#wanted to say something. If i come across as harsh i'm sorry but this really pissed me off

[fowlblue]

———

So it seems I cannot actually respond to this post properly, but, friendly reminder from someone who is actually dealing with the HPAI precautions every day (as someone studying at a wildife rehab center)-

The fact is is that the primary concern for its spread isn't domestic poultry, it's wild birds, especially waterfowl because it spreads through water (through feces/saliva). That's why you're being asked to take down your birdfeeder these days.

No one's trying to 'justify animal agriculture' either- the culling is done for a reason. This disease is highly pathogenic- the HP in HPAI. Symptoms take time to appear and by then it's too late regardless. This isn't just a problem in farms, it's everywhere- wildlife rehabilitation centers (like the one I study at) have to take these precautions too.

This isn't a little disease either- it's a horrible way to go for these birds. It has spread to other farmed animals- it has spread to people. Humans. Sporadically, yes, but isn't that how it always starts? We really, really don't need a highly pathogenic illness being spread by birds.

(Also, to note- while this particular strain is believed to have started among domestic waterfowl (not chickens), avian flu itself began in wild birds.)

This isn't 'incubated' by poultry farms, as this responder claimed. The strain didn't even start with chickens. Fact is that now that wildfowl have caught it (with wild ducks being one of the worst carriers as they can be asymptomatic), it's primarily spreading through that route, because those birds are actually migrating the way they always have, and carrying it with them, instead of staying on those farms. Culling those birds when one carries it is to prevent incubation.

Just take down your birdfeeder anyways. Make your posts about poultry farming if you like, but HPAI isn't a 'vegan time to shine', it's a serious problem. It's killing a lot of wild birds too, including many key raptor and vulture species.

[yanderenightmare]

TW: yandere, noncon, size/strength difference

gn reader

Thinking about breaking things off with your fuck friend 'cause you feel he's been catching feelings you have no intention of pitching...

“Why.” He asked, and the cross you’d made on your fingers in a wish to avoid the entire conversation untangled with a sigh.

“Please, don’t act dumb.” You groaned, exasperated and slightly irked. “You know why….” 

“No. Tell me.” He argued, and you sighed again in regret of your own common decency – wishing you’d taken the entire break-off over text instead, or at the very least taken the time to think about what you would say or do if and when he got this way. 

“You...”

You hesitated, taking a second to decide whether or not you really ought to voice it out loud – not because you had any doubts of it being true – but because the man in front of you was still very much a large brawny beefcake with temper issues no matter your sneaking suspicion that he saw you as something more than just a fuck friend.

“You’re getting too...” You continued, still scrambling for better words. Coming up short. “Clingy.”

He paused, his expression going from searching to a mix of offended and scrutinous.

“Clingy?” He repeated, forced disbelief a present factor in his tone. “If I remember correctly, you’re the one who clings to me- screaming my name- begging me to cum inside you and-”

You cut his rant off with yet another sigh accompanied by a shake of your head. “That’s not what I mean by clingy. I’m sorry, I should have said emotional, and your comment just proved that.”

You folded your arms across your chest, watching him reel.

“Anyway, it doesn’t really matter. We’re done.” 

You left him on the sofa to go put your shoes back on – admonishing yourself for coming inside in the first place when you could have just as quickly done this on the doorstep and walked away.

“You're not going anywhere until we talk this through.” He followed, his stronger hand latching onto your upper arm in a grip that was unnecessarily harsh.

You didn’t really mind, though – it was his lack of charm that had charmed you to begin with – you only wished he’d remained that same savage he was and not gone all lovey-dovey soft on you.

“There's nothing to discuss.” You felt as though you were repeating yourself, getting more annoyed by the fact. “It was fun; now it isn't.” You underlined, looking back into his eyes, cringing when seeing the gloss of something that you really hoped wouldn’t amount to tears while you were still there.

“I'm gonna need more than that.” He said, the grip on your arm still kept firm with no inclination of letting up.

You didn’t really want things to get more awkward by asking him to let you go – feeling as though maintaining the position of strength was important so he not mistake your resolution.

He had a nasty habit of never taking you seriously.

“You’re being childish.” You stated.

“Childish?!”

His grip tightened with his outburst, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t have your heart jump to your throat.

"Let go of me." Your voice had significantly diminished.

"You think you can tease me like this and then tell me to piss off?” He seethed, your arm aching in the bruising grip he had on it as he pulled you close until your face was an inch from his. “Think again."

Your breath thinned under his glare, and you felt nearly too stiff to do anything except stare back up at him in wait.

“Calm down.” You tried, but it seemed choice words were too little too late to save you.

“I am calm.” He hissed back into your face before pulling you back to the sofa.

Throwing you down on your back – you didn’t even have the time to gasp before he was on top of you.

“Get off me-” You whined, your hands shooting forth – trying with all your might to heave him off, but ultimately amounting to nothing more than a slight annoyance to the much larger man on top.

“It's all about sex with you, right? You want to have fun, right?” He said in a craze, and you cringed while he leaned down to graze your chest with chin-stubble and lips, whispering at your peachfuzz until goosebumps rose. “So let's have some fun.”

“Stop it – I said I don't want to anymore – I’m being serious.” You tried, once again – appealing to his reason.

But it would seem he was beyond reason…

“Oh? You're being serious?” He mocked with a sneer and a laugh. “You don't look it. If you want me to stop so badly, then stop me. Come on~ try a little harder. Show me how serious you are.”

You’re not sure why you took him up on the challenge, as you’d long known of your differences in build – how you posed as much of a threat as a bug in a mason jar...

But even a bug will try to escape still after the lid has been sealed.

“Come on~ you're not even trying~” He grossly crooned, smiling at your pitiful attempt at twisting him off with the useless help of your silly hands – how your much smaller body writhed beneath his weight and tried wriggling free.

Laughing dryly, he took your hands by the wrists and pinned them to the cushion beneath you. Sagging over you, his breath fanned your lips.

“What was I to you, huh?” He asked in a murmur, his face blank but his eyes swirling. “Just a toy?”

You were afraid to breathe, only keeping your gaze terror-wide of what he might do – still grasping to fathom how he’d even felt possessed enough to do this much – confused as to how you’d missed the signs while having not a single clue what more he was capable of.

“Guess now you're my toy, huh...” He muttered coldly.

And you just couldn’t help the whimper that it tore from you – finally understanding exactly what position you were in.

The disorienting knowing of what was soon to happen dawned on you mercilessly – and you completely broke under the hefty weight it had. 

“Oh? You’ gonna cry now?” He scoffed before hissing. “That's cute, seeing as I’m the one who’s had his heart stepped on.”

“S-stop it, get off me-” You cried, whole body shaking where you squirmed to no use nor end.

“Not so cold-hearted now, are yah, fuckin' bitch?” Was all he had to say while leaning into where thick streams of tears rapidly ran down your cheeks in stingy streaks. “You scared?” He whispered in licks at your ear. “Gonna start begging, hm?”

You only shook – eyes squeezed tightly to a close.

“Nah…” His tone scraped, similar to how the shaven stubble on his chin scratched lightly against your neck as he started placing small kisses there despite your whines. “'Cause you want this too. I know you do.” He insisted. “You're just scared I'll break your little heart at some point.”

You’re breath hitched as his hands parted with its twin – leaving it to keep your wrists pinned by itself as the other one traveled down between your bodies to undo your zipper.

You wanted to say something, but you were too scared to – listening to him and his lovesick speech – full of so many things you feared could trigger much sicker things.

“But I promise you that no one’s heart is gonna break here.” He vowed, still with his lips pressed wetly against your throat. “Not yours or mine.”

BNHA – Bakugou, Shinso, Kirishima

JJK – Sukuna, Gojo

HQ – Kageyama, Kuro, Oikawa, Sakusa, Miya twins

BLLK – Reo, Isagi

AOT – Eren

[unlosts]

Two Pair.

Summary: After a rough case Spencer keeps you company while the rest of the BAU sleeps.

A/N: I posted and then deleted this right away, but here it is again. I'm working on a couple of longer one shots but I still wanted to get something shorter out.

“Okay, whatcha got?” You ask, eyes narrowed taking in the lanky 6’ something man sitting across from you, his expression unreadable.

“I have a two pair” He says, sounding resigned, probably already well aware that he’s about to lose.

For the second time in a row. 

“Ha! A straight flush! Read em’ and weep doc” You said smugly, and perhaps a tad too loudly since what comes next is a loud shushing noise from the lump in the couch formerly known as Derek Morgan. 

“Sorry” You whisper back. It’s around 2am and most of the team is sound asleep, even Hotch who’s usually the last one out, the only ones still awake were you; whose adrenaline was still pumping strong after a car chase resulting in a very near miss, and a very much dead suspect. It had left you jittery and off balance, the sensation of failure hanging heavy on your shoulders and leaving you unable to close your eyes for even a few minutes, much less sleep. 

Spencer seemed to be in a similar state even though he had been left at the station, working on the geographical profile when you headed out. 

So three rounds and two winning hands later here you sat, no closer to sleep than before but his company was soothing.

Spencer operated on a set of carefully crafted routines, from his mornings in the bullpen at the BAU (One coffee with at least four suggars, eight crossword puzzles and at the very least a couple of newspapers before he could start on the seemingly never ending pile of case files haunting his desk), to the post case decompression routine (A chess match against himself or a poker game, usually against you). 

You found it soothing to watch, the expected repetition letting you know that you could relax, that everything was over with. 

So here you sat, in the back of the plane with only Spence’s long legs crammed in the smaller seat in front of you, knees bumping yours every time you so much as breathed.

His book light was the only thing illuminating your poker game and the harsh shadows cast over the table did make it harder to distinguish the numbers (the fact that you were refusing to use your glasses didn’t help either). 

A small stack of peanuts sits between you both, acting as poker chips. 

Despite your clear gloating Spencer just smiles at you, seemingly equally pleased, and keeping his losing hand close to his chest. 

“So, feeling any better?” He asks while shuffling the deck. You go towards the kitchen, softly squeezing Spencer's shoulder in gratitude as you pass by him. The tense wiry muscle underneath his soft purple shirt gives in to your touch and you linger for a second, giving him a small smile before you go. 

“Much, in fact i’m going to get a cup of tea and hopefully doze off for a couple of hours” You reply from the kitchen. 

“Remind me again of the chances of winning twice in a row?” Chimes in Derek unexpectedly from the couch, his eyes are still closed and even though you can’t see him he’s sporting a knowing smirk. 

“Um well it’s about 4% actually” Answers Spencer awkwardly, giving the kitchen a furtive look to make sure you’re not really paying attention to the conversation. 

“Huh, guess I must have gotten pretty lucky then” You say, too busy making your tea to hear Derek's response to Spencer, quiet but still teasing exclamation of “My man”

But when you did return to your seat right next to him you couldn’t help but notice that his cheeks were a tad pinker than they had been before. 

[homerforsure]

Saw the episode. Ascended to a higher plane. Wrote a small Coda that is as messy as my brain is right now. Bone Apple Tea.

"Heyyyyyy Buck!" Eddie answers the phone with a drawn out salutation that proves Tommy was not lying about him being sent away from the hospital with the good drugs. Or, not lying about the prescription, but about Eddie actually taking them. It wasn't so long ago that Eddie would take enough medicine to avoid being in agony, but never quite enough to actually feel relief. He wouldn't do that for Tommy, however close they are. It's something that Eddie's doing for himself. Buck's stomach was a swarm of butterflies three seconds ago, but that and the floaty happy way Eddie still says his name, has him smiling again in his kitchen.

"Hey Eddie. I, um, I'm sorry to call so late. I just wanted to see how- how you were doing."

"Eh, I'll miss a shift or two. But Doc says I'll be ready to go for playoffs," Eddie answers.

Guilt twists through him, harsh and acidic and Buck says, "Well I'm glad to hear that. They say the team doesn't have a chance without you and your, um, sky dunk." Eddie laughs, giggles really, in reply and Buck says, "I'm sorry, Eddie. I don't know why I did that. I mean- I- I know why. I was jealous of you and- and Tommy-" Buck's heart flips as he says his name and he's afraid the kiss is going to come flying out of his mouth and down the phone line- "But I never wanted you to get hurt like that."

"You wanted me to get hurt different?" Eddie asks, still laughing, but Buck feels stricken.

"No! I- maybe. I don't know what I wanted. I lost my mind for a little bit."

"You were jealous," Eddie repeats.

"Yeah, I was."

A long sigh and Eddie says, "I'm sorry."

"You don't have anything to be sorry for. I was the asshole. I could have- I knocked you out of your shoe."

"Do you have my shoe?" Eddie asks, more focused than he has been the rest of the conversation. Buck can hear him sitting up on the couch.

"Uh, no. No, I gave it to Chim. He's gonna give it to you when he sees you. And probably make about 50 Cinderella jokes."

"Right. He texted me. I remember."

"I'm sure he'll bring it by sooner if you need it. Or he could give it to Tommy." The flush is there again, hot down the back of his neck. Buck doesn't know how he's supposed to do this. Where is he supposed to keep all of this heat and possibility while he waits for Saturday.

"You don't like him."

"Who? Chim? He's growing on me."

"Tommy," Eddie answers in a tone that says duh. "You can't even say his name normal."

Of course Eddie can hear that. Of course he assumes that's the problem after the way Buck has acted since the moment they met the man. He thanks god that he decided to call instead of driving across town and checking on Eddie in person. His cheeks and his ears are burning like fire.

"He can tell, you know. We both can. He said he's going to come talk to you. Gave him your address. Wants to apologize." Eddie must have settled back down on the couch. He sounds sleepier, his sentences getting shorter and more breathy.

"He did. He um. He came by. We talked it out. I told him you guys didn't have anything to apologize for. I was the one who made it weird."

"So weird," Eddie agrees and Buck laughs. "You guys should be friends. He's awesome and you're awesome and we can all hang out together and it would be..."

"Awesome," Buck finishes. He thinks it might be.

"I forgot you don't know that."

"Know what?" Buck asks, when Eddie's mumble doesn't come with any additional clarification. "Eddie?"

"Hmm?"

"Never mind. Hey, you should get up and go to your bed. Sleeping on that couch is not going to help your ankle heal any faster."

"Tommy said that."

"Tommy's right. Come on."

Eddie groans as he sits up, cursing at Buck in what he thinks is under his breath, and asks, "You talked to Tommy?"

"Yeah, he just left."

"And we're okay? You like him now?"

Buck's blood roars through his ears and he wants to throw up and start laughing all at the same time. "Yeah, I think I do."

"Good."

He breathes through the sudden headrush as Eddie grumbles and hops his way off the couch and down the hall. Buck knows where he's finding his handholds by the echo off the walls and he winces when Eddie takes a misstep and swears again. He thinks for a second that he should be there, that he should help Eddie to bed, but Eddie would never let him. Buck wonders if Tommy would let him. He's wondering about so much now and he never did before.

"Hey, Eds?" The question is out before Buck realizes he's asking it, small and vulnerable, and he wants to claw it back and swallow it down before Eddie notices, but he doesn't have a chance.

"Yeah?"

Tommy kissed me. I want him to do it again.

"No, nothing. Just. I'm sorry. I was out of line."

"You were," Eddie answers. "And I forgive you."

Something settles in Buck then. A piece that had still been sitting off kilter and jamming painfully under his ribs. He takes a deep breath, and joy washes fully over him, calming and centering. He doesn't ask the question again though. He thinks he wants to keep this tiny, glowing treasure to himself. At least for a little while.

"Bring me my shoe back and we'll call it even."

Buck laughs, letting the sound ring out through his apartment and he can hear Eddie smiling on the other end of the phone.

[2millu2]

The Visit- Sanemi Shinazugawa

ఌ Ft.Sanemi x Hashira reader

Synopsis: Your previous encounter with Giyuu was caught by the eyes of Sanemi the way you where with Giyuu he wanted that he needed that.

Warnings: Smut, PwP?, Oral (male receiving), penetration, dirty talking, fem reader, cumming inside, unprotected sex, slight nipple play, groping, doggy style, missionary, swallowing cum, cream pie, slight spanking, rough sex

An: The waited part 2 and I was thinking of making part 3 with giyuu and Sanemi, Threesome??? Wc: 2.5k words

Part one: Tantalizing Smell - Giyuu

:::: Flashback:::::::

You trailed idle, trembling fingers over the twitching muscles of his powerful back, mapping each ridge and scar as you cradled him against you. The touch was electric, igniting sparks that danced across his skin. When he finally lifted his head, spent but glowing with satisfaction, You cupped his stubbled jaw and brushed your lips over his in a soft, reverent kiss.

Their mouths melded together in a languid, sensual exchange, all urgency faded into a tender intimacy. As they parted, Giyu's eyes finally got back to their normal dark blue and he finally caught his breath. "I'm s-sorry, I don't know what came over me," he says, his body looming over yours, eyes filled with regret.

Y/n smiled reassuringly. "Hey, it's alright. It wasn't really your fault, and I'm not mad that it happened." Giyu's face turned bright red as he regained his usual composure. He then helped you put on your clothes, the air thick with an unspoken understanding.

Meanwhile, hidden behind a nearby tree, a man watched the scene unfold, his cock in hand, filled with his seed. "Shit," he muttered, tucking himself back into his pants. "Who knew she was a fucking slut, doing it with that bastard Tomioka." The unknown man's face twisted with jealousy and disgust before he quietly ran off.

:::: End of Flashback ::::::

Later, as you relaxed in a long-awaited bath, there came a loud knock at your door. Wrapping a towel around your body, you got up to answer, wondering who could be calling. "Um, hey, do you need something?" You asked nervously as she opened the door to find Sanemi standing there.

Sanemi, always so harsh and angry, fixed you with an intense gaze. "Yeah, I need to talk. Mind if I come in?" His tone was gruff, but there was an underlying tension that piqued your curiosity. You hesitated for a moment, clutching your towel tighter, before stepping aside to let him in.

"Uh, sure, come on in," you said, your heart racing. Sanemi walked past you. Once inside, he turned to face you, his expression unreadable. "Alright, let's cut the crap. I saw what happened with you and Tomioka earlier." His words were blunt, cutting straight to the chase.

You felt a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck. "Look, I don't know what you think you saw, but it's not what it looks like," you said, your voice wavering slightly. Sanemi scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Save it. I know exactly what I saw, and I gotta say, I'm not impressed." His eyes narrowed, and you could sense the underlying tension simmering beneath the surface. "So, what, you're just some kind of slut who spreads your legs for the first guy who comes along?"

Your breath hitched as Sanemi's rough fingers traced the delicate lines of your jaw. His touch was electric, igniting a spark deep within you that you couldn't quite extinguish. "I-I'm not a slut, Sanemi," you stammered, trying to maintain your composure in the face of his intense gaze.

Sanemi's lips curled into a grin, his eyes darkening with barely restrained desire. "Is that so?" He leaned in, his breath ghosting over your neck, and you shivered at the sensation. "Because from where I'm standing, you look like you're just begging to be claimed."

His hand slid down the curve of your neck, fingertips grazing the sensitive skin, and you had to fight the urge to lean into his touch. "S-Sanemi, w... what are you talking about," you stammered, your heart racing.

Sanemi chuckled, the deep rumble of his voice sending a delicious shiver down your spine. "Don't play coy with me, sweetheart. I saw the way you were with Tomioka. The way you touched him, the way you kissed him..." His hand drifted lower, tracing the edge of your towel. "I want that. I want you"

You felt a flush of heat spread across your cheeks, your body betraying you even as your mind raced. "Sanemi, this is... this is too much. I can't-" your words were cut off as he pressed a finger to your lips, silencing you.

"Shh, you can, Y/n." His voice was low and sultry, laced with a primal hunger that made your knees weak. "You know you want." His hand slipped beneath the towel, caressing the soft skin of your thigh, and you felt a wave of desire wash over you as you pressed your thighs together feeling your wetness starting to build up.

In that moment, you knew you was helpless to resist him. Sanemi's touch was rough and firm. And his lips crashed against yours in a bruising kiss, you surrendered yourself to Sanemi.

Your heart raced as Sanemi pushed his tongue inside your mouth his tongues fighting for dominance and Sanemi obviously winning, this was all happening too fast. But deep down, you knew you wanted this ever since you became a Hashira - you couldn’t keep her eyes off him.

You’ve had always been drawn to his raw power, his unwavering determination, the way he commanded a room with his mere presence. And now, with his strong, hands caressing your body, that buried attraction surged to the surface, overwhelming your senses.

Sanemi's hand gripped your ass under your towel pushing closer to his body, you feel his hard bulge press against your abdomen. You bite your lip as you begin to palm his hard bulge. "That's it, sweetheart," Sanemi growled against your lips, his voice dripping with raw desire.

"Give in. Let me show you how a real man takes care of you." His teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your neck as you grip his bulge as making him emitting a low groan as he bucked his hips into your palm.

"S-Sanemi..."you breathed, your voice thick with need. "I... I want you." The words tumbled from your lips before you could stop them, and in that moment, you knew there was no turning back.

His lips curved into a smirk as he pushed you down on your knees “first show me what that pretty little mouth can do” he says smirking tangling his hand in your air as he look down at you with his darken purple eyes that you always loved.

Your fingers trembled as you reached for the waistband of Sanemi's pants, your heart pounding with anticipation. She could feel the weight of his hungry gaze upon

You, making you even more needy as you feels the wetness on your core.

Slowly, you tugged the fabric down, making his massive cock spring out and almost hit you in the face. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight, and you couldn't resist the urge to wrap your delicate fingers around his cock, stroking him with a featherlight touch.

Sanemi let out a guttural groan, his hips bucking slightly. "Fuck, sweetheart, you've got such pretty little hands," he growled, his voice dripping with lust. "Why don't you put that mouth of yours to better use?"

You felt a flush of heat spread across your cheeks, but you didn't hesitate. Leaning forward, you parted your lips and took his massive cock into your mouth, your tongue swirling around the sensitive head of his cock. Sanemi hissed through clenched teeth, his fingers tightening in your hair as he fought the urge to thrust deeper.

"Goddamn, that's it," he rasped, his grip tightening. "Suck me like the good little slut you are." He groaned as you took him down as far as you could down your throat gagging a bit.

Y/n moaned around his cock, the vibrations eliciting another strangled groan from Sanemi. You bobbed your head, taking him deeper with each pass while your hand pump the rest your mouth couldn’t reach, your eyes locked with his, silently pleading for more.

Sanemi's control was slipping, he thrust deep into your throat your hands gripping his thighs as you try to balance yourself, tears start to sting at your eyes at his brutal pace, his cock hitting the back of your throat repeatedly.

“Aww your crying already, I forgot how your a delicate flower” he smirks but it quickly slips away as he feel his climax approaching g. "Fuck, Y/n, I'm gonna-" His words were cut off by a guttural growl as he spilled himself down your throat, his grip on your hair almost painfully tight.

You swallowed every last drop, your tongue lapping at him greedily. When you finally pulled away, a thin trail of saliva connecting her lips to his still hard cock cock, Sanemi's eyes were dark with unbridled desire.

"You're full of surprises, aren't you, sweetheart?" he purred, his hand cupping your cheek. "But I'm just getting started with you."

In one swift motion, he swept you into his arms, placing you onto the bed. You let out a surprised yelp, your heart racing with anticipation as Sanemi moved on top of you, a desire and hunger filling his eyes.

"Now, let's see what other tricks you've got up your sleeve," he growled, his fingers tracing the curves of your body. "Because I plan on making you scream my name all night long."

Sanemi's positioned himself between your thighs, the tip of his massive cock teasing your slick folds he moved his hips thrusting his cock against your clit repeatedly making you whine and whimper and clench around nothing “Sanemi, please” you whined desperate to have him inside you.

"Look at you, all spread out and ready for me," he growled, his voice dripping with lust. Slowly, he began to push inside, a low groan rumbling in his chest as wet cunt enveloped him. "Fuck, you feel so goddamn good."

Your back arched, a strangled moan escaping your lips as you felt him stretch and fill your aching cock as he slowly pushes inside you you could feel every vine and throb of his cock . You clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as you fought to adjust to his sheer size of his thick cock.

Sanemi paused, his brow furrowed in concentration as he fought to maintain his control. "Easy, sweetheart," he rasped, his thumb brushing over your nipple trying to distract himself from just shoving himself all the way in. "Just relax and let me make you feel good."

Inch by agonizing inch, he sank deeper, his movements agonizingly slow and deliberate. Your eyes fluttered shut, a whimper of pleasure passing your lips as your body accommodated him.

"That's it, just like that," Sanemi murmured, his hand cupping your breast, kneading the soft flesh. "You're doing so good, taking me so well." He looked down on saw his cock bulging from your stomach he groans at the sight as he fought control to remain at a steady pace.

But as your inner walls fluttered and clenched around him, his control began to slip. A guttural growl rumbled in his chest, and suddenly, his hips were snapping forward the base of his cock right against your cock, he would deep inside your cunt making you moan loudly as you felt him reach deep inside you your hand squeezed the sheet under you.

"Fuck, Y/n," he groaned, his pace quickening, pulling out than thrusting his cock right back deep inside your walls stretching you out even more your eyes closed shut as you take in the pleasure. "you feel so goddamn amazing. I can't hold back anymore."

His thrusts grew erratic, each one more powerful than the last as he chased the precipice of ecstasy. You cried out, your nails raking down his back as you met his every movement moving hire hips with every thrust of his hip, your body burning with pleasure.

"Sanemi, please, don't stop!" You gasped, her voice dripping with need. "I need you, all of you!"

Sanemi's grip on your hips tightened, his fingers surely leaving bruises as he pounded into you relentlessly. "You've got me, sweetheart," he growled, his forehead pressed against yours. "Every goddamn inch of me is yours."

The coil of tension within you threatened to snap, your body trembling with the force of your impending release. Sanemi's lips crashed against yours, swallowing your cries as you shattered, your inner walls clenching around him in a vice-like grip.

Sanemi's rhythm faltered, his hips stuttering as he followed you over the edge, spilling himself deep within you with a guttural roar. You clung to each other, bodies intertwined, as the aftershocks of your shared ecstasy rippled through both of you.

Sanemi's primal hunger was far from sated. he pulled out of your trembling body and, in one swift motion, flipped you over onto your hands and knees.

"Did you really think I was done with you, sweetheart?" he rasped, his hands gripping your hips as he positioned himself behind you making you arching your back. "Not a chance in hell." He says memorized by your plump ass he grips it as he align himself with your wet aching cunt.

Without warning, he surged forward, his cock slamming inside you once more. You cried out, your fingers clutching the sheets as he began to pound into you with a relentless, punishing rhythm.

"Fuck, you feel so goddamn good," Sanemi groaned, his hips snapping forward with bruising force. "Taking my cock like you were made for it." He slaps your ass as he watches it bounce as he fucks you

Your body rocked with the force of his thrusts, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you fought to keep up. The sound of skin slapping loud in the small room, as you begin to fuck back onto his cock.

"That's it, sweetheart, take it," he growled, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips. "Take every inch of me like the greedy little slut you are."

Your vision blurred with tears of pleasure, your mind reeling from the sheer intensity of the sensations coursing through you. You pushed back against him even harder, meeting his every thrust with a desperate need.

"Sanemi, please, I'm so close," you gasped, her voice dripping with unbridled lust. Your hands move down to your clit rubbing it faster as you feel your release approaching.

Sanemi's pace grew erratic, his control slipping as the coil of tension within him threatened to snap. With a guttural groan, he buried himself to the hilt, his seed spilling deep inside you.

But he wasn't done yet. Pulling out, he quickly pressed his fingers against your swollen, sensitive cunt, pushing his own cum back inside your quivering cunt.

You let out a strangled whimper , your body trembling with the force of your release. Sanemi watched, transfixed, as you shattered beneath his touch, your inner walls clenching around his digits.

"That's it, sweetheart," he growled, his voice low and rough. "Take it all, every last drop. You belong to me now, do you understand?"

You could only nod, your mind still in a haze, as Sanemi slowly withdrew his fingers, a trail of their combined essence glistening on his fingers. He brought them to his lips, sucking them clean with a satisfied hum.

"Mmm, delicious," he purred, his gaze burning with possessive hunger. "I think this is the start of a beautiful partnership, don't you agree?"

[st4rreid]

well behaved padawan

mdni 18+

summary: you had been acting in like a brat all day, pushing Anakin to his limits until he had enough.

warnings: smutty smut smut, fem/ afab reader, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, swearing, p in v, power imbalance, edging/ orgasm denial, praise, degradation, teeny bit of aftercare, creampie, probably more but i’m tired.

A/N: iz actually posting for once??? drinking wine brings out the whore in me so i was possessed to write this.

wc: 1.5k

You know Anakin prefers a compliant padawan, pounding you into submission when the council smites him, or when missions don’t go exactly how he wants. Every now and again however, you can’t help but to act out, and get under that pretty tanned skin of his, and that’s exactly what you had been doing all day, rolling your eyes and sighing when he spoke, dragging your feet as you walked behind him through the temple, making lousy blocks when he lifted his saber at you in training.

Truthfully you didn’t know why you were in such a bratty mood, but you reasoned that you had just been too well behaved as of late and he should have to put in some work for once.

You knew when he pulled you into his quarters he’d be making you sorry for your actions.

"What's wrong Ani?" you purred, running your hands through his hair and tugging gently. “I know we’ve had a long day.”

Anakin's eyes darkened with desire. Almost always, he would take charge, but today, after your behavior he had something a little extra in mind. He sensed a challenge in your eyes, a playful sparkle that hinted at trouble.

"Get off me, brat," he growled, his hands going to grip at your thighs. "You know very well that your behavior today warrants a punishment.”

"Aw, come on, Ani," you cooed, leaning forward so that your nipples brushed against his chest. "I just want to make you feel good. Isn't that what good girls do?"

With a swift move, Anakin pushed you onto the bed, caging you between his arms. "Not this time, little slut. This time, I want you to beg. Beg me to fuck that pretty pussy of yours."

A mischievous glint met your eyes, your inner brat bubbling back to the surface. "Oh, really? And what if I don't want to?" You pushed him away, "Maybe I'll just go find someone else to scratch this itch. Obi-wan looked really really good toda-" *smack* you were interrupted by a harsh backhand across your face, head careering to the right.

Anakin's eyes narrowed, his possessiveness bubbling to the surface. "Oh, you think you can play that game, do you?" He closed the gap between you, his tall, muscular frame intimidating, yet incredibly attractive. "You forget who's in charge here, princess."

"Who's in charge?" you taunted, cheek stinging, yet not quite ready to submit. "I don't see anyone in charge here except me. And right now, I'm feeling very much in control."

Anakin's gaze darkened, and you could see the desire burning in his eyes. He placed his hands on your waist, tugging closer. "You want to play it that way, huh? Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you when it becomes too much for you.”

"You like being a naughty girl, don't you? Teasing me, playing with fire. Well, let's see how well you handle it."

You gasped as he pinned you against the wall, his mouth crashing down on yours in a hungry kiss. You melted into him, your brattish façade slipping as your need for him took over. His kiss was demanding, possessive, and it sent shivers down your spine.

His hands roamed your body, removing your robes as well as his as he went, cupping your breasts, tugging at your nipples, making you whimper into his mouth. Then, sliding his hand down your stomach, to the apex of your thighs, his fingers seeking the heat of your sopping core.

"Somebody's wet baby? It’s pathetic, like she’s crying for me, huh?" he crooned, his breath hot against your ear. "Did thinking about being a bad girl turn you on? Did you touch yourself, imagining it was my hand between your legs?"

you whimpered, head falling back as his fingers teased your clit. "No... I... I wanted you," you gasped, your body thrumming with need.

"Wanted me, huh?" Anakin said, his voice hoarse with desire. "Well, you’re gonna have to wait a little longer first ok? I can’t go around rewarding bad behavior.”

With that, he swept you off your feet and carried you to the bed, his eyes smoldering with a mixture of lust and dominance.

Sitting down on the edge of the bed he placed you, stomach down across his legs, hands roaming the curves of your ass. “Count.” he spat.

Feeling brave you rushed to start counting, before he could hand you the intended punishment. “one, two, three, fo- fuck!” you shrieked the painful stinging being more than you anticipated. “Feel like behaving yet?” he questions, and you can practically feel the smug smirk he's sure to have. You shake your head and let out a tiny “nuh-uh” that comes out more as a whimper as tears start to prickle at your lash line.

He raises his hand again and you tense in anticipation, needy hole clenching as he delivers another equally as mean smack. “T-two” you choke out, tears now freely falling down your face and onto the plush mattress beneath you. “There's my good girl again” Anakin coos, letting his dominant exterior fade for just a second as he strokes the reddened flesh.

His dominance quickly returns to the surface, as he delivers an ever so slightly softer hit to your hind. “Three” you sob, knuckles turning white as you clench your little fists together.

“Two more, pretty girl. You can do that for me right?” he croons, amused by how a few good spanks can completely dissolve your bratty display. You whimper a little “yes” between deep breaths to prepare yourself for the next one.

“Four!” you cry, cursing under your breath. Not wanting to delay any further, Anakin delivers the last firm hit to you. “Fuck-five!” you shout relieved that the onslaught of spankings was over.

Anakin soothes his hands over the new marks he had left, thoroughly enjoying his own handywork.

"Now, be a good girl, get on the bed and spread those pretty legs for me," he said, his voice low and husky.

Your bratty exterior had completely melted away, replaced by a needy, wanton whore. you did as you were told, spreading your legs wide, exposing your sopping pussy to him.

Anakin's eyes devoured the sight before him. "Such a pretty sight," he growled, positioning himself at your entrance, tip grazing your soaked folds. "You ready for me, baby?"

You nodded, your breath coming in short gasps. "Please, Anakin. I need you. Now."

With one swift thrust, he entered you, bottoming out. You cried out, in short broken gasps, your legs twitching as you took his whole length, the stretch was uncomfortable, but not entirely unpleasant, and almost completely eclipsed by the satisfaction of being so full. He began to move, his hips snapping as he plunged in and out of your tight heat.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, his hands gripping the fat of your thighs as he pounds into you. “Your tight little pussy was made for my cock."

You moaned, your nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure coursed through you. "Please... right there... Oh God!"

His thrusts became more urgent, his body slick with sweat as he drove into you again and again. Your hips bucking up to meet his in perfect synchronicity. The room was filled with the sounds of your combined passion—the slapping of skin, ragged breaths combined, and your moans of pleasure.

"I'm close... so close," you panted, your body tensing as an orgasm built within the pit of your stomach.

With the admission of your impending orgasm, Anakin’s hips stilled, that cocky, knowing smirk plastered on his face. “Hm I don’t know baby.” he croons “I still haven’t forgotten your insolence.”

Your chin started to wobble. Tormented by his throbbing cock still buried deep within, angry red tip weeping inside.

“‘m sorry! Please, just let me!” you cried out, thick, hot tears sliding down your face.

He resumes his movements, this time deliciously slow, allowing you to feel every vein along his length. “Are you going to misbehave again like you did today?” he smirks, knowing he’s got you exactly where he wants; a whiny mess, broken and needy.

You shake your head, tears freely flowing down your face, “ ‘m not, no. never again.” you grip onto him tighter, surely leaving little crescent marks, on the taught skin of his shoulders.

“Promise me baby, y’know I hate not giving you what you want” liar, he’s found this process entirely satisfying, but he doesn't want you to know that yet, not when you've taken his condescension so sweetly.

“Please Ani, i- I promise.” with your verbal pledge he kisses away the sweetly salty tears coating your face before returning to pound into you.

"Cum for me, baby," Anakin growled, his voice thick with his own desire. "Let me feel that tight pussy milking my cock."

Your body shook as an intense orgasm ripped through you, walls clenching tightly around his shaft. "Anakin! Oh fuck!"

Feeling your orgasm, Anakin let go, his own release crashing over him. "Fuuuck!" he grunted, his hips stuttering as he filled you with his hot sticky cum.

Collapsing onto you, he kissed you deeply, their sweaty bodies still joined together. "Gods, baby," he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. You hazily smiled, still vibrating from the intensity of your orgasm. “You’re all sweaty Ani, and heavy. We need to shower.” Anakin hummed, still not ready to move “just five minutes like this princess.”

[spideyanakin]

10 things i hate about you - chapter 6

eddie munson x harrington!reader

summary - a new rule strikes the Harrington household: if Steve wishes to date ever again, his sister needs to find a boyfriend first. As Steve becomes desperate and thinks of everything in his power to set her up, only one guy comes to mind that will take up a challenge such as that: Eddie Munson.

warnings - the moment you have all been dreading (I'm half sorry), mentions of death, eddie and his questionable dares, joyce buying christmas lights in april, some fluffy fluff, and ofc; a sprinkle of angst

word count - 8.8k

thank you to the amazing @inknopewetrust for proof reading most of this series <3

series masterlist

eddie munson masterlist

"Eds!" Gareth clapped his hands in front of his friend's face. 

“What?”

"You're sulking"

"I'm not sulking."

"Why are you sulking?" 

There was a pause, a short, challenging silence slithering between the trays of food and drinks before Eddie spoke again with solemn words;  "I think I'm in love with her." 

And just as the words left Eddie's lips; Gareth huffed loudly alongside two other Hellfire boys. Gareth sent a piercing glare towards his dungeon master–ripping a piece of white bread from his tray and throwing said piece towards Eddie’s face, making it land in his curls.

“Hey! What was that for?” Eddie swatted the bread away, watching with raised eyebrows as his three closest friends fished for something in their pockets; simultaneously pulling out twenty dollar bills. Eddie watched, eyebrows creasing to a frown as the three twenty dollar bills traveled across the table; right into Oliver’s hand.

"Did you have to say love?" Jeff whined.

"Yeah, the bet was lower at like, or really liked," Gareth gruffed, Oliver simply shrugged while Eddie stared—too dumbfounded to speak. The blonde guitarist counted his money before neatly folding it and placing it in his back pocket.

"I'm going to pretend like you guys haven't betted on me," Eddie said before poking his fork around his plate, attention focused on the carotte he was making dance across the paper. “Anyways, it’s not that bad, you guys should be happy for me!”

"Yes it's bad, terrible even!" Oliver dropped his can of mountain dew, drops spilling out from the harsh clatter of it against the table–and Eddie gulped when he made eye contact with the daggers in Oliver’s eyes.

Unfortunately, all his lost heart could do was look back at him like a lost puppy–big eyes pleading for help rather than judgment, and just for a moment–Oliver caved. 

A short sigh escaped the blonde’s lips, and he leaned back on his chair in thought. That action caused a new silence, one filled with short huffs and glances from the boys; right until Eddie broke it again.

"I know," he pushed his tray away before leaning back, imitating his guitarist, "I don't know what to do."

"Call the deal off?" Gareth suggested.

"Yeah, that's the most obvious thing, Gareth!" Eddie almost screamed. "One problem; Steve keeps handing me bills like he’s a fucking ATM machine. I have three hundred fucking dollars from him that I refuse to use!"

"I thought that's what you wanted, extra cash," Oliver’s voice was dry, and it almost made Eddie flinch.

"I don’t think I ever took the deal for the money…” He closed his eyes, sighing through his nose, “I think she kind of always fascinated me.”

“So, let me get this straight. Instead of just asking the girl out, you made a deal with her brother that he’d pay you to go out with her?”

“Kind of?” He winced at his own words. “I didn’t realise how fucked up this whole situation was!”

“As if we hadn’t warned you!” Olivier exclaimed, tone almost condescending which sent a new pang across Eddie’s chest. 

He didn’t want this. He didn’t need judgment from his best friends, his own internal turmoil was enough.

He was asking for help and Oliver was throwing hard cold judgment across his face like the iced daggers he’d write about for his campaigns.

He felt like Boromir. Tempted by the worst of forces–hypnotized by his mistakes, too enticed to step back–and now he was paying the consequences, as invisible arrows were shot right through his heart.

“Hey calm down Ol’,” Gareth defended, humming in the best soothing tone he could muster; “screaming at Eddie won’t make this any better for him.”

“Right, because he so understood when we told him this was a bad idea three weeks ago,” and with his words, the table fell silent.

Everyone looked at each, carefully assessing the situation and how to proceed. Would anyone dare to break the silence? Even Jeff wondered if he could chew his food and finish his lunch without all eyes turning to him.

Eddie crossed his arms over his chest in subconscious defense—gaze to the side and fixed on the back of a random blue cafeteria chair.

He truly didn’t know what to do. Everything in him wanted to cancel this stupid deal, tell you the truth and just hope that you wouldn’t hate him forever. 

Or maybe he could call the deal off and never say a thing—but he’d have to live with that secret for the rest of your relationship.

But thinking about the possibility that you could discover the deal on your own made him shiver. He knew that would hurt you the most, that you’d most, probably, definitely hate him for the rest of your days, and he could say goodbye to ever even being close to you again.  

“Hey boys,” your sweet voice broke the undeniable tension, and like a bee pulled towards honey; Eddie turned his full attention to you.

He didn’t know if you noticed the energy, but if you did you didn’t say anything. He did notice your shoulder tense as every eye around the table turned to you, an oldy intimidating silence slithering up your spine–but the second Eddie’s hand reached your waist, it dissolved into a content smile.

“What were you talking about, I didn’t interrupt anything, did I?”

“Spring Fling.” 

“Our next performance.”

“A campaign.”

Eddie flinched, internally cringing at the multitude of answers that rang across the table at the same time.

“O-ok?” You raised an eyebrow, hand resting against Eddie’s shoulder–silently asking for clarification.

“Mainly, Spring Fling, babe,”

“Ah,” you squeezed his shoulder, already pouting before the next words came out of you, “will you be mad if I say no to going?”

“I get you for not wanting to go,” Oliver chimed before chugging the end of his mountain dew.

“Yeah, staying home too?” You asked.

“Oh no, I’m going, don’t know why though,” and as the words left his mouth, he eyed knowingly at Gareth. 

“See, Eddie! Olivier is going! Gareth is saved! We don’t have to go!” You squeezed his shoulder and Eddie gulped. This was not going to be easy.

“Y-yeah,” he could barely reply and Gareth shot him a quizzical look. 

Eddie was digging his grave right then and there. 

He really needed to break that damn deal.

~

“Hey Y/n,” Nancy caught up with you, ponytail bouncing as she ran the short distance between the cafeteria door and the lockers.

“What’s up?” You smiled once she was at your level, closing your locker and tightening the notebooks you were holding as you continued your way through the mass of students.

“Have you seen Barb?”

“No,” you frowned. “I haven’t seen her all day, actually, I was going to ask you. She didn’t have lunch with you?”

You watched her frown deepen, “no, she wasn’t there, I sat with Steve and his friends. I–um I haven’t seen her since yesterday at your place.”

“Oh, well I’m sure she’s fine, probably called in sick or something,” but your words didn’t soothe Nancy’s worries.

“I called her mom,” she averted her stare from yours.

“And?”

“She didn’t come home yesterday, or this morning.”

“Oh,” your heart sank down to your stomach, the uneasy feeling threatening to swallow you whole.

“Are you sure she left your place last night?”

“Yeah,” you matched her frown. “You don’t think-?”

“That she disappeared like Will?” 

“I don’t know… This whole situation just seems odd…” You looked around, maybe in search of something, just to be met with the mass of students that walked through the maze of hallways that was Hawkins High. No one seemed bothered; no one looked worried or stirred by what was silently unfolding in the city.

“Yeah…”

You brought your gaze back to Nancy, trying to hunt for a topic to change the subject–anything that could hook both your attentions elsewhere.

Then you saw it: the bright pink and yellow poster for Spring Fling. You huffed, ripping the poster from the wall and crumbling the paper, just to throw it in the nearest trash. An attempt at rebellion, maybe.

“Who the heck would go to that antiquated mating ritual.”

“I would!”

“Do you seriously want to get all dressed up so some rando with a boner dressed up in the first suit he found at Gap can feel you up while you’re forced to listen to a band that by definition ‘blows’?”

She scoffed, “the rando in question is your brother, may I add.”

“My brother?” You raised your eyebrows, “but I’m not going, he won’t be allowed to go.”

“You’re not?” She squeaked, eyes darting to your hands as you unfolded the wires of your walkman. “Steve told me you would. I think he assumed Eddie asked you.”

“Steve has no business assuming what I will or will not do, and Eddie has asked me, I told him no.”

“Why? I thought you liked Eddie.”

“Going with someone I like, still doesn’t change the fact that I find these gatherings dumb,” you accentuated your words by harshly placing your headphones around your neck, and locking your walkman onto your backpocket.

“Are you sure you won’t go? Just for me? Just so Steve will go, and by extension I will?” Her big blue eyes pleaded, lips forming into a pout, and for a split second you faltered, wondering if you could do this for your friend.

“I’ll see.”

“You are incorrigible,” she rolled her eyes, already knowing this meant no.

“Indeed I am,” you looked around, gaze flickering from the lockers to Nancy, “so do tell me, you and Steve last night, hm?” 

“Oh, shut up!” Her shriek made you giggle, and you would have continued teasing her if not for the hands that latched onto your waist, you jumped, shrieking before feeling yourself getting picked up into the air.

You immediately recognized the laugh that echoed in your ear, and Nancy’s smile gave the owner of those hands even more away.

“Eddie, let me down!” You giggled in echo with him, hands wrapping around his own before he dropped you back on your feet.

“Don’t you have a class to get to?” You mumbled as he pressed a kiss to your cheek.

“Mrs. Day called in sick, I have a free period.”

“Oh lucky,” you hummed, shoulders slumping at the anticipation of your next hour.

“Eddie?” Nancy spoke, making Eddie’s curls brush your cheek as he turned to face your friend. “Have you seen Barb by any chance?”

“Not since yesterday,” he shook his head and he sensed the way you tense up in his arms. “Everything ok?”

“We think she’s missing.”

“Missing? Like the Byers kid?”

“According to her mom, she didn’t come home last night, and skipping school isn’t like her,” Nancy bit her lip as she looked to the side.

“I mean, maybe she did. I’m not one to say that skipping school isn’t fun,” Eddie concluded, smirking slightly. He knew that this subject was reaching a dead end, and he sighed before turning his attention back to you. “What are you doing after school?”

“Nothing, why?”

“I found this new card game at the comics shop, and maybe if the game gets boring I can teach you D and D.”

“Are you asking me out on a game date?”

“Are you saying yes?” Instead of answering directly with words, you pressed a soft kiss to his lips, muttering your answer as you pulled away. 

“If you two will stop face fucking in the hallway, we’ve got class,” maybe it was jealousy that your brother wasn’t as sweet as Eddie picking at her stomach, or the stress from Barb stacking up, but she ripped her stare away from the two of you to stare at bright blue lockers on the other side.

“Sorry,” you giggled, slipping out of Eddie’s arms after stealing one last kiss. 

“I’ll see you after class, Eds.”

~

“What do you think they’re up to?” Your hand gripped Eddie’s a little tighter as you watched your brother and his friends laugh towards Johnathan. The poor Byers brother was being thrown around by the greedy hands of your idiot brother, the grim look on his face turned to disgust and anguish. You watched your brother, a loud chuckle ripping from his mouth. Your frown deepened as Tommy gave him one last push, Steve snatching pieces of paper from his grip.

Jonathan watched as Steve and Carol ripped to shreds the papers, they all laughed one last time; Tommy giving him a last cruel shove that almost made him trip before walking away. 

You took closer steps towards the parking–maybe in a quick attempt to help, but unfortunately, the group was walking right for the two of you, waltzing away from the mess they created towards god knows where.

“What did you do?” You grumbled as your path crossed your brothers, glancing behind his shoulder to spot Nancy jogging the distance between Johnathan and her group of new so-called friends. 

“You’ll never guess, the perv took pictures of us yesterday!” 

“What?”

“He was in the woods by our place, snapping pictures of us in the pool, even snapped shots of Nancy while she was changing.”

“Why?” You raised your eyebrows, squeezing Eddie’s hand.

“Caus’ he’s a perv?” Carol snickered, “and that’s all he’s found to do with his miserable life?” Tommy chuckled at his girlfriend’s words, and they disappeared behind you again, snickering as they left towards the field behind the High School building.

“Weird,” you muttered, watching Johnathan getting back into his car and leaving.

“You think he took my good profile?” Eddie, like always, pulled you out of your thoughts with a dumb joke, making you snort and playfully shove his shoulder. “What?” He offered a new laugh and you rolled your eyes.

“C’mon, let’s go try this new card game, I’ve had enough of this place for the day,” you tugged at his arm, dragging him further towards your car.

“Understandable,” he muttered, watching as you toyed with your car keys. “Hey, how about we pass by Melvald’s first? Grab some snacks and stuff.”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” your hand brushed his as you parted ways to climb in the driver’s seat.

Apart from the Metallica blasting from the speakers; the ride was quiet, peaceful almost, as you bathed in each other’s presence. It was nice, seeing the streets of Hawkins with someone you liked by your side–it almost all seemed less… daunting. It was soothing, knowing you’d get to have careless laughter over junk food and a pack of cards, letting the week’s worries and Steve’s torment slip away for just a few hours. 

You almost smiled when the red writing of Melvald’s came to view, stomach already growling not with hunger, but envy for cookies and candies–anything that could be considered a bad excuse for a dinner. 

You parked next to a mattered brown truck, mud stains on its wheels and rusty doors. Eddie placed a hand in his hair as he exited your car, a poor excuse at trying to tame his curls, but you smiled when his hair stayed as wild–it suited him better.

Your hand found his as you walked into Melvald’s. The shop seemed pretty empty apart from a few stray heads bopping out of aisles. 

“Afternoon,” you smiled at the owner behind the counter, he nodded before you both headed for the cookie aisle, grabbing one of those cheap red plastic baskets on the way.

“What are your favorites?” You hummed playfully as you scanned the shelves.

“I’d say Oreos are good, or um,” he thought, fingers going over his lips in thought. “Chips Ahoy! I love Chips Ahoy” 

“The white chocolate fudge ones are the best,” you turned to Eddie and watched his face turn in pure horror. 

“What did you just say?”

“That the white chocolate fudge cookies are the best?”

“I think you hit your head too hard as a kid, sweetheart. The normal milk chocolate ones taste so much better.”

“Hey! That is so not true,” you pressed on.

“They’re so sweet,” he scrunched his nose, “makes you sick if you eat too much.”

“Whatever,” you rolled your eyes, jokingly vexed at his hatred for your favorite.

“Oh my god, I used to love these as a kid,” Eddie’s face lit up as his eyes crossed paths with the a small white cardboard box, big smiles drawn over it. 

“Says the guy who called White Fudge Chips Ahoy too sweet,” you narrowed your eyes as he picked up the pack of Giggles from a shelf.

“You don’t want to get them?” He raised an eyebrow.

“No, no. I still love these, put them in,” you grinned, raising the basket so he could dump them in next to the pack of Oreos.

“What else should we take?”

“Drinks?”

“Yeah,” 

In twenty minutes spent in the store, your basket was already full with enough food and drinks for the entire of Hellfire. Cans of coke laying against bright blue cookie packaging and other junk food that had caught your attention. Eddie had ended up carrying the basket when it got too heavy, and now it rested by his feet as you waited in line. 

A middle aged woman was in front of you–a toddler in her arms as she fumbled with the coins in her wallet. The baby’s small hands were fumbling with strands of her red hair–babbling something as he watched his mother pay for her groceries.

You were so enthralled in the scene–trying to see how much strength the toddler could tug on the women’s red locks with, that you hadn’t noticed the familiar face settling in the cue behind Eddie. She was almost hidden behind a pile of boxes that laid upon one of her hands, the other gripping the bar of a shopping cart, and you only recognised her by her anxious sigh as she tried to balance the boxes in her grip.

“Oh, hey Joyce,” you smiled, a gentle smile that bled with your compassion and she suddenly turned her attention to you. 

Eddie also turned his attention to her–immediately realizing who this was. He’d seen her behind the counter more times than he could count, and he was also eighty percent sure that Wayne briefly knew her from High School, remembering their short conversations from the hundreds of times he helped his uncle shop here.

“Oh! Y/n, I didn’t see you there!” She spoke, almost startled by your simple greeting. 

She looked tired, like she hadn’t properly slept in days. Her hair poking all over the place, and she was anxiously tapping her foot against the white floor of Melvalds. You assumed she was off work with everything going on, since she wasn’t standing behind the counter like usual.

But what really caught your attention was the amount of Christmas lights she had gathered. At least twelve boxes had been stuffed in the kart, leaving no room for the five others that she held in her free hand. You couldn’t begin to wonder why she had bought everything out of the clearance section, but your heart ached as you watched her gaze falter to the window for a split second before going back to you. She shifted her grip on the boxes, and a new huff left her lips before she handed you a tight smile.

“Is Johnathan with you?” You wondered, eyes briefly going across the aisle visible from your spot in the line.

She shook her head, “he’s probably home right now,” you nodded at her words and watched as her gaze flickered around again–as if she was suddenly comfortable. Maybe it was the mention of her son; maybe a conversation or two about Will that caused tension to seep between them, when in fact they should be sticking together.

Her gaze faltered, becoming softer as she took new acknowledgment of you again. She sent a smile to you and turned to Eddie who was yet to talk.

“This is Eddie, my boyfriend,” you watched the expression on her face change–impressed, slightly surprised maybe.

“Wayne’s nephew right?”

“In the flesh,” Eddie smiled, politely nodding.

“Also I wanted to tell you,” you spoke again, Joyce’s gaze dancing back to yours. “If you need anything from us, you have my number, Joyce.” Her whole face softened, gratitude seeping in through her eyes.

“Thank you, honey,”

~

Eddie’s trailer felt just as you left it the day before. A cozy haven for the loneliest of souls to find refuge on cold nights. But to your surprise, Eddie didn’t remove his shoes once he crossed the threshold–he even told you to wait for him by the entrance with the multitude of bags filled with the sweets you’d bought. 

You watched as the metalhead bounced across his living space, shedding his leather jacket on the living room chair after he had complained that the spring sun was suffocating him, before he disappeared to his room, and came back with a small blue and orange metal box. His card game.

“Follow me,” Eddie swept past you, grabbing the two shopping bags and jumping the small steps out of his trailer. You raised an eyebrow before following him through the grass patch around his trailer, passing through a laundry line that hosted a few band t-shirts that could only be Eddie’s, and tattered work jeans that you assumed were Wayne’s. 

You intently watched as you both faced a small, thin ladder that climbed up to the trailer’s roof. “Can you take one?” you nodded as he handed you one of the plastic bags.

Eddie stuffed the small card game in his back pocket–you silently questioned him, he could have simply just put it in the bag he was holding. But that didn’t stop him from anything, and you carefully observed as Eddie hummed a ‘follow me’, before starting to climb the rusty ladder. 

You landed on the roof with a huff, and noticed that Eddie had already settled himself on a far off corner, the plastic bag neatly placed next to his feet. 

“Nice view,” you noticed. Smiling as you gazed across the sea of trailers, each painted in their own uniqueness. it was far off from the white picket fence houses–a sea of odd shapes and colors, but it was all the most comforting, lively even. Smoke coming out of barbecue grills, laughter spilling out of small backyards and the light breeze making the bright colored laundry dance. 

“You like it?” He grinned as he admired you trot towards him. 

“I love it,” you settled beside him on the floor, dropping your bag next to the other one and started fishing inside of it for your well earned snacks.

Your hands settled for a pack of oreos, settling it in your lap as you wiggled yourself to be more comfortable. 

"This feels like that one Elton John song."

"Which one?" He raised a playful eyebrow.

"We sat on the roof," your soft voice hummed, slithering into the soft breeze and to Eddie’s ears.

“Kicked off the moss,” he hummed along with you, making a giggle escape your lips.

“You listen to Elton John?”

“On occasions,” he murmured, busying himself with the bag next to him to fish for a can of soda. 

“Wow, didn’t take you for the Elton John type.”

“I’m a man of many mysteries,” he dramatically sighed.

“Shut up,” you giggled, rolling your eyes before grabbing your own can of coke–popping it open before finally speaking again, “so, that game of yours?” 

“Yes!” 

Eddie grabbed the small box from his pocket, eyes sparkling as he opened it and placed the lid at his side. He took the cards in his hands and started mixing them. 

“So, rules are simple, I think.”

“You think?”

“I didn’t read the rules.”

“Eddie, you can’t play a game if you don’t know the rules,” you giggled, grabbing the box at his side and taking the paper out.

“The guy at the shop told me how to play it, I thought I’d remember.”

“You’re impossible,” you huffed, unfolding the little paper and scanning through the words. You raised an eyebrow, reading through the instructions, “ok, so,” you licked your lips in thought before looking at the cards in Eddie’s hands. “We have to start with the card that looks like the cross path thingy.”

“Ok,” Eddie listened before flipping through the cards and placing said card in between the two of you; right next to the oreo pack. 

“Wait, Eddie.”

“What?”

“It’s from three to eight players,” you giggled. “Eddie, we can’t play.”

“What?” His eyes widen, ripping the rule book from your hands. “Oh,” he hummed, realization hitting. “Well, this sucks.”

“Yeah, dumbass,” you giggled, grabbing a new oreo.

He sighed, placing the cards back in their box before dropping them at his side, sharing a gaze with you. 

“What should we do?”

“Dunno,”

~

The sun had started to set across the trailer park, and a tumble of giggles seemed to be the main theme of your afternoon. One lone cookie was left in the Chips Ahoy pack, and the stacks of plastic wrappers and cans were starting to pile up; a show of the evening slowly dying out into night. 

“Ok, ok,” you giggled, leaning closer to Eddie. “Truth or dare?”

“Dare,” you raised an eyebrow at his reply, a smirk dancing across your lips.

“I dare you to compliment your neighbor’s dinner,” your gaze traveled to the elderly couple eating in the garden beside Eddie’s trailer. They looked happy–a couple who danced through time together. You could faintly hear their conversation in the distance, but barely making out words, and if Eddie shouted just enough he could easily spring a conversation.

“That’s so stupid,” he grinned.

“I know,” you giggled back and Eddie rolled his eyes before turning around to face his neighbor’s garden. 

He took a second to observe. The barbecue grill on the opposite side was still smoking from its use, and he spotted the home made burgers on their plates. That would be easy to compliment. Plus, Eddie didn’t mind, Wayne was on good terms with them, maybe less so Eddie as he often bothered them when playing guitar. But if the odd comment could bring a good laugh out of the two of you, then Eddie would gladly plunge into your dare. 

“Hey! Mr. Carol!” The elder man turned from his grill as the call reached his ear. “Good job on the burgers! They smell amazing!” You had to place a hand over your mouth to stop the giggles from tumbling like a waterfall as you watched the poor man’s face twist in an awkward smile, both of his eyebrows raised to the sky as he watched his teenage neighbor send him a compliment from his trailer’s roof. 

“Thanks Eddie.” The man awkwardly replied and Eddie saluted him before turning back around to you.

“Happy?”

“He looked so confused.”

“He did, didn’t he?” Eddie smiled with you, grabbing another oreo, before mumbling with a mouthful, “truth or dare?”

“Dare,” you smiled, keeping your gaze on Eddie as you grabbed the last Chip’s Ahoy, crumpling the wrapper in your hands and throwing it to the side to join the pile. 

“I dare you to take off your top,” your eyes went wide at his request.

“And flash the whole trailer park?” You shrieked and a loud laugh tumbled from Eddie.

“Well, already you did it for me once,” he dramatically sighed, poking at your ribs, creating another laugh to leave you. 

“I did it to save your ass.” 

“I know, I'm only kidding,” he smirked. “I’ll keep that dare for another time,” he smiled, knocking at you before looking down at the oreo’s in between you, “I dare you to fill your mouth with as many oreos as you can.”

“and?”

“If you manage to put seven in without almost choking, you get a prize.”

“Why seven?”

“Because that’s my record.”

“That’s so stupid,” you noticed.

“C’mon, do your dare.”

You rolled your eyes, keeping eye contact as your hand traveled to the cookies. You grabbed one-easy. The next one slipping nicely against the second one. You couldn’t look at Eddie anymore, the look in his eyes was enough to make you laugh and want to spit out the whole thing. The next two managed to fit, somehow, and you could hear Eddie chuckling, your gaze focused on the blue wrapper in concentration. 

But when you reached for the fifth one, about to place it in your mouth–you caved. Making eye-contact with Eddie. He was laughing like an idiot; watching your chipmunk cheeks with a devilish spark in his eyes. But that look was fatal, and a laugh climbed right through you, causing you to spit everything out to the side. 

Eddie roared even more with laughter and you had to playfully slap his shoulder in order to keep yourself from laughing too.

“You lost, I’m so sorry,” he patted your shoulder, using his grip to bring you further towards him, kissing the side of your mouth.

“What was the prize?” You questioned, chewing the last bit of crumbs that were left in your mouth as you leaned against him. 

“A private concert,”

“As if you don’t willingly do them, all the time.” he shrugged at your comment, making you smile and remember your game, “Eddie.”

“Yes?”

“Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” 

“Tell me a secret,”

“Ok, I hate peas.”

“No,” you giggled, “tell me something real, something no one else knows,” you grabbed a twizzler, pointing to him with it once you had taken a good bite out of it.

“Ok,” he smirked, a mischievous glint passing by his gaze. The grip on your waist became tighter and he leaned even closer to you, tucking a strand of your hair behind your ear with his free hand before kissing your cheek. “You’re sweet,” he pressed a new kiss to your other cheek “and sexy,” a new kiss to your lips, “and completely hot for me,” you gasped a laugh.

“You are amazingly self assured, as anyone else told you that?”

“I tell myself that every day, actually,” he chuckled before locking your lips into a new kiss, and suddenly an invisible sting pulled him back to the reality of the pact he had made with your brother. “Come to the dance with me tomorrow.”

“Is that a request or a command?” You attempted to joke, but he continued.

“Come on, go with me.”

“No.”

“Why not?” He breathed out a sigh, toying with your fingers.

“I told you already, it’s a stupid tradition.”

“C’mon, people won’t expect you to go.”

“Eddie, why are you pushing this? What’s in it for you?” Maybe you wouldn’t have asked, but Barb’s words suddenly came bouncing into your mind, like an unstoppable bouncy ball hitting the walls of your brain and shuddering through your spine. 

“Nothing, just the pleasure of your company.”

You paused at his words. Mind twirling in the multitude of possibilities. Eddie had been pushing this, but maybe that was just his attempt at trying to be a normal high school couple. 

Would Eddie really want this? Would Eddie really enjoy a gathering full of sweaty hormonal teenagers, with no alcohol, weed or anything else you could think of that he’d use for a good time, all that mixed with awful music? You couldn’t be sure, and you were getting anxious about an ulterior motive.

Barb had made it clear she didn’t trust Eddie, and your heart pinched at the thought. 

You sighed, eyes dancing across the setting sun as it reached further down the sky, casting yet a new glow of colors across the trailer park. 

Your grip on Eddie’s shoulder tightened; “It’s getting late,” you hummed, turning your gaze back to Eddie, “I should go.”

“Y/n-”

“No, it’s fine Eddie, don’t worry about it,” you gave him a tight smile. “Thanks for the evening,” you stood from his grip, dusting the crumbs from your jeans before nodding back to him, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

~

The next morning, you opened your locker, just for a bright neon pink paper to slip out of it, flying down just to land on your feet. 

You huffed, gladly stepping on it. It hadn’t even happened yet, and you already had enough of this stupid dance. 

You wanted to throw up, first Will, and now no one seemed to even blink twice about Barbara. Maybe if she had been some popular cheerleader, a Tammy Thompson, or a rising star like Chrissy Cunningham she would have the whole town at her feet trying to find her, caring for her. And a part of you wondered if anyone would even care if you would ever go missing yourself..

"Are they really still throwing Spring Fling when two students are missing?" You gazed at Eddie who was leaning against your neighboring locker, fumbling with his walkman. 

“Is Barb officially missing now?”

“Police thinks she ran away,” you angrily stuffed some books in your locker, Eddie noticing the stress lines forming on your forehead.

“Hey, I’m sorry about yesterday, I should have gotten the hint the first time you told me you didn’t want to go.”

“S’okay,” you hummed, keeping your hands fumbling with the contents of your locker as your gaze stayed focused on its insides. “I’m not mad at you, I’m just- I don’t understand why everyone is acting so calm. Nancy was balling her eyes out on the phone to me last night, assuring me that Barb was gone missing. She went on, telling me her car was still parked not far from mine and saying that she felt a creepy presence in my backyard,” you finally managed to neatly place the books like you wanted, and closed your locker door in a loud, angered thud. 

“Oh,”

“Yeah,” you chewed on your nails and Eddie didn’t know what to say, or what to even do with his own hands. “What if something bad has happened to them? And I mean bad, bad,” you rested your back against your locker. “I can’t imagine what it would do to Dustin, imagine Barb’s parents? I-, I feel desperate in this situation and I feel like I’m one of the only ones to actually care.” 

“We could try and play detective, if you want? I mean, D and D does make you pretty good at piecing things together,” he offered you a short smile and your heart warmed a bit at his words.

“Maybe.”

~

You didn’t understand Nancy. 

As much as you loved her, you couldn’t begin to piece her out. Last night, she was calling you crying about your missing friend, and now she was begging you for a distraction you weren’t willing to give out. 

“Please, please come,” she whined over the phone, and you eyed Steve as he walked across from the kitchen to the living room, giving you his biggest death glare as he did. 

“Nancy, you know my answer,” you groaned–wanting to slam your head onto the wall next to you. “Do you realize that two people are missing, and you’re ready to just forget all of that to go dancing with idiots?”

“Y/n, I think we both need this, we can continue searching tomorrow.”

Was this really the same Nancy you had chatted with the day before?

“You’re in a relationship now, you should understand this!” 

“Understand what exactly?”

“That I want to spend time with my boyfriend. The world is falling apart and I’m stuck home with my thoughts. Wouldn’t you ask the same thing if the roles were reversed? Wouldn’t you beg Steve and I to go to a Ren Fair or I don’t know a Metallica concert if you couldn’t?”

“Spring Fling is far from being a Metallica concert, Nancy,” you chuckled at the idiocy of her comparison.

“But what if Spring Fling is my Metallica concert?”

You fell silent over the line. Were you that selfish? Not letting your friend get that date with your brother and miss out on an event everyone wanted to go to. You sighed, rethinking your life one last time before sighing out; “Okay,” head falling against the wall by the telephone. “I’ll tell Steve to come pick you up.”

“Oh my god I love you!”

“Yeah, yeah, love you too, I’ll see you there,” and with those words you hung up, dread seeping into your bones once again. “Steve! Get fucking ready, you’re taking Nancy to that stupid dance!”

“I’m what now?” 

“You’re taking Nancy to Spring Fling,” his eyes widened, mouth agape.

“Oh my god, I love you,”

“Oh, shut up,” you rolled your eyes, watching Steve scurry away to the upstairs bathroom. You sighed before crossing the kitchen, eyeing for any one of your parents. 

“Hey darling,” as if she knew you had been searching for her, your mom’s soft voice echoed from the laundry room, through the corridor and right to you.

“Right here,” you hummed back, trotting to meet her there.

“Oh perfect,” she smiled, “could you bring this up? Half of this is Steve’s and then the other half is yours.”

“Are you obliging me to walk through the pits of tartarus?”

“If this means, entering your brother’s room to drop off his laundry, yes I am asking you.”

“Fine,” you hummed, grabbing the basket of folded laundry from your mother’s arms. “Also, Steve and I are getting ready to leave, we’re um- going to the spring fling thing.”

“Oh,” her eyes widened. “You’re going?”

“Yeah. Nancy convinced me.”

“Alright,” she let the shock seep through her. “I’ll let your father know.”

“Thanks,” you smiled before scurrying away, jumping up the steps–the quicker you got this done, the quicker you could get ready, and the quicker you were out of the house, the quicker you would be back. 

You dropped everything that was yours on top your bed–not bothering with putting it in your cupboard before waltzing towards Steve’s room. You could hear the stream of the shower, and if you were really careful, you could hear Steve faintly humming a Kate Bush song. You rolled your eyes before opening his door, ready to be met with the utter mess that you remembered his room to be–but to your surprise, it was neat and even smelt nice. 

You blinked in shock, taking in the well done bed, the freshly vacuum carpet and the organized shelves. Even the desk was neat, two pots of pencils stood proudly in the corner, while only a stray eraser felt out of place–sitting next to an opened agenda. His desk lamp illuminating his scruffy writing, creating a halo over the white lined page. 

Once the surprise was seeping in, you blinked; remembering your original mission. You dropped the basket on his bed, sighing before turning back around.

And that’s when you caught the writing across the white paper of Steve’s used notebook.

MONEY SPENT

March 30 - family video $6

April 2 - Maldev’s $2, lunch $5

April 5 - lunch $2

April 11 - Lunch $7, family video $3.

April 12 - Eddie $50

April 14 - Scoops Ahoy $6

April 15 - Eddie $100

The list went on–Eddie becoming a recurrence since ‘April 12’, the money only adding as the days went by. Your heart thumped in your chest–why in the world was Eddie’s name on Steve’s wannabe accountant list, and secondly, where in the world did Steve find this kind of money?

You wondered for a brief instant if Eddie had been dealing to your brother, but then you had only seen Steve high once, and it had been two days ago, at that wretched gathering.

Barb’s warning echoed in your head, and for a mere second you allowed yourself to feel the worst. Was this why Eddie had been bugging you to come to the dance with him?

You refused to make it make sense, but then April 12 had been the day Eddie had first tried to ask you out. 

Your breath suddenly caught in your throat, and you could feel your heart thumping in your ears. No. This couldn’t be happening. You couldn’t be sure of anything yet. 

Nonetheless, you didn’t have time to think about it. You were on the clock with a promise made to your best friend, and strolling out of Steve’s room, you noticed a frown on your face you hadn’t even realized was there.

You let out a shaky sigh as you entered your room, being met with your reflection in the mirror.

You had made Nancy a promise,

You’d have to confront either of the two after the dance.

~

“Eddie, there’s a girl outfront for you.”

“Huh?” He lifted the book from his eyes, dropping it on the coffee table before lazily sitting up, limbs cracking as he did. He looked at Wayne in question, not bothering to fix his pyjama shirt as he walked to the kitchen area and looked through the window.

His eyes weren’t failing him–indeed there you were, the window of your car rolled down and Eddie could see you all dolled up in a pretty dress he’d never bet he would ever see you wear. You looked straight at him through the window and honked, a signal for him to come over.

“What the fuck,” he muttered under his breath as his socked feet walked him to the front door. “Hey, what are you doing here?” Even though shock was seeping through him, he smiled at your sight.

“Get in loser, we’re going to the spring fling,” his mouth was wide, agape like a fish as he registered what was happening. He blinked, and stood there a second too long because you honked your car horn again. “C’mon! We don’t have all night!”

You watched as Eddie blinked again before shaking his head and scurrying back inside. You heard faint mumbling from the trailer and his running around. You even thought you heard a loud noise that was most probably Eddie falling as he tried to get the suit of his pants up. 

His hair was wild once he opened the door of the trailer again, but he was brushing it back with his fingers as he walked down the metallic steps and walked to you.

“Where did you get a tux last minute?” You grinned as he opened the passenger door, his slime had made all anxiety wash away from your body and you felt yourself melt a little further into your car seat, butterflies brushing the side of your stomach at the sight of him in a suit.

“Oh, you know, just something I had, laying around,” he shrugged, pretending to be brushing something off of his shoulder “Where’d you get the dress?”

“Oh you know just something I had, laying around,” that made him laugh, eyes intently scanning your figure as you started driving away.

“What made you change your mind?”

“Nancy wouldn’t stop bugging me about it, thought I’d take a break from being a heinous bitch, for a change,” you smiled, and your mind brought you back to the writing in Steve’s notebook an unsettling feeling tugging at your heartstrings as your gaze went back to the boy next to you. 

“Respectable,” he grinned, already opening your glove box for a cassette–fishing out a Black Sabbath mixtape he had made for you.

And for a golden second, as you watched him grin like an idiot over the cassette he had so carefully designed–your worries washed away.

Eddie had been so caring. He had come into your life, bulldozing everything you had trapped yourself in. He brought a new breath to your lungs and you felt yourself again, you felt whole again.

And maybe, just maybe you could let yourself believe that Eddie’s name on Steve’s notebook was something entirely different.

~

Spring fling was everything you had expected it to be. 

Bright colored balloons floating across the air, handwritten banners hanging from every corner, large tables with various beverages and food laying across it. Music was bursting out of large speakers lodged at every corner of the room–and not to mention almost the entirety of Hawkins High. 

Toto’s Hold The Line was ringing in your ears, and you felt your hand grip Eddie’s a little tighter as you walked past a group of cheerleaders, all giggling at something Cameron Ness had said. The star jock was wearing his best suit, a blue ruffled jacket that made all the girls cling to him like moths to a flame. Each of them were in close competition with your brother at the amount of hairspray they had, hairstyles more and more elaborate the more you stared. 

You did not feel in your place at all. 

It all felt intoxicating.

You spotted your brother, long gone into a conversation with some brunette jock named Jeremy. You looked at Nancy–she seemed so happy for once; a bright smile plastered on her face as she leaned against Steve’s navy vest. 

And maybe, just maybe the thought of your best friend getting to have a good time made it less hard to stand the suffocating gym.

“Wanna dance?” Eddie turned to you, a smile on the corner of lips, “while the music is still somewhat tolerable.” Eddie lifted his hand, silently asking for yours.

“Yes,” you slotted your hand in his–butterflies brushing the sides of your stomach as you marched towards the dance floor.

Maybe the evening wouldn’t be so bad.

~

“Eddie?”

“Yeah?” 

“Can you hold my drink, I need to go to the bathroom,” you smiled as Eddie was already offering his hand.

“Of course.” 

Eddie’s gaze traveled around the room, and an unsettling feeling crossed his stomach when his gaze met your brother’s. He was at a different spot this time, chatting with Nancy over a cup of punch.

This was it. 

This had to be his chance. 

He didn’t think twice before crossing the room, fingers brushing through his hair before speaking; “Hey, Harrington.”

“My man!” Steve cheered, and wrapped an arm around him. Eddie awkwardly nodded towards Nancy who had handed him a tight smile upon his arrival.

“Can we talk?”

“Sure,” Steve nodded and asked Nancy if she could hold his drink–to which she accepted and nodded them away.

Eddie noticed Steve was maybe more than a little tipsy as he walked beside Eddie, mumbling jokes and saying hi to everyone who crossed their way. He thought this would be a never ending nightmare, and it would probably be hours before he reached a quiet spot. And after torechous minutes of Steve greeting everyone who met his eyes as he was dragged through the mass of students, they finally reached the quiet corner next to the bleachers.

“So-”

"The deal is off."

“What?” Steve suddenly felt himself sober up. “Why?”

“Because I can’t continue like this.”

“But why? I thought you needed the money-”

“This isn’t about the money, Steve,” the name felt bitter in his mouth–maybe because he blamed him for his suffering, or maybe Eddie blamed himself–but right this minute the lines blurred in his mind and he felt his stomach bubble with a new kind of anger. “This is about your sister, it’s killing me to be doing this to her.”

“Why would you care?” Steve snorted, and Eddie almost took a step back at the cruelty he was witnessing first hand.

Did Steve really care so little about you? 

“Because I’m falling in love with her,” the words tumbled out of Eddie’s mouth faster than he could think, and he had to bite his lip once he realized his confession.

Steve’s mouth fell open wide, the room starting to spin—and this time it wasn’t the snuck in vodka that made him feel this way; but the way his plan was biting him back. 

“No, no, no. You can't be in love with her,” he felt the words leave faster than intended, his own interests getting the best of him. 

“Who are you to tell me what to feel or not feel, Harrington.” 

Steve blinked–stunned, “no, you’re right. But you can’t be falling for her! I never said you could actually date her, you’re going to be a bad influence!” 

“Excuse me? Says the guy who hand picked me.”

“Because you were the only one good for the job!”

“Exactly, and that’s why I’m putting an end to the whole thing.”

“She’s smarter than you give her credit for, you know? She’s going to figure it out soon enough, and it’s going to go all to shits. She might hate us both in all cases, but I’d rather her learn about this fiasco the right way.”  

“No-no, you can’t tell her anything! What about me? What about Nancy?” 

“Are you fucking serious right now?” 

“Look, I’ll pay you double, we continue the deal like it was, you continue to date her, and we can just forget this whole conversation happened, okay?”

“Did you not hear a word I just said?”

~

You sighed, fixing a strand of your hair as you looked at yourself in the mirror—smacking your lips together to spread the gloss you had just reapplied. 

You pushed the heavy bathroom door, sighing once it closed behind you–the school hallway staring back at you. You could faintly hear music playing from behind the closed doors, but murmurs from a nearby corridor caught your attention. 

“Did you hear?” Mr. Arnold fiddled with his hat, twisting the material between his fingers. 

“Hear what?” You recognised Mrs. Gilbert–the drama teacher, she was fixing the sleeve of her sparkling dress before a content smile appeared on her lips.

“They found him,” now they had your full attention. Head spiking up like a cat, and breath catching in your throat.

“The Byers boy?” She whispered, the smile getting whipped off her features. 

“Yes,” Mr. Arnold had a grim look in his eyes as he stared down at his shoes. “They found his body at Sattler Quarry about an hour ago… Poor kid drowned himself.” 

Your shoulders tensed and you felt your ears ring

No.

No, no, no, no, this couldn’t be happening.

Will, the shy boy you babysitted a few times. 

Will, the quiet one with a mind of gold and an ever growing imagination. The one who came up with creatures, monsters and wizards D and D magazines and Eddie’s campaigns could only be envious about.

Your body hit the back of the lockers, and you could only hope that Mrs. Gilbert and Mr. Arnold didn’t hear the thud that accompanied the movement. Head spinning and heart unstoppably racing as you tried to tame the buzz in your head. You couldn’t hear anything, an uncontrollable numbness hitting you as your fist clenched the material of your dress. 

Why?

Why had a boy full of life like Will had to meet his end in such a way?

What about Dustin? Did he already know? 

Your heart only shattered into more pieces as you thought of him. 

You had to tell Eddie.

You walked back into the gym, the air feeling stuffy again and the music barely hitting your numbbed ears. Seeing everyone so full of life made you sick to your stomach. All these people who didn’t even care that he had gone missing, and now they would wake up tomorrow morning with the news of his death, and move on with the rest of their lives as if nothing happened.

It didn’t take you long to find Eddie in the crowd. He was a few meters away from the door, in a corner talking to—your brother? 

He had a large frown on his features, and your brother was waving his hands around frantically like he did when he got frustrated. You watched as Eddie groaned, a hand flying up to his hair as he tried to reason whatever argument your brother had thrown. 

You moved faster than your mind registered, feet gliding over the polished ground of the gymnasium. Something in you wanted to save Eddie from presumingly a horrid conversation with the gremlin that you were cruelly related to. 

You were about to go through the last small group of people, you could clearly see them from your spot in between the dancing bodies—and Steve’s voice became clearer over the fading music.

“No-no you can’t tell her anything! What about me? What about Nancy?”  

What the fuck was that suppose to mean? 

“Are you fucking serious right now?”

“Look, I’ll pay you double, we continue the deal like it was, you continue to date her, and we can just forget this whole conversation happened, okay?”

You stopped in your tracks.

Steve’s writing suddenly became clear,

your worst assumptions were true.

Eddie was paid to date you,

And had been since the start. 

[thegnomelord]

for the prompt game, if it's still open, maybe 8 with Ghost? maybe with hatefucking and at the point you're both at it's basically a routine but all of the nasty words and cruel moments are really just because you're both brutes that have trouble expressing emotions properly, and all you really want is just some kind of deeper connection with each other, but with your shitty use of words, arguing and eventual growling into into his mouth as you shove him down onto the nearest flat surface is the only way for you to get that. and perhaapps at one point, one of you, reader or ghost doesn't matter, let's something softer and more caring slip through the angry facade? ofc if you already have one for 8 or you just don't like this idea you can im really sorry and you can ignore me, no pressure and I love all your writing :')) <3

Okay anon holy shit this is GOOD! You should think of writing yourself like what I'm seeing in this prompt is good shit :D Play the game HERE

Prompt: "If this is a joke it isn't funny."

CW: NSFW, Sub Bot Ghost, Dom Top MReader, hatefucking, degradation, confessions, soft sex,

It always starts the same; Simon's roughly patting your shoulder and telling you to not cock it up, your equally harsh response for him to keep up with you, rough voices hiding the unsaid 'be careful's. Insults like 'dumbass', 'moron', 'dead weight' crackling over the radio when the other's pinned down by fire, the electric static and suppression fire muting the worry in your voice, the hint of care in Simon's tone.

And it always ends the same; harsh stares across the room while you debrief Price, casualty numbers turning into critiques of the other— you should have noticed the terrorist, Simon should have kept the sniper in mind — prickling barbs and venomed words turning into shoves and punches, leaving bruises on each other's skin instead of the kisses you want to lay down.

Soap loves comparing you to dogs, and that's what you are— animals; talking would kill you both so you end up expressing yourselves through teeth and claws. There's blood on your tongue as you push Simon onto the bed and he pulls you down with his teeth digging into your bottom lip, rough fingers pulling away clothes only to push into bruised flesh, drawing hisses and growls.

'I want you' Ghost wants to say, instead "Stop being a pussy," comes out, blunt nails dragging deep scratches down your back. 'I'm happy you're alive' "You fuck as bad as you fight." Simon tastes blood as he kisses you, both of you struggling to pin the other to the bed.

"Shut up." 'I missed you' you snarl and pin him on his front, trapping his massive arms behind his back so he has no support, his head pushed into the pillows and arse high in the air, your thigh parting his legs. You huff a laugh when you see his cock already hard, hanging uselessly between his thighs. "Slag, good for nothing but taking it up the ass." 'I care for you'.

'You're important to me' Simon swallows the blood and spit in his mouth, jerking in a half-hearted attempt to free himself. "'least ah have a use," he growls, chest stuttering for breath as you bear down even more weight on him. You push your fingers into his mouth to wet them and Simon bites down, loving you with his teeth first, the sting of pain binding you together.

"Yeah, as a cocksleeve." 'I'm sorry' You don't give him a warning, just pull your fingers from his mouth and push into his ass. It's only enough lube to not tear him, but the stretch hurts, burns, and Simon both loves and hates how this roughness makes his cock hard and heart flutter.

"That-hah-" Ghost pants into the sheets, eyes prickling with tears with how he tries to keep them open, body forced to submit to you as your fingers stretch him, fuck him, tenderly brushing against his prostate before pushing to the last knuckle, pain and pleasure burning up his spine. "-that's not true."

Pulling out your fingers you give him a sharp slap on his ass, "Sure is," You use what saliva you have on your hand to wet your cock, swirling the drool in your mouth before you spitting right on his hole for extra wetness, your sudden action making his spasming hole clench and relax reflexively. "Look at how you're clenching." You mount him, pushing your weight down on him until he can barely breathe, cock bobbing against his hole. "Acting like such a bitch!"

You ram in him to put emphasis on the word and Simon bites his tongue so hard it bleeds, resisting letting any noises out. He's never vocal in bed, no matter how hard you fuck him, how many bruises your hips leave on his ass or how many hickeys you lay on his throat, how often your balls slap against his, he never utters more than a low groan.

But he wants to; good god Simon wants to tell you how good you feel, how every brush of your cockhead against his prostate has him seeing stars, how much he loves feeling you pound into him, who bodies bound into one by such a primal connection. . . but he can't, his mouth clamps up when he tries and even if he manages to spit something out it just comes out as venom, earning him firm slaps on his ass and your weight bearing further down on him.

You spill into him, pinning him so hard beneath your weight he can barely breathe, only remembering to rub him into an orgasm when your balls are good and empty, cock plugging his hole full of your cum. Your hands are harsh, his panting ringing in your ears until his cock twitches and he cums onto the sheets beneath him, whole body shaking to hold his moans in.

You collapse onto him, just enough sense in your head to roll you two onto your sides so he isn't laying in his spend or suffocating beneath you. Uncomfortable silence rings in your ears as you pant, bile churning in your stomach; This is your usual, soon enough Simon will tell you to shove off, he'll get up, take a piss, and leave.

And this song and dance will repeat until one of you dies.

Even without sight you feel Simon open his mouth, vestiges of harsh words burning on his tongue. Maybe it's post-orgasmic bliss that makes you speak, "Hey," Your hands tighten around his middle, "Stay the night." You curl around him like a lover; something you know you're not.

He shuts his mouth so quickly you hear the 'click' of his teeth, whole body freezing because this is as new for him as it is for you. "If this is a joke," He growls, turns his head just enough for you to catch his glare. "It's not funny."

Your tongue burns with the usual words— 'Only joke here is you' — but you don't, instead a slow and low "I'm not kidding." escapes you, like something forbidden, something to keep secret lest you get divine punishment.

Simon's mind buffers like an old computer, too many thoughts stuffing his head that he can't understand a single one. This is too far removed from the usual, hummingbirds knocking on his skull as a warning. But his body relaxes while he's still thinking, a stagnant breath escaping his lungs. "Fine."

You think of saying something, but it's better not to. Instead you huddle closer to him, still connected in a carnal way but now it feels so much more. . . intimate. Your hands wander over his toros, a gentle exploration instead of a race for release, your fingers carding through his body hair down his happy trail and up again.

Simon's head tils back to give you access to his neck, your lips soft against his skin as you kiss the bruises you'd left, both of your bodies slowly moving to close the small space between you two, urged to share your warmth.

You shift your hips, only realizing you're hard again when Simon moans. Moans. "Sorry," You duck your head, hands gripping his hips to pull out but he stops you, a rough sound in his throat.

"No," Simon doesn't look at you though the blush across his face is easy to spot. "Keep going," Tilting his hips back into yours tears a moan from both of you. Your cum eases the slide in, his walls stretched and pliant, wetly sucking you in like a needy thing.

Another time you'd have laughed at how desperate he's acting, but the low moans and a little "Fuck, just like that," you earn by rolling your hips has your mind shutting off. You can't believe how vocal he's suddenly become, getting louder the slower and gentler you move your hips, your cock slowly pushing in and out of his hole.

You bury your head in his neck and blindly stroke his leaking cock, kissing the skin under your lips, your eyes closed shut as you thrust into him slowly, your tender and slow movements pulling moan after moan out of him. His hand winds back to cup the back of your neck, pulling you up just enough to give you an awkward kiss but it's sweet and raw and so desperate—

You don't notice he's cumming until his walls clamp down on you, Simon whispering "I love you," so soft and quiet under his breath that you don't hear him, too busy filling him up a second time, but your mind buzzes with warmth all the same.

You lay as you were, somehow so exhausted that even moving an inch is anathema to you. Both of you, it seems, if the way Simon's back is warm and pliant against your chest, his breathing slow and steady. Tomorrow you'll need to talk (or do your best substitution of it), but for tonight, you can hug him close and finally have an answer to what it would feel like to have him close without the sex, to just be with him. . .

[baby-yongbok]

Meltdown

Boyfriend!Bang Chan x Autistic!Fem!Reader

❗Genre: Angst

❗Warnings: Heavy themes of autistic meltdown, Very detailed explanation of a meltdown, Heavy themes of Anxiety?, self-harm (no blood), Mentions of not being able to breathe, Chris is an asshole but not for long. Again, this is very detailed. + Bang Chan is referred to as Chris.

❗A/N: I'm very nervous to post this, but I want to put out content for neurodivergent community. As an autistic individual, I rarely see content with an autistic reader. It may exist, but I've never really come across it. So, here I am. This work is purely based on my experience with autism and is based on my own meltdowns. This is not meant to reflect how every person with autism has meltdowns. I hope that you enjoy!

✨️Masterlist✨️

“You always do this, you always do the same shit and then try to play it off as an accident. How many times are you going to make the same mistake?” Chris yelled in your direction, putting air quotes around the last word of his sentence. You let out a shaky breath, trying your best to keep yourself stable.

“It is a mistake and I thought that I was doing a good job at avoiding it, I don’t perceive any of my behavior tonight as suggestive. I thought that I was being friendly.” Your speech is steady and smooth, a calculated response designed in your head to avoid conflict. That was your goal, avoiding conflict, but it seems that Chris’ temper has other plans tonight.

“Friendly? Are you fucking kidding me? You were practically saying your vows with all the compliments you were dishing out tonight. Laughing at every single word that your so-called friend said. I’m surprised you weren’t sitting in his fucking lap with the way your conversation was going.” Your eyes dart around the room before landing on the bright numbers of the digital clock to your right. You focus your eyes on the bright outline, trying your best to keep yourself calm.

“Chris, I really didn’t mean -” You’re cut off by his yelling, the sudden sound making you jump a bit, shifting your focus. 

“I don’t want to hear that fucking excuse. You didn’t mean it? Yeah, sure, you always say that. And why the fuck do you let him call you all of those names? Honey, sweetheart, and anything else that slips off of his tongue, right?” He moves from his spot across from you, circling the couch and stalking towards where you're sitting quickly, only stopping when there’s about a foot between you. “Are you fucking him or something? Do the two of you have history? Because I can’t think of another reason for you to be so goddamn disrespectful.”

“Wha- no, I- I never did anything with him.” Your eyes dart up to his face but your gaze quickly falls, you blink a couple of times trying your best to hold back your tears. “I thought.. I thought I was being friendly I was watching -” 

“Why are you trying to play innocent?” He squats down in front of you, his piercing gaze trying to find yours. Tears start to run down your cheeks and you start to rock your body back and forth. You wipe your tears away with open hands before starting to pick at your nails. “Look at me. If you’re not lying then look at me.”

“Chris I- I can’t right now. I’m r-really overwhelmed, I’m sorry.” He sucks his teeth at you, leaning closer into your space. “Please.. Back up.”

“Look at me.” He hisses and you can feel the tingling in your hands and feet starting as your thoughts start to spiral out of control. “Do you really think that you were just being friendly? Tell me, I’m fucking listening.”

His tone picks up towards the completion of his sentence, ending in a shout. You jump again, crossing your arms over your chest in an attempt to comfort yourself. The thoughts in your head get louder as the seconds go by and you start to lose the ability to understand them. Every time that you try to pin point one of them it gets pulled away from you. You start to bounce your leg, fast and harsh. The bouncing of your leg paired with the rocking of your upper body seemed to have caught Chris’ attention. The real Chris, not the one that was standing in front of you seconds ago allowing his jealousy to spiral out of control in a fit of anger.

“Hey..hey” He lowers himself onto his knees, his eyes that were angry seconds ago now glazed with worry. “I’m.. I’m sorry I lost it, I know I shouldn’t have, I just..”

He reaches his hand out to touch you, a soft attempt at comforting you but it was the last thing that he should’ve done. You jump at the contact, a small whine falling from your lips. He moves his hand quickly, muttering a small apology. You bring your hands up to cover your ears, attempting to shut out the heavy buzzing of your thoughts. You start to rock your body quicker as you lean forward, shrinking into yourself. 

“Fuck.” Chris hisses under his breath, his hands helplessly resting on his lap. He knows that you didn’t mean it, he knows that you have trouble interacting with your friends due to your autism. And he knew better than anyone what could happen when you got overwhelmed. He could usually see it coming and nurse you back to a more stable headspace but this time he couldn’t. This time it was him that caused the meltdown, the fault was at his feet and there was nothing he could do to fix it. All he could do was wait and watch as you went through the motions. 

It was the screaming that pulled him out of his thoughts. The piercing sound of you wailing, the verbal expression of the pain you felt as you tried your best to understand what was happening in your head. His eyes fixed on you immediately, he took you in slowly, maybe too slow. Your hands were laced in your hair pulling harshly at the roots as you sobbed, you were mumbling something through your sobbing. At first he couldn’t understand but eventually he caught on and his heart shattered in his chest as he reached for your hands in an attempt to loosen your grip on your hair. 

“Stop making mistakes, stop making mistakes, stop making mistakes.” You mumbled as your tears fell. Your grip on your hair tightened just as Chris made contact with you, he tried desperately to gently pry your fingers from your curls. 

“Baby, you can’t do that.” He nearly whispered, his voice was easily drowned out by your screams as you tried to get as far away from his touch as possible. “Baby, please.”

“Stop making mistakes, Stop making mistakes.” Once Chris was able to loosen your grip you balled your hands into fists. Your body tensed and your breath caught in your chest. Chris watched you with wide eyes, he slowly tried to move a bit closer to you, preparing himself to stop you from hurting yourself if needed. 

“You have to breathe.” The panic in his tone was evident, you could hear it but you couldn’t react. There was too much going on, too much to process. “ Babygirl, please please breathe.” 

You bang your fists against your thighs, trying to get your brain to slow down, trying to coordinate breathing with thinking, moving, anything. Why couldn’t you breathe? Why couldn’t you just stop holding your breath? Why? The more you thought about it the more frustrated you got. You could feel a burning in your chest as you looked up at Chris, eyes wide with panic. 

“Babygirl, look, follow me. Do what I do, yeah?” His voice is soft yet strong as he tries to mollify the panic rising in his chest. He attempts to instruct you, using his hands to guide you into making your chest rise and fall as it should. You watch his hands, trying to concentrate, Trying to ignore the ringing in your ears and the harsh buzzing of your thoughts. The longer you focus on the movements of his hand the more that you can feel your chest start to move. You take in a sudden breath, gasping a bit and choking for a second. You follow with another quick breath, gasping again and the pattern continues until the burning subsides and an intense dizziness hits you. 

“You did it, you did so well, baby.” Chris whispers, his eyes wide and glossy. “You got it.”

Your body starts to relax a bit as you work to regulate your breathing. You slowly unclench your fist, resting your hands in your lap and scratching at the fabric of your jeans. Your movements start to slow and you sit up straight gradually, every move hurts a bit, the aching in your muscles already starting to set in. Your crying continues as you pant softly, you mumble the same statement to yourself a couple of times before you direct your words towards Chris.

“I’m s-sorry. I thought I-I was doing it right I t-thought…” Your sentence trails off into a pained sob as you bring your hands up to cover your eyes. The guilt of your reaction came flooding through instantly. First you make your boyfriend mad and then you have a fucking meltdown about it? You just can’t win, huh.

“Please don’t apologize, I should be the one apologizing. I should be begging for forgiveness right now. I had no right to get that angry, I was jealous and it was stupid. I was insecure, I’ve been insecure about you hanging out with him for months and I let all of that pent up emotion out and I hurt you. I’m so so sorry, I understand if you don’t forgive me, I wouldn’t either. I know that you struggle and I still fucked everything up.” He moved a bit closer to you, a mere inch separating the two of you. 

You shook your head acknowledging that you could hear him. Your brain was slowing down just a bit and you didn’t want to add anything to the whirlwind to disrupt it. 

“I’ll get your meltdown kit, and I’ll pick out your safe clothes. You need to take a hot shower to try and soothe your muscles… you’re going to be sore in the morning, okay?” You shake your head, glancing up at Chris for just a second before you close your eyes and take a deep breath. Your chest feels tight but you try not to let it bother you. The aftermath of a meltdown was something that you’ve grown used to after all. 

“Please believe me when I say that none of this was your fault. I’m so so fucking sorry, this will never happen again…ever.” He nearly whispers the last word before he stands from his position in front of you, rushing off to get your meltdown kit equipped with sensory aids of all types along with a pair of noise canceling headphones and a pair of tinted glasses in case the light is too much for you to take in. 

You keep your eyes closed as you wait for him to return, the pitter patter of his feet across the hardwood is louder than usual as he makes his way back over to you. He leaves you with the kit before rushing to start your shower and pick out your clothes. You always tell him that after you have a meltdown you just want to be left alone, you need space to come down completely. He watches from afar as you put on the headphones and open your favorite calming candle to smell. He makes sure to stay just far enough for you to have your space but close enough to be there if you need him. Once you go to the bathroom for your shower he sits outside of the door, listening for any signs of a follow up meltdown. He takes a deep breath and before he can stop it a tear falls, trailing down his cheek and leaving a path for the rest to follow. He squeezes his eyes shut as it all replays in his head. He yelled at you, he caused your meltdown, you could’ve passed out or ended up more hurt than you already are. God forbid you had a shutdown, he’d never be able to live with himself if he caused that but he could honestly barely stand himself now. He took out his phone, typing a text to Minho, hoping for someone to help calm him down before he sees you again. He’ll only allow himself to fall apart behind the scenes, he doesn’t want to add to your distress any more than he already has. A couple seconds go by after he’s sent the text before his phone is vibrating in his hands. He swipes the green button and brings his phone up to his ear. He takes in a shaky breath before he lets the words leave his lips.

“I fucked up…”

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: 😳. Iiiii ... Ok. So I'm never this creative to think of such things like ... oh, idk. Kafka likes to roleplay with his girl - kinda fucked up things. Like, being a little rough in bed. Both ways - roughing and being roughed up. Idk. I just totally see him being the best fucking husbando/boyfriendo ever. Sorry Draken, Chifuyu, Mitsuya, oh god, and Baji. ANYWAY. Yeah. This Kafka stuff just keeps oozing from my fingers and I'm in no hurry to stop. I hope you guys enjoy this!

C/W ::: Roleplay (on the rougher side - not violent, per se - but not like petting a kitten either ... no pun intended), unprotected P->V, hands-on stuff, a little tossing of the other person around but like I said, I don't think it's like, too too rough. You've read this far, heed the warning if you think this won't be for you =). That's why we put them here!

WC ::: Under 1,200 (I'm coming back around, you guys!!)

MDNI UNDER THE CUT PLEASE, THANK YOU.

You bite your bottom lip as Kafka growls against your skin. His words and his tone are harsh, but his touch … it’s painfully soft. The slight pressure of his mouth, the rasp of his tongue against the sensitive skin of your neck. It makes your stomach flutter, and your eyes roll back.

He breathes heavily against you as he moves his mouth lower, to your shoulder, then down, across your collarbone and back up again.

"You're sending me really, really mixed signals here, Kafka. You're mouth is literally saying one thing while your body does another."

"You don't say," he says.

"I do say."

He huffs and lifts his head to look you in the eyes, his own dark, pupils blown wide. "What do you want me to say?" he says, his voice low, rough. "That I like you?

"I mean, yeah. That would be nice. But maybe a little consistency first?"

"I like you," he says, "But I also hate you. So I don't know. What should I do?"

You try to shimmy away from him but his grip just tightens and there's no way you can get out of his arms.

He leans in, his breath tickling your ear and you shiver. "Do you want me to let you go?" he whispers.

"What I want is ..." You sigh, "What I want," you say slowly, "Is for you to get over yourself." You take a deep breath. "I know that you want me, at the very least. Why are you being so gentle and rough with me at the same time?"

He huffs. "It's complicated," he says. "I like you. I do. And .... But ..."

"But what?" You ask.

"But nothing. It's not important."

He looks down again at your body pressed into the mattress. His hands sliding down your shoulders to your elbows.

You try to wiggle your wrist free from his large hand. You want to grab him by the chin and make him look you in the eye, but he still has an unreasonably tight grip on you.

He glances at you through his lashes, his mouth curled into a devious smirk. "You want something, little one?"

You shout, "That's it! That's it! I've had enough of your patronizing. You're gonna get it now, Kafka."

You can feel your temperature rise and your willpower falter. Mustering every tiny little ounce of strength you have in your much smaller body you flip him over so he's on his back. Though you have a feeling that he went willingly. You don't care though. You're just happy that the tables have turned - in your favor, too.

For now, anyway.

You squat over him on the bed and straddle his torso, placing your knees on either side of his ears, careful not to put too much pressure on his chest.

He laughs at you and asks why you're not putting your full weight down on him. "You think you're gonna hurt me, you little fly."

You see him smile at you, a sharp-toothed grin. "Come on," he says, "You're not going to hurt me. I want you to give it your best shot, though. G'head."

You lean forward, putting your full weight on him and he laughs. "Oh-hoh, now you've done it," he says. "You should not have done that."

The laughter stops and his eyes narrow as you press your hand to his cheek, running your thumb across his bottom lip. He leans forward, trying to bite at your fingers and you pull your hand away, making him growl again. This time in frustration, you’re sure of it. 

You place your hand on his throat, pushing him back down onto the bed.

"Enough," you say, your voice low, barely more than a whisper. "It's time to stop playing around."

His eyes widen as you lean in, pressing your mouth against his. He stiffens at first, but then relaxes, his mouth opening under yours.

His tongue brushes against your lips, and you open for him, your own tongue meeting his.

You can taste the sweetness of his mouth, and the taste makes you hungry for more. You press closer, your teeth clicking together as you try to deepen the kiss.

Kafka wraps his arms around you, pulling you closer as you continue to kiss. You feel his cock harden against your thigh and you moan.

You press your hips down, rubbing against him, his cock sliding against your pussy through the thin black lace of your underwear.

You break the kiss, panting, your body is on fire.

Kafka groans as you begin to rock your hips, grinding your pussy harder yet against his cock.

"Fuck," he whispers, his eyes glazed over, his lips swollen from your kiss.

You reach between you, grabbing his cock, squeezing it tightly as you stroke it, your hand sliding up and down his shaft.

"Do you want me?" you ask, leaning in, your lips brushing against his.

"Yes," he says, his voice rough, his breathing ragged. "Fuck yes."

"Then," you say, kissing him deeply. "take me, Kafka."

An animalistic sound escapes his throat as he flips you over onto your back, his body pressing you down into the bed.

You moan as he pushes his cock inside you, stretching you open. He fills you completely, his cock buried to the hilt in your pussy.

He begins to move, his thrusts slow and steady as he fucks you, his cock sliding in and out of you. Your walls squeeze him tightly.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer as you rock your hips, meeting his offerings.

You look up at him, face flushed.

He looks down at you, his expressions are intense, but he never shifts his focus. His movements become harder, faster. Almost desperate in his attempt to navigate this fare.

You gasp as you feel him hit just the right spot, making your vision blur. You dig your nails into his back, clinging to him as your orgasm hits you like a surprise wave. Despite knowing full well what the outcome of this would be, the result never ceases to amaze you.

He never ceases to amaze you.

Kafka groans, his thrusts becoming erratic. As he fucks you through your orgasm, he approaches his own.

He slams his cock into you one last time, his body going rigid as he begins to cum, his cock pulsing heavily as he fills you with all he's got.

You cling to him, your bodies pressed together, your heart racing as you both come down from the almost violent release of energy.

Kafka rests his forehead against yours, his breathing ragged.

"You are amazing," he whispers. "Absolutely … fucking ... amazing."

You smile and kiss him softly, your fingers stroking his cheek. "I almost believed you for a minute there, Kaf. Your growly voice is super sexy, but my god. I thought you were a little pissed for a second. Let's do this again. Soon, mm?"

You lift his chin to take stock of his face and you know you'll never tire of seeing his kind eyes looking back at you. "Hey, I love you, you know."

You can't see it, but you're pretty sure he's blushing. The heat radiating from his face against your shoulder washed up like a sunrise; It was slow, but you felt every little prickle of warmth overtake everything it touched.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, his lips brushing against your skin.

"I love you too," he whispers. "You know I do. You know I'll never stop, yeah?"

You smile and close your eyes, letting the near total darkness of the room wrap you both up in a blanket of promises.

@southside-otaku @kazutora-kurokawa @katkusuo

@supersecretsaga @trevengersprincess @reiners-milkbiddies

@arlerts-angel @darkstarlight82 @bakubunny

[bedoballoons]

hii !! i was wondering if you could do a request for me. so xiao's really stressed and reader character: xiao scenario: calls him multiple times but he doesnt come, so when he actually comes, he complains and makes the reader cry and leave him. genre: angst (if you can, can you add fluff in the end where xiao apologizes? its fine if you dont !!) i was craving for some angst and at the end some fluff because i need more fluff i swear im going insane because of angst its fine if you dont do this, but if you do, i would really appreciate it !!

Of course I can write a request for you!! I won't lie though...I thought this was a smut request at first 😭 forgive my dirty mind. Anyway, thank you for your request and I hope you enjoy!

─⊰⁠⊹ฺ❄️𝔾𝕖𝕟𝕤𝕙𝕚𝕟 ℍ𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤⊰⁠⊹ฺ❄️

Xiao X Reader

{༻~You didn't show up...~༺}

CW: GN! Reader! Angst to fluff, some yelling and a worried reader, apologies at the end!

𑁍༄Xiao:

You sighed anxiously, looking at the clock...you'd already called three times and Xiao was still no where to be seen. You knew he was probably busy, but he'd always said he'd answer your call...just say his name and he'd appear...so why wasn't he? You tried not to think the worst...but considering he was the last remaining Yaksha, the rest all dying in such horrible ways...it wasn't hard to start worrying about him.

What if his karmic debt had caught up to him? What if he'd met a foe even he couldn't beat? What if he'd been injured badly...and couldn't make it to you?

You bit your lip, feeling your heart start to race with fear, what would you even do? Go to Zhongli? The other adeptus?? Panick began to set in, his name slipping from your lips over and over, "Xiaooo! Xiao!" He had to answer, if he didn't you'd have to go find someone and ask for help...that was the plan, "Xia-"

You paused mid sentence as he suddenly appeared in front of you, the soft teal glow of his powers fading away to reveal that he was okay and in truth, it was like seeing a angel, relief washing over you in waves. "Oh my gosh, there you are I was so worried, I thought youd-"

"Enough. Stop calling me, you aren't in danger, there's no one attacking you and I'm tired of hearing your insistent voice in my head. I'm trying to protect Liyue as I'm supposed to, accomplish what I must everyday and I don't need you bothering me while I do so." He shot you a glare...and watched as the emotions painted on your features went dark, your relieved smile wiped away. He knew it was harsh, he knew what he said was wrong...he loved your voice, he loved knowing he had someone at home...hoping he was okay...worrying about him. Hed, just gotten a little too stressed.

"I-im sorry...I was worried something had happened to you...I'm sorry." You felt your chest getting tighter as you tried to hold back your tears, but they fell anyway...rolling down your cheeks as Xiao watched you...guilt already bubbling in his stomach. "Wait...I didn't mean to-"

You stepped away from him, wishing you hadn't been such a nuisance...and before you knew it, you were running, out the door...across the fields. Running until you felt tired...and alone enough to cry in peace, or so you thought. Somehow you'd forgotten he could simply appear next to you, you could run as far as you'd like and he'd be there in seconds...even when you didn't want him to.

"Xiao, I'm sor-"

"Don't apologize when you have nothing to apologize for. You were just worried and I overreacted...I should never have raised my voice at you, talked to you the way that I did. I'm sorry. It will never happen again."

ଘ(੭*ˊᵕˋ)੭* ੈ♡‧₊˚~Have a nice day!~*⁠.⁠✧

[darkroomkisses]

Could you do an extremely possessive Ethan Landry 🙏🙏

You belong to Me (Dark!Ethan Landry x Reader)

A/N: Omg thanks for the request! yes, love the idea. I hope you enjoy this lil blurb 🥀 !READ TAGS!

Pairings: Dark!Ethan Landry x Reader

Warnings: NON-CON to DUB-CON, Boyfriend!Ethan, Dark!Ethan, Possessive!Ethan, SMUT, Dark themes, possessiveness, manhandling, Jealous!Ethan, Unprotected P in V, choking, swearing, creampie, toxic relationship, unhealthy behaviors, slut-shaming. Overall toxic.

Summary: Possessive!Ethan Landry, doesn't take it lightly when another man touches you at a party. He makes sure you remember you belong to him.

Words: 1.8k

“No, you’re not wearing that out” Ethan says firmly with his arms crossed against his chest. You were looking for an outfit for the frat party tonight. You let out a small pout turning from the mirror to face your boyfriend.

“But Ethan, I think this is my best skirt” you stand between Ethan's legs he was sitting at the edge of the bed. You put your hands on his face “Please love?” You give him your sweetest, cutest voice which worked most of the time. Not this time though, Ethan grabbed your wrists hard. You hissed at the harshness of his touch.

“I said NO” Ethan says, with a dark edge to his voice. “Ow, Ethan, you’re hurting me” you cry out, you struggle to get out of his hold, he stands up making you stumble backwards against the wall. “Why do you want to dress like a slut so bad? You want other guys attention or something?!” Ethan spits at you. The crazed look in his eyes scares you a little.

This was different, sure Ethan was kinda needy and jealous and he would get a little grabby when someone gets too close to you. It never scared you before but now you feel uneasy with your boyfriend. “No! Never, why are you acting like this?” Your voice is quivering.

“Because you’re mine!” Ethan practically shouts at you, his chest rising and falling. You flinch back at his aggressive tone. You don’t know what to do in this situation, you just wanted him to calm down and let go of you. “O-okay Ethan, I know I'm yours” you say in a whisper.

“I’ll change, okay? Now please let go” With that Ethan lets go of your wrists, you quickly rub your wrists trying to soothe the pain, You see marks forming. You look at Ethan, the hurt apparent in your eyes. Ethan eyes soften “I’m sorry baby, I really am sorry, I just love you so much”

“I hate when other guys look at you, knowing they are thinking disgusting things, it makes me mad enough to kill”

That look that scared you comes across his face again and his dark words makes your stomach flip. “Uh I get it Ethan, I'm sorry I made you mad” Ethan brings his lips to his wrists to softly kiss it.

“I’m sorry I hurt you” you don’t know if you fully believe him, but you smile at his soft apology and let him kiss you deeply on the lips, his hands roam your body, squeezing your ass through your skirt. He moves his lips to your ears “I only want you to wear this for me, no one fucking else, you got it?”

“O-okay” You stutter out, you felt arousal bloom from the heat on your ear.  

You ended up changing into jeans and a crop top, finding balance with your outfit. You weren’t the happiest about it, but Ethan was okay with your choice but still grumbled about the tightness of the shirt. Ethan and you walk to the party hand and hand.

The party was loud and packed, the lights were dimmed, you could smell the weed and booze in the air. You promised Ethan you wouldn’t drink too much, but after 3 shots and a mixed drink you felt tipsy and Ethan cut you off. He wasn’t too happy. You were cuddled with Ethan on the couch, legs across his lap and his hand tight on your waist.

“I told you not to drink so much” Ethan hissed. You just apologized and kissed his cheek, you really didn't want to ruin the mood.

Chad walks up to you “Y/N Come dance! Why are you being boring on the couch?” Chad reaches for your hand to pull you on the floor. Ethan without a second thought holds you in place his hand on your waist tightens.

You look at Ethan with soft eyes “Please babe? I wanna dance some more and Anika and Tara are on the floor.” Ethan didn’t want to make a scene in front of Chad, but flexed his grip, thinking about letting you go.

“Um sure babe, just come right back” Ethan mumbles, his touch still lingering.  

You let Chad guide you to the floor swaying your hips excitedly. Ethan’s jaw clenches when Chad touches you. You dance with the girls and Chad. Ethan watching every step you take his brows pinched together watching you so intensely.

Ethan tries to keep his cool usually he knows you are naïve to the world and the motives of men, so he must protect you. Lately he's been feeling like you wanted a little space from him, he couldn't handle that. He can usually talk you out of being with your friends or going out late. He wanted you to himself. You were his and he wouldn’t let you forget it.

The music blared and you swayed your hips sexily to the song. Two guys come up behind you, one of them puts their hands on your waist, pulling you against their body, you don’t even struggle for a moment before you feel a tight grip on your arm pulling you away.

Ethan sees red and he grabbed you roughly, pushing the guy with his other hand. “Get the fuck away from her” Ethan shouts over the blaring music. The guy backs up putting his hands up in defense, “My bad didn’t know she was taken, dude” the guy slurs, Chad steps in between “Yeah, move along buddy” The guys scoff and walk away.

Chad looks at you to see if you're okay, you nod. You look at Ethan who still had his you in his grip. There is fire in his eyes, and you didn’t think there was any way to put it out.

“We’re leaving now” Ethan says definitively tugging your arm moving you through the crowd of people. You trip over your feet trying to keep up with Ethan strong grasp. You hear Chad and the girls calling you two back, but Ethan doesn’t stop his stride.

When you make it outside you try to get him to slow down. “Ethan, slow the hell down” you plead with him. He doesn’t say anything until you get to the dorm. Your fear was ramping up as you reached his dorm, he pushed you through the door.

“What the fu-” you start when you fall to your knees. Ethan grabs your hair into a fist pulling you up to push you against the counter. You cry out in pain when your back hits the counter hard. “Ethan what-”  

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Ethan screams in your face, his face is twisted with anger. You were confused and you stumbled over your words telling him you don’t know what he’s talking about.

“Ethan calm down please, it wasn’t my fault” your eyes start to tear up, your voice breaking.

“Yes! it fucking is, I warned you to not act like a fucking slut” Ethan gets close to your face and wraps his hands around your throat, squeezing tight. Your hands fly up to his hands you claw at him.

“How dare you let that guy touch with like that?” he says in disbelief “I bet you liked it too, cause you're a whore” Ethan spits out, he was so close you could feel his hot breath on your face. You shake your head “no” as best as you can manage.

“Please” you choke out. Ethan stares at you for a moment, his eyes roaming over your body before letting go. You cough and try to catch your breath. “I’m sorry I didn’t know he would do that, seriously” you cry out.

Ethan traps you between his body and the counter his hands on both sides of you, you had nowhere to run. You could feel his hard cock pressed against your stomach. He was so hard, and you felt your body tense up at the thought of him getting off doing this to you.

“Yea right, you're just too dumb to know that” like a flip of a switch, a condescending smirk pulls at his lips. “If you wanted to be treated like a slut, you should have just asked.”

Before you can question him; Ethan flips you over, so your ass meets his hips, and he places his hand on your back to keep you in place. You call his name out, worry heavy on your voice. “Dumb slut” Ethan mutters he pulls your jeans down roughly.

“Ethan! Wait" you call out again and you reach your hands out trying to push him back. He doesn’t listen, it’s like he was deaf to the world, not hearing your pleas or he was just ignoring you. Ethan couldn’t contain his rage anymore; he knew one way to put you back in your place.

He needed to remind you that you belonged to him. Ethan pulls your underwear down in a quick motion. “Ethan, I said I'm sorry!” you call out.

“And why the hell was Chad getting involved? Does he fucking like you?” Your eyes go wide “God Ethan no! He's a friend”

You feel a slap come down on your ass cheek, you let out a sharp moan, and another hard slap makes you whine in pain.

“You don't need friends, only me! Am I not good enough for you?” Venom on the tip of his tongue. “Of course, you are, you’re more than enough” Ethan runs his hand on your pussy, feeling your wetness on his slender fingers. “You’re so wet for me baby, you’re never leaving me.”

Ethan moans, your body couldn’t help but react to your boyfriend's coarse touch. You knew it was wrong the way Ethan made you feel. His possessiveness was suffocating you like water filling your lungs but for some reason you didn’t want air.

You hear his pants drop to the floor, and in a quick motion Ethan pushes his way into you. You let out strangled groan. The movement knocking the air out of your lungs and your hips into the counter. Ethan fucked deeper into you, and he wrapped his arm around your neck, so you were flush against him.

“I don’t want you even looking at another guy” He growled into your ear and started kissing your cheek and down your neck. “You’re mine, only mine y/n” each thrust was harder than the last, only making you come more undone around his stiff cock.

The wet sounds and heavy breathing filled the otherwise quiet dorm. You couldn’t hold back anymore, your fear masked with deep arousal.

“I’m yours, I'm yours Ethan” you panted, lust heavy on your tongue. You feel your legs shaking, the unmistakable feeling of cumming hard hits you. You moan Ethan’s name, telling him your cumming.

“Good fucking girl, you were made to cum on my cock baby” Ethan fucks you through your orgasm. Your head feels light, you try to stay upright in Ethan grasp.

“I'm going to fill you up baby, I want you dripping my cum from your tight little pussy” you panic a little. He’s never done that before, usually mumbling how he likes seeing your pretty body and face marked with his seed.

“Ethan wait-wait, please pull out” Ethan lets out a half laugh, he pushes your head down on the cold surface of the counter, you shiver. Ethan drives into you one last time before coating your insides. “Just a reminder on who fucking owns you.”  

[costelloschoice]

Jealously, Jealously

-Mizu x fem! reader

-angsty, fluff at the end

-reblogs and comments are appreciated :]

She couldn’t stand the sound of his laughter with yours.

Was he really that funny? It doesn’t seem like it to her...What was he doing that was so funny anyways? Pathetic jokes? Purposefully bad techniques? He sees the way you looked at Mizu with such adoration and love, maybe he was trying to feel that to fill the void of missing Akemi.

Mizu kept you close, but Taigen closer. She didn't trust him one bit. Of course, she loved to see you happy. Mizu doesn't mind you joking around with Ringo. Maybe it was the past issues with the other samurai that was making her feel this way.

Mizu sighed, viewing the next city they have to travel to from a hill top distance. The winter air was harsh, yet she didn't mind. She knew she was being distant from you, but she couldn't help it. The blue eyed girl shut herself out time to time, making it hard to communicate with you. She was snapped out of her thoughts when she heard snow crunching behind her. It was you.

"Mizu, are you okay? You've been distant lately..." You asked. She only nodded, "Yeah, I'm fine..." This only made you frown.

"You're lying...I can tell.." you huffed. This only made her more agitated with you. Mizu loves you, yes...but this all-knowing attitude is one she can't stand. The samurai rolled her eyes, snapping at you, "I said I'm fucking fine...Why don't you go flirt with Taigen some more, hm?" she snapped, making you go wide eyed before she stormed away.

As she stormed into the nearby forest, she instantly regretted what she said to you. She cursed herself for even raising her voice at you, something she swore to never do. God, Mizu felt pathetic, how could she just you leave you like this? You were her love, her pearl...And all of this animosity over Taigen? God, how could she be so stupid? Eiji would be so disappointed from how childish she was acting.

But stuck her on pride, she didn't apologize right away. She wanted to cool down before speaking to you.

It was dark by the time she decided to come find you. Ringo sat by the fire, trying to wash the dishes from dinner. "Hey Ringo...Do you know where-" she started but soon cut off.

"You were very rude...She doesn't wish to speak with you," he said firmly, a frown on his face. Mizu sighed, if Ringo was mad at her...She knows she was wrong. "Please...I want to apologize. I was out of line for what I said. Please understand..."

He sighed, shaking his head. Mizu was his master after all and should help her mend things with you. "She's in her tent..." Ringo said before continuing to wash the dishes. Mizu thanked him and went to your tent.

Mizu heard sniffling as she saw you laying on the floor of the tent, "Ringo, I told you I don't need anything" you sighed, sitting up. Once you do, your faced with your girlfriend.

"My pearl...Please, I'm so sorry for what I said and how I acted," Mizu started off, coming into the tent. You scoffed and folded your arms across your chest, almost like you were in defense mode. "I know I said hurtful things. I regret saying them to you. I-I was so upset from the attention you're getting from Taigen-"

"He's my friend! Why is that so bad?!"

"I get that but Taigen is not trustworthy! He constantly tries to flirt with you and threatens to kill me in a duel!"

"No he isn't, we're just friends!...Are you jealous?"

"Yes! Yes I am!" Mizu shouted, feeling angry at the outcome of this talk. You look at her with a confused look on your face. She was jealous?

"Mizu...Talk to me...Why don't you like Taigen. The real reason.." You said softly, taking her hands into yours. She sighed, breathe shaky. Mizu hated one thing and that was opening up and letting someone in, letting someone see the real her. Mizu looked into your eyes before starting.

"When I was a child, you know I was bullied by the neighborhood kids? Yeah, Taigen was their ringleader. He made sure to make my life hell when I was living on the streets. Like a dog that ate scraps in the alleyway...A part of me is thankful he isn't rude to you at all, but I can't help but still let that hurt child in me make my adult decisions..." Mizu admitted, looking at you with sad puppy dog eyes.

You sighed, "Mizu..I didn't know. I wish you would tell me. I need to know these things to understand," you said softly, a hand caressing Mizu's cheek. "I know...but it's hard," she mumbled feeling terrible.

"I know, but I'm your girlfriend now...You have to open up and tell me these things," You chuckled, moving to hug her. Mizu immediately accepted the hug, wanting to feel secure in your arms. "My love, I'll talk to talk Taigen... I don't want to continue hurting your feelings. Thank you for opening up.."

"Thank you for listening to me...I'm sorry I swore and raised my voice at you," Mizu mumbled, curling up in your lap. "Oh I'm still upset you swore at me...but some kisses will help," You giggled, making Mizu attack you with kisses all over your face.

[missmonsters2]

hey Van!! Im kind of going through it right now. My parents are divorcing, which is hilarious given that I’m twenty years old and still have major problems and issues with them. I mention this because I’m here for the drabbles and could really use some fictional disappearing for a bit. I would appreciate it if you could do Tara as fluffy and comforting as you can please. With prompts 🧠🫂🤝💕. Thanks for this Van!! I really appreciate it.

Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader/OFC

Warnings: them kisses are very urgent and emotionally charged 👀

Library Blog | AO3

Note: I am so sorry that's happening to you bby!!! D: don't worry, tara will make it all better <3

Count: 0.6k

Reminder there's no taglist but you can follow my library blog for notifications 💘

Please do not copy, repost, or translate my work anywhere else.

⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷🗡⊶⊷⊶⊷⊶⊷

"Hey, hey—" Tara places her hand on your shoulder and softly squeezes. "Baby—"

You jerk awake, sitting up frantically and nearly knocking your head into her nose. Your chest rises and falls in harsh breaths, and tears rapidly well up in your eyes.

A choked sob has Tara pulling you into a tight hug, almost crushing, but you hug her just as tight back. 

"Shh...shh...it's okay..." she coos at you, but her heart is pulsating rapidly too. "It was just a bad dream, that's all."

But it wasn't.

It wasn't just a bad dream. 

What you were dreaming—it was real. You suppose it'd be more accurate to call it a memory. 

"I can't stop thinking about that moment—they got Sam and then you—I couldn't save you—" You choke, and she hushes you some more before gathering some pillows at the headboard. She scoots until she leans back against the pillow, pulling you on top of her.

"They didn't—" Tara says fiercely. "They didn't get us because you were so brave." Tara rubs your back soothingly, pulling the blanket up to cover you. 

Your body wracks with sobs as you cling to her. 

"But your hand—"

"Is fine," Tara tells you sharply. "It'll...just take some extra time to get back to how it was."

Tara can feel your tears staining her shirt.

"It's better than being dead," she combs her fingers through your hair before she cups your cheek. Her fingers are warm and soft, the tips of them brushing against your ear. 

Eventually, your sobs subside, and your grip on her relaxes, but you don't let her go. You can't ever let her go. 

"I'm scared," you mutter into her chest. "Everytime I close my eyes, I'm scared about my dreams, or that someone's breaking in—it's not over."

"It is," Tara cuts in. "We killed them, and they're not coming back. Even if it's not over," Tara hesitates for a moment before she admits, "I'd do anything to keep you safe. There are no lines I wouldn't cross to make sure I don't lose you. I need you with me."

The words lull you into a calm. It's strange how Tara manages to do that. Just earlier this year, she wanted to forget any of this craziness existed, and she wanted to move on with you and just enjoy her college life blissfully. 

And when that beautiful dream was shattered, you think something in Tara did too. The moment Tara thought she was going to lose you, Tara let those shattered pieces remake her.

"I love you," you mumble, the words garbled as you press a kiss to her collarbone. 

Tara shifts, lifting her hips and rolling you over onto your back. Her body pressed against you feels so comforting. The weight of Tara Carpenter is probably the only thing that keeps you anchored to this world. 

Tara's hand caresses the inside of your arm as it strokes its way across until her fingers thread through yours tightly against the mattress. Goosebumps form from her touch; the feeling is an icy hot as Tara presses kisses against your jaw.

"I love you," she presses the words onto your skin. "I'll keep you safe."

Tara's other hand slides across your back until her hand grips your shoulder, keeping you locked against her. Her palm against yours, skin against yours, and lips against yours feel grounding. 

"It was just a bad dream, baby," her lips brushes against yours before kissing you, her tongue stroking your bottom lip. 

You can't hear anything except the blood pounding in your ears and Tara's breaths. You can't feel anything except Tara's fingers, lips, and tongue. And when you close your eyes, you don't see Ghostface anymore. It's just nothing, allowing you to focus on your girlfriend. 

When Tara's tongue grazes the tip of yours, you tremble. 

"I'll make it go away."

[jooniperbonsai]

Thanks for the Sub (ksj) | Chapter Three

Pairing: Camboy!Seokjin x Gamer!Reader (afab)

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 14.9k

Release date: March 24, 2024

Genre: Smut, fluff, angst, camboy au, gamer au, comedy, crack, slow burn (?), coworkers/boss/friends to lovers, an exploration of adults in their late 20s/early 30s

Summary: Now that Seokjin has agreed to come over and help you practice for your streams, you find there's a lot more you want to do with him than actually prepare for this stream.

Chapter Warnings: Anxiety and panic attacks HEAVILY referenced in this chapter, familial verbal and emotional abuse that might be triggering to some (slamming of doors, manipulative behaviors), references to puberty, implied chubby/fat reader, references to disordered eating (not main characters), references to oral (f), mention of sub drop, Seokjin is STRONG and the king of consent, lots of little domestic moments idk let's hope I didn't forget anything

a/n: Ahh finally, I'm so sorry it took so long to get to you. I have been very busy in my little corner of reality so I haven't had a chance to really dive back in for a while. I hope you enjoy more of the backstory to the characters in this one, I found pulling away from the spicy bits a little necessary so I could learn more about my characters as they grow.

I'll be in South Korea these next few weeks for my birthday, so I might be mostly offline but I'll enjoy looking at your comments, tags, questions, etc, while I'm away! Thanks for your patience. Enjoy! -h

This, she thinks, is goodbye. Her body sprawled in the silk sheets of August’s chamber, head thrust back onto the plush pillows. Never again in her life did she think she would see the dark beams of his ceiling again, yet now, her legs bent and open for him, his lips eagerly suckling her inner thigh, she couldn’t imagine life any other way. 

How many times had she counted each knot in the wood above her, her eyes tracing the swirl and swell of the grain while August swirled the swell of her sex? Perfectly matched in this way, as if he were reading her like a map he’d crafted himself. He knew her. Knew all of her, how the heady moan leaving her throat now was a sign she was becoming impatient with his thorough ministrations. 

She dared to risk a glance down, only to see him watching her intently, devilishly choosing that moment to latch himself onto her, a wicked smirk flashing across his face as she elicited a hearty gasp. 

“August,” she breathed, instinctively tangling her fingers through his newly-raven hair, dyed dark now to comply with his family’s request. While his once-bleached locks were the definite sign of his rebellion, a sign that he would fight against the ruling state and their convoluted and asinine laws that prevented royalty from marrying a commoner, she admitted his natural hair suited him more. He looked less harsh this way, his delicate skin creamy and soft as she skimmed her fingertips across his cheek. 

“No,” he breathed into her sex, sending a delightful shiver down her spine. 

Something about the glint in his eye as he feasted upon her spelled out more than simple lust. No, she forbade herself to think that this was more than a parting gift, a transaction before she would be cast aside for his betrothed. 

“Please,” she begged, though she knew she was asking for many things in that request. Please end the hunger between her legs, please end his engagement. Please take her to bed tonight and tomorrow and every night after. Please love me. 

“Say my name,” he growled, sitting up to wipe his mouth with the back of his robe sleeve.

“August,” she called but he only chuckled darkly, the cool blue of the fabric cascading around him. 

 She felt so exposed. Here she was, completely naked, and yet he hadn’t even begun to undress. It felt cold, final, and sickening. Her eyes roved his body, looking for more skin, anything to keep her close to him at this moment, but he was so carefully tucked away. 

“August,” she said again and he shook his head. 

“That’s not my name,” he argued. 

Her eyebrows knit together, and she reached forward, needing now more than ever to touch him. She was drowning fast in the night, the blue robes sweeping over both their bodies as he leaned closer, finally letting her grip his forearm as she groped around. He was drifting from her in one way or another, his body a boat on the water that was capsizing her under his waves. 

“I–I can’t. I can’t see you. I–.” A rush of white hot panic surged into her throat, constricting her words. As she began drowning, August moved quickly, disrobing himself and pulling her into his embrace. She gasped for air as she wrenched out a heavy sob, her nipples stroking the soft hairs on his chest, yet she ignored the sensation instead for the thing she needed more: his heartbeat. 

There, in his chest, was the melodic thrum that sought to calm her erratic one, calling her home to him in the cold night air. 

“Breathe, Petal,” he commanded, and she felt a rush of air fall from her lungs as she remembered once more to do the most simple of human tendencies. His arms laced around her back, where the soft tracing of his fingers along her spine brought her back into herself. 

“I’m sorry,” she cried, a prick of tears falling despite her best efforts to appear unaffected. 

He hummed in response. 

“Stay with me,” he whispered, and she felt her joints loosen as she molded herself further into his embrace. 

“I want to,” she replied, voice unsteady. “Sugar, please just hold me.”

He melted into her, a pool of warmth overtaking him as he absorbed her nickname. He kissed her forehead, her temples, everywhere his mouth could spread some of the sweetness.

After long, she hummed a satisfied sound through her lips, and her hips began rocking against him. He laid her back down, his eyes searching hers before the corner of his mouth ticked into a smirk. 

“You with me?” he asked, his smirk becoming a full grin as she bucked further toward him, desperate and wanting. He was back, the ever-changing prince who within a blink of an eye could transform the room into his sensual paradise. 

August’s hand skimmed up her calf and back between her thighs, resting up against her heat. 

“August,” she panted, and he chuckled darkly, the scar over his eye almost glowing in the moonlight. 

“I told you that’s not my name,” he warned, sliding his fingers into her wet folds. 

“Seokjin,” you said, his name caught in your throat as he continued moving.

“Good girl,” he coaxed, two of his fingers covering the edges of your clit as he began rolling it under his touch. 

“Fuck.” 

The wooden beams were gone. Now it was the familiar white plaster that you often looked at, trying to remember what constellations were above during what season, though you could never see the stars anyway in this part of the city. 

Seokjin pulled himself up off the chamber bed, though the chamber was hazy, almost pixelated as you realized around you it was not the chamber of August and his beloved, but your small bedroom. 

“Focus,” he commanded, and your eyes flashed over to Seokjin, who was naked and sweaty, his chest flush like it was when you’d seen him before. His fingers roamed over your calf and he lifted you leg at an angle, exposing your pussy to the cool air. 

Seokjin licked his lips and began swirling his fingers around your clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. 

“You gonna be good for me?” he asked and you moaned an affirmative as you felt the first of his fingers tip into you. 

“Nuh uh, use your words, Y/N.” 

You opened your mouth to beg but found no words could come out. He cocked his head, confused. Seokjin reached over to touch your face. You felt nothing. 

“What–”

The plop of the book hitting the floor jars you awake. At some point in reading, you must’ve dozed off, your world and the book world merging into a hot, overwhelming dream that has your heart racing. 

He’s in your mind again, Seokjin. And it really is all your fault. Because you’ve spent the rest of your weekend and the first half of this week texting him with a plan to put this After Dark stream into place, an idea that you hadn’t really thought through before proposing to him. 

You know you want this, to feel at ease in your body and confident to hold your own on streams. Especially since the option to quit is becoming less and less of an option. This week, your university confirmed your withdrawal, meaning that for the next few months you’ll be focusing on streaming and working more shifts at the restaurant to try and replenish your income for the summer term. 

And that also means you’ll be seeing Seokjin a lot more often. Your stomach does a tiny flip just thinking about it. 

Now with him being around you everywhere, all the time, your subconscious has been drifting to dreams of him, and every waking thought is somehow finding a way to wiggle him in. At the market this morning, you were walking through the produce section where you noticed a large pile of mangoes on sale. Does Seokjin like mangoes? you’d wondered. That shirt on the mannequin would look good on Seokjin. That dog looks like the one in the old picture in Seokjin’s office. What would Seokjin think about this recurring ad? 

It’s becoming relentless. So much so that you also find yourself asking him random questions to take the edge off. 

Me 1:47PM: Thoughts about fruit on pizza. 

Seokjin 1:50PM: Are you asking because we are having pizza later?

Me 1:51PM: No I was just wondering

Me 1:51PM: Unless you want that later? I can get us some 

Me 1:51PM: I’ll pay

Seokjin 1:51PM: No you will not! I’ll pay

Seokjin 1:53PM: Also depends on the kind of fruit

Seokjin 1:53PM: Never had blueberries on pizza. 

Seokjin 1:54PM: But I would maybe try it. Pineapple is fine though.

Seokjin 1:55PM: I’ll pick up the pizza on the way over. Be there at 6. 

Seokjin agreed to stop by today to do some roleplay exercises for you to practice before your stream later tonight. He thought it was important that you run through the full scale of situations you might be presented with so you could say no firmly but without risking losing your viewership, two things equally at odds with each other for you most of the time. 

You look for your phone in the mess of your couch cushions, assuming that at some point in your impromptu nap, it slunk down between the crack. Sure enough, you find it nestled between two cushions, the comfort of its weight in your hand dismissing some of the panic when you see it’s only 4:30. He hasn’t texted, which means he hasn’t canceled.

You remember from his stream last week that he maintains a tempered persona, never giving too much or too little away to his viewers. He’d exuded such self control. Is he always like that? 

You know he mostly keeps it together at work, but that amount of restraint shocks you. You’re always wondering what it is that will make him snap. Sure, you’ve seen him annoyed, or occasionally yelling at your coworkers, but never rageful. Never out of control. That just isn’t Seokjin. 

Determined to keep your hands busy while you wait for him to arrive, you busy yourself tidying, though your apartment is scarily clear because you’ve been frantically cleaning all day. You walk into the kitchen, a small, narrow room that has never been very welcoming as a cooking space. Your old, banged up fridge has dents from where the door has opened too quickly and rocketed into the oven handle, leaving a jagged, metal scar on the surface.

When you’d first moved in, you didn’t understand how something could be so damaged, but within the first week, it became apparent how heavy and quickly the door swung into it, probably because the floors, and thus everything else, doesn’t sit exactly level in the space, meaning that everything that you bake comes out at an angle, and everything else always falls to one side of the pan, making things uneven. Every time you use your rolling pin, you have to place it on an oven mitt or else you risk it rolling into the large gap between the countertop and the wall. 

Your apartment is one that you’ve done your best to uplift. While your kitchen is somewhat of a hellhole, with a buzzing fluorescent light that sounds almost like it’s mocking you when you dare to cook anything in it, the rest of your space has some sense of charm to it. 

There’s a large window facing the back parking lot of the building, which some may find less exciting because it isn’t exuding some Instagram-worthy backdrop of urban living, but you benefit from the fact that there’s a large, undeveloped lot in your view, with some plum trees that will bloom in the next few weeks, and the soft chartreuse green that ushers in the early spring grasses is slowly starting to brighten in hue. 

Some summer nights, you crack your window and hear the loud chattering of cicadas and birds as they rustle through the trees, and it helps to distract from the usual traffic noises that ricochet off the other buildings around you. 

You have some small herbs growing on the windowsill, as well as some salvaged green onion ends you’d tossed into an empty yogurt pot with soil and let take off. A sad excuse for a dining table is propped against it with two mismatched chairs. 

An oversized, well-loved, brown couch you got for a steal from one of those local posting groups takes up a large chunk of your living room, which will probably have to be sawed in half to get out of your space if you ever move. It weighs a ton and you can’t even shuffle it into a better angle toward your television, which has resulted in one side of the couch being further worn-down and frumpy from the creases of you sitting in the same spot day after day. The other side usually houses a variety of character plushies and a large pink knit blanket you swaddle yourself in regularly. Today, everything is given a place, and the blanket is folded and resting on the back of the couch. 

The rest of your apartment is a collection of stuff: some mismatched bookshelves shoved into one corner with all your smutty reads and figurines, postcards and repurposed mailers you’ve collaged into some type of wall art, and Barry, your Big Mouth Bass that knows one song and one song only: “Take Me to the River”. 

Due to your lack of space in your cozy apartment, your desk and gaming set-up are in your room. During streams, you tote out a collapsible green screen to give yourself at least some privacy, but behind the screen is your bed you’ve cluttered with some throw pillows, a dresser whose drawers are so warped they don’t fully close, the nightstand which hides your collection of sex toys, and that’s about it. As the months have progressed, your schoolwork has moved from being the main event on the desk to now being crammed into the shallow drawers beneath. Beyond that, your PC and streaming supplies take up the rest of the space in your room. 

After fussing with everything for a whole ten minutes, you retreat from your bedroom, heading into the hellscape kitchen to stare at the groceries you’ve just bought. 

A jar of kimchi, some beets, and a comically large bag of carrots you impulse bought greet you. You sigh. Yes, this is what you’ll have to do to make time pass. Pulling the items from the fridge, you shuffle around to gather your cutting board from its slot next to the microwave, and find your good knife set in the drawer. 

One of the conditions you were given upon being hired at the restaurant was to purchase your own set of knives. “It teaches you how to respect the tools before you. Having pride in your knives ensures you’ll serve food with pride,” Mr. Kim had told you. 

When you shared that knowledge with Seokjin he snorted. “It ensures you’ll not damage our own knives that he’s too cheap to replace is what he means.” 

Regardless, you now own a decent quality set of cutting knives, perfect for what you need them for. You scrub and lightly peel the carrots to trim away the dirt and uneven shapes adorning the outside.

Then, you begin your setup, placing your cutting board with a kitchen towel near the end to catch any rollaway carrots you’re bound to encounter during your task. You snag a large bowl, a rubber jar grip to keep the cutting board in place, and your Chef’s knife from your knife set. You chop up the kimchi and beets, doing a tiny bit of prep by cutting those for later in the week. Then, you begin with the carrots. 

You pull from the washed pile and grip your knife, and remember what Seokjin taught you: cut the rounded edge off the carrot so it sits flat on the board. You slice again, then again, stacking the pieces before cutting in the next direction until a pile of neat matchsticks lay before you. 

No chaos erupting in the kitchen, no pieces flinging to the floor or a semi-concussion. Just you, the yellow glow of the humming light, and your carrots. You begin the next one. Then again. It’s almost addicting, like the affirmation that you are capable of this, of anything, has started to warm something inside of you. 

When was the last time you felt this confident and assured? Felt like you were growing in the right direction? In school, you were used to doing fairly well and understanding the material, but this is different somehow. This is you seeing the results as they pile higher into the bowl. You reach for another and another, washing the rest of the carrots and scrubbing them before continuing. Your hands are now properly stained, the beet juice, gochugaru, and carrot juice making your hands look like you are bleeding, but you don’t care. The ache from your grip, the loud thumping at the door, they don’t mean anything in this moment when it’s you feeling the give of the vegetable as it splits into finer pieces. 

“Y/N?!! HELLO ARE YOU OKAY?” 

A familiar voice bellows from the hall, another sharp thunk hitting the metal door. Seokjin. 

Your eyes rip to the clock on the oven. It’s already five minutes past six. You’ve been cutting carrots for about an hour. 

Hastily, you rinse your hands, ignoring the sting as the cold water spurts from the faucet. You grab the kitchen towel off the oven handle, and rush to the door.

You barely have it unlocked before Seokjin barges in, two large pizza boxes and a six pack of beer in his hands as he steps over the threshold. He smells faintly of mint and eucalyptus. 

Seokjin whips in your direction, scanning his eyes over your face and down your body. 

“Are you hurt? Are you okay?” His eyes are wide, his pupils blown out as he fervently looks you up and down, gasping as he takes in your hands. “What happened?”

“What? No, no I’m fine!” You hold one hand up in his direction, taking the kitchen towel and rubbing it into your palm for good measure. “They’re stained. Um, I was cutting vegetables.”

His eyes flit to the direction of the kitchen, where the light is still on and buzzing, and you can just make out the chopping board on the counter. Now assured you’re not injured, Seokjin recovers, stepping out of his shoes and padding into the kitchen.

“Whoa, you really were going to town in here with the carrots weren’t you? I thought I could smell it on you.” 

Your cheeks flood with heat. “Well, you said I had to practice.” 

Seokjin chuckles, shaking his head in amusement before holding up the six pack. “Uh, I brought beer. I don’t know if you like it or not but I feel like it goes really well with pizza.” 

You smile. “I’m not sure if getting me wasted is the solution to setting boundaries with my stream. Doesn’t alcohol lower your inhibitions?”

He cocks an eyebrow. “Are you planning on finishing off this entire six pack by yourself and getting trashed? Much less beer that is…” He squints at the packaging. “...four percent alcohol?” 

You laugh. “No, I suppose not. Thank you.” You take the case from his hands and pluck two bottles from the cardboard before putting the rest in the fridge. Holding the cold bottle in your hands, you grimace. 

“What’s wrong? Do you not like this brand?” Seokjin asks. 

You shake your head. “No, it’s not that. Um, I don’t really drink often so I don’t actually own a bottle opener.” 

Seokjin frowns and looks around your kitchen, grazing his hand along the chipped laminate counters. Then he takes the bottle in his hand and whacks it down on the counter edge on an angle. The cap pops off, a subtle wisp of fog puffing from the top. He smirks, proud. He gestures for you to hand him your bottle. 

With ease, he pops off the second cap and deposits it back into your hands. 

Your jaw hangs slack. “Wh-how did you do that?” you ask. 

He chuckles. “There’s a science to it, angles. I’m just glad I didn’t take a chunk of the counter with me. I’ve done that before.” 

“And you risked my counter top just now?” 

He snorts. “Come on, did anything happen? A little bit of trust would be nice, Y/N.” He glances at the giant bowl of cut carrots. “Well, you’ve certainly improved. What are you going to make with all those?” 

You pull your lips into a thin line. You hadn’t thought about it. Your silence seems to tip Seokjin off to that as well, because after a sip of beer, he sets his bottle on the back end of the counter, rolling up his sleeves and scooting over to the sink to wash his hands. 

“What are you doing?” you ask. 

“Cooking,” he replies simply. “Do you have flour? Green onions?” 

You nod. “Okay, get those. I’ll also need some soybean paste if you have it, vegetable oil, salt, and sugar.” 

You furrow your brows. You know this recipe from the restaurant. “You’re making jeon? But, we already have pizza.” 

“We can have the pizza as an appetizer. Jeon will be the main course.”  

You laugh. “How much do you think I eat?” 

“Not much. But you see, I am very hungry.” Heat shoots to your core. You glance over at Seokjin, who is looking at you amused as he squeezes the carrots between his hands to wring out the excess juice.

You didn’t really notice before, but Seokjin looks effortlessly cool, a loose pink linen button down framing his broad shoulders. He’s left the top two buttons undone, exposing the white t-shirt he wears underneath. Lighter wash jeans cover his strong thighs. If a stranger ever passed him on the street, they might think he’s too cool for them, too serious or vain.

But, there are notes of him everywhere in this outfit that suggests the break in the persona. One of the buttons in the middle of his shirt has popped open, a few hairs on the back of his head are cowlicked out of place, and on his feet are a pair of neon green Chikorita Pokemon socks. You find it impossible to hide your amusement. 

“Ah, got it. Nice socks by the way,” you joke, trying to distract from the singing heat and close proximity. You can’t help but think about the last time you and Seokjin were in such confined spaces and how that ended up. “Didn’t know you were going to use your feet later to guide an airplane into landing.” 

“Well, I figured it was a necessary backup in case your hands weren’t bright enough.” He nods toward you. You laugh. 

“Touché.” 

You open your upper cabinet. The paper bag of flour sits on the middle shelf, which you usually climb onto the counter to reach, but with Seokjin in the kitchen, there’s even less space than usual. You stretch, lifting onto your tiptoes. Your fingertips brush the bag, but it’s not enough to move it. As you try to angle yourself better, you see two large hands come above yours, Seokjin easily grabbing the flour off the shelf to set down onto the counter. 

You feel his body heat behind you, his shirt brushing the small of your back from where your own rode up during your stretch, and a swell of goosebumps rise on your arms from the gentle tickle. 

“There,” Seokjin says softly into your ear, almost breathless. “Don’t want to have any more kitchen related incidents, do we?” Too soon, he moves away, his warmth, the subtle note of his cologne fading into the smell of the green onions he’s set next to your not-so-glorious prep space. 

Suddenly, he scoffs. You turn toward him. “What?”

“Really, Y/N? Have you learned nothing?” The heat in your core immediately dissipates, welcoming a familiar sour stroke of shame as you try to put together what you’ve missed. How did you fuck this up? What haven’t you learned? When you focus on what he’s pointing at, you realize he isn’t angry. He’s teasing you. 

Your knife is unsheathed on the cutting board, abandoned in your haste to let him in. “When are you ever going to learn basic kitchen safety?” he laughs. The prick of embarrassment dissolves, Seokjin’s laugh soothing the ache.

You smile and shrug. “In my defense, I didn’t have the time to put it away or in the sink because you were disturbing the peace by practically breaking my door down.” 

He rolls his eyes and sighs. “Well excuse me for wanting to ensure your safety. Now where’s that soybean paste?”

Seokjin had been sitting on, or practically in your couch for the last twenty minutes as you ran through various scenarios and questions you were likely to experience while streaming. Your old couch was comfy, but as you’d practiced longer, he felt he was shrinking, the cushions settling further and further down. That, he thought, was probably going to hurt to climb out when the time came. 

Despite the size and outdated condition your apartment was in, he was fascinated with how you’d chosen to decorate it, as if everything had its own place. You had an impressive collection of colorful books on a bookshelf, framed in with little knick-knacks and figurines of your favorite characters or collectibles. One large sunny window was decorated with stickers that acted as prisms, sending rainbow beams across your floor at a certain point in the day. A photo of a very young you and two people he assumed were your parents leaning against a guard rail over a canyon was framed and hung next to a giant plastic fish. 

No, you didn’t have much. It was clear you’d thrifted or trash picked most of the furniture in your apartment, with the exception of your computer setup. You’d taken him into your bedroom to show him what system you used, how you’d built your system based on the specifications of your mod, who Seokjin now knew, was also your best friend Wonwoo. 

But Seokjin couldn’t help but revel in how well cared for and cozy this small place was, so different from the cold floors of his own apartment. It reminded him of the tiny place he used to live in with his parents. It was familiar, safe. 

When he’d come in, he did worry something was wrong. You weren’t one to not answer, attentive in the restaurant to everyone, often whipping your head in someone’s direction the second you heard the first sound of your name slip through someone’s lips. When you didn’t answer, he’d wondered if you’d been injured or worse. As much as he tried not to judge your building, he was a little concerned about the safety precautions put in place. He’d walked straight in, no lock on the front door, no door man. Everyone’s names were blatantly listed on their mailboxes. If anyone wanted to find you, it wouldn’t be hard to do so. 

But you were fine, and the acrid worry that had bloomed in him during those five minutes of you not answering had dissolved once he saw your bright smile, and the even brighter colored stains on your hands. 

They were still blotchy, though a few runs under the sink with dish soap was helping them fade. As you feathered a hand through your hair, he found himself grinning. The fact that you had acquired a bulk bag of carrots and used them for practice was so endearing to him. He never doubted your dedication to work, but the fact that you were using the techniques he taught you in your kitchen had brightened something in Seokjin he hadn’t even known felt dark. 

And he also couldn’t ignore the sense of pride he had as you practically moaned into the jeon you two had made together, the crispy texture and roll of hot oil over your tongue invoking something in you Seokjin couldn’t help but be drawn to. You loved to eat. It was one of the first things he noticed about you, and as creepy as it sounded, also what stoked those first wisps of attraction. 

You loved food the way he did, without care, or at least without care the way most people who he was raised around cared. No, you didn’t eat a lot, but when you did, you were all in, bare hands sticky after eating peaches, their juice dribbling down your chin and forearms, joyful hums when you bit into your favorite crunchy snacks from the convenience store. 

He remembered growing up the ways in which women, even his mother, were almost afraid of food, afraid of how they would spend hours in the kitchen making heaps of it, pounds of fresh kimchi, grilled fish, decadent soups with tofu and mushrooms and packets of ramyeon, and yet when it was time to eat, they were too busy too or suddenly not hungry, or they would eat a few bites and excuse themselves from the table to clean up. 

It was sad, really. Because Seokjin ate and ate fully, and maybe because he wasn’t a woman he didn’t need to worry about his body that way, or maybe because he always had some insane metabolism that didn’t impose weight like it did with others, but it never hit him the same. He loved food. 

And clearly so did you, delighted in the meal he gave you, even eliciting a groan as you washed down a bite with your beer. It was like you were grateful for every bite of food that ever entered your mouth.

“You were right. This does taste better together,” you said. He was practically beaming. 

He glanced down at the pile of jeon. They weren’t bad, but they were a little uneven. While cooking, he’d noticed that something was a bit off about your kitchen. Your oven and everything else were a bit titled, and it pooled the jeon batter toward one end, making them thicker on one side and harder to cook properly. Your fridge door also was dented, having the similar issue of the weight pushing things to one side. He made a mental note to shove some cardboard under the floor pegs later to help level the appliances. 

Your counter situation, though, he couldn’t help. You would just have to keep with your barricade at the end to avoid rolling. But you seemed to be savvy in how you solved the various erroneous features of your apartment, making the best of what you had. 

In fact, as Seokjin sat in the crook of your massive couch, he noticed why this side was so sunken; it was the only spot you could actually see the TV from this angle. He wondered if he could shuffle it a little bit more in a better view while you were streaming later, or if you would even notice. 

You hovered next to the couch, your bottom lip worried between your teeth. You were nervous about something. 

“What is it?” He asked. The time for your stream was growing nearer, and he’d promised he would stay for at least the first half, setting up his laptop in your living room. 

“What am I doing?” you groaned and flopped down on the floor, a frustrated wail muffling into the carpet. 

“Testing yourself and growing. Listen, Y/N, you know you don’t have to do this, but we’ve been over it daily at this point. You want more money and this is what you’ve decided is the most viable option. After-Dark type streams do make a lot more money, you want to exercise more freedom with yourself, do I need to go on?” 

You shook your head. Seokjin chuckled. 

“Okay, so–yah, sit up!” You bolted off the carpet and folded your legs underneath you. 

“So, you know I’m going to be out here if you need anything. If you need me, I’m just on the other side of that door. Also, we’ve been practicing, right?”

“I know, I just…I’m not like you. I’m not confident, I’m not really easygoing or likable like you are. I can’t dom–command a room or everyone’s attention with my charisma how you can. I’m worried that if I don’t give people what they ask for, they’re just going to leave.”

Seokjin scoffed. He knew that on the outside, in the context of work that you were used to seeing him in, he appeared in charge and control at all times. It was part of the job, to be well tempered and fair and even, maintain a sense of friendliness but firmness, it was common sense. But much of his advice today wasn’t coming from that version of him you knew. A lot of this was insight and experience he’d gained as Jin, who he needed to be to ensure he was meeting his tip goals, or needing to remind everyone he was the one in charge, not them. 

Even at work last week, when Seokjin needed to call the distributor because there was some issue with a shipment of produce, it was Jin he was channeling to make the call. If it were Seokjin, he would have been a sweaty, nervous mess. Jin was business, Jin was the one who laid down the law. Seokjin himself? 

He was the youngest Kim son, the one who, when his parents’ friends and family members thought he wasn’t listening, gossiped about. Why wasn’t he married? Didn’t he have that fiancée for a while? Oh she had a baby with another man? His boss? Well surely that has been long enough now, right? He had another girlfriend, or found some other salaryman career. At 30, it would be kind of sad if his life wasn’t going anywhere. 

And that’s where Seokjin was, after all. Single, a sex worker, or temporary restaurant manager. This morning he’d received a text in the family group chat from his brother with a photo of his nephew kissing his sister-in-law’s bump. He loved his nephew, he loved his brother and was happy for their little family. But he also felt hollow as he opened that picture, like some part of him knew he was never going to truly get to have that for himself. 

“Hey,” he said, and your eyes flitted from the floor back to him. “First of all, if they leave they leave, right? Those aren’t the people you want to be on your streams because their energy sucks and they’ll just keep asking more of you. Second,” he cleared his throat, “you are likable. Otherwise you wouldn’t be in this position in the first place, having viewers and subscribers. There has to be a part of you that is genuine there, otherwise everyone will know you’re lying and move away from you. Don’t they say something about how all the best lies are rooted in truth?” 

“But I’m not trying to lie to them,” you said meekly. 

Seokjin internally kicked himself for saying that. Perhaps suggesting that you lie to everyone wasn’t the best move. 

“I know, I mean, that you don’t offer all of yourself, but offer the parts of you that you know are there that are stable. And for the rest of it, fake it until you make it. Until you can feel confident as a streamer, able to set boundaries. Pretend you’re someone else. The person you want to be.” he amended. 

Jin was some of the best parts of Seokjin. Maybe even better. Self-assured, knowledgeable about sex and sexuality in ways he hadn’t been when he was with Soon Yi, he could say no to things he’d never been able to say no to his boss about, and things he couldn’t say no to now because the restaurant wasn’t technically his. There were things he could do, ways he could slip some power in there or make decisions, but nothing was really his. Not the way streaming was. That was all for him. And while yes, his friends knew he did it and supported him in their own way (thankfully most of them did not tune in but on occasion Jungkook and Taehyung would hop on when completely wasted to goad him to “release the beast”), it was still a success that couldn’t be shared publicly, even though he didn’t really want to share it anyway, and didn’t really feel successful. 

“Is that what you did? Faked it until you made it? Until you were the person you wanted to be?” 

His blood ran cold. Were you reading his thoughts? Did you know? 

“W-what?” 

Oh god, what if you knew? Seokjin would rush out into the night and dig his own grave. Because if anyone else knew what he did, if his parents found out or his brother or you, he was sure he would become the worst parts of himself. A failure again. Once more someone to be quietly gossiped about in rooms when he was in full range of hearing what they had to say. He couldn’t imagine anything more humiliating than you seeing him, your own boss, with a bright pink dildo shoved up his ass as he pandered to thousands of people with whimpers and cries. Especially when he just spent the better half of an hour telling you that you didn’t need to pander to anyone. 

Would you think less of him for it? Would you ask him why he was doing gay streaming of all things? His face flushed, probably turning incredibly red with embarrassment. 

“With the restaurant,” you said. 

He swallowed the thick lump that had formed in his throat and coughed. 

“Y-yes,” he stammered. “What you see there. It’s not really me all the time. I’m not always all that confident. But I want to be.” 

You nodded quietly and stretched your arms over your head. “That makes sense,” you said as you began to pace. “Okay.” 

You still had another two hours before your stream was set to start, and Seokjin could tell you were still on edge. He took a deep breath when you turned away, letting the rush of air into his lungs help cool his face.  

“Seokjin?” you asked.

“Yeah?” 

“Will you stay until it’s over? I know it’ll be late, and it’s a big ask, but maybe we can eat leftover pizza and debrief?” 

He smiled. “Of course.” 

He couldn’t imagine a better way to spend his night, and probably early morning if he was honest. Your streams could go well into the wee hours of the morning, and while tomorrow while opening he’d probably be kicking himself for this, right now he didn’t care about anything except the warm tug he felt in his chest as he imagined the two of you sitting on the floor with cold pizza and laughter at 3a.m. 

“Thank you. Also, do you think we could have another beer or something? I need to take the edge off. I know I’m overthinking it but I need something to distract me before this stream or I might not show up.” 

You didn’t wait for his permission, probably because you weren’t asking for it. You slid into the kitchen and back out with two more cold beers. 

“Will you show me how to open these again? I want to try.” 

Seokjin struggled a bit against the dip of your couch, but eventually found himself level and close to you, so close in fact that the soft scent of your shampoo was once again permeating his nostrils. 

You were intoxicating to him, honestly, and he found himself unable to help himself as he squeezed behind you in your tiny kitchen, inhaling partially into your hair as he walked you through the process. 

You fiddled with the bottle for a second, holding yourself at an awkward angle. 

“Like this?” 

If you did it at this angle, you would be sure to cause the beer to explode, the cap wouldn’t get enough traction to pop off easily. 

“Not unless you want to participate in a wet t-shirt contest,” he joked before he even realized how sexually charged that comment was. 

You inhaled a little sharply. 

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, you’re a little stiff here.” Then, very carefully, he rested his hands onto your hips, gently maneuvering you so you were able to prop your arm up and out of his way so you wouldn’t elbow him in the ribs when you slammed the bottle down. 

He kind of hated himself when he had to let go of your waist. His fingers were tingling simply from brushing them along the seam of your shirt, from feeling the warm curve of your hip under his fingers. Why did his hands feel so at home on your body?

Your sharp movement pushed him out of his reverie as you launched the bottle down onto the counter top, the soft plink and your sparkling eyes confirming you were successful. 

That’s my girl, he thought. Only you weren’t his girl. You couldn’t be further from his. And as soon as he thought it, he also felt the soft ache in his chest knowing that you would probably never be his. Because you couldn’t. Because you were without a doubt too good for him, and Seokjin knew all that stood between you and the right guy was time. An opportunity. You walk into the right place some day and then boom, there he will be. 

He fucking hated that guy already. 

You popped the second cap from the bottle and turned around, shoving your body directly into him as you beamed with pride. “See! I did it!” You looked so adorable, your eyelashes long and fluttering as you gazed up at him. 

A smile cracked through his gloom. You were like a little sunbeam to him. 

“You did,” he acknowledged, and he took the bottle you offered, taking a swig. He waited for you to make the next move, to dislodge your body from the cramped corner of the kitchen, for the magnetic pull of your body to signal it was too close, too intimate so one of you would break away. 

But neither of you did. In fact you sighed and moved closer to him, forcing the small of Seokjin’s back to rest up against the handle bar of the oven. It wasn’t comfortable at all, but he didn’t dare move. 

“Can I ask you something?” You asked quietly after a while, staring down at the bottle. 

“Sure,” he responded. 

You nibbled your bottom lip then sighed again, unsure. He felt your warm exhale hit his forearms. Did you really not realize how close you were to him? The smell of you, even that tiny hit of beer breath, was starting to drive him insane. 

You shifted yourself even closer. 

“Um, it’s going to sound embarrassing to ask this but I just have to.” 

Your voice was low now, a tiny whisper coming out of you. Fuck, you were perfect. 

“Go ahead,” he whispered back, smirking. “I won’t judge you.”

“Okay, um. Are you…are you bi?” 

“Am I by what?” 

You fidgeted uncomfortably and pulled back slightly. You raised your eyebrows. 

“No, not by as in near, I mean bi as in like, you know, bisexual?” You shifted your gaze away, and then Seokjin felt the question sink in. 

He was such a fucking idiot. 

God, this is one of the most awkward interactions you’ve ever had in your life and you feel yourself getting hotter and more embarrassed by the second.

Standing in your tiny cramped kitchen, you decided now for no good reason was the best time to ask Seokjin if he’s bisexual. Or really if he’s gay. Because you need to know. Need answers. Or a confirmation that will help kill this crush for good because as of tonight? It’s much, much worse. 

Something about watching him cook earlier, specifically in your kitchen, did something to you. The way he touched your hips to show you how to do that beer opening trick, how he looked slumped into your couch, the way he hovered over your bookshelves and belongings with curiosity, and laughed hysterically over Barry once he pressed the button. 

He fits here. In your apartment. It isn’t just some stupid fantasy version of him you could imagine. He is real and beautiful and fits into this corner of your life like a perfect puzzle piece. 

And if he’s gay, if there’s no chance that he can give you even the fantasy of this, then it all needs to stop. But it’s also so unfair for you to ask this of him. What if he’s not out? What if you’re forcing him to come out and no one knows and all because your insatiable horniness led you to a gay streaming site where you found him now his livelihood and privacy are technically in jeopardy?

Fuck. You can’t do that to him. And suddenly you’re aware of what you just did, how uncool this was for you to just out and ask. Heat claws into your throat as you sit in this shock of silence, clamping down on your airway and leaving your voice in a reedy wheeze as you try to take back your inquiry.

“I–I’m sorry, you don’t need to answer! I’m out of line. Really, I shouldn’t have even asked. Jesus, I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you splutter, heart beating erratically, a line of perspiration beginning to form at the back of your neck at an insane speed. How humiliating. 

“Whoa, whoa, it’s okay. Relax. Breathe,” Seokjin says. You force a ragged inhale but find yourself coughing, gasping to try to find air in this room that is too small and a million degrees warmer. 

You are standing in the hallway outside of the bathroom, rasping for air into your lungs. Your mother has just come home from work, shouting about how you haven’t remembered to take the chicken out of the freezer or done any of the chores she’d asked you to while she was gone. 

The day has gotten away from you, a hot summer that is so oppressive no one even wants to go outside. You would get all she asked of you done and more before she returned home. The chicken would be thawed, you’d vacuum and mop the floors, would even wipe down the bathroom sink from all the hair she and your father left in it during his morning shave. 

And then you would go to your friend’s house tonight, for the sleepover you’ve been dreaming of, eat lots of candy that her father would bring home from work that yours never let you have. You could tell her about the boy whose parents own the convenience store at the end of the street, and how all summer you’ve been finding an excuse to run up to the shop with your allowance to get a pack of gum or snacks or a can of iced tea you would have to chug outside before you even walked home anyway. 

You start junior high this fall. Your period started this spring. Everything around you is changing. Your legs are stocky and getting fuller. Hair is starting to grow everywhere. Your breasts are no longer flat on your chest and while you know all of this is happening, you know why and what is going to happen, that doesn’t change how awful all this feels. Your baby fat isn’t baby fat anymore, and the oils of your skin, your hair, your smell? It all is changing so fast and you hate it. You want to hide. And at least having this boy down the street to talk to, Wonwoo, who makes you feel less like you want to crawl outside of yourself. 

Him, and all the books you’ve been reading. Ones where they’re older, girls who you’ll be like soon. Who go to school, and date and have families with problems just like your family has problems. Who run into the woods and fall in love with other families. Who find belonging. There’s comfort there, and that’s why despite all your promises to make the house clean for your mom this morning, you forgot. Because you’d fallen into the world of your book. 

And now, your mother has told you that you can’t go to your sleepover anymore. Can’t get away from the house and the heat and your body and the ongoing argument you know your parents are having about finances that they shout about when you’re in the shower and they think you can’t hear them. You can’t eat fun secret snacks or talk about boys or pretend for a second that this isn’t your life. Because it is.  

Your throat closes up, the dim lights of the hallway outside the bathroom feel like they’re flickering. 

“I told you. I reminded you multiple times! Now we don’t have dinner. Unless you’d like to think of something?” She strips off her stockings, balling them up in her fist. “Unless you want to go out there and buy some expensive meal for us tonight?” 

Shame. This is it in its purest form. How wrong you are for not helping. For spending the whole day in your fantasy world with your new friends, ones who aren’t real. All your mother asked for was such simple things, and yet you are unable to just do what she asks. 

“When your father gets home, you can tell him why there’s no dinner ready.” 

Hot tears sting your eyes and you gasp for air. Your father? If he’s having a hard day today, if his boss or his co-workers didn’t recognize him for that presentation he spent all those late nights at the dinner table preparing, you know how this will end. Your father is a fair man, but even he has his limits. 

And sometimes that means that the things you love, the things that you covet, they go missing. Precious dolls that you’ve had over the years have disappeared when you were being careless with them, leaving them around in the hallway for him to step on. Once,  you left your birthday gift from your aunt, a purple Skip-It, on the sidewalk during a Spring rain shower and when you went to bring it in, it had vanished. 

You’d found it in the garbage bin, the ankle loop and cord snapped into pieces. 

When your father gets home, he’ll go for your book. He knows just which one it is. You had started it last night and he asked you about it. 

You push off the wall of the hallway, swallowing the bile down your throat. You have to hide it, to take it somewhere. 

You want to leave. Your eyes dart around the room. Anywhere but here, you can’t let him see how much more embarrassing it is now that he knows you’re anxious. A lump in your throat continues to constrain the air. You can feel your pulse in it, pulling acid up from the depths of your stomach. 

You rip another breath from your chest and try to propel yourself across the room, across the universe, but your feet won’t budge. Your muscles are locked in this bump of panic, leaden and unyielding. 

Somewhere in the fuzziness, Seokjin has moved but already returned, and you feel a set of cool hands on your cheeks as he comes into focus, gently stroking behind your ears and saying something to you. 

“–ow that it’s hard but I need you to breathe, Y/N. Breathe with me. Can you do that?”

His face is concerned, and it twists your stomach even further. He shouldn’t be doing this. You should remember how to fucking breathe on your own. But then again, isn’t that why he’s here anyway? Because you can’t do shit on your own? Can’t hold boundaries, can’t stay in school or keep it together. Can’t live somewhere nicer where you don’t smell the stomach-turning stench of the sink’s old plumbing next to you, metallic and stale. And definitely can’t even remember how to mind your business or breathe like a person. 

You rush down the hall, into the living room, snapping the book off the couch. You shove it behind a cushion. 

Your father walks in the door, and from the look on his face, you can tell the presentation didn’t go well. 

“What’s all this?” he snaps, and gestures to the left-out vacuum and the bucket of water you’d gathered earlier. All the bubbles from the soap have long popped, leaving a heavy, sickening floral scent in the room from the solution. 

“I, oh–”

“Your daughter spent all day reading instead of doing her chores. So unless you have a McDonald’s hamburger in your briefcase, we have nothing for dinner.” Your mother interjects, huffing as she heads into your parents bedroom and slams the door behind her.  

Your father’s eyes narrow, and this is how it begins. He and your mother slamming, stomping, hitting, and crashing in every interaction they have with an inanimate object around you.

He chucks his suitcase onto the table of the small dining area, then whips open the fridge door a few feet away. 

“Y/N, come here.” 

You tiptoe in behind him, needing desperately to do the opposite of him, to show that you aren’t mad that they’re mad. That you understand exactly what you did wrong. 

But it doesn’t matter, does it? They’re going to show you anyway. He moves aside and you peer into the fridge. 

“What do you see in there?” he asks, restrained. 

“Um, some celery, lettuce, dressing, milk…”

He growls, indicating that this isn’t the right answer. You’re wrong again. “Food, Y/N. This is food. That your mother and I work hard to put on the table so you can sit around and read your books. Food that needs to be eaten. Do you understand?” 

You say nothing. You know the question is rhetorical. 

“So, when we ask so little of you to simply take the food out of the freezer or fridge and thaw it, how can it be so hard? Hm? Here let me show you.” 

He reaches in, and begins pulling and pulling the veggies, marinades, dressings, milk, eggs, cheeses and meats, and crowding the counter top. You’re frozen, unable to walk away, to ask him to stop. 

When he’s done, he looks at you. 

“See? Not so hard, huh? And if you were helpful to us, none of this would have happened. Honestly, your selfishness sometimes,” he says. “Now, go get me that book of yours. I think you know you haven’t earned it right now.” 

You should go peel it out from under the couch cushions. Should hand it to him, then put all the groceries back away, because you know he’s not going to do it with you here. You should apologize. Accept punishment.

But instead, you’re nauseous and shaking and sobbing. 

He waits expectedly. And then he shoves past you to your room, beginning to hunt through your clothes on the floor, under your bed. 

“Where is it Y/N?” 

You don’t follow him. Instead, you run. You grab the book from behind the cushion, shove your shoes onto your feet and run into the heat of the ending day with it in your hands, the heat from the sidewalk still boiling up underneath you. 

Your parents don’t run out the door or into the street behind you. They stay in your home, possibly putting it back together. But you don’t care. You run, until you see the light of the convenience store and your lungs feel like they’re going to collapse. 

Inside the cool air, Wonwoo is helping his father place drinks from their crates into the refrigerator. His eyes are wide as you plow in. 

You have so much you want to tell him, so much worry in your chest. Your cheeks are hot and your body is sweaty. Nothing is coming out. Just the hum of the fridges, and Wonwoo’s father rushing to get his mother. 

“Are you okay?” Wonwoo asks, and you can’t do anything to answer, just stare at his soft face as you well up with tears. You shove the book toward him wordlessly. 

“Y/N, what’s going on?” he asks again, and you inhale steeply but choke on the air. A bubble of saliva clods your tongue. 

“Please, take this. Hide it,” you urge. He holds his hands out and takes the book. 

“Um, okay. Tuck Everlasting, I’ve never read this one.” He looks back up at you and winces. 

“Hey, hey, breathe Y/N. You need to breathe.” 

Seokjin is standing in front of you, coaxing breaths from you, wasting his time after cooking you dinner like it’s something you deserve. Like you’re not just doing all of this anyway because you can’t control yourself to not have feelings for him. Tears singe your eyes and you gasp another shallow breath. 

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. I’m not mad. I promise I’m not mad.” Seokjin breaks through your thoughts, his voice gentle, and almost like he hears you in this silent exchange, some constant that is numbing this spiral. You feel yourself inhale a little more fully as you understand he’s not upset or annoyed. “Good, you’re doing good. Let’s breathe another breath, okay?” 

You can’t look away. Even if you wanted to, Seokjin’s touch is keeping you focused completely on him, his soft and kind eyes, his plush lips that he’s holding in a slight frown that won’t shake. One that you can tell is worry. 

“Another breath, sweetheart. Good, good girl. That’s really good, Y/N. Okay, keep doing that for a second okay?” One hand releases from your cheek, and you find yourself pressing harder into the other, needing him to touch you and keep guiding you back, needing that security of him. 

He doesn’t move it away, in fact he pushes himself closer, holds the weight of you in his palm tenderly, and then you see in your periphery what he moved to get: a glass of water. 

“I want you to take three small sips of this for me, okay? Slowly.” He holds the rim of the cup up to your lips, tilting it slightly. You open your mouth slightly, letting a trickle of cold water flood into the hot cavern of your mouth, extinguishing so much of the tight, fiery panic that moves through the rest of your body. 

You do as he says, sipping and swallowing slowly until he pulls the glass away and sets it down behind you. 

“You with me?” he whispers, and you breathe. 

“Yes,” you say. 

“Can I touch your arm?”

You’re not sure why he’s asking, so you knit your brow and gaze up at him, confused. 

“What?”

“Can I touch your arm? I want to move us out of the kitchen and into your bedroom if that’s okay?” His voice is still quiet, and you realize that the hum of the light is so loud it’s almost drowning him out, almost drowning you again. 

Your eyes flash wide and you nod. You see him relax a little, and slowly Seokjin untangles the web of your bodies away from the kitchen, into the cool air of your living room. Why is it so cold? 

Seokjin guides you through it, and through the doorway to your bedroom. Before you even realize it, he’s unbuttoning his pink shirt and draping it over you. 

“Is this okay? You’re shaking.” 

You go to tell him yes, of course it’s okay, and then notice your teeth are gritted tight from trying not to chatter. 

You take another breath. “Yes,” you squeak. 

He pulls down the duvet and gestures for you to sit. “I’m going to put this blanket on you so I can help you warm up.” You feel the soft, heavy weight and start to feel a little better. But without Seokjin holding you, tethering you back into your body, you feel like you might float away any second. You shoot him a panicked look and he seems to understand, drawing the blanket back so he is also swaddled in it, the two of you knee to knee as he pinches the blanket closed with his fist. 

“You can touch me if you’d like,” he says, and this, you realize, is what you need. 

You immediately shift forward, putting your face into his white t-shirt, inhaling that minty, fresh cologne he wears. You can feel his chest rising and falling slowly, evenly, and you match your breathing to his, hoping soon your heartbeat slows to the same rate. Your hands twist into his shirt but it’s not enough. You find one of his hands and take it, lacing your fingers together and resting them in your lap. 

The heaviness is nice, stabilizing, but you know you still need something more. 

“Seokjin?” Your voice sounds foreign to you. 

“Yeah?” 

“Will you hold me for a minute?” 

His hand untangles from yours and he moves to place it around your back, but with you two cross legged and facing each other, it’s an awkward embrace. 

“I’m sorry, this is such a weird position. If you’re okay with it, you can sit in my lap? If you want? And then I can just hold you for a second?” 

You nod and sit up, unfolding your legs and wiggling yourself up so you are on his lap. You wrap your legs around his back, then your arms. And then you feel his arms around you, his fingers lazily tracing the length of your spine. 

You feel yourself sinking deeper back into the safety of your body. 

You both sit like this for a long time. So long that you feel yourself starting to grow hazy and sleepy. Seokjin is warm and soft and so soothing. You feel like you’re untangling from a sharp web that has been trapping you for a long time. And when your alarm for your stream goes off, you turn off your phone. 

“You okay?” Seokjin asks and you huff out a sigh. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry for all the dramatics.” You slide yourself out of his grip and flop back onto your bed, propping yourself up on your elbow. 

“What do you mean? You weren’t being dramatic, Y/N, you had a panic attack.” 

“Yeah, over asking you a highly personal question I shouldn’t have asked. I’m sorry for that too.” 

“I’m not-it’s-look. Panic attacks aren’t ever just one thing. It’s always a compounding of stress and anxiety and other thoughts and feelings. You just came across the one thought or feeling that forced everything to collapse. And I can guess based on how much you’re apologizing, it was probably you doing that shit inside and beating yourself up that knocked all the rest of this stuff down. I told you, I’m not mad. Or insulted that you asked.” 

He goes on. “Which, by the way, I’m not bi or gay. I’m very straight. But that’s not the point. The point is, you have nothing to be ashamed of. You asked me a question. I have a right to choose to answer it or not. So there’s your answer. And also, you are never dramatic to me. Panic attacks are fucking scary; you felt like you were dying, right?” 

You nod. “Drowning, yeah.” 

He gives you a sympathetic smile. “Yeah, those things are no joke. But you came out on the other side of it.”

“Not without your help though. You seem like you know a lot about these when they happen. Do you get them too?” 

He flushes. “Uh, no, I don’t personally. My friend Yoongi has them sometimes. He taught me a lot about how to help him with them. The cold water trick really is from him. And then also when Soon Yi and I were together, she would have them, but those were a bit different.” He looks down at his hands. 

Soon Yi. So that’s her. The person Seokjin has often stopped himself talking about. The one who his parents would occasionally refer to as “that woman” during shifts when he wasn’t around. No one ever said her name, almost like she was some kind of curse and you always were curious why. You assumed she must be the devil incarnate the way his mother would sling a bunch of insults after she was mentioned, but the way Seokjin now says her name so casually, so personally, you aren’t entirely sure if he sees her that way. 

Parents usually carry a greater grudge than their child who was hurt. Your own father has told you on various occasions that the guy you dated for one summer in undergrad, who coincidentally is his barber’s nephew, will never be allowed in his house ever again. Forget the fact that there’s no reason he would be invited over in the first place. Whenever you’re catching up with your parents on the phone, if he has recently visited his barber, he’s sure to bring it up. “Scum is never allowed in my house! He will just drag his filth in with him!”

Thinking of your father and mother right now forces you to wince. Maybe it’s the freshness of these memories, of you realizing now that what happened to you that day as a child wasn’t you being dramatic, as they had insisted even after you’d gotten home. Everything had been put back into place when you’d returned after the sunset, even the bucket and vacuums put away. Your parents never apologized or talked about it again. 

And your friend, she didn’t talk to you after that either, claiming you were flaky and rude for blowing her off. 

Your father doesn’t even refer to your ex by name, similar to Seokjin’s mother. “That Woman”. “Scum”. If there was ever a name tied to these people, it’s clearly gone in the haze of whatever angry frenzy your parents carry. “Scum” also didn’t even do anything wrong. You broke things off with him, but because you came home crying after the breakup, now that is his legacy. 

But Seokjin’s mother, how she behaves, you’re not sure that it’s for the same reasons. You’ve seen firsthand how much she adores her children, and “adoration” is a word you aren’t so sure applies to your family.

Soon Yi, too, it’s clear she was not just a blip on the screen in Seokjin’s life. The hushed, angry chatter between his parents, the way his mother would often get so worked up she would start punching her shoulder and clicking her tongue, saying she needed to go sit down. That’s not a Scum-level relationship. You wonder how close she was to Seokjin. Closer than you two are becoming, clearly. 

“Soon Yi,” you repeat to yourself, still lost in the haze of putting things together.

“Um, my ex.” Seokjin says, and you feel heat rise in your cheeks as you realize he heard you. “We were engaged. For a while.” 

“Oh.”

You want to ask how long he means by a while? Did they break up right before you joined the restaurant? Or was this from many years ago? It’s odd in a way to think of how Seokjin has lived a completely different life from the time before you knew him. He loved someone, enough to marry them, to start a life together, to know she had panic attacks and how to help her. 

Did he place her in his lap the same way he did with you? Did he sit with her in the dull winter light of their bedroom and talk like this? 

He had to have. Why wouldn’t he? Your stomach dips. Were you under some impression that this thing you’re experiencing–the closeness of his body, the soft thrum of his heart, that tiny whistle in his throat that breaks through the room as he speaks–would be special?   

The dim light of the lamp on your bedside table makes the deep browns of his eyes look even darker, and he watches you as you stretch your legs out in front of you, your foot shifting a bit to rest up against his thigh. His eyes flicker toward it and then back to you.

“How, when did you guys break up? I didn’t know you were engaged,” you ask gently. He sighs, and then slumps a bit, the careful, rigid posture he was holding for so long finally loosening a bit with his exhale. He bends his knees and pulls his legs up, glancing to the other side of your bed. 

You pat the spot next to you, turning over so he knows it’s no imposition. 

And it’s not, not in the slightest. If you weren’t so fried and exhausted after that panic attack, your brain might try to imbue some innuendo into this moment, but for now, this is all you can do, and you want that ache in your stomach to go away. You want to feel like this is special. 

Seokjin flops down into the pile of oddball plushies and pillows next to you and you snort, smiling as he carefully tucks the plushie he smashed in his landing into his arms. 

“I’m sure my parents have talked about her enough times for you to know everything,” he scoffs. 

“Not really. I didn’t know her name. I just thought she was some girlfriend you had that she hated because she was keeping you away from her. You know, the same way your mother also says that the really old lady down the road who sells flowers keeps your dad away from her.”

He smirks at this, and his fingers rove over the marble eyes of the plushie. 

“My mother would blame the sun if it kept her family away from her. She’s been messaging the group chat nonstop for updates from my hyung’s wife about the pregnancy. And she’s supposed to be somewhere in Iceland right now on a cruise. Honestly I wish she would just enjoy herself.” 

“Well, she cares. About you especially. Which is maybe why she didn’t air all of your business to me when I was mopping the floors and she counted down the drawers. She just would say that I would be better than “That Woman” but I think she might think anyone would be better than her.” 

“She said that to you? Ugh, eomma.”

She did, one late night, when Seokjin left early for “something urgent”. His mother alleged that he was dating a secret new girlfriend that he kept under wraps. 

“Honestly, he acts as if I’m going to eat her alive or something. Tsk. That son of mine, both he and his brother are going to send me to an early grave. Behind my back like this when I’m getting older by the minute. Ever since he and that woman broke up, he shut down. I tried to set him up with someone and he kept saying no! That he would find someone. But if she was any better than the others, wouldn’t he have brought her around by now,” she’d said.  

She slammed some coins back into the register. You jumped at the sound. 

She sighed. “You know what he needs? Someone like you. Someone with vision! That woman never had any of that. So much more focused on status. You’re not like that Y/N. I can tell. And that’s exactly why I hired you. You can’t teach someone that as an adult. They either have it or don’t, and you. You’ve got exactly it.” 

You didn’t really know what “it” was, but you didn’t argue, and soon she moved on to complain about something else. 

Now, knowing Seokjin’s secret, you think you know where he went that night, and it definitely wasn’t to go hide in his lover’s house. Chances were, he was streaming. And that also would explain why he shut down on her so quickly. You can’t imagine Mrs. Kim’s reaction if she found out Seokjin was a gay cam streamer. Despite being straight.  

It dawns on you. You’d been so distracted with that panic attack that you forgot already that Seokjin is in fact interested in women. Solely. Enough to have been engaged to one. 

“But, back to your story,” you prod, trying to distract yourself from the fact that now none of this feels like just friends sharing. Seokjin hisses in some air as if he agrees. 

“Right. Well, Soon Yi and I were together really in college and on. We started dating really young. Just two kids. And then we just kind of stuck together? She and I were together for a long time before I got the nerve to propose. And then…” He trails off, his face now a deeper blush. Is he embarrassed? 

You lick your lips, ready to tell him he doesn’t have to share, but he waves his hand to quiet you. 

“She cheated on me. With my boss. We were in the midst of planning the wedding and everything. I was supposed to get this big promotion at the end of some large conferences. But, I don’t know. We had grown apart. Suddenly we didn’t see eye-to-eye on anything.”

Your jaw drops, caught on that larger detail. “She cheated on you with your boss? After all that time? God, Seokjin, I'm so sorry. That’s awful.”

He smiles and nods. “That’s not even the worst part,” he says. His smile grows bigger, like this is some huge joke. “She cheated on me multiple times with him while I was away. And I caught them. Uh, you know. On my dining room table when I came back early to surprise her. I did not get the promotion by the way. But, she actually has a baby, or I guess a toddler, with him now. I heard she’s pregnant again, they’re married. It’s all some surreal life. And now I’m here.” 

“Um, you’re right, it was worse than that.” You’re really not sure what to say. Seokjin’s becoming harder to read by the second, turning this conversation into some big joke when it’s not really funny to you on your end. Maybe he’s processed it enough by now, but based on how tightly he’s now squeezing your alpaca plushie, you would wager that he doesn’t really find it funny either. 

“Is this,” you take a breath. “Is this why the other night you said you were a failure? Because of what happened with Soon Yi?” 

“Partly. I mean, it’s not like I did too great of a job keeping her satisfied. She clearly found other ways to do that.” He laughs darkly. 

“That’s not how that works you know,” you say. His eyebrows lift. 

“What do you mean?”

“What you just said. Keeping her satisfied. Isn’t it the job of being a human to keep ourselves satisfied? Find things with meaning and joy? It’s not your fault that she chose to do that. To cheat on you, to not be honest when she started feeling differently. She could have told you at any point. Did she?” 

He sighs. “Not really, no. Soon Yi wasn’t great at communicating with me about things like that. For so long, we just knew what the other person needed. Because we’d been together since we were so young, we had come up with some other kind of language. And my friends, too, they were in on it. She was not always going to tell someone how she felt but she would show them. For Jungkook’s 21st birthday she threw him an “American Stereotype” themed birthday which he was always obsessing over from the videos. Bought a bunch of red solo cups, they played that Miley Cyrus song and bought a bunch of discounted Fourth of July partyware. She was one of us.”

Even now, despite everything, Seokjin is speaking so kindly about someone who hurt him. And honestly, it throws you. You are so used to the men you’ve been around talking so poorly of their exes that you didn’t know someone could experience such a negative thing and not immediately resort to extreme name calling. 

That’s just how good Seokjin is. Enough to not be mad at you for asking questions, for panicking. Enough to speak kindly about others even if it might be eating at him. 

“That doesn’t mean it was your fault though,” you stifle a yawn. He cocks an eyebrow. 

“Maybe we should shelve this conversation for another time,” he says. 

“No, no, I want to hear. I want to know all of it.”

“You were supposed to start your scheduled stream an hour ago.” 

“Change of plans. I’m not streaming tonight.”

“Do your subs know that?” 

“Don’t call them that. They’re subscribers not subs. Sub is something you do.”

Jesus. Please don’t let him cling to that. Please don’t let that give away that I know. 

“Pfft. Okay, do your subscribers know you’re not streaming anymore?”

You roll your eyes, knowing he’s created this distance on purpose and now the moment has passed. 

Fine, you’ll get more from him about this eventually. You need to understand how Soon Yi impacted him. You don’t really know why, but you can’t help but feel like knowing more might make you feel less uneasy about all of this. About you and Seokjin and what this could all maybe mean someday. 

“I can post about it,” you say softly and he nods. 

“That might be a good idea. You’ve had a big day. A big panic attack, you probably need some sleep.” 

Your stomach sinks at the idea that he might leave after this, and you’re still not sure you want to be alone. You chew your lip.“What I really need is some pizza,” you say. 

Seokjin smirks. “Good thing for you, I know exactly where we can find some.”  

“Thank you again for the pizza,” you said, nibbling on the edge of one crust. “I didn’t think I could be that hungry after eating so much earlier.”

Seokjin took another swig of beer, shrugging. “Well, you’ve had a big day, and you burned energy and probably calories earlier.” 

Your panic attack may have seemed to you like it was coming out of nowhere, but to Seokjin, it wasn’t. He had noticed your embarrassment the second after you asked him that question, saw you spiral inside yourself as you tried to huff air. He wasn’t sure what really triggered it, but he also knew he didn’t want to leave you after that. 

He wasn’t unfamiliar to them. Yes, Yoongi had his share, and it took a little while to learn what ways he could be soothed. Soon Yi’s were different, though. A lot more similar to yours. 

When they had started experimenting sexually, there would be times in which she would fall so quickly into panic, like she couldn’t give up control. And from that point on, sometimes she would spiral deeper, into some pit of shame where whatever they were doing, even if it wasn’t super kinky, led to these shaking, sub-drop-like breakdowns. They were more rare, but they did happen, especially earlier in their relationship. 

At the time, Seokjin didn’t understand what was going on, and neither did Soon Yi. Just that she sometimes would flip on him during foreplay when he would get a little more confident and dominant, or if he started falling into a scene that she had asked them to do, using the script the way she asked, it would happen anyway. Almost like she was fighting between what she wanted and who she expected herself to be. 

And that’s in a way how you seemed to be too. Maybe you weren’t like this sexually, and he would unpack that idea later. But in this intimate space of your home, it was like Seokjin was experiencing some type of whiplash as you went from being so uncomfortable about asking about his sexuality to you lying next to him in your bed talking about his ex. 

He wasn’t mad, not in the slightest. He understood that especially after a panic attack, people were desperate for closeness and intimacy, and whatever reaction he had to your panic, you felt soothed and safe with him. He was being let into your world little by little, even if you were fighting yourself to let it happen. 

He wanted that. He wanted this: you two eating cold pizza on the floor of your living room, you chewing happily and Seokjin warm and full of life watching you do it. 

You even let him make adjustments to your space, laughing and applauding him after he ripped some of the clean cardboard from one of the pizza boxes and made shims to prop up and balance your oven and fridge. He found if he scooted the couch slightly to the left and your entertainment system got turned a few inches, you could completely see the TV from anywhere on the couch. You dove to the other side almost immediately, whooping when you realized you wouldn’t have to strain yourself to see anymore. 

You were comfortable. He made you comfortable. 

“Yeah, I guess that’s true,” you said, your hand caressing over the soft roll of your stomach to demonstrate how full you were. Then, a deep burp echoed into the room. Your eyes widened. “Oh, wow, sorry. Excuse me,” you said suppressing a chuckle. 

But Seokjin was already laughing, his body shaking at the sound. “So polite for someone who made that noise.” 

The tenseness in your shoulders fell and you gave in, laughing next to him. “Listen! It was good, and the carbonation of the beer is making me have to burp!” 

“Sure, sure. That’s what it is. You know I’ve seen those memes about how women don’t fart or burp or poop and I’m onto you! You have one strike. If you fart or shit I’m going to prove that meme false.” 

You scoff, tears leaking out the side of your eyes. “Well good thing for you, I will not deny those allegations. I don’t just poop, I shit.” 

Seokjin choked on his next sip of beer, spluttering some of it out of his nose. “Oh shit.” Tears flowed from his eyes from the sting, and he grasped for some napkins near the pizza. 

You weren’t much better off, coughing heavily into your shirt as you tried to recover. This, this was everything he could ever want. Afterward, you both cleaned up the kitchen and pizza together, finishing off the six-pack of beer until your yawns were impossible to ignore. 

“It’s really late, Y/N. You should go to sleep,” he said. He hated himself for suggesting it, almost wishing that you would extend the invitation to stay. Even then, though, he would have to decline.

“Or we could, I don’t know, play a game or something?” As you said this, you stifled another yawn. 

He chuckled. You were stalling, he could tell. And he wasn’t strong enough to say no. “Hm, okay how about this. We can hang out in your room and I’ll tell you more about me. But you have to get ready for bed first, otherwise it’s no deal.” 

Your eyelids were heavy, but you beamed anyway. “Yeah, okay.”

You went into your room, grabbing some clothes before shutting yourself into the bathroom to get ready. Seokjin paced your living room, scanning the book shelves, a variety of titles he’d never seen before in the stacks. But there was one, a smaller and thinner book that had more wear and tear than the rest. He slid it out carefully and held it in his hands. Tuck Everlasting, a book he’d read in elementary school about a teenager who met a family that drank from a tree’s magical spring and lived forever. 

Based on your copy, he could tell it was well-loved and read many times. How old were you when you read it, he wondered. Did you want to run away into the woods like he did afterward, trying to find a magical spring of your own? 

The bathroom door opened, and he carefully slotted the book back onto the shelf before turning to you. You were wearing an oversized T-shirt and some very, very short pajama shorts. Your legs looked so soft to touch. His hand twitched.

“Okay,” you said, “I’m ready.” 

Seokjin wasn’t. But he followed you into the darkness of your room anyway, laid himself down next to you on the bed as you tucked yourself under the blankets. Your eyes shimmered as you looked at him, now way more awake than you had appeared just ten minutes ago. 

Were you hustling him? 

“You need to crawl under the blankets too. Otherwise they’ll constrict me and I will absolutely not fall asleep like you have clearly planned,” you tease. 

You were hustling him. He liked it. 

He chuckled and obeyed, folding back the comforter and sheets to get in. But in doing so, he revealed you with your shorts already bunched up on your thighs, exposing your lacy panties at your hip. Your shirt was riding up, and he could see a tiny bit of your stomach peeking out. 

God fucking help him. He managed a deep breath, begging himself not to get hard, or for his body to at least wait until you wouldn’t see him getting hard and he was under the covers. This wasn’t the time. Not after all the emotionality of the day. But his dick didn’t know that. 

Your covers smelled like you, soft and even a little sweet and you really had to be fucking with him because you shoved yourself even closer to him under the covers, so that there were just a few inches between you two. He felt your body heat radiating from you. 

“There,” you sighed, and he smelled a hint of your mint toothpaste. His mouth watered. “Now, where were we?”

No, but where were you really? He didn’t remember, didn’t know where to start. And then it clicked. 

“Mmm, you were going to go to sleep I think,” he said. 

You frowned, your nose wrinkling. “No, that’s not true. Or it was. I’m not tired now.” 

“Give it a minute, I’m sure soon your eyelids won’t be able to stay open.” 

“Sure, but yours are heavy now too. So you must be tired. Now it’s a competition.” You were right. His eyelids were heavy, and he was tired. But he knew his body, especially as keyed up as he was getting, wasn’t about to let him fall asleep any time soon. 

“I think I’ll win that one,” he laughed lightly. 

“Doubt it,” you challenged, and you shifted your legs, now a little less comfy and more antsy. You slowly released a breath. 

“Are you sure you want to do this right now?” He asked, and you didn’t hesitate to nod. 

“I want to know more about you. It’s nice to put the puzzle pieces of you together in my head.” Your voice was growing husky.

“Okay,” he said.

“Okay,” you replied. A beat passed. Neither of you moved to say anything, just looked at each other. 

Shouldn’t this be awkward? Shouldn’t all of this feel wrong? Somewhere in his mind, the logical response was yes, this is weird and he should leave. But then he would be leaving you after a hard day, when you clearly were trying to avoid him leaving by going so far as to keep yourself awake to stare at him. To try to get to know him. And that’s what rooted him now. He couldn’t leave even if he wanted to. Maybe you were only being needy. But he also felt needy right now. And for the moment, logic could fuck off. 

So he pushed it away, letting the parts of him he liked most bubble to the surface, the parts that led without overthinking and just acted on what he wanted. 

He moved slightly closer to you, and you blanched, a little taken aback, but you recovered quickly. “

I’m cold,” you said. He knew it was a lie. He could feel the heat of you. 

“Here,” he replied, and he pulled the blanket open slightly so you could wiggle forward, resting yourself against his chest. 

He angled himself carefully, trying so hard to avoid the rest of your bodies touching, but it was impossible, so he pulled you closer, letting every part of you rest against him. 

“Tell me,” you muttered.

“What should I tell you?” he whispered back. 

“I don’t know. Anything.” You were fading quickly, and he was relieved. Sad that he would have to go soon, but relieved that you were finally resting. 

“Okay,” he said, even softer. “I think if I ever drank from a magical spring, I would do a better job hiding it than the Tuck family did.” 

You hummed in response, and then he felt your head nod into his chest as you fell fully asleep. 

©2024 by jooniperbonsai

[ashwhowrites]

can you do prompt 26 with eddie? eddie and reader has a daughter but reader feels like he’s never home anymore and feels like he’s putting his band before his family. he comes home late after not being home for a week and they get into a big fight. i love ur writing🤍

Of course!

Thank you so much for your patience :) I hope it was worth the wait and what you wanted. If not, please let me know so I can rewrite it.

Y/N poured herself a second glass of wine for the night, still waiting for Eddie to come home. He was meant to be home at 5, and the clock was hitting 9.

When she heard the door open, she took a deep breath.

"Baby, I'm home." Eddie said as he walked through the kitchen with a huge smile on his face. He went to kiss Y/N's lips, but she pulled away.

"Sit. "We need to talk." He frowned at her harsh words.

"Geez, not even a hello? Can I at least talk to my daughter?" He scoffed as he headed to the stairs.

"She's at Steve's for the night." She spoke, causing Eddie to sigh and walk back to the kitchen.

He sat across from her, and she looked into his eyes. The brown that she fell deeply in love with did not have the same spark. They were black and dull, probably from alcohol or drugs.

"What do we need to talk about?" He asked as he leaned back in his chair with his arms crossed.

"Eddie, you have been home from tour for two weeks, and not once have you spent a full day at home—barely even an evening with me and your daughter. You leave and do not come back for hours. You reak of weed and the bar. " 

"I'm sorry that I want to visit my other friends and family that I missed when I was away."

"Eddie, don't do that. Do not sit here and act as if I forced you to be here. You have been home, and you have seen every single friend you have in this state. And you are meeting them at bars? Half of them do not even drink. So tell me what you really have been doing." The accusation hung in the air.

"Are you trying to hint at something here?" Eddie glared as he leaned forward in his chair.

"Are you cheating on me?" There it was; she asked it. Eddie could not believe she would think that low of him.

"No, I am not fucking cheating on you; how dare you ask me that?"

"Because you are never fucking here. I have raised our daughter on my own since she was fucking born. I feel like I don't even have a husband." She scoffed as she stood from her chair. Pacing around the kitchen

"Don't do that. You knew what you were signing up for when you married me. You knew I wanted to be a rock star. That was my dream: to tour around the world. So don't sit here and act like we didn't have this discussion. Stop being so fucking selfish." His voice was slightly rising as anger began to travel through his body.

"Signed up for this? No, Eddie, I signed up to marry my best friend, the love of my life, to have the family that I always dreamed of. I signed up to give him the daughter he always wanted, and he barely acknowledges her. I signed up to feel loved, supported, and appreciated, none of which I have felt since you left for that fucking tour last year. You were gone for 8 months, and now it is like you could have cared less to come back home." She could feel her eyes getting wet. She watched him. It didn't even look like her words were hitting him at all.

"So now I'm a shitty husband and father?" She wanted to scream. He was not listening to her.

"No, Eddie, that is not what I fucking said." She yanked her hair with her hands. eyes clenched tight.

"So then what are you saying?" He asked as he threw his hands in the air.

"You’re not the same person I married; don’t tell me I’m wrong. My Eddie wanted a family—a family he wanted to love and support. Whoever is in front of me is not him. This new Eddie doesn't bother to kiss me goodnight anymore. never home for dinner. Fuck, we haven't been on a date or made love in a fucking year. Your daughter asks for you every night. You stopped reading her bedtime stories. You stopped bringing her to school. You stopped loving us. You only love that fucking band, which should have never been more important than your family. I am going to take a bath and go to bed. Figure out what you want to prioritize in your life. Either coming home to your family or the drugs, alcohol, and groupie sluts to spend your nights with." She barked out as she raced out of the kitchen. She was fucking done.

Eddie sat in his chair, her words ringing in his head. He felt like his throat was closing in on him. He messed up; he knows that. Having dinner with his two girls was the highlight of his days, and now he doesn't even remember the last time he asked them how their days were. He really did become a terrible husband and father. And he had no one to blame except himself. He could feel the water stinging in his eyes. so disappointed in himself for becoming the exact man he never wanted to be.

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