#Another one I've been thinking of making that I only have a name for
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— CALL ME LITTLE SUNSHINE | part i
pairing: rockstar ! eddie x innocent ! reader
tags: pet names. dirty talk. making-out. fingering. oral; (fem receiving). marking; (hickeys). loss of virginity. corruption kink. semi-public sex. eddie is entirely pussy whipped.
w/c: 6.7k.
a/n: welcome to part one! it's been a hot minute since i've posted anything as thought out and in-depth as this so if you could take a few minutes to reblog or comment some feedback, i'd very much appreciate it. ♥
"Corroded Coffin! Corroded Coffin! Corroded Coffin!"
The ever-growing crowd had been calling for the band the entire time you'd been waiting in line, which, after looking at the watch tucked beneath the sleeve of your cardigan, had been almost an hour and a half. The chanting had gotten so loud that, at some point, you'd stopped being able to hear yourself think, instead relying on Steve's large hand clasped around your own to tell you when to shuffle forward.
You felt out of place, unlike Steve and Robin. Everywhere you looked, people were dressed in leather and chains; piercings here, there, and everywhere; fishnets; big black platform boots; heavy make-up; and tattoos. And then there was you, dressed in a simple summer dress, hugging a knitted cardigan around your shoulders, wearing strappy sandals, and looking like someone right out of the Stepford Wives.
Other people noticed; you'd swear it, though no one said anything. As you looked between people, you caught a few of them looking at you, their expressions a motley of emotions that made you shift uncomfortably. Metal music had never been a particular favourite of yours, and concerts like this—where people were packed in like sardines—definitely weren't your preferred scene. The thought of being alone, snuggled beneath a blanket, and enjoying a glass of Moscato was much more appealing.
But you'd promised Steve and Robin that you'd come.
Well, no, not exactly. You hadn't promised either of them anything; instead, you'd given in to their constant whining. Steve and Robin had hung themselves from your legs as though they were dramatic, tantruming toddlers, pouting, and begging you to go with them. And after promising to cook dinner every night for a week—no, wait, a month!—your resolve finally broke.
That was how you found yourself finally walking through the double doors of the stadium. A gust from the air conditioner greeted you as you stepped inside, blowing your hair into your eyes and lip gloss, but it was a welcomed relief.
"I think that took literally forever." Your feet were already aching, and the thought of standing for another two hours was mentally and physically exhausting. Sure, you'd listened to some of Corroded Coffin's songs and thought they were good, but you weren't looking forward to standing in a sweaty crowd.
"Right. That was crazy, and they only have two scanners going. It's going to take forever to get everyone inside." Steve replied. His fingers tightened around yours when he felt your strides slowing, and he turned to notice your attention was on the merchandise display a few feet away. Following your gaze, he found the band tees hung up on a pinboard, images pressed onto the fronts and backs of each one. Some showed the band's tour dates and the cities they were scheduled to stop in, while others had stylised versions of Eddie's face.
Steve practically beamed with pride. He was proud of how far Eddie had come since they'd met—from school freak to famous rockstar. It was a big change, but a well-deserved one, given all the shit he'd been through. Somehow, he'd remained modest and hadn't forgotten where he'd come from; he'd gotten his uncle out of the trailer and into a two-bedroom apartment; he thanked his uncle and friends during every interview; he'd even forgiven his childhood bullies, though he never forgot what they'd done to him.
"Come on," he said while tugging your hand. "We should get in before the show starts," he said when you hesitated, teeth tugging on your lower lip as you continued to eye the shirts, bandanas, and posters on display. It was called the Upside Down Tour, and the band had released a limited-edition shirt for the tour.
"I want to get a shirt; this is the first concert like this I've ever been to. I want something to remember it." You explained. You wriggled your fingers in his, hinting that you wanted him to let go. If you'd have blinked, you might have missed it, but you swore that Steve and Robin shared a look—the kind that carried secret conversations and amusement.
Your heart stuttered in your chest, painful and sudden, while your mind raced to a dozen terrible thoughts. What if they regretted bringing you along, even though they'd practically begged you to go? What if they were angry? Fuck, what if they hated you? You must have looked like you were about to pass out because Steve took pity on you, reassuringly squeezing your hand as he stepped closer.
"Shit, sorry," he apologised with a crooked smile. "It's all good. We can pick one up after the show, okay? We need to get inside before security locks the doors."
"Oh," you answered. You ducked your head to hide your face, which felt like it was burning with embarrassment. You suddenly felt childish for letting your anxiety get the better of you, especially given that this was Steve and Robin, who had been nothing but kind from the moment you'd first met them. "Of course. After the show."
As though she sensed your distress, which she more than likely did because you radiated emotions like the sun radiated heat, Robin grabbed your other hand, lacing her fingers with yours, and gave you a sympathetic smile that mimicked the one on Steve's face. You loved them, but sometimes you hated them. So often, Robin and Steve seemed to be on the same page, on the same mental wavelength, having entire conversations with the lofting of a brow or half-smirk while you were on your own, a stranger looking in.
You tried not to think about it and tried desperately not to let negative emotions get the better of you tonight. You were at a concert with two amazing people, about to see a fantastic band play live. It was going to be a good night. Steve showed his ticket to one of the women managing the traffic flow, who motioned down a steep staircase into a standing pit right in front of the stage.
As you predicted, the crowd was already massive; there were too many people to fit comfortably within the stadium, but no one would complain as long as everyone behaved. And everyone would behave if they were able to see the band play. It wasn't long before the lights went down, and the crowd's cheering rose to a thunderous crescendo.
You felt the violent vibrations of the bass guitar as the bassist began the opening rift—how it rattled the ivory cage around your lungs until your entire body swayed to the rhythm. A sudden fireworks explosion dazzled and blinded you as the crowd rushed forward. Then the atmosphere turned electric, casting a weaving web on the crowd and drawing them in.
When the smoke settled, you saw the band had taken their places on stage, dressed in black denim, leather, chains, tattoos, and wild hair. They preened beneath the attention of their peers as the frontman and lead singer, Eddie Munson, moved to stand before a microphone. "I hope you're ready to rock, Hawkins, 'cause we're not stopping until the cops come knocking!"
Steve grabbed your wrist and dragged you in front of him, pushing you closer to the stage. That was how you found yourself standing front and centre. One of his hands grabbed your hip firmly, ready to break the fingers of any other wandering hands. He wrapped his other arm around Robin's shoulders, holding her to him as they sang along to a song you didn't know the words to.
It wasn't your proximity to him or the bruising grip of his fingers that warmed your blood, but the singer on stage. You'd seen pictures of Eddie in the trashy magazine you picked up from the gas station occasionally; each one seemed to be a different headline, each as scandalous as the last. Corroded Coffin's singer caught with another woman? Eddie Munson, Satanic Priest! Some of them were ridiculous, and none of them had been particularly entertaining, especially when, in every interview, he seemed humble, perhaps even flustered by the fame.
The sight of him on stage sent heat dripping down your cheeks and into your neck, spiralling through your veins to gather at your core.
He looked like a devil but had the face of an angel—wild curls bounced around his face, you caught glimpses of his inked skin, and there was a perfect trail of hair on his abdomen. He strummed at his guitar strings as though it were his lover, plucking the cords with perfectly practised movements. You wondered what else his fingers could do, and a wild blush crept into your face.
As though your thoughts weren't mortifying enough, he seemed to have noticed. His eyes found yours in the crowd, as if he could see straight into your brain and was plucking the fantasies from your mind.
The world slowed to a crawl and faded until it was just the two of you and your racing thoughts. You drank in the sight of him. You caught glimpses of his tattoos, watched how droplets of sweat rolled down the hollow of his throat as the heat of the stage lights bore down on him, and watched how his lips moved as he sang, the rasps of his voice enough to make you tremble.
You tugged your lower lip between your teeth, almost afraid to look away; you wanted this moment to go on forever and ever. But as abruptly as it began, the fantasy ended when he looked out across the crowd, and as he did, the world snapped back into place. Your heart was racing, and your breath was erratic.
You felt silly having been caught up in such an intense moment with a perfect stranger, even if he was handsome and famous—a perfect mixture of exhilaration and embarrassment. You glanced at Robin and Steve, hoping they hadn't noticed your captivated state. They hadn't.
The two were still singing and enjoying the music, bouncing up and down as a guitar solo swept through the speakers. Worrying your lip between your teeth, you looked back at the stage, trying valiantly to refocus on the music. After a while, the guitar's pounding bass and electrifying energy were enough to pull you back into the moment.
You felt captivated, as though whatever dark spell he was weaving had fallen upon you, too. His performance was filled with raw emotion and a rebellious spirit, with the lyrics resonating with something deep inside you, echoing your desires, and enticing a wildness to spark in your veins.
You stole another glance at him, and his eyes again met yours. It was almost as if the universe had conspired to connect you two in a chaotic sea of people. With a sudden burst of courage you didn't think yourself capable of, you gave a bashful smile and lifted your hand, waving at him.
He saw and acknowledged you with a knowing smile, to your surprise and amusement. It felt like a dirty secret. You would swear that your face was on fire from how hard you were blushing, your fingers wringing together nervously at the front of your dress.
It seems silly. In fact, you knew it was silly, childish, and stupid.
You didn't know him, and he didn't know you. You knew the media's version of him—the stylised rockstar who'd grown up poor, defied the odds, and came out on top—the playboy who had a different girl every other week and who'd been caught having sex with fans in odd places. But what you'd felt, however brief, had ignited a fire in the pit of your stomach. You felt it smouldering as you were lost in the music and its wild energy.
The last guitar riff played, and the crowd erupted into thunderous applause. You expected the crowd to thin down now that the show was finished, but they remained, hooting and hollering, vying for his attention.
"He was incredible!" You shouted as you turned to Steve, straining to be heard above the crowd. He gave you a funny expression and tilted his head to the side, causing a stir of hair to fall into his face.
"What?"
"I said," you shouted while moving closer to him. "That was incredible!"
This time, he heard you, chuckling under his breath and holding you in place when you tried to slip through the crowd. And then you saw Eddie standing at the edge of the stage, a security guard at his side. You could see they were talking, now if only you'd learned to read lips. Except you didn't need to read lips to know he was pointing right at the three of you.
Your heart stopped mid-beat, your mouth running dry, as a second security guard approached the three of you. From where you were frozen in time, you didn't see Steve and Robin grinning at each other or the glint in their eyes.
You were star-struck, staring at the security guard as if he'd grown a second head. And he might as well have because things like this didn't happen. Maybe it happened in the movies, but not real life and you weren't some perfectly poised beauty. You were a real woman with feelings; they were all over the place right now.
You grabbed Steve's arm when he stepped away, pulling him to a stop. He looked down at you with a furrowed brow. "What the hell is going on?" you hissed at him, not angry but entirely surprised and uncertain. He gave you a dashing and daring smile.
"Think he just invited us backstage."
"What?"
You'd tried to convince yourself that this was a wild dream. You even pinched yourself—twice. Things like this didn't happen to ordinary people, especially people like you. The shy woman who had to have a drink in her hand, the woman who took sips to fill the silence when talking became overwhelming, the woman who stammered and blushed with little more than a wink from a handsome man.
But it was happening. And now there you were, backstage, with Steve and Robin at your side, staring at a door with the band's name written in block letters. You could hear people milling about inside.
The security guard knocked, and you heard the muffled sound of movement, followed by something being knocked over and a chorus of laughter. Finally, the door was hauled open.
"Eddie!"
Robin's outburst startled you. She pushed past you and Steve, then the security guard, and threw herself at the man. You gawked at them, eyes wide as your soul burst to life, heart skipping several beats when he spun her in a circle. Robin's feet didn't touch the ground as they laughed.
You couldn't believe it.
There, standing not even five feet away, was the lead singer of Corroded Coffin, Eddie-fucking-Munson—the very same man you'd been eye-fucking on stage not even an hour ago. A part of you wanted the ground to open wide and swallow you whole. Another part screamed at you to cling to him as Robin had done.
"Hey," Steve whispered, leaning slightly closer to your ear. "Are you doing okay? You look like you've seen a ghost or something."
"What?" You replied, your voice rising an octave in panic. Your gaze whirled between Steve and the duo, who seemed oblivious to your presence, and then back again. "Yes, well, no! You didn't tell me you knew him!"
"Who? Eddie?" He asked.
"That guy, right there, the famous guy hugging our friend?" You were incredulous, your arm flailing in their direction, much to Robin's amusement and Eddie's confusion. "Yes, him! You two know him?"
"What about Eddie?"
The sudden appearance of his voice made you squeak in surprise. His voice was dark, deep, and delectable, like chocolate, and hoarse. It felt like liquid heat pouring down your spine, flooding every intersecting bone until you trembled. Eddie smiled, and his cheeks dimpled in a way that had you blushing wildly.
You stared as Steve and Eddie swept each other into a bear hug, slapping each other on the back and again on the arm as they came apart. Robin gave you a playful poke in the side, bringing your attention back to her.
"What about Eddie?" She asked, which inevitably brought all of their attention to you. You shifted beneath the weight of their combined stare. Your eyes found Eddie's, and you looked away quickly.
"Yeah, what about Eddie, girl?" He playfully added.
"Nothing! It's just that—um—well, I didn't know you—uh—that they knew you. That's all." You say, stumbling over the words like an awkward teenager. You mentally kicked yourself, but in truth, you'd never been good at talking to people. You'd always been a little shy, and everyone made fun of you before Steve and Robin slowly started coaxing you out of your shell.
And it wasn't as though he knew you. He probably hadn't seen you in the crowd. Now that you think about it, Eddie was just as likely to be smiling at them, not you, when he was on stage. But that didn't do anything to pull the blush out of your face or stop the way you shuffled under the gaze of the trio.
"Oh, yeah," Eddie said with an awkward laugh, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. Your eyes went a little buggy when his shirt rode up, revealing that trail of hair that disappeared into the band of his jeans.
You looked away quickly before he could catch you staring, finding something on the wall that suddenly fascinated you. He didn't notice, or at least didn't say anything if he did. "Yeah, yeah, the three of us went to high school together. It seems like a lifetime ago."
Robin stared at him, her expression incredulous. "It was, like, five years ago, Eds. Don't you dare make me older than I am!" She said as the back of her hand connected with his stomach. Eddie huffed as he doubled over dramatically, clutching his stomach and coughing as though she'd just punched the air from his lungs. You laughed despite yourself, momentarily drawing his attention to you; he flashed you a dazzling smile before hustling the three of you inside.
It would have been spacious inside the room if it wasn't filled with boxes of merchandise, band equipment, and the rest of the band. The little composure you'd managed to hold onto disappeared when Steve and Robin rushed inside, similarly greeting the others, hugging and laughing like old friends.
You lingered at the door, unsure what to do with yourself, when you felt a hand against the small of your back, fingertips tapping just above the curve of your ass, high enough to be respectful but low enough to send a delicious shiver down your spine.
"Come on, sweetheart. They don't bite," Eddie said with a laugh before leaning down to whisper in your ear. You felt his breath against your neck, the warmth of it making you shiver as he caught a glimpse of your cleavage before you hugged your cardigan around yourself.
"Well, I might," he added. "If you ask nicely."
He didn't wait to see your reaction, but from the beaming smile plastered on his face, he'd heard your squeak of surprise. Instead, Eddie flounced into the room, joining Steve, Robin, and the others as you followed.
Once official introductions were made, you sat at the end of one of the couches next to Eddie, who seemed entirely unaware of your nervous inner turmoil. Occasionally, his thigh brushed against yours, jostling you in his excitable state as the group recalled their high school years.
"You were quite the ladies' man in high school, Steve. Don't act bashful now," the drummer, Gareth, said with a booming laugh. You found yourself smiling and laughing with him, amused by the way Steve rubbed at the back of his neck and tried to deflect.
"I remember Robin telling me that the girls used to call him King Steve." You added. Gareth howled with laughter at how Steve flushed a deeper shade of pink. You smiled at him, pretty and sweet, but should have known he wouldn't let that slight go unanswered. You hardly had time to steel yourself before he returned fire.
"Hey now," he said, his smile positively devilish. "Don't start throwing shade if you can't handle the sun, sweets. Because I could tell some stories about you, too. Well, no, I couldn't. I don't think I've ever heard those bed springs squeak."
You choked on a mouthful of beer, coughing as you glared at him in horror. "Steven Joseph Harrington!" Your face burned at the revelation of a secret you'd shared with him one drunk and wild night. Using his full government name was enough for him to know he'd crossed a line, but the laughter of his friends encouraged him.
"I can't help it if that's the truth, you know," he said with a shrug.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Eddie shouted, shaking his hand wildly to get everyone's attention, especially yours. You squirmed in your seat, pushing yourself hard against the arm of the couch to try and escape his intense stare when he rounded on you.
"Never? As in never, ever?"
At that moment, you wanted the ground to open wide and swallow you. It wasn't that you were embarrassed to be a virgin, but the attention made you uncomfortable. You'd never been the type of woman to want a one-night stand with a stranger. Steve had offered once when you'd both been drunk and confessing secrets, but you'd never felt the itch.
And it wasn't that you considered your virginity to be a cherished and sacred part of yourself. But you'd never wanted to be that vulnerable with someone unless you trusted them entirely.
"Bullshit." Eddie spat, not nasty, but disbelieving. "You've gotta be shitting me. A pretty thing like you hasn't ever had sex? I know you're lying."
You stared at your hands resting in your lap, fingers wringing the hem of your dress until the stitching threatened to fray. From across the room, you heard the vague sound of Robin talking, mumbling something about you being as ripe as a cherry. She purposely popped her lips, and you wanted to die.
"Jesus Christ," you managed to choke out. "Yes, okay, I'm a total virgin. Can we talk about something else, please?"
The universe appeared to take mercy on you because the conversation changed topics at breakneck speed. One moment, Eddie was gawking at you; the next, he was focused entirely upon Jeff, who'd bought up something called the Hellfire Club. You took the opportunity to down the rest of your beer, letting the flavour of it wash away the taste of embarrassed tears.
The night went on in relative peace. You drank with them, listening to their wild stories of high school shenanigans and offering your own when prompted. You hadn't realised how much time had passed until you glanced at your watch and gawked: two in the morning.
"So, never?" Eddie asked without warning, his voice soft and almost innocent, breaking the silence that had blossomed within the room. You pulled your cardigan around your shoulders as though the thin material could shield you from his gaze. The others had fallen asleep, either drunk or high or just beyond exhausted. It was just the two of you.
Just you and Eddie.
"Look," you said with a sigh, your face burning again. "I really don't want to talk about that."
He held his hands in the universal sign of hold up. "I'm not judging you, sweetheart. I'm just curious. A pretty thing like you has to have a trail of broken hearts behind her."
You laughed despite yourself and relaxed back onto the couch, enjoying the warmth radiating from him. He was so close that you could see the way his Adam's apple bobbed with each swallow, the way he traced his lips with the tip of his tongue, the way the fabric of his jeans stretched across his lap, the bulge there. . .
You snapped your head away when he caught your staring.
"It's not like that. I've had boyfriends. I've just never felt comfortable doing anything with them. Not that they were bad people. I didn't want to do it because everyone was doing it. Then I got busy, and dating stopped happening. You understand? Of course you do. You're famous; I doubt you have much time for dating. Not that anyone wouldn't want to date you."
You were rambling, the words falling from your lips like verbal vomit, and you couldn't stop. Eddie silenced you, moving without warning to close the distance lingering between the two of you. He grabbed you by the back of the neck, his fingers rough and warm, pulling you into the wall of his chest so that he could slot his mouth against yours.
Eddie Munson tasted like cigarette smoke and alcohol, dark desire wrapped in leather. Eddie Munson smelled like adrenaline and sex, a woman's wet dream. Before you knew what you were doing, you kissed him back, desperate for more.
Eddie led you into an adjacent room, his fingers enveloping yours, providing a comforting anchor. The soft snores of the others faded into a distant hum as he closed the door. Your gaze traced the contours of his back, the curve of his shoulders, the way his studded jacket draped over them, the weight of his chunky black boots and the ruggedness of his ripped jeans. The belt cinched around his narrow waist, crowned with a buckle shaped like a bat, adding a touch of mystery to his rugged charm.
He turned abruptly, his hand slamming against the door beside your head, eliciting a startled yelp from you. Eddie pressed against you, your hands instinctively clutching the fabric of his shirt. Caught between the desire to pull him closer and the instinct to push him away, you found yourself staring at him with wide, uncertain eyes. Your heart pounded against its ivory prison, the uncertainty of the moment adding to its frantic beat.
"E—Eddie?" You managed to stammer his name, your voice impossibly quiet, overflowing with uncertainty and a mix of fear and desire. He didn't seem to mind. He smiled at you, his breath washing over your mouth and nose like a sweet rum, leaving you light-headed. You squeezed your thighs together as tight as you could, desperate to stifle the growing heat at your core.
He felt it, your nervous shifting and the wild beating of your heart as he cruised a hand along your body, from your hip and then over your breast to clutch the back of your neck. He rubbed his thumb over your racing pulse. "Has anyone ever kissed you like this before? Pushed you against a wall, touched you, told you how beautiful you are?"
Your face burned. Eddie knew that you'd been kissed before; you'd told him as much. But you'd also told him you were a virgin. At twenty-four, you'd almost grown out of being embarrassed by the fact.
"No," you answered in a low exhale, trying to duck your head to avoid his smouldering stare. His eyes were blown with lust, almost black as coal, as he pushed his thumb against your chin, forcing you to look at him.
He leaned in closer, the feel of him like a weighted blanket on your chest, making it harder to breathe but in a pleasant way. It made your head fuzzy, like floating in a beautiful daydream, except his lips ghosted over yours. The faintest of touches had reality snapping into place around you.
"Never, ever?" Eddie whispered, his lips brushing, tugging, teasing yours. He was so close that he'd invaded all your senses until all you saw, heard, and breathed was him. He held fast when he wanted to move. Eddie waited for someone to give in to desire and bring the other into the flames. He wanted and needed it to be you.
The tiny whimper you made shot through him, racing through his blood like a bolt of electricity until his cock throbbed. And then you took the plunge, a hand at the back of his neck, the other hauling him in by that pretty studded jacket so you could brush your mouth against his.
It was all he needed—a silent confession, unspoken permission.
Eddie pushed against you until you felt the studs of his leather jacket and his dangling chains pressing into you through your clothing, your dress suddenly restrictive and in the way. His hands were everywhere, cupping your face, running through your hair. And then he dropped to his knees with a thud, pressing kisses down your stomach, leaving wet marks against the fabric of your dress as he ran his hands up the backs of your legs.
"No one ever touched you like this?"
You felt like you were going up in flames. His touch was fire licking your skin, beautiful and pure, leaving you trembling. His hands moved up the back of your thighs, and when his mouth found your belly button, tongue swirling once, then twice, you grabbed him by the shoulders to steady yourself.
"Words, sweet girl. I need you to answer," he said in a husky tone, pinching the back of your thigh to bring you out of your mind and into the moment. He looked at you from beneath his impossibly dark lashes, his eyes dark, twinkling with mischief.
"Never," you managed to gasp when his hands began drifting high, pushing your dress up until he could bunch it at your hips. And then he was face-to-face with your panties, groaning dramatically, making a sound that would make a pornstar blush.
"Have mercy," Eddie moaned, his breath hot against your mound even through the barrier of clothing. His eyes moved back to yours, and you flushed with embarrassment. He was staring at you like he wanted to devour you. "Even your fucking panties are adorable. That little bow? I'm going to take my time unwrapping this present."
Yet, despite this admission, he didn't take his time.
His mouth landed on your clothed cunt without a preamble. Your knees shook and threatened to give out as he worked his tongue against the wet fabric, tasting your arousal and letting it slide down his throat like a fine wine. Eddie found that virgins were quick to get wet. His calloused fingers kneaded the globes of your arse, pulling you closer, his talented tongue pushing your panties into your slit so he could tease your clit with gentle licks.
You bit your knuckles to stifle the sounds of your moans as pleasure snaked through your veins, creeping through your bloodstream until you broke into a sweat.
"Put your hands in my hair," he demanded with a rough voice, and like a mindless fool, you complied. His hair was a mess of wild curls that you pulled on, sinking your fingers deep into his plush locks when he started to work your panties down your thighs. "Good girl."
"Oh god." As the fabric pooled at your ankles, your head hit the door with a soft thud. You were like putty in his hands—willing to walk through the fires of hell if it meant he'd keep touching you. Eddie freed one of your ankles and threw your leg over his shoulder, bringing you closer.
Words could not describe the feeling of his tongue against your slick folds or the sensation of the tip flicking against your clit. It was like lightning arched through the sky to melt the skin from your bones. You were burning up. And he'd lit the match.
Eddie was loud and messy, lewd. The sounds that clawed up his throat were pornographic. Each wet schlick of his mouth was accompanied by a throaty moan as he sucked your clit and teased your throbbing hole with the tip of his tongue.
It was an out-of-body experience—you never realised you could feel this good. Eddie held you by the back of the thighs, his grip firm, pulling you onto his tongue until your flesh goosepipmpled beneath his touch. You could have collapsed when he withdrew, a line of saliva connecting the tip of his tongue to your clit.
"Words, pretty girl. You gotta use them, or I'm going to stop."
You whined desperately, weaving your fingers deeper into his wild hair. "Please don't stop, Eddie. . ."
"Then talk to me. Let me hear those pretty sounds."
He waited only a moment, his dark eyes staring into yours with the intensity of the sun. He took in your flushed cheeks and shallow breaths that made your chest heave. Then he resumed his meal. The sound you made in response was embarrassing—at least, it should have been. You should have wanted the ground to split open and swallow you. But you didn't.
"It's good," you choked out, squeezing your eyes shut as he ran the flat of his tongue along your slit, the tip flicking your clit in a delicious way that made your hips twitch; forward, then back, like you wanted him to eat you alive but also to escape.
The feeling was exquisite—like nothing you had ever felt—knocking the air from your lungs, making the muscles in your legs tense and your core weep. Your whole body jerked under his tongue, a shiver shaking your spine, your bones turning to jelly as he licked and sucked your drenched cunt. "Oh god. . . I think. . . I—I'm close."
You'd had orgasms before, but nothing quite like this. It was a slow build, each swipe of Eddie's tongue amplifying the pressure between your hips, sending jolts of electricity through your veins until your nerves crackled and popped. It was difficult to describe; you could taste the words on the tip of your tongue, but they melted away with each moan he drew from your lips.
And then it spread out through your body, a searing warmth that threatened once more to melt the skin from your bones.
"You're so wet, sweetness, m'fucking drowning here," Eddie said. Even though his words were vulgar, the low growl with which he spoke sent you tumbling down the other side of pleasure. The first wave zinged through you, knocking the air from your lungs and sparking every one of your nerves to life.
You bit your knuckles hard until you tasted blood, but the flavour was quickly lost as the second wave seared through your limbs. Eddie didn't stop—not once. Each swipe of his tongue against your clit, each push of it into your virginal hole, sent wisps of fire shooting through your veins, adding stars and galaxies bursting to life behind your scrunched-shut eyes.
When you returned to earth, you found yourself trembling, his strong hands the pillars that kept you upright. Eddie kissed his way back up your body, slowly working your dress up as he went until he could pull it over your head. He threw it over his shoulder, the fabric a distant memory as it hit the ground, lost and now forgotten.
"No one ever made you cum before, have they?" He whispered, his breath hot, his smirk feral, as he teased his lips along the slope of your neck. You whined when your bare cunt rubbed against his dark denim jeans, the rough drag of the rips and tears against your lips sending you hurtling toward the sky once more.
"No," you managed to say before catching his mouth for a wild, clumsy kiss. Eddie happily obliged, pushing his tongue into your mouth and licking your teeth so you tasted yourself.
"Touch me. . ."
"What do good girls say?"
"Please."
You would die if he didn't touch you in the next three seconds. You would collapse to the ground, melt into a puddle at his feet, and literally die.
Thankfully, he took pity on you.
Eddie kissed you deeply, with the fire of a thousand suns; his hot breath stole through your lungs when he swallowed your moans, leaving you on the verge of combustion. You felt lost in him, touching him here, there, and everywhere as you tried to strip him. Eddie didn't let you. He grabbed your wrists and held them at the small of your back, and he moved you both across the room.
Your lips never once parted. The moment was composed of hot breaths, searing kisses, and teasing bites, weakening your knees terribly. Eddie fell back into a high chair in front of the make-up mirrors. You were desperate to climb into his lap, to wind your legs around him and leech the warmth from his chest, but instead, he turned you and pulled you into his lap, back to chest.
"Eddie," you whispered his name in a sigh, heady with desire. "I want more. . ."
He pressed a kiss against the shell of your ear, smiling in response. His lips were wet, his mouth wanting as he lowered it to your next, sucking a mark into your plush skin. "Open your eyes, sweetness."
Eddie hooked your knees over his thighs, spreading you open and exposing you to the mirror. The tips of his fingers ghosted along the crease of your inner thigh, making your breath hitch in anticipation. "You're beautiful," he said with a hum, nuzzling his nose into your hair. You caught his eyes in the reflection and saw the stark desire that had turned his pupils black, the hunger.
And you saw the expression mirrored in your own reflection. Your skin was flushed the subtlest shade of pink, pussy glistening with arousal. Eddie honestly thought you were the prettiest thing he'd ever fucking seen; so sweet, so innocent.
The stretch of his thick fingers was immediately exquisite, the slick of your arousal coating them entirely. Eddie watched the mirror, transfixed by the way it dropped from around his fingers, sliding down the curve of your ass to darken his denim jeans.
He felt you clench around him, tension seeping through your body as the pain collided with pleasure, twisting through your veins like snakes, intertwined, threatening to consume you from the inside out. You cried out when he crooked them, hips rising in search of more; his other hand cruised up your body, the soft swell of your stomach, cupping a tit in the palm of his hand, thumb teasing your nipple into a hardened peak.
Eddie growled against your neck. He was as hard as a rock, and each jolt of your hips had your arse rutting against his aching cock. You reached back to grab his hair, winding your fingers through his wild curls as the pleasure mounted. You were a guitar, and he had years of practice. He watched the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way you couldn't sit still as he fucked his fingers in and out of your cunt, the way you clawed at his jeans.
You put a hand over your mouth to stifle the way you moan, loud, wantonly, like a whore. You felt dirty—like this was a scandalous secret. The thought of being found was erotically terrifying.
"You getting close, sweetness?" Eddie asked; no, he growled the words against your neck, teeth clipping the sensitive skin. "I can feel it. You're squeezing my fingers so fucking tight. Are you thinking about my cock? How much better it'll feel than my fingers?"
As though to emphasise his words, his thrust against you, his erection hard against the globes of your arse, leaving him moaning as his own muscles twisted with desire, pure liquid heat pouring through his bones.
"Cum for me, baby."
He wasn't asking; no, he was demanding.
tag list ::
@micheledawn1975 | @maxstecc
—interest in being tagged in future chapters? send me a message!
#eddie munson#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson fanfiction#eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x you#rockstar!eddie x innocent!reader#call me little sunshine#call me little sunshine - part one
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mechanic ex-boyfriend simon riley
notes & warnings: the used pictures are only for aesthetic purposes, reader is not physically described in this. AGELESS BLOGS AND MINORS DNI this is an 18+ only blog. a significant age gap between simon & reader is implied but the actual number is never mentioned. if i missed anything please lmk:)
this is a completely unedited little something i wrote at 4am
reader who never fell out of love mechanic ex-boyfriend simon
you still recommend your ex-boyfriend’s garage to your friends (especially any vulnerable women) because despite your failed relationship, you’ve never met someone as trustworthy and reliable as simon
you and mechanic simon who met when you’d found a used car you wanted to purchase and wanted to have it independently inspected
reader who found this older, ruggedly handsome, stoic and yet professional mechanic who seemed to know his shit. despite the terrifying skull design resting next to his shop’s name, you trusted him immediately
not only did he inspect the car for you, but he also helped bring down its price and performed any necessary repairs at a huge discount (he never told you about this, you eventually figured it out on your own)
despite the obvious crush, he was very reluctant to pursue anything with you. not only were you his client and trusted him not to make things weird, but you were also so much younger and he felt like an old dog who was beyond learning any new tricks
you should’ve taken his warning from the beginning as he had predicted the downfall of your relationship before it’d even began
reader whose car has been acting weird for the past couple of months so you begrudgingly take it to simon’s shop
you’d actually tried taking it to some new garage in town, but had a feeling you were being lied to and overcharged when the sleazy mechanic barely spent an hour on it and said it was back like new
mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who doesn’t even need 5 minutes to tell you it’s on its last leg. despite his stoic demeanor, he’s actually concerned by how you’ve been driving such a vehicle in such an unsafe state
mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who starts asking till he finds a car within your budget. one he inspects himself to make sure his baby not anymore doesn’t end up dead in a ditch somewhere because of faulty brakes
the fucker was ready to buy it himself, but knew you’d never accept his money (especially not after the harsh parting words you’d left each other with during your last fight)
mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who’ll never love anyone more than you, but still isn’t willing to repair the broken bond between you two
mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who still uses o’keeffe’s working hands cream every day cause you used to always rub it on his hands, swearing his calloused skin would soon feel like a baby’s butt (and of course you were right). he tries to mimic the way you’d gently work it into his damaged skin as the only thing he had left from you now were memories
mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who never really tries to move on from you despite his apprentice’s attempts to set him up with multiple people (what’s the point of you for something he’s already found)
mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who went through the army and came out even more damaged after a stint in prison. he believes nothing good will come out of such a sweet thing so full of life being chained to a grumpy old man like him
mechanic ex-boyfriend simon who despite thinking all of that can’t accept the thought of you being with someone other than him
WHEW the is the first time i've written in YEARS (and i probably won't write anything for another good 5 years fjkdsw). hope you enjoyed this as much as i did!! this au idea has been rotting my brain for the past few days and i just had to let it out. feel free to dm me, leave a comment or send an ask about this au. dividers made by @anitalenia ✨
#mechanic ex-bf!simon#simon riley x reader#simon riley#ghost x reader#ghost#ghost x you#cod imagine#cod x reader#cod#call of duty x reader#call of duty#modern warfare#modern warefare ii#simon riley imagine#ghost imagine#ghost mw2#sam's cod fics
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I’m muslim but I’m upset with the free Palestine movement especially as a woman. they are only making it worse for Muslim women subject to governments which are misusing the teachings of the Quran. they do not care even about Uyghur or Rohingya Muslims
I'm a day late, but I hope it's still okay to wish you Jumaat Mubaraka, lovely Nonnie! *hugs*
I feel you. A few years ago, I took a course and ended up becoming friends with the lady who happened to choose the seat next to me. She's a Muslim Israeli Arab woman. She had the audacity of divorcing her husband. She has a son who came out as gay, and she had the audacity to accept him as he is. Under Hamas or the Palestinian Authority's rule, she could be severely punished socially for either. Worse, her son would likely be terrified for his life, and might have ended up like one of my gay Palestinian friends, who have been forced into heterosexual marriages because the threat to their lives was so great. Instead, her son lives in Tel Aviv, is openly gay, and is an advocate for both the State of Israel and gay Israeli Arabs and Palestinians. She's an advocate for the State of Israel and Israeli Arab Muslim women. She gets to speak and be heard because she's an Israeli citizen. And it's not by chance that she is one. Her family made a choice in 1948, to stand by the Jews, rather than join the Arab attack on them. She once opened the Quran, showed me a specific surah, and told me, "This is why I know that as a Muslim, I must love the Jews, and stand by their state."
She has her own agency in choosing her position on the State of Israel, she has her well being, her son's, and that of many other Israeli Muslim Arab women and gay people to consider, and the anti-Israel crowd doesn't care about any of that. She's just an obstacle standing in the way of the narrative they've chosen, she shows reality is more complex than the black and white framing they embraced, which allows them to openly hate Jews while inflating their own egos, as if they're being righteous.
Not to mention coming up with ridiculous stuff like, "Palestinian men beat their wives because of the Israeli occupation!" This is honestly one of the dumbest things I've ever heard, only topped by "Israel is using cow/dolphin spies." But think of the practical implication. It means as long as Israel exists, no one's gonna hold Palestinian men accountable for the violence they're committing against their own wives. It's a betrayal of Palestinian women, all supposedly in the name of helping Palestinian nationalism.
youtube
(on top of the criticism voiced by UN Watch, it's insane how one of the speakers blaming domestic violence against Palestinian women on Israel is the UN representative of "Etat de Palestine," state of Palestine... What an easy way to avoid a state's duty to protect the women living under its rule from any and all violence, including domestic! If you're an independent state, and deserve recognition from the world, then you also have the responsibility to tackle domestic violence. If you're not independent, then why are you demanding to be recognized as such?)
And yes, the lack of care for actual Israeli Arabs and Palestinians is what I often talk about, but you're right that the damage caused by the anti-Israel crowd is bigger than just to Jews, Israeli Arabs, and Palestinians. Holding up an Islamist cause, backing up the Islamist movement and showing them how the west can be easily won, this will only serve to harm more people. Including Muslims who are more vulnerable to human rights abuses, like women and gay people.
In the vid above, as another example, the UN Watch speaker asks the UN to compare the data on domestic violence suffered by Palestinian women, to that suffered by Jordanian, Lebanese, Egyptian women and so on... Maybe if they couldn't use Israel as their punching bag, they'd have to look at domestic violence against women in the whole region, and actually do something about it. But nah, it's easier to write off Israel as the guilty party when it comes to Palestinian domestic violence, and pretend like that's the only place in the entire Middle East where this violence stands out as an issue. And that's before we talk about observing the levels of anti-women violence in non-Arab Muslim countries, such as Iran, where the government itself has imprisoned and even killed women for not wearing a hijab correctly. This is a betrayal of Muslim women at large.
And in addition to all that, like you said, this crowd also doesn't give a shit about the Muslims being persecuted in any conflict that doesn't allow the blame to be laid on the 'evil Jews.' Even when the numbers targeted are much greater, and the scope of abuse far more severe.
Thank you for the ask, and I hope you're okay! I hope the world cares more about Muslim women, rather than posturing as if it does, but only when it can be used against Jews. xoxox
(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)
#israel#antisemitism#israeli#israel news#israel under attack#israel under fire#terrorism#anti terrorism#hamas#antisemitic#antisemites#jews#jew#judaism#jumblr#frumblr#jewish#israelunderattack#ask#anon ask
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[BAD DECISION #17] Jeon Jungkook
warnings: WELL WELL WELL. mentions of the red witch. post-gym kook. questionable conversations that shouldn't happen between friends, totally normal touching of genitals to prove points in aforementioned conversations, kitchen escapades, whiny koo <3 titty worship, spanking, titty sucking, fingering, a lil mutual masturbation, cockwarming (or at least an attempt!), unprotected sex, jk on top, the starluvrs are bad at maths!, multiple positions (prone bone my beloved <3), he finishes on her back, lovely stuff!! just friendly tho!
a/n: the header image is another lost relic, but this time i can't even remember the base photo </3
soundtrack: just a little bit - enhypen
wc: 11.2k
bd total wc: 540k (ongoing)
AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI
The soft cotton duvet cover on Jeongguk's bed welcomes you back far more warmly than it really should do; like a 'hi, honey, welcome home' , or an 'I've missed you'.
It's fitting that the inanimate objects of his room carry such benevolence, when he himself is an open log fire on a winter's night. Warm, warm, warm is Jeon Jeongguk, and you've been cold, cold, cold for so long that the sudden heat is almost jarring.
That's how you justify the obscure feeling in the pit of your stomach when Jeongguk starts talking about blind dates, and how he always wanted to go on one when he was younger.
He reckons that the only reason that he hadn't was because he's 'a simple man of simple pleasures'.
The hoops he needed to jump through to get a blind date - quite simply just asking someone to set it up for him - had been too challenging. You've alleviated that stress for him.
"See," you smile, folding his bird back up and tossing it over to him. You're both on his bed, staring up at the flock of birds still soaring above you, just out of reach. "We're fulfilling a childhood dream. You are getting something out of this whole deal."
You don't look at him, but you know he rolls his eyes and smiles when he does so. "Never said I wasn't, Disco Ball."
He's met with silence as you glance over at him. It's not an unwelcome nickname, but it's one he doesn't use too often these days. Always calls you Byeol.
"What?" he asks and he turns to face you when you don't reply, but you say nothing.
The more you let it simmer, the worse it gets. He's not called you Disco Ball in so long. Part of you thinks he's reducing your friendship. Addressing you like he did when he didn't know you too well. Creating distance. Forming space on a featherdown quilt that draws you both in like quicksand. He'll have to try harder if a wider margin is what he's after.
It's stupid, 'cause you know the name comes from a place of affection, but it makes you feel insecure.
"We'll still be friends, right?" You ask a little quietly. Jeongguk's brows grow taut, a slight frown forming on his features. Doesn't understand where such a question has come from. "If you get a girlfriend, I mean? We can still be friends?"
Jeongguk's skin is hot. Prickly. An automatic response to discomfort - but then his lips soften into a kind smile. Despite the offence that could be taken from you asking such a question - thinking so little of him - he's not naive to the way in which you work. He understands. People you've loved have left when things got inconvenient for them. He's been through it, too.
And so the walls that want to come up in defence are kept at bay. He doesn't let them rise. Instead, he meets you at the shores.
"Yoongi invited you to dinner," he nudges your shoulder. "Tae is practically in love with you for all the help you've given him. Dionysus relies on you drinking the bar dry every other weekend to keep it afloat. We couldn't stop being friends even if we tried."
His answer should satisfy you, yet your mind is marred by the same thought repeating over and over: Hayun probably used to get invited to dinner, too.
You aren't naive. You know his friends are just as kind as he is. They'd have welcomed anyone Jeongguk deemed important into their social circle.
"What about Hayun?"
Jeongguk frowns. "What about her?"
"Well," you say slowly, looking back up towards the birds, not wanting to watch his reaction unfold on his features like a letter of commiseration.
Before you can even articulate a reply, Jeongguk stops you.
"Don't. It's not the same. Hayun... That situation was different. Things were different. Plus, she's still my friend. Our friend. All of us. She just lives in a different city, that's all. The only reason she isn't around is because of proximity. We're still friends. Just like you and me are still gonna be friends. We've no reason not to be."
The situation is different. You're well aware of this. You've known Jeongguk for all of five minutes; she was a much more permanent fixture in his life. They had a history that you wouldn't even be able to comprehend; private jokes, and stolen moments when they thought their friends wouldn't notice. Their friends. Not just Jeongguk's.
She'd been as much a part of the friendship group as Jeongguk had been; the only difference was that she'd moved away. If she hadn't, would there even be space for you in their lives? Would Seoyeon be desperate for there to be another girl around? Would Jeongguk have felt just as fondly towards you? Would he have noticed your disco ball eyes in the dark of Dionysus or would he have been too busy searching for her in a crowded room?
Or would the time spent on you be spent on her instead?
The thought is unpleasant. It weaves its way through your bloodstream like a needle with dark red string threaded through its loop. It scratches and stabs at your insides until it breaks through the flesh of your bottom lip. Sews your mouth shut. Stops you from talking; from screaming how unfair you think it is that you're being equated to someone who destroyed him.
You don't think she deserves to be thought fondly of, but if Jeongguk knew that, you'd be the one he thinks negatively of. He leapt to her defence without you even starting an attack.
"Friends don't hurt their friends," you say quietly.
Life doesn't work that way. People hurt the ones they care about all the time - or at least you use that reasoning to comfort yourself whenever Seokjin shows up just to let you down.
"She didn't mean to," he replies. "I'm the one who caught feelings. I'm the one who misread things. She stayed the same. My hurt? It's on me, Byeol."
There's a sincerity to his voice that absolves her of blame; makes her innocent in whatever transpired between the pair of them. You know that you only have Jeongguk's side of the story, and even that is sparse and limited due to his reluctance to talk about it in any great depth, but you feel like you don't need to hear her side. He got hurt. That's enough. Your mind is made up.
Hearing him defend her so freely unnerves you. The feeling crawls beneath your skin and gnaws at your flesh. Reduces you to skin and bone.
You're silent, because you know that anything you do say will come across as mean, or as if you dislike a girl you've never met. It'd only make Jeongguk defend her more and like you less. You don't want that - as if Jeongguk wouldn't rip Seokjin to shreds at any given opportunity.
Trouble is, you can't blame him. Jeongguk has seen the impact first-hand. Wiped away tears caused by the man himself.
Hayun is just an enigma; a name rarely said, but often felt.
"What's gotten into you?" Jeongguk smiles, trying to downplay the heaviness of the atmosphere that's engulfing you both. "You're forgetting how annoying I am. You'd probably be thankful if we stopped being friends."
Though he's just teasing, you're worried that he does think that of himself. You don't want to be soppy though, so instead, you use one of his most often said phrases against him.
"I think if we stopped being friends I would simply die."
It earns a laugh. He nudges your shoulder. Tells you that you really gotta stop stealing his catchphrases and the things he does.
"Oh fuck off," you laugh. "What else have I stolen?"
A whole host of things.
"The mirror thing," is all he says, noticing your confusion immediately. He reaches over and tenderly clasps your chin. Doesn't notice the tiny gasp that gets caught in your throat - or if he does, he doesn't mention it. Turns your head, so that you're looking at him, and says " 'watch'. "
You close your eyes and smile. Nod. "Ah. That. The mirror thing. "
"See," he smirks, not that you can see. Your eyes are still closed and they'll remain that way until you decide you're no longer embarrassed. "Told you that you copy me."
"I don't copy," you smirk right back, despite your firmly shut eyes. Jeongguk likes the glitter you're wearing today. It's golden-hued. "Just a fast learner."
"Oh yeah?" he says, a laugh catching in his throat. "Watcha learnt about me?"
You whisper now, a little smug. "That you really like mirrors."
"Yeah," he concedes far more quickly than you expected him to. He turns his focus back to the birds on his ceiling, though you think he's gotten a little closer to you. "Yeah, you're right about that - but you know why I like them?"
"Pray tell," you grin, vaguely aware of the fact the conversation feels far more flirty than it really should.
"You do this thing," Jeongguk says, as a hand rests by his crotch. He's not hard, but he is a little firmer than he should be.
It's just cause he's thinking about sex. Thinking about the sound of it. The sound of you . The sight of it. Of you . The scent of it. You . Not the taste, 'cause you've not given him the luxury of that yet. He doesn't really register the fact he's pressing down on himself. Gripping. Feeling .
"It's that first look," he continues, voice dulcet. "It's like you can't register what you're seeing. Your eyes go all wide, and you look at me as if you're too nervous to look anywhere else. Dunno. Lets me know how much you like what I do. Bit of a power trip, I guess. Always gets me."
"Gets you what?"
"Hard."
The declaration is so brash that you can't help but giggle. "You hard now?"
"Thinking about it isn't the same as seeing it," Jeongguk admits, turning his head towards you - but your eyes are still closed, a smile plastered all over your face. He finds himself smiling, too.
"But I mean..." He toys with your hand. Draws it to the top of his thighs. Gives you the chance to pull away. You don't. "Feel for yourself."
You whisper his name.
He whispers right back. "What?"
"You know what," you tell him, as if your palm isn't right where he left it, and as if your grip isn't as firm as his cock.
"What?" he teases again, feigning indifference - and then he fucking tenses. Moves his hips. Pushes up into your palm. "It's just anatomy, B. Nothing new."
Maybe not, but that nickname? That feels new. Feels like the opposite of him calling you disco ball earlier. Makes your breath hitch. Has him smirking as he looks at your lips. Bites down on his own. Knows this is trouble, but thinks he'd quite like to get in some.
See, you're the determined type. Once you set your mind to things, you do them. He's witnessed it first-hand multiple times. The second he mentioned the art cafe to Tae, he knew you'd make it happen. It's what you do.
And so he knows that you're setting him up that blind date whether he likes it or not. He knows you're gonna choose well for him. He knows, come this time next week, there'll probably be a moral complex that comes with the birds hanging above the pair of you.
But he's not ready for that. Not yet.
There's so much to do.
So many birds that haven't been set free.
A pleasant little hum vibrates in his throat as you palm the firmness beneath his sweats. His hips pulse. You daren't open your eyes - especially not as your thumb brushes against the waistband of his trousers. He hums again. Pushes his shoulders down into his mattress. Adjusts his body. Edges closer to you. Says nothing as your thumb sinks beneath the elastic of his sweats.
It doesn't go anywhere. You wait. His hips pulse.
"Swear you get off on torture," he purrs.
"You're the one who started this," you murmur, trying to feign indifference, knowing full well that if he mirrors your hand position, he'll feel just how easily he gets you all riled up. "You're a sadist."
He just smiles. Tells you he's no such thing.
And so you tell him to keep his eyes closed. Reach for his hand. Say, "Let's compare."
"Compare?" He husks, as if he doesn't know what you're doing.
"Mhmm," you hum, bringing his hand dangerously close to your pussy. "Compare. You're getting off on torture. Maybe I am, too."
"We shouldn't be doing this," Jeongguk says, and yet as you loosen your grip, he's the one who lets his hand trail up your thigh. He's the one who strokes at the fabric of your sweats. He's the one who cups your pussy with his hand.
The top you're wearing has risen up a little, a small sliver of your stomach exposed - and then his thumb is caressing against it.
His touch is warm, but the little gasp he does? The stutter of his breath? Oh, it's hot . So fucking hot.
"We're not doing anything," you say so sweetly that he'd believe it - or at least he would if it wasn't his own damn hand slipping into trousers. A breath hitches in your throat, and you can hear the ethereal way a laugh stutters in his throat.
"Just friendly, yeah?"
You nod. Whimper a pathetic confirmation - and then he's pressing against your underwear. Is slow as he rubs a single circular motion against you.
"The birds are judging us," he tells you.
"Nah," you shake your head. Take a shallow breath as he circles against you once more. "This is just revision."
"Revision?"
"Making sure we've learned from them. As long as - fuck ."
"You good there?" he teases, as if he didn't just up the speed for a moment.
You ignore his question and continue the point that was so rudely interrupted by his pacing. "As long as we only do things the birds have already told us to do, then I think it's okay."
The pair of you are silent save for your tepid breaths. Jeongguk's fingers caress against the lace of your underwear while you palm at his excruciatingly hard cock.
It's all rather juvenile, the way you're just touching each other up - and yet it's got your heartbeat racing. Perhaps it's because it's something so simple. Feels like there's so much more that could come of it. The great unknown: will you make Jeongguk cum? Or will you just blue ball him instead?
He really fucking hopes you'll choose the first option.
"Y'know," he says quietly. "I kinda need a shower."
It's not a lie. He freshened up at the gym, but didn't have a proper shower - didn't think he'd be taking such a long detour home.
"You wanna go shower?"
He nods. "Please."
It's laughable, really, the way neither of you says a word as he guides you to the bathroom. It's a regular occurrence at this point.
You glance across the open-plan living room as you make your way to the bathroom, and smile at the painting hanging up beside the television. Jeongguk follows your gaze and smirks.
"Think a future girlfriend would have an issue with that being up on the wall?"
"Maybe," you shrug. "You never have to tell her what is it, mind you. Never have to say it's... yanno."
"No I don't know, Byeol," he teases. Grips onto your shoulders to stop you from walking, and turns you to face it. Walks you both a little further into the sitting room area. Tilts his head, and you realise there's another bloody mirror in the corner of the room. You've never noticed it before. Wonder if he placed it there deliberately. "What is it?"
You narrow your eyes in the mirror. A smirk rests on his pretty lips and you can't help but bite down on yours when one of his hands creeps up your shirt. The bra you're wearing is lace; underwired but with unstructured cups. He squeezes. Fucking groans. "Shit."
"We shouldn't be doing this here," you tell him, well aware that Jimin could come home at any minute. Even going for a shower together is a risk.
Jeongguk shrugs. "Doesn't matter."
"What if Jimin-"
"If he comes home, he comes home," Jeongguk cuts you off as he continues playing with you beneath your shirt. He wants it off. Takes it off. Faces no opposition from you. Both of his hands cup at your chest, the black lace sin beneath his hands. Your heartbeat heaves in your chest, and it's only made worse when Jeongguk nudges his nose against your hair and whispers, "maybe I'll just show him how to make you cum."
You tell him he's mean. He squeezes harder. Makes you whimper. Tells you he can be mean if you really want him to be.
But you shake your head. "Play nicely."
It's not that you don't like things a little rough and tumble - it's just that if this is the last time, you know it needs to be intimate. How else will you be able to face your fears with other people if you never even let him?
One of his hands trails to the back of your bra, and gently unsnaps the clasp, before ridding you of the lace. As much as he liked it, he likes you bare better. Likes the way your pillowy breasts frame your nipples perfectly. Likes that the soft flesh spills through the gaps in his fingers. Likes how easy it is to get you whimpering as he rolls your nipples between his thumb and forefinger.
"Nice enough?" He husks.
"Nice," you nod, eyes closed, crown of your head tipping back to rest against the top of his chest. "God, Gguk. Think I'm obsessed with the way your hands feel."
The compliment makes his heart fucking race .
He watches in the mirror. Studies the way your lips part as he toys with you. Wants to kiss you so badly. Knows he can't. Fuck . Maybe he does get off on a little torture, but this is just inhumane to him. You can feel how hard he is as he presses into the small of your back. The curse and blessing of sweatpants.
You reach behind yourself to palm at his crotch, and are met with a nod of his head against yours.
"Fuck, B," he whines as you toy with the outline of his cock. "I gotta - fuck - I gotta do something with my mouth. Wanna kiss you too fuckin' bad."
He doesn't even mean to admit it, but now that he has, he feels a little shameless. If he can admit that, he can admit anything.
Maybe he'll tell you about the wet dream he had a few nights ago, and how he'd woken up to damp sheets and a ruined orgasm all because you'd made an unexpected appearance in his dream.
Maybe he'll tell you about the fact he hasn't watched porn in weeks. Just thinks of you, instead.
Maybe he'll tell you about the fleshlight hidden in the back of his bedside cabinet drawer, and how he can't use it anymore, 'cause it doesn't look like you do.
Doesn't look like you, doesn't feel like you, doesn't smell like you. Doesn't get him cumming like you do.
Actually, maybe he won't tell you about that last one - but he wants you to know.
Wants you to understand just how fucking sexy he thinks you are. Wants you to acknowledge that if he can get this wrecked over you, then there must be hundreds of other men out there just the same as him. You don't need to linger for so long on your ex.
There'll be another guy out there for you who doesn't make you feel like shit; who only ever wants to make you feel good. So good. So, so-
"Oh God, yeah," he whines as you finally slip your fingers beneath his waistband and into his trousers. His hips pulse, wanting more, more, more of you. "So fucking good."
"My lips," you husk as his fingers dig into your soft chest. The grip is tight. Needy. "They're off limits."
"Lips," he nods. Clenches his jaw as he tries to control his breathing. Swallows his nerves down. "And the rest of you?"
You open your eyes to find his already on you in the mirror. He's hungry. Wanting. Salivating. He looks fucking primal, as if he's fighting every instinct he has just to keep your boundaries respected. Makes you wanna break every single one of them down.
Turning your head ever so slightly, just so your nose can nudge against his, you realign your faces. His lips are pouty. Pink. Pretty. Perfectly out of reach. Yet when you nod, they brush against yours tenderly. You don't let it happen again. "Be specific."
God, his cock is too fucking hard to be playing games like this. He wants to curse you out. Wants to be fucking mean. Wants to tell you to stop being a little bitch and just let him have his way with you - but he promised he'd play nicely.
"Every inch of your skin," he says, 'cause he is actually a little too nervous to ask so politely for what he really wants.
Has been wanting it for weeks.
It's something new, to him. Something he's only ever asked for once, and it was in the heat of the moment. A moment quite a lot like this.
You smile. You know what he really wants. "That's not specific."
"But it's the truth."
Jeongguk always gets a little like this when he's riled up. A little needy. Whiney. You'd be a liar if you said you didn't enjoy it, but you know that sometimes he misspeaks. Says things he never would do if he wasn't desperately after a release.
You never think he's lying, but you do think what he wants in the heat of the moment isn't always what he wants with a clear mind. This is one of those moments.
You purr, a little satisfied with how easy it is to get him like this. Feels like you're in control - so Jeongguk rolls your nipples between his fingers again to get you moaning. Realigns a sense of power. It's endless with the pair of you; a back-and-forth of control. It works well. Too well.
But he's feeling brazen, now. Feeling bold. Isn't nervous to tell you what he wants anymore, because the way your body reacts to his touch lets him know that you'll like it.
"Your tits, Byeol," he says. Your eyes fall to his in the mirror. He's looking directly at you. Notices the way your chest begins to heave a little heavier. Smirks. "If this is my last chance to..." he pauses. Is almost ashamed of what he wants.
"Last chance to what?" You flirt.
You bitch. You're teasing him just because you can. It makes him throb. The motion of your hand stroking above his underwear is making his cock all fat and leaky. There's a damp patch on the front of his briefs. He's ready to fuck. Wants to fuck.
But before that? Before he can even consider sinking himself into you?
He (regretfully) pulls one of his hands away from you, bringing it to meet your hand in his trousers. He (even more regretfully) pulls you away. You pout. He smiles.
"C'mon," he says, pulling on the hand he's just removed, leading you into the kitchen area. Will clarify it for you later.
The boys have an island that acts as a divider between the two spaces, which is exactly where he's taking you. The clothes he took off you are left by the sofa, his mind focused on one thing and one thing only: leveraging you into a better position.
You yelp a little as he dips to pick you up, gripping the back of his neck without hesitation.
"Don't be a pussy," he grins, popping you down on the island counter. "Although now I come to think of it -" he lifts you again, getting to your feet. The way his mind darts from thought to thought, and how his body acts upon them without warning, makes you laugh. He sinks his finger into the waistband of your sweats. Pings it again your skin. "Off."
"Say please," you demand, just to be a little difficult.
"Please."
"Please what?"
"Please," he says, eyes dark as he towers over you, his hands coming to cup your chest once more. The man's obsessed, you think. If he could read your mind, he'd tell you that you're correct. He is. "Take your trousers off."
"Why?"
God, he hates that shit-eating grin of yours. Hates that he can't kiss it away.
And so he decides he's not gonna entertain it any longer. He grabs your hips. Spins you around. Bends you over the island, a single hand gripping the top of your thigh, the other pressing down between your shoulder blades.
"What's the word, Byeol?" He asks, checking that you're on the same page.
"Chess," you reply a little breathlessly. This lack of control is something you're used to with him. He's never overtly dominant, always looking out for your needs first and foremost, but this feels... yeah this feels different. This is about him.
And it makes you far more excited than you ever realised it would.
His hand trails down your back. Strokes at the line of your spine. He admires you. Takes note of the dimples just above your ass. Knows he's in trouble the second he starts squeezing at one of your cheeks. Still an ass guy.
He yanks the material of your sweats down past your ass. Fucking groans when he sees the black lace thong that sits prettily over your ass. Glances over to the bra by his sofa. Groans yet again. Yep . A matching fucking set.
"Fuckin' vixen," he mumbles to himself, not really intending for you to hear it. Isn't sure if you had planned on getting laid today, but you're definitely dressed for it. As he grapples with the flesh of your ass, he notices just how smooth your skin is. Well moisturised. Coconutty.
Maybe you had taken extra care in the shower that morning. Maybe you had shaved your entire body. Maybe you had been wearing a new two-piece.
That doesn't mean you were planning on letting him see. Just means your self-care routine is coming along fabulously. Well done you.
There's a bruise on the top of your hip. Jeongguk's thumb brushes against it. Doesn't apply any pressure. A small noise chirps from his throat, questioning it.
"Pole," you remind him a little breathlessly. "Gentle with my legs, they're covered in bruises."
He nods to himself, and says, "Use 'chess' okay? Hey, look at me a sec - 'chess'. Okay? Even if it's just your legs. Don't wanna hurt you."
You're looking at him over your shoulder with a smile. His sincerity is sweet, but entirely misplaced. You want him to hurt you.
"Notice how there are no bruises on my ass?" you ask, to which he nods. You face away from him again, and sink back into the position he originally had you in, chest pressed to the counter. "Good. Change that."
He thinks he might cream his pants right there and then.
"You're gonna fuckin' kill me."
"Oh no," you pout, voice all soft and sweet. "Wouldn't that be a shame?"
Jeongguk grapples with your ass. Caresses it. Knows you're not done talking, so is buying time. Wants to hear how you'll tease him. See how riled up it''ll get him.
"If you die, I'll just have to fuck Jimin again."
The crack of his palm against your ass is electric.
Your body jolts forward, Jeongguk's grip on your hip to keep you stable no match for the impact of his flat palm. Skin on fire, chest heaving, you giggle. That's all he's got?
"Y'know," you tease, and Jeongguk is pleased that you sound a little breathless. He strokes at the skin he impacted, soothing the sting. Likes that goosebumps are already forming. "He took me from behind, a lot like thi-"
He doesn't even let you finish this time before the sting of his spank is delivered. It's harder than the first one, but his hand is also far quicker to soothe this time around.
"Yeah," he husks. "I fuckin' know."
You can hear his breathing, now. You're both panting a little.
"Does it bother you?" you ask as he tenderly cares for your reddening skin.
"Be specific," he speaks boldly, a little unlike himself, and you're starting to understand why he's an ass guy. Your tits make him weak. This? The way he's got control of your body? Makes him strong.
"That I fucked Ji-"
The way he cuts you off with another domineering slap to your ass gives you his answer - but so does the way he not only soothes the skin immediately afterwards, but also how his other hand comes to rub the bottom of your spine, following the path of its curve. He's cherishing. Worshipping.
He leans forward as his hand trails up your spine so he can reach your neck, and tenderly clasps it to he pull you back up. Turns you around. Is gentle as he lifts you back into position on the counter.
Brushes your hair out of your face. Looks you directly in the eye. Uses this thumb to collect a rogue chunk of glitter from your cheek. Rubs it on his arm. Stains himself in you.
"It doesn't bother me," he says - not for any male sense of bravado, or acting 'chill' - but because he needs you to know it isn't a big deal. You've enough complexes as it is. He doesn't want you to ever feel shame for the things you've done. "Bothers me that he doesn't realise how lucky he was to get a pussy as good as yours. Bothers me he didn't finish the job. Bothers me that he actually got to fuck you," he grins. You grin right back. "But it doesn't bother me that it happened."
"Mm, so you won't share towels with him, but you'll share girls?" You tease. His hands toy with your chest again. Secretly, you think you like him better like this. Like it when he's weak.
"Am I sharing you?"
It's a loaded question, you think.
"Not right now," you whisper, reaching to his waistband, nose nudging against his. "Take these off."
"Say please," he whispers right back. One of your hands tangles in his hair. Pulls him away. Gets him looking into your eyes.
"Please."
How can he refuse? It's like you put him in a trance whenever he sees your disco-ball eyes. He'll do whatever you ask of him.
He takes his trousers off first, then says "shirt?"
You nod. He takes that off, too. Leaves them crumpled in a pile on the floor. Doesn't care for them at the moment. Only cares for you.
"I still need a shower," he says, as he closes the gap between you, your legs wrapping around his waist.
"We can still get one," you tell him. Honestly, you don't really mind what you do with him. Just know that you wanna make it last. Want this feeling of safety and security for a little while longer.
His arms rest on your shoulders. Just a little taller than you in height when you're sitting like this, Jeongguk likes looking at you from this angle. Likes seeing the variations in your glitter; the small chunks and slightly bigger flakes that make you seem cosmic. He likes noticing the flecks caught on your lashes, and how he never realised quite how long they are. He doesn't think you're wearing mascara.
You're not - but you did get your lashes done the week before. He wouldn't give a shit even if he knew. Would think it was cool, probably.
"So about that whole no-kissing thing-"
"Nope," you laugh, swatting at his clammy chest. He smirks. Presses his lips together. Shakes his head.
And then he whines. "It's so unfair."
"If you even try, I'm yelling chess."
"Really?"
"Oh, yeah," you assure him - only for him to edge a little closer.
He's not actually going to kiss you.
Although... if you let him, he might.
"Chess!"
"Ughhhh," he whines again, pulling away. "So mean, disco ball."
"What if I promise to make you cum?"
He narrows his eyes. "Fine."
One of his hands drops to your chest again. Keeps on coming back. Can't resist. Ass guy? Yeah right.
The other drops to your underwear. Toys with the lace.
"Bird revision, right?" Jeongguk asks. "So we can only do things we've already done?
You nod.
"Okay," he whispers, before pulling away from you. "Hold that thought."
You watch as he walks around to the kitchen sink, his thick cock tenting in his underwear, desperate for something. Anything .
And yet your birds?
All focus on you. You've no idea how the fuck you're gonna get him cumming. Sure, there was the mutual masturbation one, but you'd promised that you'd be the one making him come. Maybe there's room for loopholes.
It wouldn't be the first time the pair of you have skirted the truth of what a bird could entail. A bird, a plane. Whatever.
Hands under the water, Jeongguk's focus is only on cleaning himself. He preens you so often, fixes your hair, your glitter, that it's nice seeing him in the same capacity but for himself. Realistically, it's all for you, still.
He glances up. Looks a little bashful.
The distance reduces the pair of you to your natural states; just Jeongguk and his Stargirl. He gazes at you often, but it's different when he's blinded by the light. With a little space, he's reminded of the fact you belong on this earth, too.
It's like the pair of you are tangled up in a Jekyll and Hyde situation, instead, it's who you are when your clothes are on, versus when your clothes are off. He likes both of them. Doesn't think they can coexist though.
"What?" he asks when you smile at him. You just shrug and shake your head.
"Weird isn't it?"
He comes to stand in front of you again. Your legs don't wrap around him, but he does put his palms on the top of your thighs. Looks pensive as he asks, "What is?"
He's grinning, too, though. His skin is getting all prickly again. Can smell your arousal. Wants to fucking drink it.
"You 'n' me," you shrug, letting your arms snake around his neck. You're sat up straight, and the gap between your chests closes. "Like, I was maybe 15 seconds away from kissing you." The admission makes Jeongguk want to die. "But then when you were washing your hands..."
"I was just Jeongguk again, right?" He assumes. You nod. "Same for me. Like we're two different people: who we are when we're horny and who we are when we're 'normal'."
"So fucking weird," you laugh, deciding that it solidifies what a great friendship you have. Convince yourself it's gonna make it so much easier when he starts dating. If you can separate the Jeongguk you mess about with and the Jeongguk you're friends with, then there's no reason the friendship should be lost.
"Too weird to pick back up where we left off?" He says quietly. Nudges his nose against yours. Strokes his hands up your back. Pulls his chest away so he can sneak his hands to your tits once more. Squeezes. Makes you moan.
You shake your head. "Do it again."
He does.
Is firm, as he does so, his large hands cupping your chest so delicately that you almost want him to be rougher - but you like it when he's gentle. Like how well he takes care of you. His thumbs stroke across your hardened nipples, toying at them, getting you all hot and bothered.
You moan so subtly that Jeongguk thinks it might be his favourite sound in the whole entire world.
"You wanted specifics earlier," Jeongguk says under his breath. "I can give you a specific."
You nod. Trail along his bottom lip with your thumb. Let him press his lips down against it.
"Show me," you tell him. He squeezes at your chest. You know exactly what he wants. You also know he's never done it before. "My tits, huh? You wanna suck on them?"
He swallows harshly. Rests his forehead against yours. Nods. Can feel his cock throb.
"Big boy words," you whisper, and are met with a slight grunt from Jeongguk. He's used to being the one in your position. Used to setting the pace, setting the tone. You switching it back around on him? Fuck. He might just die. Or cum in his pants. One of the two. Death would be preferable. "Tell me what you want."
He rests his head on your shoulder. Looks at your tits as he plays with them.
"Not much of a teller. More of a doer."
He's just trying to weasel his way out of it. It's like the birds all over again.
"So do it."
And to your surprise, he does.
His lips are firm as he presses a kiss around your nipple. Once, twice. A third time. Poutier and poutier with each kiss. He's delicate. Sincere. Doesn't wanna get it wrong.
"Feels good," you tell him, knowing he needs the reassurance.
"Yeah?"
"Yeah," you smile. Tease at his hair as his lips wrap around you again. The way his lashes splay on his cheeks is art, you decide. "You've no idea how much I like this."
His lips kiss and kiss. It takes a little encouragement - "use your tongue a little. Yeah. Yeah, like that. It feels so good when you do that. Suck a little- oh fuck. Yes." - but it doesn't take long for him to gain confidence. Be a little bolder. He focuses on your reactions. Notices when your breath hitches everytime he runs his tongue around your nipple. When he kitten licks, too. But when he sucks? That's when the jackpot hits.
Your body leans into his touch, hand resting on the back of his head. His name escapes your lips half a dozen times. When he switches to your other nipple? Half a dozen more.
His lips are direct and purposeful and they tug your nipple into his mouth, his moans vibrating around you. Pulling away, Jeongguk wastes no time. Has your other nipple in his mouth almost immediately. Squeezes your tits together, nipples almost touching so he can swipe fast licks across them. Gets you mewling. Whining. Begging for more.
And how can he refuse?
His hand dips to your pussy. Toys with you over the lace, which is sodden with your arousal. He slides your underwear to the side, and says nothing, just continues sucking on your tits as he sinks a finger into you.
"Shit," you curse. The angle you're sitting at means he can't get too deep. Means he's hitting you in just the right spot, straight off the bat. He mumbles something, but you can't work it out. Just know there's no possible way he's an ass guy. Hasn't spent more than a second away from your tits since he first started peppering them in kisses. "Just like that."
Your head lulls back, and Jeongguk finally pulls away. "You good?"
He's met with the most satisfied laugh he thinks he's ever heard. "Is water wet?"
"Dunno," he grins. "But you are. Fuckin' soaked. God," he stares down at your pussy, stuffed with two of his fingers. "I fuckin' love this cunt."
You smirk. Roll your hips as well as you can in the position. He watches, transfixed by the way he's stretching you out even with just two fingers.
"My bed," he rasps. "Can we? I know I need to shower, but - fuck - I just gotta have you in my bed, B."
Truthfully, you're glad. There's something about post-gym Jeongguk that just really gets to you. You think it's the pheromones. Don't care to google it because you enjoy the mystery.
You nod. "Probably for the best. You have to eat off of here."
He smirks. Withdraws from you. Says, "So?"
And then he licks his fucking fingers clean. Eyes on yours. One of his brows tweaks. Challenges you.
"You underestimate how much I like eating pussy," he says, as he walks away, leaving you in a state of shock.
You think his departure is for dramatic effect. In reality, it's just so you don't see the Cheshire cat grin on his face, pleased with himself for what he just did. He knows it was hot - but he's smiling because he can't get over the way you taste. Fucking delicious.
That thing about torturing himself? Yeah. You might be right.
Eating pussy isn't on the birds. He knows he can't have it - and yet when you arrive at his door, mouth still ajar, both smug and surprised in the same expression, he thinks it might not be unfathomable.
"What?" he feigns innocence - but he's got a grin that tells the tale of a valiant hero. He's so pleased with himself that you almost slip back into your 'normal' selves again - but then you crawl onto his bed. All fours. Ass a little red from his hands earlier, but no bruises. Just that barely there thong he thinks belongs in a museum, and evidence of just how turned on you are showing between your thighs.
The smile of his? Replaced with a stare so hard it rivals his cock.
"What?" you feign innocence now, as you flop down onto his bed - and then he gets the luxury of seeing your tits and - fuck. It's all too much.
He walks over to the bed. Takes off his underwear. You do the same.
"I'm gonna die," he tells you with absolute certainty. He's so ridiculous that you can't help but smile all fondly at him. The way he jokes and banters with you comes so easily, that part of you doesn't even realise he's naked. Part of you does, though. Mainly your eyes, given the fact they seem to be transfixed on his cock. "If we don't do something about this-" he gestures down to his cock, as if you need any direction "- then I absolutely will just die. Is that what you want? Huh?"
"Mhmm," you hum, finishing it with a small giggle and a nod, reaching for his hand to pull him onto his bed. He lets you. Follows your lead, cause he hopes it's leading him somewhere good. "I want you dying a very little death."
The innuendo dances off your tongue and into his ear as you sit on his lap. His hands automatically find your chest. He decides he'll miss them. Encourages your body down. Positions you just right so that he can take your tits in his mouth again. He's a changed man.
"Don't think there'll be any little about it," he mumbles as he switches sides, kitten licking now so that he can finish his sentence. "Think it's gonna be a very big death, actually."
"Shit," you whisper as he gets reacquainted with your body. He decides all rather quickly that tits are a gift from God and he's been blind for his entire life up until he met you. How had he not been utterly obsessed before? He'll never admit it. Never. Will prevail as an ass guy - but fuck, he hopes whoever you set him up with has a good pair of tits.
But then there's an uncomfortable awareness of how fleeting this all is. By the time you've both finished, it'll all be over.
He manoeuvres you both over. Kisses your chest, now. Works his way up to your collarbone. Your neck. Bites down ever so gently. Kisses again. Tells you once more how your no-kissing rule 'will kill' him.
"Better leave me something nice in your will," you tease as he finally pulls away from dappling your skin in pretty kisses that you wished could have been on your lips instead. Either pair.
He sits back on his heels. Strokes his cock as he looks at you. Tilts his head, a smirk rising on one side as you cup your tits.
"Pussy," he encourages, pulling a little tighter on his cock. "Play with your pussy."
You give him a quizzical look, but do as you're told. Slide your fingers between your slick folds. Spread yourself for him. Watch as he almost fucking hisses. The pace he's wanking himself off increases. His breathing shallows. You think it stops completely when you sink two fingers into your entrance.
He curses. Tilts his head back. Ruts his hips upwards. Forces his cock through the tight grip of his hand. There's a sheen to his tip, precum leaking so delicately that you find yourself salivating at the sight of it. The muscles in his lower abdomen tense. He's edging himself.
"How many birds do we have left?" Jeongguk rasps, eyes opening to find yours again. The way he speaks, all breathless and needy, has you wanting more. "Mutal masturbation's done. I can't... Shit. I can't. I'll cum if I carry on. Tits are done. Fingers, done. What else?"
"Shower," you say, then follow it up with. "Do that last. Water gets in the way. Wanna watch you cum."
"Shit, don't say shit like that," he mewls as he sinks down on top of you. His body is warm, the chain around his neck catching on your throat, pooling between your collarbones. Has you determined to make him finish on your chest. Wanna replace his chain with his cum.
In a normal scenario, he'd kiss you right now - but he can't. Instead, he averts his desire. Grips his cock. Presses it against your folds. Spreads your slickness. Covers himself in it. Dips down a little too far. Curses. Gets you whining.
"You know," he husks against your neck. "We could..."
"Cockwarm?" You simper. "Don't believe that one was my bird?"
The crown of his cock presses against you. Jeongguk holds it as the base, and runs it down your folds, then back again. He repeats. Lets his grip get even tighter when he lines up with your entrance. He waits for you to move your hips.
And you do. Just for a moment. Just a tad. Just enough.
"Wasn't it?" He hums, knowing perfectly well it was one of his.
"Don't even think it was a bird," you whisper a little breathlessly as he presses a little deeper against you. He adjusts his hips. Lines himself up a little better. Your breath hitches.
"So you don't want to?" He asks, and you can just tell he's got one of those smiles on his lips. The one that makes you think maybe kissing him wouldn't be so bad. "'Cause I wanna."
"Gguk," you whisper. He shakes his head.
"Not an answer."
"Shit," you whimper, rolling your hips ever so gently to encourage his tepid ruts against you. "Condom?"
"Birth control?" he chances. He knows you're on it. Think if he's gonna get his cock in you, then he's gonna at least try for it raw.
You know you should, and yet - "Are you clean?"
He nods. Asks the same back. You nod. Haven't hooked up with anyone but him since your last test.
Everything is out in the open. There's nothing to lose - just the knowledge that you'll maybe never get this ever again. It only serves to make you want him raw even more.
"You get a minute."
He pauses. "A minute?"
"Sixty seconds," you nod. "Cockwarming. That's all you get."
It's ridiculous, 'cause all you want is for Jeongguk to fuck you senseless. Think it's embarrassing admitting that, though. What if he doesn't actually want to fuck you? What if it's just for the birds?
"Who's counting?" He husks. Realigns himself. Presses the tip of his cock against your entrance. Plugs it but doesn't push forward. Makes you wanna die. Too good. Too fuckin' good.
"You are," you whimper, knowing you won't be able to keep count when he's inside you.
He nods. Reminds you that 'chess' is always an option.
His cock sinks into you slowly. It's thick and wide, angled just right to hit your sweetest spots. Jeongguk groans. Finds himself seeking out your tits with his mouth as he bottoms out. Sucks gently, until he's reminded by you that he needs to be keeping count.
He grins. Nibbles your nipple ever so gently, then nods. "You're right, you're right. Sorry. Shit. One. Two..."
Jeongguk finds solace in the crook of your neck as your legs wrap around him. The position has him thinking you've no right to ever complain about intimacy again. This is about as fucking intimate as it gets. And when your arms wrap around his neck? Dainty fingers start toying with his hair? Only amplifies it.
Your hips move ever so tenderly, and he loses count. Finds himself swearing again. You're tight and warm around him, just how he wanted it. Torture. Fucking torture. He likes this so much he fears you ruined actual sex for him.
"Shit," he mumbles against you. "Never been good at maths."
The way you giggle? Torture. Again.
"You're a liar, Jeon Jeongguk," you whisper tenderly, tensing around him just cause you liked the way it made him whine.
He pouts and shakes his head, which is still buried in the crook of your neck. His voice is muffled as he asks, "What comes after 32?"
And because you're just as into it as he is, you decide lying is okay for the time being. "11."
"Yeah," he whines. "Thought so. Eleven... Twelve... What's next?"
"Dunno," you whimper breathlessly. It's getting a bit too much for you, too. "Maybe ten?"
"Ten," he echoes. Decides he wants to spend eternity inside you. "Eleven..."
He pauses just long enough for you to know exactly where he's going with this - so you beat him to it.
"Maybe it would be easier if you had a rhythm going?" you simper.
"A rhythm?" He hums. He was just gonna pretend he couldn't do maths again.
"Like..." you pull your hips back a little, burying yourself deeper into the mattress and away from him - but then you push them back up. Jeongguk fucking whines. "One."
You pull back, again. Jeongguk whines, again. Sinks himself back into you. "Shit. Two."
"I'm not good at multitasking," he says. Not a lie, admittedly. Gets distracted too easily. If you don't keep count, he'll just fuck you forever or something stupid like that. Doesn't think he'd mind it, to be honest. "Maybe you should keep count."
"Mhmm? You want me to count for you?"
"Yeah," he nods. "Count for me, B. Make sure I don't go over sixty."
"I'll count backwards," you tell him, thinking it will somehow take longer, because apparently all sense of sanity is evading you. Unsurprising. All you can think about is Jeongguk's fat cock and how it's keeping you spread open nice and wide for him. "Countdown."
"60-0?" He clarifies, to which you nod. "Mhm. Do that. Count backwards. Use that pretty little head of yours."
"Sixty..."
The way he pulls out of you is maddeningly slow. He's deliberating taking his time. Overindulging. Making this last. He's even slower as he pushes back in, filling you up as deep as he possibly can.
You're barely able to get the next number out.
"Fifty-nine," you eventually manage as he bottoms out. "Fuck."
He's lethargic in the way he moves. Slow as he withdraws, and even slower still as he fucks himself into you.
"Fifty-eight..."
Jeongguk's skin is hot. He sticks to you like glue. Only his hips move - but so do yours.
You're fucking.
You. Are. Fucking.
And, God, you know you shouldn't. You know that it's a recipe for disaster, but Jeongguk's aftershave smells like safety and his bed feels like home, so the prospect isn't scary.
"...Forty-two... Forty-one..."
Your whines are getting louder. So are his grunts. You grip onto his biceps, and begin to realise Jeon Jeongguk is not a man. He simply cannot be. Not when he is built like a Greek God, and looks like one too. Crafted from marble, there's no possibility he's real.
And even if he is real, you think there's no way he'd actually be fucking himself into you like he is.
Sex, at its very basic fundamental value, is all about survival of the fittest. Anatomy. Breeding. Shit like that; things you can't quite recall when he's balls deep inside you. It's about fucking for the survival of the human race, and out of everyone on the planet, you can't wrap your head around the fact he'd choose to do that with you. His basic anatomy would choose you .
Jeongguk isn't thinking as intensely as you are.
Fucking. Nice feeling. Cum. Nice. Inside her. Nice. Fucking. Real nice. Glitter. Nice. Tits. Suck. Nice. More. Fuck. Nice. Again? Nice.
But he is also thinking about spilling himself into you, and how fucking unreal it would feel.
So maybe your brains are working in tandem. Different process. Same end goal. He just can believe he'd choose you, 'cause, well... he already has.
Eventually, you hit thirty-three, then thirty-two, and then -
"Shit," you whine. "That damn thirty-two."
"What about it?" He asks a little curiously. Pauses his hips until he gets the go-ahead from you again.
"I've forgotten what comes after it."
"Shit," he grins, playing along with you. "Start again?"
"Maybe," you nod. "But this time, maybe go faster? Might jog my memory?"
Jeongguk smirks. Sits up on his heels, cock still buried inside you, knees on either side of your ass. He grips your waist. Spanks one of your tits, then softly caresses it as an apology for letting the intrusive thought win. His hips pulse gently.
He's fucking you.
Jeongguk is fucking you.
He lets the hand that was playing with your chest trail down your torso until it reaches your pussy. It's swollen and needy, just as much blood rushing to your clit as there is to his cock. His thumb presses down right when it needs to. Rubs in tiny circles as he gently thrusts into you slowly.
"Faster?"
You nod.
"Okay," he rasps. "Let's jog that memory of yours. You're so smart, Byeol. Look at you, and your pretty little head. So smart. So fucking smart when my cock's inside you."
This time you don't count. He grips your waist. Rams himself into you like a man possessed, lips resting ajar as his brows knit together all prettily like they did when he was eating brunch. So incredibly focused, and yet there's not a single thought up in that gorgeous head of his, just that he's fucking you so hard his neighbour will definitely be able to hear his bedframe hitting the wall. Good .
The noises he makes are lewd. You think he'd make bank with an only fans. Know that you'd pay good money for it. With a cock as pretty as his? A body like a marble statue? Gorgeous little whimpers when his cock is all needy for you? Yeah, bitches would go wild for him.
Funny, how you refer to them as bitches, almost like you're jealous over imaginary women who'd find him sexy. Very strange, indeed.
After all? You're just friends.
His pace eventually eases, and you pretend like you were counting the entire time. "Two... One... Times up."
Jeongguk sinks back down, hooking one of your legs over his elbow as he does so, opening you up even further. He wants to be deeper. As deep as he possibly can be. Wants to press down on your cute little tummy and feel himself inside you.
"Whoever fucks you next better worship your pussy," he mumbles, pressing kisses up your neck. "So fucking good. Shit. If you dare fuck another guy who doesn't make you cum like you know you deserve to cum-"
"You'll what?" you tease, a smile plastered all over your face. "Die?"
He laughs. Shakes his head. You know him so well. "What use would that be? Nah..."
Jeongguk pulls away from you again. Withdraws himself fully for the first time. Watches your pussy as your arousal seeps from your tight cunt and onto his sheets. Wants to lick it all up. Doesn't think he's allowed to, though.
Instead, he moves your legs, finally noticing the extra bruises from pole. You were right. They do look like watercolour bruises.
He squeezes your thighs together and uses his gentle hands to twist your hips, so that your legs are curled to the side, but keeps your back flat against his bed. He lines himself up with you again. Grunts as he sinks into you. You're tighter now, like this. He thinks it's gonna make him cum. He has to go slow.
"I'd get you like this," he says, holding onto your hip and pushing deeper, deeper into you. He nods over to his desk and smirks. "And that chair over there? That's where they'd be. And they'd have to watch me fuck you how you like it."
He doesn't mean to, but he finds himself fixated on the fact you routinely have sex and don't finish. He can't wrap his head around it. He'd had the luxury of witnessing you cum a handful of times. Had felt it once. Knows first-hand how fucking good it is. Thinks about it as he fucks into you, now, then lets the intrusive thoughts win again as he begins to ramble.
"Can't believe how many people you've let get away without making you cum. You know how good that shit is? Fuck. You feel like heaven. They wouldn't even deserve to watch it - but I'd do it. I'd make them fuckin' watch - 'cause not being funny, B, but you should see yourself right now. So fucking hot I might die. Hopefully then if they fucked you again, they'd know what to do."
"Never realised you were such a good teacher, Mr Jeon," you tease.
He stills his cock inside you. Smirks. Shakes his head. Picks up the pace again.
You know what ' Jeon ' does to him. The ' Mr ' ahead of it? Yeah. Gets him.
And so gives you a friendly threat, as he fucks his cock a little deeper into your tight, warm cunt. "I will fuck you so hard my bed breaks if you don't shut the fuck up."
"Oh?" You grin, trying not to moan and failing miserably. "Would you prefer Sir ?"
"Final warning," he growls, his hips slowing but deepening. He's close. You know it's not gonna take much.
"Whatcha gonna do? Give me a detention?"
"If you get to call me stupid fuckin' names, then I get to kiss you."
"Kissing isn't very friendly, is it?"
"Byeol, my cock is inside you."
"Yeah? Just a friendly fuck."
He knows you're joking, but Jeongguk doesn't think there's anything friendly about this.
He doesn't insist on kissing you any further.
"You're unbelievable," he smiles, easing slightly before reaching for your hand. "C'mon, let's make you cum."
"Oh? You want this to be over?" You flash a grin, as if you haven't been fucking him for God knows how long by this point, knowing full well he could have cum in 10 seconds flat at any given opportunity. He repeatedly edged himself for you.
"No, but if I don't cum soon, Byeol, I'll d-"
"Die, yeah yeah," you grin. "Alright. Put yourself out of your misery."
He laughs. Looks at you with such fondness that you think you'd quite like to orgasm on his cock for him like a good friend should. "You make me sound like such an asshole."
"I don't," you promise sweetly - before you also decide to let the intrusive thoughts win. "Also, just on the subject of assholes, thoughts on pegging?"
"Literally what the fuck is wrong with you," he laughs, rolling his hips to remind you of the more pressing things at hand. You moan a little, but all you wanna do is banter with him. You enjoy it. Like it when he's all hard and needy and impatient, and you're winding him up. You like frustrating him.
"You've got a nice ass," you shrug, shoulders pressed deep down into his white sheets. You look angelic, he thinks, hair haloing around your head, chest flushed, tits covered in teeny tiny hickies from his mouth.
"Well, maybe if you'd have picked a different plane..." he teases. "You'd know by now."
Holy shit.
"Wait. You wanna get peg-"
Jeongguk covers your mouth with his hand, a subtle grin on his pretty little face, dewy nose scrunching just for you.
"As much as I enjoy your chitchat, Byeol, I'm gonna fuck you so hard you can't talk at all. That good?"
You laugh. Twist your torso over to reposition yourself on your front. He gives you a playful spank straight off the bat, and it makes you roll your eyes - as if you hadn't turned over just to give him a view of your ass. You'd known what you were getting yourself in for.
Adjusting you slightly, Jeongguk pulls one of his spare pillows over, and lifts your hips to scoot it beneath you. It's his favourite position. Every last part of it. The way he can pull on hair and spank asses? The muffled moans into his pillows? Fuck .
You love it just as much. Always helps to have your body weight adding to the pressure of your fingers massaging against your cunt. As Jeongguk pushes into you, he watches your hand slip beneath your body, and curses.
"That's it, B," he husks. "That's a good girl."
He fucks himself into you - slow, deep, hard - and picks up the pace with every pathetic moan that escapes your lips. Tells you how good you sound, how much he wants to hear you come undone - and then you are.
The pleasure waves through you like an electrical current, Jeongguk's thick cock unrelenting as he fucks into you and drags your high even further than you thought possible. There's a numbness to your body, save for the overwhelming pleasure that pulses around his cock. It's all you can feel. Everything else is void. For a moment, the only important thing in your life is Jeongguk's dick and the way it fills you like nothing else ever has.
"Shit," he husks. "B, where?"
"Back," you just say, unable to move because your body is still fucking shaking. You don't even get the chance to mourn the loss of his cock inside of you, because he has to pull out so quickly.
His hand grips his cock and wanks faster than the speed of light. The pressure in his balls builds and builds and then it can build no more.
He squeezes your ass and whines as thick, creamy spurts of cum begin to paint your back.
The sound of his grunting makes you moan with every new rope of cum emptied onto your skin, and Jeongguk's pretty sure nothing in Taehyung's 'passion' collection could even come close to the sight in front of him.
The final drops are wasted on your ass cheek as Jeongguk holds it to the peachy flesh, watching the way he stains your skin. Holding his cock by its base, he spanks it against your ass once, twice. Smirks. Takes a moment to squeeze your ass just because he can.
He fucked you. He knows he should be concerned about the friendship, but he's not reached post-nut clarity yet.
Eventually, he flops down beside you.
"You know," you mumble, eyes closed, a smile on your lips. Jeongguk's grin is so serene that it's a good job your eyes aren't open. You might accidentally get your feelings confused if you saw him look that pretty. "I actually think it's a bit mean setting these poor girls up with you."
"What? Why?"
He sounds genuinely affronted. You just smile harder.
"Well, it's a bit cruel, isn't it? Us pretending like they'll be dating some great guy, only for them to later find out you're really average in bed."
He knows you're joking. Knows that a fuck like that could never be described as average. Plays up to your teasing just because he finds it funny.
" Average ?!" He exclaims. You can hear his smile in his tone of voice. "Nah, you're chatting shit just to piss me off, Byeol. What is it, huh? Want me to fuck you again? Want me to remind you exactly how average I can be?"
"Maybe."
He grunts. "Call me when you can walk straight."
"Pass me my phone."
"Fuck off."
The afternoon descends into casual chaos. You shower together, and bicker over who gets to stand beneath the water for longer, then battle it out for Jeongguk's fluffy towel in the aftermath. In the end, he lets you have it - only 'cause he likes the way you oogle at him when he's naked.
You dry your hair, and style Jeongguk's into pretty little French braids. Tell him that he has to keep it like that. He says he will. By the time Jimin gets home, you're just sitting on the sofa watching shite TV. He's none the wiser you were naked on his kitchen counter a few hours earlier. Probably is best he never finds out about that part.
He studies Jeongguk's hair for a moment, then shrugs. "Suits you. What have you guys been up to?"
Good fucking question.
"Not much," Jeongguk hums. "Gym this morning. Met this one -" he pokes you with his foot, earning a grimace from you. "- Afterwards for coffee. Been stuck to me like a bad smell ever since."
Jimin laughs. Shakes he his head as he comes to sit by you both with a box of dry cereal that he's eating straight from the bag.
"You've got the most sensitive nose known to man," Jimin teases. "If you've kept her around, it's cause she smells good."
"Nah," he begs to differ. "Just gone nose blind."
"Prick," you laugh, then ask Jimin about his day.
Conversation takes place of the shitty TV show, the three of you easily finding a million different topics to talk about.
It's times like this you regret ever fucking Jimin. Part of you fears you'll always just be 'the girl Jimin fucked that one time'. No identity within Jeongguk's friendship group beyond the fact you shagged his mate.
It's stupid. They barely remember Jimin even so much as looked in your direction. You're Jeongguk's friend. Jeongguk's.
Funny how you don't seem to mind being reduced to no identity outside of the confines of Jeongguk. Did you really heal after Seokjin? Or are you just making even worse decisions than you used to?
Thing is, Jeongguk's friends would be right in thinking that of you.
You are his friend.
As you head off into town the next morning to arrange his blind date, you know that's all you'll ever be.
And somehow, you think you're okay with that.
AO3 | MASTERLIST | MINORS DNI
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So! I've gotten a host of messages and asks regarding recent disk horse and I wanted to address them as a collective. I know I have anon asks off, I won't share your URLs, but I do want to thank you for asking and clarifying some of the frankly vile things people have been saying about me, my girlfriend, and friends. I value those of you who offered your words of support, and didn't jump to believe screenshots taken out of context and lies written with the utmost confidence and none of the facts. I am a little tired of having my morals questioned and my views conflated with every single person I associate with, but there it goes.
Some questions and answers under the cut. Feel free to continue asking and I'll do my best to answer.
tumblr user cpericardium suspiciously silent on the subject of Gaza: does this mean you support ethnic cleansing???
My reticence when it comes to posting about topics like I/P is because:
-This is a fandom blog intended for lighter topics, except maybe the occasional vent about life stuff, which I usually hide under a cut. I don't have sideblogs. They seem tough to maintain and I don't post nearly enough to justify it. If I were to make one it would be for another fandom or maybe just the freakier bugs. I simply prefer my social media experience to be stress-free.
-Anti-slacktivism. It's a documented thing: posting about an issue makes you feel like you're doing something, you get that little shot of dopamine, so you don't actually go out and do something that effects meaningful change. I'm trying to do less of that. I'm good with the friends and people I follow who choose to post about it and this is a strictly personal belief, but when I engage in activism, it is offline or it is a donation. You're not going to hear about it.
But don't you reblog lgbt and women's rights posts?
Yeah, and that's usually when I want to save a post for one reason or another (e.g. to talk about with someone on discord later). The bottom line is that the main purpose of my blog is not to post political takes or to spread awareness of anything. It is just a collection of my interests (fan stuff, bugs) and hopefully a way to share those interests with like-minded people.
I will state my views clearly for the record: I support Palestine. The ongoing genocide is heartbreaking and so is the violence against protestors. Additionally, I am against antisemitism and the harassment of Jewish people in the name of supporting Palestine. This shouldn't even need to be said.
Is your girlfriend a Zionist?
No.
Does she support Zionists?
No.
Wasn't she in the military?
Yes, years ago.
But the military is evil?
It is. She's extremely hardcore anti-war, does not believe the US should even have an army, and actively PMs strangers on reddit to try to convince them to not make the same mistake. If they're dead set anyway, she gives them detailed advice on how to survive. Because she actually cares about the human cost of war, not the social clout gained from shunning or sneering at people who make wrongheaded choices. I have seen her doing this, seen her seeking to understand their reasons for joining so she can systematically explain—from personal experience!—why they're not going to get any of that out of the army. It is a hell of a lot more effective than bitching them out or writing callout posts or starting whisper campaigns about them. She cannot delete those years of her life no matter how much she regrets them. There is only forward. I think we can all agree on that.
But what about all those things she said. "I regret nothing, I have no qualms, VA nipple money etc."
Well you have to understand that while of generally upright character, she is a bit of a scamp. She believes she fundamentally should not have to explain herself to randos who do not know her, who have never, not once, interacted with her, who are clearly digging for dirt and will twist anything she says no matter how banal. People see what they want to see and they look for evidence to reinforce their preconceptions; they'll go so far as to make alts to join servers, cherry-pick screencaps, crop them, and conveniently fill in the rest of the narrative for curious onlookers. So she decided to exaggerate and amplify and twirl her mustache like a supervillain. Give them a show, as it were.
To be clear, I'm not sold on this strat because it makes her look cartoonishly evil to people who can't understand sarcasm and hyperbole. But her friends and I are aware of her actual beliefs and also that she did not in fact do those things people imagine she did. And isn't that what matters? Real-life harm? Do you even care?
Re: screenshots
She addresses them here.
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I think people will jump and say he’s dating her but the facts are still facts. They haven’t seen each other (that we know of) outside hyrox related stuff. He didn’t go watch her in Birmingham when he was in London for St Patrick’s day, he didn’t go watch her when he had a free day in Paris instead of going to Germany which is a short flight and he was signed up then to. I think he enjoys these competitions and would like to compete but couldn’t this year. I think he is her friend and supports her as friends do. I think they did not stay at the same hotel just as she stayed at a hotel in Glasgow instead of at his house, where he has friends stay all the time. Including female friends like Marina. I truly get a brother sister vibe from what I’ve seen. Men and women can be friends. I’d say they don’t flaunt the friendship because of his crazy fans but they’re not hiding it either, which I think they’d be much more discreet if actually dating. Anyway that’s my take on it as I’m sure you’re getting bombarded with anons. Also I still don’t believe that’s her with him at lunch. But again my take.
Thank you Anon, you're message sums it up in a realistic way which I can agree on. Next to the 3 times they met (that we know of), all the time fitness/Hyrox related, there's a huge list of facts that we know of that just leaves us with the conclusions you made in your post. You didn't even summed up all of them but just a few.
The thing is people go overboard when something fits their narrative, and make much more of it than there really is to see. In this case he's already the 'perfect stepdad' and people jump to the conclusion that he's 'only in London for her'. No idea how they know, they're all not there and he's been so many times to London, a place he lived for years, has many friends there, his agent is there... and I can go on for a while. He has a bank holiday, so not such a surprise he's in London to begin with.
It happens in all fractions however, they all take what fits their narrative, and when it doesn't they're all quick to jump to all the excuses they can think of. The woman is paid, she's a beard, the fan that posted the video is a PR plant, she's a liar. It's actually disgusting how people get attacked. I've felt these attacks myself as well (I just need to look at my inbox). You can see it in the comments of the fan who now also posted her video on IG:
I don't know about you all, but how disgusting are these accusations. (and btw. I do know very well who the cherylecheryl account on IG is, and it isn't the one P always claims it is! Yes I have proof for that).
This doesn't only happen by this account, which is btw. not a shipper (so you make your guess) but I saw similar accusations on shipper blogs as well, amongst others calling her a liar.
I don't know why this is necessary. Why can't we just accept that he's having female friends as well, or can have a lunch near a Hyrox location and then go there to see her race? The same happened so many times in the past as well, whenever I posted a video of him having lunch, or a drink with a female person. A short video, or even just a picture, a moment in time. And people start to argue and fight and call others names and accuse them of all bad things. WHY?
I told you earlier today, it is Liberation Day here in the Netherlands. 79 years ago the Netherlands was freed of the Nazi occupations by the allied forces. Half of the Netherlands was freed a year before, the other half had to endure the hunger winter and another year of oppression since Operation Market Garden failed halfway.
I told you a number of times, I live very close to the German border, it's just a 10 minute walk away. Here in the place we live, our liberation celebration is always shared with our German neighbours. Representatives of the collaborating cross-border organisations and even representatives of the Deutsche Bundestag are invited as speakers. They are always impressed and very grateful to share the celebrations with us Dutch inhabitants of this border village.
The message is always simple, freedom and peace is not a given fact, it's not granted, we have to cherish it, we all have to work on it every day. A line on a map, being an inhabitant of another country doesn't change that. Having another opinion, should not be a reason for hate, violence, aggression. We can have different opinions, we just need to be adult enough to accept it.
I don't want to compare this fandom to the wars and differences in the world, loss of lives and all the grief and terrible, horrible situations people need to survive in. But I do wonder if there can be so much aggression and hate thrown at people over a simple thing like SH having a lunch with a woman, how on earth are we able to make this world a more peaceful place?
Now have a thought about that!
Thank you for listening to my TED talk
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Thinking Beyond Replacement
The new Lilith reveal when Vengeance was announced led to another stupid & frankly outdated thought: "why design a new look for a classic SMT demon that's still popular when the new is functionally identical to the old?"
This thought nevertheless got me curious, so i made the Qadistu quartet edits seen above. I've become pro-Doi Lilith for the following reasons:
Kaneko is super dead now that he left Atlus. It's time to move on for real. I'm especially talking to myself.
the palettes of Eisheth Zenunim, Agrat bat Mahlat, and Naamah aren't dissimilar to the Amemiya or Kaneko Liliths, so they would still look fairly cohesive even with the latter. But Lilith is still the leader of the Qadistu and her bubblegum pink hair makes her pop out among them.
However, I think it's undeniable that Doi designed the Qadistu as a unit, combining, as he says, "beauty and ugliness." All 4 have grotesque features and I particularly like Lilith's bony joint aberrations:
There's just a level of cohesion usually only a single artist can lend to such a related/thematic assemblage; I'm also pretty positive on Naamah; even if her purpose in the Qadistu might just be to breast boobily, she's a demon I've wanted in SMT for a long time and i think her design delivers.
I'm not as hot on Agrat bat Mahlat, she reminds me of Ranni for some reason; I just think the "dark witch" motif is a little derivative but at least she adds variety to the group. The most notable thing about her to me is that her red eyes make it look like she's been doing some heavy dabbing in the sweet leaf. Eisheth Zenunim I'm pretty neutral about.
Last point on accepting change, as sad as that sounds to say (but it totally is what's necessary):the 4 Qadistu are the wives of Samael, and so the new Lilith is still wrapped by a snake--a red snake, the same color Samael has always been in Kaneko's designs. While it seems a given Samael will be involved in the story eventually, it would also mean he will have a new design, and probably not a snake, or at least something more involved. I also imagine Lilith's snake having a role in cutscenes--further necessitating the need for an all-new design/model.
Also, i totally expect there to be some classic SMT comparative etymological conflation bullshit with Samael this time around, because "Samael" is one of the alternate names of Yaldabaoth. And oh yeah, Sophia is the mother of the demiurge and in vanilla she called herself a sacred prostitute:
So expect her involvement, too. I'm honestly pretty excited for Vengeance! It's coming out at a great time for me, I think it'll be doable for me one-handed,Doi's new designs I would put on a Kaneko quality scale of somewhere between SMT2 and Devil Summoner, and vanilla SMT5 was so low impact, the only place it can go now is up!
#smt5v#masayuki doi#megaten#smtvv#smt v vengeance#qadistu#lilith#naamah#agrat bat mahlat#eisheth zenunim#samael#demiurge#sophia
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This is not a Wendy's, and my story is not your burger.
A note up front: the following does not refer to the serious issues of racism, anti-Blackness and white supremacy in fandom spaces, which deserves a much more nuanced discussion than a ridiculous food metaphor could ever hope to express. This is a general discussion of fandom standards around tagging and warnings.
Over the three – now nearly four – decades that I've been in fandom, I've seen a lot. I've seen a lot of foolishness, and a metric fuckton of toxicity, and even some good faith, honest debates about how we should conduct ourselves as we move through fannish spaces and interact with one another. So from the start, let me explain that this is not the old lady crabbing at the kids. None of this is particularly new, and fandom culture ebbs and flows. Heigh-ho, nonny nonny, the wheels roll on.
That said, we need to have a talk. Because some people may not be as experienced as the rest of us, and need to understand some fundamental truths about fandom that they may not have picked up, because no one reads Fanlore from top to bottom for fun. That's not inherently a concern. We all learn from one another – I've learned so much from younger people in fandom, particularly here on tumblr – but there are occasions when younger fans could also benefit from some knowledge flowing the other way.
First, fandom is vast. It was huge when I started in the Dark Ages, and it's increased exponentially in the last fifteen to twenty years, since “geek culture” has gone mainstream. That widening of the circle – and more importantly, the naked commercialization of it by media giants who smell our money like vampires in a blood bank – is both a blessing and a curse, because on the one hand, more people who love a thing means more love for everyone! On the other hand, though, I think it's unmoored us in some senses from the fundamental truth that fandom is unhinged, joyful obsession, the fulfilment of a need for communication, creative expression and connection, and most importantly – community.
Yes, fandom is – or should be, at its best – a community first and foremost. And just like any community, it's filled with individuals who form groups, subgroups and cliques. And none of those groups have ever, in the over half a century since the first Star Trek fan made Kirk and Spock fuck, agreed upon one single, overarching view of what 'community' means. Which means the minute you as a fan come striding up to another fan's little electronic nest on the AO3 or Youtube or tumblr demanding that standard X be applied to their fannish creation in the name of 'fandom courtesy' or 'fandom etiquette'? All the old ladies (gn) in fandom realize that you are desperately, painfully new*.
Does that mean that we shouldn't strive to be a community? Of course not. But I would argue that the single and only “rule” of that community is that we make an effort to treat each other, first and foremost, with kindness and grace, and the understanding that the person you are interacting with is not you. They're not even one of the fifty-two people you interact with on Discord who all agree to the same “rules of fandom” (newsflash: they probably don't). And if you come into their fannish space as a stranger demanding they cater to you, you are probably going to be in for a shock.
Commercialization complicates this issue, because I think one element that's new is that some of us have lost sight of the fact – or never learned – that fans do not place their creations in front of you like a server handing you a bag at a fast food drive thru window. They are not producing a commodity to be consumed for which you paid hard earned money that entitles you to certain rights, such as the right to complain if you ordered a burger with mayo and received mustard instead. You would certainly have a right to demand compensation if you're allergic to mustard and had to go to the hospital as a result.
Fandom is more like a potluck, a gigantic potluck with literally millions of dishes. At some tables, there are agreed upon warnings for certain allergens, but others are not required to be mentioned and if you have an allergy, you will need to ask directly. At some tables, you are told that there may be allergens in any of the dishes and you proceed to eat them at your own risk. That risk and your assessment of it is, for better or worse, entirely your responsibility to manage. And your preferences – level of spice, aversion to certain textures and flavours – those are not allergies and there is no prior agreed upon standard to break down every possible element of a dish so that you will always be able to avoid any contact with the foods you personally don't like. There never has been, and there never will be.
The only thing you can be certain of is that on every single table, there are dishes that people have created for you for free with love, effort, experience and care. If you walk up to that table and take a bite and then politely turn down any more, that's fine. If you take a bite, spit it out and loudly tell that person that is not what you were expecting, you wouldn't have tried it if you'd known what it tasted like, and you are appalled that this person did not inform you of every single ingredient before you tried it? You, my friend, are not going to be welcome at the potluck.
Fandom is not a Wendy's. The stories, songs, costumes, artwork, edits that we put out into the world are not mass produced burgers made in a giant factory and shipped to restaurants where you can rest assured that the burger you eat in London will taste the same as the one in Dubuque. And no, the time you invested in reading a fic, watching a vid or contemplating a piece of artwork posted freely on the internet is not something you have the right to demand a refund on either, because again, fandom is not a fast food restaurant, and our interactions with one another in fannish spaces are not transactions. Every creation you choose to put in front of your eyeballs took that person time and energy, and they are putting that out in the world to make a connection with other human beings.
The next time you leave a comment, choose connection. It's easier than you think.
(*I'm going on good faith here and presuming most people who do this are relatively new to fandom. I'm not counting the people who think it's fine and dandy to hurl abuse at strangers for not obeying their standards – those people should be blocked and excluded on sight. I sincerely hope that they get help for the demons that are chasing them and telling them this is an acceptable way to live.)
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Dungeon Meshi is possibly the best case I've ever seen of fantasy being used as an extended study of casual racism. Most of our beloved blorbos are, in fact, casually racist in some way, including the central party. It's not treated as a good thing. Their ideas are not treated as true by the narrative. But most importantly, the characters are still treated as fully realized people who are likeable and doing their best...but operating under a skewed worldview. Casual racism is a character flaw, and a bad one, and not one that can turn into a benefit in the right situation; the closest it can come is...being mildly useful against shapeshifters.
But most importantly, it's explained by their life circumstances without excusing it. Laios is casually racist - in the kinds of ways that people in real life might be; he's Like This toward other groups of tallmen, even - because he isn't good with people in the first place, let alone enough so to question "ambient" attitudes toward "outsider" tribes or think about why deciding someone's name is too hard to really get right might just be a dick move (in other words, his casual racism exists in a way that a lot more white autistic people need to be aware can happen, tbh) - and he faces the consequences, some of which are fucking devastating (I straight up can't revisit the part where Toshiro admits he hates Laios because holy fucking shit it hits way too close to home to understand BOTH of their viewpoints that deeply, like I had to lay down after that one). Senshi is also casually fantasy-racist, because he's never been in extended contact with a multiracial group before - hell, he hasn't been in extended contact with ANY group since childhood. Marcille seemed like she was at her worst when arguing over the history of the orc war, but the deeper-running thing is that her stubbornness extends to a good bit of egomania; when she has what she thinks is a good idea, she thinks she knows better than anyone; we see this flaw with the mandrake incident and think a valuable lesson has been learned...only for it to REALLY rear its ugly head later, and what else could you expect? Elf culture is, itself, pretty damned racist. She's spent her whole life being told she's smarter and wiser than anyone from a shorter-lived race because ~with age comes wisdom~! That's not something that goes away overnight!
And Chilchuck, as the guy on the receiving end of so many of this society's shitty attitudes...in a lot of media, and hell, often in real life, with someone as initially cold and closed-off from his party as him, we would expect to see a whole scene where he apologized for the mistake of not trusting them...but we don't get that with him, as I honestly believe we shouldn't, because he had no way to know or even suspect that this party would be the one that wouldn't try to just use him as an expendable tool - and in fact, as established above, plenty of evidence to suspect that they very well might. He can't read minds. Any time he's up, he doesn't know how the party will respond if he dies - would they mourn, or would the last thing he heard while bleeding out just be "aw, shit! Where are we going to find another competent half-foot THIS deep into the dungeon!?" We know the answer, but we have every reason to understand that he does not. He's using very rational defensive tactics...against people, it turns out, he doesn't need to use them against, but he's not exactly WRONG to do so - you can't even call him mistaken; he's making the best decision he can with the information at hand (i.e., his history, their casual racism). He sees people who are not half-foots and fully expects them to exploit him based not on outside stereotypes but on his own history, and while it's not cruel, exactly, it sure does make things harder - more so on him than those around him - than they need to be.
And what I like about this is that the narrative says - yes, these racist and ignorant attitudes are bad. They do harm to the people who have to deal with them, both directly and indirectly. No, they aren't going to be 100% resolved in a single story arc; they have to be chipped away at slowly, bit by bit. Yes, they exist in fully realized people. They are the result of Living In A Society, not individually just being the most evil kind of motherfucker on the planet.
They might even - probably even - exist in you.
So maybe we should all be working on that a bit, hm?
#dunmeshi#in other words when i saw the short manga about the class assigned to write about the bunny people?#my reaction was ''...okay that explains a lot''#id love to sit down and talk serious real world shit vs. fantasy with ryoko kui#also i could write a whole dissertation on the fact that you can read ALL of the main manga and never actually know toshiro's real name#like damn that is some fourth wall fuckery with the concepts right there#like we have to question what WE know from the canon#very powerful use of unreliable narration all around
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person A cheering on person B at one of their games wearing their number and person B couldn't be happier
person b is jacob fowler please!!
you, in the stands
jacob fowler x fem!reader
the love is in the air at the conte forum between you and your boyfriend, jacob fowler.
0.8k words
warnings: probably inaccurate hockey game writing lmao. i know what jacob's hair color is now! thank you middstape i appreciate it LOL
GUYS i'm sorry i haven't posted anything in a hot second. i've been busy with ending school and starting my summer job, but i have more time now, so i'm hoping to get through my inbox, work on my gabe au and will smith au! this was so cutie to write thanks so much for requesting!! :) gif is not mine btw!
700 celly masterlist
the conte stands were packed with fans wall to wall, bleacher to bleacher. boston v. new hampshire had been the most anticipated game since the eagles played them a few weeks back and the boys were most definitely ready to show the wildcats what else they had up their sleeve. of course you were at the game. you’d never miss one of jacob’s games, so there you were tucked five rows up from the glass where you were far enough away to avoid being too close to someone getting smashed into the glass, but close enough where you still followed everything happening.
your best friend stood beside you after taking the whole day to convince her to come. she was never a huge hockey fan, so dragging her along to games was more of a chore than anything. the two of you sported your eagles gear along with every other person, except yours was special.
you and jacob had only been seeing one another for a couple of months—neither of you wanting to take things too fast, so for the first few games you showed up in a sweatshirt (or jacob’s). this time, however, jacob gifted you his jersey to wear.
your eyes literally grew the size of watermelons when he proposed the idea last night.
“coming to the game tomorrow?” jacob’s voice filtered into the bathroom where you did your nightly routine in front of the mirror.
“of course. is that even a question?” you laughed. whether you and jacob were dating, you’d always be at the hockey games growing up a hockey fan yourself.
your boyfriend’s laugh brought a smile to your lips, “just making sure. i like looking up and seeing you there in the stands every time.”
he was so corny, but you loved it nonetheless. he smiled when you stuck your head out of the bathroom, “you’re adorable. i think i’ll drag y/bsf/n (your best friend’s name) along.”
“i don’t know about that one y/n. remember last time you brought her?” the boy laughed again.
“whatever. i’ll make her come,” you shrugged and disappeared back into the bathroom.
when you came back out your boyfriend spread himself out on the bed with open arms for you to climb into. it was a miracle the two of you even fit on the twin xl together. shutting the light off, you crawled in beside him, snuggling into his side immediately. his arm wrapped tightly around your waist as you breathed him in and got comfortable.
“any outfit ideas yet?” jacob asked into the growing silence of his dorm room. he knew you loved planning out your game day outfits and appreciated the numerous options you’d send him.
“mm, i dunno yet. sweatshirt probably.”
jacob hummed as the idea in his mind grew larger and hung on the tip of his tongue to propose it to you, “what about you wear one of my jersey’s?”
your eyes popped open. “one of your jersey’s?” you repeated like you didn’t hear him the first time.
his eyes searched yours in a slight anxious manner, worried you didn’t like his idea. your relationship was still so new, he didn’t want to force you into letting other people know you were his if you weren’t ready.
“yes?” the red head squeaked out.
“i-i yes. i’d love to,” your smile grew wider which sent relief through the boy’s system.
so there you were in your usual spot sporting your boyfriend’s jersey proudly. his last name was etched across your back letting everyone around you know that you were fowler’s girl.
the famous freshmen line—will smith, ryan leonard, and gabe perreault—flew down the ice towards the goal. everyone was on their toes watching the trio work seamlessly together to get the puck across the ice. it was nearly impossible to hear anything, but this was the atmosphere you grew up in. loud and noisy was your thing and ice hockey could never fail to bring a smile to your lips.
jacob told you he loved that about you. he loved seeing how happy you got for him and his team on the ice.
unh came back down the rink with the puck in possession. you watched jacob get himself ready for a block, the boys each shouting incoherent things to one another. the wolverines were tough players, but you weren’t worried. the boys have beaten them each time they played and it wasn’t looking like unh was closing the score anytime soon.
jacob slid down, blocking the puck from entering the goal. the fans, including yourself, jumped up in excitement. “that’s my boyfriend!” you exclaimed excitedly.
whether jacob heard you or not, he looked up at the stands, smiling beneath his mask, seeing you there so happy for him. you blew tiny kisses in his direction which he caught and pressed against his chest before refocusing on the game.
your best friend nudged your shoulder, a knowing smile on her lips. everything was good, really good, when you had your boyfriend’s name across your back and his eyes on you in the stands when he wasn’t playing.
#boston college#boston college hockey#bc eagles#bc hockey#jacob fowler#jacob fowler x reader#jacob fowler fluff#jacob fowler x fem!reader#peachhcs 700 celly!#montreal canadiens#boston college imagine#bc eagles lb#jacob fowler oneshot#jacob fowler blurb#boston college hockey blurb
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May I request Karma with a fashionsta s/o? They love dressing up, makeup, jewellery, and are super trendy?
Can it be written like a fic and not headcanons?
I love your work, and take your time lovely!! ☆•☆!!
Karma x Fashionista Reader (2 mini stories, both separate from one another!)
. ˚◞ ✧ You said like a fic I hope a double one-shot is okay ˘͈ᵕ˘͈ sorry this took so long I've been drowning in work and haven't had time for writing ´ˎ˗ I really appreciate how you always like my post it means a lot! ✧. ˚◞
— Story 1) Online Shopping
You have been scrolling through online stores for half an hour now.
With no understanding of personal space, Karma hovers over your shoulder trying to catch a glimpse of your screen.
"You're so heavy, get off meee..."
“Don't you have those shoes already?”
"No. I have them in black but the pink and white variation is so cute!"
He raises his eyebrows in confusion, "Same difference to me."
You sigh "Yeah 'cause you wear the same things most days."
He spoke, "I'm only lazy about it because I don't want to outshine you."
"I just love how humble you are. Ah you distracted me, the shoes are sold out now."
You laugh lightly shoving him off your shoulders, "There's no way to make it up to me! Well actually you could-"
"I'm not giving you my console [Name]."
"Worth a shot... if I can't have your console I want to dress you up!"
He thinks it over for a second and gives in to your hopeful smile, "Alright, but no hair gel."
You rush up the stairs "Deal! I’ll go get the stuff!”
A week later, the shoes you wanted were delivered to your doorstep. Karma didn't tell you, but you knew he was the one who bought them for you.
— Story 2) Makeup
“This looks weird on me, maybe I should give it to Rio? It would suit her." You frown as you grab a wipe to remove the lip-liner off, You realize it's about time you stop buying from influencer advertisements.
His eyes move down to your lips, "I think it's pretty on you?"
"Don't lie to me."
Karma deadpans "Fine then it's ugly."
You push his cheek away playfully, "Wow I appreciate the honesty."
"I was kidding! It looks good."
"I'm sure you think so."
Without missing a beat and as if to make a point, he kisses you and you can feel his smile growing wider on yours.
When he moves away from your face; you burst out laughing at his stained lips.
"Why does it look nicer on you?!"
He wipes his mouth and shrugs, "I can make anything work."
He grabs the pencil in an attempt to re-line your lips himself.
He mumbles “this looks easy enough.”
He moves back to admire his line work "You're just not used to it, but you look cute either way."
Safe to say these are your new favorite lip products.
#karma akabane#karma x reader#karma akabane x reader#akabane karma x reader#assassination classroom x reader#assassination classroom#assclass#karma akabane headcannons#ansatsu kyoushitsu#akabane karma#karma akabane x you
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I NEED HELP (DND Stuff, might be a dumb question idk-)
So genuine question for DND side of tumblr, but- I've been thinking recently...
And are the things next to the dragonborn colors in the player handbook, like, types of damage that are less effective, their magical girl power, or both?
Cuz I never really thought about that before and I have absolutely no idea-
#shitposting#random shitpost#questions that need answering#screaming into the void I guess??#dnd#dungeons and dragons#dnd questions#dungeons and dragons questions#dnd stuffs#seriously‚ I have‚ like‚ ...hold on I'm going count#20 characters‚ not all of which have been included‚ excluding the second generation#Another one I've been thinking of making that I only have a name for#A Kobold character and a Goliath character that I wanna make#19 second gen characters (my main/first set's eventual kids and/or other family members like nephews‚ younger brothers‚ apprentices‚ etc.)#Which I'm making my own story for cuz I have no one to really play with‚ but I'm gonna incorporate it once I do as‚ like‚ an alternate-#-universe of what might have been#And only one of said characters is a dragonborn (copper) and I need to know if she's just‚ like‚ partially immune to acid‚-#If she's a magical girl who shoots acid‚ or both...#Anyways sorry for talking your ear off‚ I have‚ like‚ so many other ideas like what accents I think other races would have in Common-#-or what their languages and dialects would sound like in real world terms and stuff so technically I could talk more‚ but I think-#-I've talked quite enough in the tags rambling on...lol-
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Yo imagine instead of being small because Airachnid is vaguely a lady by human standards, what if she was built like a daddy longlegs spider and dwarfed bots after unfolding her copter blades?
They hate to see a girlboss winning 😞😔
#airachnid#tfp airachnid#breakdown#tfp breakdown#he's here for size comparison#transformers#tfp#maccadam#fanart#you'd think that with how i would consider breakdown to be one of my favourites in tfp#the others being all corpses too like skyquake dreadwing and canonically in rid15 predaking too#that i'd probably hate airachnid because she killed him and buried the gays#heh- nah#i WILL say tho- she was underutilised and was only explored as a tool for arcee (and breakdown's death following budget cuts)#i wanted to try out making her a daddy longlegs because i've been thinking about blackarachnia recently (thank you BETCs)#and because ba is a black widow/redback what if airachnid was specifically another spider#and yes daddy longlegs (spiders) are spiders- daddy longlegs are harvestmen and there's a cranefly named daddy longlegs too#there's A FEW different types of daddy longlegs spiders that are at least named spiders but i went with the classic#after having to clarify what i wanted (if you double the length of helicopter blades can you make a daddy longlegs) with my guys#i went ahead and gave airachnid a spider mode to fear#breaky's here because airachnid i think comes up to his hips so don't worry she's not hunting him (yet :) )#can you believe this is the first time drawing airachnid?
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Can love 😍💕💞❤️ bloom 🌻🌼🌹🌷💐 on the 🤜💥 battlefield?? (Patreon)
#Shitpost#My art#Wander Over Yonder#Fist Fighter#Lol#As high-effort as I'm willing to put in to make it appear low-effort <3#Initially based on my silly little Fist Fighter OC(?) with a crush on Peepers - he's already started to morph a bit#Peepers might be a bit too high a station to pursue - shoot for the stars and all that!#But just by the sheer number of Fist Fighters and Watchdogs there's statistically gotta be one apiece that mesh well#And there's nothing that says he couldn't have a crush on Peepers to start! Kind of an ''Oh shit I guess some Watchdogs are kinda cute''#Until that slowly congeals into ''Wait no most of the Watchdogs are pretty cute actually.......uh oh'' lol#If he's gonna stick around he needs a name tho hmmm#Kinda tossing around Keith but I'd like to pull up some references to verbally-named Watchdogs first#That's another thing I've been thinking about - from my recollection/what I've seen in rewatching -#It seems like all the Watchdogs have either masculine or unisex names and are shown to be at least visually understood as male#And depending on how Word Of God you wanna go Craig McCracken has confirmed there are female Watchdogs on their home planet but like#There are feminine names /on/ Wander's list for the Giftening 2 but we only see them sneaking onto the Skullship!#Yes those are almost certainly staff-and-loved-ones Easter eggs >:P Do I care? Am I still going to integrate it into my HCs? Take a guess |D#And anyway that's Just the Watchdogs - unfortunately Awesome's force aren't really seen often enough to get names :(#Hell just finding a speaking line of theirs was a rare treat haha ♪ Up until then I almost thought they were mute!#Seems redundant because like - Bring Back WOY first of all of - but more Fist Fighters! They're too cute!
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VERY early stages of creation!!!!!!! but this is what i've been doing for the last few hours. i wish i could make his eyes look more hollow and deep-set but alas... the limitations of the sims' sliders...
#river dipping#kavi sunder#look at me........ actually in cas making new sims that's so crazy who would've thought#he's probably going to look completely different by the time i finish with him lmao#the fc i'm using for him was actually the fc i was going to use for jackson but then i was like. should this man's name really be JACKSON?#and i'm too emotionally attached to jackson's full name so i couldn't part with it#sfdkjnhdjfngh so now i'm adding another guy to echthroi bc i just really wanted him in there somehow... like the fc is too good to pass up#i'm thinking he's one of theo's classmates like he's not in theo's party/friend group........ but he's on the outskirts trying to get in#again theo is like i'm so unlovable no one likes me and then you look to the left and there's a line of ppl wanting to get to know him#so funny how long this is taking me to finish. like. there's only one skin detail on him rn and all i've done is finish#going thru the makeup categories... 100% true that i take decades on ocs but townies or w/e are like. only thirty minutes to an hour#i was making him while my best friend was sleeping over but now that she's gone i'll try getting some sleep too#i'll get back to it once i wake up bc i've just rlly been in the mood to make sims lately... might have to be a little chef again soon#anyway goodnight friends <3 absolutely forgot to answer those messages from the other day i'm sorry dfjhfhjbb i WILL get to it tho i swear!
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a few days ago i had the epiphany of like, okay, i’m not kidding anybody here and the only people disagreeing with me are figments of past people who float around in my head. i have BPD. and it would take a major fucking overhaul of my entire life and the way that i have operated for seventeen years to say any different. so instead of me saying BPD with fifteen asterisks specifying i am not technically sure and this is medically recognized but not professionally diagnosed etc etc let me just say i have it.
and then now i’m like oh God but what if i don’t have it
#nightmare.personal#like at this point i think the only thing that would convince me is to have a professional say it#but my therapist literally will not diagnose me (for several reasons which are all incredibly valid) and i am not seeing another person#like i am lucky enough that i have a therapist that i can scream at for a session and then the next time talk about my last date or whatever#i don't want to have this label put on me because that's going to fuck up so much about my life#but i am literally never going to be able to get rid of that doubt that's telling me nobody thinks you have BPD you're lying to yourself#and it's like! that's not unreasonable for people to think! i know that i'm 17 and that's young for a diagnosis!#and maybe i'm biased because people have told me to look into BPD because of my behaviors since i was 13#but i've watched testimonial videos and spent hours in forums and talked to people diagnosed with BPD and read articles about it#and i've studied the symptoms like the back of my fucking hand and i've tracked my behaviors and i've done EVERYTHING#and i've considered EVERY other option i've considered: autism ptsd bipolar adhd. to name a few#and NONE of them explained this the ONLY thing that makes sense is bpd#not even other personality disorders explain it it's just this one#and i know people think that you shouldn't seek labels but. i have been looking for a community for so long#and now i think i have one. but i still feel like i don't actually have it#and that everyone thinks i'm lying but just isn't saying anything yet
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