#my teeth. all over him. my tongue. same. my lips. obviously. my hands. i mean.

[casmybelovedass]

My last post wasn't enough. I need more

[whimsicalpolitical]

kindly requesting a matty fic/blurb with him & reader fully clothed fucking in a dingy stairwell 😁

thank you for your request!! had to write immediately because this is super hot. mdni 18+

This should be disgusting.

The walls are grainy, gray painted wood, same as the outside of the apartment building. You know this because even through your shirt, you can feet it, scratching and snagging at the fabric.

It is stuffy, here in the stairwell, still outside, though sheltered from a muggy summer rain. Matty’s eyes are and glow rather strangely in the dim. You don’t even care about the lightning, not with lips at your throat, burning into your skin in ways you’d dreamed about the whole night.

Ever since Matty has been growing out his curls he got hotter day by day. Today has been especially hard, having to look at him in front of everyone knowing that you can’t drop to your knees.

That’s why you tried to be subtle about touching Matty. Tugging at his hands to make him stay behind until people were gone, to have one last kiss. Begging him to keep kissing you until he pulls away, ‘what are you on about’ he said with a big grin on his face.

You couldn’t possibly tell him in that moment. But the next agonizing hour Matty realized that you were so turned on. Your cheeks flushed, your thighs clenching and you can’t stop staring at him.

That’s how you ended up in here. In the stairwell of a good friend of Matty and you, your back pressed against the wall and Matty hovering over you, his hands roaming over your body.

“Want to tell me why you’ve been giving me ‘fuck me eyes’ the whole evening?” He mumbles, still sucking at your neck.

You shake your head with a giggle, grabbing his neck to find his lips on yours again. His tongue slips through your lips and battles with yours, obviously having the upper hand.

“No?” He asks, pulling back, “s’ a shame, I thought you could use your words f’me.”

He lets his hands begin to wander, mapping the shape of your waist through the material of your dress. “I can give you anything you want, but I need you to open your sweet mouth.”

Matty swoops a hand down around the curve of your ass towards the back of your thigh, the motion smooth and leading to the lift of your leg around his waist. He steps closer still, head bent down to kiss you again as he slowly rocks his hips between your parted thighs, showing you just how horny he is for you as well.

The pressure of his cock against your core even while blocked by layers of clothing makes you want to tear the jeans jacket from his body. Instead, you curl your fingers into the fabric and hold on, lips parted and tongues meeting, following the subtle motion of his length grinding against your cunt.

“Fuck,” you sigh into his mouth, “I’m just so glad you’re letting your hair grow, and your mustache is just,” you groan, licking your lips as your fingers with his hair under his nose. “You’re fucking hot.”

Matty laughs at your reaction, “that’s what’s got you all excited? My hair growth?”

You nod, “I can’t wait to tug at your curls,” you say this so innocently but you both know you mean to tug at his curls when he’s devouring you. The past weeks you had to hold on to the sheets instead of his hair, and it didn’t have the same effect.

“You want to do that, yeah? Want to keep me in place by pulling my hair ‘cause it doesn’t work anymore. Can’t control me anymore, s’that it?”

A whine slips from your lips as he reads you like a book. Your head falls forward, into the crook of his neck, hiding your flushed cheeks.

“I knew it,” his fingers pull at your hair now, your face in front of his as he grabs your chin to make sure you can’t pull away, “filthy girl.”

“Matty,” your voice is barely above a whisper. “Please.”

“What?” He asks, lifting his eyebrows, “want me to do something?”

He doesn’t leave you any room for an answer, his attention back to your neck and your chest, his lips and teeth alike tugging at your skin with a bit of suction or a bite that leaves you whimpering. You don’t think you’d need to see a mirror to know that blooms of color had to be littered across your skin, giggling lightly as he sears another bruise into your flesh with the heat of his mouth.

“Got a thing for hickeys, don’t you?”

“Only from you.”

“That’s right,” he grins, “decided to not be a brat f’ one night tonight?”

You shake your head, “I’m always good.”

“Fuck,” he laughs, “you’re definitely not, even tonight you’re begging me to fuck you in a dirty stairwell. Lucky for you I won’t be real mean.”

His mouth reaches the edge of your dress, nipping at your cleavage before his tongue teases along the line where the fabric meets your skin, wanting to taste more of you.

You’re craving his mouth on the most intimate parts of you, fingers pulling the top of your dress aside to reveal your breast to him completely, so glad you’d chosen a dress that hadn’t required a bra.

“Fucks sake.”

The cuss sounds appraising, further compliments paid to your skin by the stroke of his tongue against your nipple, back arching when his teeth closes around the tender peak. You lock your upraised leg tighter around his waist, holding on without a need for the steadying grip of his hand and he uses the freedom it provided him to cup your breast, head turning to the other, exposed with another urgent tug of your own fingers exposing yourself to him. His hips reared back, just enough to give his other hand space, angling under your skirt to rub you through the damp material of your underwear, lips moving back to yours when he felt how warm and ready you’d become.

“You’re drenched, love.”

He slips his fingers past the waistband of the thin garment, needing to touch you directly, and the groan he lets out is evidence of his approval, his delight to feel how slick your cunt is, digits dragging the wet of you across your clit. It swells beneath his fingers, shudders of growing pleasure making you thrust your hips towards his hand, begging for more until you felt one long digit easing into you.

“You’re really pushing my ego, bet I could slide right inside, without having to prepare you.”

A second finger has you leaning forward to bite into the denim that covers his shoulder, trying to stay quiet for the concern that your moans would echo in the stairwell and lead someone to find out what the two of you were doing.

Even with a slow pump, palm pressing and cradling your clit, you felt close to delirious with pleasure, unable to think of anything else other than how much you want him to give you his cock soon.

You reach for the front of his denim jeans, feeling the cool metal of the chain dangling from his belt against the back of your hand, fingers undoing the buckle with a clumsy urgency. Matty doesn’t stop you, lifting his head from your kiss-marked breasts to look you in the eye as you work his pants open, brows furrowing when you delve beyond the band of his underwear to wrap your fingers around his cock, length twitching against your palm.

“Jesus christ,” he groans throwing his head back, his fingers still pumping in and out of you, “bless you n’ your pretty hand.”

“Matty,” you moan again, feeling as if you’re very close.

Matty feels thick in your hand but he always fills you up so well without discomfort, the way he curves promising so much pleasure once he was deep inside.

You watch his eyes close for a moment when you give his shaft a firm squeeze followed by a slow upward stroke. You feel a small pearl of precum crowning the tip of his length, but it isn’t enough to properly lubricate the touch you desire to give him, leaving you to consider other ways to make him feel good.

“Hm?”

Reaching down for his wrist, you gave a soft tug to ease his fingers away, Matty relenting with a look of confusion and though your core feels so empty with the loss of his touch, the pleasant curling of his digits making you wetter still, you have other things you want him to do. He leads his hand upward, eyes darting from his coated fingers to his mouth.

He flashes you a pleased smirk and makes a slow show of sucking each finger clean one at a time, grin growing wider at the way you shiver in response to his apparent delight. He even licks his lips once he is done, further showcasing just how much he relishes the flavor of you on his tongue.

“Taste so fucking good, darling,” he groans, “why’d you stop though hm? Wanted to make you feel good.”

“You do make me feel good, need you though,” You say, fiddling your hand in his pocket to look for his wallet. “Wanted you the whole night.”

“Bet you did,” he says, helping you by taking the wallet from your hand and pulling a condom out faster than you would’ve done it. “Don’t think I won’t properly fuck you when we get home.”

You shiver, knowing that you’ll try different positions after Matty’s done with eating you out.

“Pull your panties down,” he orders, ripping the condom open and rolling it down his length while your panties rest on your lower thighs.

The touch of his cock brushing against your tender slit had you sighing in relief, eyes closing as Matty pushes in just enough for you to become a puddled mess. His hands are moving to grip your hips just so he can lead you back as he oh so slowly presses himself forward.

“I fucking love your cunt, baby. Always taking me so good, fuck.”

For a little while, all your prior urgency is forgotten, falling to the wayside with the satisfaction of just being so full, of having Matty leaning over you, to trail kiss and bites along your neck and shoulder.

Matty’s hands on your breasts and between your open legs, stroking the tight bud above the gentle thrust of his cock stretching you out just right is rapturous. You want more, faster and harder.

“Matty, please.” You moan, gripping his broad shoulders to signalizes him you want him to fuck you.

“Don’t be a beg,” he teases, but at the same time thrusts inside you harder before moving almost all the way out and slamming back into you. “Want it like this?”

You nod, your hands all over his bag, not knowing where to steady yourself. That is until Matty takes your hand and leads it into his hair.

“C’mon, try it, knock yourself out.”

You tug at his hair and you moan, louder than you’ve ever moaned tonight. You feel his curls growing and you already have something to grip on.

“Pleased?” He asks and you smile into his mouth, softly biting down his bottom lip.

“Very much.”

“Perfect.”

You moan into his mouth as you enjoy the intensity of him spreading you and filling you. You nip playfully at his lips, rolling your hips forward and back, meeting his long, deep, and demanding thrusts.

“Fuck, right there,” you breathe as he hits a particularly sensitive spot inside you.

Matty’s hands squeeze your ass, helping you move against him fully. Your wet, smooth walls rub against the hard veins on his cock, and you can feel him begin to lose the rhythm.

“Touch yourself f’me,” he says, both hands of his occupied, one hand holding your leg up while the other steadies himself. “C’mon, love, fingers on your clit, do it like I do it.”

You hear him. You trail your fingers over your sensitive bud, rubbing slow circles until you get faster and closer.

“Matty, I- m’ gonna,” you moan as he hits your spot over and over again.

“Yeah? Look at me, love,” he orders, “cum f’me.”

Your mouth gapes open in a silent gasp. You hold him inside you, your walls gripping his cock, before he can no longer delay his own release inside your warmth. With a final thrust, he clutches you to him and with a loud cry that bounces around you in your concrete oasis, his cock pumps and twitches deep within you.

Your head falls forward against his shoulder, your breathing hard and fast. You feel limp and sated, and can only imagine the effort it was taking him to keep you both upright.

With a tender kiss against his neck, you lower your legs to the ground, but you stay tightly wrapped in his arms. He holds you, your ear pressed to his chest, his racing heart against her cheek.

“I don’t think I can ever walk this stairwell without thinking about this,” you give him a small laugh.

“I would hope so, this was mental,” he says, pulling your panties up again, before removing his condom and pulling his pants up as well.

“D’you want to go home?” Matty asks, removing a sweaty strand of hair behind your ear. You shake your head, appreciating that he leaves the choice up to you.

“Let’s stay, enjoy the people for a while?”

“F’course, anything you want, baby.”

He kisses you before heading towards the door, adapting his walking pace to yours when he notices that you can’t properly walk.

“Maybe we should wait for a bit,” he grins, sitting down. “C’mere.” He opens his arms and you take the invitation and sit down onto his lap, your hands finding its way into his hair again.

You’re lifting a few strands and letting them fall back down, watching how they curl. “Thank you for letting your hair grow.”

Matty laughs and you get a squeeze to your thigh. “Yeah, yeah.”

[angstywaifu]

The Reward - Garrick Tavis x Reader

The highly requested Part 2 to I Just Want To Talk To Them. Garrick deserves his own shower scene. Warnings: I know you all know where this is going... But just in case. 18+, smut.

Masterlist

I look around the dining hall. And come up short on the two people I am looking for. The first is the cadet that I had been up against during challenges. He was nowhere to be seen. Not sitting with his squad or usual group of friends. Even they looked worried as their eyes scan the dining hall looking for him.

The second was Garrick. His usual seat next to Xaden with the rest of the leadership was empty. Very obviously empty as Garrick usually took up double the space of anyone else on that table. Xaden’s eyes meet mine. I nod towards Garrick’s empty chair and all he gives me back is a shrug, telling me he doesn’t know where he is either. But by the way he looks at me, it confirms my suspicions. I knew where Garrick was. I knew exactly where it was. And as much as I should be worried for the poor guy on the receiving end, I couldn’t deny I was eagerly awaiting Garrick’s return. No. Garrick’s reward for me. The way he had whispered it in my ear and kissed my cheek had set me on fire. A fire that had not dulled in the hours since he had been gone. My body craved what had been the unspoken reward.

”What’s got you so nervous?” Asks Imogen as she takers her place next to me.

I sigh and shove my plate away. There was no way I was finishing the food on my plate. “I’m worried about where Garrick is.”

She just looks at me and smirks. “No, you’re worried about what he’s done to the other guy.”

I go to reply but the door to the dining hall slams open, the noise echoing around the hall. The usual buzz of conversation gone instantly. I turn to see something that would have everyone else’s blood in the room run cold. But not mine. No, my body floods with desire. His hazel eyes lock onto me instantly. A smirk appearing on his face. A smirk that shows of his white teeth, that are a stark contrast to the red of the blood that is splattered over his face. The same blood that also adorns his hands. But besides the blood, there is not a single mark on Garrick. No cuts, not even a bruise. Meaning none of the blood is his. It all belonged to the other cadet. Garrick walks between the tables, the people he passes shuffling in their seats to get away from him as his steps echo around the eerily quiet hall. Even Imogen who is never phased by anything shuffles away from me as Garrick stops behind me. His hands placed either side of mine on the table as he leans over me, his breathing tickling my neck as places his mouth next to my ear.

”How about I give you you’re reward? Need to show my girl how good she was for giving me his name.” Garrick whispers in my ear before placing a kiss to my jaw.

My body shivers at his kiss, and I know he notices it with the slight chuckle I hear. I turn to look at him and meet his lust filled hazel eyes. No not hazel. Black. His pupils are blown wide that I can barely see any of the hazel in his eyes. I barely nod before Garrick’s arms wrap around me, easily pulling me from my seat before carrying me out of the hall in his arms.

I gasp as my naked back meets the cold stone of the shower wall as Garrick pins me to it, his lips kissing and bitting down my neck before latching on one of my nipples. My fingers tangle in his curly hair as I arch and moan as Garrick’s tongue swirls around the sensitive nub before sucking on it. His fingers dig into the flesh of my thighs as he grinds up into me. My body twitching and the sensation. I wanted. No, I need all of Garrick. I needed him everywhere, and gods was he everywhere. No part of me was left without attention. He kissed and sucked at anything he could get to. His name falling easily from my lips as he mouth finds my other nipple.

”Such a good girl.” He whisper against my chest, as he pins my hands above my head in one of his. “Such a good girl giving me their name. Letting me teach them not to touch what is mine.” The last word coming out as a growl I feel rumble through him as he presses his chest against mine.

Garrick lowers me back down to the ground, turning to start the shower, the cold water hitting my skin causing me to gasp. The cold water was startling against the contrast of how warm I felt. Garrick smirks as if he knows exactly what he had done. No he did. He steps back from me and slowly removes his clothes. Gods was this man attractive. It was like he had been carved from stone. Each muscle was perfectly defined and toned. As my eyes drift lower, my mouth drops open. The girls he had been with had talked, but I always thought they had exaggerated. But they had not. Garrick was big. And he was about to be all mine.

”Like what you see sweetheart?” He asks as he kneels in front of me, placing one of my leg over his shoulder as he slowly kisses from my ankle to my knee, resting his head against my knee as he looks up at me. Still no hint of hazel in his eyes as he looks at me.

”Gods yes.” I spit out way too quickly, earning a chuckle from Garrick.

My body feels like its on fire again as Garrick slowly kisses and bites his way up my thigh. The cool water of the shower doing nothing to subdue the feeling. Garrick hovers just above where I want him to touch him. Need him to touch me. He’s so close that I can feel his breath tickling me. My hips arch off the wall, seeking the touch I want from him. Garrick slowly drags a finger right up my centre before circling my clit, my eyes rolling back into my head at the sensation.

”So needy for me. So desperate.” He muses before his tongue replaces his fingers, licking straight up my centre before dipping back down to probe my entrance.

My hands fly to his hair, gripping his dark curls between my fingers. Our moans fill the room as he licks, probes and sucks. No part left untouched. Garrick grips my thigh tightly before plunging two fingers in without warning. I nearly cum then and there at the sensation, my whole body falling forward. Thank gods Garrick is tall as I brace my hands on his back, my fingers digging into the flesh of his back. I expect Garrick to falter his pace with the movement, but instead it spurs him on as he moans as my fingers grip his back. His fingers set a brutal pace, every so often curling and hitting the one spot that has me seeing stars and nearly collapsing on top of him. I start spasming around his fingers, my breathing becoming heavy and irregular. I whimper as Garrick removes his fingers and mouth from me. I promptly lean back and look down and glare at him as he smirks up at me. His mouth and chin glistening with my arousal.

”Not yet sweet heart. The first time I make you cum it’s going to be around my cock, not my fingers.” He tells me, his voice so husky and rough it has me clenching around nothing.

Garrick stands, easily picking me up with him. As I wrap my legs around his waist I feel his cock prodding at my entrance. I try to sink down onto it, but Garrick holds me firmly just above it. But with just enough contact that every step he takes has the tip slipping up and down, teasing what is about to come. Garrick places me on my feet, pulling me into a quick and rough kiss before spinning me around. In the mirror I can see how blissed out and needy both Garrick and I are. But our eyes look black in the mirror. Both our faces flushed. Garrick grips my hips, pulling me flush against him, his hardness pressing into me.

”Hold on tight sweetheart.” He whispers in my ear, his breath tickling my neck before pushing on my shoulder lightly.

I glance down to see the basin in front of me. Instantly I know what Garrick wants. His smile as I lean forward and grip the sides of the basin is all the confirmation I need. He leans down, placing a kiss to the small of my back before standing back to his full height. One hand resting on my ass, as the other lines him up.

”F-fuck.” I stutter out as Garrick pushes in, stretching me wide.

I knew he was big, but gods did it feel way bigger as he pushed his way inside. Thank gods Garrick was easing me into it. Little by little, Garrick thrusted in an out slowly, each time sinking in that little bit further. I look up in the mirror and watch as he drags his lower lip between his teeth as he watches himself sink deeper and deeper inside me. As he bottoms out inside me, both of us let out a moan that echoes around the bathroom. Thank the gods Garrick put silencing wards up as well as a ward that would only let him or I in and out. No one was interrupting us. Garrick is quick to set a brutal pace as he thrust in and out. I can’t help as my mouth falls open at the sensation of him filling me perfectly. I can tell he feels the same as I grip him tightly.

”God’s it’s like you’re made for me.” He moans out before leaning forward and bracing his hands either side of mine on the counter.

Garrick uses his new angle to reach around, his fingers instantly finding my clit and rubbing circles around it. I can’t even slow the orgasm that rips through me, my knees giving out. But Garrick holds me up easily while his fingers continue to tease my most sensitive spot. I can tell Garrick is doing all he can not to finish with me as my walls clench and spasm around him. My whole body shaking to the point I’m unsure if I will be able to walk out of here without his help.

”Think you can take some more?” He growls out as he kisses his way down my back before standing back up to his full height.

I lift my head up to look at him in the mirror and nod. Gods I wanted more of him even if I could barely hold myself up. Garrick smirks in response as he pulls out, spinning me around and picking me up with ease again. He walks us over to a bench in the middle of the room, laying me down on it. Garrick is quick to place a nearby towel under my head which I’m grateful for as he pushes himself back in and sets a brutal pace. He brings my legs over his shoulders, leaning over me just enough for the new angle to have the gripping and clawing at his arms and torso. Red marks instantly appearing where my fingers and gripped and clawed at his skin. But Garrick doesn’t seem to mind, in fact it seems to spur him on. Each thrust seems to have more and more power behind it. And I know another orgasm won’t be far away with the angle and the pace Garrick is setting. Every so often one of Garrick’s thrusts will falter ever so slightly, letting me know he isn’t far off as well. I watch as Garrick’s gaze flickers from me back over to the shower where we started, where we had left the water running. A small smile graces Garrick’s lips before he dips down and presses a quick kiss to my lips before picking me up and walking us back towards the shower. The entire time he keeps inside me, each step making him rub against that perfect spot. He angles us before reaching over to adjust the water temperature. I brace myself for the the cold water from earlier, but I’m instead met with warm water that has me relaxing into Garrick’s arms. But it’s short lived before the familiar stone meets my back, and my hands are pinned above my head again. Just like we started. Garrick kisses up my neck, leaving small marks in his wake. Before kissing up my jaw and capturing my lips in his. Compared to before, his pace is more careful and slowly. His cock dragging slowly in and out of me, my body trembling around Garrick at the sensation. It was such a start contrast to before, but as he breaks away from the kiss and rests his forehead against mine, his eye’s look different. Still blown out and filled with lust and passion. But something else laid there. So many things left unspoken in them. I respond by tangling my fingers in his damp curls and pull him into a kiss which he responds to immediately. Our tongues fighting for dominance as his pace picks back up. Garrick growls in frustration, clearly not happy with the pace an angle. He stands back from the wall, and lowers me to the ground. Spinning me around again, but instead of a basin to grip onto I have a wall to brace myself against. As soon as my hands meet the stone wall Garrick thrusts into me, my head almost hitting the wall with the force as Garrick sets the most brutal pace yet. Clearly chasing his release this time. Profanities fall from both our lips and echo around the room. Garrick’s hand loosely grips my neck, pulling my back flush against his hips. Instantly my walls flutter around him, my release close.

”That’s it sweetheart. Be a good girl and cum one more time. Cum with me sweetheart. Can you do that?” He growls into my ear as he kisses just under my jaw.

”Y-yes.” I barely stutter out.

”Good girl.” He growls as the grip he has on my neck tightens slightly, his other hand reaching down and rubbing my most sensitive spot.

Instantly I scream his name as my body shakes and convulses. Garrick’s arms being the only thing keeping my upright as my body goes limp and my knees give out. I vaguely register Garrick swearing in my ear before his thrusts become erratic and falter, and I feel his release sliding down my thighs as he thrusts in and out of me as we both ride out our orgasm’s. Garrick hold’s me tightly against him as he lowers us to the ground and leans up against the cold stone wall and tucks me under his chin as he cradles me against his chest. His hands caressing my back and legs as we sit under the warm water and catch our breaths. I feel his lips press against my hair before he rests his head against mine, letting the warm water run over us as we enjoy each other’s embrace.

[dragon-watcher03]

Halooo! Sorry if what I ask bothers you but can you make Havik (MK1) content? It doesn't have to be something gory or NSFW but I seriously love that character and I love how you write! Thanks in advance 🖤

I FUCKING LOVE HAVIK-

MK1 Havik x Reader

Headcanons and Intro dialogues

Note: I absolutely love Havik so this was a blast to make. The reader is an Empress in this situation. They work for Liu Kang are aware that he created this timeline. Enjoy <3

So, obviously, he is not your average lover. No, he is much more chaotic, and he would prefer a lover who can calm him down and enjoy the chaos with him. He'd also like a partner who's a little messed up too.

He would be kinda soft around you in private though, and he lets you call him Dairou. He turns from a bloodthirsty lion to a clingy kitten in the span of 5 seconds. He'll never let that side see the light of day unless he knows you both are alone, he has a reputation after all. That doesn't mean he doesn't like PDA, he just doesn't like being vulnerable around others he doesn't trust.

Since he has no lips, you either kiss his teeth, he gives you kitten licks all over your face, or he just shoves his tongue down your throat. And if you're wearing lipstick, leave kiss marks on his teeth and all over his face. He becomes putty in your hands and his pupils turn into hearts.

He loves seeing you covered in the blood of your enemies after battle, he wouldn't let you shower unless he ravages you while in that state. He thinks you look 100x hotter when you're covered in blood. He especially loves blood on your thighs so he can lick it up when he's about to go down on you.

He likes cuddling. Specifically with you on his lap and him wrapping his arms around you and squeezing you tightly (but not too tight). He just loves feeling you against him, plus he's touched starved. Sometimes his cuteness aggression gets the best of him and he'll squeeze you tightly and bite your cheek/neck.

He also likes when you leave marks on him, so he'll never heal them so you'll forever be engraved into his skin. Hurt him as much as you like, he loves it. He would never hurt you, however, you don't have the same regeneration as he does. Most he'll do is hickeys, and so he leaves a lot of them. A lot.

Intro dialogues

Havik: I never thought I'd bend a knee to another being.

Y/n: That all went downhill last night, love.

Havik: You and Liu Kang seem to have a history...

Y/n: chuckles We're just friends, Dairou.

Havik: You are an Empress, yet you work for Liu Kang.

Y/n: He's the reason we even met in the first place, I gotta repay him somehow.

Y/n: You've been getting soft during our spars.

Havik: Only the Devil himself would leave even a scratch on such a precious angel.

Y/n: Those red lines on your back are pretty obvious, don't you think?

Havik: Any scar made by you stays on my body, no matter how visible.

Y/n: You would kill for me?

Havik: I would die for you, my angel.

[summercourtship]

Vulpes x Courier with prompt 6 PLEEEEAAAASE!

She’s Courier Six and his initials are VI which means six so obviously it was meant for them!!!!

SORRY i know i said i’d finish other requests first but this one just needed to be written ASAP. You completely understand my headspace right now, anon. (also can't believe I've never made the 6-VI connection.....).

Touch. | Vulpes x Courier + Prompt 6 (18+) | 2nd Person POV

warnings: references to the Legion's attitudes towards women, a brief moment of degradation but it's like silly I guess | 666 words Guess inspired prompt list | send me a character + number for a 100-500 word drabble

You didn’t like Vulpes. It’s what you told yourself every time you saw him. You even told him as much, during the brief moment that you’d separated from the heated kiss he’d pressed against you as soon as the door clicked shut. Your wrists were pinned above your head with one of his hands, the other gripping your hip tightly. He’d simply chuckled in response to your murmurs of hate, like he always did whenever you found yourself under his touch. 

The hand on your hip found its way to the front of your body, slipping beneath the hem of both your pants and your underwear. His fingers, somehow cold despite the constant heat of the Mojave, slipped between your legs and dragged across your folds, collecting the wetness that had already accumulated there. He hummed, amused. 

“I’ve barely touched you yet you’re already so wet for me?” 

“It’s not for you, it’s just…” You tried to scoff, only for his fingers to press up against your clit, your own moan cutting you off. The distraction was good, though, because you didn’t actually have an excuse. There was no real reason why you were practically soaked already, aside from the fact that almost every time you ran into Vulpes this exact same thing happened and your body knew it. From the moment he had approached you as you sat at the counter in The Tops, with that familiar over-confident gleam in his eyes, you were done for. “Shut up, asshole.”

He licked a wet stripe up your neck, pausing to smile against your skin at your half-hearted insult. 

“I can leave.” He said, his breath hitting your ear, and even though you knew he was lying through his teeth (like always) you still reacted, reaching down to grab his wrist before he could remove it. 

“No.” 

Vulpes hummed again but listened, his slowly warming hand still between your legs. He pulled back from your neck, looking down his nose at you. Something in his eyes shifted, a familiar cold glint that acted as a precursor to his favorite game. 

“Beg.” 

It was how he liked to play with you- slowly siphoning away any power you held, taking full control over your encounters. You knew he fantasized about you belonging to him (in one way or another) and that he fully expected it to happen when the Hoover Dam fell to the Legion (because he also expected that to happen, though you disagreed). 

But right now, with his fingers so close to where you needed his touch, you had no reservations about complying with him. (Though after the fact, you always wondered if indulging him like this was smart or if it was all going to bite you in the ass one day.) Just to mess with him, though, you pretended as if you were going to tell him to fuck off, rolling your eyes and huffing before looking at him with half-lidded eyes. 

“Please touch me. Fuck me with your fingers, your tongue, your cock, just please make me come.” You bit your lip, watching as his eyes dipped to stare at it before they snapped back to meet your eyes. “I need you, Vulpes.”    

He may pretend that making you beg was only to put you in your place and served no other purpose, but you saw the flush on his pale cheeks and the way his breath caught at hearing you ask him so nicely. Despite whatever he may say, about how he was only fucking you because he didn’t want to debase himself with the women at the Fort and was only using you as a means of release, you saw right through him. He wanted you, just as much and just as carnally as you wanted him.

And then he had to go and open his mouth again, sighing like it was a chore for him. 

“I suppose I can indulge the profligate whore.” “And yet, your fingers are down my pants.”

[katsukikitten]

Again inspired by the kween Marqi kisses for her

You run your tongue across your teeth as you watch your hulking, way too nice boyfriend grab something from the top shelf for a shorter woman.

Which normally his kindness was a turn on for you, it still is because you know you should be a kinder person like him, especially to strangers but there was a line to be drawn when it came to manipulators. One your sweet nerd of a boyfriend obviously didn't see.

The woman was pretty, had assumed you in all black with your 90s pig tails and two front strands was here all by yourself. Moody makeup would obviously clash with the man's soft freckles and warm sunshine smile. As if you were a thundercloud rolling in to dampen the summer day.

Watching her ask for help but not really even wanting whatever the fuck was on the top shelf. Not moving as she made attempt after attempt to reach the item to show that she couldn't, trying to seem helpless and make her ass bigger at the same time.

Hoping he'd do that thing where he presses his strong body against hers, that his shirt would ride up and show the beauty mark or two that adorned his Adonis belt and that maybe, if the girl was lucky, she could feel him growing hard against her ass.

Your sharp black claws bite into your skin, counting down from ten, starting over when you get to eight six times over before you can even imagine to get down to five.

He doesn't do as the random girl wishes, if anything he stands a good distance apart, reaching from the side to grab the canned item that conflicts with her very organic and fresh vibe her hand basket was going for. Her embarrassment is evident and quick after she asks a question. Watching Izuku's body language turn to apologetic as he bows his head of wavy dark emerald curls before tilting it towards you.

Watching horror cross her features as you grip the cart filled with food for your shared apartment with a white knuckled grip. Yet still the jealousy burns hot in your stomach, clawing at your heart until it was ripped to shreds.

This was exactly why you dated mean ones, the golden retriever types made you feel crazy.

Wholly possessive.

Still he comes over with his disarming smile letting his thumb swipe over your cheek. Letting his emerald eyes stare down at your signature shego top lip, fixing his dark green flannel you threw on to fight the cold in your dark leggings and t-shirt.

A glint in his eyes that darkens further proving that maybe your sweet boy wasn't as innocent as he claimed to be. Leaning over to press his lips to yours, hiding your lipstain that morning so the dark creamy makeup could stick to his lips.

Softly whispering into your ear, knowing he didn't have any ill intentions or was trying to make you jealous despite his next words. In fact he didn't think anything of helping that woman until he saw that look of anger in your eyes that made his cock throb with need when he made his way back to the cart.

"Now you know how I feel when the mean ones flirt with you." Voice darkening as he adds, "Like they could ever make my mean girl smile like I can. Scream like I can."

Then he moves away, with a bright smile on his face after he pops his lips to even out the black pigment from yours. No longer the dark looming man he was just seconds ago.

"Come on baby, we still have to get cake to bring to the party."

[wynnyfryd]

By the time Eddie gets Steve up the stairs and down the hall to his horrible plaid bedroom, the flood of excitement has fizzled out and left bone-deep exhaustion in his wake. He’s pretty sure he hasn’t felt this fucking tired since he woke up in the hospital all those months ago. “Okay, Stevie,” he sighs as he throws himself onto the bed, starfishing across the mattress. “It is possible that I have overestimated my stamina here.” 

“Oh, you think?” Steve grins playfully as he crawls onto the bed beside him. His hand comes to rest on Eddie’s happy trail, fingers skating over the soft hair beneath his belly button.

“Fuck!” Eddie squirms. “That tickles!” 

“Does it?” Steve asks with a glint in his eye that Eddie does not appreciate, but before he can do anything to defend himself Steve is throwing a leg over his lap, straddling him and holding him down while he tickles Eddie within an inch of his life. 

“Stop! Stop!” Eddie gasps, pawing ineffectively at Steve’s chest as he shakes with teary-eyed laughter, “Oh, my god, three taps, red, et cetera, you little monster.”

Steve stops immediately. 

“You’re an actual demon,” Eddie pouts as he sinks into the blankets.

Steve tips forward, laying his weight over Eddie’s chest, and the bastard’s still laughing when he presses an apologetic kiss to Eddie’s neck. “Sorry. Can’t help it if you look cute when you’re flustered.” 

“Jesus Christ.”

Steve sits back up, resting his palms against Eddie’s chest. “What does ‘red’ mean, by the way? Like, I get the gist, obviously, but, uh...”

“It’s a color system people use in kink. Like traffic lights. Basically the same thing as the tap-out system. Which, I still don’t understand how the hell you knew about that if you don’t know about BDSM, but—”

“BD what now?”

“Oh, my god.” Eddie looks up at the ceiling. Where to fucking begin? “BDSM. It’s an acronym. Bondage, Discipline — or Domination, take your pick, Sadism, and Masochism.” 

Steve makes an adorably confused face, his eyebrows drawing down. “Okay, I think I understood, like, three of those words.” 

God, he’s cute. 

“God, you're cute,” Eddie sighs, and okay, guess his filter’s out of commission for the evening. “Don’t worry about the last two for now. Those are more about pain play” — Steve’s eyes widen in alarm — “which, no shame to anyone who’s into that, but I’m not sure how much interest I have in that particular arena ever since, well...” 

Ever since bats used me as a fucking chew toy, he thinks, gesturing at his fucked-up torso. 

“Cool,” Steve says. “Me neither. I mean, I don’t think. I haven’t tried it, but I’m pretty sure I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You might,” Eddie smirks. He leans up on an elbow, kisses the soft skin of Steve’s inner arm. “But you don’t have to, sweetheart.” 

“Cool,” Steve says again, his shoulders slouching in relief. “So, the other two…?” 

“Sure. Bondage is pretty self-explanatory, but there are different degrees of it. The more, uh, extreme side of things usually involves shit like ropes and handcuffs, but it can be more mild. Like tying my wrists up with a scarf, or even just pinning them over my head with your hands.”

Steve’s eyes light up at that suggestion. He leans forward, pressing Eddie flat onto his back, and he scoops up Eddie’s hands and stretches them above his head, crossing his wrists and holding them there with just one hand. Jesus, his hands are huge. Eddie gulps and bucks up into him a little. 

Steve moans, leans down so their lips almost brush. “Something like this?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes, his voice rough and raspy and wanting. 

Steve presses in, kisses him hard, his hips grinding down as he licks against his lips. Hot and filthy and wet. Eddie parts his lips eagerly, swallows the moan that passes from Steve’s mouth to his when Steve shoves his tongue inside. Licks behind his fucking teeth.

“Okay,” Eddie pants when they part; he smiles up at Steve, pupils blown wide and face flushed red. “So we like that one then?”

“Yeah,” Steve grins. “Yeah, we like that one a lot.”

[yeowangies]

Hiya! Same anon from last time. I wanted to make my request a bit more specific. Can you use nsfw prompt #78 where the reader edge Bardock but she happens to go a bit too far by not letting him come at all?

PAIRING: Bardock/Reader

RATING: Explicit

CONTENTS: Explicit sexual content, edgeplay, orgasm delay/denial, rough sex.

WORDCOUNT: 1862

Notes:

I mean, there are consequences for taking things to far...

You gaze up at him through your lashes with a cheeky smile on your lips. Bardock is struggling, legs writhing by your sides and hands fisting the sheets underneath. Your hand is holding his erection in place, pumping it so slowly and so carefully, you know it’s frustrating him instead of pleasuring him.

It’s been a while since you started this; you have already brought him closer to the edge twice by then, and this is going to be the third time. 

“Fuck!” He growls when you pull your hand away from his dick as it twitches in the air, seeking more friction. 

“What’s the matter?” You ask, feigning innocence. “You cannot handle a little delay?”

“You’re an evil woman.” He huffs and smirks down at you. “I didn’t say I couldn’t handle it.”

Running your nails up and down his sides, harder than you normally would if he was human, you lean down and press kisses to his stomach, trailing down. 

“Good, because I have more to show you.”

Bardock groans and twists the sheets in his fists when you lick a bold stripe all the way up his cock, from the base to the tip.

It surprises you he’s holding on for so long, you would for sure have assumed he was going to give up earlier. Though give up is probably not the right word; he would probably grab you and roll you over to take you at once. But he hasn’t done it. Saiyans sure are arrogant, and you wonder how long it will take until you break him. You don’t think you’d win this one at all, you’re just waiting for the moment he’ll snap and pounce you. 

When you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, swirling your tongue around it, he grunts loudly, hips snapping upwards into your mouth. You let him do it, and when he starts rutting against you, you keep your head in place, knowing well that he wouldn't make his dick reach the back of your throat unless you slide your lips down. Bardock is groaning louder and louder, obviously frustrated at your lack of moves, and you chuckle quietly around him.

“Fuck- Move…” He says through gritted teeth, looking down at you with a glare.

You pull off with a loud pop, wrapping your hand around him when he huffs, throwing his head back.

“You told me to move.” You smile cockily at him.

He’s practically growling, and you start pumping his dick a little faster than you did earlier. When he starts panting and the muscles in his abdomen tense, you know he’s close once more. So you pull away altogether. 

“Son of a-” Bardock lets out a strangled groan. 

You chuckle, amused, and quickly straddle his waist. He looks at you through hooded lids, eyes so dark and hungry that you feel hot all over your body when he stares at you. Teasing him for so long has affected you as well. He must know, he must smell how dripping wet you are. This is the only moment you feel a little bad, because you’re not going to let him have his release this time either.

Knowing that if you touch him again now he will come too soon, you sit back on his thighs, peppering kisses on his chest to somehow soothe him from his frustrated state. Bardock writhes underneath, legs going restless, and you smile against his skin.

You pull back, smiling sensually as you take his cock in your hand once more. His gaze is fixed on your face, and his eye twitches when you start slowly stroking him again. He breathes loudly, chest heaving, as you take your time torturing him. 

“Are you going to sit on it?” He asks with a shaky voice, and you arch your eyebrow at him.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes.” He smirks, leering up at you. “I want to come inside you.”

Bardock is certainly making it more difficult for you to keep up with your resolve. 

But you both want the same thing. Raising to your knees, you position yourself above him, holding his dick in place as you carefully sink down. He groans loudly, his hands going to grip your hips so hard you know he’s dying to fuck you. It’s amazing he’s holding on for so long. He’s not even trying to turn you over, or even thrust into you the minute you sit on his cock.

You hum when he’s fully sheathed inside you, taking a moment to revel in the feeling of being filled up to the brim with his impressive length. Bardock groans and huffs, his fingers in your hips digging into your skin just as his tail wraps itself tightly around your thigh. You smile sweetly at him this time, leaning down to kiss his lips. He kisses you hungrily, like he’s desperate for more, and you sigh contently against his lips, returning the same affection. His tongue slides against yours just as his hands on your hips travel upwards towards your waist and back, and you take the opportunity to roll your hips.

He grunts, agitated when you keep grinding down at a lazy pace. You pull away from him, breaking the kiss and bracing your hands on his chest. You smile playfully as you raise up until only the tip remains before sinking back down carefully. His face twists in frustration as you repeat the same moves, showing no signal of speeding up any time soon. His tail tightens its grip on your leg at the same time his fingers dig into your waist, surely leaving marks. You moan quietly, thoroughly enjoying his reaction to the slow torment you’re putting him through.

The steady pace is good for a start, especially considering his imposing size, but you can’t resist wanting more. Increasing the intensity and speed, you lift your hips before rapidly pushing down onto his cock. You both moan in unison, feeling him hit inside you just right where you need him to. 

His gaze is focused on his dick going in and out of you as you start to eagerly ride him, dropping your hips down as hard and fast as you could. A growl rumbles through his chest, and as you keep your eyes on his face, gauging his reaction, you realize that you have probably teased him for way too long, because Bardock already looked close to the edge. You recognize the signs; he’s panting hard, his hold on your waist getting tighter. 

For a second you consider letting him have it, but that wouldn’t be as fun. After all, you can have yours, even if he doesn’t. You keep moving your hips, sinking down on him roughly until you know he’s about to come. 

His face is pricelessly bewildered when you suddenly raise up and let his length slip off. You lean down, pressing your lips to his briefly as you reach between your legs to stroke your clit. You keep your forehead pressed against his as you stimulate yourself earnestly, knowing you’re close to your release, the heat in your lower abdomen so close to bursting. You can actually feel his eyes set on you, on your face and then on your hand moving against your folds. His hands are grabbing your waist tightly, but that only spurs you on, and you reach your climax before you know it, moaning breathily against his lips and closing your eyes tightly, mind going blank. 

The irritation on his face is to be expected, and when you open your eyes, blinking a couple of times, Bardock looks incredibly pissed, glaring right at you. You snicker breathily and kiss him, and it worries you slightly that he’s not kissing you back. You pull away, sitting back on his thighs, and running your hands up and down his torso. He’s flushed on his neck and upper part of his chest, probably for the amount of times his muscles had tense, and you smile, amused.

“You’re so fucking hot when you’re made.” You say, running your nails down his sides. He only grunts in annoyance. 

His cock is swollen, leaking at the tip, and you gently wrap your hand around it, stroking it slowly. His eyes are intense, staring directly at you as you move your hand up and down. 

It takes a while until you realize you are on your back against the mattress, pressed flush. Bardock is holding you down with a tight grip on your waist, and you gulp when he smirks down at you. 

“You’ve had your fun, woman.” His voice is cold, and chills travel up your spine. “And I’ve been more than lenient with you, but it’s enough.”

You can’t protest at all when he suddenly presses your legs together and pushes them against your chest, leaving you completely exposed to him. You gasp when he shoves his cock all the way inside you, filling you completely. 

With your legs firmly kept in place with his hands on your thighs, Bardock starts thrusting into you at a brutal pace. You cry out loudly, his dick hitting inside you hard, and making you see stars with every move. Your hands cling to the sheets desperately, every snap of his hips making you slide abruptly against the mattress. 

The bed is creaking loudly as he speeds up quickly, chasing his own release. You start feeling your newfound arousal rapidly bloom again in between your legs with every slide of his cock. Having come only seconds ago left you sensitive, and your legs are twitching, just as close to an orgasm as he is. 

Soon enough, you hear a loud deep growl leave his lips, and his hips jerk against yours when he comes. His cock throbs inside you as he fills you with his load, triggering your own climax, and you stutter a moan, toes curling as he rides out his orgasm, making your entire body shake.

You’re panting through your haze, your eyes blurry at the edges as you slowly come down from your high. You peek at Bardock when his hold on your thighs eases; relief is all over his face as he steadies his breathing, and you chuckle breathily. 

When you reach your hands out for him to cuddle with you, you’re surprised to see his eyes are still incredibly dark. And when he smirks, your stomach sinks. 

In the blink of an eye, Bardock turns you over, pressing your chest to the mattress with a hand on your back. You wail when he promptly pushes inside you again. 

“I’m not done with you.” He mutters lustfully against your ear. “I’ll take everything that was mine.”

He tightly holds your wrists against the bed, his body looming over yours as he starts pounding into you. Your cries and whines are muffled against the sheets, and you can’t do anything but take the brutal fucking he’s giving you. 

Your heart is beating fast and loud as your mind is filled with the worrisome wondering of just how much he will fuck you when you had edged him so many times.

[shystrawberries]

October 7th, Glitter Glue

It wasn't the first time Star had found Sundrop with pink and green glitter stuck in the crevices of his hands and spread across his arms. He had once claimed that he couldn't say no to the children, but now she was sure he encouraged them entirely. It wouldn't be the last time either.

She sighed as she sat beside him. He could clean himself up by himself this time. She took pity on him that last couple of times, but Star was pretty sure he didn’t really care one way or another if she did or didn’t assist him.

The only difference now was instead of mashing glue senselessly against plastic teeth, he could open his mouth and guzzle glue properly. 

They had all gotten updates, one by one. The most notable being how expressive they were. Star could open her mouth wider and stick out a new tongue at someone in annoyance if she wanted. Her optics now had expressive eyelids. The same was applied to the others. Eclipse’s glares had only increased in accuracy rather than rely on vibes only. She had accidently found him making goofy faces at a crying child until the child had calmed down, one day. It made her wonder if that was his purpose, or if he even had one. Maybe he simply existed as he pleased? Star found herself a tiny bit jealous of that.

Sunny waggled his eyebrows at her. She sent him an unimpressed look. Sundrop of all of them loved the new upgrades the best.

She was glad.

But… at the same time… Star never wanted this for them. Clearly her feelings were unimportant in the matter, and obviously she wasn’t going to mention it. She didn’t want to ruin Sun’s fun. She didn’t really know how Moondrop felt about it, but he didn’t appear to have any negative feelings about it. 

Granted, he still ran away from her whenever he could. One couldn’t measure the depth of another’s feelings if they hardly interacted.

“I think you really ought to try some.” Sun giggled as he held out to the toxic-for-humans substance. As he expected, she shook her head and looked out over the daycare.

Though it was a Wednesday, and they usually had ten or more kids right about now, the daycare was empty. 

It was odd, to feel that she missed the very creatures she despised only two years prior. Weird to think that it was roughly a year and a half ago that Sundrop declared her his “bestest best friend”. 

Sometimes, as she drifted off into a sort of sleep-like state while she charged, that audio replayed in her head before moving on to process the day.

She side-eyed Sun. He had a sort of stomach installed, like Chica did, so that he could get away with eating random things. The only mechanic left on site would have to empty it. As time progressed, less and less workers showed up at the pizza plex. Star knew for a fact that Joanna would have to be the one, and frankly, Star didn’t trust her a bit.

She took the blue glitter glue, popped off the cap, and dumped it down into her mouth. Unlike Sun, she had no throat nor stomach, as she loathed messes. She wouldn’t be allowed to accompany Sun down to Parts ‘n Service otherwise, however.

Sun balked. “Star!”

She capped the glitter glue and grinned at him. Glue dribbled down her lip. “What? I thought you wanted to share.” 

“I mean I do, but Star, that’s true, but, but-!”

She bumped her shoulder against his and laughed. “This just means we’ll have to go to Parts ‘n Service together, is all. Don’t worry so much.”

He frowned at her. “This is because of that mechanic, isn’t it?”

“What? Nooo.” She looked away. “How’d you know?”

He huffed. “You underestimate my ability to read your tells, silly Star.”

“Oh.”

He leaned his head against hers, rays retracting so she wasn’t stabbed. She couldn’t retract her own, unfortunately, but for the most part they were angled away from where their faceplates aligned. 

“There’s nothing wrong with that, of course. It’s just my super duper special secret ability.”

She chuckled. “Oh, yes, very secret.”

“Indeed!”

She fiddled with the glitter glue bottle, and swiped a bit of glue off its surface with her thumb. Glitter gleamed up at her. “I’m just not very… fond of her, is all.” She admitted. 

“Well, you don’t have to like everyone.” He hummed. “Wouldn’t be realistic to assume you could.”

“Shouldn’t I be able to, though? I mean… I dunno.”

“What?”

“The first time we met, she seemed really nice at first.” Sometimes Star wondered if she was being ridiculous. It wasn’t her face that Joanna wanted to change originally. Why was she so insulted? Was it wrong to be so offended on the behalf of her friends when she couldn’t even bring up the topic for fear that it would hurt their feelings?

“Star…”

“What?”

“It’s really okay to not like someone. It doesn’t mean they’re of less value or that you’re mean. It just means you don’t jive.”

“Jive?” She snorted. “Just where did you learn that?”

“Mikaela taught me!”

She enjoyed this. She let her head fall on his shoulder. “If your hands are clean, can you braid my hair?”

“You’d have to move first, silly Star.”

She hummed. “I don't wanna.”

“Weeell I don’t know that I can braid your hair just yet, then. I got glue up and down my arms and hands!”

She sprung off him and hurriedly swiped at her side and sweater. She did not want to deal with getting glitter glue off her white sweater. Not again. 

Sundrop chuckled as he stood. “Let’s go, let’s go. We really ought to go to Parts n’ Service first, and then I can braid your hair!”

Star went back to her closet that night without gunk clogging the inside of her mouth and mechanisms, and cute twintail braids hanging over her shoulders.

[wordynerdygurl]

Someone to Watch Over Me

Part 1:  “Love is Blind”

Author’s Note:  Do you think the Duffer’s realized what they were doing when they brought Eddie Munson to life on paper?  I don’t think so.  Because it’s been, what, nine or so months now, and I’m still all in on my favorite ne’er do well metal head.

This is my first time with an Original Character standing in for “reader”.  Just like with my reader insert fics, our OC is female and plus size. Pairing:  Eddie Munson x Plus Size OC Amanda Patterson Summary:  It’s love at first sound, pitch perfect and fated, everything in harmony.  If only life were a love song.  

Amanda and Eddie meet by chance but their connection is real.  Some night music and milkshakes maybe all it takes to show that Hawkins’ resident bad boy is worthy of love.  The kind of love a misfit like Amanda is ready to give to the right guy.  Have they each found the right someone to watch out for them? Warnings:  This is a slower burn than my usual, but I think it’ll be worth it.  There will be SMUT in additional chapters, but for now, there’s making out, eating a lot of junk food, some size shaming and self doubt.  Oh, and a character gets slapped.

“There’s a saying old, says that love is blind”

1990

“So, Eddie, how’s the tour been going?”

Pulling a long strand of dark hair over his cheek, a nervous habit he couldn’t seem to break, Eddie raised his dark eyes to the reporter asking the questions, ignoring the video camera and boom mic hovering overhead.  It took everything in him to keep the sarcastic edge in his tone to a minimum, “Well, Chuck, it’s been a helluva time.  Me and the boys, we’re just taking what comes.  It’s been fuckin’ amazing to see so many cities and of course, our fans.” “Oopsie!  Can’t curse like that, Eddie.  Can we cut around that?”  Chuck was asking some producer, talking over Eddie’s head, ignoring him all in the name of being appropriate for television.  Already he was over this whole experience.  What Eddie really wanted was to get back to the green room, have a beer or a smoke- scratch that.  And a smoke, before having to play tonight’s show.

The conversation around editing was still happening, Eddie’s interview on pause.  It gave him a minute to evaluate the man asking the questions.  Smarmy, yea, that’s the word Eddie would use for a guy like Chuck.  Hair slicked back and suit a little too colorful to be classy, the guy was cheesy as hell, but he was going to film a piece about the band.  Something for MTV to use in promos or some shit.  Eddie didn’t really care to know.  There were people for that now.  The same people who kept assuring him that there was no such thing as bad publicity.  Not when there was a nationwide tour that needed to sell tickets and t-shirts and records, so he bit his tongue and smiled sheepishly, waiting for the next question. “We rolling?  Great.  Ok, ready Eddie?” Nodding in answer, Eddie gave him the green light.  The interviewer tapped his finger against the skinny microphone in his hand, picking up seamlessly from where they had stopped earlier, “That’s good to hear.  Now, Corroded Coffin plays specifically metal but who has influenced your musical journey?  Which artists do you listen to?” Blowing out an exhale, his lips parting, Eddie thought for a minute.  “Ya know, all the greats Chuck.  I mean, I cut my teeth on Led Zeppelin.  Heart, Black Sabbath, obviously-” he rolled his eyes for emphasis, “-Iron Maiden and Metallica.  You play metal music and I’m there, man.” Chuck nodded along, agreeing with everything coming out of Eddie’s mouth, trying way too hard to seem interested.  He seemed more like a Madonna kinda guy, too caught up in the look of something to worry about its substance.  It grated on Eddie’s nerves, set his teeth on edge. “Gotcha.  So, the people want to know-” Chuck drug out the question, clearly enjoying the way he baited his interviewee, “-What is Eddie Munson’s favorite song?” Toffee colored eyes widened.  Despite the movement around him, the roadies hauling in speakers and gear, the conversations between stage crew and security guards, the clicking of boot heels on parquet flooring, Eddie could hear it.  His favorite song.  Clear and distinct, the memory a perfectly preserved bubble of sight and sound.  From over his shoulder someone coughed, bringing Eddie back to the here and now.  “Uh, sorry.  Didn’t mean to zone out there.” “Don’t worry, we’ll edit it out.”  Chuck’s hand made a motion urging him to continue. Eddie’s ring laden right hand rubbed across the skin on the back of his neck, internally debating just how real to be with his response.  In the end, Eddie told the whole truth.  He spilled one of his deeply held secrets to a douche bag with gelled back hair and a smile that was too much teeth. Looking directly into the bubbled lens of the video camera, Eddie offered up a reluctant, almost embarrassed smile, “My favorite song?  That’s a great question, man.  And, uh, ya know, I wanna say something hard rocking and fast.  But honestly?  Someone to Watch Over Me by the Gershwin brothers.” Eddie’s voice was practically a whisper at his admission.  He was ready for a ribbing.  A hard rocker like him, known for bad boy behavior and leaving a lady behind in every city?  No way Eddie Munson could possibly be a romantic at heart, right? Fully expecting a laugh from smarmy Chuck, some jab about the softness of his choice, or a comment on it being a standard, something old fashioned or behind the times.  But Eddie only heard the insipid agreement of the interviewer, “Great song.  A classic.” “Yea.  It is.”

—

1987

It had always come naturally to Amanda.  She opened her mouth and the sound just came out, warm and round, with the right amount of inflection and sweetness of tone.  Singing was what she did.  From the time she could talk, Amanda was making music, using her body as the instrument. Church choir taught her how to sight read sheet music, her voice moving up and down the scale in time with the half and quarter notes.  Learning how to let her high Soprano melt in with the other members of the chorus so that no individual could be heard over another.  Discovering the power of dynamics; an effective hushed line that built into a climaxing crescendo, the rush of belting out a powerful note with all of the choir members doing the same.  Amanda continued to discover the best ways to utilize her voice, really only ever happy when she was humming or whistling or belting out a tune. One Christmas there was a tawny wooden guitar under the tree.  She carried it with her everywhere she could.  Teaching herself the chords from a beginner’s guide until she could play “Frosty the Snowman” without stopping.  And her unquestionable love of music grew with every new song she memorized until the entire book had faded from overuse. There were high school musicals, of course.  Grease, Annie, Guys and Dolls, Anything Goes.  And even if she was always the sidekick with no solo, hanging around in the back of the chorus lines, she loved performing.  Being on a stage, with the lights and excitement, the tension of anxiety turning into the power needed to propel her through the show.  Amanda lived for the thrill of it.  Something could go wrong or things could go incredibly right.  In either case, you could never truly know which way it would play out until it was happening.  Then, the curtain would fall and there would be bows and applause. Amanda loved the spotlight, absolutely and unequivocally.  Only, the spotlight didn’t love her back. Her round, full cheeks wouldn’t do to play Sandy.  The curvy, womanly figure she’d grown into wouldn’t work for Annie or Pepper or even Mrs. Hannigan.  Despite the lovely, lyrical quality to her voice, it wasn’t enough to outweigh her looks. So Amanda sang out loud and long from the back row of the chorus, her robe tight across her ample chest.  She learned the simple choreography for musical numbers and was told, “you’re so light on your feet” as if it was shocking to see.  Every year was a new chance to gain that place in the middle of the stage, singing for all she was worth for everyone to hear, but never making it due to a healthy appetite which made her soft in the places where people would rather she be firm. It was the bitterest of pills, but she swallowed it, happy just to be involved.  Pleased to have her name printed in the program as a participant even if she was living off of the scraps of lesser performers who just so happened to look prettier under the hot stage lamps.  She accepted hugs from the pretty boys who tried on singing and dancing as a way to meet girls, but wouldn’t give her a second glance.  The boys who saw her as the funny, talented friend of the group.  Always happy to drive everyone home, listen to everyone’s troubles, offering sage advice and asking for nothing in return.  That was Amanda.

All too soon, school was ending.  Over.  And college loomed in front of her, full of promise and secret worries.

She knew what she wanted, what she had always wanted.  It had never changed despite the wacky directors who hid her behind scaffolding or pushed her to the dim corners of the stage.  Amanda was on the earth to do one thing only: make beautiful music. It was, after all, her favorite thing to do. Unfortunately, it was also incredibly difficult to make a career out of, something her parents constantly felt the need to remind her about.  They only wanted what was best for her, that’s what they said anyways.  And what was best, in the opinion of Mr. and Mrs. Patterson, was a steady job as a hairdresser or nurse or preschool teacher.  Anything really to fill the gap until she met “the one”, got married and started having their grandchildren. Too bad Amanda loved the music so much more.  It had taken a lot of work, hours and hours of debating and shouting but somehow she had convinced them to let her go to school for music.  The catch?  She’d also study education.  It was a compromise Amanda was willing to make, just to get her foot in the door.  Worst case?  She’d wind up a music department chair at some high school or another, a great back up plan to her real dream: musical super stardom like Linda Rondstadt or Carol King. Only, school was expensive, especially when you were trying to make music your career.  And her parents did as much as they could, which she was incredibly grateful for, but everything cost so damn much.  So, almost broke and entirely desperate, Amanda searched around until finding a part time position at The Music Shop.  She started selling sheet music and drum sticks, auto tuners and guitar straps from a squat building painted an obnoxious shade of ocean blue that could be seen for miles in any direction. Occasionally there’d be a student in need of some musical mentoring and she’d drag out her acoustic guitar, the tawny one she kept in its cardboard case after all these years.  Showing them where to hold their fingers and how to press against the tough strings in order to get a pretty sound out of the instrument brought her a lot of joy.  It was still making music and that was enough for her between class work and socializing and generally trying to be a good person. The college classes related to music and music theory were fascinating.  Her collection of records and tapes had grown significantly.  It seemed as though every new person she talked to had a list of bands she “just had to listen to” and Amanda did. How could she ever thank her roommate’s boyfriend for turning her on to Lou Reed?  Did she live before knowing all the words to Pirates of Penzance?  How did Whitney Houston sound so incredible all of the time?

Writing a paper on the importance of Tom Petty’s ability to pen pretty lyrics, Amanda found herself surrounded by like minded musical folks.  She was invited to parties where everyone sang along to the radio, getting rowdy in the tame way theater kids everywhere are prone to do.  Drinking beers was fun.  Smoking cigarettes killed her throat through and Amanda refused to damage her instrument with nicotine like that.  Besides, she couldn’t afford them anyway. When she wasn’t studying or singing or stocking, Amanda did gig out.  Sometime during her first semester she had been approached by Jim, a cellist, Mark, a drummer and Carly, a pianist.  Having met the threesome at someone or other’s pre-Thanksgiving break bash, Amanda hadn’t realized it right away but she was casually auditioning for their band.  Not once did her size come up.  All the three seemed to care about was how quickly they could get her into a rehearsal.  They had a jazz trio and wanted someone to vocalize for them, someone with a soft tone, an easy timber that could get them playing in front of bigger crowds.  That she blended in with their group dynamic made it an easy fit and soon, the four of them were playing shows together all over the area and regularly too. Now, well into her third year at school, Amanda had a good idea of what her life was going to look like.  She would work the store, teaching a couple of private students the ways of the guitar, and sing out with the band on the weekends.  If they happened to get a wee bit drunk after a show, who could blame them?  After all, they were barely twenty and the world still had so much left to show them. At the music shop, one late September Saturday, Amanda took a minute to hang up the flier for Hawkins’ Autumn Concert Series.  Their quartet had been asked to entertain, practicing for weeks now getting the set list perfect for their biggest concert yet.  Smiling happily to herself, she gently forced the pushpin into the cork board where the typical announcements of used instruments for sale, lessons for keyboard or piano, and imploring alerts for new band members all co-existed in a colorful, clashing collage. Stepping backwards, Amanda wasn’t entirely paying attention, her mind already drifting to the highlight of the performance.  What she was going to wear, how she’d do her hair, all the little details that she liked to get right in an effort to make sure that the show went off without a hitch.  That’s how she missed the fellow who was crouched down behind her, ringed hands reaching for the Iron Maiden song book that was propped up on the bottom shelf. Her booted foot hit something solid, something that shouldn’t be in the aisle, and she turned quickly.  A blur of black leather and curls flew upwards fast.  The joint of her ankle rolled and Amanda reached out blindly, connecting with a solid wall of a person, holding on with a death grip to keep on her feet. Holy shit, did this chick have pretty eyes.  It was his first thought and boy, was it a doozy.  Eddie could see the shock clearing as worry crept in, crowding around the wide irises, her lips parted in a panicked “o”.  Clipped nails clawed into the denim vest he always wore, holding herself upright against the unfair tug of gravity, her forearms pressed tightly to his chest.  Bringing a steadying hand to her wrist, he shook his head, shyly smiling, “You alright there?  Took a bit of a tumble, didn’t ya?” Inhaling shakily, Amanda nodded dumbly, her heart still thrumming.  Still standing much too close to a stranger.  She had been certain of falling but having this, this guy break that fall, was disconcerting in an entirely different way.  “Oh, I am so sorry!  I didn’t see you, and-” “Hey, it’s ok.  No harm done, so long as you’re ok.  You are ok, right?”  There was a brief flash of concern that crossed his face, but it faded when Amanda bobbed her head at his question. She hadn’t moved.  Eddie was still looking down at her upturned face, the way her hair fell softly against her cheeks and the sweet sweep of her nose making her look about as precious as he had ever had the pleasure to see.  Eddie didn’t want to look away. For another beat they stood there, together, surrounded by score books and tutorial materials while an instrumental version of “Don’t Stop Believing” played through the store speakers.  Shifting in his Reeboks, Eddie swayed to the melody and Amanda let herself be carried along with him.  In another second, Amanda was certain that she would wrap his arms around her waist and call it a day.  Already, Eddie’s free hand was sliding towards her shoulder, another point of contact with this unknown, but very cute, man. “Yo!  Amanda?  Are you-”  Kyle’s voice cut through the force field around the pair.  At the sound of her manager’s shout she panic jumped back far enough to thud against the very cork board which held her proudly hung announcement, knocking the air out of her lungs with a grunted, “Oof!” “Jesus!  What are you doing?”  

Amanda’s eyes went wide at Kyle’s intrusion, and she pressed a hand to her chest to stop her startled heart from bursting free from the unused adrenaline, “Me?  Kyle, you scared the crap out of me!” Eddie’s head had snapped towards the interruption before pivoting back to the pretty lady he now knew was called Amanda.  His hand reached for hers reflexively, to help steady her, the same shy grin tugging at his lips.  That she took it and held it like a lifeline sent a zig-zag of energy from his fingertips straight to the muscles of his tummy which tightened at the contact. One of Kyle’s eyebrows shot skyward, his face skeptical, “What’s going on over here, anyway?”  He asked as if he already knew the answer, questioning eyes full of judgment. Amanda’s mouth opened and closed wordlessly.  What was going on back here?  She didn’t know, really. Luckily, Eddie did.  “Uh, your beautiful sales associate was just helping me find this-” holding up the song book with Iron Maiden’s logo splashed across the cover, he continued, “-and uh, then you came around the corner and, ya know, scared her half to death.” “Were you dancing?” Sneaking a quick glance her way, Eddie chuckled, “Dancing?  While she’s supposed to be working?  Naw man.  Like I said, she was helping me out.” His arms crossed over his chest, Kyle stared directly at Amanda, all but demanding her side of the story.  Running a palm up her neck, leaning into her hand, she exhaled loudly, “He’s- he’s right, Kyle.  I was just giving him, ya know, a hand.” Narrowing his eyes, not believing either of them, Kyle groaned in frustration, “Fine.  Whatever.  Just, I had a question for you.  Ya know, when you’re free?” Nodding, “Sure.  Yea, of course.  Just um-” she gestured towards Eddie, “-Give me a minute, ok?” “Yea.  Ok.”  Snorting, Kyle moved back towards the register, leaving Eddie and Amanda alone once more. Blinking those amazing eyes his way, Amanda locked her hands together to keep from touching the broad boy in front of her anymore, “So, thank you.  I’m not entirely sure what was going on, but I’m glad I don’t have to explain it to my boss.” “Right.  Well, I’m sorry for tripping you up.  Covering for you seemed like the least I could do.” Amanda heard the store’s music shift, something by Annie Lennox filling the space, and she took a tentative step away from Eddie causing him to lean forward, “Wait-” “Yea?”  Her hair swung over her shoulder, that’s how fast she spun around to face him, her stare open and curious. Nervously, Eddie bit his bottom lip as he rocked on the worn down heels of his sneakers.  For the first time in as long as he could remember he was almost unsure of what to say, “Uh, can I see you again?” Amanda didn’t laugh in his face and she didn’t shy away, both reactions he fully expected if he was honest about it.  Instead, and to his utter amazement, she reached behind her, yanking down the flier she’d only just hung up, “Absolutely.”  And she pushed the paper into his hand before scurrying toward Kyle. Shit.  He was in trouble already. Waiting just another couple of minutes, Eddie made his way to the cashier, patiently standing behind a flustered mom and her teenage son.  That the kid kept trying to get her to look at the cherry red electric guitar and amp set, already staged for Christmas, wasn’t lost on Eddie.  It’s exactly the type of gear he’d lusted after when he was young and eager, before he’d gotten his Sweetheart, and never looked back. Mind wandering, he didn’t hear her at first, “I can help you over here, sir.” Tilting his head towards her voice, Eddie took a shuffling step toward her register, “Ah, thank you, miss.” “No problem.”  But it most definitely was a problem, because Amanda couldn’t lift her gaze his way.  Not when her body rolled over hot at the memory of his chest under her fingers, his brown eyes peering down at her with sweet desire in their burnt caramel depths. Amanda punched in the code numbers, reading the price sticker and busying herself with recording the sale correctly.  “Amanda?  What’s the price for the Fender capo?” “Twelve fifty!”  It’s automatic and Eddie was astonished at how she kept focused on his sale while answering her colleague from memory. Finally, she raised her face to find Eddie’s smiling one already looking in her direction, and struggling to keep the flush of her embarrassment in control managed to ask, “Is uh, is there anything else today?” “Naw, Amanda.  I think this’ll do it.”  Giggling, a bit more timid now that she was safe behind the counter, Amanda bagged up the book and relayed the total.  Eddie pulled the bills out of his wallet, his chains clinking together musically, as Amanda made change for him quickly and precisely.  When he grabbed for the package, his fingers rested over her own for just a heartbeat, “I’ll see you soon then.  And uh, thanks for the dance, Amanda.” Stunned, all she could do was stand there, confused at the Dio patched metal head who pushed through the doorway and onto the street.  Under her breath, Amanda swore, “Fuck.  He knows my name.” —

Eddie didn’t know what he was supposed to wear to an outdoor concert in Hawkins Memorial Park at the beginning of October.  Was it a jacket and tie sort of situation?  Were jeans enough?  Was he going to stick out like a sore thumb if he was wearing a Metallica t-shirt? All of these questions and more burned through the bong ripped brain of Eddie Munson.  Pacing in front of his mirror, he fluffed his hair with his fingers, fidgety and fussing.  “Dude.  You’re fine.  What’s the big deal anyway?” Fixing Dustin with a stare that would wither lesser beings, Eddie folded down the collar of his red checkered flannel shirt, “The big deal?  I’ll tell you, Henderson.  The big deal is-” grabbing for his well used bottle of Aqua Velva and splashing a few shakes into his hands, “-I don’t wanna look like a jerk.  I want to blend in.  Just uh, enjoy some new music, and a nice night.” “Psst.  Bullshit.  Who’s the chick?” His eyes widened.  How could the little butthead know?  Eddie hadn’t said a word about the music store beauty and still, somehow, the pipsqueak was calling him out. “What chick?  Who said chick?  There’s no chick.” “Me thinks thou doth protest too much.” Pausing while he fiddled with the buttons on the sleeves of his shirt, confusion filling his face, Eddie blinked, “Wha?” “It’s Shakespeare.  You protest too much ‘cause, ya know, you’re covering up.”  Frustrated, Dustin shook his head, closing his eyes as he exhaled heavily, “Nevermind.  You’re clearly lying.  Tell me about her.  Who is she?” Looking over at his youthful friend, Eddie thought about it for a long second.  Tell Dustin about Amanda?  What was there to tell?  Shrugging safely into his shirt, Eddie bought himself some time fiddling with the buttons.  “Uh, well.  I don’t really know her all that well.  We, literally, bumped into each other at the music shop when I was picking up my new bible.”  He was now entirely focused on his hair which had decided to go fluffy.  Disgusted at what he saw, looking more pampered poodle than suave rocker, Eddie continued to run his hands through the curls as he chatted with his sidekick, “She’s uh-” “Pretty?” Dropping his gaze to the top of his dresser, Eddie’s cheeks colored at the word, “Yea.  So cute.  And, she seems smart.  Funny, ya know?” Nodding, Dustin came up behind his friend, plucking a stray hair from his shoulder, “Sounds pretty damn perfect, man.” “I’m sure there’s a catch.  There always is when it comes to women.”  Eddie couldn’t help trying to keep his excitement in check.  It was better to set his expectations low.  Less likely to hurt so bad when someone disappointed him and people always seemed to be disappointing Eddie Munson. Catching his older friend’s eye in the mirror, Dustin offered up a toothless smile, “I don’t know, man.  Maybe she’ll surprise you?” —

People were scattered around the park.  Some hovered near benches, others sat on blankets and a lucky few used their lawn chairs, dragged from home, all to get a good view of the small stage where the quartet would be performing tonight.  It was exciting. Amanda had unpacked her mic and cord, scatting a bit so that the guys could get a level on her voice and ensure a balanced sound through their mixing board.  She didn’t really understand all the technicalities, but in the end it helped make sure that they all sounded as good as possible, so Amanda played along.  “Testing one, two, three- testing one, two, three.  Can y’all hear us out there?” A smattering of claps and one enthusiastic “Woo hoo!” met her question.  Carly’s electric piano came next, banging out a couple of chords, before Jim slid his bow across the strings of his bass.  Not to be excluded, Mark took a couple of rim shots, making them all laugh. Now all that was left was waiting for the start of the show.  Seven o’clock and one of the town’s cultural council staff members used her microphone to blab about why they were hosting this event and to welcome Amanda and the band.  The lawn had filled in a bit, more people milling around which was always a good sign, so Amanda took a deep breath before greeting everyone, “Good evening everyone!  We’re the Indiana Four and we’re going to play for you tonight.  If you like what you hear, there’s a tambourine-” jingling the instrument to get everyone's attention, Amanda added, “-and I’ll leave it right here, in case you wanna put a little something in it!”

It was still too early for a full on sun set, but the sky didn’t know it.  Painted in bold streaks of orange that melted into petal pink due to the rays of the sinking sun, it created a warm glow which outlined everything around them with a gilded golden edge.  The moon was already a ghostly crescent barely visible in the rainbow tinted ether when Amanda let her voice rise into the oncoming night.  Mark counted them in with a broad smile in her direction and Carly’s piano joined the swell of music.  The deeper bass notes of Jim’s cello grounded the opening strains of their first song.  Amanda gently shut her eyes, letting her body feel every word of the song she was singing, just like she would do at home in her shower or behind the wheel of her tiny car.  Unaware of herself and completely at ease, letting her instrument, her voice, blend into the melody the four of them created together. Eddie was never going to get over the sound of her voice.  Sweet and soaring, she seemed to change the quality of its tone depending on the song, always leaving him guessing.  Which version of this lady was going to sing next?  A sultry vixen, heart broken and mournful?  The shy ingenue, new to love?  A plaintive bard, looking for answers?  Or some new character created to enchant him with only the power of her voice? In between songs, Amanda smiled brightly, joking with the people gathered and teasing her band mates playfully.  It made the entire concert feel comfortable- easy.  Like the folks who came down to see them were in on the funniest joke.  All one big, happy family who simply wanted to share music on a random October evening in the middle of Indiana. “Ok everyone, you’ve heard us sing a little of this and a little of that-” wrapping her hands around the microphone, Amanda pulled the silver stick closer, “-but now we’re going to do a favorite of mine, if that’s alright.” At the opening strains from the piano, a couple, older with matching graying hair, stood in front of their chairs and started swaying together, wrapped in each other’s arms.  Amanda’s lips spread in a wide smile pointed in their direction as she started, “There’s a saying old, says that love is blind. Still we’re often told, seek and ye will find. So, I’m gonna seek a certain lad I’ve had in mind.” Moving from the lamp post he had been leaning against, no longer content to watch from the shadows, Eddie stepped directly into Amanda’s line of sight.  She saw him.  How could she miss the leather wrapped, long haired guy who was peering straight into her soul?  And she wanted to look away, give someone, anyone else in the assembled listeners, her attention, but Amanda found that she couldn’t.

Had she expected him to be there?  Shaking her head for the crowd to see answered her own thoughts.  No, Amanda had no idea that the metal loving smooth talker would actually come to seek her out.  But, she had thought about it in the small moments between guitar lessons or while driving to her classes in the morning.

So, no.  Seeing Eddie stand there, bold as brass with his wide eyed stare and his hands in his pockets was not what Amanda had been expecting.  Hoped for, maybe.  Wished for, absolutely.  Reality though was better than anything her mind might have considered. “Looking everywhere, haven’t found him yet He’s the big affair I cannot forget, Only man I ever think of with regret.” Eddie swallowed hard.  The words she was singing wrapped around him on the night’s breeze and held on tight.  It was as if they were having a conversation that no one else could decipher, a conversation for only two. “I’d like to add his initials to my monogram, Tell me, where’s the shepherd for this lost lamb?” And she sounded lost.  Abandoned.  Alone.  Exactly like the type of person that Eddie was collecting for Hellfire or the band.  A person who needed someone like him to shield them from the big bads in life.  A guy who could protect her from the sort of wolves that a shepherd like him knew about all too well. “There’s a somebody I’m longing to see, I hope that he turns out to be Someone to watch over me.”

She was singing just to him.  Only Eddie.  There was no one else to look at, no one else who could understand or appreciate what the lyrics demanded.  “I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood, I know I could always be good To one who'll watch over me”

Eddie felt his smile slide into place.  It wasn’t the wide, dimpled, open grin that showed off his teeth and let you know he was happiest.  No, this smile was small, secret.  It drew his pretty pink tongue over the plush swell of his lips, something Amanda could see from a distance.  Then, just to be coy, his pearly top teeth bit into the pillow cushion of his bottom lip, teasing her from her position on the small stage. Even from this far away, Amanda could see that he had made an effort.  A shirt with a collar was buttoned across his chest, all red and black squares that looked soft and broken in.  Sure, it was still under his leather jacket, but the denim vest must have been left somewhere safe, because he wasn’t sporting the pins and patches that she remembered from their first encounter.  Jeans, dark blue or was it black?  She couldn’t really tell, but it didn’t entirely matter.  Either way, they fit snugly around his thighs and only sported a single torn knee.  The threads stretched across his joint, frayed and begging to be played with. His hair was wild.  It fell in waves of dark tendrils, looking to all the world like no care had been taken in its shaping and styling.  Amanda stretched the fingers of her right hand, the one not holding her mic, imagining how Eddie’s curls would feel wrapped around her fingers. He saw it all.  The way her hand fisted at her side before trailing up the chord of her microphone, tangling the slack in her fingers.  How Amanda let every note have its own moment before the next one rose to join it. “Although he may not be the man some girls think of as handsome, To my heart, he carries the key”

Eyes fluttering shut, Amanda took a breathy inhalation as the melody shifted, daring to break the spell by denying herself the sight of Eddie in the crowd.  Her heart thumped in time with Mark’s gentle drumming, thick hips swaying without her conscious approval, the crowd around her all but forgotten.  Sliding back to the original cadence, the song swelled up and out of Amanda, nearing the end. “Won't you tell him please, to put on some speed, Follow my lead, oh, how I need, Someone to watch over me”

Eddie was transfixed.  There was only him and Amanda and her voice and the falling sun burnishing everything rose golden in the fading light.  He caught the way her skirt curled happily at her ankles with every shift of her feet.  The way her mouth formed around the lyrics.  How her chest rose and fell with each expressive stanza. The words repeated: “Won't you tell him please, to put on some speed Follow my lead, oh, how I need Someone to watch over me”

Amanda let her eyes flutter open.  Closer now, unavoidable and un-ignorable, Eddie was standing directly in front of her.  The final note, held until her lungs burned from want of air, faded into the ether and she winked at him.  She couldn’t help it, really. Not when she had somehow managed to carry on as if the most handsome guy Amanda had ever bumped into wasn’t staring straight into her soul as she sang.  Not when every note was rich and ripe and reverberated across the people packed plaza even if, presently, she sang solely for an audience of one. Applause.  Clapping and whistling came from every corner of the park, jostling Eddie’s attention.  From the stage, Amanda giggled at his reaction, but smoothly covered her response, “We are just so grateful that you all came to see us tonight.  So-” tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, a shy smile pointed in Eddie’s direction, she continued, “-we’re going to do one more song before we say goodnight.” She didn’t look at Eddie at all this time.  Amanda wasn’t even sure she could, not after the intensity of singing, to him, for him.  But she could tell he was there all the same, with his elbows bending outward like leather wrapped wings, nervous energy causing him to bounce on his toes in time with the music.

The new melody started and Amanda let it take her away too.  This number is lively, the rhythm more rock than jazz, and she gave herself permission to have a little fun, show off a little bit.  Still, she actively ignored the one set of eyes that didn’t seem to stray from her own through their final song. Soon enough, it was all over and the Indiana Four began breaking down.  A few friendly folks from the audience came up and said kind words.  Luckily there were a few dollars in the tambourine and Amanda happily handed the take to Carly, “Not so bad.” “Not bad at all-” But her friend stopped mid sentence, a voice familiar and still foreign cutting through the conversation, “Um, excuse me?  Amanda?” Turning around, Amanda was surprised to find Eddie so close that the toes of her boots brushed against his Reeboks.  She looked up at him through the curtain of her mascara, “How can I help you?” Now her voice was breathy.  Husky.  And it made Eddie’s skin prickle hotly.  “Uh, I just wanted to tell you- all, tell you all just how much I enjoyed your set.” Only, Eddie never looked past Amanda’s face.  Couldn’t really.  Not when her wide eyes were staring into his own, their long lashes accentuating her curious gaze, her head tilted in a way that showed sincerity.

His calloused palm rubbed against the back of his neck, nerves getting the better of him the longer that Eddie stood there.  It felt like hours.  Long, silence filled hours where no one spoke and he dangled from a weak branch of his own social awkwardness. In reality it was only seconds before Amanda giggled like a crushing school girl, dropping her gaze to break the spell she had unwittingly cast, “Well, that’s awfully kind of you…?” Clearly she was prompting him.  It was unfair that she was at the disadvantage of not knowing his name when he had learned hers through the forced politeness of the customer service industry.  Behind her, Carly snorted as they watched Eddie extend a heavy ringed hand, taking Amanda’s in his own.  Raising it high enough to press a chaste kiss to the back, adding a saucy wink for good measure as he answered, “Eddie.  I’m Eddie.” “Eddie.”  Amanda wasn’t aware that she’d whispered it out loud until her friend was reaching past her, extending her own hand Eddie’s way for a greeting, using her flirty voice to try and charm the very handsome, very out of place guy, “Carly.  That’s me.  And-” dropping her hand when Eddie failed to take it, Carly laughed ruefully, “-you don’t care.” Carly was absolutely right.  Neither one of them paid her any attention because the world as Amanda knew it no longer existed.  Not anymore. There was a new sun, a new sky.  One with raven curls and plump, pink lips.  A center of the galaxy that smelled like Aqua Velva and cinnamon gum and something mossy green.  The world had shifted off its axis, tipping her right into the arms of Eddie Munson. For Eddie, well, he had been gone from the second Amanda had tangled herself around him so tightly that she’d almost fallen.  But it was amazing to recognize that these feelings he was having were mutual.  He got shy then, toeing at the patch of grass in front of her, hands in his pockets while he played at casual, “Wanna get outta here?” Nodding wordlessly, Amanda agreed, only to realize her unspoken intention.  “Yea!  Uh, yes.  Yes.  That would be nice.” When Eddie cocked his chin up, the smile on his face was dazzling, “Excellent.”

— She was sure that she told the band where she was going and who she was leaving with, but Amanda couldn’t be certain.  It felt like so long ago.  An age had passed since she had been standing on the simple stage, singing for all of Hawkins to hear.  Since then, the long ago days of the early evening, so much had happened. Eddie had held her hand as he walked her to his van, holding open the door and ensuring that Amanda was tucked safely inside.  Boys didn’t do that- not for Amanda Patterson.  Not for the chubby girl who still had her baby weight to lose. When he caught her nibbling worriedly at her bottom lip, Eddie asked pointedly, “Everything alright?” “Uh, yea, I just-” “Afraid I’m trying to kidnap you, huh?  I get it.  Vans do have a-” he waggled his eyebrows suggestively while pressing the tip of his tongue to the center of his top lip, “-certain reputation.  But I promise you, Amanda.  No funny business.”  With one hand over his heart, Eddie extended the other, holding his pinky finger out. She recognized the gesture.  Every school aged kid would.  “Is that- are you making a pinky promise?”

His cheeks split into a solar powered smile as he nodded, “Oh, yes.  Absolutely.  And it’s ironclad, since, ya know, we link our little fingers.” Chuckling with her whole body, her shoulders lifted as Amanda agreed by reaching out her own pinky, “Ok, ok.  No funny business.”

They wrapped their littlest fingers around the other, huffing out laughs like naughty children.  And it did comfort any nagging fears that might have flooded Amanda’s mind because it was so silly.  So unexpected.  It was also entirely sincere. Roaring to life like a beast roused from slumber, the van started and Eddie shifted into gear, “Are you, by any chance, hungry?”

He was hoping against hope that she was because Eddie wasn’t ready to say goodnight.  Not now when he finally had this beautiful songbird buckled into the passenger’s seat, looking at him with those electric eyes.  Eyes that kept pulling him in anytime he dared glance Amanda’s way, now fully focused on him and beaming. Normally a question like that would be fully loaded for a young woman very aware of her size and stature, but for the first time and without any hesitation, Amanda answered without reservation, “Starved.”

Exhaling through a grin, Eddie shook his hair off his shoulders, “Then let’s go!” The drive to the diner was filled with chatter.  He offered kind words about the band, the concert and her vocals.  “You, you’re just incredible.  Never heard someone sing like that before.” “Thanks, but truthfully, Carly and Mark and Jim, they make me sound better.”  Amanda did that thing where she deflected the words, the attention, to anyone else in order to minimize herself.  What she didn’t count on?  Eddie’s ability to see right through her. Blowing his bangs off his face, Eddie swiveled to face Amanda, his tone finally serious, “Uh uh.  Nope.  No way.  You’re gonna have to accept that you’re the star of the show, sweetheart.”  Then, he leaned over the center console, right into Amanda’s personal space to bump her shoulder with his own, “Please, take the compliment.” Her jaw snapped shut, hands in her lap where Amanda fooled around her with fingernails, fidgeting.  She swallowed thickly and bobbed her head, her voice gaining strength.  “You’re right.  I, uh, I appreciate you saying that.” “No problem at all, hun.  I’m only telling the truth.”  That’s when she noticed his little finger wiggling her way, “Pinky promise.” — Normally Amanda would frown at the idea of a booth.  They tended to be a tight squeeze, embarrassingly so when she’d have to slide across the bench, her supple thighs sticking to the tacky pleather. She desperately did not want to be embarrassed in front of the forthright dude in front of her. But Amanda didn’t need to worry.  Eddie, lacing her hand in his, tugged her to the back table, “My usual spot- out of the way and the most comfortable one in the place.” Deep and roomy, the color of jellied cranberry sauce from a can, the cushion was accommodating because of its indeterminate age.  She plopped onto the seat with room to spare, more than a little relieved, “Oh yea?” “Yea.  I’ve been breaking it in for years.” Cocking her head in a way that made Eddie’s breath hitch, a clever half teasing smile curling one corner of her mouth higher than the other, Amanda joked, “So you bring all your women here, then?” The deep barking laugh that came straight from Eddie’s chest made an elderly gentleman sitting at the countertop turn around with a scowl.  “All my women?  You make me sound like a lothario.” “Mr. Goodbar?  Is that you?”  She squinted her eyes, leaning into the bit. “Oh, Mandy, honey.  I am nowhere near that good with the ladies.” “I don’t know.  You’re doing pretty good with me, so far.”  And it was out of her mouth like a runaway rocket.  There was no way to pull it back, no way to reign it in.  It was there- out in the ether, like a comet bound to crash through the atmosphere. Amanda froze because now she’d done it.  She had pointed out her interest, revealed herself as wanting, knowing that any other time she had dared to give voice to her attraction it had always been met with let down and heart ache.  The embarrassment boiled through her. God, she had wanted so badly to play it cool.  To ensure that Eddie was really into her before making any kind of declaration that couldn’t be passed off as a joke.  Stewing, Amanda waited for the inevitable rejection from the man far prettier and sexier than she should ever hope to have for her own. But instead of a dismissive shrug or, worse, a comment about liking her as a ‘just friend’, Amanda got to watch as Eddie’s eyes lit up joyfully.  He couldn’t hide it either, apparently, since his smile widened enough to show off a pair of precious dimples, “Yea?  Ya think so?  That’s- uh, that’s good to hear.” Something about his own reckless enthusiasm caused the flood of worry to ebb away, leaving Amanda filled with a warm, gooey sensation that was not as familiar.  Could it be?  Was this what mutual attraction felt like?  Was this what love songs had been selling for generations and greeting card companies were always trying to find new ways to describe?  Was this… love? “Hey lovebirds, what can I get ya?”  It is a universal law that wait staff appear at the table when it is least convenient and this interruption by Cheryl ensured that all was right with the cosmos, her tiny pencil poised and ready to write. They had spent no time reading the menu, but Eddie had it memorized cover to cover.  Looking at Amanda, he nodded, “So, uh, do you trust me?” Again, her head tilted, appraising this nearly perfect stranger with the gorgeous grin and shaggy hair.  “Uh huh, yea.  I trust you.  Why do you ask?” Licking over his lips, he turned all of his unfiltered attention to their waitress, dialing the charm up to eleven, “Hiya Cheryl!” “Hi yourself, Eddie.  What’s it gonna be?”  There was a familiarity there that spoke of too many late night coffee cups and slices of pie.  It wasn’t friendly, really, but it was warm enough and Eddie’s puppy dog eyes moved the conversation into safer waters. “Hmm… patty melts.  Two please, with the curly fries, ok?” A curt nod answered his request, “Yea, and to drink?” He looked at Amanda, that impish twinkle shining bright in his cinnamon dark eyes, “Milkshakes?” “Oh!  Yes!  Vanilla for me, please.”  She beamed at Eddie, excitement at the consideration evident in Amanda’s face. “And I suppose you want chocolate, right Eddie?” Cheryl lifted her gaze from the scribble filled notepad to stare down at Amanda’s dinner companion. Placing his ring covered hand over his chest, Eddie batted his eyes, “You know the way to my heart, Cheryl.” Snorting approvingly at his antics, she jotted down Eddie’s preferred flavor, “All right kids, be right up.” And she wasn’t kidding because before either of them could let the silence grow, two tall and frosty milkshake glasses were being slid across the glittering formica, each topped with a mound of whipped cream and a luscious, over sweet cherry as a crown.  A pair of straws were tossed down without much thought and Amanda greedily grabbed one, eager to taste the delectable treat in front of her. “So, tell me about you.  What do you- like, what do you do for fun?”  Eddie was toying with his straw’s paper wrapper, making small talk and working hard at looking effortless.  He hadn’t been out like this, with a girl he was so into, in ages.  Maybe ever, really, and he was rusty, more than a little out of practice. Amanda swirled her own straw through the thick vanilla shake in front of her, biting into her bottom lip before replying, “Well, I work.  A lot.”  “At the Music Shop?” She shrugged, “Yup.  But it’s not all restocking sheet music and replacing guitar strings.  I teach-” “Like guitar?”  Something about the prospect was so exciting.  A fellow musician to noodle around with and she just happened to have the voice of an angel?  Was this paradise found, or what? Amanda nodded at his eager response, “Yea.  Also some keyboard, like, really beginner piano, ya know?” Eddie slurped at his chocolate shake, brain going a mile a minute.  Shaking his long hair off his shoulders, nearly gawking, he clicked his tongue before sighing deeply, “It’s not really fair.” Worry filled Amanda’s features.  Had she done something wrong?  It had all been going so well, maybe too well?  “What’s not fair?” Rapping his ringed knuckles against the tabletop before pointing her way, “You.  You’re like, too good to be true.” Shy now, Amanda turned away from his kindness, his honeyed praises, and fiddled nervously with the pendant of her necklace.  It wasn’t something she had a ton of experience with; flirting and compliments and genuine appreciation.  If she was on a stage, under a white hot spotlight, Amanda would know exactly what to say, what to do, but here on the worn out bench seat of a small town diner, Amanda found herself unmoored by all the attention Eddie was sending her way. “Oh, that’s like- I mean, I’m not-” she let her voice trail off, suddenly transfixed by something outside of the plate window. “Hey-” Eddie laid his hand, palm up, on the worn down table, his voice dropping to a whisper.  He’d said something to upset Amanda because she had taken those brilliant peepers away and that felt wrong on a primal level. “-Amanda?  Did I- uh, shit.  Did I do something, ya know, wrong?  Shit.” There was something in the defeated sound of Eddie’s expletive that brought her around.  She saw his open hand, still laying on the table and cautiously linked her fingers with his.  But she still could not meet his questioning look.  Twirling one of those big, heavy rings around his large and frankly, distracting fingers, Amanda finally huffed out a lungful of air. “I guess I should like, be honest here and tell you that I’ve never really done this.”  She motioned between the pair of them with her unoccupied hand as if that alone would explain her behavior. Eddie squeezed her fingers for a second, a trace of teasing in his tone when he asked, “Had dinner in a shitty diner?” Rolling her eyes skyward, she snorted out a small laugh, “No.  Well, kinda?  I mean, I haven’t really had a-” she let her eyes lock onto Eddie’s maple brown ones, holding him still, “-a date.  I, uh, never really had anyone, ya know, wanna take me out.  So, this is new.  For me, anyway.” Eddie could see what the admission cost her.  The once pleased smile now turned just a little pouty as her bottom lip puckered from the effort of opening herself up.  Her chest rose and fell rapidly as if she couldn’t keep the air inside her for too long, but perhaps the most telling was the way that Amanda’s hand clung tightly to Eddie’s. For a long second neither one of them said anything.  The kitchen crew could be heard, banging around pots and plates.  Another couple in a nearby booth was laughing loudly.  The radio was tuned to the oldies station so everyone could listen to Sam Cooke singing about Cupid. And when Amanda realized that Eddie wasn’t going to respond, she sat up, stiffer than before, readying to take her hand with her.  But Eddie closed his fist around her fingers, keeping his hold on her and tugging her gently forward, a pained pinch obvious in his voice, “Me either.” “What?” He closed his eyes and swallowed thickly, “I don’t date.  Uh, that often.”  Popping one eye open, just to see if Amanda was still with him, Eddie continued, “Um, I’ve got a bit of a, well, a reputation.  And for some reason, the ladies around here aren’t into that.” Shooting for levity, Eddie hoped to lighten the mood.  Moments like this, where he was on display emotionally, where he was open and vulnerable, made him nervous.  Anxious.  Twitchy.  It was fucking scary to be sitting here with this pretty bird and tell her how much of a disaster he really was with no bravado to use as armor.  And if Amanda wasn’t already heading for the hills, there was no way he would be able to stop her now. “It’s the van, isn’t it?  All the people you’ve attempted to kidnap, right?”  At her gentle jest, both of Eddie’s eyes popped open.  She was still there, sitting sweetly behind her melting shake, a tentative twist of her lips making it impossible for Eddie to stop imagining what kissing her would be like and he felt himself nodding with a hoarse giggle, relieved, “Yea.  That’s, uh, that’s it.  I’m just a creepy metal head with a super creepy van.” “You probably have candy too and uh, puppies?  For the luring of innocents?” “Of course.  What’s a kidnapper without his bait?”  “A weird guy with an empty van?”  And that absolutely shitty punchline was enough to send them both into a giggle fit, shattering any lingering tension created by being a touch too honest in the moment.  There would be a better time to talk about deep dark secrets and the reasons why two lonely people could find comfort in each other, but this wasn’t it. When Amanda pulled her hand back this time, Eddie let it go.  She used her napkin to dab under her eyes, clearing away the tears that laughing together had created.  Then she was dipping down to slurp at her creamy concoction, grinning, “This is so good!” “Right?  But, I gotta say, vanilla is-” “What?  What’s wrong with vanilla?”  Shaking his head with a laugh, Eddie raised his eyebrows, “Vanilla is kinda boring.” “It is not!”  Scalded by his choice of words, Amanda leaned over their shared table at the diner, motioning him closer.  When she was near enough for her now vanilla scented breath to skate across Eddie’s mouth, Amanda husked, “Vanilla is smoky.  Sweet.  It’s hard to grow, super hard to harvest and while there are many imitators out there.  Real vanilla.  The good stuff?  Well, that shit would rock your world.” Amanda, feeling bolder, pushed in tighter despite the formica between them, continuing in a hushed tone.  “And Eddie-” her voice dropped even lower, forcing him to concentrate on every word leaving her tenderly parted lips, lips that smelled like bourbon and sugar and cream.  Lips that Eddie wanted to taste so badly that he was sure he was going to go mad, right here in the goddamned diner, before their burgers ever made it to the table.  Lips that begged to be kissed stupid, carried on, unaware of his rising desire, “-never forget this: chocolate needs vanilla to taste so damn good!”  Sitting back, pleased as punch now that her point was made, Amanda slurped down another sip of her vanilla shake.  Eddie needed a minute.  Or seven.  He was still almost lying chest down on the booth’s table, having to cock his head up to look at the vanilla loving vixen gloating over him.  Spreading his broad hands over the tabletop, Eddie dramatically pushed himself back into his seat, eyeing Amanda warily, acting contrary for the fun of it.  “It’s a good story, kid.  But I’m still not convinced about vanilla’s superiority.  Maybe-”  He was pushing his luck, he knew it.  God, but he knew it only too well.  She’d admitted to being new to all this, inexperienced, but still, fortune favors the bold, isn’t that what some famous person had said once?  Amanda, unknowingly, waited for his follow-up, her mouth wrapped around the striped straw, her cheeks round and smiling, “Maybe?” Leaning onto one leather wrapped elbow, Eddie reclaimed the space at the center of their table, “Maybe I need to taste it again?” She’s confused.  Yea, definitely, confused.  So Amanda moved, ready to slide her icy half filled glass his way.  But Eddie shook his head slowly and waved her forward until their foreheads were almost pressed together.  That’s when he cupped her cheek, gently, softly and Amanda, powerless to stop her body, nuzzled into the warmth there. It felt natural.  Right.  Easy.  And there was no way that Amanda was going to deny herself this little bit of pleasure being offered so openly. If what Eddie had admitted was true, and the way his eyes had scrunched gave her a pretty good idea that it was, then he was in uncharted waters himself.  Something about that idea, that they were both in this raging waterfall of connection together made it safer somehow.  It made it easier to shut her own eyes and enjoy the calloused caresses of Eddie. Eddie slid his thumb over her plush bottom lip which parted without question, “Wanna taste you.  That alright, Mandy?” God, did she like being called Mandy.  She bobbed her head ‘yes’, her eyes shut from the want, already anticipating Eddie’s movements.  But he surprised her again, asking- no, telling, “Open your eyes, baby.  Please?” And only when Eddie could spy the blown open pupils of his dinner companion did he allow his mouth to surge forward.  His slightly chapped lips separated enough for his tongue to sweep across Amanda’s own and he was rewarded with a sultry sigh.  It made Eddie braver.  Bolder.  

Now he was intrepid in his search for the flavor of vanilla, teasing and taking a taste of every muggy corner of her mouth.  His tongue brushed against her own, the fresh flavor of vanilla sweetness everywhere.  Heady and exotic and exciting.  Amanda tipped her chin downward, ready to deepen this first kiss that arched over forgotten milkshakes and the paper napkins wrapping up their silverware, tentatively running the tip of her tongue over Eddie’s teeth.  Traces of chocolate and the syrupy sweet cherry from the top of his treat lingered on Eddie’s lips making Amanda hum harmonically.  Her fingers fisted into the collar of his flannel shirt, ensuring that Eddie couldn’t escape, at least, not without effort. But she wasn’t worried.  When his second hand molded to the curve of her other cheek, Amanda couldn’t avoid smiling, knowing that Eddie was as into this as she was.  As far as first kisses went, this one was ranking pretty high on the list of all time greats and both were reluctant to pull away first. “Ahem!  AHEM!  I have your order.” Two heads turned toward the intruding voice of the bored and bordering on disgusted server Doris but Eddie and Amanda didn’t jump apart like a couple of randy teens might have.  Oh no, Amanda leaned further into the cup of Eddie’s palm, offering their put upon server a small smile, dazed and almost drunkenly, “Hmm, thank you so much.” Eddie would have rather died than forfeit the pleasure of her trusting touch.  With his free left hand he reached for one of the two plates, “Here, lemme have that.” “Whatever.”  Without any further ceremony, Doris, because that’s what her name tag read, plopped both heavy ceramic dishes to the table, “Need anything else lovebirds?” Amanda lifted her head slowly, licking over her bee stung lips and nodded towards the pink cheeked shaggy headed boy still draped across their booth, “Uh, yea.  Could we have another vanilla shake, please?  It’s his favorite flavor.” Chuckling, Eddie let his broad thumb with the bitten down nail graze over the apple of her cheek, speaking to Doris but only looking at Amanda, “Two cherries, huh, Doris?” Rolling her elderly eyes, the waitress shook her head, “Right away.” Steam rolled off the two cheeseburger melts and stacks of seasoned french fries but they remained huddled as close at the table between them would allow.  Cocking his eyebrow, Eddie couldn’t help the teasing, “My favorite, huh?” “Oh yea.  You’re a convert now.” Settling back reluctantly, Eddie smirked your way, “Ever think that you’re my favorite flavor?” He was rewarded with a small kiss pressed to the inside of his wrist and what he realized was a trademark tilt of her head, “I told you that everything tastes better with vanilla, Eddie.” “Yea, you sure did.”  Biting into his burger, Eddie grinned through the grease on his face, sure he had never been happier in his short life.  And if the triumphant smirk Amanda flashed his way proved anything, she felt the exact same way.

— The second their empty plates had been cleared away, Eddie’s hand naturally kind of reached for Amanda’s, needy and greedy for the reassurance of touch.  Just as natural, Amanda slotted her fingers between his, “I gotta say, Eddie, that was a pretty amazing burger.” Pleased at the recognition, Eddie squeezed her digits for a second, “Thanks for trusting me.”  And then he seemed to realize the full implication of his statement.  Thanks for trusting him on the drive over.  Thanks for trusting his judgment about the restaurant and not just his menu choices.  Thanks for trusting his intentions. Her eyes rounded at the sentiment, giving Eddie a flash of sympathy before leaning into a flirty smile, “I had to.  You did pinky promise me that there would be no funny business and that’s ironclad.  At least, that’s what I’ve been led to believe.” “God, you remember everything, huh?”  But he sounded impressed.  Happy that she hadn’t lingered on his more revealing comment. Nodding, Amanda agreed, “Yea, I mean, I kinda have an ear and it’s always been easy for me to memorize stuff.  Lyrics, melodies, lines from movies-” Leaning forward again, engaged and interested, Eddie licked over his bottom lip, “No shit?” “No shit!” Eddie couldn’t help it.  He let his eyes roam over the pretty face in front of him, etching all of the details into his own memory, vowing never to forget the greasy sweet shine of her lips around the red striped straw or how she folded her disposable napkin up primly before laying it across her dinner plate.  The way Amanda’s hand felt so right in his and how her mouth tasted like vanilla ice cream with a trace amount of menthol throat drop lingering along her teeth. Eddie needed to remember it all for later.  For tonight when he went back to his trailer, like a gentleman.  For tomorrow or the day after or the day after that.  For all the days that would spread between this time together and the next time Eddie would be able to see her.  He was going to live off the sound of Amanda’s begrudging laugh when he made a joke that was funnier than it had any real right to be.  He planned to survive on the nourishment of her sugared sighs when those perfect, plump and pouty lips had welcomed Eddie’s own.  It was food for his soul.  Essential for life like oxygen or water. “Uh, Eddie?”  Amanda’s quiet question yanked him out of his own head and back into the present moment. He tugged the forward chunk of his hair between his long fingers, embarrassed at being caught, “Hmm?”  “You’re, uh, staring.” “Yea.  Sorry about that.  It’s just-” “Do I have something on my face?”  Panicked, Amanda patted at her cheeks to find the non-existent stain. And how could he help himself?  “Oh, yup.  A little higher.  No, lower- uh, nope, other side.  It’s right there-” he directed her wildly, pointing at the corner of his mouth to watch Amanda lick the same spot of her own, “-almost.  How do you keep missing it?” “You little shit!”  It was suddenly crystal clear that Eddie was full on fucking with her.  There never had been anything on her face. “What?  You got it.  Just now.”  Eddie’s impish grin made it impossible for Amanda to be truly mad so she settled for shooting him a playfully spiteful glare, “Uh huh.  Yea, sure.” His thumb rubbed along the side of her pointer finger, the gentle drag a grounding reminder of Eddie’s unwavering presence.  Amanda rested her chin against the flat of her right palm before sighing deeply, “What am I gonna do with you, Eddie?” Reflexively, re-actively, he answered, “Whatever you want, baby.” It was Amanda’s turn to stare.  There was an open honesty in the hot coffee color of Eddie’s eyes that hooked her right through the heart and tugged like a caught fish on a rusty lure.  He was being serious, there was no denying it. Around them the air shifted.  It was no longer funny.  It was no longer polite. The world narrowed once more, big enough for only the two of them and the dingy diner booth where they sat as everything else fell away. Her throat tightened and a lick of heated flame unfurled through her belly.  Words flooded her thoughts but Amanda couldn’t seem to settle on the ones that would say what she wanted desperately to express.  Eddie’s seemingly simple declaration had untethered her. Because it was too soon to speak with such clarity of purpose.  Too early for the implication of more to be made.  And yet, for the first time, Amanda saw the ghostly shape of possibility in the earnest expression Eddie wore. There was a promise there, stronger than one created when two little fingers linked, and something about that was spooky.  Scary.  Only, Amanda didn’t feel frightened like she thought she should, shrugging smoothly, “I- I wanna stay with you.” That was her truth, in the singular sparkling now.  Leaving Eddie, even for the comfort of home, was a thought so daunting, so disruptive, that she was actively moving against it.  Everything in Amanda Patterson said ‘stay’.  Eddie’s head bobbed in understanding.  He had no intention of letting the night end so early and without any plan in place for a follow-up rendezvous.  At Amanda’s declaration, he’d changed the grip of her hand, turning it so that their palms touched, textured heat melding together.  

He’d be lying if he denied the libidinous way his blood shot south at the whispered want in Amanda’s voice.  He was a young and virile guy, after all.  But Eddie wasn’t thinking with his dick when he said, “I don’t wanna let you go, Mandy.”

“Am I-” pausing to catch her breath, Amanda started again, “-are we crazy?” “I uh, I don’t think so.”  Conspiratorially, Amanda huffed, “Then what do we do now, Eddie?” His free hand brushed through his curls roughly before landing on the back of his neck, “Let me take you home?” It was a question born of chivalry and Amanda agreed with a thin, “Yes, please.” Eddie stood up first, somehow managing to keep her hand in his as he slipped out of the booth smoothly.  Once he was on his feet, he tugged lightly, bringing Amanda to the edge of the bench before offering his arm.  She watched as Eddie threw some loose bills on the table and then he was leading her outside of the bacon scented diner and onto the sidewalk. She floated at his side, the swaying of her skirt brushing against the stiff denim of Eddie’s jeans.  What had been an appropriate outfit for the early evening was now a bit too thin and he saw her shiver under the bright and clear Indiana sky.  Popping open the van’s door, he saw her settled inside and as she buckled her seatbelt, Eddie shrugged off his leather jacket, “Here.  Snuggle up under this, yea?” Gripping the body warm coat with greedy fingers, Amanda clutched it to her chest, humming her thanks.  He watched as she spread it over herself, nudging the collar with her nose, “Oh man, it smells like you!” “Cigarettes and bad decisions?” “Nope.”  Inhaling deeply, she thought for a minute, “Cologne?  Aqua Velva, like my granddad wears and uh, Green Apple shampoo?”  She couldn’t hide the surprised way her eyes widened or the knowing little smirk her mouth made at this discovery. “What?  I think it smells good.”  Lingering in the space between inside the van with Amanda and outside on the sidewalk, Eddie’s arms leaned into the rusted metal frame, effectively caging her in the seat. Not that she minded when every time he stretched his flannel shirt rode up just enough for an alabaster white slice of belly to peek over the waistband of his jeans.  She had already noticed splashes of black ink over each hip but couldn’t be sure of its shape.  His forearms were on display, the strong veins of his wrists visible under the artfully stained skin, and Amanda let her mind wander at the idea of what Eddie looked like under all that cotton and cloth. Amanda swallowed thickly.  She was very aware of the protective bubble Eddie had built around her, here in the cab of his vehicle.  The scent of him.  The sight.  It was a feast for the senses. And now all she wanted was to taste the plush and pillowy softness of his lips.  Lips that were moving, saying something but her mind had gone over into staticy silver.  She couldn’t help it.  Not when he was standing with his trim waist nearly at eye level, the belt of his jeans drawing them low on his hips.  “Huh?” That grin.  Broad and toothy, spread smugly over his face, “Uh, did I lose you for a second?” “Hmm, yea.  Kinda.  Sorry, what were you saying?” “I was saying, I don’t want to say goodnight, at least-” he raised a hand to her cheek, brushing the calloused pad of his thumb across her smooth skin, “-not so soon.” Having already melted into his touch, hoarse and throaty, she agreed, “Yea, no, me either.” “Yea?  So, if you’re up for a little adventure, I may have an idea.” Amanda lifted an eyebrow, questioning the boy before her with a sarcastic thread to her words,  “An adventure?” “Don’t worry, babe.  I'll make sure to get you there and back again.”  His pinkie finger was wiggling, just waiting for Amanda to link them together in a silent show of trust. —

Thanks for reading!  Part 2 is coming soon!

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[tinynewfiegirl]

Study sesh pt.2

Read pt.1 here: https://www.tumblr.com/tinynewfiegirl/717443542939795456/study-sesh?source=share

A/N: Yeah for sure here you go, I'm really glad people liked that one! Thank you all for the support it's very motivating xx

Warnings: Smut, p in v, making out

Ethan Landry x reader

Word count; 1,416

For the last five minutes me and Ethan tumbled all around my bed, my tongue down his throat and his soft hand up my shirt. My bed was a MESS, the sheets tangled in a ball and comforter half on the bed, with most of our clothing scattered across my entire room. I'd certainly need to clean this up before my roommates got home. Sam and Tara don't need any other boys showing up at the apartment with Quinn’s habits it's already enough for all of

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 Our liking, plus they all know Ethan, so it'd be incredibly awkward if I don’t get him home before they get back. I mean sure, we could tell them we were just studying, which technically we were until.. Hormones. “Mmm.. nnggh- please” Ethan pulls away panting, his free hand going from my hair to my waist “Please i need you, now.” he whines against my lips, not being able to keep them off me for much longer than a few seconds. In these past 15 minutes Ethan’s become much more confident and skillful, he's learning to know what I

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 Like quickly, and I'm noticing he likes when I gently tug on his curls, it earns me a sharp whine and a buck of his hips. “Mmm- fuck ok- yes ok” I rush out, half sitting up from under him to rip my panties off as he does the same with his boxers, we’re now completely naked and vulnerable infront of eachother. “Fuck- I don’t have a condom” Ethan curses as he Rummages through his jean pockets, tossing the material back on the floor in defeat. I laugh, kind of expecting this, I mean he's a virgin I'm not surprised he's not carrying around

                                                           ⚘

 Contraceptives. “It's ok Eth, I have some.. I didn't really expect you to have any anyway'' I start rummaging through my desk drawers and grab the condom box I had stashed away, it's been awhile. Ethan gasps in obvious offence at my little remark, “Hey! What does that mean” he whines, “you're a virgin, no?” I tease quirking and eyebrow “well.. Yea” he ducks his head down, blush creeping up his neck as he's obviously embarrassed again. “Ethan I told you,

                                                           ⚘

 Don't be embarrassed about being  a virgin, it's ok… Plus you won't have to worry about that any longer” I smirk as I drop to my knees in front of him at the end of the bed. His eyes widen with excitement but I can see he's a little timid so I place a warm hand on his thigh soothingly. “It's ok.. I'll do it for you" I whisper, assuming he doesn't have much experience with putting condoms on (hence his lack of sexual experiences) then I'm ripping the condom

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 Wrapper open with my teeth and he nods quickly, looking away from me like he’ll cum on the spot if he doesn't. I gingerly roll the condom down his length and he lets out a shaky breath as I do so, tossing head back and I waste no time crawling onto the bed, following him back till his back hits the headboard and I crawl on top of him. I position my core over the tip of him but look up at him first before I slide down onto him. I bring my hand up to cup his face

                                                          ⚘

 And he wiggles under me impatiently, I place my other hand delicately on his chest and lean in close to his face. “E… Are you sure you want this?” he tosses his head back in both amusement and frustration, “have I not made it obvious enough!?” he half laughs, grip tightening on my hips and I giggle against his mouth. “Ok then…'' I say in a hushed voice, finally letting myself slide down onto him, at the slow action he can't help but buck his hips

                                                         ⚘

 Up into me which forces a sharp gasp out of my throat. He's whimpering incredibly loud into my neck and he hasn't even bottomed out yet, it's adorable. Once I've reached the base of his cock I just sit there for a second, wanting to tease the poor boy as much as I can. I can't help it when he's so cute and whiny, plus I love hearing him beg and cry for me to give him more. “F-fuck! Why’d you stop? Keep going please please” he begs out, not keeping his

                                                         ⚘

 Volume down either, if any of my roommates come home early there will be no hiding what we are doing. “Ethan you need to quiet dow-” “Move!” he cries out, pleading at me with his big chocolaty brown eyes, tears brimming at the corners which makes me grin. In response I just roll my hips, hands still pressed against his chest, and I can't help but laugh again when he practically screams, one of his big hands leaving my hip to instantly cover his mouth,

                                                         ⚘

 Realising he probably just alerted the whole neighbourhood. “Ethan jesus christ!” I throw my head back in laughter, biting my lip to stop any moans from coming out since Ethan is still inside of me, throbbing. “I'm sorry I’m sorry… Please, I'll be quiet” he pleads, hand meeting my hip again and I smile, leaning down pressing my lips against his, the kiss is soft and warm and I'm confident I could stay like this with him forever. I slowly begin to roll my hips

                                                          ⚘

 Again, starting to gain a pace that we both seem to like, and Ethan's now muffled moans into his palm is confirming that. I can tell he's trying to quiet himself down and it makes me Feel special again, knowing that I'm making him feel like this, making him need to control himself but struggling so badly. “Please, go faster” he asks, biting his bottom lip which makes me groan from the rush of pleasure that courses through me at the sight, and how his cock

                                                         ⚘

 Suddenly starts drilling into me at an animalistic pace. “Hum-nghh Ethan please! Not so fast, there's no rush… We can take it slow" I reassure him, not wanting him to rush his first time just to please me, even though god this does feel good. “I know I know, but I want to-” “I won't let you. This is your first time, just me please you” I can see him give in by the way his head tosses back, a little breathy whimper coming out in defeat. With that I almost instantly

                                                          ⚘

 Start rolling my hips again, already desperate for a release but forcing myself to prolong it for both of our benefits, this can't be over yet. I can feel him growing close by how he's twitching inside me, but by the look on his face I can also tell he's trying to hold on as long as he can, which relieves me a little because so am I. “Mmm- Ethan look at me” I say cupping his face again, continuing my assault on his cock as he looks up at me with glossy

                                                         ⚘

 And concentrated eyes “let go” I breathe out onto his lips, “what?” he asks, obviously confused, his mind fogged with lust. “Let go.. Cum, cum for me” I don't know if he was being obedient or if my words pushed him off the edge but suddenly he groans loudly and with a sharp buck of his hips he's cumming. The feeling of his warm spurts of cum coating my insides is enough to push me over the edge as well, as I cling onto his shoulders for dear life, a moaning mess as my hips stutter over his cock. It takes us a minute of clashing mouths and hips before our breathing regulates again. I pull off of him but still stay planted on top of his chest, wrapping an arm up to run my fingers through his curls. “Thank you” he says quietly into the top of my head, his breath tickling my scalp. “You're welcome” I kiss his cheek.

                                                          ⚘

A/N; I’m really sorry for making you guys wait, I'm a huge procrastinator but I'm pushing through that for you guys! LOL. please send in some more requests on my request pages, I’m looking forward to it! xx

[hotxrod]

"It needs it," he repeated her words with a slow nod of his head. "Just so happens I'm a saint who specializes in cleansing dark souls. You leave it to me, Cece — I'll cleanse the ever-lovin' devil right outta you." He gave a click of his tongue and a wink of his eye, as if he was the most charismatic car salesman alive, selling a hot piece of tin trash on wheels. As clear as the blue skies on a summer's day, Danny was obviously enjoying the way the younger brunette seemed to be able to match his energy, and then some. Unlike the women he was normally surrounded with, Cecilia Salazar was already much more engaging then what he was used to being matched against. Her quick wit was refreshing, her twisted sense of humor was divine, and there was this certain air of mystery enveloping her that he had a wicked urge to sift through.

It wasn't until all six foot and a couple inches of him were towering over her, did Danny realize just how much of a height difference there was between them. He also couldn't betray the amusement in thinking how easy it would be for him to just scoop her up in his arms, like nothing.

A dark eyebrow quirked as a pensive hum vibrated against the back of his throat, choosing his next words cautiously. "I wouldn't say that's all I'm after. If you're gonna hang out with me all night, that's the real prize. The wishes will just be a big ol' bonus ... when I win." And just as if it had never left, the infamous smirk returned to his features, masking the dizzy effect she had on him. The weekend had barely even started and, already, Danny could tell he was going to be in trouble with her around.

As Cece mentioned, again, the shirt he was depriving her of, it was then that Danny straightened up once more. Tilting his head a little to one side as he peered down at the brunette, he took a moment as if envisioning her in one of his shirts. A tactic to further tease her, which also backfired on himself as he caught his lower lip between his teeth, a means of distraction from the carnal thoughts that threatened to flood his mind. "Alright, the more you talk about it, the more I can definitely picture you in one of my shirts. And if you really want one ... don't think I'd be able to say no to you." While he enjoyed the relentless banter being tossed back and forth, it was almost terrifying how easily swept up he was getting in everything about Cece, and it left him wondering if he truly ever could say no to her.

With the assurance of keeping her close, the adrenaline junkie certainly wouldn't decline giving her another ride, if ever requested. Her cutely veiled threat to hold him true to his promise just got a chuckle out of Danny.

Without verbally admitting to it, he hoped that she would.

His ears perked up slightly at the mention of her family, small smirk tugging up the corners of his mouth hidden away behind the visor of his helmet. It left him feeling curious, wondering how contrasted or comparable the Salazar household had been to his own. The thought of having a handful of siblings always sounded like it'd be fun, to Danny. He'd grown up as an only child, and while he'd nurtured connections that resembled a sibling-like bond, it wasn't exactly the same; he was still missing out on that specific tether that only siblings could share.

At the minimum, that was all he could assume.

"Oh yeah? Well, if you end up still liking it up here, after being stuck with me all weekend, maybe ... maybe you could bring them around sometime." Quickly following up the offer with an effortless shrug of one shoulder, the mechanic attempted to pass it off as nonchalant as possible, without looking any further into it. It had come out faster than his brain could process the possibility of it being too forward, a little too soon. However, he couldn't be blamed for the hopeful feeling that this weekend was going to be one for the books, and, with the way her arms tightened around his torso just enough to send a small shiver down his spine, this wouldn't be the last he'd see of Cecilia Salazar.

"Fifty?" A hearty laugh soon erupted from the older blond, giving a shake of his head at the numbers she tossed out there. "Nah, we rarely go that hard up here. This is more of an escape for us from all the crowds and shit — we keep it lowkey." He hummed in thought for a moment, almost in sync with the motor his bike, before finally answering her. "I wanna say closer to ten. Maybe a little less, depending on who all decides to show up." And whoever Rob decided to slip a sneaky invite. Leave it to his younger cousin to spice up a perfectly relaxed getaway. "Why, were you hoping for a banger party? We've tried it a couple times, but the park rangers around here tend to frown on all the traffic."

While the view of the mountain at the cable car station was certainly in its rights of being absolutely breathtaking, Danny knew of another spot. A little more elevated, heavily wooded with a small opening — it had an even better view of the layout, if one could imagine to be possible. Thickly treaded tires sent snow spraying behind them as Danny carefully maneuvered the bike around trees and shrubbery, until slowly coming to a stop on the segregated hill he'd visit often to unscramble his troubled mind.

"See that?" He leaned back a little, head turning more toward Cece before outstretching an arm to point at a specific area of the mountain, in the distance. The Adler Estate, miles away atop Blackwood Mountain, was warmly lit up against the otherwise dreary cold of winter, evidence of someone already making themselves at home in the main lodge. "That's where the magic happens."

It was amusing to imagine Daniel Adler, a man with a love to get his hands dirty upon working on a vehicle, a saint. It made Cece cross her arms across her chest and lean on her hip, one corner of her lip curling into an amused half-smile. “If you’re a Saint, Danny, then I might have to come often during this trip for some cleansing of my,” she copied his cross movements, “very, very dark soul. It needs it.” It wasn’t a lie — Cecilia Salazar was a woman with secrets that often ruined lives; just because she was intoxicated most of the time did not mean that she was a good drunk. She was quite the opposite of that, which worked in her favor at first; nobody messed with her and her family. But it all came with a cost.

It was like he was doing all of this purposefully to get close to her. Not that it did not work, of course, but Cece hoped that at least she would give some sort of challenge, something to slow down the process of how much she already liked this interaction with Daniel. While it was true that they hit off well instantly from the moment they met, Salazar stored bad memories in that storage called memories — memories full of males that gave her the absolute ‘bad boy’ aesthetic, males that enjoyed a little bit of adrenaline, males that at the end hurt her. Daniel wasn’t helping her case at all with the way he eyed her up and down, undoubtedly already imagining her walking around the lodge in only a pair of bikini, and leaning down, tall frame almost enveloping her.

‘This man will give amazing hugs,’ were her first thoughts, thoughts which did not remain as innocent the more Daniel kept leaning over her and lowering his voice like it was meant for her and her only. It made something in Cecilia flutter. She kept the tough act up, however, for she was not going to back down now and offer Adler material to tease her with. But he was indeed crawling underneath her skin already. “Ah, you’re doing it for the wishes,” she nodded slowly, “well, Mr. Adler, if you play your cards right and you, let’s say, win — promise it’ll be worth it.” A shameless flirt. A last minute-thought comeback in the hopes she won’t be the only flustered one, though she might be if Danny kept towering over her. God, why was he so freaking tall?

Cecilia released quite the dramatic sigh before one hand pushed away a strand of brown lock that fell over her hazel orbs. “Well, there goes my chance for stealing myself a souvenir,” replied the brunette. “But, say, don’t guys like that? Girls in their shirts? Though, I have to admit that your shirt will most likely be a mini dress for me.”

“I’m gonna hold onto you about that free ride, Adler,” warned the young brunette with a finger waving towards him, before her adrenaline-loving heart sped up as Daniel hopped on the bike in a helmet that looked way more worn than her own. Wrapping her arms around his torso to hold onto, Cecilia took in the details of his helmet first before her mind processed the rest — of the firm muscles hidden underneath layers of clothing, of the fact that she was impossibly close and pressed against the older male’s back. Good thing she had a helmet on, for her hazel orbs could not focus on anything except his back.

To the point she almost did not hear him when he turned around to glance her way.

“Hm? Oh, I’m good. I’m fantastic!” nodded enthusiastically the young woman before forcing her head to shift towards the change of landscape — from the cable car station to the white-covered trees and ground. Most people would pull out their phones in order to take pictures and store them in their gallery for memory-purposes ( or to post them online ) but Cece never had that urge to reach for her device for such purposes. No, she took it all in with the intentions of re-creating it all on paper. “I don’t understand how people look at this gorgeous view and still choose summer,” commented Salazar. “If I had the chance, I’ll stay right here. I know that… my little sister hates the cold but my two brothers would love this.” Elisa, Victor and Sebastian were the only topic of her past she was willing to throw out there. Cece missed them, like she would miss a limb if amputated. Last she heard, those children were the top of their classes despite Victor showing signs of rebellion already. At least one family member resembled her in some way.

Clearing her throat, she subconsciously tightened her hold over Daniel’s torso as the thoughts of her siblings felt like a jab in her heart. “I never got to ask,” she changed the subject quickly, “how many people are we talking, in the lodge? Ten, twenty — fifty people?”

[starlightsearches]

I love the idea of coworker!eddie so much! and now I'm thinking about this nerd this doofus this absolute fucking sweet dork of a man leaning over the counter in between customers and making handmade buttons for the basket by the register to sell. He's got the classic styles, you know, band logos from a variety of genres but the bulk of them lean toward metal, as well as some goofier ones with gross jokes on them. But he makes some personalized ones for you, featuring your favorite bands and pickup lines, including one that says You're my rainbow in the dark because obviously he has to slip a Ronnie James Dio reference in there

He's stupid. He's perfect. I love him.

Mixtape

Yes, god, coworker! eddie lives inside my brain like a little mouse. Here's something I threw together because I love the idea of the pins 😩 Comments, likes and reblogs make me very happy!

Eddie x Gender Neutral Reader

Warnings: language, mutual pining, some angst, this one's a little sad in the end but I'm sure we'll see more of them at some point (if people are interested).

"Hey, asshole."

Eddie dodges the empty cardboard box you lob his way without much effort. He's gotten way better at sidestepping your attacks since he started here. You wish you could say the same for your aim.

"You planning on doing any work today?"

Eddie has the nerve to look offended—like you haven't been running around your whole shift, restocking shit and fixing the displays and helping everyone and their mother find a copy of Whitney Houston—holding a fist to his chest like he'd been stabbed.

"That hurts, baby. I am working. See?"

He shakes the basket of pins in front of him as you lean over the counter, smiling wide. It's that fucking smile that makes so many people buy his stupid buttons—even if they've never heard his any of the artists he's obsessed with, even if they're not worth the dollar fifty you're charging for them.

You set the basket back down, swallowing the butterflies in the back of your throat. "No offense, but I think we have enough Metallica pins to last us through the end of time."

"I was actually making pins for you," he says with falsely-innocent eyes, meeting you halfway across the table, the collar of his worn-out band shirt dipping just slightly until you can see the slightest hint of another tattoo brushing his collar bone, "but if you don't want them . . . "

You hold out a hand, hoping your exasperation might distract him from your wandering eyes. "Show me."

You wish he wouldn't do this—flirt with you so much. Your crush on him was already embarrassing enough without the pins and the inside jokes and his wandering fingers pinching at your sides until you have to laugh. Sometimes you want to scream at him, tell him to stop making fun of you, that you'll get over it if he gives you enough time.

You're not sure if you could ever get over it. Not if he keeps looking at you like this.

Eddie drops the pins into your hand one at a time, tongue caught between his teeth—eyes flashing between your face and your open palm. You do your best to keep your expressions in check.

There's a few band pins—Fleetwood Mac, ABBA, even Wham!, despite all the shit he'd given you about them.

"And for the finale—" he says with a flourish, his fingers just brushing against yours when he drops the little black button into your hand.

"Rainbow in the dark?" You read the words quietly, looking up at him with furrowed brows. He's fidgeting, twisting one of the rings around his finger, biting at his lips.

"Yeah, because, uh . . ." he laughs shyly, glancing down at his hands, "you haven't- you haven't listened to that mixtape I made you?"

Your stomach sinks, and you press your lips together, shooting him a guilty look.

"Oh, come on—" he rolls his eyes at you, and you let the apologies pour out, hoping to wipe the hurt from his expression, even if it's all theatrics.

"I've been meaning to listen, Eddie," you tell him, "but it's your music is really loud and I've got neighbors and I need to get a new pair of headphones for my cassette player . . ."

None of that's true. You've started the tape multiple times, laying back on your bed with your perfectly-functioning headphones on snugly over your ears, and you just. couldn't. do. it. Listening to songs that Eddie picked for you—cute, ridiculous Eddie with his too-tight jeans and wild hair and fucking to-die-for smile—it was like carving your own heart out of your chest with a butter knife. A reminder of what you'd never have.

He stands with his back to you, hands on his hips. When he turns over his shoulder, he won't meet your eyes.

"Well," he says, tapping his knuckles against the glass countertop, "that's from one of my favorites on there. It's always kind of . . . reminded me of you."

"Oh."

You don't know what else to say.

"Anyways," he coughs, but the atmosphere stays heavy with the weight of awkwardness between you, "I guess I'll go unpack some boxes in the back. You good on your own out here?"

"Oh yeah . . . totally."

He sighs, stalking off to the backroom, leaving you with only a sick feeling in your stomach and a pile of pins in your hands.

Part 2 Here

[fuckzachariah]

Alex watched him. Her eyes were keen and careful enough to bring the term studying to mind, and he felt her gaze like a piqued nail raking over skin. There was little anyone else could do to rattle him, but she didn’t have to try at all. One look and his world was off-kilter. The floor beneath his John Lobb boots tilted, the blood in his body side-heavy. Despite his attempt at thawing her ice, she appeared wary of him, and he took this to mean what he wanted it to mean. Not that she was turned off, but rather that the proximity frightened her. Look how it’d ended up last time. Regrettably, he’d unplugged one too many stoppers from his heart that night, divulged too openly and definitely too soon. How he had changed from four, almost five years ago, when he’d found attempting to speak from the heart more gruesome than pulling teeth. If that was what was deterring her, fine. He could put a cork in those feelings, let them foam and swell only internally like a shaken champagne bottle. What he wouldn’t do was stop running his fingers over the chords that ran between them; the strings that sung when they were pulled too tight, or hung too loose. Their song still rang true as ever. 

She nipped at him, irritable, then promptly followed it up with a goading remark. The switch was dizzying. Her gaze rolled over him, and he found his chest expanding in response. A tiny smile flirted with the corners of his mouth, a trill running through him. He tried to keep up. His voice dipping, he tossed back in playful argument and with infuriating self-assurance; “I don’t know that I’d say ‘worst’.” His tongue darted between his lips, unconsciously moistening where he ran dry. Though he resisted the memory from the elevator, its ghost haunted his body, sending a ripple of gooseflesh up the skin concealed by his clothing. “But it’s good to know that your running away wasn’t all in my head.” Subtly, his lips stretched into a toothless smile, meeting her eyes squarely as though in challenge. Challenge to deny, to argue; what he didn’t really care. All she knew is she was likely to rise to it, as was her wont. Still, she fiddled. He was incapable of grounding her even with tried and true tactics. He fixated on her restless hands as she spoke, how she spun and flicked at her engagement ring until the item’s significance was lost on him. The fingers on his right hand flexed subtly as he kneaded at the knuckles with his left, restraining himself from restraining her. It was an irritant, how insatiable his need to touch her constantly seemed to be.

But, before he could reach out to quell her anxious tic, she melted before his eyes. His divulgence, nodule of proffered truth, seemed to have worked to latch and keep her. A small triumph, but it buzzed in him all the same. She requested more of him, but that specific question landed wonky on his skin. That’s just the trouble, Alex. I’m beginning to think it might be you. Of course, he couldn’t tell her this. He only shook his head, laughing through his nose. “Breathing exercises and counting down from 100,”  he regurgitated with sarcasm, pulling from the anger management techniques immediately ready in his mind. His eyes flashed, false smile winking. “Obviously.”  He watched her tightly wound core slacken, even enough to laugh, and her eyes changed when she played with him. It was, beyond other things, a relief; they were due to all take their assigned seats for dinner soon, and if he hadn’t pried her open by then, the tension would’ve been insufferable through all five courses.

Zach laughed, but as she reached out to push his shoulder, he found his body working on autopilot. His opposite arm came across his chest like a sash to catch her wrist before she could retract. With it, he pulled them subtly closer. To an onlooker, it would’ve been curious, but not altogether damning. The electricity bouncing between them was trapped and firing on all cylinders, and his fingers spanned wide across the back of her hand, down her wrist. “I could always just use you as bait. Throw you to the wolves while I make my escape.” He looked down at her, eyes flitting across her face with a barely perceptible smirk. Her perfume made his heart beat that little bit harder. After a moment, he dropped her hand. “Or find a more effective hiding spot, because soon everyone will be out of their minds and I'll need one. I assume you scouted this place yourself – you should know it inside and out by now. If you don’t indulge yourself into a comatose state during dinner, maybe you can give me a tour.”

For a moment, Alex wandered somewhere far away, her attention floaty and indiscernible in the low light. Her eyes, glassy, rolled over him in a manner that straightened his spine. Hm? she answered, dreamy, and his affected confidence gave way to a genuine, muted laugh, her daze charming to him. He wondered what had her so distracted, then swallowed the bloom of hope tickling his ribs that it might be him. He hadn’t forgotten how expertly she’d avoided him lately – something else was on her mind, keeping her here, instead of turning heed and running. Zach’s eyes widened, indulging her question with a drop of sarcasm. “I’m cursed with this paralyzing, supernatural ability to find you anywhere,” he muttered, vaguely amused and strangely truthful. “But you made it easy this time. The air literally tast – smells, just like you.”

He swallowed a hiccup of a laugh, vague alarm rising at his verbal misstep. He, of course, meant what he’d almost said. The taste of her furred on his tongue, coagulated in the back of his throat like a never-healing wound, but he hadn’t meant to say it exactly that way. Zach realized he’d expected her to prise herself from the conversation more immediately only when she stayed. She seemed to latch onto his mild attempt at goading. The corner of his lip flickered, mirroring hers. “Mm. But the chaos was what made it all bearable.” He took a step closer, vaguely aware in the back of his mind how they might look. Partitioned off from the crowd in a quiet, private corner, muttering mutedly. To most, the topic of their conversation would be a mystery – what would Zach Winthrop have to say to his boss’ fiancé?

But Alex was right, and Zach had been honest – his former behavior had been what had made these events tolerable to him, even if he’d had the opposite effect on other guests. The drinking, the coke, the drawing attention and acting out – it all made the irritating side of the business a little less grating. A little quieter, significantly less foreboding. It was nice that they could laugh about it now. Zach chewed on the inside of his cheek, poorly fending off a grin. “Yes, ma’am,” he submitted jovially, closing his eyes and bowing his head in a show of obedience. “I’ll be good if it means you’ll actually have a conversation with me.” He had held his tongue for the most part, but his nature ultimately betrayed him – he had to at least allude to her obvious avoidance lately.

Alex, for a split second, floated away again, seemingly grounding herself by spinning the engagement ring on her finger. A flash of remembering; blood red light, her hazy silhouette, how she felt both threateningly alive and surreally dreamlike under his daring palm, Alex’s voice humming what are we doing? This feels dangerous. Zach tried not to let his face slip up, and rooted himself in the present. Her fidgeting confirmed that his suspicions had been correct – something was bothering her. Instead of striking out with a direct hit, he undercut, offering something of himself first. “That’s why I wandered off,” he admitted, lowering his voice a little so as to keep the truth private. “I can only entertain all the networking bullshit for short bursts before I start involuntarily fantasizing about destroying a working relationship or guzzling a fifth of vodka.” He flashed an over-compensating smile, to demonstrate his keen restraint. His gaze rolled over her, his stomach stirring; the free fall of her neck into her shoulder, the curve of her chest from the sweetheart neckline of her dress, the softly fluttering nip of her waist. His tongue jabbed his inner cheek, and he bit down on it. “This, I admit, is marginally more sufferable.”

[coffee-with-bucky]

Tenderhearted Traditions

Summary: You and Shangchi spend quality time together while he teaches you how to make dumplings (水饺 =  shuí jiǎo) 

Pairing: Shang-chi x reader

Words: 1.2K

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: Minor spoilers for Shang-chi and the Legend of the Ten Rings

A/N: This idea was suggested by the lovely @sweetheart-syndrome​ and this is greatly inspired by my own experience with making dumplings with my mom. I want to note that just because my family and I are Chinese and Shangchi and his family are Chinese does not mean that we do the same traditions, obviously. However, I like to believe that some traditions, especially with making food do crossover with some families. That being said, I guess in a meta way, I’m showing a splice of my own life through Shangchi’s perspective. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Slipping your shoes off and closing the front door, your ears pick up the soft shuffling in your boyfriend’s small apartment kitchen.

“Babe?” You call out.

“In here!”

Entering the cramped kitchen, your lips immediately upturn into a smile.

Brows furrowed and tongue slightly caught in between teeth, Shangchi focuses on the dumpling in his flour-covered hands. Your gaze trails to his hands as you watch him gently fold and pitch the edge of the dough wrapper, creating pleats until the entire dumpling is sealed. Placing the dumpling on a plate sprinkled with flour that prevents the dough from sticking, he wipes his forehead with his forearm.

“Hey,” He grins, “I thought you weren’t off work for another hour.”

“Slow today. They let me off early,” You smirk and step closer to the counter, planting a kiss on the apple of his cheek, “Whatcha doin’?”  

“I was going to surprise you with some dumplings, shuí jiǎo, for dinner.” Shangchi chuckles, kissing your temple.

You eyed his prep layout, noticing the bowl with filling, a small bowl of water, and a plastic package with a stack of dough wrapper premeasured and shaped. Reaching for a wrapper, he spoons a ball of filling and nestles it into the center of the wrapper.

“Obviously, the dough can be made from scratch,” Sticking his finger into the bowl of water, he uses the water as an adhesive to stick the edges together, “But… It’s a lot of work to make the dough in my opinion. So, I bought premade wrappers to cut some corners. Don’t tell Katy’s mom and grandma because they’ll have my head.” He laughs.

With methodical hands and fingers, he simultaneously creates the pleats while closing the edges of the wrapper.

“Can I try making some?” You ask.

Shangchi’s eyes light up. “Sure thing! I’ll teach you.”

After washing your hands, Shangchi goes through the instructions with you, demonstrating each step until you get the hang of it. You put all your focus into the pleats of the dough and furrow your brows during the process. Shangchi glimpses over and watches you make dumplings, a smile breaking out onto his face and an overwhelming swell of pride surging through him as he notes your concentration.

You continue to create a handful of dumplings, placing them beside the ones Shangchi made.

“Mine are sort of scuffed.” You winced with a chuckle.

He shakes his head with a soft laugh, kissing the crown of your head. “I’ll tell you what my mom told me. It doesn’t matter what the shuí jiǎo look like. What’s more important is the time spent with each other while making them. And most importantly, eating them.”

As you and your boyfriend continue to make more dumplings, you tell him about your day and how your work was doing. Shangchi tells you his grocery shopping errands in Chinatown, recounting the market he went to pick up the ingredients for the dumplings.

Finishing the last few dumplings, you and Shangchi wash your hands at the kitchen sink together as he began to reminisce and explain why making dumplings held a special place in his heart.

“My mom taught us how to make shuí jiǎo when we were little just like how our grandmother taught her. We would sit in the kitchen and our parents would tell my sister and I stories from their childhood while we made them.” You gazed at Shangchi, the subtle yet sweet smile that laced upon his face never faltering. “Making the food she taught me reminds me to never forget how much she loved us and to keep upholding her legacy through this pastime. If I forget this tradition, I might forget the memories I have of her.”

You place a sudsy hand over his, stopping him from scrubbing his hands. “She sounds like a very lovely and kind woman. I can see how much love she gave to your family, and I know she would be proud of who you became to be.”

Shangchi grins, slipping his soapy fingers to interlace with yours. “She would have loved you if she had met you. Maybe ask you very bluntly if we’re getting married and if we’re giving her grandkids, but she would have adored you with open arms.”

You let out a gentle laugh, “And I would have loved her with open arms too.”

Shangchi tells you to boil the dumplings for about five minutes in hot water and as you watch the pot, he meanwhile heats up a container of soup given by Katy’s grandmother in the microwave.

As you stand by the stove and stir the pot, arms gently snake around your waist and a chin rests upon your shoulder. You smile and giggle softly as he plants kisses in the crook of your neck, trailing up until his lips peck against your jaw and cheek.

“You’re going to let the wrappers break if you overcook them, you know.” He smiles against your cheek.

“Well, while I’m not complaining, I’m a bit distracted at the moment. So, if they break, it’s on you.” You smirk.  

Turning your head, your nose gently brushes against his as he presses his lips to yours. The kiss is soft and tender, a kiss that makes warmth bloom across your cheeks and blossom in your chest where your heart lies. You can never get tired of kissing this man, especially when he deepens the kiss with a faint sigh, pressing his lips firmer yet delicately against yours. You feel his smile against your mouth, making you pull away for a moment as a laugh escapes your lips.

Suddenly a hiss comes from the pot, making you two abruptly pull away with wide eyes. The boiling water began to spill over the edge of the pot, sizzling when meeting the raw heat of the stove element.

Swiftly turning off the stove, you quickly move the pot onto another stove element, letting it simmer down. With hands on your hips, you turn around, glaring at Shangchi who has a sheepish smile on his face.

“So… I might have distracted you for a bit too long…” He cringes, coyly rubbing the back of his neck.  

You don’t hold the glare too long as you burst out laughing with a shake of your head.

After serving the dumplings and soup into bowls, you take your first bite and your tastebuds are immediately met with flavoursome notes. The warmth of the dumplings and soup gave you an instant feeling of comfort, a blanket of coziness.

“This is so delicious and comforting.” You sigh, hopping onto the edge of the kitchen counter.

There is a twinkle in his brown eyes you can’t quite discern, but his soft gaze on you makes your heart flutter. “Well, I’m glad you like it.” Shangchi grins, sipping down the last remnants of his soup.

As you finish your last bite and the rest of the soup, Shangchi strolls over to you, standing in between your legs and wrapping his arms around your middle.

You sling your arms around his shoulders before kissing the corner of his mouth and chin.

“Thank you for teaching me how to make shuí jiǎo and sharing your experience with me.” You admire, playing with the ends of his hair at the nape of his neck. “I love you.”

“And thank you for letting me teach you and for letting me make them with you, babe.” He smiles, pecking your nose and pulling you into a hug. “Love you too.” He muffles into your shoulder.

The dumplings and soup warmed you from the inside out, and Shangchi warmed you from the outside in.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

double dare, m | ksj, knj

pairing(s): seokjin x reader x namjoon — also yoongi x reader, implied ot7 x reader

summary: Kim Seokjin calls to issue a challenge. A (double) dare, if you will. He says you can't take two dicks at once. Kim Namjoon, his roommate, argues that you can. Well, you never back down from a dare, especially when it involves Seokjin and Namjoon.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, low-key horny crack + chaotic energy; smut (fem reader, doggy, threesome, slight D/s dynamics, mild restraint, nipple play, finger sucking, fingering, double penetration); non-idol!AU - ot7 x sex friend!reader, focusing on Seokjin and Namjoon in this one :D (cough with some Yoongi)

'journey (to the dick)' au aka you as the main character in harem hentai and BTS is your (horny af) harem

--

“Yah!”

Smack!

“What? Ah, f-fuck!”

“I need you to get over here. There is a particular matter that needs to be discussed,” came the very serious, no-nonsense tone from your phone, speaking rather sternly for someone who called you three times in a row and forced you to answer in the middle of your, ahem, dick appointment.

You were holding the phone in one hand and your other was on the bed, fingers clutching the sheets, jerked forward periodically with firm, hard thrusts.

Someone was shouting behind the one on the phone.

“I told hyung that you could take dick in both holes and he doesn’t believe me!”

You immediately recognized that deep, sultry voice in the background. Still, you needed to address the accusation first.

“Kim Seokjin,” you panted. “What the fuck?”

You could hear his exaggerated eye roll. Well, you couldn’t, but you could, you know?

“Namjoon thinks you can take dick in the pussy and the ass at the same time,” Seokjin spat as if that was utter bullshit. “And that’s just not possible.”

Smack! “Why–” Smack! “Would–” Smack! “You–” Smack! “Think–” Smack! “I couldn’t – mmm, fuck, yes right theeere, fuck, so deep and so hard, ugh, you’re so good…”

Seokjin continued like you weren’t in the middle of getting fucked right that very second.

“Because, okay, you could take some small dick, sure, but us? Us? Come on, you totally couldn’t.”

“That was absolutely absurd of you to say so, Kim Seokjin,” you snapped, your words curling into a lustful moan as a firm hand pushed the small of your back down, forcing you to your elbow, leisurely spanking your ass hard with his open palm, keeping you on the edge, so close to hitting your peak but not quite there, thrusting steady but rough.

The headboard was hammering the wall at the same deliberate pace.

The neighbor who lived on the other side of the wall was cursing again.

“Are you both going to be home?” you gasped out, all of your muscles tensing. Almost…

Seokjin snorted. “Pfft, obviously, we are human beings who sleep, you know–”

“We’ll see about that.”

You hung up on him.

“I gotta go.”

Surprisingly, the deep, husky voice behind you actually responded.

“After this one.”

“You asshole, you are holding out – a-ah, wait, oooooooh, fuck!”

-

"I took a shower, Yoongi helped me clean all my bits, I dried my hair, went back home to put on a fresh dress and you're fucking ASLEEP, KIM SEOKJIN, WHAT THE FUCK?!"

“Zzzzzzz – guh!”

Total chaos as you threw yourself onto Kim Seokjin’s lap, disturbing the perfect image of self-proclaimed Worldwide Handsome laying on the couch covered with a fluffy white blanket and squishy alpaca plush with a red neck scarf tucked in his inner arm, grabbing said plush and smacking him with it repeatedly as Seokjin lost his shit, flailing about and throwing his arms over his head, wailing at you to stop. His roommate, Kim Namjoon, was unabashedly cackling like a lunatic behind you.

“CEASE AND DESIST!”

“You–” FWOOP! “Bossy–” FLOOP! “Pillow–” BOOP! “Princess!”

“Namjoon, h-help!”

“Hell no,” Namjoon snorted in laughter. “I’m having a great time watching.”

“Yah!”

“First you doubt me, then you fall asleep on me, what’s next, you–”

Seokjin grabbed both your wrists, thinking he had won, already cheering for himself, only for you to plant your tits right onto his handsome face, his nose jammed right into your cleavage because of the sweetheart neckline of your red lace dress, hot breath warming your chest, brown eyes wide, grip on your wrists lessening in his shock. You yanked your hands out and clutched his head, sinking your fingers into his black hair, violently muffling his half-squeal, half-moan with your breasts, blaringly obvious that you weren’t wearing a bra because your prominent nipples were already hard and creating stiff peaks under the fabric, poking him incessantly in the cheeks.

You gasped as another pair of strong hands grabbed your forearms and made you release Seokjin’s head, forcing them up and your back to arch. A deep voice dipped down to caress your ear, not paying attention to Seokjin who did not detach himself from your tits.

He was making the most of it while you were distracted.

“Woah there, what do you think you’re doing?” Namjoon drawled, grip tightening, bending your arms back, elbows up, pressing your wrists to your upper back. “That’s not a punishment.”

You tried to breathe but Namjoon’s heavenly deep voice was taking your breath away.

“You know what punishments are.”

He pressed your head back, leaving your arms the way they were, and Namjoon’s sultry eyes appeared, half-lidded brown orbs completely visible because he had cut his hair very short now, dark gray-brown and spiked up, cocking an eyebrow at you. You whimpered at his gaze, suddenly feeling hotness on the curve of your breast, lips pressed to one of your nipples, and then wetness closing in, sucking you through lace and satin, the short flared skirt rising because of your spread thighs, but there was too much fabric between you and Seokjin’s hardness, the blanket and pajama pants and boxer briefs, so frustrating, about to lower your head to rectify that, but Namjoon’s palm pressed into your chin, fingers closing in around your cheeks, immobile.

“Where do you think you’re looking?”

Every time Namjoon smirked, one of his dimples peeked out at you. Ugh, so sexy.

“I… I’m s-supposed to be punishing Seokjinnie…” you gasped out, feeling said man’s teeth nicking at your nipple through your dress, his large hands closing in on your waist, pulling you closer, causing you to bend back more, unable to escape Namjoon’s grip and gaze.

Namjoon tilted his head, amused. “Yeah? Were you so, so mad that hyung wasn’t awake so you could show off how well you can take it in both holes?”

You didn’t want to whine and be pathetic, but Seokjin’s mouth and hands were all over your breasts and waist, pinching you through your clothes and sucking on the hard nubs, rushes of pleasure clouding your head and making you forget your defiance, remembering all the things Namjoon liked, like when you were so drunk on sex that you just gave into him, now whimpering and opening your mouth, your tongue sliding out, feeling him shift his palm, Namjoon’s finger leisurely tracing your lips. Your tongue followed, licking the pads of his fingers, rolling your body into Seokjin’s mouth, wanting to grab his shoulders but not letting yourself do so because Namjoon hadn’t allowed you to do so yet.

He liked you bad, but he also liked you obedient.

“W… Want it…”

You felt Namjoon’s other hand tangle in your hair, fingers molding to your scalp, sliding two of his long fingers into your mouth and making you suck on them, your eyelids fluttering as he fucked your mouth with his fingers, rubbing your tongue, pushing your arms down, your name growled by that deep, deep voice.

“Look at me.”

You fixated your eyes on Namjoon’s stern expression, shuddering as you felt Seokjin push the sleeves of your dress down, scooping out your breasts, moaning as his lips touched your skin, hot tongue teasing your hard nipples and you couldn’t tell him to do more or less, trapped by Namjoon’s fingers in your mouth and his hand in your hair, tugging at it lightly so you sucked his fingers like a cock, vision hazing out at the helplessness of it all.

Voluntary helplessness, to be clear.

“You want it? You had Yoongi-hyung fucking you earlier and now you want more? So dirty and so insatiable,” Namjoon taunted, not meaning it of course, because how could he mean it when he too wanted it all, knew you were insatiable and loved it as much as the rest of them, addicted to the feeling you gave him, pushing your head down, fingers still in your mouth. Seokjin raised his head, black hair, large brown eyes, pink lips lush and full and gorgeous, meeting the image of fingers sliding in and out of your glossy lips, your eyes glassy and reflected in his.

Namjoon pushed his fingers apart, opening your mouth.

Your tongue lolled out, swiping around his knuckle, staring into Seokjin’s eyes.

“F… Fuck…”

The oldest was dirty-minded but resistant in showing it, clenching his jaw, weakening as your fingers danced up his arms and you moaned his name messily between Namjoon’s long wet digits, tits pushed up by the neckline of your dress straining under them, knowing your sensuality was irresistible and infectious, placing your hands on his broad shoulders, pulling him closer.

“I still… don’t think you can take us both at once…” he breathed, staring into your eyes.

You smirked, Namjoon’s fingers sliding out, saliva smearing onto your chin, the taste of his skin on your tongue.

“Only one way to find out.”

And you leaned in and kissed those perfect lips, soft and passionate kiss, wrapping your arms around him, fingers splaying over his back and in his hair, his name trapped in the kiss, sudden hardness pressing to your back, breaking the first kiss and turning your head to be trapped in another, full lips commanding the lip-lock, two different hands on your breasts, Seokjin and Namjoon toying with them, the rush of pleasure only just beginning.

-

“Whose face am I looking at?”

“Obviously mine,” Seokjin scoffed. “Do you even have to ask?”

You gasped. “But Namjoon is so handsome.”

Seokjin rolled his eyes. “Yeah, but you want him to make you look at him, so that completely defeats the purpose of being forced when the default is you facing him.”

“Also, hyung thinks he’s the most handsome,” Namjoon chuckled, tugging your dress off, kisses across your chest as it left your body, hands travelling to push your panties down.

“No,” Seokjin choked, affronted as you moaned and gripped Namjoon’s shoulders, enjoying his powerful grip. “I am not that self-centered. I just happen to like how I look very much. Namjoon is very handsome, capable, and intelligent.”

“Thanks, hyung.”

Namjoon shoved a finger inside your wetness, making you stumble into the sofa, raising your leg to place it against Seokjin’s naked thigh, almost falling if it wasn’t for your ass being suddenly grabbed by Seokjin’s firm hands.

“You are still clumsy, Namjoon,” Seokjin sighed, lowering you slightly to look over your shoulder.

You reached back and held onto the sofa, Namjoon’s mouth on your nipple and his finger in your soaked pussy, thrusting deeply to match his swiping tongue, maddeningly slow but rough, so dangerous, losing your mind at the leisurely pace, trying to buck your hips to get more but Seokjin’s hands were preventing you.

You heard the oldest huff and make a disapproving tongue click.

“Not like that. She likes it faster than that.”

Namjoon knew that. Obviously.

Your eyes widened.

He smirked around your nipple as one of Seokjin’s hands left your ass.

“Seok– oh, fuuuck!”

You gasped as you felt another finger enter your dripping pussy, another finger of a different hand, stretching your walls and a different pace, faster, your eyes rolling back, head hitting Seokjin’s shoulder, but either he didn’t notice or didn’t care, your moans in his ear, Namjoon matching the rhythm, oh, shit, they were fingering you together, Seokjin from between your legs from behind and Namjoon from the front, the backs of their hands slick with your juices, Seokjin’s other hand still squeezing one ass cheek and Namjoon’s other hand on your waist, his mouth on your breasts.

“Come on, I know you’re close,” Seokjin muttered, exhaling hard. “I can feel your pussy sucking me in, asking for dick already.”

He was not normally one for dirty talk, but sometimes Seokjin let himself got lost in the lust, lost in the moment of your throbbing walls and shaking body, moans of their names tumbling from your lips, filling up their living room with obscenity and depravity, thrusting in unison, loud and wet and heavy breathing blending with your sound, pushed to the edge, thighs tensing, electricity flashing throughout your nerves.

“Namjoon, Seokjin, fuck!”

Wet squelch, sweet gush of your juices soaking their hands, your eyes rolling back, yelping as Namjoon’s hand retreated and Seokjin stuffed another finger in you. You didn’t need to say it, one glance at Namjoon and he could see it, harder, hyung, she can take it, gasping as Seokjin obeyed and Namjoon's wet fingers pressed onto your throbbing clit, wild howl at the contact, sparks of sensitivity because it was right after your orgasm, heat at your neck from Seokjin’s cheeks, his teeth finding your shoulder, biting it, maybe from his realization of how crazy this moment was or in the heated moment of wanting to feed you even more pleasure, but the sharp unexpected pain only hiked your moans, Namjoon rubbing your clit as Seokjin shoved his fingers into you hard and fast, the angle a little awkward but there was so much going on that it didn’t matter, already there once again, obsessed with the overabundance of ecstasy, I’m cumming, fuck, Namjoon, Seokjin, a-ah, clit engorged and pulsing strongly to Namjoon’s punishing touch, words jumbled and woven with breathless cries, orgasm crashing down and soaking Seokjin’s hand once more, thick and sweet and honey-like, viscous juices clinging to your inner thighs, painted with your high.

Namjoon leaned in, silencing your shuddering gasps with his mouth, deep kisses and swirling tongue dazing you, aftershocks flinching through your torso as he pressed his fingertips to your jerking core, lowering you from the crashing waves, whispering darkly against your lips.

“We haven’t even started.”

Releasing you, and you were already turning around, meeting Seokjin’s gaze and his panting smile, kissing it, sighing contentedly in his touch, just something about those lips and his large frame surrounding you, something about the way he shivered when you sucked his breath away and drank it, almost innocent, but not that innocent, because the second your wandering hand found the condom on the sofa and pressed it into his palm, his lips curved into a teasing grin, nipping at yours.

“Already?” he teased.

You reached between you and him, fingers ghosting his length, smirking at Seokjin’s gasp, gazing at him under your lashes.

“You get hard from kisses, Seokjinnie.”

“I – gah, d-don’t…”

But he didn’t mean it, of course not, because he was humping your hand that was closing around his hot, hardening cock, stroking him slowly from base to tip, spreading the pre-cum over the sensitive head, his jaw clenching at the feeling, desire and need clouding his eyes, pupils blown-out, ripping open the foil packet, heavier exhales, staring into your eyes.

“You want to look at me that bad, huh?” he breathed against your lips, fishing for it.

You gave it to him, exactly what he wanted.

“Mhm, Seokjin, I want to look at your handsome, perfect face while you fuck my pussy and Namjoon fucks my ass.”

He sucked in a breath, caught in his throat.

“You’re crazy, but so, so hot.”

Eh, you’ll take it.

You moved your hand and he rolled the condom down, yelping as you captured his lips again, addicted to his kiss and his soft cries, his hand and your hand guiding his stiff cock to your quivering pussy, already saturated with slickness, spread knees and lowering body, sinking down onto him, moaning into his mouth and he moaned into your throat, suffocating each other with your noises, rolling your hips and breaking the kiss, both of your faces pointed to heaven with the true heaven between your connected hips, pleasure at being filled and doing the filling, his hands on your ass to push you down.

“Hyung, spread her ass,” Namjoon ordered behind you.

You pitched forward slightly, wrapping your arms around Seokjin’s shoulders, gasping as you felt him tug outwards, sinking his fingers into your softness, your lips pressed to his cheek, his sweet voice murmuring your name, filling you with warmth despite being exposed so vulnerably.

You inhaled deeply, breathing in Seokjin’s clean scent.

Then you flexed your asshole, tightening and relaxing the ring of muscle.

“Fuck, that’s so sexy.”

You gazed at him in your periphery, eyes widening as you realized Namjoon too was naked now, muscular body towering behind you, flicking open a bottle of lube and spreading it over his fingers, rubbing them together as they became shiny and slippery, catching your interested expression.

He smirked, dimple on display. “Ready?”

“I’ve been ready since I walked in the door, Namjoon,” you smirked back, enamored with his seductive dark brown eyes.

He chuckled.

“Nah, you were ready the second Seokjin challenged you and said you couldn’t do it.”

Oops, he got ya.

You gasped hotly, feeling his fingers press up against your tight hole, tracing circles and teasing you, pushing into your ass in the opposing rhythm of Seokjin’s rocking hips, your hold on Seokjin’s shoulders tightening, hearing him gasp with you, watching two Namjoon’s fingers dip in and snake into the tightness, both of them inhaling sharply at the sound, wet squelch and your wanton cry, your hips rocking into it, pleasure shimmering all over.

“T-That’s still not a dick,” Seokjin managed to get out, still stubborn but mixed with awe regardless.

“Gotta stretch her out,” Namjoon chuckled. “Don’t wanna hurt our good girl, right?”

Well, if you weren’t in euphoria before, you definitely were there now.

“N… Namjoon-ah…”

“Shh, I got you, just enjoy.”

You arched your back a little more, Seokjin sliding down to accommodate, slowly thrusting and gasping at the sensation, turning to him and intense kisses, needing to occupy your mouth, fullness in your ass and your pussy, whimpering as your felt Namjoon’s fingers flex, nudging your muscles to relax, core throbbing, clenching around Seokjin’s stiff length instead, so good, oh, yes, it was so good, his kisses and slapping your hips down, wanting more, already chasing more, intoxicated by the feeling of both your holes being filled.

You heard the bottle of lube fall to the floor and the slick sound of hand on hardness.

Shivers up and down your spine.

“Say it.”

You broke Seokjin’s kiss, gasping.

“Tell us that you want it,” Namjoon growled.

Drunk on the idea, commanded by lust.

“P-Please, Namjoon…” you breathed, eyes hazy and half-lidded, staring at Seokjin. “Want you to fuck my ass as Seokjin fucks my pussy. Want you two to ruin me.”

The brown eyes beneath you widened, mouthing, you’re crazy.

You grinned, Namjoon’s fingers buried in your ass.

“Told you, hyung.”

His fingers pulled out, pushing the small of your back down with his palm. One a second to mourn the loss and then your eyes widened, the thick head of Namjoon’s cock pressed against your ass.

Wait, maybe you should have asked if Namjoon could be in your puss–

Too late.

“Oh, f-fuck!”

You clutched Seokjin’s shoulders, digging your nails into him as slowly, carefully, Namjoon’s girth entered your tight, tight hole, still tight even through he worked you up and stretched you out, the lube helping him slip inside, your mind going blank, realizing that maybe you went over your head a little, but too far to turn back and, to be honest, you didn’t want to turn back, the fullness already too good to regret it, gasping as Namjoon gripped your hips, holding you completely still as he bottomed out, hot breath on your shoulder blades.

Well.

Your mind wasn’t so blank that you forgot to speak.

“Still…” you panted, slowly grinning at Seokjin’s shocked and stunned face, his jaw dropped as he felt and witnessed it. “Think it’s impossible for me to take dick in both holes?”

“Y-Y-You…” he sputtered, choking a little as Namjoon began to move, his scrambled words mixing with your lustful moans. “Are absurd.”

It was almost too much, but Namjoon did not let you command the pace, instead firmly keeping you in one spot as he nudged Seokjin to move, guiding you both expertly, groaning when you pulsated around the two dicks, able to feel the reverberations from the closeness, body to body to body, trembling from the overwhelming sensation, Seokjin thrusting up from below, his handsome face tense, panting with effort.

“Oh, fuck… it’s so tight… fuck, I can feel it, I can feel his dick fucking your ass, that’s so weird…”

You weren’t quite sure what he expected to feel. What did Seokjin originally think he was getting into when he called you? He was the one who had been touting their superior size! What did he think it would feel like–?!

“A-Ah, y-yes, there, like that, oh f-fuck, like thaaaaaaat…”

You forgot about questioning Seokjin’s brain, refocusing on the feeling of the consistent thrusting and depth of the two cocks, an almost melodic rhythm and substantial fullness. There was a sweet spot, right, oh, there, Namjoon’s hand flat against your back, his deep grunts of effort paired with each smack of hips to ass and Seokjin’s crotch to yours.

Oh, huh, were those loud, pitched moans resonating off the apartment walls you? But the ecstasy too high, too real, too good, so good that you seemed to forget that it was already very late at night.

Surely their neighbors would complain – was that part of your brand now? oops – but it seemed that neither Seokjin or Namjoon noticed or cared, pants and moans and groans and chasing carnal pleasure, irrational, wild, heads thrown back, lashes fluttering and lost in bliss, stuffing your tight, wet heat from both holes, kissing Seokjin sloppily before turning your head to make out with Namjoon, his teeth trapping your tongue and sucking on it, gargled moan and shaking body at the mercy of his iron grip, snapping back to Seokjin’s pillowy lips, juxtaposition of hard and soft, crashing pleasure and coiled constriction, letting go, orgasm overtaking you in shudders, not realizing you had been so close, their names falling from your throat between fucked-out, loud, blissful cries.

“Seokjin… Namjoon…”

Couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t do anything but peak in that gratifying elation, shivers up and down your spine, the lower half of your body throbbing and trembling, chin lowering only to witness Seokjin shutting his eyes and clenching his jaw, groaning out your name as he shot into the condom, jerking cock twitching inside you, vibrating front to back, no, that was Namjoon’s low hiss of your name, his fingernails digging in your hips he shot into your ass, your eyes snapping open, thick spurts of his orgasm so strong that you could feel his cock twitching deep inside, your pulse roaring in your ears, chest heaving, struggling for breath.

Feeling far too proud that they both came with you.

Namjoon’s sweaty chest hit your back, sandwiching you between that big body and Seokjin’s broad shoulders. Seokjin looked to be two seconds away from passing out from the ecstasy of orgasm.

Nice.

“Don’t… question me… again,” you snickered, panting heavily.

Seokjin mumbled and shrugged, incoherent.

“I think he’s saying you could do this, but not the reverse of him in the ass and me in the pussy,” Namjoon clarified, kissing your shoulders with an amused chuckle.

“What?!” you roared.

“That’s n-not…!”

Welp.

-

“We still have unfinished business.”

“Yoongi, I just got DP’ed last night. Have mercy.”

“Mmm.”

Kisses on your neck, lowering the strap of your bra, wrapping his arms around you, purring your name.

“I guess you can buy me dinner and we can watch a movie instead.”

“I have to buy?!”

--

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