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[tis-thedamn-season]

You Won't Get Time, part 1

Summary: From the moment both yours and Steve's parents died in the same car crash, you two had a bond that could not be broken. Growing up as foster siblings with the Barnes family only amplified that bond, and feelings. But where does love and obsessive possession meet? And can you ever have a relationship that isn't dependent on your brother?

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader, Bucky Barnes X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  death of a parent, implied depression, mentioned taboo relationship, mention physical violence, possessiveness, explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, PIV sex, sex at a party, sex with an audience, creampie, tears, feeling used, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Cold.

It’s the first memory you recall after that night. Everything was just so cold. A deep pit settles in your stomach as you remember Winnifred Barnes sitting in front of you and Steve and telling you there was an accident. All four had passed.

And then cold. Dark cold.

Everything becomes blank and distant when you lose the two people that were supposed to take care of you, and be there with you forever. You lost track of the time after you went to live with the Barnes’. They had a daughter your age, and a son his age.

Him.

You can remember him before the accident even though you choose to forget. But it’s the after that strikes you with the most fervent of comfort. Bucky and Becca didn’t understand. They wake up every day to their mother and father, while you and him are left orphans.

Steve is a warmth you needed during that time. Lying in a bed and in a room all your own. Painting pillows with your saline trails, while you beg for a different outcome than what had happened. They never should have gone on that trip to rekindle a dying friendship. They had told you that the Rogers’ and Barnes’ were their best friend, and you didn’t even know their children. Until him.

Steve had a beautiful face that was almost painful to look at. Being at the age where you started to notice the opposite sex, and he was the epitome of every annoying fluttering butterfly in your belly. He wasn’t a celebrity or a god, he was the boy next door. The one of your dreams. But with the death of both your parents you found that you just wanted to be left alone. Cry alone.

Everyone looked at you with pity that you couldn’t stand. You spent exhaustive days trying to ignore that aching in your gut that would never go away. The dead just didn’t come back to life, so you had to cope with the pain forever. Alone forever.

Until that very night when your door creaks open. It wasn’t uncommon for people to barge into your personal space and ask you how you were doing. But Steve didn’t. His pre-teen feet carried him over to your bed and he laid behind your shivering body. He didn’t touch you at first.

It isn’t until you hear him sniffle that you realize he was crying the same as you were. Turning to your other side you stare at the face that you thought would never break. A face you swore would be the most beautiful thing for the entirety of his life. But now his face is turned up into a broken scowl and his tears create tracks of emotional pain that no one could understand. But you did.

It was in those moments of Steve coming to lay in the bed with you that a bond was created that could never be broken. You trusted him with you soul because he trusted you with his vulnerability. He didn’t crack in front of the others. He went on smiling and carrying on with his life, while you had been so cold, and distant from emotions.

But with his breath fanning out over your tear soaked cheeks you finally feel warmth for the first time in months. Like the very air that he breathed into your face was bringing you back to life, and you didn’t realize how grateful you were to have someone to share in this pain before you let out a strangled breath, and he wraps an arm around you pulling you into his body.

You let the pent up sounds you had been stifling roar as your face presses up against his chest, and your body heaves with an uncontrollable shudder. Parents aren’t supposed to die when their children still need raising. But alas, you and Steve were orphans set to live in a home you hadn’t visited prior to their trip.

“All we have is each other. My dad said that they were hoping you and I could heal their relationship,” those words stuck to you like super glue to your heart. Your dad had mentioned something similar. The Barnes’ and Rogers’ stayed in touch while your family was left to live alone. Mentioning something about how they wanted to keep the families close by wishing their children would end up together to create a new league of friendship.

Your mom assured you it was drunk old men talking out of their ass, and yet he still kept you away from ‘their’ boys. And away from him. He was still a boy himself, but he was changing. And you did find him attractive. But the two of you were now forever seared into each other's lives in the most painful and pitiful way.

“I’ll protect you,” whispers before he kisses the top of your head. You didn’t think it qualifies as a first kiss. But if there was anything that would take your mind off the death of your parents, you would seize it. Hold it tight to your heart so you don't have to feel so much pain. And that’s what Steve was. Your distraction. Your light in this dark room. His sunny features and bright eyes held the same turmoil that yours did.

But you had each other.

You tilt your head back as you rake the mascara wand through your lashes. Looking into the mirror to make sure there aren’t any clumps before you toss the tube into a badly stained makeup bag. Grabbing up your friend’s perfume to spritz a few sweetly sprays onto your body before she looks into the bathroom.

“Steve just text you,” she gives you an eye roll before you walk over to your phone. It was a Friday night, so it was a given he would text you. Even if a part of you hoped he wouldn’t. “You going to answer his call?”

“I always do,” you respond with a flat voice as you text a question of an address back to your brother.

“We had plans,” you turn back to look at her confused. What exactly were your plans? Walk along the train tracks while you drown yourself in cheap beer? Try to step closer to the river that you both feared and loved? Or maybe use you try to get her into one of the parties that Steve was always telling you to meet him at.

“But I guess our plans are nothing compared to what Steve wants,” she doesn’t form it as a question, but you want to answer her all the same. People didn’t understand yours and Steve’s relationship, nor did you want to explain it. You were fused together by a tragic accident, tears, and something a bit more salacious than a brother and sister should be doing.

“He’s your brother,” it’s how everyone referred to you and Steve, and even you and Bucky.

“Not by birth.”

“Yeah, but you grew up in the same house. And now that he doesn’t live there it’s like he needs your undivided attention, and only when he needs it. You realize that, right? He never comes here when you call him,” you shrug your shoulders. You never asked. Your needs were met the moment yours and Steve’s skin touched. You didn’t need him in the way that he needed you.

But he needs you right now, so you will give yourself up to him. Of all the times that he was there for you, offering up your comfort is the least you could do. “What have you and Steve done? I’ve heard…” she pauses, trying to choose her words carefully. Anytime someone questions Steve’s intentions you are always quick to get angry and defensive.

“What makes you think we’ve done anything?”

She stares up at you through her lashes before laying down on your bed, and pulling open the top drawer, “Birth control pills.”

“Prevention. You really shouldn’t be such a prude and judge a woman for wanting to do her part in protecting herself against unwanted pregnancies. So that’s what you think? Steve and I are doing something because of contraceptives?”

“What happened to Tommy? That boy that got his ass beat for just looking at you? Him and Bucky beat him so bad he wound up in the hospital.”

“He didn’t just look at me, he touched me. That’s what brothers do.”

“It’s not just Steve you're offering your body to, is it?” Another text from Steve gives you an address, and you don’t have time to deal with her. Shutting it down and not talking about it was best. “At least just tell me if your a virgin or not.”

“I’m a senior in high school.”

“That’s not a damn answer. You’ve never had a boyfriend or any man that’s ever been around you. Just them,” you roll your eyes. Going to grab up your bag. She could stay if she wanted. Or go down the hall to Becca’s room. You knew the two of them talked, even if your foster sister barely glanced at you. Your relationship with her was avoiding eye contact.

“My brother says that they pass you around at parties.”

“Steve would never allow another man to touch me.”

“Not others,” getting off the bed she goes to stand in front of the door, blocking your exit. Steve even sent you an hourglass with the address. He is in a bad way, and you had to get to him. “Just the two of them.”

“Why do you even care?”

“Because you won’t even tell me.”

“Adrian, please move. My brother is about to have a mental breakdown,” reluctantly she moves out of the way. Stepping out of the bedroom to watch you walk out the door. She was making you waste too much time. You have long thought that Steve even had a tracker on your phone. He knew exactly when you left and how long it took.

“He’s always having a mental breakdown. Piece of shit,” she grunts before taking a glance down to Becca’s room. It wasn’t just her brother that had questions and thoughts about you and your ‘brothers’. Becca pitied you. Hated you in a way because you were oblivious to whatever fucked up triangle that you had found yourself in.

Your figure waltzes through the front door of this house party, and almost like in the movies, it goes quieter. The guys that are there turn and look the opposite way or even glance down at the floor. Anything but towards you. Not while Steve is here. If he wasn’t here, you would be a feast to them.

Steve and Bucky had shielded you from the true thoughts of the people they hung around. They always have. One set of silvery blue eyes looks up at you through a haze of smoke and dilated pupils. Giving you a closed mouth smile before exhaling another puff of the putrid joint he was passing around. “You’re late,” his glossy eyes crinkle as he chuckles.

He points down the hallway, and you make your way m to Steve. “Your funeral, Rio,” he laughs before his lips close around the blunt, and he takes a deep inhale.

The second that the door closes behind you, Steve’s pulling you into his body as his hands pull and rip at your clothes. His teeth and lips make work of whatever skin he can get exposed. Not bothering to mess with his own clothes while he gets you completely naked, and leans you over the bathroom counter.

His fingers diddle around with his zipper before he spits into his hand. Running it through your folds as he moans, “Good girl,” his voice growls out before he crashes his cock deep into your core. Meaty hands grip to your hips as he pounds into you at alarming pace. Pushing himself even deeper with every thrust, and the two of you meld together again.

There’s this magic bond that you created with Steve a few years ago. And maddening and agitated Steve was near impossible to cope with, until you asked him what you could do to help. This was his suggestion. The two of you becoming one in a sinful depraved ceremony of using your body to calm his anger. And it worked. For a day or so.

There was a time when Steve stopped coming into your bed. He quit holding you at night. Keeping you warm and chasing away the bad interfering thoughts of your parents death. The coldness had returned, and you didn’t know how to make it go away without Steve.

So when this was his suggestion, you agreed without hesitating. You need Steve just like he needs you. Being with him was just right. While the warm glow of your relationship was gone, it was replaced with a roaring fire. The type of fire that stings and is out of control. But it is beautiful the more you look at it. Even though the flames can lash out and leave scars that imbed in your skin, you crave it. Fear it. And love every second of it on your body.

That was Steve.

He was as dangerous as he was beautiful. But the old comforting feeling of having him close was worth the bit of torment he gave you. Lifting you up from the countrop, he forces you to look at the rippling of your body with every stab he does into you. Makes you see how your exposed to him, while his clothes and body shield you from really seeing him. His guard had been up since the few years you weren’t close, and now you desired it more than anything.

“Look at you, Ri. Look at how fucking beautiful you look filled with me. Where do you feel me?” Your hand shakily rubs over your belly, and Steve’s mouth attaches to your neck. Suckling and nipping at your skin with a chuckle. “Of course you do. That’s where you’re supposed to feel me. I’m the only one who reaches into the depths of your soul and feels your darkest secrets. Because I am you, and you are me.”

He was in so many ways. The two of your souls were as one when your parents perished together. Your broken pieces were sewn together, and you were now one unit. Working as one piece together in fucked up harmony.

His hands move to your tits and he kneads them with a fury and anger that makes slick pool at your core. Moving to your nipples, and he pinches them harshly. Having to bite at your lip to keep yourself quiet. Steve tsks you, biting on your shoulder as he peers at your reflection. “Don’t. Show them just who you belong to. Let them know what sick fucks we are for entertaining the most lewd thoughts of our minds. Who fucks you, Rio?”

“Steve Rogers.”

“Who owns you?”

“You.”

“Prove it,” you scream out as your nerve endings set on fire, and pleasure lights up every part of your skin. Coming so hard over his cock that you become visually impaired for a moment. Needing a second to catch your breath but he goes harder. Faster. Your screams come out as garbled goop as you reach the precipice of another high. Stinging pain that makes your brain shut up.

Blackness. Pure pleasure. And the most brilliant warmth that you wish you could bottle up and keep it for when you need.

“Ahh, fuck,” he screams. Pulling himself out of you before he pushes you back onto the counter. Pumping his slicked up cock in his hand before streams of his cum paint your back. Warmth. “Fuck me. You're gorgeous like this,” you hum in satisfaction, and he leans over to pull your split apart. “Fuck yeah. Now that is a sight to behold. You know what this looks like?”

“Like you belong there,” you're buzzing with the warmth of post coitous. The tender look that Steve throws your way makes it even better and you sway your hips at him again. “And…”

“He only gets you on loan when I say so,” he gives your swollen pussy lips a smack before standing up. Reaching into a drawer for a washcloth before he wets it with warm water to clean up his mess. Warmth.

“Thanks for coming here. I needed you,” throwing the washcloth in a hamper, he grabs up your clothes, starting to dress you with much more tender hands than earlier. His agitation was sated for now.

“Did you get in a fight?”

“Something like that,” he shrugs his shoulder, pulling up your mini skirt. “I don’t like when you wear things like this around these people.”

“I thought,” you huff. It was only last weekend he told you he wanted easier access to his serenity. “You told me to wear skirts.”

“Yeah, but now…seeing you in this and around these people. I’d kill someone if they looked at you.”

“Don’t say that,” you tilt his chin up to look at you. Cupping his cheek as you pet around his beard. “I only want you.”

“And those sick fuckers only want you, so don’t ask.”

“Uh! But,” you stomp your foot, and he swats at your thigh. Moving you over to sit on the closed toilet while he leans up against the door. “Steve!”

“I don’t want you around them.”

“But you can fuck me around them?”

“It’s not like I’ve got you laid out on the table while everyone watches me fuck into your tight cunt,” rolling your eyes, you giggle a moment before reaching for your shoes, “You nasty bitch. You want that?”

“Everyone knows we’re fucking, Steve. They all talk about it. Put on a grand show, and actually claim me in front of the whores that all want your dick. I can be possessive, too,” his reaches out a hand to you, and you take it. Weaving your fingers in his. Warmth. “I can be.”

“I know you can. Soon. Graduate sooner, then maybe you can hang out with us. It’s a bit weird talking about my high school sister being at a party like this.”

“But I am at a party like this. And your high school sister is in the bathroom with you because you fucked her stupid. Wanna see?”

“Yeah, I always wanna see your pussy,” pulling up your skirt, you spread your legs. Watching with a wanton expression as he gazes upon the hole he stretched out. “It wouldn’t look good for the salutatorian of her class to be caught drinking and fucking me at a party. Imagine what the school would say. I’m protecting you,” whatever. You didn’t want to argue with him. You wanted to sit on his lap with his friends. Hold him while he lazily smoked a joint. Anything but going back home to Becca.

“And start wearing panties, would ya?” He playfully says as he backs out of the bathroom. “Love you, Rio.”

“You, too, Steve. Gimme a moment?” He nods his head before closing the door behind him, and you stand to look at yourself in the mirror. The high was quickly fading, especially with that conversation. You wondered how long his high from your body lasted. Hoping he would climb in your bedroom tonight. High and drunk and just wanting to hold you like he used to.

Steve gives a glance to Bucky, nodding his head before he walks out of the party completely. Bucky was allowed, but he didn’t like seeing it or being privy to it. He wanted to ignore it, and pretend it never happened. But Bucky was in some type of way after a girl dumped him. He needed something familiar, and it didn’t happen often.

Bucky waits until you emerge from the bathroom, walking out to the car without giving any of the people in the party a second glance. Steve would be proud. He gives a wink over to one of Steve’s least liked person, Johnny, before he’s jogging outside to get to you before you get in your car.

“Ri,” you gulp as you turn back to look at him. Spreading your legs like it is a command, and his mouth attaches to your own, and his fingers immediately go up your skirt. Giving no time at all before entering to fingers into your juicy cunt, and spears you on his fingers.

His tongue tastes the flavor of your orange gum. Fighting for dominance of your mouth, and leaving you breathless before he pulls away too quickly. Kissing down your back as he starts to get to his knees, and you lean forward a bit more. He yanks up your dress, rucking it up at your hips before he buries his face in your ass.

Tongue assaulting your hole like he was born to do it. Desperate for more than just his tongue, but taking whatever it is he’ll give you. Ignoring the people who once ignored you when Steve was here, but now they’re gathering on the porch whistling, and egging Bucky on, until he’s back on his feet.

Whipping his cock out he presses into you slowly, and you turn to look at only him. “Don’t worry about them, baby,” you weren’t. Steve was chaotic tonight, but Bucky is slower, more rhythmic and you melt with his ministrations. “Yeah, this is what you need, huh?”

It really was. You need to come down from your high, and what a way to be set back down to reality than achingly slow thrusts that are deep. The last two inches fast and sharp right where you need it. Slowly dragging himself out before it’s snapped back into your warmth. No screaming is needed, but you squirm. Moaning at how good it makes you feel.

“You always take care of us, Ri.”

“I always will,” the care breaks a moment, and he pauses looking at you. “Use me,” seconds flash between you, but it feels like hours. Bucky was always sweet, and you wondered if he ever wanted that rush feeling of just getting off. “It’s okay.”

“You’re not a sex doll,” he coos, picking up his pace, but never losing control. “You're our sister.”

“You don’t love me like a sister.”

“I love you more,” your dam breaks, and your walls come crashing down. Not just your velvet walls that milk Bucky, but the ones surrounding your need to be loved. Lavishing in all of it that Steve and now Bucky were giving you. They didn’t love anyone the way that they loved you, and the way that you loved them was entirely too special to put into words much less talk about.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck,” he grunts out. His rhythm becoming messy. “You’re perfect, Rio. So perfect for us,” crowding your body with his, you feel his heat bloom in your stomach, and your left panting, staring back at him with an open mouth, “I couldn’t help it.”

Steve was going to be pissed. Bucky had one rule, and he blew it all inside your pussy. “It’ll be our secret,” you didn’t keep secrets from Steve. Bucky knows this. “Just clean yourself up as soon as you get home,” he breathily says, pulling up his pants.

He walks up the stairs with an eat shit grin and wiping his mouth as everyone oohs him, and you’re left to leave. Worrying about Bucky’s ‘accident’ as you drive to the place. Hoping to get just a bit closer, knowing it wouldn’t be close enough to wash away the sins of the night. Living in both heaven and hell, and wanting something more than warmth.

Johnny peeks through the trees, hating that the ground was dry and his feet have him clambering around like an ogre. You didn’t even flinch anymore if he found you out by the river. You sit stoically still waiting on him to sit beside you in a silent fortitude. He rarely even said anything to you. And he figured that’s why you kept letting him join you.

A secret oath that neither of you spoke out loud. He didn’t fear your brothers, but feared more what they would do to you if they knew about his sittings with you. He sits down beside you on the cold dry leaves, never looking at you. Keeping his eyes on the quick rush of the water you feared, and longed for. He didn’t ask you why you came out here, and didn’t tell anyone.

With a sigh from you, he side eyes your face, noticing the dried black tears that are still on your face. A girl no one saw outside of her brothers, and one he couldn’t ever ignore. “Why do you follow me here?” You wipe away the stains of mascara on your face to no avail, wishing you could walk over and dip your hands into the water, but you don’t.

“Why do you come out here?” He’s never so much as spoken to you before, and you didn’t think he would. And then it was that question. You shrug your shoulders, looking back at the rushing water. “You don’t have to tell me. Why do you let them do it?”

“They’re my…it’s complicated,” you didn’t owe anyone any explanations.

“Start with the river. Rio. It’s a river.”

“You’re widely observant. I’m glad you know that Rio is a river, you want to tell me what state it’s in, too?” He actually touches you as he shrugs his shoulder on you, and you turn to gawk at him.

“I’m sorry I have a dick and touched your precious skin made of glass, princess,” you actually laugh, and it reaches your eyes. “You do smile. So what’s the deal with the river since you don’t want to talk about your ‘brothers’.”

“Don’t use that in quotes like that. You just don’t…the river,” you change the subject quickly. The dynamic between you and your brothers, especially Steve is so sacred you didn’t have words to describe it. You’d rather talk about when things escalated. The river.

“This river touches the back of our property. It’s deeper there. The water rushes faster, and there’s rapids. It’s a great sound to fall asleep to. Steve and Bucky had a rope swing on a tree that could get us across without getting hurt. It scared me. I can’t swim,” Johnny completely turns to look at you, and you shy away.

Keeping your eyes directly on the moving water as you recount that day. “Becca and I wanted to get to the other side. Bucky had joked that we wouldn’t make it. She did. And then it was my turn. Oddly enough the rope broke,” your words come out so clinical. Every word is sharp on your tongue and it leaves a horrid taste in your mouth.

“If that wasn’t enough I hit my head on a rock in the river. Steve and Bucky were outside and had to run down the river to get me. When Steve pulled me out he said my body felt like ice, and there was a blue hue to me. I hate being cold, and I was frozen. He did everything to bring me back, and all I remember is staring at his face. His head was blocking the sun, and he had this halo around him.”

He had been literally shrouded in warmth in that moment, and you clung to him. Your crying was so loud that the neighbors were rushing out to you. Watching as you scrambled into your brother’s arms and you held him like a lifeline. Steve had saved your life in so many ways. First he saved you mentally. And then he saved you physically from the icy cold water.

“His heartbeat was so fast, but it was there. People don’t have to get me and Steve. Our relationship isn’t for them,” you say with finality. “I know people think it’s weird, but we’re one being. Souls that were forged together in tragedy after tragedy. The only constant thing I have had has been him.”

“Why does he make you cry?” You shake your head no, but he reaches towards your cheek, wiping away a stray tear. “I’ve come out here long enough to know he does.”

“Not being with him the way I want to kills me,” there’s many things Johnny could say about Steve. But his loyalty to you paled in comparison. The only reason another man even touched you is because Steve allowed it. But of course your brother would never mention the other women to you.

“Love isn’t dramatic.”

“What do you know of love, Storm?”

“Look at your relationship with Steve like the river. It has its beauty, but it’s volatile and dangerous. It rushes through things devouring whatever is in its path. But think about a calm beach. Right at the edge just where the waves crash on you. Pulling out your worries and sins into the ocean, and you live in peace.”

“The ocean also kills,” Johnny shrugs his shoulders. He wasn’t going to further explain when you didn’t want to retain anything he said. “I should get home. I need to shower. This never happened.”

“It never does, Rio,” the name Steve insisted on calling you since that day. A rebirth, and he wanted you to revel in the changes that a near death experience can give. “Take care of you,” he knows you won’t. Your biggest concern was taking care of the needs of a crazed man. One that would rather see you rot as he destroys everything inside of you, and only because you feel an allegiance to him. Making you completely compliant to his every need. What a grand love that is.

Next

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @pandaxnienke @rogersbarber @theinheriteddutchess @musingsfromthemitten

[tis-thedamn-season]

It’s a 2am surprise: The Tortured Poets Department is a secret DOUBLE album. ✌️ I’d written so much tortured poetry in the past 2 years and wanted to share it all with you, so here’s the second installment of TTPD: The Anthology. 15 extra songs. And now the story isn’t mine anymore… it’s all yours. 🤍 https://taylor.lnk.to/ttpd-theanthology

[tis-thedamn-season]

Inside Her Fantasy, Part 3

Summary: Ransom just wants to show you off

Pairings: Ransom Drysdale X Reader

Rating: mild

Warnings:  language, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 4.9K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Ransom watches Charlie run around the backyard. Her little legs look like a blur as she flails her arms around, letting out a yell of gibberish. She’s so tiny with such a huge personality, and a bit excited about her visitor that is only coming to see her and Maeve, so she says. He sighs, taking a look at his watch before he’s looking back at the tiny girl.

“What cha waiting on, Ranny?” Bucky teases, but Ransom swats a hand on his arm. “You got it bad. The sex that good?”

“No,” he answers flatly, still watching Charlie. Sex just hadn’t happened, and he didn’t even feel like he needed it. Just you. Eventually it will happen.

“You’re hoping it’ll get better?” Ransom looks towards his best friend and teammate, narrowing his eyes as he shakes his head no. “I’m not sure I follow here, brother.”

“She doesn’t have sex unless she knows it’s love,” Bucky’s mouth falls agape, but his wife playfully smacks his head before placing Nixon in his lap. “What?”

“Ran, I think that’s sweet. At least you know — well, you know,” Ransom’s brows furrows as he looks at the woman confused. “I mean that she’s not just jumping into this. She likes you, and you like her. And you know where you both stand, and you’re not letting anything physical get in between the two of you, and you’re not already bored with her,” Ransom doesn’t want anyone thinking less of you. He’s seen the media. He knows you’ve had various boyfriends, and he knows what everyone thinks. Clearly it’s not what he knows.

“She’s exciting though. I don’t like that her tour is taking her away from me, but it’s almost finished,” he looks back towards the little girl who had lost none of her energy. Opening and closing his mouth while he wonders if he should think out loud, or just vocalize what he’s thinking.

A whirlwind. That’s what the two of you have been. It had been somewhat difficult to keep the budding romance secret, but your team did everything possible for you to spend actual time together. And if you were overseas, it has to be FaceTime. Interference with his season was keeping him from going to you, but he would, as soon as the season was finished.

“I’ve never put this much time in a relationship, and I’ve never been more scared to take something public, while also wanting to protect whatever this is,” Bucky’s wife tilts her head to the side, placing a hand on her husband’s thigh. “I wanna show her off, but our time right now is special. It’s ours.”

“Your such a typical man.”

“Hey!” Bucky protests,

“It’s not a bad thing. Ransom is just feeling some type of way because he can’t let everyone see how happy he is, and who is making him happy. Ran, have you been listening to the game commentary? They know you’re happy. You’re playing better now than you ever have, and the Pats are set to win…”

“AHHH!” Both men scream, putting their hands over their ears. Giggling, Nixon joins in, and even Charlie stops running around to copy everyone’s movement. She had almost said win the Super Bowl, and it’s something neither men liked to say out loud. “It’s bad luck to say that, babe!”

“You two and your superstitions.”

“Shh! Mama, do you hear that?” The adults all freeze, but Ransom jumps up quickly. Jogging towards the gate because he knows that sound. That sound means you. “Daddy, can I say it?” He nods, and Charlie starts chuckling. Covering her hand with her mouth, trying to peak through the gate to see Ransom pick you up, and spin you around. “Yep, he’s got it so bad. Can she have a slumber party again? Can she sleep in my bed again? But instead of Ranny can I sleep in there? Can…”

“Charlie, shh, she really needs to try sleeping in a bed that isn’t a twin size princess bed,” her mother whispers, giving a look back to you and Ransom sweetly kissing before she’s watching her giggly daughter. Hoping Charlie doesn’t watch too long when you and Ransom deepen the kiss.

“He really likes her, mama. Look it, they’re still kissing,” she gives a point over to the two of you, and has to look away quickly.

“Charlotte Barnes, would you stop,” Bucky snickers, shaking his head at Nixon, but Charlie couldn’t be contained. Dropping her whole body on the ground in a fit of laughter. “You two, no. Now Nixie is gone, too. You three are rude. It’s sweet.”

“Daddy, sing that K.I.S.S.I.N.G song again!”

“Don’t you dare, Bucky! Charlie, you keep it up, and Ransom isn’t going to bring her over here anymore,” Charlie sits up a bit. Trying to contain her laughter as much as her little body can, but then she looks to see you jumping in Ransom’s arms. Your own arms wrapped around his neck, continuing the kissing.

“Can they breathe?” Bucky’s head falls back, and he howls in laughter, and the little girl’s chuckles begin again. It’s like a cycle between her and her dad. She just says what Bucky won’t.

“You’re ridiculous. I’m surprised you haven’t brought Maeve out of her hole with this incessant — hey, guys,” you bite your kiss swollen lips, and place your other hand on Ransom’s arm. Fully sinking into him. You didn’t think about the Barnes’ already being out here, and judging by the laughter they saw you and Ransom in just a tiny makeout session. You missed him, and missed his lips.

“Hey, it’s okay. Charlie’s used to seeing people kissing, huh, sister?” Her mom gives you a reassuring smile. Her and Bucky have been together forever, of course she saw them kissing.

“Not like that. Daddy, do you think some football man is going to pick me up and squeeze my butt like that?” Oh my god! Your cheeks fire up in embarrassment and you hide your face completely in Ransom’s arm. His meaty hand presses against your temple in an attempt to hide your burning cheeks, but you feel the rumble of a laugh in his chest. “You do know what a butt is for, right, Ranny?”

“Yes, Charlie, I know that butts are for pooping.”

Bucky clears his throat, as he stands up, saying your name with a friendly nod, “Someone else is very excited to see you again, aren’t ya, Nixie boy?”

“How did,” you never know how to approach the subject of Nixon’s legs. Strong little baby with no movement from his knees down. You could see the pain in Bucky and Sarge’s eyes over their littlest love not being able to walk yet. “I mean it’s not my business, but I — I’ve been thinking about him. And,” Ransom gives the hand he’s holding a slight squeeze, and you stop speaking. Waiting on his parents to clue you in on his latest surgery.

“He still doesn’t seem to have feeling in those legs, huh, Nixie. But he will. We’re going to see him running around like Charlie one day soon. You can hold him again,” just like last time, his nose scrunches up into the sweetest little smile until you reach forward, and pull him out of Bucky’s arms, and into your own. “There, now the men can…”

“Start up the grill, Bucky Barnes. Don’t stand there acting you think the women are going to do the work. I know our babies are hungry, and I’m sure you are, too. Where did you travel from?” Leave it to Sarge to make sure the men aren’t sitting around ‘watching’ the children while you and her cook.

“The last stop was Italy. I’ve got a few days off.”

“And she chose to spend it with us. We’ll play with the kids, you two men can cook,” she wiggles a finger towards you, and you follow her over to the furniture. Slyly looking back at Ransom with a smile. They didn’t treat you like anything but human here. The girls even felt more comfortable around you. “Bucky also makes a delicious margarita. Drink as many as you like, and we’ll make sure you and Ransom get home.”

“Oh, um — well,” you didn’t fully trust yourself alone with Ransom. At least with a pink canopy above your head you could let the hormones rage, and still want to talk with him all night long.

“Charlie’s princess bed still has your name on it. Just make sure you sneak in there after she’s snuck out, okay?” Nodding your head, you give Nixon a quick smooch to his chunky cheeks before you sit down with her, and you realize why she designed her backyard like this. Perfect view of the tall men, and of Charlie who dances around with her ribbon. Putting on a show for you, so you didn’t have to perform. Being with the Barnes just felt like that. No performance. Just you.

There’s something peaceful about this family. They’re normal, but completely get the public persona. They keep things simple, despite their mansion. They give their kids a beautiful life, without spoiling them too much. They love hard, and play harder. The simplicity of being here versus in a city or even on a tour bus is the most comforting thing, and you find yourself snuggling closer into Ransom.

Your legs drape over him as you listen to him and Bucky animatedly talk about the last game or practice. You didn’t even care what they were talking about as long as you could hear his voice, and feel his breath. Your hand rubs over his belly, and you wonder why you couldn’t have found him sooner. Of all the men you’ve dated, none were such a man like Ransom. He is bigger than any of your previous boyfriends. Taller, wider, all man.

Ransom is also successful in his own field. You didn’t feel you were competing with his fame. And he isn’t toxic enough to blame you for his problems or lack of recognition. And this little family — you want to be a part of it so much. Bucky just lets Charlie’s sleeping form squish up against him while he talks, while Sarge cuddles up so close to her little baby. The only person you hadn’t seen the whole day was Maeve.

But right now you hear her. Off in the distance, strumming a guitar, and the softest sweetest singing voice. A voice so tender you crave more. You look up at Ransom, and he offers a smile, but it’s Sarge that uses her head to motion where Maeve is. You hadn’t missed the treehouse on your first visit, but you’d assumed it was Charlie’s. She nods to you, and you get up from Ransom.

Your bare feet carry you softly up a treehouse you wish you had as a child. There isn’t even a ladder, but stairs instead. Her voice gets a bit louder, but there’s an edge of timidness to it. This girl has nothing to be shy about. People would sell their soul to get that soft of a voice.

Peeking your head through the door, you hear her growl in frustration, and lean over to scratch out a few lines before she’s back to strumming her guitar. Memories of you in a studio, even younger than her, doing what you loved, and now wishing you had a normal childhood. Wishing your dad wouldn’t have pushed so hard for you to be the star you are. But then, where would you be? It’s easy to take away moments of your life, but it opens up endless possibilities for your current present life.

You step on a wrong board, and Maeve turns around to look at you, her eyes getting wider before she looks back at her notebook, and sneaks it under her leg. “That board always creaks,” she answers plainly, starting to lay her guitar down.

“Please, don’t stop on my account.”

“I can’t compare to you.”

“The only competition you should have is with yourself. We’re all different. Different lives, different experiences. Those experiences give us our stories. And you take your stories and write?” She shrugs, and her fingers tap on her guitar a moment. “It’s a pretty place you’ve got here.”

“The house was dad’s first big purchase. He’d secured a great contract, and they finally felt comfortable buying the house. Mom was so scared of going back to where we were and in an apartment with Ransom,” you sit down across from her on another beanbag, ready to hear whatever story she wanted to tell you. Charlie never had to see her parents struggle, but Maeve was a part of it.

“I wanted a treehouse so bad, and mom told me to just wait, and we’d get some extra money. Ran, picked me up from school one day, and took me to this place, and he let me design it. Told me I could work it off in songs.”

“You’ve always liked singing?” She shrugs again, but picks up her guitar. Her fingers glide over the strings, and you can tell she tries not to look you in the eye much.

“I liked writing more. Most of the songs are different versions of lyrics to yours.”

“Like a parody?”

She shakes her head no giggling. Strumming a few chords when she looks up at you, “I simplified them for a kid. You would sing about love, I’d sing about playing in the dirt, or begging my dad to buy me a guitar. The melody had the same rhythm. And no, I don’t remember them. I’m sure they have videos of me. It was just us and Ransom for years. Him and dad were unstoppable in the game. Mom became more secure with our finances, and she wanted a baby. And it never happened. They tried, and they cried, and then that hellcat of my sister was born. I was able to bond with her because I could care for her. I’d sneak into her room and sleep on her floor, until she was the one sneaking in my room.”

“It’s a good thing, I guess. Where would Ransom sleep?”

She chuckles, finally meeting your eyes. “He used to sleep on our couch when we lived in an apartment. His chest was where I slept. Everyone took turns raising me, until Mimi stepped in,” you quirk up an eyebrow, wondering who this woman was. “Ransom’s mom. Dad’s parents helped when they could. Mom’s family wanted her to get rid of me, and then kicked her out. Mimi wanted to help, but they wouldn’t let her, so she helped with her time. Pulled some strings and got dad and Ran to meet the right people. He’s very important to us.”

“I can tell. He’s very important to me, too.”

”I can tell,” the two of you sit in silence for a moment. Assessing the situation as much as possible before you point to the notebook under her leg. “I’m just working on something.”

“Can I hear it?”

“It won’t be as good as yours,” you hope this is just a thing with you, and that she didn’t lack that much confidence. Being a teenage girl is so hard.

“Do you believe the words you wrote?” This time she doesn’t shrug, but nods her head. “Then it’s perfect,” deeply sighing she strums her guitar and her soft shy voice sings out a simple but truthful song about some stupid boy. No longer singing about dirt but about emotions and pain. Stopping abruptly in the song before growling again.

“I’m stuck right there. I just can’t get that part right,” you hum a moment. Had memorized the melody that she was playing before her mouth drops open, “You already know it?”

“Not really. But you had a good flow. I liked the bit of a breakdown. What if…”

“I got it!” She yips, going on to pick it up a few bars back, and adds in a cute little line before giggling, and scribbling it down. “Thank you!”

“I didn’t do anything, that was all you.”

“Hey, can you tell mom I’ll be down in about thirty minutes?” That is your cue to leave. You understand when you get in the moment, and need your space to let creativity strike fully. Taking your leave to walk down the stairs, and only Sarge is left putting away a few toys.

“Each man had a kid. Ransom took Nixon. It sounds really cute, but it’s just that he didn’t want to clean up this mess. Putting Nixon to bed is a lot easier than this. You want to grab that trash bag?” Responding with picking it up, you help her stuff the remaining garbage in there, and she chuckles. “I always thought you would be a stuck up princess.”

“Oh, is that what you really thought I would be?” Oddly enough people thought a lot of things about you, but you mostly wanted to be left alone.

“It’s not a you thing. A lot of celebrities don’t look at the wives of football players as anything of importance. I’m okay staying in the background. And well, you — you don’t know how to.”

“Ransom’s teaching me,” she offers you a genuine smile before closing up the shed of toys. “Do you like me?”

“I like you just fine, sweetheart. You gotta understand when he brought you to meet my kids and he shows you’re in a relationship. It's more personal. I have nothing against you in the least bit. But my babies are my priority. Especially the girls. Nixie doesn’t know any better. They loved you as someone they would never meet, and now they really love you as their uncle Ran’s girlfriend. Now can I ask you a question?”

Sighing, you nod your head. She meant a lot to not only Ransom, but his mom. You had grown to have a lot of respect for her, especially knowing what she went through to get where she is. “Do you care about him? I mean really really care about him?”

“Yeah, I really really do.”

“Good. Because that man has been good to me, my husband, and my children. He’s a big brother to me. They’re more than just teammates. They’re life mates. I will never get rid of Ransom, and he’s never getting rid of us. So what is this?”

Looking up at the sky, you try and think of the right words. Choosing to shrug your shoulders when you look back at her, “I don’t know. I like it. I like it so much, and I’ve never felt so — so free. Today was amazing, and we didn’t do anything. There weren't the cars, there wasn't the glamor and the drinking. But it was the most at ease I’ve ever felt. And I just want to protect it.”

“That’s good. Now, can I offer you a piece of advice?” You nod your head, trying to ignore Ransom who had softly said your name out the back door. “Take your time in this way. The moment you two go public you know what’s going to happen. Secure your emotions and relationship before that happens. Make sure he’s ready for your level of fame. This woman you were today is not the persona on the stage.”

She is right. You want to protect whatever is happening between you and Ransom keep the two of you in this safe bubble. You aren’t sure if you want to share him with the world. Just show him off a bit. When you’re ready.

Ransom whistles as he looks around the tight little area. Leaning over behind your tech who is only slightly annoyed, so he pushes Ransom away from him. “Please, don’t ask me what any of these buttons are for. It’s complicated. Sit in that chair, sit on the couch, or…”

“Do I get to go in there with her?” You giggle as the tech turns around to glare at Ransom shaking his head. “Why not?”

“Do you sing?”

“No.”

“Are you offering any sounds for the track?”

“I don’t think I am.”

“Then stay on this side. I don’t need your breathing in the background. Alright, the boyfriend is here. Can we go again?” You want to sing and giggle inside with that word, and Ransom straightens up his posture. That word is getting thrown around a lot more in your inner circle, and you’re loving it. You wait for the ticks of the snare drum before you start singing, and Ransom moves closer to the tech, furrowing his brows, but you’re too into the song.

“Who wrote this?”

“Maybelle Browning.”

“No.”

“Yes. Saw the sheet this morning.”

“No, she didn’t. Maeve Barnes wrote this. Hey,” he walks closer, tapping on the glass, and the tech glares at him.

“She can’t hear you.”

“Stop the recording now!” You glance up at the two men when everything halts. Putting up your headphones, and Ransom says something to your tech before barging into the studio. “What are you doing?”

“Recording a song that Maeve wrote.”

“What? H-h-he said that Maybelle dipshit wrote it. What is going on?” You feel a bit guilty for not explaining the situation to Ransom, but you weren’t sure he would know it was Maeve’s song.

“Ran, Maybelle Browning. M.B. Maeve didn’t want her name on it, but she sent it to me with a recording and said she wrote it for me, but didn’t expect it on the album, but then I asked her if I could record it roughly, and send it to her for consideration. She’s getting full credit. She wants this. I wouldn’t…what — did you think I was stealing from her? I wouldn’t. I adore that little girl, and Ran — don’t be mad.”

“Sorry, I’m very protective of — she gets writing credit? And paid?”

“She’s a minor, so I want her parents present when we discuss that with the lawyers, but if she wants it on the album, I do. But I want her full approval. It’s amazing. Ask Todd. Ran, she is incredible. Did you really think I would do that?” He shakes his head no, pulling you into his body. “You promise?”

“That’s just my girl, and I think she’s the best and deserves the world, so I’ll make sure she gets it. It’s not you, it's this life. I know how brutal things can be.”

“You’re talking to a girl who has re-recorded all my past songs, so now I have ownership of the copyrights. I will make sure she gets the best contract, but I won’t be the only artist that will want her lyrics,” Ransom pulls you back, looking down at you, and you want to melt into him. “You promise you didn’t think I would do that? If I can help her achieve a goal, I want to.”

“No. I think you get taken advantage of enough. I have this need to protect everyone I love — and care about,” he softly slots his lips against yours, and you return the kiss. Snaking your arms up around his neck before he lifts you up off the ground. Wrapping your legs around his waist when the tech leaves.

He might not have said it directly, but he said something. It is enough, you’d been feeling the same things. But now you just don’t know how you can keep this all secret. You want to shout to the world that Ransom Drysdale is your man, and you don’t care about the past drama of exes. You care about his smile, and his scent, his thick fingers entwined into yours.

Your fingers weave through his slicked back hair when he pulls off your lips. “Come to a game,” you smile, shaking your head no. You need to know he’s ready. Privacy will be a thing of the past. “Please, come to a game.”

“Ran…”

“No, excuses. I need you at a game. I need our dates not to be at home, or in recording studios. I need to…”

“Claim me?”

“Something like that. Please, I’ll have a comfy little box. Bring a friend, bring whoever. Just watch me play on something that’s not a television.”

“So you want us to go public before you’ve ever seen me naked?” You wiggle your eyebrows, giving him the sweetest smile. You’ve already decided you want to go. There’s nothing more that you want to do besides see Ransom play.

“If you want me to see what you look like naked, I’ll gladly look. But I can’t stand us not being able to be together in public. I want us to be normal, and do normal couple things, and ride off in a car after the game. Just me and you, baby.”

“You know when you’re with me things will never be normal, right? People are going to dig into everything you’ve done. All your social media posts, all your past girlfriends, everything.”

“I know, buddy, but I don’t care. What I care about is you and me. Why are you smiling at me like that? Is that a yes?” You shake your head no, grinning from ear to ear. That name. He wouldn’t know, “What?”

“You called me buddy. That's what my parents have always called me. It’s just sweet.”

“Ehh, I don’t share nicknames, Bud,” he leans back in, giving you the sweetest kiss before resting his forehead against your own, “So what do you say?”

“I’ll go.”

“Yes!”

“Under one condition.”

“Anything.”

“You come to Rhode Island and meet my mom afterwards,” Ransom gulps loudly, but nods his head. “Hey, I’ve been on your turf, and met the Barnes’, so now it’s your turn. And if you could not get hurt during the game.”

“No promises. It’s football, Bud.”

If silence was a sound it would be now. Putting on a bright smile, you let your bodyguards lead you to the designated area. It takes seconds for people to realize it was you, but it feels like an eternity. A simple outfit, but the Patriots jacket you’re wearing is obvious.

Smiling as you talk to the bodyguard on the right, trying to ignore the questions of why you’re here. “Didn’t Drysdale do an interview saying he was going to give her a bracelet with his number on it at a show?”

“She’s just looking for her next victim to write about.”

“Does she even understand football?”

“She’s made comments about Drysdale, and how he was hot. She always gets what she wants.”

“She’s got an 81 on her bracelet! Oh my god!”

It’s all in the details. Of course you are going to wear something that is a nod to Ransom. They just couldn’t see the other details. Holding your head high as you’re led into the box. Taking a deep breath as you look at Ransom’s stage. Everyone else could make your relationship ugly, but you didn’t have to. You are Ransom Drysdale’s girlfriend, and you’re proud of him, so you deserve to be there just like everyone else. Let the press speculate and gossip. You are here to see your boyfriend.

Trying to ignore the cameras is proving difficult. It is part of your job to notice them. Wishing they would put the cameras on the field. On anything but you. You just want to eat chicken tenders, drink beer, and hang out with the Barnes’. Is that so hard?

It’s everyone else on the team that notices you first. Bucky taps on someone’s chest, pointing up at the box, and even a little wave. It creates a dominos effect with the other teammates. Pointing, and crowing about how Ransom was able to wrangle you.

The coach hits Ransom on the shoulder, turning around to point at the box, and his crystal blue eyes spot you. His mouth turns up into that boyish grin, and he mouths, “I can’t believe she’s here,” winking a bit towards you. His focus completely gone as he smiles at you.

Everyone else’s pointing and comments fade away, and you only see that gorgeously handsome man. Your number 81. Normally you have constant flowing of words in moments like these. Trying to think of how you could tell this story with lyrics, but with Ransom there’s just him and an undeniable invisible string between you.

Each year up until this moment it has gotten shorter. Wound tighter as the two of you are pulled together. Now that string has wrapped around both of your legs, tethering you to the other. Everything else disappears but that string and Ransom. Even when you aren’t with him you feel the tug of needing to be with him.

No wonder you had bad relationships that you wanted to work, but something pulled you away. It was this amazing tie that was bringing you to right now. Right here with Ransom. The world may be watching, but all you see is him.

“I see you, Bud,” he mouths, and you get an ever bigger smile on your face. It’s like this love story was written by divine powers. And written just for you and Ransom.

“I only see you, Ran.”

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @pandaxnienke @kcd15 @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @magnificentsaladllama @lokislady82 @rogersbarber

[tis-thedamn-season]

The first single from The Tortured Poets Department is…………. Fortnight featuring @postmalone 🤍 I’ve been such a huge fan of Post because of the writer he is, his musical experimentation and those melodies he creates that just stick in your head forever. I got to witness that magic come to life firsthand when we worked together on Fortnight. Honestly can’t wait for you guys to hear this song at Midnight TONIGHT and see the video at 8pm ET TOMORROW.

forafortnight.com

[tis-thedamn-season]

At this hearing, I stand before my fellow members of The Tortured Poets Department with a summary of my findings. 

Album tonight. 

Fortnight music video tomorrow at 8pm et.

https://taylor.lnk.to/thetorturedpoetsdepartment

[tis-thedamn-season]

All That Glitters, Part 1

Summary: Leaving behind your baby daddy, you are desperate to find a job you are introduced to the nightlife of an exclusive club. The Moonstone Lounge offers you more money than you realized. Coming into contact with Pete Brenner on the first night, and it didn’t go well. Will his attempt to make it up to you, and remove you from the menu for other men to devour work? Will you allow him to dress you, tell you when you should eat, what you should wear, accompany him to his business parties, and even how you greet him? Everything has a price, and Pete's credit card have no limit with you.

Pairings: Pete Brenner X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings:  explicit language, strip club/bar, mentions of companionship, lap dance, somewhat of soliciting, being uncomfortable, drunk Pete, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 3.5K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

“And you said you’re how old?” The large man in front of you gives you a long hard stare, and you avert your eyes to his desk. What age did you tell him? This is why you shouldn’t lie because it always comes back to bite you in the ass.

Think. Distract. You’re of legal age, why should anything else matter?

“I look young for my age,” you answer, and he extends an arm over his desk, opening his hand at you, and you finally look up at him confused, “What?”

“Let me see your ID,” you shake your head no too quickly, and he clears his throat. His fingers spread out more, opening his palm wide, and you feel your throat start to close up. Struggling to breathe while he demands for identification to prove your age.

“I’m of age. I promise. And I really need this job, and…”

“Do you even understand why I need to make sure of your age?” It was a club or bar or something. The girl had promised you a good paycheck. That’s all you need to know. It wasn’t a want anymore, you need this job and the money. “What did Syrilla tell you?” That was her name? Did she even tell you her name?

“Um, she promised I could make good money and wouldn’t need to rely on a man if I didn’t want to,” he nods his head solemnly, wiggling his fingers at you, still motioning for your ID. “I’m of age.”

“Can you keep a secret?” You’ve kept plenty of secrets for people who you were supposed to trust. And now you are all alone. You are beginning to get desperate and you didn’t want to see that happen.

“Is it illegal?”

“Very much so,” you gulp. You need this money. You had exhausted all other options, so you nod your head. “My club doesn’t just deal in alcohol and dances. We deal in privacy and companionship. Do you understand?” You shake your head no. There is so much of this world you didn’t understand. You need him to explicitly say what it is he’s referring to.

“First how old are you really? I have a base age of twenty-one.”

“I’m twenty-two,” you answer honestly. At least that is out of the way, but he holds his hand out wider.

“Prove it,” reluctantly you place your ID in his hand, and it takes him seconds to look at it before he scoffs at you.

“I will be twenty-two in a few months.”

“You like playing games, little one. I need you to trust me above all else. Come on,” he stands up, and you’re sure he’s about to kick you out of his office, and you’re willing to get on your knees and tell him to do whatever he wants to you just so you have a chance. But instead he places a warm hand on the small of your back and leads you deeper into his club.

Walking you through various hallways, before drops his hand and starts climbing a spiral staircase. “This is the catacombs, and we’ll return shortly. I want to show you the main floor. Legal dealings go on up here,” your body flinches when you hear a woman screaming in pleasure. “Ignore that for now,” he tells you dryly, continuing on his ascent from the catacombs.

Emerging from the spiral staircase you get to see the main stage. Decked out in black. Classy. He points to the stage, and looks towards you, “We have dancers. In various forms of nude. Or you can be part of the auction. And I’ll show you more about that later. The girls on the stage are set to make more, but it’s not guaranteed. Some just want to dance. Of course we have the bar.”

“What about…” you usually trust your gut, but for whatever reason you aren’t getting the feeling of impending doom and the need to run away.

“If Syrilla sent you here, you’re really hard up on some money?” You give him a head nod, and further look around the place. It is overwhelming, and if you had parents they might be disappointed at the lengths you were willing to go to make money, but you didn’t care. You had to get out of the life you were in. It was a must, and you would just have to deal with the self doubt later.

“Yeah, I uh…” did you want this man to know everything about you? You feel a kind calming vibe from him. His eyes never stray over your body sizing you up. And there were men in his position that did that. “I have no one, but…my daughter,” his eyes close slowly, and you fear you’ve made a mistake. “She’s one, and we were living with her dad, but he’s — he kicked us out, and then wanted us back, and then we fight, and I have to do something more for her. I don’t do drugs, and…”

Your words come out so quick, and then he waves his hands, shaking his head, “I just need a job, and I’ll do anything. I shouldn’t have brought her up, but —“

“Having a child isn’t an issue. Let me know if you can’t find adequate childcare. We have someone in house that can watch the children. Her age isn’t an issue. The issue is more your willingness to do anything. Are you understanding the more exclusive things that I sell?” What could be the worst thing? Private lap dances? Drugs?

“Women,” his calming blue eyes twinkle as he tilts his head looking at you. Is he really suggesting what you think he is? You had an idea by the poles that there would be dancers. But is there more that he’s willing to sell with women?

“So sex?”

“Only if you want to. I won’t make you sell your body. Some girls sell their time and companionship. Some girls sell an exclusive show where people get to play with her and her toys. Some it’s a very hands on dance that extends to more than the lap. However, sex and companionship is where the money is.”

“No to sex, and I don’t think I follow the companionship part,” companionship didn’t sound too bad. So just become a friend to a sad and lonely man. You could do that. You have done that fo free.

He smiles at you. It’s not malicious or even threatening, it’s understanding. Starting to walk back towards the stairs, and you follow, “Sometimes people just want your company.”

“With clothes on?”

Ari sighs, peeking back at you, “You’re the one that gets to say no to their terms. But yes, sometimes it’s a pretty thing on their arm. That simple. Sometimes they want you to clean their house topless,” he checks back at you, noticing your eyes wide open as you try and envision your tits hanging out as you clean some man’s house, “You know, I think I should put you at the bar and…”

“No, I need more than a bartender can make. Please?”

“I’m going against my better judgment. I’ll put you on at the auction,” putting your body up for sale sounds weird, and going against your judgment, but if that’s where the money is, it’s what you need to do.

“No sex?”

“You establish the boundaries,” he reminds you. Finally his eyes cast down your body, and you look at him nervously. He holds a finger up, and circles it asking for you to spin around which you oblige. “I think there’s more to you than meets the eyes. You have a lot of secrets, Rune.”

“That’s not my name,” you respond, following after him when his long legs take extra big strides and you feel you’re running to keep up.

“And my name is really not Alec,” his silvery blue eyes look back at you, and he winks.

“What…?”

“It’s Ari. We all have nicknames. Never give them your real name unless they’re paying your bills,” what? That is an odd piece of information that you’re not sure how to process. “Wear something that you think will get a lot of attention tonight. Do you have a sitter?” You swallow slowly when he stops to look at you, and he groans.

“You can’t keep me in the dark, do you have a sitter?”

“No.”

“Bring your daughter tonight. Follow me, I’ll show you where the daycare is. And you can only get in with a keycard. Have no worries. You’re also not the only single mom here. You and your daughter are in good hands. Where is she now?” She is currently at a sitter that you didn’t have the money to pay. You’re hoping that she isn’t too angry when you tell her that. Even if you made a mental note to pay her immediately. Along with rent to your shitty apartment.

“I see. Do you need an advancement?”

“If it’s not too much trouble. I don’t do this,” it’s true. But Mickey took everything from you, and even her. At least now you didn’t have to pay for his habits.

“How much do you need for the sitter?” You give him an amount, and he hands over cash before turning back around. “I won’t deal with you being late. Don’t get addicted to anything, even the men you entertain. They look at you as just that, entertainment. Then they’ll go back to their lives and some even have wives. Don’t forget it. And if you have an issue with any of them I need to know. Do not keep secrets about my customers from me. I need to know immediately if they’re being inappropriate. I will be your ally, but only if you let me. So don’t keep your secrets, Rune!”

You glance around the other women lined up to walk on the stage, and then look down at your own body. You didn’t look anything like them. You didn’t know what is more embarrassing getting on stage and realizing nobody wanted to bid on ‘your time’ or the fact you are wearing lingerie and going to be standing in front of a room full of strangers.

One girl gives you a sincere smile, and nods her head, “Don’t be nervous. They can smell that, and you’ll end up with an asshole and Alec will have to deal with it.”

“How many men do you think are out there?” She giggles, eyeing you up and down again. Hearing her whisper how sweet you are. “What?”

“It’s not just men. Remember, don’t be nervous. And hopefully you won’t get some drunk asshole,” turning back towards the stage, she walks out, leaving you to fiddle around with your peach nightie. Picking at the sheer fabric, and then moving to the jewelry. It covered everything, and still you feel you so exposed. It was worth it. A couple hours a night and you can pay rent, and eat something besides ramen. You could buy diapers, and give your daughter a better life.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Walk out. Smile. Don’t be too sexy. Turn to the side. Turn to the back. Ignore the voices. They are bidding, even if one is louder and more obnoxious. See nothing, and you’ll be able to make it alone.

“Just let me be the top bidder, Alec,” don’t look in the audience. Don’t engage. Don’t notice him. He sounds like some drunk asshole. ‘Alec’ rolls his eyes, continuing to watch the bidding. And if someone bids, the loud drunk man outbids them.

Breathe in. Breathe out. This is business. You didn’t have anyone around to be ashamed of you. Your daughter is asleep with someone watching her. “Alright, Pete, looks like you got our newest rarity, Rune. Syrilla,” Ari motions for the woman that told you about this place, and she motions for you to follow.

Ari gives nothing away in his face, but that woman earlier mentioned drunk men. “He’ll probably pass out before you finish?”

“Finish?” you look up at her confused.

“Yes, you said you were okay with a private room. He’s paid for your time and a dance. You only show what you want, the more you show, well…how hungry are you?” She stops to look at you with a regretful small, “That’s insensitive. You’ll get paid regardless. All you agreed to was the dance, clothed or not. It’s your decision. Remember that, and don’t let Pete push you beyond your limits, okay?”

She is being sweet now, but you caught her original inflection. Feeling like if you want to make the big money you’ll have to perform. You decide you’re just going to agree to what he wants, besides sex. At least try. You didn’t have to do anything you weren’t comfortable with.

When Syrilla opens the door, you see Pete sitting in a chair in the center of a small room. Rubbing his thighs and staring at you hungrily. “It’s your decision, Rune,” she reminds you before you walk in. Tucking both hands behind your back, you finally get a good look at him. Businessman.

“Well?” He jeers, leaning back more into his seat, and spreading his legs further apart. “I didn’t spend all that fucking money for you to stand there looking pretty.”

“No hands,” you whisper. Walking closer to him before straddling him, and sitting on his lap. Testing him to see if he’ll actually touch you. He isn’t bad looking. Reeked of smoke and booze, but he is clean. “What do you do?”

“Pay a sweet little thing to give me a fucking lap dance,” he sniffs, moving a hand up to mess with his nose a moment. He did a line. You didn’t have to date him. You are dancing for him. He isn’t Mickey. He’s a client. “You gonna move your cute little ass?”

“You think my ass is cute?” You grind over him, and his eyes go half mast. Leaning his head back to look at the ceiling while you continue to grind on him. Check his fingers. No tan line of a ring, at least he’s not married.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Moving a bit more over him, you stand to turn around. Hands on his thighs while you rotate your ass on his crotch. “Do you find me attractive?” For a drunk man, he isn’t hard. He’s got more control over his cock than most.

“You have no idea,” he moans, lifting his head to look over your shoulder, “You wearing a bra?”

“No, sir.”

“Fuck,” he groans, and you feel a bit more confident to pull your top down enough to expose yourself a tiny bit. Your nipples poke out of the top a bit, and he eyes your hardened buds, and you feel his hands move, but he grips the arms of the chair. “No hands?”

“I’d prefer that,” his hands grip the chair even harder, and you turn to the side. His eyes bounce all around your body. Becoming more comfortable, you pull the top completely down. Exposing yourself from the waist up, and he holds tighter. His knuckles white with the amount of force he uses. “Are you struggling?”

“You have no idea. It’s been a long day.”

“Tell me about it?”

“I’d rather not,” he looks over your shoulder, zeroing in on your chest before he looks back up at the ceiling. Struggling to look when he needs to touch you. Imagining the way your skin would feel under his hands.

“What do you do?”

“Shut the fuck up,” your body stills. His irritation seemed to come from nowhere. Grabbing your hips, he spins you around. Making you straddle him, and he removes his hands back to the chair. “This is what I want to talk about. Not my fucking life. What’s a pretty girl like you, doing here?”

“Money.”

“Tale as old as time. Tell me, sweet Rune, how much would it cost for me to suck on your perfectly round tits? If I give you my week’s salary will you drop to your knees and suck my fat cock?” You try to shuffle off him, but he grabs your hips again. “Do your fucking job.”

“I said no hands,” your eyes look towards the door, and you start to panic. Wishing you could rewind the last few minutes and go back. He drops his hands from you, but when you try to get up he tsks your movements. “I’m uncomfortable.”

“Then quit bringing up my fucking job. I come here to see you and your pretty little tits. Move,” gulping, you start to grind over him again. Undulating your hips to the music, and trying to go back to when things weren’t so tense. “That’s better isn’t it?”

“Yes, sir,” your voice isn’t nearly as animated or light as before. It’s strangled. Worrying on how far you let things go before you call for Ari.

“When I fucking come in here, I don’t want to think about out there. Understand?”

“Noted.”

“Now, about that blowjob?” You shake your head no, and Pete moves closer to your body. Looking up at you through his lashes. Dipping his head lower. Mouth starting to open. “I pay very well.”

“I — I’m not ready. I…”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” so many things flash through your mind as he gets closer. Easy money. Breathe. Don’t let him. You have morals. You’re broke. It’s one blow job. Mickey asked for worse. “One little suck on these bouncy tits,” you give him a head nod because you can't think. Watching as he groans, “I need words,” before his mouth attaches to your nipple, and you try and stay calm.

And then his hand grabs your waist, the other on your other tit, and you feel trapped. Boxed in. “I c-c-can’t. No. Stop. Stopstopstopstop,” you jump off him, scurrying away on the floor when the door flies open, and Pete throws his hands up.

“I stopped when she asked. I asked for permission,” Ari looks towards you, but your eyes are focused on the floor in front of you. Removing yourself from the situation as much as you can. Things had happened way too fast, and you couldn’t think. Couldn’t process what he was even asking.

“And you’re fucking drunk. Out!”

“Now you, promised me a good time, Ari,” he used his real name. Covering your chest you scoot further away from both of them. “And you said…”

“I said not to use that fucking name,” getting right at Pete’s ear, he lets out a whispered growl, “And I said to go fucking slow. She’s not…”

“I get it! Fuck me!” The chair on the floor makes an awful screeching sound as he stands up, looking down at you on the floor and cowered away before he stomps off.

Ari’s thick hand wipes down his face before he turns, and walks towards you. Squatting down before he gives you a soft smile. “You okay?”

“What was that conversation about?”

“Pete had a hard day.”

“He knows you. Did you promise me to him? What is this?”

Clearing his throat, he sits down criss cross in front of you, tilting his head to make you feel comfortable, but you’re just confused. “I mean what I said. It’s all your choice. However, I can sniff out good matches, and…”

“He’s an asshole.”

“He can be. But he doesn’t care much about coming here. He’ll watch, and eat, but he gets bored,” you didn’t understand. You know what happened, and he was enjoying himself. “He was drunk, and I told him not to. He reacts without thinking. I,” Ari looks up to the ceiling, contemplating his words carefully before he’s staring back at you. “I think you’re better suited behind the bar.”

“But I need the money,” he stands up, and you follow suit. Reaching towards you, he pulls the nightie top back over your shoulders. “I really need the money.”

“You’ll be paid for your time tonight, and knowing Pete, a giant bonus. But you’re not ready for this. Go behind the bar, and learn how to deal with the people that come here. Then you can move to a room or companion. You’re not in trouble. In fact, Pete is the issue. But I can’t protect you as well here. Learn some things about yourself. Get to know your boundaries, and then we can talk about coming in here.”

“About the companionship?” This seemed like the best option. But you feel there’s going to be sex involved.

“You’re going to bartend. Sorry, Rune. Go get the little one. Have a good evening. Syrilla will hand you the money for tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow night,” he turns and leaves, making you more determined to not only make him happy with bartending, you would make it back here. Pete just wasn’t the client for you.

Next

Masterlist

@tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @pandaxnienke @rogersbarber @readerofmanybooks99

[tis-thedamn-season]

With Your Touch, Part 3

Summary: you had rules.

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings:  explicit language, teasing, The Verb, grinding, spanking, tension, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.2K

Previous

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Lloyd didn’t lie. Being an early riser, you thought you would see him, but alas he had already left. You walk into Lyla’s bedroom, and see her still sleeping soundly. Her little lips pucker out looking all comfortable and cozy. Her fingers twitching makes you watch her a bit longer. Seeing her already relaxed in this very new environment. Unaware of whatever her mother did to get her here. It’s refreshing to think that she won’t ever remember the life before now.

How could a mother do that to her child? Well, a baby. And Lyla is the sweetest little thing. You had heard her cry a few times in the middle of the night. Even woke up. Listening as Lloyd walked to her room and soothed his daughter. The part that got you was after her cries had stopped he lingered in there a bit longer than you thought necessary. Thinking that maybe he had just been watching her.

It is foreign and yet still one of the sweetest things. You had heard about daddy’s girls, and father’s that adored their daughters. But in this world, you’ve never seen it. Why was he so different? And why did his behavior intrigue you so much? And the dumbass brought up your daddy issues. You did not have daddy issues. Your mother did a great job. And you had a stepfather. He wasn’t terrible. But he did treat you differently than your brother.

You didn’t have daddy issues. That much you know is true. You just had a soft spot for…something. You aren’t even sure what you’re feeling. What you’ve been feeling since being in his apartment, but you are going to blame it on Lloyd. It truly was him. What the fuck even was that last night?

Softly closing her door you venture into the kitchen for some coffee. You need it this morning. What even was that? Why did you — feel? That was the weirdest experience. Something that should have made you uncomfortable, or at the least pissed you off, but it did not. In fact you went to bed confused, and uncomfortably turned on. That shouldn’t have happened, and it did. And you’re left with lingering questions that you have no brain capacity to answer currently.

You couldn’t believe that you allowed this man to command you. Not just you physically but also mentally. Because yes, you had stayed up way too late running the events through your head. He made you ramen noodles. You had pasta with him twice. In one day. And now you’re being such a girl and overthinking everything.

But how could you not? He called out your lack of panties. Was he offering sex when he said if you wanted more than a dildo? That is what it seemed. Thoughts run rampant in your mind as you take a sip of the bitter brew. Moaning at how just the smell alone was waking you up. Sleep evaded you because of these fucking thoughts. And he had to know what he was doing. He mentioned spanking you!

Was he on a power trip? Or maybe it was more than that. And you sound crazy again. You were here to do a job, and that’s what you need to do. Hearing Lyla squeak out some cries, you pour the rest of your coffee down the drain, and walk towards her room. Giving her a big smile when you walk in, and she answers by pouting that lip out and whimpering.

“Oh my goodness. Did Miss Lyla Bee not sleep well, princess? Come here,” leaning over the crib, you pick her up. Holding her close to your chest, you bounce the baby around until her little cries stop. “Are you ready to get you changed and ready for the day? We have such a big day, you and me. We’re going to have some belly time, and we’ll go on a long walk in the park. And you’re probably going to sleep and drink your milk all day.”

She gurgles up at you, and even though she can’t talk, you just know you’re going to enjoy being here with her. There is a thing or two you could learn about yourself by keeping Lyla.

“Peekaboo!” Leaning over Lyla, you pull your hands away from your face waiting for her squealing laugh as the cutest toothless grin smiles up at you. Using your hands to tickle her sides before you hide your face again.

”Peekaboo!” She giggles so loud, kicking her feet around. Eyes shining up at you. She is adorable. All dressed up in her luxurious baby outfit that is full of pink. She may look sweet and adorable, but this is already her second outfit for the day, and she couldn’t even crawl. “You are a messy little thing, you know that?”

She laughs again. Clenching her fists together. “But you are cute!” More laughter rings out from this tiny little thing on the floor. Using her body to roll over onto her belly, and she lifts up her head to look at you, “I am new to this, and I don’t know if this is normal, but I want to celebrate you rolling over! Oh my gosh, that is so cute. Do it again,” you flip her body over, and she quickly rolls back onto her belly.

Lifting up to look at you with a gummy smile. “Why are you so cute?” You squeal, laying on your belly to look at her. “I think you are the most adorable and smart baby in the world, did you know that?” Her mouth opens and closes a bit. Giving you a look of pure adoration, and you soak it all up.

“You don’t do much, but what you do do is incredible. And,” you give her a quick boop to her nose, and she lets out what you could only assume is a giggle, “Yes, you are so cute, and you have your daddy wrapped around your little finger. Yes you do. Do you know if your daddy is dating anyone? He’s a bit…he’s different, ya know?”

“Lloyd!” Ari shouts behind his colleague, and the man turns to glare at him. “What are you doing looking at your phone?” The wider man grabs the device out of his hand, and starts laughing as he looks at Lloyd, “Oh, I see.”

“You see my daughter. Now give me the fucking phone back.”

“No, I see creepy Lloyd watching his daughter’s au pair. Laying on the floor with her ass perfectly placed. Imagine she was naked looking back at you with those innocent eyes. Lifting up that perfect ass for you to rail into her,” Lloyd rolls his eyes. Locking his phone as he settles down in the chair in front of Ari, glaring at him.

“You haven’t thought about fucking that?”

“‘That’ like she’s a possession.”

“Oh, come now, has Lloyd Hansen grown a conscience? You’ve got to be kidding me. You got you a baby girl, and now you want to value women? She’s living in your fucking apartment, and you haven’t even tried?” Ari didn’t need to know exactly what happened. He’d never hear the end of it.

“Didn’t say that,” Lloyd begins, but shakes his head no. “It’s fucking complicated, you know? She’s Roman’s spawn. And she has a job to do, and none of that requires bobbing her mouth on my cock. She is there to watch Lyla Beatrice when I can’t,” Ari smirks, nodding his head, and not believing anything that Lloyd says.

“She’s not a whore wanting to be used.”

“How do you know that?” Lloyd didn’t know that. In fact what he did know was you were obedient, and reacted to him. He could feel the heat wafting off you. Could smell your scent change when he set you on fire. The Verb could not possibly give you all that you deserved in any way shape or form. There is no way that he could treat you like both the princess and slut that you craved.

“She’s got a,” Lloyd wants to retch for even saying the words in the same sentence. “A boyfriend,” Ari lets out a long chuckle, framing his beard with his fingers as he watches the usually in control Lloyd. “And he’s a damn problem.”

“Why is that, sunshine?”

“Because he wants to assert dominance over me. In my fucking house! They’re mine.”

“Who is yours Lloyd?” Ari’s mouth turns up into a devilish smile, and Lloyd pounds his fist on the desk. Ari truly didn’t understand the predicament Lloyd had placed himself in, “Easy there. You wouldn’t want to show your dominance by your temper tantrums.”

“Lyla and her au pair are mine,” he speaks through his teeth. Contemplating on the ways he could get rid of The Verb. It wouldn’t be long. He couldn’t handle staying away from you. He couldn’t possibly know what it takes to be a man that has to be away. He’s young and needy. Stupid and impulsive. It was a matter of time before he messed up.

“So you just want to own her?”

“I pay for her,” Ari purses his lips as he squints at Lloyd, “And I sound like an ass. No, I don’t want to own her.”

“You want to devour her.”

“Shut up,” Lloyd is never the one to concede an argument, so Ari lets it go. Realizing there is much more to whatever is bothering Lloyd, and his lingering obsession with watching you.

Just as he starts to speak up, he gets an alert on his phone, and he grabs it up immediately. Having nothing to do with his job, but there he is. The Verb. The ingrown hair on his perfectly round ass. Standing at the door of his apartment while you hold a slowly drifting asleep Lyla. You stare up at him with a bit of fear in your eyes.

“I will enjoy slowly murdering that boy.”

“You could just show him who is boss,” Lloyd places a finger over his mouth as he turns up the volume. He needs to see your reaction to The Verb being there.

You gulp as you stare at Chase. Giving Lyla a quick glance as you rub a finger over her soft cheek. You need to remember you have a child in your hands, and unfortunately she is about to be used as a barrier.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you don’t even fully open the door. Lloyd was very clear on his rules, no Chase in his home. “I’m working,” you add in, looking back down at Lyla who had fully drifted to sleep. What could you do to wake her up? Keep her interfering in this conversation that wasn’t going to end well for someone.

“Is the weirdo here?”

“Don’t call him that.”

“Fine, is the neurotic nut job that was staring at you like a personalized sex doll here?” Chase had no idea what had transpired between you and Lloyd last night, but you couldn’t forget, and feel a bit annoyed that Chase would use such words against your employee.

“Well, no, he’s not, but,” Chase pushes past you into the front door, and you check the baby to make sure she is still sleeping. “Chase, you can’t be here. There are rules, and…”

“You always follow the rules precisely as they're given,” he falls back onto the lush couch, pulling up the remote. He even turns on the TV. This isn’t going to be good. You just knew Lloyd had cameras all throughout Lyla’s room, probably everywhere you would be with her. Most definitely had a camera on the front door.

“You are always the type to shut up and listen when it comes to a man in authority. Do you know why?”

“No, but you’re going to tell me,” Chase always fancied himself the smartest person in the room. He graduated a few years ahead of you as a psychiatrist. He always assumed that you wanted him to diagnose you. You didn’t. You wanted to have fun, and let off some steam. You didn’t care about his psychoanalysis bullshit. You were doing just fine.

“Because your father left you. Your mother never took up for you concerning your step father, and now you want to be perfect. Hoping that one of the three will not only notice, but will praise you for your good work. It’s why you took this job. You’re in no way equipped to raise a child, but daddy asked you to. So you obliged, and here you are. Of course he stuck you with some weirdo that was looking you up and down, and all I see is my girlfriend being in a place where she is going to let a man she doesn’t know dictate what she needs to do because he’s become your replacement for your father who never loved you apart from being an accessory. And a step father who loved his son, and tolerated you, and a mother who looked at you like a burden because she couldn’t have her perfect life with her new husband.”

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? All of that was not necessary. I didn’t even ask for it. You just opened your arrogant mouth and told me, and it's not true,” he throws both arms over the couch, giving you a cocky little grin and it infuriates you. “It’s not. And I told you months ago I didn’t want to be analyzed.”

“Because you know I’m right. Poor little rich girl. You’re no different than the rest of us. Our parents fucked us up in the head, and now we’re doing what we must to survive. Except you have become a glorified babysitter, and if that jerk has it his way, a blow up doll for his enjoyment,” how could he even say something like that? Like you didn’t even have agency on what you wanted.

“The man pays well, but you’re still under the thumb of a man in power.”

“Is this what this is? You don’t get to power me, so you’re trying to wear me down in hopes that you can?”

His bright blue eyes stare too long at you, while you look at Lyla. Despite the conversation at hand, she remained sleeping peacefully. “Put the baby up, and quit using her as a shield. You know that I’m right, and you’re now refusing to make out with your boyfriend because of the man in charge told you I shouldn’t be here, huh? It’s not your rules, but his. And you’re going to make sure you follow every single one of them. Now, put the baby in her room, and talk to me like an adult. Or are you too scared?”

“She wasn’t held enough when she was with her mom, and she sleeps better when she’s being held.”

“Excuses. Excuses, Dolly,” he almost sneers at you when you pop your sight in his direction. “Go on, go put the baby up. I love when we get into our little debates, and I don’t want to wake the sleeping cherub. Go on,” you didn’t want to have the conversation, or wake her up. And with the way Chase is right now, you’re going to have to do one of them.

You spin on your heels, and walk towards her bedroom. Giving her forehead a kiss before walking back into the living room, and Chase rubs his thighs. Rebelling just enough you sit on the couch beside him, but pull the remote out of his hand, turning off the television. “I told you that you shouldn’t be here.”

“We’re debating.”

“No, you are. And Lloyd doesn’t want strange men in his house. And…”

”I’m your boyfriend. I think it’ll be okay. It’s not like I’m some stranger. We’ve had fun this past year. And,” he pulls your legs over on top of his, running a smooth hand up your thigh before he lifts himself up. Pushing you to lay flat on your back while he hovers over you. “What are you scared about?”

“Losing a job.”

He presses his mouth against your neck as you start to melt a bit. Feeling the heat from his body, coupled with the intense tension you still felt from last night you weaken, “Daddy dearest won’t let that happen,” he whispers against your neck, and you throw all caution into the wind. Lloyd is at work. You aren’t doing anything in front of his daughter. He couldn’t keep you from Chase.

Chase’s thigh goes between your own, and he chuckles when you start to grind on him, “You’re always so needy, sweetheart,” you want to cuss him, and tell him to just get a quickie in. Anytime he talks the paranoia slightly kicks back in. Paranoia, frustration, and being horny isn’t the best combination.

“Shh,” you moan, pulling his mouth towards yours while your fingers fiddle around with his stupid pants. Who needs pants anyways? Stopping a bit to rub over his growing bulge while you mewl his name. “Chase, I…”

He has your panties and leggings halfway pulled down your legs. His hand running through your slick when the front door to the apartment slings open, “I thought I gave you very explicit instructions. The Verb goes immediately!”

“Lloyd,” pushing Chase off your body, you sit up, and stare down at your bare legs. Biting at your lip, and looking between the men. “He was — he was just visiting, and…”

“I said no!” He leans towards Chase getting his face inches away from your boyfriend’s, and his whispered threat is more menacing than any of his yelling, “I said go immediately,” Chase looks at you, saying your name, but you shake your head, “Now!”

He screams so loud you can hear Lyla’s pitiful whimpers from her room. It takes Chase a beat too long to stand up. He buttons up his pants, and gives you a regretful look, but you stare down at your legs like a scolded child. Still afraid to move even though you're exposed when Chase walks out the door, leaving you alone with your neurotic boss.

“I thought I told you…”

“I’m sorry,” your voice is meek and hardly audible, and your eyes never meet his. “He barged in on me. I didn’t ask him to, and he was insistent, and — Lloyd, I’m sorry,” he takes a step back from you. Glancing down at your pants, and barely there underwear before he looks back into your eyes. “I didn’t…”

“I can make sure he never bothers you again.”

“I don’t want you to kill him!”

“And I thought I told you not to be out of your room with no panties on,” your body straightens up, and you glare up at him. Daring to make due on the promise he made you last night. “Stand up,” you shake your head no, and before you can count to three Lloyd is sitting on the couch, and pulling your body over his lap.

Your hands cover your backside, in hopes of not being so exposed, but he swats them away. Gritting through his teeth before he holds both your hands behind your back, and your ass as naked as the day you were born right there for him. “Please, Lloyd, don’t.”

“You knew the rules,” his voice growls as he slaps your left cheek hard. “Count,” you stay silent, and he smacks the other cheek, “I said count, goddammit.”

“Two!” You cry out only to hear him laugh. “Two!”

“You missed the first time, so we’re starting all over again. Let’s make this quick, Dolly, my daughter needs you,” smack! You blubber out one, and his hand smooths over the sphere of your ass with a smile, “Good girl. Now let’s get to five, and I’ll let you get Lyla Bee, so we can have a little talk. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whine, and he spanks you again, “Two.”

Slap. “Three,” this is humiliating, and the worst part is you didn’t hate it. He is giving you more attention than your father or stepfather ever did. Smack. “Four,” it stings, and burns, but when you look back at him, he has a proud smile on his face, and you arch your back to push your ass more into his view.

Spreading your legs a bit so he can also see between your thighs, and you get the hardest slap yet. His hand lingers on your ass, and those large fingers stroke the tender skin softly, “Five,” you weakly say, and he pulls you into a standing position right in front of him.

His face completely facing your exposed core, and he pulls up your panties first. Grinning up at you before the black leggings are pulled up your body, and he taps your hips a few times, “There, there, you did such a good job,” he isn’t even flinching, or looking up at you. He continues to stare at your covered pussy, taking slower, deeper breaths as he inhales your aroma.

“I believe Lyla is still crying. Why don’t you go fetch her,” his voice is so even and deep, showing no emotions as to what just transpired. How is he so calm? “Dolly, you have a job to do,” those eyes look up at you, and his pupils are so wide, very little of the blue is peeking through. Just deep pools of black. Giving him the appearance of being high from spanking you, “Dolly, I need you to get my daughter.”

Giving him a nod, you walk into Lyla’s room, and her sweet face is turned up, and she swishes around trying to find someone that is normally there to comfort her. Been with Lloyd for such a short time, and is already spoiled on touch, “Hey, miss Lyla Bee,” her lips tremble as she looks up at you, trying to calm herself.

It isn’t until you pick her up, and hold her close to your chest that she starts snuggling into you. Calming down even more, “Oh, honey, I’ve got you. I’m right here,” Lloyd listens to your sweet words to Lyla as he cracks his neck. You were going to be the death of him. Twice he took things too far.

But he did warn you what would happen if you didn’t have panties on. And dammit you were right there looking so pretty and…he shouldn't have looked, but he did. Delectable is the perfect word to describe that moment. And you weren’t all innocent in it. You enjoyed it. He could tell from the heat pulsating off your core, and the wet spot that lingers on his leg. You wanted him to see your cunt, so he did look. Trouble. You were the devil for him.

“There’s your daddy,” you coo, bringing Lyla into the living room with you, and she gives Lloyd a sweet smile. “Tell him that you were asleep the whole time.”

“Dolly, do you know why I don’t want that boy here?”

“Because your jealous? Oh — um,” you press your hand over your mouth, wondering if putting your foot in your mouth was an option. “I mean…what I meant to say is…”

“I don’t get jealous. I can have whatever the fuck I want. And what I want is for my daughter to be safe. You may not know it because I’m keeping you and her away from my business, but I am a feared and known man. I have many enemies, and people willing to pay millions of dollars to see me crumble. They want my weaknesses. They want to see me tortured slowly. And do you know what my weakness is?” You shake your head no as you look at the coffee table. Unable to stare at him, and you’re not even sure why.

It is hard to even look at the sweet girl’s face that you’re holding. You feel ashamed. You did have the one rule, and Chase was seeing to it that it was the one that was broken. “My weakness is that tiny little girl in your arms. And you by extension. I have to trust you.”

“I get that, I really do, but —“

“There’s no buts here. There are real people who will not hesitate to kill you or Lyla. Do you understand that?”

“I do. But Chase isn’t one of them, and you want me to break up with him, and —“

He is always interrupting you. He never lets you finish a thought before he tells you what is going to happen. “Keep the fucking asshole. I just don’t want him in my damn house. And just for the record,” Lloyd reaches over towards you to get the baby. Moving his gaze to her instead of you. Almost like it pained him to see you. “You deserve more than that boy can give you. He’s an asshole.”

“You don’t know him,” you only feel like defending him because hearing someone call Chase an asshole reflected on your choice for keeping him. It is silly, but it’s the truth. Chase had his flaws, but he wasn’t all bad.

“I heard what he said to you,” you look up at him, figuring he had cameras in the main rooms, and Lyla’s room. It shouldn’t surprise you, but realizing Lloyd heard Chase’s psychoanalysis was heard by Lloyd is infuriating. “Even if it's true, he shouldn’t have said that to you. You’re not his patient, so don’t let him treat you like one,” he slowly stands up. Leaning over to hand Lyla back to you. “I’m going back to work. Don’t make me regret not spanking you five more times. I mean what I say. Panties off in the bedroom. Panties on out here.”

Lloyd stomps back towards the door. Never giving you and Lyla another glance as he hurries out of the apartment. Sighing as he adjusts his jeans. Trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling he had dwelling between his legs. He wouldn’t allow that moment to be a weakness. You had no effect on him. None.

Lloyd’s dark gaze finds you as you walk out of your bedroom. Wincing on your way into the living room, but you walk past him and into the kitchen. You didn’t know what to say to Lloyd. You had betrayed his trust. He saw you a bit more intimately than he needed to. There’s a lingering embarrassment in the pit of your stomach, and your damn ass hurts.

Grabbing out the things to make a quick snack, you turn around, and there he is. Still glowering at you. His brow is still low on his forehead as he watches you get out different noodles than the first night. Clearly, you and Lloyd had a noodle thing. “Would you like some butter noodles, too?”

“If you’re offering,” he responds solemnly, and you answer with a curt nod. He won’t apologize to you, of that you’re sure of. You just would have to put your foot down a bit more concerning Chase.

“Where do you all have cameras?”

“Anywhere that Lyla will be,” there’s no emotion in his voice, it's just the factual evidence. You aren’t sure where to take the conversation from there. Standing in silence is crippling. It’s like the air in the kitchen is so thick you can’t even breathe. “How is your, um, your ass?”

You snort as you glance back at him. He isn’t as quick with averting his gaze from the subject at hand. “It’s sore,” well, what else are you supposed to say? It feels amazing, thank you for showing me who is boss. I promise to never disobey you ever again.

“Do you understand why I did it?”

The spoon falls onto the counter loudly and you saunter over to the kitchen island where he resides, and lean over it, demanding he looks at you. He does, but his chin is still jutted up. He’s still in control, “Please, don’t try to parent me. I’m a grown woman.”

“People who say that are often trying to convince themselves of that. I’m not parenting though. I have my rules, and I expect you to follow them. That’s strike one. The only reason you’re still even here is because of Roman,” you begin to speak, but he smirks, shaking his head, and you immediately stop talking.

“You do know how to listen, even if it’s not words, I’m impressed. You are Roman’s daughter, and he has been loyal to me. I really don’t give a fuck about him not being present in your life,” his mouth twitches, and you slowly retreat from him. He stops you by wrapping a hand behind your neck, holding you in place. “He knows who I am, and trusted me with his precious daughter.”

“He was just a sperm donor.”

“And for some unknown reason, I like you,” your eyes brighten, and a slight smile pulls up your mouth, “Don’t get to excited, Dolly,” he slides over a tube of cream, and you glance down at it confused, “It’ll help your ass,” is he giving you some form of relief? He sees you uncomfortable and is offering aftercare. Not at all what you had assumed of Lloyd Hansen.

“I should finish the noodles,” you finally pull away from him leaving the cream untouched on the island as you separate the noodles into the bowl. You slide over his bowl, but remain standing as you take a bite.

“Are you struggling to sit down?”

“I think that’s quite obvious, Lloyd.”

“The cream would help.”

“Then why don’t you put it on me since it was you that caused it?”

Lloyd takes a slow bite of his buttery noodles, and then another. Keeping those cool blue eyes on you the entire time he finishes his bowl before letting his fork drop into the bowl with a clink. He stands up, walking around you as he cleans up the mess you made before his body towers behind you.

Leaning his head around you until his mouth is right at the shell of your ear, “Put it on yourself,” he starts to walk back to his bedroom before stopping in the doorway of the kitchen, “Make sure you clean up your mess,” even though you can’t see his face, he smiles. He still had control. And if you want him to put anything on you, you need to learn how to ask with manners. He wouldn’t be commanded. He was the one in control. Despite the strain in his pants. Fucking nymph.

You exhale, not even realizing you had been holding your breath. Sweat beads around your hairline, and you struggle to control your breathing. What is he doing to you to make you feel so…weak? Did you actually want him to see your ass again?

“Ugh,” you groan as you put away your dishes, and grab up the cream. Stopping outside of Lloyd’s bedroom when you hear the shower on, and an angry groan. Moan? You aren’t sure. He sounds like he’s not happy with his shower.

If he wanted to ice you out while also exposing you, you could do the same. You let a phone call from Chase go to voicemail. You weren’t in the mood for his games, or even whatever brand of medicine he had to offer. You are sore, and still left —

Wanting.

Needing.

Fuck Lloyd Hansen.

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @pandaxnienke @theinheriteddutchess @rainydayandmondays @buckybarnesisdaddy @patzammit @xoxo-ls @rebeccapineapple @slutforchrisjamalevans @marvel-wifey-86 @jesevans @ughdontbeboring @infantasywonderland @vampy-doll @i-like-to-read-13 @missacidburn928 @charmed-asylumasylum @honeylovelyy @superflannel @hisredheadedgoddess28 @ughdontbeboring @lostinspace33 @abbyyourlocalmilf @saranghaey

[tis-thedamn-season]

ALL three and a half hours of Taylor Swift | The Eras Tour (My Version), including “cardigan” and FOUR new acoustic songs, are now YOURS to stream anytime you want on Disney+! 

disneyplus.com/TSTheErasTourTaylorsVersion

[tis-thedamn-season]

✨LoViNg HiM wAs ReD✨

[tis-thedamn-season]

This joke never gets old for me 😂😂😂😂

Looks like John Cena made it to the VF party

[tis-thedamn-season]

Taylor what are you DOING

“Old habits die screaming…”

File Name: The Black Dog 🖤

Pre-order the final new edition of THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT with exclusive bonus track “The Black Dog” on my website now

https://taylor.lnk.to/thetorturedpoetsdepartment

📷: Beth Garrabrant

[tis-thedamn-season]

Steve Rogers x me 🙋‍♀️ number 32 or 50 please

Oh!! I love this one so much, but...just don't hate me with this.

There Goes My Life

Summary: just one last time

Pairings: Steve Rogers X Reader

Rating: explicit

Warnings:  explicit language, explicit sexual content, unprotected sex, PIV sex, a smidge of dirty talk, creampie, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1.2K

Series Masterlist

He sighs as his blue eyes peer at your sleeping form. You never listened. It was too easy for him to get in through your window, and just gaze at you while you sleep. He warned you that there was a target on your back. Especially the moment you left SHIELD. It just didn’t seem right anymore. Not without Steve, and not knowing what you now know.

You look peaceful, which is more than what he can say for himself. Your windows seem smaller now, or maybe it was just because he felt he could never get too close to you. The picture of the two of you still sits beside your bed, and he feels an ache in his chest as you cling to his pillow. By now his scent would have worn off considering how you had your face buried into it.

“Cap, you have a short window. I’ll buy you some more time. Enjoy your girl.”

“Thanks, Sam,” he whispers, leaning over to remove his boots. If he didn’t have this need to hold you and enjoy you while he could, he would tell you how stupid it was to leave your window unlocked. But he also knew why.

You are also painfully aware that Steve had someone watch your place. Everything changed in such a short time. You didn’t think he would be coming back, much less as often as he did.

Removing his suit, he lets the mess of what was Captain America drift into your floor. Fully naked, and for a reason, he lifts the blanket on his side, and slides in. His eyes rake over your beautiful sleeping face. There wasn’t enough time for him to just watch you, but he did it all the same. He missed you so much it hurt. So much that he couldn’t even focus on the task at hand because he was waiting on you to tell him what to do. But this isn’t SHIELD, and you no longer were in his ear.

Your full lashes flutter with his warm breath. Your body sidles up to his even more. He’s so proud of you, even in your sleep you knew it was him. He reaches to pull the pillow from your grasp, wanting you to use him instead when your sleepy eyes blink away the clouds from your vision.

“Steve?”

“Shh,” he whispers, his nose pressing up against yours. Every moment with him is bittersweet because you know he’ll be off somewhere else before you wake up again. Leaving you feeling like everything was only a figment of your imagination.

Your lashes flutter close as you absorb his warmth. His breath. And when his lips press against your trembling ones. “Sugar,” he pleads, but you don’t want to waste time. Each time he visited you felt like it would be the last time, and that killed you inside. “Stop.”

“Steve, just take me. Make me forget that you won’t be here in the morning.”

“You make me feel like the biggest asshole.”

“Language, Captain,” he chuckles on your lips. Hoisting his body to hover over yours. His legs positioned in between your own, and he slides his apart as he sinks lower over you. His silky steel cock, lays over your bare mound, and you shutter at the feeling.

“I really hate that you were privy to that moment.”

“Why’s that?” You tease as he grips his length in one hand and runs it through your slick.

“Because every time I growl out filth in your ears, I want them to be your words only. Because even though you hold your head up high, and you look so regal walking into SHIELD, you’re my dirty little slut.”

“Your dirty little slut wishes that you would just fuck her…ahh,” you gulp as his thick veiny member plunges into your depths. Fully sheathing himself into your wet heat, and his weight settles on yours. It is the best kind of smothering. “Tell me you love me.”

“I love you so much,” he grunts as his hips piston in and out of your walls. Pushing and pulling into every bit of you. Molding the two of you together again, and you hope that this was the normal. That you didn’t have to wait months until you got to feel him again. That this was a bad dream, and Steve wasn’t an enemy of the country.

You focus on the way his body cages around yours and how the two of you had so many beautiful plans. Feel only the way his thicker body made you feel so small. The tickle of his beard as he nips along your neck. You swear every part of him got thicker. And it made you more needy for him.

You took every bit of his hard and deep thrusts because your body was made for him. Nobody pulled out the sounds from your lips. There was nobody else you trusted the way you trusted him. In a different world you and Steve would have already been married, and have a baby on the way. He would have given up this fight with the Avengers just to live a normal life.

But those dreams weren’t reality. Now it was a dream that the man you love was becoming so feral with the limited time he had with you. His hands slam on the headboard above you, and his hips stab into you with so much force you start to see stars. This is how he always ended things. He wanted to make sure you almost passed out with pleasure and pressure.

His thrusts make the picture frames rattle on the walls. Your hands cling to his wide hips as you feel yourself start to go blank. Damn this beautiful man. He couldn’t even bear to say goodbye. The solution was to fuck you stupid. Fuck him.

You try and hold on. See the image of Steve gritting his teeth as he forces his orgasm away. Waiting on you to succumb to your exhaustion. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as your walls clench down tight around his cock, and he gets a few more ruts into you before ribbons of hot thick cum fill your belly up.

He stutters his movement as he watches your head lull to the side, and he hates himself for doing this. Hates having to be so careful. There is nothing he wants more than to bask in your silky walls all day. He pulls himself out of you, and smiles when you sleepily whimper at the loss of him.

Giving himself just a moment to stare at your gaping cunt leaking of him. “Captain, it’s time. We gotta be careful.”

He leaves you laying there, but covers you back up. Leaving behind the scent of him on your sheets, and the regret that things aren’t different. This had to be the last time. He was putting you into too much danger. Slowly he’d call the eye from watching you. He’d let you go because that’s how much he loved you.

“I’m always careful,” he says, slipping back into his suit.

But this time — he wasn’t…..

Next

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @pandaxnienke @harrysthiccthighss @donutloverxo @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @bambamwolf87

[tis-thedamn-season]

File Name: The Albatross 🤍

Pre-order the new edition of THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT with exclusive bonus track “The Albatross”on my website now

https://taylor.lnk.to/thetorturedpoetsdepartment

📷: Beth Garrabrant

[tis-thedamn-season]

I love you to the moon and to Saturn and back🥹

i love you guys so much.

I've been sitting here staring at my computer for the longest time trying to figure out exactly what to say. I've been trying to find the words to accurately portray just what you guys mean to me and just how thankful I am for each and every one of you, and I just keep coming up blank. Or maybe it's the tears making it hard to see the screen. Idk. 🙃 (but it's probably the latter)

I think you guys saw this coming way before I did and I'm sorry for leaving you in the dark for so long while I figured out exactly what was next for me. And as difficult as it has been for me to come to this decision... I think my days of fanfic have come to an end.

As some of you know, my debut novel was released on January 16th and since then, my focus has been pulled toward writing book two in the series and I just don't have the mental capacity to do both. I'm so incredibly sorry for that.

I will never EVER be able to express just how much you all mean to me. I will never be able to thank you for giving me the courage to write, for giving me feedback, and for sending me so much love and advice. There are so many things that I'm thankful for when it comes to my writing journey, but at the top of the list, it will always be YOU.

I am where I am in this journey because each and every one of you gave me the confidence to pursue this passion. I hope you know that I'm eternally grateful!!!

I do think now that I've gotten this weight off of my chest, I'll feel better about being on tumblr lmfao i've been feeling guilty about logging on and not having answers about where i am with writing... so please know this definitely isn't goodbye. I love you guys too much for that! But as for writing on this account, I don't think we'll be seeing anything else from me.

It's such a bittersweet feeling and I hope you guys can understand where I'm coming from!

Tumblr will always hold a special place in my heart. Ya'll got me through such a hard time in my life and it means the world.

Thank you, thank you, thank you. I love you so so much.

-- time-for-a-lullaby & time-for-a-library (kait)

I've gotten a couple of asks about book stuff so I'll answer it here at the bottom so I'm not spamming your feed :)

Here's the link to my instagram if you want to follow along! I do post there more frequently.

Here is the link to my website :)

Here is the link to goodreads!

[tis-thedamn-season]

[tis-thedamn-season]

🥹😭🤍

File Name: The Bolter 🤍

Pre-order the new edition of THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT with an exclusive bonus track for a limited time on my website now

https://taylor.lnk.to/thetorturedpoetsdepartment

📷: Beth Garrabrant

[tis-thedamn-season]

remember when people were saying midnights was the breakup album?

lord… I fear you were wrong

April 19 🤍 store.taylorswift.com