progress on my painting from a while ago
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i feel like i need to set boundaries. for my own sake.
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𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐛𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭 pt. i ✧ ˚ · . 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫
summary: something that is desired all the more because it is not allowed—you find yourself torn between the idea that even though eddie is in a position of authority as your professor, he’s still what you crave the most.
cw: 18+ (minors, dni) teacher/student relationship, age gap (21 & 29), corruption!kink (eddie is well aware of what he’s doing), background ronance, max is readers bestfriend, eddie likes to wear his hair up for class and hates being formal, bratty!reader (sorta), angsty touches, a smutty cliffhanger, ect & lots more to come (pun intended)
word count: 11.6k - part two, part three, part four
The campus was huge and crowded and everything you hated all wrapped into one—but you couldn’t beat the view, the pleasant Indians weather, and all the amazing classes the college had to offer. And normally, first days would be terrifying, crippling your anxiety, but there was nothing but excitement; for now, at least.
Most of your morning was spent combing through syllabuses and trying to find your classes, which is mostly your own fault, deciding on a major so vastly different from your main course work—by the time afternoon rolls around, you’re forced to walk clear across campus, nearly ten minutes late to your class and faced with a surprisingly unirritated gentleman, who’s three seconds away from shutting the door closed indefinitely.
The man steals a glance at his watch, arm twitching slightly to force his sleeve back. His eyes glance up to you for a moment and back down, “Not a great way to start off your first day,” He comments cooly, face void of any emotion, “is this gonna be a habit?”
“No—god, no,” You respond, slightly out of breath, hand clutching the strap of your book bag, “I’m just getting used to where everything’s at—I didn’t get a chance to visit the campus earlier, I have no idea where anything is or—“
“It’s fine,” He assures, beckoning you into the classroom, surprisingly full, forcing you to the front row, positioned almost directly in front of his desk—this was the beginning of your nightmare, “let’s just be mindful of time, yeah?”
Not that Eddie has ever been punctual a day in his life. But, he’s learned that being a hard-ass is more effective than not giving a shit at all, especially when it comes to his students.
“Yeah—yes, I promise.” You swear, forcing a thin smile before making an immediate line for your desk, hoping that the further you sink, the more unnoticed you’ll be. Unfortunately for you, that wasn’t the case.
The loud slide of the chalk against the chalkboard as he writes his name across the green slab is defeating, most of the class watching in fearful silence—like there was some impending doom about to descend upon them.
“Uh, sir—“ You can see him visibly tense at the word, “are we going to be learning how to play any instruments in this class?” The voice comes from a boy who seems naturally quiet and more reserved, mortified by the fact that he even found the courage to raise his hand and ask a question.
There’s a small roar of laughter from the others, but you look along stoically, watching his face upturn slightly.
“Don’t call me, sir—please,” He laughs lightly, “it makes me feel old.”
“Professor Munson,” He corrects himself, “sorry.”
“You’re fine,” He assures, “and look—this isn’t an intro to music, it’s intro to musical therapy. We’re not just studying instruments and music, we’re also studying behaviors, the mind, how all of this stuff connects and affects people’s thought process and aiding certain struggles they may have.”
His way of talking is animated and refreshing, a stark change from the usual monotone professors you’ve run into all morning.
“So, if you’re just expecting to learn how to play the piano or something, this class probably isn’t for you,” He explains, eyeing down about a quarter of the class that makes a collective groan, “hey—I’m just being honest.”
And you knew you wouldn’t see half of those people in a week, jumping at the first chance to transfer, but you couldn’t help being intrigued. It wasn’t necessarily your first choice for a major, but it took you by surprise; your love for psychology and mind studies mixed with your love of music, it seemed like the perfect storm. Plus, your professor wasn’t the worst person in the world—yet.
He easily snaps open the cuff links to his sleeves, rolling them halfway up his arm, revealing a rather striking depiction of bats, swarming around the expanse of his forearm.
He definitely seemed like a tattoo guy, but it was still odd to see so openly—his feet tap together as he takes a seat on the end of his desk, scanning the room. You can’t help but notice his lopsided tie, wanting so desperately to fix it—it was bound to drive you nuts.
“It’s probably best to get most of your question out of the way today,” He says, “so, shoot them at me while you have the opportunity.”
A few hands fly up, he points off to your right, a couple rows behind you.
“So—are you a therapist?”
He snorts a soft laugh, shaking his head, “No—I don’t have all the proper certifications, but I assist therapist a lot when they’re looking into doing stuff related to musical therapy. I know enough to get by.”
The smile he flashes leads you to believe that he’s trying to be humble.
“Do you play any instruments?” Another student asks freely, the heads of the rest of the class snapping in their direction.
“A few,” He answers, hand waving about in a noncommittal manner, “mostly just guitar.”
He adjusts his tie again, even more lopsided now and you can’t help but stare it down, focused on nothing but the black, shiny material of it—Eddie clears his throat softly, catching your attention.
He’s staring right at you, caught red-handed—quick, think of something—
“Who do you usually work with?” You ask suddenly, “In your line of work, I mean.”
Outside of being a professor, obviously.
Another laugh, more subdued. “Veterans, mostly, and a lot of children.”
Eddie claps his hands together very suddenly, startling most of the class, including yourself. “Anyways, let’s go over the syllabus so there’s no confusion—I don’t need you guys bugging me outside of my office hours, as much as I love to teach.”
You sense another jab coming, but it doesn’t.
The syllabus review is a breeze, setting you up for what most of the semester entails, including when he was available—again, making it very clear that he wasn’t available outside of office hours.
And then he’s adjusting the damn tie again, almost like it’s wringing his neck to death. By the time class ends, he dismisses everyone with a simple wave, a few students lingering around their desks, debating on whether they should drop the class or not.
The voice that trails from the front of the classroom as you take a step down catches your attention, pulling your head up to look at the culprit. “Staying or dropping?” He asks.
Professor Munson. It felt weird and unnatural as it rolled around in your mind, still not falling from your tongue.
“Staying,” You answer surely, “I knew what this class was before I signed up—I’m not about playing roulette with taking a college class.”
“Fair enough.” He’s leaning against his desk again, hands shoved into his slack pockets, shiny, gold watch resting on his wrist, and you can’t take it anymore, the frustration boiling from your chest
“Your tie,” You say abruptly, pointing at the material, “It’s crooked.”
Really fucking crooked.
He takes a glance down, finger slipping in the space between his tie and neck, pulling at the offense piece of clothing, loosening it until it’s snapping away.
He balls up the tie and tosses it behind me, landing messily on his desk. “I never wear those after the first day—hate them. They’re so stupid.”
“Or, you just don’t know how to tie a tie.” You point on, mouth speaking before your brain can catch up—realizing much too late that this was your professor, not a friend.
Eddie scoffs mockingly, “And I’m sure you do.” He counters, watching your face drop slightly.
You did, actually—but that wasn’t the point.
“No one ever taught me.” He tells you, “So I’m wingin’ it.”
You nod thoughtfully, surprised at how quickly you managed to embarrass yourself. “Oh.” You say simply, it’s all you can manage.
You save yourself for further humiliation by offering a wave of goodbye, breaking the uncomfortable tension that had grown between you both, excusing yourself immediately.
And if that was horrible enough, your night would be even worse.
☆.。.:*
“The Hideout?” You ask curiously, twisting the flyer in your hand, “That place is still open?
Max snatches the paper from your hand, shoving it into the pocket of her jacket, protecting her from the biting cold of wind—the beginnings of Hawkins autumn weather creeping up on you.
It didn’t help that you were barely covered from the waist down, skirt leaving little to imagine as the slit ran high up your thigh, thankfully the long sleeve top you wore was enough to save your upper extremities.
“Nancy and Robin swear by that place—plus, they’ll be pissed if you don’t go.” Max explains in her usual ‘could care less’ tone.
The only reason she was going was because of Lucas—a boy she’d met during her first class that day, who she also invited out, despite barely knowing. You couldn’t blame her, though. Max could handle herself well enough, that was for sure.
The drive is long, further out of town than you expect—hidden on some rundown road on an empty corner, bare except for the small bar, yet the place was packed with cars.
“Okay, maybe this place isn’t as rundown as I remember,” You take note of, “or everyone really wanted to get drunk tonight.”
Either way, you were definitely heading toward the latter option, following closely after Max. It doesn’t take long for Max to be pulled away though, quickly distracted by the only reason she came here, abandoning you.
“Have fun,” You remind her, “seriously.”
You could take care of yourself, settling up at one of the empty tables before the stage, perched on the uncomfortably tall seat, ordering yourself a quick drink as a server passes you.
“Hey!” A perked up voice yells out from behind you, arms wrapping around in a gentle hug—no one had the nerve besides Robin, who quickly caught you in a fuller hug as you turned to face her. “How have you been? Where’s Max?”
“She’s busy,” You laugh, giving her a pointed look, which she catches on quickly. “Where’s Nance?”
“Right here,” Her delicate voice peaks out from behind Robin, watching as her hand sneaks into Nancy’s, squeezing firmly.
You smile to yourself, but Robin sees it, shoving you an annoyed look.
At least those two finally figured it out—almost ten years later.
“So, you two know who’s playing tonight?” You ask curiously, sipping on the beer that the server passes to you on their way through the crowd.
“Yeah, he’s an old friend—we haven’t seen him in a while, though.” They both frown at the mention of it, sharing a quiet glance. “We should’ve invited Steve, Nance.”
“He never wants to leave the house, you know that.” Nancy adds, “His kids keep him busy enough.”
And it seemed like Steve got the life he always wanted, for the most part—but it’s still somber to think about, wishing just as badly that you could’ve seen him once more.
“Maybe next time.” You offer, and both of them smile.
“I’ll have to remind him to invite you to his littlest’s party in a couple months,” Nancy says, “he misses you.”
The feedback startled all of you, pulling you from the conversation and toward the stage, light dimly over the center. The lights around the bar dimmed in contrast, adjusting everyone toward the men gathering in their places on stage.
You squinted carefully, watching the guitarist adjust the microphone, pulling it up to his height. His hair was long, unruly, and obscuring his face as he leaned forward, speaking into the microphone.
“How’s everyone doing tonight?” He asks with a decent amount of enthusiasm, receiving a hearty applause in return. “We’re Corroded Coffin.”
The name blanks in your mind, not ringing any immediate bells.
It was definitely a crowd full of fans—or family, at least. They excitement was palpable, everyone leaning on the edge of their seats.
“This is our first show in a couple years, so go easy on us.” He laughs, head flicking up to move the hair out of his face—again, he spots you almost instantly.
The intake of breath is involuntarily, getting caught in your throat. The blush that creeps up your cheeks is hot and burning, noticeable from a mile away.
Eddie fucking Munson, your college professor—of all the chances and fate in the world this is how your night was going to go?
Eddie clears his throat, immediately averting his gaze. “We’re just doing cover songs tonight—so if you’ve got a request, send it through Gareth.” He instructs, jerking his head over his shoulder.
And despite how mortifying this all feels, Eddie plays his heart out; you’ve never seen anything like it. He’s a person who expresses himself through his body and his music, clearly—thrashing wildly and putting every movement he can into his playing, bouncing on his feet. He can’t be bothered to stay still, which is a complete difference from his classroom demeanor.
From what you’ve seen, at least.
“You good?” Robin asks, nothing the ghostly look on your face.
“Yeahyeah, uh—“ You reply distantly, “The lead looked familiar, but I think it’s a coincidence.”
One hell of a fucking coincidence.
“Eddie?” They both ask simultaneously, “There’s no way.”
Eddie Munson. Again, your professor—but also, a friend of a friend, and a complete fucking stranger otherwise. You must’ve pissed someone off well enough down the line to end up in this position; the biggest dose of karma you’ve ever felt.
“Like I said—it’s probably a coincidence.” You assure them, eyes still locked on him.
“Yeah—I don’t think we started hanging out with him until after you moved schools.” Nancy supplies, further attempting to assure you.
Eddie catches another glance at you and you can’t help but down the bottle of beer in one go, immediately leaving your seat to ask for another, leaving your friends to congregate at the table.
The song ends abruptly, falling off of a long guitar solo, and you can’t even dare to look in that direction, faced shoved into the drink you gripped in your hand.
“Come here, come here,” You hear Robin call from behind you, but you know it’s not for you, another rumbling voice slipping through the many others, a weak protest, “Stop being like that.”
There really was no arguing with Robin and Eddie was smart to keep quiet, following her obediently to the bar. The hand that clasps your shoulder is light and gentle and Nancy shoots you an apologetic look as you look behind you.
“Ringin’ any bells now?” Robin asks playfully, holding her hand up under his face, like he was on display. Eddie makes a face, side eyeing her affectionately.
“No, sorry,” You lie easily, shrugging him off. Eddie seems to relax at that, half-expecting you to out both him and yourself—not that there was anything wrong, it was just another freaky coincidence, “What’s his name again?”
And really, it’s just to poke fun, the slight buzz creeping into your system.
“Eddie Munson,” Nancy replies, glancing between the both of you, “Edward, if that helps.”
Eddie rolls his eyes at that, hand held up in desperation as he called out for a drink over your shoulder, reaching around you to grab the bottle. You visibly tense at the proximity and he notices, still, he doesn’t try to move away.
This was too weird.
“Nope, still nothing.” You tell them, sticking to your story.
Robin shrugs, “Well, I should probably explain—Nancy used to babysit her when she was younger, her and Max and all those crazy little kids that we always told you about—“
It made you wince; babysitter, Nancy, kids. It was the worst sequence of words that could’ve been spoken in history, to your professor, in the middle of a bar, that he was also playing at.
“Robin,” You warn, “I’m sure he doesn’t care.”
“Nah,” Eddie shrugs, leaned beside you against the bar, metal chain clinking against the counter-top, lifting the beer to his lips leisurely, “It’s nice to meet you.”
And the smile seems forced, but his voice is steady, easy—you almost believe him.
But, then Nancy and Robin are pulled off in a different direction, catching up with another small group of friends and Eddie is staring at you.
And not secretly—very, very openly.
“I swear I didn’t—“ You start.
“I don’t usually,” He interrupts.
You both take a hard stop, looking each other down.
“You first,” He instructs, bring the drink to his lips once more, “then I’ll go.”
“I swear I didn’t know you were going to be here tonight,” You explain, “otherwise I would’ve skipped out.”
He wants to ask why, but the answer seems obvious—no one wants to see their teacher outside of school.
“I don’t usually make a habit of letting my students see me like this.” He motions to his get-up, hair loose and clothes even looser, aside from the obviously homemade jacket he wore, patches hand stitched and worn at the seams, but the weirdest part of it all—the ripped jeans. It felt out of place for someone nearing their thirties. He catches your gaze, the judgement evident. “My point exactly.”
“So, that’s why you don’t know how to tie a tie.” You challenge, taking a long sip of beer, eyebrow quirked in amusement as you swallow, cheeks puffed out by the liquid.
He scoffs softly, amused at your comeback. “We shouldn’t even be talking right now, you know that?” He points out, yet he hasn’t moved an inch, still close enough that if you decided to separate your thighs, he’d fit perfectly.
You hum quietly, “Yet, you’re still here.” Another beer down, another slipped into your hand like clockwork, throwing it back easily. “So, who’s fault is that?”
Him being the responsible adult and all, not that it really mattered here. This would be a level playing field outside of any other circumstance.
“Wait—can I ask a personal question?” And maybe it was the alcohol talking.
“No—“ He answers quickly, but your brain bypasses it.
“How old are you?” You ask curiously, “You look too young to be a professor.”
Eddie looks stunned, affected by your forwardness, but he takes it in stride. “I’m gonna take that as a compliment—I’m twenty nine, a couple years older than Nancy and Robin.”
You don’t press on the additional information, but nod thoughtfully, taking another quick sip of your beer.
“Sorry—it was bugging me. I have a bad problem with filtering my thoughts.” You admit sheepishly, cheeks flushed from the alcohol, fiddling with the flimsy zipper on your skirt.
“Clearly,” Eddie laughs, bringing the bottle to his lips slowly, stopping just as his lips pressed the rim, “Are you even old enough to be drinking?”
“Are you going to kick me out if I’m not?” You challenge playfully, Eddie doesn’t bite, looking you down accusingly.
It was as if he suddenly shifted back into teacher mode, judging your choices and feeling the need to scold you.
“I’m twenty one,” You tell him, “don’t have a fucking stroke over it.”
You don’t know why Eddie’s eyes shift, scanning full body, like he’s trying to take all of you in—both of your contrasting styles outside of school are a welcomed surprise; he doesn’t really expect it from you. But, you could say the same for him.
“Wasn’t gonna,” He assures you, nursing the beer near his mouth, forearms leaned against the bar now as he looks toward you, eyes catching the way your fingers fiddled with the label on the bottle, “you cold?”
Your leg crosses over the other, goosebumps riddling your skin—it’s like he’s a mind reader, the entrance door of the bar swinging open, a cold blast of air spreading throughout. “Not really.” You lie, gripping the end of your skirt to shift it down.
You could’ve been more practical, shown up in jeans and some worn out band shirt, but you wanted to look nice—feel cute and dressed up for once, was that a crime?
“Hey, there you are,” Max calls from behind you, scattering toward you with a wide-eyed Lucas in tow, “so you met Eddie?”
You turn in your seat, staring the fiery redhead down, a smile plastered on her freckle covered face.
“You too?” You ask incredulously, glancing toward Eddie, who seemed rather unfazed by it all now. “What the hell?”
“He used to live across from me, back in high school,” Max explains, which makes sense.
You moved after middle school, leaving most of Hawkins in your rear view, aside from the occasional letters to Max—both of you swore that despite the distance, college was your nonnegotiable; both of you applied, both of you got accepted, it was some sort of divine miracle, but neither of you questioned it.
“Small world,” Eddie shrugs from beside you, finishing off the last sip of his beer, “you staying out of trouble, Red?”
“Probably not,” She replies honestly, before turning to you sheepishly, “—do you think Robin will give you a ride home?”
“Max,” You groan, her look switching from hesitant to pleading, “fine—whatever, I’ll talk to Robin.”
“I love you,” She says endearingly, wrapping you into a quick forceful hug, nearly knocking you from your chair, “I owe you one.”
“Uh huh,” You reply sarcastically, waving her away, “See you tomorrow.”
When you turn, Eddie is slapping a fresh bill on the counter-top, returning his chained wallet back to his pocket.
“I guess I’ll be seeing you Monday.”
Saying it makes it even weirder.
“I won’t tell anyone.” You assure him, seeing the way his eyes catch yours, almost thankful. He doesn’t have to say it—he didn’t take you for the type to brag, but still, it’s a comforting confession. “I promise.”
The last part feels like too much, but Eddie smiles regardless, adjusting his jacket over his shoulders, preparing for the crisp, cold air that awaits him.
Robin, find Robin. Your brain scrambled, searching around for your friend—or Nancy, but neither of them are anywhere inside of the bar.
You’ve got to be fucking kidding.
“Everything okay?” Eddie asks softly, pulling the hair caught under the lapel of his jacket.
“I think they left,” You frown slightly, preparing yourself to walk several blocks until the nearest bus station, feet already sore and achy from the uncomfortable heels you wore, “Robin and Nance.”
And Eddie has the internal battle with himself for at least half a minute, weighing the odds of how uncomfortable this could be, or how creepy it may come off, but he wasn’t going to leave you high and dry—he wasn’t raised that way.
“Where am I taking you?” He asks suddenly, swinging his keys into his palm.
“Huh?” There was no way you were taking a ride from your teacher, of all people. “—I’m fine, really. I just need to walk far enough to the bus stop.”
“In those?” Eddie asks pointedly, staring down at the heels that hugged your feet like a vice grip, already sore from only a couple hours of use. “It’s not a big deal—are you going back to campus?”
You nod hesitantly.
Eddie motions toward the door and you follow obediently—your feet could thank you later. You knew there was no harm in a ride home, either, Eddie was far from the normal sketchy men around Hawkins, but it didn’t feel right. It felt like keeping a secret from your parents and doing something that had persistently told you not to, or how often the school system looked down on relations with staff outside of school, no matter the level or severity. It seemed that Eddie was hoping you’d keep this to yourself—he was counting on it.
☆.。.:*
“Did you enjoy the music at least?” Eddie asks halfway through the drive, one hand gripping the steering wheel while the other fishes for his pack of cigarettes; a bad habit he’d yet to break.
“I mean—they were cover songs,” You shrugged, “Metallica is alright, but I prefer Bon Jovi and Quiet Riot—“
“Are you shitting on Metallica, right now?” Eddie asks, shocked by the admission. He manages to wiggle a cigarette out with one hand, tossing the box toward the middle console, “Do you mind?”
Part of you wants to say yes, just to be difficult, but you shake your head. He flicks his lighter opening, lighting the end of the cigarette until it burns a bright amber, ashes falling from the tip.
“You dress like you’re stuck in the eighties, dude.” Eddie seems offended by the comment, but takes it in stride.
“Says the lady who still listens to Bon Jovi.” Eddie sharks, pulling the cigarette from his lips, smoke billowing from his nose as he breathes, “
You hate how nice it is to watch, his soft lips pursing into a tight line. One more hit at him and he’d probably fail you out of spite, but you do it anyway.
“Says the guy still singing eighties cover songs.” Eddie winces at the jab, flicking away the ash from the cigarette, held out in the air as he searches for his retort.
“So you hated it?” Is all his brain can muster at a time like this, brain hazy from the amount of beers he consumed—you could say the same for yourself, the alcohol buzz is still ever apparent—you wouldn’t have ended up in a situation like this while stone cold sober, that’s for sure.
“No,” You reply honestly. The music was good, the performance was even better, but still—it seemed he was searching for your approval, like it would make all the difference, “but it’s the mid nineties, you need to get with the times.”
Eddie scoffs offensively, a few more puffs before he’s rubbing the cigarette to its untimely demise, pulling into the quiet campus.
“I’m gonna pretend you didn’t say that,” He says, coming to a stop, “—I hope this is close enough, the last thing I need is someone catching me dropping you off.”
Then he shouldn’t have offered a ride, which was his first mistake of many.
It’s offensive how handsome he looks under the dim lights radiating from the inside of his van—an odd choice for a teacher of his salary, but it still makes sense, somehow.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, sir.” You retort, throwing the last bit in for fun—he tenses again, visibly. He doesn’t correct you, though, which is even more difficult to understand.
He offers a simple wave, friendly and polite, then he’s gone and halfway across the campus before you can even process what happened.
It also doesn’t help that the first thing you see in your dreams that night is his face—ungodly in the way he worshiped your body, from head to toe; it was definitely the alcohol talking.
☆.。.:*
Monday drags more than you expect, having nursed your hangover during the weekend, it felt like an aftershock was trying to overtake you, your focus lacking. It wasn’t unlike you.
You replay the conversation with Eddie in your head a few times that weekend, realizing that even through your drunken haze, Eddie was not attempting to be teacherly toward you—he was friendly, a natural conversationalist, it felt wrong.
It felt even worse when you fell asleep, his head stuck between your thighs as you dreamed that night, “She’s so pretty,” His voice is faded, muffled—like he’s stuck in a tunnel and too far away, “fucking soaking wet, too.”
And it feels too real as he licks a broad stripe up your cunt, moaning obscenely as his face is coated in your wetness, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit—it’s too much for you to process.
“Good afternoon,” Eddie’s voice carries through the door to his classroom, satchel and coffee in hand, looking just as worse for wear. His hair is tied back in a loose bun, no tie today, and his slacks look like they’re been worn for a week straight, wrinkles and all, “nice to see the class has downsized.”
It has, nearly half of the original class is gone—which really, it was better for you. You couldn’t focus in large classes and it felt less personal, more disconnected than you liked.
Eddie tries desperately to keep his energy up during the duration of the lesson, but he’s lacking on all fronts—maybe he had a rough weekend?
When he hands out the first assignment near the end of class, he stops by your desk, leaning on the railing to speak to the entirety of the class, “And don’t freak out—this is just a basis to see where you heads are at in terms of what music you like, how it makes you feel, it’s just a soft introduction into some of the stuff we’ll be covering over the semester.”
It’s a list of various songs, bands, genres—a mix of things dating back to the early fifties, up until more recently. “Go out, rent some of this if you’ve never heard of it, and write what you feel—that’s it. Easy enough?”
Eddie doesn’t acknowledge you most of the class, which is expected, but disappointing. He seems preoccupied, distracted, clearly bothered by something. But, it wasn’t your problem—the only focus you had now was your course work, which was the first thing you started on that night; a very giddy Max rummaging through your dorm room as background noise, so disorganized it could drive you insane.
“He drove you here?” She asks.
“Yes—but you can’t say anything, Max. I’m serious.”
You didn’t have anything to worry about, you knew that.
“I didn’t even know he taught here—or that he was even a professor. I mean, I know he finally graduated but—“
“Finally?” You ask curiously, swiveling in your chair to face her fully, interest fully piqued.
“He had a rough time in high school—he didn’t graduate until he was twenty, I think.” She explains, busy hands now stopped in their tracks. “He’s been through a lot.”
Your eyebrows raise in question, hoping Max would spill everything she knew—you couldn’t help but be curious about him, even if he was your professor.
“He probably doesn’t even know I go here,” She laughs slightly, “His mom and dad were never in the picture, though—at least I never saw them, it’s always been him and his uncle. He hung out with Nancy, Steve, and Robin a lot—closer to when he was graduating, they’ve stayed good friends, I guess.”
You nod slowly, absorbing the information.
“Is he mean?” Max asks randomly and you almost laugh, “My professors are the worst.”
“He’s fine,” You shrug, “It’s kinda nice that he’s not such a dick, you know?”
“What does he teach again?”
“Musical therapy?” You respond, wondering if that would surface any other tidbits of information.
“Oh—that kinda makes sense. He was always listening to music, then he just disappeared after graduation, but his uncle always talked about how he was helping people, doing something he really liked—I just never bothered him about it.”
There’s a long silence before Max can’t help herself, perching herself on the surface closest to you, pens scrambling to the floor as she takes a seat on the edge of your shared desk.
“What did you guys talk about?”
“The weather,” You say flatly, not receiving any type of reaction from her, “—-just music, that’s it.”
“But, babe, you love music.” Max reminds, like it wasn’t painfully obvious.
“And—he’s my professor, it’s fucking weird.” You explain, but even Max doesn’t believe you. “What—why are you looking at me like that?”
“You two are so similar,” She laughs, “It’s freaky.”
“Maxine—what are you trying to imply?”
“Nothing,” She shrugs, hoping from the desk, “—remember that I’ll be your maid of honor at the wedding, though. We pinky swore.”
“He’s my professor, Max.” You stress again, Max smiles wide, annoying you further.
“Whatever helps you sleep at night, right?” Max asks, realizing that you’d used the same playful jab at him the night before.
“What?” The coincidence was uncanny.
“Eddie used to tell me that whenever I tried to justify doing something I wasn’t supposed to—I’ve grown, obviously,” That’s not entirely believable, but you keep your mouth shut, “the saying stuck with me—it’s kinda fun to use.”
“Whatever—did you get the music I asked about?” You ask, impatiently switching the topic to something less scandalous.
“Everything was spoken for,” Max explains, trying to let you down gently, “I really tried—but I guess everyone in that class had the same idea on where to go, unless you want to take a trip to the store and buy them—“
And it dawns on you, Eddie must have some sort of music collection, “Wait—what time is it?”
Max takes a quick glimpse at the alarm clock on her nightstand, “A quarter past five, why?”
Still open for office hours—you prayed silently, despite your lack of religion, hoping that he was still in his classroom.
“Give me a ride.”
Max doesn’t question it, being the best friend she is.
☆.。.:*
“I’m busy,” He says before you can even knock on the door, your loud ascending footsteps giving you away, “come back in the morning.”
You peek through the window of the door anyways, seeing a perfectly relaxed Eddie reclined at his desk, feet propped up as he jotted something down in a book, tongue poked out in focus.
“Uh Professor…Munson,” It felt foreign and weird, “I just had a question.”
His demeanor changes on a dime at the sight of you, unbusying himself completely. It’s a little hysterical, but endearing nonetheless. It makes your stomach flutter at the sight, scrambling to button his shirt higher, seem more professional, not that you hadn’t already seen him outside of work.
The door creaks open, his head popping through as you back away, “What’s going on?” He asks, surprised that anyone would dare to bother him outside of normal class hours. It doesn’t take you long to realize that he only mentioned the office hours out of courtesy, he didn’t actually expect anyone to bother him.
“I was trying to work on your assignment—“ His eyes softened, and it made you flinch, feeling exposed, “I don’t really have the money to buy any of the music and everything was already rented out—-so I wasn’t sure what to do.”
“Oh,” He wasn’t sure what to expect but he finds himself opening the door wider, welcoming you inside, “Yeah—a few students raided my shelf before class was over but I’m sure there’s some left.”
“Thanks,” You reply shyly, squeezing beside him, watching as he lingered by the door still, hands shoved into fists in his pockets, “I didn’t mean to interrupt you, sir—“
“You can call me Eddie—here, at least.” And that definitely doesn’t feel appropriate, but if he’s insisting, well…
“Sorry, it just feels…strange, I guess.” It’s not how you wanted to describe it, but it’s the only word that comes to mind. “I can’t imagine how weird it is running into your students outside of class.”
“Probably as weird as it feels running into your teacher,” He adds playfully, lightening the mood. It’s nice that he’s not so bothered by all of it, “Oh—I’ve got some Elvis in there, a lot of classic rock. I’m not sure about the newer stuff, though.”
“Max has some of it.” You comment without thinking, sifting through the box of music, picking and choosing as you went.
“Max?”
“She’s—she’s my roommate here.” You answer quietly, unable to meet his eyes as he walks closer, leisurely making his way around his desk.
“I guess I should’ve put that together,” He says, taking a moment to examine the sweater you’d shoved on, “You two share a closet?”
“Among other things.” You smile, grasping the stack of Cd's in your hand, “How did you know?”
You share a glance down at the faded sweater, reading off the name of some random skate shop back in rural Hawkins, a place you’ve never stepped foot inside of.
“I got that for Red on her sixteenth birthday, before I left.”
Eddie’s frowning now, nearly unnoticeable, but you see the way his mouth creases, eyes turned down. “It’s her favorite,” You say, in an attempt to make the mood less dark, “but I always steal it from her—she’s let me take residency over it at this point.”
“It looks nice,” Eddie says suddenly, feeling the slip up as it slides off his tongue, rambling even further as he says, “on you—I mean, it’s a nice sweater—that’s why I bought it.”
You laugh softly, bottom lip jutting out as your mouth curls into a smile. “Thanks, Eddie.”
He scratched at his temple, ringed finger shining against the light refracting from the lamp on his desk. You’ve never noticed it before—or them, since his hand was adorned with three, that you could see.
“Hey, those are cool—“ You point out, finger pressed in the direction of his upheld hand. He stops, views his hand, almost like he’s forgotten he was wearing them, “I’ve noticed them before.”
“I try not to wear them during class hours, the administration thinks it’s unprofessional.” The nature of the rings, not the fact that he wore them—if he had a wedding ring it wouldn’t matter, but the thought of marriage made Eddie want to vomit.
“Fuck ‘em.” You say crudely, shoulder shrugged In indifference.
Eddie’s mouth hangs open slightly at the sudden outburst, amusement flooding his face, “I’m still your professor—probably should keep that type of language to a minimum.”
You snort at his indication that he had any type of hold over what you do—he couldn’t be further from the point.
“Or what?” You say challengingly, “This isn’t high school—it’s not like you can give me detention or tell my parents.”
“I am the one handling your grades.” He counters, hip leaned against the edge of his desk. Your free hand travels to your waist, slipping underneath the sweater to rest against the skin.
“You don’t intimidate me—I hope you know that.” You remind him carefully, eyes narrowing in his direction. “The other’s are terrified of you, but that shit doesn’t work on me.”
And he should know better—you shouldn’t even be here and he definitely should be flirting with a student, if you could call it that. Was this flirting? Was this crossing the line? He’s studied body language for a long time, through the process of his treatment of people, and he can’t help but notice how relaxed you seem, almost enjoying the back and forth.
“You should go,” He says quickly, avoiding any further lines being blurred or crossed or misconstrued; you were his student and it was unprofessional, “my office hours are closing soon.”
“Uh huh.” You nod slowly, adjusting the stack of music under your arm, watching the way Eddie’s fingers drum against the desk impatiently, like he can’t wait to get you out of there.
If he was really that bothered, he could’ve said something.
“Thanks again, professor.” You say with grandeur, motioning to the stack of Cd's, “It’s greatly appreciated.”
Eddie tries to ignore the small sliver of skin that shows underneath your slightly raised top that was no longer obscured by your hand, almost like you’re doing it on purpose.
Which, yes, you absolutely were.
You slip by him silently, avoiding the way his eyes follow you. It felt predatorial, but not uncomfortable—and that’s what you hated about it.
He didn’t look at you as a student—he looked at you like something else; you couldn’t put your finger on it.
Eddie turns on the heels of his shoes, “I expect those back tomorrow,” He warns, but there’s no sense of actual ramifications behind it.
You don’t answer fully, a small nod that Eddie doesn’t quite notice. He grabs the sleeve of your sweater gently, his fingertips pressing against your covered arm. “I mean it.”
You look at the hand that gripped your arm for far too long, Eddie still holding on just as hard. “I know.” You appease him, “And if I don’t—you know where to find me.”
The glance to your desk is silent, but done in unison.
“Wanna let go now, sir?”
Eddie hates the way his dick twitches under the material of his corduroy slacks, releasing the bunch of material from his grip. You half-expect him to scold you for the remark, but he’s speechless, for once in his life.
“Sorry,” He apologizes, feeling like he’s made things uncomfortable, but it’s so far from that—he has no idea, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“On time, hopefully.”
It’s just another playful comment, but it has Eddie gripping his thigh from the inside of his pocket, muscles tensed in frustration.
You leave with a wordless smile that’s burned into Eddie’s mind for the rest of mankind—and it’s definitely not the first thing he thinks about when he slips his boxers down his thighs that night, cock still half-hard from earlier in the evening.
☆.。.:*
He becomes a permanent fixture in your dreams as the weeks grow on, unbeknownst to him—not that he can say much for himself either, annoyed by the finite nerve you have to walk into his classroom, skirt pulled halfway up your waist, ass barely peeking out of the bottom of the pleated material.
He knows it’s wrong and going against all of the rules set it place for this very reason, but he can’t help himself. So, he suffers in silence—not that it was anything new to him, he’s done it his entire life; under different circumstances and situations perhaps, but the basics of it still remained.
“Fuck—spread your legs,” His voice is hushed, quiet against the skin of your leg as he sucks a deep purple mark into the skin, jerking at the touch of cold metal, the outside of his rings grazing your thighs, “wanna taste you.”
It feels too real—you toss and turn in your sleep restlessly most nights, dreaming about your professor with his hands around your thighs and his mouth buried deep into your cunt.
And with little to no interaction during class, aside from the occasional glance in your direction, he kept his distance—which wasn’t a surprise, he had no idea.
He had no idea that his student was practically pining after him. It doesn’t help that you’ve seen him outside of the classroom, dress downed and free of an inhibitions or rules; it was a special kind of torture.
It’s late October when Eddie speaks to you directly, alone—he’s got most of the class set up on various different instruments of their choosing, allowing them to feel them out and play freely, and somehow—by some fucked up fate, you get stuck with a six string and not a clue how to play.
Fake playing wasn’t working, Eddie could spot it from a mile away. You don’t chance the glance up at him, but the squeak of his shoes is enough warning, bracing for whatever remark was going to be sent your way.
“Have you ever played before?” He says instead and your eyes immediately shoot up to him, all previous restraint thrown out the window.
“No, not really.” You say truthfully, watching as Eddie pulled up a chair in front of you, facing the back of it in your direction, thigh swinging over the side—his jeans tightening with the action, along with your thighs. You really needed to get your shit together.
“Here,” His hands come out to rest over yours, adjusting your left hand over the base of the guitar, your right hand around the neck, “This is A,” He presses your finger over the cord, instructing your other hand to strum.
It’s slightly out of tune, but the guitar seems old—probably provided by the college rather than Eddie himself, “That’s good,” He praises calmly, “Now try playing an A sharp,” He guides your hand further down the neck, the warm, rough skin of his hand covering your own. He feels tough and worn and you notice the small cuts around his fingertips at this proximity, breath catching as his hand grasps around the wrist that was actively strumming the guitar, “it’s really complicated at first, there’s a lot to learn.”
“Clearly,” You say, forcing down the smile that threatened to break through, “how long have you played?”
He seems surprised that you cared or even tried to ask.
“Since I was about twelve, probably.” He answers honestly, “More than half my life.”
Eddie still hasn’t moved his hands, either—he can’t be bothered. It doesn’t look as incriminating as you thought, but still, you knew. He helps you play through a few more notes until he’s gotten you to the point of playing a small, five second tone—but it’s all you can really manage.
“It takes a while.” He assures you, not that you wanted to pick up a guitar again after this.
“Why don’t you play?” You ask sweetly, smiling flashing with nothing but devious intent, handing the guitar over toward your professor.
“Nono—I’m really not—“ He protests, setting the guitar back on its stand beside you.
“Not what? That good?” You ask curiously, he was worse at lying to himself than he was to you.
“Are we forgetting how I saw you play that night?” You ask quietly, nothing how his gaze lingered with yours, “Because if that wasn’t you then—“
He gives you a muted look of warning, wanting you to drop the topic of conversation, but you can’t be bothered. He wasn’t in charge of you, not really.
“You can play a Dio song blindfolded, I bet,” You point out, still keeping enough of a hushed town that only Eddie can hear, “Your eyes were closed that entire set.”
“It was my first time back home in a while,” He defends lamely, “It helps with the nerves.”
“I thought it was really good.”
Eddie’s eyes light up in a way you can’t ignore, bordering on shock and adoration, it’s the first real smile you’ve seen from him.
The end of class comes quicker than you want it to, forced to pack your belongings back into your bag in a rush, everyone’s already managed to file out before you can even think of zipping your bag up.
“Hey,” Eddie calls out, every other student already long gone, “here, take this.”
It’s a flyer, similar to the one Max shoved into your hands a few weeks prior.
A different bar, same band; one night only.
“I’m probably breaking a thousand rules by giving you that,” He explains carefully, “but maybe you and Max could come out and watch us play—tell her I’ll even throw in some free Kate Bush.”
Your smile is warm, folding the flyer and stuffing it into your pocket. “I told you—I’m not the type to blab, Eddie.”
You hate how easy it feels to say his name in such a setting, still dressed up in his ridiculous attempt at seeming studious and professional. You knew he hated it, he knew it too.
“I can ask her—if not, I’ll still show.” You tell him.
He was only inviting Max to be courteous, but that wasn’t up for him to decide whether or not you actually brought her along. Either way, he was appreciative. He knew that a lot of the support he received back home was mostly done out of obligation and sympathy, but with—it felt real. He didn’t know you, he didn’t have anything to prove to you, and more importantly, you were genuine and honest; he hated that you took up this class. Hated it.
“It’s not a big deal if you can’t.” He offers as an out.
There was no way you were going to miss it, not with how Eddie was looking at you now; despite the circumstance, it was so blatantly obvious to you how badly you wanted him.
“Eddie, I’ll be there.” You assure him once more.
And if the smile that spreads over his face isn’t something worth worshiping, you’d surely find something else.
☆.。.:*
The bar is small, on the complete opposite side of town—but Max still offers to drive you, but it’s definitely not for your own benefit. She hasn’t shut up about Eddie since you’d told her the situation, the weird looks he gives you, and the horrible filthy dreams you’ve been having; sans the super embarrassing details. She gets it—it’s incredibly amusing to her, but she gets it.
“You sure you don’t want to stay?” You asks, fingers tapping nervously against the ripped denim of your jeans, frayed material pulled between your fingertips. “He did invite you.”
“Babe, I’m doing you a favor.” Max interjects, halfhearted smirk on her face.
“He’s my teacher—for the last time,” You begin, beyond desperation, the words falling from your tongue weren’t even believable to your own ears, “I’m not trying to fuck him, Max.”
“I did not say anything about fucking him,” She laughs amusingly, turning into the parking lot of the bar, “—it’s just not as weird as you’re making it out to be. I’ve known Eddie for a long time.”
“You’re really missing the point.” You say, rubbing the frustration on your face away with your hands, eyebrows furrowing in annoyance.
“Oh whatever, don’t tell me you suddenly have some strict moral compass,” Max replies flippantly, “you want to screw him and you know it.”
The suspense is enough of an answer. There was no lying to Max, she knew just about every deepest, darkest secret you carried.
She pulls to a stop outside the entrance, turning toward you carefully, “Also—I can’t pick you up so you’re gonna have to ask him for a ride. I love you.” She rambled it off in one breath, barely giving you time to process. “See you tomorrow?”
It’s the one fight you decide not to pick with her, because for some reason, you know it’s for your own good.
“Hey—you made it!” The familiar voice calls from behind you—Eddie, guitar case in hand, the rest of his band mates in tow. “Red.” He acknowledges, offering her a nod. “There’s parking in the back.”
“Oh—I’m not staying,” She shouts from the driver’s side, “take care of her or I’ll murder you, Munson.”
Max is pulling off before you have any last fleeting chance to run, leaving both you and Eddie at a loss for words.
“Pulled a fast one, didn’t she?” Eddie asks after a moment, gathering by your side, following you into the bar. “She’s sneaky as hell, I’ll give her that.”
“Yeah, you could say that.” You huff softly, watching your step as you crossed the threshold, hit in the face with the smell of cigarette smoke and cheap beer.
“A beaut, isn’t she?” Eddie asks sarcastically, but despite that, the bar still garnered a decent amount of attention, packed to the brim with older gentlemen—nothing like bars near campus.
“I think I found your target audience,” You joke lightly, catching the smirk that crosses Eddie’s face as you glance over your shoulder. “I’ll fit right in.”
Eddie slaps a twenty into your hand, “Here, drinks on me—since I forced you here,” You look at him reluctantly, “I don’t want to hear it.”
“I didn’t plan on drinking tonight.” You insist, forcing the bill back into his hand, “I’ll be okay.”
“You sure?” He asks, eyeing you carefully, like he’s trying to find a hint or tell, something to figure out what exactly your mind was fighting against—which right now, it was the fact that Eddie looked ridiculous with eyeliner, yet, still criminally attractive.
It’s exactly why you shouldn’t have come tonight, because whatever could happen—you weren’t sure if you had it in you to shut down.
You nod with finality. Eddie takes the money back reluctantly, stuffing it into his front pocket. He feels terrible that you have to sit there, alone—all to watch a shitty cover band play a few songs.
But to you, it was worth it.
You sit and wait, forcing away the bartender a few times until he finally gets the message, leaving you be. It’s quiet, aside from the hum of laughter and idle conversation, Eddie and his group setting up silently onstage—that impending feeling in your gut expanding further as you watch him move around, guitar strap swung over his neck, watching shamelessly as he adjusts the instrument against his body.
He catches your eyes then, sending you a cheeky smile that has you face burning on the spot—at this point, you care less about your professional relationship, if it could even be considered that.
Eddie plays with all the gusto you expect, belting out lyric after lyric on his performance high; it’s unlike anything you’ve ever witnessed. It’s hard not to compare him to his classroom demeanor, more restrained and relaxed—it was forced, that was easy to tell. But this—this was Eddie, unafraid and free to behave how he pleased, it was unfair how attractive he was, both in looks and personality. It felt like you’d know him longer than just a few weeks; months maybe? Years?
It was like hanging out with an old friend, discovering new and old things about one another; you’d spill your heart to him at a moment’s notice if he asked—and that’s why this felt so dangerous.
☆.。.:*
“How was it?” Eddie asks as he rounds the corner, still slightly out of breath and face covered in a sheen of sweat. You hand him a napkin in silence and he laughs, but accepts the offer.
“Good,” You smile honestly, “I really enjoyed the gradual crescendo from Holy Diver into Living After Midnight—“
Eddie could kiss you on the spot, which is such a startling thought that it stops all thinking completely—you were absolutely too good to be true, it was a constant reminder every time you spoke, making him fight with this taboo feeling more and more every day.
“Do you still need a ride home?” He asks suddenly, interrupting your waterfall of compliments, “I was going to head out already.”
“Well, considering Max left me stranded,” You say with an empty bitterness, knowing that her attentions were mostly good, “yes, I do.”
Eddie nods a silent direction—and just like the first night, you follow without question.
☆.。.:*
The foot that isn’t pressed on the gas pedal is shaking insistently, leg bouncing against the leather of Eddie’s seat, hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. He can hear you humming, mumbling the song on the radio to yourself, another classic—one of Eddie’s favorites, and he really can’t help himself anymore.
It was just a small, innocent indulgence. Who could it really hurt? You were both consenting, capable adults—and the worst thing you could do was turn him down, which Eddie really hoped wasn’t the case, but he was beyond caring about norms and rules, driven by the pure fact that he just wanted—wanted you, in any sense of the word.
“What are you doing?” You ask curiously, watching as Eddie searched idly through his stack of music, somehow still managing his focus on the road.
“Changing the song,” He comments simply, pushing the disc into the player—the soft synth of the song pushing through the speakers of his van, “do you know it?”
“Corey Hart, right?” You ask, taking a wild guess. You’d only heard the song once, but it was still catchy enough that it stuck around in your brain, “I didn’t picture you as the type.”
“You’d be surprised.” He comments oddly, turning the volume up slightly.
He notices the humming again, the small head bop along to the beat. “You like it.”
It’s more of a statement, rather than a question. You catch the side of his face, the small glint in his eye as he focuses back on the road.
“That's presumptuous of you,” You retort, hands twisting in your lap, “it’s alright, I guess.”
“Mind if I do a little study?” He asks hesitantly, breath catching in your throat for half a second.
“Of me?” You ask with a laugh, “I mean—if you want?”
“Your heart is racing, for one,” Eddie points out slyly, watching the rapid rise and fall of your chest as the beat picked up, chorus running through the silence that filled the air, “and you’re squeezing your hands.”
“Okay, genius,” You remark, “You’ve got eyes, good for you.”
He’s not really using his degree in this situation, it’s more of an innocent observation of the already underlying tension that Eddie couldn’t help but notice—the obvious body language giving you away. The song was just a secret favorite of his, but you didn’t need to know that, not yet.
“Mind I make one?” You ask, “An observation, I mean.”
What was the harm in it anyways? Eddie nods for you to continue.
“You’ve been shaking your leg since we left.” You point out, the bouncing coming to an abrupt stop, “and I’ve never seen you do that—ever.”
“It’s the after performance buzz.” He replies cooly, but you can’t be bothered to believe it. “It’s not that unusual.”
“Eddie—you’re making that up,” You tell him, eyeing burning into the side of his face, “what’s your deal?”
“My deal?”
“Yeah—why are you lying?” It’s a bold question to ask, heart fluttering in your chest. But, the way he looks at you has your legs crossing in frustration, squeezing together to relieve that ache growing between your legs.
“So, you want to pretend I didn’t notice that either?” He asks, eyeing the full expanse of your body before stopping on your legs, still firmly crossed in the seat, hands white knuckling each other under the long sleeves of your shirt. “Uncross your legs.”
“What? No.” You scoff, offended by his forwardness for a brief moment.
Eddie slips his hand under your knee wordlessly, prying your legs apart. You can’t help but look at him as if he’s lost his fucking mind—that doesn’t stop your legs from following his order. It made the ache that much worse.
“Don’t,” He warns hesitantly, the small shift in your leg giving you away, “it’s not gonna help.”
“Help what?” You reply dumbly, “I can’t cross my legs? Is that a crime?”
Eddie’s gaze lingers for far too long, noticing the flush of your chest and the way it creeps up your cheeks—they felt like they were on fire. In the midst of all the back and forth, it’s hard to keep focus on the main fact at play—teacher, student, your mind screaming, wrong.
Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
“I can help.” He makes a subtle nod toward you.
It didn’t take a genius to know what he was talking about. You were very well aware of the issue. You want to weigh your options, come up with some stupid reason to wiggle out if the situation—but nothing comes to mind. The way Eddie’s fingers tighten around the steering wheel has you digging your nails into your own thigh—you’re going to cave, you can feel it.
“Eddie.” You warn, watching as his hands lingers toward the gear shift, resting against the cracked and worn down plastic covering.
“Our secret, right?” He teases, like this whole situation wasn’t built on secrecy. You nod willingly, legs spreading a few inches wider. His fingers trail the seam of your jeans, stopping on the button, popping it open with deft fingers. “Move this way—yeah, there.”
And when his fingers breach the seam of your underwear, your mind sings a soft praise of release, watching as his hand forces its way into the tight space, leaving him no other option but to cup your cunt with his full palm.
There was no turning back now.
His middle finger drags through your folds testingly, matching the slow undulating beat of the song, like this was a game to him. You have no idea how to handle your hovering hands, too afraid to touch him, so they wrap around the headrest behind your head, fingers gripped tightly together.
Your legs spread wider, giving him better access—you were rutting into his hand at the shift of position, feeling that familiar tingle of pleasure as it shot through your body, mixed with the feeling of a bite of forbidden fruit, avoiding Eddie’s heated gaze as he shifted between you and the road.
It feels reckless and stupid, but you can’t find the courage to stop.
The first dip of his finger is like heaven, feeling unfamiliar after so long, despite how often you touched yourself, you couldn’t remember the last time there had ever been anyone else but you—not since the first summer after you graduated; freshly eighteen and naive, letting a much older man have you how he wanted—it’s uncanny, the situation your in now. But this, it doesn’t feel like that.
“Fuck—“ Your voice catches, stomach clenching at the curl of his middle finger as it slipped inside of you and back out, pace so insufferably slow, “—need more.”
“There she is,” He smiles to himself, confidence oozing in his tone, “—shit, you’re such a liar.”
It takes you a minute to realize that he’s not talking to you at all—which sends you down a different wave of emotions, pussy clenching around his lone finger, gasping at the way he curls it against the soft walls of your cunt, searching desperately for something out of reach.
“How long has it been like this?” He asks curiously.
Since the moment you met him, is what you want to say.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You reply breathlessly, back arching away from the seat, cunt pressing further against his hand as he slips a second finger inside.
At the lie, Eddie stops without warning, and it gives you a headache, that slow build of pleasure deflating immediately.
“The truth,” He says, though, it’s more of a demand, “tell me.”
And fuck, if you weren’t putty in this man’s rough, calloused hands.
“Since earlier,” You reply, rewarded with the soft brush of a fingertip over your clit, you quickly unzip your jeans to allow for more room, “when I saw you onstage.”
Eddie’s groan in response tells you everything you need to hear. He slows to a stop at a red light and it’s the first real glance you share with him the entire evening, both of you seeing straight through each other, bodies overran with pleasure.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” He says, and it seems a little late for a realization like that, you can’t help but laugh, “what—you think it’s funny?”
“You’re the one with your hand down my pants, sir.” You retort, earning a disciplined squeeze as he shoves his two middle most fingers back into your cunt, molding around him like glue.
“Sorry—I know you hate that word,” You say playfully, “But do you mind if I use it? Or, do you prefer professor?”
It was your turn to play into the guilt he was feeling, though it didn’t seem to be concerning if he still had his hands shoved down your pants so willingly.
“Shut up,” He forces out, swerving slightly at the way you cunt clenched around his fingers, insides fluttering as he curves his fingers wildly, grazing that sweet spot deep inside of you, “don’t call me that.”
His hands were larger than yours, making up for all the work you missed out on.
“Too far?” You ask teasingly, knowing that was the least of your worries; all moral lines crossed, blurred, forgotten about entirely. Eddie’s fingers pull back to graze over the sensitive nub, rubbing in small, leisurely circles, “Fuck that—that feels—“
Your moan is so unashamed that it surprises you, hips bucking up into his hands as you nearly leapt out of the seat.
Eddie can’t take the suffering much longer, pulling off onto the winding side road, tucked into a nest of trees. He unbuckles his seatbelt, allowing fuller access as he turns toward you, switching his hands with practiced ease—you couldn’t even open your eyes, face drawn up in pleasure. You knew the moment you looked at him you were done for.
“Look at me,” His voice echoes alongside the melodic tune of the song, his fingers matching the catchy beat—the damn music aficionado he was, toying with you, fingers strumming against your swollen clit like the strings of his guitar, “—I said, look at me.”
Your body works for you, eyes opening on instinct—his voice was rough, authoritative, leaving no room for argument.
“Good girl—It’s what you wanted, right?” He asks with a semblance of a smirk on his face, “It’s why you came tonight?”
You laugh weakly at his words, double entendre, unable to go unnoticed, “As far as I’m concerned, no one’s came tonight.”
His eyes darken, shifting toward your cunt, covered by your clothes, his wrist poking out above the thin material of your underwear.
“You can stop—stop acting like this is my fault,” You hiccup, gasping as he applies heavy pressure to your clit, rubbing steadily, hating how shameful it feels as your cunt clenches around nothing, wishing his fingers were still buried inside you. “Please—fuck, I just—“
All self restraint forgotten, you hand searches for his face, finding its way into his curls, pulling gently at the root, the softest hint of a grunt falling from his lips—the first noticeable sign all evening that he was even slightly affected by this—by you.
And maybe you’ve gone too far, the idea of touching him is where things go wrong, but you can’t be bothered to hold yourself together anymore.
“It’s okay,” He assures you, leaning over the middle console, hand working quickly against your cunt, moaning loudly into the confines of the car, ashamed at how wrecked you sound, “I like it.”
He must’ve noticed your expression, lingering on his face—you could do anything and he’d fall to his knees.
“It hurts—“ You plead, begging for release, “—please?”
It sounds too pretty coming from you, deciding that putting you out of your misery was easier than watching you suffer, on the verge of a mind-blowing orgasm, Eddie’s hands feeling so much better than your own, or anyone that’s touched you before.
Your mouth hangs open on a wordless gasp, eyes squeezing shut at the force at which your high hits you, his fingers gently coaxing you through the descending pulse of your orgasm, near the point of over stimulation.
“Okayokay—“ You ramble, fingers wrapping around the length of his wrist as you pulled him away, heart skipping in your chest at the sight of his fingers flexing against your stomach as he pulls away, fingers covered in your wetness as a result of what just happened.
Your head rests against the back of the seat, chest heaving rapidly as you try to catch your breath. “Not that I’m complaining—“ Eddie’s voice pulls you out of your hypnosis, “but you might wanna let go.”
“Shit—I’m sorry,” You apologize softly, letting go of his hair, looking at him sheepishly, hands returning to your lap to fix your pants.
The song had ended long ago, the gentle rumble of the engine filling the quiet like an ambiance, realization settling between you both.
Who speaks first?
He’s quiet, wiping his hands on a black handkerchief that he seemed to have pulled out of nowhere, before stuffing it into his back pocket—where it must’ve been all along.
“I’m—“
“Should I—“
The stare you hold is long and tense, brimming with even more sexual tension than before, searching for some way to cope with whatever just happened.
He glanced down at the hard bulge of his jeans, noticing the way your gaze catches. He shifts, pulling at the front of his jeans to adjust himself. “It’s fine.” He lies, not ready to allow this to go any further than it should have.
“I don’t mind,” You reply slowly, voice hesitant as you lean forward, “I want to.”
He feels himself flex at the thought, the idea of your mouth—or even your hand, wrapped around, he was ruined. But, he’s insistent.
“I need to get you back to campus, right?” He asks, though the answer is obvious. It was a grasping at straw attempt to change the subject. “Red’s probably worried about you.”
Not a fucking chance.
“Yeah—you’re right.” You answer, trying to hide dejection, wanting nothing more than to touch him, as intimately as he had you. “We should go.”
It’s like he’s turning on his classroom demeanor before your eyes—and frankly, it’s ridiculous. He’s regretting every choice he just made and you know it, watching as he flips the gear into place, back on the road with one swift twist of the steering wheel.
And it could’ve been the heat of the moment or the copious amount of drinks that Eddie had been offered that night, obscuring his rational thinking—but he didn’t reek of alcohol, not a single drop on his breath. So, if anything, it was regret, obvious and plastered over his entire face.
But to Eddie, it's shame.
Shame at the idea of breaking so many rules, risking his job at the hands of some young women—who he couldn’t help but be lured by, entranced at how much of an enigma you were. He couldn’t describe it, couldn’t even put it into words.
And even after he drops you off that night, he comes in his hand, against the soft expanse of his stomach, the image of your face in his mind as you come apart by the work of his own hand.
He knew there was no going back, allowing himself to fully succumb to the idea that if you were willing to let him have you like that, you’d let him do just about anything.
It was exactly what you wanted.
author's note: and an extra special thank you to @hellfirehoe for dealing with my nonstop horny thoughts about this and helping me proofread.
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wrapped - m.s
female reader x grumpy bf matt
warnings: none! all fluff
word count: 649 words
you were currently in the car with nick and chris as you wait for matt to come out. nick and chris wanted to go to top golf and they know that matt will most likely tell them no, as he has had a long day. making them use their secret weapon, you.
they picked it up a few months back when they noticed that when you wanted to do something, go somewhere, anything you basically wanted matt would be right there to do it. so now when they want something, they get you to ask matt as he would nine out of ten he will say yes to you.
so here you three were sitting in the car waiting on matt as he gets his things to drive you guys. "maybe you should lay off on me asking matt, why don't you just ask him?" you say turning your head in the direction of the boys. "because he does anything you ask, but with us it's like pulling teeth" nick says adjusting himself in his seat. "he has soft spot for you, you got him wrapped around your finger-" chris gets interrupted as matt gets in the car finally. "who has someone wrapped around their finger?" matt says turning on car and looking back chris.
"you, she has you wrapped around her finger" chris says nudging nick to agree. "yeah matt, you do anything she says basically but with us, your own brothers we get a no almost every time" nick adds to chris's statement. "no i do not" matt says turning back around to back out of the garage. "and for your information she does not have me wrapped her around her finger" matt adds before giving you his phone to put on some music.
"right, that's why she got you doing face masks the other night" nick says rolling his eyes making chris laugh. "face masks? bro she got you wrapped, you never cared about that stuff before" chris somehow manages to get out as he still continues to laugh. matt is quick to run his hand through his hair and sigh, making you notice placing a your hand on his arm. "don't listen to them baby" you say adding to the conversation and leaning in to give him a kiss on the cheek.
"but at least i got a girl chris" matt says smirking looking at his rear view mirror making nick laugh. "he got you there" nick says continuing to laugh. chris moves towards the window and pouts. "not cool man" chris says almost whining making everyone in car laugh. you all enjoy the rest of the car ride together talking about how everyone's day was and doing a little karaoke as some favorite songs came on.
matt isn't the type of person to really show emotions, chris and nick constantly call him miserable matt. that was before you both started dating, yes you and matt are different but that never stopped him from falling for you. two polar opposites attract, right? they still call him that sometimes but mostly lover boy as he's always stealing you back from the brothers.
you love matt dearly. even though he's a mr. grumpy, he's the sweetest with you. he opens up to you fully feeling comfortable with your presence and your sweet upbeat attitude you always have. making one of the main reasons why he fell inlove with you.
matt is yours and you are his. he places his right hand on your thigh making you smile, as you put your hand above his. feeling the love from the supposed grumpy and miserable matt that is secretly a big softy for you.
you take in the love and happiness you feel in the air. you couldn't ask for anything better. this were you belong with matt by your side, nick your bestfriend and chris like a brother to you.
a/n: here's some fluff that's been sitting in my drafts <3
tags: @nicksmainbitch @samandcolbyfan22 @sturniolossss @sturnlova @its-jennarose
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previous part | part two —> here
cw: mentions of blood, gore, stalking, obsession, peverse and creepy reader, yander intendecies! implied fem reader but I tried to make it as gender neutral as possible!
MDNI – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
*✧・゚: *✧・゚
Careless!Simon 'Ghost' Riley who knows yandere!reader is stalking him. he's a military man, he's gonna hear you creep and watch him outside of his window!
simon who knows your the dirty little thief who's been stealing his clothes, mostly boxers. simon who keeps all your stupid notes that you write for him, they're normally weird but sweet in a really, really creepy way.
'si! you looked so pretty in the shower today, played with myself while looking at your pretty cock today! from your secret admirer ♡' you would leave him with a lazy drawing of a heart on his bathroom mirror.
'hey my love, you're finally home...look at the little gift i sent you on your phone!' he cocks an eyebrow, this was different? no, corny heart? no, 'from your secret admirer'? no weird, perverted stuff? just a simple note? that made simon confused, sure - the notes you give him were perverse and weird and should've made anyone who read them feel hella uncomfortable but the fact you didn't write anything odd in this specific note seemed a whole lot more creepy than it normally does.
he shrugs and takes his phone out of his pocket, clicking on the random number notifcation, as per usual, from how many times you've texted him he should really save your number. his eyes widen to see a picture of you, without your usual mask. wait a minute, he remembers you! you're the medic at work.
he couldn't believe it, you!? but your one of the sweetest and innocent people he knows there, in fact maybe even the sweetest. always treating solider's with care. always comforting soliders if they are surfering emotionally or physically. always cheering people up. always having a bright smile on you're no matter how shit the situation is. always putting a smile on people's faces.
he takes a good look at you, sheesh you were so pretty, he's finished staring at your face for a good long while, his eyes shift to the other side of the photo. his eyes shoot wide open again to see you next to a dead body of a blonde woman. a large cut in the middle of her stomach while organs hang out of her. gory much!
he groans out of digust until - wait a minute! he recognises theml? oh yeah, it's the girl from last week, the one who tried to get his number. his wide eyes slowly turn shift back into normal and he smirks and laughs. replying to your messages with:
mylove🤍: Was this out of pure jealously?
you hear a ding in your pocket while trying to dispose of the body. you gasp to see a message from simon, everytime you texted him, he would never reply always leaving you on opened. you were surprised when he actually did reply! you clicked on the notifcation, taking you to your chats. you giggle and immediately you realize how formally he texts, how boring until you finally read it, guess he's just as sane as you.
you: yup
he snickers at your childish reply.
mylove🤍: You gonna do this everytime a girl flirts with me?
you: yup
mylove🤍: Guess I should let girls flirt with me more often then, hm?
your laughed at the text, does he seriously not care that your literally killing people out of pure jealously!? i guess not, he's literally saying he'll let girls flirt with him just so you can slaughter them later.
you: dont tell me u want me to kill more girls for u si?
mylove🤍: Is that not what I've just implied?
you bit your lip at that, your crush is willingly let you kill people for him, it's like your dream come true.
you: i guess ill have continue doing it then
mylove🤍: I guess so.
your heat dropped at the next message he sent you.
mylove🤍: Also did not think you would be the cute medic from work though.
shit!
you forgot to blur out your face...
*✧・゚: *✧・゚
wanna know more about me —> here
masterlist —> here
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MCD Rewrite - Gene
BRUUUHHHHHHH his palette FOUGHT me dude. I wanted it to include red with some blue undertones to reflect his brother, while at the same time he needed to be wearing mostly black and stuff since he’s more cloak and dagger + his magick type. So hopefullyyyy it comes across
Text on the image is under the cut!
+ Older brother of Dante, after their mother left them, he took care of him
+ He was very protective and supportive of Dante (aka can, has, and will beat tf out of transphobes)
+ Was born with magicks, specifically the ability to overshadow (basically possession + meat puppets) and would use this to steal/ get opportunities for him and his brother, much to Dante’s chagrin
+ Conflicted, one day Dante vents to an adult he thought he could trust about the moral delima but uh oh! The bitch was lying and cannot be trusted. He rallies the town and they go on a witch hunt, burning Gene at the stake (part of this can be seen on Dante’s sheet)
+ Thanks to working with the guards, he comes back as a shadow knight. This new magicks melded well with his innate abilities, allowing him to not only quickly climb the ranks, but to also become shadow itself.
+ I like to think that his power motifs differ from the straight up flame abilities most of the knights wield, because (A) not only does it blend well with his powers, but his personality too and (B) the dood is a bit scared of fire
+ Most of his body is made up of burn scar tissue, and thanks to revival magicks he’s able to still move around p easily and stuff, but he still has to wear compression clothes, treat the burn sights with care, and has horrible tremors. Not to mention his fine motor skills are basically gone
+ He’s got a quiet but authoritative Deep raspy voice thanks to being a burnt chicken nugget
Extra Notes
+ He becomes desaturated when uses smoke abilities (specifically when he turns into smoke
+ Compression wraps and shirt to help w burn scars pain and he has more underneath his baggy pants and such
+ There is a scar chart revealing burn scars covering most of his body, all the way up to his neck
+ He/Him
+ Age: 21
+ Height: 6’ 1”
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Child of Ares x Reader Thoughts ⚔ you will never be unloved by me, you are too well tangled in my soul...
🖤 It was love at first sight but they did not know that, not yet at least. All they knew was that they were looking at you from the other side of the bonfire one night and you were laughing at something your sisters were saying...and you were pretty. So, so pretty, your laugh like music and your eyes so bright. When did you get so pretty? How had they not noticed before?
So they start paying attention to you more and more, noticing little things.
How lovely your smile was, how kind you were to the younger campers, all of your hobbies and interests (they'll take extra note of what you like, what music you listen to, what books you read, and try to learn about it just to know you a little bit more).
🖤 Oh, and they will try to impress you a lot. Like, a LOT. Showing you how strong/tough/brave they are, in hopes that you might like that kind of thing. Trying to catch your attention as they train, putting their all into capture the flag and chariot races and the like.
But when the first thing you mention liking about them is something totally different (how clever they are for coming up with an idea/how pretty their eyes are/what a nice laugh they have) they LOST THEIR MIND and practically smiled all damn day.
And if you didn't say it to them but to somebody else?
They'll tease you by hinting about it or outright bringing it up, just to watch you blush and trip over your words as they give you a wink.
🖤 A lot of children of Ares aren't classically romantic, they mostly express romance through touch and acts of service (they LOVE doing stuff for you) and being extra protective of you.
Oh, you need help with something? They volunteer without even asking what it is.
Somebody picked on you? Well, sounds like somebody is about to have a fist in their face because NOBODY messes with Y/N (except for them, gentle teasing is a love language for them).
You're going on a quest? They're coming. No, they aren't asking for permission, they are coming whether you like it or not (but you like it so it's cool).
🖤 But they are bold and once they figure out that this is love, they'll make a move. Most just do it without thinking about it, pulling you away to a quiet place and confessing, maybe kissing you quickly, almost shyly at first.
Others MIGHT ask a child of Aphrodite for advice, just to male it more romantic.
🖤 Nobody ever notices when a Child of Ares is in love EXCEPT for their siblings, it's only ever obvious to them and them alone. One moment you're just friends (or if this one is extra subtle, no one realized that you even knew each other to begin with) and the next you're dating, holding hands as you walk to dinner together and it's baffling to the rest of camp.
🖤 Trains with you, not only to impress you but to make sure you can be safe out there. They worry over you so much and only feel safe when you're at camp/together. But they also dream of having some little life with you, if they're lucky, some little house and a bed to share and just...being happy.
Yeah, they think about that kind of thing a lot.
But you're the only one who knows about it though and you think about it too.
🖤 VERY physically affectionate, especially when things become more official. Some are more bold and will always have an arm around you/kiss your cheek/holds your hand out in the open. Staking their claim, you know? Others are more private, stealing a kiss when no one is looking, smiling at you and saying 'I love you' without a single sound. But there are things they all adore:
massaging sore muscles after training, kissing their battle scars, cleaning up their wounds, and them just wanting to hold you after a fight because it feels so happy and safe.
🖤 If one of you is a year-rounder and one isn't, they'll send you letters a lot. It's nothing flowery, very simple and straight forward, but very romantic in their own way. They mention thinking they saw you and got so happy, only to realize it was somebody who "isn't as pretty as you" and got mad over it; they heard your favorite song on the radio and smiled the whole way home; they dreamed about you and for the first time in forever, slept soundly.
And one time you mentioned missing them and they just showed up, having ditched and gotten all the way there on their own.
You made them promise not to do it again (because it's dangerous and foolish and terribly romantic) but kissed them anyway so...they don't regret it too much.
🖤 Even when you're together they will slip you love notes on scraps of paper (and when they find out that you've kept every last one, they almost cry it makes them so happy).
🖤 Little things: a deep, scratchy tired voice that makes your heart skip a beat; looking at you so passionately and softly whenever they can; walking you to your cabin every night and leaning against the door just to talk to you forever and ever; wrapping their arms around you to "correct" your form in archery/training/literally anything they think sounds like a good excuse; loving it when you wear their shirts/jackets, they always give you a jacket when you're cold.
🖤 Oh, all children of Ares are, like, super warm. Winter cuddling is always cozy and warm.
🖤 They give you a necklace (actually a set of dog tags) they always wear and you give them a ring. They have a habit of playing with it, twisting it when thinking of something or missing you. When they can't wear it for safety reasons, they keep it on a chain and play with that instead.
🖤 You know how Percy kept a picture of Annabeth in his binder? They have a picture of you on them at all times. They look at it before battle and before they fall asleep and first thing in the morning, smiling like a fool in love.
Someone stole it from them once.
Let's just say nobody ever made that mistake again and leave it at that, okay?
🖤 There's this meadow not far from the camp that's surrounded by GIANT trees, covered in hearts and initials from couples throughout the years. Once you become official, they carve your names up there with the knife they always keep. They like taking you there, laying in the tangled grass and wildflowers, always stopping to touch the carving.
🖤You know the classic "watches a scary movie to scare your date into cuddling with you" thing? Yeah, they are so doing it. Maybe you're actually scared, maybe you're just faking it because you know what they want and you want it too, but it's still so cute.
🖤 They'll never admit it but...they have hunger for the softness. And you are soft, loving them and taking care of them in a way no one ever has before. They always get hurt so you start keeping a first aid kit on your person; you always have their favorites snacks at the ready; if somebody asks a question about them, you know the answer, and if someone criticizes them, you're the first to defend them.
🖤 Dates are cozy. Small hikes up to some pretty place to have a picnic; movie nights all cuddled up in a blanket fort; sitting by the lake and sharing candy, just talking for hours; driving somewhere far far away, their hand resting on your thigh as an old rock love ballad plays.
Sweet, simple memories.
One day, they want to make dinner with/for you, dance with you in the kitchen, fall sleep watching movies on the couch, and just live so happily.
🖤 The children of Ares are passionate, they love deeply and wildly. You will never have to doubt if they're love is true, it's just so obvious and pure. They are loyal, gentle and wild all at the same time, finding a reason to fight within your love.
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I finally got why I love so much the "dragons are gone" ending in the books while I hate it in the movies:
The books set the dragons free.
The movies simply sent them away.
That's basically the idea but I had a vision yesterday at 3am so I will be getting into detail below the cut.
The books have a very strong message about slavery. Some would say that it is a concept that is only important within the context of the last five or four books, but the ones that have been paying attention to the saga as a whole knows that there are things happening in the background. You know, stuff like
People eating dragons
People stealing dragons from their families so
The dragons can serve the vikings
And they're expected to obey because
People threaten to turn them into bags.
That's mostly the first book.
Dragons are constantly showed as unsatisfied with the status quo trough out the books, some more annoyed with the vikings than others. We have complete monologues from different dragons before the war is even a possibility. Sincerely, when it happens, it feels natural.
The idea of freeing the dragons is not one that comes up in the last book, not even close. The first time it is considered an option is in book 9 (I think), and, by the time being, we've already stablish lots of concepts as slavery within human beings, the dangers of a war, how this could lead to the end of all and freeing the dragons is the only option.
It is fatalist to say the least, but it's not going out of nowhere. There is a lot of worldbuilding (more on that later), but it is also the right thing to do. By the time Hiccup is presenting the option, Cowell has made us root for the dragons to be free and wild and do whatever they want, even if what they want is to hide under sea for thousands of years. Or if they don't want, or if the want to but just not in that moment, they can do it.
Oh, yes, because they leave GRADUALLY.
It is a sad ending, but still manages to get as satisfactory because, yet again, we know this happens and the books remind us this will happen eventually every time they can. “There were dragons when I was a boy” is literally the first phrase in the saga.
And then we got the movies.
The movies never followed the books. Like, not very much. The writers decided that they wanted to tell a story of a broken relationship between a father and a son while using dragons, the heroic and prophetic aspects of the books were getting on the way of that and they scrapped the idea. So, no, you can't tell me the movies actually follow the books.
However, if you're very technical, you know the Hiccup we see in the movies resembles Hiccup I, the one that stopped the war between vikings and dragons in the books, stablishing an equal relation between the two races. And this idea of the movies being a prequel can work for the second and specially the first movie, disregarding the fact that there are no prophetic or magical elements at all.
But THW exist and... Exist.
Suddenly the writers and producers decide that they want to follow the books and want to get rid of the dragons, something that is completely against the message of the other two movies.
(I am just talking about the movies, the shows-books relationship is very different and I will someday make a post ranting about it)
The movies do NOT talk about the dangers of dragons being with vikings or how the vikings mistreat the dragons or how bad is slavery or anything like that. The second movie does, yes, but the second movie also sends a message about how people benefit of being with dragons. They have their dragons and they're strong because of that friendship. Being at war with one another only brings loss and suffering for both bands while being together promises an actual future. A bright future that no one imagined before the first movie and that now they cling to.
Dragons and vikings are friends and together cand do basically anything.
That's a very strong message, you know?
And you know what? The third movie decided that such a strong and important message about friendship should leave the franchise completely.
“Free the dragons” it's a concept that doesn't fit with the movies. They're not slaved, they're not away from wildness and, most importantly, they CHOOSE to be with the vikings in the first place. They are already equals, they can do what they want and, you know, they are with the vikings because they want to.
But no, let's do a movie about letting friends go as if it could actually fit in the saga.
(I know it could actually fit but the execution was terrible).
As I said before, the movies resembles Hiccup I befriending dragons and we know how it ends. And someone who has never read the books will go and say "well, it was bound to end that way, why are you mad?” I tell you the difference right now: there's 1000 years of difference between the befriending and the parting in the book, 1000 years in wich we witness the deterioration of said friendship (from being friends and equals to being slaves). That's no what happens in the movies. The films give us 6 years and the only deterioration is within Toothless' character and how they made him a horny dog.
The dragons shouldn't have leave. This was a whim from the writers that thought that ending both stories the same way would be cool. It isn't. At all.
Long story short, it doesn't fit thematically. The movies and the books have different themes with different concepts and different characterizations of the dragons. While the books got story building and present the theme's since the beginning, the movies get it out of no where ignoring the themes in previous works.
Anyways, go read the books they're jewels and the ending isn't as shitty as thw make it look
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also: I mostly switched over from saying "antipsychiatry" to psych abolition after I started to see more groups like CPA use it, and thought I'd share some of my thoughts on it.
antipsychiatry is a fundamental part of psych abolition for me, but i think my definition of psych abolition contains a lot more. first, there's a lot more things than just psychiatry that i want to abolish and transform--the whole mental health system and many different belief systems, types of providers, forms of treatment, and types of incarceration that are encompassed in that. i think it's important to name and identify the particular harms of psychiatry as a value system in the way it is the strictest example of pathologizing, medicalizing, and the strongest adherer to the purely biomedical model of illness and how this creates so much harm. but i think that there are also so many other harmful structures + belief systems within the whole mental health system. i also sometimes see therapists, for example, portraying themselves as alternatives to psychiatry, and while that's true in the sense that they are a different treatment option than a psychiatrist, they are often still harmful actors in their own rights and entangled with the state in an equally bad way.
second thing for me is that i think it's really important to intentionally build cross movement solidarity, especially with the prison abolition movement and to expand the way psych survivors currently support support people fighting for abolition of all forms of incarceration. (i drew inspiration from sins invalid and the 10 principles of Disability Justice). I see so many people in psych survivor spaces saying " I can't believe we were treated like prisoners on the ward" with the implication that it's fine if prisoners are treated that way, but it's bad when it happens to them. i think that's fucked up and i think that any psych survivor movement that doesn't actively support people incarcerated in prisons is a movement that does nothing to dismantle white supremacy. we need to be able to recognize the ways carceral logics operate in many different structures, and approach our activism as a shared struggle, where we constantly are led by those most impacted. so i think that naming what we're doing as "abolition" is important (with the important caveat that our organizing must then actually be abolitionist, and especially for white organizers, that we need to learn about the history of abolition, actively support the Black leaders and thinkers who have created the prison abolition movement and not center ourselves, that we actually have to be actively involved in supporting abolitionist work happening in your area, instead of just stealing the work of Black abolitionist scholars to use it for our own benefit without any credit or reciprocity, that we need to actively interrogate ways white supremacy culture and antiblackness are showing up in our movement places so that we aren't inviting our comrades who are people of color into spaces that are not safe for them, or exploiting our comrades of color by expecting them to do the work of dismantling the racism within our shared organizing spaces--don't call yourself a psych abolitionist if you still call the cops on your homeless neighbors, if your solutions to psych incarceration contribute to gentrification, if you refuse to support currently incarcerated comrades, for example.)
third thing is that antipsychiatry as a specific term is often associated with the sociologist theory from the 1960s, some of which i think is useful, some of which comes from antisemetic and racist psychiatrists who should not be given any legitimacy. antipsychiatry also often gets associated with cults like scientology. although i think that scientologists bastardize a lot of antipsychiatry stuff and weaponize it for their own ends, a lot of the public thinks of them if you say antipsychiatry, and it can cause misconceptions. also think that people sometimes assume antipsychiatry is inherently against medication and while i don't think that's our responsibility to clear up every time people misread our words on purpose, i think it's been a lot more helpful for me to talk about medication in the context of autonomy, harm reduction, war on drugs, and the ways that psychiatry creates issues to consent, autonomy, informed use, risk reduction, etc etc etc. and i think psych abolition helps me do that a little better.
i get in a lot of conversations with people who say "well from what i've seen you are just against institutionalization. why not just say that instead of attacking psychiatry?" and my answer is always if we want to end institutionalization, we have to end the structures, belief systems, and power dynamics of psychiatry--psychiatry is one of the logics that enables institutionalization to continue, and abolishing institutionalization without abolishing the structures that allow it to continue mean that it just pops up again in a new form with a new name (asylums to hospitals to group homes etc etc etc). so i think psych abolition to me is a clearer way to encompass the ways that all these systems are interconnected, and that when we're fighting for mad liberation, the right for mad/neurodivergent/mentally ill people to access care, support, healing on our own terms, to be free from institutionalization and violent treatment, and have the right to exist as mad people, whether or not we're "cured."
TL;DR: I switched to saying "psych abolition" rather than antipsychiatry even though there are many core ideas of antipsychiatry that I agree with. I think that for me, psych abolition helps clear up some misconceptions that people have about antipsychiatry, more clearly connects to prison abolition, and makes it clear that we need to transform more of the mental health system than just psychiatry.
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Can I ask for switch!Lee Know but mostly Sub x fem!reader with the promts:
9,
19,
36
and
65?
cardboard walls
pairing: switch!minho (mainly dom) x switch!fem!reader (mainly sub)
note: hi anon! thanks for the ask! i am going to remove prompt #9 since this is an unestablished relationship, hope i haven't ruined it😭 hope u enjoy this fic!
prompts:
🐱 19. "i'm done being just roommates."
🐱 36. "i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to cum in my pants."
🐱 65. "i love you."
warnings: pervert!minho, roommate!minho, masturbation (both m and f), penetrative sex (p in v), unprotected sex, minho steals your panties (?), nipple play m. receiving, i think there's more but tell me if i missed any important ones
minors do not interact
ever since he's met you, he swore on his life you would be the only girl he'd fall for.
minho was in love with you. no, obsessed with you. he'd watch your every move and mentally note down what were your dislikes and the things you loved.
the day he met you, he felt like he's never seen anyone with a more beautiful personality than you. he met you through his friend, your warm smile while greeting him never leaving his memory. after you two became very close, you both decided to live together after graduating high school to save some money.
actually, he was the one to present the idea, getting you hooked on the benefits. minho honestly just wanted to get closer with you and see your living arrangements. "honestly," he thought.
"hey! do you need your laundry done?" minho loudly knocks on your bedroom door, making you lose your focus from the tv. you jump out of bed, grabbing your laundry basket and opening the door. "yeah! thanks so much for this minho, you are seriously a livesaver," you giggle, handing minho your laundry basket.
minho walks to the laundry room and starts emptying out your clothes, when he sees a lacy light pink pair of panties in them. he feels his dick already twitching in his pants at the thought of you wearing them, but the fact that they were dirty makes him half-hard already.
was he really the type to be doing this? stealing his roommates panties and jerking off with them later? his thoughts raced his mind, until he eventually gives up and stuffs your panties into his pocket as he empties the rest of your laundry into the machine.
every day after you come home from your night shift, you would always masturbate in your room to rid the memories of a long day. today was no different.
today you come home a bit later than minho expected, worrying him a bit until he heard the door unlock and you tiptoeing to your room. he jumps up, immediately leaning against the wall. oh, how he felt like the happiest man on earth having your room right next to his with these cardboard walls.
you close your bedroom door and sit on your bed as you already start to unzip your jeans and lay your hand on your closed pussy. you sigh in relief, digging your fingers in gently.
minho presses his ear more into the wall, softly palming his clothed erection as he shuts his eyes and let the pleasure take over his body, from head to toe. you slid your hand in your panties, already slipping out a loud moan, forgetting that it's currently midnight. minho lets out a soft whine leave his throat upon hearing you as he took out his dick. grabbing your panties from his pocket, he quickly laid it on his dick, admiring the view before jerking off.
he continued jerking himself off with your panties, trying to guess and match your speed. your moans were getting louder, you were getting closer. you cum with a shout of minhos name, automatically making minho cum, as if on cue.
minho was overwhelmed, trying to puzzle out what just had happened. did you just moan his name? minho couldn't take this anymore. he quickly takes off your now cum-covered panties off his dick and shoves his dick back inside his sweatpants before he marches up to your room, taking a deep breath before knocking on your door. you nearly did a double take, checking the time before mumbling "shit.." and rubbing your head.
"o-oh! yeah, come in," you call out, covering yourself with your blanket. "listen, i'm done being just roommates. to be honest, i overheard you in my room and got horny," minho mumbles, standing in the doorway.
he felt a sudden surge of confidence upon seeing your nervous state, walking in your room with a smirk on his face. he walks up to your bed, leaning down so you two were face-to-face. "now.. didn't you just scream my name earlier? hm?," minho smiles, tilting his head like a cat. "not answering, huh?," he asks, lifting up your blanket, taking it off completely to reveal your hands still in your panties.
"still rubbing yourself even after i caught you? have you no shame? c'mon, continue," he says sweetly, pulling up a chair to sit down right beside you. you continue your movements on your pussy, whimpering here and there as you were being overstimulated.
"did i ask you to keep your panties on? take them off. get rid of those jeans too before i rip them off of you." he says, arms crossed. you lift your hips just enough so you can take off your pants and panties, shivering at the contact the cold air made with your now bare cunt, continuing to touch yourself.
after a few minutes, minho sits on the bed and halts you, sitting on his knees. he bends down just enough to be face-to-face with your glistening pussy, begging to be eaten. he wastes no time as he dives right in, licking your nub and fingering you with his hand. you immediately arch your back, already on the brink of cumming.
"fuck! fuck, minho, i'm cumming!" you breathe out, minho groaning into your clit, vibrations making you reach ecstasy. he sits up, face soaked in your juices, licking his lips. "good girl," he grins, sitting up.
he sits down on the bed, hands behind his head on the beds headboard with a giant smirk as he playfully looks down at his pants and then to you, signaling he wants you to sit on him. you smirk back as you sit on him, your clit rubbing his boner. you kiss his neck as you rub your clit on his clothed erection, the friction making him throw his head back, basking in the pleasure.
you tug on his shirt, helping him get it off as you peck his nipple. an unexpected long whine leaves him, making your grin even bigger than it already was. you harshfully bite and lick his sensitive nipple, pinching the other one. with the merciless actions you were performing on his nipples, you continue rubbing your clit on his boner, making minho violently shake.
his eyes roll back, "faster, please, please, i want it faster," he whines out, so close to cumming. you rub your clit faster on his clothed length, already feeling like cumming yourself. "fuck, oh my god, y/n," he cries out, cumming in the confines of his sweatpants. he continues shaking with each spurt, sweating buckets. "i'm so sorry. i didn't mean to cum in my pants," minho shyly says.
"aw, don't be shy. it's cute. by the way, i didn't cum yet, kitty..," you start, tugging down his sweatpants slowly as he lifts his hips to let you take them off faster. you awed at his cock for a second, red and leaking, both dick and sweatpants covered in pearly white cum. you sit on him fast, not even letting him or yourself adjust to the feeling.
you groan out loud as minho was on the brink of crying from sheer overstimulation. you bounce up and down, holding on to his shoulders for support. minho quickly regains composure, thrusting up into you once, so hard and so deep, you could feel him in your stomach. you cry out loudly as you harshly clench on him, suprised from his sudden change.
he smirks evilly at you, hot tears still in his eyes, ears and lips still red. he continues thrusting up into you, both of you close to heaven. you both cum at the same time, you collapsing onto him, both of you breathing heavily.
he lifts your head up and pecks your head, looking at you fondly. "i love you," he whispers. you peck him back and play with his hair. "i love you back," you whisper.
"go out with me?"
© leebitkitty.
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You can't con the Con-Man
Pairing: Magician!Taehyun x PickPocket!OC
Summary: A pickpocketer finds a fancy looking man in the middle of the street. He's wearing a neat suit, his hair is styled nicely, over all he looks clean. She comes to conclusion that since he looked fancy, he's gotta carry some cash on him. She however does not expect him to catch her, and she absolutely does not she take into account that he could be a magician and con-artist.
cw/tw: Kissing, make-out session, hickeys, fingering, unprotected sex (wrap it if you wanna tap it), orgasm denial, creampie, slight breeding kink, choking, cunnilingus
Jiwoo looked for her next offer. It was hard considering the fact that she was in the Jung-district, which meant almost no one carried enough cash to even risk anything.
She sighed. She had to go to Gangnam, which she didn't want to do since the cops knew her a bit too well.
But then again, she liked having a roof over her head as well as sleeping on a full stomach.
''Fuck'' She mumbled and turned her heel towards the subway.
She kept her head down as she got on the train. She was hoping there would be no controls this time, since she jumped the gate and hadn't paid for a ticket. It was rarely any controls, but she had seen thos annoying, blue-clad men coming down the trains.
Her prayers were heard and she got off the train in Gangnam. As soon as she stepped off the train, she walked into a giant flood of people.
The clock was 5 in the afternoon, meaning everyone were on their way home after work.
''Perfect'' She mumbled as she bumped into people, apologized and smiled sweetly, meanwhile her hand dug around in their pocket for something worth stealing.
She was silently thanking her genes and looks. She fit into the Korean beauty standard almost perfectly, and she had an innocent face. No one would ever suspect her to pickpocket. Except the police who already knew her.
Besides, she wouldn't keep the wallet, she'd take cash and throw the wallet in the nearest trashcan. There would be no actual way of proving the cash wasn't hers.
As she made it up to the ground she smirked. She'd already made 100'000₩. Sure, it was two bills, but it was more than she'd ever find in the Jung-district.
The woman kept walking down the streets, bumping into random people she thought looked wealthy enough to loose a few bills. She would never steal from someone who already seemed poor.
She stood by the ugly Gangnam Style statue, doing nothing. She was mostly looking for a new victim. No one was to her liking. Most of the people were either teenagers, kids shopping for their families or old couples, none of which she'd ever pickpocket.
She had a tiny bit of morale.
''Ha!'' She exclaims quietly to herself. She'd found her next victim.
A tall man, probably around the 6 feet mark, clad in a striped suit, nice polished shoes, big doll-like eyes, a kind smile on his lips. He looked rich.
Jiwoo approaches him to take a closer look and notices the small hat infront of him as well as a deck of cards which he shuffled in some fancy way. It did look quite cool, she had to admit.
She took a spot in the front and watched as he performed different card tricks. Whether it was finding someone's card or simply making them appear out of thin air, he made it look simple.
He took a bow and the crowd that had gathered around him applauded. Some people dropped a few bills in his little collectors hat before they left.
He collected his stuff and didn't seem to notice the woman who still watched him. She carefully walked around him and allowed her hand to slip into his, not-so-tight, blazer pocket. She found a couple of bills and grabbed them.
As she tried leaving something stopped her.
A pair of handcuffs, in the other end was the magician. He wore a smirk on his lips. ''Where do you think you're going with my money... Kim Jiwoo?''
Jiwoo froze. She didn't know what to do. ''Uhm... you're not gonna believe me if I said that you dropped them I guess?''
He chuckled and shook his head. ''Nope, hand them back''
A groan left her lips, but she held out the bills for the man to take. ''Are you gonna let me go, or do you plan on keeping me around as a pet?''
''Well, you would make a beautiful pet'' He smirked as he turned to take a better look at her.
''Oh yeah? I'm an expensive bitch''
''I live in Gangnam, sweetheart, I've got money. Judging by your little con attempt, you don't''
Ouch, she thought. Sure, she'd tried stealing his money, sure, he was correct, sure, she deserved the words he used, but still!
''Don't act innocent, we both know I'm right''
The woman only raised an eyebrow. ''Oh yeah? Sure, you are. But let's take a look at you. You're a magician right now, on which you can't make much since not everyone leaves bills, and those who do never leave over 5'000₩, meaning you must have a much better job, or you're con-artist''
The man looked slightly impressed. ''Well, love, you're correct. I work in a boring office during the day, when I'm off the clock I come here and do my magic but simply for entertainment''
''So, you're gonna let me go or?''
''They were never locked, darling. They're from the toyshop around the corner. They were literally like 1'000₩''
Jiwoo's cheeks heated up. Now that he said it, and she actually paid the handcuffs some attention, they looked crappy as hell.
''So, your name is Kim Jiwoo, got a number? Or you wanna borrow mine?'' The man packed up his last things.
''Never give anyone my number, why should you be any different? And how the fuck did you know my name?'' Jiwoo stood by the man as he packed. She'd shoved her hands into her jean's pockets as the wind picked up. No, she didn't bring a hoodie.
''Well, because I didn't tell the police man over there about your failed plan. I recognize your face, you're wanted for pickpocketing. And you really need to keep track of your Credit Cards'' Taehyun held up Jiwoo's Credit Card.
Jiwoo groaned. ''Fine, +81 705 161 423. You got a name?''
''Kang Taehyun'' He bowed elegantly.
''Are you a prince or sum?'' The woman raised an amused eyebrow. ''Why do you care who I am anyways? I literally tried stealing your money''
''You failed anyways, and I have your Credit Card, so I'd say I won. And you're pretty. Why wouldn't I want to get to know a pretty girl?''
Jiwoo still didn't understand. ''What if I'm a minor?''
''As I said, I've seen your wanted posters, I don't think they'd care that much about a minor'' Taehyun finished packing up all his tricks and turned to her. ''Wanna join me for dinner? On me''
The woman was much to hesitant. Sure, the man was absolutely gorgeous and he was kind, but she also had never allowed someone to be "close" to her, no matter how cheesy it sounded. Nor did she really trust the man.
But then again, free food.
''Fine''
''Well we're gonna have to swing by a dress shop because no restaurant in Gangnm is gonna let you in looking ike that'' Taehyun motioned to her ripped jeans, which wasn't design, and her worn out t-shirt that could pass for a dress due to how outstretched it was.
''I have no-''
''I didn't say you should pay. I simply said we needed to get you one. I'll pay for that as well''
Jiwoo was hesitant. ''Why are you so determined to take me to dinner? You met me a minute ago''
''No sweetheart, I'm a con-artist, I've seen you a lot. I've seen you pickpocket for years. I'm impressed. But you know the poor, blind man you gave 10'000₩ last week? Me'' He smirked and bowed.
''Not as impressed. Happens all the time''
''I made 100'000₩'' Taehyun smirked and raised an eyebrow. ''How much did you make? Minus the 10'000₩ you gave me''
''Fuck you'' She mumbled under her breath.
Taehyun raised an amused eyebrow. ''Only if you want to''
He started walking, and Jiwoo followed blindly. She had no idea where they were going. She never spent much time in Gangnam, she was usually in and out within the hour.
The man, who she'd met 10 minutes ago, dragged her inside a giant gown shop. It held floor gowns, princess looking dresses, puffy gowns, floral gowns and so on. They were all kinds of colors.
Jiwoo walked up to a random gown and checked the price tag. Her eyes widened. ''Taehyun, these gowns are literally 3'000'000₩, and those are the cheap ones''
''And as I said earlier, I'm paying. Pick anyone you want, Princess''
The women in the shop looked her up and down with judging faces. Sure, she was dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and an oversized t-shirt, and she hadn't showered in a week, but she felt judged.
She found a white gown with a slit. Sure, she wasn't much for gowns, but it just spoke to her.
Women in Korea were generally quite short and petite, but Jiwoo was (apparently) even shorter. ''Excuse me, do you have this in size 44?''
The women who worked there only laughed. ''I don't think you can afford that, darling''
''I didn't ask you if I could afford it, I asked you if you have this in my size''
The women only continued laughing at the single woman standing in the shop, gown in her hands that was way too big.
Taehyun let out a loud groan. ''Assist her, would you? I've got money to spend. If you're not gonna help her, I might as well just take my Black Card here, and go somewhere else''
The women were suddenly very, very excited to help the woman find a dress to her liking.
''Would you like to take a shower? No extra cost''
Taehyun sat down in one of the velvet futons. He smiled to himself. She was probably the most gorgeous woman he'd ever laid eyes upon.
Jiwoo came out 40 minutes later, dressed in the white gown, which was slightly lose at the cleavage, not leaving much to the imagination, it was tight around the aist and flowy from the hips and down. The slit was high which made her legs appear longer.
On her feet were a pair of white LouBoutin, which added an extra five inches to her short height.
Her hair had been blow dried and curled by the clerks and flowed down her back in perfect waves.
Taehyun walked up to her and took her hand in his. ''How do I look?'' Jiwoo asked as Taehyin spun her around. Due to Jiwoo never wearing heels before, she tripped over her own feet.
''Easy there'' Taehyun chuckled and wrapped a securing arm around her waist, and pulled her against her own body. ''I'll pay, and then we'll head out. Sounds good to you?''
The woman nodded. ''Uhm, will-''
''No, we're not taking your disgusting old cothes with us. You can burn them. We'll buy new clothes for you''
Jiwoo raised an eyebrow. ''So you're saying I'll see more of you?''
''Only if you want to''
Taehyun was laughing loudly as Jiwoo spoke. ''No you did not!''
''I did! I swear! So, I was running away from his asshole of a police, and he was catching up since he was literally twice my height, and so I didn't know what to do! Then I remembered something my friend told me, flash a man and your problems will go away, so I did''
Tears were filling Taehyun's eyes as he continued laughing. ''Oh my god, kind of wish I was on the other end though''
Jiwoo smacked his arm and glared at the man. ''How dare you?''
''With the cleavage on that dress you're not leaving much to my imagination, altough, uhm, my imagination is... that now''
The woman leaned back in her chair and crossed her legs. ''Oh yeah?''
''Yeah, you're hot, I'm hot, let's fuck'' Taehyun stated bluntly. He leaned back and looked at Jiwoo through hooded eyes.
Jiwoo would never admit it to the man's face, but it made her hot. She liked his burning, mysterious gaze.
The waiter came over with the tab, which Taehyun quickly paid. The two left the restaurant and waited for the valet to drive the car to the front.
Taehyun had a tight grip of Jiwoo's hips. ''Quite sure you're gonna leave a mark if you don't release my hips''
''That'd mean you're mine, eh? Wouldn't it look beautiful?''
''Taehyun-'' Before Jiwoo could scold the man the valet pulled up with the slick, black Audi r8.
Jiwoo sat down in the passenger seat again and Taehyun closed the door behind her. As he sat down in the driver's set he smirked. ''So, you're coming to mine?''
''I would never fuck someone on the first dinner-''
''Stop lying to yourself, I saw you shifting when I stared you down before''
The woman blushed and looked out the window. ''No''
''Don't deny it, Princess'' He smirked and started the car. ''I know you want me''
Jiwoo decided to not reply and continued staring out the window. Taehyun only chuckled and drove towards his own place, one hand on the steering wheel and the other one resting in Jiwoo's lap.
She tried ignoring his, rather big, hand on her left thigh. It was warm, and squeezing her flesh every now and then. Jiwoo tried her best to ignore it, but he made it very hard.
As he squeezed her thigh once more Jiwoo'd gotten enough. She laid her hand on his and held it in a firm grip. Taehyun smirked. He enjoyed the effect he had on her.
''You are such a tease''
''I know, two words and I'll do it''
Jiwoo looked at him. ''I am not gonna say that''
Taehyun chuckled. ''Okay, I'll leave you high and not-so-dry''
She was silently cursing him in her head. She was hoping he'd completely ignore her and take her in his car.
''I know you want me to take you here, in the car. But I'm gonna need to hear you say those two magic words''
She continued cursing him. ''Fine! Fuck me!''
Jiwoo had never seen a man pull over that fast. She also could not understand how he pulled her into his lap with one swift motion.
''Wanna ride me? Or do you want me tot ake you in the backseat?'' Taehyun raised an eyebrow and massaged her waist.
''I don't care''
''Backseat then'' Jiwoo followed his orders and climbed into the backseat. Taehyun made sure to smack her ass before following her lead.
Taehyun didn't waste anymore more time and leaned down to press his lips against hers. Jiwoo wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him flush against her body.
A small chuckle left her lips as she felt him grinding against her. ''And you teased me?''
''Well Princess, we're gonna see who's the one begging soon'' He pulled her panties to the side and looked at Jiwoo. ''As I said, not-so-dry? Hm?''
His hands ran up her thighs, fingers moving too lightly for Jiwoo's liking. Goosebumps grew on her legs, causing her to shudder.
He leaned down and pressed his lips against hers again. He smirked to himself as he inserted his fingers in her pussy. A small, breathy moan left her lips.
As his fingers pumped inside of her Jiwoo could only moan. His hands were huge, and they surely knew what they were doing.
His fingers nudged her g-spot, forcing a louder moan from her lips. ''Taehyun~'' She whined. ''Do that again!''
Taehyun wore an, almost sadistic, smile on his lips as he repeated his previous action, forcing more pornographic moans from Jiwoo. ''Such pretty sounds, Princess. You're such a little slut''
Jiwoo felt embarrassed, but she enjoyed his degrading comments. ''Fuck, yes, for you Taehyun''
He curled his fingers, making Jiwoo buck her hips slightly. As she clenched around his fingers he sped up his action. ''Are you gonna cum? Hm?''
She nodded as her whole vocabulary was gone within a second.
Just before she could cum around his fingers, he ripped them from her heat and smirked. ''Nuh-uh, not yet'' A small whine left her lips as she tried sitting up. ''Taehyun~''
''Nuh-uh to that as well'' He pushed her back down.
He backed up even further and hooked his arms under her knees. He leaned down and pressed his lips to her heat. A whine left Jiwoo's lips. He chuckled to himself as his ego grew, before diving back into her pussy.
He was also slightly embarrassed. One taste was all it took and he was addicted to her. The way she tasted, the way she smelled, the way she reacted to his actions, the way she moaned his name.
Jiwoo's hands found Taehyun's hair and grabbed a firm hold. A small groan left his lips as she pulled slightly. ''Fuck, keep pulling''
A small chuckle left Jiwoo's lips, but continued pulling slightly at his hair. Her chuckle was cut off as he plunged his tongue back into her hole.
The lewd sounds that echoed in the car only made Jiwoo wetter, if that was even possible. He ate as if he was a starved man, as if he hadn't eaten since forever.
''Taehyun, can I please cum this time?''
''Nope'' He sat back up and wiped his mouth. ''Am I too mean to you, Princess?''
Jiwoo wanted to nod, but she enjoyed that he used her as he wished. ''Yes, but for some reason I like it''
''You're a sadist'' He chuckled and leaned down. Jiwoo was ready for a kiss, but he stopped right before they met. ''You like pain? And degrading? You like being embarrassed by me?''
''Maybe?'' She found Taehyun's hand and brought it towards her neck. ''Choke me?''
Taehyun froze for a second. Sure, he'd had his fair share of freaky people, but never one he cared about.
But he was, weirdly, into it. He chuckled in a sadistic manner and wrapped his hand around her neck. ''So pretty''
With the other hand he undid his belt, which turned Jiwoo on a bit too much, and pulled down his pants together with his underwear. Without warning he pushed his dick inside her.
Jiwoo's jaw fell open as he bottomed out. Taehyun removed his hand from her neck and pushed his fingers in her mouth instead.
After a short moment of letting her adjust to him he started thrusting hips in a slow pace. He wanted her to feel every inch of him.
''I thought you said you were gonna fuck me'' Jiwoo smirked, knowing she was hitting every nerve he had.
''Oh yeah?''
Taehyun's hands wrapped around Jiwoo's neck again and his hips sped up.
The car shook as he thrusted his hips in an, almost, unhuman pace. Jiwoo had been worried earlier that someone could walk by, those worries were out the window the second he entered her.
''Is this what you were planing when you stole my money?'' Jiwoo shook her head to the best of her abilities. ''Oh yeah?''
Jiwoo could feel herself getting closer, which wasn't hard due to the previous acts. ''Taehyun~ please let me cum''
''Fine''
She clenched around his dick before releasing her orgasm. Taehyun's hips only sped up as she came, smirking sadisticly again as she whined from the sensitivity.
''Fuck, you're so pretty, hm. I'm gonna cum because of you-'' He was about to pull out, but Jiwoo wrapped her arms around his shoulders and pulled him closer. ''-want me to cum in you, hm?''
Jiwoo nodded. ''Fuck, yes!'' She pulled slightly at the ends of his hair.
''Want me to fill you up? Fuck, you'd be pretty with my babies. Don't you agree? Even prettier than now''
Taehyun stopped his thrusts and Jiwoo could feel him twitch. A second later he came in her, filling her to the brim. He pulled out and smiled as he could see his cum leaking out.
He quickly stuffed his fingers in her, pushing everything back in. ''Can't let anything go to waste if we want you swollen, hm?''
No one moved. They kind of just stared at each other.
''You're so pretty'' Taehyun mumbled again, this time an adoring smile on his lips.
Jiwoo chuckled and sat up. She leaned against the, now fogged up, car window. It was cool against her shoulder blades and it felt nice. ''And you're very handsome''
''Wanna move in with me?''
''Wow there. Moving very fast now, are we?'' Another chuckle left her lips as she was about to put on her underwear.
Taehyun was quick to snatch them and stuff them in his pocket. He then shrugged and pulled his own pants on. ''I’m keeping those for easy access'' He winked. ''And to be honest, I kind of just assumed you lived on a park bench or a run down barn''
''How dare you?'' Jiwoo replied jokingly. ''I'll think about it. Now- fucking hell it's steamy'' She painted a heart on the window.
''All you, Princess'' He leaned over her and pressed his finger against the window before he started to write something.
''We just fucked <3''
''Taehyun!''
''That's my name, don't wear it out unless you're screaming it'' He winked and climbed back into the driver's seat.
''Fuck you''
''Round 2 already?'' He smirked as Jiwoo climbed into the passenger's seat.
''Drive''
''Yes, Princess''
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WIBTA for asking my niece to return the stuff she stole from me?
My (F26) niece (F17) is a fairly recent acquisition to the family. Her mother got married to my brother three years ago, and since then she's been adopted by the whole family. We've hit it off instantly and she became sort of a baby sister for me. We talk about books, gossip and she comes to me for advice pretty often. We have an overall great relationship.
However, my niece has the annoying habit of stealing from my house. It's not like she's taking money from my wallet or stealing jewelry, it's mostly cheap stuff (a lot of nail polish, a pair of earrings I bought for 2 dollars, a couple of lip balms, an old plushie), but it's stuff I use regularly and that I miss. This particular nail polish she stole was my favorite and I just can't find another one to buy. At first it didn't make a difference, but it's starting to annoy me for real.
To be clear, I don't think she has a compulsion or anything like that. I don't even think she sees what she does as stealing, because she doesn't hide it from me and she never seems guilty. She also gives me a lot of little gifts that are very similar to the ones she takes: nail polish, small plushies, hair products. I think that, in her head, that means we're trading stuff, but I never asked for the gifts and I also never allowed her to take stuff from me without asking.
This time she really overstepped, although she doesn't know it. She took a small amethyst that used to belong to my late brother (not her stepfather) and also a bracelet that was a gift from a dear friend. She obviously doesn't know the significance of these things, but they are special to me and I want them back.
I talked to her mother about the situation and she explained to me that my niece always did that in her grandma's house and it means she trusts me and feels comfortable in my home. She also said that, if I ask for the things back, my niece might feel embarrassed and not want to spend time at mine anymore.
I don't want my niece to feel uncomfortable in my house and I also don't want to shame her, because I know she doesn't do that with ill intent. However, this habit of taking my things without consulting me is getting out of hand and I want at least the amethyst and the bracelet back.
So, WIBTA for asking for some of my stuff back, even if I know it will put my niece in an uncomfortable position?
What are these acronyms?
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Diamond in the Rough 💎
A/N needed more Striker content, so decided to dedicate a whole blog for it. Mostly because especially with the new episode had a lot more ideas with our favorite cowboy!
This is more of ‘if Striker had an S/O that was on the same strength level as him’ making them equals, it has a bit of angst, some fluff here and there.
Striker prided himself on not needing anyone, not having anyone to lean on.
He normally refused having anyone having a more genuine relationship with him, due to having it all taken away within a blink and not wanting to deal with that pain.
He met you in Wrath, during a hunt for something to eat for dinner. Hunting for the wild hell hogs (or demon hogs) to take down and skin.
It was never an issue for him as he usually was able to, until you stole his catch. Either by stealing, or just simply fighting over it.
Striker was pissed, alongside his horse Bombproof, as he also had to feed his steed. But even though he was- he was… oddly amused. You gotta be real bold to steal from him, he’s one of the most wanted hellborns in wrath and you come outta the blue to steal from him?
Okay… He’ll bite.
He played dumb for a while, doing the exact same routine and waited for you. Letting you take his catches before he was able to have something to track you down.
He’s an assassin, a bounty hunter, all that good stuff and his name is literally Striker- he’d be able to find and strike you down it’s his thing after all.
When he did however… He felt something he did not like, he saw you struggling which every person was- but, here was different. You struggled like he did, it made him hesitate but he still went ahead to confront you.
“Ya’ must be pretty bold to steal from me…” He looked at you and bared his teeth, seeing the fear in your eyes before you ran off to grab a weapon.
He let you pick it up, he wanted to see what he was really facing. Because you might’ve been struggling like he was, but he was a diamond in the rough. He had to see if you were one too.
And he did, he saw- the fight between the two of you went on for a long while because both of you kept constantly besting the other. It was only until both of you were tired and beaten by each other did you both stop.
You could not even do anything when he crawled out and gave one last look at you before slipping away- he gave you a threat on to not attack his prey again.
He thought you would take the bait and actually go after his catches again, but when he when you didn’t he was baffled. The inner primadonna in him was irritated, but he wondered why he was so annoyed.
Then it hit him that he started to enjoy having someone on his level.
Because of this, and how rare he thought it was to find someone equal. He sought you out often, making you surprised on how he kept finding you every time, whenever and wherever.
He took the time to get to know you, to learn whatever he could about you because he started to genuinely like you.
Which eventually led him to care about you, and you started caring about him too. He no longer had to worry about his food being stolen! Maybe even you’ll get him food sometime… Probably as a gift when he’s busy.
Striker noticed his feelings rising, how he could stare at you longer than usual. He started wishing he could hold you.
He realized he started liking you in a not-so platonic way anymore and that scared him truthfully. For as much as he disliked people like Blitzø, his issues were similar as he dreaded losing someone he cared about again.
Dreaded someone would take you away from him, then leave him all alone once more. He didn’t wanna live that, so- he stopped visiting you and practically vanished.
It hurt you, because you started liking him too. Enjoying the close moments you two had together, you eventually decided to take up what he did to you and find him this time.
Finding him all the way back into his hideout, surrounded by railroads.
(Granted you got the help from the Mariachi imps)
You found him moping about, distracting himself by sharpening his knife.
You attempted to confront him calmly about it, but he responded to you coldly- something you were not used to. Even when you two met and fought, he showed some emotion like anger, cockiness, or confidence.
He tried pushing you away until his emotions bubbled out and he said things that he was meaning to say. Not a love confession, but admitting he cared..?
“I don’t wanna spend all this damn time carin’ about ya’-! All this time just to watch ya’ get stolen away from me, by Satan knows what-“ He huffed before looking at you, seeing the mix of hurt yet understanding in your eyes.
He felt bad, so he said nothing else and sat back down expecting you to leave until you sat next to him and leaned on him. That was the start of him realizing, even if he pushed you away- he wanted you around.
—-
(A/N the actual romantic headcanons)
It would never be said out loud, more of like an unspoken commitment to each other that deemed you both as each other’s partners. Either romantically, or sometimes business wise- as he asked you to help him on his bounties or assassinations.
If he really needed the help, he’s still a prideful man and asking for help can bring someone’s pride down.
Hence why he only does it when he really needs help.
He’s not a too vocal guy on genuine romantic feelings, he’s gonna say ‘I love you too’ when you say it but it’ll be much rarer if he says it to you first.
He personally prefers playful flirting.
Which he flirts a lot, in a more playful way than serious romance.
Only on special occasions, maybe like an anniversary he’ll sing you a song on his guitar.
He’ll give you rides on Bombproof (if you made up to the horse for stealing it’s food beforehand)
Striker’s a violent guy as everyone knows, so him being protective of one of the only people that cares about him is practically a given. And with what he’s experienced, in his mind it’s the best action.
His love language is mostly, acts of service, to physical touch either or he loves providing.
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➵ sk8ter boi -> c.b
(first person p.o.v)
⚠︎ smut (mdni)
✎ opposites attract au , non-idol!au
summary : you never thought in a million years to be attracted to a boy like beomgyu. His baggy clothes, scrappy shoes, long hair just wasn’t a click with your elegant dresses, tight skirts, ballet dancer- self , but somehow he managed to steal your attention.
beomgyu x fem. reader
wc : 4.5k
(first post kinda nervous)
____________________________________________
“come one it’ll be fun!” my friend chaewon said shaking my shoulder making me sigh.
i normally love to go out , but today is not it , even though it’s summer, it feels like a crappy , frizzy spring day.
“my hair will get all frizzy and shit chae, it’s too hot anyways for a picnic .” i said making her pout.
“aw come on!! we barely get any breaks from ballet classes , let’s take advantage of it, pretty please? “ i mean she was right , almost everyday did we go to ballet classes with little to no breaks not to mention chaewon is the one that can never go out.
“fineee i’ll go , but if my hair gets all ugly after i’ll blame it on you.”
>>
“isn’t this so cute?” chaewon said as she looked at how all the food and decorations were arranged.
she made some sandwiches that were heart shaped, neatly cut fruit , homemade chocolate chip cookies and strawberry lemonade.
ok i got to give her props for this. almost making me forget how bad i didn’t want to come.
“glad you came ?” yeji , my other friend said.
“i guess this isn’t so bad.”
the three of us began eating and talking about random stuff throughout the afternoon, mostly about ballet since it’s all we do 24/7.
“i’ll try and see if i can miss class tommorow, my feet are in no shape to keep up with practice seriously.” yeji said referring to her injury two days ago.
“you know damn well Ms. jung will go nuts, she hates it when we miss and then she gives you a whole lecture on how much a failure you are for not coming to class.” chae responded making me chuckle and nod.
yeji just sighed in defeated knowing she was right.
as we kept talking we hard noise coming from behind us. more like skateboards rolling.
we turned around to be surprised with a group of skater boys. of fucking course.
“dammit chae, you could’ve at least chosen a park with no skateboard rink , you know how much we dislike those weirdos.”
yeji bursted out laughing at my comment.
“you mean! but you’re right.” chaewon chuckled at her remark and apaologized.
“my bad, i thought they retired or something, i never see them when i come here.”
“why the fuck are they coming our way?”
they walked our direction and stopped right in front of us.
“what are you little pink princesses doing here?” one of them said.
gosh how can anyone be attracted to this? huge clothes, worn out converse, shaggy hair , don’t they have any decent clothes ?
“oh shut up yeonjun, this is a public park, can we not be here?” chaewon said.
how the fuck does she know his name ?
“woah calm down, i just thought you girls will be in that cage y’all call ballet.” he said making the rest of the guys chuckle.
“can y’all just leave us alone? go on with your dirty ass skateboards and go away.” i said anger taking over me.
“nice insult , really it almost made cry barbie wannabe.” another one of them said. this one was worse, that hair, dear lord. someone give this kid some scissors, how can he even see?
“you seriously cannot be talking about my appearance when you look like that dumbass, you-“
“stop! girls let’s just go, it’s getting late anyways.” yeji said stopping me to keep going leaving him smirking. i swear to fucking god.
>>
it was the next afternoon and i was feeling drained. i was just leaving my daily ballet classes and all i wanted to do was to take a fat ass nap. but then my grumbling stomach had other plans.
i drove to the nearest restaurant that i could find. what’s the difference? it’s all burgers and fries anyways.
my annoyance got bigger as i saw the line to order food.
god just kill me right now.
it was like a 15 minute wait until i was finally the next in line.
as i saw the person leave the register i felt someone get in front of me. i only saw the back is his head but i already knew who it was.
“excuse you asshole? i was waiting before you!” i exclaimed at him . i was hungry as fuck of course i’m angry.
he turned around smirking.
“oh my bad didn’t see you there.” that’s all he said before telling the cashier his order.
at this point i was huffing like a little kid throwing a tantrum.
“who the fuck do you think you are? i’m really fucking hungry.” i said shoving his shoulder but he didn’t budge making me even angrier.
i threw a couple of more insults at him but he just ignored me and finished ordering.
he thinks he owns the place or something?
i finally got to order after an eternity of waiting, more than half of that time was me insulting that long-haired freak.
as i got out my debit card the cashier spoke up.
“don’t worry it’s all taken care of”
huh?
“i’m sorry what? im not friends with the owner or anything.”
“the dude before you told me to pay your meal on his card.”
that skater dude ?
confusion isn’t enough to describe how lost i was.
i walked to where he was sitting not sure on what i was going to say to him.
“why did you pay for my food ?” i straight up said genuinely curious on his intentions.
dude cut the line and was a total jerk to me but then pays for my food?
“felt like doing some charity work.”
i clenched my jaw at him wanting to keep on insulting him but he payed for my food so i have to act nice for now i guess.
“look whatever this shit that’s happening just make it stop, we’re not friends or anything , thank you for the food but i really didn’t need that, now go one and leave me alone jerk.”
“looks like someone can’t take a joke, calm down, you look very funny when you’re mad _______.”
how the fuck does he know my name ?
“how the fuck do you know my name?”
he stayed silent for a moment.
“i just do , now if you excuse me i have places to be in.”
that’s all he said before leaving the restaurant leaving me utterly flabbergasted.
>>
“yeji , this isn’t a classy party, this is a straight up fuckplace.”
i looked around as all i could see is people drunk out of their minds grinding on each other , punching each other, while me and my friends are here dressed like we were having dinner with the president.
“seriously i’m sorry, my friend told me it was going to be better than this, ugh a bunch of low lives are the only ones here, i’ll go get us a drink.”
i turned to chaewon who now seemed to be getting along with some other girl leaving me looking like a loser.
and erupt of laughter caught my attention as i looked where it was coming from.
you’ve got to be kidding me.
of course it was them.
those guys.
they were surrounded by girls , some one their laps and some on their side. they had beers all over the table.
but for some reason i couldn’t find the one that has been up my ass-
oh there he was.
he was walking to the table with a beer in his hand taking a seat. i saw a girl approach him which seem to startle him for a moment but then followed on her flirting.
wanting to get away i went upstairs to see if i could find a bathroom. by the way bad idea.
still confused on how girls like that kind of men.
a bunch of drunks all over the hall that i could barely go through them.
when i thought i was finally there someone grabbed my arm.
“what’s a pretty little thing like you all alone?” an unknown man who’s breath smelled like beer and cigarettes combined said.
i’m so close to gagging right now.
“leave me alone asshole.” i said trying to get away from his grip but it was useless, he was much stronger.
“playing hard-to-get aren’t we? how about we-“
“she said to leave her alone dude.” a voice said behind him making the man turn around .
“awww what is little emo beomgyu going to do?”
suddenly a punch was thrown making me flinch at the sudden move.
the drunk man was now on the floor moaning in pain.
who i suppose is beomgyu hissed at the pain in his knuckles as he literally knocked him out.
i was still in shock but he grabbed my hand and led me to god knows where.
“why the fuck are you here? this place isn’t safe for people like you.”
“excuse you? i can go wherever i want, you can’t tell me what to do.”
he rolled his eyes in response.
“you know what i mean , like seriously, the people around here are just bad.”
“then why are you here?”
he sighed before answering.
“this is just where i grew up in, it’s hard letting go of the places i know the most , that’s why i know what i’m telling you.”
we finally got outside of the supposed “bar.”
“well thanks for saving my ass, i’ll get going now, i’d rather not bother my friends right now. “
i said and started making my way to the side walk but got stopped once again.
“you’re crazy. i just told you how dangerous this area is and you want to go home alone, at 1am by yourself ? “
“well my phones out of battery so i can’t call no one to pick me up and i don’t like taking ubers.” i shrugged.
“you’re so oblivious god, i’ll take you home dummy.”
yeah right.
“pftt in what? you’re little skateboard? no thanks i’ll walk.”
he’s got to be fucking with me.
“very funny, but no i have a car, you know my life doesn’t just revolve around skateboarding.” he said dangling his car keys in my face and led me to where he was parked.
damn it , his car was nice.
i was hoping to make fun of it but i can’t.
it wasn’t even dirty, it looked almost new and not cheap at all.
“your car’s not bad.” i said trying to keep my cool. i’m not trying to make his ego burst or anything.
“thanks , i can tell how hard it was for you to say that.” he said smirking.
see this is why i keep compliments to myself.
“so where to? “
>>

The car rider was pretty much him asking me basic questions nothing too special, but still kind of awkward. i didn’t really know him like that.
“you’re served princess.”
“ugh stop calling me that , you’re making me regret even getting in your car.” he just laughed at my words.
“calm down, just go home and rest.” he said but then he looked like he wanted to ask me something .
“umm do you think i could maybe have your number? it’s nothing like that, just maybe to um kind of um keep in contact or i don’t know, never mind i’m-“
“it’s alright.”
i responded tired of listening to him ramble.
not going to lie, it’s fun seeing him in this state, shy and all, making me feel bigger.
he handed me his phone and i typed in my number then giving it back to him.
“alright then um have a good sleep.” he said awkwardly and drive away before i could even answer.
i found myself laughing at the way he suddenly acted. kind of cute.
>>
during this past month i found myself actually getting along with beomgyu.
since the day he dropped me off and gave him my number, we’ve been texting and meeting up places, obviously we still argue and bully each other but we both know we’re just joking around.
i never thought that i would become actual friends with a skater boy, just from how i talked about them last week is enough to tell how i feel about them.
now i’m sitting here with chaewon and yeji at a diner. not paying much attention to what they’re saying since beomgyu started to message me.
“she’s so fucking annoying i swear.” yeji said making both her and chaewon laugh.
they both quiet down when they saw me not paying attention at all.
“umm miss? you’ve been on your phone this whole time. what’s the point of going out with us acting like that?” chaewon stated making me look up at her for the first since i got here.
“what did you say? sorry it was just something in my phone.”
“clearly, you’re always on that damn phone nowadays, who are you texting nonstop?”
i cannot tell them i’m texting beomgyu, i will not hear the end of it.
“no one, just a childhood friend i was catching up with.” good lie.
chaewon looked at me suspiciously knowing automatically i wasn’t being fully honest.
“mmm i don’t buy that, let me see.” she tried to take my phone but i quickly moved my hand and put it behind me.
“woah that’s definitely not a “childhood friend” why are you being so secretive?”
“you’re definitely hiding something ______.” yeji added.
“it’s just- ugh , you girls are gonna eat me alive.”
“aw c’mon , it can’t be that bad, give me that phone.”
i gave up and let them both see my messages knowing i couldn’t just hide it from them forever.
both widened their eyes and looked directly at me.
“are you shitting me right now?”
“HIM?!
“weren’t y’all about to kill each other that other day?”
i shushed them at how loud they were being.
this cannot get any more embarrassing.
i snatched my phone from their hands starting to blush for no reason.
“i don’t know we just started to hang out, that’s it, nothing more.”
“you could do so much better though.” yeji said .
“no no no it’s not like that i swear.”
“he’s not your type though, those baggy clothes..” chaewon said scrunching up her face making yeji agree.
“you’re right you wouldn’t fall for a guy like that, we shouldn’t worry about it.” yeji said laughing.
yeah , why on earth would i ever like a guy like beomgyu?
>>
“are you serious right now? “ i stomped my feet angrily at my brother telling me that he can’t pick me up since he got football practice after i repeatedly told him to tell me in advance if he couldn’t, but no, the mister waits until last minute to tell me. now i have no ride home.
it was a gloomy friday afternoon after ballet practice, all my friends have already gone home and i feel bad if i call them right now asking them to come back and pick me up.
who else could pick me?
of course i know.
i clicked on his contact on my phone and waited anxiously for his answer.
the phone ringed for about four times, me know thinking he wasn’t going to answer.
“hello? “ a deep voice answered . who the fuck is this?
“beomgyu?”
“yes this is me, you woke me up from my nap you fucker.”
yup that was him.
“i need your help, could you maybe pick me up from the ballet studio? long story , i just need a ride. please?” this was in fact the first time i was being polite to him.
“seriously? ugh whatever, i’m just doing this because i’ve got nothing better to do.”
>>
“awww look at you in your cute leotard.” beomgyu said teasingly from the drivers seat as i got into his car.
“shut the fuck up, i was too lazy to change.”
“what do y’all even do in there? stand on your tippy toes all day?”
this man really got the nerve.
“ like you could even do that with your lame ass skateboard.”
“someone’s mad that th- oh you’ve got to be shitting me…”
he said making me look at his direction.
i was so caught up in the conversation i didn’t even notice the huge rainstorm that was happening which flooded the street that lead to my house. now what?
“yeah no way my car’s going through that.” he said referring to the huge body of water a couple of feet away. you could even see cars stuck in it.
“just leave me here and i’ll walk, it’s not that far anyways.”
“are you dumb? you’re not doing that, i’ll just take you to my place, at least until the rain is over.”
i didn’t really have any better choice than that. so i guess to his house i go.
>>
i’ve always liked beomgyu’s house. it felt very cozy and warm. i never told it to his face though, just so his ego can get even bigger? no thanks.
“here’s the bathroom, since you wanted to take a bath.”
i told him in the car ride that i felt tired and a nice warm bath makes me feel better.
i turned on the water and filled it up to submerge myself into the hot water.
i tried my best to relax , but to ugly sensation keeps coming back to me.
even though i wouldn’t be attracted to a guy like beomgyu, he very much does.
i don’t know what it is, he’s not my type at all.
the way he moves his hair out of his face, the way he does tricks with that stupid skateboard, the way covers his scars with stickers instead of bandaids. i hate it , i hate the way he makes me feel. i shouldn’t feel like this. what would my friends say? what would his friends say?
ugh this is too much, i need to get out.
it wasn’t a long bath, but i think was long enough to make my legs feel better.
shit, i’ve got no clothes to change into.
god must fucking love me right?
i awkwardly called out beomgyu’s name hoping i don’t have to scream at the top of my lungs for him to hear me.
thankfully he did.
“can you give me some spare clothes? i kinda have nothing to wear.” i said trying to avoid eye contact as i was only in a towel.
he chuckled and brought me some shorts and a t-shirt. not bad.
“you look cute i guess.” he said going back to his bed as i walked out of his closet.
cute? what’s up with him? shouldn’t he tell me i look disgusting ? weird ?
“so um, where am i sleeping?” i asked awkwardly, gosh what’s happening to me ?
“in my bed? do you normally sleep on the floor or something ?”
“oh with you? i just thought you know…”
“oh trust me ______, nothing like that is going to happen tonight.” he reassured.
>>
it was currently 2am and the thunderstorm somehow got worse making the rain sound echo through out the house.
beomgyu and i were still awake though. we watched a movie or two and ate some fried chicken, the awkward tension that was once here slowly disappeared throughout the night.
both of us are now talking about nonsense when suddenly beomgyu gets a god awful idea.
“let’s play truth or dare “
“what are we? in middle school?”
“aww come on! got any better ideas?”
“i guess not.”
“truth or dare? “ he asked me.
“ truth.”
“dammit, pussy. anyways , um do you have a crush on someone?”
that’s a weird question…
“um i guess so, it’s probably one sided though.”
“one sided? who is it ? im curious now.”
“nuh uh, only one question, so now you truth or dare?”
he thought for a second then spoke.
“i’ll do truth.”
“and you were up my ass for choosing truth , look at you. alright then what’s your ideal type?”
he furrowed his eyebrows and took a while to respond, making me think if this was an uncomfortable question for him.
“someone that i won’t get bored with.”
huh?
“that’s all? no ‘loyalty’ ‘kindness’ or something?”
“nah, that’s all too corny knowing damn well i just want someone i can laugh with.”
okay…
we kept asking questions back and forth, each becoming more and more personal.
until then…
“truth or dare?” beomgyu asked me.
“dare.”
“i dare you to kiss me.”
my brain shut down for a second. WHAT?
“wait what?” i tried to act cool , but on the inside i was having a meltdown.
“you heard me, let’s just try it out, nothing too crazy.”
i took a good ten seconds to think over this.
i mean he’s right, it’s all fun and jokes, it’s not like we’re going to full on make out right?
i slowly leaned into his rosy lips and connected them with mine.
i didn’t expect it to feel THIS good.
he was a good kisser, he completely took over as he kept the kiss going longer than it should have.
i pulled away hesitantly even though i wanted this to keep going.
“sorry _____ , i shouldn’t have asked you to kiss me , i knew you would be weirded out by it but i just couldn’t help myself i wa- “ i cut him off by kissing him again, this time i took control , guessing be was still registering that i kissed him.
he eventually responded to the kiss putting his hands on my waist, pulling me closer to him. he slowly lowered me into the bed, being on top of me.
the kiss got more intense as he went down lower, sucking on my neck down my collarbone making me moan at the feeling.
he kept kissing lower as he reached my breast. he cupped one of them into his hand squeezing it while he left hickeys all over them.
damn he got some experience i can tell.
it didn’t take long for both of us to be completely nude , we were desperate.
beomgyu went down and slowly spread my legs.
he looked up at me and smirked before going down on me.
he started licking my slit while rubbing my clit making me bite my lip.
i entangled my hands in his already messy hair not wanting him to stop anytime soon.
“ fuck yes , just like that beomgyu.”
he moaned in response as he started sucking my clit. he then inserted two fingers in me with no warning making me yelp.
he started to move his fingers in and out in a slow moving, slowly making it faster.
god he was too good at this.
my legs closed at the sudden sensation of an orgasm and when i thought i was going to cum he took his fingers out.
“what the fuck beomgyu?!”
he chuckled and said..
“clam down princess, i can’t let you cum this easily, seems like someone’s desperate.”
i groaned in frustration and rolled my eyes.
of course he can’t stop fucking teasing me.
he then went through his night table and pulled out a condom and put it on.
he lined himself up in my entrance before looking straight at me.
“you sure you want to do this?”
made my heart warm up.
“yes , i’m sure beomgyu.” i said grabbing his head and kissing him as he went in me.
i haven’t had sex in a long time, so it was more painful than usual.
thankfully beomgyu started slow making it easier to adjust to his size.
“feeling better princess?” i nodded which gave him the green light to go harder.
the pain was long gone , now replaced with pure pleasure.
“ugh fuck yes beomgyu harder.” i moaned
beomgyu grabbed my hands and intertwined them with his as he kept kissing me.
he pulled away and grabbed on of my legs and spread it allowing him to go deeper.
no man has ever made me feel like i am right now.
i feel like a virgin that’s never experienced any sort of sexual interaction before.
i was in a state of euphoria.
i leaned forward switching positions , me now being on top.
i started bouncing on him, slapping noises echoed through the room as i went faster and faster.
i leaned my head back as i felt my climax approaching.
“shit, fuck yes baby, you look so pretty like this.” he said through moans as he rubbed my clit.
he grabbed my waist and started thrusting at an ungodly speed.
“fuck yes, gyu.”
he slapped my ass before turning us back again with him on top.
now he put both my legs on his shoulder as we both came closer to our orgasm.
my back arched as i came leaving me gasping for air.
beomgyu pulled out and took his condom off cumming on my stomach leaving him like me, out of breath.
he laid next to me for a minute in silence. leaving us to process what just happen.
“you know, i’ve always had a crush on you.” he said making me frown and look at him .
“i’m sorry what?”
“yeah, since we were in high school, all my friends knew and tried to make me go up to you but i was too much of a pussy to go talk to you, since you know, you were popular and i knew i had no chance with you.”
no way…
“beomgyu , you’ve liked me since then?”
“yes believe me, i figured the only way to talk to you would be bothering you, so that’s what i did , and you see it worked.” he said smirking .
i smacked my lips slapping his shoulder lightly.
“i guess you could now start teaching me those skateboard lessons you talked about. “
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Yeah, okay, Dogblr. Matilda is making it extremely clear that she wants to play disc more than any other thing we do together: she wants to play disc so badly that she will attempt to conscript any human who holds still long enough to release her outside where the frisbees are, and then also come out and throw them.
She has already taught herself to leap 2-5 feet in the air, sometimes while twisting and flipping, to catch a Frisbee sailing through the air. She will bring me discs or drop them as asked. I am a mediocre thrower but I get a lot of practice these days. We are using cheap shitty PetSmart frisbees mostly with a couple of Chuckit Paraflights for her training go bag. I'm open to purchasing better discs but they have to be sturdy: my dogs aren't allowed to chew Frisbees, but Benton tends to get hyperfixated by digging at frisbees in the dirt and it's not always possible to immediately get them back. I am also poor, so budget stuff is great.
I listen to my dog--I already had plans to enroll her in a disc class next summer--but while I know the kinds of things that help set up a puppy for agility well and that a puppy absolutely should not do, I do not know those things for disc. Matilda is 10mo: still definitely growing. I don't think I can stop her choosing to jump for things, even flippy jumps; she's frankly too fast and too determined. She does not give a shit about wipe-outs or falling. She wants a chance to catch a flying disc above basically every other reward in her universe.
What should I know about disc to keep my puppy from injuring herself and to help us elaborate the game she loves together?
I will be starting with MN Disc Dogs as a reading guide but does anyone know of good disc dog resources? Their getting started page is for people struggling with a different problem than I have: teaching the dogs that the Frisbee can be fun to catch in the air. Matilda knows that the Frisbee is fun and has been known to steal totally dead Frisbees off tables and present them to someone to throw. Are there any good disc dog resources predicated on wandering into the sport because your dog is extremely motivated and you are a hapless naif?
She's ready. Throw the Frisbee.
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Thank you for tagging me @c2-eh ! ❤️ Let's see if we can get @vegasgrandprix @penaltyboxboxbox @nottiinrosso and @ayceeofspades to do this 😁 (even if you only share 1 idea, I will Eat It Up...)
tell me about 1-5 ideas that you’ve not written a single word for yet. notes don’t count. (I have so many...this will be hard. All are charlos bc I have a problem.)
Last of Us AU - You know that episode with Bill and Frank? Yeah, that's where this idea came from. Carlos makes a fortress out of his Mallorca home after the apocalypse goes down, and finds Charles in one of his traps one day. Carlos hasn't interacted with a non-infected human in years, but he lets Charles into his home to shower and eat...and other things.
Stepford Wives/Inception AU - I had this idea of like charlos in the suburbs - married, white-picket fence etc. But actually, it's all a dream (they've been incepted) and they slowly figure out that it's not reality, and remember that they're F1 drivers who are not in fact married. The dream collapses and they return to their real lives, only to kinda miss being a married couple lol
Sex Competition AU - asfghfhsjgdk so this idea came to me like...what if charlos think they're both better than the other in bed, and the only way to prove it is to watch each other with the same girl and have her (after signing an NDA ofc) tell them who's better at sex. But then she says their better than each other in different areas. And this bothers them immensely. So they decide the only way to settle it is to experience for themselves what the other is so good at smhhh these IDIOTS
Princess Diaries 2 AU - Charles is Mia and Carlos is Chris Pine... Mostly bc I want that garden party scene where Nicholas kisses Mia mid-argument and then she somehow makes them both fall into the fountain. Also, charlos getting caught sneaking out of closets in the palace, and Charles is fuming like 'No, I hate him!! It's not what you think!' Also, Carlos Sr being mustache-twirly villain who's trying to get his son to steal the throne from Charles, and his son is like 'I know! I'll seduce him!' (Carlos Sr: 😕 'You'll...what now?') We talked about this extensively in the discord and it was sooo fun. I'm determined to write it one day if someone else doesn't do it first.
Stripper AU - I had two ideas for this: #1, they're both strippers at the same club, and Carlos does the more "manly" stripping (firefighter, boxer, construction worker etc.) while Charles does the more "twink" stuff (heels + lingerie, you get me). #2, based on this real story I read about, charles is a stripper who gets his own gigs on days off. Someone (Carlos) hires him to come once a week and clean his apartment in only his underwear, and that's it. At least, for a while...😅
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