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nichuuu · 1 year

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Beats Me - 1: Squeaker

Shin Ryujin

Tags: Smut, Subby Ryujin, Teasing, Foreplay, Really shitty story

Words: 5k+

You weren’t afraid to admit that you’ve never felt so lost in all your life.

The university campus was sprawling as it was, but in the midst of trying to find the recording studio, you’ve somehow found that this place seemed to be bigger than it was. The halls seemed to constantly shift themselves, twisting and warping the layout of the campus as you struggled to locate that damn Arts block.

After about 20 minutes of sheepishly asking for directions, craning your head to look at signs that always seemed to be pointing in the wrong way and lots of cussing, you finally managed to locate the studio—15 minutes later than you were supposed to reach—and frantically knocked on the door. The muffled music coming from inside stopped.

The heavy looking oak door swung open.

“The fuck do you want?” The girl at the door crudely asked.

“H-Hi… I’m uh… I’m here to try out for the band?” You meekly replied.

She scanned you up and down.

“You’re the squeaker drummer?” She questioned. You didn’t exactly know what the word squeaker meant, but you nodded nonetheless.

“Y-Yeah…” You said. She checked her watch.

“You’re fifteen minutes late,” she remarked.

“S-Sorry… Got lost…” You apologised. She shot you a glare.

“Getting lost isn’t an excuse, you should’ve—”

“God dammit Yeji! Just let the damn boy inside!” A voice came from within. The lady in front of you—who you assumed was Yeji—shut her mouth, her lips forming a thin line.

You were scared of her already.

“Get in and get your ass on the drum kit,” the scary woman barked, stepping aside to let you in.

You’ve never run into a room so quickly in your life.

You stepped in, quickly noting that the entire room was full of girls. They all stared at you, and you gave a shy bow before haul assing towards the vacant drum set and setting your bag down. You contemplated on adjusting the height of your seat, but the fact that you could still feel that lady glaring at you made you think otherwise.

You unzipped your bag and pulled out your drumsticks.

“Do you have an iPad or anything we can use to give you your charts?” The scary lady asked, shutting the door.

“Uh… No,” You replied. She sighed and shook her head.

“Hopeless” She muttered.

Not the best first impression. You thought to yourself.

“Yeji, Don’t you feel like you’re scaring him a little?” The woman behind the microphone voiced her opinion.

“I would treat him better if he was on time,” Yeji hissed.

“You and your ‘Professionalism’,” The lady behind the microphone sighed. She turned to you.

“Hello! Sorry for the… Harsh welcome,” She said. “What’s your name?”

“O-Oh uh… M-Myeong-seok,” you stammered.

“Nice to meet you Myeong-seok,” She smiled. “Just do your best today, we’ll see how you fair.”

You nodded and picked up your sticks. The lady behind the microphone turned back to the front.

“It’s Not Living If It’s Not With You, from the top!” She announced.

Having played that song before, you found yourself with new found confidence as you sat up straight in your stool.

You said a silent prayer before the guitar riff came, launching you into the first song.

The session went better than expected. Even though you felt like a toddler lost in a supermarket half the time, you managed to grasp a basic beat through most of the songs they played. They did some Rock, some pop, did some jazz and a few other funky genres you weren’t too familiar with, but you never stopped to ask questions, fearing another tongue lashing from Yeji.

To your delight, you managed to secure your spot as their new drummer. The news came like a spark of joy, but the spark was instantly extinguished by Yeji, who informed you that the band was to do a gig at a nearby bar in a week's time. You had exactly one week to get your shit together, learn the pieces and memorise your charts.

“No stress,” The Bassist unhelpfully added. She looked scary too.

You’d gotten a grasp of their names. Guitarist 1 was a girl they called “Kkura”, the pianist’s name was Ji-min, or “Karina” as they called her at times. Guitarist 2 was scary lady Yeji, the Bassist Ryujin and the vocalist Eunbi. You prayed you got their names right.

The band practised on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, each practice starting at 4pm sharp. You took note of that, noting from your earlier interaction with Yeji that she despised tardiness.

“Be punctual or I’ll have your head on a pike,” Yeji snarled before leaving the room with her guitar strapped to her back.

“Don’t mind her, she’s a little moody today,” Eunbi assured you. You could only nod, the fear leaving your body as soon as Yeji walked out the door. Eunbi proceeded to toss you a set of keys.

“Keys to the studio, everyone gets one set.” She explained. “Come in whenever you want to practise. Just don’t break anything in here or the school will have us knee deep in debt.”

You stared at the keys in your hand, processing the fact that you were now a part of a legitimate… Well… Somewhat legitimate band.

“See you this Friday Myeong-seok,” Eunbi waved.

“S-See you!” You waved back. She left the room together with Ji-min, leaving you alone with Ryujin who was still busy winding up her wire. You decided to leave her to it, pocketing the keys to the studio and slipping your sticks back into your bag. Being as silent as you could, you shouldered your backpack and got up to leave.

“Yo squeaker.”

She was staring right at you. You could feel it.

As mentioned before, she struck you as a scary person, with her bob cut and leather jacket giving you the vibe of an 80s gang member. She looked ike the type of girl who would beat you up for staring for too long. You slowly turned to face the bassist, and you were pleasantly surprised to find a smile on her face.

“Good stuff today… You were pretty sick on the kit,” She complimented.

“O-Oh… T-Thanks?” You replied, failing to hide the fear in your voice.

“Chill man, I won’t eat you,” She assured you, sensing your tension. “Do I really look that scary? Is it the jacket?”

You hesitated before nodding a little. She smirked and shrugged it off her shoulders.

“I wear it cause I’m cold. But if it makes you afraid of me, I’ll take it off,” She mused, the black leather slipping off her shoulders to reveal the crop top beneath it. “Name’s Ryujin by the way.”

“I uh… I kinda know….” You told her nervously. She raised her eyebrows.

“You are one sharp feller,” She remarked.

“Well… I… I just… Listen,” You explained. The short-haired girl scoffed.

“Don’t we all?”

You managed a chuckle, finding yourself easing up a little.

Maybe she wasn’t so scary…

“You free tomorrow Squeaker?” She asked, zipping the bag containing her bass guitar shut.

“W-Why?” You couldn’t help but inquire.

“I wanna practise with you. Bassists and Drummers go hand in hand, I need your cues and your beat to help me,” She explained, slinging her bass over her shoulder. “Think you can come in at around 2:30pm?”

You quickly ran through tomorrow's schedule in your head. Lectures ended by 2pm tomorrow, leaving you ample time to get to the studio.

“S-Sure… I can make it,” You agreed. Ryujin flashed you a smile.

“Coolsies. See you tomorrow then,” she said, giving you finger guns. You weren’t quite sure what to do, so you replied with a nervous thumbs up. She laughed and punched your shoulder lightly.

“Ease up bucko, we don’t bite,” She winked. “Lock up, for me okay Squeaker?”

You nodded. Ryujin waved before swaggering out of the room, helping you switch off the lights on the way out.

She seems chill. You thought to yourself, fishing the keys out of your pocket. You exited the room and locked the door, marking the end of your day as you headed off towards the exit. The sun had begun to set on the campus by the time you walked out of the gates.

“2:30pm… 2:30pm…” You muttered to yourself over and over as you set off. You vowed not to be late.

The next day rolled around. You sat through lectures as usual, listening to your Prof drone on and on about something related to ethics, or maybe it was morals…

Hell, it was so convoluted you didn’t know anymore.

As soon as 2pm struck, you were up and out of your seat, heading towards the exit. The beauty of not having a good professor was the fact that they couldn’t care less about when you left their lectures.

You made your way to the recording studio with much less difficulty this time. Unlocking the door, you stepped in and turned on the lights and air conditioning, the practice space whirring to life as you shut the door—which was as heavy as it looked—behind you. You beelined it for the kit and fished your sticks out of your bag. You got out your tuning key, which you brought today since the kit sounded like shit the day before, and got to work on adjusting the kit. Yes… You have to tune drum sets too, you know?

When you finished, there was still 20 minutes till Ryujin was due to arrive, so you settled on getting some practice in. Luckily for you, you happened to bring your charts that you painstakingly printed last night (that hole in your wallet will never be patched) and set the folder containing the sheets down on the score stand.

You quickly got to work, doing your thing on the kit as you waited patiently for Ryujin to arrive. She came in 10 minutes later than she should have, something that Yeji would’ve definitely killed her over, but thank god she wasn’t here.

“My bad Squeaker. Prof decided to go on a tangent about his divorce,” She apologised, setting her Bass Guitar down on the couch and unzipping the bag containing it.

“And how are we today?” She asked, pulling her instrument out its bag.

“Good… I guess,” You replied.

“Splendid,” She answered in English with a British accent. You chuckled at the randomness of the girl.

You waited patiently for her to hook her instrument up, fiddling with your drumsticks as she slug her Bass over her shoulder and plucked a string, a deep note filtering out of the amp behind her.

“That is sexy,” She mused, nodding her head in approval. “Alright Squeaker, let’s get to work.”

She made herself comfortable on the couch, kicking the excess wire off her foot before signaling that she was ready to begin.

The session went as you expected, the two of you going through each piece and taking notes on your respective scores. At some point, Ryujin stopped to get a sandwich from downstairs, but she was kind enough to get you an iced Americano.

“This is on me,” She said, tossing you the bottle that contained your beverage. You set your sticks down just in time to catch the bottle before it could hit you square in the face. Ryujin cackled at her bad throw before getting back to her instrument.

You went on afterwards, rejuvenated by the coffee bought by Ryujin as the two of you continued with practice. As goofy as she could be, Ryujin was surprisingly skilled with her instrument, hitting catchy fills and a few high-skill licks that left you wide eyed. You got the chance to mess around for a bit, pulling some shenanigans of your own on the kit that got nods of approval from your practice buddy.

“Good shit today,” She sighed with satisfaction as the two of you packed up for the day. It was somehow already late in the evening.

You hummed in agreement, neatly getting your scores back in order and getting them back inside your bag.

“Let’s get dinner, my treat,” Ryujin suggested.

“It’s okay. I don’t wanna waste your money,” you politely declined.

“Wasn’t an offer. We’re getting dinner Squeaker,” She grinned. She never seemed to run out of surprises…

You locked the room up and set off with Ryujin, settling on a tonkatsu place near campus. She ordered a round of alcohol for the two of you.

“So… How long have you been drumming for Squeaker?” Ryujin asked, sipping her glass of beer.

“For a few years now… Started when I was eight,” You answered. “Took some classes for a while then stopped because of money issues, but I joined Concert Band in middle school and highschool. They had kits there so I just practised.”

Ryujin raised her eyebrows, nodding in approval. You decided to try your hand at carrying a conversation, something you were never really good at.

“W-What about you? H-How long have you been playing Bass?” You asked. Ryujin took another sip of beer.

“Me? Not too long… Started a few years back after graduating from College. Wanted to do something with my life, you know?” She replied, wiping the foam off her mouth.

You nodded thoughtfully, taking a sip of your beer. You understood what she meant.

“Besides, playing Bass was a good substitute for sleeping with guys,” She added out of nowhere. The TMI statement almost made you choke on your beer.

“W-What?” You coughed, flabbergasted. Ryujin shrugged.

“I was fresh out of high school and lonely as fuck okay?” She defended herself. “I slept with a couple of guys… And maybe one or two girls… But I needed something to do didn’t I?”

You didn’t know how to respond, and you preferred to keep it that way.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” She interrogated you. “It wasn’t even my fault half the time! I just had a few drinks with the guy, and the next thing you know it I’m being railed on my hands and knees. I don’t even know how I got there, honest.”

No words could describe how you felt about the sharp turn this conversation had taken.

“Come on Squeaker, stop giving me that look,” She sighed, picking up her beer cup and swirling the liquid gently. “For all you know, what I described might just happen tonight…”

“MOVING ON!” You exclaimed, almost in a scream. Your attempt to change the subject of the conversation earned you a few nasty glares from members of the public, but you’d rather be shamed than talking about sex with a girl you just met yesterday. You had done the deed once with your ex, but you didn’t particularly derive any sort of pleasure from speaking about the subject.

Ryujin giggled to herself and sat back in her seat.

“Alright alright… You’re uncomfortable, I get it,” Ryujin teased in a sing-song voice. The blush on your face was un-concealable as you kept your eyes glued to the beer in front of you.

“How did you find out about us Squeaker?” Ryujin asked, deciding to drive the conversation back towards music. You inwardly heaved a sigh of relief, finding the courage to look Ryujin in the eye again.

“W-Well uh… Someone handed me a flyer for your band during orientation and—”

“Hold the fucking phone,” Ryujin stopped you. “Orientation? You’re a freshie?”

“U-Uh… Yea… Military Service,” You explained.

“God damn! That means you’re older than me!” She mused.

“W-What? H-How does this affect anything?” You inquired.

She raised an eyebrow.

“Who said anything about affecting shit?” She asked. “I’m just making an observation Squeaker.”

Your hopes of her ceasing to call you “Squeaker” were dashed. You’d have to live with the nickname from now on.

“Sorry for interrupting, you were talking about flyers?” Ryujin urged you to continue.

“R-Right,” You continued, getting back on track from where you left off. “I saw the flyer, saw that you guys needed a drummer, so I contacted… Eunbi I think… Who’s phone number was on the flyer?”

“Eunbi’s” Ryujin confirmed.

“Right, yea… So… That’s how I got the try out I guess…” You said. Ryujin looked unimpressed.

“Wow… That was far from what I expected,” She told you flatly. “I was thinking that you had some moral conflict or something, but no. You just saw the flyer and decided to go for it?”

“U-Uh… Yea…” You answered, unsure how you’d disappointed her.

“Ew, boring,” She said rather bluntly. “What took you so long to come in then? We’re in the middle of the first semester.”

“Uh… Eunbi… Eunbi didn’t reply to me till last week…” You explained.

“That’s pretty fucking hilarious,” Ryujin sniggered. You shrugged.

“It is what it is,” You said frankly.

At that juncture, the waiter came with your food. Two plates of freshly fried Tonkatsu, paired with a bowl of steamed rice, was laid on the table.

“Oh damn… This looks good,” Ryujin remarked, a hint of glee in her voice. You agreed with her, but you just didn’t vocalise the opinion. Ryujin handed you a set of cutlery from the drawer on her end.

“Dig in Squeaker,” She told you as you took the cutlery from her. You didn’t need to be told twice.

The food was as delicious as it looked, and it went perfectly with the icy beer that you sipped intermittently.

The breaded cutlet disappeared from both your plates almost as quickly as it came. The speed at which you both wolfed down that meal was a little worrying for you, but the satisfaction derived from that meal somehow seemed to neutralise all that. Satisfied with the food, Ryujin called for the bill.

“Hey… Let me pay for a little bit of it at least,” You offered.

“Nope, my treat,” She declined.

True to her word, Ryujin made the waiter stay far away from you as she handed over her card. As much as your morals gnawed at your conscience to pay Ryujin for the cost of your meal, a small voice in your head knew that she’d just reject it.

The bill came back, and the waiter returned Ryujin her credit card. With a smile, she thanked the staff and kept her card.

“Thanks Ryujin,” You said. She waved it off.

“No worries Squeaker,” She grinned, standing up from her seat. “If you don’t mind, could you help me with my Bass? Might need you to carry it home for me.”

You quickly got up and helped her carry her Bass guitar. It was the least you could do to repay her for her generosity.

“Thanks Squeaker. My apartment isn't too far from here, just help me carry it till we get there,” She said, gathering her things.

“Damn… You have an apartment?” You asked.

“Parents wanted me out of the house so badly that they bought me one,” She explained, a proud smirk on her face.

“W-What? Why?”

She looked you in the eye.

“I brought home too many boys for their liking,” She simply said, adding a wink at the end of her sentence. “Come on, Squeaker! Help me carry this damn guitar back so you can get home before midnight!”

You travelled a few streets down, Ryujin’s Bass slung over your shoulder as you followed her back to her apartment complex. The weight of the guitar made you understand the pain of actually needing to bring your own instrument from home.

You made it back to her apartment. You knew her remark of getting you home by midnight was a lie when she pulled you in together with her.

“You can leave your shoes here,” She instructed, shutting her apartment door behind her.

“I really don’t think I should be here…” You began.

“Oh for fucks sake Squeaker. Stop being so nervous about everything!” She teased.

You could only sigh and slide off your sneakers. Ryujin’s apartment was small but cosy, and surprisingly neat as well. She had all sorts of vintage posters decorating her walls, a couple of fairy lights adorning the window sill and a few photos on her shelves and cabinets. You spotted an amp in the corner of the room, and you figured that you should place the Bass Guitar down.

“What can I fix you up with? Booze? Juice? Tea?” Ryujin asked, walking over to her fridge and opening it up. You headed over to the amp to set down her guitar.

“Tea sounds nice,” You said.

“Booze it is!” Ryujin called back.

“I said—Ah never mind…” You sighed, a gut feeling telling you that there was no point in arguing.

After placing down her Bass, she invited you to have a seat on her couch. She had a few cans of beer in her arms that she set down on the coffee table.

She cracked open two cans, handing one to you and taking one for herself before relaxing on her couch. You sat there rigidly, both hands on the cold can.

“Why are you so tense?” Ryujin questioned. “Am I making you nervous?”

“N-No… I’m just… Jittery when it comes to new things and new people… It’s in my blood,” You explained. She smirked.

“That’s why we have alcohol dude,” She reasoned, tapping the beer can in your hand. “Drink up, loosen up!”

She clinked cans with you and guzzled down the entire can, shooting you a look that pressure you to do the same. You hesitantly raised the lip of the can to your mouth and tipped it back. The cold, icy and bitter beverage flowed into your mouth, burning your throat on its way down.

“There you go, that’s the spirit!” Ryujin encouraged you as you gulped down what was left of the first can. Your outings with your platoon had built up your alcohol tolerance, but you still weren’t exactly the best when it came to alcohol.

“Good job. Now have another can,” Ryujin said, cracking open two more cans and handing one to you.

“I don’t think I should—”

“Just fucking fucking drink it.”

The second can turned into a third, and the third can into a fourth. By the fifth can, you were starting to get a little woozy, and you knew that you should stop. Ryujin however, seemed to be very against that.

The sixth can went down easily, and the seventh even easier.

You didn’t know how it happened, but you somehow found yourself stripped down to your undies in Ryujin’s bedroom, furiously making out with her. Her tongue explored the insides of your mouth hungrily, the taste of beer still in her mouth. This entire day had been a trap, but you just didn’t know it.

Her mouth left yours, a thin strand of saliva connecting the two of you as she gazed into your eyes. A smirk tugged up the corner of her lip as she slowly got down on her knees. Her sports bra supporting her bust gave you an excellent view of her plunging cleavage as she tugged down your boxers. Your cock sprung out from its restraints, twitching out in the open as Ryujin grasped a hold of it, slender fingers wrapping around your length as she pumped your cock. She licked her lips in delight.

She wasted no time in wrapping her lips around your cock and taking you straight into the depths of her mouth. The eye contact she maintained with you almost drove you over the edge as she rocked back and forth, building a steady pace as she slurped on your dick. Her hands supported themselves on your thighs as she drove you deeper and deeper, the head of your cock poking the entrance to her throat. You couldn’t bear to keep watching her bob up and down your cock for too long, and you forced yourself to look up. The moans leaving your mouth kept coming in a steady stream, your hands finding themselves entangled in locks of Ryujin’s hair as the woman you just met yesterday devoured your shaft. Her tongue busied itself, swirling around your sensitive head and delivering occasional flicks to the underside of your member. She was clearly experienced in giving head.

“Jesus Ryujin…” You managed to moan through the haze of your tipsiness and pleasure. Ryujin lets your cock pop out of her mouth, stroking your shaft—now slick with her saliva—with a corkscrew motion.

“My mouth is good… But playing Bass over the years has made my hands even better,” She giggles. Her fingers grip your throbbing shaft tighter, her palm pressing into the underside as she forces you to watch her stroke you. She shifts the pressure to her pointer finger and thumb, squeezing the tip of your sensitive head. Your head whips back, your mouth opening wide to let out a soft sigh.

“That’s it squeaker… Moan for me…” Ryujin encouraged, increasing the intensity of her hand’s assault on your penis. “Tell me how good my hand feels…”

“Fuck… It’s so damn good,” You hiss through your teeth. That smirk crosses her face again.

“That’s what I thought…” She whispers. “But enough of this foreplay… I want this inside me.”

She lets go of your cock, a move that was both disappointing yet somehow relieving to you as she gets up on her feet. Ryujin makes quick work of her sports bra, tossing it into the growing pile of clothes before quickly pulling down her panties and kicking them away. You now knew what was hiding below that leather jacket��

It was safe to say that Ryujin could easily make a man throb just by looking at her body. Her curves were in all the right places, her snatched waist accentuating her figure and that round, plump ass looking ever so delectable. Your staring doesn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you gonna keep fucking me with your eyes? Or are you gonna get over here and fuck me for real?” She asked. You didn’t need a second invitation to walk over and grip her waist firmly. Your cock pressed against her defined abs, the skin in contact with your slick dick glistening as traces of her own saliva are left on her. She gripped you by your cock and pulled you over to the bed, where she laid down on her back and spread her legs wide. The pink flesh of her glistening pussy was a sight to behold, her folds slick with her fluids and the insides of her thighs flushed with arousal.

“You can eat me out another day,” She hissed, reading your thoughts. “Just put your cock in me and fuck me like an animal.”

While the former statement made you slightly disappointed, the latter was too appealing to be turned down.

You were above Ryujin in a matter of seconds. Her hand held onto the base of your shaft, lining your head up with her entrance. Giving you the slightest of nods, you popped your hips and buried yourself inside her tight body, entering the Bassist for the first time.

A sharp gasp left her lips, her legs wrapping around your waist. Her heels pushed you deeper into her tight little cunt, her slick warm walls gripping you firmly as she whispered into your ear.

“Fuck me.”

You weren’t sure where you found the strength in you, maybe it was the alcohol messing with you. You pounded Ryujin mercilessly, her body rocking violently with each thrust as her cute tits jiggled deliciously. The cries that left her mouth mixed well together with the background of skin slapping against skin. The squelch that came from your cock entering her over and over again was one of pure lewdness, akin to music in your ears.

You found a steady pace, fucking Ryujin with long hard strokes. Her eyes widened with each entrance, a sigh and the occasional cuss leaving her mouth every time you drove yourself into her wet little pussy relentlessly. Ryujin was a beautiful mess beneath you, and she also seemed to be very vocal when she wasn’t mewling into your shoulder.

“Oh fuck fuck fuck… That’s it… Squeaker… Fuck my little pussy…”

Her body bounced deliciously, her eyes rolling up into the back of her head as her moans began increasing in intensity and volume. Her bed creaked in protest, rattling and shaking under the force of your thrusts. Ryujin dug her nails into your back, an outlet to release the pleasure that crashed into her body in rapid waves.

As much as you wanted to fuck Ryujin like this forever, her skillful foreplay mere minutes ago didn’t allow you to last too long inside the bliss that was Ryujin’s pussy.

“Ryujin… I’m… I’m gonna cum,” You grunted. She managed a smirk that quickly twisted into a lewd expression as he slammed back into her.

“On me… Cum… On me…” She rasped.

Your pace quickened, each breath you took becoming shallower and shallower as you pumped yourself furiously into Ryujin’s tight body. The pressure continued to build at the base of your cock, slowly working its way up from your tingling balls to the tip of your cock. A few thrusts later, you finally couldn’t take it and withdrew yourself out of Ryujin’s cunt. You furiously stroke your shaft with your right hand, and with one, two, three pumps, you explode onto Ryujin’s hot body. Her abs become the canvas for your load, hot bursts of semen painting her abdomen in ropes of white as your orgasm takes you. Your hand never stops stroking your cock, pushing out rope after rope of your seed as you empty yourself onto Ryujin. She sighs softly with each shot onto her, closing her eyes to savour the feel of your warm cum splattering her body.

It takes you a while to recover from your high, but Ryujin was patient enough to wait for you, idly playing with the cum on her tummy as she watched you with a smirk.

“Was… I that good?” She giggled. You managed a nod.

“Amazing…” You breathe. She sits up on the bed.

“Then you’re in for round two of this amazing experience.”

She got up and bent herself over her desk.

Your still hard shaft throbbed at the sight of her round, plump ass protruded out and ready to be taken.

“I want you to make me cum like this… And don’t you dare stop till I’m a screaming mess,” She hissed aggressively.

Rejuvenated by her lewd words, you get up and take your position behind her. With an open palm, you deliver a slap to her right ass cheek, enjoying the sight of the plump flesh rippling from the impact. Ryujin clicks her tongue in annoyance.

“Quit playing with my ass and rail me Squeaker,” She growls.

“Impatient are we?” You ask. She shoots you a glare.

“When did you start talking so much?” She asked.

“When did you start being such a slut?” You fired back.

“I’m not a slut,” She argued.

“Then what are you?” You questioned. That seemed to make Ryujin think for a bit.

You decided to use that window to surprise her.

“I’m a—FUCK!” She screamed, her snarky response cut off by you penetrating her once more. She somehow felt even tighter in this position.

“Got you,” You grinned, your cock throbbing inside her wet, slick heat. She glares at you and opens her mouth to try and say something, but her words turn into a moan when you slam back into her, the delicious flesh of her ass rippling as the base of your crotch makes contact with her juicy cheeks.

“You have a great ass Ryujin,” You compliment her.

“T-Thank you…” She manages. “Now shut up and fuck me.”

“As you wish,” You reply.

Reaching forward, you grasp a palmful of her tits and give it a squeeze. She supports herself against her desk as you begin to rock her body once more, drilling yourself deeper and deeper into her pussy. Her moans fill the room, a delicious arc of her back forming as she tilts her head back to look you in the eyes.

“Pull… My hair…”

Happy to follow through with her request, you make a makeshift ponytail with a handful of her dark hair and yank back. She lets out a sharp gasp, her walls tightening as you clench your fist tighter around the lock of hair.

“Yes yes yes yes…” She pants, eyes half lidded with pleasure as she struggles to grip the desk properly. Her walls were tightening around you by the second.

You pull back harder on her hair, pulling her upright. You wrap one arm in front of her, pulling her towards you. Her back flushes against your chest, her eyelids snapping open as she makes eye contact with you.

“I’m cumming… Oh god I’m fucking cumming…” She gasps, gripping your forearms in a vice grip.

She continues to let unfiltered gasps leave her throat before she finally reaches her high. Like the beautiful mess she already was, she screams at the top of her lungs, her insides clenching onto your cock as she twitches in your arms. You fuck her relentlessly through her orgasm, chasing your own high as your sensitive member feel every pulse, every twitch of her freshly fucked pussy, your cock spearing her repeatedly. You fuck her twitching body like there was no tommorow, hips thrusting furiously till you hit your second orgasm for the night.

Pulling your dick out just in time, resting it on her plump ass and stroking yourself to completion. Her butt glistens with your cum, some of the slimy, slick fluid sliding off the curve of her round bottom and dripping onto the floor. Your shaft glistens with your mixed juices.

You both struggle to catch your breaths, panting against each other as you rest your head on Ryujin’s shoulder.

“Tell… Tell no one about this… Got it?” Ryujin manages to pant after some time. You nod weakly against her, fully drained this time. She slips out of your arms and wraps a hand around your waist.

“Come on… Squeaker… Looks like you’ll be crashing with me tonight…”

You didn’t have any energy to argue against her, so you join her in crashing into her mattress and settling in for the night. As sleep took over your body, you felt Ryujin cuddling up against you.

“We… We’ll talk about this tomorrow…” She whispers. “Goodnight Squeaker.”

You managed a one-worded reply.

“Night…”

Your eyelids flutter shut as you fall into the welcome arms of rest.

_________________________________________

What is popping. I’m not dead guys, I just don’t use tumblr as much (I swear I’ll try and be a little more active). Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this one and I apologise if it’s bad, I read through it once and decided: Eh... Fuck it, let’s post. Contemplating on making this a series if you guys like it enough. I suck at smut so I’m not too sure if this even has the quality to be a series but eh... I’ll leave it to democracy to decide if this is worthy enough. You guys let me know if you want to see this turn into a series.

Have a nice day :))

Also, Legend for some of the terms I used:

Squeaker: Newbie. I stole it from Whiplash lol.

Charts: Slang for sheet music. Also referred to as “Scores”

Snare: The goofy part of the drum set that gives you the funny “Kat” sound. I think google will explain it better.

Tuning Key: Key that tunes. (Wow!!!)

Score stand: The thing that holds your sheet music

#kpop #itzy #smut #ryujin #mature

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 3 months

Note

AITA for trying to block evade?

This happened several years ago, so I'll put the ages that we were at the time.

I [17F at the time], had an extremely close friend [17F] of 3+ years, and I still haven't found any kind of friendship that came close to the level of trust / openness that was there. So some of this backstory ranges from 14yrs to 17yrs.

My home was abusive, and she and her mom helped me figure out what was rational vs irrational, normal vs not normal, and pointing out local resources to get help - which was absolutely amazing and I could not thank them enough.

She invited me to her house pretty regularly, a couple times a week. We'd have hours of skype calls. She got me roped into Undertale & the fandom. Well, not that we really interacted with the fandom at large. We only publically posted some of the art and barely got noticed haha. Between the two of us, we had something like 26 AUs and had a lot of rp with multiverse shenanigans - like over 1200+ pages of google docs rp, because that's where we did like 90% of it. After we hit like 100-200 pages, we'd make a new doc so it wouldn't take so long to load. And we had like, at least like 9 docs I think. I was mostly in it for her, because it was really fun to just make up stories together. I could've done it with any fandom she threw at me, undertale is just the one that was popular at the time.

At one point, I think when we were around 16, I asked her if she wanted to start dating. She said something along the lines of maybe in the future, but not right now - she wanted to focus on school. Even though she declined at the time, she did say she appreciated me asking and that it meant a lot to her. And there were 0 hard feelings about the answer, we just kept on going the way we were going.

She got hit with a really bad level of depression, and stopped coming to school. After 2-3 days, I started calling her every day around lunch time just to check in on her and see how she was doing. See if there was anything I could do to help - bring some snacks, catch her up on classwork for the couple classes we shared, stuff like that. This was for couple months. More than just a mental health day, and the only reason she gave was Depression.

After a week or two of the daily calls, there was probably an aspect of toxic positivity on my end. Like "You gotta Do Something to avoid being trapped in your misery, even if it's just baby steps like sitting outside on the porch or going on a walk down the block" Not maliciously, but more out of not knowing how to handle a situation like this & genuinely wanting to help her because of all the help she's offered me in the past & fueled a little bit by fear because Depresssion is the excuse that my abusive parents used to justify their shitty behavior & neglect. Not because I was afraid of what she'd do to me, but more what she'd do to herself. That's one of the only things I could think where I went wrong, which I completely acknowledge and understand now.

She was still inviting me to her house, and we were still doing our normal thing there. Drawing and writing stories together.

After 4-5 weeks [? estimate, time is an illusion] of her not showing up to school, I can't remember if I asked if it was helpful or if she suggested that I stop calling every day. Calling every day was making her feel worse.

I did end up calling the next day or two at lunch - crossing the boundary was not my intent. We had planned to hang out on the weekend again, lunch is just when I remembered & had time to call to ask if she still wanted to hang out or if she wanted some space. I think she said yes to hanging out, didn't mention anything about crossing the boundary. Same with the next day - there was something I needed to ask clarification on, it wasn't a check in, nothing was mentioned of the boundary. I can't remember what it was now. This is another one of the places where I think I went wrong, which I acknowledge & understand.

I did stop the check ins like requested though. After those two off days, I did stop calling her every day at lunch.

She finished out the school year having shown up to class maybe 3ish times, I think.

Again, we were still hanging out regularly. There was no indication that I was doing anything wrong, there was no indication that anything I was doing was wrong. She was still the one inviting me to hang out at least half the time.

There were some problems that I was noticing that I just wanted to have a casual chat about and figure out, but she kept pushing it off as a "I don't have the energy right now, we can talk about it later" and we'd go back to the fun things. I don't really remember what those problems were.

In the summer, I went to a different state to visit my older sister that I hadn't seen in years. I talked to her about it, I was excited for it. We were still chatting regularly during my trip over skype or discord.

And then, during my trip that I was so excited about, she drops this bombshell. She sends me several massive messages detailing out a bullet point list of everything I've done wrong, that she's explicitly breaking off the friendship, and blocks me. 95% of things on that list either flat weren't true, or gross misunderstandings of what happened.

It was genuinely horrible things too.

For example, one of the things on the list was "Suicide baiting" or "Suicide guilt tripping" or something along those lines, which had happened several months if not a year before this. -I've only ever communicated feeling acutely suicidal to her 1 time. -Long before that, she made me promise that if I ever felt suicidal that I was supposed to immediately talk to her about it, for her own peace of mind so she wouldn't worry about me. -I reached a point of feeling acutely suicidal due to abuse at home & general existential dread, that happened to be during a time we had an issue.

I purposefully waited until after the issue was resolved, like 2 weeks, before telling her. I did that specifically so it would not be taken as a guilt trip or a form of coercion while still holding as true as I could to my promise. She made me promise to tell her, it was something very important to her. I made very clear to say "this is something I experienced a couple weeks ago due to unrelated things, it is resolved now, I got help through xyz means and genuinely feel better. You made me promise to tell you so I am telling you, I didn't want to say anything while we were having a problem for xyz reason." I just wanted to talk, and clear up the misunderstandings. I wanted to have a good conversation about figuring out where the communication went wrong, try and figure out how she came to these conclusions, and how that differs from my point of view. Do something to work it out, and just talk about it, and try and salvage this 3+ year friendship.

After I realized I was blocked, I was going through so so many emotions all at once. The whiplash of going from 5 to 100, Upset that I wasn't given any sort of chance to explain, the 5 stages of grief, being thrown away like the gum off your shoe, worrying about her and if this was the stage of isolation for depression, holding out the hope that we could still just talk and work things out, angry that she kept pushing off and refusing to have any sort of serious talk before this, doubting if anything she had said on 'normal vs not normal' - particularly communication styles, thoughts that maybe she was abusive and manipulative all along, maybe I was continuing the cycle of abuse, trauma flashbacks, anxieties that I had since squashed as 'irrational', fear that this was a sign that she was about to fucking kill herself and maybe the whole list was a lie so I wouldn't try and reach out and stop her, doubting my own reality and maybe the entire list she sent me was true and she was justified in her actions.

Simultaneously trying to process intense feelings and realities if it was true and I'm really secretly a horrible monster, if it wasn't true and she was about to die, and old traumas getting dug out of the grave.

God I was such an emotional wreck and did not know how to process or understand anything that was happening.

This is where the AITA comes in -

I was pushing through back to back panic attacks trying to contact her and figure out what was going on. I didn't want her to die, if that's what was happening. I didn't want to be discarded and thrown away like a piece of trash, if that's what was happening. I didn't want to have 0 chance of learning & growing as a person even if this friendship wasn't salvageable due to my monstrous nature, if that's what was happening.

So I block evaded like fckn crazy. Gmail, pet game sites, discord, skype, deviantart, whatever online platform that we shared that had messaging enabled. I called her phone several times. On the 3-4th call, her mom picked up and told me that none of the above was true. That she wasn't about to die, that I wasn't being thrown away like trash, and that I wasn't a monster. She didn't agree with her daughters actions and thought it unfair to me, but ultimately it was my friend's choice. All simultaneously which just did not compute.

If the list she sent me was true, I was a shitty horrible person. If it wasn't, and she isn't about to die, then not be able to just have a calm sit-down conversation at some point about it and clear it up - if I wasn't worth even attempting to make that effort then I was being thrown away like trash. I kept trying for days afterwards to talk to her - just, anything at all. Nothing got through, she never responded to anything.

And... that was that.

I didn't have a chance to talk to her again. I didn't have a chance to clear up misunderstandings, or understand what I did actually wrong and where, or any sort of closure.

Sometimes if I'm remembering it and feeling paranoid, I'll check and see if she's alive by looking at her online profiles for any activity. Like, maybe once a year tops now. According to the petgame sites, she's still alive at least. I'm assuming she got new social media. Literally it's just a "is she alive, do I have to worry about causing her suicide" check, I don't stalk or look into anything further than that.

Anyway, AITA for how extensively & desperately I was block evading?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

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llamagoddessofficial · 1 year

Note

biggest of brain energy re warm bread and beloved skeletons - so.... might i offer you .................. patisserie/baker au??

the boys are all rival(ish) bakers/pastry chefs on the same cute little side block of a quaint walkable downtown.

Sans has that extremely detailed, finicky pastry work down pat, on top of all the strange new versions that keep, somehow, making filo dough more difficult and yet structurally impressive. he's tried all those cool gastro-chef techniques, but just loves & excels at the fancy little pastries. absolutely the type to just close the shop when he's sold out of whatever he felt interested in making a lot of that day. surprisingly good-yet-bad social media presence. makes the jokiest videos and jankiest signs advertising when he's got a new batch of Something Tasty out, but the most beautiful shots of his pastries.

Red is one of those not-so-surprisingly charming excon-type (maybe never actually in prison, but y'know) bakers that looks intimidating but makes the best goddamn homey baked goods you ever had. pies, breads, big soft filled rolls, anything that feels ghibli as hell, frankly. has a not-so-secret love of making those really decorative lattice-style pie crusts; can absolutely make art you wouldn't want to eat if not for how damned good you know the pie is. always the most slammed during autumn, has spirited """debates""" with Sans (who is directly across the cobbled street) whenever they get deliveries at the same time, often about incredibly inane but opinionated baking nuances. accidentally best friends with all the local widows and grandmas. frequently propositioned by all genders.

Skull is a bit of the odd man out - he used to work at a little old cakeshop on the corner, but Something Happened one day and that corner store has frustratingly been turned into Insert Encroaching Soulless Chain Here. he now works at the back of the little pizzeria, making the best goddamn pizza dough anyone's ever had. seeing him flip and spin those pizzas is art in and of itself. rumor still had it that there was someone on staff at that cakeshop that could make the most dazzling wedding cakes you ever did see, but they also made the flavors involved so harmonious you could cry....

....... MC is a new arrival, perhaps opening up her own little shop - a little cafe maybe, specializing in warm drinks and a simple menu of baked goods like croissants and scones and cookies, some finger foods, and most importantly Cozy Vibes.

maybe she puts out an ad for a proper baker to help her out while she makes the teas and coffees and runs the front....

... and maybe some shenanigans ensue ✧∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

genius. absolutely genius. allow me to lose my fucking mind

Mc opens up her delightful little cafe. It's small, obviously, since she's technically the only employee- though she's great at coffee she struggles to make anything more complex than a cookie for cafe food. Her croissants melt and flatten, her pies collapse, her attempts at macarons just spread out into a sheet. So! She puts out an ad!

Sans: Ironically, his habit of only making what he's interested in and randomly closing shop without warning has made his desserts even more sought after. The incredible intricate and unique nature of his treats give them an element of scarcity, and people will come from all over to get to his next batch early. The sign out the front says 'open 10am to 5pm monday to wednesday. open some thursdays, depends how i feel. closed the second friday in the month, unless we were open thursday before. open saturday. closed sunday'.

He was a bit suspicious of her cafe, he'll admit it. He's suspicious of anything new on the street. Various chain brands have been infiltrating the previously majority monster-run area, and he hates the way his favourite place is slowly being subsumed by shitty corporate machine-made food. But it only took one visit (purely out of curiosity) for him to get love at first sight.

Since his store has such a reputation, he can afford to flunk whenever he likes to go sit in with her and chat for hours; he's a welcome presence. After noticing her difficulty with baking he starts giving her tips but quickly graduates to giving her some of his stock, instantly boosting her popularity. She thinks he's giving her leftover stock he doesn't need- she has no idea he's making stuff specifically for her.

Red: Red and Pap do have a tendency to treat their business like it's a mafia. The way they call it the 'family business' often makes people think it's a front for organised crime. And it was, once- the two of them only opened the store to cover up what was happening behind the scenes. But then they enjoyed running a bakery so much that they dropped the crime. He doesn't like the way Sans has turned baking into something snooty and highbrow; Red thinks food should be delicious and comforting, not a one-bite commodity people pay out of the nose for.

Red becomes a cafe regular, he goes during breaks and straight after work. He spends most of his time standing up at the counter flirting relentlessly, but he's so on the dot that she usually has his order ready for him. He offers to teach her to make a good pie- "payment? what're you talkin' about, doll? seein' yer pretty face is payment enough fer me." There would definitely be some scenes of him teaching her to bake... standing behind her with his hands over hers, showing her the technique to fold dough, though neither of them are really concentrating because he's grinning like an idiot and she can only feel how hot her face is.

(He'd probably ruin it with a 'wish you'd pound my dough like that'. A swift smack, and the magic of the moment is over)

Skull: He's the one that responds to her ad.

Though he didn't mind his job, per say, he misses being able to make his own stuff. Pizza tossing can only do so much to fill the baking-shaped hole in his heart. He wanted to apply anyway, it was just a stroke of luck that the cafe owner turned out to be the love of his life. Though he's a bit spooky and looks at her like he can't see anything else, she's quick to accept him, telling him he can make whatever he wants- and that's when he works his magic. All the stunning cakes lining the display case are his handiwork.

He's a man of few words, and he doesn't like being in public, so he's always in the back baking and cleaning. He wishes he had the confidence to talk to her more. She brings him coffee whenever she has time, as thanks for all his hard work... she leaves foam art, since it's one of the few things she can do. Though when she leaves a heart, the coffee usually ends up going cold. He tends to just stare at the heart until the foam is gone.

#llamagines #coffee shop au #fuck it we ballin #got us a coffee shop au

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stil-lindigo · 9 months

Note

hi! i'm currently taking a stab at a short comic for the first time and i was wondering — if you're willing to share — what goes into the “base” of your projects? your creative notes have been a HUGE help in pinpointing things i might want to outline in my own work before i actually start making the project, but i'm still incredibly curious about the initial work and planning that goes into the making of yours. love your art!

hello anon! first of all, congratulations on starting on a comic! I hope you find it very fulfilling, and a great learning experience. To answer this ask, I'm going to use bite of winter as the main example for my work process.

Text: More often than not, I start with the entire textual part of the comic finalised. This is kind of obvious, considering my comics are entirely built around it serving as a sort of narration substitute, but it stays true for comics that are just dialogue as well. Speech bubbles will always take up more space than you think. It's good to have all the dialogue finalised before you start so you can accommodate them in the thumbnailing process. --

Thumbnails: I make thumbnails for all my comics so that I can, at a glance, see if things are cohesive. I'll often spend a lot of time at this stage, since it's also the part where I wrack my brain for smart things I can do compositionally (sometimes I go into comics knowing what sort of smart things I want to do e.g the comparison between the open grave + the empty bed was the entire inspiration behind making shallow grave). Thumbnails are always quick and dirty for me. I know my own brain, so I always just do the bare minimum and know I'll be able to interpret it later. Here are the thumbnails I made for bite of winter.

note: the bright blue border on all the 'pages' is just to indicated where i should try to keep my panels.

it's extremely shitty but it's decipherable to me, and the whole point of thumbnail is that you're hopefully saving yourself time in the future by getting all this planning out now. --

3. Colour: Colour blocks are how I plan out how a comic's colour scheme should look as a cohesive package. Although I didn't used to do this for comics, I do it now ever since I wasted around 8 hours on patchwork canary just fiddling with the colours (ugh). I'll usually go into a project knowing what kind of tone I want to convey with it, which gives me a launchpad for what kind of colour scheme I'd like. For instance, RED, one of my best comics, only uses three colours (black, white and red) and that limited colour palette enhances the message behind it. I think it wouldn't be nearly as impactful if it was all standardly coloured - having that contrast pushes Red's impact as a significant character in the narrative by making her pop on the page.

In a similar vein, almost all of the sunset's emotional complexity gets expressed through its colour palette of red, blue and yellow.

Even though it might be more conventionally coloured with shading and whatnot, the choices behind making certain scenes darker/lighter and etc really sells the story more in my opinion.

These are the colour thumbnails I made for bite of winter. It's incredibly rough, but at a glance you can tell the comic doesn't have any particular page that is jarring or pulls you out of it.

As one more note: I'd advise doing all thumbnailing/colour-blocking at a much smaller size than the actual page is going to be. It keeps you from obsessing over fine details, and encourages you to just block in shapes and colours really quickly.

that's all from me for now. I hope this helped, and I wish you luck on your project. Pace yourself! Comics are more work than people ever say they are, and it's good to just take your time and enjoy the process.

#askbox #anon #comics with lindi

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semper-draca · 28 days

Text

There's something so depressing about being an artist on tumblr these days that I'm finding hard to articulate. Years ago, shitty one-hour sketches I posted would at least get double digits in the notes. These days, I can post commissions that took over fifty hours and get 5 notes at most. Blah blah do art for yourself, sure, but the important part is -

I Rarely Get Commissions Anymore.

Where I used to have to limit how many comms I could accept at once because I'd get that many requests, now I'm lucky to get two when I open up coms again. People don't reblog the art I do for myself, so no one finds my commission info that way. People don't reblog the art I do for commissions, so no one finds my commission info that way. People don't reblog commissions posts. A couple likes will get tossed at it from people who don't actually reach out in interest, so it doesn't circulate and it's just me reblogging it into the void, desperately hoping for some modicum of cash. I feel like people don't understand these days how little money most artists are bringing in, and the anxiety that comes with drastically declining circulation of art on websites like tumblr. Right now, for example, I'm desperate to earn as much money as I can during the summer because what I earn this summer? Has to last me rent for seven months straight to help offset the inevitable drain of all the savings I have. Normally some of that would come from art - nowadays, I can't rely on getting even a single commission.

I think this anxiety and this real material concern is what is behind all those "please for the love of god reblog art/posts you like" posts that people love to get angry about. If you haven't been here for years, it can be hard to see the ways in which this vanishing reblog culture has severely hit artists and forced many away from this platform. I don't want to leave tumblr or stop posting my art here, but good god is it depressing to see this site, and I cannot stress this enough, almost COMPLETELY VANISH as a revenue stream. I don't know what the solution to this culture shift is, but I do know that it's causing this site to deteriorate and forcing artists to move elsewhere and invest less effort on tumblr because it no longer makes any financial sense. I know that everyone is tired of hearing this, and fair enough, because there are plenty of other artists with louder voices than mine saying similar things, but please, if you like some art, consider reblogging it. Even if you have no interest in ever commissioning that artist. Others might see it and be interested, and that's how most new clients are made. Artists have rent on the line.

anyway, if you've made it to the end of this rant and haven't blocked me for it lmao, I still have commissions open

#semper rants about stuff #idk yall its just exhausting and im sure im not the only one who feels this

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etincelleart · 1 month

Text

The more I'm on internet and the more I see harassment and call out posts every single day on various fandoms/artists spaces for all possible reasons and honestly I don't even know what to say outside of the fact that this is so freaking dangerous and wild to put labels and accusations on people you don't even know, or to not even try to understand and seek knownledge about the situation outside of what you want to see and understand. There are real predators doing illegal stuff who need to be stopped and yet people having fun and imagining things for ocs, various characters and ships are being accused of the worst things ever and it follows them everywhere. Tiny things are took as obvious signs of predatory behavior or racism or whatever and this is supposed to be fine.

I don't even mean to bring back the topic of my own story but experiencing dog piling and rumors and serious accusations for months because of a follow is just completely wild when I think about it. With some distance, I think I could have handled everything better when I spoke about it publicly. But I never should have wrote this post in the first place.

Block button exist and report button exist as well for serious problematic elements. My take is that no one deserves harassment and cruelty. But when you say "I'm against harassment and I don't want this person to be harassed", people take it as you defending "problematic" elements and completely distort it anyway. It's honestly exhausting and stupid.

Everyone has something that make them uncomfortable or that triggers them and I have my own standards as well. There are things I consider seriously weird but we don't know people and we don't know any of the intention behind the art. The way you explore something, how you do it, for what reason is what should matter. There are so much things you don't know. Nothing is black and white. I honestly think that as an artist, your art is connected to you, but the themes you work on are NOT reality. Again it's about the intention and how you go about something. I just think media literacy should really be teached at school because wow.

I just thought about expressing myself on this because it's just too serious and harming a lot of people who did nothing. I got attacked over a FOLLOW for someone who did nothing but imagine a future AU for characters and I think that's insane. Everything should be analyzed case by case. There are a real dangers who need to be exposed but this is never a reason or a justification to become cruel or to wish harm to anyone and assume the worst on people you never met. Just take a breath, go outside and learn how to block people, because that's insane the amount of people I had to block because they were being shitty but didn't block me or were still even following me.

I'm trying to not let my emotions get the better of me but that's honestly insane many others and myself got caught into this. The only thing I always did is drawing Nuts and Dolts because that's the only ship I could ever care about in RWBY. Being against harassment is not about defending "bad" people. It's so easy to judge people and make your little assumptions harming REAL people like that.

#fandom #ship #proship #anti #discourse #just rambling

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undead-supernova · 2 months

Text

HIGH TOLERANCE

Masterlist

important note: this is a one-off of my High Tolerance series! I suggest reading everything else to understand what the hell is happening and why this is important to the story hehehe!

warnings: fluff to the nines with a hint of desire, smoking weed (obviously), body image mention, death mention

pairings: modern!bestfriend!Eddie x bisexual!fem!reader

plot: this is the one where you and Eddie smoke weed together for the first time--well, amongst other silly little firsts (about five months after they first met)

this was already something I'd been thinking of but I heard the song Close One by FIZZ and it is so Eddie and Weirdo coded it's crazy

wc: 4.8k

Eddie watched as you took a few steps past the door, walking slowly as if you were in some art gallery. Tentative steps that echoed off his empty walls and unsettled wooden floors. Noticing the hum of the air conditioning and birds chirping near the windowsill.

This was the first time you’d been in his new apartment.

There were boxes everywhere, some half-opened, others not at all. You’d insisted that you could help him with the move, but he’d shaken his head. Told you that Steve, Jeff, Gareth, and Grant could do it. Told you that you’d be his first house guest once he got everything figured out.

But, uh. Well.

There were boxes in every corner. No table. Only a plank of wood on top of two extra-large boxes in front of a TV being held up by yet another box. But he loved it. This was the first place he could call his home, no matter how shitty or overpriced the place was. He had a view of the street and a place to put his amp. A fridge with next to no food. A mattress with no frame.

It wasn’t exactly a palace and Eddie knew that. But it was his.

“This is a fucking palace if I’ve ever seen one,” you said, turning to see Eddie leaning up against the door. His eyebrows raised. “I’m surprised you don’t have any guards standing outside. What if a dragon gets in?”

The smile you gave him was playful, without a hint of judgment.

“Guess I’ll have to slay it with my bare hands,” Eddie replied, finally pushing himself off the door to flex his nonexistent muscles.

“Wow,” you said, placing your hands over your heart. “I’m shaking in my little boots.”

“What can I say?”

Eddie gave you a grand tour of his studio apartment, which consisted of walking about twenty steps to the bedroom before turning to the bathroom and coming right back to the surprisingly spacious kitchen but tiny living room.

The two of you mainly stood at the small island separating the kitchen and living room, leaning over with your chins propped up by your hands. Discussing where to put his Dio and Iron Maiden posters. Contemplated going to the thrift store for a couch. Wondered if you could change the upholstery yourselves if you didn’t like the fabric but loved the feel. Decided you were too stupid to even try to figure that out.

By the time you checked your phone, it was nearing evening.

“Should we cook dinner?” you asked. “I’m hungry as fuck.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Cook?”

Eddie didn’t know much about cooking. Robin and Steve had been the ones to stock the fridge and take turns at the stove. Eddie was merely there to watch or be called to meals, savoring every last bite like he could wake up the next morning without the access again.

A part of him was still reeling from Spaghettios and whatever low-priced high fructose corn syrup meal Wayne left in the pantry. There was nothing like spending nights by the shitty TV eating saltine crackers and peanut butter. Sometimes blocks of cheese when Wayne wanted to try making sandwiches before work—but those attempts never lasted very long.

“Yeah, like we could make chicken Alfredo and some garlic bread.”

He shrugged. “I was thinking like, you know, takeout or something. There’s a Thai place across the street.”

You gave him a weird look. “Do you not cook?”

“Uh, no. I don’t really know how.”

“Chicken?” He shook his head. “Pasta?” Another shake.

You nodded, walking over to pick up your purse. “If you’re going to be living alone, I think I should at least teach you how to cook pasta, chicken, and bread.”

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“We,” you started, fiddling with your keys. “are going to the grocery store.”

Eddie groaned, dramatically falling to the floor. “I fucking haaaaate going to the grocery store. It takes fucking forever out here.”

You smiled with an eye roll. “Get up, you dramatic queen.”

He sighed, letting you help him to his feet before grabbing his wallet and keys.

“The one and only.”

“Mm. Yeah, well you haven’t gone to the grocery store with me. I’ll show you the way.”

You truly were a wizard when it came to navigating the grocery store in fifteen minutes or less. Kroger was your bitch and he respected the hell out of that. On top of it all, you explained how to shop cheap as you whisked him around. You never grabbed his hand, settling for his wrist.

Was it weird that he felt a sting of disappointment?

Despite this, he loved watching you move, watching you move him.

Bakery.

You hummed, fingers ghosting over the different breads. “See, you get the bread that’s a dollar or two, the ones that are on sale because they’re a few days out from going bad,” you explained, plucking a French baguette out of one of the top shelves. “That way,” you turned to him. “you’re saving money and have enough for a few days.”

Aisle 14.

“So, you get that cheap fettuccine,” you said, crouching down to grab the generic brand before immediately popping back up. “It really doesn’t matter anyways. Well, as long as you cook it all the way through.”

Produce.

“You have garlic?” you asked.

Eddie only shook his head, almost embarrassed at the idea that he was supposed to have it.

But you just smiled.

“No problemo. I didn’t either before someone showed me.” Grabbing a giant jar of minced garlic, you chucked it in the basket. “This will last you a long, long time. I haven’t gotten another bottle in months and I use it in just about everything.”

Meat.

“Always grab the ones that are on sale since they’re going bad sooner. It’s still good and you can just cook it up to use for a few more meals if you’d like. Should we get you tortillas? I feel like you could get good at making a mean quesadilla.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, watching the ingredient list stack up, wondering how much everything was about to cost.

“Next time.”

“Next time,” you promised.

And after grabbing heavy whipping cream, mozzarella, parmesan, and basic spices for the alfredo sauce, claiming that you were able to make more than what a jar could provide him, you headed to the self-checkout. You insisted on buying everything despite his protests. Even cooking pans and spatulas.

“You really don’t have to.”

“I have a Kroger card. You’re saving me, like, fifty cents on gas.” As you scanned, you added, “Consider it a housewarming gift.”

Eddie didn’t know what to think about your kindness, the way you were able to just give to him without a second thought. It was a friendship that seemed beyond the realm of tough boundaries. You were able to help and provide your support without asking anything in return. Without thought, without any demand of him. Offering aid, leading with an open mind and heart.

It occurred to Eddie that he still didn’t know what to think of you.

“Always use butter,” you stated, giving him a serious stare. “You will fuck up your nice new pans and your chicken if you use oil.”

As he watched you cook, with a little furrow between your eyebrows as you focused, Eddie couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have this be a regular occurrence. If he could always have you here, cooking and laughing with him. Dancing around the small space to Nova Twins and Black Sabbath all the time, using his spatula as a multi-purpose tool—a cooking utensil, a microphone and a guitar.

“Are you even paying attention?”

“Ah, yeah, sorry.”

“Yes, what?”

Eddie snorted. “Yes, chef.”

But there was a little something he couldn’t shake, noticing for the first time how your black babydoll dress fit you, with lace dripping down below the hemline. His eyes traced down your body as you preoccupied yourself, a new sort of heat reaching his cheeks. It was starting to move further through him, finding its way down, down, down…

Without thinking, Eddie shook his head and opened the cabinet next to you, placing a wooden box on the counter. It was littered with stickers, chipped and nicked from being used and moved so often. As he lifted the top, the aroma of cannabis hit the two of you like a particularly brutal wave.

“Woah, there!” you said, looking down with wide eyes. “What do you have there, Mr. Munson?”

Your reaction was nearly unreadable. He couldn’t blame you. There was a stockpile, with cones and papers and a few edibles and rolled joints. Little jars full of bud. An extra pack of cigarettes.

He hadn’t really thought about what you’d think about it or if you smoked at all. As he combed through his memory, he found no recollection of you mentioning it at all since you’d met.

“Oh, uh,” he mumbled, continuing to pull out a particularly pretty joint. “You smoke?”

Something in his stomach twisted when he saw a wide grin reach your lips. Because, Jesus, you were cute. Had he really not noticed just how cute you were until then? He did everything he could to prevent the heat from returning, but the steam omitting from the stove was making it worse.

“Do I smoke?” you teased. “I can’t believe you just asked me that.”

Relief ran through him at your banter, knowing he picked you well when he asked to be your best friend. “I didn’t know!”

“I clearly didn’t show you my bong collection. That’s my bad.”

That pulled a laugh out of Eddie.

Being around you was just as easy as being around Wayne. It was something resembling familial, but for some reason today was beginning to show him that it extended far beyond that. It was like with each passing moment spent in each other’s company, the definitions and adjectives were shifting and stretching into something he couldn’t quite articulate. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“What the fuck are they even saying?” As Eddie looked at the name of the album on your phone, Этажи, he added, “How do you even pronounce that?”

You shrugged. “I don’t fucking know. But it’s cool, right? Like, this is goth music from Belarus. Belarus. Isn’t that cool? The guitars, the fuzzy feeling. The baur-dunnunununun,” you sang along, imitating playing the drums. You were actually quite rhythmic, able to follow along to the beat perfectly. “I listen to this on repeat all the time. It’s so addictive.”

Since the two of you finished dinner and split a joint, you had gone on a full on mission to induct Eddie into the world of goth rock. The Eighties classics, the recents. Bauhaus, Joy Division, Siouxsie and the Banshees, London After Midnight, She Wants Revenge, Alien Sex Fiend, etc etc.

At first, Eddie was opposed to the whole thing, extremely disinterested. But you were adamant to keep going, to delve into the subculture and expose him to the magic. The dancing began to make sense to him, watching as you gave a demonstration. Your face angled towards the floor, your arms high. Wrists twisting and turning as you swayed back and forth. The lace moved and twirled wherever you went, your outfit fitting the music perfectly.

He was starting to understand, with each string of poetic lyricism and atmospheric stroke of the guitar—the same thing he’d always seen in Black Sabbath. The outfits, the makeup. The defiance against modern society and culture. The romanticism, the guttural heartbreak. The yearning. Pining. The desperation for something pure and lovely to hold onto. It was something else, something special all on its own and his judgment had been extremely unwarranted.

“I didn’t get what you meant before about it having its own sound, but that’s on me,” he admitted. “I’m sorry for being a little bitch.”

Your smile grew as you continued dancing around him, eyes never leaving his. Eddie turned to hold your eye contact as you swayed, nearly mesmerized by your movement. He wanted to blame it on the haze of the weed, but something scratching at his brain told him it was just you.

“That’s the last time you doubt me, alright?” you said, seemingly closer than before. This time, you were dancing even slower as you circled him. It was starting to make his mouth dryer than it was already.

“The last time, indeed,” he responded.

Your playlist started over, the haunting beginning to “Bela Lugosi’s Dead” filling Eddie with an odd sense of ease. It was kind of like metal, but stripped down. The beat never stopped moving, always pushing forward in a soothing way. What the hell did they pump into these songs?

“Look at us, unplugged from the outside world,” he said with a little laugh as the two of you sat down on the floor. Your backs against the wall, cross-legged. “We’re so cool and different.”

You raised an eyebrow at him, a smile never leaving your lips. “I’m usually unplugged when I’m not at work.”

This was news to him. You were always quick to answer his texts whenever you were off, always at a rapid fire pace. In fact, it was unusual if you weren’t texting him back.

But Eddie decided to keep that to himself, letting you continue.

“Everyone is so loud these days.” You began to gesture with your hands, nearly hitting his arm. “‘This is the right opinion. No, this is. Who said what. This stranger is too judgmental, this one isn’t critical enough. Oh, look, this celebrity is wearing something. Wanna hear about a YouTuber you don’t give a shit about having beef with another YouTuber you don’t give a shit about?

“‘Want to make money dancing to sped up classics? Well, how about we do it so much that artists are rearranging their already awesome music to appease an audience. Let’s bully kids. Let’s doxx people. Did you see this? What about that? Well, why aren’t you online? Do you not care? Here’s the news. Oh, wait, that’s the wrong news. Someone famous is having a baby. A Kardashian just broke up with someone, can you believe it? Let’s make body sizes a trend and follow every celebrity who has changed their appearance to fit a fad. Skinny’s in, skinny is still in but you’re allowed to have a few curves. Fuck it, it’s cool to look sick. Here’s an Eighties trend, here’s Y2k.’”

You paused, taking a deep breath. “And then suddenly you’ve spent your whole day spiraling from an existential crisis about the lack of control you have. Feeling fucked up because we were not designed to go this fast. And then suddenly you’re wondering if you’ll ever be able to just frolic in a field like we were built to. If we have a future at all.”

With a final sigh, you shook your head. “Sorry, I get a little intense sometimes when I smoke. But, yeah, I think I’m gonna try to block out the noise before the whole internet explodes and there’s nothing left but scraps and archives.”

Eddie nodded, understanding your thoughts completely. He’d never been one to care about social media or the internet in general. Hell, he hadn’t gotten a smartphone until he got his first real paycheck here. The most he did was read the newspaper, no shit, and get help from his friends whenever he was in rotation to do promo for the band on their socials. His brain was usually filled to the brim with racing thoughts anyways, never needing the outside world coming in.

Well, until he walked into a bar and met you.

“What do you do then?” he asked.

Shrugging, you said, “I like to get high and cook while listening to music. Read books and listen to music. Journal. Go to some local shows to find new bands. Drink coffee at local places and listen to music. A lot of it has to do with listening to music.” Eddie couldn’t help but smile. “It’s the only thing that really seems to make sense anymore. Spotify tells me I listen to music more than, like, ninety percent of people, but I think they’re lying to make me feel cool.”

Eddie laughed. “Don’t go all conspiratorial on me this early in the smoke session.”

As you wiggled your fingers in his face, your voice went low. “Listen to my words, Eddie Boy! These are no longer theories, but facts! Tinfoil hats are sexy! Oooooh, spooky! Creeeeepy!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, shooing your hands away. “Okay, okay. Enough with whatever any of that was.”

Laughter died out before you asked the one question he’d hoped you’d never ask.

“I was really surprised when you said you didn’t know how to cook. Has your mom really never taught you how?”

Despite wanting to look away from your curious eyes, Eddie held your stare. “Uh, no. My mom died when I was a kid.”

Eyes widening, you sat up. “Oh, Eddie. Shit. I’m sorry for assuming—”

“No, no,” he interrupted. “It’s all good. You didn’t know.”

“Okay.”

The two of you were quiet again before Eddie asked, “Do you wanna know about it?”

You nodded silently.

Eddie embarked on what he called his backstory, like he was a fictional character in a novel. Maybe it was the only way he would make it through his shitty past, a tale of a boy with a dream for a good future but always coming up short.

You didn’t say anything the entire time, only watching him, eyes trained on his hands whenever he gestured. But as he spoke, he realized that his descriptions of everyone just weren’t right.

He led you to a box that he swore he’d keep closed forever, already hidden on the top shelf of his closet. The two of you sat on the carpet by his mattress, music faint in the background.

He began showing you a picture or two of his mom before he couldn’t help but keep going through the photographs. There was Wayne. The Hellfire Club. Dustin, Mike, Lucas, Max, and Erica. Ronnie, before she left for college. Bev, scowling at the camera from The Hideout. The band after their last show there. The solitary picture he had of his father from when he was barely a year old.

All of these pieces of himself that he kept close to his heart, kept close to his soul if those existed. The life he swore to keep hidden now that he was gone, with only Steve and Robin connecting him to his past. Gareth, Grant, and Jeff once they were able to graduate and move. Even then, it felt like they were a part of something new, not old.

Hawkins made him feel isolated, hollow. It was a constant reminder of everything he lost, from his mother to his father to watching Wayne slowly killing himself from working so hard all the fucking time. With his last name preceding him in reputation, there was no way to get through a singular day without a hiss or an insult. Even when people cared about him.

When he got out, he didn’t realize that there was a possibility he could meet people who were willing to give him a chance.

And he was noticing how engaged you were, studying all the photos intently, taking your time to scan them for seemingly every detail. You were focused on one in particular, of his mom in a blue sundress and Eddie resting on her hip. She was smiling, the kind of smile that comes once in a lifetime. The kind of smile that gave him an ache in his bones from missing so fucking much.

“My mom’s from Memphis, actually,” he whispered.

Your eyes lit up as you met his gaze. “We could’ve grown up so close to one another. Could you imagine?”

Eddie could. Transporting Ronnie and Granny Ecker to Tennessee. The three of you running around causing trouble. His mom calling them in for dinner, watching you fall asleep before your parents picked you up. Blasting metal around the suburbs, carpooling to school. Climbing trees and making it a shared hiding spot when things got tough.

Making sure he never lost contact with Ronnie.

“Yeah,” he said with a small smile. “I really can.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” you asked, looking at him.

“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “I didn’t want you to judge me or something.”

“We all come from somewhere. Just because I grew up in a suburb doesn’t mean I’d judge you for living in a trailer. It’s not like you chose that or like that’s a bad thing. You didn’t choose to have your mom pass away and you didn’t choose to have your dad fuck up and get arrested. Those are the cards you were dealt, sure, but you came here. You got out with people who love and care about you. That’s no small feat.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” he said, feeling heat flood his cheeks at your nice words. “I just haven’t ever seen it that way, I guess. Just a metalhead finding his way through the throws of life.”

“You’re more than just a metalhead, you know,” you said. His eyebrows furrowed. “That’s not the most interesting thing about you.”

“What is?”

“Well, I, uh…” You hesitated and Eddie began to wonder why you were tongue-tied all of a sudden. “I mean, you’re talented and you clearly enjoy quality time with people. You care and that’s a big deal. Not a lot of people care the way you do, even if you’re a little shy about it.” You opened and closed your mouth a few times like you were fighting something before adding, “There’s more but I’m pretty high. Ask me again tomorrow.”

Eddie smiled, trying not to let your words affect him the way they were starting to. “Will do, captain.”

It was infectious, being around you. You never failed to surprise him, to twist him into something more than he already was. No matter what, you were always changing the way he saw the world. His world. And Eddie knew that if he wasn’t careful, there would be a day when he would fall desperately in love with you.

Before either of you knew it, you were another joint deep, going in and out of full on talking and watching TV. He tried to show you Alien but then you kept pausing the movie to engage in a discussion that led into conversations that led into sheer nonsense. Laughter and banter and eventually a little bit of beer.

When Eddie finally checked his phone, the realization that it was midnight washed over him. “Oh, uh, hey, when do you need to leave?” he asked, looking up. “I don’t wanna keep you here if you need to go. It’s late.”

Your expression turned sheepish as you played with the fabric of his blanket. You didn’t even bother to check your phone. “To be honest, I don’t know if I’m sober enough to drive. I didn’t really think about it.”

“You could just sleep here if you’d like?” Eddie offered without thought before realizing exactly what he was suggesting. You, here. In his apartment. Alone. For the whole night.

“On the floor?” you asked with a laugh.

“I could take the floor,” he suggested. “You can have my bed.” “Why don’t we both take the bed?” you asked, finally making eye contact with him. He noticed your eyes widen, something washing over you.

But there was no time to wonder as Eddie froze at the realization at what exactly you were suggesting. You, here. In his apartment. In his bed. Together. For the night.

“You’re, uh, cool with that?” he asked, starting to fiddle with the damp label on his second beer. It was starting to shed from his picking, the adhesive sticking to his fingernails.

“Um, yeah. I am.” Your nonchalance seemed to fall as you shrugged. “But if you don’t feel comfortable with that, like, I totally understand—”

“Let’s do it,” Eddie said.

After your final attempt to finish the movie, you two were beat. Three in the morning, the world outside clouded in slumber while Eddie fumbled through the dark. Did he forget to mention that he didn’t even have a lamp yet?

When you were finally settled in bed, with you wearing a spare set of his pajamas, there was a silence between you. Eddie was unable to discern whether it was awkward or natural, his thoughts kicking into overdrive. This was a close one, maybe a little too close. Here you were, in his bed. In his apartment. In a sick turn of events, he didn’t have to stop being around you and he didn’t want to. You didn’t drain his energy. Not even once. It was goddamn twisted.

Eddie felt a shift in weight in the bed and before he knew it, your foot had come to rest on top of his calf. His heart hammered in his chest, wondering what this was. And he was…nervous? Why was he nervous? You were just friends. This was fine, right? Just some normal human contact between friends.

But you started…running your foot up and down his leg?

And then you wiggled your toes.

“Helllooooo, Edward,” you said with a high-pitched voice, verging on absolute creep territory.

He immediately flinched from your touch, scooting away from you to the edge of the bed. You howled with laughter, getting closer.

“Fuck off with that!” he nearly shouted. “That’s so fucking weird.”

“I’m cooooming for you, Edward,” you said in the voice again. “My preeeecious!”

You tried to start tickling him but Eddie fought back, pushing you away from him. Howls of laughter poured out of you, clutching your chest with pure glee. You were an absolute menace of a person.

“You’re such a weirdo!” he exclaimed, laughing his ass off.

“At least I own up to it.”

He finally turned over, watching you with your head tilted on the pillow, your hands wrapped up underneath. Mirroring your position, he let out one last chuckle before his smile softened.

“That’s your name now,” he concluded. “Weirdo.”

You nodded. “It has a nice ring to it.”

Eddie couldn’t believe that people like you existed, silly and real and beautiful and fun. Sometimes it seemed like he was the only goofy person in the room, always starting bits or talking in weird voices. Usually it was just him being up for a laugh with only some reciprocation. You, on the other hand, were just like him. It was unique in its own way, but you still fed off of his energy as much as he fed off of yours.

You two just looked in each other’s eyes illuminated by the light cascading down from the blinds. His eyes couldn’t help but flicker back and forth, trying to read you. Because you had this doe-eyed expression, with an extra sparkle of light starting to shine in your eyes. And your smile was tied up with a slight bite to your lip, like you were holding something back, like there was a sentence forming on your tongue.

It was new, this side of you.

“Why’re you looking at me like that?” he asked, nearly desperate to know what you were thinking.

Some of your smile dropped…but not all the way.

There was a glaze over your eyes, the playfulness gone. It was something more serious than what was normal for you. He couldn't discern what this was and he knew it was going to kill him. “What? Nothing. I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“Yeah, okay, sure,” he teased.

And then there were moments like these, where the silence felt comfortable and the stillness in the air didn’t feel suffocating, he was beginning to realize that he still wanted you there. Actually, if anything, it made spending time with you even better. He didn’t have to always be on all the time. He could just be himself, be human. With someone else.

He hadn’t even felt the need to smoke a cigarette tonight.

You two stayed like that until you lost whatever game you were playing and you closed your eyes for the night. Lightly snored, with your face squished against the pillow. It made him smile to see you at such a raw level and still the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen and—

Eddie’s eyes widened as realization overcame him.

He grabbed his phone and pulled up his texts with Robin.

ik it’s 4am but she stayed over

rob i think

well i think i know

Robin’s three dots popped up.

Spit it out, Eddie!

Eddie sighed quietly, glancing over at you one more time.

i’m falling in love with her

extra special thanks to @jo-harrington for always being so so supportive and encouraging of this series :')

#Eddie munson #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie munson fluff #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x reader #best friend!eddie #modern!eddie munson #modern!eddie x reader #best friend!Eddie x reader #I hope this makes up for not having IPTPYW uploaded this week!

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