#slamming drums and playing bass

[c28hunter]

Holy Trinity? Holy Trinity!

I was an atheist untill I saw the Holy Trinity in my phone 🛐🛐🛐

[jeanbie]

GHOSTFACE ★ masterlist.

pairing: connie x reader

genre: modern au | warnings: explicit sexual content, masked sex, rough sex, unprotected sex, quickie, squirting | wc: 4.6k

note: im tingling....and toying with a pt2...thoughts?!! plz share ૮ • ﻌ - ა

⏤ You've got no idea who dressed up as Ghostface to Eren's Halloween party, but damn, do they fuck nice.

Bassline. The thundering vibrations of Eren’s drum and bass mix seem to rattle the entire fourth floor of the apartment complex; there are feet stomping on the lino of the kitchen floor, people shouting to the dark stream of dialogue that is sampled into the tracks. The windows look as though they might shatter with the pulsing pressure of the music, and according to Jean who just went outside to the courtyard to have a cigarette, the music is so loud that it feels like it’s coming from outside the building and not within. 

Eren loves drum and bass, which is why it came as little surprise to everybody in attendance of his Halloween party that majority of this playlist has been of the same genre. 

The only real complaint you can find about the music is that some of the tracks are too long and too repetitive, and since about fifteen minutes ago when you found yourself bent over in one of the storage cupboards in the hallway with some stranger’s cock shoved up your cunt, you don’t think the song that was playing when you got there has even finished yet.

The cupboard is submerged in darkness, but even if there had been a light on it wouldn’t have mattered — the stranger’s face is hidden behind the screaming slope of a Scream mask. 

While this stranger has had you bent over one of the stored suitcases in the cupboard, you’ve been trying to figure out who he is, if you might actually know him. There are signs to take note of; his blunt fingernails, the skinny ring on his middle finger, the quiet string of curses from behind the cheap plastic mask. 

You turn your head over your shoulder, trying to search him out in the darkness. You catch what looks like a glimpse of the white of his mask before he takes one hand off your waist and fists it in your hair, pulling your head back closer to the mask whilst speeding up his hips. The clench of your cunt around his cock makes his fist tighten in your hair, and you gasp and fumble to hold the handle of whoever’s suitcase this happens to be.

His hips snatch up, burying his cock back inside of you and eventually letting go your hair to wrap both of his hands back around your waist. He pulls you to meet him as he thrusts in, the ricochet of your ass slapping into his hips sending you lurching forward into the wall — you barely stop yourself from face-planting into it with your palm, and you settle for gripping onto the suitcase beneath you for dear life as the stranger speeds up his slamming.

The fact that the person up your snatch right now is a stranger makes your head whirl — this is exactly the kind of scenario you think your parents might have been warning you of when they sent you off to university two years ago. But none of that matters now, not when the hardness shoved deep inside of you feels as good as this dude’s does.

Ghostface pushes himself deeper, shoving your chest down against the suitcase so the angle is just right. You feel his fingers smoothing up your spine appreciatively as he fucks into you, and the sudden realisation that you’re almost naked while he’s still concealed beneath dark robes and a mask hits you. 

As he guides your hips up his cock and lets you sink back down onto him at your own tired pace, you moan loudly, feeling your thighs tremble against the fabric of the suitcase.

Behind you, the sharp point of his hips begin to hit you in even intervals — if you could see in this darkness, you’d see them moving in a roundish motion, each upward flick of his hips hitting the spot he’s been looking for the entire time.

You squeal, jolting up when he finds it and when he does, the hand on your back smooths across your skin before coming again to settle on your waist. His hands tighten around it while his hips rock back up into you, the wetness between your legs practically drooling from your hole.

Each thrust now is long and slow; you can feel the entire length of his dick pulling out of you save for the tip, and then rushing back inside of you roughly. Without even thinking about it, your walls clench closed around him and he sucks in a hiss, one you’re shocked to have been able to hear amidst the party outside.

Ghostface speeds up. He pushes into you with ease, relishing in the sound of your voice groaning and whimpering underneath him.

A pressure builds in your stomach, and Ghostface just about catches you when you fumble, the feeling of his hands around your middle tightening as he does all the work. He fucks himself with your pussy, knowing from the arrangement of noises you’ve sung to him where you like him best, which angle makes you moan more, where the wetness builds and squelches around him and dribbles down your leg.

“Ah, fuck!” you cry, taking the masked man by genuine surprise as his body shifts with quiet laughter, his fingers pinching the bunch of skin around your waist. He knows that you’re tired, and knows that you want to cum — just like how he knows that you know he wants to cum, too.

You feel full to the brim with him — you don’t know if this is the best sex you’ve ever had or if you just think that because it could be anybody under that mask fucking you.

Again, you try to peer round your shoulder to look for him, and this time you happen to snatch a look now that your eyes have adjusted to the light. Ghostface stares back at you with indifference, but you wonder how he might be looking underneath — face scrunched up with pleasure, a lip between his teeth, eyes blown open or perhaps clenched tight. 

Doesn’t matter. It just feels too fucking good.

You start to say something but your words die out, your mind focusing on the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of you, mapping the way to your cervix, the tip kissing every nice spot you have never found with anybody else. 

Finally, when you think Ghostface might be pulling out to blow a load over your back, the hairs on the back of your neck stand up on edge when you feel him drag his cock out of you, and feel his hands pressing your ass cheeks, as if wanting to widen them apart.

Suddenly, you reach back and grab his wrist. You sense his gaze behind the hollow black spots of the mask and he tilts his head to the side. This guy is leaning in to the concept of Ghostface so heavily that it makes you shudder, but the damp spot between your legs sings a different story.

“Wait,” you manage to say, halting his cock from snuggling itself between your ass and up it. You’re not exactly closed off to anal, but not with someone you don’t even know, even worse inside of Eren’s storage cupboard using someone’s suitcase as a support. 

Ghostface rolls his shoulders, returning his head to a straight and level position before pulling back entirely. Your heart rises to your throat — there’s no way he’ll just leave after you’ve said no. Neither of you are ready to part just yet.

Thankfully, Ghostface doesn’t leave; he curves his arm around your waist and twists you, your little top pushing against his chest for a split second before he lifts you up off the ground. The suitcase now finds itself a seat for you to sit on, while he lifts your legs higher around his body and aligns his cock back near your cunt before plunging himself back in as if he never even left.

Your jaw falls open, and now that your eyes are accustomed to the veil of darkness settled in the cupboard you can make out his mask above you, and both of his hands on your thighs. Being able to see the mysterious man in costume as he watches your pussy swallow his cock with every thrust only increases the pleasure, the rush of the masked assailant taking complete ownership of you, the thrill of the door behind him opening at any second.

He pushes your mini-skirt higher up over your stomach, sliding his right hand down from your thigh to roll his thumb over your clit. Your body jumps at the new feeling, and as the suitcase begins to wobble precariously beneath you, you try to grab onto something nearby and find nothing in reach. Settling to grip one hand on the case beneath you and his naked wrist, you place your faith in the trusty case and hope that it won’t collapse beneath you as Ghostface picks up the pace. 

Every frantic thrust brings you an inch closer to the wall behind your head, but all you can focus on is the outline of his wrist reaching between your thighs and the white curve of the mask staring back at you in silence. You chew out a course of curses, a warm feeling rippling from your cunt all the way to your chest. 

The cupboard feels like a corner of hell, stinking of sex, but all you can care to focus on is the feeling of this man’s dick inside of you, and how you want nothing else but for it to remain there for the rest of the evening.

You’re almost thankful for the lack of visibility in here, and no doubt behind the dark fabric of his masked eyes — you must look a mess, and you do. The man watches you with a half-lidded gaze, watching you unravel at the seams into a mewling mess under his hands. His thumb swirls slower around your clit, his nail slowly flicking over the curve of it as you moan, clenching your hand around his wrist. He shakes himself free from your clutches and moves to feel his cock stretching you open, fingering the wetness pool around him. 

He swipes his finger up the slit of your cunt and then slides his palm over your stomach. You crane your head to stare at him, at the ridges of bone and his protruding veins that simmer across his hand. His fingers are slender, pretty almost, and you watch whilst panting as he stretches his hand across your lower stomach and presses down. At that, his hips flick up higher and you yelp — he’s feeling around for his hand on the surface. 

He fucks up into you, feeling the dull lump of his dick pressing against you, and in turn you feel your legs trembling around him. Ghostface grips you even harder, grunting every time his balls slap up against your bum. The suitcase is wobbling furiously beneath you, but you can’t even feel it teetering on its edge — you’re too busy drowning in the aching pressure building in your body, and trying to fight it and failing miserably.

Ghostface releases your waist in surprise when you very suddenly release; a stream of squirt shoots out of your pussy onto the front of his dark cloak, and as soon as he lets you go, the suitcase beneath you falls and down you disappear against the wall down to the floor.

You land with an unceremonious groan, still squirting and shaking as you descend, and as you cry out in both pleasure and shock, Ghostface laughs and towers over you.

His laugh is loud, the loudest noise he’s made the entire time he’s been in here fucking you. It comes from deep within, boyish and sexy and enough to make you reach forward and press your fingers against your throbbing cunt.

“Shit, mama,” Ghostface croons, still chortling at your fall from grace to the floor of the cupboard. He breathes in with a voiced breath as he watches you fiddle with your clit like a button, staring up at him with a breathless and dazed look.

He tilts his head again — your body physically twitches.

“Oh, you want more?” he asks. You definitely don’t recognise his voice; you barely hear it now the song has changed in the kitchen next door. You’re lucky to have heard Ghostface talk the first time and laugh at the sight of your pussy in the air and legs spread wide.

Ghostface reaches for his cock, which remains hard and rigid under the falling figure of his cloak and he kicks the suitcase to the side. With your calves on either side of his thighs, he positions himself over you as you lie on the floor and starts to stroke his cock from the top to the bottom, picking up speed and watching you stroke the slick space between your legs. Your legs clench closed when you poke one finger into your quivering hole, but Ghostface nudges your legs with his knee and forces them back open.

If the door were to open now, how would you begin to explain the scene? A guy dressed as Ghostface standing over you while you’re undressed on the floor with your legs spread open, pumping his cock as he does nothing to help you up off the ground, enjoying every second of watching you try to finger your pussy and fight the sensitive jolts your body performs. Where would you even start with trying to explain that?

Ghostface shifts his weight above you, his hand moving so fast above you that you can barely see it moving, the black fabric of his cloak blocking the sight from view on occasion. He flicks his wrist as if this is an ordinary session of jerking off, as if you’re not on the floor beneath him ready to catch the blow.

He grunts, and you feel his feet gently brush your ass on the floor when he leans forward unexpectedly and lays one hand flat on the wall your head is against. Then you register a warmth shooting down onto your pussy, moving up to your chest as it falls and rises. He’s cumming. On you. All over you.

You don’t know where the need comes from, but you angle yourself up and position your face under his burst, catching the last few ropes of his cum with your tongue, moaning open-mouthed at the salty taste of it. You can feel the rest of it sliding down your body, trickling down your wet slit and past your bum to the floor. 

Ghostface curses and laughs again, looking down at you.

“Slut,” he calls affectionately, chuckling as he does so. A wild heat blooms on your face. 

Ghostface leans forward and fingers his hand through your hair, using the other one still wrapped around his cock to shake it, as if ridding the last drops of his seed onto your face before letting it fall back behind the curtain of black robes.

The unknown Ghostface grips your face with his hand, staring at the way your eyes burn up into his widely and tiredly. His head tilts again in the way he likes, and then he pats your cheek and waves his hand at you. It takes a second before you understand that he’s waving for you to stand up.

With a struggle, you find your feet and rise to stand in front of him. He assesses the display of sticky cum over your body and face and laughs again, as if finding the whole thing unbelievable and endearing, and then he uses the inside of his cloak to wipe whatever he can see in the dark off your skin. There’s still a party to enjoy — he’s not cruel enough to send you back into the fray with his seed splattered down your front.

A few moments later, the door to the storage cupboard opens from the inside and you ungracefully step out, your body still feeling light and like jelly. Ghostface is just a step behind you, but before you can step into the equally dim light of the flat hallway, he reaches out and fiddles with your skirt. You feel the cheap fabric of it drag in a rearrangement.

He’s pulled your skirt from up above your arse and returned you to normal. 

Ghostface gently pushes you forward and turns to close the door behind him. You still in place, turning to him and hoping he might share who he is, maybe suggest finding a room to have some more fun in. But all he does is look at you before disappearing back inside of the heart of the party taking place in the kitchen.

Leaving you standing there.

A door to someone’s bedroom opens and out someone steps, dressed in a very cute cosplay of Yuna from Final Fantasy. They smile when they see you and use their thumb to gesture behind them: “Bathrooms in there if you’re looking for it.”

You thank her and slowly wander inside, b-lining for the small ensuite and closing the door behind you. You barely think of looking at your reflection in the mirror until you’ve peed and wiped the sticky residue away, but when you do, you blow out a deep sigh and quickly wipe the smudge of eyeliner under your eye. 

You’ve looked worse. There’s always that.

You’re just about to step into the hallway when a Ghostface breezes past you. Immediately, your body freezes, watching the masked figure look back towards the front door with a howling laugh, and when you turn to the door you watch two more Ghostface’s tumble in after him. Your heart lurches in your chest — this just got more complicated.

One of them looks at you and holds up their prop weapon as they pass, using it as if beckoning you to the kitchen where your friends are probably waiting for you. Hoping they’ll avoid all interrogations of where you’ve been for the last twenty minutes, you prepare to poke your head inside and jump back when Ymir steps out.

She looks haggard, her eyes hazed and red and she jerks backwards in surprise when you manifest into her view. 

“Jesus fuck, you scared the shit out of me,” she grumbles, looking you up and down after catching her breath.

A guy dressed in an uninspired pirate outfit passes and says, “Cute outfit.”

“Thanks,” you mutter in reply, then turn to Ymir again. “There’s no more loo roll in that bathroom, if that’s where you’re going.”

“Nah, going outside,” she tells you, “it’s like a sauna in there. Wanna come with?”

You hope that by joining Ymir outside you might iron out your neediness, but the feeling only increases. About five minutes into standing by one of the birch trees in the courtyard, flanked by Ymir and her two friends, you watch as a congregation of people flood out of the building you were just in. Ymir pays them no mind — they’re all at the same party, after all, but your eyes zero in on the familiar flash of black robes and fall on the sickening sight of another Ghostface mask looking right back at you.

You don’t even know if this is the same Ghostface sinking his dick into your cunt just mere minutes ago. 

“Why’s there so many Ghostface’s tonight?” you ask, feigning nonchalance.

Ymir shrugs and twists the butt of her cigarette against the tin bin on the wall. “Must be popular again this year.”

“The new Scream movie came out a few weeks ago,” one of her friends answers helpfully. “I’ve seen about six tonight. Don’t even know who any of them are, either.”

When Ymir gently pulls you back towards the party by your shoulders, you brave another look back at the group with the infamous Ghostface and tame the disappointment blooming in your chest when the masked stranger is no longer searching for you in the throng of people. 

You fall back invisibly in the crowd of people once inside, searching for the man who had claimed you as his own earlier in the night. But he might as well be a ghost in the wild gathering of strangers surrounding you as you try and find fun in dancing with Ymir — everywhere you look, you catch a glimpse of another warping mouth gaping at you, but never any signs of who just had you mewling in the cupboard. His identity and the possibility of it being revealed slip away as the night goes on, but the lingering memory and phantom feeling of his dick up your crotch never leaves.

You’ve never actually met Eren, despite being at his Halloween party at the start of the week. The weekend drawls by at an agonisingly slow pace, so much so that you’re overjoyed when Saturday arrives and you join Ymir back at Eren’s dormitory building for Armin’s belated birthday gathering.

Once you cross the familiar courtyard, you steal a glance up at Eren’s flat, a flood of memories rushing back to you. Hating to admit the disappointment of learning that Armin lived in a different section of the building to Eren, you look away from the full length windows peering in to Eren’s kitchen and hurry behind Ymir and Reiner as they stride down the path towards the heavy green doors. 

There’s a whole regiment of friends to Ymir who you’ve never even met before. There had never been any need to introduce you to the friends Ymir made during her first year of university when they all lived in the same building, and Ymir liked it that way. 

She had a balance of friend groups for different purposes: her fixed group of friends (including Reiner and a dozen others), you (who Ymir considered her best friend, even when she had a poor way of showing it sometimes) and her first year friends, of which includes Eren and the birthday boy, Armin.

You’re not so much fussed by meeting them for the first time. If all goes wrong, you have nothing to lose. 

Luckily, the unification of Ymir’s two friend groups goes according to plan; the collection of strangers prove to be friendly and welcoming, and you almost feel comfortable sitting in between Ymir and Reiner, his arm behind you on the back of the sofa and Ymir’s elbow on your knee as she leans forward to talk with Eren. 

Opposite you, a few of Ymir’s friends fall into a cacophony of laughter that makes you look over at them with interest. A girl with brown hair leans back into her friends arm as a guy with a buzz-cut steps into the kitchen, patting his hands on his cargos as if they were wet. You look away again when Reiner brings you up in the conversation he’s having to your right, and you’re intention is to remain there until your ears prick up at someone’s voice opposite you.

“Shit, mama, you good?”

Your head snaps to the side. 

Buzz-cut arches forward in his seat with a grin on his face, patting his hand on the brunette girl’s back as she coughs into her arm. The other friend, a dirty blond who you think is called Jean, takes her drink from her hands with a laugh while she splutters. Buzz-cut laughs too, the sound all too fucking familiar.

In your chest, your heart hammers before plunging to the pit of your stomach. When he rearranges himself and lays his hands flat on his parted knees, your eyes wander to his fingers and catch the sight of a slim silver band around his middle finger, and you feel your whole body go rigid.

It’s him. 

It’s your Ghostface.

“Shit, Sasha, why’d you spit your drink everywhere?” Eren asks, chuckling at the girl as she apologetically wipes her mouth and makes a move to wipe away the water. “Ugh, stop, stop.”

“Can you get the kitchen roll from the cupboard, Connie?” sighs Armin, and you watch as buzz-cut rises to his feet and circles towards a cupboard and pulls out the kitchen roll. A cupboard he knew to look inside, the familiar entry to the kitchen — your mysterious Ghostface lives here, and your body warms at the fact.

Connie approaches the shitty coffee table and unravels a blanket of paper before laying it across the spill, soaking up whatever it was Sasha was drinking. He does it fast, but you steal whatever looks you can at him while he’s not looking back. 

His hair is silver, the glint of silvery hoops and studs in his left ear standing out as an accent to his appearance. You watch his fingers grip the soggy clumps of tissue and familiarise yourself with them; just a few days ago, those fingers were around your waist, that thumb rolling circles around your clit.

You subtly fidget in your seat and try to look away, but you find yourself with the urge to look at him constantly, feeling like a schoolgirl crushing on her classmate. 

“What’s it with you and coffee tables?” Reiner asks Sasha, bringing her gaze over to him and by extension you. She smiles at you both, considering you’re looking right at her and between her, Jean and Connie. “Didn’t you hurl on Eren’s on Halloween?”

“That actually wasn’t me,” Sasha says immediately, frantically looking at Eren as he levels a look at her. “I swear. I swear it wasn’t me. It was Mina, I swear.”

“I watched you do it,” Reiner replies.

“No, no! Connie, back me up—”

“He wasn’t even there!”

Connie glances at Sasha as if weighing his options by defending her, and then he looks at Reiner. As he does so, you feel your heart in your throat when his eyes pass by your figure and settle on Reiner, and then suddenly jump back to you in a double take.

Connie stands there for a moment, his eyes glued to you like a predator to prey. You watch his eyes flicker around your face, analysing you, before falling down to your chest, your legs, and then finally back at your face. You wonder if you might have fallen under the radar if only you hadn’t clenched your legs tighter together and squirmed in your seat, which is all the evidence Connie needed to confirm that you were the girl who’s pussy he’d been up inside a few nights ago.

You don’t begin to guess what he might be thinking. He slowly comes back to his senses and sits in his chair, his gaze wandering around the room before inevitably coming back to you, finding your gaze still fixed on him in a stunned surprise that he feels bloom into a sort of pride. 

As he stares at you, he lets his head tilt to the side with a smile, watching the way your chest rises and falls before you force your gaze away, determined to find something interesting in Ymir’s conversation with the person next to her.

But now that you’ve seen him, and now that Connie’s seen you, you know that something has shifted, and when the vibrating pulse in your crotch returns unpleasantly, you force it away and count the seconds before you can leave with Ymir in tow — unsuspecting of the eyes that will follow as you go; oblivious to the desire stirring inside of Connie’s body to finish what he started on Halloween.

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Band AU: Hazbin Hotel

Because there's always a band AU.

-666 News Broadcast Theme Plays through the dive bar cafe from the small, flickering TV in the corner-

Katie Killjoy: Breaking News in the Pop industry today! Our sunshine and rainbows, Mandy Moore wannabe, and Princess of Hell, Charlotte Morningstar, has come out with a new music video to help promote a brand new album that appears to have been conjured up seemingly overnight.

Angel: Hey, Vagina! (Elbows Vaggie) Ain't that your girl crush from the open band night down at Husk's Casino two months ago?

Vaggie: (chokes on her coffee) What?! Turn it up, Jackass!

Angel: (steals the remote from across the bartop and turns up the TV)

Tom Trench: And, boy howdy, this makeover is on par with most Disney child stars diving off the deep end!

Katie Killjoy: (spears a pen through Tom's hand) No one gives a shit Tom.

Tom Trench: MY HAND!!!

Katie Killjoy: Spectators and fans of our usually diabetically sweet princess feel that this sudden shift is caused by her breakup with Seviathan Von Eldritch just last month, ending the royal arranged engagement, after he mentioned how she refused to "put out" before marriage in an interview with Hell's High Class Weekly.

Vaggie: (bristles) The douchebag....

Katie Killjoy: Let's watch as our lovely princess makes her breakdown public.

-Screen shifts to Charlie holding a mic in one hand while picking a guitar in another, wearing 2000's Avril Lavigne glam rock attire (hot pink, baggy cargo pants, black leather studded belt, rainbow converse, black leather wrist bands, grey tank top with two black goats faced just the right way so their curved horns make a heart and tied together with a rainbow knot, and a black and red stripped tie) Razzle and Dazzle are playing drums and bass-

Charlie: Don't you know that IIIIIIIII- (flips off the camera and sticks out her tongue while mouthing "Fuck you, Seviathan" as the song reaches its climax) I don't give a daaaaaaaamn about you!!! I won't give it up, not for you!!! I'm not gonna cry about some stupid guy. A guy who thinks he's all that!

Vaggie: Whoa! (Big smiles like when Adam got stabbed) Get it, Charlie!

Katie Killjoy: (as the screen returns to normal) Other songs on the album include "Behind These Crimson Eyes", "The Dick Who Blocked His Own Shot", "Smack a Bitch", "Since U Been Gone", and the gay community's rabid favorite "Dear Vaggie"-

Angel: (sucking down his third popsicle for breakfast) What now?

Vaggie: WHAT?!?!?!?!

Katie Killjoy: -The obviously plagiarized parody of "Cool for the Summer" by Demi Lovato has unsubtle lesbian and bisexual overtones that specifically mentions Vaggie "the Steel Vagina". The lead singer and guitarist of the Power/Grunge Metal band, Fallen Angels

Angel: (wheezes as he laughs breathlessly and falls off his stool)

Vaggie: (steaming) Angel!!! ¡Eres un chupapollas, hijo de puta! Why would you tell the news that was my name?!

Angel: (ugly walrus gasps and giggles) Because it's better than I ever dreamed!!!!

Katie Killjoy: Fans of both artists are absolutely frothing at the mouth to see what Vaggie's response will be.

Tom Trench: Frothing at the mouth and other orifices, if you catch my drift. (Gets a pen slammed into his balls) GaaAhaHaaaaHaha!

Katie Killjoy: More on this story tonight at eleven.

Vaggie:

Angel: Soooooo~ Whatcha wanna doooooo~?

Vaggie: We're going to Tune Town, getting a copy of that album-

Angel: Ooooooooh-hohohoooooh~ I can visit dat nice glory hole they got there.

Vaggie: -THEN!!! We are going back to the apartment and making a response single.

Angel: Do you know what you even want to put in it?

Vaggie: (slipping on her jacket) I'll figure it out after listening to the album!

[gretavangroupie]

Enrapture

Word count: 13.2k

Pairing: Daniel Wagner x Female Reader

Warnings: Language, Alcohol, Smoking. Smut: Kissing, Touching, Oral M!Receiving, Fingering, Oral F!Receiving, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Biting, Spanking, Blood, Blood Play, Cum Play, Unprotected Sex, Rough Sex. Fluff.

A/N: Hey! Welcome back for the second installment of the four part Valentine's Day Mini Series I've been working on along with my best pal, @sacredstarcatcher! We've had so much fun writing these, and we hope that you enjoy Daniel's story! There's only two left now, and we can't wait to share them with you! See you real soon!

You’ve been waiting for this night for weeks, marking off the days on your calendar with a pink highlighter since the end of December. You got the call and immediately said yes, not even taking into consideration the day. It wasn’t hard to get the rest of your band mates to agree to it, only one of them even in a relationship. February 14th was really just another day, and tonight your band was set to play. 

It took some careful convincing but everyone knew that opening for The Foxies would be, to date, your biggest opportunity yet. You put the finishing touches on your outfit, waiting for the rest of the band to pick you up in the van. You zipped your black chelsea boots, and straightened your black lace corset top against your jeans as you fluffed your fingers through your freshly blown out hair. You gave yourself a look in the mirror one last time, the shine of your lip gloss catching in the bathroom light. 

The time on the clock is quickly ticking by, and you’re starting to get nervous that it's well past your pick up time. Thankful that they already have your guitar in the van, you know that as soon as they pull up you will be jumping inside as the van continues to roll. 

About fifteen minutes and a few anxious walks around your living room later, you hear the horn honking outside. You grab your coat and your keys and dash out the door, sending a quick text to your friend letting her know you’re running late. 

“Late to our biggest gig yet?! This looks bad, guys.” you screech, slamming the door shut behind you. 

“Chill, we'll make it. Van wouldn’t start, but she's runnin’ now.” Carter barks from the front seat, patting his hand on the dashboard. You roll your eyes and buckle your seat belt, listening to them chatter as you anxiously await your arrival. 

—

Rushing down the basement steps with your gear, you wade through the decently sized crowd making your way to the side of the stage. You can tell the opening band is almost finished and you rip your guitar case open to check the tuning. 

From the corner of your eye you see your best friend sauntering up to you, camera in hand just like she promised. You try to give her the quick rundown of the set so she can plan her shots but you can tell her head is elsewhere as she peers over her shoulder scanning the crowd. You wonder if it has anything to do with the boy she was talking to as you walked in. 

“Foxtrot, you’re up!” you hear the coordinator shout, and you know it’s time to take the stage. You throw your arms around your friend's neck, kissing her cheek and taking your leave for the stage. “Wish us luck! Make sure you get my good side!” 

With your guitar slung around your shoulder, you wait for Carter to cue you in on the drums, ready to play to this rowdy crowd in front of you. Your eyes scan the audience as Steff starts to sing, spotting a few familiar t-shirts with your band logo on them. A smile crosses your face as you enter in on the next song, seeing your friend down below you as she works her away across the stage snapping photos you hope to use for the band's socials. Your fingers are dancing along the frets, keeping perfect time with the drums and bass as you look out into the crowd again.

When your eyes sweep the room you notice a guy leaning against the brick wall, drinking from a beer can as he nods his head along in time with the music. His eyes are on you, dark and piercing. His dark curly hair frames his face beneath his hat, turned backwards of course in the darkness of the room. You see a smirk pull across his lips as you make eye contact, and you feel yourself blushing so you look away. 

You wish that you hadn’t abandoned his gaze when you look away and spot your ex on the other side of the room, about four rows back, with his eyes on you. You knew there was a chance he would be here. You’d been dodging his calls for weeks, and rightfully so. He betrayed your trust and that was that. You didn’t have time for the back and forth, and to be honest, he wasn’t what he portrayed himself to be anyways. You cut your losses and you have been significantly happier since. As he stands here in front of you, you feel a sense of dread wash over you, knowing this is an issue you’ll have to deal with after the set, on Valentine’s day no less. 

Your attention is snapped away from him, watching as your friend and her camera go flying over a rogue cord on the ground. With her eye to the lens she missed it, tumbling into the hands of a familiar stranger. You laugh under your breath, working your way into the next song, and letting your eyes flick back to your curly haired admirer. 

You’re pretty sure you know who he is, his appearance definitely fits the description, though you didn’t realize how cute he would be in person. He was known to pop up at these shows, always looking for the next great thing, adding names to his ever expanding catalog of local bands. You hadn’t come across him at any of your gigs yet, but it looked like tonight was your lucky night. 

—

After the show you find yourself accepting compliment after compliment, hugs and encouraging words coming from almost every familiar face in the crowd. Between conversations, you try to make your way to the kitchen for at least some water, but for a solid 10 minutes, you’re stuck hosting a receiving line.

As anticipated, your ex makes his way towards you. He’s got a look on his face that tells you he’s had a few drinks and that doesn’t bode well for you.

“Look at you,” he coos, physically pulling you in for a hug with a hand around your upper back. You grimace, politely accepting the inappropriate greeting. “Gotta admit, it’s pretty cool to see my girl up there knowing she’s–”

“Not your girl.” you say, immediately cutting him off. “Thanks for coming.” You try to get away but he grabs your forearm and makes it difficult.

“Hey hey hey, what’s the ruuush?” he slurs, stepping into your line of sight again. “You can’t still be mad.”

“I’m not mad, I just don’t want anything to do with you.” You try to pull yourself out of his predatory grasp but he’s effectively cornering you. 

“I miss you, baby. Look at me and tell me you don’t think about me. Something deep down in there still wants me.” he says, poking you gently in the chest. 

“Fuck off, Brent.” You snap, shooting him a look that could kill. Right as the tension bubbles over, you feel a warm hand on the back of your neck. 

“Hey, got you that drink you wanted.” Turning to look over your shoulder, you’re met with the same pair of striking, dark eyes that were watching you from the back during your performance. 

Brent immediately looks disgruntled, sizing up the tall stranger who is placing his arm around you. 

“Do I know you?” Brent asks.

“Oh, hey, names Danny. Nice to meet you.” He lifts his arm back over your head, then offers his hand to Brent for a sarcastic handshake. You watch the two interact with wide eyes and realize that this Danny character noticed you were in distress and decided to step in. 

“Didn’t think I needed to introduce myself, sorry about that. Most people here have at least some idea who I am.” You turn to look up at him, a little dumbfounded at the way he’s radiating smug confidence strong enough to disarm your asshole ex. 

Brent gives a few slow nods as his eyes move between the two of you. He seems to put the pieces together, deciding to take his leave.

“I’ll see you around,” Brent says to you with a terse smile, pushing his way through the crowd and out of sight. Once he’s gone, you turn to fully face your savior, giving him a relieved smile. 

You had heard about Danny Wagner. Drummer, Nashville local, party boy, general good time. He’s a little too famous to be at a show like this, so you can’t help but ask him why.

“Thanks for stepping in. I could have handled it, but… you really expedited it. So thanks.” You say, a little guarded, but appreciative nonetheless. 

“He seemed like a real prick, and I had been waiting to come over and introduce myself anyway.” Danny says, his smile sweet and disarming, but you’re not going to let yourself fall into the trap you know many women have fallen into before.

“I thought you didn’t need to?” you quip boldly, opening the beer he handed you. 

“Well, do I?” he responds quickly, laughing softly.

“It’s only polite…” you muse.

“Daniel Wagner. I really liked your set.” he says, tipping the bottle of beer back and licking his lips clean after he takes a sip. 

“That’s very kind.” you say, polite, but a little cold. Your eyes scan the room quickly, a little concerned about what others may think looking at this conversation from the outside. Danny’s reputation is less than great, and you wouldn’t want anyone attributing the slight amount of success you would say tonight was to him. 

“Can I ask what you’re doing at a basement show, though?” you prod, giving him a bit of a suspicious look. He takes it in stride, his confidence never faltering. 

“I was supposed to be on my way to New York, but due to some…unforeseen circumstances, I found myself at home on Valentine’s day. Seeing as most restaurants are booked, bars are full of schmucks on dates, and all that… I figured I would drop in. Stay up to date on the local music scene. You know.”

You raise your brows at him. You actually don’t know, so you crack a smile. 

“I see. How kind of you to grace us with your presence.” you snark, trying to suppress a grin.

Danny lets out a big laugh at that, almost choking on his beer. You laugh along, glad he’s not too offended. There’s no way he hadn’t heard the murmurings about him, so it’s nice to see he’s a good sport. 

“I’m gonna–” You start to tell him you have to go load up your equipment when you’re interrupted by a random voice.

“Hey! Can we get a picture?” 

That’s your cue. You sneak away towards the stage, starting to pack up alongside your bandmates. Every few minutes, you glance back towards Danny, caught up with some excited fans. It’s not that you’re avoiding him, because if you’re being honest, there’s something about him that’s drawing you in. It’s the gnawing worry at the back of your mind that’s telling you to tread lightly.

Crouching down, you peel up the tape from the makeshift stage. As you stand and follow the trail, pulling it from the floor, you’re brought to a pair of bright white Adidas stepping on it, keeping you from going any further. Straightening up to stand at your full height, you realize it’s Danny.

“Need a hand?”

“Oh, no, you’re fine. It’s a little complicated, so…” You try to brush him off.

“I’m sure I can figure it out.” he says, a little snarky. “The faster you’re done the faster you can have fun, right?” He’s proving to be a persistent guy who definitely likes a challenge. Something about that brings some color to your cheeks, but you try to keep a level head.

“If you really insist…” you tell him with a smirk, stepping aside so he can unplug the cord you just freed from the stage. 

The room is still fairly loud so as Danny helps you get packed up there aren’t too many words exchanged. You feel his eyes on you though. It’s difficult not to steal a few glances his way too, watching as he bends at the knee, his broad shoulders flexing while he maneuvers around equipment. 

Carter pushes away with the last road case and then there’s little to nothing left to do. 

“Thanks for your help. You seriously didn’t have to do that.” 

“It’s all good. I honestly miss doing some of the more hands-on stuff. It felt like riding a bike.” He gives you a genuine smile, his comment making you reconsider your preconceived notions of him. He seems to be a sweet guy despite his sizable ego and cocky presence. You brush your hands off on your thighs and offer Danny a grateful smile. As you do so, you feel the key to the van in your front pocket.

“Oh, shit. They’re probably out there waiting for me.” You jump into motion, heading for the door you came in through. Danny follows your quick footsteps with relaxed, large ones of his own, shifting to squeeze through the crowd with you. You’re surprised to find him behind you when you get out into the cold, but decide not to question it this time. You just smile and jog down the stairs. 

He proves to be incredibly helpful, lifting and stowing the heaviest items without more than the occasional grunt. Your eyes are constantly darting between your task at hand and his arms- the fabric of the athletic quarter zip he’s wearing is stretching around his biceps and it’s enough to make your heart pound. 

“You really didn’t have to do all that.” you murmur with a warm smile as Danny shuts the door. He lets out a big breath, his shoulders relaxing a little.

“It’s really nothing. I’m happy to help.” He goes on speaking but you’re distracted as you look over his shoulder, seeing your best friend and photographer over at her car, talking to a guy who’s within awfully close proximity. You can’t see his face, but he’s in a red beanie and a sweater. You have a feeling your plans to hang out after the show tonight are about to go to the wayside as you watch them talk and bump elbows. 

“It’s freezing out here. I’m gonna… head inside?” you say, a questioning lilt to your voice. You don’t directly ask him to come with you, but you assume he’s going to. 

“Yeah, let’s get you another drink. I lost track of it when you put it down on one of the amps.” he says, leading you back inside with a hand on the small of your back. 

You immediately feel nervous as you walk back through the door and a few pairs of eyes find you with Danny trailing almost too close behind. You worry they’ll think the worst, which you can’t imagine would be good for your possibly blossoming career, but he’s been charming and helpful thus far and it wouldn’t be fair to write him off. 

“I’m gonna find the bathroom. Don’t go anywhere, alright?” he says, leaning in close to say the words in your ear, making sure they’re heard despite the next band starting to warm up. You nod and he walks off while you search the kitchen for something to drink.

You crack open a can of beer and sip the foam that starts to bubble up. As you’re doing so, a petite dark haired girl approaches you. She seems young, her skin a striking olive shade. You swallow the foam in your mouth and lift your head.

“Hey...” she says, looking over her shoulder, then back at you.

“Hi!” you return, wiping your mouth. You go to speak again, intending to ask if she liked the show, but she cuts you off. She steps a little closer, since it’s incredibly loud.

“I just wanted to give you a heads up. About Danny?”

You retract a little, surprised that she thinks you need a warning. Had the two of you come across as having that much chemistry? You nod and lean forward again for her to continue.

“I’d just be careful with him if I were you. He really doesn’t have the best reputation, or a shred of respect for women. Don’t let him fool you.”

You scoff a laugh, a little annoyed and insulted that this girl thinks you don’t have good judgment or can’t fend for yourself. 

“Oh, great! Thanks for the tip!” you quip, watching her eyes cut just a touch, as you feel a hand brush across your lower back. 

“Tori…” his voice is smooth, as he takes his place next to you. “Can’t say I didn’t expect to see you here.” he pauses, dropping his hand from your back to step a little closer.  “You’re always just kind of… here, aren’t you?” He sips from his fresh drink as he waits for her response.

“Actually, Daniel, I was just leaving.” she replies, tossing her hair over her shoulder pretending to be unaffected. 

“Ouch, the government name…” he feigns hurt, pressing a hand to his chest.

“Well, thanks for coming out!” you say, an air of faux enthusiasm in your voice. She rolls her eyes subtly as she walks away, and you smile turning to face Danny who is wearing his own cheeky grin. 

“So, what were you two talking about?” he asks, peering over the edge of his beer can.

“Oh, she was just… complimenting the set, nothing really.” you lie, biting your lips together.

“Who, Tori? She probably hasn’t even stepped foot into the basement! She’s here for one thing and one thing only and it’s not the music, I can assure you.” he says with a huff of annoyance.

“Oh, can you? Assure me?” you smirk playfully. 

“No! Well, I mean, god. Okay yes, I can. But also, that’s not why I’m here, and it wasn’t that night either. Okay?” he stammers over his words, you’ve caught him in the act and you can tell this doesn't happen often. 

“I’m just messing with you.” you say, watching a blonde girl pat him on his back as she walks behind him. “Hi Danny…” her syrupy sweet voice says. 

 He turns to her to say hello before quickly turning back to you. “Sorry bout that.” he says, refocusing on your conversation, stepping a bit closer. 

Just as you go to speak, you hear someone call his name from across the room, grabbing his attention yet again. He lifts a hand and waves two fingers back at the girl, before lowering it back down and into his pocket.

You raise your eyebrows in question, and he lets his face grow a little softer. 

“I can let you get back to the party, I don’t want to keep you–”

“No, listen, you wanna…You wanna go somewhere else? Not here? A bar or something?” he asks, sincerity lining his voice. 

“I thought they were full of schmucks…” you quip. 

“They are…Never said I wasn’t one…” he smiles back with the raise of his brow.

“What’s wrong? You worried the ghosts of girlfriends’ past are gonna ruin your chances, here?” you quip, offering him a tiny wink.

“So you’re saying I do have a chance…” his eyes are shining in the dim house lights, a few stray curls falling from beneath his baby blue trucker hat. He bites his lip nervously waiting for your response and you can feel the butterflies swirling in your stomach from just his gaze alone.

“Mmm, I haven’t decided yet.” you answer, taking a pull from your beer.

“So let me take you for a drink, then. You can decide after if I’m really as bad as they say.” 

“Aren’t you even a little bit concerned about people talking? People have seen us together all night, and I’m sure half of Tori’s social circle knows at this point, and have found me on Instagram already.” you smirk. 

“No, fuck all those rumors. They are completely out of hand. People get mad when you cut them off. If they can’t talk to you, they’re gonna talk about you. It’s all they have. I don’t let it get to me, I know it’s not true.” he answers, and you feel a little surprised to hear something so noble come from him. 

You tap your finger to your chin pretending to decide, but you already know you’re going. You just don’t want him to know that yet.

“Where?” you question. 

“Somewhere in East? I know a few quieter places.” he answers, really trying his best, you can tell.

“Hmm… You’ll drive me home after?” you ask. 

“Of course. Just say yes, just one drink.” he pauses. “I’ll be on my best behavior.” he says, patting his hand over his heart.

You suck your teeth and pivot on the heel of your boot. “Alright, one…” 

He smiles, and you're positive that had he shown that perfect smile from the get go, you’d have been a goner from the jump. 

“Only because I live over there…” you smile. 

“Oh, no other reason?” he grins, sending you a wink. 

He places his hand on your back again, causing a shiver to run up your spine. You feel good walking out with him, despite the glares you can feel from across the room. He leads you through the crowd, heading towards the door but before you can reach it, a girl jumps out in front of you commanding your attention. You can tell she is drunk by the haziness of her eyes and the blush of her cheeks. Well, that and the drink sloshing out of her red solo cup. 

“I'm sooooo sorry t’bother you…” her words are slurring together and you know this is probably not the first time Danny has had to deal with this. 

“No no, no bother, what’s up? How are you?” he asks, his demeanor suddenly shifting. 

“I just– I have to tell you how much I love your music, it like literally changed my life…I’m like your biggest fan ever.” she slurs, falling over onto her starstruck friend. 

“That’s awesome, thank you so much for listening, we really appreciate you guys.” he answers. 

“Can we take a picture with you?” she asks, pulling her phone from her back pocket. You can tell he doesn’t want to, but he would never tell them that.

“Yeah, yeah no problem, hold on let me just–”

Before he can step closer to her, she is holding the phone up as she moves back, crashing into him and sending her drink flying. Danny is doused in the sticky liquid, what you think is probably vodka and Coke.

His pullover is soaked through, and you watch his jaw clench with anger. He stays calm, however, consoling the very embarrassed fan as if nothing ever happened. “It’s all good, no worries at all. Happens all the time. But hey, we were heading out, great to meet you.”

He quickly ushers you through the crowd, letting out a few mumbles of anger as you walk towards his car. 

“That really happen all the time?” you smirk, watching him smile as he shakes his head. 

“It’s usually not that messy. Literally and figuratively.” He says, clearly in a bit of a huff. He pulls out his keys and unlocks the Jeep that you know is his once the lights flash. You head to the passenger side and hop in, happy to be safe from the wind. You see him standing outside the door for a second, tapping his phone screen before holding it up to his ear. 

“Where’d you get off to?” He asks, his voice muffled. He opens the door, sliding into the driver’s seat as he listens to whoever is on the other line.

“I’m fine, yeah, just checking in. Didn’t know you left. You bag that chick you were chatting with?” He starts the car quickly once he realizes you’re cold, his hands messing with the dials and turning on the heat for you. You give him a little smirk at the locker room talk you’re sitting in on right now and hope he doesn’t say a word about you. He smirks as he goes to speak once more.

“Hell no. Neither is Jake. You’re stuck with Josh and his girl. So, have fun with that.” Danny says, getting adjusted and buckling his seatbelt. He laughs at whoever is on the other end of the phone and the sound of his laugh brings a little warmth to your otherwise freezing body. 

“Yeah, yeah. You too. See ya.” He hangs up and tosses his phone into the center console. When he’s done, he lifts his hand to push some hair behind his ear and there’s audible proof of how sticky it is. 

“Hang on,” he starts, shifting sideways to look at you as you buckle your seatbelt. “Can we actually stop at my place and have a drink first? I just… I need to change and maybe rinse this shit out of the ends of my hair.” He seems pretty annoyed and you feel for him, so you can’t help but nod. 

“Totally fine.” You smile in an attempt to quell a little bit of his anger bubbling up under the surface. 

He aggressively shifts into drive and all but peels out of the spot he’s parked in, probably leaving tracks in the grass of whoever’s house this is without a care. You smirk as he leans forward to look around the bend of the road before he pulls out and picks up a significant amount of speed. 

The song playing picks up where it must have left off when he arrived, and you think you recognize the familiar sound of the Foo Fighters. He turns it up a little as he starts to sing along, softly and maybe even subconsciously as he concentrates on the road. He’s a bit of a reckless driver, and you find your hand reaching for the handle on the door subtly. 

The chorus comes in and he drums along on the steering wheel as you approach some main roads, slowing down just a little. 

“Give me some rope, I'm coming loose, I’m pulling for you now…”

You smile as he seems to let go of whatever anger was brimming and his charming smile comes back as his enthusiasm grows. Eventually, after a particularly loud, “YEOW!” towards the end of the song, you have to let out a laugh. He glances over at you once he hears it, his eyes flickering between you and the road for a moment before he bites his tongue between his teeth in a playful way that makes your stomach flip. The song ends and another one starts, this one softer, a sweet melodic undercurrent as he drives. Danny taps his fingers softly against the wheel along with the melody like he’s listened to it a few times. 

You know the distance never made a difference to me…

It’s getting brighter as he drives, heading past the restaurants and bars lining the streets of Nashville, crowds and lines and not a single parking spot to be found. 

I swam a lake of fire, I’d have walked across the floor of any sea… 

You listen, not feeling the need to make any conversation, taking these little insights into his taste in music and running with them, putting the pieces together. You find these tidbits more valuable than if he were to outright start talking about himself directly to you. 

As you steal glances at him, you look around his car too. There are a few rubber ducks on the dashboard. One is a leprechaun, another is solid blue. There’s a bigger one that’s white with cherries. There’s one you think is Frankenstein, but you can’t quite tell. 

He has some chapstick in the center console under his phone, a stick of Palmer’s cocoa butter lip balm. He has a friendship bracelet tied to the wrist closest to you, and the opposite has a thin gold bracelet and a smart watch of some sort. His jeans have a little faded indent that shows where he usually keeps his phone.

He flips on his blinker and pulls onto a side street, driving slower now through the suburban streets. As he pulls into his driveway, he turns the music down a little, looking at you while he shifts into park. 

He reaches for his phone, then the chapstick. He puts some on quickly and then offers it to you, holding on to the cap. You accept, swiping on a little before wordlessly handing it back. He secures the cap and then speaks. 

“Shall we?” 

You open the car door and jump out, fixing your clothes briefly before closing it behind you. He wraps a warm arm around you as he leads the way down the pathway to the front door of his house. 

“God, it’s fucking freezing.” He says, eventually taking his arm back so he can use both hands to put the key in and turn the knob.

As you wait for him to unlock his front door you can smell the sticky sweetness radiating from his clothes, mixing with the masculine scent of his cologne. He smells warm and clean and you want to bury your face into him to escape the cold. The wind is whipping your hair around, and cutting through the fabric of your corset top, sending shivers through your body. He pushes the door open and you’re instantly met with the heat of his home, bathed in warm amber lighting. 

He flips a few light switches and plugs his keys into a Marshall key rack, before kicking his shoes off and locking the door. He takes off his hat, and peels off his liquor covered pull over, giving you the smallest glimpse of the dark hair peeking from the top of his jeans. He tosses it onto his kitchen counter and it's then you see the thick black bands inked across his bicep. His t-shirt is tight across his chest, adorned with birds and a sunset motif, as he reaches for his hat, placing it back on top of his dark curls letting out a sigh of relief before looking at you. 

“So, drinks. What do you um– What would you like? I think I can make most anything.” he says, walking over to a small wooden bar cart against the wall. You unzip your boots and leave them at his front door, happy to finally have them off after all this time.

“Anything?” you ask, leaning your hip into his kitchen counter. “How confident are you in your mixology skills?”

He gives you a smug grin, “I’d say I’m pretty confident. I’ve been known to pour up a drink or two. No complaints so far.”

“Can you make a Martini? A good one?” you ask, pushing off the counter and walking over towards him. 

“Vodka or Gin?” he asks, sliding both of the bottles from their respective places. “Wait, are you a dirty girl?”

You send him a self righteous smile and lean against the cabinet next to him. “What do you think?”

“Okay. So, Gin it is.” he says, twisting the lid from the bottle. 

“Lucky guess.” you answer, watching him walk to the fridge to retrieve a jar of olives. He grabs a cocktail shaker and a few ice cubes on his way back to the bar cart, setting the items down to begin the process. You watch intently as he adds the Gin and Vermouth to the shaker, adding a healthy splash of olive brine to the silver cup. He places the lid on top of the shaker and starts to shake the mixture together over the ice. His arms flex as he does so, and you can’t seem to take your eyes off of him and his perfectly tanned complexion. 

After a few seconds he stops, pulling the frosty lid off and straining the mixture into two waiting martini glasses. He works precariously to skewer a few olives through toothpicks, dropping them into the glasses and extending the first one out to you. 

You take a sip from the cold glass, tasting the saltiness on your tongue. 

“Well, dirty enough for you?” he asks, sipping from his own.

“Mmhm. Just right.” you murmur. 

He leads you over to his couch, a firm black leather number with a few throw pillows and a blanket or two strewn about. You both sit, sipping at your drinks as he reaches over to grab a remote, turning on a stereo system that's clearly wired through the whole house. 

“Any preference?” he asks, pulling out his phone.

“Surprise me.” 

Music starts to play through the house, something much softer than you expected based on what he’d played in the car. You definitely didn’t take him for a folk rock kind of guy, but the more you think about it, he’s been full of surprises all night. 

You can feel your chest growing warm as the gin works its way into your bloodstream. His cheeks are a little more pink than they were, and since the removal of his jacket you notice his arms are a little flushed too. 

You look around his living room, noticing pictures on the wall of what you can only assume are his bandmates and he in various cities and countries. A few framed albums hang on the wall along with some artwork for color. However, the entire back wall of his living room is lined with guitars. 

“You play guitar…” the words slip out of your mouth before you can stop them. 

“Yeah, yeah. I do. Was my first instrument, though now I’m a drummer. Guitar was really my first love. What about you? How long you been playing?” he asks. 

“Oh, since I was eleven. Got one for Christmas and my parents got me some lessons. Just kinda clicked you know?” you answer, “Which uh– which one is your favorite?” you ask, gesturing your glass towards the guitars hanging. 

“Oooh, probably– Um, probably the yellow one, far left. I find myself reaching for it the most. Good little thing, lots of power if you know how to wield it.” he answers, sipping from his glass. 

You nod and look back at him, “So you love guitar but you’re the drummer?” you ask. 

“Yeah, I know, sounds backwards but, my brother, Jake, he’s…He’s way better than I’ll ever be. I fit on drums, you know? It works for us. Obviously.” he laughs, a dimple peeking out on his cheek. 

“Yeah, yeah I understand I almost played bass in my band.” you quip, tossing back the rest of your drink. You pull the toothpick of olives from the glass and pop one into your mouth.

“Are these blue cheese olives?” you ask. 

“They are, yeah. I like them in a Martini.” he answers confidently. 

“They’re really good. I love olives.” you reply, setting your glass on the coffee table. 

“So, you had your one drink. It’s the moment of truth…”

“Hmm… Might need another to make a really good solid decision, you know?” you say playfully, resting your head on the couch cushion and letting your eyes flick up to meet his. 

“I think I could do that…” he says, snatching your glass from the table and returning to the bar cart. 

“You know, you guys sounded really good up there. I was into it. I’m glad we got there when we did.” he says, shaking the silver shaker. 

“We?” you ask, wondering who he left at the show.

“Oh, yeah. I came with my buddy Sam. The one on the phone earlier. He’s the bass player in our band.” he says, pouring up the drinks. 

“I see, so you left him there...” you joke. 

“You heard for yourself he seemed preoccupied…” he laughs, and he’s right, he definitely sounded busy. 

“So you two are like, best friends outside of the band?” you ask, accepting the glass from his hand as he rejoins you on the couch, a little closer this time. He grabs a thick blue blanket from the back of the couch and tosses it to you with a gentle smile as he answers your question. 

“Yeah, I mean we were best friends before the band ever really existed. Just kind of solidified our friendship. Been quite a few years of craziness together.”

“And the others…They’re all brothers, right? Or is that just a rumor?” you ask.

“Yeah, all brothers, twins and then Sam who is a couple years younger. My age.” he says, sipping from his glass with a loud exhale. 

“Is that…weird?” you ask, a little hesitantly. 

“Not at all. I’m practically their brother too. Known ‘em my whole life. Wouldn’t be able to do this crazy on the go life with anyone but them, I think.” he says, letting his walls down just enough to let you peek in. 

“How many months out of the year do you guys tour?”

“Shit, a lot. We’re gone more than we’re home these days. Probably eight or nine I’d say. Either in the US, Europe, Mexico… Fuckin’ everywhere now. It’s crazy.” he says, staring off into the distance, his eyes locked on the small flame flickering in his electric fireplace.

“So you guys are pretty famous then...Touring that long… Even have random girls spilling their drinks on you at parties just for a single photo…” you wink. 

“Oh, do I detect a hint of jealousy from Miss Y/N?” he asks. 

“No, I’m not jealous… I mean, I’m the one sitting on your couch drinking Martini’s aren’t I?”

He laughs and shakes his head, tipping his drink to his lips. “I had to work for it, but… you sure are, sweetheart.”

“Did you think I wasn’t gonna say yes to drinks?” you ask, your eyes locking in on him as the alcohol swirls through your system. You can tell he’s feeling it too, letting himself become a little more flirty. 

“Wasn’t sure, was kinda touch and go there for a minute. I hoped you would agree. Could hardly take my eyes off of you all night. Saw you and… Yeah, I just had to talk to you.”

“You use that line on all the girls?” you ask, sipping the last of the frosty drink. 

“No, guys too, I don’t play favorites.” he smirks, biting the olive off of his toothpick with a wink. 

Fuck…

You smile and nod, biting your lip between your teeth as you feel color rush to your cheeks. 

“How does it feel?” he asks, his eyes trained on your lips, watching as you release it. 

“What?” you breathe.

He swallows harshly, “Nothin’...Nevermind.” he says, shaking the thoughts from his mind. “Well, drink two…Have you made up your mind yet? Am I as bad as they say? Are you dying to get out of here?” he asks, running his tongue over his bottom lip. He’s inched a little closer to you and you can feel the warmth radiating off of his body. 

“What if I say yes?” you ask, leaning forward just a touch.

He repositions himself, taking your glass and placing it with his on the table. He moves a little closer, mirroring your body as he rests his head on his hand on the back of the couch. 

“Well, then I’ll get us some water, get my head on straight, and take you home. Is that what you want?” he asks, his dark eyes boring into yours as he tilts his chin down.

“And if I say no?” you answer. 

“If you say no, then I…Make us another drink and we can keep talking and…see what happens…” he says, his voice trailing off, hoping you will take that option, and there’s no doubt in your mind which option you’re going to pick.

“What were you thinking about a minute ago? …Tell me.” you say, pulling your legs up and tucking them under you. 

He rubs his hand over his chin, nodding his head in agreement. “Your lips.”

“What about them?” you ask, feeling your heart start to pound.

“I don’t know, they’re just pretty. Wanted to know how it felt… watching you bite them.” he admits. He grins, unabashed. “Your turn…What’re you thinking about?” he asks. 

“I’m thinking…another drink.” He grins when he realizes you’ve made your decision. 

“I’ll make you another drink… But only if you tell me what you and Tori were actually talking about.” he counters as he stands, grabbing both of your glasses. As he walks away, you snicker softly. 

“Why do I feel like you already know?” you ask, standing to follow him to the kitchen island. He shrugs, his broad shoulders flexing a little in a way that catches your eye. You walk by him, exploring his kitchen. 

“I’m certain I was the subject, but something tells me her interpretation of what happened between her and I has become a bold departure from the truth…” he muses in a smooth voice as he pours. 

“It was a warning really…” you begin, standing in front of his refrigerator. There’s one pizza menu, a mostly unused magnetic notepad, and some photos. “She was letting me know that you’re very charming and convincing, but underneath it all, you apparently have zero respect for women.” 

He chuckles as he gently places the olive skewers in your drinks, unbothered by the retelling of Tori’s dramatic warning. You look at the photos on his fridge, realizing that most of them are of his family. They look pretty wholesome. 

“Tori and I ended badly because I felt that she was a bit too… immature, emotionally. She puts a lot of stock into social media and status and things like that, which just isn’t how I am. My life is on display enough already.” He says truthfully, pushing your drink towards you. 

“You have a sister?” You ask, looking over your shoulder, then back to their Old Navy catalog-esque family photos. 

“I do, yeah. She's my best friend… much to Sam’s dismay.” He says, sipping from his own glass and retreating to the couch. 

“That’s sweet…You two seem really close.” you say as you turn to grab your drink, following him as he takes a seat. 

“I’m not all bad.” 

He looks up at you, a devilish smirk on his lips. He tugs the brim of his hat a little, as if he wants to see you better. Taking a big gulp of your drink, you remove the olives and hold the toothpick between two fingers. 

“C’mere,” he murmurs, shifting his hips a little so his thighs are spread wide on the couch and patting his thigh. You flush from the combination of his eyes on you and the alcohol hitting your system. You put your glass down, figuring you’ve had enough, and delicately straddle him where he sits. Watching as he takes a sip of his own drink, you let out a little huff.

“Oh, I didn’t get to eat my olives.” you say, a little disappointed, turning to reach for your drink. 

“Here.” Danny’s voice is suddenly delicate as he speaks. You look back into his eyes and he’s got his own toothpick between his fingers. “Open.”

You open your mouth tentatively, then bite down on the bottom olive once it’s in far enough. He pulls the toothpick away and you chew gingerly, your smile a little coy. 

“S’good?” He asks, his voice still soft. You nod your head. “I feel like olives are hit or miss for a lot of people.”

“I love a good salty treat…” you say with a shrug, which earns you a boisterous chuckle from him. 

“You were a tough nut to crack but… you’re pretty fun.” He says, watching as you take a sip of his drink to wash the olive down since you can’t reach your own. You smile, your eyes slightly narrowed, wordlessly confirming that yeah, you’re fun when you want to be. 

As if he sees you’ve gotten a little bit of a big head over it, he decides to trip you up. He leans back and puts his drink on the end table before he speaks. 

“Why don’t you come a little closer and give me a kiss? I know you’ve been thinking about it.”

You lick your lips, a little nervous. He’s telling you to make the first move.

“Let me just get my pen…” you say, looking around. 

“What?” He looks genuinely confused. 

“Oh, for the NDA. Right?” 

As soon as you deliver the punchline, he’s pulling you in for a hungry kiss so fast you barely get a laugh out. His massive hand is on the back of your neck to keep you in place while the other has a grip on your forearm, again, keeping you in place. You moan softly in surprise but let yourself lean into him, steadying yourself on his chest with your free hand. You feel how damp his shirt still is from the drink he had poured on him. 

His lips are perfectly soft, reminding you of the chapstick he so graciously shared with you in the car. You tug softly on the grip he has in your forearm and he releases it, allowing you to push up for a breath of air. 

He, however, doesn’t seem to need any. He quickly buries his face in your neck, his mouth latching onto your throat, his tongue pulling the delicate skin between his teeth before he bites down with a bit of force. You can’t help the way your hips roll forward, your mouth releasing a sound you don’t even recognize. 

“Yeah?” He says, his smirk audible. 

“…Yeah.” 

He does it again and again, moving down your neck towards your clavicle, then the fullest part of each of your tits, leaving red bites and splotches as he goes. You’re breathless by the time he looks back up at you, his lips swollen and his eyes a little wild. He grins, his perfect, sharp teeth flashing in the dim light of his living room. 

You capture him in another kiss, this time lacing your fingers in his hair, carefully making sure not to pull at any of his perfect curls. You feel a little bit of the stickiness from the spill earlier and pull your hand away gently as hair gets stuck to your fingers. He breaks the kiss, taking a few shallow breaths as you watch the way his chest rises and falls. 

“…I’m a fuckin’ mess. What do you say to helping me wash this out of my hair?” He mumbles, his eyes looking over you in a way that implies he knows you’re going to say yes. 

“Oh, yeah. It looks like a two person job. I’m happy to help.”  You giggle softly before he pecks you on the lips. You lift from his lap, feeling your balance waver slightly as you get your footing. He’s on his feet quickly, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind to steady you. 

“Think you’ll make it up the stairs?” He jokes, his voice soft, his lips against the shell of your ear. You laugh as he squeezes tight around you, leaning your head against his.

“You do make a strong drink… but I’ll be okay.” 

He kisses your cheek, sending you forward with a quick smack on your ass. 

You ascend the stairs, Danny following close behind. You can feel his eyes on you as you reach the top, and turning over your shoulder only confirms it. He looks up and meets your eyes, giving you a guilty smile.

He puts a gentle, possessive hand on the back of your neck as he guides you into his bedroom. It’s dark until he flips on the lights, the switch controlling two lamps on either side of his bed. He doesn’t stop there, though, continuing to guide you towards the bathroom.

Once inside, you’re met with a sparkling clean bathroom, an impressive shower that’s about as big as your bedroom, and a dual basin sink. He turns you around for another kiss, this time sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, his teeth biting softly into the skin. When he hears the whimper it conjures from deep in your chest, he does it again with more enthusiasm before breaking the kiss and leaving you wanting more. 

He steps into the large open concept shower, flicking the handle to start the water. There's chill bumps spreading across his skin from the coldness of the water and the tile beneath his feet. He walks back out as you lean against the bathroom wall, watching him as he pulls his shirt over his head, revealing a fairly chiseled physique. His skin is pretty tan for February but you chalk it up to traveling and don’t think much of it. 

He presses the button on a portable speaker hanging from a towel hook behind you, powering it on. He slides his phone from his pants pocket and turns on the same music that was playing downstairs, before tossing his phone onto the counter and stepping over to a closet to grab another towel. He hangs it on the hook next to his and you wish that the sight didn’t make your cheeks grow warm. 

Steam starts to rise from the streams of water in the shower, and as you remember just how cold it is outside, you shiver wanting nothing more than to be standing under the scalding hot water. He breaks your trance by stepping in front of you, sliding his hand around your neck and pulling you in for a kiss. He pulls your bottom lip away from your teeth as he pulls away from you, releasing it with a grin. He runs his warm hands over your arms, feeling the chill bumps that have taken up residency. 

“You cold, sweetheart? You wanna get warmed up?” he asks, sliding them back up to your shoulders. His fingers hook into the the straps of your top, pulling them down over your shoulders to rest gently on your arms. 

“Yeah, got any ideas?” you answer playfully, toying with the button on his jeans. You free the button from the hole, and slide his zipper down before pulling them away. 

“A few right off the top of my head. Why don’t you take this off for me…” he says, sliding his finger down the center of your top. You reach for the zipper on the side, slowly pulling it down until the fabric breaks free. You let it fall to the tile floor, leaving you in just your black jeans. His eyes dart down to your chest and he sucks in a deep breath before letting his eyes meet yours. They are darker, deeper, and completely blown out with lust. 

He lets his knuckles just barely graze over your skin as they travel up your stomach and over your sternum, sliding across your collarbone and down around the fullness of your tits. His thumb just lightly grazes over your nipple, feeling the pebbled flesh beneath his finger tip.  

Your eyes flick to his lips, full and pouty as his fingers trace over your skin. You let your hands wrap around his torso as you press your lips to his, feeling his hands grip into your chest, with a firm squeeze. A whimper leaves your mouth and you can feel the smile on his lips. 

“These too?” he says, sliding his hand to the button on your jeans. 

“Mmhm…” you hum, letting him pop the button. You shimmy out of the tight black pants, just your thong between you and his hands now. 

“Red…How festive.” he snarks, sucking hard into your neck again. You roll your eyes but he can’t see, still it makes you feel better.

You slide your fingers into the front of his open jeans, silently asking him to join you. He pulls his pink lips away from your skin and kicks his jeans off, pausing and looking at you for a moment before sliding his dark colored boxers over his hips and down to the floor. Your eyes don’t leave his, but from your peripheral you can see that he is fully hard, and hanging heavily between the two of you. 

You swallow thickly, and he seems to notice, letting a smug grin spread across his face as he licks his lips. 

“Still a bit uneven, hm?” he says, hooking his fingers into the sides of your thong, and sinking to his knees before sliding them over your hips. When they hit the floor you step out of them, kicking them to the side. You feel his hands slide up the front of your legs, circling around to rest at the back of your thighs as a deep hum leaves his chest. 

His lips connect with your hip bone, kissing and sucking at the skin until a deep purple mark is left behind. You can feel yourself practically dripping with want for him, and you know if you two don’t get into the shower quickly, he will be your undoing without even properly touching you. 

He stands, grabbing your hand and pulling you into his large stone tiled shower, a freestanding tub just to the side. The second the water hits your skin you let out an audible groan, the goosebumps quickly disappearing. 

“Yeah? Not too hot?” he asks, pulling you under the spray. 

“Not hot enough…” you quip, raising an eyebrow. 

“Any hotter and we’ll descend into hell, babe.” he laughs, twisting the handle a bit further. 

As he steps under the spray to wet his hair you take the time to look at him. The subtle contours of his body, the way his muscles ripple as he moves, the stretch of his tattoo as he rakes his hands through his curls. Your eyes flick to his groin, taking in the sheer size of him, and of course you’re caught in the act. 

“S’not polite to stare…” he smirks. “You wanna hand me that body wash right there?” he asks, nodding his head to a shelf of products. You grab the amber colored bottle, ready to hand it to him but instead squirting the masculine smelling shower gel into your own palm. 

You rub it between both of your hands before pressing them both to his abs, starting to slide the soapy bubbles across his skin. “This okay?” you ask, locking eyes with him. 

“Fuck yeah, baby.” 

You continue sliding your hands around his body, traveling up and around his broad shoulders before sliding back down his slender frame. He presses his tongue into his cheek every time your hands slide a little further down, and after a few teasing attempts you let your hand circle around his fully hardened cock. 

He swallows heavily as you slide your soapy fist up and down his shaft, your eyes never leaving his. 

“Yeah baby, just like that, feels so good. C’mere…” he pleads, pulling your face to his and pressing his lips to yours. His tongue swipes against your lips before pressing into your mouth, your tongues playing a game of cat and mouse as your hand continues to work him. He groans as he pulls away from you, letting the water wash over him and rinse away the suds. You press a kiss to his chest, sucking the skin into your teeth to leave a mark of your own, but he stops you, pulling you away with a smirk. 

“No, no, no…Can’t this time, gotta wear a sheer shirt in three days. Gonna have to mark somewhere you can’t see.”  he says, tilting your chin up with his thumb. 

You purse your lips together before raising a brow. You sink down to your knees, feeling him brush your wet hair away from your face. You grip his cock in your fist once again as he leans against the cold tile behind him, his hand coming to rest in your hair. 

You lean forward, pressing a wet kiss to the tip of his dick, locking eyes with him before letting him slide past your lips and into your mouth. His jaw clenches as you stroke him, letting your tongue slide up and down the underside of his cock as the water pours down around the two of you. You slide your hand up his thigh, cupping his balls in your free hand as you take him as far down as you can. You swallow around him, and his hips jerk forward, a groan leaving his chest. 

You blink up at him, and seeing that he’s enjoying this is making you all the more aroused. His eyes flutter closed and you whine around him, causing his eyes to fly back open. 

“Oh, you want me to watch you, baby?” he asks, his hand gripping into your wet hair. You blink at him as the wet sounds of your mouth echo in the large shower. 

He clicks his tongue, “Of course you want me to watch you. I saw you on the stage tonight…Everyone fawning over you. Feels good doesn’t it, sweetheart? Having everyone’s eyes on you? It’s addicting huh, baby?” he pauses, jerking his hips forward, earning him a gag from your throat. “Fuck… It gets better you know… Bigger crowds, more people, more pressure. People fucking dying to meet you everywhere you go. My eyes are on you now baby. You’ve got my full attention.”

He fucks into your mouth again, a grunt leaving his chest as his words falter. Water is dripping from the ends of his hair down onto your face as his eyes stay locked on yours. “You looked so fuckin’ hot on the stage tonight, but you’re so goddamn pretty right here just for me.”

He slides his hand from your hair and cups your jaw, letting his thumb and fingers press into the hollows of your cheeks. You’re positive he can feel his cock sliding against his fingers as he moves in your mouth, and you feel like you might cum from this alone. 

“Fuck…” he groans, pulling himself from your mouth and quickly grabbing your hand to pull you up from your sore knees. 

“But I wanted–”

“Don’t worry baby, you’re gonna get exactly what you want…” he says, pulling you under the spray to warm you body for just seconds before spinning you around to face away from him. He pulls you tightly to his chest, his hard cock resting just beneath your ass. His right hand slides around to your front, his fingers sliding between your folds, feeling the wetness collected there. 

“You sweet little thing, you like sucking my cock?” he asks, swirling two fingers over your clit. “Answer me.” he says, before sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You jump at the contact and you feel a rush of wetness sweep over you. 

“Yes…” you breathe, unable to form a coherent sentence. You want him to do it again. You want it harder. 

“You did so good, might let you do it again…” he says, sliding his middle finger inside of you. 

“Oh goddamn, you’re so tight…” he groans, adding another finger as his palm works over top of your clit. 

“Danny…” you breathe, feeling your nerves come alive. 

“Yeah? You want more?” he asks, your heavy breathing echoing in the shower. 

“Bite me… Again…” you beg, “Please…”

“Oh, so sweet with your tight pussy and your manners.” he taunts.

His lips brush against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, pressing a hot, open mouthed kiss to the skin, letting his tongue swipe over it before sinking his teeth into you again. 

“Oh, fuck…” you cry out, clenching around his fingers as his tongue laps against the fresh bite mark. 

“Yeah? You like that? Want me to mark you all up, claim you as mine?” he asks, “Your pussy says yes, but what does that sweet mouth say?”

“Again…” you beg.

A hum leaves his chest, “Step forward, put your hands on the edge of the tub for me, gorgeous.” he says, pulling his fingers from you, and smacking your ass with his wet hand. 

You grip your hands into the white porcelain, feeling him step up behind you, admiring the red handprint he left behind seconds ago. You feel his hands grip into your ass, rubbing over the round flesh before sinking to his knees behind you. You feel his breath hot against your core, a shiver of anticipation settling deep within your bones. 

His hands grip into the meat of your thighs before his mouth connects with your core, his hot tongue lapping at your entrance. The sounds echoing off the walls are lewd, but the euphoria washing over your body is all consuming. His tongue flicks over your clit and you find yourself arching your back to grant him easier access. His hand travels up the inside of your thigh, his thumb finding your clit and flicking across it as his tongue toys with your opening. You groan into the empty tub below you, your knees growing weaker with every movement of his tongue. 

“Danny…” you plead, knowing your orgasm is approaching. 

The wet sounds of his tongue on your pussy are growing louder, and with a particularly loud suck you find yourself screaming his name. He hums against you as your legs start to shake, feeling his lips pull away from you and move to the inside of your thigh, he presses a kiss to the sensitive skin, before again sinking his teeth into you. 

Lighting strikes through your body, and you know your release is within reach. He runs his tongue up the inside of your thigh, pressing a kiss to the tender bite before returning his mouth to your core. 

“Danny…Danny please… please…” you beg.

You feel him smile against you, “You sound like my fans, baby…You don’t have to beg…” he pauses, sucking your clit into his mouth.

He brings both of his hands to your ass, squeezing the skin as he lets his teeth gently graze your clit, sending you straight over the edge. A string of indiscernible curses leave your mouth, strung together beautifully with his name woven inbetween. 

He holds you against the tub, not letting your body crash to the ground as it so badly wants to do. He works you through your release, his tongue slowing as he feels you start to come down. 

“Guess I know how it feels to be on the receiving end of a rockstar cumming on your face…” he jokes, running his nose up your spine as he stands behind you. 

You huff out a laugh, still trying to catch your breath. “Yeah?” you pause, “And which end do you prefer…”

“This one.” he says, delivering a harsh smack to your ass cheek. You yelp in surprise, and feel another rush of wetness to your core. 

He kisses your shoulder again, breathing in deeply as he fists his cock behind you. “Wanna fuck you, baby…”

“Last chance for that NDA…” you joke, quickly feeling him press you back down onto the ledge of the bathtub, the head of his cock brushing at your entrance. He presses into you, sliding in quickly from the wetness accumulated. 

Your once playful demeanor has rapidly changed gears at the fullness you feel inside you. You tighten around him as you feel his groin pressed to your ass, the coarse pubic hair at his base brushing against your opening. 

His hand rests on your shoulder as you feel him start to pull out just long enough to slam back into you. 

“Oh, fuck…” he breathes, the tightness of your pussy suddenly a little too much for him. He slides his hand down your back, both hands now gripping into your hips as he moves in and out of you, setting a fairly quick pace. 

Your tits bounce against your chest as your hands grip into the tub, whines floating from your lips as his cock crashes into your cervix. You gasp each time, and you think that's what's spurring him on, but by this point he knows that you may possess a few masochistic tendencies.

“Goddamn you’re so gorgeous, perfect fuckin’ body, perfect tight pussy…” he grunts, the hot water still streaming down over the two of you. 

“Tell me what you want.” he demands, “Want you to cum on my cock.”

“Harder. More…” you plead, the sound of your wet bodies slapping together, inching you both closer. 

He leans over you, his hands sliding up your back to rest on your arms. You feel his lips trail up your spine, kissing into the soft skin at the juncture of your neck. “Yeah, you want more?” he growls against you, biting into your skin harder than he has. 

You feel his perfect teeth sink into you, the harsh sting sizzling through you like fire. He groans into your neck with his lips still attached to you and you feel a rush of warmth trickle down your skin. A drop of crimson red blood drips onto the tile below you, quickly washing down the drain.  

A whine leaves your chest, the pressure in your groin building as his tongue laps over the broken skin, hot and wet. His hips snap into you a little harder and a little tighter, and it’s evident to you that maybe he has a few kinks of his own. 

You feel a rivulet of blood trickling down your back, his hand coming up to spread it across your wet skin for only him to see, that is until his hand grips into the white porcelain next to yours. His hand is tinted red, and as he pulls it away to grip back into your hips, it’s a smear of bloody fingerprints that's left behind.

“Fuck…I’m– Hold on to the tub, don’t let go.” he says, spreading his stance a little wider behind you, but bringing one foot up to the edge of the tub for leverage. He drives his hips into you harder, a groan leaving his chest with each pointed thrust. “Baby…” you whine, only thoughts of him floating through your mind. 

“Yeah…Come on…” he grunts, his hair dripping onto your back. 

“I’m–”

“Yeah, give it to me. Cum for me so fuckin’ sweet and pretty, god I love it…” he says through gritted teeth. 

“Danny–” you warn, fluttering against him. 

“Yeah right, there, oh fuck…” he whines, as you clench around him.

A loud cry leaves your mouth, his cock still working against your g-spot as you fall apart around him. You feel like you're floating around the room in a thousand pieces, falling back down perfectly into place as he moves inside of you. 

“Danny…” you breathe. 

“So fuckin’ beautiful, gonna cum, baby… You want that? You want my cum?” he asks, his hips starting to stutter.

“Please, yes… My mouth… In my mouth, I want you…” you plead. 

“In your mouth…Fuck…” he says, still pumping into you. “I want your pussy so fucking bad baby, but god you’re so pretty with my cock in your mouth.” he pauses, “Fuck it, get on your knees.” he says, pulling out of you, and continuing to rapidly stroke his glistening, wet cock. 

You drop to your knees again, ready to take what you were promised earlier. You pull him into your mouth, your eyes rolling back in your head as you fill your throat full of him. 

“Mother fucker…” he groans, snapping his hips into you. His hand reaches down palming at your tits, rolling your nipple between his fingers. You whine against his cock, and that pushes him to his finish. He swiftly pulls himself from your mouth, pumping his fist over his cock as you peer up at him with your mouth open, and your tongue presented to him. 

“You want my cum, fuck… Take it… Fuckin’ take it.” he grunts, his hot release shooting into your mouth, landing on your tongue. It drips from your lips, rolling down your chin in bitter salty streams, and as he stares at you with a heaving chest you know that both of you need more of each other. Your mouth is full, his hot cum dripping down your chest as he releases his cock from his hand. 

He cups your chin, rubbing his thumb over your cheek with a smirk, before letting it drift into your open mouth, nodding at you to close your lips around it. You close your swollen lips and swallow down his cum with a flutter of your eye lids. It's warm as it slides down your throat, the taste of him unique, causing you to hum. Your tongue toys with his thumb and he pulls it from your lips with a pop. 

He drags his thumb up your throat and over your chin, collecting the drip that had fallen, before returning his thumb to your lips, and smearing it across the puffy pink skin. You lick your lips in response, and you watch as he crouches down in front of you, meeting you at eye level. 

He presses his lips to yours, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth, tasting the remnant of himself on your skin. His hand settles on the side of your neck, pulling you in a little closer and deepening the kiss before pulling away. 

He stares at you with a satisfied smile, and you’re sure you’re looking just as blissed out as he is. 

“Stay here, tonight.” he breathes, rubbing his thumb over your throat. 

“You sure?” you ask, placing your hand on his wrist. 

“I’ll wash your hair and we can order a pizza?” he smiles, trying to sweeten the deal, as if you’ll say no. 

“With pineapple? Or is that a deal breaker…” you counter. 

He smiles his perfect smile and kisses your forehead, helping you stand and escorting you back to the streaming hot water. 

—

After an ironic heart shaped pizza, with pineapple, a glass of red wine and a few laughs, you find yourself being ushered back upstairs with the swat of his hand. He leads you into his bedroom before disappearing back into his bathroom, his queen size bed perfectly made with fluffy beige sheets and feather pillows, and you want nothing more than to melt into them. He was kind enough to lend you a t-shirt and a pair of sweats after your shower, but as you make your way towards the bed you find yourself wanting to slip out of the clothes all together. You kick off the sweats and are left in just his t-shirt and a pair of his boxers.

He emerges from the bathroom, his curls disheveled around his face without any product to keep them together. “I uh, I don’t know if you want this… I dug around in my cabinet and found this from the last time I went to the dentist, but it’s new, and I am honestly shocked I found it, but it’s all yours if you want it.” he stammers, offering you a toothbrush. 

You take it from his hands, pulling it from the cardboard packaging as you follow him into the bathroom. He places himself in front of the sink, grabbing his black electric toothbrush, and the tube of toothpaste. He wets his toothbrush, and unscrews the lid, ready to squirt the paste onto his brush, but stopping and turning to you first. You hold out the toothbrush and let him squeeze a line of toothpaste onto the bristles, giving him a smile before he turns back to his own. 

You stare at yourself in the mirror as you brush your teeth, reading the letters ‘CME’ on the gray t-shirt, and smiling because you’ve always wanted to go there. You catch his eyes in the mirror, watching him brush his own teeth, wiggling his eyebrows at you as he stands in just his black sweatpants. Your eyes flick down to the V of his waist and you find yourself brushing a little harder as you recall the events of the evening. 

He smiles around his foamy toothbrush, likely having the same thoughts, before turning the water on to spit into the sink. You do the same, rinsing your mouth with water and placing the brush on the counter.

“Do you want me to toss this in the morning or…” you ask. 

“Oh, no, you can uh… You can just use it next time I guess. I can keep it here or something.”

“What makes you think there’ll be a next time?” you snark, raising your eyebrows in challenge. Your eyes suddenly catch sight of the bloody handprint left on his pristine white tub, and your breath catches in your throat. 

“Should I call my lawyer back? I already had him working on that NDA.” he says through a laugh, turning off the bathroom light and smacking your ass as you cross the threshold into his bedroom. 

He pulls down the comforter, letting you slide into the ice cold sheets before sliding in after you. You shiver a little, but not for long. He snakes his arm beneath you, wrapping it around your shoulder, and pulling you to lay half way on top of him. He twists his legs with yours, and you can feel his semi hard dick hiding just beneath his sweats. You raise an eyebrow at him, and he laughs. 

“I’m not sorry, who knew you would be so fucking cute brushing your teeth in my t-shirt?” You roll your eyes and lay your head down, the amber glow of his lamp illuminating the room.

“I mean it, though. I’d like to do this again.” His voice is almost boyish as he looks over at you from his side of the bed. You grin, nodding in agreement as your heavy eyelids make your blinks long and slow.

He grabs his phone from the nightstand, and turns down the brightness. As he unlocks his phone you see the background is a photo of his mom, his sister, and himself, on a beach somewhere. 

“They don’t live here…” you ask, but it’s not a question. You already know the answer.

“No.” he answers, his voice solemn. “They’re in Michigan.”

“You miss them.”

“Yeah, but I’ll see them soon. I think they’re gonna come down for a show. Just been too long this time. Gonna take my dad golfing, I think.” he says, opening his texts, and though you're trying not to look, you can’t help but notice that his inbox that you assumed would be full of unsaved numbers and girls names, isn’t. In fact there’s hardly any. 

He clicks on an unread message, laughing as he reads it. 

Jake

7:05pm: You still coming over later?

Jake

8:11pm: You prick how the fuck do you have plans, we aren’t even supposed to be here

Jake

9:17pm: Nevermind 😎

“How many friends did you ditch tonight?” you laugh. 

“Ehhhh, listen… Jake– He– I would have been stuck there until 3 in the morning if I went, I much prefer how my night turned out.” he giggles, sending back a skull emoji.

He opens the next thread and sighs, clearing his throat and rubbing his fist into his eye as he responds. 

Sista ✨

9:34pm: Happy Valentine’s Day, miss you! Love you & see you soon!

Danny

1:04am: Happy Valentine’s day, love you 💐

You feel your heart warm a little at the message, and you realize that maybe these girls that warned you, really didn’t know him like they thought they did. Sure he has a bit of an ego, maybe he’s a little cocky, but you kinda like it. He gives you a run for your money, and apart from the insanely hot sex earlier, he’s been a perfect gentleman. Kinda the best of both worlds if you think about it.

He locks his phone and tosses it on his nightstand, rolling over to his side and pulling you into his chest. You can smell the body wash you washed him with earlier still lingering on his skin, and as you breathe in the smell of him, and feel the warmth of his body against yours, he wraps his arms around you kissing your shoulder atop the deep red mark that his perfect teeth left. 

—

When the morning comes, you’re woken up by the natural light in Danny’s bedroom and a dull throbbing in your head. He’s rolled over, facing away from you as he sleeps peacefully on his clean, white sheets. 

Reaching for your phone, you suppress a groan at the soreness that radiates through your body. It's late morning and you have a few texts waiting for you already. The first is from your best friend, who you’re assuming went home with the guy she met. There’s an attachment and from the preview you see it’s a film strip, so you assume it’s a sneak preview of the photos she took of you at the show.

When you open the picture, you quickly realize you’re wrong. There are a few strips laid on the table, the first of which are a few provocative photos of her in a bralette and then wrapped in a scarf of some sort. The strip underneath has pictures of people you don’t recognize at first, but as you zoom in on the third frame, you see… Danny? Then, a text comes through asking if he was the guy you were hanging around with the night before.

Danny starts to stir in bed next to you, stretching and rolling over. He seems relieved when he lays eyes on you and sees you’re still there. You roll a little closer to him on your side, holding up the zoomed-in photo.

“Is this you?”

He lifts his head a little, craning his neck and squinting his eyes to get a better look. 

“Uh, yeah. Where’d you get that?” His voice is hoarse and sleepy, and you wonder if he’s feeling as rough as you are after the night you shared. You can’t help but smile as you look harder at the photo.

“I think my best friend spent the night with yours?” you say, pinching the screen and zooming out. There isn’t anything too lewd on the photos she sent you, but when he sees them, he puts the pieces together too.

“Oh, shit. How’d that happen?” He asks, putting his arm behind his head and laying back. You see the underside of his tattoo that wraps all the way around his bicep, your eyes drawn to the muscles you can see shifting under his skin.

“She was the photographer last night. In more ways than one, I guess.” you snicker, looking at the frames again. 

“If I would have known it was like that, I’d have taken some photos of my own…” he says, his morning voice making your stomach flip. He sees the way color rushes to your cheeks and he grins, rolling on top of you and sliding his hands up under the t-shirt you’re borrowing. You hum as he peppers your face with kisses, pulling the duvet over the two of you, in no rush to get your day started. 

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[one-time-i-dreamt]

I was in the school band for some reason, and was forced to play both tuba and a bass drum, and carry them around constantly. I woke up and slammed my head into the wall because it was closer than I thought.

[quizzicalwriter]

can you please do a johnny cade x fem!reader smut where they decide to use toys (and there's a lot of squ!rt!ng involved?) ty!

Sunny

Pairing: Johnny Cade x Fem!Reader

Summary: A searing heat wave leaves Johnny with new ideas on how to beat the heat.

Warnings: Smut. MDNI. Temperature-play, fingering, oral, all that good stuff.

A/N: Thank you for the request! (Also I know it’s not technically toys, but I figured this would work! If you want a full-on toy fic with Johnny just shoot me an ask and I’ll write it!)

Word Count: 3.4k

“It’s 12:05, this is Lee Bayley on Tulsa’s KAKC with the sounds of sunshine!”

Sunshine your ass, whatever hung heavy in the midday sky felt more like a blazing inferno rather than the dainty sun you’d painted in the corner of your childhood drawings. You couldn’t bring yourself to be too peeved at the radio host, the man was likely indoors under heavy air conditioning.

At least he was a damn good DJ, nobody else seemed to be playing a mix of Santana and Van Morrison, not so early in the day anyhow. The hum of bass and methodical drums filled your one-bedroom apartment, the rare wind gust blowing your window blinds against the siding of your wall.

Johnny had hardly given you a moment to beg for a cold shower together before he’d pressed a kiss to your temple that morning, whispering words you didn’t quite catch - all you’d truly caught in your overly hot and tired state that morning had been his promise of something cold when he got back.

You rolled yourself off the muggy bed, kicking your feet in frustration as the top sheet tangled itself around your ankle, as if silently begging you not to leave it under the prying eye of the sun. You were in no mood, so with a grunt you rolled onto the floor, body emitting a soft thud as you came in contact with the shag carpet below.

In nothing but your underwear and an old beaten shirt of Johnny’s you trudged your way into the kitchen, opening up all the windows on your way through the apartment. Your radio softly hummed from your bedroom, some song you didn’t entirely recognize, but found yourself swaying your hips to nonetheless as you bent over to seek something cool in your fridge.

Surprise, surprise. There was nothing. Unless you counted the half-eaten clementine on the right side of the fridge, sitting all pitiful against a half-gallon of milk. As anyone would in their right mind when faced with overbearing summer heat, you closed your refrigerator and opened your freezer, crossing your arms against the frigid plastic before resting your cheek against your propped arms.

The freezer motor buzzed to life, adding to the already abundant noise of the city below pouring through your open windows. You continued humming to the faraway music sounding from your bedroom, losing yourself in the abundance of cool air as you shut your eyes. You’d likely have fallen asleep standing up if it hadn’t been for the slam of the front door, followed by a sing-song whistle, one you knew by heart.

“In here!” You called, not daring to move from your self-created frozen heaven.

“Freezing yourself?” Johnny asked through a gentle laugh, placing down two armfuls of paper bags. You only hummed in reply, tilting your head to the other side to give him a brief smile, one he returned in earnest despite the subtle redness against his cheeks.

“Got you somethin’.” He murmured, tone playful as he moved over to you. Your eyebrows lifted in intrigue, curiosity getting the better of you as you moved from the freezer, the door slamming shut behind you as you leaned against the kitchen counter.

“And what’s that?” You asked with a smile.

“A treat.” He responded, rifling through the paper bags before handing you a cup that he’d so diligently wrapped in another paper bag. “Told you I’d get you somethin’ this mornin’, treat to beat the heat - or whatever the hell they say on those commercials.”

You would’ve groaned at his poor imitation of the commercial that plagued your television set, but you couldn’t focus on anything other than the ice-cold treat in your grasp. With a giddy laugh, you flipped the top off, an audible, and admittedly dramatic moan leaving you as you spooned a hefty amount of the Icee into your mouth.

“Good right?” He asked, hand gently pushing your hip from the drawer behind you to fetch himself a spoon, digging in alongside you as you nodded. Icee’s were certainly a good way to cool your body down, and you definitely didn’t mind watching as Johnny moved beside you, tilting his head back in cold-induced euphoria.

“Very good.” You murmured around your plastic spoon, eyes watching him intently as he scooped another spoonful of the slushy into his mouth. Maybe it was the heat, maybe it was the way his face looked when flushed - either way, you were burning up and the Icee was doing little to quell the heat pooling in your stomach.

Oblivious to your plight, Johnny’s eyebrows lifted, metal spoon still in his mouth as he turned around to free a hefty bag of ice from one of the paper bags. You hummed in thanks around your spoon, earning you a quick nod as he pushed the bag toward the back corner of the freezer.

You placed the half-empty cup down behind you, hands slick and wet with condensation. You took your chance, slinking yourself behind Johnny, giving him no time to duck away before reaching your hands up and underneath his shirt, splaying your cold hands against his warm muscles.

“Jesus-“ He cried out, back arching away from your hands as he reached behind himself, pained words turning into pleading laughter as he turned himself around. “Quit it!”

He had more than enough strength to wrestle your arms snug against himself, ensuring you wouldn’t be able to torture him with your overly cold fingertips. But he loved the way your smile would crinkle the skin beside your eyes, how your nose would scrunch. It was precious to him, worth the goosebumps that raced across his skin, the droplets of cool water that raced down to the hem of his jeans - all of it.

In a bid to have you more pliant, he grabbed your forearms, pulling them around himself. You continued laughing, head falling back as you smiled up at him through your laughter-induced tears. He returned your smile, eyes focused on yours as you steadied your breaths. His hands dropped from your arms, instead moving to cup your jaw as he leaned down to press his lips to yours.

The taste of artificial cherry soared across your tastebuds, along with a sudden chill at the coldness of his tongue. You lifted your arms, draping them around his neck as your tongue moved with his, goosebumps spreading up your forearms at both the fading chill of his tongue paired with the burning lust settling heavily in your lower stomach.

His hands moved from your jaw, tracing along the curve of your waist before resting against the swell of your ass. He gave the plush flesh a harsh squeeze, pulling a surprised squeal from you, one that made him smile into your kiss before resuming his movements.

The bedroom wasn’t far away, but he had no patience, not when you were standing half-dressed in front of him - in his shirt, no less. His fingers toyed with the hem of your underwear, brushing his fingertips along your mound as he nipped at your bottom lip.

“Couch?” He asked, pulling away a fraction to gauge your reaction. When you nodded he backed away, watching with an amused smile as you ran toward the living room. Rather than follow behind you, he turned toward the freezer.

You sunk into the warm fabric of your couch, shallow breaths leaving you in droves as anticipation wore you thin, causing you to soak the thin fabric of your underwear. He reappeared with a glass filled to the brim with ice, condensation already fogging the bottom where his hand rested.

“Gotta cool you down, right?”

You nodded as he moved to sit beside you, placing the glass down on the adjacent coffee table. He then dipped his fingers into the glass, curling the digits around two cubes of ice. Two fingers kept one held firmly against his palm as he held the other between his thumb and index finger, maneuvering himself between your legs, free hand helping your legs to drape over his lap.

“Trust me?” He asked as cool water dropped onto your bare thigh from his palm. You nodded, breath catching in your throat at the plethora of ideas that soared through your mind. He caught your excitement with a smile, his free hand moving to cup the underside of your jaw, tilting your head back to meet his gaze.

“Open your mouth.” He ordered, words careening on the edge of inaudible as he trailed an ice cube around the fullness of your bottom lip. You obeyed, eyes fluttering as you parted your lips. He smiled down at you, finding himself proud of how quickly you listened to him. “Good girl.”

You tilted your head back, allowing him to push the ice farther into your mouth, watching as his eyes focused on how quickly the ice melted against the heat of your tongue.

The sight of your tongue twitching underneath the ice, cold water dripping from the corner of your lips, Johnny couldn’t help himself as he leaned down to connect your lips to his. His hand grasped your jaw, fingers threading through your hair as his tongue met yours.

The steady drip of cool water against your waist pulled you away, goosebumps chasing the droplets in earnest. Johnny murmured an apology against your lips, hardly backing away an inch before his hand smoothed underneath your shirt, lifting the fabric up and over your head.

He took the half-melted ice cube between his fingers, placing it in his mouth as he situated himself between your thighs. He looked up at you through his eyelashes, ice perched between his lips. You could only watch as he lowered himself, bitter cold making contact with the hollow of your stomach. He trailed his lips downward, goosebumps rising along your skin. Cool droplets of water headed down the side of your stomach, leaving you involuntarily arching from the couch as his hands kept your hips steady.

“Johnny-“ You whined, feeling your arousal coat the thin fabric of your underwear. He ignored your plea, instead hooking his fingers into the hem of your underwear, slowly pulling them down in tandem with his movements. You could feel him inching closer to your aching cunt, his right hand pushing your thighs apart, pinning your knee to the backrest of the couch.

You’d expected him to give in, to give you the pleasure you’d so desperately sought after. Instead, he sunk lower onto the couch, trailing the ice onto your inner thighs. You shivered, soft moans falling from you as droplets of water glided down to your cunt. Every so often his gaze would meet yours, the desperation hidden beneath his eyes becoming more ravenous with each passing second.

He propped himself up on his arm, plucking the ice from between his lips. It dripped down his forearm, accidentally causing water to smear against your inner thighs. In a makeshift apology for having teased you for so long he leaned down, right hand held away from your body as he pressed featherlight kisses against your damp inner thighs. You hadn’t the mind to be frustrated, only wanting his lips, fingers, or anything he’d give you.

“Been so patient.” He murmured after placing another open-mouthed kiss on your inner thigh. “So proud of you.”

Before you could conjure a response he shifted between your legs, brushing the edge of the ice against your clit. You gasped, hips bucking down against the couch. His free hand moved back to your hip, holding you steady as he continued swirling the ice against your aching clit. You were left writhing under his hold, mind muddled by the pleasure and lack of release.

In an act of mercy, he tossed the ice to the floor, hands splaying against the underside of your thighs, fingertips freezing against your skin. You rested into his hold, shifting your hips to bring yourself closer to him. He responded to the movement with a smile and a kiss to your thigh, trailing his lips downward until he reached your cunt. The heat from his lips burned, the shift in temperature drastic enough for your hips to buck up into his touch.

His tongue delved between your folds, your arousal coating his tastebuds, the taste pulling a groan from deep within his chest as he swirled his tongue around your clit. The feeling of his tongue against you paired with the obscene sounds of him sucking your clit into his mouth left you whining, hardly able to manage a measly breath as he flicked his tongue against your clit.

Your fingers threaded through his thick hair, the placement of your hands giving you enough balance against the couch cushions to rut up against his tongue. He never backed away, letting you use his mouth as he tried his damndest to keep up with the desperation-fueled bucks of your hips. His middle and ring fingers spread your folds, allowing him to lick a stripe up your cunt before he focused his attention back on your clit, swirling his tongue around it as he pushed his fingers into your cunt, curling them upward to brush against your g-spot.

“Fu-uck.” Was all you managed at the combination, word breathless as he thrusted his fingers into you, syncing his movements with his tongue. Your hips rocked down against the digits, pushing them deeper into your cunt, the depth causing your cunt to squeeze around his fingers. He groaned at the feeling, the vibration of his voice centered around your clit. You could feel your lower stomach tensing, thighs trembling in his hold as he lapped at your cunt.

He could feel your orgasm building before you’d even registered it, too blinded by the onslaught of pleasure to recognize your cunt fluttering around his fingers, how your breaths had become short gasps of his name, your grasp on his hair tightening to an almost painful degree. His free hand moved to your lower stomach, pressing down against the plush skin as he continued pumping his fingers into you, massaging that spot within you that left you trembling.

“C’mon, baby,” he whispered, begging you to come undone against his tongue and around his fingers. You gave him his wish with a broken cry of his name, back arching from the cushion of the couch, your hips jerking as he continued his ministrations. His pace sped up, the pleasure almost brutal as he helped you through your orgasm. You could feel your juices dripping down the cusp of your ass, soaking the fabric beneath you.

His lips and chin glistened underneath the overhead light, the sight making you flush as he wiped his skin dry with the hem of his shirt, pulling the fabric off of himself afterward. You leaned up, thighs shaking with the movement as your hands found the front of his jeans. He looked down at you, lips parted as his breaths came in shuddering gasps. You kept his gaze as you unzipped his jeans, fingers sliding against the worn denim. You could feel his cock straining against the material, his chest heaving with each touch of your fingers against his shaft, no matter how featherlight.

You slunk your hand into the fly of his jeans, flattening your palm against the shaft of his cock, fingertips settling at the base as you leaned up onto your knees, pressing your lips to his in a searing kiss as you swallowed the moans that left him at the feeling of your hand slowly moving along his aching cock. You’d hardly been able to wrap your fingers around him before he’d pushed you back onto the couch, right hand moving to cup the underside of your thigh, hiking it up to rest against his lower back.

“Please-“ You whined against his lips, hands eagerly pushing his jeans down his hips.

He leaned down onto his left arm, propping himself up as he wrapped his hand around his cock, pumping himself languidly as he swiped his tip along your soaked folds, finding himself unable to stop the groan that reverberated in his chest at the warmth of your cunt against him.

Your eyes met his in a silent plea for him to fuck you, to extinguish the fire burning heavy in your lower stomach, the very feeling that left you dripping, clenching around nothing as he teased you with the tip of his cock.

“Johnny-“ You panted impatiently.

With a roll of his hips, he bottomed out inside of you, stretching you out blissfully. The tip of his cock brushed against your cervix, causing your hips to twitch as you grew accustomed to his size. You two fucked often, yet every time you had to give yourself a moment to readjust to his size, not that he minded - if anything he seemed to love the sight of you squirming beneath him, lips parted as you took in shaken gasps while your cunt squeezed around him.

“Alright?” He asked as he pressed a kiss to your forehead, leaning back to level his eye-line with yours. You nodded, giving him the reassurance he needed to pull his hips back, dragging his cock out of you before pushing back in, the lewd sound of your cum coating his shaft filling the shared silence between you.

Your legs tightened around his hips, the heels of your feet digging into his lower back, pushing him deeper into you in tandem with each thrust of his hips. Your eyes stayed locked with his, pupils blown, irises sharing every emotion you couldn’t put to words while overcome with such intense pleasure.

His pace was slow, methodical, ensuring he brushed against each spot inside of you that left you rolling your hips with his, wordlessly begging for more. With a kiss to your temple, he slunk his hand down between your damp bodies, circling his middle and ring finger around your clit.

A gasp rasped from your lungs as your head fell back against the cushion of the couch, the combination of his cock and fingers leaving you a mess of whimpers and heavy breaths. He watched you, face flushed a reddish hue from both the heat and the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock each time he bottomed out inside of you.

You could feel your juices dripping down the cusp of your ass, warm and wet, stark in comparison to the remnants of water that lingered against your chest and stomach. His fingers picked up in their pace, the change pulling a drawn-out moan from you as your eyes squeezed shut, feeling your lower stomach tense.

“Johnny-“ You whined, words trembling.

“I know.” He replied, closing the distance between you with a chaste kiss to your lips before he trailed his lips down to your jaw. His cock twitched as his hips rocked forward, pace hastening as he felt your cunt fluttering around him. “I know, baby.”

With a sharp cry of his name, you were cumming around his cock. He trailed open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your throat, each one interrupted by a choked-back grunt as he fucked you through your orgasm.

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him down against you as he rutted into you, tiny breaths and whines of your name tumbling past his lips. He tried to muffle the noises by burying his face in the crook of your neck, but you heard them all the same, each noise causing your cunt to squeeze around him.

“Fuck, I-“ He breathed, eyebrows screwed together as he pushed himself up onto his left arm. He abruptly pulled out of you, the feeling of being empty leaving you whimpering as he pumped himself through his orgasm, spilling himself onto your lower stomach with a grunt of your name.

He collapsed onto you, placing light kisses against your throat in between whispered praises, his right hand smoothing up the side of your waist, fingers tracing delicate patterns against your skin as you both caught your breath.

“Definitely didn’t help us cool down.” You laughed out, looking over to him before pressing a kiss to his forehead. He hummed in response, a lazy smile evident on his face, absolutely glowing in post-coital bliss.

“Can always take a shower.” He murmured against your skin, eyes flickering up to meet yours. You knew by his glance that neither of you would be getting clean in that shower, but who were you to turn an opportunity like that down?

“Deal.”

A/N: Did I listen to a radio track just to get a line from an old Tulsa station? Yes, yes I did. It’s a shame radio ain’t as popular as it used to be, and it’s a damn shame rock stations don’t play classic rock half as much as they used to. Anyhow, I hope you all enjoyed this! It ain’t hot outside where I am, but I certainly miss southern summers enough to write about ‘em! Thank you all for the countless love and support you show me and my work, I appreciate you all so much!

[ebongawk]

"Chrissy used to wait until her parents were out of the house and then dance around her bedroom to Corroded Coffin and sing into her hairbrush. It felt like a huge rebellion in her mind at the time." for @storiesofimagination

More than anything else, Chrissy hated being late.

It was unlike her. Even despite her mother drilling the entire family on being punctual all her life, Chrissy knew that being on time would have defined her. A flower planted in a vase could be just as beautiful as one grown in a field, after all. Just not quite as free.

Despite having a doctor's appointment as an excuse, Chrissy still took the stairs up to school two at a time. The excused absence in her hand for her first two periods felt meaningless – just more wasted time she'd have to use, taking it to the front office. She stormed through the hallway, swinging by the front desk before headed to her locker.

And she stopped all at once. Taking two broad steps back to absorb that which had attracted the attention of her peripheral vision.

A crystal tape case had been dropped on the ground. Innocuous enough, she leaned down, picking it up and turning it over in curious hands.

Songs she didn't recognized were scribbled onto the back fold. The front was hand drawn, as well, featuring a creepy, disembodied hand. Like someone had taken macabre liberties with Thing from The Addams Family (a lovely series of which she'd only been allowed to catch episodes at Vicki Rosenbaum's house during weekend sleepovers). A mixtape?

Without thinking about it, Chrissy tucked the case into her backpack. Wondering if she could figure out who it belonged to later, she regained the time she'd lost in her distraction by practically sprinting to class.

Later, after finishing out the rest of the day and walking home – breaking up with Jason, while the first act of liberty she'd taken for herself in some time, was almost met with regret when school let out and she didn't have a ride home – Chrissy found herself in a commodity of an evening.

She was home alone.

Her little brother was off at a friend's house, and her parents had a dinner event for her father's office. Chrissy was in pajamas, taking the stereo out from her closet with every intention of having her own Risky Business moment as she flipped idly through her small collection of contraband tapes her mother could never find out about.

And she stopped.

What about that tape from school?

It'd fallen beneath her pen case in her backpack at school. Chrissy dug it out, taking in the details of the case art she hadn't before allowed herself to see. Blood dripped down one side of the disembodied hand, with scars etched into the flesh. A hand freshly chopped for Frankenstein's monster, the blood still warm enough to flow.

For the first time, Chrissy also recognized a little brand in the corner of the case.

Corroded Coffin, she read. Why does that sound so familiar?

Only one way to find out.

Chrissy popped the tape into the player.

The sudden, grating sound of guitar feedback screeched through the speakers, and Chrissy slammed the stop button with a little cry of surprise. Her chest heaved, heart hammering against her ribs at the sudden noise. Gosh, but that was unexpected. Her own tapes usually started off with a gentle easing into the music. The steady drumroll or techtonic beat building up the artist to launch.

Turning the volume dial down a few dozen notches, Chrissy paused for a moment before leaning back and hitting play.

The wall of sound that hit her was far easier to manage at a softer level. She listened, waiting for recognition to wash over her, but the seconds ticked by with screaming bass and heavy drums, and Chrissy was no closer to recognizing the song. Even the singer, with his deep, gravelly voice, was an unknown.

The volume came up a few notches. Then a few more. And Chrissy found herself falling into the music.

It was different than anything she'd ever listened to before. Deeper, angrier, with grating sounds and heavy lyrics that pulsed a new heart in her chest. It was music that contained all these dark, terrifying emotions she didn't normally allow herself to feel. All the stuff she kept locked away and buried, only to rear up as monsters in her dreams she couldn't escape.

Even the instruments sounded angry. The drums marched and the bass crooned, but the guitar. It kept going off on these long, intricate tangents, accentuating the point of the lyrics by emphasizing the terrible, wonderful passion. The quality wasn't great – a little too echoey, like it hadn't been recorded in a studio – but the songs were beautiful.

Chrissy lost her will to return the tape back to its original owner. Instead, it found a half-permanent home in her Walkman. Pulled only from the anonymity of her headphones during the limited alone time she was awarded at home.

Every time, the songs greeted her with their energetic shouts. The lyrics embraced her like an old friend.

Chrissy learned them all. She screamed them into her hairbrush, falling dramatically to her knees on her mattress as she extended all of her own deep, dark emotions out into the ether of existence. As her Corroded Coffin album took them in, nurturing them and verifying that it was okay for her to have them. That negativity didn't equate bad, only new.

There was a risk, she knew. Her parents could come home early one day. Her mother could discover the tape case, on the rare occasion she accidentally left it at home. The tape would be disposed of, and Chrissy couldn't exactly buy a new one. She'd checked the record store downtown – the grumpy cashier had never even heard of Corroded Coffin.

She almost thought the tape had been dropped through a wormhole. Like there was another, luckier dimension out there where Corroded Coffin was a well-known band, but here, she would be the only person who would ever know their ingenuity and raw brilliance.

The thought was private and insane, but it made her sad. It made her selfish. It made her desperate to prove herself wrong.

And, completely by chance, she was.

Chrissy walked into Benny's the first Saturday of spring break to meet her friends for milkshakes before they made a trip to Star Court to start browsing prom dresses. Chrissy had to steel herself against their gentle, pitying looks when they talked about their own dates, knowing Chrissy had every intention of going stag. Like that was something to be ashamed of. (Going with Jason would've been much more shameful, considering she'd caught him cheating on her during winter break, but that didn't seem to matter in the eyes of her friends.)

As soon as she walked through the doors, though, something extremely familiar caught her eye. Chrissy had to do a double-take, because no way.

It was that same bloody, disembodied hand from her tape. With huge, boldly printed letters advertising Corroded Coffin's Metal Friday Bash! from the night before at some bar called the Hideout.

The night before.

"Oh, nuggets," Chrissy breathed in disbelief. She'd missed it? She'd missed it. Without warning, her eyes suddenly filled with tears, and Chrissy immediately turned and walked back out the door, much to the startled shouts of her friends.

They were real. They were real, and they'd been here, just the night before, and she'd missed it, and now she'd never find them again. She yanked her Walkman off her belt loop, holding it tightly to her chest like it alone could support her weight as she floated blindly through the vast, endless ocean of the parking lot. The salt spraying her eyes and making them tear up, and was it any wonder that she missed the broad-chested boat out in the middle of all that nothing?

"Ugh," she pitched, her voice drowned out by a startled, "Oh shit." Her Walkman went flying from her grip as she fell backward, two strong hands managing to hold her wrists and keep her upright but completely disregarding the flying tape player. She felt the tug of her headphones as they dislodged from the jack, the thing making a loud crack against the pavement upon impact.

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.

"Shit, fuck, sorry, sorry," the person still holding her wrists repeated over and over again above her. "Shit, Cunningham, I–– Fuck, I didn't see you–– Oh, shit, here, lemme get that."

Wrists suddenly released, the blob of black she'd barreled into headfirst suddenly swooped down. Chrissy turned at the same time, body operating separately from brain as she searched the ground for the Walkman that had already been collected.

"It doesn't look––"

"My tape," Chrissy gasped, reaching toward the hands holding her player. The bony wrists becoming her new lifeline. "Is my tape okay?"

"Uh, lemme check––" A pause as the hands holding her Walkman hostage popped the cassette lid open. Chrissy held her breath, anticipating the worst, and the mass of person she hadn't quite acknowledged let out a barking laugh. "Holy shit. Holy shit? Christ, dude, uh. What the fuck?"

It was only then, impossibly, that Chrissy looked up and finally registered who it was she was hanging onto like a buoy.

Eddie. Eddie Munson? Eddie Munson had her tape. Eddie Munson was staring down at her, his eyes twinkling in the mid-morning sunlight, with raised brows and a disbelieving grin stretching his cheeks.

Oh, she thought. When did Eddie Munson get so pretty?

"Cunningham, where the fuck did you get this tape?"

Blinking, Chrissy looked at the tape in his hands. Confused. No one knew who Corroded Coffin was. Why was he questioning her?

"Um, it's mine?" she answered, suddenly, just then, remembering that it wasn't actually hers. That she'd found it. That it likely had not fallen through a wormhole, because the band existed, proven just behind her in the Benny's entryway by a hand-drawn poster for a concert she'd missed.

"Uh, no it's not," Eddie laughed. "It's mine."

What?

What?

"What?" she squeaked out, fingertips tensing against his wrists. She couldn't let go, because if she did, he might take her tape. He might destroy it, or step on it, or kidnap it.

"It's our demo tape," he said again, still grinning. Still in obvious disbelief. "Uh, my band's, I mean. I lost it, like, two months ago. Now how, may I ask, did it end up in the dainty little paws of Hawkins' own Queen, Chrissy Cunningham the First?"

His. Eddie's. His band's? Eddie's band? Eddie was in Corroded Coffin. Why wasn't she more surprised? His tape? His demo tape? What was a demo tape? Was he gonna take her tape?

"Um," she said, still blinking up at him. "I-I found it. At school?"

"No shit?" Eddie laughed. "Well, fuck, Chrissy, that's–– Okay, but wait. Why were you listening to it? Why didn't you, like, throw it away?"

She let out an indignant noise of affront. Her own shock slowly succumbing to an accepting sort of anger.

"'Throw it away'?" she asked. "What? Why would I do that? I love it, Eddie!"

His eyebrows had disappeared behind his fringe, he was so shocked. Shaking his head like he couldn't believe it, though his eyes never left hers. After mouthing a what the fuck to himself, he looked over her shoulder. Seeming to remember where they were.

"Uh. I-I mean. Have you, uh. Have you eaten?"

"What?" Her head reeled with the sudden jump of conversation.

Scratching the back of his neck, Eddie shrugged. "I mean. Obviously you, like, listened to the tape, yeah? And, y'know, you're, like, the first, besides the fuckin' band, to do that. I'd, uh. I'd love to know your thoughts?"

Another shrug, bashful, and Chrissy watched in amazement as a flush crept its way up his neck.

"If you've got some time," he tacked on after a few seconds of silence.

Time. Time to talk about Corroded Coffin. Time to talk about Corroded Coffin, with Corroded Coffin.

"I, um, do," she answered. "I have time."

Oh, nuggets, the grin that split his face was brighter than she had ever seen the sun. It softened his features, displaying dimples as his eyes crinkled with warmth.

Chrissy couldn't help it. She smiled right back.

"Fuck yeah," he responded, snapping the case of her Walkman back in place, tape still stuck inside, and handing it back to her. Never breaking the skin contact they'd somehow maintained this entire time. "Well, uh. After you, then?"

She didn't end up going to Star Court that afternoon.

But she also didn't end up going to prom alone.

(inspo ask)

[blair3writ3s]

And I Can’t Help Myself | Kyle Scheible

Kyle Scheible x F!reader, smut

You and Kyle end up stuck in the same hotel room after a concert, and he tries his best to stay as far away from you as possible. Spoiler, he ends up knuckles deep inside you.

Warnings: confused to lovers. The CLASSIC one bed trope. Cussing, inexperienced reader. Reader calls people “babe” platonically. Kyle speaks French because Timothée does and it’s the hottest thing ever so!! The French is in italics :}

OOC but I don’t care

MDNI

Your extremely rusty, ancient car rumbled down the highway. The steering wheel trembled slightly beneath your hands. Honda Civics, seating exactly five, had almost enough room to fit the band. Almost. You had to make Kyle sit in the trunk.

Luckily, your car was a hatchback, and police officers didn’t have much interest in pulling over a rag-tag car full of high schoolers; blasting Seven Nation Army.

Olive, sitting next to you, shouted the lyrics of the song. Her blonde hair was all mused up from the wind, but it still looked marvelous.

Tony, Miles, and Jake, in the backseat, sang along. Their yelling was completed with air guitar motions and air drumming. With the windows rolled down, it was a madhouse.

Between the loudness of your band; and hair flying everywhere, it was almost enough to take your mind off the show tonight.

Almost.

The car rumbled along, nearing the shabby hotel Olive had booked for us. It was the closest hotel to our venue, and the cheapest too.

Turning down the radio and rolling up the windows, you shouted, your voice laced with excitement, “Guys! We’re almost here. Get your stuff together.”

Olive grinned, exclaiming, “Between your horrible driving and Ky in the back,” Kyle held up his middle finger from the trunk, face blank.

“I thought for sure at least one of us wouldn’t make it.” She laughed, her laughter a bird-like chirping. You swatted at her leather-clad arm playfully, scoffing at her antics.

Glancing in your mirrors, pulling into the parking spot, you locked eyes with Kyle. He had his book in one hand, bass on his lap. Nausea was plastered on his face, likely from the boat-like qualities of the car.

You snickered under your breath.

-

Kyle, face pale and hands sweaty, slammed the trunk shut with a finality that mirrored the nausea etched on his face. Eyeliner was smudged around his eyes, and his eyebrows furrowed into a frown, a sight that would have sent shivers down the spine of any other girl back at home.

Unfortunately, you weren’t too different from them.

“Remind me,” Kyle grumbled, “To never let you drive anywhere ever again.” He said to you, a sarcastic lilt in his voice.

You turned around to face him, slamming your door shut. “Remind me,” I mocked, “Which one of us has an actual drivers license?” You walked over to him, picking your guitar up off the ground, along with your backpack full of essentials.

He cocked an eyebrow at you, shifting his weight from one foot to the next.

You turned towards the back windshield of the car, hip bumping the side of his upper thigh. Combing your hands through your layered hair, and adjusting your tank top, you made eye contact with him in the mirror.

“At least I can drive, babe.” You commented, ignoring the prickle of fondness that ran down your spine.

“Sure, chérie,” Kyle said, lowering his voice to match the slight grin playing on his lips.

He promptly turned away, ruffling your hair before he walked towards the hotel, following your band mates inside. Your eyes, despite your best judgement, followed his figure. He was stupidly hot, a kind of hotness that a guy like him shouldn’t get to have.

Not that you would ever, not in a million years, tell him that.

-

“ONE ROOM?? I BOOKED THREE!” Olive screeched, an angry redness was creeping up her neck. She glared at the receptionist, “How do you expect 6 people to cram into one room!?”

The receptionist looked blankly at her, glancing at the lot of us. “I don’t know. But I can assure you that your file only has one room under it.” She clicked her tongue “you’ll have to make do.”

Olive clenched her jaw, eye twitching. “LISTEN HERE YOU-“ She raised her voice further, leaning inwards towards the older woman.

“Oli, babe,” You interjected swiftly, grabbing her arm. “Why don’t you go.. take a walk?” Olive’s jaw clenched, shoulders tense as she stomped out of the hotel. She slammed the glass door shut so hard you thought it would shatter. Luckily, it did not.

Pushing through your band mates to the front desk, you smiled in a friendly manner to the clerk. She did not not return your smile.

“Is there any way to book an additional 2 rooms now? We can pay.” You said, putting on your costumer service voice, that you use at your management job.

“Nope.” She said, voice as monotone as ever. “I’m afraid we only have one other free room, and it only has one double bed.” She flicked her eyes back across the group of us, “As opposed to the two separate beds your other room has.” She finished, glancing down to the computer, clicking away.

“We’ll take it! Anything’s better than one room.” Miles quickly interjected, glancing at you pleadingly.

“It’ll cost $100 for one nights stay, and because you’re just getting it now…$50 extra.” The clerk stated, glancing back up at you.

You turned towards Jake, the manager of the band. He swept his dark hair to the side, swiftly giving you the cash for the room.

You passed the money to the woman, and quickly guided the band up to the rooms.

-

“Ok, boys…and Olive,” You said, putting your hands on your maxi-skirt-clad hips. “Oli and I are going to take the room with the single bed, and you guys are going to have to figure out the other room.” You tossed Tony the keys, turning towards the room directly across the hall.

“Really?” Kyle challenged, grabbing your arm before you entered your room. “What are we, children? Why do all four of us have to get packed into that room,” he said, gesturing the boys standing around him, as well as the door to their room “while you and Olive get plenty of space?” He stated, walking towards the other end of the hallway, and towards the other room.

“I vote we split three for three. It’s much more fair.” Kyle declared, crossing his arms. “What do you think, little Miss Guitarist? ” he really knew how to push your buttons, even when you were both feuding over something as fickle as rooming arrangements.

“I dunno, Mister Bassist, maybe I don’t want to share a room with your annoying ass!” You whisper-shouted, pulling Oli inside of the room and slamming the door behind you.

Kyle, from outside your door, yelled “Va te faire foutre, putain de con!”, banged on your door once, then gave up, going into his designated room.

-

“And I thought I had a flare for the dramatic,” Olive teased, setting her outfit for the night out on the bed. “You and Kyle are on a completely different planet. Especially with him yelling his French” She chirped, laughing at the situation.

“I can’t believe I actually won that fight,” You said lightheartedly. “I thought for sure he was going to kick down the door.” I rolled my eyes, turning towards her.

“I know, right? I mean, he still hasn’t given up with the whole dating thing..” Olive said, nudging you playfully.

“Yeah, yeah.” You sighed, setting your bag on the bed. “He’s a player. I’d rather die than give in to that nightmare” You joked, turning back towards her.

Olive sighed, grabbing your hand softly. “I really don’t think he wants to hurt you-“

You swiftly interrupted her “-I’m going to take a quick shower before I start getting ready, ok, babe? I want to look perfect for tonight.”

“Sure,” she sighed, flashing you the classic; ‘I-don’t-agree-but-I’ll-go-along-with-it’, best friend look.

-

Your clothes clung to you uncomfortably, the grime of the day begging to be washed away. Quickly stripping, you set out a towel for yourself and a hair mask. You took your time in the shower, scrubbing, exfoliating, shaving, moisturizing. You were determined to be ready for tonight, who knew how it would go.

The time flew so quick, it surprised you to hear a rhythmic knock on the door, disrupting your trance.

“What’s up?” You called, scrubbing the last of the hair mask out of your hair.

“I’m going to head over to the other room to practice with the boys,” Olive called through the door. “I want to go over vocals one more time with Miles. And I think Tony wants to assemble some of his drum equipment,”

“Ok! I’ll see you in 30.” You called back, excitement flowing through your veins for the approaching show.

You finished the shower, drying off and blow drying your hair. Tonight, you decided, you were going to go all out. Full glam, you suppose.

The room door clicked open, implying Olive’s departure. You heard some mumbling, but it wasn’t outside the ordinary to hear Olive talking to herself. The door promptly clicked shut.

Thinking nothing of it, you finished your makeup and hair, leaving the bathroom in only your bra and underwear from the day to find your outfit for the night.

The bathroom door clicked shut, and you whirled around, startled to find Kyle; sitting on your bed. A small laugh escaped your lips as you saw his flustered expression. His cheeks were flushed a deep crimson, and his hazel eyes stared into yours blankly.

He mumbled “Putain de chaud”, eyes darting away from yours. The bass that he had previously been strumming was left limp in his lap.

“What gibberish are you grumbling now?” You complained, Turing your back on him. Quickly slipping on a stray sweatshirt Olive had left out, you covered your torso and upper thighs from view. “What are you doing in here anyway?” You inquired crudely, digging through your bag for your clothes.

“Merde, I was just looking for my bass, and found it in here near your guitar.” He said, glancing away from your perturbed expression. “And it was really loud in the other room so I wanted to stay in here, ma femme parfaite.” He trailed off, not making eye contact while saying the last part.

“You can’t just switch into French and assume I understand,” You ridiculed him, pulling your tights on. “For all I know, you just called me a “cunt-bitch -whore” I teased, a playful smile pulling at my lips.

“The world may never know,” he said, lying back on the bed, slight smirk playing on his lips. His hair fell across his forehead, eyes closing, strumming his bass absentmindedly. And for a second, you wanted to kiss him.

-

The band unloaded out your car, hauling the musical equipment towards the entrance of the venue. Pushing through the door, you followed closely behind Olive, trying not to bump your band mates with the case of your guitar. The venue was still completely empty, to your relief. It was big, clearly a party scene. There was a slight haze in the air, from what, you don’t know.

Jake, being the manager, walked across the venue, beginning to set up the -sparse- merch he had designed for the band. It was a typical black band tee, but with the name of your band, “L'Enfance Nue”, sprawled across the upper half.

The rest of us decidedly walked over towards the stage, hauling the equipment behind you.

You hopped up onto the stage, placing your guitar and amp cord close to the center, but a little to stage left. Olive was already in the center with Miles, attempting to plug in their microphones to the questionable-looking amp.

Kyle stood to your stage left, also puzzling over the amp and his bass.

“Fuck this. My plug doesn’t fit,” He grumbled, standing up from his crouched position. Turning towards you, he demanded “Did you switch our cords, belle?”

You rolled your eyes at his antics, flipping your hair over your shoulder. Approaching the amp, you grabbed Kyle’s bass right out of his hands. You briefly glanced over it, noticing the black sheen and the shallow scratches throughout the face of the instrument.

You glanced up at him briefly; making, then quickly breaking, eye contact. His brunette hair had fallen into his eyes, mouth slightly agape, creating an aloof look.

You knew better.

“Oh,” you laughed, pulling the plug out of the socket on his bass. “You had the cord twisted. This side,” you clicked it into the amp, “goes here, and this” you finished the circuit, fully plugging in the instrument, “goes into here! Dumbass.” You laughed, strumming a B7 chord on the bass.

“Give that back, belle!” He demanded, grabbing your hand, which was now attempting a bass line that he plays during one of the songs.

“You can’t even play..” he trailed off, staring at your ring-clad hand. His hazel eyes drifted back up to yours, stopping briefly on your parted lips. An annoying smirk tugged on the corners of him mouth.

The position you two were in hit you like a bus. Your bodies were nearly touching, with his hand grasping yours, and his bass hanging from a strap around your shoulders. To an outsider looking in, you were about to kiss.

Yeah right.

You punched his shoulder with your opposite hand, backing away from him. Kyle scoffed, putting his hands up in surrender. Passing him his bass, you padded over to your own cord and instrument, plugging it in and tuning.

Your fingers played with the knobs on the guitar, adjusting it to perfection. You could feel Kyle’s insidious gaze on your profile, but you decidedly avoided eye contact. An embarrassed redness creeped up your neck, the tension of the room was becoming unbearable.

The lights in the venue began to dim, and the stage lights lit up. The ambiance of the room shifted, stirring your nerves. This was really happening, your first show.

-

The night went by in a haze, but the only thing you could really focus on was Kyle. He was in “the zone”, so to speak.

His hair was in his eyes, mouth hanging slightly open. A light sheen coated his forehead, dark eyeliner smudged around his eyes. He was strumming his bass with quick, ring-clad fingers, body swaying slightly to the beat.

And, despite his fuck-boyness, he looked angelic.

Kyle, finishing his bass line, glanced up at you, smirking. You smiled back, completing your solo at the end of the song.

The crowd cheered, a sound that was simply music to your ears. They loved you, loved the band. You basked in the glow of their cheers, hugging Olive from the side.

Kyle sneaked up behind the both of you, slinging his arm around your shoulder. He was smiling the brightest you’ve ever seen him smile, laughter was pouring from his lips like song.

Olive glanced at you mischievously, a small smirk pulling at her cherry lips.

“Y’all wanna hear some punk-ass French?!” She yelled into the microphone, laughing as the crowd erupted in cheers.

You both pushed Kyle forward, giggling as his face turned a bright crimson.

“Um, hey guys,” He said into the mic. There was a few whoops from the crowd, egging him on. “Nous sommes “L’Enfance nue”!” He said, laughing under his breath. “Nous sommes plutôt cool, alors... ouais. Passe une bonne nuit!” The crowd erupted into cheers and clapping.

You never wanted the night to end.

-

But, like all things, it did.

And now you wanted nothing more than to shower and relax, in your bed, alone.

Alas, Olive decided tonight, of all nights, was the night to make a move on Miles. And so, Olive sat on his lap in the backseat of your car, loudly making out with him.

And when you arrived at the hotel, they had wordlessly claimed the room with the two beds, locking the door swiftly behind them.

-

“Guys!! Really? Come ON!” You yelled, banging on the door. Turning to the group, you sighed, crossing your arms. “What are we going to do?” You groaned, leaning against the wall.

“Well.. I guess I can find another hotel..” Jake said, scratching the back of his head bashfully.

“I’ll go with him!” Tony quickly agreed, following Jake out of the hotel. You turned to Kyle, sighing reluctantly.

-

“Alright" you declared, marching towards the door. "Let's get this over with." Kyle followed, his movements mirroring yours. The small walk down the cramped hallway was filled with a tension.

Neither of you dared to speak. Reaching the door, you fumbled for the key, your irritation evident in your clumsiness. Finally, with a click, the door swung open, revealing a room that was thoroughly unappealing.

The bed loomed before you, a battleground for an uncomfortable night's sleep. With a sigh, you began building a formidable fortress of pillows in the center of the bed. Kyle rolled his eyes at the sight, scoffing at you.

“We’re not children, belle,” Kyle stated, starting to dismantle your fortress.

“‘You could’ve fooled me, Ky,” you said, giving up on the pillows. Grabbing your bag, you walked swiftly into the bathroom, hoping to change into something more comfortable.

There was a certain absurdity to the situation, being forced to share a room with someone who you refused to love.

And unfortunately, your resolve you crumbling.

-

You sat at the small vanity, brushing your hair out. You saw Kyle approaching you out in the reflection, but you refused to make direct eye contact.

You knew what was about to happen.

He touched your shoulder lightly, rubbing circles on the exposed skin.

-

“You’re beautiful,” he told you, his voice still soft. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you.” Your voice is soft, too, but it is also nervous, almost fearful.

He knelt down. “Belle, look at me.”

You bit your lip. You didn’t want to look at him. In fact, you were quite sure everyone would be infinitely better off if you never laid eyes on him again, bandmate or no.

You did, though, turning around on the chair hesitantly. He took your hands in his, smiling at you in such a way that your heart fluttered.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” He whispered, clutching your hands. “Your heart is safe with me,” he finished, blushing lightly.

“But I know you,” you told him softly with a slight shake of your head, “And I can’t do this.”

He tensed, his hands tightening around yours. “Why not?”

You shook your head again.

You couldn’t tell him why you refused to allow him to have you, despite him trying so many times in the past. You knew how he felt about you.

But you know how he is, what he does.

“I love you, belle,” he whispered fiercely. “I’ve loved you for months. I want you. I need you.”

“You don’t,” you insisted, yanking your hands away and standing up, backing away from him.

He stepped forward. You turned around, adjusting a table decoration to distract yourself from him.

Then, footsteps.

Hands on your hips.

Being pulled gently backwards.

The firm lines of a male body pressed against you.

The heat emanating from him, seeping through your clothes and into your skin.

“I do,” he said quietly, pulling your hair to one side and leaning down to press kisses into the skin of your neck.

You tried desperately not to whimper.

Logical or not, you wanted him to touch you, and had for a long time.

Kyle’s grip on your hips tightened. “I want you,” he said again. “I need to be yours” Another kiss to your neck. “Please, belle. Please don’t turn ms down. I’ll be good to you, I promise,” he swore. “The best you’ve ever had.” Another kiss, this one open-mouthed.

“I want to fill you,” he murmured. “With me at first, again and again until you’re screaming for it, screaming for me .” He slid his hands up and down your sides, lingering on your hips. “Then I want to fill you with my children.” Another kiss. “And then me again. I’ve been with a lot of women, and I know… I know I’ll never tire of you, never get enough of you.”

You knew he’d been with a great many women, but hearing him say it was like an ice shard in your chest anyway.

“How many?” You whispered, your voice sharp.

“You mean, uh…” he trailed off, embarrassed.

“How many women?”

He didn’t speak for several seconds.

“About seven.”

Another ice shard.

“I see.”

“Does it bother you?” he questioned.

You didn’t say anything at first, but then, “You know it does,”

“But I love you,” Kyle pointed out, winding his arms around your waist and resting his head on your shoulder. “I have for so long” You almost scoffed. Then, after a moment, he murmured, “Are you jealous?” 

“Of course not,” you said primly.

His hands tightened on your hips, his fingers digging into the fabric of your shorts.

“I like that you’re jealous,” he told you, nuzzling your neck.

“I’m not,” you snapped.

Kyle chuckled softly, then sighed and said, “I won’t force you.” He stepped away from you. “But I… I need you to know,” he went on, “that I care for you a great deal. I’ll make it special for you. I’ll make it good for you,” he promised. “I can make you beg for me. I can make you burn for me as I burn for you.”

You turned towards him, bracing your hands against the table behind you for fear you’d fall over, shock evident on your face.

“You…” you paused, “you burn for me?”

He stepped towards you again until he was right in front of you, then cupped your cheeks in his hands. “Haven’t you seen the way I look at you?”

You shook your head, eyes wide.

“Let me be yours, belle,” he murmured, gazing longingly at your reddened lips. “Let me make you feel good.” He was leaning towards you slowly, gauging your reaction. “Please. I need you,” he said again, desperate for you. “Say you’ll have me,” he pleaded. “Say you'll let me take you, make you mine.”

“Aren’t I already yours?” You wondered aloud. Realizing your words, you slapped a hand over your mouth, face turning red.

Kyle smirked at you, chucking softly. “If you are mine I am certainly yours,” he responded.

You’d never thought you’d want to belong to someone, but you wanted to belong to him. Your heart and soul have belonged to him for a long time, though you’d never tell him that. What difference did it make if your body belonged to him, too?

You shouldn’t. You should refuse him. He would break your heart, and there’d be nothing you could do to escape him. You couldn’t very well kick him out of the band, could you?

You shouldn’t let him touch you, but with him looking at you that way, you weren’t sure you could refuse. Your resolve crumbled.

He’s already going to break my heart, you realized.

Unintentional it may be, but he will destroy you nonetheless, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it. If you let him do as he wishes, at least you’ll have him in this small way. At least you’ll be able to pretend, for a moment, that he’s truly in love with you, too.

You couldn’t refuse him. You wanted this with him too much.

You clenched your eyes shut and nodded slightly. 

Within seconds, Kyle’s hand was in your hair and his lips were moving against yours with barely restrained passion. He wound his free arm around your waist, tilting his head slightly. 

His lips never leaving yours, moving against you with a gentle pressure, he began to untie drawstring that was keeping your shorts on your waist.

Having been the only person to ever see your body since you’d passed that age of 10, you nearly pushed him away from you, nearly swatted his hands away.

He was still kissing you when he slid your tank-top off of your torso. “Tilt your head,” he said quietly, looking into your eyes. You did so. “Move your lips like I do, okay?” You nodded your understanding, and he smiled. “Good. When my tongue touches yours, just do what I do, belle.”

“What does that mean?” You asked, your voice quiet and rushed as he moved in to kiss you again. “You’ve been calling me that all night”

“Belle?” he questioned. You nodded, and he smiled again. “It means ‘beautiful’.”

You blushed. “Oh.”

And then he kissed you again. Hard. You wanted more, wanted his lips to keep moving against yours, and when you tentatively mirrored his actions, he moaned against you, gripping your hip with one hand and placing the other at the small of your back. When he felt the fabric of your bra, however, he froze.

And you remembered that he hadn’t actually taken the time to look at you in your underwear alone. He pulled back slowly, his eyes sliding down your body.

It was a fairly typical set, black lace and pink stitching that led to a bow in the center. It pushed your breasts together slightly, and hugged your curves closely.

It left nothing to the imagination.

The shapes and lines of your body were visible. The color of your nipples, the slightly curved expanse of your stomach, the slender dip of your waist and the swell of your hips.

Kyle could see every part of you, and he stared at you for nearly a minute, his eyes wide and his mouth hanging open just a fraction, before the two of them appeared to snap out of the trance they’d been in; him after seeing your body, and you at the horror of him seeing your body.

You crossed one leg in front of the other and covered your breasts with your arms.

Kyle, on the other hand, was in the process of pulling his shirt off as quickly as physically possible.

“No,” he practically growled as he yanked his shirt over his head and promptly began to unbuckle his belt, shucking off his shoes and socks at the same time. “Don’t hide yourself from me.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed, as he stripped down to his undergarments (a cotton pair of short pants with a drawstring, which he quickly undid) before sliding those over his hipbones, too, with absolutely zero hesitation.

You didn’t even get a look at his dick, he was on you so fast.

He kissed you roughly, with a groan of, “Belle,” against your lips as he slid the straps of your bra down your shoulders. It caught on the tops of your breasts, and you kissed him back hesitantly. “Take this off, amour.”

He kissed your neck wetly and began to suck on the skin there, and you were lost. Slipping your arms out of the confines of the bra, pulling it off your frame. You allowed him to slide your underwear down your legs, too, so that it pooled at your feet.

And then you were naked before him. Well and truly naked. He stopped kissing you, pulling away from you, panting. “Let me look at you.” When you lifted your arms up to block your breasts from view again, he grabbed your wrists. “No,” he said softly. “No. Tu m'appartiens maintenant.”

You found you quite liked the way French rolled off his tongue. Particularly the way he his mouth moved with every foreign syllable.

“What does that mean?” You asked, forcing your embarrassment at being so exposed from your mind.

He grinned. “It means you belong to me now.”

Yes, something deep inside of you whispered. I am yours.

And then you glanced down at his body for the first time, and…

No. No, this wasn’t going to work. It was not what you’d been expecting at all.

You have masterbated before, and it was indeed pleasurable. But that was two of your fingers, maybe three. Naturally, you’d assumed that a man would be about the same size (and therefore endurable) as your fingers.

Kyle was… Well. He most certainly wasn’t the same size as your fingers. In fact, he was about as thick as your wrist, or very nearly so, and seemed to be close to 7 inches.

Fuck.

This wouldn’t work. No, it certainly would not.

You looked back up at him, scoffing. He was taking a step towards you. You took one back. He raised an eyebrow at you, and you shook your head in response, earning a frown from your newfound partner.

“Nope,” you squeaked, taking another step back.

“Nope? Why ‘nope’?”

“If,” you began, “if that is what you plan on putting inside me, then I’m sorry to tell you, Kyle, but but there’s no fucking way”

He blinked at you in confusion. “Amour.” He said the pet name slowly, drawing out the syllables. “I promise you, it’s not impossible.”

“We can try, I guess,” you conceded, still inwardly skeptical.

Pushing past your worries, you tilted your head to the side, beckoning him back towards you. And when he pressed his body to yours, you felt it against your stomach.

Good god, but it felt even larger than it looked.

“I’ll prepare you,” Kyle promised, one of his hands resting on your hip. “You were made to take me.” He pressed a kiss just below your ear. “I know you were.” And then, he was murmuring French again. “Je vais te faire mendier pour ma bite.”

“What does that mean?” You gasped out as he trailed kisses up your neck and peppered your jaw with them.

He smirked against your skin. 

“It means I’ll make you beg for my dick.”

You whimpered. “Let me make you scream for me,” he said huskily before kissing you again, even more fiercely than he had before.

“Ky,” you gasped out as he laved at your neck. “Kyle, please—“

“I will,” he promised, cupping your cheek and kissing you hungrily. “Spread your legs for me, mon amour.”

You pushed down your nervousness by force and did so, too absorbed in him to ask the meaning of what he’d said. Once your legs were spread, he slipped his hand between them and began to stroke you.

He groaned when his fingertips first brushed against you. “You’re so wet,” he said hoarsely. “God, you must want me as much as I want you.” You didn’t speak, because he was kissing you again. And then he brushed his fingers against your clit, and you knew it was over for you. Your resolve snapped.

He rubbed you with one hand and grasped your breast with the other, stroking your nipple.

A whimper forced its way out of your throat, and he chuckled against your lips. “Does it feel good?” He was still stroking you between your legs, sending sparks of pure electricity shooting through your veins, and the fingers caressing your breast had started to pinch your nipple lightly. “Tell me if it feels good,” he encouraged.

“It— it does,” You gasped out as he trailed kisses along your jaw.

“Je vais te baiser jusqu'à ce que tu ne puisses plus bouger, jusqu'à ce que tu ne puisses plus respirer, jusqu'à ce que tu ne puisses penser à rien d'autre qu'à moi,” he murmured in your ear.

“Kyle,” you whimpered, “if you— if you’re going to speak French, you have to translate it.”

“I’ll try to remember that.” He rubbed you a little bit faster, pinched your nipple a little bit harder. “I said I’m going to fuck you until you can’t move,” he told you lowly, “until you can’t breathe, until you can’t think of anything but me.”

He slid a finger inside of you, and it was insanely better than when you’d tried it on yourself. It was… it was divine. He pulled the finger out again, pumping it a few times and rubbing that spot with his thumb all the while.

A wet squelching sound filled the room that you were embarrassed by, but Kyle seemed to revel in it. “So wet for me,” he groaned, leaning his forehead against your shoulder and sliding another finger inside you.

You clutched at his shoulders, and your hips started to move against his hand. As soon as you became physically responsive, he lifted his head and kissed you desperately, his hand leaving your breast to cup your cheek as you practically rode his fingers.

You panted and whimpered, and when he saw you biting your lip in effort to keep quiet, he pulled your lip out from between your teeth with his thumb, stroking it.

“I want every part of you,” he whispered on an exhale. “I want to hear every sound you make. Don’t you dare hide them.”

Shutting your eyes tightly and letting your head fall back against the wall with a soft thunk, you stopped trying to suppress your whimpers and cries of his name.

“Kyle, Kyle, ah, ah, Kyle—“

“I know, gentille fille,” he said quietly. “I know.”

“Oh, God, Kyle—“ you cried out.

“Trust me, beautiful. Let go.”

You were certain you were going to die. It felt as if he continued, you would die. It felt good, it felt incredible. You didn’t know how he was simply so good, but you were so grateful for it.

“Let go,” he said again, and you fisted a hand in his unruly hair, kissing him with a desperation you hadn’t known you’d had in you. His tongue brushed against yours, and you moaned into his mouth, yearning for him.

You were going to explode after all. This orgasm, it was building inside of you, and with it, your love for him was, too, and he kept thrusting his fingers into you, kept stroking you with his thumb, and you kissed him again, for fear you couldn’t contain the words within you, but then your head leaned back of its own accord.

“Kyle Kyle Kyle please, please don’t stop—“ you moaned loudly, chanting his name like a prayer.

“I won’t,” he promised darkly. “Cum for me, amour.” You cried out again, and he leaned down and bit your neck. “That’s it,” he encouraged. “Cum for me.”

“Ah ah ah, oh fuck, Kyle—“ You were sobbing now, and Kyle leaned down to suckle at your nipples, biting them gently. You practically screamed, and then you burst into starlight, and as you did, something emerged from you that you couldn’t have contained no matter how hard you tried.

“Ky,” you were sobbing.

“I know,” he murmured against your breast.

“Kyle, I love you, please, I— I love you, I love you I love you I love you, Fuck, Kyle, ah!” He froze when he heard you say it, but you were already clenching around his fingers, your body convulsing.

He pulled back from you and removed his fingers from within you, still in shock.

“Really?” He finally murmured, tilting your chin up softly. His hazel eyes gazing back into yours.

“Yeah,” you said softly, caressing his cheek. “Yeah.” You repeated louder, a smile tugging at your lips.

-

And they lived happily ever after blah blah blah

-

[staytheword]

LMLY (leave me loving you)

lmly (leave me loving you) — short series masterlist status — complete [ back to general masterlist ]

this series (and this blog) are 18+ !! minors, please do not interact!! if you interact with my writing please have a profile picture and short bio indicating your age. it helps me make sure you are not a bot!!

• han jisung x female reader, other stray kids members are mentioned/featured, as well as other idols (very briefly).

• non idol au, rock band au. lots of banter and chaos. a little angst because I can't help it, but overall there is a good vibe. drinking, drug consumption (weed), strong language, smut. (nothing particular, specific warnings will be given on each part)

The Jack of Trades, a music venue owned by your best friend, is packed with a febrile audience. If the Trades normally hosts less known local artists, tonight a popular band on the rise, Side Effects, is performing. You're there for support, as you always are, not sure of what to expect from the performance. As you hang backstage, you make eye contact with their dummer, Han Jisung, and all it takes is a smile and a wink.

• author’s note: Hi everyone ♡ I finally gathered enough courage to announce the new series I've been working on. If you can't tell this is all super board's fault. I am blameless :) This will be a short series, of probably three "short" parts (7k each). Please let me know if it interests you and if you would like to be tagged! I'll try to post the first part soon! You'll find a small preview under the cut!! Thank you as always for your support, lots of love ♡

• part one — thanks for the memories • part two — the kids aren't alright • part three — anywhere but home

preview ↓

You decide to stay for a song, making yourself small backstage. The first notes of an electric guitar rips through the room, soon followed by a rhythmic beat on the drums. When the voices join the melody, you find yourself moving, tapping your feet on the floor. The song is catchy, reminding you of the music you listened to when you were a teenager - in a good way - and their voices blend in perfect harmony. 

Tank top guy, who you understand is the main singer and guitarist, stands at the center of the stage, belting a perfectly controlled high note in the microphone. To his right, the other guitarist smiles widely at the crowd, no longer looking nervous - and to the left, perfectly sporting the bad boy look with his leather jacket, the bassist does not even smirk. 

But really, it’s him you can’t look away from. Sitting at the drums, on the edge of his stool, slamming his sticks like a man possessed. He’s fast and aggressive, his face quickly dripping in sweat, his tongue slightly sticking out from between his teeth. In your entire life, you’ve never seen anyone play the drums like that. He’s probably barely visible behind the other members and the array of drums and cymbals in front of him, and yet he shines so bright you can’t take your eyes off him. 

You stand there as if struck by lightning for the rest of the song, and then for about half of the second. 

Who is that guy? 

You see the appeal. Four handsome guys with an insane amount of charisma bombarding really good music like they were born for it - of course they would be popular. Around you, the audience is dancing and singing, clearly having fun. You feel proud, and a little embarrassed that you didn’t give this band much attention before. They are good. 

You clap when the second song ends, listening attentively as they introduce themselves. The singer and leader is Chris. The other guitarist is Felix. At the bass is Minho, and behind the drums sits Jisung. 

You can’t help it - you stare at him. Jisung. He’s fidgeting like a child as Chris interacts with the crowd, happiness overflowing his eyes. He plays with his drumsticks like they’re the extensions of his fingers, which you don’t doubt is true. As Felix says something about an upcoming EP, Jisung leans down to drink some water, and as he looks up, your eyes meet.

He doesn’t react, and for a second you think he can’t actually see you in the dark - but then, he smiles. 

A heart-wrenching, life-altering smile. 

You can almost feel your legs wobble, but really, you are too shocked to move. You just stare back like an idiot until he looks away. 

How can a guy be so goddamn magnetic? 

The next song starts and you try to catch your breath. It’s hard to do so as he plays right next to you, the muscles of his arms tensed, his entire body jolting as he pounces on the drums. He’s still smiling, but he’s focused. You breathe out slowly. 

When you think you can watch him in peace, he turns his head for a second and winks at you. 

It’s the hottest thing you’ve ever seen. 

You take a step backwards, clearing your throat, and look around nervously. Hyunjin, standing beside you, laughs. You glare at him and he playfully winks at you. You make sure to give his arm a good slap before you head back towards the sound booth and Changbin, your legs a little shaky. 

You’ll watch the concert from a distance. 

• permanent taglist: ughbehavior​ ; upallnight-s ; changbinluvr ; rosexjimin ; nasiaisan ;  lotus-dly ; cb97percent ; j-0ne25 ; tanyas97 ; raspbinniecreme

• story taglist: mintquokka ; septicrebel ; is2cb97 ; dirah-h ; bokk-minnie ; allypasta ; strawberriesandknives ; drhsthl ; hyunjins-red-lights ; thesunsfullmoon ; hanstan34 ; hanjiphile ; brit97 ; downbadreading ; phobia0325 ; multinci ; anthorpologymajorkpopmultistan ; jisungxident

[fqiryspit]

hii gorgeous, i hope your doing well! congratulations!! 💕 i love your work 🙌🏽 its my first time asking 🫶🏼 can i request angst 15 and 48?

ahhhhh thank you so much for requesting!! I really really love this one and I hope you do to!! <33 mwah! 💞

15 and 48 = “no, I won’t calm down.” "don't say that!" |fqiryspits 3k event|

abusive!eren x fem!reader

cw: ABUSE!!, emotional manipulation, hitting, scratching, jean is a saint, confusion and almost hallucinatory type things

as you slip into the closing door of your apartment and flick the yellow lights on, your raw ears flinch at the sound of keys slamming against the table

you knew he was mad. you should've just stayed by him all night.

I mean- that's what you usually do at these mediocre parties. bass in your throat while trying to find eren in the changing light to make sure he wouldn't end up in a room with another girl...again.

"you think you're fucking funny?" he mumbles, back still towards you as you come to from your thoughts

"eren. I'm sorry" you whisper, head hanging down as he turns to you, squishing your cheeks together and forcing them back up with him

"tell me, did you fuck him?"

"no!" you slur, mouth detained as you rely on your tongue. he isn't satisfied, with how his nails dig into your plump cheeks, you know he isn't getting over this with just questions.

it was late into the party, eren was slowly slipping from your grip, and you wanted nothing more than to go home and sleep.

"bored?" a voice punctured your ear-drum, yelling over the music.

you turn and saw jean, one of erens many friends as he sips on god knows what.

"I'm fine." you answer simply, eren always warned you about jean and his antics so you're custom to shutting down any conversation right at the start

"don't play that eren shit with me." you froze, what...does he mean? did eren tell him that he told you to stay away?

"I don't know what you're talking about" you almost whispered but he somehow caught it

"yes, you do." he turns to lean against the wall you're on to keep watch of eren while you stare at the floor

"okay...then what happened?" you blink, now finding yourself in erens arms. still standing in the kitchen as you subconsciously dig your nose into erens shirt a little more

"w-we went outside..."

"eren...what does he...do to you?" jean says simply, watching the pool as the water's movements reflect on his pale face

"what do you mean?" you feel your brows contort, he takes another sip of his drink before looking over at you

"does he hurt you?"

"fuck, why would he say that?" eren curses, brushing your hair softer as he shakes his head

"I would never- hurt you? why would he say that?" he almost babbles to himself, grabbing your cheeks again, gentler this time as he swipes over the fingernail marks

"I would never, ever hurt you, baby. it's just sometimes you get into trouble" his voice faded and features dimmed as you heard crickets and muffled screams and music, a blue light swirling on your face as you find yourself back to the pool, and jean awaiting your answer

you didn't even notice the tears in your eyes, tucking your bottom lip in as you try and compose yourself

"he would never wanna hurt me"

"but does he?" he says simply like this is a normal conversation, eyes boring into yours, not moving away for a second

"no. he doesn't"

"what did you say?" a soothing voice tosses you back, you look into his eyes as he is still cupping your face.

you haven't answered him yet.

"what did you say, baby?" he seems...almost...worried with your awaiting answer. he wouldn't be if he actually didn't hurt you...

"what?"

"he wouldn't be if he actually didn't hurt you" jean repeats, sipping on his drink as he sits back on the pool chair

"you're being manipulated and toyed with, y/n. erens is an ass and you need to get out"

get...out? why would I need to get out? I can leave him anytime, there's just no reason.

"there is a reason and you need to- get out" you cup your head, it aches, mostly with confusion, you're not sure what's happening and if you're saying all this out loud again

"fucking answer me!" he slams you into the door again, you cup your head to soften the blow and he stops

"I'm sorry I'm sorry are you okay?" he rushes to your aid, going to your head to check if it's alright

"you...hurt me" you whisper, erens...hurting you.

"I'm sorry baby, I didn't mean to!" he cries, hot tears running down his face as he sobs into your shoulder

"you hurt me eren"

"don't say that!" he wails out, you feel yourself backing away from him as you feel yourself about to burst with so much hate for the man in front of you

"baby? wha-what are you doing?" he calls out, eyes flashing to the doorknob as he reaches for it, making sure you won't leave him just yet

"you're horrible eren, jean is right- and- and, I need to get out-" you yell, eyes blurring with tears

"please baby- you- you need to calm down!" he sobs

"don't tell me to calm down" you whisper, feeling like an idiot for ignoring your friends and putting up with him for so long

"fuck you, eren" you turn, he reaches for you and you take the open door knob and run.

"I'm such an idiot..." you bury your head in your hands

"no, you've just been lied to over and over" jean pipes, as you stare into the swirling pool you make your way back to jean

"thank you"

an: happy birthday eren! hehe, I hope you liked this! I really like doing that style of back-and-forth but I hope it wasn't confusing lmao!! again, thank you so so much for requesting! mwah! 💞

[boingfessions]

HAPPY OINGO BOINGO DAY EVERYNYAN!!!

I hope everyone has a great time today! Surely more than one person asked themselves a question: What the HELL is Oingo Boingo? Well, the name itself is complete absurdity! But what makes Oingo Boingo Oingo Boingo? Find out in this post under cut!

Our beloved crazy ginger man! Daniel Robert Elfman is an American film composer, singer, songwriter, and musician. Delusional, orange af, joker-like, face with a combination of slasher smile and Kubrick stare, perhaps even had prolonged non-fatal rabies in his time in Oingo Boingo that was only recently cured when the band broke, but unfortunately (or not) returned in recent years. Now his entire body is covered in tattoos and his hair is straight now because of dyeing it to hide his gray hair, ergo his old age. The truth is that he is actually a skeleton disguised as Danny Elfman to pass himself off as living human so that the Grim Reaper don't come after him, but SHHHH!!! I did not tell you anything!

Danny Elfman (lead vocals, rhythm guitar)

Steve Bartek (lead guitar, rhythm vocals)

Fluffy tall boy <3. Steve Bartek is an American guitarist, film composer, conductor, and orchestrator. Elfman's right-hand man and the one he trusts with his skeletons in his closet, oh and his film compositions too of course! One of the few members of the band who was not consumed by it and therefore did not become a feral creature in the process. He plays little guitars because he's a big man, y'know! He usually wore ridiculously short ties along with baggy t-shirts. His guitar solos drove Danny so crazy that he was spinning around and caused him to have back pain to this day, so you know how to blame. Nowadays unfortunately his beautiful dark curls have become gray, but luckily he now looks like an adorable grandpa now! (just like the others)

Kerry Hatch (bass guitar, backing vocals)

A marvelous human being! Kerry Hatch is an American musician... and that's it. Walking diva and Zoolander wannabe, this lad was the band's bassist until 1984, when he decided to join the band "Zuma II" (what the HELL is that band? I have no idea!). A pretty lad who likes to be handsome and play bass guitars that don't even look like bass guitars, I don't know what else I could say about him! Maybe he thought the band wasn't good enough for him and decided to leave to pursue something better, but that's just a guess... if you can consider a landscaping business better!

Richard "Ribbs" Gibbs (keyboards, backing vocals)

Mister mistery~ Richard Gibbs is an American film composer and music producer. Like Kerry, he left the band in 1984 to join Zuma II, and to be honest I don't know what what that band had to make not one but TWO members of Oingo Boingo (the best band in the entire galaxy and even the sixth dimension) have left to be in that band. Anywho, all I have to say about him is that he did well in life, being a composer like Danny and that's it.

Johnny "Vatos" Hernández (drums, percussion)

THIS IS JOHNNY VATOS FROM OINGO BOINGO MAN!!!! He is a drummer with crazy hairstyles who likes to dum ba dum through life. Almost as crazy as Danny was, he stayed loyal to the band even after they broke up (yes, he was in another band called Food for Feet, but I don't give a DAMN!) Years after the band broke up he managed to reunite about four former members and form "Oingo Boingo Former Members", made up of him, Steve Bartek, John Avila, Carl Graves and Sam "Sluggo" Phipps, in addition to new members. Idk about you, but I would like to have him as my grandpa!

Sam "Sluggo" Phipps (saxophone, backing vocals)

Leon Schneiderman (saxophone, backing vocals)

Slam Bam "Sluggo" Phipps is an American saxophone player known for his signature bright, expressive smiles, where he shows off all his teeth and can light up an entire room. The tallest guy in the band and the one who likes to show off his instrument the most, rising it high in the air when attention is focused on him. Well, maybe not so much, but you understand what I mean! Maybe he can be too expressive and noisy, but we still love him ❤️

Dale Turner (trumpet, backing vocals)

Do you remember when I said that Sluggo had the brightest smile in the world? Well, I lied! That one goes to our dear Leon Schneiderman, the other saxophonist in the band. He could do anything in the whole world, even his own instruments! Being a childhood friend of Danny's, it can be said that he has been in the band every moment since it started, even longer than Danny himself! Don't you love him and his smiles?

John Avila (bass guitar, backing vocals)

Our beloved grandpa-mom. He is an American trumpet player who entered The Mystic Knights after they let him audition after seeing him practice in secret. He makes sure to keep an eye on the other guys in the band and can (if he hasn't already) spank them to make them behave (except for Sluggo; NOBODY spanks Sluggo). Even if he is the shortest member of the band along with John Avila, that doesn't make him any less authoritative, being around ten years older than the rest of the band. He is silent like a mouse and has never been heard to speak, perhaps because he is reserved or has nothing to say. He left the band and is currently enjoying his life privately, and I really hope he's okay!

HE IS MY BABY, MY CUTIE PIE, MY PUPPY, MY LOVE, MY LIFE, THE BEST BOY IN THE WHOLE WORLD!!!!!!!!! RAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

Ahem, sorry about that... John Avila is an American bassist and music producer. A literal human puppy and the shortest member of the band. He looks like you could pick him up in your arms and cradle him like a baby... Sorry, I'm off topic again! What do you want me to do? He's simply adorable! (At least for me). Anywho, Although he appears in the Gratitude MV, it was not until 6 months after the release of the album So-Lo that he joined the band along with Michael Bacich, being the new bassist and keyboardist respectively. He is usually hyperactive and you can see him at concerts jumping, spinning and playing his bass like a pro. The strange thing is that, even though the years go by and he obviously ages, he still seems to be the same mischievous and playful puppy-like guy... Okay, sorry again!

Michael Bacich (keyboards, backing vocals)

Quiet nerdy boy. He's was the keyboardist of the band since 1985 until 1988. Yes, he didn't stay for a long time, but his presence in the band is still important as he was present in the band's best era (Dead Man's Party). He looks like the typical nerd who would say "actually☝️🤓" and give you information that you didn't even ask for but still decided to give you to expand your zero knowledge. He also looks kinda shy and like someone who Danny would bully if the band were in a cliché teen movie. Like Dale, he decided to move on with his life after leaving the band, which it's okay after all.

I ran out of space for more images! Don't worry, I'll reblog this post right away talking about the rest of the band (which are only two members but still!). Thank you very much for reading this far and HAPPY BOINGO DAY TO ALL OF YOU AGAIN!!!

[gyqru]

FEATHER — chad meeks-martin

warning: cheating, fem! reader.

summary: you dedicate an unreleased song to your, ex boyfriend, chad.

word count: 2.0k

you formed your band back in your senior year of high school; you and three other of your closest friends decided to pursue your dreams of being stars. now attending college, your dreams have come true.

being the only one with any sort of vocal stability, you were placed as the main singer. your friends all played instruments; mei played drums, chantel played electric guitar, and drew played bass. having a decent following by now, the band performs in pubs and small venues.

it wasn't hard to balance this double life; you actually found it quite peaceful. you enjoyed performing, loving the rush of adrenaline whenever people cheered you on. especially when you have amazing people supporting you.

besides your bandmates, your lovely boyfriend was your number one supporter. always coming to your shows whenever he wasn't studying his brain off. he usually pays out of pocket to see you; you've tried to get him in for free, but he refuses.

he even introduced you to his friends; they seemed skeptical at first, but soon warmed up to you. at some point, they even started showing up to your concerts, always cheering louder than everyone else.

oh it’s like that? i’m your dream come true when it’s on a platter for you

now eight months into your relationship, things have started to go downhill. you find yourself not being able to find your boyfriend's broad body in the crowd. no more post-concert hangouts like you two would usually do.

you stand in the back alley of the pub, just finished performing. you've been calling chad non-stop, going straight to voicemail. his phone is probably dead.

then you pull back, when i try to make plans more than two hours in advance

sighing, you start walking to your boyfriend's apartment. you wanted to check up on him; he never lets his phone die. you send a quick message to your friends telling them you already left the pub.

shoving your phone in your pocket, you start to wonder what ethan could be doing at this moment. smiling at yourself as you imagine him asleep, holding the stuffed animal you got him back when you first started dating. god, you missed him so much.

i slam the door, i hit ignore

standing at the door of your boyfriend's apartment, you start to dig in your purse for the spare key he gave you. ethan didn't mind you having a spare, better than having you bang on their door late at night.

opening the door, you enter quietly. it was past midnight by now, so you didn't want to wake ethan up. taking your shoes off and hanging your coat, you start to head towards chad’s room.

a sliver of dim lighting catches your attention; why would he be awake this late? getting closer to the foot of his room, you start to make out quiet thumping noises. your heart starts to beat faster–you feel like it's pulsing in your ear.

i’m saying no, no, no, no more

pressing the side of your face to his door, you finally hear it: soft moaning from the other side of the door.

it isn't your boyfriend's.

it's another girl moaning.

before you could process anything, you barge into his room. the sight in front of you makes you want to vomit your insides out. there was your beloved boyfriend, lying in his bed, getting rode by some other woman.

his eyes snap open the moment his door gets swung open. he wasn't expecting to see his girlfriend's face staring at him. before either of them can react, you turn around and start to leave.

i got you blocked

chad scrambles to get the girl off of him, cursing aloud as he realizes how fucked he is. putting your coat back on, you leave his apartment. you barely processed what you just saw; not a single emotion has developed in your brain.

“y/n! please,” you hear from down the hall. ethan, completely disheveled, was trying to catch up with you, ready to give you some bullshit excuse. you want to tell him to fuck off, to walk away, but you can't.

you stand there and let him try to explain what was happening. in the midst of whatever excuse he was using now, you see someone walking up behind him.

tara fucking carpenter. the girl he told you not to worry about, the girl you swore could've been your sister.

the feeling of numbness now gets replaced with pure rage; you never wanted to get violent until now. your eye twitches as she cowers behind chad, not looking at you in the face. chad doesn't stop apologizing, ignoring tara's presence.

you continue to stay silent, letting him beg and plead for forgiveness. noticing you weren't going to say anything, he finally stops.

“say something, please, scream at me. get mad at me, please just say something,” chad pleads, clasping your hands with his. you quickly yank yourself away from his grasp, staring at him with disgust.

“you don't deserve all that, chad. if it ain't obvious, we're done. lose my number.” and with that, you walk away. using the stairs to make your way down the lobby, refusing to bear any more embarrassment having to wait for the elevator.

after this, an afterthought i finally cut you off

three weeks have passed since then; only your bandmates knew about what happened. you don't know what crap chad told his friends, but they all seemed to ignore you. that didn't matter to you; you ignored them too.

throwing yourself into your passion, you started to write "heartbreak" songs. something you swore you would never do, but oh how things can change. you finally released a mini album and found your band's fame growing.

i feel so much lighter like a feather with you off my mind

people seemed to eat up the songs you wrote about your ex, so much so that they reached chad. he found himself listening to your voice, singing your broken heart out. he missed the way your voice would lull him to sleep.

besides planning your first concert since the breakup in a couple of days, you were also scheming a way to get back at your ex.

floatin’ through the memories like whatever

you feel betrayed and hurt, letting this grudge bubble in you. you wrote a song that you didn't release; it was more upbeat than anything you've written. the perfect song to rub it in his face that he lost the best thing in his life.

mei and chantel tried to talk you out of it, saying he wasn't worth it. you ignored them; the hatred you felt was too immense not to be able to do this. you have to embarrass him the way he did to you.

you’re a waste of time

backstage, you sat, staring at yourself in the vanity mirror that splayed your face back at you. revenge is a dish best served cold, but that didn't stop you from looking so hot.

wearing a completely new look for this concert, you checked yourself out. a sparkly periwinkle corset and skirt set adorned your body.

barely covering your ass, the skirt hung low on your hips; the corset pushed your breasts together, giving you the best-looking cleavage ever. matching gloves laced your hands; black fishnets and combat boots added a slight edge to your sparkly appearance.

your bandmates wore sparkly outfits too, yet in more neutral colors. they allowed you to stand out tonight. if they couldn't talk you out of it, might as well join you. they didn't like chad either anyway; serves him what he deserves.

your signal are mixed, you act like a bitch

"they're here, y/n," drew interrupts your train of thought. looking at him through the mirror, you smile sweetly at him, though the glint in your eyes makes andrew shudder. "god, y/n/n, you're reminding me why I never want to get on your bad side," he murmurs, causing you to giggle.

“come on drew, let's get this show started,” you get up, grabbing your microphone, heading to where the technical assistant people stood. once they finished hooking your earpiece up, they ushered you to the center of the stage.

it was blacked out on stage, so no one saw you get on. as you stood waiting for the cue for everything to start, you hear the murmurs of the crowd. you never felt nervous for a show until now; drew informed you they stood front and center.

mindy, anika, ethan, and tara all accompanied him. you wonder how he even got tara to agree to come here. shaking the thoughts out of your head, the countdown in your ear starts.

“everyone in their places? alright, one... two... good luck, guys.” the bright lights of the stage illuminated the venue. your smile shined brighter as the beats to your first song started blasting.

drew was right; they were front and center. from your peripheral, you saw chad's expression; he was in awe. this was going to be good.

you fit every stereotype, send a pic

“new york! hope you all enjoyed tonight!” you exclaimed into your mic, beaming at the roars of cheers. “well, tonight, i have a special surprise for you all.” teasingly, you let their screams of excitement fill your ears.

“this surprise is a little different from any song we’ve played tonight. it’s also for someone in particular who's in the crowd right now,” you announced, staring directly at chad.

“hope you like this song, chad.” his face heats up, embarrassment mixed with excitement filling chad.

fans around him yelled and shrieked; some even threw their gifts at him. tara, who was next to him, was fuming. this entire time she’s been there, watching him admire you, his dopey smile never faltering.

the upbeat sound of the instrumentals causes everyone to shout. this was a new sound; even chad and his friends were shocked. they were used to the mellow alternative sound of your music; they never would've expected this. even tara stopped talking, doing a double-take at what you were singing.

i slam the door, i hit ignore

you kick the air, bending over as you continue to sing. your whole body feels warm, confidence and adrenaline coursing through your veins. chad's eyes widen as your hips continue to sway in front of him. he knows you love to perform, but this is a new you; he's never seen you act like this.

you start to get close to the edge of the stage, bending down to get close to where chad stood. reaching out to him, he comes close, his body naturally drawn to you. you lean in as close as you can, your noses barely touching. chad's gaze flashes down to your lips; you lean in before pulling your mic back up to your lips. his lips smack the tip of your mic.

i’m so sorry for your loss

you turn away giggling, strutting back to the center of the stage. for the split second, you were facing your bandmates; they gave you the smuggest looks. turning back to face the crowd, you could see tara and chad now arguing. his sister and ethan trying to calm them down before security took care of them.

saying your final goodbyes, you start to head backstage. technical assistants scramble around you, removing your mic and earpiece. the rest of your crew getting their instruments set up in their respective cases.

you feel refreshed; getting to see the look of disappointment on chad's face was pure gold. part of you regretted it, but you tried to ignore it. you wanted revenge, and you got it. now you can move on and continue to focus on your career.

i feel so much lighter like a feather with you out of my life

alice talks ⋆ ˚ ꩜ ｡ ⋆୨୧˚

guys it’s so funny i used olivia as my reference and im using a sabrina song. anyway first song fic?? kinda crappy ending srry. first time writing for chad and i made him a cheater like out the jump. i’ll maybe make a part 2!not proof read at all.

[katek3nobi]

𝒟𝒾𝓇𝓉𝓎 𝐵𝑒𝑒𝓇

SUMMARY: Wolffe’s raging possessiveness over you finally comes to fruition after months of pining

(Wolffe xFemReader)

content (💋☘️)

‧˚₊•┈┈┈┈୨୧┈┈┈┈•‧₊˚⊹

Working at 79s was a blessing and a curse. There had been many times where you’d had to call the police droids to break up bar fights, dragging out drunk shinies who got off their face after one drink and the occasional Weequay creep who wouldn’t know how to take no as an answer.

Tonight though, tonight was quiet, well as quiet as 79s could get. the bass boosted music still rumms your ear drums, the pining migraine forming at the back of your head still present as ever, but the clones tonight were tame. Grateful is an understatement. The abrupt slam of the door opening rips you from your thoughts, looking up from the bar counter you see a cluster of what looked to be a bunch of shinies, smug looks painted across their faces and by that look, this was their first time visiting the famous bar. Before you divert your attention back to the task at hand, something catches your way…well someone. His grey armor standing out against the plastoid white, strategic patterns painted across his shoulder pauldrons along with his grey kama hanging off his body. Wolffe. Stolen glances and touches becoming a secret language to you both. The Commander of the 104th had a hold over you and little did you know the feeling went both ways.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you frantically try to act unbothered by his presence, your shaky hands making that difficult as you pour the rank beer into the tall glass.

“first day on the job?”

As your head snaps up your eyes are met with a clone, not one that you’ve seen before either, a shinie. Your thoughts catch up to you as you plast a fake smile across your lips. “no fondly enough” you say through a breathless chuckle. You finish pouring off the glass and slide it across the bar in his direction but before you could pull your hand back, his clasps over yours, preventing you from drawing away. “y’know…you would think that being in a club full of men like me would have you nervous, cyare” oh great. You huff out a chuckle, deciding whether or not to play into his ego, the migraine in the back of your skull having you decide to take the latter. You try to pull your hand back but his clasp only grows stronger. “what? Are you proving me right, beautiful?” he smirks, his hand slowly tracing up the back of your hand to your arm. Heart racing and breath hitching your words start to fail you, his touch making your skin crawl.

And Wolffe saw it all, he saw through your polite but fake mannerisms, he could read you like a book. But through all that, he saw how that rookie was touching you, how his hands wormed up your arm, tainting your skin, infecting your space. He hated it. He bit the inside of his cheek as his heart pumped through his chest, jealousy making his blood hot. Before he knew it, his legs had carried him over to the barstool where the shinie was sitting, back facing him.

“trooper” the shinie whips around, pulling his hand off yours, body stiffening as he looks up at the Commander towering over him, his cybernetic eye pairing the same scowl as his pierce hazel one. “C-Commander” the shinie stuttered, his confident facade now failing him and being replaced with one of fear.

“don’t you have somewhere to be… rookie” The Commander implied, his tone laced with bitterness. The cluster of rouge shinies grouped around a booth near the back of the bar erupts in a loud roar as one seemingly chugs a beer as the others cheered him on. The shinie gulps nervously as he stands to his feet “Sorry Commander, didn’t realise the miss was yours” he stumbles “head out shinie” the Commander spits. The trooper scrambles his way off the barstool, tripping over his feet in the process. Once he’s out of ear shot the Commander turns his attention back to you. Your gaze drifts from the wandering shinie back to Wolffe, his gaze unwavering. Inhaling sharply you try to mask your nervousness, hide the fact that your heart practically goes into overdrive whenever he’s near you let alone looking at you. “thanks” you manage to breathe out, those being the only words that seem to escape your mouth.

“don’t mention it” he grazed, taking the now empty seat, leaning his forearms against the bar. Your gaze stills for a moment too long before reaching to grab the glass you offered the shinie moments before.Not until Wolffe reaches for it at the same time causing your hands to overlap and touch, a spike of adrenaline stuns your spine and squeezes your lungs. Eyes meeting and bodies stiffening, his gaze is once again unwavering. Attempting to at least still the tension you pull your hand back while nervously stuttering “oh you can have it- i mean i can make you something better but if you prefer that then that’s fi-” but before you can finish his hand pulls yours back towards him, rubbing his thumb along your skin. Looking down at his hand clasping yours back up to him you see an unfamiliar expression plastered across his face. “i didn’t like the way that rookie was touching you” Words clog your dry throat as your heart threatens to burst out of your chest. Any coherent thought or sentence seems to vanish, hell your brain itself has short circuited leaving you speechless. you swallow nervously trying to soothe your dry throat before you stutter out “i- uh…it’s fine- i’m fine, happens all the time” you shrug off, your hand still clasped under his. Your words didn’t seem to soothe his mind though, his eyes practically searing scorch marks on ur skin.

He grunts in response, his hold on your hand tightening slightly before letting go reluctantly, your skin starting to crave his absent touch. “and what makes you think i’m fine with it” he retorts. Your breathing becomes shallow as your heart pumps faster and faster, your mouth agape as you try to form a coherent sentence. “c’mere” Wolffe says as he stands up from the barstool, flicking his hand initiating for you to come with him, you place the dirty rag on the edge of the sink that you’ve been mindlessly fidgeting with “Wolffe i can’t, i’ve still got to finish my shift” Now fully stood across the bar counter his gaze once again scorches your skin “i don’t care” his voice stern and fixed.

You take a breath as you match his fixed stare before walking to the edge of the bar, Wolffe following you until you reach the double swinging doors “seriously Wolffe, this better be quick i can’t-” but he grabs your forearm interrupting you, leading you to the back of the bar near the kitchen.

He turns around and grabs you by the shoulders pulling you aside into the back corner, his frame towering over you. “Wolffe?” you breathe out, his chest practically pressed against yours as you look up at him. “Do you know how much I hate seeing those shinies crawling all over you” he breathes out, his face finally sharing a glimpse of genuine emotion, something that isn’t masked, something raw “they practically praise the ground you walk on cyar’ika” the unfamiliar name rolling off his tongue effortlessly, practically turning your knees to jelly “I don't like people touching what is so obviously mine” he growls, the butterflies in your stomach virtually going haywire. “cyare…” he pauses as he leans in, his gaze drifting to your lips before wandering back up to your eyes. “i hate it”

and amongst the jealousy and raging possessiveness, a glimpse of hurt flashes across his face. He reaches his hand up to graze the end of your jaw with his thumb, his touch setting your spine alight. It was the way his voice graveled, how his hand was slowly moving from your jaw to the nape of your neck while his other hand snaked along your waist, subtly pulling the hem of your shirt upwards to trace his fingers along your skin but most of all it was how he was looking at you. His gaze constantly shifting between your eyes and your lips, his expression a mix of raw vulnerability and pure jealousy. “I practically put myself through hell when i come here, seeing how those rookies look at you…they fucking undress you with their eyes” his voice laced with vexation but not towards you, it was towards those ammature shinies that think they could practically coy with you, and that made him mad.

And before you know it Wolffe’s lips are pressed up against your skin as he starts leaving a trail of harsh kisses along the nape your neck. Your breath hitches as you feel his teeth sink into your flesh, the sting being short lived as he soothes the mark with his tongue. You rest your hands on his chest as he continues “fuck cyare” he murmurs in between kisses, both of his hands now gripping your waist, his thumbs caressing your abdomen harshly. “You have no idea” he says before marking your skin again, lazily trailing up to your jaw “what you do to me sweetheart” he murmurs near your ear before pulling back, his voice low and vexing. All words and thoughts have seemingly vanished, your brain a pile of mush as you gaze at the man towering over you. Your faces inches apart, the feeling of his breath hitting your skin only provokes how hot your muscles feel, like feeding oxygen to fire. Wolffe’s lips curl into a soft smirk as he sees how much of an effect he has over you, which unsurprisingly spurs him on even further. His gaze shifts between your lips and back up to your eyes. You wanted him to kiss you, needed him to, your body writhing under his hands, your lungs desperately trying to catch a full breath. Wolffe’s hand reaches up to cup your jaw, his thumb caressing your under eye “let me?” he asks, his brows upturned in need, eyes saying everything that his mouth can’t seem too, want, longing. Rotations of built up pining and craving over you plastered across his face, it infected the blood that ran through his veins and controlled his limbs. Everything he did, everything he said was because of his need for you.

You gaze up at him as you swallow nervously “please” you plead breathlessly, that being all the confirmation he needed as his lips caught yours.

You felt everything and nothing all at once, you felt how his gloved hand held your jaw tilting your head to meet his, how his other hand gripped tightly at the flesh of your hip, how his chapped lips molded against yours. But against all that, your brain buzzed and your body relaxed into his, you felt like you were on cloud 9. The kiss was how you would expect a kiss from Wolffe to be, harsh, chapped, filled with hunger and need but somehow gentle too. He was taking full control just like you imagined the gruff Commander would.

Wolffe too had never felt his mind be so quiet yet loud, no war zone could ever make his body be this full of pure adrenaline, his spine burning with need. Pulling back reluctantly to catch his breath he gazed down at you, your kiss swollen lips and glazed eyes making you that much more beautiful to him.

“You have no idea how long I've needed that” he says breathlessly, his chest heaving as he rests his forehead against yours. Your lips curl into a coy smile before you move the palms of your hands up from his armored chest to the back of his neck, your fingers running through the nape of his hairline “i think i can take a guess” you retort with a brazen smile “oh yeah?” he smirks, his face softly admiring every feature that paints your face. “mmhmm” you hum in response “a long time”. Wolffe chuckles in amusement at the obvious statement “yeah you could say that” he says as he tucks a stray hair behind your ear. You gaze up at him for a moment before tracing your left hand to his jaw, gently rubbing at the scar that paints his under eyes, a reminder that this might not last forever, but knowing Wolffe, not even the darkest sith lord could keep him away from you “don’t die on me anytime soon” your tone laced with sarcasm, but underlying it all you both know that’s a possibility, something neither of you want to admit. He hums in response before saying “even if i were dead cyare i wouldn’t be able to keep my hands off you”

[sadslay]

- PRAYER ⋆☆ 𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐧𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

warnings - very light nswf content

you bare elbows were leant up against the sticky wooden surface with one hand holding onto a clear glass half filled with lemonade and ice while the other played with your cross necklace. music played throughout the bar, but your focus was on the small stage in the corner of the room. the majority of the stage was covered in instruments, a personalised drum kit sitting at the back of the stage with corroded coffin drawn onto the bass drum. you had been going to their shows for a little over six months now, the drummer of the group - gareth - had invited you to their very first show.

you first met gareth in freshmen year at your local church. it was much to your surprise as you had seen him around school and you thought he’d never step foot into a church. and you were right, gareth was there against his will, after days of his mothers incessant begging he had finally caved. admittedly after seeing you in the pews, gareth was glad that he had decided to go. you sat up straight, playing with the fine chain necklace hanging around your neck, your fingers holding onto the silver cross as you slid it back and forth while listening to the pastor. back and forth. back and forth. gareth felt like he could watch you for hours. despite your personality differences, you and gareth became unlikely friends.

now watching gareth setting up his beloved drum almost four years later you couldn’t help but smile. he was just beginning to learn how to play the drums when you had first met him and he was in a band of his own with a few people from school. every second tuesday corroded coffin had their very own spot in the bar downtown. finally the others had walked on stage, their guitars in hand as they joined gareth on stage.

“we’re corroded coffin.” eddie spoke into the microphone, his chunky silver rings reflecting in the light as he held onto the end of the microphone. “we’ve got a couple’a cover songs n’a few originals for you tonight.” he continued, his hand falling away from the microphone to grip onto the neck of the guitar.

looking around the bar to find it almost completely empty with the exception of the town drunks. eddie looked past the lights to find you sitting at the bar, your skirt hiked up as your bare legs were rested on the small bar at the bottom of your stool. you briefly let go of your necklace, the small dainty cross falling to your chest as you waved at gareth. eddie looked back to find gareth eagerly waving back with his drum sticks in his hand.

“lets go.” eddie instructed, his voice muffled as his face was turned away from the microphone.

gareth lifted his hands up in the air, banging his drum sticks together as he cheered, “one! two! three! four!”

eddie began to strum the strings on his guitar while gareth slammed his sticks down onto the drums. almost immediately you recognised the song they had chosen. hotline by black sabbath. your knowledge of heavy metal music was still growing, gareth and eddie suggesting new songs for you to listen to almost every other day. although you could never listen to the music with your parents around as they claimed it was the devils music, you had managed to find time every now and again.

“how’d we do?” gareth asked as he walked towards you, sweat glistening across not only his but all their foreheads.

“great!” you cheered, watching the group pull up chairs to sit around you, gareth sitting to your right while eddie sat to your left. “a lot of black sabbath tonight.” you noted, taking a sip of your drink before placing it on the bar behind you.

“didn’t think you’d show angel.” eddie chuckled, his eyes tracing up and down your figure. “not after daddy caught you.” he teased.

“well daddy thinks i’m at bible study.” you retorted, barely looking eddie in the eye before turning your focus back to others.

“you dress like that for bible study?” jeff chuckled, looking to the other boys as they laughed at his comment.

“bite me.” you retorted, their laughter only growing.

eddie leant closer you, his breath tickling your ears as he leant in to whisper, “i think he’d like that angel, i know i would.” he teased before pulling away.

you playfully nudged into his shoulder before listening to the group as they began to dissect their performance. eddie was the first person gareth had introduced you to. from the moment he had laid eyes on you he knew that one day he’d have you screaming his name. he wanted to make you his. but much to his disappointment after years of mutual flirtation, he had gotten no where, absolutely fucking no where. but tonight he felt lucky.

“i’ve gotta head off.” you mentioned, finishing off the last part of your drink before turning back to the others.

“d’you need a ride home?” eddie asked, momentarily looking around at the others before turning back to you.

“sure, but you are parking at the end of the street.” you bargained, standing up from your seat, the pale pink skirt falling down to cover the majority of your thighs.

“sure thing angel.” he shrugged, watching you as you bent down slightly to give gareth a hug goodbye.

eddie watched as you hugged gareth, slightly wobbling side to side as gareths hands loosely draped around your waist.

“come on, i don’t have all night.” eddie groaned, standing up from his seat.

you scoffed at eddie’s comment before saying the rest of your goodbyes to the others before following eddie out to the car park where his van had been parked all afternoon.

“you really want me to park at the end of your block?” eddie asked, a breathy laugh leaving his lips as he unlocked his car.

“yes!” you insisted. “my dad thinks you’re apart of some cult n’he’d send me to pennhurst if he knew i was hangin’ out with you guys.” you explained, jumping into the front seat of eddies van.

“oh won’t you save a prayer for me angel.” eddie teased, sliding the keys into the ignition before starting the engine.

“shut up!” you groaned. your hands immediately drawn the stereo system as you began tried to find the desired tape.

it was a solid twenty minute drive back to your house as you lived on the edge of town. as you got comfortable for the trip, you found yourself looking at eddie’s hands. on of them gripped onto the steering wheel - his finger tapping along to the beat of the song - the viens on the back of his hand, leading down to his forearm were more prominent then usual. you had assumed it was from dehydration as he usually didn’t drink much water to begin with but with practice it meant he drank even less.

you were so focused on watching eddie’s hand in the steering wheel you didn’t notice his other hand inching towards your thigh until it was too late. your eyes ripped from the steering wheel to find his other hand gently resting on your thigh. you looked back up, this time looking at his face to see his eyes focusing on the road. he seemed so tense and worried you’d push away his hand or say some sly comment like you had in the past, but you just let it happen. as he got more comfortable, his thumb drawing idle circles onto your exposed flesh. it was actually kind of nice.

but before you knew it, eddie was pulling over at the end of your block, turning off the engine before turning to face you, his hand still gently resting on your thigh. the silence was comfortable, which was common between you and eddie but there was something about tonight that felt different.

“thanks for inviting me tonight.” you smiled, turning your torso to face eddie a little more, your chest on full display causing eddie’s eyes to quickly dart down before focusing on your eyes.

“no problem angel.” he smirked. “you’re my good luck charm.” eddie added, inching himself closer to you causing a smile to creep onto your lips.

“good luck charm?” you teased, eddie rolling his eyes as he scoffed at your mockery. “good night ed’s.” you smiled.

you moved in closer, eddie’s heart going a millions miles a minute. it was really gonna happen and it wasn’t some stupid dare or party trick.

“okay, i dare you to go pick up one of those losers on the bench and ask ‘em to dance.” your friend teased, lifting her hand to motion towards the bench across the gymnasium where a small cluster of kids sat alone. “i’ll even give you bonus points if you ned a kiss.” she added.

“no way!” you frowned, looking over at the group. “look how sad they all look.” you pouted, folding your arm to cover your chest.

“that exactly why you should go over!” she whined, desperate for any amount of drama.

“i dunno.” you shrugged, pinching your eyebrows together as you began to play with the little cross pendant. “isn’t that kinda mean?”

“it’s totally mean.” she giggled, taking a sip of punch that had been supplied by the school. “okay, you can’t just chicken out.” she groaned.

“fine! fine!” you huffed, letting go of your necklace as your hands fell to their side. “you owe me asshole.” you muttered, parting ways from your friend and walking across the gymnasium approaching the group of boys.

students filled the dance floor what was typically a basketball court. you pushed your way through the crowds of people before stopping a few feet away from the small group of people your friend had pointed to. then you noticed gareth.

“hey gareth.” you chimmed, flashing him a smile before looking at his friends sitting by his sides.

“hey y/n.” he grinned, the others looking at him as if he were crazy. “guys this is y/n.” he introduced.

a mixture of hi and hello came from the other twk boys. the idea of asking gareth to dance was easy enough, you could dance as friends all while getting your other friend off your back about being a prude just because you go to church with your family. but then your eyes landed on someone you had briefly seen throughout the school yard before.

“this is jeff and eddie.” gareth added, pointing to each boy as he said their names.

“we thought you weren’t real.” eddie laughed, a downturned smile creeping onto your lips. “gareth doesn’t shut up about you.” he added.

“shut up!” he hissed, nudging eddie’s side.

“it’s alright gareth. you’re secrets safe with me.” you smirked, flashing him a flirtatious wink. “hey, d’one of you guys wanna dance?“ you asked.

their jaws all fell slack. you stood there, your hands held behind your back as you rocked back and forth on the balls of your feet.

“ya-you wanna danthe with uth?” jeff asked, almost surprising you as you were unaware of his speech impediment.

“yeah sure.” you shrugged, taking one of your hands to begin playing with the little cross on your necklace. “so who’s gonna dance with me?” you asked again.

“i’ll go.” eddie spoke up, his voice almost sound nervous as he stood up.

“sweet.” you grinned, grabbing onto eddies hand before pulling him towards the centre of the basketball court. “see ya gareth!” you cheered before turning your focus back to eddie who was following, his rings cooling your warm skin.

you stopped once you reached the centre of the floor, in view of your pressuring friend who was snickering with a few other girls in your grade. you took eddies second hand and placed his hands on your waist. with the bright colourful lights it was a little hard to see why eddie could feel his cheeks warming.

“i’ve gotta tell ya i can’t dance.” eddie laughed at himself, his eyes never leaving yours.

“neither can i.” you giggled, resting your hands on his shoulders.

“then why ask someone to dance?” eddie teased, following your lead as you swayed to the rhythm of the music.

you let out a sigh, “my friend didn’t think i could.” you admitted. “she think’s i’m a prude.” you frowned.

“a prude?” he scoffed. “she doesn’t sound like a good friend.” eddie noted.

“oh i wouldn’t exactly call her a friend. i just hang out with her to make my parents happy.” you noted. “gareth’s probably my only friend.” you laughed.

“that schmuck?” eddie teased, earning a giggled from you. “well, you can hang out with us any time.”

“thanks eds.” you grinned, eddie smiling at the new nickname.

in a moment of panic, you quickly leant forward giving eddie a kiss on his cheek.

as you inched closer to eddie. you could feel his breath on your lip as the gap between you grew less and less. an almost devilish smirk crept onto eddie’s face seconds you closed the gap between you, pressing your lips against his. just as you went to pull away, planning on keeping it short and sweet, eddie’s hand moved from your thigh to your waist, pulling you closer to him.

finally. it had finally happened and it was better then eddie could have ever imagined. you placed your hand on eddies chest, planning to push away but you couldn’t. instead your fingers clung onto his shirt, pulling him closer. as much as you found eddie painfully annoying, so painfully, gorgeous, annoying. but after what felt like an entire life time you both pulled away completely breathless. your hand was still resting onto his chest, you could feel his heart beat before remembering his hand was tightly gripping onto your waist.

“do you have any idea how long i’ve wanted to do that?” eddie asked, a soft chuckle leaving his lips.

you let out a laugh, your hand sliding down his chest, briefly brushing by his stomach before resting your hand on the top of his thigh.

“my dad’s gonna kill me.” you whispered, letting out s breathy laugh as eddie’s hand connected to the base of your neck, his rings sending goosebumps over your skin.

definitely proof read ;)

jk as if

[tnt-dynomite]

MORE Prime Defenders Band AU head cannons

- Ashe has a room in the house just like his dad but for his music, writing and recording

- Ashes room holds three gorgeous guitars he loves deeply but will never replace his prized bass

- Vyncents mom tried to teach him to play the harp,, it wasn't the best attempt but he bought a miniature one to practice whenever he misses home

- In Fauna Vyncent has a large collection of handcrafted instruments and when they went snagged a few to bring back to his new home

- Dakotas parents put him in drum lessons when he was little, he's sort of a pro :))

- Dakota is also learning keyboard from Vyncent, he's very excited

- Dakota wants to learn a wind instrument eventually but shhhh it's a secret

- William was a classics kid, his brother taught him the cello and he played it in his school orchestra program

- William also played the organ at his church before he stopped going in DeadWood

- David accidentally damaged Wills old acoustic guitar when slamming a door in an argument so he only has an electric guitar now

[bunni-writing-desk]

Can I request a Patrick Stump x Reader where the reader wants to learn how to play drums? Patrick notices them struggling and wants to help. Make it fluffy and flirty? THANK YOU!

ooooo thank you so much for this request I love it! (also sorry is Patrick is a little off I couldn't figure out how to write him as flirty for the life of me)

Learning Drums

Patrick Stump x gn!reader

tags: no major warnings, fluffy silly, established relationship, light flirting from Patrick kinda, could be any era, reminded me of that one time Patrick played the drums for MCR

The dusty basement in your house held so much stuff, things from Patrick and things from you, so it was no wonder you had found one of your boyfriend's old drum kits. A pair of drumsticks sat atop the seat, obviously left there for a while since a layer of dust covered them. A thought crossed your mind, questioning why this one was in the basement when Patrick had another perfectly fine kit upstairs in his practice room. You shrugged it off though, it might be something sentimental or there just in case his current one breaks.

The more you stared at it the more you thought about it, when you were younger you had always wanted to learn the drums but the kits were always far too expensive for you. The want to learn the instrument had died after the years, and you had been satisfied listening to Patrick play them instead, but now you had a moment to learn on your own.

So you brushed the dust off the seat and grabbed the drumsticks, holding them above one of the drums. Suddenly and quickly you hit the drum, nearly letting go of the drumstick because of the force. You gasped and looked at the thin plastic on the top to make sure you hadn't dented it, luckily it looked completely fine.

Something you hadn't expected was for Patrick to hear you all the way upstairs in the living room. The sound of the basement door creaking open startled you, making you jump in your seat slightly. "Y/n? What are you doing?" You could see that your boyfriend was squinting, trying to see where you were in the dim basement.

"Just... trying to play the drums?" You posed your sentence as more of a question, now second guessing yourself as to why you did this. Patrick stared into the darkness for a few seconds before audible sighing and chuckling. He flipped on the light and made his way down the stairs, walking over to the front of the dusty drum kit that you were sitting at.

"Did you want help?" The grin on his face compared to the Cheshire cat, smug and self-assured. Just that by itself made you flustered, stumbling over your words as you tried to respond.

"Uhm- Yeah, I- I was gonna figure it out by my - uh- by myself but yknow- I could always use the uhm help?" Your face went warm as Patrick giggled at your reaction. He motioned for you to get up and stand to the side, instead of taking your place on the seat.

"Come're" He pulled one of the drumsticks from your grip and held your hand. He quickly pulled you down onto his lap, almost startling you. "You were just using too much downward force with too light a grip, makes it sound strange." Patrick put the drumsticks back in you hand but continued to hold your wrists.

He lead your hand down to the mid tom drum and hit it once, making a much better sound than the first time you tried. "See? You just needed a little help huh, babe" You could feel the heat on your cheeks from the embarrassment flare up again.

"Shut it, 'Trick" You mumbled through your teeth, trying to prevent him from hearing just how flustered you were. You slammed your foot down on the pedal, hitting the bass drum loudly.

Patrick only laughed and wrapped his arms around your torso. "Woah there tiger, don't get ahead of yourself!"

"Teach me then!" You managed out through laughter.

"I am!"