#i just want to trim clips

[macveigh]

you guys how tf do you make edits using premier i am afraid that i have lied on my resume when i said i knew how to use this damn thing im ao confused

[akirakirxaa]

Persephone's not sure what's going on but she and Pommy are going to figure it out.

[gibbearish]

u guys all have to pinky promise ull watch the video when i finish it

[burlesque-grin]

{Seeing as i don't have any of the drama CDs, but still wanted to give everyone an IC example of Ches' voice after all these years of having this blog around-- Decided that posting his character song was the next best thing lol, seeing as i've had the file for ages now anyways--}

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for getting upset when my mom insists on clipping my nails?

I (adult male) still live with my mother because of finances/personal situations that make me unable to earn my own living. For the most part, this is fine. However, there's one thing that bugs me: she insists on trimming my nails for me.

I know it sounds weird, and it is. She's been trimming my nails since I was little, and I've always hated it. But now I'm an adult, and I don't need her to trim my nails for me, but every two weeks or so, she insists on doing it anyway. I'll admit that I have coordination issues that make things like that difficult for me to accomplish on my own, and hygiene isn't my strong suit either. But I don't need (or want) her to keep trimming my nails for me. How do I tell her to stop?

I've tried to explain it to her, but it's like I'm speaking another language or something. I've tried more direct methods, like pulling my hand away when she tries to bring out the clippers, but then she just says I'm being childish and it'll be over faster if I just let her do it, and that her dogs (she has two, they both hate me) are more well-behaved than I am. And then she trims my nails anyway, no matter how many times I tell her I hate it!

So yesterday, I finally got fed up. And right as she grabbed my hand and tried to come in with the clippers, I pulled my hand away and jabbed her with my quills! And then I curled up in a ball, so she couldn't get to my paws at all. She tried to reach for my paws, but I just poked her again.

My mom got annoyed, and said we'll have to try again tomorrow since clearly I'm in a bad mood. She seemed upset, and I feel a little bad for poking her so much since usually we have a good relationship. So tumblr, am I the asshole?

Pic of me so you can see that I'm a grown man that doesn't need his nails trimmed!

What are these acronyms?

[i-like-gay-books]

just bought myself a new set of hair cutting scissors and a fine toothed comb and midterm papers are about to be underway you know what’s up

[steddietogo]

So. This is my own take on Steddie meet cute at the Grammys (gets a little thirsty in the middle for a second so warning I guess??)

———

The buzzing in his veins feel too much to contain in Eddie’s body, his cheeks ache from grinning too hard. He grabs Jeff by the shoulders to shake him and Jeff takes it without complain, too busy floating in his own cloud nine to do anything about it. All four of them are.

They’re being carted off from one interview to another, it’s all hazy in his mind, all he can think of is that they won a fucking Grammy.

“We’re here backstage with Corroded Coffin with their first ever Grammy from the best rock performance category,” the interviewer is saying, then he turns to face the band, and shit. Eddie has to sling an arm over Gareth to keep himself upright. “So how are you guys feeling right now?”

“It feels very validating to get the recognition for all our hard work—” and everything else Jeff says barely registers. Eddie is staring, he’s distantly aware of it. But he should hardly be blamed. The man before him is dressed in a deep caramel suit, jacket cinching around a trim waist and bubble gum pink lips stretched in a smile as he diligently listens to what his band has to say.

“— and Eddie, he’s really put his heart and soul in this song in particular,” the mention of his name unceremoniously drags him back to the land of the living where his bandmates know him too well and are actively trying to sabotage him before the sexy interviewer. Gareth is innocently blinking up at Eddie with his I’ve-never-done-anything-wrong-in-my-life eyes, urging him to speak.

“Um,” Um? Seriously? “Mob Mentality is an especially significant song to me personally—” Eddie’s given this spiel a hundred times, not that any word of it is untrue, but the practiced response lets him zone out just the right amount to fully drown himself in the shade of hazel of the interviewer’s eyes, imagine them looking up at Eddie from between his thighs, full of tears— goddamnfuckstopit.

The man must notice, because there’s a gorgeous smattering of pink dusting his cheeks Eddie could swear wasn’t there before.

After, Eddie is pretty much bodily dragged away from there, legs refusing to carry him away. He twists even as he’s walking, desperate to keep the man within his sights for even just a second longer. To keep him looking at Eddie, which by some miracle, he still is. And like an idiot Eddie waves, wiggling his fingers at him.

The man raises his own hand in return, and then he’s turning away, leaving Eddie to mourn the loss of his attention. But then he hears it— Steve. The camera guy calls him Steve. Sexy interviewer’s name is Steve. That in itself would be enough to sustain Eddie’s daydreams for some time.

———

Predictably, its all over social media the very next day. Or more accurately there’s one particular clip circling the net like there’s no tomorrow.

Eddie Munson simping for hot guy at the Grammys.

The comments were the worst (best) part. Eddie hasn’t dated since coming out to the public. And the fact that most of the comments people have about him openly showing interest in another man is just nonchalance or excitement makes him feel much better about it.

Eddie’s heart skips as he sees the face from last night in the clip, looking even more gorgeous than in his dreams if it were even possible. And then there is also Eddie in those clips, practically undressing him with his eyes, right there in public. He looks like he wants to open him up and lick him like melted chocolate in a wrapper.

Eddie was so screwed.

———

Top comments:

user 80085: that man is stronger than me because I don’t think I’d survive Eddie Munson looking at me like that

CorrodedFC: Eddie Munson Rendered momentarily speechless? by an interviewer?? More likely that you think

you_call_me_munson: they need to date. Right this second or I’m stealing one of the hotties for myself

———

Part II

[levmada]

Difficulties Levi has had to accept and adjust to since being discharged from the hospital—which aren’t mutually inclusive just yet—were countless already. Then came the matter of his hair.

There is one person and one person only whom he considers trusting with his hair.

Actually, he trusts you without question regardless of whatever it is. He'd just be lying if he said he wasn't nervous.

Your shared bathroom has a mirror stretching the length of the counter. He refused to sit in his wheelchair and get it covered in hair, and maneuvering into a proper chair wasn't difficult. He finds an excuse to look away from his obnoxiously overgrown bangs and awkwardly tacked-on white scar tape—and looks for you in the corner of the mirror. You set down the wheelchair somewhere outside his line of sight.

It's been several months, but he still finds it hard to accept.

He looks ahead again when he hears your footsteps, so he looks nothing but annoyed by what is surely a chore. In truth he’s so nervous he can hear his own heartbeat, and doesn’t hear you announce yourself.

You unwrap a towel on a the counter to reveal all your supplies. Nothing extravagant, it being everything he asked you to get.

Before you begin, you press a kiss to the top of his head.

The snipping sounds are terribly loud in his ears, little scrapes of a fork on a plate. It’s even the hardest thing to mess up the shaping where his undercut lays in the back, but even still.

He didn't imagine it like this. Certainly not so many memories coming, when over three decades have passed since someone else did this—Mom. In his memories she has him sat on the thin edge of their rusty bath, her kneeling behind him, and trimmed with a dull pair of fabric scissors. He can’t remember for sure, but there’s no way she made it look bad.

He hated getting his hair cut, he remembers just now. They only had one hairbrush, and the guilt would eat him up over Mom, who used it obsessively to keep her long hair neat and perfect.

So the feel of her fingers carding through his hair, or using the metal comb, was extremely painful. She'd chastise him gently. But he still couldn't bring himself.

Yet, now today, he hates himself for having hated it.

Levi can’t help but glance at his neck in the mirror. Later on, when he first asked Kenny to cut his hair, he threatened to clip his tiny throat from his shoulders with a pair of shears if he ever asked for help with something so stupid ever again. If he couldn't do something that basic by himself, he was destined to die a weak runt.

It was an odd overreaction from Kenny in retrospect.

He is weak now.

But he doesn't need to be strong any longer.

Unsure of how to feel, he makes an effort not to think at all until you pipe up that you want him to see. You pluck a handheld mirror from the counter for him to see.

He immediately makes a face, which he shoots at your reflection. "Hey. This is too long."

You smile. "I wanted to be extra careful so I don't go too short. Too much is better than too little. It's even, right?"

It is even.

He nods stiffly, pinning his tongue between his teeth as he looks away from the mirror. Like back then, this is suddenly painful, but only in the way that shows him another way in which you tell him that you love him.

Levi masterlist | main masterlist

[usergif]

HOW TO: Cross-Fade Multiple Gifs

Hi! In this tutorial, I'm going to go over how I typically do a fade transition that works with Video Timeline. Disclaimer: This tutorial assumes you have a basic understanding of gif-making in Photoshop and requires the use of keyframes.

Before I start, if you're wondering "why don't you just use the cross fade tool on the Timeline?" — this thing:

It doesn't work for me 🤷🏻‍♀️ Something happens when converting from Video Timeline back to Frame Animation (the converting everything into a smart object step) that completely negates the cross fade whenever I use it. I'm not sure why, but this is why I do fade transitions the way I'm about to explain.

PHASE 1: THE GIFS

1.1 – Determine how many frames you need. There are 3 things to remember here: 1) Ideally, each gif section should have the same amount of frames, so the transitions feel evenly spaced. 2) The gif's dimensions and total number of frames affect file size. Your final exported gif needs to be under 10MB (Tumblr's limit), so you should consider the total number of frames in relation to the size of your gif. My example gif is 540x540px and 60 frames total; final file size = 7.8MB. 3) Add 4 extra frames to each section to account for the cross-faded portion. (The reason I chose 4 specifically is because Video Timeline works in 0.03-second intervals. The typical duration of my fade transitions is 0.06 seconds — which, when converted back to frames, is 4 frames.) I knew 60 total frames would be a safe bet for a gif this size. Since I had 3 gif sections, each would be 20 frames. I added 4 additional frames, making each one 24 frames (before removing duplicates in the exporting process, which will be explained in Phase 3). You can make your transitions longer than 0.06, but I recommend keeping it to intervals of 0.03 due to the way Timeline works. Every 0.03 seconds = 2 frames, so use this when deciding how many extra frames you'll need.

1.2 – Import frames, crop, and resize. Do this as you normally would! If you need a tutorial for the basics, here's my tutorial. :)

1.3 – Move all gifs onto one document/canvas. Right-click the gif layer and select "Duplicate Layer:"

Then choose the appropriate document from the dropdown list:

Do this for each gif section so you can work on one document for the rest of the process.

1.4 – Put each gif into its own group. Select each layer and use the shortcut Command+G or right-click and select "Group from Layers." In Phase 2, we'll be putting the opacity keyframes on the groups instead of the individual layers.

1.5 – Arrange each gif's group on the Timeline. At the end of Gif 1, move backwards 6 times. Move the starting point of Gif 2 to this spot. At the end of Gif 2, move back 6 times and make this Gif 3's starting point. Here's how my gifs look arranged on the Timeline, animated so you can see the 6-space distance:

We'll be adding keyframes to these overlapping sections in Phase 2.

1.6 – Set up the last transition. At the very beginning of the Timeline, hit the forward button 6 times and click the scissors to divide the clip. Move the starting point of your gif to the newly trimmed beginning as shown below:

Then, move the original beginning chunk of Gif 1 — that tiny 0.06-second clip — to the end of the timeline above the rest of your layers, aligning its end with the end of Gif 3. Put it in a group like you did in Step 1.4:

Note: This screenshot shows my final workspace with the coloring layers in groups and the keyframes already placed.

1.7 – Color your gifs. Do this however you want, just keep all your adjustment layers and any other effects within their respective groups:

Duplicate the adjustment layers from Gif 1 and move them into the folder Gif 1 - Beginning (where your tiny 0.06-second clip is). Be sure the adjustment layers line up with the rest of the group so those adjustments don't affect your other gifs! You may want to trim the adjustment layers to match the duration of the clip or just move them so they start at the same spot as that clip.

PHASE 2: THE KEYFRAMES

2.1 – Place a 100% and 0% keyframe at the beginning of each gif's group. Drag the playhead (red vertical line) to the end of Gif 1. Expand the Gif 2 group to reveal the opacity keyframes on the left side of the Timeline panel, then place a keyframe by clicking the icon that looks like a stopwatch. This opacity keyframe is at 100% by default; leave it like that. Drag the playhead to the beginning of Gif 2 and drop another keyframe. While that new keyframe is highlighted yellow, go to the layers panel, make sure Gif 2's group is selected, and reduce the opacity to 0%.

Repeat these steps for each gif's beginning, including the tiny chunk we moved to the end! Here's a gif to show the process:

(Btw, if you click this gif, it should expand to full size so you can get a better look! I made it 1080px.)

PHASE 3: THE DUPLICATES

3.1 – Convert back to Frame Animation. If you're not sure how to do this, I've written out the steps here. But I recommend using an action in your general gif-making process to make this step a lot faster. The one I use is linked in my tutorial which I linked earlier!

3.2 – Delete duplicate frames. Remember, at the beginning I set out to make my final gif 60 frames total. With the keyframe animations, I now have 66 frames:

Palpatine's number 👎 Anyway, that means I have 6 duplicate frames. This is what the gif looks like without removing these duplicates:

Watch closely during the transitions; there's a tiny lag. It doesn't look smooth to me. It's the clones!! Here's why we have these duplicates:

For every 0.03-second long keyframe animation, you'll get 1 duplicate frame. Unfortunately, that's just how Video Timeline works with any kind of animated keyframe. Since our fade transition is 0.06 seconds, we have to get rid of 2 duplicate frames per transition section (2 x 3 transitions sections = 6 total duplicates. Ew, math!).

There's not really a way to avoid this step that I know of, but it's not a big deal in the long run. You just have to look at each transition section, eyeball the duplicate frames yourself, and delete them. It's usually the first frame where the fade starts and then two frames after that. I already deleted the duplicates from the first two transition sections, so here's how it's done for the last transition:

Side note: I set up keyboard shortcuts so I can quickly move forward and backward by one frame and delete frames. You can do this by going to Edit > Keyboard Shortcuts and editing these:

And now I have 60 frames like I originally said I would!

If you want the transition sections to be quicker, you can even decrease the frame delay for the 3 transition frames only — 0.03 or 0.04 might be up to your speed 🥁 but I don't usually do this since I'm fine with the way it looks already.

3.3 – Export. That's it!

I hope this tutorial is helpful. As always, if you have a specific question about this tutorial, feel free to send us an ask!

[alien-magnolia]

Tainted Love

Fic description: This is a dark fic. 18+ MINORS DNI. Dom!-coded Billy Loomis + hyperfeminine, sub-coded afab reader: they are married, committing crimes together <3 and having a wonderful domestic life <3 besides all the blood and murder. Smut/horror genre: kinks include service!, blood!, knifeplay!, ropes!, choking!, spanking!, free-use!, SERVICE, d/s mental dynamics, majorrrr daddy!kink, exhibitionism

If you like this post, pls engage, comment, reblog! It means so much to me, Ty <3 WC 2.7k

October 10, 1996.

The dark red, yellow, with tinges of brown leaves tumbled down the secluded suburban street. A tan cottage stood at the end of a cul-de-sac, yard neatly trimmed, wind chimes ringing on the porch where they hung. A dim light inside. A black van pulls into the driveway, scaring away a few neighboring birds. The door shuts — a young man enters the house.

——

You were just about finished with tonight’s dinner when your partner came back from college. You loved Billy dearly, and so you did almost everything for him. It was your dynamic — and he loved it as well. You served him, your Billy, your daddy.

How exactly did you get involved with a serial killer? Involved far enough to be an equal partner in his crimes? Involved enough to be so cautious and excellent at keeping first-degree murder a secret? Involved enough to live with him?

—-

It began last fall. A chilly November morning, fog rolling in on the campus. You walked in your pretty pink outfit, donning lace and frills, kitten heels, and butterfly hair clips. You were only nineteen. Young. Innocent. You were looking for your ‘Introduction to Early Modern Literature’ class, yet happened to wander over on the other, more secluded side of campus. You stumble over a rock on the sidewalk. You fall, beautiful rosy cheek now stained with a gash of bright, red blood.

Your hands, your knees, cut up from the bumpy pavement. You start crying. This was just too embarrassing!! With your social anxiety and shyness, you really hoped nobody had seen this. You did not like to be perceived by people — that is just how you were. You look around — not a soul to be seen.

Except for a man — lean, sitting on a brick bench, cigarette in hand. You couldn’t make out how he looked, yet fear overtook you as he started making his way over. You start to scramble up, hoping to run away from him, yet your bruises were just too intense for you to do so.

His deep voice asks you, “Hey, sweetheart, you okay? You nod. “Yeah jus’ a few scratches. Can’t see too well in the fog,” you sheepishly explain. “Hey, no worries. Here, I’ll help you up, yeah?” You oblige, taking his big calloused hands in yours as he helps you stand. You finally get a good look at him. God — he was handsome. More than handsome. Extremely, extremely, attractive. You got wet just by looking at his deep brown eyes and crooked smile looking down at you.

“Hey. Don’t be too shy, hun. Come. Want me to help you fix those bruises? There’s a bathroom right around the corner, he suggests. You nod silently, agreeing, following him to a door on the left.

He begins wiping your bruises with a wet towel, trying to stop the bleeding. His tongue pokes out of his mouth as he focuses. You see more of him now. He wears all black. Smells like cigarettes and a dusty old basement. “So what brings you to this part of campus?,” he asks, brown eyes focused on your bruises.

“Just got lost. Needed to find one class but couldn’t. Maybe I’ll skip today anyway…,” you trail off. “Aw. Today’s your first day huh?,” he coos at you, with a smile you just couldn’t figure out. “Um. Yes. I don’t really know the campus, so…,” you quietly answer him, afraid to look into his eyes. His voice, his face, it all made you thirst for him even more.

“I could tell. Hey. Maybe you should skip. Been looking for someone to hang out with,” he suggests, finishing up cleaning your bruises, putting a few bandaids on you. “I’m Billy, by the way.” You introduce yourself to him, a little smile forming on your face. You ended up skipping class that day, spending time with him in that secluded courtyard, smoking cigarettes, listening to The Smiths. You ended up fucking in the bathroom a few hours later. You knew that you were indubitably attracted — glued to him and everything that he was. Something did feel a little off about how he treated others — you did not care.

So it was.

——

~Present day ~

You hear the keys jingle in the doorway, heavy boots make their way towards the kitchen, where you were. You currently donned a short little black dress, fishnets, with nothing underneath. You were waiting for him.

“Hey, sweets. Looking good today,” he compliments you, as he takes your small hand in his, moving you closer to him, wrapping a hand around your waist. You giggle as he peppers your cheek with kisses. “Sweetie. Want’a ask you something,” he insists, quietly, yet confidently. Your big eyelashes blink as you wait for his question.

“Wanna play with me tonight?,” a sinister smile adorns his face, his brown eyes filled with a hint of malice, excitement. Your eyes match his. You loved playing with him, your sessions, where you gave over complete control of yourself, to him. You trusted him completely. He led, you followed.

You were his. His prey, his little girl, his accomplice. You were his, devoted completely, mind and body. The two of you even had matching tattoos: a forever symbol of your unique relationship.

“Yes, daddy. What first?” He chuckles lowly. “Glad you asked, princess. We’re going to the van.” You smile back at him, as he gives you a kiss, pulling you closer to him by your neck. You knew what to do, sticking your hands out, as he takes a rope from the nearby drawer.

The rope felt nice around your wrists, you liked to watch him tie it. You didn’t want your freedom when you played with him. “Daddy’s girl, all tied up, huh? Come sweets. Let’s go to the van,” he sneers at you in the best possible way, as he leads you outside. Still, he manages to grab a coat for you, alongside some knives. You suspected that both of you will be using those later.

“Before we leave our house, thought we might have a bit of fun in the van, what’dya say? I think it’ll be nice for my little girl, yeah?,” he croons at you, caressing your cheek, before gripping it harshly, brown eyes boring into yours.

You’re on your knees for him in his dingy van. His waffle knit white t-shirt feels nice on your bound hands, as you see him start to unbuckle his belt, dropping his jeans to the floor of the van. “Give daddy’s cock some love, hun,” you hear, and his strong arms work to push you down to the floor. You look up at him from your back, you see him towering over you, cock in his calloused hand, slowly rubbing it. He lowers his cock and balls onto your face, you love the feeling of his heavy ball sack on your chin. His cock was wide, not too long, yet wide, weeping, with three beautiful veins and a beauty mark <3

It was all red and ready for your wet throat. You took him eagerly, sucking so much pressure, you felt his silky smooth voice moan out in ecstasy. You keep sucking, swirling your tongue around the mushroom tip of his cockhead. He pulls a knife to the side of your cheek. You stop.

“Look what daddy’s got here hun. You don’t like this little toy, do you?,” he taunts. With that, he lowers the knife to your chest, where he makes a gentle cut on it. He liked to cut you with his knife. Another way to possess you, to mark you as HIS.

“Get up, sweets. Daddy’s gonna cum if you keep this shit up.” He chuckles, and helps you up, wiping that little cut he made with a towel. That same towel now goes in your mouth as a makeshift gag.

His hands tightly grip your hips, pushing you down onto the floor of the van again. Hips spread, gagged, hands still tied, you felt his finger swipe across your clit, down your labia, trailing over your wet, wet, pussy. Your hole was clenching around nothing!! He was going to fix that.

“Aww. Look at you , sweetie. Cheeks all rosy, ass up for me, ready to be bred,” he taunts. You only moan in response. “Does daddy’s little girl want to be bred, hmm? Like a little cow?” You moan in response, he tuts, and lifts your neck up gently. “What was that?,” voice low. Shit. You fucked up.

“Yes, daddy,” your voice is muffled through the gag. He smiles again, that dark smile of his. Sinister. Evil. Exactly what you wanted to see. Without warning, you feel him push into you. Wide, throbbing, filling that sweet spot exactly how you wanted. He went slow for just a little, relishing how good his little girl, his breeding cow, dumpster, was for him. Then he went fast. Too fast. You loved hearing the sound of his cock and balls slap against your ass, your squelching pussy <3

You feel so full of him, you saw stars as his wife cock drilled deeper and deeper into you. You felt him twitch inside, your favorite part!! “Take my cum, baby. Fuckin’ take it,” you hear him grunt, as his hands press your body down into a mating press, his stomach now on top of your back. He had you caged in, tied, gagged, absolutely abusing you on his wide cock. You were in heaven. You were his now, in this moment. The both of you came, and of course, he did not let you squeeze his cum out of you.

“Keep it in, hmm? Want our visitors to know that you’re daddy’s girl.” You nod and smile, making grabby hands at him once he unties your wrists, and takes the towel out of your mouth. He lifts you up into his lap, peppering your face with kisses, smiling up at you as you giggle.

He helps you get dressed, gently cooing at you as you show him the carpet burn you got from being on your knees for so long. He kisses it to make it better <3 and even puts on your white frilly socks for you, helping you with your little black kitten heels and your dress.

“Where to next, daddy?,” you giddily await his answer. “Now, we drive. To meet our special guests for tonight,” he replies, your smile now matching his level of sinister. The both of you were about to go have some fun, with some unconventional guests as well.

——-/

It was now almost midnight. After your play session in the van, you couldn’t wait to play in front of your guests!! The both of you listen to heavy metal as Billy speeds down an abandoned road, the rotting leaves blowing towards the sides from the van passing by on the road. He pulls his van up a few meters close to the woods, and parks.

“Coat, baby.” You nod, and he puts your black puffer on. He leads you to the backseat, where a black trunk with a lock is placed. He opens it. His mask. Ghostface. He puts it on his hip, putting on black clothes over his nice ones. He gives you gloves, and a knife. One for himself as well. Binoculars.

“Come, hun. This way.” You follow him up into a tree, where the both of you take turns with your binoculars. He takes out his block of a phone. How you loved the 90’s. He dials the number, telling you to watch their reaction in the windows. “Hi. What’s your favorite scary movie,” Billy's voice drawls out to his unsuspecting victims in the mansion that you were currently hiding outside of.

Billy continued to harass them on the phone, beckoning you down the tree quietly, and closer and closer to the person’s backyard. Billy stays on the phone, pointing at you to stay put, and opens the window on the first floor. You wait outside, as he slips on in.

You knew what to do. You’d wait for his signal, then follow him in. Then, came your favorite part: where Billy shows you off to his victims <3

You see his hand signal through the window. You step on inside, and see the couple tied to each other, this time with metal chains. Billy is wearing his mask. “Just in time for the show, sweetheart. Kneel.”

You do as said, loving the absolutely sadistic smile on his face right now. He puts on your leash ( only for when in front of un-consenting others) and has to crawl to sit at his knees. “You see here, my two pretties, you two are going to watch me fuck my little princess here. After that, I’ll decide if you get to live,” he chuckles in absolute glee.

“By the way, if you two decide to make a sound, or go at my little girl here, I’ll stab ya. Sounds good? My, my, what a perfect, scary movie,” he narrates to himself, to you, to the two victims, who looked like they were about to mentally lose it. <3

He skips with the foreplay, the blowjob, the fingering. He gets right to it. He wants his victims to see his pretty girl, on his own terms. He roughly pushes you down onto the floor, strong hands positioning your hips in place, giving your ass a few harsh spanks <3 you hear the belt buckle slip, and soon enough, you can feel the warmth of his already hard cock near your puffy pussy.

Your eyes are drawn to the couple. You loved being shown off, being watched. They did not want to watch you. But that is okay. Billy is going to make them. :)

They watch in horror as he starts rutting into you like a beast, bloody knife that he used on one of the victims nearing your neck, staying there. The knife soon drops, he gives it to you to hold as he starts losing control. You were too, feeling so full of him, getting an extra serving of his cum :) was your favorite thing to do.

You smiled as the couple looked on in horror. Billy pulled out just the last second before, and came all over your face. “Look so pretty with my cum all over your face, sweet girl. Clean it up f’me, yeah?” You nod.

After you wipe it off, Billy steps back in front of the two victims. “See how nicely I treat my girl? I’m her daddy, after all. Just wanted to show her to you. She’s mine, forever will be. What a nice show the two of you got,” he chuckles, before stabbing one of them, the screams could be heard from down the block.

Billy finished off the other one, not before giving her a good slap and punch. <3 The pool of blood covers the entire kitchen tiling, making it seem red everywhere. It’s on your shoes, on Billy’s. He takes his mask off, and picks you up in his arms.

“Did so good f’me today, sweet girl. So proud of you,” he praises you. “You did good too, Billy. I love how rough you are with them.” He smiles again, giving you a tender kiss. “Let’s leave, huh? Go back home, watch a scary movie?,” he asks. You nod, staying still in his arms as he carries you over the blood, and back out to the woods.

The two of you make it back to the van. They won’t catch you. As long as you’re together, everything was just fine.

[baby-iloveyou]

you could be a hand model

pairing: boo seungkwan from seventeen x afab!reader (gender not specified) genre: smut warnings: reader has a hand kink, fingering, slight brat!sk and very slight brat!reader, relationship between seungkwan and reader isn't really established but i wrote with roommates or friends in mind, use of petnames (baby), swearing, lowercase intentional summary: sometimes you need a break from studying. and sometimes you suddenly notice that seungkwan has very nice hands. and sometimes you really want those hands to touch you. word count: 2.2K writer notes: guys i can't take it anymore i need seungkwan so fucking much you really do not understand this is incredibly self-indulgent but i cannot care less he is SO HOT I NEED HIM AND HIS HANDS ON ME IN ME AHHH 

today was a regular thursday afternoon for you and seungkwan: sitting at home on your bed, studying with your shared playlist playing on the bluetooth speaker in front of you, once in a while complaining about how annoying the lecturer is of the one course you both follow.

"jesus, i need a break", you sighed after rewatching the same clip of your lecturer five times. "still not grasping the concept?" seungkwan looked up at you with a bit of worry on his face. "nope. professor fuckface over here can explain as well as a piece of bread that has fallen onto the floor and is covered in hairs and dust" you exclaimed - it didn't make any sense, but neither did the content of whatever your professor was trying to explain.

"i already offered my help but the offer still stands, you know?" seungkwan looked at you, slightly scooting over to your direction. you exhale loudly, rolling your eyes before looking at him. "i know, and i might have to take up that offer. but first i really want a break."

you put your laptop and notebook on the table, next to where the bluetooth speaker is standing, and sit at the edge of the bed. your hands are on your face, pose full of despair, before leaning back to lie down on the bed, hands still covering your face. seungkwan also puts his study materials away and also lies down next to you, with less despair - his hands rest folded on his stomach.

"uncover your face, y/n" seungkwan turned his head to you, waiting to see your face. a beat passed. no movement. "y/n, come on, it's fine" he tried once more, in the hopes you would remove your hands from your face. "i kinda like the darkness right now kwan: it looks a bit like my grade for this stupid course" you replied. seungkwan sighed, and sat upright to start prying your hands off your face. you finally opened your eyes and met eyes with seungkwan. you tried to cover your face again with your hands, but seungkwan held them down so you couldn't do so. "come on y/n, you're exaggerating."

you looked at your hands, pathetically stuck underneath his hands. you never really looked at his hands in detail - because why would you? that would've been weird - but they were very pretty. his fingers were long and slender, and they looked very well cared for. his nails were trimmed, no dirt underneath them, there were no signs of nail biting, and you could see his veins slightly pop out underneath his skin.

although your hands were stuck underneath his, you managed to grab his wrists, and direct his hands to your face - covering your eyes and face now with his hands. "if you don't allow me to cover my face with my own hands, this works for me too" you said, closing your eyes again now that seungkwan's hands were covering your face.

why did his hands smell good? did he use some lotion that just smelled really good? it would explain why they were so soft, lying there on your face, and he seemed like he took good care of his hands.

seungkwan pulled his hands slightly away from your face, one of his hands softly pinching your cheek as if you were a baby, "no y/n, i won't cover your face, just help you with understanding, understood?" his face scrunched up and he winked, as he smiled at you. you once again rolled your eyes at his face pinching, and sat up as well to be on the same level as him again.

"you know, you have good potential to become a hand model" you told seungkwan, whose eyebrows scrunched together, looking at you confused. "where did this thought come from? all of a sudden?" he turned his head, lost on why you suddenly brought this up. "i mean, your hands look very nice, they're really pretty, and you seem to take good care of them! so i just think you could be a hand model" you shrugged, directing your view at his hands first, and at his eyes again afterwards.

"well thank y-" seungkwan could not finish his sentence, as you accidentally interrupted him with "they also smell really nice". you realised what you said, and the both of you started laughing. "did you sniff my hands? do you have a hand kink or something, where is this coming from??" seungkwan said, while laughing at the situation.

oh, maybe that is why you suddenly felt such a strong urge to feel those fingers inside of you.

the thought of you having a hand kink never really crossed your mind, but the more you thought about it, the more it seemed like he was right. "w-what? no!" you giggled, hoping to play it off convincingly. you pulled your legs up from the side of the bed, to sit cross-legged, body facing the man now in front of you.

unfortunately, the thing about seungkwan is that he is very observant. and he was painfully aware that you were not being honest with him.

"mhm, so then what's the flushed face about?" he now turned his entire body your way, so he had an even clearer view on you and your antics. you could see, no, feel, his eyes looking you up and down, a small smirk appearing on his face, as he softly raised one of his eyebrows.

your stomach started to go wild now, as boo seungkwan stared you down as if he was about to win first place in a staring competition. you tried to think of a witty comeback to his hand kink comment, but the more you thought about his hands, the more you wished they would be roaming your body right now, pulling down your pants, fingering you on this exact bed.

"i guess y/n has a hand kink~ how fun!" he licked his lips, and held up one of his hands in front of you. his hand slowly reached down to your hands, grabbing them and resting his hands on top of yours in between the two of you. your eyes rested on the way he held onto your hands, the way his veins popped out a bit more than before.

"i swear, the next time i find out about one of your kinks, you don't get to hear the end of it, boo!" you laughed and sighed, trying to distract yourself from how much just his hands were doing to you. seungkwan was very much enjoying your suffering.

"you'll never figure them out though, we both know you're very blind to things sometimes" he winked and smized at you. okay, that was true. you just wanted to say something so the thought of clenching around his fingers would go away-

"any thoughts on your mind right now? about my pretty hands?" you were about to give up on hiding, and just give in - he had you wrapped around his finger. there was no way you could go back to the time before those thoughts entered your brain-

"i did offer my help, i told you right?" and that broke you. you pulled your hands out of his hold and put them on his shoulders to pull him closer to you. one of your hands snaked into his fluffy hair, the other held his cheek so you could kiss him deeply. your lips played with his soft lips, kissing him as if he was your boyfriend and you had not seen him in two years.

you quickly managed to insert your tongue into his mouth, to which he responded very well. a bit too well. as you gasped for air, you whispered "not only have pretty hands, but you kiss really well, boo". your noses were still touching as you both took deep breaths. "i've been practising in my head" seungkwan exhaled. "i've been wanting to kiss you for so long already." you are taken aback, and slightly pull away. "wait, really? i never knew-" "didn't we just discuss how dense you sometimes are, y/n?" you both giggle shortly, before meeting eyes again and seeing the hunger within each others eyes.

your lips crash back onto each other, your hands now both in seungkwan's hair, his hands on the small of your back and at your neck. another breath of air: "jesus, you taste so good, so much better than anything i could imagine." you chuckle, "wait until you get to taste the other parts of me."

"what if i don't wait?"

if his words were setting your lower area ablaze earlier, this sentence had completely burnt down your cunt. you could feel yourself getting so incredibly wet, and with the thought of seungkwan not only fingering you like you imagined moments earlier, but also licking his fingers after he had touched you was sending you over the edge.

you placed a quick kiss on his lips, before speaking up. "please finger me." seungkwan bit his lip, happy to hear you speak the words he thought about ever since you made comments about his hands. you were not the only one with dirty thoughts, it seemed - seungkwan had his fair share of scenarios playing in his head.

his hands reached to your shorts, pulling them down slowly, together with your underwear. the cold air was now hitting your pussy, making you inhale. your eyes darted to his, and you were happy you did, but also jesus. his eyes had gone completely dark, he was about to go feral, his tongue was hanging out slightly, his mouth formed into a slight smirk. fuck, he is so incredibly hot.

his hands first traced your stomach, then stroked over your legs, and finally hovered over your dripping cunt. you were clenching around absolutely nothing, trying to thrust into something, only to be met with the cold air in your room.

"finger you, you said?" seungkwan cocked up an eyebrow. "yes, god, plea-" you couldn't finish your sentence, as he cupped your pussy, and had found your clit, now playing with it slowly while licking his lips. "what do i get out of this?" you huffed, both because of the stimulation as well as because of his question. "obviously the privilege to finger - oh my god - finger me" you moaned. your eyes kept opening and closing.

"okay, but other than that privilege? i have something in mind, if you want to hear it." you licked your lips, still sighing from the way he was touching you. "wh-what is it?"

"it's actually two things."

"well, go on then, as - oh fuck that's, that's good keep going - as long as you finger me now."

"well, the first thing..." seungkwan said, as he inserted his index finger into your sopping cunt, "is that you suck my dick after i've fingered you."

your brain knew these were all words you knew, and the offer sounded good for what you got from it. but currently you were simply in bliss from seungkwan finally inserting one of his slender, beautiful fingers into you.

"sure, whatever, can do-"

"the other one is...", he inserted another finger, "we go on a proper date sometime after this."

your brain actually processed this but you were in no capability to respond properly, as seungkwan had already started moving his fingers in and out, curling them, scissoring them.

and he felt so incredibly good inside of you. as if his stupid veiny thin slender long hands were made just to finger you.

"ahh, oh my god! ye-yes that sou-sounds good! god that feels so good too!" your moans got louder and louder as he kept fingering you. "you were- you were right seungkwan, ah fuck, i do have a hand kink". he grinned at your observation.

"maybe i have a 'y/n' kink. i'm already obsessed with you."

he kept curling his fingers, twisting them, hitting the perfect spots. his fingers were just the perfect length to hit your most sensitive spot when he curled them up. your moans and grunts turned into saying his name quite a few times now, followed by a "god i'm so close".

"seungkwan, i think - oh fuck - i think i'm gonna cum!"

the way his fingers just so perfectly filled you up. the way you kept clenching around his fingers. the way he was talking to you and looking at you.

he sped up the curling of his fingers, hitting your g-spot even more often, and on top of that added his other hand to toy with your clit now. that was the max.

"cum for me baby, i want to taste you so badly."

you clenched hard around his fingers, cumming on his hand. you could feel a little bit of cum touch your inner thigh as he removed his hands from your vagina.

seungkwan looked you straight in the eyes. brought his hand up to eye level. brought it to his mouth. licked your essence straight off his fingers. hummed.

"if that's how you always react to my hands and me fingering you, i want to do this every single day."

he licked his hands completely clean, leaned forward to kiss you, so you could still taste yourself on his tongue, and sat back again.

"so, do i get my part of the deal now?"

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

Open Mic Night

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary:  Soldier Boy and the reader go to a bar on a double date with Hughie and Annie. This takes place beyond season three in alternate universe. Reader is a supe.  (I'm so bad at summaries, please forgive me!)

Tropes: Fluff, Age Difference, Protective Ben/ Soldier Boy, Established Relationship

Word Count: 3.9K

Warnings: I'm going to label this 18+ just to be sure because this fic contains dude being super creepy and sleazy, swearing, mentions of sex, sexual innuendo, references to past sex, and Soldier Boy. Ben/Soldier Boy might be a little bit OOC.

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. This is my first time writing for Soldier Boy, so please be gentle. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person.

Masterlist

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

Music swung low and heavy over the crowded bar from the band on the stage that dominated the central wall of the building. Speakers stood like stoic watchmen, thumping and blasting the haunting music on each side of the stage. Spotlights stung the air, spewing colors of orange, yellow, and green onto the figures that writhed on stage.

It was open mic night. That much was inferred from the collection of mismatched people swarming the edge of the stage where a bouncer stood holding a black clip board.

Each one pushed and shoved, trying to shout over the death march ballad flowing from the lead singers mouth and threatening one another with musical instruments clutched in their hands.

The song is an odd choice. You thought to yourself noting the outfit of the lead singer. He was wearing a bright red and yellow pinstriped suit that clashed with bright pink hair that fell past his waist and was braided away from his face.

How does it not get caught in his guitar?

You were still standing just inside the doorway, staring beyond Hughie to watch the lead singer gyrate and writhe against the standing microphone.

You glance over at Ben. He’s hovering by your right elbow, mouth turned down in disgust, but even frowning he looks just as handsome as ever. His dark hair lies in soft waves over his brow, he trimmed his beard so that it’s more of a dusting over his cheeks and chin, he’s wearing a black t-shirt that makes his eyes a dangerous bright green and a pair of jeans slung low on his hips. Even without his suit he looks flawless, every bit the hero that people believed him to be.

“I don’t understand music nowadays.” Ben continues to stare at the lead singer. "It used to make sense."

“Isn’t he talented?” You laugh elbowing Ben in the side. “Aren’t you glad we let Annie pick the place?”

“I definitely am.” Hughie responds. “I think my life has been enriched by watching that man hump the microphone.”

“Oh definitely.” Annie adds.

“Do you think he’d sign my butt?” You ask enthusiastically. “I carry a sharpie with me at all times just for this possibility.”

“Y/n-“ Annie snorts.

“What?” Ben snaps, turning to look down at you. His eyes are narrowed in jealousy and confusion.

“I’m only kidding Gramps.” Your hand entwines with his. “You’re the only one who gets to see it.”

He doesn’t look pleased, but the nickname you assigned him when you first met often makes him angry.

"Don't fucking call me that." Ben mutters.

“You know you love it.” You whisper back.

“Ew. So don’t need that image-“ Hughie makes a face.

“I don’t need to hear it from you. When we all lived in that safe house and you and Annie had ‘alone time’ I wanted to wash my ears out with soap. Y’all could at least have gone to a room on the other side of the apartment, not to mention Annie took out the power every time.”

“You have super hearing Y/n.” Annie’s face flushes. “And you and Ben weren't exactly quiet either.”

"I won't apologize for that." You shrug.

Someone comes in the double doors behind you and jostles past you. You stumble into Ben’s chest, who steadies you with a hand on your waist. The man doesn't turn around to apologize, instead he continues to walk towards the giant wooden bar on the left side of the room.

You ignore the urge to haul him back by the back of the shirt and make him apologize and one look up at Ben lets you know that he's thinking the exact same thing.

Ben watches the man’s retreating figure murderously and opens his mouth, but before he yells something, you squeeze his hand. Ben's gaze drops to you, anger burning behind his green eyes.

“It’s okay. It’s busy and there’s a lot of people. It happens.” You whisper trying to bring him some comfort.

He wasn’t exactly thrilled about the double date. It wasn’t that he hated Hughie or Annie, you think it was because after a long day he’d rather spend time with you than keep up appearances. When Annie suggested it, it had seemed like a good idea but now standing here in the overcrowded bar it was overwhelming. Ben and you had been on dates just the two of you in a bar before, but it wasn’t nearly as loud or as crowded as this one. You spent the night in one of the quiet booths in the corner, his arm wrapped around you while you listened to the music coming from the juke box, music that Ben actually recognized. Sometimes you think he liked quiet restaurants more, where he could breathe, and relax in a booth next to you. You think being around too many people activated his PTSD.

Ben frowns, but tightens his hand on your hip.

Sometimes you thought that you being there helped. As much as Ben didn't like to admit his feelings, you noticed that his actions spoke more. The way that he let you hold on to his arm or the way that his hand often drifted to your waist when in public made you believe that Ben did depend on having you with him. Plus he never seemed to want to let you go out of the apartment alone. Even with something as mundane as grocery shopping, Ben would come with you. And despite him sighing each time you walked down an aisle and complaining under his breath, Ben wouldn't stay at the apartment when you told him to.

Plus there were the mornings when you woke up before him and noticed how he pulled you to him in his sleep or the mornings when he woke up first and didn’t push you away, instead he liked having your head on his chest watching your gentle breath.

However, the look in his eyes as he gazed around the room at the crowd was not calm or collected, it was bordering on manic. He looked almost like he wanted to pick you up and move you to the corner, caging you in and fighting off anybody who tried to get close to you.

“Hey we are going to go get drinks. Why don’t you guys find us a place to sit?” You say to Annie.

Maybe I need to talk to him alone.

“Sure.” She doesn’t sense Ben’s discomfort and pulls Hughie in the direction of an empty booth that lines the wall opposite the bar.

You gently lead Ben through the crowds, past the bar to a small alcove where the restrooms are.

“Are you okay?” You ask.

“Yeah?" Ben raises his eyebrow and you can imagine his thoughts.

Probably revolving around the idea that he's not a pussy and that he's not afraid of anything.

Sometimes you hated that Ben was so guarded and that his usual emotions circled around borderline toxic masculinity, annoyance, and anger. Well, until you started dating. At the beginning Ben had been nicer to you than anyone else, which meant those three emotions appeared less when you were around. But now, you were slowly coaxing him out of his tough exterior to get him to open up more, difficult, but not impossible.

You knew it was only a matter of time until he opened up more to you. In the few months you had been dating he was already doing better than when you first met- when there was a constant parade of women through the apartment and he tried his upmost to get in your pants. 

“Because if you’re not we can leave right now. I can tell Annie that I’m having bad cramps or something and we can go home. Get a pizza delivered or something? Watch one of your old films?” You look into his face, trying to read his expression, but Ben has mastered the art of hiding his emotions. An infuriating skill, because you prided yourself on being able to read people.

“I’m fine.”

“Ben-“

“I promise I’m fucking fine.” He snaps.  His broad figure blocks the view of the singer on stage who has begun to gyrate again.

You hoped the song would be over soon. 

Despite his tone, it didn't make you angry. You knew that he tended to slip into annoyance when he was afraid to tell you what he really thought.

He doesn’t look fine. His eyebrows are pulled down low over his eyes and his mouth is turned down in a frown.

“I’m serious. I won’t be mad if you just want to go home, just the two of us. Being out is supposed to be fun and if you’re not having fun-“

“I swear I’m having as much fucking fun as I can listening to terrible music.” He doesn’t smile.

You release his hand and your fingertips raise to brush back some of his dark locks that have fallen into his eyes. “I just don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I love you-“

 He sighs leaning into your touch.

“I know you think that you have to do this for me, but I’m okay with just going. I know you don’t like crowds or people.” You smile at him, putting as much love and comfort as you can into your tone.

“I’m okay y/n.”

You search his gaze for the lie, trying to uncover how he feels, but you find nothing. “Okay.”

You arch upwards to kiss him hoping that it will relieve some of the tension he was holding in his muscular shoulders.

To say it works is an understatement. As soon as your lips touch his, he backs you against the wall and continues to kiss you feverishly, his hand finding your waist.

I guess that’s one way to channel all that nervous energy.

Ben’s hand begins to sweep lower along your back to grab your butt and bring your leg up over his hip, holding you up against him so you don't have to stretch as far to kiss him. It makes you smile into his mouth, knowing that he was doing that for you, that he cared enough to make sure you were comfortable.

“Ben-“ You breathe.

“What?” He smirks at you. “Didn’t you want me to have a good time?”

“Well yes but-“

“You aren’t having a good time?”

“Ben-"

“No? I think I can make you have a good time, a few times before Hughie and Annie notice we're gone.” He begins to nudge you backward in the direction of the bathroom.

“No.” You giggle pushing against his muscular chest, but he doesn’t move.

“Come on doll. Don’t you want me to enjoy myself?” Ben pouts, before bringing his lips down to your ear. "I definitely think you'd enjoy yourself." A shiver travels down your spine. "That's my girl." He smirks, as he begins to kiss your neck again.

“Ben, I do want you to enjoy yourself, but I also don't want to have a good time in the bathroom at a bar.”

“Didn’t stop us last time.” He arches a brow.

“That was much cleaner and we weren’t at a bar with two of our friends.”

Ben frowns at you.

“How about you get me a little drunk, we dance for a bit, and then you get to take me home.” You press a kiss just under his ear, tangling your hands in his hair.

“Or we go into the bathroom for 10 minutes then you get me drunk enough to dance and then you get to take me home.” His hand tightens just under your thigh, rubbing his thumb against your soft jeans.

“Ben.”

“You know you want to.” He grins wolfishly. “Have I told you how sexy you look?”

He didn’t have to say it. You were wearing a green top that showed a little more cleavage than usual and your best pair of jeans that hugged your curves. The same pair of jeans that usually made Ben handsy. You had also spent an inordinate amount of time curling your hair before you left the apartment. Plus the green was exactly the same color as his suit, something that Ben loved was when you wore his color or his clothes.

“You have, several times. And I do, but please I don’t want to when our friends are out there waiting for us.”

He sighs, knowing that he’s lost. “Fine.”

Ben reluctantly lowers your legs to the ground, but you kiss him gently on the mouth to kiss away the frown that replaces the seductive smirk he had moments ago.

“Go on. I’m going to go to the bathroom.” He steps around you.

“What?”

“I have to take a piss. Go on get the drinks. I’m gonna need a lot of them to get through that fucking music.”

“Beer?”

“Beer and a whiskey.” Ben winks as he closes the door behind him.

You take in a deep breath to cool down from whatever almost happened, but you saw your ability to say no as a personal victory. Ben was usually able to coax you into doing whatever he wanted.

You hate how easily he won.

You begin the slow trek back to the bar, weaving in and out of the people trying to get closer to the stage or just dancing along to the music. The previous band was gone, replaced by a man wearing a fedora and playing a saxophone. The melody was smooth, and reminded you of what you father used to listen to on long days after work.

Ben would like this song. You think to yourself. You suddenly wished that he was here so he could hold you and sway along to the music, but you knew that getting drinks was equally important.

It would probably take at least two glasses of whiskey to get him out on the dance floor.

You maneuver yourself between two people sitting on stools to talk directly to the bartender. “Hey can I get four bottles of beer and a whiskey.”

“What kind?” The bartender is a blonde girl, pretty, only a few years older than you, dressed in an electric green top and mini skirt.

“Do you have anything that’s really old?” You never got what kind of whiskey Ben liked, just that he often complained that the older stuff was better.

It was a common opinion he voiced.

“Yeah but it’s pricy.” She shrugs

“That’s fine.” You pull Ben’s debit card out of your pocket.

You thought it was weird to use his card, but he kept telling you to even though you didn’t have a shared bank account. One time you tried to pay him back, but he wouldn’t let you and said that it was the man's job to pay for everything.

Another time you tried to pay for dinner and he told you not to worry. But you still felt guilty.

Sometimes you felt like a sugar baby. Given the age difference, it was closer to reality than you would have liked.

You were living together, well, Ben lived in your apartment. He kept talking about moving to a nicer apartment and as much as you wanted to, one day you found him looking at apartments that were worth more than seven times the monthly rent that you were paying currently.

You were going to see one in a few days, but you still hadn’t admitted to him that you didn’t think you could afford it. The only thing that stopped you was how excited he got about going, about moving in officially together in a new apartment that you didn't want to say no. Seeing him excited about something so domestic warmed your heart.

You didn’t know how much money he had, you just knew it was more than you given the fact that he was such a big hero and that he used to be in movies.

You hadn’t had a solid job since you started working for Butcher, who would give you some money under the table but who knows where he got that. You had some money that you inherited from your parents when they died, but other than that, nothing. An unwelcome thought, given the indestructible nature of your powers, which meant there was the possibility you would live forever.

I’m gonna have to start budgeting better.

The bartender turns to look for the drinks, while you lean forward on the bar, closing your eyes to listen to the smooth jazz that floats over the crowd.

Someone’s hand slides down your back and grips your butt.

You snort, not opening your eyes. “Ben I thought I told you-“ You turn around to look at who you thought was Ben, but freeze when you realize it’s the pink haired singer from before.

“Hey baby.” The man smiles tightening his grip on your butt. “I saw you admiring me, thought I’d come say hello.”

“Um. Yeah. That didn’t happen, now can you please take your hand off my ass?” You ask forcing your voice into a cool collected tone.

“I think it did.” He doesn’t remove it, in fact he moves further into you, to pin you against the bar. “Did you like my song?”

“No.”

One word answers usually were a good way of telling people that you weren’t interested, but this man didn't seem to understand that.

“Aww that’s too bad. I’ve got a few others that I can show you. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing here all alone?”

“We’ll see that’s the thing. I’m not alone and I’m going to ask you nicely one more time to fuck off before I break your arm.”

“A little thing like you do that? Come on baby let’s be serious.”

By now every time he said little your eye twitched aggressively. You did a good job of pretending you weren't a supe on your days off. You hid really well in a crowd, a skill that helped you evade Homelander and Vought more than once. Of course it had its annoyances as well. Case and point.

“Trust me. Me breaking your arm is much better than the alternative.”

I should get rid of him before Ben gets out here. That will definitely not end well if he sees this guy.

“What’s the alternative?” He oozes moving so close to your face that you can smell the stale alcohol on his breath.

“Well-“

The man is snapped upwards away from you and into the air.

Ben looks murderous. His usually bright green eyes have hardened into an emerald, his smile turned into a snarl. He’s holding the man by the front of his brightly striped suit, two feet off the ground, so close that Ben’s nose is almost brushing his.

“The alternative-“ Ben’s voice is a growl. “Is that I break your fucking face for touching my girlfriend.”

Why does he look so hot when he’s angry? You sigh to yourself, admiring the way his muscles tense under his black t-shirt as he holds the guy and how the shirt pulls up just enough for you to see the top of his hip where his low hanging blue jeans have fallen.

There’s something wrong with me.

“Whoa man I’m sorry I didn’t know she was yours.” The man stutters, holding on to Ben’s wrists where he still holds him in the air.

Ben is easily a foot taller than him and broader by a mile. Gazing down at him with enough hatred to make the hair on the back of your neck stand up.

As much as you liked Ben like this, you knew you had to do something before Ben killed him. Because as much as he deserved a good beating, the man didn’t deserve to die.

“Ben put him down.” You say.

“No.”

“Ben please.” You put your hand on his muscular shoulder, feeling the heat of his skin beneath the palm of your hand. “It’s not worth it. He’s not worth it.”

“But you are-“ His teeth are gritted together when he looks at you, green eyes blazing in fury. “He shouldn’t have touched you.”

“No he shouldn’t. But he doesn’t deserve to lose his life just because he felt up the wrong person in a bar.”

Ben’s jaw is locked together, nostrils flaring, but even you know that somewhere deep down he knows you're right. He turns his head to look back at the man. “You’re lucky that she’s more forgiving than I am.” Ben drops the man, who lands in a lump on the floor and turns to look at you.

Ben doesn’t look happy, but he still  takes your hand, preparing to shuffle you towards where Annie and Hughie are watching in horror.

But before Ben can say anything the man on the ground rolls to his feet, more gracefully than you would have guessed and lunges at Ben a small knife gripped in his left hand.

He really doesn’t know when to quit.

Although you know that a small knife will do little to Ben other than piss him off, you react. Before he can reach Ben, your free hand flashes out, fastening around the man's left wrist and you pull his arm behind him at an unnatural angle. His arm jolts, the sharp snap of bone overshadows the jazz music, and the man falls to the ground clutching his ruined arm to his chest with a broken cry. All of this happens within five seconds, too fast for a normal person to see.

“Told you I would break your arm.” You say, pulling Ben away before he can do anything worse to him.

“What happened?” Annie asks eyes wide.

“Total jerk at the bar. I ordered drinks but I think it’ll be better if Ben and I leave.” You glance over at the bartender who is talking to the bouncer and gesturing over at you and Ben. “I already paid so y’all enjoy yourselves.”

“Wait y/n we’ll come with you-“ Hughie says. His arm is draped around Annie’s shoulders where they sit in the booth. You think about letting them come with you, but they look so comfortable and they should enjoy their day off.

“No it’s okay.” You squeeze Ben’s hand. “I’m kinda wiped from today anyway.”

“Are you sure?” Annie asks.

“Yeah.” You nod once, before smiling wide at Annie and Hughie. “Let me know if you find the next Billy Joel.”

“There can only be one!” Hughie shouts as Ben and you weave through the bar goers to avoid the bouncer.

When you finally get outside and start towards home, Ben finally speaks.

“We didn’t have to leave.” He’s still holding your hand tightly, but you can feel the heat of his anger stirring beneath the skin.

“Yes we did. The bouncer was coming.” You stop walking and turn to look up at him. “Plus. I thought it was incredibly hot that you went all Soldier Boy on that guy’s ass to defend my honor.” Your hand drags against his muscular chest, mouth turning up in a sexy smile.

“Oh did you? Because here I thought that you were angry. And that you were going to yell at me for not letting you handle it.” He tugs you forward so that your chests are pressed against one another.

“Nope. Why do you think we had to leave? I want to get you home asap.”

He runs his free hand through your hair, fastening it behind your head, to pull you against him for a searing kiss. “You know, I also thought it was pretty hot when you broke that guy's arm.” Ben whispers against your lips.

“Wouldn’t have expected anything less. Now let’s go home so I can thank you properly.”

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

Thank you for reading!

If you liked this fic, be sure to try out my series You Call It Madness But I Call It Love!

[megxplryxb]

How Can it be Over When it Never Really Started?

Pairings: Colby Brock x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Slight mention of smut, Kat and Sam's break up is discussed (no sides taken), No mentions of y/n

Notes: I haven't written for Colby in over a year so please be kind, I know i'm a little rusty.

The Las Vegas air was hot and sticky as you reluctantly opened the car door, removing yourself from the refreshing air conditioning of your BMW. The car locked with a beep as you tossed your keys into your handbag, rummaging around for a clip to tie your hair back, already feeling uncomfortable in the warmth of the desert. Dry gravel crunched under your converse, the hot sun already kissing your skin as you approached the entrance of an all too familiar house.

Everything looked as it did the last time you’d been here. The overgrown bushes at the side of the house still needing to be trimmed, the walls still screaming for a fresh coat of paint and the lights you’d all hung up for Christmas still dangling from the trees in the yard. But while things looked the same, the feeling was completely different. It was strange, quiet and sad. Any other time before today, you’d have walked in, skipping through the house, singing and dancing, looking for Katrina, but she didn’t live here anymore and that’s exactly the reason why you were here now.

Kat and Sam had broken up three weeks ago, ending their seven plus year relationship which came as a shock to many. While it was mostly amicable, she just couldn’t bring herself to return to the house she had shared with her ex boyfriend to pick up the last of her things. So instead, you had volunteered to go, wanting to make things as easy as possible for her.

It had been a rough couple of weeks for your best friend, the break up hitting her hard and she'd never felt more alone. Kat had been staying with a friend for the last couple of weeks, tying up some loose ends before she left Vegas in the rear view mirror once and for all. You arrived yesterday, driving to Sin City to help with her move back to LA, knowing that she needed you now more than ever. Break ups were never easy and you wanted her to know she didn't have to go through this alone.

Taking a deep breath in, you pressed the ring doorbell, stomach in knots as you waited patiently for a response. Sam knew you were coming, you’d organised it with him yesterday to make sure it was ok, not wanting to completely blindside him upon your arrival. Of course he didn't mind. It hadn't been easy for him either and you were sure he was just as heartbroken as Kat.

“Hey, I’ll be right down.” You heard a familiar voice say through the speaker, your eyes widening upon the realisation that it wasn't Sam. Fuck.

“Oh hey, yeah cool, take your time.” You reply, moving back from the door, tugging at your bottom lip nervously, a sudden feeling of uneasiness creeping up on you.

There was a slight shuffle on the other side of the door before it opened and you were met not by Sam but by his best friend Colby, who you'd slept with two months ago.

“Hey stranger, long time no see." He smiles, pulling you in for a hug, wrapping himself around you. His scent was intoxicating, warm and comforting and you hated how much you had missed being in his arms.

“Hi.” You blush, reluctantly pulling away from him, avoiding his gaze until he closed the door behind you.

“You could have just walked in y’know, like you always do.” He teases as you shake your head, shrugging. “I didn’t really know what to do honestly, I guess it’s just kind of weird now that Kat’s gone.”

“Hey, you know you’re always welcome here, right? That’s never gonna change.” Colby states but you’re not sure even he believes that. You’ve seen how break ups go, how it damages not just the couple but the friends involved too.

“How is Kat? I texted her a couple of times but she hasn’t really been responding.” He frowns, biting his bottom lip. You could see the sadness in his eyes, he was hurting too. You all were.

“She’s doing ok. I mean, she’s devastated obviously but she’ll get there, it’s just going to take some time.”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine what they’re both going through right now. Sam is so quiet, he’s not really talking about it much.”

“Where is he anyway?” You look around, noticing the place was oddly quiet.

“He kind of chickened out last minute. I think he was afraid you were going to murder him, so he went for a run.” He jokes but you know he’s also kind of serious.

“Why would I do that? I mean, he just broke my best friend’s heart, it’s no big deal.” You reply sarcastically.

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I kind of want to kick his ass too.” The black haired boy smiles and you can’t help but notice how utterly beautiful he looks right now.

“He knows I don’t hate him, right? Like, I wish I did because it would make things a hell of a lot easier but, at least he was honest y’know? He didn’t string her along or cheat on her. I’m just sad it didn’t work out for them.” You admit, holding back your tears.

“I know, I am too, it fucking sucks.” Colby sighs, throwing an arm around you, trying to pull you closer to him but he feels how reluctant you are to lean into him.

“I better get this stuff packed into my car. We’re heading back to LA in the morning.” You say as Colby nods his head, the corner of his lips turning downwards, leading you to the kitchen where Katrina’s things are laid out on the dinning table. There’s not too much left, just some clothes and shoes, bits of make up and unopened post and a framed picture of you all at the beach from last summer when Sam and Kat were still happy and you and Colby hadn’t blurred the lines of your friendship.

“That was a good day.” Colby chuckles from behind you. His hot breath hitting the back of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Yeah it was. They looked so in love here.” You frown, running your fingers over the picture.

“They were.” Colby agrees, holding the other side of the frame. “You looked so beautiful that day.” He whispers, causing you to shake your head.

“Yeah right.” You laugh, rejecting his compliment.

“I’m serious. Shit, I remember seeing you in that bikini for the first time too. All of the guys were looking at you and that douche bag asked for your number, remember?” He quizzed, causing you to chuckle. You remember it like it was yesterday, the guy strutting towards you while you sunbathed with Kat. He’d been so cocky, certain he was leaving with your number until you ran to Colby, kissing his cheek. Pleading with him to go with it and pretend to be your boyfriend. He did it without a second thought, arms draped over your body, nuzzled into your neck, placing little kisses on your shoulder until the guy got the hint and left you alone.

“Of course I remember, you wanted to kill that guy.” You tease, turning to face Colby who looks at the picture once more. “Yeah, I did. Fuck, I was so jealous.” He curses as you furrow your brows, a little surprised by his admission.

“Why?” You ask, your breath hitching as he takes the frame from your hands, placing it on the table.

“You know why.” He insists, his lips hovering over your own, backing you into the table as your heart fluttered.

There had always been something between you and Colby, an unspoken attraction that neither of you dared to explore until two months ago. The timing for anything other than a friendship had never been quite right, one or both you seeing other people. But he had always been flirty with you, sharing subtle touches or glances when no one else was looking and for the longest time, that had been it. That was until New Years Eve, at a house party hosted by Jake and Tara. Colby had been by your side all night, getting your drinks, laughing and dancing and when the clock struck midnight his lips were immediately on yours, like he’d been waiting an eternity to kiss you. It only took you a moment to kiss him back, his hands finding a home on your hips as you wrapped your arms around his neck, ignoring all the whistles around you, your friends screaming that it was about damn time.

Not long after, you arrived back at the house, the kiss not being enough for either one of you, both of you needing more urgently. Colby had quickly dragged you upstairs, undressing each other before you even reached his bedroom, lips never parting as he pressed you into his mattress. It wasn't what you thought it would be like, it was slow and sweet and Colby took his time with you, afraid he'd only get one chance at this. The next morning you awoke in his arms, limbs still tangled under the sheets until you managed to wiggle your way out without waking him, leaving before you had to have an awkward conversation about the night before.

"Colby, I can't do this right now." You sigh, shaking off your thoughts as you move away from him again.

“Do what?” He asks, raising a brow.

“Do this, whatever this is..” you state as he lets out a deep breath.

“Are we ever gonna talk about it?” He questions, folding his tattooed arms across his toned chest.

“What is there to talk about? It was just sex, wasn't it?" You shrug, causing him to scoff and you swear you can see a look of hurt on his face.

“We both know it was more than that.” He states, staring at you, almost begging you to be honest with yourself.

“When has it ever been more than that for you, Colby?” You argue, taking aim at his long list of conquests.

“When it was with you." He answers honestly, leaving you shocked. “That night when we kissed, I thought that was it, you know? That me and you were finally on the same page about us. But when I woke up the next morning you were gone and I never heard from you."

"I wanted to save you the trouble of telling me it was a one time thing." You admitted, lowering your head, embarrassed to look at him right now.

"That's all you thought that was to me? Do you not know me at all?" The boy asks as you let out a nervous laugh.

"Yes, I know you Colby, which is exactly why I left! I've seen your countless one night stands walk out that door the next morning, hoping that you'll call them again and you never do! You just move on to the next one and I'm not judging you, that's who you are. I just didn't want to be one of those girls that expected more from you." Colby looks at you, shaking his head, a prominent frown on his face as he walks closer to you. This time you don't move, frozen still as he cups your face.

"But that's just it, you're not like those other girls. There's always been something between us, more than a friendship, more than just sex. You make me laugh more than anybody, I don't have to pretend to be someone else when I'm with you. You've seen me at my worst and you got me through it, you Kat and Sam. Baby, I was an idiot for so fucking long, dating people I shouldn't have dated, being friends with people who I didn't even like. But I know what I want now and I want you. I want everything with you." He confesses, as you try to hold back tears.

"Colby, I..."

“What, honey? Tell me what you want?” He asks, his face inches away from yours and you could easily kiss him right now.

You know exactly what you wanted. When it came to Colby Brock, you’ve always known.

You’ve wanted it before he ever put his lips on yours, before you ever let him take you in his bed all those weeks ago and before he ever muttered that you were his as he came deep inside of you for the first time.

You wanted him, all of him but you knew that was something that just wasn't possible right now. Just as you were about to speak, the front door opened and closed with a gentle bang, footsteps approaching the kitchen as you quickly broke apart.

"Hey." Sam spoke, removing his headphones as you placed a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His eyes moved to Colby, who he knew would chew him out for this later.

"Hi." You greeted, moving to give him a hug.

"I'm sorry, I totally just interrupted something didn't I?" The blonde boy questions as you shake your head.

"Yep." Colby nods as you shoot him a look.

"No you didn't, honestly. I was just leaving." You reassure Sam but Colby takes your hand. "Please, don't go, we still have things to talk about."

You bite your lip, eyes focused on Colby as he pleads with you to finish your conversation.

"I really need to pack Kat's stuff."

"Hey, it's ok, I'll take Katrina's things to your car and leave you guys to it." Sam says as you give him a thankful nod. Once he's gone, Colby moves towards you again, his hands finding yours as you look into his ocean blue eyes, trying not to fall deeper than you already have.

"Colby, you know how I feel about you. Jesus, I was never good at hiding it." You joke, earning a small laugh from him as his fingers circle your palm. "But, right now, Sam needs you, like Kat needs me. We can't be together when they're like this, still heartbroken and lost." You state, beginning to choke up.

"Why not?" Colby questions, raising a brow.

"Because if we're together and one of them eventually moves on with someone else, it's going to get messy. They'll fight about it, they'll ask us to take sides and then we'll fight about it and probably break up and both be miserable too! Everything's just too complicated right now, not to mention we'd have to do long distance because I'll be in LA and you'll be here and–" You ramble on as Colby places his forehead on yours.

"It kind of sounds like you've already thought about this a lot." He teases, as you wrap your arms around his waist.

"Being with you, is all I ever think about." You whisper before he captures your lips with his. For a moment, you finally give in to him, melting into his touch as he deepens the kiss, sliding his tongue over your bottom lip before he slides it into your mouth. He swallows a moan from within you, pressing you up against the counter as you grab his shirt, trying to pull him impossibly closer.

"Fuck, you're so beautiful." He groans, placing wet kisses on your neck as you throw your head back. Suddenly, your phone vibrates in your pocket and you know it's Kat checking up on you. You had asked her to call you to make sure you didn't accidentally end up in Colby's bed upon your arrival and you were sure you would have ended up there if not for your best friend saving you at the last minute.

"Colby, shit, it's Kat." You whine as he finally detaches his lips from your skin. Once you told Kat everything was ok and that you were on your way, you hung up, both of you attempting to catch your breath.

"I really have to go." You state as he nods his head, pulling you close once more.

"Look, I know you think things might get complicated but that's only if we let them, right? I want to try and make this work, I want to be with you no matter what happens between them. I've honestly never felt this way about anyone before and I don't want to lose you." He confesses, kissing your hand as your knees almost go from under you.

"I don't want to lose you either." You reveal, a tear sliding down your cheek as he wipes it away.

"So, can we do this? Me and you, like officially?" He asks, grinning like an idiot as you shake your head.

"Slow down Mr. Brock, you haven't even taken me on a proper date yet." You tease as he kisses you again. "Oh, so it's like that huh?"

"Yeah, it's like that." You chuckle.

Well lucky for you I'm coming to LA next week, so how about I take you out then?" He suggests, as you wrap your arms around him.

"If we do this, we take this slow ok? Start with a couple of dates and see how things go?" You suggest as he nods in agreement.

"Sweetheart, we can go as slow as you want, just give me a chance to show you how happy I can make you?" He begs but you already know the answer.

Yeah, Colby Brock was a risk worth taking.

[ereardon]

She Calls Him Daddy [Bob Floyd x Reader]

DILF Bob Floyd

Summary: Coming home from college for winter break, the last thing you expected was to run into your best friend’s father while out shopping for new lingerie to surprise your fuck buddy with. You had always tried to hide your attraction for Mr. Floyd because he was Anna’s father. But all rules are thrown out when Bob invites you over on Christmas Eve while Anna is at her mother’s house. You’ll never be able to look at your friend’s dad the same way ever again.

Pairing: DILF Bob Floyd x Reader 

Warnings: Just pure filth and smut, cursing, age difference, power imbalance 

WC: 6K

Your fingers brushed along the array of pastel lace before you paused, reaching out and selecting a hanger. 

It was perfect. Silky black straps with delicate lace bra cups that led to a sheer lace middle cut high on the hips in a thong. You smiled. Jonah was going to lose his goddamn mind when he saw you in this. 

You turned, instantly colliding with a person who had been right behind you, their back to you, your skimpy bodysuit flying to the floor as you began to fall. But the person you had crashed into reached down instantly, catching you before you absolutely ate shit in the middle of the store floor. 

“Oh my God!” you exclaimed as the man’s hands caught your waist, hauling you to standing. “Thank you!” 

A gasp left your mouth as you looked up. 

“Mr. Floyd.” 

“Y/N.” His voice was deep, sultry. You felt your face flush with embarrassment. He leaned down and retrieved the discarded hanger and black lingerie from the floor. But instead of handing it to you, he held it up and examined it. 

“I’m, uh, buying it for a friend,” you lied. 

Bob Floyd’s blue eyes met yours. His tone was patient, his mouth in a hard line. “Is that so?” he asked. “Not Anna I hope.” 

“No, of course not.” At the mention of Anna, your best friend and Bob Floyd’s daughter, you wanted to crumple into a million pieces. You could never tell her that her father had caught you buying lingerie or that you had literally fallen into his arms like a damsel in distress. 

Even if it made you ache between your legs. Even if a part of you had been crushing on Mr. Floyd since you were sixteen. 

You couldn’t even admit it to yourself that sometimes, when you slept with Jonah, your college fuck buddy, you pictured Bob Floyd’s face when you closed your eyes. Same when you had your vibrator pressed tightly against your clit beneath the covers in the privacy of your dorm single. It was Bob Floyd’s face looming in your mind as you let yourself break apart. 

Bob gripped the hanger tightly. He looked at the bodysuit and then at you. You felt like you could melt from the intensity of his gaze, even if it only lasted a second. “That would look good on you,” he said, voice low and you felt your heart beating erratically in your chest. “But this would look better.” He reached out and pulled a bra and panty set from the next rack over. It was a white bra with sheer demi cups and a matching high-waisted thong with a thick waistband and tiny pearls dotting the band. Clipped onto the hanger was a lace trimmed garter. 

Words escaped you. Your jaw was practically hanging on the ground. 

Bob stepped closer. Somehow, it was just the two of you in the entire store. You realized you never asked why he was in a lingerie and pajama shop, so close to Christmas. Bob leaned one muscular arm against the wall to his left. “Y/N. Do you have a boyfriend?” 

You shook your head. 

His eyes flitted to the black one piece that you had discarded on the rack. “So why are you buying something like that?” he asked. It was almost condescending, the way he said it. “To impress someone?” Bob added after a moment. 

You nodded. “Maybe.” 

Bob frowned. “I don’t like it.” Yes, he had made that very clear. Now for the rest of your life you would avoid black lingerie like the plague simply because you knew Bob Floyd didn’t like it. 

You wanted to please him. It was sickening how badly you wanted his approval. Perhaps because your own father couldn’t care less where you ran off to on any given day and Bob cared deeply where Anna was at all times. He was a good father. A better father than yours. 

Or perhaps it was the way he was looking at you. Like he was trying to memorize you so he could chisel you from marble later. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. 

Bob reached out, brushing your chin with his rough fingertips. You shuddered, need pulsating in your body like a pinball machine. “Don’t be,” he murmured gruffly. “I just don’t like the idea of you getting all dressed up for some boy who doesn’t know how to please you.” 

You couldn’t believe that Bob Floyd of all people was looking at you like this. Like he wanted to rip off your clothes. You thought he saw you as a daughter. As just one of Anna’s little friends. He and his wife had gotten divorced nearly ten years ago. You had long known Bob Floyd as simply Anna’s dad. All of the single mothers at your school went crazy for him, but he didn’t give them a second glance. His focus was on Anna and getting her into a good college. But she had done that. She was at Brown. She was happy. 

So what was he doing now? 

Apparently, he was cornering you in an upscale lingerie boutique two days before Christmas. And the worst part was, you didn’t hate it. You didn’t hate it at all. 

“Y/N,” Bob said. “Wait outside. And here, wear this.” He shrugged off his wool coat, draping it over your shoulders. You drowned in it. He was far taller and larger than you and you felt like a little girl wearing her father’s clothing. “I’ll meet you in a minute.” 

You did as you were told, stepping out of the store and waiting, impatiently, until Bob returned a few minutes later with two store bags in his hands. 

He handed you one and you looked up with shock. “Here.” 

“I, um, I can’t.” 

Bob slid his hands into his pockets. “Then return it if you want,” he replied. “Or you can come over tomorrow night and I can show you what those boys at Yale never could.” 

Your mouth hung open. Was he saying what you thought he was saying? 

Bob smiled, for the first time during your interaction. “Tomorrow, eight o’clock.” And then he was gone, leaving you standing under the striped awning wearing his heavy coat as he disappeared into the snow. 

***

“Isn’t Anna at her mother’s house for Christmas?” 

You shook your head, turning down the hall. “No, she was there for Thanksgiving.” 

“That’s right,” your mom replied, rubbing her hands together mindlessly as she followed behind you. “Are you sure you want to spend Christmas Eve at her dad’s house? What about our annual pie bake off?” 

You sighed, leaning one arm on the wooden door frame to your room. “Mom, please. I’ll be back first thing in the morning, I promise. I never get to see her anymore.” 

“I know sweetheart.” She put her hand on your cheek softly. “Well, have fun and be safe.” 

She closed the door and you rushed over to your closet, sliding it open and pulling out the bag from the lingerie store. With bated breath, you pulled out the neatly wrapped bundle, breaking the cloth tape seal on the tissue paper. 

Inside, just as you had expected, was the white set that Bob Floyd had recommended. Bra, panties, matching garter and thigh highs. 

There was also a small white card. You flipped it open. 

Merry Christmas, Y/N. 

-BF 

You couldn’t help but be disappointed. You thought there would be something else. The invitation was to spend the night, wasn’t it? Or had you somehow misinterpreted what he said? 

But the lingerie sitting perfectly in the box was a different story. That was the nail in the coffin. 

Quickly, you got dressed, zipping your duffle bag shut and bidding goodnight to your parents, promising to text them once you got to Anna’s. 

Your heart was beating erratically in your chest for the fifteen minute drive, and you thought you might spontaneously combust the moment you pulled into the familiar driveway. It was hard to unsee the history of your friendship with Anna outlined everywhere you looked. 

The two of you tanning on the front lawn in the summers. The curb where you hit your head roller skating and had to get five stitches. How many times had you parked your old car in their driveway, waiting for Anna to slide into the passenger seat? How many times had the two of you snuck out of that house late at night for parties, scantily clad and carrying water bottles full of liquor you had pilfered from Mr. Floyd’s office where he kept his alcohol stash? 

You parked the car and leaned back. You were really doing this. You had been thinking about Bob Floyd ever since you were a teenager. Now, you were nineteen. You had slept with other guys. You knew exactly what you were doing. 

Which is how you found yourself with an overnight bag in one hand, knocking on the all-too-familiar wooden front door as snow fell softly around you in clumps. 

The heavy door swung open. Bob Floyd stood wearing a blue cable knit sweater and a pair of ironed trousers, wool socks, his hair combed back neatly, his wire glasses square on his nose. He smiled. Behind him, the house was warm. It practically glowed. “Y/N,” he said softly. 

“Mr. Floyd.” 

“Come in,” he said. It was a demand. He grabbed the overnight bag from your hand seamlessly, leading you through the door, one hand on your back as he guided you into the hallway that opened up to the large living room in the back of the house. “I’ll take your coat.” 

You shrugged out of the Italian wool overcoat and handed it to him, standing in a pair of ivory knee-high boots and a white turtleneck dress that clung tightly to your curves. Bob’s gaze rolled over you slowly. 

“Have a seat,” he said. “Do you want a drink?” 

“What do you have?” 

Bob returned from the hall closet. “Honey, you know better than anyone what I have. Don’t think I didn’t know the two of you were sneaking into my liquor cabinet all those years.” 

You flushed, turning around halfway on the couch to peer over the back at him, mouth agape. Bob chuckled, heading for the kitchen and returning a few seconds later with two glasses and a bottle of chilled champagne. “You knew?” you asked, aghast. 

He sat down on the other end of the couch, pouring a glass of champagne and handing it to you. “Of course I knew,” he said, his voice thick and rumbling. 

Bob poured himself a drink and then leaned back against the couch, one arm stretched out over the back. 

“You think I didn’t watch you and Anna closely?” he added as you took a sip. It fizzed on your tongue and in your throat. “I’m her father, Y/N. It’s my duty to protect her. And you.” 

Protect. The word rang in your head on repeat. Your eyes flicked down to Bob’s hands. So strong and lean, with veins running on the back of his hands toward his sweater-covered arms. You squirmed unintentionally on the couch. 

Bob’s blue eyes were locked on yours. But instead of looking away, you let him in. God, he was beautiful. Jonah and all the other guys you had slept with had nothing compared to Bob Floyd. The small crinkle of skin next to his eyes was the only thing that betrayed his age. He was practically flawless. You weren’t the first person to notice how drop dead gorgeous Bob Floyd was. There were whispers behind Anna’s back. But Bob Floyd didn’t date. And besides, you were twenty years younger than him. What could he possibly want with you? 

“Mr. Floyd,” you said and Bob smirked. 

“Y/N,” he said, deep voice punctuating the air. “You can call me Bob.” 

You shook your head. “It sounds wrong.” 

He reached out a hand, nudging his thumb beneath your chin. “Does it feel wrong?” 

“No.” 

“Good girl.” 

You practically whimpered. Bob’s azure eyes never left yours as he dropped his hand and rubbed his palm over his thigh in his khakis. 

“Did you like my gift?”

You nodded. 

“Are you wearing it now?” 

Another nod. Bob’s eyes grew wider, darker. He shifted in his seat, setting his champagne glass down on the fancy wooden coffee table. 

You crossed your legs, noting that Bob’s gaze followed you as you slowly lifted up one leg, crossing it over the other, adjusting yourself on the sofa a few inches closer to him. 

Bob stood up, running one hand through his hair. He spun around. 

“I can drive you home,” he said, “if you’d like. It’s snowing and it’s late. I realize now I didn’t ask if you wanted to come here.” He shook his head. “If you’re uncomfortable, we just pretend this never happened. You’re still Anna’s best friend, I’m still her father.” 

You stood up, smoothing your dress with your hands and stepping closer. Hesitantly, you reached out, placing one hand on his chest. “I wanted to come.” 

“Are you sure?” 

You nodded. “You do know you’re the hot dad that every girl in our grade had a crush on, right?” You rolled your eyes. “Anna hated it.” 

Bob smirked, one hand coming up and toying with your fingertips pressed against the soft fabric of his sweater. His fingers circled your wrist, tight, and you gasped. “Is that right?” he asked, voice husky. 

“Mmhm.” 

“What about you?” His fingers slipped past your wrist, up the sleeve of your dress, dancing lightly along the thin skin of your forearm. “Do you think of me?” 

“Yes.” It was the truth. You flushed. 

“When do you think of me, darlin?” he rasped. Bob shifted closer so you could feel the heat radiating off of him. 

“When I'm alone,” you admitted softly. “When I touch myself.” 

His fingers slid out from beneath your sleeve and you thought for a brief moment that he was going to turn you away, send you off on your merry way out into the snow with bruised pride and unseen lingerie. 

But instead, Bob mumbled something underneath his breath before his eyes were piercing yours again, his hands finding their way to either side of your neck, tilting your head up toward him.

“Darlin’,” he groaned. “Trying to kill me?” 

“Well you are old,” you murmured, "wouldn't be too difficult." He chuckled. 

“I’m going to kiss you,” he whispered. “If you want to stop, we stop.” 

You nodded, heart pounding wildly in your chest as Bob Floyd leaned down, sliding his mouth against yours, his fingers curling around your neck. You placed your hands on his arms, melting into the kiss. 

Kissing Bob was like unlocking an entirely new facet of sex. His lips were soft, practically caressing yours, and his fingers pressed just deep enough into your neck and the base of your head as his tongue swirled in your mouth. 

To your surprise, Bob groaned, stepping in closer, pressing his body against yours, pinning you against the wall as he towered over you, across you, every inch of your body on fire. 

Bob pulled back, eyes wide, his lower half still pressed against yours, his face and shoulders leaning back a few inches. “Y/N? Do you want this?” 

“Yes, Mr. Floyd.” 

“Then take off your dress and get on your knees.” 

Bob stepped back as you carefully lifted the hem of your white dress, pulling it up and over your head, dropping it on the ground and crossing your arms over your chest sheepishly. 

He shook his head, reaching out and prying your arms off of your chest, exposing your breasts in the whisper of white mesh and lace, the dainty sheer g-string, the sheer thigh highs that you had worn to please him. “Fuck,” he murmurred, letting your arms go and trailing one fingertip over your right breast, circling the hardened nipple. You whimpered, aching for him. “God, you’re beautiful.” 

Your eyes fluttered closed for a moment before they snapped open and Bob’s hand was drawn back. You sank to the floor, wetness already pooling in your panties. 

“Go ahead,” Bob said, his voice almost gritty it was so hoarse. Your hands reached up for his belt, undoing the clasp clumsily before pressing ahead the button of his pants, unlooping it. Your eyes widened as your fingers wrapped around the metal zipper, tugging it down over his hard bulge. Bob groaned as your fingers drew over his cock, even through his boxers, and you tugged the waistband of his khakis down, kneeling back slightly. “You ready for my cock, darlin’?” 

You nodded, skimming your fingers under the band of his boxer briefs, tugging them down as Bob’s hard cock sprang to attention. You audibly gasped and above you, Bob smirked. He was thick and impossibly long, angry red head seemingly staring at you, taunting you. 

Immediately, you reached out and licked the tip with your tongue, swirling it around his leaking tip, your eyes locked on Bob’s. His hands stayed at his side like a mummy, but his blue eyes bore into yours. 

You opened your mouth wider, pressing your thighs together as you leaned in, one hand on the base of his shaft while you pushed his cock into your mouth and throat, gagging around his length as his tip bashed against the back of your throat. Your eyes started to water but you kept your eyes on Bob, pulling back and gasping before taking him back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks, sucking on him harshly. 

“Fuck!” he grunted as you gagged around him, your fingers tight on the base of his cock. He reached out, threading his fingers into your hair carefully, pulling you back, wiping the frothy saliva from your lips as you kneeled at his feet, chest heaving. “You like that?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Yes, Mr. Floyd.” 

His eyes darkened. “Open,” he commanded and you opened your mouth as Bob fisted himself, pushing his cock all the way into your mouth and throat, fingers holding the back of your head in a gentle cradle. “Now put that pretty little mouth to good use,” he whispered, “and make me cum down your throat.” 

Bob watched as you placed your hands on his hips, steadying yourself, using your head and neck to bob back and forth on his cock, sucking his length repeatedly. 

Your right hand slid around the base of his cock, jerking the parts of him that wouldn’t fit into your mouth as you groaned, the vibrations sending Bob into the stratosphere. As you became more comfortable, you reached down, cupping his balls, squeezing them tightly before letting go as Bob panted above you. 

Bob’s hand cradled your head and you opened wider as you felt him taking control, snapping his hips forward, thrusting his cock deep into your throat, causing you to sputter around him. “You can take it,” he murmured, pulling out a few inches before filling your mouth and throat again. “Such a good fucking girl, taking my cock. Now make me cum.” 

You nodded, eyes watery, and Bob groaned, one of his hands bracing himself against the wall, the other preventing your head from hitting the wooden paneling as he drove his cock into your throat, letting out a string of curse words as you felt him stutter above you, his hot cum filling your throat and mouth, spilling out of the corners of your lips, mixing with the tears that were streaming down your cheeks. 

Bob collapsed forward, resting his forehead on his arm, pushing his cock deeper into you one last time before pulling out as you swallowed his salty spend. He leaned back, panting, and swiped one thumb over your lips. “Come here.” 

You stood, slightly wobbly, and inhaled sharply as Bob spun you around, placing his hands over yours against the wall. There was the sound of him pulling his pants back on, clicking the buckle, before his hands were back on your waist, thick fingers slipping into the lacy garter band, one hand traveling up and cupping your breast as he pressed against you from behind, his breath warm in your ear. 

“Tell me what you want.” 

Your eyes were closed. All that you could feel were Bob’s hands exploring your body. “You.” It was a whisper. 

Bob spun you around until your back was against the wall and your eyes popped open. He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours, tasting himself on you, his fingers wrapping around your waist. 

The next minute you were in Bob’s arms, your legs wrapped around his waist, his lips still on yours as he carried you through the living room, down the hall toward the master bedroom. 

You had been in Bob Floyd’s bedroom once before. 

A few years back, Anna had invited you over for a sleepover when Bob was away for a work trip. Her mother was also busy, which led the two of you to stay in the house alone. Anna had suggested sleeping in Bob’s room because it had a large TV mounted over the fireplace. 

But after the movie marathon and once Anna fell asleep, you snuck off to the bathroom, opening a bottle of Bob’s cologne, inhaling his scent, wondering what it would be like to smell him up close. 

As he laid you down on the king bed, you caught a whiff of that familiar cologne. Duc De Vervins Houbigant. You could clearly picture the sheer green and gold bottle. You had never thought you'd get this close to him.

Bob laid you down carefully. You sat up on your elbows, looking at him as he stood at the edge of the bed. Gently, Bob placed one hand on each of your knees, spreading your legs apart, his hands smoothing over the lace of your thigh highs, up to the garter straps which he snapped against your skin. He leaned forward, pressing his mouth to your exposed stomach, kissing the skin. You felt anticipation and desire pooling between your legs as Bob’s fingers dug into your hips. 

“Please,” you begged and Bob lifted his head. 

“Please what?” 

You wanted to blush or feel embarrassment, but you couldn’t. Not with the way that Bob was looking at you. Like you were the only person he had eyes for. “Please fuck me Mr. Floyd.” 

He practically growled. Bob leaned back, standing up straight and lifting off his sweater to reveal a pair of perfect abs. He looked better than any boy you had ever fucked, even at forty, and you found your mouth watering as he removed his pants, cock hard again. Bob kicked away the discarded clothes, crawling onto the bed, hovering over you before bending over, ripping the lace of your bra down to expose your nipple, taking it into his mouth and sucking harshly as you writhed beneath him. 

“Oh!” 

He licked the bud, nipping at it gently, as your hips jumped up uncontrollably, a throaty moan falling out of your mouth. Bob popped off of your nipple with a smirk, reaching beneath you and unclasping the bra, tearing it off and tossing it on the ground. His large hands massaged your bare breasts before one hand trailed down, brushing over the lace garter, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your panties. 

Bob’s thick finger slid over your slick folds and you cried out as he nudged your clit before sinking down, teasing at your opening. 

He pushed his finger into your cunt as you whimpered beneath him, the only sounds in the room were your pants and the loud smack of Bob’s knuckle hitting your opening as your juices dripped down to his wrist, your walls gripping his finger tightly. “So fucking tight,” he muttered, adding a second finger, stretching you wide as you twitched below him, pressing up against the heel of his hand, desperate for more contact. “Shh,” he whispered condescendingly. “You’ll cum when I want you to.” 

You let out a groan, flopping back on the bed, letting Bob finger fuck you, hard, until you could feel yourself building to an orgasm. 

And then he pulled out as you gasped, raising his fingers to his lips, sucking them dry before reaching down and tearing the panties at the side, flinging them off the bed. 

Bob looked down at you. His gaze was so intense your first instinct was to look away. But instead you skimmed your fingers over his bicep where he had one arm outstretched near your head. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your lips, groaning as you wrapped your legs around his waist, your wet core brushing against his erection. 

“Darlin’,” he murmured. “You’ve never been fucked properly a day in your life, have you?” 

You shook your head. 

Bob reached over for a condom, tearing it open and rolling it over himself seamlessly. He dropped down to his forearm, face close to yours, other hand stroking your hip gently before maneuvering his cock until the tip was pressing against your entrance. “You want to stop, we stop,” he said softly. You nodded and Bob sank into your wet pussy, filling every inch of you as you whimpered, burying your face in his chest, small grunts as he pressed further inside, holding behind your knee, sinking into you. 

Once he was fully sat inside of you, Bob moaned. 

“Fuck me,” he muttered, brushing the hair back from your face, fingers resting on your cheeks, thumb pushing away the small tears that had gathered at the corner of your eye. “You’re so fucking tight.” You whined as he pulled back an inch, thrusting back into you. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he plunged into your wet, welcoming cunt, a low string of curses on his tongue as he felt you stretch around him, your hands on his biceps, grounding yourself to him. “That’s it, baby,” he murmured, “fucking take this cock.” 

“Bob!” You screamed as he leaned back on his knees, scooping up beneath you and pulling your chest in toward him until you were straddling him on the bed, Bob holding you steady as he fucked into you, your bare breasts slapping against his chest. 

He grunted. “Fuck, yes, God you feel so fucking good.” 

You wound your arms around Bob’s neck, your eyes on his as he held you close, his cock brushing that small spongy part inside of you that made you start wailing in pleasure. “Yes, yes!” 

“Don’t cum,” he growled and your eyes filled with tears as he slowed down, pulling you off of him. 

“What?” 

“Get on your hands and knees,” he demanded and you turned over, scooting your ass back toward him, practically screaming as he filled you again in one thrust, his hands on your hips, pulling you back to meet his every thrust. “Good girl,” Bob said as you tipped your head down, feeling his sticky thighs press against the back of your own legs, his balls smacking your puffy, aching pussy lips. 

“Please,” you begged, snaking one arm down, your fingers finding your sopping wet clit. 

Bob grabbed your arm, pinning it to your stomach, pulling you up until your back was pressed against his chest, his arm tight against your chest, fingers gripping your left breast tightly. “You need to learn, Y/N,” he said, smoothing his other hand down between your legs as he continued to thrust into you from behind, “that a real man makes his woman beg, but he doesn't make her work for her orgasm. Now spread your legs for me, baby.” 

You tipped your head back as Bob’s fingers brushed over where you craved them the most, instantly finding your clit, rubbing tight circles over the bud. “Fuck, oh my god, oh holy shit, yes please.” 

Bob’s voice was throaty in your ear, his lips hot against the skin of your neck. “Cum all over my cock, baby. Fucking soak me.” 

And then you were screaming, hot desire pooling in your stomach, bursting, your breath stalling as your breath caught in your throat and Bob pumped himself into you as your legs shook. 

You started to fall forward but he caught you with both arms as you rode out your high on his cock, your body trembling with the aftershocks. 

Bob loosened his grip on you, laying you down gently before rolling you over again, this time never letting his cock fall from between your legs as he repositioned the two of you so he was hovering above you, cock plunging into your exhausted cunt. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he murmurred, head dipped down, kissing your neck as you whined. “Can you cum for me again, baby? Milk my cock.” 

You were spent. But then Bob lifted his head, his gaze locked on yours, and his lips found yours, kissing you deeply, his free hand coming back between your bodies, thumb pressing gently over your clit as you whimpered into his mouth. 

“That’s it,” Bob said, “right there darlin’. Want to watch you while I fucking fill you.” 

He thrusted into you, hard, as his thumb slid over your clit and you found yourself shaking around him once again, crying out as Bob groaned loudly, hips stuttering, filling the condom with his hot cum as your walls massaged him, clinging to him tightly, your fingertips sliding down his sweaty and toned back, pulling him closely. Your leg was hooked around his waist and he collapsed onto you, face buried in your neck, his cock slowly softening inside of you as your heartbeat continued to rage on. 

After a few seconds, Bob leaned up, pulling out of you slowly. You winced as he removed his cock, feeling empty and sore as he discarded the condom. 

Bob laid back on the bed and instinctively you rolled into his side, slinging one leg over his thigh, head resting between his shoulder and arm. His fingertips stroked your side. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple. “Was that good for you?” you asked quietly. 

Bob chuckled, and your head bounced around at the movement. “Yes, honey, it was good. It was better than good. You’re so fucking sexy.” He smoothed one hand over your waist. “I want to fuck you everywhere, every way that I can, until you can’t remember what it was like to fuck anyone else.” 

You smiled. “Trust me, I’m not going to forget this.” 

Bob grinned, sliding out of bed carefully. You frowned but he held out one hand. “Come on, let’s go get cleaned up.” 

In the bathroom, Bob turned on the enormous two-person shower as you unclipped your thigh highs and garter, stepping into the marble shower, Bob joining you a second later, shutting the door. You stood under the hot water, letting it smooth over your skin and hair before turning to him. Bob looked at you with such an intensity you thought you might melt. 

“Y/N,” he grumbled. You cocked your head to the side. “Sit down.” Bob pointed to the marble built-in seat on one side of the shower. You sat down with a frown. But then Bob sank to his knees, nudging open your legs, and you grinned. “I can’t stand it. I have to taste you.” 

You leaned back with a loud moan as Bob’s sharp tongue flicked over your folds, finding your clit, circling the puffy, exhausted nerve as his large hands held your knees apart. “Mr. Floyd,” you begged and Bob looked up, eyes dark. 

“Yes, darlin’?” 

“You gonna make me cum again?” 

Bob smirked. “As many times as I can, until you can’t even stand anymore.” 

And then he was back between your legs, one finger in your cunt as his tongue flicked in circles over your clit while you leaned back, crying out when the heat started to pool in your stomach, threatening to break. “Mr. Floyd!” you screamed as you came all over his face, his lips and chin dripping with your cum when he pulled back, your thighs shaking. 

Bob pulled you to standing, spinning you around until your hands were on the cool marble wall of the shower as he nudged your legs apart, rubbing his hard, massive cock against your ass cheeks before delivering a sharp slap as you gasped. “Are you clean?” he asked. 

You nodded. “And I have an IUD.” 

“Good.” Bob reached down, sinking into you in two quick thrusts, stuffing you impossibly deep as you groaned. “I’m going to fill you up, make you mine.” And then the two of you were gasping, panting, moaning as he fucked you from behind, your bare breasts pressing against the cool marble, Bob’s grunts loud in your ear as he lost himself inside of you. “Fucking perfect pussy,” he whispered, “so fucking tight, how does it feel to be fucked by a man, hmm princess? Could a boy ever make you feel like this?” 

“Only you,” you whimpered, one cheek squished against the shower wall as Bob railed you from behind. 

“Say it again.”

“Only your cock, Mr. Floyd!” 

“That’s my girl,” he groaned, fingertips gripping your hips so hard you knew they’d leave bruises but you didn’t care. All you cared about was the unbelievable pleasure of having Bob Floyd fuck you senseless. “Where do you want me to cum?” 

“Cum in me,” you begged. “Please?” 

“Fuck.” Bob’s hips lifted and he cried out, spilling his warm cum inside of you, painting your walls, thrusting a few more times sloppily as your walls clenched around him, milking every last drop from his hard cock on his way down.

After the shower, Bob gave you a towel and you wrapped yourself up, sitting on the edge of the bed. He appeared in the doorway in a pair of pajama pants and no shirt, towel drying his hair. 

“Did you bring pajamas?” he asked. 

You cringed. You had brought everything else: makeup, makeup remover wipes, an extra pair of shoes, clothes for the next day. But you had forgotten pajamas. You shook your head. 

Bob nodded, stepping toward a wooden chest of drawers and pulling out a long sleeved henley, handing it to you, along with a pair of boxers. You pulled them on as he stood with his arms crossed over his chest. “Are you hungry?” 

You were starving. In the kitchen, Bob pulled out the makings for a grilled cheese and you sat on the counter, legs swinging against the lower cabinets, watching him prepare the sandwiches. How many times had you done the exact same thing as Anna raced around, making the two of you an afternoon snack? 

Bob flipped the sandwiches in the pan and then turned to you. “What are you thinking?” 

“You’re not going to tell Anna, right?” 

He shook his head. “Of course not.” 

“Because it doesn’t mean anything?” 

Bob’s gaze hardened. “Is that what you think?” 

You shrugged. “I don’t know. Isn’t that what you wanted? Just sex. Just tonight.” 

Bob lifted the sandwiches onto plates and turned off the burner. He stepped closer, placing his large hands on your knees. You thought back to twenty minutes ago when he had done the same thing in the shower and despite the fact that you had three orgasms under your belt for the night, excitement and lust started to creep into your bloodstream again. “Y/N,” he said, voice low and slow and it made your body ripple with excitement just hearing your name on his lips. “You mean something. You’re not just some random woman. I care about you.” 

Your heart lifted. 

Bob’s fingers pressed tightly against your skin before lifting off. He handed you a plate. “Now eat your sandwich, please. So I can take you to bed and fuck you again.” 

You bit into the sandwich and groaned. It was good. Almost as good as the feeling of being fucked by Bob Floyd. 

Bob stood on the opposite side of the kitchen, casually leaning up against the counter, eating his sandwich, his eyes never leaving yours. 

You finished your grilled cheese, rinsed off the plate and washed your hands. Bob did the same and you smirked at him. “Mr. Floyd?” 

“Yes, Y/N?” 

“Can I suck your cock again?” 

Bob smiled. “Still hungry, huh?” he asked. “Go on then, get on your knees, sweetheart. Make daddy cum.” 

Tag list (also reusing my list from Friend Don't aka my general Bob list so if you don't want to be tagged in Bob fics going forward just let me know!): @wkndwlff @bobfloydsbabe @teacupsandtopgun @blue-aconite @clancycucumber230 @yanna-banana @whisperofsong @marvelshauntedhouse @that1nerd-20

@double-j @topguncultleader @momc95 @hangmandruigandmav

@minamisulemisa @shawnsblue

@seresinhangmanjake @brehonodea @babyminghao @crthurston

@angelbabyange @taytaylala12 @mizzzpink @mygyn @sadpetalsstuff @averyhotchner @oneelleandaneye @shanimallina87

@wittywhispers @wildlyobserving @eyesthatroll @localhockeygirl @xomrsalliej4787xo @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox

@sexytholland @djs8891 @rxmtoon @darkestbeforethedawn16

@cactajuice @purplevortexx @dempy @lemur46

@louie-bug @arson-tm @valkyrja-siren-blog @avengers-fixation

@fudge13 @phantomxoxo @a-court-of-roscoe-and-baby @not-two-shrimp @emorychase @horseshoegirl @abaker74 @evans-dejong @storysimp @emma8895eb  @briseisgone @katiedid-3 @beacheybabes97 @mandylove1000

[abiiors]

cherry // ross macdonald x reader

valentine's week - day 1: secret admirer

a/n: before you say anything, yes there will be a part 2 that's literally just a nasty fuck fest. i just wanted to get the plot bits out of the way and it got way too long as you can see. cw: age gap (10-12 years), highkey ooc, incredibly self-indulgent btw, ummm kinda dom/sub? hand kink, kinda corruption kink also wc: 7.8k

it’s been twenty minutes that they’re all sat in this room—concrete walls, a little like matty’s house honestly, simple furniture and minimalist decor. it feels anything but sparse though—there’s the mic guy and the cameraman and a few assistants. there’s the host, a cheery, fresh faced woman dressed to the nines. but ross can’t stop staring. which is a problem because he really should stop staring and focus on his actual job. except the girl in front of him is distraction personified. 

next to him matty babbles on about the cultural and political significance of their latest album—all interesting, thoughtful stuff. ross, however, stares at the girl transcribing it all. and that’s what she is really, a girl. all softness and innocence, gently rolling the end of a pencil between her perfectly pink lips in a room full of lecherous men. unaware. aloof. or maybe he’s projecting. maybe he’s the lecherous one for staring at a girl who’s most definitely in her early twenties; at the pencil between her lips, at her cherry red dress.

every now and then she pulls the pencil away from her mouth and scribbles a few notes—something in neat, curving handwriting that is a little too far for him to read properly. every once in a while she also types something on her laptop, long, painted nails clacking so softly on the keyboard that the mic probably won’t pick up any of the sounds. 

on her notepad, ross can see little doodled flowers—a bit janky and uneven petals, underneath it she’s doodled a box. thin, pencil lines tracing the same shape over and over again until the paper almost rips. 

he tries not to be so obvious—tries not to stare at her face so much, at the curve of her cheek and the long lashes almost touching it, at the sharp line of her jaw, and the claw clip holding her hair up and out of her face. a few strands escape though, blowing gently against the air blasting from the aircon. 

he tries to keep his attention back on the interview. and he tries to give himself little goals—he can only look at her if matty says a certain word. he can only look at her every time the host laughs—all trivial stuff that goes out the window every time she shifts in her seat and he catches the movement from the corner of his eye. 

more than a few times, he catches her staring back—big eyes lingering right on his face with a distinctly interested expression. every time it happenes, he straightens a bit more and runs his hands through his neatly trimmed beard. 

the girl follows the movement with her eyes and ross wonders what she makes of him. 

“ross?” someone calls out for him. the host stares, expectant, and he stifles the urge to curse. searching his memory for the question that was just asked is useless; it’s not like he was listening to a word that was said in the last two minutes. but now everyone’s eyes are on him and the collar of his shirt feels tighter than it is. his cheeks grow warmer but ross laughs it off. 

“yeah, agree with what matty said,” he replies quickly and clears his throat. he has no idea what matty said last but the host seems satisfied and moves on to the next question. the girl looks up at him again and quickly presses her lips together. still, he sees the slight quirk of them, almost like she’s trying to stifle a smile or a laugh. 

this time he stares back just a bit longer, meets her eyes with intention and raises an eyebrow almost in challenge; just to see if she’d keep staring so blatantly. her eyes widen a fraction and the pencil stills on her lips. her teeth graze its end and almost dent her soft lip. 

ross sees the movement of her iris, unsure where to look. she fidgets in her seat, shifting again and crossing her legs. then she averts her eyes entirely and goes back to scribbling on her notepad.

“your head’s in the fucking clouds,” george deadpans the moment they step outside on the balcony. there’s already a cigarette dangling between his fingers and smoke curls around his head. 

ross groans. “haven’t slept properly.”

it’s not exactly a lie. he was up pretty late last night but ross lights a cigarette of his own if only to avoid looking at george. they stand there in comfortable silence for a bit, letting the smoke settle into their lungs and blowing it out. matty’s boisterous laugh floats outside and ross thinks back to the shitshow of an interview. 

there’s a reason he hates doing these, there’s a reason matty always speaks on all of their behalf. but ross knows big publications want all four of them and it’s good to create hype and get the fans excited. and he knows it’s just necessary—

the balcony door open with a creek. 

at first, ross doesn’t turn. it’s probably adam who’s bored of the conversation or matty who’s managed to escape it but out of the corner of his eye, he sees george turn around and straighten imperceptibly. 

and so he follows suit. 

the girl clears her throat. “uh… sorry, didn’t mean to interrupt you.” there’s a slight tremor in her voice and she looks up quickly from george to ross. she’s shorter than he’d realised before, only coming up to the base of his throat, fucking tiny compared to him and george and he pointedly ignores what it does to his brain to see her staring up at him, craning her neck just to meet his eyes. 

“ross…mr macdonald. sir.” she comes to a stop in front of him, all wide-eyed and flustered and calling him sir for fucks sake. he can almost feel the laugh george is trying to hold in. this isn’t the first time a nervous fan’s approached them and he’s had far weirder interaction. still he plans to smack george later for making him lose his composure

“just ross,” he corrects on autopilot then gestures for her to continue. he expects the usual—a selfie or autograph on a vinyl. to his surprise she holds up a phone in front of him and ross almost gapes before reigning it in. 

“your phone,” she says. “you left it on the set.”

quickly, he taps his back pocket and feels nothing. 

up close, he can see the tiny smudge of mascara under her eyelashes and the precise shade of red on her lips. up close he can smell her perfume too—sweet and warm, something that definitely suits her. 

the girls stares up at him expectantly, still holding out his phone. 

“thanks,” he mumbles, voice almost gruff and takes his phone back. his hand brushes her for just a moment—the pad of his finger against the back of her hand. but ross swears he feels a little jolt. quickly, she drops her hand and looks at his chest. 

“you’re welcome,” she says and this time her voice is a bit steadier than before. he’s about to ask her more. anything to make her talk more when george steps forward. 

“thank you, darling,” he says and gives her a winning smile, “he would have made us all search for it later.” 

the girl blushes furiously under all the attention, trying to maintain her bravado from before. ross stifles the urge to roll his eyes but takes the time to quickly look at her again. her hair’s down now, falling over her shoulders and hiding half her neck that was exposed to him before. he has the sudden and visceral urge to touch it, to run his fingers through it and tug on the strands until her chin tilts up to him. until she’s looking right at him. 

what the actual fuck is wrong with him!

he steps back and takes a deep drag of his cigarette untilt he smoke burns, until his eyes water. the girl nods and stammers a goodbye. then she quickly scurries back inside. 

george snorts and ross shoots him a death glare. 

“head in the fucking clouds,” george singsongs under his breath and puts out the rest of his cigarette. then before ross has the chance to respond, he opens the balcony door and disappears inside. 

ross stays back on the balcony and groans in his hands. then he lights another cigarette.

there’s a rot in his brain, gnawing at his neurons and eating through the organ until everything is replaced by a single image of her sucking on the end of her pencil absentmindedly. ross has been through this scenario a dozen times now. it was fine when he was busy, staving the thought away by replacing it with work related things. 

a million things he’s got on his schedule…

but in the comfort of his home, his bedroom, he can’t stop picturing the hollow of her throat—delicate and unmarred skin in direct contrast to her dress, her voice calling him sir. god, she’d even looked at him like a fucking fawn—all wide-eyed and unsure. he would have fucking loved to trace his finger over her bottom lip right then, if only to steal a sweet sound of surprise right out of her. 

he’s going straight to hell for this, straight to the fiery pits for doing what he’s about to do. 

ross props himself up on the pillows, delaying the inevitable, or trying to at least. but the ache in him won’t subside, the throbbing between his legs, the dizziness as all his blood rushes south. the tent in his joggers taunting him as if he were a teenager in heat. he groans. the sound echoes around the room. 

shame courses through him, already overshadowed by the heat that flows through his veins at the speed of lightning. 

he needs to stop thinking about her, this girl who he has barely said two words to. maybe this is how he gets her out of his system. instinctively, his hand creeps towards his thighs. 

he wastes no time dipping a hand in his pants, the other arm supports his head; nothing he hasn’t done a million times since he hit puberty. somehow this feels more electric than ever before. 

ross palms himself, eyes fluttering close and muscles pulled taut. he’s aware of everything—from the stretch of his soft cotton t-shirt against his skin, to his head touching the bedframe. he needs to keep what little sanity he has left, trying to sort through all the depraved and deviant thoughts racing through his mind. what would she have done if she could read his thoughts, if she could see him like this—a mess at the mere thought of her? would she kneel down and crawl towards him, hunger clearly written all over her face, her big eyes hooded with lust. 

ross groans loudly, letting out a string of curses, imagining that it’s her hand wrapped around him—small and inexperienced. stroking him up and down with unsurely; long, tentative, languid strokes making his head swim with deluded thoughts. 

his cock is painfully hard. ross knows for a fact that he’s never wanted to fuck someone with this intensity before, never before has his brain reverted to its most basic instinct like this.

thoughts of taking her all over his house makes him fuck his fist faster and faster. gone are the gentle, sensual strokes from before, now his hips buck as he thrusts into his hand. his mind plays a slideshow of made up images—her bent over on his kitchen island, the marble biting into her hips as he pounds into her. he would speak the dirtiest and filthiest words to her as he watches her squirming with want; her pussy swollen and wet. his brain conjoures up the phantom feel of her silky tresses between his fingers, gripped tightly in his hands. 

ross chokes out a gasp that turns into a broken moan. 

this is wrong, this is so wrong and sinful and every other synonym there is for it yet his mind refuses to move on from her. rather, it conjures up more images—her jaw slack with pleasure, eyes rolled back in her head as she rides him at her own pace, figuring it out along the way. he would flip her at the last second, of course, looming over her like a dominating presence, wrenching another orgasm from her after she’s already cum on his tounge, his hand, his stomach. but she would let go for him again. she would do anything to be his good girl. 

his pumps grow rougher and more erratic, gasps leaving his mouth, echoing around the room. 

fuck. fuck. fuck. 

ross wonders if she’s doing the exact same thing he is, hand buried between her thighs, his name spilling out from her perfect lips. he wonders if that would absolve him of his guilt, his shameless act. it’s the thought of her soft sounds that tips him over the edge until he cums so hard, his vision goes black.

his strokes slow down, back to slow and sensual as he watches his cum flow out of him; milky white ropes splashed on his stomach, on his thigh. his hand is a mess, the tissues he had tried to grab at the last second are nowhere near enough to contain all of it. 

with her, ross wouldn’t need any of that. he would fill her up with his cum, fucking it into her, watching it drip out of her mixed with her own release, making a mess of her thighs that he could clean with his tongue. 

fuck it. he was damned already. he might as well enjoy the ride. 

somewhere in this city, she has no clue about all the dark and wretched things ross wants to do to her. and maybe he could get her out of his mind now, have her out of his system. 

he could just as easily fuck someone tomorrow. and someone else the day after. 

yes. yes, that’s what he should do. he should forget about the girl he’s known for less than twenty-four hours. that’s what he should do. 

he settles on it too, making a mental note to text one of his old flings who might still be in the city. he feels very strongly about his resolve too. the interview is done, he’s likely never seeing her again. 

until she shows up at the studio the morning after.

the day starts like any other. he drives up to the studio, one of the assistants tells him that the band will be shadowed for a magazine profile—some prolific publication that’s going to document their entire process ahead of the release. he doesn’t worry about it too much, talking is matty’s job. sometimes george chimes in. ross and adam speak only as a last resort. 

besides he has his to-do list cut out for him. 

last night—the entire day really—was a momentary distraction. now he’s back on track and focused. the track playing on his headphones is all he is thinking about. all he should be thinking about. until jordan taps him on the shoulder. 

“need you for a few photos, mate. and the magazine people are here,” he turns around to leave, almost walks up to the door too then turns back to ross to mouth something. someone new! followed by a waggle of his eyebrows. 

ross shakes his head, sets his things aside and walks out with jordan. 

everyone’s out in the lobby, and ross hears matty laugh before he sees him. then he hears another familiar laugh and turns the corner to a familiar face. he knows tobias, who shakes his hand and gives him a friendly pat on the back. he’s met tobias before—the man is soft spoken and has a keen ear for good music, a quality ross admires and the thought of him documenting their recording process makes him happy. 

tobias goes around making the rounds, hugging george and joking with the sound engineers. then he stops and turns to look at them. 

“oh i almost forgot!” he claps his hands together, “need to introduce to a fresh face.”

behind tobias, ross catches a movement. and it’s then that everything around him fades away instantly. 

there is no mistaking it. it’s her. it’s the girl, stepping out a bit unsurely from behind her boss and smiling tentatively at the room. he observes how she doesn’t look at him—no, rather she doesn’t look at anyone, cleverly staring at a spot just near them. but never direct eye contact and never more than a few seconds.

unlike yesterday, she’s in a simple jeans and a t-shirt—grey with a faded queen logo on it—but it fits her like a glove regardless. and when she introduces herself in a lilting voice, ross feels his thoughts from yesterday threaten to make a comeback. 

this cannot be happening… behaving like a horny teenager once was enough. he doesn’t need her working here and being close to him constantly, doesn’t need her to constantly be a presence in his thoughts. thoughts that are already way too focussed on the way her eyes light up after seeing him. it’s a trick of the light and nothing else. he’s sure of it.  

she introduces herself—her name, the fact that she’s here to transcribe and take notes and assist tobias. she tells them she really liked their last album and that it was her introduction to them. matty teases her about not being a fan and she blushes deeply, barely making eye contact with him. 

ross, in a world of his own, burns with irrational jealousy. of course, it would be matty who makes her blush and gets her to open up. matty’s a flirt—charming and confident and knows how to get people to come out their shells, even the shy ones it seems. in contrast ross feels about as subtle as a boulder. 

but she seems slightly relaxed after that conversation, even throwing him a look once (and only once) when he plucks on his bass string a bit too loud. ross doesn’t look at her for the rest of the day though, not a single time. no matter how tempting it is. even when she’s buried deep in her transcripts, murmuring to herself and listening to a recording of something adam said over and over again. 

even when she crosses and uncrosses her legs, sucks on the end of her pencil again—clearly a habit, he’s come to realise. not when she stretches and the hem of her t-shirt rides up, exposing a sliver of smooth skin and the hints of cherry coloured lace. not even when she asks him where the espresso machine is. 

the rest of the day ross spends hunched over his bass, glowering at the floor. and he doesn’t manage to focus even once.

day two he’s in the studio bright and early, gasping for some very strong coffee after tossing and turning the whole night (quite honestly, he’s gasping for something stronger but it’s 8 am and becoming an alcoholic now is not an option) 

every time he closed his eyes, his brain would haunt him with images of soft skin and lips caught between teeth and sucking on the end of a pencil. every time his brain sent his body’s supply of blood to one organ and one organ alone and ross has had enough of it. 

starting today he’s focused. he’s serious! 

that is until he walks into the tiny kitchen and sees her on her toes, stretching and struggling to get a coffee mug down. a red one. the same one she’d used yesterday. with some amusement, he also notices that there are at least two mugs near the coffee machine—one plain black and one with a swirly pattern. but she hasn’t cast either of them a single glance. 

she’s stubborn, someone who knows what she wants.

shamelessly, he staggers to a stop at the threshold, watching her lean against the counter and wiggle her fingertips in the air as if that would magically summon the mug. her calf muscles are pulled taut and visible in the dress she’s wearing. each time she stretches, he sees a flash of her thighs. 

his fingers twitch by his sides, desperate to what what it would feel like to drag his knuckles against the inside of her thigh, trailing them up and up and up until he reaches her hip. how she would react if he pinched the skin between his fingers, if he marked it with his teeth. 

“need some help?” in the early morning stillness of the kitchen, his voice comes out a bit too loud and a moment later she startles, whipping her head to look at him and hand coming up to her thudding chest. 

“christ!” she gasps loudly, closing her eyes and opening them again to look at him properly. “ross–shit! sorry, you scared me a bit is all.”

he can’t help the way his eyes linger on her face—big, wide eyes and scarlet mouth parted open as she blows out a breath. when he starts walking towards her, she stays in her spot, practically transfixed on him as he comes closer. ross stops right in front of her, their bodies so close that another inch and he would be pressing into her, or rather pushing her body back against the kitchen counter. with some satisfaction, he also realises how he towers over her—almost a head taller and practically twice her size. 

her breath catches in her throat when he reaches for the mug, pulling it out and setting it next to her. but he makes no move to step back, not until she finally looks up at him instead of just staring at his chest. 

her throat moves, her pupils dilate. almost as if she’s doing it involuntarily, she quickly looks at his lips and back into his eyes. 

for perhaps the hundredth time, he’s blown away by how beautiful she is, how fucking perfect. and everything he’s thought about her comes rushing back to him, all the times he’s pictured her mouth and her hand, her soft sounds and the feel of her hair between his fingers. his train of thought runs him over so thoroughly that ross actually staggers back a bit, averting his gaze and pointing at the mug. 

he has to wait a beat and clear his throat before he can speak. 

“there.”

“thank you…” she trails off unsurely, voice barely above a whisper. “did you want some too? i was just about to brew some fresh coffee.”

all he can do is nod. and when she moves around the room, getting other things out and making coffee, all he can do is watch.

by day ten, they talk a few more times, each time being interrupted by someone or the other—first it’s tobias, assigning her frankly trivial tasks (in ross’ opinion anyway) that she agrees to happily. then it’s matty coming over to shamelessly flirt with her which honestly makes ross want to deck him with his bass even though he knows it’s harmless. 

but at least with matty she opens up slightly—telling him she’s been working for tobias for almost two years now and that it’s her first adult job. ross finds out that she’s not from london, instead she shares a flat with a friend. 

day ten is also when she stays at the studio much later than anyone else, even when the skies outside darken and turn grey and flashes of lighting burst through every few minute. ross watches her anxiously stare out the window once it starts drizzling a little before she buries herself into work again, sorting through the video and audio footage of that day and making her notes that tobias seems to praise so much. 

and so ross does the same, putting on his headphones and focusing of the actual music instead of the tip of her nails digging into her jaw, creating slight crescent moons. this time, he even manages to stay focused for ten whole minutes until he hears unsure footsteps walking towards him. 

ross looks up at her, nervously playing with the ring on her index finger and takes off his headphones. 

“you need anything?”

she shrugs, looking at him and then around him briefly. “yeah i just needed a little break from work and, uh… barely anyone else seems to be here?”

barely anyone. he’d rather there was no one here at all. and even then, the urge to seduce her into the little soundproof recording booth weighs strongly on him. it would be just him and her and the tiny cramped space and all her sounds would belong to him and only him—

“ross?” he jerks back to her looking expectantly at him before her eyes widen. “uness you’re busy, i don’t want to be a bother. sorry.”

he quickly dismisses her apology, motioning for the chair opposite him before ross smirks at her. “so you’d like to sit there and stare at me huh?” 

he feels a little evil for enjoying the way she sputters, trying to come up with a retort or just plain denial or whatever else but he gets a little distracted by the faint red tinge to her face…

what else would make her blush like that? he can think of a few thing for sure.

“what? no! no, i just…” she scrunches her eyes shut, trying to gather her bearings. “i like watching you work.”

oh that’s certainly interesting. 

“just me? not the others?”

“uh, well.” she leans back in her chair slightly, getting a bit more comfortable than before and catching her bottom lip betweem her teeth for a second. just long enough for ross to go entirely rigid. 

“you’re really still when you work,” she continues, “it’s quite calming.” 

oh he’s still alright. if only so he won’t give into the urge of constantly looking at her and following her every move with his eyes like some creep. he has to stay still if he needs to stop himself from going to up to her to try and flirt and like matty does, when he will inevitably end up making a fool out of himself. 

but she’s entirely unaware of his inner conundrum. she’s all too absorbed in her analysis of the band.

“matty bounces and paces around and it makes me slightly nervous. i like watching george when he’s on the drums or the piano but lately he’s been doing more production work so he’s always on his laptop and well, that’s slightly… boring”

“boring?!” he laughs sharply. “i should tell george that.” 

and then he finds it even more amusing when her eyes widen and she scrambles to backpeddle. there’s nothing to salvage it though. so she just sighs in defeat. 

“you wouldn’t! would you?” she looks at him with those big, round eyes and juts out her bottom lip and fuck! she could ask him to sign over half his possessions right now and he would say yes. 

“no,” ross laughs again, softer this time. “your secret’s safe with me.”  

this time he sets the bass aside, all pretenses of work gone as he leans back on the sofa, one arm behind his head. “what about adam? why not him” 

she contemplates her answer for a bit before speaking. “i don’t think he likes other people watching him, he looks a bit uncomfortable.” 

“love, half our job hinges on other people watching us…”

“no, not like that!” she straightens, gesticulating wildly, “not when you’re playing songs you’ve already played hundreds of times. i’m talking about when he’s experimenting and writing new stuff. i don’t think he likes to be watched then.” 

and once again ross is impressed by her astute observation skills. he knows how young she is—younger than him by a decade, yet here she is, reading his best friend of twenty years perfectly in just ten days. 

so he leans forward, properly interested now and scans her face for a bit, trying to get a proper read of her, of what she might say next. “and is that what you like to do? watch people?” 

“sometimes,” she shrugs, “when i find them really interesting.” 

“so you find me really interesting.”

he expects her to blush and stutter again. it is a bold statement after all and yet again she surprises him. “yeah… yes, i do.” 

this time she’s the one with her eyes roaming over his face, maybe a bit over his arms too (something he observes with an immense level of satisfaction) and the way they strain against his t-shirt. 

“good,” he smiles. “now i know i’m not the only one dying to know more about you…”

he tries not to flirt with her too directly but they talk. he tries not to ask anything and everything all at once and freak her out before she’s entirely comfortable with him but with every question she relaxes even more, leans forward and places her chin in the palm of her hand while he’s explaining something inconsequential about his bass. 

it’s only the muscle memory that keeps him going when the strap of her top slides away and a sliver of lace peaks out. 

his fingers still on the strings and she frowns. “no, play! i like the way your fingers move.”

the words slip out before she even realises it. in fact, it doesn’t dawn on her until he freezes completely and she goes bright red!

“i– no, that’s– i didn’t–”

but ross laughs it away, if only so he won’t fucking dwell on it until his head feels like it’s going to explode. 

“let’s go outside for a bit,” he offers and she accepts gratefully. 

the air on the balcony is cool—the sort of breeze before a thunderstorm—and he’s itching for a cigarette. ross looks at her again as she stares out at the trees outside, swaying with the wind. one strong gust and she shivers. her skin erupts in goosebumps. 

“you’re cold.”

she quickly shakes her head. “it’s fine, it’s so nice outside. i don’t mind that much.”

he wishes he was wearing some kind of a jacket that he could give her. the though of her in his clothes does something absolutely primal to him to the point where he has to physically stop himself from grabbing her by the waist and kissing her till she’s dizzy and moaning in his mouth. and she doesn’t help matters by moving a little closer to him, until they’re almost touching, until her arm is almost pressed up against his chest. 

“you’re cold,” he says again, voice tinged with roughness but she clicks her tongue. 

“‘s alright. you’re warm.”

“am i?” he chuckles deeply and takes a hold of her by her arm. “come here then. have a cigarette with me.”

it’s about as bold as he’s been with her. she whips her head up to look at him, and ross doesn’t miss the way her gaze dips to his mouth. just for a moment, maybe even half a second until she quickly looks away and at his chest. 

“i don’t… i don’t smoke.”

“ever?”

that makes her giggle. “no ross. i don’t smoke. ever.”

he wants to say something but the words don’t come out easily. the palm of his hand feels electric just from touching her arm, just from being so close to her. and the breeze all around them makes it impossible to escape her sweet perfume.  

“i’m not opposed to trying though,” she continues shyly and ross quirks an eyebrow. 

“you could try with me…”

“i’d like that.” he studies her face for a moment, looks at her big eyes staring up at him with a mix of sincerity and interest. 

“do you know what to do?”

she mulls it over for a moment, pinching her lips together until they’re in a kissy pout. “sure, i’ve seen people do it. i’ve seen you do it.”

“have you now?”

“mmhmm, seems easy enough.”

so ross pulls out a fresh one from the pack and places it between her lips. his finger grazes her bottom lip, the touch electrifying, making him linger there until her gaze dips to his mouth again and a light flush covers her face. she shivers again and steps even closer to him than before. 

“should i light it then?”

she nods tentatively, and ross flicks the lighter on. the flame wavers, almost goes out until he shields it with his palm and brings it up to her mouth. the fire casts a warm glow on her face, in her eyes. and she’s somehow even more breathtaking than he’s ever imagined. 

once the cigarette lights, she takes an unsure inhale and breaks out into a cough until there are tears brimming on her lashline and she’s pushing ross away lightly for laughing at her. 

“you’re helpless,” he teases. “here. let me.”

his hands graze her lips once again as he takes the cigarette from between her lips. it’s smudged with her lipstick, something sheer and pink. then he places it in his mouth, lazily taking a drag. 

“watch.” she obeys instantly, pupils dialating when her eyes linger on his mouth until her lips part and she swallows visibly. he takes the moment to blow the smoke out, bending down so he can blow it in her parted mouth without startling her too much. her eyes widen and she sucks in sharply but this time she doesn’t cough. instead, she bunches her lips together and tries to blow out some of the smoke she inhaled. it comes out in broken wisps and disappears on the wind. 

“there we go, darling,” he speaks roughly and watches her blush all the way to the tip of her ears. “should we try that again?”

she nods. he takes another drag. this time, he grips her chin between his fingers, tilting it up until her mouth is so close to his and he can practically feel her breath on his skin. her pupils are so blown out, her eyes almost look black. then he lightly brushes her lips to his and blows the smoke out again. 

ross stays where he is. he even pulls her closer until she’s pressed against him and her eyes flutter shut. her breath hitches, her hands move up to his biceps, gripping onto him until she exhales again and smoke caresses his mouth before dissipating once more.

“a-again,” she whimpers but he’s already taking the cigarette out of his mouth and putting it out on the railing. 

“yeah?” he challenges just to see if she’d move away but her hands move up from his biceps, fingers traliing up his arms until they’re at the nape of his neck, nails softly trailing down his skin. and when she shivers again, it’s definitely not because of the cold. 

“yeah,” she nods and presses her lips onto his.

his heart skips at how unsure it feel, how she has to stand on the very tips of her toes and hold onto his just so she won’t lose her balance. he doesn’t give her a lot of time to overthink it though. as soon as he’s over the initial shock, he wraps and arms around her until she’s fully pressed against him, effectively trapped between him and the railing. the light drizzle of rain starts again. ross grabs her face in his hands, keeping her still so her can kiss her properly—the kind that leaves her gasping when he grazes her bottom lip with his teeth, the kind that has her leaning against him entirely for balance when her knees almost buck under her. the kind that makes her moan involuntarily but ross doesn’t let her pull away in embarrassment. instead, he pulls her up until her legs are wrapped around his middle, her thighs pressed against his waist and his hands under her ass. and then he carries her back inside. 

just like he predicted, he fills up the tiny little space of the recording booth. the mic stand clatters and she moves it aside with a ferocity that’s unlike anything he’s seen from her before, it’s a nice surprise, to see just a glimpse into her feral side. 

ross groans into the kiss and slides his hand under her ass. his fingers snake up her neck, gripping her jaw in a grip that’s almost too tight. it’s tempting to mark her up, to leave behind bitemarks and fingerprints everywhere for people to see. she responds in kind and bites his bottom lip just hard enough to make him hiss. 

“someone’s going to hear us”

“it’s a soundproof booth darling, no one’s going to know a thing.”

his hand that’s been cupping her jaw slowly moves to her throat and she lets out a whine so desperate and needy that all the blood rushes straight to his cock. she’s practically begging for more at this point and he hasn’t even properly touched her yet. 

he thinks back to all the times he’s thought of her like this, so malleable in his hands—thought of the feel of her hair between his fingers that damned bottom lip that’s driven him so crazy over the last few days. he can’t resist nipping at it and the sting makes her breath catch. 

“i’ve nev-i’ve never done this.”

his heart thuds in his chest and for a second he worries she’s entirely inexperienced. not that he’d have a problem being her first… but he’d be damned if he let her first time be in a fucking recording booth. 

“done what?”

“hooked up.” she clarifies almost through a gritted tone, almost like she’s trying not to be ashamed of it. “outside of relationships i mean.”

“no? do you want to stop?”

she takes a beat to think then shakes her head. “no, i-i just really want you.”

ross hums in approval. it does stroke his ego immensely if he’s being honest and he can’t help but see how far he can push her buttons. “do you now? what do you want about me?”

just like she had outside, she blushes furiously, to the point where she has to stare right at his chest and take a moment to compose herself. her hands never let go of his chest though. and it’s safe to assume she can feel his racing heartbeat just like he can hear hers. 

“your hands are… i like your hands.”

“do you think about my hands a lot?”

“i don’t–i d—” her eyes go round again, wide as saucers, almost like it’s impossible for her to lie.

“no lying, sweetheart.” he tsks, and then bends down just until his mouth caresses her earlobe. “bad girls don’t get what they want.”

she makes a stragled noise, somewhere between a moan and a sound of protest but ross cocks his eyebrow and that shuts her up effective. a beat later, she tries again. 

“fine. yes. i think about your hands a lot. all the time…”

“and what are my hands doing when you think about them?”

he enjoys it very much when she stutters, trying and failing to meet his eyes, to say the dirty words in her head out loud. that alone is enough for his painfully hard cock to throb again. 

“go on,” he breathes over her skin and lets his hands trail up and down her body, “show me what my hands do.”

she places her palm on the back of his hand, so much smaller in comparison, and moves it down her body. he lets his fingers trail, lets the callouses pads of his fingers brush over every inch of skin he can until she stops just at the waistline of her jeans and looks up at him again. 

“i want you t-to…to touch me. use your fingers on me.”

“that what you think about hmm?” slowly, the slowest he possibly can without jumping out of his own skin, he undoes the button of her jeans. then he pulls down the zipper, all the while letting his knuckles drag across her skin. she shivers at the smallest of touches, so responsive and perfect.

“words, darling,” he taunts again. “i’ll stop touching you if you stop telling me what you want.”

“ross,” she whines, and tries to grind against his hand, tries to push it deeper in her pants but he quickly gathers her wrists together and tuts at how little strength he needs, how easily he can hold both her wrists together with just one hand while using the other to feel her up through her underwear. 

it’s soaked and he can clearly feel her clenching and unclenching, desperately trying to move her hips and grind shamelessly against his hand but he won’t give her what she wants until she forces the filthy words out.

“please!”

“you’re soaked, sweetheart. i can give you what you want but only if you ask for it.”

her eyebrows knit together and she almost looks… angry, about as feral and threatening as a little bunny. “fine…” she huffs, “i want–i want you to fuck me. with your fingers.”

the crass words sound filthier from her mouth, like she shouldn’t be saying things like these to lecherous old men in dark corners on even darker nights. “see?” he grins at her, all sharp teeth ready to almost rip into her, “was that so hard?”

when they kiss again, ross pushes his tongue inside her mouth until all he can taste is her, until all her can smell is her. his fingers move faster against her clothed pussy, making the fabric soak more than it was before and her legs spread wider, her hips move faster until she’s soaking his hand and practically rutting against it. 

she’s shaking, clenching around nothing and looking at him with tears in her eyes—so frustrated now, constantly whining for him to push his fingers inside her. slowly, ross pushes the underwear aside and circles her entrance with his middle finger. before she has the chance to whine again, he plunges the fingers inside and swallows her cry with another kiss. 

she clenches around his finger desperately, slickening his hand every time he pushes into her, more so when he adds another finger and thrusts into her faster. as a reward he lets go of her wrists and she immediately latches onto him, pushes her hands inside his shirt and lets them greedily roam all over his body. she traces his chest and down his stomach, she lets her nails trail up his back, scratching and digging into his flesh every time he thrusts his fingers deep inside her.

her breathing quickens and she starts pressing kisses to his jaw, tracing the golden chain around his neck with her tongue. every so often she tries to nip at his skin, to leave some of her own marks behind. once or twice he lets her… but it’s more fun to hear her gasp and mewl and cry out his name. 

“good girl,” he coos at her, “taking it so well, sweetheart.”

“feel so good,” she whispers and lets her head fall back. under his hand, her thigh spasms lightly and his pulse pounds all over his body—his chest and throat and stomach and fuck even his cock that so hard and leaking with precum now. 

he needs her so bad, bad enough that he entertains the idea of pulling his fingers out and bending her over right there. 

but this might be his one and only time with her and he needs to make it memorable. 

he needs her to feel him between her legs for days and taste him on her tongue for weeks. 

he needs to bottle up her gasps and whimpers and the feel of her cunt around his fingers and keep it hidden away forever. 

so he needs to make her cum over and over again until she can’t remember any other name but his. 

and he’s not about to do all that here of all places. 

“‘m so close,” she moans out, rutting her hips faster now, almost trying to match his thrusts and ross increases his pace, presses his thumb against her clit harder than before. “kiss me.”

instantly, he obeys, getting lost into the kiss and the way it sends little currents through his blood. she’s no better either, exploring the inside of his mouth with her tongue and riding her fingers until he can practically feel her dripping down his hands and wrist. until she lets out a string of curses and her eyes roll back. she lets out a broken moan, louder than all the ones before and he feels her squeeze around his fingers harder then before. 

then he feels her release, gushing onto his hand until he has to hold her up so her legs won’t give out on her. 

ross doesn’t stop though, he pumps his fingers in and out of her, each time earning himself another cry or hiss or groan until the tremor in her body subsides to a slight shiver and she presses her face into his chest, sweaty and barely coherent.

“that was–” she tries and breaks off. “you were–”

“have i left you speechless, sweetheart?” he teases pointedly. “look at me.”

when she manages to open her eyes, ross pulls his fingers out of her and brings them to her mouth. 

“suck,” he orders. to his surprise she obeys without hesitation. her mouth closes over his fingers, taking them all the way in until her lips are around the base of his fingers. then she swirls her tongue around them and licks them clean. every inch, every crevice. 

she lets them go with a slight pop and ross almost gets on his knees right there. 

“you are not what i imagined,” he whispers, not trusting his voice at all. 

“am i better?”

he only nods in response and kisses her deeply, tasting her on his tongue, tasting the tang of her release mixed with her saliva. 

“let me take you home,” he offers. “i want to fuck you. but not here. i want to fuck you properly.”

“like a gentleman,” she giggles.

he worries she might say no. but she only pulls away to button her jeans properly. 

“let’s go then,” she smiles mischievously and hooks a finger through his chain, eyeing it with intent. “i have thought of loads of other things apart from your hands.”

lemme know what you think <33

taglist: @scooby-doodoo, @partoftheairforce, @justgoatsbreakinghearts0855@beachesgetpeaches, @you-muppet, @mcabister, @alexmarie29, @at-her-very-foreign, @hfkait, @squishysoupy@sierraeslaprincesa@harrie-fic-center @alien-girl-violet@thereisaplaceintheheart @kennedy-brooke @lolidontknowanymore @theoriginalwhatsername@celestcies @sugarkane1001 @ari-turner @thewaywewereinsaigon @daphnesutton @beliefandsayingsomething @ros3chu @nothingrevealedeverythingdenied @zzzhealy @mattymybeloved @fck-off @indiaamars @sofaritsalrightt @k4tie75 @wondersecret @humptyhoran @indierockgirrl @hanbiior @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @rossgirly @if-my-heart-bleeds @little-lovely-darling @abriefnirvana @renitypoem @sinarainbows @lady-may-targaryen @love4agesss @angrylittlebaldman @oneluckygirl

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[thefallennightmare]

Just Pretend-twelve

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Parings: Noah Sebastian x Musician! Reader

Warnings/Tropes: language, angst, fluff, smut, star-crossed lovers, right person/wrong time, cheating, talks of mental abuse.

Summary: “I can wait for years, heaven knows I’m not getting over you.” A story about two star-crossed lovers, that always find their way back because their souls are entwined. The universe desperately attempts to bring them together, no matter what the cost.

Authors Note: All I will say is enjoy my loves.

Collaborating With: @thescarlettvvitch(better give her all the love as well)

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @ozwriterchick @waake-meee-up @notingridslurkaccount @niicoleleigh @sammyjoeee @xxrainstorm @dominuslunae @notmaddihealy @malice-ov-mercy @crimson-calligraphyx @iknownothingpeople @writethrough @thebadchic @blackveilomens Claudia on Tumblr @tobe-written @blacksoul-27 @loeytuan98 @loverofagoodbeard @comfortcharactercraze @lma1986 @plutonikchaos1 @spicywhenspeaking @lyschko666 @somewhere-diamond @hi-fancy-seeing-you-here @koskeepsake @bngurngheart

NOAH

“You wanna take, take, take. You wanna break, break, break my heart,” I rambled while pacing my room.

Fuck, do I need to add break that many times?

I rambled the sentence a few more times to see how it tasted on my tongue.

Fuck it, I shrugged. It’s good.

My fingers drummed a beat against thigh as I continued to pace the room, anything to keep my mind off of my fucking phone. “But now I know my place.”

Hi.

Who the hell says hi?

It’s been 4 minutes and 35 seconds. No-wait-4 minutes and 53 since I texted Y/N. She’ll probably leave me on read. Especially after how I was acting the last few weeks. There wasn’t a doubt in my mind that one of the guys told her how I’d been drinking. Why would she want another Trey? There’s no way she’d respond. Maybe this friendship is over, even despite our feelings. Despite everything maybe it was a lost cause.

“Fuck, I need to get the verse down,” I tossed my phone onto my bed and sang the verse once again.

“You couldn’t wait, wait, wait. For the day, day, day I lost. It’s such a shame, shame, shame you couldn’t change, look what it cost.”

Why the hell did I add day that many times? You know what? I think it works but I’ll ask Jolly what he thinks. As I stood from bed, I scratched at my stomach, my shirt riding up just the slightest and I couldn’t help but think of the reason Y/N gave me my nickname.

“Because you’re the sweetest and your stomach is soft.”

“Idiot,” I grumbled while clipping my hair back away from my face.

I could use a trim.

With a sigh, I took two steps, ready to leave my phone behind on my bed, until his rang loudly and I whipped my head back so fast. My hands shook at my sides, not reaching for it yet, afraid that I might have misheard the notification. But when my phone went off another time, I nearly jumped onto my bed to grab it.

Your Amazon package is out for delivery!

Just as I was about to chuck my phone across the wall, something told me to check the message thread with Y/N one more time.

My message was the last one sent but my heart fell slightly when I saw three bubbles appear.

“Oh shit,” I muttered almost dropping my phone but kept the grip on it firm.

The bubbles disappeared only to appear a few seconds later just to disappear for a few moments too long.

The entire time, I sat on the edge of my bed as my knee bounced in a rapid pace, just as my heart did while I waited to see if she would respond.

Angel 🪽: Hi mochi.

I jumped to my feet, a loud thud echoing from how hard the force was, and I bounced on my heels trying to think of what to say.

Hey, how are you?

Nice, something short and simple. Don’t want to push her too far.

I wasn’t sure what to say, not really. I just knew I wanted her back in my life regardless of how things went. It killed me not to have even the slightest of contact. The first step is this.

Angel 🪽: can we FaceTime? only if you’re comfortable with that. There are some things I need to say and it would be better to face to face than texting.

“Fuck,” I began pacing the length of my bedroom once again, panic setting in low in my stomach. Texting her was one thing but to see her face again made my skin itch and skin tingle in the best way.

But she hurt you.

I sighed at the voice in my mind, knowing it was true, but right now it didn’t matter. We were ready to move past what happened.

Sure.

Seconds later, my phone rang, the trill of it a constant buzzing and I hesitated to answer. But I knew I had too. I was the one that set out the end of the olive branch and she was reaching for it, begging me to pull her back.

Giving myself a quick once over in the mirror of my closets, I smoothed down my hair and wiped at the imaginary dirt on my face before I clicked the green button and soon her face appeared on my screen.

Fuck, she looked ragged. The sunken eyes, the bruised smile but shit, she still looked so beautiful. With the true state I’d been in, I knew I probably didn’t look better.

“Hi,” her voice was rough but angelic.

I noticed my door was open so once that was shut, I sat down at my computer chair, leaning back slightly.

“Hey.”

“How have you been?”

My chair rocked back and forth. “Good, how about you?”

There was a long beat of silence, and I used that time to look at her surroundings. There was a large window behind her with the setting sun casting an orange glow around her.

A true fucking angel.

“Good,” she said after a long breath. “You know what, lets cut the bullshit.”

I blinked, perplexed where this conversation was headed now.

“Angel-,” I began.

But her stern eyes stared back at me when she shook her head. “No, mochi, I need to say this. Please let me say this.”

I took a deep breath, ignoring the way my heart skipped a beat when she said my nickname, and urged her on with a nod.

Her mouth moved like a fish out of water, trying to gather her words. “I hurt you. I hurt you and I’m so fucking sorry, Noah.”

I stared at her and to be honest; I wasn’t expecting that. I wasn't sure who would apologize first then I remembered I didn’t need to apologize. I wasn’t the one who left.

“It’s-.”

“No,” she cut me off. “Let me finish. I’m truly sorry. I had no right to just up and leave with no explanation.”

She abruptly stood and walked across her room before sitting on her bed now, a furry animal curled up on the pillow next to her.

Salem.

“There are so many things haunting me, Noah. As I’m sure there are things haunting you and I’m just-I’m sorry.”

I wanted to say something, anything, but I sat frozen holding the phone in front of my face while I perched my other arm behind my head. There were so many thoughts weighing heavy on my mind until finally I started small.

“I-I appreciate your apology.”

I wanted to deep deeper into this; I wanted to continue to dig and dig and dig under her skin and brain because I wanted to know more but she was holding back.

She brought Salem into her lap then set up her phone that I could see her entire body and the cat on her lap. Y/N looked beautiful in a simple hoodie and sweatpants, her hair in a disarrayed bun, strands falling into her face but didn’t care enough to brush away.

Noise outside my door took my attention away from my phone for a few seconds as I sat up straighter in my chair, eyes narrowing towards the door.

“I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

My eyes snapped back to my phone at that word; friendship.

We already established there's nothing more than being friends. It doesn’t make much sense with what we’d been through but right now, I’d take what I can get.

“I don’t want to, either,” I admitted with a sigh. “These last few weeks have been pretty rough for me and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss you, angel.”

The corner of her mouth lifted. “I missed you too, mochi. So we can both agree, fresh start?”

“I’d like that,” I smiled. “Salem?”

She beamed while holding up the cat so he could extended his body straight like a stick. “Yep. He’s settled into the move right away. You should see Malcolm with him. At first, Malcolm wouldn’t even be in the same room together but now, I catch him stealing Salem from my room so he could cuddle him.”

I chuckled at the vision of large Malcolm snuggling with a small cat on the couch.

“What about you? How are you enjoying living in Los Angeles?”

“I haven’t got out much because of the pandemic but now that the ban is lifted, I want to find an art studio or a gym. Something to get my ass out of the house.”

“You should come with me to my gym,” the words rushed out before I could stop myself. “I’ve been trying to get one of the guys to come with but they won’t.”

She raised a hesitant brow. “Are you sure? I don’t want to interject myself in something thats yours.”

“Angel, I promise you its fine.” I assured her.

“Alright, fuck it. I’m in,” she smiled. “I want to learn some taekwondo.”

I hummed. “Lucky for you, the place I go offers some great classes on Tuesdays and Fridays, we can go this week?”

It was already Wednesday so it would be a few days before we rushed into this.

“I’d like that, Noah. Thank you.”

“Y/N, the pharmacy called me because you didn’t answer. Your meds are ready for pickup.”

Chase appeared behind Y/N in the screen and when he saw me, he cursed. “Fuck, I didn’t know you were on the phone. Sup, Noah.”

I nodded. “Hey man.”

Y/N waved Chase off. “It’s fine. We can pick them up after dinner.”

“Meds? Everything alright?” I asked with slight worry.

I fully expected her to brush me off or change the subject.

“Remember when I told you that night that I deal with something every month and it’s a lot?”

I tried not to remember the aftermath of us having sex.

“Yeah,” I said.

“Well, I have to take different meds to help with it. It’s a lot to go into right now but I promise, one day.”

“Whenever you’re ready, angel,” I said with a smile, not wanting to feel like she needed to be forced to tell me what was wrong with her.

“What the fuck? I’m starving and you two are chit chatting like teenage girls who just found out the schools hot gossip.”

Malcolm appeared on screen behind Y/N and threw up the two fingered peace sign. “Sorry, Noah. We’re taking her away from you.”

I chuckled. “All good. We can talk tomorrow? I can call around 2:30?”

Y/N smiled that bright smile that pulled at the strings of my heart; the one that connected us. “I’d like that, mochi.”

With one final goodbye, I hit the red button, ending the call with a sigh. It was only a few minute long conversation but enough to ease the worry if everything would be alright.

“Shit.”

“Get your foot off of my knee, you dumbass.”

“Did they hang up? I can’t hear anything?”

What the fuck?

JOLLY

“We shouldn’t eavesdrop. It’s not our place,” I said with my hands deep in my pockets.

“Dude, were not listening to him fuck her. They’re talking since they fucked,” Orie pointed to Noah’s closed door.

“Real classy, dickhead,” Jesse smacked the back of Orie’s head.

“I’m just saying,” he raised his hands in defense. “I want to hear! Now move.”

Jesse kneeled in front of Noah’s door with Orie leaning over him, and Michale standing behind Orie.

“Why are they talking about taekwando?” Jesse wondered.

“Shut the fuck up, Jesse I can’t hear,” Michael slapped his arm.

I shook my head before temptation gave in and I kneeled next to Jesse so I could get a better listen. This was the first time Y/N and Noah would talk since that night and since there wasn’t any raised voices, I could only hope it was a civil conversation.

“Move your hair it’s in my face,” Jesse tried to push me away.

“Not my fault you’re a dwarf, man,” I shrugged then hushed him.

“I’d like that, Noah. Thank you.”

The small glimmer of hope that things would be okay intensified when I heard the softness of Y/N’s voice. I could almost imagine that eye crinkling smile she would do; the one Noah loved.

“If Noah knows we’re listening, he won’t turn the heat on for a week,” Michael reminded us.

“Shit,” Jesse cursed.

Orie pushed Michale away. “Get your foot off of my knee, you dumbass.”

“Did they hang up? I can’t hear anything?”

Suddenly, the door opened behind us but I was the only saved from falling to the floor at Noah’s feet that was covered with his favorite pair of Naurato socks; Jesse, Orie, and Michael all falling on top of each other in a heap.

“What the fuck?” Noah cursed with hands on his hips. “Were you guys listening to my conversation?”

The three of them scrambled to their feet before running down the stairs, their laughter echoing through our shared home. I watched with a small smile and shook my head before Noah glared over to me.

“Fuck you, you know what? No heat. I’m serious! Kiss my ass.” He called out after them. “It’s going to be 65 degrees all week!”

“Wasn’t my idea,” I defended with my hands held up.

Groans carried upstairs as soon as Noah turned off the heat. “Oh, come on, Noah!”

“What the fuck, man!” 

A sly smirk played at his lips. “We got stock in Bad Omens hoodies; fucking wear one and don’t listen to my phone calls.”

Once Noah retreated into his room, I stared at the closed door with a proud smile. It was a drastic change in attitude from how he was just last week. Talking to Y/N brought out the playful, joking side of Noah that we all love and missed.

Maybe things were going to be alright.

“So who’s going up there to ask how it went,” Orie’s voice called out from downstairs.

NOAH

The soft, delicate, knock against my bedroom door made me take off my headphones, setting them down on my desk. Exiting out of my game and making sure TWITCH was closed out, I rose from my seat and ran a hand through my hair before I opened the door, heart falling into my stomach at the sight in front of me.

Y/N was wringing her nervous hands together, her bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“Angel? What are you doing here?” I questioned while leaning an arm against the door.

“Uh, Jesse let me in. I-I needed to see you,” she hugged the jacket closer to her chest, something clearly bothering her.

My brows scrunched together, still shocked that she was standing in front of me. Just a few hours ago, we were talking on FaceTime about our gym meet up tomorrow and she said she needed to hang up because Chase and her had plans to go hiking.

“Everything alright?”

She hesitated eyes darting to my bedroom. “I need your help, Noah.”

My heart jumped into my throat as I stood straighter, unsure if I heard her correctly. “With what? Is something broken?”

“No, Noah,” Y/N’s voice dropped low before taking a step towards me, hands trailing down my chest. “I need you.”

Oh, fuck.

The passionate, high energy, tension that we feared was lost came flooding back into our veins as I yanked Y/N into the room, kicking the door shut behind her. I wrapped my hand behind her head and sparks shot through my entire existence when I pressed my lips against Y/N’s in a soul shattering, earth ending kiss. My tongue pushed past her lips almost instantly, finding hers in a fight for dominance. It explored every inch of her mouth and she moaned, nails scratching at the fabric of my shirt. With one hand wrapped around the back of her neck, the other slipped underneath her shit to graze over the soft skin of her stomach.

“Noah,” she breathed against my lips.

“Fuck, I missed you angel,” I walked her backwards towards my bed.

Her lips were swollen, lipstick smeared from the force of our kiss, and I felt all the heat rush straight to my cock when I thought of those lips stretched around me, drool leaking out of the corners of her mouth and trickling down her chin as she struggled to take all of me in.

My dick ached in pain, needing some sends of release; soon.

I helped her out of her clothes; her doing the same to me, as our lips met again. My teeth bitting down on her bottom one as she tried to pull away.

She hissed while dabbing a finger to her face. “Did-did you just bite me?”

I took in the sight of her standing in front of me in a simple black matching bra and panties set.

“Fuck, you’re going to kill me,” I hooked a finger into the strap of her bra, sliding it down over her shoulder.

The tattoo’s that littered her skin almost glowed from the neon lights in my room. Kaonashi on her arm, the large array if flowers and veins on the other arm, the one of all the Greek Gods on Mt. Olympus on her thigh, and the small design of Totoro on her ankle, the ones we got on her birthday. Aogaeru from Spirited Away on my ankle.

Turning her towards my bed, I trailed my fingers down her back to unhook her bra, letting it fall down to the floor at our feet. My lips littered soft kisses along the large snake and flower tattoo on her back as I dropped to my knees, slipping off her panties to her ankles.

“Fucking beautiful,” I praised while looking up at her.

Y/N peered down at me over her shoulder. “I could get used to you being on your knees for me.”

I turned her back to face me and left my hands on her hips. “I’ll pray to this body every night if that means you stay with me, angel.”

Her hand raked through the long locks of my hair and I let myself relax into her touch as I stared at her warm core right in front of me. The phantom taste from the last time I tasted her still lingered on my tongue.

“Noah?”

I hummed while peering up through my lashes at her.

“Stand up.”

Doing what she said, I stood to my feet and now towered over her by atleast a foot. Her nails scratched down my bare chest and I hissed in pure ecstasy. The pain making me realize this was real. She was in front of me.

I attacked her lips once again as her fingers trailed down over my stomach to the waistband of my briefs, helping me step out of them. Y/N’s eyes flashed down to my hard cock as it sprang free, beads of pre-cum spilling from the slit. I rubbed my thumb over it and groaned at how sensitive I was.

“I missed you,” Y/N pressed a kiss to the pulse point of my throat; the apple.

My head titled back to give her more access, and I gripped her hips tighter.

“Sit down,” she nodded to the edge of my bed.

Once seated, Y/N kneeled down on the floor between my legs and I shivered under her touch again as her nails raked up and down my thighs. I watched her actions from the mirror behind her, eyes drinking in the sight of her large back tattoo and the perkiness of her round ass. My cock twitched in front of her face as she gazed up at me, taking her bottom lip between her teeth.

“I’ve dreamed of the way you tasted, Noah.”

My fingers grazed over her chin, up her jaw, to the back of her head and tangled within the waves of her hair. My other hand gripped my cock as I guided the tip towards her lips.

“Open those pretty lips for me, angel.”

A guteral groan sounded from the back of my throat and I titled my head up towards the ceiling, my long hair cascading down my back. I gripped Y/N’s head with a vise grip and guided her up and down; slowly at first until I reached the resistance of the back of her throat and buried my cock deep in there.

“Shit,” I breathed when she choked on me. “Feels so good.”

I kept her there for a few more seconds before letting the grip on her head ease enough that she could start moving once again. She flattened her tongue to press underneath my shaft and when her fingers cupped my tight balls; I knew I was nearing the edge of bliss. The bottom of my spine tingled with a burning that only she could bring but not yet; I didn’t want this to be over yet.

She pulled off of my cock with a loud pop as I lifted her from the ground to kneel on my bed. I pressed my large hand over her bed so I could push her upper half down on the bed while keeping her ass up in the air. I positioned us so we could face the mirror and I trailed a finger down her spine.

“Spread your legs for me,” I ordered before laying a firm smack to her ass.

Y/N writhed with a moan but did as I asked. I guided the head of my throbbing cock up and down the wetness of her folds.

“Noah,” she whined. “Please.”

“You like that, angel?” I asked.

She moans her response, but I didn’t like that answer. With my cock poised at her entrance, I leaned over her back so my warm breath fanned over the crook of her neck.

“Use your words.”

“Yes, I like it,” she answered breathlessly.

“Good girl,” I praised before slipping into her tightness; finally.

We shared a long moan, the feeling of being connected once again being almost too much for me to take, my cock pulsating inside of her. The warmth spread over every inch of pricked skin, the sensation clawing at my insides; in the best way possible. It felt like how it did that night only better because she wasn’t going anywhere. I’d make sure she’d stay tonight.

“I’m so tense, Noah,” she writhed underneath me.

I lazily kissed her back as my hips rutted up against her. “You came back.”

I pushed her face into the mattress because of my weight on her back so she could only speak.

“Always.”

My hair spread over her back when I pressed my forehead in-between her shoulders, the sweat from her skin tasting bittersweet on my tongue. I sunk my teeth deep into her, marking her as my own and pulled my cock almost all the way out, just leaving the tip.

“Mine?”

Her answer was a mess of curses when my fingers pressed into her clit, drawing fast circles. His pussy clenched over my cock as she came undone, her arousal spreading down my thighs. I hooked my fingers in her mouth to hold her up so she could watch us in the mirror now.

“Watch as I fuck your pretty pussy,” I ordered, long hair covering my face.

Y/N did the best she could to nod with my hooks in her mouth and my pace became relentless, slamming into her so hard and fast, the noises echoed throughout my room. The burning felt warm at the base of my spine as my heart pounding widly in my chest, my own orgasm so fucking close to destroying me. She looked fucking angelic from her reflection in the mirror. Her skin soaked in the neon glows of the lights of my bedroom and I wondered if anyone could hear us through the white noise of our moans and skin slapping.

My name sounded muffled from her throat since I still had my fingers hooked inside her mouth.

“What?” I unhooked my fingers.

Y/N swallowed thickly. “I want you to fuck me against the mirror.”

Anything for you, angel.

With an arm around her stomach, I lifted her off of the bed and walked over to my mirror closet, pressing her back to it. I hooked her leg over my hip then slid deep within her walls once again, my head falling to her chest with this new angle.

“Fuck,” my teeth graze over the perky buds of her nipples, swirling my tongue over them.

“Harder,” she begged, running her hands through my hair.

She gathered it at the ends and pulled my head back to crash her lips to mine and with a few hard slams of my cock into her, Y/N came apart once again for me, screaming her release into my mouth. My back tensed as my stomach muscles contracted, and with the force of my thrusts, the closet doors shook, one of them breaking off the rolling hinge and shattering the glass directly in the middle.

“Shit,” Y/N giggled.

I paid no mind to the broken glass as I buried myself deep within her, orgasm so close to cresting over me in waves.

“Cum for me, Noah,” she nipped and sucked at the tattoo across my neck again.

Her name fell from my lips repeatedly, cock thrusting into her with every utter of it.

“I love you, Noah.”

“Noah.”

“Noah, wake-.”

“NOAH! Wake up!”

My eyes bolted open as my chest heaved with every deep breath, heart pulsating to an uneven rhythm. Sweat covered every inch of my skin as I peered down at my body, dick standing straight up underneath the sheer fabric of my blanket.

It was a dream?

Fuck, I sighed while running a hand over my face before staring directly into the eyes of the person who wasn’t in my dreams two seconds ago.

Jesse took a bite out of an apple and nodded down towards me. “I hate to ruin whatever you have going on, but it’s time to get up.”

I rubbed my eyes in exhaustion and continued to heave, trying to ease my racing heart. Fick, that felt so real I was sure I was going cum.

“Must have been some dream, you were really enjoying that,” he chuckled before taking another large bite out of his apple.

I chucked my pillow at him. “I fucking hate you.”

“No, you don’t. Now hurry the fuck up, your oatmeal is getting cold.” He chuckled. “Although, maybe you need a cool down. Take a cold shower first.”

“Fuck off,” I tossed another pillow at him.

Thirty minutes and a very ice-cold shower later, I trekked down the stairs into the kitchen where three smug smiles stared at me.

“Oh, you’re finally awake!” Orie gave me a teasing smirk.

“Yeah, he was a little occupied,” Jesse laughs.

I knocked the apple out of his hands; it clattering to the kitchen counter.

“With what now?” Jolly questioned with a mock curiosity.

“Noah had a wet dream,” Jesse informed everyone.

“Shut the fuck up,” I said through gritted teeth. “Why are you guys always in my business?”

They all share a laugh before Jolly’s calming voice brought a sense of sincerity to the conversation. “It’s not a big deal, Noah. Was it- was it about Y/N?”

I did my best to hide the way my face reddened by sticking my head in the fridge to grab the milk.

“Oh, fuck. Angel. So good.” Jesse mocked in a voice that sounded nothing like me.

“Laugh it up,” I grumbled while slamming the fridge shut, suddenly not hungry anymore.

“It’s not a big deal, Noah, considering you see her today. Are you feeling okay?” Jolly wondered.

I shrugged while stuffing my hands into my gym shorts. “Yeah why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, just becau-.”

“Look I appreciate you guys, really. And I love you for helping me. I just-I want to try to atleast get back to being friends with her. I want to move past this awkward bullshit and have her in my life again. I can’t care about the details right now.”

“We know,” Orie nodded. “We want to make sure you two are going slow this time.”

“I know, I know. We’re meeting at the gym today, be nice to just hang out and do something-healthy. Talk.” I smiled with excitement and nerves.

Jolly smile while standing to his feet. “Good, I’m glad you two are talking again. Still want to write tonight?

I nodded. “Yeah, I’ve got another track we can start.”

NOAH

Inside the gym, two minutes before our meet time, I waited by sitting in a chair my leg bounced up and down, up and down- I paced that gym floor, burnt rubber almost gave the room a scent. I was finally seeing her again, since that night. Not on the phone, not waiting for a text. Physical and beautiful form. She had come back into my life like a sudden flame, blazing and streaming into my heart. I stayed up all night contemplating the certain agony I knew would be mine if I were to lose her twice.

Movement out of the corner of my eye made me turn towards the direction of the door, her angelic form stepping into my line of sight. Immediately, thoughts of my dream earlier came flooding back, and I shifted on my feet, hoping my cock would get the memo not to get hard.

Not right now.

All the breath got knocked out of me when her bright eyes landed on me and I gave her a small, awkward wave. When I saw her last on FaceTime yesterday, her skin still looked sunken in and pale, but now she looked like all the life had been breathed back into her.

“Hi,” she smiled.

“Hey.”

“Sorry I’m late. Chase dropped me off so I only have an hour before he picks me up. Something about him and Malcolm having tickets to a movie tonight.”

I waved her off. “You’re fine, angel. I could always give you a ride back home if you need.”

She thought about it, I could tell the way her pupils dilated.

“That’s sweet of you, Noah. But Chase promised he’d buy me Greek for dinner tonight before dropping me off to my art class,” she shrugged playfully.

I wasn’t sure if that was the truth or just an excuse not to spend more alone time together. Even if our conversation was flowing, there was still that awkward tension because of the elephant in the room; the one neither of us wanted to discuss. We wanted to move past what happened, start fresh.

“Art class?”

“Yeah,” she beamed. “I’m taking some painting lessons. Just another thing I started post pandemic.”

“That’s great, angel. I’d love to see what you create,” I said.

We were silents for a few long beats, just gazing at each other, and feeling the sudden thick tension, I motioned towards the equipment behind me.

“Is there something specific you want to get started on?”

“I usually like to warm up on the treadmill,” Y/N said while adjusting the strap of her gym bag.

We walked over to a more quiet area of the gym, neither of us wanting to be noticed, and as I set my things down on an open bench, I tossed off my sweater, being left in a cut off t-shirt and black shorts, and when I noticed Y/N was still wearing her heavy sweater, I raised a brow.

“Aren’t you going to get hot in that?”

She shrugged while playing with the zipper. “I’ll be fine.”

“Angel,” I took a step towards her. “Take it off. It’s hot in here already. Don’t feel like you have to hide yourself, especially from me. Remember that?”

Considering I’ve seen it all already.

Ignoring the voice in my head, I watched as Y/N eventually nodded and shed off the extra layer, now standing in front of me in tight leggings that hugged her ass perfectly and a sports bra, showing off the toned stomach I wanted to graze my tongue over.

Focus, Noah.

For the next hour, we spent time on our own choices of machines but still within range of sight. Since we were here later on in the evening, the gym wasn't that crowded. Every so often, our gazes would find each other from across the area we were working out in; me on the weight machine, her at the treadmills. It was that invisible string that tethered our hearts together, always wanting to make sure that we never strayed to far from each other.

Now, we stood packing up our things and Y/N hissed as she tried to rub out a sore spot in her back, one she couldn’t reach.

“Mochi, do you mind helping stretching me out?”

Fuck. Me.

The nickname did wonders on my already racing heart.

“Uh, yea. Sure.”

My fingers gripped her hips as she twisted and turned, before bending over to touch her toes while one hand began rubbing out the tense knots in her back.

“Oh, thank you, Noah. I’ve been so tense back there lately.”

“I’m so tense, Noah,” she writhed underneath me.

Images of her underneath me, cock slamming into her, made my cock twitch with the need to be touched. And with how close Y/N was to me as she stood straight, I knew if she took the slightest step back, my cock would brush against her ass.

Fuck, this wasn’t going to be easy.

NOAH

I all but busted through the front door, gripping my gym bag so tight my knuckles had gone white. Shortly after helping stretch out Y/N, Chase arrived to pick her up. We decided we would meet every Friday around 1o am for the taekwando classes. Ever since my dream this morning and now what happened at the gym, my cock was throbbing almost in pain, begging for release.

“How did your workout go?”

“Went great,” I tossed towards Jesse who sat with Harper in his lap on the couch.

“Just great? I mean that’s it?”

With a sigh, I stopped halfway up the stairs. “Yeah we talked, we- we’re good. I’m gonna take a shower and I’ll be down soon.”

Finally in the solitude of the bathroom, I stared at myself in the mirror. Sweat covered every inch of me again and I tensed, my whole face red and contorted. Y/N in that outfit haunted my mind since the second I saw her. I see the way she moved during her workout, her panting, the sweat dripping off her skin.

Then thoughts of our night together overtook me and I gripped the bathroom counter to steady myself. It was impossibly hard to forget.

“Fuck,” I groaned feeling the blood rushing to every organ in my body.

I turned the shower on, letting the steam gather and levitate around the room.

Hades doesn't have shit on me.

The steam almost makes me glow as I continued to stand there, staring at myself in the mirror for a few more seconds before stripping out of my gym clothes, leaving them in a heap on the floor.

My body was wet, soaked from the steam and sweat alone, as my chest heaved with every deep breath I took. Flashes of Y/N still overtaking my mind. Once finally under the spray of the water, I couldn’t take it anymore; my cock couldn't take it anymore. It was thick, red, and angry from the prolonged release and I brushed my thumb over the head, smearing the pre-cum from tip to base. With one hand on the wall and the other wrapped tightly around my cock, I stroked myself fast, not wanting to drag this out any longer.

“I miss the way you say my name, angel,” I panted.

I hear her say my name over and over. Memories flash from the beginning, her smile, her body, the way she was mounted on top of me. Oh gods, I see it and her mouth in an O shape as she came undone on my cock; in the dream and real life.

My head tilted back towards the water and I had to open my mouth, letting the water deep throat me, to muffle my sounds. The noises, the voice that was her in my head. It was so hard to just pretend what it’s like when I tasted the real thing before.

“God, I want to fuck you again. So bad.”

My deep, guttural groan echoed through the confines of the bathroom as my hips stilled, my release finally spilling into my hand.

NOAH

I sat on the edge of my bed, towel wrapped loosely around my hips, and the pen scratching widely on the paper in my lap. My head snapped up to the mirror in front of me, hair soaked with the water from my shower as droplets fell onto the pages in my lap and smearing some of the ink. But I didn’t care; I would always remember these words.

The perfect mirror. The one that didn’t have a crack running along it; reminding me that earlier today was a dream. I laughed a breathy laugh, grinning ear to ear while shaking my head. I fell into deep thought. Maybe I was in delirium, could have been the orgasm, could have been seeing Y/N again. Most likely both.

“Loves the death of peace of mind,” I muttered and proceeded writing the chorus of what I knew was true.

“You’re in the walls that I made with crosses and frames hanging upside down. For granted, in vain, I took everything I ever cared about.”

Shit, this was good.

Quickly standing to my feet, I threw on some clothes but before I left the room; I snapped a few selfies, then snatched the pad of paper to run down the stairs.

“Where’s the fire?” Nicholas chuckled.

Thankfully, everyone I needed was already in the living room; Jolly, Nicholas, and Folio.

I tossed the pad of paper on the table in front of them. “New song.”

The three shared a look before they leaned forward to read what I wrote.

“The way you fuck, the way you taste? For fuck's sake, Noah. I don’t want to know that shit,” Nicholas rolled his eyes.

I shrugged while bouncing on the soles of my feet with excitement. “Then plug your ears, man. Doesn't matter to me.”

Jolly was the one who spoke next. “The way you bend? The way you break? Fuck, what the hell happened in that hotel room?”

I smile the smallest of smiles. “All I’ll say is I was Mount Olympus.”

The three of them share yet another look before Folio shakes his head. “Didn’t need the image, bro.”