#don't @ me about their nasty ass boots on the couch

[shadow0-1]

Day off

[mrsarcherofinfamy]

●Bron Breakker x Reader●

Summary: You are a NXT wrestler. Ava suggests that Bron come talk to you about accompanying him to the ring.

_________________________________________

Slinging my leather jacket over my shoulder, I walk into my locker room, seeing Bron Breakker standing there talking on the phone. The camera man is standing in the doorway. I set my bag and jacket on the couch. He looks over at me.

"Yeah. She just got here. Yup. See ya later."

I walk up to him looking up at him.

"Who was that and why are you here?"

"It was Ava. She suggested that I come talk to your gorgeous self."

He runs his hand along my jawline and I make a confused face looking at him.

"Why?"

"I need someone to accompany me to the ring tonight against Josh Briggs with Fallon Henley."

I look up at him and smirk.

"I thought you hated me?"

I put my hand on his chest looking up at him smirking.

"Things... change..."

He mumbles trying not to blush. I giggle looking up at him.

"You're cute when you don't want to admit things out loud, you know that? Go on, just say you love me."

He grabs my waist, pulling me into him and his face is inches away from my face.

"Good work guys. That's a wrap."

The camera guy yells but me and Bron stay as we are staring into each other's eyes. The camera guys grab their stuff and leave. I smirk looking up at him and he lets go of my waist still looking into my eyes.

"Was that just for TV or are you really interested in me?"

I cross my arms looking up at him. He smirks, running his fingers along my jawline again.

"I have been interested in you since you first started in NXT."

"Really? What was so interesting?"

"Well, for starters, you are amazing in the ring. We have very similar wrestling styles. Second, you in your leather jacket."

He does a chef's kiss, looking at me. I laugh, blushing looking away from him.

"And third, you work really hard and have a lot of passion for pro wrestling."

"Thank you Bron. That means a lot. Off topic, but can I kick Fallon's ass tonight?"

"Duh babycakes!"

I giggle, looking away feeling my face turning red at the flirty name.

"Let me go get changed."

"Here. Take this."

He throws me a blue "I got that dog in me" shirt. I catch it and shake my head walking into the bathroom. I change into jeans, his shirt which I cut up into a crop top, and some black leather platform boots. I let my hair down out of my ponytail and shake it a little. I walk out of the bathroom seeing Bron sitting on the couch, on his phone.

"How does this look?"

He looks up at me, drops his phone out of his hand, his eyes go wide and his jaw drops.

"You look.... amazing."

"Thank you."

"God damn."

He stands up and walks over to me.

"What?"

"God damn, I am a lucky man."

He pulls me to him by my waist and I giggle putting my hands on his chest. There is a knock on the door than a producer yells that we have 2 minutes. Bron grabs my hand and we walk out of the locker room heading to gorilla. We get there waiting for Josh and Fallon to finish making their entrance. His music hits as we walk out to the ramp and down to the ring.

_________________________________________

*nearing the end of the match*

Bron hits Josh with a nasty spear and goes for the cover. Fallon climbs in the ring, trying to break up the pin but I climb in and hit her with a nasty spear as well. The ref hits the mat three times and Bron gets the win. I walk over to him, grabbing his wrist and holding it up in victory. He looks over at me smirking.

"That spear you just did was so hot. You gotta keep doing it."

I giggle looking up at him. He grabs my face and kisses me infront of everyone. I kiss him back wrapping my arms around his neck as he wraps his arms around my waist. The crowd starts going crazy as the show ends with us kissing in the middle of the ring.

The End 🫶

[https-florals]

Hi! Sorry for the late reply, but my requests was maybe boot riding with JJ? If you know what that is! Because he has those one shiny rubber looking boots that make me go crazy

ooh hehehehe i think i like this!!! i honestly did not know what this was and had to go on a little ao3 deep dive so im hoping this is what you wanted!! (also i am SO SORRY this took so long omg) 18+!!

note: fluff then smut!! cursing, jj being a dork at the beginning, but then being a SLUT! i heart slutty men. obviously boot riding, lil unsanitary but whatever, oral m receiving. i went kind of a funny little beginning route with this cause i wasn't real sure how to like transition into it and i don't even know if it really works but!! oh well

your favorite part of jj's wardrobe is his boots. you don't have a damn clue what it is about that beat up pair of timberlands, but they're so very attractive on him. on the rare occasion that he cleans them, you're the first to know.

he's walking into your room, grinning all proud. "good as new." the leather shines, worn but finally clean, a little bit of life back into them.

"they look great, baby!" you tell him as he leans over to kiss you. he smells like boot cleaner and the cologne you saved up to buy him. jj plops onto the couch next to you, stretching his legs out to admire his handiwork a little longer.

"sexy ass pair of boots," he says to himself, and he catches you murmuring in agreement. "you think my boots are sexy?" he asks, all faux innocence as his hand spans your thigh.

"i think you're sexy," you answer as you close the book you're reading.

he shakes his head. "not what i asked."

sighing, you raise your eyebrows and give him a disapproving look. "what are you asking then, maybank?"

"would you fuck me if i had the boots on?" when your expression turns more quizzical, he backtracks. "like, just boots on. titanic style, except that big necklace is my boots. would you find it hot enough to fuck me?"

"all you ever think about is sex!" you gasp, hitting him playfully with your book. "and what the hell are you talking about?" you're laughing now. "i think i'd rather you have boots on while we’re fucking. you think i wanna see your nasty feet?" as you giggle, jj pulls you into his lap and peppers a hundred little kisses along your neck and jawline, making you squirm and giggle even more.

"so you'd be down?"

"i'd be down, j."

the next day it's just the two of you in the chateau, and you're holed up in the guest room, scrolling on your phone. you're wrapped up in a tshirt of jj's, and nothing else on this hot summer day. there's a knock on your door, and you don't look up as you invite whoever it is inside your room. you just know it's jj, and as you stare at some tiktok about a new hbo show, he clears his throat impatiently.

"what?" you're confused as to why he's not talking or coming to flop on top of you. "why are you- oh." you look up.

jj, your lovable, odd, incredibly bold boyfriend is standing completely naked in front of you- naked save a pair of black socks and clean boots, laced up tight and looking good as ever.

he grins, and laughs a little crazily as your jaw drops in pure shock. he still doesn't say anything, but rather lets you sit back and admire him.

and believe me, that you do. you stare at the muscles of his shoulders and stomach, how thick his thighs are. the dark dirty blond patch of hair just south of his abs. you watch him get hard, just off of the way your eyes are raking over him. "happy to see me?" you laugh as you drop your phone.

he blushes a little, like he's not standing bare-ass naked in front of you. "always."

you get up and practically skip over to him. when you wrap your arms around him and his hands travel to your ass, he breathes in quick at the skin to skin contact, eternally grateful for the lack of panties. his breath is even quicker when your hand slips over him. he lets out a little groan.

“what do you want, baby?” you ask.

he exhales hard, pushing into your hand. “want your mouth on me, please,” he’s pleading, and how can you say no when jj’s looking so pretty?

he doesn’t stop kissing you as you force him backward, pushing him into your chair. he huffs, a little angry when you pull away, but when you settle between his legs, he’s not whining anymore. well, whining for separate reasons.

you lay just the sweetest, most innocent little kiss on the tip of his cock and can't help but giggle when he gasps.

"baby, baby, baby," tumbles past his lips when you take him in your mouth. jj's hand wraps in your hair, letting you set your own pace, and slowly matching it. when you look up at him, a hint of smile in your gaze, jj feels like his chest is going to explode. he whimpers, his hand moving from the back of your head to your cheek. his thumb brushes a string of saliva off your chin, pushing a bit to hit the back of your throat.

warmth is pooling between your legs, practically unbearable as you watch jj. a vein in his neck pulses when his head tilts back, and your pussy seems to throb simultaneously with his jugular.

your hand leaves its place on his thigh and dips between your legs, a finger swiping up your seam and-

jj kicks your hand away.

you pull off him so fast that you practically give yourself whiplash. "jj! what the fuck!"

he's shushing you, hand on the back of your head. "come on, baby, just finish one job. alright?"

you whine, but go back to tracing his cock with your tongue anyways.

his boot wedges it's way between your legs, ruining the way you're pressing them together. jj can feel the vibrations in your throat of your protest.

the hard rubber sole scrapes against the inside of your thigh and your breathing hitches. the toe of his boot just brushes your folds, and before you can even think about what you're doing, you push yourself down against the leather.

"atta girl," he says, voice low and rough. jj moves his foot as you begin to rock onto the boot, matching the way your hips tilt and press. “fuck me, taking it so good.”

jj doesn't think he's ever been more turned on in his life. his beautiful girl, hair messy and lips swollen, a few tears running down your cheeks as you suck him off. crying as you make a mess all over his favorite pair of timberlands. "shit, m'gonna come," he cries, proving his word when his cock twitches hard. you get a little sloppier, thumb tucked in a fist to fight off your gag reflex as he hits the back of your throat, again, again.

he's practically sobbing when he comes, the thick liquid coating your throat as you swallow quick. you turn your full attention to getting yourself off, tilting your head back and letting a stream of curses fall past your lips as you grind your clit against the hard toe of his boot. your fingers dig into the flesh of his thighs, keeping yourself steady as the knot in your stomach winds tighter, and tighter.

he’s still catching his breath, but he’s already half-hard again, and he palms himself as you ride his boot. the little hiss he makes is proof he’s still a little too sensitive. “shit baby, look at you,” he groans, and starts to pull you up but you smack his thigh.

“don’t fucking move,” you snap, the toe of his boot hitting your clit so perfectly as you grind into it. “i’m so close, jj, and i swear to god if you ruin my orgasm, i’ll cut your dick off.”

his eyes go wide at your words, and he instinctively covers his cock (which is already throbbing again). jj strokes his cock once, then twice, then faster as you bounce yourself against his timberland.

“look at you, making a mess all over my boots. i just fucking cleaned ‘em, mama.” he angles his foot a little more up.

you cry, the threads at the edge of your orgasm starting to fray. “jj, please-“

“perfect little slut,” he whines, as you grip his knees and start to tip over the edge.

your orgasm hits you like a truck, jj pushing his boot up to hit the much-too sensitive bundle of nerves before your legs close instinctively. he cums all over his hand a few seconds later.

he’s wrinkling his nose and wiping his hand off on the side of your tshirt as you stand, a little shaky.

“i think that was possibly the sexiest thing that has ever happened to me,” he comments as you fall into his lap.

“that why you came so fast the second time?” you smile, pressing a kiss to his jawline.

he blows a raspberry against your neck, and then kicks up his foot to look at the mess on his boot.

“damn.” there’s your slick, practically running off in droplets. “polished it up real nice,” jj laughs.

your cheeks tint a little red, but you’re grinning. “maybe i should make a shoe shine business.”

“absolutely not.”

you’re both laughing your asses off when you hear the screen door of the chateau smack open, and john b yell, “get your clothes on, assholes! We’re back!”

you finally both stumble out, a little disheveled, but with no stains visible. except for the glaring, still-damp sheen on the toe of jj’s boot.

you act like nothing’s going on as you enter the kitchen with the girls, but that doesn’t stop you from overhearing.

“dude, you clean your boots?” pope asks, his voice carrying from the living room.

“only one of ‘em,” john b answers. “look man, that one’s super shiny and the other is just… not.”

you choke back a laugh when jj answers, acting all surprised. “shit, man, i got distracted and only did one! babe!” he calls you, and you yell back.

“yeah?”

you can hear the laughter in his voice when he says, “need your help polishin’ this other boot!”

everyone’s a little confused when you both dissolve into a fit of giggles.

likes, comments, and reblogs are always greatly appreciated!!!

[donutloverxo]

Spoiled

Kinktober day 5 - Mirror sex

*gif is not mine*

Note - this is a bit of a rushed job. Because while I like August I didn't want to end the year on him lol. It has to be our husband. Thank you so so much for all the support and love all of you have shown me this past year, it's serves as a great motivation for me. I have a resolution of writing 200k in the next year so hopefully there's a lot more hoeness and happiness this coming year for us all. Love y'all❤

This is the last part and sequel to past self and messed up. Dividers by @whimsicalrogers.

Warnings - 18+ only, Smut (m/f), daddy kink, light anal play, hints to threesomes, jealous Steve, cum play, rough sex, general nastiness.

Pairing - Steve Rogers x reader

Word count - 2k

“I am so tired. I mean time travelling is fun and all but sooo exhausting,” you mumbled into the pillow as you laid face flat on your bed. The soft plush mattress providing some much needed comfort to your sore muscles.

After the snap both you and Steve had moved into a brownstone in Brooklyn, it was much smaller than your quarters in the compound but you never really liked having that much of a distance from him anyway.

Even if you weren’t doing anything, you’d prefer to do nothing with him. Just lounging around on like a couple of couch potatoes.

It was hard for him to not have much to do. With half the world gone and the Avengers broken up he spent most of his days volunteering and leading therapy groups. Telling others to move on, that’s what their loved ones would want for them, while not being able to do so himself. Blaming himself for everything that had happened.

He told you that having all that free time made his mind go to dark places, thinking of his past, of all the lives that he wasn’t able to save. And after years of denying that he needed any, he decided to go to therapy.

They were a tough few years. But everything was fine now. As fine as it could be. His friends were back, you joked about how Bucky and Tony had matching cyborg arms now, he laughed at that but they didn’t. There was still plenty of hostility there, he didn’t exactly expect them to become ‘bffs', as you’d called it, hopefully they’d learn to get along.

He unzipped your boots, pulling them off and massaging your feet, listening to you babble nonsense about all your theories about time travel.

He always called you his sunshine. It was an apt petname for you, you brought light into his life, you were his light at the end of the tunnel. After years of being alone, it was as if he was waiting for you all along.

While you had your share of breakdowns during those five years, lots of fights with him because you wanted to move on and not be stuck in the past. He agreed with you, he didn’t want to be stuck, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t give up on those he loved.

You were always there for him. His only solace during those dark times.

He had changed a lot, when he met you he was still the Captain, then he was on the run, living in shady motels and not knowing who the fuck he was.

He became a bit more melancholic after the snap, the whole world did, a lot needier for you and your attention and love. Because he was so grateful you weren’t gone.

If you had... he wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

He knew it annoyed you because even though you loved him, that he didn’t doubt one bit, you also liked your independence. But he’ll always need you way more than you need him.

“Sunshine?” he called for your attention, his hands now moving up to your calves, applying just the little bit of pressure.

You giggled, looking over your shoulder to him as you felt your face heat up, “I swear, Steve, you’re so cheesy.”

“Do you...” he cleared his throat and then shook his head, it was stupid of him to even think something like that much less verbally express it to you.

You turned around, laying flat on your back, “What?”

“It’s silly,” he pressed his lips in a thin line.

“I don’t care, you still have to tell me. Come on,” you lightly kicked your legs which were on his lap.

“Do you ever wish... you were with someone closer to your age.”

He couldn’t look at you, even after all these years of being together he couldn’t be completely vulnerable--a life of rejection making him anticipate the worst.

“Why would you say that?” you sat up, cupping his cheek with your hand.

“I don’t know,” he shrugged.

It wasn’t just that you were younger, almost everyone was younger compared to him, but you had a young soul that would never grow old.

And he... he was no fun sometimes, how long would it take for you to grow tired of him. Did just you like the thrill of being on the run? When he was more edgier and rougher than he is now.

“I could never even imagine being with anyone but you,” you assured him.

He scoffed, “Didn’t seem like that when you were with him.”

“Oh, you mean ‘you'?” you cocked your head to the side, feigning innocence.

You knew how jealous your fawning over his past self’s beard had made him. To be honest, you would lose your shit if he acted that way towards any other woman, even if said woman was a version of you.

He shook his head, “Forget I said anything.”

“Wait,” you cupped his cheek, making him look at you, “You’re so jelly and needy sometimes, daddy.”

He bit the inside of his as you knelt on the floor before him, parting his legs, your hands fumbling with his belt but he stopped you by holding onto your wrists.

“We should get cleaned up...” he half heartedly tried to stop you but you managed to pull all his straps open and take his hardening erection out of his pants.

“We probably should...” you hummed, “But I guess I need to show daddy how much I love him,” peaking out your tongue to circle his leaking tip.

“I know you love me, sweetheart, but I just worry sometimes if I’m too old fashioned for you?” he wondered, letting out a shuddering moan as you took him in your mouth, looking up at him with your wide innocent eyes--always so full of life.

You swallowed around him, moaning at the familiar taste and scent of him, taking him deeper till he hit the back of your throat.

Steve being old fashioned did bother you a little at times. Not the part where he was an absolute gentleman, always holding the door open for you, paying for your dates. But where he always wanted to be the one protecting you. Taking care of you. Which was good, but he needs some loving too.

“Swallow it all, honey,” he instructed as he held your head down, his spend coating the back of your throat as you followed his command like a good girl.

Opening your mouth and holding out your tongue, “I did it, daddy,” you proclaimed proudly.

He prodded at your mouth with his fingers, under your tongue, to make sure that you got all of it, “Good girl,” he smiled as you suckled on his fingers, “you always need to have your mouth stuffed, honey, don’t you?”

You only nodded, letting out a pathetic whine when he pulled his fingers out with a loud pop.

“Let’s go shower, honey,” he said but then frowned when you shook your head.

“Are you done already? That’s it?” Don't say it, don’t... “Got another one in ya?”

You knew you were digging your own grave, of Steve wanted you he could literally fuck you for days, you had tried to ‘test' that on your honeymoon. To see who would give out first, your poor pussy or his unyielding supersoldier stamina.

Obviously he won and you were never able to complete your little experiment.

He gave you a fake sweet smile, dripping with--so much malice which was so not Steve. Gripping your hair he yanked you back to bare your neck to him, his other hand tracing your pulse point before wrapping around your neck, applying the slightest bit of pressure - because you were precious, he’d never want to actually hurt you, “I was going to make love to you in the shower, sweetheart.” he squeezed tighter as you choked, wrapping your tiny hands around his wrist, “But then you had to go and say that. What should we do with you?” he mused.

“Fuck me?” you sassed, while making love sounded nice, you would much rather have a good dicking down.

“No, you have to learn your lesson, honey. I maybe older but it only makes me better. I’ll have to show you I guess,” he tutted.

Hauling you up, with his hands under your arms, he manhandled you till you both stood before the dressing mirror you had gotten a few months ago, pressing your cheek against its cool surface as he worked on the seams of your cat suit.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time,” he confessed, ever since you had bought the large mirror, he liked to watch you as he took you apart in it, sometimes making you look, somehow that seemed to suck all your sass and feistiness and you’d just turn into a shy flustered mess in his arms, refusing to look at the mirror or at him.

Which would only fuel his lust, because he still had the ability to surprise you, even after he’d seen all of you. Felt all of your caverns, and you, intimately and knew them like the back of his hand.

“Never really got the opportunity to, now’s good a time as any, wouldn’t you agree?” he nibbled at the shell of your ear, smirking as you weakly nodded.

“You’re so good at doing what you’re told.” He pressed a kiss to your hair, kneeling behind you to rid you of your tight pants before burying his head between your legs.

Nudging your intimate lips apart with the lip of his tongue, “You’re already soaked, honey,” he observed, licking his lips to savor your taste before prodding at your second hole with his tongue, just so he could hear you gasp.

“Steve!” you exclaimed, not expecting that. While Steve was more of an ass man, he never wanted to fuck you or even touch you there. But after a lot of course convincing from your side he had to give in.

He bit the flesh of your buttocks before speaking against it, “Since you like having all your holes stuffed, maybe I should call Bucky to help me out sometime...”

“Really?!” you perked up, looking down at him over your shoulder.

He didn’t give you an answer, instead fucking you with his tongue tillyou were quivering around him, crying out loud, as the mirror fogged up.

“Bucky’s nice...” you mumbled incoherently as he rose to his feet, his nails digging into your hips as he picked you up till you were standing on your top toes to meet his height. Sheathing his hard length inside you in one firm thrusts as he stayed still to let you get used to him.

“Hm. Am I not nice?” you saw him frown behind in his reflection, “I buy you whatever you want. Give you whatever you want, don’t I? Apparently it’s not enough for you. You’re getting too spoiled, I need to start saying no,” he drove each word home with hard thrusts, his tip kissing your cervix, his warm breath brushing the back of your neck.

“NOOO,” you whined, tears streaming down your face at such an outrageous prospect. Steve never said no to you. Not even when you literally asked for a threesome with his past self. “I was saying...” You tried to say but moaned as he pinched your clit, trying to jerk away from him but his firm hold on you made it impossible. “That he’s nice...” you panted, “Slow down, please!”

He hummed to make a show of thinking about it but then fastened his pace, twisting your clit between his fingers as he watched your face in the mirror.

“No.”

“He’s nice.... but he’s not you,” you wailed, clenching around him as your climax washed over you.

He had to hold onto your waist, so you wouldn’t collapse on your shaky leg, he smiled, “That’s very touching, doll.” He said.

“’is the truth.”

“I wouldn’t mind sharing it with Bucky though. He knows you’re mine.” Unlike a certain someone who was dumb enough to think he had any claim on you, “Can you hold for me?” he asked as you nodded.

Planting your hands against the mirror you braced yourself as he fucked you from behind, filling you up to the brim with his warmth.

“Okay then. You wouldn’t find me kicking him out of my bed...” you giggled.

[elitespacefreak]

Okay here me out... praise kink...

I get so fucking turned on by the idea of going down on zim. While he's grabbing the back of your head, telling you what to do and moving your head just the way he likes it, he praises you simultaneously while in the middle of his own moans. "That's it baby, don't stop." "You're such a good girl for Zim, aren't you?"

AGTWHWHJRHDKSH it gets me every time 😩

OOOOOOHHH FUCK YEAH SON. He’s the only man I’ve ever enthusiastically wanted to suck off, so get ready for some good dirty talk, face fucking, and a little bit of bondage and power play while he tells you how good you are for him~

I’m on mobile so there is no cut, just scroll really fast if you don’t want to have to douse yourself in holy water after this lmao.

—

You heard his footsteps behind you, the sound of his boots giving you chills. As you stood facing the couch with your hands at your sides, feet slightly apart, goosebumps crawled along your bare legs. He’d left you in your underwear and cardigan, just so he could see your skin prickle and flush. The thought made you swallow thickly.

He stopped just behind you, a quiet satisfactory growl vibrating low in his throat. “Wider,” he said, nudging your feet a few more inches apart with the tip of his boot. When you complied he leaned in to place a chaste kiss against your neck. “Good girl.”

Those two simple words made your shoulders twitch and navel clench. When you sensed him kneel down behind you you tried not to look, you knew he’d tut you for it. His fingers ghosted across your flesh as he buckled cuffs to your thighs, making you sigh and loll your head back. As he tugged them tight you found yourself biting your lip.

“Good?”

You nodded, “Mhmm~”

There was a pause, and you realized too late he hadn’t accepted your non-verbal answer. He stood slowly, the palm of his hand trailing up the back of your right leg before firmly swatting your ass. “You want to try that again?”

Your toes dug into the floor upon impact, and a small grunt died in your throat, masked by the clap. “Yes, Sir.”

He purred against your ear, “That’s better.” Once he gave you another kiss, this time on the cheek, he kneeled again. Two matching cuffs were affixed to your wrists, and this time when he asked if they were too tight you responded appropriately.

For a few seconds, when he hadn’t made a move to stand back up, you wondered if he was just enjoying the view. But when he fastened your wrist and thigh cuffs together, pinning your hands at your sides, your heart skipped several beats.

When he stood back up this time he brushed his lips against the back of your neck. He liked watching you try and keep your composure. And as he walked around to face you directly, he kept a gloved finger delicately grazing your skin as he watched your face. The way your eyes fluttered and skin prickled inspired a wicked twinkle in his eye.

He raised a hand and cupped your chin, making you look at him as he caressed your lips with his thumb. The anticipation of his actions made your lips part, and he seized the opportunity, pressing his thumb against your tongue and guiding you down to your knees.

You kneeled obediently, pressing your knees together to sit comfortably inside his own stance. When he let go you swallowed thickly, shyly holding eye contact and resisting the urge to watch his hand. He leaned in close, and you could feel the tightness in your chest growing, stoping only when you could feel his warm breath against your cheek. Suddenly his fingers were tangled in your hair and he held you steady, making you clench your thighs. A wetness grew between your legs, and you knew he could smell it.

“Who do you belong to?” He waited a beat.

You swallowed and fluttered your lashes. “You, Sir.”

“And how can I be so sure?”

Your skin grew hot around your chest and your cheeks flushed in kind. “Because I’m a good girl.”

He hummed, unsatisfied. “Prove it.”

The hand gripping your hair never loosened, and as he stood back up to his full height you felt the exchange of power heavily between you. He didn’t wait to hear a response, eagerly guiding you to press firmly between his legs as he growled deep in his chest.

You could feel his arousal squirm gently under the fabric of his pants, growing tighter as the blood rushed to his erection. When he commanded you to undo his zipper your lips found it quickly and you nuzzled into him as the bulge of his cock pressed against your cheek. When you looked back up at him expectantly he stepped away and sat squarely on the couch, beckoning you forward.

Slick glistened against his cock as he sat and watched you drink him in. He could see in your eyes how much you hated not being able to use your hands, you wanted to touch him so badly. You waited for permission, glancing between his legs and his face.

A smirk tugged at his lips. “Open your mouth.”

You did as he told and his hand held your hair once again, pulling your mouth onto his cock. When your lips closed around him he groaned, gently rolling his hips to press against the wetness of your tongue. You hummed and slowly took him in until the tip was pressing the back of your throat. As big as he was you had to be patient, go slow and not be too eager.

But fuck you wanted to just swallow him.

And he knew. He watched your eyes keenly at first, tracked your facial expressions even when you weren’t looking at him. Zim knew exactly what you wanted, and he was going to make you earn it. For a minute he just gently bobbed your head, letting you get used to the feeling of easing past your gag reflex.

It was torture in its own right, you wanted to stroke him with one hand and bury the fingers of your other inside him, curling gently upwards in the way that always made him hiss and buck his hips. Your wrists twitched in their restraints, butt wiggling against the heels of your feet impatiently. Of course he noticed.

The hand holding your hair kept you steady as he raised his hips up, and sheathed himself down your throat in one fluid motion that left him sitting upright at the edge of the couch as your eyes watered in surprise. If he felt the flat of your tongue graze his entrance he didn’t show it — always so composed. “I thought you were supposed to be proving to me that you’re a good girl.”

You whined, your throat vibrating against his soft skin.

He leaned over as far as he could without moving your head. “Good girls are patient,” he purred, voice low and husky. “Good girls sit still.” He paused to regather your hair and fist it firmly. “Are you sure you’re a good girl?”

Without moving any more than you needed to, you nodded gently, keeping your breathing even as you felt him throb against the length of your throat. Your knees, pressed uncomfortably against the frame of the couch, began to bruise, and you shifted to try and alleviate the pressure.

You couldn’t see the wicked smile on his face, but of course he noticed that too. He pulled himself from your mouth and sat back, watching your chest rise and fall as you breathed more deeply. He loved the way your skin flushed when you were needy, almost as much as when you were embarrassed. “Spread your legs.”

Even if he couldn’t see it, and even if you couldn’t see it yourself, it made you feel vulnerable to sit with your legs spread apart. It made you feel lusty and agreeable and on display, and you always blushed the hardest when he asked you to sit like that. But you were a good girl, you obeyed. And as you slid your knees apart and pressed yourself closer the heat filled your stomach and naval. If you were really good maybe he’d finish you off…

He let you set your own pace after that, and soon was relaxing into the cushions, only gently keeping your hair at bay. You were methodical and consistent and soon he was letting his head fall back with a soft hiss, “Fuuuuuck.” He couldn’t help but roll his hips in time with your tongue, and every once in a while when you pressed your nose all the way against his skin he had to hold himself steady. Of course you were his good girl, of course you were well behaved, your manners were exceptional and he swelled with pride just at the thought of it. And he loved how much it turned you on to hear him say it. “That’s it,” he groaned, “that’s my good girl.”

Every time you heard those words it lit a spark in the back of your mind. When you were soft it made you giggle, when you were working it made you focused. But when you were being sexual, it made you deviant. When praise came with a growl it buried every self conscious thought you had, about what you looked like, sounded like, event felt like. None of it mattered, except that you were doing well and you had the want to do even better.

Being praised made you want to be nasty. But you still had to do as you were told, so you held fast to your composure and kept on. It didn’t take much longer before he was comfortably in your throat more often than not and his exhales came out in growls. You were still heated enough to ignore to cramp in the back of your neck as you adjusted to raise and lower your head over and over, the slick sensation of his cock against your tongue was blissfully distracting. But as always, he noticed.

With a gentle but firm hand he pulled you off of him, groaning at the sound of your mouth making a wet ‘pop’ as you let go. “Sit up on your knees, babygirl.”

You shuffled back a few inches and rose up with your knees pressed together, watching him expectantly. The hunger in his red eyes told you he was close, but your position said you’d only be compliant to whatever he wanted. And when he told you to open your mouth again you did so without hesitation, sighing as he effortlessly slipped back down your throat.

This time he set the pace, and it was only slow and gentle for a handful of thrusts before you were having to work to keep upright on your knees with how forcefully he was pumping his hips. He had one hand each on the back of your head and neck, and that helped, but you couldn’t help but want to tilt your head back and moan. When his fingers tightened you knew he was almost there…

“That’s it babygirl, that’s it…” The strain in his voice gave him away first, and you put the last of your effort into relaxing as he came unraveled above you. “That’s it that’s it that’sithah-fuck!” He pulled you close when he came, snarling and panting open mouthed into the thick around around you.

Your fists tightened in their restraints to let off the pressure as you shook with the effort of swallowing his seed. Even though your eyes were closed you felt tears prick your lashes, but they never grew or fell, and after a long moment you were rewarded for your efforts with a full breath of air as he pulled away. You took two deep gulps of air and blinked away the moisture in your eyes before looking up at him to await your praise.

His face was soft and flushed, and he smiled as he leaned down to kiss your forehead. “You are such a good girl.”

[jimjamthehorrorman]

"Texas Hold Em'"

(PART TWO of the "Unconditional Love" fic. In this AU, the boys are all alive, modern setting and not cannibals. Just a bunch of eccentric boys with secrets. Hope you enjoy!)

Early morning, a tinge of blue coats the walls like thick paint. You forgot to close the curtains, but this isn't your house, so how would you remember so easily? You wonder if your dog is having a good time lazying up the house with your friend who came to pupsit. But you have other things to worry about, she's in good hands.

The guest room at the boys farm was empty other than an uncomfortable old futon, some strange bone art (as you know, Nubbins and Bubba are quite the taxidermy artists) and the subtle smell of a "cinnamon clove" candle on the dresser that really ties it all together.

The sound of a rooster crowing next to the window reminds you..

"The boys are up already. Today I finally get to meet the notorious 'Chop Top'" you thought to yourself, struggling to get the heavy flannel sheets off so you can get dressed. "first day as a farmhand, that's a step up from gas station attendant."

When Drayton saw how easily you got along with the boys, he realized that you could be a good addition to the farm. Obviously you wouldn't live there full time. You've got your own home and your own life seperate from them, but something draws you there when you have free time. Actually, someone.

Stomping down the hall, you hear boots already mud clodden. Speak of the devil, he knocks at the door frame with a gentle thud. He groans in a way that almost sounds like "are you up?" You see his eye barely peak through the gap in the door.

"I'm getting dressed, Bubba!" You shout, grasping at the sheets to cover yourself. You hear the sound of his heels turning and a slight jog that turns into some thudding and stomping again. He must have been embarrassed because he turned heel, ran, stumbled and hit the lamp in the hall on his way out.

"BUBBA YOU FOOL, YOU DAMNED NEAR BROKE GRANDMA'S GOOD LAMP!"

Drayton's up.

"GODDAMNIT BOY, GO ON OUT AND GET THE TRACTOR STARTED!"

You hope to yourself he isn't like that with you. Poor Bubba.

"You about ready in there Y/N? We've got to get some work done and then we'll get breakfast made." He took a totally different tone with you. It's almost sickening that he can be so nice to you and so mean to his brothers, but you can't complain because he'll do his best to hold his tongue with you around.

"I'll be out in just a few, Drayton! I'm putting my boots on now!"

He chuckled on his way down the hall.

"Chop Top's back from the VA Hospital, so be prepared. He's crazier than any of us." You can't tell if he's joking or dead serious.

You meet Nubbins at the door.

"Hey! Hey Y/N! Bubba wants you to meet the animals and his favorite are the birds! They're so nice, really good tempered! The ducks are his favorite but I think the chickens are mine!"

"Alright! We'll go check them out together, they have to be fed anyways right?"

"Oh yeah! And they eat real good too! Hungry little things!"

He prances down the lane towards a little crooked shack, Bubba's standing outside the door putting buckets of water and feed out for the birds. He just can't stop wearing that pretty mask and suit. He knows how much you like it and you haven't seen the other mask since the day you met. He's dressed to impress and he's going to get his dress boots dirty, you just KNOW it.

The sun's come up as you were coming down the lane and Nubbins, running in his standard silly formation, makes it to the door and slams it open, letting out all the chickens to Bubba's dismay. He hadn't finished putting everything down and now he has to get his shoes muddy to get back to the other side.

He looks to Nubbins and groans loudly, putting his hand up to his masked face. Shaking his head, he walks around the muddy nasty pen and finishes his job. As soon as he sees you he perks up, running out the pen and nearly ripping his good coat on the wire fence.

"Good morning big guy! Thanks for the privacy this morning!" You laugh as you watch his cheeks redden from under the mask. "It's alright you didn't know I was changing. Anything exciting planned for this afternoon?"

He points toward the gate at the end of the midpoint in the driveway, a truck is making it's way out toward the road and you see Drayton, his mouth running like he's cursing his whole way out. His window is closed but you feel for the poor soul on the other end of the phone.

Nubbins runs up and grabs you by the shoulder. "He's going to get Chop Top from the bus station in town! They finally got him out, he's going to get him and we'll have a great time, a hell of a time!"

You've heard wild stories about this guy, and you weren't sure how to feel about him but certainly he would come to be as close to you as the other boys.

Bubba and Nubbins finish doing their jobs while you get some Alfalfa treats for the cattle out back. Who knew these hefty old things were like big dogs themselves? The one with the biggest horns you knew to be "Dolly" the longhorn named by Drayton and his favorite. You give her a couple extra treats for good measure.

It's only been about fifteen minutes since Drayton left, and based on Nubbins' watch, he wouldn't be back for another 45. Now's your chance to get even closer to Bubba. He doesn't talk much but there's a spark and he for sure likes you.

More of an action than words guy, that boy.

"Hubba Bubba, look at you all fancy!" You smile at him, he's got his sleeves rolled up to the elbow, his pant legs rolled to the knee and he's slinging a 50 lb bag of cracked corn into the feeder. He looks down at you, giving you a once over before wiping corn dust off of his tie and jacket. "I'm done with my jobs if you want to go on a walk!"

Bubba giggles to himself before putting the burlap sack on the pile and walking up to you, excited to spend time with you, knowing soon you two can have a snack at the barn.

"So, do you like living on the farm?"

He nods, he loves it here with all the animals, you can tell. He scratches his chin under the mask. He must get hot wearing those all the time and shaves quite often so it must get itchy.

Walking down a hill toward the barn you pass a beaten up old shed. Getting too close to the door he grabs your hand and snags you in close to him. He's shaking his head no.

"What's wrong with the shed, Bub?"

He looks uncomfortable and points to the barn.

"Okay okay, we'll keep moving." You give him a pat on the lower back and keep walking before giving one hesitant glance back at the shed. What's in there and why is he not letting you in? Weird.

Halfway to the barn you realize you're still holding Bubba's hand. He's tangled his fingers up in yours and you feel him gently trailing his thumb around on your hand. He looks down at you every once in a while just to be sure you're comfortable. He's nervous and it's easy to tell.

You try your best to reassure him by doing the same and smiling back each time. He lets out a relieved sigh as you make it to the barn. A decrepit old metal barn from the 50s filled to the top on one side with square bales of hay and the other side a little table with five chairs and a couple of empty stalls sit. The barn is open on both sides other than the back, a torn up old screen sways back and forth in the wind, like a piece of paper held on with tape. Bubba retracts from your hand to pull down some bales with ease, stacking them into something roughly resembling a couch.

He flops down on them with only a slight rustle of the hay, obviously more comfortable than the little rusty metal ones at the table. He sits up and pats the bale beside him. You walk over and flop next to him, looking around to see that Nubbins is nowhere close by, you wrap your hand around his and lean into him. Between the heavy overalls you have on guarding you from the itchy hay and this space heater of a man, you're warm and comfy. Bubba gazes down at you and envelops you in his arms. He too is very comfortable.

---

"I think they're in the house, I couldn't really tell you!"

You hear Nubbins in the distance, it sounds like he's yelling to Drayton and Chop Top but you can't be sure.

They can't possibly be back yet unless...

Bubba's asleep. You were asleep. How long have you been out? How long have they been home? Is Nubbins covering for you?

"Well tell them if you see them before us that Chop Top and I are making lunch and they'll be too late if they don't get themselves up here!" Drayton sounded like he was content for the moment but if you didn't get to the house soon you'd be in big trouble. Footsteps trail around the back of the barn, Nubbins peaks in and whispers loudly to the both of you.

"Get yourselves together love birds! Drayton's gonna whoop my ass if you two don't get in this house soon. It'll be real bad! So hurry on up!" He blows a raspberry at the now awake Bubba who groans at the thought. You look up to see the bottom of his mask has rolled up to reveal a normal looking chin and mouth, a freshly shaven face is hidden by the mask every day and you don't get to see it so this is a glance you didn't expect. As he starts to roll down his mask, you grab his hand. He looks at you scared and worried.

"I'm not going to take it off" you smile at him and he calms, holding onto your hands. "I just want to try something and you have to tell me if you're uncomfortable okay? I won't ever try to make you uncomfortable."

Bubba nods at you, his left hand trailing up your arm, resting on the nape of your neck where he can run his fingers along your hairline. As you lean in for a kiss, he closes the gap. Your lips touch and he pulls you in closer, holding you in his arms.

Bliss. You may have been kissed before, but he was a whole other ballgame. He had never kissed before and there was a level of touch starvation that he was trying to cope with upon this embrace. He was holding you and being held by you at the same time and he was beyond happiness.

Bubba's depraved lips were soft as silk and cherry flavored as they grazed over yours, his cologne thick but not overpowering smelt of burning oak wood in a crackling fireplace. The only fire here is one of desire and soon you would both be burning. His hands crept up and down your back and hips, trailing over your hands and back to your hair. Soon enough you felt smooth shaven skin and soft pillowy lips crawling down your chin and neck, circling your shoulder. You were completely and utterly surrendered and victim to his tender embrace.

*horribly obnoxious phone ringing*

Bubba breathed hard letting you go, a sigh escaping his lips as he pulled his mask down again. You reach into your pocket and pick up the phone. Of course, Drayton was getting finicky.

"Where are you kids? Your jobs couldn't have taken that long!"

"Sorry Drayton we'll be right there!" He hung up and you could see the dissapointment in Bubba's eyes. You were dissapointed too but relieved because you weren't sure how far that could have gone. "Sorry Bubba, Drayton wants us at the house."

He grunted as he stood up, helping you up after him. He held your hand as you walked back to the house. You didn't get a snack, instead you got a whole lot of a hot take.

---

The birds squawked and cooed softly as you passed by, echoing the same calmness that filled the breeze. In that breeze came the smell of lunch: a mixture of fried eggs, bacon, fried apples, little crunchy potatoes and fresh squeezed orange juice. The taste of cherry carmex chap stick still lay thick on your lips as Bubba walked beside you.

It was going to be the best job you could ever have dreamed of.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Forty-Seven

Table of Content or Part Forty-Six

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Words: 2.6k

Warning(s): Explicit language, mentions of drug abuse

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"...Viv, I can't afford to bail anyone out of jail right now." Doc sighs out sleepily and I roll my jaw.

"Well, none of the guys have enough money either. We're in a bind."

"How'd you even get arrested?" He asks me and I rub my lips together.

"This douche face was being obnoxious and creepy and we had a misunderstanding." I explain.

"Misunderstanding?"

"Okay he got his ass handed to him and security called the cops." I mumble, rolling my eyes.

"Who exactly handed him his ass, Vivian?"

"...A red head..."

"Vivian Sixx--"

"--Um, Axl's locked up, too, it coulda been either one of us!" I defend myself. "If one of the guys called you from jail, you'd bail them out asap." I add.

A moment of silence passes as I pray in my mind that he agrees to something.

"Alright, Viv, alright. I'll handle it." He sighs out.

He hangs up and I put the phone back on the hook as the officer escorts me back to the holding cell Axl, Duff, Izzy, Slash, Steven and Tansy are in.

"What did he say?" Duff asks.

"He's handling it." I say to him.

"Oh, I'm sure." Axl mumbles, his head leaned back against the block wall, sunglasses covering his eyes up. "Must be nice to snap your fingers and get what you want."

"Oh, damn." Stevie says under his breath, knowing this is about to cause an argument.

Slash is busy tying the laces of his boots with Tansy's, Izzy's trying to catch a nap, and Duff is scooting over on the floor so I can sit next to him.

"I get it even faster using 'Sixx'." I don't even deny Axl's accusation and he scoffs.

"Coulda used that card to keep us from getting arrested in the first place."

"No, you could've kept us from getting arrested had you kept your temper together instead of punching the guy." I snap.

"And like you threatening the police officer helped." He shoots back at me.

"I didn't threaten him." I argue.

"You told him you'd break your foot off in his ass." Steven points out, rubbing his tired eyes.

"It was a promise, not a threat, and I wouldn't have said it if he wouldn't have been unnecessarily aggressive." I scoff.

"Yeah, well it got everyone else in trouble for being associated with us. So next time keep your fuckin' mouth shut." He states.

"There won't be a 'next time' because I refuse to be locked in a tiny space with you ever again." I roll my eyes.

There was a "next time" a couple years later.

It was my first time out since having Monroe when a paparazzi so boldly called me a "passaround" and asked me what other bassists I had "sucked and fucked."

Axl and I both went for him without realizing the other person was throwing a punch, and he got double the trouble.

We were deemed "Twin Tornados" after that because apparently were both loud, aggressive, unpredictable, and could make a mess.

Within an hour and a half, it's five in the morning, and Duff is nudging me awake.

"Hmm?" I sit up from laying against his arm.

"I think Doc's here." He tells me, nudging everyone else awake.

Within a few more minutes an officer is stepping to us, unlocking the cell.

Once we get our stuff back and go to the lobby, bitterly glare at Doc...

Nikki's leaned against the counter, leather jacket clad arms are crossed, and I can just feel his hazel eyes looking me up and down from behind his blacked out sunglasses.

I ignore him the best I can, stepping outside, only for Doc to trail behind me as Nikki and the guys make small talk as they walk out after us.

"Viv, I didn't have any other choice." Doc tells me and I turn to face him.

"Vince, Tommy...?" I ask. "They would've come and got us out. You just went to Nikki because you were pissed I inconvenienced you."

"I went to Nikki because once the two of you said 'I do', you promised to take care of each other. He wanted to come make sure you were alright. Regardless of this dumb separation you two have going on, you're still his wife."

"Dumb separation he insisted on." I point out, tears swelling in my eyes.

"Well, he's not exactly singing that song anymore." He tells me lowly and I furrow my brows.

"What?"

"Just believe me. He misses you." He mumbles.

I don't have time to question him anymore.

"Can we go home now?" Steven yawns, stretching.

"I can take you guys home." Doc offers. "Viv, you can go back with Nikki." He suggests and I raise my brow as tension collects in the air.

Everyone looks at me knowingly, waiting for me to answer.

"I can't do that." I argue, crossing my arms.

"It's been a month, Viv." Doc states, his eyes flickering to Nikki for a second.

"Which means we have two more to go." I raise my brows.

"Vivian." He says more sternly. "Stop being ridiculous."

"He wanted to get away from me for three months. He's getting what he wants, like he always does." I laugh without humor.

"You didn't really expect him to go that long with his wife--"

"--Oh, I did. He was oh so sure he wanted to be separated for that long." I cut Doc off, looking at Nikki. "I'll see you in two months. Whether it's with open arms or divorce papers, is up to you. I could give a damn at this point."

I wanted to punish him. He hurt me by making me feel like he didn't care. He didn't throw "ninety days" out there to have that much time to gather his thoughts and reflect and do better by me, he threw out that number so he could have more time to do whatever the hell he wanted to without his wife in the house.

And he did whatever and whoever the hell he wanted to do the entire time.

For years I blamed my reluctance and pettiness as the main contributor to his affair with Vanity.

After that night at the police station, I refused to come home, even when he called the apartment, fucked up and crying, repeating "I'm sorry."

Had I come home, it might have decreased their time spent together or something. At least that's how I felt for years after the actual affair took place.

I didn't realize he wasn't calling and saying "sorry" because he regretted suggesting we be apart for that long...but because he'd slept with another woman. Another woman he found himself becoming slightly emotionally connected to, and knew, almost immediately, wouldn't just be a one-night stand or a fling, but would become "the other woman."

And she would hold that position, without my knowledge, for an entire year and a half.

Of course when I found out I was angry at the both of them, but I was more angry at him.

He sought her out.

He saw her in Vanity 6's "Nasty Gal" video, called his people at the office, they contacted her people, and set up a date for them to meet. Just like that. And he wasn't even thinking of me because I wasn't even living in the house with him.

So to me, for a long time, I was just as much to blame as Nikki and Vanity.

And that doesn't even count the many times I blamed myself for his straying after staring in a mirror and comparing myself to her.

We were on the complete opposite sides of the spectrum in looks, personality, how we carried ourselves, and hobbies.

And it's not like she was Nikki's outlet to an entirely different lifestyle than he had with me.

It wasn't like he was a sober, church going, family man who kept things vanilla and just visited her when he needed a wild night of smoking crack, shooting heroin and screwing around.

He was the same person with her as he was with me.

The only reason they stayed together so long is because she never made him feel bad for fucking himself up. She encouraged it.

And that was the one thing I had over her.

Well that, and, according to Izzy, "she's a ten but the drugs make her a five. And her being batshit crazy knocks her to a solid two...on a good day. You're a ten."

He followed that up with, "don't compare yourself to a fucking crack addict when there's barely anything left of her to compare to. The only thing she can say she's got on you, is screwing your husband, and she brags about it because strung out Nikki Sixx is obviously a prize."

His sarcasm had me laughing and wiping my tears.

I was tempted to get "strung out Nikki Sixx is obviously a prize" tattooed on me, but decided not to.

The door opens and Slash and Steven come in, chuckling, as I scrub the last cup in the sink.

"Wow, it's only three in the afternoon and you're up?" I ask them.

"We took Tans to the airport." Stevie explains. "I don't know why she doesn't just move back here." He adds.

"She works out of New York." I say with a shrug.

"She's alright got Miss 1985. The hell else is there left for her to do?" He sighs, pouting a little and I rub my lips together.

"Hustler magazine called her a few days ago." I tell them and they look at each other.

"Hustler's more graphic than Playboy..." Steven points out with slight distaste.

"I think the wrong people have their feet on her neck, and there's not a damn thing any of us can do about it." I tell him, rubbing my forehead.

"Oh." He says lowly, a sad expression on his face.

I decide to change the subject.

"So." I start, sitting on the counter. "Any idea for an album yet?"

"We got plenty of songs. We're looking for a producer." Slash informs me, sitting on the couch. "Tom wants to bring in Paul Stanley."

"Ugh." I can't hide my wrinkling nose at the idea of Paul Stanley producing Guns N' Roses.

"What's wrong with that?" Steven asks me.

"I like Paul but KISS isn't Guns N' Roses. I don't think he would give you a sound that's signature to you guys' style."

"Yeah, that's what the guys think." Stevie replies, sighing out. "It's still cool we got his attention."

"Yeah, it is." I agree. "You just gotta stick to what your sound is, is all."

"Well, who produced Mötley's first big album?"

"Oh, it wa--" I stop myself abruptly after the name completely leaves my mind. I furrow my brows, knowing that I know who produced it, but I can't. "I'm not crazy. I know who produced it."

They wait for a moment.

"Did they even have a producer?" I mumble to myself. "Well then who the hell produced 'Shout at the Devil' and 'Theater of Pain'?" I ask myself, thinking harder than I should be. "You're telling me you were the only sober one around and you can't even remember who the hell was working with them?" I keep talking to myself and I can see Steven and Slash looking at each other from the corner of my eye. "I give up. I can't remember. I'm not crazy." I tell them and Stevie spins his pointer finger beside his temple to signal to Slash that I'm looney and I throw the dish towel at him, hitting him in the face, causing him to chuckle some more.

"I'm gonna go get a shower." I tell them, trying to calm my laughter spell with them as I step to the bathroom and start the shower before undressing and getting in.

I've been fine, actually getting out of bed at a reasonable time every day and cleaning up the apartment while the guys are out doing whatever. I haven't missed any doses of my medicine in a while, and that's helping my mood more than I thought it would.

I've been slowly starting to dance again. I'm not sure if Mandy is aware Duff sneaks me to her band's rehearsal space almost every other night, but what she doesn't know won't hurt her.

I still miss Nikki--and it's been two weeks since we last saw each other--but it's not a "can't breathe without you" feeling, I just miss his company, his smart-ass comments, his teasing, his laugh, his smile, his eyes, the sound of his bass as he fumbles with it to recreate a riff he thought up in his head at some point, the way he would do tiny things to help me around the house, our conversations in the dead of night about stupid things he would think up under the influence...I miss him sneaking into my bedroom window at night and the two of us trying not to wake up my parents with our laughter, I miss feeling like I never wanted to leave the apartment he shared with Vince and Tommy because I'd have to leave his bed, I miss not having the weight of the world on my shoulders, not constantly thinking "you're his wife, people are looking at you, dress like this, look like this, act like this, look happy, be sexy, fuck him good, and he won't give groupies a second glance."

I miss life before the access to excess.

I miss Nikki.

Not "Nikki Sixx of Mötley Crüe."

Just Nikki.

I'm rinsing shampoo from my hair when someone knocks at the door.

"Viv?"

Speaking of Mandy, her voice sounds from the other side of the door.

"Yeah?" I reply, hearing the door open a little.

"You've got a phone call. He says it's an emergency." She tells me. "He says it's about your husband." She adds.

I'm nearly breaking my neck to scramble out of the shower, not bothering with taking the time to wrap up in the towel, rushing past her and my heart sinks to my stomach.

"Emergency" and "Nikki" are never good in the same sentence.

Duff is holding the phone for me, mouthing "Doc" to me as I take it, trying to convince myself not to start crying before I even know what exactly is going on.

"H-Hello?" I ask into the phone, my body shaking. I don't know if it's due to anxiousness or the cold air clinging to my wet skin.

Duff's draping my shoulders with his jacket, and Mandy pulls it shut so I'm not flashing Slash or Steven, who're in front of us, sitting on the couch.

"Viv, I need you to break that fucking bullshit you have for therapy and go back home." Doc orders me.

"Why? What happened? What's wrong? Is Nikki okay?" I frantically ask one after the other.

"I don't know, I'm about to head over there and make sure." He says.

"Doc, what the hell happened? What's wrong?" I demand, getting more and more impatient.

He's quiet on the other end, hesitating for some reason, only pissing me off more and more because I feel like I'm about to have a heart attack.

"Doc!" I bark, tears rolling down my cheeks.

"His grandfather, Tom, just called me so I could pass the message on to you. He's already called Nikki." He starts, pausing as if what he's about to say is a tough thing to get out. "Nikki's grandmother has passed away, Vivian."

[redspecialstardust]

Always Look After You - Oneshot

(Freddie Mercury X Fem!Reader)

After an incident goes down with a pervy fan, the paparazzi do their best to attack you; Freddie doesn't take kindly to it (gifs not mine)

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: Ppl being turds, verbal sexual harassment, unwanted touching, Freddie getting angry

*Can be read as OG Freddie, or BoRap Freddie. Reader is a member of the band

It was worse than all of you had thought; without fail, just like everything else the band did, word got out about an incident---a bad incident. Last week after a gig at the Rainbow Theater, things got messy between you and a male fan. Usually when exiting a venue, Queen would just beeline for the limo, climb in and drive off.

But that night had gone extremely well concerning a great show and a positive turnout so all of you agreed to show a bit more appreciation towards the adoring audience. Once exiting the place, the band branched out to the roped off areas where the people were cheering over the fact that Queen was only feet away from them. It was going nicely too; countless autographs were signed as well as fun, friendly conversations with them. Just like each member, you also had those rabid fans who loved you completely for your talent and good looks.

Being a humble girl, kind comments often made you blush a bit, but nevertheless, concert after concert, the work on those electric violin solos of yours were gaining more and more attention every time. About twenty minutes in, you found yourself kind of floating amongst the crowd, smiling obliviously at all the positive attention for you and the boys, but it wasn't long before a man had caught your attention. He waved a bit, calling your name happily. So you naturally gravitated towards him and said a hello.

"Hello sir." You smiled.

"Hi (Y/N), wow it's great to meet you."

He had been nervously holding out an autograph book, which you kindly took and began to write your signature.

"Oh thanks, you too. Did you enjoy the show tonight?"

"Sure did, it was the best! And your violin skills are getting better all the time."

What a sweet guy.

"I appreciate that but honestly I think it was John who stole the show tonight."

He leaned in closer

"Well, between me and you, you're always the one to steal the show."

"Aww, well just make sure Freddie doesn't hear you say that." Both of you chuckled at the thought of Freddie getting jealous.

Afterwards, you handed him his pen and book back, intending to walk around a bit more but was suddenly stopped by his grip on your wrist. Okay, okay, no big deal, right? He probably just wanted to say one more thing and had to get your attention.

"Was there something else?" You asked, getting a bit uncomfortable.

His whole disposition seemed to evolve right in front of you and It was a little scary actually; his initially kind eyes almost went from cheery to maybe a bit dark, dare you say, hungry? His voice morphed too as it slightly purred, making your body freeze since you'd never had to deal with something like this before.

"How do you feel about getting out of here with me? I know a great club around here that's even 'clothing optional'. Judging by the way you move up there in those tight clothes, you're probably dying to let that gorgeous skin breathe."

Holy crap, this could not be happening. By this point he was even caressing your forearm, creating even more fearful adrenaline inside you; his grip had gotten tighter too. This may have been inappropriate, but the last thing you wanted was for everyone around you to see this esteemed band member 'attack' a fan; not at least without attempt possibly everything before going into defense mode. Why try fight when you could try flight, correct? Trying to maintain your composure, you stopped trying to pull away for a minute.

"U-uh, well, sorry sir, but I have a boyfriend."

You tried to get away again, but his fingers locked around you harder, and slowly pulled you closer.

"You what?! Who is it?!" His voice getting rather grating.

"That's not your business!"

"Is it one of them? You one of their whores?" He asked, nodding towards Freddie, Roger, John and Brian, who at the moment were totally unaware of what was happening just yards away. One of them you were seeing, but a whole you were not. At the time, you and Freddie had become an item only a few weeks ago, and chose to wait before announcing, just to make sure it was going anywhere for real. Only the other boys of Queen knew of this arrangement.

"Let go!" You shrieked, dropping all concern over the fact you were surrounded by fans, enough was enough! When you tried to get away again, he yanked you to his side, trying to cop a kiss. But before he could even pin your arm down to your waist, you immediately used it clock him on the side of his face over and over until he let go, and for good measure, kicked your boot to his crotch, and you kicked hard too.

The commotion was still very chaotic and people all over were panicking since your scream had been a kind of blind curveball to those minding their own business. The boys caught on to the madness erupting around them and saw you jumping back from where you were. All they knew was that it seemed you were in potential danger, and without having to exchange glances or words, all four of them corralled around you protectively, begging to know what happened.

"Are you alright, (Y/N)?" John said, rubbing your shoulders.

You were still a little shaken.

"Y-yeah, I think so."

Brian and Roger quickly hugged you, trying to calm your obviously panicked vibe. But Freddie on the other hand, he marched right in front of you, with fear in his eyes.

"(Y/N) Darling, what happened? Are you hurt? Tell me!" He pleaded, cupping your face .

"That guy on the ground there; he...he grabbed me and he wanted me to go to a club with him. I tried to get away, but he wouldn't let go, so I hit him."

"He grabbed you?!" Rogee yelled.

"Did he hurt you?" Freddie repeated.

You held your arm up, showing them the slightly bloody nail scratches this perv left. It didn't hurt that much, but it left you scared for sure. No one had ever put their hands on you like that before. All of them gasped a bit at the minor injury. One of their own had been hurt, and that was not a light issue in the slightest. Especially not to Freddie, your very protective boyfriend. When he gawked at the wound, the shock from this began to turn to rage as he slowly turned and saw the culprit still trying to stand and recover from the nasty kick you gave him. The punches you landed may hurt, but it was nothing compared to the pain that the lead singer was about to inflict.

In the most unsubtle way, Freddie screamed and ran for the perv and tried to practically maul him right there, but the rest of the guys held him back; they didn't like you getting hurt either, but the last thing they needed was more physical violence going down right now.

"YOU PUT YOUR HANDS ON HER?! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!"

One week later:

While you and the boys agreed to try to put that awful memory behind you, Freddie was still seething over the fact he didn't get to kick that guy's ass before being restrained. The press seemed to be quite hung up on it too, but the headlines didn't rule in your favorite at all. In fact, the victim in the scenario according to everyone else was that 'Poor man who just wanted to meet his favorite band'. No one knows how he did it, but in just seven short days, he had spread his version of the story all over the place and made it sound like it was you, the crazy hormonal female that went ape after he asked for an autograph.

Pictures in all the papers consisted of shots of you punching and throwing him to the ground in addition to Freddie lunging like a panther and screaming like a madman. Well he was mad--no, pissed that someone put his hands on you and for the most part, got away with it. The assault didn't stop there either. Queen was being sued all because you chose to defend yourself and it was an outrage.

To make things worse, a conference had been scheduled to talk about the new clothing line you and Freddie had collaborated on making, but with this under your belt, there's no way everyone there was gonna want to hear about yours and his original clothes. As you all anxiously stood in your green room, the pacing tension only seemed to increase. Freddie noticed your nervous self sitting depressed on the couch, and held you close to him, his lips lovingly pressed against your head.

He knew how scared you were and that you felt as if your career with Queen would be over. You didn't have to say it, but with him knowing you so well, he already figured you had considered leaving them so that the paparazzi would leave them alone.

"Don't even think about it." He wasn't about to lose contact with his love all because of some preposterous rumors.

"But Fred-"

"No 'buts' Darling; you're apart of the family and of my heart, so if you think for one second I'm going to allow these parasites to scare you away, then I'm ashamed."

The rest of them completely agreed. They loved you, and were more than willing to go through all the bad press. Thick and thin, Queen was going to stay together whether people liked it or not. As you looked up at the rest of them for reassurance, Brian tenderly smiled and put his hand out for you to grab. With your hand, you stretched out took it, feeling Roger and John hug you from left and right. The loyalty was astounding as most bands would have asked the elephant in the room to make itself scarce, but no, not with them. You sniffled out a thank you and felt your boyfriend complete the embracing circle; just then, Miami came out but quickly took a step back to let you all finish your moment.

"Miami?" Fred asked.

"They're uh, they're ready for you all."

Freddie nodded, motioning for everyone to follow him out there. As you all walked past Miami, he gently put his hand on your shoulder. The quiet gentleman was just as angry about this incident. Just like the boys were like his sons, you were like a daughter to him, and to see his daughter upset broke his heart.

"I'm terribly sorry this happened, (Y/N). Had I been there, me and Freddie would have both torn him apart."

"Thanks Jim."

The next thirty seconds of you walking out in front of all those reporters seemed to go into slo mo. The flashing camera, the judgemental expressions, the overlapping voices...be strong. All five band members cautiously sat, awaiting the inevitable. Brian calmly spoke up first and asked if anyone had any questions, and like it was a trigger word, the hurricane of one question on top of another, all from different voices made you shudder. Freddie sensed the fear, and carefully massaged your hand under the desk where no one could see.

For a while, the questions were surprisingly relevant to the clothing line. It seemed as if many of the journalists were also apprehensive about asking of a sensitive topic, which really helped you relax a bit. The calm coming over you also helped the guys to ease up as well.

"Who's idea was it to start the clothing line? (Y/N)s or Freddie's?"

"Well mine of course, my dear." Freddie boasted. "(Y/N) is very smart, but I'm still the brains of the operation."

You playfully shook your head, making the reporters laugh.

"(Y/N), which articles of clothing would you say is your strong point in designing?"

"Hmm. I think it'd have to be stylish shirts, along with accessories like scarves and hats, I've always got so many ideas for them."

"Has there been a lot of arguments over which designs should be kept and scrapped?"

"Oh it's no different than the boys arguing over music. But, before I can beat any sense into them, our manager, Miami holds me back." You chuckled.

"You mean just like how you beat that gentleman outside the theater last week?"

That question came out of nowhere so fast, it made you blank and stutter for a moment. Maybe using the word beat wasn't a good idea; you swear you didn't mean for all of this to start.

"I-I'm sorry?" You coyly asked.

"At the Rainbow Theater. You physically assaulted a fan after he asked for an autograph, is that true?"

"No, it isn't." And it begins...

"We have photographic evidence of you hitting him."

"I only hit him because---"

"Do you plan on taking any anger management classes?"

"I don't have any anger issues."

"He had a black eye and a cracked jaw along with severe damage to his privates."

"But he--"

"Did your parents used to beat you as a child?"

"M-my parents never put their hands on me."

"SHE'S LYING." A voice called from the crowd. It came out so loudly that everyone shut up immediately. When everyone in the room peered to the back, that same piece of crap who put his hands on you walked out of nowhere. His black eye was still dark as a shadow and his walk was definitely a bit crippled. Wow did you really hit him that hard? The boys all tensed and nearly growled at the scum before them.

"This whore is doing her best to hide her real self. All I wanted was an autograph, but then like a psycho, she wailed on me like a dog on raw meat."

"Liar!" Brian shouted

"Stop trying to defend your plaything, May. She's a monster and deserves punishment, I deserve compensation! Tell me (Y/N), who do you plan on attacking next? Another woman? a child maybe?"

Your chest began to unevenly breathe as your heart pounded; a panic attack was definitely coming on, and Freddie could feel the sweat forming on the palm he was rubbing. You wanted more than anything to tell them the real story, but all your thoughts were racing way too fast. Before you knew it, the cameras all began to flash in unison again and the constant questions poured while the accuser kept pointing and calling you every possible derogatory word. Freddie glanced at you and saw no difference between your fear or a deer staring into headlights. He felt your palm go limp as you began to dissociate and he couldn't stay calm anymore.

The king of Queen sprang to his feet and bellowed as loudly as possible.

"SHUT THE HELL UP!"

Once again, it went quiet and all attention went to him. John saw how frightened you were and gently led you back to the green room.

"Do you all want the real story? I'll give you the real story! We were all there. This sorry excuse of a man put his hands on one of my bandmates. She showed clear as day that she didn't want to be touched, and then he gripped her and tried to force himself on her. She acted upon self defense, and what he got was even less than he deserved. This pissflap deserves to go to prison and be made into every convict's girlfriend!"

Fred reached into his pocket, pulling out a polaroid photo.

"This photo...contains proof of the damage he inflicted on her. He grabbed her so tightly against her will that it left scratches and made her bleed! This man is no victim, he's a roach beneath my shoe...a roach that I'll make sure he wished was still hiding under the fridge he crawled out of!"

The journalists were writing everything down, transfixed on this side of the story they'd never heard. Was this true? Was Freddie trying to cover his friend's crime? Roger saw the doubt on everyone's faces and when your aggressor scoffed, he

the drummer snatched the photo from Freddie and handed it to Miami, whispering something in his ear. The manager nodded and kindly gave it to a photographer. The Polaroid began to get passed around, tension growing and judging faces now pointing to this man. They could tell the arm in the photo was definitely yours because you'd been wearing your signature zodiac bracelet; something you never went without.

"Now if you'll all excuse me, I have a girl to check on." Freddie announced.

As the band headed back, the journalists had already begun swarming the culprit. It seemed their work was done.

You were still shaking on the couch, and that loving boyfriend of yours wrapped his jacket around your shoulders.

"Let's go home." He whispered.

Without any fight, your feet stood with his and walked out with him, only upon going outside, he moved his jacket from your shoulders, to covering your head. He didn't want anyone in the press to see you upset, nor want you to see that idiot in the window. The limo was already waiting, and once you two piled in, he told the driver to return to Garden Lodge.

Freddie was still holding you tight, rubbing your back.

He kissed your head.

"I want this to be over, Freddie."

"It's alright my Love. I showed them the picture and told the whole story. I don't think it's quite over yet, but I think most will know you're innocent."

Your heart lightened at that. It was truly a relief knowing that your honor meant everything to him.

"Now what?" You sniffled.

"We go home. We get into our pajamas. And we binge watch all the comedies we can find, because I want to see you smile."

And just as he promised, you and Freddie spent the rest of the day cuddling on the couch with you, under a pile of blankets and of course, his cats.

THE END

Thanks for reading! Find more from me on the Masterlist

[goddessofthundathighs]

DISTRACTION

Just a little filth based off of this post because I feel like I’ve been neglecting my lovelies.

_____________________________________________

“Bro, what the fuck?” Erik yelled angrily into the headset. He’d just returned from a two-month long mission in Colombia and all he wanted to do was relax with a nice game of Battlefield 4. He checked the time on his kimoyo beads. He knew the Princess would be home soon so he removed the headset from one of his ears to listen out for her.

It had been four months since the couple had last had sex, given both of their busy schedules, and Hennessy was more than a little needy. When she came home from work, she noticed his boots and duffle bag laid next to the front door.

“The fuckum?” She paused looking around. “I know this nigga didn't...” she complained as she put away her things and made her way to the game room.

Her husband’s dark brown eyes squinted as he concentrated on the screen, his fingers tapping the controller vigorously. The voices of middle-aged men shouting in his ear made him grumble for what had seemed like the millionth time. Though she was grateful that he still kept in touch with his battles from his time in JSOC, she hated how they sometimes kept him away from her for trivial things. As he reached the end of a heated battle, he heard the light footsteps of his wife come to the door.

“Well hello to you too,” her tiny voice rang out over the loud explosions and gunshots on the TV. He could practically hear her folding her arms.

“Oh hey babe,” He called as he glanced over his shoulder briefly before returning his gaze back to the TV. Who knew that one simple phrase could make her blood boil the way it did.

“How long have you been back?”

“Couple hours,” he responded, clearly still distracted by the video game.

“And you didn’t think to —,” her voice trailed off as her anger rose. Typically he made sure to stop by her office when he returned from a mission, but today was different. Today he chose to engage in an online video game battle instead of making an effort to spend time with her.

“Sorry babe,” he grunted as he restarted the game.

“Nah, you good,” she replied as she headed for the stairs. Bratty Hennessy was in full effect and by the time she was done, Battlefield 4 would be the last thing on Erik’s mind.

—————————

Fifteen minutes passed before she reappeared in the doorway of the game room.

“How long are you gonna be down here?”

“I don’t know Princess, why wassup?” He asked as he finished one of the game’s missions.

“Oh I don’t know, I haven’t seen you in two months, haven’t touched you in four. Get where I’m going with this?”

“Yeah, I get it baby. Gimme like 10 minutes and I’m all yours, I promise.”

“10 MINUTES?! NIGGA?!” she screamed exasperatedly.

“Okay, okay, 6 minutes,” he responded as he went back to angrily tapping the buttons on the controller.

“Fine,” she pouted as she walked over to the stereo system.

The sounds of Booty by Blac Youngsta filled the game room as the Princess distracted herself. Erik’s head began to nod to the beat as she bounced around the room.

Girl, I wanna see you twerk

I'll throw a lil' money if you twerk

I don't really think you can twerk

(Toot toot) twerk

If you broke, go to work

Make that big booty twerk

Make that big booty twerk

(Toot toot)

Can I touch that booty?

That booty, that big old booty?

Shake that booty, can I lay on the booty?

Mike Tyson on the booty

Copyright that booty (toot toot)

“Babe, C'mon now.. Move…”

He was so focused on the game that he hadn’t noticed his curvaceous wife’s attire. She’d traded her tan flounce jumpsuit for a navy two-piece lingerie set with a matching see through robe. As the song continued on and her best friend’s verse came on, the tiny princess decided to kick it up a notch.

Yeah, smack it up, flip it, rub it down, BBD

Yeah, I know you heard the news about that BBC

Yeah, greatest in that box, RIP Ali

Mmm, she say she love my kids, taste my legacy

Ooh, she go stupid, I'm no Cupid, I don't cuff her, I can't lose it

What she say I'm sleepin' on her, I just said she just caught me snoozin'...

As Trey continued to rap, Hennessy purposely placed her body in Erik’s line of vision and began throwing her ass like she had entered a twerk contest.

“Hennessy I said —,” his sentence was cut off as his eyes lifted to fully take in her presence. “Gahdamn,” he groaned as he reached out to move the fabric of the robe, giving him an unobstructed view. He stared like a predator watching prey as her plump ass gyrated in his face. The groans of his battles brought him back from the trance she’d successfully put him in. Pausing the game and throwing his controller to the side, he watched her hips move with ease to the beat. Before he knew it, her ass was on his lap, grinding and popping to the music as the bass thumped throughout the room. Groaning lowly, he moved the mic from his headset down to his mouth and spoke to the men who had been complaining in his ear the entire duration of the song.

“Aye niggas, I'll be back. I don't know when though.” The men's voices were cut off as he turned the PlayStation off and tossed the headset on the table. He bit his bottom lip as his calloused hands began kneading the tender flesh of her ass before giving it two harsh smacks. She moaned softly, but continued her ministrations, turning to face him now.

“You just couldn’t wait, huh? Needy ass,” he teased as he pulled her down to straddle his lap. His lips curved into his signature smirk, revealing the gold fronts that she loved.

“Nah, you wanted to play the game, remember? Keep that same energy fam,” she said as she slowly tried to slide out of his lap. His arms locked around her like a constrictor, effectively stopping her escape.

“Nah, the only game I’m tryna play is how many times Daddy can make Hennessy cum,” he growled, lifting from the couch.

————————

Hennessy’s legs shook as he feasted from her, his tongue darting back and forth with impeccable speed. Her hands moved from the sheets of the bed to his unruly dreads, tugging on them as he sucked on her clit.

As his tongue lapped over one of her more sensitive areas, she yanked his hair and moaned. As if her body wasn’t already seconds from overstimulation, a growl erupted from the beast between her thighs.

“F-fuck don’t growl at me…” She whimpered as she stared down at him. As his lips turned into a sly smirk, he chuckled softly.

“Mmm. Why not Princess?”

“Y-You know why,” she whined as his long tongue wrapped around the sensitive bundle of nerves at the apex of her thighs. He growled again, causing her to gush into his mouth as the vibration traveled up her body.

“Daddy I’m cumming,” she whined as she rocked her hips against his face. He stared up from his place between her legs, dark eyes fixed on hers as he continued to lick slow patterns on the swollen bulb.

“Let it go Princess,” he growled as he attached his lips to her clit and sucked. Her orgasm hit her hard and fast, but his tongue never stopped it’s quest. He continued feasting until orgasm number two had her clawing at his back. He licked his lips as he watched her body shake, determined to have her sated and asleep by the time he finished.

He climbed up her body slowly, kissing and biting at her skin along the way. A firm tug to his dreads had him eye to eye with the curvaceous cutie, her brown eyes piercing his.

“As much as I like the slow, sensual treatment, I’m way too horny for you to be taking your sweet grandpa time. It’s been four months, I need you to break me.”

“Say less ma,” he replied thrusting forward until he was completely buried inside of her. Her legs locked around his waist as he began delivering the powerful strokes that always left her sore and hoarse the next day.

“That’s right,” she moaned. “Act like it’s been four months since you’ve had this pussy, nigga.” He chuckled softly, leaning down to press open-mouth kisses along her cheek and jawline.

“Fuck I missed your fine ass. I missed the way your lips feel against mine, I missed the way your face scrunches up when I hit that spot, and I especially missed the way that pretty pussy clings to my dick like a life vest.” Her inner walls fluttered at his words. She had always loved how nasty he could be during sex. He sat up on his knees and pushed her legs up so that her knees were almost beside her ears.

“Grab them ankles,” he ordered as he lined himself up with her dripping core. She barely had time to comply before his hips snapped forward with electrifying force. This was one of her favorite positions because each stroke had him tapping her g-spot with deadly precision.

“Daddy,” she moaned out, feeling the familiar tingle in her lower belly.

“Wassup?” he smirked, gold fronts gleaming in the purple light of the bedroom. “You close, Mama?” She wanted to answer, but her words were caught in her throat as he continued to fuck into her. He thrust forward a few more times before pulling himself out and smacking it on her clit.

“Answer me, Monaé!” he growled, shoving himself back into her. She bit her lip and nodded, still unable to verbally express her pleasure.

“Cum for me, Princess. I feel the way she gripping me. Show Daddy he can still make that kitten purr.” At his command her released washed over her, coating both of their lower halves with her essence.

“Fuck,” he groaned as he released himself into her. He lazily kissed her lips, swallowing each moan that came in the aftershock of her orgasm. He pulled out slowly and headed for the bathroom as sleep threatened to overtake the tiny vixen.

—————

Once he cleaned both of them off, Erik pulled the Henny close so that her head was tucked under his chin. He kissed her forehead as he slowly began running his fingers through her curly hair.

“Sorry about your game,” she said, yawning into his neck.

“You’re fine Princess. You’ve always been my favorite distraction.”

———————————————

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[thorne93]

Just My Luck (Part 4)

Prompt: Imagine accidentally walking into the men’s bathroom and seeing this fine specimen (James McAvoy)

Word Count: 2514

Warnings: Language, assault/violence

Notes: Collab fic with my girl @cocosierra94!!! Internal thoughts are in Italics, texts are in bold

Tags: @marvel-imagines-yes-please @captain-fuckinglevi @tacohead13

~~~~~~~~~

“Yeah and I'm here to take her back,” Michael slurred as he pushed off the wall.

 “Oh I see..” James said sounding so dejected and heartbroken.

 You stood closer to James hoping he'd notice your body language. You looked at him with pleading eyes, they were screaming to not leave. You prayed he picked up on the plea.

 “Please don't leave,” you thought, praying somehow he'd hear you.

“And who the fuck are you?” Michael asked, gesturing to James.

 “I’m her…” He waited, he wasn’t sure he wanted to label what you had yet but then he thought, fuck it. “I’m her boyfriend.”

 Michael scoffed sloppily as he looked around. “Please, what are you doing with someone like her? She doesn’t deserve someone like you.”

 “Michael--”

 “Shut up,” he snapped at you.

 “Don’t talk to her like that,” James ordered, starting to cover you with his body, shifting so you were behind him.

 “I’ll talk to her any damn way I please. Come on Y/N, let’s go inside and talk,” he started as he moved closer but James stood defensively in front of you.

 “Y/N, don’t move. If you don’t want to go with him, then don’t.”

 “What? Are you like her keeper?” Michael questioned. “Gotta keep doggie on her leash?” he asked patronizingly.

 “Michael, please,” you started, tears forming in your eyes. Even with James protecting you, you felt so scared and vulnerable, remembering how violent and cruel he could be when he drank.

 “Y/N, I’m not fucking around,” Michael snapped again as he grabbed at your arm and yanked you out from behind James.

 “Let her go,” James ordered darkly.

 “Oh, yeah? And if I don’t, what are you gonna do?” Michael questioned, leaning down in James face. Michael was at least five inches taller than James.

 Faster than Michael could blink, or that you could register it, James had already made a fist and pulled it back, landing it right on Michael’s jaw. You gasped and jumped back as Michael let go of you.

 “That. Now, I don’t mind fighting your pathetic ass all night, then calling the cops for assault. But I’d rather not completely ruin Y/N’s evening. So you have the choice, fight me and lose or leave and I won't call the cops and we'll forget this whole nasty ordeal.”

 Michael stood back up, clutching his face before spitting blood.

 “Fine. You can have her. She ain't worth it, man.”

 With that, he walked away and once he was down the block, James turned to you.

 “Are you alright?” he asked, holding your shoulders.

 You stared at him in total disbelief.  Something about the way he handled the situation. The way he protected you so happily. You’d never had that. He was like...well, like an angel. Instead of responding verbally, mainly because you forgot how, you closed the gap between you two, your lips landing on his.

 The sensation was wild, lighting your senses on fire. It was a sweet, thankful kiss. You could feel him smile under the kiss and hold you around the waist as he pushed back with the same hunger.

 “I suppose this means you’re alright,” James said with a laugh as he pulled away.

 “Better than alright,” you mused.

 “Well, I uh, better let you get some rest, huh?” James said sadly.

 “No, wait. Don't go,” you slightly begged as you clutched his arm. “Please don't leave me alone tonight.”

 He smiled gently at you. “Of course, love, anything for you.”

 You two made it to your apartment and he said, “I'll uh...just take the couch then.”

 “No,” you lightly protested. “Would you...sleep in bed with me? I'm so nervous he'll come back and it'll make me feel better if you're in there with me.”

 “I would love to sleep next to you,” he confessed in a breathy voice.

 You smiled at him and he followed you to your room where you slipped into your pajamas in your bathroom. Meanwhile, James slipped down to his shirt and boxers.

 “Is this alright? I don't want to make you uncomfortable,” he said cautiously.

 Staring at him in a plain white shirt and black boxers, you completely forgot how to speak or think or move or respond. He was...handsome in every way. His hair slightly disheveled from the wind in the ferry and the fight, his blue eyes glistening at you, a small impish grin on his stunning face. He took your breath away, something he did quite often, it seemed.

 “Y/N? Are you okay?”

 “Hmm? Oh yes...sorry. yes that's fine.”

 He smiled and slid into bed and patted the mattress. You happily jumped in and curled into his outstretched arm, your head resting in the crook of his shoulder as you placed your hand on his chest. You felt more comfort and protection in his arms than you ever had

 “His name is Michael,” you blurted out. “We dated five years ago for about three years...he drank and when he drank he got violent.”

 James stayed silent, letting you speak.

 “He got high too a lot. He cheated on me and told me I made him do it, that I wasn't good enough so he needed someone else. After being told that enough times, I thought it was true.”

 Ever so softly, he asked, “Why didn’t you leave sooner?”

 “I kept thinking he would change. But men like him don't’ change. I finally realized that when I told him to pick the booze over me. He chose to give me a black eye and a concussion instead. As soon as Rachel heard about it, she helped me pack up my stuff and leave. She came with me, with the cops, and told Michael to not even look at me while I was there.” You laughed lightly. “She can be pretty fierce. I moved in with her until I could find an apartment.”

 “I’m so sorry that happened to you. No one deserves that sort of torment, especially someone as sweet and kind as you.” He kissed your hair and a warm feeling spread over you.

 “Thank you...I think...if it wasn’t for Rachel, I’d be dead. Michael’s temper was so awful and he was so hateful…” Before you even knew what was happening, you were clutching his shirt, crying into his chest.

 “Hey, shh, shh,” he soothed, hugging you closer to him. “As long as I’m around, that asshole won’t come near you, okay?’

 You nodded and he ran his fingers up and down your arm, lulling you to sleep.

 ------------------

 You woke up a little earlier than expected, the sun was barely even lighting the sky. You slid out from James’ arm, successfully, without waking him. Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you headed towards the kitchen to grab some water. You grabbed a bottle of water then headed back to your room.

 You stood in the doorway and watched James sleep.The sun had come up a little bit more, providing the perfect lighting to capture his features.

 “God, he's gorgeous.”

 It warmed your heart to see him so serene. The longer you looked, the more you felt it was a dream. It didn't seem possible that you deserve someone so giving, so loving, so patient, and so gentle. You just knew it couldn't be possible. Could it?

 Watching his chest rise and fall, looking at his disheveled hair and his freckled skin, it reminded you of the night before. Lying there in his strong arms, matching his breathing pattern until you were one with him. Your sight fell onto his lips, the memory of that kiss--- ethereal. You decided to slip back under the blankets to be closer to him again. As you lie back down, he instantly rolled over to pull you in closer.

 In that moment you knew one thing was certain, you were in love.

 ----------------------

 “Rise and shine sleepy head,” James crooned while lightly kissing your forehead.

 You stretched out while yawning, “ G’morning.”

 “How did you sleep, love?”

 “That's probably the best I've slept, well, since ever... What about you? How did you sleep?”

 “You're a wild sleeper, did you know that?”

 “Oh my god, I'm sorry! Did I hurt you?”

 “Haha, no, it was funny really. Besides, it wasn't so bad after I wrapped you up in my arms.”

 You threw your hands over your face to hide the growing redness on it. “I am so embarrassed! I'm so sorry!”

 “Don't be, it gave me an excuse to hold you all night.”

 With that, butterflies took flight in your stomach, hammering all around your ribs.

 “Anyway, what did you wanna do today? Any where you wanna go or anything you want to see? Broadway? I hear Kinky Boots is pretty good.”

 “Oh, I don't know, there isn't much I wanna do or see…. To be honest I'm still kind of shaky about the whole Michael thing.”

 “I've always liked lazy days anyway, why don't we just spend time here? I'll cook and we can maybe watch a movie or two? Sound good?”

 “Sounds perfect. Maybe now, I can watch some stuff starring my boyfriend.” You looked at him out of the corner of your eyes, hoping to get a response.

 His usual confident, charming demeanor faltered a bit. “Oh. Yeah, sorry if overstepped a little. He was just aggrava--”

 You kissed him, interrupting him, the touch of his lips as magical as they were last night. “It's fine, I feel the same.”

 “Oh, thank god,” he said, pressing his hand against his chest. “I didn’t want yet another restraining order,” he joked and you rolled your eyes.

 “I doubt anyone would ever want to lawfully be forced to be away from you,” you said.

 “I don’t know. I once knew this girl that was so mortified that she saw me, she called me all sorts of things, such as shallow,” he teased but it made a guilty pang hit your chest.

 “I never apologized for that,” you breathed.

 “You don’t have to,” he assured, brushing hair out of your face.

 “No, I do. I was rude to you when you were just trying to be nice, I’m sorry for that. I was just so humiliated and--”

“And thought I was hot?” he interjected with a smirk.

 “Yes, that,” you said, laughing.

 James got up and got dressed, a sight you thought you would never get over, and headed to your kitchen to make a world class breakfast. French toast with berries, side of bacon, and scrambled eggs.

 Meanwhile, you searched for a movie.

 “You’ve really never seen a movie of mine?” he called from the kitchen as he worked.

 “No, at least I don’t think I have!” you shouted back. “I think I would’ve remembered your face.”

 James smirked to himself a bit as he tended to cooking.

 “So, what do you want me to see?” you called to him. “You’re in so many movies!” you exclaimed, feeling suddenly nervous, remembering that your boyfriend was a hot shot actor, an A list celebrity, and you were just...you.

 “Anything is fine with me, darling,” he promised.

 “Hmm, okay, I found one!”

 “Haha, great!”

 Five minutes later, the brunch was done and he brought in a tray of food and juices.

 “Alright, so what did we pi--” he asked as his eyes went to the screen then he suddenly stopped. “Atonement? Really?”

 “Yeah, what’s wrong with that?”

 “It uh...nothing,” he said, shrugging it off.

 “Is it bad or something?”

 James cocked his head to the side. “It’s a real chick flick. Do you like this sort of thing?” he wondered, gesturing with juice in his hand toward the TV.

 “It sounds sweet!” you defended, curling into him and grabbing some bacon. “But if you don’t want to--”

 “No, no, go ahead,” he urged.

 The movie started and it was incredibly hard not to swoon at James’ character, and then a particular scene came up. James’ and Kiera Knightly’s character started to have sex on screen and while you were blushing slightly, you looked over and James’ face was red as a tomato.

 “So, how do they shoot a scene like this? Do you have to do it over and over again?” you suddenly asked.

 “Oh, god, please, don’t ask,” James groaned.

 “I’m just wondering! Was it weird to see her after this scene? I guess not since you probably do stuff like this all the time. I don’t know if I could do that,” you rambled, your eyes going back and forth between the scene and his face. He started to hide his face in one hand as he laughed slightly.

 “Is this payback? Is that what this is? For embarrassing you?”

 Innocently, you asked, “What? Payback? No, I’m just asking. So your orgasm face and noises, do you pull from the real thing or do you fake it?”

 “Good god, you’re relentless,” James muttered, slightly amused.

 “Ok, ok I promise I'm done! Hahaha, poor thing your face is so red!”  

 After the movie you sat in silence.

 “So what did you thi---- Y/N, what's wrong?” he questioned with alarm as he turned to you.

 You wiped your eyes with your sleeve and gestured to the TV. “Nothing,  it's just….. you were so wonderful.”

 James laughed jovially. “Aww! There's no need to cry. Here, let's watch something else. What movie do you watch to cheer you up?”

“ Hercules…. I like the songs.”

 “Really?” James wondered, amused. “Alright, let’s start it.”

 You went to your movie collection and popped it in. The movie was going fine as you were snuggled into James’ arms, but then, when it got to “Go the Distance” you had started singing along. It was a habit you picked up from childhood. Your grandparents always taught you to sing (mainly along to Disney movies) when you were sad. You hadn’t realized you were doing it though when James suddenly said something about it.

 “You have such a pretty voice.”

 “Oh, shit, sorry.” Your hand clamped over your mouth suddenly. “I didn’t realize I was doing that.”

 “No, no,” he said, laughing and pulling on your shoulder. “It’s perfectly fine. Your voice is incredibly tranquil.”

 “I’ve never sang in front of anyone before, except my grandparents.”

 “You should do it more often,” James encouraged.

 You smiled softly. “Thanks.” Your attention fell back onto the screen.

 “Oh! This is my favorite song!” you said excitedly.

  “I Won't Say I'm In Love” started. Not skipping a beat, you started in:

 “If there's a prize for rotten judgement,

  I guess I've already won that.

 No man is worth the aggravation,

 that's ancient history been there done that…”

 James watched you intently. Singing along to the words, the sheer joy on your face. It was mythical-- enchanting even. How had he never met anyone like you before? How had he gone his entire life without someone like you? How could be so lucky to have someone like you?

 “.... I'm in looooove..”

 He smiled, thinking, “Yeah, I am too.”

[nowitsdarkfic]

chapter twenty-eight (the streets of bostonia)

“It could've been, should've been worse than you would ever know. Well, the windshield was broken, but I love the fresh air ya know.” -”Dashboard”, Modest Mouse (forever another fave of mine)

December 31, 1988. Oswego, New York.

Lars has been staying with me and sleeping on my couch for the past three days, and every day he vowed to me to take me over to Music America in order to help me out with the record I want to make, but so far nothing has come from it. At one point, I told him it was supposed to snow the night before New Year's and I wanted us to skedaddle to Rochester before it got bad, and sure enough, it did right as we were getting dressed to leave. That was also the same afternoon Billy came over to check on us and joked about how we're the odd couple of Oswego, even though Lars is just here because he's got nowhere to go at the moment. Apparently his wife owns the house in Portland, he doesn't have the keys to his house in San Francisco, and there's a pretty nasty rainstorm down in New Orleans right now.

We are kind of like the odd couple now that I think about it. I'm the bronze skinned bachelor with the small pad and a lot in between the toned legs and I admit it: I'm a total slob. Lars is the white skinned once married man with three houses and is resident mad genius. I can only imagine what it must be like with James or Kirk for that matter.

I don't know if it's cabin fever talking, but when I woke up this morning, I felt like kicking ass to usher in the new year.

I sat on the edge of my bed and raised my arms over my head to stretch.

Now I'm striding into the living room in nothing more than my pajama bottoms to find Lars laying on the couch wrapped up in the blanket I lent him and staring up at the ceiling. It's at the point in which now he's growing a full Christmas sweater beard.

I loom before the arm of the couch and the soles of his feet with my hands on my hips.

“Superman?” he asks me.

“Come on, get dressed. We're going to Boston.”

“Why Boston?”

“Because that's where the Morlentes live. If you and I can't get our asses over to a studio like what you promised and teased for the past three days, we need to get over to Boston and do some snooping.”

He sighs an exasperated sigh.

“I don't feel like it, though.”

“Come on, man.” I drop my hands down by my sides. “Surely, we've got to uncover all the diversions and find the truth about Maya at some point. We've got all the clues with us—we've just gotta put it all together like the puzzle it is.”

“I admire your motivation, Joey, but I just can't bring myself to it at the moment. I can't muster the same passion I had for finding—for finding her—” He closes his eyes and shuffles his head against the pillow. He opens his eyes again and lifts his head to look at me. He raises an eyebrow at the sight of me.

“God, what a body.”

“Don't—Don't—” I wince at that and raise a hand to my face.

“No, I mean it. I envy you, Joey. Slim, so very attractive, living by yourself, and not getting all tangled up in the opposite sex.”

He fetches up another sigh and then he shakes his head.

“I've got nothing to lose,” he mutters under his breath.

“Your band?” I recall for him.

“I got fired.”

“F—what?!” I'm stunned by that.

“Yeah.” He sits upright as I gape at him and the exhausted look on his face.

“W-When?!” I can hardly speak.

“Last year. Right after we got home from the Puppets tour. James, Kirk, and Cliff had been planning on it for months in advance. Scott knew about it. Did he tell you?”

“No!”

“Yeah, well—” He sighs again. “I got fired. Unceremoniously, much like how you were.”

I shake my head at that. It's like I got punched in the stomach just now.

“That should explain why I've had nothing but time,” he continues. “Nothing but time to watch my marriage crumble and uncover the one true catalyst.”

“But the place down in New Orleans, though—”

He shakes his head and closes his eyes once again.

“That was something my dad co-signed me onto. I sold my place in San Francisco and used the money there to buy that little place. That's why it's in such a dilapidated building because rent down there is cheap. I knew my marriage was going to end and I would be kicked out of Portland, so I decided on a back up plan in the Big Easy, the place that's easy to find things. I didn't want to tell Marcia and Sonia about it because they love me, they don't want me to leave the Northwest. I am going to have to break it to them at some point, though.”

I put my hand on my hip and run my other hand through my black curls.

“God—I just—why didn't you tell me sooner?”

“I was going to. In Black Orchid. The day you and I crossed paths there. Remember when I told you I couldn't tell you why I was there? That was why. I couldn't talk about it yet because it was hard for me to stomach it at the time. So it took me a couple of more months and finding the truth about Maya and my marriage to come to terms with it. All that crying the other day really helped me, too.”

He leans forward over the blanket: I can see he had crossed his legs underneath there.

“Let me tell you, Joey—you think you know someone, and then you hear their eulogy. You just heard the eulogy of Lars Ulrich.”

“So you have nothing to lose now,” I conclude, fetching up a sigh myself.

“Correct a mundo. And what better timing, it being New Year's Eve and so soon after my birthday on top of that. I can begin the last year of the decade on a clean page.”

“Okay, well—let me put a shirt on and we'll take the arrowhead over to Boston.”

**********************************

We arrive in that same neighborhood, the same one I visited with Angeline back on Matt's birthday, although I think we're in a different place from the house because I don't recognize any of these dark stone buildings with their arches and brass chimneys and gutters. The smooth cold cobblestones underneath our feet are still glistening with ice from the melting of snow. Given it's broad daylight, I told Lars to put on something over his eyes to protect from the glare.

We're both in our heavy dark coats, our boots, and our scarves: I have on my mirrored sunglasses and he has on these little round ones with black and white speckled frames Barney had lent him. A couple of airline pilots, the both of us. He wrinkles his nose as he takes a glimpse around the block.

“What smells like potatoes?” he wonders aloud.

“That's what I told Angeline when we first came here last month. Like this whole entire neighborhood smells of potatoes. Now—follow me. At least, I think this is the right way.” I lead him down the sidewalk, which is peppered with dents and cracks, over to the corner; in front of us is a bakery with a darkened front window before a big display of all manner of baked goods. Neither of us have eaten yet. I hope we can make this quick here because I'll be starving soon enough. To the left of us stands a leather shop and a bank. To the right of us is a haberdasher and a tailor. All the buildings are made of three kinds of brick, all of it clean and nicely scrubbed from all the steam power here. Over our heads, the sky is pure white with the steam itself from the factories. I catch the bright glimmer of a drone off in the distance.

I see you, bastard. I don't trust you.

“Which way do we go?” he wonders aloud.

“God, I don't know—this way?”

We cross the cobblestones towards the bakery and the sight of all those baked goods out front. I feel my stomach churning at the sight of it. No, not yet, Joey.

We stride along the sidewalk past another bank and some little boutiques. The potato smell gives way to the sweet smell of molasses. There's a grinding of gears and a gushing sound right in front of us. Lars huddles closer to me.

“I don't like this,” he admits to me.

“It's alright—we'll find our way through here.”

At least I hope we do.

The sidewalk curves around a brick wall. Looming off in the distance through the white glare is a white sign with a brick red triangle right in the middle. We're heading right into a roundabout. Lucky for us, we're on foot. But still. Right after that roundabout is another roundabout. And another. And another with a big black round clock much like the one in Grand Central, with a pearly white face and thick black hands.

“What is this, some kind of gag?” Lars and I say at the same time as we reach the sixth roundabout and the sign is still big and looming in our view. We stop and take a glimpse at one another, and then we burst out laughing.

“The fact you and I thought of that at the same time!” I declare to him.

“I know, right?”

We keep laughing and then I catch a whiff of potatoes again to our right. I gesture down the sidewalk and we head on along another brick wall, a lower one this time and one that's holding back some kind of junkyard. At one point, I take a peek over the wall to find a myriad of those air conditioners Matt had told me about before. Amongst all of those are scraps of old metal, springs, screws, and all manner of things that the cybernetics coming our way are about to render obsolete. They're about to render us all obsolete. All of it.

Wait, why am I thinking like this?

I take a glimpse upward to find a drone lingering over our heads. That smooth metallic body shining so bright in the glare made by the morning sun.

Without a sound.

“You think that thing might drop a nuke on us?” Lars quips, out of breath from all the walking we've done. And I know he's looking at the drone, too.

“God, I hope not.”

“If it does—Joey—I hope it's a dud.”

“Well, if it's a dud, what would we do with something like that?”

“I don't know!”

“What do you mean, you don't know?”

“I really don't know! I'm not a nuclear scientist!”

“Shit—let's just cross the street. I mean, we can't keep walking the streets of Bostonia with it being this risky after all.”

“Hope there's no trucks with radioactive waste headed our way…”

“Or radioactive molasses for that matter! That's even worse!”

The soles of our boots clomp over the cobblestones to the other sidewalk. We round another corner and the fear of getting vaporized subsides. I turn my head to find the drone floating in the opposite direction.

I shake my head and take off my sunglasses for a second to rub my eyes.

“Wow, nice place,” Lars remarks. I keep my eyes shut as I put my shades back on. I lift my head to see the house, the house of Morlente.

“This is it,” I declare, holding my arms out as if beholding a masterpiece.

“This is it?”

“The house that Maya led Angeline and me back to.”

I guide him to the front of the yard. Since neither of us are a reporter from the New York Times, I gesture for Lars to duck down with me. Since it's breakfast time, I'm sure Mike and Maya are awake at the moment. Heaven help us if either of them look out either of those front windows at us. I lead him to the same side of the house I was that one night, except instead of ducking around the corner, we're down beneath the window.

“Okay, so what happened here when you and Angeline were here?” he starts in a hushed whisper.

“Maya let us inside and Michael gave us dinner. I went in around back and that's where he caught me but he was cordial, though. Which—I still find really weird.”

“Huh.” From behind his shades, I see him raise an eyebrow. “Okay, so what do we do?”

“I say we take a peek. Let's see how this household really is. If Maya really did lie to us that bad and that much, surely she must be lying about her home life, especially after what happened to Candace.”

Since we did a lot of walking, my heart is pounding inside of my chest. I let out a low whistle to calm it down.

And then I lift my head to the window sill for a peek inside.