#they Need a fucking forehead touch scene is what they need. please god we need to balance it out

[quietwingsinthesky]

THE ONLY TIMES THIRTEEN AND SPYMASTER TOUCH EACH OTHER ARE TO HURT EACH OTHER. BTW. IF YOU EVEN CARE.

[stinmybubs]

"I Want you Pt.2" NSFW

AN: Hi hi!! Thank you all so so much for the love on my last post, this one was planned out a tiny bit more but tbh I just want to skip to the sex at one point sooo Teehee. (I also decided to spell his name with the gou lol.)

18+!! Please Minors DNI! Please and thank you! I’m not too good at drawing sex scenes tbh! So I hope this’ll be okay I’ll practice more!

AFAB! Reader x Bakugou Katsuki

Warnings!!: Degrading!! LONGER THAN PT.1

Pt. 1 here!

Bakugou was livid. Not only was every other boy in the class able to get a peek at your ass, but you keep purposely putting yourself out there for everyone to see. Of course he didn’t want anyone to look at what he wanted. What was his. But of course, you weren’t his yet though.

Bakugou found the best way to punish you, to tease back. Maybe leave some soft touches on your body here and there, getting you to want him, crave him, and only think of him.

So, as the time passed in the gym he plotted how he was going to go about this without being caught by everyone else. But seems fate had something in store for the two of you, because you could have perfect timing.

“Fuck I need more water…” you groaned, begging for time to go faster. As you grabbed your water bottle your good friend Uraraka waved to you, quickly walking over to you with her beautiful smile on her face.

“Where ya goin? We have like 20 more minutes.” The wide eyed girl asked, curiously looking at you.

“Well, I need more water if I’m gonna survive anymore of this…or I’ll pass the fuck out.” You say, wiping your forehead with your towel as the girl chatted it up with you before letting you go refill your water.

As you make your way out the hall and to the water fountain, you can’t help but think about how sexy Bakugou looked working out. His skin glistening perfectly on his muscles, oh and the way his pecs just looked so perfect, the way he would lift up his shirt from time to time to reveal his abs. Oh god. He was so hot.

You thought about how his rough hands would feel on your body. How’s he would grab you by the waist, he honestly could easily pick you up without and issue. You gulp as you put the water bottle underneath the faucet of the water fountain. Not realizing how you were rubbing your thighs together and your breathing became uneven.

“Whatcha’ thinkin’ of? Hm?”

The voice made your heart sink. Feeling a sudden weight behind you, his hands grabbing the water fountain to trap you in front of him.

“N-nothing… I’m just thinking how long the workout out is!” You pant, your heart racing as he pressed against your back.

“Really? That’s all? Cuz yer sure was showin off a ton back there..” he leaned in to your ear, the feeling of his breath on your neck and ears made you shudder.

“I-…I don’t know what you mean Bakugou.” You try your best to keep yourself together. Oh how you wanted to just melt underneath him and let him take you right then and there.

“Hm…you think I don’t notice? Yer’ little stares? Ya’ pathetic attempts at teasing me?” He puts the thin skin of the tip of your ear between his teeth, nibbling it slightly. You let out a small whimper, omg. It’s finally happening! You shut your eyes prepared anticipating his next move.

Nothing. As hot as his pressure was, you didn’t realize he was gone. What the fuck? Was I imagining or was that real? Am I going crazy over this man? You panic internally realizing how hot your body was. Fuck, i gotta go home. With that you did not care if you all had 20 minutes left on the clock, you were all hot and bothered and needed some relief.

“Fuck…” you quickly fidget with your keys, trying to get your room door open. “Why isn’t it working?” You hiss, taking the keys out to examen them. Wrong key. You accidentally grabbed the nearest key next to your water bottle instead of your own. The worst part is. It was Bakugou’s keys.

“Oh my god, you got to be kidding me…” your heart began to race, thinking of your last interaction with the guy.

“Oi. You got something that’s mine.” The familiar voice seen shivers up your spine, your heart dropping as you turned around to look at the blonde. “Haha…seems I do” you awkwardly laugh, watching him walk over to you, he had a towel wrapped around his neck with one hand holding one side and behold his other hand. A key.

“And I’m guessing that’s my key?” You point to the key in his hand. He nods, a small smirk entering I face. Oh how handsome he was up close. You couldn’t help but stare at his face, it’s like you were entranced for a moment, watching a bead of sweat drip down his face and off his chin. Oh how you saw his grin grow wider.

“Quite ya’ starin.” He uses his free hand that was once holding his towel to flick your forehead.

“Ow, sorry! Sorry…may I have my key back?” You looked back him, making eye contact for a split second before he made a ‘hm’ noise. His body shifted closer to you, pressing your back against your dorm door. The dangled the key over your head as he leaned one arm against the door.

“Come earn ya’ keys back pretty.” He once again flicked your forehead, grabbing his own keys out your loose hands and walked away.

You were freaking I out. What did he mean? Why did he do that? What the FUCK is going on? So many question filled your flustered head. Omg, omg omg, omg!! Your face burning red.

Katsuki waited patiently in his room, leaning against his own bed, staring at the keys he had in front of him. You were taking fucking forever, all that teasing and no guts to back it up made him snicker.

Knock knock

Finally. Opening the door to see you standing there, your face all flushed red. Cute. He thought, letting you into his dorm, grabbing your keys and throwing them somewhere.

“What took ya’ so long? Fucking thought you pussied out of wanting me.” He grabbed your face, making you look into his eyes. “I uh…was nervous?” You questioningly stated. Your heart racing. His room smelt so good.

"So uh...how do I earn my keys back Bakugou?" You nervously asked as he let your face go, blushing at how big his hands were. The boy hadn't answered you yet, but oh you got your answer when he grabbed your wrist and pulled you close to him.

"B...Bakugou? Why-" you were cut off by Bakugou pressing his lips onto yours, moving the hand that was on your wrist to your waste to pull your body closer to him and the other pressing your head deeper into the kiss.

You were in shock, your eyes wide making eye contact with katsuki. Soon you melted into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck. Fuck. You never knew kissing could feel so good, it got hot so fast it felt like the room was on fire. Your kiss with bakugou soon became sloppy as he effortlessly picked you up by the waist, your legs immediately wrapping around his waist as he moved you over to his bed.

Katsuki released himself from the kiss, you let out a small whine because the kiss felt so fucking good you never wanted it to stop. questingly looking up at him, you noticed that devilish smirk on his face. "Wha-AT" You squealed as he tossed you onto his bed.

"What the fuck Bakugou!?" You shout, super confused on what's going on. Trying to sit up you feel your legs being grabbed and pried open by his hands. "W-Wait!" You shout, trying to stop him from removing your shorts.

"I-...I haven't showered yet I might stink." You shyly try to close your legs back up but he was just too strong, keeping them open. "I don't care. And stop calling me Bakugou...ya' know what we're about to do and ya' still keep saying the wrong name. It's Katsuki." He gently slapped your hand away from you trying to remove his hands.

You gulp, completely surrendering yourself to his will, watching as he slowly removed your shorts. you could already feel how wet you were through your own panties and were extremely embarrassed because you knew he was gonna tease you about this.

"Wow...this we for me? Or was it when ya' decided to give the whole class a show hm..? " The feeling of of one of his fingers pressing against your soaked panties, at this point the panties didn't even matter, you felt how he rubbed his fingers against you fold causing you to let out a small moan.

Katsuki couldn't wait any longer, all the teasing and the thoughts he had of you all building up to this moment. Fuck you looked so hot laying on his bed, face all flushed and completely surrendered to him.

Katsuki removed you panties effortlessly, tossing them aside not caring where they landed, fuck. This is really happening. You felt Katsuki’s fingers slowly slip into you, your slick already making wet noises which made you really embarrassed.

Katsuki watched you, he watched as your body convulsed and your face contort as his fingers moved in and out of your pussy.

“K-…Katsu please.” You look at him with pleading eyes, his fingers felt so good, but of course you wanted more. And you knew he wanted more too. “Ya’ want me that bad huh?” He chuckled leaning himself further between your legs, his fingers still doing their job as his face got closer to yours.

“Why should I give a slut like you my dick?” He questioned, you barley able to answer him over the feeling of his thick, touch fingers pounding into your pussy. “C-cuz…please?” You beg, your eyes slightly welling up with tears of desperation. You’ve never felt so hot and needy in your life.

Katsuki hummed at your expression, he could feel his cock throbbing in his pants, his mind being clouded with lust. Finally having you laying in his bed, it felt like a dream.

Katsuki removed his sweatpants and boxers swiftly, ready to feel you. Of course he couldn’t think properly, not even caring to get a condom…not like he had one in the first place, him being a virgin. He was simply acting on instinct and desire.

You try your best to brace yourself, trying to get a peak at his dick. You couldn’t really due to his tank top dropping a bit far where you could only make out a bit of it, and boy was he bigger than you thought he would be.

His dick wasn’t huge, it was the perfect size about 6.5-7 inches and hell was he pretty girthy. This made your anxiety peak a little. Will that hurt? Well the only thing that’s been inside your body until this moment has been your fingers. So yeah pretty sure it’s gonna hurt.

“Look at me.” You heard the blonde boy growl, one of his free hands forcing you to look up at him, making eye contact the whole time he slowly put in his dick.

“Ah..! Katsu-…it hurts!” You hiss in pain, feeling his dick stretch out your walls. He simply groaned, stopping a little bit to make sure you adjust to him. “Fuck.” Katsuki leaned in to kiss you, trying to help distract you from the pain as he slid the rest of his dick inside you.

You moan into his mouth, deepening the kiss as you felt even more pain writhe throughout your body. Soon the pain easing into a more pleasurable feeling. Oh you felt so full.

“Kats..!” You separate the kiss, leaving a string of saliva from one another’s lips. “You can…you can move” you struggle to say. Katsuki didn’t waste anytime, slowly he started moving his hips. He was trying his best to hold himself back, but you were so fucking tight and he just wanted to ravage you.

Slowly his thrusts became faster, leaving you a moaning mess as your vision became a bit blurred. Oh how you didn’t regret teasing Katsuki at all if it all means he wanted you this badly as well.

“Fuck!” Katsuki exclaimed looking back into your blurred eyes, loving how pathetic you looked underneath him. “Ya’ look like a whore.” Katsuki’s comment made you feel something, you never thought you’d like anything like that but his comment turned you on even more.

“Ya’ like that huh? Like being called a fucking whore and slut.” You gulp, nodding your head profusely as he kept fucking your pussy.

“Katsu…please! More!” You beg, you couldn’t help but give up your own will because you just felt so good. “Beggin like a fucking whore…ya’ so fuckin perfect for me.” Bakugou kissed you, a rough and sloppy kiss.

You felt like a fucking pornstar as you stared at the ceiling when he kissed you, feeling closer and closer towards your climax. Fuck…thought I’d last longer. You admitted to yourself.

Immediately you remove yourself from the kiss, letting out pathetic moans, “gonna…cum!~” you shout, wrapping your legs around his waist trying to trap his dick inside you.

“Fuckin cum ya’ slut.” Throwing your head back in pleasure, you could feel your legs violently shake as you finally came. Katsuki stopped, looking at your pathetic state and with a lick of his lips he lifted one of your legs over his shoulders.

“Wh…what…?” You question, barley able lift your head to see what he’s doing.

“I haven’t cum yet…” he gave you his signature smirk.

Oh fuck. You were in for a long night.

AN: This took me a lot longer to complete than I liked it to. I got stuck at the sex scene because I just forgot how to write it. So I’m trying to practice on smut again! I hope you all enjoyed it I am sick rn so I will proof read this later! Thank you so much for all the love!! Xoxo Stinmybubs.

[britany1997]

Fate Yields For No One

Chapter Four

Were you wondering what the boys were doing while reader and Maria were bonding at the video store those two weeks? Wonder no more! Here’s what they were up to lol

I strongly recommend going back to at least read chapter 3 before reading this one, as some of the scenes will be the same, but from Paul’s perspective:)

Poly Lost Boys x Max’s Daughter Reader

FYFNO Masterlist

California, 1986

Paul’s eyes widened as he realized who you were to him. You wished you could have stopped the word that fell from his lips.

“Mine.”

Paul stared at you, his eyes raking up and down, taking you in. God you were beautiful, the others would love you. As his shock wore off, Paul felt a giddy feeling bubbling in his chest.

He had a million questions to ask you. Your favorite food, your favorite color, your favorite band. Paul had to know anything and everything. (Even if you liked Tiffany or something, he could get over it…eventually.)

As your lips parted, Paul prepared himself to be enchanted by whatever honeyed words you’d speak to him. He reached forward to caress your cheek.

Instead of leaning into the touch as he’d expected you to, you recoiled. His brow furrowed.

“Oh my god I totally forgot I have to go stock things in the back, so nice to meet you, bye!” He heard you blurt out before you moved away from him.

There were few times in Paul’s life when he was actually rendered speechless. This was one of them.

Paul’s brow furrowed, “what?” He whispered as he moved to stand in front of the desk’s swinging door you’d been headed for. Surely he’d misunderstood (wouldn’t be the first time), you had to at least talk this out.

He watched your face twist into a glare, “you’re in my way…” you bit out at him.

Paul’s confusion turned to frustration. “What?!” He repeated, “but we’re…I mean we-” he stumbled over his words, desperate and utterly flabbergasted.

“I know what we are,” you told him, “and I don’t care. So can you please move aside so I can do my job?”

Paul’s jaw dropped.

You…didn’t want him? Didn’t want a mate? Someone who’d love you unconditionally for eternity? Who’d do anything for you? God what was wrong with you?

He stumbled a bit as you pushed past him. “Hey!” He called after you, his ego more bruised than it’d ever been.

“This isn’t over you know,” he promised, resolved to win your heart, even if he had to recruit some…reinforcements.

You scoffed, oblivious to Paul’s plotting. “Seems like it is,” you replied before slipping into the back of the video store.

“What the fuck just happened,” Paul murmured to himself as he rubbed his forehead.

Maria whistled “tough break Paulie.” She bumped him with her hip before she went back to returning DVDs.

Paul scoffed. She didn’t know the half of it. “I gotta go Maria,” he muttered, stalking off with his tail between his legs.

She snickered softly as she watched him go.

Paul shook his head, he was gonna be in for one long conversation when he got back to the cave.

Paul slunk across the boardwalk, hands in his pockets, as he made his way back to his bike.

His head nodded along to the beat of the music playing over the speakers. Paul started to tap out a four count on his thigh as he walked and hummed.

“Are you going to that bonfire Friday?” “I dunno, is Jason gonna be there?” “Ugh, probably” Paul huffed a laugh as he eavesdropped on the vapid boardwalk talk.

A bonfire on Friday did sound fun though. Should he and the guys throw a party? Who would they even invite? Maria? Maria, who worked at the video store with his new mate. He sighed. What a mess.

As he walked, his mind wandered to her pretty face. He wished she would have let him touch her. She looked so soft. He just wanted to hold her. He could be gentle!

He huffed.

Didn’t she realize he was hers? Didn’t she know he’d do anything for her? He’d be anything she needed? He’d probably even cut his hair for her if she asked. As long as she let him hold a memorial service after.

She was pretty, and soft (probably), witty and fiery, and she was right there at the video shop and she didn’t even want him. How fucked was that.

Paul frowned as he finally reached his bike, looking back over his shoulder in the shop’s direction. It’d been a while since he’d felt that hollow longing feeling of being alone.

But he wasn’t alone, not anymore. And whatever had happened back there, he and his boys were gonna fix it, he knew they would.

Paul revved his engine with renewed determination. ‘Just wait pretty girl,’ he thought, ‘cause we’re comin back for ya’

When Paul arrived at the cave, each of the boys were too immersed in their own activities to notice.

On the couch, Dwayne was two-hundred and twelve pages into his thirty-first reread of Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov and from the way Dwayne was hunched over the book, quite literally on the edge of his seat with his brow furrowed, Paul could tell it was just starting to get good.

Though Paul could barely think over the harsh whirring sound of Marko’s sewing machine. He’d been occupied with making patch-work vests and skirts lately to expand his wardrobe. And while Paul appreciated having some extra pieces around he could borrow, after weeks of hyper fixated, non-stop sewing, the sound was worse than nails on a chalkboard.

David’s constant foot tapping didn’t help either. He was perched in his wheelchair throne, seemingly reviewing some ancient documents. By the way he was squinting and underlying, it seemed to be pretty important stuff.

But none of this was as important as what Paul had to tell them. He cleared his throat pointedly.

The whirring of the sewing machine slowed before coming to a stop, Dwayne looked up from his book expectantly, and a little annoyed, David continued his work, ignoring Paul entirely. “I’m calling a meeting,” Paul stated confidently.

“You don’t have the authority to call a meeting,” David said without looking up from his papers, “only Dwayne and I do.”

Paul wondered if he could explode David with his mind if he tried hard enough. How would he know if he never tried?

“Well it’s an emergency,” Paul gritted.

David met Paul’s frustration with a mocking pout. “Dealer’s out of the good stuff again Paulie? Tragic.” He turned back to his papers.

Dwayne seemed to sense Paul’s desperation, “what’s wrong Paul?” he asked.

“I have another mate,” he said hesitantly, “which means that you guys probably do to.”

David stilled at the same time Marko gasped, the curly haired vampires lips curling up into a bright smile.

“What are they like? Are they nice? Are they funny? Are they hot?” The shorter vamp bombarded Paul with questions, making him cringe.

Dwayne frowned, “Paul…” he began gently, “why aren’t they here with you?”

A broken look crossed Paul’s face, “she…doesn’t want me.”

Marko’s excitement was extinguished as he came to Paul’s side, lacing their fingers together. Dwayne softened, quietly reflecting on Paul’s words. David frowned.

“What do you mean she doesn’t want you?” he narrowed his eyes.

“Exactly what I said dude,” Paul strained, “she said she didn’t care!”

David leaned back, unconvinced. “Tell us exactly what happened, start to finish.”

Paul nodded and painfully recounted every moment from the excitement of meeting you, to the pain of watching you leave as he picked up his jaw from the floor.

David stroked his chin, “are you sure she’s a vampire? Human mates are rare, but they’re not unheard of,” he mused.

Paul scoffed, “duh she’s a vampire! She said, ‘I know what we are, and I don’t care.’ How would she know we were mates if she wasn’t a vampire?” He threw his hands up in frustration.

“Did she say, ‘I know what we are,’ or did she say, ‘I know what you are,’” Dwayne chimed in.

Paul scratched his head, what did she say? He’d been talking about what they were, but had she? He couldn’t quite remember. “She could have been saying ‘I know what you are,’” he decided.

David’s hands clapped together, “so she’s human, but she knows we’re vampires, or at least that you are Paul. Unsurprising, you and Marko have the combined subtlety of an airhorn at the opera,” Paul rolled his eyes. “That’s an easy enough fix,” David reasoned.

“Makes more sense too,” Marko added. “If she ran off, it was probably because she was scared. If I was a human I wouldn’t wanna fuck around with us to get bit either.”

“Why don’t we give her some time,” Dwayne suggested, “prove we’re not going to rush into the video store and drag her out to hurt her or anything. We could give her some space to calm down from her confrontation with Paul, and then we can all go meet her together.”

The boys nodded slowly, considering Dwayne’s plan.

“And,” Dwayne added, “if she’s human, we all need to be on our absolutely best behavior,” he shot a pointed glance at David.

David rolled his eyes, “I’d teach her to be on her best behavior,” he mumbled.

Dwayne sighed. “Let’s just give it two weeks, then we’ll go check in on her,” he paused his voice taking on a gentle tone once more, “I think we could all take some time to cool off.”

Paul tensed at that last part, but he knew Dwayne was right. You were a human and you didn’t understand. You couldn’t! They’d have to show you, go slow, ease you into things, be gentle…you were basically made of glass after all.

He sighed, ‘two weeks,’ he thought, ‘I can do two weeks.’

He could not do two weeks.

Not gracefully at least.

By the end of those two weeks, Paul was practically feral. The second the Sun began to fade into the horizon, Paul was awake and attempting to drag David out of the cave.

As eager to meet you as they were, the boys had grown tired of Paul’s impatience.

Dwayne’s evenings consistently began and ended with “has it been two weeks yet?” The dark haired vampire had come so close to just buying Paul a damn calendar.

Marko had had to stick to Paul like glue to stop him from wandering off to the video store every night. On two unfortunate occasions, Marko AND David had to drag him back to the cave to stop him was barging in to talk to you. Paul was like a dog with a bone when he wanted something, and he wanted you bad.

But Dwayne has assured him last night that today was the day, and Paul was chomping at the bit. “Let’s go,” he groaned, annoyed and excited.

“Paul.” Dwayne chastised.

“Dwayne.” Paul mocked.

“Paul,” it was too early for this shit. “I know you want to see her, we all do,” Dwayne reminded him. “But I think we should wait until closing.”

“What?!” Paul huffed, “I’ve been waiting two weeks! Now we gotta wait longer? No way man!”

“Paul listen,” David groaned, “we can’t have a long, intensive conversation with her about vampire mates with random human customers running around, get it? It’s a private conversation.”

Marko nodded in agreement, “it’s doesn’t seem fair to drop all of that on her while she’s still at work either,” he added, “it’s better if we get ‘er as she’s leaving.”

Paul rolled his eyes, “whatever, I bet Fishy’s on my side.” He grumbled as he stalked off to his room.

“You think we should invest in one of those backpack leashes for him?” Marko asked, only half joking.

David scoffed a laugh, “don’t tempt me.”

When closing time finally came, Paul’s eagerness had wavered. What if they explained everything and you still weren’t on board? Humans had tons of reasons to fear vampires after all, you might want nothing to do with them.

He shuddered at the thought.

He looked to his left to see Marko biting his thumb, equally nervous.

“A human mate,” he muttered under his breath, “what are the odds.”

David rolled his eyes, “if she’s a human I can use my thrall, why are you idiots so worried.”

Paul and Marko shot him dirty looks, but Dwayne placed a hand on his shoulder. As tough as David liked to pretend to be sometimes, Dwayne knew he was nervous too.

“No use waiting any longer,” the dark haired vampire reasoned, “c’mon.”

Dwayne lead the way, pushing the door to the video store open and letting the bell ring softly as the other boys filed in behind him.

The vampires maneuvered to the desk together, passing through aisles they’d walked through a million times over.

The silence was deafening as the boys’ thoughts whirled with what they’d say to you. How they’d explain the significance of vampire mates to a mere human.

Dwayne sighed, they probably had nothing to worry about. Even as a human, there’d still be a pull for you. And he could work with a pull, no matter how small.

He’d show you, he decided. Show you how amazing it could be to be cared for, to be protected. He’d treat you like a princess, he’d worship you if you let him.

God you must be his if he was already thinking this way. The tug at his heart grew stronger and strongernwith every step. If you only knew the effect you had on him, on them all. If you only knew you could have him wrapped around your finger.

When the boys finally reached the front desk, Dwayne’s musings were shattered by the vision of your tongue down Maria’s throat.

He watched as David’s jaw dropped when he was met with the sight of one of your hands tangled in Maria’s curly locks, the other caressing her hip.

He’d felt it, and by the looks of it, David and Marko had too. You were theirs, but you were tangled in Maria’s embrace.

The boys were too stunned to speak.

Until Paul abruptly broke the silence with a resounding “what the fuck.”

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[littledollll]

Digging your fics so much! Keep up the good work! xxx

Can I request a really smutty Larissa fic with sub Larissa and dom female reader (masculine) and Larissa and r are in a relationship and one day they’re out for a public event and Larissa really struggling because she needs reader to dominate her so much they end up in a public bathroom just getting absolutely heated with all the kinks (begging, dry humping, choking, overstimulation all the good stuff ya know ;)feel free to add more yourself) and right as Larissa is about to cum the second time, someone (you can decide who) walks in on them seeing absolutely everything leaving Larissa totally embarrassed and reader is just laughing and reassuring her it’s okay and sweet aftercare for our queen🥵 xx

Caught

Larissa Weems x reader

A/n: tryna catch up with requests rn help.

Warnings: begging, overstimulation, dry humping, choking?, humiliation kinda, strap on (L receiving)

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Larissa was needy. Unbelievably so. She was usually so kept together but right now it was like she was a different person.

Okay, maybe letting her know you were packing wasn’t the best idea. Or the constant teasing. But it was sure as hell fun to have her squirming in her seat every time your hand shifted slightly higher on her thigh, how she leaned in whispering those precious fantasies of what she we wanted you to do to her, begging for you to touch her, telling you how much she needed you.

Now here you were, with Larissa sat on the bathroom counter, needy hips repeatedly bucking against the strap hidden under your suit pants. “Needy aren’t you? can’t even wait for me to fuck you properly. Get yourself off like this, I want to see how badly you really want me.”

Once Larissa caught on to the fact you weren’t going to be of any assistance, her hands wrapped around your waist holding you flush again her, allowing the perfect amount of time pressure against her aching clit.

She allowed pleasure to take over her body as she fell forward, forehead resting on your shoulder, “I need you sir, I need you to make me cum.” her airy, quiet voice and whines were enough to convince you.

Her breathing turned into panting and gasps when your hands smoothed up her thighs to her ass and you guided her hips against yours. “oh god- please sir.”

You giving her a squeeze and forcing her forward, her hips stuttered against you with whiny moans. “Are you gonna cum just from humping my strap? Go on then baby, don’t get shy on me now.”

Her thighs squeezed around you as she fell over the edge, holding you still against her while she rode out her high with a rather loud moan of your name. You brought a hand up to her lips which she immediately took into her mouth, tongue swirling around and between them.

“That’s it, my good girl. You have to be quiet okay? You don’t want to be caught do you?” A whimpered fell from her lips at the thought, making you chuckle and lean into her ear.

“Greedy thing. Was that not enough? Ruined my clothes too, how do you expect us to go back out there now, pretty?” You didn’t actually care, but seeing the blush spread across her face was definitely worth causing a scene for. “Please, sir.”

“I’m gonna fuck you nice and slow, and you’re going to sit here and take it. I don’t want to hear a sound or Im making you scream. And everyone will know, that the oh so professional and elegant principal Weems likes getting fucked like a slut in public.”

She nodded against you neck, frantic hands searching to undo your belt, pulling down your pants and underwear.

You didn’t say a word, allowing her to do all the work for you until you felt her shift closer to the edge of the bathroom counter.

She kept her mouth shut as you rubbed circles on her puffy clit with your strap, prepping it nice and wet before you pushed into her cunt, just an inch before pulling out, and repeating.

When Larissa had gotten use to your teasing, you plunge into her aching cunt. She moaned out, both of her hands gripping your bicep with enough force to bruise. You stayed nestled deep inside of her, long enough to get her whining and attempting to fuck herself on your strap.

“What did I tell you?” Snapping your hips against her she cried out, and you slapped your hand over her mouth. “Not a sound.”

She looked ethereal once you started pounding into her. A light cover of sweat on her forehead, chest heaving, eyes unfocused. Moaning when your hand trailed down to her neck and you tightened your grip just right. Her thighs trembled as you fucked her with abandon.

“Sir-“ just as she was about to speak the door cracked open, it wasn’t wide so whoever opened was clearly aware of what was going on, and then a familiar voice, one of your friends.

They could barely talk through their laugh. “Absolutely hate to walk in on this but you’re not being very discreet and somebody’s looking for Larissa so you might wanna wrap this up.”

You snapped your hips, making Larissa stifle a moan and tighten her grip on you. “Somebody needs to learn how to keep quiet, you know. We’ll be out in a second keep them distracted for me, will you? Oh and lock the door.”

Thankfully you had saved Larissa the shame of being completely seen since your body was covering hers. You talked in a calm manner, like you weren’t just caught fucking in the bathroom during a work event, Larissa wished the ground would open and swallow her whole.

Your friend huffed out a laugh and gave you a nod. “Right, don’t have too much fun, it’s been like an hour, your lady here is needed outside.” After that they locked and closed the door.

Larissa only whimpered, arms wrapping around you as she hid into your neck. “It’s okay beautiful, you know they won’t say anything. Let’s get you presentable so we can leave as soon as possible, how about that?”

Larissa whined and you kissed her cheek as you pulled out and adjusted the strap, getting yourself re-dressed much to Larissa’s dismay, she was glad to see that your clothes were indeed not ruined though. “I don’t want to go back out there.”

You chuckled, cleaning up her lipstick and fixing her dress, “I know, but there’s only one way out of here and it’s through that door and to the crowd. You can be a good girl for me just until we can leave right? I’ll reward you once we’re home for being so good.”

She gave you a nod, blush creeping up on her when you hugged her from behind, pushing yourself against her. “Come on then, principal Weems, they request your presence.”

Larissa rolled her eyes, pushing past you and out the door, carrying herself with her usual power and assertiveness. God you can’t wait to break her again later tonight.

[blueicequeen19]

Dirty Hot Pogue Pt. 6

Warnings: threats, violence, oral, mild smut, insecurities, jealousy.

Series ML

You can't help your satisfied smirk as you bring the champagne flute to your lips, watching as the vein in Bryce's forehead threatens to burst. Both your parents seemed displeased as well but you could avoid them tonight if you tried.

You feel a familiar set of eyes on you and you glance over, seeing JJ's knowing smirk as he handed out drinks. It made you blush as you downed the last of your drink.

You'd just had your grand entrance and Bryce's smile fell as soon as he saw the strapless blue dress you'd changed into at the last minute. Along with the heels JJ had endlessly fucked you in. You could tell Bryce wanted to object but it was too late. You were already here and everyone had already seen the two of you. Now his precious pictures were ruined and you felt oddly satisfied by that. You were tired of pretending to please everyone else. It was getting harder and harder to force a smile at these events. Not when you knew what waited for you at the beach house.

You stayed by Bryce's side for as long as you could take it. He could easily kiss the ass of any middle aged person here but you could see the tension he carried in his shoulders or how his hand dug into your waist whenever you tried to put distance between the two of you. Finally, you rip out of his hold and sit down at your assigned table, downing another flute of champange as Bryce and his goons fill the rest of the seats.

"We need to talk about your attitude." Bryce leans over, his arm hanging onto the back of your chair as he hisses in your ear.

"Back off or I'll cause a scene." You growl back, leaning away from him as you fight to remain calm.

"You've been causing a scene all night. First this fucking dress and now acting like it disgusts you to be touched by me. What's your problem?"

"Maybe you should fuck her into place." One of his friends chuckles from across the table. You shoot him a shitty look but Bryce ignores the comment, his eyes wide as he stays too close.

"Drinks?" You fight the overwhelming urge to panic as JJ appears at your table. Your heart starts beating uncontrollably with him so close. Bryce would hurt him. Whether it be physical or publicly.

"No, we're fine. Thank you." You force out, not looking at him but Bryce leans away, straightening in his seat as he eyes JJ. You could feel the angry vibe radiating off him. He'd seen what was happening with Bryce and was intervening.

"You could clear off this fucking table. Think a Pogue could manage that?" Another of Bryce's goons snaps. God, why did he come over here?

"Sure." JJ clips, rounding the table and picking up the empty glasses. It's not until he's made it back around that Bryce's foot shoots out, tripping JJ and causing him to drop the whole tray of glasses onto the floor. You visibly jerk, resisting the urge to go to him. Bryce notices, glaring at you as JJ and another waiter pick up the broken pieces of glass.

"Get us some more drinks after you clean that up, Pogue." Bryce calls over his shoulder, not even looking at JJ.

"Pogues are people too." Your eyes widen at the sound of Kiarra's voice behind you. JJ stands, the broken glass and tray taken by the other waiter.

"Kie, let it go." JJ warns, his hands balled into tight fists at his sides. Kiarra ignores him.

"Did you know that, Bryce? That no one is beneath you. That you don't own anybody."

"Walk away, Pogue Slut. Did you make it through the whole group yet or you looking for some Kook dick to fill your time?" Kiarra and JJ step forward at the same time as you jump to your feet, throwing a full glass of water in Bryce's face.

"Enough." You hiss, turning and disappearing inside before anyone can think. You're almost to the locker rooms when a firm hand grabs your wrist, yanking you to a stop.

"You little bitch. You humiliate me then run?" Bryce snarls, yanking you into a private family restroom with a locking door, away from everyone else. You resist, fear choking you as you claw at his tight grip trying to plant your heels.

"Bryce! You're hurting me!" You cry just as the door is shoved back open and you barely catch a glimpse of a black uniform and blonde hair before Bryce is shoved away from you. JJ grabs Bryce by his suit collar before delivering a brutal blow to his gut with his knee. Bryce doubles over, gasping in pain before JJ forces him to his knees next to the toilet. You'd never seen JJ like this. He was feral and enraged.

"You enjoy hurting women? I'll show you what happens to bitches like you on The Cut." JJ snarls before shoving Bryce's face into the toilet and flushing. You stand there frozen, in fear or shock, you weren't sure. JJ pulls Bryce's head out of the bowl, letting his couch and sputter before doing it again.

"Stop! JJ, stop!" You sob, not realizing you're crying until someone else shoves past you and yanks JJ's arm back. You catch a glimpse of dark curly hair and a red dress, your body bristles as Kiarra shouts at JJ, pulling him away from Bryce.

"Stop it. Stop. Pull yourself together. Do you want to go to jail?" You hear Kiarra snap at him. His face hardens as he watches Bryce cough and choke on the bathroom floor. You can't move or look away from the terrifying look on his face. He'd almost killed Bryce for touching you.

"Get off me." JJ jerks his arm from Kiarra, his darkened eyes finding yours. His dark gaze scans over you before he marches out with Kiarra on his heels. You look to Bryce, your anger finally trumping your fear. You don't know what would've happened if JJ hadn't interveined. His methods were brutal but necessary.

"It's him, isn't it?" Bryce asks between coughs, his face bright red from his spot on the floor. You try to school your expression, not wanting to give Bryce any ammunition. "He's the one you're fucking." Bryce starts to laugh, leaning his head against the tile wall.

"This is over Bryce." You fight to keep your voice even and calm despite the sudden relief you feel of being rid of him.

"This--," Bryce gestures between the two of you then to the door where JJ left, "--is far from over. I'm going to ruin you both. You'll be working for tips on the Cut by the time I'm done with you." You normally wouldn't take anything Bryce says seriously but you know his pride is wounded and he's been humiliated multiple times tonight by you and JJ. That sadistic smirk on his face only proved that he would be out for blood.

"We're done, Bryce. Don't act like this was anything more than to help your social standing. I know you've been fucking that teacher, who's married, and I know about your house keeper. You're not innocent in this so don't threaten me." Bryce continues to smile, staring up at the ceiling with his head rested against the wall.

"And you think he's so perfect? The only difference between us is that I have money and he doesn't. And what about his other little girl friend? You haven't heard the rumors about Kiarra making her way through the group?" Bryce grins, finally meeting your eyes as he confirms all your suspicions. Bryce knew everything about everybody. Why would he lie? Your stomach knots and all the alcohol you'd consumed threatens to come back up. You step back, masking your hurt with a look of utter disgust.

"Go fuck yourself." You turn away, throwing the door open just as his laugh meets your ears. JJ and Kiarra were no where in sight and you were thankful. You might actually throw up if you saw them together right now. You went in the opposite direction of the party and stumbled to the parking lot. It's not until you're alone in the dark that you realize you'd left your phone and clutch on the table back at the party. You groan loudly, throwing your head back. You'd also rode with your parents so you couldn't exactly ask them to take you home.

"Having problems, princess?" You turn towards the voice, relieved that it didn't belong to JJ or Bryce.

"I need a favor." You say, not caring in this particular moment about owing Rafe Cameron anything.

"Name it."

You don't go to the beach house that night. Or the next several. It's not until your parents undying bickering over Bryce gets to be too much that you finally go there to hide. You didn't want to see JJ. You didn't want to face anything that had happened. Rumor was already spreading that you were cheating on Bryce with a Pogue and you just wanted to hide. You didn't want the added stress that came with JJ and Kiarra. You couldn't shake the image from your head of the way she had looked at him. It shouldn't mean anything but it did.

It's still early in the day when you show up, kicking your sandals off on the porch and immediately going inside to make some eggs. You round the corner to reach the open kitchen when you stop abruptly, seeing his shirtless back as he fries something on the stove. You debated running but he'd catch you and you were exhausted. Physically and mentally. You were torn between wanting to fight him and wanting him to hold you. Your life had completely fallen apart in the matter of a few days. It's not until he turns around that you gasp, taking in his beaten and bruised face as he scrapes scrambled eggs onto a plate. His eyes meet yours and you fight back tears, everything else seeming to dissolve.

"What happened?" You choke, inching closer to the counter but staying opposite of him.

"Bryce's buddies jumped me." JJ says calmly, adding salt and pepper to his eggs before taking a biteful. He points to a bruise you hadn't noticed on his ribs and your heart breaks further. "This one is from my dad." His dad was abusive?

"I'm so sorry." Your hands shake as you round the island, slowly coming to stand next to him. He was only in his shorts so he must've still been sleeping here.

"Don't be sorry. Just be with me. No more hiding." JJ offers you a bite of the eggs and you happily accept. You eat together in silence, letting him feed you as you simply just stand next to each other. It's not until the kitchen has been cleaned that he finally turns to face you, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

"So what did Bryce say?" You peer up at him under your lashes, secretly hating how well he could read you.

"He made threats." You say softly, leaning against the opposite counter. Your stomach was in a knot. You didn't know how you'd handle this once it all came out.

"And?"

"And.. he said that Kiarra has been with you and all your friends." JJ sighs, shaking his head and shooting an arrow through your already fragile heart.

"It's not like that." JJ says softly, catching your arm as you turn to leave. You didn't want to hear it. The thought of him with her made you sick to your stomach. "Listen to me." JJ bites out, pinning you against the counter as you fight against him.

"Stop, I don't want to hear it." Tears fill your eyes and he growls, spinning you around and forcing you to bend over the counter. "What are you doing?" You snap, just as he pushes down on your back so your chest meets the cold counter top.

"Distracting you. You need to get out of your fucking head." JJ's angry growl meets you ears in time for you to gasp as he yanks your shorts down your legs and unties your bikini bottoms before shoving his face between your cheeks and lapping up your cunt like a starved man. A zap of pleasure shoots through your body as you reach up on your toes, panting with need. You wanted to get away from the pleasures of his mouth while also begging him to never stop.

“JJ, oh god, oh god.” His skilled fingers enter you from behind, taking you to a swift mind blowing orgasm that has your knees giving out. You swear you’ll hit the floor but JJ scoops you up, taking you over to the couch before coming down on top of you.

“Wait, we’ll make a mess.” You hiss, worried your parents might show up one day and see a mysterious stain on the fabric.

“That’s a job well down.” JJ’s clothes hit the flower before he kneels on the couch, slapping his cock against your clit. You wanted him more than anything. You were buzzing with anticipation but you stop him at the last second with a hand to his chest, that question still at the back of your mind.

“Did you ever sleep with Kiara?” You blurt it out before you can change your mind. His eyes widen in surprise for a moment but the pause tells you what you didn’t really want to know.

“Y/N—.”

“Why didnt you work out? I mean you’re still friends right?” The emotion chokes you as you fight the urge to cry over Bryce being right.

“Y/N please—.” You pull your body away from his, putting distance between you now that the moment was thoroughly ruined.

“Answer me.” You snap, anger getting the best of you now.

“Because we’re too different in some ways.” JJ sighs, sitting down on the couch and looking at you with sad eyes. “In my mind she’ll always be a.. Kook and I’ll always be a Pogue. She’ll never understand me or what it’s like to have nothing.” You suck in a breath and his head hangs, what needed to happen hanging between the two of you like dead weight.

You get to your feet to find your clothes, ignoring as he calls your name. When JJ grabs you again he’s no longer naked but he has tears in his eyes. Tears you hated and didn’t want to see or you’d crumble.

“Please, it was so long ago and we were young. It was weird for us. We never dated.” JJ attempts to pull you against him as you try to leave but you slap his hands away, taking a moment to realize this was your house and you didn’t have to leave. You sit your stuff back down, putting your walls back up as you put space between your bodies.

“Talk to me.”

“I want you to leave and I don’t ever want to see you again.” Hurt flashes across his face for a moment before his expression hardens, his head shaking like he doesn’t believe you.

“No.”

You move to turn away from him, your anger boiling over but he pulls you back, his own anger simmering on the surface.

“Don’t shut me out because two can play that game and you’ll find out that I play it better. I don’t want Kie, I want you.”

Tears fill your eyes as you look back at him, your heart shattering in your chest. Maybe you and Kiara had something in common after all. You were both in love with a Pogue while having Kook status. Sure she slummed it with the Pogues but you never lose your Kook title. Neither of you would ever “understand” him. You were too different.

You lick your lips as you square off with him, hoping that your words will drive your point home.

“I don’t want to see you anymore. We’re just too different.”

[jungkookjeon0007]

Nights in Vegas | CH. 21 (JJK FF)

☆ summary: When Olivia flies to Las Vegas for her first ever BTS concert w/ her best friend, she was expecting to make lots of unforgettable memories... What she wasn't expecting was to end up with the lead singer, Jeon Jungkook, knocking on her hotel room door only to find her in nothing but a towel. What will happen when the golden maknae wants to see her again? Will it lead to heartbreak, or a promising future for them both?

☆ pairing(s): jungkook x olivia.

☆ ratings: (18+) for detailed sex scenes + harsh language.

☆ genre: smut, angst, fluff.

☆ word count: 2.57k.

☆☆☆☆☆☆

He walked me over to the bed and laid me down gently. "Do you want me to get you wet first or go straight into it this time? I don't want to hurt you."

I smiled softly at his kindness, "No need to prep me baby, I am more than ready for you."

His eyes turned hungry and in a second, he was attacking my lips again. "I'm going to fuck you so good baby."

He was kissing and sucking on my neck as I let a moan slip out.

"I'm ready for you Kookie, please."

He smirked, "With pleasure beautiful."

He stood up from the bed, taking his shirt off and as he went to reach for his belt, I interrupted him, "WAIT!"

He looked at me in confusion, but that was soon replaced with a smirk when I continued, "Can I undress you the rest of the way."

"Of course. I'm all yours."

I bit my lip as I undid his belt and while looking up at him, looped my fingers under the hem of his boxers. I slowly slid his pants down, salivating as I was face to face with his huge erection. I palmed him through his boxers for a minute, then when I had him writhing under my touch, I pulled them down releasing his perfect dick. It sprung out, hard and on full display for me. The head red, leaking with pre cum and I couldn't help myself as I leaned forward and licked it off the tip. This caught him off guard and his breath got caught in his throat as he took a deep breath. I swirled my tongue around the tip of his member taking my time until I took him by surprise, taking his full length into mouth all at once.

"Holy fucking shit baby-" He moaned out and began breathing heavily. "You're so good at sucking my dick. Mmmmm."

I smirked, popping him out of my mouth.

I ran my tongue slowly up his shaft and once I got to the tip, I swirled my tongue around it again before pleasuring him with my mouth and hand in perfect sync. He reached down, grabbing a handful of my hair as he started thrusting into my mouth. My own saliva was dripping down my chin at this point, but I was not fucking stopping. 

We continued like this until his thrusts began to get sloppier and I could tell he was getting close, "Oh fuck baby, I'm so so close-"

He threw his head back and tightly shut his eyes as sweat was beading up on his forehead.

He moaned out again, "Oh, shit just like that. Please don't stop."

Never in a million years would I have stopped. Even though my throat was getting sore, I kept going until this man got his release.

A few moments later, he stilled his hips as I felt his hot cum shooting down the back of my throat. I swallowed every last drop as he snapped his hips, riding his high out completely before pulling his member out of my mouth.

He was out of breath, but pulled me up to him, and was caressing my skin. "That was so damn amazing baby. I swear to god. But, now it's your turn."

Before I could comprehend what he said, his hands found my button up shirt, tearing it open as the sound of buttons hitting the floor echoed throughout the room

I whimpered at the action as he kissed my neck. "Oops, sorry. I guess you'll have to wear one of mine now. What a shame."

I moaned when I felt him smirk on my skin, "Now, let's get these clothes off of you."

He stripped me down intoxicatingly slow then grabbed my boob, circling his tongue around my hardened nipple."I love your titties Liv, oh my god."

My head was thrown back as moans spilled out.

I wanted him so badly that I was beginning to ache between my legs. I rubbed them together and he must have known why because he looked at me, releasing my nipple. "Don't worry baby girl, I'll take care of that."

He quickly stripped my panties off, slipping his tattooed fingers into my dripping wet folds, and expertly rubbing my swollen clit. "Fucking shit you're so wet. I want to taste you so badly."

Holy hell. Since when did soft Jungkook become so dominant and vocal during sex.

I whimpered, laying my head on his shoulder as he continued rubbing me.I was a moaning mess and started begging him, "Kookie please. I'm begging you to fuck me, I need you."

He smiled. "Okay baby, all you had to do was ask."

He slipped his fingers out of my wetness, bringing them up to his mouth, and while maintaining eye contact, licked them clean. "Mmmm, you taste like strawberries and whip cream. So delicious."

I grabbed his face and kissed him harshly. Without a single word, he grabbed my hips,  turning me around so my back was pressed on his front. "Let's try a new position, hmm?"

I nodded as he whispered in my ear, "Get on all fours for me like a good girl."

I did as he wanted, crawling onto the bed on all fours. My ass was in the air and I looked back to see him ogling at me. "You know what? Fuck it."

In a second he was on the bed behind me and his hot mouth found my wet core.

"Holy shit." I moaned out.

I couldn't stop myself from being so loud as he was eating me out so fucking good that the noises alone from the contact was enough to send me into a frenzy.

My legs were shaking and I put my face in the sheets to hide my moans."Don't hide them baby. Let everyone know how good I make you feel."

With that said, he sat up and aligned himself with my entrance rubbing my swollen pussy with his member. "Remember, don't hide those beautiful moans from me, okay."

He slammed into me, "Oh fuck, you're so damn tight Liv. Mmmmm."

He was moving a little bit at a time and rubbing my ass gently to soothe me. A few thrusts later, he began to thrust harder and before long all you could hear echoing throughout the room was the slapping of skin and uncontrollable moans from the both of us.

"I'm so close." He moaned out.

"Ahh, fuck me too. Keep going, don't stop!"

He started fucking me even harder and before I knew it, the knot in my stomach finally snapped. I moaned so loud there was no doubt that everyone on this entire floor heard me. A few seconds after me, he was also coming undone, "Oh fuck baby, I'm-" And he started shooting his cum deep inside of me before finishing his sentence.

He rode out his high then pulled out as we both collapsed onto the bed.

. . .

[Jungkook's POV]

We laid on the bed until our breathing returned to normal, and stared at each other as she laid on my chest.

"What are you thinking about?" She asked softly.

"I spoke with Bang PD earlier about our relationship and how I wanted to continue being with you even when I go back to Korea. I told him about all the amazing times we've had together here, and how much I have fallen in love with you."

She sat up and looked me in the eyes."What'd he say?"

"He told me that he was glad I got to experience these things, that he would think about it, and call me back in an hour or so."

She smirked at me. "Ahhh, so that's why you had an hour or so before you had to do anything, huh?"

I smirked as my cheeks turned red. "Shut up." I playfully shoved her, planting a soft kiss on her cheek as she giggled.

"But to answer your question, yes. That's what I'm waiting on."

"Are you nervous about what he'll say?" I stared at the ceiling, thinking.

I'm actually not that scared, but part of me feels that he will put some type of stipulation on the relationship and have several rules that we must follow.

Just then, her phone ringing brought me out of my thoughts.

Olivia's side of the conversation:

"Hello?" "Yeah, I'm with him now." "Okay yeah sure! Let me just tell him and then I will meet you down there in 30." "Okay! I'll see you then! Love you too."

End of conversation.

"Who was that?" I asked curiously.

She put her phone on the table as she answered, "Lacie, she's wanting to go shopping and get some souvenirs for her family. I promised I would go with hero."

"Yeah absolutely! Go and have fun. I am just going to be relaxing here for a bit before the concert. I will have a car pick you up at 7 and bring you to the stadium, okay?"

She leaned in, planting a sweet kiss on my lips, "Sounds perfect, Kookie."

We started giggling until the air got serious the moment I received a text message. I leaned over on the night stand to check who it was, and was shocked to see Bang PD's name with a text message:

Bang PD: I will be calling you in about 10 minutes. I've made a decision and would like to talk to you.. Alone.

We both looked from my phone screen to each other. Alone... that made it much more serious.

"Hey. Jungkook, look at me."

I looked up at her with sad eyes thinking the worst but she grabbed my face and kissed my nose, "Baby, you don't even know what he's going to say. Before you start freaking out.. hear him out. You never know, his answer could surprise you."

I grabbed her wrist and held it as she continued to hold my face, "What did I do to deserve someone like you?"

I almost said it so softly that it was a whisper, but she heard me anyways. "You followed your heart and allowed yourself to do what you wanted for a change and I'm so proud of you."

"I love you." I stated as I smiled at her.

"I love you too baby."

. . .

Time skip

[Author's POV]

Olivia had just left to go with Lacie for the day, and Jungkook was straightening up his room. All of a sudden his phone started ringing with an incoming FaceTime call from Bang PD. Jungkook took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as he answered the call, "Hello."

"Hello JK, how are you feeling?"

"Honestly I'm a bit nervous sir, but I will be okay."

"Right. Well, I am going to get straight to it if you'd prefer me to do that so we can get this out of the way."

He gulped harshly, "Umm, o-okay. I'm ready."

He was pouring sweat. Hot. Anxious. He even felt a little bit sick to his stomach. He didn't know what Bang was going to say, but what he did know is that whatever he says will determine everything for him and Olivia.

Bang cleared his throat, "Okay, so I definitely did a lot of thinking and weighed all options about how this could work for the both of you and I think personally that the only way this could work, is if she would agree to come to Korea with you so I can see what I think of the pair of you. She can stay at your apartment with you, as I think it's best and want to see how serious she is for you and how well you two do together. I know it's a lot, but that is what my stipulations are because too much lays on the line for you to pack up and leave her here while you're all the way in Korea. If something would happen to leak out and we weren't prepared to handle it... it could be a nightmare not only for you and the members, but for her as well and I definitely don't want that for anyone."

Silence.

Bang sighed, "I'm sorry that I had to come to this decision, but I truly think it's for the best. She needs to see if she can handle this life and see if she can be apart of your world before you guys try to be too serious. It can be a lot for some people and you at least need to let her make that choice for herself."

Silence.

Bang sighed heavily, knowing that this was a lot for Jungkook to process. They sat there in silence for a second until he spoke again. "Do you have any questions or anything? I don't want to be the bad guy here Jungkook, but you boys have worked so hard to build where you are in your professional careers. It's my job to protect you and be sure that you are taken care of."

Jungkook closed his eyes and let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding in, "I-I guess I have no choice right? This is what I will have to do to be with her."

"I'm so sorry. I am just thinking about you boys. The possible outcomes of this going south if she doesn't come with you is very high. We can keep you both private in Korea so much easier and you'll be with her all the time at your apartment I'm sure."

"I appreciate you looking out for us Bang, truly. I just need to figure out how I am going to explain all of this to her. Hopefully she understands, I just hate to take her away from everything she knows including her family. Korea is a very intimidating place at first and I don't want to push her away."

"I understand completely. I really do, I spoke with a few of the trusted staff and they all think it's a good idea as well. You've worked too hard to let it all fall apart JK."

He nodded. "I understand sir. Thank you for at least trying for us and I will talk to her tonight to see what she thinks. Could I call you back to let you know something tomorrow?"

"Of course. Take all of the time that you need and if we are finished here, I unfortunately have a meeting that I need to attend. I will talk to you soon and remember to not be so hard on yourself about this or think the negatives."

"Thank you. I will talk to you soon."

They hung up the phone and Jungkook threw his phone on the bed beside him, grabbing his hair. He was feeling so stressed out and didn't know how to process all that Bang had just said. Of course he knows to be grateful that he even considered something as crazy as this, but never did he think he would have to ask her to move to Korea and change her entire life for him. So much to think about, so much to talk to her about and he was beyond exhausted.

He laid back on the bed, looking up at the ceiling. "How am I supposed to do this? I don't want her to leave me."

A tear rolled down his cheek at the thought and before he knew it, he was crying.

Tonight is going to be a very rough night.

[safetycar-restart]

i feel like one of the best ways to torture poor charles is to literally ask him anything while you fuck him or touch him iywkim?

"you want my hand around your cock or my strap inside you?"

"what?"

so you just push your strap into him.

"no! no, please! don't wanna cum like this, wanna see you, i wanna see you!"

so you pull out, and then you start stroking his cock.

"no, no, no, don't want this- god, i don't know what i want, mommy!"

you take your hand off his cock, giggling and running your clean hand through his hair, deciding to have some mercy on him. for now. he's ass up, face in the pillow, looking so good and whimpering so sweetly.

"you don't know?"

"no, mommy..."

"you want mommy to give you both? you've been such a good boy after all."

"mpfh- yes! yes, please, thank you mommy, thank you!"

and you let him cum while you fuck him and stroke his cock. his body just kinda collapses after he cums, but you gently flip him over so he's laying on his back and so he can see you. he's still coming down from his high, his closed eyes fluttering open, his soft hair sticking to his sweaty forehead. you wrap your hand around his cock once again, stroking him slowly.

"no, no, what are you doing? please, don't, 's too sensitive, can't take it anymore, please!"

but who is he kidding we all know he's a whore for overstimulation.

he cums like that, holding onto your wrist after he does. you lay down next to him, knowing that, now, when he's overstimulated, he needs to feel you on him more than usually. he just craves your touch and likes you holding him after you've wrecked him. a silly contrast. he's got no braincells left in his little mind but he's still getting a bubble bath, cause he's a good boy!

OH GOD I LOVE THIS SO MUCH. You're so right this is the perfect way to tease him.

Firstly, this type of scene can only be done when he's feeling very safe and secure. Usually it's best when it's just the two of you for a few days? On the second or third day you'll do a scene like this with him, really push him a little.

Because yes, this is pushing him. He's a soft little thing!! Making him choose leaves him so scrambled and uncertain with no thoughts in his pretty little head.

You've got him face down, ass up. You've stretched him out like that until he's shaking and sobbing, his cock dripping precum onto the towel you laid out below him. He's a mess already, sobbing into a pillow.

"You want my hand around your pretty cock or to be fucked with my strap? Mm?" You ask him so sweetly, kissing his hip and running a hand along his thigh at the same time.

It takes Charles a few seconds to even process the question, cause there’s not a single thought in that pretty head. Not even one.

When he does eventually process the question, he whines and shakes even harder. Because what?? He must… he must choose?? NO! NO HE CANT!! He’s just a little subby baby how dare you suggest he uses his brain?

You push in with your strap once you realise he’s not going to say anything, and of course he whines and takes it beautifully, loving being filled. But then he panics and says, “wait no, don’t wanna cum like this! Mommy!”

You chuckle at him, pulling out and stroking his cock instead.

But that only makes him cry out, “Empty! Mommy no!!! Too empty”

You shake your head at him, though he can’t see it. He really can’t make up his mind. Normally you’d tease him a little more, but he’s already in tears and you teased him while you stretched him out. And well… you’re his mommy, you’ve got to look after him.

“Alright darling,” you say gently, stroking his hip, “I’ll fuck you and stroke your cock, yeah? You can be nice and full when you cum.”

“Thank you mommy!! Thank you!” He says, going back to hiding his head in the pillow and wriggling his a little to get you to hurry up. The poor thing is so desperate by now, his cock hanging between his legs.

You push in gently, working up a slow rhythm before beginning to stroke his cock and the sounds he makes are just sinful.

He cums like that, leaving a little puddle on the bed and then immediately collapsing into it. You have to roll him over yourself, and he goes so easily. He’s such a plaint little thing once he’s been fucked.

His cock looks too good on his stomach, the tip bright red and still hard from his orgasm. There's no way you can resist it, immediacy going to carry on stroking it.

He shakes and whines, whimpering "No mommy" but turning to face you anyway, trying to lean against you and hide his face in his neck, even as he begs you to stop. You both know he'd beg you to continue if you stopped though, the poor thing completely overwhelmed with sensations and looking to you to take control.

You make him cum one more time, letting him lick the cum off your hand once it's over and then letting him cuddle into your chest, laying completely on top of you.

Maybe he sucks on a titty? He just lays there and suckles gently, whining every now and then and crying softly as he comes down.

Once he's ready, you'll run him a nice bubble bath and wash him clean before changing the sheets and giving him even more cuddles.

(Sidenote: you make a game out of tidying up and drinking water because charles's always struggles to drink water after a scene even though he really needs to, you'll give him some water with electrolytes in a water bottle (it's a pink water bottle by the way) and then he has until you finish cleaning up, changing the sheets and cleaning the toys to finish his water, if he succeeds he gets THREE forehead kisses)

[novemberdevils]

I missed the game last time because I was sleepy but today it’s a more normal time-21:00 yayyyy- and I already have my roast chicken and veggies in the oven and I have my soup so let me tell you I’m ready to tackle the rest of this chapter.

Just how lonely does jack feel in the grid? Like from his pov he holds everyone at arms length but no one feels like they are trying to be friendly and sure idc about this whole drivers are besties and sunshine and rainbows but does he feel like he is missing something when he sees everyone talking and he is just standing there?, I do want to hear jack’s opinion about all the drivers pls give me, jack hun I don’t think nico is as mysterious as you try and make him be, also carlos clocked their asses or at least he will in the next few races, “Then he asked me if I knew which hotel Red Bull was staying in,” I smacked my fucking forehead those two are EMBARRASSING, actually carlos jack only knows where nico’s room at dont get it twisted, oh jack setting at the shower floor a depression shower if you will; those showers always leave you so empty afterwards and it makes everything hurts even more.

Luke calling quinn to tell him they had a fight and jack extending his anger to quinn because he may have not been there but he is still involved in the whole situation, jack wearing bracelets to cover the bruises nico left those two really don’t think before they do something huh? And it always jack dealing with the hickies or bruises, nothing makes me more stressed than rain-spa 21 has traumatised me-, ok I will be honest but I know I could never be a driver because I will genuinely have a panic attack when they put everything and sit in the car it feels too cramped, jack needs to be more gentle with himself because believe it or not fucking things with people takes two people more than it doesn’t; and it was basically a boiling pot that has finally spilled, YAYYY FRONT ROW LOCK OUT this Would be carlos 2 pole carlos second pole damn get it boy-already more than your real life had this season-, jack omg ask him what he saw EYE want to know, NICO WHAT HAS GOTTEN INTO YOU carlos can fucking feel what you are doing!!!!! Like really please think squeezing jack’s wrist when both of their hands are on carlos’s waist INSANE BEHAVIOUR.

nico hischier if you WHISPER in your TITLE RIVAL’S ear ONE MORE TIME i swear to GOD SEE ME AND LEX GET IT, when Nico finds him. I said No out loud I do NOT trust those two, omg nico finding luke like that has 100% made luke hate nico more, when I opened the door and, well, wasn’t you.”

Wait I don’t speak English as a first language-as we have established from the mess of my comment and how they do not resemble anything coherent- but does that mean nico was in the room waiting for jack to come? Or did I misunderstand? But anyways it’s insane behaviour to even COME to his room, their dynamics are so interesting to me because THEY don’t even realise the dynamics they have; this scene have captured extremely the nico telling jack to stop ignoring luke jack agreeing and promising him that he will, “Good boy,” never mind nico fucking KNOWS their dynamics it’s only jack who refuses to acknowledge anything, is it normal that I CAN FEEL the tension from the screen?? Like putting the entire section here Nico hums again, a low, almost rumbling sound, the vibrations of it seeming to permeate the air between them when they’re so close. Jack holds the tip of his tongue between his teeth, biting hard. Nico’s fingers are warm when they come under Jack’s chin, tipping his head up, forcing Jack to look at him. Jack feels his eyes blow wide just on instinct, and he misses it immediately when Nico withdraws the touch. He almost wants to look down again, just to see if Nico would touch him like that again. This part specifically made hold my breath while reading you have once again killed it like genuinely I want this specific scene tattooed on my eyelids wo I can see it every time I blink and it still wouldn’t be enough to appreciate it, oh jack showing him his wrists and wishing he was mad because he likes it and hate that he does, nico NOTICING that jack was hiding his wrists oh my god I will be crying onto my pillow thank you, I love when brat jack comes out he is my catnip and no one can take him from me like let polite jack go I hate him but give me brat jack although I don’t want to deal with him because I will end up killing him so I will leave that part to nico to deal with, “I don’t think I will.” Yeah he fucking likes it.

Luke has finally saw jack but he might wishes they didn’t see each other, Jack says, even though he still kind of wishes Luke would apologize first. Jack I get you having to apologise first because even though you feel like you have done something wrong simply because you’re afraid that person wouldn’t do it first, ok I love luke but I HATE when someone wronged me I still swallowed it first but they couldn’t even look me in the eye to say sorry I broke up with a bf because of that, “I think I’m the only one who gets to decide how your actions make me feel.” I will put this on a huge sign and walk around until everyone understands it, luke immediately trying to get the story from him when their whole fight was because he jumps on everything jack does like the media like bravo luke you are getting moved to my never mention list-only trevor and nico remains on the good list, the rest are in the naughty list and luke is in the never mention until I decided they groveled enough-, omg luke wtf if you are so curious about what nico wants you go and ask him and leave jack alone??? Like genuinely why would you think jack would know what is going inside someone else’s mind??, “I didn’t tell him that,” HELOO what?? I NEED that conversation please give it to me like who is lying is it luke is it nico what was really said why did nico lie if luke really didn’t say that omg please tell meeee, omg those two really took it from zero to a hundred just like that but at least jack threw luke out before they really LOSE it, “Get out so I can change,” nice excuse jack.

HE IS A VERY GOOD DRIVER, AND I KNOW HE RACES EMOTIONALLY. Every time im like oh there is no way they would get worse in the media they prove me wrong immediately, omg who let nico talk to the press alone where is his press officer to smack him in the head??, ASTON MARTIN’S LEON DRAISAITL HAS EXPRESSED THAT HE’S ACHING TO BE BACK ON THE PODIUM THIS WEEK. I laughed the foreshadowing is so hilarious.

Ok I will be stopping here so I can answer you back and we will continue on another day where we will be back to 3am puck drop-pain-.

very lonely. maybe i need to do more with that... hm. he kind of doesn't believe in having friends on the grid, so he does hold a lot of the other drivers at arms length because he somehow views it as "protecting" himself. he definitely can talk to a lot of the others drivers, and i don't think he would be shunned or anything if he were to approach the others and try joining their conversation, but he doesn't do it enough to really know how. occasionally, he realizes how little he knows about most of the guys on the grid and it kind of kills him but he also doesn't really care. all he needs to be is civil with everyone, at least until they do something to wrong him. i probably will go into that some more at some point in the fic proper i will need to find the time and place... much to think about...

unfortunately carlos has a brain and jack and nico do not so they have landed themselves in a bit of a Situation. jack is right when he tries making himself feel better with "well the truth is so outlandish that nobody would ever come to that conclusion" but carlos for sure knows there's Something amiss. he hasn't reached the conclusion that they're like, making out, but he assumes that jack and nico are at minimum talking (wrong, no they are not), but maybe he's assuming it's on more of a racing level, or about the championship, or whatever. but he does think it's weird that jack is suddenly being friendly with a rival, so he's not even sure how to read into it, because that fact alone seems completely ridiculous

jack's #1 weakness is being gentle with himself. he like does not know how to do that. he has always been his own biggest critic. luke and nico running into each other in jack's driver's room was very much of a spur of the moment decision but it created a lot of fun nonsense so i'm glad it played out that way. nico is somehow more casual about it than luke is. and okay -- luke was in jack's driver's room waiting for jack, and nico came looking for jack, but jack wasn't there (because he's out wandering pretending nobody exists) so luke was confused when the door opened and the person at the door wasn't jack. i hope that makes sense? i was imagining it as luke has been in there for a while, because he's trying to catch jack before he disappears, and assumes that he'll have to come back to his driver's room at some point. and nico kind of has the same conclusion -- that jack would probably be in there -- so that's how they run into each other

but yeah it is pretty insane that nico just opens the door and lets himself in. like in my head he didn't even knock. so luke was like oh hey jack's back-- wait what the fuck why are you here? maybe that will be a scene i write from nico's perspective and put on tumblr actually... after the next chapter goes up though because spoilers. and thank youuu i'm glad you liked that scene it's one of my favorites! it was insane to write and looking at it after the fact also makes me feel mildly insane

and see luke's plan worked, jack did come back eventually. it just had a detour that luke did not account for. and jack really wants luke to apologize first, but he bites when he doesn't, then when luke finally does apologize, it's not even for what jack wants him to be sorry about. they are absolutely not yet on the same page, because luke does not understand, as jack keeps insisting. luke didn't apologize for what jack wants him to be sorry for because he still doesn't understand how what he said was so wrong. writing confusing people is soooo fun omg i did actually Originally intend for this apology scene to be The apology scene and the entire fight was going to be over but then it turned into This and the argument stayed unresolved so like! here we are! Somebody is lying to jack about what happened when nico and luke spoke, and luke somehow still isn't sorry about what he said to hurt jack (because he still doesn't understand), and it's actually arguably going worse than it was before, even though they both said sorry. funny how that works sometimes isn't it

don't worry the liar will be revealed in monaco. i've already written the scene

oh yeah and then i made nico say some absolutely bonkers shit. i mean, he's right, but did you really have to call the guy out like that man? evil. yeah obligatory leon draisaitl foreshadowing bc i already knew what was going to happen. oops!

[idontplaytrack]

Could I request protective Jo's Cleary-Lopez, where she maybe has to throw a punch or two and reader finds it extremely extremely hot

✧ Sweet Revenge

Jos Cleary-Lopez x fem!reader

Warnings: coarse language, violence, sexual assault mentions, tiny make-out scene

In which Jos stops a guy’s unwanted advances on you- with a punch (or two)

Requested? Yes / No

“Hey, Jane. Have you seen y/n?”

“No, sorry.”

“Oh, my god. y/n, pick up, please!” Jos said to herself, pushing way out of your favourite coffee shop.

“Jos! Wait- you didn’t let me finish. Ella saw her go to the bar nearby.”

“Oh, God. Thank you, thank you.” Jos continues exiting the place, bumping into Ella on her way out- she’d just came back from her break.

It wasn’t late at night, but Jos was worried the second she heard about where you were headed this evening. The minute you revealed your plans to go to a bar, she got a feeling in her gut that something was about to happen. You called her a worrywart for it, because usually, even though she wasn’t wrong, they never turned out to be that serious. But of course, you had The Power now, you could take care of yourself. Jos ran the two blocks to the bar that Jane told her the name of.

It was insanely crowded. She literally had to weave through group of people in that place and keep her eyes peeled for you. Jos had no idea what you were wearing tonight- and she’d asked. But you didn’t answer.

“Hey, you see her in here?” Jos asks the bartender.

“She’s been in the bathroom awh-”

“Fuck you!” Jos’ ears perked up at your cry, making a mad dash for the bathroom. “Move! Get out of the way.”

When Jos stepped into the bathroom, she sees a guy practically fly out from a stall, hit his head and fell. “Freak!” He screamed.

Jos ran into that stall, but not before zapping the hell out of him and giving him a couple of punches to the face, “I knew it, asshole. You’re lucky I don’t kill you right this second because I sure as hell can.”

The guy scurries off before Jos could do anything else. You were so out of it, she didn’t know what to do. But could see the blood on your inner thigh. Her blood ran cold as she took a second to collect herself before helping you up. “We’re going to the hospital.”

You told her shakily that you didn’t want that, but she insisted. “y/n, please. It’s just to be safe.”

“I couldn’t have been safer- yet he still got to me.”

“What did he do?”

“What do you think, Jos?” You asked harshly, getting into the front seat of her car unsteadily, “I don’t want to go to the hospital, I’m fine. I fought him off. The blood is from him clawing at me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I just want to go home and get some sleep, please. Jos, I can’t take anymore of this anymore- this night.

————

Jos took you home, got you ready and tucked into bed. “Do you want me to stay with you?”

“Actually, yeah. Will you? Please?”

“Of course, y/n.” She stays seated, “Do you want anything? Water? A snack?”

“No, I’m good. Really, he didn’t do anything more then try to touch me and then try to put his fingers in-”

“y/n, I got it. You don’t have to say it.” Jos stops you.

“That’s I zapped him. And he…flew. Guess this is why we got The Power.” You sighed softly.

She nodded in agreement, “Did you clean the blood off?”

“No, I’m tired.” You shook your head no and just snuggled under your blankets.

“Those scratches looked pretty bad, y/n. What if they get infected?”

“Jos, please.” You pleaded, “Thank you for helping me, but I’m just feeling a lot right now and I can’t-”

“I’m sorry, y/n.” Her eyes softened, “I’m just worried. I’ll let you sleep, alright? I’ll be on the chair if you need anything.” Before Jos got up, she presses a kiss to your forehead and caressed your cheek.

‘I’m sorry I just let you go on your own. I should’ve been there with you and this wouldn’t have happened.’ She thought to herself as she sat down on the armchair by your bay window, watching you sleep. Jos was so glad that it wasn’t the worst case scenario that she’d witnessed, but it was no denying that it was a traumatic event.

Neither of you brought up what happened that night again. It was as though it hadn’t happened. Friday afternoon, after school let out, you were with Jos at a park near her place. Just to hangout, as usual. A couple bags of chips and a can of soda each.

“That night, what happened…I just wanted to tell you that the next morning, after you left I went to see a doctor. She said I was fine, Like, there’s nothing I need to be concerned about other than the fact that one of the scratches might leave a bit of a scar. But the bruises, and the fact that he tried to touch me…they took note of it and I made a report after they gave me an exam. But there’s no guarantee they’ll even go forward with it because…that’s a problem they have. I even scratched him too so they actually managed to get his DNA.”

“We know that guy. He goes to our school.”

“I know that. Just that- if they end up going anywhere with the investigation, they probably would ask me to pick him out of a lineup or something.”

“You already talked to the police?”

“Yeah, that morning I did.”

Jos replies with a solemn ‘okay’, “I’m just glad you’re okay. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you better.”

“Jos, you did what you could. But I still went against your advice.” You stopped her. “It’s not your fault.”

Jos looked at you and gave you a small smile, her hand reached down into the bag of chips at the same time you did- her hand brushed against yours, causing a literal spark to be felt. “Sorry.” Jos chuckles, pulling her hand away.

“Jos, can I tell you something?” You cleared your throat, “When I saw you punching that guy, I was…wow. I don’t know- I just liked that for some reason.”

“What are you saying?” Jos asked quietly.

“That, that moment. Made me realise, you are the one I’ve had feelings for all this time. That was really-” You revealed. She cuts you off before you finish your sentence, cupping your cheek, “Can I give you a kiss?”

You gave Jos a quick nod, responding by leaning in. She presses her lips against yours, both of your lips moving in sync. “I like you, too.”

[justice4billy]

Baby,it's a secret

The big one! Birth scenes, fluffness, Billy being a horn dog and lots of bad language don't swear kids!

Chapter Twenty-One

Taglist: @tempt-ress

BILLY POV

Time stood still for Billy in that moment. He wasn't the type of person who experience panic or shock, but in that moment his mind turned inside out as he tried to figure out what to do.

"Ahh fuck" Cassie hissed bringing him out of his head.

"Cass" Billy called softly as he gently touched her arm, only for her to grip his hand squeezing it tight. "We need to get you to the hospital" he stated trying not to grimace at her vice grip.

"I cant" she winced.

"You got no choice" he snapped at her. He breathed through his nose trying to calm himself down, he couldn't leave her here but he also didn't have the patience to try and argue with her.

"I can't stand up" she groaned hunched over.

"You gotta try" he stated curling his lip slightly, as he tried to think of what to do next. He thought about all the painful situations he had been in, everytime his father would strike a blow that felt like his guts would drop out of his stomach, he did one thing; he breathed through it all. "Cass, look at me" he instructed slowly as she lifted her head up. Billy took the time to slowly caress her cheek with the back of his hand in a soothing gesture. "You gotta breathe" he instructed.

Cassie nodded breathing in and out in short and fast pants. "No, like this" Billy instructed gently as he took a deep breath in and slowly exhaled. He watched at the girl followed his lead until they were both  breathing in and out, their faces inches apart and in that moment all Billy wanted to do was kiss the shit out of her. But it wasn't the right time just yet.

"Okay, I'm gonna find a phone and call an ambulance" he stated.

"No!" Cassie cried gripping onto his forearm. "Please, don't go" she panted out as tears sprung in her eyes.

Billy reached out to brush the stray hairs that stuck to her forehead, pushing them out of her eyes before his hand was back on her cheek. "I ain't leaving you sweetheart" he murmured. "But I gotta make this phone call, you think you can be strong for me?" He whispered his hand caressing her cheek before softly gripping her jaw.

"I don't want to be alone" she hiccuped around a sob. "Please, don't leave me Billy" she begged her brown irises shining with unshed tears. Fuck, he hated seeing her like this and he hated the effect it had on him, like his chest and everything in it would cave in if he let her go.

"Fuck" he swore under his breath, turning to look at his Camaro saddling beside the curb. "Fuck" he swore again. He loved his car and spent so much time making sure it ran smoothly and looked good. He was going to go insane if it ended up with a baby on the front seat, but he had no choice. "Come on" he urged taking a hold of her arm and slinging it over his shoulder whilst his hand supported her hip.

"What are you doing?" Cassies eyes widened in panic as she looked at the vehicle.

"I'm driving you" Billy replied.

"No, what if I mess your car up? I'm not giving birth in a car" she protested.

"Fuck, you don't have a choice" he swore at her. "If you don't move your gonna give birth on some guys front lawn, do you want that?" He asked her in frustration.

Cassie widened her eyes. "No" she muttered shaking her head.

"Come on then" he stated urging her to move as the girl slowly waddled towards the car. Billy huffed making sure she was strapped in before slamming the door and racing towards the drivers seat, he hardly had time to think before he was racing off towards the hospital and praying they made it on time.

........................................................................

"Pull up over here" Cassie instructed as she pointed towards the drop off zone.

"I swear if I get a ticket" Billy fumed as he floored it into the space before sharply breaking.

"God, I'll pay" Cassie stayed before letting out another moan as she grabbed her stomach. "Fucking shit this hurts" she whined whilst cursing.

Billy felt his dick twitching between his jeans, why the fuck did that turn him on so much? He needed to fucking focus he cursed himself, before jerking the car door open and running towards the passenger side.

"Come on" he grunted as he undone Cassie's belt and looped her arms around his neck before lifting her up and out of the car. She barely had time to stand before he dragged her through the hospital doors. "HEY!" He bellowed. "MY GIRLFRIENDS IN LABOUR" he bellowed as a nurse came running down the corridor with a wheelchair and helped Cassie in.

"Dont go" Cassie stated looking him dead in the eyes, reaching her hand out to him.

Billy sighed. He thought he could just drop her off and be done with it all, ir wasn't his responsibility to stay and see this baby be born, it wasn't even his baby. But seeing the way Cassie was looking at him right now, he realised she was alone in this and for some reason that thought tugged on the heart he didn't think he had.

"I'll be right behind you" he promised her watching as the Nurse wheeled her down the corridor.

He stood rooted to the spot for a moment, looking over his shoulder at the entrance. He could easily just slip out and walk away, sure she may notice but she wouldn't care with all she was going through. But then he remembered his Mom telling him the story about the day he was born, how she was alone because his father got too drunk in bar downtown and never showed up to his birth. He wasn't a going to be a Dad, but he would always be a better man than Neil.

He turned around and faced the direction that Cassie went in, before his feet moved on their own accord and he took off down the corridor. His boots squeaked against the linoleum floor, the screams echoed inside his mind as he stopped outside a room and peeked in. He saw her laying there and screaming in pain, his mother flashed in his mind as he opened the door and charged into the room.

"Sir, you can't be in here" a nurse stated giving him a strnage look.

"Billy" Cassie gasped reaching her hand out.

Billy ignored the nurse as he took a step forward and connected their hands. "I'm right here" he whispered to her.

"Sir, you need to leave" the same nurse urged him.

"No, he can't go" Cassie cried as she winced in pain.

"Are you the father?" She asked him.

Billy hesitated. "I-" he began.

"He's my birthing partner" Casssie gasped out.

The nurse nodded. "Just hold her hand and encourage her to breath" she urged him.

Billy gulped. He didn't have time to register Cassie's words before he was by her side and linking their hands together.

"He can't be here" Cassie cried. "He is too early" she cried her face red and stained with tears.

"Hey" Billy stated softly his eyes boring into hers. "You gotta be strong for him" he urged.

"But, he can't be here yet" Cassie groaned.

"4cm dilated hun" the nurse called out.

"I know you're scared Cass" he started. "But maybe he couldn't wait any longer to meet his momma" he added softly.

"Billy" Cassie stated with a hiss.

"Yeah?" He asked.

"Call Eddie for me" she requested.

Billy nodded as he loosened his grip on her hand before turning away, he heard her groaned before he felt her hand tug on his jacket.

"No, not yet don't go" she rushed out.

Billy nodded taking her hand. "I ain't going anywhere" he stated.

"Shit" Cassie hissed. "I need this baby out of me" she cried out.

"Can you give her something?" Billy bit out in frustration glaring at the nurses.

"We have given her some gas and air" the nurse stated. "I'm preparing an epidural if its something she wants" the nurse informed them.

"Give me anything" Cassie begged as she continued to hiss in pain and squeeze Billy's hand.

"Ow, fuck" Billy cursed out under his breath. Since when did she have such a grip.

"I wanna push" Cassie whined.

"You're only 6cm dilated honey" the nurse informed her.

"How long does she have to wait?" Billy asked.

"Till at least 10cm" she informed them.

"10cm!" Cassie screamed out. "No, that's too long" she whined. "I'm so tired" she mumbled her eyes fluttering.

"Hey, stay awake" Billy urged giving her cheek a light tap.

"I'm sleepy" Cassie mumbled groggily.

"What the hell?" Billy murmured feeling confused. How can she be screaming one moment then tired the next?

"It may be the side effect of the epidural" the nurse informed him. "Try to keep her awake she's going to need her energy soon" she stated.

"Come on Cass, you need to wake up" he informed her. "You wanna see this kid be born right?" He asked her.

Cassie smiled with a small nod. "Yes" she muttered her eyes fluttering as she turned to face him.

"Then you need to stay awake" he replied.

"It hurts and feels like ages" Cassie murmured.

"You've made it through an hour already" he informed her.

"I can't do it" she mumbled.

"Yes you can" Billy urged her.

"You're a good person Billy" she mumbled.

"We all know that ain't true" Billy responded trying not to overthink her words.

"You're better than me" she responded.

"Hey, just focus for a bit" he urged her trying to ignore her words and the meaning behind them. She couldn't have done anything that bad, sure she got pregnant but that didn't make her a bad person.

"You're nearly there sweetheart" the nurse called out.

"Have some of this stuff" Billy urged her before passing her the gas and air.

Cassie grabbed at it before wrapping her lips around the tube and engulfing it like her life depended on it. And for some reason that turned Billy the fuck on, Jesus he really needed to get laid.

"You like that?" He asked her with an amused smile as Cassie nodded. "Didn't think it would be that easy to shut you up" he stated.

"Idiot" she mumbled as she swatted his arm.

Billy chuckled. "Dork" he responded.

"Hon, you're 10cm dilated now" the nurse informed her.

"How long has it been?" Cassie asked.

Billy looked at his watch. "About four hours" he responded.

"When you feel a contraction I want you to push" she stated.

"I'm scared" Cassie whimpered.

"I got you" Billy responded gripping her hand.

"Ready and push!" The nurse commanded.

Billy swore he felt his hand go numb as Cassie squeezed down, the ferral screams that left her mouth made him glad to be a man.

"I can't carry on" she cried out.

Billy reached out to touch her face. "Almost there" he whispered to her.

"Keep on pushing I can see the head" the nurse informed them.

"Fuck" Cassie cursed before letting out another cry as her hand clamped down on Billy's.

A few hours later a small cry was heard across the room, a bundle in blue blankets placed into Billy's arms.

"Congratulations Dad" the nurse replied giving him a smile.

He didn't even have time to process her words as he stared down at the bundle in his arms, bright blue eyes stared right back at him.

"Cass" he muttered as he looked up and saw Cassie asleep in bed. "What happened?" He choked out.

"Poor dear just passed out" the nurse informed him. "She will wake soon" she replied with a smile.

Billy nodded. "Looks like it's gonna be a while" he muttered to the child in his arms as he sat down on the plastic chair. "Let's wait for your momma" he stated.

Cassie's POV

Cassie swore her heart stopped momentarily as she blinked open her eyes. The sight infront of her had her sitting up in bed suddenly, the guilt hitting her like a steam train.

Billy was holding their baby in his arms as they both slept soundly. She watched as Billy looked completely relaxed, his chest rising up and down as their son did the same.

She stirred slightly in bed, the creaks springing and disturbing Billy who groaned before opening his eyes. "Hey" he drawled his eyes meeting Cassie. "Wanna hold him?" He rasped out.

Cassie gave him a weak smile. "I'd love too" she responded.

"Ready to meet your momma little man?" Billy asked as he stood up.

Cassies heart beat rapidly at the soft way Billy spoke to his son, he didn't even know this baby was his and yet he spoke like they were one big happy family. Cassie felt sick with guilt but she decided to ignore it as Billy placed the baby in her arms.

Bright blue eyes looked up at her curiously. "Hi, little one" she cooed so softly her heart could burst.

"Whats his name?" Billy asked.

"Jude" Cassie replied.

Billy laughed. "Like the song?" He asked.

Cassie furrowed her brows. "Didn't think you liked the Beatles" she commented.

"Lot of things you don't know about me darling" Billy responded with a wink.

Cassie smiled. "Thank you" she blurted. "For being there" she finished.

"Couldn't let you be alone" Billy responded with a shrug.

Cassie sighed feeling the guilt push up to the surface, it was now or never. "Hey, Billy I wanted to tell you something" she started.

"Hey, there you are" a voice called out cutting off their moment.

Cassie and Billy looked towards the door. Eddie stood in the doorway with a grin on his face. The moment had been effectively ruined. Dammit.

"I'm gonna go for a smoke" Billy stayed popping a cigarette in his mouth. "Leave you two to talk" he mumbled as he gave Cassie one last look before walking past Eddie and out of the door.

Cassie watched him go, sadness hit her like a freight train as she realised that may have been the most perfect and only moment to tell him.

[brooklynbear32]

Chapter 2: Confession

Pairing: Chris Evans/Reader

Rating: Explicit

Read the full fic on AO3 or view the tumblr masterlist

Chris is sitting at the table of the trailer's small kitchenette, typing away on a laptop. His eyebrows arch as he looks up from his work, clearly surprised to see you.

"Hey, so, they're not gonna get the rig fixed tonight," you say, glancing at him for as little time as possible without being blatantly rude. "We're not going to get to your scene until tomorrow morning, so you're done for the day now." You finish your news with a long look at your clipboard, as if checking the schedule you know by heart, and turn to leave.

"Wait a second." Chris says before you can touch the door handle.

You turn around and force yourself to make eye contact, wondering if you could get away with looking at his forehead instead. He looks sad, like a kicked puppy.

"Did I do something?" He asks, the words pleading. He closes his laptop and leans towards you. "Everyone talks about how warm and friendly you are, but you barely look at me. If I said something or did something to make you uncomfortable, I'm really sorry."

You stare at the floor, unable to continue looking at the sincerity on his face. For a second, you consider pushing back, maybe saying something like, "Oh, because it's all about you, isn't it!?" That would make him back off. You know it would. But you just can't.

"You didn't do anything." You sigh, looking him in the eye, trying to convince him. "You're fine. Really. It's, uh, there's something going on with me and I've been taking it out on you. It's not fair to you and I'm sorry."

You slump down on the chair nearest the door, your confession taking your last bit of energy away. God, you should have known you couldn't make it through the film shoot without humiliating yourself.

Chris nodded through your explanation, but now he just looks confused. His eyebrows crinkle in thought, exactly in that way you find so irresistible.

"Okay, well, do you want to talk about it?" He offers, unbelievably kindly, especially considering how rude you have been. Your eyes prickle in shame. "My sisters like to tell everyone that they're the reason I'm a good listener, but I'm not anywhere near as good as my mom. Wait!" He's noticed the tears in your eyes and is clearly starting to panic. "I could call her! Whatever it is you're going through, she'd know what to say!"

How does this keep getting worse? Chris is starting to reach for his phone now so you have to stop him.

"No, please, it's fine! I'm fine." You promise, making yourself take a big breath and forcing a smile. "It's stupid. It's really stupid and no one needs to worry about me and in two weeks we'll be done filming and never see each other again and it'll all be fine."

The rambling words came out of you so fast that you had barely processed what you had said when you saw his face fall.

"So it is about me?" He's almost accusatory, leaning towards you like he'd done minutes ago, but with none of the warmth of before. "You said it'll all be fine once we don't see each other anymore. So what's going on, Sunshine?"

Hearing him say your name, but in a voice more like a sneer, breaks you.

"It's about sex, okay?" You admit, your embarrassment so strong it turns into anger, and suddenly you’re yelling, furious. "I've got this stupid, broken body that doesn't respond to anything sexual except you! For years, the only way I've been able to feel the things that are totally fucking normal for everyone else is to look at you or think about you. And that was okay when you weren't in my life, when you were basically just a character on a screen, but having to work with you and talk with you like you aren't the only fucking reason I've ever been able to orga-"

Your voice cracks and you can't say anything more. Chris is shocked, his eyes huge, his enormous body leaning away from you like you slapped him.

The trailer is silent for long enough that you're starting to think about moving to Venezuela and changing your name. Or throwing up. You can't believe that you actually said that. Any of it. Oh God. Maybe you are going to throw up.

And then Chris starts laughing, clutching his chest just like you've seen him do in interviews, and your anger is back.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up," you snarl. "I'll see myself out now that you know how pathetic I am." You're out of your chair and reaching for the door, but he’s moving, too, and grabs your arm. He's gentle, so gentle, but you still can't look at him.

"Sunshine, I don't think you're pathetic."

You look at him, and all you see is sincerity. He takes his hand off your arm but holds it out near you, like he’s calming a skittish animal, which - okay, that’s pretty accurate right now if unflattering.

"I spent this whole month thinking you were repulsed by me!” He’s smiling now, and you realize that his laugh was out of relief, not scorn. “Everyone on set loves you and talks about how kind and helpful you are, and I've spent all this time trying to figure out what I could have done to make you hate me. When I couldn’t think of anything, I thought you must just be this amazing judge of character that could see something really awful in me.”

“Yeah, it’s just about the opposite of that,” you manage to croak. Maybe you should sit down again. You’re not entirely sure this is really happening, but you don’t normally feel so sweaty in your dreams. You sit back in the same chair as before. Chris pulls the other chair closer to you, so you’re sitting nearly knee-to-knee. He leans forward, close enough that you can see each fleck of gold around his pupils.

“Sunshine, I'm going to tell you something important: no one has any control over who or what they find hot. You know Cinderella’s Fairy Godmother, right? I once had a sex dream about her. Not Helena Bonham Carter in the new one! The animated Fairy Godmother in the blue cape from the 50s. She’s the least sexual character I can think of but something in my subconscious just –" He trails off, shaking his head, like he doesn’t have the words for how strong and confusing the feelings are.

“Sure, but at least you’re never going to have to work with her,” you remind him because, somehow, he’s calmed you down enough that you’re smiling.

“Fair enough,” he chuckles, “But I’d like to think she’d be cool about it if she found out. Maybe flattered, or even intrigued.”

The gold in his eyes has disappeared. Wait, is he turned on?

“What I’m not as sure about, “ Chris says, biting the tip of one finger as if carefully considering, “Is what I’d want her to do if she found out. Like, would I want her to just be respectful and never bring it up again? Because that would definitely be the professional thing to do. Or – would I want her to ask me about it?”

Your mouth is dry. You can feel your heart pounding. You know this isn’t hypothetical; he’s putting the ball in your court, letting you choose what happens next. But could he really be offering what you think he’s offering?

“It would depend on what she’d ask, I imagine.” You say, slowly. “What do you think she’d want to know?”

Your eyes lock together. You feel powerless, like you’re tumbling towards something inevitable, but somehow you feel strangely powerful, too. This is clearly affecting him. You are affecting him.

“I think she’d have so many questions she wouldn’t know where to start.” Chris answers, his voice deep, sexy. He's staring you down, like a cheetah waiting for a gazelle to move before it starts the chase. Then he smiles, and leans back in his chair. You almost fall forward, like your body was pulled towards his, to keep the distance between you small.

“Ah, I know what she’d say.” He gestures with the finger that had been in his mouth, as if indicating a lightbulb turning on.

“What?” You whisper, no air left in your lungs. And then he answers:

“I want to watch.”

Next chapter

Taglist: @whiskeytangofoxtrot555

[ghost-proofbaby]

oh. my. god. alright, buckle in, because this chapter broke me and i am going to make you all hear all about it. also it's a bit of a mess and i definitely bounced around way too much. my bad. spoilers below the cut <3 (also anyone not already reading this story - what are you waiting for people??? look at this masterpiece!!! what!!!)

FIRST OF ALL

“Oh—” he looks back over as you lift the bag of laundry into your arms with a huff, “I have a pair of silk boxers in there that need to be hand washed, so don’t even think about putting them in the machine. And, uh… don’t worry about the stains.”

it's not a want it's a need y'all i need him so badly. eddie in any sort of fancy underwear always gets me going but silk boxers? running to costco for my own kirkland knockoffs brb

and robin!!! my baby robin!!! don't even get me started on baby girl showing up!!! so many thoughts on her entrance, but that entire interaction with eddie was just... oddly comforting? the entire energy of them just being besties is so nice and warm. obviously eddie cares a lot about her - he's her beard for fuck's sake - but i just... i love to see it in action. speaking of which...

“Hey Wheeler, did Robin tell you she’s getting new headshots done for her upcoming play?” he asks. “Do you mind giving her some pointers while we break?”

Nancy brightens at the suggestion, “That’s a great idea. I’d be happy to help!”

“Why don’t you two go somewhere private? I don’t want all these people leering at my sexy wife when she’s posing.”

this entire interaction just softened my heart so much. the way we as readers know why he did this, that he's letting robin and nancy have a moment alone together, but i just. ugh. i completely melted fully. also, it certainly didn't go over my head the way he so casually greeted robin. or the way he didn't wear his wedding ring when they were alone in the apartment. it's all these beautiful, subtle details that you geniuses include that are just so so so pleasing to me.

SPEAKING OF BEING ALONE IN THE APARTMENT. THIS SCENE.

Fully content to ignore him until your task is done, you can’t help but startle away when his fingertips ghost against your temple, pushing the hair back.

BUT THEN I WASN'T EVEN GIVEN THE GRACE TO RECOVER BECAUSE YOU EVIL LIL BEAUTIES HIT US WITH

Eddie’s reaction is instantaneous and dramatic – he moans in outrage as he slides all the way down to the floor beside you, leaning over to lightly hit his forehead against the side of your outer thigh over and over.

i couldn't explain why these scenes, amongst so many other little moments this chapter, had me so feral. i was losing my mind, i had genuine butterflies, until chels so graciously pointed something out - the little touches. the soft brushing of them against each other, eddie making contact whenever he can. basically what i'm saying is i'm touch starved and this chapter has somehow made it even worse. kudos, y'all. endless kudos.

don't even get me started on the honey bee reveal (seriously never letting go of that joke that i'm the biggest fan of this story due to my own bee tattoo sorry y'all), or erica and murray. and murray's sexual innuendos??? GOD. you HEATHENS.

alright, last thought before this damn review gets too long, cause lord knows i could actually scream endlessly. i want to point out something that killed me.

him inviting her on tour.

we know it's part of her job. we know she was coming whether he asked her or not, whether she said yes or not. but in that moment, they play into this illusion of choice. like they have a choice, a say, in what is to happen. the same illusion that, with a heavy heart and sinking stomach, i sense they will play into when it comes to their soulmarks and them being soulmates (speaking it into existence. i know it hasn't been confirmed yet but i refuse to believe otherwise and i'm delusional. sorrz again.) they will pretend to have a choice, we know eddie already holds that state of mind regarding soulmates. act as if they can choose their destiny in whether they will end up together. fight it, accept it - whichever path chosen, they will act as if they have a choice.

they don't have a choice. it's the universe's choice, and they're pawns, and i'm getting carried away and probably no longer making sense but. yeah. not really a theory just an observation and word vomit. sorry guys.

thank you for this brilliant chapter and for letting us see the workings of every single amazing mind behind this series. i bow to y'all, seriously. you all possess such talent and it never fails to leave me in awe. i am sending all my love to you all until the end of time. <3

I Will Wait

a soulmate!fakemarriage!au with rockstar!eddie and personalassistant!reader (also featuring ronance)

cowritten by @abibliophobiaa, @blue-mossbird, @breddiemunson, @myosotisa, and @fracturedarkness

18+ only for mature themes and eventual sexual content. fem!reader, alcohol consumption

three (15.3k) | next | masterlist | AO3 | 🎵 shmackin' tunes

in this universe, there is no upside down, the year is 1995, and corroded coffin = nine inch nails. enjoy! 🐝

The next few months are an absolute whirlwind. Corroded Coffin was in the last legs of producing their new album when you were hired, meaning the period of time when they were gearing up for the debut was just getting started. Photoshoots, interviews, preparing press releases, scheduling future appearances, and a million other things all seemed to be happening at once.

In addition to being the middleman between Eddie and the powers that be, which mostly consisted of Steve sending you constant emails of new appointments, you also were quick to learn some of the other expectations that comes along with being a PA for a celebrity. Mainly: house work.

At first you had thought they were fucking with you when Eddie mentioned that he needed you to come to his brownstone in the morning to do his laundry. As it turns out, he was both completely serious and incredibly amused with your ignorance of all the things you had technically signed up to do for him by taking this position. So you found yourself letting yourself into the Munson brownstone in Greenwich Village a few times a week to do menial tasks for your client. 

Today, you’d walked in around 10am, much to Eddie’s displeasure, and were greeted with a bag full of laundry thrown at your feet. “Good morning to you too, Eddie,” you offer, albeit a bit dryly as you place your pocketbook on one of the stools at the kitchen island. “Did the maid I hired not get around to laundry this week?”

“Fired her.” Eddie sounds way too chipper for this time of day, and you can only guess it’s because of his smug smile as he forces you into doing things you’ve tried to work around. “Kept looking at my underwear weird; thought she was gonna sell it or something.”

Not believing it for a second, you still give him a tight smile. “I’m sure. I’ll work on finding another maid to clean the brownstone. Again.”

“You do that!” He calls over his shoulder as he walks further into the bright and airy kitchen. In his black sweatpants and bleach-stained tank top, he looks completely at odds with his own home. It sometimes makes you wonder if his wife, Robin, picked everything out or if they had just gotten a designer to come in and make it like a show home. The first floor is beautifully decorated but stale, like no one actually lives there. It gets a bit more personal as you ascend but it still seems strange to have a home feel so disconnected. “Oh—” he looks back over as you lift the bag of laundry into your arms with a huff, “I have a pair of silk boxers in there that need to be hand washed, so don’t even think about putting them in the machine. And, uh… don’t worry about the stains.”

Oh, how you wish you could smack the cheeky grin off his face sometimes. You mumble an acknowledgement as you carry the bag through the first floor and past the kitchen, passing through an open door frame that leads into the laundry/mud room. Sorting lights and darks, despite the very intense lack of white articles that need to be cleaned, you start shoving black fabric after black fabric into the top load washing machine. When the tips of your fingers brush silk, your teeth clench tight together as you clutch it in your fist and throw it towards the deep sink a few feet away.

Once the machine is started, you walk back over to where the bundle of black silk now rests at the bottom of the plastic basin. Upon first examination, there are no suspicious ‘stains’ to be seen, but you still don’t trust it. Pinching one of the hems between your fingernails, you lift it up to eye level to inspect further, wanting to know exactly what you’re getting into before you get started.

The french door behind you pulls open with a stream of sunlight and a brush of floral perfumed air. Still holding the offending garment between your fingertips, you spin toward where Robin has just entered the mud room, a pair of sunglasses perched on her nose and a book in her hand. “Uh…” Her hand slowly drops from the door handle, a smile stretching across her face as her eyebrows raise. “Whatcha doin’?”

Embarrassment wells up to warm your face, which you assume was Eddie’s goal all along, while you give Robin a tense smile. “Eddie fired the maid again. Said his silk underwear needed to be ‘hand-washed’.”

Robin’s sigh is one of long-suffering acceptance as she crosses over to you, grabs the boxers, and throws them into the running washing machine. “He’s fucking with you; you know how he is.” The sunglasses are pushed up into her hair so she can fix you with her blue-eyed stare. “You can just… push back a little. Don’t let him walk all over you.”

“It’s my job to—”

“Your job is not to just do whatever the fuck he tells you to do. Like, hiring the maid was a good move. He probably would’ve had you over here everyday dusting his little trophies if you hadn’t outsmarted him.” Her smile is warm, almost like she’s proud. “Your job is to make sure he can do his job. That’s all.”

Since meeting Robin 3 months ago, she has been nothing but sweet and kind to you. Despite being your client’s wife, she very often put herself in your corner, facing off against some of Eddie’s more unreasonable requests. While you don’t necessarily need her intervention, it still is nice to have sometimes. Her reassurance has your tension easing, a deep breath expanding your lungs in slight relief. “Thank you, Robin.”

“No prob,” she taps the cover of her paperback against your bicep as she moves past you and out into the kitchen. “Eddie!”

You follow her through the entry just in time to see Eddie spinning toward her shout, an open gallon of milk in his hand and a white stain on his upper lip. “Hey Rob, what’s the move?”

“God, Munson, you’re so fucking gross.” She pushes his shoulder out of her way to reach into the fridge and pull out a decanter of orange juice. “Remind me to never drink the milk in this house again.”

He sets the jug on the kitchen island and leans on his elbow to keep himself in her sideview, a cheeky grin lighting up his face. “And you married me anyway.”

“Don’t remind me,” she groans, although it betrays a certain level of amusement with her husband as she places her palm on his forehead and pushes him away again. Watching the easy interaction of their back and forth, always acting more like best friends than a more formal married couple, has a pang twisting in your chest. You can only hope for such an easy and comfortable relationship with your soulmate one day.

Two days later, you’re once again standing in the Munson brownstone in the early hours of the morning. Or, Eddie’s version of early, which happens to be anytime before noon. You hadn’t had time to find another cleaning service yet so you were elbows deep in the sink in their kitchen, bright yellow silicon gloves protecting your hands from the hot, soapy water as you washed bowls and coffee cups.

Eddie appears at the bottom of the stairs, yawning loudly as he stretches his arms skyward, shirt lifting to show a peek at the ink beneath. You pay him no mind as you continue your methodical cleaning of ceramics, keeping your eyes down even when he walks right up beside you and leans on the counter. Fully content to ignore him until your task is done, you can’t help but startle away when his fingertips ghost against your temple, pushing the hair back.

“What are you doing?” You finally glance over at him, your voice pitching up a bit in surprise. His smile is mischievous, eyes shining in the light, leaning over further to rest his chin on his fist.

“Oh, I was just fixing it for you. Your hands are wet and soapy.”

Exhaling through your nose, you go back to focusing on scrubbing the burnt eggs from the bottom of a frying pan. Over the last month or so, Eddie has gone from barely tolerating your existence and trying to make your life miserable, to being very pleased with your existence so he can continue to push the envelope on making your life miserable. It has become more and more like a game for him – testing the boundaries on what you will tolerate. Both what you will do for him and how much he can flirt with you until you get terse.

After a moment of awkward silence, at least on your end, you move to break the tension. “We should go over your schedule for today.”

He gives an exaggerated sigh, turning to lean both arms back on the counter beside you. “If we have to.”

“Your stylist asked you to be on site by 10am so they would have time to get you ready before the photographers arrived.” You’re barely halfway through your sentence before Eddie is groaning, sinking a bit lower onto his elbows. Mustering a flat look, you turn your head in his direction. “Why are you pouting?”

“I forgot the fucking photoshoot was today.” A ringless hand comes up to rub at the side of his face, still a bit swollen from sleep. “The only thing worse is those stupid press interviews.”

You turn back to the soap filled bowl in your gloved hands to hide your smile. “Good thing that’s not today. The interview is later this week.” Eddie’s reaction is instantaneous and dramatic – he moans in outrage as he slides all the way down to the floor beside you, leaning over to lightly hit his forehead against the side of your outer thigh over and over.

“I swear, it’s like you hate me,” his voice is muffled from below, face directed down. “You hate me when I have been nothing but nice to you.”

An amused snort leaves you against your will at the idea. His head whips back to look up at you in surprise and you barely manage to school your expression in time. “It’s not personal, Eddie. I’m just doing my job.”

“Speaking of your job,” he picks himself up off the floor in a less-than-graceful fashion, his sweatpants running much lower as he rises. You keep your eyes in the sink as you wipe down the last coffee mug left and pretend you aren’t seeing him adjust the fabric around his groin. “I need you to walk my lizard today.”

Halfway through removing the stopper from the sink to drain the used water, you freeze with your forearm still in the slowly lowering water. “Excuse me?”

He’s leaning on his elbow again, a smug smile on his face as he watches your reactions. “My lizard. You know, the one upstairs?” You make a noise of acknowledgement that you know what lizard he’s referring to. “He needs to be walked once a week. Specifically on sunny days. Normally around noon when the sun is highest, so he gets the most of the heat, y’know?”

You feel your eyebrows drawing together in confusion, trying to think back to what you know about lizards. Which, admittedly, is not much. Still, needing to walk a lizard sounds incorrect. You’ve never seen someone walking around with their lizard on a leash. You’re about to start to question him more when you catch sight of his expression. He has his lips drawn in between his teeth, his eyes pinched tight as he tries not to laugh. “... You’re fucking with me.” The laugh escapes as a bark, his palm slapping down on the counter beside you as it echoes out into the high ceilings of the brownstone. “You almost fell for it too!”

Bristling in annoyance and just a little bit of embarrassment, you take a deep breath and hang the damp gloves over the edge of the now-empty sink to dry. “I think it’s time for you to get ready to leave.”

His mirth dies down fast, his head rolling back to sigh at the ceiling. “But, and here’s the thing right, I really don’t want to go.” You make another noncommittal noise, not looking to encourage his antics right now. Neck rolling toward you, that cheeky grin that you’ve come to loathe is back. “Beg me and I’ll do it.”

Another exhale out of your nose to remain calm, you weigh your options. If you beg, you are playing into his games and encouraging antics like this. But, you also get the result you want faster. If you refuse, you are technically standing your ground, but could end up with a bigger fight to try to get him ready and out the door in time. Deciding to play his game, you give him the flattest expression you’re capable of. “Will you please get ready to leave for your photoshoot?”

This time the sigh he lets out is satisfied, his shoulders falling and eyes closing in what looks like relief. When his eyes meet yours again, they’re accompanied by a lazy smile. “Love when you say please.” He taps the tip of your nose, shocking you still, as he turns back toward the stairs. “I’ll be ready in no time!”

He is not ready in no time.

You’re standing at the bottom of the stairs at 10:10am and have still not seen head nor tail of Eddie since he traipsed back up. The car outside has already honked twice, letting you know it’s waiting, but you wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt. “Eddie, we’re already late!” Your voice echoes through the multi-floor space, definitely loud enough for him to hear, but you get no response. Patience running thin, you raise your voice again. “Eddie!”

You finally hear him reply, voice far off. “I got stuck in my pants, maybe you should come up and help me!”

Pressing your fingertips to your brow bone hard enough to pull the skin of your eyelid, you call back, “If you’re struggling to put your own pants on, I should probably call a medical professional.”

The soles of now-familiar boots appear at the top of the tall staircase, your eyes trailing up their occupant as he begins to slowly lumber his way down the stairs. He’s in his usual attire. Scuffed Doc Martens, a pair of black jeans stretched tight over his endless thighs, leather jacket fitted against his frame, those chunky rings adorning his fingers. Around his neck he wears multiple silver chains of varying sizes, dipping low into the collar of his shirt. “Y’know you could stand to be a little more fun.”

You remain firm, arms crossed as you wait for him to hit the final step. “I don’t think I understand your version of fun.” He blows a raspberry in your direction as he crosses the foyer to start shoving things into the already-tight pockets of his jeans. “We’re already late, and that means we are just delaying further when we can get to your preferred portion of the day at the studio.”

He meets your eyes through the mirror before him. Both of you showing an attempt at nonchalance.  “I swear, sometimes when you talk it’s like a fly buzzing around my head and I just,” he swats once, “can’t,” twice, “get it,” three times, “to stop.”

“Maybe you should get better aim,” you offer coolly as you cross behind him to hold open the front door, hoping to get him to finally walk through it. “Or, better yet, you should consider actually listening to me instead of letting it go in one ear and out the other.”

“But it's like a buzzing little bee in my ear. Gets so annoying whenever you’re droning on and on about responsibilities and my to do list and shit.” He walks past you as he continues his rant, bouncing down the small set of stairs leading to street level. You’ve just turned back from locking the door when he whirls on you. “Maybe if you wore something a little more easy on the eyes, I’d be able to focus more on what comes out of your mouth.”

When you grit your teeth, his grin only grows, backing up towards the black sedan waiting for you both. Your voice is a thinly veiled warning when you start to say, “Eddie –”

“Careful, little Bee,” he opens the door, lifting a boot to rest on the frame. “If you get too aggressive, you’ll lose your stinger for good.” Then he falls into the darkened car, leaving the door open and sliding across so you can get in next to him. With no other option, you stomp down your frustration and climb in after him.

You’re not sure what to expect as the car pulls up in front of an abandoned warehouse out on Long Island. At first glance, it’s a dilapidated looking hole in the wall. From where you’re sitting, you can see the rusted metal roofing, the smashed in windows, exposed beams standing erect to hold up the exterior of the building. You knew the team intended for a grungier, broken down scene to represent the lyrics of the band’s latest album portraying a man’s downfall; however, you hardly anticipated something such as this in the seemingly middle of nowhere. 

  Eddie’s knee spreads further right from where he sits next to you, jean-clad thigh brushing yours ever so softly. Your head shifts to take him in, gaze trailing instantaneously to where you’re connected, stamping down the feeling that wells up and lingers behind your ribs with every fleeting moment such as this. His amber eyes are shrouded behind a pair of sunglasses today, tattooed hand nearest to you sprawled over his bent kneecap. There’s a thought burgeoning in his gaze, ever present before he ever even opens his mouth to speak out his reluctant drawl of, “Guess it’s now or never.”

The two of you slide out the car in unison on opposite sides of the respective vehicle, winding around the exterior and meeting to join in the center of the uneven, grassy ground. His lip quirks upward as he takes in the sight of you like a newborn doe on heels that insist on sinking into the ground, head tipping your way in the only acknowledgement of your presence you’ll likely receive. Inside, you’re immediately greeted by rusted over conveyor belts in the center of the room. There are steel beam stairs leading to an upper deck overlooking the central portion of the interior. To your left is the wall least eaten away by rust throughout the years, silver metal spanning from floor to ceiling, with endless lights positioned around the edges of the parameters to illuminate the set.  

Your head tips to Eddie, standing there disinterested as ever, head tipping up to the sky, visible through the broken up ceiling. Like this, you can see every dark wave of hair that dances along the leather of his jacket, the ridges on the column of his pale throat, the tattoos that creep up high along the neckline of his collar, hinting at intricate detailing beneath. And then that left hand settles over the bridge of his sunglasses and pushes them upward, the glint of his wedding ring catching in your field of view, and you set your gaze on the glowing set before you as you edge closer to your destination. 

The room itself is bustling. People shift and mill about the warehouse, carrying various pallets and crates in hand and positioning them strategically around the room in order to create impactful angles for the intended photos. Workers chat amongst themselves with cameras draped around their necks, clipboards in hand as they mark down a list of tasks you’re not privy to. Once nearer to the group, a woman comes barreling over in a flurry of movement. She’s gorgeous. Deep russet skin, dark hair styled to perfection, a tape measure over her shoulder, and a pair of leather pants curled over a forearm. You catch the glint of her artful gold hoops in either of her ears and the bright makeup covering her eyelids. You admire the rips in her jeans and the fabric of her oversized hoodie as she tuts audibly and glares Eddie’s way. You assume this isn’t the first time Eddie’s run behind schedule, try as you might to get him there as close to on time as possible.

“You’re late!” She admonishes, hand dropping to a popped out hip. For the first time since you’ve been working for Eddie, you catch the slight drop in his steely facade. It’s barely noticeable, just the slightest downturn of his lips, but you capture it all the same, knowing this woman intimidates him in a way no one else seems capable of doing so. She turns to you then, flashing you a megawatt smile. “Erica. Erica Sinclair. I’m Corroded Coffin’s stylist. I’m sure you tried your very best to get him here on time, but you see Edward wouldn’t be Edward if he wasn’t late to everything.”

“Fashionably late, Sinclair.” She glances him up and down, clearly unimpressed by his excuse, and curls a hand around his shoulder.

“Says the man who would wear the same ugly ass Hellfire shirt to every fitting when I first started working with you all. It’s a miracle by my own doing that you know how to dress yourself now. Come on, the team is already paying for your lateness,” she says, and without another word your way, she ushers him to a trailer standing just outside of the warehouse, where you anticipate the rest of the band to be readying for their photoshoot within. 

You’re left to stand in the back of the warehouse, trying to keep out of the way of those working around you. With a low sigh, you wander over to the furthest wall covered in sheet metal and broken in windows, looking out into the grassy landscape. A bird flits on by, drawing your attention, just as a voice sounds from behind you. Jolting, you whirl on the heel and spot none other than Steve himself, and beside him, a man you’ve yet to meet before.

The man’s bearded face is twisted in a scowl as he shouts into his brick of a cell phone. He’s gesticulating wildly, dark curls bouncing with every angry movement. You can only catch snippets of his impassioned rant, but you’ve gathered enough to know that he does not suffer fools gladly. 

Steve stands awkwardly beside the man, wincing on occasion at his booming voice. The scene is not entirely inviting, but you have no choice but to approach when Steve’s gaze catches yours. His face lights up in recognition, and he waves his hand to beckon you near. As you approach, Steve steps forward and briefly pats your upper back in greeting.

“Glad to see you made it! I want to introduce you to our band manager, Murray Bauman.” Steve motions you over with a warm smile until another shrill taunt from the man in question has him flinching away. “But let’s just give him a minute, shall we?” You agree politely and turn with Steve to observe Murray closing out his phone conversation. 

“I don’t care how busy you are, get it done TODAY!” Murray’s barking demand echoes throughout the warehouse, and you stare as he rips the phone from his ear and takes out his frustrations by repeatedly smashing the end call button. He lets out an annoyed breath before pushing his wireframe glasses back up the bridge of his nose. 

“Fair warning, he can be… bold.” Steve whispers this warning for your ears only. Just another hothead for the collection, you snort to yourself. You deal with Eddie Munson on a daily basis. How much worse could Murray Bauman be? Steve walks ahead of you to serve as the bridge during introductions. Before Steve can offer an explanation, Murray’s annoyed face takes in your approach with suspicion. 

“Who are you? Harrington, why are you bringing this person to bother me?” Murray interrogates you immediately. He regards you skeptically, assessing whether you are worth his time or attention. 

“Murray, this is the assistant I was telling you about,” Steve explains, offering your name as he beckons you forward. “You know, the one who is currently working with Eddie.”

“You mean the one you forced me to hire?” 

Steve casts a furtive glance your way before his gaze whips back to Murray, the stare holding weight as he replies, “She’s lasted four months, Murray.”

Murray looks back flatly as Steve tries to impress some knowledge upon him with a combination of wide hazel eyes and bushy brows. Behind his wireframe glasses, Murray squints. “Four months?” He replies skeptically, and Steve nods slowly.

“Four months,” he enunciates slowly, and you watch the men communicate through shifting facial expressions: Steve’s eyes implore Murray to be civil, while Murray appears exasperated by the prospect of niceties. Eventually, Murray lets out a groan before forcing his face into a perfunctory smile.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Murray offers, insincerity lacing his every word. His dark eyes cut to Steve as if to ask - happy now? All at once, his mask crumbles and he returns to his brash self. “Do me a favor, yeah? Keep Munson in line. I’d prefer to not clean up any more of his messes.”

“I’ll do my best, sir,” you reply. “It’s very nice to mee–”

“What the hell are you wearing?” Murray sounds appalled, disgust written all over his face. His question makes you stutter to a stop. You look down at your outfit and see nothing untoward - white blouse, black cardigan, plaid pleated skirt, dark tights, and chunky heels. It’s simple and professional. It’s safe. Or so you thought. Confused, you look back up to see that Murray isn’t making eye contact with you. Instead, he’s glaring at something or someone behind you. That’s when you register the sound of heavy boots thudding your way. You turn to see who has inspired such a visceral reaction from Murray, but instinctively you know who you’ll find. 

Eddie.  

He strides toward you with Erica by his side. She looks proud of her work, and you can’t blame her. Eddie looks… well, he looks hot. To put it bluntly. Erica has given Eddie a monochrome look that’s enhanced by different textures and accessories. His black suit is striking with its satin lapels and tailored fit. The suit jacket is unbuttoned, revealing the pièce de résistance - a mesh top that leaves little to the imagination.

“You look ridiculous! Where’s the rest of your shirt?” Murray’s question is directed at Eddie, but his scowl is aimed straight at Erica. Any other person would have withered under the intensity of his glower, but Erica seems emboldened by it. 

“Where’s the rest of your hair?!” Erica counters without a moment's hesitation, arms crossed in defiance. “Leave the dressing to the experts. Seriously, Murray. You look like a sad, middle-aged hack going through a divorce.”

“Oh, spare me, Sinclair.” 

Erica and Murray’s jibes muddle with Steve’s pleas to stop, eventually fading into background noise as you observe the man standing before you. 

You have to hand it to Erica - it’s a daring look. The mesh hugs Eddie’s torso in a way that flatters his lithe frame and provides just enough of a glimpse of his tattoos to captivate any onlooker. His pale skin is heavily decorated in ink, and you can’t help but try deciphering what you’re seeing through the mesh. Eddie’s collection of tattoos seems to pay homage to his love of music and fantasy. On his left side, you spy an unusual string instrument with the word bard etched underneath. Just below that, you see artwork of a dagger with a blade made of uniquely shaped dice. By his right ribcage, Eddie has a tattoo of a mighty dragon with wings poised for flight. The dragon’s claws seemingly tear into the supple skin of Eddie’s toned abdomen. You follow the dragon’s scales down, down, down until its tail disappears beneath Eddie’s suit trousers - along with a little patch of sparse hair below his navel. 

I wonder where that tattoo ends. The thought jolts you back to reality. This is your client— your very married client— whose wife has been nothing but kind to you. The guilt and shame overwhelm you. 

You become very aware that you’re still ogling Eddie’s body, and your eyes race upwards to find a more appropriate location to settle. Unfortunately, your retreat to safety is foiled by the glimmer of metal you spot by Eddie’s nipples. You feel flustered by the sudden warmth blossoming within you. Eddie Munson has his nipples pierced. You had been too distracted by his tapestry of tattoos to notice them at first, but now you’ll never be able to forget that the piercings exist. Great going, you think to yourself, you try to avoid staring at your client's happy trail only to stare at his nipple piercings instead. Well done, very professional. 

To your horror, Eddie has caught you staring. He sports a look of faux disappointment with his plump lips pushed into a pout. His tattooed hand points to his face, and he teases, “Tsk, tsk, little Bee. My eyes are up here.”

Your mind races to find a suitable excuse for your staring, or better yet, a way to deny it happened in the first place. Eddie is looking at you like he’s a spider that has caught you in his web, and you break eye contact to save some face. It ends up being the wrong decision because your mortification only deepens when you realize that Murray and Steve have witnessed Eddie’s accusation. Erica has long since departed after her verbal sparring match with Murray. Without her there to act as the target for his irritation, Murray is now laser-focused on you and Eddie. “Hmm… that’s interesting,” he observes, his head tilting to the side in curiosity. 

“What’s interesting?” Steve asks.

“Keep up, Harrington,” Murray offers no explanation and instead dodges Steve’s question with a dismissive wave of his hand. Steve places his hands on his hips looking utterly bewildered. He goes to speak again, but Murray beats him to the punch. “So, Munson… I hear that your assistant has lasted four months working with you. Is that right?”

Murray’s inquiry has an instant effect on Eddie’s body language. His playful pouting has dissipated, and his stance now appears guarded. He crosses his arms over his chest— over the distracting nipple piercings, thank god— as he eyes his band manager cautiously. “... why do you ask?” 

“Oh, no reason at all. Just curious,” Murray replies nonchalantly. “You must be getting along.” You don’t know Murray well at all. However, you do know Eddie well enough to take his weariness as a signal that things could soon become uncomfortable. 

“I haven’t scared her off, yet. If that’s what you mean,” Eddie scoffs. “But don’t worry, I’m still working on it.” It’s a classic Eddie move -  making a joke of something to avoid showing any hint of being rattled. He throws a coquettish grin in your direction, which does not go unnoticed by Murray. Steve looks uneasy, as if this conversation will upset whatever balance you’ve struck with Eddie. 

“I sure hope she isn’t stroking your ego too much.” Murray’s tone is blasé, but his implication is clear. “And you better not be giving her a mouthful.” Steve can no longer stand idly by now that he has finally caught onto what Murray found so intriguing. He swoops in to intervene by physically placing himself between Eddie and Murray. 

“Well this has been fantastic,” Steve forces a laugh out and runs a shaky hand through his brown locks. “Murray, let’s continue that chat about merch, yeah?” He is practically vibrating with nervous energy as he tries encouraging Murray to move. 

Allowing himself to be led away, Murray offers a farewell over his shoulder, “Good luck, kid. If you need anything, anything at all, do not contact me. Bother Harrington instead.” At the mention of his name, Steve turns briefly to mouth I’m sorry as the pair exit. 

Mind spinning off kilter from everything that occurred in the last few minutes, you turn yourself back toward Eddie for a sense of stability. Since when is Eddie something constant in your life? You find a very tense-looking man. The muscles in his jaw are pulled tight as he glares at the spot once occupied by Murray. The moment ends quickly as if he can feel your eyes on him. Eddie annoyingly seems to have gained a sixth sense for knowing when you’re staring. His crossed arms fall along with the seriousness of his expression, hands tucking into his front pockets. The action only causes his pants to inch lower and, for a split second, your eyes are instinctively drawn to the patch of skin now on show. 

My eyes are up here.

The echo in your brain rings out and has your glance jumping back up in horror. Eddie watches every movement and his lips pull between his teeth again, the same face he made this morning when he was trying not to laugh. All you can offer in defense is rolling your shoulders back to look taller and making your gaze sharper, daring him to say something. He lifts his hands in surrender, his lips popping out into a self-satisfied smile as he turns on his heel and saunters back toward the set, whistling all the while. You begrudgingly follow after him.

Eddie’s pace is unhurried as he drags his feet in a clear display of apathy. You spot the rest of the band gathered around a petite woman speaking animatedly and pointing to various spots on the set. She’s captivating with her high cheekbones, loose brunette waves, and eyes like the ocean. Those eyes narrow upon seeing Eddie’s dawdling. 

“Look who finally decided to grace us with his presence,” she chides. “We’ve been waiting on you. Hurry it up.”

“Hello to you, too, Wheeler. I didn’t realize you were so excited to see me. I’d hate to disappoint a fan,” Eddie teases with a roguish grin wide across his face. Much to your surprise, he picks up his pace and joins the others in listening to Nancy— whose first name you learn indirectly, thanks to Eddie’s habit of calling everyone by their last names— detail the aim of today’s photoshoot. She explains that the media team will be experimenting with several looks in order to use the photos for both album promotion and touring purposes. 

Eddie turns to you as Nancy begins guiding the others to their spots on set. “Enjoy the show. You sure seemed to earlier.” He winks and turns on his heel to join the others.

Deny! Deflect! Do something!

“I was only admiring Erica’s work! It had nothing to do with you.”  You can see Eddie’s shoulders shaking with laughter, and you know he’s not convinced. To be fair, you haven’t convinced yourself either. It sounds weak even to your ears, like a last-ditch effort to save your dignity. Feeling defeated, you slump over to the chairs lining the wall where you can watch the photoshoot concealed behind the photography equipment. 

Two hours pass and the band is still preoccupied with taking pictures. You watch as they’re pushed and pulled into different poses and settings. The process feels overall repetitive, but Nancy does her best to keep energy levels high. She directs the photographers to get solo shots, which leads to hilarious chaos as the band hypes each other up behind the camera. “Yeah, Harry! Rock out with your Cox out!”  

Despite the momentary amusement, you find yourself mostly bored watching from the sidelines. You’re both surprised and grateful when you see a familiar face enter the set. Robin peers around at the flurry of activity before making her way over to you. 

“Finally some good company,” you breathe out in relief. Robin is delightful to be around, and you mean it when you share your appreciation for her presence. She gives you a sympathetic look before taking a seat beside you.  

“These things can take forever,” she commiserates. “But Nancy will keep them on track. Don’t worry. They’re lucky to have her. She’s brilliant.” Her husky voice sounds especially warm with adoration.  

Just as Robin said, Nancy is brilliant in her precise and methodical approach. She directs the crew in adjusting the lights and backdrops with ease. Her critical eye allows her to observe each shot and offer valuable posing guidance. It’s impressive to watch someone be so in her element. 

You and Robin sit together and make small talk until there’s a break for a set and wardrobe change. Robin excuses herself and makes her way over to Nancy. You notice Nancy’s focused demeanor melt into one of warmth upon Robin's approach, and the sight of their friendly affection for one another brings a smile to your face. Quite honestly, it makes you miss your friends; you’ve been so busy since starting this job that you haven’t found much time to see them.

Eddie walks past the pair on his way to meet Erica, briefling nodding at his wife in acknowledgement. He stops abruptly and looks around at the crowded set before swiveling back to face them.  

“Hey Wheeler, did Robin tell you she’s getting new headshots done for her upcoming play?” he asks. “Do you mind giving her some pointers while we break?”

Nancy brightens at the suggestion, “That’s a great idea. I’d be happy to help!”

“Why don’t you two go somewhere private? I don’t want all these people leering at my sexy wife when she’s posing.” Eddie winks at Robin, who whispers a quiet ‘thank you’ before leaving with Nancy. You’re touched by what you’ve just witnessed. Eddie is actually a supportive and loving husband. The longing hits you unexpectedly. When will it be my turn? Soulmate, where are you?

It’s exhausting to pine for someone you haven’t met yet. You have all of this love to give without a person to receive it and reciprocate. It feels aimless, like being adrift in the dark ocean with no light to guide you home. You’re too lost in your yearning to notice that Eddie has returned and is standing beside your chair.

“Everything okay, Bee?” The question physically jolts you from surprise. You wait for the inevitable teasing from Eddie about catching you off guard. Instead, you look up to find Eddie eyeing you closely. Whatever he sees in you in that moment must cause him concern. His brow is furrowed, and there’s an unexpected tenderness in his gaze. 

“Uh, yeah. Sorry, I got distracted by my thoughts.” 

“Well, that’s no good. What did I tell you this morning about having more fun?” Eddie hold his hand out for you to take, and he gently coaxes you to stand. His calloused hands feel rough against your gentleness, but you find it comforting. Once upright, he drops your hand and offers out his arm out as a replacement. “Come on, I’ve got just the idea to break you out of your shell.” 

The two of you walk side by side comfortably, and Eddie guides you to where the band and Nancy have reconvened. The guys are looking up at one of the warehouse walls in deep observation. You squint your eyes, searching for something on the wall that might be drawing their attention. Having no success, you look back to the band and realize they’re each holding something. Are those spray paint cans? Your ears perk up at the sound of rattling as Gareth shakes the can he’s holding. Yeah, definitely spray paint. You send a quizzical look Eddie’s way.

“Murray thought we needed some more edgy photos. He suggested we graffiti the wall for the next set,” he explains. “Wheeler was all worried about it, but… Murray knows best.” He mutters the last part bitterly, shaking his head with distaste. “He might actually be right about this, though.” Eddie steps forward, breaking your linked arms, and snags two spray paint cans from the ground. He holds one out to you, his face alight with mischief. 

You look around self consciously, noting that Steve and Murray are both within view. You fidget nervously and contemplate whether you can let your hair down while on the job. No one else appears to be partaking; only the band members have been given spray paint. “Are you sure about this? I think it’s just meant for you all.” 

Eddie throws his head back with an exaggerated groan. “Come on! Live a little.” He snaps out of his dramatics when he hears the sound of hissing fill the air from the spray paint cans in use. Gareth, Jeff, and Harry have already begun doodling on the wall without him. “See?! We’re missing out on the fun because you’re overthinking.” 

He extends the can out to you once more, gently nudging you to partake. He grins widely when you take the simple black paint from him reluctantly. You can do this. Show him you’re not always so uptight. 

You slowly approach the wall and think about what to paint. You need to show him that you can have fun and keep up with his jokes. The idea comes to you easily, and you get to work on your masterpiece. It’s a simple piece that only takes a few minutes for you to prepare. . 

Eddie is intently focused on drawing a large, crimson devil’s face, and you need to wave to get his attention. When his eyes meet yours, you point to your painting and await his reaction. Previously blank, the wall now sports the image of a humble bumblebee. The bee has two basic stripes, fluttering wings, and most importantly - a stinger. Eddie’s warning from this morning is fresh on your mind. If you get too aggressive, you’ll lose your stinger for good.

Your artistic choice has the intended effect, and Eddie lets out a hearty laugh. He smiles at you, and those brown eyes crinkle at the corners with joy. He looks proud, and it stirs something unexpected inside of you. You find that you like pleasing him.  

  “Atta girl.”

You suppress a shiver that the hum of his voice conjures despite the flippancy of his words.

That photoshoot, though chaotic in and of itself, somehow ended up becoming the calm before the storm for you. A demarcation point beyond which your days became filled with the relentless pursuit of planning a multi-month tour for a moderately famous industrial metal band. Days that had previously been spent ushering Eddie around to meetings with some semblance of timeliness and bringing him snacks when he gets cranky are now consumed by filling a thickening manilla envelope with neat documents, each marked with your precise handwriting as you plan and record each aspect of the trip logistics: contacting venues as per Steve’s direction, managing their hospitality riders, tracking expenses and budgeting for food and accommodations, as well as other minutiae that, frankly, has begun to make that vein throbbing in your neck a near constant companion by the end of the workday. The hours feel long, longer than they do when you’re trying to wrangle Eddie; though the days aren’t physically taxing as you spend them holed up at a desk fitted snugly into the closet you’d reorganized, they are mentally exhausting as those dates, dollar amounts, and contact names begin to tangle up in your head. You spill them out onto your trusty desk calendar, collecting them there as you stretch the strands and detangle them in order to begin weaving together Corroded Coffin’s first tour. It’s a feat you take no small measure of pride in.

Thankfully, during the weeks you spent taming this beast of a task, Eddie and the guys had been occupied almost entirely with rendering the final mix of their album. They’d worked closely with Argyle in refining the balance and levels of instruments and ambient sounds that would create the dirty industrial feel they were seeking with this upcoming release. You’d popped out of your stuffy little closet occasionally to check on them, though they didn’t seem to need much beyond being fed. Eddie, in particular, seemed quite consumed by a desire to see the vision brought to life, and was as serious and engaged as you’d ever seen him with a chair pulled up next to Argyle. That’s where you’d almost always see him when you emerged— long fingers idly twisting chunky rings, his eyes closed and his brow furrowed while he listened carefully and assisted in tweaking such small changes that you hardly could tell the difference with your unpracticed ear. He had a beeper to page you, but through your months of working with him, you’d begun to anticipate what he needs to sustain him daily in this routine— a hot to-go cup of black coffee first thing in the morning; at least half a box of cigarettes in the pocket of his leather jacket, on call for a smoke break; a salty snack around his lull time of four in the afternoon, which you rotate to keep him from getting bored; and next-to-no interruptions except a quick meeting of your gazes a few times a day in case it reminds him to ask you for something. 

And now, finally, as late August adorns the New York streets with haze rising from the asphalt and paints sidewalks with the frantic bustle of summer tourists, your strands of dates and locations and prices and contact names have now been woven together to form a complete tapestry: Accommodations for Corroded Coffin’s ‘95-’96 Album Tour. All the knotted muscles in your shoulders, the bloodshot eyes, the late nights and early mornings had been worth it to get to this point— the point at which the final picture of what exactly that tour would entail has been tied off into neat and tidy knots of thorough efficiency. You stretch your arms above your head and your spine pops with relief; despite the fatigue you feel fuzzing between your eyebrows, you push back your chair almost cheerily and pull the headphones from your ears, prepared pop from the closet and join the men whose tour you’ve just planned.

When you emerge, you expect to see them all in some approximation of the same position as usual— Argyle and Eddie sat in front of the mixing board, Harry hovering close behind, and Gareth and Jeff either mucking about in the studio or sprawled on the couches in the corner where they call out their contributions. Instead, you’re surprised by the presence of an unexpected figure, who acts as the nexus point around which the rest of the band hovers. He’s got his hands stuffed under his armpits and his hip jutted out, one loafer tapping against the floor, though behind his wire-rimmed spectacles he looks less irritated than the last time you’d seen him. I suppose having the tour booked and the album finished would put any band manager in a decent mood, you think, eager to join the throng of smiling men who gather around him.

“What’s on the menu? Anything good? ” Gareth is asking as you walk up.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Is free food not good enough for you? You eat Smarties in Yoohoo as breakfast cereal. Get a grip,” Murray snipes, and laughter rumbles through the group.

“Oh!” All eyes turn to you at your little sound of surprise. “What promo event are you discussing? Did Steve plan something? I don’t remember seeing it on my weekly agenda notes from him.”

There is a beat of uncharacteristic silence from everyone before Jeff speaks— not quite tripping over himself, but with an extra edge of enthusiasm you don’t typically hear in his voice. “No, no,” he assures you quickly. “You didn’t miss anything. It’s a celebration for finishing the album, not a promo event. Just a get together Murray planned for us tomorrow.” He lifts his brows, eyes warm and sincere, if not a little too wide. “You gonna be there?”

That familiar feeling in your chest— that subtle deflating that sinks into your stomach, reminding you of cafeteria tables lacking in saved space and friends reminiscing over shared experiences you hadn’t even been aware of— weighs you down inside as you look into Jeff’s kind face. It stings, the knowledge that you hadn’t quite been forgotten or excluded, but only just— only because you’d emerged from your makeshift office and wandered into the conversation at just the right moment. Had you not, you would have been none the wiser, and it makes Jeff’s question— ‘You gonna be there?’ — feel awkwardly like you’ve invited yourself.

Still, you choose to save face. “Oh, gotcha!” you say, turning to Murray. “Where is it?” 

The neutrality in Murray’s expression in place of his typical sardonic scowl almost makes you feel worse. “My place. You been to the Upper West Side?” You nod. “You can show up anytime after seven. I’ll have Harrington shoot you the address, kid.”

You brace yourself against this second blow— being called ‘kid’ as if you really are just Eddie’s babysitter, as if you hadn’t just single-handedly coordinated an entire tour’s-worth of hotels and restaurants and activities— and smile. “Thank you,” you say, avoiding the dark brown eyes of one curly-haired menace.

Because if there’s pity there, too— pity like the kind you felt in Jeff’s too-wide smile or Murray’s soft nod— you think you might just burst into hot, utterly humiliating tears.

On Friday night, it takes some time for you to dress and even longer for you to resolve to actually attend the celebration party. That last-minute invite has rocked your sense of self, manifesting most clearly in the lack of clarity regarding your outfit. Clothes are strewn across your typically-orderly room like a cyclone of indecision has torn through it, and what you’ve chosen feels barely adequate: silver jewelry, simple mary janes, and a black silk blouse that flows like water against your skin, tucked loosely into the waistband of your bootcut blue jeans. You’d settled on the blouse chiefly because of the color, as if with some subconscious desire to blend in with the men you work with so that maybe next time they won’t forget about you.

After a good nights rest unencumbered by that looming task still hanging over your head— since you’d finally completed it, to your relief— and some consideration, you’d reasoned that the reason for your late invitation was probably not malicious. And when you’d checked your email to see that, not even twenty minutes after your conversation with Murray had Steve emailed and sent you details and the address, it essentially confirmed it. Sure, it certainly still stung knowing that you hadn’t been thought of from the get-go, but you chalked it up to your newness and the fact that you’d been cloistered in your ‘office’ so often lately.

You’d concluded the mistake was likely innocent, and as you stand outside the front door to Murray’s apartment hesitating to knock, you find yourself desperately hoping you’re right, and that you haven’t made a mistake by coming after all. This job is already so different from any you’d had before— nowhere else had you spent so much time intimately intertwined with the details of your employer’s life outside of a professional context. Spending time at Eddie’s apartment to wash his dishes, coordinate his meals, take him to his appointments, fetch him the things he needs… look after him… it all feels more domestic than professional, though in this role, really, those things are one in the same. It blurs the lines and leaves you strangely yearning for inclusion, leaves you feeling more vulnerable, as you finally press your index to the doorbell, than you’d honestly prefer.

A flash of panic hits you as you hear the approach of footsteps beyond the door. You prepare yourself for the sight of Murray’s face half-twitched into a reluctantly-polite smile as the rest of the men stare at you from their seats, drinks dangling from their hands as their eyes turn quickly from you and back to one another.

But when the door swings open, you’re instead greeted with the sight of Gareth’s poofy brown bangs and pink cheeks as he smiles so widely at the sight of you you’re sure his face must ache from it. “She made it!” he exclaims into your face, breath puffing loose and acrid with alcohol as he hooks an arm around your shoulder to pull you inside amidst a rousing chorus of elongated ‘ay’s from the rest of the band.

Your apprehension dissolves like seafoam as he pulls you eagerly inside. 

The interior of Murray’s apartment feels as though you’ve walked into a time capsule. You aren’t sure whether the mid-century modern theme is because Murray is partial to the style or because he hasn’t bothered updating the furnishings since the seventies, but judging by his half-unbuttoned ‘party’ shirt striped with deep brown and cream— displaying no little amount of bushy chest hair within which a gold chain is nestled— you figure it’s probably the latter. You look around with interest at the furnishings, intrigued by the design’s ability to feel both high end and also warm, quite a contrast from the modern crispness many favor nowadays. Gareth doesn’t give you much time to sight-see as he leads you towards the party’s epicenter in the living room, though you do notice that the walls are a bold burnt orange, accented by geometric wallpaper and bookshelves filled with vintage books and knick-knacks likely gathered on Murray’s travels. As you pad over the shag carpet in your mary janes, your gaze is drawn to the men crowded on the low-slung sofa around a sleek, glass-top coffee table. The air is hazy with smoke, which wafts from a cigar resting in a crystal ashtray near Murray’s elbow, and the record-player in the corner is crackling with jazz— Miles Davis, if your memory serves you correctly. 

All-in-all, it’s nothing what you expected Corroded Coffin’s album-completion party to look like, down to the way they all perk as Gareth leaves you to hover near the side of the couch while he plops back down in his spot on the floor. It’s all the familiar faces you would expect, and no one else. Murray, Steve and Argyle sit on low-profile armchairs pulled up beside the coffee table where cards and poker chips clearly indicate they’re in the middle of a game; Jeff and Gareth are seated together on the floor, and they lift their drink glasses to you when your eyes pass over them; and finally, Harry and Eddie are on the couch, knees spread wide and comfortable as they slouch, though they straighten at your approach. The mens’ greetings become a cacophony of friendly voices you can’t possibly discern as they overlap happily, and you accept them with somewhat shy nods but a pleased smile. Harry immediately shifts over towards the couch’s arm, and when he notices, Eddie does the same, narrowing his knees and shuffling over to the opposite side to make room for you.

It’s a clear invitation, one that makes warmth bloom in your chest as you step carefully over Harry’s shoes to sink onto the low velvet couch between them. 

“Did you find the place okay?” Steve asks, and you meet his hazel eyes as you reply,

“Yes, thanks. Actually, my aunt lives—” You find a cup suddenly thrust into your fingers, and you close them hastily around textured glass, glancing down at the amber liquid inside. “What is this?”

“Whiskey, my dude,” Argyle replies, settling back into his chair with a lopsided grin. “Bottoms up.”

You stare at it for a moment skeptically, already balking from the burn in your throat. But, like sharks in the water, they sense your hesitation; as if with one mind, the guys lean forward to goad you with some light ribbing, flashing brows, and wide grins. All except Murray, that is, who seems more impatient to get back to the poker game as he grouses and sighs impatiently. 

In the end, it’s Eddie’s elbow in your side and his brown eyes catching yours that do it— his gestures are loose with alcohol, and yet more gentle than you typically see him. “C’mon, little Bee.” He smiles, and something catches in your throat as it brightens his flushed face. “Time to get buzzed.”

Your head tosses back of its own accord as you laugh, tickled by the pun; when you look at him again, Eddie looks inordinately pleased with himself. “All right,” you concede; the guys cheer as Murray shakes his head. And though it burns just as much as you knew it would, when you clink that glass down against the coffee table, coughing slightly as Harry claps you jovially on the back, all you feel is warm. Warmth in your belly, warmth against your sides where Harry and Eddie sit beside you, warmth in your cheeks as you settle back against the cushions and look around at the friendly faces that surround you. 

Now that you’ve been christened with your first drink, the group turns back to the game of poker your arrival had interrupted. You watch with interest as they take up their hands again, hiding your giggle behind your hand as Gareth dramatically flops backward in a sprawl on the floor when he loses to Jeff, who rakes the pile of chips in the center gleefully and dramatically into his corner of the table. “I put thirty dollars on that hand; come on, man,” Gareth whines, but Jeff pays him no mind nor offers any mercy.

“D’you know how to play?” Eddie asks you, and you shake your head. 

“We can teach you,” Harry offers. 

“Oh, I’m fine watching—” You begin to protest but it’s cut off almost as quickly with a sharp movement from Eddie, who snatches a handful of chips from his pile into his broad fist, heedless of the way some bounce to the shaggy carpet below. You’d felt warm in your belly, at your sides, and in your cheeks, but more than anything else, you feel that warmth in your heart as Eddie presses some of his poker chips into your open palm.

“Doesn’t matter if you don’t know how to play,” he says matter-of-factly. “Just have some fun.”

You smile at him, a gentle curve of your lips to match the way he pats your wrist before lurching forward to pick up his fallen chips and receive his next hand. 

Throughout the games of poker you play, you find yourself both having the fun Eddie had instructed you to and simultaneously watching him, marveling at the way the haze and jazz and laughs and velvet couch have… softened him, almost. He's clearly drunk— more than a little glassy-eyed, with flushed cheeks and loose, heedless swinging of his wild curls and his limbs as he celebrates victories and laments losses— but it’s accompanied by more easy smiles and cackling laughs than you’ve heard from him in the last few months combined. He’s full of life tonight, but without as much biting edge. And you can’t help but think that to see him like this, so relaxed, so happy…

It’s nice. Nice in a way that makes that feeling bloom again— the one you’d been feeling more often since the photoshoot. You shake it quickly away.

His joy fuels the others, you notice. You suppose it makes sense; Eddie’s boisterousness and overwhelming energy tends to dictate the tides despite others’ attempts to direct situations otherwise. And as the night wares on, that easy looseness eventually devolves to become a bit more wild. Of course, it doesn’t take much for some of the others to follow suit.

Somewhere between the umpteenth hand of poker and your third round of drinks, Argyle wanders into Murray’s kitchen and helps himself to the bottle of champagne chilling in an icebucket, most likely prepared by Steve— you can’t see Murray bothering with that. Steve perks up when he comes back over, rubbing his hands on his trousers and rising as he reaches to take it from Argyle. 

“Thanks, Arg,” he says, but his gratitude ends up being a little hasty. Because rather than passing the bottle into his waiting hand, Argyle instead begins to shake it with a jerky flail of his arm, forcing Steve to retract his fingers, who huffs affrontedly. “I was gonna say something,” he protests, and while the exasperation is easy to read there, it’s overshadowed as Eddie leaps suddenly off the couch, crouching slightly, face alight with mischief as he circles Argyle on the rug. Once Eddie’s up, everyone follows suit— Jeff and Gareth scramble to join him, and you and Harry follow close behind, your hands clasping your elbows as you eye the proceedings with cautious amusement.

“Yeah, yeah, Steve, we all know what you’re gonna say,” Eddie drawls, but the wide smile on his face takes the edge off the sarcasm. “‘What an incredible accomplishment, we’ve worked so hard, the culmination of many months of effort—’ blah, blah, fuckin’ blah.” Eddie cackles as he flings his arm out to smack Steve companionably in the stomach, making his PR manager stumble slightly due to the accidental force behind the gesture. “Allow me.” 

Eddie flourishes and bows dramatically, his wild curls splaying around his shoulders as he jerks his head up to address the group— his face is flushed, pink rather than pale, with a vein popping on his forehead, and you can’t help but shake your head in reluctant, wry amusement as he declares, “Fuck bitches, get money, make metal, and raise fucking hell, boys!”

And with that— without any forewarning, really, besides a slanted smirk— Argyle pops the cork from the champagne bottle, spraying Eddie directly in the face with it.

You don’t know why you wouldn’t have expected it, but you stiffen with a little jerk as Murray roars, “Fuckin’— dammit, Argyle, not on the goddamn rug—!”

His ire is quickly overtaken by joy that fills the room as Jeff and Gareth jump towards the spray, mouths open wide in wait; ever obliging, Argyle coats their faces, too, directing most of the alcohol into their mouths but playfully directing it toward you and Harry too. You squeal and giggle as fizzy drops coat you lightly, turning into Harry’s broad shoulder for protection as the spray gradually weakens until it’s nothing but a dribble dropping to the shag.

In the ensuing silence, Steve looks at Murray sympathetically. “I’ll bill him for the carpet cleaning,” he promises, wringing his hands until Murray’s face calms from apoplectic to merely deeply aggravated.

You’re briefly worried he may pop an aneurysm until Argyle— the only one of you still bone dry— distracts everyone by pulling something casually from his pocket. “Oh, brochachos. Almost forgot. I got this advance copy of the album finished last night.”

The boys explode in a flurry of potent outrage and glee. “Why the fuck didn’t you tell us sooner?!” Jeff shouts, and you’re taken aback to see the most even-keeled member of Corroded Coffin shake his producer by the shoulders. 

“Relax, dude,” Argyle drawls. “S’not fully mastered yet, but it’s close enough.”

And when the needle scratches to a halt on the record player, replacing smooth, dulcet jazz with the rhythmic drum beat of what you know is the boys’ favorite song on the album: ‘Closer.’

It also happens to be one of the best tracks to dance to, and the boys take advantage of that, though their movements— mostly just flailing limbs as they jump and headbang— are really just some crude approximation of dancing. Yet that doesn’t detract from the glee of the moment as, at some point you get pulled in, too, finding yourself in the middle of it all— laughing and swinging your head and shouting along with them. “I wanna fuck you like an animal!” you scream, chest effusive with bubbling joy as Eddie doubles over in wild, joyful laughter at the crudeness of the lyrics shouted in your alcohol-hoarsened voice. You find yourself swung by hands, twirled under arms, spinning and sing-shouting until your throat goes scratchy and your head a little fuzzy from all the activity.

As the song ends, Eddie steadies you with a hand on your shoulder, and you smile up at him appreciatively but are surprised when he doesn’t remove his hand. Instead, he tips his head, jerking it toward the kitchen. “Come on,” he says, and you see his lips move but barely hear his words underneath the booming of the next track, which echoes so loudly it nearly rattles the knick-knacks on Murray’s shelves. 

You trail after your employer as he leads you to the kitchen, sloppily filling an empty glass with water from the sink and handing it to you without any explanation. The intuitiveness of the gesture surprises you, as does the way he hovers nearby while you take tiny sips to soothe your parched throat. 

Eddie leans a hip against the counter, stuffing his hands in the back pockets of his dark jeans and looking you over appraisingly. It’s the first time you’ve really gazed at him all night, and as he appraises you, you don’t feel that instinctual need to hide, the impulse dulled by the warmth buzzing in your veins. Instead, you just appraise him back, eyes trailing over the silver of his handcuff belt buckle, the chain at his hip, the soft, faded black of his band t-shirt, your eyes lingering where he’s clearly torn the sleeves off, evident by dangling threads that tickle the alabaster of his pale biceps. His curls are frizzier than before, still damp and sticking to his neck from the champagne, and his plush lips are pinker than they typically are— shiny and wet as he licks across them with a swipe of his tongue. 

You feel a distinct stirring deep in your belly and wrench your gaze from his mouth to his eyes, face heating as you anticipate a smirk and a crude remark, or perhaps a pointed comment about your wandering gaze. Yet Eddie’s face is calm, almost a little hesitant as he opens his mouth to speak— seemingly entirely consumed by what he wants to say. “So, you know we’re going on tour,” he says matter-of-factly, and you can’t help but snort at the ridiculousness of it.

“I think I’ve gathered that. I mean, I’ve only been working out your accommodations for said tour for the past few weeks now,” you retort with a little smirk, and his lips curl in a lopsided grin at your sass. You anticipate a rebuttal, but Eddie continues without comment.

“Well, I know it might come as a shock that I’d be admitting this, but, ah…” He scratches the corner of his lips with one dark-painted fingernail, mouth stretched wide before he continues abruptly, “things have been running a little smoother since you came around. ‘Specially once you got the hang of washing my silky drawers right.”

Your growing pleasure at the praise flattens along with your expression at that final comment, though it eases when he smiles at you, crooked but wide, as eager as you’ve ever seen his smile be. “So,” he says with an air of dramatic finality, “how’s about you take that laundry service on the road?”

In what is almost more to goad him than in genuine disgust, you wrinkle your nose, and your chest warms again when he chuckles huskily, knocking you with his elbow lightly again. "What I'm try’na say is... you wanna come on tour with us?" 

When you think back to the way this party began for you— with a split second of awkward silence and a hastily extended invitation, clearly late-to-come— you hadn’t anticipated the way it would end up. In that moment at the studio, you couldn’t imagine being welcomed in so readily, sprayed with champagne, twirled underneath their arms, and cared for with poker chips and glasses of water. You hadn’t thought you’d be here, standing with Eddie Munson in his manager’s kitchen, being invited by him personally to go on tour with the band. 

It’s confirmation that you do have a place amongst them, and it’s also exactly why you took this job in the first place— the opportunity to explore beyond the limits of your current world.

"Yes,” you reply, and you can’t help it when your voice comes out honey sweet. “I'd really like that." 

"Well, good,” Eddie huffs good-humoredly, “‘cause you kinda have to whether you like it or not. But I'm glad I don't have to twist your arm after all." 

You nod, and something small— small and tenuous, trickling like briny water— flows between you and Eddie as you gaze at one another. "Well... thank you," you say, your voice soft and almost shy as you look up at him.

Eddie blinks, looking a little taken aback by the gratefulness in your expression. Quickly, his eyes jump from yours to track around the room as he says distractedly, "Sure, little Bee— Hey, Murray!” His hoarse voice rises in a shout as he skirts around you, trailing out of the kitchen as he calls wolfishy, “Where's your top shelf shit? I wanna get fuckin' blasted tonight." 

You watch him lope off toward the living room again without sparing you another glance. Quickly, you drain your water glass, leaving it in the sink and wandering back into the fray until you find yourself elbow to elbow with Steve. 

“So—” Your eyes find hazel as Steve regards you with a friendly, knowing smile. “You ready for that travel I promised you?”

Another wild cackle— one that, after tonight, threatens to haunt you in your sleep— draws both of your gazes. For a moment, you and Steve watch as Eddie sneaks up behind an unsuspecting Gareth, grappling him around the neck and tugging him into a headlock as the other man sputters and kicks at him. All at once, they seem to you much younger than their years, and it makes you consider the question.

Are you ready for the travel Steve promised you— travel where wrangling these unruly rockstars, and one in particular, is about to become even more of your daily existence?

You find, as Eddie shoves Gareth into Jeff and licks across his bottom teeth with a manic grin when the two recover and face him, readying themselves to retaliate, that you have no damn idea whether you’re ready or not.

Dear Soulmate…

The early morning of the first day on tour, your feet carry you around the familiar walls of your apartment, taking in the comforting sights you’ve woken up to for the past year. Angela watches from the kitchen island, eyes full of unshed tears, an unspoken awareness settling over the room. Your life has changed since becoming Eddie’s assistant. It’s a reality you’ve accepted for some weeks now, but it feels real now—more than it ever has before. Because now you’ll be traveling on tour with the band, with him, moving across state lines you’ve never roamed. It’s a world of endless opportunity ahead, new sights to see, places to explore. It dawns on you that your home in New York City will be a far and distant memory for the next months you’ll be following Corroded Coffin around the country.

I’m leaving on tour with Eddie and the band today. Isn’t that crazy? I’ve never been this far from home – traveling was just never something I had time to do. I was always so focused on school, on trying to make my parents proud, on trying to be perfect. And now, I’ll be traveling with a metal band across the country! I never thought this is where I’d end up, but I’m trying to learn to embrace the unexpected (it’s so scary though!). I definitely didn’t expect Eddie to be the one inviting me. Although, he acted like he really had no choice in the matter, it’s still strange. 

Angela helps roll your multiple suitcases out into the main living area, mouth a wobbly line as you push them over onto their side and make sure you have everything you need one final time. Heels and other shoes, boots and sneakers in one duffel bag, each one a proper pair, freshly wiped down for any imperfection or defects. Another bag holds all your toiletries, makeup products, and hair tools should you ever need them. You unzip your suitcases next, peering in at various tights, dark skirts, dark colored sweaters, dark wash jeans for your off days. 

Eddie is… well, we’re still working on our relationship. I think most of the time he feels like I’m annoying him on purpose, but I’m really just trying to do my job. He’s not used to being on a schedule, which is a little wild to me because that’s all I’ve ever known. And maybe that’s what makes him push me away so much. His wife says I need to push back a bit, but I’m worried about keeping my job… I think I’ve grown to like working for him.  

Angela walks you down to the street, helping roll one of your bags down and onto the pavement. Cars and taxis speed by in a kaleidoscope of color, but your eyes latch solely on the rolled down window of the car sitting on the curb’s edge. 

            Eddie’s thre with a cigarette held loosely between his fingers, those dark sunglasses of his shrouding his eyes, tattooed arm on display in the bright sun of the morning. An inky tapestry of intricate detail, etched with countless stories and meanings he’ll never divulge. In the front is Hopper, his usual bored demeanor in place as he opens the driver's side door and walks around to join you and your roommate. The back trunk of the vehicle pops open with a small beep, your heart hammering away as the heftier man helps hoist your things into the back and latches the car back into place. 

“Ready?” Eddie calls from the car. 

You’re on the clock, sure, but you still remind yourself to quench the desire to raise your middle finger in a vulgar gesture, annoyance writhing in your gut. Instead, you focus your tangle of nerves on the girl standing before you on the street, with her shiny blonde hair and mournful expression on her face. She takes a slow step forward, arms coming to curl around your shoulders. There’s a suddenness of the realization you won’t see her until you return to New York for the holiday season. For the last year you’ve woken to the comfort of the four walls of your bedroom, the warmth of your apartment, and your friendship with Angela. 

“Go crush it,” she says, smoothing a palm up and down your spine, head close to your ear. “Take all the pictures. Try and enjoy yourself. New York will be here when you get back. I’ll be expecting as many phone calls as possible, and postcards of all the places you travel to! I want to hear about it all.”

He’s challenging, and yeah he calls me Bee (which I am STILL certain is short for Bitch despite his reassurances otherwise) but the work genuinely feels rewarding. Also, I am really enjoying getting to know the other guys in the band. They’re not friends, no, but they’re kind enough. And who knows? Maybe Eddie will come around. We don’t need to be friends, but I would like it if one day we could become colleagues, at the very least.

Eddie regards you with little interest, still unchanging in his distaste for any time before 12pm, as you clamber into the back of the car with him. He does not shift whatsoever to accommodate your presence, only haphazardly flicks his cigarette onto the concrete below and dips his head at Angela. The blushing blonde raises her hand in a nervous wave, an uneasy smile crawling across her features as he glances along her frame, telling her to have a nice rest of her day. It’s almost comical, though no laughter bubbles up from you, the easy kindness he shows her way; meanwhile, he regards you most days as though you’re no more than a pest when he’s not relentlessly flirting with you. Hot and cold, dependent on his mood on any given day. A bee to be swatted away. You suppose it’s understandable—knowing your mere presence is a reminder of the mistakes he’s made in the public eye. Huffing audibly in your mild upset, your fingers lift to wiggle in the air to wave goodbye to her as Hopper slides the tinted windows up to keep the air conditioned temperature within the vehicle, obscuring her from view. 

I wonder about what you’re doing a lot these days. It’s summertime, the season of endless possibilities. Are you traveling? Maybe you’re on a beach somewhere tropical. Maybe you’re celebrating some good news. Or, maybe you’ve taken up a new hobby. Angela and I tried hot yoga last week (never again), so I suggest you stay away from that one. To be honest, and maybe it sounds silly, I just think about you a lot. With everything changing, it seems like knowing you’re out there is one thing I can rely on. Even if I haven’t met you yet. 

Your fingers drop and curl around your notebook tucked within your pocketbook for safekeeping, trailing along the pages littered with words meant for the one person in the universe who will understand you better than anyone. It brings you comfort as Hopper peels away from the road and into the bustle of New York City traffic. 

Outside, taxis speed in and out of lanes, regardless of bodies surging forward in intersections, heedless in pursuit of their destinations. The car jerks and thumps over numerous manholes and metal grates around street corners, Hopper’s fingers reaching across the center console to raise the volume on the radio. 

One of Corroded Coffin’s songs is playing through the elaborate speaker system. There’s a spark of pride that springs to life within you. It’s not one of the newer, to be released singles—no; but there’s a sense of excitement for them, knowing how hard they’ve worked to get where they are, especially because you’ve witnessed the effort they put into their craft first hand. 

Eddie seems unphased by his own voice on the radio — as if it’s a normal occurrence for him, and you suppose it is. While you’re still adjusting to your new life following alongside a public figure, he’s had some time to become acclimated. He’s experienced sold out concerts, screaming fans singing along to his songs, crowds surging forward to try and get closer to Corroded Coffin. He’s been on the receiving end of good and bad press that paints him in a caricature of himself; one that’s larger than life and not entirely accurate. 

And you’re once again reminded you’re here with him because you’re his assistant when his thigh accidentally brushes yours as the car jolts over a particularly large bump, skin burning at the point of contact, seated beside him in the quiet space around you, watching as the city blurs behind your eyes. 

“Remind me of what you have planned for the day,” he drawls, and you’re grateful his stare is presently focused on looking out his window and not on your face. He doesn’t capture the deep inhale, nor does he catch the slight gathering of tears on your lashes that you swat away with the pads of your fingers, brought upon by the suddenness of your change in scenery and leaving Angela. 

It's as easy as breathing after that. With his cold, quiet words a distraction from the sadness swirling in your gut, you swiftly breeze through the mental list you woke with. You remind him you’ll arrive on schedule at six, where you’ll get on the tour bus around seven after having a meeting and breakfast with Murray and the rest of the band. After that it’s a two and a half hour drive into Philly. It gives you all enough time to get situated once in the city and for the band to relax a bit to get into the proper headspace before getting ready for their soundcheck in preparation for the first concert scheduled later in the evening. 

You tamper down and try to hide the thrill of excitement that buzzes in your veins at the prospect of seeing the guys all perform together. It’s been one thing watching them in the studio for the months they’ve been working on the album, and another all together to see the culmination of all their hard work come to fruition. However, it also brings up a new bout of anxieties over what exactly will be required of you while on the road. Thus far you’ve run errands and kept Eddie on schedule for meetings, interviews, photoshoots and other appearances. Following him across state lines and watching him on the stage, however, seems like a new, daunting task you’re hoping to tackle head on. 

“Ever been to the exotic Philadelphia?” Your head jerks as the words break through the silence, those dark eyebrows of his furrowing in confusion when your mouth opens and closes, no words falling freely from your lips. “I’ll take that as a no.”

You swallow thickly, pushing aside the indignation that burns and builds at his words. His inked fingers reach up to grasp the sunglasses perched on his nose, sliding them down slowly to fold them away beside his thigh. You’re no stranger to Eddie’s features at this point. Those amber eyes of his, emotive and magnetic, immediately capture your attention. You regard him carefully, just as he is you, his gaze trailing your features in a slow perusal. When you finally speak, it’s a soft utterance of, “I haven’t really ventured too far out of New York.” 

He chuckles gleefully, mouth drawn upward enough where your eyes catch on the dimple in his cheek. He’d be prettier, you think, if he scowled less. Like this he’s vibrant and bright, and appears much younger than his twenty nine years. For a moment you wonder what he was like before all the fame, before the party lifestyle, before the allure of the industry sunk its greedy teeth into him and spat him right back out. His head shifts toward the streets, and your eyes drop down to your lap, fingers toying with a frayed edge on your pocketbook. You hear him then, voice a husk of, “Looks like it’s time for my little worker bee to finally leave the hive.”

My first stop is Philadelphia. I’ll definitely be sure to take a bunch of pictures to share with you someday! I’d like to try and draw a bit too while I'm gone, but who knows. I haven’t really had much time for that lately with the new job. If I create anything worth keeping, I’ll definitely save it so I can show it to you. 

You offer him an easy smile, returning your gaze to the world outside the vehicle, exhaling deeply when Hopper pulls up into a parking garage. He mutters briefly that he needs to go check on the tour bus and leaves the two of you to your own devices. You can hear the echoes of voices closer to the tour bus, whoops and calls from the other band members reach your ears through the softly parted window as they catch sight of Eddie’s vehicle. Vaguely, you even catch the utterance of your name in the midst, teasing in nature, urging the two of you outside. 

Before you can even say a word, Eddie’s opening his passenger side door and getting out of the car, leaving you behind with your things. Exhaling deeply, you move to open your own side and nearly fall out when the man in question tugs the door open and extends a hand in your direction. There’s a brief clash of stares while your eyes drift from his to his palm, uncertain as to what he’s doing. 

Unamused, Eddie huffs out, reluctantly explaining, “So you don’t bust your ass like you did your first day working for me.” His eyes drop to your largely inconvenient heels. You’d only worn them because you weren’t sure what one would wear before heading off on a concert tour. Noting your apprehension, he continues, “Bee, I’m not going to pull my hand away at the last second. I can be a gentleman, you know?”

You snort, wrinkling your nose. “I didn’t doubt it.” It’s not the fullness of truth, but you suppose for your client, it’s better to abstain from telling him that most days he is quite determinately, or at least it seems that way, driving you to the brink of hysteria. It’s probably also best to not remind him how not very long ago, before you hired him another maid you insisted he keep this time, he would make you clean his brownstone top to bottom. A task that also included tending to his clothing and highly suspect underwear on more than one occasion. 

Deciding to appease him, you envelop his palm within your own and allow him to help you down onto the concrete below. Your feet wobble a bit from the drop, but he’s there with a gentle hand at your bicep to steady you, before the moment fizzles and he pulls away all together. You walk side by side, though not together, to join the rest of the band where they stand in an excited huddle around the tour bus. 

Even the vehicle itself is larger than you anticipated. It looms above you, imposing and impressive, signifying the success the group has seen in the time they’ve been in the media spotlight. You have little opportunity to think about it, however, because the boys greet you with warm welcomes and hellos, trading their normal handshakes they’ve given you for hugs. A recent development, brought about merely by spending as much time with them over the months as you have. Jeff in particular lingers a little longer just as Murray calls the band into a circle for a meeting, muttering a “Happy you’re here,” before rejoining with the rest of his band mates. 

You’re not left alone long in that parking garage, luckily enough. Steve’s there to urge you off to the side when he pulls up in his car. He’s a little worse for wear, acknowledging his lateness with a wave to the guys and a pleading look shot your way. He requests you follow him, putting yourself out of earshot from the rest of the men. For a brief moment, you worry you’ve done something to muddle your position. Stomach dropping at the thought you might have unintentionally said the wrong thing to Eddie, a vendor — maybe even Robin, but that fear is quelled immediately when Steve clears his throat, his hand coming to cup around the back of his neck, kneading the muscle beneath his fingertips. 

“Look, you’re doing great. I’ve told you more times than I can count on two hands how grateful I am you’re here and everything, but I need you to know that the Eddie you’ve seen thus far is nothing like Eddie on tour. He’s — ”

Your mouth opens briefly to ask what his meaning is behind the clear warning, just as Eddie appears out of the blue and claps Steve on the shoulder, chuckling brightly as he asks, “Ready to go, Bee?” He looks to you imploringly, and you haltingly meet his stare before shifting back to Steve’s kind features. He tips his head, dismissing you, and you join at Eddie’s side, following him in the direction of the vehicle. Murray shoots Eddie a stern look as the two of you walk along by, your eyes darting to the Corroded Coffin logo stretched across the entirety of the exterior. “Here is your home for the next few months.” 

You’re uncertain as to what you might expect. You’ve never been on a tour bus before. The closest thing you can attribute it to is a coach bus for a school field trip back in your early education days. What greets you as Eddie turns back to extend a hand once more and assist you in climbing up onto the first step is greater than anything your mind might have conjured. 

He’s not kidding by his assessment that the bus will quite literally be your home for the duration of the tour. At the head of the impressive vehicle belies Hopper’s station, full of buttons and displays you’ve never seen before, and a dashboard with a hanging Corroded Coffin logo dangling from his rear view mirror. The burly man raises his hand in a wave as you and Eddie pass, heading into the lounge area that follows immediately. Your eyes are drawn to dark red couches, like that of a red wine, with black pillows strewn about. Nestled in front of the couch is a table pressed against the corner wall, new magazines displaying photos of the band and a headline that details the upcoming tour. 

Deeper into the vehicle is the adjoining kitchen, all in the same color scheme of dark black furniture, with red and silver accented bits. Eddie shows you around the space, opening the fridge for emphasis, showing you how to use the different amenities, before moving on down to point out the bathroom. Lastly, you’re brought into the bedrooms. Or rather, one spacious room lined with bunk beds on either side of the bus. 

“Normally I like being on top, but when it comes to sleeping I prefer the bottom." Eddie says suggestively, gesturing to the bed on his right. Your head shifts his way, taking in the little alcove he’ll be sleeping in for the night. He waves his hand to your left, smirking. “That’ll be yours. In case of an emergency.”

“In case of an emergency,” you repeat slowly, placing your pocketbook down on your assigned bed as you settle down beside it, positioned specifically across from Eddie’s in the event he requires you for anything. You quickly reach inside and jot down a few sentences in the unfinished letter, affixing a bright floral sticker to one of the corners. 

I have to go. We’re about to leave, but I just wanted to let you know what I’m up to. I’ll talk to you soon. Wouldn’t it be fun if we met in Philly?

As you shut your notebook, you realize you never heard the rest of Steve’s harrowing warning. I need you to know that the Eddie you’ve seen thus far is nothing like Eddie on tour. Your eyes narrow in piqued curiosity as you take in Eddie, that now familiar lanky form of his flopping down against his own mattress. He nods his head in your direction and you wave back numbly. 

You hear it then. That soft howling in the distance, a creeping sense of something looming with no name to place on it. 

You offer him a soft smile, and he throws a pillow over his head, settling down to nap.

Steve’s warning is suddenly very far away from your mind. 

[slowdiived]

heyyy girlie can you write a kurt x f!reader shower sex scene?

shower you in love

(kurt kunkle x fem reader)

18+ smut: p in v, shower sex, mouths where the sun don’t shine fr. pt 8 to my lil kurt series

you heard your roommate leave for work, a smile spreading  across your face once the door slammed shut. you looked at kurt who was invested in reading his latest youtube comments. you shook his arm and at first he didn't look at you.

"kurt!" you shook him again.

"huh? what?" he asked, turning his head to lock eyes with yours.

"we can go take a shower now!" you excited say, grabbing his arm a lightly tugging at him.

he shut off his phone and threw it on a few pillows. you led him to the bathroom and shut the door. you pulled your phone out to play music in the background, faye webster blasting. you turn on the shower to let it heat up for the two of you.

he started undressing, his kurtsworld shirt hitting the ground. he pulled down his joggers and plaid boxers, throwing them off to the side. you peeled everything off of your body and kurt smiled at the sight of you bare.

you open the shower curtain and step inside, the water warm. he followed after you and lightly slapped your ass. you push his shoulder and he grabs you by the waist. you turn, the hot water hitting your back as your face your boyfriend. you could tell he was enjoying the view.

"you are s-so fucking sexy," he stuttered.

"so are you, baby." you giggled as you gave him a peck on the lips.

he tried to get handsy with you but you stopped him, your hands blocking his.

"first we need to wash ourselves so we don't forget this time," you say, a finger pressed to his bottom lip. "got that?"

he nodded his head quickly and you soaked yourself under the warm water. you then gesture him to get under. you kiss his cheek as he lets the warmth fall all over him. you grab some body wash and squirt some out against your loofah. soon you start washing his front, rubbing it down his tummy then to his arms. you made him turn around so you could get his back, giggling at the sensations. you scrubbed him down then ran your hands to help clean off the soap. he hummed when you grazed down his tummy to his thighs.

"god, i want you now," he whined, his eyes big. "please baby, i don't wanna wait."

"hold on, all i gotta get is your hair then you have to get me," you giggle at his impatience. "it won't be long baby."

he groaned but complied, excited that you were going to play with and clean his hair. you put your shampoo in your hands and rubbed it into his hair. you massaged his scalp and he hummed again, loving the feeling of you being so caring and gentle. you rinse him off and then came in with conditioner, softening his hair. he rinsed it out and immediately brought you closer to him.

"your turn, b-baby," he kissed your forehead.

he put more body wash on the loofah and started wiping you down. he got every inch, meticulous to not fuck up some how. he then started massaging you with his hands, your back now face to him. you unravel in his grip as he starts messing around with your soapy breasts, cleaning them off. you make sweet little noises for him and he smiles knowing he's making you happy. he then starts kissing your shoulder, inching closer to your neck. you wanted him so bad but you also needed your hair washed.

"all you gotta do is wash my hair," you remind him. "then i'll let you show me how good you are gonna make me feel."

he excitedly started washing your hair, taking time so you were happy with the results. he didn't want to rush and fuck up or something, having the potential for you to get mad. after he is done rinsing you out completely, you turn to face him.

he smashed his lips into yours and sloppily kissed you, his member pressed against your slick thigh. your hands touched everywhere they could on him, the kiss turning dirty as your tongues were doing all the work. you pulled away and went straight for his neck, his hands pressed against your ass. you gave him hickies, not even caring about the placements. he moaned out and slapped your ass, making you squeal. you pulled away and he slowly kissed down your sternum and tummy to your core.

"i wanna make you feel good," he smiled.

you nod and he kisses the outside of your core then around your thighs. he then quickly brought a tongue to your slit, licking at a fast speed. you throw your head back and grasp on his wet brown hair. this was his first time giving head so you knew you were going to have to vocalize your pleasure so he didn't get discouraged.

he started lapping at your clit, bucking your hips forward into him a few times. you told him he was doing good between breathy moans. he spreads your legs apart and grabs your thighs, tightening his grip every time you moaned. he started digging into you deeper, his nose hitting your clit.

your stomach knotted and you wanted to buckle your knees. he noticed and started sucking on your clit, licking it at a faster speed.

"baby, i'm close," you panted out, your back smacking into the wall.

you soon felt your climax hit it’s peak, your legs were itching to close between his head. your heart rate got crazy and you cried out. he moaned at the pretty noises you couldn’t seem to stop making. he soon pulled away once you buckled from the over sensitivity.

he kissed around your thighs then pulled himself back to his feet. he pressed his lips into yours and you could taste yourself on him. you felt so tired but you also wanted him to fuck you until your body collapsed.

he was hard, a bead of precum pressed against his pink tip. the hot water hit your back as you started to make out with him. he pressed himself against your sensitive clit, bucking your hips at the sensation.

he soon pulled away and looked at you for approval. you smiled and nodded, turning around and perking your ass out the best you could. you were pressed against the wall again and he pressed his tip into your entrance after spreading your lips apart. you turned to make eye contact, his eyes flickering to yours.

“are you ready baby?” he asked, his lips bright pink and swollen.

“yes,” you nodded once again.

he pressed into you and you both moaned out loudly. he started going slow, his pace gradual. he kissed your shoulders and grabbed your hips.

“you feel so tight,” he panted out, his fingers started to grip you tightly.

you threw your head back and moaned at his words. he started going faster, the two of you crying out. every thrust made you want him harder and faster. he felt like a touch of heaven, blissfully yours.

“i like it went you fuck me so good like this,” your voice was breathy and shaky. “you make me feel so good baby. i wish you could fuck me forever.”

he bit into your shoulder and started going faster. he needed you more and more, he needed to make you a mess. he wanted to prove that he was the only one for you, the only one who could fuck you so good. hands pressed against the small of your back, he fucked you fast and hard.

“such a good little slut baby!” you screamed as you started unravel with every thrust.

his fingers dug into you, his nails scraping your skin. you wanted him to leave scratches against your body to look back at fondly. your breath was lost as he hit inside you deep, your sweet spot sending you into shockwaves. tears formed in your eyes.

“i’m so close baby,” he cried out into your ear. “i’m gonna fill you up so much.”

“please baby,” you pleaded, eyes squeezed shut. “you’d make me so happy if you did!”

he sloppily thrusted into you, his hand tangled in your hair and yanking it back aggressively. you both echoed through the bathroom with how loud you were. you couldn’t care if the neighbors could hear or even the whole world. you wanted everyone to know that he was yours and he was there to please you.

he came in you, slowing down his pace. he thrusted a few more times until he pulled out, emptying you. he watched as the cum sank out of you and down your leg, the water washing it away. you turned around after a moment, catching your breath.

he stood there, chest rising and falling rapidly. his eyes were hooded, cheeks redder than red. he looked so fucked out.

“let’s go cuddle,” he pulled you in with a tired grin. “i w-wanna take a nap.”

“i full heartedly agree,” you turned the water off then kissing the tip of his nose. “i love you.”

his eyes got wide and didn’t understand why. your brain was so hazy, it resembled the steam that stuck in the air like fog, around the bathroom. he smashed his lips into yours and you kissed back as best as you could.

“i love you too,” his smile reached from ear to ear.

after he left the shower and you headed to the toilet to pee, you realized that you were the first to say i love you.

and he loved you too.

[mrskurono]

title: Baby Fever a/n: ok you know what I’ll admit it, all I’ve been thinking about lately is Geto. He’s on my mind constantly. Should I be working on something else, yes. Is Geto the first jjk character I really had a crush on, maybe. I just....fucking Geto ok this has taken me four times to right jfc word count: 1.7k tags: no sub/dom dynamics, romantic sex, established relationship, manga spoilers, fingering, multiple female orgasms (not overstim though) breeding kink, needy Geto, creampie, unprotected sex, pregnancy mention, body worship, really just soft sex ok, unedited character(s): Geto Suguru (jjk)

They had grown. 

Both girls that was. 

Into wonderful adolescences that brought a set of different challenges. Geto was ready for that be it blindly. And he loved every part of it times two. Each time he looked at either of the kids though he could vividly remembered rounder cheeks, rosier faces and goofier smiles. It left him reminiscing over that more and more now.

You noticed it in the most subtle ways. Geto wanting more. More of those days even though he wouldn’t outright ask.

A trace of his fingers along your collar bone drew you away from what was in your lap. For the most part you’d ignored him once he came to bed but it grew almost impossible when the sorcerer had his lips pressed to the conjunction of your head and neck while a light touch traced down your chest. Not irritated in the slightly, you still give a playful sigh as you put your book down.

“Can I help you?” You can’t even turn your head to see him. Geto’s face is pressed to you with a trail of peppered kisses following suit.

With a firm grip he slipped his fingers against your thigh to give it a playful squeeze. Geto pulled out of the crook of your neck enough to finally look at you with that off brand smirk of his, “Mayhaps.”

You grin just to lean down and catch his lips on yours. Instead though you pull away just as he was going to lean into you. Earning your own smirk to play on your lips, “Mayhaps if you ask nicely Mr. Suguru.”

The hand on your thigh tightened. Pulling you towards him in a meager attempt but for the most part you stayed rooted where you were. Only slightly letting your legs fall open as your smirk grew into a full blown smile. He was awfully soft for a man on the run orchestrating a death cult. 

Geto slipped his fingers up along the crotch of your bottoms. Nudging his forehead against yours like he’d done every night this week. An eye roll that held no merit you grab his face and kiss him deeply. There isn’t a second in hesitation as you lean into him. Geto’s fingers moving up to help you wiggle out of your bottoms. A similar scene playing out just like the previous nights but you didn’t mind in the slightest with his attention fully on you.

“You’re so wet.” He commented against your lips the second his index finger dipped between your folds.

“And you’re already hard.” You toss back to him when your palm presses up against the stark hardness hidden under his robes, “Why don’t we help each other out?”

A nod and he didn’t stop to push back into the kiss. Geto hovering above you but it was your teeth nipping playfully at his bottom lip. Leaving the man to groan as his fingertips danced on either side of your clit. Your hips coming up to join in the motion of his fingers rubbing against you. Only for a few moments though because once they were soaked enough Geto couldn’t keep them from slipping inside you.

“Fuck...you’re so needy,” You moan against Geto’s lips as he curls his fingers in on you. He wouldn’t hesitate to make you cum like this before the main event even started.

Lips back to your neck, Geto hummed something but then nodded and mumbled against the softness of your ear, “I need you.”

Reaching down to grip his forearm as Geto’s fingering picked up in it’s urgency. You regretted the moan when his fingertips brushed over your g-spot. Within seconds he was back at it. Not leaving your sensitive spot alone as your cunt twitched and tightened around him with the impending orgasm. He was gonna get one from you with not much more than a snide remark on your part.

“F-Fuck...” Lip taut with tension as you bit down, fighting it wasn’t in your best interest, “S-Suguru- I- I’m gonna-”

“Cum-” His voice almost desperate, hot breath against your neck, fingers not letting up on their assault, “Please cum- Please I need you to cum- Please-”

The want in his voice too much. Just the way he wouldn’t stop after your orgasm tipped itself over. Fingers pulling a toe curling orgasm out of you as you clutched onto his robes and felt every fiber in your body tingle with hopelessness for him.

Fingers slowing, Geto simply wiggling them around in you and feeling the slickness covering his knuckles. It was when you snagged him for a long drawn out lazy kiss. Just to follow it by an order that he get undressed already, meant the man had no choice but to listen.

Rid of his clothes and between your legs before you knew it. You look down to see him swiping his cock up through the drool of your cunt. What wasn’t on his fingers previously now coated his cock with a beautiful glisten. Geto more than enthralled seeing his cock slip between your cunt lips. Each movement of his length grinding into your sensitive nub sent a shiver up your spine. Either he was too into watching or he was teasing you. A few more swipes and you demand he get on with the main course already.

One push and Geto’s cock slipped down to the hilt with ease. Stretched thoroughly from the nightly fucking all week. Today was no different. Juices squelching around his cock Geto pushed himself down to his base. Feeling his cock bottom out in you no problem. Leaving the man to hover over you. Caged in by both his arms on either side of you. And his hair tickling your face when you looked up at him.

“You’re beautiful.”

“You’re handsome.”

Geto stalled a moment. Savoring the way his hips felt snug in yours. The residual feeling of your walls twitching around him. Not a day would go by where he didn’t swear you were made for him. 

“I love you.” His words clear and concise. You looked up at Geto once more.

What smirk you had early softened into a smile. Bringing his face down to yours for a kiss, “I love you t- fuck-” Before he let you finish Geto grinned against your lips and thrusted into you without warning. Just to watch you convulse and loose yourself on his cock. Just as beautiful as ever. He felt himself unable to control himself all over again.

Each snap of his hips into your core left you breathless. He wasn’t rough. Never was he rough. Geto’s cock curved in the right way that left you rolling your hips up to meet his thrusts. Even if it felt like he was going to split you in half, you still wanted more.

Orgasm or not Geto was bringing you right back to the edge. He always did. As you showered his face in breathless kisses. Some of those met with his own lips. Others spared on his neck and collar bone as you watched with a dazed look at where your bodies met. Geto buried inside you with each thrust. His hands hooked into your hips with your legs slightly elevated so he could defile your deepest parts. Every night this week he’d fuck you like this. In the drunken pleasurer of it all you might have thought he was trying to breed you.

“Please-” Geto’s voice peeled you away, “Please cum-”

Thinking he wanted you to cum on him again you half ass nod, “Yes- Fuck yes I’ll-”

“No-” He groaned more of a gasp. Geto putting his forehead against yours even with the dew accumulating on it, “Please- Please can I cum- Cum in you- I just-”

More than surprised. Of course he’d done so more than once before. Now he was asking you? 

“Love why ask just-”

“I want another baby-” Geto broke your question up, his hips still a mind of their own. His breath ragged against your lips and sweat making his hair cling to him, “With you- Another one- Just one- Let me fill you up- Let me fuck a baby in you- Please- I- I love you so much and-”

“Yes.”

Geto’s turn to be surprised.

“Yes please, god fuck yes- Fuck a baby inside me-” You grab Geto’s face. Caring less if you cum at this point and more for the warmth of his release. Lips smashing onto his you don’t hesitate to moan into the fevered kiss.

Geto pulling you down on him with each thrust. Driving his cock in you as deep as he could. Quicker than before like he was desperate for it. Even while your legs twitched and curled, knowing he was breeding in you, something snapped in you.

The way you can on him. Scream only muffled by the fact Geto wouldn’t move his lips from yours. Each rippling twitch of your cunt around him was maddening. Hearing and feeling you craving him sent him into a tizzy until it was simply too late. With the way he snapped his hips into. A rumbling moan emanating up from his chest. It was far too obvious when the first gush of warmth overwhelmed you.

Full well past just what oozed out of you. The mixture of cum and juices soaked the two of you as Geto’s arms waivered a little. A moment of uncertainty if he was going to pull out and waste the gift he just gave you. Instead you yank him down on you. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders and loosely with your legs around his hips. Making it very obvious he was to stay in place on and in you.

Hand drawn down his back you ignore the sweat between his shoulder blades. Instead engrossed in the feeling of Geto’s cock still inside you and the heat of his chest against yours. Sighing softly to lay a kiss against his cheek you hug him a little tighter, “...you could have just said something you know.”

Exhausted and without a real witty reply. Geto had been saving this all week and now he was a little spent. Mumbling something but you didn’t hear.

The idea of being pregnant, with his child, making you smile more and more with each passing second. Even as cum dripped out of you. It was right away that you kissed the side of his head, “Looks like we gotta keep trying until you succeed huh.”

No question to it there was a twitch of excitement in all of his body. You knew neither of you would be happy now until Geto got what he asked for.

[fficway]

I had to put this somewhere as this has been living rent free in my head for the past week, so here it is:

Obey Me Brothers, and Their Preferred Sexual Positions/Kinks!

🔞 Minors DNI 🔞

This is written as headcannons and MC is Gender Neutral!

Lucifer:

Firstly, Lucifer is definitely a switch.

He's a dominant person normally, but during Guest Appearances he enjoys when MC whips him, AND he's always willing to call MC "Master" when it comes up

Next, when everyone was sucked into Levi's game, Lucifer skipped classes because Diavolo wasn't in that world and he enjoyed the freedom

SO!! This makes me think he has fantasies of slacking off from his work as he pleasures you 👀

Specifically: it gives him a rush knowing that he's purposely not working just to fuck you, with the possibility of getting caught any time!

If you fuck in his office, he's the dom, no question!

He is still a work driven demon, so it would take some time pushing his buttons to get him to that point of abandoning his responsibilities

You do so by teasing him or by playing the sexy aloof card to get him almost drooling

If you fail, the worst that would happen is he would dismiss you from his office and punish you later in the bedroom when he's finished.

But if you succeed...

Your prize (punishment) will be Lucifer's favorite position:

You splayed across his desk, papers scattered everywhere as he rails you!

He'll first lock the door to give you a "proper lecture," and the look in his eye would make your lovely areas heat with excitement

He'll have you bent over his desk, pounding into you while lecturing you

Throwing in some degradation and spanking as he pleases (and it pleases you)

He loves to hear you get loud with his name on your tongue. He wants everyone in the House of Lamentation to KNOW your his, and being fucked good in his office.

Its also a dare for anyone to try to interrupt the two of you and reap the consequences

I repeat: Purposely slacking off from his work to rail you is such a rush for him

Of course, he also enjoys being pleasured from you under his desk as he works too ;)

For the Bedroom: I think Lucifer would def have a bondage kink (you or him wearing it, it doesn't matter to him!)

He is responsible with the after care as well!

Mammon:

It's literally a character trait of his that he's greedy. I mean, he IS the Avatar of Greed!

He's also a Tsundere who gets flustered easily!

So, Mammon always wants more of everything! You give him a kiss on the cheek, he'll want one on the mouth.

"How do you expect that to be enough to satisfy the great Mammon! That isn't nearly enough" (of course he says this with a blush as his Tsundere self can't just ASK for another kiss!)

So you give him a kiss on the lips.

"More"

Then another.

"More"

Then some tongue action.

"More"

Then his kisses will wander to your neck.

"More. I want all of you MC. Every inch. I want you to be mine"

HOWEVER! He would never push you to do anything you don't want to do or aren't ready for!!

Now going onto his favorite position 😏

Its canon that he likes to have things easily without having to work, so he'd love it if you ride him from on top!

He loves where he can see as much of you as possible! He wants to take all of you in!

Mammon is very vocal about what he wants from you during your sexy time!

As for his bedroom talk, his tsundere self would normally beat around the bush when he's trying to be honest, but once he's in an intimate position with you, he'd be showering you with all of the secret thoughts and feelings he has of you that he'd normally hide!

His hands would wander every inch as he'd praise your body

He would kiss you where he could and tell you about how much he adores you

When you talk to him, he'd definitely have a praise kink!

Being lectured by his brothers all the time just gets frustrating to him, and even if it were consensual, he wouldn't prefer being degraded sexually because this is the moment when he's the most honest and vulnerable with you

(Though I'm not saying he wouldn't like it every now and then 👀)

If you told him how great he is, and how amazing he makes you feel, he would be THRILLED

He wants you to feel as amazing as you are

He would be vocal through the entire thing, but as for volume, even though he normally has a loud mouth, he'd probably keep it down as he wouldn't want Lucifer interrupting you two 😂

Mammon on top would definitely bring out his true demon form, and he'd get more bossy with telling you what "more" he wants from you ;)

Of course he would push for aftercare in the most tsundere way

"You probably can't walk after I made you feel so good, so let me get what you need to clean up" (Face RED)

He loves cuddles and for you to fall asleep on his chest :3

(He also totally drools in his sleep!)

Leviathan:

This Otaku would totally be into role playing xD

Would have you dress as one of his favorite characters (if you're willing)

At first he'd be so out of it trying to comprehend if this blessing of you in front of him is real life or not before ending up too nervous to do much at first.

So, you end up with a foreplay reward system as he plays his video games to comfortably ease into it!

The more he wins, the more action he gets ;D

From kissing, to groping, to giving him a blow job as he plays his games until he can't take it

Which leads to his favorite:

Shower Sex!

As Leviathan, the aquatic demon, he'd feel most comfortable (and feel like you have more privacy)

To him it feels like he gets to be closer to you

He loves to be able to touch you all over as you fuck

This boy is LOUD!!

"UUUAAAAAUUUGGH!!"

(This is canon, we all know this xD)

As for vocal kinks, this Otaku would probably love it if you used allusions to his favorite games in some sexy way

"Like Ezio, I'm great from behind and above"

"I know my way around the cleft of dimension, want me to show you?"

"Are you up for a little tactical insertion?"

He'd also love skinny dipping and fucking you in pools and lakes too for sure! ;3

You can clean up easily in the shower afterwards!

Cuddles!!! (You replace his body pillow! What a privilege!)

Asmodeus:

It is no question this man has a LOT of experience

He loves it every which way and more!

He's all for the Vanilla but LIVES for the kinky stuff

Praise kink to the GODS!

As long as you're admiring him, he is happy!

He doesn't need a scene set to get to business, he's ready to go anytime!

Which is why its more than likely his favorite sex is Public Sex.

He loves to share with the world the art of sex and the beauty that is the two of you in intercourse!

This of course would depend on your comfort! If you wanted to keep your sexual encounters private, he would oblige!

He's a pleaser!!

He loves admiration, and he loves sex, so as long as you're happy with how he's fucking you, and you're vocal about it, he is pleased himself!

Position-wise, I think whatever is your favorite is what he'd be ready and willing to do!

Basically any and every kink he loves, and is more than willing to be the top or bottom!

He can go for MANY rounds!

((@mogmoe drew their headcanon for what the brothers' tongues would look like while in their full demon forms and gave Asmo tentacle tongue so do with that as you will ;3))

(Sorry this seems kinda vague but I mean anything you can think of he's probably already done it and more, and enjoys every bit of it!)

Satan:

With how this man wants to be seen as an individual and not just a prior part of Lucifer, he wants to be SEEN during sex!

He's a dom! He can blush and act shy and all normally, but in the bedroom he is totally dominant!

Would definitely have some hot angry sex with you given his temper!

Pushing you up against a wall and fucking you stupid

Splay you across his book clad floor or toss you on the bed to rail you

But you always have to be looking at him!

"Who's the one fucking you right now?"

Loves hearing you say his name!

He'll kiss you every time just to taste his name coming off of your tongue

He also reads a ton of books, so this man has read his fair share about how to pleasure his partner properly ;)

No matter if you're on the bed or against the wall, you have to stay wrapped around him!

He wants to know how much you want him!

He'll deny you your orgasm to make you beg him and say his name

He'll eventually let you have your relief and loves if you'll hold him close as you do

Sweet forehead kisses after you both finish as he praises you

Proper aftercare! Whatever you need, he's sweetly obliging

He'll love to fall asleep in your arms! :)

Beelzebub:

First of all, this man almost never stops eating

He'll give you plenty of affection, but he'll usually be stuffing his mouth or snacking as he does.

But he's not neglectful! It's just his nature as the Avatar of Gluttony that he's always hungry!

So you play into this so that he enjoys the process as you get him in the mood 👀

Using whatever treat you like to eat, you eat it in front of him, but only have the smallest portion possible (for example, maybe just two or three pieces of candy)

Of course he'll ask for a piece, so that's when you'll hit him with "Oh I'm sorry Beel, but that was the last one"

Before he has a chance to get sad about it (or you can wait until he pouts since he's adorable) you offer to share the last piece

Naturally he'll want to share it

But its already in your mouth ;)

He'll shyly kiss you to get a taste of the treat off your lips

"So soft"

He'll kiss you again, but this time with a flick of his tongue

He'll make another remark, but this time about the taste of the treat

"I want to taste more"

Cue the tongue action!

If the treat is still in your mouth, prepare to fight to keep it

If it isn't still in your mouth, he'll explore every inch to taste what's left of it

This man uses his mouth muscles to eat pounds of food every day, so he is a fantastic kisser!

He'll get so invested in the taste of you that he forgets about the treat altogether

This is where it gets steamy 😏

He wants his mouth everywhere

On your neck

Your chest

Your shoulders

Your stomach

There's not much sex talk from him because his mouth is always busy on you, but he makes plenty of comments to compliment you and your body!

Eventually, he'll want to taste the best parts of you 😏

His favorite: having his mouth on your nether regions ;)

He'll get so invested that he'll accidentally transform into his true demon form

((@mogmoe 's headcanon for Beel's tongue while in his true form was large like the size of a cow's tongue, so I'm playing off that!))

If you're a person with a vagina, his large tongue will be pumping in and out to taste every inch of your walls/If you're a person with a penis, he'll suck you like a popsicle to get your juices, and you know he can deep throat with no issue

If you like getting your ass eaten, he'll do that too

All the while you hold onto his horns like handle bars as he works his magic tongue and mouth

He doesn't have a preference for how you talk during sex, but if you praise him, it would definitely make him happy and encourage him to do more for you!

If you want to get him off too, he definitely loves 69ing!!

It feels to him as if you're both sharing a meal together, but in a more special and intimate way!

Afterwards, he would be super sleepy. He'd pull you close and be like a very large teddy bear cuddling up to you.

(Though he would wake up later for some midnight snacks!)

Belphegor:

I can already tell you now: Lazy Fucking!

This man loves to cuddle as much as possible!

He'll sleep with his head in your lap, he'll fall asleep on your shoulder, he'll spoon you (little or big, it doesn't matter to him!)

If he wants to get steamy after waking up with his head in your lap, he'll start to work with his mouth as his face is already down there

If he wakes up with his head on your shoulder, he'll start lazily kissing along your neck

During cuddling, his hands will mindlessly wander. He may reach back to get handsy if he's the little spoon. Or he might grind on you a little while kissing your neck from behind if he's the big spoon.

But his favorite: lazily fucking you from behind

Laying on top of you, his chest pressed to your back, his hand intertwined with yours, all as his dick slowly pumps in and out of you

He would whisper sweet praises to you, maybe tell you about what he dreamed while he was asleep!

His other hand would help to assist with your pleasure.

He probably would be too tired for aftercare, but for you he's always willing to do it!

Of course more cuddling will follow!

-

I dont know if it's obvious but I'm still kinda new to Obey Me! I'm in chapter/lesson 13, so if some of these seem OOC, please let me know! This is my first time publishing headcanons, or rather any of my writing in general, so let me know what you think!

[the-iceni-bitch]

The Bitch is Back

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x fem!Reader (OTP)

Words: ~2.8k

Summary: You run into Ransom’s cunt of an ex again and it goes about as well as expected.

Warnings: explicit language, Ransom looking like a whole snack, fluff, that blonde bitch, Linda being a cunt, extremely abusive language and allusions to past emotional abuse, more angst than I had intended, my undying love for these two idiots, too many feelings

A/N: I hate her, I hate her, I hate her, I hate her, I hate her, I hate her! Sorry everyone, the angst took over this one and what I had intended to be another fun romp a la Girl Fight turned into a pit of emotion that I couldn’t dig myself out of. I’m gonna go cry.

“Baby, you know we can just go home, right?” Ransom gave you a tired but indulgent smile when he looked at you, tucking his fingers under your chin and tilting your head back so he could look into your eyes while you swallowed thickly.

“No, I’m not gonna give your mother the satisfaction of seeing me duck out of this thing.” You got that stubborn set to your jaw that told him to quit trying to take care of you, because proving to his bitch mother you could actually make it through one of these stupid events without causing some kind of scene was more important than your comfort right now.

You felt bile rise in your throat and swallowed it again. This was fucking ridiculous, you weren’t even on a boat, just the dock. But you still felt like you were going to vomit at any second, watching the motion of the boats rocking on the water making your gut lurch. It almost made you wonder if Linda knew about your stomach’s aversion to being on water when she had insisted on the two of you attending their fucking sailing club’s final regatta. 

“Here we go, one scopolamine patch.” You could’ve kissed Anne when she handed it to you, grateful that Ben’s boat was moored in this marina so you didn’t have to spend the rest of this stupid thing constantly swallowing your own vomit. “Why didn’t you bring your own?”

“She said she’d be fine if she didn’t actually go on the boats.” Ransom ignored the glare you shot him when he talked to Anne over your head, rubbing your arm softly when he pulled you closer to him.

“Did I tell you how much I hate that you two get along?” You frowned when Ransom pressed his lips to your hair, slapping the patch on your neck and sighing when you felt your stomach start to settle.

Anne just laughed at you, shaking her head as she sipped on her cocktail and leaned against Ben. The fact that this guy actually treated you like you deserved did a lot to endear him to her, even if he was an asshole sometimes.

You had been worried at first about introducing Anne to Ransom’s idiot friends, no matter how much they had grown on you. But your friend could hold her own, her no nonsense attitude endearing her to the girls as she chewed out Logan for some dumbass comment while Dylan and Chaz just chuckled that now there were two of you.

This was one of the few things that you actually felt out of your element with, since you could not give a single fuck about sailing with your stupid seasickness. But you could tell Ran was enjoying himself, and every fucking time he got near the water he looked so fucking windswept and dreamy so it was well worth the nausea. That was all gone now though, the scopolamine making you feel just the tiniest bit drowsy and pleasantly warm while Ran pulled you tight against his chest as he whistled for his team’s boat between nuzzling himself into your hair with pleased little hums. Even Linda giving you some vicious side eye couldn’t break you out of your good mood, the warmth of Ransom wrapped around you like a balm for your typical nervous energy. Then you heard Jess mutter an “oh shit” and the sound of a bratty, whiny voice broke right through your pleasant haze and made your spine stiffen.

“Rannie?” That fucking blonde bitch would show up to something like this, just to ruin your day. “I thought that was you. Oh, still with your tramp, I see.”

“Sloane.” His grip around you grew almost painfully tight, growling into your neck as he did his best to take deep breaths. “Don’t you have some puppies to skin, or something?”

You grabbed his hand and wound your fingers through his as you felt him tense up, pressing your lips to the inside of his wrist in an attempt to help him calm down. It had been your sincere hope that after you beat the shit out of this cunt you would never have to see her again, but when had you ever been that lucky?

“Aww, Rannie, thought you couldn’t talk without this bitch’s permission.” She looked mildly uncomfortable when you shifted your gaze to her, your eyes narrowing in a warning that she chose to ignore. “Been missing you a whole lot, baby, when’re you gonna stop slumming around?”

“What the fuck do you want, Sloane?” You were chanting over and over in your head that you were not going to fight this cunt, catching Anne starting to square up from the corner of your eye and giving her a small shake of the head to get her to stand down.

“I’m not talking to you, slut.” She must’ve been drunk, you had definitely taught her her lesson last time. “Just because you can give this bastard a good, sloppy fuck doesn’t mean you get to keep him. You don’t know what he really needs, and he’s too fucking stupid to tell you. God, you’re only sticking with him because he’s such a good fuck, right? That’s like, his only redeeming quality, except for the money. And you and your low class pussy don’t even know what to do with such a fine piece of eye candy.”

“Ok, you need to leave, Sloane.” Ransom may have been full of the anxiety he always felt around his ex, but the way your whole body was wound tight like a spring let him know you were ready to get violent. So he pressed a brief, soothing kiss to your hair and moved to guide this drunk bitch away from another beating.

“Don’t you fucking touch me, god, you really are a fucking moron.” Sloane jerked away from him when he tried to guide her away from your group, turning and sneering derisively at him. “Fuck’s sake, Linda was right, she really should have aborted you so we wouldn’t have to deal with your stupid bull shit.”

“What the fuck did you just say?” You reached your arm out to grip Ransom’s shoulder on instinct when he recoiled like he had been slapped, pulling him towards you protectively as you stared disbelieving at the people around you. “What the fuck did she just say?”

Sloane was just grinning at you wickedly as she sipped on her drink, like she had never and would never do anything wrong in her life. You almost forgot your promise you’d made to not get yourself kicked out of this event, but then Ran was clutching at your waist and making a choked sound and you turned back to him with concern.

There was no one to hold back Anne though, and she hadn’t made any promises about being on her best behavior. So she handed Ben her purse and punched that bitch right in the jaw.

You just gave a grateful look to your best friend before she bitch slapped that twat, security already starting to rush towards the fight as you guided Ransom towards the parking lot while he tried to regulate his breathing.

“Baby? Hey, Ran, look at me.” You’d never seen him look so completely lost, his eyes glistening with pent up emotion when you finally got him to look at you and you felt your heart break. “Oh honey, can you make it to the car?” He just nodded at you as another strangled sob escaped his throat and every fiber of your being ached to give him some form of comfort. “Ok, gimme the keys.”

He handed them to you and you wound your arm around him to guide him towards the beemer, letting him lean heavily on your shoulder and murmuring soft, soothing noises to him as you tried to think of something you could do for him. You knew that bitch was an abusive piece of work but Ran had been so hesitant to talk about it and you didn’t want to push him about it before he was ready, but if the way he reacted to her barb was any indication of how she treated him you might end up killing that bitch.

Ransom’s breathing seemed even more ragged by the time you reached the beemer, barely giving you a chance to shove the front seat down so the two of you could climb into the back and you could instruct him to stretch out over your lap. Your own throat was starting to get tight when he let out a wretched sob, the fingers of one hand running through his hair while the other smoothed over his chest as you watched his face closely.

“Baby, I need you to breathe for me, ok?” You were trying your best to keep your voice low and even, taking a deep breath and waiting for him to mirror your actions until he was pressing his face to your stomach with a piteous whine once his breathing had regulated slightly. “That’s it, you’re doing so good, Ran, just keep breathing.” 

He sighed deeply when you continued murmuring soft words of praise to him, his fingers curling over yours on his chest as he looked up at you and felt the softness of your gaze spread like warmth through his body. 

“I’m sorry.” He moaned when you pulled gently on his hair, his voice raspy with the tears he’d managed to swallow.

“No, baby.” You curled over him and brushed your lips over his forehead, trying not to cry when he wrapped his arms around your neck and let out another shaky breath. “You don’t apologize, ever, you hear me?”

“I thought I was over this shit.” He buried his face in your neck and breathed deep, your warm scent washing over him and finally making him relax. “I don’t want to put this on you.”

“Listen to me, Ransom.” You pulled back a little so you could gaze into his eyes, resting your forehead against his and maneuvering until you were laying next to him across the backseat. “I don’t know if you really think I’m just with you for the sex or what, but when I say I love you, I fucking mean it. I love all of you, so much, and that means that you can put all of it on me, ok? I’m not going anywhere.”

“Fuck, I love you, too.” He whined when you pressed your lips to his gently, drinking you in and pulling you to him as tight as possible when you let him deepen the kiss. “Need you so much.”

“I know, Ransom, I’m here.” You moved your lips up to his cheeks when he finally let his tears start to fall, kissing each one that stained his cheeks as you splayed your body over his while he held you. “My sweet boy, it’s ok. Let go for me, baby.”

He buried his face in your shoulder and did as you asked. It wasn’t loud or dramatic, but you could feel the warm wetness of his tears against the bare flesh of your neck while his chest heaved against yours. You cooed soft words of encouragement into his hair as he wept, letting a few of your own tears fall as you felt the tension slowly seep from his body.

Neither of you were sure how long you laid there tangled with each other, but eventually Ransom felt the last of the pain drain out of him until he was sinking against the seat with exhaustion. Having you there with him was like a balm for his soul, the way your eyes moved to search his once you felt him let out a deep sigh making his lips quirk in a small smile. His eyes were brilliantly blue from the tears he had shed, but you could see a glimmer of something hopeful there, and that made you relax. You sighed when he framed your face with his hands and pulled your lips back to his, the kiss chaste but full of emotion that he was too exhausted to vocalize at the moment.

“You ready to go home?” You pressed your hand over his heart when you leaned back a little, glad to feel that it had slowed down to a normal rhythm as he nodded for you. “Ok, you just stay back here and rest, alright? When we get home I’m gonna draw us a nice bath and we’ll just spend the rest of the day vegging.”

“That sounds good.” He watched you climb back into the front seat with a deep breath, squeezing your hand when you let it linger on his chest before letting you pull it away with reluctance.

You peeked at him through the rear view mirror before pulling out, relieved when you watched his eyes drift closed as he sagged into the seat and let his exhaustion take over. It almost hurt you how much you loved that man, and if you ever saw that cunt who hurt him again, there was a good chance you were going to jail for him.

Ransom was still dozing by the time you pulled up to the house, but he roused quickly when he felt you shake him awake. He let you help him out of the car and smiled warmly at you when you brought your hand up to cup his jaw, humming contentedly when you let him bury his face in your hair as you guided him into the house.

You pressed a kiss to his cheek once you were inside and instructed him to go to the en suite while you got some wine, watching him closely as he headed up the stairs before moving to grab a good bottle from the rack. There was a buzzing from your purse and you pulled out your phone, texting Anne that everything was ok and no, you didn’t need her to smash that bitch’s windows in. She was detailing all the ways she was going to fuck that cunt up and making you chuckle when suddenly the last caller ID you expected flashed across your screen.

“Can I help you with something, Linda?” You poured the Syrah into a decanter and moved to grab a couple of glasses, curious why exactly she was calling you.

“Y/N…” she sounded massively uncomfortable but you could not bring yourself to give a single fuck. “I just… I heard what Sloane said and I wanted to make sure Ransom was alright. He wasn’t answering my calls though.”

“Good for him.” You chewed on your lip as you considered what you wanted to say to her. “Was she lying?”

“What?”

“Did you tell your own child you should have aborted him? Or was that abusive cunt you kept forcing down your son’s throat being a lying bitch?” 

“I never… I didn’t tell him.” She still sounded like she thought she was in the right, and you might have spit in her face if she was in front of you.

“Oh, but you said it, didn’t you?” You sneered and downed the glass of wine you’d poured when you saw her number pop up. She didn’t deny it, and you quickly moved to pour yourself another glass. “You’re a fucking piece of work, Linda.”

“I don’t have to explain myself to you.” You could  practically hear her spine straightening over the phone and you rolled your eyes at her. “You don’t know what it was like trying to raise him. Stubborn and spoiled and…”

“Goodbye, Linda. Don’t fucking call either of us again.” You hung up before she could continue, tossing your phone across the counter and draining your glass before grabbing the decanter and glasses before heading upstairs.

“Hey, baby.” He was already soaking when you walked into the steam filled en suite, his head leaning back against the edge of the drop in tub and giving you a lazy grin. “You have trouble picking a wine?”

“No.” You set the decanter and glasses on the tray at the tub’s edge and pinned your hair off your neck before getting undressed and sliding into the water with him. “I had to talk to your mother.” 

“Oh, you had to?” He pulled you against his chest and sighed when you tucked your face into his neck.

“Yeah, I wanted to make sure she didn’t disturb us for the rest of the weekend.” You took a deep breath when he started trailing his fingers over your spine, the warmth of the water seeping through your body and helping you relax as you sank into him. “You wanna talk about what happened?”

“Later.” His arms wound tightly around you, nuzzling into your hair and breathing in the scent of you that always made him feel like he was home. “Just wanna hold you for now.”