#princess scrawlings

[kusuguricafe]

Tickletober 2023 Week 3 (BNHA)

@otomiya-tickles your wish is my command 💖

A/N: Fair warning—this one's a little unhinged 😵‍💫

Summary: Izuku's emotions get the better of him and, unfortunately, Katsuki gets caught in the crossfire

Characters: lee!Bakugou, ler!Deku

Izuku didn’t know how it happened. One minute he was lost in thought, minding his own business, and the next he was sat with a livid, ensnared Katsuki Katsuki, The Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, dangling only a few inches in front of him.

Katsuki had stepped into the common room to get a snack when he noticed Izuku sitting on one of the couches, clearly zoned out. I’ll leave him be, Katsuki thought. That was until four spidery black-green tendrils burst forth from the green haired boy, rapidly approaching Katsuki. They snatched each of his limbs and he was promptly flung over to that same couch.

“...Deku.” Katsuki growled, glaring at Izuku upside down.

“Ah! Kacchan!? How did you get here-oh. Oh.”

“Care to explain?”

How could he let Blackwhip get out of control again!? He hadn’t even noticed Kacchan walk into the common room. Though he had been thinking about him, thinking about his muscular physique, how he wanted to put his hands all over him and—

“Deku! Earth to Deku!”

“AH! S-sorry, Kacchan. Um, I-I really don’t know how this happened. Honest! I didn’t even know you were here!”

“Whatever, just let me go already.”

“Right, yes of course.”

He tried. He really did. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t let go.

“Uhh… About that…”

“Don’t tell me.”

“...”

“You don’t know how to release me?”

Izuku nodded, horrified.

“Alright then. Brace yourself.”

Hands tied behind his back, Katsuki set off some small explosions. It was no use.

“You could have at least picked a less humiliating position, you know!” Katsuki exclaimed. “What is this, some kind of shibari!?”

Katsuki hung like a chandelier, his wrists and ankles bound together while the rest of his body dangled freely.

“I-I-I don’t know! I didn’t do it on purpose, I swear! I wasn’t trying to do anything!”

They stared at each other for a moment.

“...What were you thinking about before this happened?” Katsuki asked.

“Uh, w-well I, uhm…”

“Spit it out!”

“I don’t think you want to know!”

“I do if it’s the only way to get me out of this damn thing!”

Deku groaned. Why this, of all things?

“I was thinking about… you…”

“And?”

“Touch—”

“Touching me!?”

“No no, not like that!!” A bright blush spread across Izuku’s face. “I was thinking about t-t-tickling you.” Izuku avoided Katsuki’s burning gaze.

“...Are you serious?”

Izuku squeezed his eyes shut and nodded. The two boys stayed silent for a moment.

“If… If that’s really the only way, then,” Katsuki started, “Can you at least take us to your room first? If anyone else sees me like this, you’re dead.”

“Right.”

Izuku cautiously stood up. Katsuki was brought up with him. Izuku almost wanted to laugh now, having calmed down after realizing Kacchan truly had no say in this. He checked to see if there was anyone in the hallway before racing as fast as he could back to his dorm. Katsuki lightly bounced up and down with every step Izuku took as he trailed behind him.

Thankfully, Izuku managed to evade everyone else on his way back. He quickly shut the door behind them and brought Katsuki over to his bed. He attempted to set him down onto it, but Katsuki ended up hovering a few inches above it instead. Izuku sighed and sat on the bed himself, facing Kacchan once again.

“Just know I’m going to get you back for this, tenfold.”

“I know.”

Katsuki tugged at his binds, testing his mobility. “Little help here?”

Unable to get a handle on his quirk, Izuku unintentionally shifted Katsuki into a classic shibari pose, his wrists and ankles now bound together behind his back. A few more tendrils burst out of Izuku against his will, securing Katsuki further still. They wrapped around Katsuki’s body in a flattering way, accentuating his form.

“Not helping!”

“Agh, I’m sorry, I can’t control it!” Izuku whined.

“Fine! Just, get on with it!”

The tendrils appeared to tighten as Izuku’s nervousness increased. Katsuki noticed this and, not wanting to prolong the situation, said, “Breathe, nerd. You're stressing your quirk out, or some shit.”

“Oh! I-I think you’re right.”

What a fascinating development, Izuku thought. Seems like I really have to go through with this in order to regain control of Blackwhip. It’s not like Izuku had never tickled Katsuki before. They used to have tickle fights all the time as kids. Being insanely ticklish, Izuku always lost. He had never gotten a real chance to test Katsuki’s limits before…

With no other choice, Izuku reached forward and placed his trembling hands on Kacchan’s waist. Katsuki squeezed his eyes shut. Blackwhip buzzed with anticipation. Izuku focused, squeezing up and down Katsuki’s sides experimentally. Katsuki inhaled sharply. Izuku moved towards Katsuki’s abs and, feeling a little more brave, dug all ten fingers in.

“Hrmph!”

Izuku could feel his nerves dying down. “Come on, Kacchan!” If we have to do this, we might as well enjoy it. “Laugh for me!”

“O-over my dead bohody!”

Izuku could feel a carnal desire festering inside of him. I must want this really badly if Blackwhip is spiraling this wildly out of control, he thought. And if this is my one chance to tickle Kacchan to pieces… I’m going to take that chance.

Blackwhip, heeding Izuku’s call from within, sprouted several more luminescent tendrils. Izuku and his new tendrils surged forward. Izuku vibrated his fingers into Kacchan’s rib cage, searching for every little sensitive spot he could remember. Two of the tendrils snaked around each of Katsuki’s legs, wriggling up his pants and tickling his knees and thighs. Two more snuck up his shirt into his armpits. Another two found his ears. The final four targeted his feet: two brushed his arches while the other two slithered in between his toes.

“BAHAHAHAHA FUHUHAHAHAHAHAHA- WHAHAHAHAHAHAT AHAHAHARE YOU- AHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOAHAHAHA!”

Oh, he couldn’t handle it. Katsuki had never felt anything like this before. It was maddening, yet somehow… kind of addicting.

“IT FEELS SO WEHEHEIRD! G-GEHET YOUR DAMN QUIRK UNDER CONTROHOHAHAHAHA!”

Izuku’s eyes were glowing green. He had an indescribable look on his face—some mixture of elation and determination. He continued to explore Kacchan’s rib cage, trying to find that one spot just above his upper ribs below his arm-

GAHAHAAAAA! DEHEHEHEHEHEKU! NAHAHAHAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERE!!”

Bingo. Katsuki shook his head, it being the only body part he could really move. Blackwhip was still going at its respective targets as Izuku continued to massage those two little spots below Kacchan’s armpits. Katsuki felt as if his mind was turning to mush.

Izuku had never seen Katsuki like this before. He was in some kind of trance, enraptured by Katsuki’s raucous laughter and trembling form. He was enjoying this a little too much.

“P-PLEHEHEHEHEAAAHAHA! STAHAHAHAA!”

Katsuki couldn’t take much more of this. He felt like every single nerve on his body was tingling. He’d never felt this ticklish in his life. How was this even possible!? His position, the mixture of sensations, the look on Deku’s face… It was all too much. He had to do something, anything, to get out of this, but he could barely think. Is this what Deku felt like when he begged for mercy—oh!

“DEHEHEHEHEKU! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHALL MIHAHAHAHIGHT!!”

Their childhood safeword.

“Eeh? Ah!”

Izuku stopped and pulled back immediately after he processed what he had heard. Blackwhip fully retracted seconds later, depositing a dumbfounded Katsuki onto the mattress below.

“Oh, thahank Gohohod…”

“Oh my gosh, Kacchan, are you okay? What happened? I totally blanked out there!”

“I am… I am going to kill you. COME HERE, YOU BASTARD!!!”

“WAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! K-KACCHAHAHAHAHAN!?”

Katsuki tackled Izuku, grabbing his flanks and crackling harmless little explosions all over his waist, hips, and thighs.

“You’re not the only one who can use his quirk for tickle torture! How do you like it, huh!?”

“AHAHAHAHAHAI’M SAHAHAHAHAHAHAHARRY!!”

“Stupid nerd…” Katsuki said to himself, fondly. “You’ll be real sorry by the time I’m done with you!”

#tickling #intense tickling #tickle fic #tickletober #tickletober2023 #katsuki bakugou #lee!bakugou #izuku midoriya #deku #ler!midoriya #ler!deku #bakudeku #blackwhip #bnha #princess scrawlings #request

[senei]

got around to making concepts for the voices. i dont expect to draw these guys often though

#the princesses + tlq are more fun to me idk #if you squint hard enough you'll be able to read the little scrawls that make up my design notes. #slay the princess #sen's drawing again...

[scrawnytreedemon]

I love this stupid idiot so much. My fella. My guy. Loser incarnate <3 Give it up for Him!!!

Oh! Nearly forgot about this

#tloz #twilight princess #usurper king zant #scrawny draws #fan art #WITH THAT ADDITION oh my god the lineup #neon gelpen babe neon gelpen babe delicate ballpoint pen darling DEMENTED DIGITAL SCRAWL DRAWN IN A FIT OF GREAT !!!! #i thought i'd have more presentable stuff of this guy. huh. #anyhow expect niche ship content right after this #my favourite 😋 snkkk

[beastofwant]

SLAY THE PRINCESS IS SO GOOD it is making me CRY from system feelings. That's probably not the intended vibe but ohhhh my god, my friend has been streaming and letting folks choose their own routes so I went with The Adversary and man. There's something about it.

The mutual understanding. You are here to kill her. She wants to live. You will fight, and fight, and fight, until the world ends, until The Long Quiet consumes everything but the two of you, and even then you still try and fight until your bodies give out and you just can't.

And she doesn't blame you, as The Entity. She understands why it is this way. Every ounce of pain, every drop of blood spilled, is necessary for her- and you- in order to collect the pieces of who you are and where you are and why you are.

#mad scrawl #slay the princess

[thegreatcrowdragon]

I played ai dungeon for like. 30 seconds and now I have the sweetest dragon oc known to man 

#he doesn't collect gold or princesses but art. The walls of his cave are full of beautiful carvings that he's created since he was a child #at the bottom there are rudimentary ones. Childish scrawlings of dragons and sometimes people. #but the higher you go the more intricate and detailed they get #until the last and final drawing which spans the ceiling of the cave #a gigantic dragon that slightly curves onto the wall making it appear like its wrapping its wings around the room in a protective embrace #oh btw the dragon's name is Mercy! He picked it himself :)

[gojonanami]

"MIGHT HURT" - SUGURU GETO

✴︎ summary: suguru's popularity is truly a curse, especially when he gets hit on right in front of you. luckily, you both know how to handle those situations. aka i heard this scene from 'no hard feelings' and i had to write a fic about it. ✴︎ contents:: jealousy, crack, fluff, humor, made-up girl from suguru's middle school before he came to jjt, naoya mention ✴ wc: 788

With the two princes of Jujutsu High, it was unfortunate that you had to date the more popular one. 

And no, it wasn’t Satoru. 

Suguru Geto is the more popular one — probably because of his manners, compared to Satoru’s…bluntness. It didn’t hurt that he was polite, a prodigy, and a perfect prince. And how could you complain? 

Except at moments like this you did. 

It was supposed to be a simple mission. And it was. Two grade A curses the two of you exorcise with ease, and now you had one more night to spend at the hotel Jujutsu High had kindly booked — some of the only real alone time two of you rarely had — without Satoru bursting into either one of your dorms (whether the door was locked or not). 

“Finally a date, a real date,” you sigh, walking hand in hand with him, “should we commemorate with a picture?” 

He smiles, rolling his eyes, “I left my phone at the hotel — I didn’t want any interruptions,” and you grin, as he leans in, breath warming your lips like an invitation, “just you and me, Princess,” 

“I like the sound of that,” you murmur — how was it he still could make your heart skip a beat like that? — utterly unfair. And your lips nearly brush when a voice interrupts you. 

“Geto?” Your heads snap over, as the two of you untangle yourselves. A girl in an unfamiliar high school uniform walks over, “it’s you, how are you?” Her lips are curled too widely, her eyes too eager, and her body language completely ignoring your presence. 

Oh, what the f- 

“Fumi?” He asks, lips in that same smile he gave everyone, the painted polite grin he plastered on, “it’s been a long time,” 

“It has. I heard you are going to a school in Tokyo now,” she smiles, “I stay in Tokyo with my family sometimes, we should meet up. I can you give my number,” 

Suguru opens his mouth to reply, but you cut in, a tight lipped smile on your face, “He doesn’t have his phone, so…” you reply, and she acknowledges your existence for a moment, gaze finally sliding to you. 

“Oh, then maybe I can give you my number and you can send it to him,” she offers, and you tilt your head. 

“No need,” and you can see Suguru glance between the two of you, his hands in his pocket. 

“Can’t hurt,” she flutters her eyelashes at Suguru, pouting, and you wonder if she would count as another curse you could exorcise. Although surely a fly head was more trouble than she would be. 

“Might hurt,” and Suguru’s arm snakes around your waist, physically reigning you in. 

“Me and my girlfriend actually have to get back to school, but it was nice to see you again, Fumi,” and he’s scrawling a number down, “here’s my number,” he waves, before ushering you off. She tries to stop you two, to no avail, as Suguru uses a small curse to draw her attention away for a moment before recalling it. 

“Was that necessary?” 

“Well I think using a cursed spirit was preferable to you beating her with your cursed tool, wouldn’t you agree?” he scoffs, but he can’t keep his lips from curling into a smile, “I didn’t really give her my number,” 

“I know,” you were irritated - not stupid. You knew Suguru wouldn’t cheat on you, but you hear a noise escape his throat — and you know he’s laughing. 

And it looks could kill, he would have been as dead as those curses from earlier, “you find this funny, don’t you?” 

“You getting jealous of some girl I barely knew from middle school? Yes, I do,” he snorts, mirth in his tone, “but I could go back and give her my real number if you want,” 

“Do that, and you won’t have to worry Fumi getting hurt, because she won’t be the one getting their ass kicked,” and he laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead, before his lips find yours — and you can feel him smile against your lips, “it’s really annoying that all these people flirt with you, but I guess it’s only because my boyfriend’s hot,” 

“Got a catch didn’t you?” he hums, pressing another kiss to your lips. 

“Lucky me,” you mumble, sarcasm heavy on your tongue, and he’s kissing you more insistently, showering your face with kisses until you smile, pushing him off, giggling, “ok, ok! I’m lucky,” you sigh, burying your face in the crook of his neck again as the two of you walk, “whose number did you give her anyway? Satoru?” 

“No, Naoya,” and you snort, pressing a kiss to your devious boyfriend’s cheek. 

“Poor girl.” 

✴︎ a/n: i watched no hard feelings last night and i couldn't get this idea out of my head. i was gonna write it with gojo, but i remembered how gege said geto was more popular so :)

#sab [mlist] #suguru geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto fanfiction #suguru geto fluff #geto x reader #geto fanfiction #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen fanfiction #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru imagines #geto suguru x you #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

[eddiesxangel]

WILDFLOWER| Rockstar!Eddie Munson x Pop!Princess reader

Summary: Eddie has been out of the limelight for years; raising his daughter, Violet Rose, has been his entire world. He will do anything and everything for his little girl, so when the opportunity to see her favourite pop star when she comes to town, he can’t resist. However, it might not all be just for his daughter…

WC 37.2k

AN: I originally submitted this as an ask to @ceriseheaven and she added to the idea that it’s a fake dating scenario so I have to give her credit for it 🤗 I didn’t think it would ever develop into this but I spent so much time in it so thank you to whoever takes the time to read it 🫡🙏🏻😊

CW: NSFW 18+ ONLY MDNI. Modern day AU, non vecna/non upside down, single!dad/rockstar!Eddie, age gap romance, fake dating, fem Afab reader she/her pronouns, Angst, Fluff, SMUT and a lot of it, read with caution. Soft Dom Eddie x Sub reader, cheating(readers past), self-doubt, anxiety, language, parental abandonment, alcohol consumption, mentions of drug consumption, bad past relationships, no use of y/n, Eddie refers to the reader with pet names. I tried really hard to be conscious about not having any physical descriptions of the reader other than that they are girly and AFAB. The nameless freak's name is Felix bc he deserves a name, damn it!

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

Eddie woke up to the sweetest voice he’d ever heard blasting throughout the surround sound speakers of his house for what felt like the 100th day in a row. He had walked down the grand staircase of his Hollywood Hills mansion to see his sweet baby girl still in her pyjamas. Her usually perfect light chocolate curls now looked like a rat nest from her sleep as she jumped, danced, and sang along to her favourite Pop Star.

As Eddie suspected, you were gracing his TV screen as he turned the corner into the family room. He can’t help but stare as you are in a Barbie pink bathing suit, sitting in a pink polka dot pool floaty, singing along to the song in your latest music video.

Eddie’s first introduction to you was when his daughter asked him to help her put your poster on her bedroom wall when she was 9. Eddie’s throat got tight and dry at the sight of you, posing in a baby blue cardigan and a white tank top underneath paired with a blue miniskirt and knee-high socks; as his eyes skim over the poster, he sees your name scrawled on the bottom right corner like you had “signed” it.

“Who is this, cupcake?” Eddie cleared his throat. “She sings Angel, Duh!” telling him like he was the last person on the earth to find out who you are. He looks at his daughter, keeping his eyes off that little outfit, especially because it is showing off the bellybutton ring you wore, and it’s doing things to his body that he hasn’t felt in years. “That's who I’m forced to listen to 50 times a day?!” He asks eyes bug out of his skull. His daughter would not stop listening to the bubblegum pop song for the past 2 weeks. The first time they had heard it, he was driving her to school. She begged him to download your album, so he asked his assistant to download all your music that was out. Unfortunately for him, at that point, you’d only had out your one song, so he was stuck listening to it on repeat.

“Sweetheart, I know you’re having a good time, but please, can we turn it down.” Eddie was privy to loud music, especially his own. His band Corroded Coffin had been in the industry for almost 2 decades at this point, but now, being 39 and having taken a backseat to raise his 11-year-old, his ears haven’t been so forgiving. “Daddy!” she turned to him with the biggest smile, and his heart melted. She would be a teen soon, and he knew moments like these would be slim to none. Her tiny feet moved her to a running jump into Eddie's arms. Eddie could still lift her up, but she was getting so tall that he couldn’t hold her like this much longer. “Daddy! She is coming here next week can I PLEASE go to the concert? Pretty pretty, please! I’ll do all my chores and my homework, and you won't have to give me my allowance for it pleasepleasepleasepleas-” she begged.

“Alright, Cupcake, first of all, you’re already supposed to do these things regardless. Second, you don’t have to bargain. Was going to surprise you for your birthday!” Eddie smiled. “Oh, thank you, Daddy! thankyouthankyouthankyou!” She latched her arms tightly around his neck, giving him the tightest hug she could. Eddie didn’t disclose the backstage passes he got from his label. He wanted to do everything and anything to make his baby girl happy. He made that promise to her the day she was born.

The day Violet Rose came into the world, his ex told the Doctor to not give her the baby. She didn’t even look at her; she said, “Give it to Eddie.” The word “it” had a sour note that stuck in his memory, even until today. When the Doctor handed her to him, he looked at his cherub-faced angel and fell instantly in love. He would never admit it, but he did cry the first time he held her. She had his eyes and hair, but her nose, skin and lips were all her mother. Eddie was the type of father who would do anything and everything for his kid. He was granted full custody of his daughter and named her Violet Rose. Eddie was never married to his ex-Sarafina… technically. They were drunk and high one night, partying in Vegas when he was young and dumb. Corroded Coffin was in their heyday. He was truly living the rockstar lifestyle. The next week, they both finally sobered up and realized what a terrible mistake they had made and got the marriage annulled.

Months later Sarafina found out she was pregnant. She never wanted to have a baby, and by the time she realized she was pregnant, she was too far into term that she couldn’t do anything about it. She yelled and fought with Eddie, accusing him of "doing this to her” and “that he was the one who ruined her body.” She was a supermodel turned actress; she was career-driven but selfish. She told Eddie she would never be a mother, and either Eddie could take the baby or she would put the baby up for adoption. Eddie, without hesitation, said he would be there to take care of the baby, he would do everything, raise them, and love them no matter what. Even though he was alone and had no idea what parenting entailed, he would be there for his child.

Sarafina begged Eddie to keep the pregnancy hush hush because it would make her “look bad” in the tabloids that she was giving up her baby, so Eddie agreed. He never disclosed to Violet Rose who her mother was. Even to this day, they had no contact. He couldn’t and wouldn’t do that to his Cupcake. He never wanted to have her see the woman who berthed her everywhere in the media, reminding her she wasn’t wanted… just like his own parents did to him. Eddie swore he wouldn’t ever have his baby feel the way he still does; he would make sure of it.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

As the warmer months rolled in, you had a really strong feeling that this would be your summer. You had just finished touring as an opening act with one of the most prominent girl groups from the U.K. this past New Year. You were still on the up and up, even though it’s been about two years since your first #1 hit single, Angel. You’d released your debut self-titled album six months after and recorded a few music videos that had been shown on MTV. This past tour broadened your fan base to help you go international. However, the tabloids were just not as interested in you as you hoped they would be by now. Even with your tour with one of the most prominent Pop groups at the moment, you still had a lot of competition. The pool was over-saturated, and your publicist needed a way for you to stand out of the crowd. Your publicist, Roger, suggested dating someone in the industry a few months after the tour hype had died down.

“But I won’t have time to date someone right now?” You huffed at the silly suggestion. Who would even want to date you? Sure, you got hit on, but no guys ever want to commit. Honestly, you haven’t been on a date in almost two and a half years. You had been so busy focusing on your career that your love life was on standby. You were in your twenties! Going on dates and having fun should have been on the agenda, but that had been set aside once you were signed to your label.

“We will make a deal with someone who also needs some media attention. It won’t be real. Sweetheart, relax. I’ll take care of everything.” Roger really was a good friend and employee. He was a few years older but had been in the industry forever. He has been with you from the start and would never steer you wrong. A publicity stunt meant that there weren’t actual feelings, no commitment; you could do that… Right? Roger explained to you that it would be a handful of public dates and parties, red carpets. No strings attached, no getting your heart broken again. That was months ago, and you soon forgot about the whole thing. You were too busy preparing for your solo North American tour.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The tour has been amazing; you were getting to see places you’ve never been to, filling out larger venues than you had in the past. Your agent claimed that soon enough, you could sell out arenas. The fantasy of performing to huge crowds flooded your mind with flashbacks from the tour with the band. You were snapped back into reality when the stage manager asked if you were okay through the megaphone. You were currently at your final rehearsals for tonight's gig. This was your last show and your biggest. Your six-week tour was finally heading to a close. Tickets for tonight's show had sold out for the original venue within half an hour, so your team decided to move to a larger space; you couldn’t believe it when they told you you felt like you were dreaming.

After rehearsals, your hair and makeup team and stylist worked until you looked like the definition of a ‘Pop Princess,’ not that it took much to begin with. You were a natural beauty. Your skin glowed and was clear from any blemishes. Your teeth had been through whiting and straightened by braces. Your hair was always styled perfectly, and your outfits were styled by only the best. Tonight, you were dressed in your stage outfit, a plaid baby pink miniskirt and a cropped white tube top that said “Angel” across your breast in pink rhinestones. You’d worn this outfit in every colour about 50 times over by now, but you still felt cute every time you put it on.

Before the show, you always did a meet and greet. A lottery of random tickets gets selected, so no one pays extra to meet you. Talking to the people who support you the most was the best part of touring; you loved seeing your fans. As the line of young fans moves forward, your heart swells as you’re reminded why you’re putting in all this work. You were told a super fan was coming in with a special guest; they were to come in last. As you waited for the super fan to arrive, you checked yourself once over in the mirror until you heard the undeniably excited scream coming from a little kid. “Oh my god! It’s really her!” You whip your head around with a genuine smile. A small force hits your body as the little girl runs to you and grips your waist in the tightest hug.

“Hey sweetie, you here all by yourself?” you question concerned. Distracted by the cutie gripping you, you don’t see the man walk into the room behind her. “You accusing me of being a bad father, Angel?” The sultry voice was familiar, but you couldn’t place it. Your head snapped up, and your eyes locked. At that moment, Eddie knew he was done for. Sure, he has a slight crush on you, but now, seeing you in person? He sees hearts surrounding your head, and you’re moving in slow motion; he swore he was struck by Cupid's arrow.

“Oh no, never! I was just worried she had run off with her parents.” You look up, and your heart flutters into your stomach at the sight of the man standing before you. Eddie Munson in the flesh.

Your parents had been huge fans of his band; you knew pretty much all his music from listening to it growing up. He was a musical legend, and not to mention the hottest DILF out there. His hair was still long even after all this time, just a little shorter and more tame than when you saw him on album covers. His broad shoulders filed out his black satin button-up. He styled it by rolling up the sleeves, and was only buttoned to his mid-chest. He showed so much skin that you could see his tattoos. Even the tops of his hands were inked with the signature purple roses he proudly displayed for his daughter. He paired his shirt with black slacks, a black and silver belt, and some boots. As you examined his face, you noticed he had laugh lines around his eyes and probably around his mouth, but it was covered by his short beard. It was hard not to check him out; he looked so damn good.

“I’m just teasing Sweetheart.” You felt the heat of your blood rush to your cheeks at the tone of his voice. “Thank you for coming; they told me I had a special guest but didn’t say who.” You switched your attention back to his daughter; you wanted to make her feel special like all the other fans. “What's your name, Sweetheart?” You ask. “Violet Rose,” She says proudly. “That is such a beautiful name! Your Mommy and Daddy picked a good one.” You smiled at her, but her smile dropped after you spoke. “I don’t have a Mommy.” She shifted her gaze towards her purple light-up sneakers.

Your heart sank because you shouldn’t have mentioned the parents. You knew Eddie was single but didn’t realize her mom wasn’t in the picture. You looked to Eddie, and he gave you an apologetic gaze. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetheart; I’m sure you and your Daddy are the perfect team though, huh? He must be a great Dad to bring you here; I’m sure he isn’t into this kind of music.” You teased, giving Eddie a wink. That seemed to brighten her mood. “Yea! We always sing your songs in the car together on the way to school!” she bragged. That made Eddie blush, and you let out a giggle. The thought of the older metalhead singing along to your music? Priceless. “Oh really? THE Eddie Munson singing along to me? I would pay to see that.” You laugh.

“You know my Daddy?” She looks at you, confused. “Sweetheart, remember how I told you I used to do what this lovely little lady does?” he reminds his daughter. Eddie hadn’t released any new music since his daughter was a toddler, so her confusion wasn’t surprising.

“Ohhhh, you should do a song together! My Daddy sings all the time, and he plays guitar! He can make reallllly good songs,” She praised. “Oh no, Cupcake, I’m sure the Princess of Pop here doesn’t want some old man like me helping her out.” he laughs nervously. “I wouldn’t say old.” You bit your lip.

“5 minutes to curtal call, all performers to the stage.” The announcement over the speaker screeched.

“Sorry, cutie, I have to go, but maybe I’ll see you after the show? You and your Dad can come to the dressing room after OK?” You smiled at them and blew a kiss, aiming it at Eddie before walking out the door. Eddie was speechless. Were you flirting with him? He was at least ten years older or older. You couldn’t possibly be?

Eddie surprisingly enjoyed himself; he knew every song because of Violet Rose, so he ended up singing along to most of the show. Eddie also enjoyed how your body moved on stage; all of your cute little choreographed dances were turning him on the way more than they should. He had to remember that he was currently with his kid, but his thoughts betrayed him. You were always the star of his fantasies when he was alone in bed. Seeing you in person, live on stage, being able to smell your sweet perfume that smelled like cinnamon and vanilla, clinging to his shirt when you gave him a hug at the meet and greet. His thoughts morphed into how after the show, he would take you into your dressing room and bend you over the vanity, flip up your skirt and fuck your brains out.

He snapped out of his daydreams when he heard a blood-curdling scream from his child. She was having so much fun. He loved seeing his Cupcake having the time of her life and could not stop talking about how you’re meeting them again after the show.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

A knock on the door came about 25 minutes after you got off stage, just enough time for you to quickly rinse off and change out of your sweaty stage clothes. “Hey, pretty girl! Hi handsome.” you open the door and greet Violet Rose, and Eddie. You usher them into the greenroom, and Violet asks you a million questions that you gladly answer.

“Vi, I think we should get going. We have more than over-welcomed our stay, and Angel here probably has a lot of people waiting on her.” Eddie checked his watch. A look of disappointment crossed your face. You haven’t even had much of a chance to talk to Eddie. Selfishly that’s why you invited them both back after the show. Your publicist said you should be dating; why not Eddie? He was charming and handsome. “Oh, I didn’t even realize the time, I do have an after-party I should attend, it is for me, after all… I would invite you, little miss, but it’s at a club, adults only.” You gave Eddie a sorry smile. “No, truly, you’ve done more than enough for Vi; we have taken more than enough of your time.” Eddie shook his head. “Ok, well, if you want to come, it’s—actually, here! Give me your phone.” You were never this bold, but you needed to do this for yourself, and what could it hurt? Eddie was hot, and you hadn’t gotten laid in so long.

“Uh, what?” He looked confused, “Trust me,” you gave him a flirtatious smile. He chuckled and handed you his phone. You texted yourself from his cellphone and saved your number in his contacts under Angel just because of what he called you earlier. “I’ll text you the address; feel free to come if you’re up to it; I’ll make sure you’re on the list.” You smile. “Oh, I’m always on the list, Baby.” He stepped closer to you. Eddie forgot where he was for a minute. The second the word baby slipped out of his mouth, he regretted it immediately. His daughter was right there; she had never seen him interact with a woman in any romantic capacity. He cleared his throat after realizing he had said a quick goodbye and dragged Violet Rose out.

Once Eddie pulled into the drive of his home, Violet Rose was already passed out in the car's back seat. He had carried her up to her room, gently placed her on the bed, picked out a pair of her pyjamas, gently woke her up and told her to get changed and into bed. He left hoping she would at least get out of her concert outfit, but he would remind the maid to wash her sheets in the morning just to be safe.

Eddie was so wound up from meeting you tonight he couldn’t go to sleep. He couldn’t go to the club because there was no one to look after Vi. He was so tempted but couldn’t leave her; she was too little. He looked through his phone and remembered you gave him your number. Maybe you were flirting with him? Back in his day, that was definitely a way to tell if a girl liked you. But you were what? At least 21, you could get into a club, and he was 39 and a Dad. He fought back and forth with himself until his phone dinged, grabbing his attention. The name Angel popped up, and he was confused at first, then remembered you had used his phone to get his number.

Angel: Too bad you couldn’t make it tonight, but I understand! Maybe we can meet up some other time?🥰 Angel: Just the two of us…

Eddie was shocked, you were forward and for sure flirting with him and he liked it. You were extremely nervous sending the text.

You were out at the club, tipsy, and your friends had convinced you to send the first text, then one of them grabbed your phone and sent the second one, just to be clear for good measure. While you waited for his reply that felt like a thousand years, you took another tequila shot. Why were you so nervous about his reply? This night was about you! You were supposed to be celebrating your highly successful tour, but the second your phone vibrated, you were unlocking it to see.

Eddie: Thank you so much for making Vi’s night so special, let me take you to dinner as a thank you? 😁

Oh my god, did he asked you out?

Angel: It was my pleasure, but I’ll never pass up the chance for free food😉 Eddie: I’ll call you tomorrow and we can work out the details, have fun and don’t do anything I would do😏

Eddie didn’t text you for the rest of the night, but it was already 1:45 a.m., and you were busy partying.

Eddie did not go to sleep right away after he sent that text. He was like a lovesick teenager while looking through your social media, your Instagram and TikTok. He couldn’t stop looking at the picture the three of you took at the meet and greet. You had looked so cute, the way your outfit clung to your body, showing off all the right places… It was ingrained in his brain. He allowed his mind to drift to dirty thoughts about you again. You were his favourite fantasy.

His hand traced his stomach down further until his fingers traced the tip of his cock. He had been so worked up all night he had to touch himself. His red tip aching to be enveloped by your sweet little cunt. He imagined how your voice would be begging him to fuck you while he stroked his cock; he thought about what you would look like bouncing up and down, swallowing him whole, how soft your boobs would be in his mouth, how you would scream for him. Oh yeah, baby, such a good girl. Taking me so well, you’re a dirty girl, wanting me to fill you. Do you like that? Taking all of it, letting me use you, beg for it, baby. He gripped his fist tighter around himself, aching for release. A loud primal groan left Eddie’s mouth as he came. He knew he was in big trouble. That was one of the hardest times he’d cum in a while. His undeniable crush on you was growing, and he wasn’t sure he could control it.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The following day, you woke up with a nasty hangover and an early morning call from your publicity team. They asked you to meet with them at noon in the office. Worry filled you; what had you done last night? Were you messy? Did someone leak a video of you partying? Your fans were young and impressionable. You had to keep your image somewhat clean. As you showered, getting ready for the day, memories of meeting and texting Eddie flooded your mind. Oh my god, you’d hit on Eddie Munson, and he’d asked you out! That put a little bit more pep in your step.

As you enter the office, you don’t pay much attention to the people surrounding you as you stalk Roger’s office. Looking down at your phone as you open the solid oak door, you almost crash into someone built like a brick wall. Your short stature couldn’t see over their broad shoulders blocking the entrance. You let out a little yelp as you almost spilled the coffee to help your hangover all over your baby blue silk power suit.

“Shit,” you whisper under your breath. The person whips their head around at the sudden admission. You’re still looking at your outfit to see if you’d spill anything on yourself when you hear him.“Fancy meeting you here, Angel.” Your head shoots up; Eddie is the brick wall blocking your way. You try and come up with something witty, but you’re off your game this morning. Why would he be here? Did your texts leak? What is going on?.

“Hello lovely, have a seat. We will get right to it.” You hear Rogers's voice come from behind Eddie and his team. You take a seat at his desk with Eddie sitting beside you. “What's going on?” you ask no one in particular. “We came up with a plan for more publicity, Sweetheart.” Roger smiles. His nicknames never bothered you; he was kind and caring, never talking down to you, and you knew he always had your best interests at heart. “Oh?” You looked to Eddie because why would he be here as well? Roger starts talking, and your attention goes back to him. “You see, Corroded Coffin is coming back from hiatus! A new album will be released in a few months, and they’re going on tour.”

Oh wow! This was so exciting for them! You couldn’t wait to tell your parents the news. Maybe you could get tickets for them as an anniversary gift?

You turn your head back to Eddie with a smile. He’s not looking at you, but the desk held his gaze. There was a look in his eyes like he wasn't listening... like he was off in another world. Did he not like the idea? He asked you out only last night. Maybe he knew before you? Maybe that was why he asked you out?

"Since you and the band are signed to the same label, and Eddie is the band's frontman, we thought this could be a good match. Lord knows the band needs some good publicity since it’s been about 8 years since anything has been released.” Roger explained.

Oh, you see…this was all for show, he must have known before you did. That’s the only reason he asked you out... Your heart sank a little bit knowing now that it was all a part of the plan; but why wouldn’t he tell you? “What do you think darling?” Roger asked. “Well I mean, I guess why not?” What could it hurt? You got along, he was hot, and you knew you wanted no strings attached. No more hurt, not again. “Eddie, how about you?” Eddie snapped out of his trace at the sound of his name. “Uh yeah. Sure, whatever works.” He brushed it off. Eddie hardly looked at you for the rest of the meeting. “Great your people and my people will set up the contract and you can both sign it. Thanks for coming in, we will send it to you by 4:00pm. The both of you have a lovely afternoon.” Roger dismissed you.

Eddie did not pay attention during that entire meeting nor the time he spent signing the contract. He was too in his head about the situation. He was now obligated to date you. He didn’t care that it was all for show because, through his eyes, any time Eddie was to spend with you was precious.

After signing the contract, Eddie started thinking of dates to bring you on because he didn’t read the part where it said the dates would be scheduled and planned by your teams accordingly. They would be strategically coordinated so there would always be paparazzi. He didn’t pay attention to any of the contractual obligations, especially the fine print. He was excited he got to show you off as his girl.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

A few days after the meeting between your team and Eddie's, you received a call from none other than Eddie himself. He called you asking you to come over for dinner, which surprised you even though he said he would. You were nervous because you still had a growing crush on Eddie and wanted to look extra good for him. A million questions ran through your head while deciding on what to wear. Would his daughter be there? You needed to dress cute but casually; it was only at his house, after all… Maybe it was a get-to-know-you-better kind of thing? To get your stories straight? How you had met, how you had “fallen in love,” that sort of thing?

You did your signature soft girl makeup and pulled your hair into a half-up, half-down look to keep your hair out of your eyes. You dressed in your high-waisted light wash Levi jeans that made your ass look out of this world and paired it with a cropped white baby tee and a sage green cropped knit cardigan. You did another spritz for your favourite perfume for good measure. You glanced at yourself one more time in the mirror. Casual, simple, not too much, right? You decided if you didn’t leave right now, you never would.

Eddie opened the door to his mansion seconds after the bell rang. He was already alerted by the gate buzzer, so he had time to get to the door. You nervously wait for him to open up the 10ft door that looks like it could swallow you whole. “Hi Princes-Is that seriously your car?” He chuckled. You turn your head to look behind you to see your baby pink G wagon sitting in the driveway. You shrug your shoulders as your cheeks heat and blush at his teasing. “It was a gift from the label for hitting platinum on my first album.” You shrugged. This version of you seemed to be a lot more shy than the first time Eddie met you.

Eddie thought you were adorable, and you thought he looked like a Greek god standing there in the doorway. “Can I come in?” You asked, reaching to nervously twirl the bottom of your hair with both hands. “Shit, sorry, where are my manners? It’s been a long time since I’ve done this.” He scolded himself after it came out of his mouth. Real fucking smooth, Munson. You giggled at his omission and stepped into his home. You looked around, seeing that it was exactly as you would picture it. The walls were painted dark, warm charcoal accented with gold features, platinum and gold records and Grammy awards mounted to the walls. You were memorized by the things that were distinctly Eddie, but it could use a feminine touch, in your opinion. How did a girly girl like Violet Rose grow up in a place like this?

He led you to the kitchen as he continued the home tour. The kitchen was grand and lush with dark emerald green cabinets, the same charcoal grey walls and brassy gold appliances and hardware. The smell that wafted through your nose as Eddie led you into the room was the best thing you’d smelt in a while. Sure, you can cook for yourself, but who has the time? As you take in the delicious smell, you hum automatically. “It smells so good! What are you making?” You ask, sitting on the brass bar stool. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” He gave you a toothy smile and a wink. That made your whole body flutter, heart, stomach…pussy. He was too charming for his own good. You were screwed and not in the way you wanted to be.

He automatically poured you a glass of white wine and said it would 'pair nicely' with whatever he was cooking for the two of you. “So where is Violet Rose?” You asked, taking a sip. “Sleepover with the Kardashians, they live just up the street.” He shrugged. You choke on the wine; he said it so casually, like they weren’t the most famous family in the world. This world was still very new to you. You hardly had three years under your belt, and he had decades on you. “Oh god! Are you okay?” he rushed to your aid, his large hand spaying over your back, circling it gently. “Yeah, just um, went down the wrong way.” You choked embarrasly as you caught your breath. Eddie squeezed your bicep and returned to the stove to serve the food. “Don’t choke on this, okay? The last thing I need is a headline that says Freak, Eddie Munson kills Beautiful Pop Princess. He placed it before you, and you laughed at his lame joke. Still a bit embarrassed, but that all went away when you saw what he put down in front of you. “Are you some sort of Houdini? Or did you know this was my favourite?” You raised a brow.

Oh, Eddie had known; he saw you post about it when he was stalking your Instagram a few nights prior. He was determined to get it right; he practiced making it a few times for Vi before your date. So much so that she got sick of it and begged him to make her boxed mac and cheese instead.

“A magician never tells his secrets.” He winked at you, sitting right beside you at the kitchen island. Having him this close to you made everything flutter again. You took your first bite, and your initial reaction was to moan at how good it tasted. Your eyes close as your head falls back, enjoying every bite. Eddies cock twitched the second you let out that moan. His breath hitched; he knew your moans would be sweet, but his imagination could not conjure up the sweetness that left your throat. Eddie knew if it was this easy to get you to make that sweet sound in the kitchen, he could just as easily get them out of you in the bedroom as well.

“Eddie this is sooooo good!” you compliment him.

He smiled shyly and thanked you. You sat in a comfortable silence as you enjoyed your homemade dinner. “I was surprised you asked me to your house.” You openly admitted, looking over at him.

“Really? He asked as he took a sip of wine. You watched his tattooed-clad hand grip the glass as he brought the honey-coloured liquid to his plump lips and watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed. “Um, yeah, I guess I was wondering why?” You shook your head out of your daze. “Can’t a man ask a pretty girl on a date?” He teased.

“So this is a date? You asked, confirming. “Why wouldn’t it be?” He asked. “What about the contract?” You asked, fully knowing all dates were to be set up by your two teams and were to be in public. “What about it?” He asked. “I guess I’m surprised you wanted to be alone with me, is all?” You shrugged. “Any man would be stupid to not want you alone, Angel.” His voice deepened.

Your breath hitched, and you took the last sip of your wine. Eddie got up to pour you another glass. As he walked back, he stood behind you, and as he reached over you, you could feel his chest brush up against your back. He let a ringed hand fall on your shoulder for balance as he leaned over to pour you a glass from behind. He smelled intoxicating. His cologne was obviously expensive, rich and all man.

“We should get to know one another better,” He said while subtly moving his stool closer to you. “Oh, ok, what did you want to know?” Your head was still spinning from his scent that lingered in the air around you. “Everything.” His voice was so sultry it hypnotized you. “You’re going to have to be more specific,” you giggle. That second glass of wine was quickly lifting your inhibitions.

“Ok, how about we start with why you’re agreeing to be with an old guy like me when you could have any guy in the world, Sweetheart.” He raised his brows to you. “I wouldn’t call you old.” You admit to him. “I’m turning 40 next year, baby... and you’re what? 21? I could be your father." he begrudgingly admitted.

You laugh again; what the hell was in this wine? “I’m 25, thank you very much, turning 26 next month.” You smiled. “Oh, so you’re a Gemini.” He was quick with his answer. “So I am… and to answer your question, I don’t have time for dating, and the last time I was in a relationship was so long ago. He didn’t respect me or my dreams and said I wasn’t good enough to make it. And to top it all, he went and fucked everyone who wasn’t me…” You looked down at your fork, pushing around with the bits of food still left on your plate.

“Sounds like a little bitch… Pardon my French. I think that you need a real man, someone to take care of you.” A hesitant hand had reached to hold yours that was resting on the black marble countertop, but he backed out and rested it very close beside it. “Or I don’t need a man; I can take care of myself just fine.” Your posture stiffened, still jaded by what your ex had done to you. You had a hard time trusting people who want to get close. Especially now when you can always do something for them, whether that be money, fifteen minutes of fame, or exposure. It all came down to people leeching off one another in this world. Another reason you were hesitant to come tonight was because you knew that Eddie and you had done this deal to do just that for one another. Only this time, it was a mutual agreement; you both know what you’re getting into, so why did it bother you?

“Everyone needs someone, Angel. You can’t be alone forever; humans don’t work that way. We are social creatures we need affection...intimacy.” His tone was strong as he lifted your chin gently in his hand to make you look him in the eyes.

“What about you? You’re a catch; why are you single?” You break your gaze. “Well darlin’, I’m now a full-time dad slash ex-party boy, my reputation precedes me and honestly nobody wants all the baggage that comes with being with me.” He sighs

“Baggage?” You question why a furrowed brow. “You are way too young to know about the things I used to get up to back when I was your age… god that makes me sound old.” He chuckles.

“I think you’re being too hard of yourself; you’re so handsome and charming and a great cook. You, Mr. Munson, are a catch” You smile, reaching to touch his bicep. His eyes flick down to your hand and back up your eyes. He may have been out of the dating scene for almost a decade, but he knew when a girl was flirting with him.

“You trying to butter me up, sweetheart?” He moved closer to you so your noses were almost touching. “What if I am?” Your voice is more than a whisper. “I think we should practice some of our chemistry... we will need to be pretty convincing for the cameras.” you continued.

Eddie didn’t need any more confirmation. He closed the small gap; his plush lips were so gentle, your mouths moved in sync, and his hands moved up to cup your cheeks. You moved so yours rested on the back of his neck.

Kissing Eddie made your head spin; he was firm and in control, but he was so soft, nothing was rushed, and you were both soaking up the moment. You both felt the spark, but neither would care to admit it. This was supposed to be just business, wasn’t it? This didn’t feel like just business. No, this was unbridled attraction. Eddie was the first to pull away. If he hadn’t, another side of him that hadn’t come out in a very long time would be unleashed. He cleared his throat, trying to distract himself from the blood rushing to his cock. You were sad when he pulled away, your head was spinning and you cursed yourself for wanting more. It was only your first date. “I ummm, I guess we can say we have some chemistry?” You scolded yourself. That sounded so lame!

Eddie laughed, “Yeah babe I guess you could say that, but I want to make sure…” He leaned in for another kiss, he was insatiable, it had been years since he’d kissed a woman he cared about, and your mouth was so sweet, your lipgloss tasted like peaches. He got brave, slipped in his tongue, and gripped your waist this time, pulling you closer. The screech of the metal stool being dragged across the hardwood floors was startling, but neither of you reacted. You moaned when his hands gripped the sliver of skin that separated your pants from your top. You placed your hands where they rested before on his neck so you were able to hug yourself closer into him.

“I would definitely say there is some chemistry, Angel.” He pulled away begrudgingly once again. He really needed to stop himself. He could not scare you off, especially on the first date. “You’re a good kisser.” You sigh, eyes still closed, soaking up everything that is Eddie. It made you think about all the other things that Eddie would be good at. Eddie moaned, knowing he could fucking rock your world, but he would have to be patient, he would have to wait.

The rest of the night went smoothly. You had a great time getting to know one another better. You’d learned how he was such a reckless party boy until Vi was born. You bonded on how you both loved to be on stage, how he cannot wait to get back out there but is nervous about releasing new stuff because what if his fans had moved on? You got to know a side of Eddie that the public didn’t ever get a glimpse of.

He glanced at his watch and noticed that it was already 11:30 p.m. You had only gotten there around 7:00 p.m; he didn’t want the night to end but hadn’t an early morning in the studio with the band. He didn’t let you leave without a kiss goodbye. You had melted at his touch, what was supposed to be a quick goodnight kiss turned into a mini make-out session, leaving you with soaked panties to deal with on your drive back to your condo.

As you lay in bed that night, you scroll through your phone, looking at the pictures you took from that night. Roger suggested getting some pictures, putting them on socials, and tagging Eddie in them to get the ball rolling. Your first “date” with Eddie would be set up for next week, and a little bit of gossip never hurt anyone. You look to find the perfect picture to post to your Instagram story. It was a picture of your food, wine, and Eddie's tattooed hand on the counter beside you. His unmistakable purple rose tattoo was in the frame, but you still tagged him just to be safe.

You captioned to picture “Get you a man who can cook just as well as he can sing 😉 @MonsterMunson” That was cute? Right? Oh well too late. You closed your eyes and clicked the post.

A few minutes later you receive a text

Eddie: So I’m your man huh? 😏 Angel: Technically yes, you signed the contact soooo… legally you’re mine lol Eddie: I’m only kidding, Princess Angel: You sure like to tease me a lot😢 Eddie: You will know when I am teasing you, Angel.

It had been about fifteen minutes since Eddie texted you, and he was worried he had crossed a line. Was his flirting too much? Coming on too strong? Maybe this was all contractual to you. Were you calling your publicist to rip up the contact? His thoughts were running wild until he heard his phone go off. He reached for it as it sat facedown on the coffee table. It was a text from you.

Angel: Sorry my phone crashed from all the notifications I’ve been getting about posting the story. Seems like the plan is working!

Maybe this all was just contractual to you after all? But what about that kiss? Eddie was conflicted, fighting with himself, and he was too stubborn to outright ask you. He finally decided to reply 20 minutes later to not look desperate.

Eddie: Great.

When you looked at the reply he seemed off. He used a period. Why was he being dry? He’s old, maybe he thinks punctuation is necessary? You told yourself not to read into it as much.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

You haven’t heard much from Eddie since your first date, which was disappointing, but you kept telling yourself it's because he’s older, he’s busy, he was a single dad, and you understood his hectic lifestyle. He would still text you good morning and good night, but he’d only text you one-word answers; he said he prefers calls over texts. So why hasn’t he called you? Screw it, your first public date was coming up, and you wanted his attention. He was probably in the studio today, so you didn’t want to call him. So you texted him first instead.

Angel: Hi handsome 🥰

An hour had passed, and still no reply. Little did you know that every time you texted Eddie, butterflies would erupt in his stomach, but he had to play it cool. You were doing this all for the show, he thought. After an hour of impatient waiting, you decided to be bold. You needed to get his attention, and an idea struck you. You crossed the room to your walk-in closet and started searching. Eddie saw your contact on his phone screen again as he waited his turn outside the sound booth with Jeff and Felix to get into the booth to do the background vocals while Gareth was perfecting his drum solo.

Your contact name lingered there on the lock screen, taunting him. He shoved his phone back on the table and tried to ignore the incessant need to talk to you. “What's up, man?” Jeff asked Eddie, as he was clearly bothered. “Who’s Angel?” Felix leaned over, looking at Eddied's phone, which lit up again when it was thrown on the coffee table in front of them. The band did not know about the arrangement between you and Eddie. “No one, man, mind your business.” Eddie huffed. “You gotta girl we don’t know about?” Felix laughed. “Maybe it’s his daughter?” Jeff suggested. “Oh, it’s definitely not his daughter.” Felix had Eddie’s phone unlocked in his hand.

“What do you mea- give me that!” Eddie snatched the phone out of Felix’s hands and looked down at a picture of you laying in bed wearing a tight red mini cocktail dress. Most of your face was cut out, but he could see you seductively bite your index finger. Eddie's eyes bulged out of his head. He read the text underneath it.

Angel: “This look ok for our date on Friday?” 🤭

Eddie still hadn’t replied. His brain was too busy short-circuiting. It had been an whole hour and ten minutes of him not answering you, and you were getting annoyed and needy. You sent another text, praying it would finally get his attention. Jeff grabbed the phone from Eddie before he could think.

“Damn, Eddie, you are one lucky man, who is she” Jeff smirked. Before Eddie could get his phone back, your text went through, and Jeff read it out loud.

“From Angel: Maybe it’s too much? I wouldn’t be able to wear any underwear with it… can’t have panty lines showing. Winking face,” Jeff finished and looked at Felix with a smirk. “My man! Still have some game after all this time.” Felix laughed. “When was the last time you were even with a girl?” Jeff asked. Eddie grabbed his phone out of Jeffs's hands, ignoring the question and stormed out of the room.

It was now an hour and fifteen minutes since you triple-texted Eddie... This was pathetic. Just as you were about to wallow in self-pity, your phone started to ring. It was Eddie, your heart leapt into your throat, you answered it on the fourth ring.

“Hey, hot stuff,” You greeted him. “What do you think you’re doing?” Eddie’s voice was stern and hushed like he didn’t want anyone to hear him. “What do you mean?” You tried to play dumb. “Oh, you know exactly what I mean,” he chuckled darkly. “You didn’t like my dress?” you kept your voice sickly sweet and way too innocent. “You’re a little minx, you know that?” Eddie growled through the phone. Your body reacted to his voice so easily, a shiver ran up your spine.“I-I didn’t do anything?” You still played dumb. “You better wear that on Friday, sweetheart, but I’ll need to know if you decide to not wear your panties,” he whispered. “Why?” you were not letting go of this act. “Fuck sweetheart, you’re making me want to do bad things to you.” He sighed. He heard you giggle softly on the other end of the call. “Have I been a bad girl?” the flirting came so naturally when it came to Eddie. “You really know how to wind a man up.” He shook his head. This was all for the show; this wasn’t supposed to be real. Then why were you playing him like it was? “If I was there right now, you have no idea what I wou-”

“Ed! Let’s go, we need you, man!” Gareth cut off Eddie from behind a closed studio door. “Fuck, I gotta go. I’ll talk to you later. No more pictures, ok? The guys damn well near had a heart attack.” And with that, Eddie hung up. So he was at the studio, and you had worked him up. Your plan was working.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The rest of the week flew by, and Friday seemed to sneak up on you. Working in the studio, writing and recording some demos took up much of your time. Eddie was gradually getting better with texting you, but you understood that he was in the same boat as you.

You look at the clock and see it is time to prepare for your date! You take a shower, exfoliating and shaving everywhere because you never know. When you get out, you pour yourself a little glass to loosen. You apply your makeup as you let your hair sit in a towel on top of your head. Your drink was two-thirds gone by the time you dried and styled it. It has been a few hours, and you finally slipped on your tight little dress. You paired it with some black strappy heels and your Armani clutch, and you were ready to go. You gave yourself a once over in the mirror, spritzed some last-minute perfume because you had forgotten, triple-checked you had applied deodorant, applied one last layer of lipgloss, and had to remind yourself less is more. You forced yourself out of the bathroom, or you would keep adding to your ensemble.

Walking out of your bathroom, you hear the apartment buzzer going off. Eddie was to pick you up at 6:00 p.m., and you glanced at your phone to see it was 6:01 p.m. “Hey, sweet girl, buzz me up?” You hear over the intercom. Butterflies erupt in your stomach when you hear his voice. “No need. I’m coming down!” You reassured him. “How can I be a gentleman and pick you up if you won’t let me in?” He laughed.

“Fine, come on up.” You playfully roll your eyes and hold the buzzer for him. You pace your foyer for about 5 minutes, but it feels like forever. You hear a quick knock on the door, and you whip it open so quick your hair blows in its wake. You’re stunned by the man standing before you. Eddie looks delicious. His hair was neatly pulled back in a low bun; he probably put some product in it to keep the frizz away. His all-black suit was tailored for him exactly. His crisp white button-up wasn't done up all the way, showing off his chest tattoos. Eddie lets out a whistle when he sees you; the bouquet of flowers he is holding drops down as he itches his brow with his thumb. “You’re making it awfully hard to be a gentleman, baby… Give me a spin. Let me see you.” he lifts your hand to turn you slowly. Baby. It makes your head spin, or was that because he was literally spinning you? “Beautiful.” He half says under his breath. The hallway was quiet, so you managed to hear whether he intended for you to or not. “We should get going,” You say as you’re about to lock the door. “Wait! Here.” He shoved the flowers into your hands, which you both almost forgot about. The bouquet was a mix of different flowers of all shades of pink, white, and green. A huge smile broke on your face. You weren’t used to this, men opening doors for you, bringing you flowers.

You invited him in, wanting to put them in water before you left. You bent over to find a vase in your bottom cabinets. “No panty lines, I see.” You heard the smugness in his voice. “So you openly admit that you’re checking me out?” you ask, your back still turned to him as you fill the glass with water. You turn to see a smug smile on his face and playfully roll your eyes in return. “We should get going, or else I don’t think I'll be able to leave; you make that dress look criminal.” He sighs." Keep it professional, Mr. Munson. We are on duty tonight.” You giggle as you lock your door. Eddie rests his hand on the small of your back as you walk to the elevator. He opens the car door for you, and you try to cover up your excited smile.

Roger told you the paparazzi will be tipped off and will capture the both of you after you leave. They booked you a table at this new hot spot restaurant called Enzo’s. The food was supposed to be incredible; you were excited about getting a table there.

The walk into the restaurant wasn’t very outrageous. The hostess showed you two your table, a booth seated next to a smaller window… very subtle, Roger. “So what’s your favourite Italian meal?” You asked Eddie, picking up the menu. “Anything when I’m actually in Italy,” He said casually. “Okay, Mr. Hotshot, what about when you’re not in Italy.” You picked up a breadstick, nibbling on the end. “Rissoto alla Milanese,” He says in a flawless accent. “Don’t tell me you speak Italian,” You accuse. The waiter comes to take your drink orders, and Eddie continues on. “Corroded Coffin has a big Italian demographic, surprisingly. We spend a lot of time touring there. This Café in Amalfi has the best pastries you’ll ever taste! I’ll have to take you some time.” He smiles.

The waiter returned with your drinks, but you waited a little longer to order because you still needed to look at the menu. “Oh, you wanna take me to Italy?” you ask while sipping your red wine. “Name a place and time, baby. I’ll fire up the jet.” He sips his amaretto. “You have a jet?” You choke out. You truly forgot how big of a star Eddie Munson is. He is an A list, while you’re more likely on the C list. How is it that he agreed to do this contract with you? “Of course I do.” He said nonchalantly.

After finishing one of the best meals you ever had, a flash of light filters through the window. “And so it starts,” Eddie sighs. Honestly, you had forgotten that this night wasn’t supposed to be an authentic date. You’re supposed to not have any strings attached, no feeling, no commitment, no attraction! Then tell that to your vagina...

“Can I get you anything for dessert?” The waiter asks. “I guess we have to milk it a little longer?” you half-whisper. Eddie orders you a tiramisu to share. “I am having a lot of fun tonight.” Eddie admits, “Me too.” you bite your lip. A few minutes later, your cake is presented on the table. You cheers your silver teaspoons and dig in. You let your senses take over as you put the sweet cake and cream in your mouth. You let out an audible moan as your head falls back. Just like how you did for the meal Eddie Cooked You.

Eddie’s eyes go dark as he hears the moan leave your mouth, forgetting where he is and what he is meant to be doing. “You really know how to tease me, Princess.” Your head snaps back up at Eddie's omission. “I thought you were supposed to be the expert tease?” You place another piece of cake in your mouth and slowly slide the spoon down your lips. Eddie looked at you like he would devour you, and you were willing to let him. Another flash brought the both of you back into reality. Letting out a sigh, you both decided to wrap up the date. Eddie paid and grabbed your hand to help you out of the booth. “Ready for this shit show, Princess?” He wrapped a protective arm around your shoulder. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” You said while peering into his beautiful brown eyes.

Eddie opened the doors of Enzo’s, and it was like walking into a circus. There were what looked like 15 Paps, all surrounding the doors, the bright flashes, the yelling of your names, so many voices telling you where to look. You smiled slightly and watched where your and Eddie's feet took you.

You suddenly felt someone grab the back of your dress, making you let out a small yelp. Eddie asks you what’s wrong. You tell him someone grabbed you, and something switches within Eddie. “Who put their hands on my girl?” Eddie was seeing red. You begged Eddie to get you to the car before a fight broke out. He saw the fear in your eyes, pushed your way through the sea of cameras, and safely made it to the car. “You okay, Angel?” Eddie asked once he was in the driver's seat. “Yeah, I think so. That was really scary,” you say while steadying your breath. “First time?” He asks you while resting his hand on the back of my head for comfort. “That obvious?” You say with a shaky laugh. “I’ve been doing this for ten-plus years, Angel. It never gets any easier.” He shook his head.

“Thank you for standing up for me.” You go to grab his other hand that was resting on the console, and you give it a light squeeze. The moment was so intimate you were dying to kiss him. His lips were stained red from the tomato sauce, and his cologne was so intoxicating. To just lean in a little bit more...

The cameras were still flashing, and Eddie needed to get the both of you out of there, “They’ve had their fair share of pictures.” He whispers as he leans back. He wants to kiss you; he so wants to kiss you at this moment, but he doesn’t want to kiss you just for cameras. He wants that between the two of you, away from the public. But you didn’t know that. You think it’s hit him that this is all for the show, that he is just doing this for the contract. You are so far into your head the rest of the way home. You’re very quiet compared to when you were at dinner with Eddie.

“Everything okay, Baby?” Eddie asks as he pulls into your building's visitor parking spot. “Yeah, just a crazy night… Well, thank you for dinner. I believe we pulled it off, um, goodnight.” You shake it off and go to open the passenger door.

“Woah woah woah, slow down, let me.” He reaches out to stop you, and you roll your eyes at his need to be gentlemanly. You see him scurry around the front of the car. He swings the door open and holds out his hand to help you out of the car. “M’lady” slips out as he helps you stand.

“Thank you, kind sir.” You give a small curtsy. “I’ll walk you to your apartment. Make sure you get home safe.” He guides you to the elevators. Hand resting on your back the whole way up, you were so tempted to lean your head on his shoulder, but you had to remind yourself this was all an act even though you wanted it to be more.

“Well... this is me.” You say as you get to your front door. An internal cringe runs through your body. Of course, he knows this is you. He picked you up from here mere hours ago. “So it is,” Eddie says, hoping you invite him in. “Um, well, thanks for dinner, goodnight.” You turn to unlock the door, but Eddie stops you by placing his hand on your hand with the keys. “Woah, hold on, Sweetheart, you’re not getting away that easy. What’s going on in that pretty head of yours? Hm, you’ve been quiet since the car?” He lifted your chin up to look at him. “This is all so new for me. I guess I’m overwhelmed.” It wasn’t a lie; it was overwhelming this new life you made for yourself. “I know, Angel, this world is crazy, but you have me, okay? You don’t have anything to be afraid of.” He reassured you, but it didn’t help. You had lots to be afraid of. You were scared of your feelings for Eddie; you’re scared he doesn’t feel the same way.

Eddie saw the look on your face; your thoughts were spinning, and he saw the wheels in your head turning. He wanted to make it all go away. He needed to make you feel better, to turn off all your thoughts. Eddie did what he knew best; he leaned in to kiss you. It was unexpected. It caught you off guard but brought you back to reality. Eddie was soft and gentle. A peck was all it was, but it was more than that underneath. You two had something special, it was undeniable that you both felt it but were too chicken to admit it.

Eddie was the first to pull away once again, and you hated that he did. “Do you want to come inside?” You don’t know where that offer came from. This was not how the night was to end up. “Are you sure, Angel? You were ready to shoo me off your doorstep a minute ago.” He chuckled. “Do you want some coffee?” You started to unlock your door.

“I don’t think coffee is what I want to consume if I join because of how you’re wearing that dress…” He has that look again like he could eat you. A shiver runs down your spine. “I thought you were trying to be a gentleman? Am I not a Lady.” You turn in your doorway. “Yes, and a Lady she shall stay…for now.” He leaned in to give you one last head-spinning kiss. “Goodnight, Baby.” He takes your hand and raises it to his mouth. “Let me know when you get home safe.” You hum. Eddie has you hypnotized.

After seeing him get into the elevator, you lock your door and start to get unready. You plop down on your bed, makeup wipe in hand, feeling conflicted. On one hand, you have Eddie at your fingertips; on the other, you have your entire career to worry about. You ultimately decide that not sleeping with Eddie was the best choice. It keeps things simple and sure your pussy throbs whenever he kisses or touches you, but that would go away… right? You haven’t been touched in a while.…that’s all it is, so why can’t you help yourself from reaching down further until you feel your wet folds? You had no panties on; it wasn’t a lie on your part. You could feel your slick coating the tops of your inner thighs. You were so wet. How had you just noticed now? Your pussy was begging for attention. You had to give in.

You stripped off your dress you were laying there naked in your bed. You thought about how Eddie’s lips felt against yours, how his big hands felt when he rested them on your back and thigh while driving. You thought about what his skilled mouth was capable of. Your clit was screaming at you for relief as you teased yourself getting ready. You couldn’t take it anymore. You gave yourself the relief you needed, circling your clit with just the right amount of pressure. Your other hand explored your breasts, toying with each nipple that sent a sensation of pleasure straight to your pussy. You kept thinking about Eddie dominating you, how he would use such filthy words. Do you like being such a dirty little girl for me? Letting me use you as my little fuck toy? Such a good girl for me.

You imagined Eddie’s voice repeating those words repeatedly until your head was spinning, the coil in your lower belly was tightening, it was about to snap, so close, you curled harder and harder. You’re lost in the feeling; you don’t even realize your phone is ringing… until you do. It broke you out of the almost orgasm. Fuck you lost it.

You angrily look to see who is calling; your mood switches when you see the man of your fantasy face timing you, so you answer, not thinking about how you're naked. “Hey, pretty girl, made it home.” He smiled. It looked like he was sitting in his bed. “You made good time,” You say, panting, slowly regaining your breath. “Are you naked?!” Eddie's eyes bulge out of his head.

“Who is that, Daddy?” you both hear a small voice coming from Eddie’s end. “Shit,” he said under his breath before he continued, “Cupcake, go back to bed. It’s midnight, way past your bedtime!” He’s talking to his daughter, and you scramble to put on the old t-shirt you had lying on your bed from getting ready earlier.

“Is that Poppy?” You can hear the excitement in her voice. Who is Poppy? Did he have another girl around he didn’t tell you about? “Poppy? Who’s Poppy?” Eddie asks Violet Rose, confused. “POPPY! like Princess of POP!” She explains that he’s a moron. Eddie still doesn’t understand, so she continues, “You call her Angle; I call her Poppy because a Poppy is also a flower, just like me! VIOLET ROSE and POPPY” She spells it out for him. Your heart swells that they both have nicknames to use for you. “I like that, Vi. We can be flower power buddies.” You giggle at the nickname.

The padding of her feet sped up like she was running at the sound of your voice. Eddie shook on the screen before you, and he let out an “oof” sound. “Violet Rose, do not make me ask you again,” his voice was stern. “But Daddy, pleeeeeeease, I just want to say hi, and I’ll go to bed! I pinky promise!” You see her milk chocolate curls pop into view.

“Hiiiiiiiiiiii Poppy! You should come over to our house now you and Daddy are friends! You can come to my pool party! ” She is such a sweet kid. “Hi, cutie, I’ll have to ensure that’s okay with your Dad.” You reply, looking at him. Eddie’s brows furrow, thinking about if that’s a good idea or not?

“Cupcake, you said hello now go to bed,” Eddie chides. “Fine… byeeee!” She waves furiously at the phone camera and slumps off the bed out of view. “Sorry about her; she is very excitable when it comes to you. She hasn’t stopped talking about the concert,” he apologized. “It’s okay, baby; she’s adorable and a really sweet kid.” Baby, it just slipped out. You try and play it off like nothing happened, but Eddie couldn’t allow that.

“Baby, huh? I thought we were off duty?” He slides down his pillows, resting a hand behind his head, propping his head up. You can see the swell of his bicep flexing behind his head, and you blush at the accusation. “Off the clock or not, there is no denying you’re a babe. Some may even say DILF,” What had gotten into you?! Maybe it was all that fancy Italian wine from the restaurant; that was it, definitely. “DILF, huh? What exactly were you doing when I called?” his tone changed. It was sultry and deep, and it shot right through to your core. “Wouldn’t you like to know?” Two can play at this game. “Where you touching yourself, Angel?” He questioned. “Mr. Munson, I have never!” You throw your hand up to your chest dramatically. This made Eddie laugh, so you loved the sound of his laugh and the way his eyes crinkled, making his crow's feet even more pronounced.

“Please, Sweetheart, Mr. Munson is my uncle, don’t make me feel that old.” He shook his head. “Do you think I was touching myself to the thought of you? You dirty old man?” You couldn’t keep a straight face. You let out a barked laugh and apologized. “I’m sorry,” you say between giggles. “I’ll never say that again! I think it’s the wine; my head feels loopy.” You slunk back into your pillows and rested your head. Eddie just laughed in return but thought you were cute and funny. You were easy to talk to. “You look awfully comfortable, Princess.” He wished he was lying beside you. “Wish you were joining me,” you half whispered while fighting to keep your eyes open. “Yeah, me too. Sweet dreams, Angel." Eddie whispers in return. You think you’re dreaming it as you drift off.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The next morning, Roger called to give you an update. “You guys sure sold it last night, let me tell ya! You sure you don’t want to go into acting?” He questioned, “Oh Rog, come on, I’m not that good of an actor,” you brush off. “Sweetheart, please, I saw the video on TMZ, the way Eddie blew up at that pap for bumping into you? Genius!” He exclaimed.

“It wasn’t just a bump, they grabbed me.” You huffed. “Well, whatever happened, I’m glad you’re okay, and you have everyone talking about the both of you!” The plan truly was working, so why did you feel so shitty? “Does the contract say anything about restrictions about when we see one another?” you ask, biting your perfectly manicured thumb. “No, why do you ask?” Roger asks, confused. “Well, his daughter invited me to her pool party, and I was thinking about going?” You had to play this off right; you can’t let Roger know your true feelings and call the whole thing off. “Can’t see anything wrong with that, I suppose? It will make it look more real if you’re seen going over to his house, if anything! Give me a time and address, and I’ll set it up.” He chimed.

Shit, this is not what you wanted.

“Uh, I’m not sure I want the paps around because of his kid; it doesn’t feel right. What if I just do more social media postings?” You rush out. “Fine, but send it to me first; I must approve everything.” Roger commanded.“Ok, thanks, Rog,” you sighed with relief. “Bye, sweetheart.” He hung up.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

A week later, you arrive at Eddie’s house around 1:00 p.m. and hear your song blasting from the speakers, which you presume are in the backyard. You make your way around to the side gate Eddie said for you to come through since that’s where all of them were. You walk around the garden to see 7 little girls splashing in the swimming pool and poor Eddie looking so stressed about being the only supervisor. You let out a soft giggle to yourself when you take him in. He was such a girl dad; you could see he had bright pink and blue nail polish that was clearly done by a child. His hair was up in a high ponytail with different butterfly clips pinning his bangs back, glitter in his beard, and he had on purple eyeshadow that matched the glittery purple feather boa wrapped around his neck. It was a great contrast to the all-black ensemble he was sporting. It made your heart melt to see him being such a good sport about all of this. You could tell he literally would do anything to make his child happy.

“I see you are testing out a new stage look.” You motion up and down. Eddie doesn’t care; he immediately embraces you in a tight hug. “Thank god you’re here!” You can feel the stress in his body melt away when you hug him back. “Of course, I’ll do anything for Vi.” You smiled up at him, making the butterflies in his stomach come to life. Eddie was simp, and he knew it. You’re everything he has ever wanted; he just had to convince you he was what you needed. “That bad, huh?” You cock your head to the side. Eddie could kiss you, and he would if his daughter wasn’t five feet away from him. “You know, I thought I would be okay. I’ve done this before, but now she is twelve and a preteen, and I don’t know what I am doing anymore. Soon, she will be a teenager, and I’m going to be the guy she won’t come to for advice, and she will be drinking and partying and the BOYS! Oh god, the boys! Or girls, you never know? I don’t care, but I can’t deal with anyone breaking her heart and-” “Eddie, breathe.” You touch his biceps, rubbing your hands up and down, grounding him back to reality. “I can handle this; why don’t you go have a smoke, take a breather, grab some water or maybe something stronger, and I’ll be right here watching them, okay?” Your vanilla cinnamon perfume is wafting his senses, calming him down. You were grounding him, letting him know you’re here for him. He didn’t think he could fall for you any harder, but here you are, showing up for him and his baby girl.

Eddie returned back to the yard about twenty minutes later. In all honesty, he had needed two cigarettes to calm himself. When he finished his smoke break, he grabbed a tray and brought out glasses of lemonade for everyone. He walked back out and was stopped in his tracks; he was taking you in for the first time that day. The sight of you in your Barbie pink bathing suit, the same one from that music video. You have all the girls lined up, teaching them some choreography you learned from the same music video. You were so patient and kind and looked so good in that bathing suit. Eddie forgot where he was for a moment; his mind flashed to him between your legs, shifting that small piece of nylon to the side so he could ravish you.

“Dad, look what we learned!” His thoughts were cut off by the sweet voice of his daughter. Fucking hell, Munson get it together, he scolded himself. You were like a damn succubus pulling him into a dirty world he never wanted to escape from. “Looking good, ladies.” He couldn’t peel his eyes away from you; the way your hips shifted side to side, it was all innocent, of course, but that didn’t change the fact that Eddie couldn’t help himself.

“Daddy, is Poppy your girlfriend?” Eddie's head snapped up from the conversation he was having with you at the head of the table while the rest of the girls were having their sandwiches. His head snaps back to you, then back to Violet Rose, “Well-” he clears his throat, thinking about his options. He could tell Vi and the rest of her friends the truth and have to risk them blabbing to their parents and getting the story leaked, or he could lie to his daughter…

Eddie grabs your hand. “You see, Vi, Angel is very special to me.” Not a lie. “So she and I have gone out on some dates.” This is also not a lie. “So, yes, she is my girlfriend.” Also, not technically a lie? “Why is she your girlfriend?” This was Violet Roses's first experience with her father dating someone and, on top of that, dating someone so publicly, but this was not a question Eddie was prepared for. “Um, well, Cupcake,” Eddie was now looking you dead in the eyes. “When you find someone that makes you happy, you want to be with that person… commit to that person. She is kind, she is funny and easy to talk to. She understands what it’s like to be in this crazy world we call Hollywood. She knows how to make me feel cared for and respected. When you find someone like that, you never want to let them go, so you ask them to be with you… that’s why she is my-my girlfriend.” The words spewed out of Eddie like word vomit.

He admitted to many preteen girls his admiration for you and felt his cheeks turning bright red. He will blame the sun. A bunch of “awwwwwes” escaped the table, even if you looked at him like he just gave you the world.

“Who wants ice cream?” He shot up from the table and started walking inside.

“Wow, you almost convinced me you really meant what you were saying.” Eddie jumped, not thinking you had followed him back into the house. “Uhhh yeah- totally.” He cleared his throat. “You really had me going there; you sure you’re also not an actor?” You giggle a little bit uncomfortably. You had wished his words were sincere. He shook his head no and went to the freezer to get the ice cream to make milkshakes. “um, so anyways…Roger said we needed to take pictures together and post them.” You changed the subject. “Oh, um, okay, I guess yeah, why not?” Eddie was visibly frazzled, and you still think it’s because of the party.

“Here, let me get this for them? You go get freshened up, and we can take some pictures, okay?” you give him a soft smile. “What, I look that bad, Princess? Don’t want to be seen with an old man?” He scoffs. “Oh, um, I mean, if you want the whole world to see badass Eddie Munson looking like Violet Rose’s personal Barbie Styling Head, then by all means,” You giggle. Eddie had totally forgotten about the little makeover the girls gave him this entire time.“Shit,” he ran to the bathroom to fix himself.

“She going to be my mom”

“You’re so lucky! I wish she would be my mom!”

“You already have a mom. And I don't! ”

Those are the words you overhear when you go back outside with the assortment of different flavour milkshakes. Oh fuck.

“Who wants ice cream?” You ask in a sing-song voice, changing the subject immediately.

Eddie returned about ten minutes later to take an assortment of pictures and send them to Roger for approval. Roger sends you back the ones you can post on your main feed and your stories. He assigned you and Eddie each your own ones to post.

The one of you standing by Eddie's side and him kissing your cheek and Violet Rose with the biggest smile on her face in front of the both of you was your favourite. You got to post that one, and Eddie got to post the one of you and Violet Rose holding hands and dancing. The internet went wild. Everyone was saying how you were such a cute family, how everyone shipped the two of you. It seemed like your perfect little world wasn’t so fake after all? Maybe it could be real?

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

Being Eddie Munson's fake girlfriend was a dream. He took you out on dates; most were planned by the publicity team, but he would ask you to see him without them knowing because he “wanted to see one another without paparazzi.” He pampered you like no other man had in the past, and he wasn’t even your real boyfriend. He likes to buy you things, little things he sees that remind him of you. The last thing he got you were matching bunny slippers with Violet Rose because “you’re just so cute.”

Things between the two of you were becoming routine. You would go over to his house after long studio sessions. You would hang out with Violet Rose even if Eddie wasn’t home yet. You were becoming very attached to her. She would always be able to bring your mood up no matter how you were feeling. Around 4:30p.m, you’d gotten a call from Eddie, who was panicked. “I’m so sorry. I hate to ask this of you, but the nanny had a family emergency, and I won’t be home until I don’t even know when? I didn’t have anyone else to call, and I trust you with her, so can you stay with VR until I get home?” He was frantic. Your heart fluttered that he trusted you enough to watch over Vi. “Eddie, it’s okay, I’m free to watch her- Oh! We can have a pyjama party! We can paint our nails, do some face masks, eat junk food, and watch movies! Oh, it will be so fun!” You hear Eddie release the breath that he was holding.“Thank you so much. You truly are my Angel. You’re sure you’re okay with this?” you can hear the worry in his voice, so you reassure him that it will only be a few hours and everything will be okay.

“Baby Munson?! Your dad is running late, so it’s just us girls for now; you okay with that?” you smiled at her after the Nanny let you in as she was dashing out the door. “OH EM GEEEEEEE!” She jumped up and down with excitement. You had packed your bag with all the essentials for the ultimate slumber party. You had stopped at the store to get sheet masks, candies and chips, and some teen magazines with those fun quizzes. “Go put in your pyjamas. We are having a slumber party!” You told her and went to the bathroom to change into yours, only you realize that you had forgotten the most important part of the pyjama party, the pyjamas. Shit

You exit the bathroom still in your jeans and t-shirt as Violet storms down the stairs, sounding like a herd of Elephants. “Where are your pj’s?” she asks. “Silly me was too excited about getting all the supplies. I forgot to pack them,” You admit. “That's okay, you can wear my dad’s! He lets me sleep in his old t-shirts all the time!” She tugs your hand before you can protest and drags you to his room.

“Violet, are you sure it’s okay for me to be in here?” You take in Eddie’s bedroom. It seems very intimate to be inside someone's personal space. Violet Rose rifles through Eddie’s armour and passes you a faded Corroded Coffin tour shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants.

“Are you sure this is okay?” You ask her again. “Yeah, you’re his girlfriend? Why wouldn’t it be?” She quizzes you. She makes a very good point. You huff in defeat and walk to the bathroom to change.

As you exit, Vi has a hoard of blankets in her hands that you can only see her feet and the top of her head.

“Let's make a fort!” you hear her muffled cheers. “Ok, you get started, I’ll order pizza.” You smile.

You walk into the living room to tell her that the pizza should arrive soon. “You look cozy,” She says as you enter the family room. Violet runs and jumps into your arms, giving you a big hug. “So do you, baby Munson.” You giggle. After the fort was constructed and too many slices of pizza were consumed, you start painting one another nails. Violet Rose chose her favourite colour for you, purple, not surprisingly… and you chose pink for her. “I’m really happy you’re my dad's girlfriend.” She says while stuffing her face with a brownie. “I am, too.” you try not to blush. “He is a lot happier now you’re here.” She spews out nonchalantly. “What makes you say that?” You question. “He is always humming now; sometimes, I’ll catch him humming your songs. And he is playing the guitar more and writing love songs.” She shrugs her shoulders. “How would you know he is writing love songs?” You look at her quizzically. “I went into his music room and saw them on the table! One of them was titled Forever My Angel! Wanna see!” her eyes go wide god, they are just like her father's. “No, sweetheart, I wouldn’t want to see something he isn’t ready to show me.” You continue to paint her other hand even though you're screaming at yourself for not peaking. “Oh, and he lets me get away with not doing my chores as much, annnnnd he told me a secret. Oh no! I wasn’t supposed to tell you that! Oops!” she covered her mouth with both hands, making the nail brush paint across her fingers. “A secret, huh? Your Daddy talking about me when I’m not around?” Your heart swelled at the thought.

The lines of what was real and what was fake were becoming extremely blurred. Violet Rose nodded hesitantly. “It’s okay, don’t tell me, if it is supposed to be a secret, then it will stay a secret.” You wipe off the excess polish off of her fingers.

The rest of the night was filled with Disney princess movies, more junk food, and pre-teen romance quizzes; according to yours, you were destined to be with Harry Styles, and Violet was most compatible with Ross Lynch. Time flew by with Violet; after you cleaned up your mess, you snuggled back into the fort with her to put on the next movie. She chose the Disney movie Brave and said it was one of her favourites. You haven’t even noticed the time when you put on the movie; it was already quarter to midnight, and Eddie still wasn’t home.

Eddie walked into his house at 12:49 p.m. He had a whole speech prepared about how sorry he was, that they were on a roll and couldn’t stop recording until it was perfection. Eddie followed the sound of the TV calling your name a few times, but with no luck, you didn’t answer. Eddie rounded the corner to see the tented blankets and the couch cushions disassembled. He skimmed to himself and walked around to see if you guys were still in there. Sure enough, he sees both of you tucked up into one another, sleeping. Eddie’s heart swelled; he couldn’t picture a more perfect thing to come home to. It also didn’t escape him that you had on that old Corroded Coffin shirt, their first-ever tour merchandise. Eddie wanted to crawl in and be there with the two of you, but he thought better than to disrupt you. You were probably exhausted. You looked so peaceful he didn’t want to wake you, so he let you sleep.

You wake up the following day to the smell of pancakes and a massive crick in your neck. You open your eyes to a sheet suspended above your head. What the? The reality of where you are hits you. As your bones and joints start popping and cracking, you slowly shuffle out of the fort and make your way to the kitchen.

You could hear Eddie and Violet Rose singing Sweet Caroline. When you rounded the corridor, you saw Eddie had a wooden mixing spoon aimed at Violet like a microphone. You take in the sight and let out a small giggle.

“Good morning, Sunshine.” Eddie grinned at you.“Good morning,” you replied sheepishly. Was he annoyed you spent the night?

“Vi, go brush your teeth before you eat,” Eddie insisted.

He was plating the pancakes, and you glued over the counter it looked like an assortment of plain, chocolate chip, and blueberry.

“I’ll bet ten grand that kid didn’t brush them last night.” He winked at you over his shoulder. “Sorry,” You nervously bit your thumbnail and sat on the barstool. “I am only teasing you, Angel; I’m very grateful you watched over her last night.” He slid a pancake on your plate.

“I’m sorry for spending the night. I didn’t plan on it. You should have woken me up.” You fiddled with the hem of Eddie’s shirt you borrowed. “Nah, doll face, couldn’t do that to you; you were a literal Angel sleeping in my clothes…” Eddie bit his lip, eyeing you up and down.

“I’m sorry, out of all the things I forgot to pack for a slumber party, and Vi said it was okay, especially because I’m your “girlfriend,” You air quoted. “Mi casa es tu casa.” Eddie leaned back on the counter, spreading his arms wide and showing you his home.

“Well, um, thank you.” you tuck a piece of tussled hair behind your ear. “I should be the one thanking you, sweetheart. Truly owe you one, big time.” He sat down on the stool beside you. “It was my pleasure. Turns out being your fake girlfriend is more fun than I thought,” you said in a hushed tone, just in case Violet Rose had already come back down the stairs.

Eddie cleared his throat. He hated that this was all still supposed to be fake when he was catching feelings. He was one big fat simp for you. The guys don’t let him forget it. He talks about you when he is with them; he’s even writing songs about you. You’ve become his muse, saving grace, and Angel and he will eventually win you over. He had to, or else it would kill him if he didn’t…

“I, uh, shit… I couldn't have asked for a better person to be my fake girlfriend.” He shook his head. Way to play it cool, Munson.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

It’s been over 4 months since your deal with Eddie was signed, and nothing has died down. Both you and Eddie are being individually followed by the paparazzi when you’re out doing regular things, like when you’re running errands or when he is picking up Vi from school.

"Roger suggested we go on a shopping date together. Can you help me pick an outfit for Corroded Coffin's album release party this weekend?" You convince Eddie to go out shopping with you. Anyone who is anyone will be there. The guest list is star-studded, and it was a crucial night, not only to solidify your “relationship” with the public as you would be showing your support for your man but also to Eddie. He was very nervous about what everyone would think was the first new music they released in almost a decade. You being there for him meant everything.

Walking down the streets of Hollywood hand in hand, not missing the distinct clicks of the cameras, you enter the designer boutique. “So what’s the vibe for the party?” you question, skimming some dresses hanging on the wall. “Hmmm, I guess, metal…obviously. Dark, electric, sexy.” He hummed into your ear. An electric current coursed through your veins and down your spine. “Ok, not usually my go-to look, but I can make it work.” You whisper.

“You can make anything work.” Eddie slid a finger around your shoulder, moving your hair out of the way and down your back, stopping to rest it on your tailbone. “Hi, how can I help you today?” the salesperson greets the two of you. “We are here to find my girl an outfit for this weekend,” Eddie quickly replies. The way he says my girl shouldn’t get you as worked up as it does. You knew he was just putting it on. “Brilliant! what’s the occasion?” They ask with a smile. You rest your hand on Eddie’s chest, and you can feel his heart racing. “This sexy guy's album release party, have to look extra good to let him know how proud I am.” You look up to Eddie, staring down at you with a smile plastered to his face. After telling them more about the event, the floor worker shows you around and helps pick a few options. Eddie is sat by the changing rooms, champagne in hand, waiting for your little fashion show. You show him outfit after outfit, but none of them are working you like you wanted, until the last one.

You looked at yourself in the changing room mirror. You wore a Dolce and Gabbana sheer black lace corset that was practically lingerie and a tight black leather mini skirt that showed off all the right curves paired with thigh-high shiny black stiletto boots. This was 100% the winner, and you wanted it to surprise Eddie. “You coming out, Princess or do you need my help?” Eddie giggled into his champagne glass.

“Nope, you’re not seeing this until Saturday.” You stared to undress. “What, that’s not fair.” You could hear the pout in his voice. “I promise it will be Corroded Coffin approved.” You swing open the curtain, showing you are back in your back dressed in your signature pastel-coloured pallet. “I think I should at least get to see what I’m buying for you,” Eddie’s hand resting on the small of your back, leading you to the checkout counter. “You’re not paying for it?” You question him, confused. “Yes, I am.” He stops at the counter.

You place your clothes down and reach for your wallet, but Eddie is already handing over his black card before you can even unzip it. You open your mouth to protest, but Eddie is giving you that don’t be a brat look. “Thank you, but you didn’t have to do this.” You sigh. “Just want to take care of my girl.” He places a kiss on the top of your head.

There he goes again with those words that make your knees feel like jello. “The both of you are seriously so cute; thank you for shopping; enjoy the party!” The sales clerk waves you goodbye, and you do your best not to wobble with your Bambi knees.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The Party is in full swing by 9:30 p.m., and you’re running a bit late due to your hair and makeup stylists; you have texted Eddie an apology, and he tells you not to stress. You leave the car at 9:55 p.m. and into the event with no issues. The paparazzi cameras flash, and you smile and give your name to the doorman.

“Ah yes, here you are, our special guests plus one. Go right on in. I’m sure it won’t be hard to find them.” He gave you a wink as you passed by.

Inside, it looked like a vampire's nightclub. All black, everything with gold and red accents, the lights were dim and moody. You definitely dressed the part. You had on the outfit you bought at the boutique, matched with a matte smoked-out dark eyeshadow with a glossy red lip and a slicked-back updo. You clutched your bag, grabbed a glass of whatever the servers were handing out on the silver trays and scanned the room for your date. Like the doorman said, you spotted him instantly. He was on an elevated platform with the rest of the band, mingling with the other VIP guests.

You approached the roped-off area, and the big security guard asked for your name. “No need, she’s with me.” Eddie let him know and stepped aside. Eddie took your hand to help you up the stairs. His eyes scanned you, and he subconsciously licked his lips as he blatantly checked you out. “I’m not even mad that you’re late, you look… wow… delicious, shit-no-I mean, incredible.” Eddie scolds himself. “Thank you, handsome; you look delicious yourself.” You kiss his cheek and give a one-arm hug hello.

“You think I’m joking, Princess? I’m not.” He whispers in your ear, making the chills come back to your skin. “Come, I want you to meet the band.” He guides you to sit with the rest of them. “Angel, this is Gareth, Jeff and Felix” You give a small wave, awestruck at who you’re meeting. “It’s so nice to meet you guys. My parents are huge fans, I grew up with your music in the house practically 24/7.”

“Way to make us feel old Angel.” Eddie leaned in and stroked your back. “I really don’t mean to.” You pout, not thinking. Eddie wants to kiss the pout right off your face, but not now; you will have lots of time for that later. “It’s nice to meet you, Angel,” Felix smiles.

You thought of correcting him and giving him your actual name, but you liked this newfound name Eddie has given you; it’s cute and makes you think of him whenever you hear the word. “So, how did you and Eddie meet?” Jeff asks, sitting back on the black velvet booth bench. You didn’t know if they knew or not? Did he tell them this was fake? You stutter a bit before Eddie takes over. “We met at her meet and greet when I took Violet Rose to her concert.” Simple, and the truth. “Your concert? So you some kind of singer,” Gareth questioned.

You weren’t offended, you didn’t expect them to know who you were, hell, you didn’t expect someone like Eddie to know who you were either. “Hey man, don’t be a dick” Eddie tightened his grip around your waist, his fingers buried into the soft flesh that made your skin tingle.

“Baby, it’s fine! They aren’t really my demographic.” You giggle, finally taking a sip of what seemed to be champagne in the black glass flute. Eddie's eyes blow wide open at the pet name, not very subtle Munson.

You continue speaking after your first sip. “Yeah, I’m a singer; I just finished my first headliner tour.” You smile, proud of your accomplishment.

“Angel here has the most beautiful voice you’ve ever heard, give them a few bars .” Eddie was proud and not a fake proud. He wanted to show you off and stake his claim. This feeling was so new to him, in his younger days he would just be with another pretty face but none of them ever made him feel like you do. When you were near, he always wanted to be touching you, never wanting to let you out of his sight, not in a creepy overbearing way but in a way that he was proud to be seen with you.

“Never seen you this smitten before, Munson did not think I would see the day.” Felix chimed in. “I really thought you were catfishing this poor ol’man. Nice to see you’re actually real. I couldn’t believe it when he told us he was dating someone. It's been years since Sarafina!” Gareth laughs. You snap your head to look at Eddie beside you and back at Gareth. “Did you just say Sarafina?” Your eyes bug out of your skull. Sarafina as in superstar runway model, academy award-winning actress Sarafina?! “What the fuck, Gareth!” Eddie scolds along with the other two bandmates.

“Oops,” Gareth shrinks back into his chair. “No more drinks for you, man.” Jeff takes away his glass of whiskey. “Is that Violet Rose’s mom?!” It's all clicking for you, of course; that gorgeous little girl’s mother is the most beautiful woman on the planet; she looks just like her!

Eddie can see the wheels in your head spinning. “She doesn’t know who her mom is, so please don’t say anything to her.” Eddie pleads. “Of course.” You grab Eddie’s hand and give it a squeeze. “Thank you.” He gives a small smile. “You dated Sarafina?” you half-whisper. “It was a long time ago. We were young and so dumb. We were partying so much I hardly even remember that week. Vi wasn’t planned. Sara didn’t want a kid, so she asked me to keep it hush-hush so she could live normally after the baby was born. No one knows except our inner circle.” Eddie sighed. You were surprised he was divulging all of this to you. Was it to make you feel better? Or was it to protect Vi? Probably the latter.

“Your secret is safe with me; I would do anything to protect that little pumpkin.” You smiled. Eddie felt his heart swell at the way you spoke about his baby girl; she is the light of his whole life, and for you to protect her made Eddie’s admiration for you grow tenfold. “Looks like you got yourself a keeper, Eds.” Jeff smiles at you and his best friend. “Yeah, I picked a good one.” He kisses your cheek, and you can’t help but feel butterflies.

As the night went on, several more drinks were had, and more dancing was done, more so you than Eddie. He mostly sat back and watched you sway your hips in that tiny dress that hardly covered your ass and those heels that made your legs look long and mouthwatering. He had to keep conscious not to pop a boner in the club, his unforgiving leather pants would not aid him.

You can feel Eddie eye fucking you as you dance the night away. The music was blasting, the alcohol was flowing, not enough to where you were drunk but enough to have a nice buzz that your inhibitions were slowly lifting, giving you the confidence to pull Eddie up to dance with you. “No, no, no, Sweetheart, I am excellent right here.” Eddie shakes his head.

“Eddie pleeeeeeease, I have no one else to dance with” You gave Eddie that little pout he cannot seem to resist. He throws his head back in defiance and gives in you your request letting you pull him out of the padded booth and into your arms. You start off slow to ease him into it. He is awkward and stiff. You see why he didn’t want to get up. A small giggle leaves your lips, and Eddie groans. “This is why I don’t dance, I don’t know how” He pinches his brows looking down at you.

“Come on, baby, you’re musically inclined; just find the beat and move your hips with mine.” You spin around so your ass is to his crotch, grab both hands and pin them to your hips so he can follow along. Eddie is stiffer than a board. He needed to loosen up, but how can he when you’re pressed up to him so close like this? He was struggling not to pop a boner just watching you. He can feel your cheeks pressed up against his shaft. He can smell your strawberry shampoo mixed with your vanilla cinnamon perfume, tingling his senses. He is snapped out of his trance when he feels your ass is sweeping across his dick.

“Eddie, you need to follow my lead. Move your hips.” You look over your shoulder to see his jaw clenched, eyes black with lust. Your hips slow down, dipping from side to side until Eddie starts to follow along. You smile up at him when he finally gets a feel for it. You grid your ass into the partial hard-on you can feel him sporting. You bring an arm up to rest on the back of his neck, and you can feel a brave hand run up from your hip to your middle and back down again. Eddie is feeling more confident. He can’t believe he is in a club grinding with you at his age, but hell, this is Corroded Coffin’s night, and he will live it up.

The song went on, and Eddie's semi didn’t take long to become a full-fledged chubby. “I don’t think you understand your power over me, Angel.” You can feel Eddie’s head dipped lower, his hot breath masking your ear. The heat rose to your cheeks as he dug his hips into the flesh of your ass, really showing you what he means. Your head is spinning too much to think of a witty comeback, so you rest your head on his shoulder, pushing your hips further into Eddie's crotch.

“Do you realize what you’re doing to me, little one?” His breath is hot on your neck; you feel his lips graze over that sensitive spot, and you moan. Eddie doesn’t hear it over the loud base but knows he is riling you up. You quickly turn around to face him, surprising him with your sudden movement. You gently graze your hand up Eddie’s inner thigh to his stomach, grazing his hard cock.

“I think I have a big idea of what I’m doing to you.” It wasn’t hard to miss. You could feel how big he was through his pants. Your mouth watered at the thought of what he could do with it. Eddie pinned your hands against him.. “There you go again, teasing me.” He growled through gritted teeth. “My mouth can do a better job of teasing you than my words can.” You speak into the crook of his neck, testing the waters, and you give a small nibble, leaving a lipstick stain.

Before you knew what was happening, Eddie was pulling you back to the VIP section; tossed you your purse and pulled you out of the club doors. His grip is strong not enough to hurt but it is firm. Not another word had been spoken as you exit through the back. A black car pulls up and Eddie opens the door for you and guides you into the back seat. Dread starts to fill you, you’ve gone too far, and he wants you to leave. Why can’t you just stick to the stupid contract?

“Where, too?” the driver asks as you get in. Eddie gives the man your address, and your heart sinks; you feel the tears well in your eyes. You feel stupid for ever thinking this was more than a contractual obligation for him. Fuck, you think back about earlier in the night and remember that he had arguably the most beautiful woman on the planet before you, so why would he ever settle for you? The car door shuts like it is the final nail in the coffin. Ironic, isn’t it?

You’re so distracted, eyes blurry from fighting back tears, that you don’t see Eddie run around the other side of the car and let himself in. Your trance is broken when you hear a second door close, and you snap your head up. “What are you doing?” You try and calm your voice, not to let him see your tremble. His hands are clenched in a fist. “Taking you home.” Your shoulders sank, and not another word was said for the rest of the way home.

You get out of the car before Eddie can run around the side to open it for you; when you turn, he rolls his eyes, and your heart sinks even lower than you thought possible.

The walk from the parking lot to the elevator to your front door was dead silent. Eddie shifted uncomfortably from side to side, fist still balled up as you rode up to the 16th floor. You unlock your door, step in, and whisper a quick thank you and goodnight before Eddie stops you. “What are you doing?” He asks.

“I-well-umm-” “Don’t think you’re getting off that easy, sweetheart,” He whispers, tucking a piece of fallen hair behind your ear. It makes a shiver run down your spine. He was so close, close enough to kiss. “I’m sorry I’ve taken things too far. I overstepped your boundaries. I understand we can stop pretending now. There aren’t any more cameras.” You hold back a sniffle. “Does this feel like I’m pretending?” He glides your hand down his middle over his pants to the hard bulge between his legs; a soft gasp leaves your throat when Eddie waists no time melting his lips onto yours. He continues to kiss you as he walks you back into your apartment. He kicks the door shut and fiddles with the lock behind his back until he hears a click, not breaking contact with your lips the entire time. You melted into his touch; the taste of his lips was addicting, and you never wanted to stop kissing this man. “Eddie, what is happening?” You ask as he breaks the contact and starts to kiss down your neck, hitting that spot that made your knees buckle so hard he has to catch you. “What is happening, little one, is that you’re going to take me to your bedroom, and I will show you how you’ve been making me feel for the last five months. What will happen is that I will have my way with you, understood?” Your heart flutters. You dumbly nod your head. The moment you’ve been hoping for is finally coming to fruition.

“Now go into the room and get ready for me, I’ll be there in just a minute.” You turn and walk into your room and throw all of your clothes left out from getting ready into your closet not caring they’re tossed haphazardly, that will be a tomorrow problem. You check yourself out in your floor-length mirror and fix your hair and lift up your boobs in to corset before Eddie walks back in. You turn and think of where to go? Stay standing in the room? No, that’s awkward. Should you sit on the bed? Do you lay down? Kneel? Yes, kneel. You want to show him how good you are at listening to him.

You get down on the floor at the foot of your bed facing the door, and Eddie walks in a few seconds later, looking like the definition of sex. You can smell his intoxicating cologne as he gets closer. He’s pulled back his hair into a low bun at the nape of his neck. His button-up shirt is now unbuttoned and untucked from his tight black slacks. Your mouth waters at the signs of Eddie’s skin being exposed to you. His “dad bod,” which wasn’t really a “dad bod,” was still quite fit, not as fit was when he was in his 20s, but it was doing it for you. You notice how his chest and shoulders were filled out when he stepped closer to you, letting the shirt fall to the floor behind him. “Ohhh oh oh- Look at you, such a good girl for me,” he praised as he took a few steps closer to you. You subconsciously wiggled your hips when you heard him continue to speak. “You want to be a good girl for me, don't you?” The back of Eddie’s hand gently stroked your cheek as he looked down at you. You could see the hunger in his eyes as you looked up at him. He wants this just as much as you do, maybe even more. “Answer me, Angel.” he tilted your chin up towards him. “Yes,” you answer. “Yes, what?” His tone was firm, and it made your pussy tingle. “Yes…Sir?” You tested the waters.

“Pretty and smart.” he bends down and brings your face up to meet him halfway to kiss you; you can’t help but moan into his mouth. “Tell me you want this as much as I do; I need to know.” His chest heaved up and down with anticipation. “I’ve never wanted anyone as much as I want you in the moment,” you admit. He lets go of your face, and you sink back to your kneeling position. “Let’s see if you were all talk earlier, hmm? I’m going to put that mouth to good use.” He unbuttons and unzips his pants tantalizingly slow. You raise to your knees and pull his pants out of the way, and he lets you this time.

“You want to be my good girl, don't you?” He stroked your cheek and bit your lip. “Yes, that’s all I want.” You lean into his touch.

“Then show me, Angel” Eddie takes his throbbing cock out of his briefs, and your eyes go wide at the sight of him. What first caught your attention was that he is pierced. The silver ball sticking out of the tip was the first thing that caught your eye, not the fact that he was big, long, thick and veiny. The red tip leaking pre cum, just begging for attention. Intimidating was one way to put it. You hadn’t been with anyone in a few years. A hesitant hand gently grips his thick shaft; your hand looks tiny compared to his size, “Don’t be scared, little one. I won’t hurt you.” He looks down at you, stroking your cheek.

You tentatively kiss the tip with your glossy, red lips. Your lips catch the silver ball, and you twirl it around on your tongue. Eddie, let’s put a moan of pleasure, and it entices you to keep going. You swirl your tongue over the tip even more, taking in the metallic, briny, salty taste that was wholly Eddie. You bob your head lower to take in more of him, enjoying the weight of him on your tongue. You can feel the vein under his shaft brush against your wet lip as you slowly drag your head back. Eddie places a hand on the back of your head, and you look up at him. His eyes were glazed over with lust. Eddie could not believe he was here with you right now. “Fucking hell, Princess, you’re taking me so well.” Eddie praised. Your siren eyes looked up at him as your plump red lips swallowed him even further.

How he looks down at you makes you want to do so well for him, to be his good girl. You take him as far as your throat will let you. You breathe through it, using your hand to grip the rest of the exposed shaft. Your hand and head moved in tandem; it was messy and hot. Your smudged lipstick rubbed off on him, only making the tip look more angry.

“I need you. Bed. Now.” Eddie's strong arms lift you up by your armpits, and he tosses you onto the bed. You giggle when you land with a soft thump on your hands and knees. A strong hand grazes down your back, unzipping the designer corset top. You shimmy the straps down and top it haphazardly into the room. Eddie’s hand traces down your back to the curve of your ass. A small slap echos the quiet room, your back arches into his hand, and you let out a mmmpf. Eddie smirks as he kicks off his pants so he’s fully naked. You turn over, propping yourself on your elbows as your eyes rake him in in his entirety. His thick muscles made you feel tiny in his presence but also made you feel protected and safe with him here in front of you. You were drinking in his tattoos covering his chest and arms; he has a large snake running down his rib cage around his abs, ending just below his happy trail, which you now see for the first time.

“Take a picture, sweet thing. It'll last longer.” He smirked before crawling over you, and you rolled your eyes in return. He placed both hands beside your head as he leaned in to kiss your mouth, then moved to kiss down your neck, hitting that same spot again, making you sigh with pleasure. “Let me hear you, sweetheart,” he coos into your ear. That oh-so-familiar feeling of your throbbing in your core sends you into a frenzy. You moan out his name as he slithers down your chest.

“Prettiest set of tits I’ve ever seen,” he mumbles into the swell of your breast. You arch your back into Eddie’s mouth as his hot tongue flicks your nipple. Eddie loves that you’re so reactive to him. He latched onto your second nipple, swirling his tongue around until the little peak formed. He continued kissing down your stomach, kissing every inch until he found the hem of your skirt. “You’ve been teasing me with this all night, Angel.” He tucks his thick-ringed fingers around your skirt's waistband and rips it down your legs, taking your panties with it. You let out a small yelp at the speed at which you’re now naked.

He finally reaches where you’ve been neglected the most. He kisses your mound softly before he sits back on his heels to take you all in. “I knew you would have such a pretty little pussy. Open up for me, baby. Let me see.” His eyes felt like they were burning into your soul. You couldn’t look away as you slowly obeyed his request. You slid your knees apart, opening up for Eddie. It is like he has you in a trace; you want to do everything and anything he asks of you.

“Oh Angel, Look how beautiful you look, all spread out and ready for me. You’re such a good girl getting so wet just for me. You're all mine, aren't you?” Eddie kissed down your inner thigh, agonizingly slow until he broke contact just as he reached your dripping core. “Don’t make me ask you again, Princess. You won’t like what happens if I have to ask you again.” He warns. You rush out your answer to his question.

“Yes, Edd-” He gives you a look of warning. “Yes, Sir-” you correct yourself. “-it’s only for you OH ooooh,” Eddie latches his mouth onto your cunt without hesitation. He is a man starved, starved for 6 years, but who’s counting? It’s hard to date, never mind sleep with people as a single Dad with a younger child.

“That’s it, baby, let me hear you scream my name.” Eddie slips a thick finger into your dripping hole. “OH! Eddie! Baby, yes, just like that!” He grazes your velvety walls in a spot you didn’t know existed until this moment. Eddie continuously pumps his fingers in and out, making your eyes roll back into your head. You feel Eddie moan into your pussy. The vibrations from his mouth on your clit send you over the edge, your walls clench around his fingers, and the rush in your pussy consumes your body as all your muscles tense.

“That's it, little one, that's it, just let go, let yourself feel good.” You felt so taken care of; this is all new for you. Your past partners never looked after you like Eddie is doing. They always chased after their own orgasms, leaving you feeling used. Overwhelmed by the feeling of being taken care of, a tear escapes your lashes, and you quickly wipe it away, embarrassed that you’re crying during sex with someone for the first time. Eddie slithers his way back up to kiss you. “Don’t worry, baby, I got you,” He stroked your cheek, leaning in and giving you a head-spinning kiss. “I don’t even know why I’m crying. I liked it, I liked it a lot,” You choke back.

“You want to stop?” He cocks his head, his big brown eyes looking down at you with concern. You shake your head no. God no. “I need you to say it, baby.” He strokes a piece of hair behind your ear. “I need you, Eddie, I’ve waited so long.” You grind your hips into Eddie, and his head falls back with a groan. “You have a condom?” He asks.

You sit up and dig through your nightstand. You swore there were a few left in there somewhere. “I have an IUD,” you mention while rifling through the messy drawer. The thought of fucking you raw makes Eddie’s head spin. The feel of your velvety walls clenching down on him almost made him say fuck it. Then, reality slams on the brakes hard because the last time he did that, he ended up a single dad with no idea how to raise a kid.

“Ah ha!” your voice snaps him back from his thoughts, and he sees you wave the wrapped condom by your head. He snatches it from your hand and puts it on himself. “I’m going to make you feel so good,” He growls in your ear. “Please, Sir, I need it, I need you.” You beg as he runs his tip through your folds; the ridged metal of his cockring makes your body jerk into him. “You’re being such a good girl for me, using your words.” Eddie slowly breaks through your barrier and slides the tip into your tight hole. The burn made you tense; it had been so long, and he was much bigger than you were used to. He was halfway in, and you felt full already. Your grip on his biceps was so tight that your nails created half-moon indents in his skin. “I need you to relax, Angel. I’ll take care of you” You tried to loosen your vice grip on Eddie’s cock.

“I’m so proud of you for taking me so well, such a good girl,” Eddie spoke when he finally bottomed out. He felt you clench down on him when he spoke. He started to move his hips slowly, building up speed with each thrust, bottoming out each time.

“You like it when I talk to you, Angel? I can feel it.” You nod your head, so consumed by the feeling of Eddie taking over your whole body that you can’t speak. “Oh, what’s this? My baby can’t talk anymore? I haven’t even gotten started, and you’re already been fucked dumb, huh?” He chides.

“Please- I- keep going.” The speed at which Eddie was thrusting into you was astronomical. The hollow sound of skin slapping skin filled the emptiness of your quiet apartment. Hands latching on to one another, Eddie pins your arms above your head, lips bruising, teeth clashing, tongues at war. Legs hiked, skin hot and slick with sweat. “Your fucking cunt was made for me, fuck, you’re perfect,” Eddie praised.

There was no one else that existed at this point in time, it was you and Eddie together as one. The mind-numbing pleasure the two of you gave each other devoured your minds. He was pussy drunk, consumed by lust, want, and need. Eddie was close to his breaking point, but he had to get you there first. “You take my cock so well, Angel. Give me one more, just for me; you're doing such a good job.” Eddie praised, and once again, he could feel you clamp down on his cock. “More, please I can’t”

“Yes, you can.” Eddie flips you onto your hands and knees and thrusts back into you, once again hitting that spot you didn’t know existed. “Oh. fuck. Me. yes!” You cry out with each thrust. You could feel the build with each thrust. Eddie's hands tightly gripped your ass, bringing it down on his cock, using you to fuck him as he chased his pleaser along with yours. “Give it to me, baby I know you can tell me what you need,” Eddie gritted out.

“Touch me!” You cry. Eddie wraps a hand around your tummy and down to your clit. The connection of his rough, calloused fingers lit the string of white-hot pleasure that fuelled your body. “I can’t, it’s too much,” you cry. Your hands were gripping the bed sheets so hard your knuckles were hurting. The vibrations pulsed through you, and you had to scream into the pillow to muffle the sounds. Eddie grips your hair into his fist to pull your head back. “Don’t shy away from me now. Let me hear you.” His thrust became deeper; you didn’t even think it was possible.

“Please, please, please!” You could feel the sensation building and building, and it wasn’t going away. Eddie let go of your hair, and your head fell into the mattress. Eddie's fingers dug into your left hip so hard you’re sure there will be bruises where his fingers are. His right hand never left your clit.

“DON’T STOP PLEASE,” you beg him. He didn’t slow down. He kept pounding into you. The feeling was building more and more. It was so good that you couldn’t help it. “Come on baby, I can feel it; you’re getting tighter, cum for me.” His words broke your dam, a silent scream was caught in your throat. Your body trembled beneath him. Spasming under him as he road out your orgasm, not stopping. The feeling was so intense. You’ve never cum this hard before. It was becoming so intense that you were starting to become overstimulated. You reach back for Eddie to grab onto something, anything. You find his wrist and beg him to stop. It was too good, “please, I can’t,” you gasped. “oh, little baby, can’t take anymore. You were begging for more, and I’m giving you more.” he kept pounding into you until your third orgasm built up again. You cried out from the pleasure again as tears streamed down your face. The feeling he was giving you was so intense, so overwhelming. He finally released his fingers from your clit, and noticed it was so hot to the touch. You felt Eddie’s thrusts become more and more uneven as he shot his load into the condom.

After a few minutes of silent recovery, only the sounds of both your heavy panting and slight sniffles of you trying your best to pull yourself together, Eddie was the one who broke the silence. “Holy shit, I hope that wasn’t too much, I’m sorry if it was. I get carried away. That side of me has been locked away for so long that I- are you crying?! No baby, please. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.” Eddie was frantic. You cut him off mid-apology with a kiss to let him know they were good tears.

“Eddie stop I’m okay, I’m not hurt, I’m not upset, I just- fuck this is so embarrassing.” You hurried your face into his hard chest. “Tell me, Angel, it’s only me.” He stroked the back of your head. You let out a deep sigh and let out your confession. “No one has ever taken care of me like you did, and I don’t know what came over me. I never felt so cared for, and it was really nice. I don’t know.” Your mind was racing; this wasn’t supposed to be like this. This wasn’t supposed to be real, but it sure as hell felt real. “I’ll always be here to take care of you. That’s my job.” He kissed the top of your head. “You’re just saying that under contractual obligation.” You half joke, breaking your own heart. “Don’t say that.” Eddie pulled out from under him to look you in the eyes. “This has nothing to do with that piece of paper we signed.” He pointed between the two of you.

Your heart fluttered with anticipation. “What do you mean?” you wiped away the tear stains from your eyes. “My feelings for you were never fake, Angel.” He sighs. “What?” You sit up to get a better look at him. “Contract be damned, I care for you. I want to be with you for real.” He took your hand. “When did your feelings for me become real?” You asked. “The night we first met.” He moved in closer, noses touching. “I don’t think I can fake being in a relationship with you anymore…” Eddie's heart sank into his stomach. He knew this was taking it too far. “Somewhere along the way, my fake feelings became real for you. I want to be with you for real,” you finish.

Eddie can’t believe the words coming out of your mouth, the relief he feels, the way his heart dropped into his stomach at the thought of losing you. The thought of losing him was at the back of your mind, too; only a few more months and the contract would be up. You had to focus on your career; that was the whole point, but he made you feel like no one had ever been able to. You feel Eddie shift, and it breaks you out of your spiral.

“I’m crazy for you” Kissing you quickly before getting up, he let you know he was going to get a wet cloth to help clean the both of you up. When he padded back into the room, he not only had the towel but also brought your makeup wipes and your moisturizer from the bathroom, your heart fluttered that he remembered your conversation about how you told him to never sleep with makeup on, and no matter how drunk you’d get you always took your makeup off before bed.

“Thank you, Eddie, for everything,” you sighed. “Of course, Angel. I’ll do anything and everything for you.” he nuzzled his head into your neck, and you giggled softly as the scruff of his beard tickled you. You yawned, “Get some sleep, Baby.” he stroked your hair, and you fell asleep within seconds.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

“Things seem to be heating up between music royalty’s hottest new couple”

*scroll*

“Corroded Coffin’s front man-”

*scroll*

Videos of you and Eddie dancing not so PG were swarming the internet, TikTok, Instagram, and Twitter. You couldn’t escape it. In retrospect, the plan was working. However, all the attention the two of you have been receiving can’t all be positive. You had Facebook moms coming after you saying you were a slut, and a bad influence on your younger audience; you had to be a role model and not slut yourself out like some whore.

You come across more headlines: Things look more than cozy for Corroded Coffin’s notorious Eddie Munson and the up-and-coming Princess of Pop!

You huff, and a large hand emerges from under the tangled sheets and grabs your phone. “Hey!” You huff. “It’s too early for that bullshit,” he grumbles, pulling you closer.

Waking up next to Eddie made you feel safe like nothing could no longer hurt you. Neither the words nor the Karen’s of the internet could dull the light growing between you and Eddie. “Good morning to you, too,” you mumble into the crook of his neck. You left soft kisses that turned into more heated kisses on his thick neck. He let you keep going, sucking harder. You left a purple bruise in your wake. You pulled away with a not-so-convincing “oops.”

“You trying to mark me, baby, make sure everyone knows I’m taken?” Eddie rolls you on your back, and you sink into the mountain of pillows and blankets that dawn your king-size bed. You hum in agreement while nodding, “Can’t have anyone else hitting on my man.” You strain your neck up to kiss him; morning breath be damned, you need to feel his mouth on you once more. Eddie’s heart fluttered at your words. He finally had you, truly had you, and you weren’t going anywhere, contract be damned. “You’re insatiable” Eddie pulled away, cock already standing proudly; you can feel it dig into your thigh.

“I’d say you are the insatiable one, Sir” You ground your lower half up into him to create some more friction. “Ohhh you have no idea what you’ve just done little one. Eddie used his skilled hands to spread around your arousal, finding your clit in seconds. You arched into his touch

“Fuck you- you’re so good at this.” You sucked in a breathy moan. Eddie laughed to himself “Is that right baby? Is the next thing you’re going to post, get you a man who can finger pussy as good as he plays guitar” he slips his thick fingers in and curled them up hitting that spot. “EDDIE!” You half scolded him, half moaned from the feeling.

“That’s it, say my name, let the whole building know who’s fucking you” his hands were pumping in and of you at such a speed, your pussy clenched before you even knew what was happening. Eddie pulled out completely.

“Baby, no, please I was-” “Did I say you could cum” Eddie interrupted you. “No, Sir,” you shake your head. “You cum when I tell you to, got it?” “Yes, Sir,” you pout. “Don’t be a brat, wipe that pout from your face” This side of Eddie was making your pussy ache. He was so sexy, so dominant, you wanted him to take control. You needed him to take control,

“Sorry, Sir,” you apologized. “That’s better.” Eddie reached over to the bedside drawer, pulling out the last condom you had stored away. “remind me, I need to be getting about 30 more boxes of these,” he teased. Your eyes go wide at his suggestion. “I don’t think I can even walk now after last night. You’re going to have to carry me everywhere,” you laugh. “That’s the plan, Angel.” He spoke as he sunk back into you.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

A month into being Eddie Munson's real girlfriend, Corroded Coffin’s North American tour was starting. They have been slaving away with promotional photoshoots, rehearsals, and pushing their newest album. The feedback from their fans had been really positive; it still sounded like them but ultimately a bit more modern. They were accumulating younger fans as well. Their demographic had grown with this new release; more and more people were talking about them on social media, and videos of old shows had popped up on your feed. You were going down the rabbit hole; you couldn’t peel your eyes off all the videos of your boyfriend while on stage. The way he commanded the crowd, the way women would sneak past security and grab onto him… and he liked it. He would play into it, kissing them with full tongue, and jealousy was brewing within you, but you had to remember you were a child when all of the concert footage was taken.

Sure it happened all those years ago… but what about now? What would happen when he leaves you for the tour for the next 3 months? Long distance has not been your thing; paired with your trust issues in men, your mental state was frantic. Your past relationships were not ones to brag about.

Your Ex Charlie chipped away at your self-esteem; he had broken down your self-worth, gaslit the fuck out of you to the point that you believed in your heart of hearts that you would never be good enough to make it. You used to stay in bed for days when it was awful. The abuse you had gone through was something that you never spoke about in detail to anyone. The embarrassment you felt looking back at how much he was in control of you made you sick to your stomach.

Your internal monologue was running rampant. You had to turn it off before it was too late. You were almost in tears continuing to watch these videos of women throwing themselves at Eddie. You couldn't look away no matter how hard you tried. The way Eddie would entertain them, you dove in even further, googling old articles, old TMZ footage of him out with so many girls. There seemed to be a different one every month. The articles would explain how he was a womanizer and a playboy. He partied too much; his coke addiction was also the main topic of these articles. One he never disclosed to you.

This was bad; you were not okay. The first show is tonight. It’s kicking off in New York at MSG. You weren’t going to be there. You couldn’t handle the unknown of what he would do. Will he go back to his old ways when he is out touring again? It is so easy to fall back into old habits. Of course, women will still be throwing themselves at him, and nothing has been confirmed about your relationship in the media. He is a signalman, according to anyone who is concerned. Sure, you would be spotted together numerous times, but the paps never saw you kissing. The social media posts helped initially, but it’s been so long since you’ve posted anything, and the most the public had gotten were the videos of the two of you dancing. They probably thought you were just his little fuck-toy.

As you kept spiralling in deeper, you found that people were starting to speculate it was all a setup. You couldn’t stop the tears from welling in your eyes. The deeper you dug, the more you found. Newer articles would pop up throughout the weeks, and pictures of Eddie being spotted with a woman you did not recognize only sent you further into your spiral. You avoided his calls. You were in your head so much that you could no longer decipher reality from your own delusions about who she was and what they were doing.

Communication with Eddie over the past few weeks has been rough. He wasn't good with his phone as it is, and it wasn't aiding your intrusive demons scratching at your mind about the what-ifs?

Eddie could tell something wasn't right, that you had become distant from him. He just didn't have the time and energy. His age was catching up to him; performing and being on the road for weeks was not kind to Eddie. From all the Hotels to going back on the tour buses and staying up late, it was catching up to him. Even the band's personal trainer was having a hard time with Eddie. His health and the band members' health was her top priority. She was on top of everything they did. She was having them eat better and work out more to keep up the demanding schedule, but it was still gruelling to keep up with.

After each show, the adrenaline from the crowd died off as soon as Eddie the showers. In his heyday, he would stay up until five o'clock in the morning after some shows because he was so hyped by the crowd, or maybe that was the drugs? Whatever it was it was no longer the same for Eddie now. Exhaustion took over his body. He would sleep late, perform late and then repeat it all the next day. He missed you and Violet Rose more than anything. Life on the road can be lonely, and he would call VR every night before going on stage, no matter where he was.

Tonight was no different; they were in Montreal, Canada, about to head out when he FaceTime’d her and was really surprised to see you in the background cooking.

"Hi, Cupcake." You hear his hard voice rasp through the phone speaker. You freeze at the sound of his voice. You haven’t told him you've been coming over here every day to be with Vi. "Hi, Angel” You hear your name in a way that soothes you. You haven't had time to speak to him on the phone in a few days.

Your anxiety was consuming you. Not knowing what could be happening, you avoided speaking to him, afraid of a confession of him hooking up with a groupie or that woman you didn’t know. You were obsessed; you would scour all social media fields to find anything incriminating about him, but nothing ever came to light because nothing was happening. Eddie was swatting women and men off of him left and right; he wasn't even interested in them because they weren't you. He hasn't even had a chance to admit his feelings about missing you, but tonight, he would ensure it. He has been putting it off for too long; he needed you; he needed to speak with you. No more of this texting bullshit because that wasn't real to him.

"I'm going to call you after the show tonight, Angel." You hear him address you again. "Okay, Eds." The butterflies erupted in your stomach; you missed him so much it was starting to physically hurt, yet you were so scared of the unknown.

Unbeknownst to Eddie, you were spending the night at his house because Vi had begged you for another sleepover, and you wanted an excuse to sleep in Eddie's bed. You gave her nanny the night off when you arrived at the Munsons household. Around 10:00 p.m, you put Violet Rose to bed and ensured she brushed her teeth this time. There was a three-hour time difference between California and Montreal.

You were already tucked into his bed by 10:45 p.m. when Eddie called you your time. "Hi handsome," you answer the face time, it looks like he is lying in a hotel bed. "Hi, Sweetheart, it's so good to hear your voice." He sighed. Your worries melt the second you hear his voice. It's raspier than the hours previous; the shows were taking a toll on his vocal cords. "You should be on a vocal rest," you joke, "It's that bad, huh? You really don't want me talking to you?" He laughs. “I miss you,” it just slips out, you can’t keep the feeling down any longer, even with all of the doubts swimming in your mind because you knew in your heart that he wasn't like your ex in any capacity. You knew you were acting unhinged, you didn't want to scare him away. “I fucking miss you so much, Angel, it hurts to breathe. To know that you’re not in the crowd, that you won’t be waiting for me when I get off stage. I think I’m losing my mind.” He rubs his large hand down his face in frustration.

“I wish I was with you” You shuffle your bare arms out from under the covers “Are you in my bed?” A shit-eating grin forms on his face. “Maybe… Vi wanted to have another sleepover, who am I to deny that sweetheart?” you chide as wiggle your arms out of the covers.

“You’re killing me here, baby” he replied. “I might be naked too” It has been so long since you and Eddie last had sex. You were like rabbits when you were alone together. You had so much time to make up for, your sex life was not one to be denied.

An animalistic groan fell out of Eddie’s mouth. He was already shimming out of his pyjama pants before you could reply. “I can’t wait to have my way with you Little One.” Eddie props the phone on his nightstand and sits up to position himself in front of the phone. He is sitting there fully naked for you, his cock becoming stiffer by the second as he roughly tugs on it will one hand. “You’re so mean, teasing me like this. I want you in my mouth so bad.” You pout for him. “Fuck what a perfect pout you have, baby girl.” Eddie’s hand has slowed down, but it hasn’t stopped. His thick fingers were teasing himself in front of you and you.

“Come on baby, don’t hide from me, be a good girl. Show me.” You slowly lift the dark grey comforter off your chest, exposing yourself fully to Eddie. Your nipples were already peaked, and your pussy was already getting wet watching Eddie touch himself for you. “That’s my girl, touch yourself for me. Let me see.” You move your phone down lower so he can see you spread open for him.

You slowly work yourself up, lightly touching your clit; you dip your index and middle finger between your lips to gather up the slick to massage your precious bud. “You are already so wet for me, baby. I bet you could easily slip in your fingers for me.” Eddie’s grip never faltered. You could hear the smacking of wet skin coming from his end. “Fuck I wish you were here with me. It’s not the same. My fingers aren’t big enough.” you moan in frustration. “What are you saying, baby? No one can fuck you as good as I can? Not even yourself?” He smirks.

“Yes,” you whine out. “I’ll walk you through it. You want me to help you?” He asks. “Yes, Sir” You bite your lip. “You’re going to need both of your hands, so lean the phone on the nightstand baby.” You mimic his setup and sit on the edge of the bedside table for him. “Sucha a good girl. Now spread your legs for me, let me see all of you.” He pants. A shiver runs through you, straight to your clit when he speaks to you like this.

“First you’re going to tease yourself, I know you’re very good at that” He scoffs. “Asshole” you mumble under your breath “I know you’re not back talking me Princess.” His voice is clear and firm. “No Sir” you were being cheeky, and only because he wasn’t there to punish you. “Don’t smart mouth me” he warns. “No sir, I would never,” You say sarcastically, running your hands all over your body, showing Eddie exactly what he has been missing out on. “Fuck Angel, I thought I was supposed too in control.” He breaks for a moment.

“That’s what I want you to think, but the thing is baby… the woman is always in control” You slid one finger into your tight hole for Eddie. “Tell me, Sir, am I doing the right?” you pump your finger in and out a few times before adding a second. “Fu-uuck baby, a very good job.” Eddie gripped his cock with both hands now pumping himself, he needed to slow down if he wanted to last, but it just felt so good and you were being so so dirty for him. “You like it when I play with myself for you?” you ask moving your other hand so you could rub your clit, grinding your hips into nothing as you do so.

It dosn't take much, as a rush of pleasure rips through your body. You let a moan slip out, you were conscience that Violet Rose was just sleeping down the hall. “Yes pretty girl, let me hear those pretty sounds” He grits through his teeth. You can see one hand has moved down to play with his balls to mimic how you sucked on them. “Baby please, I want you so bad, ahhhh Eddie-fuck I-I-Eddie!” a wave of pleasure washed over your whole being, you’re coming whether Eddie allowed it or not. You collapse on your back as your body tense, forgetting for a second that you are still on the phone with Eddie.

“No, no, no baby girl come back, I need to see that pretty face, you have such a pretty face, let me see you please, I’m so close, come to me Angel” Your fog lifts slowly at the sound of Eddie’s voice begging you, calling out your name. You slowly sit back up to see and hear Eddie cuming in his hands. “Shit shit yes, take it, you’re such a good girl for me Angel” His chest heaves as he slowly comes down from his high. It is silent for a moment, to collect yourselves, before Eddie broke it.

“Why didn’t we do that sooner? The only thing I’ve been working within that picture you sent me of you in that fucking red dress” Eddie admitted. “You know porn exists…for free” You giggle. “Come on, baby! Give me a break here I’m trying to be romantic.” he wines. “There was nothing romantic about what came out of that filthy mouth of yours, rockstar” You laugh.

“Shut up” he laughs. “Maybe I can send you some more stuff to work with, and keep you tied over for the next few months.” The realization hits Eddie that he won’t be seeing you for a long time. Relationships were so hard to do while on tour but he will do everything in his power to keep you. He creates a self-reminder to send you flowers in the morning, he has been neglecting you, he knows. He needs to do better no matter how tired he is.

“Yea Angel that would be nice” He sighs. “I miss you,” you say as you snuggle back into his cozy bed. “I miss you more, I’m sorry I’ve been distant, that’s not fair to you.” He lays back down on the bed.

Those were the exact words you needed to hear from Eddie to put your mind to rest. “Yeah, I’ve been kinda driving myself insane if we are being honest.” You admit to him. “What do you mean Angel?” He questions. “Well I may have taken a deep dive into old footage of what Corroded Coffin used to get up to when you guys were on tour back in the day, and I saw some paparazzi pictures of you with that girl and I…” You avoid Edd’s eyes as you trail off.

“Oh baby, is that why you have been off? You don’t have to worry about that, I am not that guy anymore. I’ve grown up a lot since then, I don’t do drugs, I don’t party, I definitely don’t do random hookups because I’m a dad now, and I lo-like you more than you know.” he sighed.

“I’m sorry Eddie I didn’t mean to accuse you do anything, I get into my own head sometimes and my ex use to gaslight the fuck out of me to the point where I knew he was cheating but made me feel like I was going crazy. Having a healthy relationship is a new thing for me but I am working on myself, I promise.”

“I’ll do everything in my power to keep you Angel”

“Who was the girl Eddie?” you question.

“What girl?”

“She was tall, dark skin, beautiful, long curly hair, you were walking outside with her, she had a blue workout set on you were opening a door for her…”

“OH, that’s just Terra” He confirms

“Who’s Terra?” you question.

“She’s our personal trainer, we were walking into a gym with the guys. Honestly baby you have nothing to worry about, I would never cheat on you and to be honest she can be scary.”

His words were helping you settle down about everything.

“I believe you Eddie, Sweet dreams”

“Sweet dreams Angel”

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

Corroded Coffin was in Las Vegas tonight on one of their last stops for the tour scheduled to wrap up this week. It had been a month since you admitted to Eddie your doubts, and things have been much better since that phone call. So you devised a plan to surprise Eddie by attending tonight's show. You arranged it with the rest of the band, and they were just as stoked about the surprise as much as you were!

You’d flown out mid-afternoon, and the tour manager had let you into Eddie’s hotel room to put away your stuff and get ready. His manager assured you he would be at the venue for the rest of the day until the show. You decided to show your support by wearing custom red panties with Corroded Coffin printed on the front. You slipped on the same leather skirt from the album release party and paired it with your most recent purchase of Corroded Coffin merch. The T-shirt was a little oversized, so you cropped it yourself.

After you were done getting ready, you got a ride to the venue around 6:30 p.m. so you would arrive during soundcheck. You had been escorted by the security team to the green room to wait for the band to finish. You texted your little group chat that excluded Eddie to let them know you were in place.

About fifteen minutes later, you heard footsteps approaching the door, and the butterflies in your stomach came back to life. The anticipation building and building, 3 months of not being together physically, was tough, but you both managed to make it work. Especially when Eddie started getting really into sexting. He loved sending you before pictures of his stiff cock and after pictures of himself when he finished. He loved how riled up he got you over just his words and the little videos you would send for his eyes only. He begged you to send him one of you getting off; that was his favourite to hold him over.

You could hear the starting act over the intercom speakers in the room as the latch of the doorknob clicked and the muffled voices became more precise.

“I think tonight’s crowd will be really rowdy. I just have this feeling,” Eddie says to the guys while looking over his shoulder and walking into the green room.

“Well, at least one person in the crowd will be.” You speak, and Eddie’s head whips forward. There you are standing before him, looking like his perfect little groupie. (in the best way possible)

“Angel?” He stopped in his tracks. He was in shock.

“Hi baby” you speed walk toward him, closing the gap.

Your bodies collide as you give him the biggest hug you can. Your arms wrapped around his neck, and he finally snapped out of it.

“Holy shit” he screamed with joy spinning you around

“Surprise,” you gave him a small peck.

“What are you doing here?” He puts you down.

“I came to surprise my man.” You look up at him, not wanting to let go.

“Why are you holding out on me? Gimme some sugar.” He leans in to kiss you, and you melt into him.

“Hi, Angel!” You hear Jeff greet you.

“Hey guys! Thanks for all your help. I brought you some donuts as a thank you.” You pull away from Eddie, giggling, pointing to the table.

“Fuck yea!” Felix cheered.

“Don’t tell Terra she doesn’t allow us to have sugar,” Gareth whispers.

“You guys knew?” Eddie asks

“Of course we knew; how else could she get in here?” Jeff laughs

“Enough chitchat, wanna show me your dressing room?” you whisper into his ear.

Eddie has never moved so quickly in his life. Tangled fingers lead you down the hallways into the small room designated for him and him alone. The door slam startled you as he kicked it in behind him.

Eddie didn’t spare a minute. He had you pressed against the door, kissing you deeply. Curious hands explored your body, and you gripped at his t-shirt. You kissed for what felt like an eternity. So much lost time needed to be made up for. Eddie pressed you harder into the door. He had your hands pinned above your head, his hips mindlessly grinding into you.

“This reminds me of the first time we met, Angel… how I wanted to bend you over and claim you as mine when we were in that dressing room. You were such a little tease wearing that tiny little skirt, just like this one. I could almost see your panties when you were doing those sexy dances on stage.” You moaned at his words, and he latched into your neck. His kisses were rough; you knew he would break some blood vessels. You have been so touch-starved that you managed to wiggle your hands out of his grip, begging to feel him. Your hands land on his sculpted chest as your fingers moulded into the stiff muscles, as Eddie simultaneously slips his hands lower down your body and back up to your bare thighs. His touch was leaving an electrical current as the rough calluses of his fingertips scratched your supple skin. They slowly made their way up, up, up, grazing over your dampened panties. The pool of arousal that had collected was being smeared over your lips as Eddie's four fingers ran back and forth through your folds.

"You're soaked for me, Babygirl. You got my fingers all pruned up." He pulls his hand away, and you whine at the loss of contact. You can see your arousal coating his fingers as he spreads them apart, showing your sticky liquid caught between his digits.

"I think we need to get rid of these '' Eddie takes a step back to hook his fingers on the waistband of your panties and pulls them down your legs, and you step out of them without hesitation.

A mischievous grin appeared on Eddie's face as he popped back up, holding out the sopping material before him so he could read. Corroded Coffin printed right on top of your cunt like you belonged to him.

"Oh, hohhh, hohhhh," He laughed, shaking his head, shoving them into his pocket for later. Eddie dropped to his knees before you could say anything more, his plush lips latched into your soaking cunt.

Sounds of muffled moans and grunts could be heard from the hallway behind the door, but there wasn't a care in the world for that. You both were too distracted by the fading of the music over the speakers to notice that the opening act was over.

"Yes, right there, Eddie, baby, I am so close; please, please, please don't stop," you panted as your hand gripped his hair like your life depended on it.

Just as you were about to come, the loudest bang from the other side of the door startled you so much that you let out a yelp of fright.

The vibrations of Eddie's mouth were no longer the only vibrations running throughout your body. You felt the reverberation of the door through your back as the person on the opposite side of the door pounded their fist against it.

"Come on, man, it's showtime. We have stalled enough," Gareth yelled.

With an unsatisfied sigh, you hoisted Eddied onto his feet and pulled your skirt back down.

"Sorry baby, I'll meet you after the show," he readjusted himself in his tight pants. He kissed you one last time before another startling knock rattled the door.

"I'm coming!" Eddie belted out, obviously annoyed.

“At least one of us is.” You mumbled under your breath, following.

_

Eddie had you situated front and centre so he could keep his eyes on you. The shows could get wild, and he knew mosh pits were always possible. He assigned Craig, the most oversized security guard they had, to pull you up and over the barricade should one break out.

It was nice being on this side of the stage for once. You'd forgotten what it was like, the anticipation of the stage lights coming to life at any minute, the strum of the guitar to warn everyone that the show was beginning.

The crowd lit up the second it happened. You cheered your little heart out as the man you adored rose from under the stage, looking like an adonis.

A single spotlight cast down on the band as the dry ice travelled across the stage. His shirtless chest adorned the strap of his beloved Warlock that has seen better days.

You noticed something tied to the end as you scanned the beloved guitar. The red fabric dangled as he strummed the first notes to the old song. Your eyes bulge as you realize what is precisely attached to the end of his guitar... Your panties, the ones you completely forgot you were no longer wearing, were upfront and centre like Eddie's little trophy, showing them off to a crowd of 40,000 people.

Eddie strutted forward to the mic; the confidence that executed off him was the sexist thing you've seen. Seeing Eddie like this in his element, you were willing to jump over the barricade and bone him right then and there.

Halfway through the show, your thighs were slick with your own arousal. Watching how his nimble fingers moved over the fret, how his body became shiny with sweat. The way Eddie commanded the crowd and the stage, he was made for this. It boggles your mind how he could leave this behind for so long. No wonder women were flinging themselves at him in the past. He looked like a god onstage, and you were ready to worship him, sacrifice your body to him.

You were so wrapped up in your thoughts that you failed to realize that the crowd around you was getting louder, girls screaming, men head banging, and people pushing because your boyfriend hopped off the stage. Someone from behind jolted you forward, and you snapped out of your daydreams. In front of you was Eddie propped up on the barricade. His guitar was behind his back, only a mic in one hand and another hand holding him up. You lock in on his sweaty abs centimetres away from your face. You didn’t think twice when you stuck your tongue out to lick them. The salty taste of sweat coats your tongue. Eddie gazed down at you with a look in his eyes that was maddening, but he kept on performing, feeding into the crowd's energy.

The lights lowered, the song got louder, and the crowd was at its peak; Eddie leaned in with all the adrenaline pumping in his veins. He didn't think twice when he bent down, gripped your chin, forced your mouth open and licked into your mouth. Then something wet and hot hit the back of your throat. A needy moan left your mouth as Eddie put the mic to your lips so the crowd could hear how he controlled you. It was the hottest thing he has done to you yet, still in your little Eddie paradise, unbeknownst to you, the whole thing was caught on the big screens. The crowd's roar grew louder as the whole scene of Eddie spitting into your mouth played out for them.

You could feel everyone's phones pointed at the two of you in your vicinity, but you didn’t care. This was your Eddie’s time to shine.

Eddie motioned for Craig to help you over the barricade; you shook your head no because, for one thing, you would flash the entire crowd, and for two, you wanted to keep watching. However, Craig did as he was told and lifted you from your armpits over his head up and over the fence and back down again before you knew what was happening. He took you and led you to the dressing room.

“Ed said that the show only has two more songs, and he didn’t want you to deal with the madness of the after-show.” He explained when opening the door for you. “Oh, thanks, Craig.” You smiled, and he closed the door behind you. He was right. There were only about 15 minutes left of the show. Disappointed that you didn’t get to see it, but you could still hear it.

To kill ten minutes, you scroll on your phone, seeing that you’ve been tagged in so many videos of Eddie eating your face in front of the thousands of people in the crowd. If anyone had doubts about the two of you before, they definitely wouldn’t anymore. Watching the video over and over again only made your pussy throb more than it had been when it actually what happening.

Another five minutes pass, and you hear the roar of the crowd die down; you decide to not waste any more time and strip down into nothing for Eddie. The seconds tick by, and your anticipation gets the best of you; you sit on the couch with a throw pillow to cover yourself just in case he isn’t alone.

The door clicked open, and your heart fluttered; Eddie walked in, alone, thankfully, and locked the door behind him. He was glowing from the sweat that clung to his body, but that didn’t bother you. You were feral, and the instinctive need for him was taking over.

Eddie stalked towards you as you stood up, removing the pillow. “Fuck baby, such a good girl already ready for me.” Eddie gripped the back of your head and pulled you into the sloppiest kiss. Your hands gripped anywhere there was skin; you needed to feel him after what seemed like the most prolonged foreplay ever. Eddie bent lower into you to deepen the kiss, but the tightness in his back says otherwise.

“Ah- fuck ow” he pops back up and grips his lower back.

“Baby what’s wrong?! You as in a panic. You asked in a panic.

“Fuck, it’s my back, babe, I went too hard on the closing number,” He winced and shook his head.

As he hobbled to the couch, you helped ease him down so he was propped up with a pillow behind him to support his back.

“I’m sorry, baby, I was really going to rock your world.” He sighed, tracing his hands up and down your outer thighs.

“Oh, that’s too bad. I’ll just have to rock yours then.” You unzip his pants and shimmy them down his legs as he winced at the jerky moment his leather pants were jostled from his sticky skin. After what seemed like an eternity, you managed to get his cock out of the tight confines of his pants. Mumbling a sorry when you heard him curse under his breath.

You place your knees on the couch straddling his lap and grip his hardened cock in your hands as you run his tip through your pussy folds. You let your head fall back at the feeling of Eddie connected to you before you skink down on his cock. He slid in easily; you've been ready for him since you stepped off the plane.

The feeling of him bare for the first time against your wet walls was intoxicating.

“Fuck me, baby, you’re so tight” Eddie was so drunk off your pussy already. He didn’t even realize this would be your first time having sex without a condom.

“Uh, you feel so good, Eds” You rode his cock up and down, building speed as the tip of his cock hit your g spot with every bounce.

Eddie took one of your hardened nipples into his mouth, sending waves of pleasure to your clit.

“You like riding my dick baby?” Eddie looks up at you as you continue bouncing like his little feral bunny.

“Yes, Sir! Feels so good,” You cry.

The feeling in your lower stomach was building, but you needed more.

“You're a greedy bunny, aren’t ya? He nips at your perked bud again, making you yell out from the sting.

“Answer me, little one.” he slaps the top of your breast, only making you grind your hips harder and faster. Your fingertips gripped his shoulders as you tried to come up with words. You feel another slap but this time on your ass.

“Yes Sir! I’m so greedy for you” You pant, your legs becoming numb, Eddie’s hands circled your plump cheeks, then gripped onto them, and he pumped you up and down on his thick cock.

“Yes! Baby, yes!” You praise.

“Fuck Angel, this tight pussy was made for me… mmpff” he threw his head back against the couch cushions.

“Baby, I’m so close.” you wine

“Fuck me too, bunny. Seeing you bounce on my big cock with your tits bouncing in my face got me feeling like a teenager, going to bust right now” his hands gripes into you tighter.

“Me too, just a little longer.” You lean your head down to kiss his mouth, then his jaw and then that place on his neck, making him thrust his hips faster and harder. The incessant smacking off skin to skin filled the empty room; Eddie moaned as he came quicker than he thought he would; he usually lasts longer than this. You kept bouncing on his cock, pumping his cum into yourself further up up up until Eddie pulled out of you and lifted your body so your dripping pussy was eye level to his face. He latched his mouth onto your clit, as you hiked one leg onto the couch's armrest so Eddie could access your sticky cunt. Your fingers only dug into Eddie’s muscular shoulders more as he played with your swollen bud. The coil was tightening, and you wanted to let go and let the euphoria wash over you.

“Baby more please” You whimpered.

Eddie’s thick fingers broke through your cum coated entrance, you could feel it dripping down your leg. That's when Eddie realized in his post-nut clarity that he came inside you for the first time. Not caring about the consequences, he just wanted to make you feel good. He could see in your face you were close; he replaced his tongue with his thumb to talk you through it. He knew you loved his mouth in more ways than one.

“Come on, pretty girl, I know you can do it. Come for me, come for your Eddie. Fuck you’re so fucking sexy. Yeah, that’s it, that’s my pretty girl. You’re getting tighter; I can feel it. I won’t let any more of this come slip out of you until you finish. “ Eddie’s magic fingers brought you to the brink, and his words made you spill over. The euphoric feeling washed over your body as you spasmed in Eddie’s lap. Your body shook like it was possessed, and you clenched your jaw so tight that not even a sound left your body as your orgasm washed through you. “Fuck baby, that must have been a big one” Eddie stroked your hair as you collapsed onto his body. “Yeah, I don’t think I've ever come that hard before,” You panted.

Eddie patted himself on the back, and you gave him a look that said what the fuck. “What?” Eddie laughed. “I did all the work!” You got up onto wobbly legs.“Oh, so that’s how it’s going to be? I swear if my back was right, you’d be over my knee, young lady.” he pointed a finger at you. “Oh, I’m soooo scared,” you laughed as you went to get a towel from the bathroom clean up. “Just because I can’t move at the moment doesn’t give you the right to act like a brat.” You could hear the amusement in Edie’s voice. “Oh yeah, come and get me, old man.” You stood a few inches out of his reach. “Not fair, babe.” He pouted and crossed his arms against his bare chest. You giggled at the sight in front of you. “Oh my poor baby,” you gave in; you would be soulless to not give into those big brown puppy dog eyes. “Yes, your poor baby!” He dramatically flung his arms around you as that was the part of his body that didn’t hurt. Laughing at his dramatics, you wrap yourself back into his lap. “You were incredible tonight, baby; I almost forgot to tell you.” You kissed his cheek. “Really? Lil old me?” He batted his eyes. “Yes, baby, I’m serious! Your stage presence, you command the crowd, you were made for this baby. I’m so happy you and the band are back doing what you should be,” you smiled. “Thank you, baby.” Eddie’s head swelled at your praises. You were everything to him, and hearing you say those words only made the love he has yet to confess to you grow stronger.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The tour wrapped up just in time for the winter holidays. Your time off was split between your family on the East Coast and the Munsons on the West Coast. Your family was disappointed that you couldn't bring around your new man, but they understood the circumstances of the relationship. It was only supposed to be business as far as they knew. One night at your parent's house, cozied up by the fire, you were having a nightcap with your mom after your dad went to bed. You confided in your mom your true feelings for one another. The age gap worried her like it would any mother, but you did your best to share how much Eddie meant to you, and he meant a lot to you. The L word was looming. You tip-toed around it, trying so very hard not to admit it out loud because the consequences were disastrous. It had been on the tip of your tongue, but you suppressed those feelings because you knew in your heart things would have to end eventually, and you had to protect yourself.

New Year's Eve was spent with Eddie; he threw a party every year, and this year was the first time Violet Rose managed to stay up for the stroke of Midnight. She fought back her heavy lids and managed to make it to 12:15 a.m. before sleep took over.

The new year was filled with writing, recording, and performing music. You were asked to perform at the Grammys this year, as you were nominated as Best New Artist.

Eddie and you pulled up to the Red Carpet of the Grammys as your first official outing as a couple. It has been eight months since the contract was signed and 4 months since you and Eddie confessed your feelings for one another. Tonight was a bit nerve-racking, seeing as though this was your first red carpet, your first time being nominated, your first time being invited to the Grammys, your first time performing at the Grammys and your first official public appearance with Eddie. You stepped out of the limo after Eddie. He helped you out of the car, holding your hand the entire time. He was always dressed in black, and you wore a strapless lilac Oscar de la Renta gown that you tried so hard not to trip over.

"I got you, Angel. No need to cut off the blood flow to my hand," Eddie chuckled.

"What?- Oh, sorry" You hadn't noticed how hard you were squeezing him until you looked at both of your hands intertwined, and Eddie's fingertips were bright red from the blood pooled there.

"Breath, Angel." Eddie wrapped an arm around your waist, guiding you to the row of paparazzi lined up. Your name and his name are yelled from every direction, the flashes of light temporarily blinding you. You went through the motions as your heart rate went up, playing off your nerves to the camera as Eddie talked you down, whispering sweet nothings in your ear.

You had made it to the primary carpet all the interviewers had been at. Eddie guided you to a lady with one of the biggest smiles on her face. "Oh my god, I can't believe I have Hollywood's hottest couple here with me tonight!" She cheered. You and Eddie both said hello. "So it really is official? The dating rumours seem to be going on for months, with you two being very sneaky with no confirmation, but by the looks of it, tonight, this is the big reveal!" She pointed the mic to Eddie.

"Yeah, I can't believe I managed to swing this one, she sure is something to be putting up with me," Eddie laughed. He was such a natural at this with all his years in the limelight under his belt.

"So you are performing tonight. Has your man given you any words of wisdom, seeing as though he is an OG?" She directed the question at you.

"Well, he has definitely calmed my nerves, that's for sure. This is my first big event like this, and I'm really glad he is by my side for it. I don’t think I’d be able to be here if I was on my own.” You look up at him and continue, "He has all the confidence in me that is enough for the both of us, so having him here with me tonight makes it extra special."

"Oh em gee, love is in the air tonight! The way he is looking at you, how can you not swoon?" she flutters her hand over her face. "haha yeah..." you laugh awkwardly. That dreaded L word brought up when you and Eddie had never discussed it makes you overthink what you were doing again. "Don't make me do another one of those. I don't think I’ll survive," You whisper to Eddie as you walk away from the interviewer. Eddie barked out a laugh that caught everyone's attention. You could hear another interviewer you were walking towards. "Seems as though Hollywood's newest couple is enjoying themselves this evening. Maybe we can get a word or two?" "Come on, baby, I'll do all the talking. You just stand there and look pretty, okay?" Eddie kissed the side of your head and guided you along.

The rest of the night was a blur; your performance had gone perfectly, according to your manager, but you blacked out from all the stress of the night. You were relieved when you didn't win Best New Artist because you didn't have to go up and talk in front of everyone all over again.

Thankfully, the only thing after the show was the afterparty, and you and Eddie stayed briefly. About an hour and a half was spent mingling, and Eddie introduced you to everyone at the party, and your social battery was fried.

When you and Eddie got home, well to Eddie's home, you couldn't wait to crawl into his bed. The place you felt the safest and calmed you, the place that consumed you by all things, Eddie.

You asked Eddie to unzip your dress. It was the first thing you said to him since you got into the limo. Tonight had knocked everything out of you, and Eddie sensed something was off.

"I'm sorry again, baby, that you didn't win; let me make you feel better." He kissed across your bare shoulder and up your neck. "Baby... is it okay if we maybe don't tonight?" you turn to face him, holding your dress to your chest so it doesn't fall. "Yeah, baby? are you feeling okay?" He puts a hand on your forehead to check your temperature. "I'm fine, Eds." You giggle. "Well, something must be bothering you if you don't want any of this." He swings his hips around, pretending to thrust into you, making you laugh more. "Baby, I'm just exhausted. I promise I'm okay about not winning; I just want you to hold me?" you look up at him with that look he cannot resist. "Of course, Angel." He wraps you into his chest and kisses the top of your head. "I'm going to get out of this thing before I ruin it, and I'll be right there." You motion to the dress that was worth thousands. You crawled into bed with Eddie, fresh-faced in one of Eddie's shirts. You snuggle your head into His bare chest, and he smooths down your hair.

"You were amazing tonight, I am so proud of you. Did I tell you that?" He mumbles. "I don't remember? I blacked out for half the night." You laugh. That makes Eddie jerk up so he can look down at you. "I knew there was something off about you tonight, baby. I'm sorry" He pulled you in tighter. "I'll be ok, Eds, now that I am here with you." You drift off. "God, I love you," Eddie says under his breath as he kisses the top of your head just as sleep takes over you....

Eddie’s confession had gone unnoticed by you. The following day, he was anxious and jittery, but he blamed it on not getting a good night's sleep because his back was acting up again.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

Weeks passed, and Eddie never bought it up again, scared that you’re pretending you didn’t hear him to spare his feelings, but honestly, you did not hear his declaration.

Eddie planned an extravagant getaway for the two of you since your one-year mark of the contract was approaching, and he wanted to celebrate what brought the both of you together.

You were sitting in your condo’s living room watching TV with Eddie when he cleared his voice. “So, what do you say about joining me on Thursday for breakfast on the Amalfi Coast?.” He cocks his head like a curious puppy. “Ha, good one babe!” You laugh at the thought. It was already Tuesday evening. “I’m serious!” He laughs back. “Babe, what do you mean? We can’t just up and leave?” You question. “Why not? You have any major plans I don’t know about?” Eddie was getting kind of nervous that you did because if so, it would ruin everything. “Well..” You think, no, you really didn’t have anything booked, studio time, no interviews or photoshoots. In fact, your manager had called to tell you a bunch of stuff had been pushed back until the 20th… did Eddie?

“What did you do?” You look at him suspiciously. “I don’t know what you’re talking about?” He gave you a smile like the Cheshire Cat while pulling you into his lap. “Babe,” you warn him. “Angel, I took care of everything because you and I are going on a little getaway alone.” He nibbled under your ear. “Oh my god, I have to pack!” You jump up and run to your closet for your suitcases. You can hear Eddie chuckle as he follows behind you.

_

“Babe, can you at least let me pay you back for the ticket?” You ask as you pull into the grounds of the airport. “No, can do, babe, I didn’t buy a ticket,” he laughed. “But how are we?- Shut up!” It suddenly hit you that Eddie once told you on your first date that he has a private jet, one you haven’t seen until now. As you stare out the car window, the plane is coming into view.

The car had parked on the runway right beside his jet; Eddie jumped out first to open the door for you, a custom you have gotten used to, so you just let it happen.

“After you m’lady.” He bowed and gestured to the plane beside you.

A slight “wow” left your lips as you looked at it in awe. You climbed the steps with Eddie getting the best view of your ass as he tailed right behind you.

You walked in, and your jaw dropped. There was a cream leather couch just as you walked in by the door, another that mirrored another sofa on the opposite side, with four matching leather swivel chairs up at the front of the plane. There were cream carpets that ran throughout the interior adorned with accented black lacquered wood that ran up the walls of the plane, and across the front of the cabin was a soundproof divider that separated you from the caption and the one steward that was to travel with you.

Eddie introduced you to Charles the captain, an older gentleman probably in his mind 50’s, and Paulina, the air hostess, who was way too pretty to not be a model in your opinion.

“Mr. Munson, a pleasure as always,” she greets him, ignoring you. Oh, so that’s how it was going to be? “Paulina, was it?” You turn back to her, and you set your purse down.

She gives you a tempered smile

“How about you get us some Champagne? We are celebrating.” You wrap your hands around Eddie's waist protectively, and Eddie senses your threat. He rolls his eyes and shakes his head at your ridiculousness. “Of course.” She nods her head and walks away.

“You, Little One, have nothing to worry about.” He boops your nose before he plops down, pulling you down with him. “So you and her never?” You pout. “Never. Ever.” He nuzzles his head into the cook of your neck.

Paulina walks in and sets the tray with the champagne flutes on the crystal coffee table before you.

“Is there anything else I can get for you?” She asks cordially. “No, I don’t think we will need much this trip. I’ll ring the call bell if anything, but it should be relaxing for you.” Eddie charms her. “Sounds good, Mr. Munson.” She turns and closes the cabin door.

About half an hour into the flight, you and Eddie could take off your seatbelts, and you and Eddie got comfortable. He asked Paulina to help him make up the sofa that turned out to be a daybed and then put on a movie for the two of you to watch and have background noise while you talk.

“I was thinking… I can get you into this club I know of while on this trip… if you want.” Eddie trailed his index finger dawned with a ring with a dragon's head up your thigh. “Oh, what kind of club?” You ask with genuine curiosity. “Very exclusive; only people who are very high up get to be a part of it.” Eddie holds back a giggle. “Oh? Would this club be called the Mile High Club?” You giggle as you feel the third glass of champagne take over. “God, you’re so smart.” Eddie leaned in and kissed your lips. It was sloppy due to the alcohol so early in the morning, but you were on vacation.

Eddie pulled you into his lap so you could straddle him. He pressed his already hard length up into you and loudly moaned. “Shhhh, Baby, they will hear you.” You look over to the cabin door. “No, they won’t. It’s soundproofed; we can be as loud as we want, Baby, and I want you loud.” he kissed the column of your neck as you leaned your head back in pleasure.

“Now, be my good girl and tell me what you want? Hmm?”

“I want you to do whatever you want to me,” you breathed into his mouth, asking for another searing kiss.

Eddie placed a hand on the back of your head and guided you down so he was hovering over you as you lay on the pullout couch.

The leather squeaked beneath you as he adjusts your bodies.

“I’m going to undress you, then I’m going to kiss every inch of your body, and you are going to let me. You’re not going to rush me or beg or pout. You’re going to let me worship you. Understood?” He started by taking off your shoes.

“Yes, Sir,” you nod your head.

“Good girl,” he smiles. You feel a rush in your pussy at his words. How he looks at you, how he wants to please you, and not because you asked him to but because he wants to, is making your head spin. Never has any other man you’ve been with been this attentive to your needs.

He had you down to your underwear, the plane was cool, and goosebumps spread across your skin.

“Don’t worry, Baby. I’ll have you warmed up in no time. He grabbed an ankle and started kissing around your perfectly manicured foot. He wasn’t playing around when he said he would kiss every inch of you. He was going at an agonizingly slow pace. He made his way down your leg to your inner thigh and took off your panties. He breezed over your mound; your hips jerked up, and Eddie gave you a look of warning. “Don’t disobey me, Angel”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to; it’s just what you do to me, Baby.” You looked up at him with sorry eyes.

Eddie threw his head back and groaned. You were his succubus, his own personal vixen. He continued kissing across your other thigh, down your leg to your other ankle. The feeling of his beard and soft lips made you shiver. He tried kissing your feet, but you begged him not to because you’re so ticklish and didn’t want to accidentally kick him in the face.

“I can’t ruin that smile, Baby.” Eddie’s heart fluttered when you called him your little pet names. He leaned forward after gently putting your leg down. He kissed you from your forehead across both cheeks, getting copious giggles out of you. Your giggles subsided when he moved lower, down your neck, across your chest. He kissed over your baby pink lace bra that didn’t hide your perked nipples. You lifted your back so he could unhook your bra, and you shimmied your shoulders so you could release your arms out of the straps. Eddie looked down at you like you could give him the world. The words were on the tip of his tongue, but you pulled him by the back of the neck to kiss him, not caring about the consequences. The way he looked at you made your stomach flip. Eddie cascaded his tongue over your bottom lip, pushing his way into your mouth. Your tongues danced as his hands trailed down your body, leaving goosebumps in their wake. Lower and lower until they reach your silky folds.

“You wanna know something, Angel?” Eddie pulls back, slowly brushing over your

“What, that handsome?”

“You have the perfect lips for kissing”

“Then come back here.” You reach up to grab him, but he stops you.

“Those weren’t the lips I was talking about” He gives you a cheeky grin and then slides down your body until he is face to face with your needy cunt.

This man was too smooth with his words; you didn't need any more foreplay. He could slide in right now, and nothing would be blocking his way. You felt your wetness drip down your leg as Eddie spread you open, leaving one kiss on your pussy before he flips you onto all fours.

“Babyyyyyy” you whine while wiggling your ass in the air.

“I told you, Little One, I am kissing every inch of your body, and you’re going to take it.” He whispered in your ear, hunching over you.

He made his way up your arm, across your shoulders, and down the other arm. The goosebumps came back as he continued down your spine and across every inch of your back. You swore he’d given you 100 kisses by now, but that didn’t stop him.

“Arch for me baby, let me see you” You couldn’t see Eddie’s face, but the tone in his voice the was it went active lower letting you know he was no longer playing around.

“Yes, sir.” You arched your back and sped your legs wider so he could see, just like he had asked.

“Fuck look at you,” He whispered under his breath, and you felt his warm lips come in contact with your cool skin. You felt his soft lips kiss from the top of your tailbone and down to the fat of your ass. His teeth scraped the large muscle, and his mouth left rings of saliva that became cold once he lifted his lips from your skin. You felt his mouth moving closer to your centre, lower until you felt his two hands spread your cheeks open, giving him a small yelp, not being ready to be so exposed, especially in this well-lit plane. His warm mouth fell onto the inside of your cheek, and you gave out another yelp. No one had been so close, so intimate with you like this before.

“I told you, baby, I’m worshipping every inch” You didn’t have time to think before you felt his mouth on your puckered hole.

“Oh my god” you gasped as arousal shot through you.

“Anyone ever plays with this little hole” Eddie kissed you again before a strong hand came down on your ass cheek, making you moan.

“No, Sir” you sucked in a breath.

“What a shame, she’s real pretty” he circled a wet finger around your asshole and your pussy cliched around nothing.

“Would you like me to continue?” He whispered in your ear.

“I did tell you to do whatever you want to me,” you countered back.

“But do you want it?” Eddie grabbed your chin and made you look up as he hovered behind you.

“Yes!” You cry

“Yes. What?” He gritted through his teeth because you should know better.

“Yes, sir, play with my asshole.”

“God, I love when you talk dirty” Eddie slid down your body and licked a long wet strip from your clit to your second hole. A breathy sound of pleasure rips from your lungs, one so loud you even startled yourself. “That's it, baby, let me hear you.” Eddie lapped and circled you so good your eyes were rolling into the back of your head. You never thought you would be into this, but it was Eddie; he made you feel safe, and you liked it when he showed you new things in the bedroom.

His tongue glided across and around your tight hole, as his thick fingers penetrated your pussy. “Doing alright, sweetheart?” He checked in, but you were too zoned out, lost in your own pleasure, you didn’t hear him. Moan after moan left your mouth, not even able to form words.

“I’ll take that as a yes” He smirked before he dove back in, this time his tongue broke its way through your tight walls. Before you knew it, you were coming. The combination of Eddie's fingers and tongue fucking you made your walls tighten, and a roar came from your lungs. “That's it, Princess.” Eddie removed his wet fingers covered with your spend and circled them around your other hole.

“Hollyshit” you breathed out.

“I’m not finished with you yet.” Eddie pulled you back by your hair, sticking his tongue in your mouth. By far the filthiest thing he’s ever done to you, but you were already begging him to do it again. “Please, please, give it to me.” he drops your head from his hand, and your face softly falls onto the cushion. “Such a filthily girl. You want me to split open your pussy with my cock while I finger fuck your ass?” He spoke while taking off the rest of his clothing.

“Please,” you begged.

“My girl is greedy, but what my girl wants, she gets” You felt the couch shift as he knelt down to align himself with your needy pussy. He spreads your lips to get a full view of himself slowly entering your wet hole.

Eddie pumped into you slowly, picking up the pace with each stroke. He spread your ass cheeks open to expose your two holes. You hear him spit as hot saliva cascades down your hole.

“You sure you want this sweetheart?” He grazed his finger over your hole, getting it ready for him. “God! Yes, Eddie! Please!” His cock was hitting your G spot perfectly; with each stroke, you could feel the hot metal of his piercing rubbing your inner walls but needed something more to get you to the edge.

Eddie let it slide that you didn’t call him Sir because he was too damn excited that you let him play with your ass. “Fuck yea, Princess.” He slips his wet thumb into your puckered hole. It surprisingly felt good. Honestly, you were prepared for it to hurt, but the added pressure made your head spin.

“Who does this ass being too?” He gritted, slapping his hips into you, his cock so deep inside that you see stars. If you turned your head to look over your shoulder, you would have seen Eddie’s body glow with sweat, flushed face and a look in his eye that would’ve convinced you he was so madly in love with you. But you never did, too consumed by how Eddie made you feel. The way he fed you the pleasure you always craved, the pleasure you always needed but never received until now.

More moans filled the room, unable to answer. All of your senses were on overdrive. “Huh, baby girl? I didn’t quite hear you?” he slowed down, making you feel every inch of him leave your body and then slammed back into you. “You! Oh god, my body is yours!” You bury your face into the couch cushion. “That's right, Little One, you’re mine.” Eddie pulls you back up with one strong arm and fixes your body to parallel his.

“But if you’re mine. Then I am yours. Tell me I’m yours,” he panted.

“Fuck Eddie, you’re all mine, mine, mine, mine,” you chant your mantra until your walls spasm around his cock, your orgasm cascading through your whole body, your limbs struggle to hold you up as you try to hold yourself up. Eddie continues to thrust into your throbbing cunt until he is so close he pulls out again, being reckless and “forgetting” to put on a condom. He pulls out, and you hear the lewd sound of wet skin smacking as pumped his load on your ass. You feel the hot streams of cum coat your skin.

“Shit, that’s a pretty picture. Don’t you dare move” Eddie grabs his phone off the table and snaps a picture of you with your ass in the air, fucked out of your mind with his cum running down your crack.

“This is going to hold me over for a long time” Eddie laughs

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

The car pulled up to a villa right on the edge of the water. You could hear the crystal blue sea water splashing the rocky coastal line. You could smell the salt in the air, the sea breeze was cool on your skin, and the hot sun beamed down in the cloudless sky. The concrete building was painted a terracotta that was slowly failing but only added to the vintage flair.

“Welcome home, Baby” Eddie kissed the top of your head and led you inside.

The large wooden door creaked open, and you entered the most beautiful home you’ve ever seen. “This house is yours?” You asked, “No baby, ours,” he corrects. “Not what I meant, Eddie; I meant you own this place?” You reiterated. “Yes, Angel.” he pulled you in closer, put your bags down and kissed you.

You didn’t even get a chance to look around before you and Eddie jump one another’s bones again… On the sofa, the porch daybed, the kitchen counter, the shower, and the bedroom. It was a miracle you convinced Eddie to get out of bed and show you around. Wrapped up in the crisp sheets, which remained black even in this home with this distinctly Italian decor.

You reminded him he promised to take you to that Café on your first date. “Eddie, you promised me the best pastry in the whole world, we have been here 34 hours, and I still haven’t experienced it” you pout.

Eddie’s propped up on an elbow, giving you a look.

“What?” You ask innocently.

“Just looking at you makes me so horny” Eddie leans into you, pushing you into the plush pillows that adorn the bed, he was an addict, and you were the fix, the only one that could cure his hunger.

Eventually, you had gotten Eddie out of bed and into the Italian streets. Your days were filled with walking hand in hand. He took you to the Café first. They did, in fact, have the best croissant you had ever tasted and the best Caffe latte you ever had. Eddie and you strolled through every shop you said you wanted to go into, buying a bunch of trinkets and gelato. He took you to the beach the next day, and the day after that, you toured around the city some more; he booked a cooking class where you were taught how to make homemade pasta. The next day, you went on a winery tour. There was so much to discover and so much history to see; the week was jam-packed with things to do, and you never felt so free. Being here with Eddie in another country where no paparazzi was hounding you every moment of every day. You kept your socials quiet, not wanting to tell anyone where you were. Having it just be you and Eddie was a dream. Not that you didn’t miss Vi, but the break was needed.

_

You only had 2 days left of your trip. Tonight, Eddie cooked for you. It was one of the most romantic evenings you two shared. He had put out candles on the dining room table, had music on in the background, and asked you to dance with him on the balcony under the stars, and now you were standing in a moonlit room in front of a floor-length mirror, naked.

Still fully clothed, Eddie walked up behind you, and his hand slowly grazed your shoulder, up across your collarbone, and then he teasingly wrapped one finger at a time around your throat. He jerks your head to the side so he can speak to you. You can feel his hot breath on your ear as he says, “Look at you. America, Sweetheart, getting all wet and sticky just for me. Are you going to let me touch you, Princess? fuck that sweet little cunt of yours?” You desperately try and nod your head, but Eddie’s grip is firm. “Use your words,” he growls in your ear.

“Yes Sir” you sighed.

“God, no one makes me as horny as you do,” he growls in your ear.

Eddie leans closer, his other hand not on your throat, wraps around your waist, pulling you into him as he pushes his stiff cock into your lower back. He moves in to kiss you, and goosebumps appear all over your body as his lips connect to the supple skin of your neck. It’s more gentle than what you're expecting. His hand slides down from your waist, leaving your throat to cup your breast.

“Look at yourself while I touch you,” Eddie whispers. You don’t dare disobey his orders tonight; something about tonight is different: you want to be good for him no matter what. He has been so good to you. All you want is to be that for him in return. So you turn your head and look at where his fingers connect with your skin. His calloused tips are rough on your breast's soft, delicate skin. The pads of his fingers cascade through your wet folds, and you try so hard for your knees not to buckle at the sight you’re witnessing.

“That’s my pretty girl. You’re so good to me.” He slowly circled your clit as you continued to watch. You tried so hard to not fall to your knees. Your hands find his muscular thighs, and you drip onto them for dear life. You let out a breathy moan as Eddie sucked on your neck, hitting that sweet spot he is good at locating on the first try. You finally broke and turned so you could be face to face. You needed to kiss him like you needed air to breathe.

Eddie grabbed onto your bare ass and hoisted you up. You wrapped your legs around his thick torso, and he walked the two of you over to the bed as you left a trail of kisses down his neck.

Eddie ever so gently laid you down on the bed like you were made of glass. You watched him from the bed as he stripped down into nothing, missing his touch the entire time he was away. “Baby I need you,” reach out for him.

“I know Angel, I’m right here. I gotcha.” he crawled on top of you.

You were right; something about tonight was different between the both of you; the dynamic wasn’t raw and animalistic. It was soft and delicate. Eddie crawled on top of you and slowly slid himself into you. The execution was effortless. Your slick canal was more than ready to take him. He kissed you and kissed you, and kissed you. Eddie kissed you all over. No words were being spoken. The only sound that filled the room was the sound of skin-on-skin and illegible moans of pleasure. No words needed to be spoken, not anymore. Not tonight. You and Eddie both knew that tonight was about making love. He was soft and gentle, 180 from where you two usually went in the bedroom, but this is what you needed, the missing puzzle piece finally being found. Eddie’s hands intertwined with your own; considering all of the intimate things you had done thus far, this moment takes the cake. He was gazing into your eyes, and his cock brushed the walls of your pussy. Each thrust had meaning behind it. Each time he leaned in to kiss, you meant something, something more than you would ever have the pleasure of knowing. You felt love, even if he hadn’t said anything; you knew deep, deep down this was his way of showing you how much you meant to him. To take care of you, to be there for you… and the same goes for him, even if you don’t know it. You being there for Violet Rose and being there for Eddie also made you the missing puzzle piece to his life.

“Eddie, baby, I’m close” You broke the silence and tucked his wild main behind his ears.

Eddie smiled and brought his hand down between your bodies so he could massage your clit, knowing how much you loved when he played with the bundle of nerves. Only a few circles do it for you until your body is jerking under Eddie’s.

“That’s my girl, fuck yes, that’s it. Just like that, come for me, Angel.” he kept thrusting as the orgasm took over your body.

The feeling of his head hitting the top of your cunt as your pussy clamps down on his cock like a vice has Eddie following not far behind. He tried to pull out before he came, but when you begged him to come inside you. Who was he to deny the women he loves? He’s only but a man, a man blinded by your magical pussy that was sucking him back in.

“Fuck baby, you want my babies, you want me to get you all round and pregnant. You want my cum that bad.” He whispered.

All you could do was nod and pull his body closer to you, not ever wanting him to leave.

“Fuck” Eddies thrusts became less uniform and sloppy as he came, releasing his seed inside you.

Eddie pulled out a few seconds later. you were at a loss, but you had to clean yourself up, so you tried getting up, but Eddie stopped you.

“Where are you going?”

“To the bathroom, I have to you know” suddenly feeling shy.

“No, you stay here. I’ll go.”

“But I feel it leaking already” you giggle

Eddie hopped out of bed and ran to the master bathroom; you couldn’t help but check out his little tush as it glowed in the moonlight.

Not even 30 seconds later he was back with a damp towel helping you clean up. “I, um, I hope you know about the baby thing… It was just um, I uh.” He cleared his throat.

“It’s okay, I have an IUD remember.” You roll over to face him. “Okay, good, right. But never can be too careful,” he clarified.

“It was um in the moment, I liked it” You shuffle your body so you're resting your head on his bare chest.

“I’m always careful, but somehow, you know how to make my brain mush.” He laughs.

“I guess I have that effect on people.” You tilt your head up to kiss his neck.

“Fuck Angel, I don’t know if I can go again,” he sighed.

“ M’sorry baby, you’re just so sexy” You hum in his ear.

Eddie turned his head and lifted your chin so he could kiss you. You melted back into the bedsheets, feeling the best you’d ever felt.

“We should go to sleep, baby. I have a big have a big day planned for us tomorrow."

“Okay, goodnight baby” you sigh as he gives you one last goodnight kiss.

_

The following day, you woke up with dread coursing through your veins. Wide awake, laying in bed, your head cleared, you realized the mistake you had made last night. The bond between you and Eddie was too woven, too tight. It will kill you to break it, but you had to, and now you ruined everything.

You were spaced out the rest of the day; you hardly realized you had been outside walking by the water. "I have something special planned for us." Eddie took your hand as you walked through the ancient cobblestone streets, snapping you out of your daze.

Your heart sank, this was all becoming too much, but you played it off, not wanting to crush Eddie's heart, so you sucked it up and gave him a smile.

You could see a single yacht docked at the end as you approached the water's edge. As you approached, it was lit with hundreds of tiny fairy lights. You could see red and white balloons and many flowers. Assorted wildflowers mixed with purple roses and... poppies. A nod to the nickname his daughter gave you. Your heart was racing; you couldn't bear to do this to him. You couldn't let him go through with whatever romantic gesture he had planned. Halfway up the ramp, you stopped, and Eddie had tugged on your arm, thinking you were still trekking along behind him.

"What is it, Angel? Are you scared of boats?" He looked concerned, not thinking about that option when he had planned that night.

"No, uh, it isn't that." You fought back the crack in your voice.

"Then come on, I have to show you something." He said with a smile tugging your arm again, but your feet were planted. Refusing to go any further.

"Eddie. I can't," you whisper.

"Sure, you can come on." He was oblivious to your inner turmoil.

"I can't do this," you shook your head, fighting back the tears.

Eddie's face went from happy school boy to concerned father instantly.

"Baby, what's wrong? Talk to me." he rested both hands on your shoulders, looking down at you with a furrowed brow.

"I need to go. I can't be here." The panic in your voice broke.

"You're scaring me angel, what is wrong?” you didn't think the look of concern could get any more profound, but it did.

You didn't answer him; you turned and walked off the ramp and back down the dock onto the cobbled streets.

Eddie chased after you, not letting you go by yourself in an unfamiliar city alone at night.

"Baby, wait!" you didn't look back. You just kept running. You no longer were able to hold back your tears. The crying turned into sobs. You could hardly see where you had been going before Eddie caught up with you, placing a hand on your shoulder to bring you around to face him.

Your sobs mixed with your panting from running, made you need to catch your breath before you could speak.

"Don't make me do this," You sobbed into him.

Eddie stroked the back of your head, trying to console you; he was confused but more frightened than anything. He didn't understand what made you run? What had he done wrong? Was it the boat?

"Let's get you inside" He guided you down a few more streets, and you caught your breath as you approached the doors to Eddie's home.

Eddie sat you down and went to fetch you a glass of water

"You need to talk to me, Angel. What is going on?" He squatted in front of you, placing both hands on each knee for you to look at him.

"Eddie, we can't do this, this is too real! We took things too far. I don't know what to do? How can we keep doing this when we know how this will end?" you rambled.

"Angel, who says it has to end?" He needed clarification.

"We both signed that contract. You know we can't keep this up forever. We only have one week left before this is all over!" You raised your voice because now you were frustrated. What was he not understanding?

"Who cares about the contract?!" he yelled back, now frustrated.

Eddie had never yelled at you before; never once had he raised his voice at you in the past year.

“I care! My whole career depended on this stupid arrangement!” You yell.

“Oh, that's really all this was to you?! A Stupid arrangement? I’m just a way to get you to the top, huh?” Eddie was hurt. His words came out laced with venom.

“Fuck! No, not anymore! That isn’t want I meant!” You reach your hands out to Eddie, but he flinches away.

“But it's what you said!” He pointed.

“God, Eddie! That’s not what I meant! How we feel no longer matters; we can’t go on!” You cried.

“How could it not matter?!” He stood up and started pacing.

“Because it just can’t! You screamed.

“Yes, I can because guess what? I AM IN LOVE WITH YOU!” Eddie shouts back.

Your heart stops beating, your head starts spinning. Eddie loves you. That's what this date was about; he would profess his love for you...but it’s too late. All of this is too much. You should have kept things professional. It was supposed to be easy. No heartbreaks, no feelings, no getting attached. Simple. It was supposed to be simple!

“None of that matters...” you whisper with a solemn sniffle.

“Doesn’t matter?! How could this not matter?! You’re my world!” your real name fell out of his mouth. Not once in this year had Eddie even muttered your actual name. Your heart breaks into a million shards of glass ripping through your chest. He fell to his knees, kneeling in front of you.

“We can’t be together! This wasn’t supposed to happen!” you stand up off the couch and continue, “We can’t be together, okay! What don’t you understand? We HAVE to break up, Eddie. The contract is over; it's finished. We are finished.” you started pacing the room, you can't look at him, you refuse to look at him. You think you'll be sick if you glance in his direction.

Eddie’s heart was literally cracking into two pieces, how could you be saying these things to him? Why was this happening now? He was going to ask you tonight, he had everything planned… and now you’re breaking up with him? Because of a contract?

“How can you say that? After everything we have been through!” he belted, feeling betrayed.

“The contract says so! My career says so.” You were beyond frustrated and hurt, but this had to be done because legally, it needed to happen.

“Angel, please.” He took a step towards you with his arms reaching out.

“Eddie. Don’t.” you took a step back. Eddie winced as if he had physically been burned.

“I can’t believe you’re throwing all we had away.” He shook his head, refusing to look at you. “There is nothing we can do! We both signed the contract. You knew this day was coming! I don’t understand why I’m the bad guy?!” you pleaded.

“You think I gave two shits about what that piece of paper says? Do you think I read anything it said when I had a dream girl placed in my lap! Do you think I read that?! NO, I didn’t, not when I would be with you!" He tested the waters, taking another step forward, but you took another step back.

“Eddie, please, no. Tell me you knew that we had to break up… please.” you cried.

“Of course not! I don’t care about it. I love you, why don't you understand?!” He pleaded.

“I care! I can’t fuck up my career, don’t you get that?!” You could pull your hair out.

"So that's it? Just like that, we are done? You stand there, and you can look me in the eye and say your career is more important to you than our relationship? That's what all of this is about for you this whole time? I know you love me, and you won't say it back!" Eddie threw his pointer finger at you.

"That's not what I'm saying. You mean everything to me!" Your nose was running, and the streams of mascara and eyeliner cascaded down your cheeks.

"Then why are we fighting?!" Eddie's voice carried more than he knew. You winced at his tone.

You can't handle it when people yell at you. It only makes you cry more.

"Because I can't allow myself to love you." You shake your head in defeat.

"Baby, please don't do this to us. I can't live without you; Violet Rose needs you. I can't picture a life without you in it.” That little red velvet box felt like fifty pounds in his jacket pocket right now.

“So because you say so, that's it? This is the end?" Eddie pinched his brow bone.

“It's not me who decides, Eddie... We both signed a deal..." you seethed.

"Fine," just like that, he turned and stormed out of the front door.

🎸𖤐𝄞💿𓆩🎧𓆪 🎸𖤐𝄞💿

You stood in the grand room with nothing but regret and sorrow to keep you company. You didn't eat, and you didn't sleep much over the next twenty-four hours.

You don't know how long you stood there before your body collapsed from exhaustion. You didn't know your catatonic state would last you a few days. You didn't know how you ended up at the airport, and you don't know how you got on the airplane back to L.A.

You didn't know that that would be your last time seeing Eddie.

You needed to fix this. You called Roger when you finally snapped out of the trance a few days later, but it was too late.

"The story is already out to Princess. It is being streamed on TMZ, People Magazine, and ETalk... There isn't anything we can do. Why do you want to keep it going?" He asked, confused. Knowing he would have cut it shorter, you never disclosed the truth to Roger.

“Never mind, Roger, I guess that’s it then.” You hung up without saying goodbye, no longer able to fight back your sobs.

That was it; the story was out, and you were curled up in bed for days. When the crying finally stopped you were more like a zombie, sleeping, waking up, then sleeping again. Anything to avoid life, you did. You just went through the motions.

Your phone and TV had been off after your phone call with Roger. You decided to turn your phone back on, with the thought of your mom freaking out from not hearing from you in a few days crossed your mind.

The first notification you get as soon as it turns on…“Hollywood's most beloved couple call it quits.”

The reality of your actions came crashing into you like a Mack Truck. You would never hear his laugh, never be able to hold him, never be able to help VR with her homework again. You would never be able to feel complete. So that was it; what’s done is done. You could do nothing to reverse the damage you brought to Eddie’s life. You just hoped that one day he would have it in his heart to forgive you, to understand why you did what you did… because you are in love with him, and you always will be.

~end~

Read part 2 here

Thank you for taking the time to read 💜 comments, reblogs and likes are always appreciated and encouraged ! 🫶🏻

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[woso-dreamzzz]

Promise

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Magda takes Pernille to dinner

The restaurant is fancier than the restaurants that Momma and Morsa usually take you to.

Evidently, Momma thinks so too because she holds your hand a little tighter and pulls you in front of her.

"Magda," Momma says," Are you sure this is the right place?" She looks down meaningfully at you.

The usual restaurants you go to aren't fancy like this. They're homey places, much more likely to be family-run for years rather than being awarded Michelin stars.

"Yep," Magda says as the host takes them towards a private booth at the back.

You're big enough now that you don't need to sit in a high chair anymore but Magda and Pernille still box you between them in the booth, sitting so you're in the middle and they're facing each other.

"This is expensive, Magda," Pernille warns.

"We can afford it."

"I know but, still."

"It'll be fine," Magda assures her," I promise."

This whole trip was out of the blue.

They had just come home from training when Magda sent Pernille off to the bedroom to change into something fancier than the usual tracksuit bottoms and old shirt she usually wore post training.

There was already something laid out on the bed and, by the time Pernille was finished, you and Magda had also changed. Tomorrow was a day off so it wasn't out of the ordinary for you all to go out the night before but not in fancy clothes and not to this fancy restaurant that looks like a little girl like you shouldn't be in it.

"Is there a kid's menu?" Pernille asks.

You frown. "I want a big girl meal."

Magda laughs, leaning over to kiss the top of your head. "I've ordered ahead for her."

Pernille raises a brow. "How did you even get a reservation for this place?"

"Millie knows a guy."

"You make it sound like she's in the mob."

"She could be."

"What's the mob?" You ask.

"Nothing, princesse," Magda laughs," Here. The nice host lady brought you some paper and crayons."

You grab the crayons quickly, scrawling over the paper with reckless abandon.

"I'm serious, Magda. What's going on?"

"Can't I take my girls out for a special evening?"

"You can," Pernille says, eyes narrowed in suspicion," But at a place like this? You're up to something."

Despite her suspicions, Pernille does end up having a nice time. The food is good, the wine is great. The company is, obviously, even better.

You seem to be having fun too, going through all of the crayons as you draw a picture of the three of you standing under a rainbow together.

The dress you're wearing, now that Pernille inspects it, is a perfect match to her own, right down to how it's styled on your body. Both of them compliment the ensemble that Magda's wearing, Pernille notices as Magda rises from her seat to take you to the bathroom.

You look like a perfect pair.

Pernille can see a lot of Magda in you, all the way down to the way you walk. You've got Magda in your face and your smile and the way you giggle hysterically when Pernille tickles your tummy.

You return after a few minutes without Magda, reaching out for Pernille's hand with the same secret smile on your face that Magda has when she's about to do something surprising.

"Where's your Morsa?" Pernille teases, allowing you to pull her up.

"She's outside," You say," She paid earlier. Come on, Momma!" You pull at her insistently. Clearly, Pernille isn't moving fast enough.

You pull her out of the restaurant and across the road to the play park.

Magda's waiting by the gate and you stop in front of her. You turn to look at Pernille.

You smile at her, the exact same as Magda's smile, before squeezing her as tight as you can.

Magda picks you up and you cover something with your hands.

"What have you two planned?" Pernille teases, her own smile ghosting her lips.

"Pernille," Magda says," I love you."

"I love you too."

"I understand that this moving in together thing is still new-"

"We've been moved in for a year?"

"I have a speech," Magda laughs," Can you let me get through it?"

Pernille laughs too. "Alright. I suppose so."

Magda clears her throat. "As I was saying...I understand that this moving in together thing is still new and I know that there's going to be a few hiccups along the way but I love you and I love Princesse and I love this little family we've made. I know we want a future together. Honestly...I...This came out of nowhere and I know we're still in the height of our careers but..."

She nudges you.

"Please agree to be engaged to be engaged to Morsa!" You say, holding out the little ring you've been hiding in your hands.

It's a fairly simple ring, clearly not a proper engagement ring but it's still beautiful. Pernille takes it from your hands, slipping it onto her finger.

"Yes," She says," I will be engaged to be engaged to your Morsa."

You cheer, a beautiful round of bubbly giggles spilling from your throat as Momma pulls Morsa into a kiss.

Morsa's cheeks are all pink when she pulls away and she's got one of those silly star struck smiles on her face that she gets when Momma is around her.

"Can we get ice cream now?" You ask and they both laugh.

"Yes, Princesse," Morsa says," Let's get ice cream."

#woso x reader #hardersson x reader #pernille harder x reader #pernille harder #magdalena eriksson x reader #magdalena eriksson #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso #The Big Adventures Universe

[dawn-moths]

Turquoise & Temptations

Neuvillette x Female Reader

word count: 2600+

(Being the girl of Fontaine’s Chief Justice has its ups and downs, but one thing is for certain— the time you two spend together in Neuvillette’s office at the end of a long workday, whether he’s filing some last minute paperwork or simply taking a moment of peace and quiet before heading home, always has the opportunity to get interesting…)

disclaimer/content warning: 18+ content! minors dni! smut, semi-public sex (you’re in his office but the door’s not locked), size difference, daddy kink, mention of punishment with no actual punishment, reader is called “sweetheart, princess, good girl, baby”, minimal prep, some aftercare.

*ao3 mirror*

***

You shifted your position sitting in Neuvillette’s lap, straddling him with the skirts of your dress bunched up and your lace-clad core pressed against where his own growing arousal had begun to jut from his pants, trying to be sly in grinding your needy sex harder down against him, as if he’d even have a chance to miss it.

You’ve been like this for a while now— cradled against his chest and nearly dozing off while he finishes up some last minute paperwork at his desk, lashes fluttering with oncoming sleep, lips slightly parted as your breathing began to grow slow and shallow— but it was technically his fault for getting you so worked up in the first place.

He’d started it, after all, causing you to jolt back to consciousness when you felt his cock twitch in his trousers as your weight had settled overtop his lap with just enough pressure to stir something a little less professional in him.

He clicks his tongue at you, but it’s not with annoyance. It’s with that condescending adoration that tends to weave through his tone whenever you get impatient, unable to let him finish his work before distracting him with your body and the fantasy of all the ways he wants to have you.

Because, while he may have been guilty of starting things, you were far more guilty of instigating, hiking your dress up higher to allow you more room to spread your thighs wider over his own, rocking forward and arching your back a bit until you found just the right place to satisfy your own needs.

At least, they’d be satisfied for a little while. You both knew before long you’d grow needy and demand more for him, tearing the Chief Justice from his more official duties and encouraging him to engage in some more personal affairs.

“Daddy’s almost done, sweetheart,” he cooed, one hand wielding a shiny gold fountain pen and scribbling off his tight-scrawled, looping signature on the dotted line while the other rested on the small of your back, keeping you in place, as if you had any intention of trying to leave. “Just be patient for a little while longer and then I’ll—”

His promise was cut off by a strangled whine caught in his throat, not missing the devious way your gloss-shined lips were curving into a defiant little smirk. His stunning gunmetal gaze leveled on you, his next signature left abandoned halfway through on the parchment as he held your stare, testing you now, daring you to keep going before he gave you permission.

If you did, he might just have to punish you, bend you over his desk and fuck you fast and hard till there were tears in those pretty little doe-eyes of yours, forcing you to keep quiet with a big, leather gloved hand clasped over your open mouth, biting back his own moans the best he could until he felt like you’d learned your lesson.

You seemed to foresee this possibility, so you kept still, your throat bobbing with a hard, anticipatory swallow, your pussy throbbing at the thought of it, and waiting for Neuvillette to resume his writing. He cleared his throat and concluded his signature, dotting the i and crossing the double t’s a little more aggressively than he had previously, the quick tap and scritch of the pen’s sharp nib marking the page in ebony ink making you flinch a tiny bit.

You thought he was finally finished when he gathered up the thick stack of papers in both hands and shuffled them on the surface of the marble desk, smoothing them all in perfect order before tying them with a piece of cobalt twine and sealing the documents with a wax stamp of shimmering silver, ready to be picked up and sent off to wherever it was the court transcripts went once he was done with them, but then he seemed to begin with a whole new stack, this one even taller and wordier than the last, so you couldn’t help but huff out a breath of blatant indignance. 

Neuvillette hummed out a low, lilting chuckle, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours as you pressed yourself closer to him, tugging at the lapels of his coat and whimpering in protest. “Don’t worry, princess…” he assured you. “I’m just getting things in order for tomorrow.”

“And how long will that take…?” you muttered under your breath, thinking you might act out and risk the consequences depending on his answer.

But then you felt both of his gloved hands on you, long fingers flexing where they held your hips, sending a momentary confusion through you when he seemed to be pulling you down harder against him rather than shifting you away for your backtalk.

“Tell you what,” he began, his voice, normally so authoritative and commanding in the courtroom, turned honey-sweet and soothing when it came to you, even when you were insisting on being a little bit of a needy brat. “You let me get ahead of tomorrow’s work—” He held up a finger to signal silence as your mouth fell open in premature protest. “You let me get ahead of tomorrow’s work,” he repeated, pausing for a second and raising his eyebrows slightly, challenging you to try and interrupt again, “and I’ll let you have your way until I’m done.”

You cocked your head at him, eyes narrowed and mouth twitching into a crooked frown of pondering, wondering if this was some kind of test or not. Then it was his turn to catch you off guard, rocking his hips up into yours and causing you to emit a stuttering gasp as you felt just how hard his length had become, your eyes fluttering and beginning to roll from the sudden jolt of pleasure, your body surging with the need for more, more more, sheer, unadulterated want racing through your blood like sparks of white-hot electricity.

“Go on…” he smugly directed you, his eyes flicking from your face down to where your two bodies sought each other out and back again. Then, leaning in closer to whisper in your ear, his lips barely brushing the shell of it and causing a gentle shudder to skitter up your spine, he teasingly murmured, “Just be sure not to make too much noise. I’m pretty sure I left the door unlocked and, well…”

And, well, if anyone heard your high-pitched moans muffled from the other side of the double doors, they might creep up closer to investigate, maybe even dare to enter after giving the customary knock of courtesy and find you in a state you’d be mortified for anyone besides Neuvillette to see you in.

“I’ll be quiet,” you muttered back, unable to hide the excitement that was flooding your chest more and more by the second, your eager little fingers fumbling with his belt buckle, the gentle clink of the silver against your freshly manicured nails— this week a shade of pale turquoise— echoing quietly throughout the spacious office room until finally you were able to tug the leather strap free so it could dangle from the sides of the loops in his pristinely pressed trousers.

Pristine, of course, except for the damp spot left on his crotch, both of your intermingled arousal staining through to ruin his expensive work attire.

That was alright with Neuvillette though. Whether it was his clothes or your own that got ruined during these acts, he could always just buy more. To him, a constantly updated wardrobe was a small price to pay for how good it felt when he was inside you, suddenly wishing he’d decided to leave early that day so you two could finish this in your shared master bedroom of his estate, no need to keep quiet in the slightest as he forced melodic mewls and euphoric moans from your pretty little mouth, drinking them in, drowning in them, completely addicted.

“That’s a good girl,” he praised you, pressing a chaste, tender peck to your temple before continuing on with his work.

Once you’d pulled his cock free of its constraints, Neuvillette had to remind himself to keep his own sounds of pleasure quiet as well, gulping down the groan he already felt rising in his chest as you ran your soft little hands up and down the length of him, appearing entranced as you admired the blushing pink tip, pearly pre-cum already drooling out onto your palms, every vein and ridge of his velvety member practically committed to your memory, and making your dripping little hole flutter in anticipation.

Neuvillette gripped the gold fountain pen in his hand a little tighter, his stomach muscles flinching as you guided his cock between your soaked folds, the lace of your drenched panties giving just enough friction to make him crazy, melting his sharp mind into something dull and hazy with the slow dripping pleasure, his breath beginning to come out in short, panting huffs rather than the sure, steady, and stoic way he usually carried himself.

“God—” he exhaled, strangled and struggling to keep his composure. You grinded yourself down harder against him, your own angelic sighs of satisfaction fanning over the bit of exposed skin on his neck and making his cock pulse in your grip. Then he couldn’t take it anymore, reaching down to hook his thumbs into the thin, delicate waistband of your lace panties and tearing them off with one harsh, hungry tug.

And he always said you were the one who was too impatient.

“I can’t focus with you around,” he was practically growling, stealing his cock away from your clumsy little hands and guiding it by the base until he felt the tip catch on your tight little hole, tugging another sharp gasp from your throat, using the other hand to nudge you forward to sink further down onto his cock.

You bit your tongue as you felt a moan clawing its way up your chest, knowing he’d been serious when he’d told you to keep quiet— for both his sake and yours— but you couldn’t hold it in. Burying your face in his shoulder, you cried out as he forced himself the rest of the way in with one quick, stinging thrust, splitting you in two and causing fat, sparkling tears to well in your blurring vision from the sudden, burning stretch of him nestled so deep inside of you.

You felt his body relax a fraction then, shedding some of that animalistic desire and allowing him to return to the safety of the sweet, soft-spoken Daddy that you knew him to be, running a hand up and down you back in slow, soothing motions as he muttered out little apologies like, “Sorry for being so rough with you, sweetheart,” and “Daddy just couldn’t take it anymore. But don’t worry. I’m going to make it all up to you now,” until you raised your head from its hiding place in his shoulder and let him pepper loving little kisses to your neck, his mouth trailing down to the plush, flushed flesh of your exposed cleavage and sucking a little there, giving you some time to adjust to the feeling of being so painfully full of him.

“Please…” you exhaled, voice cracked and broken with another whine of pleasure as the aching in your core twisted even tighter, a cord about to snap. “Please, Daddy… I need you. Please…”

And Neuvillette didn’t wait a second longer to start rolling his hips up into you again, slow and steady at first, tugging one of his gloves free with his teeth and tossing it to land on his desk so he could feel every part of you, running the rough pad of his thumb over your pulsing, swollen clit and clenching his jaw as he winced, feeling your insides squeeze around him in that painfully sweet way you both loved so much.

“That’s it…” he encouraged, rocking up into you a little harder then as the pressure of his circles increased, knowing neither of you had much longer to go now, his voice laced with something raspy and borderline feral. “Good girl… Just like that— Archons, baby—”

You were biting the fabric of Neuvillette’s coat between your teeth, doing your best to ride him in tandem with his skillful ministrations until you were seizing up and coming undone for the first time that evening, your legs trembling and your muscles constricted as more of your glistening slick dripped down in thick, dewy strands to stain the inside of your thighs and his trousers, his cock pulsing where it was still buried deep inside your tender cunt.

He was filling you to the brim mere seconds later, the familiar flood of his viscous, sticky warmth filling your tummy and soothing you from the inside out. As you slumped in his arms, Neuvillette held you close, running the fingers of his untarnished, gloved hand through your hair and whispering sweet nothings into your ear, tracing little patterns into the soft skin between your shoulder blades where there was a diamond cutout in your dress’s back as he helped you through the comedown.

Once he’d gone completely soft inside of you, he placed both hands under your thighs and carefully lifted you from his lap and onto the top of his desk, pushing the papers that still littered it to the far end before instructing you to lay back so he could clean you up. At least, to the best of his ability given all he really had on hand at the moment was a handkerchief. 

You flinched as the cool marble of the desktop met the backs of your bare arms, exhaling a shuddering breath through your nose as the cold air of the room kissed your exposed, soaked pussy, sending yet another chill through you.

“I know, baby…” Neuvillette cooed, giving the crisp, satiny handkerchief in his hand a quick whip so it could unfurl, starting his tender, meticulous work in caring for his favorite girl after she was so spent. “I’ll draw you a nice, warm bath once we get home, so just bare it a little longer, alright?”

As he wiped as much slick from between your legs as he could, attempting to attend to himself afterward but giving up halfway, just thankful the length of his coat would cover any lingering evidence, you felt like you could drift off to sleep again, eyelids growing heavy as the surface of the desk gradually warmed beneath you from your radiating body heat.

But you couldn’t sleep here. Not now. Because not five seconds after Neuvillette had helped you off the desk and back on your own two wobbly, tired legs, straightening out your skirts and smoothing down the front of his closed coat, there was the tell-tale knocking of one of the courthouse’s interns at the office door.

You gave your Daddy a look of concern and alarm, unsure of how much evidence of what you two had done was left in the open, but Neuvillete just flashed you a cocky grin and called out for them to enter, quietly telling you to take a seat in the big, plush armchair behind his desk as he grabbed up the papers and hurried to meet the intern halfway to hand them off, engaging in a short, pleasant conversation before sending them on their way and hopefully none the wiser.

“Alright, princess,” he beckoned you, reapproaching to offer you a hand as you stood from the chair. “Let’s go home.”

Just before allowing you to lock your arm with his like you usually did, Neuvillette knelt down and picked up a piece of shredded, icy blue lace fabric— the remnants of one of your favorite pair of panties, destroyed with his impatiently eager hands— and shoved it into his pocket.

He’d owe you new ones, plus interest, for having torn them up without any warning, but you didn’t necessarily mind.

You just hoped the next time you two did something like this in his office during work hours, he remembered to lock the door.

***

(Anyone else also sort of obsessing over some of the new Fontaine guys, or just me lol

I definitely see myself writing more for Neuvillette in the future, especially as we learn more about him.

Anyway, like always, thank you so much for reading. Have a wonderful day! <3)

#neuvillette #neuvillette genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x y/n #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #genshin impact fanfics #genshin x reader #genshin x you #genshin x y/n #genshin neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette smut #genshin fanfic #genshin impact fanfiction

[azsazz]

Midnight Muse (Part 21)

Azriel x Reader [Art School AU]

Summary: You and your best friend Feyre have just moved into a new apartment for your sophomore year of college at art school. What you didn't know when you signed the lease is that you'd be living next to three rowdy boys.

Warnings: N/A

Word Count: 3,850

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7] [Part 8] [Part 9] [Part 10] [Part 11] [Part 12] [Part 13] [Part 14] [Part 15] [Part 16] [Part 17] [Part 18] [Part 19] [Part 20] [Masterlist]

_________________________________________

You haven’t spoken to Azriel since the morning you woke up in his bed alone.

Which, granted, has only been one day.  

You’d spent the rest of your Sunday confused, rerunning the previous night over and over and over again until your head hurt with it. You thought that you and Azriel had started anew, if the passionate sex you’d shared the night before was anything to go by. But when you woke, the sheets beside you hadn’t even been warm and the note he’d left you seemed scrawled in haste, like he’d barely had the courtesy to do so on his way out the door.

Something important came up, I’m sorry. I’ll explain later. Please don’t be mad, princess. I’m coming back to you. —Az

He’d left his number but you’d left the comfort of his bed, slipping back into your dress and collecting your things before doing the ultimate walk of shame next door. Really, it’s much worse than the last time you’d snuck out of his apartment. You’d been hungover then, caring mostly about not throwing up in the hall or waking Azriel, but by the silence of the apartment as you made your way out, there was no need for you to be quiet.

It left you only with the aching between your thighs and the mottled bruises painting your skin purple.

That night was better than a dream. You would’ve never thought that you and Azriel could work past the lingering feud you’d started the year with, and you hadn’t realized how draining your constant grudge had been. It turns out that getting over yourself and under him had been the best thing that could’ve happened for your relationship.

His touch burns your skin long after you’ve showered him off. You can still feel him between your legs, fingers dug into the meat of your thighs as he held you still for his taking. The feeling of his lips, his tongue brushing yours, everything that he’d done to you last night, clinging to your very being as if he’d tattooed himself across every inch of your skin.

Maybe you should’ve listened to his note. You could have easily stayed in his bed all day, with how comfortable it is, but as the minutes trickled by, the paranoia set in, eating at you until you’d had to flee.

Feyre hadn’t asked any questions when you slipped into her room after your shower. She’d welcomed you with open arms, a sad look in her eyes as if she knew exactly what happened. And maybe she did; maybe she heard you like you heard her, but you hadn’t cared, only snuggled up to your best friend's side as she put a movie on her laptop for the both of you to watch.

She knew you would tell her in good time.

It hadn’t stopped Azriel from blowing up your phone. He must’ve stolen your number from Rhsyand or Cassian, or perhaps he even told them what happened because message after message after message lit up your notifications, pleading for you to answer your phone like an incessant alarm.

Princess…it’s Az. Where did you go?

Do you want some waffles? There might still be some ice cream left before Cassian finishes it all, but with the spoon he’s found, it won’t last long.

Can I please explain? 

And finally: 

I can hear your phone buzzing through the wall. Please answer me.

You hadn’t replied to those, nor any of the ones that followed. You half expected him to come knocking at your door, but Feyre had noticed your poor mood and told Rhys that the two of you were having a girl’s day and not to bother either of you.

You could’ve both kissed and been upset with her for that.

You wanted that explanation from Azriel, but you also wanted him to fight for it. Let him come knocking, let him ask you in person to explain. Who finally gets the girl and leaves her to wake up alone? Especially after all of the things Azriel had admitted to you…

Monday morning is much the same. You’d successfully avoided seeing Azriel on your way to campus, and as much as you tried focusing on your drawing course, none of the shapes you were drawing turned into anything great.

You’d expected it to be bliss, to get your mind off of every little nitpicky thing you keep thinking about from that night. Feyre and Lucien’s presence helped some, but when the class quieted  down for a drawing exercise and you were left alone with your thoughts once again, they naturally drifted back to yesterday morning. Maybe you had misread Azriel’s intentions and he was only looking for a one night stand. You did make the first move, afterall. 

It was all a jumbled mess in your head that could only make sense if Azriel explained it. And now you’re once again thinking that you should have stayed…or at least texted him back.

“You okay, (Y/N)?” Lucien asks, startling you from your thoughts. The tip of your charcoal cracks against your drawing pad and you frown, staring at the black chalky marks on your fingers. You frown, shoving the immediate thought of Azriel from your head and tilt your head up to meet Lucien’s concerned gaze.

You offer him a forced smile. “Yeah, sorry, I was zoning out a bit. I’m fine.” You hadn’t realized that class ended and everyone is packing up their things. Feyre’s over by the drawers, stowing her pad in the one you share. Lucien doesn’t look like he believes you, but he stays silent while you hastily pack your supplies away, grimacing at the drawing you’d been working on. 

You don’t check your phone. You’d already woken up to multiple messages from Azriel this morning, asking to walk you to class and explain. Luckily, you hadn’t run into him on your way out the door, tearing down the staircase with a confused Feyre trying to keep up.

Lucien and Feyre are talking about where you should all head to lunch when the three of you leave the building. Alis had announced another assignment, and the premise already hangs heavy on your shoulders. The instructions were left loose enough that you have once again no idea what you’re going to draw for it. It’s infuriating, how everyone else just seems to know immediately what they’re wanting to create when it takes you weeks to figure it out, and then when you do, you’re changing your mind again and again, worried that nothing is good enough.

You run smack into Lucien’s back while you’re lost in your thoughts. Your friends are three steps out the door and your nose stings from where you’d hit it against your friend. Lucien hardly even seems to notice, his mouth set in a straight line and he and Feyre stare directly ahead. 

At Azriel, who’s leaning up against the railing. He looks so nervous it’s almost as if he doesn’t even go to this school; doesn’t walk into the same buildings or around the same campus. His thumb is tucked into the strap of his backpack slung over his shoulder, and the other is stuffed into the pocket of his leather jacket. His black hair is tousled but not from the wind, from the amount of times he’s nervously run his fingers through it.

You watch his golden eyes flick over Feyre and Lucien, darkening as they rove over your copper haired friend while you step out from behind him. He instantly finds your gaze and they soften, and then he’s pushing off from the railing and making his way towards you. Your face heats because this is the last place you thought Azriel would corner you. In public.

“Hey, Azriel,” Feyre greets, glancing over at you. You shake your head softly but keep your gaze pinned to Azriel who strides closer like he no longer has a care in the world. It’s a front and you know it.

Azriel nods politely, but he doesn’t break your stare. “(Y/N), can we talk for a minute?”

You feel Feyre’s confused blue eyes burning into your skin. The way that she slides her phone from her pocket like she’s trying not to make any sudden movements is not missed by you nor Azriel, but neither of you seem to care that she’s seconds away from messaging Rhys about this. You wonder if he knows, if Azriel had admitted anything to his roommates about you, about the night you shared together. 

Lucien is tense, shoulders coiled tight. He’s almost glaring at Azriel but it doesn’t faze the onyx haired boy in the least, like he’s a speck of dust on his shoulder. Nothing can deter Azriel, of this you know. Somehow, he’s just as stubborn as you are, and the soft look in his eyes, pleading with you, makes your stomach twist.

“Sure,” you find yourself agreeing. You turn to your friend so you don’t have to witness the relief on his face. “I’ll catch up with you guys later. And I’ll see you in Art History, Fey.”

“You better,” your best friend mutters, already tapping away at her phone. She drags Lucien by the sleeve because he doesn’t seem inclined to leave you alone with Azriel despite you agreeing to speak with him. Azriel looks like he’s going to bare his teeth at the boy. “Come on, Luc.”

You start down the stairs of the building, going the opposite direction from your friends. You can feel Lucein’s sun and moon eyes on you as you walk, but you don’t turn around to look. 

Azriel catches up to you in two great strides. You don’t know where you’re going, fine with waltzing around campus while you talk. You might need to text Feyre to bring you something to eat during class, because you’re getting hungry for lunch.

“I don’t like him,” Azriel mutters, and you can tell by the tight grip he has on the straps of his backpack.

“I don’t think you like anyone,” you respond, not unkindly, but it’s not a friendly remark either. It’s strange almost, to be seen with him in public not only after your public feud, but the night you’d spent together as well. It feels like a dirty little secret has come to light, and you don’t like it.

Azriel glances at you sidelong, but you refuse to meet his gaze. “I like you.”

You snort because he doesn’t even know you, not really. “You didn’t even like me two days ago, Azriel,” you start but he’s already shaking his head in disagreement, denying your accusations. “And with the way you up and left me in your room, I’m thinking there’s still a possibility that you don’t even like me now.”

He stops you with a gentle hand on your elbow, turning you to face him. You stumble at the suddenness of the move and it puts you a step closer to him than you’d like. His grip on your arm isn’t firm or demanding, it’s a soft caress that matches the pleading look in his honeyed eyes.

“Please,” he murmurs, and you can see just how much your avoidance has been bothering him. His fingers tremble along your arms and when you look down at them he pulls away, nervously tucking them into the pocket of his hoodie. It makes something in your chest crack a little. “I can explain.”

“Explain, then,” you answer simply.

Azriel shifts on his feet, glancing around. There are students milling about and you should probably keep walking or at least move out of the way, lest the both of you get mowed down by someone late to class or a biker. “Here?” 

You quirk a brow.

He sighs a little, exasperated. “Can I take you somewhere? How about lunch?” 

You study him. It’s clear that he wants to explain to you, and he looks just as stressed out about the situation as you are. And you really do want to hear what he has to say for himself, if his reason for leaving you is forgivable…

“Fine,” you relent, and his shoulders drop a notch. “But I have class this afternoon and I can’t be late.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Rita’s is the kind of place that you walk past and don’t go in. 

The outside is a smidge better than decrepit, with its peeling paint and uneven sidewalk. There’s graffiti on the side of the building, tags you can hardly ready with how curvy and obnoxious the letters look. One of the windows has a shade, but it’s hanging by a thread and looks more like a hazard than not, and the rest of the windows are bare, sunlight pouring into the yellowing casement. You wouldn’t even know the place is open with its rusted neon sign so broken and sad. 

But Azriel guides you in through the door with a hand on the small of your back and you blame the shiver that travels up your spine on the blast of cold air that hits you in the face when you step over the threshold.

Maybe you’ve been a little harsh on its exterior appearance because the inside is tidy. The air smells like greasy burgers and crunchy fries, and there’s a shiny jukebox in the corner playing an oldies song you think you’ve heard at one of Cassian’s parties once. Well, you heard it through the wall when the entirety of said party belted it at the top of their lungs and not even your headphones could block out the noise.

There’s an older man sitting at the counter and a girl who looks to be about your age behind the counter. She’s smacking her gum and doodling on her order pad, a half abandoned milkshake melting in the red cup beside her. She doesn’t even look up when Azriel leads you towards a booth, and you slide in opposite him with furrowed brows.

“What’s wrong?” He asks you, nervousness flicking through his eyes. He hesitates to sit down, awaiting your response.

“Nothing,” you assure him with a soft smile you don’t feel is genuine. “I didn’t even know this place was here, really.”

Azriel all but slumps onto the electric blue seat, eyes sparkling with delight. Your heart rate picks up at the sight of the little grin he offers you. It’s nice to see this side of him, happy and relaxed, in his element. 

You wonder how he looks when he’s concentrated on a drawing, or a tattoo.

He’s got them covered up with his leather jacket today, though the tips of those coiling shadows around his collar bones peek out from the neckline of his black t-shirt and you think about how much you were coiled around each other the other night, skin to skin.

Your cheeks heat with the memory, and you look down at your lap.

“It’s great,” Azriel explains, slipping out of his jacket. You wish you had paid more attention to the artwork marking his skin the night you spent together but there hadn’t been much time to with the way you were all over each other, and he wasn’t around when you woke up. “Been coming here since freshman year.” 

You’re about to respond when the waitress you’d seen arrives, slapping two menu’s down on the funky patterned table. You startle with the motion and shift uncomfortably when Azriel all but glares at the girl. She doesn’t seem to care though, flipping her stark white hair over her shoulder with a sneer.

Her brown eyes flit over you like you’re a piece of her chewed gum stuck under the table, then leans her hip against the edge of the table, flipping her order pad open. “I already know what you want,” he says haughtily to Azriel, and then those piercing brown eyes are on you, pinning you to your seat like it’s a trap from Saw. “What will you be having?” 

“I, um, I’m not sure yet,” you stutter awkwardly, because you’re confused. Who is this and why is Azriel acting like this is normal? “I need to look at the menu.” 

She rolls her eyes and the silence that ensues makes your face grow hot, sweat bead at your hairline. She crosses her arms over her chest, popping a bubble with her gum, and it’s as if she’s waiting for you to look at the menu and decide right now. You send a pleading look to Azriel whose jaw is ticking with annoyance.

“Give us a minute, will you, Cresseida? And let Rita know I’m here. Thanks.” 

With another eye roll and an annoyed “Whatever,” Cresseida all but stomps away from your table. Your eyes trail her until she’s around the counter and pushing through the swinging doors to the kitchen.

“She seems…lovely,” you mutter, fingering the corner of the menu where it’s bent. “Seems like the kind of place you would’ve taken me when we didn’t like each other,” you tack on, squinting at the small font. Why are there so many items on the menu?

“I’m sorry about her,” Azriel blurts, and you think this is the first time you’ve ever seen him blush. It’s unfairly adorable. He offers you a hand, face up, and you can’t resist that look in his eyes, how he’s offering you his scarred hand instead of hiding it. With a short huff, you place your palm on his and he immediately intertwines your fingers, holding tight. It makes you blush. “She’s always been cranky,” he peers over his shoulder like she might be standing right behind him. “I promise, Rita is much nicer.”

You give him a forced smile because honestly, you’re not sure what else to say to that. You’re not even sure you’re all that hungry anymore, with Cresseida’s off putting attitude and the nerves that are gnawing on your stomach from the talk you’re about to have with Azriel.

You busy yourself with looking at the menu. There are way too many options and not enough time to decide because a short, stocky woman is trapezing her way around the countertop and towards your table, her eyes glowing with joy.

“Azriel, what brings you back so soon? Oh—and who is this lovely lady?” Her eyes fall across your intertwined fingers and she fails to stifle the beaming grin that appears on her red lips. You can tell that she’s a gem by appearance alone, but also in the way that she looks at Azriel, like he’s the son she’s never had. You can’t help but to smile at her. Her round face is flush with a permanent blush and she looks like the kind of woman you’d love to hug.

“Rita, this is (Y/N). (Y/N), this is Rita, the owner of Rita’s Diner.”

“Very nice to meet you,” you greet eagerly, trying to pull your hand away from Azriel’s to shake her hand. He doesn’t let go, and smirks at the glare you shoot his way.

“(Y/N) as in…” Rita trails off, flicking a glance at Azriel. You narrow your eyes at him, curious as to what he’s told her about you. She continues, “As in your girlfriend, Azriel?”

You almost splutter, cheeks going red hot at her insinuation.

Azriel doesn’t seem fazed in the slightest, admiring the color to your cheeks and the shock in your eyes. “Not yet.”

Not yet. 

But maybe soon, when he finally explains himself.

Rita winks at him and you really want to bury your face in the menu right now.

“What can I get for you, darlin’?” Rita asks, her voice sweet as cherry pie.

“I don’t know, there are so many options…” you trail off, sending a pleading look towards Azriel. “Almost too many to choose from.”

Rita’s chest swells with pride and Azriel snickers.

“Cass prefers the pancakes,” he supplies, “But I think the waffles are better.”

“Pancakes, it is,” you beam, handing Rita back the menu. Azriel glares playfully and Rita seems positively overjoyed as she makes her way back to the kitchen.

Your smiles fade with Rita’s cheerful attitude and it’s all too soon that you’re aware you’re holding Azriel’s hand and he still hasn’t explained. You look at him and he’s already sighing. There are dark circles under his eyes that you hadn’t noticed before, and you can tell that he hadn’t slept well last night either.

Azriel strokes a thumb across your knuckles and your tense shoulders ease a bit. The embarrassment you’d felt when you woken up alone in his bed has simmered with his eagerness to explain to you what happened that morning, but you’re still feeling a bit tender about it, especially when you see the pained look on Azriel’s face.

Whatever had happened hadn’t been good.

And you feel like a fool when he answers your question lingering between the both of you. 

“The reason I wasn’t there that morning was because my father was in town. He came to see me.” 

You try to swallow back the sudden rage boiling up from your stomach. The man who’d let his step-sons burn Azriel’s hands. The one who doesn’t want him to follow his dreams, his passions, when he clearly has the skill to do something amazing with them. The one who didn’t even visit him that night of the incident.

You squeeze his hand and Azriel seems to relax, understanding your forgiveness. Your throat is still tight when you respond, forcing the word out. “Okay…”

It gives him room to continue, even though Azriel looks like he’d rather face Cresseida’s wrath again.

“He found interest in purchasing and renovating our apartment building.” 

You blink, not sure you’ve heard him correctly. “What?” You tack on, defensively. “Why?”

Azriel shrugs. To keep me in fucking check. He sighs as if the tremendous weight on his shoulders is two seconds away from crushing him completely. You don’t like that frown on his face and you don’t like his father.

“He thinks it’s a good investment opportunity, I guess.”

You don’t like the sound of this one bit, and Azriel agrees with you.

“And if he does buy it?”

Azriel shakes his head sadly, “No more neighbors.” 

You didn’t think the thought of not being his next door neighbor would hit you so hard. Your chest aches with the idea of it, no longer sharing a wall. Even though you despised it at the beginning, you’ve gotten used to and even like the fact that you share a wall now.

Rita comes back and sets a plate of hot pancakes in front of you and a stack of blueberry waffles in front of Azriel. Everything smells delicious and your mouth waters at the sight of the thick pat of butter melting its way across the top of your breakfast.

She places a milkshake between you and Azriel, and there’s no missing the two neon colored straws sticking out of the top. You blush, thanking her.

She winks in response. “Enjoy, you two.”

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

MM Taglist Part 1: @justvibbinghere @nickishadow139 @going-through-shit @honeycriess @natashachelsea @thisisew @kennedy-brooke @cat-or-kitten @sourapplex @magical-mischief-makers @reiincarnatiion @ccucumbers @secret-ly-here @throneofsmut @cami26cami @torchbearerkyle @a-frog-with-a-laptop @sevikas-whore @endless-worldss @vellichor01 @bangtans-jagiya @kalulakunundrum @pinksmellslikelove @sakurafrost3-blog @imxnotxhere @bookishbroadwaybish @justdreamstars @i-am-infinite @whichwitchisthebitch @i-am-a-lost-girl16 @sia-r @ssmay123 @blackthrongirl @haivenhoule @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @bloodicka @wilmalovegood @jw83 @acourtofbatboydreams @hannzoaks @judig92 @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @ilikefictionalmen @harrystylesfan2686 @dr4g0ngirl

#acotar #midnight muse #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #tattoo artist!azriel #art school au #artist!azriel

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — KATSUKI BAKUGOU. pre-k teacher!au.

about. some random headcanons of bakugou being a pre school teacher bc i think that he’s great with kids and would try so hard not to fall in love with his student’s mom.

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact. sfw, bakugou is soft for kids, reader is a single mother, fem!reader, pre school teacher!bakugou.

personally, i think bakugou would make a great pre-school teacher.

imagine a quirkless universe where bakugou decides to work with kids because he knows that in a world where everyone turns against one another — kids are the only ones who have never done wrong. as a pre school teacher, he tries to be the person he wished he had protecting him.

the class pre-k teacher!bakugou gets assigned are known to be ‘his kids’. they have their own system, in which bakugou claps once and they all scramble to sit on the carpet for story time or know to stack their handwriting books up neatly at the end of their tables. the kids like that their teacher is strong and able to pick three of them up at once, they order that he plays heroes with them or sometimes dresses up like a princess from the story book before nap time.

pre-k teacher!bakugou's class is the most well behaved, the little ones always snuggle up to him quietly when it’s time to sleep and listen well before they’re let out into the playground for time out doors. it’s almost like he gentle parents them too — your kid in katsuki’s class is particularly sensitive at times, but the blonde always gives her a little time to cry out her feelings in the reflection corner because kids will always figure their shit out even if they can’t articulate it properly.

“what’s wrong, sweetheart? can ya try ‘n tell me what’s up?”

pre-k teacher!bakugou who gets along well with the parents but doesn’t dare to cross the boundaries of professionalism… except for when it comes to you. the flustered young mum who’s trying to get her life together with an extremely shy and stubborn daughter that takes bakugou months to crack. he bribes her with special books at reading time, the first pick of pillows and blankies for naps and even helps her tie her shoes when he’s not supposed to.

but only because of the way your eyes light up at your daughter’s progress a few months later and the way you cling to pre-k teacher!bakugou's arm (whilst trying not to cry) when he tells you that your daughter is finally setting in with friends.

he absolutely cannot have a crush on you, however.

pre-k teacher!bakugou makes homemade snacks for his class that meets every dietary and allegory requirement of every kid he has — more often than not it’s fruit and veg, he tells his kids that they get superpowers from eating healthy. but sometimes he indulges them with gluten free brownies or muffins, sending extra home for the parents too.

pre-k teacher!bakugou puts his funny reading glasses on whenever a student of his makes him a piece of art. they always giggle. no matter what’s been made, the creations from his kids always go up on the ‘bk class wall of fame’ — he feels sentimental over each blob drawn onto colour paper with sprinkles of glue, pasta, buttons and glitter. they mean so much to him, he can’t help but adore the gifts he’s given.

pre-k teacher!bakugou who tries not to cry when his class move up a grade. he promised himself not to be like this, but the kids are squeezing and hugging him, showering him in end of year gifts as a thank you for being the best teacher ever. bakugou isn’t very good at hiding how much he’ll miss his kids — especially your little girl who he’s so used to having by his side until you pick her up everyday.

but when pre-k teacher!bakugou starts clearing out his classroom for a year, he finds a card from his favourite student (your daughter) and inside is your number scrawled quickly in the top right corner.

‘been waiting for this all year. call me, now that you’re not her teacher - xxx’

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou fluff #bakugou imagines #bakugo x reader #bakugo fluff #bakugo x you #bakugou drabble #bnha x reader #bnha fluff #bnha imagines #katsuki bakugou x reader #my hero academia x reader #mha x reader #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki

[kusuguricafe]

Seek and Destroy - Squealing Santa 2K23

A/N: surpriiiiise @chibisstuff!! I'm your squealing santa this year! I hope you love your gift <3 happy holidays! 🎁

Characters: lee!Deku, lee!Kaminari, ler!Bakugou

Chapter 1 - Tough Spot

Summary: Bakugou's ler mood has gotten out of control and Deku happens to be pass by at just the right wrong moment.

Katsuki had an itch. An itch to destroy. He’d been pacing back and forth trying to come up with a way to rid himself of his desires, but he was out of luck. There’s really no other way to satiate the desire to tickle someone into oblivion without actually tickling someone into oblivion.

The next poor soul to pass by was in for a wrecking of a lifetime. And lo and behold, a certain green-haired, freckled boy happened to enter the common room at just the wrong moment.

Perfect, Katsuki thought. “Oi, nerd.”

“Oh! Hi, Kacchan! What is it?”

“Come with me. I want to show you something.”

“Okay!”

Katsuki led Izuku to his dorm room. Kacchan never lets anyone into his room, except for Kirishima on occasion, Izuku thought. He must be serious.

Katsuki opened the door and said, “Wait on the bed for a sec.”

Izuku nodded and hopped up onto Katsuki’s bed. He waited patiently while Katsuki rummaged around in his closet for something. He pulled out a red tie.

Izuku cocked his head in confusion. “...A tie? I didn’t know you even owned one of those.”

“Watch it, nerd. Just hold still, will ya?”

“O-okay.”

Katsuki walked over to the bed, grabbing Izuku’s wrists and tying them to the headboard.

“Um, Kacchan? What are you doing?”

“Do I have to grab a second one to shut your damn trap? Stop asking questions.”

“N-no! Sorry!”

After Katsuki finished tying off a secure knot, he furrowed his brow and placed his head in his hand. He sighed. “So, I lied, but I know you’re not going to hate this, so you really don’t have anything to be mad about.”

Izuku started to shake nervously as Katsuki climbed up on top of him. “I know you can free yourself if you really can’t take it anymore, so… just do that if you need, alright?”

“I-I still don’t know what you’re talking abahahAHA! W-wahahahahait!”

“No can do.”

“Whyhyhyhyhy!?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just… just try to enjoy it. I know you like this anyways.”

Katsuki could feel a fire light inside of him as soon as got a taste of that delicious laughter. He hated how much he liked doing this, but he knew he’d never get this urge to go away unless he acted on it. Besides, out of all the possible victims, he knew this one wouldn’t mind.

“Ehehe pfftahahahaha! S-stahahahahahap!”

“Oh come on, you can take it.”

Katsuki dug into Izuku’s ribcage, sporadically traveling up into his underarms. Izuku wiggled back and forth beneath Katsuki, but he really couldn’t move much with his arms restrained and his legs trapped. As Katsuki fully succumbed to his desires, his focused, mildly disgruntled expression slowly turned into an enraptured leer.

“aaAAAAHAHA NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! K-KACCHAHAHAHAHAHAN! NAHAHAHAHAHAT THEHEHEHERE! PLEHEHEHEASE!” Izuku screamed as Katsuki dug into his hips.

God, his laughter was intoxicating.

“AIIEEEHEHEYAHAHAHAHAHA IHIHI- *snort* I CAHAHAHA- *hic* KAHACCHAHAHAA!!”

Katsuki reluctantly stopped for a moment when Izuku’s laughter went silent. Izuku panted, dazed, buzzing with a leftover tingly feeling.

“Wh-why,” he started, “Why are you doing this?”

“I-” Katsuki paused. “You wouldn’t get it.”

“Are you sure?” Izuku questioned, gazing up at him with those big, green doe eyes.

Katsuki hesitated a second too long. The slightest hint of a rosy hue spread across his cheeks as he said, “I just… I get these urges sometimes. I don’t know where they come from or why they happen, but it makes me want to… Argh! It makes me wanna tickle someone so badly.”

Izuku’s eyes widened.

“And I can’t get rid of it! I can’t get rid of it until I, y’know, actually do it. You happened to be walking by right as it was getting to a point where I just couldn’t stand it anymore, so I…”

“I get it.”

“You- You do?”

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Well… Good. Now don’t go blabbing about it to anyone, alright?”

“I wouldn’t dare.”

“Good.”

…

“So, a-are you done, or…?”

Katsuki looked away. His palm crackled like a firecracker as his face turned a shade redder. Finally, he closed his fist and asked, “Can you take a bit more?”

Izuku took a deep breath.

“Go for it.”

Chapter 2 - Heady Pursuit

Summary: Denki overhears what happened yesterday and gets extremely jealous. So, what else is there to do than to provoke Bakugou until he gets what he wants?

What on earth is all that noise about? Denki thought. Bored, he decided to investigate. He took the elevator from the third to the fourth floor, where he thought he heard the ruckus coming from.

“Of course it’s Bakugou,” he said to himself as he walked closer to the blonde’s dorm.

“EEEYAHAHA! NOOHOHOHOooaAAHHAHAHAHA! NOT THE FEHEHEET!! PLEASE KACCHAAAAHAHAHAHAAHA!!”

…Feet? Is that Deku?

“IHIHIHIHI CAHAHAHAN’T TAHAHAHAHAKE IT!!” Denki heard Izuku scream.

“You said you could take it, now take it!” came Katsuki’s reply.

“IHIHIT TIHIHIHIHIHICKLES!!!”

“No shit it tickles, dumbass!”

Denki’s face went beet red. So that’s what they were doing. He should have guessed—Mr. Smiley can’t even make Deku laugh that loud. Denki could feel static building up in his hair. He shook it off and marched back towards the elevator.

Nothing was working. Denki had been dropping hints all day, making playful remarks, stretching in front of Katsuki so that his midriff was showing, even laying in his lap (and promptly getting told to “fuck off”). But he had to keep trying.

“Oiiiii Kacchan!”

“The hell d’you want?”

“Want? I don’t want anything, I’m just saying hello!”

“Yeah, sure.”

Crap! Was he really that obvious?

“A-anyway,” Denki continued, “Kirishima and I are going to the gym later, if you want to join?”

“Nah, already went.”

“Oh, okay! In that case, would you mind helping me with this new move I’ve been working on? I need someone to practice it with, and-”

“Do it with Kirishima.”

“But it’s up in the air! Kirishima can only help me practice stuff on the ground! It’s called the uh, something or other volt maneuver!”

“You’re insane.”

“Oh c’mon, pleeeaaase?”

“No.”

“Pleeeeaaaase?”

“No.”

“At least let me show you! I get a running start like this,” Denki explained, running in place, “Jump up real high, do a couple flips and then come crashing down with my arms out, like this!”

As Denki whipped out his arms and pointed his finger guns towards Katsuki, he “accidentally” let out a small bolt of electricity (only about as strong as the electrostatic shocks you get on a particularly dry day), zapping him in the arm.

“...Oops.”

“DUNCE FACE—”

“AAAHHHHH!” Denki shrieked and bolted.

Katsuki was hot on his tail, and Denki could feel his heart beating a mile a minute as he scrambled around the common room, knowing that he could only evade the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight for so long.

“COME HERE, YOU BASTARD!”

“NOOO!”

“I’M GONNA KILL YOU!!”

Denki decided his best bet was to make a run for the front door.

“ONLY IF YOU CATCH-WaAHH!” Denki yelped as Katsuki swiftly tackled him into the grass.

Katsuki had him pinned. “What do you have to say for yourself, haah?”

“Uhm…”

“Nothing?”

Denki pursed his lips and shook his head.

Katsuki sighed. “You know what? I’m feeling nice today. I’m gonna let you off the hook.”

“What? Why!?”

“...Why do you sound so upset by that?”

“I-I’m not upset, haha, y-yay!” Denki stuttered, sweating nervously.

“Seriously, what has gotten into you? You’ve been acting weird all day.”

“Oh, h-have I? I hadn’t noticed…”

The two stared at each other for a moment.

“S-so are you gonna let me go?”

“Not until you tell me what’s up.”

“N-nothing’s up! Nothing at all!”

“Not gonna fess up? Good thing I know how to make losers like you talk.”

Denki saw an unmistakable glint in Katsuki’s eye. He shivered.

“W-wait, BakugAAHAHAHA!”

Katsuki wasted no time in shoving his hands right up into Denki’s underarms, vibrating his fingers against him.

“EEHEHE STAHAHAHAHA!” Denki laughed, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Nuh-uh, you asked for this.”

Katsuki was thorough—he fluttered his fingers against Denki’s ears and neck, pinched up and down his sides, skillfully rubbed his thumbs into his ribs, massaged his hips, and even squeezed his thighs—constantly making him jump and yelp in surprise. Finally, he reached back to squeeze above and skitter his fingers underneath Denki’s knees.

“AAAAIIIEEHEHE NONONONONO NOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE! PLEHEHEHEHEASE NOHOHO!” 

Denki laughed and laughed and laughed, banging his fist on the ground. He thrashed about as much as he could, making a futile attempt to escape. He was at his limit.

“ALRIGHT! ALRIGHT, ALRIHAHAHAHAIGHT! I’LL TALK I’LL TAHAHAHAHAAAHAHAHA!!”

“Took you long enough. You have more stamina than I thought.”

“I- ehehe… I wanted, I wanted you to, to t-tickle me.”

“...You’re kidding.”

“P-please don’t be mad!”

“I’m not mad.”

“Oh, thank God…”

“You could have just asked, y’know?”

“I-I didn’t know how you’d react…”

“So you decided to annoy me all day instead?”

Denki nodded.

Katsuki sighed. “For future reference, I’d be more than happy to take you up on that request. Any time you want.”

#tickling #tickle fic #ss2k23 #squealing santa 2k23 #katsuki bakugou #izuku midoriya #deku #denki kaminari #bakudeku #kamibaku #ler!bakugou #lee!deku #lee!midoriya #lee!kaminari #bnha #princess scrawlings

[party-hearses]

relax, baby | joel miller x f!reader

pairing: joel miller x f!reader (NO USE OF Y/N)

rating: explicit, 18+ MDNI

wordcount: 5k

summary: joel is full of surprises at work.

series warnings/tags: pwp, explicit smut, v fingering, brief oral (f receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, pet names (princess, baby), language, no cordyceps outbreak, lmk if i’m forgetting anything. honestly, this is just filth.

author's note: i wrote this instead of doing homework. my smut abilities are a little rusty, so here’s my attempt at getting them working again. feedback and reblogs are appreciated if you enjoy! <3

“‘Sposed to be a scorcher today.”

“‘Sposed to be a scorcher every fucking day,” you mumble into the receipt book splayed open in front of you.

He isn’t wrong, of course. Just irritating. The Texas summer heat is unrelenting at best, but it’s not anything new.

“What was that, princess?”

You grimace at the nickname. Stupid fucking Joel Miller, your brother’s boss, taunting you while he rummages through the filing cabinet shoved into the corner of the room opposite you.

Your boss, now, too. Sort of.

“Nothin’.”

“S’what I thought.” He pulls his body up to its full height, having found what he was searching for. He holds the file of paperwork in his hands like a prize, slamming the drawer of the unit shut. “You’re lucky to have AC in here, princesa. Not like the rest of the guys, out there in the sun.”

You roll your eyes skyward at the jab. It hadn’t taken long for you to be branded with different variations of the nickname, which, much to your chagrin, isn’t even inventive. The names the guys call you usually revolve around your new position as “office admin” (a made up term), and the considerable comfort (if it could be called that) it offers. Low hanging fruit, in your opinion.

Your brother tells you to laugh it off, to take it as a compliment. A means of being accepted. It’s not worth the argument about power dynamics and the stigma of being a woman in a male dominated profession, especially for a temporary position, so you do your best to ignore it. It’s not like your brother would understand your points, anyway.

“You’re the boss, Joel. You don’t have to be — out there.” You wave your hand at the window, grimy with dust and…grime. Unknown construction grime. Men, you shudder.

“Oh, yeah? Guess I could just post up in here all day with you, huh?” He’s looking at you now, hands on his hips, smirk pulled across his mouth. He grips the file in his hand against his waist, strong fingers nearly crumpling it in half.

He’s irritating, but fuck, if he isn’t gorgeous. All taut muscles, graying scruff, and big, sad, brown eyes. It’s hard to keep your own eyes off him regularly, but it’s an exercise in futility the rare times you’re alone with him.

But you shrug, coolly, playing off the damning attraction you feel towards him. “I don’t care what you do, Miller.”

“Yeah?” he breathes, and he’s there, across the desk from you, palms planted face-down on the cool wood, chin dipped.

You swallow hard, meeting his smoldering eyes. It’s impossible not to notice his tee shirt, Miller Construction scrawled across the left breast, pulling against his chest and biceps. He’s so fucking big.

“You should care, sweetheart, ‘cause you run—” He leans in closer.

“—the whole—” Closer still.

“—fucking—”

You can smell the cedar and sawdust on him. The distinctly masculine scent. it makes your head swim.

“—office,” He finishes, inches away from your face.

Your eyes widen.

“I mean- uh, well, of cou-“ you stutter, but he’s laughing, pulling away.

Narrowing your eyes, you slam the receipt book shut. “Shouldn’t you be at a different site? Not here, bothering me?”

He grins, still chuckling lowly, permanently-tousled curls begging to be pulled.

“You tell me,” he says, gesturing to the now-closed notebook with his chiseled jaw. “You’re my keeper, ain’t ya?”

This fucking guy.

You blow the air out of your cheeks, exasperated.

“I am not,” you say slowly, through gritted teeth, “your keeper. I am helping you out by cleaning up your books and organizing some schedules, while I’m home for the summer. As a favor to my brother.”

He tilts his head, grin giving way to a sly smile. Saying nothing.

“Wouldn’t be working in a fucking trailer for anyone else,” you grumble pointedly, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I am payin’ ya, though.”

Joel tosses the file in front of you and drags a chair from the other side of the room — other side of the trailer — to a stop in front of the desk you’re seated at. He plants himself in it, kicking his feet up on the top of the desk.

“For real?” you cry, throwing your hands above your shoulders.

He laughs. He fucking laughs.

“Take it easy, princess. If I’m the boss, and I’m kickin’ back, why are you so high strung?”

Your brow furrows, but you don’t respond.

This strange, almost playful Joel is under your skin more than usual. It might be the heat (you won’t give him the satisfaction of admitting it), or the clusterfuck of receipts you should be reconciling (that he gave you at the last minute) — but you suspect the annoyance comes from his newfound interest in teasing you.

You suddenly miss the silent, brooding Joel Miller. The one who left you alone to do your work.

“I’m trying to help you,” you finally spit.

“You can help me by relaxin’, darlin’.” His voice is suddenly low, a deep timbre that vibrates your bones. “Do I need to help you do that?”

His words shoot straight to your cunt.

Instinctually, you press your thighs together, squirming in your seat.

It’s been too long since you’ve been touched, since you’ve been handled properly — the only viable hook-up options in your hometown being the losers you’d gone to high school with, which made them, well…not viable options.

Your body betrays you, need building low in your belly, and of course Joel notices the way you shift in the chair.

The entire tone of the room shifts, if you’re being honest.

“Oh,” his eyes as dark as his voice now, “you do need my help.”

You freeze. Everything in his voice spells t-r-o-u-b-l-e.

“No,” you squeak, “I- I-“

“You, what, baby?” It’s a taunting lilt now, and you feel like every nerve ending you have is melting straight off your body. He quirks his brow at you.

Baby, baby, baby, echoing in your ears.

He raises his body out of the chair, squaring his broad shoulders, and you think your heart might stop.

Making his way around the desk, hands ghosting the edges of the worn wood, his eyes burn into yours.

“So lucky all my guys are out at other sites, baby.” He’s whispering now, dragging his knuckle across your cheek, closer than he’s ever been to you. Looking down at you from his towering height. “So I can help you relax.”

There are stars in your eyes. You don’t even like this man, but his hands on you feel so good.

It’s surreal. You’re just a deer caught in the headlights, looking up at him with your big doe-eyes.

Prey.

You’re sure he’ll pull away again, laugh at you — laugh at the way your pulse picks up under his touch. How it beats against your skin like a bass drum.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he twists his wrist to cup your jaw, strong fingers digging into your flesh. Your lips part involuntarily, a quiet moan escaping.

“Wanna fuck you, princess.” His words are sticky honey in your ears, the nickname hot on his tongue. “Been wantin’ to fuck you.”

All you can do is nod. You’re done for. Putty in his hands, now.

“Can I do that? Fuck you?” He drops to a crouch in front of you, sliding his hand down your flushed skin to your throat, angling his fingers, the delicate webbing between his index finger and thumb pressed right to the base of your neck. He squeezes so so so gently — just enough to make you chase his touch.

“Yes.”

His eyes are black, pupils blown out in arousal. “You’ll be good for me?”

“I’ll be good for you,” you repeat obediently. Quietly. Only for him.

It doesn’t feel like you’re in control of the words leaving your mouth.

He crashes his mouth into yours, taking, taking, taking. Massaging your bottom lip with his scorching tongue, he begs for entrance — and you know in this moment, you will never deny him a single thing.

He licks into you with such a feverish intensity that you have to throw your arms around his shoulders just to remain steady. This action seems to spur him on, as he slides both his hands around your hips, one pulling you closer to him while the other crawls up to cradle the base of your skull, fingers threaded into your hair. He’s crouched over you entirely, nearly dragging you off the office chair. Your own fingers dig into the shoulders of his shirt, his thick muscles dragging you closer and closer to him.

Small in his hands, he breaks his mouth from yours only to haul you up and around, pressing your belly against the desk, your arms jelly as they brace against the sturdiness of the wood. He pulls your shirt up and over your shoulders from the back, peppering kissing up the exposed flesh of your spine, before discarding the garment on the floor. Your bra is next, and he wastes no time in chucking it too, to the floor and using his big hands to cup your pert tits from behind. His whole body is pressed against yours, the buckle of his belt scraping against the small of your back.

“Knew you’d have perfect tits,” he growls, next to your ear. His fingers expertly roll your nipples, massaging them into tight points. It makes you want to cry out. He licks a broad stripe up your throat, nipping the skin just above your shoulder, and this time, you do cry out.

“Be loud for me, baby. Wanna make you feel good.”

“What if s-someone hea-“ you start nervously, your voice shaking as much as your limbs.

Bracing his mouth against yours again, tongue forcing its way in to explore every inch, he cuts off the question you were going to ask.

Ignores the question.

He moves his mouth down your neck again, fingers still kneading against your nipples. Your eyes flick to the deadbolt of the door anxiously, but an extra-hard pinch pulls your focus back as you moan involuntarily. Loudly.

Obviously enjoying himself, he drops one hand to your tummy, sliding it over your soft skin to the band of your shorts.

“Gonna take these off now, okay, baby?” he asks between kisses and nips against your flesh, peppered with goosebumps.

You nod hurriedly. Need thrums in your ears, washes everything except his voice out.

His hand still cupping your breast joins the other in unbuttoning your shorts, and they’re off in record time. They fall to your feet, and you kick them off haphazardly, not caring where they end up.

The only thing separating Joel from you now is your panties, black and lacy and soaked.

You recognize, dismayed, that he still has all of his clothes on, but he’s too busy with his hands on you to notice.

He turns you around to face him, stepping back just enough to rake his eyes over every inch of you. You steady yourself on the edge of the desk with your hands, the hard corner biting into the soft flesh of the backs of your thighs.

“Fu-u-u-ck.” He lets out a low whistle, and for a brief second, you want to cover your body with your arms, slink away shyly.

But he has his hand cupped around your sex lightning fast, and he groans, low and primal.

“You’re so fuckin’ wet for me, baby. Soakin’ through your panties.”

He ducks against your neck again, landing kisses down the length of it, but going further this time, down your breast to take your nipple into his mouth. He suckles gently, hand moving back and forth over the white heat of your cunt, and you arch your back against him. Your body filled with a furious tension, tight as a bowstring.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

“Take y-your shirt off,” you demand suddenly, your hands scrambling for purchase on the the scratchy material.

He pulls back from you, and you’re left panting, three quarters naked. Nipples impossibly hard from both his mouth and the air conditioning, and you can tell he’s inconvenienced to be pulled away from them.

But he acquiesces, shucking his shirt off quickly, desperate to lave his tongue over your flesh again.

You take him in in the entirety that he’s allowed you — strong but soft, body molded by years of manual labor, rough hands desperate to be stroking you.

Not allowing you too much time, he resumes his stance in a hurry, splaying his hands across your back, nibbling lightly at the supple flesh of your breasts. He runs his tongue over the heavy curve of it, before dragging it across the plane of your chest to the opposite side, taking your other nipple into the heat of his mouth.

Keening under his touch, you mewl his name. Desperate.

“I know, baby. I know.” It’s muffled against the weight of your breast. His teeth just grazing the tender flesh.

He brings one hand around to the front of your panties again, teasing the band stretched over the place your thigh meets your pelvis with his calloused fingertips. The bite of them scrape a heavenly sting against your softness.

You rock your hips up into his palm, begging. Please, please, please. He chuckles lowly against your skin, still biting gently at your nipple, your knuckles white on the edge of the desk.

He breaks his mouth off of you, looking up to meet your eyes through his long, dark lashes.

There’s still one of his hands steady on your back, and combined with the way he’s got himself pressed against you, you’re sure he’s the only reason you’re somewhat vertical right now. The bones in your legs threaten to give out the more attention he pays your body. He ruts his erect length against your thigh.

“You want it so bad, don’t you?”

“Want it so bad,” you echo — his plaything.

“Should’ve asked me a long time ago. Teasin’ me constantly. Makin’ me fuck my fist at night like a teenage boy.” He straightens his body, allowing his thumb to dance over your clit through the material of your panties, but refusing to make direct contact. Making you chase the feeling with your hips.

The notion that he’s ever thought of you in that way makes your cunt tingle.

“Need it, Joel.”

You don’t have the words to tell him how long you’ve thought about him, how even though he pisses you off, you’ve wanted him to fuck you over this very desk since you started working for him. How it’s been too long since you’ve been touched and now you think you’re ruined in the most delectable way.

With a dark smile against your skin, he finally moves his hand over just enough, sliding four fingers down the front of your panties, thumb still on the outside, and fists the thin material. It rips down the seams, and in one smooth motion, he pulls the ruined lace from your body.

You gasp, cold air hitting your cunt.

He takes the destroyed scrap of material and palms his hard cock through his jeans, rubbing the lace against the front of himself. It’s obscene, and you can’t take your eyes off it.

Fighting to catch your breath, overwhelmed by his touch, you watch as he pulls back to shove what used to be your panties in his front pocket before unbuckling his belt, snapping it quickly out of the loops, hands flying then to unbutton and unzip his jeans. He finally shoves them down to knees, the length of them bunching up over his work boots.

Left in his boxers, you can see the thick outline of his cock, and he’s huge.

You had expected him to be big — like, look at him — but it’s more than you could have fathomed.

Your eyes drag from the heavy bulge back up to his face, and he must clock the apprehension in your eyes, because he extends his hand to your cheek, cupping it tenderly.

“Promise I’ll make it feel good. Won’t put it in until you’re ready.”

His hands are large enough over your face that his thumb traces the outline of your parted lips. Without thinking, you open further to accept it inside, swirling your scorching tongue around the digit.

His eyes darken further, though you didn’t know it possible.

“Oh, baby. Baby.”

His head falls back, jaw slack, enjoying the sensation of your mouth on him.

With his other hand, he slides his fingers through your swollen, dripping folds, gathering your slick on the rough tips. He circles your hole with his middle finger, and you can feel yourself clenching around nothing, needing.

“This okay?” he asks quietly, and you pause, meeting his gaze with your own. As calm and collected as he looks, his voice shakes just enough to tell you that he’s rehearsed this scene in his head so many times.

You don’t really know how you got here, if you’re being honest, but…

“Want you so bad, Joel,” you whisper, thoughts hazy, pupils blown out.

“Gonna fuck you ‘til all you can say is my name,” he whispers back gruffly.

It makes your cunt clench, his finger still poised there. Your chest rises and falls with ragged breath, anticipating. You can’t imagine how fucked-out you look right now, but based on the way he’s drinking you in, he loves it.

He finally presses his single finger inside of you, groaning at the warmth.

“So tight for me, princesa.”

The nickname hits differently this time — intimate. Filthy. Filling you with desperation.

You cry out at the stretch, his hands so much bigger than your own. One finger of his is the size of two of yours, and you’ve never felt so full. You snake your arms around his shoulders, letting him hold you up, his other hand falling from your cheek to resume it’s place at the small of your back, as he slowly starts a rhythm of fucking into you. His palm stutters against your clit, and you can feel your slick dripping down onto it.

It’s so much.

Your senses are overloaded with him, and he hasn’t even put his cock in you, yet.

He does, however, nudge a second finger at your entrance, and it’s enough to make you drop your forehead onto his broad shoulder, his muscles rippling as his wrist and fingers move against you.

You press your open mouth into his shoulder, muffling your cries.

Sliding his ring finger in beside the other, he scissors them, stretching you open, open, open, while at the same time he performs a much more precise ministration on your clit, rubbing small circles that make you squeeze your eyes shut. Chests pressed flush against one another, he buries his face in the length of your hair.

Despite the air conditioner, the room is humid with body heat, and sweat starts to collect at your temples. Every inch of your skin is flushed, Joel breathing heavily next to your ear.

“Want you to come for me, baby. Can’t fuck you right ‘til you come for me.”

You lean further into his body, under the trance of the rhythm of his fingers. He drags his free hand up the length of your back to wrap around your hair, gently pulling your head back to look into your eyes.

“uh-uh, baby. Wanna see you. Don’t hide.”

Your cheeks flush crimson, your eyes half-lidded, lips kiss-swollen. Seeing the way he studies you, the tip of his tongue resting on the pillow of his top lip, his fingers so big inside of you — your orgasm approaches quickly, your hips working with his hand to get you there.

Your breathing starts to stutter, and his eyes are on fire watching you. Memorizing every movement you make, how he’s taken you apart at the seams. He speeds up the movement of his thumb, just slightly, but it’s enough to tip you over the edge.

Convulsing around his thick fingers, you cry out, loud, loud, loud. The deadbolt on the door a distant memory.

In fact, you dare someone to walk in. To fuck with Joel Miller taking what he needs from you. They’d never recover.

“Yes, baby. Look so fuckin’ beautiful coming all over my fingers,” he growls, fucking you through the electric waves rolling through your body, tugging your hair harder.

He’s kissing you again, swallowing your remaining moans into his mouth, and you feel like you’ll never recover. You may never walk again — and it’s just his fingers.

Sliding his fingers out of your pulsing pussy, he drags them over to your hip, your own slick smeared across your abdomen. He drops his other hand to your other hip, and before you know what’s happening, he’s lifting you up on top of the desk. On top of the files, and receipts, and work you’d just been doing.

If he doesn’t care, then neither do you.

Obediently leaning back on your elbows, he sets you far enough back that he can hook his hands under your knees to pull them closer to you, your tennis shoes dangling between you. It makes you giggle, which makes him smirk.

But it’s only a second before he’s pushing your knees back again, opening you up to him. His eyes drop to your glistening pussy, pink and swollen from his fingers.

“Fuck, baby. Don’t know how long I’ve been waitin’ to see this little pussy,” he hisses, before dropping his head to lick a hot stripe up your wet center.

“Holy shit, Joel,” you breathe, “that feels so good.”

He licks his lips, your sweetness shiny on his beard. “Next time I’ll make you come with just my mouth, baby. Need’ta fuck you, now.” His voice is low, but the promise of next time wraps itself around your chest and squeezes.

You bite your lip, nodding, watching him through your lashes.

He gently sets your legs down enough that your feet drop to the top of the desk, but he keeps one hand on your thigh to keep you open for him — exposed.

“Won’t ever get tired of lookin’ at that pussy, baby,” he coos, “so keep it open for me.”

You’ve never been talked to this way before, and it sets your skin alight. Never been handled this way before.

You’re so fucked.

With his free hand he shoves his boxers down, his hard cock bobbing back up against the dark hair trailing below his bellybutton with a wet thwack. All of the blood you have left in your body rushes to your cunt (you’re sure most of it was there already), and your mouth pops open involuntarily.

You know you’re staring, but you can’t help it. He’s so. fucking. big.

“Will it…um, will-“ you stammer, gaze dragging up his body to his face.

He crowds you, a deep hunger in his eyes, hard cock in his fist. Poised at your entrance, pre-cum beading at the tip.

“Know you can take it, baby,” he growls.

“Okay,” you whimper, warmth blooming across your chest.

He slides his empty hand under your thigh, caressing the skin gently — a stark contrast from the way he’s gripping his cock with his other hand. It feels reassuring, almost tender.

“Ready?”

You mewl, scooting your ass an inch or so forward to egg him on. He grips your thigh, his large hand spreading all the way beneath it.

He presses into you slowly — excruciatingly slowly — but it’s enough to make you drop your head back and whine at the delicious stretch. He keeps his hand at the base of his cock, and you’re not sure if it’s for your benefit or his.

His eyes are glued to where he’s breached your entrance, watching you stretch to accommodate his girth, and it takes his breath away.

“Fuck, princess. So tight. So fuckin’ perfect for me,” he grunts, but it’s gentle, as if he’s in awe of you.

The sting of it gives way to furious pleasure, and you want him to move faster as he gives you more of himself.

“Joel,” you whisper, face to the ceiling, “faster, please.”

He grunts again, but feeds more of his cock into your hole, sliding his palm around the curve of your thigh to rub your clit. It send electric shocks through your limbs, your pussy clenching around him at the sudden pleasure radiating from your center.

Your knees are still pressed into your chest, folded practically in half, and he keeps going, and going, and going, until his pelvis is pressed flush to yours, bottoming out inside of you.

He stills, breathing ragged, to grip your jaw and bring your head down, saying through clenched teeth, “Lookit, baby. Lookit that. You took all’f me. The whole fuckin’ thing. I want you t’see.”

Your eyes, half-lidded, gaze at where he disappears into you, your aching lips strained against him.

“Made for me,” he says, and you can tell how much he’s restraining himself by the way he ticks his jaw and squeezes his eyes shut.

Thinking about anything but how fucking good your pussy feels wrapped around him.

“Fuck me,” you whimper, “Joel, please.” You lift both your feet off the desk, wrapping them around his waist in an effort to pull him in closer — to make him move faster.

“Baby,” it’s his turn to drop his head back, snarling at your tightness. But he gives you what you need, rocking his hips into you finally.

Pleasure swirls in your core, and you know it won’t take long. He’s still rubbing your clit, but the movements are erratic and messy, his focus on how good you feel on him. His other hand inches up your side, grabbing at your breast, anchoring himself to you while the bottom half of his body thrusts in and out of you expertly.

You’re both dewy with sweat, and as you’re lost in the way he moves against you, feeling the tip of him bumping up into the furthest depths of you, he leans forward and licks up a stray bead of perspiration rolling down your neck.

The eroticism of it makes your whole body shudder, and he gasps at the way your body reacts to him.

“Not gonna last long, princess. Feels too good,” he manages to spit out, subconsciously increasing his speed drilling into you. He can’t believe he has you open so wide, taking all of him.

He knew the moment he saw you that you were made to take his cock.

“Gonna come, Joel.”

“Come for me, baby. Gimme one more,” he encourages huskily, opening his eyes to watch you raise your hips to meet his every thrust.

Knowing that he’s watching you drags you higher and higher until the tension of your body snaps, soaking his abdomen with your release.

His hips stutter against you, and he stills as your cunt tightens even more around him, your walls fluttering against every inch of him. His thumb, still grazing your clit, presses into it firmly, making your toes curl.

“Joel,” you drag his name out in a harsh whisper, fireworks bursting behind your eyes. It’s never been like this. You can’t go back to it not being like this.

He’s right — it doesn’t take long, you whimpering his name pushing him past the point of no return, and he spills inside of you, his cock pumping every drop he has.

Your legs tighten around him, holding him in place as he slams both palms down on either side of you on the desk, a deep growl emitting from his chest. His tousled hair hangs in front of his eyes, his neck and chest flushed red.

“Fuuuuck.” He mumbles, sliding his cock out of you so, so slowly. As if he doesn’t want to pull out ever.

You release your legs just enough to let him step back, but as you go to close your legs, his spend dripping out of your stretched open pussy, he grabs your thigh and wrenches it back open.

“Waitaminute,” he grunts, and you can feel his other hand searching for something across the top of the desk, scrambling through the files and papers you had neatly stacked.

Busy trying to catch your breath, you don’t notice when he brings his phone to the front of you, opening his camera and snapping a photo of him dripping out of you.

“Joel! Ohmygod!” you giggle, as he smirks at you. Your cheeks flush deeper at the idea of him keeping that photo, of even wanting that photo, and you bat his hand away and close your legs quickly.

“I’ll delete it if’ya want,” he offers, but you both know that not what you want.

You hum teasingly.

“S’what I thought,” he says, running a gentle hand over your now-closed knees. “‘Sides, gotta keep something to remind you that you’re mine.” His hand follows the curves of your body to your tits, and he tweaks your nipple one final time.

Leaning in to kiss you, his tongue warm in your mouth, he whispers against you, “Better put your panties on, princess. Gotta keep it all inside you.” Prying your legs apart again just enough to slide his palm through them, he cups your sex with his large hand.

“You tore ‘em to pieces,” you whisper back, a dark smile on your lips. “Pretty sure what’s left of them is in the pocket of your jeans.”

“Mmm, you’re right. Guess I’ll have to fill you up again and find a way to make sure you can keep it in.”

Electricity shoots through you, and you miss his hand as soon as he pulls it away to drag his boxers and jeans up.

You drop your legs, despite how much they’re shaking, and pick up your clothes scattered across the room. Once you’re dressed (as much as you can be without panties), you stretch up on your tiptoes to kiss him again, while he does what he can to tame his hair with his fingers. It makes you laugh, and he matches it warmly. He kisses you again and again.

“Why don’t you, uh, take the rest of the day off? Done plenty of work here. I can clean up,” he smirks at you, nodding his head to the messy desk, where you’re pretty sure some of his cum had slipped out.

“Gee, thanks, boss. Can’t wait to get back to it Monday.” You wink at him, pulling your body away and picking your bag up from the coat rack next to the door. Hand on the doorknob, you glance back at him, a smirk of your own on your face.

“Oh, and because you didn’t ask — I am on birth control.”

His eyes widen in surprise, but you laugh and close the door behind you, headed home.

You don’t even know how fucked you are, yet.

#joel miller smut #joel miller x you #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller tlou #joel the last of us #joel tlou #joel miller #tlou #tlou fic #pedro pascal fanfic #joel x you #joel x reader

[koqabear]

「 Camera Shy 」

♫: Automatic, Red Velvet // Movie Star, CIX // Color Me, JUNNY // Kitty Cat, KISS OF LIFE

“You’ve always tried to live an honest and responsible life; never spending money on anything ridiculous, scoffing at the things other people would be so willing to drop their paycheck on. But when life gets hard, you’re bound to give into your guilty pleasures, right?”

camboy!Beomgyu x fem!reader

Genre: f2l, smut, pw/minimal plot 

Word count: 14.4K (there’s like three different smut scenes here)

Warnings: gyu has a thing for glasses idk don’t question me, (mc wears glasses, not necessarily prescription), gyu is lowkey manipulative if u squint, slight possessiveness on his part? nothing toxic (i think), alcohol consumption, gyu has a tattoo.. 

smut warnings: gyu is a bit of a perv! mean dom!Beomgyu, sub!mc, masturbation (f&m), filmed sex, (consensual), dirty talk, degrading, use of toys (f&m rec.), exhibitionism, voyeurism technically, bit of a voice/hand kink? slight humiliation kink, mentions of safe words & subspace, mentions of squirting lmao, manhandling, spanking, pet names (princess, baby, etc.), fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, marking, dry humping, handcuffing, biting, unprotected sex, dumbification, dacryphilia, creampie (lmk if i should add anything!)

Notes: lemme tell you. i wrote abt the tattoo before i stumbled upon that pic, when i tell you i was just ??? barely proof-read heehee. the thought of this au hit me like a that-so-raven vision, and I literally spent the whole day making sure I could finish this. enjoy bc i love camboy aus sm. (oh and pls, do me a favor and reblog— i have an ominous feeling about what’ll happen to this fic once i post it.)

Beomgyu has always found the idea of his work a bit ridiculous. 

Day by day, he’s a normal college student— he spends his early mornings in classes, taking all the morning slots everyone was always reluctant to enroll in before he went off to work; he was known as that cute server amongst the women that visited the restaurant he worked at, able to upsell and gain tips with ease as he quickly became a favorite amongst his coworkers.

He liked the attention— of course he did, he needed to in order to thrive in the field of his actual job, his hours at the restaurant nothing but a side hustle compared to the hundreds he could make of a single stream.

Those hundreds could always breach into the thousands— but those were on especially good days, like his annual Valentine’s Day stream he always held for his lonely, single viewers. 

Beomgyu was quite the sweet talker— he got the practice from his day-to-day shifts, watching girls his age and older fawn at his words and flutter their eyes playfully. It was clear they enjoyed the attention just as much as he did, a cute smile on his face as he faked a shy laugh whenever they would compliment him.

Your hair looks really nice today. You smell amazing. Do you work out? You have a really nice voice. 

He got that last compliment a lot.

“Do I?” he would purr, a sultry smile crawling on his face each time, like a practiced action as he would tilt his head teasingly— the reaction would be positive each time, without fail, and he would always end up with a collection of napkins with scrawled phone numbers every time he would clock out— his coworkers would poke fun at him every time they watched him dump them all out apathetically. 

You weren’t into that one person? Dude, the lady at table seven was so fucking hot.

Beomgyu never really paid mind to their teasing— he could care less for the men and women that tried to butter him up during his shifts, forced to act as though their shameless flirting didn’t make his stomach twist unpleasantly— instead, he would be forced to smile, laughing sheepishly before he would slip away with one last comment. 

“I’m flattered, really— but, I have someone I’m interested in.” 

That someone was you— the pretty girl that sat across from him during his ten am lecture, finding himself spacing out every time and staring off into your direction; though you never seemed to notice, much too caught up in taking notes as he watched the way your brows would furrow, biting at your lip and adjusting your glasses as you remained focused— whether those glasses were for reading, blue light, prescription, or even decoration, he didn’t care— all he cared about was how unnecessarily attractive you looked in them. 

He thought about you more than he liked to admit— it was frustrating at first, his thoughts starting as nothing more than puppy love to something worse— it was only after you piqued his interest that he began streaming more. 

This was both a good and bad thing; good because, well, he began to climb the ranks of popularity and earn more, but bad because he would find himself thinking of you. Each. And every. Time. 

“Wish I could fuck you,” he would sigh out, his comments going too fast for him to keep up with as his eyes fluttered shut; leaning back against his headboard, he shifts, making sure everything but his lips remain out of frame before he’s back to closing his eyes, “would you let me make you feel good? God, I’d do anything just to feel you, taste you…”

As far as his audience knows, he’s speaking to them— the comments grow wild and tips flood in, all asking him to stop being a tease as they watch the way he palms himself through his sweatpants; grabbing at his length, stroking it slowly as he lets his imagination run wild. 

He’s not wearing boxers; Beomgyu knows it drives his viewers mad, able to see as a wet spot begins to form on the light material, his tip leaking furiously as his other hand tugs the hem of his sweater over his chest— his vision is hazy as he reads the requests, laughing softly as he allows his fingers to trace along his chest absentmindedly— tracing over the muscle of his abdomen, circling his nipples slowly as he reads a comment under his breath.

Stop teasing and hurry up already !! >///<

The comment has him rolling his eyes— yet his usual tippers begin to request the same thing, and his hand is slowly tugging at the tied strings of his pants as he smiles, mocking and mean as he bites his lip. 

“Hurry up? You want to command me while you’re over here throwing money at me like a whore? All just to watch me fuck myself, dreaming that it could be you?”

The comments start speeding up; it’s all a blur to him, but the sound of money coming in is enough to tell him that his usual audience is active again.

“Pathetic,” he sighs, his voice deep and grumbly as he reads over the requests that come in with the money: yes, i wish it were me there… please, can we see your cock?

“Desperate little sluts,” Beomgyu hums, tugging his waistband down and allowing his cock to spring up; it smacks against his stomach, and though the people in his comments attempt to regain his attention with dirty words and useless requests, he knows it’s all because of you— guiltily, he finds his thoughts straying the moment his hand wraps around his cock. 

His streams have a certain formula to them; the more money, the better the show. Which is exactly why he ends up kneeling in front of the camera, fucking his cock into a clear flashlight as he listens to the sounds of tips coming in left and right— but his eyes remained shut, spilling enough filth to have his audience satisfied as he allows to let his imagination run wild. 

In every stream, he cums to the thought of you; he has to bite his lip to not moan out your name like a pathetic bitch in heat, flooding his fleshlight with cum and continuing to fuck into it until his next orgasm.

In every stream, he finds himself thinking the same thought at least once— do you watch his streams?

»»»

The concept of camboys is ridiculous to you.

Why in the world would you spend all your money and emotions on a single person, when you can just go on Twitter and find the next best account that has yet to be suspended? Well, it’s not as though you find the idea of sex work appalling, but you don’t think you’d ever feel good about yourself spending a hard-earned paycheck because you were horny. 

You’re not stupid; you know sex workers make bank, and you know that there are people in the world that love emptying out their bank accounts to such workers; whether it’s due to a kink or to feed into their parasocial relationship, you’re not sure. 

You find that a good session on Twitter and your fingers usually does the trick— maybe a toy or two, if you find yourself feeling that needy. 

Today’s session quickly becomes both disappointing and humbling; every account you try to look for has either been suspended or deleted, and every video you come across is something that’s not to your taste or something you’ve seen many, many times. 

You feel weak as you come across the same account again; guiltypleasures— and he’s damn right, because you’re unable to resist the urge to click on his icon, feeling your thighs rub together with impatience as you sit back in bed— scrolling through, you’re surprised to see that he’s posted another video— without a second thought, you’re watching it. 

“Fucking pathetic,” he sighs out, the familiar growled phrase making you gulp; you never found yourself to be too attracted to men who are extremely dominating and mean, but the man on your screen is somehow able to make it work as you find yourself getting wetter, “are you touching yourself right now? Don’t you wish I was there with you?”

And shit, you think you know why he’s able to make you come back to him every time, even if he’s posted nothing new and you’re forced to rewatch old videos most of the time; maybe it’s because of his hands, delicate and thin as they wrap around his favorite pocket pussy, or maybe it’s the way he slowly fucks into the said toy; stretching it out, his tip poking out and oozing enough cum that you can hear the wet squelching sounds that come from every thrust.

Or maybe, it’s his voice, deep and breathy and addicting as he mumbles out filthy things like it’s the only thing he knew how to do; his lips are red and swollen as he groans, hissing through his teeth as you watch the way his hands tighten around his toy. 

“Shit, I’d fuck you so good,” he sighs out, hips rutting into the toy in his hands as he laughs; his head tilts, and though you’re only able to see his lips, you know his eyes are teasing as he looks into the camera, “fuck you so that you’d never want anyone else but me.”

His thrusts are picking up— you didn’t even realize the moment you began touching yourself, embarrassing whimpers and breaths falling from your lips as you keep your eyes honed in on his motions; you’re close, so close, your ministration speeding up as you fight to keep your eyes open. 

“You’d be my good little cumdump, just for me to use— right?”

The video ends shortly after.

God damn it! your mind screams, the sudden cut-off catching you so off guard that you completely ruined your orgasm; you feel insanely embarrassed by how frustrated you feel, not realizing how short the clip he posted was until now. Clicking away, you feel as though your mood is ruined as you read the contents of his tweet. 

A small clip from the stream. Watch the rest here: https://…..

Shit. Of course he would be a camboy. How did you not realize this sooner?

Honestly, if you sounded like that, you would be one too— and frustratingly enough, the brief cutoff is a damn good marketing strategy, because after a moment of thought, you’re clicking on the link.

You could just rewatch the video— you could also just go rewatch his previous videos, or even use your imagination to help you finish— but the idea of doing so is much more unpleasant than usual. (And humiliating, because you’ve found with horror that you’ve begun to memorize how his previous, equally as short, clips go.)

Your resolve begins to weaken the moment you click on his page— because of course, everything costs money— It costs to see his previous streams, costs to message him, and costs to get a fucking membership. 

Who is paying for all this?!

You, apparently— because after some serious, slightly horny-impaired thought, you decide that getting a low-tier membership wouldn’t be too bad, right?

The cost is monthly (because of course it is, this website seems to want to charge you for just looking at his page) and you wince slightly as you watch your transaction go through. 

Once you see the notification of your purchase pop up on your phone, you feel dreadfully sobered. 

Because shit, being a low-tier subscriber only gets you a part of his most recent streams— about less than half of it, you notice— only able to get full access to streams prior to this month. It’s enough for now, but you can’t help but feel as though you’ve become the very thing you’ve despised as you lay back in your bed, staring at your ceiling for a moment before you’re sighing.

You’re still horny. 

»»»

You think you can get behind the whole camboy thing. One may say you’ve been swayed, and quite honestly, you don’t think you could dispel such claims at this point.

Because it’s been a few months, and you’ve managed to stay through the whole thing. You’re surprised that you’ve begun to keep his streaming times in mind as you go about your day, ending your study sessions early or wondering if you’ll get home from work in time to watch his streams. 

You always do. Maybe it’s a deity above making sure you get your money’s worth, or maybe it’s the fact that guiltypleasures is a human too, with a normal life and better shit to do than sit in front of a camera and jerk off all day. 

The idea of following in his footsteps has crossed your mind more often than you expected; anything would be better than being a hostess at this god-awful job you have, forced to sit through the way people take out their anger on you and proceed to flirt with the servers— one of those servers being Beomgyu.

You were able to realize how popular Beomgyu was after your second shift— it didn’t take a genius to figure out why as you were left to deal with the way women of your age and older (mostly older. So many older women.) would creep up to you shyly, putting up a front of innocence as they asked you is Beomgyu here today? Could we sit in his area, please?

Seeing him rack up tips after a busy shift is always enough to have you wondering if you should switch to being a server— but then you see the way the women are treated, your stomach flipping in disgust at the way men leer and comment at them— you’ve even seen Beomgyu get cursed at plenty of times as well, shivering at the jealous partners and the way they’ve been blacklisted for threatening him. 

Tonight is one of those nights. You’ve clocked out, shrugging on your jacket and gathering your belongings when you see Beomgyu storm in through the employee entrance; you don’t think you’ve ever seen him angry, but the sight has your eyes widening as you watch the way he frowns at his uniform, cursing angrily under his breath as he approaches the break table you stand by. 

“Fuck,” he hisses, low and breathy and mean as he continues complaining, berating the customer that had the audacity to throw their drink at him— but you, in your very depraved state, remain stuck on the way he sounds, his voice far too attractive for a person who is spouting out filth.

This feels familiar. 

“Hey, you okay?” you ask softly, feeling awkward as you mentally slap yourself for your train of thought; it seems as though Beomgyu hadn’t even realized you were there, his head snapping up as he stares at you like a deer caught in headlights— his mood is immediately shifting as he sends you a sweet smile, acting as though his clothes aren’t soaked as he waves you off causally. 

“Yeah. Just some ridiculous customers,” he says, laughing softly as he grabs at a pile of napkins on the table; you wince as you watch him scrub roughly at the stains, unable to stop yourself as you jump to his aide. 

“Here, you’ll only get the stains in deeper if you do that,” you say, taking the napkin from his hands as you begin to dab at his uniform without much thought; you’re much closer than you should be to someone you’ve never really talked to, but you don’t seem to realize it as Beomgyu practically forgets to breathe from your proximity. 

Shit, how did he find himself in this situation? He might as well go back out and thank the jealous, “tough guy” boyfriend that threw his drink at Beomgyu, because he feels as though every guilty fantasy is coming back to mind as he takes in your concentrated expression, your hand placed firmly on his chest for support as the other dabs at the stains in his uniform. 

You smell so good. Even though you’ve been in the restaurant just as long as him and have been around food this whole time, he’s still able to pick up on your scent with every shaky breath he takes. 

You’re wearing your glasses, too.

Beomgyu’s mind is wandering off to dangerous places; he knows he needs to get himself under control, because the danger of him popping a boner just from how close you are is a higher probability than he’d like to admit. It seems as though you’re snapping out of your trance the moment he clears his throat, your face growing hot and slightly horrified as you jump back; Beomgyu can’t help the smile that tugs at his lips at the sight, finding your embarrassment oddly endearing. 

“Sorry, got carried away,” you say, smiling shakily as you take in the way Beomgyu practically beams at you— always a sweet, nice guy, waving you off without a problem as he laughs softly.

“No, it seems to have helped,” he says, and you can’t help but notice how oddly charismatic he is even now, during this mundane interaction that has you stuttering over your words stupidly— but to be fair, how are you supposed to give him advice on how to get the stains out when he’s looking at you with the cutest god damn puppy eyes you’ve ever seen, his brown eyes round and sparkly as he listens intently to every word you say? 

“I wouldn’t have thought to do that,” he smiles, his cheeks puffing up cutely and oh, is it weird that you want to coo at how cute he is and pinch his cheeks…? 

Definitely weird, you decide, letting out a soft laugh as he tells you that he’ll try it as soon as he gets home. 

“Speaking of which, I’ll let you go; you probably don’t want to be here longer than necessary,” Beomgyu is so kind and considerate even as you tell him it’s fine and that you didn’t have any plans after work anyway. 

“I’ll let you get back to work,” you can’t help the soft laugh that escapes you as Beomgyu asks you to wish him luck, the smile he sports coy as you follow his command without any hesitation— you take this as your chance to leave before things get awkward, but a part of you itches to go back and talk to him more. 

Beomgyu’s good, you realize as you’re exiting the building, a bewildered laugh escaping you as you realize that he managed to charm you just from that short interaction. 

You get why he’s so popular. 

»»»

Any plans to go to bed early and rest are immediately thrown out the minute your phone buzzes beside you. 

You were just about to put your laptop away— just on the verge of falling asleep, until your eyes reluctantly drifted to read the words that take over your screen— it’s a Twitter notification, the username making your eyes widen as you’re scrambling to unlock your phone and read the rest. 

guiltypleasures

had a shitty shift today, let me take it out on you? https://…….

Oh. oh, oh lord… you can feel the exhaustion lifted off in an instant; suddenly, you’re wide awake, eyes widening as you quickly copy the link of his tweet into your browser— while your mind scolds you for trying to stay up and possibly ruining your sleep schedule, the other, much more sinister part of it tells you that you’re paying for a reason. 

The stream starts in five minutes. 

While you wait anxiously in your room, your hands swiftly going to your nightstand to take out some toys— your trusty vibrator and a dildo you recently bought, all because of him— Beomgyu paces around his setup, gathering his own toys and changing into something that the viewers might like; today's ensemble is a bit more bothersome than usual, but he knows how much his viewers like when he dresses up and role plays a bit with them. 

He was tired; today's shift took a toll on him, and he’d rather be fast asleep than putting on a stream— but after looking at today's earnings, he couldn’t help but feel unsatisfied with it all, deciding on impulse that he would put on a stream to make up for his lack of tips— instead, he’ll earn tips in another way. 

“Hey,” he starts quietly, sitting back in his seat as he takes a glance at his monitor, making sure his face is out of frame. The viewer count rises and comments flood in no time, all of them freaking out about how good he looks in the suit he wears; the all-black ensemble feels stifling to him, but he knows taking it off will be worth it in the end. 

Bad day today? Let us make you feel better :( 

His top tippers are all begging for his attention, desperate and needy as always as they beg for him to get started— but he feels a lot more sluggish than usual, his gloved hands caressing his thighs slowly as he reads the comments out loud. 

“Yeah, today’s shift wasn’t that great,” he speaks, his voice deep and sultry as he allows a moment to pass, reading all the comments that beg for him to use them, “I only thought about you though. Just wanted to see you.”

There he goes again— he’s no longer talking to his audience, but to you instead, closing his eyes and imagining a world where you’re in front of him, or even on the other side of this screen, one of the many faces that lusts over the way his cock begins to harden, the bulge becoming much more apparent as he lets his mind wander.

Unbeknownst to him, you are on the other side of your screen; a shy and flustered mess as you shift in your bed, watching the comments fly by as you wonder if you should join in— not that you could, anyway, your low-tier subscription excluding you from doing such things, as ridiculous as it is. 

You’re practically devouring the man on your screen with your eyes; taking in the way he’s dressed, his pretty hands covered with leather gloves as he runs them slowly over his black trousers; stopping as they run back to his hips, a hand beginning to palm at his bulge as he spreads his legs a little wider in his chair— today's setup is a bit different, along with his attitude as he seems to sweet talk the audience more than usual. 

“Seeing you is the only good part of my day,” he sighed, his free hand trailing up his chest before it stops at his tie— he’s tugging at it, loosening it and allowing it to hang around his neck as he continues, “Can’t stop thinking about how much I want you, how I’d fuck you until all you can remember is my name.”

The offer is tempting; you groan a little as you watch him begin to slide off his blazer, throwing it to the side before he’s unbuttoning his white shirt— he’s making quick work to become undressed, you notice, untucking the material and undoing his belt as the sounds of it jingling ring out in the room. 

Yet, no one knows his name— no one knows anything about him, except the tattoo that runs across his side as he slides off his shirt, the sharp, elegant lines running all along his ribs, trailing down to his hip bones and disappearing under his pants— the rest of him remaining a mystery as you’re left to lust over a nameless, faceless stranger. 

That’s probably where the appeal comes from; you’re able to imagine anything about him, from what his face looks like to what he may do when the cameras are off; you’re free to mold him into the perfect fantasy, using him and projecting onto him as you watch him slowly unzip his pants, a hand slipping under as he begins to jerk himself off teasingly, slow as always as he waits for the requests to come in— like clockwork, your eyes fall to the end of his tattoo, taking in the cute heart that rests by his hip bone, the ending of the elaborate piece that always has you wondering what it’d be like to see in person. 

“Hmm? You want more?” he says, tilting his head slightly as he smiles; it’s mocking as always, biting into his lip as he begins to roll his hips into his hand— making a show out of it, throwing his head back and letting out a breathy moan that has you shivering.

“How about you show me just how much you want it,” he sighs out, smiling evilly as tips begin to come in left and right as a response; you find the way he’s able to manipulate the audience impressive, always able to get them to blow their money on him without hesitation. 

He leans forward, towards the screen, and you’re able to admire his lips as he reads the comments, mouthing them as the lights cast a glow on his pretty, pouty mouth, his neck tempting and begging to be marked as you watch the way he displays it so teasingly. 

“Good girl,” he laughs softly, your eyes flickering to the comment section for a moment; his top tipper has spent an egregious amount on him yet again, and you listen to the way he softly begins to fulfill her request, the rest of the audience momentarily disappearing as he begins to speak to her. 

“Always such an obedient thing for me, hmm? Tell me, what do you want to see?” 

His manipulation is seamless as he watches another tip flood in; all from the same person, the amount doubled in order to get his attention past all the others that blow a measly twenty on him, nothing compared to the three hundred that is highlighted in gold, the comment momentarily pinned for the man to read it.

I want you to fuck your favorite fleshlight and use a vibrator while you think of me. Can you moan my name please? It’s—

Her comment has your eyes widening for a second; it’s bold and demanding, and the idea of requesting such a thing from the camboy in front of you is daunting as you read her request over and over— your face feels hot and you’re already taking off your sweatpants from how needy you are, wondering if the man on your screen will accept such a request.

The first two are nothing to him— in fact, it’s more on the tamer side as he already finds himself reaching for the aforementioned toys. 

The problem lies in the last request. 

He’s not one to moan names on a live stream; he usually saves it for personal requests he gets, the videos much more personal and calculated as he gets to take his time with them— so for his top tipper to request such a thing on his livestream is a bit more difficult; especially when he spends this time thinking of you. 

But then again, it’s three hundred dollars. 

“Okay then, is that what you want? Hmm?” he teases softly, purring out her name at the end as he watches the way she tips him again; it has him laughing in amusement, sitting back in his chair before he’s crossing his arms over his chest, singing out her name with a soft lilt as he watches the way she continues to pour money at him like it’s nothing. 

Soon enough, more requests come in; all with the same amount and request, hoping that they’ll be able to hear their names fall from his lips as he slowly begins to tug down his pants, raising his hips as he’s left in nothing but his underwear, the briefs straining painfully as his cock twitches, begging to be free. 

“One at a time,” he murmurs sweetly, patronizing as he mumbles that it’s her turn now, watching the way she seems to react with every purr of her name. 

The sudden trend of requests makes his stream slightly difficult; he’s always found himself to be a lot more into them when he’s mentally moaning out your name, lips ghosting over the syllables every time he’s coming undone. Instead, he’s forced to moan out the name of a stranger as he begins to palm himself slowly, even though his mind thinks back to you and the small interaction you had today. 

He feels his cock twitch at the mere thought. It’s painfully hard and won’t stop leaking as he takes it out, not needing to use any lubricant as he begins stroking it slowly, hips jumping at the feeling of the leather against his skin— and though his lips moan another’s name, his eyes remain closed, thinking about you. 

You and your meek personality, always letting guests take out their anger on you before they’re turning around and sucking up to Beomgyu— he’s always had to resist the urge to fuck them up as a response, knowing that you think no one else notices your sullied mood and your crestfallen gaze every time they seem to get away with it. 

He’s never free to comfort you. You’re both far too busy to be around each other for longer than a few minutes, and today was like a blessing as he caught you at just the right time— he would have stayed the rest of his shift back there talking to you, if only he hadn’t been playing the part of a sweet, considerate guy. 

He thinks back to how you felt against him. How, even though your actions were innocent and you were much more focused on taking out the stain of his uniform, he still felt the warmth of your hand against his chest, delicate and smaller than his as you leaned in close enough to allow himself to get a whiff of your sweet scent.

And those glasses. 

He never thought he would find himself hung up on such an item, but the way they make your eyes look big and sparkly is practically enough to make him cum on the spot. Instead, he grabs a hold of his newest fleshlight, soft and tight, just how he imagines you would be. 

It’s perverted, but as he slides his cock into the tight sleeve, groaning slightly at how he’s barely able to push through, he imagines that it’s you. His mind begins to wonder what it would be like if you were above him right now, your thighs encasing his and your pussy leaking onto his cock as he fucked into you without abandon. 

As he turns on his vibrator, running it along his balls and letting out pathetic moans, he imagines what it would be like to use it on you while he fucked you, imagining the way your tits would bounce and your eyes would squeeze shut as he made you cum until you were unable to hold yourself up. 

On the other side of the screen, you imagine the same thing. Your legs are shaking and you’re fighting to keep your eyes open as you follow the pace he’s set, pressing your vibrator firmly against your clit and letting out weak whimpers at the sensation. You try to ignore the way he calls out the same name over and over, wondering instead what it would be like to hear your name from his lips— the sound is ringing throughout your mind the moment you imagine it, burying your face into your pillow as you increase the intensity of your toy. 

“Let me fill you up, want you dripping with my cum,” he growls out, the sloppy sounds of his thrusts only spurring you on as your thighs close around your hand, hips grinding into your dildo as you sink your teeth into your lip ruthlessly— it’s almost enough to draw blood as you watch the way he cums into his toy, hips continuing to rut into the it even long after he’s come, a white ring forming at the base as he turns the vibrator off from the overstimulation. 

“_— Shit,” Beomgyu almost slipped up for a second, proceeding to moan out his requested name repeatedly as a distraction. 

And you know you’re imagining it, but you’re briefly coming undone after that, your pussy tightening against your dildo and your legs shaking as you run your vibrator along your clit, imagining that it’s him inside you, that he’s currently spilling his load in your cunt— your mind swearing that you almost heard your name slip from his lips for a second— and it isn’t until you recover from your orgasm, the sound of another name leaving his lips repeatedly making you come to, that you realize it was your brain playing trick on you to help you get off. 

But you weren’t imagining things. 

Beomgyu hopes his audience didn’t pick up on his small mistake, but he’s relieved to see that they’re none the wiser as they continue to request to hear their name next.

“Let’s see…” he says, and you’re barely able to keep your eyes open as you watch the way he leans towards the camera again, reading requests off the monitor as he grinds his hips into his toy absentmindedly throughout it.

He’s barely getting started.

In turn, so are you. 

»»»

Beomgyu is the sweetest guy you’ve ever met. 

After your brief conversation at the restaurant, you quickly found yourself talking to him more often. 

It turned into him sitting next to you during the one class you shared, your friendship growing stronger day by day as you got to know him better. 

He acts like a puppy; he’s so sweet and kind, his voice soft and endearing every time he spoke to you— and, like a stark contrast to the flirty and outgoing guy you saw during your shifts at the restaurant, he was very shy, ever the gentleman as he always treated you with nothing but kindness. 

“Good morning,” Beomgyu hums, sitting in the seat next to yours before he’s placing down a cup of coffee, “I got this for you. I already finished mine, but I thought you might like some too.”

Sweet gestures like these were common with him; despite your insistence that he really didn’t need to, he always did it anyway, ever the charming man as he sent you a cute smile that would have you unable to say no. 

“Hey, I heard you’re friends with Yeonjun?” you ask, reluctantly accepting the drink after he insisted that you didn’t need to feel bad; your lips are curving into a small smile as you take a drink, stomach flipping at the realization that it was your usual order— you’re surprised he was able to remember it after the first time you got coffee together. 

Beomgyu nods in confirmation. You’re a bit surprised by his answer, unable to see the two be friends due to their contrasting personalities. You can tell that he’s curious as to why you’re asking as he pouts slightly— a habit he always does when he’s confused— and you’re quick to swallow down your drink and give him context.

“He’s having a party this weekend. I was wondering if you’re going?” you say, and Beomgyu feels his stomach drop slightly; not because you were going— well, not entirely, at least— but because if you were going, you’d definitely end up seeing a different side of him. And after seeing how fond you are of his puppy-like behavior, he dreads seeing your reaction to a much more reckless side of him.

“I… think so,” he says sheepishly, wondering what kind of excuse he should make to not go— but he pauses, seeing the way you pout at him, grabbing his arm desperately as you lean into him as you plead.

“You should go— pleeeasee? Yeonjun’s parties are super over the top and he always invites hella people, I don’t wanna be there alone.” 

You have this man wrapped around your finger; with one look at your face, your gaze sweet and pleading as you cutely pout at him expectantly, he finds himself agreeing, unable to fight back a smile as he watches the way you cheer triumphantly, quieting down the moment the lecture starts. 

Beomgyu will definitely have to be careful this weekend— but seeing you will be worth it, even if he’s risking the chance of potentially changing the way you’ll view him forever. 

»»»

You have yet to see Beomgyu. 

The party started hours ago, yet you’ve only been present for a few as you’ve already both greeted and lost Yeonjun, forced to mingle with people you barely know as you all hang out in his backyard— because lord knows how packed and stuffy the place would’ve been if he held it inside. 

You currently find yourself playing cup pong, teaming with the girl in your communications class as you go against two strangers— Yunjin is much friendlier and outgoing when she’s drunk, cheering you on and yelling triumphantly with every ball you get in— you’ve barely had anything to drink as a result, and Yunjin is eager to fix that as she hands you a small shot cup; you’re hesitant at first, only accepting it after she explains that it isn’t strong at all, the soju mixed in with other things as she tells you you’ll barely feel it. 

It’s not that you’re a lightweight that would get drunk off one shot, but you’d rather not get shit-faced when you have yet to find Beomgyu; your eyes scan over the place once more after you take the shot, Yunjin’s cheers falling deaf onto your ears as you allow the team in front of you have their turn. 

“Drinking already?”

Beomgyu has snuck up on you successfully— you’re flinching in surprise as you feel his hand fall gently on the small of your back, leaning in close so he’s properly able to speak to you over the music. 

Beomgyu feels as though looking at you is a sin; he’s forcing himself to keep his eyes off you, listening to the way you ramble into his ear about how happy you are to see him, your head tilting back and exposing the column of your neck to him to get him to hear you. 

“You’re not wearing your glasses,” he comments, oddly hung up on it as he watches the way your smile only widens.

“Yeah, didn’t feel like it,” you say lightheartedly, leaning back against Beomgyu and finding comfort in the position that allows the two of you to speak over the booming music.

Unbeknownst to you, he takes this moment to drink in your appearance. The white, oversized button-up you wear is left completely open as it drapes over your figure, the light blue denim shorts entirely too tempting as they ride up your thighs, much too short to even cover you properly— but of course, that’s the look you were going for, leaving your bottoms unbuttoned and folded down as you allow your bikini to peek through— the color is flattering on your skin, and Beomgyu wonders if he’ll be strong enough to resist you, eyes flickering over to the pool that’s filled with plenty of people as a distraction. 

“You wanna go in?” you ask, and Beomgyu realizes you’ve followed his line of sight, shaking his head quickly in response. You laugh, turning around briefly as you listen to the sounds of Yunjin telling you that you have to drink— you freely down the shot in the plastic cup this time, much more at ease now that Beomgyu is around— and turn back to him, pulling at his shirt slightly as you take in his attire.

“Come on, you’re definitely dressed for the part!” 

And that much was true— though he realized halfway through his drive here that doing so would not be a good idea, especially if he wanted to keep up this cute, innocent act of his.

“It’s too full right now,” he says, his excuse valid as you study the pool for a moment— only to agree, turning back to the game as you tell Beomgyu to cheer for you with a cheeky smile. 

It doesn’t take much longer for you to get tipsy— all because you made the mistake of trusting Yunjin to play properly during her turn, missing entirely and proceeding to get the two of you obliterated after she went against one of the guys on the opposite team (Jake, he later told you.)— but you’re quick to make sure to bring Beomgyu down with you, handing him every other shot you get as you tell him he’s now on your team.

What you don’t seem to realize is that Beomgyu is not a lightweight— far from it, watching with amusement as you slowly begin to get tipsy, your mouth loosening and your personality becoming much more outgoing after losing the game to Jake and his friend— three times in a row. 

“Again?” you ask, laughing at the way Yunjin yells in agreement— Beomgyu has to tug on your shirt to get you away, telling you that it’s definitely not a good idea to go again, especially with someone as uncoordinated as Yunjin. 

“Why didn’t you play with me then?” you say, leaning against him as you smile up at him prettily; he’s leading you away from the table and towards the grass, over to where a small campfire is lit, plenty of chairs scattered about as the music becomes louder in this area. 

“You don’t like games?” you ask him, stumbling to a stop and tugging at his shirt to stop with you, just so he’s able to hear you better. Coyly, you smile, your eyes twinkling mischievously as you lean in to speak to him quietly, “Don’t you wanna play with me?” 

Your words are fairly innocent— but your delivery is not, and it has Beomgyu sputtering in surprise as he wonders how he should respond to such a random advance— though he doesn’t need to in the end, watching as you break character and laugh at your own antics, perking up immediately as you listen to the song that’s playing. 

“Oh, I love this song!” 

You’re dancing carelessly to the song without a second thought, pulling Beomgyu in and laughing at the way he seems reluctant to let loose; it’s probably the alcohol in your system that’s making you act like such an idiot, leaning against him and smiling at the way he seems adamant to avoid your gaze. 

“You know, I just realized that we’re matching!” you laugh, tugging at the collar of his white button-up before you’re glancing down; it’s tucked neatly into his denim shorts, and your smile is only growing wider as you look back up at him, “we look like a couple or something.”

Your words affect him much more than he’d like to admit— but he has no time to dwell on it, eyes looking past you and at Yeonjun, who walks straight toward the two of you with a grin stuck on his face. 

“Hey, why didn’t you tell me you were here?” Yeonjun yells, grabbing your attention as you’re turning to greet Yeonjun; you’re bubbly and seem to find everything funny as you giggle slightly, waving at him happily before you’re stepping away from Beomgyu. 

“I couldn’t find you,” Beomgyu mumbles, watching the way Yeonjun slings an arm around your shoulders casually— he feels oddly angered at the sight, unsure why it irritates him so much to see the two of you act so close. 

“Didn’t know you two were friends,” Yeonjun says, and he watches as you begin to ramble about your history with Beomgyu with a small smile— scanning your outfit, he frowns. 

“You haven’t gotten in the pool yet?” Yeonjun asks, raising a brow at your entirely dry figure; you shake your head, which only makes him tilt his head in confusion, “I thought you said that’s the only reason you were coming?”

“Well, I just haven’t gotten the chance to,” you say sheepishly, the shy smile on your face quickly turning to one of confusion the moment Yeonjun hugs you; he’s got you tight, and you’re stumbling along with him as you begin questioning what he’s doing, your eyes widening the moment you peek over his shoulder— you’re heading straight to the pool, the volume of your yells rising significantly as you begin to struggle against your friend, yelling at Beomgyu to come to your rescue. 

(It’s all for dramatic effect. Yeonjun laughs at the way you pretend to struggle against him, and he pretends he doesn’t hear your laugh of joy the moment he falls over the edge, letting go of you in time and forcing the two of you into the water.)

You’re pleasantly surprised to find that the water isn’t freezing; you personally thank Yeonjun’s heating system as you come up for air, wiping at your face and adjusting your hair as you begin to splash Yeonjun, insulting him for being such a bully. 

Your movements are immediately stopping the moment you spot Beomgyu at the edge— Yeonjun is quick to leave, sending you a small wink (the term “wink” used loosely) before he’s off to find his next target—he’s taken his shoes off and he looks more than ready to jump in, and you can’t help but laugh sweetly at his concern before you realize that you should probably take off your shoes as well.

“You okay?” He asks you, watching the way you cringe as you take off your shoes, tossing them over the edge and leaving them to dry as you swim to where he stands. 

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you smile, watching the way he seems hesitant to do anything— to get in or leave, you’re unsure. A second passes before an evil thought pops into your head, taking notice of your equally soaked clothes that remain stuck on your body.

“Oh. Hey, could you hold this?” you begin, shedding off your shirt before you’re bundling it into a ball, holding out the fabric for him— he crouches down, arm reaching out for your shirt— and you seize your moment, both hands grabbing onto him and tugging as hard as you can. 

And Beomgyu, in his unguarded state, falls in immediately. 

The laugh you let out is pure evil as you watch him fall in, flailing for a second before he’s coming up for air— and honestly, Beomgyu can’t even be mad, at least not when you’re laughing so hard, your face lit up as you take in the way his hair is completely flat on his head. 

“Sorry. Couldn’t help it,” you say, but you don’t look sorry at all as you swim over to your shirt that’s now sunk into the bottom of the pool. You’re diving down to get it, quick to throw it over the edge and by your shoes before you’re tugging off your shorts. You’re glancing back at Beomgyu, relieved to see he doesn’t look angry at all, when you spot something peculiar. 

“Woah, what’s that?” you ask, approaching Beomgyu eagerly as he’s quick to follow your gaze. His cheeks are on fire and his hands are quick to fly onto his ribs, turning away from your curious hands and even more curious gaze as he stutters out an excuse. 

“It’s nothing.” That’s probably one of the lamest things Beomgyu has ever said, and you’re not believing him for a second as your eyes widen at his sudden change in behavior. 

“Is it a tattoo?” you ask, trying to get a peek through the cracks of his fingers; but the water makes everything blurry, unable to get the details of it before you’re humming appreciatively. “Hmm. That’s cool— I didn’t know that was such a common spot to get tattooed.”

“Is it?” he asks, and suddenly, he doesn’t seem to want to hide it anymore. Your curious gaze and awed compliments have him smiling, raising a brow as he feels himself become more confident— the idea that you of all people would judge him seems ridiculous now.

“Who else do you know that has a tattoo here?” you’re late to process the question— only because your eyes are widening as he admits that it is a tattoo, the words flying out of your mouth before you can truly process if it’s a good idea. 

“I don’t know. I’ve just seen it online, I guess.” Of course, this could mean many things— but it means one thing to you, and you’re practically biting your tongue from the sheer terror that you inadvertently admitted to a guilty, secret pleasure of yours.

“Online?” he asks, and you try to not look suspicious as you choose to simply remain quiet and nod. 

“Yeah, like on Pinterest and stuff,” you add, hoping that it’s enough to prove your innocence (to yourself) as you watch Beomgyu nod along to your words. 

“Aren’t your clothes weighing you down?” you ask, eyeing the way he’s barely moved with a small smile, “or like, are you not wearing anything underneath?”

Most of the people here came with their swimsuits underneath— some just opted to strip to their underwear, which is why you didn’t feel alarmed to find people stripping their layers in order to jump into the pool. 

Though, now that you think about it, you feel a bit bad for forcing Beomgyu to get in without much of a warning. Your concerns are quickly soothed, however, when Beomgyu shakes his head, hands coming up to unbutton his shirt before he’s laughing softly at your words. 

“I was wearing my shorts underneath these,” he confesses, your eyes widening as you find yourself going silent— because wow, was Beomgyu always this ripped?

You feel odd as you watch him strip, sliding off his shirt as most of his torso remains underwater; he’s slowly making his way to where you stand by the edge, and you can feel your heart stopping as you take in the look in his eyes. 

Dark. Dangerous. Tempting. You think you’re imagining things as you look away, gulping heavily as you feel yourself sobering suddenly. He’s throwing his shirt in the direction that your pile of clothes lie, and you feel oddly embarrassed by the way you have to look away as he strips his bottoms off as well. 

You’re only glancing back in time to see him hover out of the pool for a second, his upper body coming out of the water as he takes a moment to lay out both your clothing properly. 

Holy shit. 

Was it common for people to have the same tattoo? It surely was, right? Those are the only things that are going through your mind as you observe Beomgyu’s tattoo, taking in the familiarity of each line as your eyes drift down to his v-line— your eyes spot the small, perfect heart that rests right at his pubic bone.

Oh god. Oh god, oh god oh god, you think, trying your best to not lose your shit and melt in a puddle of horror and embarrassment as you realize that Beomgyu has the exact tattoo as guiltypleasures.

It had to be a popular tattoo. Or maybe it was a reference to something, or a drawing a tattoo artist put out to let other people use— anything, it had to be anything else than the conclusion your mind was terrified of making, meeting Beomgyu’s gaze shyly as you realize that he’s caught you staring, hard.

“It’s pretty,” you breathe out, unsure you can trust your voice as you watch Beomgyu sink back into the pool, “Is it… a reference to something?”

Please say yes. Please say yes.

“Thanks,” he starts, leaving you on edge as he takes a moment to inspect his tattoo— running his fingertips over it, tracing over the delicate lines in a way that has you gripping onto the edge of the pool, “and no, it’s not. I designed it myself.”

You’re gonna pass out.

“Really?” you grit out, hoping he can’t pick up on the tension of your voice as you smile, albeit forced, “Like, it’s one of a kind?”

“Yup,” he grins, staring down at his tattoo with a proud look on his face, “One of a kind. My tattoo artist didn’t even post it, upon my request.”

You’re gonna cry. Maybe you’ll scream, or even sink into the pool and try to drown yourself. 

Because Choi Beomgyu, your closest friend for the past few months and the man you may or may have not been beginning to crush on, is guiltypleasures, the man you lust after every night and fucking pay to watch. 

You know they say that quiet guys are the freakiest, but this is too fucking much. 

“That’s so cool,” you say, sinking into the pool so the water is up to your mouth, hoping that you won’t blurt out any more stupidities as you stare off into the distance, attempting to let this new information settle in. 

“Hey, you okay?” he asks, and you hate how attentive Beomgyu has become— even more because everything is starting to click, his husky and deep voice a replica of your stupid camboy’s, your body reacting involuntarily to the sound of it as you simply nod softly. 

“Mhmm,” you hum out, coming out of the water a bit so you can speak, “I think those drinks from earlier fucked up my stomach— I should go home.”

“Oh,” Beomgyu says, and you feel awful for the way he’s become confused at your sudden shift in mood, “Are you sure you’ll be okay driving—?”

“I Ubered here,” you mumble, oddly embarrassed at your words, “cause I knew I’d probably drink a lot.” 

“Well then let me take you home,” he insists, ever the gentleman as you try to say that he shouldn’t, that he should just stay and enjoy the party. 

“It’s dangerous to call an Uber at this hour though,” he continues, his stupid fucking puppy eyes taking a toll on your resolve as you bite your lip, “Plus, I only really came to this party because of you.”

God, what the hell was this behavior?! This innocent, shy, and sweet Beomgyu was a complete one-eighty— scratch that— was an entirely different fucking person than the one that always talked down at you at night, spilling filth like it was in his nature and treating you like you were worthless.

It was a bit terrifying as you watched the way he remained entirely oblivious to the Earth-shattering realization, getting out of the pool and reaching out to help you out with a sweet smile. 

After a second, you take it. 

You feel so awkward as you gather your clothes; you’re jumpy and you’re sure Beomgyu has picked up on it as he eyes you from time to time, watching as you wring out your clothes as much as you can before you’re slipping on your shirt, your shorts left in your hand as you avoid Beomgyu’s eyes entirely. 

“I have a few blankets in my car— you should use those to keep yourself warm,” he says softly, looking back at you and frowning at the way you only nod with a tense smile. 

Was he wrong about you? Were you lying when you reacted positively to his tattoo? Beomgyu has no idea why something as simple as a tattoo would change the way you treat him entirely, but he’s determined to get to the bottom of this as you enter his car, entirely stiff as you wrap one of his aforementioned blankets around yourself. 

“Hey, did something happen tonight?” He asks you halfway through his drive, licking his lips nervously as he watches the way you jump in your seat, not expecting his question at all as you remain silent for a second.

“Uhm, no?” you say, though you seem unsure of your own answer as you wrap the blankets a little tighter around yourself, “I’m telling you, it was probably the drinks— I didn’t think my stomach would be so sensitive tonight.”

Your explanation is entirely plausible, but Beomgyu doesn’t believe it as he watches the way you remain tense, his car slowing to a stop as the two of you wait at the stoplight in an awkward silence. 

“You’re lying,” Beomgyu says, deciding that it’s better to just be bold instead of tiptoeing around the subject, “Is it because of my tattoo?”

Your lips press together. 

“It is,” he says, and he feels an unexpected wave of disappointment and anger wash over him, “did something that small put you off that much?”

“That’s not it,” you say, your heart pounding against your chest and your body heating up as you realize that you’ve upset him— and greatly, because you’re able to see the way his brows knit together and his hand tightens on the steering wheel as he begins to drive again. 

Did he think you were judging him? That you thought less of him because of such a small thing? 

“Then what is it?” he insists, and you’re mortified to see that you’re stuck in traffic, victim to Beomgyu’s sharp gaze that demands answers, “Cause you’ve been acting weird since I showed it to you.”

“I’ve seen it before,” you mutter quietly, sinking into your seat from the humiliation, “I recognized it. Your tattoo.”

Beomgyu pauses. Then he thinks of the many times he’s had his shirt ride up when he’s around you, from stretching to taking off his hoodie and having his undershirt get pulled up along with it.

“Okay?”

“Like. Online.”

That’s enough to leave him silent. Stupefied, even. One glance at you and your body language is enough to confirm that it’s exactly what he’s thinking, your posture so small that you look like you wish you could disappear. 

“You’ve—“ he swallows, wondering what else to say as traffic begins moving again, “like… Twitter—?”

“Your streams.” 

Fuck. Fuck, oh fuck, Beomgyu needs to get the fuck out of the car this instant, because his dick is already hardening and he can feel his brain short-circuiting at your words— you watch his streams. 

In your mind, you feel as though you’ve completely dug a hole for yourself— Beomgyu is probably horrified at your confession, but it’s not as though you knew it was him, or that you had any malicious intent, or that—!

All Beomgyu can think of is how he shouldn’t park the car in the middle of the road and fuck you stupid. 

“Did you watch them a lot?” he asks you, his voice eerily quiet and stable, and oh no he’s interrogating you right now, this is the end for you.

“Yeah,” you say, deciding to be completely transparent now that you’ve decided to tell the truth, “I’m sorry.” 

Is it possible to come untouched like this? Beomgyu might just find out, because the way your voice is so meek and shy and guilty has him biting down on his lip, his mind growing foggier and his foot pressing down on the gas pedal a little harder as he begins to weave through lanes. 

“You were a subscriber then,” he says calmly, and you feel as though he’s trying to humiliate you on purpose as you nod your head in admittance— unbeknownst to you, that’s exactly what he’s doing, enjoying the way he’s breaking you down from just a few questions with sick pleasure. 

“How much money did you spend on me then?” You’re finding his line of questioning a bit odd at this point, but you refuse to look up from your lap as you find yourself answering anyways. 

“I was just a low-tier subscriber…” you say, and it feels even more humiliating to admit that you cheaped out on him— what the hell was wrong with you?

“Low-tier? Not even a single tip?” he repeats, and you don’t seem to register the way he pouts at you until it’s far too late.

Stopping at a red light, he grabs your chin, turning your face roughly so you’re looking at him— and he’s back, the man behind the screen, except this time you can see the sheer pity that fills his gaze as he speaks to you as though you’re lower than him.

“How are you gonna make it up to me now?”

»»»

God. Fuck. Are you dreaming? You think you might pass out.

“I know, I know I said I wouldn’t stream tonight— shouldn’t you just be happy I’m here?”

Your stomach is twisted in knots and you feel small as you attempt to take in everything properly— Beomgyu’s setup, the same room you’ve seen countless times before— you’re able to see it all, from his large computer monitors, his filming camera, to his grandiose bed and the insane amount of toys he keeps on standby. 

You shift restlessly on your feet, entirely bare save for a shirt that Beomgyu let you borrow— another white button-up, the very same one that he loved to wear when he dressed up, now hanging from your figure as he allowed the two of you to freshen up the moment you got to his home. 

Nervously, you had left the shirt completely buttoned up; you watched from behind his camera as he continued to sweet talk his viewers, dressed comfortably in a sweater and sweats, his attire a complete contrast to your own. 

“You’re happy to see me? I don’t believe you,” he smiles, and you feel as though you’re back to being a faceless member of his stream as you press your thighs together, able to hear the way notifications pop up on his computer, all of them signifying a new tip. 

“You know, today’s a pretty special occasion actually,” he begins, pausing to see his comments and the reactions within them, “you’re curious? Do you wanna try something new with me?”

Yes. It’s the only thing he sees in his comments, and he lets out a soft laugh before he’s turning back to his camera.

Then, he’s looking past it.

“Come here, baby.”

You knew this was coming— you agreed to this, for crying out loud, but you still feel as though your legs are made of jello as you hesitate, biting your lip before your eyes are widening nervously, the safe word the two of you established beforehand running through your mind like a mantra you mustn’t forget. 

“Come on, you don’t want to keep them waiting, do you?” he asks, eyes flickering over to his screen, watching the way everyone seems to go haywire from his words, “See? They’re curious, they want to see you.”

You’re taking your first step towards the camera— then another, and another, until you’re walking past the setup, your back facing the camera as you make your way to where he sits at the edge of the bed, unsure of what to do as you remain frozen in front of him.

“What, are you nervous?” he asks, and he’s only able to let out a mean laugh the moment you’re nodding in response, unable to use your voice properly— that’ll change soon, he thinks, reaching for your hands and guiding them to his shoulders. 

“Don’t be,” he whispers, aiming for your thighs next as he’s tugging at them, pleased with the way you let him mold you to his desired position, your thighs on either side of his as you hover over him pathetically, “I know they’ll love you.”

Neither of your full faces can be seen— but the audience can definitely see the way he captures your lips in a harsh kiss, filled with nothing but pure need as he finally gets to feel you properly— you feel as though you’re about to run out air when he finally pulls away, laughing as he feels the way you buttoned every single button of the shirt he gave you. 

“Now why would you do that?” he whispers against your lips, and your fingers dig into his shoulders pathetically as you watch him rip it open— the viewers are going wild at the sight, tipping ridiculous amounts of money just so they can get Beomgyu to see their requests; curiously your eyes drift to his monitor.

You practically collapse at the things you read on the screen.

Finger her. Eat her out. Use a vibrator on her, tie her up, breed her until she can’t walk straight, use a dildo on her— 

The horror comes from the fact that Beomgyu is clearly considering doing all of it.

“What do you think baby?” he asks you, pressing his hand on the small of your back and forcing you to arch into him, your ass perking out and your cunt left to be entirely displayed as he trails his hand up your back, lifting your shirt along with it as he allows the viewers to get a good look at you.

“Anything that piques your interest?” he whispers, your head buried in his shoulder as you shake from the embarrassment of it all, “or…”

You jolt at the way his hand lands a sharp smack on your ass. He’s quick to soothe the area, smiling at the way he takes in the small whimper you let out, burying your face deeper into his shoulder and arching more in response. He lands another one, much more harsher than the last as his hand immediately drifts to your pussy, spreading you for the camera and watching the way you practically glisten under the light. 

“Should I decide how I get to use you for myself?”

He’s a bit surprised to find that you’re quick to nod at his second request, much too shy to even lift your head from where it rests as your fingers dig into his skin. 

He smiles, his eyes drifting back to the monitor as he begins reading over their requests. 

“Hmm, are you shy, princess?” he asks, fingers trailing along your slit, feeling the way your hole flutters at the feeling, wanting nothing more than to feel him inside as you whine quietly, nodding at his words.

“But you’re so fucking wet, and we haven’t even done anything,” slowly, his fingers slip inside— you’re both moaning at the feeling, and Beomgyu thinks that he might just be the one to cum as he feels the way you stretch around his fingers. 

“God, you’re so tight,” he groans, beginning to test out the waters by scissoring you— spreading you out for the camera, watching over your shoulder as your arousal practically leaks out; he gulps, unable to keep his eyes away from the sight as he sighs.

“Feels so soft and warm,” he mutters, placing a kiss on your temple before he’s reaching for something off-screen— the box of toys, you realize, forced to keep your face buried in his shoulder in an attempt to not show your face to his audience. 

“Just like I thought you would be,” he says, smiling against your skin as he murmurs the words into your ear— just for you to hear, not for the thousands of people who are currently watching the stream.

“Do you know what I thought about every time I went live?” he asks, sitting up and shifting so that you’re back in position, shaking your head softly as you feel his fingers begin to circle your entrance. 

“You.” the stretch you suddenly feel has you moaning pathetically, the first sound the viewers are able to hear as the comments begin to fly past— your legs are shaking at the feeling of him slowly pushing the silicone dildo into your pussy, thick and long as you squeeze your eyes shut, feeling tears prick at your eyes from how full you feel.

“I thought of you. Every time.” 

Beomgyu’s eyes are dark as his hand grabs at your ass, spreading your cheeks and showing off the way the dildo begins disappearing into your tight cunt, your arousal already beginning to drip down the toy with every slow thrust of his. 

“Wished you were there every time I would stream. I thought about fucking you the way I would fuck my toys,” his thrusts begin speeding up; you’re a moaning mess against him as you push your ass back, showcasing yourself perfectly and pushing up against the toy that he continues to ram into you— you’re jolting back into him with every thrust, your hands beginning to cramp with how hard you’re holding on to him.

“I would always moan your name too, did you ever notice?”

Your mind goes back to the time you thought you heard it— and, unexpectedly, you’re coming undone, reaching your peak as you respond with a pathetic yes…! The realization that it had all been real much more overwhelming than you thought. 

Beomgyu continues to fuck the toy into you even long after you’re done coming; you’re a whimpering, crying mess against him, the stimulation making your mind muddled as you quietly attempt to get him to stop. 

“Hmm? What do you want baby?” he asks, lips trailing down your neck and to your shoulders, where he begins to slip off your shirt so that you’re more exposed. He remains fully clothed as he begins sucking bruises into your skin, following one of his requests to mark up your pretty skin— his hair falls over his face, covering him momentarily as he begins drifting along your body carelessly.

It’s too much— yet, it’s not enough to have you using your safe word, and the fact makes Beomgyu smile as he bottoms out the toy inside you, grinding it into your pathetic pussy as he watches the way a ring of your cum begins to form around the base. 

“Come on, talk to me. We’re waiting,” you’re hesitant to speak— that much is clear, especially when you know how much traction this stream is currently getting, the sound of tips constant as you shake your head in defeat. 

“No? Okay then,” your shirt is being slipped off, leaving you naked as you wince slightly at the feeling of your garment being removed. Once again, Beomgyu is moving you around, and you’re facing the camera now as your legs are pried open by his own, the toy still stuffed inside you as you sit on Beomgyu’s lap— right on his hard cock, whining softly as you feel him begin to hold your hips down, grinding into you for some release. 

“Don’t wanna use your words? Don’t wanna say anything to me or the viewers?” he tries again, eyes narrowing at the way you remain disobedient and shake your head, laying back against him as you pant softly.

“You’re not gonna thank our viewers for wanting me to please you, you fucking whore?” his hands are swift, and before you realize what he’s doing, your hands are cuffed behind your back, the fuzzy feeling reminding you of the cuffs he uses on himself sometimes. 

“Fine. You wanna be ungrateful, stay quiet?” every sound that leaves your lips is unsure and soft, barely able to reach the microphone of the camera as Beomgyu scoffs at you. “Then stay fucking quiet. I don’t wanna hear a single word from you, understand?”

He doesn’t let you respond— of course he wouldn’t let you— but the way your mouth falls open suggests that you almost went against his command, the vibrator that he now pressed onto your clit making your legs shake with the sudden stimulation, threatening to close before Beomgyu’s own pried you back open swiftly. 

“Look at you. Like a bitch in heat, only thinking about yourself,” he growls, his other hand beginning to thrust the toy back into you at a harsh pace, listening to the sounds of your arousal and the toy smacking against your skin with a satisfied groan, “Do you have any idea how many people wish they were in your place, wish they could be getting fucked stupid instead of having to sit and watch as I do it to you?”

He pauses. Then, he turns up the intensity of the vibrator with a cruel laugh. 

“You would fucking know,” he seethes, taking in the way you writhe against him pathetically, biting at your lip to keep quiet as your hands struggle behind your back, “shit, can’t you hear how pathetic you sound? I bet you were a lot louder when you watched me, just another of my useless viewers that wish that I would fuck you— that I would even fucking acknowledge you.”

Everything that happens next is all a blur— your mind is foggy and you’re coming undone as you feel Beomgyu bite down on your neck, unable to hold back the pure keen of pleasure that rips through you, a string of unintelligible sounds flowing out of you desperately as you cream around the toy, feeling tears sting your eyes the moment Beomgyu decides to turn the intensity up again.

“Take it. I know you can,” he laughs purely because he knows that you have yet to use your safe word. It’s even worse because he’s right, the overstimulation fogging your mind and making you melt in his arms, still able to trust him even if your mind isn’t entirely there.

After a moment, the vibrator is turned off— you can hear him toss it to the side before he’s pulling the dildo out of your aching cunt, your body twitching at the sudden feeling before your cum is oozing out, dripping all over Beomgyu’s sweats and onto his sheets as he merely laughs at you. 

You’re being turned around again— you feel woozy as you cling to Beomgyu, barely capable of hovering over him as he simply looks up at you, his eyes holding that same, innocent puppy-like look that got you trapped in his clutches in the first place.

“I feel so stuffy,” he pouts, tilting his head up at you as you simply whine incoherently in response, “I know baby. Won’t you help me out?” 

It takes you a second to even register his request, your hands suddenly freed by him before you finally realize what he asked; your hands are slow and clumsy as you reach for the hem of his sweater, barely able to tug it up before he’s helping you out— your hands land on his shoulders once more for stability, your gaze falling on his chest and trailing down curiously. 

And there it is. The very tattoo that got you into this mess, though this time you’re free to gawk at it, not paying attention to the way Beomgyu realized he caught you staring until he’s grabbing your hand, placing it on his chest and trailing it down, allowing you to feel him up as he shudders slightly at the feeling.

Your fingers trace over the tattoo. All the way down, following every elaborate line until you’re stopped by the hem of his pants, hands immediately slipping under before you’re tugging them off, pulling off his boxers too as you feel him lift his hips, left just as bare as you before he smiles. 

You feel his cock poking at your entrance, painfully hard as he begins to rub it against your slit; teasing you with the tip, looking over your shoulder to see what his viewers may be saying. 

“What do you think?” He asks, pushing his tip into your cunt before he’s pulling back out. The action has you whining hopelessly, and Beomgyu has to take a second to recollect his resolve, pausing all movements in order to not come then and there.

“Should I fuck her? Does she deserve it?” He asks, looking over at you, cooing softly at the way your eyes remain glassy and fucked out, “Don’t cry. You don’t deserve to cry, not when you’ve been so ungrateful to our viewers.”

A tip catches his attention, and he’s briefly scanning over the amount and request before he’s biting back a smile.

“See? Even though you haven’t said a word to them, they still want to see me fuck you,” he says, taking your hands off his shoulders and leaving you to wobble momentarily as he places your cuffs back on. 

“Aren’t they the sweetest?”

You’re barely able to process what’s going on— all you know is that your position changes within seconds, and your face is buried into the mattress while your ass is up in the air, your legs shaky as you’re barely able to hold yourself up; luckily for you, Beomgyu is there to help, hands grabbing onto your hips before he’s making you lean back. 

His cock is poking at your entrance, and he’s already able to feel the way your cunt tries to suck him in as he passes his tip along your entrance, left entranced with the way you look under him, a complete, ruined mess as you quietly whine out to him, your voice muffled from where your face remained in his sheets.

It’s cute, really, the way you’re able to focus so hard on keeping your face hidden— if you lifted your head now, every single viewer on his screen would be able to drink up your expression as he fucked you— the thought irritates Beomgyu.

He’ll just have to make sure to fuck you until you’re too weak to move. 

“God, you’re such a brat,” he groans out, entering you slowly and feeling the way you clamp onto him dangerously; even with how wet you are, he finds it difficult to fuck you, gritting his teeth and taking a moment where he merely concentrates on not coming inside you then and there. 

“Stop fucking squeezing like that— ah— shit—,” it seems as though your pussy has him going stupid, unable to form a coherent sentence as he slowly pulls out— the whine you let out is long and lethal, so desperate and carnal that Beomgyu finds himself losing control; tightening his hold on your hips, he begins to fuck into you without a care.

“Such a good little pussy,” he grits out, watching the way your ass bounces against him with every thrust, “fuck, wish you’d let me fuck you sooner— would’ve made you mine, wouldn’t be able to get enough of you— god, fuck—!” 

The way you tighten at his words is dangerous. He’s cursing and talking down like he always does, but this time, it’s just for you. The very thought is enough to have you clenching around him again, mouth agape and drooling against his sheets as your sounds get louder. 

Another tip rings through— the same person from before, repeating the only part of their previous request that Beomgyu has yet to fulfill. 

Won’t she say thank you?

The words have him stuttering out a laugh, unable to help the way he moans in between. His thrusts slow, and he’s bottoming out inside you before his motions are nothing but a slow grind, rutting his hips into your aching pussy while he reaches for something off-screen. 

Your whines and soft complaints at the sudden change of pace are brief— because soon after a familiar buzzing sound is filling your ears, and before you can react, the same vibrator form before is pressed against your clit on the highest setting. 

“Gyuuuuu…!” you whine out, long and desperate and incoherent as Beomgyu grabs at your cuffs, using them as leverage to make you slam back into him. His thrusts are brutal and the sound of skin against skin is enough rivalry to the buzzing of the toy as he begins to use the last of his energy to fuck you to your orgasm, watching as the chat buzzes with excitement from your sudden word.

What? What’d she say?? Was that his name? omg?!

“Do you think you deserve to come?” he sneers, his voice gruff as you shake your head, knowing damn well that you haven’t been perfectly compliant to him like he wanted you to be, especially now that you may have just slipped up and let out a personal fact about him.

“Exactly,” he continues, his thrusts toning down in speed, but not intensity— he pulls out to the tip with every thrust, only to slam back into you and have you jolt forward from the harshness of his pace; the vibrator that was once relentless on your clit is now hovering mere centimeters from you, taunting you as all stimulation becomes insignificant to what it was before.

“Maybe, if you’re good for me, I’ll let you come,” he begins, watching the way you can only nod eagerly against the sheets, your hands struggling against your cuffs— he’s holding your hand at the sight, fingers interlocking as he watches you grip onto his hand with both of yours tightly.

“Will you be good for me? Are you gonna listen to whatever the fuck I ask you to do?” he says, his voice hardening at the end as he looks at you expectantly— a second passes before you’re nodding again. 

“My viewers have been so patient with you. The only reason you got all this was because they wanted it— if it were up to me, I would’ve dumped my load in you already and left.” 

That’s a lie— the biggest fucking lie Beomgyu has ever told, knowing damn well that he would’ve done all this and more to you any day, entirely unprovoked. But he knows his viewers love it, and so do you, because your cunt squeezes him so tightly he’s afraid he might just come early. 

“Aren’t you grateful they loved you so much? Hmm?” you’re barely registering his words anymore. But you’re nodding nonetheless, your thighs beginning to shake from the sheer pleasure of feeling Beomgyu rut into your cunt throughout all this. 

“Tell them thank you,” he says sweetly, not giving you enough time to speak before he’s back to fucking you wildly; his pace picking up, aiming for that specific spot that leaves you dumb and drooly as he places the vibrator back on your clit— any chances of sounding sane are thrown out the window as he begins tugging on your cuffs, bouncing you back against him as the wet sounds of his thrusts ring out through the room. 

“Did you hear me—?” he asks, landing a smack to your ass before he’s soothing the area, slowing down so he can smack you again, “I said say thank you. Do you think you’re above us, pretty?”

Your first attempt to speak is a garbled mess.

“Come on, I know you can do better than that. Or— do you just wanna be a cute little cumdump for me—? Ah, let me use you every time I stream… don’t need any fucking toys when I have my pretty doll for me— right—?” His own sentences are becoming more incoherent the longer he fucks you, addicted to the way your pussy practically sucks him in deeper in response. 

“Try again,” he growls, feeling his own orgasm approaching slowly, “show me you’re not a— shit, a fucking brat, and maybe I’ll let you… ugh, let you come.”

Beomgyu swore he got rid of his habit of rambling like this long ago. But, you seem to be able to bring it out of him, his calm and collected speeches crumbling like paper in his mind as he takes in the way both your arousals are smeared over skin and dripping down your thighs, forming a ring around Beomgyu’s cock as he feels his resolve beginning to crumble— he begins to fuck you carelessly, not able to think about anything else but reaching his high as he waits for your response.

“Mmh—! ugh… fuck…” your voice is increasing in volume, the shy person from before long gone as you begin to chase your orgasm, much too afraid to lose it as you try to form a single, coherent thought.

“Thank…. thank you…” you whine out, but it’s all too slurred and quiet and pathetic to Beomgyu as he growls out a sharp what? His hand pressing down on the small of your back as he glues your hands to your skin, forced to take the way he fucks you as you moan out uncontrollably.

“Thank you..! Thank you thank you, oh, fuck—!” holy shit, you’re full on crying right now, reduced to nothing but a mess of moans and tears as you ramble on repeatedly, only able to remember those limited words as you feel Beomgyu come inside you— warm and deep, stilling for just a moment before he’s back to fucking you, his own moans becoming much more needy at the feeling of overstimulation. 

“Thank you thank you thank youuuu, fuck, fuck fuck mmh—!”  you feel stupid. You’ve definitely been fucked stupid, moaning out those stupid thank you’s like a prayer as you feel yourself slumping completely, a boneless, gooey mess as you rely on Beomgyu to hold you up.

He continues to fuck into you slowly, even after you’ve gone entirely still; he thinks you might’ve passed out, but it’s only for a minute before he sees you shifting again, burying your head into the mattress as he hears the distant sound of you sniffling. 

Beomgyu feels concerned for a second, ready to check up on you and end the stream before you’re grabbing his hand again; then you’re clenching around him, mumbling his name so sweetly while you try to press yourself against him.

You’re straight up gone, he realizes, stilling for a moment and waiting for you to use your safe word— but you don’t, and he sees you peeking subtly at his monitor before you’re burying your face back into his sheets.

“You got a new tip.”

The words are barely audible to him, but he’s quick to glance at it upon your request; he almost chokes as he sees the five-hundred dollars that have been sent to him, his eyes reading over the request a few times before he’s looking back at you.

Could you try to make her squirt ?

“It’s five hundred dollars,” you mutter, and all Beomgyu can do is let out a bewildered laugh, leaning down to place a kiss on your shoulder before he’s whispering in your ear if you’re okay to continue— the small nod you give him is enough to have his cock hardening inside you. 

Fuck, he’s gonna give you the aftercare of the century after this. 

#txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu smut #txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt ff #txt fluff #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu x you #beomgyu x y/n #beomgyu ff #beomgyu imagines #beomgyu oneshot

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Will you forsake me, my love? And the babe I carry?❞

[ You had made a mistake. A slip up. You had overlooked the extent of Otto Hightower and his greed. Now you must make it right... or pay in fire and blood. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 5,504 ] [ series masterlist ] | jacaerys velaryon x targaryen aunt-wife!reader (aegon's twin sister),

contains— canon divergence - manipulative reader— gets darkish but not yet dd:dne - targcest, angsty as fuck, pregnancy - nsfw: p & v sex, oral (male receiving) - no kings, no martyrs, no betas.

a/n— i... actually dunno how i got here tbh. thankfully, this isn't dead dove quite yet, but you, yes you, as jace's manipulative targ wife, almost did, girl, jfc. ahahaha! comments, reblogs & like at will, mwa! 💝 + now that there is a second part, and a third part i'm plotting (uh huh), this is officially a series!! its v loosey goosey, but it'll have a masterlist so... it means it has a taglist! message me to be tagged 💝 & if there are any drabbles/blurbs you wanna see!! message me lmk!! i have so many thoughts about jacey & manipulative reader hehe + dividers by @danowh0re

The only warning you receive is the missive hastily made by your twin.

In his panic, Aegon's scrawl had been barely legible, but the cold sweat that shot through your spine at making sense of the text had you keening over; fingers over your mouth, a dangerous gurgle in your stomach.

The world tilts, the air sucks inward.

Fear... Cold, weightless fear, settles in your heart.

"Princess!" Your maid, Dyana, shrieks, hands grasping your elbows to prevent you from falling. She turns to the door. "Call the maestre back! Now!"

You shake your head rapidly. "No, no. No Ser Addam. I am alright."

"But princess—"

"No, Dyana, I am alright." But you are pale, and a thrum shakes through fingers, rattling your ribcage and trying to yank your heart out of your throat. You have to find your footing or all will be lost. You grab Dyanna's arms and she winces. "Tell me- the prince - where is he?"

"I'm not sure, princess, I can—"

"Quickly! We shan't lose precious more time."

You turn to Meera. You had invested in her from the early age you had taken her in from the orphanage. Loyalty, in its absolution, must be rewarded.

And ease for your own plans can be disguised as a reward.

She steps forward obediently, hands clasped behind her back like a soldier awaiting orders. She is nondescript with plain features, easily able to hide between other common folk; and no one, truly, looks at a maid.

"Go to the Sea Dragon Tower, wait on the Rookery for Johan. Only Johan, do you understand me? Keep the missive that I will dictate to you close to his heart, hidden, and he must depart immediately. Throw extra gold at the captain, I do not care. Meera, no other eyes must touch the paper I will send, tell him of the utter import such a thing. No other than another Spider. We cannot unravel further than this or we will start burning."

Meera's gaze darkens, her posture straightening. "Yes, your grace."

You grasp her hands, your mind whirring— so many plots, so many lies, in between them, he flashes in your mind; the dark hair, the warmth of his hand, the sweet, simpered smile and the flicker of rage that dances like a flame. In and out and calmed and wild.

Dutiful. A Perfect Son. A Beloved Prince. Your Lord Husband.

He flashes in between plans and unraveled lies. Along it, Aegon's missive, quickly written, panic seeping in every vowel.

Grandsire had gotten to Aemond's head. Went to Storm's End. Met Lucerys. They are calling him Kinslayer.

Your head is pounding. Kinslayer, Kinslayer, Kinslayer. It churns your stomach, dries your throat. Lucerys dead. Aemond beheaded. Jacaerys' rage. Rhaenyra's. Dark Sister in the Rogue Prince's hand. All your clever threads, your webs and tales, everything you have sacrificed to get here— they are unraveling, the lives you care about, your fondness and love — the fear has moulded and churned; the Stranger now haunting the skies, searching for names, trying to grasp for your neck.

Aemond, You, Aegon, Helaena, Alicent, Jaeheara, Jaehearys, Maelor—

Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.

Your baby brother. Marred and disfigured, dutiful and dedicated. Sarcastic and princely; dancing with you if you ask. Reading with him in the library. A flickering hearth, a kind eye, a protective arm.

Your baby brother, beheaded, gaping mouth and bloodred eye.

Justice spun and spun, but oh so corrupted when they had taken his eye and no name step forth to claim.

Disfigured, marred, and dead.

Focus, you think, your mouth moving, words spilling, plans stretching. Focus.

Otto Hightower must die. It is a pressing thought, digging into the centrefold of your mushy, wet brain. Pressing and pressing like a fever as words of instructions, orders, must be sent along one spider to another.

Your hand drifts to your stomach as Meera leaves, in her head the words that must reach King's Landing. That must pass only the cleverest of hands. Your hand curls, your fist tightens enough that blood clots and beads through crescent rings. Clever girl. Clever spider. You have to believe in Meera and the people under your hushed employ.

You have no choice. You have built your webs, you must trust your spiders.

Not when you can't even trust your own fucking blood.

It took a while to get your network going in Dragonstone. As soon as the smell of brimstone and dragon broached your nostrils, the plans for moving what you had started in Kings Landing became the forefront plan. There is only so much movement you can make in a board full of enemies; and with so many more things to do, you cannot be restrained.

People with stakes, with ambitions and wants of their own— be that money, a good future, a house with warmth and love — if you can provide it enough, dash it in enough kindness and care, people, like ants, could move mountains for you.

It took most of hyour life to have what you established in Kings Landing. Most of your free time— feiging afternoon teas, walks along the garden; young lady things that will not arouse suspicion, fit for a pious, devoted daughter of Alicent Hightower — was spent building and building webs.

Thankfully, as a Princess of the Realm— and as the future Heir's wife, the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms (the title tingles and throbs, comes alive in gasps and winning hands) — you can have your pick of maids and lady in waitings here too. Connections are important, and Jacaerys did not bereaved you of choice.

In fact, he so encouraged you to make changes to Dragonstone as you so chose fit.

"You are my wife," he sighed, pressing kiss after kiss to the side of your head. When he was wrapped around you like this— arms around your torso, a finger, almost absentmindedly, rubbing just the underside of your breast, and the smell of him, boyish but smoky, like a fireplace and first kiss, swaying you to a rhythm he is fond of, absentminded almost — it reminded you of how Vermax oft like to wrap around small hills and large rocks. A dragon mimicking another dragon; a twin soul so connected.

He sighed again as you run your own fingers against the back of his palm, against the side of his head behind you. "You may do so as you wish," he finished, nuzzling further into you as if he wants no more than to become one with you, flesh and blood. An engorged monster of sorts.

"Just your wife?" you teased. The wedding had only been a few moons ago. The missive had been immediately sent to Kings Landing (under your orders, of course, your new husband none the wiser as he had preferred a few more days of just you), and before lunch, your hand on Jace's thigh, his eyes more than hungrily looking at your lips— Caraxes screech alongside Syrax' wing pattern shook the walls, demanding answers.

Jace had looked nervous for a second, not at all prepared to be facing his mother so soon, his Queen, and his stepfather... whose own daughter he was supposed to marry. Better prepared to face all of them in Kings Landing was his plan.

But you had grasped his hands, had mounted girlish excitement shining in your eyes (an expression so familiar to you to adopt that it so perfectly hides the sharp edges of your excitement; your smugness. It oft reminds you of Aemond)— and Jacaerys had melted.

"My Queen," he reimbursed. You turned as his hands cupped your face. Gentle, possessive in its own way. You sighed, eyes fluttering close with a small, satisfied smile on your lips. "My beautiful queen."

A Maiden in love is not a hard thing to emulate. And he does not make it hard to be.

On some days, you even think it will be easy to actually fall in love with him. You already do so feel his warmth for you permeate your own being. His attention is addicting for one; it is whole and preserving. He makes it known when he is looking at his lady mother, at Baela, his former betrothed (who had given you a meaningful eye when Rhaenyra and Daemon escorted you back to Kings Landing to face the rest of your consequences), and other ladies of the court versus when he is looking at you.

He does not hide his adoration. His so obvious desire.

When you reward him for his loyalty, for private little ticked boxes you keep for him— siding with you in arguments, defending you upon ugly whispers in the Keep, requesting from his mother, a more permanent residence of your own in Dragonstone, in the guise of newly wedded bliss to hide growing your connections far and wide (once Rhaenyra takes the throne, Jacaerys will be named Heir and Prince of Dragonstone; your spiders and people must reach each end of Westeros, and Dragonstone is the perfect central chatter) — you mount him and bask at the lust contorting his features, at his hands gripping your waist in a staccato rhythm of feeling and gasp, each harsh bounce of your hips sending you both to bliss. You feel him inside you so deeply, enjoy his eyes rolling back and exposing his neck for you to sink bruises on.

Most oft, he enjoys mounting you. And you like the alternative of his choice to be buried so deep you feel him in your throat; to hold you down and hold you close, telling you to keep your eyes open for him as you come undone again and again— time and practice can manage his newness to the act. His enthusiasm, both for the act and for you, definitely helps his case, and he is so fond of finding your pleasure, of leading you to the precipe, so addicted to your sounds and writhes.

"There? Is that it, little dragon?" he huffs against your mouth, so attentive as he held your wrist and watch as you gasp, your face twisting as he hits that point inside of you, that sweet, sweet spot of undeniable pleasure buried so deep within— that he laughs. Not meanly, but of pride as he pulls back and hits it again. More insistent. You mewl and scratch his back, your toes curling as you seek the pleasure he so enjoys insisting you into.

"I've found it again, didn't I?" Another snap of his hips, another cry of your lips. "I will fuck your sweetest spot until you- are- crying- my name in that sweet, sweet whine of yours, shall I?"

But it's not really a question privy to an answer, surely not by your own mouth but by your body, as he manhandles you easily and does not stop until you are a quivering, overstimulated mess against wet sheets.

Sometimes, when you can't help but reward him as soon as possible— so excited from his gallant display; the perfect King bowing to his wife — you drag him to shadowy corners and solemnly drop yourself on your knees, unlacing his breeches with deft precision. You place your hot mouth against his manhood, your eyes fluttering delicately, making him reach completion enough times that he is left with a dopey, simpleton of a smile afterward, a soft, chaste kiss against your your head, your nose, your lips. So tender to how he was fucking your mouth not but seconds ago.

"I love you," he whispers against hot skin and cool, salty air.

And it eases, every time he looks at you like that, holds like you that. His love is patient, sweet, kind, and devouring. It overflows and seeps into you that when you whisper back, just as soft, just as troublingly honest, "Avy jorrāelan, ñuha zaldrīzes, I love you, my dragon," the truth of them bleeds further and further into your heart.

Jacaerys.

A warm grief swells within you. Your hands twitch, flattening your grief beneath your chest, deep in your gut. Deep below. You fought hard to be here. You cannot lose him now.

Otto Hightower must die.

A cruel thought, a natural order. With your marriage to Jacaerys meant a relative peace, a truce. Moving to Dragonstone many moons was more than just to establish your position, your future. It was also for your darling sister to take better control of her position back in the centre of power, alongside her husband.

Aged well with a stronger alley who most would not dare defy— a vainglorious guard dog, really, one who isn't afraid to sic people with a mere nod from his master — more than evens out the playing field.

The Queen To Be is prospering. And in her prosper, meant your husband's position more than fulfilled. He was to be King, and with you as his Queen, his reign will want for not.

You should have known it would put Otto on defense, would panic and use your siblings and your poor, nervy mother, to move in unfeasible decisions.

Aegon had taken to calling him grandsire again. Aemond... Your spiders had told you that Lucerys was sent to Storm's End as no more than a casual reminder of Lord Borros' oath. Viserys was in no doubt in worse conditions than he had been the last time you or your husband had visited him. Rhaenyra was settling on her position, reminding the Great Houses which heir was meant to rise soon, so close to the changing of the guard.

And your little brother no doubt was moved in panic.

This was a slip up on your part. Once the King was dead, Otto Hightower would hold no cards; Rhaenyra would never take him as Lord Hand, and his daughter would no longer be a foreground of power. Rhaenyra has her heir. The winning hand is more than ensured on her part.

His only move would be an usurpation, and would ruin your chance at being Queen... it was a good move. Your twin was not made for duty whilst you craved it. He knows you better than you know yourself; you will not be played in his palm. You would be useless to him.

"I should have killed him," you murmur to yourself.

Yna, the last maid in your arsenal, steps forward. She is the youngest of your main three wards, and the newest. She is still learning her letters, but she is young and always eager to serve.

"My lady?"

"I am going to find the prince. Whatever happens, tell them Vermax must not leave with his rider. Make up any excuse you must. My husband must stay in Dragonstone until I say otherwise." You raise your chin, tone icy. "Anyone who dares to defy my orders will be beheaded."

"At once, princess."

Your steps are measured, your breath held between lie and tongue. So many pretty rings on your fingers, twisting and twisting at the idea of the confrontation plagues you.

But you raise your chin. You will not be defeated. All is not lost.

Dyanna had caught you at Aegon's Garden, windblow hair and wide, fearful eyes.

You had braced yourself. "The Prince?"

"The Stone Drum, my princess, he is..."

"Angry," you supplied. She nodded jerkily. "Tell me everything."

"The Prince was talking with Ser Robert, was about the missive sent from Kings Landing says Kevan, not soon after your own." Another spider, one that follows most of your husband's movements. Unassuming and quick on his feet. A good soldier. "Prince Lucerys is alive but badly maimed." The breath you had withheld between grit and fright unrolled, the world slamming back into the ground in a giant's fitful wake. "He still hasn't woken up, says Arrax took most of the damage— one wing torn but is awake. Dunno about recovery for dragons, 'specially against Vhagar. Mournin' the prince, Kevan says. Makin' loud, sad dragon noises."

"But he is alive?" you pressed. Aemond's life hung in its balance. Your sweet, vengeful baby brother who bore his tragedies between muted teeth and rage.

"Yes."

"And Aemond?"

"No word in the missive or between them." It made your throat tight, the convulsion restraining your neck once more.

"It's fine. As long as there no mention of his death. Then that's all I need."

"My lady, there's more. There might be a reason we haven't been getting much word from King's Landing. Or Oldtown. It seems to connect is all."

Your pulse jumped. "Tell me later. I have to see to the prince. No one is allowed in Stone Drum for the time being. Not unless absolutely necessary." You think and you think hard. "Ready to call in a maestre."

Dyanna had looked alarmed when you left her, but you only gave a pensive smile. A soldier's nod.

He is bent over the Painted Table, shoulders so hunched, reminding you of monsters and tall tales. A dragon, really. He may not have Velaryon blood, your husband, but you— nor others — could deny the thrum of fire in his blood. Roiling and boiling, so engulf in his rage, his voice is quiet at the approach of your footsteps.

"You have bound me to Dragonstone," he says calmly with all the quiet rage you can hear in your very soul. It makes you shiver, but you stand resolute.

He is still turned away, away from you, palms flat on the surface. The iron brazier is lit up, and so is the Painted Table itself.

"Can you honestly tell me you won't try and kill my brother if I let you, ñuha valzȳrys my husband?" you say softly. You plead. His refusal to turn to you spikes your madness in corners. The night reaches and you finger your rings as you try not to spill all over the floor; your own madness, your own fears, your quiet, quiet webs. "Aren't you at least satisfied at the thought of your stepfather excelling at planting Dark Sister to his neck? At least cheery at the idea of him suffering inside those dungeons?"

He spins then, rage—white hot and spilling — breathes as he bellows, "He has harmed my brother!"

You calmly met his gaze. "You do not know that for sure."

He laughs without mirth, arms wide and daring. Crazed anger outlandish and wild, while in response you tighten and become small.

But you do not cower. No truth cowers. And you are a princess. A dragon the same as he.

Lest all, he is a mere husband.

"What else could it be? Your brother has called us bastards our entire lives," he spits. "Neither of us are blind to his dark looks. Despite your family's attempted plots, his rage beholds him. His grudge is stronger. He attacked Lucerys, on fucking dragonback— Arrax, a dragon Luke has barely flown against your brother's war dragon — and that makes him a kinslayer."

Your blood leaps, and you cannot control your own fear, your own anger. "Do not throw that word around so carelessly, Jacaerys! My brother has killed no kin!"

"He has tried, " he hisses and it makes your eyes burn because he has never looked at you so before. At his thunderous footsteps to reach you, to aggravate you, you fight the urge to flinch. His anger spills and spoils you. You try not to curdle. You keep yourself braced. Kinslayer is so ugly said aloud. "That is enough of a brand to call him kinslayer."

Your jaw tightens, tears unleashed from your eyes and there's a glimmer there— a spark, of your Jace. Your husband. It is small and short, a comet so faint it is almost nothing, but it is there.

He does not like to see you cry, your Jace. Not if it isn't from pleasure.

You raise your chin. "My brother is no kinslayer. Lucerys is alive. Do not make Aemond what he is not."

He laughs humourlessly against your face, his hand reaching for your jaw, thumb over your chin, but the mock gentleness wounds you worse. "And who has alerted you of the news? Your twin usurper?"

"W-what?" Blood rushes to your head. Something is missing. He knows. He knows about grandsire's plans. Dyanna would have said. Dyanna didn't know. "Aegon is not an usurper," you whisper, faint but firm.

His thumb rubs against your bottom lip, his eyes tracing your face. "Is this the plan all along, then?" he says softly. "While your brother and grandsire plot to usurp the throne from my mother, and your younger brothers raise bannermen from Oldtown to Storm's End, and try to kill my own when they get the chance, I suppose your job is to warm my bed and to ensure I'm out of the fray before you kill me in my—"

His words stutter for you have slapped him. It is not the hardest move on your part, and he stops not from pain but from shock. Tears freely flow down your face now as you push him off you.

"I know nothing of these plots you speak of." That in much is true. These plots are half-assed. Made in panic and fear, and it makes you curse Otto Hightower to the depths of further Hell. "And you may bully me as you wish, husband, but I will not take it as if it does not hurt me. As if- as if I would take pleasure from your death."

He raises his chin, so defiant in his own anger that he clenches his jaw. "Are you telling me you took no part in your grandsire's plans?"

"We have been married for many moons now. I think, out of anyone on this island, amongst our family even, you would know me best. I have only ever truly bloomed in your presence," you say softly. Lies and truths are balanced so precariously; they spin and spin in a tantalising grip that even you don't know where fabrication meets honesty.

If your own lies befuddle you, why not your truths to him?

"If you are doubting me, then you are doubting our marriage, is it not?" You give a mirthless laugh of your own, chin wobbling as you brush your tears away. His eyes track your movements and his brows are furrowed. "Is it ease, that has turned you so from me? Has your doubt been seeded long before you took us to Dragonstone? To affirm your mother that you have wedded me? Yes, Aegon sent me a missive a mere hour ago. He says Aemond had been urged by our grandsire, no doubt played with as he had done so to our mother, as he tries with Aegon. With me."

Jacaerys' eyes darken. Bottomless pits of dark, dark eyes. You've grown to love them you realised.

"I will give you all the violet-eyed heirs you desire," you had purred once in your new marriage bed, having just christened (one to a few times) your new marital chambers in Dragonstone. "But I do so wish I get a babe with your eyes."

"They are hardly exemplary," Jace had said, snorting. His hand rested on your back while you rest on top of him. The air is acrid in sweat and sex, but neither of you mind. "They are not a show of Valyrian blood."

"Who cares?" You reached to dance your finger against his lashes. "A daughter with your eyes... I fear, I would spoil her rotten. She would be an absolute beauty."

"Are you calling me a beauty?" he teased, trying to hide his rosy cheeks.

"Your eyes, yes," you teased back.

"If I was such a pawn to him," you say now. "If I was using you as you so callously accused me of, why would I bother with a marriage with you? You are right, they have accused you of not being a trueborn Velaryon—" He flinches. "—So why would Otto decide marrying you was a good idea at all? Any babes I carry would be questioned, and it would serve no benefit at all if the main plot was Aegon usurping the throne. To keep you entertained? Hardly. It would serve him better, as was his earlier plan, if I had married Aegon myself."

He loses his stance, a grit in his teeth gives you way to a slow curl of possession. A renewed sense of anger. His fists clenched at his sides.

You found a thread. You don't just unspool, you decide, you will yank, and you will yank hard.

"Aegon is a firstborn male heir, even as twins. It made sense to anyone who understood Targaryen customs that marrying us would be the natural order. It did not matter any past transgressions he may have had, I keep him better. I am his tether to this world. It was obvious to anybody with eyes that if we were to marry, we would breed good Valyrian stock, our children—"

But he has lurched forward, grasping your face, seething, angry at an idea, at a diverted road.

"He wanted us to marry," you continue, a snake's hiss that it is. "But your mother sent a missive asking for Helaena's hand, and I had already told her I wanted someone else. I wanted you." You grasp his leather, pulling him to you in equal ferocity. Madness meeting a mirror. "From the very start, grandsire could not control me for my blood sung for you. I had done my very best to free my siblings from him, resigned myself to be their forever protector inside that Keep with no real power of my own, but when the Gods gave me the chance to have you, I had been selfish. I abandoned them for you. Because I wanted to be yours for a night, I was willing to have that, if it is the only moment you will grant me."

You are crying again, and lies are spinning with their truths, golden and bloodstained, but you are cracking him.

"But it was you, Jacaerys Velaryon, who had asked for my hand. You wanted to marry, whisk us away to Dragonstone, and I love you too much to blind myself to the idea of becoming your wife would not be a totally selfish act, for what act of ours would be considered selfish if it was borne out of love?" you sob hard, grasping and reaching against him, trying to shake and ruin him. "I thought you loved me, and yet here you are, accusing me of plotting? What? Usurping your mother? Killing you in your godsdamned sleep?"

"Wife, I—"

"No. I am sorry for what happened to Lucerys. But if it is vengeance that is truly what you seek, and in the morrow my brother," my choke out. "My brother would be announced d-dead, I would rather you kill me now for it seems I have not only failed them from my grandsire's clutches, I have also failed at being your wife."

Your hands reach in and pull his dagger out, and he is instinctive, a true swordsman, holding onto the dagger before your own. But you do not give up. You yank him forward so suddenly, the dagger now positioned over your heart.

You keep him there, defiant as you are. As no true dragon is afraid of metal. Metal melt in the face of dragonfire.

The tip of his dagger deepens against your skin as war rages in his own mind. Truths and lies spinning and spinning in his head, but your thread— your thread is Hightower green clung in blood and gold — and it's the brightest, twisting beneath his lids and rage. Rage and grief, the tethering madness is spilling, trying to break into the dragon's clutches—

But your Jace is strong. He holds it at bay with a fury.

It is love, it is love, it is love.

But you are not sure. And you have to be.

You have been betrayed already, your Jace cannot betray you. If you are to have a future with him as King, there must be no doubts.

You step forward, letting the blade sink against your skin. It draws blood. A few beads bloom and slide. Thick red in a string or two. It makes his jaw tighten, and you feel, almost impercibly, the strain in his hand give.

That flash of panic, panic bathed in love, in adoration, is all you need.

You grasp his hands in yours, blade nestled between two grips now, and he gasps, thinking you were going to push him away finally, but no. You hold on tight to his hands, nails digging into his skin, keeping the blade where it is before you push forward once more. The tip sinks into your flesh, blood gushes as pain explodes.

"What are you doing!? Let go!" he roars, but you stare at his eyes, brown, so pretty, framed in featherlight lashes, did he even know there are violet flecks in his eyes?

You will not harm me, you think. You realise. For you have given yourself to me body and soul. Even the Gods know.

"Will you forsake me, husband?" your voice is no higher than a whisper, than a wind's hum. It is hollow and cracking. A siren song. In the silence, it is a whip cracking against petty flesh. Against a beating heart thrumming for you. "And the babe I carry?"

Before the words register in his brain, you yank his hands again with every strength you can muster, the dagger, to hover over your stomach. Your Jace roars, pulling with his entire strength as complete fear in floods his beautiful, brown eyes. The strength propels your force of gravity, and you fall with a hard thud. The dagger is flung in the second as he reaches for you, cold-curdled terror ruining his face as he tries to make sense of where to touch you.

The fall is hard enough that you wince. And your instincts, new as it is, is to curl your hands protectively over your stomach.

"M-my heart? Does it hurt? I-I am so sorry, I-A MAESTRE, CALL A MAESTRE FOR THE PRINCESS NOW!"

Your child is strong, you have always known that in your heart.

The second you held suspicion, pressing against the tender flesh of your breast to the nausea that kicked in out of nowhere, before Maestre Gerardys had confirmed: you are with child. Your firstborn. The heir of heirs. You could not wait to meet him.

"I hope it is a boy," you murmur weakly into the darkened space of your chambers. You don't turn as Jacaerys' head snaps, his hands over your own, sat on a chair by your bedside. Relief, guilt, fear breaks and crashes in waves against him, trying to nudge you, but you don't look. You stare from your position on the bed; forward and into nothingness.

"My love," he breathes, hands against your own warm and tight. "I am so, so sorry. I shall call for a maestre—"

"No need." Your other hand moves to your stomach. An emotion glimmers in his gaze at the movement. "My babe is strong. Blood of the dragon that he is. I know him already in my blood. Call for my maid instead. Any of them. Tell them to move my things to a different room, perhaps the one above Aegon's Garden. By morn, I will fly to Kings Landing to be with my family."

Panic fills and breaks. His hold tightens. "I-If that is what you wish, we can go as soon as Maestre Gerardys says it is alright for you and the—"

You turn to him, finally, your eyes dead of emotion. "I will go for I do not think you would like your would-be murderer to sleep beside you, haunting you with a dagger. This way, I can take advice from my mother about births and the like, and you can sleep comfortably. Do not worry, I will not poison you to your child's mind. You may visit him as you would like. You might even take comfort in knowing your mother would look for him as if he were hers. She is so very motherly, I'm sure she would enjoy a grand..."

Your words drift off as he had fallen to his knees, tears soaking your hand as he presses it to his face. You feel like the Mother, looking down on a penitent. Or the Father. Or the Stranger. You feel complete, as his apologies fall in graceless, shaky exhales and sobs. The axe is in your hand. His neck is exposed.

"—I will do anything, a-anything for your f-forgiveness. Y-You can move rooms if it comforts you, I will not s-shadow your doorway, but please. Please. Do not leave me. Anything. I will do anything."

You, and you alone, is the owner of his absolution.

You smile, despite yourself.

Maybe you should reward your grandsire after all.

TAGGED (bold means I couldn't tag you: @inkareds @marihoneywk @caterina-caterina @ahristata

#jacaerys velaryon fanfiction #jacaerys angst #hotd angst #jacaerys velaryon x reader #jace velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon x you #jacaerys velaryon angst #jacaerys smut #hotd smut #manipulative reader #elle writes !! ꒱ ↷˗ˏˋ🍒

[roosterforme]

The Younger Kind Part 12 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You and Bradley both know you need to have a conversation and define your relationship. Bradley is excited to get home to you and do just that... and then maybe take you to bed for the rest of the night. But when Meredith crashes the scene, and someone gets hurt, he has to change his plans.

Warnings: Smut, angst, swearing, fluff, and age gap (18+)

Length: 4500 words

Pairing: Single dad!Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x babysitter!female reader

Check out my masterlist for more!

After Bradley dropped Noah off early at daycare on Friday morning, he had an hour until he needed to be on base. He wanted to get to you as soon as he could, but he stopped to get your coffee on the way. 

It was funny, because the baristas really did know him by this point, and they knew what his regular order was. He was probably the only person in the history of the coffee shop who asked to write the names on the cups himself. So he scrawled Princess and peasant on the two cups and handed the marker back to the barista, making sure to leave a tip. 

He knew where you lived, because it was very close to Penny's house, and he wondered if you were going to let him inside your place. He parked behind your car and made his way up to the front door of the small cottage that needed a lot of work. It was smaller than his house, which had more than enough room for three people. Bradley juggled both coffee cups into one hand and knocked.

And when you answered the door in your scrubs, fresh from the shower, he knew he was gaping at you. But you were no better as your eyes went a little wide at the sight of him in his flight suit with the sleeves tied around his waist. 

"Morning, Princess," he crooned softly, and you were smiling up at him as he handed you your coffee. "Give me your keys, and I'll move Noah's carseat into your car."

"You want to come in first?" you asked, and Bradley slipped willingly inside your living space. Everything had a dreamlike quality; he hadn't quite been able to imagine what your place would be like. When he was your age, he had owned nothing and had no one. Strangely enough, you seemed similar to how he had been, but it didn't come with a sense of sadness. You seemed independent and smart, and as you slipped your hand into his and pulled him further inside, Bradley leaned down to kiss your cheek.

"I would give you a tour, but there's nothing really to see," you told him, shrugging as you looked between your small living room and your small kitchen. 

"You gonna show me your secret Skittles stash?" he asked, earning a laugh. 

"Absolutely not," you replied. "You seem like the type who would have no self control if you knew the location. You'd eat them all in one sitting."

"That's not true," he promised, running his thumb along the back of your hand. "I'd save you half and you know it." He loved that smug smile on your lips, couldn't get enough, really. Then he looked around a little more, inhaling your sweet scent. He eyed a hoodie with Greek letters hanging on one of the hooks next to the door. "Were you in a sorority?" he asked, running his fingers along the fabric. 

With a soft laugh, you shook your head. "Uh, no. That belongs to my ex, Greyson. I keep forgetting to take it over to his apartment and drop it off."

Bradley eyed your pretty face and glossy lips. He knew all about college guys and cute girls, and he didn't want you going anywhere near Greyson's place anymore. "I could drop it off for you, Princess."

You released his hand and let your palm come to rest against his abs while you casually sipped your coffee. "You jealous, Daddy?"

Bradley hauled you against his body with a soft yelp, setting his coffee down on the table followed by yours. "Why don't you show me your bedroom?"

You wrapped your hands around the back of his neck and kissed him softly. "Won't you be late for work?"

"I don't care," he growled, letting his hands slide down your body until he was grabbing your ass and rubbing against you through the thin fabric of your scrubs. You were making soft sounds as you kissed him, and Bradley knew nothing except the desire to take care of you in every way.

"Okay, Daddy." You were leading him up the stairs, holding his hand and looking back at him as you led him into a room with a double bed and a dresser. Everything was tidy and it smelled so fucking good, Bradley was getting harder my the second. 

You looked at him expectantly as he started to untie your pants. Fuck. He was thinking about calling out of work and spending the day in your bed, showing you everything he could and would love to do to you. 

He licked his lips. "If we make this quick, I don't want you to think it's because I didn't want to spend hours with my face and cock buried inside you."

"Oh," you whimpered before you bit your lip. Bradley slipped his hand inside your underwear. You were soaking wet already, and so sensitive that you shook before him. 

He kissed your lips as he let his fingers glide through your silky wetness. Your hands were exploring his shoulders through his undershirt, and Bradley couldn't remember wanting anyone like this before. 

"Turn around, baby," he whispered, and you did just as you were told, bending over and bracing your hands on your bed. When he knelt behind you and yanked your pants and underwear down to your feet, he moaned at the gorgeous view he was treated to. 

"You okay?" you asked, since he had stopped touching you except to stroke your thighs with his thumbs. Bradley responded by nudging your legs a little further apart and kissing your pussy until his lips and mustache were all wet. You smelled and tasted so good. He wanted to smell like you for the rest of the day. You were whimpering softly, stuttering on his name, and as Bradley stood and unzipped his flight suit a few more inches, he basked in the genuinely needy noises you made.

You met his eyes over his shoulder, and he leaned down to kiss your cheek as he lined himself up with your tight pussy. "I just want to make you feel so good, Princess," he promised, pushing himself deep inside you with a groan. "You're too perfect for anything else."

"Bradley," you whined as he planted his hands next to yours on the bed. He covered your body with his larger one, wanting to protect you and make you feel like you belonged with him even while he fucked you. Maybe especially when he was fucking you.

"Princess," he whispered, kissing along the back of your neck and burying his nose in your hair. The slapping of his thighs against yours was filling the room, and Bradley had to bite his lip against the sensation of how damn tight you felt. He could cum now, he was certain of that, but he wanted to make everything good for you. "I want you to cum for me."

You took Bradley's right hand in yours and kissed his fingertips before guiding his hand so he was touching your clit. He groaned next to your ear and you turned to kiss the corner of his lips. "Touch me?" 

Bradley sucked on your neck while he spread you open and circled your clit with his middle finger. You were panting, exposing more of your neck for him to nibble on as you bucked back into his thrusts. But that first squeeze had him seeing stars as you keened. And then you got louder and louder until you were whining Daddy at full volume, back arched as you came for him.

When he finished a moment later, he let his hand drift up your body over your perfect skin until he was stroking you gently through your bra. "I can't wait to see you later tonight, Princess."

"Mmm," you sighed as he withdrew from your body. Then you stood and pulled your clothing back into place, and Bradley knew he would be thinking about your cum soaked underwear until he saw you later and got to do it all over again. 

"I think you earned your very own bag of Skittles," you whispered, running your hands along his chest and up to his shoulders. 

Bradley took your chin between his thumb and fingers. "I'm curious to know what you're going to give me after I spread you out on my bed later and really take my time."

Your eyes fluttered closed as he kissed you until you whimpered. 

"Shit, I need to go, Princess. Let me put the car seat in your car."

You took his hand and led him back downstairs, grabbing a bag of Skittles from a kitchen drawer and handing it to him while he looked at Greyson's hoodie again. "Thanks, baby. You know... I meant it. I can drop that off for you if you want me to." Simply the idea of letting your twenty three year old ex boyfriend know that you were currently getting fucked by him had Bradley grinning.

You pressed your lips together and tucked the Skittles into the pocket of Bradley's flight suit before saying, "That sounds like something a boyfriend would do."

He sucked in a breath, because you were fucking right. Flipping your ex the proverbial bird was boyfriend behavior, and he wanted to do it anyway. As it was, he already wanted you with him and Noah all the time. He knew he needed to talk to you about defining what was going on, because the app was off his phone now, and he'd been wanting you for weeks.

The expectant look in your eyes had him kissing your lips, and you had the audacity to lick his still damp mustache and moan. Would he get in trouble with Maverick if he stayed longer and had you again? But then his phone rang, and he discreetly silenced it as soon as he saw that it was Meredith.

"You and I are going to have a conversation later. Okay, Princess? Now where is your car key?"

--------------------------------

Before you left for class, you bundled up Greyson's hoodie and shoved it into a shopping bag. You'd drop it by his place one day next week, so there was no sense in leaving it hanging around with your other things. 

Just seeing Noah's carseat in your backseat had you smiling. And that smile lasted all day while you were in class and filling out information for your clinical research work. You loved being the one who Bradley knew he could trust with his son. You loved spending time with Noah and making snacks for him. You had the All About the Letter N! coloring book tucked in your bag along with your textbooks, and after you took Noah to the park, you and he could color. And then Bradley would come home. And you and he could talk. And then hopefully you would be willingly spreading yourself out on his bed for the rest of the night.

With a soft moan, you pulled up the address of Noah's daycare in your phone's GPS and headed toward your car. It was only twenty minutes away. He would probably be hungry when you got there, which was fine, because you had some ants on logs in a cooler in your trunk just for him.

But the look on Noah's face when you were the one who arrived to pick him up made you smile so much, it hurt your face. "Did you have fun today?" you asked him as he climbed up into your arms and hugged you.

"Yeah! Did you bring a coloring book?"

"I sure did, Noah. And I brought you a snack. Do you want to go to the park and have your snack on a picnic table?"

As he nodded against your shoulder, you decided to just head right for the park in Bradley's neighborhood. You could change out of your scrubs later when you took Noah home for dinner. You brought something cute to change into, but Bradley wouldn't be home until closer to Noah's bedtime anyway. So you parked near the picnic tables, not too far from the playground equipment, and took the cooler out of your trunk before scooping Noah out of his carseat.

"Ready?" you asked, taking his tiny hand in yours as you slipped your sunglasses into place. "Let's have a snack first, and then we can go on the swings."

The playground was not crowded, but the kids that were there were running around, laughing and screaming with parents and grandparents. The picnic tables were empty, and you helped Noah climb up onto one of the benches and kissed his head.

"Have some ants," you told him, lining several carrots up on a napkin for him. You crunched into one as you settled onto the bench beside him. He ate the rest of them, leaving a mess of peanut butter on his face and hands, but you had wipes inside the cooler. 

"Were they good?" you asked, laughing as he looked inside the cooler for more as you wiped his cheek clean. "You want more?"

"Yes," he replied, turning toward you with wide eyes, looking so much like his dad that you had to laugh. You could probably cook nonstop for the two of them, and they would just keep eating. 

You kissed his forehead and scooped him up from the bench. You tucked your trash inside the cooler along with the ice pack and led him to the swings. "I'll make you more after dinner if you're still hungry."

"Promise?"

"Of course, I promise!" you replied. The breeze was picking up a bit, but it was still a beautiful day. And as you pushed him higher and higher at his request, you smiled at the dad next to you as he chased a toddler around. You briefly thought about what you might be able to cook at Bradley's house, then you sighed realizing you should have grabbed his credit card for groceries just in case. 

You inadvertently made eye contact with a woman who was standing alone near the far end of the swings before looking away. She looked familiar, although you were also sure you'd never seen her before. After a few seconds, you could tell out of the corner of your eye that she hadn't moved, so you glanced her way again. She was looking intently at Noah, and you could feel goosebumps tingle along the back of your neck. 

The woman took out her phone, and you tried to slow the swing down and block her view of Noah, but then you felt apprehensive about turning your back toward her. The swings were too far away from your car. The picnic tables were blocking your path. 

"Let's go down the slide," you told Noah quickly, scooping him out of the swing as he complained and asked you to push him more. 

When you turned back to check, the woman had started to walk along the swings, closer to the slide as you helped Noah climb up. Suddenly you felt unsafe. The park was nearly empty. That guy with the toddler was gone now. Your heart rate picked up.   

You pushed Noah down the slide and then ran to help catch him at the bottom. And now the woman was creeping even closer with her phone out.  

"Again!" he chanted. With a deep breath, you walked him back to the ladder, helped him climb, and then made a quick decision. You had your phone and keys in your pocket, and you could leave the cooler behind. When you scooped him up at the bottom of the slide, you wrapped your arms around him and made a quick dash toward your car. 

It was a good distance away, and as soon as you started moving, you saw her moving too. She was rushing toward you now, but you had a clear shot at the parking lot. Your heart was thudding in your chest, and the feeling of panic that washed over you had you squeezing Noah closer. 

"What's wrong?" he asked, looking concerned as you ran as fast as you could with him in your arms. 

"It's okay," you gasped, glancing back to see that she was still right there. And now she was calling out to you. Ignoring what she was saying, you unlocked your car as you approached, nearly tripping on the curb as you flung your back door open. Your sunglasses slipped off, and you stepped on them, crunching them under your sneaker.

"Wait!" the woman called out. "It's okay!"

You shoved Noah a little roughly into his carseat, tightening the straps with one hand as you glanced over your shoulder and slammed the back door shut.

"Shit!" she called out, also nearly tripping over the curb. "I won't hurt him!" 

You needed to get in the car, but as you reached for your door, you tripped and landed on the pavement, and the searing pain that shot through your arm had you gasping. But you didn't have time to check yourself as this insane woman closed in on you.

"Stay the fuck away from me!" you screamed, realizing your pepper spray was sitting in your cup holder. You opened your door and climbed in, locking the doors and cranking the engine to life just as she approached Noah's window and cupped her hands to look inside your car. "You psycho!" you cried out, slamming your car into drive and peeling out of the parking lot.

You drove in the opposite direction of Bradley's house in case she tried to follow, but you didn't see anyone else pull out of the parking lot. When you glanced in your mirror at Noah, he looked like he was going to cry. 

"It's okay!" you tried to reassure him, but your own voice was shaking. "Let's sing." After you cleared your throat a few times, you led him in the dinosaur song that you and he made up last month, and that seemed to cheer him up and calm him down. 

You drove miles out of your way before you started to head back to Bradley's house. When you finally pulled into his driveway, you noticed that your right arm was scraped up and dripping blood, but at least Noah was safe. And as you carried him inside, firmly locking the door and leaning against it, you realized who that must have been.

----------------------------

Bradley was exhausted. He and Nat had been working with the simulation for hours. It was late, and he was starving, and he decided to skip the locker room and head right home. He wanted to see you and Noah, wanted to talk to you. If he didn't at least try to figure out what was happening with you, he was going to lose his mind. 

He wanted you. Noah already loved you. Of course, you'd be crazy to actually want to date Bradley, but he figured he should at least try. Test those waters with you. He couldn't ever remember being nervous that a woman might just want him around to hook up with. Although he supposed he could just keep doing that with you, if that's all you really wanted.

Bradley's stomach was growling as he tied his sleeves around his waist again. The sun had already set, and as he climbed into the Bronco, he scrolled through missed calls from Meredith and texted you. 

Be home soon.

You didn't respond, but his house wasn't too far from base, and you were probably playing with Noah. Maybe you'd be wearing your crown when he got back. Maybe you had made dinner. Maybe you'd kiss him when he got there. He found himself driving a little faster, smiling when your car in his driveway came into view.

But as soon as he unlocked the door and strolled into the kitchen, he knew something was wrong. Your back was tense, and you were coloring with your left hand. Noah was in his pajamas, and when he looked at Bradley his eyes lit up. But Bradley's gaze fell to your arm, and he rushed over to you. 

"What happened?" he asked, gently taking you by the wrist and examining you. "Tell me."

You looked at him, lips parted, but you remained silent for a beat. "I fell."

"You fell?" he asked, wondering why your voice sounded so strange.You looked tired and worried, but Noah was okay. And your arm looked like it would heal eventually. "Baby, tell me what happened." He was kneeling on the floor next to your seat, and you nodded slightly as he kissed your cheek.

"After Noah gets in bed," you whispered. "I'll tell you."

"Sure," Bradley replied, still worried as he scooped his son up and took him to the bathroom to brush his teeth. When he got him tucked in bed, Bradley kissed his forehead. "Go right to sleep, bub. I love you."

Noah looked at him with wide eyes as he turned on the nightlight. Bradley rubbed his shoulder as his eyes finally started to drift closed, and then he was dashing back out to the kitchen. You were washing dishes with one good arm, and Bradley reached around you to take the plate out of your hand and turn the faucet off. 

"Hey, don't worry about that, Princess," he whispered, turning you gently to face him. "What happened?"

You finally met his eyes. He pressed his lips to yours, but you didn't return the kiss. Bradley pulled away and examined your arm again. He needed to get you cleaned up, get the dirt out of the wound. "Will you talk to me?" he asked.

You cleared your throat and asked, "What does Meredith look like?"

Bradley cocked his head a bit but described his ex to you. The look in your eyes was making him nervous as he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. "I have a picture of her," he told you, scrolling through a photo album. "She's in the first picture I ever took of Noah. So I saved it." When Bradley held his phone out for you, he saw you swallow hard before meeting his eyes again.

"I took Noah to the park," you whispered. "After I picked him up from daycare. And there was a woman there. She kept looking at Noah. Looked like she was trying to take his picture."

"Shit," Bradley gasped, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

You nodded. "She made me nervous. Really upset me. So I grabbed Noah and ran for my car. After I got Noah in, I tripped and fell when I was trying to get the driver's door open. I guess I fucked up my arm pretty good. But I sped out of the parking lot away from her. Away from Meredith."

You had protected Noah. From his own mother. What the hell was Meredith doing?

Bradley pushed your hair back away from your face and examined your eyes. You looked upset but not like you were in shock. He let his fingers drift down to your neck and found your pulse was slightly elevated but not erratic. "I'm okay," you told him softly. "Promise."

He kissed your forehead, inhaling your scent. "Let me get your arm cleaned up, Princess." 

------------------------

You sat on the edge of Bradley's bathtub as he knelt on the floor and very gently and patiently cleaned your arm. You watched silently as he used tweezers to remove bits of asphalt from your skin before guiding you back so he could rinse your arm.

"You would make a good nurse," you muttered, and he glanced up at you. 

"Well, that means a lot coming from you," he replied, kissing your fingers before he guided your arm back under the water. "I'm sure you would have done a better job if it wasn't your dominant arm."

You just shrugged as he carefully dried you off and wrapped your arm up in gauze. Neither of you were smiling. He stood and gently helped you to your feet as well, and you buried your face into his warm neck and chest, trying to hold back tears. Because you knew without a doubt that the conversation you and Bradley were supposed to have tonight wouldn't be happening now. 

"Princess," he whispered, and your eyes fluttered closed as his mustache brushed your cheek. "I need to call Meredith."

You nodded, inhaling the smell of sweat and jet fuel from his skin. You liked to think he had skipped the showers so he could rush home to see you. You liked to think he missed you as much as he missed Noah when you weren't around. You wanted to hold onto that.

"I understand," you promised, letting your fingers settle on his abs for a beat before you turned to leave the bathroom. You felt like crying as you sat on the couch and tried to clumsily put your shoes on. But Bradley helped you, looking up at you with a serious expression.

"Thank you."

"For what?" you asked. All you had managed to do was get hurt and turn into an emotional mess over knowing Meredith had been the one to scare you at the park. You felt like an idiot.

"Thank you for protecting Noah, Princess," he replied, rubbing soft circles in your calves through your scrubs. "You don't know what that means to me." 

It was hard to believe that earlier this morning, you and he had been fucking in your bedroom. You leaned forward to kiss him, and he reached up to pull you gently to the floor onto his lap. Very carefully, Bradley helped you wrap your arms around his neck, and he kissed you for a while. 

When he pressed his forehead to yours and stood with you in his arms, you cautiously asked him, "Will you call me?"

"Of course." 

Bradley walked you out to your car and retrieved Noah's carseat. Then he kissed you goodbye as he made you promise to text him when you got home. 

--------------------------

Bradley sat on his couch, running his fingers through his hair. Meredith was apparently hanging around his neighborhood. You got hurt. Noah could have been hurt. Bradley needed to figure this out.

As soon as your text came through, he sighed.

Babysitter: I'm safe at home. I miss you already. You and Noah.

Instead of responding to you like he wanted to, Bradley squared his shoulders and looked at his missed calls. When he tapped on Meredith's name, she answered almost immediately, and Bradley's anger flared inside him.

"Well," she said with a laugh, "I figured I had your attention now. Thank you so much for calling me back, Bradley."

"Meredith," he muttered through clenched teeth. "What do you want?"

"I just want to talk to you. In person. I'll come by in the morning."

-----------------------

She's going to come by in the morning!! Ahhh! Enjoy your babysitter fic which you help me write, @beyondthesefourwalls And thank you @mak-32 !

PART 13

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