Suffice to say dating Bam was not a walk in the park. Nothing about your relationship is bad, per say, it's just that you happen to be very prone to stressing out. Often referred to by friends as the personification of the aforementioned emotion

Being a straight A student throughout your whole life and refusing to let that one personality trait go is probably the root of your issue. Getting close to someone who is your opposite in that regard seemed like a terrific solution, another half to ease your worries and prevent your forehead from getting wrinkled too early. The only problem is you chose the most chaotic other half in the entire town. Worse, even, is that you fell in love hopelessly. So you are stuck in this mess now.

You're home from college for the weekend to house sit for your parents as they travel for their anniversary. Picking you up at the bus station, your boyfriend noticed the chewed cuticles and reddened skin, a manifestation of your anxiety for finals. If he didn't catch onto that, there was no way he could've missed the notes and calculations scribbled on a loose notebook page your eyes continued darting over during the drive. 

"If you don't look at me right now I’m eating that piece of paper, I am not fucking joking." 

One hand on the wheel, his other one hangs beside his temple, elbow leaning on the open window. Blue irises are side-eyeing you hard, curls kept away from them by a black snapback he knew you hated. 

Taking advantage of the red light, you grab his face and peck his lips. "Sorry. Hi."

"Much better. Now, my mom went a little overboard because she misses you, so I hope you're hungry enough to eat for a whole generation of Margeras."

You should have seen an ambush coming. 

Back in your house after lunch, instead of finding your parents packing the car, you're met with Rake, Dico, Raab and Ryan setting up the place for a party. Bam promises it's for your own good. 

Having daily phone calls as evidence of how much time you had already put into studying, it's hard to argue against his suggestion of a break. He wins you over after clarifying you have a few hours to revise and get ready before people start arriving, and the guys will take care of everything. 

It's half past six when the first group of guests barge through the door. Who the fuck goes to a party this early?

Before you know it, the inside of your bedroom feels like the bathroom of a nightclub, barely keeping out all the noise of voices and loud music. And instead of having fun, you're hunched over your laptop crying because you can't make sense of this one exercise you're sure you know how to solve because you've done it a million times before. 

"Why aren't you dressed yet?"

Wiping your tears before he could see them, Bam offers you the unopened beer in his hand. "Sorry, lost track of time, I'll get in the shower right now." 

"Alright, see you downstairs." 

He leaves and you hope the hot water will break you out of the stress.

Getting dressed, you noticed Bam left the beer next to your laptop, so you chug it. It's still cold, refreshing against the condensation wafting through your room. The papers on top of the closed notebook beg you to be picked up, but your eyes are trained on the mirror. Deep breath in. Nothing to worry about.

Your own shoes feel weird, you're not sure whether your makeup is too much or not enough and the people leaning on the rail of the stairs are unrecognizable. To be fair, it's not like you were having that much fun in your room either.

Trying to relax, some familiar faces keep you company in the kitchen, pulling you into their game of truth or dare. Dico is the happy evil trickster to hand you a mix of pineapple schnapps with redbull and half a bottle of sriracha. Claiming you're gonna be sick is your escape route.

Quickly disappearing into the crowd, the small amount of alcohol hasn't freed you from worrying, checking every surface for stains and every fragile piece of memorabilia for cracks. A knot forms in your chest every time you try to forget about your exams, that second long flash of cue cards prompting a wince similar to a wounded animal.

Bam would know what to do. 

The backyard is about the last place to look for him. Stepping into the chilly night, the wind makes your dress cling to your body. Raab and Dunn spot you first, lifting their cups to you and smiling big, a gesture you reciprocate and begin striding towards them. 

Feeling lighter doesn't last long, because on the other side of the pool, your boyfriend is sitting on one of the stretchers with his ex-girlfriend glued to his ear.

It could be innocent. If it wasn't her, or the hand on his leg, or how casual it looked. Any hope of a carefree night is ripped away from your grasp, and rolling your eyes, you finish the walk to your friends just to steal whatever they were drinking and downing it.

"Oh, that's not good."

Ignoring Raab's obvious statement and returning inside, you should have predicted having to take on the role of bitter host. Your infallible idea is to turn off the power and climb on top of a couch to announce the party is over because your parents forgot to pay the electricity bill, and anyone who remained would have to chime in with their own money. Oh, and the beer would get warm out of the fridge, of course. 

Your performance as the empathetic life of the party who is sorely disappointed that the night is ending is not at all convincing. 

Finding Dico in the dark, you kiss him on the cheek. "You got this, right?"

A thumbs up is shoved in your face, laughing at the spark in his eyes when given a task. "Sure thing, M'lady!"

The boy enthusiastically shoos the crowd outside, promising to arrange a second location, while you climb up the stairs without so much as glancing to see if anybody's following you. 

Back in your room, it feels relieving to pull your hair up and clean your face, the first instance of self-care all day.

Bam finds you sitting cross-legged in front of the mirror, spreading moisturizer over your skin. 

"What happened?" He sounds less drunk than you would have expected. Carelessly explaining you didn’t feel good is not sufficient. "You didn't even tell me anything."

"You seemed busy." Shrugging, the real words choke on your throat. Still, you don't look at him, focused on untying your shoes. "I'm gonna jump in bed, but you can follow the guys if you want to. Just call me tomorrow."

"No, c'mon, what's wrong?" He pushes your hair onto your back, but you brush the movement off, annoyed. "Everyone left, I'm not going anywhere."

"I'm sure your ex is waiting in the bushes outside, you can still catch up." He scoffs and you sigh. "I need to sleep, that's all I want to do. We'll talk tomorrow, alright?"

Even irritated, you take his offered hand to stand up. Before you can fully turn your back to him and walk into the bathroom, you're being pushed against the closet doors. 

"Don't tell me you shut down a party over jealousy. Did you?"

"Are you seriously trying to be sexy right now? While I'm mad? How many concussions have you had, dude." 

Bam's hands put more pressure on your hips and his face inches closer to yours. This is not the time to let hormones overtake you. 

"Well, you could have pushed her hand away, you didn't. You could have gotten up, you didn't. You could have not invited her, you did. So, yes, fuck you for that."

"If you looked for more than thirty seconds, which you clearly didn't, you would know I did. The only part I didn't do was invite her, I'm not that dumb. She just showed up with some other friends." 

Having the roles reversed and being in the wrong is the hardest part for you. How was Bam more level-headed than you right now? 

"Well, get a restraining order next time, I don't know." God, you are losing it. Every thought feels scrambled and way too hard to conclude, so you're saying whatever comes to mind. 

Tired, you shake your head and try to move out of his grasp, but Bam's lips catch yours delicately. 

His hands are bunching up the skirt of your dress discreetly when he speaks. "I think what you need is to take it easy." 

"I doubt you can help me with that. In case you haven't caught up, you have been stressing me out all day."

There's a more serious look in his face now, apologetic. You almost feel bad. "Let me make up for it, then. Please."

"Bam, really, I don't-" His mouth crashes into yours again, harsher now. Tongue desperate to meet yours, he succeeds in turning your legs wobbly. Some could call that “taking it easy”..

Breaking off but noses grazing, you can feel his shaky breaths before ring-clad fingers start running up your leg under your clothes.

“Tell me to stop.” It’s a challenge. He knows you won’t. Especially when his hands are forcefully gripping the extra bit of skin on the inside of your thighs. 

The painful pressure takes your mind off of your troubles. Maybe your boyfriend knows how to help after all. You won’t give him the satisfaction, however. 

“Is this your apology?” Digging manicured nails into his shoulders is your way to warn him you’re putting up a fight. A little one. 

“Are you gonna tell me it isn’t working?” His palms slide dangerously close to your underwear and his nose is breathing heat into your neck. It’s heaven and hell. 

“You can’t win a fight with sex.” He could. You’d let that happen. 

“That’s not-“ Bam lets out a frustrated groan, biting your ear in the process. “I’m just trying to make my girlfriend feel better.” 

There’s no petty comeback, you know he means it. For a second, your heart skips a couple beats. 

It’s incredible how after all this time, his teenager antics still get you hot and bothered. 

Gentler, buttery cold lips soak the skin of your chest, nibbling around the straps of the black dress. 

“You know I love you, don’t you?”

That simple. You melt into him, weeping on the inside over how good it feels to give in. 

Big, surprisingly soft, hands lift up your dress to reveal your underwear. Bam rubs you over the thick fabric, sincere smile teasing his lips as soon as your legs adjust to his touch.

“See? Why make things so hard on yourself?”

Careful fingers pull your clothes all the way up, leaving you in nothing but your panties. 

Before you can feel cold, your boyfriend closes the distance between your bodies. Holding your hair in his hand, kisses trail up your neck as he whispers. 

“So beautiful, so smart, so dedicated.” He guides you towards the spacious bed. “You think no one sees it. I do.” 

Layed on your back, Bam’s words are hypnotic, taming the fire inside but not putting it out just yet. 

Getting on his knees, he makes a point to toss his snapback far away, allowing the dark locks to bounce freely. He knows you so well. 

“Just…” Tongue sucking on your hip bone after attacking it with his teeth. Voice shuddering through you. “Relax.”

For someone aiming to project calmness, Bam’s hunger to get to your cunt is dizzying, wasting no time with removing any piece of cloth. Just pushing it to the side while tongue-fucking you. 

He actually pulls it down to allow his fingers access, the noise of metal clinking on the floor when he takes off his rings. 

“Hey, babe.” Curls jiggle when his head shoots up, tip of the tongue still stuck on you. “It’s working.”

That sharp smile, wicked, matches yours. 

Passion is what comes through when his mouth returns to its full job, absurd noises filling your once innocent childhood bedroom.

It’s a source of pride, how good he is at eating pussy, since you were the one giving him instructions for the first year of your relationship. Of course he doesn’t appreciate being told what to do and wanted to get it right so he could start adventuring on his own. The rewards are extremely gratifying. 

Bam’s fingers curl, hitting the most important spot. That along with the commitment to sucking on your clit is driving you crazy. You try to moan, but your mouth is so dry and the muscles in your abdomen are tightening too hard for anything to come out.

That’s when he stops.

“I thought you were supposed to be helping me.”

His tongue pops out to lick the juices covering the surroundings of his lips. Fuck, he looks so pretty.

“That’s the plan.”

Standing up to unbuckle his pants, you volunteer to rip his shirt off, stealing a kiss on the way. 

All the stressed energy consuming you is transferring to your hands scratching his back and pulling his hair until he grunts. He makes fun of you.

“Let it all out, tiger. I am your vessel.”

It dawns on you, this is your boyfriend giving himself to you, to your frustration. To be used and abused as you wished.

In the flurry of thoughts, you bite his lip, but he seems to enjoy it. 

Needy, you squeeze his ass to lock his crotch with yours, begging silently for more. 

“Relax.”

Bam kisses you slower, tricking you into a false sense of tranquility before slipping his hard dick in you. This time, you moan, loud. 

“Fuck, Bammy, I-” His hand covers your mouth, as to say, not right now. 

Tongue sticking out between gritted teeth, your boyfriend slides further just to test his range before slowly pulling out again, swollen head teasing your entrance. You can see the slick juices leaking down to your sheets.

“I’m gonna fuck you until you see double tonight, baby.” 

When he slides back in, another leisurely stroke, it’s beyond your control. Biting on the fingers still closed around your lips does nothing but encourage a faster rhythm. 

Bam angles your legs farther, pressing under your thighs to position them flush to his hips. Wide open. 

At this point, he’s giving it to you so hard your body is nearly hanging upside down off the end of your bed, the bedframe hitting against the chipped baby blue wall. 

Your whimpers are embarrassingly high pitched, his sweat mixing with yours where your chests are bumping. 

Looking up, the vision is magnificent. Bam’s jaw is hung, mouth open for a moan that won’t come out. His hair is all over the place. The tattoos across his body change shape under the erratic movements. 

Moving his hips, he breaches your limit, stroking an area so sensitive you can feel the veins in his cock pulsing. 

Everything feels small and too big at the same time, unbearable heat pressing down on your body, buzzing in your ears. For all you know, the walls in the room could be shrinking. 

Your eyes catch the heartagram pounding against your trimmed hairs before rolling to the back of your head, overwhelmed. 

Crumbling on top of you, the rings still on Bam’s left hand dent the skin barely protecting your bones when he hugs your hips. Bracelets pinching your leg hair. 

His incomprehensible moan echoes through the walls like he had waited years for such a satisfying release. Muffled by the hand still obstructing your mouth, basking in the sound of Bam cumming so unashamed is enough to untie the knot in your stomach and ignite your own climax, arching your back and forcing your stomach onto his, which is still moving in and out as he pants.

You can feel his jaw is still dislocated, chin punching into your shoulder as the two of you attempt to catch your breath. Wet curls stick to his forehead, and you smile in bliss.