#pro rev

He would hover over you whenever he got the chance, crowding your space and acting like your attention was something he deserved.

Tens of thousands of fans screamed his name every night, camping outside of venues just to catch a glimpse of him slipping backstage. They clawed over one another for a look, a sign, anything that might convince them they were special, that they stood a tiny chance of being different from the rest.

It was pathetic, the constant fixation, the endless adoration; it was no wonder Frank had the most obnoxious, repulsive personality to match. Your band had been trapped in his orbit for years now, booked on the same festivals, locked into the same tours, and repeatedly forced to open for his band. The fact that anyone thought to group your bands together was unfathomable, the comparisons often diminishing your band entirely. 

It didn’t help that you saw him everywhere you looked, strutting down red carpets at awards shows, laughing like a spoiled brat in every “band in town” interview, posing ridiculously for Kerrang magazine shoots; It truly never ended.

Frank’s signature smirk would greet you each time, smug and untouchable as you scowled back at him. Nonsensical tattoos sprawled across almost every inch of his skin, and he made a point of randomly showing you the newest ones whenever your paths crossed. Worst of all were his eyes: bright, piercing, boring into your soul with every glance.

He was infuriating, revolting in his arrogance and charm, a walking storm that demanded attention, yet no amount of hatred in your chest could erase how absurdly, maddeningly attractive he was. Somehow, that made it even worse.

It was night three of five somewhere in the Southwest, the sweltering summer heat clinging to your skin and eating the festival grounds alive. Sweat ran down your temples as your band scraped through the final notes of the encore. You were exhausted, every muscle screaming from months of non-stop touring, and it showed. The crowd didn’t care, cheering anyways, louder because you were the act right before his band. 

The lights and heat made your head spin as you staggered into the wings completely spent. The crew members were scattered, tied up in the chaos of a malfunctioning sound system to give a damn about you and your heatstroke. Your ears were ringing, body trembling as you pushed your way backstage towards your trailer. Outside, a full moon shone brightly, the cold light stark against the lingering heat of the night. You followed its glow to your trailer, crew members scattered around the bus when you approached.

“Wetbay’s flooded, miss. We’ll need to call a maintenance company to fix it. Bus is out of commission for now.”

Your manager was livid. Someone had left the sink running before your set, and everything from your gear to your bags, even your shoes were soaked through. “Great. Looks like the entire team will have to find somewhere else to crash until the bus is fixed. Every hotel within fifty miles is booked until at least the end of the week.” 

The crew shuffled around nervously, murmuring apologies to you and your bandmates, but you didn’t have the energy to care. Every muscle ached, your mind fogging up with fatigue as you stumbled to the nearest trailer. You yanked the door open, collapsing onto the nearest bunk and letting the world fade around you without much of a second thought. 

Oh well. Whoever slept here probably wouldn’t mind. 

You were woken by the sound of shuffling, low laughter drifting through the space as the trailer lights flickered on behind the curtain. For a moment, your mind struggled to catch up, groggy and disoriented from your heat-induced haze. You tried to place where you were, whose bus this might be, but before you could fully make sense of it, the curtain was yanked open. A shadow fills the entrance, smug and unmistakable as your pulse jumps. 

There’s no way… 

Frank is drenched in sweat from head to toe, hair sticking to his forehead as he begins to pull off one of his “homemade” muscle tanks. He stops immediately as the realization hits. 

“Oh shit… ”

You glare up at him, voice sharp. “Go away.”

“Should I even ask what you’re doing here?”Frank smirks, kicking his shoes off under the bunk.

“No.” You roll onto your side, eyes pointed anywhere but him.

“Fine with me. Guess we’ll have to share then, sweetheart.”

“No. And don’t call me that, you animal.”

“You love it,” he chuckles. “Besides, our bus is full. Are you gonna let me in, or am I gonna have to crash on the couch?”

“Crash on the couch,” you mutter, trying to sound firm but failing to hide the shakiness in your voice.

“Someone’s more irritated than usual…” Frank mumbles under his breath. “Must be the heat. Now make room.” 

You grumble, sliding over as Frank slips beside you. He’s warm, heat radiating from his body as his shoulder brushes yours. You stiffen, glaring daggers into him, but your pulse has a mind of its own. He smirks, shifting slightly to get comfortable. 

“You’re impossible,” you mutter, voice tight.

“And yet, here I am,” he whispers, close enough that the words tickle your ear.

Eventually, the tension gives way to exhaustion, both of you drifting off to the steady hum of the portable fan he keeps on in his bunk. The small space presses around you, the side of his body practically pressed into yours as the scent of sweat lingers in the air. 

You wake up turned away from Frank, dragged from the edge of a dream by movement besides you. Soft, almost hesitant pants echo through the dark trailer, mingling with the snores drifting in from just outside of the curtain. 

You turn around slowly. 

Frank’s eyes are closed, drool seeping out of the corner his mouth onto the pillow. From what you can see in the darkness, his face is flushed, breathing coming in heavy and uneven as he presses into you. He looks almost sickly, most likely a result of the heat and exhaustion catching up to him. The stench hits you before anything else: sweat and grime mixed with a sour, unrecognizable tang that makes your stomach twist. 

“You look like shit,” you mutter, voice escaping a little harsher than you intended. 

His eyes flutter open, half-lidded, confusion flickering before he lets out a weak groan. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Frank doesn’t respond, burying his face into the pillow. 

“Are you sick?” 

He shakes his head. 

You reach down, pressing your palm to his forehead. “Shit, you’re burning up. You’re sick… Let me get you some medicine. I think I have some in my bag…”

Before you can slip past him, a strong arm shoots out, grabbing you and pulling you flush against his chest.

“What the hell?” you hiss, blinking up at him, your words lost somewhere between shock and the heat radiating off him.

“Don’t go… please.” He whimpers into your neck, his spit tracking against your skin.

“What are you doing?” you snap, a mix of irritation and disbelief lacing your voice.

“… Need help,” he whimpers, pressing closer, ragged breath warm against your skin.

“Help? Huh?”

Before you can react, Frank grabs your hand roughly, forcing it between his thighs. The movement is sudden, shocking, leaving no room for hesitation as you gasp in disgust. 

“What the fuck?” you hiss, trying to jerk your hand back to no avail. Frank holds your hand there, pressing your palm up against the bulge in his jeans. Your pulse spikes, heat surging through you in a mix of anger and mortification

“Let go. Now.” 

Frank is panting openly, grip tightening on your hand just enough to keep you from moving away. 

“P-please…” he whines, voice desperate and strained, rutting his hips into your hand as you struggle against him. 

You freeze in his hold, chest pounding, caught between disgust and morbid curiosity. “What the hell is wrong with you?” you snap, yanking back harder unsuccessfully.

Frank’s whines deepen into low, urgent growls as his hips press harder into your hand. You grit your teeth, finally twisting your hand free as you groan in disgust. Your mind is reeling with a messy mix of irritation, disbelief, and something you’re not ready to name. 

“Fuck this, I’m leaving.”

You shove against him, trying to untangle yourself, but his arms snap around you in an iron grip, far stronger than what you were expecting. “Hey!” you hiss, writhing against his chest, heart hammering in your ears. Frank doesn’t budge; if anything, his grip tightens, nails digging painfully into your sides. The heat radiating off him makes it impossible to think, every breath shared, every movement magnified as you stare at him in disbelief.

“Is this a joke?” 

He shakes his head, tongue lolling uselessly out of his mouth as a bead of sweat rolls off of his chin.

You almost laugh, almost shove Frank away, spit something cruel in his face before walking out, but the look in his eyes stops you cold. There’s no smugness. No mischief there. Not even a signature smirk. Just hunger.

Pure, unadulterated hunger, stripped bare and frighteningly sincere.

You swallow abruptly.

“Fine,” you mutter. “But you’re going to owe me. Big time. And if I get sick because of this, you’re gonna owe me double.”

“Please… please… shut up and fuckin’ touch me… please.”

You roll your eyes, pissed that he’d have the audacity to beg, but something inside of you softens. You shift slightly, rolling your hips as best as you can, his bulge slotting right up against the seam of your jeans.

Your bodies are pressed together in the cramped space, impossibly close as you grind down on him. You can feel slickness building between you, Frank’s soft whines echoing through the bunk as he presses clumsy, open-mouthed kisses along your neck. 

He begins rolling his hips into yours, the heat making your head spin as he grinds his hardness against you. The friction is electrifying, the rough denim of your jeans rubbing perfectly against your clit. A little gasp escapes you, hands planting on Frank’s chest to brace yourself.

Frank is blissed out, eyes squeezed shut as sweat drips off of him onto the sheets. Somehow, it intensifies the smell of him tenfold, the air thickening until the scent clings to everything around you. He’s bucking his hips up into yours now, grunting loudly as the pleasure becomes too much to contain.

You wrinkle your nose, breaths shallow, feeling a little dizzy with how intense the smell is hitting you. Your thoughts scatter, trapped somewhere between the friction between you two and the sheer absurdity of the situation.

Maybe this is all a dream, something fueled by the summer heat, the closeness, by the way air itself seems too heavy to breathe. It’s strange, intense, too disconnected from any form of logic. And yet, your body doesn’t cares about reason, not with how perfectly he’s moving against you, begging you, choking on his own spit. 

“Open your mouth for me,” you whisper, words barely louder than a breath. 

As smooth as you can, you slide out of your shirt, balling it up and slipping it into his mouth. 

“Stay quiet for me. You don’t want the others to hear, right?” You grin. “Or maybe you do, pervert.” 

Frank whimpers at your words, jaw tightening as he swallows hard behind the fabric and does his his best to follow your lead. You shift downwards, hands fiddling with his belt buckle until the clasp unlocks, helping him shift out of his jeans just enough you can slip his boxers down and… 

Jesus.

He’s massive, cock springing out against his stomach with a wet slap. It’s thick, so fucking thick, tip spurting bouts of pre cum all over his sweat-slicked skin. It almost looks swollen, veins jutting up and down the sides, an untamed mess of dark hairs at the base…

You try to wrap your hand around it, giving him a few messy pumps as Frank sighs in relief. He thrusts lightly into your palm, wetness coating your fingertips as you build a steady rhythm, thumb swiping over his tip with every pass. Desperation rolls off of him in heavy waves, the air thick with tension as his body pleads for more.

Still pumping him, you peel yourself out of the rest of your clothes, shoving them to the other side of the bunk as Frank grows more and more impatient. He whines as you press down onto his chest, fisting at his shirt as you wrangle it off of his head. As expected, his torso is covered in tattoos, dark hair curling and spreading across every inch of him. Frank’s fingers scratch at you, a little too eager for his own good, as he pulls the gag from his mouth. 

“Easy now,” you tease, lining yourself over him, tip catching your entrance. 

“Fuckin’ need this…” he pants, hips jerking upwards to spread his pre all over your folds. “Need you…”

“Ask nicely.” 

“Goddamnit—“  

Without warning, Frank shoves you off of him, flipping you onto your side as he shuffles in place behind you. You’ve had him wound-up, frustrated, begging for you this entire night, and he’s fucking pissed. He guides his cock towards your entrance, lining himself up and forcing his way inside.

It hurts, the stretch more painful than pleasant, but you don’t have another second to adjust as he starts slamming into you, sloppy and uncoordinated.

“S-slow down, asshole.” You hiss, teeth gritting together as his fingers latch onto your hips, nails digging into your skin. Frank sets a brutal pace, each thrust knocking the wind out of you as pain swallows you whole. It’s aggressive, detached, and you can feel the irritation building in your veins.

You’re being used, completely at his mercy as his hips snap against yours so hard you know they’ll bruise. Frank is snarling into your hair, drool dripping down your neck as he loses himself inside of your tight warmth. 

You can’t take it anymore, beyond frustrated and annoyed, elbowing him so hard in the chest you hear the air get knocked out of his lungs.

“I said slow down!” you growl as he whines, stilling inside of you. He obeys, easing the pace just enough you can finally take steady breaths.

“Good boy.” 

Frank leans his head down again, pressing open-mouthed kisses against the back of your neck, leaving little bites anywhere he can reach. His hands wander your body, one hand settling on your chest while the other snakes down between you. He parts your folds with a surprising grace, fingers rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts. The rough callouses on his fingertips only add to the sensations as you pant.

The sounds of wetness fill the air, the fan doing little to muffle the obscene slaps and squelches echoing around you. You arch your back to take Frank in deeper, feeling him tense up as he begins fucking you harder. You bite down on your lips in an attempt to silence yourself, needy moans slipping as his nails dig into your hips so hard you can feel the skin breaking. 

Frank is slamming his entire body into you, using the leverage to pull your body back onto his with every forward thrust. He presses his nose along your neck, nipping at the oversensitive flesh, almost like he’s trying to mark you. It’s strange, animalistic, but you don’t seem to care, not with how good he’s making you feel. He goes lower, pressing his teeth against your neck, razor sharp, in an attempt to hold you in place.

“M-more…” You moan, completely drained, but the sensations are too intoxicating to resist. Your whimpers and cries only encourage Frank as he continues to drive into you relentlessly. You don’t know whether it’s the heat between you or something else that’s driving you crazy, pushing you into a trancelike state as you instinctively clench around him. 

He whines, hand frantic on your clit, his heavy panting music to your ears as your eyes roll to the back of your head. The pressure peaks, wrapping around every one of your nerves so tight it pushes you over the edge. Your body trembles as you ride it out, loud moans escaping your lips as you clench onto him. The feeling is better than anything you’ve ever felt, completely overwhelming your senses as you writhe in his arms.

Is it because of the heat?

Or because of him?

You don’t have time to think about it, Frank pounding you through it with ragged breaths. The thought of you, swollen and round, carrying his pups is too much to bear. You would make such an amazing mother, an amazing mate, always keeping him in line, always taking care of him even when he doesn’t deserve it.

The thoughts spiral, obsessive and consuming as he imagines the perfect life you would share together. Frank grabs your chest, pulling you as close as possible as his cock catches inside of you, his knot locking into place as he spills into you. You scratch at him weakly, struggling to escape his grasp, but he doesn’t relent, focused on nothing but filling you to the brim.

Your cries for him to get off fall on deaf ears, Frank absolutely spent, tongue lolling out of the side of his mouth as his cum pools inside of you, hot and sticky. You grimace at the feeling, body slumping against his as you shift awkwardly to get comfortable. When Frank finally comes to, he brushes the hair from your face, looking into your eyes almost lovingly as he admires your sleepy form.

He sighs dreamily, pressing a sweet kiss to your forehead as he wishes more than anything for his thoughts to become a reality. You slump against him, eyes fluttering shut as you drift off to sleep.

Frank would allow it. Your first knotting and you had taken it so well! His heart swells, pride and admiration warming his chest as he curls your body against his, still buried deep inside of you. It would be a while before his knot went down, and you had definitely earned your rest. 

After all, you were going to need it. The night was still young.

Hours later, you wake to a steady pounding in your head and the feeling of achingly stiff muscles. Frank is snoring beside you, clutching you loosely into his chest as he mumbles into your hair. You untangle yourself from his grasp and slip out of the bunk, every inch of your body protesting as you make your way to the bathroom. 

You don’t remember much from the previous night, only hazy fragments that slip away the harder you try to hold onto them. The boys are sipping coffee, Ray and Gerard sitting on the couch as you shuffle by. They steal glances, Gerard looking you up mischievously.

“Rough night?” Gerard asks, a coy smile tugging at his lips. 

Your neck is covered in bites, blues and purples blooming across your skin, your eyes bloodshot and heavy, hair wild and untamed.

“Mmhm,” you croak, voice completely gone. “It was too hot.”

“Yeah,” Ray says dryly. “Bet it was especially hot in Frank’s bunk.”

You move to the counter, pouring yourself the last of the coffee when a pair of arms wrap around you, making you stiffen. Frank is there, miraculously not looking as terrible as you do in the moment. He grabs the mug from your hands, sipping the coffee and flashing you that familiar, idiotic grin.

“She helped me out last night,” he says casually, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, pressing a kiss to a bruise on the back of your neck. “Thanks, baby,” he whistles, strolling off with the mug like nothing happened.

You groan, face twisting in disgust.

“We heard,” Gerard snickers. 

“Everything,” Ray adds humorlessly.