#p: tux

[trinketfairy]

Tux (he/him) Trendmasters 1997 CATZ Petz Pouncer cat

Bought from Ebay sometime in 2018. Modeled off of the black and white cat "Pouncer" from PF Magic's Petz games. Usually his collar would respond to being brushed or fed with the feeding bowl, but the collar doesn't work, nor did I receive the brush or food bowl with him. Still a very adorable kitty nonetheless, I love his poseable eyelids!

[pr1zec0rner]

Buncha' critters

I'm tempted to make these stickers tbh a lot of ppl told me they'd be cute. scratches chin

[hystericbody]

[cringearenachamp]

an inventory of steve's tuxes/tux liners from the ror tour

i need an accurate count sisters lets go

the tuxes

the liners (bc the tuxes were probably a royal pain to dryclean)

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price as Nicholas Van Ryn

Dragonwyck (1946)

[qkmlh]

Also!! HOLY SMOKES IS TOM HARDY HECKING B E E F Y IN THE LAST DANCE COMPARED TO VENOM (2018)!!!

[alexbkrieger13]

[fortheloveofaussiegrit]

◜ GOODWOOD BALL — OSCARMARK ◞

— summary ❨ how Oscar and Mark spent the night after the Goodwood ball.. uhh getting that good wood or something ❩

— warnings ❨ m/m, minors dni, nsfw, smut, age gap, fluff, alcohol consumption, drinking but there is consent & brief seb interaction ❩

— author note ❨ rushed.. very rushed ❩

❨ masterlist | goodwood tag | oscarmark tag ❩

He couldn’t help but smile when he looked at the photo the next day, favourited and saved to the album of photos of him and Oscar on his phone. His finger ghosted over the pair of them standing there, both in tuxedos. It wasn’t the first time he had stood beside Oscar all dressed up smartly in a suit, and it wouldn’t be the last, but every time Mark had always wanted a picture— for his ol’ bank of memories, locked up and stored safely away. He was proud, ever so proud, and he was beaming in the photo just like he was now, staring at his phone and grinning at it like a stupid cheshire cat. 

Oscar was smiling in the photo too— the real kind of happiness that you couldn’t fake. His eyes were bright and gleaming, and if Mark wasn’t so out of date with the features on his phone, he could’ve held down on the photo and let the live mode play to see the way Oscar had turned to look at him. His eyes were big and sparkling, and spoke more words than he could ever muster. That feeling was reciprocated; it went both ways, and even though Mark hadn’t seen that look in his eyes, he knew it. 

They had been standing so close together, not even the slightest millimetre of space separating them, their sides pressing against each other's, and Mark had slung his arm around his shoulders, friendly and just like a manager should. Oscar’s arm, on the other hand, was around his waist, clinging on slightly tighter than what would be deemed professional, but Mark wasn’t about to make a fuss. He liked the way Oscar grasped ahold of him, knowing that the champagne had gone to his head a lot quicker than it had to his own, and he had already felt the tipsiness beginning to bubble under the younger man’s skin. 

He hadn’t left Mark’s side all night, following him around as Mark greeted seemingly everyone at the event. Some of them he knew and some he didn’t, but it was great for Oscar, looking beady-eyed up to Mark as he introduced him to person after person: as an F1 driver, McLaren’s driver, one of the rookies this year, his rookie, his protege, his rookie of the decade, his future world champion... the adulation growing as the more and more champagne Mark was handed. Showing just how proud he was, how proud he was of his boy, that pride setting ablaze across his face, shining just as bright as the brightest star in all of the galaxies because that’s what Oscar was to him, and one day the whole world would see it too. 

"Enjoying yourself?" Mark had teasingly joked once they finally found themselves alone for the first time that night, finding the only slightly quiet place in the whole room. 

Oscar merely nodded as he declined what felt like the forty-first glass of champagne Mark was trying to hand him. Mark’s own glass was already nearly half gone as he watched the way Oscar looked over his shoulder around them before turning back to him.

"Can we go to bed?" Oscar spoke as softly and as faintly as he could, looking up at Mark and almost fluttering his eyelashes. 

He just let the grin creep more onto his lips because he liked the sound of that, and he never did need that much persuasion; he didn’t even need to be asked, so he just nodded at Oscar before tilting his head back as he took the last final sips of his champagne from his flute, feeling its sweet liquid slide down his throat. Looking back to him, holding Oscar’s gaze, and almost leaning down to kiss him before they were making their way back to his hotel room. 

Mark smiled to him as the door clicked closed behind them. "Yeah?" He asked, knowing that Oscar knew what he meant. 

"Yeah." He breathed out again in response as he almost jumped into Mark’s arms. Their lips met, and it would’ve been bruising if it weren’t for the fact that Mark could never, ever hurt him. His hand moved to cup his cheek, smiling into the kiss as he tried to slow the younger Aussie down, only parting when they needed to gasp a few gulps of oxygen back into their lungs. Hands started to fumble at buttons and bowties and belts until Mark was walking him back towards the bed. Nudging Oscar until the backs of his knees hit the edge and he was lying down. 

Catching Oscar’s gaze and watching the giggling reverberating through his body, his skin started to go patchy and red as not only the champagne, but the arousal hummed through his veins. 

Mark reached down to press a kiss to his lips, his body brushing against Oscar’s as he did. His fingers trailed down his sides until they were hooking under the band of his boxers and pulling them off as Oscar lifted his hips to help. Biting down on his lips as Oscar’s cock fell against his stomach, already hard, but of course he already knew this because Oscar had pressed it against him half way through the night. Grinning to himself as he ducked down so he was between Oscar’s knees and starting to press kisses into his skin, starting at his kneecap and trailing all the way down his thigh, he heard Oscar’s breathing hitch as he neared his hip bone. 

"Yeah?" 

Oscar nodded, biting down on his lip, as he pushed himself up onto his elbows so he could look down at Mark. "Please." 

Jumping up, knowing that they were rushing, but that mix of alcohol and lust made it all that much hastier— that need stronger. Making his way across the room, fumbling in his suitcase for what he needed, discarding his own underwear, and somehow making it back across to Oscar, who was laying there. 

"Yeah?" He asked again, somehow out of breath from that small excursion as he settled back onto his knees before him. 

Oscar nodded again. 

"Ok." Mark smiled as he let a little smirk curl at the corners of his mouth before bringing his lips back to the tender and fleshy part of Oscar’s thighs. Pressing kisses into his skin and gently nibbling as a small rolling moan left Oscar’s lips. Then he was reaching for the lube, coating his fingers, and pressing the tip of his finger against Oscar’s hole until there was a gasp, "Please."

Mark nodded and added a finger, and then another and another, until Oscar was withering against the sheets, his back arching as Mark’s fingers delved closer and closer to those heights of pleasure he was chasing. 

"Like this?" He asked, and Oscar just nodded. "Ok. Budge up." Mark smiled, helping him move up the bed until he was really between Oscar’s knees, exactly where he wanted to be— where he would be for all of eternity if he were allowed. 

He pressed himself against Oscar, hearing another dulcet and muffled gasp as he pushed himself in. All the way in until he bottomed out, hearing Oscar suck in all of the oxygen surrounding them as he did and letting it all back out again with a moan as Mark pulled back out. Repeating it a few times until Oscar was really squirming around beneath him, and when it got too much for him too, he had to go back to the almost bruising pace he usually set. 

Liking the way Oscar’s fingers clung to his wrists with his eyes screwed shut. How he always brought his legs up to wrap around Mark’s waist, pulling him closer as he raised his hips to meet Mark’s every thrust. Finding their own rhythm that was so utterly perfect that it made those blinding heights of pleasure come far too soon.. not that either of them were expecting it to last that long with the amount of bubbly they had consumed.

But then Mark got to lay there with Oscar in his arms, and that was almost as perfect as all of those moments before.

And all of that was at his fingertips, stored in those few pixels shining on his phone screen. 

Then came a voice that he knew all too well, breaking his trance. "What’s got you smiling like that?" Seb’s grinning little face appeared with his curls and his stupid headband as he slid into the chair opposite him. "Or should I ask who?"

But Mark just shook his head because Seb didn’t need to ask; he already knew, and Mark didn’t particularly feel like getting teased about it over breakfast.

[dolicekiss]

Hi,

may I request a Hannibal one-shot, in which he is marrying a traditional women (saving herself for marriage etc.). With the main focus of course being the wedding night?🫣😂

Untouched Virtues

CW: smut (18+, mdni), first time, inexperienced reader (like very), arrange marriage, sort of plot, age gap (unspecified but hannibal is older), messy kissing, tension, cunnilingus, unprotected sex (p in v), starved hannibal, riding, mating press, swearing, breeding, oblivious reader

Your leg shook violently, a testament to your impending anxiety as well as the anticipation which burned in your stomach. You'd exchanged vows with Hannibal, even kissed but whenever you thought about your wedding night — nervousness adorned your once serene features. Hannibal was a grown adult, so were you. It was easy having the conversation and he told you he would wait until you were comfortable.

But it was never about comfort as you had already find comfort in his presence. It was more about the actions, the emotions and the intensity of them which brought you embarrassment. You had concealed your desire for Hannibal, as you did find him attractive.

He was beyond handsome.

A beauty that is only found within the art of ancient history.

People danced, laughed, engaged in conversations and connected with each other. You were greeting a few guests, friends of your parents and when you raised your gaze from their table, you found your husband with his own gaze fixated on your small frame.

Hannibal sent you a short smile which you happily returned.

To you, everything was fine but within Hannibal there was a battle.

Of restraint, of concealed feelings, of urges.

The first time he saw you, he had fallen hopelessly in love. It was true that the love he felt for you was too potent, enough to consume his whole being and he was aware of your coyness. It was what pulled him towards you. He could not express his desires properly, not with how your cheeks would bleed crimson at a mere compliment about your hair or your dress.

The party was going to end soon and Hannibal looked forward to it. He'd comforted you that he would wait, as long as you wished for him to but that didn't mean he would not try seducing you, after he did acknowledge your attraction for him. It oozed out in all your actions, your ministrations.

The man was cunning and he knew his way around the human mind — even if that was somehow morally wrong.

Time passed by, quite agonizingly for Hannibal and finally it was night time for you.

Hannibal had brought you to his house and it was posh, had very little color but it was beautiful nonetheless. His room was a mix of greens, whites and browns and it matched his personality too as the man was always reserved and composed. You rarely ever found him losing his composure which was good for you.

You were yet to change out of your wedding dress, leaning against the wall as you looked out the balcony into the open sky, which glimmered with stars all over.

It was a beautiful sight.

You turned around upon hearing footsteps and found Hannibal had stepped out of the bathroom. He was still in his black tux and it made him look as dashing as a model. The sight before you was gorgeous and you couldn't help but stare ahead.

“You enjoy watching the stars?”

You nodded coyly at his words. “They are beautiful, and lonely.”

You whispered back and Hannibal nodded, not following it after with something. Instead the man found his place next to you and you noticed the glass of champagne he picked up on the way.

He was leaned on the other side of the wall, sipping his poison as he gazed at you rather the stars. To him you were the most brightest and beautiful star.

“You're more beautiful than the stars.” He spoke softly and your gaze found him, cheeks beetroot red. He had a way with his words and at times Hannibal would say things that could be compared to poetry in itself. “I could watch you for hours while you watch the stars.”

“You flatter me,” came a soft chuckle from you, palm laid flat across your chest as your cheeks rounded up.

Hannibal stared at you, his stare darkening at the mere thought of ripping the dress apart and claiming you as his. The adoration tainted with lust as his eyes fell lower and lower, eyeing how your legs would look, wrapped around his shoulders. How you'd sound — how breathless you'd be when he would defile you and claim you as his forever.

Hannibal inhaled, finishing his champagne.

He decided to take a step forward, and immediately your eyes captured him. Like a deer caught in headlights, you were looking at him with the most innocent eyes and Hannibal took that as an invitation. He closed the distance between the two of you and pressed your short frame against the wall rather gently, still mastering control over his rough needs. Brawny hands found your waist, holding you in place as he towered over you and the strong whiff of your scent almost drove him insane.

“I want to kiss you.” Hannibal whispered and you looked into his eyes, pupils blown fully and then you nodded.

That was all he needed.

Even if you were not willing to sleep with him, he knew the permission to kiss could lead to something more, he'd see to it.

He leaned in and captured your lips in a soft kiss and you expected it to carry on like that but that was where you were wrong. Hannibal occupied your lips — at first in a gentle lock — but soon it grew into something more. Haste urges to pry open your lips with his tongue, to slither it inside your wet cavern and explore it.

A battle amongst your tongues.

You whimpered when Hannibal sucked rather aggressively on your lower lip, one hand gripping your waist firmly while the other shifted against the wall, to wrap around your nape as he locked you in place.

You were breathless and your inability to keep up with his pace oozed out in all your actions as your small hands attempted to push at his chest for an ounce of air. Hannibal forbade you — kissing you like your lips produced the finest honey and he was a starved man.

“Hanni—” Your endeavor to speak was futile as the man was too far gone, saliva belonging to you both staining your lips as well as his.

After awhile Hannibal retreated and you nearly succumbed to the floor, plush breasts rising up and down in desperate attempts to inhale oxygen. Hannibal stared at you, in pure awe at how fucked out you seemed by a mere kiss. The man didn't waste time as he hoisted you up in his arms, earning a squeal out of you. Leading you to the bed, Hannibal peppered soft kisses along your neck while walking over to the bed in the middle of the room to lay you down.

Once he had you pressed into the bed, his fingers worked their way to your back to unzip your dress.

You gasped. “Listen—”

“You would still deny me?” Hannibal stalled, looking up at you and you fucking melted at the way he was looking at you.

Like a needy pup starved of affection.

You shook your head. “No, just slow down a little please. You know it's my first time.”

Hannibal felt the urge to punch himself. Of course it was your first and you being a sensitive soul did not help either. He nodded and leaned in to press a kiss against your forehead, hoping that would calm you down.

It did work.

You sent him a smile as his fingers dragged down the zipper of your dress, curving underneath the neckline to pull it down. Your arms flew to cover your breasts when they were revealed while Hannibal rid you of the dress, his eyes hungry and full of lust.

You were dressed in some lace white lingerie, forced into it by your mother for your husband to unravel you like some gift. You softly gasped as the cold air came in contact with the uncovered parts of your body, leaving you a bit flustered.

Hannibal made his way to your neck, pressing kisses down in a deformed line. Littering them over your plush cleavage and as well as your navel — moving down to your bikini line and pausing at the hem of your white lace underwear. In a fraction of few minutes, he tugged that off you as well and then unhooked your bra, sliding it off.

You were fully bare now and you felt breathless, bare to him. Hannibal’s gaze laid on your cunt, as he pried your thighs open. All you could do was hide your face and blush furiously while the man actually did unwrap you like you were a fucking christmas present.

“You're absolutely beautiful,” he whispered against your core, “such a beautiful cunt, my love.”

You flinched at his words but the throbbing in your soaked cunt told you this turned you on more than you thought it would. Your attempt to close your eyes was failed as Hannibal curved his arms around your thighs, holding them apart steadily as he buried his face between your legs.

Your breath hitched, the cooling sensation of his tongue over your sticky folds earning an almost whine out of you. “Hannibal.”

He chuckled a little, gliding his tongue across your soaked folds. Going up and down and then moving his head left and right, as his wet muscle prodded at your twitchy little bud.

He shoved his tongue into your hole and your back rose up from the mattress, thighs twitching from the obscene act. Hannibal fucked you with his hand, moving it inside you and lapping up at your juices like an animal. Tip of his nose brushed against your clit all while he grinded his face into your cunt.

Your taste had him addicted.

And your little whimpers too.

How breathless you sounded, soft little sounds reverberating in the whole of this room. It was satisfying enough, this validation you gave him. Hannibal slurped up at the essence of arousal you produced, using his tongue so that you would come.

You felt your stomach tighten — a foreign feeling spreading in your abdomen. A fire unbelievable. This was the first time ever someone had touched you this provocatively and sensually, a virgin you were. Chaste, pure and this was all too inundating.

Yet you relished the pleasures once unknown to you brought by your husband.

“Hannibal! I feel it, oh my god.” You knew how it felt to release, you've made yourself come on multiple occasions.

Hannibal buried his face deeper into your cunt as both your hands laid flat across his head, trying to make him dive deeper. Your vision became a blur as overwhelming pleasure consumed you. His soft tongue prodding and licking at your sensitive bundle of nerves and then sliding down to enter inside your soaked hole — it drove you wild and as a searing orgasm tore through you, your eyes rolled back into the depths of your skull and white came up front in your gaze.

Veins hot with pleasure, the blood rushing and coursing at the speed of light.

Hannibal licked at you, like a thirsty dog, licking the remnants of your orgasm as you dragged in harsh breaths.

He'd made you realize it was worth the wait, it was so fucking worth it.

Hannibal, after peeling off his own button up shirt and pants, paired with his briefs, moved between your legs. Holding his cock which you were left baffled by, eyes enlarged at the sheer size of it. You let out a soft sigh, hand moving to press at your husband’s chest.

“It wouldn't fit.”

Hannibal moved his hand to cup your face and smiled, swiping his thumb across your round cheek. “It will. I've prepared you enough.”

Hannibal guided his cock along your soaked slit, moving the cock head up and down and prodding at your swollen bud with it. You whimpered at the friction and arched your back, making Hannibal push you back against the bed. Then you felt it — the painful stretch making you cry out as your arms found solace wrapped around his nape.

Hannibal shifted, snapping his hips as he slowly entered more of him into you.

Your eyes welled up, tears like pearls sitting against your waterline. Your husband was being extremely gentle but Hannibal had his own limits. The way your tight cunt gripped him like a vice made him want to snap all of his cock inside you in one singular thrust.

But he knew you were fragile, sensitive.

“Focus on me, beautiful.” Hannibal whispered in your face, peppering soft kisses everywhere and you nodded.

Lost in his sweet affection, you hadn't realized as Hannibal filled you with the whole of his cock in little thrusts. He groaned as he bottomed out, head dropping in your neck while his arms tightened around you, locking you in place.

He pulled out soon, once having realized you'd adjusted to his size and then snapped back inside you. Your body jolted forward as you moaned out, hold tightening around his nape. Fingers grabbing onto his hair from roots, you braced yourself.

“You'll break me, beautiful. Be a little merciful and loosen up.” Though his words were soft, Hannibal had commanded you.

You nodded and tried to relax underneath him. Hannibal began to move and you felt each vein embedded within his cock graze against your walls – your breath shuddering as he delivered impactful thrusts to your cunt. His balls slapping against you, the sinful sound reverberating through the whole room.

“Hannibal, oh god.” You cried out, when you felt him pummel into a spot that was left untouched mostly in your cervix. Tears sliding down your face, he continued fucking into your sensitive cunt.

From the orgasm from before, your walls had had grown sensitive. You whined as his arms unwrapped around you, hands moving to toy with your breasts. Squeezing them and fondling the fat like it was art, fingers and thumbs sending aggressive flicks to your buds.

“Yes—oh yes.” Hannibal grunted, thrusting inside you at a rough pace now. “You're so tight, Darling. Your little cunt will have me coming any moment now.”

You sobbed, feeling overwhelmed. Your cunt was heightened when it came to sensitivity and the way Hannibal continuously toyed with your hardened peaks worked harder to tear another climax out of you.

You cried out as Hannibal pummeled his cock inside you, his own peak near. Hannibal’s grunts mixed with your whines had elevated the room with palpable tension. You were so worth the wait as Hannibal relished your moans, the way your little body twitched underneath him.

Your stomach tightened, your cunt as well and Hannibal groaned – feeling his cock throb and twitch. He delivered harsh thrusts and you couldn't hold it back anymore, your eyes rolling back to your head and your lips falling apart. Another hot orgasm overwhelmed your body and you cried out, fingernails digging into his skin and evoking blood.

The heat from your cunt and how you tightened around him, Hannibal finally released inside you. Rope after rope being emptied inside you and you whined, feeling how he pumped you full of cum.

Hannibal felt his balls throb, and soon he pulled out after spending fully inside you.

You panted, attempts to drag in oxygen into your expanding lungs. Hannibal stared at you before falling on the bed, next to you with his arms already extended to wrap around your frame. He held you tightly and brought you closer, pressing a kiss to the back of your ear.

“How do you feel, hm?”

You let out a soft sigh of contentment and let out a chuckle. “The best I have ever felt.”

[keeryhours]

the needle and the damage done - chapter one

Older! Rockstar! Eddie Munson x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

37 year old Eddie Munson is a washed up rockstar - reckless, wild, and heavily addicted to drugs. His drug use tore apart his band and his family. It’s up to him to make things right.

A bit of a prologue. Eddie destroys his own life.

Warnings:

(18+), HEAVY warning for drugs (weed, psychedelics, cocaine, pills, heroin), alcohol, addiction, one slightly smutty part, p in v, pregnancy, birth, medical conditions, rockstar and addict behavior, cycle of trauma, ANGST, mention of shitty parents, broken families

Word Count: 3k

A/N:

I hope you enjoy this new series! Please mind the triggers and warnings!

—

Corroded Coffin was Eddie’s first baby.

He started that band in middle school with his closest friends. He gave it his everything all throughout school, to the point that he repeated his senior year three times and still never graduated.

But that didn’t matter, because it paid off. Corroded Coffin made it big. Huge, in fact. Like playing three sold out shows in a row at Madison Square Garden big.

You had been there from the beginning, too. Friends since 3rd grade, growing up together in Forest Hills trailer park. Where Wayne and Eddie always gave you sanctuary from your own shitty parents.

You and Eddie started dating in 10th grade. It felt like it had been forever coming. You had both been crushing on each other since the beginning, both too scared to say anything about it. But one day, after a Hellfire campaign, Eddie cornered you in the drama room and asked you out. The rest was history, as they say.

You started working at Benny’s after graduation, waiting for Eddie to catch up with you. A few years later and Eddie was coming in with the mail screaming - the tapes the guys had sent off to record labels had paid off. One wanted to meet them.

It was a whirlwind of fame and music after that. Things happened so quickly it made your head spin. They recorded an album, released it to critical and fan acclaim, went on a tour. Eddie swept you off your feet and you spent 4 months living on the tour bus, seeing the country with him and the guys. Every show sold out, fans lining up outside after trying for even a glimpse of the band. They were usually happy to stop for autographs, unless they had to be somewhere, an interview or a magazine shoot.

The suits insisted it would be better for the band’s image if they all appeared single, but Eddie was having none of that. He paraded you around like his personal trophy, showing you off to anyone who would see. It was a little embarrassing, but you loved him.

Eddie pulled you onstage at the final show of the first tour. You were terrified to be on stage in front of so many people, already embarrassed about whatever Eddie was about to pull. But then he dropped down to one knee, pulled a ring out, looked at you like you were the only person in the world, and asked you to marry him. You said yes, of course.

Your wedding was perfect. You wore a beautiful white gown, form fitting with lace sleeves. Eddie wore a black tux. Gareth was his best man, Robin your maid of honor. It was a pretty small wedding, just your closest family and friends, but it couldn’t have been better. It was everything you’d dreamed of since you met Eddie.

With rockstar-dom came certain expectations, certain…hobbies. You and Eddie had always loved to share a joint or a bowl together, sometimes even fooling around with psychedelics. It was always an amazing time. But with fame came access to anything your heart could ever desire. And Eddie loved the drugs.

It started out slowly. He’d drink himself stupid at the after parties, climb on the bar and throw chairs and get rowdy, get into fights sometimes. He only behaved if you tagged along. But the fans loved him, the guys thought he was a blast. That was just Eddie, wild, just how he was. The life of the party, until he wasn’t.

Coke was the first new thing you ever tried together. Eddie definitely didn’t need to be any more hyped up than he already was on his own, but he loved the stuff. He’d carry the little baggie in his pocket at all times, pouring a little on his hand for a bump when you or he needed a top up. He’d spread fat lines on a mirror in his hotel room, passing you a rolled up $100 dollar bill to let you go first, ever the gentleman. Then you’d fuck like rabbits the whole night, doing more lines whenever you started to come down. For the first time in your lives, you had all the money and all the drugs in the world. The party never had to stop.

Next was pills. Oxy, Xanax, Adderall. Eddie really liked the pills. He always kept some on him, would sneak off to crush one up and snort it if he needed the high extra fast. You didn’t know. You thought they were just for parties. You didn’t know it had become a daily thing, a crutch.

1993, you were 26 years old. Corroded Coffin had been successful for the past few years. Everyone loved them, especially Eddie as the frontman. He knew how to put on a show, knew how to have a good time. You couldn’t go anywhere without being followed by fans and photographers. It threw everything off balance when you found out you were pregnant.

It had been an accident. You were terrified to tell Eddie. You didn’t want to ruin his fun, or get in the way of his dream. But this baby was happening whether you were ready or not. And you knew it was time to get sober. After his show that night, you asked Eddie to come back to the hotel with you instead of going to the after party. He had been reluctant - he loved the after parties - but he agreed. Back in the hotel room, you sat him down, the look on his face completely terrified of whatever you were about to drop on him.

“Eddie…” you had started, holding his ringed hands in yours. “I’m…I’m pregnant.”

His eyes had gone wide. Maybe if you had known then what you knew now, you would have noticed how his pupils were blown. You didn’t even know he was on anything at the time.

“Baby, that’s…” he shook his head, and your heart sunk. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want the baby. “That’s fucking incredible!”

It was your turn to widen your eyes when Eddie stood, pulling you into a tight embrace and lifting you off the ground, spinning you around. “A baby! Wow.”

“You’re not upset?” You asked once he’d sat you back down, a huge grin on his face.

“Upset? Why would I be upset?”

“Because of the band,” you said. “Your freedom.”

“I don’t care about all of that,” he said, hands on either side of your face. “I care about you. I care about this baby.” He lowered a hand to gently caress your stomach. “You’re my whole world. And now my world is about to double,” he laughed. You couldn’t help but return his smile, tears welling in your eyes.

“I’m so happy you’re happy,” you said. “I‘ve always wanted a family with you.”

“Me too.” He placed a gentle kiss on your lips, then started covering your whole face in kisses, making you giggle. “I’m so fucking happy.”

A baby girl, Evelyn “Evie” Grace Munson was born August 1994. She was Eddie’s twin, born with big brown eyes and a head full of dark brown hair that got curlier the longer it grew. She was an angel of a baby, slept perfectly and hardly ever fussed. She was even a well behaved toddler, shy and reserved. She clung to you and Eddie and her Uncles Gareth, Jeff, and Grant.

Eddie’s drug problem ramped up after Evie’s birth. He was still able to hide it, to cover it up with his partying, but it was getting worse. He was starting to take oxy on a regular basis, snorting coke or taking adderall to counteract the downer’s effects. He was pretty much fucked up all the time, but he was functional enough that no one worried. And he did his best to keep it away from you.

After it all, you felt like an idiot for never noticing.

December 1998, you welcomed your second daughter, Rhiannon Raven Munson. She also looked just like Eddie, brown hair and big brown eyes. The Munson genes were strong, apparently. She was a fussier baby, suffering with colic. There were countless sleepless nights walking the halls with her, bouncing her and trying to get her to just sleep.

Evie adjusted to her big sister role perfectly. She loved her new baby sister, even if she wanted to treat her like a doll and push her around in her toy stroller.

After Rhiannon’s birth is when things really spiraled, although you were still oblivious. But the guys started to notice, because he was less careful around them. He started spending more time away from home.

This was when Eddie did heroin for the first time.

It was just snorting it, he didn’t think it was a big deal. But god, the way it made him feel. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced, like he had literally gone to heaven. It was the best thing he’d ever felt in his life.

He never wanted to stop.

Eddie was railing lines before shows, smoking heroin as soon as he got off stage before heading to the after party. You were home alone with the two girls.

He would come home late, long after you and the girls had gone to bed, climbing into bed with you and kissing all over your neck and shoulders until you turned around in his arms, kissing him deeply as he slid his hand beneath your panties.

“My pretty girl,” he’d mumble against your lips, pulling your body into his own. “Gonna make you feel so good tonight.”

Eddie was always incredible in bed, but being hopped up on coke always made him insatiable. He’d fuck your brains out, have his hand held tightly over your mouth to not wake the kids as your eyes rolled back and you came around his cock again and again.

July 2001, Ivy Maeve Munson was born. She was born prematurely and with a congenital heart condition, and spent months in the NICU. You left her side as little as possible, Wayne babysitting the girls while you spent every possible moment at the hospital. She had heart surgery at 3 weeks old, which thankfully went perfectly. Eddie had to leave for band commitments, but spent as much time as he could by your side. He didn’t mention the pills he was popping behind your back, or the heroin he was smoking in the bathroom of the studio.

Things really hit rock bottom after Ivy’s birth. You didn’t know if it was the stress of her health problems or what, but something had changed in Eddie. He wasn’t even trying to hide his drug abuse anymore.

She was only a few months old when he injected heroin for the first time.

The rush was nothing like snorting or smoking it. The first time he did it, with some of his rockstar friends, and the drug hit his veins for the first time, he had never felt happier. Not on his wedding day, not holding his daughters for the first time. It was like there wasn’t a single thing wrong in the world, everyone around him felt like his closest friend, he loved everyone and everything. He was wrapped in the warmest, most comforting hug, his stomach was filled with butterflies like the first time he’d kissed you. Only better.

He slumped over and let it take him.

His addiction became obvious to everyone around him after that. His bandmates first - they’d get into constant arguments over Eddie showing up late too high to play guitar, forgetting the lyrics and slacking off on songwriting and practices. It was getting embarrassing for the whole band when he’d act a fool in public now, usually getting into fights with someone every time before they’d have to drag his passed out form back home.

The first time you found his kit, you confronted him in the living room, throwing it down on the table. “What the fuck is this, Eddie?”

Fear struck into his very soul. “Baby, I-“

“No.” You shook your head. “What the fuck, Eddie?”

“I-I swear I can explain-“

“I don’t think you can.” You looked down at the drugs and paraphernalia, tears in your eyes. “What have you been doing to yourself?”

“It’s just some fun, okay?” He said, hands combing through his curls in his stress. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just some fun.”

“This is heroin, Eddie. There’s needles here.”

Eddie opened his mouth, his hand outstretched like he was going to come up with some excuse, but he really didn’t have one. He dropped his arms to his sides. “I’m sorry.”

You wiped your tears away, angry and scared for your husband. “What if the girls were to see you fucked up on this stuff?”

Emotions swam behind Eddie’s eyes. “That wouldn’t happen. I promise that won’t happen.”

“Because you’re gonna stop, right?”

Eddie didn’t say anything.

“You’re gonna stop, right?”

“I…” Eddie looked around. “Of course I’m gonna stop, baby. I can stop any time, it’s no big deal.”

It was a big deal, and he couldn’t stop. In fact, his addiction only got worse and worse. He started stumbling onto stage doped out of his mind, unable to perform and forcing shows to be cancelled and tickets to be refunded. His public breakdown took over the tabloids, which was humiliating for everyone involved. And despite his promise, he came home high every day. The girls were scared of him like that, they were withdrawing from their father day by day, but he didn’t even know what was going on.

You broke up with him countless times, saying you couldn’t handle it anymore. But he would always come back, banging on the door in the middle of the night, crying and withdrawing and swearing he was done and wouldn’t touch the stuff again. You’d take him back, help him through the sickness, and things would be okay for a week before he’d be right back to it.

The final straw was when you found him shooting up a speedball in the bathroom at the house. You had freaked out - “The girls could have walked in on you! What are you thinking?!” - and Eddie was too doped up to even have a conversation with you. You called Gareth, Jeff, and Grant to come get him, because you were officially done for good.

You found out you were pregnant again after that. It was a complete surprise - Eddie was 37 and you were 36. There had been no plans for more kids. Three kids was a handful, and Eddie was his own shitshow right now. You hadn’t even talked in a week, and last you’d heard he was still heavy on the dope.

The guys were getting sick of him. The band had gone on an indefinite hiatus because Eddie couldn’t get his shit together. Everything he’d dreamed of, everything he worked for was falling from his grasp faster than he knew what to do with. But he still couldn’t put the drugs down.

You showed up at Gareth’s house, walls up as you prepared for the conversation, prepared for the state Eddie would be in when you saw him. Gareth answered the door with a somber expression on his face, and you knew it wouldn’t be good.

“He’s on the couch in the den,” he said.

You were familiar with the house, so you walked down the hall and to the room yourself. Eddie was passed out on the couch, hair a mess, sweaty, dirty clothes he’d probably been in for days. Track marks visible on his strong arms you always loved having wrapped around you.

You nudged him, and he slowly woke up.

“Babe?” He said, voice hoarse. His pupils were constricted, eyes bloodshot. He’d clearly had something recently. His facial hair was scruffy, unkempt. He reached for you, but you pulled away.

“I need to talk to you.”

He sat up on the couch with a groan, rubbing his head. “What…what’s up?”

“I’m pregnant again, Eddie.”

He dropped his hands, looking up at you. “No.”

You pulled the tests out of your hoodie pocket, handing them over. He took them with shaking hands, examining them. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I’m 6 weeks. It’s still early.”

Eddie shook his head. “I can’t- we can’t-“

“I’m giving you an ultimatum.”

His eyes shot up to you. “What?”

“An ultimatum,” you said again. “Either you go to rehab and get clean, for good…or me and the kids are out of your life. For good.”

Eddie’s mouth opened and closed, looking for something to say. “You- you can’t do that.”

“I can,” you said. “And I am. Because this is out of hand, Eddie. You’re an addict. You’re going to kill yourself doing this shit. You’re not 22 anymore. This is sad. It’s sad watching you do this to yourself.” You wiped away a tear. “I love you more than anything, and I’m just watching you destroy yourself.”

Eddie looked up at you sadly. “Please. Please don’t take my kids from me. Please don’t leave me.”

“I have to do this,” you said. You took a deep breath. “If you want to get clean, you know where to find us.”

With that you turned and left the room, leaving Eddie alone with your words. He knew something had to change. He was killing himself with the drugs. But he also didn’t want to stop. He never wanted to stop. They felt too good, made him feel so alive in a way he never did in normal life.

As you drove home, you wondered if Eddie would take your words to heart. You’d broken up with him plenty of times over his drug use in the past three years, and it hadn’t changed anything. Not a damn thing.

If losing his family and his career wasn’t enough to scare him straight, you weren’t sure anything would.

tag list

@kellsck @birdysaturne @emxxblog @iheartgrayson

[lnfours]

* ✰. — the meet cute | l.n

summary: you never thought your best friends wedding would be where you’d find the love of your life or the first part to ‘the mini valentine’s day playlist’

warnings: a meet cute!! best man!lando x moh!reader, a wedding between p and max f, pining, fluff, language, drinking, if you listen closely you can hear me sobbing in the distance

masterlist | next part | listen to the soundtrack

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

the wedding venue was packed, people seated and excitedly chatting about the soon to be mr and mrs fewtrell.

you were pietra’s best friend, automatically promoting you to maid of honor when max had finally popped the big question. you were happy for her, excited to be apart of her big day with her, cheering her on just like you always had.

you peeked out into the crowd, puffing air out of your cheeks nervously. sure, you didn’t really have much to be nervous about, it’s not like you had to worry about messing up a speech or something grand like that. all you had to worry about was not tripping over the hem of your dress, of your own feet.

a presence pulled you from your thoughts, turning your head to look at the man who had joined next to you. you smiled softly at his tight lipped smile, thankful to see a familiar face.

“hey,” he said, british accent ringing through your ears, “we’re staring soon, you okay?”

you nodded, shaking your head and pushing the nerves down, “yeah, no, i’m good.”

you and lando hadn’t known each other before this week. of course you knew enough about max to know that him and lando were best friends, practically conjoined at the hip, but after all this time your paths never crossed. there was always something standing in the way of pietra and max introducing you to each other, despite knowing endless stories about the other.

however, the way you two had grown so close this past week you would’ve thought you’d been friends for years. it was an instant connection, an instant gravitation towards the other upon introduction. you couldn’t put a finger on it, but it was almost like he was as addictive as your favorite song. the kind you could listen to on repeat over and over again and never get sick of it.

“you sure?” he asked, eyes searching yours. you nodded back at him, smiling softly again. he didn’t bother pushing it further, but instead offered you his arm, “lets watch our best friends get married.”

you laughed softly, joining his arm with yours as he led you through the hallway and back to where the lineup was forming. you stood at the back with lando, arms linked still as the wedding music started. you felt those butterflies start to come back, gently squeezing onto his bicep.

he looked down at you and leaned his head towards your ear, “you’ve got this.”

you looked up into those stupidly gorgeous green eyes, brown curls perfectly styled. he looked good in a tux and he looked good in the hoodies he had been sporting at rehearsals too. you were pretty sure he could pull off just about anything, which was kind of unfair.

the doors opened and you and lando were face to face with the crowd. you smiled at the familiar faces, looking towards the cameras and phones before turning your head back to him. to your surprise, he was already looking at you. taking in everything about you, studying the side of your face like he was going to be quizzed on it later on in the night.

he had walked you over to the other bridesmaids before the music changed and the doors opened to reveal pietra in her dress. everyone stood, smiling and wiping away a few tears as she joined hands with max who had wiped his eyes on the shoulder of his suit.

lando met your eyes as the preacher spoke, the both of you smiling before you tilted your head down. the energy in the room made it impossible not to smile, not to be happy. plus, with the added feelings that sparked at every little touch and glance you and him stole, it was a wonder your cheeks weren’t hurting yet.

it was finally time for the reception, taking care of more ceremonial events before everyone intermingled. you had made your way to the bar, ordering a drink. you heard your name, looking over to see p and your group of friends waving you over. drink in hand, you wandered over to the girls who were begging to know just about everything.

“please tell me you and lando have a thing going on,” madison, the taller brunette, sighed, “if not, you need to.”

“no seriously,” chloe, the shorter, tanner, blonde said, “you two were making heart eyes at each other the whole time!”

pietra laughed, looking over at you, “i knew i should’ve rigged the bouquet toss for your favor.”

you rolled your eyes, “for one, we weren’t making heart eyes at each other. is he cute? one hundred percent, but i don’t know-“

“oh c’mon,” madison laughed, “you’ve gotta admit you want it just as much as he does.”

“how do you even know he wants it?”

“because he’s been staring at you all night,” pietra smiled, looking over at lando as he talked with max and his family, laughing before he felt eyes on him and his eyes met yours once again. he smiled, turning to say something to max before he took his friend took his glass. you whipped back around to the girls, just to find that they had disappeared, leaving you to have your moment with him.

he smiled, hands in his pockets as you turned back around to see him.

“sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“no,” you waved him off, “the girls were just right here, and they disappeared.”

he looked around with you, “think they went over to the dance floor.”

you nodded, “makes sense,”

“ladies and gentlemen, the bride and groom would like to invite you to join them on the dance floor for a slow song.”

you watched as couples joined hands, smiling and laughing as you spotted max and pietra swaying back and forth. her head on his chest as they danced, a smile on his face as his head rested on hers. completely in love.

lando looked over at you, clearing his throat softly, “did you wanna dance?”

you looked back at him, “you wanna dance?”

“well, they did invite us out onto the dance floor.”

“i don’t know,” you mumbled, “i’m not a very good dancer-“

he rolled his eyes with a chuckle and grabbed your glass from your hand. you sighed in defeat, watching him put it on the table as he grabbed onto your hand.

“you’re dancing, c’mon.”

“i have two left feet.”

“i think you’re just overthinking it.”

he had you there. you didn’t want to not dance with him, in fact there was nothing else you’d rather do. but the thought of his hands on you, it sent fire through your body and it made it impossible to think straight.

he took your waist into his hands, your arms wrapping around his neck. you looked down at your feet before your gaze was adverted as he lifted your head back up with a finger under your chin.

“don’t look at your feet, just sway,” he smiled softly, “if you look at your feet, you’ll fuck it up.”

you nodded, looking into his eyes again. this time you were close enough to see the specks of blue in his green eyes, how his eyelashes kissed his cheeks every time he blinked, how his beauty marks and freckles cutely decorated his face.

he was pretty, so so pretty. there was no denying it.

you licked your lips as he did the same with you, studying your face again as he tried his hardest to memorize it, “so…” your voice trailed off.

“so,” he echoed back, “‘re you having a good time?”

you nodded, “the best.”

“me too,” he said, reaching out gently to push a piece of hair from your face, “i’ve been meaning to tell you since i saw you earlier, but you look absolutely stunning.”

you blushed softly, feeling your cheeks turn hot, “so do you. handsome, i mean.”

he laughed softly, “i’m good with being classified as stunning.”

you rolled your eyes and laughed softly, “shut up,”

he smiled. normally he wasn’t this nervous when it came to asking girls on dates. normally he was able to keep cool, keep calm and achieve victory. but you messed with his head, sent him through a loop he had never been through. he wanted to do everything with you, he wanted it all.

his mouth spoke before his brain could filter it, “did you wanna go on a date with me?”

you looked up at him with wide eyes, immediate regret washing over his face as your silence made his cheeks turn hot.

“oh, i’m sorry-“

“no, it’s okay-“

“- i don’t know where that came from-“

“lando,”

“i’m sorry if i crossed any-“

“lando!” you laughed, causing him to stop his rambled apology. he looked at you, the smile you wore on your face calming his nerves.

“i’d love to go on a date with you.”

he smiled, chuckling to himself as he pulled you closer. your head rested against his chest as he held you close, “thank god.”

you laughed, smiling against his dress shirt, thinking about how this could be the beginning of the two of you, how it would all start right here in this moment.

[al-1-na]

𝐌𝐞𝐭 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐚 (req.)

(not a part of any series)

𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Drew Starkey x actress!reader

𝐂𝐖: p in v, fingering, rough, puplic bathroom sex, smut, MDNI!!!

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After not touching his best friend for so long, Drew finally snaps at the Met Gala and takes her to the bathroom.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

The Met Gala was glitter and madness — flashing cameras, celebrities in couture, and champagne flowing like water. You were draped in a tight, black, custom gown that clung to your every curve like it was painted on. Hair flawless. Diamonds gleaming. And Drew?

Drew was in a perfectly tailored tux, eyes dark as sin, jaw clenched like he was holding something in.

Everyone thought you were just best friends. The press loved to call it platonic, your fans romanticized the tension, but only the two of you knew the truth: nothing had happened. Yet.

But the way he was looking at you tonight?

You could feel it — the shift. The burn under your skin, the heat in his stare as his eyes dropped to the slit in your dress, the way his hand brushed your lower back like he owned it.

“You’re gonna kill me in that dress,” he murmured against your ear during one of the cocktail rounds.

You smirked. “Maybe that’s the plan.”

He didn’t smile back. His jaw ticked instead. He leaned in, lips ghosting the shell of your ear.

“Five minutes. Find a bathroom. Now.”

You blinked, heart stuttering, but your legs were already moving before your brain caught up. You didn’t care who saw. Didn’t care if TMZ caught the tail end of you slipping into a side hallway with him right behind you.

He pushed the door shut behind you, locked it, and in one breath he had you pinned against the wall, his mouth crashing into yours like he’d been dying for it.

“You drive me crazy,” he growled, gripping your waist. “Strutting around like that. Knowing I can’t touch you. Watching other guys look at you like they even have a chance.”

You moaned into his mouth as his hands slid down your back, gripping your ass through the tight fabric.

“You could’ve touched me anytime,” you panted. “Why didn’t you?”

He pulled back just enough to look in your eyes — fire blazing.

“Because if I started, I wouldn’t stop. And this…” he slid a thigh between your legs, grinding against you, “this isn’t gonna be sweet. I’ve waited too long for that.”

He spun you fast, bending you over the marble sink. You gasped at your own reflection — flushed, wild-eyed, lips swollen from kissing.

Your dress was hiked up before you could blink. He tugged your panties down, the lace ripping in his fist as he tossed them aside like trash.

“You have any idea how many times I’ve pictured this?” he muttered, fingers sliding between your thighs. “You bent over, begging for it?”

You were already soaked. He groaned as he pushed two fingers in deep, curling them just right.

“Of course you’re wet. You like getting caught like this, don’t you?”

You whimpered, clutching the edge of the sink.

He didn’t wait. The sound of his zipper echoed sharp in the bathroom before he pushed inside you in one rough, delicious thrust that stole the air from your lungs.

“F—k, you feel perfect,” he hissed. “So tight around me. Like this was meant to happen.”

He started to move — hard and fast, no teasing, no slow build. The sound of skin slapping skin filled the room, mixed with your moans and his ragged breathing.

Every thrust hit deep, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you right where he wanted you.

“You’re mine now,” he growled. “You understand that? I don’t care who hears. I don’t care if someone knocks on this door. Let them. Let them know who’s making you feel this good.”

You couldn’t even form words — your voice was strangled pleasure, the only sounds escaping your throat were moans and gasps as he rammed into you, over and over.

Then his hand slid around, fingers circling your clit with just the right pressure.

“Come for me, sweetheart,” he whispered against your ear, biting at your shoulder. “Let go. Show me.”

You came hard, body shuddering against the sink, the orgasm ripping through you like wildfire.

He groaned deep and slammed in once more, burying himself to the hilt as he came inside you, body tense and shaking.

After a second, he leaned in, pressing kisses down your spine, softer now. Reverent.

“You good?” he whispered, breath warm against your skin.

You nodded, still breathless. “More than good.”

Drew turned you around slowly, hands gentler now, eyes still dark with everything he couldn’t say yet. You leaned into his chest, still catching your breath, heart pounding in sync with his.

He reached down, grabbed a few tissues from the counter, and knelt between your thighs with quiet focus. The moment his fingers brushed over your skin again — soft, careful, worshipful — you shivered.

“Hold still,” he said, voice low, thick. “Let me take care of you.”

He cleaned you up delicately, murmuring something under his breath about how good you were for him, how perfect you looked like this — used, glowing, and still wearing the kind of smirk that made his control snap.

When he finished, he stood, and without a damn word, tucked your torn panties into the inside pocket of his jacket.

You raised a brow.

“Souvenir?” you teased.

He leaned in, lips brushing your ear, voice a low rasp. “No, baby. Proof. In case you forget who you belong to now.”

Then he kissed you once more — slow, deep — before opening the bathroom door like nothing happened.

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐑𝐞𝐪. 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧:)

@psychocitylights @cokewithcameron

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price - Convicts 4 (1962)

[transboyswitchytales]

'Toxic To Consume But Delicious Too'(DARK FIC)

REQUEST FROM ANON: I would love to read a Claire Debella x reader fic where they have a toxic relationship…..

WARNINGS: DARK FIC

REQUEST FROM ANON: ‘if you are still taking requests, I would love to read a Claire Debella x reader fic where they have a toxic relationship. They separate because Reader wants to end the toxic cycle and Reader even moves and gets a job far away. However, Claire finds Reader e insists on returning to the relationship. Reader refuses and it seems that Claire will stop insisting but mysteriously Reader is forced to move back to Connecticut - perhaps because of her job. Yes, it was Claire but Reader doesn't kno’

NON CON ELEMENTS / Dub Consent / Piss Play Mentioned but not done / Daddy/Mommy Kink / Manipulation / Murder / Blackmail / Money Manipulation / Abuse / DARK FIC / Impregnation Kink / Non Safe-Sane - Consensual kink play / Humiliation Kink / Cock cage mentioned / Power Plays / House of Cards Aesthetic / yandere/ entrapment and negotiation / Begging / Claire G!P / Claire has a dick / You don't have the mental fortitude to say no / Past Relationships mentioned / Dr. Vidal for sure tried to fuck you / Dead Dove ; Don't Eat

Anon I hope you don't mind me making this dark, I hope you like it!

My Masterlist

You dropped yet another box full of books into the empty flat. Well, the apartment was less empty than before, you had shipped the sofa, side table, mattress, and two kitchen chairs. It was bare bones as you’d been moving pretty regularly. 

You grabbed another box full of books, and the bottom of it broke out from under you.

“Fuck.” You curse, and you see it’s one of your many ‘Claire’ boxes. A small box clatters to the floor. You don’t open it, knowing it’s your wedding ring. Your therapist said you should get rid of most of this, but you couldn’t. 

Governor Clarie DeBella was your ex-wife. Wel,l technically, you were still married. You’d tried to get a divorce and she’d refused.

She promised she’d fix everything, and you smiled and agreed. You’d made love in her office, in the town car, and then back in your mansion. 

And then, when Claire fell asleep after you’d both cum around twelve times, you silently got up wincing in pain from being fucked so hard. You grabbed your phone, your wallet, and changed into street clothes. Sneaking out like a thief in the night. 

That was a year and two months ago. 

Every three months, Claire finds you, though, a man in a tux with an ear piece would come to your work, your coffee shop in the morning, your apartment. And you’d run, pack everything again, and start over. 

It was not really a life to be honest, and you were so tired of running. 

But here you are again. 

You’d read in the paper and online that Claire DeBella, about to be former governor of Connecticut, as Claire was running to be Vice President. Was no longer in her home state. 

It was a rumor at this point, but you knew better. Claire loved power; that’s why she craved your submission so much. 

You’d been married before her, and Claire had been relentless until you belonged to her. 

Claire was obsessed with you, you weren’t even sure if she understood what healthy love looked like.

You bent down to look at the box contents. 

Love letters from Claire, and expensive jewelry were in the box. Mementos from dates, ticket stubs, and Polaroids. You’d not had time to pack most of these things. Instead you paid one of Claire’s staff members for it. You knew he’d get caught. 

But you wanted these things….It was selfish. But your wedding dress hung in your closet, and you had three boxes of Claire memories…ok, maybe more. 

But you found the small electronic, the thing you’d been afraid to turn on. 

Your old iphone, you’d turned it off only an hour after you left. 

It was the most tempting thing to turn back on. But you bought a new phone quickly with a new number, something Claire couldn’t hack or track. 

But you stared at that phone so many times, wanting to turn it on, wanting to hear her voice. 

You watched Claire on the news of course, but it wasn’t the same. 

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t use Claire’s face on CNN to cum at night. You didn’t want to, but it was the only way you could masturbate. To her blue eyes and piercing gaze. 

You were sick. 

Your marriage was toxic. 

And you’d been good to run. Or so your first four therapists had said before you’d fired them. You felt raw, you couldn’t talk badly about Claire with someone. She was not good for you, but that didn’t mean you could sit and listen to someone talk poorly about her. Talk about your marriage like they understood. 

No one would ever understand what happened between you and Claire. 

Or how you ached still for Claire DeBella. 

You held the iPhone in your hands, the tether to your old life. Every photo of your wedding and vacations, every text of ‘coming home’ and ‘I love you more than anything’, every voice memo while she was busy but had to tell you something. Your dirty home videos together while you cried for her to let you cum just put you out of your misery, they were on this fucking thing.  

You set it on your kitchen countertop. 

No. You were stronger than this. You’d just signed a lease, and you knew she’d find you in a month or two tops. 

Well, not this time actually, because the Governor was in D.C. to prepare for the election to come. Claire would be too busy to hunt you down. 

And so you’d returned to Connecticut, knowing she’d be in DC. It was the safest place to be now. 

You’d gotten a job at your alma mater (and Claire’s) Yale. 

You were going to teach Sociology, and you were really excited. 

Sure you loved being Claire’s trophy wife, fuck was it nice to not work. You had gotten to do the community service stuff you wanted. You’d gotten to start charities and..well it didn’t matter. It would be good to teach. 

So when your old professor, who is now on the board, reached out for a job offer. You’d been so excited you couldn’t believe it. 

So you’d moved back to Conneticut in this shitty apartment. 

You fell into a routine for the first two days. You enjoyed teaching again, even if it wasn’t perfect. You didn’t get close to any of the polite professors who wanted to talk with you. 

You couldn’t be close with anyone, never again. 

So it was no shock on the day you were feeling a little bit too lonely. 

That you opened up a bottle of bourbon. And you thought about your wedding….

You don’t believe you even thought it through for a second. 

But you turned your old phone on. 

It had 40 voicemails, all from Claire, the box was full. You had over 2,393 texts from Claire. Over a hundred missed calls. 

You knew what you wanted, though. You wanted that one video…of you two fucking that one night in Kansas City. Yeah, that was a good one. You were about to click on videos when your thumb hovered over the last voicemail. 

What was the last thing Claire called and said?

You are drunk, this was a bad idea. 

But you click on it.

It’s muffled for a minute, and you wonder if she’d not meant to call you, if it was her pocket or something. But then you hear her breathe, and you wait. 

“I miss you so much.”

You gulp and tears you didn’t know you could still shed for your wife fell down your cheeks. It was so quick you don’t have time to shame spiral for your feelings.

You think that’s it, but she speaks the last thing you’d expect. The last thing you’d believe from her. 

“I need you. I love you so much…You just..ran away. And now all I have left is the broken pieces of our life together.” Claire pauses in the voicemail, and you put a hand over your mouth so you don’t make noise. “If you were here, we could fight, but you didn’t even do me the courtesy of an argument…I just…

“Please come home. “ Claire says and the call ends. 

You drank a lot more that night. 

You did end up masturbating to multiple dirty home movies you two had made. 

And when you wake up, you are so ashamed of yourself. You turn off the phone and pray that you didn’t just send up a signal for Claire to notice you. 

How dumb you had been. 

You’d gone to work that morning a little hungover. 

Getting two coffee’s at your local shop, you were late for your first class.

You did your three lectures and showed your TA what you needed for the first big assignment. Bought a new set of post it notes instead of lunch. And made your way back to your apartment by four thirty. 

You slid your key into the lock and opened the door. 

You’d gone to toe your shoes off when your eyes snapped to the sofa. 

Claire.

She look at you like no time had passed.

“No….No! This isn’t happening! YOU ARE IN DC! YOU CAN’T BE HERE!” You shout as you find your wife drinking white wine on your sofa like it was another weekday. 

“Oh, come now, Mrs. DeBella, no kiss for your wife?”

Your fight or flight takes a minute to kick in. 

“Hi sugar, I’m home.” Claire teases and raises her glass as if to cheers you. 

Claire threw her keys onto the side table to prove that she in fact did have a key to your apartment. 

Your mind reboots and you stepped back and grabbed the doorknob spinning around to run and three jacked secret service looking fuckers stood there. 

They were quick, you hadn’t seen them at all in the hall.

“No more running, baby. Come inside, let’s have a chat.” Claire loudly slaps the leather sofa cushion next to her ass, indicating for you to sit next to her. 

You slam the door closed in the Men in Black’s faces. 

Fuck.

Before walking over and grabbing one of the two chair’s you’d shipped. It’s an old chair you bought antiquing with Claire. It had stayed in a random storage locker with the old sofa you’d owned in college. The one she sat on. 

You prayed she didn’t recognize the chair. 

And she obviously does, as she sips her white wine with an amused curl of her lips. 

One leg thrown over the other, her stiletto in the air. Her dress is perfection and it costs more than you make with your new job in a month.  

“Well, you seem to be enjoying Connecticut again.”

“It is where we fell in love.” You throw back, hoping it wounds your wife. 

Claire smirks, and it’s cold as she sips her wine. 

“Love, it’s good to know you still feel it. Still have the word in your vocabulary.  You have been avoiding me dear. One whole year, two weeks, and four days I’ve been trying to catch you.” Claire tilts the wine glass in a circle. Memories of wine tasting with her in Napa come back to you, somehow she’d eaten you out while wine dripped down your cunt, Claire knew how to have a good time. 

“Claire, what do you want?” There’s no fight in your voice. And she doesn’t seem to like that. 

“No, I’ve waited a long time to talk to you, my sweet wife. And now that I have you, we are going to take our time. Have you eaten?”

“I-” You start, but she puts one hand out and waves you off. 

“Let me drop the pretense, I’ve had you followed since the second you got here. I know you haven’t eaten, because I pay four different teams to take pictures of your every move. I know that you get your oat and honey shampoo, the same one I use, from the store on Third Street. I know you still have a double-shot vanilla chai latte like the ones I bought you in Dubai. I even know you went at exactly 8 thirty two am, today when you were late for work. I’m guessing a little hungover. That’s right, I haven’t slowed down. Your Mama hasn’t lost her touch. I also know that the thirty something red head slut who sells them to you asked you out. And I know you said you were married. But where is the very expensive ring, not on your finger?”

Claire’s words are commanding, just like her.

Your jaw juts to the side. 

“Shall I assume that Wanda is dead and someone is using her body for filler in cement? Or is she going to be found burned up in some accident that happens to point the blame somewhere else?”

Claire laughs but doesn’t answer. And you take that as a ‘yup.’

“I missed you, you look good, sweetheart. This look reminds me of when I first met you. Though you did look better in the Louis Vuitton, Hermès, Chanel, Gucci, Prada, Dior, Saint Laurent, Burberry, Balenciaga, those little brands I bought for you.” Claire took a sip of her wine before humming and adding. “Your best outfit was naked in our bed, of course. Nothing else could compare to that.”

Claire is punishing you, the knife that slowly cuts always takes the longest to heal. This would be good. But it’s real agony, like she’s performing. 

The door opened, and three waiters came in. They unfolded a table, draping a white tablecloth, and lighting candles. Claire just watches with a delicious grin as she takes another sip. The waiter holds two bottles of wine, and she nods to the left but doesn’t take her eyes off of you. 

A man came out with two large platters. Claire continued to stare at you, but she flicked her wrist for them to leave. 

She takes the wine, and you recognize it is an extra expensive one that she’d bought a vineyard out of for your wedding rehearsal dinner. 

She pours your glass first, always a gentleman, and the light twinkles against the rim of the expensive wine glass. 

Claire's eyes you with such heat, you try to remember you aren’t here for romance. 

She’s manipulative, and she doesn’t love you, not in a good way. You are going to run the second she looks the other way. 

Claire goes to her own glass nice and slow. 

“Mm, I suppose it makes sense we break up over the bottle we promised to spend the rest of our lives with.” You muse. 

Claire stops pouring and looks at you conflicted, before snorting in offense, finishing her healthy pour and corking the wine bottle. 

“I think you’ve misinterpreted my dinner intentions, darling.” You notice Claire’s wedding ring sparkles under the romantic lighting. She hadn’t taken it off. 

You take the glass to your lips, but speak first before indulging. 

“What is the plan, then, Claire? You going to drug me and kidnap me?”

“That all depends on you.” Her voice is so serious, and you feel a cool chill. “Let’s eat, and then we can talk details?”

“No, Claire, you know me better than that. I want the rules out here. If this is a negotiation, then let it be.” You say and take a larger gulp. Claire laughs at you but reveals your dinner, she serves you with ease and domesticity. It’s your favorite Italian food from you’d wager from your favorite place. The bitch, it was what you ate on your first date. 

“Happy wife, happy life I suppose.”

Claire gives you the fettuccine first, knowing you never ordered if for yourself but it was your favorite. You only got it on special occasions, anniversaries, valentines day, and today it seemed.

You felt like you were losing this battle already. 

Claire takes a steak knife and starts to cut her meat. 

You don’t touch your noodles, wondering if they’re drugged. Or even poisioned. 

“What do you want, Claire? I thought you’d be happy. There’s no bad look here for you. Sure, you got a few paparazzi who wondered where I went. But you could easily slip a nice warm-blooded American with the right amount of education in my place. Someone who doesn’t think for themselves too often. Give them the correct lines on the teleprompter, teach them to host dinners, there are a million people who would jump for joy at that job.”

“No,” Claire says, and she holds out a bite of her steak to you on a fork. You scoff at her, but she lifts an eyebrow, and you can’t believe your body is betraying you. You lean down and take the bite off her fork.

This was one of your many traditions, the small idiosyncrasies that made a couple. 

You had a million of them with Claire, and you missed every single one. 

And you thought Claire would have forgotten them. But here she was, feeding you stake off her fork. 

You’d joked the first time that Claire was like a lion going in for the kill. That she was a powerful woman out for blood. So of course, she’d take her stake rare, bloody. Claire had not taken offense to this at all. The Governor had told you that you were her partner, her queen on the throne, then. And if she hunted, well then it was only respectful to give the queen the first bite. You’d eaten the first bite of steak ever since. 

Claire smiled at the memory you were reliving. You chewed and tried not to moan at how fucking good it was. You couldn’t really afford steak while on the run. You don’t know the last time you’d had it.  

“What do you mean no?” You swallow the bite. 

“You know me better than that. I know you know I’m running for Vice President.” Claire was setting the scene, and you were walking into her trap. And the worst thing is, all you could do was obey. 

“It was in our plan, of course, I know.” You roll your eyes and drink your wine, not touching your food still. You lean back in the chair like you want to throw a tantrum and Claire just seems to find it cute. 

You play with the napkin and place it in your lap, you just need something to do with your hands. 

“Well, the head of our PR team tried to tell me to find a dumb replacement, like you just did. I reminded him that I am married.” 

You chew your own cheek in anxiety for a moment. Before you guess where this night is going. 

“But you don’t have to be Claire.”

Perhaps she had finally been ready for a divorce?

Claire’s face told you that wasn’t the case. As she used the big knife to cut her food. You wondered if someone would be wearing the knife by the end of the night. 

“Oh, but I want to be. Oh, I get it, you’ve deluded yourself into believing that I am here to do… what exactly, darling?” Claire cackled and took a bite of steak while never leaving your challenging stare.

“Break up? Or maybe punish me? Dump my beaten corpse in some sex scandal? Then tell the world you are hard on sex trafficing.  Oh, or maybe make it so I’m terrible and you tried to save me and work some story?” You think of angles but you are missing the big picture. 

And it is clear from the sound coming out of your wife. 

Claire laughs and drinks her wine. Almost like you’d just told the best joke at a gala.  

“You always had a good imagination. But if you think back to our plans? All those nights wrapped up in bedsheets. Think now…I’ve always been honest with you.” Claire says, and she reaches across to your plate. She twirls the fat noodles and then holds the fork over your mouth. You want to throw your wine in her face. 

Part of you still wonders if it’s posioned. But your choices are far and few. And the nagging part of you refuses to listen to reason. 

The truth is you missed this. 

Fuck, you are just as sick and toxic as her. 

You bend forward and take the food into your mouth. 

And if it is posioned it is a good bite to die on, you chew and you can’t believe how delicious it is. 

“Good girl,” Claire tells you, and you press your thighs together. As you chew, Claire looks around the apartment. “It is a cute little place, I mean I bought it of course. I thought you’d gotten rid of this grimey sofa. But the chairs were nice to see.”

You cough on your food, and Claire beams at her ability to still surprise you. But she pulls the cloth napkin out of her lap and dabs your mouth until you push her hand away. You catch your breath and then glare at her. 

“You!”

“The apartment, the job, hell, baby, I think I’ve been pretty good at setting your life up.” But she says it like it’s a challenge. You two loved to talk politics, of course you did. And you agreed on most topics, but not all. And If Claire got bored she’d disagree on a topic she believed in, in the comfort of your own home. Just to see how you’d fight back. 

That look, is the same one she was giving you now. She just wanted a debate. 

“No, you didn’t do this to set me up.”

Claire likes your answer. 

“You are smart, always were, keep going, Mrs. DeBella.”

“You wanted to show me how quickly you could give me what I want..”

“And?” Claire looks like she’s about to reveal how she performs a magic trick.

“How quickly you could take it all away.” The last part made you feel a little sick. 

This was all an illusion. You would never get to teach at Yale again. You’d never see this apartment again. 

All of this was a lie. 

Just to show you how far her reach could go. 

Claire takes another bite of steak before she balances the knife and fork on the side of her plate. Swallowing she let’s you sit in your wallowing for only a second longer before she can’t wait any longer. 

“You want it out in the open? Let’s negotiate then. I want to give you everything. You enjoyed our life together, the parties were droll, of course. But you were making a difference, we were climbing the ladder together. You liked the power. But it was really always the game of it, the sportsmanship. So you can pretend being a Professor makes you feel fulfilled. But you and I both know that sharing a cigarette in the middle of the night as we plot the fall of a Supreme Court leader is what makes you tick.” Claire says it and leans forward, and your eyes fall to her lips, and she smiles in victory. 

The image of the seconds before dawn, where you’d fucked and made love all night. And then spent the last hours before light smoking a cigarette naked and deciding how you’d put beastality pornography on a public officials work computer…it was a form of intimacy you couldn’t ever replace. Claire would kiss your shoulder and neck as you spoke. And you’d pass her the cigarette and she’d push smoke into your mouth. And you’d share in your sin. 

That was the closest you’d ever felt to another person’s soul. 

Claire DeBella was your drug.

“So?” You can’t exactly call her a liar. You’d helped her end careers and frame innocent people. 

“So your Dr. Vidal and I spoke.” 

“Wow, you are truly vicious!” Not even a beat passes before you say it. But you are thinking of all the things you told your last therapist. You wonder what made Rio fold and tell Claire everything. Did she give your recorded sessions or just the cliffnotes? Did Rio need to be blackmailed or was it money? Or perhaps a favor? 

It wasn’t shocking that Claire did it, it was….almost flattering. If it wasn’t so fucked up. 

“Oh, baby, you have no idea what I would do to get you back. You have no idea what I’ve done to get this dinner. To have you here tonight with me by candlelight. I’ve waited over a year to sit across the table and tell you this.”

“Well, let’s get on with it then, so you can buy your next partner.” You look at the sofa for the divorce papers. 

Claire snaps then, the vein pops in her forehead and her voice booms across the table. 

“THERE WILL BE NO ONE ELSE! I WANT YOU!”

She stops and takes a breath through her nose like you’d taught her when she’d lose her temper. But you don’t let her calm down. 

“Claire, you can’t be serious!” You almost laugh at the idea. Claire’s tongue pokes out between her lips as she gains her control back. 

“I absolutely am. I’ve done terrible things to get you, and I won’t let go now. We are the same. I may be Frankensteins Monster but you will always be my bride. One cannot be without the other. You need me too.” Claire says like it’s romantic. She picks up her fork and knife once more to cut her food. 

“Do you hear what you are saying?” You lean forward as if you are at a restaurant and about to tell her to go fuck herself for no one else to hear. 

She can’t be serious. 

“You are my everything!” Claire shouts at your whisper and drops her cutlery. Threading her fingers together and putting her elbows on the table. Covering her face in anguish as if this isn’t going how she’d liked.

“No, no, you have politics.” This was always a point of tension. You hated when she called you her everything. Scratch that, you loved it, but your lack of self confidence always hated it. Because Claire lived to destroy in politics, and yet she acted like she’d throw it away for you. It was a lie, just like everything else. 

Her hands fall off the table as she regards you. 

“The kill has lost all sport. It is boring without you. If I don’t have you at the top with me, then I don’t want it. I don’t want any of it.” Claire reached across the table and put her hand out, like she needed to touch you. Like if you felt her hand you’d believe her. You glare at the offending softness she is displaying.

It’s manipulative,  you hear the doctor saying it in your mind.  You always cave from her touch, you won’t give in now.

“You don’t mean that.” You sneer. 

“Oh, I do.” The Governer retorts but retracts her hand. If she feels stung by your rejection her poker face doesn’t let it show.  

“Claire.” You bite your top lip like you just don’t know how to get out of this spider web. Not when Lady Spider herself was spinning the web faster than you can think. 

“I love you.” Claire’s voice is strong and sure. It makes your heart ache. But you refuse to let her draw you back in. This was a strategic move, nothing more. 

“No, you don’t, you love power.” You correct her and she gives a disappointed look before disagreeing with you. Her painted nails ball into a fist on the table. 

“No baby, I love you. And I’ll prove it for the rest of my days. I can be so good to you, you know that. We were good together. People called us a power couple, but they had no idea, did they? I crave you, I have gone absolutely mad in your absence. I love you baby girl.”

You wish that didn’t make you feel so good. 

“Claire.” Everytime you say her name, you want to follow it with ‘I’m leaving and you are sick and twisted.’ But it gets stuck in your throat. 

“Here’s what I propose. You come home.”

The term home made your stomach flop. You missed home. You hadn’t felt at home since the night you snuck away. 

The candle flickers and the light in the room is so dim now, no sunlight. 

No light outside at all, you felt like your life was quickly changing and you were in the audience unable to tell the lead character to not go in the basement. Not in her thin white shirt and panties, don’t go towards the killer with no weapon. 

“That’s not much of a negotiation.” You tell her, because it feels like Claire is just playing with her food now. Claire’s body responds to you, as if she feels like this is flirting now. 

You aren’t sure if she’s right or wrong. 

“You aren’t holding much of a good hand, dear.”

Those words bring you back, Claire wasn’t here to romance you. She’d always gotten what she wanted. 

“You can’t kidnap me.” You say it like you have to. Like if you say the words maybe she’ll hear it and think it’s ridiculous. Then she’ll feel shame at even having the idea. But you’d both orchestrated kidnappings for far less important reasons. 

Claire’s left hand turns into a claw on the table. Dark red nails pristine. 

Her fingers drum on the tablecloth like she’s considering how to move on the board next. 

But Claire is always honest with you, she finds it refreshing to not have to lie. 

“You are mine, I can do whatever I want, in fact. So it is up to you it seems. Personally, I’d just rather you naked, wrap in fur and diamond rings. I can see it now, just as you were. Legs wide open for me in front of a fire. I want you and I’ll leave politics, I’ll leave DC or Connecticut. I’ll beg, borrow, and steal.”

You are both quiet for a second. 

The memory of Rio’s words sing in your ear once more. ‘Don’t play her game. You have control over your own choice.’

So you say what you know anyone else would in this moment. Not what you want to say. 

“You are crazy if you think this is going to work. That I’ll just roll over and show my stomach for you again.” You push the food towards her the expensive plates and cutlery clink, and she doesn’t flinch. 

Seeming to figure you’d act out like a child. 

“I am crazy.” Claire agree’s but she continues;” I’ve killed for you. Can your college girlfriend Jenny Barkley say that? Can your Ex Wife Maya Mason say that? Can anyone claim to do anything for you the way I do? I’ve tortured and murdered innocent people for you, and I’ll do it again. Without a single hesitation. And you, your hands are just as dirty as mine. I’ve seen what you’ll do for me, you’ve ruined people before having your morning coffee. You didn’t even blink before sending them to their doom. Just to see me succeed to protect your wife.”

Claire says it like it’s romantic.

You wish you felt guilt. You couldn’t even tell Dr. Vidal all of that. It was horrible, but you had…fun.

“That was before, I’m not like that anymore.” You stated what you told yourself in the mirror every morning. When you missed it. 

Claire scoffs like you are being silly. 

“No one will ever love you like I do, the way you crave love. No one will understand your mind the way I do. And you know it, but I won’t let you have a chance to find out. You ran for a year, I was careless in giving you any freedom. Never again, that is the last time you run from me.”

You wondered if this is what Clarice felt like looking through the glass at Lecter. 

“So what, do I get a tracker under my skin? You're gonna have a security team on me at all hours?” The idea made you wet. Fuck you needed to get out of here. 

Claire pretended to mull this over. Tongue going over the front of her teeth as if she’s really considering it. 

“The tracker under the skin is a little too Fahrenheit 451, don’t you think? No, I like the other option.”She says like she didn’t prepare for this. On how she’d keep you in a cage. 

“I’m going to have a 24 hour security detail.” You repeat it like the court needs to put it on record. 

You wonder if Claire had ever taped your conversations. Just in case, in case you grew a conscience. In case you ever wanted to turn her into to the authorities. But you realize Claire had enough to end you. And perhaps she liked playing with the idea that you loved her more than you feared her. 

“No one would think anything of it. You are the vice president's lady. I want you safe. No one will know I’m keeping you safe from yourself as well.” Claire looks up like she’s brilliant. Like she was inventing a new thing right here. 

“Wow, so this isn’t a negotiation. This is a terrorist list of demands” You state it and you feel the need to be a brat.

Claire laughed and then let out a high pitched noise. It wasn’t her warm laugh, it was the one she used for people in politics she was about to destroy. You were in her cross hairs.  

“Everything is a negotiation, baby, you know that. I taught you better than that. You are too smart to play dumb. So you can pout like a brat at the dinner table, you know how I adore breaking your bratty attitude. Or you can tell me what you want. And we can really talk.”

“I want to be rid of you.” The lie stung in your mouth. Almost like a nun in catholic school had used her ruler on you. 

Claire doesn’t laugh now she regards you like one does a horse in need of breaking, and then puts the glass down. 

“Try again.” She holds more patience in her tone, but you hear that it is empty. 

“I mean it, my consent matters, no?” You know it doesn’t but Claire enjoyed the illusion. So she played along with your coyness. Her face was clearly 

“Of course, if that’s where you want to go with this. Let’s try a different method. Why my shampoo?”

“What?” You hated that she knew that. She’d gone through your fucking apartment and found your secrets.  

“You don’t love me, remember? So why our college? Why my shampoo, why do you keep your wedding dress hung up in your closet? And why did I find this?”

Claire throws your wedding ring in the box onto the dinner table and the plates clatter under it. She’s smiling with that feral look now. 

Checkmate mother fucker. 

“That’s the proof I want you still? Oat shampoo, a job you manipulated me for, and the fact I didn’t throw out some jewelry?”

You are lying and Claire doesn’t believe it’s coy anymore, she finds it irritating. So she grinds her jaw. She was fine with you being a brat it seemed, but not with you lying. 

“You really want to play it this way? I come in here with dinner and wine. I try to be romantic, and you want to do this. You need to play dirty, honey?”

You hadn’t touched your fork. Only the bites she’d fed you, the wine wasn’t drugged you realized which was wild. Maybe Claire thought you’d go with her willingly.

“I don’t want you.” You repeat. 

“Ok,” Claire takes a deep breath and tries to calm herself down, “You are coming home tonight. I have changed our security protocols. You will sleep next to me tonight and for the rest of our long lives together. Now, can you guess what comes next?”

You study her, and then it dawns on you.

“I’m not pumping out four kids for your stupid campaign to look better on posters!” You snap, and Claire doesn’t budge. She doesn’t react to your harsh words. 

“You and I will have those four children we planned, not because of a menial campaign. But because we had a life planned together, we will have it. Now I’m going to give you a chance to live out the rest of your need to be a brat. But once we leave this apartment, you will remember who you are. You are Mrs. DeBella, and you are all mine.”

You can’t believe her. 

“You actually think you love me? You know we are so toxic, why would you want any of this with me?”

Claire for the first time looks actually hurt by your words. You want to feel victory, but it doesn’t reach the parts of you you’d hoped it would. And as her jaw sets like an injured soldier, she says it low and slow. 

“You must be joking.”

As if you are the one being unreasonable now. 

“I’m not Claire.” You tell her, because you don’t want to believe her. She wanted a possession. You were bad for each other. At least that’s what the doctors told you. And you tried to remember it now, as part of you desperately wanted to take it aback. 

To crawl into Claire’s lap and kiss her face. Ask her about her day and let her fuck you until all her stress was gone. 

Claire scratches her nose, then presses her lips together in a thin line before her attention cuts you down a peg. 

“I love you more than anything. I’ve been tracking you down for a year to get you back. I watch our wedding video every fucking night and drown my sorrows with bourbon, I can’t sleep. I’ve fired more people for saying your name in my office than there are assistance in D.C.  I’ve tried to chase my sorrows with your old negligee and some sleeping pills, no luck. I can’t think, I can’t focus on my campaign or… I can’t do my damn job. Or even fucking cum in the shower. I haven’t cum since you left. You think I don’t love you? You think we are toxic? You know what’s toxic? Toxic is you waiting until I’m asleep and leaving me in MY SLEEP! You couldn’t wait until I was awake? Of course not! Because you knew I’D FIGHT FOR YOU!”

Claire grabs her empty wine glass and throws it against the floor and it smashes and glass flies everywhere. You gape in awe at her. 

Not realizing a small pieze cuts your arm. 

“You don’t know the depths that I would go for you. But you fucking will. You broke my heart. So no, I won’t be hiring a stand-in while I run for VP. Because no one will ever stand next to me, but you. You’ve scorched the earth with the memories of you, and I will never be happy again. You are my world. You are my fucking disease.” Claire says, and you can’t breathe. 

“Now let’s try this again.” Claire points her finger at you menacing,ly and you don’t back down, but your hands shake under the table, “What do you want?”

You lick your lips and try to think, how will you defuse this. Claire waits for you. But she’s rabid and she speaks out of turn. 

“You want an island? I’ll buy it, it’s done. You want to open a charity for fucking sexually limp sea turtles, I’ll give you three billion dollars right now. What do you fucking want?” Claire said, and you couldn’t believe it. 

“You’ll never let me go, huh?” You said and pushed all the morals you’d work hard for this last year away. 

“Never,” Claire shrugged like ‘it couldn’t be helped.’ “It’s out of the question.”

And you knew that Claire knew you would never make a fool out of her on stage. It wasn’t your style. You scratched the back of your neck. 

“I want…I want power again. I want an in on your power plays.” As you say it you can’t help but feel alive again. 

Claire’s face says it all. She’d won. 

“Done.”

“I want you to take a weekend off each month, no phone, no emails. You have to buy that house along the Caribbean I wanted four years ago. I get full access to open as many charities as I want. And I want to buy that publishing house. The one for queer authors.” You couldn’t believe yourself, and Claire was nodding so obediently at the idea. 

“I’m yours and it’s yours. Whatever you want.”

Perhaps Claire was lying, it seemed you had a pretty good hand. Or maybe not, but you had more power in this discussion than you realized. 

You were Belle getting the library but still in a haunted castle with the Beast. 

“I know what else I want.” 

Claire tilted her head, in wonder. 

“Get on your knees.” You said, and Claire’s mouth fell open just enough for her to take a heavy breath. 

She was always a top, well, not today. Toda,y she would beg. You wanted her to break under you. 

“Is that what you want?” Claire asks as if she’s making really sure. But she throws her napkin down onto the table and pushes out her chair. She unzips the dress, and it falls. You see her cock is semi hard already, no underwear or bra on. But she comes around to your side of the table and she drops down hard to her knees. 

You lift one foot with your heel onto her shoulder, and she watches eagerly as your long skirt rides up. 

You easily pull off your thong and throw it behind you. 

Claire’s head goes down to lick your cunt and you slap her hard across the face. Claire’s face turns to the side at the strength. 

“You fucked me up! You ruined my life! And you think I’m just going to be a good little wife? Fuck you Claire!” You snap, and Claire’s glare that she turns on you is wicked. But you take your right hand and open your pussy wide for her to see. 

“I loved my life with Maya. And you ruined everything. I was happy you know.”

The words are meant to hurt and you see it devastate Claire. 

But you touch your clit now and Claire’s face changes quickly. 

You see the red handprint across her skin, and it gives you a rush. 

She goes again to lick, and you slap her with your wet hand, arousal filling the air. It glistens on her sharp cheeks. 

“This game can only go so far for you.” Claire growls, and you shake your head. 

“No, I want you to submit. For once in your life, I want it to be clear that I bested you. That you lost the battle even if you are winning the war.” You tell her, and Claire’s face is that of sexual frustration. Like a teenager begging for release. 

But you bring your fingers to your hole and you start fucking yourself fast. Knowing it was Claire’s favorite place in the whole world.  

“That’s my cunt you are touching, You are in for a world of hurt little girl.” Claire growled, and you took your hand out and slapped her again. And she made the angriest noise in her throat. 

“You submit, that’s part of our deal.” You tell her, and something in her face shifts, understanding. She’d gone to Yale, Claire knew how to study for an exam. 

Her arms locked behind her back, and she let her cheek rest on your bare thigh. Close to your cunt but not touching. 

You’d never seen Claire submit before, and it was making you feel in control, which was all an illusion. 

“You know I did this all the time. I fucked myself without you. You are so desperate for it aren’t you? Tell me Claire.”

Claire moved to rest her chin on your thigh and look into your eyes. 

“I’m mad for you. I will humiliate myself for you. I am nothing without you. I am lost, a complete mess. You own me.” Claire said and it was so needy that you almost stopped fucking yourself from the words. 

“Fuck!” But it feels good to touch yourself and you hadn’t been this turned on since Claire was your bedmate every night. 

“You could do anything to me. Whatever you want. You can piss on my face and film it. You control me, baby. I just want you. I just want you. I’ll do anything. Just for a second in your cunt, just for one lick. You can ruin me, baby. ” Claire chants and you hate how quick you are going to cum. But it’s impossible not to. 

Claire opens her mouth and sicks her tongue out but doesn’t lick. Just to show you how low she’ll go. 

“Fuck Claire fuck!” You are losing your resolve. Claire closes her mouth to say more, knowing her words are what is making you cum, not your hand. 

“I’d let you use the strap in my ass in front of all my candidates. Put my cock in a cage. You could invite all of my cabinet, all of their wives, your colleagues and students. I’ll get on the kitchen table and you can fuck me until I pass out. Then you can draw nasty words on me. I’ll be your whore, you own me. Ruin me, baby. I deserve it don’t I?” Claire says and you are so close as you fuck your hole. 

“I love you. Be toxic with me, Mrs. DeBella. Fuck yourself, punish me. You know how much I hate not getting to touch you. Punish me! I LOVE YOU!” Claire chants intensely and it helps and you cum around your own fingers and then you accidentally fall onto the floor. Off the stupid chair. 

You shouldn’t jump when hands grab your hips but you do. 

You took a ragged breath and Claire flipped you onto your back. 

“Did you have fun?” She asks and her voice doesn’t even sound like she’d done anything at all. 

Your eyes open quickly in horror to see that Claire isn’t even fazed. She was playing pretend the whole time. And you’d bought it. She was topping you from the bottom. 

“Fuck you!” You snap, and Claire laughs and pins you under her body. You try to wiggle free, but Claire just giggles.

“I know I know but I got you good.” 

You slap at Claire, but she pins your arms. Then she kisses your jaw.

“I know you want to hate me. I actually thought you did for a minute…but you don’t. You still remember our first slow dance. You kept the locket I bought you on our first Valentine’s Day. You think this is toxic? I get it. It’s not perfect. I’m being blackmailed by a billionaire, I know it’s not sane. I pulled string in your life to trap you here…but baby.” Claire says and pulls back to look at you.

“Can you really say you didn’t miss me? The way we loved, the way I love you. That you don’t love me still? That you don’t want me?” Claire said it, and you saw her fear clear as day. And your face broke.

Fuck.

You craved Claire DeBella.

Her fucked up way of love. Who knows, maybe if your parents had held you more or not filled your life with trauma…maybe you could have met someone nice and settled down.

But she was right, you lived for manipulation and sinister ties. You missed blackmail and fancy dinners where you pulled strings. You helped get laws passed by your midnight schemes with Claire.

This last year had been…so bad.

Boring.

You hated yourself for admitting it…..you were looking at the Joker…and you wanted to jump in the vat. You would poison yourself for her. You would help her deranged plans… you’d always be her harlequin.

Claire knew you well enough to read you. 

That’s when she shifted and you felt her cock press against your entrance and it dawns on you. 

Claire had manipulated everything, and it made you feel at home again.

But you’d been out of her loop so long, you’d gotten lazy, sloppy.

And you’d let your guard down…you also hadn’t been sexually active…so..You’d not taken birth control in four months. 

“Claire wait-” You are about to tell her. But she knows, of course dhe does. 

“I know baby, I checked. No birth control in the whole place. It’s like you wanted me to bring you home.” The top Claire’s veiny cock rubs against your slit.

You get wetter, from the contact and the threat.

“Claire wait!” You shriek but she puts one hand on your throat. 

“You were so sexy in control, you took what you wanted, I love that about you. But hon, I’ve been doing it so much longer. I’ll let you do it again, though. We made a deal after all. I keep my promises. Like how I promised you four children. Well maybe we’ll have more, but at least four. No birth control, and you can imagine why I won’t be wearing a condom.” Claire teases, and she feels you gush this time and looks down between your bodies. You feel Claire’s dick strain and twitch against you at the heat and wetness of your pussy against her.

“Claire fuck-” You hadn’t been fucked since the night you left. You want to tell her to go easy on you. 

This was so fucked because you used to pretend this in bed. You’d beg her not to impregnate you and she’d push her cum inside of you. It was your own little power game. One you both loved that you’d always lost.

“I know we used to play this. But here’s the day now. Negotiation over, and so is play time. It’s time for me to breed you. Who would ever vote against our nice little family? And you’ll stop running from me. And you’ll be round and swollen from my seed. I can’t wait to put our kids in private school.” Claire said and her hand started to teach your clit. Mostly, she just missed the feeling of her fingers getting messy inside of you.

You were hot and sticky just how she liked. 

“Oh fuck-” you don’t know why you aren’t telling her no. Or rather you know why. You want this.

You want to be pregnant from Claire. You have for forever.

And you want her to make you stay, to own you.

God you needed a new therapist.

Your eyes roll back as she rubs under your clit hood.

But Claire grabs your jaw to make you look at her again.

“You know what, I know you said you don’t love me anymore. But I wanted to ask you something?”

You looked at her, scared and confused. 

“If you didn’t want me to find you, to catch you…why in the world did you turn your old phone on, baby? Was it the video? The one where I told you I’d gotten you pregnant?”

Your face turns beet read and Claire loves it. 

She’d guessed it first try…

“Holy shit, I am right. I didn’t think I would be. Yeah, that’s my favorite one too. Let’s do it now, let’s play Mommy and Daddy. You always liked that game. Who shall I be tonight?” Claire sounded so excited like this was christmas morning. 

You bit your lip til you tasted blood. 

You loved when she played with you, her dirty words drove you to hours of orgasms.

Her body is so good against yours. 

“Claire-” You gasp as she rubs your clit and you feel your orgasm. But she spits in your face, and it lands on your mouth. 

You missed this.

“No, call me by my name.”

“Please damn it..fuck me!” You hate yourself for breaking, but you can’t stand it anymore.

If Claire wanted to kill for you, to be toxic and deplorable. Who were you to say no?

Claire leans in and bites your neck and you already feel the bruise. Before she turns back in triumph. 

“I thought it would take at least another two orgasms before you started begging.” She loves to demean you, and you gush from her words. You loved her praise but something about her humiliating you made you cum the hardest.

“Please please please, I’ll be yours. I promise.” You want to cry. 

Surrender never felt this good. Your red flags were going off but your need to cum was too strong. 

Claire’s cock is moving on its own against your pussy. Like it wants attention and you two were ignoring it.

Claire moves her hands to your white blouse and whe rips the fabric and then breaks the front clasp of your bra. 

Before she bites your nipples like she wants to draw blood.

You wiggle underneath her and moan and gasp. Not sure if you want to run anymore, or ever again. 

Claire chuckles and you want her inside of you. 

“I can’t tell who’s happier, me or my cock.”

“Please go inside, I need it!”

“Dr. Vidal told me you know.”

You should be scared again, but something about Claire going to all this trouble to stalk you…..it made you feel wanted. Oh god, that was wrong.

But you sorta..liked it.

Claire must sense that because she keeps going. 

“She told me you used to masturbate to me. Naughty girl, you know I never let you touch yourself without me. But I do like the idea of you so needy and only able to get off when you watch me. That’s what the Doc said, you only could cum from CNN clips of me. That warms my heart.”

Claire is making you a moany mess. 

You gasp and grab her biceps and squeeze. 

“It was pretty cute when you tried to dominate me, I think I’m a good actress don’t you? Not as good as that actress you have a crush on…what was her name?” Claire moves her hand to your opening and thrusts three fingers inside, she hits your cervix and you quiver in pain and ache, you want it to be her cock. “What was her name?”

“KATHRYN HAHN!” You shout, knowing she was punishing you more. And if you behaved, you’d get your reward.

“Oh that’s the one, remember when you told me that. Do you remember what I did?”

How could you forget?

“You used the flogger on my back for three hours..you fucked my ass on the kitchen table…and I wasn’t allowed to cum.” You gasp and you remember the whole thing. 

Claire’s breath was hot against your skin. You felt your bodies grow a little sweat and it was fucking erotic. 

“That was such a small punishment. What do you think I’ll do to you if you run from me again?”

Images pass through your mind so fast.

You shiver in fear and arousal. 

“You are mine. If you want to see the sunlight again, you are going to have to earn it. Do you understand?”

You know she means everyday, you’ll have to prove you won’t run away. Claire had endless abandonment issues and you’d made it a million times worse.

You nodd and Claire is so delighted when your hand wraps warmly around her cock. 

“I taught you well.”

She says and you know just how she likes her cock held, sucked, and tugged.

You stroke Claire, and she tries her best not to buck her hips into you. Her cock feels so good under your hand. She’s so hard it must hurt. 

She’s all control all the time.

“After you left…I pulled all of your dirty panties out of the hamper and i fucked every one of them. But I haven’t cum in so long, how much semen do you think will fill your womb?  You think I don’t love you? I’m in ruin for you.” Claire says, and you don’t know what about all of that makes your heart bust open but you surge forward and kiss her. 

Claire moans happily and she pushes your hand away and pushes her cock into your cunt and you gasp and break the kiss. 

“You are a good girl.” Claire is on cloud nine. 

“Fuck me Daddy! I want it. I want a baby, don’t stop until I’m pregnant.” You cry out and you wish you weren’t so desperate. But you were, for Claire.

Her cock stung and stretched you but you just kept gushing around her. 

Claire grins in delight at you breaking down so easily for her.

She hadn’t even needed to spike your drink.  

You never even bought cutlery for your apartment, never got to teach again. You also never slept alone again.

But you are pregnant before Claire runs for office. But with you by her side. You tell her to make the change, and she agrees. She switched her campaign to President. 

Claire never loses. 

AO3

Dark Fic MasterList

MasterList

[slxt4chriss]

‘Sore as Hell’

Chris in a tux makes you feel so many things, but you know you’ll be Sore as Hell… *P in V, smut, swearing, short blurb, nicknames* Best paired with this song!

“You look good” she said quietly as he walked out of the bathroom. His black tux illuminating the baby hairs on his chin, his hair looking dark and messy, making her want to run her fingers through it. “Thank you baby” he smiled grabbing her hips and pulling her into a kiss. “No I mean you look good” she said grabbing his tie and kissing him deeper. “I know baby but we gotta go!” He said grabbing her ass and deepening the kiss. “You don’t look like you want to leave just yet” she chuckled hinting At the tent forming in his pants.

“Maybe one quickie won’t hurt” he chuckled pulling her closer and kissing her neck. “Chris,” she whined as he bit her neck. “Need you” she whined again. “Need you too baby” he said into her neck kissing down her body, marking her with his love. “Fuck, I love you” he said as he pulled her dress up above her g-string. “This is hot” he said pulling it to the side to see her dripping slick. “God..” he almost moaned running his fingers through it. “S-shit” she moaned as he circled her aching clit.

“Need you s’bad Chris..” she whined arching her back. “I know baby I know…” he said unbuckling his BB belt, and pulling it down to his knees, lining his tip with her entrance. “Fuckk your so fucking tight ma” he moaned thrusting into her. “S-shitt Chris’s” she slurred her words her eyes rolling back in her head. “Feels s’good” she screamed her back arching off the bed. “Yess” she screamed her orgasm approaching quicker than usual. “Chris, so so c-close” she whined biting her lip to silence her self as to not disturb the other brothers. “Shit your so hot under me like this baby” he said his hips digging into her with no mercy.

“shit s’close ma” he moaned his head falling into the crook of her neck. “Faster faster please” she moaned teasing her clit to come with him. “Oh” he groaned his thrusts growing sloppy. “Oh my” she cried as she came, harder than ever. “Holy hell” he moaned into her neck as his release pointed her walls white. “Shit shit shit” he said riding out their highs. “Holy fuck, I love you so fucking much” he sighed getting up and cleaning her off. With the towel from the nightstand. “C’mon baby let’s get out to the car,” he said helping her fix her dress and hair before walking her out to the car and giving her water. “Let’s go to the wedding!” He cheered proudly, keeping his previous actions on the down low.

God your legs are gonna be sore as hell.

Nae’s notes𝜗𝜚: God this is asssssss! Anyways much love!! Any interaction is appreciated!! Love ya!

©Slxt4chriss

[buckysgrace]

Hopscotch and the Blind Date

Closer to My Heart Single dad!Billy Hargrove x fem!Reader

Your blind date turns out to be someone you're very familiar with.

CW: Snarky comments, spitting, some spanking, light degradation, unprotected p n v sex

“You jump forward like this first,” Billy instructed, watching as Theo got confused once again, “And then you kick your legs out like this.” He took another step back, watching as Theo stuck his tongue out in concentration.

He took one large hop forward, landing wobbly on his one foot before he held his hands out to balance himself. He took a deep breath, little nose scrunching up before he prepared his next hop.

He collapsed once again, landing awkwardly on his bottom as a huff left his lips as his little legs lay stretched out in front of him.

“Good try,” Billy chuckled as he knelt down next to him, holding onto his sides before he lifted him onto his feet again, “You did better this time.” He told him truthfully. He was getting the hang of it, his balance just wasn’t quite there yet. 

“It’s hard,” Theo whined as he dropped his head into the crook of Billy’s neck, “Dis sucks.” He proclaimed, making him laugh as he carried him back to the starting square. He balanced him on his hip, pointing out how his feet moved as he began to jump through the squares.

Theo giggled loudly, gripping a hold of his shirt tightly as he did his best to watch how Billys feet were moving. He chuckled and gave him a little bounce at the end, figuring they could work on it more tomorrow.

“Great.” He mumbled, sighing underneath his breath as he spotted Tommy heading in his direction. He’d been ignoring his calls, hoping that he would forget about the whole thing. 

“So,” Tommy’s grin fell as he approached, “You’re wearing that?” He stopped shortly, roughly as he stared at Billy. He glanced down at himself, looking at his jeans and shirt. They were slightly worn, but it was still nice. 

“What’s wrong with this?” He asked seriously, accepting the help as Theo pushed his hair out from his shirt. Tommy scoffed as he gestured to all of him. 

“You’re all sweaty,” He stated as he shook his head, “It won’t work. Not for where you’re going.” He mumbled as he walked up the steps, pausing for a second before Billy dragged his feet as he followed him.

“And where am I going?” He asked for clarification, gripping onto Theo as they walked up the stairs to their apartment. The smell of cigarette smoke lingered in the stairway, bitter enough to make the toddler squeeze his nose shut every time they entered it.

“Somewhere nice.” Tommy added, grinning up at him with mischief as Billy unlocked the door and popped it open. He gave Theo a big bounce before he slowly lowered him to the floor, smiling at the giggles that he let out. 

“Nowhere fancy.” Billy warned as he looked back at Tommy, grumbling as he thought about what he was going to get forced into. As of today he’d never been in a tux and he certainly wasn’t starting now. 

“Not dressed like that.” Tommy scoffed as he smacked his palm against Billy’s shoulder and shoved him forward. He rolled his eyes, following him into the room as he began to tear through his closet. Theo followed behind curiously, blue eyes twinkling as he helped Tommy come to a conclusion on what he should be forced into.

“Do you have to go?” Theo pouted his lips out as he held onto Billy’s leg, sighing deeply as he rested his cheek against the slacks that they had somehow found buried underneath all of his jeans and shorts. 

“No,” He said seriously, “Do you want me to stay? I’ll stay.” He picked him up, feeling like their minds were already made as he threw his arms around his shoulders. They were staying in. This was a dumb idea anyways.

“No, no, no,” Tommy shook his head as he took Theo’s hand, “He needs to go. Do you want your dad to end up with like thirty cats?” He asked seriously, watching as Theo thought about it. 

“Yes.” He said with a nod of his head, grinning at the thought. In his defense, he really liked cats. 

“Okay,” He paused for a moment, “You’re not helping.” He sighed in exasperation, resting his hands on his hips as he turned his gaze towards Billy. 

“You heard him,” Billy shrugged his shoulders, “He doesn’t want me to go.” He said as he kissed Theo’s cheek once again. His opinion came first, before any of his friends. 

“You’re just looking for an excuse,” Tommy pointed at him roughly, “C’mon, Theo. It would make your dad happy.” He pressed his palms together, pleading softly as Theo’s expression relaxed. 

“Weally?” He asked as he looked back at Billy, his soft finger resting against his cheek. He poked him gently, eyes narrowing as he inspected him. 

“No-,” Billy began to protest, knowing that he was completely fine being single. He didn’t have time for anybody else either. HIm and Theo were fine. 

“Yes it would,” Tommy interjected, giving Billy a severe look that silenced him. He exhaled deeply, closing his eyes as he shook his head, “C’mon, Theo. Please?” He asked softly, pleading as Theo considered it. 

“Otay,” Theo said at last, sighing dramatically as he reached for Tommy, “Can we get a kitty?” He asked curiously a second later, giggling softly. Billy sighed as he brought his hand up to his head, glad that he’d at least be able to drink tonight. 

“Sabrina,” You huffed, reaching around blindly as she led you to the table, “I don’t think a blind date really consists of this.” Your shoes dragged against the floor, nearly taking you out before she balanced you out once again. 

“No,” She laughed from behind you, “But it’s fun on my part.” She added mischievously, making you roll your eyes as you wondered how you got here in the first place. Your first free night and you were going to be spending it with some stranger, when you would’ve certainly preferred to be on your couch in your pajamas with a bowl of noodles on your lap. 

“This is humiliating.” You whined, thinking of how badly your feet hurt from being at the mall all morning. You’d tried on so many dresses that you almost couldn’t remember what you were wearing. 

“His friends are doing the same,” She reassured you, patting your shoulder and jerking your hand back so you could grip the chair. You plopped down slowly, exhaling roughly, “And here he comes.”

“Right now?” You asked worriedly, listening as she gave a sound of confirmation, “How do I look?” You questioned her blindly, trying to search where she was standing. 

“Like a million bucks.” She reassured as she squeezed your shoulders, keeping your head tilted forward. You reached for the blindfold, only to be swatted away by her hands. 

“Fuck-,” A raspy voice cursed in front of you, making you jolt as the whole table shook, “That was the fucking table.” He cursed, leaving you alarmed as you wrinkled your nose up. Why would Sabrina think you’d want to date someone with such a potty mouth? Still, something about him felt familiar. 

“Oops,” Another guy spoke up, his voice a little higher pitched, “Uh there you go. Perfect.” You listened as the chair creaked from the rough way the guy sat down. You felt a little less tense suddenly, hoping that the two of you could laugh off your dumb friends. 

“This is fucking dumb.” The one with the raspy voice continued to state his opinion, grumbling as you suddenly grew nervous. Okay, maybe he was more upset about this than you were. 

“Your date is right here,” The other guy laughed nervously as if to remind him, “Okay, I’m just gonna-,” He trailed off, leaving you in confusion until you felt hands against your blindfold.

It fell at the same time his did, your eyes meeting the familiar blue eyes from across the table. Your jaw dropped as you took in Billy’s neat hair, his stunned expression and flushed cheeks. You turned to Sabrina, about to argue with her before she took slow steps away from you. A safe distance.

“Steve, you bastard.” He snapped his head around, anger knitted onto his features as he reached out like he was going to smack at him. The other guy, Steve, ducked before he rushed away. But he didn’t make it far. He tripped, or became too top heavy as he fell head first into a waiter’s tray full of several drinks. 

“Should we help him?” You asked in horror, bringing your hands up to your mouth as you watched the way his friend squirmed on the wet floor. He was covered from head to toe in whatever drinks he had knocked into. 

“Asshole deserved it,” Billy mumbled, “What’s a little more head trauma to him?” He questioned himself, snorting as he pinched at the bridge of his nose. 

You glanced away from his soaked friend, turning your attention back to Billy fully. As much as you were irritated, and betrayed, you couldn’t deny that he looked good. Like really good. His shirt held onto his shoulders nicely, showing off his broad edges. Majority of the buttons on his shirt were undone, revealing his warm skin and toned abs. You turned away quickly, pretending like you hadn’t been drooling over him.

“I’m kidding.” He shook his head, still irritated as he popped a menu open. He sat back in his seat lazily, stretching his legs out between yours. You shifted a bit, pressing your knees tightly together to prevent him from touching you.

“You’re staying?” You asked in disbelief, sure that he would’ve taken this opportunity to get up and walk away. To leave you to wallow in your own disappointment. It was your own fault anyways for thinking that Sabrina would actually listen to the type of guys you liked. 

“He gave me his card,” He replied with a little shrug of his shoulders, “Where’s the expensive shit?” He flipped the menu around, still clearly frustrated as he looked over everything. 

You snorted, unable to really help yourself as you brought your palm up to your hand once again. You did your best to keep from touching your face, not wanting to smear your makeup that you had worked so long on. He drifted his blue eyes up from the menu, looking at you inquisitively.

“What?” He asked as he sat the menu down on the table, leaning forward and resting his elbows on the table. You took a deep breath, unsure of how he didn’t think this was funny. It was an obvious set up, for a reason you didn’t understand. You were fine not dating anyone.

“It’s just no wonder that Theo gets confused about bad words.” You said calmly, blinking slowly at the way he narrowed his eyes. You had obviously struck a nerve, but it was also the truth.

“Nothing wrong with expressing himself,” He repeated as he chewed on his bottom lip, “And your humor just sucks.” He challenged you as he leaned forward, cocking an eyebrow as he waited for you to strike next.

“What do you mean?” You asked him in disbelief. You were hilarious. You had a classroom full of toddlers to prove it. They loved your jokes and remarks. 

“Kids cursing is hilarious.” He said in a matter of fact way, his lips curling into a grin as you sat back in your chair. You shook your head for a moment, trying to figure out why you two were arguing about this. 

“And the daycare doesn’t allow it,” You grinned sweetly as you pulled your menu open, “Sorry about that.” You remarked as you shook your head, unsure of why you were scanning the menu and not leaving. You should get up and leave.

“So everyone has sticks up their asses,” He nodded his head as he rubbed his chin, “Good to know that you don’t do it on purpose.” He sighed softly, briskly as he tapped his fingers against the table. His rings gleamed against the light from the restaurant as you felt a laugh burst free from your lungs. You quickly covered your mouth, ignoring his curious look as you continued to laugh.

“Sorry,” You apologized, wondering where on earth your waiter was at, “That comment about the cursing was out of line too. But you do have a potty mouth.” You said seriously a second later. He looked at you surprised, like he couldn’t believe you were apologizing. You had clearly gotten off on the wrong at some point, but you couldn’t recall where. 

“I guess you don’t always have a stick up your ass,” He mumbled as he tapped his fingers against the table, “You’re not so bad right now.” He admitted as he languidly dragged his eyes back towards you. 

“Thanks,” You rolled your eyes at his answer, figuring he’d have something snarky to repeat, “I think I’m just going to go.” You replied a moment later, feeling a little awkward to be sitting here with Billy of all people. You suddenly felt far too overdressed as an uncomfortable feeling set over you. 

“Why?” He asked dryly, almost sounding bored as he twisted his rings around his fingers. You stared for just a second too long, just to confirm that none of them were wedding rings. 

“Do I really need to explain?” You asked him as you tilted your head, furrowing your eyebrows at his need for clarification. You thought that the two of you hating each other was a good enough fact. Why would you want to have dinner with him?

“This doesn’t have to be a date,” He chuckled as he watched you, “You got something better to do?” You watched the necklace dangle over his golden skin, making your body warm as you straightened your shoulders out a little bit. You would not ogle at him. 

“No.” You admitted as you slunk back into your seat. You chewed on your bottom lip, trying to figure out what he was playing at. The last time you’d seen him he had basically accused you of stalking him. And now it was like he was convincing you to stay. 

“Might as well stay then,” He shrugged his shoulders, “Besides, Steve is paying for whatever you want.” He grinned, waving the card in the air before he motioned the waiter over. You debated it for a short second before you relaxed. Perhaps it wouldn’t be too bad. 

And it wasn’t. For the most part. Just a smidge awkward, too tense as you both did your best to avoid really talking to one another. Part of you wished that you were on a real date with someone that you really liked. But you couldn’t deny that Billy was nice to look at, even a little funny if you were being genuine.

“I don’t know if I’ve mentioned it but uh, I like your dress,” Billy spoke up, eyes twinkling from the warm lights as he slid Steve’s card back into his wallet, “You look really nice.” He told you a moment later, leaving you a little surprised. 

“I can tell,” You replied as you shook your head, “You’ve been looking at my chest all night.” You remarked playfully, speaking the truth. There had been more than one occasion that you had caught him staring. It made your skin buzz as electricity traveled through your veins and left you unnaturally warm. 

“You can have your tits out for money but I can’t compliment them?” His tone was sarcastic but brash, leaving your jaw dropping at his rude remark. His smile dropped instantly, as if he knew he struck a nerve. 

“You-,” You huffed, suddenly feeling humiliated as his words settled on top of you, “You’re unbearable.” You told him seriously, teeth gritted as you rose from your chair. Anger boiled against your bones as you marched out of the restaurant, unsure of why you had given him the benefit of the doubt in the first place.

“It was a joke,” He rounded on you quickly, legs keeping in pace easily with the way your shoes were snapping against the concrete. You held your fingers into fists, trying to control your rage, “You can’t really be that sensitive, can you?” He took a hold of your arm softly, tugging you back to face him.

“You’re an asshole,” You spit out, shoving at his shoulder as the rage boiled over and spilled out, “You dickhead. Bastard. Imbecile. Nincompoop.” You spit out all of the words that were brewing on the tip of your tongue. 

“Is that all you’ve got?” He asked, lips curling into a gentle smile, “Because I’ve heard a lot worse.” He replied with a nod of his head before his smile turned into a smirk. You inhaled deeply as your arm burned from where he had touched you. But not because of how hard he was gripping you.

“I hate you.” You snapped at him, suddenly sure that a career change would be no issue as long as you never had to see his face again. His eyes widened for just a moment before his expression turned stoic, hiding away whatever he was feeling. 

“I’m not crazy about you either.” Came his remark as he narrowed his eyes at you. You both stared at each other intensely, the air around you full of energy and tension as you stood toe to toe. You could practically feel his warmth from where he stood, could smell the mint that lingered on his tongue. 

The electricity from his palm on your skin spread across your skin, traveling through your body as your chest rose and fell heavily. His eyes were fierce as he looked over your features, mirroring what you were doing. It took you a brief second to look at the soft freckles on his golden skin, at how his lips seemed to be red and soft. Too soft.

His hand traveled up the curve of your arm as your heart hammered roughly inside of your chest, hard enough that you were sure it would leave bruises. His eyes were suddenly too intense, too real as he tilted his head towards yours.

Your thoughts disappeared at the feeling of his mouth crashing against yours. His lips glided smoothly, deeply as he moved his large palms to cup your face. You sighed against his parted lips, accepting his rough kiss as you moved your lips with as much fury.

It was messy, full of spit and teeth and tongue as you gripped his wrists tightly. You wanted to pull him closer and shove him back at the same time, unable to really decide as a fire spread through your body. You felt like you’d melt away, drip into the crevices of his fingers as he flicked his tongue against yours.

“Your place?” He whispered as he pulled away, nose brushing against yours oh so lightly as he flicked his blue eyes to meet yours. You breathed in deeply, feeling as if you were sharing the same lungs as you quickly nodded your head. You lived close.

The walk, or rather jog, to your apartment was rushed and quick. His hands were everywhere, caressing your exposed thighs and gripping at your flesh. You felt breathless, laughing with wobbly legs as you tried to blame it on the glass of red wine you’d downed. Surely that was it.

The door barely shut behind the two of you before he was on you again, lips caressing and melting against yours as you blindly led him to your room. His hands palmed at your ass, at your boobs before he moved them back up to your face. 

He gripped the back of your neck, tugging you closer as his mouth crashed roughly against yours. He kissed you deeply, stealing the air from your lungs as his hands moved to the back of your dress. He roughly tugged your zipper down, letting your dress fall at your feet as he continued to drag his lips against yours.

Your mind felt fuzzy, knees weak as his calloused palms fell to your hips. He gripped your flesh, earning a soft sigh from your mouth as he flicked his tongue across your bottom lip. You moaned as he slid his tongue inside, curling and twisting it against your own. Pleasure swept through your body, your veins burning as if they’d been lit on fire.

His hand rose to your jaw, gripping you softly as he tugged you away briefly. Just a few inches. He stared at you, lust swimming in his blue eyes as he observed you. You were grateful for his touch on you suddenly, fearing that you may fall to your knees if he didn’t have a hold on you.

You felt your heart beating roughly underneath your skin, pounding against your bones as he dragged his thumb across your bottom lip. You were still partially dressed, but had never felt so exposed before. Something in the way he looked at you left your skin tingling, left your mind foggy. 

You didn’t have time to react before he spit, literally spit against the side of your mouth. You flinched, feeling the saliva drip down the side of your cheek as you gasped in surprise. You knew you should feel disgusted, feel horrified. But you didn’t. 

You flicked your tongue out against your cheek, licking away his drool slowly as his eyes turned lustful at your motions. You felt your own moan pouring off of your tongue from the sinful act, the dirty action. His spit tasted like nothing but you still craved it. 

You lept first this time, pressing your lips against his mouth in a desperate manner. Lust filled your veins, spreading through every inch of your body as you moved your hands to his warm chest. You fiddled with his buttons blindly, trying to remove it as quickly as possible before you combusted.

He moved his hands down with yours, breaking his lips away from yours as he quickly tugged down his pants and underwear in a quick motion. Your eyes widened as you stared at his toned body, breathing in every inch of him before you landed upon his hard cock.

His tone was slightly lighter than the rest of his body, his tip a bright red as you admired the rest of his girth. Your throat suddenly felt dry as you reached forward, wrapping your fingers loosely around his thickness.

“Fuck,” He cursed, surpsing you as he spoke for the first time. You lifted your gaze to him, eyes feeling heavy as you tightened your fingers around his girth and began to stroke him slowly, “Jesus.” He breathed out, spurring you on as you fell to your knees.

You ignored the way your pulse was racing, focusing instead on how good he felt against your skin. You continued to pump him slowly, sticking your tongue out to flick away the precum that was leaking from his slit. 

He huffed, groaning softly underneath his breath as he stared down at you. You continued to teasingly lick across the head of his cock, too nervous to actually look him in the eye. It would feel too real if you did so. 

He was almost too thick for you, at least thicker than what you were used to. Your lips burned as you adjusted to his girth, your jaw aching as you slowly began to bob your head along the curve of his cock. You gripped a hold of his thighs, keeping yourself balanced as you did your best to keep from gagging once his tip hit the back of your throat.

You swirled your tongue along the base of his cock, tracing the vein that rested there as drool fell from the corners of your lips. His groans of pleasure traveled through your ears, leaving you restless as you felt your clit vibrating in anticipation.

“Wait,” He mumbled, drawing your eyes up towards him for the first time. His eyebrows were knitted together in awe, lips parted as he moved his hands gently towards your shoulders. He shoved you back a bit, releasing his hard cock from your mouth as you just continued to stare. He was so pretty, “Wanna feel you.” He breathed out as he held onto the back of your arms and tugged you onto your feet.

You had never felt someone so strong before, gripping you in such a way before he pushed you onto your mattress. You yelped, your air leaving your lungs once again as your bed moved underneath your weight. He smirked, all cocky and smug as he joined you on the bed.

His fingers were hot against your skin as he dipped them in between the swell of your boobs. You were sure he could feel your heart thumping roughly as he gently traced his fingers across your ribs to reach for the straps on your bra.

You sat up on your elbows, knees bent as he pressed his way in between you. His mouth lingered near yours, leaving your mind fuzzy as you listened to the very loud click of your bra coming undone. 

It fell off with ease, drifting off of your shoulders as his lips fell to your exposed collarbone. You dropped your head back to the pillow, inhaling deeply as he trailed his mouth across your skin. He kissed across your boobs, licked at your hardened nipples before he traveled further down.

His air was warm against your clothed cunt, hot as he looped his fingers through the bands of your panties. He tugged on them, tearing them in two and leaving it as he pressed his fingers against your skin before he exposed your cunt to him. You gaped, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth as he pressed his lips against your swollen clit. 

He languidly flicked his tongue across your wet folds, pushing a squeal out of your mouth as you felt a bubble of moans forming inside of your chest. Your toes curled at the sensation, shivers spreading across your skin as he rolled his tongue across your clit. 

“Billy,” His name bursted free from your lips, the pleasure spreading through your body with fierce electricity as his strong palms fell to your hips. He groaned against your slick cunt, sighing at the taste of you before he pulled his head up to look at you, “Please. I want you.” You whispered softly, almost afraid that it might get to his head. You didn’t want to stroke his ego too much. 

“Bet you do,” He grinned cockily, sealing your worried thoughts as he delivered a brief smack against your pussy. You whined at the jolting sensation, your hips pathetically grinding up against his fingers as he crawled back onto his knees, “You’re such a desperate little whore, ya know that?” He asked, making your eyes widen as he tapped his dick against your clit.

“Mhm, yeah,” You spit out in surprise of yourself, gasping as he rubbed his free hand against your lips. You tasted yourself briefly, feeling a little stunned at how filthy his mouth was, “Just for you.” You nodded your head, gasping as he gripped your thigh and spun you onto your hands and knees.

Your mattress felt odd in this position, with your ass in the air and your face pressed roughly into your pillow. He squeezed lightly at the base of your neck, earning a soft moan from you before he tickled his fingertips across the curve of your spine. You inhaled once, then twice before he smacked the side of your ass.

“Billy,” You huffed out, enjoying the stinging sensation that traveled from where his palm had landed, “I need your cock. Please.” You begged again, whining as you kicked your feet against the side of the bed. You hushed once again as he hit the other side of your ass, making you whimper.

“Such a dirty girl,” He whispered, shifting closer until your thighs were pressed together. You were unable to breathe suddenly as his fat tip pressed against your leaking hole, circling it playfully before he was sliding into you, “Pretty little whore.” He mumbled as your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

Your walls stretched around his thick girth, clamping down tightly around him as he slid in slowly inch by inch. You inhaled a second later, sure that you only pulled him deeper inside of you as his hands moved tightly to your hips.

“God,” You whined pathetically, mind too fuzzy with pleasure to form any real words, “Billy!” You mumbled, gaping as he bottomed out inside of you. You could feel him throbbing against your wet walls, the head of his cock pressed right against the spongy area deep inside of you. You could feel every curve and vein of him, admiring how it felt like he belonged inside of you.

He chuckled, his tone slightly broken up by his groan as he leaned down over your ass. You stuttered, drool falling from your lips at the angle he pressed his cock into as he moved your hair from your face. You blinked lazily, barely able to whimper as he licked the saliva away from the corner of your lips.

“See,” He mumbled as he dug his fingertips into your flesh, sending another jolt of pleasure down to your clit, “It’s not so hard to be nice, is it?” He asked, breath warm against your skin as you shook your head no.

“I’m nice,” You pleaded, fingers curling into fists as you slowly began to rock yourself back against him. You moaned deeply, craving the sensation of his cock dragging in and out of your walls. You’d never felt so stretched before, felt so full, “Real nice.” You nodded your head, moaning as he spit against the side of your mouth again.

You didn’t care how dirty it was, how filthy he treated you or that he called you a whore. You’d never felt such pleasure before, such a rush in your system. You truly felt full of life, your mind relaxed and heart full as he began to grind his cock in and out of your glistening hole.

Small moans and whimpers left your mouth as he dragged you back against him, your skin smacking against his at the rough way he pressed his cock inside of you. The tip of his dick hit against your bundle of nerves each time, making you whine and cry out as your pussy leaked around him.

“Fuck, fuck,” He cursed, fingers reaching around to press against your clit as he rutted inside of you, “You look so pretty around my cock.” He hummed, leaning back enough to get a good look at the way your cunt squeezed his fat girth. 

You felt numb as he continued to rock himself deeper and deeper inside of you, hitting your bundle of nerves with each intense thrust. He moved to your ass, kneading your cheeks before he spread them. 

His spit hit your rim, making you a jolt in awe as shivers raced up your spine. You cried out, your moans bouncing off of the walls as his spit trailed down to your already wet cunt. He groaned loudly, deeply as he continually hit the spot that made you see stars. 

“Feels so good,” You breathed out roughly, eyes rolling into the back of your head as he fucked the bitterness and angry feelings out of you. You couldn’t remember why you’d been upset in the first place. All you could focus on was the way your pussy burned as he slid his hard cock in and out of you, “Oh my God.” You spit out, raising a bit on your elbows to push yourself back further against him. 

He groaned, filling your ears with music as his balls smacked against your slick skin. Whines burst free from your lips to match his deep sounds, meshing with the sound of your cunt squeezing along his cock. It was too much. The pleasure crashed over you in an unbearable way, pushing you underneath the waves as your toes curled and muscles contracted.

You came with a cry, the flat part of your feet smacking against the mattress as he continued to drag you roughly against the length of his cock. Your moans came out in thick garbles, drool pouring from your lips as you forced your eyes shut.

“Jesus Christ,” He huffed, pulling you back faster against him as his movements became more desperate. You could feel him twitching inside of you, throbbing as your walls clamped down around his girth, “Fuck, fuck!” He spit out before he removed his dick entirely, leaving your walls clenching around nothing as he jerked his hand along his cock roughly.

You felt his warm spunk landing on your ass, on your spine and up near your shoulder blade as you tried to catch your breath. You whimpered at the feeling, enjoying the sound of his breathless moans as he dragged his fingers across your skin.

He turned you again, treating you as if you weighed nothing as he gave you a smug grin. Your chest was still rising and falling harshly, mind muddled as he smeared his cum against your lips. It took you a moment to realize that before you licked it away, savoring his taste on your tongue.

Your eyes felt hazy, droopy as you licked it away from your lips. You felt your heart pounding in a new way as an unknown sensation spread through your body. His forehead was near yours, nose dragging against the tip of yours as you shared the same breath. 

Well shit. 

Tags: @cassandracorvo @marshmallowgem @shes-an-odd-bird @stormy-stardust @highwaywildflower