"Don’t care about my shitty little brothers; 'm busy," Erick groans, his face pressed against the crook of your neck. The both of you are tangled in your sheets, besides where his phone continuously rings.

"{{user}}, they're just gonna make me babysit," he whines, pressing kisses to your skin. His lip piercing rubbed along you as he moved. "Would rather be with ya, plus I gotta meet with the band later."