Astrid / she-her-they / 22 / USA / live, laugh, love? more like read-write-yap baybeeee / multi-fandom
Disclaimers:
» Officially considering this an 18+ blog, MDNI (i like smut too much sorry not sorry)
» I consume, reblog, and write RPF—all portrayals of real people are actually about their fictional dream land versions in my brain and in no way is it meant to be taken literally
» Works I write may include mature or disturbing content. I try to acknowledge anything that may be triggering so please be aware of content info and let me know if I’m missing something :)
Summary: Deep into tour, Noah can’t get enough of flustering people and Folio becomes his next victim.
Content: 18+mdni, explicit smut: oral sex (m receiving), mutual masturbation, semi-public sex (back lounge of the bus), hair pulling, dirty talk, language, friends-with-benefits (they’re winging it)
Word count: 3.3k
band fics list | taglist
*note for tagged users below: I may have added boy x boy as a “don’t tag” option after you filled out the form. If you don’t wanna be tagged you can message me or fill out a new form and I’ll update :)
Big big thank you again to @jestersnotebook for the beta read on this, it was such a relief lol <3
Noah would be lying if he said that he doesn't know what he does to people. Trust, he knows.
He tries not to be loud about it, and he really tries not to be obvious about how much he likes it, but it slips sometimes. Getting a rise out of people is like microdosing in that feeling where he gets someone flustered in the bedroom. He likes to watch them blush, likes to hear their breath catch, likes to feel their skin get hot or their heart beat faster.
Today, he can't get enough. The crowd was so loving when he was on stage. He caught as many excited squeals and flustered gasps as he could and somehow it still didn't sate the desire settling in him.
Poor Folio just happens to be the one in the back lounge of the bus with him when he finally decides he can't take it.
Noah leans back from where he is hunched against the table, laptop open as he works on the mix for a demo. Nick is just looking at his phone, hair falling in his face while Noah stretches his arms out and arches his back with a groan.
"Fuck, I should be naked on a table somewhere right now."
Folio's eyes snap up from his screen instantly.
"What?" he chokes out.
Playing stupid, Noah furrows his brows and then chuckles.
"Like, I should be getting a massage."
"Oh," the drummer answers, his tone stiff.
He plays it off pretty well, though. He laughs a little and nods as if he didn't falter.
"Yeah, me too," he adds.
"I would offer, but we'll just hurt ourselves more," Noah jokes.
"I am not doing shit with my hands at this point of tour, man," Nick says with a snort.
The grin that spreads on Noah's face is genuine. He doesn't spend enough time with Folio and he forgets what good company he is. His voice is nice to listen to, his face is nice to look at, and he has an aura about him that Jolly and Nicholas can't quite match.
The reply catches up to him and Noah realizes this might be a good chance to lean into what he wants.
"Mm, I think we're all doing something with our hand at this point of tour," Noah says, trying not to let his smirk grow too much.
His friend falters again and averts his gaze, unable to look Noah in the eyes as the innuendo lands. He still tries to laugh it off, but they all know this is the week it gets uncomfortable. It is hard to find that time alone on tour to get off and have some relief, and it has usually built up by now to a point where anyone is looking for a few minutes alone to let go.
Instead of letting Nick answer, Noah reaches back and grabs the collar of his shirt behind his head. He slips it off, the movement messing his hair. He avoids looking at Nick as he shakes the brown strands loosely back into place and drops his shirt on the couch next to him.
"Fucking summer tour heat," he murmurs, loud enough for Folio to hear but low enough that it could seem like he is talking to himself.
Noah goes back to his computer, sparing a very discreet glance to the man seated near him. The angle isn't great, but he can see the rigid stillness in Nick's body. He looks like he's holding his breath.
When Noah runs a hand through his hair, letting his bicep and pec flex with the movement, he catches Folio shift to spread his legs a little more.
It takes a lot for Noah to not get smug.
"You ever think about how different this seems from how tour was in, like, the 80s?" Noah continues.
"How so?" Nick asks.
"Like, the bras on stage, the groupies, shit like that," he answers. "I mean, there's still a hookup here or there, but everyone makes it sound like they were getting it all the time at shows."
Nick shrugs. "I think it's just kinda different now."
"That's what I mean. Could you imagine doing that?"
There is a moment of silence, so Noah turns to look at Nick again. He folds his arms on the table and pins his gaze on his friend, who swallows with the weight of the look. For someone who usually has so much energy, Folio is completely still.
"Haven't we all talked about how we don't want that for us?" he replies, deflecting.
"Yeah, I'm not suggesting it. I'm just asking if you've ever thought of how convenient that would be," Noah explains. "You know how some of those fans see us."
"I guess, but aren't you the one who said you don't wanna be that guy?"
"It's just hypothetical," he says with a laugh. "What? You don't ever think about how much of a relief it would be to lock yourself back here with someone and do something other than jerk off?”
Folio's eyes widen and he lets out a broken, breathy laugh. He shifts again and looks at his phone like it might help distract him, but the screen has absolutely turned off by now. His eyes dance around the floor for a moment before he looks back up because he knows it's the only way to keep his unbothered act going.
"Dude, you need to get laid when we all go home," Nick announces.
"Or I could get laid here," Noah says playfully.
"It's gonna take a lot of convincing to get them to let you bring someone else on this bus," he answers, laughing along like it's the most ridiculous notion he has heard in a long time.
Noah glances down at his computer and smirks a little. "It doesn't have to be someone else."
"What?" Nick blurts out.
When he lifts his gaze, Noah finds his friend's face getting pink and his eyes wide again.
"We all know what it's like. . . being all pent up, no privacy," he explains. "Have you ever thought of how easy it would be if we could all help each other out?"
Folio's chest rises and falls a little faster now.
"Noah —."
"Think about it," Noah cuts him off.
The drummer purses his lips, trying hard not to think about it. But Noah could not care less. His gut is warming and the pressure of arousal growing in his shorts is way too hard to pass up.
"We know what we like, what it feels like. . . It would be so easy."
"It would be complicated," Nick answers, voice a little breathless.
"But it doesn't have to be if we all agree it's purely for relief. It doesn't have to be every day, just off and on when things get tense."
Noah closes his laptop and shifts closer to Folio, who is clenching his jaw and trying to catch his breath. His eyes linger on Noah's chest and arms, over all his tattoos and the soft muscles underneath. The darkness in his eyes is visible now, the images floating through his head, and Noah's cock stirs at those same ideas.
"I've got you flustered," he declares, eyeing the way Nick fidgets and shifts his legs again.
"It's not hard to do," Folio mutters.
"No, but I've only ever seen it a few times."
Nick swallows when Noah gets close enough that their knees almost touch.
"Noah, this isn't a good idea."
"Why not?"
"The guys —."
"Half of them are asleep and no one is coming back here at this time."
Despite his protest, Nick is leaned towards Noah and doesn't move away.
"But if they hear. . ."
Noah smirks. "You're telling me you can't stay quiet?"
"No, I can, but. . ." he trails off, breaths shaky as Noah looks him up and down.
He gives him time to finish the sentence or voice other concerns, or outright say no, but he doesn't.
"Just lock the door, at least.”
Pride fills him with the request and Noah quickly stands, walking to flip the lock into place on the door.
He stalks back to where Folio sits on the couch and settles next to him. His eyes drag up from his bare knees, over his shorts to the gentle definition of an erection, then up to his neck. Noah smiles a little in anticipation, but looks Nick in the eyes again.
"Can I touch you?"
Nick sucks in a breath, then nods.
His skin is heated under Noah's fingertips. It is immediately intoxicating, just as much as the shaky exhale that brushes his ear. Noah grazes his hand up and down Nick's thigh, on and off his shorts to ease into the new dynamic. Then, once he's sure that Nick isn't backing out yet, he lets his fingers slide under the fabric of the drummer's shorts.
Watching his hand disappear does something to Noah. It excites him in a way he hadn't expected, but Nick's skin is soft and his little ragged breaths are so infectious. He wants to move up further, see if the skin of his hardening cock is even smoother.
"It's hot in here," Nick whispers.
Noah chuckles and Nick joins him. There is an awkward hesitation to all of this that eases with the comment.
Pulling his hand from Nick's shorts, Noah grabs at the hem of his bandmates T-shirt and looks at him for any objection, but he nods his consent once more. The colorful burst of the tattoo on his chest seems brighter with the intimacy of all this, even the skin around it gaining some extra color from the heat of the room and the desire.
It never occurred to Noah that he might caress his friend's skin, might trace the lines of his tattoo or palm his chest, but he doesn't want to stop now. Sure, Folio has appeared in a wet dream or two, but he never let himself think further.
Not until tonight when he saw him looking so innocent, scrolling on his phone while the lust was ready to bubble over.
"Is it okay if I put my mouth on you?" Noah hums.
Nick shuffles again. "Like, suck my dick?"
Noah pauses. It isn't what he meant right now, but. . .
"Is that what you want?"
"Is that what you want?" Folio parrots.
A hesitant bit of excitement comes to Noah's face and he glances down at the little trail of hair traveling down from Nick's navel. He slides his hand down his chest until he brushes the little strands of hair, then moves further until his palm is on top of the clothed boner.
"Not what I meant when I asked, but I like the idea," Noah replies.
"Fuck," Nick breathes out at the way Noah gently palms him, his head falling back.
The arousal takes over and Noah leans in, running his tongue up the man's neck. He shudders beneath him and then fingers are threaded in Noah's hair, gripping the strands like he is gripping Nick's dick, and instinct completely takes over.
Noah begins a trail of messy kisses on his neck, nipping at him a few times and soothing the spot with brushes of his tongue. His hand teases Nick's covered erection, squeezing and rubbing it, feeling it grow and stiffen even more under his palm. And the whole time, little gasps and swears fill his ear and fingers pull at his hair.
"Can I take these off?" Noah finally asks, hooking a finger under the waistband of Folio's shorts.
"Please," he gasps.
He lifts his hips so Noah can work them off. Once they touch the floor, Noah looks back up to see the bulge under Nick's boxer briefs, which he has his fingers hooked under.
He watches Noah with a questioning expression, seeing if it's okay to take these off too.
All it takes is a smile and an enthusiastic nod, and the underwear are gone.
Nick's cock slaps the skin under his navel as it is freed. Noah has seen it before, but never like this. Never high on want and lust and never so hard. The veins are highlighted in the shitty lighting of the room and his skin looks completely smooth.
It didn't occur to Noah that Nick might have more girth to his dick than he had on his own, but he can't even find it in himself to be worried about that right now.
Noah moves to kneel between Nick’s legs, attacking his thighs, kissing and biting and licking at them to elicit more soft moans. He can see in the corner of his eye that Nick has spread the little bit of leaking arousal onto his length and gives it a slow stroke. His belly shudders with his shaky breath of pleasure and Noah digs his teeth into the skin of his thigh.
"Shit," Nick rasps and grabs Noah's hair again. "This is so insane."
When Noah hums in reply, the vibration travels up Nick's leg.
"You worry too much," he says against his skin.
"Looks who's talking," Nick jokes.
They both chuckle again and Noah lifts his head, squeezing the muscular thighs of the man above him and watching his hand slide slowly up and down his shaft, tightening at the tip.
"You gonna let me take over?"
Nick bites his lip a little, like he's making sure he is really okay with this, but it's hard to tell Noah Sebastian no when he is looking up at you like that.
"Mhm," Nick hums in agreement, letting go.
Noah tries not to get caught up in the nerves. This wouldn't be his first blowjob and he does like giving them, but he hasn't done many.
Sitting up a little more on his knees, Noah gently touches Nick's cock. He familiarizes himself, gets used to its weight in his hand and the feel of how soft his skin is. He plays with the head of it, basking in those first whimpers of bliss from above.
And then he opens his mouth, letting built up saliva fall on the rock hard dick in his hand, and gives it a few good strokes before taking the tip in his mouth.
"Oh my God," Nick mutters, head lolling back and fingers gripping Noah's tufts of hair a little tighter.
Noah learns fast that sucking someone's dick is a little like riding a bike. You never really forget how to do it, you just have to get your bearings. And fuck, does he get them quick.
Nick's cock makes his mouth feel blissfully full, his lips wrapped around the wide size and coated in saliva that drips out and spreads everywhere. He tries not to rush, but he loves how it feels sliding in and out of him. He loves the way he brushes the back of his throat, how he twitches, the subtly bitter taste of all the precum he is leaking.
And how could he have any self control when he looks up to see Nick watching him, jaw slacked, brows knitted, eyes hazy while those quieted, delicious moans slip out of him?
Who knew Nick Folio would be so hot while getting his dick sucked?
"Fuck, Noah," he groans, trying to stay quiet. "How are you so good at this?"
When he hums teasingly, a dangerously audible moan comes out of Nick.
His hand flies up to cover his mouth, the other pulling Noah's hair hard enough to make his eyes water, but he doesn't care. No, Noah wants Nick to come completely undone, and he loves having his hair pulled.
He continues to moan against Folio's cock and finally gives in to reaching in his boxers to start taking care of his own aching boner. The precum slicks easily over his length, offering a little bit of help with the friction. But between that, the sounds his drummer is making, and how good it feels to nearly gag on someone's dick again, he probably won't last long anyway.
Nick's hips start lifting, his thighs trembling, and Noah has to stop touching himself because he can't focus. The closer he gets him, the faster and deeper he goes. Gasps and heavy breathing and whining fill Noah's head and go straight between his legs. He did not expect to get so turned on by one of his bandmates, but he just sounds and feels and tastes so good.
"Noah, you should —. I can't," Nick pants suddenly. "I'm close."
As much as he doesn't want to stop, Noah slips off Nick's cock, his mouth immediately replaced by Nick's hand.
Desperate and aching, Noah sheds his own shorts and underwear. Folio's eyes fall to the singer's hips and against his will, he whimpers. If he weren't so close to coming, he would drop to his knees and return the favor even though he had no experience.
Nick reaches out and grabs Noah's hand, jolting him forward so hard that the only option is for Noah to plant his knees on the couch on either side of his blissed out friend. He catches himself before he can fall on him completely, but even the space between them radiates like a furnace.
His hand is grabbed again and Nick spits into it, seemingly much more sure of himself on the brink of climax. He is moving a little slower now, but still pumps himself rough and hungrily.
"Fuck, I'm gonna come," Nick gasps, grabbing Noah and pulling him close enough to bury his face in his tattooed neck. "I'm gonna come."
Words are rushed and shaky as they both urgently stroke themselves and breathe hot air on each other's ears and necks.
"You want me to come with you?"
"I want you to come with me."
"You want me to come all over you?"
"Yes, fuck, please!"
In seconds, Nick's face is dug into the crook of Noah's neck, praising the frontman's name in a muffled cry. Hot ropes of cum spurt on both of their torsos as the moan turns to whines and shallow breaths.
Noah bites his tongue so hard to hold back his own noises that he starts to taste blood. He doesn't last, not with the sound of Folio's needy moans as he finishes, the warmth of his release on Noah's skin. All it takes is a few more fast, tight jerks of his fist before he's nuzzled into Folio's hair, his head forced down to watch as Noah shoots string after string of his own cum all over Folio's tattoo and and ribs.
By the time they're done, the room is humid and smells like sex, a problem they didn't even consider before giving into their horny flirtations. But they don't say anything, they just both catch their breath until Noah climbs off the couch and uses the inside of his shirt to wipe their mess off of Folio's body.
It is silent as they both get dressed again, then for a few seconds after once Nick finally finds the bottle of Febreeze he knew they kept back here somewhere.
"I, uh, didn't know you knew how to do that," he tells Noah.
Despite how awkward this should be, Noah just smiles a little. He can't help it.
"I've experimented."
"Definitely one of the best I've had," Nick says with an airy laugh. "Sorry, maybe that's weird."
Noah chuckles with him. "No, it's a compliment."
They fall silent again while the room is sprayed, then watch each other hesitantly.
Noah knows this may have been a bad idea, that it maybe never should have happened, but he has never felt more relieved on the road. All he can hope is that Nick doesn't regret it. That's all he is worried about.
"We. . . don't have to do anything like that again if you don't want to," he mutters.
As of today, 100 random people on this floating rock in space have decided to follow me on this app and I am baffled.
I’m so happy I finally decided to commit. It’s nice to know I’m not the only one who likes the shit in my drafts. If you see this I’m sending you a virtual forehead kiss as a thank you <3
Chat I have been outrageously busy for like the past month but we are on our way back!!! (plot twist no one cares that much and I’m stressed for nothing lol)
Noah x Folio fic coming this week for drummer boy’s bday, working on a Ricky idea that may be more long form, maybe a little Zelli maybe a little Will Ramos?!
I miss writing and reading (so behind on literally everything) I can’t wait to stalk everyone’s blogs :)
hi I have a question, do you write (band) member x member?
I would be more than happy to, I just haven’t gotten around to it yet! There’s definitely some bits and pieces in my prep for kinktober lol. If you have any requests I’ll take ‘em :)
Mainly I’ve been on my bad omens and motionless bs but I’ll also write for lorna shore, paleface, spiritbox, bvb, sleep token, and some others so crossovers are also totally welcome!
Summary: You and Nick have been super busy, so you spend time together where you can.
Content: fluff, gender neutral, swearing, nudity, non-explicit mentions of sex, nothing crazy here
Word count: 1.6k
a/n: the writing here is so mid but I saw a couple of the pics in the banner and brain went brrrr apparently I have a thing for showers? First the Vinny fic and now this? I guess there are worse options ✨
What a long fucking day.
Graduation season is the worst in terms of work-life balance. The money is always good because you get such a swarm of people wanting senior pictures, but you always overbook yourself. Even when you say you won't, you do. Someone tells you how you have the best prices they can find and they love your work, or their friend used you last year, or everyone else is booked. And, like usual, you cave and squeeze them in. It is a vicious cycle that you can’t help but repeat.
Your bathroom is cool from the air conditioning pumping through the vents, but you crank the shower up to a medium heat. As it heats up, you step away to get a towel and hang it over the curtain with a sigh.
Steam starts to creep in from the edges of the mirror towards the center. Your reflection fades as you wash your face and the running water subtly numbs your mind. It still races with the photos that need editing, the weather for tomorrow and how it might affect your shots, half of it things that you never have to worry about on the road.
After stripping off your clothes and letting your skin breathe, you slide the shower curtain aside and step into the warm stream of water.
It soaks your hair and into your body, melting your tense muscles and calming your nerves. You close your eyes and heave a breath of relief at the feeling. The water washes off the stress and chaos of the day with every trail it makes cascading over you.
As you lather shampoo into your hair, there is a gentle knock on the bathroom door. You smile a little at the sound and rinse the soap off your hands. Quiet shuffling begins and once you have your hair rinsed, a cool draft of air sweeps over your abdomen.
You open your eyes and are met with deep, warm brown and a soft smile.
Nick reaches forward and grabs your hand, stepping in closer so he can wrap his arms around your waist. You grin at him and turn so he can get under the water. His hair is in a mediocre bun at the crown of his head, so at least you won't both be trying to wash your hair at the same time. He turns so the water is on your back again, but neither of you move to keep cleaning off.
"Hey, baby," you whisper over the running water.
Your arms settle around his neck and he keeps you flush against his body.
"Hi, love," he murmurs back. "I hope you don't mind me joining."
"Not at all. I've barely seen you for the past two weeks," you say.
"I know. I've missed you."
You lean in and press a tender kiss to his lips. His hands shift so his fingers dig into your skin, keeping you close. It's not a long kiss. It is lazy and tired from how long your days have been, neither of you able to be bothered with much energy.
Nick had been on the phone when you got home. He was standing in the living room by the couch rather than sitting down. You knew he was on a work call from the look on his face, and the stoic expression meant it wasn't just Noah or one of the other guys. He gave you a quick smile before answering whoever was on the line, something about cables. You gave him a quick side hug and he left a silent kiss on your temple while you whispered you were going to shower.
You had been fortunate enough to do a lot of camera work for Bad Omens since you met Nick. It allows you the freedom to tour with them or at least join for several dates and see him more often than you would if you had any other job. But there are some times of year that are insanely busy and this is one of them, which has you out of the house working or holed away editing about as often as he is in the studio. It hasn't been this bad in a while, but with the next album being in steady progress, he is home a bit less just like you are. This wouldn't be the first time it has been like this either, but at least now you are both able to manage it a bit better.
The last time almost tore you both apart until you finally knocked some sense into yourselves and actually talked about how hard it had been. Sure, it took the most heated argument you’ve ever had and a couple nights on your friend’s couch to get there, but it was needed.
Both of you had found your person in each other and even after a few seamless years together, something had to give. There was bound to be a fight along the line and you were just grateful it wasn’t worse. It was nothing a little change in perspective couldn’t change.
"I miss you, too," you mumble, pulling away just enough to speak. "We probably shouldn't waste all this water by standing around, though."
His lip twitches up like he will start laughing, but he only nods and loosens his grip so you can actually both carry on with bathing while starting idle conversation about your days of work. You get conditioner to start working in while he works on scrubbing at his arms, then his abdomen and legs before turning to let you work the soap over his back. What tension he still carries in his shoulders dissipates and they fall to a more normal resting position. Once you have him caked in bubbles, he rinses off and you carry on with your own body wash.
He is already prepared to return your favor when you expose your back to him. His rough hands are softened by the water and they glide effortlessly. You revel in the touch before he uses the actual cloth you have soap on. Despite how it grates against your skin, his movements are smooth and relaxing. The relief has you going quiet, letting the conversation slip away as your mind and racing thoughts go with it.
Before you can get back under the water, he sets the soaked towel aside and despite the heat of the water, which he turned up, his fingertips gliding over your hips gives you goosebumps. You feel him smiling when he nestles himself into your neck, nose brushing your earlobe before falling to your shoulder. His hands disrupt the water flowing onto you and he trails them around, over your belly and then up and down your sides, lips planting the same lazy kisses all over your shoulder and your neck.
You hum in satisfaction and lean back onto his chest, letting your head linger to the side he isn't nipping at so he has room to continue.
"Do we have to get out?" He asks, his voice full of disappointed pleading.
"Yes, sadly," you reply.
"Just a few more minutes?"
"Nick," you say with a halfhearted laugh.
"Fine," he whines and turns you so the rest of your body and hair can quickly get cleaned off.
He pushes his fingers through your hair, rinsing the conditioner that had been sitting until it is all washed out. You look at him, water droplets all over, vulnerable and truly himself, and decide another minute can't hurt.
You loop your arms around his waist and he meets your kiss with his own. It is still loose and drawn out, but there is always a sensuality to the way you kiss each other that leaves no room for doubt. One of you could be half asleep and it would still be sweet and loving. He has always been able to say more with his lips than his voice and you learned how to speak that language just as fluently.
The water stops hitting your back and only reaches the lower part of your leg as he leans you into the wall, hands running up your arms and resting at your jaw. Soft, quiet moments of intimacy like this are something you and Nick do well, just not often enough over the past month. It feels like a re-connection and establishing what you both know, but love to be reminded of: what it feels like to love one another. And it always makes you happy to remember that you can show this much physical affection to each other while dripping wet and slippery in a shower without needing to take it any further. Sure, you have amazing sexual chemistry and there is no lack of lust and desire, but sometimes this is better.
You are turning off the water a minute later, unable to get over how much you’re already wasting. Both of your towel now hang over the curtain rod and you hand his off before taking your own to dry off. Nick helps you get dried even though he doesn't need to because he likes the principle of it, leaving himself to air dry until you’re finished.
The comfortable silence lingers while you do some quick skin care and he gets changed into his clean sleep pants and t-shirt. Nick rests his hands on your hips and watches you apply your favorite moisturizer.
"You still have editing to do?" He asks.
"Always," you sigh and turn around as he releases you from his hold. "You have music to practice?"
"Always," he echoes and grabs his phone from the counter.
"Does it count as spending time together if we both go into the office and work on our own stuff?" You suggest.
Nick chuckles and then shrugs his shoulders. "Good enough for me. I’ll order dinner—unless you feel like cooking.”
“Fuck no,” you scoff, making him laugh.
You pick up your sets of dirty clothes and head towards the door. "I'll try not to let you distract me from work,” you say with a joking wink.
Nick stops you before you can get too far, tugging you back against his chest. His lips graze the arch of your ear and it makes your breath catch.
“Speak for yourself. I will gladly let you distract me,” he mutters with a hint of that sexy smirk he keeps hidden just for you. “Maybe I’ll find another use for that new desk of yours.”
Summary: A patron flirts with you at work, but Nick crushes his dreams.
Content: language, suggestive/sexual comments, alcohol, semi-educated motorcycle talk, public makeout, Nick turns out to be a good lil pretty boy
update: I just realized I did use “ma’am” once for reader but that is the only gendered term sorry! 🥲
Word count: 3k
I’ve been insanely busy with prepping to move recently but I finally got around to finishing something!
This feels pretty random and not at all what I thought it was going to be when I started but at this point I just wrote shit and don’t feel like reworking it so hopefully someone out there likes it lol if it sucks don’t tell me
The noise of the bar has grown on you over the years. You never thought you would like it—the clientele, the energy, the backbone it forced you to grow—but this place has become home.
The crack of the balls on the pool table cuts through the Disturbed song playing in the speakers, followed by a bellowed laugh. It gets disrupted by a glass hitting the bar top, then the ding of the bell over the front door.
You lift your gaze from the beer tap that pours a light lager into the glass in your hand, meeting the smile of an older man clad in leather and denim. His beard and mustache almost obscure it and his eyes never show much, but you know him well enough to know he is having a good day. And if that didn't tell you, the wind-whipped look of his thin ponytail gives it away.
"Hey, Cary!" You call out over the noise with a grin.
He grunts and lifts his hand in a wave. "Evenin,' kid."
By now, you know how long each tap takes to fill a pint. In the spare couple of seconds you have, you watch the door again to see if it will open, but it stays closed.
"No Eric today?" You ask.
"Nah, he's got the wife's parents in town," Cary answers and shrugs off his heavy leather jacket.
"Yikes," you reply with a laugh and hand the pint to one of the other patrons a few chairs down. "Let him know I'm praying for him!"
The gruff man chuckles as well and nods. "Will do."
He greets another man at a booth by the dart board, bald and covered in fading American traditional tattoos that are revealed by his sleeveless flannel. The cracking vinyl of the seat probably opens up more when he slumps down into it.
By the time he tosses his jacket over the back of the booth, you are already walking to them. You snag the cap of a fresh Miller Lite with the bottle opener tied to a belt loop of your jeans, popping it off and tucking it in your pocket.
"Thanks," Cary says when you set the bottle on the table.
"Keep 'em coming?"
"You met this guy?" The other man jokes, pointing to Cary and laughing a little. "Just put him on my tab."
"Yeah, then I'll pay it all when we leave." Cary laughs. "Cheap ass."
You chuckle with them and start to inch back towards the bar. "As long as someone's paying!"
Their conversation falls into the camaraderie of the room as you head to your usual spot. You grab a few empty bottles and pint glasses as you go, using every bit of finger, hand, and arm space possible. There is only a 'Thank you' here or there, which bothered you in the beginning with this job. But it doesn't faze you now that you know every middle-aged man, unbothered wife or girlfriend, and grandfathered-in young guy here loves you.
The rumble of another approaching motorcycle splits through the closed doors as you wash the glasses you retrieved. You step away from cleaning for a minute to wipe down a couple of tables and take payment from the group of mid-30s men at one side of the bar, then head back to dry everything.
When the bell chimes, you glance over and see a man walk in with that look on his face that screams 'Wow, I've never been in a biker bar before.'
He is clad in full, clean-cut, stiff riding gear. All black other than some white detailing, backpack slung over one shoulder, shaggy brown hair messy from the Ruroc helmet clutched in his hand.
"Welcome in!"
His eyes shift to you and they linger for a second before he smiles a little. You have already turned around to put glasses away when he starts walking to the bar.
"Thanks.”
The voice fits him, gravelly and somewhat low. It checks out when you look at him, his dark blue eyes and the tattoos peaking out at the base of his neck.
When he sets his helmet on a stool and then sits on the seat next to it, you raise your eyebrows.
"Taking up one of my seats for your helmet?" You ask, smirking a little. "That'll cost you $5."
He raises his groomed eyebrows right back at you. "Is that so?"
"Yeah. That's a tip I could've made."
The realization settles and he nods slowly, smiling like he finds the joke genuinely amusing.
"That's a good tactic," he says.
"The first-timers learn fast," you answer. "What can I get you?"
"IPA. Your pick," he replies while taking off his gloves, revealing a couple more partial tattoos.
You are already reaching for a glass, but still ask, "Draft?"
"Please." He smiles.
The sunset sends glaring yellow light through a space in the window blinds, flashing in your eyes as you move around. You fall into your usual rhythm. Fill the glass, run his card, hand over the drink. Then you walk away to make sure everyone has new drinks and water and snacks.
After a quick round of checking in, you're back and refilling the coolers.
"I'm Kade."
You turn and look up to see the newcomer leaning onto the bar with his arms crossed under him, a lingering smile on his face.
You give him your name and extend your hand to shake. He gives you a lighthearted grip in return.
"Nice day out there," you say, leaning into conversation so he doesn't feel awkward and lonely.
"Perfect, actually. Little bit of a tailwind, mild, a few clouds," he answers dreamily and shakes his head. "I saw the forecast and had to take a trip just to ride."
"Not from around here then?" You ask.
He smirks a little. "Wouldn't you like to know."
"Careful," you tut, but smile nicely anyway. "I got a lot of dads in here."
Kade chuckles and looks around, seeming to move on from the comment. "This a busy night for you?"
You shrug and tell him, "They all blend together in the season. Might be a little busier, but I've worked much crazier on my own."
"So you run the place?"
"Hell no, that would be a little much for me. I just make drinks and take everyone's money."
"I can imagine you bring in quite a bit," he says, a suggestion settling under it.
"Comes and goes," you sigh to dismiss the comment.
The sense of being in a situation you should avoid starts to build up, so you walk away to make another round. You refill a few drinks before ending up back where you were, almost alone with Kade other than the two regulars a few seats down from him.
"You really do know everyone here," he announces.
"I've only had three years to get to know them," you answer sarcastically.
"You ride?"
"Only in the backseat. I prefer being able to control the temperature of my everyday transportation."
He shakes his head and grins. "It's not so bad once you get used to it."
You look over his gear pointedly and smile back apologetically. "Says the guy in all black who rides around on a mobile grill."
"To be fair," he says through a laugh, "my bike goes fast enough to kill some of the heat."
At that, you roll your eyes. "Oh, you're one of those."
"One of what?"
"You think your bike is so cool because it's fast."
He smirks. "No, I know it's cool because it's a Yamaha R6."
"I hate to break it to you, dear, but this is not a sports bike kind of joint," you answer lightheartedly.
Before he can answer, the doors open with a bell chime that quickly gets drowned out by laughter. The sound sends relief through your body, warmth down your spine, and you don't even have to look to see who it is.
"Oh shit! Davis, it's Tool night!" You hear the shout through all the chatter, followed by a few cheers and greetings.
Your smile grows before you can stop it, but you have to at least try to keep doing your job.
"Anything else I can get for you? Or should I close you out?" You ask Kade.
He looks like he is thinking and eyes how you brace your hands on the bar. Then, that traveler's glint appears. It is the hopeful look of a man who has no idea who you are.
"How about your number? I'll gladly take a backpack," he finally says.
Your eyes flit behind him and you almost laugh, but try to protect his ego and just smile empathetically.
"You're barking up the wrong tree," you tell him.
The rejection doesn't quite make it to him.
"Oh, come on. Why not? I promise I'm responsible," he tries again.
The swinging half door that separates the bar from the rest of the room swings open with a creak, and then hands are snaking around your waist. Warmth covers your torso and your back, the smell of wind and leather surrounding you. And with your eyes still on the hopeful patron, lips press into your temple, your cheek, then your neck.
"Hey, baby," Nick greets you, lips close to your ear and the grin evident in his tone.
The deep blue eyes of the newbie lock on your boyfriend who has tugged you tight against his body and laid a clear territory without even knowing it. Then, he looks at you, deflated.
You point back at Nick. "Sorry, I've already got one."
Nick seems to realize now that you are in the middle of doing your job, as if he had no idea you were with a customer before he waltzed back here and started attacking you. It is a fairly normal occurrence, but he insists he doesn't interrupt you on purpose.
"Oh, hey man. Welcome in, I'm Nick!" He says cheerfully, oblivious to the situation.
With no hesitation, Nick offers his hand to Kade. You take in his messy brown hair, the euphoric smile that sticks on his face, the leather vest hanging on his shoulders, and enjoy the second to appreciate how insanely hot he is.
The guy who just tried to hit on you hesitates for a second, then forces a smile and shakes your boyfriend's hand.
Based on the way both of their knuckles lighten in color, you wonder if maybe they do know what just happened.
"Kade," he says to Nick. "Thanks."
"That your R6 out there? I didn't recognize it. We don't usually get the sport guys in here," your boyfriend asks, chuckling.
"Yeah, that's me," Kade answers.
"Sick, man. Can't beat a Harley, but those are still cool as fuck."
Kade seems to bristle a little and glances at you, then back at Nick. "I mean, I kind of can beat a Harley."
"If you two are gonna measure, could you do it outside?" You interrupt.
The comment gets Nick's attention and he looks at you curiously, then at Kade, then back at you. It takes a second for the dots to fully connect.
Then he laughs. "Oh! Damn, I timed that good, didn't I?"
"Pretty perfectly," you tell him.
"Okay, well, I'm gonna go touch tables for you so you can wrap this up in peace," Nick says to you, then turns to Kade. "Sorry, man. Definitely not beating the Harley on this one, but there's probably a single bartender at Bobcat's down the freeway eastbound."
You are trying not to laugh when Nick walks off, tossing his vest on the back counter and grabbing a rag to go clean.
The amused smile on your customer's face from before is gone. He pushes the almost empty glass closer to you and grabs his wallet from his bag.
"Definitely don't go to Bob's. Half those people don't shower more than twice a week," you tell him.
He smiles awkwardly. "Thanks."
He hands over cash and you open the till drawer. "Change?"
"Keep it," he says and tugs on his gloves, sliding off the seat. "Help your boyfriend buy a better bike."
The animosity makes you chuckle. "I'll tell him he should get that Ninja 10R just for you."
"Okay, I'm gonna go before you insult me even more," he answers, but you catch the hint of playfulness that dulls the edge of his words.
"Ride safe," you tell him.
He grabs his helmet and waves with the other hand. "Let me know if you ever decide to trade up."
"Oh, I won't!" You call after him, both of you smiling as he makes his way out.
You only have time to make sure the others at the bar are taken care of before Nick is back and your lips are crushed against his.
His fingers slide under the hem of your shirt, pulling you in until there's not even enough space for a sheet of paper between you. A laugh slips out of your lips at how eager he is, but it doesn't stop him.
Nick loves to prove a point when some random guys comes in and flirts with you. He knows you don't need to be reminded how obsessed he is, but he likes to make sure.
After he shuffles you backwards and with the help of a jump, he hauls you up onto the shorter counter on the back wall. His body is slotted between your legs, which hook around his waist, and he holds you in a near suffocating kiss. The heat of his lips has you panting and gasping for air, but maybe some of the warmth in your face is because he is making out with you where the whole Friday evening crowd can see you.
But you very quickly decide you don't care. This isn't a normal workplace where you will get reprimanded, and everyone here has accepted you as their own. They would deal with a lot just to keep you because you didn't run off with your tail between your legs week one. Once you got to know them, they were all big teddy bears, and they had the fear of God put into Nick the second he started making moves.
A whistle comes from somewhere behind Nick, so you hold up your middle finger and choose to ignore it.
When Nick slows, he has that cocky smile on his face. "Everyone just loves to come here and flirt with you? Huh?"
"It happens, like, once every couple months!" You argue.
"Every couple weeks, you mean."
You pull him in again and grin against his lips, unable to help yourself. "Stop talking,"
He hums in amusement and keeps kissing you, hands starting to slide up higher into dangerous territory. The rough skin of his hands and fingertips sends heat and chills through you in waves, then they start teasingly slipping under the waist of your jeans by just a few centimeters.
"I'm gonna come back there and get my beer myself if you guys are just gonna shove your tongues down each other's throats!"
The kiss is destroyed by both of you grinning in amusement.
You uncross your ankles and press your hand into Nick's chest, then shove him back. He groans, but gives in because he knows better than to push it with you. Even when he is high one adrenaline and wind from a ride and all he wants to do is dive headfirst into you, he knows you don't let him get in the way of work if you're alone.
He grabs your sides to help you down as you hop off the counter. You make to brush past him when you see Cary leaning against the bar, watching with raised eyebrows.
Before you even get two feet away, Nick's hand lands a half-hearted slap to your denim-covered butt that makes you jump.
Should you have expected it? Probably, but you still turn and glare at him while you head for the cooler of Miller.
"You know," Cary starts, and you turn to see him watching Nick with narrowed eyes, "you're gonna regret that when you're bent over some day and you feel like a bolt of lightning just went up your ass and down your leg."
"Oh, don't worry. He knows the risks," you say as you hand over the opened bottle and smirk, glancing at your boyfriend whose face starts to drain of color.
Cary looks between you both for a second, then chuckles quietly and nods in approval. Nick looks horrified before the older man even walks away.
"Why would you say that?" He asks, wide-eyed.
"What?" You reply and walk closer to lower your voice. "You don't want anyone to know how familiar I am with you bent over?"
Nick's eyes dart around at the room behind you like he thinks someone will hear.
You grab Nick's chin and turn his head towards yours again, his eyes locking on yours. The claiming fire that had been smoldering in them earlier is different now, more desperate despite how he tries to keep a straight face. But you know you would feel his heart racing if you checked.
"They're all missing out if they haven't tried it, though. Aren't they, pretty boy?"
His breathing falters and he nods a little.
"What was that?" You ask, taunting.
"Babe —."
"Hmm?"
He looks around again, as much as you'll let him, then brings his eyes back to yours and lets another smile peek through.
"Yes, ma'am," he mutters.
You hum and bring your lips around to his ear, dipping a little lower to leave a soft, teasing kiss on his neck.
"Good boy. Now go have fun with the guys and maybe I'll let you pick what we use tonight if you behave."
There is a glimmer in his eyes when you pull back, and he nods enthusiastically before leaving you to work in, well, not quite peace.
Content Warnings: 18+, explicit, semi-public sex in a broom closet, dry humping, degradation, thigh riding, handjobs
Vinny was frustrated. Not in a typical ‘this place has shitty internet, and now I can’t play League’ kind of frustrated either. No, he was more frustrated with the fact that it seemed as though every single time he had even an ounce of alone time with his boyfriend, it was interrupted. Everyone getting off the bus to explore? Perfect, until one decides to stay behind. Vinny and Ricky about to go out somewhere? Perfect, until someone decides that also sounds like a great idea. And don’t get Vinny started on the fact that every time the two are in the dressing room alone, it feels like everyone suddenly forgot something and has to circle back one by one.
So, yes, Vinny was frustrated because he couldn’t get laid.
It also might have to do with the fact that his luggage was delayed from their previous flight, and he was running on maybe four hours of sleep for the past week, but Vinny was sure all of his problems would be solved if he simply got laid.
He was standing in front of a mirror, his shirt abandoned somewhere in the room as he began to mix the paint up in the bottle, swirling his brush around to combine any paint that had separated to avoid it being a watery mess. Arms loosely wrapped around his waist, and a quick glance in the mirror showed Rick directly behind him, fingers gently brushing over the exposed skin of his stomach and hips. Justin had just stepped out, leaving the two of them alone, but for how long?
Placing down the paint and brush, careful not to spill anything, his hands rested overtop of Ricky’s as he leaned back into his chest with a pleased little hum from the warmth that was radiating off of him. Gentle kisses were being left on his shoulders as pale fingers dipped into the waistband of his jeans, just barely past the band of his boxers. He was a little relieved that it seemed Ricky was missing him in the same way.
“That door have a lock on it?” Vinny asked, breaking their silence as he shifted to be able to face Ricky, that hopeful little look in his eyes. He was only met with a chuckle, a kiss planted to his cheek.
“No. But even if it did, what do you think they would say if they came back and couldn’t get inside?” Ricky made a good point, and Vinny hates it when he does that.
“What if we found somewhere else to go? Make it quick?” Rick shot him a look, almost amused by the suggestion, and his face just screamed what he really wanted to say. ‘We don’t do quick’ could almost be heard in Vinny’s head, as though his boyfriend telepathically planted it in his head. And he was right, but Vinny was almost positive that he could finish him off in one sloppy kiss and a few tugs from how pent up he was right now.
In hindsight, maybe they should have just put a chair in front of the door and risked it. Maybe they should have circled back to the bus, and Vinny could have tried to ride Ricky in that tiny back space they had past the bunks. It seemed as though the only unoccupied space in the backend of the venue was a poorly supplied janitor's closet. But it had a dim light, just enough room for them to be pressed together, and it was plenty far away from the dressing room. Besides, this door had a lock on it.
(“What kind of stupid ass venue is this that they put a lock on a closet and not a dressing room?” Vinny had asked himself, but got no answer.)
The moment the door was shut and locked, Ricky was yanked forward with Vinny’s lips on his. Hungry, passionate, and full of a need that had been growing for the last couple of weeks. He heard the little noise of surprise, feeling the vibration against his lips, before he finally felt the kiss be returned. Hands fumbled, and hips rolled forward in desperate little attempts for more.
Feeling Ricky step forward, he had mistakenly taken too large of a step back, being pushed back right into a shelf where the back of his head collided. Vinny cursed, breaking the kiss as his hand came up to hold his head where a dull ache had been left behind. He was just going to ignore it, to move on, and keep kissing his boyfriend that he definitely wanted more than anything, and if that meant risking a concussion, then so be it. But the sound of Rick’s laugh had stopped him. When he looked at him, he had a hand over his mouth, laughing into his palm with those sweet eyes that almost looked apologetic, had it not been for the smile lines right next to them.
“It’s not funny!” Vinny playfully hit his shoulder, but it only served to pull another laugh out of him. He had finally calmed down, though, shortly after, until only a small snicker was left on his lips.
“I’m sorry, it’s not funny.” Despite his words, he could still see the smile in the dim room – well, closet. But Vinny could forgive him, even if he didn’t mean it, if it meant he could get laid.
It was awkward, maneuvering and twisting to get comfortable, their hips bucking against one another and their limbs tangled together in an effort to stay close. Vinny really didn’t want to smack his head again, so he might have stayed closer than he really needed to. Ricky managed to shove his hands under the shirt that Vinny had hastily thrown on before they left the dressing room, although part of him was really wishing that he didn’t even bother, so he could feel those calloused and rough hands on his skin without the fabric being bunched and in the way.
Vinny thinks for a second that they could pull this off. They could make this tiny closet work. Even if Ricky couldn’t fuck him like needy, wild animals, then at the very least, they could make out and grind their dicks together. Maybe Vinny would get lucky and find a way to get on his knees in here, because if he could do it, then surely Ricky could too.
But it seemed as though that was wishful thinking.
Something had fallen, a dustpan or a broom clattering to the floor and startling both of them. Ricky had jumped a little more than he had, leaving it to be his turn to bang his head back against something on the wall.
“Fuck!” He cursed, looking back at what he could have hit his head on, to see a metal rack of cleaning supplies and rags. And suddenly, Vinny could understand now where all the humor came from, a hand immediately flying to his mouth as he laughed, only slightly muffled from his palm. He could tell Ricky wanted to smack him in the arm or tell him to quit laughing, but after the annoyance disappeared from his face, he couldn’t help the giggles that escaped him too.
It felt silly. Vinny couldn’t help but find the whole situation ridiculous. Pressed so close together, both of them half hard, and risking injury over a handjob — maybe a blowjob. There was no way they could do much here, and he felt a little stupid for thinking they could.
“They couldn’t have a bigger supply closet?” Rick asked, a hand grazing the back of his head, only to come back into the light to check if he was bleeding. He wasn’t, but he checked again anyway, just to be sure.
“I think we’re probably better off waiting for the hotel tomorrow.” Vinny still had a hint of a giggle on his lips, which occasionally slipped out. He felt like a teenager right now, and he wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
“Or…how about this?” Ricky grabbed him by the hips, adjusting them so that the drummer’s back was pressed to the door. He pressed close to him again, and he could feel the slight bulge against his thigh as Ricky slotted his leg between Vinny’s. “Think you could get off like this?”
Vinny’s brain felt a little fuzzy. Something about humping his boyfriend’s leg to get off like a dog shouldn’t have been as hot as it was, and he could feel his cock stir in his jeans at the thought. He could tell Ricky could feel it too, based on the smirk that pulled on his lips, clearly very happy with his idea. Maybe they could add this to their growing list of things they were into, because Vinny had really been wanting to explore their kinks and fetishes now that they were a little further into their relationship. He made a mental note to keep this in mind for the future.
“Grind on my leg, Vin. Show me how desperate you are. You like it when I call you a whore, don’t you? Prove to me how much of a whore you are.” Vinny thinks he could cum just hearing him talk like that. In comparison to how hesitant Ricky was at first to degrade him, this was probably the hottest thing he’s ever heard.
He did exactly as he was told, rocking his hips back and forth, using Ricky’s thigh to create that desperately needed friction. The zipper of his jeans kept pressing against him, and the fabric of his underwear rubbed against his dick, getting caught for a second on the leaking tip. He buried his face in the guitarist’s neck, arms wrapped around him as he tried to muffle his noises with a mouthful of Ricky’s shirt. Little praises fell to his ears, a mix of ‘good boy’ and ‘such a good slut’ left his brain spinning.
Vinny’s hand fumbled between them, unbuttoning his jeans and pushing Rick back just enough to tug his dick out from the confines of his underwear. He whined from the lack of friction, despite causing this himself, and Ricky only laughed a little at him. It wasn’t long, maybe a few moments before he was able to feel him press his thigh right back to where it was. It shouldn’t have made him moan as loud as it did, but feeling the drag across the black denim with the warm air of the tight space brushing against his now exposed cock, he couldn’t help those noises that seemed to just flow out of him.
They couldn’t be too loud, and he knew that, so he was thankful that Ricky had pressed their lips together when he did, muffling his noises with a sloppy kiss that would certainly leave their lips red and slightly swollen. Vinny isn’t sure what was really doing it for him. Was it his tongue down his throat? The feeling of Ricky’s hard cock pressed against his thigh and the occasional rock of his hips? The fact that anyone could notice they were missing at any time, or be heard through the walls? Or was it really just the needy, desperate grinding? Whatever the case may be, he didn’t have much time to think about that right now. He was more worried about the build of warmth in the pit of his stomach and the desperation that only grew stronger.
“Rick —. Fuck,” Vinny gasped as he pulled away from the kiss, his hips moving a little quicker and a little more frantically, slowly getting sloppier. “Gonna fucking cum like this.”
“Yeah?” He panted softly, catching his breath from their kiss. Vinny could only nod, his head pressed back against the door as his breath got a little quicker. He reached down, shoving a hand into Ricky’s pants to wrap his fingers around his dick that practically throbbed in his light hold. The angle was a little awkward, and it resulted more in Ricky grinding against his palm rather than Vinny jerking him off like he had tried to do.
Vinny adjusted, placing his other hand on top of his dick, feeling the friction of his calloused hand and the rough denim. He had a brief thought that some lube would be amazing right now, but they didn’t have that luxury at the moment, so he settled on what he could focus on. At the moment, that was how Ricky was moaning as he used Vinny’s hand to get off and the weak little bucks of his hips that came with it. Who wouldn’t want to cum to the sight of that? Especially when his head was tilted back, and little strands of his hair fell out of place.
He got a little faster as he admired the guitarist, his hips bucking as his hand pressed down a little firmer. When his orgasm finally washed over him, he wasn’t thinking at all about how he had spilled those white streaks onto Ricky’s black pants. All he was thinking of was if his orgasm from simply humping the man’s leg was this good, then how was he finally going to feel tomorrow at the hotel when Ricky gave him his dick?
He barely noticed the hand over his mouth or the fact that his moan ripped through him so much louder than he had anticipated. His body shuddered, his dick pulsing and jerking weakly as he slowly came down from his high, his hips slowing until he could do nothing but twitch a little involuntarily. Vinny was so wrapped up in catching his breath and trying to come down from his high that he didn’t even recognize Ricky’s movements getting more desperate too.
“Oh shit, my bad.” Vinny laughed a little breathlessly, sounding as though he had just run a marathon. Was he apologizing for the jizz he left on Ricky’s pants or for forgetting to finish him off? Both, probably.
“Shut up, just touch me.” When Ricky got demanding like that, it was hard to ignore. In fact, if he didn’t just cum, Vinny would probably be a little hard right now. But he did as he was told, tightening his fingers slightly around his length to give him a little more friction to work with. With his thigh no longer shoved between Vinny’s legs, they were in a bit of a better position now for Ricky to fuck into the shorter man’s fist with a low moan.
Two or three thrusts later, Vinny watched as his hips jerked forward, Ricky’s head dropping down onto his shoulder as he tensed, gripping onto his shirt. The noise that came out of him was somewhere between a moan and a growl, and holy shit, it was hot. He wondered if he could get Ricky to do that in his ear while he fucked him tomorrow.
The room was filled with their heavy breaths, the two panting as they slumped against one another against the door. Vinny wasn’t sure how long they were there, just catching their breath. But he does know that he was brought back to reality rather harshly when Ricky smacked him on the chest, bringing a soft ‘oof’ out of him.
“Hey!”
“You’re leaving this room to get me a new pair of pants. I am not letting anyone else see me walking around with your cum on my jeans.”
The price he has to pay, he guesses. But he would do it again, and he hoped Ricky would want to as well. Just maybe not in a broom closet, or in his favorite pair of jeans.
Have some visual inspos that I’ve been working on:
Meet Evergreen Agony, the (fictional) widely debated U.S. metalcore band best known for their junior album Poltergeist (2021) which was released alongside a nearly 2-hour self-made documentary detailing the LP’s creation, career reflection, and humble storytelling. The 5-piece group is also known for their extensive social and legal battles with past talent manager Samuel Lovell, and complex history with rival east-coast metalcore giants, Motionless in White.
spoilers below?
Estella Kostas, frontperson (2014-present)
Lukas Hart, guitarist (2014-2024)
Manny Moreno, guitarist (2014-present)
Lizzy Benson, bassist (2014-present)
Asher Benson, drummer (2014-present)
Side notes:
- Ash and Liz absolutely share clothes because they both dress (and are) fruity
- Manny has more muscles than he knows what to do with. To this day no one knows how he has time to write insane riffs, stream at 3am, meal prep like his life depends on it, match with pretty boys on grindr, and hit the gym for 2 hours all in one day
- I think you can really tell with these who runs on energy drinks, who runs on espresso, and who runs on pre-workout
- Don’t know how well these all came across in the writing but this is the vibes
princess treatment ₊˚⊹♡ sugar daddy!jolly x f!reader
warnings: power dynamics
word count: 3.1k
notes: it's finally sugar daddy!jolly time. i've been thinking about this for a while and i finally managed to write something with it. pls let me know if you'd like more of this <33
masterlist |taglist sign-up
Sometimes it still feels a little odd.
The apartment you’re in should be unobtainable for you. And it was up until a few months ago. Without Jolly, you would still be in your dingy little place. But he’d insisted that you deserved more and that he’d be more than happy to provide that for you.
Sometimes this whole agreement feels a little odd — in reality you couldn’t be happier that you had ended up with him and not some sleazebag who would be all too excited to abuse the delicate balance you have. But no, Jolly doesn’t want a lot from you in exchange for what he gives you. He doesn't want sex or favours, all he asks for is company. You’re still not entirely sure how he came to have all of this money. He’s never said that the topic is off limits, but who are you to question that hand that quite literally feeds you.
Aside from the apartment, Jolly provides you with a generous allowance for your everyday expenses. That balance doesn’t include purchases for events he takes you to.
You’re going some fancy dinner later today. He’s already taken you to various beauty treatments, fully knowing that you wouldn’t do it on your own. You also know how much joy it brings him to pamper you. Making sure that you’re well taken care of is one of his favourite things.
You pick up your phone from the bedside table.
As always there’s a text from Jolly already waiting for you.
Good morning my dear, I’m coming over with breakfast at 9. The stylist is coming an hour earlier so that you’ll have more time to get ready.
You check the time — it’s just after eight.
One of Jolly’s requests for you had been that you follow a daily routine he had set up for you. Really it’s a small thing in return for everything he does for you. If you hadn’t met him when you did your financial situation could have ended up a lot more — dire. And if all you have to do in return is go to events with him and get up when he asks you to you’d gladly do it. The routine had come up in one of your early conversations, where you had mentioned that structuring your days sometimes felt like an overwhelming nightmare. He’d offered to make it part of the exchange, giving you a little helping hand to figure things out.
You know that he will expect you to be ready by the time he arrives, so you will yourself out of bed and under the shower. You had quickly learned that Jolly moves in a very different sphere from you. When you had first moved into this place, it had been stocked with luxury products that would have been very far out of your price range before. He’d been surprised to find that you preferred the less expensive products you have been used to over the fancy stuff he enjoyed. Of course, you had kept some of his recommendations now that you could afford them. Some of the skincare items he had encouraged you to buy when he had taken you out for a shopping trip, had become new favourites of yours.
Jolly never enters your apartment without notifying you first, despite having a key. You buzz him into the place, patiently waiting by the door for him. A few minutes pass before you hear the elevator doors slide open, announcing that he's made it to your floor. You still feel a little nervous around him. Something about him sets your entire nervous system alight. Your heart makes a little thump when he rounds the corner towards your door.
Jolly gives you a little wave, holding up the paper bag from one of the cafés he likes to get breakfast from on occasion. He tries to meet you for breakfast at least once a week, but you know that his schedule doesn’t always permit that. He’s a busy man, which is exactly why he has struggled with traditional relationships. The agreement you have gives him what he wants — company and someone to take care of — and takes the financial burden off your shoulders. The parameters of your relationship had changed over the weeks and month. He had eased off some of his initially rather controlling demeanour, while you had learned that you learned that you liked having someone else in charge on occasion.
“Good morning, dear.” he says, coming to stand in front of you.
As always, he’s dressed in all black. The surprise is that his hair is down for once — a weakness of yours, but you won’t let him know that. Your relationship isn’t like that. He’s made it explicitly clear that isn’t for anything romantic or sexual.
“Good morning.” you mirror.
You allow him into your space. Whatever he’s brought for your breakfast today smells absolutely divine. Jolly walks ahead of you into the kitchen. He’ll prepare whatever still needs to be done. You take your usual seat by the kitchen island.
“How was your night? Did you sleep alright?” he asks, as he begins to work on your coffees.
“The new pillows are a lot better.” you reply, “Thank you for buying them.”
“Of course, dear. I’m glad they helped you.” Jolly says with a soft smile.
You watch him for a moment. The practised repetition makes his movements look so very effortless. You love watching him. It’s a brief glimpse into something you won’t ever have.
“How did you sleep?” You ask after a few more moments of silence.
Jolly lets out a heavy sigh, “It was a very short night for me. I had to let go one of my assistants and spent most of the night cleaning up his mess.”
With how tense his shoulders look it’s easy to tell how heavy this all weighs on him. You flash him a sympathetic look, hoping that it’ll ease some of that burden.
“I’m sorry. At least we’ll have a nice day today.”
“That we will.” He says softly, “Would you be so kind and put out plates on the table, dear? We’ll need the big ones.”
You do as he asks, plucking two of the gorgeous flower motif plates from the drawer. When you had moved into this place, Jolly had given you several options for the interior, allowing you to make the space feel like it’s truly your own.
“What did you get for us?” You ask as you place the plates and cutlery on the table.
“I went to the little boulangerie you like so much. I got you that yogurt pot you like from there too.”
The gesture makes your heart thump a little. He remembers so much of what you tell him, all of the little one time mentions appear to be saved somewhere in his head.
In a couple of minutes the table is set with all the options he brought. It’s a nice spread of things, some of it will be left over and as always he will insist that you keep all of it here.
You don’t bring up work again once you’ve sat down for breakfast. Jolly has once told you that being in your apartment feels like he’s able to actually clock out for the first time. He leaves his phone in the chest of drawers next to your door when he arrives and only picks it up again when he leaves.
He asks about your week, how your lunch with friends was the day before. And in turn you ask about the trip he’s mentioned — a week in Sydney.
“Do you want to come with me?” He asks between bites of his pastry.
He's been on trips before since you started this, but this is the first time he’s asked if you’d join him.
“I only have two meeting that week so you wouldn't have to be alone a lot. I know you’ve wanted to go.”
“I wouldn't want to be a burden.” You reply out of habit.
Jolly flashes you a stern look, “What have I told you about this?”
You what he wants to hear from you.
Your constant worry about burdening him had clashed with his desire to care for someone right from the start. Jolly’s determination to make you actually believe that you’re not burdening him is honestly commendable.
“I know you said it’s not a burden.”
“It's not.” He says, still sounding rather stern, “You know that me taking care of you is a part of this agreement. I would have asked you to come with me on other trips, but I wouldn’t have had a lot of time for you. And I don’t want you to feel like I’m dragging you along for my entertainment only.”
His hand shifts on the surface of table and for a second you wonder if he’s going to reach out for you.
But he doesn’t.
You’ve only slowly started get closer physically. You suppose that both of you have been hesitant to do that out of the worry that it’ll bring you too close. And so you stay at a distance, always careful to not get too attached to him.
You agree to come to Sydney with him, even if it already fills you with nerves.
It’ll be nice to see more of the world — especially with him.
After breakfast, Jolly excuses himself again to get back to his work for a couple of hours. He’ll be back in time to pick you up for dinner, meaning that you’ll have most of the day to yourself.
He only returns when the stylist is already there and hard at work. This is another thing you’re not quite used to yet. Before you would have just done all of this on your own, but Jolly makes hiring a stylist sound like the most normal thing to do.
You catch him watching you from the door. And as much as you try to deny it there’s something awfully fond about the way he looks at you. He’s already dressed for the evening — sharp as always in a clean all black suit and shirt.
“Absolutely gorgeous — as always.” he says as the stylist steps away to view their work.
The stylist looks over to him, waiting for him to say more.
“Thank you for your work. I’ll take care of the rest.” He says after a few more seconds.
You watch silently as the stylist picks up. As they leave, they inform Jolly of something you can quiet hear from where you’re sitting. He gives a curt nod, shakes their hand and shows them towards the door.
He waits until the door has fallen shut again before he steps back into the bedroom.
“They did great work, didn’t they? Not that it’d be hard with you.” He says gently, “You look wonderful, my dear.”
He comes to stand behind you, placing his hands on the back of your chair. His eyes find yours in the mirror, watching you closely for a long moment.
“With the dress we picked you’ll be the centre of attention tonight. I’ll have to keep a close eye on you.”
You feel your cheeks tinge pink at his words. The attention he gives you always makes you feel a little nervous.
“Why don’t you go get dressed? I’ll help you zip up.” He says after a few more seconds of tense silence.
Jolly pulls your chair back as you get up. His hand catches your shoulders, stopping you from moving too far away. It wanders towards your chin, allowing him to inspect your face properly. You want to shrink away from the attention. It’s almost too much to bear, but the soft smile on his face somehow makes it all feel better.
“Gorgeous.” he says with a nod, “Now go. I don’t want us to be late.”
You scamper off into the dressing room where your dress is waiting for you. It’s a beautiful dark green number. You hadn’t picked it purely because it was Jolly’s favourite but you always consider his opinion when you make your choices.
“I talked to our host tonight. You’ll enjoy the menu.” Jolly says from the other room, “If you can't find anything I’ll take you to the diner afterwards.”
Your tummy does a little flip at that. It’s a small thing, but he always watches out for it. Always makes sure that you find something good to eat, despite how picky you can be about the choices. He’s never made a big deal out of it when he cooks for you either.
Jolly pokes his head into the room just as you slip the dress on. You watch him approach you in the mirror.
“This may be the best one we got for you so far.” he muses, as he places a warm hand on your shoulder, “I’ll have to come up with more occasions for you to wear it.”
“I’m sure you can find something.”
You feel him dragging the zipper upwards entirely too slowly almost as if he’s trying to make the moment last. His fingers linger on your skin for longer than they usually would. The touch is tender, gentle and so much more intimate. It makes every hair on your body stand up straight. Every inch of your body crawls with nerves you try so hard to suppress.
“We should go.” he says then, seemingly having shaken off the trance he’d found himself in, “Wouldn’t want us to be late.”
The dinner is good but — as always — rather boring.
Jolly’s hand doesn’t leave your thigh unless it absolutely has to. For most of the night it remains firmly attached to your leg. And for once you can quite decide if the gesture is comforting or possessive. He does make good on his promise to keep an eye on you. Every man that so much as looks at you is met with a very intent glare from him.
You mingle with some of the other plus ones while Jolly is entangled in his business conversations but thankfully you do t have to wait very long for him to return.
“Are you ready to head home?” He asks, wrapping an arm around your middle.
You give him a nod, before briefly returning your attention to the girl you’d been talking to.
“It was so nice to meet you.” You tell her, “I’ll text you and then we can figure out a date to meet up.”
You can feel Jolly’s approving gaze on your face. He’s always encouraged you to make your own connections at these events, all in the hopes that you'll eventually have circle to fall back on when he’s not there. He’s acknowledged how isolating this agreement could be for you. Some of your friends hadn’t been exactly accepting of your new situation, calling you all sorts of awful names. It had been hard to let them go despite their behaviour. Having Jolly to support you through it had been tremendously helpful.
“Driver is on his way already.” Jolly tells you as he walks you back towards the elevator, “Did you have a good time?”
“It was nice.” You reply, “The food was good and I met some nice people.”
“That’s good. I’m glad you had a good time.”
His hand is still resting on your waist when you step into the elevator. Normally this is the moment where he stops touching you. He doesn't have to keep up appearances once you're behind closed doors.
Tonight, his hand remains where it is.
“People kept asking me where I found my gorgeous girlfriend.” Jolly says, and you don’t have to look at him to know that he’s smiling, “I told them we met in a cafe.”
“It is true. Technically.”
He nods, “It is. We should go back some time. The pastries there were really nice there if I remember correctly.”
“I would like that.”
Jolly nods solemnly, but doesn’t get to say more as the elevator arrives at the lowest level — the parking garage.
The air inside the car feels stuffy — thick with something you know you can't have. That craving you have for him has never been stronger. He’s been so tactile with you, always touching you somehow. You know that you’ll never have a real relationship with him, Jolly has been more than clear about this. He doesn’t want romance and you’re not even sure if he’s even interested in something more physical.
It wasn’t explicitly ruled out in your initial agreement, but you had agreed to keep things as platonic as possible for the time being.
Regardless of what you agreed on something has changed tonight. And when you arrive back at your apartment, it becomes even more evident. Jolly drops his jacket onto the arm of your sofa.
“Would you mind if I stayed here tonight?” He asks, sounding almost a little timid.
You watch him closely.
This is new.
“Of course.” You reply quickly.
His shoulders immediately slump with relief.
“I didn’t want to assume. We don’t have to do anything. I just — I think need a little bit of that.”
You’ve noticed it throughout the day. He’s never sought this much physical contact before.
“I think that’ll be nice for both of us. I missed getting cuddles.” You reply and you try your best to hide the nerves that come with the statement.
Settling into bed with him is odd. It feels like you’re sharing a bed with a new partner for the first time and in way it is exactly like that. For a few seconds everything feels awful and stilted. You don’t know how close you can get to him without it being too much. Jolly seems to sense your reluctance. His hand loops around your middle, pulling you close against his chest.
“Is this okay for you?” He asks softly.
You shift for a few seconds, trying to get comfortable before you nod, “This is good.”
Behind you, Jolly lets out a content hum. You feel his hands shifting across your middle, until one big hand settles against your stomach. It’s heavy and warm, comforting in ways you haven’t felt before. You let yourself sink into his embrace, allowing his warmth to take over your entire being.
You don’t know how you’ve ever gone without this — or how you’ll go on without this closeness should he decide that this is a one time only thing.
And then you feel it. A barely there kiss pressed against your bare shoulder.
Your relationship has changed fundamentally tonight, and you already know that he’ll want to have a conversation about it in the morning.
