#this took me and partner FIVE FUCKING HOURS

[1zashreena1]

Step 1: . . . ohhhh I fucked up

Step 2: ???

Step 3: W O R L D D O M I N A T I O N

[devilfruitdyke]

i love when my parents talk about me when they think i cant hear them 🤑🤑

[supercutszns]

twin beads | luke castellan

wc + pairing: 6.7k, luke x daughter of poseidon! reader

synopsis: you’ve been unclaimed for five years. you’ve loved your best friend even longer. the sea used to be your greatest solace, but after percy jackson comes to camp, it’s your cruelest reminder. (based on this ask!)

warnings: best friends to lovers <3, percy/reader sibling dynamic, fluff and angst then fluff again, hurt/comfort, shameless making out. sorry this one is so long but besties to lovers is my lifeblood!!! i get so attached!! designated song is true blue by boygenius:)

i. you said you wanted to feel alive, so we went to the beach

“Ahoy, sailor!”

The familiar voice ricochets across the lake. You turn, leaving glimmers of sun behind you as you stare back at the docks of Camp Half-Blood. An orange blob with a curly mop of hair is beckoning you. You laugh, wave back at him, and plunge into the water. It cools your face after staying above the surface for so long—you just love watching the light reflected off the waves. But the second you’re under the water, the soreness in your muscles, the heat on your face, the exhaustion from treading for so long, are washed away from you. You swim with precision and vigor, relishing the feel of the river cupping your limbs to spur you forward. Not to sound lame, but you fucking love swimming. 

But maybe not as much as you love your best friend. 

He laughs when your head pops out of the water at the edge of the dock. “Wow, that took you longer than usual,” he teases, brown eyes glinting in the dawn. “You getting sloppy?”

You huff, splashing some water up at him but it barely touches him. “I’m tired, you moron. I’ve been out there for an hour.”

Luke leans down at the edge of the dock, offering you a hand. His face is bemused when you latch onto him, and with a good flex of his bicep he pulls you up. “All right, c’mon,” he grunts.

All your energy evaporates the second your body’s out of the water. You’re far too lazy to be graceful, so you sprawl out onto the dock like a dying fish, letting the sun kiss every inch of you. “Eww,” Luke giggles overtop you, prodding your side with the tip of his shoe. “Get up, you mermaid.” 

“Make me, you mailman.”

Your arm drapes over your eyes, and you sigh. There really is nothing better than these moments; droplets of water soaking into your skin after an early morning swim, your best friend right beside you. 

He keeps nudging you with your shoe, over and over until your ribs start to hurt. You groan, swatting him away and stretching out your limbs with a groan, letting them pop and relax, until you blearily make your way to your feet. 

“You forgot your towel again,” Luke condones, but like always, he’s brought one for you. 

He goes through a practiced routine of drying you off, wrapping the towel around your shoulders and down your arms, across your back, scrunching the water out of your hair. It doesn’t matter how cold the water gets—this part always makes you warm. 

“Thanks,” you smile as he hands the towel off to you. “Anything interesting happen this morning, O Captain, my captain?”

“Not yet, sailor, sir,” he replies in a stuffy, gruff voice the two of you have joked around with since you were kids. “Just grabbing you for breakfast.”

You giggle, following him past the docks and to the shore. Once you’ve grabbed all your stuff, you both fall in stride and head towards your cabin, your twin five-beaded necklaces hanging over your shirts. 

Five years ago, when you got to Camp for the first time, you were as big a loser as any. You were bad at everything—everything—and had no real friends until you accidentally whacked some other friendless loser in the head with an oar when you were about to go canoeing. Luke got mad at you, but his little sister Annabeth was even more furious. He offered to be your partner for the day anyway. You’ve been partners ever since. 

Over the years the two of you have grown in status at the camp, more so Luke than you. He’s an excellent cabin leader and by far the greatest swordsman in camp. You, still unclaimed, have found solace in giving younger campers swimming lessons and wading out there on your own till you get sunstroke. (It’s happened a few times. Luke is never pleased, but also refuses to let the Apollo campers take care of you. He nurses you back to health with ice cream and horrible gossip.)

But every night you return to the Hermes cabin with a hollowness in your chest. One bunk emptied, then immediately filled. You’ve had the same one for five years, and the only condolence is that it’s right next to Luke’s, and sometimes you spend hours at night making faces at each other till your laughter endangers other people’s sleep. 

Yes, you love the water at Camp Half-Blood, but you love Luke most. 

Rumours of a new kid are rustling at camp. You haven’t seen him, but you’re just dying to get in on the gossip. Apparently he slayed a minotaur. Apparently Annabeth has seen him. And apparently he’s unclaimed. You hate to admit it, but this is the most exciting news you’ve heard in weeks!

Your afternoon is spent giving some swimming lessons and taking some Demeter campers canoeing. (Some of them freak out on the water. so it’s a nice challenge to untangle the sea plants they get hooked around their boat.) It feels like you’ve been here forever. A break is in desperate demand right now. 

You have no idea what kind of God heard your prayers, but your fellow counsellor has an unimpressed look on her face when she taps you on the shoulder and goes, “Your friend’s calling you.” 

The way she says it is almost degrading. You turn to look back at the shore to see the dark curly hair you’d spot a mile away. Next to him is a much shorter orange blob, shuffling awkwardly as Luke attempts to flag you down. Score!

You shoot an apologetic look at her. “Uh … I’ll be right back.” You wince, already disposing of your baggy orange shirt (it’s Luke’s) with your bathing suit underneath. 

“No you won’t,” she says dryly. “Just go.”

You flash a smile you hope is loaded with charm, and you’re off into water. As you swim, the only thing on your mind is I really really hope that’s the new kid, and I wonder what Luke’s face looks like right now. (He’s probably grinning, eyes crinkled at the sides as he tries to follow your figure beneath the waves. Maybe he’s doing that cute thing where his head tilts to the side as he watches.) 

When you’re close enough to the shore, you come out of the water, wringing your hair. “Hey, guys!” It’s Luke, Chris, and some blonde kid you’re sure is the new one. “What’s up?”

Luke is about to say something, then he frowns. “Where’s my shirt?”

“Left it in the canoe, I’ll go back for it later,” you reply, limply gesturing behind you. 

“And where’s your towel?”  

“Okay, I did bring one this time!” You counter. “I just gave it to a little Ares kid ‘cause she forgot hers.” 

Luke clicks his tongue, shakes his head at you, but of course he’s got one in his hands so what’s the worry? He’s endearingly amused when you take the cloth and dry yourself off, and the new boy, having watched this all raptly, widens his eyes and drawls, “Ohhhh, so you’re his gi—”

“This is Camp’s resident mermaid, Percy.” Chris butts in, adding your name almost as an afterthought. 

After you fasten your towel around you, you’re put off by Percy’s scrutinizing stare. “Look, it’s been a pretty weird day so I cannot tell if you’re joking or not.” 

“I’m not a mermaid,” you snipe, throwing Chris a dirty look. “People just call me that because I give swimming lessons here.” You stick your hand out to the blonde boy. “Nice to meet you, Percy.” 

He gives a polite nod, a little awkward. “Right back at ya.” The two of you study each other as you shake. He’s young, probably about twelve, a smatter of freckles across his face. His eyes look like the lake. Something itches in the back of your brain. There’s a moment where the shake is suspended, neither of you have let go but are no longer actively holding on, and you see it in his face that he’s studying you, too. Huh.

The conversation continues as normal, but you almost start to feel queasy for a second. “We’re trying to find something Percy’s good at,” Luke says with a pat on Percy’s shoulder. “You got any ideas?”

“Yes, please, because I really would like to have a word with my father,” Percy clips. “Is Glory, like, purely a skill thing or can I get some if I tie someone else’s shoes or something?” 

“I don’t have shoes,” you add unhelpfully. 

“It’s okay, dude,” Luke squeezes Percy’s shoulder. “Camp is great, no matter where you end up.”

Even if you’re like her, he means without saying. Even if you don’t end up anywhere. 

You meet Luke’s eyes. This is a kid that wants so badly to meet his father, to ease the ache inside him. You are the absolute worst person for this. One of the longest current unclaimed streaks and your ache remains. To Percy, you’re the biggest example of a failure there is, and Luke is only just now realizing it. 

“Maybe try the infirmary?” You pipe, shuffling back and forth on the sand. “You might have a knack for medicine.”

“Doubt it,” Percy swallows. “But yeah, okay. Who’s your parent, again?”

Percy can’t see it, but Luke and Chris send you a shifty look and all you can do is widen your eyes to be like, Help! Don’t make me crush his dreams! I don’t want another kid to hate me! 

You swallow. No matter how fast you think, you cannot come to a logical sentence. “I, uh—”

Just then, in another stroke of luck (wow, that’s two more than usual) an Athena counsellor that looks insanely disgruntled is running towards you. “Stolls put spiders in our cabin again,” he heaves once at a stop. “Please get rid of them.”

“Can’t you just squash ‘em?” Percy asks. 

“Not the spiders, the twins.” 

Chris is already nodding, but Luke looks to you first. He’s anxious, disappointed. You wish you could smooth out the creases in his brow with your thumb. “Don’t worry,” you stretch out a smile. “I’ll chill with Percy. It won’t take you guys too long.”

He’s still hesitant. You’re not sure this is a good call either. But he reaches out, quickly squeezes your shoulder and mutters, “Thank you.” Your skin feels gooey when he touches it. 

His signature roguish smile returns as he looks back to Percy. The side of his face is shadowed by the sun so well it makes you jealous. “Don’t give her a hard time, eh?” He reprimands playfully. 

Percy smiles a little. “I’ll try not to.”

You are once again reminded just how easy it is to love Luke. How effortlessly he moves into your heart. It happened to you after you slapped him with an oar. It’s already happening to Percy.

You’re sure he won’t like you nearly half as much. 

After Luke and Chris leave, Percy resigns to staring out at the campers canoeing on the lake. Maybe now is a good time to admit you’re not good with kids. Luke has tried many times to make you his welcome partner, but you can’t take to the role nearly as well. You’re perpetually antsy. And sweaty. 

“So, what cabin are you a part of that lets you do this all day?” Percy asks, squinting against the sun. 

Your heart gets heavy. With a sigh, you sit yourself down, and Percy soon follows. “Hermes, actually,” you say as casually as you can. 

Percy goes pale as a sheet. “Uh, what?”

“I’m unclaimed,” you clarify. “I don’t … I don’t have a parent.”

There’s always a pitiful pause whenever a camper figures that out. This one is somehow … clunkier. “Oh,” Percy says. “Oh. Okay, that makes sense. For a second I thought—phew.” Then his eyes trail down to the thread hooked around your fingers, the five beads you run your thumb over. “How long have you been here?”

“Five long, blissful years,” you hum dryly. 

Water ripples over pebbles on the shore. Every new camper’s ambition is eroded by the truth you represent. Percy’s no different. His brows furrow and his face falls. “And you’ve never been claimed?” He asks, and you can feel the noxious mix of pity, confusion and despair laced beneath it. 

You shake your head, watching some Demeter kids splashing each other’s canoes with their oars. “Nope. But it’s not so bad. I like my cabin, you know? I like my life. Doesn’t really matter who your parents are anyway, I think. You do the same activities as everyone else, just on different teams.”

“But doesn’t it make you mad?”

“It used to,” you shrug, “But not anymore. It’s just …” You sigh, rolling a bead against your thumb. “If I’m unclaimed, I’m unclaimed. That’s the way it is. You can’t force the Gods to do anything.” 

“That’s what Luke said,” Percy remarks, almost bitterly. 

“I’m a rare case though, Percy,” you half-lie to him, nudging him a bit with your shoulder. “You’ll get claimed. It’s your first day. And until then you’re kind of free to be whatever. You don’t have to fit into anything, which is kinda nice, and you can screw around as much as you want and nobody can really get mad at you ‘cause you’re new.” A smile rises on your face. “And I heard you killed a minotaur, so you’ve already got some cool points.”

His face screws up in a grimace, and it makes you laugh. “Oh joy, cool points. Can’t live without those.”

Okay, maybe you’re not bad with kids. Maybe you’re just bad with boring kids. Because this is going decent, right? 

“What if I don’t get claimed, though?” Percy asks after a moment, a vulnerable note eclipsing him. It resonates inside your chest. You pause for a moment, heaving a loaded breath. 

“Do you fart a lot in your sleep?”

His melancholy pauses. He looks at you like you’ve grown another head. “Uh … what? No? I think?”

“Then you can take the bunk above mine if you want. It’s empty now,” you say. “And if you’re never claimed you can come swimming with me, and we can find seashells to put under Luke’s pillow every night until he starts thinking they’ve always been there.”

Percy blinks. “Do you have any friends?”

“Yes, and I’m going to torture him until I die. Cabin eleven is oodles of fun, Percy, you’ll see!”

He looks a little horrified. “Luke said I was going to like you,” he mutters. “I … am not sure if he’s right.”

Oh, well. You’ll take it. 

ii. you can't help but become the sun

You can’t sleep, and Luke knows it. His eyes burn into the side of your face as you stare up at your bunk. You sneak him a look. He smiles ruefully. Sweeping his arm up from beneath his covers, a makeshift tent is formed next to him. He nods to you. Before you know it, you’ve abandoned your own bed, taking a single step until you skirt into the pocket of his mattress Luke has carved for you. He lets the sheets fall, cocooning you with him the way he always does. 

You’ve been sharing beds on occasion for years. One of you gets cold, has a nightmare, or wants to talk until your mind fades out, the only solution is a place next to each other. Whispers against cheeks, giggles muffled into pillows, necklaces knocking together. You used to be further apart. Now you can’t remember the last time Luke hasn’t latched onto you the second you’re within reach. It warms you a little more each time. 

When your head hits his pillow, the two of you just stare at each other for a moment, lips pursed in amusement. His face is so wildly nostalgic to you—five years seems like too short a time to have known him. His eyes are pitch-dark and soft with exhaustion, but you can still pick out the trademark Hermes mirth glimmering through. You sometimes forget his scar, probably because you know he wants you to forget it. He’d kill you for thinking this, but you kind of like the way it hugs the curve of his cheek, bunches up when his dimple appears. It makes you sad. It makes you happy. It makes you love him. 

“Percy likes you,” he whispers, opening himself up so your chin brushes his shoulder. “That’s a first.”

He’s only wearing a tank top to sleep, so his warmth seeps through his skin when you tap him on the chest. “Shut up!” You hiss back, tapering into a giggle. “Has he picked up on anything yet?”

Luke bites the inside of his cheek, regretfully shaking his head. “Nope. But all that skill stuff is kinda arbitrary anyways. He’s still hung up on kleos, though, so … that’ll come in handy for Capture the Flag.”

“Ah, yes. Using a child’s misguided need for fulfilment as a weapon. A camp classic.” 

“Well someone’s gotta be useful for Capture the Flag in this cabin and it sure as hell isn’t you, mermaid,” he barbs back. 

Your jaw drops in mock offense and you squeeze a hand around his shoulder to shake him. “I will put you in a headlock right now, Luke, I’ll break your arm—”

“Be quiet!” He giggles as you attempt to wrangle yourself on top of him. “I’ll be nice to you, I’ll be nice, stop!” You get absolutely nowhere before the bed creaks and Luke shoves you back down. Your pulse rattles through your mouth as you laugh silently. “You’re the worst,” he mutters in your ear, raising the hairs on your neck.

“Well Percy likes me, so,” you turn your nose to the sky like a haughty old lady. 

“Percy’s a funnier, less annoying version of you,” he pokes your side. “That’s how I knew you’d get along, you weirdo.”

The momentary adrenaline this conversation has brought you is mellowing. “Hey, I’m very—very funny,” you mumble through a yawn. 

Luke laughs quietly. “Sure you are.”

He pulls you back to him, arm slung around the dip of your waist. When you make no protest, he seals you against his shoulder again. It’s started to feel a little different, him holding you like this. There’s an uncertainty your body faces about how to respond. His thumb runs over your spine and you decide to relax into him, pressing your face into the crook of his neck. Your chin knocks against his collarbone and you have the urge to curl yourself against his chest, just to feel him breathe. 

“Get some sleep, sailor,” he murmurs, fingers brushing through the roots of your hair. You don’t think he realizes he’s doing it. Your cheeks warm, and you bury yourself even further into the space against his shoulder and his pillow. Gods, there’s something wrong with you, isn’t there?

“Will do, soldier.” The campy voice you do is half hearted at best as you find yourself absorbed in the closest thing to a full home you’ll ever get. In this sleepy hollow with bedsheets and a boy, there is acceptance. 

Well, mostly. You think you dream about Luke brushing a kiss along your hairline in your last bit of consciousness. You think you wish it was real. You think you want him to do it again.   

iii. when you don't know who you are, you fuck around and find out

The last time your cabin lost a game of Capture the Flag, you’d still been taller than Luke. That’s how long your winning streak has felt. There’s no reason you foresee that changing today. Even when Annabeth drags Percy along with her on whatever surely precarious quest to victory she’s created. It’s unlike her, to bring a newbie along. It’s concerning. 

“He’s fine,” Luke drawls to you when your face has been tense for twenty minutes. “Annabeth’s got a plan.” He’s a little winded after clearing out some Ares kids with Chris. You aren’t much use when it comes to weapons—your friends take the lead as you wait from a distance, ready for backup. Thank the Gods they didn’t need it this time. You’re content to just watch, but whenever Luke grins after getting another kid to surrender, veins in his arms raised like rivers on a map, you get a little distracted and you’re not sure why. 

You just huff back at him, totally normal when he wipes a sheen of sweat off his jaw. “Annabeth’s gonna use him as cannon fodder,” you mutter back, and Luke hits your arm with an appalled grin. 

Annabeth did, in fact, have a plan. So you won. Obviously. 

You’re still doubtful Percy wasn’t cannon fodder, though, with how beat up he looks on the shoreline when the rest of your team flocks to the stolen flag to claim victory. He’s slumped down on the rocky shore, a few equally beaten Ares kids straggling away from him. 

“So I was right, huh?” Luke hums in your ear, pulling your eyes to him. 

He’s revelling in newfound glory, and damn it, you get confused when you look at him when he’s like this. You’re not sure when it happened but you want to tear your heart out of its chest because of how sick it makes you. Some of his curls are stuck to his forehead with sweat, his hair suffering a serious case of helmet-head. But it’s the pride oozing off him, the infectious happiness laced through his smile, that makes you fond of him in a way you’re not sure you should be. He’s beloved for a reason—he looks almost prophetic after winning a match, and he knows it. A glaring difference between the gangly boy you met all those summers ago. If you weren’t his best friend, you’d probably be one of his many admirers, watching his teammates fawn over his talent and wishing you were beside him. 

But you are beside him. And you’re his friend. Not an admirer. So everything’s fine. 

“You wouldn’t be saying that if we lost,” you retort, knocking your chestplate against his. It’s meant to be a friendly nudge, but Luke leans into it until you swear you feel his heart beating through the metal. 

He’s grown into his smile, less boyish and more wry. “You know I never lose, sailor.” 

You want to reply, but his eyes are startlingly pretty in the sunlight. That’s normal. Whatever. A heat rises in the apples of your cheeks so you scoff lightly and turn away as soon as possible. You feel Luke’s gaze following as you turn attention elsewhere. Your sternum feels fluttery.

Percy catches your attention again. Gods, he looks beat. He’s talking to Annabeth as she helps him up, and you see the gnarly scrape marring his cheek. You should probably check on him, right? 

You’re halfway to the kids when Annabeth shoves Percy backwards into the water. Like, shoves. 

“Annabeth!” You’re scowling at her the same way she scowled at you when you first hit Luke with that oar, rushing over to help Percy. 

“What is wrong with you?” Percy sputters out lying in the lake, but you’re ankles-deep in the water before you know it. He’s glaring daggers at Annabeth, but she looks relatively unimpressed. What happened during this game? 

“Thanks,” Percy mutters as you help him up. 

You say something to shrug it off but you can’t remember what, because your eyes are drawn to the scrape on his cheek. You have to blink a few times to get it, but you’re pretty sure it’s dissolving. Vanishing off his skin. “What the hell?”

Everyone on the shore is watching him now, trying to memorize his injuries before they wash away. Percy’s staring down at himself like he’s just been body-swapped. “I don’t understand.” 

You’ve never seen anything like this before. The strangest feeling fuels you—your bones feel firmer somehow, like the blood inside your body has weight to it. Like something is happening. A fear pierces your gut. 

Annabeth’s eyes have raised, and so have Percy’s. Your mouth goes dry. Right above him is the symbol of a trident, radiating so blue it washes out the sky itself. 

The claiming symbol of Poseidon. 

“Your dad’s calling,” Annabeth says, a smile itching the corners of her mouth. 

Percy looks like he’s going to pass out. You probably do too. “Told you you’d get claimed,” you manage to squeeze the words through the knot in your chest. 

You’re smiling until Percy looks at you, then looks up. His face goes white as a sheet. Or, as white as it can bathed in a pale blue glow. “Uh…” He blinks slowly, and your stomach twists. “I think she was talking to you.”

When you look up and see an identical trident looming over your head, you know something’s wrong. It’s made worse when Chiron rings out your and Percy’s name, branding you as children of Poseidon. 

Poseidon. 

You have a father. And he’s known you all this time. Your ears hollow out like a rush of water in a cavern.

Luke is the first to kneel. The rest of the camp follows. You watch as the entire camp basks in the glory of newcomer Percy Jackson, so quickly claimed by one of the most powerful Gods of Olympus. And you, who has waited five years to earn even a shred of his favour. 

This thing you’ve wanted for so long is suddenly the greatest insult in the world. Your best friend can’t even meet your eyes. 

iv. i remember who i am when i'm with you

You stare at Percy as he unpacks his things. Waiting to see traces of yourself in his face, traces of your father. Anything that could give you an inkling of what he looks like. Of what you look like. Of how this happened in the first place. 

It’s a futile search. Percy’s blue eyes, his freckles, the bridge of his nose, they’re all … nothing. Half of you is half of him, but there’s no indication of which parts. The cabin is cold. You’re not going to sleep well without Luke nearby. You’re not going to sleep well ever again. 

You feel nothing but strife, your throat closing in every time you take even a second to think. You don’t want Percy to see you cry. So you do what you always do. 

This has to be in the running for most overwhelming day of all time ever. Even when submerged in your favourite place on earth, you can’t get away from your dad. Your dumb stupid dad that has made the things you love and has ruined your life. 

You swim hard, and you loathe how good it feels. At least you know why now, but that doesn’t do much to ease you. When you pop up again, the sun has started to sink into the sea. And Gods, you have to give your dad credit. The landscape is so gorgeous you almost forget how long he’s ignored you. 

You wonder if this is the last time you’ll find solace in the lake. If eventually, it’ll be nothing but an extension of your father’s neglect. 

The water ripples around you. You frown, barely having noticed it when someone taps your shoulder. You turn. “Luke?” You swallow, but why are you surprised? 

He’s panting, cheeks splotched with sun as he treads water, droplets worming down his face from his soaking curls. “Been looking for you,” he puffs, “Percy’s worried. Called you from the—from the thingie but don’t think you heard me.”

You assume he means the docks, but you don’t say anything as he takes a deep, grounding breath. “You’ve been out here for hours. Hours. For a second I thought you drowned.”

“Now we know that can’t fucking happen,” you mutter a touch too bitterly, staring down at your legs warped beneath the water. 

Luke’s silent as he watches you. “…Have you been crying?”

When you don’t reply, Luke tugs on your wrist. “C’mon, sailor, let’s go.”

“Not tired,” you say, frozen by the hot tears brimming on your lashes. 

“I’m not leaving you out here. Come on.” He frowns when you yank your hand away as he tries pulling you again. “You’re gonna get heatstroke.”

“I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not.”

He reaches for you again and you try to reject it for a moment, but he’s stronger than you, and he loves you better than even the water could. The second he has you close your resolve falters. He holds you against his shoulder, knees knocking against yours as you tread. 

“It’s okay,” he croons when you involuntarily start to cry. For a Poseidon kid, you can’t seem to control your waterworks. “It’s okay, I know.”

His hand cards through your scalp and you relish in the warmth of his bare skin on your cheek. He smells like comfort. You cling to it with all you have, until your nails start to dig into his skin and your eyesight blurs. 

“Come back with me and I’ll dry you off, okay?” He kisses the top of your head, the way you dreamed it last night. “I’ll take care of it.”

You’re not sure which it he’s referring to, because it could honestly apply to anything. When you both set off for shore, you’re so distracted by your own misery that Luke’s actually able to keep up with you. He’s up on the dock before you so he can pull you out. 

The second you’re out of the water you feel like you’ve been gutted with a lead pipe. All the energy it gave you leaves, and you realize just how right Luke was about spending too much time out there. You can’t feel your legs. 

You buckle over almost instantly, but Luke holds you before you can even think of falling. “I’ve got you,” he assures, guiding you down to sit on the dock. Your eyes are too weak to even admire the sunset. Luke drapes a towel over your shoulders, rubbing it over your arms, a welcome familiarity. He takes his time, wringing your hair and drying your back as you gaze blankly ahead. There’s a tenderness to it now. Luke’s ruthless when it comes to a lot of things. When it comes to how he loves, too. But there’s nothing demanding here. He lets your tears fall in silence, undisturbed, the touch of his hands through the cloth a silent promise. 

When you’re fairly dry, he fetches something then quickly comes back. “Here.”

It’s his shirt. You only notice you’ve been shivering as he pulls it over your head, lets you fill in the sleeves, gently gathers your hair back. “Thanks,” you say. His fingertips brush your neck as he hooks them around your necklace to rest it over the shirt. You think he does it to remind you you’re still the same. You’ve had five years together. It doesn’t have to end now. 

“Why did it take him so long?” You struggle to say, eyes glossed like sea glass. “Why—why now? What did I do?”

Luke puts an arm around you. “I don’t know,” he mumbles honestly. 

You sink into his warmth like a wave meets the shore. “Five years, Luke. He ignored me for five years. And he takes Percy right—right away.” It’s hard not to choke between every word. “I just thought I’d never get claimed, and I was fine with that, and now I’m … this!”

Its hard to tell if the dampness of your cheeks are the remnants of saltwater or your tears. “I don’t want this,” you sniffle. “I waited so long … and I just don’t want it.”

Luke rubs your shoulder, lips pursed against your head. He murmurs into your hair, “I know, sailor. It’ll be okay. Promise.”

His voice is reserved. You look up at him. His jaw is resolute, his eyes red-rimmed in a way you hadn’t noticed before. “You’re upset too,” you comment quietly. 

He laughs listlessly. “Yeah, of course I am. I’m losing my favourite cabin mate.”

You sniff and try to smile. “Percy?”

He rolls his eyes fondly, and it feels like all you want. He squeezes your shoulders tight and you long desperately to be closer. “I just don’t know what I did wrong,” you whisper, pressing your cheek into him. “Why didn’t he see me until he saw Percy? Am I just … unremarkable or something?”

“No, no. Absolutely not—c’mere.” Luke loops an arm around your waist and manoeuvres you into his arms, cradled on his lap so you can bury your face in his neck. You can’t stop fucking crying, but his patience for you is infinite. “You are by far the most remarkable person I know.” He seals you against his chest, scratching your scalp the way he knows you like. “None of this is you, okay? Your dad’s an idiot. You are—you’re everything. They’re all mindless up there, they don’t know how to love you. They don’t deserve to.”

An edge seeps into his timbre that gives you pause. You feel weak, discarded. It sounds like he’s talking about a different person. But he’s right. He has to be, because he knows you better than you know yourself.

Luke keeps going. You peek at his face when he speaks. Stubborn as ever. “He doesn’t have any fucking right to you. If he wanted that he should’ve claimed you when you got here. You have a life. You … you had a home. And now just because he’s got another kid he kills two birds with one stone? He pretends like this is some Godly intervention? Like he didn’t ignore you the whole time you’ve been here because he couldn’t stand how much you didn’t need him? How much better you are? You’re my …” He struggles, brows furrowed, the sun melting in his eyes. “You’re my best friend, and we’re supposed to be together. He’s not allowed to take that from you.”

Your heart stirs. “Sounds like you’re jealous,” you try to tease.

Luke heaves a sigh, his muscles rippling against your chest. You’re suddenly aware of the fact that he’s got no shirt on. And that he’s pressed against you in a way that makes you question if you should be this close. Beads of water cling to the divots in his skin, and you linger a little too long on one nestled in his collarbone. You swear you think this every time he goes swimming with you: when did he get so … hot? And every time you think it, you want to gouge your heart out with a spoon. 

“Can you blame me?” A melancholy smile plays on his face. “I liked having you all to myself.”

Tears spring to your eyes all over again. “I liked that too.”

It’s a whisper that sends you forward, Luke bringing his forehead to your own, and you want to live in the warmth that coils through you. His nose catches against yours when he laughs, but he doesn’t move. You take a moment to savour it. You think he does too.

He wipes a tear off your face as you say, “I’m still yours.”

“Yeah?” Luke hums a bit, his hand sliding up your waist in a most unfriendly manner. “How?” 

You catch the glimmer in his eyes, that plucky smile he’s had since fourteen. Something shifts.

“What are you asking me, Luke?” You can’t fight the smile. 

“What do you want me to ask you?”

“I dunno, what do you want me to want you to ask you—”

“My Gods, you’re a pain in the ass.”

He groans, throws his head back, and kisses you like you aren’t the most annoying person in the world. 

It’s so cliché, but for a brief moment your strife is well worth it. You yank him closer before he pulls away. It’s a little unsure, the two of you so used to toeing the line, but soon you’ve given in and your hands are in his hair, mouths parting, and it’s messy and wanting and everything you need. 

Luke slips his hands beneath the hem of your shirt, palms flattening against your sun-beaten skin. It feels so good, better because the shirt is already his, a whine scratching your throat as he moves up so his thumbs graze the skin beneath the tie in your bathing suit. 

“Oh, sailor,” he coos against your mouth. You want to retaliate but it’s lost when he squeezes your thighs, warming you in all the right places. It’s hard to understand this is even happening—it feels like you’re underwater, a blissful fuzziness growing in your head entirely at his mercy. 

He razes kisses down your still-damp neck, catching pearls of water on his tongue. You cling to his shoulders, raking your hands down his back just so you can feel more of him. Luke’s dropped down to your collarbone at this point, tugging the neck of your shirt down as his teeth graze the bone. “You’re my best friend,” he mutters over your skin. “Still mine. Always mine.”

“Mmhm,” is all you can say back, the husk in his voice making your eyes screw shut. He teases a spot so sensitive you groan and laugh at the same time. The regret is immediate, but you feel a chuckle pass his lips, too. “Luke,” you purse a smile. He dots kisses back up your neck until you start returning the favour. 

You kiss his jaw, a few spots on his neck, feeling the flex of his muscle all around you as he squeezes the fat of your hips. You finally sweep up the water in the hollow of his collarbones, and his grunt of your name makes you, frankly, delirious. 

He brings your mouth back to his, skin sticking to each other. It’s harder to kiss as fervently when you’re both giggling against each other’s tongues, running fingers along the planes of each other’s bodies trying to see which places feel new and which are known from memory. It’s a fifty-fifty split, and you love it. 

Somewhere along the way he peeled off your shirt because it was clinging in places you knew he wanted, but now you’re panting and giggling into his hair, his nose pressed into your neck, both of you melded together with salt and sun. “You really know how to cheer a girl up, mailman,” you grin. 

His lips fix to your skin. “Really? You’re still gonna call me that right now?”

“Yeah.”

“Like it better when you call me captain,” he murmurs, nose grazing along your pulse. 

You swallow, “That doesn’t work unless we’re doing the whole sailor-ship bit.”

“We’re always doing the sailor-ship bit.”

“I seriously can’t believe I’m in love with you.”

He sighs warmly at the words. “You have no idea how much I’ve been dying for you to say that. Even though I knew you would.”

You roll your eyes as he presses his forehead to yours, and you’re more glad than ever that his face is the one you love so much. It’s a pretty great face. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” he says tenderly. “You’re too incredible for Poseidon. You’re worth more than that.”

He still looks gorgeous blurred by your tears. You listen to the beat of his heart and the waves rolling. “More than any water anywhere?”

“More than the fucking Styx, sailor. I’ll promise you that.”

That night, Luke stays with you and Percy in your cold chapel of a cabin. You exchange stories until Percy falls asleep in his bed, curled up like a sea otter. “He’s a drooler,” Luke notes fondly, eyes flicking to yours. “Like you.”

You shove his chest playfully until he wraps his arms around you and anchors you to sleep, like every night before. This time, as you drift off, he kisses your forehead again. Once because he loves you, and twice to make sure you know it’s real. 

luke taglist: @sunniskyies @apollos-calliope @lillycore @sunny747 @m00ng4z3r @pabkeh @thaliagracesgf @theadventuresofanartist @bonnie-tz @ash-williamsss @sucker-4-angst @kitkat-writes-stuff @too-deviant

let me know if you want to be added to the taglist!

[sideblogofhell]

a forbidden fruit

summary: pietro eats something he shouldn't have pairing: pietro maximoff x male reader word count: 1.1k warnings: 18+ warning, s3x pollen, blowjobs, unprotected sex a/n: part iv have fun do leave comments if u liked it

masterlist | the repentant's corner

Pietro dashed around the lot sixteen times to make sure no one was there. You rubbed your hands together for some heat against the chilling night. The grass crackled beneath your feet trying to chase after your partner. You ended up a panting mess next to him, your knees shaking. 

“So I was thinking, after this patrol maybe we could go out sometime?” he said, his breath unwavering. You gulped and tried to let out a word, your voice dry and coarse. You nod, sweat dripping down your forehead. 

“Can you focus?” you said, trying to open the door. He broke open the warehouse padlock with ease, vibrating at a pace that dislodged the gears that kept the lock secure. 

You slide the rusty door open into a dark room. Pietro used a flashlight to look into the path. The warehouse was small, almost the size of a barn, the floor a flat grey concrete, the walls tall and rusted. There were a few broken wooden crates scattered all over the floor, a metal table on the farthest left. 

Your partner zoomed into the room like a faint blue flare. He checked to see the contents of the crates, all seemed empty.  He sat on the metal table, a few newspapers sprawled out and a white dish used as a makeshift ashtray. 

“Look at this,” he pulled out a small ziplock bag filled with different sugar-coated candy like Skittles. He takes one out and puts it in his mouth, licking the sugar off his fingers. You took the bag from him, smelling the contents; sweet and fresh. “Want one?”

“You idiot! I don’t think this is candy,” you took the bag inside your pocket, Pietro smirking. “We have to send this to the lab.”

“It’s fine, fast metabolism remember?” he shrugged. 

The plane ride back to the compound was quiet. Pietro sat away from you and kept to himself, which was very unusual. He would always try to bother you while you flew the quinjet, always teasing and messing around, but right now he was slumped over to the side using his phone. 

You arrived at the compound a few hours later, the airdock marshalls taking over the jet. You asked other agents to rush to Dr. Cho’s lab to send the candy samples. “Pietro and I found this on patrol tonight,” you gave the pack to her assistants before they went on to test the samples. 

Your phone dinged to a message from Pietro. Meet me in the conference room at 4B ASAP. 

“Fine, I’m an idiot,” he said. “My dick has been so hard for the past five hours and I can’t make it go away!”

“Your what?” you looked at the tent in between his legs, his knuckles were pale white as he gripped onto his pants. “Well I knew it was a drug but I didn’t know it was that kind!”

“What are we gonna do?” he said, his silver-gray hair all tousled over his forehead. He zoomed around and around the room, a cobalt blur blew gusts of wind everywhere he went. He stopped in a corner, his legs shaking and his face flushed. 

“We?” you clamored. “How the fuck am I supposed to help?”

“I don’t know you’re smarter than me!” his eyes widened, his voice shaking, sweat dripping down his forehead. He braced for another run but you held onto his arm. He shuddered, his skin was hot. 

“We should tell Dr. Cho,” you said. “Get you medicine or something.” 

“Absolutely not,” he pleaded. “It’s embarrassing,” his eyes wandered all over the room as if the answers were written on the walls. “We should deal with this the way it's intended.”

“Yeah, no,” you said before turning for the door. Pietro suddenly was in front of you blocking your exit. 

“Please draga—“ his lips were dead set. Pietro was an ill-tempered man, his demeanor was quick like his abilities, charismatic but also stubborn. You thought for a second, you’re helping a co-worker that’s all right?

“Well, how do we do it?” you said. He removed his jacket, and his blue shirt underneath. You marveled at his taut chest, the ridged cuts across his abdomen, and the two lines pointing down his sex. You tried to look away, but you couldn’t believe someone could look like that, like a Greek sculpture. 

“Come here,” he said, pulling you into a kiss. His lips were warm against yours, his stubble pricking at your cheeks. Your hands find his chest for stability, snaking around his neck to pull him closer. His large arms circle around your waist, finding the hem of your pants and going through to your ass. 

He spun you around and pinned your hands above your head, using his other hand to pull your pants down. He smoothed his palms on the plump mounds before giving it a spank, leaving it a red blush. He practically rips his pants open, his thick cock hard and leaking. He spits on his free hand, using it to prepare you. 

“I’m gonna go in okay?” he said in a whimpering tone. You nod, your cheeks warm. He spits again to lube his cock before feeling the pressure on your hole. It was sharp for a bit, the pressure easing as he flushed himself in, the base of his cock hitting your ass. He stops for a second, relishing the heat from your body. “So tight—”

You grunted when he pulled out, only to thrust back in. He began to fuck you at a languid pace, the sensation soothing the tingly feeling Pietro got from the drug. He tried to go slower, to make sure you won’t get hurt but he couldn’t. As you tried to move your hips at the same beat of his body he started to—vibrate. 

You let out a gasp, you thought of the toy you had at home, the one you use thinking about him, but the speed and intensity could not rival him. Pietro let out a series of cusses in Sokovian, it sounded like he was pleading to a god. Your knees turned wobbly from his thrusts, his body vibrating at a pace that made your eyes roll back, your own sex hard and leaking in your trousers. 

“Pietro—fuck,” you moaned.

“I can’t control it, you’re too warm,” his words shaking. “And good,” He let go of your hands, shifting to your waist, he gripped so hard you knew it would bruise. He moved quicker, like a piledriver into you, it stung but the pleasure of hitting your prostate compensated. 

When gripping onto your waist wasn’t enough, he wrapped his arms around your body hugging you, and began to thrust into you harder, his silver hair plastered on his forehead wet. Your body tried to keep you up but your legs betrayed you. You fell down, his cock pulling out. “I can’t stand.”

He pulls you to the table nearby, propping you with your legs on his shoulders. He lines himself back into your hole driving back into his thrusts. The vibrating began again, shaking the table as he gripped it on its edge. You let out desperate cries, he tried to soothe you by kissing your lips, drool dripping from the corner of your mouth. “I’m close—” he cried out.

You nodded, the constant stimulation to your prostate was going to make you cum untouched. His thrusts became erratic, still a vibrating mess. Pietro stood up and you marveled at the glistening sight, his abdomen contracting and relaxing on each thrust, his head pulled back and his lids closed. 

And then the climax hit, cum shooting inside you in thick, your own release spewing on your belly. The vibration slows, Pietro a panting mess for once, a side of him you’ve never seen. He places a peck on your lips and mouths praises. 

“So about that date?”

[undercoverpena]

1. tie the knot

javier peña x f!reader* | chapter one of let us pretend

summary: peña has been back in Texas for all of five minutes, thinking he wants a simple life. but, when steve offers him the chance to gather information on a potential new player, he jumps at the chance. the only problem is, to do so, he'll need to go undercover with a female agent—and pretend to be her husband.

wordcount: 4.6k chapter themes: fake dating/relationship/marriage, forced proximity / sharing one bed, colleagues to lovers, no use of Y/N, *female agent has a nickname (sunny) for use undercover. an: this week i am full of surprises. welcome to the world of let us pretend. this chapter might not feel different from htcu, but it is.

All he has to do is pretend. Put on an act.

It’s simple on paper. Easy. A thing he’s already a master in, something he has never found particularly difficult or hard: pretending.

Javi, after all, had had always been pretty good at concealing, at masking—

“Y’need to pretend to be married.”

Faking being a husband was a new one.

Having lived with far too many emotions for so long, it’s not hard for him to fake nonchalance.

Colombia had been his school. The place where he collected his degree—days of pretending he was okay. Hiding the fact he couldn’t sleep the horrors away, that he wasn’t falling apart at the seams. That stress wasn’t making him chain smoke and the pressure wasn’t making him sink his cock into women he couldn’t save.

He picked up his doctorate when he returned home. When ranch life had felt so fucking dull it made him want to pick the smoking habit back up, just for something to do. When he saw boats that made his insides twist, but found he had to wear a smile. Hiding, as expertly as he could, so he didn’t bristle each time someone called him a hero—when all he wanted was a drink, a fuck or a newspaper.

Mostly, Javi had become a master in squirrelling away the fact he saw every minute of the hours at night, feeling nothing short of relief when his alarm chimed so he could get out of his homemade prison.

Bluffing had always been a skill of his. But, this, this was new to him. His bluffing had never required him to wear something shiny on his left hand and—

“And, Jav. Try not to fuck her.”

He’s not surprised that Steve heads up a department in Miami—or that he’s happy and content.

From the moment the two of them reunited, he took in the glow on his old partner’s skin (the one he strongly suspects isn’t just from the sun) and listened as he heard short (in Murphy’s opinion) stories about his daughter growing older.

Javi couldn’t relate—not that he’ll admit it. Just another thing he disguises. Smothers his face in what he assumes is what happiness looks like, wears it like an accessory, something akin to wearing a jacket, rather than actually feeling it.

Picking up a ring, rotating it between his thumb and finger, he snorts. “Wouldn’t be very husband-like of me, if I didn’t, would it?”

He’s nudged. An intentional elbow to the side sparks a grin as he places the ring back into its velvety spot.

Because none of them look right. None seem right—even for a fake thing.

“Fake husband. And don’t fuck this up.”

“I’m hearing a lot of don’ts and not a lot of do’s, Murphy. What the fuck is it you want me to do?”

He’s already been told, informed. Briefed.

Tricked in fact. Requested down here for an opinion, but when his worn-in soles landed in the office of his former colleague, it unravelled into something so much more.

Handed a file—one he knows everyone expects he won’t read—and given a rundown of what the operation is supposed to look like. But Javi knows better. Had known it too. Even suspects, Murphy does too.

One thing Colombia has taught him is that plans don’t mean shit, not when you’re up against an ever-evolving problem.

You don't just want me here for a consult, do you, Murph? Was hopin’ you were bored in Texas.

He suspects that’s why his Pop had given him an arched brow, an expression that was accompanied by pinched lips when he’d first mentioned it. Even his assurance that it’ll be a few days—just helping Steve out was met with a look Javi hadn’t banked on. Realising as he stood admiring wedding rings that his Pop had figured it out long before him.

At least now he understands why he got the Chucho-treatment—not quite quiet, but not quite the same treatment from him that he did the day before.

Instead, that kind of treatment that pierced itself into him, attempted to bury itself inside of him and made guilt flood through him like a poison.

Even if once before he would struggle with it, found himself desperate to apologise—make it up to his Pops—he didn’t this time. Because Javi already struggled. Already grown tired of itching for something.

So, he said nothing. Because he knows Murphy wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t need him.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Murphy closes his eyes. The same noticeable twitch in his fingers and chewing inside his cheek that Javier can relate to: the sign of a recent quitter, and one attempting to use gum as a replacement.

Needing too.

“Where is she, anyway?” he asks, shifting the conversation, suppressing a yawn.

Before he’d even got on the plane out here, he’d been tired. Already beginning to fray at the edges, sleep had already become an even more distant friend.

All of it had been made worse by the worried look on Pop’s face when he dropped him at departures. It thickened, slathered itself on his shoulders even more so when he calls him from Murphy’s office to tell him it’ll be three months.

“You managed longer than I thought, Javi.” “Pop…”

Even though he had known it wouldn't matter, he had still tried to explain it all over again. From the top. All softly, with patience—the phone receiver leaving an indent on his cheek as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Reminding his Pop that this time he was doing his friend a favour, that it was a one-time thing—a few months, at most.

It didn’t shift the tone—didn’t stop Javi from imagining the disappointed lines bleeding into worried ones, mixing with the ones caused by age. It didn't lessen the tightness over the phone, simmering in the miles of air, because they were both at a standstill in the centre of a formerly (albeit temporary) happy situation.

Sighing, Murphy drops his hand, pulling him back from his thoughts. “She’ll be here, alright.”

Javi snorts, swallowing.

Glancing back over another table, seeing other things, other accessories. Things that’ll help him blend, help the two of you blend. You and him, him and you—a person he knows the name of and nothing else.

Steve had shared that you were good, brilliant, the only one he’d trust. That you knew the work so far better than anyone.

He’d been about to begin unpicking those earlier statements when the door opened, blouse and black tailored trousers walking towards him.

It isn’t anything cliché.

Time doesn’t stop, the room doesn't silence, but something happens. Something shifts, changes—alters. Because instantly, Javi realises you’re pretty. A thought which confuses him, especially when it dawns on him that usually, it’s a woman's figure he notices and admires first, but he finds that it's your eyes that he lingers on.

And fuck do they cut into him.

Practically reach inside of him, before they go through him, digging into flesh and fucking bone.

Then, all at once, ceasefire. A chance to strengthen his façade as you turn to greet Murphy, a handshake, a sea of pleasantries. Enough chance to shove it down, whatever attempted to rise in him.

But, he swears he can still see them behind his lids. Something which makes his jaw tighten, teeth grind—

“You must be my husband,” you say, smirk sliding up into your cheek.

Your body suddenly turns to him, hand sticking out towards him, adding your name to the statement as though stamping it into the air and his body goes clammy, grows warm and makes him suddenly desperate for water, coffee or even whiskey.

Slipping his hand into yours, he’s not surprised to find that it’s soft, the right kind of warm. He’d suspected about as much from just appearances alone.

“Agent Murphy has told me a lot about you, Mr Peña.”

Running his tongue over the front of his teeth, he eyes you. “Think my wife should call me, Javi.”

Javi learns, rather quickly, that you have a nice voice.

It doesn’t grate, doesn’t annoy him—it’s informative, but there’s something else there, a playful edge, a little thing within you that hasn’t been crushed.

He remembers when he’d been as sprightly.

Rubs his forehead with the heel of his palm as he does, fingers desperate to clutch a pen, his jaw tightening as he thinks about how he could roll it in his fingers, hold it like he used to hold a smoke.

Fuck, he wishes he could chew his gum.

A thing which is slowly making him more tense.

Not that you seem to notice, too focused on getting him up to speed on the actual investigation. He’d read much of your notes before today, it was the next part he was more on edge by.

Because, whatever his earlier opinion of you was, he was getting the distinct impression you’d rather set your skin on fire than be fake married. A thing you stop trying to hide, your face displaying your disgust at it each time it is casually mentioned.

It was mandatory—Murphy’s words—for the two of you to get to know one another. A crash course, a 101 in the other. It’s told to you, that the two of you are going to be stationed in your new home for the next few weeks, starting from today. But, because they’re merciful—

“Wanted to make sure you had time to get to know one another. So, take the day—work can begin another day.”

“How nice of you, Murph,” he responds, words dipped in sarcasm. Briefly catching sight of you smirking as you study something on the table.

Javi had already imagined that—since it was recon, and more surveillance than anything else—for the most part, everything could remain the same. He learnt he was right moments later when it was confirmed his name would remain very much his own, and you were handed his surname like a gift you’d rather burn than accept.

It was you who had to surrender more.

“Y’need a new first name.”

If you were surprised, you didn’t show it. A sea of reasons given, the main one being if anyone asked around with a photo and your name, it would be easier to put two and two together. You lived here, for one.

You keep your eyes down, glancing over the table of possessions you’re allowed to borrow, to play dress up with. Fingers brushing over a watch (silver, a white face)—something haunting in your eye you’re quick to blink away when you meet Murphy’s stare.

Folding his arms, Steve sighs. “Jus’ something you’ll answer to. That can be used in public.”

Javi watches you smirk, something secretive, a hidden joke simmering between the two of you—leaving him very much out in the cold of it.

After a beat, you lick your lips.

“Sunny,” you reply, lifting your eyes, digging each syllable of the name you’re going to use into him.

“Let me guess you’re someone’s ray of sunshine?”

He doesn’t mean for it to fall out laced in bitterness, but it does all the same. His mouth tilted into a smirk, your eyes hardening as you placed down a pair of earrings you’d picked up.

“Think it’s more because of my sunny disposition.” He snorts, watching you move around the table. “It’s a family nickname—I’ve… I’ve always been called it, so, I’ll answer to it.”

Swallowing, Javi lets his eyes wander to the wall of the room.

“Alright, you two. You need to sell it, y’hear me?”

“Then we need money.” It’s short, stern, the way you deliver it, head tilted and face unreadable. “We’ll be sniffed out immediately without it. These people deal in money, not handsome faces.”

"So, you think I'm handsome?"

The roll of your eyes doesn't dispute it, not as you direct your attention back to Murphy.

Who, until now, Javi hadn't realised (with his hands on his hips) how big boss Murphy looked as he whispered fine, or how much it rather annoyed him. How it would be quite easy to give him a shove. More so when he’s handed a new phone, a set of documents, credit cards and given more instructions he wishes he could shove down his throat.

He almost gets close enough to do both when briefing ends and he’s handed the keys to the hotel suite they’d be living in—their story simple, easy:

“We have a fake house for you both being made ready as a cover story, but for now you’re both in the hotel. Prime location. Beach views, and very much in reach to the top places the targets visit.”

And, Murphy hadn’t been lying.

It did have good views, the suite was even nice—really nice.

Almost too nice for a little surveillance, a little fake marriage and a drug bust. But, he didn’t complain, barely said a thing in the ride over, or when you wheeled your own case. He even remained silent when you refused to look at him in the elevator or on the walk to the room, and even when the two of you entered.

In fact, the first words he said were: “You gotta try and look at me like you don’t wanna peel my skin off. You know, if you want this to work.”

He expects it; braces for it, the tongue lashing, an icy stare. Picturing you as the kind of woman who is already to sharpen your tools and pierce him with them when he blinks. But, you don’t.

If anything, Javi watches in slow motion as your shoulders sink, your cogs turning before your expression softens.

“You’re right—I’m… sorry.”

Biting the inside of his cheek, he nods. “There’s one bed.”

“Well. We can sleep in the same bed, Peña. We’re adults. However, for your sake, I’m going to put a pillow between us.” Your eyes sweep over him, cold, drowning him in a chill. “Two actually.”

“You a cuddler, or something?”

Smiling, you sigh. “No. The pillow is so that if you roll over all sleepy and desperate for some affection, I won’t have to cut you. Because if you touch me, that is what will happen.”

“How are we meant to sell we’re in love if I can’t touch you?”

“Oh, out there, you can touch me. In here, no.”

His snort rumbles from his chest. Tugged up, wrenched from some cobweb-filled depth, as you smile. Nothing big, nothing life-changing, but a start—the beginning of a level-playing field.

“What kind of touching, cariño?”

Jaw tightening, you smirk—but it’s cold.

He suspects you’re used to charm. Easily able to disable it, switch it off, unfazed by his gaze or the edge of his words. If anything, you seem really fucking bored of it—something he’s not sure if he admires or despises.

“Nothing like you used to pay for, Peña.”

Before he’s even recovered, he learns that you take things seriously.

Your bag opens, pulling out a notebook—upside down cursive etched over a page, your eyes scanning over it, before you ask if he’s ready. He’s barely able to ask for what, when you begin firing things at him.

Favourite food. Comfort film. Where did we meet? What song do you sing in the car when I’m not around? Are you allergic to anything?

The list goes on, and on. The more things continue to run out of your mouth, the more he begins to admire you—to settle into some comfort that you want to do this properly. That you’re going to take it seriously too, something he wants.

Needing it to matter.

Needing to have something work out easily, not have it all end for nothing.

The only time you pause is for a dinner—room service, his treat and his choice. A way of providing proof that he’d been listening, paying attention—somehow wanting to prove something to you, even if he’d known you for only half a day.

“So, how did Murphy get you on this?”

He studies the way you cross your leg over the other, the base of your heel tapping against the carpet—all very much guarded, on edge.

“You can tell it’s my first, can’t you?”

Javi smiles, making it softer purposefully. “A little.”

“He said you were good,” you sigh, placing your napkin down. “I assume I was chosen because it was easy. Y’know, than someone with… higher priorities. Plus, I already know the case. Guess it just made sense to send me.”

Nodding, he watches as you avoid his sight, focusing instead on the swirls in the carpet. Something ticking in your pretty little head, it forcing your nostrils to flare, for your jaw to tighten—and he’s watching it happen, practically feeling the air around you begin to vibrate from it all.

“M’not gonna let anything happen to you, Sunny. You know that right?”

That does it. Further digs in the hatred you’re feeling tenfold because the use of your new name makes you flinch. And he knows, like he had suspected earlier that it means more than just a name. Especially from the look on your face.

At first, your expression is soft, almost mask-less—no walls, no defence. Then, like magic, it shifts. It drapes down, rebuilds, and suddenly there within seconds, the same expression he’s been working with since introduction.

“I have heard how you take care of the women who work with you.”

Picking up your drink, and stirring the straw, you let your eyes meet his. The small wooden table suddenly even smaller—the large suite, suddenly constricting in a way he hadn’t expected so far.

“S’not what I meant.”

“I know.” It’s curt, your reply. Clearing your throat, you snort, “You are handsome. I can see why you did so well. And, I might not need to say this, but I need you to know I like my job, and I don’t require that kind of care.”

Rubbing his jaw, he sighs. “That so?”

“I have something that can help with that. It doesn’t talk. It doesn’t need to remind it that it’s ‘so big’, and it doesn’t need me to call it baby. It just hums—politely—and makes my thighs shake. I just need you to be with me in this.”

He snorts, draining the rest of his glass. The ice clangs just before he places it back down on the table. “You bring it with you, your something?”

Licking your lips, your mouth slides into your cheek. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Steve had told you his credentials—how he worked, how smart he was. How easily he was able to decipher a read on someone.

He did also mention much of Peña’s backstory—including his rich history with the opposite sex. A thing you hadn’t wanted to let escape out coated in catty and wrapped in bitchy. And yet, it had all the same.

You did want to get on with him, you admired him after all. Hearing the truths from Steve made the things that swirled like gossip even more impressive.

But, in all of the briefings you’ve had before agreeing to this, your boss had failed to mention that it wasn’t just the man’s tongue that got women to confess all their secrets, but his ridiculously handsome face too.

The one that keeps turning towards you—eyes concentrated in on you as though you’re the most interesting thing he’s ever had the chance to listen to.

But, it wasn’t just that. It’s that he’s quick-witted, observant, and it most definitely doesn’t help that he’s all broad shoulders and brown eyed. That, in part, you thought you could handle.

Then, he’d flirted.

On any other day, in any other place, you’re sure you’d have melted. Likely leant forward, elbow on your knee, tracing your bottom lip with your finger just to make his eyes drop to your mouth.

But, this isn’t any other day—it’s work, a job, one that requires him (in part) to be a flirt.

Clearing your throat, you smear on a smile. “You not tried to date since you’ve been home?”

His face hardens, just slightly.

It pinching, eyes more so than anywhere else—his smile falling, descending to a thin line as he traces his teeth with his tongue. Then, his eyes shift into an entirely different brown, an explosion of shades swirling—flecks of gold and sadness-infused umber.

“No.”

Nodding, you pick at some salad on the side of your plate. “Probably a good job—don’t need any angry people coming for me when I’m curled up on your arm.”

He snorts, but it doesn’t flutter over his face. His hand remains balled up, resting on the arm of the chair—something more there, prodding, needling him. He may be so easily able to read you, but you’re sure he’s about as clear as a warm day himself.

Landing his gaze back on you, you feel it linger, hover—before it begins to slip down from your eyes, landing somewhere at your neck, before the buttons off your shirt. Something warming inside of you, flooding out, spreading across your skin as you try your damnest to level your breathing.

“Got any more questions?”

“Plenty,” you reply, almost catching the y on your teeth before placing a light smirk out over your lips, letting it move across your face.

Gesturing, Peña licks his lips and so you begin with more. Not needing the book now, just working your way through the things which populate, which appear like bubbles he bursts with his answers.

He’s open about some things more than others. The two of you covering family quickly, childhoods even quicker. You both discreetly avoid too many details of Colombia, about the things you’d already heard in chunks from your superior.

Your 101 beginner class in your new husband proving to be easier to understand than your field handbook—although, you supposed the intermediate and expert levels to him would be far harder to crack.

He’s unmarried, not dating—there’s his dad, a sea of distant family and a town full of people whom his father would class as family. You suspect some guilt there, it layered between the conversation on his dad, and the one which followed when you’d asked if the ranch would be okay without him.

“—My Pops has had help for a long time. One of them has been promoted. He… He works there full time now.”

Even if he had tried to say it simply, it was laced in bitterness—not from jealousy, you suspect from the sadness that had poisoned over time. A well stuffed with things which had rotted and gone mouldy over time.

Upon sight of him this morning, you had known you’d need to be clever, smart—find ways to compartmentalise it all. Because, when he traces his nose with his finger, when his eyes widen a little more than normal—coffee-brown all but drowning you—you had known it would be hard otherwise.

Something there, niggling, piercing through.

“Any lovers I need to be aware of?”

Smiling, you slide your feet from your heels, pulling your legs up more, swallowing. “No, you’re good.”

“Any potential risks I need to be aware of—anyone who’ll call into question your new name?”

Your stomach knots, uncomfortably so. A thing balling inside of you, that same fear you’d been plucking at for days—ever since Steve had suggested your name, thrown it out on the conference table with a bunch of greedy eyes seated around it.

“No, I… you have nothing to worry about.”

He looks at you, lets it hover, hold. Something there, trying to disguise itself in the way he narrows his eyes a fraction, in the way his lips pinch together—the way his brain seems to whir like a fan that can be heard even across the table.

When you yawn, he makes a move to tidy up the plates for the tray—batting your hand away. “I’ve got it, cariño.”

“Cariño?”

Your cheeks are warm, more so under his stare. Easily able to smother it the first time, but found it difficult the second. It’s all wide, blooming—it tracing your eyes before it sweeps back to the tray.

“Gotta call my wife something original, special.”

“I’m hardly special, Peña.”

“If I’ve married you, you’re special.”

Clamping your mouth shut, you say nothing.

Something churning, a horribleness that you know stems from the fact this isn’t real. None of it. The niceness, the ring on your finger—the one your finger slides up your palm to brush over, to trace.

The one which didn’t have a home there this morning, but now sits like it’s always supposed to. Your stare on his back as he goes to the door, pushing the metal tray, the jingling of plates and glass sounding out as your heartbeat pounds in your ears, your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

It continues to hammer when your back flattened against the bathroom door—safe amongst marble, mirrors and an array of complimentary products which covered most of the sink.

Only as you begin to undress and change for bed, does it lessen, does your composure return back to you. The mask which you so delicately applied, the one which had taken more words of encouragement in your bathroom mirror this morning than you’d thought.

Because, it isn’t that you thought you couldn’t do this—but rather why would you?

This isn’t your expertise. Not your usual field of knowledge. The last time you’d even been on a date had been at least over a year ago, and the last time you’d lived with a man had been so long ago you were worried you’d wake tomorrow and learn you have habits you weren’t aware of.

Did you kick in your sleep?

Did you grind your teeth?

“Cariño?” Peña calls out, knuckles tapping on the door. “You good in there?”

No, you want to reply. Hands gripping the sink basin, staring at your makeup-less face and the nightie he was about to see you in.

“Yeah,” you call out, washing your hands, and flushing the toilet before unlocking the door, and emerging.

He’s polite enough to not drink you in, even if you're sure he’s craning his neck not to do so.

“Look. Before you crack your neck from not doing so.”

Smirking, he traces his fingers across his chin, before slowly dropping his eyes.

And you feel them.

Warm. Hot. Sliding over your neck, collarbone, down the silk which covers your chest, abdomen and most of your thighs, before he’s running his vision back up.

“Better?”

“Nice legs.”

Narrowing your eyes, you straighten your spine. “Try not to dream about them, and Peña?”

He hums.

“Try to remember you’re not actually married, don’t want you falling for the fantasy we’re putting on. Hate to break your heart.”

Leaning against the doorframe, staring at you, you somehow manage to level your breath. “If it’s you breaking my heart, Sunny. I might just let you.”

Your mouth almost falls open. Almost.

Something you think he's aware of from the way he smiles, from the way he drinks you in before he whispers about getting passed.

Then, you're alone.

Filling your lungs with a breath, staring around the room not sure how you're going to make it a week not cracking, never mind more.

CHAPTER TWO ->

AN: thank you for letting me tell the story how i always envisioned. your kindness is appreciated.

[geekforhorror]

pls pls plsssss i want older!anakin to fuck me where everyone could hear us so baaaaad!!! want obi wan to yell at us for being so reckless & disrespectful!! also daddy kink! imagine age gap!

pls write something about his i love your writing!!!!!!!!!

I PRACTICALLY MOANED AT THIS. ALSO I APPRECIATE THE FEEDBACK

shameless

pairing: older!anakin x fem!reader

warning(s): SMUT (DNI IF YOU’RE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH IT!), dom!anakin, sub!reader, established age gap (anakin is 35, reader is 20), anakin is a master in this (not readers master tho!), unprotected p in v sex, dirty talk, pet names, divorced au (sorry miss amidala!), etc.

————

You always had a thing for Skywalker.

You didn’t know what made him so alluring. Maybe it was his confidence, good looks, personality, or perhaps it was all three. You had developed a crush on him from the very moment you encountered him in the temple’s halls. From then on, you could barely keep your composure around him. It started off with blushing and now it had gotten to the point where you had to clench your thighs together whenever he spoke to you. You tried your best to shield your thoughts from the confident Jedi and you thought you succeeded in doing so.

Oh, how wrong you were.

See, unbeknownst to you, Anakin had picked up on your behavior and instantly wanted to know what it was that was making you that flustered. He already had a sneaking suspicion of what was going on. Luckily, he would have the opportunity to see if he was right or not. One night, he had been assigned to be your dueling partner since your master was out on a mission. You were nervous to say the least. How the fuck were you supposed to spend an entire hour with him when you could barely keep your composure around him for more than five minutes? All you knew was that you were screwed.

————

The time had finally come where you had to meet Skywalker in the dueling chambers. Here you were, outside of the very room where the man you had grown feelings for was, yet you were too nervous to actually enter the room. You didn’t know how to describe it. Being around him was so… intoxicating, but also nerve wracking. You knew better than to let these thoughts surface during your session with him, but it would be rather tricky when you had to duel at the same time. Besides, what would he think? He would probably report you to the council the first chance he got for inappropriate behavior on your behalf. That’s why this couldn’t come to light.

To prepare yourself, you took a deep breath in and collected yourself enough before finally entering the room. As soon as you entered the room, you were met with those mesmerizing blue eyes you loved so much. They had a way of making you gaze into them until you were in a dazed-like state. It was hard to look away, but you managed to do so, keeping in mind that you couldn’t be caught doing a thing like that.

“Hello Master Skywalker. It’s a pleasure to duel with you again,” you say too cheerfully. Fuck.

“The feeling is mutual,” he replies with a rather nonchalant tone to his voice. You didn’t know what it was about his voice that always had you dripping through your panties, but fuck. Maybe it was the way his voice sounded like pure velvet.

“Are you ready?” he asks you.

“Yes,” you said a little too quick.

“Alright then. Positions!”

You do as he says and take your normal stance, which you had learned from your master. Anakin takes his signature pose, the room now filled with silence that wasn’t there before. Suddenly, his lightsaber strikes in the air and gives you barely any time to react. However, you know better than to let his hasty movements derail yours. You decide to use your instincts to your advantage.

“I’m not gonna go easy on you,” he says with a cheshire smile.

“Good,” you confidently reply.

He couldn’t help but chuckle at your rather fierce response. He always admired your boldness and confidence. It was what set you apart from all the other Jedi. However, you were also selfless and willing to sacrifice everything for the ones you loved. He saw parts of himself in you. That drive and desire.

He saw your response as an invitation to go harder on you as he swayed his body around while attempting to strike you with his wielded weapon. You blocked him with every breath you took and focused on finding his weakness. Fortunately for him, your focus on defeating him allowed him the perfect opportunity to lodge himself inside that pretty little brain of yours and see what you were hiding from him. After all, his mind reading abilities were way stronger than yours, so it was likely you wouldn’t even notice.

Suddenly, he was met with a vision. It was one of you: all alone in your quarters, wearing nothing but your lacy bra. He was met with the sight of your cunt, all covered in slick and creamy arousal. There you were, all sprawled out on the bed while plunging two of your fingers inside your needy pussy—imagining it was him stretching your tight hole until you were practically begging to cum. Just as he was about to strike, his ears were met with your needy moans.

“Fuck- Ana- Anakin,” you whined out, loud enough for bypassers in the hall to hear.

The vision disappeared just as fast as it was displayed and was replaced with another, only this one was more of a thought and more dirty than the last. This time, it was you thinking of his hands roaming your body and pounding his cock into you until you were a crying and moaning mess around him.

How could a girl like you have such nasty thoughts about her superior?

He felt himself grow hard in the confines of his pants and knew he had to get out before you noticed. When he came back, he was met with your leg swiftly coming up in the air in order to counter his previous actions. Despite being distracted for some time, he somehow overpowered the thoughts of you just enough to hit you right in the leg with his training saber, declaring victory.

“Well, well,” you heard him say.

“What is it?” you say, sounding intrigued but also confused.

“It seems like I beat you despite getting into that pretty little head of yours,” he finally admits.

“Wait what?”

“Don’t play dumb with me… I know every dirty little thought you have of me,” Anakin chuckles confidently. “It’s quite adorable, actually.

You felt a flush of embarrassment fill your cheeks as they were now a rosy shade of pink. “It’s not that hard to sense in you, angel,” he replies, reading your very thoughts. “I found them quite amusing. The way you want me to kiss all over your pretty little body, how you want me to ruin you and make you mine, the feeling of what it would be like to be taken by a man, not a mere Jedi boy. They don’t know what you want like I do,” he says cockily.

“I- I don’t know what to say,” you admit.

“Then I’ll do the talking. From the moment I first saw you, I knew I had to have you. I mean, why else do you think you ended up with me all these times your master was out? It’s because I told the others to let me train you even if it was temporary.”

“I had no idea, Master Skywalker,” you say truthfully, but also surprised at what you were hearing right now.

“I think we’re past all the formalities, don’t you? Call me Anakin,” he says.

“Anakin, I had no idea,” you correct yourself.

“That’s better. Now do you want to take this somewhere a little more… private?” he asks.

“Like where?” you ask playfully.

“Perhaps my quarters?” he suggests.

“I’d like that,” you say with an ear to ear grin, clearly showing you had gotten over your shyness.

“Follow me then,” he says before reaching his hand out to yours. You take his hand before he walks the two of you out of the room and into the dark halls of the the temple. The two of you look for anyone who may be lurking in the halls, but there’s no one. Before you know it, you guys have reached his room and that’s when he hastily opens the door and slams it just as hard.

He wastes no time before hungrily kissing you on the lips and pushing you against the wall of his room. The kiss is primarily fueled by pent-up desire that had been built up in the two of you for what seemed like forever.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this... wanted you," you pant against his lips.

"Trust me...I do," Anakin clarifies. He then moves his lips and latches them onto your neck, sucking roughly at the surrounding skin.

"Anakin..." you whine.

"Yes, sweetheart?" he responds.

"I want you to fuck me," you confess.

"You do, huh?" he rhetorically asks, already knowing the answer you would give him.

"Please Ani.. don't tease me," you pathetically say. You know how you sound right now, but you're too lost in the moment to care about any of that.

"Anything for you, baby," he coos.

With that, he swiftly grabs your hips before letting you wrap your legs around his waist. He guides the two of you toward his bed and gently lays you down. "I'm gonna treat you so well that you won't be able to think about any other man besides me... gotta have you all to myself, baby," Anakin says full of passion while undressing you until you're all bare for him and only him. He knows you want to undress him, but he stops you before you can even lay a hand on any of his garments. He starts to strip himself of any and all clothes he previously had on and maker, his body did not disappoint. Despite his age, he had kept most of the lean physique he had when he was in his twenties. His abs were sculpted to absolute perfection. The way his waist was so defined practically had you drooling. He was perfect in every way. Even his dick was. It was all red at the tip and sat upright, but the thing that stood out the most was how long and thick it was.

"Eyes up here, darling," he says with a slight laugh.

"I don't know if I can take all of that," you shamefully admit.

"You want it though, don't you?" Anakin asks.

"Yes."

That was all you had to say before he positioned himself on the bed and instantly inserted himself inside your tight pussy, giving you no time to adjust to his size as he thrusts into your greedy walls. You immediately felt full of his thick cock and felt yourself clench around him.

"Need to train this hole if you're gonna be all mine," he grits.

"Please!" you cry out, digging your nails into his defined shoulders, which only eggs him on even further.

"Need to ruin you for any other guys, yeah?" he goes on.

You can only nod your head yes due to the newfound pleasure filling your body. No other man had made you feel this good. Maybe it was because one of them had experience like Anakin did. Relationships were strictly forbidden for Jedi to have, but there were rumors about Senator Padme Amidala being pregnant with Anakin's children. You thought they were merely rumors, but that was before you had his cock deep inside your weeping cunt, thrusting until you were all raw and sore. Before tonight, you never knew that's what you wanted.

"Harder!" you beg of him.

"Poor little thing... hasn't been full of my cock for more than 5 minutes and is already begging for more" he tuts.

"Please, daddy!" you scream.

"That's right baby," he says in a soft yet promising tone.

Fulfilling your needs, he spreads your legs even further to get an even better angle of your pussy before animalistically pounding his fat cock into your swollen walls. You couldn't help but loudly moan at his movements. You knew you were giving other people the chance to hear what was going on, but you were too cock drunk to care. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the thin walls of the room and probably the entire hall, as a matter of fact. You felt too full to even form coherent thoughts. He wasn't planning on slowing down anytime soon now that you had given him the green light to go harder. He wouldn't stop until you were a crying mess.

A familiar feeling started to form as you saw stars in your blurred vision. You felt a rope of heat fill your stomach and knew you wouldn't be able to hold off for much longer.

"'M so close Master...please let me cum!" you cry out.

"Just hold on for a bit longer... wanna make you feel as good as possible," he replies. You nod your head at this and comply with his words. He suddenly then ruts his hips even rougher on yours, knowing you would be bruised for days to come.

"I'm gonna-" you start to say.

"Let go for me baby. I've got you... cum all over my cock."

With his permission, you finally let go and spill all over him while he's still fucking you through it. He groans at the feeling of your warmth around his hard cock and cums shortly after. He pulls out of you before lying down next to you. "You did so well for me, darling," he says in a reassuring manner.

Just as you're about to speak, there's a sudden knock on the door that alerts the two of you. The two of you rush to put your clothes on, not wanting to answer the door naked for whoever is on the other side. Once the two of you are fully dressed, Anakin opens the door and it's none other than your master Obi-Wan.

Shit, the two of you were screwed.

"I see that the two of you are finally done engaging in....activities. However, please remember that some of us were forced to listen to your obscenities. Please come with me otherwise you will be dealing with far worse!" he says in an almost lecturing dad tone.

This was gonna be a long night.

[pray4byron]

What the

HAZBIN HOTEL CAST

are like as …

PARTNERS !! (And before that!) (Pt. 2)

Also before I get into this, I would just like to say THANK YOU SO MUCH for the immense amount of love I got on the first part of this!! I would’ve never thought I would’ve gotten so much love so quickly, so thanks a bunch for every like or reblog, they mean the world :)

Including: Vox, Velvette, Rosie, Cherri

Warnings: Sexual references (no smut), swear words, possible spoilers to S1

Vox

Crush!Vox had a crush on you before he even met you lmfao

You were a performer, a performer he really wanted to market, and he spent so much time gawking over you and that opportunity before he even met you

But once Crush!Vox got the opportunity to work for you and officially meet you, he was stoked, but don’t let that fool you, he kept his cool…on the outside

And, still, he spent more time gawking over you…

But now, that time Crush!Vox spent fangirling was now spent in his office. He would have to put so much concentration into not short-circuiting, he would not be able to catch what your saying.

After a few months of working with you, he invites you to a ‘business dinner.’

Yeah… ‘business dinner’ turns into fucking…

It took a few weeks after for Crush/Situationship!Vox to turn into BF!Vox, and to be honest, he isn’t sure where to start…

Sure, BF!Vox has fucked around quite a bit, but honestly… he’s never been in an actual relationship with a label, it’s a bit of a heavy weight and he’s scared to do it, but that doesn’t mean he won’t.

His love language is definitely physical touch and acts of service, he’s not great with his words, he actually sounds like a dick in most sentences that fly out of his mouth, so actions are the only way he knows how.

BF!Vox fucks up his words a lot when he isn’t using his business persona, because he’s not used to talking like that, he genuinely has to keep a mental checklist to make sure he doesn’t fuck up his words — especially if you’re upset.

BF!Vox tries to show it through actions (in more ways than one) instead, whether it be a hug while your upset, doing an extra bit of your work if you’re having a rough week so you don’t have to worry about it, physical intimacy, the list goes on.

Overall, he may not be all he’s built up to be, but he genuinely has so much love for you, he just wishes he could tell you.

Velvette

Crush!Velvette is the kinda girl to absolutely stalk your ass when she likes you (not actually), whether it be checking your location every five minutes, digging into your social media pages (especially with the help of Vox), and so much more.

Crush!Velvette decides to DM you about a potential ‘business offer’ (gotta keep the name clean, yk?) to start out, and you guys meet for lunch to discuss it, yeah uh.. turns out you guys hit it the fuck off immediately!

Once you and Crush!Velvette really get close, you grow close to the other Vee’s too, sorta making you and honorary Vee member.

Your off with Vox and Val, and Val’s bitching about god knows what, until he slips about Velvette’s feelings for you.

“Oh yeah, fuckin’ Velvette is just SO into you now, like excuse me bitch?! What the fuck am I to you if you think so HIGHLY of THAT? No offense… But anywa-” Val rants off as you three cruise the street, without Velvette’s presence.

“VAL.” Vox glitched, cutting off Val mid-rant, gesturing to you beside him, before Valentino mutters a “Shit.” under his breath.

Yeah… Velvette found out, and she was livid, but only for a short period because she got sidetracked when she found out you felt the same.

Now GF!Velvette LOVES spoiling you, she’s also constantly getting you business opportunities with either her or one of the boys, tailoring you custom outfits no one else has, spending a shit ton of cash on you, she’s basically a sugar mommy…

GF!Velvette’s love language is gift giving. She could for sure spend several hours at the mall picking out gifts for you, from all different ends of the extreme, one day she’ll come home with a small, cheap trinket from HellMart that was stupid but nonetheless reminded her of you, and the next day she’ll come home with some expensive ass designer clothes and bag.

GF!Velvette thrives off of princess treatment, especially because of how she was treated with the Vee’s before your relationship, so she kinda expects it cause then she feels kinda empty inside without it, and she can get a bit bratty about it, but baby girl means well💕

Rosie

Crush!Rosie notices right away, and she’s pretty smart about it. She spends time with you, but not too much. She’s nice to you, but she pulls back to tease slightly. She gives you a taste of what life would be like with her, but not a big enough taste so your left wanting to know whats next.

Crush!Rosie catches onto the fact that you just might feel the same way, so she decides to just suck it up and ask.

After realizing you two feel the same about each other, you share a lovely conversation over tea about what you two want out of this, communication is very important to Rosie so she thinks if she gives it to you, you’ll give it right back, right?

You two decide, yeah, a relationship would be cool, and GF!Rosie is through the roof!

GF!Rosie is a very open and honest gf, communication is very important to her, it’s one of her top things she expects out of a partner, she tries her best to have an open mind when it comes to her partner, even if you two have a problem, and she expects the same from you — She’s very vocal in a civil way about her feelings and expectations — but don’t let that scare you, she’s a sweetie!

GF!Rosie’s love language is quality time and words of affirmation! Rosie doesn’t expect anything extravagant, (although it is nice, and she surely doesn’t mind it), but being with you is simply enough— and as stated before, she’s not afraid to speak her mind around her partner, so she thinks you look good? She’s gonna say it. She thinks you’re amazing? She’s gonna say it. That’s just how she is, and she hopes you can get used to it because she’s sure as hell comfortable with you.

Cherri

Crush!Cherri will be completely oblivious to the fact that you like her, it could be right in front of her face, and she’d have absolutely no idea. Unless you flat out suck her face off, she’ll have no clue. Which kinda stops her from confessing for awhile.

But after having a talk with Angel, she decides to go for it.

“Cherri, you’re telling me your a badass hoe, who can chuck bombs like it’s nothin’, but you can’t tell someone you wanna bang?” Angel goes off to Cherri as they watch the romcom on the TV infront of them.

She thinks for a moment. “Huh. Yeah. You’re right. I’m gonna tell them!” Cherri announces, marching off,

“Wait now?! Yous leaving me ‘n Fat Nuggets alone!?”

And then, you get a knock on your door at 1am, and it’s Crush!Cherri, with bed head and peejays, going on and on, you didn’t understand a lot of it, you were fucking tired! But bottom line is, you got out ‘We should date’ and you did not pass that opportunity.

GF!Cherri tries to push you out of your comfort zone, and sometimes that leads to accidentally pressuring you, she won’t know unless you tell her (again, not the most aware person), but if you do she ends up feeling really bad, but she’s glad she knows now!

GF!Cherri’s love language is so quality time, it doesn’t matter if you guys are shooting bitches or cuddling on the couch or fucking, as long as she’s with YOU, she could care less

She may not be the best girlfriend ever, but as long as you stick by her side, she’s content.

[cod-dump]

Soap is everyone's partner best friend and it drives people and because he's super clingy about it. There's no place for Price to sleep in his own bed because Soap took his place between Nik and Phil and they let him because "he was tired and sad". Gaz came back from a mission and thought he will spend time with Roach but he can' t because Soap's already laying head on his lap, talking about whatever bullshit they're at now and Roach seems content enough about it. Laswell threatened to take every single phone in a base to her office because she can't ever call her wife because Soap's always on a phone with her with new rumors. Alejandro has to actually wait for his turns to dance with Rudy whenever Soap's around because he Rudy lets Soap steal him with a smile.

Price was starting to wish Soap and Graves never made up considering how the sergeant was always with him or Nik when Price had free time. He just wanted to relax with his boyfriend and husband but Soap was already wedged between them, a movie playing. Price had to wait for the movie to end just so he could cuddle his partners since Soap refused to leave without finishing the movie.

Gaz didn't think Soap hanging out with Roach was a problem until he came back to base after a long mission. He just finished debriefing everything that happened, showered and ate, and he just wanted to spend time with his boyfriend... Which he didn't get to do because Soap and Roach were reading some comics together. Gaz went to bed annoyed and frankly upset he didn't get to spend time with Roach after missing him for months.

Laswell originally had no issues with any of her boys having Annie's phone number. She was 'Homey Mom', which countered Laswell's 'Stern Mom'. But she started having a problem when never seemed to be able to talk to her wife while away from home because Soap was always on the damn phone with her. Laswell had so many messages from Annie telling her she was already on the phone with Johnny and couldn't talk at the moment.

Alejandro was already pretty touchy and generally jealous over Rudy. That was his amazing husband, his soulmate, the light of his existence, and fucking Soap was stealing all his attention! Alejandro was fuming when he saw them dancing at the bar, Rudy laughing as Soap twirled him around. Took a few Los Vaqueros to keep him from doing anything that he would've regretted.

It annoyed them all, bothered a couple. It was Alejandro who found a solution to it, being beyond angry with Soap for stealing all his husband’s attention. Soap had held Rudy’s hand for the last time because Alejandro went on the offensive.

As Soap leaned against Rudy, too close for Alejandro’s comfort, he would notice Ghost walk into the room. He sat up straight and went to call out to him, but then Alejandro swooped in from behind and wrapped his arms Ghost’s waist, resting his head on the man’s shoulder and grinning broadly. Soap just stared as Ghost and Alejandro talked. Everyone noticed Soap’s reaction, so, they naturally followed Alejandro’s lead.

And now Soap get almost no time with Ghost.

“Sorry, Johnny, Captain wants to go out drinking. No, you can’t tag along, it’s a high end club and he didn’t call ahead with a third wheel in mind.”

“Busy, Johnny. Kyle and I are going on a hike. You and Roach were suppose to go to that movie, why are you asking?"

“Laswell needs me for a few hours. Oh, you’ve been talking on the phone all day, you won’t even miss me.”

“No, I can’t. Alejandro is taking me out to eat. Some, what did he call it, five star restaurant? Supposedly good food but it’s expensive. I’m not missing out on that!”

Soap was finally getting a taste of his own medicine. And, unfortunately for him, Ghost was all too happy to go along with everyone’s plans. While he wasn’t bothered by Soap’s closeness with the others, he would prefer his boyfriend’s attention on him.

[shankss-magnificent-ass]

Imagine proposing to Shanks

At a bar

You: [brooding over a drink by yourself]

Benn: [comes over and sits next to you, like a concerned papa bear] You've seemed really down lately, what's going on up there in that head of yours?

You: Shanks and I have been together for years, and ... I don't quite know what I was expecting, but I am not happy at the idea of being only his dating partner forever.

Benn: Is this because of the wedding we saw yesterday, down at the Chapple?

You: Sort of, now I know that I'm never going to get a traditional wedding like that, but I would like for him to wife me up.

Benn: You should tell him that because he's never going to come to that conclusion on his own.

You: I know, but I can already picture what his proposal would be like, improvised, sloppy, and probably involving alcohol.

Benn: [mutters to himself] Well, at least you know what you're getting into with him before you marry him.

You: what was that?

Benn: nothing. Can I offer you a piece of advice?

You: [nods]

Benn: Don't wait around for others to do something for you when you could do it a million times better yourself.

You: hmm, thank you for the food for thought.

Two weeks later

Shanks: [tugging on the white collar of his button-up like it's choking him,] Why the hell are they making such a big fuss? Insisting I dress up, just to go on a picnic.

Benn: [straightening his captain's tie] Because they love your dumb ass, for some fucking reason, and they went through the trouble of planning a special night for you two. So you're going to dress up, look nice, stay sober, try to behave, do whatever they say,

Shanks: [mutters] I already do whatever they say

Benn: [gives him the side eye as a warning] And you're going to bring them flowers and this cake.

Shanks: yeah, yeah, it's just it's been ages since we've had time to do something special, we're out of the honeymoon phase, you know? We're like an old married couple, we only have sex once a week and everything.

Benn: Oh, I know, we can hear you two in the crew's quarters, we appreciate that it's the same day every week too. [puts the flowers and box of cake in Shanks's hands] Now get going, if you're late I'll kill you myself.

Shanks: Alright, don't shove.

At the docks

You: wow, you made it on time.

Shanks: I wouldn't be late for our first date in over a year.

You: [winces at the reminder]

Shanks: [realizes he's made things awkward, he holds out his gifts] Uh, these are for you.

You: [can see Benn's meddling] Thank you, but we're actually going to have to wait for the boat to get here. I took your habit of arriving late into account when I made the plans, and the time I told you to come was forty-five minutes before you actually needed to be here.

Shanks: [puts his arm over your shoulder and presses a kiss to your head] You know me so well, and no worries if we have to wait, just means that I get more time with you, my love.

On the boat

Shanks: [looks around the glass bottom boat in amazement] Whoa! Look look! There's a tiger shark.

You: I knew you'd like it, we have it all to ourselves tonight. We'll sail around the reefs, and have dinner.

Shanks: we get to eat.

You: yes, they have your favorite, you can even pick out which lobster you'd like to eat.

After dinner

the boat captain: excuse me, we've landed on Firefly Island, you'll have two hours before we raise anchor and head back to the port.

You: thank you, [turns to Shanks, grabs his hand, and leads him to the heart of the island where all the fireflies are]

Shanks: [visibly resisting the urge to run around and chase them]

You: [rolls your eyes playfully] Go ahead, I know you wanna run, go get your energy out. Why don't you run around the edge of the clearing and herd them this way? [sits on a stone bench beside the pond in the center of the meadow]

Shanks: [kisses your cheek] aye aye

You: [waits until he's tuckered himself out, and has collapsed on the bench next to you] Sweetheart, are you having fun?

Shanks: the most fun I have had in a while, look at this jar of fireflies I caught. [holds up a large mason jar, packed with the luminescent insects] I know if I leave them in there too long, they'll die, but I wanted you to get to open it.

You: [gets down on one knee, positions the ring box on the side of the jar and unscrews the lid to let critters free]

Shanks: Isn't it pretty? [looks down at the jar to see the box on the other side of the jar] What'cha got there?

You: [sets the jar aside and opens the box to reveal the ring inside]

Shanks: [freezes]

You: ... I know I'm not going to get a fancy wedding in a place of worship or even a marriage certificate, but I would still like you to marry me. For us to be marriage partners, even if it's only in name.

Shanks: wh-... how ... [pulls out the ring and slides it onto his finger] it fits and everything.

You: [waiting for an answer]

Shanks: [notices your staring] what?

You: will you marry me?

Shanks: [pulls you into his lap, and kisses you] Of course I'll marry you, and no you're probably not going to get a fancy wedding, and you're definitely not going to get a marriage certificate. But I promise you, you'll get one hell of a wedding.

You: Thank you, love. [peers over to see Benn sopping wet in the bushes, taking pictures with a camera snail] Benn, what are you doing?

Benn: getting engagement photos, obviously.

Shanks: how did you get here?

Benn: I swam, now you two stop moving, so I can take a picture before these fireflies can eat the camera.

List of Up-and-coming works || Master list || Twitter| Kofi || Patreon

[bvtbxtch]

I Can Make You Scream | Eddie Munson

Day Three of Kinktober

Summary: Your first collaboration (a Halloween special) with one of the most popular cam boys, Eddie, leaves you breathless and waiting for the next shoot with him.

wc: ~6.7k (I got excited)

Pairings: camboy!Eddie/pornstar!Eddie x camgirl!reader

Warnings: This is literally all smut minimal plot, so 18+ MDNI!! Cam sex, blood and biting, fangs, lingerie, spitting, markup, overstimulation, not being able to cum, light bondage (restraining hands), softdom!Eddie, choking, oral (f and m receiving), overstimulation, squirting, protected p in v sex (wrap it up, folks). This is purely porn with a plot.

Shout out to my darling partner @darknesseddiem who will be posting their 15 prompts later in October. It is my honour to collab with you!

The knock at the door sent lightning bolts straight to your core. You hurry your way to the front door, ensuring to check that your makeup and hair looked perfectly effortless. You took a deep breath to exhume any last minute nerves before you opened your door. 

-

You had moved to Indianapolis from Detroit for school, but very quickly found out the hard way that college was not your thing. Now being stuck with the bill for a new apartment and no scholarships to foot the cost, you had to do what you always had thought about doing. At least now you had an excuse, right? You uploaded your ID and personal information to camwow.com, one of the most popular porn cam sites in the states. You bought yourself a new magic wand from the sex store down the road and took the plunge. Little by little, you gained a following. Money, brand deals and collaborations flooded through you. But the one rule you made for yourself, was you would only do solo work. 

Things changed when you looked at your private inbox. There sat a message that you had to look at four or five times to make sure it was real. The name “metalhead_munson” with a little blue checkmark sat bolded in your inbox, the subject stating plainly: hey :) You had heard of Eddie before, he was only one of the most famous cam workers on the site. Eddie’s message was professional - transactional almost:

I caught one of your shows the other night and was thoroughly impressed. I was going to be in the Indianapolis area on the 30th. My management is giving me a couple of days of free time and I would love to film with you. We could film on my channel and we could split profits 50/50. I would link your profile in the livestream so hopefully we can get your followers up. If you could give me the number to your agent so we can set this up, that would be great.

Cheers,

Eddie Munson.

Your heart raced as you read and reread the message. You didn’t have an agent. You barely knew what you were doing… but he was impressed? Did that mean that he was turned on? Did a huge cam star jack off to your stream? After hours of screaming into your pillow, dancing around your living room and staring at the email, you conjured up a response. 

Hello Eddie! Thank you for the compliment. It means a lot coming from such a big personality on the site like yourself. I unfortunately don’t have any agent contacts but I would love to work with you - thank you for the opportunity! I am free any time around halloween, but was planning a themed stream, if you’re interested?

You signed the message with your phone number and encouraged him to call or text you any time. You couldn’t deny that you hoped he would call. You had seen Eddie’s stream before, it often gracing the front page on camwow. The girls that he often had on his stream were beautiful, more beautiful than you, you imagined. But apparently you knew how to work your body in a way that got you some recognition. So you thought, fuck it? Why not see where this might lead. 

It was 2am when you received a call from an LA area code. You hastily picked up the phone and put on the sweetest most professional voice you could muster up.

“Hello?” You breathed.

“Hey, um is this Y/N?” The baritone rasp had your breath caught in your throat.

“Yeah, that’s me.” you let out a nervous giggle.

“Hey, It’s Eddie. I just wanted to touch base about the messages on camwow. You still up for it? I’d love to meet you.” His voice made your blood run cold. Even over the phone, the man oozed confidence and sex appeal. You couldn’t help but be intimidated. 

“Cool, yeah I would like that a lot. Umm, what did you think about the halloween theme I had thought about? If it’s stupid, we don’t have to but if you wanna I’d-”

“That’s a great idea, honey.” honey “I got a few ideas. I’ll text them to you, okay?”

“Cool, yeah. Sweet..” You were tripping over your own words, your brain short circuiting from the pet name. 

“Great, doll. Don’t be too nervous, okay? I know this is your first collaboration, but we can go slow if you want.” Although there was a lightness to his tone, you didn’t feel judged. You took a deep breath and thanked the man on the other end of the phone. You stayed frozen on the line long after he had hung up, unsure as to what had just happened. You’d see him on October 30th.

The next day Eddie had sent you four or five ideas that he had based around your halloween special. You both agreed on one and as much as the anticipation was killing you, your belly swirled with aroused excitement. You couldn’t wait for the two weeks it would take for Eddie’s arrival.

-

You swung your door open and your heart skipped a beat when you looked at the sight in front of you. There stood the man you had lost sleep over. He loomed over you in the frame of your door, but his lopsided smile eased your nerves. He donned a loose fitting white tee just sheer enough that you could see faint dark tracings of ink on his torso. His alabaster skin complimented the purple and green veins adorning his hands. The man twisted the chunky rings on his right hand. Your mouth watered thinking about where those fingers might be within the next few hours…

“You gonna let me in, or what?” His grin spread to a shit eating smile that immediately made you feel at home in your body. You gave the man a puzzled look as he shuffled past you into your space. Embellishing his canine teeth were fangs. Eddie noticed your confusion.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. They’re fake and they won’t hurt… that much” You follow him into your apartment as he takes in the sights. There was something magnetic about the mop headed man. You followed him around your puppy even though you were in your own house. You snapped out of your daze to remember you also needed to be (at least) a competent host.

“Can I get you anything to drink or anything?” you ask. He politely waved you off as he plops down on your sectional. 

“It’s a nice place you got here, doll.”

“Uh, thanks.” You awkwardly shuffled towards Eddie and sat yourself on the opposite edge of the couch. 

“So, I usually like to go over what we will and won’t do before we go get comfortable. Is that okay?” Eddie offered. There was no sense of annoyance or impatience with you. He was the perfect gentleman, which was making it harder and harder to focus on functioning like a normal human being.

“Yeah, that sounds good. I mean, I haven’t really done this before… but I guess I’m down for anything as long as we kind of chat about it first.” Eddie laughed at your bluntness. You hid your face in your hands and let out a soft giggle. You were nervous and embarrassed but not by him. Eddie rose to his feet and offered out his hands to you. You peered out of your hands and grabbed him with a curt smile. You let him pull you up and you suddenly felt breathless while he was invading your space; but it wasn’t a nervous energy. It was new and scary but you felt oddly at ease with the gorgeous stranger in front of you.

“Wanna show me to your studio?” he said with a wink and a genuine smile. You dropped your hands from his and began to walk to your room - which you had spent hours cleaning leading up to Eddie’s visit. You even went as far as getting new bedding to make your room look ‘cooler’.

You opened your door and let Eddie take in the sights. He took a few steps into your room and hovered to your small bookshelf nestled in the corner of your room. He eyed over your bed, cameras decorating different sides of the bed, their wires treading to your computer. Then his eyes softened when his eyes trailed to you, standing in the middle of your room, hands locked together in anticipation. God he couldn’t wait to devour you, but there was another foreign pang in his chest. 

“You okay? You still wanna do this, right?” Eddie stepped towards you, nervous that you were going to change your mind. 

“No! No, god no” You blurted, maybe a bit too aggressively. “I just…I just don’t know where to start.”

“Well before we turn on the camera, we should get more comfortable,” Eddie offered. You nod your head enthusiastically as the man stalks towards you, coming almost chest to chest with you.

“Can I kiss you?” His eyes looked pleading. You stared up at him with your bright eyes and he felt that pang in his chest again.

“Y-yeah.” you gasp. Eddie’s hands trailed up to your cheeks and he brought his face close to yours, giving you a split second to pull away from him if you wanted. You closed your eyes in anticipation of a forceful kiss, but you almost flinched in surprise of the man’s lips caressing yours. His lips were soft and warm, you felt like you could melt into him. His touches were careful, like he didn’t want to scare you off. You both pulled away and you couldn’t help the smile that grew across your face. You were surprised to see the same one mirrored on the brunette’s face. He cleared his throat and gestured to the bag sitting in your living room. 

“So, I uh- I brought costumes - like not crazy ones, but something just a bit different… you know, to add to these…” The man smiled and pointed to his prosthetic fangs. 

“Y-yeah, I did too, if that’s okay.”

“Sure. I’ll go to the bathroom and change, and I’ll leave you to it. Just open the door when you’re ready for me, okay, Honey?”

“Yeah, sure Eddie,” You gave Eddie a warm smile and he turned to leave you. “Um, Eddie? I uh…. I wanted to let you know that the main reason I do my cam stuff alone is because I have some performance anxiety.” You looked down at your socked feet in anticipation. You half expected Eddie to laugh and walk away; but he was suddenly back and tilting so your eyes were met with his deep brown ones.

“Doll, there’s no pressure at all. Let me make you feel good and if you come, I’ll be stoked. But if you don’t then we can stop and never talk again. Or if you just wanna stop let me know, okay?” You couldn’t sense any judgment in Eddie’s tone or his eyes. You felt dumb for blindly trusting someone you only just met in person. Eddie sauntered out of your room and gently shut the door. You turned to your closet to grab the dainty lingerie hanging neatly on the rack. You slid your jeans and tee off of your body and crumpled them into your hamper. You take off your panties and bra and quickly slide the teddy over your body. You stepped foot into your ensuite to give yourself one final look over and you couldn’t help but bite your lip in admiration. 

The soft pink lace held your tits in place, giving you a delicious cleavage. The corseted bodysuit hugged your waist perfectly, while the lace detailing let a small peak of your skin embellish the lingerie. The frilly lace straps adorn your shoulders that made you look almost virginal. Perfect. The small mesh skirt emphasized your waist. You turned to look at your ass, looking perky and perfect. You looked perfect. It was just what a vampire needed for a sacrifice.

You padded out of your ensuite to your bedroom door. You opened it and called for Eddie to join you whenever you were ready. You sat yourself at your computer and booted up camwow.com. You hated to admit, but your heart was in your chest. You shook with excitement and anticipation. You felt Eddie’s presence in the frame of your bedroom door and you turned to look at him. Your breath caught in your throat while you drank in his form.

He stood leaned tall over your doorframe. His pale skin was now on full display, highlighted by small drips of fake blood. It seemed, to your delight,  he forgot a shirt for his new costume. His toned abs framed a well trimmed treasure trail to where you wanted to see him the most. Highlighting his bulge were a pair of leather pants that caressed his curves perfectly.  His curly hair laid on his broad shoulders. He looked like an adonis. His eyes darkened as he bathed in your appearance, but his lips fell slightly open in awe. 

“Well don’t you look good enough to eat” Eddie teased as he kneels onto your bed. 

“I could say the same to you, Eddie.” your voice was saccharine sweet. Eddie couldn’t wait to hear how sweet your moans would sound…

“So, we’re all set up camera wise, if you just wanna log into your account, we’ll be good to go.” You stood up from your desk chair and Eddie’s brain short circuited. You looked delicious and he couldn’t wait to make you fall apart. He played it cool as he switched you spots and you perched on the edge of your bed. 

“So, I have some rope and stuff too… is that okay?” Eddie’s voice had become thick with lust. He could hardly contain myself. You hummed in agreement. “Oh, and… I gotta say, doll. You’re looking delectable, but there’s a big part of me that wants to rip that thing off you. You okay if I tear up that little number? I’ll buy you a new one.” His eyes turned from the screen and looked pleading, like he would die if he didn’t get the chance. Lucky for him, the thought of him ripping clothes off you went straight to your core. 

“Yeah… I’m sure we can make something work.” You giggle. Unable to control your giddy anticipation. Eddie raised slowly from the computer, and you saw the small red light appear on the cameras fixed around the bed. It was show time. 

“You tell me red light if you need me to stop, okay?” Eddie’s voice rasped, just above a whisper. “We’re gonna start and I’m gonna move a little fast. You ready?” He stood above you at the end of the bed, his chest was heaving. You could feel your heartbeat in your ears as you nodded up at him.

“Use your words, pretty girl.”

“Yes, Ed-”

“That’s sir to you, unless you want to be punished.” Eddie’s voice thickened with pure sex, making a shiver travel down your spine. 

“Yes, sir.”

Eddie leaned down by the end of the bed and grabbed two pieces of black velvet rope. Before you could compute what he had in his hands, he was climbing onto the bed on top of you, pushing you back towards your headboard. 

“Good girl. Make this easy and it won’t hurt as much. I’m hungry…” Eddie growled, his eyes fixed on you, pupils dilated like you really were his prey. He grabbed your wrists with one hand and slammed them above you onto your headboard. He tied one of the velvet ropes tightly around your wrists. You finally caught your breath and were able to comprehend what was happening. The boldness washed over you as you let go of your anxieties. You gave Eddie a devilish smirk then instantly twisted your face into one of horror.

“Please sir, don’t hurt me. I promise I’ll be good and do whatever you want.” You saw Eddie flinch at your words like they were wax burning his skin: a surprise, but a welcome and unexpected one.

“Keep your hands there and I won’t have to tie you down further then.”

“Yes, sir.”

Eddie smiled widely to reveal his fangs to the camera positioned at the side of your bed. He held his hands up to your throat and pressed down just enough to send static to your brain. You felt the cool sting of his rings that he kept on his body, but felt another surprise: adorning his pointer and middle fingers were rings that rested on his upper knuckle and formed into pointed claws. The sharpness sent another type of coolness across your skin. The glint of the metal poked into your neck and you hissed as Eddie continued to press into you. The delicious feeling of oxygen deprivation is topped only when Eddie presses his mouth to yours. You moan into him, all of your body already felt under the mop head’s control. 

Eddie’s mouth moved expertly against you, breaking the seal your mouths had to give you brief moments of breath. He pushed his tongue further into your mouth and you felt your body go numb, all feeling going to your already throbbing core. You wrestled with Eddie’s tongue in your mouth, eliciting a moan from him. You couldn’t wait to watch your recording back again and again just to hear his moan. Eddie bit down onto your lip and pulled hard. You whimpered at the sting and you tasted a metallic tang in your mouth. You went to lick your lips to rid of the small slit of blood sitting on them but Eddie grabbed your jaw and ran his tongue across your lips with a satisfied moan. Eddie looked you deep in the eyes, a silent check in, and what he saw filled him with excitement that went straight to his hardening cock. Your eyes had darkened with lust, already kiss drunk from him.

Eddied trailed his kisses from the side of your mouth to your jaw, to the pulse point by your ear. His mouth was saccharine sweet on your skin, like it belonged there. But in true Eddie fashion (as you’re learning), the sweet was often mixed with heat. You were just melting into his touch when Eddie took a hard bite down on your neck, eliciting a yelp of pain from you. You could feel two small streams of cool liquid trickle down your neck. You began to hyperventilate from overwhelm. Eddie softly grabbed your cheek for you to lock eyes with him.

“Relax angel, the hard part is over. You’re doing so well for me, I gotta be good to my girl… especially…” Eddie leans down to your neck and takes a long swipe up the side of your neck. “When you taste so good” The man’s smile was now tinged with the red of your blood. The lust had finally taken over your body and you happily submitted. You pulled Eddie’s mouth to yours feverishly. You pushed your tongue into his mouth. Your sweet mouth was now tainted with your own metallic taste. When Eddie pulled away, you both looked in satisfaction at your matching stained lips. It took Eddie a moment to compose himself and remember he had a scene to shoot. He sat himself up on his calves and ran his clawed fingers across your collarbone with enough pressure to send a constellation of goosebumps to form across your skin.

“I think we should get this off of you, so I can see you better.” Eddie groaned as he traced his fingers between the valley of your lace-covered breasts. You looked at him dough eyed and scared, but there was a glimmer of lust and wanting in your eyes. You really were going to drive Eddie insane. 

With a quick flick of his wrist, and added pressure to (what he was beginning to think was) your offending garment, to rip down the middle of your torso to your belly button, exposing your hardening nipples. You let out a gasp, the lines of fear and lust blurring further. Eddie’s mouth was immediately on your sensitive skin, his mouth danced across your left nipple while his hand pinched your right. You were barely cognisant of the small bead of blood still dripping down your torso. Eddie kissed his way down your stomach to the meeting of where your body was bare and clothed. He sat back up in fake disdain. 

“Now, this won’t do. I gotta taste that pretty pussy after your sweet blood. You need a reward, and I need my dessert” 

“Please Ed-”

“Ah, ah ah….” Eddie interrupted. His hands hovered over your hips. You were desperate for him to touch you, little did you know, Eddie was desperate to drop this facade and feel you clench around him.

“Please, sir. Touch me, please.” You whined. Eddie was happy to oblige you. He let a low chuckle escape his chest. 

“Since you asked so sweetly, and since I can see that you have already wet through these little panties you got on, I need to taste you.” Eddie took his claws and hooked the mesh covering your pubic bone and dragged down. Once he had a big enough hole he removed his clawed rings and tore the whole crotch of your lingerie. The cool air hitting your core made you shiver. You were suddenly more self conscious than you were before. You instantly remembered that you were on display not only for Eddie but for thousands of people. Almost immediately, Eddie looked up from between your thighs.

“Hey” he whispered quietly enough that cameras couldn’t pick his rasp up. “It’s just you and me, okay?” You gave him a small nod to keep going. 

Eddie quickly turned his gaze back to your glistening core. He pressed a smaller, gentler bite into the flesh of your thigh, eliciting a moan that was music to Eddie’s ears. He liked the mix of pleasure and pain, but hearing your gasps of pure ecstasy was something he definitely thought he could get used to… but he couldn’t think about that right now - wanting to spend more time with you. It was time to use you like a plaything. Plus, how did he know that you would ever want to see him again. 

He shook his head to physically shake the idea from his mind and ran his middle finger through the middle of your slit, which made you a moaning mess for him yet again. Eddie turned himself to the camera and held up his hands with your slick on it. 

“Look at how messy she is for me.” he popped his finger into his mouth and sucked down “mmmm, and so sweet too.” he cooed. He ran two of his fingers back into your folds and stuck them deep into your mouth. You moaned at your own taste, spurring Eddie on further. 

“Oh, my little dinner date is a slut, eh? I guess that means we should treat you like the succubus you are.” Eddie’s words went straight to your core and you clenched on nothing. Eddie let out a low chuckle into the apex of your thigh, sending shivers up your spine in anticipation. You silently begged for him to touch you where you wanted him the most. Your hips bucked in a last ditch plea for relief - and Eddie luckily gave it to you. 

With little warning, Eddie’s mouth attached to your clit and sucked hard. Eddie’s mouth worked expertly at your core, his tongue probing you in ways you didn’t know were possible. You were almost embarrassed, you were a moaning mess underneath him; but you felt too good to care. Your vision was going fuzzy and your chest heaving. You couldn’t help the elicit moans escaping you. You couldn’t help but make eye contact with the camera and you couldn’t help but let a smile escape you.

Your smile was wiped from your cocky face when Eddie stuck his tongue deep in you. Your eyes crossed and your breath hitched. It felt like you were being suffocated with pleasure. Your tied hands flew to Eddie’s hair and you pulled hard, desperate for something to ground you. Eddie moaned into your pussy and you could feel your finish rapidly approaching. You made the mistake of looking down at the mess of hair between your legs and the sight you saw flew you over the edge. The slender hips that sprawled across your bed were rutting into your mattress, his back heaving in desperation. Your blood ran white hot, stars flashed over your vision. A euphoric groan was ripped from your chest. Eddie’s assault didn’t let up once the waves of pleasure became overwhelming. Eddie moaned into your cunt as he tasted your essence. You shuddered under him as you pulled up on his hair, in an attempt to seize his raid on your body. 

“Awww, was that too much for my little plaything?” Eddie growled. His hand flew up to your neck as he crawled his way back up your body. The pressure he squeezed onto you made another flutter flow directly to your lower stomach. Eddie had a talent of pushing you dangerously close to the edge of unconsciousness - a sense of bliss and fear all in one. Your fucked out face looked delicious to Eddie, still stained red with your blood. He leaned down and smashed his mouth into yours. You could taste the remnants of your orgasm and his desperation forcing its way into your mouth. You pulled away with a gasp and looked up at Eddie with your best puppy dog eyes. 

“Can I taste you now, please? Please sir?” you croaked. Eddie could come in his pants right now. He took a gulp and sent you an ear splitting, fanged smile. Willing away his urge to cum in his pants, he took some deep breaths while he undid his tight pleather pants and shimmied them down his lithe waist. His hard cock sprung free and Eddie let out an audible sigh of the relief it brought him. Your hands automatically drifted towards the man’s waist a mere inches away from you.You felt a sting against your wrists as Eddie slammed them back against your wall. You felt your shoulders scream at you from their sudden hyperextension. Eddie barked a dark laugh as you pouted. 

“Play things don’t get to touch. They get to be used.” Eddie ordered. He reached his free hand to tilt your neck backwards to give him purchase for another love bite. You cried out as hot blood trailed back down your clavicle. Eddie pulled away and his face looked similar to yours: your own crimson blood dripping down his chest. 

“Open.” He demanded. Your bottom lip quivered but you obey the man over you. You stick your tongue out. Eddie places his reddened cock onto the flat of your tongue in a hiss of pleasure. His tip felt heavy on your tongue; a salty sweetness that you were instantly addicted to. He was thick, his length equally impressive, and an anxious excitement panged in your throat thinking about how he was going to fit. Eddie slowly slid himself further into your mouth. He ignored your silent pleas to let you adjust to him in your mouth and continued to push into you until your nose was nestled against his manicured bundle of hair at the base of his cock. Your eyes pricked with tears and your throat closed around Eddie’s cock - eliciting a low groan from him. You are granted a brief moment of relief when Eddie slid his cock back out of your mouth, only for your deep gasp of air to be interrupted by him slamming back into your mouth, making you gag and making his dick twitch. Suddenly, Eddie grabbed the camera on the closest tripod and pointed it down at your face. 

“Look at this good girl… taking me so well.” The camera framed (what Eddie thought was) your perfect face, suctioned around Eddie’s cock. He stilled inside you, giving you an opportunity to suck hard and swirl your tongue around his tip. His precum dripped down your throat. Tears freely flowed down your cheeks. Your throat was screaming at you, your nostrils flared in desperation for air. Your throat constricted and relaxed around your scene partner.

You were in pain, his cock stretching your mouth to the absolute breaking point. You looked up and into the man’s gorgeous brown eyes in search for any more praise - begging for any movement, pleading for some sort of release. As much as your body was screaming at you, you had given yourself over to absolute pleasure. You loved the pain, the submission. In that moment, you knew you would do anything for Eddie - anything he asked any time. In that moment, there was a deeper connection than just two people fucking. You were his and he knew it. He could do anything with you, but he wanted to worship you just as much as you were worshiping him. He fastened the camera back onto the tripod, unsheathed himself from you and flopped onto his back beside you.

“Come on then, doll. Show me how much you want me.” Before Eddie’s words could leave his mouth, you were back on him, but you took it slow this time. Your doe eyes had darkened and you were ready to show him just how much you wanted him.

Your tongue ran up the underside of his achingly hard cock. Eddie hissed out praise as you wrapped your lips around Eddie’s tip and hollowed your cheeks. You hummed in satisfaction against him as you bobbed your head. Every suck, every kitten lick, you poured your heart into. You were hypnotized, obsessed, by the moans and praises escaping the head of curls on your bed. You thought he looked like a painting; ringlet curls splayed across your pillows like a crown, flexed biceps framing his face like a beautiful frame, his shirtless torso mimicked that of a marble statue. His abs flexed a contoured trail down to his member, his alabaster skin strewn with black markings. The finishing detail of this piece of art was the blood - your blood stained on his chin and neck. It was like your own signature on this masterpiece.

You were snapped out of your trance by two large hands cupping the sides of your face. His cool rings were like small slaps to your face. 

“As much as I want you to taste me, doll, I need to cum in that pussy. I need to mark you as my own.” Eddie untied your wrists and pulled you up so you were face to face and on top of him.

“I just got to get a condom” he whispered in your ear, ensuring the camera couldn’t pick up your conversation.

“Don’t. I got birth control” you purred, you kissed the sides of his mouth down to his neck.

“A-are you sure, doll? I mean I’m clean but I don’t want you to feel obliged.”

“Eddi- I mean - sir, I want you to cum inside me please. Make me yours.” You knew you were playing a role. This was all for show, but some of it felt real. There was truth in the words you spoke to him. You wanted to be his fully. 

Eddie slid himself up your headboard and he pulled your thighs up towards him so you were straddled on top of him.

“Okay, doll. Show me how well you ride that cock and you won’t get another bite tonight.” Eddie challenged. You agreed, it would be a challenge. Eddie was the largest guy you have ever been with. The wave of intimidation and nervousness flowed through you again. You felt a tight squeeze on your hips and Eddie’s eyes prodded for your gaze. When his golden brown irises met your glowing green ones, he gave you a reassuring nod. It was just the two of you.

You lowered yourself onto Eddie’s cock, slowly sheathing him inside you. You couldn’t control your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You felt deliciously full and you had only lowered yourself halfway. You could tell Eddie was concentrating on keeping his cool. His brows were furrowed and his tongue peeked through his blood stained lips. Beads of sweat were beginning to form under his curly bangs. Eddie peered up at you and immediately lost his composure. His grip became bruising on your hips and he slammed your body into his, pulling moans from both of you. 

Your eyes screwed shut in a mix of pleasure and pain. Your mouth hung open in a crooked smile. Your chest heaved, Eddie was worried your lungs were going to burst out of your chest. The shards of your lingerie dangled behind you like angel wings. An angel you were. Eddie had never felt this way about one of his conquests before. His heart was racing because of the thought of the money he was going to make from this gig, but he now felt another infatuation with you.

“Show me how you ride a cock, babe. Take that cock.” he cooed. You ground down on him, the friction of his base on your clit sent tingles all across your body. Eddie squeezed harder on your hips to ground himself. It was now his turn to be self conscious. He was going to bust way quicker than he wanted to if he didn’t find something to calm him down. He couldn’t look at you - his eyes insisting on staying screwed shut. He helped guide your hips up and down on his cock. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. You’re taking me so well. Squeezing me so tight… f-fuuuck it’s like your pussy was made for my cock, eh?” his assault of praises went straight to your core and yet again you felt yourself teetering closer and closer to the edge. Eddie’s name was like a hymn, you couldn’t say anything other than ‘Eddie’ and ‘please’. A satisfied smile ripped across Eddie’s face. His fangs glinted underneath you. The man snaked his dexterous fingers to where your bodies met. A few expert circles around your sensitive clit had you seeing stars again. You clenched down on Eddie’s cock, hurling Eddie dangerously close to his own release as well, but he wasn’t done with you. He guided your hips to grind down to guide you through your orgasm. 

Before you have time to come down from your high, Eddie flipped you over so he was looming over you.

“You have one more for me don’t you, pretty girl?”

“E-Edd, Sir I… I don’t think I can.” Eddie could look at your fucked out frown all day. Little did you know, he was studying every detail of your face so he could remember it later.

“Well sure you can. You’re gonna show me right now.” Eddie’s voice was more soothing than before. His face had softened slightly and his eyes were bright. He pulled your left thigh above his shoulder to assault your pussy at a deeper angle. Eddie’s rhythm was relentless and quick. Your sensitive pussy was quivering already, and had little to no time to recover from your previous orgasm.

“E-Eddie oh my god.” The angle of his cock hitting your g spot repeatedly had a whirlpool of pleasure and pain brewing in your core. You felt like you were going to float away. Eddie pulled himself out of you, making you whine from the emptiness. His cock was quickly replaced with his fingers and your legs dropped around Eddie’s waist. He angled his middle and pointer finger expertly inside you. If you thought his cock was relentless, Eddie’s fingers were just as, if not faster. The palm of his hand rubbed against your clit and you screamed out in overstimulation. You didn’t know if you wanted the assault to stop or to go harder. 

The wind was knocked from your chest as Eddie’s other hand pushed down on your pubic bone. With a yelp, you felt a white hot flash like you had never felt before. Your body shook and it felt like molten lava was coursing through your veins. 

“Fuck yeah, baby! That’s it, fucking good girl.” Eddie’s excitement was palpable. He stuck his cock back into you to feel you contract and flutter around him. Just your comedown was enough to make Eddie cum inside you. He pumped cautiously, cumming hard but using the shred of control he had to make sure he didn’t hurt you. He pulled out slowly, and leaned forward to give you a tender kiss on the forehead. Soon he collapsed beside you, both of you a mess of heavy breathing, your release, and his. 

Eddie guided you to sit up in front of a camera.

“Show them your neck, doll. Show them how good you did for me.” You craned your neck to the side, turning your face towards Eddie’s. The man reached out and cupped your cheek. You couldn’t help but melt into his touch. He then stood up for your computer and ended your stream.

“Sorry… I, I’ve never done that in my life…” your cheeks flourish in a red blush as you begin to explain to the man standing in front of you, pants now lazily covering his softening erection.

“Doll, I know you didn’t mean to. I wanted you to do that for me. It was fucking hot” Eddie reached for your hands and helped you up. You fell against his chest, your legs too weak to fully hold you up.

“Invoice me for some new sheets, okay?” Eddie winked at you. “Come on, let’s get you in the shower and let’s clean up.” 

You grabbed clean towels for the both of you as Eddie warmed the water to the shower. You sheepishly climbed in and waited for him to join you. You thought the man would fuck you, get up and then leave with as little as a ‘see you’... or a ‘you’re welcome’. But he stayed, and seemed like he genuinely wanted to stay. He helped wash you off, the warm water washing away any insecurities you felt after your shoot. You both talked about how much you enjoyed yourselves and how well you did for your first partner scene.

“I can’t lie champ, I’m pretty impressed.” Eddie poked at you while you both sat on your couch, pizza on the way, a blanket enveloping both of you in more warmth.”Sorry about your neck, though.” Eddie nervously chuckled and ran his hands through his damp curls. You grabbed Eddie’s hand and redirected his energy to you.

“Eddie. I liked it. I would have told you if I didn't, I promise. It was honestly the best sex I’ve had.” You admitted with a small blush highlighting your cheeks. To your surprise, Eddie’s face was redder than yours. 

“Can I ask you something kind of insane?” Eddie asked.

“What’s up, Eddie?”

“Can I kiss you? Like actually kiss you?” His eyes were pleading, he was already starved of your lips on his. He wanted to show you how much he liked being around you, even if you had only been together a half a day. You nodded slowly, a shy smile reaching your lips, but adoration in your eyes. 

Eddie’s lips were soft and gentle against yours. He didn’t want to scare you off by being too forceful. His mouth melded to yours like he was the only person you were meant to kiss. His arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you in close. His hand migrated up your face to softly cup your cheek. Time had slowed down and the only thing that mattered was the boy you were attached to; once a stranger, to someone you didn’t want to be without within the span of a few hours. 

“So, I can only extend my stay in town for a couple of days.” Eddie whispered after (begrudgingly) pulling his mouth from yours. “Can I take you out tomorrow?”

“Yeah, Eddie. I would like that… as long as you leave the fangs in your suitcase next time.”

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[atlafan]

You fucked up again. Just when Harry thinks you've learned from your mistakes, you go and do something ten times as devious. Which is why he's giving you that same glazed over look, the one where he's concocting severe punishments. It's not anger, it's almost exhaustion. It's giving, "how many times do we have to teach you this lesson, old man" from Spongebob. But unlike last time when you accidentally pushed him too far, this was purposeful.

Harry has a grueling job. He works a lot of long hours, he has to deal with idiots all day long, and he cannot stand the other partners at his firm. You were his saving grace. You, who was working as a para-legal just to support yourself while you ran your online jewelry store, started assisting Harry. You'd pull the files he needed. You could type more than 100 words a minute. And you had been so innocent. Not naiive, not a prude, but you were blissfully ignorant, and Harry found that to be very cute. So, when you inevitably started hooking up after one too many long nights together, he opened your eyes to a whole new world of kinky sex. He was so serious about it, explaining that he needed someone to be rough and mean with, but also craving to take care of someone and spoil them with affection. And because he had made you come so hard you cried, you were hooked on him, so you went with it.

You've been together a year now, you live together, and you're thinking of maybe getting a dog soon. You don't report directly to Harry anymore, though. You assist another person in another department. It was the only way you two could date without it being a big deal for the firm.

Tonight is a big night. They're announcing the new junior partners, and since Harry is a senior partner, he gets to pin the two people he's been mentoring. He's actually pretty excited about it, or he was until he saw you step out of the bathroom and back into your shared walk-in closet. He's standing there, half dressed, frozen with fury as he watches you pick out which rings and bracelets you're planning to wear. You double take after seeing the look on his face.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You asked innocently.

"I told you not to wear that dress." He responded lowly.

"You asked me not to wear it, and I never agreed or disagreed. You can't tell me what I can and can't put on my body, Harry."

"You're making me sound controlling, that's not what this is about. You know you look stunning and sexy in that goddamn red dress, and you know it drives me insane because I know for a fact that you're not wearing anything underneath it. That's why I asked you not to wear it. I saw you eyeing it the other day, I should have known."

"I can't wear underwear with this, the fabric is too clingy and I hate having panty lines. It's just a dress. Show some self control."

And that's when the look changed. You swallowed hard and tried not to falter under his gaze. He slowly stalks toward you, still half naked, his abs and other chiseled features fully on display.

"I have plenty of self control." He said as he hooked his arm around your waist, pulling you into him. "And you know better than anyone else that I love showing you off and letting everyone around us know that you're mine and mine alone and that they'll never know you or have you the way that I do." He brings his fingers up to squish the sides of your cheeks. "You have plenty of other dresses. I'd like you to go put a different one, and save this one for my eyes only."

"No." You say through your puckered lips.

"No?"

"No."

"That's final answer?"

"It took me forty-five minutes to get ready, I'm not starting over. The hair and the makeup go with the dress. I'm not changing."

He looked you up and down, smirked, then let you go. You watched him carefully as he pulled his shirt and suit jacket on. You weren't sure what he was going to do, but you're standing your ground on this.

"Babe?" He calls to you from the bedroom, so you leave the closet with your ruby clutch in hand and meet him by his dresser.

"Do you need help with your tie, sweetheart?" You ask ignorantly.

"No, I'm not wearing a tie tonight. I'm doing the open button thing, but thank you for offering. Pull up the skirt of your dress for me."

You furrow your brows but does as he says. He gets down on one knee and starts kissing up your leg. He pulls something out of his jacket pocket and your stomach drops. He hears you gasp, and he looks up at you wickedly.

"I'm going to put this inside you."

"Harry, please, this is a work event, I can't have my come dripping down my legs."

"It won't be come because you won't be coming. I'm going to do as I please with this tonight." He turns the little egg-shaped vibrator on and holds his phone up next to it to pair to the Bluetooth. "Perfect. Alright, spread 'em." He looks up at you, his features turning softer. "Do you need your safe word? It's okay if you'd rather wait until we get home to be punished. I don't want you to be uncomfortable."

"No." You smile softly down at him, gently caressing his cheek. "I'm okay, daddy, go ahead."

He kisses the inside of your knee as he works the toy inside of you. He stands back up and taps one of the settings in the app to give you a test vibration to make sure it's working properly.

You're in for a long night.

What puzzled you most was that Harry hadn't done anything to you yet. He didn't turn the toy on in the car. And you've been at the party for an hour already, and he still hasn't done anything. The anticipation has been killing you. Maybe that was his plan all along. You see your boss and roll your eyes as he stuffs his face with shrimp from the raw bar. You hate him. Part of you wanted to wear your red dress tonight because you wanted to show that sweaty hog that he could look all he wanted, but he'd never be able to touch you.

It's when you're taking a sip of your martini while talking to some of the other paras that you feel the toy kick on. It's starts off with little pulsations, then moves along to steady vibrations. You pinch your thighs together as discretely as you can. You're starting to sweat, and you're starting to let little noises out. You're covering them with coughs and whatnot, but after ten minutes of this, you're starting to get uncomfortably wet. It's all so torturous because as good as it feels, you're not getting any external stimulation, which you need in order to come, so this is all just edging. And you love being edged, so even though it's torture, it's also the absolute best.

Harry knows this. He can see it on your face. You two lock eyes, and you pout at him, pleading. He can't resist you for long, not while you're wearing that dress. Before he can get to you, your boss approaches you, which makes Harry stop short. You had mentioned how he had been such a douchebag lately. He wants to watch the exchange.

"You look incredible." Your boss grinned.

"I know." You snap.

"What are you doing wearing a tight thing like that for? It leaves little to the imagination."

In your head, you don't see how that's true. It's a mermaid style halter with an open back, and the front is separated so you can just see the outline of of the inner parts of your breasts. But because it's a gown, there's an air of class to it. Your hair is up, plenty of pieces out in the front to frame your face. You look stunning. There are plenty of women at this party dressed similarly.

"Don't look at me too much, then." You respond after taking a careful sip of champagne. You're sweating while having that stupid toy inside you. You have to grit your teeth and pinch your nails into your palms to stay composed.

"I'm afraid that's impossible. I think you wore this to get my attention, not that you need help in that department."

"You're being inappropriate. I wore this for myself. I like the way I look in it. It's also one of Harry's favorites, so-"

"I can't believe you're still with that guy. He's like a lump on a log. He's only charismatic with his clients, you know?"

"We live together, so I'd like to think I know him pretty well."

"You deserve to be with someone that can make it so you never have to work another day in your life."

"I like working."

"No one likes working."

"I just said I like working."

"You like making jewelry. Wouldn't you rather do that full time?"

"I-" Your breath hitches when you feel the pulsations start to work in tandem with the vibrations. You're going to kill him.

"Are you feeling alright?" Your boss takes one of your hands, but before he can do anything else, Harry comes up and puts his arm around your waist.

"Bill, she really doesn't like it when you touch her. Look at her, she looks like she's going to be sick, so instead of continuing to make her more uncomfortable, why don't you just walk away. You get away with too many things here, but not for much longer."

"Is that a threat?"

"If you want to take it as one, be my guest." His grip on your hip tightens and you can't help but whimper. "Excuse us." Harry's hand moves to the small of your back to lead you out to the coat check room. He gets you in and locks the door behind you. "Are you alright?" He cups her jaw and looks you over."

"Yeah, th-thank you for getting me - shit - away from h-him." You grit your teeth and pinch your eyes closed, bracing your hands flat against Harry's chest. "Please, I can't...I can't take much more of this, it's been almost two hours."

"I know, and you've done so well for me. I'll turn it off and take it out if you tell me why you wore this even after I asked you not to. I know you can put whatever you want on your body. I just like it when you save certain things for me, for us."

"I hate my boss." You say, still bracing yourself against him. "He makes passes at me all the time. I just wanted to torture him a little, to let him know he'll never know what's underneath all this fabric."

"Sweet girl." He tilts your chin up so you'll look at him. "If Joe was being that big of a prick, why didn't you say something to me?"

"I don't want to run to you to fight all my battles for me. I need to be able to lean on myself."

"If he's sexually harassing you, then you should come to me so I can go with you to HR. You know they don't listen unless someone of higher rank complains. It's fucked up, but that's just how it is. I want the culture to change, but it's slow going."

"I know." You cry, almost feeling ready to drool from how worked up you are. "You're not one of the cogs in the machine, and that's one of the many things I love about you, Harry. I'm sorry I upset you by wearing this because I know you're only upset because you just want to rip it off with your teeth"

"That's right." He backs you up against the closest wall, not caring about any of the coats hanging up being knocked to the floor. He kisses you hard and hot, bending at the knee a bit to get a hand under your dress. He moans into your mouth as he slides his fingers through your folds. "You're soaked, beyond soaked."

"Please, daddy, please." You say breathlessly as he plays with you.

"You sound so good when you're begging. Keep going." He nips at your earlobe before licking and sucking at your neck.

"Please, take it out, daddy. Then you can fuck me in here and I'll do whatever you say."

"You'll need to be quiet. I'll have to stuff the toy into your mouth." He brushes your bottom lip with his thumb and you nod. "Need your safe word?"

"No, god no."

He smirks and pulls the toy out of you, pressing down on the button to turn it off. He whimpers when he feels so much of your slick drip out. He puts the toy inside his own mouth first, moaning at the taste of you, then he puts it into your mouth. He hikes your dress up and immediately gets his middle and ring fingers inside of you. You whine around the toy and clutch at the lapels of his jacket as he pumps his fingers in and out of you, beating into your g-spot. The heel of his palm works to ground down against your clit, making your head roll back. He sponges kisses to your throat as you tug at the hair on the back of his head. Your eyes burst open when you feel yourself start to get close. You're going to explode, and you're all of a sudden worried about ruining the jackets in this closet.

"Don't you dare hold back on me. Fuck the jackets, baby, make a mess." He growls, pounding into your harder.

You're moaning uncontrollably around the toy. You start gushing with his fingers still inside of you, and he doesn't let up. You're coming hard and it feels like it's going to be never ending. This is why you like being edged. You'll take a solid sixty-second orgasm over a ton of little quick ones. Harry slows down his pace, weaning you off of him, before taking his fingers all the way out. He sucks them into his mouth as he fixes your dress. He takes the toy out of your mouth and stuffs it into his jacket pocket while you take his fingers to lick and suck on.

"My good girl." He coos, caressing her cheek. "My good, fucking girl." He catches a glimpse of his watch and sucks his teeth. "Shit, we need to go back to the main room. The pinning is going to start soon."

"Okay, just, let me catch my breath." She says. "Daddy, is my makeup all fucked?"

"Only a little." He wipes under your eyes for you. "Still gorgeous as ever."

"Thank you." You wrap your arms around his neck and hug him tight. He holds you close, giving you gentle kisses and whispering sweet words into your ear. "Thank you." You whisper. "Can we go home after the pinning?" You ask as he opens the door and you walk out of the coat check room.

"Eager for daddy's cock?" He grins.

"Always."

[ivysangel]

in an alternate universe partition was written about dick grayson because it's so him i just KNOWWW he'd do that shit!! with his cocky smile and everything 🤭

NONNIE NONNIE NONNIE !!!!!!! saw this ask half asleep while checking my notifs and had to force myself to get some rest instead of answering it bc i got SO excited even in my delirious half asleep state. obviously i'm listening to it rn while writing this, like NONNIE ??? i'm smiling, literally not joking i'm cheesin like a fucking loser. quick ro lore before we get into the GOOD stuff: massive beyoncé stan, MASSIVE partition stan !!!! massive music lover and pop culture fiend too like this might just be my favorite ask ever. anyway.

who said in an alternate universe bc it's definitely this one. i literally ghostwrote the song with dick grayson in mind err? like i do just wanna be the girl he likes (everybody point and laugh). like the song, aside from being about super hot sex, is about being so into your partner that you'll give everything to them, do anything for them, put all this effort into catching their eye as if you don't already have it. 'take all of me i just wanna be the girl you like' (cassie in euphoria s2 is that u?) IS SOOOOOOOOOOO REAL TO ME !!!!! like i would do anything for him. (side note, why am i listening to partition and hearing jay on the bg vocals? like am i going insane orrr)

(everything under the cut is just smut)

'he popped all my buttons and he ripped my blouse/he monica lewinski'd all on my gown' and 'took forty-five minute to get all dressed up and we ain't even gon' make it to this club' ??? oh exactly. you put all this effort into looking good for him, and unlke CASSIE in eufuckingphoria season 2, it works out for you oh my god it does. 'driver roll up the partition please/i don't need you seein' yoncé on her knees' bc...car sex. but you're not going to a club, no it's a wayne enterprises gala and you don't even get there until hours later because you're almost fully naked in the back seat getting dicked down by dick grayson !!

'handprints and footprints on my glass, handprints and good grips all on my ass' ugh real music literally real fucking music. you're straddling him as he manspreads, cock buried in you, and your fingernails are digging into the black leather seats. his ties been loosened, shirt opened, and there's red smudged on top of blooming hickeys. the glass is foggy, the only semi clear parts being your handprints from when the pleasure got overwhelming. 'now my mascara runnin', red lipstick smudged/oh, he so horny yeah, he want to fuck' like it's dick grayson, he'd fuck you into next week on a normal day so ofc he'd do it when you get all dolled up. ofc everyone's wondering when pretty boy grayson's gonna make an appearence in front of the flashing cameras. 'over there i swear, i saw them cameras flash' rolls down the partition just a smidge, to tell the driver to park somewhere private so you're not caught in an extremely compromising position. not that he really cares, everyone already knows he gets play anyways, it's more about your comfortability. tits out and pussy facing the world, on the cover of tmz and shit bc he got just a bit too cocky. no never that.

'cheauffer eavesdroppin' tryin' not to crash' you and the driver both end up getting a tip that night. he's sorry, he really is. but he just couldn't resist you, not when you were dressed like that. your intention was to have amazing mind blowing sex with dick that night but not in the back of a moving car. 'driver roll up the partition, please/i don't need you seein' yoncé on her knees' bc it was just supposed to be some quick head and now his pants are ruined, your dress is torn, hair messed up on both ends, and the amount of hickeys between the both of you is concerning.

you'd do it all again tho, and he knows you would. shit, he would too !!! and that's so evident in the way he teases you for the next few weeks about it. asking if he should take the dress to the dry cleaners knowing it looks like you'd been in a fight, suggesting you wear the lipstick shade from that night, asking if you need a cheauffer anytime you have to go anywhere, and giving you knowing looks everytime someone asks why you guys showed up at the gala over an hour late. "wardrobe malfunction and car trouble." he says with a smile. it looks normal to whoever you're talking to but you know it holds a level of cockiness that is so completely unfathomable, a level of cockiness he only gets when he fucks you.

(got a little carried away nonnie my b. ughh how i love a good lyrical breakdown, even out of order lol. seriously, this made my day. literally woke up and got straight to it. did not proofread this bc i...just woke up lmao)

[heavyhitterheaux]

New Life Partner

First Lady of Private Garden Instagram AU

Liked by dualipa, saweetie, jaysontatum, quiiso, urbanwyatt, y/ninsta, and 2,394,723 others

jackharlow: my man, ty to my man

y/ninsta: thank you to your WHAT?! aight that's it. everybody getting they ass beat and jayson is first druski2funny: oh so, you're cheating on me again? dualipa: y/ninsta you know where to find me saweetie: oh lord here they go again jaysontatum: now y/ninsta..... I had nothing to do with him writing that caption y/ninsta: jaysontatum lies you muthafuckin tell smh jackharlow: y/ninsta now you know how it feels when you leave me to go out with the hot chips and bad decisions crew blancahood: now why am I in it? jessicakelce: we are literally just sitting here minding our own business and then mullet boy over here wants to call us out jackandy/naremyparents: NOT MULLET BOY blancahood: y/ninsta did not let this man live for 24 hours when she saw his hair, the jokes kept coming and then jumped his bones when she was finished jackharlow: y/ninsta and you wonder why I left you and druski2funny I thought we were taking time away from each other? seeing other people? lilnasx: I'm just here waiting with my popcorn to see y/ninsta kick your ass

Liked by jackharlow, blancahood, saweetie, generationnow, brandisimmons, urbanwyatt, and 3,183,996

y/ninsta: full of hot chips and bad decisions 😜

jackharlow: can't take yall asses anywhere smh and wait a damn minute, is that brandisimmons?!? blancahood: I still don't remember half that night smh jessicakelce: blancahood now I see that the both of us have switched places, that's usually me lol brandisimmons: jackharlow maybe, maybe not urbanwyatt: now why wasn't I invited? I like hot chips softtcurse: urbanwyatt and you like bad decisions smh y/ninsta: urbanwyatt idk urby, we got to take a vote and meet with the president which is me. we'll get back to you shortly about our decision jessicakelce: I vote yes because he can tolerate hot food while jackharlow absolutely cannot jackharlow: jessicakelce will you leave me alone for five damn minutes?!?! jessicakelce: jackharlow no. jackharlow: y/ninsta do you remember what happened the last time you wore a short ass skirt out the house? y/ninsta: jackharlow I'm single now so it doesn't matter jackharlow: y/ninsta don't fucking play with me smh y/ninsta: call jayson

Liked by y/ninsta, jaysontatum, urbanwyatt, druski2funny, 2forwoyne, and 3,184,816 others

jackharlow: my baby girl is so gorgeous 😍

y/ninsta: jackharlow don't fucking post me, you cheater. jaysontatum is your baby girl now. a bitch do look gorgeous tho 🥰 jackandy/nupdates: all I need is one night. ONE. jackharlow: jackandy/nupdates you might get to have it if wifey don't stop playing urbandjack25: jackharlow is lucky he got to her first because if I did, he wouldn't have even been thought of y/ninsta: urbandjack25 not too much on my man now! even though we're married but separated, I still claim him druski2funny: well I don't claim him dualipa: drop his ass claybornharlow: little baby is here y/ninsta: clayyyyyyy, the one Harlow that I can count on to never disappoint me jackharlow: Y/N!!!! and dualipa claybornharlow don't start with me today and druski2funny you'll always claim me. I'm the ex that keeps you up at night urbanwyatt: my best friend is prettier than yours 😍 jaysontatum: I mean urbanwyatt she's pretty, but she obviously doesn't compare to me since jackharlow is ready to leave her y/ninsta: jaysontatum your ass got one more muthafuckin time to act out and then I'm bringing you down to my height jaysontatum: y/ninsta how tall are you because you barely come up to jack's knee saweetie: OUTTA POCKET 2forwoyne: not his knee lmaoooooo jackharlow: jaysontatum she's 5 feet on a good day claybornharlow: jackharlow your mouth is always getting you in trouble smh jackharlow: claybornharlow and it always gets me out of trouble too 😏 jessicakelce: I don't see how it took this long for her to get pregnant smh y/ninsta: jaysontatum I'll be on your doorstep at 8 am tomorrow jaysontatum: y/ninsta have fun trying to reach the doorbell urbanwyatt: jaysontatum well, she is little 😭 y/ninsta: urbanwyatt just for that, I made an executive decision, you can't be a part of hot chips and bad decisions. THAT'S FINAL urbanwyatt: y/ninsta wait! I want a redo!

Liked by jackharlow, urbanwyatt, maggieharlow, brandisimmons, theestallion, shloob_, and 1,297,192 others

y/ninsta: since jackharlow is out being a whore, this is who I'm left at home with smh

claybornharlow: my girl autumn 😍 jackharlow: y/ninsta what is she even doing?!? and not you calling me a whore smh y/ninsta: jackharlow idk, she your baby since she look like you so come figure it out smh theestallion: this baby absolutely knows no chill y/ninsta: theestallion she is on 1000 every damn day as soon as she wakes up. she has now learned how to get out of her crib and I wasn't ready for that jackharlow: I definitely woke up to her face smushed up against mine and was confused on how she got in there smh y/ninsta: jackharlow she can now escape out of Harlow baby jail so we have to hire security. claybornharlow you got the job, congratulations. claybornharlow: she is literally always on her best behavior when she's around me maggieharlow: grandma's baby! y/ninsta: maggieharlow well come get her! you wanted these grandkids so bad and now they're here! I need a drink AND a blunt smh saweetie: y/ninsta damn they got you down bad lol maggieharlow: y/ninsta tell her father to come get her jackharlow: and suddenly something came up that needs my immediate attention y/ninsta: JACKMAN THOMAS

Liked by claybornharlow, jackharlow, urbanwyatt, saweetie, sza, normani, generationnow, and 3,240,286 others

y/ninsta: my big baby and my little baby

since jackharlow wants to act like a husband and show me some attention today, I agreed. he just didn't tell me that I would be at the studio with him and a million other people smh

at least I have my little baby who is not so little anymore to keep me company

like a bitch cried when he turned 21

claybornharlow stop fucking growing up on me 😭

jackharlow: yeah, that was something. but you don't pay me any attention smh y/ninsta: jackharlow I cried when he got his license too lmao and you are a got damn lie smh saweetie: y/ninsta you literally cry at everything lmao y/ninsta: look to be fair, I met little baby when he was eleven and now he's a grown man and me no like that. in my eyes he will always be my little baby so look at this as an appreciation post so if one of these little fast ass girls break his heart, there will be hell to pay. mark my words. claybornharlow: y/ninsta we would have been amazing together jackharlow: claybornharlow AHT AHT! get back to work and stop trying to steal my wife for the millionth time claybornharlow: jackharlow your kids love me, your wife loves me, I'm the favorite child, the list goes on and on jackharlow: claybornharlow I will kick you in the throat y/ninsta: yall better get yall shit together before I tell maggie maggieharlow: too late y/ninsta: welp I tried, get your kids. I'm about to send the oldest back to you. maggieharlow: y/ninsta keep him jackharlow: maggieharlow WOW smh

Taglist:

@harlowsbby

@babyharleezy

@hoodharlow

@stefansalvatoresgf

@jackiehollanderr

@primadxna-girl

@dessmxsworld

@cockslutslurper3000

@raelorns21

@variety-fangirl

@gbaabyyyy

@kamorsstuff

@harlowthot

@sinsandsuccubus

@curlyhairclub

@bootlegroach

@haylexo10

@thinkingaboutjharlow

@fluidsentiment

@charli123456789

@moody4world

@yourstrulymayah

@yana4life

@beanbagbitch

@alinaharlow

@carma-fanficaddict

@minaxcarter

@arination99

@xjup1t3r

@venusvinc

@jackharloww

@midnight-star47

@minkookie95

@inluvwithladybug

@exoticr0ses

@jharlowsangels

@jackierose902109

@knack4harlow

@cmalass

@megawhoree

@softtcurse

@sia2raw

@miniaturehideoutmentality

@hoya122

@nattinatalia

@jackslover12

@skyesthebomb

@jackharlows-world

@louisianalady

@fdl305

@automaticpeachsong

@harlowcomehome

@gassyandsassy1

@babygirlwilly

@amethyst09

@harrycanyonmoonn

@bout-mine

@tattered-tales

@sisiking99

@dessxoxsworld

@gillybear17

@jacksdaycare

@iheartharlow

@disaster-rose

@babyvinnie

@evansxchalamet

@chtkmyharlow​

@itsyagirljaz

@neon-lights-and-glitter

@awhore4moree

@a-moment-captured

@jackmans-poison

@valentinqee

@lightsoutstyles

@j-worlds-blog

@middlechild404

@0elliotswhore

@iknowdatsrightbih

@w1ldthoughts

@love2loveonme

@hufflewhore128

@shawtypoison

@fantasywritersstuff

[lowkeyrobin]

Curious about MCYT with a partner that's usually calm and collected, suddenly being super angry at someone bothering them, maybe almost fighting the person brothering them? (Btw i really love your writing, it's super fun to read!!)

ooooo okay !! I see the vision, hopefully I pulled it off LMAO ; also thank you so much!! that means so much to me, I feel like my writings really corny and dumb sometimes and too boring so thank you, it means a lot to me 🫶🫶🫶

MCYT ; fire in the twilight

includes ; tommyinnit, tubbo, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, & quackity

warnings ; language, talk about SA/perverts/men being weird

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

you're a very calm person

but when you get mad you get maddddd

he's surprised you haven't beaten the shit out of him yet

someone was being kinda weird at a meet and greet at vidcon and you were already stressed and overstimulated from taking pictures with everyone and signing merch and youtooz (guys should I try buying the slimecicle plushie? I don't wanna support a bad company but he's so cute :()

someone took a picture of you stretching where your shirt lifted a bit and showed off your midsection

Tommy saw and immediately called them out while you were taking a solo pic w a fan

when you heard him you just froze and nearly yelled

"Hey, please delete that. out of your trash too, seriously"

"Dude, fucking delete that shit. that's not okay, actually."

you end up nearly beating the shit out of the person....

then comes the Twitch apology 😭😭

you nearly went into a spiral explaining that it's never okay to take photos of ppl without them knowing, no matter when or where

he feels really bad for you but you're able to sit down and calm down to your usual self 🫶🫶🫶

TUBBO

you got really heated while you got matched up with a bigot random on valorant

you were playing with Tommy and Tubbo on squads

this mf set you OFF

they were talking some homophobic, transphobic, racist ass shit and you just lost it

you were READY for this bitch bro

Tommy and tubbo just sat back in silence because they knew you were gonna go off

"one, why do you trust your fuckass government so much?? two, your statements are completely wrong, it takes one google search. three, you're a bitch edge lord, four, no, I don't think I'm cool because I'm a streamer with a platform. five, you're completely wrong about gay people in general, you're doing the exact same thing being a Bible thumper right now. six, shut up! who fucking cares? how much of a loser do you have to be to hate people so much?"

the random just left out of embarrassment and you have to sit afk for a moment and catch your breath

"You okay, y/n?" tubbo asks

dude them and all your chats are worried about you bro

"yeah, sorry. that just... fuck, like, how are people so hateful?"

he reposts a clip of it on tik tok afterward LMAO

genuinley thanks you a little while after you properly calm down because it would've gotten bad if you didn't go off

gives you a little hug and stuff

"thanks for being my little guard dog"

RANBOO

you were getting fed up with how people were treating you and them online and just kinda lost it on stream

your chat was filled with assholes wondering where people were and why you hadn't publicly talked to them in over 12 hours and what your plans with everything were etc etc

"Dude, please stop. all of you. for weeks this has been going on, stop putting me and ranboo on these pedestals and expecting shit from us. seriously, it's horrible for both of us and our health. if you wanna see Tubbo or Tommy, go watch them! they're both live right now. Seriously, it's not funny and it's not gonna make us pump out more content and do what you want. we're people too, we get sad and burned out and tired. eventually content creation gets unfun and you won't get what you want. behave yourselves and do better. we don't owe you anything"

ranboo literally tears up a bit because he was watching the stream in the other room and could hear you, and you were visibly tearing up

you could feel your hands shaking and you just kind of ended the stream because you were so worked up and didn't wanna do it anymore

he immediately wrapped you in a hug because you were just so angry

gave you a pillow to punch and left you be for a while

you're usually very calm but your emotions exploded when you were bottling it up too much

they understood that but their heart bled for you after that, especially w all the hate that came from it :/

FREDDIE BADLINU

people were throwing things at you on stage during Tommy's live show

you played it off as jokes and were fine with jt because they were doing it sneakily in a fun way, roses, kandi bracelets, plushies etc, until someone threw their bra at you

"Okay, can we not?" You scrunch your eyebrows, looking into the crowd as you throw the bra back into the crowd. "That's fucked, don't ever do that again, learn event etiquette. never throw your bras on a fucking stage, it's weird and disgusting"

Freddie looks over at you, standing next to Tommy, giving you a "Holy shit are you okay?" look while also looking for the culprit trying to get their bra back

Tommy instantly stopped the show to reprimand the person

meanwhile Freddie was whispering to you to make sure you were okay

you were pissed but put your big kid pants on and continued the show

you apologized on Twitter after the show because you were really loud and kind of humiliated the people but you were justified with the situation

the people (and the girl who owned the bra) apologized and the situation was over

Freddie feels so bad bc you're so calm and laid back but ppl always have to test your limits :(

NIKI NIHACHU

people were filming you two out in public and taking pictures and you kinda lost it that they weren't listening to niki, telling them to kindly stop

"can you stop taking pictures? she's uncomfortable, please stop." you speak in a stern voice

the fans just like stare at you in shock because you're usually very calm and chill and you basically yelled at them (you reprimanded them because one it's the law two you both didn't want to be disturbed on your walk)

you're in a miserable mood the whole way home because yk how twitters gonna act when they see that

you quickly make a statement before any video leaks or anything, addressing the situation and apologizing to the strangers

ppl got ur back tho and showed support considering they were filming you on a nice walk without consent

she feels so bad seeing you get upset about it and feels like it's her fault

lots of reassuring her that it's never her fault and you're always happy to defend her and you don't mind getting a little loud to defend her

ALEX QUACKITY

you got really upset with someone harassing a bunch of creators during the qsmp Brazil meetup

"Dude, leave them alone. they don't want to take a picture with you and they don't owe you anything! you're being creepy to all those women right now, do you not realize that or something?"

you were furious seeing that many on your friends, even while on a trip, couldn't just not be harassed by men

the weirdo scurried off but you were literally this close to fighting the fucker

you were seething dude, like, shaking because you were so astonished someone could actually be that pushy and that much of a dick over a picture

Alex wrapped you in a tight hug and just squeezed you until you calmed down while the poor people who were harassed had reassured you that they were okay and that they appreciated and thanked you for standing up for them

Alex genuinley apologizes because the way you reacted just proved to him that you definitely are calm and laid back but when you got angry, you got angry

he feels so bad because you had to stand up for your friends and watch them be harassed and shit

[boysssofthemonth]

Unavoidable tragedy | Rafe Cameron

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader Genre: Angst, angst angst Warnings: Some light swearing Words: 2000

"Rafe.." you said carefully watching as the boy before you paced back forth. Hands holding his head up as the posture he so strongly attempted to retain crumbled into pieces. Nothing could prepare you for the storm that was about to strike.

A cold breeze drifted through the four walls of his bedroom. You were unsure whether you had actually felt the breeze, having observed no open windows or doors, or simply the atmosphere dropping had something to do with chills running up and down your spine.

Rafe continued to grumble under his breath, unmistakably, in an anxious condition. You could make out a few of his words, as if he'd been muttering "this isn't how it was supposed to go".

"Rafe," you tried again. This time more firm and the shakiness of the previous attempt hidden behind your false bravery. Rafe whipped his head towards you, his arms fell to his sides, but he continued the pacing he had been doing the past five minutes.

"What?" he snapped, one jab at your heart, "what, y/n." He said your name with such disdain. Another jab at your heart.

"Please, sit down. Let's talk this out," you pleaded. Rafe stood still, but your heart reached out to him, as you watched his body tremble. He was right, this was not how it was supposed to go. None of this was planned, or even a part of the life you envisioned for yourself.

Falling in love? Yes, that was always a dream. As a little girl, witnessing the tremendous affection and plentiful joy that your mother received from your father was enough to have you yearning for such divine love. But falling in love with Rafe Cameron? The man most feared, but most envied in town. The man, who just seven months ago, was terrorising civilians who lived on the same side of town as you. The man who wouldn't even dare bat an eye in your direction, let alone confess his undying love to you.

None of this was supposed to happen, and yet it did.

Somehow, somewhere in the universe, your stars alined. Your paths crossed, and Rafe fell so madly, and deeply in love with the girl who had little but so much to give to the broken and battered boy.

"Talk this out?" Rafe's body turned towards you. His eyes filled with tears, something you, nor anybody for that matter, could say they would have ever witness.

"What else can you possibly say? You want to end things? Okay. We're done. That's it." His voice was charged with so much hatred and poison, every bit of despise striking you.

"The door is that way, you know the way out," Rafe pointed towards the door and gulped as a bead of sweat fell down his forehead. Despite the shivers, your hands begun to sweat.

"Rafe,"

"Don't. You broke up with me, and that's it. There's nothing else for us to say."

"This isn't how I want to end things, Rafe."

"Are you crazy? Is everything about you?" He looked at you exasperatedly. "What about me? Huh? You've been feeling like this for weeks and you don't tell me about it, yet you have the nerve to break up with me and want to talk about it now? That's honestly fucked up, and you're crazy to think I'd want to speak to you about this."

He was right. Rafe was always right about things. Rafe was nothing but sweet and affectionate towards you throughout the four months you were together. You were finally receiving the love that you dreamt of since being a child.

Rafe took you out to fancy dinners, and bought you nice gifts. But Rafe never complained when you wanted to sit at the beach and read for hours. He never complained when your ideal date meant going for walks through the town and people watching. Or ditching his friends at the island club so that he could help you take care of your sick mother.

Rafe was every bit of the lover and gentleman that you had always envisioned in a life partner. Despite his past, and the stories you had heard about him, you continued to see him through the tough demeanour. You broke through his walls, cracked every bit of defence he installed, and found the broken boy. A boy who had so much love to give, but nobody there to give it to. A boy who envied his little sister because the only person he'd ever really wanted to see him, and really see him, was his father. But even he felt that he could never be good enough, because his father only worried about his sisters.

But he met you, and something inside of him changed. He no longer pursued his father's attention. Because now he could show somebody who he really was, and have that warmth and closeness reciprocated.

After some time, the rumours and the disappointment from the people living in figure 8 had begun to circle your mind. Every day you found yourself comparing appearances and monetary value to those who were just like Rafe. You noticed the differences in your lives, and every day you felt yourself become more and more distant.

You were very much aware of what people thought of you, and your relationship with Rafe. His father and step-mother were no different to those against your relationship. You aspired to be liked and someone that Rafe could be proud to show to his peers. But if his own family struggled to even look you in the eyes, then the future was not looking to be in your favor.

It was an everyday struggle, trying to live up to the unattainable expectations of Rafe's family. Never truly acquiring their approval. Supposedly, you were just like Rafe. Pining after the approval and validation from his father, but that in itself had proven to be an unachievable task.

Rafe knew first-hand just how strict and narrow-minded his father and step-mother were. But just as he was determined to express his endearment and deep affection to you, he was set on proving to his family that you belonged. Rafe was always understanding of how you felt, but you promised him that the opinions of others could never influence how you felt for him.

Until a couple of weeks ago, after overhearing Rafe's father and step-mother talking about you. Words that you could never say to anybody yourself as you knew just how hurtful they could be. They talked down on you, your family and how much you had changed Rafe, who was supposed to take over the family company.

Rafe had confessed to you, on multiple occasions, that taking over the company was the last thing he'd ever want. Going to college, getting a degree in something unrelated to business, and living out his life just like every other normal boy his age. That's what he yearned. Time and time again he would contest with his father over his own future.

But Ward blamed you for this change. Although you had only ever supported Rafe in his ambitions, never once having had any influence on his future endeavours.

It was too much. Life on figure 8 was not for you, and whilst you struggled on the cut, at least you felt at home. You were accepted.

You knew you'd never be the girl that Rafe could take home to his parents proudly. You couldn't be the girl that Rafe could parade in town without the dirty looks from others.

But Rafe never cared about that. His love for you was infinite and all he could ever ask for was to have you by his side. He didn't care if his parents never approved, as long as you were with him.

"I'm not trying to make it about myself, Rafe, but can you just hear me out?" your voice cracked, your raw emotions spilling out through every syllable. Rafe sat on a nearby chair hunched over and elbows rested on his knees. His eyes shot straight at yours. His chest heaving up and down, as if he'd just ran a mile. You could see the barriers had begun to reassemble. All your hard work to have him trust you slowly deteriorating in front of your eyes.

You took his silence as an opportunity to speak, "you have got to understand how incredibly difficult this is for me. I wish we could have worked out, and forget this all ever happened, but I can't, Rafe. Your parents despise me, the whole town looks at me like I'm an alien. I can't bear it anymore. Every day I think about how much life would be so much easier for you if I wasn't around. You and Ward would not have to constantly fight over me and you could join your family dinners again without it being so awkward and tense."

Somewhere in the middle of your spiel, a river of tears burst through your barriers. Rafe's eyes softened but you couldn't miss the intensity of his stare. It was physically painful to watch him slowly reeling into himself, shutting himself out from you.

"You think that if you weren't around my dad and I wouldn't be fighting? We fight every single day, even before you, if it's not about you it's about my schooling, it's about my friends, it's about what I'm wearing, what I'm saying, what I didn't say or do." Rafe stood up again, walking closer to you, his hands moving around as he spoke.

"My dad and I have never seen eye to eye, and yes that bothered me before, but after I met you I stopped caring. I thought that you didn't care about what they said, or anyone for that matter, and that gave me motivation to do the same. To stop caring about what my parents thought of me, I thought we were on the same boat. Why didn't you fucking tell me you were feeling this way?" Rafe was now bellowing at this point. You weren't certain if his family were around, but if they were then they for sure could hear every bit of this argument. They'd probably be celebrating your break up.

"Rafe-"

"Why didn't you fucking say anything? I trusted you to tell me, I trusted you enough to tell you what the fuck goes on in my head, and you can't do the same? We could have worked this out, we could have done something. I could have fucking reassured you, but you're fucking selfish and you only think for yourself. You don't think this is hard for me too? I hear them and I see them every day, y/n."

"I'm so sorry, Rafe," you croaked out, a river of tears flowing down your face. Rafe's face was contorted in pain and in anger. His face an angry red tone and a scowl etched onto his features.

"I'm sorry that I couldn't let what they say go, I'm sorry I didn't speak sooner. I'm sorry that I'm putting you through all of this. But if this is being selfish, then I'm sorry too. I have never felt so damn insignificant and unworthy until I step foot on figure 8. You have been so good to me, you have never been at fault, Rafe. But I can't stay here. They're brutal, and I just might not be as strong as you thought I was."

You stood up, and wiped the tears on your cheeks. Rafe looked down at you, whatever trust he had in you, completely dead and buried deep down. You waited for him to respond, but you realised that he was done. Your relationship was done. You turned your back and head straight for the exit.

Rafe's resolve collapsed the moment you closed the door. His life falling away at his very feet, and there was nothing he could do about it.

What upset him the most was that he was willing to fight, to work through the issues and get through this together. But after you so effortlessly ended things, with little to no fight, he grasped just how useless it would have been. You were set on your decision, and there was no changing that. Even if he wanted to reach out to you, to hold you close again. To feel you against his skin and have you soothe his aching heart. He couldn't do anything.

[oceanpulls]

Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross have a plan to soundtrack everything

Trent Reznor and Atticus Ross – best friends and Nine Inch Nails bandmates – found unlikely creative fulfilment (and a couple of Oscars) by reassessing what they had to offer as musicians. Now they’re thinking even bigger, and imagining an artistic empire of their own making

By Zach Baron

Photography by Danielle Levitt

Every weekday, Trent Reznor makes his way from his house, a cottagey sprawl behind a white wall in a canyon on Los Angeles’s Westside, to a studio he’s built in his backyard. There he meets his best friend, bandmate, and business partner, Atticus Ross, and they get to work. Reznor and Ross observe the same hours, Monday to Friday, 11am to 7pm. “We show up,” Reznor told me. “We’re not late. We’re not coming in to start to fuck around.” It’s a methodical, orderly existence that Reznor could not have foreseen in the ’90s, when he was fronting Nine Inch Nails and struggling with a drug-and-alcohol problem that was his answer to success. “I would do anything to avoid writing a song,” Reznor said. “I’d rewire the studio 50 times.”

Now Reznor has a wife, Mariqueen Maandig, five children, and multiple jobs. He is sober. Since 2010, when the director David Fincher asked Reznor and Ross to score The Social Network, for which Reznor and Ross won an Oscar, the two men have had steady employment composing for film. This year, Reznor and Ross are also starting a yet-to-be-named company, built around storytelling in multiple disciplines: film production, fashion, a music festival, and a venture with Epic Games.

And then, of course, there is the oldest and perhaps still the most complicated of Reznor’s jobs: being the frontman of Nine Inch Nails. In 1988 Reznor formed what was then a one-man band; the first two full-length records Nine Inch Nails released, Pretty Hate Machine(1989) and The Downward Spiral (1994), have sold more than eight million copies. (Over subsequent years and subsequent albums, the band has since crossed the 20 million mark in sales.) In the ’90s, for a time, Nine Inch Nails were ubiquitous: a phenomenon on the level of Nirvana or Dr Dre. During that decade, the success of the band nearly killed Reznor. “I didn’t feel prepared to process how disorientating that was,” he said. “How much it can distort your personality.”

These days, Nine Inch Nails, which Ross joined as a full-time member in 2016, present a different problem – how do you make something old, something so already well-defined, new again? There are years when Reznor feels like he has the answers and years when he’s less certain. He has put the band on hiatus more than once; after the last Nine Inch Nails tour, in 2022, Reznor deliberately took a break from playing shows as well. “For the first time in a long time I wasn’t sure: what’s the tour going to say?” Reznor told me. “What do I have to say right now? We can still play those songs real good. Maybe we can come up with a new production. But it wasn’t screaming at me: this is what to do right now.”

But he and Ross still come to work, daily, in search of transcendence. “We sit in here every day,” Reznor said. “And a portion of the time organically becomes us just figuring out who we are as people and processing life and a kind of therapy session. And in those endless hours it’s come up: why do we want to do this? And the reason is because we both feel the most in touch with God and fulfilled.”

It is easy to make things when you are a teenager growing up in rural Pennsylvania, near the Ohio border, as Reznor was, and you have nothing to lose and everything to gain; it is considerably harder, once you’ve got older, and found a way to make things that people like, to keep going. It’s an old story: the act of creation can lift you up, but those sharp gifts can also destroy you, and if you make it past that, the sheer blissful regularity of life with money and a family can even you out so thoroughly that there is no friction left to work with. You look inside the cupboard and the cupboard is bare, or it’s a mansion and living inside of it is a person you’re bored of, and so you stop looking. But Reznor and Ross have never stopped looking, and the search for that magical feeling of finding something – that feeling of, in Reznor’s words, “I don’t know where it came from. I don’t know how I just did what I did, but I’ve channelled it into something that worked” – is still the thing that organises their days and their moods.

We were talking in their studio, which was low-lit and cold and full of synthesizers’ blinking lights. Reznor was on a sofa and Ross sat in a chair nearby. The two men first met in the ’90s, when Reznor signed Ross’s band, 12 Rounds, to Reznor’s Nothing Records. Soon after, they became friends, and then musical collaborators. “I was just getting sober,” Reznor said, “and I was in a pretty fragile transitional phase. And I just hit it off with Atticus right off the bat. And part of it was, he was someone who was on much firmer ground, in a mentor-y kind of way, than I was.”

Ross is two years younger than Reznor, but when they met, he’d already been through certain things Reznor was just getting around to. “I got clean when I was very young,” Ross told me. “So I had a bit more experience than him. Put it like this: I knew you could have fun without being high.”

Their friendship has been a constant in both their lives since. “I don’t know if parts of us are broken and we don’t feel good enough,” Reznor said, staring at the ceiling of the studio, “but we know if we work as hard as we can and do the best work we can, it fixes something. At the core of it, that’s what unites us creatively. On top of that, I think his take on the world and role in life helps me understand my place and not feel as detached in some ways.”

Reznor often jokes, or simply explains, that he is a “quart low” on whatever it is that makes people happy. “I think we can both, on our own devices, run below zero as a baseline,” Reznor said. “I don’t mean manic depression, I just mean we don’t take compliments well. It’s like when we won the Oscar, it was the day after: ‘Let’s take today guilt-free, kind of say fuck yeah.’ And tomorrow we’ll have settled back down to a few feet below sea level.”

In their years of collaborating with each other, both men have found some mutual reassurance – a little lift. Reznor gestured at Ross.

“I remember something he said to me – I don’t know if you want me to say this or not – in one of our talks years ago: ‘Here’s what I want today.’”

“I see what’s coming,” Ross said, nervously.

“I just want to feel OK,” Reznor said, quoting his friend. “I want to feel like I’m OK.”

One day this winter, Reznor greeted me at the door of their studio – in the course of reporting this story, I never saw him anywhere else – wearing a black hoodie made by the synthesizer company Moog, black jeans, and black running shoes. At 58, Reznor still retains the angular intensity and jet-black hair of his youth, but time and fatherhood seem to have made him quicker to smile. He looks a little like a college professor now, or an unusually-well-cared-for software engineer. He led me back, past walls of unused gear and several black-clad mannequins, all of which startled me, to their primary workspace, where Ross – a tall west Londoner (he grew up in Ladbroke Grove) with a stern face and a pleasantly reedy voice – sat at a computer, also all in black. (Once, I asked the two men whether their upcoming clothing line would feature any colour. “No,” Reznor said, incredulously. “Of course not.”)

They were on deadline for two films at the moment, including Luca Guadagnino’s forthcoming Queer. “But we’re trying not to work,” Reznor said, drily. Leaned up against one wall was a photo of the two in tuxedos, accepting the Academy Award for best original score for their work on The Social Network. Reznor had contributed to soundtracks before, in the ’90s, but he’d never formally scored a film until The Social Network.

But Reznor and Ross quickly realised that the work, in some ways, wasn’t so different from songwriting. “What do we do when we write a song?” Reznor asked. “We’re trying to emotionally connect with somebody.” Take the Mark Zuckerberg character in The Social Network:“Here’s somebody who thinks this idea is so important that it’s worth kind of fucking your friends over for it. And then realising maybe it wasn’t worth it, or I didn’t realise how I’d feel if I got what I wanted at the price of this. I can relate to that in my own language. Suddenly there’s music.”

“I’m grateful not to be as angry and frustrated and desperate as I have felt in the past,” Reznor said. “I couldn’t have predicted that I would feel this level of fulfilment.”

And Reznor found that he enjoyed the exercise of solving someone else’s problems instead of his own. “There’s something about not being the boss and working again in service to something that I initially felt guilty for feeling kind of fulfilled by in a weird way.”

Reznor said that on another Fincher film, Mank, the director suggested: “What if it sounded like maybe inspired by Bernard Herrmann and as if it were recorded in 1935 and this film canister sat on the shelf for 60 years?” OK, interesting. (Ross and Reznor were nominated for that one too.)

On the first film the two men scored for Guadagnino, Bones and All, “we got a cut of that that was nearly four hours long with no music and we kind of thought, Oh, fuck,” Reznor said. “Four hours we sat without a pee break, transfixed. It didn’t need music. And when you watch that you approach it differently.” Then Guadagnino brought them Challengers, due for worldwide release in April. Reznor said, “He started us down a path, saying, ‘What if it was very loud techno music through the whole film?’” (This is exactly what it turned out to be.)

“I wish I had his notes,” Ross said of Guadagnino. “His notes were so fucking funny on what each piece was meant to do.”

“Oh, yeah,” Reznor said. “‘Unending homoerotic desire.’ It was all a variation on those three words.”

They liked the challenge of scoring, they found, and that feeling of not being in control. They also liked the way it made them crave being in control again: “It makes you more inspired to work on other stuff when we’re finished,” Reznor said. “Even if it’s just, Thank God it’s done now and we can appreciate the freedom we had before we gave it up.”

These days, Reznor and Ross also like having jobs that let them be at home, around their families. Both men had tumultuous or lonely lives when they were younger; both men have found that fatherhood soothes certain unresolved aspects of their pasts. Ross has three kids, and “probably the greatest reward is how balanced and happy they all are compared to – certainly my growing up was an unusual sort of scenario. It was a fairly chaotic youth.” Ross comes from a notable English family, but his immediate lineage was more unstable. “My dad had a club called Flipper’s Roller Boogie Palace in LA in the ’70s,” Ross told me. “He went bankrupt in England and had a judgment passed against him where he couldn’t talk to a bank manager for 15 years. So he moved here and opened this sort of Studio 54 on roller skates on La Cienega and Santa Monica.” Ross held up a coffee-table book full of photos of the club. “You don’t need to look at it, but it was just a mad life. So I grew up in some madness.”

It is particularly endearing to see Reznor, who at a distance was a fierce and terrifying figure in his 20s and 30s, find domestic bliss. I am old enough that my adolescence coincided neatly with the S&M-flavoured, I wanna fuck you like an animal era of Nine Inch Nails; when I was leaving Reznor’s house one day, I noted with some amusement the cheerful mundanity of a basketball hoop in the backyard. “I’m grateful not to be as angry and frustrated and desperate as I have felt in the past,” Reznor told me. “I couldn’t have predicted that there was a world where I would have a sizeable family with kids and feel the level of fulfilment and comfort and be able to live in that.”

Was that something you were consciously seeking before you found it?

“I think I had some abandonment issues from my parents splitting up, or feeling I never fit in, and I’d gotten accustomed to being on my own. And largely due to my own, I think, inability to really be intimate with people, or share or be open or know how to be a friend or a partner to somebody… Trying that out and doing it with pure and full immersion has led to an unexpectedly great outcome.”

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The other film project Reznor and Ross were on deadline for was Scott Derrickson’s The Gorge, a science-fiction thriller starring Miles Teller and Anya Taylor-Joy. They were working on a lengthy, music-dependent scene that they’d already mostly scored. But, Ross said, “the director wants it to be a bit more, I can’t think of a better word than just a bit more scary and intense.” They weren’t sure what that directive meant, exactly, but they were content – they were happy – to try to figure it out: to enter the room once again, carrying nothing, and to try to leave it with something that didn’t exist before.

Ross called up the scene on a monitor at the centre of a long mixing board: Teller and Taylor-Joy in an evil-looking spiky forest. Reznor and Ross have somewhat fluid roles in their collaboration, but today the plan was for Reznor to improvise some music while Ross edited and manipulated it in real time. “Atticus’ superpower,” Reznor said, “is that I can come up with a melody and a chord change, and he can make that sit on the scene in a way that is meticulous, and mind-numbingly boring to watch him do.”

A studio assistant, also in all black, presented himself to help Reznor set up a microphone and a cello next to a keyboard that sat underneath another computer monitor. Ross hit play on the footage and what they’d already completed of the score, a kind of haunted, chanting murmur. “It’s basically atmosphere at the moment,” Ross said. Next to him was a synthesizer whose make and model he asked me not to print and which the two men use as a kind of sound ecosystem to feed stuff into.

Reznor began by pushing down on the piano’s keyboard, while with his other hand he manipulated the sound with a flat synthesizer on the desk in front of him. It began as a kind of mellow pan flute thing, and then, with a push of a few buttons, became more of a sad, Social Network-ish plonk. Ross stood up and started tapping the synthesizer to his left, and the sounds Reznor made began to loop and accumulate – little melodic figures that plunged in and out of feedback. Reznor moved from the piano to the microphone, where he sang a few soft passages in a baritone falsetto, more sad than spooky, and then to the cello, which he played slowly and choppily. Ross moved between the computer and the synthesizer, trying to harness it all as it built to a loud, echoing crescendo.

After about 20 minutes, Reznor sat back in his chair, and Ross soon followed suit. Everything got quiet again. “It’s going fishing,” Reznor said to me, shrugging. “Sometimes something happens.”

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Or, sometimes, everything happens. One of the first things you see when you arrive at Reznor’s home studio are two original paintings by the Yorkshire artist Russell Mills – on the left, a razor against a rusty red background; on the right, a decaying yellow-and-black collage – that ultimately became the insert and the cover art for Nine Inch Nails’ The Downward Spiral. This is the record with “Hurt” and “Closer” on it. It’s an album Reznor nearly didn’t survive.

Why do I bring this up? Well. If I may, for a moment, sound like the ageing dude in a black T-shirt leaning against the back wall of a bar where you’re just trying to be young and free of recitations of what the year 1994 felt like, there was a different quality to the way things would happen in music. Bands would labour for years, unknown, and then just get struck by lightning, is the best way I can put it: one day, you’re just a guy, and then one radio station plays your song, and then every radio station plays your song, and everyone is listening to those radio stations, because there is nothing else to do, and then MTV loops your video, and everyone watches it because, again, there is nothing else to do, and all of a sudden you are known by millions of bored people in a way that doesn’t quite happen now. This is a gross oversimplification, of course, but here Reznor is, one of the very few people who have experienced the thing I’m describing. I thought: let’s just ask him what that was like.

Reznor said, OK, he could tell me exactly what it felt like. He gave me a single moment: Woodstock ’94, which Nine Inch Nails almost didn’t play – “it seemed like it was going to be gross, to be honest with you” – but ultimately did. “And when we got there, it was terrifying,” Reznor said. “It was way bigger than I pictured in my head and walking on stage. But this is the point of the story: I knew. You could feel like you were in the right place at the right time.”

In retrospect, how did you handle success?

“Had a drink. That’s what sent me down the path. I wasn’t the guy that, you know, at 12 years old cracked a beer. That wasn’t it at all. Just, I feel anxious around people. I’m not sure how to act, especially now that you’re someone that’s supposed to act a certain way. There’s a projection. It feels uncomfortable to walk down the street and people are looking at you because they recognise you. That’s weird. Suddenly everybody wants to be your friend and you’re the coolest. Everyone wants to date you and shit like that.” Reznor said he found it was “easier to have a beer before I go in that room, and then a couple of beers before I go in that room. And pretty soon over a period of time, wait a minute, things start to get out of control. And you know how the story goes.”

Here’s how the story went: Reznor began to wonder if Trent Reznor could ever live up to the Nine Inch Nails guy that people had in their heads. “The reason I was having to drink was to fix that problem, my own insecurity. But the net result is: I’m not really who I am because now I’ve got drugs or alcohol in my system and I’m not thinking as who I really am. And that comes into focus once one gets sober and has time to reflect and kind of think about what got you there and shit you did.”

Eventually, Reznor got sober, and built himself back up. Today he’s happy to talk about all of it, obviously, but he and Ross have done a lot together since – 10 albums’ worth of Nine Inch Nails (Ross was an official member of the band for five of them), among other things – and Reznor is, by nature, not one to dwell too much on the past of a band that he’s still very much trying to figure out. “We’re not fans of resting on our laurels. We’ve been afraid of thinking about nostalgia. That’s a whole other conversation, but the reality is we’re getting older and our fans are getting older and that’s a fact. And I think, say, during the pandemic, not that you asked this question, but as I’m sure everybody was, I was pretty genuinely freaked out and very clearly came into focus: I’ve got to protect my family.”

He was consumed by fear, by terror of what might happen, of what he might do about it. “I can’t even fit all my kids in a car,” Reznor said. “But in the midst of that anxiety, sitting alone in here, I found comfort in nostalgia. I found comfort looking back at things from my youth that I’ve been afraid to even allow myself to glimpse at because it meant artistic death. Because one has to look forward. One can’t be self-referential. I was so afraid growing up in a little shitty town. I could see people that thought the highlight of their life is junior in high school catching the football. You know what I mean? That’s it. That was the peak. I don’t want to fucking be that person. I could see my fate if I stayed in that town.”

In those moments sitting by yourself, what were you getting nostalgic for?

“I miss parts of living in Pennsylvania. I miss a simpler life that I grew up with. I really loved the first INXS album in 1983. I was a senior in high school, and when I listen to it now I could almost start crying because it fucking reminds me of driving in a shitty fucking car in the summer in Pennsylvania. You know what I mean? Man. I allowed myself to kind of immerse myself in who I was at that time, and what it felt like.”

Reznor had been trying to remake himself ever since he left where he grew up, and now here he is in Los Angeles, over 40 years later. “And I kind of went on a deep dive for a while and allowed myself to realise: I am who I am. And the things that made me weren’t the cool things. I’d always been ashamed of: I came from a shitty town; I didn’t have an exotic upbringing; shitty education, you know what I mean? That’s who I am. I’m not sure what the point of all that confession was.”

Well, except: “It plays into where I’m at now.”

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The last time I saw Reznor and Ross, it was once again in their studio. They were sitting very still. Had they been working before I got there?

“We were for a little bit,” Ross said. “And then nervously thinking about you arriving.”

Really? It’s OK if that’s the truth.

“That’s the truth,” Reznor said. They’d just been in this room for the past weeks, months – years, really, he said. Head down. Working. He gestured at me. “It’s a different mindset.”

And “I was thinking about something you said the other day,” Reznor said. That was on a Friday. I’d asked a somewhat rude question about their soundtrack work, which was: why would Reznor or Ross work for anyone else when they didn’t have to?

Now it was Monday. “I thought about that over the weekend,” Reznor said. “It’s like, Why are we doing this? The idea comes from what we think is a good place of ‘Let’s break it up. Let’s get sent down the rabbit hole on certain things and feel like we’ve got tasks being assigned to us rather than us just blindly seeing what happens creatively.’ ”

But, he said, “I think coming out of a stretch of a number of films in a row, I want some time of seeing where the wind blows versus: there’s a looming date on a calendar coming up and we’d better get our shit together. And certainly in the last few weeks I’ve been itching to do what we often do, which is just come in and let’s start something that we’re not even sure what it’s for.”

Some of that energy, he and Ross said, would probably become the next Nine Inch Nails album. Doing soundtrack work, Reznor said, had “managed to make Nine Inch Nails feel way more exciting than it had been in the past few years. I’d kind of let it atrophy a bit in my mind for a variety of reasons.”

But now, “I do feel excited about starting on the next record,” Ross said. “I think we’re in a place now where we kind of have an idea.”

And then there was the company, which Reznor and Ross spent the last two years putting together, piece by piece, with the help of John Crawford, their longtime art director, and the producer Jonathan Pavesi. The idea was, what could they do that they hadn’t already done around storytelling? Some of that might take the form of examining Nine Inch Nails from yet another angle – “we’ve been working on homegrown IP around Nine Inch Nails, stories we could tell, and we’re working on developing those in a way that are not what you think they’d be.” (As in: not a biopic.) They also have a show in development with Christopher Storer, the creator of The Bear, they said, and a film with the veteran horror director Mike Flanagan.

Reznor put on a pair of black-rimmed glasses so that he could examine a piece of paper next to him. “We just wrote some notes because I knew I’d forget what the fuck I’m about to say.” There was a short film coming with the artist Susanne Deeken. There was a clothing venture, a T-shirt line made in collaboration with a notable designer whose name they’d like to keep secret for now, which will arrive this summer. There was a music festival that they were currently planning, “where we’re going to debut as performing as composers along with a roster of other interesting people,” and a record label, both scheduled to launch around the same time.

And for two years they’ve been working with Epic Games on something that is not exactly a video game, in the UEFN ecosystem Epic has built around Fortnite – “It’s what Zuckerberg was trying to bullshit us into calling the metaverse,” Reznor said. “You can’t say that word any more, but in terms of the tool kit, thinking about it through the lens of what could be possible for artists and experiences, we thought that would be an interesting way to tell a story through that.”

They were nervously contemplating the prospect of having day jobs again, of being responsible for more than just themselves. Early on, as they contemplated launching the company, they’d sat down with David Fincher to ask him about movie production: how does it work? “And he’s like, oh, you’re fucked,” Reznor said. “I can distil a two-hour conversation into that. Because, he said, ‘I know you guys, and no one’s going to care more than you do, and you will not be able to let it go.’”

Reznor has actually had this experience before, of being sucked into a project bigger than Nine Inch Nails and having it take over his entire life. Years ago he worked as an executive, first for Beats and then for Apple, building a streaming-music service.

“Trent was very clear when we started,” Ross said. “We cannot let this get into Apple terrain.”

Reznor laughed. “What I mean by that is – I will make this brief; I’m trying to think through what I’m about to talk shit on. Just to self-censor for a second.”

Reznor paused for a moment and then explained. For years, he said, he’d wondered: what would make a good streaming service? This was before the advent of Spotify in the US or Apple Music. Jimmy Iovine, Reznor’s old label boss – later, Iovine would also become Ross’s brother-in-law, after he married Ross’s sister, Liberty, in 2016 – was launching a music service at Beats, which was then acquired by Apple, and Iovine said to Reznor: come try to make this thing a reality. And Reznor surprised himself by saying yes.

“It was a unique opportunity to work at the biggest company in the world at a high level,” Reznor said. “And it was interesting, the scale of the people that you reach through those platforms, just the global amount of influence those platforms can have was exciting. The political situation I was dropped into was not as exciting.”

Reznor enjoyed working with Apple’s design team and its engineering team. “But it made me realise how much I want to be an artist first and foremost.” Reznor also became discouraged with the possibility of fixing the problem that he was trying to solve. “I think the terrible payout of streaming services has mortally wounded a whole tier of artists that make being an artist unsustainable. And it’s great if you’re Drake, and it’s not great if you’re Grizzly Bear. And the reality is: take a look around. We’ve had enough time for the whole ‘All the boats rise’ argument to see they don’t all rise. Those boats rise. These boats don’t. They can’t make money in any means. And I think that’s bad for art. And I thought maybe at Apple there could be influence to pay in a more fair or significant way, because a lot of these services are just a rounding error compared to what comes in elsewhere, unlike Spotify where their whole business is that. But that’s tied to a lot of other political things and label issues, and everyone’s trying to hold onto their little piece of the pie and it is what it is. I also realise, I think that people just want to turn the faucet on and have music come in. They’re not really concerned about all the romantic shit I thought mattered.”

Anyway, Reznor said, turning to Ross, “That was a long-winded way of saying, when we talked about this company, I just said, ‘Be aware of what success might look like because it will turn into something that eats up lots of cycles and time and attention and energy.’ ”

But, Ross said, taking on new responsibilities was, paradoxically, also a way to stay a little younger. “I know we’ve all been talking about being dads and being adults and all that,” Ross said, “and there is a part of me that thinks: it’s important to keep the kid alive.” Meaning the child inside yourself, rather than the one you’re responsible for.

He told a story about him and Reznor visiting the director David Lynch at his house to work with him on the 2017 revival of Twin Peaks. “And I don’t know how old he was at the time,” Ross said, “but he was older. But just walking in there, and he had the room set up and there’s a screen there, there’s some chairs here and there’s some musical instruments there and he’s smoking a cigarette. There’s nothing old about that dude. You know what I mean?”

Lynch showed them some Lynchian footage. It was incredible, even if they didn’t quite know what they were looking at. Lynch was probably 70 or 71 at the time. “But it’s that thing of it doesn’t matter how old he is,” Ross said. “He is alive. It’s that bit of it all that one doesn’t want to lose with age.”

The point was, Reznor said: “Let’s try some stuff. We’re bored. We are. You know what I mean? We’re grateful. We enjoy doing films. We can write a better Nine Inch Nails record, I think. We can put on a cooler tour. We are aimed to do that. But man, what if we try to do that?” Meaning, the company. “What if we could take what we’re good at, like we did with film? We identified something I think we’re good at and we figured out how to apply it to something else. What if we take that theory and try it on some other things? And that’s led us into: we’re not beaten down completely yet. And it feels exciting. That’s what matters to us right now.”

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Styled by Mobolaji Dawodu Grooming by Johnny Stuntz using Dior Capture Totale Hyalushot SFX Makeup by Malina Stearns Grills by Alligator Jesus Tailoring by Yelena Travkina Set design by Lizzie Lang at 11th House Agency Produced by Emily O’Meara at JN Production