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belokhvostikova · 9 months

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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

#stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #perv!eddie #perv!eddie munson

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captainofthetidesbreath · 1 year

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Colin's build isn't as flashy as some of the others in the party, but he does have one that is interesting to me in terms of mechanical character. Just to take stock what he's working with first:

16 (+3) Constitution, highest in the party. Mathematically, i.e. on paper since we don't know actual hit points at this time, he easily paces with Delissandro on hit points.

16 (+3) Strength and 17 (+3) Dexterity, second highest in the party. His longsword uses Strength, and his dagger uses Dexterity (because it's higher).

15 (+2) Intelligence, second highest in the party as Karna, Raphaniel, and Amangeaux all tie for first with 16 (+3).

AC 17, second highest in the party. Very respectable AC for this level.

Rogue 2. Because rogue is listed first on his card, I presume he is a base rogue; this is notable because it grants him four starting skills (as opposed to two plus one from a rogue multiclass) and proficiency in Dexterity saves. He has Expertise in Insight, as he made a check that was natural 4 but 11 total. Rogue 2 also means Cunning Action.

Fighter 3. Fighting Style (which could be interesting depending on what his choice is), Second Wind, and one use of Action Surge.

Battle Master. He knows three maneuvers.

Feat: Mobile. Brings his speed up to 40 feet, and difficult terrain does not reduce it while he is dashing. Combined with Cunning Action, he can run 120 feet with a double dash: greater than the next fastest Amangeaux (30 base, 90 at double dash) and twice the speed of the rest the party at their greatest full dash (assuming no items modifying speed are in the mix). Mobile also allows him to neutralize attacks of opportunity: someone he makes a melee attack against, hit or miss, they cannot make an attack of opportunity against him for the rest of the turn.

Colin has a very physical stats forward build, in that Colin's best stats are all physical and all are at least +3, moreso than even Delissandro who has a higher Charisma than Constitution and Dexterity. (You can check all the stat cards from the first episode here.) The combination of Cunning Action and Mobile makes him incredibly difficult to pin down or corner and moves very fast with an ability to close on a target. A respectable AC and proficiency in Dexterity saves also makes him pretty dodgy at this level, and a good Constitution makes him hardy; he is a tank.

I find his build very interesting because it tells a story of someone who is very comfortable on the battlefield and is used to combat scenarios. It corroborates what he tells Delissandro ("Any other battle advice or anything you want from me, 'cause that's kinda my gear.") and is in line with him planning combat strategies when anxious or uncomfortable. An individual player can always take or leave the flavor of a subclass, but the narrative of the Battle Master leans heavily on someone who has been trained in military arts or has learned very well through experience in the field.

Base rogue with the Mobile feat very much tells a story. His respectable Intelligence paired with Battle Master does too. Altogether, his mechanics communicate to me that he is well suited to his job as a sellsword, and he is one of skill and experience.

A lot of this can also be augmented by class choices, particularly Maneuver Choices. I won't speculate too much on choices because there's so many good ones, but Evasive Footwork, Ambush, Bait and Switch, Disarming Attack, Riposte, Quick Toss would add to this sense of someone who is difficult to pin down, moves easily through combat, and has a good grasp of the rhythm of battle.

Colin's entire set of mechanics together give me personally a sense of someone who is very much a survivor and of someone who knows how to move through combat, both in the intellectual skill to calculate and the physical skill to execute.

#sorry his mechanics are just very very interesting #watch me have to rewrite this in like an hour bc the second episode drops in twenty minutes #Colin Provolone #The Ravening War #Dimension 20 #d20 things #trw meta #trw things

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callsignmarz · 4 months

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‼️MDNI‼️ - Keegan P. Russ x Y/N | Fem

“Claim Me.”

"Just grow a pair and go talk to him." Keegan insisted, slamming the door to a humvee, clearly checked out from the conversation.

"That's not how nature works, Keegan." You riposted, turning your attention back to Logan, who was currently across the motor pool, chatting to a few other soldiers.

It was no secret that you had a little crush on Logan Walker.

Whenever he was in the area, you felt like a teenager again with her first school crush. Just the sight of him made your cheeks flush a light shade of pink and your knees ready to buckle. And If Keegan had to sit and listen to how fine of a man Logan was one more time, he swore to himself that he will end it all, right then and there.

"Besides, I'd rather just...you know, let things...happen..? Yeah. Let's just go with that."

Keegan raises an eyebrow, shaking his head, unconvinced by your sad attempted claim.

Letting out an exasperated sigh, Keegan makes his way over to the mobile toolbox that you've been leaning on for the past half hour — instead of helping him like he asked you in the first place.

Sensing you needed a little help in the love department, out of the kindness of his cold grinch heart, he gives you some words of advice.

"Standing on the sidelines isn't going to get you far, y/n. A man likes it when a woman takes charge. It's hot as fuck, actually." Keegan galled, giving you a friendly wink. He obnoxiously clicks a pen that he had tucked behind his ear and retrieves the clipboard next to your elbow, scribbling down the required maintenance notes.

He had a point though.

But you would never admit that, especially with how vulgar he put it.

So, you just roll your eyes in protest. "Is that so? Then tell me this. Since when did you become such a 'Love Guru?' Last time I checked, you still had trouble finding yourself a girlfriend." You implored the 'notorious' ladies man.

He hands you the clipboard and you promptly grab ahold of it. You watch him lift up the hood of the truck with one arm as if it weighed nothing.

Why did anything he did always had to be so..?

"That's where you're wrong, Sweetheart. I'm not looking for a girlfriend. Just looking for a good time." He chuckles dryly.

"You're vile." Your face contorts in disgust, but he just shrugs off your jab.

"I've been called worst, Sweetheart."

The sound of a boot scuffling against the gravel, pulls your attention away for a moment and your heart flutters when you realize Logan was standing a few feet beside you.

Okay. Act normal, Y/N...what the fuck is normal!?

"What's up, kid?" Keegan greets cooly, snapping you out of your head.

Tearing himself away from the vehicle, Keegan and Logan clasps their hands together, briefly pulling each other in, bumping shoulders before releasing one another.

"Let me guess, causing trouble?" Keegan quipped as he folded his arms across his chest.

Logan gives a friendly smile, his voice came out a smooth baritone, "Always." He flicks his gaze to you, with eyes now wide and mouth agape with incredulity.

"Who's your friend, Russ?" Logan asks as he gives you a once-over look, intrigued and wondering why he hasn't seen you before.

"This is y/n. She more of a thorn in my ass than a friend." Keegan half-jokingly introduces while giving you a look that says 'Now's your chance.'

Clearing your throat of all the cobwebs that formed within the few minutes, you extend your right hand as you give him a quick run down, "Sergeant Y/N L/N, PCS'd from Fort Wainwright about a month or two ago." Logan listens intently, taking ahold your hand with a firm grip and a surge electricity to shoots through your body.

"Pleasure to meet you, Sarge. Alaska must've been one hell of an experience." He mused with his dark caramel eyes locked in on yours. Slowly, Logan lets go of your hand, but purposely allows his touch to linger.

"I'm surprised you didn't go AWOL." He chorkles.

Slightly shrugging your shoulder and batting your lashes, you pick up on his subtle cues.

"There were days where I was tempted to, but I'm pretty good at being on the straight and narrow." You say coy-like with a smile that matched your tone.

"Good, good. But, hey! I actually have to get going, but uh...You should stop by later tonight and we can finish up this conversation. What do you say?" Logan asks with a quizzical smile, his teeth were pearly white and straight, just the way you like them.

Your mouth gaps open slightly, surprised by how fast everything was moving. You almost pinch yourself to make sure you weren't in a dream but the look from Keegan was an obvious indication this was no dream. Far from, actually.

"Uh, y-yeah. I don't mind." You finally answered.

"Cool...See you then, y/n."

With that, Logan walks off with your eyes following him until he's no longer in sight. You then whip around, almost tripping over your own feet, turning to Keegan and exploding with screeches of excitement.

"Did that actually happen!?" You squeal, rushing over to vigorously shake Keegan's shoulder.

Swatting your hands away, Keegan keeps his eyes forward as he tick in his jaw serves as a seedling of jealously that grew and bloomed a vibrant sprig of green.

"Yes. Now can I get back to work?" He sneers in frustration, retreating his focus back to the engine of the truck.

⋆⁺₊⋆☾⋆⁺₊⋆

As painful as it was to your ego, you take Keegan's advice and with newfound determination eddied in your irises, you come up with an idea.

A man likes when a girl takes charge.

Keegan's voice resounds in your head. The heedful reminder causes your eyes to roll into the back of the your skull. Then your attention shifts back to your reflection. Surveying your outfit one last time as you twist and pose your body in the mirror making sure you were up to par.

Adjusting your black crop top so it flattered your boobs and the ripped up mom-jeans you wore were loose but they hugged you curves just enough to accentuate the roundness of your ass.

And underneath...a matching set of magenta laced lingerie.

There was no way you were not getting laid.

It was a quarter until midnight. The plan was you were going to sneak into Logan's room undetected and surprise him in his bed.

As crazy as it sounds — it was foolproof.

Like, what man wouldn't dream of a woman, as feral as you were, crawling into their bed in the middle of the night?

Right?

After applying the last layer of your clear lemon flavored lipgloss, you roll your plumped lips together followed by a loud suckered pop and you set out on your mission, making a swift exit out the door.

Approaching his quarters, you had to move quickly and quietly. You discreetly reach into your bra and redeemed a simple black bobby-pin.

Good ole reliable.

Throughout the years you've served in the military, you were taught a lot of different things. Tactical insertion being one of them. You knew how to breach any area. From battering rams to hacking security systems but, none that required something so mundane as a hair accessory.

While you expertly pick the lock, you kept your head on a swivel, making sure no one spots you committing this heinous act.

Once you hear the audible click, the corners of your mouth lifted into a confident smile.

Getting up to your feet, you casually make entry.

First thing you noticed was the overpowering smell of cedar wood. Coughing up a lung, you came to the conclusion that the air quality in here was 99.9 percent cologne and that last .1 being oxygen.

Getting past that, it was also rather dark.

Carefully waving your hand around, you try your best not to crash into anything. Eventually, you find yourself bumping into his bedpost, startling Logan out of his sleep and the same familiar baritone voice calls out in surprise, "What the fu—Y/n?"

"Wait! Shh...Just listen, please!" You say right away, hoping it'll calm him down.

"I know this is a bit crazy but just...listen. Okay? I've had a crush on you for a while now and I don't want to blend in with the other girls. So, I guess what I'm trying to say is," You swallow hard, your tone drops to barely a whisper, rolling your lips together as you crawled your way into his bed.

"Just let it happen."

In the dark, your lips find his, silencing any doubt or apprehension from leaving his mouth. A bolt of electricity shoots throughout your body, awakening the longing desire within you.

Not only was he surprised by your assertiveness but it came as a shock to you as well. Being an introvert, you wouldn't have guessed in a million years that you would've be the one to make the first move — all thanks to Keegan.

Logan's lips end up prying your lips apart, deepening the kiss with his tongue, ravishingly exploring your mouth and eliciting soft moans to muffle out as your mouth moves in sync with his.

His rough hands snake their way to your waist before hauling you over onto of him.

Your breath hitches when he breaks away from the kiss and his nose creeps up alongside your throat. Once he finds the most sensitive spot, his mouth latches onto your skin, nipping and sucking until little plum colored splotches decorate your neck.

The two of you wasted no time tearing the clothes off each other. The lingerie you wore for show, unfortunately went unnoticed as it was discarded just like the rest of your wardrobe.

You felt a firm grip on your left breast, before you were greeted by the warmth of his mouth. Not only did Logan have a pretty smile, but he knew what to do with it as his tongue swirled and his teeth gently gnawed on your erect nipple.

A symphony of orchestral moans filled the room.

The sexual connection and burning passion between you two was undeniable.

It was as if this moment was supposed to happen.

As if the two of you were meant to come together and become one.

A dream verging to come true.

Digging your nails into his back, you align him up against you seeping cunt, slowly slipping his swollen cock inside. A small whine of pleasure leaves your lips as you allow your slick walls to accommodate and adjust to his size.

"Ride me, beautiful." He rasped, his tone dripping with ascendancy and urgency.

Like flipping a switch, your back arches, rolling your hips and taking your time descending down only to spring back up when you couldn't fit any more of him.

His size was impeccable.

Your ex wasn't even close to the size and length that Logan held and from the one night stands you've had in the past, they could barely last two whole minutes.

You were in for one hell of a joy ride.

Logan's hand creeps its way from your navel, up and between your breasts to wrap around your throat accordingly.

Taking back control, he bucks his hips, crashing them underneath your thighs, barbarously driving himself deeper into your tight pussy. With your hands on his chest, you prop yourself to hover your ass over him as he kept his unwavering assault.

"Yes, yes, yes! God fuckin—Please don't stop." You whine breathlessly.

"Does the princess want to cum all over my cock?Mmm...such a needy little whore, you are..." He growls, his tone edging you closer to unraveling.

Your body felt as though God sent an angel down just to solemnly fulfill your sinful needs, relieving you of your last unholy act, right before your soul ascends to the heaven's gates.

Delirium intoxicates and overwhelms your senses, clenching your silky walls around his otherworldly cock, urging him to spill his load inside.

"Keep it coming and drown my cock. Fuck...I'm about to cum...Say my name, baby." He grits through his teeth, his thrust becoming more erratic by the second.

As your moans grow louder, your body quivers, riding the wave of your own insatiable orgasm.

"Oh God, Yes! Logan!" You screamed his name.

Your lips collided with his own as he lets out a deep groan. The heat of his load erupts and pulsated deep inside of you, filling you up to the brim. You slide off of him, allowing the contents to pour out of you. The two of you pant and gasp for air, coming down from the euphoric high of your releases while your bodies entangled together.

If you had to be honest, he was more than good, probably the best sex you've ever had.

Silence fills the void with the lingering scent of sex in the air.

Without saying a word, Logan sits up, detangling from your arms and walks out of the room then returns with a towel in hand.

Your eyes strain trying to make out his features as an unsettling tension builds between you two.

"Lo—" You say faintly, making an effort to comfort him.

However he sharply cuts you off, "Lemme stop you right there." His tone dripping with grimness.

Your face twists, utterly confused, watching his dark silhouette walk over to a drawer, pulling out a pair of sweats to slip in.

"I was bound to break it to you one way or another." He says sardonically, scuffling his way across the room, flicking on the light and blurring your vision temporarily until it steadily returns to adjust to your surroundings.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Sweetheart. But unfortunately I'm not your knight and shining armor." He says with a disdained sniff.

Your mouth flops open, struggling to form any sentence, but ultimately one phrase rolls off your tongue.

"What the fuck..."

The .1 percent of oxygen left in the air was sucked out the room completely, leaving you to suffocate on the distressed revelation.

The love story you'd hope for came crashing down hard. Once again, he was right about one thing...

He was no Prince Charming.

He was Keegan motherfucking Russ..

#call of duty fanfic #call of duty #call of duty imagine #keegan p russ #cod mw2 #keegan russ x reader #keegan x reader #cod keegan #keegan russ smut #keegan russ x you #keegan cod #mw2 imagine #fanfic #Spotify

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cherrychilli · 6 months

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18+

Mean! Steve x AFAB reader, sub! reader

Oral cockwarming, oral sex(m), roleplay, degradation, humiliation, Steve takes pictures of reader in a compromising position (everything's consensual)

That almost unobservable, yet entirely present smile remained on his lips while you were forced to wait, as patient as you could stand to be until he decided it was time to give you some attention again.

“Y' doing alright, babe?”, Steve reached down to lightly grazed a thumb along your cheek, voice sweet and touch tender but it's all faux concern, made obvious by the way his eyes flash with cruel glee.

At any other time you would have said something; called out his mock sincerity with a scoff and thrown in a quick riposte but you couldn't.

Not with his cock resting on your tongue.

Hours of your day had been spent wrestling with thoughts of Steve as you failed to distract yourself with housework and errands; wanting him, growing more pliant and willing in the absence of his touch. But there's a particular side of Steve that you're craving tonight - a temporary departure from his usually soft and caring treatment of you.

He senses your mood when he returns home, finding you in the hallway with your hands restlessly picking at the hem of your dress, pulling your now slightly swollen bottom lip from between your teeth to offer him a sweet smile at his return.

The exchange you have following him kissing you hello is brief, your quiet but mounting impatience giving way for you to voice the request that'd been weighing heavy on your tongue all day.

"Stevie?"

One of his broad hands smoothed down the back of your hair, chin resting on the top of your head while your arms tightened around his waist.

"Yeah baby?"

"Want you to be mean again", you murmur into the front of his shirt, just loud enough for him to hear even with your face buried in his chest, shying away from his gaze.

It always brought a smirk to his face when you got like this, all bashful and needy.

"You sure?"

You nod in answer, the hair on the top of your head tickling his chin from the movement.

"Anything for you, sweet girl", and he pulls back to kiss you on the forehead, fingers lacing with yours to lead you further into the house.

You follow him into the kitchen from there, his back turned to you, watching him pluck a beer from out of the fridge and take seat at the the little table where you shared all your meals together, often with his toes playfully nudging yours underneath because he couldn't go very long without touching you in some kind of way.

But that side of of Steve wont be making an appearance for the rest of the night, this confirmed when he turns to you again, his face completely absent of all the warmth and consideration he'd shown you when he first arrived home.

Exactly what you'd been waiting and aching for.

The kitchen curtains haven't been drawn yet, an obsidian sky coloring the paned glass of your window as a creeping tingle of excitement worked its way through your body when you caught his eyes flicking to it and back.

You know where this is going.

He pulls back the tab on top of the can until the aluminium cracks open, alcohol fizzing and white foam frothing up through the opening when he asks you to strip, equal parts casual and cocky about it.

That tingle intensifies and you let it wind its way through the spaces between your ribs, ascending to settle in your throat, the thought of a neighbor noticing the light still on in your home and peeking in forming a lump you struggle to swallow.

The heady mix of clawing nerves and perverse exhilaration make you pause, yet to comply with what he's asked you to do while you side eye the window in search of any passersby. But Steve didn't like to be kept waiting at times like this, showing his impatience by tapping his foot against the tiled floor, the rhythm matching the steady ticking of your wall clock, redirecting your attention to it next.

Nearly 1AM.

Your shoulders relax after taking note of the time, telling yourself it would be alright. That no one else would be up at this hour, all of your neighbors likely deep in sleep and will awake tomorrow completely unaware of what you and your boyfriend were getting up to next door. At least you hoped so for the sake of avoiding any awkward run ins in the morning.

But you've made up your mind now, desire overtaking your concerns. Steve watches closely as you pull at the thin straps resting on your shoulders, dress coming loose off your frame and fluttering to the floor. He's pleased to see that you're not wearing any underwear, completely nude for him as he holds the rim of the chilled can up to his lips, eyes never leaving your body while he sips on the sour alcohol.

“On your knees, sweetheart. Hands behind your back”, he instructed when he set the can down on the table, and though he says it calmly, you recognize it as the command that it is.

There's no more stalling when you drop down to oblige. Sinking into position feels natural to you at this point, hands set behind your back with your palms cupping your elbows, chest pushed out and weight supported on your knees.

You liked being obedient for Steve, seeing that glimmer of approval in his eyes, being told how good you were being for him but having waited all day, you can't help but weaken to an urge that has you acting before he's given you permission to do so.

Leaning in between his spread legs, your soft lips brush the outline of his hard cock over his tight denim jeans, tilting your head to the side so that your cheek rubs against the bulge with uncurbed yearning.

Any sense of shame had been shed entirely now and thankfully, Steve doesn't take issue with you giving into your impulse, showing leniency while you nuzzle into him like a cat in heat. He groans approvingly in tandem with your sultry, longing sigh, hand caressing your hair again when you peek up through your lashes to look at him.

“Y’ really missed me, huh baby?”, he coos, entirely taken with how amorous you look between his legs, a space meant only for you.

You nod, tongue slipping out between your lips to lave unabashedly along the girth of his clothed erection.

"Shit- bet you want a reward huh? something for waiting all day?", he prompts, hissing quietly at the way your spit saturates the denim, sloppy stains darkening his jeans.

The mention of a reward had you perking up, more than eager for what you think he has in store for you.

But you're quickly reminded that you're dealing with the callous side of Steve tonight, the crude part of him that took pleasure in making you earn your satisfaction.

He made it clear that you weren’t to suck to his cock yet when he undid the button on his jeans, pulling the zipper down much slower than you would have liked before he lowered them enough to pull the turgid length free.

“Open”, he grunts curtly, holding it by the base, tapping the sticky, flushed head against your lips and you obey eagerly, parting them to grant him entry into your waiting mouth.

“Now stick your tongue out”, he orders next.

You do so and he rests his cock on your warm, wet tongue, letting his precum pool on it so that he's all you can taste, that sticky salt you wished to lap at and swallow.

“Now be a good girl for me and maybe, I’ll let you suck it”

That's when you wilt under his gaze, stomach dropping at the possibility of being denied, a very real possibility if he was feeling extra mean, but you prove yourself determined to please him.

It’s been a little over ten minutes now and your bottom lip and chin are coated in a tacky layer of saliva and precum, the viscous combination narrowing into a thin trail that drips down along the column of your throat and makes its way between the valley of your breasts, doing little to cool your burning skin.

The ache in your jaw is equal to the one that pains your poor knees, nothing soft slipped underneath to cushion them like he usually did to relieve you.

Steve's cock lays heavy on your tongue and you resist the urge to swirl the muscle over his ruddy tip, longing to lick at the translucent beads that spill plenty from his weeping slit, desperate to be allowed to wrap your sore lips around it and really savor the taste of him.

Instead, you're tasked to remain still, treated like an afterthought while Steve sits unbothered in his chair. He'd kept himself occupied with a second beer and his phone, scrolling through the contents while you fight against the whine trying to claw its way out of your throat.

How much longer?, you'd been wondering that for what felt like hours now, thighs hot and quivering, sweat beading on your back.

For a moment, you think your patience might be rewarded when he meets your eyes, finally looking at you again but that spark of hope dulls in your belly when you see his thumb swipe over his screen, realizing he's angling the camera at you.

“So fucking pretty. I think I’ll have to make it my wallpaper”

The shutter sound clicks several times and echoes within the kitchen walls, picture after lurid picture filling up his gallery.

You nearly choke at the sight of the obscene pictures he’s taken when he turns the screen towards you, barely recognizing yourself in them but all it does is make your stomach flare with so much more heat and want for the man responsible for your current state.

“Jesus, look at the mess you’ve made. You’re gonna have to clean all of that up, honey”

Still reeling from the humiliation, you're certain he's referring to your saliva puddling on the floor, that is until you feel him stretch his right leg out, carefully positioning his foot between your thighs, lightly tapping his shoe against your neglected cunt.

It's the only real stimulation you've been granted since this all started, hips jerking and a pitiful, garbled whine spilling out of your throat when your throbbing clit catches on the tip of his shoe.

"Shit it's all over the floor. Wanna see?"

He pulls back his foot to take another picture, this one making you feel more vulnerable than the last given the placement.

"Look at that", he turns the screen towards you again, grin impossibly wide.

You stare at the picture of your bare pussy helplessly, stunned by the amount of slick pouring down your thighs, stringing into a little puddle on the floor.

"Just letting it all go to waste", Steve tsked, shaking his head like it was real shame.

"Can't have that. Start sucking, darling"

The words you've been aching to hear finally come and it's like the floodgates have been opened.

He chuckles darkly when your eyes light up, lips wrapping around his cock like you'd been starved of it, tongue delving, mapping each and every pulsing vein you could find, head bobbing to fill your throat with him.

"I'm feeling generous today" he adds while you work him sloppily, reaching down to fondle your breasts, pulling and pinching at your perky nipples until you whine around him.

"When I'm done I want you to get on the table. I'm going to take my time tasting you, sweet girl"

Maybe he wasn't going to be so mean tonight after all.

#steve harrington smut #stranger things smut #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader

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duckchu · 7 months

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I love Heartsteel Kayn I want to eat him

Heartsteel Kayn x reader, late Halloween and birthday special since I had no time earlier

He looks so kldgkqvmqtmvt here

He couldn't believe he agreed to it. I mean, he wore a collar already, but how could he agree to this?! And at his own birthdayween party. NOW HE'S EVEN ADAPTING EZREAL'S STUPID WORD FUSIONS WHAT'S GOING ON. He looked at you, fixing up your witch hat. The only good thing about agreeing on the matching "witch and her black cat" costume was seeing you in this beautiful tight dress. He couldn't wait till the party was over and he could rip it off of you...

Was it bad he wanted the part to end already? It didn't even begin, but he wanted you so bad...But this one time he decided to not listen to himself and go. Holding hands, you both went to the club. The gesture made him feel so giddy, your soft and warm skin against his. It made him feel so...good. As you two entered the club where the party was being held, he was approached by the rest of the band and lost you in the crowd as you went to socialise with some of your mutual friends. He wanted to go to you, but his band kept him busy with talks and drinks. He was surprised that they all dressed up, even Yone, which he always thought was so stuck up that he wouldn't do it. But there he was, in a black cape and false fangs hanging from his real teeth. He thought he looked funny, even commenting on it, but being riposted by making fun of his cat ear headband. Then you finally walked up to them, giving him a kiss on the cheek and saying hi to the other men. He put his hand around your hip, enjoying how the other guys looked at you, surprised how he managed to pull a person like you. While they did catch a glimpse at you when you entered, they couldn't really see you well. You sat down next to Kayn and picked up his glass, drinking the rest of the drink from it.

Finally, the party came to an end. Kayn could finally get you home and get that tight dress off of you. He had to really stop himself from dragging you to the club bathroom and fucking you there, but you were always so busy talking to someone...now you were all his.

The best birthday present he could receive.

#heartsteel kayn #kayn #kayn x reader #shieda kayn #shieda kayn x reader #league of legends #heartsteel #league of legends x reader #heartsteel x reader #lol #lol x reader #heartsteel kayn x reader #Kayn birthday weee

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morallyinept · 9 months

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Pedro Boys - Dom, Sub or Switch? 🤔

Another day, another Pedro Boys ramble.

☝🏻I'll mark this NSFW 🔞 as it gets a bit spicy with the boys dirty talking...

I apologise now for my terrible Spanglish. And the length of this ramble. 🫠 Sorrynotsorry.

Enjoy! 🖤

Joel Miller - Sub

Okay. Keep your green flannel shirt on and hear me out. Joel's out here saving your clumsy ass on the fucking daily. Watching your back, making sure you don't eat the poisonous berries n' shit out a Buick later. Nuh darlin'. They ain't good for ya. But twenty year-old canned Chef Boyardee? Now we're talkin'. He's ensuring you don't get munched on by walking Goombas. Get the fuck down! Stay quiet! I mean, this greying geezer is the epitome of dom swagger, right? The Protector? It's the broad shoulders and creaky knees that make your days old, yeasty panties (because let's face it, the apocalypse ain't pretty, babe) moist as hell for that surly old man. But, what if Joel exudes so much energy keeping you alive and not being fungi-bait, that when it comes down to getting jiggy wid' it after what feels like an exhausting monotonous lifetime, he just wants you to take the reins so he doesn't have to think about it? Hmm?? Yeah? Naaaah. Fuck that. Joel Miller is a motherfucking dom who will always fuck your shit up, dick you the hell down, and leave you a quivering, soaked mess, no matter how bad them knees get traisping and wheezing up five thousand flights of stairs at the ripe ol' age of 56. Give him a few minutes to recuperate and then he'll be on you like hornets on a sticky toffee. Ain't gon' suck itself, darlin'. Open. Good girl. Eyes on me. Take it deep. More… like that. Yeah. So good for me, ain't ya? Can ya breathe? Then ya ain't doin' it right. Did I say stop? Put it back in your fuckin' mouth.

Joel Miller - Sub ☝🏻DOM

Francisco Morales - Switch

Frankie loves to pull the ol' switcheroo on ya, hermosa. The man is rabid, foaming feral one minute, yanking you about as he pounds you from behind with your wrists held together at the base of your back. Take my fucking cock. Yeah that's it… Cum all over this cock. Go on. Fuuuck! And then the next he's on his knees pleading for you to just touch his leaking dick as he makes a mess all over the polished hardwood floor, whining and pouting like a little boy who just dropped his ice-cream. Please, baby. Touch it. I-I need you. Fuck. Please let me have it. Por favor hermosa, lo necesito tanto! Please! PLEASE!

The cap stays on either way.

Ezra - Switch

Although a switch, Ezra will tend to lean more towards submissiveness. Mostly because he loves nothing more than watching you take the initiative, Birdie. Enamoured by strong heroine-types with fluttery eyes, who can expertly handle his thrower, this rambling man is soon silenced to mush when you put your finger to his lips and push him down on the dirty bunk straddling him and sliding down that thick, oozy appendage. But when Ezra goes dom, he goes dark. You think you know pleasure, that you know the scaffold of pain? Oh, little bird. Your knowledge lacks bounty. But in this moment right here? I'm afraid for both of our sakes, I must riposte. Dark and depraved, oh Kevva you won't believe the levels of depravity this Southern outlaw will stoop to when he goes prospecting deep in your pussy.

Dieter Bravo - Sub

Dieter is a sub, mostly through lazy convenience; a side effect from all the dope. The man simply doesn't have the energy to peel himself from his bed, the floor, the tea party on the ceiling, to whip out the cuffs and chains for kinky shenanigans. He'll make you do all the work as he tops from the bottom lying back on the pillow, a fat blunt on the go and telling you exactly what he likes and feels through red, droopy eyes. Lick my balls, baby. Ohh-hoo, like that. Mmmmyeeeaah. Fuck, I'm so excited... No, really I am. No, I'm not falling asleep... I swear.

*Imminent snoring and drooling.*

Agent Whiskey - Dom

This cowboy dandy has an accoutrement of lassos and whips, do you really think Jack is a sub? C'mon now, sugar, you know better than that. Jack's favourite rope trick is tying you up and watching you squirm against him as he brushes that fuzzy caterpillar against your ear and whispers all the filthy, un-gentlemanly things that this denim clad lonestar is going to do to you. Christ, you look so fuckin' good all tied up n' helpless like this. You listening good, sunshine? Cuz ol' Jack's gonna make this a rodeo you won't forget any time soon. Hoo mama! Now then, you remember your colours, sugar? Good. You might be needing em'. I'll make sure of that. I promise.

Manners maketh the man, afterall.

Javier Peña - Dom

Pleasure dom Javier is all about the, uh, pleasure. This crafty agent doesn't need any whips, chains or paddles, ohhh no. He takes his sweet, sweet time in annihilating you, breaking your back from all that damn arching you'll do. Drawing out every fibre of your orgasms into his waiting, moustached-mouth, then'll continue to stimulate you further, even when it's too much to bear that you hiss like a rattlesnake at him. But he's relentless. He's smothering. This Loredo lothario's smirking at you through a smoke filled pout as you writhe and moan for more of this sassy man-slut with the resting bitch face and tight ass jeans. Always wanting more, cariño. Qué codicioso, cariño. Me dices que quieres que pare, pero ambos sabemos que quieres más…

No, that's not Javier instructing you how to parallel park. That would be: Ahora, ponga la marcha atrás y gire la rueda hasta bloquearla. Ahí lo tienes, tranquilo. Cuidado con la acera. ¡Míralo! - Either way, it still sounds sexy AF, right? And that hijo de puta knows it.

Oberyn Martell - Switch

Purveyor and indulger of endless sumptuous delights, it makes sense for Oberyn to be a switch because that man likes to have all the fruit and nuts he can cram into his eager mouth. And the man likes his nuts. He exudes gentle dominance with subtle dance-like movements; fingers pushing against your clavicle, eyes roaming over your sweat sheened body, and teeth pulling at your flesh as he tastes the honey you pour freely into his mouth. Oberyn can own you with a simple crook of his lips. The sub side of him is slack, cool and relaxed as you climb on top, conquering that mountain, and pin his wrists above his head as he eyes you back with subtle, yet proud, mirth. Tell me, does this seat make you feel powerful over your Prince, hmm? Good. Worship me. I promise to do the same in return when you've had your fill of me, sweet one. But be cautious, for we will do it my way. And I will hold nothing back as I fuck my bastards into you.

Marcus Pike - Sub

Mr Pike just wants to please. He's a people pleaser. A yes man. An avid pleaser in the bedroom too. Please, Mistress. Can I have some more? All the pleases with whistles and bells on. Despite being an FBI agent and catching the bad guys, there isn't a mean, dominant bone in this gentle man's body. He's a sickly-sweet sweetie pie. He loves you, getting hard on your happiness, and will do anything for you. And I mean a-ny-thang. You want to put that in my… in my a-ass? Okay, I'll try it. Go slow, please… oh fuck. Oh fuck. Yeah! Yes Mistress. Damn that feels soooo good! Oh please, more. I want more. Don't stop. Mmmm! I'm so close already! Can I please cum, Mistress?

See? Told you. Anything.

Dave York - Dom

Like you're surprised. This man's name should have been Dom-as-fuck York, am I right? And you just know that Dave is a darkest-always-before-the-dawn dom. Sleek and pre-ordained. Cool and collected as he presses the duct tape down over your lips and checks the cuffs are tightly cutting into your wrists. Dave's inner sadist delights in your discomfort, revels in your pain, babe. Loves to see the water bead in your eyes; your mascara tears making his cock harder still. He grips you by the chin as your muffled breaths hiss out from under the tape. Look at me when I fuck you. You're such a little whore for me, hmm? Parading yourself in front of my wife. Well, now you know what happens when you act like a slut. Don't you? You won't be making that mistake again, will you? If you do, you know what'll happen. And I won't be this gentle next time. No. Next time I'll make you bleed. Don't you even fucking dare think about cumming right now. Sluts don't get to cum. You're just a hole for me to use, baby. Whenever I want...

Dave's the dark, twisted asshole of your masochist candyland dreams. You still keep going back for more though, despite his threats. I mean, you would, wouldn't you?

Pero Tovar - Sub

As much as Pero likes to convince himself that he's a man in charge, can take on a sly task and see it through without ending up in the stocks, that misguided front soon crumbles as soon as you present either food or your pussy at him. If you offer both at the same time, there is a very good chance you'll see his brain sluice out of his ears and plop in flumpy mounds around his feet. Pero won't be able to articulate anything to you in comprehensible language amidst the jangled bear growls that'll collide against his teeth. Girl, you just gon' fucked up that Spainard. Now, feed the hungry bear before he mauls you. Rawr.

Din Djarin - Dom

The metal man cometh. Or, at least he'll be making you, especially around that thick, hard Mandalorian helmet of his. And we ain't talking Beskar steel, if you catch my drift… This Space Daddy Dom knows exactly how to make you fly, Mesh'la. He's had years of practice trawling the galaxy and endless amounts of alone time whilst The Kid is tucked away in his pod, to hone his edging skills so that he lasts, keeping you on his cock for hours and hours until you lose your damn mind and all you see is nebulonic stars. Din doesn't say much, just lets the sounds of his grunts echo through the modulator into your rattled senses. When he eventually cums after having his fill of you, he only utters one groaned word in abject satisfaction: Wizard.

Marcus Moreno - Switch

Naturally there are two sides to Marcus Moreno - Super daddy hero by day, super daddy hero by night. Or both, it doesn't really matter the time. And this also extends into the world of bedroom pleasures as Marcus loves to be the good guy pleasing you and watching with doe eyes as you take what you want; what he'll so eagerly give you through soft hummed smooches and gentle, deep thrusts as you sit in his lap, swollen and full of him. But behind that heroic demeanour lies a villain in wait; itching to get out and play very, very dirty. He'll flip you forward onto your knees and leaning over you as he drives his hard, thick point home, will whisper into your ear you're mine. This pussy is mine. Say it. Tell me whose pussy this is, huh? That's it. That's right. All mine. You fucking know it, baby. Stop squirming, I'm going to fuck my pussy good and hard and you're going to take all of it. Scream for me, baby. I wanna hear you scream my name.

Max Phillips - Sub

Don't be fooled by this vampire's bite. The fuckboi leech is subdued by mere fucking sunlight for Christ's sake. So it's safe to say the moment you whip out your tits, cold and frosty Max Phillips will melt into a puddle of warm, bloody goop at your feet. Yes Sir! Max likes to act tough, to intimidate, to pop his fangs out and feast whenever he likes, but when it comes to your pussy, Max Phillips is, what is it the kids used to say? Ah yes, pwned. Max likes to think he'll bend you over and fuck you on his desk, but it'll be the other way round, trust me, sugartits. You gonna give it to me? Right here? Fuck yes, I want it! Bend over? Oh, okay. Oh, fuck yes… bite me, baby. Yeah. Yeah! Oh you're doing it like a champ! Harder baby, oh fuck yeah!

What a pussy little bloodsucker.

Silva - Sub

There's nothing I can say about Silva other than this handsome cowboy is utterly and irrevocably submissive for his lover. Gentle, slow and pained. Determined, unwavering and sincere in his devotion for the D, Silva's travelled miles across the sweltering country, being constantly chafed by his saddle, just to get some hunk o' lovin'. If that's not the definition of primal submission - or just plain idiocy, that chafe man, s'gotta be a mean one - then I don't know what is. Silva doesn't talk, he just whines, moans and falls apart from every pore as you top that peachy, pert bottom of his, before you pull out and cum all over it. Mmm, peaches n' cream. 🍑

Comandante Veracruz - Switch

Leaning more towards his dominant side, Veracruz pendulums his way into both territories freely, such is the will of a true Guerilla soldier. Of course, he loves nothing more than to wield control through menacing threats and shiny blades pressed against your throat, or thigh. Choking you as he pummels into you and foaming at the lips, licking the sweat from your face and whispering filthy things about your tight, drenched cunt and how it squeezes him so. He's loud. All his men can hear it around the jungle as he grunts and snarls and snorts whilst claiming you. Veracruz confidently wears the dom title like the grenades hanging from his tac vest; a pair of big balls swinging in the breeze. But watch that beast of a man squeak like a timid field mouse when you slide a finger into his tight, puckered hole - which if he were waterboarded, he would vehemently deny he enioys - and lose his shit as he nuts all over himself, only for him to beg that you do it again as you milk the Comandante of all of his aggression. More, querida. ¡Más adentro! No pares… Fuck! You're liking this, aren't you? Mmm. Just you wait… fuck… I'm going to fuck you up after - Shit! I mean it, cariño. Going to fuck your pretty ass like you're fucking mine right now. I will fucking destory that ass! Ohhhh… fuuuuuuck. You're so fucking dead, baby. Mmmm.

Maxwell Lord - Sub

Most people who are dominant in their day job are usually submissive in the bedroom, and Maxwell is no different. Shifting the power dynamic, Maxwell wants to forget the stress of trying to take over the world and falls to his knees as you stroke through those golden honey locks making him shudder. He's a whimpering, quivering mess as the word mommy slips from his lusty lips. Apt that he has mommy issues; men whose mothers love them don't try to annihilate the global population. So, mommy dearest just has to ensure that her good boy Maxwell behaves and flies straight. Please, Mommy. I'll be good for you. Please… Let me have it. Please. Yes. I'm your good boy. Thank you, oh thank you, Mommy. So good. Oh, I'm such a good boy! Mmm…

Javi Gutierrez - Subby AF

Silly old bear Javi G is the subbiest of the subs who have ever subbed. And that's saying something. Look up the words subby little baby in the dictionary and Javi's doofy grinning face is next to it. With those puppy dog eyes, and the fact he would literally jump off a cliff for you, Javi G gets so excited the minute you click your fingers and direct him to your playroom, that he's already cum in his tight, striped speedos on the journey there - twice. Eager for whatever creative punishment you wish to dole out, Javi always wants more until he's on his back sweaty, sore and strung out like he's on LSD. And let's face it, he probably is. That pussy is divine inspiration. Please, I want to experience it all. Will you give it to me and hold nothing back, yes? Yes!... Like that! Oh, dios mio, it's going to be so fucking gooood! Oh shit. Shiiiit! I just came. I know, we haven't started it yet. It's okay, we go again. Yes?

🖤

393 notes · View notes

pin-k-ink · 14 days

Text

glyph // terushima yuuji

tw ⇢ tattoo artist!yuuji, fingering, dirty talk, biting, marking, nipple play, unprotected sex, mild overstimulation, manhandling

wc ⇢ 4.9k

The doorbell chimed with a cheerful tinkle as you stepped into the cozy tattoo parlor. Despite having made this particular pilgrimage several times before, you still felt a ripple of anxious anticipation as you glanced around the warm, dimly lit space.

Behind a vintage wood-and-glass counter stationed just inside the entrance, stood the compact, heavily tattooed owner giving you a welcoming grin and a lazy two-fingered salute.

"Here for another bit of my world-class ink?" Came the familiar raspy tones, clearly modulated to broadcast over the steady thrum of nu-metal currently filling the studio.

You answered his jovial greeting with an easy grin of your own, sidling up to lean casually against the front counter's lacquered surface. "Damn straight. Though if it ends up being subpar work like last time, you're gonna have to give me a freebie make-good," you shot back with a wink.

Terushima scoffed loudly at the playful dig, rolling his eyes dramatically as he made a show of slinging his forearm across the countertop -- putting his own extensive body art brazenly on display in the process. Colorful renderings of traditional Japanese imagery swirled in mesmerizing patterns from wrist to collar, punctuated by crisp black line work and embellished with strategic flashes of vibrantly stylized shading.

"Listen smartass," he drawled without any real heat. "If you want to keep deluding yourself that you didn't bewitch me into making masterpieces grace that gorgeous skin of yours, be my guest. Just don't come crying when your dumbass blows our next appointment making dopey excuses for a rain check."

You laughed, easily settling into the familiar cadences of your long-running, playful banter with the talented tattoo artist. Truth be told, you relished these brief preludes to each session nearly as much as the actual artistry that followed. Terushima's unfiltered charisma and effortless way of putting you at ease was unmatched...not to mention how you always inexplicably found yourself growing flustered under the sheer magnetism of his piercing stare and toothy grins.

Shoving that disconcerting train of thought aside, you arched a single challenging brow. "Listen blade-stud, if I do end up missing another appointment, you'd best rush right over and tattoo THIS masterpiece yourself." You accompanied the provocative statement with a full-body once over that could only be described as a deliberate ogle. "Not that you'd find that to be such an imposition..."

Terushima's eyes predictably followed your shamelessly appraising perusal of his lean, athletic form -- taking in the molten embers that flared to life in his already smoldering gaze. He momentarily dragged his pierced tongue across those full lips in a move so blatant it made your mouth go dry, clearly chewing over some filthy riposte to lob back in your direction.

Anxiety and something dangerously akin to arousal thrummed through you in equal measure as the heavy tension stretched out between you, thick as river mud. A few abortive throat-clearings from the other occupants of the waiting area finally snapped you out of the heated stalemate.

Flushing dull crimson, you backpedaled with a somewhat sheepish grin. "So uh...y'think we can squeeze in that new side-piece today? I've got the design reference and everything pulled up if you're free."

Terushima eyed you with a distinctly predatory gleam lingering in the depths of those tawny irises for another suspended beat. Then, with the flick of a switch, he was oozing pure professionalism once more -- chasing away the thick undercurrents of provocative energy as a friendly grin stretched across his angular features.

"Course we can, no sweat," he agreed easily, straightening away from the counter and nodding towards the interior corridor leading to the private studio spaces. "Right this way, let's get you set up so I can pour all my creative juices into whatever you had in mind."

You opened your mouth to sling back a rejoinder to that obscenely leading statement...but Terushima had already turned on his heel and was sauntering down the hall without a backward glance. All you could do was stand rooted in place, cheeks burning as you took a fortifying breath and moved to follow.

This was going to be one hell of a long session, you could already tell.

By the time Terushima had you arranged on the padded recliner, he had already helped shuttle any lingering tension over the edge into professionalism. He made quick, efficient work of prepping the arm you indicated for the new ink -- asking concise follow-up questions about placement, size, and the design inspirations you were aiming to channel with this latest addition to your body art.

For his part, you found the artist hyper-focused and in the zone once preparations were underway. He handled your limb with the utmost care, yet also an understated reverence that spoke to how seriously he took his craft. The bold slashes of colorful imagery covering his own sun-kissed skin served as a living portfolio of his talent, only whetting your anticipation more acutely as he pulled up the digital rendering and reference designs on a mounted tablet.

"Lookin' to weave in some of those natural scenery elements we discussed last time?" Terushima asked in a low, effortless rasp as he scrutinized the design mock-up with a critical eye. "Maybe incorporate some structural geometry from that hiking trail you're so in love with as the framing borderwork?"

His fingers danced across the digital sketchpad, making minute adjustments and allowances to the linework right before your eyes. The deft movements were hypnotizing -- much like watching an artistic savant at their most inspired and open. You hummed an affirmative, finding yourself momentarily distracted by the glide of those long, calloused digits working their magic to translate your vague musings into visual reality.

"If you think it will all tie together into one cohesive statement, I trust your interpretation completely," you managed at last. Flicking a glance up towards Terushima's face, you found his piercing stare locked intently on the developing design rather than meeting yours. The ambient glow of the screens threw mesmerizing shadows across the sharp planes of his features, beautifully sculpted as if an artisan themselves had chiseled every line to classical proportions.

You swallowed hard against a sudden surge of longing completely at odds with the benign circumstances. Ever since meeting Terushima through a mutual friend's referral and sitting for your very first piece, you had felt these increasingly intrusive flashes of appreciation towards the talented artist -- inexplicable yearnings to run curious fingertips across the bold strokes of color and crisp linework decorating his taut skin. To taste the bright zing of his sunny, artful essence against your feverish mouth in moments of inspired abandon...

Ruthlessly, you shoved such wayward thoughts aside with a mental shake. Now wasn't the time for thirst-addled daydreams about Terushima's no-doubt impressive assets...and skill set. Besides, the idea of ever acting on those burgeoning compulsions was utterly laughable. You were a client, period -- and one he obviously had strictly platonic vibes towards if his easy, unaffected demeanor around you was any indication. Still, you couldn't resist sneaking one last sidelong look at the mesmerizing picture he made while completely immersed in the creative process.

Terushima wore the consummate aura of an artistic genius so effortlessly. From the mussed tumble of pale blonde hair to the way his broad shoulders rolled subtly with each sweeping movement, he exuded a quiet intensity that was utterly arresting to behold up close. You felt your heart stutter as the muscles in his arms and chest flexed in fascinating undulations with the motions of sketching -- unconsciously etching themselves into your frantic memory for later, more indecent contemplations.

"There it is," he breathed at last after several long minutes of intent focus. Rising to his feet with an easy, athletic roll of lean hips, Terushima pivoted the mounted tablet towards your awaiting scrutiny. "Pretty neat way to incorporate those natural elements you were going for while keeping it all grounded with some unified geometric rendering, yeah? Those lines should flow perfectly into the top-piece you already have planned out once we finish inking."

You startled slightly at the proximity of his voice. Jerking your gaze away from where it had been tracing the crisp vee of Terushima's slender hips, you blinked owlishly before hurrying to study the design mock-up anew. He was right, of course -- the linework and shading additions he had incorporated into the base design were seamless. As if the original rendering you had fallen in love with online had been elevated into a whole new artistic expression without losing its core essence.

"Shit...that's perfect!" You exhaled at last, tipping your chin up to meet Terushima's illuminated stare with a look of naked appreciation. "I swear you make this seem easy!"

Entirely without conscious volition, you reached out to squeeze Terushima's forearm in a gesture of gratitude and friendly affection. The fevered thrum of his pulse against your fingertips was startling, a visceral reminder of the living canvas you were complimenting. When he flashed you one of those signature toothy grins, nothing but authentic warmth and satisfaction radiating from his features, you very nearly pulled your hand back with equal haste -- worried its lingering presence might broadcast the wrong sort of impression.

But then the moment passed as swiftly as it arose. With a subtle throat clearing, Terushima gave a slight nod and moved to finish setting up his workstation. He tossed over one lean shoulder as he moved with easy grace to prep his tattoo gun. "Should be a real nice tie-in with that upper flourish you already have going by the time we're done inking today..."

The next stretch of time passed in a sort of serene, creative fugue as the familiar buzzing of the tattoo gun filled the small studio space. Terushima was all intense focus and quiet competence once more as he went to work etching the permanent design into your proffered skin. You found yourself mesmerized watching the ink take shape beneath his deft hands -- an appreciation of art unlike any other as he coaxed your body into becoming the living canvas.

Of course, it was difficult not to grow steadily more attuned to Terushima's nearness as the minutes ticked by in heated silence. The man was all lean, honed muscle and clean, sharp lines where you lay soft and pliable beneath his careful attention. At one point you found your gaze tracing the corded sinew in his biceps as they flexed and released with each pass of the tattoo gun. Following the darkly appealing trail of inked patterns swirling up towards the solid juncture of his shoulders and--

You bit back a tiny groan of frustration, realizing you were once again allowing your thoughts to drift in an extremely inappropriate direction. Squeezing your eyes shut, you concentrated on the rasping buzz of the needle caressing your skin rather than let your heightened awareness of Terushima's body linger any longer.

Except...even that was a mistake.

The suddenly sharpened awareness of every subtle scrape and tingling kiss of sensation across your overly sensitized skin made you acutely conscious of where, exactly, the current canvas was being shaped on your body. Terushima was leaning over your inner arm, bent at an intense angle as he filled in the gracefully arcing lines spanning from wrist to elbow joint.

The position placed his face scant inches from the slight swell of your breast as he worked -- near enough that you could actually feel the lightest whispers of his exhales ghosting across the thin cotton covering your chest. Your nipples tightened despite yourself, shocking sparks of arousal lancing straight to your core at the proximity.

Desperately you tried to think unsexy thoughts. Rotted vegetation, unpaid bills, awkward family gatherings...but nothing could dampen the traitorous flush of heat steadily creeping across your nerve endings. Particularly not when Terushima shifted his weight closer to get better traction, practically looming over your upper torso at this point with one knee braced alongside your hip.

The male fibrous notes of his earthy body wash saturated the static-laced air blanketing you both. You breathed in deep, stunned at how quickly the atmosphere in the small studio had taken on such thick, charged undercurrents despite Terushima's complete immersion in his artistry. Each subtle inhalation brought a dizzying new swirl of his natural, masculine scent lacing through your senses...until you felt drugged and heavy-lidded simply from the resonant vibrations of his presence so intimately invading your aura.

Sensation after molten sensation lapped at your subconscious like so many retreating tides. Until at last, you couldn't ignore the heated tide pool gathering at your body's core any longer.

The pointed awareness of your insistent arousal made the heavy air around you both feel thick and charged as ionized smoke. You found your gaze drifting helplessly to the sharp vee of Terushima's sculpted collarbones peeking above the open collar of his shirt. Followed the lean cords of his sinewy throat working in subtle rhythm as he remained focused on his artistry flowing across your skin.

When your heated stare lingered on the captivating sight of his silver tongue piercing dashing across his full lower lip in an subconscious display of concentration, a tremulous sigh escaped your parted mouth. The soft exhalation seemed to reverberate in the tense silence surrounding you both, finally shattering whatever tranquil spell had fallen over the studio.

Terushima went still as death, piercing tawny gaze flickering up to find yours -- pupils already blown wide with unveiled desire. You watched with breathless anticipation as he slowly, deliberately dragged the tip of that tantalizingly studded tongue across his lips once more, maintaining searing eye contact all the while.

"Getting a little hot under the collar there?" he rasped after a protracted, loaded moment. His voice was a sandpaper rasp of pure provocation, sending an involuntary shudder cascading through you.

Despite the heated evidence of your body's pronounced interest in your current intimate position, you managed a shaky semblance of your usual unaffected bravado. "What can I say? All these glimpses of your 'artistry' on display have me...appreciating your full skillset," you husked in return, allowing your eyes to drag a deliberate path down the lean, tattooed canvas of his torso in a shameless ogle.

"Pretty sure that kind of appreciation is gonna cost extra though," Terushima growled in response -- low and full of sensual promise. Before you could formulate a rejoinder, he closed the scant distance between you with one smooth, predatory slide of his weight until you were essentially caged between the hard planes of his body and the unforgiving surface beneath.

Your breath caught in your throat as he braced one forearm alongside your ribcage, effectively trapping you while simultaneously allowing you an unobstructed view of every delicious inch of coiled muscle and colorful ink now on display. The heavy musk of him surrounded you utterly, drenching your senses in potent masculinity until your mouth practically watered from proximity alone.

"I distinctly remember someone being warned about behaving during our sessions," Terushima growled against the shell of your ear, lips brushing fire across your sensitized skin until you shuddered violently. "We might need to have a conversation about adding rush fees to your tab...if you keep squirming around while I'm workin' my magic like this..."

The suggestive undercurrent of meaning laced through every word had your core clenching with thrumming desire. You couldn't bite back the shameless whine that spilled free as the delicious heat of Terushima's body seared through your thin layers, pressing against you with tantalizing friction. Blindly, you reached out to anchor yourself by fisting a hand at the nape of his neck -- relishing the silken slide of short hair around your fingers as you tugged impatiently.

"Maybe I want to misbehave," you whispered without a hint of compunction, already shifting restlessly against the unyielding planes pinning you down. "I'm definitely craving some...overtime benefits to go along with your services."

Terushima let out a dark chuckle of sheer sin against your tingling pulse point. The wet heat of his tongue swept across the same electrified path a split-second later, sending lightning jolts of blistering arousal ricocheting down your nerve endings. You cried out in shameless bliss as his wicked mouth latched onto the sensitive juncture, suckling ardently while one broad palm palmed your ribs before skating sinuously lower...

As his calloused fingertips finally drifted beneath the hem of your shirt to brand searing paths across exposed skin, Terushima broke away with heated labored breaths. You watched him chase the mesmerizing glint of his tongue piercing with a lust-darkened stare, utterly entranced by the lurid promise blazing from every chiseled inch of his features.

"Better be sure you can handle this particular bit of artistry sweetheart," he growled at last, the gravelly burr sending fresh sparks of liquid heat pooling at your apex. "I have a feeling my...techniques are about to get pretty fucking intense before we're through..."

With that salacious warning, Terushima bent his shoulders and descended upon your parted lips in a searing kiss of pure possession. Your mouth welcomed the sensual invasion with a broken cry, arching eagerly to deepen the molten exchange.

The kiss was all tongue and teeth and white-hot desperation -- a tangle of need and lust and sheer intoxicating chemistry. Every slide of his talented tongue stud against the sensitive roof of your mouth sent another gush of molten arousal spilling between your thighs, until you were a writhing, pleading mess of raw sensuality beneath his expert touch.

All the while, Terushima kept up his deft assault on the hyper-sensitive nerves dotting your midsection -- skirting the outer edges of your needy sex but never quite making full contact. Each teasing pass only stoked the inferno roiling within your core until you were nearly ready to beg for more.

At last, when the searing heat at your core had become a raging conflagration, Terushima finally dragged his palm upward. The slow, torturous slide across feverish flesh had you keening into his kiss, desperate for the promise of more. Then his clever fingers were tracing the lace banding your ribcage before finally, blissfully sliding the material upwards and over your breasts.

A throaty growl escaped the artist's mouth as his hands cupped your naked flesh, kneading the tender peaks until you were nearly delirious with want. Breaking the kiss with a ragged curse, Terushima's tawny gaze dropped to rake an unabashedly hungry perusal of the bounty on display.

"Fuck me...you're goddamn perfection," he muttered under his breath, thumbing across the puckered peaks until you shuddered with renewed pleasure. Then he was bending to swirl his tongue around one nipple, drawing it deep into the scalding heat of his mouth to suckle mercilessly.

You writhed and sobbed against the delicious onslaught, hips bucking in restless, frantic search for the friction you needed most. Terushima took the movement as his cue to redouble his efforts, laving attention on first one nipple then the other. His wicked tongue stud grazed each sensitive bud with the most delicious pressure, leaving a wet, cooling trail of saliva in its wake that only served to heighten the throbbing ache between your legs.

By the time Terushima slid a calloused palm beneath the waistband of your jeans, you were already a dripping mess of desperate need. He didn't disappoint -- fingers finding your molten core with practiced ease. The artist hummed his appreciation against your collarbone as he traced your soaked slit, gathering the evidence of your arousal on dexterous digits.

"Jesus fucking Christ, look at this sweet cunt just begging for my cock," he groaned, nipping sharply at the underside of your jaw before laving the sting with his tongue. "And all mine...just gotta show you a bit more of my craftsmanship before I really get my fill, yeah?"

"Fuck...fuck...please," you whined, barely aware of the words spilling from your mouth as you writhed mindlessly beneath his relentless, expert touch. The blunt pads of Terushima's fingertips continued to circle your aching clit, alternating featherlight caresses with punishing strokes -- never giving you the leverage you needed to chase the impending release fluttering at the edge of your consciousness.

You were a mess of sensual desperation by the time he finally, mercifully slipped a finger inside your throbbing channel. His name was a breathy chant falling from your lips, a prayer for deliverance from the exquisite torment. Then, just as you felt your climax cresting -- a second finger plunged into the tight, slick sheath.

The sudden, delicious stretch was a shock to your system, forcing a startled gasp from your throat. Before you could catch your breath, Terushima was thrusting those thick, calloused digits with a rough, driving rhythm that had you sobbing and arching from the blinding sensations.

"That's it, give me what I need," he rasped against the shell of your ear. The guttural rasp was so full of pure masculine dominance and primal ownership that it nearly tipped you over the edge. But still, he kept his fingers just shy of hitting the right angle -- holding you right on the precipice until you were a wreck of incoherent babbling and shameless pleas for release.

Then, with one final twist and curl, the dam finally shattered. A scream ripped from your lungs as a wave of blinding ecstasy washed through you. Your core clenched violently around the invading digits, riding each crashing wave as Terushima worked you through the orgasm.

"So fucking beautiful...you have no idea how many times I've fantasized about this," he was saying, the words muffled against your sweat-dampened temple. "You coming undone around my fingers, so hot and wet and eager. Fuck, you're gonna feel so perfect around my cock. Just you wait..."

Terushima didn't stop pumping his fingers through the aftershocks, nor the filthy words dripping from his sinful mouth. Instead, he seemed to sense exactly how close you were to another crest and doubled down -- sliding a third finger into the pulsating grip of your channel. The sudden pressure was overwhelming, almost painful.

It was too much. Not enough. You were flying apart at the seams.

You were barely aware of the keening wail that accompanied the second crest -- a violent crescendo of sensations that left you gasping and limp against the padded chair. By the time your vision cleared, Terushima had pulled away to admire his handiwork. His fingers glistened with your release, and his pupils were blown wide with unmistakable hunger.

"I don't think I'm ever gonna get tired of seeing that look," he breathed after a protracted moment, voice raw with need. "Fuck, it's gonna be hard to walk out of this room right now. Pretty sure that was the hottest shit I've ever seen."

You couldn't find the words to respond, instead simply watching with glassy eyes as he dragged his soaked digits across his lower lip. When the tip of his pierced tongue darted out to lick the wetness clean, the blatant carnality of the gesture had another tremor racing through your limbs.

Terushima seemed to realize just how much he was affecting you -- if the sudden flash of pure lust across his chiseled features was any indication. As his eyes darkened impossibly further, his mouth quirked up into a devilish smirk.

"Y'know, there is something else we could do...to really put those creative juices of mine to work." The tone was a sinful rasp, dripping with sensual promise and wicked intent. It took a moment for the implication to sink in, but then your brain was short-circuiting again with a flood of white-hot arousal.

"You can't be serious," you managed in a broken whisper, unable to tear your gaze from the lewd picture his lips painted. "There's no way that will even fit."

Terushima just shrugged, the motion full of fluid grace as he rose smoothly to his feet. "Worth a shot," he rasped. "And who knows, maybe all the extra lubrication from those two orgasms you just gave me will make it easier..."

You swallowed hard, eyes flitting helplessly towards the very obvious tenting in the front of his pants. As if reading your mind, he made quick work of the zipper and shucked the garment entirely -- standing gloriously naked before you in all his chiseled, inked glory.

"Holy shit..." was all you could manage at the sight of him.

His erection was truly a work of art, in all the best possible ways. Thick and heavy, it curved upward with a slight upward tilt -- the tip already flushed an angry red and glistening with pre-cum. It looked impossibly large from your vantage point, though Terushima was already reaching down to fist the base with a lazy pump.

"Well? You wanna give it a try, or am I gonna have to take care of things myself?" The words were a playful rasp, laced with filthy insinuation and a challenge for you to rise to.

You felt the last vestiges of hesitation crumble away beneath the weight of your desire, giving way to the raw, primal urges screaming at you to throw yourself into Terushima's waiting embrace. In the blink of an eye, you were rising to your feet, stripping away the remaining clothing in a haphazard pile and stepping boldly forward to close the distance between you.

When his lean, tattooed torso collided with yours, the feeling was pure euphoria. Your mouths came together in a messy, passionate clash of tongues and teeth and desperation. Terushima's hands were everywhere, sliding over every curve and dip of your naked form like a man possessed.

Your own eager touch was no less frantic. You were consumed by the need to taste every inch of him, to feel the firm planes of his body pressed against you with delicious friction. As the heated slide of your skin against his became more frenzied, a litany of curses tumbled from Terushima's mouth -- a low, sensual stream of praise that had you nearly sobbing with need.

"You're gonna fuckin' kill me, but I have to have you. Now," he growled against the shell of your ear, punctuating the statement by fisting a hand in your hair and tugging hard. "Been dying to have you ride my cock, just like this. Need to feel this tight little cunt squeezing the cum out of me."

Before you could fully process the filthy declaration, you were being lifted off the ground. Then your back hit the padded recliner with a jarring impact that made you squeak in surprise. In a heartbeat, Terushima was bracketing your hips with his thighs and bracing both palms on either side of your head -- caging you in with the intoxicating heat of his body.

You whimpered at the heady sensation of him sliding his thick length between your legs, coating himself in your wetness. Then he was lining up at your entrance and pushing inside in a slow, relentless glide that had you arching and sobbing with the delicious pressure.

Terushima's head hung heavy above yours, jaw clenched tight and sweat-dampened strands of blonde hair sticking to his forehead. The corded muscles of his shoulders and neck stood out in sharp relief as he fought for control.

"Fuck me...so goddamn perfect, sweetheart. Gonna ruin me for any other pussy," he ground out. The gravelly rasp sent a fresh gush of liquid arousal spilling around his thick shaft. "Can't wait to feel you cumming all over my cock, milking me dry while I paint that pretty little cunt."

All you could do was whine incoherently in response, the sensation of being so perfectly stretched and full of him making it impossible to form words. It felt like you were being torn apart in the most glorious way possible, the sweetest ache throbbing between your thighs.

When Terushima finally started to move, you thought you might fly apart from the intensity. He pulled out slowly before slamming home in a powerful thrust that had you crying out and clawing at his shoulders. Each successive movement was more forceful than the last, the tempo building into a brutal rhythm that left you breathless and reeling.

Your entire world shrank down to the single point of contact where your bodies moved as one. Terushima was growling unintelligible filth in your ear, telling you how perfect and tight and wet you were, how he couldn't wait to see you come all over his cock. The filthy words stoked the flames of your pleasure, the mounting pressure reaching an impossible pitch.

Just when you thought you couldn't possibly take anymore, Terushima reached down between your sweat-slickened bodies and found your swollen clit. His expert touch was like an electrical current, sending bolts of sizzling pleasure ricocheting through every nerve ending. You felt the dam inside you breaking, the release coming in a violent torrent that had you screaming his name and shaking beneath him.

Terushima was right behind you, groaning and grinding his pelvis against yours as his cock twitched and pulsed. Then he was cumming inside you in thick, hot spurts. His lips were on yours, devouring you in a kiss full of pure primal passion and need. You clung to him with a ferocity that should have alarmed you, but it was impossible to care.

"Fuuuuck...you are everything I dreamed and more," Terushima rasped against the sweat-slicked column of your throat. The words were barely coherent, but they sent a thrill of pleasure and satisfaction rushing through your veins. "

You hummed in agreement, relishing the warm, heavy weight of his body on top of yours. After a moment, he stirred and pressed a lazy, lingering kiss against your mouth.

"Y'know, we still got time before our next appointment...and I'm sure as hell not finished with you yet," he murmured. There was an undercurrent of suggestion in the graveled tone, and the implication was enough to have your core clenching around him.

"Better not be," you shot back, nipping at his bottom lip. "Because we're definitely adding rush fees to that tab."

"Mmmm...you're gonna pay in the best way possible, baby. Trust me."

#haikyuu smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x reader smut #terushima yuuji #haikyuu terushima #terushima x reader #terushima smut #terushima yūji #yuuji terushima

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ghostkingdoesstuff · 4 months

Text

A friendly reminder I am not to be held accountable for the things I'm about to say. Percy Jackson Season 1 FINALLY (SPOILERS BUT THAT'S THE LEAST OF YOUR PROBLEMS)

The visceral noise I made eating popcorn as Luke said "look you didn't ask to be a half-blood" caused an earthquake in Alaska, I'm sorry I was facing northwest.

"Riposte" I'm sorry, no I'm sorry no-

Also, the background of the sword fighting scene was very pretty.

Poseidon showing up for his son!!! Letts gooooooo! THE WEIGHT OF THE OCEAN UPON YEE!!!

Right in the heel, it's gotta hurt!

Percy asked his uncle to please return his mom, wholesome family gold.

"He'll kill you." "I done to stop running from monsters." "You're gonna need all the luck you can get." The show gets why these two work. Friends before anything else.

Glory as a theme is something that I like that the show highlights more. But Grover is right. at least send an insurance email or something. A quick "on my way, please don't kill anyone"

Dropping the master bolt on some poor dudes desk, legendary.

Olympus is so fucking beutiful omg

I'm gonna cry if Luke and Percy are in the same scene as each other in this episode again. ILL DO IT! THAT'S A THREAT!

The dead silence, I'm shitting omg... yes I know what happens and?

Followed by "I didn't steal it! Neither did any of my friends" IM GONNA CRY! IM GONNA DO IT

The pin strip suit, the sky blue paisley tie, the presence, the voice, THE KING OF THE GODS PEOPLE

Lotta talk for someone so small and scary

POISIDEN GETTING BETWEEN HIS SON AND HIS BROTHER I'M GONNA THROW UP

POSIDEN AND ZEUS SPEAKING GREEK I'M GONNA PISS

THE SEA DOES NOT LIKE TO BE RESTRAINED (🎶BRING ON THE MONSTERS BRING ON THE REAL WORLD!!!🎶)

SALLY JACKSON TEACHING PERCY GREEK I'M GONNA-

"Of course we dream. why do you ask?" "Do you ever dream about mom?" ;-;

Thalia looking strudy as ever.

"Ready?" NO FUCK YOU NO

Another reminder I am not to held liable for anything I might say, you need only see how many times I've listened to "Last day of Summer" from The musical to understand how much I've thought of this moment in fictional time.

Confirmation that Luke was indeed what mattered most in the end? I'm gonna make myself cry shit-

Honestly, this Percy might be too smart for his own good. Bro's never gonna live this heartbreak down.

"You...I'm here to recruit." I- fucking- AHHHH

"OUR WAY OUT" RICK YOU BASTARD I HOPE YOU ROT IN ASPHODEL

"Stop saying "we"!" "It’s the word Zeus fears the most."

AND SHE HEARD EVERYTHING! Wasn't she supposed to be watching Clarrise? He'll, if Percy could figure it out, I'm sure Annabeth would. It's worth it to see that LOOK on Luke's face. I'm sorry. Feel the weight of your actions, man.

Miss my old friend the pit scorpion but I also like my new friend "the first scars we gave eachother"

He knows Luke won't hurt him physically, but the psychic damage hurts more and has lasting status de buffs.

"Just be a kid" that's it

"I'll find you" that's it

Promising to meet again next summer...Percy just you wait.

THE FAKE OUT OF A LIFETIME

"Grandpa" "don't call him that"

They are the ultimate mother son duo

BLUE PANCAKES!

Kinda hate that Sally didn't intentionally do a murder, or at least she has a lot more possible deniability now, but I hope she still makes a sweet sale on that sculpture!

And that's it! Fuck it's over what to do now... RE READING THE LIGHTING THEIF LIFE BLOG COMING SOON! As well I'll probably drop a summary of my thoughts on the whole season at some point soon! Happy Finally, y'all! Can't wait to see the discorse!

#percy jackson #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #pjo fandom #pjo tv adaptation #pjo disney+#luke castellan #percy jackon and the olympians #annabeth chase #grover underwood #thalia grace #pjo spoilers

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maybeitsalivescribbles · 14 days

Text

I wondered what would happen if heroes were stuck in a town without villains, and this is the result:

The Fakers

At the Hero Agency, the open space was silent. The clock alone was ticking the seconds away, although they seemed more like minutes for the three heroes inside. Only their suits added a touch of color in the gray room. It was a sunny day, but their expressions were as stern as their office. Settled behind their laptops, they frowned, scrolling furiously and refreshing the live news stream. Sometimes, they asked each other:

“Do you have something? Anything?”

Since they all checked the same sites, the answer was always negative. They couldn’t help, though. They kept asking. Suddenly, Hero 1 yelled:

“Hey, come and see this!”

The others jumped out of their seats, rushing to them:

“Something new?”

“A robbery?”

“A kidnapping?”

“A storm coming?”

“No! A cat video!”

Well, it was better than nothing. Everyone pressed around the screen to see the kittens. One minute and a half of glorious amazement later, they all turned back to their places, sharing embarrassed smiles.

During the next hour, a phone rang in Hero 2's pocket. They weren’t allowed to answer them in the office, but it was a long time that didn’t matter anymore. Without showing it, the others listened rapturously to every laconic answer Hero 2 made. After she hanged up, another asked innocuously:

“Everything’s all right?”

She raised her head as if it weighted too much for her neck:

“Hmm? Yes, yes. That was my sister Superhero, from the capital. She just fought Villain in hand-to-hand combat. She’s fine.”

“Oh. That’s good, then.”

“Sure.”

There was a tense silence. Everyone went back to their computers, and jumped when she hit the table with her fist:

“Damn it, why am I stuck in this office? I’m a goddamn loser!”

The other heroes glanced at each other nervously and didn’t answer, but she wasn’t finished:

“I can fight Villains just as well as her! I went to the same academy! I trained just as hard!”

Hero 3 tried to defuse the situation:

“We know, Hero 2. You fought so well during Supervillain’s attack-”

“That was two years ago!”

“Because...err..because we made such a good job Villains are scared to come here now?”

“No, damn it! It’s because that city is so bloody little no one is interested in taking it over! No building to explode, no rich people to kidnap, and I bet the bank only has pocket change! Nobody cares about us!”

No one replied. She was right and they all knew it.

“That’s not that bad,” tried to plead Hero 1. “I mean, if we were in the capital, we would see catastrophes and dead people every day. Isn’t this a reasonable price for peace? I-”

Hero 2 turned to face them, roaring:

“What about the money, Hero 1? What about the fucking money? We don’t find a villain to fight, the agency will cut our salary completely, and the health insurance. Do you have another safe job in mind, in this economy? I think not!”

Hero 1's gaze snapped to the floor.

“She’s right,” said Hero 3 in his soft, low, sad voice. “My daughter will get to college next year. I don’t know how to tell her that I might not have the money.”

“We’re screwed, aren’t we?” asked Hero 1 mournfully.

“If we keep wallowing, yes,” riposted Hero 2, knotting her fingers together. “But the academy has taught us not to give into despair. There must be something we can do.”

“No, not we, that’s the problem,” interjected Hero 3. “We just – we need a villain.”

“You have a list, Hero 1, don’t you?”

“Yes. I know who are the closest to us, and what crimes they have done. But you don’t suggest-”

Hero 2 stood up and paced the room, stopping just to look at them:

“I’m just saying! We’re out of options. Not all Villains do a lot of damage. If we set a trap for one to come here, it’ll be a good action, right? We’d be stopping them. That’s our job. We catch one, we make them promise to stay in town and not to hurt citizens, we let them go, rinse and repeat.”

The two others exchanged a glance. Hero 1 bit their lip, but as they were about to talk, Hero 3 shook his head:

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. We don’t know the harm we can bring into the city.”

“Think about your daughter!”

“Lots of people here have a daughter. I couldn’t sleep at night if I hurt one of them. I’ve not become a hero to do this.”

He crossed his arms, on the defensive. Hero 2 stepped towards him, with a pleading smile:

“At least let’s take a look at them. Just a little peek at the list. We have to inform ourselves anyway.”

Hero 3 grimaced, but he went along when the two others came to see the list on Hero 1's computer.

“Oh, look at this gal! Only specialized in robberies, lives only 50 km from here.”

“Nah, read ahead,” protested Hero 3. She killed one hostage once.”

“Okay, fine,” sighed Hero 2. “What about this guy? He didn’t do much. Just kidnapped the mayor of his town once. I mean, who can blame him ? The man is nasty.”

“Yeah, but after that he kidnapped his eight-year-old boy to make a point. Pass.”

“If you nitpick like that, we’ll never find anyone!”

“You call this nitpicking? Anyway, what would you do to make them come here? Write a letter? “Dear Villain, come to wreck shit in our town so we can be paid, please don’t denounce us, signed Very amoral heroes?” That doesn’t make sense!”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Hero 3 hesitated.

“Maybe we should write a letter to the agency,” he proposed. If our job is done, maybe they’ll relocate us to a bigger town.”

“Do you know the rent there?”

“Maybe we can replace heroes who were wounded or something to begin with.”

Hero 1, who played with their pen during their conversation, suddenly threw it in the air with an exclamation of triumph. The pen hit Hero’s 2 shoulder, who yelped indignantly and encased it in ice with a snap of her fingers.

“I’ve got it!” yelled Hero 1, turning towards their colleagues with a huge grin. “Replace, that’s it!”

Opening a file which contained their schedules, they pointed at the others, adding:

“Heroes, meet our villains!”

Hero 2 and 3 looked at their finger designating them and exchanged a glance.

“You mean... we turn evil?”

“Listen to me. We can’t trust Villains to do the right evil thing. But we do, right? We know this town. We never patrol at the same time. While one of us do the heroing, another pretends to be a new villain in town. We train between each other, so we’ll have no problem fighting for show.”

The room fell into a brief, stunned silence.

“Can we do it?” wondered Hero 2, griping her elbows. “I mean, we’re heroes. Do we have what it takes?”

“I’m sure we can be whatever we want to be, replied Hero 1 reassuringly. Look at your willingness to throw away citizens' safety for yourself! That was very evil.”

Hero 2 blushed:

“Aw, you only say that.”

“I mean it! You’d be perfectly vicious!”

“My, that- that means a lot. You too, you’d be a really good evil mastermind.”

“Aw, thanks. And Hero 3 here was ready to destroy our plans at every turn! Just like a villain. Plus, at the last break, he ate the next doughnut.”

“I didn’t mean it!” he gasped, turning red.

They all looked expectantly at him.

“Nobody is coming to rescue us,” slowly said Hero 2, smirking. “Sometimes you have to be your own Villain.”

Hero 3 sighed and crossed his arms:

“I can sew,” he mumbled. “I’ll make us new costumes.”

Back to the Hero x Villain Masterlist.

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shuttershocky · 8 months

Note

Shoot do I have to actually get SR now? I thought I could skip it because Musou but that sounds so rad.

Fate/Samurai Remnant plays a lot like a musou that realized Fate/Extella was kind of ass to play through after every servant just buttonmashed random attack buttons to clear through the entire game, so while it's still a musou at it's core they actually make you think about things.

Many enemies will try to block your attacks, perfectly dodging a strike lets you do a Riposte that breaks through even a Servant's guard, once Iori fights in one style long enough (or pulls off certain moves) he enters a flow state that lets him switch styles while keeping a buff from the first style that encourages style swapping over the course of a fight, Saber actually fights in tandem with Iori (they take on enemies you don't, follow up on your attacks, sometimes even jump to your rescue when youre at low health), and non-trash enemies will actually try to kick your ass into next week by attacking often and reacting to you.

But more than that, it's just good. This was clearly a budget title for Koei Tecmo, but made with a lot of love and attention to detail.

A good example is how when Iori is asked what his goal for the Waxing Moon Ritual is, he responds that he's simply planning to end the ritual because it endangers people. It's a familiar answer—it's exactly what Shirou says in Fate/Stay Night—However, since Samurai Remnant isn't a visual novel, you can do things like wander around and examine the destruction left behind, and find stuff outside of the main story's view, like this.

While Saber and Lancer were having fun shooting fire and water all over the place and wrecking Asakusa, Iori's concern for his neighbors and city was absolutely right. One of them died that night in the crossfire.

You can go up to other townspeople and they'll be talking about how lightning struck the village, or mourning their destroyed shops or homes, and others will be expressing relief that Iori's okay after that disaster because his house was struck first.

These guys are the most generic of generic looking NPCs, and yet the detail in having NPCs actually deal with the aftermath of the sick anime fights while expressing relief that their neighbor Iori is okay actually breathes more life into the setting and makes it feel lived in than making an expansive open world sandbox.

#FSR spoilers

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a-small-writer-in-a-big-world · 6 months

Text

D&D!141: Classes and Races

I spent way too much time on this and ended up putting too much effort into their character stats.

This is post is about their class, race and any other information that pertains to that. There will be a lot of dnd words, rules, and things that some people might not be familiar with. I will try to explain as best as I can but feel free to ask questions!

Backstories will be posted eventually.

Of course, I have to tag @gold0kapi who has drawn some amazing tiefling!soap that spawned this mess. i loved your drawings very much <3

Captain John Price

Price is a variant human fighter.

Variant humans gain one more prophecy in a skill, get to choose a feat and two of their ability scores increase by one (i haven't rolled their stats). It makes sense for him to be variant human going off of who he is in CoD.

Feat: Alert

You gain a +5 bonus to initiative.

You can’t be surprised while you are conscious.

Other creatures don’t gain advantage on attack rolls against you as a result of being hidden from you.

Background

Variant Noble - Knight: A knighthood is among the lowest noble titles in most societies, but it can be a path to higher status.

Class: Level 10 Fighter

Fighting style: Archery

You gain a +2 bonus to attack rolls you make with ranged weapons.

Second Wind

You have a limited well of stamina that you can draw on to protect yourself from harm. On your turn, you can use a bonus action to regain hit points equal to 1d 10 + your fighter level

Battle Master

To a Battle Master, combat is an academic field, sometimes including subjects beyond battle such as weaponsmithing and calligraphy. Not every fighter absorbs the lessons of history, theory, and artistry that are reflected in the Battle Master archetype, but those who do are well-rounded fighters of great skill and knowledge.

Maneuvers

Commander's strike

Parry

Precision attack

Rally

Riposte

Maneuvering attack

Distracting strike

Evasive footwork

Proficient Skills

Intimidation

Persuasion

Perception

Survival

Insight

History

Languages

Common

Elvish

* A lot of people who play dnd call this boring and generic but I think it fits Price in the grand scheme of things because he's so powerful and influential that he doesn't need to be anything other than human. He is a testament to the human desire to never give up.

Simon Ghost Riley

Ghost is a Fallen Aasimar multiclassed fighter and rouge.

A fallen aasimar is as aasimar who was touched by dark powers as a youth or who turns to evil in early adulthood can become one of the fallen-a group of aasimar whose inner light has been replaced by shadow

Necrotic Shroud:

Starting at 3rd level, you can use your action to unleash the divine energy within yourself, causing your eyes to turn into pools of darkness and two skeletal, ghostly, flightless wings to sprout from your back. The instant you transform, other creatures within 10 feet of you that can see you must each succeed on a Charisma saving throw or become frightened of you until the end of your next turn

Background:

Soldier - War has been your life for as long as you care to remember. You trained as a youth, studied the use of weapons and armor, learned basic survival techniques, including how to stay alive on the battlefield.

Class: Multiclassed fighter and rogue

Level 7 fighter

Fighting style: Archery

You gain a +2 bonus to attack rolls you make with ranged weapons.

Second Wind

You have a limited well of stamina that you can draw on to protect yourself from harm. On your turn, you can use a bonus action to regain hit points equal to 1d 10 + your fighter level

Champion

The archetypal Champion focuses on the development of raw physical power honed to deadly perfection. Those who model themselves on this archetype combine rigorous training with physical excellence to deal devastating blows.

Improved critical

Beginning when you choose this archetype at 3rd level, your weapon attacks score a critical hit on a roll of 19 or 20.

Remarkable Athlete

Starting at 7th level, you can add half your proficiency bonus (round up) to any Strength, Dexterity, or Constitution check you make that doesn’t already use your proficiency bonus. In addition, when you make a running long jump, the distance you can cover increases by a number of feet equal to your Strength modifier

Level 2 rouge

Sneak attack

You know how to strike subtly and exploit a foe’s distraction. Once per turn, you can deal an extra 1d6 damage to one creature you hit with an attack if you have advantage on the attack roll. The attack must use a finesse or a ranged weapon.

Cunning action

Starting at 2nd level, your quick thinking and agility allow you to move and act quickly. You can take a bonus action on each of your turns in combat. This action can be used only to take the Dash, Disengage, or Hide action.

Proficient Skills

Survival

Perception

Stealth

Athletics

Intimidation

Languages

Common

Celestial

Thieves cant

*Note that fallen aasimar do not have to be evil

John Soap MacTavish

Soap is Tiefling Artificer

Tieflings are derived from human bloodlines, and in the broadest possible sense, they still look human. However, their infernal heritage has left a clear imprint on their appearance.

Hellish resistance

You have resistance to fire damage

Hellish rebuke

You point your finger, and the creature that damaged you is momentarily surrounded by hellish flames. The creature must make a Dexterity saving throw. It takes 2d10 fire damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one.

Darkness

Magical darkness spreads from a point you choose within range to fill a 15-foot-radius sphere for the duration. The darkness spreads around corners. A creature with darkvision can’t see through this darkness, and nonmagical light can’t illuminate it.

Background

Guild artisan - You are a member of an artisan's guild, skilled in a particular field and closely associated with other artisans. You are a well-established part of the mercantile world, freed by talent and wealth from the constraints of a feudal social order. You learned your skills as an apprentice to a master artisan, under the sponsorship of your guild, until you became a master in your own right.

Class: Level 8 artificer

Magical tinkering

You've learned how to invest a spark of magic into mundane objects. To use this ability, you must have thieves' tools or artisan's tools in hand. You then touch a Tiny nonmagical object as an action and give it one of the following magical properties of your choice

Artillerist

An Artillerist specializes in using magic to hurl energy, projectiles, and explosions on a battlefield. This destructive power is valued by armies in the wars on many different worlds

Eldritch canon

You've learned how to create a magical cannon. Using woodcarver's tools or smith's tools, you can take an action to magically create a Small or Tiny eldritch cannon in an unoccupied space on a horizontal surface within 5 feet of you. A Small eldritch cannon occupies its space, and a Tiny one can be held in one hand.

Arcane Firearm

You know how to turn a wand, staff, or rod into an arcane firearm, a conduit for your destructive spells. When you finish a long rest, you can use woodcarver's tools to carve special sigils into a wand, staff, or rod and thereby turn it into your arcane firearm.

Spells

Cantrips

Fire bolt

Thunderclap

1st level spells

cure wounds

faerie fire

absorb elements

feather fall

shield

thunderwave

2nd level spells

heat metal

magic weapon

aid

scorching ray

shatter

*at level 9 he can cast fireball...Price is scared

Proficient Skills

investigation

arcana

insight

persuasion

Languages

common

infernal

celestial

*tieflings can come from a fully human household. The tiefling gene can skip generations before it shows. Tieflings are made because of a pact struck generations ago infused the essence of Asmodeus—overlord of the Nine Hells—into their bloodline. In the players handbook, tieflings are often looked down upon.

Kyle Gaz Garrick

Gaz is an Elf ranger

Elves are a magical people of otherworldly grace, living in the world but not entirely part of it.

Fey Ancestry

You have advantage on saving throws against being charmed, and magic can’t put you to sleep.

Trance

Elves don’t need to sleep. Instead, they meditate deeply, remaining semiconscious, for 4 hours a day

Background

City Watch - You have served the community where you grew up, standing as its first line of defense against crime. You aren't a soldier, directing your gaze outward at possible enemies. Instead, your service to your hometown was to help police its populace, protecting the citizenry from lawbreakers and malefactors of every stripe.

Class: level 8 ranger

Fighting style: Defense

While you are wearing armor, you gain a +1 bonus to AC.

Favored enemy: Undead

Favored terrain: Urban

Horizon Walker

Horizon walkers guard the world against threats that originate from other planes or that seek to ravage the mortal realm with otherworldly magic.

Detect portal

At 3rd level, you gain the ability to magically sense the presence of a planar portal. As an action, you detect the distance and direction to the closest planar portal within 1 mile of you.

Planar warrior

At 3rd level, you learn to draw on the energy of the multiverse to augment your attacks.

As a bonus action, choose one creature you can see within 30 feet of you. The next time you hit that creature on this turn with a weapon attack, all damage dealt by the attack becomes force damage, and the creature takes an extra 1d8 force damage from the attack.

Ethereal step

At 7th level, you learn to step through the Ethereal Plane. As a bonus action on your turn, you can cast the Etherealness spell with this feature, without expending a spell slot, but the spell ends at the end of the current turn.

Spells

Level 1 spells

hunters mark

ensnaring strike

protection from good and evil

2nd level spells

misty step

healing spirit

magic weapon

Proficient Skills

perception

insight

stealth

athletics

Languages

elvish

common

dwarvish

*this also seems pretty generic but I believe it fits him best. He is sort of the hero in the series.

And that's all! I hope you guys like what I've written. Tell me what you guys think because I'm curious!

Tags: @iamcautiouslyoptimistic @argella1300

#modernwarfare2 #modern warefare 2 #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #modern warfare #au #dnd au #dnd!141 #simon ghost riley #call of duty #captain john price #john soap mactavish #kyle gaz garrick

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bonezone44 · 11 months

Text

Muddy Waters, pt. 1 (18+)

'Limewash'

Ezra x F!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: You live with Ezra in Jackson. Joel and Ezra are sometimes partnered for patrol. He doesn't trust Ezra. He doesn't trust you, either, by association, and because you don't have a job. When you finally meet him, he's even less certain than before.

Word Count: 3,5k

next: part 2 (story masterlist) (my masterlist)

tags: NSFW 18+ (not graphic yet). Intuitive!Reader. Afab!Reader (she/they). Southern!Reader. Established Ezra x F!Reader. Pet names: baby. Eventual smut. Eventual cuckold. Eventual threesome (maybe?). Ezra Enjoying Violence. No use of Y/N.

Author's Note: so this is happening. I'm not fighting it and just letting the story come out. Also doing paintings for them because I gotta. I've been reading so much amazing smut recently, this was bound to come out sooner or later. I'm thankful to @toxicanonymity and @walkintotheriveranddisappear for sharing their amazing work and inspiring my own.

=================================

An irritatin’ snake.

That’s how Joel saw Ezra.

For starters, the man talked too goddamn much. Drove him goddamn crazy when they were out on patrol or in and taking care of the horses. Fucker always had something to say about something and it rode every last nerve Joel had left in his aching body.

Secondly, he was so charming that Joel found it disconcerting. Ezra could make everyone around him smile and feel special. At the Tipsy Bison, when Ezra drank enough to turn his ears pink and his eyes blurry–there’d still be a flirtatious grin plastered on his face. Hell, people loved the man even more when he was drinking. He would finally stop talking so much and listen for once.

But that didn’t mean he was quiet.

Ezra was what people would call an ‘active listener.’ He’d stare into the eyes of whoever was speaking like they were the only other person in the world. He’d follow along real intently, nodding his head, and asking follow-up questions as if he was damn near desperate to learn the answers. He would laugh real loud at any little pun or joke. Shit, he would make even the dullest Jackson had to offer feel like they were a goddamn movie star.

Goddamn! It annoyed the hell out of Joel.

Because thirdly, and most importantly, they didn’t see Ezra’s twitchy fingers or shaking legs when they were alone at night, circling outside the town on horseback. They didn’t see the shift in his face when he would gun down infected–something sick and excited dancing through him. It was even worse when raiders would show up. Ezra looked downright horny. He’d stroke his gun like it was his own cock blasting holes in people’s heads.

One time, Ezra killed a man and then turned to Joel with a grunt and said, “Doesn’t that feel divine?” He dragged out the word ‘divine’ like he was scraping up poker winnings–slow, indulgent, and haughty.

“Not s’posed to feel good,” Joel chided.

He gave Joel a boyish grin. “Which makes the taste of it that much more ambrosial, don’t it?” He hummed and stared at the barrel of his rifle. “It is an effusive pleasure to be a batter for the winning team.”

Joel scoffed. “Winnin’ ain’t a sure thing.”

Ezra huffed. “I must riposte, brother. We may succumb to a battle or two, but Jackson is winning the long game.”

Joel always twitched when Ezra would call him ‘brother.’ That serpent would never be his kin. “You don’t know that.”

“Sure I do,” Ezra began with his shoulders back and chin high. “Look at history. Look at evolution. Our species thrives with the efforts of cooperation and cohabitation.” He huffed. “And Jackson’s community grows stronger every day.” A gloved finger rose into the air. “Now stay with me for a moment while I explain this.” He paused for dramatic effect to which Joel made no response. “But I believe God sent the fungal plague to start us anew and on an upwardly path.”

Joel’s lip twitched.

“Better the cordyceps than nuclear warheads, in my opinion.”

Joel glared that much harder.

Ezra held up his palms. “You know as well as I that we were gonna end ourselves on way or another.” He shrugged his shoulder and flicked his head. “At least this way, the earth is still fecund enough for us to plant our virile seed.” Ezra’s left eyebrow curled upward as he chuckled to himself.

Joel huffed all frustrated and leaned forward, resting his elbow on the saddle horn. “How the hell does that make Jackson the winnin team?”

“Raiders are individualistic,” he answered with confidence. “And individualism is a remnant of the old world. Individualism. Capitalism. Monotheism.” He held his palm out wide. “We are evolving beyond it.” He gazed at the dead raider on the ground between them before pointing to it with his rifle. “We’re putting down the dying breeds to secure resources for our symbiotic comrades.” He looked up at Joel again. “And please–” he raised his empty palm. “--do not mistake my analogy for eugenics.” The empty palm found his heart. “We’re killing ideals, not controlling gene pools.”

Joel’s brows shot up. “Are you trying to say that we only killed that man’s hopes and dreams?” He pointed to the body with a thick, gloved finger. “That we didn’t just kill off his family tree?”

“I–” Ezra’s brow furrowed as he solemnly observed the deceased. His lips went tight. “Shit.” He watched the blood soak into the soil. “I guess we are doing a little bit of both, aren’t we?” He looked back up at Joel with that cheerful, boyish smile again.

Joel clenched his teeth. “You gotta be shittin’ me.” He grabbed the reins and tugged his horse back toward the main path.

Ezra held out his arms, gun barrel aimed at the clouds. “No philosophy is perfect, brother. It evolves just as we do on our ascension toward greater realms.”

Joel stopped humoring Ezra after that.

Now you…

Joel wasn’t too sure about you, either. You didn’t have an exact job as far as Joel could tell. You were never on any of the rotations. When he asked Tommy about it in passing, Tommy only said that you ‘contributed in your own way.’

“If you took the time to get to know her, you’d understand,” said Maria.

“Dude, she just gets it,” said Ellie.

Buncha bullshit if you asked Joel.

There was no reason for you to be wandering the town every day without a care in the world, smiling like the sun shined outta your ass and everyone should be kissing you for it. Anytime he did see you in a storefront or at the stables, you weren’t doing anything special. Just… visiting with whoever was doing all the real work.

Like some kinda lazy ass.

He wondered if you were just like Ezra: charming people around you while something twisted boiled underneath.

Were you just as bloodthirsty?

No.

Couldn’t be.

You never ventured beyond the safety of Jackson’s walls and he never saw you arguing with anyone–let alone get into some kinda physical altercation. You seemed pretty happy most of the time. And downright jubilant when you had a few drinks at the bar.

(One time, he saw you gather up a group of women to sit around and play hand games. Hand games. At a goddamn bar. You were singing songs and clapping and even convinced Maria to join and teach everyone the songs that she could remember, too. He couldn’t believe his eyes. Grown women regressing into little girls–and under the influence to boot. There was so much screaming and laughing that the whole bar nearly emptied. Anyone not in on the fun didn’t wanna be anywhere near it. The whole thing bombarded the senses. And then Ellie came home a few days later, clapping her hands and singing the same songs. Joel almost kicked her out the house.)

Were you some kind of a crook? Were you gaining the trust of the people in town as some kind of long con?

It was possible, though unlikely.

And to what end?

You and Ezra seemed so invested. Not just in planting roots for yourselves, but invested in the town in general. Ezra was at every town meeting, offering his opinion and joining the group discussions. Joel never attended himself, but he would hear about it from either Tommy or Maria.

That was another thing! Tommy and Maria liked Ezra, too! They admitted he was ‘interesting’, but couldn’t find any real fault in him.

One night, Joel confronted Tommy about him.

Joel’s eyes got real wide. “Something’s wrong with that man.”

Tommy laughed. “Everybody’s got somethin wrong with them.”

“You know what I mean.” Joel punctuated his remark with a sneer. Like he was saying something he really meant.

“Look.” Tommy sighed. “I don’t know how to put this, but his wife or partner or however they like to call it–she’s a good influence on him. Keeps him settled, I guess.” He sighed again. “Like… you and Tess,” Tommy added hesitantly.

Joel huffed and clenched his teeth. There was no way. He and Tess were–they were–he and Tess were nothing like Ezra and his ladyfriend. Simple fact. He just didn’t know how to prove it, yet.

For all Joel’s pondering and curiosities–he finally got his chance to talk to you.

You were walking by one morning while he was on his porch drinking coffee. You smiled and waved, he answered by raising his brows at you. But then you stopped dead in your tracks and pointed past him.

“Are those new shutters?” you asked, face all screwed up and confused.

Joel turned his head to see. Even though this was his house. He knew the shutters you were talking about. He turned back to you. “Uhh… yep.”

“When did you put ‘em up?”

Joel’s body tensed. “Last week.”

“Wow. I walk by here every day. I don’t remember even seeing you workin on ‘em.” You shook your head. “How long did it take?” You weren’t smiling or sunny when you asked him, either. You looked downright offended for some reason that Joel couldn’t quite figure.

“Couple days,” he answered with tight lips. He wasn’t sure where your questions were trying to take him.

“Well, shit.” You put your hands on your hips. “How did I miss all that?” You tilted your head and pointed again. “Did you thin out some paint or is that a real lime wash?”

“‘S a wash,” he said. “Don’t gotta prime it or nothin nowadays.”

“Ohh, okay.” You shrugged. “It looks really good.” And while you were giving him a compliment, your face said ‘meh.’

“Thanks.” He glowed a little in his chest. He could tell that you meant it. That you weren’t just being polite.

And Joel didn’t know what made him say it, but he followed up with, “I did the kitchen table, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he nodded his head back. “C’mere. I’ll show ya.”

Next thing he knew, Joel was talking to you about a country music festival he went to when he was 25. It was just him and his old friend, Andrew. Andrew had bought tickets for them and even secured a sitter for Sarah. They spent the whole weekend sleeping and drinking in the back of his truck, singing songs and saying hi to all the pretty girls that walked by.

And when the story was over, and you both said your good-byes, Joel felt more confused than anything. He held a glass of water in his hand. His throat had gone dry. He wasn’t used to speaking that much, because, yeah, Joel just spoke a lot. A lot a lot. More than he’d spoken in years maybe.

And he felt good. Real good. Like a high flutter in his chest that got him all excited to go out and do something. Do something fun just for the fun of it.

But… why?

All he did was show you some work he’d done on the house. Then he saw his guitar and talked about playing again. Then that turned into talking about the music he liked. Then somehow he remembered that festival. Clear as day. After not thinking about it for over two decades.

And all you did was listen.

You just visited.

But it got him all excited. Like he was a little boy making a new best friend.

But… how?

Joel couldn’t make sense of it. And he didn’t have anyone to talk to about it either.

He didn’t like that something so simple could feel so good. He didn’t like that you didn’t do any of the talking. He was supposed to figure you out. Figure out you and Ezra. But this just made him even more confused.

You didn’t listen like Ezra did–all hyped up and dramatic. You made a comment here or there, but nothing significant enough to recall. And you barely asked him any follow up questions.

But you smiled when he said something nice. Chuckled when he said something funny. It was like you were water–rippling out and taking shape in whatever manner he needed you to. Whatever kept the words flowing out of his dry, creaky throat.

But people weren’t water. People were people. They had opinions and wants and needs. And no one could be that easy going, that passive, that submissive without expecting something in return.

Joel needed to figure you out. He just needed to figure out how to figure you out.

+++++++

Now that Joel had officially met you, he couldn’t find you anywhere. He stopped seeing you walking around town. He stopped seeing you in the storefronts. You weren’t around during mealtimes or at the bar at night, either. It was like you up and vanished.

He knew nothing bad had happened. It was a small town. Word traveled fast. If anything had gone wrong, he’d have heard about it an hour later. Two hours, tops. And Ezra would certainly not be walking around so cheerily.

The whole thing was making him all sick in the stomach. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, worrying about you, looking for you. He made to ask Tommy or Maria, but the words never breached his lips. It felt wrong. Like he was gonna expose something about himself that he didn’t want them to know.

If he had known where you lived, he would have shown up at your house. Shit, the man even tried to follow Ezra home a couple of times–lurking in the shadows, stepping real light. But there was always something ruining his efforts. A loud tumble of cans falling over behind the general store. A small group of drunks walking by and talking loud. A goddamn dog barking at him.

Shit.

It pained him–greatly, he might add–but he knew what he had to do.

He had to talk to Ezra.

Joel waited until they were paired up again for patrol–well, no. That’s not true. He switched shifts with someone to hurry it all up. But nevertheless, he waited until they were alone and out of earshot of anyone else, lest they get the wrong idea about Joel. He was just wondering about her. That’s all. Nothing untoward about it.

Joel cleared his throat, trotting alongside Ezra in the bright light of the full moon. “How’s your uh… ladyfriend doin?”

“Ladyfriend, huh?” Ezra teased. “I like that word. I don’t know how I ever forgot about that one.”

Joel rolled his eyes.

Ezra chuckled. “She’s doin alright.”

Joel slid his jaw side to side. “Haven’t seen her around in a while.”

“Yeah, she gets like that sometimes,” Ezra murmured.

“Is-is somethin wrong? Did somethin happen?” Joel asked, concern evident on his brow.

Ezra’s eyes found Joel. He sized him up as they made their way around the north end of the woods. After what felt to Joel like twenty fuckin minutes, Ezra looked away and sighed. “Look,” he said. “There is no need for you or anyone else to worry–”

“Worry ‘bout what?” Joel’s heart raced in his chest. His hands gripped tight around the reins, leather gloves squeaking. He’d go straight back to town if he had to–patrol protocol be damned.

“She has this feeling that someone is looking for her.”

Joel blinked. “What?”

Ezra sighed again. “She gets the feelings sometimes and sometimes she has misread her notions and sometimes they are accurate.” He stared off. “Disconcertingly accurate, to be honest with you.”

“Once,” Ezra began. “In our early days together, I got shot in my arm.” He pointed to his right bicep. “It wasn’t direct, but it wasn’t a slug, either.” He laughed and shook his head. “This asshole in a fuckin 49er’s cap was firing buckshot.” He looked at Joel with wide eyes. “Can you believe that shit? Buckshot. And the 49ers? Who in the hell liked the 49ers?” He huffed and wiped his mouth. “Now this all transpired down in Louisiana where I was born and raised. At the time, we were somewhere a little east of Houma, which if you don’t know, is mired in swamps and bayous and just… water, water everywhere.” Ezra gazed through the thick of evergreens, sucking fresh air through his nose. “And I was not thinkin clearly at the time.” He rolled his shoulders, eyes blank in disbelief. “Maybe it was the oppressive summer heat or the unrelenting humidity, but I washed the wound with some contaminated water.” He sighed. “As soon as I unveiled my hardship to her, she took one look and said, ‘We’re going to LSU.’” He shrugged. “That’s all,” he said. “And I can remember thinkin to myself, ‘LSU? Where the hell did that idea come from?’ We had been trying to go back east. I wanted to keep trekkin towards Florida, hopin we might find some help along the way, but she told me no. Said we had to go north. Go get our purple and gold on, I suppose.” He grimaced. “We walked a day straight. Now I mean that.” He stressed his words with widened eyes. “Twenty four hours of walkin. No little catnaps under the shady oak trees or dippin our toes into the creek.” He took a deep breath. “A whole day.” He exhaled laboriously.

“And I… started gettin feverish toward the end of our journey.” He closed his eyes. “I could feel every little pellet as it pulsed and bulged with pus beneath my skin.” He shuddered and opened his eyes. “I thought I was gonna start devolving into the Thing. Thought I was gonna have to strap dynamite to my torso and blow myself into smithereens.” He threw his arm up, exasperated. “She wouldn’t let me search any of the Eckerds or pharmacies we passed. Wouldn’t let me stop walkin neither.” He laughed dryly and sighed. “We make it to the LSU campus. We walk up to the gates.” He threw his arm up again. “And those people took us right in. No questions asked.” It was a good thing, but Ezra sounded so frustrated. “Got me cleaned and bandaged. They fed us.” He shook his head. “They even gave us each a new pair of shoes. Nike’s.” He looked in Joel in whole-hearted disbelief. “Swoosh on ‘em and everything.” He huffed out a laugh. “She just knew. She knew where to go and how to get us in. Didn’t need a map. We were out and exposed, walkin along the main roads. And when we got there, she spoke to the doctors and got me a change of clothes, too.” He chuckled. “She slept about a week straight after all of it was said and done, though. Poor thing could barely stay awake long enough to eat.” He hummed. “She had exhausted her mind, body, and soul to get me to where I needed to go.” He smiled with tender warmth. “I am forever grateful to her for that.”

“Sh-she just… knew?” Joel asked.

“She just knew.”

“Y-you think she’s right this time, too?”

Ezra threw his head back and laughed. “Now, she is resolute to be right and true this time.” He grinned. “Her worries are beginnin to snake themselves into my mind, as well.” He turned to Joel with a playful smirk. “Past few days I could have sworn someone was following me in town.” He shook his head, still smiling. “But I know there’s no real danger in Jackson and the daily reports offer nothing of significance. I am inclined to believe that she has misread her notions again.” He sniffed. “‘Cause the real danger–” He pointed to the words with his chin. “The real danger is all out here.” He narrowed his eyes as his breaths grew heavy.

Joel watched as Ezra gripped the horn of his saddle with both hands, leather gloves twisting and creaking. He lewdly rolled his hips into the rise of his seat with a grunt.

Ezra turned back to Joel with a devilish grin–leaning toward him with slack shoulders. “Let’s go kill us some infected, brother.” He bit his lip before turning and trotting deeper into the trees.

Joel sucked his teeth. “Sick fuck,” he said under his breath and followed.

+++++

The following morning, Ezra woke you up on the couch after returning home from patrol. He pet your shoulder while you laid wrapped in your blanket.

“Hey, baby,” he whispered.

“Hey,” you mumbled with your eyes closed.

“How you feelin?”

“Like shit.”

“I’m sorry, baby,” he cooed.

You didn’t move. Only grunted.

“Guess who was askin’ after you?”

You grunted again.

“Joel Miller.”

‘Joel Miller?’ you thought. ‘Why?’

Then it clicked.

Fear left your mind and body and was quickly replaced with fury.

You shot up with a gasp. “Oh my god!” you shouted.

“What?” Ezra reeled back with his palms up in surrender. “What?”

“That’s who’s been lookin for me!” You balled up your blanket with righteous anger and hopped up from the couch. You threw the tangled wool fabric to the floor. The fact that it was too soft to make a sound when it hit the wood just pissed you off even more.

“Him?” Ezra’s eyes glittered, a small smile on his lips.

You squeezed your fists tight. “That motherfucker!”

+++++

-----

part 2

(story masterlist)

(my masterlist)

#ezra x reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #ezra x reader x joel miller #my art #muddy waters series

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