#and I haven’t had to cope with something like this but after this weekend I prommy to be normal

[smokedbeans]

Sorry for live-blogging my family drama do you still think I’m hot

[jexnkookie]

The Law of Attraction (Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader) [Part 3]

Story Synopsis: Throughout his life, Jung Kook has only ever loved one girl. Despite her being out of his league and of an elite class that he wasn't born into, he fell hard, keeping his feelings a closely guarded secret. When they parted ways, and Jung Kook pursued his law career, he did so with the intent of moving on. But when she unexpectedly arrives back into his life, Jung Kook finds himself once again face to face with his own insecurities, and the girl of his dreams.

Story Rating: M (18+) [Language, sex, depression, alcoholism]

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Characters/Pairings: Lawyer! Jung Kook x Reader (feat. Jimin x Reader)

Chapter Word Count: 2.8k

Authors Note: I've been at home with not much to do today, so I decided to add the third chapter for you all before the weekend ends. Once again, thank you all for the kind words and taking the time to read this story. I've also decided to start a tag list, after being asked for it, so if you'd like to be included in that, please just let me know! x

Taglist: @khadeeeeej

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Series Masterlist

The warm, morning sun peeked through the opening of the drawn curtains in your hotel bedroom, covering everything in a glowing light. Your mind slowly awoke, piecing together where you were, and what happened last night. You smiled at the thought, and reached out for your fiancé to hold him. But the side of the bed that was supposed to be his was cold and empty, making you open your eyes and furrow your brows. 

You got up slowly, walked out into the living room portion of your suite, and your eyes widened at the bottles of alcohol lining the coffee table. Jimin was there, passed out on the sofa, in a way you haven’t seen in a very long time. It made your chest ache for him, knowing he was slipping back into himself. 

“Honey?” You called out to no response. You walked over and kneeled down beside him, brushing his soft, blonde locks from his beautiful face. “Jimin…” 

He murmured something under his breath but refused to open his eyes, and moments later, he was back asleep as his body clearly tried to fight off the elevated alcohol levels in his system. You felt your eyes begin to tear up at the man in front of you, confused as to what could’ve sent him spiraling backwards. 

“You promised me you wouldn’t do this again, baby.” You whispered through spilling tears, knowing from experience that it was useless. He can’t hear you in his state. “You fucking promised me, Jimin… I-I can’t be around you right now, my love, I’m so sorry.” 

With that, you stormed into the bedroom and slid into a quick pair of leggings and a sweatshirt from your suitcase, grabbing your designer bag and phone. You began heading towards the door, but paused, looking back to the man you loved so, incredibly deeply. Not knowing what else to do to, you made your decision to look away from the heartbreaking disaster in front of you. You headed out the door, down the hall, and slipped quickly into the elevator to take you out of the building. 

The streets were busy, despite it being so early on a weekend morning. You loved the bustle of the city, as it offered a pleasant distraction. Watching people as you passed each other, you could easily slip into their life through your imagination. What job did they work? Were they single, or with someone? What did they like to eat? Did they have children? You could imagine it all, pretending to be somebody else in your mind, if only for a brief time. It was a coping strategy you learned as a girl, when you wanted to escape your own life, and the irony of it was never lost on you. You weren’t foolish, you saw the way people eyed your designer clothing, and you knew they must wonder what your life was like. They would never really knew that you would trade it all in for theirs, if it meant having a life that was just a little less complicated. 

Lost in thought, you had wandered several blocks down from your apartment, just exploring the beautiful neighborhood. You stumbled upon a homey-feeling American diner, with large windows on side, looking somewhat out of place built into the bottom floor of a large, very modern skyscraper. You could see in from where you stood across the street, and watched the staff bring coffee and delicious looking breakfast to each guest. The crosswalk light signaled green, so you began walking towards the restaurant, deciding to grab a bite to eat to clear your head. Maybe I could grab some yummy food for Jimin too, you thought, and talk things over while he sobers up. 

You entered through the front door, and the attached bell rang to alert the staff of a new customer.

“Good morning!” A sweet, red headed waitress with an apron tied around her waist called out in a sing-song voice from behind the counter. “Sit anywhere, I’ll bring you a menu!” 

“Thank you!” You responded, looking around for a place to sit. It seemed as though the place was a packed house, with every booth being taken. 

But there, in the back corner, you spotted a familiar face. Or, what you could catch of his face, as it was buried in his menu, with wide, boyish eyes looking over each option. You were thankful to see him, thinking it an intervention of some sort to keep you from having to be completely alone with your thoughts.

“Excuse me,” You walked over to the waitress who had greeted you. “That man in the corner there is a friend of mine, is he with someone?” 

“No ma’am.” She responded, shaking her head. “He likes to come in often and eat by himself.” 

“I think I’ll sit with him and surprise him, then. I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t interrupting anything.” You smiled, which she returned. “Thank you.” 

You made your way over to him, with an unwavering grin on your face. When you arrived by his table, he still hadn’t looked up, lost on the seemingly endless food options on the menu. 

“Excuse me, is this seat taken? This place is so busy, I was wondering if I could join you?” 

Jung Kook’s eyes widened at the sound of that voice. The voice he would know anywhere, pleasant and gentle. 

“Y/N?” He responded, looking up at you. “What are you doing here? A-And of course, please, sit. Um, hi.” He mentally kicked himself for stuttering. Cool. He said sarcastically to himself. 

“Hi.” You giggled at his surprised and stumbling reaction. “I just decided to leave the hotel for a bit, and I spotted this place from across the street. It’s so popular, it must be delicious.” 

“Mhm, I come here sometimes and it’s always busy.” 

“Yeah? The waitress I talked to said she sees you in here often.” 

“O-oh… Yeah, I guess she probably does.” Jung Kook said shyly. 

You both made small talk over the food, the neighborhood and the local things to do that Jung Kook has discovered in his short time being here. While the conversation itself had little significance, happening over modest diner eggs, toast and coffee, the feeling Jung Kook had was indescribable. He never forgot, even after years of being apart, just how easy it is to have a conversation with you. The way you listen so intently, and keep your attention, as though nothing else in the world mattered. It made him feel so special and seen. Your voice was just as sugary as ever, and your giggles never changed, still able to make his heart race. He wanted to hear that laugh forever, and he wanted to be the man who made it happen. 

“Where’s Mr. Park this morning?” Jung Kook asks, suddenly noticing that you were alone. 

“Oh, Jimin?” You paused, hesitation not going unnoticed by the perceptive man sitting across from you. “He, um… He just wanted to sleep in. Jet lag and all that, y’know?” 

“Oh, right.” Jung Kook nodded, not wanting to dig deeper into your pregnant pause. It isn’t my business, he thought. “He seems like a great guy, by the way. You seem happy.” 

“Y-Yeah.” You stuttered, praying tears didn’t come to your eyes. “Jimin’s really amazing, he always has been. But um, what about you, Jung Kook? Are you seeing someone?” 

“No.” Jung Kook chuckled, taking a sip of his coffee. “No, I uh… I broke off an engagement back in Korea before moving to the city.” 

“You were engaged?” You asked, making sure you heard him correctly. “I’m so sorry to hear that it didn’t work out.” 

Jung Kook paused, thinking back to the woman whose heart he broke, as he looked at the woman who he’s always truly loved. You’re the reason I couldn’t love her. He said internally, gazing at your face. 

“It’s ok. I just think she wasn’t the one for me.” 

“Yeah? It sounds like you believe that everyone has someone perfect out there, just for them.” You said with a smile, and Jung Kook looked at your face, adoring the way the morning sun attached itself to your skin, making you glow. “I think so, too.” 

“I’ve always believed that. Everyone deserves to find their happiness.” Jung Kook said, his tone shifting in a way you couldn’t quite place, but his chocolate brown eyes were delicate as he looked at you. He swallowed, his tone heavy yet genuine when he added, “I’m glad you and Jimin found each other.” 

Your lips parted, attempting to find words that weren’t there. So you just nodded and offered a polite smile. The silence was thankfully cut short by the waitress, who brought your check. You went to reach for your wallet, but Jung Kook pulled his card out first and laid it onto the table. 

“Please, let me.” He said, his voice warm. “We’ll call it a thank you, for surprising me. I’m glad you did.” 

“Ok.” You grinned, unsure as to why your cheeks were heating up at his compliment. 

While you and Jung Kook were lost in your breakfast and conversation, Jimin had woken up to an empty hotel room. His head ached, but no worse than his chest did when he realized your absence. He had wanted to crawl into bed with you, hold you tight, and apologize for what he had done in the best way he knew how; cover your body with love, and spend the morning buried between your thighs as he pleasured you with kisses and soft, pressured licks.  But when the bed was empty, the panic set in. 

Quick thinking led him to go to his phone, and find your location, as you always shared your location with each other. He spotted your little dot on his phone at a diner, just a few blocks away, and Jimin felt a bit of comfort wash over him. She was just hungry. He thought, taking a deep breath. Let’s meet her there, she’ll be surprised. 

But what Jimin had not expected, was to see him there. The puppy-eyed lawyer sat across from you, and Jimin could tell even from across the street than the man held on to every word you said. Jimin knew that look well, because it’s how he looks at you, too. Jimin grits his teeth, and sends a quick text message to his main lawyer, Kim Namjoon. 

9:11 a.m: Something needs to be done about the new rookie on your team, because spending time alone with my fiancé is wildly inappropriate. See to it that this doesn’t happen again, or I will be finding new representation.  

9:12 a.m: *image attached* 

Jimin takes one last look at the scene in front of him, and goes back to the hotel room. He orders three more bottles, and passes out once again. 

——————————————————————————————————

On Monday morning, Jung Kook was feeling light. He entered his law firm building as he does every day; a freshly pressed black suit on, his dark hair neatly styled, and a cup of coffee in his hand. But this morning, he felt a bit happier, attributing it to a simple breakfast shared with you the weekend prior. He wished he could have breakfast with you every morning, but buried that thought, not daring to spoil his mood with fantasies. 

He sat down at his office desk, and began looking through his weekly calendar and emails. This week was the final week or preparation before the Park Jimin case truly begins, and Jung Kook was fully ready to explain to his mentor why he had told him last minute he needed to recuse himself. It would be the right, responsible thing to do, and it would give him space from you. As much as he wished he didn’t need it, he felt that he needed to move on. You found your happiness. It’s time to let you go. 

Namjoon entered Jung Kook’s office, and closed the door behind him. Jung Kook looked up at his face, which usually held a gentle, welcoming smile. This morning, however, Namjoon was clenching his jaw like a father who was trying not to explode on his son. 

“Jung Kook.” Namjoon said, his voice scarily calm. “I want… No, I need you to be honest with me. What is going on with you and Mr. Park’s fiancé?” 

“I’m not sure I know what you’re referring to.” Jung Kook answered professionally, causing Namjoon to roll his eyes. 

“For fuck’s sake, kid, drop the act.” Namjoon deep voice was almost a growl. “I’m going to lose out on a top client because you can’t keep your nose where it belongs.” 

“What-” Jung Kook was stopped by Namjoon throwing his phone down on his desk, a picture illuminating the screen. Jung Kook squinted at it, to see a photo of himself and you at the diner. 

“How did you get this photo?” Jung Kook asked, his heart sinking. 

“Mr. Park saw you. He’s furious.” Namjoon explained, pacing back and forth. “He called it ‘wildly inappropriate’, and threatened to find new representation if it happens again.” 

“Mr. Kim, I’m so sorry.” Jung Kook panicked. “Please understand, it’s a misunderstanding. Nothing happened, we was just-”

The office door knob turned, and a hush fell over the room. Jimin and yourself stood there at the door, hand in hand. Namjoon and Jimin locked eyes, and Namjoon could see that the client looked worse than he did just a few days prior. Dark, prominent circles were under his eyes, and his hair was slightly messier than before. Jung Kook noticed none of that, however, and stared directly at you. 

You were wearing dark sunglasses, with no thought to take them off despite being indoors. Your hair was seemingly brushed quickly, notably and uncharacteristically  not put together well. Your loose fitting clothes seemed carelessly thrown on, not styled perfectly in your usual fashion. You were quiet, head down, tightly holding Jimin’s hand and appeared to make yourself smaller, like you wanted to vanish into thin air. Jung Kook wanted so desperately to bring you in and hold you, shield you from whatever it was that made you look so tired, in such a short amount of time. 

“Mr. Park.” Namjoon greeted. “Good morning.” 

“Good morning.” Jimin responded, his throat sounding hoarse. “I came to fill out any paperwork, and tie up loose ends before we meet again next week.” 

“Of course, I was just talking with Mr. Jeon. I’ll be with you in a moment.”

“Mr. Jeon,” Jimin called out, his voice weak. “Mr. Kim informed me you were recusing yourself from my legal team for this case. I just wanted to thank you, for the work you’ve done.” 

“Y-You’re welcome, Mr. Park.” Jung Kook said, confused with the kind words. This wasn’t the furious tone that Namjoon had described. 

“My love,” Jimin turned to you, his voice extra soft and delicate. “Will you go with Mr. Kim to his office, please? I’ll be there soon, I just wanted to speak to Mr. Jeon privately about the case before he leaves us. I had some questions.” 

“Ok.” You said, your voice almost a whisper. Jimin squeezes your hand and kisses the top of your head before turning to Namjoon, who nods in understanding. 

“Right this way, Ms. Y/L/N.” Namjoon says gently, leading you out of the office. 

When you are out of sight, Jimin turns to you. The fury Namjoon spoke about is now prominent in his eyes, leading Jung Kook to realize that your presence is the thin defense that keeps his anger at bay. 

“Jeon Jung Kook.” Jimin spat. “I don’t know where you get off, eyeing up my fiancé in some cheap diner, but if I ever catch you sniffing around her again, I’ll ruin you. Do you understand me?” 

“Mr. Park, I never meant to offend you.” Jung Kook said. “Nothing happened. We just bumped into each other.” 

“I don’t want excuses, or explanations from you.” Jimin rolled his eyes. “I’m not a fucking idiot Mr. Jeon, I see the way you look at her. I’m warning you, to watch yourself. You’re from Busan, correct?” 

“Yes, Mr. Park.” 

“Then you know who I am, and who my father is.” Jimin’s voice was dripping in anger. “I will personally see to it that you never represent anyone in our city, or this city again, if you come near her. That’s a promise.” 

Jung Kook felt suffocated under the weight of the air and the weight of Jimin’s glare. Even in his disheveled state, his blonde locks dropping to his face couldn’t cover the anger in his eyes. Jimin stormed out of his office, slamming the door behind him, causing other office workers to startle and look into his room. Jung Kook buried his head in his hands, unsure as to what the right path to move forward is. 

[tieronecrush]

꒰ა ONLY ANGEL ໒꒱

javier peña x f!reader

chapter four: i can see you

series masterlist

rating: E (18+ only, MDNI)

summary: After his return to the US, Javier is trying to settle back into a normal life without the pressures of Colombia and the DEA, but he finds himself feeling isolated with no one to spend his nights with. Now a newly appointed criminology professor at Texas A&M, he is drawn to you, a post-grad student in one of his classes. You’re intelligent and witty, sweet and kind, and he can’t get you out of his mind. To cope with his growing loneliness and to rid himself of thoughts of you, he signs up for an “arrangement service” to connect him with somebody—a sugar baby—he can care for. After he is matched up with Angel, he finds himself developing feelings quicker than he ever expected, but what happens when he finds out Angel is really you?

series warnings: power imbalance (prof and student), sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, discussion of money, criminal activity, judicial systems, graduate school, smut, daddy/papí kink, praise kink, degradation, self deprecation, discussion of self worth, multiple sexual or romantic partners, sex work, cursing, use of spanish, likely more warning so read at your own risk!

word count: 9.6k

a/n: this chapter is A LOTTTT of filth and as always thank you to bestie @northernbluess for beta-ing <333 love ya!

It’s the first class after Javi had you on your knees in front of him, the rest of the weekend was spent circling back to that image and having to take a cold shower or adjust himself in his jeans when he met up with some old friends from his days as a sheriff. The other thoughts that alternated from the image of you on your knees, soft and supple lips around his cock, was his view from between your legs, pleasure contorting your face and pulling you to a place where you fully let him give your body the treatment it deserves. There’s a phantom feeling of your come all over his face, the visual of you squirting for him bringing him to the edge when he spent Sunday night with his hand around his cock.

What would you feel like, writhing underneath him and making all those sweet little sounds he’s been replaying over and over in his head, while he gives you his cock over and over until you’re screaming?

You were now a craving that couldn’t be satiated; even if he had your mouth again, even if he got another taste of you, even if he got the chance to fuck you properly, it wouldn’t ever be enough. He’s always going to want one more orgasm, one more little moan of his name, one more time spilling into you and watching you take it wherever.

This is why he is buzzing as he walks through the halls to the lecture room, stalking up to the door and peeking through the small window. A glimpse of the back of your head sends a hot rush of his blood south, rolling out his shoulders and taking a breath to calm down. He languidly makes his way down the stairs at the end of the rows of seating, slowing his pace even more when he starts to reach the row you’re occupying. The sound of your voice rises above all the other students in his ears, and he bites back a smile as he’s reminded of the short phone call from the evening prior.

“Will you draw something else for me, bebita?”

“I can but that means I won’t be paying too much attention in class, Professor Peña.”

“Eh, doesn’t matter so much. Can just fill you in when I see you next. Call it private tutoring…” He grinned when he heard you laugh on the other side of the line, feeling like a schoolboy crushing hard. Javi was sitting on his couch, laying back and listening to you, trying to ask questions that gave long-winded answers so he could listen to your voice. “D’you have any other hobbies, bebita?”

“Hm, I mean, I guess so. Haven’t had a lot of time to do much these days cause of school. But I’ll sound like a grandma if I tell you about all those so let’s leave it at I like to doodle in your class.”

“No, no, I wanna hear about it all. What else is there besides drawing?”

“Well, um, I like embroidery. Like those pieces of fabric in the ring with designs on them? Those are fun to make when I’m watching TV or a film. Helps me focus, I guess. Actually, a lot of my hobbies are just things that help me focus so maybe I have a bit of an attention problem—”

“Don’t seem to have an issue paying attention to me, cariño.”

“Yeah, but you’re a distraction in and of yourself. I can barely pay attention to anything you’re saying during lecture cause I’m just looking at you, which is why I had to start doodling to have something to help me focus.”

“I see. Alright, so drawing and embroidery, anything else you like to do?”

“I guess anything I can make really. I find new mediums that look fun to do, buy all the supplies, and do it once, and then don’t touch it again.” You laughed again and Javi smiled and shook his head.

“Well, how about you make me something from all those different things? I want some Angel originals, hermosa. Show off how much I like art.”

“Javi, you’ve got no clue about anything to do with art.”

“Yeah, but I would know they’re yours. That would make them the best.”

It was silent for a moment, Javi awaited your answer to his loosely termed commission.

“Alright, deal.”

When he comes back into the lecture hall from his trailing thoughts, the student next to you is speaking, trying and failing to keep her voice at a low enough volume for Javier not to hear her.

“I heard that Professor Peña used to not be the most ethical when he was in the DEA…like slept with prostitutes to get information. Can’t even imagine the shit he must’ve caught there,” she says as if it’s the juiciest information she’s been told, likely wanting someone else besides you to overhear and question it.

You scoff at the girl sitting near you, rolling your eyes before your brow creases slightly in disapproval, “Y’know, you really shouldn’t be making assumptions about people based on campus rumors. And even if he did do that, he clearly did something right cause he stopped all of those criminals, and probably helped the women too. A lot of people talk to be able to get other opportunities.”

Anger flashes in your chest, burning red like heated iron to brand your heart with Javi’s likeness.

No, no feelings. Nothing more than what you have going on with him, no getting any more attached and making it messy.

But how can people just say shit like that? Without any care that the person they’re talking about is in the room, likely overhearing everything?

Javier doesn’t deserve the treatment. He’s so caring, and intelligent, and giving, and—No. No more.

You’re drifting back and forth between frustrations and telling yourself to calm down for the rest of class, and it’s clear on your face to Javier. He overheard everything, especially your quick defense of him. He knows the extra meaning behind your words, or at least hopes that there’s something else there — maybe a bit of his infatuation or school-age crush reciprocated. Eyes stay glancing over at you throughout his lecture and discussion, no comments or questions from you as you hurriedly take notes or scribble out something in the margins of your paper.

Fingers twitch at the sight of your tense shoulders, creased brow, and avoidant eyes. He so badly wants to walk right over, kiss you to release all of the pent-up frustration, and thank you for your defense. What he would give to be able to sit right next to you, huddle together in your own world like in the booth at the bar over the weekend.

He doesn’t get to catch you before you jump up at the end of class that day, quickly leaving after getting dirty looks from your seatmate. Javier is tempted to call the other student down to speak to him, but that feels a step too far, so he quells down the need to protect you and moves on for the day.

It isn’t until the second meeting of the week that he finally gets to see you again, his calls going to voicemail for the two nights following that day. He’s in the hallway, speaking with another professor within the department when you come down the corridor, a sweet autumnal plaid mini dress on with a cardigan over it. He licks his lips at the sight of your thighs covered with translucent black tights that tuck under the ankle of your Dr. Marten boots.

The other man’s voice slowly fades out as Javier focuses on you, attempting and failing to steal his gaze away as you walk past him. Eyes lock with a teasing knowing behind yours, the corners of your lips twitching up as you laugh to yourself that he looks like a dog to a bone.

“Hi, Professor Peña and it’s nice to see you again, Professor Quinn,” you slow down on the other side of the two men, Professor Quinn returning your smile and waving you over for a conversation.

“So lovely to see you again! Lizzy has been asking about you, she misses her favorite babysitter. How have you been? Are you in one of Professor Peña’s classes?” Professor Quinn looks between the two of you, friendly small talk coated with tension that only you and Javier can feel. The secret you share licks flames in your gut, stirring an excitement that you know so much more about him than other students, than his coworkers, than most people. That excitement has anxiety constricting in your chest briefly, afraid of what might happen if you allowed yourself to feel any claim over Javi.

Don’t get so attached. It’s work, a job, and there are other men on your schedule. No one else is like Javi, but canceling on anyone else to spend more time with him is too close to blurring the lines.

Javier looks at you, his heart in his throat as he is the recipient of one of those smiles from you, the one that had him crushing from the first sight of it and the same one he can’t get out of his head when you’re apart. Before Professor Quinn feels the need to repeat his question, Javier clears his throat and nods curtly.

“Yeah, my first graduate-level course. Got to get to the lecture in about five minutes actually.” Javier steps to leave but you hold up a hand.

“Oh, sorry, Professor Peña, but do you mind waiting one moment? I’d like to talk to you about the upcoming assignment on the way to the lecture hall.” Javi has a burning need to say he’ll talk to you after class, to cover any suspicions of his colleague from the prolonged eye contact between the two of you, but he can never deny those eyes of yours — and you seem to know that fact already.

He waits to the side while you quickly finish your conversation with Professor Quinn, who taught you during your undergraduate years and whose daughter you babysat for date nights during the school year and nannied over the summers you stayed in San Antonio.

There’s a flash of jealousy in Javier’s chest, no logic behind it, but he can’t help but feel like he wants to be the only one to know you as a student and outside of class. It’s silly, especially because this relationship is completely innocent, but he can’t stop the feeling from rushing over like a wave.

With a smile, one that he convinces himself isn’t quite like the ones you give him, you say goodbye to your former instructor and turn to Javier. Closing the gap to catch up with him, you start to walk side by side, appropriately inches apart despite the surge of wanting that trails down your left side and his right.

“So what did you want to talk to me about? The upcoming assignment? Is it the midterm research paper?” Javier maintains his professionalism, only glancing at you a few times while his mouth waters at the sight of exposed skin at your collarbone and the scent of your sweet perfume.

“Actually, I kind of just said that…” your voice goes to a lower volume, but still audible to him, “I was hoping that you’d maybe have some appointments left for your office hours? Maybe for a little tutoring session? I have my Spanish midterm coming up soon.”

Javi bites back his smirk, shaking his head to himself at your coded questions. Slowing to a stop in front of the door to the classroom, he turns to you, his boots clicking on the linoleum tiles as he rests a hand on his hip to consider.

“You can have the last one for today,” his voice drops to a low, hushed rasp as you lean in ever so slightly to hear him better, “Y’know, been missin’ you these last few days, bebita. Better have a good excuse.”

He punctuates the statement with a wink and a smirk, a teasing lilt obvious in his voice. A strong hand engulfs the door handle before you can reach for it, opening it and nodding for you to step in ahead of him.

“Ladies first,” he reminds, licking his lips as you look up at him with a quick, whispered reply.

“Think you know I’m not always a lady, Javier.”

He can’t stop watching you the whole class. He knows it’s an issue, that surely it’s obvious at points of the entire hour-and-a-half lecture. He knows that you notice his stare, quick flicks of eye contact, and subtle winks sent his way as the corners of your lips curl up in a smirk.

All he can think about is getting you alone — finally alone again — and teaching you a thing or two, like you requested, of course.

When he glances at you next, you’re staring down at your notebook, oblivious to his attention; the end of your pen is tapping against your bottom lip, your brows knitting together in what looks like confusion while reviewing your written notes. Javier watches as you slip the end of your pen between your lips, licking his own while he sees them pillow against the plastic utensil. The gloss swiped across them shines in the fluorescent lights, and with a flash of the image of your lips around him a couple of weekends ago, his trousers tighten and his mouth dries out.

You look up from your desk to meet his gaze, sharing a knowing smile before he stutters out the next point of his lecture. Clearing his throat, he shakes his head to himself and peels his eyes away from you, keeping them away for the rest of the session to attempt to calm down before he has to walk out in front of all the students with a bulge in his tight trousers.

At the end of class, he announces that he’ll be rescheduling his office hours to this afternoon, to start shortly after he releases everyone for the session. You quickly catch his eyes, the corner of his mouth ticking up with a subtle smirk and a quick wink while the rest of the students pack up their things. Some linger to ask quick questions, but you’re out the door before he can grab your attention again, his eager stance deflating. He wanted you to stay, to talk to you before sitting through all his other office hour appointments before he’s able to see you.

It’s about an hour of talking through fifteen-minute appointments with other students, both graduate and undergraduate, about their upcoming midterm assignments or exams for his courses. He can’t help but roll his eyes each time these students ask for extra credit or make-up notes for the classes that they have missed — most of these kids haven’t bothered to show up since syllabus week. The clock to the left of the door ticks away, and he sweeps up the conversation with the sophomore sitting across his desk once fifteen minutes exactly hit, ushering him out the door and promising another meeting before the midterm, but that he has another appointment to get to.

Taking a breath once the student is heading down the hallway, he combs his eyes around the area outside of his office, his attention being pulled to quick footsteps down the corridor. His eyes take in Dr. Martens, slightly beat up and well-worn, black sheer tights snaking up your legs to the mid-thigh hem of your skirt. Trailing up your dress to the exposed skin at your collarbone, Javi licks his lips.

“Sorry, I’m a little late, Professor Peña. Rushed over here when I realized what time it was sitting in the library,” you apologize, a soft smile on your face holding back the playful glint in your eyes.

“No problem, the last student ran a bit over his appointment time. Please, c’mon in.” Javier gestures for you to walk ahead of him into the open door of his office, watching you glance around the space as he shuts the door behind him. At the click of the handle into place, Javi strides over to you and grabs at your hips, leaning down to catch your lips in a heated and rushed kiss.

His larger frame looms over you, your hands finding his shoulders as your body relaxes into his grip. Javi guides you backward to his desk and around it, pressing you up against the edge of the wood.

“Fuck, bebita, jus’ couldn’t take my eyes off of you the whole fucking day. Look so sweet in your dress. Wanted to rip it off you and take you right there. Let everyone know whose girl you are,” he rasps against your lips, dragging his own along your jaw and working a love bite underneath your ear. A whimper pulls from your throat, leaning your head back for easier access as you squeeze your thighs together.

“Bet you’d like that, huh?” The smirk in his voice is evident, cockiness coating his words as he asks the rhetorical question. “Mi zorrita (My little slut) wants everyone to know who makes her feel so good, doesn’t she?”

“Y-Yes, I want everyone to know that it’s you…” you sigh out when Javier’s lips suck at your collarbone, hunched over you while his bulge presses into your thigh.

“You’d do that if I asked, like a good girl. But you’re all mine, bebita. Don’t want anyone else having you like I do.”

Guilt burns in your chest when he says that; you know he isn’t seeing anyone else, he’s said as much. You’ve dodged the question, avoiding the confrontation of telling him he’s one of a few because then you’d have to explain how he isn’t one of the few — how something with him is different, deeper, makes you long for him when he’s away.

And confessing all of that makes your stomach turn.

Instead of responding with words, your hand curls into his hair, the other resting against his chest and pulling him back up to your face. Kissing him hurriedly, you take the moment of distraction to push him back and down into his desk chair. You fold over him, keeping your lips attached to his and sighing when you feel a rumble of a moan from him when your hand at his chest drops down to palm him through his pants.

“Y’know, you asked for a Spanish lesson, bebita. D’you still want to learn something?” Javier asks, his head pulled back to rest against the seat back. You give him a ‘yes’, kneeling in front of his seat and scraping your nails against his strong thighs.

“Eres mío? Eres mi buena chica? Qué vas a hacer por mí? (Are you mine? Are you my good girl? What are you gonna do for me?)” Javier brushes his fingers against your cheek as he looks down at you. You take a beat to translate his questions in your head, a smirk growing on your face while you unbuckle his belt and undo his button and zipper on his trousers.

“Te voy a hacer sentir bien. (I’m going to make you feel good).” Javier grins down at you when you answer, sighing in relief when you pull his dick out from his boxers. His hand is still at your face, eyes darkening when you look at him.

“Una chica tan lista. My smart girl,” he exhales the last syllable when you swipe your tongue up the underside of his cock, his fingers running against your hair and moving to the back of your head. “Ahora chupa, mi zorrita. (Now suck, my little slut.) Show me what you can do.”

Following his instructions, you take Javi into your mouth, teasing the head of his cock with your tongue. Your hand wraps around the base of him, slowly stroking as you feed more of him into your mouth, all the way until he hits the back of your throat.

Exhaling out of your nose, you take a moment before starting to bob your head in time with your hand. The sounds coming from Javi sitting over you are delicious, the actions and the noises making your saliva drip from the corners of your lips and down his shaft, squelching with the motions of your hand. The hand of his at the back of your head starts to guide you, pushing you down an inch further to press the tip of him into your throat.

“Fuck, bebita, taking my cock so fucking well. Such a good girl for me, my dirty girl.” You hum in acknowledgment and squeeze your thighs together, readying yourself to deepthroat him when there’s a sharp knock on his office door. Javi’s hand holds your head still, looking down at you and whispering expletives as he glances around the room. The knob starts to turn when he calls out, “One sec!”

You pull off of him and open your mouth to whisper, but Javi shakes his head and holds his index finger up to his lips.

“Quiet, baby. There’s nowhere else for you to go, jus’ get under the desk and I’ll get rid of whoever it is quick, okay?”

You nod and crawl into the alcove of his desk, sitting on your knees with your back to the panel that hides you from the rest of the room. Javier wheels his desk chair closer to the desk, his legs on either side of you trapping you in. Eye-level with his still aching cock, your mouth waters, and breath hitches when the door finally opens and a voice comes booming in.

“Javier! Agent Peña! Big Man on Campus! How the heck are ya?” Dean Banks greets Javi with a laugh, striding into his office confidently. He rolls his eyes at the Dean, clearing his throat and scooting one leg closer to you under the desk.

“Dean Banks, nice to see you. I’m fine, how are you?” The polite conversation sparks an idea in your head to distract Javier, licking your lip and leaning in closer. You blow a warm breath over his cock, watching it twitch with the sensation and making Javier’s leg jolt.

“I’m doing great — we’ve gotten some glowing midterm reviews for your courses so I thought I would stop by to give you the good news! And to check in and see how you’re doing with the first full semester you’ve had here so far.” Dean Banks wanders around his office, staying in front of the desk as he pokes at all the books on the shelves lining the walls. “Haven’t gotten mixed up into, uh, those extraneous circumstances we discussed have you?”

Javier opens his mouth to answer at the same time you take him back between your lips, plunging your head down to take half of him in one quick go. The words catch in his throat and he quickly clears it to cover up the noise.

“No, absolutely not, sir. Been focused on, uh, teaching and setting all of my students up for—success. I was just finishing up with my office hours before you walked in.” Javier’s hand searches for you under the desk to pull you away, but you grip both of his hands in your position of power, holding them down as you continue to suck his dick hidden away from view.

“Hm, didn’t see any students walking out in the hallway or out of your office. Must have missed them.” Dean Banks turns his back to Javier and he glances down at his lap to look at you with a glare, mouthing ‘Knock it off’.

In an act of defiance, you take full advantage of the dynamic to make eye contact with him before taking his cock in its entirety down your throat. You gag around it and Javier coughs and groans out of a sudden reaction. The Dean turns around quickly, a puzzled look on his face.

“Y’alright there, Peña?”

Javier nods quickly, wiping the subtle sweat built up by nerves on his forehead and takes a deep breath while you continually take him deep in your throat and move your head up and down his length.

“Yeah, yeah. Just got a, uh, a….headache.”

The Dean nods and claps his hands together, walking toward the door, “Well I won’t keep you for any longer then, better get home and get some rest. Glad to hear there are no issues with your new course. Chat soon, Big Man.”

Javier rolls his eyes again at the Dean’s back when he exits and pulls the door closed behind him. It’s another beat before the coast is clear enough and Javier wheels his chair back, you walking on your knees to keep him in your mouth. His chest is breathing deep, looking up at him through your lashes. Unimpressed anger is painted across his face, a stern shake of his head before his voice comes out low and intimidating, making your thighs squeeze together to feel your panties cling to your wetness.

“Thought that was funny, bebita? Doing that while we had company? Pequeña mocosa. (Little brat.)” Javier ticks his tongue in his mouth and pulls you off of his cock, strings of spit connecting you to his still-aching cock. “Y’know, I should just bend you right over this desk and fuck you full of me, so you have to walk around all day with me dripping out of you. How’s that sound for payback, huh?”

Your mind is reeling with the thought of him fucking you against his desk, a whimper sounding in your throat and your thighs rubbing together for any bit of relief. A hand of yours moves to go between your legs, desperate to touch yourself, but Javier quickly grabs it, hooking your other hand with his larger one and bringing them both above your head.

“Oh, but mi zorrita would like that though, wouldn’t she? Not much of a punishment. Guess I’ll just have to fuck your mouth and come down your throat then.”

He stands from his chair and kicks it away behind him, tugging you closer and to sit taller by your hands above your head. The unoccupied hand grips his cock at the base, positioning himself in front of your face, tapping the head of his cock against your plush bottom lip.

“Open, angel. If you’re gonna be a brat, una mocosa, m’gonna fuck you like one.”

No more protests are had from you, opening your mouth as wide as possible and humming around Javi when he slips into your mouth. He sighs, tilting his head back toward the ceiling with a quiet moan. After a second of being still, halfway filling your mouth, he looks down at you again and starts to thrust his hips — slowly and shallow at first before his patience snaps and he moves quicker and deeper.

His cock hits the back of your throat each time, a bruising pace making your core throb with a burning desire, imagining the same feeling but inside of your pussy. You moan around him, choking when he gets the deepest you’ve had him ever, gagging harshly and swallowing around him to attempt to recover.

Javier is blinded with pleasure, soft begs of your name repeatedly falling from his lips before he gives you another hard fuck to your throat, one last gag before he’s pulling back and spilling ropes of his come onto your tongue. He pulls out, the last few painted across your lips as he looks down at you, breathless while his chest heaves and drops your hands from his grip.

“Fuck, bebita, such a little fucking slut taking me like that.”

In the midst of your own recovery, you stick your tongue out to show him before swallowing his spend, coughing quietly. Javier quickly grabs a few tissues and sits in his desk chair, gingerly wiping off the evidence of his punishment from your face. It’s silent between you two while you watch him focus on the task, reaching a hand up to wrap your fingers around his wrist.

“M’sorry if I was too rough, angel. Caught a bit too caught up there…” he avoids your eyes, tossing aside the Kleenex and tucking himself back into his trousers.

“I liked it,” you confess, standing up from your knees and straddling his lap in his chair as you sit down. “Liked it a lot, actually. I wanna be that for you, like an escape. Turn your brain off, 'cause we both know you overthink everything.”

You run your fingers through his hair and he chuckles, nodding before he kisses you sweetly.

“Thank you, bebita. Such a good girl for me. So sweet,” he muses, giving you another kiss, “Now how about we actually learn some Spanish for your exam?”

The next week is spent either on the phone with Javi in the evenings, when you’ve returned home from any other dates scheduled, or out with him, finding hole-in-the-wall bars and restaurants to avoid any eyes from around campus. Each time you see his name on your caller ID, or see his truck pull up outside of your apartment complex to pick you up, your heart starts with a quickened pulse, dopamine firing in your brain and giving you that stuck in lov—

No feelings. You remind yourself each time you get that serotonin increase, simply excusing it as you enjoy your time with him and the pleasure he eagerly gives you whenever you give to him.

It’s hard not to allow yourself to feel around him; Javi makes it so easy to indulge. Little moments like him calling the mechanic and getting the cost of your repairs brought down, driving you over to pick it up and paying for it himself to make sure they didn’t haggle anymore; ordering your favorite drink if he arrived at a bar or restaurant before you, or getting you something new that he thought you would enjoy; a hand on your back or waist or encompassing your own, guiding you without overpowering. Small gifts given; new books purchased when you’ve browsed bookstores he’s found for you, new favorite dresses or lingerie filling your closet that Javier claimed were as much gifts for himself as they were for you.

His care was ever present, not overwhelming until it came to the point that you thought about him and how much he was there, integrated into your life and habits and moments of joy.

Absolutely terrifying. But you couldn’t stop.

And he was feeling like he couldn’t stop either.

He didn’t know if he was overdoing it all with you, new to this sort of arrangement and its usual boundaries, but he hoped that the fact that you kept laughing and smiling, initiating kisses or more with him, that you were enjoying yourself as much as he was.

There were tiny snapshots where he caught himself thinking about, feeling more for you. When you sneak into his office on the days you have other classes, steal minutes with him before you have to go across campus or he has to go teach or to a department meeting. To-go cups of black coffee on your handful of morning dates at the weekend, a reminder that you made observations about him just as he was you. When you stood up for him, defended him when the other student was spreading rumors. Sure, they were true, and he’d told you as much, but to hear your subtle protectiveness was warming his long cold heart. 

He hadn’t felt like this before, and he never thought he would have the chance. Colombia had jaded him, hardened him to stone, but you were slowly chiseling away to reveal his moldable core, reshaping him into a person he knew before and at the same time, a person who was only becoming familiar these days.

Could this be love? If he didn’t know how you felt or where you stood? He never thought he was in love before, and this confirms those thoughts. Never has he felt like this, never has he been so clumsy and boyish in his relationship at times.

It’s a Thursday evening, and his classes for tomorrow are scheduled to have a break to give them more time to study for midterms. Fiddling with his phone in his hands, he wonders what you might be up to, going back and forth over whether or not to call.

Before he can think anymore, he’s finding your contact, brought straight to the top of the list when he changed the name to ‘Bebita’, and hits the green phone button.

The line rings a few times, cutting out with an answer and a rustle over the microphone before he hears your voice.

“Hi, Javi.” He can hear you sigh, sensing an edge of stress or impatience in your tone.

“Hey, bebita. You busy tonight? I wanna see you.”

“Oh, Javi, I don’t know if I can make tonight work. I’m using this weekend to study for all my midterms and to finish writing all my essays due next week and…I don’t really have time, m’really sorry,” you sound timid, exhausted and it makes him on edge, his brain immediately centering on how he can make you feel better.

“Do you need help with anything, cariño? Can I do anything?” He sits up on the couch, standing in the next moment to pace near his boots and his keys laid out on the counter, ready to pounce when you say the word.

“Oh, gosh, I don’t know…I feel like I can’t even think about making my dinner right now. I’m sorry.”

The coating of your voice and the sniffle through the phone are unmistakable; you’re on the verge of tears attempting to think of what he can do, the avalanche of stress you’re feeling. A crack sharpens across his heart, hands craving to hold you close and to fix it all for you.

“Oh, bebita, dulzura, you don’t have to apologize to me. I wanna spend time with you, help you. Don’t need to be going out or doing anything else than just sittin’ with you,” he nests his phone between his shoulder and ear while he slips his boots on, “Do you mind if I come by? If it stresses you out, you can tell me to leave but if I’m there maybe I can find something to help with.”

It’s quiet on the line while you consider, another sniffle nearly sending him out the door without your actual answer.

“Okay, yeah. You can come over. But I look like a mess and my apartment looks like a tornado went through it and I might cry in front of you.”

Javier chuckles and shakes his head while he grabs his phone with his hand to keep it against his ear. His free hand grabs for his keys, plucking his jacket off the coat rack and already walking out the door.

“Don’t worry about any of that, bebita. M’here to help you, I wanna take care of you,” he hears a hum of acknowledgment from you, “I’ll be there in like half an hour, alright? Gotta make a couple stops while I’m out and then I’ll be there for you, okay?”

“Okay…” you say quietly, “Thank you, Javi.”

“I’ll see you in a bit, angel.”

Exactly thirty minutes later, a knock raps on your front door, strong and short. Glancing up at the entrance, you see the lock turned and call out loud enough to be heard in the hallway.

“It’s open!”

The door unlatches and swings open, the rustle of bags hitting your ears before the sight of Javi hits your eyes. He juggles the thin plastic handles of the grocery haul in his hands, shaking his head as he pushes the door closed behind him with his boot-clad foot.

“Don’t like that you're keeping your door unlocked, bebita. S’not safe, what if I wasn’t me?” The strict, skeptical agent shows through — paranoia in his eyes while he sets down the bags on your counter, walking back over to lock the door and shrug off his black leather jacket. Underneath his outerwear, the black short-sleeve button-up clings to his torso and stretches at his shoulders. It’s tucked into his usual jeans with his belt on display, and one look exchanged with him reminds him to kick off his shoes — baby blue socks with small figures of different types of dogs patterning the surfaces of them.

“Hello to you, Javier,” you chuckle and turn back to your books, continuing to read over the chapter summary you were engrossed with before his entrance.

His sock-covered feet pad softly over to you at your dining table, taking in the sight of you before he stands behind you, leaning down to kiss the top of your head.

“Hi, bebita.” He smiles when you lay your head back to look up at him behind you, grinning and giggling when he leans over again to kiss you. “Missed you.”

“I’m just giving you shit.” A laugh leaves your mouth in quiet breaths when he rolls his eyes, steps back to your kitchen counter and starts to unpack everything. You pull yourself away from the table to follow him over, shaking your head at all of the snacks, drinks, and extra pens and notecards spilling out of the bags. “Gosh, Javi. How much stuff did you get?”

He glanced at you sheepishly, shrugging, “Didn’t know what you might want, so kind of got everything I thought you’d like.”

One hand lands on his bicep closest to you, turning his attention to you for you to lean up and kiss him sweetly. You can feel your heart in your throat at the expanse of his thoughtfulness, truly wanting to come over to help without any other expectations.

“I like your socks, by the way.” Another kiss is stolen before you’re back to the table, plopping down and attempting to fall back into studying. A long sigh leaves your lips and Javi frowns when he looks over at you, hyper-focused on all the text laid out in front of you. He putters around your kitchen, poking through to find plates and silverware to keep from asking you; dishing up the takeout he got after putting away the snacks and drinks, he walks back over and sets a plate down in front of you.

“Pause for a few minutes, angel, you gotta eat. And I got your favorite from that Thai restaurant we went to last week.” Javi takes the seat at the corner next to you, pulling away your books to clear a spot for you to eat. The look on your face is painful when you pick up the fork as if any more energy expended for a task other than studying is too much to handle.

“Thank you, Javi. Really. I think it would have been one of those eating shredded cheese from the bag or potato chips over the sink kind of nights if you didn’t come.”

“No need to apologize, bebita. M’always here for you,” he speaks tenderly with a smile, the two of you making light conversation while you eat. Before he clears the plates back to the kitchen, he takes your hand lying on the surface and toys with your fingers. “You can tell me to fuck off and I won’t be offended, but I’ll stick around for a few minutes in case you need me, okay?”

Immediately you shake your head and grip his hand in yours, “No, please stay. D’you mind helping me study? Like quizzing me or something? I want….I want you to stay here. Please.”

Javier holds back a wide smile, giddiness kicking up inside him. He clears his throat and nods, squeezing your hand. He stands up and bends forward to kiss your forehead, “Course I’ll help you study, angel. Let me clean up all this and then we’ll get started, yeah?”

It’s for the next couple of hours that Javier studies with you, asking you sample exam questions from the textbook and quizzing you with the notecards that you’ve made. He keeps you supplied with snacks and hydrated with water, intermittently joking with you to keep you relaxed.

It’s about eleven o’clock at night, Javi’s been here for four hours, and the rest of the weekend is ahead of you both. He’s sitting at the kitchen table, newly made notecards in his hands while you pace the kitchen in front of him. A hand runs through your hair, tugging and sighing when you can’t remember.

“God, I don’t—I don’t know…” You continue your pacing and shake your head, feeling your heart rate increase and your throat start to constrict with anxiety. The hand in your hair moves to press against your chest. “I really don’t know, shit, can you—can you tell me please?”

“Lombroso’s concept of a born criminal is atavism.”

The next few cards you also forget or get wrong and after the last incorrect answer, you stop in the tracks of your pacing. Angry tears of frustration burn at your eyes, words caught in your throat, and breaths come out short and harsh. Javier looks up at you when your movement stops, brows knitting together with concern when he sees the tears in your eyes and hears the clipped inhales and exhales.

“Bebita, c’mere.” Javi pats his lap and you shuffle over, straddling his legs and sitting in his lap to face him. “Let’s call it for tonight. We have all weekend to get you feeling confident for the exam, but trying to push yourself anymore tonight is only going to make you feel worse.”

“But—"

Javier shakes his head and brings his hands up to cradle your face, thumbs swiping away the few tears that have fallen.

“No, no ‘buts’. There’s no need to be getting upset about it. You’re exhausted and overworked, you’ve been doing this all day. And you know all of this, I know you do, angel. You’re too tired to concentrate and you need to rest.”

“God, I wish I could turn my brain off. This is all I’m gonna be thinkin’ about.”

“I can help with that, bebita.” Javier’s hands run up and down your thighs, snaking around to palm your ass with a gentle squeeze.

“Oh, yeah? And how would you do that?” You play dumb, feigning innocence to his suggestion. Brow cocked up, mouth pursued in curiosity.

“Hm, think we both know what I would do, but m’happy to tell you.” His hands roam again, trailing up your sides to cup under your breasts through your flimsy t-shirt. Your nipples pebble underneath the material when his thumbs brush over them, a satisfied smirk on his face at the sight. “I’ll take you into your bedroom. Kiss you, play with you until you’re dripping for me. And then I’m gonna use my mouth on you, jus’ like the first time, and make you come for me over and over until I think you’re ready. And when you’re begging for me, I’ll give you exactly what you want, bebita. My sweet zorrita is gonna get exactly what she needs — a good fucking.”

Your hips start to grind into his lap, nodding slowly as you listen to him and whining quietly as your eyes close. His hands stall your motions, bringing your attention to him as he admires you from below.

“Let’s go, baby. Think you need it now,” he rasps out, helping you up from his lap and following close behind you. His hands stay at your hips while you walk ahead of him at a delayed pace, his lips kissing and teeth biting at your neck. Trailing down the hallway, he slowly undresses you, leaving each article of clothing on the floor in your wake. Once the two of you reach your bedroom, he turns you toward him and kisses you hurriedly, moaning against your lips when he feels your hand palm him over his jeans.

Javier pulls himself back from you, shaking his head as he steps you backward to hit the edge of your bed, pushing you to sit and nodding to the center of the mattress. You scoot back a bit until he stops you in place, getting onto his knees at the side of the bed and hooking your legs over his shoulders.

He unbuttons a few of the top buttons on his shirt, loosening the material around his shoulders, and licks his lips as he takes in the sight of your glistening cunt.

“God, bebita, you’re always so ready for me. Whenever I want you. Do I get you that worked up being around you, hm?” His tone is cocky as he speaks, dragging two fingers through your folds and collecting some of your wetness. He slips those fingers in his mouth, working his tongue around them and moaning at the taste of you. The fingers pull out of his mouth with an audible pop, and you get onto your elbows to look at him in the eyes as he pushes those same fingers into your entrance.

“Fuck, Javi…” you moan, rolling your head back as he fucks you with his fingers, shallow and slow at first. He’s mesmerized by the view of you taking it easily, sweet little sounds hitting his ears in a satisfying way. “M-More, please. Pretty please.”

“Only because you asked so nicely, angel.” He chuckles and adds another digit, picking up his speed and getting as deep into you as he can. His other hand uses its thumb to run quick circles on your dripping clit, moaning to himself when your noises get louder and higher pitched. “You close already, bebita?”

“Yesyesyes, fuck, m’gonna come—“ You clench around his fingers, gripping the duvet under your hands.

“Ask, baby. Gotta mind your manners, mi zorrita.”

“Ple—please may I come, Javi? M’so close, oh my god,” you tack a whine at the end, lifting your hips and huffing out a breath when he pushes them back down.

“Go ahead, bebita. Come for me—" You moan his name loudly and squeeze your eyes shut, your walls gripping around his fingers tightly. “Oh, yes, fuck. That’s it, angel, that’s it.”

He works you through your orgasm, your breaths evening out after a minute. Once you’ve come down, you realize he’s inching closer between your legs, lips dragging along your inner thighs. Before you can get a word out, his mouth is on you, sucking your clit harshly. Your whine raises in pitch, hands tangling in his hair to push him away.

When he lifts his head, his dark eyes find yours as he licks his lips.

“Gonna let me taste this sweet little cunt, angelita? Make good on all my promises,” he challenges you and you breathe out a ‘yes’, all the permission he needs to put his head between your thighs.

At his first full taste, a switch flips and he devours you like a starving man — sucking, licking, fucking you with his tongue. You’re writhing under him, one strong hand splayed against your lower tummy to keep you down.

“Javi, oh fuck, feels so fucking good—oh my god, you’re so fucking good at this. Has anyone ever told you that?” You ramble the closer you get and Javi smirks against you, the words egging him on to give you more.

He pulls two conservative orgasms from you with his mouth, sucking your clit and licking into your walls with his tongue. Your brain is slowly shutting off, study materials are completely forgotten, and limbs light as air as you lay back on the bed.

Javier stands from the floor, a soft groan and clicking of his knees drawing your attention to him. He strips down from his own clothes, standing in his underwear and nodding to you on the bed.

“Scoot up, baby — that’s it, good girl.” He smirks when you move languidly, reaching out for him when he climbs onto the bed on his knees. Your arms fall to rest stretched above your head, putting you completely on display for him.

“How d’you want me, Javi?” you purr and it nearly sends him reeling, but he shakes his head and smirks down at you.

“Jus’ like this, babygirl. Wanna be able to see you, watch your pretty face as I take care of you.” Javier reaches his hand toward you, instructing you to lick. He takes the same hand and wraps it around his cock, stroking himself as he spreads your legs with his other hand. Settling between them, he drags the head of his cock through your folds, nudging your overly sensitive clit and chuckling darkly when your thighs twitch.

“Javi, please—" He shuts you up with further teasing, slipping himself inside, just the tip. He hisses from behind his bared teeth, rolling his head back to recover before he gives a few pumps of his hips and pulls out of you completely. The next move he teases your clit again, sliding his cock down to prod at the entrance of your tightest hole before moving back up to your cunt slipping just the tip inside of you again.

Under him, you're twitching and writhing with whines and whimpers, gripping the sheets.

“Javi, please, need you.” You choke out, a soft sob of a moan when he keeps fucking you with only his tip, refusing to give you any more inches. The next word leaves on an exhale before you can think about it, “Daddy…”

“What was that, bebita? Didn’t quite hear you.”

“Daddy, fuck me, please.”

Javier stills for a moment, processing exactly what you said while you’re silent, anxiety heightening with each tick of the clock and his lack of response. His hips are still shallowly fucking you, involuntary whimpers escaping your mouth.

“Daddy, huh? You wanna call me that? Got you so cockdumb before I’ve even given it to you.” His eyes are nearly pitched-black, desire evident in his roaming, worshiping hands.

“Yes, yes please, daddy. I need you, please.” The words catch in your throat and you arch your back for him, tits slightly jiggling with the motion.

“You wanted to work on your Spanish, huh? No daddy, bebita. Llámame Papí (Call me Papí). Say it, bebita. Say it for me, buena chica.” His acceptance of your knee-jerk word spill has your mind melting, clenching your walls around the tip of his cock that’s buried inside of you. “Say it.”

“Papí…” you exhale, the noise choking in your throat when he thrusts hard to fill you up to the hilt. A sobbing moan leaves your mouth when he pulls nearly out of you, only to start a punishing pace fucking you hard and deep.

“That’s right, bebita. M’taking care of you, right? Just like a papí should. You call me that as much as you want, angel. Like hearing it come from you.”

Javier grunts at the strain of how hard he’s fucking you, the sounds of your whines and his groans mixing into a melody with the slaps of skin together. It’s filthy if anyone was looking in, but the thought of that makes him fuck you harder, relishing in the sound of your wetness squelching around his cock.

“God, mi bebita, you are taking my cock so well. You like it? Am I filling you up?”

“Yes—oh my god, taking care of me…”

“That’s right, bebita, M’gonna take care of you. You wanna come on my cock, angel?”

“Yes please, daddy…”

Javi’s hips stutter at you saying it, starting again harder and faster, “Not daddy, bebita. You wanna call me that, you call me Papí, baby. Let me hear you say it.”

“P-Papí, oh my fuck, feels so good. So full, Papí.” You’re rambling under him, incomplete and incoherent thoughts, “Oh, fuck— Just there— Papí, papí, papí, ohmygod right there!”

The name is dripping with sweetness from your lips, snapping something into his brain. He’s desperate to provide for you, to take care of you in any way you need. Right now, that is fucking you dumb enough to forget about your stress. Tomorrow, it’ll be getting you coffee in the morning and helping you reevaluate your study materials.

Underneath him, you’re feeling something of the same, enamored with the man above you. The same one who drove around town to pick up things he thought you would like, feeding you, helping you study. The one who smiles at you in the halls, and calls you his babygirl behind doors. Now, he’s fucking you into oblivion and melting your brain to mush to give you what you need. He grips your legs and presses them to fold at your sides, the adjusted position bringing him deeper than before. The head of him hits that special spot inside of you, over and over until it’s driving you to the edge fast.

“Oh, fuck! Papí! Please—Please, please, please. Gonna come, please may I come, Papí?” Your brain turns on its entire leftover power to ask politely, knowing your manners would still have to be minded with your cockdumb mind.

“Such a good girl, so polite. Come for me, bebita. Let me feel your tight pussy grip my cock.” Javier groans when you let go as soon as you get his permission, relishing in the look on your face with a perfect ‘O’ mouth and walls sucking him in further as his thrusts slow down. The tightness of you brings him to his own peak, feeling precum dribbling out inside of you as he gets as close to the edge as possible.

“Oh fuck, fuck, angel. Gonna fucking come, where d’you want me?” His brow knits together with a look of pain, and you breathlessly answer.

“Outside, please, Papí. Anywhere else you want.”

He nods and pulls out of you, using his fist to fuck himself, painting his come across your torso in long ropes. Javier moans your name over and over under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut as his chest heaves with relief.

It’s quiet, nothing spoken while you both crash down. In a moment of clarity in his post-orgasm haze, he stretches over to your nightstand to grab a few tissues, wiping you clean of his spend. He tosses it in your desk trash bin, searching around the floor for his clothes. When he picks up his boxers, you make a small noise of protest and grab his attention.

“Don’t—Um, would you—" You can’t get the words out, shyness clawing at your throat. Javier fills in the blanks, smiling softly at you as he drops his boxers and climbs back onto your bed over your lying form.

“D’you want me to stay, bebita?”

You nod and smile sheepishly, wrapping your arms around his neck and grinning wider when he leans down to kiss you chastely.

“Can you ask me, angel?”

“Will you have a sleepover with me…Papí?” you giggle as you tack on the name at the end, Javier smirking and nodding his head.

“Of course I’ll stay. And if you keep pulling that out all the time, there’s going to be a lot of fucking in random places. Jus’ does something for me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm. Think you know that, bebita. Mi bebita.” 

“Well, that does the same thing for me.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm. I like being your bebita.”

“Siempre, Bebita. Always gonna be it.” Javier punctuates the conversation with another kiss, laying down completely next to you and wrapping you up in his arms. His fingers play with your hair, laying your head on his chest as you close your eyes.

A thought pops into your head, picking up your head to look Javi in the eyes.

“Are you gonna be going to the department event next week?”

“That’s what you’re thinking about right now, angel?”

“Yes, now please answer.” You poke his chest, giggling when he pinches your side playfully.

“I will be there, yes, Bebita. I’m assuming you’re going too?” He asks as he closes his eyes, exhaustion overcoming him slowly.

You smile and bite your lip, tracing shapes against his skin, “Well, would you wanna pick out my dress for it?”

That grabs his attention, his eyes shooting open with a grin growing across his face.

“Gonna let me choose what I get to see you in, Bebita? Don’t know if you want that, 'cause I could have you walking around in nothing.”

You snort out a laugh, shaking your head before laying on his chest again and closing your eyes to sleep.

“We both know you wouldn’t do that. Would you really want all those people looking at me? Thought I was all yours, don’t you wanna keep me to yourself?”

“Damn, you’re right. Guess I’ll have to pick out a pretty dress and then I can take you home and have you walk around in nothing for me.” He smiles and kisses the top of your head, sighing out a tired exhale. “Now, sleep time, Bebita. You dream of the pretty dresses I’ll get for you, no exams, and I’ll be dreamin’ about you in nothing.”

A laugh escapes your lips, nodding in agreement, “Goodnight, Javi.”

“Night, Bebita.” There’s more he wants to say, burning in his chest, but he knows it’s too soon — too much right now and it would scare you off. Instead, he holds you closer and kisses your head again, drifting off contently with you in his arms to take care of.

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[littledigits]

That time when working in animation made me realize I needed therapy

Since we're on the topic of overworking / being passionate in animation and blah blah blah.  I want to share my story about working on the first season of Hilda (for context I was the animation director), specifically..how completely garbo my mental health got because 

I INSISTED ON WORKING MYSELF INTO THE GROUND. 

This is a story I've shared when I've had a chance to do lectures or talks, and if there is one really awesome thing that comes with ..weird ..animation clout, its that you can use those powers for good in terms of teaching people about the BS that comes with the job...anyway.

The reason why I like to talk about this is because I insisted on doing it to myself, and that was really got me thinking about the factors that do lead us into over working. Because heres the deal

Hilda season 1 was, without getting into too many details, a heckofatime...especally for the core crew. we were a small group, doing something new because most of us haven't worked on a show before that included pre production. My entire career up to that point had been working on service work for shows that were created in Burbank, so the new pipeline had a ton of challenges. We did all care, and we all believed in the project SOOOO much. I would tell people not to work over time, because I want my team to leave on time - but I was there...a lot. Leaving the studio by 11pm , working through the weekends..it wasnt an uncommon thing for me. sure , it wasnt all the time, but this stuff spans years sometimes so it went in waves. But whenever the challenges came up, i doubled down. because I super believed in it.

  And the thing was - other people told me to stop. I had a lot of valid concerns given to me by my friends and team members who saw how I was burning myself out at both ends. And I thought like, well , its my *choice*.  Its my chance to have a voice and be creative and try to do something different and we all have to push ourselves and yes its HARD but. THATS HOW YOU DO IT RIGHT? surely if I just make sure I’m the one overworking and my team isn't.. that's fine. 

Well, no, I was immensely effecting my team maybe I wasn’t telling them to work late, but they were seeing me get more and more tired and stay later and later.  I thought they would still approach me for help, or if they struggled. But the issues they had they kept to themselves without wanting to put more on my shoulders. Because they *cared* , just as much as I did ..and we all took more on our shoulders then we should have and there were a lot of things that I could have solved had I fostered a better communication environment.  I became really resentful in my head over the smallest things, I actually saw myself becoming a more hateful person and easily annoyed. I came home every day rambling about the frustrations. Now, let me preface this by saying - my mental state did not only have to do with overworking. I had and have things still to unpack, but the control I had over work and the validation I got from it was a coping mechanism for me. I really didnt think i had any worth as a person outside of this job. It basically was a very nasty cycle that didnt stop until ...well I had gotten so bad I had to.  By the end of the first season I was actually incredibly close to quitting . I was in big anxiety attack territory because I was so worn thin- I had started therapy but eventually moved onto getting medication as well and that was what allowed me to stick it out. ( I have the same therapist and I am on the same meds, it was very hard to do at the time, but i cant imagine my life now without making that choice ). After it was done I was immensely supported by the studio and worked part time as a trainer, which is what i requested to give my brain a break. (Only a few of my closer friends knew how bad I was getting but it was pretty obvious I needed to rest) I'm really proud of the work we did and we keep doing on the show, ..and some other people may have gone through something similar and found it was worth it, but thats not me. I still struggle not to fall back into that mindset, but it helps knowing that if i keep myself out of it , i can help my team out of it, because I know they care about this show just as much as I do. I’m not a martyr, I am a leader, and its up to me to keep myself healthy so I can keep my crew healthy.   I always strive to be better, but i get to decide what that looks like - and for me ..better has nothing to do with the image on the screen. Its got more to do with the experience of the people around me. Readjusting those priorities has helped a lot with keeping my head above water and not add to the pressure that makes it so hard not to get sucked down in the first place.  I do think its good to talk about though , how our passion and language and drive can lead to a lot of us being a part of this cycle. And if theres one good thing about the challenges, its sharing them so at least others can learn faster then you did ;) . take care of yourself friends.

[lovecarisi]

Mistakes We Knew We Were Making

Chapter 2: The Unraveling

Two weeks. Two weeks you had told him to wait. If he was still thinking about you then, he could call. Otherwise, he shouldn’t bother. And you had meant it. You had not saved his number, only given him yours.

Dominick had assured you that he would call but truth be told, you didn’t know his character from a quickie behind a boathouse in South Hampton. Promises were made and broken in the heat of a moment like that. Careless words were spoken all the time when there were no obligations involved, no strings attached. And it would have been no big deal.

You didn’t know anything about him except that he was studying criminal law at Fordham, lived somewhere in Williamsburg, and had stumbled onto the Hamptons scene that weekend the same way you had - some friends had dragged him there. Other than the way he was so magnetic and you wanted him with every fiber of your being, you didn’t even know if it was a physical attraction or more than that. However, you would have been lying to yourself if you didn’t admit to the fact that you spent every day of those two weeks thinking about him. Cursing yourself for telling him to wait. Hoping he would call. Even if it would end up being just a good old-fashioned booty call. Yes, you would still see him around somewhere if he didn’t call but it would hurt your pride. For him to have made you feel the way he did that night and never be acknowledged again? Sure you would cope eventually but not after a few weeks of utter bitterness and self-loathing. Ugh, once again you cursed his name for the millionth time these past two weeks. What a fool you had been.

__________________

You are sitting at your desk at the law firm’s office where you work part-time, typing away at an email reply. Two clients enter the room and you look up, smiling politely at them. 

‘Mister Phillips is ready for you, gentlemen. Would you care for some coffee?’ you offer.

They return your smile but shake their heads, and close the office door behind them in a rush. You sigh in relief, turning back towards the computer screen only to be interrupted by your phone vibrating on silent. You stare at the unknown number slightly annoyed but pick up with an exasperated ‘Yes?’

‘Guess this is a bad time, huh?’ you hear him chuckle on the other end.

Fuck. 

Fuck.

FUCKFUCKFUCK!

You draw in a sharp breath and sit up straight as though you just got caught doing something naughty. It’s him. Dominick. 

What the-. Your work had actually distracted you, kept you so busy you had forgotten about what day it was. For once in those two weeks you had not thought about him in a hot second.

‘It’s you.’ You feel so silly but you actually cannot believe he is really calling.

‘Well…you told me to call in two weeks. It’s been two weeks. And I’m afraid I haven’t stopped thinking about you. So I was hoping to see you again. Please say yes.’ 

He sounds like a little boy asking for his favorite toy back after it’s been taken from him. It makes you weak immediately, flashbacks to him and you together, skin on skin. Oh lord.

‘Yes.’ is all you manage to mutter. Girl, control yourself. You swallow hard, you’re sure he can hear it.

‘I’m so glad. Are you free tonight?’ The urgency in his tone of voice makes you feel so powerful, maybe he can’t control himself either.

‘I’ll text you my address.’

When you hang up you are shaking. There it is again that feeling in the pit of your stomach, spreading down between your legs. Your mind is racing. You actually can’t believe it. He had been waiting to call you. He had been thinking about you. In fact, in his own words, he had not stopped thinking about you. Your whole body is suddenly trembling with anticipation and disbelief. Is this really happening? The way he had so nonchalantly admitted to more or less obsessing over you the way you had over him. The way he had practically begged to see you. Oh boy, would you make it worth his while.

You finish early on Fridays so you run out of the office, stopping by your local grocery store to pick up some essentials, including a bottle of wine, before coming home to your small Bushwick apartment. Good thing is, you still have hours before Dominick gets here, bad thing is, you still have hours before Dominick gets here. Your anxiety is already through the roof and you kind of want to smoke some weed but you’re scared it will make it worse. 

So instead you take advantage of the luxury of having a bathtub and spend an hour soaking among lavender-scented bubbles. Looking down at your naked body, imagining him touching you again, and you have to hold back from touching yourself at the thought of it. Like you have so many times during the past two weeks when these thoughts had taken over. It was the way he had known exactly how you liked it, even the things you yourself hadn’t known you liked yet. 

It had never been this good with anyone before, even your ex-boyfriend of three years. He had never been able to even want you to open up like this because it was clear from the beginning that he was more interested in his own needs and wants. But you had hoped that you could coax it out of him by giving into whatever he demanded because after all, it was love, right? Or at least you thought it was. And yes, he had made you cum, most of the time. And yes, he had gone down on you. Even though you always felt like it was more of a chore to him than something he had enjoyed while you had to pretend that sucking his dick was something you relished when he more or less forced you into it. Either way, he never made you feel sexy, he never made you feel like the most important person in the room, like all eyes should be on you; like a woman, like a man should make you feel. Instead he liked to keep small, keep you in your place, talked over you to make himself look smart and important. So eventually, it all faded away between you two. And that was putting it mildly. You don’t like to think about it too much, it takes you to a dark place you don’t want to go. 

You don’t miss being in a relationship. In fact, you’re not looking for one. Whatever this is, is going to be, or not, between you and Dominick, you aren’t ready for anything serious. 

8pm on the dot, your doorbell rings. The spritz of perfume you just sprayed behind your ear still lingers in the air as you rush down the hallway to press the button on the intercom. Soft footsteps on the stairs. Your heart is pounding. You check yourself in the mirror one last time. No fancy outfit, nothing revealing. Just a simple gray cotton off-the-shoulder dress, your hair in a messy bun, soft make-up. Why bother when he already had your pussy in his face, right? Why bother when he for some reason already thinks you are the sexiest little thing?

He’s holding a small wicker basket full of fresh strawberries, the sweet scent overwhelming as you open the door to greet him. 

‘What-‘ you raise your eyebrows at him.

‘I think flowers are overrated and well…I passed a farmer’s market earlier on my way home, so. I hope you’re not allergic or are one of those rare people who hate strawberries.’ he’s babbling. He’s nervous. How cute. 

‘I love strawberries.’ you reply, as you pick one from the basket and grab his arm, pulling him in. The fruit is absolutely bursting with flavor as you bite into it. ‘Delicious.’ you smile, making it clear you’re not just talking about the strawberry.

‘Well, I’m glad.’ he smiles back at you.

‘Thank you.’

He follows you into the living room/kitchen area, his eyes tracing your body and your adorable little banter quickly gives way to that familiar heat spreading between you two.

‘Just so you know, I think flowers are overrated too, unless they grow in a field.’ you turn around and properly take him in for the first time since opening the door. 

You can’t believe he’s really here. Standing in your apartment. And he seems to think the same thing. As much as you both were overconfident that night you met, fueled by a bit of alcohol and the excitement of the unknown, you don’t know where to start, or rather where to continue now. His hands seem restless, yours are dying to touch him.

‘Glass of wine?’ you ask because you can’t think of anything else and maybe a few sips will calm your nerves.

‘Sure, thanks.’ he answers as he shrugs off his jacket and you turn to get glasses from the cupboard. 

By the time you have opened and poured the wine, he has wandered over to your bookshelf, scanning the contents. You watch as his fingertips glide over the spines of books, and you can’t explain why it makes your heart beat so much faster all of a sudden. With the glasses in hand you join him, handing him his just as he pulls out Kierkegaard.

‘I don’t know if I’m amused or shocked.’ he looks at you, one eyebrow raised. 

‘And why’s that?’

‘What’s your field of law again?’

‘I never said.’ you challenge him.

He takes a sip of wine and his eyes stare into yours. Damn you, you think.

‘Well can I guess then?’ 

‘Go ahead.’

‘Human Rights.'

Fuck, he is good. Or you’re just too obvious. Your law books aren’t even on this shelf.

‘You figured that out from me reading Kierkegaard?’

‘Oh no. I just really appreciate philosophy.’ 

You purse your lips and he cocks his head and it’s a game you’re playing now it seems. If that first time you told him not to tease, teasing is now all you are both doing. His face is entirely too close to yours and you notice a slight sunburn across his nose, a few freckles dancing there, his lashes too unfairly long for a man as he looks down into your eyes. 

‘Philosophy me this then, Mister. You really couldn’t stop thinking about me?’ your voice is low and you can tell the effect it has on him.

‘Hmm. You left me with quite the thoughts.’ he says, in the same low voice.

‘Can’t imagine what you mean.’ you smirk up at him, putting your glass down on the bookshelf next to his.

He smiles and puts a finger under your chin, raising your head slightly. 

‘I mean….’ he takes a deep breath. ‘I thought about you day and night, wondering what you were doing, what you were eating, drinking, dreaming about. Whether you were feeling happy or sad, stressed or relaxed. What kind of music you were listening to, what kind of books you were reading, what kind of clothes you were wearing. If you were wearing the same perfume you wore the night we met. Whether you preferred the rain of the last few days or if you were hoping for sunshine and the heat. What you were thinking about while waiting in line at the coffee shop. If you were thinking about me? If you were counting down the days hoping I would call, or if you regretted that night? And if you were thinking about me, were you thinking about the way I touched you, the way I kissed you, the way I fucked you? Did you touch yourself thinking about me? Because I did. I got hard the second the thought of you entered my mind.’ 

His mouth is behind your ear now and you are a mess. You are holding back a moan, choked up in your throat. He has once again managed to reduce you to a complete wreck, a dampness spreading between your legs. 

‘Sounds intense.’ you exhale and he smiles as he picks you up, your hands wrapping around his neck, legs around his waist.

You finally find yourself kissing him deeply, his strong arms holding you so tightly you can feel his heartbeat hammering against you. 

‘Just so we’re clear…I never regretted it for one second.’ you say it with every inch of your soul before slipping your tongue into his hot mouth, a moan rumbling within him. 

‘Anything else you wanna clear up? Maybe like…you thinking about me too…and y’know. Touching yourself?’ he tickles your sides and you shriek, punching his arms playfully.

‘Wouldn’t you like to know.’ you tease, and he rolls his eyes.

Somehow you manage to make your way into your bedroom and he puts you down on your bed, his body on top of yours. Your kisses are becoming more intense by the second, your hands sneaking under his shirt, feeling his warm skin, so desperate for more contact. But you have other plans. Pushing him off of you, you crawl back on the bed, telling him ‘Stay there.’ as he attempts to follow. He looks confused but does as you say, an undeniable look of excitement on his face for whatever awaits him. 

You really can’t believe what you’re about to do. But you know it’s gonna make him lose his mind and that is what you set out to do. So you reach under your dress, slowly pulling off your panties before throwing them in his face. He gasps, taking the piece of clothing like it’s a treasure he just unearthed and brings it up to his face, inhaling your scent. You bite your lip, watching him, knowing it’s just step one on his way to absolute unraveling.

Sensuously, you let your hand glide over your body, still just over the fabric of your dress while the other one releases your hair from the bun, letting it fall loose over your shoulders. He doesn’t even blink watching you, just stares at you in utter fascination. There’s a bulge growing in his jeans, you can tell, and god, does it make you feel special. Here’s this breathtakingly gorgeous man and all he wants is you.

‘So, you wanna know if I thought about you, hmm?’ your hand slips under your dress. ‘About that night? About your tongue tasting me? About your fingers exploring me? About your beautiful, big cock inside my wet little pussy? About how you were the best fuck of my life? The only man to ever make my earth shake like that?’ your legs spread a little but still not enough for him to see you. Somehow he’s not trying to, his eyes are fixated on yours, his mouth slightly agape, and you can hear his breathing getting heavier. ‘You wanna know how many times I’ve touched myself thinking about you, wishing you were inside me again? I’ve lost count. I’ve moaned your name into my pillow so many times, Dominick. Dominick. Dominick.’ 

Now you let him see. And he inches closer to you as you rub your clit in small circles, so wet already. He moans your name back at you. Watching you as you insert two fingers into your soaked pussy and start pumping in and out slowly, whimpering with pleasure and you can tell he’s about to fully lose it, it turns you on so much, making you shiver with lust. 

‘And I pretended it’s you. But it could never feel as good. You really fucked me up, baby. You really did.’ you sound almost mad and he catches it, pulling you close as you withdraw from yourself.

‘I’m sorry.’ he apologizes and kisses you again and you claw at his shirt, nearly tearing it off within a second, followed by his jeans while he does the same with your dress. ‘I’m sorry.’ he says again, lips down your neck, across your collarbone. ‘I’m sorry.’

And it’s both of you who unravel. And you knew this was gonna happen. Because yes, he fucked you up but you fucked him up just as badly. 

‘I’m sorry too.’ you whisper, running your fingers through his soft hair as he continues to place kisses downwards, his mouth closing around your nipple, tongue sneaking out to tease. Your back arches and his large hands grab your waist, not even a piece of paper could fit between your bodies. It’s so intimate, and he’s not even inside you yet. He’s in no rush you can tell although he’s as hard as he can get, pressing against your thigh, a wet spot forming on your skin there. It doesn’t matter, he’s lost in you, you’re lost in him. 

When he finally slips inside you, you almost pass out at the sensation, wrapping your legs around his hips to get his full length as deep as possible. He groans into your neck, not moving for a second just letting himself melt with you.

‘Please.’ you whisper in his ear and your voice is shaking and he slowly starts moving, dragging out every thrust. 

‘Fuck.’ he breathes. ‘Longest two weeks of my life.’ and you stare into his eyes with a sheepish grin. 

It’s the hottest sight, Dominick on top of you, moving in and out of you, and you don’t know where to put your hands. His beautiful face, his warm chest, his toned arms, his strong shoulders, his tight ass, you really want all of him at once. And then this feeling he’s giving you where you are joined, his cock dragging along your tight walls, one hand reaching down because he knows how much you like it when his fingers play with your clit. 

‘S-so g-goooood. So fucking good.’ you moan, clenching around him and he furrows his brow in an almost serious way at the sensation of you squeezing him. 

‘You like it when I do that, hmm, babe?’ you ask, wiping a loose curl of hair from his face and he nods, kissing you sloppily. 

And you do it again, and again. As much as you enjoy this slow rhythm, you are dying for him to pick up the pace a little, and this does the trick. He grabs one of your legs and hitches it up higher, opening you wider to him, fucking into you deeper and slightly harder. You let out a loud moan as he hits that spot within you.

‘Is this what you wanted, my sweet?’ and you smirk and affirm. It’s not long before you begin to shudder, whining his name as he presses his sweaty forehead against yours. ‘You really are so beautiful when you cum. All I wanna do is make you cum.’ 

He flicks his thumb over your clit again, pumping his dick so deep inside you, you lose all control over yourself. His eyes are staring into yours and that feeling you get scares you a little but it is all too much now, you have no time to think.

‘Cum for me. I wanna feel you cum. I love how you get even tighter around me when you do. How you shake. No more moaning my name into your pillow all by yourself. I’m here. I’m right here. I’m all yours. Cum for me, baby.’ He thrusts into you again and you uncoil. 

‘Fuck! Dominick!’ you moan, clinging to him as you pulse and shudder with your orgasm. 

He holds you and kisses you and continues to move in and out of you slowly, disregarding the chase for his own pleasure to revel in yours, to extend it even. This man. You cry out in pleasure, he has once again managed to lure the most intense climax from you, and you already know it won’t be the only one tonight. He hasn’t cum yet, it’s like he is holding back and while it makes him the sexiest man on the planet it also makes you want to make him cum even more. So you press your hands against his chest and push him off you, his eyes widen in surprise as you straddle him.

‘Okay.’ he grins up at you as you slowly lower yourself on his cock, letting him sink into you. ‘Jeez.’ he gasps and you feel even fuller in this position. 

‘Any last words?’ you smile down on him and he pushes up into you without a warning, making you squeal. ‘Don’t you dare!’ you raise a finger. 

‘You know where you can put that.’ he pokes his tongue out at you and you glare at him in shock before putting your hand over his mouth. 

‘If you don’t shut up I’ll make you wait another two weeks.’ he immediately stays silent, a serious expression on his face as you smile triumphantly and start moving on his throbbing cock. 

‘You don’t mean that.’ he blinks his eyes shut, pleasure taking over as you feel his thighs tense under you. 

‘Please, I wouldn’t survive.’ you reply and his eyes flutter open again, a soft smile on his lips. 

He grabs your hips, gently guiding your movements as you run your hands up and down his torso. ‘You’re gorgeous.’ you whisper and can’t believe he blushes. ‘What? Has no one ever told you that before?’ You drag him in and out of you slowly. 

‘Not like that.’ he pauses. ‘I was always the lanky, skinny kid and girls tended to go for the quarterbacks.’ He looks perfect to you. 

‘Well, I bet they never got dick like this from their quarterbacks.’ you shrug and he giggles until you make him moan again, rolling your hips back and forth a little faster. 

From the way his hands are moving over your body you can tell he’s getting close. They’re restlessly looking for a place to settle, or a place they haven’t touched yet; up your sides, over your breasts, cupping them gently, squeezing, down your stomach to your pussy, over your thighs. You’re close to your next climax too and you know just the thing to send you both over the edge. While you move up and down his cock, you guide your hand down your pussy and start rubbing your clit, Dominick watching you with heavy eyes. 

‘You like what you see, baby?’ 

He can only nod, and the sight of him watching you with his head pressed into the pillow, biting his lip, is so fucking hot. Poor boy is so close but you don’t want to pick up the pace. You’re dragging his cock in and out, painfully slow, circling your clit with your index and middle finger. 

‘Dominick, you feel so good.’ you moan, arching your back, he has the best view of you riding him. 

‘God, you are gonna make me lose it.’ his breath quickens. 

‘Lose it, baby.’ you squeeze his cock with your walls, the beginnings of your orgasm crashing over your body like waves. 

You sit up again and withdraw your fingers from yourself, only to offer them to him and he opens his mouth to taste them, taste you, hungrily. He jerks his hips up, slamming into you, and cums hard, releasing himself inside you with a shudder and the sexiest moan. Your pussy clenches around him as you literally ride out both of your orgasms, the two of you still shaking as he pulls you down onto him. And it’s some kind of insanity just how badly you want to take everything of him in at this moment, even though there’s not much more left to take in. Somehow you still want more of him. More. His lips are on your neck and yours are in his hair and you take in his scent, his heavenly scent that is now on your pillow, in your bed. Your bed. 

You’re breathless and giggling and it’s warm and comfortable although you’re exhausted. 

‘You don’t mind if I spend the night, do you?’ he asks, stroking your back.

Your brain is yelling at you to be careful. That you don’t really want this. That it’s just the endorphins or whatever. It’s nice to be wanted, it’s nice to be taken care of by a man like him, a man who knows how to touch a woman. To make a woman feel special. But you don’t want the complications of something more. Something serious. So you tell yourself, it doesn’t have to be like that. It can still be nice without it being serious. You will be careful. While still enjoying it.

‘Not at all.’ you say, snuggling up to his warm body.

And you ignore the unraveling. 

[xoxoavenger]

Indiana Jones

pairing: Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader

summary: It’s after the final battle, and everyone has their own ways of coping. Y/N will indulge in Steve if he lets her help him.

word count: 907

warnings: injuries, end of season 4

masterlist note: still working on Steve’s problem and also other characters but I thought it was fitting to post this draft on Indy’s weekend.

//

It had been silent for a whole hour.

Everyone was at Steve’s house, quietly grabbing blankets, pillows, curling up together and helping each other put bandaids over their wounds. Nancy had taken Lucas and Max to the hospital, but everyone else had refused. Robin gently wrapped Dustin’s ankle while Y/N wiped the dried blood off of Erica and tucked her into the guest bedroom. When Nancy and Lucas got back, having been kicked out of the hospital due to the flow of people who were coming in with all sorts of injuries, Nancy helped Lucas get some pain meds and cleaned his face before locking herself in the bathroom to deal with her own bumps and bruises.

Steve was sitting on his bed, barely able to sit up on his own. He didn’t even notice when Y/N came in, a bowl of warm water and iodine as well as a cloth in her hands and bandages under her arms.

“Steve?” She said softly, setting everything down on his bare side table - well, bare except for the framed picture of the two of them in a rowboat on Lover’s Lake last year, taken by Robin who was annoyed in the other boat with a random friend she had invited.

“You haven’t cleaned your face.” He looked up at her slowly, and she just shook her head.

“It barely hurts.” This was a lie; although the cut on her eyebrow was no longer pouring blood into her eye, her head ached from where she had been thrown against a wall. “I know you must be hurting.” She began to pull his jacket off and Steve groaned as she peeled it off his arms. She tried to suppress her gasp when she saw the blood soaked shirt, heart racing when she noticed how pale he was.

“No,” He batted her hands away as she tried to peel his shirt off, and she blinked annoyedly. She was exhausted and she just wanted to fix up Steve. “I just wanna sleep. Let me sleep.” He pushed her away, leaning back and groaning as he moved slightly.

“You can sleep after I clean you up.” She began to fight him as she pulled his shirt up, almost gagging as it stuck to him with the blood.

“No,” He pushed her away, and she pressed her lips together in annoyance.

“I know you’re hurting,”

“So let me sleep!” He cried, grabbing her wrists and closing his eyes as he pushed her away. She took a deep breath and reminded herself that Steve was probably running out of adrenaline and was in a world of pain.

“Where does it hurt?” She asked as she finally got his shirt off, beginning to unravel the dirty cloth that she had hastily wrapped around him in the UpsideDown.

“Are you kidding?” He groaned, and all she could think about was that he was so lucky she loved him.

“Fine!” She sat back and crossed her arms. “Where doesn’t it hurt?” Steve smirked at this, opening his eyes and looking at her with some sort of emotion that she hadn’t seen in awhile, one that made her forget the world had just ended. Of course Steve was the only one who could do this to her.

“Well,” He looked suspiciously happy about this, bringing his elbow up to point at it. She rolled her eyes and began looking at the bites on his torso.

“These don’t look infected yet, but we aren’t out of-“

“Aren’t you going to kiss it?” The way Steve was speaking made her think she missed something. He was smiling at her in a way he didn’t usually, like an open mouthed smirk almost.

“Your elbow?” She questioned as he continued pointing. He just nodded and she rolled her eyes, kissing his elbow quickly.

“Also right here.” He pointed to his forehead, the side that wasn’t scratched, and she narrowed her eyes. This seemed familiar.

“Are you trying to Indiana Jones me?” She asked, heart filling with love as he smiled and nodded. She rolled her eyes, leaning in to kiss his lips - knowing that was what he really wanted - before going back to his abdomen.

“Did it work?” He asked, trying to pretend the pain didn’t exist as she dabbed with the cloth, which was rapidly turning red.

“I’ll let you know when you let me finish helping you.” She tells him with a teasing smile, and he sighs as he lays back.

“What if you kissed me again?” Steve asked, and Y/N laughed as he leaned forward, letting him press a kiss to her lips.

“What if you let me finish helping you?” She asked, beginning to bandage him up. He barely let her finish before he was pushing up to kiss her again.

She saw through his facade. She knew he was trying to distract himself from what had happened. But she would let him, because she needed it too. So for one second, she let him pretend to be a world-traveling archeologist. She would be Marion, and they would kiss while they pretended they were on a boat after the perfect adventure.

As they laid down, Y/N slanted diagonally to be away from Steve’s wounds as he put his arms around her, and she kissed his chest before falling asleep. They would deal with the aftermath tomorrow. They would mourn tomorrow. They would figure out the next step tomorrow. But tonight, Steve was Indiana Jones.

//

tags: @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @roxaya @sadbitchfangirl @gloryekaterina @oblivion-void @alexshaff2002 @m-rae23 @freezaz123 @mads-weasley  @johnricharddeacy @sweetdreamsshifter @param8re @ashlynhasmanyhyperfixations @wish-upon-a-star-1310 @xxhellfiregirlxx @parkershoco @feelinglikeineedlotsofnaps @peculiarwren @fangisms 

[decimadragonoid]

I finished watching the entire Planet Namek and Frieza saga in the original Dragonball Z Funimation dub with Kikuchi's musical score last weekend. And after seeing Guldo in action and feeling how much potential he could've had as a character, I decided to create my own Boulean character: Dulien. I haven't really started his backstory yet, but what I

can

say is that he's not affiliated with Frieza, has a story that correlates with the Planet Namek saga, or has any affiliation with the main cast. Well, not yet, at least. In fact, his concept is more non-canon and just for fun more than anything else.

Another thing I can tell you is that he more or less has the same powers as Guldo and his entire Boulean race, but he has more control over them and has more potential, given how calm and collected he is when he normally uses them. I dunno, man. I had to do something to cope with my disappointment with how Guldo was handled. Haha! XD

I mean, it's not like it Guldo's character was all THAT bad, but it was just sad that he got wasted too quickly. Plus, I actually found the Boulean race design pretty cool. It's also safe to say that Dulien is a lot taller, smarter, and rotund than the average Boulean. That would probably explain the major outie belly button on his suit! Maybe I'll call this type of Boulean a "Prime Boulean."

Anyway, here's Dulien! So I hope you enjoy! Hopefully I can draw him a bit better next time! Also, don't take off his hat. You don't want to know what's hidden there. Wink-wink! ;)

[The name "Dulien" is actually a pun or wordplay on the durian fruit.]

========

Dragonball Z © Akira Toriyama

Fanart by DecimaDragonoid ======== Please do not hesitate to leave your thoughts and critique in the comment section, as it really helps me think about and improve my style!

[ahnsael]

We got robbed at gunpoint over the weekend.

First time in almost 9 years of our operation that this has happened. When I saw the names of the suspects, I thought, “I know these guys” Not personally, but I am familiar with both.

I haven’t slept in almost 42 hours. I keep replaying it in my mind with different scenarios. If I go to sleep, those scenarios just will play themselves out in my subconscious. I may go a second day without sleep. I haven’t decided yet.

I KNOW this is not healthy. But my work family is my extended family. And they were in danger. AND I WAS ON A BREAK AND HAD NO CLUE WHAT WAS GOING ON UNTIL IT HAD HAPPENED. I feel like I let them down. My adrenaline from the situation hasn’t faded. If I had beenin there with them and not on a break when it happened, I might have closure. 

I know I couldn’t have prevented the situation. But I would have been there with them. And I could have taken the hit (robbery) out of my drawer as a manager easier than it was for her as someone who is a casino attendant.I KNOW it’s’s not my fault (don’t go all Good Will Hunting on me with “it’s not your fault; I KNOW it is not but I am still allowed to feel bad that I wasn’t there for them when they needed me because I wasn’t informed until it was over).

Detectives wanted us to stick around for interviews. After crying on the shoulder of the one I felt I let down the most, they called my name and I said no. When I turned at my name, one detective said “Are you okay” as tears were streaming down my face. I said, “We were just robbed at gunpoint. You tell me if I am supposed to be okay.”

Another manager came in and I filled him in and he mentioned the HOURS of overtime I could have been getting, but I said “but then I would be drinking on the job and that would be bad.” And he said “If you are about to be interviewed by a detective, why are you drinking?”

“Because we were robbed at gunpoint this morning and we all agreed we needed a stiff one after that.”

We coped. We made jokes. We laughed together to keep from sobbing together. We were scared. I am still scared. I told one bos that I would not be getting any sleep and he took that to mean I was calling off and said “we’ll figure something out.” I had to reiterate that I would indeed be showing up to work, but that I would be emotional. I recognize the two who pulled guns on my extended work family.

They said that if we called the cops they would come back and shoot us all. I didn’t know that until AFTER I had called 911 to report the robbery. After another employee (he didn’t know the threat either) and I both called 911, deputies were EVERYWHERE. We went into lockdown mode. We chained and padlocked the doors shut (I was the one to do that, knowing that it might mean I would be the one to die if they did come back since deputies were already all over the place looking for them).

But the worse part was not being there for my extended family at work. If you know, you know. And ifyou don’t know, now you know.If you don’t see your coworkers,even the ones you don’t like, as extended family (who agrees with their uncle on everything?), you are in the wrong job. The fact that I wasn’t there for them hurts me.

I know it’s not my fault. Don’t you DARE tell me there is nothing I could have done. I know it’s not on me that I didn’t know what was happening. But I am still allowed to feel bad that I wasn’t there to take one for the team. My drawer would have gotten them a lot less money. Even if they knew about my second separate drawer with back up cash. I would have given them that too, if they mentioned it. They still would have gotten a lot of money, but not as much as they got.

One shot at a cop. He hit the cop’s car door and not the deputy. Thank goodness.

But my mom looked up an article and I saw the names and I immediately thought , “I know exactly who they are.” They were regular sports bettors. So apparently while they were placing sports bets (which they did do), they were also casing the joint. They put my extended family’s lives on the line for maybe a year and a half of salary at my pay grade. That will cost them both decades in prison. That pisses me off and puts me in a LONG line of people who want to be let into the jail to kick their asses. I am not a violent person. But they put the LIVES OF MY EXTENDED FAMILY on the line. And the fact that one of them shot at a cop proves he was willing to use that power.

Nothing pisses me off more than some coward, who is only a man if he has a gun to back him up,thinking it makes him a man. . I have no gun. If I had one, I would not be allowed to carry one at work.

But there is a LOT of discussion going around about how to to prevent this in the future. In almost nine years of being open, this is the first time we were successfully robbed. And while some ideas I agree with and some I do not, I welcome ALL ideas. The trouble is that I am the security department manager, and the security department consists of ONE security guard, and while he CAN look intimidating when he needs to, he is a eddy bear.

And he was off the day we got robbed.

But I am done waiting for detectives for hours. after work. They made me wait for four and a half hours and then called it off because I was emotional because I almost lost some of my extended family  If they want to interview me, I welcome it. But come in while I am on the clock. I am tired of working wrounf their schedule and getting no sleep as a result. I gave them my schedule. If they don’t come in, that’s on them. I waited 4½ hours after they arrived (6½ hours after the robbery) to talk to someone. At that point I was too upset and how everything was handled. I told the detective off and left.

They can interview me on MY schedule or not interview me at all. I played by their schedule and it messed me up sleepwise.

[artfulmagic]

cw: blood, anguish tw: sui ideation  My Half-Year in Hell

You read that right: half of my year has been spent in a Hell of my own making, because I was naive and thought things changed for the better in regards to my own father, but I was sorely mistaken.

If you want to get technical, it’s been approximately 8 months since that fateful Memorial Day weekend my partner and I planned to take off, so we could move my dad downstate, so he could be closer to family and get the support and help he needed. To be frank, I thought after the loss of my mom and then my stepmother a few years later, I thought perhaps we could pursue a healthy relationship, that my feelings (or lack thereof) regarding my father would change. I was wrong.

A part of me is still uneasy talking about this as I’m not one to talk about my personal life very much, but I need to get it out there. I can only keep up the “everything’s fine” facade for so long. In truth, I am not fine. I haven’t been fine for months. In fact, I’ve been so miserable, I just don’t want to live anymore. Granted, I don’t want to off myself, but there are times I’d like to, to get away from this situation I decided to push myself into.

I was stupid. I always knew there were red flags: the fact that my father would mentally abuse my mother and call her names when she wasn’t around, the fact he’d start arguments with her if he didn’t have his way with something, the fact that he has a tendency to act affectionate in one instant (“lovebomb”) and then cruel the next, his possessiveness and distrust in regards to my mother, his paranoia delusions regarding other people thinking they’re out to wrong him in some way, the list goes on and on. During my childhood, he was diagnosed with schizophrenia, but I’m starting to wonder, is that really what’s wrong? He took the medicine he was prescribed, and while it calmed him down, he was still… him. Nowadays, he doesn’t even take it anymore. He says he doesn’t like the way it makes him feel, and that he’s fine without it.

During his stay here, I’ve tried to make it a point to get him re-evaluated, but he’s fought me on it. Being a Vietnam veteran in the US, he’s been immersed in the VA medical system for a long time, and he outright refuses to go back into it out of distrust. My partner and I have also spoken to him about a mental health evaluation outside of the VA medical system, but we’ve been fought on that as well. It probably doesn’t help that he and I have been both confrontational since he’s moved here, and anything that I try to tell him, he just throws right back at me.

At any rate, though, I’m past exhausted. I can’t even cry anymore, and taking out the rage and pain I feel on objects around me just seems pointless. I know that that’s not the healthiest coping mechanism, but it has been better than ending up wanting to physically hurt my father for all that he’s done and has said to me, or my mother up until the day she died.

There’s a lot more to this story than I’m letting on, but just getting this down in a way that’s cohesive has been difficult. I really need to talk to a therapist about all the issues I’ve been dealing with, and I’d like him to do so as well. I am not his therapist, and I’m no longer a child or a “precious baby” he needs to take care of; I’m just trying to live my life. That said, though, I think I have a plan. Before anyone jumps to any conclusions, this plan doesn’t involve any bodily harm towards myself or towards him. I don’t want to reveal too many details for fear that he might somehow find out through this blog post or otherwise. Just know that I am beyond done with this situation, and my partner and I are taking our lives back.

I’ll keep you all posted. Thank you for taking the time to read this, and to all my friends who have had some inkling on what’s going on, thank you for all your continued love and support. I really do appreciate you all. I’m sorry I haven’t been able to talk to you about everything.

[jesseuno]

I went to a DDR Tournament (aka: Post-MOTL4 Thoughts)

As the title suggests, I went to a DDR Tournament in Mentor, Ohio this past weekend called Mistake on the Lake 4. Below are my thoughts on the event, focused primarily on my performance at said event:

First off, the reason I’m posting it here instead of something such as twitter, or facebook, or discord or something is because I feel like I can be honest with myself about how I played without feeling a sense of being around (for lack of better term) toxic positivity. It’s not that I don’t think the community means well, and there is a very reasonable chance that I’m putting too much pressure on myself even now, but the last thing I want to hear right now is “you have one leg, it’s okay” or “you weren’t feeling well” or “it’s been a long time” or any kind of justification like that. Those are valid reasons to not play well, but I feel like it takes a lot of the responsibility off of me. The fact is this: I sucked. I performed worse at that tournament than I ever have at any other tournament in my time playing competitively (2004 - 2010, 2018 - 2020.) and there’s some very legitimate reasons why that are just entirely on me. 1. Since the COVID mandates have been relaxed (if not lifted entirely), I haven’t played all that much. I have not put in the time that I should have. I didn’t give the tournament and the competition the respect that it deserved. I even had the audacity to honestly think that I should have been rated higher than I was, and the way I played showed that I belonged exactly in the pool I was in, and probably lower if such a pool existed. I was out-worked, straight up. 2. During the course of COVID, I let myself get significantly out of shape. Despite having options around me to stay active, I chose to ignore them. To stay sane, I probably drank my own actual weight in bourbon and other alcohol to cope with the stress of the situation. That would have been fine (or at least understood) DURING COVID, but when I got vaccinated and things relaxed down, I didn’t change those habits. I didn’t start trying to be more active again and I didn’t do anything to change the negative habits that developed during COVID. I basically let myself blimp up even further and become even more lethargic and lazy. I went from about 170 lbs. before COVID, to 187 lbs. during it, to as of right now, 216.1 lbs. AFTER. Carrying an extra 45 lbs. everywhere you go takes its toll physically. I just can’t do as much or go as hard as I used to be able to.

3. To piggyback off of the last reason, I drank entirely too much leading into the tournament. Literally, the night before, I polished off a bottle of coconut rum with two other people. The night prior to that, beer and bourbon and cokes. The night before? Shots of rum while I was packing. I was basically an internalized microbrewery who was bloated and awful, and had no energy to play when it finally came time to do so. I even felt sick and anxious as I played, and proceeded to vomit my guts out after I finished. It was only after that, well after I was eliminated, that I finally felt good and loose. All of this is to say that I didn’t give this tournament, the competitors in my pool, and for that matter, myself, the respect it, they, and I deserved, and it showed, and I embarrassed myself on stream. I don’t even want to watch the VODs or recorded footage of the matches because I’m so ashamed of myself up there. It fucking sucks. In essence, TL;DR: I let myself down because I let myself get fat, out of shape, unmotivated, and drunk, and I played like shit for it. I’m writing this because at the end of it all, I want to take accountability for that and I never want to feel that embarrassed again. I never want to play that badly again. I never want to be that ill-prepared ever again. And if I have my way, I’m not going to. Consider this my accountability plan. 1. With the USL Soccer Season officially over, I have my Saturdays to myself again. If I have any say in the matter, on top of Tuesdays and Sundays, I am going to spend my Saturdays in the arcade playing and getting back into playing shape. Additionally, I’m going to start going back to Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu class on my Wednesdays to try and get myself back into decent physical shape. At the minimum, if I can get back down to under 200 lbs., that would be a good starting point. 2. It’s obvious that I have some bad habits that I need to work through. I need to eat better, I need to exercise more, I need to develop healthier mindsets for dealing with negative situations around me. This even includes dealing with playing badly. It’s okay not to be the player that I used to be. I’m not that person right now. Hell, I’m not the person I was two or three years ago, period. Looking back in the past is not going to do me any good. I need to work with who I am now and build from that. 3. This is the hard one to come to grips with, and I hate that I’m writing it. I’m actually kind of scared to even put it in writing, but I don’t think I have much choice anymore. Right now, I have an unhealthy relationship with alcohol. I have for a long time now. And while I should thank my lucky stars that I haven’t said or done something egregiously stupid yet, I’m afraid that I’m probably teetering that razor’s edge. Even now, I constantly have an anxious feeling in my chest that I’ve said or done something wrong, or inadvertently hurt someone, and I’m going to get myself thrown out of a community that I love, and this was even after asking a friend of mine to effectively be my shadow at said event to make sure something like that explicitly DIDN’T happen. I can’t live like this and something has to change. Another friend of mine has challenged me to go till my birthday weekend (Dec. 9-11) without alcohol. I think that’s a good idea. If nothing else, to reset my body and mind. This part won’t be easy and I’m actually kind of afraid. I hope I don’t fail.

To hold myself accountable to this, I’m including two photos of myself currently. Unaltered, untouched, not hat on, etc. It’s me, as I am at 216 lbs., wearing a t-shirt and soccer jersey that is way too tight on me for my size.

Hopefully the next time I post photos of myself, I will look a little thinner, be in better shape, most definitely be under 200 lbs., and also being a little more sober. Ideally also playing DDR infinitely fucking better than I ever did this weekend. I can’t keep living like this. I have to do something about it now. :\ Thanks for reading.

[strgshazam]

Missing Out - Chapter III - You'd better never forget me

While she's smoking, he leans down and starts pressing his lips against her neck. She turns her head away from him and back towards the party to give him more room to work.

That's when she sees Steve Harrington coming their way.

She puts a hand onto Billy's chest before whispering to him, "Sorry babe, fun police is here."

Just as Billy's pulling away to see what she's talking about, Steve makes his presence known. Loudly.

"Harper! The hell are you doing back here?" Though he doesn't say it, she can feel the added 'with him' at the end of that question.

︶꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶꒦

previous | next

a/n: writing has been especially tough because i'm traveling for work right now, but i'm doing my best. also, if anyone is interested in being a beta for this, please let me know!

about: billy hargrove x ofc, slow burn strangers to lovers modern!au

warnings: drug and alcohol use, substance abuse as a coping mechanism, dead dove: do not eat, eventual smut, minors dni, violence

︶꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶꒦︶︶꒷꒦︶︶꒷︶︶꒦

Harper and Billy had been spending a lot of their free time together. Especially once Harper had informed him that she had graduated early the year prior. He was at her apartment at least three times a week - either on the weekend, after school, or when he wanted to skip.

They spent their time as far from sober as possible. When Harper got a new supply in, she was always willing to share with Billy. He wasn’t nearly as upset about the “highway fuckin’ robbery” prices she was charging him for his own drugs since she was sharing all her own shit for free.

Today was no different. As soon as Billy saw her text informing him that she got some new pills in, he was already getting dressed to come over. By this point, Harper didn’t even lock her door when she knew Billy was on his way. He walked right in and made himself at home.

“Alright babe, what’s today’s special?” He was always making sure to make his presence known even if she had heard him walk through the front door.

Harper was sitting on her couch, hunched over her coffee table to cut up some lines of crushed up pills.

“Got some painkillers I haven’t had in a hot minute. Hope you like downers,” she lifted her head to smile at him when he sat down beside her.

“Dunno if I’ve ever really had them. What should I expect?” He picked up the bottle of pills from the coffee table to inspect the label.

"You're gonna feel really relaxed. We can just veg out on the couch," she finished cutting a couple of lines for each of them and rolled up a bill.

"How is that any different than what we usually do?"

She responded with nothing more than a smirk and took her first line before handing the rolled bill to him.

Within the hour, Billy understood the difference. The two of them ended up curled up on the couch together in the dark and silence of her apartment. She had explained that lights and sounds become a bit too intense during this kind of high - he took her word for it.

"Can I ask you something?" Billy whispered against the top of her head, careful to not make too much noise. She nodded against him.

"What made you get into this?"

"The drugs?"

Billy responded with a soft mhmm and Harper let out a heavy sigh. "The short answer is my dad." He pulled back a bit to look at her, "And the long answer?" Her gaze met his, pupils just tiny dots in her eyes. She shook her head and placed the side of her face back against him.

That was enough of an answer for him to drop the subject. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, "Feels good."

She sits up and reaches for her pack of cigarettes off the coffee table. She pulls one from the pack and lights it, offering the pack to Billy.

"You should see what it's like to get laid during this high," she hands him the lighter after he puts his own cigarette between his lips.

"You offering?" She laughs in response, "You know I'm not."

He lets out a chuckle, "Guess I'll have to try it sometime." He readjusts his position on the couch, facing toward her. He takes a long drag of his cigarette before his next question.

"Why don't you want to have sex with me?" Harper looks at him with a confused expression. He had never seemed to be the type to be bothered by rejection. Definitely seemed like he wouldn't be expecting it, but not bothered by it. She decided to feed his ego a bit.

"I never said I didn't want to," she ashed her cigarette and pulled the ashtray closer to the middle of the coffee table so he could reach it more easily.

He ashed his own cigarette, "So what gives?" She let out a huff in response. "Don't take this personally - it's a side effect of the pills. But you're starting to piss me off."

He gave a quick nod, reverting the two of them back into silence.

Before he left later that night, she told him about a party Steve was throwing that weekend.

-

She was there doing what she does best: selling to teenagers. Steve never invited her for that purpose, but she figured she may as well make a bit of cash while she gets drunk, knowing she's able to crash at his house for the night. She had sold a couple of joints to some guy named Ryan before he starting really upping his flirt game.

By the time Billy arrived, she was nowhere to be found. He made his way to Steve in the kitchen to ask about her whereabouts.

Steve gave a shrug when Billy had confronted him, "I dunno, dude. She went upstairs with some dude she was selling to earlier."

The confusion on Billy's face must have been more apparent than he was hoping.

"What's wrong, Hargrove? You jealous?" Steve chuckled before taking another swig of the beer in his hand.

"I- no. She just doesn't fuck her customers," he explained.

Steve let out a hearty laugh at this, almost spitting his beer out directly onto Billy, "Yeah she fuckin' does. That what she told you?"

He was making Billy look like a fool for believing her. And Billy hated looking like a fool. He stormed out of the kitchen, grabbing a liquor bottle on his way. He could still hear Steve laughing as he walked to the backyard.

Harper appeared no more than ten minutes later, chatting with some of Steve's friends by the pool. Billy waited until the group dispersed, dropping his cigarette butt on the ground and stomping it out.

She spotted him as he was walking over, "Hey handsome, I was wondering if you were gonna show up."

"You don't fuck your customers, huh?" Harper was taken aback by the anger in his voice. She sighed, "You talked to Steve, didn't you? I'm gonna kick his ass."

"Why'd you fuckin' lie to me?" he spat. She turned to leave, but he grabbed her wrist and pulled her back into the conversation. "Watch the hands, asshole. You wanna talk about this, that's fine. But lose the fuckin' attitude and we're not doing this here. You can text me when you can stop acting like a child," she pulled her arm from his grip and left to get lost back in the party.

Billy didn't text her for three weeks.

[keefwho]

July 16 - 2023 Sunday

9:40 AM

I’m having the thought that today won’t be a good day. I have this thought every weekend but I accept it as truth. I forget that it’s an assumption of what today COULD be, not something that is bound to happen. I have lots of thoughts like that and I’m trying to make it a habit to put them into concise words and recognize them as only that. They may or may not be true so I shouldn’t assume they are. 

There are things I need to talk about but only when I know I’m evaluated myself better. It sucks because it’s always on my mind and I’m afraid of the answer. Im also afraid I’m not acting from a genuine place but thats why I want to give myself time. I know my heart will let me know what it needs, and that I’ll have to listen to it and accept it. 

12:04 PM

I have so much going on in my head and all I feel like I ever need to do it talk about it but it’s not a good thing to let anyone listen to ALL of it day by day. I do wish I had that person though, someone I could a lot of time with. I feel in my heart thats what I need. Of course I am aware of being too involved or dependent but all I want is more time to interact with and explore each other. I don’t want to think that’s too much to expect from someone because that is what I give. I am extremely devoted and I know it hurts me when I don’t get back what I put in. It shouldn’t but it down. I know this is something I have to figure out inside of myself. I have to balance knowing and working for what I need, and controlling myself when I’m going too far or putting myself in something harmful. 

2:12 PM

I’m losing focus, I can’t forget my main goal right now is just to get perspective on myself. Who am I, where have I been, what have I done, and so on. Im just trying to get a grip on who I am again. That should provide me with the direction I need to go forward. 

My biggest fear is not being able to relate or connect to people. I used to be able to I think, but as friend after friend exited my life, I felt a diminishing capacity to let people in. Even my closest friends I feel myself being shut off towards. I’m trying to cling onto it because I don’t want to shut everyone out. I don’t know whats causing me to keep getting worse. Maybe its been my inability to trust. Even when someone I love tells me they are there for me, as much as I want to believe it, sometimes I can’t. I have all the love I need if only I could accept it.

Watching the Amphibia finale taught me that I am deathly afraid of change and always have been. It makes sense. My family was torn apart at age 5. I went through things at that age that I don’t even remember. I moved house after house, left school after school and friend after friend. All I ever wanted was stability. Then when I got it I didn’t know what to do with it other than cling on. I never wanted anything to change. But they do and they have. I’ve been coping by doing the same thing I have been since high school. Staying on the computer, drawing, and trying to make friends online. Those were cozy times I never wanted to let go. I’ve been living only trying to cling on to what I had and in the process all I do is lose things because I haven’t been able to accept new things. I lack the ability to accept loss and adapt. I live in the past.  

I cry almost every day now. I feel like I’m going crazy.

I’m having the thought that nothing I do matters.

I’m having the thought that I am a lost cause. 

I’m having the thought that I will end up alone. 

I’m having the thought that I am not good enough to improve. 

2:39 PM

I’m REALLY trying to accept that I am not cared about like I want to be. It’s for a good reason, look at me. I get it. But it still hurts. It hurts so much. I’m trying to pry myself off. 

Im having the thought that I’m fucking stupid for thinking I could ever find what I’m looking for. I’m 27 and more alone than I’ve ever been. All because I completely lost who I am and have nothing to offer anyone. I’m a shell.

2:55 PM

I keep doing the same fucking thing over and over and over. I know I am. I know I am being harmful. Maybe the best action I can take is inaction, at least for awhile. I just want to stop messing everything up because of my feelings. 

Im having the thought that no one would miss me if I was the guy that was last online 7 years ago. 

Im having the thought that my whole life is meant to be a tragedy. 

5:55 PM

My self opinion is lower than ever. I’m having the thoughts that my life is falling apart and that I won’t be able to recover. Im afraid to lose Daisy. She’s become such a wonderful person in my life. I’m afraid that I won’t be able to rekindle old friendships. I’m afraid I won’t be able to make new ones. I feel like I’m near the end. I want to recover. 

6:14 PM

I don’t even know how to escape. I have nothing to distract me. Nothing that satisfies me.

7:28 PM

I was distressed enough to call a hotline. I didn’t expect too much but the lady really helped me out. I got a lot out about what’s been bothering me and leading up to this point. I got a little perspective on myself that I need. In general I got a clearer head and I very much appreciate her time. Helen I think her name was. Bless her. She also knew what VRchat was which was funny but no surprising. 

[user13131313-13]

3

It’s still the same day as my previous entry I’ve got a lot on my mind.

I’m frustrated. None of my 4 parents bothered to tell me I was diagnosed with autism as a child and just turned a blind eye and pretended I was neurotypical??

I could’ve spent twenty years learning coping skills and shit but instead whether it was out of fear of alienation by my peers if I knew or had access to resources all this time, instead of skimming my childhood medical records for fun one day after getting them for continued care. And low and behold. My legal name right next to a diagnosis of autism in my assessment notes from a doctor visit I don’t even remember attending honestly.

I wish I weren’t so naive. Like, I’ve struggled to make and maintain friendships and relationships my whole life. And when I realize I’ve been betrayed, I’m quick to burn that bridge. I have four estranged siblings I haven’t spoken to in over ten years each for their own reasons I won’t get into. It makes me sad the people I grew up being closest to are and have been strangers for so long now. It’s weird. I’ve allowed too many friendships to wear me down, hold me back, or kept me around for whatever use they had for me and then I’d be disposed again. Same with relationships.

The only exes I’m on good terms with, were teenage relationships that ended because one had realized she was a woman and wasn’t attracted to me and was so apologetic and sweet when she broke up with me, we’re still good friends. It’s because it was never some big toxic dumpster fire like most of the relationship or friendship endings I’ve had. I’ve fallen into toxic friendships, relationships, unhealthy codependency’s with people who can’t even show up for themselves.

I used to be such a ride or die for my friends but I realized not one of the ones I cut off recently ever initiated anything first. Never texted first, unless it was to vent and then go back to ignoring me. Never made plans, or followed through, or flaked if they agreed to the plans.

I understand it’s hard to be social, it’s hard for me to leave my house. I get that.

But. I feel like I’m not irrational for being upset that the same people who stress me out with their problems, and constantly and continuously avoid me at all costs for over a year each of them. They never checked on me either. I stopped texting first 4ish months ago and guess who I haven’t heard from?

They don’t even know I’d been hospitalized a few times they ignore when I explain I’m struggling with leaving my house and asking them to visit me. I’ve offered gas money when that was a issue, shot down. I eventually even offered to come over to either of their houses despite my absolute dread-level anxiety I feel the moment I leave my front door- I wanted to see them and they would never. Yet they constantly post themselves partying and hanging out together and with other mutual friends and such

So when the excuse they’ve been avoiding me for a year is ‘mental illness’ it’s hard to believe when they’re consistently clubbing every weekend, hanging out with other friends as well as mutuals and even people who LIVE CLOSE AS HELL TO ME. I’m upset I didn’t see it sooner I’m upset I let these people who honestly probably never cared about my well-being stress me out so much for so long.

Since I cut them off, the only thing that’s changed is I have 2 less contacts on my phone and socials. Nothing else has changed really.

I’d rather die alone in a lush field than be surrounded by fake plants.

(I always thought fake plants were tacky. The texture is nice sometimes, but I just don’t get it really. Why get a hunk of plastic that resembles something else that costs about the same? There’s so many beautiful low-effort plants for forgetful plant parents… I don’t know)

[hocusbogus]

Journal Entry: 6 Feb 2023 Monday

I’m writing less and less these days, but I’m learning to not punish myself for it. Writing is an outlet for me and it makes me feel good and unloads a lot of my thoughts and emotions, but at the same time it's not just an outlet, I also wanna get better at writing, and I wanna write as much as I can.

It’s a replacement public holiday today for Thaipusam which was yesterday. Blessed to be a Malaysian with so many public holidays due to our diverse culture and demographic.

I watched two Ghibli movies after I woke up, I am on a Ghibli movie marathon, just because. I’ve been thinking about canceling Netflix hence I tried to find a reason not to, and for now, the Ghibli movies made me keep it. That thought has been lingering in my head for quite some time however what prompted me to seriously consider it was because of that ‘error’ message that Netflix ‘accidentally’ shared regarding the anti-password sharing policy, since my account is shared by the rest of my family I just don’t see the point of having it since I’m not watching anything on Netflix for months! But the Ghibil movies made me keep it, so lucky you Netflix.

I’ve watched Kiki’s Delivery Service, From Up on Poppy Hill, Ocean Waves, When Marnie was There, and The Cat Returns and made a thread on Twitter rating it, just little things I do to continue ‘writing’ with the limited characters offered by Twitter. Ghibli movies’ cinematography never disappoints, I can’t wait to visit the theme park soon!

Two days ago on Saturday, I caught up with Rochelle, I haven’t seen her since her wedding last September 2022 and a lot has changed since I last saw her. Had quite a meaningful conversation with her and I realized that we all have coping mechanisms, some are physical and some are emotional but at the end of the day we are suppressing something, and we are dealing with it the best way we could and know how. We are human just trying our best out here on a floating rock.

I also went to watch Yet To Come in Cinemas with Latun and had an absolute blast, I can’t wait to see BTS live one day, I know they miss performing together more than anything else, I’m so proud of them as artists and as human beings. It’s really hard not to be proud of them, they’re so humble and talented beyond imagination and I’m just so thankful to be existing in the same timeline as them.

I haven’t written ‘titles’ from my journal prompt lists, I don’t know why I’ve been avoiding it, I feel like I wasn’t ready to write them well when in reality I don’t have to write them well, it is called a prompt after all.

But there is one title that I’ve been wanting to write, it’s not part of a journal prompt, it’s something I thought of while scrolling Tik Tok, which is “Female Friendship”, I lost the Tik Tok that inspired me to write about it, but I’ve been putting it off awhile now.

Today was fine, it’s 4.40 pm as I am typing and I’ll work out in a bit since I was on rest days for the weekend, I am also having my period so all the pain in the body is amplified, and will need to take it easy with some low-impact workouts.

It’ll be a four-day work week this week, I’m at least thankful for that, looking forward to the weekend as well.

[the25thviolence]

Its 5pm (Year in Review etc)

I’m tired from the pizza I ate.  I just enjoyed watch my brother’s favorite football team win with him (they never win).   And I’m double listening to a playlist I made to fight god with.  

Now is the time I’ve decided to write my end of the year write up.  This moment.  Right now.  I am about to start writing it. 

Any.

Moment.

It’s.

About.

To.

Start.

One.

Second.

I.

Right.

Now.

I’ll.

Start.

Writing.

I switched jobs 3 times.  From retail (which I said I would never go back to after the retail job before that).  A Plastics factory job thing . And now I cut giant sheets of metal with a laser (not as cool as it sounds, as heavy as it sounds though).  

We’ve moved past the “mom has cancer” part of the storyline and now she’s just kind of hanging out.  Past the delusions of failure and depression.  We have moved onto the “I will grab life by its weak skinny neck and snap it in half if it dares to make the people I care about sad.” arc of the storyline.  

I stopped pining away at night for someone to care about me and now do not care because I’m strong enough to care about myself and everyone else around me.  If the world were to shatter I would simply wrap my hands around it and hold it in place.  If the sun were to fall out of the sky I would simply catch and toss it back where it belongs.  And if it all becomes too heavy for you I would simply pick up what you can’t carry and throw it on my back.  You are worth loving because I love you.  Is that not enough of a reason? 

I thought this writing writeup thing of words etc was going to be a lot longer but this playlist is really solidifying my emotions and shaping them into raw muscles that can lift heavy rocks. 

I made a long late night rant (ok I’ve made 100s of those but I mean the most recent one).  It was about understanding the needs of other thru there own pov instead of your own  It was very long and deep but I only wrote it because I thought my friends wanted me to stop playing overwatch and not that THEY wanted to stop playing overwatch.  Because every time they brought up it I heard it thru a lens of me.  I think people really thought it was something deep but it was just that my friends were super tilted and wanted to play minecraft instead of overwastch and I didn’t understand that because I was fine playing overwatch. 

I guess like this is important or like life affirming.  I finally got with a dentist to fix my team.  99% of my mouth is in ruin from the years, decades, of depression.  like 22 fillings, 2 root canals, a cap, and a completely dead tooth or two.  My advice is see a therapist before its too late and all the emotional pain you have physically ruins your body. 

I stopped writing stories, poems, words in general because I started feeling better.  I’ve always had this desperate need to escape myself when in deep painstaking trauma.  Coping or therapeutic either way it helps me feel better.  And for awhile now I haven’t felt the need to feel better.  I still fall into a fit of depression every other weekend.  But I’m doing the best I’ve been doing in over a year now.  

The past is gone.  The hill has been climbed.  I’m standing on the top of it all now.  Even still.  Even after all this pain.  I still grin while lifting my arms up.  Daring the world to stop me from leaping off.  Daring it to stop me from finding out if I can fly or not.  One more time.  One more try.  The last hundred didn’t kill me.  What’s one more fall from the mountain top to the ground below.  

My current worries are christmas.  I gotta spend at least $100 on friends.  Probably around $75 for my brother and his 4 children that I live with.   Than another $40 for my mom and brother.  And who knows how much on my team nephews.  Maybe $20 or $25 each.  I just gotta find a way and do the math.  

To the wind swept roads of tomorrow.  The sad winner of the Justin lottery.  Probably been waiting a few decades for this lost soul mate to appear.  I’m sorry but I mite never show up.  The world has had a firm grasp on my existence since I was a child.  If you somehow find me in the deep overgrown underground that is my permanent living hell.  I’ll be ripped and cut from the motion of it all.  The great spinning and falling of this life.  A torn tragedy.  I’ll hate you with every breath I take.  I’ll ignore you before I even begin to deny you.  Its not a hill.  Its not a mountain.  Its a flat cliff face.  You mite notice a shortcut permanently covered in fresh winter snow but I advise you ignore that.  Making me care about you is a quick way to get me into your heart.  But it does nothing for the locked gate on my heart.  Frigid like concrete.  Sadly not dramatic like a block of ice.  I cannot be melted.  Only warmed under the hot beating heart of the warm summer sun.  And as soon as you leave, even if only a moment, the coldness will seep into my body freezing it again.  I may be talking to a ghost but I would love a tree if it desired me so.  If a tree loving me made its life happier than I would love a tree.  Splinters and all.  

Well this was far shorter than I expected.  I know I have zero readers and mostly write for myself.  Even if I’m the writer I can also be the reader and I am very grateful to have myself in my own life.  Being alive is so fucking hard.  And dying seems like a fairytale.  But no one ever killed god and permanently smashed opened the waters of grace without first defeating life in a 1v1. 

[panic-in-the-multiverse]

Nonexistent Eating Patterns

Pairings: Matt Murdock x gn!teen!reader

Imagine: you haven’t been eating sleeping or drinking as you should and Matt is there to help

Warnings: not eating, anxiety, dehydration, sleep deprived, mention of panic/anxiety attacks, mention of depression, feeling sick, mention of school and exams and grades, Soft Matt Murdock (that is a warning), idk what more

A/N for starters this is probably shitty, bc wrote this late at night to be able to cope with my current life/mental/physical health. So wrote this to bring me some sort of comfort, so yeah this is probably shitty and I have not proofread it, but ya know that’s fine I guess :)

You didn’t know why, but once a year there was always this period of time where you ate far too little. More so than usual. The other times when you occasionally skipped lunch or breakfast or your usual midnight snack it was always fine, because you only skipped one of those and only once a week at a maximum. But now. Now you have skipped breakfast and your midnight snack the whole week, and lunch nearly every day. You had eaten maybe four times overall this week and your health was not having it. Because at those times when you did eat you didn’t eat much, you nearly spat out the food you ate. Nor did you get hungry. You only had that stomach ache where deep down you knew it came from you not eating, but you didn’t want to acknowledge that. So instead you laid curled up in your bed, hands by your head trying to soothe the migraine and your knees up to your chest while watching some random show on the TV. It was one of two positions that made the ache bearable.

Matt — your “guardian”, and who you shared an apartment with — knew you hadn’t been eating well. Of Course he knew, he was the devil of Hell��s Kitchen after all. Something like that would not get past him, but he didn’t want to push things on you, he didn’t want to push you to eat because it wouldn’t work as long as you didn’t do something yourself. As long as you didn’t ask for help he knew you wouldn’t eat. He knew your condition only got worse with your horrible sleeping patterns, and let’s not forget you were probably dehydrated. It seemed like you didn’t ever get tired, hungry or thirsty. Matt wanted to help you, but as long as you didn’t want the help nothing would change. Because one of the worst things is when a person doesn’t want help, and it’s hard to help them when they don’t want the help, especially with this. So he let it be for the time being, until he felt it had been going on for too long.

You’d had more panic and anxiety attacks this month than you usually had and your depression had kicked in not long ago. Which meant that you were less likely to start eating and sleeping. The only thing that kept you occupied was watching movies and series. You couldn’t do any school work, because that just made you anxious. Even though you didn’t have much in school at the moment (if you compare to other times), you still felt like everything was too much. You were supposed to have five exams, you had one today, which ended badly. The next two were next week, and then two after each other the next three coming weeks. On top of that you were just confused by everything in school and even if you studied you didn’t get the high grades. Everything was just too much at the moment with school, depression, anxiety overall, plus the attacks and panic attacks, let’s not forget not eating, drinking or sleeping. At the very moment you were screwed and you’d gone so deep down that you had no idea what to do.

Every day you felt like you would have an attack, every day you felt like you wanted to cry and scream until next year came. But you couldn’t even force a tear out of your eyes or a scream out of your throat, for some reason you just couldn’t. So you opted to lay in bed and watch movies all weekend instead of studying for your next exam because you wouldn’t understand anything anyway (and the teacher couldn’t explain it to you either).

It was night by the time Matt came home again, he’d called various times during the day to make sure you ate something, though you hadn’t really followed that, as you just took one bite out of your sandwich before you had to throw it away feeling like you’d puke by eating it. So when he came home and heard you were still awake as well as when he noticed you hadn’t eaten, he went into your room, and you in a poor attempt tried to even your breath to make it sound like you were sleeping — even though you knew full well it wouldn’t work.

“I know you’re awake”

Matt sat himself beside you on your bed. Making sure you listened to him as he continued.

“I know you didn’t eat today” he touched your arm gently, which went unnoticed by you, as you continued to stare out in the distance after you had opened your eyes. He touched your arm once more, and this time you felt it as your eyes slightly wandered to his hand which was carefully placed on your arm once more. Your hands had long since started to fiddle with your blanket in an attempt to hide the fact that your hands were shaking from the anxiety that came with being confronted with your nonexistent eating patterns.

“If I make you a sandwich will you eat it” you only shook your head in answer, you knew with the help of his heightened senses he would pick it up, but just in case you answered with a no as well.

“Can you at least drink a glass of water?” you shook your head and said no once more. Matt sighed and after a few moments he went out of your room. He went into the kitchen and took out some candy from one of the cupboards — the candy he hid away for special occasions. Matt also went and got a glass as he tapped on the water. When he heard it flow down he put the glass underneath and waited for the water to fill up the glass (can he now that?). He also put the candy in a bowl and went into your room again.

The darkness in your room made it hard for you to see, the movie had gone onto the credit scenes and the black background did nothing to help you see what Matt did. You only heard something being put down on your nightstand and felt Matt move around in front of you (as you were facing that way). He took up his previous position on your bed and made you sit up, as well as tell you to put on your favorite movie, he didn’t care if he couldn’t see it nor if you had already seen it today, it was the best way to distract you.

When the movie had started to roll he started to talk. “I know candy isn’t exactly food, or the food you need right now, but you eating anything is a progress, so can you at least eat some of it” your breathing had stopped for a few seconds, scared of even trying to eat as it made your stomach ache. Matt felt this, and added to his previous words. “Please Y/N, if you won’t do it for me, do it for yourself, I know that deep inside you want to get better, you’re just scared to try, scared that it might get worse, but I promise it won’t, it’ll only get better” he felt your head slowly nod as you slowly reached over to the bowl. “How do you know that” Matt sighed softly once more, he knew that if he said the wrong thing it’d make you put away the bowl. “Because it has before hasn’t it, before it went way too far until you needed to get help, because you couldn’t do anything, I just want to help you before we get to that, okay” you hummed at his answer and picked up a chocolate bar. When you put it in your mouth it melted and you got a tiny moment were you felt like everything would be okay, the sweetness was nice, it was far better than eating a sandwich that’s for sure. With that you took another candy bar and eventually you had eaten all of it, while being distracted by the movie in front of you. Matt had listened in on you while you ate, making sure you were okay. He drowned away everything but you, only focusing on you, to make sure you were nothing but okay.

After a few moments your stomach started to ache, it felt like it harnessed everything you ate. Matt made you drink the glass of water before he laid you down on the bed. His arms wrapped around you, as he cuddled close to you, giving you comfort. You breathed in his scent and felt his overall calmness — which always seemed to calm you down in turn. It was like he transferred some of his calmness over to you.

Eventually Matt felt your even breaths as you for once actually slept. That’s when he promised that he’d make sure that you actually ate the next following days, because he didn’t ever want to experience this with you ever again. Though if it did happen again he would always be there to help you, over and over again.