#Detergent Strips

[a-a-a-anon]

this is so funny and disgusting to me (from berserker!). this sounds exactly like something rick/vyv or richie/eddie would do

because i love biographies here are more anecdotes about this Phenomenon. it kills me that they all remembered and independently commented on THIS part of the comic strip when according to alexei no one he asked could even remember what the first opening night was like. that stench was bad 😭

alexei sayle, thatcher stole my trousers:

All the core performers had instinctively begun wearing suits though throughout the following year none of us had thought to get these suits cleaned ever, so pretty soon they were all stiff and stinking with sweat. Rik and Ade had bought their outfits at a discount place called the Houndsditch Warehouse. They had been made in Communist Romania out of what looked like cheap purple carpet and cost £10 each which wasn’t a lot of money even back then.

jennifer saunders, bonkers:

All the boys are squashed into the other [dressing room], next door. We do go in and hang with them sometimes, but, to be honest, it stinks. They are always dripping with sweat when they come offstage, and the only facility to wash in is a sink which is always filled with bottles of beer. Their stage suits are hung up, wet with sweat, and left to dry out before being worn the next night. The funk of BO and fags is heavy in the air, spiced up with a whiff of old doner kebab, chips from the night before and the odd fart. It hums.

dawn french, dear fatty:

Our dressing room wasn't so bad, or if it was, it was masked by a heady top note of hairspray, perfume and deodorant. The boys’ room was a rank, acrid, humming place. They used to sweat a lot with nerves, then sweat more onstage, then take off their stage outfits, hang them up on the floor and never wash them. I think they thought it was unlucky to do so, or something. They might have been able to wash their armpits in the sink in their dressing room, if the sink hadn't been full of ice and lager cans.

[shegottosayit]

Asking the important questions this Friday night

[nyenyel]

Please donate to Eslam family!

“My name is Eslam from Gaza, I’m 29 years old, and I’m a children teacher from Khan Yunis in the Gaza Strip. a mother of two daughters, Hanaa 5 years old, and Alma, 10 months old. My husband Rasmi is the director of 3 language and training centers. In this war, our house was completely destroyed and razed to the ground, and my husband’s centers were blown up. He lost his job, and we were completely displaced, and we are now homeless and jobless, My two young daughters constantly suffer from diseases due to malnutrition and water pollution.

Danger and death surround us all day and all night. We have lost everything and depend on donations to survive and, most of all, to have any hope of escaping this genocide and evacuating to safety in Egypt. The cost of daily living continues to rise significantly in Gaza - imagine that we cannot find the type of milk for our daughter because of its high price. There is no kind of detergent and this is the cause of skin diseases for my two little girls. We bought a piece of soap for $30! ، and detergent is 100$"

As of 8:46pm November 11, 2024 (GMT+8) $31,955 raised out of $50,000

vetted: bees and watermelon spreadsheet #175

@eslamfa9 @eslamfa8

[sera-wasnever]

I'm really curious as to what made that one person telling people not to wash their chopping boards think that wooden chopping boards would taste of the soap you washed them with and that would get on your food who did this to them

I have a wooden chopping board that has been used for the better half of a century (thanks gran). it has been used and fastidiously scrubbed for most of that time almost definitely with soap (gran was a nurse who was paranoid about cleanliness). I have licked it (it was unused and dry). no taste of soap (sad). just wood (and some varnish/oil I think?)

[miss-floral-thief]

lol I wonder if borax powder is cheap at the dollar store

[gogonano]

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[rozanallidawi]

Hello guys

I am Rozan Ayman Fathi, 24 years old

I ask you to read these lines and help me so that I can save my family

Consisting of 7 individuals

I live with my beloved family in the Gaza Strip, specifically in Gaza City. When the war began, we were displaced from our dear home and dearest to my heart to tents in the city of Rafah (we do not know whether it is still standing or whether it was demolished by bombings and shelling). We were always moving from one shelter to another seeking shelter. For protection, and when Rafah was invaded, we were displaced and moved again to tents in Mawasi Khan Yunis. We were very tired, especially my mother, as she is sick with diabetes and gallstones.

Life in a tent is torment, pain, and oppression, a life without the minimum necessities of life, where there is no bedding, no flooring, sand surrounds you from all sides, no sanitary facilities, no water, whether for bathing or cleaning, and no drinking water. There are no detergents. Canned food is scarce and of poor quality

We miss fresh food,

Very high temperatures inside and outside the tent

The spread of dangerous infectious diseases, insects, toxic organisms, and other difficult matters of life, in addition to the danger of bombing and death that lurks around us every minute..

[olaadel-ouf]

Iam Ola Abu El-ouf, lam 34 years old🚨🚨🚨

A distress call from Gaza...a family searching for safety🙏🇵🇸

A family trapped in Gaza asks for help to survive 🍉🙏🇵🇸

I need to raise money to restore a beautiful and stable life outside the Gaza Strip. Everything I say leaves only a small amount of the suffering we experience. Here is a glimpse into the contrast between our lives before the aggression and the nightmare we have been experiencing since its beginning. Thank you for your support

About my family:

It consists of a mother, a father, two brothers, and a separate sister. She has two children. My mother and father, who are 66 years old. We were displaced from the city of Rafah after the occupation bombed our house without taking any clothes, furniture, gas, or cover. We were protected from the cold of winter, and we live in a tent in the worst conditions in terms of cooking over fire and pollution. Water, waste collection, and lack of detergents. A 36-year-old brother, a 21-year-old brother, and children are in need of the minimum necessities of life in light of the difficult circumstances and tragedy in which we live.

We urgently need support to ensure our lives and live in peace and security

An architect, I used to work in an engineering office in the Gaza reconstruction and I aspired to complete my master’s degree, but my work and studies were halted due to the war. I am divorced and have two children, Amir, 8 years old, and Maryam, 7 years old.

@nabulsi @aces-and-angels @ibtisam @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @vakarians-babe @7amaspayrollmanager @fairuzfakhira @fallahsart @sayruq @humanvoreture @kaapstadgirly @sar-soor @dimonds456-art @plomegranate @commissions4aid-international @nabulsi @stil-macher @soon-palestine @communitythings @palestinegenocide @vakarians-babe @ghost-and-a-half

[celestialprincesse]

Simon coming home to sleepy partner💤☁️

nsfw below the cut 🪽 mdni 🤍

Simon, more often than not, comes home late after getting back from deployments. seeing as after landing on home soil, they still have to mission debrief, collect and pack up their belongings and say their goodbyes, Simon is itching to get back home - back to you.

When he does, and you're all curled up in your shared bed, head resting on his pillow, one of his shirts clutched tight to your chest, sound asleep in his sweater, which had ridden up the arch of your spine to reveal thin cotton panties that have him straining at his boxers. It's when your eyes open at the sound of him dumping his bags, half lidded and lazy until you register his presence and spring up in the bed, running to meet him with tears of relief already pooling on your lower lashes. By no means does Simon Riley consider himself a needy man - in fact, quite the opposite, he's practised restraint his entire life. That said, after months away with nothing but his hand and some very private polaroids to sort himself out, he's desperate, already pushing you back until the backs of your knees are hitting the bedframe, collapsing underneath him with the thick comforter giving a whooshing exhale of air under the sudden addition of your bodyweight.

The latest deployment had been especially tough, stationed in some shithole with no cell service or access to a secure line. Soap had been fine, copping off with local women when he grew bored of his hand, Gaz had Simon fully convinced that he had some kind of erectile dysfunction with how long he could go with no contact, whilst Price and Simon had to settle with a few grainy photos of their partners and the thought that they'd soon be home.

Now, when he noses at your neck and smells sweet perfume and your laundry detergent, it feels very much like a wet dream coming true. He doesn't even bother to fully take your panties off before he's thumbing at your clit through the flimsy material, stripping himself of his gear with one hand. He quickly grows frustrated with the way his dick is straining at the fly of his pants, grunting as he pulls his hand away to strip his clothes off, whilst you take the opportunity to lose your panties, throwing them vaguely in the direction of the hamper , parting your legs and bending them at the knee, waiting for him with your bottom lip chewed anxiously between your teeth. He doesn't even bother kicking his clothes away, kneeling on where they're piled up at the side of the bed as he grabs your hips with hands that have forgotten to be gentle after being rough for so long, pulls you to the edge of the bed, hooking his forearms under your thighs and splaying his hands over your stomach as he noses at your clit. There's a feral, barely concealed glint in his eye as he whispers kisses against your cunt, murmuring how bad he missed you, about how you look more beautiful than when he left. "Missed y' so fuckin' much baby. Missed your angel face." He growls into your skin, the tears mixing in your eyes split between need and pure relief.

He doesn't even bother with his fingers as he licks a hot stripe between your folds, your hips twitching under his hands as he savours you like a last meal. "Si.." You whine out sweetly, voice whiny and utterly pathetic. "Tha's right. Tha's it, gonna let me hear ya?" His Mancunian accent, eroded around the edges from years of travel, and the rumble of his voice have you on edge, hands gripping into the sheets as you let your eyes fall back into your head swimming with utter bliss. "Mmhm!"

Not even a minute later, Simon looks utterly perplexed as you try and shimmy yourself away from his tongue, despite the way your thighs are clamped like a vice around his ears. "Wha's wrong baby?" He growls, messy brows furrowed in concern as he looks up at you in the near darkness of your bedroom. "Jus' need you, Si." You whine, body short circuiting as you consciously attempt to free his face from between your legs whilst the animal side of your brain compels you to keep him there and continue the ecstasy his tongue spearing into you provides. Your needy words cause his expression to perk up as he gently guides your knees outwards so he can actually remove his face from where it's stuffed between your thighs and cunt.

From your position on the bed, and his kneeling beside it, you'd been unable to see the way his cock was already hard and leaking, bouncing against his stomach, but as he pushes you back to the centre of the mattress, you got a full view of his pretty dick as he lines the pearly tip against your entrance, smearing precum against it as though to make the stretch easier (which is a total placebo). His fingers loop through yours as he notches his tip inside, refusing to blink as you take him to the hilt with a quiet whine, lashes fluttering against your cheeks as you fight the urge to squeeze your eyes shut. "Fuck, 've missed seein' you take me so well." the sound of his grunts and the lewd squelch which accompanies his thrusts is the only thing besides your airy moans and his soft growls filling your blissful bedroom.

The sight of you alone has him almost embarrassingly close to finishing inside of you, but when your pussy flutters around him and you give a choked off keen before cumming around his cock, he gives up on any restraint, snapping his hips so that his tip hits your cervix, ropes of hot cum spilling into your tight heat as he lets his head fall into the crook of your neck, repeating how perfect you are, how much he loves you and missed you.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅

Meant for this to be some cutie, fluffy little brainrot not 1k of smut Sorry! (not sorry!😚) also this isn't edited because rereading my own writing makes me cringe so apologies 4 any mistakes 🩷

[apocalypseornaw]

Please

Sam Winchester x Reader

Sam accidentally hurts you during sex which leads to you practically begging for some form of intimacy once you're healed up

Cursing, bruised cervix mention, sexual happenings

You knew Sam would already up and gone on a run so you didn't try to hide the little moan of pain that escaped you when you tried unsuccessfully to find a comfortable position to go back to sleep in. Your lower stomach and back was throbbing in pain and that's what had woke you up. Soreness you were used to, Sam wasn't exactly a small man in any use of the word but pain? You'd never felt like this after sex before.

You slowly pushed the blanket off and gasped from the sharp pain that went through you. You needed to take a hot shower and you'd be fine or that's what you told yourself.

By the time you got out of the shower and was dressed you determined something was wrong outside of soreness. Maybe a trip to the urgent care in town was in order?

------------

You could walk normal enough if you concentrated on it. You headed for the kitchen in search of coffee or Dean and luckily found both. The eldest Winchester smiled when you walked in but one look at your face and his smile dropped "Woah kid. What's wrong?"

You put a finger to your lips "Where's Sam?" You asked in a low voice. He shrugged "He went to grab a shower. Now what is wrong?" You lowered yourself down to sit at the table and smiled at him "Will you grab me a cup of coffee?" He nodded slowly "after you tell me why you look like you went three rounds with a werewolf" you groaned "Coffee first then I promise I will"

Dean grumbled but quickly made your coffee and sat it in front of you then stood there over you with his arms crossed "There's your coffee. Now talk"

You grimaced slightly before saying "I think Sam may have accidentally gotten a little too rough" "He hurt you?" Dean's voice took on a protective edge and you smiled despite yourself "Easy Dean. It wasn't something I didn't enjoy or ask for, repeatedly..it's just...christ...your brother is a big man...and I have a narrow...fuck do I really have to get into descriptive dialog here?"

He chuckled lightly before sitting down across from you "I think I get the picture. You think he bruised you?" You nodded before raising your eyes to meet his "Can you distract so I can go to the urgent care?" He looked towards the hall then back at you "No, I don't think I can"

You let your head drop before you heard Sam's voice "why do you need to go to the urgent care?" You begged Dean with your eyes but he just shrugged helplessly considering you all had went over each others injuries after the hunt it wasn't like you could even play it off as that. He tapped his temple "Migraine?" You choked out and Sam looked from you to Dean before saying "Then you don't need to drive yourself" "i can take her" Dean offered and you shot him a greatful smile.

"Thanks Dean but I can take my girlfriend to the doctor" Sam laughed. You never took your eyes off Dean who shrugged "She was my friend before she was your girlfriend besides don't you have some emails or something to catch up on? I can drop her off, go do a grocery run and pick her up" Sam's shoulders sank slightly before he leaned down to kiss the top of your head "If that's what you want to do baby. Just please call me"

"I will" you promised before standing up and placing a quick kiss to his lips. Dean got his attention while you left the room to go grab your purse.

Sam tried not to worry but when you didn't want him taking you to the urgent care then when you got home and brushed him off with barely a kiss and a "I'm gonna lay down in one of the extra rooms" he knew something was up. When he asked Dean about it, his brother shrugged and suggested washing the bedding in the room the two of you shared in the new lavender detergent you got because it helped migraines.

He walked into your shared room and started to strip the bed. Pillows were first then the blanket, flat sheet, he froze when he saw the blood on the fitted sheet. It wasn't time for your period, with your iud you rarely got one. The urgent care, the wanting to be away from him. Memories of the night before flashed through his head.

He'd gotten rougher than he'd ever had with you but God the noises you'd made, how your nails dug into his shoulders, the moan of his name as you begged him not to stop...

Had he hurt you? He balled up the sheets and took them to the washer, throwing them in went in search of Dean, choosing to confront his older brother before disturbing you.

-----------------

"I fucking hurt the woman I love and you helped her hide it from me?" He hadn't meant to be so blunt about the accusation but it was out in the air and too late to take back. The noise of Dean working under baby stopped before he slid out and looked up at Sam "She didn't want to tell you. I went off of what she wanted"

"How bad?" He asked as Dean sat up, wiping his hands on a rag. Dean shrugged "Doc said it was a mild case of a bruised cervix. Gave her some anti inflammatory meds and antibiotics just incase. Told her a heating pad will be her best friend for the next few days. Said back rubs would help if she'd let ya and gave her a pamphlet of positions for men with bigger builds as the good doc put it"

Sam sat down on the bumper of your car that was parked next to the impala in the garage "is she leaving me?" He dreaded the answer. "What? Of course not man. Shit happens. She loves you."

"I hurt her" "on accident. Believe me little brother if I thought other wise I'd wipe the floor with your ass but I know how you feel about her. Now do like I said, get the bedding clean and smelling good. I'll order her favorite takeout and unless something big pops up we'll stay home for a few days because you know she hates missing hunts. She's strong as hell"

"I never would've hurt her for anything Dean" Sam swore wiping a hand across his face. "I know that. So does she. Now enough of this chic flic crap. Get outta here. Go talk to your girl"

-----------

You were almost asleep when you heard a tentative knock at the door "Dean I'm fine" you hollered but the door cracked open and Sam's head appeared "Sorry, it's me baby" you tried to sit up, ignoring how your lower body strained but Sam was across the room helping you back down into a laying position "Lay down, please"

One look in his eyes told you that he knew. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you" you nearly whispered, dropping your gaze down to your hands. He laughed lightly "Why are you apologizing?"

Your eyes flew up to his face and your heart twisted seeing the emotions working through his eyes from anger to sadness to self loathing "I hurt you, I hurt you then you didn't feel like you could tell me" his voice was so light. "I didn't want to hurt you by telling you. Sam I love you and I know you'd never hurt me on purpose. We just got carried away and accidents happen"

He nodded, eyes now focused on his hands "Dean's going to get your favorite takeout. Is there anything I can do to make you more comfortable?" You smiled "Doc said backrubs would help with the pain" he nodded "I can do that" he helped you move to a position that didn't hurt then started to gently rub across your lower back, listening to your breathing to tell him where you needed him the most.

Once you were half asleep he heard Dean's voice so he stopped and looked towards the hall "I'll go grab your food" he helped you sit up and you reached for his hand in an attempt to pull him down into a kiss but he simply left a chaste peck on your cheek before leaving the room.

"I love you" you spoke after him and barely caught his response of "I love you too"

You were healed up, antibiotics had been taken fully and the anti inflammatory meds were no longer needed according to your follow up visit with the doc. You were good to go. The problem? The moment you moved back into your shared room with Sam it seemed like he moved out.

While you were still sore he'd rub your back, offer food or anything he could to help your comfort but once the healing period passed and your walking returned to normal and your movements were no longer strained you felt him pulling away further and further. When you got a clean bill of health at your follow up the doctor might as well have told you that you were radioactive.

---------------

You were in the gym of the bunker, greatful the guys had installed one. The heavy bag was currently your favorite thing in the world. You don't know if you were more embarrassed or angry over how Sam had reacted when Dean had offered to get a second motel room on the hunt the three of you had just come off of.

"Two rooms or.." "One's fine. Make sure there's a couch" Sam had cut Dean off before you could even attempt to open your mouth. You hadn't let it slip to Dean how much your relationship with Sam had changed but living in close quarters there's no way he hadn't picked up on it. He glanced in the rear view mirror and you nodded so he nodded back "ok then. One room. Double beds and a couch, coming right up"

You understood, Sam was afraid to hurt you again but it was starting to cross the line between feeling like he was afraid to hurt you to feeling like he just didn't want you. If you tried to kiss him he'd never let it get heated before having to do something else. If you asked him to go to sleep at the same time as you he all of a sudden needed to research something and the one thing he was in the room and you started to change in front of him he'd stuttered about an email from Garth and left.

"That thing piss you off or something?" You caught the bag before it could swing into you and glanced back at Dean who was standing in the doorway "Or something. What's up?" He shrugged "Sam left on a run. Figured I'd find you here" you sighed "Dean you know I love you but if you crack a joke I may throw a punch at you"

He smirked slightly before raising his hands "I promise I won't. Just wanted to check in on you" you nodded slowly "I'm good. All healed up" "Good to know but not what I meant" he replied and you felt your shoulders sag "He'll hardly kiss me Dean. I get the worry but if there's more than worry, if this has him rethinking us...I need to know" "I don't think that's it.."

"but he won't talk to me. I can't get him to barely look at me" you cut him off and he nodded "Want me to talk to him?" You scrunched up your nose "Thanks but no. I'll figure it out" "Ok. In the meantime take it easy on the heavy bag and if you need a sparring partner let me know" you grinned "Oh think you're up for it?" He laughed "Oh I'd give ya a try" before walking off. You spun back to the bag.

It was getting harder to stay away from you. Sam didn't know if the distance or the look in your eye when he turned you down broke his heart worse. He wanted you, God knows he wanted you with every fiber of his being. He loved you, he was in love with you. Of course he wanted to show you that love physically but the what ifs went through his mind every time he almost got close to you. The blood on the sheets. How painful just walking and simple tasks had been for you for a few days. He wasn't worth the pain. What if he hurt you again? What if it was worse?

He didn't know how to face losing you either. What was he supposed to do?

You were laying in bed with your back facing the door when you heard it creak open. You'd gone to bed an hour before so Sam probably assumed you were asleep. You felt the bed dip behind you as the blanket moved slightly. You could feel his warmth at your back, close but not touching.

You laid there for several breaths before saying "I miss you" after a moment his arm slipped around your waist pulling you back against his clothed chest "I'm here baby" you ran your fingers along his arm and practically quivered from the feeling of his lips teasing your neck with a gentle kiss "I miss all of you Sam"

-----------------

Your breath sharpened quickly as your hips curved back into his, neck arcing to give him better access "Sam please. I need you" the guilt for hurting you mixed with the guilt for neglecting you. He could do this. He felt his fingers shake slightly as his hands cupped your breasts "What do you need baby?" One of your hands came up to cover his before pulling it lower "Touch me. Please"

His fingers pushed the shorts you were wearing aside as his lips found yours. One finger slipped between your folds as his tongue slipped into your mouth, swallowing the moans that fell from you. When your back arched further into him he added a second finger and you gasped, feeling your orgasm building.

You pulled away from his lips in need of air and he moved to work at your neck, kissing and biting the sensitive flesh and he curled his fingers up. When he hit that spot deep inside of you, you reached back to grip his hair "Please don't stop" it was a broken moan but it felt so amazing. When his thumb found your clit that was what was needed to push you over that edge and when your orgasm hit you it was hard enough you melted into the pillow, shaking slightly.

Sam slipped his fingers out of you and when you came back to your senses he was smiling slightly "You ok?" You nodded "I'm perfect" he laughed and started to lean back but you pulled him to you, lips finding his in a demanding kiss that told him you wanted him, all of him.

He groaned into the kiss then his hands found your hips. This time when the two of you broke away from each other he smiled "I love you" you smiled "I love you" then slipped your hand under the sweats he was wearing. He hissed when your hand wrapped around his hard cock "Baby" he warned and you grinned innocently "What?" Before lazily dragging your fingers down his shaft. You could feel his hips tense with the urge to buck into your palm "What positions won't hurt you?" He asked and you turned a little further to be on your side, slipping your shorts off your legs "Easiest one for now"

He slipped his sweats and shirt off then slipped back behind you. You moaned lightly just feeling the head of his cock teasing at your pussy "Please tell me if anything hurts so I can stop" he whispered and you nodded. He reached his hand under your shirt to tease at your nipple as he slowly started to push into you.

Your head fell back against his chest so he used one hand to cup your chin where he could tilt your head back where he could see your face. "Fuck Sam" you whispered once he was completely inside of you. He stilled to let you adjust and caught your lips in a searing kiss "I love you" he whispered against your lips "I love you" you replied.

After a moment he gave a tentative roll of his hips and when a moan escaped your lips he chuckled and repeated the action. "Just like that" you gasped, reaching for his hand that was on your hip, gripping it with your own.

----------

You could feel your orgasm building and knew Sam had to be close but he was holding off on his own pleasure to make sure you were satisfied. His fingers found your clit, rubbing tight circles as his mouth moved to your neck, teeth working your pulse point. When your orgasm washed over you, you came hard enough your vision went soft around the edges. "Fuck Sam. Please tell me you're close" he nodded, pressing his head down between your shoulders "You feel so damn good baby, missed you so much. Fuck I love you" he buried himself inside of you with a final deep thrust and you felt when he came, coating inside of you.

---------------

You laid like that for a few minutes, both of trying to get your breathing back to normal. When he slowly pulled out you gasped lightly and you could see on his face he was worried so you laughed "Not hurt just normal after sex sounds" his face immediately softened and he pressed a kiss to your lips.

He helped you clean up and grabbed you a bottle of water before crawling back into bed with you. When he laid back down you curled up onto his chest then motioned to your body "See? Didn't break" he rolled his eyes but smiled "I just don't ever want to hurt you again" you smiled sleepily "I know and I love you for that. We just have to be careful. You're not a little man Sam Winchester" he grimaced "Should I apologize here or..?" You popped his chest playfully "Oh hush. Let's get some sleep"

[shatha-gaza1]

Please don’t skip 🍉🇵🇸

‏Hello, I’m Shatha, 22 years old, living with my family in Gaza, the worst war in human history 🍉🇵🇸

Please help me, a small donation from you $20-$25 will save my life and the life of my family 🥺🙏🏻

‏We were living happily in our home that was destroyed and burned with everything in it by the occupation, and now we live in its remains and we no longer have the simplest necessities of life as there are no walls to protect us from the harsh winter cold and there is no clean, healthy water and we suffer from all kinds of pollution that cause us many health problems that are difficult to treat in this war due to the scarcity of medicines and their frighteningly high prices, as well as the high prices of food, drink, detergents and basic materials for life, which makes us helpless in the face of this war, so much so that I cannot achieve my dreams and continue my education and study at university because of this war 💔.

‏I’m Zoe (Jamie) Graeme, from Corpus Christi Texas, and I’m hosting this GoFundMe to help Shaza Issam Albadrasawi and her family in the Gaza Strip. I met Shaza through a friend, and we’ve been in touch for a while now. I started this campaign in hopes of providing comfort to her and her family during this difficult time. Once the goal of this campaign is reached, I will be sending the funds to Shaza’s family via international wire transfer. The funds will be used to provide shelter and safety for her and her family. Thank you for reading, please do what you can to help

[ahhsannie]

Drunk & needy.

synopsis: san comes home drunk & needy.

Pairing: Drunk!San X Sober¡Fem reader

Genre: smut

Tags: smut, drunk san, consensual intimacy, needy san, cunilingus, dirty talk, some begging from san, missionary position, slight hair pulling, choking, praising, making out.

____________________________________________________________________

The day was the same as usual, you made san breakfast, cleaned the house, ran errands and had a bit of girl time at a Cafe. Although it was relatively calm, you were tired and ready to call it a night, deciding not to wait up for San since you figured he'd crash at his friends house. It's usually what he did whenever he went out to drink.

You put some fresh sheets on the bed, slipped into your night dress and got cozy in the blankets. Relishing in the warmth, the fresh smell of laundry detergent blessing your nose. As the night went on the sound of jingling keys could be heard outside of the front door. It clicked open and San in his drunken state had staggered in, red faced. He walked through the dark apartment and stopped at the bedroom door, the moonlight just slightly illuminated your figure, half covered by the blanket. Feeling a warmth in his cheeks and a tightness in his pants San dipped into the bed, making his way between your thighs, his fingers softly digging into the flesh.

You shifted in your sleep, your eyes eventually fluttering open, you lean over to turn on the lamp, rubbing your tired eyes in process. "San?"

"Baby."

You look down to find San nestled between your thighs, his face extremely flushed. There's an obvious tension, you could tell considering the fact that he wouldn't move. He kissed your inner thighs, trying very hard to hold himself back but not hard enough. "I wasn't expecting you to be back tonight." You say running your fingers through his hair "mm I missed you, i had to come back.." he admired the sight of your tired eyes, the way your nightgown clung to your figure.. he wanted you so bad. "Baby can I please taste you?" He asked, eyebrows furrowed in desperation.

"San..I'm tired."

He loosens his tie and completely climbs onto the bed, his weight pressed on your lower half. "Please baby, you don't understand I want you so bad right now, please? I promise you won't have to do anything, just...relax and I'll take care of it." His grip on your thighs tighten, and you felt your heart racing with the need to say yes.

"San you're really drunk, let me draw you a bath alright?" San shakes his head, lips curled to a pout. You were badly trying to resiste the temptation, tried to ignore the way his cheeks and ears held a shade of red, his lips naked and begging to be kissed, the exposed part of his chest void of the marks he made you give him awhile ago...the loose tie hanging from his neck.

Fuck it, you gave in.

"Alright San, but I'm still a bit tired, go easy on me."

Having won, San wasted no time, in seconds he slid your panties down and pressed your legs against your stomach. He spreads your folds and slides his tongue down the strip, his cock twitching in his pants. He started off patient bit grew eager as his tongue became became more sloppy and desperate. He sucked on your clit, and lapped up any of your juices. Your natural scent mixed in with the cologne He was wearing and the effects of the alcohol in his system had his head spinning. He wanted to be closer, wanted more.

He ate you out like a starved man, like he'd die if he stopped.

Your fingers found their way in his hair, tugging at the strands which only made him shift into overdrive "Ah fuck...shit" he breathed. Your back arched as two of his slender fingers pushed past your walls, stopping once they were Knuckle deep. "That's it baby, shh, don't be too loud it's late."

You tried to be quiet but then he started rubbing circles on your overstimulated clit while his two fingers dragged in and out of your hole.

"San, I'm close."

San doubled his efforts, sucking on your clit, his fingers digging into the skin of your inner thighs as he tried to push out your orgasm. He pulled you closer to his mouth, his strong hands holding you down. Your heart was pounding in your chest as that tight feeling in the pit of your stomach became stronger. Body shaking and your toes curling you came hard against San's mouth, your vision slightly going blurry as you tightly closed your mouth but still let the voice in your throat slip out.

“So pretty, just for me.”

You managed to catch your breath but San didn't seem finished in the slightest. He slips out of his pants, his cock finally free, slightly twitching each time a small gust of cold air passed over.

he leans forward, his hands softly grabbing both sides of your face, pulling you in for a kiss. His lips had a slight taste of alcohol, his body heat engulfing you whole. San couldn’t help but grind against your leg, looking for any sort of friction as his tongue sloppily took over your mouth. “Mm” he moaned, feeling dizzy.

Words were barely spoken, there was just action, a primal need, a hunger that needed to be satiated. He could no longer wait, he lined up his cock at your entrance, teasing and prodding before pushing in. It was wet, Warm and tight. “Fuck.” He was close already and hadn’t even started to move.

he waited a few seconds before he got a good grip on your legs and started thrusting, his movement almost a little fast as he couldn’t bare the thought of going slow. He was still drunk, still feeling the buzz, still feeling desperate.

“San please, not so hard.” “Im sorry baby.” He immediately slows down a little, his hand making their way up your stomach until it stopped at your throat. He wraps it around and squeezes just enough for you to still be able to breath. This immediately caused you to grip his cock, and he couldn’t help but let a confident smile show “so responsive.”

you let out a soft whimper which causes him to groan, his thrusts getting sloppier. “I’m so close, are you close baby?” His hand falls down to your clit as he rubs circles around it, your walls clenched harder around him and he only seemed to get louder. “Oh fuck.” “That’s it, just a little more, shit.” He pulls you closer, your legs wrapping around him, his nose flush against your neck as he inhaled your scent.

you get the overwhelming urge to mark him again, your lips sucking on as many empty spots as they could and as soon as you come, San follows suit spilling inside of you. He lets out a strained groan, dropping on you but careful not to use his full weight.

when he goes soft he pulls out gently and collapses beside you. Catching his breath.

the hangover was the last thing he was going to think of in the morning.

[sandwhitches]

*ೃ༄ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌 (𝐯𝐚𝐫. 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐤𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫)

✹ 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗰: drabbles of various hq characters as songs from charm by clairo

✹ 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲: fluff!!

✹ 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻𝘀: atsumu miya, osamu miya, rintaro suna, tooru oikawa, hajime iwaizumi & keiji akaashi

✹ 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: (under 16 dni) established relationship (all except suna’s), mentions of insecurity in osamu’s, smoking & drinking in akaashi’s, oikawa and iwaizumi’s may be slightly suggestive at some points but it’s a reach

✹ 𝗮/𝗻: if you’re like wow that lineup is so random it’s because these are all my most prized boyfriends i hope you can understand thanks. also been obsessed w charm lately erghghhh listening to the entire album is a part of my daily routine now!! songs are linked to the titles if u wanna give a listen while reading :) i highly recommend listening to the album if u haven’t already!! srry for any typos i missed!

𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 ✶ 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞

“and once you get in my ear, i see kismet sinking in, it’s second nature”

after all this time, you suppose that loving atsumu isn’t as complex as it seemed like it was before. you love him in the same fashion in which you breathe or blink, you’d forgotten how to function without it, it’s second nature. likewise, atsumu finds loving you to be the easiest thing in the world.

he knows you too well, it makes your heart flutter every time he does something, no matter how many times he’s done it before. every morning, you slip out of bed to find that your slippers are already waiting for you on the chilly wood of your bedroom floor, placed perfectly where your feet land when you roll out of bed. you’d almost forgotten it was sunday, and you would have had you not heard the sound of your husband in the kitchen doing a horrible job at being quiet.

you can picture it before you even see it, atsumu hunched over a skillet with sizzling bacon popping quietly to fill the early morning silence of your apartment. atsumu can never sleep in anymore, eternally used to the long hours he spends as an athlete, so he’s since taken it upon himself to try to be productive before you wake.

“mornin’” his voice is still raspy and warm, the afterthought of sleep apparent on his softened expression that he holds when looking at you. atsumu chuckles quietly under his breath when you press your face between his shoulder blades, snaking your arms around his waist. he still smells like the floral detergent of your bedsheets and the buttery sandalwood of his body wash.

“you’re burning the bacon, already.” you snicker into his shirt, earning a click of his tongue, “don’t ya’ like it crispy?” he counters playfully, using a fork to turn over one of the bubbling strips.

“yeah, i do, but,” you peak from around his back, pointing at the darkened bacon in the pan, “those are totally charred.”

atsumu scoffs teasingly, peering down at you, “they are not.” they really are about to be unsalvageable. you laugh dryly under your breath, using your hip to bump him out of the way of the stove, taking the bacon off the heat. atsumu puts up no fight, leaning on the counter to watch you grab a plate, eyes filled with a mushy lovesick glow. you should be used to this kind of unadulterated display of adoration, but it still makes your cheeks heat up like it did when you were in high school.

“i missed ya’,” he whispers softly, just loud enough for you to hear. you glance over your shoulder at him, smirking in confusion, “i didn’t go anywhere, did i?”

atsumu simply offers a content laugh, grabbing a piece of bacon from the plate, “i meant i missed ya while you were asleep.” he rolls his eyes as if it’s the most logical thing to assume in the world. you snort playfully, “weren’t you only awake for, like, 10 minutes before me?”

taking a (rather difficult) bite from the piece bacon, he nods, “exactly.”

𝐨𝐬𝐚𝐦𝐮 𝐦𝐢𝐲𝐚 ✶ 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐲 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞

“sexy to someone is all i really want.”

osamu peered into your hotel bathroom upon smelling the scent of your perfume, a usual indication he has since learned that meant you were nearly done getting ready. an expression of confusion contorts his face into a frown at the sight of your own unhappy grimace.

“what’s wrong?” he inquires softly, watching your eyes through your reflection in the mirror. you groan in bemusement, setting the perfume bottle down, “nothing’s cooperating with me today, look,” you ruffle your hair a bit, trying to place it the way in which it usually sits on your head.

apart from your hair, you feel like you might have rushed too much on your makeup, and when you look in the mirror, maybe your dress doesn’t go as well with your shoes as you thought it did when packing.

you and osamu were in tokyo tonight, getting ready to go down for a celebratory dinner for the grand opening of the new branch of onigiri miya. while the thought of seeing all of your friends in one place was exciting, your hasty attempt to get ready in time was beginning to dampen your mood.

“what are ya talkin’ about, darlin’?” osamu knit his brows, genuinely baffled by what you could be implying as he leans against the doorframe. you blow out a short breath of frustration, gesturing at the mirror, “i feel like i look like a mess.”

osamu’s lips part in disbelief, the corners twitching in annoyance, “are ya kiddin’?” he scoffs, leaning forward to place a big hand on your arm. you turn away from your reflection, looking up at him, surprised to see such a perplexed expression upon his face.

“yer ridiculous, ya know that?” he scoffs, already pulling you out of the bathroom, “i’m serious.” you whine in frustration with yourself, begrudgingly following him towards the door. osamu lets go of the soft hold he has on your arm, turning to face you; he bends over to level with you, shaking his head, “yer the most beautiful person i have ever seen in my life, ya know that?”

you go quiet, crossing your arms as he stands back up to open the door for you. osamu glances over his shoulder, a wry grin occupying his lips now as he shakes his head once more, “i seriously can’t believe ya, sometimes.”

you knew osamu better than to think there was any actual malice hidden behind his frustration with you. leave it to him to fix the unfixable. as you walk down the hotel hallway, the way he drapes an arm around your shoulder suddenly makes you consider that he might be right. the admiration in his eyes as he looks at you makes you feel like maybe you are the most beautiful person in the world.

𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐨 𝐬𝐮𝐧𝐚 ✶ 𝐠𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐧𝐨𝐰

“when i drive, i always check over the seat, i could see you right there, waiting for me”

it was much too late for this type of situation to be launched at you so suddenly, you knew that, but you still chose to unlock the door when you saw suna through your peephole.

you could tell he was drunk, his cheeks were bright red, hair mussed and eyes lidded with exhaustion. “what are you-” you hiss under your breath as he makes his effort to push into your apartment, experiencing no resistance from you as you let him stumble in. suna turns to face you upon hearing the door click shut, a lazy grin gracing his face.

“hi,” he snickers, readjusting his unstable stance. “hey.” you return, crossing your arms, “you know it’s late, right?” the clock on your phone reads 1:30, exactly two hours past when you should have been asleep. “i knooow.” he muses, walking over to collapse on your couch.

“are you just gonna sleep here?” you scoff incredulously, watching him roll over to look at you, grinning contentedly. “nah, came here to say something.” suna rasps, patting the cushion of the couch beside his head as if he owns the place.

against your better judgement, you choose to oblige, sitting down with a sigh as he makes an effort to sit up hunched beside you. “you know i’m not an idiot, right?” he starts, an unusual mixture of honesty and playfulness in his drunken tone. you crease your brows in confusion, “what are you talking about?”

“i know,” he nods, leaning back onto the couch, “i know what we’ve been doing this whole time.” you feel your heart begin to race, he can’t possibly be hinting at that, can he?

all the playful flirting, the lingering touches and longing glances around friends. they were meant to never be discussed, a secret so forbidden that even the two who kept it mustn’t acknowledge it. the practically invisible elephant in the room. suna was about to mess it all up, and you weren’t sure if your heart beat ten times faster with fear or excitement.

“what?” your mouth has long gone dry, words unsaid all dying on your tongue before they can even flow out to defend yourself. “i’m tired of it.” suna mumbles out, closing his eyes, then cracking one open to look at you, “aren’t you?”

he doesn’t wait for your response, though there wasn’t enough room for thought in your mind to formulate one, anyways. “i used to think i could ignore it, but i never realized how much i think about it until recently,” suna swallows, then turns to face you, head lolling against the couch, “am i wrong? it’s been like this the whole time, hasn’t it?”

you frown, “what do you mean?”

“you’ve liked me this whole time, haven’t you?” suna whispers, the tenderness of vulnerability making him sound so quiet, “because all i do is think about what things would be like if we stopped pretending like nothing was happening.”

there he goes, spoiling the quiet little mutual crush you two shared. something that started small enough not to notice, but grew until it boiled over, and one of you were bound to crack. it was suna who cracked first, albeit drunk, but you knew in the hushed whisper of his confession, that he meant every word of it.

“i-…” your words are lost to you, anything you thought to say no longer exists. suna reaches up a calloused hand, sloppily brushing a piece of hair from your face, “m’ really tired of missing you when you’re not around…wan’ you ‘round…all the time.” he’s beginning to slur his words, and you realize how drunk he actually is, his breaths slowing with the tightening grips of sleep.

as suna’s eyes flutter shut, you can’t help but wish he doesn’t forget about this when morning seeps in through your living room windows and wakes him up from a long, drunken slumber.

𝐭𝐨𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐨𝐢𝐤𝐚𝐰𝐚 ✶ 𝐣𝐮𝐧𝐚

“(you make me wanna) buy a new dress, (you make me wanna) slip off a new dress”

you can’t believe how different life feels when you completely give in to love. how have you gone so long without the addictive sensation of loving and being loved? with tooru around, the blandest situation becomes technicolor; the chirping of birds by your window in the morning is no longer annoying, the coffee shop seems to always make your order right, and you look prettier in the mirror than you ever have before.

tonight the moon did not bring the chill of seaside winds with her, instead, the warm kiss of a summer’s breeze drifted through the air. you and tooru had long forgotten about your walk back to the car after dinner and had ended up at the pier, salty sea air dancing through locks of hair and playing with the hem of the dress you’d bought specifically for this date.

a warm pair of hands come from behind you, fitting snug against your hips as oikawa tucks his chin into the crook of your neck, pressing a kiss behind your ear. “have i mentioned you look beautiful tonight?” he murmurs. before, you would’ve been so embarrassed at how easily he could make you blush, but now it doesn’t matter.

“i think you’ve mentioned it a couple of times.” you hum in response, leaning into his touch. oikawa snickers, watching waves lap against each other in a foamy dance. “could i mention it again?” he returns slyly and you giggle, “i’ll allow it.”

tooru leans forward, whispering into the shell of your ear, “you look beautiful tonight.” he seems all too pleased at the way your cheeks burn red, how easily you could be flustered if you let yourself be.

“how’d i get so lucky, hm?” he adds, nosing into your cheek, following the soft touch with a peppering of kisses along the side of your face. “tooru,” you whisper, voice shaky with the aftertaste of laughter, “hm?” he purrs into your skin.

you bring up a hand to place on the other side of his face, situating your head to return a chaste kiss to his cheek, “let’s head home, yeah?”

oikawa stands up straight again, brushing his fingers over to spot you’d kissed you suddenly. while he prides himself on his ability to make you flustered, sometimes he conveniently ignores the fact that you’ve always had the exact same effect in tenfold.

“i think that’s a great idea.” he muses, slipping a hand from your waist to link fingers with your own as you walk back up the pier. in the midst of your lovesick chatter, he interrupts you, “hey, my love?”

“yeah?” you mutter lightly in response.

“i forgot what direction we parked the car in.”

𝐡𝐚𝐣𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐢𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐦𝐢 ✶ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮

“i really hate to admit it, i put my pride on the line, ‘cause when i met you, i knew it, i’d thank you for your time.”

being like this was never easy for hajime, which is why he chose against this for so long. it was a tiring six-month battle of hallway encounters and awkward elevator rides before he finally admitted to himself that he was head over heels for the girl across the hallway from him.

loneliness seems so distant now, and he’s long chased it away in return for your sleeping figure beside him. iwaizumi can’t imagine what his life would be like nowadays if his pillows didn’t smell like you or his shoes didn’t fit so perfectly next to yours at the end of the day.

he can’t find it in himself to sleep tonight, and neither can you, a short moment of surprise exchanged as you roll over to find he’s already looking down at you. after a blink or two, the both of you felt grins of amusement tugging on either corners of your lips. hajime pulls you closer, wrapping his big arms around your torso, thumbing the small of your back.

“you’re my favorite, you know that?” he mumbles into your hair with a certain waggishness to his words. you huff out a short laugh, “favorite what?”

“just in general.” he returns, moving back slightly to look down at you with big eyes full of fondness, “i like you a lot more than anything else.”

giggling, you bring a hand up to cup the side of his face, feeling the setting of his jaw under your palm at the touch, “you’re not so bad yourself, either.”

hajime scoffs in amusement, rolling his eyes, “oh, thanks.”

the dark bedroom is filled with the mirth of quiet laughter, a moment that seems to last forever, a feeling that you wish to keep in your pocket and carry around. there’s nothing extraordinarily funny happening, and perhaps you’re only laughing in disbelief of the fact that this is real

living with hajime is like moving in with your best friend, there’s nothing about plain existence that’s entertaining, but with him everything is funnier than it’s ever been. you two never get enough sleep because you’re always up for hours, savoring each word, touching each other’s skin, feeding off the thrill of breathing each other’s air like the opportunity is only for one night.

hajime is glad that you made him a weak man. there’s nothing more in the world he could have ever wanted than this, and he’d be thanking you for sharing your time until the day he died.

𝐚𝐤𝐚𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐢 𝐤𝐞𝐢𝐣𝐢 ✶ 𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐢𝐧

“simple thing, i don’t need much to like, i find.”

saturday nights were never spent like they used to be back in college. you suppose that’s a part of growing up, becoming boring. but despite how plain the pattern of your life has become since you’ve started working and settling down, you never once considered wanting anything more.

akaashi’s cramming days worth of work into one night, lips stained with red wine as he types with precision onto the clacking keyboard of his laptop. you’re on the other side of the couch, legs bent up to support your own laptop that you draft an email on. you let out a pained groan at a sudden ache that tears through your thigh, setting the laptop onto the coffee table to stretch out the tight muscle.

keiji pauses, looking up at you. his glasses were almost askew, sliding down his nose. a cigarette hung loosely from his lips, a collegiate habit that sometimes still haunts the both of you, especially on nights like these. “is your leg cramping?” he inquires, setting his laptop on the cushion beside him. you nod, kneading at the skin.

a soft breath of surprise sucks in through your lips when a pair dexterous hands replace your own, pushing between the muscles with precision. you look up to find akaashi’s focused expression, what was left of his cigarette burning out on the ashtray placed haphazardly on the couch’s arm.

sudden relief washes across your body as his index finger pushes into the right spot, a low sigh leaking from your lips. akaashi glances back up, a rare smirk making its appearance, “better?” you nod in response.

akaashi looks at his watch, then up at you, “it’s kinda late, huh?” he notes, leaning over to shut his laptop. “it was kinda late two hours ago, it’s really late now.” you return, stretching your sore back out. once again, akaashi’s hands return to your body, kneading at the tired muscles without a second thought.

a soft kiss is pressed to the tender back of your neck, it smells like red wine and cigarettes, you longed to turn around and taste his lips, but restrained yourself. “you tired?” he asks, already knowing the answer.

“i just…i really need to finish this project by monday, i’m worried that-“ keiji silences you with another kiss, this time to your cheek, “you won’t get anything done if you’re tired, why don’t you work on it tomorrow?”

you think about arguing, but you ultimately know that he’s right. your shoulders relax and you let your body weight rest up against his chest, savoring the rise and fall of his ribs with every breath he takes.

tonight was simple, perhaps a bit stressful, but that was the typical night with keiji nowadays. you couldn’t ever find yourself growing restless with this, however, and moments like these made you feel like no matter how unremarkable nights like these are, you love them more than anything. you love keiji more than anything.

[machveil]

Simon “Creature of Habit” Riley who knows your routine, has it down to a science. even if you don’t realize you do things consistently Simon’s clocked it. he knows where you like to order out from, which restaurant has ‘the better fries’ and which one has ‘the better chicken strips’. he’s got your favorite orders written down under your contact information. he knows how you like your coffee or tea, and he knows he should bring you a cup of water because you haven’t had any today

Simon “Creature of Habit” Riley who knows which sweaters and hoodies you like to lounge in when you’re cold, most of them are his, and he knows which detergent you use - always buys a new one before the current runs out. he knows how like things folded and organized, remembers where each article goes. if you have anything that you wear regularly he makes sure it’s washed and ready to go again

Simon “Creature of Habit” Riley who knows when you’ll be watching something - be it a movie or show. he’ll grab your favorite drink and an armful of snacks, sets them down with you while you pick something out to watch. when it’s late into the evening, night settling in the sky, he knows you’ll be cuddled up with him, eyelids droopy with sleep. a creature of habit, he’ll scoop you up and carry you to bed. the usual, how the mattress dips beneath him as he settles next to you

Simon “Creature of Habit” Riley who knows you need regularly scheduled kisses and does his best to make his rounds

[munson-blurbs]

Living After Midnight (Failed Rockstar!Eddie x Motel Worker!Reader)

♫ Summary: Having a secret relationship wasn't as easy as you'd hoped it would be, especially when Eddie wasn't keen on keeping it a secret at all. (7.1k words)

♫ CW: slowburn, strangers-to-lovers, angst, anxiety, parental conflict, poverty, Reader wears a sun dress, making out, heavy petting, public displays of affection, sexual fantasies, idiots in love, eventual smut (18+ only, minors DNI)

A/N: had to include Eddie's favorite fruit in here. Shoutout to @eddiemunsonsmum for writing the best solo Eddie fics out there.

♫ Divider credit to @hellfire--cult

chapter twelve: breath of fresh air

May teetered on the edge of June, the steadily climbing temperatures and the pungent odor of garbage signaling the beginning of another New York City summer. 

You awoke just after noon, sunlight pouring through the windows. Whispers of a headache nagged in your skull; not quite a hangover, but scarily close to one. Another drink definitely would have put you over. 

With a tired grimace, you shoved the covers aside and started your day. A day just like any other, except that you were still reeling from the fact that Eddie kissed you last night. That precious moment of connection was bested only by the sound of your name murmured from his lips onto yours.

The memory put a smile on your face as you dressed in your standard shorts and t-shirt. You wanted to kiss him over and over, to run your fingers through his mess of curls and hold him close, not parting until you both needed a breath. 

You could still taste the stain of nicotine when you swiped your tongue over your lips. Could still hear his breathy moan in your ear like a harmony. Could still feel his belt buckle pressed to your skin, the metal cold yet somehow filling you with a blazing heat.

Stripping the linens off of the bed, you lost yourself in thoughts of how it would feel to have Eddie laying beside you, his body pressing yours into the mattress, hands framing your body as he sank deeper into you—

You needed fresh air. Immediately. 

You tucked the pale pink sheets under your arm, time-faded from their original rosy hue to a salmon color, and zigzagged to the recently vacated rooms. The change of scenery did nothing to quell the desire stirring within you. Your mind was wrought with images of Eddie trailing his lips down your throat, or his teeth nipping at your collarbone, or his fingers slipping into your underwear—

“Stop it,” you hissed under your breath. The next stop was Eddie’s room, and you’d be damned if he had any inkling of the feelings you were harboring. 

His door swung open before you could even knock, halting you in your tracks. “Heard your footsteps down the hall,” he admitted, sheepishness coloring his cheeks pink. 

You only nodded as you caught your breath and your heart floated down from your throat into your chest. Thank God he couldn’t read your thoughts. “Got your pants?”

“Right here.” He held them up, balled in his fist. “Lead the way.”

“I can, um,” you searched for your words, still scrambled from your earlier musings. “I can wash them myself.” You were already throwing in the rest of the laundry; a pair of jeans wouldn’t make much of a difference.

Eddie shook his head, curls bouncing from his temples. “Nah, ‘s cool.” He plucked the bundle of linens from you. “Hasn’t been a lot to fix around here lately, so I might as well do some housekeeping.”

You threw him a playful grin as you led him to the laundry room. “No moochers allowed in my motel, y’know.”

The overhead lighting bathed him in a yellowish haze, matching the once-white walls. Maybe that could be his next project. 

“Exactly.” Eddie opened up a few cabinets, frowning when he couldn’t find what he’d been searching for. “Detergent?”

You pointed towards the cabinet below the sink. “Over there.”

Eddie saluted and stooped down to tug the economy-sized detergent tub from its spot. You couldn’t stop yourself from staring when his boxers peeked out from beneath the waistband of his jeans. Those damn Calvin Kleins; they would be your kryptonite.

“Heiress?”

Shit. He’d been talking to you, and all you could focus on was his underwear. “Yeah?”

“Do you have that stuff that makes the clothes smell really good?” He scooped out the detergent powder and sprinkled it in the washing machine. 

You laughed. “Sorry, no daisy-fresh pants for you.” 

The ensuing beat of silence seemed to stretch on for hours. Words bubbled on your tongue, desperate to continue talking to him. To discreetly sneak glances of the veins that intercepted his arm tattoos or of the sparse hair that adorned where his V-neck undershirt left his chest exposed. 

“Do anything fun today?” Christ, were you talking to a toddler? Should you offer him a sticker or a lollipop?

But Eddie perked up at the question. “Yeah, actually. I called my uncle for the first time in…” he scrunched up his mouth in contemplation. “Too damn long.” 

“How did that go?”

He set the dial to “start,” the washing machine humming to life. “Pretty good.” He hoisted himself on top of the adjacent dryer. “Same old Wayne. The world might change, but he never will.” Eddie’s eyes met yours. “When I started making money, I offered to buy him a house. Get him out of the trailer park and into a safer neighborhood. And he refused.”

Your brows raised. “He did?”

Eddie nodded, chuckling at the memory. “Said that if he left, there wouldn’t be anyone to feed the stray dogs.” He cocked his head, concentrating on your face. “You two would get along well. Similar personalities.”

“Thoughtful?”

“Yes, but to the point of stubbornness.” 

You opened your mouth to protest, but Eddie cut you off. “Don’t even argue with me, Miss Social Worker by Day, Heiress by Night.” His feet swayed back and forth, tapping against the metal every so often. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the box of crayons that you keep in the desk for kids like Izzy.”

He might have had a point, but if you were going down, you’d go down swinging. “If I recall, one of us chose to sleep at a bus stop instead of accepting my gracious offer.”

“But I took you up on it eventually.”

“Only because I practically forced you,” you argued. 

“Exactly.” Eddie grinned. “Thoughtful to the point of stubbornness.” 

A stillness filled the small room, and you wondered if he had the same agenda as you: keep the conversation flowing without bringing up the date. Without bringing up the kiss; the one that seared through you and set your bones aflame. That kiss sent you to bed aching for more, mentally mapping out any way you could sneak into his room without your parents noticing. 

Eddie broke the silence. “I meant to ask…did you have a good time last night?” He scratched at the nape of his neck, the gesture betraying any air of casualness. 

“Yeah.” You smiled, trying to ignore the fluttering in your abdomen. Your skin warmed at the memory of his touch. “I mean, I got to hear you sing, and I reunited our drunk friend with her boyfriend. I don’t see how it could get better than that.” 

He laughed at that and ducked his head. “Those were the highlights?” His eyes met yours; that knowing gaze seared through you and sent your nerves humming. “Nothing else?”

“There was…another highlight.” Longing anchored the words deep in your throat, but you forced them up. You let them seep in, placing the ball squarely in his court. 

“Yeah?”

Eddie inched back onto the dryer, the shift opening a gap between his legs. A space for you to fill. Your feet carried you as though they had a mind of their own, your body slotting against his. 

“Tell me about this other highlight.” One hand reached out to yours and tugged you closer; he laid the other on your cheek. His thumb slowly swiped over your jaw as though he was memorizing its contour. 

“Well,” you started, letting your fingers rest on his denim-clad thighs, “I really liked when we kissed.”

Eddie’s eyes lit up when you supplied the answer he’d been hoping for. “That makes two of us.” He let his forefinger trail down to your collarbone, the slight movement saturated with equal parts awe and desire. “I think we should do it again sometime.”

You nodded, your voice barely a whisper as you asked, “when?”

“Right…” He grinned, and before you could double-check that you’d closed the door, his lips crashed into yours. You felt his tongue cautiously prod at the seam, seeking entry, and you allowed it. The scents of cigarettes and spearmint gum accompanied his tongue in a way that was so uniquely him. 

Eddie only broke the kiss to bring his lips to your neck. He was gentle at first, peppering delicate kisses down the column of your throat, but he lost all control the moment you tilted your head and gave him clear access to your pulse point. 

The hand on your cheek fell to your waist and pulled you close enough to feel Eddie’s heartbeat against your own chest. “This your favorite spot to be kissed?” He murmured into your skin. You felt him smile when you nodded in response. “Where else do you want me to kiss you?”

Was ‘everywhere’ a valid response? A soft sigh loosened itself and escaped you at the feeling of his teeth grazing your flesh. “Just my neck. For now,” you added, “but I like when…when you bite it, too.”

“I can do that.” Eddie’s voice rasped. He bit down again, swiping his tongue over the mark to soothe your bruising skin.

You gripped his t-shirt, resisting every urge to pull it up over his head. It wouldn’t be the first time you saw him bare-chested; that honor had been bestowed upon you the night he arrived. But now you could kiss it, trace the lines of his tattoos with your finger, with your tongue…

You needed it. You needed to memorize him, to learn every square inch of his body.

His shirt hit the ground and your lips immediately found his shoulders. Eddie’s arms snaked around you, keeping you in place as your tongue explored the contoured muscle. 

“More,” he pleaded. “Fuck, keep kissing me there.”

Heat blossomed in your core. Your lips traveled, placing some marks of your own just below his collarbone, where they could be easily hidden. His skin was already tinged bluish-purple where you’d sucked and nibbled, proof that you had been there.

Eddie had pushed your own shirt right below your bra when the washing machine rattled, a stark reminder of where you were. Your chest and his rose and fell in syncopated beats. He loosened his grasp, letting your shirt fall back down your torso.

“Christ.” He chuckled, a low growl in his laughter. “I’m gonna need a second. You…Christ, Heiress.” 

Your eyes traveled to where he instinctively palmed the bulge straining against his jeans. You wanted to be the one to touch it, to relieve him of his pent-up frustrations. Maybe you’d even get some relief of your own. But your gradually slowing heart rate informed you that the moment had passed. 

“I, um…I didn’t just follow you in here to maul you like some horndog.” Eddie hopped off of the washer. He swiped his shirt from the floor and slid it over his head, once again cloaking his tattoos. 

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“Hey.” Eddie bumped his elbow against your arm. His smile was uncharacteristically shy, which only made him more endearing. “My other reason for following you in here was because I wanted to see if you were free sometime this week.”

His hand brushed against yours. You let your fingers intertwine with his, soft and gentle in their touch. Your thumb grazed over one of the paler spots where he must’ve worn a ring. The coloring was beginning to match the rest of his finger as though the memory of the rings was fading away with time. 

“Yeah. I mean, I’m around during the day.”

Eddie hooked his free pointer finger through your belt loop. “Cool.” He cocked his head. “Do people really have romantic picnics in Central Park? Or is that just in the movies?”

You laughed, leaning in and lightly kissing his jaw. Everything about him was so tempting. If there was a way to sneak him into your room without either of your parents noticing, you’d do it in a heartbeat. 

“They do, but…” You shrugged. “Central Park is super overrated. In my opinion, anyway.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.” Another kiss, right below his ear this time. You could feel his body tense with each lingering touch. “Flushing Meadows is the superior park. Less crowded, shorter travel time, and you don’t have to worry about running into any Upper East Side snobs.”

Eddie tilted your chin so that you felt his lips on yours when he spoke. “Fuck those rich assholes.” The words were muffled and ended with him nipping at your lower lip; the slight pinch of pain from his teeth were sparks that set you alight. 

Your hands framed his face as you kissed him, his grasp tight on your lower back. A wanting groan vibrated in his throat when he felt your body against his. 

“Heiress.” Your nickname was molasses on his tongue, sweet and slow and syrupy. “Y’gotta let me take you on at least one more date before we do this. I’m tryna be a goddamn gentleman.”

He was right, even if his body seemed to protest. You needed to stop before you caused him physical pain. Needed to stop before you lost all semblance of control. Your first time with Eddie didn’t have to be caviar and champagne—and it likely would not be, given how broke you both were—but the occasion deserved to happen somewhere more private and more comfortable than the motel’s laundry room. 

Eddie breathed out consciously, trying to collect himself. “Does Thursday work for you?”

You blinked, batting away the fogginess left behind by his touch. “Thursday would be perfect.”

“Perfect,” Eddie echoed. A cautious, nervous smile curved his lips. He paused for a half-second before leaning in once more and pressing a kiss to your cheek. Its gentleness scorched your skin, flames licking in its wake.

The kiss rooted you to the ground for a second too long, and Eddie was already turning the doorknob before you could listen for any incoming foot traffic.

“Wait, we–”

His eyes widened when the opened door revealed Phyllis heading back to her room. “Didn’t realize laundry was a two person job,” she quipped, revealing a smile of cigarette-stained teeth. “Although…it takes two people to get the sheets dirty…”

“That’s not–we weren’t–” you sputtered helplessly, knowing that there was nothing you could say that would make the situation any better.

“Well, it’s either you two were messing around in there, or he stuck his finger in an electrical socket.” Phyllis gestured to Eddie’s hair, mussed and sticking up from where you’d thread your fingers through it. 

Eddie choked out a laugh, red creeping up his neck and coloring his cheeks. Even the tips of his ears turned a delicious shade of pink. “The washer was making a, um, a noise. But it’s fixed now.”

Phyllis’s forehead creased as her brows raised, not believing a word he said. “The noises I heard didn’t sound like machinery. They sounded more like—”

“Phyllis,” you hissed, hoping your embarrassment wasn’t overly palpable. 

The older woman took your hint and pivoted towards her room, seemingly satisfied with the buttons she’d already pushed. Though she likely hadn’t done it purposely, her comment about the noises served as a warning: If she heard them, your parents could have, too. 

You needed to be more careful. In order for this burgeoning relationship to have a chance at survival, you needed to keep it a secret. Phyllis knew, but her worst offense would be quiet ribbings. Not everyone would remain so tight-lipped. 

“Thursday…let’s meet at the bus stop.” There was the chance of someone seeing you together there, but at least it was less suspicious than Eddie knocking on your door. 

Confusion rippled across Eddie’s face for a beat before he composed himself. “Yeah. Sounds good.” 

Good. A definite few steps down from his earlier declaration of perfect. Your heart sank, joining the lead ball of anxiety currently sitting in your stomach. 

He’ll understand, you told yourself. He knew how it felt to have all sorts of external pressure pushing down on him; a weight too great to fight. It would all be fine. 

Yet you couldn’t convince yourself that that was the truth, nor could you bring yourself to look back at him as you rushed to the front desk. You were suddenly eager for a chore or two to keep your thoughts at bay. 

Amy’s Café was quieter than its usual bustling pace during the semester, and you easily snagged a table for three. It seemed like a blessing at the time, but now…

“Hold on,” Nora said through a bite of croissant. She held up her forefinger, signaling you and Ben to stay quiet until she finished chewing. “So you and Eddie were making out in the laundry room—”

“Don’t forget the part where she took off his shirt,” Ben added. 

Nora nodded, brushing crumbs off of her hands. “Basically feeling each other up. And then Phyllis caught you, and he pretended that he was fixing the washing machine?” She laughed incredulously.

Ben put down his mug and shook his head. “It’s a good thing you didn’t get carried away. Imagine conceiving your child in the motel laundry room, ten feet away from your parents at the resident prostitute.”

“Oh, my god.” You buried your face in your hands. “We’ve gone on one date and you’re already talking about me having his baby?”

“People have made babies without going on any dates,” Ben pointed out. Nora just snickered. 

“I hate you both.” You glanced between the two of them. It was hard to believe they’d met for the first time today. The way they effortlessly teased you in tandem was impressive for people who were basically strangers. “Can we please change the subject?”

Nora leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Not a chance. In fact,” she looked at Ben and then back to you, “we need to know more. Like, what are you wearing for this second date?”

You shrugged, trying to play it off as nonchalant, though you’d been wondering the same thing. “I dunno. It’s a picnic, so nothing fancy, I guess.” 

Your friends found that answer insufficient, both of them rolling their eyes in tandem. Ben took a bite of blueberry muffin and said nothing, but Nora plunged right ahead.

“Why do you always do this?”

“Do what?”

Nora sighed. “You never let yourself enjoy things. You should be happy about this. A hot guy is staying at your motel and can’t keep his hands off of you, and you’re all Mopey Magee about it.”

“I’m not Mopey Magee,” you mumbled, but she was right. Every time excitement began bubbling up, you shoved it back down. Every time your mind wandered, dipping into thoughts about a cozy future spent with Eddie, you yanked yourself back. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to be happy; you just needed to stay realistic. Eddie wanted to be a rockstar, always on the go and living on the edge. You wanted to be a social worker, to come home and curl up with a good book. You’d be tucking yourself into bed as Eddie’s night was just beginning, and you’d wake up in the morning just as he was going to sleep. 

Not to mention the women, especially Death Echo’s badass drummer. And it didn’t help that she was Eddie’s ex. No matter how far you let your imagination stretch, you would never be her.

“Hey.” Ben rested his hand on yours, his eyes kind and free of judgment. “We just want you to be excited. Eddie seems like a…decent guy.” Clearly, he wasn’t fully convinced after the fiasco of their first meeting, though he’d thawed out a bit since Eddie helped clean the vandalism.

Nora nudged him from her seat. “He’s more than decent. He took a cab all the way to school to bring her paper. He sang a lovey-dovey karaoke song for her. And he had enough respect to not completely maul her in the laundry room.” She looked at you and asked pointedly, “Tell us the truth: would you have fucked him if he didn’t stop you?”

“Nora!” Your entire body flooded with heat. It was all the confirmation Nora needed. 

“See? He’s a good guy,” she declared. Case closed. “I bet he wants to, like, decorate the bed with rose petals and all of that corny shit.”

“He’ll probably play his guitar and serenade you.” Ben relented with a smirk. “Naked.”

You stood up, the back of your legs pushing your chair behind you. “Okay, thank you both very much for your insight, but I’m gonna go.” 

You refused to admit that you were currently picturing Eddie as Ben had portrayed him. His guitar would rest on his bare thighs, his chest on full display. That beautiful body that drew your lips to each inch of skin, no matter if tattooed or unmarked. 

“You know you love us,” Nora trilled. 

And you did. They only wanted what was best for you. Yes, you would love to lose yourself in daydreams of Eddie Munson, his strong arms wrapped around you, his tongue hungrily exploring your body. Yes, your stomach fluttered each time he smiled at you, called you beautiful, or took your hand in his. But was that worth lying to your parents about yet another part of your life?

The question branded you with a headache, one that sat right behind your eyes and thudded against your skull with each step back home. You did everything you could to focus on the pain instead of its cause.

By now, you were well-acquainted with Eddie’s schedule, which meant you were able to meet him outside the subway station before he returned to the motel. You’d had a moment of panic that morning just as you drifted off to sleep: your parents would immediately be suspicious if they saw the two of you leaving together, especially in your current outfit. Nora had dropped off a floral sundress, the tag still on it, and quietly proclaimed that Eddie wouldn’t be able to keep his hands off of you in it. It wasn’t until later that you noticed the back of the tag where she’d scrawled ‘happy boning!’ in tiny letters.

There certainly wouldn’t be any boning; not in the middle of the park. That was too far out of your comfortable zone, even if you weren’t trying to hide your relationship.

“I’m hanging out with Nora,” you told Dad before he even looked up from reading the newspaper. “Be back later.”

Your sandals thwacked against the pavement as you hurried out the door, not even pausing to hear if Dad had responded.

You nearly collided with Eddie halfway down the block. He held his guitar case in one hand and a plastic grocery bag in the other. His focused expression shifted to one of excitement when he saw you. 

“Didn’t expect to bump into you here.” He lifted the guitar slightly. “Let me just put this back in my room so I’m not lugging it all over Queens.”

Eddie started back towards the motel, pausing when he realized you weren’t following him. 

“You comin’?”

You shook your head. Dad might not have noticed you leaving in your new dress, but he would definitely notice you going back and forth with Eddie Munson in tow. 

“I’ll wait right here.” You tried peeking into the bag as he walked away, but he tugged it back and out of your sight. “What’s in there?”

His eyes lit up. “Patience is a virtue, dear Heiress,” he drawled. He leaned in to plant a dramatic kiss on your forehead before rushing towards the motel’s front door. 

The spot where he’d laid his lips still tingled for a moment after he left. If you could work up the nerve, if your head and your heart could cooperate, you would pull him in for the longest kiss of his life. But doubt creeped in before even he returned. If someone saw you…if Mom or Dad took a look around the door to see where Eddie was going…if a guest got an eyeful and made a comment about it to them…

“Okay, I’m back.” Eddie grinned, grabbing your hand with his empty one. “Your dad tried to pull me into a conversation about the Mets. I had to break the devastating news that I’m not a sports guy.” He laughed and adjusted his hand to better grasp yours. 

You barely registered the movement. “Did you tell him where you—we—were going?” If Eddie told Dad about the date…

Eddie shook his head. “Nah, just said I had to run.” His nose wrinkled in confusion. “Why? Are we not supposed to be going to the park or something?”

How could you explain it to him without hurting his feelings? ‘We can’t be seen together’ might be true, but far too harsh. Nor did you want to embroil yourself in another lie. You mulled over your words for a few seconds before speaking. 

“I just don’t want them asking a bunch of questions that even we don’t know the answers to.”

That was honest enough, you supposed. This was only your second date; far too early for any serious ‘what are your intentions with my daughter?’ speeches even under normal circumstances. The fact that Mom had explicitly warned you against dating guests would remain omitted for now.

He nodded in agreement, and your chest sagged with relief that he didn’t push the topic further. Instead, you enveloped yourself in the temporary safety that came with holding Eddie’s hand. The way his calloused palm pressed to yours, his grip tight yet without unwarranted possessiveness. Each brush of his thumb stoked the fire steadily building within you.

You once again tried to steal a glimpse of the surprise inside the bag once you found seats on the bus, but Eddie remained steadfast in his decision to keep it out of your view.

“It’s a surprise,” he practically whined, pouting to make you laugh. “C’mon, I’m trying to be romantic on a budget. Cut me a break here.”

“Fine.” But the moment he let his guard down, you swiped at the bag. Eddie was stealthier than you gave him credit for, and he held it shut between his legs. “Eddie!”

Eddie placed his hands on your cheeks, trapping you in place. “Don’t…ruin…the…surprise.” He kissed you between each word, little pecks on the lips that became increasingly more difficult to land as you both smiled. “You really are impossible.”

You begrudgingly relented, resting your head on his shoulder for the remainder of the bus ride. He shifted his stance every so often to purse his lips and kiss your forehead. You let out a contented sigh, the tension in your body fleeing with each gentle touch.

Flushing Meadows Park was relatively quiet when you and Eddie arrive. Kids were still in school until the end of the month, and nine-to-fivers were still at work. Besides you two, there were only an assortment of joggers, a few bird-watching retirees, and some particularly rowdy squirrels 

Eddie led you to a shaded spot beneath the branches of an old oak tree. He dug into his bag and pulled out a cloth, spreading it out on the overgrown grass. The fabric and color looked awfully familiar. It was almost as if…

“Is that your bedsheet?”

Eddie grinned sheepishly. “I couldn’t let you sit right on the grass. Besides,” he added, tone heavy with mischief, “it gives us another excuse to do laundry together.”

“We’re lucky we didn’t get caught the first time,” you muttered. But you couldn’t deny how good it felt to be pressed up against him, to feel him stiffen beneath his jeans as his tongue explored your mouth. 

He laughed as you both sat down, a melody if you’d ever heard one. He continued unpacking, placing foil-wrapped sandwiches, a small plastic container of pre-cut melon, and a bag of store-brand chocolate chip cookies onto the sheet. The last thing he dug out was two glass bottles of Yoo-Hoo chocolate milk, handing it directly to you. It was still relatively cold, a miracle in the early summer humidity. 

“Only the finest cuisine for my date.” He unscrewed the bottle cap and waited for you to do the same. He raised the bottle, clinking it against yours. “Cheers.”

“Cheers,” you echoed, taking a swig. You hadn’t had chocolate milk since you were a kid, and it was all at once nostalgic and too sugary, but you couldn’t get enough.

Eddie’s eyes rake over you, pupils fixated on the neckline of your sundress. His tongue darted out to lick up a droplet of milk that was caught in the corner of his mouth. “You look beautiful. You are beautiful,” he amended. One hand found your knee, and he rested it where the dress’s cotton fabric met your skin.

It had been a while since a man had called you beautiful, save for the cat-callers who pressed their luck from where they leaned against buildings and worked at construction sites. The compliment sent warmth surging through you, your head so airy that you hardly register the smile blooming on your face.

How would he react if you just leaned in and kissed him, mouths crashing together in a hunger that would remain forever unsatisfied? What would he do if you straddled his waist and let the hem of your dress cover the fly of his jeans?

You swallowed the thought, tempering the heat that fluttered in your core as you unwrapped one of the sandwiches. The cheese had cooled but was still melted, and a few strips of bacon peeked out from the sides of the roll. Your mouth watered just looking at it.

Eddie tucked into his own identical sandwich, a groan tumbling from his lips as he savored the taste. “I will never understand how those tiny corner stores make the best food. Like, better than all of those fancy-ass restaurants I went to for dinners with execs.”

“Those ‘corner stores’ are called ‘bodegas,’” you corrected through a cheesy mouthful. “If you’re gonna stick around, you’ve gotta start talking like a New Yorker.”

“Oh, yeah?” Eddie raised his brows, one corner of his mouth turning up in a knowing grin. “I gotta start tawk-ing like a New Yawk-er?”

“I don’t sound like that!”

He ignored you, continuing to massacre the stereotypical New York City accent. “Maybe on our next date, we can grab some caw-fee and go for a waw-k around the pah-k.”

“First of all, you pronounced ‘park’ like a Bostonian, which is a cardinal sin around here. Second, there won’t be another date if you keep making fun of me.”

“My apologies, Heiress.” Eddie placed his hand on his chest, and you immediately felt its absence from your leg. “I’ll be sure to more accurately mock you in the future.”

He was insufferable in the most endearing way. You took his hand, smoothing your thumb over his knuckles, and brought it back to where it was. He gave your thigh a small squeeze; not inherently sexual, but made your pulse quicken all the same.

You retrieved your breath from where it had hitched in your throat and opened the plastic container of melon. With delicate fingers as to not touch every piece, you plucked a cantaloupe cube from the pile and took a bite. The juice trickled down your chin; you cupped your hand beneath it to catch the droplets before they stained the bed sheet.

Eddie, meanwhile, kept his gaze plastered to how your lips wrapped around the fruit. His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly and he coughed as though snapping himself out of a daze. 

“You okay?” 

“Y-Yeah.” He managed a smile and popped a piece of melon in his mouth, chewing if only to keep himself busy until he could concentrate on something besides your parted lips. “Peachy keen.” With another slight twitch of his mouth, let out a cough. 

It dawned on you, then, that he was losing control, and that you were the cause. If you indulged him in his desire–desire that you admittedly shared–you’d soon find yourselves pawing at each other on an old bed sheet in the middle of a public park.

You couldn’t, wouldn’t, shouldn’t let desperation get the best of you. You knew better.

Instead, you surveyed your surroundings for any other conversation topic. Grass, blooming flowers, the ants parading towards a puddle of spilled soda.

You took another swig of chocolate milk, hoping it would cool you from the inside out. “Yoo-Hoo was an interesting drink choice.” The words were strangled, forced, too abrupt. 

Eddie knew it, too, but he played along. Perhaps more for his sake than yours, but he still loosened a chuckle. “Yeah, I saw them at the cor—bodega, and it reminded me of when I was a kid.” Fiddling with the discarded sandwich wrapper, he continued. “My uncle would buy one on every payday. A Yoo-Hoo for me and a lotto scratcher for himself.”

“Did you get more Yoo-Hoo if he won anything?”

“Nah.” He crumpled the sandwich foil into a ball. “That went towards bills.”

Right. Eddie had told you that he grew up in poverty, sharing a tiny trailer with his uncle. Any extra money wasn’t really extra at all. 

You knew the feeling. How many times had you found loose change on the ground or a dropped dollar at the subway token booth and slipped it into the motel’s register?

“How did he feel about you pursuing music?” You were back on the right track, retreating into topics as far away from sex as possible.

Eddie shrugged, his shoulders holding a story that he wasn’t ready to tell. “He wasn’t thrilled. Wanted me to have something steady, something I could count on.” So I didn’t end up bartering to stay in a shitty Queens motel remained unspoken. “But he was the one who bought me my first guitar, so it’s partially his fault.”

There was that smirk, the one that turned your knees into jelly. God, to be on your knees for him, to taste what lay behind that godforsaken zipper–

You scrambled to patch up the cracks that might allow desperation to seep through. “Did you always want to be a musician?” 

“Pretty much. I mean, when I was really young, I wanted to be a dinosaur.”

You burst out into laughter, slapping your hand across your mouth to contain it all. Out of all of the things he could have said, ‘I wanted to be a dinosaur’ was nowhere near your list of possibilities. “A…dinosaur?”

“Yup. A triceratops, to be exact.” 

“Mhm.” What was going on? How did we get here? You chalked it up to being a blessing in disguise, a definite pivot from your racy thoughts. “Any particular reason?”

Did you want to know?

“The horns seemed cool. And good for impaling.”

You tucked your lips into your mouth and stifled a laugh, trying to keep a serious face. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out for you.”

“Yeah, I was real bummed when I found out they were already extinct.” He pursed his lips and tilted his head towards you, breaking out into a smile. “So, any updates on social work school?”

You almost shook your head before you remembered. “There’s this event they’re doing where admitted students get to tour the campus, meet each other, talk to advisors...”

“You gonna go?”

“I probably should.” It would be a great opportunity for you to get your bearings and register for classes. “Are you busy next Friday?”

“Next Friday? Let me check my schedule.” Eddie feigned contemplation for a beat, then looked at you with a smile that flipped your stomach. “Free as a bird. Why, does the Heiress need to be accompanied to her Smart People Gathering?”

You stuck out your tongue in mock annoyance. Eddie grabbed it by the tip, pinching it between his thumb and forefinger. “You’re a brat.”

His eyes bore into yours, holding your gaze even as he let go. He’d set the challenge: You make him beg to tag along, or you back down and admit that you wanted him to join you.

You chose the former.

“I mean, I can take Nora if you’re busy. Or Ben.” 

Jealousy flashed across Eddie’s face at your flippant reply. Did you have to add Ben? Probably not. Was it fun to watch Eddie squirm? Absolutely.

“I’ll take you.” He didn’t need to say it; not when his brief scowl already proclaimed that you won. 

Grinning, you kissed his cheek triumphantly. “Great.” You wiped at where your lipstick had left a smudge. “But the next time you grab my tongue, I’ll bite you.”

Without missing a beat, he growled, “Maybe I want you to.” 

You couldn’t temper your reaction, not with his voice reaching a bass note that signaled that his desire was just as strong as yours. Without warning, you anchored yourself in his lap, legs on either side of his, and let your teeth graze the skin above his collarbone. You bit down just enough to make him utter a tiny yelp. 

His fingers dug into the soft flesh of your ass as he pulled you forward, your core now directly atop his. Instinct kicked in and your hips moved of their own accord, your cotton panties dragging over his fly, already wet just from your proximity to him.

Teeth clicked and tongues found one another, the kiss somehow sloppier and more ravenous than the tipsy one you’d shared a few nights earlier. You grabbed hold of his t-shirt, the fabric bunching in your shaking palms as you brought him closer, closer, still never close enough…

Eddie nipped at your lower lip, one palm sliding up to cup your cheek. His touch teetered between a timid ‘you’re mine?’ and a possessive ‘you’re mine,’ opposing sides in a battle to claim and be claimed. His own hips hedged upwards, the friction equal parts tantalizing and torturous.

God, you wanted him. You wanted him to flip you over and pin you down, hands grasping your wrists hard enough to leave a bruise. You wanted to remember that he was there, that he was on you, with you. You wanted to stare at those marks from the privacy of your own room and recount how he’d taken you in public. 

And then you heard it–your name. Not ‘Heiress,’ nor did it come from Eddie’s kiss-swollen lips. The voice was feminine and familiar.

You broke the kiss, your blood running ice cold as you swiveled around to see Aunt Tam and Uncle Mo standing before you. Aunt Tam’s brows were raised in a combination of disappointment and disbelief; Uncle Mo’s cheeks were splotched pink in pure embarrassment–a feeling you knew all too well.

You froze, your fingers now tangled in Eddie’s frizzy curls as reality sunk in, squashing down most of the lust connecting you to him. You’d been spotted dry humping Eddie in the middle of the park by your parents’ best friends. People who’d known you since you were born.

Too quickly, you removed yourself from Eddie’s lap and smoothed out the hem of your sundress, as though your aunt and uncle would forget what they’d just witnessed if it wasn’t happening anymore. 

This was bad. Worse than bad; this was humiliating. You wanted to beg them not to tell your parents, a child with her hand caught in the cookie jar, but the words clung to your throat. Instead, and much more shamefully, tears ran down your cheeks.

“I’m sorry, we just–we got carried away, we shouldn’t have–I’m so sorry, please don’t say anything to my parents–”

Damn it. Damn it all to hell. Why couldn’t you just keep yourself in control? 

Aunt Tam cleared her throat, shaking herself from surprise. “No, I’m sorry for interrupting. I just wasn’t expecting to see, um, that.” The coloring of her cheeks now matched her husband’s as they hurried away, unable to leave fast enough. “Enjoy your picnic. Good to, uh, see you both.”

Everything was suddenly too much. The sun was too bright, the birds were chirping too loudly, the grass beneath the sheet was too sharp. 

You scrambled to clean up the remaining food, all of which now looked as appetizing as a pile of mud. You couldn’t even look at Eddie when you spoke. “We should go home.”

“Heiress, it’s fine. Calm down–”

“I can’t calm down!” Too snappy, too harsh, but you no longer had the capacity to care. “My parents will kill me if they find out we were together.”

Confusion knitted Eddie’s brows together. “You’re a grown adult. And it’s not like we were naked and getting arrested for public indecency.”

His lack of understanding only strengthened your frustration. “No, I–it’s just not a good look for me to be fooling around with a guest.”

There was no mistaking the hurt in Eddie’s scoff. “I mean, we’re on a date…and we’re kinda a…a thing, right?” He chewed on his lower lip, and you felt a wall come up, that same barrier he’d erected when you’d all but accused him of vandalizing Eisen’s. “I didn’t realize I was just a guest.”

“Yeah, no–I mean, we are a thing,” you rushed to explain, “and you’re not just a guest to me, but you technically are still a guest.” 

“Right.” Eddie stood up and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I get it. Yeah. I just thought…never mind.” He blew out a breath and stooped down to help you clean up.

You forced yourself to speak again, terrified that you’d shatter this already fragile moment. “I’m sorry,” you said, your voice so low that you weren’t sure he’d even hear it.

“S’okay.”

But it wasn’t. You knew it wasn’t okay even when he reached back and laced his fingers with yours. It was no longer an act of affection, but one of needed reassurance. And it didn’t fix the gaping chasm; you weren’t sure how to fix it, or if it could be fixed at all.

It was a Band-Aid on a bullet wound, and time was ticking until it bled out.

--

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[prentissmultiverse]

Written in Lipstick

One of many short snippets I have hidden in my drafts.

You wake up in a hotel room, naked and hungover. Emily Prentiss x fem!reader tw: implied smut, power dynamics, mention of alcohol

(words: 1.3k)

Your head pounds in rhythm with your heartbeat, each pulse a cruel reminder of the mistakes you probably made last night. The pillow beneath you smells faintly of hotel detergent, and the cold air brushing over your back makes you shiver. You shift slightly, your cheek sticking to the pillowcase, and let out a low groan. Everything aches—your head, your muscles, your… well, everything.

You’re too groggy to think much about the cool air on your skin or the fact that you’re lying on your stomach, entirely bare beneath the sheets. All you know is that you desperately need water, ibuprofen, and the courage to figure out what happened.

Pushing yourself upright feels like scaling a mountain, your limbs protesting every movement. The sheet slips down your body as you swing your legs off the bed, but you don’t bother covering yourself. You’re too tired, too hungover, and way too focused on reaching the bathroom to care.

The cold tiles sting your feet as you stumble into the bathroom, leaning heavily on the counter as you reach for the faucet. Cool water splashes over your hands, soothing for a moment before you lift them to your face and scrub at your eyes.

You blink blearily at the mirror—and then you freeze.

The sight of your reflection pulls the air from your lungs.

Your reflection looks like someone else. A disheveled, marked-up, and… thoroughly satisfied version of yourself stares back. Your neck is littered with dark bruises, the kind you don’t get from bumping into furniture, but from harsh lips and teeth on skin. The marks trail downward, disappearing into the curve of your collarbone and lower still, scattered across your breasts with precise care.

You glance down, your stomach tightening. Your thighs aren’t spared either—faint impressions of teeth and hands decorate your skin like a story written in bruises and bites.

Your breath catches.

What the hell happened last night?

You twist your body slightly, peering over your shoulder to inspect the rest of the damage. That’s when you see it.

In dark, smudged red lipstick, bold and unmistakable, is a single word written across your back:

"Emily’s."

Your heart skips, then starts racing, pounding harder than your headache. Her name. Emily. As in Emily Prentiss, your boss. The woman you spent all of last night trying not to stare at too obviously, despite her magnetic pull. The woman whose every glance seemed to strip you bare even before she physically did so.

The lipstick is unmistakable, its color a vivid match to the one Emily Prentiss wore last night. The letters are precise, though smudged in places as if someone had gripped you firmly while writing them.

“Shit,” you whisper hoarsely, staring at the word as if it might disappear if you blink enough times. But it doesn’t. It’s there, written across your back like a brand, like a claim.

Your hands grip the counter as fragments of the night come flooding back, sharp and vivid, each one more incriminating than the last.

Emily leaning close at the bar, her hand brushing yours. “You think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me?” Her voice had been low, teasing, laced with a challenge that had sent shivers down your spine.

You remember laughing nervously, trying to brush it off, but Emily didn’t let you. Her hand had found the small of your back, her thumb brushing in slow, teasing circles. She leaned in closer, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered, “Do you have any idea how hard it is to keep my hands off you?”

The way her dark eyes seemed to bore into yours, challenging, inviting. Her voice, low and velvet-soft: “You’ve been teasing me all night. Let me show you what happens when you get my attention.”

Your knees had nearly buckled.

The next flashes are even hazier, but the sensations remain. Emily pressing you against the wall of the hotel room, her hands sliding up your body, her lips teasing and nipping at your skin. The sound of her voice, rougher now, filled with intent: “I’ve wanted to do this for so long. To make you mine.”

Your breath hitches as the memories flood in, the heat of her body pressed against yours, her lips capturing yours in a kiss that stole the air from your lungs; it feels like she’s still there, her presence lingering in the air, her dominance as intoxicating as the whiskey you’d downed earlier.

And then there’s the memory of surrender.

It rushes back with startling clarity, as if your body had been waiting for you to acknowledge it fully, to feel it again. The moment you’d given in—completely, without hesitation—surges through you like a tide, overwhelming and inescapable. The way you’d given yourself over completely, trusting her, wanting her, needing her in a way that scares you now.

The way you’d whispered her name—desperate, pleading—as she claimed you, again and again and again.

You remember the way Emily had looked at you, her dark eyes burning with intent as she hoovered over you. Her hands had held your wrists above your head, her grip firm, unyielding, but not harsh. The tension between restraint and gentleness had been intoxicating, leaving you breathless, your skin alive with the heat of her touch.

She’d taken her time, savoring every inch of you like you were something to be cherished and claimed all at once. Her lips had trailed along your jaw, down your neck and over your breasts, each kiss and each bite sending jolts of pleasure through you.

“Look at you,” she’d whispered, her voice heavy with approval. “So perfect for me.”

It had been impossible to hold back under her gaze. You’d felt stripped bare in every sense, exposed not just physically but emotionally, and yet it hadn’t scared you in the moment. Her dominance wasn’t about power; it was about care, about the way she’d cradled your face when she kissed you, the way her eyes softened even as her hands pressed your hips down into the mattress.

She’d known exactly where to touch, how to touch, and when you’d gasped her name, pleading, she’d only smiled a knowing, wicked thing that made your pulse race.

“You’re mine,” she’d whispered against your ear, her breath hot and shivery. “Now and always. Do you understand me?”

You’d nodded frantically, needing her more than you’d ever needed anyone, and she’d rewarded you with kisses that left you dizzy, her hands mapping your body like she never wanted to forget a single detail.

In that moment, you’d felt weightless, untethered, and safe. Trusting her completely, wanting her with a ferocity that still made your stomach flip even now.

And now, standing in the harsh light of the bathroom, staring at your reflection, you see the truth of it written all over you—on your neck, your chest, your thighs, your back.

The lipstick letters on your back feel heavier now, their weight settling over you like a promise you didn’t realize you’d made.

Your cheeks are flushed, your lips parted as you stare at yourself, trying to reconcile the person you see with the one who had begged for Emily’s touch, who had melted under her dominance.

This wasn’t just a one-night mistake. It couldn’t be. Not with the way Emily had looked at you, her eyes dark with desire but softened by something deeper. Not with the way she’d whispered, “You’re mine, now and always,” like it wasn’t just about tonight, but every night to come.

And that realization—the sheer enormity of it—makes your knees weak all over again. You bury your face in your hands, muttering: “Oh fuck, what the hell did I get myself into?”