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kamiversee · 1 month

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➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎��

✧.* CHAPTER 49 || The Things You Didn’t Know

[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?

[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language & semi-heavy angst.

[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 5.1k

[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.

[ [ chapters mlist } ]

——YOUR HEART WAS racing against your chest as you hurried out of the cafe. Despite the stares you got from people given the recent outbursts, the only thing you focused on was catching up with Choso.

He couldn’t have gotten that far, right? God, you were so nervous. What if he didn’t want to hear you out? What if that’s all it took for him to hate you? What if he never talks to you again?

Did you fuck up? Should you have lied? Was this for the best? Shit, tears were blurring your vision as you ran outside and frantically searched the parking lot for any signs of Choso. If he was gone already would he ever answer a call or text from you again?

Fuck. You can’t do this. Anxiety, fear, and a profound rush of pure angst simply crashed over you.

“F-Fuck,” You breathed out heavily. You tried to stop your crying but the tears kept coming and you really couldn’t spot Choso anywhere, even his car nowhere to be found.

It was cloudy and there was this brisk breeze running over you, a distant ripple in the sky heard as the weather decided to match the vibe of everything that’s just occurred.

You swallowed down the lump in your throat and kept walking into the parking lot nonetheless, refusing to give up just yet. What were you even going to say if you found him? What is there to say-

“Why’d you… Why’d you follow me out here?” Choso’s voice hushed out from your left.

Your feet stumble into a halt and the way your head turned in that direction was instant, quickly laying your eyes on the man who was standing in front of his car door that was parked not too far away from where you stood. You must’ve missed it when you first looked that way due to your tears and distraught way of searching.

Your lips are quivering and your heart is simply beating against your chest, “C-Choso, I-“

The sight of Choso’s hand trembling catches your eyes, the key in his hand just barely held up against the door handle of his car. His other hand was balled into a fist and you couldn’t see his face because his hair had fallen into a mess after the way he rushed out of the cafe.

He’s breathing heavily, panting even, as a sudden dribble of water falls from his face. Was he… Was Choso crying?

“Choso?” You voice out softly. Your tone was shaky and almost sappy as you took careful steps toward him.

“Don’t,” He croaks out. You couldn’t tell if he was crying just yet but his voice was definitely trembling with emotion.

You pause in your steps, merely a few inches away from him. Swallowing you try your best to come up with something to say, “I-I’m sorry-“

Choso sucks in a deep breath of air and suddenly his keys slip out his hand, “Fuck-,” He sighs, bringing an arm up to his face and sniffling.

Despite him telling you not to come closer, you do so anyway, inching toward him before crouching down and picking his keys up. After which, you stand up straight and slide the keys into the pocket of his pants before forcing him to turn his body to you.

Then, you place a gentle hand on his arm and pull it away from his face, coming face to face with his flushed expression, saddened, hurt, and tired eyes, frowning lips, and ragged breathing as tears slip down his cheeks.

The water in your eyes just doubles as you get the full and raw view of Choso Kamo crying. Frowning and quick to take the blame, you squeak out a cracked, “M’sorry. S-Shit, Choso, I-“

He starts shaking his head but he doesn’t look away from you. Instead, Choso gazes down into your eyes and for the first time, his eyes are so very dull and just tired. It was as though everything he just learned had completely drained the usually vibrant brown shade that coated his irises.

He sighs shakily and steps closer to you, the tips of your feet touching one another as he just gazes down at you. Choso was confused, tired, hurt, and drained all at once.

You sniffle, “I’m s-sorry, Choso I-I didn’t-“

“Shut up…” He says. However, his voice is void of anything outside of hurt with hardly any strength or anger remaining. Choso then leans down to you and you try to back away a bit but his arms drape around your waist and he pulls you up against him, tipping his head to the side and nearing your face, “B-Baby,” He rasps out, tears still falling from his eyes.

You don’t even know what to feel right now, “Cho, p-please, I’m sorry. I didn’t know-“

“Stop apologizing,” Choso whispers, “S’not ‘ur fault…” He mumbles.

“B-But…” You stare into his eyes, “I…” You could hardly formulate your words properly, “W-Why’re you crying?”

“C-Cause’ you just…” His expression sinks and never before has Choso allowed himself to be this vulnerable in front of anyone, “T-There was the g-guy from before, then Geto, n-now… Now Sukuna a-and you don’t even know-,” He chokes on his words and squeezes his eyes shut, “Fuck, I c-can’t even… I can’t… I…”

He begins to lose his breath and falls into a state of hyperventilating. Choso’s eyes widen a bit and his breathing is panicked all over the place.

Your hands shoot up to his face and you tilt your head, “Choso, hey, Cho,” You call out softly. His eyes are frantic for a moment. “Heyyy look at me, look at my eyes, Cho.”

He does just barely.

You nod and grin, “T-That’s it, now take a deep breath for me,” You whisper.

He tries, inhaling sharply and then exhaling shakily.

“A bit slower than that, c’mon, you’re okay.” You tell him, wiping the tears from his warm face and keeping your voice calm and collected despite your own emotions being jumbled, “I’m right here, okay?”

He’s nodding, steadily controlling his breathing and blinking as he calms himself down. Swallowing, “I-I don’t what that w-was…” Choso huffs out, unsure of the surge of anxiety that ran through him.

“You had a minor panic attack,” You whisper, pulling his face to yours, “But it’s okay, I’m right here, alright?”

Choso moves his hands over yours and squeezes, “Baby…”

“Hm?” You hum, your mind discarding the fact that you just argued with this same man a moment ago.

It was like what happened with Gojo all over again. Yet, this felt different for some reason.

Choso’s voice is low and timid with you, “I’m s-sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” You hush out, “You didn’t do anything wrong, I-”

Your name is hushed out in an almost fractured tone and Choso removes his hands from yours, moving to hold your waist and pull you closer to him.

You drop whatever it is you were going to say at the sound of your name, “Yes?”

“C-Can you…” Choso hesitates, hating how he feels right now and disliking the fact that you have to see him in such a way, “Uhm…”

“Can I what?” You murmur, “What is it, Choso? Talk to me please.”

He leans down and his arms wrap around your waist, “C-Can you just hold me?”

Wasn’t he just upset with you moments ago? Was he not repulsed and maybe even disgusted by you for a second? Did you not fuck things up? Is he not angry with you-

“P-Please,” Choso begs, trying to hold back the rest of his emotions. Never has he felt so conflicted in his feelings before.

You end up nodding and raising your hands up, wrapping them around his neck and holding him tightly. Choso exhales heavily and he hugs your smaller frame tightly, burying his face into the crook of your neck and shutting his eyes.

You don’t know why he wants to hug you right now. You have no clue why he’s not screaming at you anymore when that’s the very thing you expected him to do.

Hell, the man just told you to leave him out of your drama, and yet here he is in your arms not even ten minutes later. You guess this was some kinda sign. Does this show the levels of how much Choso loves you or does this have something to do with his possessiveness?

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

What you didn’t know was that Choso needed to feel your warmth to center himself once again. You were unaware of the fact that he’d been so insanely tense for the past few hours. It was a build-up that led to his recent outburst.

All of which started about an hour and a half ago when Yuki first approached him. Choso was trying to draw as he stared out the large cafe window, his thoughts ironically on you since you inspire him to no end, before that annoying blonde approached him with that stupid smile on her face.

His mood soured from the second he made eye contact with her and it only worsened when she sat down across from him and started talking, blabbering about god knows what. Choso allowed most of what she said to go through one ear and out the other, only giving her these half-assed responses every now and then.

Then, to make things worse, Yuki started getting comfortable and despite Choso’s dismissive attitude, she sat there talking his ear off for what felt like forever, even going as far as getting herself food and really comforting herself. Sometime after that, you had called him and Choso’s mood lifted only a bit.

He was confused at first since you’re supposed to be taking a break from him but then as he realized he was with Yuki, he started to panic because he knew how this was going to seem to you. Even so, he answered because who is he to ignore a call from you?

And of course, there was your jealousy that came along as Yuki started pestering him during his phone call. Yuki’s intrusion irked Choso to no end but the sound of your voice in his ear, especially with you growing jealous, was able to help Choso calm himself. After all, he knew there was nothing you needed to be jealous over.

Then you told him that you were thinking about changing the status of your relationship with him and Choso was smiling from ear to ear. Just the thought of you coming to him and telling him you were finally ready for a relationship with him made his heart swell. It had meant that he’d won over whoever his competition was.

But of course, Yuki ruined that moment seconds later when she started talking again, to which Choso had taken a nearby water bottle and tossed some of it on her. You obviously didn’t know or see any of that since you were on the phone but Choso had been fed up with the blonde woman.

But, all of that only led to you sounding upset over the phone since he kept bickering with Yuki. This annoyed Choso even more because he was excited to see you and yet Yuki had ruined something that could've been rather sweet.

What you also don’t know is that once you are off the phone, Choso moderately curses Yuki out, telling her how she’s annoying and he wants her to leave. Of course, she didn’t go anywhere, and after more bickering Choso and her made a deal that Yuki would only be able to meet you and then leave.

As things played out, that’s not what happened but Choso wasn’t expecting that.

To make it all worse, Choso had gone to the bathroom after some time and when he came out he saw the cashier’s eyes not on your face in the slightest as your head had been angled up at the menu. You didn’t know it but Choso wasn’t lying when he said Ino was looking like he wanted to fuck you because it was so obvious.

He saw the way Ino ogled you, licked his lips, and then smiled before looking up to the menu as if he wasn’t just checking you out. This bothered Choso for many reasons.

For one, Choso knew he wasn’t your boyfriend so he couldn’t just come up to you and the cashier and call the guy out for his looks because that’d be him crossing boundaries. So instead, he did the only thing he could think of and approached you from behind, soon making direct eye contact with Ino and giving him the same death glare he gives anyone who checks you out.

You’ve scolded Choso about this look in the past but he couldn’t help himself. So that’s why he continued to stare Ino down before pressing himself up against you and placing his hands beside yours. In his mind, you may not have been his girlfriend but god dammit, he wasn’t going to allow anyone to look at you like that when he’s in the vicinity.

Hence the kisses to your neck, the claiming touches to your waist, and the threatening look in his eyes as he mentally dared Ino to look at you like that again.

But then, when you got bothered by Choso’s actions, it confused him. Could you not tell Ino was into you? Are you actually that unaware of how people, especially men, give such suggestive looks to you?

Choso didn’t understand it at all and knowing he was in no position to say something about it only ate him up inside.

But his mood was lifted for a moment as he then conversed with you. You didn’t know it but you really were the vibrance in this dull man’s life. His heart longed for you at every passing moment so when he noticed you disliked the idea of him being with someone else, even if it were just a friend, he couldn’t help but fall even harder.

It was like you wanted him all to yourself and he would give that to you at any given moment if you asked for it.

In Choso’s mind, he is yours. Whatever you need, he’ll go to any length to provide it for you. Whatever you want, he’ll see how he can get it for you. Choso is so devoted to you that sometimes he doesn’t even feel like his thoughts are his own.

At times, Choso feels as though every inch of his body simply operates under a blind gaze that's clouded with thoughts of you. While he wants nothing more than to be with you, he’s also okay with waiting. He’d do so devotedly until you flat out tell him not to and even then, deep down inside there’s a piece of his heart that’ll always run in your direction.

That being said, to have to reveal you to his ex Yuki who’s attracted to women, it was like he was putting you on the line. As if he were risking his relationship with you by simply revealing the way you look to Yuki.

Choso hated it but he was so damn insecure about losing you, which is exactly why he held onto you so tightly both when he showed you to Yuki and even now as he quietly weeps into you.

The grip he has on your shirt is relentless. He’s so damn terrified and upset right now.

Because after he revealed you to Yuki it all just got worse. Then she wanted to talk to you, she probably told you how she left him, and then fucking Geto Suguru showed up.

By then, just the simple sound of Heyy gorgeous almost made Choso snap. His eye had twitched and he felt like he was on the verge of losing his sanity. It was like what happened with Ino all over again but ten times worse because it was soon revealed that Geto is the man you told Choso you used to sleep with.

Which was one thing in itself but to see how Geto still looks at you just made Choso sick. It was like Geto was undressing you and fucking you with his eyes right in front of him and this dark emotion just swirled around in Choso’s heart.

Many times did Choso stare at the jawline of Geto Suguru, wondering to himself how fast he could reach over and connect his fist to the area without hurting you in any way since you were right next to him.

And to just add onto all of that because the list of emotions Choso just went through is long, the sound of Geto calling you a slut, albeit a way of him teasing you, made Choso lose his shit for a second.

No one at that table knew but Choso was contemplating some dark things the entire time. The flirting, the taunting, the fucking looks, it all made Choso so damn angry. It took every fiber of his being not to reach across the table and wipe that stupid smirk off Geto’s face.

Yet, that wasn’t his boiling point. He let a few things slip when he bickered with you but the second his brother was brought up, Choso just lost it.

He gave up on holding his tongue as he had been the entire conversation. As soon as you looked at him with those pretty eyes of yours, asking him what and who they were talking about, the mere thought of you and Sukuna ever crossing paths just made Choso nauseous.

He quickly got snappy and short-tempered after that, annoyed by how much you kept pushing the subject despite him wanting to move on. Then you had the nerve to tell him that you should know who his older brother is.

He couldn't believe you. Especially after you wouldn’t even tell him about the clear list of other guys you’ve been with? That’s all precisely why he says he felt as though he should know who else you’d been with.

But… to hear you respond to that by saying there’s a chance Sukuna could be one of those people…

Something deep within Choso just broke. He felt said emotion snap in half, the sensation raging through his body. It was his trust. He couldn’t think rationally anymore and both fear and pure anger ran throughout his body.

Everything had gone to shit and his brain was just being overloaded with information.

If it wasn’t enough that every single day Choso had to fear the possible call of you telling him you’d chosen the other guy over him, then he now had to add on the fact that you apparently sleep around. From Choso’s unknown competition to Geto, who he somewhat assumes is said competition, and then to hear about Sukuna?

He couldn’t think straight anymore. Horrid memories of the times he lived with his older sibling just flashed in his mind back to back, each one darker than the last.

Dating back to when Choso was younger and before Yuji was born… He remembered it all like some distorted nightmare. From being hit by Sukuna over the most minor mistake to being straight bullied by the man in the worst ways possible, Choso went through hell growing up with Sukuna.

For the sake of his other two brothers, he’d often take the blame and whatever unjust punishment followed just to protect his siblings. Which is even the story behind the tattoo going across the bridge of Choso’s nose.

You’ve asked him about it before but he never told you how there’s a scar beneath the tattoo that never went away and that’s why he has it in the first place. Of course, said scar was given to him by the asshole Sukuna himself.

And if all that wasn’t enough, what really topped it off was that after Yuji was born, Choso pleaded and begged that Sukuna not put the poor kid through what he endured.

For nothing more than his own amusement, Sukuna went ahead and promised he wouldn’t ever lay a hand on Yuji. Of course, this was only to build up hope in Choso’s heart because the promise was a lie and the things Sukuna had done to Yuji behind closed doors outweighed whatever hell he put Choso through.

This is the exact reason Choso has grown to hate both liars and Sukuna himself. Each time he goes and sees his little brother Yuji, there’s a new bruise on the poor boy’s skin and Choso is only able to do so much.

Genuinely, the only things that keep that man going are the bright smiles that Yuji gives him despite the abuse, knowing that unlike himself, Yuji stands up for himself even at his young age, and lastly, well, you. You make Choso forget about all the dark parts of his family life and essentially free him from it all.

So with all that being said, when you told Choso you had sex with Sukuna it simply broke him into pieces. Why was it that the one woman in which he decides to long for more than ever just so happens to have crossed paths with such a vile man?

He didn’t care that Sukuna was his older brother, he didn’t care that you even fucked him, what made him so angry was the person Sukuna truly is, how blind you were to it, and the possibility that Sukuna could’ve hurt you.

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ .　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

As all of that replayed in Choso’s mind, his tight grasp on the fabric of your shirt came and went as he cried so quietly against your warm body.

The two of you were standing there hugging in silence for roughly twenty minutes. You simply rubbed the back of Choso’s head with one hand and the other caressed his back, allowing him to cry into you for as long as he needed to.

Well, that was up until you felt something wet make contact with the top of your head. It was faint at first so you didn't pay any mind to it. Then, another slip of water is felt, and another, and soon, you notice it’s drizzling.

Light rain makes contact with both you and Choso’s embraced bodies. You didn’t really want to move but the drizzle was steadily getting heavier and you soon shivered against Choso, to which he sniffled and came to with what was going on around him.

“Choso,” You whispered, feeling how he flinched at the sound of his name, “I-It’s raining…”

He doesn’t say anything for a minute, not moving a muscle and just stuck against you.

Then, when the rain picks up just a bit more, he shifts around and finally pries his arms off of you. He lifts his head from your shoulder and god the sight of him makes your heart crease inward.

Damn these men and being the most beautiful criers you’ve ever seen.

Due to the rain, Choso’s hair was getting wet and starting to stick to his forehead, the ends of the strands having this slight wave to them as they decorated his hairline. His eyes that were darkened with those heavy sleepless bags had tears streaming down from the corners and the male bats his soaked eyelashes as the rain falls onto both of you.

Before you could say or do anything else, Choso moved to take off his jacket and hold it over your head, shielding you from the water falling from the sky. Doing so, he remains close to you and takes another long moment taking in your expression.

You do the same, admiring how someone could be so attractive as they wept. Choso was such a beautiful man, someone whose face you think deserved to be drawn and painted the same way he once did yours.

In that moment, you wish you could read his mind and figure out just what he was thinking as he stood under the rain gazing down at you so intimately. Though he was upset and conflicted, Choso couldn’t even hide the love in his eyes.

Your name is uttered again after a long moment and Choso’s voice is deep but so very emotional.

You swallow and just barely tilt your head, “Yes?”

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Choso whispers, “B-But, I don’t think we should uh…”

You moved your hands to his shirt and your delicate fingers clung onto the man as a slight gust of wind blew over the two of you. Was this it? Was he about to say what you think he was?

It’s over, isn’t it? Choso’s about to say he doesn’t think you two should be together anymore right? You’ve fucked up.

There’s nothing you can do. He’s done with you. He’s about to tell you that he never wants to see you again and you don’t know what you could possibly say to change his mind.

Right? Of course, what else would he be about to say?

It’s over. You and Choso are over. Just like that-

He says your name again and you blink, tears dripping down your face unexpectedly as your own thoughts and anxiety overcome you. “I don’t think we s-should stay in the rain like this,” Choso murmurs, sighing, “You’ll get sick.”

You exhale shakily and squeeze your eyes shut, nodding your head in agreement and so beyond thankful he didn’t say what you thought he was about to.

He then carefully places his jacket on top of your head and puts an arm around you, moving to walk you over to the passenger side of his car. When you get there, you slip a hand into his pants pocket and pull out his keys, your fingers slipping over the item to unlock his car.

Doing so, you wonder why Choso didn’t do that earlier. Did he wait on purpose to give you a chance to catch up to him?

Once the car is unlocked Choso helps you get in and tries to make sure no more water makes contact with you, despite himself getting soaked in the process. He even moves to put your seatbelt on for you, regardless of his shaky hand and his backside getting wet from the rain.

You frown, “C-Choso you don’t have to-“

He pauses and looks at you, his tone completely soft and weak as he whispers, “Shut up.”

Your lips pull together and you swallow your words yet again. His face was so close to yours, the mixed smell of rain and his cologne filling your nose. Choso’s eyes narrow as they stare into your own and you can’t even read his expression so you genuinely have no idea what’s going on in his mind right now.

Maintaining eye contact with you, the sound of your seat belt clicking is heard before Choso moves. His hand goes to your face and despite the shakiness of his fingers, he gently places them on your jaw.

Choso moves your head around a bit like he’s inspecting you before he stops and his thumb shifts upward. It swipes over your lips slowly and he stares for a while. Knowing that Sukuna has probably felt these same lips of yours bothers him to no end.

And to make it worse, Choso blames himself because maybe if he opened up to you sooner he could’ve prevented it somehow? Even though he doesn’t know when you slept with Sukuna.

Choso’s thumb taps your bottom lip three times before he opens his mouth. You wish he’d get out of the rain already but he seems so immersed in whatever he’s doing. Whispering your name again, “Has he ever hurt you?” Choso asks carefully.

You shake your head no instead of making your answer vocal in courtesy of recently being told to shut up. Were you that worried that if you didn’t listen to Choso he’d slip away from you? So much so that you couldn’t even speak unless told to?

“Say it,” Choso hums, “Needa’ hear you say it, baby.”

“N-No,” You reply.

“No, what? Please answer my question fully,” He instructs, his voice calmer and a bit dry due to his recent emotional outburst. You open your mouth to do so but he cuts you off, “I just need to be sure, okay?”

Nodding, “No, Sukuna has never hurt me.” You answer completely.

Choso releases a relieved exhale and shuts his eyes, “Okay… T-Thank fuck,” He whispers finally before taking his hand off your face.

He starts to pull away but you grab his hand for some reason. Choso freezes, not at all caring about the rain soaking him and his clothes as your hand grabs his own.

You’re looking up at him unsure of what should be said outside of a simple and heartfelt, “I’m sorry.”

Choso’s brows tense as if he didn’t want to hear you say that but he pulls your hand to his face and leans down again. He kisses the back of your hand, his lips pressing against your skin so long that it seems like he doesn't want to move away from the motion.

“Thank you for that, princess,” Choso says to you, his eyes meeting yours yet again, “But, you don’t need to apologize. We uh…” He swallows, “We’re gonna’ talk this all out, yeah?”

You’re nodding before even mentally rendering his words, “Y-Yeah.”

A small smile, one that barely even shows and seems to lack emotion, spreads across Choso’s face, “A-And uh… No matter what you tell me,” He gulps, wondering if he’ll later regret these words, “I’ll still love you.”

Your heart just swells so much to the point that it begins to hurt your chest. Does he know what he’s about to get into? Does he understand the gravity of what he just said to you?

“As long as it’s the truth,” He adds just in case.

You nod again, “Right.”

“Promise?” Choso asks.

“Mhm, I promise,” You hush out.

He sighs, releases your hand, and finally stands up straight, moving to shut the car door and make his way to the driver's side. Once he does and situates himself in his vehicle, his body is pretty soaked and he’s quick to turn his car on along with the heat.

The two of you were about to be in here for a while.

So many truths were getting ready to reveal themselves.

Does that include details of the list?

…

You had no idea.

GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢

KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮

ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???

NANAMI KENTO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙

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pedgito · 2 years

Text

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.

#eddie munson smut #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fic #my writing #1kfic #5kfic

9K notes · View notes

43qh · 23 days

Text

talk for a minute? (m)

quinn hughes x fem!reader

genre: angst, smut, fluff

warnings: unprotected sex, creampie, yearning, self-doubt, rejection

word count: 4.6k

summary: your own vows to not associate with anyone your last year in college all comes crashing down the second quinn hughes enters your life.

you made vows.

vows to yourself, at least. you’ll focus on studies, graduate with honors this coming year, no distractions. you made fucking vows. so when a man named quinn hughes has sudden interest in your loneliness, you scowl. your snarls and distaste in his presence hasn’t made him go away. not yet, at least.

quinn randomly popped into your life when he sat across you in your campus library. his eyes gleamed a pretty color you didn’t want to discover too deeply. you raised an eyebrow at the time, not sure why a man was sitting across from you, no books in hand. you didn’t know quinn back then. quite frankly, you didn’t know many people. you were a loner, if you will. you hated the term, though. you just chose your studies over friendships.

people could call you a prune all they want, it never deterred you. at least you’d graduate with your head held high.

so, when quinn approached you that day with a glimmering “hi”, you scowled. and he would try every day for the past three weeks trying to get something different, but it never worked. but he never stopped approaching you. never stopped pursuing you.

when quinn doesn’t show up at his usual time, you’re a little muddled in your seat. quinn made it a point to be punctual in your ‘meet ups’. so, when he comes an hour late, you scrunch your eyebrows at him.

he clears his throat a bit, trying to remain quiet in the library, “hi.”

you almost scowl in his face, but your demeanor was falling apart in front of his eyes. you sit still, “you’re late.”

quinn’s eyebrows raise, but he can’t stop the smile errupting on his face, “you noticed?”

you scoff, looking back at your books. he wanted you to notice. he wanted you to react. he craved it.

quinn rests his chin on his hand, elbow on the table, “if you’re wondering where i was-”

“i wasn’t.” you snark.

“-i had to call my mother. we do this monthly thing where she checks in on me.”

quinn being a mommy’s boy made you want to smile. you didn’t know much about quinn. you knew he played hockey, had two brothers, had lots of friends, and you knew girls flocked at him. quinn wasn’t bad looking. maybe he knew he was a looker, who knows. but knowing he was also a mama’s boy, added to your short list of what you knew about quinn. it was almost charming.

if only you didn’t have a reputation to uphold.

you don’t even nod in acknowledgment to his words about the call with his mother. you don’t look up, you don’t stop typing on your laptop. and quinn just sits like usual, in silence. you’re not sure what game he’s playing at, but you’re not sure you’re going to like it, whatever it is.

you didn’t even know the man’s name before he approached you, and now you know more than you’d like to. it made you scoff in your head.

only in his wet dreams will he get a chance to talk to you.

you hate this.

you hate that quinn’s silence was starting to become a comfortable daily routine. you hated that you were starting to anticipate his entrance. you hated the coil in your stomach when he approached you after giving a familiar handshake to one of his friends.

you hate him.

he’s a nuisance. always in the way when you’re trying to concentrate. in all reality, you could probably find another place and spot to study. but you knowingly chose not to. and that’s really what kills you. you were tormenting yourself on purpose.

you were hating him on purpose.

“hi,” his familiar voice rings in your ears as you take notes.

you want to say ‘hi’ back. you want to greet him properly, let him into your world. you want to become apart of his world, maybe. your mind wins over your heart, though.

you stay silent, not daring to look up in fear that you’ll crack. quinn never pushes you for conversation. he simply sits quietly until you’re done with your studies for the evening. maybe that’s what drew you towards him. he was patient, never really, truly invading your space. quinn just sat in your bubble, silently scrolling through his phone. he doesn’t even strike up conversations, he just sits there.

is this infatuation?

were you really wanting to break vows for a man you barely knew?

you lick your lips, eyes flickering towards him for only a second, maybe even less than that. he was handsome, from what you gathered. he dressed nicely, his clothes neat and not a wrinkle in place. your nostrils flare as you get a small whiff of his cologne from where he sat. earthy and light.

he looked a bit too good to be true.

you sigh softly, eyes focused on your paper in front of you. your exams are close, and you can feel the anxiety start to creep up.

you were so consumed by quinn for the past few minutes that you were slightly behind on your preferred schedule. you frown, making sure to bury your nose deep into your notes.

you weren’t sure, but you swore you could see a soft smirk on quinn’s lips out of the corner of your eye.

your resolve was disappearing.

quinn’s hair was wet, dressed in a loose sweater and sweatpants. his hands grip his phone a bit too tight. he greets you with a grunt, unusual to his chipper tone. it sent a shock down your spine. were you supposed to react that way to a frustrated man?

you sigh, trying your best to concentrate, but something was clearly bothering quinn as his brows furrowed in anger. your heart was aching for him.

god, you were aching for him.

as the weeks pass, doubt clouds your mind. what if this was a game to get you to talk? what if he just wanted what every other man wanted? what if he was playing with you?

all doubt leaves your mind for the moment when you notice the slouch in his posture.

“you okay?” you ask with a meek voice. it wasn’t like you to appear shy, someone with less resolve than what they’re credited for. but quinn breaks all your rules.

quinn looks up at you with a raised brow, “you’re asking?” his tone was playful.

you wanted to scoff and turn back to your books, but your body reacts quicker than your mind. “yeah.” you breathe. you sound out of breath, looking at him with a shy glint that almost drives him a bit crazy.

you were just so precious to him.

quinn didn’t see you as shy, quite the opposite actually. but seeing you fall apart just talking to him? he couldn’t help the fact that it boosted his ego. you were kind of known for blowing people off. so, when you asked about his well-being, he felt like he had to get on his knees for you.

not that he’d admit it.

“lost a game,” quinn tilts his head at you. watching your every move like you were bound to cower away any minute.

you nod, adverting eyes just for a split second before you’re greeted with a smirk on his lips. you twist in your seat a bit, “you’re smirking.”

“how am i supposed to stay composed?” he questions, leaning closer so his chest presses against the desk separating the two of you, elbows on the table, fingers interlocked after putting his phone down, “you’re just so cute when concerned.”

you puff your cheeks out, looking away from him completely. you wanted to brush off his compliment like you do with everyone else. you wanted to dig your nose in your books. you wanted to even possibly disappear.

at some point, you lose track of time. you’re not sure how long the two of you have been sitting in that awkward silence while you collect yourself. you’re not sure how long quinn has been looking at you.

you just know it’s longer than you would have liked.

“you’re conceited to think i was concerned,” you look at your laptop, not really bothering with your notes anymore, just simply looking away from quinn.

“so, you’re not?” he asks, leaning his head on his hand now.

you scoff, “you wish i was.”

“so what if i do?” he raises an eyebrow, “you barely know how to even look at me. i think it’d be a privilege to be cared by you.”

you squirm a bit in your seat, “what gives you that privilege then?”

quinn shrugs his shoulders, “only you know that.” he pauses, leaning back in his seat as he continues observing you, “but i’d be more than willing to get it, work hard for it. i know you’re a hard worker, how about letting me take over the hard work?”

you lick your lips, his words sounding more suggestive than you’d like them to. it sounds appealing to you. “work for it, then, i guess.”

quinn’s mouth sparkles in an infamous smile that makes your stomach flip, “giving me permission?”

you look at him finally, studying the way he looks at you. like you’re a challenge he’s not willing to give up on so easily.

“only for you.”

quinn doesn’t want to seem to ecstatic at your words, but he also hates the idea of you thinking he’s ungrateful. truth is, he’s more than ecstatic. he’s fucking off the wall happy. when those words slipped past your beautiful lips, he could hear birds start singing, he swears.

as the days pass, he slowly learns a little more about you. he can see how frightened you are. he can sense that a part of you hates this. hates the idea of him knowing you more than anyone else but yourself. he knows you’re guarded.

quinn doesn’t let it distract or deter him, though. he just patiently and slowly gets to know you more and more. he finally knows your favorite color, your favorite fruit, your favorite sweet. basic stuff that would normally bore someone, but in quinn’s reality, anything you give him is like gold. he even starts wearing your favorite color more often.

you notice the effort, and you can’t say you’re not affected by it. the closer you get to quinn, the more scared you get. but, also, the more curious you get. you would be lying if you said you weren’t interested in quinn, as well.

for all you knew, you could be signing up for your own downfall. but so could he.

maybe quinn wasn’t out to get you.

you sighed, sitting on your dorm bed. your roommate had gone out like she usually does, leaving you alone in the room. your thoughts start to bounce a bit, drifting towards quinn, against your better judgement.

as you’re about to lay down after showering and changing into something comfortable, you hear a knock. you scrunch your eyebrows, wondering if your roommate forgot her key. when you open the door and are instantly greeted with a big smile from such a gruff man, you feel shock down to your feet.

“how are you here?” your voice was incredulous, looking at quinn with big eyes.

“walked,” he shrugged, licking his lips with a smirk on his face.

“no, i mean,” you roll your eyes, “how do you know my dorm?”

“your roommate told me.” he looks at you, “saw her walking down the hallway, and she said that if i was looking for you, you were here.”

of course she did. your roommate didn’t exactly disrespect your boundaries, but she definitely did want you to get out there more. she was kind and more extroverted than you’d ever be. you figured at some point she would catch on to the fact that quinn was around you. it’s not like she never caught the two of you at the library talking.

you huff, “so you thought it was okay to come here?”

quinn shrugs, “thought maybe we were getting closer.”

you bite your lip, and quinn’s eyes travel downwards on instinct. oh how he wished he could just kiss you. he had been thinking about it for awhile. a lot longer than he’d like to admit.

“i guess,” you finally answer, looking into his eyes with vulnerability and uncertainty. he so desperately wanted to wash away all your doubts. especially the one’s about yourself.

“gonna let me in?” he quirks an eyebrow, expecting you to scoff in his face and shut the door on him. but you do the opposite, stepping aside and nodding your head.

“my roommate will be gone for awhile.” you state as he steps inside with cautious steps. you could feel the tension increase the second the door closes.

quinn’s eyes looked concerned, “are you sure this is okay with you? i mean i-”

you nod, stepping closer to him, “yeah, i don’t mind.”

you wanted to say how much you hated the way you could smell his specific cologne and soap. you wanted to say how much you hated how close the two of you were. you wanted to say how much you hated how badly you wanted to kiss him.

but all the hate burns into something different. a beautiful pit in your stomach that makes you step even closer to him.

quinn tenses up at your advances, looking at the way your night shorts rose higher along your thighs. seeing the way your shirt dipped. it made him visibly gulp. you were a sight for sore eyes, and he was afraid he would lose control if you continued your advances.

you could feel his breath fan your face in anxious waves, making you smile to yourself at just how nervous he actually gets around you. he had a strong, flirtatious resolve. just like you had a strong, reserved resolve. maybe the two of you weren’t too different, afterall.

you stand still, and the room goes quiet. you don’t move any further, waiting and anticipating quinn’s next move in action. it all felt slow-motion. something out of a movie, maybe.

quinn slowly raises a hand to your cheek, and you lean into his touch. he let’s out a breath of relief, your eyes connecting. it felt like the world stopped spinning for him. like he was looking straight into the eyes of an angel.

he could feel your skin start to burn at his touch, and he wanted to touch you everywhere after that. he wanted to break, fall apart into your arms and take what you give to him. take what you allow.

god, maybe he was falling in love.

“lost for words, hughes?” your face was still cradled into his hand, and he swallows.

he’s breathless, “i think so.”

your smile ignites something within him.

you were burning a fire within him that he couldn’t contain.

“don’t speak, then.” you say, eyes glimmering in the soft shade of your lamp in your dorm.

he can’t stop himself from leaning to close the gap between the two of you. he stops just before your lips touch, looking for approval. he sees the way your eyes flutter close, and he takes it as a sign to softly press his lips to yours.

quinn fears for his life the second your lips touch. he fears he will never get enough of this. little does he know that when you reach up to place your hand in his hair, you’re thinking the same thing.

your lips move slowly, languidly. it’s like the two of you want to embrace the moment as it is. something just as simple as a kiss, but just as complex as a blossoming relationship.

quinn has careful hand placements, staying on your face while the other is lightly tugging you closer by your back. you have a hand in his hair still, your other placed respectfully on his chest.

it’s a kiss you never imagined having. a kiss you never thought you wanted until this very moment. your whole world shifts on its axel and you become consumed by the way his beard brushes against you, the way his lips capture yours in a sweetness like honey.

you were trapped in quinn’s hold.

quinn was trapped in yours.

“how can you just say no?” quinn’s eyebrows furrow in frustration. he feels a slight sense of danger in the pit of his stomach when you turn to look at him.

“i don’t date, i don’t do dates. i can’t date.” you shook your head, scowling as you continue your walk towards your dorm. you felt like you were in some kind of romance show, and you hated it.

“says who?” quinn asks, following your trail like a puppy. he isn’t very subtle about how eager he has been to get to know you more as the days passed since you kissed. quinn became slowly more and more affectionate, throwing you off and messing with your head.

you purse your lips before responding, “says me.”

“so, you’re just going to reject me? for what reason?” quinn couldn’t understand you. he thought the two of you were genuinely getting closer. that he finally had a shot with you, especially after such a kiss that still sends tingles down his spine.

you’re almost at your door before quinn gently grabs your hand, making you stop in your tracks at the touch. he wasn’t pulling you towards him, no force involved in the act. it was all just pure instinct on your behalf on why you stopped.

you close your eyes and sigh before turning to look at him, “i need to make sure i graduate with honors, quinn. i made vows that i wouldn’t get involved with anyone, not even friends.”

“why? what good does that do?” quinn’s hand is cold against your own, “you’re doing so well. i’ve seen how hard you work, nobody can take that away from you. especially not me, i don’t even want to. i just want to..” he pauses, looking around as his cheeks turn a pretty pink, “i just want to be with… you.”

you want that too.

and your eyes soften at all the effort he has put in to getting to know you. to getting past all the doubts and walls you built up. no one has ever made the effort to know you as well as he does, and you’re not sure you’ll ever find that again if you let him walk away.

the idea of him no longer pursuing you and wanting you makes your heart ache. you wished you could hate it, but in all reality, you knew you wanted to keep pursuing and wanting him, too.

you were so used to being left alone before quinn arrived.

now you couldn’t imagine a day where quinn wasn’t there.

so, with strength, you grip his hand back. your warm hand surprises him when he feels your reassuring squeeze. he swears he could fall to his knees, kiss the ground you walk on. instead, he opts for kissing you.

it’s so rushed, emotions taking over as he grips your waist as if you’ll disappear. guilt washes over you when you realize that he does fear you’ll disappear. that you’ll walk away the second he stops kissing you.

you inhibitions are thrown out the window when quinn grabs your hand again, guiding you towards your dorm. you let out a soft laugh at his eagerness when he pulls the keys out of your jeans pocket to open the door. he sighs the second he realizes your roommate isn’t there, so fucking relieved.

he turns to kiss you again when he hears you shut your door, going back to how it had been just a few second ago. he was eager, so eager. he couldn’t help the way his hands trailed beneath your shirt and beneath your bra to cup your breast. he feels the gasp you let out between kisses, making him groan as he pinches your nipple just a couple times before pulling back.

you look disheveled, and he was so honored to be the reason why. when you approach him, he steps back. you frown, looking at him with concerned eyes.

“strip.” his words are demanding as he sits at the foot of your bed. he leans back, hands resting on your mattress. you swallow down your pride, quickly making rid of your shirt and bra. “all of it.”

his tone was husky, making you clench your legs together before following even more of his demands. it was like he had hold on you. he watched with hungry eyes, trailing all across your body as your lacy panties fall down with your jeans, leaving you vulnerable and left in nothing but socks.

he hums in appreciation before beckoning you towards him, and you don’t dare refuse. “i’m a bit underdressed here.” you whisper, and quinn chuckles a bit. he tugs at the seam of his shirt, pulling it over his head. he makes quick work of the buttons on his jeans and his boxers follow suit. you gasp a bit at the sudden action, adverting your eyes from his cock as it sprung up against his stomach.

quinn smirks to himself when he notices how shy you really, truly are. he grabs at your hand to bring you back to reality, your eyes meet, and it takes everything in him not to devour you completely. how could someone with such a strong head, have such a beautiful doe eyed expression when vulnerable?

“there you go, baby.” the nickname consumes you, swallowing you whole. your ears are ringing as you walk closer to him, feeling the soft pull of his hand to tug you towards him. “you’re gorgeous.”

he sounds breathless, like he’s seen nothing like it before. like it’s his first time seeing someone naked. it’s not, but you’re definitely the most beautiful thing he has ever seen in that very moment.

you make way to straddle him, and he hums in happiness, a smile spreading across his features. “want this cock, sweetheart?” he tilts to look at you, holding your face in one of his hands so you don’t look away.

you lick your lips, eyes glossy as they stay connected with his, “yes.”

quinn smiles, placing a soft kiss to your lips before flipping the two of you over. you let out a soft sound at the sudden change of scenery, him hovering over you with a determined look in his eye.

quinn reaches down, feeling just how soaked you are. “oh?” he perches an eyebrow up, slipping his fingers through your folds, “so wet already, could slide right in.”

“please,” your voice is meek, small but still breaking through the tension just enough to gather quinn’s attention. it honestly drives him crazy.

quinn groans, “wanted to tease you a bit more,” he says in defeat as he begins to line his cock up with your tight entrance, “but it’ll have to wait another time. really need to fuck you. been needing it for weeks.”

his confession makes the stretch he causes all the more pleasurable when he finally pushes in. you were so tight, making him stop the second he bottoms out. he really couldn’t handle cumming too fast right now.

your sounds are symphonies. he listens to every single one, making sure to pack them away for days he needed release and thought of you. he can feel the way you’re gripping so tightly onto his shoulders, almost like you’re trying to ground yourself.

everything about this moment was electrifying.

quinn kisses your temple, “gonna move, okay?” he waits for your eager little nod before he continues. he’s slow at first, groaning at the tight pull your pussy gives him. “you feel like a fucking dream.” his voice is coarse, struggling to keep composure.

you buck your hips up, “more. need more.”

he can’t stop himself now. not when your voice comes out in whiny little gasps. not when you’re rolling your hips up to feel even more of him. no, not when you’re allowing him to have you.

you gasp when he picks up speed, eyes rolling back as he hits a spot inside you that has you wrapping your legs around his torso. quinn observes all of your reactions, making note of where to thrust, how hard, how fast. and it all feels too good.

he can feel your fingers digging into his shoulders, your moans becoming increasingly louder with each thrust of his hips. it was all so magnetic, so natural between the two of you. nothing felt awkward as he fucked you.

when you start to feel a tug in your lower belly, you tug on his hair, “quinn..” you gasp, opening your eyes and seeing the sweat starting to form on his forehead. “fuck, i’m-”

“i know, can feel you clenching, baby.” quinn picks up his pace, more eager than before to see you cum for him. “cum on my cock, know you want to. need to see you, need to feel you.”

you squeeze your eyes shut as you feel the flutter of your cunt around his dick. you cum with a small squeak, moans falling out of your mouth relentlessly. it wasn’t like anything you’ve felt before. your own release triggers quinn’s, he really couldn’t help it with how tight your pussy clung to him and how beautiful you looked cumming for him.

he swears this was his heaven.

he needed you forever.

your labored breathing brought him back to reality as you slowly released your hold on him. he’s quick to grab tissues from your bedside and clean you up.

“uh,” quinn says awkwardly, staring at you after throwing away the tissues, “do you have a shower?” you smile to yourself before nodding, admiring the way he now looks less territorial, and more soft. he nods back before helping you up. “let’s shower, then.”

you don’t argue.

this seemed to be the end of fighting your feelings for quinn hughes.

“i passed!” you exclaim, rushing towards your boyfriend as he makes quick work to catch you in a tight hug. “i did it, quinn!” your smile was so radiant, something he could never stop admiring.

quinn kisses your cheek, “of course you did, baby. i always knew you could.”

you look at him with excited eyes, “they’re all almost perfect scores, quinn.”

quinn nods, a smile adorning his beautiful features, “you’ve always had it in you.” he pauses before smirking, “see? i didn’t distract you too much.”

you scoff, wrapping your arms up around his neck, “you would’ve if i let you.”

quinn shrugs, knowing you were right.

when quinn approached you, you had to battle all your internal battles with yourself. you had to put down your vows for him, and still hold true to your word about graduating with honors. quinn frightened you, but it was in the best way possible.

quinn fought for you when you didn’t want to be fought for. at least, that’s what you thought. you didn’t know you needed someone like quinn hughes in your life before he showed up and turned your world upside down.

it’s such a cliché, it almost makes you sick.

but, for now, you’ll ignore it.

you lean up to kiss your now boyfriend, quinn hughes.

if you had never decided to talk that day in the library, you were sure you wouldn’t be so elated right now.

all it took, was to just talk.

talk just for a minute.

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes angst #quinn hughes fluff #quinn hughes scenario #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes fic #nhl #nhl fic #nhl imagine #nhl hockey #nhl smut #nhl fluff #nhl angst

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transmascissues · 3 months

Text

next time someone tries to tell me people don’t demonize and act violently toward trans men and transmascs, i’m just going to make them read this reply i got to a positivity post that was specifically about trans manhood and transmasculinity. this is basically just every negative thing people say no one says about us rolled into one message that’s aimed directly at us.

and as if this isn’t enough on its own, their whole blog is full of this disgusting shit. it seems to be dedicated to it, actually. (fair warning, don’t look at the next two screenshots if you don’t want to see even more genuinely awful transphobia.)

you can say what you want about how they’re probably just a troll or baiting or doing this for attention but the fact remains that, regardless of their true intentions, these are real things that a real person is saying about trans men&mascs, publicly and proudly and to our faces because they want it to do damage.

i’ve dealt with people like this before, on a much closer level. when i was a teenager, i had a grown woman come into my dms just to send me very graphic and detailed instructions on how to kill myself. literally entire paragraphs with all of the steps she wanted me to take. before i blocked her, i told her she was lucky she sent it to me and not someone more vulnerable, because otherwise she might have real blood on her hands. she just sent the whole thing again.

we can argue all day about infantilization versus demonization, erasure versus hypervisibility, what counts as violence, what words we use to talk about our oppression, and so on. but the reality is, whether you believe people want us dead or not, they clearly do, and a lot of them really aren’t making any effort to hide it. at this point, if you can’t see it, it’s because you don’t care about our lives enough to look at the reality that’s right in front of your face.

before you do anything else, block this person. don’t engage with them directly, don’t give them the satisfaction of the attention they might be fishing for, just block them. but don’t forget that they exist either, especially if you’re not a trans man or transmasc yourself. don’t just block them and move on and forget that there are real people out there who will say these things about us, who genuinely enjoy the thought that their actions might have deadly consequences.

because these are the people you empower to come out of hiding and start being blatant about their hatred when you insist that no one wants us dead, when you openly mock us and demonize us and try to cast us out from the community that we were supposed to share. when even our own people decide we’re an acceptable target, these bigots throw a fucking party because you’ve just told them they can get away with murder as long as it’s our blood on their hands. this particular blog was started recently, and i guarantee it’s not a coincidence that they started it in the midst of a rise in online anti-transmasculinity.

it really is telling, how much hate a positivity post has incited. y’all can’t stand when we talk about the bad things that happen to us, but you hate our happiness even more.

#i feel like i haven’t made a properly angry post in a while. so here’s this #tw suicide #tw suicide baiting #tw transphobic violence #examples of transandrophobia #transandrophobia #transandromisia #transmisandry #virilphobia #virilmisia #anti transmasculinity #transmascphobia #normally i add more general tags but i don’t feel right putting these screenshots in those tags

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angelltheninth · 1 month

Note

Intimate moments #3: whuspering to each other with Arthur from RDR2? I loved thst little smut blurb you did for him.

Arthur is the kind of man anyone wants. Evidence: me.

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, developing relationship, whispering, flirting, secret relationship, almost kiss

A/N: Remember to reblog and comment to support writers. Also I'm taking commissions right now so DM me if you're interested.

3. Whispering to each other

Arthur sat alone most of the time when he visited your saloon, or suppose it was your dad's but these days you ran it more than him. He preferred to stay behind the counter, pouring drinks and making small talk. It was up to you to go from table to table and Arthur's was always your favorite.

The gunslinger kept to himself most of the time, only getting involved when the situation called for it. Which in your small town wasn't often.

"It's why I like it here. A man can finally relax and put his feet up." He smirked from his chair, leaning far back on it, one leg propped up on the empty chair next to him.

"You know I like your company Arthur but if I see you putting your filthy, dusty boots on one of my tables you'll be the one cleaning them all night." You playfully pushed his foot back down as you set a full glass in front of him.

He laughed in a way he knew would attract attention. Specifically... "Yer dad's lookin' this way again missy."

You knew he would. Your old man didn't hate Arthur of course but he had a mild fatherly distain toward any man who spent a lot of time with you. So naturally you were attracted to Arthur even more, with his soft eyes and charming grin and adventurous spirit.

As you bent forward to wipe down the table you leaned in a bit too much, Arthur's eyes flickering down for a moment. "Is he looking?" You asked in a hush tone.

"Yeah. Your dad looks like he's tryin' to kill me right now." He didn't seem to scared of that threat. He's outrun many dangers, angry fathers were the least of them. "Does he know about... our outings?"

"I suspect that he suspects." You smiled knowingly as he tried to kiss you. In response you grabbed his hat and pushed it into his face. "If you want a kiss you have to be alive to get it."

"I can do that. Same time tonight?" He whispered, his hat further muffling his words against the noisy backdrop of the saloon.

"I'll be there." Dating Arthur in secret was by far the most exciting thing that's happened to you. The fact that it drives your overprotective dad crazy is an added bonus. You're pretty sure he'll come around soon, Arthur's charms have a way to making people like him.

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan fluff #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 fluff #rdr2 x female reader #arthur morgan x female reader #red dead redemption x female reader #fluff drabble #x female reader

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starillusion13 · 2 months

Text

Our Girl

request: "can you do san wooyoung and y/n in a poly they have nsfw and and they love each other but they dont know it until one of them say they like the other two"

Pairing: San x reader x Wooyoung

Genre: Fluff, Friends to lovers, Smut

Warnings: they are caring bestfriends to you😫, mention of insult in public by your toxic crush, lots of kissing, fingering, big San, big Woo, crying, thigh slapping, breast play, praising, comfort, aftercare.

W.C: 4.1k

Note: please I want to thanks to people for reading and reblogging. Reviews are always appreciated. Spread love not hate. This fic is so and so for me Ik😔.

Network: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity

MINORS DONT INTERACT UNDER THE POST🔞

🫶

"What happened, y/n?" San asked you from across the room as soon as he saw you entering the house from the front door. You had a grumpy look on your face visible and almost kicked your shoes aside before placing the bag on a chair and plopped on the chair couch.

He had called you earlier on your way back home and you didn't reply like usual and you were eager to cut the call. And it's very usual for your best friends to ask you about the thing that was torturing you and making you so dull.

You leaned back and rested your head, closing your eyes as you sighed deeply.

A hand entangled in your head started caressing your scalp and you smiled and hummed to the touch. The hand movements made it clear of the owner of the sweet gestures.

A small smile resting on your face and the man behind you patted your cheeks, urging you to speak.

"I don't want to talk." You said angrily.

"Where were you?" Wooyoung detached his hands from your scalp and stood in front of you.

"Look at me, y/n." He crossed his arms and stared at you. You refused to look at him and shook your head.

San chuckled and stood up from his place and stood beside his bestfriend. They knew very well that you were exhausted and grumpy with something. After all, both of them being your best friends since college life and also roommates since then made you three closer with each other.

You always felt glad to get them as your bestfriend because they treated you like their own family and of course you tried to do a lot in return as well. Today they have returned early from their workplace.

It's very much clear that they don't let anything happen to you or let anything to slide if that something is causing you problem and now when you are exhausted and snapping at them. They wouldn’t leave the spot unless you are confessing everything.

San crouched down in front of you and caressed your hand, "y/n..." his voice was a scale lower than usual and it was demanding but still you were choosing to close your eyes and ignore them. After all, you wanted some rest after having the worst day of your life. "Wooyoung is asking you something."

"And I said I don't want to talk. Please keep quiet. My head hurts so bad right now."

To your blind vision, San nodded towards the standing boy and the other was quick to go back into the kitchen. San patted your hand and smiled, "it's okay. You don't have to talk with us. But please go and get fresh. I'll prepare a bath for you."

You felt hurt when you heard his soft and caring voice towards you. They didn't do anything then why were you ignoring them. They were just trying to help you out with your situation and trying to lift up your mood. You mentally scolded yourself that if there were some other people then they would have left you long back for your behavior during your down times.

Your eyes flutter open and quickly you noticed how he was still on the floor but his gaze was on you. The look was very endearing but there was something he was hiding. Your mind and eyes are really playing with you today.

"I'm sorry. But Thank you, San."

He shook his head and stood up, "come on. Don't say sorry. You are disturbed with something and it's okay to be like this with us. I don't mind. But come fast upstairs, I'm preparing the bath for you." He patted your cheeks and with hurried steps, he disappeared towards the stairs.

Craning your neck, you saw a familiar back of a figure in a black tshirt and trouser busy in the kitchen. You pressed your lips and went into the direction to find him placing some boxes on the countertop.

He looked up and smiled, "y/n?"

"I'm sorry."

"It's okay. But are you okay? Where were you though?" He asked you before placing the last item in the corner and leaned on the counter.

"Oh...don't ask about that. It's a nightmare to be in today's situation. Please Woo, don't ask me this again."

He shook his head and stared at you," no y/n. If you don't share with us then how come we'll sort out the problem. You know very clearly how I hate seeing you like this."

Taking a grape from the bowl, he swat your palm before taking it away. "Go wash your hands."

Rolling your eyes, you took the water bottle, "I'm just going to freshen up. Eating a grape wouldn't have matter much." After a small gulp of water, your throat felt like to cool it down.

His eyes followed your every movements until your eyes met his, "what are you looking at? I know I probably look like a shit right now."

"You look beautiful...always." He whispered the words but loud enough to make it audible for

you. You smirked and as soon as you were going to reply him, San called your name from upstairs.

"Gotta go." You laughed when he shook his head at your dramatic exit. But you could hear him say loudly, "come down fast or I won't be keeping any food left for you."

"Oh you will! You know how much I love your cooking."

Your hurried steps could be heard by both of them and the moment you entered your room, you could see San standing with folded hands and staring darkly at you.

"Why were you running? I told you so many times not to run in stairs, it's risky."

You took off your jacket and placed it on the bed and put your phone on the table after plugging it to charge. You smiled, "don't scold me as if I'm a baby."

"Yes you are. You are my baby."

"What?"

"Now come on go inside. The food will be getting cold if you don't hurry up. And that doesn't mean to run down the stairs. Take the bath quickly."

You shoved him out of your room when he was sticked to his spot and scolding you and telling you so many things at once . You had it enough of him and you didn't want to hear a single word more from him.

You were humming a song when coming down the stairs and your gaze fell on Wooyoung and San sitting together on the sofa. They were having some conversations between them and so you tip toed over to the place and stood behind them.

"Boo!"

"Oh gosh!" "Who?!"

You laughed out loud when you saw their surprised faces and you leaned to the sofa for support while laughing. They watched you in disbelief but soon little smiles spread across their faces.

"Y/n."

"So you are scared of ghosts."

San shook his head and nudged the other to follow him while he replied you, " no we are not scared of ghost. It's called getting shocked with sudden surprise."

"Huh! Deny deny. I have seen the look on your faces."

They were arranging the plates on the table and you helped them with bringing the foods over there from the countertop. The smell was already making your stomach growl. They saw your excitement when you noticed they have made your favorite foods.

"Is this because I was snapping at you both earlier?" You asked them and quickly took a bite of the meat. Your eyes lit up.

San nodded and Wooyoung proudly walked to your side and pinched your nose, "yes. I know that only food can make you happy."

"Oh you know me too well. Thank you so much."

"The mixed rice is made by San. He was learning to make it last since Wednesday and finally he made it happen." San smacked his head when he revealed his attempts.

"Thanks. You both are blessings in my life. I don't know what I would have done without you two." Wooyoung sat beside you and San across from you. They both noticed your sigh in the end of the sentence and they exchanged looks.

"Y/n." San called your name in a low tone. You quickly looked up but your hands and mouth was still working on to feed yourself. "Where did you go? Why are you so down?"

Wooyoung quickly added to his sentence "Please tell us what happened."

You chewed the food and gulped a bit of water from the glass, " that guy I mentioned to you yesterday asked me to meet today over dinner after working hours."

They nodded and urged you to continue and so you did while looking down at your plate, "he didn't ask me to spend time with him but for his worst intention. He called over some of my university students and insulted me in front of them. he made fun of me of how once I have proposed him." you brushed back your hairs and sighed again, "it was long ago but still he had to mention it."

San grabbed the spoon tightly in his hold, clenching his jaw with the thought of how to commit a murder. when his eyes locked with the other boy in the room, he noticed he had a similar look on his face like him.

Wooyoung turned towards you and his heart ached when he saw tears falling down from your eyes and San was watching you from across the table. you wiped off the tears and smiled at them before putting a piece of meat inside your mouth, "I should've known before that he is an asshole. it would've been better if I had proposed one of you."

the words randomly came out of your mouth that you didn't notice that the two boys who were keenly listening to you had their ears perked up. proposed to them? the sudden awkward and silent atmosphere got interrupted by your unusual laugh. Wooyoung had an amused expression at your poor attempt to hide your shyness and San urged both of you to eat.

he was waiting for the dinner to end.

No one said anything regarding the last words came out of your mouth but you could feel the tension in the atmosphere when laying down on the couch in the living room after the dinner and both of them sitting near you. San was sitting on the space at the very end of the couch near your feet and Wooyoung was sitting on a chair. both of them staring at you.

you were laying comfortably but when you feel two pairs of eyes---of your bestfriends on you, you rolled your eyes before raising your brows at them, "now, what's up with you two?"

"what do you mean by proposing one of us?" San was the first one to raise the topic. you chuckled and paused the video on your phone and replied, "oh that's nothing. forget about it."

"Y/n...did you see what happened to you when you didn't listen to us about that guy? whenever you ignored us, you got yourself in a new problem." he stated and rested his palm over your ankles. that was a common gestures and you were used to their often skin-ship but today his sudden touch made your body shivered.

you switched off the screen and sighed, "I know and I'm sorry."

"Look y/n. you don't have to be sorry for that but atleast let us know what is bothering you."

Afterall, he is right. they do so much for you and in return, you cant even tell them your problems.

you glanced at both of them and closed your eyes, "It might sound weird but I...have feelings for my best friends. please I know or maybe don't know if you both have girlfriends or boyfriends or anyone but it's just i had to tell you to take off this feelings away from my heart."

you bit your lips and cursed yourself again. is this going to end your friendship between you three. No, right? oh gosh. what have you done? you inhaled sharply and pulled your legs to get off the couch but you got halted.

Someone grabbed your ankles and pulled your legs straight. your eyes fluttered open and you looked at him confused but the look on his face was so unpredictable. it was dark yet somewhere a caring and protectiveness was surrounding him. you looked towards your side to find Wooyoung standing with crossed hands over his chest.

"It's not weird to have feelings for someone so obvious." Wooyoung stated and stared at you darkly.

you blinked, "what do you mean?"

"Y/n...if i say the feelings are mutual." he said and glanced at the boy sitting beside your feet. you looked over to him as well to find him nodding at his words.

"Are you serious? really?"

Wooyoung laughed at your wide eyed look and crouched down beside you to flick your nose, "yes baby. so what do you say? shall we?"

"shall we what?" you tried to get up but Wooyoung pushed you down by pushing down your shoulders against the leather. "what?"

San chuckled and shook his head, "Woo... not now."

are you thinking right? they are wanting the same thing like yours right? come on...its been so long you have get off yourself and you have never been laid off. but what if they want something else and you are just depicting the situation in a wrong way.

"Please...it's now. I want it now." you whispered the words to them. they both stared at you after hearing it.

"Do you know what you are asking for?" San's grip tightened with the words from his mouth. Your anticipating eyes and the way you licked your lips when slowly nodding towards them made him lose his mind.

Wooyoung chuckled and you looked at him, "you are asking for something which can change every dynamic of this relationship." You again nodded at his words.

You grabbed his wrist and squeezed it, "I know...please."

The way you looked at him, as if you lured him towards you and he was quick to attach his lips onto yours. A lot of thoughts were storming inside your mind but the top of everything was that your best friend was kissing you. You agreed to kiss—to do everything with your best friend.

He had immersed himself into the moment but you were staring at him, your palms resting on his cheeks, entangling with his hairs and smoothing over the neck and then when you felt a separate set of hands fondling your thighs. You were gasping for the lack of air but the one kissing you had no intention of leaving you at anytime soon.

You pulled him away from you and you breathed heavily, "I would have died of lack of air, Woo."

His laugh echoed inside the wide room and he kissed your cheek. San leaned forward to hovered on top of you. The movements caused your top to ride up a little exposing little part of your stomach. San smiled at the sight and kissed on the exposed flesh making you giggle and he soon pressed his lips on yours. His kiss was sort of hungry than the other one. He was alternating between kissing your jaw, your throat and cheek. His palm over your breast squeezed it lightly, earning low moans out of your mouth.

"Y/n...if you continue making those sounds then I might have you in such a ways that you can't even think of." San whispered into your ears while resting on top of yours.

"Then have me like that." You said and smirked at him.

He chuckled and pecked the tip of your nose, "you are so bad, baby."

You smiled and felt him pulled you upwards with him to let Wooyoung sit behind you. He hugged you from behind and snuggled in your shoulders and murmured sweet praises in your ears. You patted his head with one hand and San kissed your other one which was intertwined with his.

"Is it your first time?" San asked you before slowly pulling down your short and caressed your thighs. You nervously bit your lips and shyly nodded.

A nervousness appeared on your face and they both noticed your sudden change in behavior. And Wooyoung kissed your ears, "what happened? Do you want me to stop? Just say it, y/n."

"No!" You quickly denied. "It's just I don't know if I can handle this or any."

San cupped your cheeks and smiled, "it's okay. We won't cross the limits. Just two for us okay?"

"Hm..."

Wooyoung's hand disappeared under your top when he unclipped your bra to feel your breasts got loose in his hold. He bit your neck and kissed away the pain. You were so lost in the moment that you didn't notice San had put aside your panty to insert a finger when you gasped.

"It's okay, y/n. You are okay." Both of them praised you. San groaned when he felt you clenching around his finger. When he felt your sensitive skin filling up his fingers with slick, he smirked and added one more fingers and started pumping at a higher speed.

"Oh gosh! Just look at her face, San. She is already done with just fingers. How will she last with us inside her?" His laugh echoed in your ears.

"Stop it!" You whined and San chuckled, "do you want me to stop?"

"No! I mean I can take you both. It's just...feels too good."

"Really?" He increased his pace and Wooyoung pinched your nipples and massaged your breasts. Your chest heaving up and down. San noticed your attempt to close the legs around his hand but he held them apart, "don't or I will stop."

"No no please more...please more..I.. I"

"Are you close?" He asked you and you nodded. He slapped your thigh, "use your words."

"Yes yes...please..."

He detached his hands from your core and pulled down his own pants to reveal his hard member and red tip poking at your vision. You gulped at the sight of the size and he noticed your eyes focused on it and ruffled your hairs.

"Can you take it?"

"I think so..."

He pecked you before slowly entering you. You cried out in pain for the sudden stretch. San first had a concern etched on his face but quickly pulled out.

"Are you okay?" He brushed your hairs and cupped your face to look at your teary eyes.

You nodded, "yes...please San."

"Are you sure?"

You nodded and first he entered just the tip. Your breath hitched and you whimpered. Wooyoung cooed at you and grabbed your chin to pull you in a kiss to distract you from the pain. Your palms tightly clutched San's shoulders and he hissed when your nails digging in his skin because of his sleeveless tshirt.

San moved your attention on him and increased his pace when your previous orgasm returned again. You couldn't take him properly but he didn't mind, he was just concentrating on you. He wanted you safe.

Soon, when he felt you clenching, he was sure you were near to come and groaned before pulling you in a kiss. He was both hungry and desperate for you. His thumb rubbed circles over your clit and you whined.

The look on your face when the orgasm hit you was enjoyed by both of them. San groaned at the sight of your blissed out expression.

"You look so hot like this. I can't stop myself."he said and leaned back. “I love you baby.”

“San.” You shyly called his name and he moved your chin up to look at him, “say it pretty.”

“I love you too.”

Wooyoung turned you around when the other one pulled himself out after riding out the high.

You were still in a daze because of the previous activity and he rested your head on his shoulder, stroking your hairs, "it's okay. Take breaths." His other hand pulling down his pants down and soon you felt his tip poking your entrance.

His gestures were always sweet and he was taking time to let yourself relax before he could have you. You hummed in silence and sighed.

He soon felt your breaths were normal against his skin and he used his two fingers to scissor you and painted the walls with your slick. You moaned to his touch and he pecked your nose.

"You are so cute..."

You kissed his shoulder then his neck before facing him in front and pecked his lips. He smirked at you, “it’s seems like you are enjoying this too much.”

“Please…woo…please.”

He caressed your cheek and you snaked your hands around his neck when he slowly entered his tip inside you. When he saw a green sign, then inserted his whole length, stretching you out. He kissed your eyes and pressed his lips onto yours.

“Is it okay? Hurting somewhere?” He murmured softly and caressed your back. Again, his hand went under your top to put his attention on your breasts and you moaned.

He didn’t move and made you still with the right grip on your waist. Tears welled up in your eyes for the unbearable pain but you were constantly nodding to give him the sign to proceed.

But he didn’t. He was enjoying your impatience.

Another pair of hands patted your head and when you looked at the direction, you found San kneeling beside you both and encouraging you to adjust to the length.

You shifted in your place and Wooyoung groaned loudly. As soon as you whined, he grabbed your neck and breast and started moving in a slow pace.

It was building up the euphoric feeling once again, the pain turning into pleasure and your body shaking with every little torture on your nipples. The sensitive skin over your throat and neck was getting bruised by him. Not only him but San was enjoying your skin against his lips as well.

“You are so tight and clenching around me as if you don’t want me to stop tonight. Is it right, baby?” He moaned out loudly.

San chuckled in your ears, “isn’t she so perfectly tight? Like perfect for us.”

His pace increased and you were literally bouncing on his lap. You didn’t have to do anything much because he was guiding you through.

“I..I want to come…please.”

“Do you?” He smirked mischievously and rubbed slow circles over your clit. You nodded aggressively but he grabbed your neck to pull you close and pressed a small kiss, “words baby.”

“Yes yes please.”

“Here you go.” He thrusted deeper until you both come undone. Both of your chests heaving up and down against each other. He didn’t pull out but rested your head against his shoulder and San stroked your hairs.

“Shh…slow down. Are you okay?”

You hummed in reply, earning a kiss from both of them on your head.

“So?… did you just do it to take off my mind from the incident happened earlier?”

San asked you, “did it take off your mind from it?”

You nodded, “but there’s something else.”

“What?” Wooyoung asked you and raised your head to cup your cheeks. He smiled at you and you returned a little kiss.

“Does this sound selfish that I don’t want to choose one of you? But both.” You asked and whined when he pulled out.

“Yes.” San said and glanced at the other one before cracking into a smile, “it will sound selfish if you choose one….as we are not planning to leave you to only one.”

“And no one else other than from us. I love you…I fucking love you so much. My wish came true to have you as my girlfriend.” Wooyoung cheered in the end of the sentence.

“I love you too, Woo.”

You again rested your head on him and closed your eyes, “I’m so tired…but again I need to wash up.”

“It’s okay. You rest here. We will clean you up and we will sleep together.” San said and stood up.

Your eyes opened, “really?”

“Anything for our girl.”

Taglist: @mymoodwriting @justhere4kpop @anyamaris @yeoobin @icchyi @jwnghyuns @piratequeen-queenofgames @dinonuguaegi @oreharuuu @hwanring @sanwifesstuff @kiwiisnthereoops @kiwiraccoon @hyuukah @kazscara @aceofspadesbiofalltrades @nvdhrzn @meowmeeps @vtyb23 @haechansbbg

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prazinos · 1 year

Text

Ghost in the Austrian Asylum

Pairings ~ Ghost x You x König

König had a crush on both you and Ghost, but he would be surprised to learn that the two people he was practically infatuated with were married. Lucky for him, the two of you want him as well.

WC : 3K

Warnings ~ Oral {F&M} | PiV | Anal {M} | Toys | Masturbation {M} | Threesome | Unprotected Sex | Sub!König Switch!Reader Dom!Ghost | Descriptions of violence (just a little not a lot) | Creampie |

No use of Y/N (i don't think, there isn't supposed to be)

Not proofread (yet)

When König joined the 141, he was terrified. He knew of Price's habit. Picking some of the most lethal men in the military.

So he was surprised when he met you. The notorious 'Asylum', greeting him with a smile and a hug. Talking about how she had seen his file. Really impressive work.

König knew about your file as well. Knew that most of it couldn't be seen as it was marked as 'confidential'. So, why were you called Asylum?

When he asked Soap about this, the Scotsman merely laughed, telling him that he'll find out soon.

Find out soon he did. You were on a mission, and the team had a guy kidnapped for questioning. Nobody could get anything out of him.

'We should send her in' Price stated, lighting a cigar.

Ghost merely chuckled while Soap went white.

'Put König in with her. He should see what she's capable of' Ghost suggested.

Price nodded and motioned for you both to head into the room.

König followed you closely. Curious as to what you would do.

The man tied to the chair lifted his head, smirking when he saw you.

'And what are you gonna do pretty girl?' He asked.

You merely got closer to him, leaning down in front of his face.

'Listen, you could tell me what I need to know, or you can be in a world of pain' you said quietly.

'Fuck. You. Whore.'

You sighed, getting up and exiting the room, before coming in with a duffel bag? König stared at you.

Watching the way you dumped the bag on the ground. Grabbing a hammer out of it.

You gripped the hammer tightly before slamming it into the mans left kneecap. The man screamed out in pain, the sound of his knee cap breaking making König shudder slightly.

'Are you gonna tell me anything yet?' you asked, almost kindly.

the man kept his mouth shut.

you shrugged, reaching back into the bag, grabbing pliers.

'I'm gonna pull out your teeth one by one, until you give me an answer. If the answer you give me isn't worth my time or untruthful, I'm ripping out a nail' you said grabbing his jaw.

By the time you had gotten your answers, the man had only 4 teeth and 3 fingernails.

König understood why you were called Asylum now.

And he hated to admit that the scene had him feeling things. Watching you make this man who was at least twice the size of you break and cry, had him thinking.

But what felt most unsettling, you were back to smiles and jokes almost immediately after the ordeal.

König had a crush. He hated that word. He had a crush on you...and Ghost. But he couldn't help it. Ghost had this voice that drove him crazy, and your lighthearted personality compared to you on a mission had König's head spinning.

And what was worse? Soap knew.

'You haven't got a chance lad' he laughed.

'W-what why? I-I think I'm nice enough' König spluttered

'because they're married-'

'wait what'

'-to each other'

'oh'

God that did not help König in the slightest. His mind now swarming with images of the two of you fucking. You pressed against a wall, Ghost fucking into you hard enough that picture frames were falling off the wall.

Images of you giving Ghost the most soul sucking head, Ghost fucking your face, tears streaming down your cheeks.

Images of Ghost biting your thighs before shoving his face into your cunt. You gripping his hair like a vice. Bucking your hips, practically riding his face.

But his mind crossed into new territory. Something he hadn't thought of before.

You and Ghost fucking him, together.

You grinding on König's cock as Ghost fucks him. Ghost grabbing your hair, pulling your head back to spit in your mouth.

You sucking König's cock, leaving a sticky ring around the base of his cock from your lip-gloss. Your ass in the air as Ghost fucks into you from behind, causing you to moan around König's cock, creating a vibrator effect.

The idea of you and König tying Ghost to the bed, teasing him, using a vibrator all over him, except the part he needs it most just to have his hard exterior crumble.

'König!' Soap said loudly, waving a hand in front of König’s face.

'Sorry, got distracted' König sighed

'I can tell' Soap chuckled.

Thankfully, Soap didn't bring it up again. Merely throwing a glance when König would stare at you and Ghost for too long. To which König could feel himself burning up under the mask.

But one day Soap told König that you and Ghost were sparring. One of your guys' infamous sparring sessions. Everybody on base talks about them. Especially Soap.

As König and Soap walk in, already seeing the two of you in the sparring ring, König whispers to Soap.

'This is hardly a fair fight, they're gonna go easy on each other because they're married'

Soap just cackled, slapping König on the back.

König was so, so wrong. As soon as Soap said the word, you and Ghost were kicking, punching, König even thinks he see's you bite Ghost at one point.

König watched as you pulled Ghost's head down towards your raised knee. hearing the crack of Ghost's mask. Holy shit.

König hated how turned on he was. Watching you smile down at Ghost sweetly, before landing a punch on his jaw.

'I have to go' König mumbled

'Have fun!' Soap yelled

König got back to his room fairly quickly. rushing to lie down on his bed, his hands flying to get his belt unbuckled and fly unzipped.

Pulling out his painfully hard cock, he spat in his hand, stroking slowly, as his hand reached the tip, he swiped his thumb over the slit, causing himself to whimper quietly.

He couldn't get you and Ghost out of his head. What Ghost's cock would taste like, what you would taste like.

He imagined himself and Ghost, holding you, sandwiched between the two burly men, Ghost fucking into your ass, König fucking into the tight heat of your cunt. Your head lolled onto Ghosts shoulder, unable to hold in the whimpers.

And then his mind flew to having you sit in front of a full length mirror, Ghost devouring your cunt as you sat between König's legs, watching yourself come over and over on Ghost's tongue as König sucked hickeys and tweaked your nipples.

König was so close to his release. His eyes shut in pleasure, one more swipe of his thumb over his slit, he knew he would be done for.

But König was suddenly grabbed by his shirt, and slammed against the wall. His eye's shot open, to see Ghost, his piercing eyes, full of anger. König whimpered, he was fucking terrified, but he couldn't help the feeling of arousal that flooded through him and down to his cock.

Ghost looked ravishing. His balaclava not covering the chest that peaked from his tight fitting shirt, his chest (of what König could see) was sweaty, and König wanted to lick the beads of sweat that were probably running down Ghost's face.

His cock jumped at the thought, and that didn't go unnoticed by Ghost. König was roughly pulled from the wall before being slammed back into it

'You like getting off to the thought of fucking my wife?' Ghost practically growled.

'N-no! I swear, I swear I don't! Please!' König exclaims, tears filling his eyes.

'He's right honey, he wasn't getting off to the thought of just me' you giggled from behind Ghost.

Oh fuck, this was so much worse. So, so much worse. You were here too.

Ghost huffed letting go of König

'Are you okay König? Hope Simon didn't hurt you too badly' you asked, moving in front of him.

What was going on? You should be terrified, disgusted, mad, furious. But you're caressing König's face instead.

König swallowed thickly, looking down at you.

'We know about your dirty little thoughts König' you smile.

König wanted to die. Right then and there. How? How did you know?

'You aren't very quite soldier' Ghost said gruffly. König's eyes widened as he looked between the two of you.

König couldn't get the two of you fucking him senseless out of his mind. His hand moving at an almost inhumane speed, he tried covering his moans. But some slipped through.

'Scheiße! Bitte! Asylum, Ghost please, please let me come! oh Scheiße!'

Fuck. That was a week ago. König could've sworn he heard footsteps outside his door. But he couldn't care less as his orgasm rocked through him.

'König~' you said, his eyes snapping back to you. You reached down and gripped König's cock.

And König came.

König fucking came.

From your hand merely grasping his dick.

König could hear you and Ghost laughing together as he rode his high, bucking his hips into your hand.

As he came down from his (mind-blowing) orgasm, whimpering as he felt a hand stroking him still.

He looked down to see Ghost's gloved hand, König's head shot up, looking at the only slightly shorter man.

'Ha-ah~ Ghost, please~!' König cried out

'König, sweetie, you don't have to call him Ghost anymore. Call him by his real name, he'll go feral' you voiced from the bed.

'Si, Scheiße, SiMON~!' König wailed as cum spurted from his cock again.

König felt like he was gonna pass out, he felt tears under his hood.

The fabric sticking to his face was annoying him, and he wanted it off. He looked between the two of you, before yanking it off; hoping it wouldn’t ruin what was happening.

'Oh Köni~ you're so pretty' you smiled walking up to him, grabbing his face, pulling it down and inspecting it. Rubbing your thumb over the scar on his cheekbone.

He could feel the rush of blood go to both his cheeks, and cock.

'Isn't he pretty Si?' You asked the masked man now behind you.

'Real pretty' Ghost agreed.

You pulled König towards the bed, pushing him to lie down.

'Already hard again Big Boy?' Ghost asked. And König nodded pathetically.

'He has good stamina Si' you said, straddling König.

'God look how deep he's gonna go sweetheart, he's thick too. Have to stretch you out doesn't he' Ghost chuckled darkly.

He wasn't wrong. König stared at how you held his cock to you, seeing how far he would go. He would reach so far into you, the thought making his cock jump.

König moved his hands to your waist and moved you, so you were lying underneath him. He sat up on his knees, turning his head to Simon.

'Are-Are you sure this is all-um, okay?' he asked.

Ghost removed his balaclava, and grabbed König by his chin, locking their lips.

König gasped as Simon slid his tongue into his mouth. Moaning into the kiss.

They broke apart, a string of saliva connecting their lips still.

König could really admire Simon now, his blonde hair and sharp jawline. Something he thought he would only dream about.

König heard you whimper underneath him.

'She's so fucking impatient' Simon whispered. To which you groaned.

Simon helped König to his feet before practically tearing his clothes off. Doing the same to himself. And both men looked at you hungrily.

Fear flooded you but also flooded your hungry need.

König got back on the bed and pulled your pants along with your panties off. As Simon helped you to remove your shirt and bra. König settled between your thighs.

He wet his lips, moving forward to lick into you, but before he could he felt Simon grab his hair. Pulling him just enough so he wouldn't be able to taste you. No matter how hard he tried.

'Beg for it' was all Simon said. Staring directly into König's eyes.

'Please? Pleasepleaseplease, wanna taste her so bad, know she'll taste good, she'll taste so good. Please Simon!' König asked.

Simon shoved König's face into your dripping cunt. Almost immediately you arched your hips. König's large hands gripping them, and pushing them down.

You writhed in his iron grip. The pleasure overwhelming as he sucked your clit, moving his tongue to lap the juices practically pouring out your cunt.

You were close. Your hands pulling harder on König's hair. Moans moving to a higher octave.

Your thighs started shaking, so, so close.

Simon pulled König up from between your thighs. König's whines being louder than yours

'Please! She was so close to cumming! Please just need to feel her come on my tongue. Please!' König whimpered.

God he needed you to come more than you did it sounded.

Simon shoved König's face back into your cunt. König whimpering happily as he lapped up your juices.

König was gripping your hips and thighs like a lifeline. Something to keep him grounded.

'What's this?' Simon asked amusedly. König's eyes shot open and saw Simon standing next to his bedside table. Dildo in hand.

'No need to be embarrassed baby. Something we can have even more fun with' Simon said grabbing the bottle of lube from the bedside table.

König focused back on your clit, sucking on it like a lollipop, and your thighs started shaking again.

König removed his right hand from your left thigh, his finger dipping into your cunt, curling to hit the spot that would have you falling over the edge in no time.

König focused back on your clit, moaning as he felt Simon push a thick finger into his ass.

Simon moved his finger trying to find the spot in König that would make him-

'Mmmph!' König moaned around your clit, causing you to cum all over his tongue and finger. Pulling at König's hair and hips bucking sporadically.

König was addicted to your taste. His tongue lapping at your abused cunt.

You whined, overstimulated as König kept moaning around your puffy clit.

You shuffled out of König's grip finally. and motioned for Simon to remove his finger from König.

Simon did so, and flipped König over, smiling at his red chest and face.

'More' König moaned pathetically.

'Greedy' you laughed.

Simon squeezed a glob of lube onto the toy, pushing it slowly into König's hole. König let out a soft moan at the intrusion before relaxing into the pleasant sensation.

'How close were you? Huh König?' You questioned, letting a glob of saliva fall from your lips and onto König's cock.

You leaned down licking at his tip.

'So, so close!' König moaned.

You smiled, sucking on his tip. Causing him to buck his hips into the sensation.

You pulled off him, Simon pressed a button on the toy, a loud humming sound filling the room.

König moaned loudly, and you covered his mouth.

'König honey, I love your sounds but you don't want to get us caught do you?' you asked sweetly.

König shook his head no. And you started fingering yourself with two fingers, stretching yourself out. Watching as König's eyes rolled in the back of his head.

'Sweetheart, get on his dick' Simon said.

You smiled at him, before looking at König, his eyes almost comically wide.

You moved over and positioned yourself over König's large cock, sinking down slowly, your mouth falling open at the stretch, König moaning as you slid down his cock.

'Si-Simon' you moaned, swallowing before continuing 'fuck him'

You saw König's eyes widen again and he whimpers quietly from the feeling of Simons fat tip nudging at his hole.

You started bouncing on his cock, moaning quietly, and König moaned very loudly at the feeling of Simons cock entering him.

You leaned down quickly, covering König's mouth. Still bouncing on his cock.

'We gotta buy him a gag Si' you smiled

König nodded enthusiastically at the idea.

'He's such a slut' Simon commented.

You continued bouncing on König's cock, grabbing his hand and guiding it to your lower stomach.

'Feel that Köni?~ you're so deep' You moaned.

König’s eyes widened as he felt the bulge that disappeared and reappeared as you slid up and down him, and you grabbed your panties that were discarded to the bed and shoved them into König's open mouth.

His eyes opened widely before rolling to the back of his head, the taste of you invading his mouth, only adding to the mind blowing pleasure he was feeling.

'Fuck I'm gonna cum!' you moaned, reaching your fingers down to your clit, rubbing messy circles.

'Me too lovie' Simon groaned, fucking into König relentlessly.

König whined around your panties as Simon’s cock pounded directly into his prostate, sending shockwaves of pleasure up his spine and adding to the coil that was rapidly tightening in his abdomen

König still couldn't believe this was happening. Watching your tits bouncing in front of his face, his eyes couldn't stop glancing down to the bulge that continuously appeared.

'I think Köni has a size kink Si' you sighed softly

König heard Simon chuckle, his hips somehow pounding harder into him.

'Gonna cum!' König moaned, although muffled.

'Come for us Big Boy' Simon moaned, and König was gone.

His vision went white, he doesn't think he has ever come this hard in his life. And then he felt you clenching around him, your juices covering his cock, he also felt Simon shoot his cum inside of him.

He doesn't know if he came again or if his last one never ended. He swears he passed out.

He actually passed out.

He woke up to feeling a cold sensation on his dick, he whined but heard your muffled voice tell him that you were just cleaning him up.

He relaxed soon after, but not for long because he felt a water bottle be pushed against his lips.

König's tired eyes opened and saw Simon mouthing something to him, no he was saying something.

'come on, you gotta drink König' he said.

König gulped down the water, and pushed it away.

He felt somebody's warm body next to him but he couldn't care less who it was, he wrapped himself around them and judging by the size, it was Simon.

He soon felt your body on the other side of him and he didn't know what to do, did he hug Simon? Did he hug you? Should he have just left? It was his room though.

'You guys don't have to stay, I know this was probably a one time thing' König whispered.

'We're not going anywhere Köni, and this is totally not a one time thing'

'definitely not' Simon agreed.

König felt you pull his shoulder and he let go of Simon.

He felt you hug his side as Simon hugged the other, the sounds of soft snores quickly filling the space.

HI BOZOS!!!!!!!!

Longest fic in a while goodness me

I did this in one sitting jesus.

Anyway hope ya'll liked it, lmk if you did by liking, commenting, reblogging, or maybe even following idk.

oh also that little title i did, i thought it was pretty funny

I think i'm gonna start writing more COD stuff just for funsies

Ok it's 3:19am and im tired

BYE BOZOS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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