#but to me he is totally a lead guitarist

[sixpennydame]

Oh, just thinking about musician!Levi playing lead guitar for a rock band that's just starting to hit it big. He's not showy - he'd much rather the lead singer take all the attention while he lets his skills on the guitar speak for him. But it doesn't matter, because the women always flock to the front of the stage to stand in front of him anyway. They scream his name, reach their hands out to try and touch the hem or his pants or his boots; they might even try to steal his half-drunk bottle of beer he leaves next to the monitor. But he never even slides an eye down their way. When girls make it backstage to flirt with the bands, he prefers to keep to himself, slumped in a ratty armchair, scrolling through his phone. The fan gossip is that he's just shy and serious, that he's all about the music, not the partying, which is partly true.

Only those who have followed the band from the beginning really know about you. But you're here tonight, standing offstage as the band plays their first big event back in their hometown. They finish the set and run off stage as chants of "encore" fill the space. He makes a beeline directly to you, handing his guitar over to his techie and then pulling you into a kiss. Those standing against the stage see it and start murmuring amongst each other. "Who is that?" "Who's that he's kissing?" "IS HE WITH SOMEONE?"

When they finish playing their encore, he's off again, putting an arm around you and taking you straight to the dressing room. He props a chair against the door handle so no one can get in, and then he's pushing you against the wall, his hands already tearing at your blouse. You smile against his lips. "Can't even take me to a nice hotel first?" He shakes his head. "It's been too long...I need you right now." He fucks you against the thin wall of the dressing room and neither of you try to muffle the screams and moans that come out of your mouths.

After that night, there's no doubt in any fan's mind that Levi is in a serious relationship.

[hiiikiko]

𝕘𝕠𝕠𝕕 𝕝𝕦𝕔𝕜 [2] : casual

“well, back at my house.. i got a california king.”

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

ellie williams x femme!reader | friends with benefits

tlou masterlist | casual masterlist

tw: smut, swearing, alcohol, smoking, and maybe a few more things idk i’m tired leave me alone

⊹�� ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

It had been two weeks, TWO whole weeks since that night with Ellie. The lack of communication after didn’t bother you all that much, I mean, she was in a band after all so you didn’t have much hope to begin with anyway but still, she could at lest acknowledge you at her gigs, not because she slept with you but because you were her drummer’s little sister. Whatever, it totally didn’t bother you. You weren’t going to let yourself get hung up on some girl with an ego too big for her own good, besides, you had a new band to focus on, some small band had reached out to you weeks ago, it was actually one of the reasons you decided to go to Seattle.

After your band broke up all because of some petty drama, you felt lost and then your relationship went to shit. You had no band, no friends, and no real family, you were feeling lost and down on your luck when ding!

thwlves: Hey, we’re a small band from Seattle. We saw your videos and heard your band broke up, wanna join ours? We’d pay for your ticket.

Fuck it, a free ride? That’s all you needed to hear, you packed your bags and left the next day. The day after meeting Ellie, you went to the address they had sent you. You’d seen their videos, they were a pretty small garage band, nowhere near the popularity The Infected had accumulated, they were still in their garage band phase but they did buy you your ticket and you owed them for that. Arriving to the house they sent you, it was nice, in the suburbs, you liked it. There was Abby, the drummer, god, she was built, owen the bassist, and Manny, the lead guitarist. They were all pretty nice people but you soon learned that a Abby and Ellie had unspoken beef, nobody cared to fill you in. Whatever, it didn’t bother you that much.

You and the band had great chemistry, your vocals paired perfectly with what they were going for, a grunge kind of feel, typical for the Seattle Scene. You were finally able to organize a gig at a small hole in the wall bar, the band was all very excited for it, including you. Jesse said he would come, despite his extreme dislike for your newfound friends.

…

The day of the gig, you woke up with a headache from not getting much sleep from the previous night. You had performed in bigger bars so why are you so damn nervous? Maybe it was the fact that Jesse had mentioned that Ellie wanted to come so that she could ‘scout the competition.’

She’s just trying to get a better idea of how battle of the bands will turn out, you reassured yourself.

Getting ready for the gig was actually pretty fun, Jesse’s ‘girlfriend,’ Dina, helped you do your hair and even loaned you a cute little black skirt. You decided to dress up a little but not too much. You wore a flannel, a nod at the gloomy Seattle weather, a black denim mini skirt, and some graphic tee you fished out of Jesse’s closet, paired with fishnets and your docs. You felt good as you made your way downstairs, waiting for Abby to pick you up and take you to get something to eat before y’all headed out.

“Hey,” you looked up from your phone to see Ellie, she was looking you up and down.

“Oh, hey,” you give her a soft smile, hoping things wouldn’t be awkward between the two of you.

“Good luck on your, uh, gig,” Ellie said, you could’ve sworn you detected a hint of sarcasm but before you could confront her, Abby drove up and called out your name. Sneaking one more glance at Ellie, you saw a scowl plastered on her face as she looked in Abby’s direction.

“Bye,” you gave a little wave before jumping into Abby’s van.

“Y/n, what the hell were you doing with her?” Abby looked you up and down, with a hint of disgust.

“Oh, calm down, Abs. She’s just there to see my cousin,” you watched Ellie walk into the apartment building through the rear view mirror, “Nothin’s goin on between us. I promise.”

“Good,” and with that, the rest of the drive was filled with friendly conversation and gossip about Manny’s latest venture.

After dinner, you and the rest of the band headed to the venue, butterflies creeping into your stomach as you thought about all the emerald eyes that would be focused on you but as soon as you made your way onto that stage, all the butterflies fluttered out and fueled your energy. The unfamiliar crowd actually gave you some applause, not as much as they would have given the Infected, but enough to bring a smile onto your face. Everything had been going so good that you almost didn’t notice Ellie, leaning against the bar, whiskey in hand, eyeing your figure with a dark look in her eyes.

When you finished the set list, you made your way through the crowd full of girls telling you how pretty you looked and how good you sounded, guys trying to get with you, and old people telling you how you reminded them from some singer of their childhood, then you finally made your way to the bar. Jesse had his armed draped around Dina and Ellie had hers wrapped around some girl’s waist, pulling her in, a smirk on her lips as she whispered something in her ears. You tried not to stare but it was hard not to when Ellie was eyeing you, almost like she was imagining that you were the one she was holding. God, she really was good, wasn’t she? She knew exactly how to get to you, you don’t know why she was doing it but damn, it was effective.

“Thanks,” you smiled at Dina who was totally fingerling over you, “Anyway, I better head out, I have a job interview tomorrow at Valiant Music Shop.” Jesse had been nagging you about bills and rent so you finally caved in and started your job search, so far the Pinnacle theatre and Barko’s Pet Shop had turned you down.

“‘Bout damn time, you got your lazy ass out,” Jesse said, his accent pulling in strong when he said ‘damn.’

You scoff, “Okay, dad,” Jesse playfully shoves you before wishing you good night and turning around to order another whiskey.

It’s another cold and damn night, you pull the thin flannel tighter around you.

“Cold?” A voice rasps out from behind you.

“What gave you that idea? Was it the way i’m shaking like a newborn deer or the way my nose looks like it belongs to Rudol-,” your breath hitches in your throat when you see it’s Ellie, her hair wet and a red hand print across her cheek as she fishes out a cigarette from her back pocket, “What happened to you?”

Ellie looks almost confused by your question until you point to her cheek, “Oh, little miss ‘I’m your biggest fan’ didn’t like the fact that I was staring’ at you the whole night,’ you can’t tell if she’s being serious or if she’s teasing so you decide to tease her back, “I mean, I did look pretty good up there.”

“Damn right you did,” Ellie puts the cigarette up to her lips, rolling it between her teeth before lighting it.

You thank god that it’s dark right now because if it weren’t, Ellie would’ve gotten a good view of how red your cheeks were. Actually, you couldn’t tell if they were red from how fuckin’ cold it was or from the way Ellie wrapped her jean jacket around you, “Thanks,” you mutter. She smells so good, like American Spirit cigarettes and a woodsy cologne. Ellie edged closer to you and whispered against your neck, “You really did look hot up there.”

She laid a few kisses on your neck, making her way down to the edge of your shirt, she let out a dismayed sigh and pulled up your shirt so that she could continue peppering you with kisses. Your whimpers echoing throughout the alley as her hands found their way under your bra and played with your hardened nipples.

“E-Ellie,” you tug at her belt loop, silently hoping she gets the hint.

“Hm?” she mumbles around your neck.

“Can we go back to your place,” you bashfully whisper.

“You sure about that, doll? Wouldn’t your band mates be mad that their precious singer is gettin’ her pretty cunt toyed with by a member of their rival band, hm?”

Your mind races, she’s right, Abby would be pretty fuckin’ mad but on the flip side, this would just be one off night, right?

“It’s fine, they dont havta know,” you kiss Ellies jawline, feeling her muscles curl into a smile.

“‘Kay, wait here, lemme grab my car.’

The rain pattered on the top of Ellie’s truck, creating a serene atmosphere.

“Fuck, sorry, my roommate just texted, said she has some ‘company’ over, if you get my meanin’.”

“Oh,” you say, trying to hide how disappointed tou really were, “Well, back at my house.. I got a California king..”

“Yea?” Ellie says, even though you can’t see her, you can practically hear the smirk on her lips.

Making your way up the apartment, Ellie ha her hands on your waist and is kissing you against any surface she can, when you reach the apartment, you struggle to fish the key out from your bag and Ellie’s not making it easier. She has her chest pressed against your back, her hand trailing down your skirt and her other hand on your stomach as she kisses your neck, “hurry the fuck up,” she mumbles against your skin, barely audible. Did she mean for you to hear that? You don’t know and nor do you care, you just need to get laid.

When you finally get the door open, Ellie, obviously familiar with Jesse’s apartment from when she used to live there, pulls you into your room and pushes you onto the bed, not breaking the kiss the entire time. She trails her denim clad knee up your leg, nudging them open so she can rub her calloused fingers against your soaking wet underwear.

“Fuck, so wet for me, baby,” she says as your hands trail up her chest, signalling her to take off her shirt. She pulls it off swiftly, her wet hair dripping on your exposed chest, your shirt long forgotten in the hallway.

Your hands go back to her chest, making your way under her bra, pinching her nipples as your knee makes it’s way up so it can nudge against her aching clit.

“Mm, fuck, you’re so good at this,” Ellie whimpers out, her hands guiding yours down to her unbuttoned jeans and into her boxers, where you rub her pretty wet cunt.

“Can’t talk this anymore,” Ellie says through gritted teeth, getting up and pulling off your skirt and underwear along with her jeans and boxers. You sat up as Ellie positions herself so that she’s in between your legs, then she slowly starts to grind herself against you, pretty little moans and ‘fuck’s leave her lips, the sensation of your needy clit rubbing against her filled her with need and a thirst for more of you, especially when you would moan out her name. Ellie opened her eyes and sneaked a glance of you, you looked so fuckin’ lewd, your head thrown back, mouth in a perfect ‘O’ shape, your pretty tits bouncing, beggin for her to use them. She needs more of you, she pulls your leg up over her shoulder so she can get as close to you as possible, your whimpers bouncing off the walls, you were getting so close already and Ellie could tell, her teeth gently digging into your shoulder, sending waves of pleasure to your brain as your pussy clenches around nothing, “Close,” you pathetically whimper out.

“Me, too,” Ellie whimpers, god, she sounds pretty. Her voice a little raspy from the cold but still dripping with need, “Cum f’me, baby, I’ll come with you.”

That was all you needed, your hips bucking up against Ellie’s, your body filling with warmth, your back arching, and your hands roaming over Ellie as you rode out your high. You looked at Ellie, who had her head hanging, hiding her pretty eyes, her pretty tits looked so pretty in the moonlight, and her hands placed firmly on your chest. After she came, she collapsed onto you, letting herself linger for a few minutes, savouring the warmth of your chest pressed against hers, before getting up an putting her clothes back on and saying, “Good luck on your job interview tomorrow, doll,” before winking and heading out into the damp night.

Your mind stil fuzzy, you wrap yourself in your blankets and close your eyes, mind racing about what tomorrow would bring.

…

The next morning, you get dressed and make your way downtown, you had ten minutes to the interview. Wearing the same clothes from last night, you were in a rush and didn’t care to put together a new outfit, and only had enough time to throw your hair into a pony tail and do your makeup so you didn’t look like a background character in Night of the Living Dead.

The chime of a bell welcomes you through the door of Valiant Music Shop, you see a young boy working at the counter, “Morning, I’m here for my interview? My names Y/n.”

His face shows that he knows what you’re going on about, “Alrighty, just hold on a sec and I’ll grab out manger, she’ll be out shortly.”

You nod and turn around to inspect some records behind you, thats when you hear an all too familiar voice, “Morning, doll.”

⊹₊ ˚‧︵‿₊୨୧₊‿︵‧ ˚ ₊⊹

[a/n:] hope y’all liked this :) sorry for getting it out kinda late, i think the next release will be tmrw :)

tag list: @elliessweetheart

[kamaluhkhan]

TIME TO PRETEND

pairing: luke castellan x gn!poseidon!reader word count: 5k chapter summary: you're the eldest child of poseidon and the hero of the last great prophecy. you left your demigod life behind after defeating kronos. now, years later, you find yourself back at camp half blood for the summer.....which means dealing with luke castellan, and all that history (tension?) left unresolved between you. warnings: some nicknames for reader are based on female characters (mermista, sailor neptune) but they're still written as gender neutral. reader has tattoos. mention of alcohol + death (post-titan war). spoilers for the entire pjo (book) series, mostly references to the last olympian. timeline is all over the place but set in the early 2000s for vibes. no betrayal (au where chris was the one who sided w kronos and led the titan army) so slightly ooc luke <3 author's note: welcome to another product of my pjo hyperfixation !!! i wanted to finish the nemesis!reader series first but it's summer and i felt like reworking my tsitp series in a camp half-blood setting with bb luke. so prepare for childhood friends to lovers drama! summertime vibes! nostalgia! angst! would love to know what y'all think about this and if you want a part 2 so feel free to scream at me in the comments. otherwise, enjoy and thanks 4 reading 💙

♪: time to pretend by mgmt

YOU’VE GOT MAIL!

1 new message 

from: LukeNotSkywalker

to: Mermista86

subject: you are GETTING that record deal

Hey,

Your demo CD just came in the mail — and, Connor as my witness, I’ve already listened to it five times!!! 

It’s amazing. You’re amazing. The label would totally lose out if they didn’t sign you. 

Things have been pretty chaotic around here, with the summer term happening soon. Speaking of which: are you coming back? Chiron gave me the list of returning campers and counsellors this morning and said he hadn’t heard from you, so I thought I’d ask. I know you’ll be busy with the band, but if you get the chance, it’d be really great to see you.

Anyways, I’m leading the next Shield & Sword session, so I’d better go. Talk soon ;)

- L

FOUR YEARS LATER

TURBULENT WATERS? ALT-ROCK BAND MIDNIGHT SIRENS HIT ROUGH PATCH AFTER LEAD GUITARIST GETS INTO VIOLENT ALTERCATION 

the cover is the nail in the coffin: a blurry picture of you, an electric blue guitar forgotten at your feet, lunging forward into a crowd, with your bandmates on stage behind you in shock. 

you’d gone all this time without any major incidents, and one stupid chimera managed to burn down everything you worked for in one fell swoop.

“that’d be $8.50,” the cashier informs. 

you tear your attention away from the magazine, instead fishing through your pocket for some change. meanwhile, the cashier furrows their brow, leans down slightly to get a better look at you underneath your sunglasses and baseball cap. 

“hey, do i know you?”

“nope,” you say instantly, slapping a $10 bill onto the counter. “keep the change.” you gather your pile of necessary roadtrip supplies (slushies, m&m’s, and goldfish) before rushing out the door, your half-brother trailing behind you.

you slide into the driver’s seat, set each slushie in a cup holder, and hand the rest to percy once he’s slipped into the passenger side. 

“seatbelt,” you remind him. you shake your hair out after removing your baseball cap disguise. “i promised your mom i’d be responsible.” 

percy does as he’s told, though not without mumbling about how he’s practically an adult and a demigod who’s been in much more dangerous situations than a car ride up to long island. you just tell him to put on some music, even though he has a point. he’ll be 18 in august and you’re only five years older, but the fact is that you gave sally jackson your word. 

plus — you’re his older sibling, so gods forbid you let him get hurt. a seatbelt seems like a band-aid solution for one of the most powerful demigods out there, but still.

percy flips through a few radio stations while he sips his blue raspberry slushie. when he doesn’t find anything good, he opens the glove compartment and surveys your music collection before sliding a cd into the stereo. 

instantly, the familiar sound of david bowie’s voice eases the tension in your shoulders.

“good choice?” 

you nod and percy smiles triumphantly. you reach over to steal a few goldfish from the bag he just opened and ruffle his hair playfully, for good measure. 

you’re perfectly happy, driving along a long island highway while getting lost in the glam rock world of ziggy stardust, but it isn’t long until percy interrupts: 

“are you finally gonna tell me what happened, or do i have to read it from some trashy gossip magazine like everyone else?”

“well, your dyslexic ass can barely read so….”

you look over at him briefly, and laugh when you see him stick his slightly-blue tongue out to you. 

“at least my dyslexic ass is actually decent at ancient greek. luke told me you failed the reading test, like, a million times.”

your heart twinges at the mention of your old friend. 

friend.

if you could still call him that. 

thankfully, percy doesn’t give you much room to dwell on the past, too focused on your drama-filled present.

“so, what is it? you got kicked out of the band? lost everything? have nowhere else to go?”

you roll your eyes at his dramatics. “i did not get kicked out.” 

“then, what happened?”

“just the usual.” you shrug. “monster attack, mortals who can’t see through the mist. i tried to explain it away after — something about how i saw someone in the crowd attack another person and i stepped in to help. most people bought it, but the media loves drama and the label’s worried i’m a flight risk now. apparently, everything will blow over if i just keep a low profile for the next few months. so….no. i didn’t lose everything.” you take a deep, like when anyone other than children of poseidon are about to go underwater and they’re not quite sure when they can come up for air. 

“i just don’t really have anywhere else to go,” you finish.

“damn.” percy offers you a blue shark gummy (or whale - you and percy had already debated the shape of the candy that sally packed for the trip, and the jury’s still out). you gratefully accept. “well, i know it’s not the best reason, but i’m excited to spend the summer together.”

despite everything, you find yourself smiling. 

“me too, kid.” 

“it’d give me a chance to kick your ass in sword-fighting.”

“you wish!” you nudge his shoulder, both of you giggling. once the laughter’s died down, you glance at percy once more. “hey – did you tell anyone i was coming?”

percy shakes his head. “why?”

you take a long swig of your drink until you’re on the brink of brain freeze. 

“no reason.”

it’s just after lunch when you arrive at camp half-blood. 

you weren’t sure what you were expecting — maybe not some futuristic technological developments that had been discovered within the years you were gone, but definitely not for camp to look pretty much exactly the same as when you left. 

instantly, you find comfort in the familiar scenes: a dragon, peleus, guarding the magical borders; dryads and satyrs picking strawberries in the fields next to the forest; chiron standing near the central guidepost, greeting and guiding every camper in the right direction.

chiron smiles down at percy and practically does a double take when his eyes land on you.

“mx. l/n! it has been a while. are you here to drop off your brother, or do you plan on staying for the summer?”

before you can answer, someone appears behind him. 

“perce! hey!” 

“hey, luke.”

luke gives him a side hug, and percy shoves him away with a laugh when he ruffles his hair. it’s then that luke acknowledges you, though he looks like that’s the last thing he wants to do.

“i thought i’d never see you again. what are you doing here? ”

chiron turns to you expectedly. “i believe you have yet to answer that question of mine as well.”

“staying for the summer…” you adjust the shoulder strap of your backpack, uneased by luke’s cold demeanor. “i hope that’s okay.”

“of course!” chiron’s smile grows wide, eyes crinkling. “you’ll resume your position as head counsellor of cabin 3.”

“so i’m dethroned? just like that?” percy guffaws.

you nudge percy’s shoulder. “fulfill the next great prophecy, and then we’ll talk.” 

percy rolls his eyes playfully. luke, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to appreciate your tongue-in-cheek remark. his jaw tightens, and he suddenly finds a deep interest in the clipboard he’s holding.

chiron clears his throat, likely sensing the tension. “yes, well, i’m sure you remember how things work around here. if not, mr. castellan has been keeping this ship afloat. he's always here to help.”

“always.” luke smiles, but it’s elastic, threatening to snap at any moment. someone calls his name, and he walks away to deal with whatever chaos is waiting for him.

summer — age 15

you weren’t exactly conscious when you first arrived at camp half-blood. 

apparently, coach hedge, a satyr and protector, found you just in time and had to practically drag you up half-blood hill after a particularly gruesome fury attack. 

when you woke up and saw luke sleeping next to you in a chair, his curls overgrown and falling onto his eyes, you thought you had died and gone to elysium. 

you took in your unfamiliar surroundings. some sort of infirmary, with only your best friend next to you, the one you hadn’t seen in almost a year since you’d parted ways. 

then, you remembered what was happening before you passed out; it was more likely that you were being tricked into a false sense of security by that fury, who definitely planned on devouring you later.

with a newfound sense of urgency, you decided it was time to get out of there before it was too late. you were reaching for your knife when you felt a hand grab your shoulder. without losing a second, you twisted your body around, weapon at the ready.

whoever it was watching over you sure looked like luke. he was wearing a bright orange shirt and leather cord necklace with one clay bead. another point of difference was the jagged scar that cut across his left cheek.

“it’s just me,” he said, gently. “you’re fine here. you’re safe.”

you weren’t convinced, kept your knife in front of you to keep distance. “prove it.” you narrowed your eyes. “tell me something only luke would know.”

“you’re left-handed.”

“that’s a great observation,” you scoff.

“storm is your favourite x-men character.”

“that’s a very popular opinion.”

“your aunt would make us mango lassi after swim camp when she got home from work,” luke tries for the third time. “and, my mom - she used to call you ‘starfish.’”

your heart skipped a beat.

that was the confirmation you needed. 

the knife dropped from your hand, clattered on the wooden floor, as you pulled luke in for a hug. you were greeted by a familiar scent, that pear shampoo luke loved because it made his hair so soft, mixed with the smell of fresh pine trees. 

“it’s really you,” you mumbled into his shoulder.

despite sleeping for gods know how long, you were exhausted. you rested your weight into luke, but he didn’t seem to care.

“it’s really you. i thought i’d never see you again.”

“where are we?” you asked, breaking away to face luke. you ignored the wooziness you felt throughout your body; luke seemed to sense it, his grip around you tightening. “are annabeth and thalia here, too? how’d you get here?” your thumb traced the unfamiliar scar on his face. “what happened? are you okay —”

“i-i’ll answer all your questions, but you lost a lot of blood.” luke guided you to lay back down in bed. “we’ll explain everything. just get some rest.”

a third scenario entered your mind: this was all a dream. you’d close your eyes and when you opened them again, luke would be gone. you’d be alone again.

you couldn’t let go of luke’s hand, even as he tucked you back into bed. you tugged his wrist, silently urging him to join you.

“will you stay with me?” you finally croaked when he continued standing. 

luke looked at you, and you nodded once as final confirmation. then, he removed his shoes and slipped into the bed next to you. it was luke, all sweet pear and soft curls and strong heartbeat, and you held on to him in fear that he might slip away.

“always,” he whispered.

during the orientation video you were later shown, you learned that camp half-blood’s motto is keeping young heroes safe (mostly) for over three millennia!  

luke had used that word, too. safe.

chiron told you this was to be your new home as he walked you to the poseidon cabin. he told you that you were safe now, though you noticed how the word almost got caught in his throat. he gave you a sad smile you didn’t quite understand.

you did wonder, at first, if those words were true: this place, a home for you and other children of gods. somewhere safe.

and, well.

you came to understand chiron’s general melancholy a few weeks later, and every week after that. he was used to training and sending heroes off to their potential death, and you would be no different. stolen lightning bolts, deadly quests, cryptic prophecies. a pending war between divine forces you had been entangled with long before you knew. heartache and betrayal and loss beyond measure. 

but, there were other things, too. 

annabeth, fitting in perfectly at the athena cabin, continued being her genius self, leading her team to victory every capture the flag game. she was extra patient in helping you with ancient greek, especially after chiron had given up.

chris rodriguez, luke’s half-brother, would tell you jokes from across the dining pavilion, knowing that you hated sitting alone at the poseidon table. michael yew, son of apollo, taught you how to play guitar at the bonfire one week; you’d ask for more and more lessons until you could start playing on your own. charles beckendorf made you a celestial bronze sword that shone like that burst of light when the sun hits the ocean at sunset. it transformed into a ring that you would never take off, unless in battle. you might not have gotten along with mr. d, but you spent free time picking fresh strawberries with his son, castor. you made matching friendship bracelets with silena beauregard, who was really the only person you confided in, about how you maybe possibly felt something other than friendship when it came to luke. she told you about her crush on clarisse larue, the daughter of ares whom you would always partner with during sparring practice. you taught ethan nakamura, who didn’t have his own cabin as the child of nemesis, how to properly hold a sword. thalia’s tree stood tall at the top of the hill where you almost bled to death, protecting you and everyone inside the magical borders. you, annabeth, and luke would share a picnic there every thursday.

you had been on the run for so long, always looking over your shoulder for monsters, sleeping with one eye open to be one step ahead of death, jumping from one place to the next so quickly to avoid danger.

so, yes. 

it was nice to stay in one place, where you knew you were as safe as demigods could be. it was nice to spend your time learning and training and laughing instead of just surviving. 

it was nice to have a place to call home. and people to call it home with.

now 

the first week passes in the blink of an eye, and it’s like you never left.

tie-dye, volleyball, strawberry picking, kitchen duty, and cabin inspection. 

luke has everyone on a tight schedule — one, you notice, conveniently places the two of you at opposite ends of camp at all times.

still, you catch up with clarisse and the stoll brothers, spend time with annabeth and percy, say hi to pollux and katie gardner and others you vaguely recognize as five years older than what you remember. there are also a lot of faces you don’t recognize at all.

of course, you try not to think about the faces you wished you could see: friends you grew up with and would never have a laugh with again, younger campers you had trained who would never grow up. all lost because of the gods and the titans and a prophecy you never asked to be a part of. 

it’s a side effect of being back here; their ghosts are harder to ignore.

again — trying not to think about it.

anyways.

climbing wall, armory, sword-fighting practice, archery field, and free time on the beach.

to conclude: capture-the-flag, a friday night camp-half blood tradition.

you’re praising annabeth for her latest strategy that led to blue team victory when you notice luke. he was also on the blue team, but instead of celebrating with the rest of you, he’s speaking to someone who’s wearing a red helmet. they seem to be in a heated discussion, one that luke is not wanting to continue. his tells are the same, after all these years: the impatient tapping of his foot, his eyes searching for an out.

you give it to him.

“sorry, i need to borrow this guy.” you say, grabbing luke’s wrist. “camp emergency.” 

if the person said anything, you didn’t hear it, because you were already dragging luke away from the crowd, towards the armory shed. 

“what’s the emergency?” luke wonders, brows furrowed in concern. he has deep shadows under his eyes, too. keeping the ship that is camp half-blood afloat has clearly taken a toll on him. 

“you wanting to get out of that conversation. you’re welcome.” you wink at him; luke flushes, and you’re not sure if it’s because he’s annoyed, or if he's just flustered. “so, are you gonna keep ignoring me the whole summer?”

you put your helmet on one of the shelves and turn back to luke. you expected him to start removing his armor as well, but he doesn’t. he just glares at you, arms crossed over his chest.

so, he’s annoyed, then. 

“what do you expect?” luke hisses. “you can’t come back here and pretend that everything can be like it was when we were kids. things are different now, especially between us.”

you decide to take him up on his challenge. 

“oh? tell me, luke, what exactly is different between us?”

luke shakes his head in disbelief. you remove your chest plate, and that’s when the tattoo on your waist becomes visible. it’s a magnolia, like one of the flowers that bloomed on the tree outside may castellan’s house. 

something in luke softens, then. he sighs. 

“you could have at least given me a warning.”

he storms off, and you’re left half-armored, wondering what he meant by that.

you figure it out once a few of you settle down for a late-night, underground poker game, and you’re trying not to stare at luke’s hands.

it starts with you telling yourself that you’re just trying to predict what cards he’s holding, figure out if he’s bluffing, and if he’s about to lose everything he’d so confidently bet on. 

but then you notice the silver thumb ring that thalia got him for his 17th birthday. you notice an array of hair ties and elastic bands he keeps just in case a camper needs them, and woven bracelets given to him by his admirers. you notice how the tattoo on his wrist is covered. (it’s hidden well, but you know it’s there — you’d gotten one of a wing, the kind that might be found on a pair of magical red converse, at the same time)

you also notice the forest green painted on luke’s nails, the same shade worn by the person beside him.

van, the new head counsellor of the hephaestus cabin. you’d seen them at staff meetings, but you somehow did not notice that they were dating luke. 

he moved on — is that why luke needed a warning? is that what's changed between you?

it’s fine. whatever. so what if luke has a new partner? it’s not like the two of you were anything, officially. 

luke has a new partner. they’re wearing matching nail polish. they’re one of those couples.

well, van is also wearing a nickleback shirt and luke hates nickleback, unless that fundamental part of his personality changed, too. 

“yo, sailor neptune. you in or not?” travis brings you out of your daze, by using a nickname luke once called you.

back before becoming heroes, when you and luke were just kids, you’d watch cartoons in his living room on saturday mornings — x-men, she-ra: princess of power, teenage mutant ninja turtles, sailor moon. a lifetime ago.

you look around the table and see that everyone has been waiting for you to take your turn. even luke raises an eyebrow at you.

“yeah.” you clear your throat and throw some chips into the centre. “i’m in.”

you have decent enough cards to keep you in the game, and you’re comfortable that you can play the odds in your favor. the stoll brothers are good liars, you know that, and so is luke. malcolm pace is good at strategy, but thankfully not as good as his half-sister annabeth. pollux, who had invited you to the game, already folded along with butch, the son of iris who has a rainbow tattoo on his bicep to prove it. beside you, lou ellen, daughter of the hecate, contemplates her next move. clovis has fallen asleep, true to their title as head counsellor of the hypnos cabin. you can’t get a read on van, but they keep raising the stakes so confidently, and you’ve always liked a good challenge.

soon enough, it’s only you and van in the bet. when it comes time to reveal your cards, you curse yourself for overplaying your hand.

“good game,” van says to you as they collect their winnings. “you really had me going there.” 

“yeah.” your smile is strained, but it’s there nonetheless. “tried my best.”

“guess the curse of achilles doesn’t help as much in poker as it does in capture the flag.” 

“excuse me?” you raise an eyebrow.

luke, who had one arm casually draped around van’s chair the entire game, pulls away. “van, maybe don’t —”

“it’s not like it’s a secret, luke. they’re the prophecy kid, everyone knows they bathed in the river styx to be able to fight kronos. it’s camp legend.”

other than you, luke, and van, everyone else is occupied with something else. connor busies himself shuffling the cards, while lou ellen, malcolm, and pollux get up for more drinks. it seems like butch and travis have their own bet going to see who can balance the most chips on clovis’ forehead without waking him up. 

van waits for an answer. you’re a little queasy, and it’s not from the wine pollux managed to snag from his dad’s office. you’re suddenly faced with the reality that your life is reduced to a legend. you try your best to swallow that feeling, of being made into a greek tragic hero while your heart is still beating, and your life is still a mess.

“that’s relevant, why?”

“just that some people might consider the invulnerability thing an unfair advantage in physical competitions like capture the flag,” van explains. “increased strength and all that.” 

“that would mean nothing without a good strategy,” you counter.

“that’s what i said,” luke grumbles. 

you recognize van now as the person luke was arguing with earlier. it must have been about this. 

about you. 

“okay, y’all were best friends, so luke is obviously going to take your side.”

you’re not sure what stings more: friends or were. 

“although, he never really talks about you, which is weird because you’re, like, famous in and outside camp.”

ouch. that definitely stings the most. luke winces slightly, almost like he feels it, too.

“alright, alright,” connor interjects, shuffling the cards in his hands. “another round?” 

you’re the only one who decides to call it a night. everyone says goodbye; even van, who’s blissfully unaware of the effect their words had on you. luke avoids your gaze. the game continues without you.

percy’s snoring provides enough cover as you sneak into your shared cabin. you try to sleep, but it doesn’t come easy. 

you feel the spot underneath your rib, the one spot you’re truly vulnerable, ache.

summer — age 17

for the first time in your life, you couldn’t breathe underwater. you were swimming in acid, and your skin was melting away.

at least, that’s what it felt like to bathe in the river styx. achilles could have mentioned that, but all he gave was a cryptic warning about anchoring yourself to what makes you mortal.

you really tried at first. you thought about your friends at camp. you thought about percy, about your aunt back when she was still around. you even thought about may castellan, burnt cookies and saturday mornings.

the pain was too much, though. 

you were forgetting where you were, who you were. with every passing second, you were dissolving into nothing.

“if you wanted to go for a swim, you should have told me. i would have worn my swimsuit.”

luke’s voice echoed across the waves. you tilted your head up to see him sitting on the dock above you, his feet dangling into the water. he had rolled up his jeans to just above his ankles so they didn’t get wet, but his shoes were still on, which was a bit strange. the sun made his eyes look like burnt amber, his teeth sparkling as he smiled at you. 

okay. cool.

you were at camp. it was mid-afternoon, free period. the two of you had been at the edge of the lake, until you became impatient and jumped in, fully clothed. behind him, you could see that annabeth, thalia, and percy were waiting for you on the shore. they were each wearing orange camp shirts, which was also strange; you couldn’t remember a time when you were all there together, as campers.

“we better go, sailor,” luke said, amusement laced throughout his words. “come on. those cabins aren’t gonna inspect themselves.”

luke extended his hand to you. when you hesitated, he added:

“i can’t do this without you. will you stay with me?”

you reached up and grabbed luke’s hand.

always.

you emerged from the water, catching your breath as you collapsed on the sand. 

“oh gods. are you okay?”

your cousin, nico diangelo, son of hades, knelt down next to you. he tried to check your pulse, but you waved him away. your eyes searched for luke, but he wasn’t there, despite feeling the ghost of his hand in your own. 

oh.

you weren’t at camp; you were in the underworld. it was nico’s idea for you to take on the curse of achilles so that you’d be strong enough to face kronos. 

“did it work?”

you got up, a bit uneasy on your feet at first. nico helped steady you, his hands cold on your skin.

you felt….stronger wasn’t the right word. you felt adrenaline coursing through your veins, like you could swim across the biggest ocean without pausing once. like you could defeat an entire army and not break a sweat. maybe even take down a titan or two while you're at it.

you needed to see luke again, to meet him and the others in manhattan before it was too late.

“let’s hope so.”

now

you always loved mornings at camp half-blood. the beach was particularly beautiful at sunrise, the water peaceful.

the morning after that impromptu poker game, you need that peacefulness to wash over you. you’re awake after a rather sleepless night, deciding to go for a quick run before breakfast. you get dressed and grab your mp3 player, as quietly as you can to avoid waking up percy (who, truthfully, could probably sleep through a hurricane anyways). 

you jog from one end of the beach to the other. you set a steady rhythm, somewhere between the beat of your music and the sound of waves gently washing over the shore. when you make your way back down to where you started, you notice someone sitting nearby.

luke doesn’t say anything when you first sit next to him. he’s wearing a dark blue hoodie over his usual orange shirt, a cigarette tucked behind his ear. you imagine that he confiscated it from a camper on the way here. 

“morning,” he finally whispers, eyes fixed towards the ocean. 

you shiver, and not just from the cool morning air. you’re reminded of the last time luke spoke to you so softly, the last time you’d caught an early morning sunrise together. such a contrast to where you are now.

“morning,” you finally reply. 

as the sound of waves fills the silence between you, luke surprises you by taking a lighter out of his pocket. he lights the cigarette and takes a puff. then, he hands it to you. 

it’s such an odd, though not unwelcomed, gesture. a peace offering, you figure, but it’s just so not luke that you can’t help yourself.

“is golden boy luke castellan, offering me contraband? what planet am i on?”

the hint of a smile creeps onto his face. “like i said: things are different now,” he echoes his words from the night before, but this time you don’t sense any hostility.

you take a drag of the cigarette. your fingers brush against his when you return it to him.

you decide to offer a peace offering as well, and present to him one of your earbuds — he accepts. you have to slide across the sand to move closer to him, but he doesn’t seem to mind. 

i’m feelin’ rough, i’m feeling raw / i’m in the prime of my life….

as the song plays, you glance to see luke nodding along, tapping a finger on his knee to the beat. he lets the cigarette smoulder in his other hand.

we’re fated to pretend / to pretend / yeah, yeah, yeah….

when the song is over, luke turns to you. 

“new group?” he brings the cigarette to his lips, then gives it back to you.

“kinda.” you inhale, letting the smoke warm your lungs before explaining. “this is considered they’re breakthrough album. they’re from connecticut, actually.”

“oh, yeah? guess that’s where all the talent is from.”

luke bumps his shoulder against yours knowingly. you feel your cheeks heat up at his praise, his witty sincerity.

this is familiar — you and luke, at the beach, sharing music. it’s familiar, and for a few moments, you can act like there isn’t a wall between you, of unresolved feelings and harsh words. you can pretend that nothing has changed.

“you know, nickleback are from connecticut, too. which means you just called them talented.”

luke coughs on some smoke as he exhales with a laugh. “what? no i didn’t!”

“in a roundabout way. i always knew you were an undercover fan,” you tease.

“i have better taste than that.”

“do you?”

“you’re fucking with me,” luke deadpans.

you crack a smile. “yeah, i’m fucking with you.”

“gods, you scared me for a second,” he laughs, and you can’t help but follow. luke glances at you and the sunshine highlights his smile, his dark brown curls, the ever-changing color of his eyes. golden, radiant. 

you shiver again, looking away. before you know it, you feel something draped across your shoulders.

“i’m not sure van would like it if i was wearing your hoodie.” you joke, but your words are laced with a bitterness you hope luke doesn’t catch. unlucky for you, luke still knows you too well, whether he likes it or not.

“you don’t get to do that.”

“do what?”

luke scoffs. “be jealous.” 

“well, you don’t get to tell me how to feel.”

“so, you are jealous?”

you exhale sharply; you can practically feel the wall between you two reappear.

“it’s too early, lu. and i’m too hungover to deal with this.”

there’s nothing more left to say. you get up, throw his hoodie on the sand, and walk back towards your cabin, the beach and luke further away with every step you take.

it makes sense that way: you were always the one to leave first.

[bombuni]

the post-show high

summary: Jongho spots you in the crowd once and can’t let go of you. Unfortunately, so does Yeosang. Good thing they don’t mind sharing. (Or Seonghwa and Hongjoong are terrible wingmen, but they get the job done.) genre/pairing: lead singer!jongho x reader x bassist!yeosang, smut, band au, ft. drummer!mingi, guitarist!hongjoong & seonghwa’s there for vibes wc: 4.8k (i have issues when it comes to jongsang) warnings: SMUT MDNI, threesome, cursing, mentions of drinking, mean!dom!jongho, soft!dom!yeosang, sub!fem!reader, fingering champions jongsang, box munching king jongho, name-calling (jongho loves sluts), edging, creampies, spit kink, degradation, finger sucking, sloppy seconds, sort of cum-eating, aftercare, idk why it gets so soft at the end bom note: i had this thought and i said ‘i must bring chino moreno jongho to life’ jongsang stans pls fw my vision. also here’s a playlist i made! i think the music they’d make in this au is very much deftones style. lmk if i missed anything for the warnings!

It’s hot.

You don’t mind supporting Hongjoong and Mingi in their musical escapades, but it’s crowded. When they’d told you they were in a band, you half-expected them to be playing in a low-down unknown bar with 2 patrons. You hadn’t expected to be crowded by fans, all (not) patiently waiting for the set to start. Seonghwa stood beside you, pouting every time he was shoved into. He looked out of place, elegant and prince-like in a sea of punk-rockers wearing crust pants and in yesterday’s makeup.

He seems at ease, though. Having been to multiple of Hongjoong’s shows at this point, he’s become accustomed to the intense pits, the broken noses, and the lingering stench of weed. The multitudes of drinks he’s been having seem to help too. You stand by and watch as his cheeks get redder and redder throughout the night.

He points his drink at you while he speaks, “You know, Hongjoong wants to set you up with the singer, Jongho. Said he seems like your type,”

You scoff at that, “No way! The last guy he tried to set me up with ended up being a total weirdo,”

Seonghwa rolls his eyes, “A foot fetish isn’t the weirdest thing out there. Besides, Yunho’s actually pretty cool,” he raises his brows at you, but continues when he sees you’re not changing your mind, “Fine. Go with my option. I wanted to set you up with their bassist. You like nice guys, right?”

The lights dim, giving you an easy out to Seonghwa’s terrible match-making ideas, “The fact you think I’m ever trusting you or Hongjoong again is laughable.”

Seonghwa can’t respond as the band steps on stage, a rush of excitement flowing through you when you see Hongjoong and Mingi in their spots. They both wave at you in the front row, Hongjoong’s smile growing extra wide when he sees Seonghwa. The bassist smiles at the crowd, his pink cheeks shining in the light. You wonder how such a cherub-looking guy ended up in a hard band like this. Though, his black tank top revealing his muscular form makes your head spin from how different his body is from his innocent-looking face.

Hongjoong seems at home on the stage, “How we doing tonight?” His hype seems to work as the crowd cheers loudly and unapologetically, “Thanks to KQ bar for having us. I’m Hongjoong, that’s Yeosang, our bassist, and we got Mingi on drums. Seems like we’re missing someone, though,”

Mingi’s voice rumbles through the microphone, “Bring Jongho out!”

The crowd seems to squish you impossibly more, their screams nearly drowning your own thoughts. Rightfully so, as the lead singer walks out with a confidence that you envy. His leather pants shine under the stage lights, and he seems to bask in the attention he gets. His smirk grows with every step he takes towards the main stage. You feel he’s cocky, and you hate that you like it.

“Hello, KQ,” He seems to command the room, silence enveloping the crowd when he speaks, “I’m glad you could make it tonight-“

Jongho scans the crowd, but he seems to pause at the sight of you. He still wears the smug look, ego wafting in the room and getting under your skin. It’s a smaller venue and you’re somewhat close, so it’s easy to tell that he’s staring at you and no one else.

He points directly at you, finger seemingly digging into your soul, “Let’s have fun tonight.”

With that, the set starts. Mingi’s drums burst through your chest, the slow start to their first song hypnotizes you. The sound of the bass is what draws you in, and you look towards Yeosang, who’s putting his entire heart into the sound. His fingers are delicate and pretty, the complete opposite to most bass players you’ve seen. They strum expertly, long digits reaching to find the right note every time. You figure they could reach anywhere.

He must feel your eyes on him. Yeosang looks up with a focused, stoic look plastered on his face as he watches the scenery. As he looks around you lock eyes with him, a shy smile growing on his face when he realizes you aren’t looking away. It seems to fuel his performance when he goes back to looking down at his bass.

The music is intense, Hongjoong and Mingi clearly pouring their passion into it. You know them and expected this fervor, but it surprises you when it comes from Jongho and Yeosang too. Jongho’s voice sends chills down your spine with every high note sung. It reaches out to you, pulling the passion and feeling from you and taking that energy for his own growth. Watching him is watching art being made.

The set ends, and the 4 sweaty men on stage bow and thank the crowd. You feel Jongho’s eyes on you again, that same soul-marking finger calling your attention to wink at you before he walks off the stage. Yeosang seems to call your attention too, a subtle wave landing your way before he too disappears behind the curtain.

As the lights flicker back on, Seonghwa turns to you with a sparkle in his eye, “That was amazing! We need to go buy them drinks,”

You shrug, imposing nonchalance even though your face is turning red at the thought of meeting face to face with them after that, “Sure, sounds good.”

Seonghwa raises a brow before laughing at your reluctance, “Don’t think I didn’t see that by the way. Yeosang was totally into you,”

You scoff and turn to walk towards the bar, “Shut up, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa harrumphs, but follows behind you. It’s easy to spot Hongjoong’s blonde head of hair among the sea of people, “Joongie, stop hogging all the talent,”

He turns laughing at you, his warm arms wrapping around you, “Can’t stop, won’t stop, baby,”

“Hongjoong! That was your best performance yet. But can we talk about how Yeosang was totally eye-fucking Y/N the entire time?” Seonghwa’s somewhat tipsy, you conclude.

Hongjoong leans on the bar, “Uh…no. I’m still betting on Jongho and her. You know he was asking about you?”

You roll your eyes at their insistence, “You just finished a set, why're you worried about my love life?”

Hongjoong rolls his eyes at you as he’s given a tray of drinks, handing some off to you and Seonghwa before walking ahead, “Come on, Jongho wants to meet you.”

He leads you towards the backstage. Hongjoong opens a door marked with a flimsy sheet of notebook paper, their band name written in purple marker. You hear Jongho’s voice before anything else. It’s embedded in your brain at this point. As you walk further in, his large frame and slicked back hair intimidates you. You fear you’ve fallen for him already. With his hands in his leather jacket, he greets you with a lazy smirk. You can feel the stardom radiating off of him. It lets you know that whatever arrogance he has is completely warranted.

Before you can even say anything, Hongjoong makes a dumb excuse about forgetting something that requires him, Seonghwa, and Mingi. They leave quickly, knowing your protests would come faster.

You sigh inwardly to yourself, but Jongho seems all too pleased to be alone with you, “How ‘bout a drink?”

He sits on the battered leather couch, legs spread and waiting for you to sit next to him. He raises a brow when you sit on the seat opposite him before handing you a shot glass, “Hongjoong said you’re looking for a date,” His voice is quieter, softer now. There’s certainly a step down from his stage presence to the Jongho you’re talking to now. Maybe you were just being harsh in the assumption he’d be a pompous asshole earlier. You don’t let yourself soften, though.

You snort, “Well, Hongjoong doesn’t know what he’s talking about,”

Jongho downs his glass in a flash, turning to you with a charming smirk that makes you want to kiss it off his face, “So it’s off the table?”

He says this like it’s an easy, everyday question. His poignant flirting sends a blush to your cheeks that glows under the dim lightbulb of the broken down room. Jongho thinks it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen. You down your shot and he’s ready to up the ante on the flirting before Yeosang appears, wiping a towel over his sweaty face and greeting you with a soft smile that sends butterflies down your tummy.

“Yeosang, this is-“

“Y/N, right? Seonghwa told me about you. How’d you like the show?”

God, you did not expect a voice like that, to come out of a face like that. His brown hair sticks to his forehead and his pale skin glows under the light, those same fingers you were admiring on stage are much more daunting close-up. They distract you as he taps on the arm of the seat across you, almost tauntingly.

“Oh-um, it was great. You guys seem to really enjoy what you do,”

They stare at you with half-lidded gazes, like they’re chewing on your words in their heads and analyzing you as a person. You’d believe they hate you, if it weren’t for the teasing, venemous grins they wore on their faces. They’ve been around groupies long enough to recognize them, and you might not be one of them, but God, Jongho wants to train you until you only remember their names.

Jongho doesn’t take his eyes off you, but he addresses Yeosang, “Y/N was just telling me about how much she loves the band,”

Yeosang leans his head on the palm of his hand, his biceps popping in the lighting, “Hmm, do you?”

You scoff to try to shake off their gazes, reaching for another glass, “You guys believe Hongjoong way too much,”

Jongho grins at you like a predator, “I heard it from Mingi,”

Yeosang’s smile is teasing, “I heard it from Seonghwa,”

You’re outnumbered, so you don’t even bother saying anything about the teasing. The overflowing chatter outside and booming music drowns out any thoughts you attempt to have. You fear they can somehow hear your beating heart, like they’re zeroing in on you and preparing to eat you alive. Yeosang’s hands tap against the chair again, your eyes flying to study the way they flex.

Jongho pipes up again, “You seem to like Yeosang’s hands a lot. You know, he’ll play whatever song you like.”

Yeosang stretches his fingers, watching the way your blush grows and the way your grasp tightens against the glass in your hand, “I’ll do whatever you want,”

Yeosang stands from his seat and moves to stand in front of you. It forces your eyes upwards, his body heat and proximity turning your entire body into jelly. Suddenly, Jongho speaks up and his soft voice is the worst vice you’ve faced yet, “Why don’t you let us give you a private show? Hmm?” His head tilts softly, the smug smile on his face as he leans back into the couch filling you with annoyance and desire.

You nod softly, mind a haze and heat pooling inside you. Yeosang reaches his hand up to your chin, pulling your mouth open with his thumb before pushing it between your lips. He watches with rapt interest as your tongue swirls around his digit, lips fighting to pull all of the sweat clean off his hand. The sound turns them on more than ever, the feeling of your saliva coating his fingers fueling the fire in his gut. He removes his thumb, playing with your lips as you leave tiny kisses over his fingers before he inserts his forefingers. You work on them again, saliva strings building between his hand and your mouth every time he pulls away.

“You’re nasty, baby,” Jongho’s smug voice pipes up.

Once Yeosang deems his hand wet enough he sits down next to you, slowly trailing his hand down your tummy and into your jeans. It’s a tight fit, but Jongho reaches over to unbutton your pants for him. As soon as he does, Yeosang’s hand slips into your panties and finds your clit, rubbing gentle circles over it and groaning at the wetness that grows underneath his fingers.

Jongho seems content with watching you break. You writhe underneath Yeosang’s fingers as he expertly finds just the right spot and abuses it. You feel dirty with the wet spot that continues to grow on your pants, quiet moans filling the room alongside Yeosang’s panting breaths. Your hand grasps Yeosang’s when he runs his fingers along your folds, spreading your wetness against your skin and moaning at the feeling of you so turned on. He takes his hand out of your pants, the shine of your slick glistening in his eyes. He brings his forefingers to his lips, running his tongue along the length of them before he sucks them clean. He makes sure to be lewd about it, licking every single drop of your juices and smiling at you with your slick on his lips.

“Hmm, you liked that didn’t you?” Jongho hums as he stands to you, pulling your pants off in one swift motion. He kneels in front of you, running his palm over your wet panties. His large hand is different from Yeosang’s delicate fingers. He has a domineering touch that doesn’t stop as he holds your thighs over his shoulders, pulling your panties down. His hands send tingles of pleasure down your spine when he kneads your skin, taking his time to feel and memorize every inch of you.

Jongho’s fingers run through your slit, smearing the wetness that drips out of you. He teases you, watching as your impatience grows while his fingers stray from where you want them most. Suddenly, his lips are on you. He devours you like you’re the first meal he’s had in days, a man starved of the fruit between your legs. His tongue slips inside you and over you, tracing every inch of you and leaving a path of pleasure. He ravishes you while Yeosang watches beside you, his hands making quick work of your shirt.

They seem to have developed a system. They’re far too comfortable with sharing. The thought doesn’t really form in your head as Jongho keeps marking you with his mouth, small kisses landing anywhere he can reach. He smirks at you when a whine slips from your lips when he spreads your thighs further, a glob of spit flowing from his pouty lips and onto you. He hisses at the sight, the shine of your pussy filling his gut with desire. His lips latch back onto your clit, his forefingers making their way inside you. He curls them ever so slightly, fucking you over and over again as his tongue flicks your button. Jongho’s already figured out how you work, destroying you with a smile and a glint in his eyes from below.

Yeosang giggles when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra, “You got a nice rack.”

You admit if anyone else spoke those words to you, you would’ve found it demeaning. But the way Yeosang’s soft voice compliments you sends a new wave of flames over your body.

Jongho grins and removes his lips from you, “Knew you were a fucking slut,”

You shake your head, but Jongho’s got you pegged. The feeling of having two men’s attention on you at once is exhilarating. It has you on cloud nine. Jongho raises the speed of his fingers, the squelch of your pussy sounding out into the room. Yeosang’s hands fondle your tits, his thumb brushing over your nipple and bringing a sigh out of you.

He sends butterfly kisses down your jawline, “Hmm, she’s a nice slut, though. The prettiest one I’ve seen,”

He’s too angelic. Everything about him is elegant and graceful, even the way he touches you. His low tone vibrates through your body, clashing with the harsh way Jongho keeps fucking you. He dominates the lower part of you, as if his hands have found their home. The juxtaposition between them sends your system into overdrive.

“You wanna cum?” You nod frantically, “Use your words, slut.”

“P-please, Jongho…”

Yeosang coos, “Even the way she begs is cute,”

Your legs are shaking at this point and Jongho’s cock is leaking in his pants, weeping to be let out. Still, he lives to torture, “You can’t cum without my permission,” Your leg muscles clamp up, pouring all of your energy into not letting your orgasm slip out of you. Jongho notices your strain, “Look at you. What a good fucking slut you are.”

His fingers slip out of you and you whine at the loss, Yeosang’s gentle fingers playing with your nipples is simply not enough friction. Jongho stands, pulling you up with him, “If you can take Yeosang’s cock, I’ll let you cum on mine. Deal?”

You don't even understand what you’re agreeing to, but you follow Jongho’s orders. You feel Yeosang stand behind you, his arms wrapping around your torso and walking you until you’re in front of the coffee table in the middle of the room. He bends you over it, your knees knocking onto the soft carpet underneath. You don’t think about how long ago it must’ve last been cleaned. You just think about Jongho sitting cross legged on the couch in front of you, his hand resting on his hard cock in his pants. He’s eyeing you like a piece of meat as Yeosang leans over your back, his nose nuzzling against your hair. His long fingers run over the expanse of your back, the cold feeling sending shivers down your spine.

He leans back and spreads your ass, groaning at the sight of you dripping. You hear the sound of his belt buckle dropping and your nerves rise before a soothing hand drops onto your hips, massaging your skin. His voice rings right into your ear, “Don’t worry, angel. I’m not as mean as Jongho,” Said man scoffs, the slightest hint of a blush noticeable under the light. Before you can say anything, Yeosang’s cock teases your entrance, playing with your pussy with his tip. The feeling makes you whine, already edging into dangerous territory.

Yeosang slides in entirely, his long cock reaching the deepest parts of you. Your entire body goes numb as he gently thrusts, bouts of pleasure rising through every part of your body. He’s whining pathetically, trying not to lose his mind and keep control at the feeling of your pussy squeezing him, “S-she’s so tight, Jongho, shit.”

Jongho’s fidgeting in his seat, palming himself like there’s no tomorrow and attempting to hide how weak he is already, “How tight, Yeosang?”

Yeosang steadies himself on your hips, the speed of his thrusts increasing. He’s like a desperate puppy trying to get his rocks off, his sweaty shirt on your back as he leans his head on your shoulder. He’s lost himself to the pleasure. He moans into your ear, his heavy breaths a performance made just for you.

“This is the best pussy I’ve had. Right, angel? You’re being good for me?” he pants out.

You moan at the praise, “Y-yes, Yeosang, all for you,”

Jongho’s restless now. Watching the way the table shakes from Yeosang’s thrusts and the way you take it so well has him anxious to get inside of you. His cock strains in his pants, but he’ll wait until Yeosang’s had his fill. Yeosang’s balls slap against your ass, the lewd sounds of his cock ramming in and out of you filling Jongho’s ears. You feel yourself dripping down your thighs as Yeosang’s hand comes down to your clit. That seems to reignite you, an unbeatable wave of pleasure flooding over you. As Yeosang rubs circles on you, you clench down on him. He moans at the tightness, his hips and hand stuttering against you.

Jongho senses your struggling, “Remember what I said, slut,” your thighs tremble, “Or are you too cock-dumb right now?”

You shake your head but quickly fix your mistake, “N-no, Jongho,”

Your voice shakes against Yeosang’s hips pistoning into you, all rhythm lost as he chases his high. He’s practically breathing for you now, his arms wrapped around your chest while his head rests on yours. He exerts all of his power, which is quite a lot surprisingly, into making you feel every inch of his cock. Jongho’s eyes bore into yours as he watches you unravel, your glistening skin and teary eyes making his cock jump.

Just to make your torture worse, he leans into your face. His thumb pries open your lips, inviting itself into your mouth and taking control of you, “You’re the best cock-slut I’ve seen. Taking Yeosang so well. Is he making you feel good?”

His voice is silky and entrancing and you can’t help but give an honest answer, “S-so good, Jongho. Can I cum? Please?”

His sick smirk grows, “Nope.”

A desperate whine drips from your lips, the burning desire bursting through to Yeosang’s cock as you squeeze him again. This time, a myriad of beautifully pathetic whines fall from Yeosang’s lips as he’s drained by you. He stills deep inside you, letting himself fill you and mark you as his property. He watches it drip down your thighs, the pearlescent liquid falling in droplets as you tremble.

Yeosang catches you before you can fall onto the table, “I think she’s broken,”

He carries you, again with surprising ease, onto Jongho’s lap. You lay limp against him, the leather of his jacket waking you slightly as he wraps his arms around you, “Already? I haven’t even fucked you yet,”

You nod your head, “I-I can take it, I wanna cum, Jongho,”

He laughs at you, head tipping and revealing the kissable dot on his neck, “See? You’re a fucking slut, baby,” his arms wrap tighter around you, one of his hands coming down to your clit and rubbing lazily, “Don’t you worry. I’ll take care of you,”

Yeosang sits next to you, sitting and watching the way your pussy tries to keep his cum inside. Jongho’s fingers stuff it back in, catching any that’s still stuck on your thighs and putting it back where it belongs. He brings his hand up to your lips, your mouth opening automatically and accepting what he gives. Your tongue swirls to clean every inch of his hand, licking the sweat and cum off of his skin. Jongho lets out a shaky breath behind you.

Yeosang feels his cock standing again, the sight of you so easily submitting to Jongho getting him ready to go all over again, “Fuck, I need to feel that pussy again.”

Jongho unzips his pants underneath you. You feel his cock at your entrance as he slides it in between your folds, wanting to torture you even more. He’s smaller than Yeosang but much, much thicker. Yeosang’s cum lets you take Jongho’s cock much easier, the stretch from before easing him in. You moan at the feeling, the fullness overtaking your senses.

Jongho leans back and stables himself on the floor. His voice is powerful against you, the sound of it alone making you shake in anticipation, “I’m gonna fill you up with my cum, and then you can cum all over me. Understand?”

He doesn’t even let you answer before starting a wicked rhythm. He claps against you with no mercy, his grip on your hips holding you steady on his lap. It’s delicious, the way he bounces you up and down on his cock and thrusts up into you at the same time. Jongho growls as your cream and Yeosang’s cum makes a mess of the both of you. Yeosang watches your tits bounce. The stench of sex fills the room and depravity fills his senses.

The power of Jongho’s thrusts almost has you toppling over. He’s ravenous with the way he fucks you, thick cock ramming into you over and over from below. Jongho fucking loves the feeling of having you broken atop him, having you at your most vulnerable and sensitive right under his fingertips. He squeezes your hips, groaning when you squeeze back.

His head drops to the couch, letting you drop and feel every inch and vein of his cock. The stretch of him is painfully delicious. Yeosang takes this moment of pause to snake a hand to your clit, causing you to jolt when he begins rubbing circles.

“Y-yeosang…” you plead as you feel a tsunami of pleasure coming closer and closer to falling atop you.

He kisses along your neck, the ticklish sensation sending you into overdrive. Along with Jongho’s cock filling you and taking over your very being, you feel like you’re fighting a losing battle. You’re determined to follow Jongho’s rules, though.

Yeosang chuckles into your neck, “Just let her cum, Jongho,”

“Yeah, baby? Do you need to cum?” He asks flatly, slamming you down harshly onto his cock again.

“P-please, I need to cum so b-bad…”

You feel like you’re about to burst and you’re sure Jongho can feel it too. He doesn’t care, laughing as you continue to writhe and moan against Yeosang’s fingers, “I told you I’m gonna fill this pussy with my cum first, okay? Stop being so fucking cock-dumb already,”

He leans back further into the couch, bringing your back to his chest as he gathers his last bit of force to fuck up into you. He hangs off the edge of the couch slightly, but that’s not even a thought in his head as he continues to ram himself into you unforgivingly. Yeosang continues to tease and probe your bud, an evil smile forming on his face the longer he watches you unravel atop Jongho’s rabid hips.

Jongho hisses when he feels you tighten. Your hole is too fucking good, draining him for all he has. He gives one last powerful thrust before releasing his load inside of you, his balls tightening up against you as he jolts and spasms underneath you. His cock twitches inside of you and with the feeling of him finally filling you and Yeosang’s relentless fingers, you come undone. The pleasure that’s been building this entire time finally releases like a broken dam. It washes over you, unabated even after all this time. You feel every single one of your nerves explode inside you, your body seizing up against Jongho’s as your pussy tightens impossibly more to take all Jongho has to give.

Yeosang sighs against you, “Oh, angel, you take us so well,”

Just knowing that you have Yeosang’s and Jongho’s cum flowing inside you has your entire body tingling. It sends you into an even higher tier of gratification, your orgasm prolonging every time Jongho spurts another shot of cum into you.

Jongho’s voice is strained as he speaks, “Fuck, look what a fucking dirty cum-slut you are.”

It’s hard to get off of cloud nine once you’ve reached it. You can distantly hear their soft voices in the back of your head, vastly different from their tones before. You feel the leather couch underneath your back, their cum dripping out of you, and Yeosang’s hand gently running through your hair.

He tries to lure you fully awake, but that doesn’t happen until Jongho brings a warm towel to clean you. Your teary eyes squint under the light and you’re surprised at how weak you feel. Your body feels like jelly as Jongho hands Yeosang a towel to clean up the sweat on your upper body.

You’re not entirely sure what’s happening, but a blur of emotions is still flowing through you, “Hey…you don’t have to…” you sleepily let out.

They don’t say anything in return so neither do you. Jongho slips your panties back on, Yeosang pulling you softly upwards to put your shirt back on. You feel surprisingly cared for after getting your brains fucked out. You hadn’t expected it from two guys who probably do this every night.

They sit with you as you gather your bearings. Jongho traces patterns onto your legs, mindlessly staring at you. It sends a different kind of heat to your body. The kind that has you shrinking into yourself, blushing and hiding your face in your hands. You pretend it’s from sleepiness, but Jongho knows better. Yeosang hums beside your head, still running his hands through your hair delicately.

You feel more alive after a while, finally gathering the energy to sit up, “This doesn’t mean I’m your groupie now, by the way,”

“You would’ve been my favorite,” Jongho grins.

Yeosang pouts, “I don’t think Hongjoong would approve,” You both raise a brow at him, “What? He has the power to kick me out of the band, I have to be careful.”

Jongho laughs aloud as you giggle alongside him. You sort of feel at home with them, and not just because they rearranged your guts. They touch you softly, in ways that say they know everything about you. You’d rather not fall into that hole. Right now, you lay content in the moment in between them in this dingy room with their hands on you.

[billskeis]

HEAR ME OUT…SURFER TOM X FEM. (Maybe they can do it on the beach…)

holy shit im hot n bothered

˖ ࣪ ⟢ beach boy tom

tom kaultiz who you met on summer vacation while out with your family that you were totally forced to go on. you’re not a beach person, but given the fact that they begged (and bribed) for you to come at least once in your lifetime, well, didn’t sound too bad at all. the salt air and cool breeze hit you and honestly, summer vacation didn’t look too shabby after all!

you sat on your beach towel under the umbrella as you watched your younger siblings play fight in the water, parents out to grab some more snacks from the local stand as you watched the bags. quickly, your eyes averted and begun ogling at the figure in the waves.

matt locs flow through the air as the water brushes past his body as if he were apart of it. surfing huh, it wasn’t your thing until today seeing those abs.

those washboard abs, you swear to god you can grate cheese on those fucking things.

they weren’t the most defined, but they were most definitely there. what also was there was the intense eye contact held between the two of you despite there being such a difference. and within a blink, the figure disappeared within the waves. as a couple seconds pass and you no longer see him in your peripherals, you pout, but quickly shrugged it off and decide to just move on.

time passes slowly as your parents finally return back with ice cream, yay! giving you a popsicle, you begin eating at the dessert, walking alongside the shoreline. your parents mentioned something about ‘getting with the locals’ pft, like that’s important for a summer vacation.

“hey,”

and you turn to face the figure calling out to you. he holds his surfboard under his arm as the latter rubs awkwardly at his neck. up close, you noticed his lip ring, amber eyes and the faint beauty mark on his left cheek. wow, he’s even hotter up close.

“oh. hi,”

he laughs at your awkwardness, as you stood there like a deer in headlights. to be completely honest, the eye contact shared wasn’t that big a deal to you, until seeing him a second time, even closer, now it was a big deal. “i noticed you earlier, thought you were cute.”

“you could see how cute i was from that far??”

“well, i mean—i could definitely tell you were cute. now i’m glad i got the chance to see you up close.. needless to say i’m not disappointed.” his cheeks were a little pink, cute.

“how, flattering.. y/n,”

“tom, you from here?”

and there you go on your needless babbling about how your only here for summer vacation. you weren’t even supposed to spend your summer in california. but here you are, hot summer california as you grind your cunt onto the abdomen of a man you just met. it didn’t take long for the two of you to take note of what one another wanted, tom guiding your hips as your clit ruts against his abs, biting your lips as pleasure bubbles in your core.

“you’re soaking me, princess.”

“oh please, d-don’t act like you’re not enjoying the view,”

“can’t say i am, but a pretty girl like you rubbing her sweet little cunt on these gorgeous abs? i’m fucking diggin’ it..”

a towel under the two of you as he leans on his surfboard that’s propped up against the tree. while ‘getting to know’ each other, tom lead you to a private area of the beach. curious, you wonder how and where he got the access to be in such a secluded area (but you didn’t need to know that this is the famous guitarist of a young and new band called tokio hotel).

nipping at your skin, tom kneads your ass behind his hands as he watches you fuck yourself on his pelvis, smearing your juices all over him. he finds you absolutely insatiable, tucking your hair behind your ears, tilting your chin down so he can place a kiss on your lips, tongue slipping in as you mangle with one another, tasting like fresh fruit.

breaking the kiss, he thumbs at your bottom lip, smirking, “think ya could help me out?” freeing his hard on from his trunks.

“holy shit you’re huge,” your eyes widen at not only the length but the girth, pinkish tip that twitches with anticipation, pre threatening to lean from it’s mushroom top, “i know, :).” you can’t help but scoff as he laughs jokingly.

now hovering your cunt over his cock, you lower your hips down as he slips in with ease. tom has to choke back a groan as his fingers dig into your hips. he could honestly cum right then and there. taking in every inch vein, your plush walls hug against his length, slowly but surely remembering the shape of his dick as you whine from the pleasure, “t-tom..”

“s’okay i got you baby, need help?”

with an eager nod from you, he plants a kiss to your cheek as he lifts your ass up, dragging your cunt allllll the way to the tip of his cock, harshly slamming your hips back down onto his lap. with a loud ‘thwop!’ he hits dead on into your cervix, leaving you to see stars as your legs tremble, cunt tightening against him, “mmmphf~!”

“f-fuckkkkk.. you like that don’cha?”

he forces you to ride him as he lifts you up and down his length, sliding your body to a rhythm he likes, but one that also you enjoy, clit occasionally hitting his pelvic bone.

“tommmm~ i—i might—”

a low grunt escapes tom’s lips as he observes your body, stomach beginning to clench as you also begin to mindlessly ride tom without his assistance. it’s wet and sticky between the two of you, nothing but a little swimming could clean off!

“that’s it.. ride me baby.. you feel amazing, ‘m cumming soon, shit.. don’want it to end..” tom now toying at your clit, helping you reach your climax. he mutters words under his breath, not being able to hear him over how your cunt flutters against his shaft, legs shaking as the knot in your stomach finally snapping, and all that you could see now is white.

“fuckfuckfuck..!” falling from tom’s lips as the way your pussy clenches against him wrings his cum out dry, also reaching his orgasm. fucking his hips in deeper as he cums, his tip assaulting your cervix threatening to put a baby in you, thank god for birth control amiright? don’t know when you’ll need it if your on vacation with your family.. amiright?

as you both ride out your highs, deep breaths shared between each other. “you okay?” he asks, fixing the straps of your bikini to sit properly on your shoulder once more. sweat glistening off his body as you watch his chest rise up and down.

staring a little harder, you notice the sun freckles that decorate his face. your eyes quickly catch onto his pink soft lips, you catch his lip piercing in a kiss, deepening it as you wrap your arms around his neck, bodies sharing even more heat through the warm summer weather.

“so, will i ever see you again?”

“don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily princess, i better see you at the beach everyday that you’re here.“

as you playfully punch at his arm, you lay your head in the crook of his neck, raising your head up to kiss his face, smooching him again, you thank tom for being able to make your summer vacation worthwhile.

2008 tom kaulitz gives summer fling type shit and then you’ll never see him again except he’s totally obsessed with you and is already booking a ticket to your home town to live w u permanently :33

guys am i eating rn (in my flop arc)

[theolivetree123]

Silas's Pop Music Club Card!

"The other members don't understand how to be in a real band. I swear, I'll whip them into shape in no time."

GROOVY: [LOCKED]

VOICE LINES

����: I still can't cope with the fact that Cater made me wear this ridiculous outfit. But... I guess the color choices were acceptable.

🧡: I was supposed to just be another guitarist, but Kalim insisted I show Cater and Lilia my singing skills. Now, I'm the lead singer as well as a guitarist. My three other members make me sing their horrible song choices.

🧡: I already have experience being in a band, so I can confidently say that the others are total disasters. Sure, they have spirit, but they have zero professionalism.

🧡: Ugh, Cater needs to work on his vocals. He keeps coming in before me.

🧡: I honestly thought that Constance and Victor would be joining me in the club, but it turns out they left me for dead with these.... extroverts.

🧡: We're nowhere near a good band. If the other guys would take our meet-ups more seriously, maybe then we might be scouted out for bigger gigs.

🧡: I have to admit, Kalim is quite talented at the drums. Though, I guess that's to be expected by such a perfect guy like him.

🧡: Ugh, this food Lilia made is awful. *sigh* I'll have to ask Elias to make me some snacks for next rehearsal.

🧡: I'm no Constance, but I'd say I'm good at singing. I used to sing all the time with Constance when she would practice with her mother so she'd feel less nervous about singing in front of an audience. I guess I also learned some things from her singing lessons.

DUO MAGIC

Silas: You missed a queue again, Lilia.

Lilia: Oh, stop being such a buzzkill, Silas. I was.... freestyling!

[belokhvostikova]

𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭, 𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐁𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐲

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 | Perhaps the karma gods of the world were just as perverted as Hawkins’ residential Freak, Eddie Munson, himself, as the perfect opportunity to lay his hands on you arose when you go searching for helpless students to tutor.

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 | Swearing, brief mentions of religion, naivety, feelings of embarrassment, perversion, and explicit sexual content: fondling, minimal spanking, mentions of virginity, mentions of female masturbation, male masturbation, tiny praise kink, stuffed animal humping, clit rubbing, handjob, oral (both receiving), corruption kink, cum eating and dubcon (just precautionary).

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞 | I tried to be gross! Sorry it took so long. It's quite hard writing about a plotline that doesn't pertain to Eddie being mad at us for taking his picture and putting it in the yearbook (my series, you should read it). I'm trying to get into the groove of writing, so I apologize in advance if this is literal butt cheeks, I tried. Also, you will be getting an unwarranted history lesson.

𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬, 𝐃𝐨 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭.

“…Man, I told Jeff that my mom would get pissed off if he left his beer cans in the garage, and he was all like, “Nah, dude, I promise I’ll pick ‘em up,” and he didn’t! Of course, he didn’t…”

In retrospect, tuning out the complaints of Gareth Emerson may not have been the smartest moves, as Corroded Coffin had just lost their only space to freely practice. You know, where they wouldn’t get dirty looks and threats of the police for public disturbance. And surely, as lead guitarist and singer of such an aspiring band, Eddie Munson would have been fully engrossed at the sudden mention of the deterrence into their path to wealth, fame, and glory… right? No. Because this is Eddie Munson we’re talking about here. And behind that domineering rockstar facade of leather jackets, clinking chains, gaudy jewelry, and a tight- tight pair of denim pants, yes, behind those pair of pants was a pulsating cock that was desperate to grow twice its softened size just two minutes and twenty-three seconds before he had to face Mrs. Wither’s biology class, all because Eddie Munson saw you.

Why- why on God’s green Earth would he ever choose to listen to the cracking voice of Gareth Emerson, when you were literally standing right across the hall, not even four yards away? The skirt. The fucking teeny tiny, baby pink, short skirt you decided to wear, the one Eddie was sure that if you bent forward even just a little bit, he would be flashed with the sexy crease of your fat ass cheeks meeting your doughy thighs, and he was desperate to be smothered by it. 

“…So yeah, we can’t practice at my house anymore.” Gareth lamented. That’s when he noticed the oh so obvious, blatantly clear, totally discernable trance of his friend, realizing his entire tangent just deliquesced into thin air with no acknowledgement whatsoever. Gareth slammed his locker shut. “You weren’t even listening to me!”

Eddie’s eyes finally shot away at the bleated tone of Gareth’s rightful attitude. “‘Scuse me? I totally was listening.” He hissed back, evidently not amused with the embarrassing fact that he was caught red-handed. 

“No, you weren’t.” Gareth groused, looking back to follow the ghost trail that once was Eddie’s distracted eye line, which is when he landed on you. “You were just checking out that girl.”

“That girl has a name, y’know?” Eddie retorted.

“That girl isn’t going to help us find a place to practice!” Gareth retaliated. “Stop looking for chicks to score, I’m serious.”

“Hey,” Eddie perked, as he stood straight, countering his friend, “y’know, she’s actually really smart and, like, super fucking funny-”

His friend could only incredulously scoff. “Oh, right, because you’ve totally had a conversation with her.”

“I-I’ve… stood next to her a-and have heard her talk to her friends.” Definitely not the riposte Eddie hoped to shoot out. The stuttering sure as hell didn’t help.

“Oh, so you’re a stalker.” Gareth nonchalantly derided, leaving Eddie to deadpan him. “Look, whatever, man, you can perv on girls all you want, but we have bigger issues at hand, dude. Where the hell are we supposed to practice?” Eddie’s chest ended up being victimized by the harsh poke of Gareth’s stern finger. And if he wasn’t so annoyed with his friend, he would have winced, because that actually kinda hurt a little. But just a little. Eddie’s ego wasn’t about to take a hit today. 

He rolled his eyes with a sigh. “Relax, alright? We’ll work our way around it.”

Truthfully, Eddie had no actual plans of working their way around it, in fact, it was quite a large issue he should have prioritized, but that could wait. Should it? No. But it would. Yes. Surely, staring at you was more of a fun game. He’d done that for the past two years he’d known of you, and he never got tired of it, I mean, how could he? One day—he always chalked up—he would get the balls to actually speak to you. You were always so nice, so sweet, skirting around the halls of Hawkins High that Eddie felt were too unworthy for your leisure, smiling and waving at any and everyone. Last Tuesday, the day you met his perverted eyes—oblivious to his hungry stares—and kindly threw him a beguiling smile as if it wasn’t the most dangerous weapon on Earth, was the day Eddie Munson skipped fourth period and jerked his aching cock in the dingy stall of the boys’ bathroom, before speeding home to fold his pillow in half and slide himself into the makeshift pussy just to fuck it with screwed shut eyes to invision the perfect image of you laying on your back with bouncing tits.

But unfortunately, that was just a dream Eddie Munson would have to deduce himself into every night, because the reality of you ever actually speaking to him was tragically low. Mostly because Eddie was scared he’d stutter and fuck up in front of you. It was embarrassingly shameful when it occurred in the comfort of his own bedroom, as he acted out what he would say to you in the mirror. You literally weren’t even there and he still tripped over his words!

But maybe the karma gods were finally aligning with his life, because he watched you happily place a “Need a Tutor?” sign on the bulletin board of the main hall, with little slips of your phone number ready to tear off and grab for anyone needing some “intimate one-on-one session time.” And, my god, was Eddie Munson anguished for that, so when the pink thumbtack stabbed your preciously designed poster into the cluttered corkboard, and you walked away with a innocent smile that was ready to help anyone in need, Eddie could hear an angel receiving its wings in the distance, as a harp played, and a choir harmonized heavenly, because his mind was stirring with the endless possibilities of raunchy and crude wet dreams. And Eddie was finally receiving a chance to dive into some pussy galore. Gross. 

“Oh, yeah, and how exactly do you plan on doing that? My drum kit can’t fit in your trailer, Grant’s grandma nearly had a heart attack the last time we practiced at his place, and Jeff’s mom still thinks it’s the “devil's music,” so what exactly is your plan here, hotshot?” Gareth scoffed.

“My plan?” Eddie chimed with a menacing smirk. “Oh, well I plan on getting tutored by my future wife.” He slyly leered, as he sauntered his away to your advertisement, Gareth following behind feeling beyond the definitions of vexation. 

“You’re actually insane, y’know that?” Gareth exhaled, as he watched Eddie eagerly tear off a slip and examine it with a prodding tongue through his lips. “This says for anyone needing a tutor in history.” Gareth pointed out. 

Eddie shrugged, as your number slipped into the back pocket of his jeans. “So?”

“You’re not even taking history!” Gareth stressed, as the bell rang to commence class. “What are you gonna do when you show up completely clueless?”

“Dude, she’s looking for idiots to tutor,” Eddie patted him on the shoulder, “she’s expecting cluelessness. And I am the perfect guy. Kay?” He triumphantly smiled. “Stop stressing, go to class. And don’t worry, I’ll send you an invitation to our wedding. Thinkin’ of making it BDSM theme.”

Gareth grimaced. 

Eddie Munson may not have caught onto the obvious insult he just hurled to himself, but that didn’t matter. Not when he had a call to make after school.

-

The ticking minutes of the afternoon couldn’t have passed by any slower, as Eddie managed to work up every excuse in the book to get his uncle, Wayne, to leave early for work: grab some lunch at Benny’s before hand, stop for some coffee at the local cafe, show up an hour early to impress the bosses—though, the bosses didn’t pay Wayne enough for him to feel the need to turn up before his scheduled shift—and soon the minutes turned into hours, and the sun would be setting soon. Eddie could feel you slipping through his grasp, as someone who probably actually needed a tutor was bound to call you before he could- or worse, some sick perv with the same bright idea as him would call you. Though Eddie Munson was adamant on the fact that none of the other guys who creeped on you could take care of you like he could.

Sure, the only experience he ever had was when the older bartender with bouncy hair offered to show the lead singer of Corroded Coffin a “special thank you,” which promptly led him to losing his virginity in the loathsome bathroom of the Hideout, which also led to a frantic eighteen-year-old Eddie anxiously running to the local health clinic for STDs testing when it dawned on him that he just had unprotected sex with a stranger during the dangerous minutes of post-nut clarity. But, Eddie Munson was still a hormonal teenager, and once the negative results cleared him from the nerve-wracking chlamydia or gonorrhea scare, he laid back and relished on the memory of having sex and, well, by the sounds of it—if his memory serves him right—she seemed to enjoy it, too. Granted, Eddie never engaged in any more of her efforts to try again because- well, he was left scarred, but all that is beyond the point. The point is Eddie Munson wanted to be the one to love on you, dote on you, make you feel so fucking good that you were programmatically addicted to him- to his cock. 

Oh, fuck, he’s hard already. 

But finally, as the clock struck six o’clock, his uncle waved him goodbye, and Eddie had ran through the numerous piles of clothes in the trailer—ones he promised to fold—and slammed into the wall phone to begin his endeavors. The crumpled slip of your phone number had been retrieved from his back pocket, and he skimmed the digits, letting his fingers dial as he read each number. It was nowhere near remotely possible, but Eddie Munson had even managed to find your phone number to be so sexy. Mm, so even and divisible. God, he was sick. But nonetheless, the phone rang and rang, and he was muttering the “c’mon, pick up, pick up” mantra to lead him one step closer to you. Communicating through a phone would surely ease his worries about potentially screwing up. He just had to take a deep breath and let the conversation flow itself. But, shit, it was ringing for far too long. You were probably already knees deep into some boring textbook with a helpless classmate, or getting flirted by Nathan Cavanugh, who Eddie once saw check you out; or you were probably cuddling up with Bryce Walters, who would always lean against your locker to sweet talk you during school; or, fuck, you could have already been getting handsy with Harrison Moran, who would always come up and hug you after a footba-

“Hello?” Oh, shit.

“Oh- I mean, uh, hi.” This wasn’t going to work. He was already slipping up. Eddie had never internally cringed so hard, his hand pragmatically slapped his forehead in disbelief, but his mouth just kept moving. “It’s, um, me.” Me?! How the fuck would you know who me is?!

“Oh, my god, hi, Eddie!” You perked with giddiness. What the fuck?

He stammered with confusion, “Wait… how’d you know it was me- like, me, Eddie?” 

“Duh, your voice, silly.” You giggled, as Eddie huffed a breathy chuckle, and leaned against the wall with a curling lip. Maybe this could work. 

“Oh, yeah? You recognize my voice, sweetie?” His lit into a teasing, sultry crisp that had you flustered on the other line. 

“Well, yeah. I mean, you’re always making quite the scene during lunch.” You delicately laughed into the receiver. “I guess it just kinda got stuck in my head, like, you know, when you hear a catchy song?”

Eddie sucked in a breath, as his hand played with the hem of his shirt to tease his sensitive naval with soft touches, and you could thoroughly hear the smirk of his grin oozing through his words. “Oh, really?” He teased rhetorically. “Yeah, no, I understand. I can happily say the same for you, sweetheart. Got such a pretty voice.”

“Oh,” you were clearly rattled, as his compliment hit you, “th-thank you, Eddie. You’re so nice.”

“Aw, well, actually, sweetheart, it’s you who’s so nice. Offering others your help with tutoring, just so sweet, aren’t ya, huh? It’s actually why I’m calling.” He smiled. “You wanna… help me out, princess?”

“Yes, I’d love to!” Your bubbly voice made it certain that you were ready to genuinely help him with his studies, and provide him with the needed lessons. It could almost make Eddie feel guilty. Almost. But his dick was thumping with eagerness, and he was containing all restraints to keep from pressing his bulge against the paneling of the wall to your sickly sweet voice, and thrusting his hips. That would be a new low. Even for him. “I’ve been waiting forever for someone to call, Eds, you don’t even understand. I was beginning to think nobody needed a tutor.” 

“Oh, no, sweet girl, I can assure you I desperately need a helping hand.” He sighed, as the rings on his finger began dancing around the protrusion of his pants, applying just a small amount of pressure. “And I’d fucking love yours.” Your innocent mind absolutely swooned at the opportunity to aid his learning, completely unbeknownst to Eddie’s perverted meaning.

“That’s great, I’d love to help you, Eddie.” You gushed, and Eddie’s teeth had to bite down onto his lip to uphold the self-control of being so desperate he was debating dry humping the wall. “Are you able to come over tonight?

“Oh, yeah, baby, I’ll definitely be coming tonight.” As soon as the call would end, Eddie Munson would drop to his knees and repent all the wrongdoings of his life, if it meant this actually working out for him. It’s doesn’t necessarily fall under the codes of Catholicism to exactly pray in front of the random “Bless this house, O Lord we pray, Make it safe by night and day” calendar with the hopes of finally having sex with his high school crush, but Eddie wasn’t exactly the type to carry around his own crucifix for an impromptu prayer, and he was truly just really fucking horny for you. And he was also smart enough to know his luck. If his life taught him anything, you would actually say that plans came up and you would be too busy to tutor him, and just like that, his opportunity would have disintegrated into dust. Now, while the possibility of that occurring was plausible, it genuinely should not have garnered him the idea to suddenly believe in divine interference and pray to a calendar that he’d get laid, but Eddie Munson did it anyway. Because you had him that fucking forlorn.  

“How does seven-thirty sound? You can come over then, does that work for you?” You were already planning the layout for your study session, when all Eddie could think about was caressing your figure.

“Absolutely.” He affirmed with a tight breath when his teeth bloodied his lip.

“Great, I’ll see you then, Eddie- oh, wait, before you go, do you like cookies? I can make us some as a snack.” God, you really were so fucking sweet.

“Shit,” Eddie mumbled under his breath, “cookies? Yeah, I like cookies, sweetheart. Can’t fucking wait to taste them.”

“Okay, good, I’ll gladly make you some!” You cheered with excitement. “I’ll see you soon!”

Attending high school for six years would surely be more than enough time to, I don’t know, memorize at least one thing about the many lessons Eddie had to endure—science, math, hell, even construction—but nothing cemented into his mind more clearly than the address you’d given him- the address he’d fuck you at… hopefully. God, he could already picture it so vividly. Your pink room of frills and silk. The room where you study. Where you sleep. Where you change. Where you lick your fingers and snake your hand under the lace of your panties to rub your pussy to the thought of being fucked- 

Oh, how the hell was he ever going to survive being in your house?

-

Eddie Munson had stared about the likes of your neighborhood for a good five minutes, finding the audacity to suddenly play undercover detective as a means of “scoping out the scene” to ensure the sanctity of his sexual endeavors. Perhaps the karma gods were desperate to get this twenty-year-old man laid—they had to be tired of the countless prayers for pussy that flooded their heavenly inbox—as Mrs. Winthrop, the forty-something-year-old lady of fancy tracksuits and shiny pearls who loved to patrol the regulations of the HOA, was, fortunately, accompanying her newlywed seventy-something-year-old husband at the City Hall’s Annual Fundraiser Banquet. Had she decided to not meddle into the world of small town aristocrats to weasel her way into her elderly husband’s will, she would have surely caught wind of Eddie Munson’s suspicious activity, and had your house flooded with flashing reds and blues as he sat in the backseat of a police car; hands in cuffs and boner in boxers. 

But Mrs. Winthrop hadn’t been home. And Eddie had deliberated the risk of a possible wandering neighbor catching a glimpse of his dubious acts, and taken it, because in doing so, he was met with the glory of an empty driveway to your home. Where a car—like the silver sedan he learned your mother drove to drop you off to school or the black truck he learned your father drove to pick you up from school—was typically parked had been abandoned to an emptiness, leaving the cemented path to your garage exposed. And peering just a little to the left, he would come face-to-face with the familiar fateful sentiment of that of an empty driveway: an empty curb.

Long gone were the risks of parental interference.

Eddie Munson was fucking you tonight. 

Your doorbell had diffused into quietness. Hidden behind the denim pockets of his jacket, his fists balled tightly, as his mind ran through the notions of how he would manifest this to occur. Worst case scenario, you’d reject his advances… possibly realize his agenda… might call him a freak… definitely a perv… probably slap him in the face, he would deserve it… you could tell the whole school… it would surely spread across town… then the torches and pitchforks would come out- yeah, okay, he should really stop overthinking right about now. But then there were the other thoughts. The thoughts- the debauched thoughts that filled his head of just you and your body completely at his mercy. Best case scenario, you’d fall into his arms… he’d shove his hot tongue down your throat- ooh, better yet, his cock… he’d certainly grope the fattiness of your ass… might tug on your nipples with his teeth… spit on your clit… fuck, then undoubtedly plunge his cock into your cunt until it was drowning in his sticky cum. There was only so much space behind the seam of his zipper before his growing dick would burst through.

The ten seconds of impending footsteps held no merit of preparation for Eddie Munson to secure the steady breath of cool, calm, and collected like he wanted to. He was supposed to up his bravado, put on that bad boy demeanor he knew to flaunt while strutting the streets of Hakwins, Indiana to ensure his character was never physically targeted by the clear disdain the town held for him. And it worked. Never once had it failed to be intimidating. In fact, that very intimidation that was going to be his reliable source of timidly scaring you tino pulling up the soft cotton of your top to flash him the bouncing volume of your boobs for him to pervertedly grab. If it had to get that far. 

But that was all too easy. 

And Eddie Munson hadn’t accounted for the fact that his breath would hitch at mere sight of you beaconing him into your humble home with a peachy “Hi, Eddie” and that sinful skirt that seemed to love your body just as much as he did from the way it clung to your dips and curves. 

“H-Hi, sweetness.” His lips hungry rolled against themselves, as his eyes raked your silhouette upon entering the foyer of your house. “I, uh, I didn’t see anyone in the driveway. C-Can I assume we’re, um, alone?” Eddie shyly smiled.

You were there to kindly answer. “Oh, yeah! My parents drove out of town to attend a familiar friend’s wedding.” See, this is where an attempt at a nice conversation could have occurred, had you not daintily secured your hands together behind your back with pristine posture. With your puffed chest, Eddie’s eyes had absentmindedly diverted to the now pebbling outline of your nipples that seemingly hardened from the draft Eddie had brought in. Heaven truly was a place on Earth- or whatever the hell that Belinda chick sang about. “I hope that’s alright.” You giggled.

“Huh…?”

“I mean, I’m definitely nowhere near as good a cook as my mom, but I made those cookies for you as a treat, and I hope you’ll like them.” You bit your lip. “But, um, if you’re still hungry, we can totally order something for dinner.”

Eddie didn’t know what was louder, the beating in his heart or his cock. Either way, it was blatantly obvious the effect you had on him, and his body was desperately lurching for yours. “Oh, yeah, no, uh, no worries. I-I, um- sorry, I’m just a bit… nervous.” He shied away with a teasing grin.

What more could be expected? Out of the kindness of your heart, your face contorted with concern. “Oh, please don’t be nervous!” You held a soft grip to his bicep, pulling him close. Hook. “I know it can be a little scary being tutored, but I promise you’re totally in control here.” And reel. “We’ll go at your pace. I’m here to help you, remember?” You’d be doting on him the whole night. 

If intimidation wasn’t going to get him to see your pussy tonight, maybe the kicked puppy act will.

A sickening smirk consumed his face, and his hand flew over his heart. “Aren’t you just the sweetest? Got the prettiest heart and face in this town, huh?”

Oh, and how that compliment had you flustering in his grace, looking away with a breaking smile of demure. Being tutored may not have been the most conventional way of getting laid, but the favor was working on his side, and Eddie was loving his ingenious idea of stealing your advertising slip. “I- well, um, thank you, Eddie.” You smiled, attempting to meet his eyes again. “You know, you’re really nice, too. I knew I shouldn’t have listened to Donna.”

“Donna?” That crank with a stick up her ass, who seemingly tried to control every little thing you did? That Donna?!

Now, say all you want about the morality of following around someone you love, but don’t misconstrued things here, Eddie Munson was not a stalker. Nope. Nuh-uh. Sure, he liked to linger around you, who wouldn’t? And, while, yes, oftentimes- no, all the times, you didn’t know of his presence, but still, it wasn’t stalking. He was just learning things about you. Yeah, learning things. Learning the make and model of your parents’ vehicles. Learning your class schedule in hopes of catching glimpses of you in the hallways. Learning about your favorite subjects and what you hated. Learning the acts that guys did that made your face scrunch up with disgust. And yes, learning about Donna fucking McIntyre, who did seem to catch on to his stalking presence- no, linger presence (totally not a stalker).

In the many instances Eddie stood close enough to eavesdrop on your conversations, he’d grown quite a distaste for Donna McIntyre. Actually, it’d do no justice to deduce his hatred as “distaste.” Eddie Munson fucking hated Donna McIntyre. Listening to her speak was like shoving a knife through his eardrum. He’d only endure it if it meant hearing your honey voice and learning more about you. This particular disdain for your close friend hadn’t appeared from thin air, no, Eddie Munson had complete reasons to hate the ginger; Donna McIntyre had sensibility. Where your naivety had you blissfully unaware of Eddie’s hungry stare, Donna McIntyre had caught onto every one of his perversions. Call it bias, he didn’t care, he hated her. In hindsight, your two year friendship with her had truly saved you from some compromising situations in which creepy men bestowed themselves upon you. Donna McIntyre was there to save you. Leave no girl behind. And you loved her for it. 

Eddie Munson, on the other hand, despised her for it.

A daily routine had manifested itself between the two rivals. One where Eddie would lovingly stare at your perched breasts spewing from your low-cut top, only to accidentally make eye contact with Donna during his spare seconds of eyeing you, being met with one of the most—rightfully—disgusted stares from her. He was left scoffing every time she grappled onto your elbow and pulled you away wherever you stepped within his vicinity. 

“Yeah.” You sorely pouted. “See, she’s, like, my best friend ever, but she always says the nastiest things about you.”

“Like what?” He questioned with squinted eyes. 

“Well, I don’t want to say the mean names she calls you, but she always mentions how I need to stay away from you; something about you being bad news.” You huffed. “I mean, literally before you came here, I called her all excited that I was finally tutoring someone tonight, because it looks really good on college applications, you know? But when I told her it was you, she completely lost it, saying you were just taking advantage of me.” Fucking divine interference?!

Eddie Munson had to give it to her. She may have been a pain in the ass, but Donna McIntyre was smart.

“Uh, well, y’know, princess, some people are just downright rude.” He dejectedly suspired. “People have been pickin’ on me since I was a child, y’know? Just because I’m different.” Maybe the bruised kid was taking it a little too far, but a special place in hell was already being dedicated to Eddie Munson, with a fiery plaque being engraved with the devil’s sharp talon, so did he care? No. Not when his sob story had you jumping to console him with a sympathizing hug, one where your tits squished against his chest, and he reveled in the feeling of your poking nipples brushing against his body. 

A more than content hum groaned out of Eddie’s mouth, as he wrapped you close, and inhaled a waft of your perfect smell. “I’m so sorry, Eds.” Your heart of gold oozed out with all sadness for him.

“It’s okay, baby-”

“No, it’s not.” You pulled back to pout at him. “People shouldn’t treat you like that. It’s mean. People shouldn’t be mean to you.” Eddie cooed, copying your protruding lips, and sighed happily at your word of action. “You have me as a friend now! And I promise that I’ll never be mean to you. I just want to be nice to you. All the time, be nice to you.”

There’s no way you couldn’t feel his boner pressing into your tummy. “Aw, precious, I’d really like that. You’ll be nice to me? Do anything for me? Make me feel good?”

The quickness to your fervent nod had a sickening grin formulating on Eddie’s expression. “Yes, of course! Always, that’s what friends do.” You smiled. In a flash, you acted on impulse and pressed your lips to his cheek, where your gloss had marked his skin and burned his body. Witnessing you shyly smile at him afterwards had his eyes nearly rolling to the back of his head. “I just wanna help you out.” You whispered.

“You can definitely help me, princess.” He spoke in hushed tones. “Y’know how you can help me?” His face gravitated to yours, target of interest aiming for your lips.

And you looked at him with those innocent, round eyes. “Tutoring you!” You beamed, like you just answered the million dollar question on a game show- well, not Eddie’s preferred game show.

“Oh,” he cleared his throat with a forced laugh to keep you smiling, “yes, of course, sweetheart, tutoring me. That’s the only reason I came here, anyway.” He internally perished. 

You squealed in excitement, jumping from the giddiness of being helpful. “Yay!” You beamed, forcing Eddie to follow suit, his faux enthusiasm compelling him to swallow thickly in order to constrain the blood back to his brain if he was going to sit through a tutoring lesson before seeing your ass in whatever baby pink thong he pictured you wearing. You laced your hand within his—being his only saving grace for enduring schoolwork after hours—and tugged him into the coziness of your living room. “So, are you taking American History or World History?”

“Uh…” Two years ago, Wayne Munson urged his nephew to exercise his newfound 26th Amendment Right to vote at the ripe age of eighteen for the 1984 Presidential Election. Granted, not so much newfound, given that Eddie was still falling off of monkey bars when protests about the monstrosity of what was going on Vietnam managed to lower the voting age; but nonetheless, Eddie had gotten severely tired of being bombarded by Reagan signs that infested every neighborhood street he drove past, enabling him to proudly wear Hawkins’ very own rendition of the ‘I Voted’ sticker. Though, the excitement was short lived, when the Munsons gruffed in disappointment watching Ronald Reagan win his reelection and haunt their lives for another four years to come. Eddie Munson didn’t know what the hell was going on with the world fifty years ago, but the CBS Morning News was raving about the wave of the conservative movement, talks of Gorbachev meeting Reagan was happening, something called the internet was kinda freaking him out, and Eddie Munson voted, so how’s that for American history for you? 

“American- yeah, yeah, American History.” 

“Perfect!” He followed your movements, and joined you on the couch, textbooks and cookies laid out in uniform perfection against the wood of your coffee table. Just for him. “With Mr. Conklin? Or Mendez?”

“Mendez.” At least, he did when he was still a junior and vandalizing the back desk with engravings of immature pornographic sketches. 

“Oh! Donna’s also in that class.” Eye fucking roll. “She told me about that killer quiz you guys had today. Said something about how none of the questions were on the study guide that Mr. Mendez gave to y’all.”

Eddie drawed out an exasperated sigh. “Yeah, yeah.” He lied right through his teeth. “I-It’s why I came to you, sweetheart! I completely flunked that quiz, and- well, then, you- you were just like this angel sent from heaven, offering your help.” He grinned watching you heat up from his heavy stare. “Just meant to be, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Your nerves flustered, as your teeth bit into your lip. “I’m happy to help you, Eds. Anytime you need.” You could feel his breath fanning across your cheeks. “Um, did you, uh, bring your books?” Actually getting a good look at him, Eddie hadn’t brought anything. At all. “Or, um, at least… some notes?”

A whistle of slow realization escaped Eddie’s mouth. “Uh… oh, y’know what happened? See, I was just spiraling from the quiz, a-and then I got so nervous for our tutoring lesson that, y’know, it just completely slipped my mind. I’m sorry, princess.”

“Oh, well, that’s okay.” A sweet reassurance came from your part. “We can just share my book.” You patted the distant space of cushion between you two, one which Eddie gladly took up.

And, my god, was he happy he did, because thighs touching thighs, scents mixing with scents, body pressed against body, and one look down, Eddie was exposed to the glory of low-cut shirts, and your tits presented themselves so beautifully to his eyesight. But a worn textbook weighing the size of a fat dog had slammed into his lap, and suddenly his eyes were tainted by the image of an old, white man who surely didn’t arouse him like the picture of your boobs.

“Great… Thomas Jefferson.” A tight-lipped smile concealed his dismay.

“Uh,” your shy giggle captivated his attention, “no, Eddie, that’s actually James Monroe.”

“Psh.” He puffed his cheeks, nonchalantly waving his hand in the air to brush off his blatant error of mistake. “Right. Totally knew that, sweetheart.”

“It’s okay if you didn’t.” You smiled. “I’m here to help you, remember?” 

“Mhm.” His arm circled around your shoulders, letting your rest back in the comfortable bliss of soft cushions and his presence. He hummed seeing you tuck within yourself, thighs pressing into one another, and he could only imagine what you were trying to relieve. Because Eddie Munson had made you feel things. The sweet tingles you would get when you were alone at night and had all the time to yourself. When you would visualize what it would be like to have a boy like you, enough to want to be your boyfriend, and what you two would get up to. Lacey Fisher, four weeks ago, returned from her weekend birthday trip, and confided in you on how her boyfriend, Henry Aronofsky, took her virginity. She detailed to your curious mind that it had hurt. The initial intrusion, it stung. But then he kept going. And it started to feel good. But what was even better was the closeness. His body on hers. His lips on hers. 

You craved that. And having Eddie’s domineering heat radiate on your skin had your pussy pulsating with a thumping tingle that you didn’t know what to do with. Eddie was cute. Cuter than Nathan Cavanugh, Bryce Walters, or Harrison Moran. Eddie Munson had an edge that made you question why your cotton underwear was becoming uncomfortably wet under his stare. How could Donna McIntyre not like him? He was scarily hot. 

“W-What,” You cleared your throat, “what, um, period are you guys on… in Mr. Mendez’s class?”

Shit. “Uh…”

“It was period four, no?” You opened the textbook on his lap, flipping the silk pages to thumb through the chapters. “Donna had mentioned it, said she wanted me to help her study this weekend.”

Thank god for Donna McIntyre’s big ass mouth. Even if it did shit-talk him. “Yeah, yeah, period four, mhm.”

“Okay, so lucky for you, we will be talking about Thomas Jefferson today.” You chuckled. “Period four spans from 1800 to 1848, which will cover different aspects like the developmental growth of political parties as a result from the expansion of suffrage, and definitive aspects of American culture expounded by the Era of Good Feelings…”

Fuck me.

-

Eddie Munson sat through forty-seven minutes of the Jeffersonian Era, listening of the profoundness of the Revolution of 1800s, and America’s god given right to expansion and the manifest destiny- or whatever bullshit propaganda that damn textbook pounded out to high schoolers just to get to some pussy. But if the United States could gain the delusional superiority complex to conquer and prosper on westward, Eddie Munson could do the same- well, on you. This was just one obstacle. One hurdle. One step closer to obtaining his holy grail of getting his dream girl. Shoving a dozen of the triple chocolate chunk cookies you’d baked him was enough to get him through the painful lecture of the demise of the Federalist Party, though, the events of the Mexican-American War was interesting enough to get him into cheering on Mexican troops over Texan volunteers during the Battle of the Alamo, but enough was enough.

“…With the Treaty of Guadalupe Hidalgo, the U.S was able to gain the southwest territory, which would include New Mexico, Utah, Nevada, and California, but Mr. Mendez likes specifics, so also be sure to remember we gained the majority of Arizona and Colorado, which bled into parts of Kansas, Wyoming, and Oklahoma.” You huffed in one breath. “Oh! And recall the Monroe Doctrine! Given that we had now warned European countries of the potential threats that would happen if they continued to colonize the western hemisphere, the American win over Mexico had further cemented the U.S as growing world power, which gets into the promotion of democracy and isolationism, which we can get into next-”

“Okay, sweetheart, stop right there.” Eddie scrunched his eyes in agony, cutting you off from proffering anymore mush that was stirring in his already confused brain. “Sorry, uh- sorry, but, like, can we take a break?” He sighed.

“Oh.” Embarrassment rushed to your cheeks. “I’m so sorry, sometimes I can get too much into things, we can totally take a break or, um, call it a day if you’d like-”

“No, no, no, no.” He adamantly interjected, closing the textbook with crumpled notes of his compulsory—upon your request—chicken scratch handwriting, brandishing it away next to the crumb-filled platter that once was delicious baked goods. “No, baby, trust me, I don’t want the night to end.” He delicately nudged your chin with his finger, a teasing smile to pair. “I just got a little headache, s’all.”

“Well, are you sure you don’t want to leave to get some rest?” Your brows molded with concern. “We can pick this up tomorrow, or whenever you’re free.”

Eddie Munson played into his bluster of confidence, leaning in close to run a rough-tipped finger down the dough of your thigh, letting your skin wake and react to his heated touch. “What if I wanna rest here with you?” He whispered. “Have you take care of me?”

You gulped. “Um, l-like what?” You nervously giggled. “I can, like, make you soup for-for your headache.” 

“Well, I was thinking more like we can lay down.” He pouted to emphasize his pained facade. “Will you take care of me in bed, baby?”

You licked your lips timidly. “Um, I-I don’t really know if that’s, like, a-appropriate for, um, study sessions. Like, I don’t want you to think I brought you here under the guise of doing… stuff.”

“You can say it, princess.” He smiled. “Say it. You didn’t bring me here to have sex.”

Hearing Eddie’s sultry voice whisper the word had sparked up the special tingles nestled between your thighs, and he could see the sensation consuming your being. “Um, y-yeah. I didn’t bring you here to h-have sex.” Heart racing, you could barely gain the courage to force your eyes upon him. “That’s what, um, Harrison thought when I offered to tutor him.”

“Aw, no, I know, pretty girl.” He cooed, as he firm hand squeezed down on your thigh, pressing the hem of your skirt high. Your sunken teeth had become your only extenuative from letting out a squeal from the jolting sensation. “God, those morons are just dicks. Don’t appreciate how good of a tutor you are. How much of a good girl you are. Right, baby? You’re just such a good girl looking to help, huh?”

You nodded to confirm his sentiment. “Yes, Eddie.”

His hand creeped to separate yours, where they stayed tightly clasped within one another, and he rubbed his fingers against the softness of your warm palm, before confining your hand with his. “Why don’t we go to your room to just relax for a bit, sweetheart? You smell so good, bet your room smells just like you. I love it so much.” 

“Uh…”

“It’ll make me feel so much better, princess.” He cajoled. “C’mon, that’s what friends do, right? You said it yourself, sweetheart.” 

“And then we’ll study again?” You eyed him with a twinkle in your eyes. 

“Man, you really like history, huh?” He teased with a chuckle. 

“Of course!” You happily answered, which had him smiling at your enthused face that glowed giddily. “Why wouldn’t I like something I’m good at?” Spoken with all the confidence. 

Eddie softly laughed in admiration. “You’re so cute.” He gave your thigh another tender squeeze. “Why don’t we do this: you make me feel good, like friends do, and I promise to make you feel extra good?” He stuck out a promising pinky, as he watched you consider his all too innocent proposition. “I’ll make you feel so good, precious.” He whispered. 

“Just relaxing? A small break?”

“Mhm.” He smirked. Fairly ambiguous; not necessarily a lie if not clearly verbalized. But just enough to get you alone in your bedroom. Pinky promised. 

Hands held together, you guided Eddie Munson through the halls of your house to reach your beloved bedroom, where secrecy and intimacy laid between the silks and cottons of your sheets. Each step had Eddie’s dick thumping with excitement, just as anticipated as his heartbeat racing out of his chest. You had never had a boy in your room. In fact, this would have to go untold to the authority of your mother and father, too archaic to understand the innocence of it all. Because that’s all it was. Right? Helping a friend in need to aid him to recovery. Headaches can be killer. Mrs. Weber's fourth period chemistry class often had you succumbed with migraines. Science wasn’t like history. As how Eddie Munson wasn’t like Harrison Moran. He wouldn’t do you as the star quarterback tried with you. Because Eddie Munson was different. Nothing like Donna McIntyre tried to get you to believe. He was different. Right?

“We can just relax here for a bit.” You spoke, as you both entered the confines of your room.

The essence of your own personal girlhood defined the sacred space of your room. Where clean, white walls brightened the mood, personal pictures and feminine posters had livened it up. Sweetness had invaded Eddie’s nose, as he was surely met with the arousing smell of your perfume, predicted to the exact notion. Gold jewelry, the one that complemented your skin beautifully, where dainty necklaces would become suffocated in the valley of your tits, where shiny earrings would decorate your earlobes that Eddie wanted to mouth on, had displayed themselves neatly amongst the products of beauty and self care. Pinks and silks, frills and lace, embodying your sweetness to a T. Effeminate in all aspects of nature.

And Eddie Munson was ready to defile everything. 

Unabashedly, Eddie had breached beyond the realms of a visitor’s right, and taken advantage of the whole ‘make yourself at home’ sentiment that you had actually never spoken; nonetheless, he’d marched his way to your comforting bed occupied by a number of stuffed animals that unfairly got the privilege of seeing you in your most intimate times. 

He splayed himself on the expanse of cushions, a groan leaving his mouth as he relished in the feeling of a bed that wasn’t stabbing of springs, starfishing the expanse that left you giggling on the sideline. “What’re you laughin’ at, you little punk?” He perked. 

“Don’t be mean.” You laughed, watching him grab onto one of the many companions that inhabited your bed. 

“Mm, I think I’m deserving of pokin’ a little fun at someone who owns like fifty stuffed animals.” He smirked, as he beckoned you with a curling finger. 

Given his limbs had almost entirely taken up the breadth of your bed, you were left to sit back on your heels, posture pristine as ever, with your hands neatly kept on the safety of your thighs. Such a sight for sore eyes. Brazen without a care, he hungrily eyed you top to bottom. Bitten lips to round boobs to soft waist to expanding hips. Your revealing skirt inching away and away, giving him a sneak peak to his next meal. 

But while his stares lingered on your body, yours had unintentionally followed suit. Laid flat, the apparent bulge beneath worn denim did not hold merit to the art of concealment, and a quiet gasp left your mouth as you scolded yourself for even peering at your newfound friend like that. “N-Not fifty.” You sternly stated with a smile to get your head straight. “Just four.”

“Still a lot.” He said, investigating the furriness of a chubby bumblebee, one where pink and white instead took over the naturally occurring black and yellow.

“Oh.” His comment had suddenly hit you in a way that made you shame with embarrassment. Unbeknownst to him, of course, he was still finding amusement in the flappy wings of the plushy insect. “Um, d-do you think it’s, like, childish? N-Not mature?” You scratched the back of your neck. Perhaps it was the attachment to the juvenile interest—referred to as by Montgomery Davis, a former love interest that didn’t last too long—that prohibited you from finding an adequate boy to be with.

He had chuckled at the fat stinger. There’s no way that could impale someone. But he had heard the apprehension in your voice, peering up from your stuffed animal to see your more than disappointed face. “Oh, no, baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” He quickly forwent Bugsbee the Bee to the side, as a calloused hand landed on your knee for reassurance. Sitting up, Eddie Munson overstepped the boundaries of a tutee to whisper his hot breath against your lips. “I fuckin’ love ‘em. So cute, babe. Just like you.”

“Really?” Your dough eyes scanned his face.

“Would I ever lie to you, sweetheart?” He pinched your cheek. “That’s just not what friends do.” He smiled, as he laid back down. “So, is that what you like to do for fun? Get stuffed animals?”

“Um, not necessarily.” You beamed. “I just like having them around, you know? Keep me company for the things I do like to do.”

“Like what, baby?” He squeezed your knee. “Tell me all that you like doing.”

“Well, let's see, oh, uh, I love journaling. Like, writing my feelings down.” He nodded along, prodding as encouragement for further information. “Uh, typically it started out just in the morning, like, when I wake up, I’d write about what I’d like to accomplish for the day. But then, I kinda realized it’d be nice to vent after a long day, so now, I really just do it whenever.” You shrugged. 

Boys didn’t care about this stuff, but Eddie Munson asked questions. “Yeah?" He grinned. “That sounds nice, baby. Feels like some therapy shit I need.” He chuckled. “Does it make you feel good to write about your feelings?”

“Yeah!” You happily answered. “Um, sometimes it's hard to talk about what I’m feeling to my friends. Like, Donna, for example; she’s got her whole life planned out, she’s so smart. If it’s hard for me to understand what I’m feeling, then I know Donna won’t. I’m scared she’ll judge me.”

“Donna’s a bitch.” He gruffed, with a groan of disdain. 

“No, don’t say that, that’s mean.” You chastised him. “She’s my friend, Eddie.”

“Right, right, sorry, baby.” He quickly made up for it. “It’s just hard to get along with her, s’all. But, uh, this journaling… what kinda feelings do you write about? Like, uh, I don’t know, private ones? You can tell me, honey.”

You nervously laughed, squirming in the seated position of being on your calves. “Y-Yeah, like, uh, well sometimes I worry that I won’t ever get, like, a real boyfriend. Like, a serious relationship. Not like whatever gross hookup the boys at our school want. I don’t want that.”

Eddie caressed the skin of your leg. “Totally, babe. Don’t waste your time with the little boys at our school. You need a real man, huh? Someone who’s gonna take care of their pretty girl.” He smirked, as you nodded in agreement.

Your heart lumped out of your chest, as you followed the languid movements of his large hand encapsulating your bent knee. His touch felt fiery against your skin, creating a series of goosebumps in his guided path, like a mark of territory. Your thighs, once again, clenched at his mercy. Seeing the prominent blue veins reveal themselves from under his alabaster skin had you striked with a familiar heated tingle. The tingles you’d have to satiate alone at night. “You think I can find someone like that?” You softly asked with all vulnerability. 

Eddie snaked his hand upward to gently hold one of yours. “Ugh, absolutely, princess, are you crazy? Sexiest and sweetest thing in the world, remember I told you? I meant it, baby. Sometimes you just gotta look right in front of you.” He smugly smiled. Your mouth went dry, as you attempted to ease your flustered smile. “Just like me, I need a princess to take care of.”

“Mhm, you deserve someone nice, Eddie.” 

“But, uh, I also need someone who’s not gonna judge me.” He perfected a pout that had you sympathizing at his feet. “Y’know, like I said before, some people are just so mean, wouldn’t understand me. Would you judge me, princess?”

“Oh, no! Never, Eddie! Solemnly, I understand the feeling, I’d never do that to you.” You preached with such vehemence, it had Eddie’s blood pooling to the length of his dick with a sickening smile eating his face. 

“So, you wouldn’t judge me if I told you what I like to do for fun, baby?” He played with your fingers, an act of innocence that had your heart soaring. 

“Nuh-uh.” You affirmed with a shake of your head. “You can tell me.” You delicately approached. 

“Well, sweetheart, I really really love touching myself.” He whispered, reveling in the sensation of your hand automatically squeezing his in a tightening hold, eyes rounding in surprise. “I do it all the time, sweetheart.”

“Oh.” Flustered beyond recognition, the single word had become the only thing trusted to speak, as his admission had ignited millions of sparkling tingles, letting a gush of wetness uncomfortably soak your precious underwear. 

He sneered with delight in power. “You’re not judgin’ me, are ya, baby?”

“No, no!” You rushed out. “I, uh- it’s totally n-normal… um, doing that. People- everyone does it.”

“Yeah?” He piqued with interest, watching you unfold into his ingenious trap. “You do it, too, princess?”

Your cheeks were invaded by hot blood, tainting your face with humiliation at the thought of giving up such intimate information. But he was your friend. You didn’t want him to feel judged. And lying was awful. Taught by the man, himself, Honest Abe. Great, and now history was being brought up again! It felt as if the devil had blown his burning breath to flame your face with embarrassment, but the devil was enticing, inching you to the darkside, where you’d be gifted with the persuasion of pure hedonism for the rest of your life. Eddie Munson was the devil. Materialized in the most euphoric way possible. 

You were wriggling, letting spiking friction torment your pussy under his glare. He was waiting. “Um, y-yeah, Eddie. I-I do it. Sometimes.”

An airy groan left his mouth, one he didn’t obscure, simply letting it out for you to witness. “Mm, I knew you would. Pretty girls like you love to touch themselves.” Holding his hand seemed to be the only form of comfort to enduring his gross words. You didn’t want to let go. “Love rubbing your pussy, don’t you baby?”

You didn’t like that word. But words deemed filthy by your definition only seemed to burn you coming from the mouth of Eddie Munson, himself. Harrison Moran once said he’d like to see your pussy. It made you scowl in disgust, and kick him out. But Eddie Munson had you enamored. 

“Yeah.” You whispered bluntly, feeling that his trust could leave you to softly speak with no repercussion. 

“Tell me, sweetheart, with your fingers?” He embraced your hand. “You play with your pussy with your fingers, put ‘em inside to fuck yourself?” Before you could reason, your head had taken the liberty to shake itself for you. No. Eddie’s brow lifted in confusion. Not to define you by the shyness of your nature, but you hadn’t necessarily struck the pervert, himself, as a user of sex toys. Well, at least, he hoped not. Something about introducing you to the world of vibrators and dildos made his cock jump with joy. “You don’t finger yourself? 

“Hands are too small.” You meekly answered, so lightly he could barely hear it.

“What do you do then, baby?”

Perhaps the alchemy of wizardry and spell casting from his beloved hobby of Dungeons and Dragons had magically manifested itself into his current reality—at the very least, it felt as though it had—as Eddie Munson’s words had you reeling in a sudden candid behavior too unfamiliar to your prospective nature. Not to say fibbery came as an innate trait for you, in fact, you honored yourself in the frankness of your words. 

But you had never acted on impulsion. 

And it felt as though Eddie’s provocative language had you destined at his mercy, forcing your body to act with no regards. There was no thinking under his gaze. No hesitation. For the briefest second of quickness, your eyes had landed in the ivory plush of an adorably stuffed bunny sat just three inches away from his shoulder, that had answered his ribald question. 

Your cheeks had ablazened when his quick eye followed your glance that lingered in the air. The corner of his lip had disgustingly peaked into a diabolical smirk, as his perverted mind exploded at the revelation. “Aw, sweetheart.” He groaned, a curious hand reaching out for your bunny.

“No, Eddie!” You tried to jeopardize his movements with urgency. “D-Don’t touch it, it’s not-”

“What is it, sweetheart?” He picked up the bunny, despite your protests. Eddie examined the cute stuffy, his perverted reflection shining back at him through the glassy, round eyes that mimicked your humiliated ones. “Shit, princess, you rub your pretty pussy on your bunny, hm? Does humping your stuffed animal feel better than fucking your fingers inside your cunt?”

“Eddie.” You whined with embarrassment, so shamefaced, dropping your head in your hands to conceal your burning expression. 

“It’s okay, darlin’.” He smiled, loving the twisted feeling of having his dick pulsate at your sheepish state. Eddie pried your hands away, revealing your timid face to him. “Remember, baby, I’m not judgin’ you, I just wanna know. Friends, they tell each other everything and help one another out, you gotta tell me, baby.” With a single hand gripping both your wrists tightly, you refused to look him in the eye, fear consuming you at the thought of Eddie Munson finding you gross for your actions. A wave of tears were threatening your eyes, and you hoped peering at the organized clutter of your nightstand would be enough to withstand the mortifying experience of crying after having him learn what you did. 

“You’re gonna make fun of me.” Your trembling lip managed to mutter out. 

“Aw, no, baby, I would never.” He turned your chin to force you to face him. “Honestly, sweetheart, thinkin’ of you doing that is so sexy.” He groaned with a bite to his lip. “God, picturing you humping your little stuffed animal has me feeling a little hot, see.” His hand deserted your face to rake over his pronouncing bulge, that seemed larger than before. “Mm, got me so worked up, baby. This is all your fault.” He moaned, squeezing his cock with a heavy hand.

Your mouth had opened at the sight of him touching himself over his pants. Those funny tingles had bursted between your thighs, and so insecurely, you questioned him. “Really?”

“Ugh, absolutely, babe.” He returned to your bunny, laying back to play with the small arms of your teddy, as his hand remained stationed on his boner, massaging his erection with breathy grunts leaving his mouth. “You’re so fucking beautiful, princess.” While attempting to ease your emotional nerves, Eddie had taken a good look at your bunny, the evidence of your usage being found in the matted fur surrounding the pink nose of your innocent companion. “Shit, did you fuck yourself this morning, baby?”

“That’s why I didn’t want you to touch it!” You dreaded. “I promise I’ll clean it, give it here-”

A loud gasp left your mouth, as Eddie rejected your request, bringing your stuffed bunny nose to nose, inhaling a waft of the lingering scent of your pussy. His eyes closed in ecstasy, moaning loudly as your raw smell invaded his being, rubbing the tent in his pants harshly for any form of relief. “Fuck, baby, you smell so good. I gotta touch myself.” He flung your precious stuffed animal back, in reach for his belt, cursing under his breath as his abrasive movements momentarily caused the leather to tighten when needing to be off. 

“W-What?” Your brows jumped to crease your forehead. 

“I can’t help it, baby, you’ve got me so fucking hard right now.” Eddie tugged opened his belt, rushing to undo the brass button of his pants. “Fuck, you’re not gonna judge me, right? That’s not what friends do. In fact, friends help each other out. Especially when they’re as sexy as you, baby.”

Swollen to a girth of thickness, Eddie’s cock smacked out with eagerness to fuck, and his precum oozed out, as he watched your face morph into surprise at seeing the first cock in your life. His ringed hand wrapped around himself, cursing under his breath as he felt the jolts of pleasure crash over him. “I touch myself like this, baby, fuck.” He squeezed the head of his cock, smearing his precum down to his base. “Do it so much to you, god, fuck me, princess, I think about you all the time. Can’t stop myself from jerking off at the thought of your pretty, little face.” Eddie whined. 

Your lips stayed stationed agape from the divulgence and sight of what was occurring in front of you. You hadn’t even prospered the fact that your body was reacting more candidly than your mind had anticipated, and Eddie nearly blew his load watching your thighs swish against one another to relieve your arousal. “Y-You think about me?” You delicately spoke. 

“Of course, fuck, fucking look at yourself, mm.” He tightened his grip. “Shit, baby, are you feeling horny, too? Is lookin’ at me making you wanna rub that fucking pussy?”

“U-Um, I-I don’t know.” Nervous eyes attempt to look around for anything that wasn’t Eddie Munson masturbating in your bed. “I-I don’t wanna do anything… anything bad. I don’t wanna get in trouble, Eds.”

“No, no, baby, it’s not bad, it’s good- so fucking good.” He sucked in his breath, as his hand picked up the pace. “Fuck, you’ll feel so good, darlin’- let me make you feel good, princess.” Eddie heaved, inching his large hand up your thigh until his fingers brushed your risened skirt. “Don’t tell anyone, and we won’t get in trouble.”

You watched with heavy pants, as Eddie’s strength managed to dig his fingers into the fat of your inner thigh to part them, and reveal those drenched baby pink panties he so perfectly predicted in the filth hive of his mind. “L-Like this- um, Eddie I’ve never done this with someone else, I-I don’t what to do-”

“Shh, shh.” He demanded, saving your breath from a wrecking tirade of being inexperienced. “Just let me touch you like good friends do.” His fingertips skimmed the puddle in your panties, causing an unwarranted squeal to escape your mouth, as you bucked your hips into his touch. “Oh, my-”

“Mm, Eds, you’re making me feel funny!” You attempted to close your legs, but his hand was quick to lightly slap your thigh in refusal. 

“Don’t fucking close your legs, fuck, just let me touch you.” His grip held you exposed to him, and he was aggressive with the way the pad of thumb smushed against your covered clit, forcing you to ball your sheets into your tightening fists. 

A guttural moan was ripped from you, as his thumb worked intricately to circle your clit, letting your hips ride his fingers. “E-Eddie!”

“That’s right, just hump my fucking hand, baby.” He whined, as he continued to jerk his cock, until his hips were following in sync with yours; his pivoting to thrust into his hand, yours grinding in desperate need for release. “Shit, touch me like I’m touching you- fuck, put your hands on me.”

Eddie’s slick hand grappled onto your wrist, pulling your resisting fist from your balled blanket onto his dick, where he maneuvered your fingers to wrap around his girth and mimic the strokes he once gave himself. A surge of wetness gushed at your given ability to elicit a deep groan from Eddie Munson. Seeing him react to your touch as such spurred a wave of confidence to continue your ministration, tightening your grip around his dick and providing him the languid movements that had his heavy sack pulsating with a need to cum. 

But Eddie Munson’s ego was growing expeditiously. 

And he wasn’t about to be putty in your hands- your oh so tiny, soft hands that gripped him like a vice and made him to want to fuck it for an eternity. No. Not when his hand was cupping your hot pussy, fingers becoming moist through your wet underwear, as they dug between your lips to rub that sensitive little clit and had you whimpering at his command. 

“Fuck, stand up, princess.” He shoved your hand off his cock, simultaneously choosing to regrettably tear his away from the warmth of your cunt.

Whining in despair, you stuttered. “W-What? Why?”

“Because,” Eddie positioned himself to the edge of bed, grabbing your hand to guide onto wobbly feets, pins and needles pricking your legs as they woken from their previous position, “I’m gonna put my cock between your pretty, little lips.” 

Manspreading, his thighs parted for your residence, Eddie’s penis burning red with desire, as it hung heavy against his abdomen, each protruding vein slimed with a coat of his precum. His hands rested on your hips, and he smirked as he took in the sight of your body, one he desired so much to just touch and violate for his pleasure. The blatantly obvious was shown in your face; your undivided attention had primarily focused on his dick, and he couldn’t help the chuckle of egotism that erupted from his chest, as he smoothed down the bumps and curves of your body. 

“Aw, you like looking at my cock, princess?” He sneered with a drenching voice of condescendment that had your head snapping with embarrassment.

“I-I’m sorry-”

“No, no, baby, don’t be.” Eddie’s focus began shifting to the hem of your shirt, teasing it up to reveal the soft navel of your belly.  “It’s all yours to look at. Just like your pussy is all mine.” He bit his lip. “Especially when I fuck my cock inside of you, hm, you gonna let me, baby?”

That had your chest heaving with bursts of nerves, both good and bad. To know Eddie wanted that closeness with you was profoundly what had your heart fluttering with the idea of him loving you to a committed relationship. One where he was a boy calling you his girlfriend, and you were a girl calling him your boyfriend. But Lacey Fisher’s words had suddenly begun playing in your head like a record on loop. “It hurt.”

And Eddie Munson’s cock was pulsating at a length in which both of your hands had to wrap around his girth just to mount it. 

“Um, I-I don’t, uh- Eddie I’ve never done that b-before… I want you, like, to be my boyfriend, right? Like, this is what boyfriend-girlfriends do? B-But maybe I should wait- or we should… as boyfriend and girlfriend.”

There was a little hint in your voice. The way you suggested your ending in a lighter octave, fear that Eddie didn’t want to be your boyfriend, that he’d be just like Harrison Moran. But Eddie Munson wasn’t Harrison Moran, and his smile lit up at the timidness of your stature.

His dream girl. 

“I get to be your boyfriend, baby?” He leaned in to press a tender kiss upon your thigh. 

A shy smile corrupted your face, as you nodded to his question. “Mhm! Is it okay if we kiss like boyfriend and girlfriend?”

He chuckled at your cuteness, squeezing the meat of your legs in frustration at the overload he was feeling for you. “Of course, princess, c’mere.” Bending slightly at the waist, Eddie took the liberty of enduring most of the labor of stretching as far as he could until his lips crashed upon yours. Your mouth just as sweet as your being, Eddie moaned at the moisturizing sensation of the vanilla strawberry lip gloss that conjoined you together. His hands were aggressive to suddenly keep your cheeks in place, forbidding you to leave his mouth until he was ready to let go. It’s why you squealed when learning Eddie had no shame being the messy kisser he was; pushing his tongue between your lips, clashing teeth with teeth, consuming your mouth, and plunging an obscene amount of spit to your tongue, as his ravished in exploration. “Mm, fuck, love kissing you.” His delirious voice murmured against your lips. “Remember, honey,” he finished you off with one more peck, “you can’t tell Donna and friends about this. Not about how we got together, okay?” Eddie stroked your face. “They wouldn’t understand, only say mean things about you and me.”

“Okay.” You quietly agreed, wanting to protect your boyfriend from the harsh words Donna would possibly say. How could she pull you away under the guise of protection, when Eddie Munson’s been nothing but sweet to you? What was she seeing that you weren’t? Surely, you always kept your mouth closed, deciding against your sour opinion of Tucker Walsh, who Donna had on-and-off dated for months. 

“Yeah, you’ll be a good girl and won’t tell anyone?” He cooed, stroking your face. 

“Uh-huh.” You gently beamed, seeing his eyes scan your face with proudness. 

“Perfect.” Eddie pecked your nose. “Now, c’mon, sweetie, don’t you wanna show your boyfriend your tits? Always dreamed of seeing ‘em.” Untrustworthy of your awkward movements, you had let Eddie take the reins, simply standing straight to have him, once again, persist the labor of handling you to undress in front of him. His fingers tickled your sides, as they grappled with your shirt to pull it over your head, and spring your tits from the confinements of the tight material. Eddie dramatically sucked in his breath upon sight, mumbling swears because your nipples had hardened from the chill air. “So fucking pretty- fucking beautiful, sweet girl.” He groaned, taking advantage of your topless self, and having a squeeze at your boobs.

“Y-You think I’m beautiful?” You whimpered, loving the beguiling feeling of his callouses scraping your tits, only to pull and pinch at your sensitive nipples. 

“So fucking beautiful.” Eddie was quick to answer, placing a kiss to your belly button, which had butterflies fluttering in your stomach, making you swoon over your kind boyfriend. Boyfriend. “Most gorgeous fucking girl I’ve ever seen. Just wanna be with you so bad- always wanted to be with you, sweetheart.”

“You are with me… now.” You giggled, which had him grinning salaciously. 

“Yeah, I am, huh?” He hand traveled down to your skirt, playing with the soft fabric. “Got the prettiest girl in school at my hands, I’m so fucking lucky.” He teased his way to the hem of your underwear, teetering between gently pulling them down, only to secure them back in place just to have your squirming with want. “I want you to do somethin’ for me, baby, okay? Just wanna see you out of these cute, little panties, but, honey, turn around and do it.”

Ready to please him, you obliged, turning your backside to him, leaving you to look back and watch him sit back to enjoy the incoming show, as his hand wrapped around his cock and, once again, began his slow strokes. “Like this?”

“Mhm.” He breathily sighed. “Just bend over real deep, princess, so I can see up your skirt, and I wanna- fuck, I wanna see you take off your panties just like that, shit.” 

Eddie Munson was a little weird. 

But maybe that’s what makes your boyfriend so interesting. Getting to know him will be fun. But for right now, you’d do as he says. The idea of making him happy made your heart flutter with joy, as a little voice in your head spoke to you that Eddie Munson was there to make you happy, as well. Bending forward, your skirt had completely risen, exposing your ass to him and that darkened spot in your panties waving at him as a tempting testament to how horny he was making you feel. 

“God, what a fucking ass.” Eddie grunted, spurring his hips to fuck up into his hand. “Go ahead and take those panties off, baby, show me what’s waiting for me.”

Grabbing the lace of your underwear, you tugged down the cotton, fighting the bit of resistance from when Eddie’s fingers buried your panties between the lips of your pussy. But they peeled off, showing him strings of sticky wetness that clung to the gusset and glistened your cunt. Eddie had to immediately stop touching himself, almost shooting his cum out from the sight of your puffed pussy lips squished between your thighs. As your panties teased down your legs, pooling at your ankles, you were startled from the abrupt groping from your boyfriend, feeling him grab handfuls of your cheeks that kept you spread wide, as you stood straight. 

“Eddie!” You shrieked into small laughter.

“Oh, my god, you’re gonna fucking kill, baby, fuck, look at you- this ass, look at this fucking wet pussy.” He kneaded the dough of your butt, before placing a stinging spank to watch the fat jiggle from his heavy hand. 

“Ow, Eddie!” 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart.” He was quick to land delicate kisses to the burning area, as the incriminating hand ran over your skin to soothe you. “Just can’t fucking help it.” Securing your hips, Eddie turned you around until your pretty face was smiling down at him, letting his cock twitch with all love and adoration for you. 

“What now?” He loved your curiosity. Getting to corrupt your innocent mind into wanting more, until you were his eager slut, begging to shove his cock into all your holes until you were leaking his cum. 

“Now,” he smiled, reaching behind him to bring forth your plushie bunny, one tainted with your cum and it had his dick jumping for joy, “you’re gonna show me how you fuck your little bunny, baby.” You swallowed thickly at his request, a twinge of embarrassment coursing through you at the request of showing Eddie something so carnal. But he was your boyfriend. And you could find trust in your boyfriend to make you feel good. “But I also need you to work that little mouth around my cock, honey. Can you do that? Suck it for me?”

You feared disappointing him. “I-I don’t know how. I’m sorry.”

“No, no, it’s okay, I’ll teach you, baby. Just get on your knees for me, yeah?” Last month, Eddie nearly combusted into the crotch area of his jeans watching you suck on a red lollipop during the chaotic minutes of lunch. Safe to say, an entire monologue teasing the meaning behind the potential return of hooded cultists had been ruined in the midst of advertising his upcoming campaign to his eager friends, who embarrassingly had to watch their Dungeon Master choke on his spit, when Eddie found your tongue twirling around the cherry ball of candy, only to suck up the syrupy saliva into you mouth. The head of his cock was no different than that lollipop. You’d do just fine. 

Letting your knees rub against your carpeted floor, your hands find perch onto his denim thighs, and you outlined the length of his cock with eyes, wondering how something of that thickness could fit into your mouth. Eddie parted ways with his pants, shuffling out of the rough material, with a metal chain and leather belt clanking along the way, to ensure enough room to have you get off on your stuffed animal.

“Go ahead, baby, start humping your little stuffie for me.” Eddie had meticulously placed your bunny between your legs, watching you for the moment your pussy came in contact with the nub of its nose. 

Eddie hissed at the affliction of pain from your nails digging into his hairy thighs, as you became too enlivened by the friction of your clit grinding against your little bunny to account for the provocation you were besetting against him. But Eddie Munson loved it. His immoral mind found arousal in watching you abuse his skin from pleasure, compelling his cock to jerk with profound need. 

“Yeah, feel good, princess? Rubbin’ that fucking pussy?” You pathetically nodded, gentle whispers of whimpers leaving your mouth, as you humped your teddy with all conviction. “God, just love usin’ that little bunny as a fuck toy, huh?” He pinched your chin to force your glossy gaze upon him. “Just like I’m gonna use you, right, honey?”

“Mhm, oh my- mm, fuck!” Your tummy clenched, as your hips picked up the momentum to circle the stuffed animal's face, and defile its fur with your wetness.

“Yeah, you’re gonna be my sweet, little bunny?” Eddie’s thumb began pulling at your bottom lip, leaving him cursing as it bounced back to its plumpness. “My sweet, little bunny who’s gonna be my little fuck toy to use whenever?”

“Y-Yes, Eddie… whenever.”

“Fuck, open that pretty fucking mouth for me, and stick out that tongue, baby.” Holding his cock up, Eddie smiled as you obliged so kindly, letting him smack the angry tip of his dick against your tongue, as you finally got a taste of him. 

“This w-will make you feel good, mm?” You pondered through mumbles, as you lost yourself in the sensation of pussy buzzing from the burning friction against your clit. 

“Yes, baby, fuck, just keep your mouth open.” Eddie’s hand fell heavy upon the top of your head, as he beckoned you to take him deeper, letting his cock to become enveloped in the soft warmth of your mouth. It became no question of whether this would feel good for him, the guttural moan that left his mouth upon intrusion had your hips bucking with fervency. 

The viscid coating of his cock with pungent precum made you hum, igniting a series of grunts from your boyfriend, as hissing vibrations exploded in his body. Eddie guided your hands to the base of his cock, encouraging you to massage the leftover that wasn’t occupied by your mouth. “Fuck, yes! Make it messy, baby, just spit all over it!” 

Eddie Munson sat back in rhapsody, losing himself in the delirium of having you choke on his cock, as your spit puddled his length, escaping your lips as you suckled on the frenulum of his head. His hair cascaded down, letting his body become too heavy to support as your mouth was bringing him a gratifying high that he never wanted to come down from. Your humps grappled against thumping his thumping veins, enclosing him into a vice grip that had him moaning at your mercy.

“Mm, sh-shit, princess, your—ugh, aaahh—mouth!” He huffed against his restricting lungs. Eddie’s hips began to mimic your bucking, as you moaned at the fizzing rub of your bunny scratching that greedy itch on your clit, allowing him to shove his cock to the gummy constriction of your throat, forcing you to gag on his invasive cock. Sweet spit raining down to his heavy balls, letting his pelvis of bushy pubes become soak with your secretion. 

You pulled off with a sore throat, thick strings of spit sticking from his cock to your lips, as your watering eyes scarily gleamed up at him. “Ugh! Y-Your too big- I can’t-”

“Yes, you can, fuck, it’s feels so fucking nice when you choke!” He urged your head back down, now blubbering with a need to finish on your tongue. “J-Just keep fucking yourself, shit! Don’t stop until I tell you.”

Your tongue reached to tickle the underside of his dick, memorizing his stern rigids that had your jaw hurting from breaking open. Eddie sat up to spy down your backside, where he virtually lost it at the sight of your ass cheeks recoiling from the lively movements of your hips humping your stuffy. “Ugh, you gonna cum, sweetheart?” He cupped your face, guiding your languid movements up and down his cock, as you went through the endeavor of nodding to his question. “Fucking cum, baby, cum all over your little bunny!” He demanded. 

His heavy hand landed on the back of your head, shoving your face to become suffocated in the unruliness of his pubic hair. Nose inhaling his musk, you sputtered on his cock, gagging at his length prodding at the back of your throat, all to bring Eddie’s long arm down to reach for your ass. A burning sting from a substantial slap had you wailing on his fat cock, “Fucking faster.” He dictated your movements, spurring your hips to drive into the plushy with spanks to your tormented ass. “Cum with me, fuck! M’gonna cum! Cum, baby, cum!”

The bundle of nerves in your pussy began detaching from one another, like a rope inching to snap. Rutting into your stuffed animal, your muffled moans were buzzing his cock, bringing you to the brink of a gushing explosion. Your thrusting became uncoordinated, as your tummy bursted with euphoria, and your release adulterated your white bunny. 

Sobbing on his cock, his stomach muscles tightened into an agonizing cramp, as his balls clenched to pump out his seed, flooding your throat with his hot cum. “Ah! Shit, shit, shit—ugh! Fuck me!” Gagging, your hands repeatedly swatted his thick thighs—decorated with the crescents and blistering scratches of your nails—to release you from potentially vomiting on his dick. 

His hand relinquished his hold, allowing you to come up for air. Gasping, struggling to find a breath of fresh air, as a concocted mixture of spit and cum dribbled out from your mouth, but you had no hesitation licking your lips to consume the strange taste of his release.

“Holy shit, that was incredible!” Eddie dropped back onto your bed, hands gripping his sweaty curls, as he urged his mind to collect the events that just transpired before him. Chest heaving, teeth gritted, skin moist, this- this is what that Belinda chick was singing about! It wasn’t until a warm head landed on his thighs, that his thoughts jumped to prioritize your wellbeing. In retrospect, the notion of his sticky balls pressing into your temple with his flaccid cock resting upon your forehead shouldn’t have been so idyllic to Eddie Munson, but my god, was his heart constricting at your exhausted state—half-lidded eyes begging for rest, plump lips parted for airy breaths, and your manicured fingers delicately tracing against the hairs of his thigh to soothe the injuries you were beginning to feel remorseful for inflicting. 

His hand gently stroking your cheek, garnering your attention, letting you tiredly peer up at his rosy state of pink cheeks and glistening skin. “You okay, princess? Too much? I shouldn’t have gone so rough, I’m sorry, baby. Fuck, just lost myself, you felt so good.” 

“It’s okay.” Your saccharine voice assured him. “You’re my boyfriend, you can do anything to me.”

Eddie Munson lovingly smiled at you, as he caressed your hot face. “As long as you want it. Only. Okay?” You nodded with confirmation, and you gazed up at your boyfriend with endearing eyes that had him bubbling with devotion to you. “Such a good girl, did you cum?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I promised to make you feel extra good, didn’t I, baby?” He smirked. “C’mere.” His strength guided you onto your bed, laying you against your cloud-like pillows, before reaching down to grab a hold of your bunny. Soiled with your cum, Eddie’s menacing grin cracked through his face, as he lightly pressed a finger into the wet fur. Your tummy stirred watching his tongue delve into the drenchness, and humming with delight. “Fuck, your pussy taste so good.” He groaned, discarding your stuffy to climb between your thighs.

Steady on his knees over you, he peeled off his ragged shirt, exposing his ivory skin of sharp bumps and squishy softness, ornamented with scary images of permanent ink your parents would surely scowl at if they ever saw. You beamed at him. “You’re so pretty, Eddie.”

His teeth stabbed into his lips, as he teasingly smiled with giddiness. “Thank you, darling. Never as pretty as you, though.”

While wanting the intimacy, you couldn’t help the surge of anxious nerves that brought an onslaught against you, as Eddie began trying to liven his cock with small strokes while eyeing your glistening pussy. “W-Wait, um…” His brows jumped into his bangs, as he awaited your concerns. “No.” You swallowed thickly. “Eddie, I’m not ready for… that.”

He could be Harrison Moran. He could break up with you. He could scoff at your prudeness. But Eddie Munson was simply a perverted man who devoted his longing into the beautiful girl that graced the halls of Hawkins High. He wasn’t Harrison Moran. And you learned that as Eddie stayed silent, merely leaning down to place an electrifying kiss to your lips, pouring out all his adoration for the girl that captivated his dreams every night for the past two years. 

“I still wanna keep my word, sweetheart.” He murmured into your kiss. “Can I do something else?”

You meekly looked into his darkwood eyes. “Will it hurt?”

“Not at all, princess.” He eased the scrunch of your worriment brows with a peck to your forehead. “I’d never hurt you.” 

With the nod of your head and the words of your mouth, Eddie had your corroboration to do as he please, and his mouth had traveled down the junction of your neck, sucking small love bruises to the column length; to the valley of your breasts, where his lips unclosed your hardened nipples with gentle suckles; and the softness of your bell, decorating your stomach with appreciative kisses that made you feel beautiful to the touch; before his breath became hot over your needy cunt. Sugary kisses of mawkish desire met the plushness of your inner thighs, inching to your swollen pussy lips, irritated and slick from the rawness of rubbing against your bunny. 

His long tongue dragged its way to part your cunt, leaving your breath to hitch at the newfound contact of his wet muscle ravishing you. If this is anything close to what he felt when your mouth was on him, surely you could forgive him for the bruised throat you’d have to aid in the following morning. Eddie became brutally gluttonous at the tangy arousal he slurped from your pulsating hole. So small and unused, he’d have a fucking field day when the moment would come he could drill his cock into you virgin pussy.  

The tip of tongue burned against your abused clit, agonizingly teasing swirls around the nub just to flick it with fervency, and have you crawling away from the unbearable overstimulation. “E-Eddie!” You stumbled for air. Your foot had planted itself against his hot forehead at an brutish attempt to push his determined mouth away, but Eddie Munson triumphed you in the realms of physical strength, and his arm had pried you open, before securing themselves to ground your squirming thighs. 

Latched like a leech, Eddie was becoming feverish from the deliriums of being pussy drunk. Sucking onto your clit, his head shook to abuse you, forcing the muscles in your legs to tighten with trembles. Your scent had engulfed him, as his nose smushed against your clit to snake his tongue into the clenching walls of your velvet pussy. Incoherent words were tumbling into your pussy, entirely unheard from your wrenching moans. 

“So fucking good.” He gargled into your cunt, groaning into your pussy, and making out with your entrance. Heaven was a place on Earth, and it was you. 

“I-I can’t, Eddie! Too much!” Though, your actions had conflicted with your words, hands buried into his hair, shoving his face to be submerged between your thighs, as your hips gyrated against the dimensions of his pretty face. On the precipice of letting go, your back flew off the surface of your bed, shaky legs lovingly crushing his head, with a moan beyond hotter than the numerous porno films of corny lines and exaggerated screams Eddie consumed just to perfect his skills. “I’m c-cumming- aahh!”

Eddie slurped your remaining juices, tonguing your pussy in search for anymore of your delicious cum that he would relish in. Patting your throbbing clit with a cherishing kiss goodbye, Eddie climbed your limp body, with a mouth and chin laminated with your wetness. One he smashed into your mouth with a smearing kiss against your lips, giving you a taste of the tarte sweetness of your pussy. 

“You’re such a good boyfriend.” You breathily giggled against his mouth, leaving him chuckling at your inebriated-like state. “Best one I’ve had.”

“I’m the only one you’ve ever had.” He laughed, as he guided you to rest on the thumping beat of his full heart. 

“So?” You smiled. “Donna’s always complaining about Tucker, and you’re nothing like him. I could never complain about you.” You were making him melt into a puddle of mush, as your words erupted in his tummy. He smiled down, kissing your hairline, before nudging you to grab a hold of your lips to his. “Mm, you smell good.” You hummed with delight.

Eddie guffawed. “Princess, that’s your pussy on my face.” He bumped your scrunching nose with a tender finger. “I probably smell like sex, sweat, and cigarettes, sweetheart.”

“But it’s you. I like you, Eddie.” Your round eyes peered up at him, and he held your contact.

“Yeah?” He whispered. Insecurity was swirling within him. Surely you were just babbling from the orgasm gifted upon you from him. Eddie Munson was Eddie Munson. You were fucking you. His vulgar behavior and profligate mind was undeserving of a girlfriend like-

“I’ve liked you for a while.” You smiled with closed eyes. Relishing. The bombshell of the revelation had his bursting with cinching brows of astonishment. “Remember, two years ago, we had art class together?” Remember? It was the day Eddie Munson first laid his eyes on you, of course, he remembers! Don’t say it, don’t say it, don’t s- “I saw you, and you were just so cute doodling in your sketchbook. These scary monsters, and stuff. But they were good. I always wanted to compliment you on it, but I never got the courage. Just stuck to having a crush on you.” You delicately giggled. 

Eddie Munson could have been fucking you for the past two years?!

You were quick to hum into a light slumber. Eddie was stupefied at the actual idiocy he was currently metaphorically forehead-slapping himself for. That was until your sudden jolt had him jumping with concern.

“Oh, my god! Eddie, we completely forgot to go over the promotion of democracy and isolationism coming into the late 1800s!” You heaved.

He cooed. “Oh, sweetheart…”

𝐓𝐚𝐠 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 | @sierrahhh

[eddiethebanished]

It’s Only Fair

leadsinger!reader

Summary- Eddie’s working as a bouncer at The Hideout on ladies night, watches your band play.

Warnings- I’m not really sure if there are any? Please let me know if there are so I can learn.

Eddie had never seen so many women, especially at The Hideout of all places. By the time he got to work there was a line wrapped around the building.

He had been working at The Hideout as a bouncer for a few weeks, in exchange his band would be able to play more gigs at a reduced fee. But he had yet to work a Wednesday night,

which as it turns out was ladies night. Reduced price on drinks and girl bands gracing the stage.

With a groan Eddie pushed open the door to let the ladies in at 7pm sharp. A few had already been getting rowdy, banging on the door begging for early entry. From then on it was the same monotonous movements. Check ID, take the cover charge, nod his head toward the door signaling admission. Ignoring the giggles and flirtatious batting of eyelashes from some of the patrons, Eddie could tell by the sea of bright neon color dresses he most likely wouldn’t be hearing his preferred type of music tonight.

“Harrington?” Eddie asked, surprised to see the shaggy brown haired boy standing in front of him. “What are you doing here?”

Steve scoffed. “It’s ladies night, Munson. Plus, Robins band is playing tonight and their singer is like a total babe.”

Eddie chuckled and patted steve on the shoulder as he walked through the door. After what felt like eternity of checking IDs, taking the cover charge, and nodding his head towards the entrance, the line ended, save for a few stragglers here and there.

The first band took the stage with big teased hair full of aqua net, they wore matching jazzercise outfits and played the most headache inducing pop music that would even have Cyndi Lauper nauseous. Eddie made his way to the bar in hopes David the bartender could make him something to ease the pain of the night.

“Want your regular, Ed?” David asked while wiping down the bar.

“Sure, better make it a double” he said over the sound of the bands pitchy singer.

“Never worked a ladies night before huh?” Eddie shook his head, David continued “It’s not that bad, sure the music isn’t great but there’s rarely any fights to break up, and I make a killing in tips!” Eddie nodded and slid a five over to David before he was called into a sea of girls ordering shots and half priced cocktails. Eddie took up residence at a table near the door where a bold Steve Harrington was striking out with every girl he flirted with.

The second band who took the stage was just fine, the third band came on late, drunk, and ended with the bassist barfing on the drummers cymbals. After a brief intermission to clean the stage, the lights dimmed. People scrambled from their barstools and dark corners to the middle of the room. Shouts and whoops erupted as the band took the stage.

“This is Robin’s band.” Steve said sitting up in his seat and nudging Eddie. One by one the band members stepped up on stage, Robin with her drumsticks gave a silly wave towards Eddie and Steve, the latter of which shouted out a “Woo!” The bassist arrived next blowing a kiss towards the audience, followed by the guitarist. They each had their own unique style that worked together, it showed cohesiveness without needing matching jazzercise outfits.

When the lead singer got on stage the crowd went wild, eddies eyes widened. Black oversized t-shirt with black shorts you could barely see, fishnets and doc martens. Eddie shifted in his seat to get a better look.

“That’s y/n.” Steve said looking at Eddie with a knowing smirk.

“Alright Hawkins how are we doing tonight?!” You said into the microphone. The crowd responded with cheers and applause as you started your first song. It was a cover of “Love Will Tear Us Apart” by Joy Division. By the end of the first chorus Eddie was enamored.

When the song ended, you grabbed your placid blue fender strat and slipped the strap over your head. Eddie wasn’t enamored- he was in love.

“Watch it, Munson. You’re drooling.” Steve said.

“Shut up, Harrington.” He said flatly.

“This one-” you started while plucking a few strings, “is dedicated to all the shitty guys in Hawkins that broke our hearts!” Jumping into an original song about dancing with the devil and having your girlhood stolen, Eddie realized why all these people were at this shitty bar. They were here to see you.

When your set ended, Steve nodded his head to go over to the stage with him. “Come on, I’ll introduce you to your future wife.” He added a wink and chuckled to himself. Eddie downed the rest of his drink and followed after Steve.

“Hey look, Steve, you really don’t need to-“ He was cut off.

“Oh come on, have some fun.” Steve said walking through the crowd.

“Hey guys!” Robin beamed “What did you think of our set? We’ve been rehearsing like crazy and I really think it paid off!” Robin rambled clutching her drumsticks.

“It was great, Robin-“ Steve began, he put his arm on her shoulder and said in a lower tone “where’s y/n? I think our boy Eddie here might want to meet her.” He grinned.

“Oh! She’s putting her stuff in the van, I’ll go get her!” Before Eddie could object, Robin bounced out of the propped open side door where he could see the band members putting equipment in the trunk. Robin returned shortly arm in arm with the lead singer, the girl of Eddie’s dreams.

“Steve, you know y/n.” Robin said, a grin plastered to her face. Steve nodded his head toward you. “This is our friend Eddie.” Robin said with a gentle push on your back towards where Eddie was standing.

“Hi.” Eddie said, with his signature smile, a little dimple forming on his cheek.

“Hey, I know you, you work here right?” You responded after taking a sip from your water. Eddie opened his mouth to respond when-

“Yeah Eddie is the bouncer, he’s also in this band that plays here Tuesday nights.” Robin answered for Eddie.

“Here, Robin I’ll help you with your drums okay?” Steve said raising his eyebrows and nodding his head towards Eddie. As they walked away Steve turned back and gave Eddie a thumbs up.

“What kind of music do you play?” You asked stepping closer to the curly haired boy.

“Uhh Metal, mostly. I’m also frontman and play guitar.” He responded nervously, shoving his hands in his jacket pockets. You rocked back and forth on your heels and looked up into his dark brown eyes.

“I’ll have to come check you guys out, it’s only fair after you seeing us play.”

“Fair- right I have to warn you though, it’s nothing like tonight,” Eddie started looking around at the crowd still lingering after your set. “We get about five drunk guys at the bar and that’s it.” He chuckled.

“Well I can guarantee there will be one more person at your next show.” You smiled sweetly, Eddie’s eyes couldn’t help dart to your lips, they looked so soft with a lingering shine from the gloss that must have worn off while you were singing. Realizing he was staring for a beat too long he cleared his throat and looked toward the open door. “So do you need help carrying anything out?”

“No, I’m all packed up but thank you.” You responded politely.

“In that case,” Eddie’s voice deepened as he inched closer to you. “can I buy you a drink?”

A blush crept across your cheeks as you nodded silently. He grabbed your hand and led you over to the bar where two stools had just become available.

David walked over to you two slinging a rag over his shoulder. “Hey rockstars, what can I get for you?” You both gave him your drink orders and faced each other on the stools.

“Okay, musician to musician, what did you think of the set?” You asked biting your lip nervously.

“Honestly, I was surprised.” He said, sipping from his beer bottle.

“Surprised we didn’t play covers of Madonna or Bananarama?” You asked while smiling into your drink.

“You could have sang anything and it would have sounded amazing.” He started. “When I came in today I couldn’t believe how many people were lined up to get into The Hideout of all places. But when I saw you up there, it all clicked”

You brushed a piece of hair behind your ear. “Oh stop, they’re here for the half priced drinks, that’s all.” You said self-deprecatingly.

“Hey, all those people stayed after that bassist puked all over the drums.” you both laughed together. “You were a natural up there.” Eddie’s eyes met yours, still with a smile on his face.

“Thank you.” You said while holding his gaze.

“Hey y/n, sorry” Robin bounced up to you both, “My curfew on school nights is 11 and it is now-“ she looked at her watch. “12:30, and you drove so do you think we could…” she trailed off.

“Yes! Shit, Robin, I’m sorry.” You reached for your pocket pulling out a few stray dollar bills, about to place them on the bar. Eddie quickly shook his head.

“Nope, it’s on me. Employee discount.” He said with a wink.

“Aw, thank you, I’ll make sure I buy your drink when I come see your show.” You said putting the money back in the pocket of your shorts while standing up from the barstool.

“Don’t worry about it.” Eddie said with a shrug.

“Come on, fair is fair!” You giggled and leaned close to his ear. “I’ll see you Tuesday.” You whispered softly before Robin pulled you away.

Eddie could get used to working ladies night.

[forestfrolickingfairy78]

Linked Universe Headcanons: What I think each of their roles would be in a boy band

I'm surprised how popular my prev one was! I was chatting to a non fan friend and she was curious what they would be like in a band, and asked me who the rapper would be...I reckon WILD hahah

Anyways...

Time: Not an active member but used to be a solo artist back in the day, he doesn't like being in the limelight as much and mentors/manages the rest of them. Still has that suave quality, a total heart throb and occasionally hosts a one off concert only available to the VIPS. He was the IT boy back in the day.

Warriors: Leader of the band and all rounder. He's a complete heartbreaker, can sing, and dance every style and fans go crazy over him. Very charismatic and flirty, knows how to make a fan feel special at a meet and greet and always takes a photo with them.

Twilight: I think lead guitarist, can sing beautifully and has one of the most charming voices, also very yeehaw and country when he goes on solo tour dates or drops his album. He's dripping with quiet confidence and doesn't share too much about his private life to fans, likes to keep a boundary between his private and professional life but will always be kind of them and never deny a photo or autograph

Sky: Has a beautiful voice, more shy and s o f t, he's one of the more quieter members and doesn't like being on camera as much but doesn't hate it either. Has that sweet prince charming vibe that everyone loves, would probably be a part time model on top of his band duties. Can play the guitar and bass

Wild: Absolute hardcore. He's def the main rapper and won't pass up the chance to drop any bars. He'll def go on rap battle tv shows and break EVERYONE. Mans got flow and swag, especially after getting a full arm of tattoos. What's the backstory behind them? He'll change it everytime he's on an interview. Absolute coolest dude on earth, fans LOVE him and how chill he is but you don't want to get on this guy's bad side or you'll be on his diss track list. Even the others are slightly scared of him. Always on social media posting selfies and updates, or threatening other artists that come for him or his band. Likes to film the other members to until Time tells him to cut it out and touch grass

Legend: I can see him having a lot of range in his voice, very powerful and can sing ballads. One of the lead singers and occasionally helps with writing songs. He CAN dance if he puts his heart and soul into it. He loves writing poetry and secretly writes love songs for himself based on a special girl, but he'll tear them up before anyone sees them. Would Probably records an incredible, heartfelt song he wrote and composed himself on his instagram then delete it after 5 hours beccause he'll be like, why the hell did I just do that? Fans would cry, wishing he would post more gems like that. Hates to be in the front but also fairly confident in his skills. Fans adore him because you can just see he's actually a big softie on the inside despite that tough exterior he puts up. Secretly jealous of Wild's rap ability, can't rap to save his life but maybe, one day.

Hyrule:

One of the lead singers, has the most melodic voice and can absolutely stun a crowd with his angelic vocals. Like Legend, also is one of the members with the most range. You know when you see someone in person and their just glowing? Yea, that's him. Sweetest celeb ever, everyone that's worked with him only has good things to say about this guy. Definitely has the most potential to go solo as well with his incredible piano skills. Can also play almost every other instrument, an absolute talent in everything. He also sponsors charities every now and then and interacts with fans on social media. Can do contemporary dance

Wind/Four: Tbh I think they would be good in broad way, both are great singers and still very much fanboys to the others. Their working their way, still in training. Can definitely see Wind going big on broadway and theatre and specialising in tap dance

Can you guess who is my bias? Or who's your bias? hehe

[badnewswhatsleft]

total guitar #160 march 2007 [joe's video]

transcript below cut:

You voted Dance, Dance in at No 57 in TG’s 100 Greatest Riffs, so we managed to collar the dual guitar talents of Fall Out Boy’s Joe Trohman and Patrick Stump to ask them how they write riffs, who they think is the ultimate riff-writing machine and what they deem to be the top five greatest riffs ever written…

Words: Claire Davies, Images: Joby Sessions

When you look at Fall Out Boy or listen to any one of their albums, it’s easy to dismiss them as pop punk scamps who like to mess around on the guitar but don’t take it that seriously. In some respects you’d be right, but singer/guitarist Patrick Stump and his talented co-guitarist Joe Trohman know quite a bit about writing insanely catchy riffs and playing guitar.

Patrick, for instance, doesn’t respect players who wail unnecessarily over a song. “I like restraint in guitarists,” he says. “It’s easy to go overboard and try to be Eddie Van Halen. But here’s the thing: you’re not.” Joe, on the other hand, is completely obsessed with vintage guitars. “I was really into vintage Gibsons, but I just used to break them all the time and it turned out to be kind of expensive. Now I play Washburns ‘cos they have that same wide-neck feel and pickups as some of those 70s Les Pauls.”

One thing they’re both passionate about, however, is writing great riffs and how you - by expanding your musical horizons - can write one with as much groove as Pantera’s Walk…

So guys, why did you choose guitar and when did you start playing?

Joe Trohman: “I started playing guitar because of Metallica. I used to listen to them loads and when my grandma got me the Live Shit: Binge And Purge video I couldn’t stop watching it. I used to play viola and trombone in my school band, but watching bands like Metallica and Smashing Pumpkins made me wanna play guitar. From the moment I got a cheap $50 guitar, I played it all the time.”

Patrick Stump: “I chose drums to begin with, but my dad was a folk singer in the 70s so he always had a guitar lying around. I’d mess around and write songs on it, but I never fancied myself as much of a player. When the band started I ended up singing, even though I was supposed to be a drummer. Then one of our guitarists quit, I had to fill in and it went from there.”

When you were starting out, which guitarists influenced you?

Joe: “Kirk Hammett and Dimebag had a huge impact on me, as did Billy Corgan. I was into a lot of lead players, I guess, but as I got older I realised how important it was to play rhythm as well. People don’t realise how good a rhythm player James Hetfield is. I also love Johnny Marr, who has probably been my biggest influence so far.”

Patrick: “I’m not a huge Stones fan, but I appreciate Keith Richards’ playing ‘cos it’s all about his riffs. Outside of that, my favourite shit as a guitar player is funk; everyone from James Brown to Prince. I also love jazz player Joe Pass, who is one of the only people good enough to noodle on guitar, and Jesse Johnson who was in a band called The Time from the Prince movie Purple Rain. My favourite solo of his is just one note, but the crazy shit he does with that one note is unreal.”

Moving on to riff-writing, how would you describe a guitar riff?

Joe: “It’s a cool guitar part that catches you instantly. It’s something you can play over and over without it losing its edge.”

Patrick: “Yeah, it’s four bars that are simple and that grab you immediately, like the riff from Janet Jackson’s Black Cat. I think a good riff comes down to a good rhythm section. When you look at a guy like Dimebag, he always got right in there with the bass and drums. Pantera were built on a groove as strong and simple as any R&B groove.”

Joe: “Yeah, Walk has to be one of the simplest riffs ever but it grooves, and that’s what matters: what you do with the riff and how much it grooves.”

So how do you come up with riffs, such as the one on Dance, Dance?

Patrick: “We just fuck around until we come up with something. You’ll come up with a gazillion riffs when trying stuff out, but every so often something will jump in front of you. Once you’ve got your four bars, stuff will start happening. With Dance, Dance I was just sitting in the van and we were all talking about The Cure, and I had this idea of a Cure bass line that they never wrote, which ended up being the riff in Dance Dance.”

What’s the best riff you’ve written?

Patrick: “I really like the riff on Of All The Gin Joints. But The Take Over, The Breaks Over from our new record [Infinity On High] is easily one of our best riffs. I wrote it after reading something Bowie said: that he was sitting around one day and decided that he really wanted to write a riff like Keith Richards did. So he wrote Rebel Rebel. After reading that I thought, ‘Fuck! I wanna do that!’”

What, in your opinion, makes a kick-ass riff?

Joe: “A great riff comes from being part of the rhythm and acknowledging that you’re not gonna produce something totally original. You should listen to loads of different music and put your own spin on it. Like on our last album we wrote a riff that was like Panama by Van Halen. We’ve obviously taken influence from them on that song, but we’re not ripping them off wholesale. Instead it’s like paying homage to them.”

Patrick: “When you’re writing a riff you’re part of the rhythm section and you keep up the tempo and rhythm as if you were the drummer. You have stabs as though you were the snare drum and you’re hitting low notes as though you’re the bass drum, but you’re also controlling the melody. At the end of the day, a riff is something that you can hum and it’s a rhythm you can play on drums. If you have both those qualities in your riff then you’re onto something good.”

What do you think are the Top Five greatest riffs ever written?

Joe: “I love the start of This Charming Man by The Smiths, and Black In Black by AC/DC. Walk by Pantera is probably one of the best riffs ever, same as Battery by Metallica, but if you can’t do triplets and haven’t got tons of stamina then it’s hard to play. I also love South Of Heaven by Slayer just ‘cos it’s so evil sounding.”

Patrick: “Satisfaction by The Stones is the be-all and end-all of riffs. I’d also go for Rebel Rebel by David Bowie, Janet Jackson’s Black Cat, the second section of Bohemian Rhapsody and Black Sabbath by Black Sabbath. That one riff alone changed metal as we know it. I also wanna throw in Owner Of A Lonely Heart by Yes ‘cos it’s a great example of having really talented guitarists who still keep it simple.”

Who do you think is the ultimate riff-writing machine?

Joe: “I’d go with Randy Rhoads, just ‘cos I love that riff in Crazy Train. That guy was a genius.”

Patrick: “Angus and Malcolm Young have written so many phenomenal riffs that you can’t do any better than those guys. But I come from an R&B background so I wanna say Prince, just ‘cos Let’s Go Crazy is so awesome. And I also wanna know who wrote the riff to Michael Jackson’s Beat It [TG mentions it was session musician and Toto guitarist Steve Lukather]. Was it Lukather? Yeah, of course it was: he played the riff and Eddie Van Halen played the solo. I wonder why Lukather doesn’t get more recognition? Now you’ve mentioned Lukather, I wanna change one of my Top Five riffs to Toto’s Hold The Line, ‘cos that’s one of my favourite riffs ever!”

How did you approach the guitars on your new album, Infinity On High?

Patrick: “We’re both playing a lot more rhythm on this record, but if there is lead then it’s in much more of a BB King way where there’s a call and response.”

Joe: “My favourite thing about the guitars on our new songs is that I can ad-lib when we’re playing live. I know scales well enough and understand the fretboard well enough to do that. I could never tell you what key something is in, but in my head I know what it is. The cool thing about being in this band is that Patrick and I play guitar really well together, and I’ve learned a lot from watching Patrick and playing guitar with him.”

So can we expect a lot of guitar interplay from you on this album?

Joe: “Patrick also plays piano on this album, so he’s not always on guitar, but we split up a lot of the guitar playing. There’s a solo on The Take Over, The Breaks Over that we split in half when playing live, even though on the record it was done by Chad from New Found Glory and Ryan from Panic! At The Disco. We thought it was cooler to have guest guitarists than guest vocalists. So yeah, we split a lot of the guitar stuff up and switched between rhythm and lead. The weird thing is that I’m always pegged as the lead guitarist of the band, but we always switch back and forth.”

Patrick: “I think in general, I play a lot of the single-note leads and Joe plays a lot of the octave and chord leads.”

Which tracks on the new album best exemplify you guys as guitarists?

Patrick: “The end solo of Don’t You Know Who I Think I Am? Is how I love to solo. It’s real bluesy, which is what I’m about as a player. I’d also say the solo on You’re Crashing But You’re No Wave.”

Joe: “Yeah, that one had a lot of Johnny Marr filler guitar in there, and also Don’t You Know Who I Think I Am? It's filler guitar that doesn’t really jump out at you, but it’s atmospheric and it changes the vibe without you really knowing it.”

Finally, how proud are you as guitarists of your new album?

Patrick: “This is my favourite record because it’s restrained and funny. It’s basic rhythm playing, which is my favourite kind of guitar playing. I’m much happier playing a strong riff 100 times over than playing a kick-ass solo once. We do have kick-ass solos, but the way we write doesn’t always leave that much room for them.”

Joe: “I learned from playing on this album that I don’t need to play solos all the time. I’m proud of the record and proud of the cool riffs and songs that we’ve written together.”

Patrick: “I’m less impressed when someone shows off, and on this record we don’t show off a lot so obviously you should be impressed… I’m kidding!”

[rushingheadlong]

(Left: Photo from an ebay listing from Magnifico Vintage Magazines; Right: Photo from a PDF scan from worldradiohistory.com)

I stumbled across this article (from Record Mirror magazine, 30 March 1974) and wanted to share it because it’s a fascinating follow-up to this article I’ve previously shared from Melody Maker which was printed a week prior. 

The Melody Maker article looked at the role of big business in the music industry, specifically by using Queen and another band Merlin as examples of “hyped” groups i.e. artificially manufactured to generate maximum interest. While this may be somewhat accurate for Merlin, it’s not true for Queen at all - and as the Record Mirror article above shows, they were not happy about this comparison.

(Left: From Record Mirror magazine; Right: The photo in question from Melody Maker)

Lead guitarist Brian May picked up the paper and waves it under my nose. "This article is the biggest load of rubbish I've ever read in my life", he declares vindictively. "Look, there are people going to read this article - some of them won't have heard of Merlin and some of them won't know us. The headline screams out commercial pop. They've printed a very old picture of us, which we hate, looking extremely poppy and underneath it is the word HYPE. The whole article says in a suggestive way that Queen are a hype."

So Brian is certainly not happy with the Melody Maker article - or at least he doesn't like the photo they chose! I suppose he would've preferred something from the Queen II shoots instead, though it is rather funny for him to call a photo taken only a year prior a "very old picture of us".

But alright, surely the rest are concerned with things other than how they look...

(Left: Roger quoted in Record Mirror; Right: Freddie quoted in Record Mirror)

"Freddie and I used to sell old clothes. In fact Freddie used to design and MAKE our stage costumes. We've always taken care to make sure that our clothes are just right and look good. Perhaps they'd prefer it if we went on in dirty jeans, but we don't really think the public want to look at that. I think they'd rather see something that looks good." ... "Oh, really," [Freddie] exclaims in disgust, "this paper has no flair - I mean to print this picture three times in succession... and just look at my arms!" He was horrified, "look how fat they appear, now my arms aren't like that at all - what do you think?" He rolls up his sleeves for me to inspection and I'd like to state here and now that the poor dear's arms are quite, quite slender!

...okay, that's on me, I should've realized that the two fashionistas in Queen would have thoughts about their appearances and such. Or at the very least I should've expected Roger to bring up the Kensington Market stall! Poor self-conscious Freddie, but at least it seems like the interviewer reassured him about his arms!

Enough about clothes and photos though, I wonder what else the opinionated Roger Taylor had to say about the Melody Maker article?

(Above: Roger quoted in Record Mirror)

"That's exactly how we think it is," joined in their drummer Roger Taylor. "Supported by the fact that they've compared us to a totally new band who we've never heard of. We don't want to say anything against them, but apparently they're just a straight pop band. Whereas we've been playing and working up to this for years. Christ, I'm 24, Brian's 25, Freddie is 27, John's a bit younger 23. Plus the fact that we're all intelligent enough not to want to be put across in that way. We want to put our music first."

Honestly, Roger makes a really good point here. When the Melody Maker article was printed, Merlin had only been together in their current form for less than a year and had only released one single. Their first (and only) album wouldn't be released for over 6 months, and unfortunately they would be disbanded by this time the following year.

That being said, the emphasis on their ages is very funny to me because while Merlin might be a young band, the individual members weren't exactly far off from Queen's own ages and experience.

Their lead singer, Allan Love, was born in 1946 just like Freddie and had already been in the music business for seven years. The youngest member of the group was guitarist Jamie Moses, who was only 19 at the time, but even he had been performing semi-professionally for six years. In fact, all the members of Merlin had some degree of previous experience in other bands and the rest of them were right around 23-24 themselves, the same ages as Roger and John!

But speaking of John, what does he have to say about all this?

(Above: From Record Mirror)

By this time John Deacon (who reminded me of the Alice's doormouse) had woken from his slumbers (too many late nights and early mornings), he was reasonably cheerful for someone who had had his clothes ripped off the day before. "By the law of averages," he was saying, "it's someone else's turn to be ripped off today."

That's a lovely tidbit of wisdom at the end there, John, but what on earth is that about your clothes being ripped off?? Unfortunately there's zero elaboration on this in the article, so I guess it's just left to us to imagine.

So, any final opinions from the boys?

Above: From Record Mirror magazine

Phew! If after all that you think that the lads are hypersensitive to criticism and feel animosity towards their critics, then let Roger put you straight. "No, we don't hold grudges - we just go round and wrench people's arms and legs off. Or send them bags of wet cement, nothing too violent!"

Amazing response, perfectly executed by the one who would later refute a Rolling Stone article about Queen by writing them a letter on an airline sick bag.

Never change, Rog. Never change.

[urcrowley]

BACK WITH ANOTHER DOODLE FOR THE COLLEGE AU :))

this time, it’s more focused on the LOV ebcuase I miss them a lot

Don’t mind how BAD this shit is, I’m having extreme art block right now 💀

Promise, I’ll draw more of them guys 🙏🙏🙏 just trust me pookies

Will ramble after the line again!!!!

- Okay, to start, The L.O.V are in a secret band together 😼

Like they’re just some misfits that ended up meeting one day,

All from different schools, and yet they manage to bond with each other.

(Found Family my beloved)

- Toga is the lead singer, ok, no one argue with me, I will riot 😾

She definitely told Uraraka abt the band despite the group deciding to keep their band a secret…

I’m a bit lazy to write how Toga joined the group but all you guys need to know is they protected her from some asshats and just adopted the poor girl into the group HAHHAHA

Ochaco is a bit.. skeptical since like these dudes are IN COLLEGE, But if Toga trusts them, she’ll give them a chance.

(She rants abt it to Izuku 24/7, they’re Gossip Buddies)

- Shigaraki is the lead guitarist of the band, I don’t know why I settled on this. It just fits in my opinion.

He didn’t want to be in the band, but Spinner managed to convince him

I don’t know what his course will be yet, someone pls send ideas 🙏 I’m desperate

- Spinner is the drummer!! He’s so cool!! I’m gonna explode!!

Literally the best one in the band idc

Besties with Shigaraki (no, they’re boyfriends wdym- /hj)

- Touya is the bass player, definitely the one people go to see the most..

My best friend was the one who suggested he would play the bass and I TOTALLY agree

Ugh, he probably only joined the band because he wanted to piss Enji off 💀💀💀

- Twice is the rhythm guitarist, if you don’t know what that is.. well.. not my problem, search it up.

He’s dumb, but we love him for it

I have no idea what their courses should be 😭 SOMEONE SEND IDEAS (2)

- Mr. Compress is the keyboard player!! :)

Keyboard players are underrated, they’re cool guys 😾🫶

(biased because my partner and my twin are keyboard players HAHAHHA)

- Kurogiri is their manager, basically the dad of the group (he’s tired)

Doesn’t even know how he got here but these guys have potential 👏👏👏

(*He’s not a student btw)

Small update: Hawks is officially a volleyball player w/ Mirko in this au

OKAYYYY THAT’S ALL FOR TODAY!!

I’m making this au a personal tag so I can keep track of it.. heh.. I’m so cool.. (I hate mysel-)

Hope you guys enjoy this au as much as I do!!

[valentoru]

|| Limitless ||

[CHAPTER 1]

SYNOPSIS: Gojo Satoru, a big time artist, who’s known for leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake wherever he goes. And you, the lead guitarist of an upcoming band, who’s absolutely certain that no one will ever love you. Through an accident in which you happened to kiss Gojo in a frantic state, you both decide, via convenience alone—and zero regard for both of your managers—to pull a fake dating stunt what could go wrong? Any press is good press…right?

PROLOGUE : MASTERLIST : NEXT

Two years later.

It was at times like these when you remember The Guy. Not that you’d ever been in this situation. You imagined, if he could see what you were doing right now, he would be viscerally disappointed in you. This was not why you wanted to become a musician, hell this wasn’t what you wanted point blank.

You had thought you saw your friend, Maki, coming and acted on total instinct throwing your arms around the man who was also getting water from the water cooler. By now, you’re sure she’s passed. To be fair he didn’t seem to mind the kiss, especially given such sudden circumstances. The kiss was pretty perfect though. Not too close not too far. If you were in a cheesy romcom you probably would’ve popped your foot.

Then that twinge of rationality hit you. You quickly pulled back from the guy and checked your surroundings before taking a deep breath. Only then does the magnitude of your irrationality hit you. Maybe, just maybe, you could tiptoe out of there act like no kiss was exchanged and forget this ever happened. Solid plan.

“Did—did you just kiss me?” He sounded relatively stunned, his hands had never quite made their way to your body but they were certainly close. In fact, he was still stood in the same pose, his arms out at his sides like he was in the middle of either grabbing you to pull you closer, or pushing you off him. You assumed the latter. Shit. There goes the plan.

You quickly look up, almost breaking your neck. Then you look up some more and—does this man stop?—finally your eyes lock on his and—you’re stupid.

You knew those bright blue eyes. And Gojo Satoru was a known ass.

Gojo “asshole” Satoru.

You had kissed Gojo Satoru. You had kissed Gojo Satoru without even getting a proper yes before slamming your face against his.

Fuck this.

Fuck everything.

“Uh…no?” You winced.

“Yes you did.”

“Okay, but I asked.”

“You absolutely did not.”

“Yes I did!” While you had asked, it had only been briefly before you were slamming your lips against his. But, you were certain in the fact you had asked for his consent.

“No, you didn’t.”

“Okay anyway I’m leaving.” You turned on your heel, if he let you go now, he would be letting you go unscathed. He would also probably be a complete fool.

“Not so fast.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, saying a silent prayer to who ever would listen and intervene and turned back around. “Yes?”

“Well, expect to be hearing from my lawyer. Bye now.” He offered you one of his lopsided smiles.

“Yeah, bye—wait what?!” Your back straighten rather abruptly through the sudden shock, a lawyer?!

“A lawyer. You’re in direct breach of a human right. I have my right to consent.”

What?? Okay you knew Gojo was bat shit insane but you didn’t know it went this far. Okay, sure, you hadn’t been very certain he had said yes before kissing him, but you’re sure that grumble you heard was a yes. Or was it a laugh? “But I thought you said yes?”

“I definitely didn’t.”

“I thought—okay. Doesn’t matter we can go back and forth about this for hours,” he bobbed his head, almost like some form of agreement? You couldn’t even tell. You were notoriously good at reading people, yet him? Nothing. You got nothing, maybe since he had the emotional range of a rock. “You can’t press charges.”

“Oh? Are you denying my access to another human right?”

“No—”

“Then the kiss. Explain”

Oh he was really insufferable.

“Well this really isn’t any of your business so—”

His eyebrows furrowed.

“No. Look you don’t get it my friend was coming—”

“Oh, so because of your friend you just go ‘round kissing people who are unwilling? You know that’s a crime of sexual misconduct, right?”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Besides I don’t see why this is relevant, or why me.”

“It is okay, Look I just wanted to prove something, I want my friend to be happy.”

“At the cost of your own decency?”

He continued to lecture you, but you weren’t really paying attention, no your mind was at work. You’d just kissed THE Satoru Gojo, the man of the hour in any room. One of the most sought after men of the 21st century. He had over 4 billon streams on one of his songs. And you? You were apart of an upcoming band, which was actively getting called a “one hit wonder”. Said “hit” only reaching just under half of the amount of streams Gojo had.

So how on earth did you exactly expect to convince your friends that you were actually seeing Gojo?

This man was single-handedly almost responsible for the disbandment of your band. He had made your roommate—dummer—cry. And Megumi never cried. Yet this one particular day, Gojos criticism had just been enough.

How on earth would you convince your friends you were attracted to this man?

“Wait.” You threw your hands up in a fake surrender. He was already walking away so you instinctively grabbed his wrist, though with his muscles it probably shouldn’t have stopped him at all, he still paused and turned to you, his eyes growing uncharacteristically dark.

“Sorry—uhm—about that.” You dropped his hand and looked up at him. “You didnt get my name.”

“I’m sure I can find that through a quick google search. Have a good night.”

“Wait—”

“So then, explain. Explain this properly to me because I don’t see why you had to kiss anyone. I mean, it is considered assault considering I didn’t consent.”

“Okay well I didn’t assault you.”

“You did kiss me.”

“Well not really.”

“Without my consent.”

“I did ask, actually, like I’ve been telling you.”

“Well why didn’t you wait for my answer?”

“What? You said yes!”

“Excuse me?”

You frowned. “I asked if I could kiss you and you said yes.”

“Incorrect. You asked if you could kiss me and I laughed.”

Oh, so it was a laugh.

“I was sure I heard you say yes!”

He raised an eyebrow at you, the silence so loud you daydreamed of the floor swallowing you.

“Listen okay, im so sorry that happened.”

He studied you for a moment. A look you once again couldn’t decipher. You couldn’t help but notice how small you felt in his domineering presence. He always made a point of people’s insignificance next to him. You’d seen him do it loads, just never to you.

except just a moment ago you almost stuffed your tongue down his—

“Is there something wrong?”

“No?”

“Well,” he continued calmly, “kissing a random stranger you’ve never met before may indicate that there is in fact something wrong.”

“There isn’t.” You insisted.

He nodded, thoughtfully. “Well, expect your mail in the next few days.” He turned again, and you leapt forward, grabbing his wrist once more. He turned and started at the spot your fingers wrapped around him—right below a watch—as though he wanted the skin to burn.

You let go of his hand again and took a step back. “Sorry I didn’t mean to—“

“The kiss. Explain.”

You bit your lip. You really fucked this one up. Were you really going to tell this man everything? Yes, considering you smashed your lips against his, it’s the least you could do. “Maki Zen’in.” He cocked his head to the side. “The girl who walked past, that was Maki Zen’in”

He had no indication of knowing who she was.

“Maki has…” you tilted your head to the side, the cringe of the matter almost knocking you to the floor. You couldn’t even find the right words to say. How does one even tell someone that their best friend has a raging crush on their ex, so much so that it lead to the breakup of their relationship? “I was briefly in a relationship with Yuta Okkotsu. But Maki and Yuta really hit it off.” You huffed and shut your eyes. You wished you couldn’t see it as clear as day, the way her eyes lit up when she was talking to him. You would’ve been evil to not break things off with him. The night you introduced her to him, she didn’t leave him alone, following him around like a lost puppy. It was so out for character for her, you knew you had to break up with him, you could tell he felt the same for her too.

“To cut a fun story short,” you cringed. “Yuta and me broke up and he asked her out but she said no because of girlcode, she didn’t want to upset me. But I know she really likes him and she’s afraid to hurt my feelings even after I told her I was over him.”

Not to mention you overheard her marvelling about him to your friend Toge. You knew it was so out of character for her, she had to be in love.

“So I lied, told her I had a date here tonight when I in fact do not. But I didn’t want her to know I lied since we’ve been best friends for years and I’ve never seen her so out of character. Plus, she really likes this guy—” and then it hit you, you’ve just been rambling about your failed love life to Satoru Gojo. You really had peaked. This man couldn’t care less about any of this.

You tried to swallow but your mouth was dry.

“Ah.” Once again, his expression was unreadable.

“Obviously, I don’t have a date and I forgot she would literally be here and see me. I panicked and acted on impulse and well—you know.” You wiped your hand down your face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

He nodded. “Right, so like any self-respecting woman, you kissed the first person you saw in a hallway. Logical.”

You let out a whine. “Well when you put it like that, probably not my best moment, nor my proudest.”

His eyes bore into you.

“It wasn’t my worst! She might actually believe I’m going out with you and then she wont hesitate to start dating Yuta and she’ll be happy.” You shook your head quickly. “I’m so sorry about the kiss.”

“Are you?”

“Yes. Please don’t get your lawyer on me.”

And then, like a wave it crushed you. It hit you all at once just the mass of what you had actually done. You actually kissed a stranger, who turned out to be the last person you could possibly want it to be. And now that same guy was starting at you, probably about to bust his ass laughing at your poor excuse for a love life. He face was all odd and pensive and it made you feel so small.

Shit.

Maybe you were running on minimal sleep. Maybe your last coffee had been far too long ago. Or maybe it was the way Satoru Gojo was looking at you but it was all too much.

“No no—actually you’re right, you should write a complaint about me. I am so so sorry if you felt like I was harassing you at any point you would be right to press charges. It was a horrible thing to do even though I really didn’t mean to. But my intentions don’t even matter I’m so sorry. It’s more your perception of the situation that matters anyway—“

Shit shit shit.

“Okay im going to go now.” You turned on your heel and began to run as fast as your legs would take you.

“Y/N.” You heard him call after you. “Y/N wait—”

You didn’t stop. You didn’t slow down you sprinted out of there and to your car.

You got back to your shared apartment with Megumi as fast as you could and slumped down on your bed. Only then did it dawn on you.

Gojo Satoru—known ass—had called you by your name.

Okay I know this is all over the place but just 😳🙏 okay?

Also I’m a Maki x Nobara shipper but for the sake of the story I had to do Yuta sorry guys😭🙏

TAGLIST(16/50): @bbmsxlene @lunavelha @satoryaa @tranzumaki @k-kkiana @luvkvni @lysaray @kalulakunundrum @arysbruv @r4veeen @stillnotherapy @catobsessedlady @colortheoryrocks @minzxec @dazqa @packsvlog

© valentoru all rights reserved- do not publish my work on other platforms, plagiarise or translate.

[nausicaamusiclover20]

Black album Jason having a massive crush on reader who is the lead guitarist of the opening act. The boys tease him about it and confesses to them.

This idea is so cuteeee, I hope you like it💕

Soundcheck crush

It’s another soundcheck, and I’m back on the sidelines, bass in hand, pretending to be preoccupied with the controls. But really? My focus is locked on her—Y/N, the lead guitarist of the opening band. She’s up there shredding through her solos, completely lost in her music, and I’m transfixed. Every time she closes her eyes, lips pursed in concentration, I swear I’m about to lose it.

I can’t even begin to explain what it is about her—maybe it’s the way she looks so effortlessly at home up there, the way she seems oblivious to anyone watching. There’s no denying it, though: I’ve got it bad, and it’s getting harder to hide.

And then, of course, James appears beside me with a smirk, arms crossed like he’s been waiting for me to slip. He’s grinning, eyes twinkling as he takes in the scene. “Checking out the opening act again, huh?” he teases, his tone loaded with barely disguised amusement.

I try to keep it cool, shrugging like I’m totally unbothered. “Just making sure the levels are good,” I say, though I can feel my face warming. “You know. Professional courtesy.”

“Oh, really?” Kirk joins us now, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “You’ve been awfully dedicated to this ‘professional courtesy’ all week. Especially when it comes to watching Y/N.”

Lars sidles up, crossing his arms with a smirk of his own. “Jason, man, you’re not fooling anyone. We all know you’ve been staring at her, like, every single day.”

They keep at it, nudging me and making side comments, and I’m about to come up with some excuse when Lars raises his eyebrow. “Admit it, dude. You’re crushing on her, right?”

I let out a sigh, feeling my face heat up even more. The guys know me too well, and the way they’re looking at me, I know there’s no point in denying it anymore. I groan and rub the back of my neck, finally letting it out.

“Alright, fine!” I say, laughing a little despite myself. “Yeah, I like her, okay? She’s… she’s incredible. Not just her playing—she’s got this presence, you know? Like, I can’t stop watching her. She’s just… different.”

There’s a beat of silence before the guys burst out laughing. But it’s not the mean, mocking kind; they’re just surprised, probably glad I finally cracked.

James slaps me on the back, grinning. There it is. Finally, some honesty from our man here. So what’s stopping you? Go talk to her. She’s not gonna bite your head off.”

I shake my head, still embarrassed but relieved to have gotten it out there. “I don’t know, man. It’s… not that easy. What am I supposed to say? ‘Hey, I’ve been secretly watching you every night’? That’s just… weird.”

Kirk chimes in with a laugh. “Or, you know, you could just tell her you like her playing. Give her a compliment, say something. Anything would be better than staring her down from across the stage.”

I laugh and roll my eyes, but I know they’re right. The truth is, every time I get anywhere near her, my brain just… short-circuits. It’s like I forget how to form sentences, and that’s if I’m lucky enough to remember my own name.

And then, of course, here comes the opening band, just wrapping up their soundcheck. Y/N’s leading the group, her guitar slung over her shoulder, her face still flushed from playing. When she sees me, her eyes light up, and she walks over, giving me this warm, friendly smile.

“Oh, hey, Jason!” she says, stopping in front of me. “Didn’t realize you’d be hanging around for our soundcheck again.”

I scramble for something smooth to say, but my brain decides to abandon me. “Uh… yeah! I mean… I’m, uh, a fan. Of… music. And your band. And… you.” As soon as the words are out, I know I sound like an idiot, but I can’t stop myself from turning red.

She raises an eyebrow, laughing a little as if she’s trying to decode what I just said. “Well, thanks, I guess?” she says, chuckling. “Nice to know I’ve got Metallica’s bassist as a fan.”

“Totally,” I manage, forcing a smile. “I mean, you’re… really good. You’ve got an amazing sound and… you, especially, you’re just, uh…” I trail off, mentally kicking myself as I struggle to finish a coherent sentence.

She looks at me with a soft, amused smile, tilting her head slightly. “Thanks, Jason. That’s really nice of you.” She gives me a quick, friendly nudge on the shoulder, sending my heart racing. “Guess I’ll see you out there tommorow?”

“Yeah,” I managed, still dazed. “For sure.”

With one last smile, she heads off with her bandmates, and I’m left standing there, feeling like I just ran a marathon. As soon as she’s out of earshot, the guys completely lose it.

“Oh man, you nailed it!” Lars says, cracking up. “‘I’m a fan of… music. "So smooth,” he mimics, clutching his sides from laughing so hard.

“Seriously, Jason, I thought you were gonna pass out!” Kirk adds, wiping away a tear. “I’ve never seen you that red in my life.”

I let out a groan, rubbing my face. “Alright, alright, laugh it up. At least I actually said something this time.”

“Yeah, yeah, baby steps,” James says, grinning. “Maybe by the end of the tour, you’ll actually be able to have a full conversation with her.”

They keep poking fun, but it feels different this time. I’ve got this stupid grin on my face, and even though I stumbled through every word, there’s a part of me that’s just… happy. She talked to me, laughed with me, nudged my shoulder, and she didn’t seem to think I was too much of a mess. 

For now, that’s more than enough. But next time? I might just take a real step forward.

[patchiko]

comic!jason todd x m!indie rock singer/guitarist reader

cold weather - glass beach

1:08 ──⚬──── 2:18

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🪐⁠☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ warnings ; sfw (none)

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🪐⁠☆ﾟ⁠.⁠*⁠･⁠｡ﾟ contents ; hc’s totally not based off glass beach lyrics haha thats so cheesy whaat lololo…

I love the way you make me feel when I’m staring at my screen.

At 4AM, trying not to fall asleep

And you hit me up just to see if I’m OK

JASON TODD CODED SOOO BAAADD

literally how the crushes form for both sides

jason has like an inner psyche where he just fuckin knows when youre awake

if you ask him he’ll probably say something stupid like ‘i can hear your (guitar)/(voice)’ and he’s nowhere around you

and his heart throbs whenever you two stay texting for waayy tooooo loonggg, starts cheesing and shit

NEERRRDD

average jason todd text

When I keep you up sending Mamegoma Lines

You know it's shit like that that makes me wanna be alive

JASON TODD CODED LINE. CANON CANON.

he responds through his helmet while he’s kicking ass

it gets so common to a point where he ends up having a full blown convo w/ you using those stupid fuckin stickers

bug him late at night !!

he’ll tell you to gts but he’d be lying if he says it doesn’t make his heart melt when u send him these little fucks.

So I'll call in sick again just to spend the day with you

100% he’ll call a day off to hang with you

whether its showing up to your show then hitting a bar, 100%,

i need jason todd in a relationship where he just drops everything for his s/o,

fuck the mission!! he wants to listen to those fucking vocals for an hour or you shredding ur guitar!!

he’s fucking around in an arcade with you till 11pm

hes a little ass at mario kart, better with motorcycle games,

BRING HIM TO ANY SHOOTER ONES WHERE U HOLD THE GUN AND UR GETTING WAAAASHHHEDD.

he has the most fun with the halo ones or the walking dead ones

weirdly good at the multiplayer pacman games

AMAZING AT GALAXIA ILL DIE ON THIS HILLL

Wanna say I think it's so gay that we really both feel the same way

That I feel like we're more than just friends

It took too long to realize

I didn't miss the cold weather, I just missed you

Jason was never homophobic and or totally against the idea of him being gay

i dont think he was ever in a gay relationship b4 you two

bc most of the vigilante guys he met were trying to fight him or absolute dick heads,

n’ most of the male figures in his life weren’t the absolute best.

so there wasn’t tooo much room for crushing on a guy too easily

if you’d ask him abt his sexuality its smthn like ‘i think im straight but i dunno what if im not.’

heres how i think it starts ;)

you’re preforming at a bar, n’ ofc jason todd can admit when a guys cute/attractive, any guy could do that

and maybe its ur guitar or your vocals but he cant stop watching (he convinces himself its your talent which is reasonably not gay)

maybe one coincidence leads to another and you two chat and go out at times, he pulls up to your shows more.

and the whole time he thinks he’s just acknowledging that your a very attractive person,

notthin crazy to admit ya homie has mad kisssble lips after starin at them for a sec too long. lol. haha. hm.

and i think the thought really hits him when he’s out of gotham for a mission. and he’s craving your presence

he texts you but you dont respond, fuck right you have a show and the timezone difference—

n he gets fuckin, ANTSY and SAD.

he tries to smoke a cig to fuck off

but he cant stop thinking about that one night where he brings you to his favorite rooftop view of the city,

how those sly stupid jokes slip from your mouth like honey,

the way you glance at him and the moonlight on your skin

how he got that random need to just lean into your lips

and— (GAY REALIZATION PANICC) <- link

'Cause I don't need the cold weather like I need you

And I don't need the sweater weather I just need you

Na na na na na na na

Na na na na na na na

Na na na na na na na

Fuck! Hahahaha

hes unlabeled your honor.

[linkedspirit-fanartfunart]

Look out its a Linkblr Dashboard Simulator!

3 notes

🪶 redwingskies Follow

So who was gonna tell me the Surface is Real, huh? Who.

🎶 ocarina-macarina Follow

Where are you from?? What....what are you??? ....God?

🪶 redwingskies Follow

Nah turns out she's my best friend though.

🪶 redwingskies Follow

Hey btw, If I kill a god does that make me one? Is there like. Rules for this? Asking for a friend. (Like seriously. I don't care. He does.)

1,680 notes

🚋 train-life Follow

Today's Fact: Did you know Trains are the reason New Hyrule has Standardized Time Zones? As citizens needed to know when to get to a train station, the council lobbied for standardized time that could be applied precisely for travel by train! The entire modern perception of time is because of the Train!

⌛️ forestchild Follow

Thanks, I hate it. Lets go back to living by the sun rise and set.

🌸 dont-look-at-me Follow

??? We've always had standard time zones??? What are you talking about. Trains didn't invent that.

🚋 train-life Follow

...they literally did. I re-researched this to double check. What are YOU talking about?

🌸 dont-look-at-me Follow

Time zones? Like. The era of Legend, the Golden era, bullfish like that?

🚋 train-life Follow

... you can swear you know? I'm 12 not a baby.

🌊 kingoftheseagull Follow

you're HOW OLD? I thought you were a Royal Engineer???

🚋 train-life Follow

12? It's in my bio?

🌊 kingoftheseagull Follow

I love you but get the hell off of this website why are you here

🌟 excuuuse-me Follow

Can we go back to the weirdo who thinks Time Zones are HISTORICAL PERIODS?

🌸 dont-look-at-me Follow

Haha yea total weirdo, what, are they like 400 years old or something? Lol

🐴 goatman4life Follow

Actually I wanna get back to why a 12 year old has a job

1,203 notes

🐟 indigo-gos-official Follow

Hey anybody willing to lend me bail money? I'm short like 10 rupees and it's really annoying.

⌛️ forestchild Follow

Wait shit wrong account! Wrong account!!

🐴 goatman4life Follow

Why do you have access to a hyper-famous Zora Band's account??

⌛️ forestchild Follow

Their lead guitarist died in front of me and I am very nice. Now get me out of jail goatman.

23,045 notes

🌳 wildflowerwastaken Follow

.

#hi #i saw a cool bird today #the camera was left on selfie mode so it only got a picture of me squinting at it #the bird noticed the flash and it pecked me until I fell out of the tree #straight into a malice puddle #the bird was pretty tho #so I say my day went great!

2 notes

🌟 excuuuse-me Follow

Hey apparently I need to update people on my boundaries. So. Here is a list of what's okay:

Hugging

Kissing me

Kissing me directly on the lips

👀

Parasocial relationships where you praise me constantly <3

And this is NOT okay

Hunting me for my blood to revive the prince of darkness

Ignoring me

Thank you, that's really all, I'm kinda sad that this has to be said but clarity is wisdom and all.

👑 princess-of-hyrule Follow

Link. This is not what I told you to post.

🌟 excuuuse-me Follow

Well EXUSe ME if my boundaries look different than yours!!

25,690 notes

⚒️ smol-smithy Follow

Hey pulled the Four Sword again so we need help figuring out who gets to run the blog lol.

Thanks everybody

⏳️ forestchild Follow

Lol this loser doesn't know how to make sideblogs

🎶 ocarina-macarina Follow

The poll says "Who gets to be Link on MAIN" though, so maybe they do? They just wanna have one person in charge of the first blog?

⏳️ forestchild Follow

The path to truth is unity. Many voices can be heard within one "main".

-The Diety

⏳️ forestchild Follow

...ignore him, I've made him a sideblog and he refuses to use it.

⚒️ smol-smithy Follow

Hey wait no let him come back, he's the only smart person I've ever heard

-Green (?)

⚒️ smol-smithy Follow

I am going to kill you.

#we have all agreed to not utilize this blog until the poll is complete #so shut up green

10 notes