#so now I’m forcing myself to do laundry tonight

[districtsof-treason]

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[powderblueblood]

HELLFIRE & ICE — eddie munson x f!oc as enemies to star-crossed lovers

CHAPTER THREE — EDDIE MUNSON COMMITS TREASON (BREAKS UP a CAT FIGHT)

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summary: you deal with the fallout of your fight at steve harrington's party... in the passenger seat of eddie munson's van. so much for pretending you didn't exist to one another, huh? content warnings: as always, MINORS FUCK OFF, because we have *deep breath* implied fantasy smut, lots of swearing, confused yearning, themes of threat, heavy snark, another mention of the drink tab which i feel like is/was gross word count: 7.2k

Dear Dio, Tommy Iommi, Gary Gygax, Pee-wee Herman, Ronnie Ecker — forgive me for what I’m about to do. 

I know I’ve done a lot of stupid shit in my life. Like the time I lit all my hair on fire and spent middle school with a buzz cut. Or the time I almost trapped myself in a spread eagle with my own handcuffs. Or the time I got my arm stuck in a wall for an entire afternoon when I was trying to rescue a feral cat. 

I’ve done a lot of stupid shit. But the stupidest among it all has got to be saving this girl from the bare knuckle wrath of Carol Whatsername. You know the one. 

Tonight, for whatever reason, this insane ex-rich chick has decided to teeter on the edge of a pool of boiling hot lava and for whatever reason, I feel like it’s my responsibility to yank her back.

Which sucks, because she’s a total bitch to me. 

Even if she just told everybody Tommy Hagan had crabs and has been cheating on his girlfriend in such a deranged way that it almost made me pop a semi. 

Anyway. Tell my guitar I love her. 

The world around Eddie slows to the tick of a football game replay as you let the last incendiary word you speak to Carol bounce around the goddamn Roman amphitheater Harrington’s back yard has become. 

This is insane. What he’s watching is insane. Like, he knew you and your dumb little court of Hawkinsites bickered back and forth, but you’re the last person he’d ever expect to air their dirty laundry like this. 

It’s incredible to watch the fascist leadership that he and the rest of the social nobodies have suffered under for so long rupture in real time. 

What’s even more incredible is how little hesitation there is on his part, shoving through the crowd when he sees Carol leaping for you. Eddie’s nearly jostled backwards by some slobbering roid heads— they’ve already called CAT FIGHT! and a crowd is clamoring. But Eddie’s got years of thankless equipment lugging behind him, giving him deceptively strong arms.

And thank god, because you are not an easy girl to hold onto. 

Carol lands a decent punch to your face, slamming with a dull knuckle-on-cheekbone crunch that makes all the onlookers, including him, go ooof! You stagger back in a state of shock (though, c’mon, you heard what you said just now, right?) and Eddie takes his shot just as you dive forward to retaliate.

He grabs you under the arms so you can’t like, elbow him in the fucking nose, a pale imitation of an illegal wresting move that Al Munson had forced him to learn at the tender age of seven. His dad had fancied himself a wrestling manager at the time— you can imagine how that worked out. 

But Jesus, can you ever squirm! Your body writhes against him—stop—hips bucking—don’t go there—as you try to get free. He doesn’t even think you realize who’s dragging you away from the screaming harpy, otherwise you’d probably turn your fury on him. 

He takes full advantage of the rage blackout and manhandles you through the party, earning a baffled look from Steve Harrington, who’s finally graced his own party with his presence. A pinch-faced Nancy Wheeler lingers behind him, but then again, Wheeler’s always all pinch-faced.

“What the fuck?!” Harrington breathes, exasperated. 

Eddie struggles against you struggling, just about dragging you over the front doorstep. Trust this guy to be upstairs in a domestic dispute, missing all the action while getting no action. 

Even in the chaos, Eddie will never pass up an opportunity to fuck with Harrington.

“You gotta start hidin’ your bath salts, man! Chicks are going crazy in there–Evil Dead type shit!” 

—

“You’re dead, Lacy! Monday morning, you are fucking dead!” Carol screams down the hallway. 

“It’s a date, bitch!” you screech, Munson’s nelson hold on you stronger than your thrashing. With a lot of work, he manages to haul you as far as Harrington’s front yard before you wriggle out of his grasp. You shove him, hard, all white hot and punch drunk and regular drunk on top of that. 

He yelps, high and frightened. You weren’t expecting a noise like that to come out of a surly-looking dude like him. 

So you do it again. 

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!” you spit, and Munson flinches.

“Cutting you off!” he exclaims, this half-yell, half-laugh. It stings, the way he’s looking at you– like your anger isn’t anger, like it’s just amusing to him. 

“Well, who gave you the right? Who died and made you my parole officer, Munson?!” 

“Oh, I’m not– but I also didn’t feel like being woken up at home when the cops come looking for you after you go all Raging Bull on Carol. You haven’t been around the park long enough to hear ‘em, but those sirens really perforate the eardrums!”

Your jaw sets itself stiffly and you bind your arms over your chest. Unfuckingbelievable. “I would’ve, you know,” you breathe, seething, “Beat her up.” 

Munson’s dark eyes glide over you, like he’s checking you for concealed weapons or signs of a zombie bite— you avoid his gaze entirely, staring square into the middle distance. 

You promised that he didn’t exist to you, yet here he is. Driving you off the road. Breaking up your fights. Existing.

“Yeah, I know you woulda. You’re scary,” he says. You shrug, and he reaches to massage his shoulder. “And strong. Shit.” 

Your eyes flick over to him, but you don’t feel bad. You don’t feel bad because he’s grinning at you now and despite yourself, despite everything that’s transpired and the everything about him, you’re trying your hardest not to grin back. Adrenaline and vodka are still burning a hole in your chest. 

“Stay out of my way, then.”  

“Noted, but,” a couple of steps from Munson’s end closes some space between you. He’s peering at your face, right where Carol clocked you. A hand reaches out, angling your chin closer to the Harrington’s glaring porch light with his fingertips. You stiffen and squint, performatively wary, but you don’t stop him. You just let his eyes pan over you, looking anywhere but into them. “You might need a little first aid first. And a ride home.” 

“I was actually planning on carjacking Hagan,” you say coolly, the smile you were trying to beat away edging its way across your face. Munson releases your chin and the spot where his fingers were buzzes. It’s just the cold. It’s just your slutty librarian outfit, you tell yourself. You have to swallow in order to speak again. “Seems like fitting payback.”

“Jesus, sweetheart, what did I just say about cops?”

—

Eddie tolerates your eyes rolling back in your head when he props the passenger door open for you, helping you into the cluttered van with an outstretched had. 

See, I’m not the kind of asshole who doesn’t open doors for girls wearing stilts for shoes.

Those things were not made for clambering into a vehicle like this, sure, but they’re– nice. For what he knows about shoes, which is nothing. They make your legs look more… leggy, and for whatever reason this is making his brain soft. 

In your other hand is a cold can of High Life, which is the closest thing to an ice pack he could nab. That bruise blooming under your eye is going to be nasty, and he’s a little curious how you’re gonna look with it. You, with nary a hair out of place on a bad day, with a big ol’ purple shiner in a place that’s hard to hide.  

Gunning out of Harrington’s hood, a silence settles between Eddie and you. The radio hums in the background– a mainstream station for once. He thoughtfully figured that an aural assault by Sabbath would kinda rub salt in your wound. 

He’s thoughtful, but he’s not not nosy. So, of course he’s gonna ask– 

“That whole… verbal smackdown back there,” Munson starts after clearing his throat. “With Tommy H and everybody.”

On your end, the adrenaline has worn off and the numbing effects of the booze have amped up. You feel loose and warm, apart from the beer can cooling your bruise. There are twice as many streetlights streaming past you as usual. This is going to blow later– if you don’t blow chunks first. 

“All that about your dad pimping me out?” God, I mean, Hagan couldn’t compose a written sentence to save his life but maybe he had a future in speculative fiction. Did he just come up with that on the fly? “Take a wild guess, Munson.” 

Eddie recoils in his seat– gross. Gross. “Not the– the shit with Tina and Carol and–”

“Oh, the crabs? Yeaaaah, that’s true,” you slur, “But I rejected Tommy waaay before I knew that. Call it my brilliant instinct. And then he has the nerve to call me frigid, which– trust me, I’m anything… anything but.”

Munson seems a little surprised at this. You can see it in the way his eyebrows dart under his curly bangs. 

But you’ve had your share of disappointing experiences with the blandly acceptable boys in your circle– it’s par for the course, it’s part of advancing in the field. You can’t throw your cat into the street completely, but god forbid you be choosy about the boys you want to copulate with. The ones you’ve hooked up with, all unremarkable and perfunctory, always seemed so smug afterwards. Like they’d conquered something. 

But from Eddie’s purview, you always held yourself like you were above everyone else; not just the underclassmen and the social rejects, but even your own friends. He’d watch you sometimes, because it’s hard not to watch you. He’d wait for the few flickering moments you let your guard down, when you thought no one was paying attention as you sat at the lunch table or walked the hallways. So achingly unamused by the guffawing, the backslapping, the forced camaraderie of your forced high school persona and your forced high school friends. Then, one of them would say something like, Right, Lacy? and your brow would unarch and you’d be right back in the groove with the rest of them, giggling dumbly and glossing your lips. 

He always wondered how you did it, tolerated it. And why.

“Now, far be it from me to agree with a shithead like Hagan–and I don’t, before you get scary–but I kinda get where he’s picking that up,” Eddie winces, throwing a glance to you, glassy-eyed with your head against the window. You’re looking at him with narrowed eyes, eyeliner smudged. Even that look could cut down a man with twice his ego. “You’re a little bit frosty. Cold shock in the middle of a summer’s day– which, y’know, could be–”

You absolutely do not let him finish the thought.   

“It’s caaaalled being aloof, Munson,” you drawl, shuffling your shoulders against the passenger door and pulling a stray thread from your skirt with a sharp snap. “Playing hard to get, duh? Leave them wanting more? You wouldn’t get it because you’re so goddamn big and obvious all the time…”

“Obvious!” he brays, letting his jaw hang open with theatrical flair, “Obvious! Lacy, you wound me, I–”

“Obvious,” you bark back, “Obvious like a neon sign, obvious like a circus tent, obvious like– like– look at me, look at me, I’m a weirdo!” Your Munson impression, complete with devil horns, is a little dorkified but it shuts him right up. That loose little tongue of yours has trasmuted your mood from wrath to barbed silliness. “So obvious you wouldn’t know that kind of subtlety. Not if it hit you in the face.” 

A familiar tune whistles from the radio, distracting you. “… or cause you’re a virgin.”

“Okay—!“ Eddie starts, immediately assuming the position of point guard. His hackles are raised, but to be honest, he’s so willing to let you ramble on. It’s the first time he’s heard you talk this much, ever, save your little tête-à-tête by the lockers the other day. 

Eddie doesn’t want to stem the flow just yet. He’s not thinking about it too hard.

“Oh shit, do you hear that?” Like a Virgin pumps from the tinny speakers and you reach to turn it up, your head drunkenly bobbling on your neck. Eddie winces; it’s so weird, watching you like this. It’s like dream logic. It’s like opposite day. “Munson’s a virgin! I’m gonna touch him for the very first tiii-iime! Munson’s a vii-iir-gin—“

“First off, no I am not and no,” he audibly swallows, positive you didn’t realize what you just sang, “no, you are not, ‘cause— well.” He clears his throat. A flare of heat burns around his collar. “I’m not the type to bone and tell.”

“Bone and tell.” You guffaw, a sound so unbecoming yet so endearing coming from you, and slump back in your seat. That tight little skirt you’re wearing rides up about an inch and a half. “Sounds like something a virgin would say.”

Eddie huffs; no way around this. You’re fucking with him, and it’s the indefatiguable male ego that’s not going to let him let you win. 

He fucks, okay? Or has fucked, prior to this. 

Not that there’s anything wrong with not fucking. 

But he’s done it.  

Eddie’s eyes dart between you and the road, and you’ve got him like a stuck pig with that expectant glare. His eyes linger on your exposed upper legs for a half a second. 

Christ, you’re annoying. It occurs to him that wants to bite the soft flesh of your thigh and hear you squeal about it, but you are annoying as hell. 

“Fine. Fine. You wanna know?”

Your head lolls against the rough upholstery of the seat and you bat your lashes at him. “I really wanna know.” 

And Munson will tell you, you know, because you’re the kind of person people tell things to. 

“Nicole Summers.”

“Bullshit. Nicole Nicole? My Nicole?”

“Nicole Nicole. Nicole, formerly yours. The only-girl-meaner-than-you Nicole. It was tenth grade,” he snorts bitterly. “Most unforgettable thirty seconds of my life.”

“Nicole told us she got her v-card stamped by a board waxer in Maui.”

“I’ve got a lot of side gigs. You don’t know about me.”

You snort too, despite yourself. That’s a lot of despite-ing tonight, Lacy. You sit up in the seat a little, interest catching. Flame to a candle wick. 

“How was it?” you press. 

Munson furrows his brow, like duh. “Most unforgettable thirty seconds of my life, I just told you.” A beat. “Until— …Cass Finnigan.”

Now, an encounter like that is less surprising, but still you holler, “Bullshit!”

“I’d say the same shit if it hadn’t, y’know, happened to me,” he stage whispers, “In this van.”  

Your eyes widen, a flicker of a grimace sailing across your face. You wonder how he pulled that off, but all that comes to mind is the start of a bad porno– Cass meets him at that dingy little bench out back of the school to pick up and he’s, I don’t know, test driving some of his new supply and offers her a toke. She’s all, why the free samples, Munson? and he’s all, I only let the prettiest girls test the product. And because Cass is notoriously insecure–who among us, girl–she’s all, who, me? and he’s all, come back to my van, and she’s all, but I’m going steady with Mikey B, and he’s all, I won’t tell if you won’t and then he fucks her in the ass. 

Because Cass is saving the first hole for marriage and you know that. You’re the kind of person people tell things to. 

What you don’t expect is a weird pull of… envy. Why, in this imaginary scenario, had he never invited you back to his van? Well. You know why. But you’re drunk, so logic begone. “When did all this go down?”

“Uh, right before school got back,” Munson answers, kind of apprehensively. He could be lying, you figure.

“Well, Cass has been having a weird year,” you mumble, meaning to think that rather than say it. You know, because you’re the kind of person people tell things to.

“What’s that supposed to imply exactly?” Eddie says, an edge in his voice. He can’t help the way something in his chest flares; like he forgot to wait for the other shoe to drop with you, and now it’s dropping. 

“It stands to reason that she’d wanna, like, do something stupid,” you explain, and you know how it sounds. It’s mean. But honestly, you’re so drunk, and so past the point of attempting to spare people’s feelings.

“Like hook up with the local freak,” Eddie finishes for you, tone flat. You couldn’t not put him in his place, could you? Not that he thought Cass liked him or anything, he could feel her (literally feel her) going through the motions like a social experiment but– God, a little delusion doesn’t hurt now and again. 

“Exactly!” and even in your inebriated state, you can feel the tension in the air, hanging between you like a balloon full of noxious gas. Rather than cut it, you want to poke at it, unfeeling as to whether that’ll make it worse or better between you and the boy in the driver’s seat. You hike yourself up further, leaning toward him, pulling the can of High Life from your face. 

Munson’s profile is this beguiling mix of hurt and irritation, lit by the scuzzy orange hue of the passing streetlights. 

“What, did you want me to act impressed? Did you want me to lie to you?” 

“What? No– look, I know what girls like that– think of me, but,” Eddie’s voice shrinks in his throat, making him sound completely pre-pubescent. He notices you lean forward in his peripheral vision, like you have to strain to hear it, “that doesn’t make it any less shitty.” 

Oof. He did not need to unleash that little piss-shake of earnestness right now. He mentally steels himself for a ribbing from you, a cackling, piercing laugh like you let out before Carol punched you. 

“Of course it doesn’t!” you froth, “Just like it doesn’t make it any less shitty when guys act like they’re settling a bet with their buddies when they hook up with me.” You cross your arms to your chest with a quickness, slamming back into the seat. “Bet you couldn’t make it with Lacy, she’s got a combination lock on her pussy. Fuck you, dude.”

That coaxes a bark of a laugh from Munson, which makes you giggle a little in turn. It’s a weird feeling. It’s not quite relief; more like satisfaction. One point to Lacy, you made him laugh. 

“Combination lock, huh?”

“Allegedly.”

“Bet none of those losers even know how to crack a lock.” 

Your head tilts in his direction, forward this time. “And you do?”

Munson’s eyes flash at you, a dangerous orange glint sparkling in the darkness of his irises. “My criminal skillset is pretty diverse.”

He pins you down with this look from the driver’s seat and for a heartbeat or two, and you let him. Just long enough that a stab of sobriety sneaks in– and you can’t deny it, but you wish it didn’t. 

You’re drunk. 

If you can stay drunk, all bets are off. 

If you can stay drunk, whatever you do doesn’t matter, because you were drunk. 

You could reach over and press your fingers into the soft denim between his legs, make something hard there. You could squeeze the thickness of him over his zipper and kiss the shock of alabaster skin on his neck, where his pulse goes all jackrabbity under your touch. You could make him forget he ever heard the name Cass Finnigan. 

And it would mean nothing. 

And you wouldn’t have to justify it, because you were drunk. That’s what you’ve always been taught.

But you uncross your arms and you pull at the hem of your skirt and look to the road, just as the van swerves into the trailer park. Munson doesn’t take such a hard turn at the corner this time, probably wary of your risk of ralphing all over the van if he does. He pulls into that negative space between your trailer and his and instructs you to wait in your seat. 

“Trust me, the descent out of this baby is much trickier than it looks,” he assures you, jogging to the passenger door, a jingle of keys and pocket chains and belts on leather, “and you’re way too gone to make it in one piece, princess.”

So he holds his hand out again (“M’shitfacedlady,”) and gingerly you take it, and it becomes very apparent very quickly that your legs have turned to rubber on the drive home. 

“Oh, shit!” 

Your attempt at gracefully exiting the van is ruined by an unsteady ankle, sending your weight right into Eddie Munson’s chest. Luckily, he was braced for it– just about. “Told you you couldn’t make it without me,” he breathes as you clutch a handful of his Metallica shirt, vision quadrupling. He’s warm, and you suddenly realize that you’re freezing.

Trembling.

“Stop flirting with me,” you hiss to one out of the four Munsons in front of you. “I need to go to bed.”

Eddie forces himself to bite back another double entendre, which is a shame, because they’re doing an awesome job of covering up how goddamn nervous he suddenly is. He moves his arm to your waist, helping you haul ass to your front door. He’s got to keep one arm outstretched behind you in case you lose your balance again– which you almost do, a couple of times, wavering around like a dashboard Jesus. 

He watches you like he’s trying to commit this to memory, the rare case of you being so beyond your usual composure. He’s even got to intervene after the first five minutes, making unlocking your front door a two idiot job.

Eddie’s about to wave you off and disappear to scream and something else into his pillow when he sees you take a dangerous lunge into the darkness of the trailer. “Woah, girl–” 

But you recover, in a kind of brainless way, taking a measured Bambi-like step forward. One after the other. 

Fuck. He can’t leave you like this. 

You’re gonna trip and brain yourself on a Fabergé egg or whatever the fuck it is you and your mom have in there. 

“Uh– Lacy?” 

The trailer is eerily quiet. You feel like you’re trespassing in your own place. Boxes of out-of-place, too-expensive ephemera are still strewn everywhere, but you navigate the maze of them like it’s nothing. Sense memory. You don’t even entirely register that Munson is following you inside, that he’s frantically whispering after you, until you reach your bedroom door. 

A coldness shoots up your spine as you turn on him. You didn’t invite him in here, did you? 

“What do you think you’re doing?” you ask for the second time tonight. This time, it comes out a little fearful. 

Eddie picks this up, right where you’ve erroneously dropped it. His chest gets a little tight. You didn’t think he was trying to–? 

“Making sure you lie down in the recovery position, that’s all,” he throws his hands up in total surrender, Scout’s honor, all that shit. “I’m not tryin’ to pick any locks tonight. I swear.” 

“I don’t need your help, Munson,” but just as you twist the doorknob, you keel over through the door, hitting the floor like a lead balloon. 

“Yeah, you keep telling me that,” he blearily smirks down at you, “And yet.”

But Munson’s not such an asshole about it that he just leaves you there. He hauls you up, again, and you stagger towards your bed, flopping face down on top of the comforter. He says some variation of okay, well, that’s how you choke to death on your own vomit, Jimi Hendrix and bullies you into the recovery position. 

“Don’t freak out, I’m just–” and Munson sits gingerly on the edge of your bed, taking one of your high heeled feet in his hands. 

What the fuck, you mumble, either aloud or in your head. But he’s fiddling with the tiny buckle at your ankle, gently undoing it. Another chill runs through your body but you don’t move, not an iota. You just… let him do it. His hands on your aching feet aren’t a totally unwelcome touch. He’s being featherlight about it, almost afraid to touch you even though he had no problem sheepdogging you into bed. 

“You could do anything to me right now,” you hear yourself saying. “No one would even know. No one would even care, I bet.” 

It’s meant to sound like you’re goading him, or even flirting with him, but it comes out sounding pitiful. You cringe, your hands creeping up to cover your face. 

“I’d care.” Munson’s voice is a tiny mumble– you know he’s just defending himself, but it kind of sounds like something else. He slips your right shoe off and sets it on the floor next to your left one. He hesitates for a moment before getting off your bed. 

“Alright, well– we can forget this ever happened. Resume being assholes to each other on Monday. Don’t, like, die in the meantime.”

“You say resume like we ever stopped being assholes to each other.”

“Have a fun hangover, Lacy.” 

–

You do not have a fun hangover. You wake up late Saturday afternoon after Friday’s bacchanal and don’t emerge from your room save from the occasional bathroom trip to puke up what little dignity you’ve got left. Sunday morning is when your mom hammers on the door and drags you to the kitchenette after confirming that you’re still, y’know, alive. 

“This is your game face, hm?” she says, pulling at your chin to examine your violet bruise that seems to have developed its own heartbeat. She doesn’t hold your face the way Munson did, gentle and searching, just tugs into the sparse light streaming into the dingy kitchenette.

You attempt to steel your jaw, but your bottom lip is starting to waver. 

“What happened?” your mother asks, and beneath all the jagged broken glass, there’s a tiny sliver of tenderness. 

Call it your pride, but you don’t reach for it. 

“I went out,” you say tightly, “and I made a fool of us.”

She hacks up a scoff through her smoker’s cough and disappears into her bedroom, leaving you alone to pick at a cold waffle. The few moments of consciousness you’ve had since Friday night have been spent trying to piece the party together– you remember clearing the better part of a bottle of cheap, cheap, shitty vodka with Robin Buckley’s help (weird), you remember getting into it with Hagan and Carol and getting wailed on. You remember getting a ride home with Munson, but the finer details of that are fuzzy. 

You think, and this is a thought that turns your already 180’d stomach, you let him into your bedroom, but you can’t be one hundred percent sure. All you know for an absolute is that your shoes came off that night, and you would never bother to take your shoes off after a night like that. 

So somebody must have. 

Meanwhile, Eddie’s been having a hell of a meanwhile. 

Fact of the matter is that you managed to detonate a nuclear bomb at Harrington’s party just under an hour after your arrival, which has got to be some kind of world record. It was also a world record for how little product he’d managed to sell during one of those parties, because he was preventing the manslaughter of a teenage girl– could’ve been you, could’ve been Carol. He nearly wishes he let that fight play out, as he stares into his empty wallet. 

Eddie’s gotta busy himself somehow, gotta do something– weirdly, he’s not in the mood to make a whole lot of noise. It’s not such a terrible day for working on his van, so he slams his toolbox on the ground and gives a couple dozen casual glances toward your bedroom window.

Your blinds still aren’t fixed. That’s got to have been shitty when you woke up with a splitting vodka headache and a shiner the size of Canada. 

Eddie keeps finding excuses to pace back and forth in perfect view of your window. Not in a peeping Tom sort of way, but in a way where he’d kind of like to see any sign of life from you. Even if you just rose from your bed like Nosferatu and gave him the finger. Then, he could relax. 

“Ed,” a gruff voice comes from the makeshift trailer porch, “fuck’re you doin’.” 

Those dulcet tones would belong to his beloved Uncle Wayne, who, ever since his hours got cut at the plant, has become unbearably observant of Eddie’s every movement. Wayne’s not a neglectful kind of father figure, not like his blinders-wearing real dad is, so he actually gets concerned when Eddie’s acting out of sorts. 

“Engine,” Eddie mumbles, pivoting fast like a kid caught doing something he shouldn’t, “Engine’s making hinky noises.”

“Sounded alright last night,” Wayne levels him instantly, “when you came home.” 

“Didn’t mean to wake ya,” he twists an oily rag in his hands, avoiding Wayne’s stony stare. 

“I was up.” He crosses his arms, leaning against the doorframe. God, whenever Wayne susses him out, it’s like drip torture. He’s slow as molasses with the confrontation on purpose, making Eddie sweat and out himself on every little fuck up he’s ever made. “You go in there?”

Chin jerks towards your trailer. Eddie’s shoulders shrug towards his ears, head tilting back. “Wayne, it’s not– she was real drunk, like blotto, I just–”

“You steer clear of that one.” It’s the definite nature with which Wayne says it that makes Eddie’s stomach drop. No prelude to it, no I know, kid, you were just tryin’ to do right by her. Nothing. 

“Wayne–”

“She ain’t what you think she is. Not if she’s anything like her bloodline.” 

He says this like the realization hasn’t hit Eddie like Carol hit you on Friday fight night. 

He says this like people haven’t been saying the same thing about Eddie for years.

–

Monday morning comes and you’re still somewhat suffering. A headache nags at your temple, but you pin that down to anxiety rather than an extended play of your hangover. 

It occurs to you that you should dress as down as possible today– realistically, of course, as you’d never be caught dead in sweatpants. You need comfort, you need something that feels like a well-worn blanket so you opt for a deep burgundy sweater dress that actually belonged to your mom in the 60s. 

You’d found it in the back of her closet when searching for a belt you knew she’d stolen from you and pulled it out. Mom! you chirped, How cute! How come you never wear this?

Oh, God, she’d cringed, batting the garment out of her way as she passed you in a cloud of Shalimar, Just throw that ratty thing out for me, would you?

But you didn’t. You kept it tucked away in the back of your closet and took it out when you needed it. When you needed to bury your face in it. Substitute it for a comfort she refused to give you. Which you realize is terrifically sad, but so’s life. 

The warm red is a distant cousin in the color family to the bruise under your eye. That bruise, it’s a glaring reminder of what a fucking loser you’ve become. The old you, the real you would never have stooped to that level– never had let them drag her down like that. But now you’re the kind of girl that screams and starts fights at parties, you guess. 

Your rage feels ugly in the cold light of day. 

You’re locking the door of the trailer behind you just as Munson emerges from his humble abode and it’s nothing short of awkward. Like you’d both seen each other naked or something.

You both stand there, in your relative doorways. His mouth gapes like he’s about to say hi, say something, and a memory comes back to you. Cold shock in the middle of a summer’s day. No one likes that. No one wants that. 

Regret stabs at you.

“Can you see it from there?” It’s the only thing you can think of to say, because you’re sure as fuck not saying hi. 

“What?”

“The bruise. Can– can you see it from over there?” 

Munson sort of half-snorts. “Not from here–”

“Ugh, thank god.”

“--but this is like, over fifteen feet away.” 

You roll your eyes, which hurts a lot, thanks guy, and walk toward his van. 

“Now?” you say, waving a hand under your eye, right where you’ve applied and blended and applied and blended a criminal amount of concealer. Munson leaves about a foot of space between you, on purpose, and you crane your neck back, on purpose. Reinstating the forcefield between you. 

“Oh yeah, you can barely even see that you got your ass kicked.”

“It’s not even eight in the morning, Munson. Do you really want to start your day with a knee to the balls?”

“You’re right. That’s usually an after-dinner activity,” he grins and jerks his head toward the van. “Need a ride?”

Need a ride? Like it’s the most ordinary, everyday thing in the world, Eddie Munson offering you a ride to school in his deathtrap of a van. Your stomach pulls at the sense memory of being in there on Friday night, and what you’ll look like getting out of it in the parking lot of Hawkins High. 

“No,” you say, shaking your head, definite and resolute. “I’m walking.” 

He scoffs. “C’mon. It’s too late to start walking now. You’ll be late for first period.” 

You scoff back, imitating him. “So what?”

“You’re never late for first period.” 

“I can be late– how the hell do you know I’m never late for first period?” 

“Because, dummy, I’m always late for first period,” he tells you, yanking open the passenger door, “And I sit behind you in History, and you’re always there when I come in, leaning back with your nose in some dumb book and your stupid hair all over my desk.” 

It’s true– you are always reading in history, because Kaminsky can’t teach for shit and you’ve already read ahead on the coursework anyway. You liked to rub that in his face by pulling out some unprescribed literature during class. Plus, no one you really care about is in your class, so you don’t have to worry about getting made fun of for having your nose in some dumb book. Illiterate jocks would never try that shit with you– nobody there would. 

Until now. 

And it’s true that Eddie Munson sits behind you, and barrels in like an idiotic excuse for a hurricane with some idiotic excuse for being late that you always scoff at, because does he ever get tired of his own bullshit. But after that brief cameo appearance in your day, you really do forget about him. 

Until now. 

“So?” he says, all expectant. 

And you consider it for a second, you really do– but you don’t think you can handle the blowback of leaving a party with Eddie Munson on Friday then turning up with him on Monday. Going to the same class. Where he sits behind you. It’s just… overexposure. 

The same realization must hit him, because all of a sudden he’s slamming the door shut with a roll of his eyes. “Whatever. Your tardy slip, babe.” You can’t help but think he sounds a little wounded. 

But fuck it. Fuck it! Since when do you stand around feeling sorry for Eddie Munson? 

Before you know it, the van roars out and leaves you in the dust. 

You don’t make it to school until after second period, because that so-called bus route a fifteen minute walk from the trailer park must not even exist, so you forge a note from your mom in the parking lot. 

As your fountain pen hovers over the paper, brainstorming an excuse, you consider pulling out the big guns– say you had to attend visitation day at the penitentiary. Use this disaster to your advantage for once; but you pull back. Scribble something about a doctor’s appointment and dot your mother’s ‘i’s with eerie precision.  

You make quick work of dropping the note off in reception– the uptick of being the kid of the town’s gossip beacon is some people still feel sorry for you. Some people weirdly include Janice, Principal Higgins’ secretary, who snatches the note from you before you can even reach the actual receptionist’s desk. 

“I’ll file that for you, dear,” she says, all coo-cooey with an unwelcome hand on your shoulder, “How are you and your poor mother doing these days? And your,” her croaky voice drops to a whisper, “dad? How is… he being treated?”

You blink at her, gripping the fountain pen in your hand. “Do you know what a shiv is, Janice?”

Just then, the bell trills and you take your leave, stepping out into the linoleum. 

Someone calls your name from down the hall. You crane your neck to see Ronnie Ecker jogging toward you, paper in hand. 

Now look, you’ve never had a problem with Ronnie Ecker. You can’t say you’re particularly fond of her but she’s smart; she keeps to herself and she was a decent lab partner during your junior year of dissecting frogs together. Squeamish, but that’s why you were there, to handle the scalpel. As much of a social outcast as she is, she’s not nearly as odious as the rest of them. That’s pretty goddamn remarkable amongst the Hawkins student body. 

She is also, you’ve come to notice, a resident of Forest Hills trailer park. 

“Hey!” she says, “Um, I noticed you missed first period and Kaminsky was handing our papers back so I figured you’d want yours…” 

“Why is everyone so obsessed with me missing first period?”

“Huh?”

“No– nothing,” you huff, taking the paper from her. A solid B on A+ material– told you Kaminsky couldn’t teach for shit. He’d be hearing from you about this. “Thanks for this, Ronnie.”

You start down the hall but notice Ronnie’s keeping in step with you. “I also just wanted to say– I heard about what happened Friday. And I think it’s sick, you standing up to Hagan like that. Asshole needed to be put in his place.” 

Well, there’s only one person she could have heard the nitty gritty of that news from. You know she’s trying to flatter you, but all you feel is a flame of embarrassment, plus a touch of anger– even though the news has easily circulated the school hallways by now. 

Along with the rumors of you taking Hargrove, Buckley and Munson, and not in a fight. 

“Well. Y’know. I was pretty wasted,” you attempt to brush it off and you see Ronnie deflate a little. 

Like you’re not the blazing hero someone made you out to be. 

“Okay, but is it true you had a threesome with Billy Hargrove and Robin Buckley and Robin was wearing the Tigers mascot suit?”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.”

–

Classes pass in a monotonous blur, like most Mondays, but worse. That would be thanks to the extra shot of dread that’s served with your cafeteria meal of a wilted salad and soda. Last week at lunchtime, you at least had a tenuous standing with your former circle– you could still sit between Tina and Nancy Wheeler and suffer Tina’s thinly veiled jabs at you with a semi-placid look on your face. Nancy would look at you with eyes full of pity, and you’d want to punch her face in, but you’d be fine. 

But now, as you stand in the cafeteria swirling with people and catch the death glares from your old table (save for Nancy and Steve Harrington, who just straight up refuse to make eye contact with you), you’re just about ready to snap. 

Your flight instinct tells you to toss the tray out of your clammy hands and run, and keep running, until you disappear into the woods behind the school, never to be found. Your body becomes mulch before anyone remembers to look for you. Maybe you make really good fertilizer and a couple of pretty weeds sprout up from where you die. 

Your bruise, under its flaking layers of concealer, throbs twice– as if to say, don’t you fucking dare.

You make a confident beeline for the table, chin tilted and eyes set in a stare that could be categorized as withering, if only it was trained on anybody in particular. You grab a chair that some dumb underclassman is about to sit in and drag it with you, legs screeeeeching across the waxed floor. 

Who gives a shit who you were on Friday night. 

“I can sit here, right?” you say, and place your tray on the table next to Ronnie Ecker. 

She just stares at you for a hot second. That’s too long to stay standing in uncertainty, so you settle your stolen chair at the table and sit next to her. 

Ronnie isn’t the only one staring, however– the rest of these dorks, all in their matching t-shirts with Satan’s fiery head emblazoned across them, are watching you with their mouths agape. 

“Is this a prank or something?” one of them, a curly-haired freshman, says. 

This question is directed toward their fearless leader, decked out in denim and leather at the head of the table. That is to say, the direct opposite end of the table that you’re sitting at. 

“That’s no way to greet a lady, Gareth,” Munson says, feigning coolness but you can tell he’s a little flustered. The dead giveaway is in the way he misses his mac and cheese with his fork, the way his solid gaze double-blinks. You’ve thrown him off game– and because he’s impossible not to overhear sometimes, you know that game is all he’s got going on at this table. 

There’s that feeling again– point to Lacy. 

“To what do we owe the pleasure?”

This is Munson’s version of what the hell do you think you’re doing, but you choose to ignore him. It’ll drive him insane, and you know that, glaring red warning sign that he is. Instead, you flash a smile at the freshman that almost makes him pass out, Cupid’s arrow struck straight through the heart. 

You cross your legs and angle your body toward Ronnie– and by extension, in the direction of your old table. You can see Carol burying her face in Tommy’s shoulder, the both of them on the verge of losing bowel control with laughter. Laughter at you. 

Who gives a shit who you were before Friday night.

“So, Ronnie,” you say, taking a sip of your Tab, “You get up to anything fun this weekend?”

author's notes: let me get ahead of everything and say yes, i am absolutely fucking with the timeline. suspend your disbelief, my beautiful babies, and enjoy steve, carol, tommy and ronnie ecker still being in high school because I SURE WILL. but on an absolutely serious note, thank you so much for all the support and each and every note you’ve put on the chapters so far. i seriously, seriously appreciate it. now, the notes: - you think eddie munson doesn’t fuck with pee-wee herman heavy? you think he didn’t watch this movie in reefer rick’s, high out of his gourd, and think oh yeah i love this freak? get REAL! RIP paul reubens, this one’s for you. specially every time i mention a handjob - eddie munson also has charlie kelly disease - speaking of iterations of always sunny characters, much like frank reynolds, there’s not a get rich quick scheme al munson hasn’t tried. we’ll get into that a little more… later - admittedly, the whole ‘face eating on bath salts’ thing didn’t gain traction until the 00s, but if hawkins is going to be ahead of its time in anything, it’s fucked up shit happening to people! - did you notice how i blended eddie and lacy’s povs in the van? i’m going to continue doing that in moments where they’re on a similar ~wavelength~ - jimi hendrix did unfortunately die of asphixiation, but instead of thinking about that, watch this sick video of him playing guitar that eddie definitely has committed to memory - RONNIE ECKER KLAXON. i know that in flight of icarus she’s described as tall, but that hasn’t stopped me fancasting her as ayo edebiri in an eddie munson wig - at this point, you might be thinking damn, everyone sure seems to hate each other in this story. like, why is nancy wheeler catching strays? i’m here to remind you it’s the 1980s and teenagers kind of suck. play the track - thanks again for all the love! you can keep this crazy train going by liking, commenting, reblogging and generally showing me the same kindness you’ve shown me so far. love u my little hellcats

[syoddeye]

bespoke

ghost x transmasc!reader | 1k words tags: brief, mild mentions of transphobic experiences. simon riley's terrible and dirty jokes. brief scene at the end with makeshift restraints. otherwise, fluff. a/n: got hit with a wave of dysphoria. wrote this. bon appétit. 💀

He ties your tie. Insists. 

It’s not like you don’t know how. You do. You walked a tightrope for years. Lived through the height of twee and dapper, collected and wore neckties and bowties unironically. Tried and suffered through all types of aesthetics and accessories to find your style. But this is the first big to-do since you hard launched your ‘new’ identity. The first time you’ll wear such an outfit where you don’t force a laugh or tightly smile as others call it a gimmick or costume. Where your family isn’t around to call it the ‘offbeat’ fashion of a quirky niece or an eccentric daughter.

When you dressed, hands shaking with excitement, perhaps you messed up the knot. It looked passable. You weren’t about to ask him to check it. A lifetime of teasing and backhanded compliments led to a fierce independent streak. Nobody could pester you if they couldn’t get close. ‘Course, nobody could help, either.

But because it’s him, you allow it.

It’s been a long, lonely road. Worth it, though, in the end. To find and carve out your path. To meet the man who’s served as your most steadfast support, confidant, and protector. Whose hands smooth your lapels and straighten the knot. Whose eyes catch you staring and soften when he sees how glassy yours look.

“We don’t have to go.”  

“I want to.”

“You’re upset.”

“Believe me, I’m not. Far from it.” 

You wipe a pesky tear and survey yourself in the mirror. The secondhand suit fits like a glove, modified to perfection. The result of someone’s pestering. An indulgence difficult to accept when originally agreed upon but a triumph in the moment. It pays its dividends in confidence, making you stand straighter and feel as though you might float.

Simon bends, tucking his chin over your shoulder. The silk mask obscuring his face matches his suit, pure black, of course. His eyes drag down your reflections as his arms thread under yours, tugging you backward into his chest. 

“We clean up nice.”

“One of us does.” You smile, a bit pained from his continued sweetness. “I look like I raided my dad’s wardrobe.”

You regret it the moment you say it because you know how stupid it sounds. Hours of tailoring and craft adorn you. Enough care and attention to detail for it to appear completely bespoke and custom—not stolen or borrowed.

A big hand skirts up, fingers and thumb slotting over your face. He gently squeezes your cheeks. A habit when he thinks you’re acting foolish or chirping incessantly. He presses until your lips fold in an artificial pout.

“You got a mouth tonight.”

“‘M told s’good f’kissing.” You force out, not bothering to even try and remove his hand.

Simon squishes your cheeks a moment longer, staring hard in the mirror. Studying. He lets go and presses his lips to your temple. 

“Think you’re funny?”

“You usually laugh.”

“Not when you joke at your own expense.” 

The pout that appears on your face is genuine this time, and so is the instinct to flee. It wouldn’t be the first time you’ve tried to run away from the kindness of Simon Riley. It’s certainly not the first time he flexes his muscle, molding himself to you.

“Settle. Talk t’me.”

You shake your head and try to squirm free despite knowing all the good that’ll do.

“We’re going to be late if we don’t leave now.”

“Then we’ll be late.”

“To a wedding? Simon we can’t be the people that walk in after the bride.”

“I’ll walk her down myself if ya don’t start talkin’.”

It’s anyone’s guess how serious he is about that. Erring on the side of caution, you fuss a second more, then finally voice the fears eating you alive. The laundry list of worst-case scenarios and what-ifs. Your thoughts bend to dread like flowers track the sun.

“If anythin’ happens, we’ll handle it. Together.” Simon pinches your hips. “Or alone, in the small hours, after I drop you at home.”

That isn’t a joke. Simon doesn’t make empty threats. Not about that.

“Simon—“

“How many times do I gotta tell you, to get it through your skull, hm?” He murmurs, littering emphatic kisses over the side of your head. Nipping your neck. If he wasn’t holding you, you’d be a puddle.

“You can’t get rid of me. You got me, love. Let me worry about the hard things.” A squeak tears out when a broad hand skims down the front of your suit and cups the front of your trousers. His grip pulses over the packer, and you nearly skyrocket through the ceiling. “If you’re good and check in with me like you’re supposed to, I’ll have a nice hard thing for you later.”

To save face, as if you aren’t practically drooling at that, you shoot him a look in the mirror. Wrinkle your nose and curl your lip. The glint in your eye is unmistakable, however. 

“Simon,” You groan in feigned disgust. “You’re terrible.”

“Don’t I know it. C’mon.” He releases you entirely, stepping back to adjust himself and his shirt collar in the mirror. “Price’ll kill me if we’re late.”

Hours later, back home after a night of celebration, he ties your tie. 

Tight enough to keep your wrists together, loose enough to feel safe. He strips you slowly and thoughtfully. Takes his time setting each element aside. He inflicts sweet torture, showering you with praise and echoing compliments paid to you at the reception.

So handsome. Lookin’ braw. Don’t let the bride see ya.

Usually, such words would do you in. Gnaw and bite like flies, make you assume the worst. Assume people were just being polite and lying. But…Simon wouldn’t lie. As he looms over you, hooking a leg with one arm and bracketing your head with the other, he tells you to settle. Reminds you to let him worry about the hard things.

And because it’s him, you allow it.

[abellyfulloffriends]

Storm Shelter

It's here! I apologize for the huge delay, this story went through two rewrites because I just wasn't happy with the tone! Regardless I am so happy to finally share it with you all!

***

I remember you told me thunderstorms made you uncomfortable, while it wasn’t the worst thing for you to handle, you definitely couldn’t sleep with one around. You had also told me you couldn’t think about anything else until you knew you were safe. Every storm since then, you came to me or called me so that you could find that feeling.

Tonight, you didn’t.

It was abnormally cold for early spring, the open bedside window letting in a cold draft causing the curtains to flap in the wind. It didn’t feel right not having you here while the storm raged outside. Normally, when a storm rolled through, you would sit in my lap, or cuddle yourself to my chest. I would read to you softly to have you focus on something else.

Originally, I would have waited a little longer for you, but the storm became violent. The lashing rain sounded like rocks against the roof, and water began soaking the windowsill. Figuring closing the window would help, I stand from my chair.

I stare out the window to the street below. The storm is getting worse; the rain has completely overtaken the window, almost looking underwater. The rainwater flows through the wind, lashing at the side of the building. My shoulders are tense as the storm continues to rage.

A sudden flash of light nearly blinds me, combined with the deafening shriek of a lightning bolt searing a large crack in the sky. I grab my chest, startled. I hear you scream from the other side of the wall. Immediately after everything goes dark as the power fails. I gather myself quickly and hastily force the window shut. I turn and call out your name, attempting to hide the fact the storm is getting to me as well. Over the rumbling of thunder, I faintly hear you shout something. It’s coming from down the hall.

Under the nightstand, I retrieve my emergency lantern.

I need to find you.

***

Your scream seemed to have come from the far end of the place. I check the laundry room first, gently knocking on the door. I don’t get a response, but I decide to keep checking. You thankfully aren’t in any of the machines. You don’t seem to be in the side closet either.

Turning my search to the bathroom, I pull the shower curtains aside and look through the top cabinets. Being so small, you tend to hide in dark corners to shield yourself. After searching one side of the room, more thunder crashes outside, bright lights glowing through the foggy glass. I hear you whimper close by. I announce myself softly.

I notice the cabinet door under the sink is ajar. I tap it with my fingers and peer inside. There I finally find you, your knees up against your chest, and your hands covering your mouth. Tears stream down your cheeks, and you sob softly. Kneeling, I set the lantern next to me. The light gets your attention.

You hesitantly look up and lock eyes with me, then look away. Attempting to reassure you, I smile lightly, “Hey, it’s me, I’m here now.”

You mumble an apology, hugging your knees tighter. I hold out my hand, palm up. You pause before placing one of your hands into my fingers. You let out a shaky breath and begin to speak a little clearer. You apologize again, expressing regret. You had thought you could have handled it alone this time. You said having to admit to a bad call was tough on you.

I didn’t agree at all.

“It wasn’t a bad decision, and you don’t have to feel ashamed for it.” I move my hand further into the cabinet, “May I?” You begin unfolding yourself and grabbing onto me. I wipe your tears with my thumb.

“Do you want to go back to my room and I can read to you?” You nestle your face into my hand and nod.

***

I set you and the lantern on my nightstand, I pick up a bottle of water from the closet and sit down on the edge of the bed. At this point the storm has started to move out of the area, the thunder growing more distant and less frequent. I take a swing of the water, you seem to look in my direction and look away when I finish swallowing.

I set down the water and motion to the stack of books, figuring you’d want me to read to you. You shake your head. “No?" You shuffle your feet, hands clasped in front of you. “Well, what did you have in mind?” You gesture to my midsection. I look down and back up, slightly confused, “What are you suggesting?” You look off to the side, rubbing your arms. “Do you want to cuddle?” You look at me directly and begin to say something, but turn away again.

Then I get the memo.

“So,” I flash a toothy grin and slowly pat my stomach. “You want me to eat you?” You lock eyes with me, and smile shyly.

Every now and then you'd let me do this, something I had first suggested years ago, and ever since you knew it was safe, you always took the opportunity. “I hope you’re ready, but first-” I lean in close, whispering to you, "I just want a small taste." I drag my tongue over your face.

Your heart starts to flutter. Excited, you hold out your arms above your head. I reach down and cup you in my hands, your small body fitting snugly in my hands. I gently lift you from the nightstand, bringing you up to eye level, blowing a little air over you as I sigh. You wiggle in my grasp, barely containing yourself. I lick my lips and part them, rolling out and dropping my tongue, warm breath cascading over you. My open mouth is a clear view right down to the back of my throat.

Gingerly, you place one hand on my tongue, then the other. Your hands feel cold on the warm muscle. You exclaim how soft it is, then start rubbing your hands over my taste buds. I lift your body as you pull yourself in, extending my tongue under your torso, and releasing my grip around you, grasping you with only a single hand. I hold your lower half with my fingers as I tilt my head back. You slide in a little more.

I try not to be too greedy with you, but you don’t seem to want to wait as you attempt to squirm deeper. I lift you to my palate and let go of your legs, maneuvering my tongue under your feet. I tilt my head back and drop my tongue, letting you slide down, the thick saliva squelching as you slip. I open my throat and swallow with a resounding wet glrk, downing you like a shot. I take my hand and place it over my neck, feeling the small bulge travel past my sternum. I take a sigh as I level my head. Your trip down doesn't take long, my gullet works like a water slide, and you soon reach a stopping point. Your weight shifts as you reach your destination, squeezing through and dropping into my stomach.

You take a moment to gather yourself, running your hands through the folds of the fleshy walls, my belly growling in response. A smile creeps across your face. You attempt to find purchase to steady yourself but it’s too slick. You end up conceding and letting my belly cradle you, sinking further as the sounds of my heartbeat quicken. I slowly lay myself down, careful not to jostle you in there. Pulling the covers over me, I reach over and turn off the lantern. The storm is barely audible off in the distance. I begin massaging my stomach.

My stomach descends on you as I press down, gurgles reverberating around you. Your eyes feel heavy after tonight’s excitement, and the rhythmic breathing and heartbeat, accompanied by the occasional noise from my belly, have made you feel sleepy. You yawn lightly, stretching yourself out across the tight chamber. My belly relaxes and forms snuggly around you. You start to doze as you lay inside my stomach.

You know you’re safe, tucked away where nothing can hurt you, and you forget about the storm, everything around you feels like my presence, the feeling of isolation you felt curled up under the bathroom sink is gone, I’m the only thing on your mind now.

I place both hands protectively over you. Feeling your movements slow as you fall asleep, I close my eyes and focus on feeling fullness and weight in my stomach. I sigh deeply and relax.

“Sweet dreams.”

[cyliegvf]

Date Night (jake x f!reader)

This is my first fic so please be gentle :) I'm really excited to share it with everyone! I hope you enjoy and I'd love feedback 🤍

Summary: Jake takes you out after a long week of work. Things get spicy ;)

Warning: 18+ MINORS DNI!! oral (m and f receiving), fingering, unprotected preventative sex (wrap it before you tap it!!), sir kink, slight daddy kink, choking, spanking, language, fluffy aftercare

Please let me know if I've forgotten anything!

Word count: 6.5k

Reaching above the kitchen island to grab a pan from its hook you heard the door open and Jake’s jacket being thrown on the back of the chair in the entryway.

“Baby?” Jake called out while whipping his head around the corner.

“I’m in the kitchen!” you called out not realizing he was already prancing over to you until you heard the sounds of his footsteps and turned to see him with a concerned look on his face. “Uh oh. What’s wrong?”

Jake gently took the pan from your hands and placed it on the counter. “Well, you see…” he starts “it's a little disheartening coming home to see my beautiful girl still in her work clothes and trying to start dinner after I know she’s had a hard week.” he says while wrapping his arms around your waist and placing his head on your shoulder so his chest is pressed firmly to you back.

You sighed and leaned into his touch as he placed an intimate kiss on your temple. “Yeah, I know but I wanted to go ahead and get it done with so I didn’t have to force myself to do it later.” you said as Jake started to sway side to side.

“Well, I don’t want you to do anything besides getting your pretty little ass out of this kitchen and into our room so you can get changed.” he said with his lips pressed into the crown of your head “I’m taking you on a date tonight, young lady.”

You turned your head to face Jake “Oh you are?” you challenged with a smirk on your face.

“Yes and I don’t want to hear any lip about it.” he said releasing you from his grasp and swatting your ass lightly “Now get out of here.” You gave Jake a quick peck on the lips before heading out of the kitchen and up the stairs to your shared bedroom.

As you walked into your closet you pulled your work shirt over your head and throw it into the laundry bin in the corner along with your slacks. You stared at the wall of clothes before you when the thought crossed your mind.

Turning on your heels and heading back down into the kitchen in nothing but your bra and panties you saw Jake sitting on a bar stool at the island staring at his phone. You walked up behind him and ran your hands up his back, over his shoulders, down his chest, and whispered in his ear “Where are you taking me tonight? I don’t know what to wear.”

He didn’t look up, just let out a light chuckle. “Casual.” is all he said as you let out a huff and pushed his shoulders lightly before you started to retreat out of the kitchen. Before you turned the corner, Jake looked up and saw you and your lack of clothes, letting out a small grunt. With your back turned you just grinned and headed up the stairs back to the room.

For some reason, Jake wanting to take you out and treat you after your long week really made you want to treat him right back. So the moment you stepped back into the closet you stripped completely and ran over to your lingerie drawer to find your best pieces for Jake. You slipped on one of his favorites. An all-black lacy number that leaves very little to the imagination.

You pulled on a pair of black wash skinny jeans and grabbed your black leather Chelsea boots from the shoe rack before sauntering over to where Jake had all his button-down shirts hung in the closet. You ran your fingers down the line of shirts before pulling out and slipping on his light blue denim button-down and buttoning it just low enough to expose not too much but just enough of your chest to keep Jake’s attention. You pulled your light brown peacoat off the hanger and draped it over your arm before heading downstairs and back into the kitchen.

“Ready?” Jake asks before turning to look at you.

“Ready.” you say with the most innocent smile on your face you could muster.

He just looks at you and grins. “We’re matching.” he says with a matter-of-fact tone. And you were. Jake was wearing his favorite light was jeans that had patched up and down the legs with his boots and a beige button down almost fully open save for two buttons holding it together. His favorite coin necklace adorned his chest and he had three bracelets around his right wrist. One being his fisherman's bracelet the the other two being different styles of a st. Croix bracelet that you had been wearing as well.

“Mmmm yes but I look so much better.” you say walking over to him and draping your arms over his shoulders.

“Damn right.” he hums while wrapping his arms around your waist and planting a soft peck on your lips. “Let's go.”

The car ride to the restaurant Jake had picked out for your date is innocent and filled with small talk between the two of you. Mainly about what the boys were up to in the studio. Jake wanted you to be able to talk about your week so you felt better but you kept steering the conversation away from yourself and onto him.

Once at the restaurant, Jake jumped out of the car and jogged over to your side to open your door, and offered his hand to you. “Why thank you, sir.” you grin and Jake's hand finds the small of your back as you walk towards the entrance of the restaurant. “Trying to butter me up I presume?”

“If how you were acting before we left the house is any indication of what tonight is going to be like, then you're definitely not the one who needs buttering.” Jake whispers into your ear as you reach the hostess at the entrance.

The two of you are guided to your table and sit and you couldn’t help but notice the way your host kept sneaking glances at Jake. She even made sure to bend perfectly at the waist over the table to hand Jake his menu. For most girls, this would make them self-conscious or upset but the way Jake was holding back laughs across the table made you have to bite the inside of your lip to hold back the thunderous laughter threatening to spill out of your mouth.

Jake saw your attempt and nudged your leg with his foot under the table in a way of telling you to “keep it together” which only made it harder to keep your laughter in. “Well looks like she didn’t need any buttering either.” Jake blurted out as the hostess walked away from your table. This was the last straw and you busted out laughing causing a few heads to turn your way even though the restaurant Jake had chosen wasn’t a necessarily quiet one.

Jake looked at you with blown-out eyes and a boyish smirk on his face as you threw your hand over your mouth to try and cover the sound of your cackles. “God I love your laugh.” he gushed “I love seeing you happy.”

“Thank you, baby” you smile while rubbing your foot up his calf in the most innocent way. “I really need this tonight.”

Dinner went on and you and Jake kept making jokes everytime the hostess would come and check on you two-well mainly Jake- making it difficult to actually eat your food. After dessert, he grabbed the check and guided you out of the restaurant and back into the passenger seat of his car.

On the ride back home Jake was silent. You assumed it was due to the fact that the two of you had just eaten and he always got sleepy after a big meal. That idea dissipated from your mind when you felt his warm, calloused hand grab the inner part of your thigh. You laid your hand atop his and intertwined your fingers as a simple act of intimacy. Grinning to himself, Jake brought your hand up to his lips and placed a small kiss on the back of it, making a smile break across your lips as you looked at him with the dashboard light hitting the strong features of his face.

Your smile fell just as fast as it appeared when Jake placed your hand back in your lap and placed his hand on the center console between you. You looked at him, brows furrowed in concern as you tried to understand what was going through his mind. You knew Jake better than almost anyone after being together for over three years, but right now he was sending you mixed signals.

“Jake, what’s up?” you finally say with a concerned edge to your voice making Jake quickly turn his head to look at you before bringing his eyes back to the road.

“What? Nothing.” he defends with the most casual tone.

“You’re sending me mixed signals right now. What’s going on?” you ask.

It’s silent for a few seconds longer than you’d like before he responds. “I’m just really trying to practice self-control right now Y/N.” Jake brought his hand back to you but it's now settled further up your thigh making it very clear to you exactly what urge he was fighting.

“What seems to be the problem, baby?” you ask in a sultry tone causing him to squeeze your thigh much harder.

“Mmm don't be a brat Y/N.” Jake warns through a clenched jaw.

“What’s got you all like this Jakey?” You rarely used that pet name for him, but when you did he knew you were feeling a little rebellious and were about to start pushing some buttons.

“Y/N, don’t. Not right now. Just wait until we get home.” Jake warned.

“Don’t what?” you ask with the most innocent voice you could muster. He just shook his head and you let it go silent for a few moments before you threw the seatbelt lying across your chest over your head and turned so your back was against the passenger side door, looking directly at Jake.

“You know what. Stop it.” you heard Jake say as you started to very slowly unbutton your-his-shirt so the tops of your breasts were in plain sight.

“What baby, you don’t want to look at me?”

You saw Jake’s eye flash between the road and you and noted the way his chest started to rise and fall a bit faster than usual. It wasn’t often that you were able to have this dominant stance with Jake. Most of the time he controlled what happened inside the bedroom, you were putty in Jake’s hands at any other given moment, and honestly, you loved it, but you can’t argue with the fact that having this hold and control over him at this moment wasn’t turning you on. You knew it wasn’t going to last long so you had to make the most of it while you could.

You continued unbuttoning your shirt until you could throw it off your shoulders. Reaching over the console to place the shirt in Jake’s lap and purposefully making the effort to slowly and firmly drag your hand over him, just to feel how hard he already was. Jake tried to catch your hand before you drew it away and ran it down your almost bare chest. You noticed Jake’s eye cast over to you while he viciously tried to stay focused on the road. Yet another point for you.

“Y/N. Y/M/N. Y/L/N.” he let out a ragged huff of air. “I swear to God if you don’t stop right now I’m going to have you bent over my knee the second we get home.” You hummed at the thought of finding his handprint on you the next morning and it went quiet for a moment.

Jake pulled into the garage and the door closed behind the car. He was visibly trying to control himself with his nostrils flaring, knuckles white from his grip still on the steering wheel, and veins popping out from his hands and neck. You wanted to give him one last little tease before you let him ruin you, so you leaned across the console one last time, making a show of bending over just as your hostess had done earlier in the evening and whispering in his ear. “I think I’d like that very much, sir.”

He let out a ragged breath almost fogging the windows around him. “Say it again.” it was him begging and commanding you at the same time. Your mouth opened and closed while you thought of your next move. Choosing to gain another point for yourself you nibbled at his ear taking his gold hoop between your teeth before abruptly pulling away, opening your door, and heading inside the house.

When you closed the door you grinned to yourself before deciding what your next move was going to be. Choosing to finally give Jake what he wanted you stepped out of your boots and jeans and ran as fast as you could to your bedroom before Jake was hot on your tail.

Closing the bedroom door behind you, you decided to simply drape yourself over the fluffy comforter laying on your shared bed. The white comforter in contrast to the black lingerie you chose tonight was sure to draw Jake’s attention as soon as he opened the door.

You lay there for a few minutes longer than you had hoped to. Squirming in anticipation for what Jake was about to do to you. Your mind was flooded with memories and thoughts of Jake when he was in his extremely dominant persona with you. It wasn’t something new, but it was definitely something you were hoping would continue to develop tonight. That’s when you heard the door to the garage slam. It startled you out of your thoughts but also caused a large grin to spread across your face.

“Y/N!” Jake yelled through your home. Venom tearing through his voice.

“Oh shit.” you whispered to yourself. The thought of whether or not you had taken it too far crossed your mind as you heard Jake’s heavy footsteps climb up the steps and to your bedroom door.

The door opened and Jake casually walked in completely ignoring your almost naked body spread across your bed. The only way he saw you was by the mirror on the vanity. You caught his eye as he went to unbutton his shirt. He gave you nothing. No sign of anger, frustration, or lust. Just a blank face observing you for a split second through the reflective glass before looking down at his hands that were still fiddling with his shirt.

Once his shirt was completely opened he turned around and leaned back onto the antique piece of furniture, scanning your body from your feet to your eyes. “What are you doing Y/N?” You just laid there. He raised his eyebrow in a way of telling you he was waiting for your response.

“Waiting for you baby.” It came out more breathy than you had wanted it to but you didn’t really care at this point. Your body was aching for Jake to ravish you and take his pleasure in any way he wanted.

“Why are you waiting for me?” he asked plainly. You opened your mouth to answer but he cut you off before you could. “After what you pulled in the car, you’d be lucky if I even slept in the same bed as you tonight.” You felt a pang in your heart. That was the last thing you wanted.

You sat up on the bed and for some reason, tears were starting to brim your eyes. “Ja-”

“But you don’t want that, do you now?” You shook your head. “That's what I thought.�� He pushed himself off the vanity and slowly started approaching you.

You sat up on your knees. “Jake, baby, please just let me love you. That's all I want.” you said as he finally got close enough for you to brush your hand across his cheek and cradle his jaw.

He stood there for a moment staring into you with his now almost fully blackened eyes. It felt like minutes went by before he slowly leaned and placed the softest kiss upon your lips. “You want to love me baby?” he asked.

“Yes. Please. Please, Jake, that's all I want.” you moaned out. It was almost embarrassing. He hadn’t even touched you and you were completely falling apart for him.

“Stand up and make me feel good,” he commanded.

Within a split second, you were off your bed and standing right in front of him, practically shaking.

“Undress me.” yet another command that fell from his perfectly pink and plump lips.

You quickly grabbed the collar of his shirt and started to rip it off of him, but before it passed his shoulders he grabbed your wrist. “Nuh-uh. No, ma’am.” He scolded. “I said make me feel good, not rip off my clothes. Slowly baby.” Jake guided you by your wrist to slowly pull his shirt off of his frame. Once it hit the ground he guided your hand to his belt and then let go. You looked at him hesitantly. “Go ahead lover.” he said gently. You don’t know when and you don’t know why but the mood had changed from desperate and vengeful to sensual and hungry within a matter of seconds.

As you undid Jake’s belt you got down on your knees in front of him. Popping the button and zipper of his jeans, you looked up at him through your lashes and started to pull them down his legs. He stepped out of them and back in front of you. Without breaking eye contact you reached out and slowly dragged your hand over his achingly hard cock enticing a small moan to fall from his lips.

“Stop teasing Y/N.” This brought you back to the reality that Jake was still in charge. You opened your mouth and licked across in hard-on still hidden underneath his underwear. “If you’re going to tease I’ll go back to the restaurant and let the hostess take care of me.” he threatened though you knew he would never do that. Just as much as Jake had you in the palm of his hand, you had Jake in yours. It was a constant game of push and pull, but tonight you were willing to bend any which way for him.

You reached up and started to shimmy the waistband of his underwear down his legs and his cock sprung free practically hitting his abdomen. Your mouth watered at the sight and you felt yourself dripping with wetness still tucked away in the black lace panties Jake had yet to say anything about. The tip of his cock was bright red and leaking pre-cum. “C’mon baby. Do what you do best. Put it in that pretty little mouth of yours.” you practically moaned just at his words.

You could resist any longer. You opened your mouth and let your tongue run from the bottom of his shaft to the very tip, enticing the most beautiful sound from your boyfriend above you. You grabbed his cock with one hand, his balls in the other, and started to run your tongue along his leaking tip. Trying hard not to get carried away you closed your eyes. Jake noticed right away and grabbed both sides of your face. “Nuh uh baby, you gotta keep looking at me.” he said breathlessly. You opened your eyes to the beautiful sight of Jake above you. Cheeks pink, head thrown back in pleasure, and his Adam's apple bobbing as he tried to control the noise coming from his mouth.

The sight itself sent you spiraling and you began to slide your mouth up and down his cock. He let out a guttural moan making you soak your panties to the point you were sure that they’d be sticking to you when it was time to discard them. Jake gently pulled your hair into a makeshift ponytail to keep it out of the way and you were prepared for him to start fucking his cock down your throat, but he didn’t, and in all honesty, you were a bit disappointed.

You let go of him with a pop and looked up at him with the biggest doe eyes possible. “Jake…”

“Yeah…” he said breathlessly, head still thrown back and chest heaving.

“I want you to fuck my throat.” His head snapped down to where you were below him and he gave you his iconic ‘Chesire cat’ grin.

“Mmmm. I can do that.” he said as he licked his bottom lip. An act that had you drooling every time he did it.

You opened your mouth and the grip on your hair tightened right before he shoved his cock back into your mouth and down your throat. You tried not to gag and relax as tears started to form and run down your face. Jake just looked down at you, mouth agape as pants fell from his lips, his hips snapping back and forth. “God baby I can see my cock in your throat. I think I’m gonna cum…” he practically growled. His eyes snapped shut and after a few more deep thrusts he pulled out of your mouth. A string of spit still connected you to his cock as you looked up at him and smiled. He dropped your hair, took his thumb, and ran it over your chin to wipe you clean.

“Stand up, babygirl.” he said, still holding your face in his hand and you were up in a split second.

“What do you want me to do sir?” you said as you practically gasped for air. You could feel your heart beating out of your chest and you were certain that Jake could hear it clear as day. You were uncertain about what Jake’s next move was going to be.

“You know I have to punish you for what you did in the car right?” he asked you like he was talking to a child, trying to explain why they were in trouble after doing something they were told not to. You slowly nodded. The only thought running through your brain at that moment was what he could possibly be about to do to your body to make up for your disobedience. “Words Y/N. I need to hear you, baby. I need to know that you’re okay with this.” There he was. Your sweet boyfriend peeking through his tough persona at this very moment. But you knew it wasn’t going to last.

“Yes, sir. I understand.” you simply responded.

“That’s my girl.” he grinned. “You remember your safe word?” he asked, running his palms up and down the backs of your arms.

“Mhm.” you nodded. “Black flag.” you giggled at the silly safe word Jake had set for you the first night you two had trudged into this territory. It happened to be the first Halloween you two had spent together and Jake just so happened to be dressed as a pirate that night little to your surprise.

You were brought back to the present when you heard the ripping of lace. You looked down to see Jake had torn apart the front of your bra. “Jake! Those are expensive!”

“Oh you’ll get over it.” he responded. He quickly tugged at one of your taught nipples and you yelped at the sensation. He brought his tongue to the same nipple to soothe the pain and a guttural moan ripped its way through your chest. He started kissing, nipping, and biting all over your chest ensuring he was leaving marks on you. It was one of his favorite things, on the both of you. Whenever he got home from tour and had a significant break he would let you mark him anywhere and everywhere. Always right before he would leave again he would make sure to leave as many dark bruises as possible on every inch of your skin as “souvenirs to remember me by,” he would call them. Moans of his name and curses constantly fell from your lips as he continued his efforts.

“Jake, baby, please, I need you.” you begged.

“What makes you think you’re allowed to request anything from me right now?” he scolded.

Your mouth opened and closed in search of a response but as you were about to finally respond Jake finally crashed his lips into yours. A kiss that if anyone else had seen they would’ve been embarrassed. Teeth and tongues clashing together in a messy dance of passion. He broke away much sooner than you’d hoped and shoved you back onto the bed, a gasp leaving your lips as you felt the soft comforter on your skin once more.

He looked down at you from his stop and the end of the bed. “You better be a good girl and do as you’re told if you want to cum tonight.” he said, staring straight into your soul while pointing his finger at you, again, like he was disciplining a child.

“Yes, sir.” are the only words that you could get to fall from your mouth. Your brain was dizzy from the sight above you. Jake in all his glory, completely bare to you with the glow of the bedside lamp illuminating the divots and high points across his body. A few droplets of sweat already forming along his hairline ripping away the illusion of his cool and calm persona.

Jake smirked at the helpless look on your face as he climbed onto the bed between your legs and started trailing open-mouthed kisses from your cheek to your jaw, and down your throat to the sweet post where your neck and shoulder meet and biting, hard, pulling an animalistic noise from your chest. You felt him smile against your skin before continuing down your chest, between the valley of your breasts, and down your tummy until he bit the waistband of your soaked panties before releasing them from his mouth making them snap against your skin.

He brought his fingers to your center and started rubbing your clothed clit. “God, baby. You’re soaking wet. Did I do this to you?” He grinned up at you.

“It's always you Jake.” it was a whisper. So quiet you weren’t even sure he heard it. The only indication was Jake’s head tipping to the side with a confused look on his face before he responded…

“That’s not my name, darling.” that god-forsaken pet name. He knew what it did to you and he was using it to his advantage.

“You, sir!” you practically screamed, so eager for him to touch you in any way. “Always fucking you!”

“Atta girl.” he grabbed the sides of your panties and ripped them down your legs. Before you even had time to process he forced your legs apart and wrapped his arms around your thighs. His mouth hovered over your core and you could feel his breath, driving you crazy. “God, darling. You’re fucking dripping. You really can’t control yourself can you?”

You squirmed under his touch. “Hold still and be patient Y/N.” Before you could respond he licked from the dripping hole of your cunt to your clit with a hum causing you to throw your head back into the pillows. Jake noticed instantly and pulled his mouth away from you. “Look at me, Y/N.” he warned with venom in his voice. Your eyes shot down to him between your legs.

Once he knew he had your undivided attention he dove back into your pussy. Viciously sucking your clit into his mouth, making you release an almost pornographic moan. He hummed into you. The vibrations bringing you even closer to the edge. As if his mouth wasn’t enough, without warning he pushed two fingers into you and started curling them, instantly catching your g-spot.

“Yes! B-baby right there. You found it!” you yelped

He pulled his mouth from you but sped up his fingers before saying “You think I don’t know where my girl's sweet spot is? You must think so little of me.” Attaching his mouth back to your clit you felt the bubbling in your stomach start to spill over the edge. You didn’t even have the chance to warn Jake before he ripped his fingers from your heat and detached his mouth from your clit. “You don't get to cum yet.” You whimpered at the loss of touch and looked at him with the most fucked-out face possible.

Jake grabbed your throat and brought himself up to your face, so close that your noses were brushing. He huffed out a breath into your mouth and just from that you could taste yourself. A moment went by before he looked into your eyes with gritted teeth. “On your knees, ass up, face down.” he spat. He released your throat and just like that you sprang into action.

You could feel your heart beating out of your chest and your lungs filling with air and you settled into your new position with Jake behind you. He grabbed your waist and started running his calloused hands up and down your back. “You gonna be a good girl and let me use you?” You hummed in response with a warm smile across your face.

You felt Jake’s right hand leave your back and you wiggled your ass to signal you were ready for him to fill you, but you were met with a different sensation. Jake’s hand coming down hard against your right cheek causing you to shout his name. He tsked. “You know better than that.” he said while rubbing his palm along your ass to soothe the sting before pulling away and landing an even harsher smack to the same spot.

Your hand found your mouth instantly trying to cover the pornographic moans that were threatening to spill from your mouth. Jake pulled your hand away instantly. “None of that princess.” he said bringing your hand so it was pressed into the small of your back. “We own this house. No need to try and be quiet. I want to hear you.” He ran his hands down the backs of your thighs before retreating to give himself some languid strokes, making him whimper, so quietly you assume he thinks you didn’t, but you did and you smiled to yourself.

You sighed as you felt the familiar feeling of Jake’s cock slipping up and down your folds, wetting himself. You both moaned as he started to push his hips forward and slip into your tight hole. The way Jake stretched you out was something you always craved. Even after the three years, you’d been together and the countless amount of times he’d filled you up it felt new and exciting every single time. Something you’d never get tired of.

Jake was still for a moment, letting you adjust to him. You grew tired of waiting and started to clench around him causing him to groan sharply. “Stop that.” he warned through a grunt. You giggled. “Oh, you think that's funny? You’d think you’d have learned your lesson by now, but apparently not.”

Jake started moving in and out of you slowly as he looked at where the two of you intertwined. You could feel every vein that ran along his cock dragging against your walls as you involuntarily tightened around him. His thrusts were deep and hard but still much too slow for what you were craving so you started pushing your hips back to encourage him to quicken his pace.

He grabbed your hips with a vice grip practically gluing your ass to his hips before leaning down over your shoulder. “You just can’t seem to listen, can you? God, you’re such a desperate little slut.” He pulled his chest from your back and without any warning started pounding into you at a brutal pace that you didn’t even know was possible. You screamed at the impact and overwhelming feeling of it all. “You’re going to learn little girl.” Jake spat out, his voice ragged from his heavy breathing and his rapid motion behind you.

Moans and grunts from the two of you were bouncing off the walls of your bedroom. Along with the lewd sounds of Jake’s dick sliding in and out of your wet cunt with every slap of his hips against your tender ass. The noises being made were so vile, they’d put pornstars to shame.

Jake didn’t let up, making your orgasm start to bubble in your stomach again in record time. You were sure Jake could tell you were close and you were scared that if you didn’t say anything he’d rip this one away from you just like he had before. So with a grovely voice, you warned “J- jake, baby, I- I’m so close!”

“You think I should let you cum after what you’ve done?” he grunted out.

“No! I d-don’t deserve anything. But G-god I love it when you fuck me like this!” spilled from your mouth like a filthy confession. “I know you’re close too. I can feel it.”

“God, baby. You’re so fucking tight.” Jake breathed out.

“I just want to cum with you. I-I want to cum for you. P-please!” you begged.

A growl ripped through Jake’s chest as you started to feel his hips sputter and slightly fall out of rhythm. “Yeah?” he asked breathlessly, obviously eager for you to keep saying filthy things to him to get him off.

“Yes! Please! That's all I want. Please D-daddy.”

Jake groaned and reached his hand around to start rubbing vicious circles on your clit making it practically impossible to hold yourself together. “Let go for me, baby. Please! Come so pretty around my cock. Soak me.”

At his words, you felt the dam within you burst simultaneously as Jake started to spill into you. Flashes of white ran across your vision and all you could hear was the faint noises of Jake behind you moaning your name. Coming harder than you think you’d ever done before, with anyone. Out of nowhere, you felt an extra burst of liquid between your legs as you shook and moaned into the room that now reeked of sex. Your orgasm felt like it lasted an eternity until Jake leaned down to bite into the junction where your shoulder met your neck like he had before, bringing you back to reality.

You could feel the sweat dripping off of Jake’s chest onto your back as he slowed his strokes down to the point where he stilled completely inside you. Both of you stayed silent as you gasped for air trying to settle your breathing. Jake noticed and bent down to pull you up to his chest and place his hand above your breastbone. “C’mon baby. Breath for me. In and out.” he whispered into your ear. After a few more breaths Jake noticed you starting to settle. “There you go, darling.” He placed a kiss on your shoulder then your neck all the way up to your temple before you gained the strength to open your eyes and turn your head to the side to look him in the eyes.

“Hi.” he beamed down at you, that beautiful Jake smile that you knew so well.

“Hi.” you breathed out smiling right back at him. “I’ve never done that before.” you admitted.

“Mmmm. Glad to be of service.” he giggled.

You just hummed and closed your eyes taking in his scent. A scent that you knew like the back of your hand. Whiskey and cinnamon, with his unforgettable Jake musk. A moment of contentment and silence filled the room.

“Was that too much?” he finally asked. You could sense the hesitation in his voice.

“Mmmm. No, not at all. I loved it.” you beamed up at him. “But-” you said, causing him to look down at you with an unmeasurable amount of concern strewn across his face. You brought your hand behind you and up to his cheek. “-my legs feel like jelly so you’re going to have to carry me everywhere for the time being.”

He let out a sigh of relief at your words and then turned his head to gently kiss your lips. Pulling away slightly, he giggled “I think I can do that.” He moved his hand from your chest to your hip and tapped you twice to let you know he was going to pull out. As he did you felt your body instantly grow tired and weak, almost collapsing until he reached over and grabbed your arms to keep you upright.

“You okay, baby?”

“Yeah. Yeah, just tired.” you breathed out.

“Alright don’t fall asleep on me now. Do you want to take a bath?” he asked as he tucked some hair behind your ear.

“Mhm. That sounds perfect.”

“Alright baby, come here.” He picked you up bridal style, dodging the wet spot left on the bed and you laid your head on his shoulder as he walked into the ensuite connected to your room. He placed you on the toilet to handle your post-sex duties while he started the bath water.

Once the bath was ready Jake helped you into the water. He held your hand as you climbed into the bath. Once you were settled he climbed in behind you and you rested your head on his shoulder. Jake leaned his head onto yours before whispering “I love you Y/N.”

“Mmm. I love you too, Jakey.” you responded before pressing a kiss to his pink lips.

You settled back into his chest and sat content in the silence that surrounded you. Your mind shot back to the events of the night before you reached back to run your fingers through his sweat-damp hair.

“Jake.”

“What baby?” he said, his eyes closed with his head leaning against the edge of the tub.

“We need to change the sheets.” He giggled.

“Yeah. But later. Let me be here with you.”

“Okay.”

You and Jake sat in the tub until the water went cold then got dried off and got tucked into bed wrapping each other in a new set of clean sheets and each other's limbs. Resting your head on his chest listening to his heartbeat and breath before he broke the silence. “Good date night?” he asked.

“Mmm. Good date night.” you agreed before drifting off into sleep wrapped up in Jake’s arms.

[softxsuki]

Announcement: Hiatus :(

I hate to do this. I really really hate to do this especially since I received a new urgent requests today and I’m also in the middle of a match up event. But I’ve tried to hold on this past week and I feel like I’m just getting worse every day.

Here’s what’s going on: My mother is mentally abusing me. She has been since I was a child. I’ve gotten used to it as I’ve grown, but the more independent I become, the more she disrespects me and tries to walk all over me. Today was my breaking point… i worked on Friday and Saturday, had a good time at six flags (an amusement park) with my friends on Sunday. On Saturday my mom complained to me in the morning about me not doing my part around the house and just throwing me down with her words. I was so upset that morning that I almost hit another car while backing out of my driveway. It was scary. I cried the whole way to work.

Now come today (I worked today and I’ll be working everyday till Friday with only one day off on Saturday and then I’m back to work for another 2 days) and I got home around 7pm. I ate, rested for a bit bc my feet hurtttttt from being on them all day and also from all the walking I did yesterday. Anyway since I’ve been so busy at work I’ve haven’t had a chance to wash my clothes so my laundry basket is completely full. Around 8pm I put in my first load of clothes. It washes, then I put it to dry. I throw my second load in and get back to trying to write.

My mom comes home and already she’s in a bad mood. She wants to wash her work clothes so she stops the washing machine (my clothes still have 30 min left) and starts taking my dripping wet clothes out of the washing machine. I start getting upset bc ???? Hello??? What are you doing??? And I tell her to stop and that I’ll put her clothes to wash and to dry once mine finish. But she WONT have that. She starts throwing my clothes on the floor so I try and push her away to get her to stop, but she’s being persistent. I was fuming at this point and so I just walked away bc I didn’t want to do something I’d regret. I start screaming at her and run up to my room. My dad comes to comfort me bc I’m just feeling horrible.

I’m religious y’know so my mom sends me a text later saying this. “The Bible says to honor your mother and father so that your days will be long. Ask God for forgiveness”… like girl the Bible also says to not provoke your children to anger by the way you treat them. Trying to make herself a victim and trying to make me feel bad. She always does this and I hate it. I am a respectful person and would never disrespect my parents. But after years of mental abuse from my mother I don’t allow her to treat me like that anymore so I stood up for myself. But I felt so worthless having her throw my clothes on the floor like that and only thinking of herself and her own clothes that needed to be washed when I already offered to put them to wash for her later so they’d be clean in the morning.

This is just one incident of many. She even threatened to call the police on me tonight after I told her that I’d do the same to her clothes…she’s threatened to leave and never come back home before. She’s called me horrible names in the past. Anyway as of now I’ve blocked her number and I’m not speaking to her because I don’t want to see her provoking texts or argue with her anymore.

She expects so much from me when I work 4-5 days a week and only get one day off in between. Most of the time I’m getting home at 10pm and I have no time for myself. I’m feeling lost and extremely overwhelmed and I feel like I just need time to heal and focus 100% on me for a change.

So with all that being said (sorry for ranting) I’ll be taking a hiatus for a while. Maybe in a week or two I’ll reassess how I’m feeling and go from there bc I have no energy to write rn. I don’t want to write bad content or forced content for you guys when my whole heart isn’t in it. I love to write and I love writing for YOU, but I can’t right how. This isn’t goodbye, just a temporary break so I can recollect myself. I’ll still be around to chat if any of you send any asks or dms. Those make me really happy. I love you guys so much, you have no idea how much you’ve helped me. I feel super guilty for doing this, but I can’t keep pretending like I’m okay anymore. I hope you guys understand.

Also my the anon who sent me an urgent request today: I won’t be able to write that for you for a while, but if you don’t mind waiting, then I can definitely write that for you when I’m back from my hiatus!

Again, I’m sorry. I hope I haven’t disappointed anyone.

I love you,

Han.x 💗

[jexetic]

I slept until after 2pm today. I was up until like 3am, but still, I slept for a really long time. I just hate getting out of bed and starting the day, and I don’t have work today, so there was nothing really forcing me to get up. I did go ahead and wash all of my dishes now that I’m up, though. And my apartment is looking pretty tidy, which is always good for my mental health. I even made my bed today.

Tomorrow is the Apple event. I don’t really care about most of the stuff they will probably talk about. What I do care about is a new Apple Watch SE. Specifically an SE, because I don’t see myself spending $400 for an Apple Watch. But mine (a series 3) is really not doing well these days, and I would really like an upgrade for it without breaking the bank.

Probably gonna do some more cleaning around my apartment today while Parks and Rec or something plays for background noise. Sometimes I end up listening to the DVD commentary because it’s the default audio track on some episodes and I’m too lazy to change it. Which is honestly fine, because I’ve already seen every episode of Parks and Rec, so why not add in some fresh content lol.

I might try to do laundry tonight but I feel like since it’s a Sunday I might not bother. I have a feeling a lot of other people in my building could be doing laundry and I don’t feel like running into anyone else or going down with my clothes and not having a machine available or anything else. I’ll probably just be lazy for the rest of the day. I have pretty much everything I need for the day (chocolate milk, poptarts, eggos). So I’m gonna try to just enjoy my day off before I go back to work tomorrow. Oh, and of course, watch the Big Brother episode tonight.

Also, I got a new Pop figure. I got April as a Pawnee Goddess to go with my Ann Perkins, who is also dressed as a Pawnee Goddess. I was not super thrilled about them being dressed up the same to be honest, but it’s whatever. I also bought Spongebob as a Caveman the other day.

[wonderland-productions-blog]

Knight in Dulled Armor: Ch. 10

Chapter 10: Rapid Remedy

Tw: Written Blood/ Mild Gore

Word Count: ~4,500 (~15 min read)

Work is slow until my shift ends. Thankfully there aren’t many customers I have to plaster a smile on for. While I’m grateful for the light workload, especially with my fatigue, I’m not sure if I’m looking forward to heading back to my room. It was mostly busy work, sweeping, table cleaning, a couple of orders, but also a bit of laundry to set up the empty rooms.

Admittedly, I’ve been reveling in the tasks that don’t require me to do much more than standing. The tavern feels awfully warm today, even with the heat I thought I’d gotten used to by now. I take my time folding the excess linen, the cool laundry room offers a slight remedy to my hot flashes.

Marietta and I hardly speak, and though I’m not completely sure I’ve done wrong, I feel bad for making her feel this way. I’m certainly not going to confront her about it, hoping it will fade as her stresses with Val’s health did. 

Val for the time being, is bedbound. I decide to order us both food and drinks to take back with me, making my way to the order window. This also serves as an excuse to push back returning to my room. Hidorah works longer shifts than I do a few times a week I’ve noticed. Though I’m sure he couldn’t complain about the extra coin.

 I greet him, surprising him behind the countertop. “Hello Hidorah, what kind of food does Val like?”

“Oh, you’re finally done with work!” He exclaims. I watch him jot down something and pass the note to another cook.

“It hasn’t been that long since we’ve last talked,” I shrug.

“Yes, but I’ve been waiting to talk to you,”

“Oh?”

“You know what this means, right?” He asks.

“Uh?” 

“Well, first of all, I owe you a thank you. So, your food is on me for tonight,” 

“What do you mean?” I ask.

“It was obviously you who healed my palm,” He chuckles.

“Oh, I suppose that’s a bit more plausible, isn’t it?”

“It’s a good thing to know, aren’t you excited?” 

“I kind of just feel… Dizzy? Everything that happened has left my brain feeling foggy at best,”

“That’s fair, you should try and take it easy tonight,” he says, giving me a small wave as he heads deeper into the kitchen.

I linger at the window for a moment, turning to stare at the bar behind me. One drink is obvious; Val had ordered the same thing almost every visit to the tavern. I pour him a glass of whiskey only to find that the bottle had emptied a small bit lower than I usually fill it. Not wanting to open a new bottle tonight, I top it off with about a shot glass worth of water. For myself, I pour a simple wine.

“So… What have you made us?” I ask.

He sets Val’s plate down. It’s of course practically the opposite of my tastes; meaty, spiced food with more grain than veggie. It makes sense seeing the way he is. 

Hidorah sits himself on the cushioned barstool with a long sigh after setting the plates down. He stares at me with a smirk as collect our drinks. An iced whiskey and wine, simple, easy. “What?” I ask, tired of him staring at me with that obnoxious grin plastered on his face. 

“So, only one bed, right?” He says, his smile still there to my disappointment.

“What? Oh-” The words fall out of my mouth and clatter to the ground, forcing everything else to quiet. Only one bed. The sentence played through my mind over and over. The glass of wine vibrates in my trembling hands. 

“Well, your food is done, and it’s getting to be evening. Don’t you think it's time to retire for the night?” He says, absolutely relishing this conversation. “Go on, head back. Just take the rest of your night to relax.” Hidorah says, his grin sinking into me.

“Yes, of course,” I say, picking up our food and drinks, trying my best to keep them stable in my shaky hands. 

I open my door to see Val sitting on my bed against the wall. He turns to look at me, “You’re back.” His voice holding a higher inflection than usual. 

“I brought us some dinner,” I say, setting it down on my nightstand. 

“I can see that, thank you.” he says, taking a breath for a sigh, “I don’t really like eating inside the tavern, I usually take my food back to my room. More privacy.” 

“Do you want me to leave?” I ask, swooping my food plate up to head back out to the bar counter. 

“No, that’s alright. I don’t think I’ll mind with you.” He says.

I look back to see him shaking his hair from his helm that had now sat in his hands. 

Unkempt bangs hang low, covering most of his face. Only a portion of his chin slipped through the long locks.

“Do you think you could put my hair up, Elaine?” 

I muster out an, “Mhm” after my throat forces a gulp. I steady my breath, daring not to steal a glance as I fetch a ribbon from my drawer. I crawl behind him on the bed, pulling the locks from either side of his face to his back. For the first time, we are around the same height, though I’ve adjusted to a tall kneel on my knees.

My fingers trace behind a pair of pointed ears, accidentally grazing one of the larger notches along its ridge. His skin is so warm, especially the back of his neck. I lift his hair up, finding a long, thin white scarf underneath.  

Tattered and riddled with holes, it prompts me to ask. “Why not get a new scarf? I’d be happy to give you one or even make you another if you’re looking for something specific,”

I feel such a strong urge to talk with him, though I can’t understand why. Even in my most nervous states, I’ve rarely blurted out anything or stuttered as often as I do around Val on a regular basis. Much like Kyzu in public, a muzzle would serve me well. 

I continue pulling his thick black hair together into the loosely tied ribbon while waiting for his response. Perhaps awkward silence is what fits best in the space between us.

“It’s not a scarf, it’s my baby blanket.” He says, tipping his head down. I look back at the jumbled piece of cloth resting on my bed. It instantly clicks and the ragged off-white wool now resembles the proportions of a baby blanket. 

An immediate “Aww,” slips out of my mouth. A small, guttural sound emerges from his throat for a moment before he catches it. I cringe, shaking my head as I tie up his hair. I sit beside him, moving up from my previous seat. “Make yourself comfortable, take your boots off if you’d like. Can’t imagine the metal would be pleasant right now.” I suggest. 

He takes this advice, pulling his boots off to show thin footwraps beneath. I stare for a moment, our feet beside one another were drastically different sizes. Mine weren’t exactly petite, just a bit smaller than average while his were huge, my toes only reaching to the arch of his feet, despite being heel to heel. 

He takes his food from the bedside table and passes me mine. A thick slab of meat over rice with a peppery red sauce drizzled over it sat on his hefty plate. Mine looks a bit more meager compared to it; two large grilled mushroom caps over a small amount of pasta with a red sauce as well as some kind of baked stalky vegetable on the side. I see him cut into his food, trying my best not to stare. He opens his mouth wide for a bite he’d managed to support with the dwarfed fork in his hand. His bottom canines are large, and jutting, protruding from his mouth still after closing it. 

His most prominent feature isn't anything I'd ever considered regarding his possible appearances. Not that I spent much time thinking about all the possibilities that lay beneath his helm, of course.

His skin holds a strong green hue. It clicks just then, that Val, is an orc. Everything fits into place at this very moment. His large figure, his armor, his voice. That voice.

Orcs weren't necessarily rare in Asteria, it's just that I never interacted with them much in my day-to-day life. They mostly worked in labor; guard, mercenary, construction, etc. Asteria never had much business with orcs, so I was never formally introduced to any. I suppose this could be one of the reasons I’m awkward or nervous around Val, it's just that I don’t have much experience in his customs. Some part of me must have known he was at least somewhat orc.

Val’s tongue was smooth, and a bit sleeker than average, barely noticeable at first sight, glistening with a bluish hue. He finally sinks his beastly canines into the thick piece of grilled meat. A chill runs up my spine. 

  I take a bite, trying not to draw so much attention to myself by staring without reason.

My eyes finally meet his; his gaze is intense, dark, and unflinching. This was contrary to mine, as an understatement. My breath hitched as I took in all of his features and I felt my face flush as he refused to take his eyes off of me, drinking me in just as I'd done him. Something was catastrophically different with the way he looked me up and down just now, though he'd done it a hundred times before. 

He shifts closer to me, cocking his head mere inches away from my face. A strong jaw dotted with silvery black stubble, an aquiline nose, and thick, dark brows distract me for a moment, I’ll admit. He brings a gloved hand to my face, holding my chin. He swipes his thumb across my cheek while using his other hand to tuck a stray lock behind my ear. He pulls away.

“You had a bit of food on your cheek, I figured I’d get it for you.” He says. 

“Oh, yes. I’m sorry. I didn’t realize.” I barely manage, my face turning even further red.

He wasn’t a talkative eater by any means. I’d been used to chatting with others while sitting at the bar, but by now it feels bizarre to eat in silence. I cut a mushroom in half, then fourths until I could manage its size in my mouth. I glance back at Val, watching him eat quickly and cleanly, for the most part. I watch him take a huge chunk of meat, managing it without issue until he looks at me. A dribble of the red sauce flows down his chin. 

For a moment the thought of him more carnal appeared in my mind, bloodied with something not his own. This should be frightening to me; he is large, strong, and dangerous in the wrong situation, but as I stare at him this is impossible to believe. He wipes his chin with his thumb. I watch his lips press against it for a moment, seeing a glint of his gums beneath his canines. “Do you want to try it?” He asks, most likely not sure why I’m staring.

“Oh, no. I don’t really like meat.” I tell him. 

His brows furrow, “What’s that then?” gesturing toward my plate.

“My grilled mushroom cap? I use it as a meat substitute of sorts. Do you want to try it?” I explain before offering him a bit speared on my fork. I gesture it toward him, expecting him to take it. He instead brings his head down slightly closer, taking the bite off my fork while I hold it. 

“I could get used to you feeding me. Think if I were a little sicker you would?” He chuckles, his bite stuffed in his cheek. 

I feel my face grow hot for a moment. “What do you think?” I ask, pulling the conversation away. 

“It’s not as dense as meat, chewier, and more fibery too. It tastes good though” He says, swallowing. 

“Glad you like the taste at least,” I say.

He, to no shock, finishes his food much faster than I do. He readjusts on the bed into a more comfortable position. I continue eating and he occupies himself by fidgeting with his fingers. I set my plate down for a moment, “You know, I believe you mentioned never having been to Braiewood recently. I actually just picked up a book on it if you’re interested.”

“Oh?” He exclaims.

I fetch the book from my bag I’d placed in the corner yesterday and hand it over to him. He skims through it as I continue eating. I finish up and pick up both our plates, leaving our half-empty glasses on the nightstand. As I approach the door a meager knock breaks the silence in the room. I hear a shuffling behind me, craning my neck to see Val putting his helm back on.

“Oh, Marietta!” I say, finding that she’s let herself in. 

“Um, just checking in on Val.” She explains. Before she steps beyond the doorway he just his arm out and gives her a thumbs up, the same as he’d done before. 

“I’m feeling well, not perfect, but doing better,” he says. 

“Do you… need further examination you think?” She presses further, taking a step closer.

“No, I don’t think that will be necessary, though I will be sure to tell you if anything changes of course,” Val tells her.

“Oh, alright then. I suppose I’ll take my leave. I’m heading home for the night, ask Hidorah to get me if you need anything, he’ll know what to do.” She says before leaving the room, the door slightly ajar. 

Val waits a moment before speaking, “I don’t want to bother her, she always seems so busy.” 

“Yeah, but it's not like she wouldn’t sacrifice her time for you. Especially now with you being injured,” I tell him.

“What do you mean?” He asks.

I’m taken aback by his response, “Well, she just really likes you is all. She talks about you any chance she gets. Any time you’re mentioned,” 

“Does she? Interesting. I’ve never seen myself as someone worth talking about. I hope it doesn’t upset Hidorah too much,” Val says. 

It occurs to me now that we have very different views on what exactly Hidorah and Marietta’s relationship with one another is. From working with them for a bit of time now, just seeing the way they interact with one another and of course, our private conversations I’ve heard more than enough gossip between the two of them. Quite a bit more than Val has, if I were to guess.

“You know Marietta and Hidorah aren’t together, right?” I blurt out. 

“Oh? Is that right? Hidorah always seemed so…” He stalls, then decides to stop completely. 

“And again, Marietta really likes you.” I reiterate, trying to gauge his reaction through the helm he has left on. 

Something burrows its way into my stomach as silence fills the room, it shifts around making me anxious. It kicks a thought up to my brain, making me wonder why I even bother prying into such matters. My nervousness around him has persisted through our entire time knowing each other and I’m still unable to pinpoint what is causing it. It may be just that I haven’t seen many as intimidating as him, still unable to shake these feelings of fear as someone smaller than him. But these emotions are rooted deeper, ones that I didn’t possess the tools to unearth just yet. I was waiting to be handed a shovel instead of clawing at stiff, rocky earth with my bare hands. 

“I think… I’ve known. I don’t know what to tell you, whether she wanted you to ask or if you alone were curious, but I don’t think I’m interested in Marietta. She is a wonderful, vibrant person, please don’t misunderstand me, but there are a lot of things that have led me to this answer.” He finally explains. 

My stomach knots tighten, hoping now that he would have let the silence consume us instead. I muster out a weak nod, rubbing my eyes. I draw in a shaky breath and let my hands fall to my thighs with an audible pat.

“Why?” rolls from my tongue, spilling into the room. By the time I try to catch the remainder of the word, it has made its place as a stain on our conversation. 

Val seems taken aback, straightening his posture and facing more toward me. He stays quiet for a moment, and I am unsure whether he is deciding what to say or needs me to elaborate. A few more seconds of silence pushes me to the latter. 

“I see so many people at the tavern attempting to flirt with Marietta every day. Why are you any different?” I blurt out, quickly getting up as I realize what I’ve said. 

“Elaine, I’m going to be honest with you…” Val says, taking off his helm to make eye contact with me. He brushes a lock of hair to the side as his brow furrows. His lips curve, his upward fangs now barely showing. “You are very blunt for someone who comes from a prestigious family.” He continues. 

I shoot him a confused look with my mouth agape for a moment.  

Val averts his eyes, clearing his throat before speaking once more, “It feels like you’re being a bit more hostile than you were initially when we met. I know you’re good friends with Marietta,” He says, grabbing my wrist with her bracelet dangling from it, “and you want to help her, but I assure you this isn’t how.” he finishes. 

I feel my face grow hot, staring at my wrist enveloped by his thinly gloved hand. My arm grows warmer and my palm sweats from the heat he emanates. His fingers twitch, his thumb brushing his ring finger as they still were wrapped around my wrist. I swallow, my eyes trailing up to eventually meet his. A rickety breath escapes me, trying to think about what I say next carefully.  

My mind empties any thoughts yet to be finished when he stands up, still holding my wrist. I crane my neck, his towering frame over me becoming far too overwhelming. I take a step back, feeling a tug. He slowly releases his grasp, letting my hand slide down his. He twitches, his hand wrapping around mine for just a moment. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Elaine. I just figured you would understand a bit more because…” He stops.

“Because why?” I plead, needing to know and not caring to hold back my tongue.

“I was under the impression that you at least liked me, Elaine!” He says, his voice dropping down to a quiet growl. 

“Liked you? Why would you assume that?” I scoff, turning away as my heart skips a beat.

“Well, spending so much time laying close to me to ensure I didn’t die would give any man the impression someone would consider them at least acquaintances.” He whispers, his voice breaking ever so slightly. 

“You heal me, at your own sake at that, and can’t accept that I’m not interested in having you set me up with your friend? Come on, Elaine.” Val continues in a much less harsh tone now.

My eyes widen. I stay quiet for a moment, acknowledging that I’ve been misreading the situation. Val is so much more of a literal thinker than I am. I let out a sigh.  I bite at the inside of my cheek, trying to find a way to pull myself out of the hole I’ve dug because of my impatient tongue, “You’re right. I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have favored my friend’s desires over your boundaries. You said you weren’t interested in her, and I should have accepted that rather than fighting her battles for her. But, I’d still tell her on your own if she’s persistent.” I tell him, feeling guilty that I had to bend the truth to match his view. I shouldn’t care why exactly he isn’t interested in Marietta if I’m not asking on her behalf. So why do I?

“Thank you. That’s all I wanted.” He says, giving me a small smile for the first time. Without realizing it, I give him one back, an embarrassingly large grin compared to what I usually give people. “It’s getting late, I’ll go grab you some blankets and a bedroll,” I say purely as an excuse to leave the room.

Grabbing not only a bedroll but also a new set of sheets for my bed, I find that I want to leave the musty storage room as quickly as I’d arrived. After a slow, long walk back to my room I lay the bedroll on the floor as well as a couple of pillows and a large, thick blanket. I take a step back to make sure it looks alright, putting my hands on my hips. I look back at Val, who had gotten up from the bed. 

I begin stripping the bed of its layers of sheets and covers, each one underneath soaked with a little less blood. By the time my mattress is fully nude, I end up with three large pieces of fabric draped over my shoulder. “Do you want me to get it? I wouldn’t want to stain your uniform with my blood.” Val offers. 

“Good idea, the laundry bin is in the corner at the end of the main hall.” I tell him, cautiously handing him the mass of bedding, “I’m going to change for bed.” I add on as he takes his time walking out. He nods, heading out of the room still in slight pain, or at least cautious of his wound, though not as bad as before. 

I allow myself a moment to take in the new atmosphere of the room. A dimly lit, cool space that seemed easy to fall asleep in. That is, it would be if I weren't dotted with blood splatters and unidentifiable stenches. I strip off my uniform, slipping on a thin, short-sleeved tunic. I crouch, hunched over my wardrobe bottom drawer looking for suitable thin, soft pants to wear to bed. 

A creak breaks the silence. My neck snaps back, seeing Val duck out of the room with a breathy amalgamation of a grunt and stutter. I throw on a pair, jumping to slip my foot through on one side. “I told you I was going to change!” I yell through the door. I put my ear to it, listening for a response. 

“I thought you meant change the sheets…” a meek voice expresses through the door. I hear a cackle emanate from further behind the door, almost completely muffled. I open the door, allowing Val to come in and take off his helm once more. Keeping it ajar, I peek around to see Hidorah still at the bar with a book off to his side. Something tells me he won’t be heading back home tonight.

By the time the door shuts, I turn to see my bed already made with new sheets. I look down at Val who’d already made himself comfortable in the bedroll, though he doesn’t exactly fit. He had rolled away from me, his injured side facing upwards rather than putting pressure on it. 

“We’ll be sure to check on your wound in the morning. Let me know if anything changes until then,” I tell him, trying to lighten the mood a bit. I notice him give a halfhearted nod despite facing away.

I part my linens and tuck my legs between my blankets, sitting with my back against the headboard. “Quite the day, can only imagine tomorrow will be better.” I breathe, only half sure Val is awake to hear me. 

“Tell me about it, I’m lucky I made it as far as I did without my horse,” He says.

“You’re lucky Marietta was far enough to find you,” I point out.

“That’s true, for once Marietta’s taste in artisanal pastries and bread paid off,” He chuckles.

“I was in the wrong place at the wrong time and looked too dangerous while doing it. What else is new?” He says. “I blame myself though, I was practically praying to Touluda for my work to be done early so I could get back to the tavern sooner. I suppose I got what I wished for in a way,” he laughs. 

“Touluda?” I simply ask, too hung up on it to respond to anything else. I glance over at him, seeing him roll over onto his back. 

“O-oh, she’s the patron goddess of connection. And morality, but that's not relevant,” he groggily explains.

“So, what did you want from the tavern?” I ask, wondering why he wanted to return faster than planned.

“Well, you-” he says his voice fading out.

“Well, I what?” I ask. I turn to see he’s put an arm over his face and pulled his blanket up much higher. His body looks completely still until I watch the slow rise and fall of his chest. 

“Did you fall asleep?” I mutter, furrowing my brows. This was the first time I’d ever seen someone fall asleep mid-sentence, though I’ll allow an exception because of the state of his health. 

But what was he going to say? I try and fill in some of the possible answers knowing it would provide nothing useful.

“Well, you forgot to give back my water bottle,” My mind offers as a possibility.

“Well, you should prepare a certain room early for me,” perhaps.

“Well, you need to leave the tavern,” a worrying option. What could he mean? What did I need to do? I sink deeper into bed, looking at the ceiling with a blank stare. It doesn’t take much for the stress I’ve endured throughout the day to put me to sleep. 

[sspicegirll]

feels so horrible feeling powerless and worthless. got my meds tweaked again to manage my depression and of course i was up from dusk till dawn yesterday. didn’t take my meds in the AM because i passed out, i woke up at 7PM and didn’t care to take anything. around 11PM i forced myself to take my meds because i was nonstop crying even though i didn’t want to take them because it feels pathetic relying on medicine. it’s like my brain is telling me i am a wimp i should be better a stronger than this and just tough it out and overcome it on my own.

even after taking them i still don’t feel better. and now i’ve taken my ADHD med at night so i will be up all night again tonight. i try to sleep, can’t sleep, i just lay with my eyes open. then i will miss the opportunity AGAIN to speak to my boss about my FMLA. i was supposed to touch base the past two days and haven’t because i am sleeping all day. such a moronic feeling. “oh sure supervisor i can do over the phone at 10:30AM.” *sleeps from ?am-7pm* fuck my LIFE.

i feel like i’m displaying as such a lazy idiotic loser who can’t do anything. i can’t even go back to work cuz i can’t wake up to talk to my boss. i can’t file for disability because i’m still on my fathers insurance and i don’t know how to work around it without involving him, which i absolutely cannot. so i have no $ now either. then i have the genius idea that i should start selling clothes online. but NOPE, don’t even have the energy to try to figure that out, doing the laundry prior, photography, pricing, talking to strangers????? UGH! and i’m not asking for help. getting help ends in disaster for me historically.

i remember all the time my mom would tell me that before you “came down from heaven,” you and god sat down and planned your whole life and what challenges you wanted and why. if there is any credibility in that, i am my own worst enemy. every day i think idk how much longer i can take this for! wtf did i set myself up for if this is true.

[drakinq]

082423

12:02AM -

I’m realizing I just don’t feel as good going to bed without journaling this way. I’m realizing I don’t feel comfortable at Jules at all except for crashing my head. So I’ve been out of the house from 5AM - Midnight everyday. The way it’s forcing me out of my comfort zone is exactly what I want and need right now. I don’t need to be in the house all day. I need to be building my life outside of the crib. The crib will come it always does, I’m just tryna build consistency with myself. But I realize when I head upstairs, I need to have my routine already completed, i.e. journaling, stretching and all.

Dance wasn’t horrible today but KO was def testing me. He was trying to say I wasn’t engaged but I felt like I was doing better than I have the past week. I felt present and determined to get the dance. I don’t think I had it 90% but well over 50% which isn’t normal for me at all. I’m always in a safe 30%. Either way he didn’t talk to me after so I’m hoping Sunday I show him some growth. Even though I did feel more mentally organized and finding a process this class than I have in awhile. I’m also learning I need to do cardio based workout on days I have dance to build stamina. Weights can go for the other days.

I work again tomorrow but at least not until 9. Not that it matters because I have to wake up at the same time regardless BUT, it will feel good not to rush if I do make it awake by 5AM. I’m trying to give myself and hour now to prepare for bed and tomorrow so I don’t wake up feeling as tired and scattered brain and can actually get the rest I need.

I’m still struggling with feeling like there’s not enough hours in the day to complete everything I want but the great thing is I get to try again tomorrow. I do plan on working on the dance tonight before I go to bed while I wait for laundry to dry.

[ordinarygirl681]

Tonight, for the first time in a long time, I am thinking about killing myself. I won’t do it, I don’t even have the means to… but it’s crossed my mind. I am drowning in self hatred and self doubts. I have been drowning in it. I am a sorry excuse for a human being and a piece of shit of a person. It doesn’t matter what I do, I’ll never be good enough for myself, I’ll never stop not trusting myself, I’ll never not have doubts in and about myself, I’ll never love myself, I’ll never be good enough. Not to mention how I don’t have the slightest idea about how to physically take care of myself. I can go weeks without eating any real food because I’m too lazy to cook and when I do, I fuck it up because I don’t know how and I hate cooking. And because I’m a piece of shit. I keep telling myself I’ll exercise but nope, nothing. I’m a couch potato junk eating piece of shit and I don’t deserve to occupy space on Earth. I have been spending so much money and not really saving any, and that’s also upsetting; I know better. But this fucking planet, it costs money to breathe. I don’t know how to reduce my spending. But I’m a piece of shit and can’t even be good about that. The only things that make me not want to die are Pepper and hiking. If I died, Pepper would have no one. My sister has her dog and her dog is not super friendly with other dogs. My dad hates dogs. My mom is not in this country. And I have no one else. And it hurts too much to think of her with someone else. She’s my little baby. I couldn’t leave her. But who am I even kidding, she probably wouldn’t even notice I was gone. Wouldn’t even miss me. But she’s the only thing keeping me going. Now, I have been depressed. I have been feeling extremely unmotivated and lazy and like doing nothing at all all day ever day, and that’s what I’ve been doing. I haven’t had the energy or motivation to clean, cook, do laundry, to function. I’ve done nothing but force myself to get out of bed and take Pepper to the dog park in the mornings. And force myself to actually go hiking - not always successful at that either. I’m functional enough to go to work and come back but that’s it. That seems to be all I have energy and motivation for.

06/16/2023

[suitcasescalling]

5 Miles, 13 Locks, 6 Hours

Have you ever heard of a “slow boat to China”? It was probably a narrowboat.

I’m not complaining, actually. I like the slower pace to just look around, observe the landscape, spot a heron or two, notice the shape of the bow waves. A narrowboat maxes out at about 4 mph. We’ve been going more like 1 or 2 mph, in part because ours is a maximum length (70’) boat and in part because we’re so brand new to this. So, lots of time to notice how the trees reflect in the still surface of the canal.

We’ve divided quite naturally into two teams. Jeff and Patricia are captain and first mate, respectively, and totally in charge of driving the boat. They’ve both got decades of sailing experience, which helps, though this behemoth handles differently than a sailboat. Ben and I are the lock jockeys, which means we’re the ones getting off the boat at every lock. Physically moving the gates and raising/lowering the panels that control the water.

The gates are heavy but well-designed. Sometimes we can move them with our arms, sometimes we have to back up to them and push with our butts/legs. The levers to raise and lower the water panels inside the gates are usually more work. Sometimes, just like the gates, they’re an easy winch (we have special winch handles for this work). Sometimes it takes a lot of back and arm power.

The massage career helps. The best force comes from your legs, not your arms. I change my stance almost instinctively now when I find myself needing more oomph from my legs to support my arms and back.

We had chilly and sunny weather yesterday, which was a gift. We all managed to even get a little sun on our faces without realizing it till we went out to dinner. Imagine, going to England in April and getting a tan!

While Ben and I work well as lock jockeys, 13 locks was way too many! One lock isn’t bad at all but the effort accumulates. I was tired and a little spacey by lock 13. We’ve only got 6 locks today and we’re already through them so I can relax a little.

I haven’t gotten to do as much walking on the towpath as I expected. Ben and I have walked the towpath when we suspected the locks weren’t very far apart but otherwise we’ve stayed on the boat.

It’s not quite the vacation I envisioned but since we’ve never actually done this before, it was unlikely to completely match my imagination.

My “single” bed is more like a bench with a mattress. I have to turn over completely in place because there is literally no room to move left or right. I’ve managed OK after the first night. The nights have been cold (30s) so that big fluffy comforter, which looked silly on such a narrow bed, has been just right.

“Narrow” is not wrong. We literally can’t pass each other in the passageways. Someone has to step into the nearest bathroom so the other can pass. It’s sort of the boat equivalent of driving those narrow country lanes.

We moored last night along a quiet stretch of the canal just past the pub where we had dinner. It was so lovely, so green, and so peaceful. That was much closer to what I imagined. It was a very peaceful night of sleep.

Today our goal is a marina in Stourbridge. It’s an “admin” afternoon. Fill up the boat water tanks. Laundry. Groceries. A bookstore if we can find one for Ben. A postbox for me for some postcards. A shower (really no point in showering every day on a boat to be honest) We have to decide where we’re going from here. The original plan was to motor into Birmingham but that requires *26* locks and … no. So we may be going back over the route we’ve already covered to try a new section of canal. That will be the conversation at dinner tonight.

I may be posting fewer pictures. After a while, one section of canal looks like another. One field of sheep / horses looks like another. But as I’m able, I’ll keep writing.

[keefwho]

November 06 - 2022

3:26 PM

God I get SO bored on weekends. I don’t know why. It’s like my head is foggy and nothing entertains me. Forcing myself to do something often doesn’t help. I think I need to bring myself back to whatever moment I’m in instead of thinking about everything I could be doing. Or if I force myself to do something then I should mentally commit to it even if it’s hard. There’s just too much possibility. The other problem is I don’t feel like I’ve earned the right to simply relax unless I do something first. 

8:48 PM

Today kinda blows. I got a little bit done but for the most part I’ve been horribly bored and lonely. And tonight I feel like shit for some reason, maybe because of the last 2 days of drinking. I haven’t even relaxed today, it was just stressed boredom. But it is what it is I guess. I can’t do anything about it but try to rest right now and wait for tomorrow which will hopefully be better. 

9:04 PM

Im trying not to despair too much. Tomorrow is Monday which means I have to get busy. I also changed my schedule so I only workout and do mental stuff on weekdays. Workouts are Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. A little bit earlier I felt a bit anxious about things in general but I’ve mostly calmed down. I’ve mostly convinced myself not to worry about my tummy and instead take comfort in it because this kind of thing happens so often in the evening. I’m fine, I just feel a little bad and it will go away. I’m fed up with feeling like shit right now. 

11:34 PM

I gotta be just a little bit brave again and eat the babybel cheese I got. It was one of the few things that didn’t fit in the cooler on the way home so it was out for about 2 hours. Its not like it was a hot summer day though so I have to assume it’s fine. If I remember correctly, none of the cheese I got was in the cooler and I’ve been eating it fine. I ate half a babybel tonight to see if just the fact that it’s cheese will hurt my tummy or not. I don’t think one of these is enough cheese to do that though. 

I also have to go do my laundry at my parents finally. My sister was “sick” a few days ago but it sounds like it wasn’t something contagious. I still like to play it safe though so I might give it a few more days, I have enough clothes to last that long. 

[hazzasgayvodka]

Panty Thief - Harry Styles

So this is kind of a trial run for this fic, I’m inclined to make this a series but I’m not sure how the response to it will be. I have lots of ideas for more parts to this but only if it’s what the people want haha. Here is my belated Valentine’s Day gift to all you lovelies I hope you enjoy this heavy daddy kink/dom harry fic I’ve been working on for ages!

p.s. everyone say thank you Nathan for giving me lots of smut inspiration this is literally based on him sorta 

pairing: daddy!harry x oc

warning: sexual content, smut, daddy kink/dom vibes so if you’re not here for that this is not for you

word count: 5k

In which Harry is a new student at Harley’s university and he seems to just keep popping up everywhere. The tension between them is palpable and she can’t get away from him, especially when he happens to knock on her door with a pair of her favorite red lace panties she left in the laundromat dangling from his finger. 

I roll my eyes as the lady in front of me in line takes out yet another handful of coupons from her purse at the checkout counter. The cashier looks almost as annoyed as I am, but still sporting a smile despite the absolute exasperation rampant in her eyes. She takes the handful of coupons and starts scanning them begrudgingly as the woman digs around in her purse for anymore and I hardly even notice my foot tapping as my eyes instinctively roll once again. I just came to get toilet roll, ice cream, and a bottle of prosecco and the universe decides today is the day coupon Karen ends up at the checkout line five minutes before I do.

“I like your hair.” A voice speaks up behind me.

I know they must be talking to me, I don’t believe any other boring college blonde in this line warrants a compliment like that but the bright purple curls I sport tend to elicit quite the reaction from bystanders, especially the uninteresting conservatives of Publix.

“How do you uh, get it that color?”

I finally turn my head over my shoulder to face the voice, a tall guy with tousled brown hair and quite the shit eating grin on his face. He’s obviously very pleased with himself finally getting me to turn around but I can’t be bothered to entertain this excited puppy of a man with more than a word.

“Dye.”

I’ve barely even gotten the word out of my mouth before I turn back to face the cashier with an uninterested eyeroll. He scoffs behind me, clearly not giving up that easily.

“Wow,” He chuckles, “At least you’re straightforward.”

I turn back around without thinking to face him once again, “Hair dye, idiot.”

“Oh, well I could have guessed that much.”

I turn away from him again just as coupon lady finally pushes her rattling cart towards the exit doors and the cashier gestures for me to come up to the checkout. I drop my basket on the conveyor belt with a thud and she rings it up quickly, sensing my impatience and clearly wanting to get me the hell out of here as quickly as she can. I pay and grab my bags to head for the door and just before I’m home free the voice is suddenly behind me yet again.

“So, are you really not going to tell me?” He asks, catching up to me outside, “It’s going to keep me up tonight, I’m waiting with bated breath over here.”

“Tell you what exactly?” I huff, finally turning to face him.

“How you get your hair that color, of course.”

I roll my eyes, surely, he’s not keeping this bit up for the sake of hitting on me in the fucking supermarket, “Do you want something from me?”

He chuckles a bit, and I’m glad to see my utter frustration is amusing to him, “I mean,” He starts, rubbing the back of his neck, “Maybe your name would be cool.”

“No thanks.”

“Well, I’m Harry-“

I turn and walk away before he’s barely got the sentence out of his mouth. What was he even in line to buy? He wasn’t carrying any bags.

Mental note: always wear headphones to the grocery store.

 ***

“You’re late.”

I collapse in the seat next to my friend Danielle with a huff. She gives me a certain look that says something like you’ve been late the past three times too, but honestly at this point she should know to expect it.

“I’m always late,” I groan, attempting to lean back in the incredibly uncomfortable library chair, “So, why are we at the library?”

“We have a math test tomorrow, or did you forget about that?” She asks, scolding me over the top of her math book.

“Of course I remembered,” I say sarcastically, “Math is my absolute favorite subject how could I ever forget we had a test?”

She rolls her eyes, turning her book to the right page to start taking notes and I try my best to follow along, “So do you have a legitimate reason for the lateness or just regular Harley excuses?”

“Actually, I do,” I say matter-of-factly, sitting back up straight in my chair, “There was a freak at the grocery store, dude would not leave me alone.”

“What was he doing?” She asks, suddenly interested.

“Just talking? I guess? He like wanted to have a whole conversation waiting to check out.”

“So, a nice guy just struck up some conversation with you at the store and that’s a bad thing?”

“Yes,” I huff, closing the book once again, “I was just there to get groceries I didn’t need the extra human interaction.”

She opens her mouth to reply but she’s cut off as a group of guys walk in the front door of the library talking at full volume. I can feel almost every person in the room turn in the direction of the loud noise at the front and suddenly my eyes land on him. There’s no fucking way.

“Dani,” I whisper, sliding down in my seat so I can go unseen, “Dani that’s the guy, the guy from earlier.”

“What?” She whispers harshly, trying not to stare as the boys get scolded by the librarian at the front, “You mean grocery store guy?”

“Yes!” I huff, electing to sit in my chair backwards so my back is to him.

“No way Harley, it just looks like him-”

“No Dani, it’s him,” I whisper, “Tall one with the curly hair in the black hoodie.”

“That’s him?” She asks, “You had a problem with that talking to you?”

“Shh!” I huff, “God he’s going to hear you, are they still at the front?”

“They um, yeah,” She stutters, her eyes diverting to her book again, “They’re still up there, at a table now.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask, sensing the discomfort in her voice and turning around myself.

My eyes immediately lock onto his and I look away quickly, shielding my face from him with my hand and turning back towards Danielle.

“He’s staring right at you.” She says, trying not to be too obvious.

“Yep.”

“Are you gonna go over there?”

“Why would I do that exactly?” I ask, my eyebrow raised in disbelief.

“Because a hot boy is staring you down across the fucking library!” She whispers harshly, reaching over to smack me in the arm.

“More like a fucking psychopa-”

“Hey there,” I hear his voice cut in and my whole body cringes in on itself without my volition, “Fancy meeting you here.”

I turn around in my chair, forcing myself to face him while my whole face heats and I’m sure I’m the color of a rather ripe tomato. Something about the way he says hey there in that fucking accent makes my entire body tense up.

“Hey there,” I mimic, “Long time no see.”

I feel Danielle’s eyes on me as the words come out of my mouth, her gaze flickering between the two of us and watching the horrifically awkward exchange play out in front of her.

He laughs, electing to lean on the table, “What are you doing after this?”

“She’s doing absolutely nothing.” Danielle answers for me and I kick her under the table, making her wince.

“Glad to hear it,” He grins, his eyes zeroing in on me once again.

“I’m very busy actually,” I cut in, closing my textbook and throwing it in my bag, “We both are, but um, I’ll see you around.”

Danielle is looking at me with eyes the size of dinner plates as she frantically packs up her stuff, shoving it in her bag to follow suit. I stand up from my chair, slinging my bag over my shoulder and he rounds the table to stand right in front of me, the only thing between me and the front door.

“Can I at least get your name?” He asks, his voice incredibly deep clearly for only me to hear.

“Harley,” I quip, side stepping around him, “See you later uh, Harold is it?”

He gives me a very particular look as I walk away from him, taking steps backward and relishing in the smirk on his face. He knows what I’m doing. I feel Dani’s hand grab my arm and I finally turn around to face the door, walking through it, but even as I’m outside and carrying my feet down the steps I feel his eyes on me, drilling into the back of my head.

“The hell was that?” Danielle asks, “He was so cute and you just, you just blow it like that?”

“Harmless flirting.”

“You call that flirting?”

“Oh Dani,” I sigh, taking out a cigarette and lighting it between my lips, “I call that winning.”

 ***

I’m woken up with a start when I hear the loud roar of music start from Dani’s room. She always blasts music in the morning while getting ready for class. I look over my shoulder to check the time, at least she waited until 10 to start with the noise. My head is pounding ever so slightly, and I realize why when my eyes land on the empty bottle of pink Moscato on my bedside table.

I drag myself out of bed and into the tiny common space between our two rooms, “Good morning sleeping beauty,” Danielle teases, “I noticed the bottle of wine went missing from the fridge.”

“That’s bizarre,” I joke, “Must be a wine thief in the dorms. I’ll get on that mystery right away.”

She shakes her head at me, rolling her eyes as I grab my basket of laundry from my room. I slide on a pair of slippers electing to go put it in the wash, so I hopefully have a single clean pair of jeans for class tonight. I call to Dani letting her know I’ll be right back and as soon as I open the door to the hall I’m staring at him.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.” I groan.

He stops dead in his tracks, taking a glance over his shoulder to see me standing in my doorway. He’s dressed in only a towel, holding it closed while it hangs low on his hips. His hair is wet, clearly making his way back to his room from the showers and his chest and arms are rippling with muscles under his damp skin.

God those arms could crush me like a grape.

“Morning neighbor,” He grins, clearly getting a kick out of this, “Someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?”

“You’re in this building?”

“You bet, room 7C down the hall.”

“Well, neighbor, for future reference, most people in this building take their clothes to the shower with them.”

“You Americans,” He chuckles, starting to walk away from my doorway, “So prude, have a nice day Harley.”

He disappears down the hall and then behind his door and my mind gets to work on picturing what he looks like without the towel. You can nearly feel the tension between us in the air, it was palpable. I could even feel his eyes on me, looking me up and down and lingering on my lips. I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to clear my head as I take a deep breath and start on my way to the laundry room downstairs.

I put a load in the wash, briefly tuning into the dramatic soap playing on the tiny TV hung on the wall. I decide to head back to my now empty room since Danielle left for class and end up wasting most of my day away on a bad Netflix original movie, only pausing half way through to go move my clothes to the dryer.

I order a pizza for dinner before my night class and go back downstairs to grab my laundry out of the dryer. Just as I’m opening the dryer and emptying my clothes back into my basket I get a text that the pizza guy is downstairs waiting for me.

“Shit, shit, shit.” I huff under my breath, quickly shoving all my clothes in my basket and slamming the dryer shut behind me.

I rush back to my dorm, chucking the basket of clean clothes inside before heading to the stairwell and nearly sprinting down them to get to the ground floor. I meet the rather impatient pizza guy downstairs before bringing the food back up to my room. I’ve just barely finished the first slice half way through a Criminal Minds episode when there’s a knock at the door. I groan, dragging myself from the couch and tossing the blanket off.

I open the door, rolling my eyes, “Dani, you have got to start remembering your key when you-” I’m cut off as I come face to face with him rather than Dani, “Oh, um, hi?”

“Hi,” He repeats, now dressed in a pair of grey joggers and a plain black t-shirt, “I believe you dropped something in the laundry room earlier.”

He reveals his arm from behind his back, holding out his hand with my bright red lacy thong dangling from his pointer finger. I can feel my entire face heat to match the shade of my panties, but I won’t let him get the satisfaction. I go to snatch them from his hand, but he stops me, gripping them in his fist instead and using them as leverage to pull me a bit closer to him.

“Probably want to be a bit more careful where you leave your panties lying around, darling,” He smirks, “Unless you want to leave them on my bedroom floor of course.”

It’s the final straw, those few words spoken in his deliciously deep voice absolutely dripping with that amazing accented tone, on top of the way he’s dressed, every muscle visible beneath the fabric of his t-shirt. I don’t know what I’m doing until I’m pulling him to me by my own grip on the lacy underwear between us, my mouth meeting his and his teeth instantly biting my bottom lip between them.

“Yours or mine?” He breathes out, pulling away from me just long enough to get the words out.

“Where’s your roommate?” I ask breathlessly.

“Vacation,” He says, “Till Wednesday.”

“Yours,” I laugh, pressing my lips back to his, “Definitely yours.”

He walks me backwards down the hall to his dorm room, shoving me up against the wall as he unlocks the door, his lips working down my neck. As soon as the door is open he walks me through it, bending down to grab the backs of my thighs and hoisting me into the air. He kicks the door closed with his foot and I laugh against his mouth as he carries me past his bedroom doorway, slamming that behind us as well.

He lays me out on the bed, nearly tossing me right on top of the mattress, my lacy red underwear still gripped in his hand.

“Any chance you got something this cute under there?” He chuckles, holding them up in both hands to really show them off.

“Why don’t you come find out?” I tease.

He rolls his eyes, finally kneeling onto the edge of the bed and crawling over to me. He starts to lean over me, but I shove his shoulder, forcing him to lay against the mattress before swinging my leg over him. I can feel him underneath me immediately and it makes my legs clench together on either side of him.

“Hi,” I breathe, planting my hands on his chest and meeting his eyes.

“Hi,” He repeats back to me, that bright smile of his making my stomach flip, “You gonna come down here or...?”

“Oh, shut up,” I laugh finally leaning down and connecting our lips once again.

His lips are ridiculously soft against mine while the feeling of his muscles under his t-shirt are quite the opposite. He reaches up to cup my face with both hands, trying to somehow pull me closer as if we aren’t close enough as it is. I can’t figure out exactly where I want to put my hands; his shoulders, his biceps, god, in that amazing curly hair.

My hips start to move against him without my volition and he groans into my mouth, a deliciously deep reverberation that makes me grind my hips into him even more. He grunts against my lips, finally pulling away and resting his forehead against mine instead, breathing heavily.

“You alright there tiger?” I tease him, threading my fingers through his hair, “Need a breather already?”

“Shut your mouth,” He chuckles, grabbing me around the waist and trying to flip us over so he’s on top.

He greatly underestimates the size of his twin dorm bed when he does so, both of us rolling off the edge and tumbling to the shag carpeted floor beneath us. I expect the mood to be ruined, for him to get up and usher me right out the door because how awkward is this, right? I’m beyond surprised when he starts laughing, both of us splayed flat on our backs and heaves out a sigh as he rolls over to face me again.

“That was pretty smooth of me, eh?” He jokes, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

I shake my head, chuckling too, “No I’m okay, just gonna have a massive bruise on my ass most likely.”

He laughs again, finally pulling himself to his feet and offering me a hand to help me up. I’m not sure what I expect past that, maybe a hug to send me on my way now that the atmosphere has completely changed but that tension is still between us, the same tension that’s been building since the moment he said a single word in the supermarket.

The second I’m back on my feet he shoves me onto the bed and I can’t even begin to hide the shock in my features. He’s back on top of me in seconds, his lips pressed to mine and I’m sure the surprised whimper that leaves my mouth fuels his ego to the gods.

“You alright there tiger?” He mocks, and I resist the urge to reach up and slap him.

“Careful.” I quip, pulling away from him to meet his eyes.

“Careful?” He asks, quirking up his eyebrow at me, “I’m sorry are you telling me what to do sweetheart?”

I gulp, the smooth but stern voice he’s using making my thighs quiver. He seems to notice, his eyes darting down between us and a small chuckle escaping his lips. He looks back up at me, his eyes dark and brooding, before they flicker to my hands at my sides. He grabs my left wrist roughly, holding it above my head against the mattress before doing the same to my right arm as well. I’m nearly squirming underneath him, my entire body steaming to the touch as his eyes bore into mine.

“Something wrong, love?” He asks, the condescending tone to his voice making my whole body shake.

“Course not,” I pant, my breath coming out heavier than I anticipated, “Just fuckin peachy over here.”

He chuckles a bit, his grip on my wrists growing tighter, “You’re not very patient, you know that?”

I’m not sure what it is that’s making me writhe the way I am; perhaps it’s the countless months I’ve gone without sex since my last messy breakup, or maybe it’s the way in which this all panned out with a stranger over some fucking underwear, or fuck, maybe it’s just him and the way that cocky smirk on his face makes my insides twist.

“Patience is a virtue,” I say carefully, making sure to keep my tone even, “I’m more about vices.”

His left hand releases my wrist and I prepare myself for his hand reaching where I need him most, sucking in a breath between my teeth and letting my eyes flutter closed but it never comes. My eyes peel back open to see his hand hovering over my neck instead. He meets my eyes before his fingers finally grace the skin of my throat, applying just the slightest bit of pressure almost as if to test the waters.

I’m nearly dizzy as he does so, the temperature in this room suddenly a million degrees. He removes his hand again, the pressure around my throat leaving me and I whimper in distaste, making him chuckle again.

“Poor thing,” He chastises, my legs clenching together on either side of him, “I can’t do it all though, if only there was a way I could hold down both your wrists and choke that pretty neck.”

I watch his hand dig into the pocket of his joggers and once again pull out the thin red lacy fabric of my panties, holding them between us.

“Mind if I use these?” He asks, clearly knowing the answer but wanting to get a reaction out of me anyways.

“Yes, god,” I gulp, “Please.”

He grabs my hands, moving them completely above my head before wrapping the panties around them a few times, tying them together. He tugs on them a bit to make sure they’re pretty secure before looking back down at me, his eyes completely blown out in lust, his pupil swallowing his surrounding iris.

His lips are back on mine in seconds, his now free hands roaming my body before one hand rests on my neck, gripping the sides and applying a bit more pressure than the last time. I whimper into this mouth and curse myself for doing so as soon as my eyes flutter open to see that cocky smirk on his face once again.

“Eager, sweetheart?” He teases, and my hand reaches up to smack him before I remember I’m bound in a pair of my own underwear, “Ah, ah, be a good girl and stay still.”

Hearing the words good girl come out of his mouth makes my entire body squirm and he grins again, that lopsided condescending grin and I know he’s getting off on this, making me writhe underneath him. He leans down to kiss my stomach, hiking my shirt up as he goes before working his way down and tugging my pants down my legs. I hold my breath in anticipation but when I look down the bed to meet his eyes he simply kisses the inside of my thighs, ghosting his mouth over the thin fabric of my panties.

“Fucking please,” I beg, my breath coming out in heaves, “Is this some kind of joke to you?”

“Please what, princess?” He asks, my legs threatening to squeeze his head between them, “Tell me what you want, hm?”

“You cocky bastard,” I huff, my mind getting fuzzier by the second the closer he gets to my center, “You know what I want.”

He stops abruptly, sitting back up from his small assault on my inner thighs, “What did you say, love? Care to repeat that? Couldn’t quite here you down here.”

There’s an edge to his voice, like glass, it cuts right through me and makes my thighs quiver, “N-no,” I stutter, “Didn’t say anything.”

“That’s what I thought,” He grins, leaning back down between my legs, “Now be a good girl and tell me what you want me to do to you.”

I suck in a breath sharply, but I won’t let him know how his words affect me, “Oh daddy,” I mock, rolling my eyes, “Need you so bad.”

He grabs me by the ankles, flipping me onto my stomach and sends an echoing smack to my ass, the stinging sensation that radiates afterwards making my toes curl. He flips me back onto my back, his dangerously dark eyes meeting mine as he spreads my legs apart once again, holding my thighs down against the mattress.

“Want to try that again, princess?”

“Fuck,” I gasp, the edge to his voice making the whispered swear fall from my mouth involuntarily, “Um, yes.”

“Yes what?” He growls, leaning down to hold my jaw in his hand, his eyes drilling into mine waiting for a response.

“Yes daddy.”

“Now you’re getting it, good girl,” He grins, his hand that was gripping my jaw moving to tuck a piece of hair behind my ear, “Now open up,” I oblige, slowly opening my mouth and he pushes his middle and ring finger past my lips. It catches me a bit off guard, but he only nods his head, “Get them nice and wet for me love, don’t want to hurt you.”

He pulls them from my mouth, a small string of saliva connecting them to my lips. He chuckles a bit, clearly getting a kick out of how worked up I am for him before finally pushing my panties to the side and pressing his fingers into me. I instantly turn my head to the side, muffling the moan that escapes my mouth into my pillow. As soon as he realizes what I’m doing he grabs me by the hair, holding my head straight.

“None of that,” He says sternly, “Wanna hear your pretty sounds, babygirl.”

I’m dangerously close to the edge just from the words pouring from his mouth in that accented tone that makes my entire body shiver. That condescending smirk finds its way back to his lips and I know that he can tell I’m close, just teetering on the edge already.

“Needy little thing, are we?” He teases, “Already gonna cum and daddy’s barely touched you yet.”

His words are almost just enough to push me over the edge, but I hold off as much as I can, straining away from his touch as much as I can with my hands bound above my head and his weight on top of me. I feel the particular twist in my stomach, that burning sensation in the very pit of my abdomen just as my eyes squeeze shut and my vision goes white. His fingers work me through it, his mouth finally hovering over where I need him most, sucking my sensitive bud into his mouth and making me shake.

I feel his fingers withdraw from me and suddenly he’s pushing them past my lips once again, but this time I taste myself on them, swirling my tongue around each one to suck them clean. I meet his eyes as he pulls them from my mouth and my hips involuntarily buck up to meet the bulge prominent in his pants.

“Still needy, are we?” He chuckles.

“Please shut up and take your pants off already.” I beg, my hips bucking up to meet him again.

“You see I would but,” He starts, sitting back on his heels, “It seems I don’t have a condom, would you happen to have one?”

“Would I, no, you have got to be fucking kidding me,” I stutter breathlessly, my blood starting to boil in disbelief, “What kind of guy doesn’t keep a pack of rubbers around you idiot?”

“Careful,” He warns, his voice dropping into that deep calculated tone that makes me shiver, “And perhaps a guy that just moved in this week and hasn’t necessarily had buying rubbers on the mind,” He says, “That is until he met a spunky purple haired girl in the supermarket.”

His words make my stomach do a few somersaults, but I don’t let it extinguish the pissed off fire burning in my stomach knowing that I won’t be getting the relief I desperately need right now.

“You’re serious?” I ask, “You don’t have any?”

“Serious, darling,” He chuckles, “But instead of moping about it, you’re going to take what I give you and say thank you daddy when I’m done, understand?”

I nod my head vigorously, despite wanting to do the exact opposite. What kind of hold does that goddamn accent have on me?

“Good,” He smiles, clearly pleased with my response, “And maybe if you’re a good girl next time daddy will remember to hit the store.”

“Next time?” I ask, not filtering the shock from my voice.

He laughs a bit, reaching up to finally untie my hands, “Yes, next time, did you want this to just be a one-time thing, princess?”

I can’t form the words I want to say as I sit up a bit, rubbing my wrists only slightly from the rough fabric of the lace wrapped around them, “I um, I don’t-”

“That’s what I thought,” He smirks, standing from the bed and holding out a hand to me, “Now come on, didn’t you get pizza?”

I smile, taking his hand and starting to stand to my feet, my legs a bit wobbly and I’m thankful for the stability of his arm to lean on.

“Do you have anything to uh,” I start, cringing when I feel the wetness in between my thighs, “Clean up with?”

“Nope,” He says cheerfully, “You keep that pretty mess I made between those thighs, babygirl.”

My knees nearly buckle, and I’m cursing him for his lack of condoms and the ache between my legs as I pull my pants back on, following him to the door to the hall. He stops abruptly just inside the doorway, turning back to meet my eyes.

“What’s my name?” He asks cheekily.

“Harry,” I say confidently, “Why? Are you worried I forgot already?”

He grabs my ass in his hand tightly, squeezing the skin, his voice calculated, “I said, what’s my name?”

I gulp, leaning into his grip on me a bit more as my knees wobble, “Daddy.”

He releases his grip on my ass, giving it a quick smack, “’Atta girl, let’s get some pizza in you so you’re ready for round two,” He grins, throwing his arm around my shoulder and tucking me into his side as we walk down the hall to my room instead, “Maybe after we can hit the store, I seemed to have forgotten to pick something up last time I went.”

[dabisqueen]

Okay, so it hasn’t been a bad week, persay, but I had spring break last week/went on vacation so coming back this week really has just made the whole week feel like it was hard and dragged on. I usually use this thought every now and then but it has plagued my existence this week so, now that it’s almost the weekend for me, I thought I’d share. (This is about to be extremely long and I am so sorry but it has been building for forever and the little voice inside me is screeching to write an actual thing for it but I don’t have the time right now so enjoy my current brainrot if you so choose)

So I’m a generally busy person. I’m a school teacher (5 days a week), I have a second job where I’m a retail manager (4 days a week), and I still attend graduate program classes at the university in the next city over (at least 2 days a week). Then I come home and make sure there’s dinner on the table for myself and my partner, clean, do laundry, etc. So I just generally feel like I’m constantly in charge and need to be on top of things and productive all the time.

So just imagining coming home to Dabi after a particularly hard day/week. And just you come home and he can just tell that his baby needs love and to be taken care of. To destress. And so he’s just so sweet to you, he lets you vent about it if you want to, gives you light and loving touches, maybe alcohol (if you drink it) to numb the edges a little bit, to let go a little bit.

And then he decides what you really need is just to not think. He decides to turn you into a moaning mess for him. Coos at you to just forget it all for a bit. Hand it over to him. Let him make you feel good.

He decides he doesn’t want you to think of anything but him. And then he makes you think of nothing but him. Convinces you to hand over your control. To let him take care of you. Let him make the decisions for you, even just for a little bit. And he takes control, and true to his word, ravishes you until there’s nothing but him. The all-consuming fire of Dabi erasing everything else away. Erasing, consuming, until you’re nothing but a pile of whimpers, cries of his name, conflicting pleas of ‘too much’s and ‘keep going’s. Your usual witty banter with him replaced by your incoherence as you go dumb around him. But you’re letting him have you however he wants because he knows what his baby needs.

And after you forget everything but him. When you come back and want to fall back to taking care of things. He’ll force you to relax, to take a hot bath (or a shower) while he finds the two of you food. Let him feed you and then let him pull you into cuddle and everything but him and you can wait until tomorrow. Let him take care of you for a bit.

(Geez it’s like 8am on a Friday and I’m not off til 10pm but my one day off is tomorrow and all I can think of is going home to him tonight)

Hey Kaze, so I finally got around to answering your ask. I have to say that this is soooo lovely! Thanks for writing so much.

To be honest, we all imagine Dabi as a jerk, a douchebag (he might be though *laughs*), but I also imagine him as very vulnerable.

I mean, look at young Touya. He was such an adorable boy, trying his hardest to please his dad. And was always rejected.

So with you, he has found his safe haven. A place he can be free and relax and be really himself.

I genuinly think that this could happen, him taking care of you, pampering you, feeding and washing you. Because the love he receives from you he wants to give back to you multifold.

Thanks for sharing this. This is so fluffy, if my WIP list wasnt already to long and I would have more time, I would write a fic out of this.

[yunhostinyuyu]

marks

pairing: bad boy!san x fem reader

genre: college au, suggestive, almost smut

wc: 3.1k

synopsis: Y/N swore herself to never get involved with people like Choi San: the typical fuckboy. She hated him (or she at least made herself believe she did) but thats the exact reason that drew him towards her...

warnings: teasing, making out, mentions of sex, alcohol and drugs

—

„look at who we have here? Y/N doing her dirty laundry, never thought I’d witness that.“

you were hunched on your floor with baskets of freshly washed clothes all around the floor. Whipping your head to the door of your dorm‘s bathroom, and you immediately regret it. The cheeky comment came from no other than Choi San - Resident fuck boy and unfortunately, your roommates best friend. He is the type of guy your parents would warn you from. The type to play with a girl until he’s satisfied and dips right after.

The type of you you would never want to get involved with in any sort of way.

But, since he hangs around your dorm frequently and you share a few classes and lectures, that was not easy. Crashing on the couch you bought with your roommate bought together when you moved in, more often than you’d like. Throwing certain looks at you when you entered the lecture halls or passed by him when he was chatting and smoking with his friends off campus. Never letting you breathe for a single moment, he enjoyed teasing you. Needless to say you hated his guts for many things, and he just added more reasons to your imaginary list with every passing day you saw him around campus.

Meanwhile, you’re lifestyle was the complete opposite of his, being the well mannered and friendly classmate, the typical nice girl everyone thought you were - and what your parents wanted you to be. Of course, you were not always like that, especially around your friends. With them you could act the way you truly are, and that was anything but the front you put on most of the time. But San made you drop any sort of friendliness to curse at him every chance you got. And right now was no different:

“Fuck off Choi. Wooyoung isn’t here, so leave.” you spat while not paying anymore attention to him, instead going back to the task at hand.

Taking a few steps towards you, inspecting the room as if he had seen it for the first time, and paying close attention of you putting clothes out of the washing machine. His eyes paying close attention to your hands that move in fluid motions.

“I know, but he’ll be here any second.” Trailing off, and you decided to not even answer him - he isn’t worth your time or nerves right now, after all he just wanted to get under your skin and rile you up. And the less you talk, the better.

He hums to himself, as he bends down to pick up one black, lacy pair of undergarments, inspecting them closely. His thumbs grazing over the neat material, fingertips holding them up in the air. You don’t realize he took something from the basket to your left until he comments on them.

“Are these new? Must be, huh... your little ass would look sooo cute in them. Are you gonna wear them for me one day, Y/N?” his low voice echoed through the tiled room, and you are fast to react: snatching the pair of panties back, out of his grip and throwing it back into the basket. Scoffing, showing your stride at him without any hesitation. “In your dreams. Now, leave me alone. I’m not gonna repeat myself, Choi.” Your features twist as you grow more and more annoyed with him.

“Oh don’t worry,” he backed up a few steps, but the cocky grin stayed on his lips, “with that attitude I’ll most certainly dream of it.”

You heard the door twist, which could only mean that Wooyoung was finally here to save you from any further suggestive comments. Considering you couldn’t stand anything more that was about to leave his mouth.

Admittedly, San has his reputation for a reason: him being one of the most handsome guys you have ever laid your eyes on. And if he wasn’t such an asshole, there would be a possibility you’d be interested in him. And yes, if the stigma that your parents had embroidered into your brain, that ‘sex is bad’ and to stay ‘pure’ until you’re married. If you could push that out of your mind for good, you would be maybe like San. Maybe, you’d even be with him... but god forbid he would ever find out you thought of him like that, especially when you had one of your moments, late at night. If he would know about your honest thoughts, he would use it to his advantage. He wouldn’t give in until he got his way with you - in his very own way.

“San-ah! Come on, we gotta go!” your roommate screams and prompts the visitor to get going quick.

“Too bad, guess I’ll see you around, Y/N. Maybe one day my dreams will become reality nonetheless.” He turns on his heels and dashes towards his friend. The repeating sound of the lock falling into place made you sigh out loudly, pressing your forehead against the cold material of the washing machine you’re still sitting in front of.

Incidents like these are not new and you have already gotten used to San having zero shame when it came to anything even remotely personal or sexual. He knew how he comes across, which only scores him more and more girls to take home and to make his body count grow rapidly. But until now, it hasn’t worked with you, and he’s trying time and time again to wrap you around his finger. Without success.

And you planned to keep it this way.

–

“I hate you for dragging me here.” you groaned after you kept chewing on the rim of your red cup. The girl on your right ignored your comment and kept scanning the crowd.

It was unbelievable, but yes: you were stuck on a frat party... again. Your cousin Mijung needed to meet a guy she was planning on hooking up with, and you lost a bet, so you had to go with her. In secret, she was still scared to go by herself and you wanted to help her - regardless of that you hated parties like this. Obviously, you hoped that she wouldn’t leave your side too soon, but at the same time it only meant you could get home earlier, which was a win in your books.

„Sure you do. But I don’t care right now, because you owe it to me. You could let loose for once and also get some good di-“

„No, I’m not, and you know I can’t!“ you cut Mijung off and she lifts her hands up in defeat.

She just scoffs while scanning the place for faces she might recognize. “Yes, yes I know. God forbid your parents ever find out your at a party like this, or even have sex. But they have nothing to worry about.” Thinking to yourself that they really do not need to worry, but deep inside you wanted to do all these things that you got restricted from. Forcefully restricted yourself from, and the longer you thought about it, you wanted to go against it. Date and sleep with guys as you please, live a little. But still, something unknown was holding you back from it.

“You know it’s not just that but also-“ you started explaining yourself for the nth time in your life, but now she cut you off and hopped off her barstool. The man she was waiting for finally appeared and she left with him after they exchanged a quick peck as a greeting. Being uncomfortable with the scene, you fumbled with your phone in order not to look awkward or out of place - but that’s exactly what you were. And on top of that, you were alone.

You held your phone tightly in your grip, watching over the intense crowd, people on people and the sight made you nauseous, especially when you locked eyes with someone that was kissing or grinding on each other. You wanted to be able to do those sorts of things, but at the same time it scared you, almost disgusted you. But the sting of alcohol in your cup that you barely drank made everything worse. The situation altogether was just too much for you.

“Now look at that, am I high or is the notorious Y/N at our place?”

You cursed to yourself when you recognized his voice.

“Fuck off, Choi.” was the first and only thing that you could think of while still scrolling mindlessly through your apps to appear busy.

He slides into the seat Mijung left empty just a few minutes ago. “Now, you know that doesn’t affect me. I just wanna talk a bit. I’m not feeling getting hammered tonight if I’m being honest.” He started a conversation and you forced yourself to look at him. He looked too good to be true with his messy hair and black shirt and jeans. But you ignored his visuals in order to give him a strict look.

“And what do you wanna talk about? We never talk. And I’m not gonna be here for much longer anyways.” You explained and San rose and eyebrow at your comment. “Oh? So we’re do you plan on going?”

You didn’t know, since Mijung was left so early, you haven’t given it any thought other than going back home, even if it was too early to leave, but yet dark outside.

“Home. To my dorm. I hate places like this.” You looked away, and he noticed your discomfort. The atmosphere was really awkward between the two of you. As a result you turned slightly away from him.

He sighs, “You know, we can go somewhere quiet.” You adamantly shake your head at his suggestion, “no, I’m not going anywhere with you. You’re aware of your reputation and so am I. I’m not doing that.” you spat disheartinly, assuming it was another one of his attempts to get into your pants. But surprisingly, it wasn’t.

“No, you listen now,” he took hold of your arm and twisted you back to face him. “You’re uncomfortable here, I can see that. I’m taking you to my room. And not to get with you, but because I promised Wooyoung to take him home when he’s completely wasted tonight. I can take you home then alongside him.” he says and his brows furred a little.

Wooyoung was someone you trusted, so if he trusted San to take him home when he’s completely shitfaced, then maybe you could also trust him? All alarms went off in your head telling you he was anything but trustworthy. But as you looked into his eyes, there was something genuine about his offer. But after a few moments of thinking, you gave him the benefit of the doubt: you complied and nodded, “okay, but just because Woo trusts you.” But that was enough for him.

He got up and urged you to come after him, walking up the stairs until the loud noises from the other people steadily died down. After the two of you entered his room, your nervousness und sense of awkwardness disappeared again. Even if it was San, you were used to him, to his presence. And it was better then to be lost and alone downstairs.

“Make yourself feel at home.” He introduces you when he plops down at his bed, while you took a closer look around his personal space. There were plenty of books on his shelf, a flag hung up on the wall, and the desk was messy in books and other stuff he used frequently. To be honest, you imagined his room to be more messy, but it was just a kind of creative chaos.

The silence in his room was thick. He watched your movements closely for a while, but you tried to give him not much attention, even if you felt his stares linger on you. Minutes passed until he started to speak up again:

“Do you mind if I ask you something? I’m kinda curious, y’know.”

You turned around and look into his eyes, that are loosely hidden behind his dark strains of hair over his forehead. Arms pushed behind him on the bed to support his upper body, leaning back. You walk back a little until you sit down in a giant bean bag that was in the center of the small room. While you adjust yourself you look over to him once again, signaling him to continue talking. He sits up a little, leaning forward, elbows resting on his thighs.

“You know, any other girl would beg me to fuck them if they were in your spot. Why are you so determined to do anything but that?”

Taken aback, you knew San was bold, but you didn’t expect him to go there, especially not at this time, when he offered a hide out for you so considerably. Shrugging your shoulders you dip your chip to your chest and try to figure out a way to answer his question.

“I’m, uhm, I’m... it’s just not my thing.” You stutter out, and you are pretty sure you have an aura of uncertainty surrounding you. Of course, San picks up on it:

“Wait, not your thing? What kinda guy did you sleep with that make you think that way about sex? Or girl?” His facial expressions clearly confused, not yet understanding your reasoning.

You stayed silent. Because you couldn’t muster to say the truth: you haven’t. Yes, you were a still a virgin, in college. Nobody knew other than Mijung, not even any of your closest friends. And the fact that San was this close to discovering your secret, or probably already did, made you anxious.

“Mmh, I get it now. You never got laid. Not even once in your life. Am I Right?” He assumed and hit the nail right on the head. You wanted to cuss him out, hit and slap him, but that would only prove him right. The blush that crept on your face was answer enough for him. He stood up from his place on the bed to sit back down next to you on the floor. You couldn’t look at him, because of the pure humiliation he’s putting you through, trying to get swallowed by the fuzzy material of your seat.

“So that’s the reason you’re acting like this most of the time: you have never gotten any action together than with yourself. How am I only just now figuring this out?” He chuckles, having you in a spot were you couldn’t get out as easy as you’d like. Still not opting to speak, gnawing at the inside of your cheek instead, but you don’t need to anyway, because he continues to piece the evidence together.

“Wooyoung once mentioned you had strict parents, you know. Judging by how you act around your friends, I didn’t think you’d care about what they thought, no? You’re well past the age of being ‘daddy’s good girl’. And also by the way you throw shallow insults at me every time we are in the same room, I can tell you that you’re anything but the nice girl your parents want you to be. That’s not the real you. But Y/N, you know it’s your life? You can do whatever you want? If you want to take drugs, take them. If you want to smoke, smoke. If you want to get dicked down, then for fucks sake get some! You’re old enough to make your own decisions.”

Stunned by his rant, you scanned his face for any signs of emotions, but it was really hard to tell what was going on in his head. He sighs and dips his chin to the side, before finding your eyes again, taking your hand into his rough ones. The physical touch had a certain effect on you, and you wanted to be closer to him. Your future self your probably slap yourself in the face for this, but right now you got lost in his dark eyes and deep stare. Feeling vulnerable under the intensity of his gaze, not knowing what to do or say. Taking a quick breath, you uttered under your breath “where is this going, San?” Against all expectations, he smiles.

“Anything that happens here, between you and I, nobody else is gonna know about it. Not a single soul.” His hand slowly start to wander up your arm, touching the skin of your neck and threads his fingers through the strains of hair that rest on your shoulder. You don’t feel anything other than the alarms in the back of your mind slowly subside and be replaced by other thoughts.

“Just tell me no and I’ll stop.” His voice comes out raspy and seductive, and it sends waves of arousal down your core, even if the only physical contact you two had was from his wandering hands. The thought excited you, and he had a point: you could do whatever you wanted, and up until now, the consequences would keep you from giving into him. But there are no worries of the sort holding you back anymore, and if it was only for tonight, so be it. He was to strong, his effect was too strong.

His eyes never leave yours, until you give him an answer.

“Yes, okay. Yes I want it. I want you to show me what I’m missing out on.” You brace yourself for whats coming next, but nothing could prepare you for what he had in mind. He grabs your hips to lift you up, and in shock your arms fly to grab his shoulders. He settles you down in his lap, hands immediately find your ass and grips the flesh through your jeans. You both lean forward, hot breath mixing and hitting your faces. That was until San looses his patience just a few seconds later and presses his lips onto yours. And it wasn’t like anything you have ever felt before.

The two of you move in sync for what feels like ages, his tongue entering your mouth and taking the lead as he continues to grip your waist and butt to draw a few whimpers out of you. Your fingers found their place in his nape and gripped his hair as you busied your mouth with his. He breaks the kiss and moves down towards your neck and starts to suck on your skin, making marks blossom in shades of red and purple.

“If you want this to be a secret, you should make sure to cover up your marks later, because I’m not letting you go without adding my mark to your beautiful, beautiful body.”

Eyes blown out in lust, and you died in anticipation. He sucked more and more hickeys until he was satisfied with the finished product. He lifted his head up again and you wanted to kiss him again.

But then, you heard something hit the door from the outside, followed by a thud and a load groan. “San-ah! Let me in, I need to -“

—