” “Yes, daddy,” you obediently replied. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, pinching your cheek again with his strong fingers. With that, you feel the throbbing, hot tip slide into you. You already squeezed around his cock, so tightly, just wanting to be filled to the brim.

He groans loudly — “fuck. Pulling me in, sweet girl. Can I go deeper? How slow do ya want me?,” he asks you, still concerned since this was your first time.

“Want you in deep, daddy. Please, deep, and fast!!,” you cry out. “Alright hun. Grab onto daddy’s shoulders,” he instructs you, as he helps you move closer onto him, your hands moving to grip at the back of his wide back and neck, for support.

You feel him push into you, pulsing. He was in, halfway, and you already felt so full!! “Doing okay? Look at you, sweet girl taking my cock so well. Doing so good for me, sugar,” he moans out as he stills inside of you.

He had to be gentle, of course. He was sure there were going to be moments where his cock just simply bullied your pussy, but — now was not the time. It was your first time, after all. He was so glad to be the one to corrupt you. To give you your first, addicting, taste of cock. A taste you would never stop chasing.

“Gonna go all the way in now. Hold on, ‘kay?,” he reassures you. You nod, as he pushes into you all the way, in one big motion. His tip was reaching your cervix, brushing against that sweet spot perfectly!! He was that itch that you finally got to scratch.

He asks you how it feels. You tell him that you love every minute of it. With the help of his hands, he guided you up and down on his shaft, the sound of his soft, swollen balls hitting your lips was heard throughout the room. “J-Joel. F-faster. P-p-please.” Even with his cock pumping into you slowly, you were still almost at a loss for words.

“Look at you, using your manners f’me, sweetie. Doing good,” he patronizes you, it made you feel so needy, so dumb, just a cock hungry little thing all ready for him!!

He started bouncing you on his cock, faster, deeper, his balls now hit your lips!! All the while, his Texan voice just taunted and taunted you. “My good girl. Bouncing on my cock, like a little bunny.” You babble and moan in response. “Aww. Too full to talk, bunny? S’okay. You just sit there and take it,” he would say to you, in between kisses on your breasts and face!!

You were not sure about how much time had passed. All you knew was the feeling of him inside, twitching, his hearty, deep groans, pumping you full of his cum… you could barely sit up after how sore you were!! You had also experienced your finish too — it was amazing. The both of you came together, and after that you slowly started to drift into a sleep.

————————————-

“Ya with me, hun? Was I too rough?,” you wake to the sound of Joel’s voice. You were in your room, tucked under the soft, pink and fuzzy blanket throw you had over your bed. Joel was in his boxers and nothing else, next to you. You were in his arms, your head propped onto one of your stuffed animals. “Hi,” you murmur at him. “Hi,” he smiles back. “Was it okay? Did ya like it?,” he asks, with genuine concern. You nod, giddily. You tell him you loved it, and that you were glad that he was your first. He chuckled, “Glad you feel that way, sugar. I like these stuffed animals of yours too. They’re cute, like you,” he says, a warmth in his eyes. You smile back at him, bringing him into a kiss.

The two of you cuddled for a while longer, until he realized that he had to be back home. “But, um…Joel. My parents won’t be home for the weekend, and I don’t like being home alone,” you confess to him. Here was your innocence and naivety, once again. Most people found it annoying, or strange.

Not him.

He thought for a moment. “Ya know what, sugar. I’ll stay. You’ll be safe with me, sweets. Although I might have to go to work on Sunday,” he tells you sheepishly. You giggle and snuggle closer to him, his mustache brushing over your smooth face as he smothers you in gentle kisses. The rest of the night, the two of you spent it by watching more movies. He took care of you. He gave you what you needed, opened things for you, he even ran a bath for you later that night. How could someone be so sweet?

“You’re too nice to me, Joel,” you tease. “Sweet girls like you deserve nice, plain and simple, bunny.”

You giggle, a bit flustered as the next movie comes on screen. It was a perfect way to spend a chilly, October evening.

#liz’s masterlist #liz writes 🖤#joel miller x reader #joel miller hot #joel miller x hyperfem!reader #dom!joel miller #tlou smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller imagine #joel miller headcanon

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unholyhelbig · 1 year ago

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How about a bartender!Kate in which Kate is a new employee of the bar that reader frequents on bad days and Kate is one of the first people not to sympathize with her and just full of banter. I just think a cocky bartender Kate would be �� neat

[This is 18+, if you are a minor DO NOT INTERACT]

Title: Two Fingers of Whiskey

Ship: Female!Reader x Bartender!Kate Bishop

Warnings: Top!Kate, Bottom!reader, Dom!Kate, Sub!reader, light dom/sub, finger sucking, Fingering (r receiving), Hate fuck (?) yeah, this is a hate fuck.

[A/n: Go easy on me, I haven't written smut since my Pitch Perfect days & I've been under quarantine for the last five days, I've got brain rot & did not proofread.]

Main Masterlist | Read my stuff on AO3 | Leave Requests

Kate began to expect your visits. Her eyes would drift to the novelty Miller High Life clock that was hanging on the wall. Six pm. Twice a week you’d wander into the bar and let out the haze of smoke and Dior Fahrenheit. Your eyes would search for hers with the same amount of ferocity, and Kate would try to swallow back the pride that was resulted by your hatred.

It started out as hatred, anyway.

Kate Bishop had made it a point to listen to people and their problems. Being a bartender at a seedy basement establishment was more than mixing drinks and cracking open frothy beers. She’d been told her first week that she was a half-bit therapist, and had laughed it off until she was listening to stories of corporate drabble, sudden deaths, and quiet loveless frustrations.

It had been two years since she started the nightshift at Copper’s, and she could spot the sadness from miles away. She could spot that frustration too. Kate became admittedly bored with the way her life had fallen into routine, so when a certain energy presented itself, she pushed.

Kate loved to push with you.

You’d looked tentative when you’d first entered Copper’s, your gaze moving across the dark green paint, the booths that were sticky. Your nice shoes had crunched over broken peanut shells and a certain film covered the walls, the stained-glass lamps over each table. Your hand tightened on your bag, and that gave Kate a sick sort of satisfaction. You took note of her nametag, not customed, a small label being printed and taped over an existing name.

She admired the way you carried yourself with such assuredness after allowing for one moment of doubt. Instead of turning around and going back out onto the busy city streets, you took the two steps down and carefully sat yourself at the far end of the bar.

“We don’t have anything fancier than a house white.”

“Boston Lager?”

You’d lifted a perfect eyebrow and Kate nodded stuffing the rag she’d been using into her back pocket before reaching into the cooler and pulling out the dark amber bottle. She used the edge of the counter to pop the cap off, not caring where it landed. Foam dripped across her fingertips, and she forbade a coaster when she set it down in front of you.

Two sips before you spoke. The first was tentative, and the second was assured. Kate watched carefully as your throat worked at the drink. She frowned in the dark light, trying to rush away any inappropriate thoughts of her lips against an expanse of skin.

“I’m not pretentious.” You said, setting the bottle down.

Kate hummed. It was a non-committal noise. She picked up one of the glasses, still warm from going through the dishwasher, and went on wiping the detergent spots from the clear surface. Though, she saw you frown out of the corner of her eye and bit back her reaction.

“Seriously. You offered me wine.”

“You don’t like wine?”

“No. I like wine; I just don’t like when strangers presume that I like wine.”

Kate couldn’t help but smile at this. She replaced a glass and grabbed another one. The frustration on your face was admirable, and you seemed to balk at Kate’s direct attention. You fidgeted and began to peel the edges of the dark blue label on your drink, only where the condensation had allowed easy removal.

“We have house white, darling.”

“White Horse, then. Straight.”

Kate scoffed and set her second glass down. If she had been worried, truly worried, that you were going to do something stupid she would give you a few more watered down beers and send you on your way. But she liked the way you wanted to spite her. It made her fingers twitch. She pulled the bottle from the second shelf and counted two fingers of whiskey.

You took it back in one gulp, breathing through your nose before taking a tiny sip of your beer to quell the burn. Kate was infatuated with the way you sat straighter, the way you flashed her a small cocky smile. I can take the hard stuff.

“Rough day, then?” Kate sighed and filled your glass again, calling your bluff.

She leaned against the counter and watched you watching her. It gave her a sick pleasure, nudging you like this. She wouldn’t’ go far, really, she just needed to have some break in her normal routine, and you seemed like you needed a few things to forget yourself.

“The roughest.” You leveled her with an apprehensive stare. “You care?”

“Not particularly. But I’ll listen.”

“You’re an ass.”

“I’m an ear.” Kate made a sweeping motion with her hand “be my guest, sweetheart. You can vent to anyone in here.”

It was just the two of them. Sure, in about an hour, her usual crowd would rear its head. There were only three others that frequented, and they lingered by the one pool table and ordered two pitchers of the cheapest beer. They left Kate alone and she left them alone.

You contemplated her offer for a brief moment, letting out a labored breath as if Kate was burdening you instead of offering relief. “I have a shitty client. Very demanding.”

“What do you do?” Kate tried.

“I’m an archivist for the city of New York. Cold Cases mainly. There are hundreds of thousands of physical case boxes that reside in basements and closets just waiting to be digitally entered.” You threw back your drink and tapped the side of the glass. Kate took the hint and poured until the buttery liquid coated the bottom.

Kate had to admit; that was quite the job. It sounded like a lot of sadness, however, that wasn’t what you carried on your shoulders tonight. Annoyance was the overarching emotion that was expressed on your delicate features.

So, the bartender did what she did best, she didn’t’ ask about what was in the boxes. She wasn’t privy to know. She wanted to know what about the boxes bothered you to the point of drinking close to a handle of liquor in a seedy bar.

You answered before she could ask “corporate bullshit. They want us to enter all of these cases for the pure purpose of shelving them electronically. I mean, we don’t even have a cold case unit anymore. But some of these… you can tell the leg work wasn’t done. The boyfriend did it. The jealous co-worker, it’s all written so plainly that I stupid archivist that should be working at a museum can see it!”

“Wow.” Kate said.

“Wow?”

She hummed again, this time after you swallowed your drink, she took the glass and threw it into the plastic tub. It made an empty hollow sound. Kate grinned at you in this infuriating type of way that made you want to kiss her or slap her. Either way, you shifted uncomfortably.

“What do you want me to say, sweetheart? That’s a shit situation, yeah. But there are shittier ones.”

“You are such an ass.” You repeated your earlier sentiment. She smiled brighter.

“That’ll be $15.00 even.”

Despite her difficulty, you dug through your bag until you threw a twenty on the counter and mumbled that she keep the change. Kate watched as you left that day and the smile never left her face. She liked you, she thought. And more than anything, she knew that you would be back. There was something about Kate’s lack of caring that got to people. There was no sympathy, only agreement.

Two days later you were back inside the grimy interior of Copper’s. It took Kate a second to recognize you. Instead of nicely pressed clothing, you were in a pair of gray sweatpants and a t-shirt that had the band ‘Rush’ scrawled across your chest. Kate didn’t’ let her stare linger. You sat in the same stool, and Kate felt your eyes rake her up and down.

“Have you lodged a formal complaint against me?” Kate asked.

“No.”

“Good. Then what can I get for you, darling?”

You ordered the same Boston Loger as before and Kate complied, not even offering the cheap box-wine they served in a chilled glass just to make it taste a little more worth-it. Strands of hair fell into your eyes and Kate clenched the dishtowel in her hands a little harder to keep herself from reaching forward and brushing them from your stare.

Kate couldn’t hold her tongue, and that annoyed her. The first time she saw you, it was so easy to grate on your nerves. This time, you looked slightly broken, and even Kate had her limits when it came to bothering the patrons.

“What’s wrong?” Kate asked.

“Do you care what’s wrong?”

“If I’m honest, not in the slightest. But you seem bothered, and I’m the only one around the listen.”

“How long?”

Kate raised both of her eyebrows and lilted her head to the side like a confused animal. She had both of her palms pushed up against the bar, a tank-top with the logo of the establishment stretched across her chest. Your mouth was dry, but you didn’t take a sip of your drink. Kate watched as your fingers delicately circled the opening of the amber bottle. You blinked at her, eyelids heavy.

“Excuse me?”

“How long are you going to be alone here?”

She blinked to make sure she heard you right. She had someone coming in to relive her in about an hour but was more than happy to sit here and talk with you until that time. It seemed like you had other ideas, and part of her was curious about that. It shot straight to her core and warmed her cheeks.

“You’re not going to murder me, are you?” Kate teased.

“And add to all those boxes I have to archive? Please.”

Kate cleared her throat and started to work at the back of the apron at her waist. It seemed frantic and you finally lifted your drink, downing it in a few gulps. You needed to let off some steam, it seemed, and Kate was more than happy to provide. After-all, she was a bartender and her job was to listen- to provide. Kate rationalized all of this before she had her apron off.

“Would you look at the time?” you stood, reaching into your pocket and pulling out a ten. “I’m running late. Keep the change, darling.”

Kate paced back and forth along the length of the bar, muttering things to herself. She deserved that, really- she did, but it had been three whole days and she was still sufficiently pissed off that you had thrown her attitude right back at her. That wasn’t allowed.

No one had ever done that to her before and you’d made her stomach roll with attraction and even anticipation with just a few simple words and insinuations. Sure, you tipped well, and you drank and then left, but she didn’t actually want to admit that she was having fun talking to you.

And more than anything, she didn’t want to admit that she was flicking her eyes to the clock on the wall, getting only a slight bit of relief when it passed your usual time. Today, however, you did show up.

Kate could feel the tension in her jaw as she watched you walk through the doors. The scent had become familiar to you, something she could tell by the way you breathed in deeply, grounding yourself.

You wore tighter clothes, and Kate struggled not to rake her eyes up and down your figure, the way the fabric hugged every inch of you. The sweatpants and t-shirt were gone, instead you had on a dress with a long slit running up the side, exposing tanned skin. She focused on the way you walked, the way you leaned forward on the bar, pressing your cleavage forward.

“This isn’t going to work twice.” Kate said, crossing her arms over her chest.

She was admittedly sore over your teasing, despite how well-earned it was. And that tight dress did look stunning on you. Even the low smoggy haze of Coppers she shivered at the thought of tearing it off of you, of moving the zipper down the small of your back and kissing up your spine.

You cleared your throat. “I actually came here to apologize.”

“Did you, now?”

“Yes,” You said through gritted teeth as if it physically pained you to say the words. “You were right… the first time we met. My problems seem big, but compared to other things, they’re not detrimental. Even though I was mad, teasing you like that was below me.”

“Oh, I’m not so sure much is below you.”

Kate raked her eyes up and down your body. Your cheeks heated and you let out a groan. Because damn-it, she was so infuriating, and though you’d come back to the bar a second time to drive her crazy, it seemed to have the opposite effect.

“I have the keys to the boss’s office.” Kate offered deviously “No windows and a desk.”

Kate watched you swallow hard, contemplating her offer. She twirled the keys around her ring finger expertly and when you finally nodded she felt herself lean against the counter, close enough to where her lips brushed yours, the warmth was all encompassing, electrifying.

“I need to hear you say it, sweetheart. What exactly do you want?”

With hesitation you forced the words through your lips. This was wildly out of character for you, usually prim and proper and not demanding things from a strange bartender with ghostly blue eyes and expert fingers. “I want you to take me into that office and fuck me until I can’t walk.”

Kate smiled, closing the gap between the both of you with a breathless kiss, her tongue invading your mouth. You moaned into the simple gesture before she pulled away. “All you had to do was ask.”

With a chivalrous gesture, Kate took your hand and guided you easily down a large step behind the bar. You’d never seen this side of things, and though you hadn’t expected anything breathtaking, it gave you a better view of the empty establishment.

You didn’t have much time to contemplate as you were guided through a narrow hallway that had an employee schedule posted on the wall, and a few boxes of unopened liquor. There was a citrus scent that invaded your senses and soon you were out of the cold and in a small office that looked as if it hadn’t been touched in months.

The hum of the cooling units was drowned out and a warmth caused bumps to rise against your skin. Kate had you pushed against the door in a matter of seconds, her mouth back on yours, a knee between your legs, shoving them open. Desperately, you tried to grind down, alleviating some of the heat in your core.

Kate’s hand came up to grip your chin, disconnecting her lips from yours “We’re impatient, aren’t we?”

You could only whimper in response, the corner of Kate’s mouth lilted up into a semi smile, too much like a smirk for your liking. The expression did things to you. Here was this cocky bartender that was too content for her own good- yet, in this moment, you would let her have you in any way she wanted.

“I’ll fuck you senseless on the desk, but only if you can be patient. Can you do that for me? Can you be a good girl?”

“I… yes.”

“What was that? I thought we talked about you using your words, sweetheart.”

“Can you please fuck me on the desk? I’ll be a good girl.”

That seemed to be enough. Kate slid her hands around to the back of your thighs and lifted you with an unnatural bout of strength, a noise of surprise escaping your lips. You had seen her arms a few days earlier when she was in that tank-top, but she had settled you on the desk effortlessly, standing between your legs.

Kate’s mouth nipped at your jawline, sucking perfect bruised circles against your skin that she soon soothed with her tongue. You didn’t mind her marking you, though you mentally made a note to pick up some concealer on the way home. She made quick work with the zipper at your spine, pulling it down to the warm air. She slid your sleeves down your shoulders, exposing your breasts to her prying eyes.

She took a moment to admire you, giving your hip a small squeeze. You took the hint and lifted off the desk just enough for her to pull the rest of the fabric away. It dropped to the floor. Kate smiled at you, drinking you in. “Wow”

“Wow?”

Kate hummed and returned to working at your chest. This time she went lower, nipping at the sensitive skin around your nipple. You dug your fingers into the fabric of her shirt, letting out a groan of pleasure. Her fingers were testing at the waistline of your underwear, not quite dipping past the elastic.

Kate’s tongue was so warm, so encompassing. You arched your back, not denying her access to any part of you. Her expert hands finally pushed past the barrier of fabric, running up your entrance.

“Oh, shit, darling. You’re so worked up.” Her words vibrated against you, and you struggled not to buck forward, to press into her lingering touch. Kate seemed to sense your frustration. “uh-uh, we’re being patient, remember? If you want release, you’ll have to beg for it.”

Beg? You weren’t the begging type. Unfortunately, you weren’t in the position to do anything but what she demanded. The thought of Kate inside of you, even in the smallest capacity, was driving you insane.

“Kate,” You hummed her name.

A sound got stuck in her throat at the sound of her name pushing through your kiss-bruised lips. She edged the end of the noise, almost phrasing it like a question. She didn’t want to give herself away, how much seeing you like this got her wet.

“Please, I need you inside me. I need to feel you.”

Before you could get out another word, she pushed a single, teasing finger inside. You fell forward, pressing your nose against the small of her neck with an exasperated breath. Kate painstakingly added another finger, pumping in and out of you with a method to her madness. You bit into her shoulder, not enough to hurt, but enough to muffle your noises of satisfaction as she swiped her thumb against your clit.

Kate’s other hand returned to your breast, squeezing and toying. It sent pleasure straight to your core, and Kate could feel you begin to tighten around her. She slowed her movements. “Beg,” She commanded.

“I’m going to cum,” you whispered into her shoulder, grasping fruitlessly at the fabric of her shirt, trying to pull her as close to you as possible.

“Are you?” She asked, slowing her pace.

“I… Kate please let me cum, I can’t hold on much longer I-“ another moan escaped you, and it took you a few breathes to compose yourself to some sort of semblance. “please”.

“That’s a good girl,” Kate praised, returning the circular motions to your clit. “Cum for me, sweetheart.”

That’s all you needed to hear to unwind for her. You clenched around her fingers, chills running from your core to every inch of your exposed body. A guttural noise of pleasure was silenced by Kate’s lips against yours, her throat silencing you as much as she could. Satisfaction rushed through you, aftershocks of her movements twitching through you. Kate withdrew herself from you, a self-assured smile on her lips as she moved them up to her lips and sucked them clean, never breaking eye contact with you.

“I need a drink,” You breathed out, words trembling. Your forehead pressed against hers, still panting, still recovering from her expert touch.

Kate scoffed, shaking her head “We don’t have anything fancier than a house white.”

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